#i was cleaning out all the songs I realized didn’t fit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

2baabbies · 4 months

Text

🖤 Obsessed (Hyunjin x Reader) 🖤

Pairings: established relationship hyunjin x reader

Words: 3800

Summary: Hyunjin’s jealous streak ends with you finding him in a compromising position. AKA: in your bed, masturbating while wearing your shirt.

(somewhat inspired by Olivia Rodrigo’s song by the same name; quote at the beginning also from this song)

Fluff + Smut + Humour

afab + fem!reader

CWs: jealousy (but make it cute and silly), reader is trying to make hyunjin jealous but only because it makes them both horny (and he’s a drama queen), he’s only a bit insecure, the point of contention is a big shirt but reader’s weight is not described (aka this fic is not limited to any one body size), reader and hyunjin have exes, reader lets hyunjin make assumptions that she teases him about later

Smut Tags: lots of teasing!!, (subtle) subby!hyune x dom!reader, intercourse (peanits in vagina), safe sex/use of condom, a bit of rough sex/uncomfortable position, reader has a kink for hyunjin’s desperation, begging, hair pulling, overstim, slight dumbification of reader, slightly pervy!hyune (smelling your clothes), hyunjin masturbates in your shirt (described in detail), little bit of voyeurism, bit of cum eating

!!ATTENTION!!

Reposting this fic to other platforms, including as a translation, is expressly prohibited. Do not copy, alter, or claim this fic as your own. Absolutely no permission is given to anyone to post my works, even with credit, and this fic should only appear on Ao3 or Tumblr under my accounts. Reposting is not only plagiarism, but a direct violation of my wishes as the original writer and owner. Please respect writers and don’t steal!

Likes, reblogs, asks and comments are very welcome and appreciated <3

~~~

‘And I know you love me, and I know it's crazy

But every time you call my name, I think you mistake me for her

You both have moved on, you don't even talk

But I can't help it, I got issues, I can't help it, baby’

It takes Hyunjin’s brain a second to register that something is wrong, and a second after that to actually take a look at himself and attempt to decipher what feels so off. He is still buffering when you return to your bedroom. You giggle at his bedhead and the cute expression on his face as he grabs the hem of his shirt and holds it up. He thought he had grabbed his white tshirt off the floor, and in his morning daze he had actually grabbed one of yours that you were too lazy to throw in the morning laundry. The graphic tee is far too big on him, even hanging off his shoulder, but you get a good look at the boxers he pulled on seconds before thanks to his hands lifting it up above his stomach. He drops the material and it falls down over his lap, unfortunately covering his soft tummy and pale thighs. He looks up then blinks away his sleep as you enter with a basket of clean laundry. You hold up his shirt and you giggle again at his sleepy smile.

“Looking for this?”

He nods and watches you drop the basket on the bed. You pull each freshly washed garment out for him and he shuffles over to loop his arms around your waist from behind.

“You let me sleep in…”

“You wouldn’t get up, sleeping beauty.”

He huffs and pecks the nape of your neck.

“You didn’t try hard enough…”

“Mhm, sure. You look cute in that.”

You admire him over your shoulder as he leans back and plucks the baggy fabric between his fingers.

“It doesn’t fit me…”

“I think that’s where the cuteness comes in.”

“I’m always cute…”

“That… I don’t disagree with that.”

He chuckles and turns you around so he can properly embrace you. You smile at him and nudge your noses together with a fond smile. He hums and nuzzles back gently, drawing your body tight to his with a content sigh.

“It’s so cozy… How come I hardly see you wearing it?”

You fail to realize at first that he is back to talking about the shirt, and take a moment of silence to contemplate his question.

“I wear it all the time. I think it’s just always dirty, I try to put something cleaner on when I know you’re coming over.”

You both laugh at your honesty.

“It’s really soft.”

“Well, I’d offer to buy you one but I don’t know where it came from.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone left it over a while ago…”

You do not regret the words when they leave your mouth, but you can do little to fight your smirk as Hyunjin’s lips draw into a tight line. He then purses his lips and puffs his cheeks in a dramatic pout.

“Who?”

“Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. Tell me who.”

You roll your eyes. Hyunjin was privy to the history of all your exes, situationships, and sexual escapades. You knew about his too. It had been relieving to be able to talk so candidly about your experiences with him, and it definitely allowed the two of you to become close early on in your relationship. There was something therapeutic about snuggling with your lover and bitching about the ones that let you down.

It did not, however, curb Hyunjin’s jealousy in the slightest. He knew their names, how long you were together, if you still talked, he even knew where some of them lived and worked. It would be alarming if you had not both offered all that information to each other willingly. And you knew, ultimately, Hyunjin would never restrict you from having a friendship with any of the exes you still talked to. Although you would never admit it, you treated his jealousy as a testament of his love. He only cared so much because he cared about you. Besides, it was a natural emotion, and the fact that he was willing to be so emotionally available did more for you than anything your exes ever did.

“We don’t even talk anymore, Hyune. I don’t think she’s even in this country.”

“She. She. Oh god, I know who it is.”

“No, you don’t-”

He falls out of your arms and to the bed with a heavy thud, wailing incoherently as you observe his theatrics.

“She’s the worst!”

“Well, that’s why we’re not friends anymore…”

He suddenly thrashes and tears the shirt off with an animalistic grunt. You cock your eyebrow up and watch him roll around in vain when it gets stuck on his chin. He manages to pull it off and whips it at the floor, breathless after his performance.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“I can’t believe you let me wear her shirt.”

You scoff.

“Firstly, you’re the one that put it on. Secondly, it’s my shirt. She left it. Finders keepers.”

“I feel dirty.”

“You’re fine. And overreacting.”

You kneel on the edge of the bed and crawl up so you are sitting in his lap. He huffs and looks at you with a miserable expression.

“Why did you keep her shirt?”

“Because it’s a nice shirt, and I like it.”

“Get rid of it.”

“I will not. But, I’ll wear it less if that makes you feel better.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

You giggle.

“You’re being silly, Hyune.”

He looks away pointedly and you guide him back to face you by gripping his jaw. He swallows thickly as you, slowly, lean in to hover your face over his. You feel his shuddery breath on your lips, and bite down seductively to muffle the satisfied hum you release when you feel him hardening beneath you. He glares and scrunches his face with faux distaste as you dance your fingers up his stomach, then graze your thumb over one of his nipples. He shivers and finally lets the act drop, his annoyance melting into arousal as you peck shyly at his lips.

“Hyune,” You purr, “It’s okay if you’re jealous.”

“I-I know…”

You reward his cooperation with a teasing lick into his mouth, and carefully circle his nipple with light pressure. He whines and bucks up against you.

“You know how special you are to me. I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too,” He whimpers.

You respond with a sultry chuckle and begin stripping off your clothes.

There was a part of you that adored Hyunjin’s jealousy. It made him whiny, and needier for your affection. You would deny it vehemently if he ever called you out on it, but his desperation for your validation could have you dripping in seconds. So, it was a bit of a game between you. For the majority of the following week, Hyunjin would pretend he was unbothered when he saw you wearing that shirt. In turn, you would pretend that you were accidentally choosing it over all your other pajama options. While it may have been a bit unfair- or even mean- on your part to watch him squirm and stifle his complaints each time you pulled it on, it did not weigh on your conscience. You love each other; you trust he will let you know when his limit has been met.

And he does.

“Take it off.”

“Ha-ah,” Your eyes roll as you mumble back, “Hn?”

Your mind is fuzzy. Hyunjin has your ankles hooked over his shoulders and his cock pressed deep inside you. Your arms are limp above your head, fists clenching in the pillow supporting you. You tilt your head back with a moan as his hips rock against the back of your thighs in a steady rhythm.

“Baby, take it off, please.”

His fingers are curled in the hem of the white shirt, lifting it up as he ruts himself into your warmth. You huff out a laugh and tilt your head back to face him. You moan as you take in his heady groans and pleading eyes. His plump lips are parted to exhale a whine and his cheeks are impossibly flushed. You clench when he makes another pathetic noise and shoves his face into your neck. You smirk as your shirt gets rucked up to your breasts.

“I-I’m cold, Hyune.”

“Please. Please, please, please.”

He draws back and now you whine as his movements falter.

“Hyunjin?”

He raises his head and pouts, eyes teary as he looks at you. You shudder, feeling your heat gush at the sight. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm, and your mind is scrambled with the intent to chase that high. You roll your hips and he gives a shaky thrust in return.

“Don’t make me beg, darling. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Mhm! M’okay, take it- take it off, Hyune.”

His touch is deft as you lift your arms and he slips the shirt over your head. He throws it behind him, then draws a gasp from you when he repositions himself above you. Your mouth is agape in pleasure when he starts thrusting again, legs folded to your chest as he plows you into the mattress. You are thankful for the pillow, otherwise your head would be banging against the headboard. His tip almost kisses your cervix and you let out a breathless wail as humps into you, following each precise thrust with steadily rising groans. You reach up to thread your fingers in his hair and bring him in for a kiss. Your toes curl as his body melts into yours, and you finally reach your climax. You share more consuming kisses as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Hyunjin is soon following you, getting sloppier in his movements as his pleasure increases. He leans away, just enough to let you catch your breath. Your legs are trembling from the strain, and now from the overstimulation of his cock filling your fluttering cunt. He shakes his head when stray hairs stick to his skin and fall into his eyes, and you lovingly tuck each one out of the way.

“Hyune…”

“G-Good?”

“Mhm,” You nod and quiver, “M’good. Can’t think.”

He laughs and leans down to peck your lips. For a moment it looks like he has a quip lined up, but he just snuggles his head into your chest and lets out a ruined moan. You giggle as his thrusts stutter, then he lazily rolls his hips into you with a relieved hum. You let him ride out his release, kissing the crown of his head and playing with his hair as he lets out little moans and sighs of pleasure. When he finally stills, you reach between your bodies and gently push on his chest.

“Ah-ahn…”

“Hyune, you’re squishing me.”

“Hah, sorry.”

He groggily rises and lets your legs fall out of their tense position. You help him slip off the condom and discard it in the trash bin beside your bed. Your legs are numb, and you are a little shuddery all over from the lingering overstimulation. Hyunjin helps you get comfortable then melts into your waiting arms. You resume kissing and caressing him slowly as he tucks the two of you under the blanket and settles on top of you. He rubs his dumpling cheek over your heart and smiles when you giggle at him.

“I love you,” He murmurs, “You okay?”

You nod.

“I’m good, baby. I love you, too. You always make me feel so good.”

“Mhm, I’m sorry I was rough.”

Hyunjin massages your hips and gently squeezes your thighs. You hum and brush your fingers through his hair, tidying his mussed locks and ridding it of tangles.

“You don’t have to be sorry, babe. I loved it. You were perfect.”

“You’re perfect.”

He leans up to share a sweet kiss, stroking your cheek as your lips meld together. When you part, he pecks your chin then lets his lips trail down your neck. Your eyes flutter and you exhale peacefully as exhaustion overtakes you. Still, you stay awake when he brushes his lips over your ear and whispers to you.

“Thank you, for taking it off.”

“Mhm. Jealous baby.”

He whines at your teasing tone.

“You’re so mean.”

“And you’re ridiculous,” You murmur as you drift off, “But I still love you. You’re my favourite boy. My one and only.”

He nods and pecks your cheek. “I know. You’re my one and only, too, baby.”

The morning arrives peacefully. You wake up before your alarm, and enjoy a few minutes of admiring Hyunjin’s sleeping visage before you slip out of bed to get ready for the day. He is still sleeping after you finish your routine, completely undisturbed as you get dressed and check your phone. You still have some time before you have to go, so you sit beside him on the bed and card your fingers through his hair as you scroll through your phone. He stirs and looks up at you blearily when you run your thumb down the bridge of his nose.

“Mh?”

“Good morning, baby,” You peck his forehead, “I have to go out. I have a couple errands to run. I won’t be long, okay?”

“Mhhm.”

You tuck him in and kiss his temple as he nuzzles his face into a pillow. You giggle and leave with a fond smile.

Hyunjin wakes later, before you return, and pats the empty space beside him until he realizes you are not there. He rolls onto his back to look around and swipes a hand over his face as he fights his disorientation. Eventually, he vaguely remembers you kissing him goodbye earlier when he was somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Unfortunately for him, he has no clue when that was or how much longer it will be until you get home. He lets out a frustrated sigh for no one but himself and eases himself out of bed. He pulls on his boxers, finding them among the pile of other clothes hastily discarded when the two of you fell into bed the night before, and shuffles to the bathroom.

He is a bit more awake when he returns to your bedroom, and pauses as it registers in his vision. White fabric, carelessly casted to the floor, sitting atop your panties and his hoodie. He scoffs at it, so it will know how he disapproves of it gracing his presence, and crosses the room to pick it up off the floor. He had not cared to look at the white tee any more closely once the idea of you wearing someone else’s clothes crossed his mine, but he is drawn to dissecting it now. He does not recognize the print on the front, some band or characters you never mentioned, but he does admire it a bit now. Ultimately, he understands why you kept the shirt on an objective level. It is nice, albeit a little worn, and there is nothing aesthetic-wise that he dislikes about it.

Hesitantly, he toys with it before bringing it to his nose. He gives a tentative sniff as he recalls your words from a week ago. I wear it all the time. I think it’s just always dirty. The shirt definitely did not smell like fresh laundry, or whatever he was expecting it to smell like. It smells like you. He cannot place it, there is a mix of familiar smells invading his senses; the remnants of your body wash, a hint of the candle you light after stressful days, the trace of your hot scent that drives him crazy during your intimate moments. His eyelids flutter and he groans, pressing the fabric to his nose and inhaling deeper. He recalls how comfortable the shirt was to wear before he learned of its origins, and begrudgingly pulls it on before crawling back in bed.

Missing you is torture for him during the rare moments he wakes up alone in your bed, but wearing your shirt settles his loneliness for a bit. That is, until he gets restless again. He could go find his phone, wherever he abandoned it when you two started getting handsy the night before, but he is already so comfortable under the covers. The only thing missing is you. He pulls the collar up over his nose and breathes in, momentarily subdued by the illusion of being enveloped by you. Then he remembers the vision of you from last night, wearing this same shirt and taking him so dutifully in this same bed. He groans and curses himself, reaching down to palm over his growing erection. The shirt, still too big for him, adds an extra obstacle between him and relief as he strokes himself leisurely. He shucks his boxers off under the blanket and reaches under the shirt to grasp his cock firmly. He groans and gives himself a rough squeeze before jerking himself slowly.

One hand holds the shirt up over his nose while the other roams over his length. He wishes it was you. He bucks his hips up at the thought of you touching him and puffs sharply into the shirt. He squirms, the tip of his cock rubs against the inside of the shirt with every stroke and creates a delicious amount of friction. It is so soft, gliding against him without any discomfort and very little resistance. His hips jump again and he has to clutch the base of his cock to stop himself from climaxing too quickly. He discovers that he can taste your scent stronger if he inhales through his mouth, and before too long is panting desperately as he thrusts into his fist. He is too hot now, and kicks off the blanket before resuming the rhythm of sucking in deep breaths while fucking into his own hand.

He is almost there now, possibly on the verge of cumming faster than any other time he has touched himself. He watches his cock strain under the shirt through his eyelashes, and whines when his precum begins wetting a spot in the white fabric. It sticks to him now, turning a bit translucent where his arousal beads through the material. His eyes pinch shut and he controls himself again. He does not want to finish so quickly. This feeling of pleasure is new to him, being smothered in your scent and comfort with the perfect sensation helping him get off. The only thing that might compare is actually getting to fuck you, but this is so different.

He cannot edge himself any longer, the pleasure that has been pooling has become too much. He begins jerking himself faster, ignoring the dry scrape of his unlubed palm on his shaft. He collects some of his precum and uses that to ease his motions. It helps just enough and allows him to reach his climax without further hesitation. He cries out and pants out a series of whimpering moans as his cum shoots out in thick spurts.

You lean in the doorway, watching his release soak through the fabric and further dampen the spot over his cock. You had been watching since he kicked the blanket away. In fact, you knew what he was doing when you entered the apartment and heard his soft moans ringing out in the silence. What you had not expected was walking in on the scene before you- but you were far from disappointed. You let Hyunjin recover a bit before speaking up. He tugs down the collar of the shirt and heaves in a much needed breath.

“I thought you didn’t like that shirt?”

He jumps and throws his palm over his face.

“Fuck.”

You laugh as his other hand slips guiltily out from under the shirt and falls limp on the bed, a bit of his cum sticking between his fingers. You saunter over to the bed, leaning in to run your hand up the inside of his leg as you walk up alongside him. He shivers and peeks at you through his fingers, chest rising and falling quickly in anticipation. Your hand takes his wrist from where it lies on the bed, you hold him firmly as you ease down to straddle his lap. You hold up his messy fingers, almost in admiration, and meet his gaze as you suck them into your mouth. He groans and lets his other hand drop so he can watch you lap each one clean. Your lip twitches as you guide his fingers over your lips, smearing your spit as you lead him to cup your cheek.

“Well?”

“Huh? Oh, the shirt, right,” You giggle and silently urge him to reply, “I-It’s alright. I still don’t like it.”

“Really? You seem to like it, at least a little bit.”

You pry the shirt up from where it has begun to stick to his cock and he hisses. You tilt your head and run your thumb over the patch of soiled fabric thoughtfully.

“O-Only because it smells like you.”

“Oh? Is that it? Are you still jealous?”

Hyunjin sets his jaw and avoids your gaze for a moment as he licks his lips nervously.

“I don’t know…”

“Be honest, Hyune.”

His eyes flick shyly to yours.

“It’s not easy just to… not be jealous. You know that.”

“Mhm…”

You move up his lap, not caring when you settle onto the dirty patch or his oversensitive cock. He watches with a worried frown as you brace your hands on either side of his head and lean over him.

“Wanna know a secret?”

“Yes,” He breathes, looking up at you expectantly.

“You’re jealous over someone who I never had feelings for, and who never got to touch me.”

His eyes widen then narrow.

“But, y-you said your ex left it!”

“Ah-ah- I said ‘someone’ left it behind. You were the one who assumed I was ever into that person.”

He puffs his cheeks and glares softly.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie, I just didn’t correct you. You shouldn’t have assumed you knew who forgot it.”

“You set me up.”

You laugh.

“I set you up? For what? To catch you jerking off in my shirt?”

“Yes!”

Your laughter intensifies and Hyunjin fights his smile. He looks embarrassed, face still flushed, but the twinkle in his eye as you become breathless above him seems to signify his ease with the circumstances. You sigh happily and lean down to reward him with a deep kiss, which he eagerly returns.

“How about we get you clean, hm?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You giggle and tug at the shirt playfully.

“And I’ll get our shirt washed up.”

“Yeah, you let it go too long. It’s way too dirty to wear now.”

You snort.

“Okay, actually, you can wash your own messes.”

He grins.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Hyune.”

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #skz fanfic #skz reader insert #stray kids reader insert

200 notes · View notes

sitp-recs · 1 month

Note

Hi Liv, what are your favourite “they finally kissed” scenes

Thank you

Hi anon! Oh I love this ask, I’m such a sucker for first kiss scenes 🤌🏼 Here are some that live rent free in my head, all these fics are masterclasses in anticipation/payoff. Highly recommend!

Here’s the Pencil, Make it Work by ignatiustrout (M, 49k)

"I think you're so fit, Harry Potter. I meant that about the snow suiting you. You've got really lovely eyes."

"Oh," says Harry, heart kick starting again, pounding hard in his chest.

"Tell me a secret back," says Malfoy, fingers reaching out to, inexplicably, turn Harry's head towards him and touch his scar. Malfoy's fingers are touching him so gently, and he's smiling in his silly lopsided way, and he thinks Harry's fit with lovely eyes. Harry's drunk, and he wants him so much.

"I want you," he whispers.

"Oh," says Malfoy. His eyes flick to Harry's lips, and then back up to his eyes.

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (E, 61k)

Draco’s still laughing when he steps closer. “The first kiss is important,” he says. “It’s how we’ll know if we’re… compatible.” He lifts his hand, slides it along the soft, sensitive skin just under Harry’s jaw, into Harry’s hair. He tugs, gently, pulling Harry’s head back just a fraction.

“It might be awful,” Harry says, trying for solemn, but even he can hear the low gritty sound of need in his own voice. “This might all be a huge mistake.”

Draco’s fingers tighten in Harry’s hair, and he leans in. “It might be awful,” he agrees, and Harry clutches at him then, digs his fingers into the clean tapering lines of his hips. Through Draco’s shirt, he can feel the solid shift of muscle as Draco shivers under his hands.

“It’s not going to be awful,” Harry says, and Draco answers low and desperate, “It’s going to be so fucking good.”

The Compact by astolat (E, 64k)

Draco had his hand gripped tight in Harry’s hair. “Why did you come?” he demanded again. He shut his eyes and shuddered as Harry moved on him, and then dragged his head down and kissed him. He held their foreheads together: they were sweating despite the chill, bodies straining against each other. “Why did you come to me?” he said again, a murmur, going low and almost tender, and Harry groaned against the bare skin of his shoulder and gave up the true answer, the one fighting to come out of him. “You’re my king,” he said, raw, and Draco breathed out one long satisfied sigh, shuddering beneath him.

Little Compton Street by @writcraft (E, 65k)

The strains of music filter into the space around them and Harry tips his head, listening. The smile on his face widens. “I’ve been speaking to the DJ. I wanted them to play a song, that’s why I came looking for you.”

“What song?” Even as he asks the question, Draco already knows the answer.

“Life on Mars.” Harry puts his hand on the wall next to Draco’s head, his gaze dropping to Draco’s lips. “Bowie.”

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Malfoy was desperate for this kiss, Harry realized. He had been desperate for it forever, if those things he had said were true—those things about his cells and his Pensieve and living on just a glance for weeks—and weeks—Harry gave it to him. He wanted to give him everything. He wanted to reach down inside of Malfoy with his tongue and hands and body and take away sad memories of loving and not being loved, replaced them with memories of this kiss. Harry didn’t regret not having loved Malfoy earlier; he only regretted the pain those memories must hold for Malfoy.

#asks #anon #first kiss scenes #long fics

113 notes · View notes

leclsrc · 1 year

Text

a certain romance ✴︎ cs55

genre: fluff!, humor

word count: 4.5k

A love affair is never an easy thing to keep under wraps. Or, the four times your two brothers almost catch you and Carlos together, and the one time they finally do.

notes... reader is a leclerc, one sexual allusion but it’s not bad, french that is basically translatable thru context clues

auds here... req’d, sort of twice! was gonna make this a full fledged fic but i went with the short route to keep it brief. i hope u like this anon/s :) title from a song of the same name by the arctic monkeys. also there is use of y/n which i generally don’t like using in fics bec i feel it disrupts the flow, but it wouldn’t have fit any other way so. must b all... enjoy!

If you told Carlos Sainz that he—a full grown, mature, twenty-eight-year-old man—would be tiptoeing on the balcony of a hotel in Monaco (shirtless and fully terrified, no less) eight months from now, he would laugh at you. But he’d be doing so anyway, fearing something in the room behind him rather than the alarmingly high distance he’d be possessing over the road below. He’d inhale, exhale, recites a few proverbs to keep himself calm. But now, if you told him, he would mumble something along the lines of estúpido, because really, how the hell would he get himself into that situation?

Don’t worry. He’s going to find out.

“I’m not really looking to date,” he says wisely, taking another swig of his beer. “I think racing is the number one thing on my mind. And it’s difficult to maintain a balance of both.”

Lando clears his throat, tipsy from having exhausted his drinks and then some. “Mate, quit being a pessimist. You Spaniards, I swear. That’s not necessarily true. I made it work.” He presents two thumbs, pointing them toward his beaming, dopey face.

Carlos stares. “Luisa broke up with you.”

“Right then, you arse, twist the knife,” Lando mutters exasperatedly, his thumbs drooping down and his smile dropping. Carlos can’t help but throw his head back in amusement, eking out apologies in between bouts of laughter. The younger just mocks the laugh, finishing the beer he’d been drinking.

The two are on the balcony of Lando’s flat, overlooking the expanse of Chelsea. The subject of girlfriends and looking for love had been between them for a while now, seeing as they were both single; they’d often greet each other with a Got a girlfriend yet, cabrón? And, while the conversation was generally harmless, it did tend to push Carlos into a state of introspection regarding his own love life.

“But honestly, really.” Carlos says. “I just don’t know if a girl is what I need right now. Unless somebody perfect drops on my lap.”

“I’m going to ignore how pervy that sounds—but I get it. I guess the career thing’s just the priority, huh, mate? And speaking of career”—Lando rifles through his jacket pocket and fishes his phone out—“we’re going to be late for dinner if we don’t leave in the next fifteen.”

Ah, dinner: the only reason Carlos had chartered a jet to London earlier today in the first place. Proposed out of sheer fun and then carrying on because it actually seemed like a doable idea, Lando had texted a few drivers and invited them and however-many-pluses they wished to bring to an upscale restaurant in the city as a way to get in touch.

It didn’t seem ideal, until they realized that 1. Lando, George, and Alex were already in London, and 2. Charles was with family and had a meeting there, too, and—well, at that point Carlos had basically succumbed to peer pressure and gotten on a jet straight to the UK. Lando always had a penchant for making these plans and spending the entire time making dirty jokes and/or getting tipsy and/or using his camera to take pictures of any and everyone, which really just made the dinners all the more fun.

They clean up the bottles of beer they’d drank from, and Carlos pulls his coat on by the door, still unused to the overcast British weather. “Who’s there later?”

“The boys, Arthur… Lily, Carmen. I think. I mean nobody brought their mums or whatever. That’s all of ‘em, I suppose.” Lando inspects his outfit in the mirror by the entryway and swaps out his jacket for a different one, ushering Carlos out the door and into the waiting car. Something about I’d rather be driven around than drive a pretentious sports car around the city looking like a daft prick.

They’re halfway to the restaurant, both on their phones, when Lando suddenly gasps softly and goes, “Right, and Charles’ sister is going too.”

Carlos looks up, interest piqued. He hadn’t heard much of Charles’ sister before—you’d dropped by a few races, and had always been present for the entirety of the Monaco weekend, but you weren’t engaged in racing as much as Charles’ other siblings. He’d shaken hands with you and made the polite, necessary, albeit totally rushed small talk. “Y/N,” he recounts. “Right?”

“Yessir,” Lando says, letting Drake filter through the AUX of the car. “The one in law school.”

He nods, trying to pick out specific memories. None really come to mind—it’s all introductions that repeat themselves. Hi, Carlos Sainz, Charles’ teammate. Oh, hi, I’m Charles’ sister. He faintly recounts finding you pretty, but having not seen you at the paddock for quite a while, he considers his memories dubious at best. He leans back and listens to Lando rap Rich Flex with an obnoxiously posh accent instead, and figures if he dies now, at least he wouldn’t have to keep hearing this.

The restaurant is nearer than they anticipate, so the Drake rap-along session is cut blissfully short, the pair being ushered into the private seating area, coats taken and wine served. They join George, who, at his insistence, had made the reservation in the first place even if Lando had suggested the restaurant, and Carmen.

“Charles and Albon?” Carlos asks when he takes a seat, greeting the couple.

“Charles and Arthur are on their way, but Alex is stuck in Harrods with Lily and Y/N. They got busy looking for shoes or something. Poor guy,” George says, half-laughing.

“I so wish I met up with the girls beforehand,” Carmen mopes, “the sale at Harrods is amazing.”

The conversation descends into a multitude of different topics, as they always do when Lando and George lead the way—racing (obviously), Carmen, Daniel Ricciardo even, dogs, any plans of adopting dogs, and then, because George Russell is a little shit, he says: “Feels nice being the only guy with a girlfriend at the table right now, innit?”

Carmen pinches his arm but he persists with a smile. “No, but really. You two are just about the most eligible bachelors ever and still single. What gives?”

“I for one am not into monogamy at the moment,” Lando says matter-of-factly. “I’m twenty-three, mate. I’m trying to have fun. But Mr. Almost Thirty here is a different case.”

“Ay,” Carlos gripes. “It’s not an involuntary thing. Just want to focus on racing.”

He prays then for this topic to come to a close so he won’t have to explain himself all over again, and reprieve comes in the form of Charles and Arthur entering the room. Already Charles is talking, before he even takes a seat, and Arthur is nodding along—something about how London traffic sucks, how are your streets so small, mate, oh my God Harrods is so full, Lily and Y/N have been at it for hours, poor Alex, he volunteered to stay. The guy spouts words quickly and easily, in an accent that sounds both English and French.

The rest of the wait time happens fast—Lily and Alex rush through the entrance, apologizing for being late. The lines are so long, Lily explains, taking a seat and leaving the other side empty. When her boyfriend tries to sit there, she swats him away, goes, babe, no, that’s for Y/N. So her boyfriend sits woefully across her and beside Carlos instead.

“Where is Y/N?” Charles asks. Carlos is also curious, albeit inwardly. He didn’t even know you were arriving until late, and still he hasn’t seen your face.

“Sorry, I had to check something with the valet,” a voice goes, and then you’re sliding into the seat across him.

The thing is, Carlos has been stunned before.

It’s sort of a non-negotiable when you go into such a demanding, high-risk sport. If he’s careening into another car, or the side of a circuit—obviously, it stuns him. Everything spins into slow motion for a few nerve-wracking seconds. But he’s also been stunned in all the good ways: when he can tell he’s in the lead, when he overtakes the car in front of him, when he bounds past the flag and realizes it’s a podium finish. So, yes—Carlos is fully familiar with the gut churning, belly spinning delirium of being stunned. So familiar, in fact, that he’s grown familiar with it, developed a second skin for it, welcomed it with open arms.

Which also explains the way he sees you laughing quietly at something Lily says and subsequently realizes, with apprehension and dread, that he is stunned.

—

The first time it happens is after the dinner—not just the dinner, but the drinks and the London walk that followed, accompanied by three noisy and drunk tour guides (read: Lando, George, Alex). Charles and Arthur, almost as drunk, follow the tour with loud jabs of their own, and Lily and Carmen are filming everything on their phones. You’ve been on your phone checking an email, and Carlos takes a call from his cousin, which naturally leads both you and him to trail behind the group.

So, when you’re both done taking calls and checking emails, it’s the two of you left to your own devices. You swing within the awkward few moments of deciding whether to rejoin the group or just keep trailing behind, your shoes clicking softly against the cobblestone pavement, accompaniments to Lando’s loud singing of Piano Man.

“What’d you think of the wine?” You ask, your accent sliding easy into the syllables but not losing its distinctiveness.

He pretends to ponder, even if he’d given Lando a full-scale review when they first left the restaurant, and turns back to you. “It was okay. A bit too sweet for my taste.”

“Exactly! That’s what I told Arthur, but he found it perfect. I guess kids these days just don’t have taste.”

You both laugh at your sarcastic use of “kids”, knowing you’re just two years older than your younger brother. Carlos opens his mouth to speak, trying to find footing, the perfect suave thing to say to possibly land himself in a position to flirt.

Right then, Lando reaches the crescendo of Somebody to Love (he can’t ever finish a song), and then Charles is turning around to find you and Carlos engaged in conversation. His lips stretch into a mischievous smile.

“Aye, Carlos! Back off the baby sister, mate!” He slurs, clapping Arthur on the back to catch his attention.

Arthur’s eyes narrow playfully, darting in between you both. Carlos just raises a middle finger in response, sending the brothers into unnecessarily extensive bouts of laughter. You roll your eyes, blowing a raspberry. “Putain. These fucking shitheads never leave me alone.”

George is in the middle of teaching Charles to say sod off instead of back off when Carlos purses his lips and, on a whim, turns and goes: “Is there a rule against dating drivers?”

You try and fail to hide a smile. “Hmm. None, I don’t think.”

Silence. Then you speak again, coy. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Carlos says. London is suddenly a place of magic. “No reason at all.”

—

It’s at an afterparty, the second time it happens—and technically the first where you and Carlos actually connect properly. In hindsight, it might’ve been stupid to flirt with him in the middle of the dance floor—something he thankfully realized in the moment, taking your hand and guiding you through the throng of people into the back exit.

Nobody said first kisses had to be remarkable in the romantic sense. Sometimes they’re in seedy European alleyways, with a fist bunched into his polo and a hand on your hip. It had to happen this way, because how else would two months of beating around the bush culminate? Because even if you’re drunk, you can’t stop thinking about how much you want to kiss him again. Tomorrow morning. And the next.

You pull away, but he speaks first, voice rushed and semi-sobered. “Let’s not.”

Humming, you try to swallow the lump of distress in your throat. “Why?”

“Because,” he says, nervous now, gulping. “Because—of the bro code.”

You stare. “Is that a Spanish thing?”

“B-ro c-ode,” he says again, enunciating the syllables; the Spanish accent doesn’t go away, and neither do his hands, hot and big on your hip and waist.

You move your hand from where it’s fisted into his shirt, cupping his neck. Then you burst out laughing, much to Carlos’ confusion. “That is so not a thing,” you press, unconvinced.

“It is. Bro code. I just crossed that line, dios mio,” he says, clearly way more stressed than you are.

“Bro code isn’t upheld for boys over twenty-one,” you say haughtily. Right then, you hear Arthur’s voice through the door and it swings open a few seconds later. In the span of those moments, you shove Carlos away nervously and attempt to look like you weren’t doing anything.

Arthur’s on the phone, speaking in quick French when he sees you and Carlos at a respectable distance. He tilts the phone away, mouths What’s up?, pointing at the both of you.

“I felt like vomiting and he was nearby,” you reply, nodding. He’s out of view, exiting the alleyway within seconds and back on the phone.

You exhale, and turn back to him. “Okay, so maybe the bro code is a thing.”

He looks at you as if to say no shit. “I don’t think we should do this,” he says, but his tone betrays himself.

“Okay,” you say. “Okay.”

“Right, yes.”

A beat. “Can you kiss me again?”

—

Against all odds, you and Carlos had managed to successfully start dating under your brothers’—ergo the majority of your mutual circle’s—noses. You’d only let it slip to a few close friends and family, and in Carlos’ case, Lando, because Lord knows the guy could not keep his mouth shut for the life of him. And even if it was stressful, and it often felt like any moment would be interrupted by somebody catching the both of you on the phone, or even together, neither of you could deny how good it was.

It’s five months later—five months of pure bliss, for the most part. Save for multiple close calls, you and Carlos had enjoyed each other’s company. You’d tried to navigate how everything would work once you realized you both wanted something more out of the relationship, but neither of you wanted to deal with the hassle of your overprotective siblings yet. You’d resorted to hours of FaceTime, everyday texts, and if the world was on your side, the occasional date.

The last method is easily your favorite, you both—and when the drivers get three weeks off and Carlos spends it in Las Vegas, that’s how it happens, the third time. Carlos visits you at your hotel, relishing in the eleven-thirty emptiness of the communal area, swimming in the jacuzzi and giggling about something into Carlos’ neck. You barely remember the joke; you’re honestly just welling up with enthusiasm and an endless supply of laughs that your boyfriend is finally with you.

Your head is still dug into Carlos’ neck, laughing about something else now, when you hear faraway footsteps. Having grown used to being a pseudo-patrolman, your eyes dart up immediately, and your stomach drops when you see, seriously, of all fucking people—Charles and Arthur.

“Oh my God,” you mutter, dumbfounded. A hand wet with jacuzzi water taps frantically on your phone; sure enough, you’d gotten texts from the both of them about dropping by your hotel for drinks. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

You disembark from your position on your boyfriend’s lap, hoping the hickey he sucked onto your neck won’t be visible from meters away. Your eyes shoot up again, and they still haven’t spotted you. Holding your breath and bracing yourself, you turn to Carlos, place two hands on his shoulders, and shove him underneath the water.

They spot you then, waving enthusiastically. “Drinks!” Arthur shouts, mimicking a beer bottle with his hand. You chew your lip nervously, raising one hand and waving back.

“Don’t wait up and I’ll just meet you at the bar!” You holler, watching as they pass through the entrance at a truly leisurely pace.

Once they’re in, you haul your boyfriend up and he breathes deeply, anxious. “Puta madre.”

“I think we should tell them soon. I don’t want you literally dying just for the sake of keeping us a secret,” you say, maintaining a safe distance and constantly turning toward the entrance just in case. You reach for his hand underwater.

“It’s thrilling, actually,” he winks.

“I’m sorry if it’s a bother.” You say woefully, guilt eating at you a little bit. But he takes your hand, squeezes it among the jacuzzi bubbles.

“Nothing’s a bother with you.”

—

Charles knocks on your Monza hotel room door when it happens the fourth time, opening it once he finds it unlocked—and then freezing when he finds you buried in your duvet ’til your shoulders. You’re in your silk pajama top, arms and mouth outstretched into a yawn when your eyes meet, hair disheveled. You blink.

“Charles.” You say confusedly, letting your arms drop. “Tu vas bien?”

“Mmm, ça va.” He pauses. “Et toi?”

“Moi aussi,” you say casually. “Any reason you came into my room without waiting for me to answer the damn door?”

He smiles, as if remembering why he invaded your privacy. “Right, I came in here to ask if you’ve seen Arthur.”

“I’m clearly by myself in bed, so no,” you respond cuttingly. “Last I checked he was walking around with Lando.” The two had become fast friends after the London dinner.

Your elder brother hums, then moves to take a seat on your bed, to which you quickly reach over, grab a complimentary soap bar (on the bedside table and not the shower, which you’d found weird), and toss it square at his face. “Ah—ay! What the fuck?”

“Don’t come near me,” you say. “I’m sick.”

“Sick? What rubbish. You were literally at the paddock hours ago totally fine.”

“Don’t be daft. Not that kind of sick, you arse—”

“Not that kind of sick,” he mocks, exaggerating his accent and raising his voice a few octaves to sound like a silly version of you. He raises an accusatory finger. “You lie, you lie!”

“I am not lying,” you insist irritably, sitting up a little and cocking your brow. “Tu es insupportable!”

You slide into a flurry of angry French and Italian in your valiant efforts to defend your innocence, and Charles is infected into doing the same. Eventually the room is just filled with indistinguishable insults and scoffed phrases of merde, ah bon?, and immensely accented What thuh helliz your problem?s. You even chuck another hotel soap at him for extra measure, but he manages to catch it this time. It’s childish, like many of your petty fights born out of irritance.

“I’m on my period, you prick,” you say as a last resort, once the insults have run their sufficient course. “I couldn’t be arsed to find Arthur.” His eyes narrow, doubting you, but ultimately he admits defeat, walking back to the door to exit your room. The door’s out of view of your bed, so you brace yourself, waiting for it to open and click closed.

“You better not be harboring a fugitive in here!” He says, but only half of here is heard before the door clicks shut and drowns him out. The tension leaves your body and you heave a deep sigh, relaxing backwards and biting your lip.

The thick silk duvet flips upward and Carlos surfaces, face flushed from being in hiding for so long.

One arm is still curled around your thigh, the inner part of which is rubbed raw from his facial hair being against it. You stare at one another with dopey smiles on your faces, relieved that you’d managed to act fast and flip the huge blanket over Carlos—although he had conveniently been in that position to begin with.

“Do either of you ever shut up?”

“One more word and I’m kicking you,” you say, reaching an arm out to stroke his jaw. You smile, laughing a little. “I’m not bluffing.”

“Scary, princesa,” he teases, hauling himself up to press a lasting kiss onto your lips. You smile into it, out of relief that your nosy elder brother didn’t catch you, but also out of the way your heart swells when Carlos smiles.

—

“You’re absolutely sure it’s the right room number?”

“100% positive. 613, Y/N Leclerc.”

“And not any other Leclerc.”

“Mate, I just said Y/N. Get a grip,” Lando scoffs. “My investigative skills pay off. Still don’t understand why you couldn’t have just asked her yourself, seeing as though you two are, I dunno, dating.”

“It’s a surprise, man,” Carlos says cuttingly, facing the lobby of the Hôtel de Paris. “Alright, thanks, cábron. I’ll see you soon.”

“Get some!” The Brit whoops, and then Carlos is taking the elevator to your room.

He didn’t think of himself as much of a surprises guy, but then again—he didn’t think of himself as much as a flowers and teddy bear guy, but he’d gotten you those every month since you became official; he didn’t think of himself as much of a physical touch guy, but he was always the one initiating hugs and cuddle sessions. The list goes on.

He knocks, fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

Much to his relief, it really is you who answers, with the face of surprise he wanted out of this. Before you utter a word, he’s dipping down to kiss you, and you find yourself returning the kiss, knowing you’d lost your boyfriend’s presence for so long. It quickens fast, and Carlos wedges himself in, kicking the door closed behind him.

You pull away. “Wait, I—”

He kisses you again, and you can’t resist, laughing at his persistence. He pulls away to tug his shirt off, and that’s when you crash back to reality. “Mmmm—Carlos, this isn’t my room!”

Everything happens fast after that.

The door starts opening and Carlos hears Charles on the other side of it, talking about there was a room mix-up, Y/N, this is mine and 615 is yours—he misses the rest of the sentence, clutching his singlet to his bare chest and allowing himself to be pushed by his girlfriend out the door of the balcony. Thinking he’s safe if just for a moment, he turns, but finds he still sees the room—the curtains don't cover him enough.

And if he can see the room, he figures, the room can see him. And if the room can see him, Charles will see him when he’s fully inside.

You’re gesticulating wildly with your hands, trying to find a way to distract your brother, turning away from Carlos briefly to maybe just accept your fate. Charles shuts the door, facing you and, consequently, the balcony doors. Your heart seizes. Surely, Carlos must be there—there’s no other place left for him to hide, unless he miraculously fit his blocky, broad frame behind a random potted plant.

“Something wrong?” Charles says, and you whip around. The balcony’s blissfully empty.

“N…othing.” You say. “Nothing.”

“D’accord,” he says promptly. “So. Dinner?”

Your head spins, unable to formulate a reply. Where could Carlos have hidden?

The balcony is a bit wide, but the entirety of it is visible, and, well—Carlos is clearly not. There’s one lawn sofa, and one plant, neither of which seem to harbor your favorite Spaniard, so where the fuck is he? Because of course, he’s not stupid. Surely. He’s twenty-eight, you think.

What kind of guy would climb onto the banister of the Hôtel de Paris just to hide from his girlfriend’s older brother?

Carlos cannot believe he’s on the banister of the Hôtel de Paris just to hide from his girlfriend’s older brother.

In the scurry of it, he hadn’t even gotten properly dressed. So here he is, braving the frigid sixth-floor air and the harrowing height at which he stands, brandishing his shirt like it’s a flag and standing like he’s on a podium. He feels like he’s about to die for love. Like some Shakespearean hero.

But when he digs deep he figures he doesn’t actually mind at all. Sure, he feels like he’s on the brink of death, but he realizes it’s for you in the end, and that comforts him. He never thought he’d do this, ever, not even if he was paid, or bet on, or for a Real Madrid win. He leans back and ignores the asphalt below. He’ll stay here as long as he needs to.

“Mate, get down from there.” Carlos looks up to see Charles and Arthur going absolutely mental, even taking a few photos for good measure. Relieved, scared, and just glad his stint on the banister is over, he climbs off and pulls his shirt back on, crossing his arms. He spots you inside, smiling but also insisting they delete the incriminating evidence.

In the end, seriously? This is the reaction you and he hid from for eight months? You walk over to place yourself beside Carlos, watching your brothers. Two fools laughing at everything, each other, their sister, and her boyfriend. “Jig is up,” Charles says. “But we’ve known since you two kissed outside that club.”

You roll your eyes; clearly, you’ve already been told this information. But Carlos is slack-jawed with shock—they did all that on purpose. How fucking cheeky, really. He figures they gave Lando the wrong room number through the grapevine, too.

“But,” Charles says, wiping real tears from his eyes, “I know you love my sister, mate, so I’ll be the first to say I approve. Arthur will be the second.”

“I approve,” says Arthur dumbly.

“We approve,” they say in unison, then they’re laughing all over again. You swat both of their arms in retaliation, which causes the teasing to subside.

“Now, cábron,” Charles says gleefully, “we do have a couple of questions for you…”

You squeeze his hand. Even if he prefers the banister, your presence is comforting all the same, and he’d answer any totally unnecessary, pointless, silly question from your brothers if it means he gets to hug you again later. If you told him eight months ago he’d be this in love, he would’ve laughed in your face. But here he is anyway.

It’s comforting.

#f1 #carlos sainz #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader

2K notes · View notes

madilovrs · 1 year

Text

Kitchen Dancing

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

summary: in a fit of insomnia, you decide to bake

1k words

warnings: a little suggestive at the end

You couldn’t sleep well the previous night for whatever reason. At around 6, you had given up and decided to make some breakfast for yourself, your brother, and your boyfriend. You carefully slipped out of JJ’s arms and put on your slippers and some shorts before leaving your room.

You tiptoed through the chateau, avoiding the creaky floorboards to not wake anyone up. Once in the kitchen, you realized that you don’t enjoy breakfast foods that much, so why would you make breakfast that you don’t even want to eat? You stood staring into the cabinet, trying to figure out what to make.

After some pacing and staring and contemplating what you and everyone else would like, you settled on cookies.

You grabbed the ingredients and pans and bowls for their respective cabinets and placed them gently on the counter. You preheated the oven, mixed the wet ingredients, then the dry ingredients, then poured the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients in small increments. You put the small ball-shaped dough onto pans and placed them in the preheated oven. the whole house now smelling strongly of vanilla. You started the clean-up process and turned on some music to listen to while you waited fifteen minutes for the cookies to bake.

The water rushed so loudly as you cleaned the bowls that you didn’t hear your bedroom door open. It wasn’t until you felt a pair of strong arms around you, a cheek pressed against your shoulder, and fluffy blonde hair at the corner of your vision that you noticed that someone else entered the room.

“Hi, baby,” you smiled, turning off the water, putting the bowl down, and drying your hands.

JJ groaned and squeezed you tighter. You giggled and turned in his arms.

“What are you doing up so early?” you questioned as you kissed his cheek.

“Woke up to go pee and you weren’t there, needed to find you,” he mumbled, not picking his head up off your shoulder.

“Go back to bed, love, cookies will be done soon, you can have some when you wake up.”

He grumbled at your words, a silent “Hell no.” You sighed and walked him over to the couch.

“Lay down, baby,” You said while peeling him off of you.

He did as told but never let go of your wrist. If it wasn’t your intention to lay down with him, you were going to anyway. JJ didn’t give you an option.

You settled down with your head on his chest. He pulled you impossibly further into him. This was your happy place: wrapped in the arms of the boy that you loved.

Before you knew it, you peered up at the oven timer and saw that there were only 46 seconds left. You inhaled and exhaled deeply before speaking, “Didn’t you get up because you had to pee, love?”

JJ sighed and patted your back twice, your guys’ little sign that you had to stop cuddling to get up.

You stood up off of him and helped him up. He gave you one last tight hug before walking past you to the bathroom. You took this opportunity to turn your music back on and slip your hands into oven mitts.

The oven beeps loudly just as JJ is walking out of the bathroom. You open the oven and grab the pan of cookies, placing them on the stove to let them cool.

Once you take your hands out of the oven mitts and place them on the counter, JJ wraps his arms around you again.

He sways his hips with the beat of the music you are playing, taking you with him. You turned around in his arms and pressed your hands to his face. Neither of you could stop yourself from smiling. The two of you danced all around the kitchen to the music playing from your phone.

As the song came to an end, JJ sat down on the couch, silently begging you to sit with him. You couldn’t grant his wishes, so you bent down to where your lips grazed his ear.

“I can’t, love, gotta finish up the cookies,” you whispered in his ear. You could visibly see his goosebumps and the shiver running down his spine. You placed a kiss under his ear and trailed your fingers under his jaw before you turned away back to the kitchen.

As you moved the cookies from the tray to the cooling rack, you felt JJ come up behind you again. This time he pulled you in tighter, pressing his hips into your own. You hummed in contentment, knowing you did a good job at teasing him.

He began to tuck his hand under the waistband of your shorts before you heard another door open in the chateau.

“Good morning!” your brother yelled rather loudly as he exited his bedroom. He did this every day since you and JJ had started dating, you suspected to make sure he doesn’t witness anything he didn’t want to. Today, you were very thankful for that. JJ swiftly moved his hand out of your pants and created a small distance between you two.

Both you and JJ rang out quickly with your separate “good mornings,” as you tried to make yourselves look busy and not suspicious.

John B knew what you guys were doing, but pretended as if he didn’t for everyone’s sake. You finished putting the cookies on the cooling rack while JJ pulled out his phone, pretending to scroll through social media.

John B turned into the bathroom and JJ was on you again.

“Come on, baby, don’t tease me like that,” he said while pulling your hips to his again.

“We can’t, hun, B will be back any second,” you whispered while inches away from his face.

JJ let out a sigh and pulled away from you. He tried to hide it but you noticed him adjust his pants. You smiled to yourself and grabbed a cookie.

“Want one?” You said as if nothing had happened.

He opened his mouth and you obeyed, feeding it to him. He took a large bite and you did the same.

“You are the best baker, babe,” he said through bites. You smiled and offered him a bite.

“So,” John B started, coming out from the bathroom. “Any cookies for me?”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader fluff #a little suggestive 🤭#fluffy #cookies #outer banks #obx #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank obx

805 notes · View notes

nevernonline · 8 months

Text

✧.* sweet disposition; hjs

the innocence of youth, isn't it blissful? your youth was your childhood crush, joshua. a pretty boy from your hometown who became your best friend.

✧ paring: non-idol! joshua x fem! reader

✧ genre/s: high school crush! joshua, f2l.

✧ word count: 4.0k

✧ warning/s: swearing, kissing, some smutty scenes, mentions of substances (alcohol&weed mainly) mentions of illness, minors dni.

✧ note/s: sweet disposition by temper trap is one of my all time fav songs, and i was watching old sytycd episodes for my soul and when I heard it I knew I had to write a silly little fic. also def unedited so sorry. atp I'm just making a svt song series. lol. ily.

When he first met you in high school Joshua knew he liked you, something about your soft smile and ease of fitting into every social situation made him want to be your friend.

You were a transfer student from a public school into his much more prestigious private one and almost automatically fit in with everyone.

He admired you for that, but it wasn’t until the first year of knowing you passed that he realized he loved you.

You were sitting on a bench watching him and his team practice for a big lacrosse match, well not exactly watching the boys play and run around the field. But, sitting on a bench reading one of those romance novels you loved, like Wuthering Heights or some Jane Austen novel. Something about them made you invested in reading, Joshua tried, but he couldn’t shake the fact that someone in a period romance is dying of the plague or having a maid clean out their chamber pot before the rest of the royals arrive.

He was distracted by you more than ever that day. your glasses were changed into contacts, your legs longer, and your hair plaited into braids on each side of your head tied together with matching blue hair bands.

You felt your ears burning as you looked up from your novel, finding Joshua standing in the center of the field as the opposing team members scored a goal on his side and celebrated, but he was stuck. Stuck in a moment of noticing you before the coaches whistle dragged him out of his dream state.

He never confessed his feelings for you, not yet. He didn’t want to seem selfish now that you weren’t the nerdy girl he once met, but a girl transitioning into her own womanhood. Well, at least on the outside.

Time seemed to pass whenever you were with him and suddenly he realized it was the start of your senior year, just like that Joshua was back dreaming about asking you to the homecoming dance, a dance that you helped organize.

Joshua had an entire day planned to ask you on your first date, he would come over carrying a bouquet of flowers, carrying a dress in your favorite shade of blue, and him in his matching suit. He made dinner reservations and even made a book of things he loved about you, like your own Austen novel just from him.

When he rang your doorbell, a familiar face answered, but it wasn’t yours it was Soonyoung from his lacrosse team, dressed in a white suit adorned with a red sash, a sash he came to find out matched your beautiful long dress, and even the small flower placed in your hair.

A missed chance, now he looked like a fool standing in your doorway, but he lied. He just lied and told you that he needed your help asking someone else to the dance. Aside from the book he made, all the effort he put in for you was wasted on someone else.

After all was said and done, Joshua was happy you ended up going with Soonyoung. You were smiling, laughing, and dancing with someone who deserved your happiness. He was a nice guy, as nice as you were.

The book that Joshua made for you was still in his closet at his parents house, just like the rest of your memories together.

A few days later his flight landed on the route back to you. Stepping off the plane a gush of warm air and the smell of peaches hit his nose, something about it felt like you and that stupid peach flavored lip gloss you always wore.

Joshua looked around the airport feeling that maybe you would be here too, but he knew that you were off with your friend celebrating her birthday for the next two nights.

His mom pulled up on the curb in her black suv, greeting him with a comfortably tight hug and a small peck on the cheek and he was home.

He tried to ask her about you, maybe seeing if she had any information on where you went or if you were single, but she had no idea. She just told him to be patient and ask when he saw you.

After two days of going around to all of his old favorite places, some closed or turned into boutique clothing or vape shops, he still was met with the emptiness of not seeing you yet.

On that second night at home he met up with his friends and some of their significant others at a new bar that just opened a few months prior, to catch up and also to distract him from you, just for one night at least.

A few hours went by and his buzz grew stronger, he felt guilty he hadn’t thought about you most of his night, but why should he?

Soonyoung took the open space on the red leather couch next to Joshua and sat down two shots of tequila, a ritual for the two of them to keep their buzz going.

“What’s gotten into you tonight, Shua? You seem sad.”

“Uh, nothing I guess I just missed being here. I miss you guys.”

“Aw, we missed you too, but I don’t think that’s it. What’s going on?”

“I haven’t seen y/n yet, I’m nervous I guess?”

“Of course. You had the biggest crush on her, sorry for taking her to that dance.”

“No, it’s okay. I just- Well, I guess it’s dumb to be nervous. We still talk every day, but I just haven't seen her in real life in too long. It’s just weird I guess.”

“Are you still in love with her?”

“I don’t know, maybe. She’s probably just moved on from me.

“Is it eating you up inside? Wait, that's a dumb question clearly it is. You think she’s dating someone?”

“I’m not sure, I don’t think so. Unless you know something I don’t.”

“Na, last time I saw her she sat in the corner of the room on her phone the whole time texting you.”

“Really? See, she doesn’t even tell me when she goes out to parties.”

“Are you that jealous? You know y/n, she’s not like that, Joshua, stop getting weird and in your head about it.”

Soonyoung handed Joshua his phone that was placed face down on the table and then handed him a shot of liquid courage.

“Call her, ask her out. Don’t be a bitch.”

“You're right, thanks Hosh.”

Pulling up your contact information on his phone, two rings in you picked up, clearly half asleep from just getting back home.

“Shua? Hi, sorry I got home an hour ago. What are you doing?”

“Oh my god, sorry I woke you. I was just calling to see if you wanted to hangout tomorrow? I was thinking maybe Leslie’s for lunch and then the arcade or something?”

“Yeah, should I pick you up or meet you?”

“You can meet me, if that's okay? I’m going to a church thing with my mom, I’ll have her drop me off.”

“Sure, I’m going to go back to bed now okay? I promise I’ll be less tired tomorrow, Love you.”

“Okay y/n, I’ll see you then, okay? Sleep good, love you.”

“Oh, and Shua.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t let Soony give you too many shots okay? Save some alcohol room in your belly for me.”

“I promise, night angel.”

“Night, loverboy.”

Joshua’s nerves were beginning to get the best of him as he walked into the dim light of the italian restaurant and informed the host that he was here meeting his friend, as he was being ushered to the back he saw you seated at a small corner table, lit with a candle, wearing a slick black top and a pair of matching pants, a simple denim jacket was placed over your shoulders shielding you slightly from the air conditioning.

“Hi.”

You got up from your spot against the wall and greeted Joshua with a big hug when your giggles filled his ears realizing you were both dressed in nearly the same outfit.

“I see you got the memo, Joshua.”

“I see you still copy me after all this time.”

Gesturing for you both to sit back down, he noticed how casual you were after all this time spent apart, possibly just as a front knowing soon he’ll be back to teasing you once he snaps out of his awkwardness.

“So, how's your dad? Is everything okay?”

“He’s alright, he’s been in remission for a few months now.”

“I’m happy to hear that, really. I always loved your dad.”

The waitress came over at a perfect moment, a chance for Joshua to collect his thoughts and place an order for a bottle of wine to calm his quick heartbeat.

“So you have a boyfriend?”

“No, I’m too busy with med school and taking care of my dad to date, you know that. What’s with the weird questions? You want to know the next time I’m supposed to be on my period too? You sound like my mom.”

“Sorry, I just-”

And just like that, the waitress made her second entrance, bringing along the bottle of red liquid and your two meals, delaying Joshua’s chance once again to ask you his set of weird questions.

He let the moment pass while the two of you ate in silence and each had a glass to ease the awkward tension now lingering over your table.

“So-”

You both spoke up at the same time, you decided to let him finish his thought first.

“Okay, wait I just thought of another question. Why did you take Soonyoung to the dance and not go with me?”

“Because I had a crush on him, duh.”

“No way you had a crush on him? He used to pick his boogers and wipe them on his jeans.”

“I’m kidding. He was just a good friend, I was too shy to ask the guy I wanted so I asked him instead.”

“Who was the guy? Jun from your biology class? He was cute.”

“No, he was cute. But, this dude's name was like Joshua Honk or something, not sure if you knew him.”

“You had a crush on me?”

“Obviously, but you’re kind of a fucking idiot.”

“Okay, well how do you feel about me now?”

“This is the first time I’ve seen you in years and you're asking me what I think about you?”

“Yep, I need to know why I was your secret sexy crush.”

“Disgusting.”

“I’m waiting.”

You looked Joshua up and down, his hair was longer than normal, his eyes still big and wide, catching every glimmer of light inside of them like a cluster of stars, his lips were turned into a toothy smile. He was perfect.

“I think you’re okay.”

“Just okay? Damn. Whatever.”

“Want to take some dessert to go? I think we have some unfinished business.”

Waving over the waitress and paying your bill as she picked up your box of tiramisu, you and Joshua ran down the streets where you grew up to the very arcade you’d spend hours in after school.

“Okay, the winner gets what? I think we’re betting with more than tickets these days.”

“Well, y/n. I’m glad you asked. How about if I win, I get to take you home with me and if you win you get to take me home.”

“Seems like we’d both be getting what you want out of it.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to be with your super sexy secret lover, Shua Honk?”

“Win, and you’ll find out.”

“You’re on, but I’ll warn you I’m very good in bed.”

“Horny and sarcastic and horny very interesting combination for you, Honk.”

“Shut up and play.”

After hours of playing multiple games around the arcade you and Joshua were tied and his anxiety had been eased, all that stood between him and winning was a game of ski ball, a game which you were notoriously bad at.

“Need help with your game, y/n?”

A nod from you made Joshua push his chest against your back and wrap his arm around your waist, the other one held your hand helping you aim the ball on the black trackpad, a pull of your hips backwards into his sent a strong vibration down to your panties, that were now as wet as the saliva burning in your mouth.

“50 points? Not bad for a rookie.”

“You threw me off.”

“You really think you would’ve won even if I didn’t help you?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so distracting, yes.”

“I was just trying to help.”

“What? By thrusting into my ass?”

“I didn’t thrust? You pushed your ass into me?”

“No, I did not, you clearly made contact first.”

“Okay, well then that was a practice round, prove you can win with no help. I'll buy all your drinks tonight and if you lose, open your wallet, rich girl.”

“Fine, try to control the friend in your pants, loser.”

Joshua wanted to respond with some sarcastic remark not promising anything from the way he was watching you bed over to roll the ball from behind, but he decided to shut up and let you win, he wouldn’t have you paying for him anyway.

“You let me win, but I will be taking the drinks.”

“How did you know?”

“You threw the ball backwards twice to skip your turn, you’re good at many things but subtly is not one of them.”

“Okay, but still let me buy the drinks.”

“You were always going to pay anyway, I’m not wasting my cold hard cash on you, california boy”

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

Walking into the familiar dive bar you spent many late nights in after studying, you were hit with the sweet smell of beer and the crunching of peanut shells under your feet. You caught a glimpse of Joshua looking around at the various world flags on the wall.

“What? Not fancy enough for you?”

“No, I love it. I didn’t even know this was here?”

“Yeah, my dad told me about it. He comes with me sometimes to watch soccer, it’s cozy.”

“Sit down, I’ll go and order what would you like?”

“Just grab me a beer, maybe with a lime wedge?”

“And a shot?”

“Ugh, fine Joshua but I do not want to be responsible for carrying your drunk ass home.”

“No promises.”

Joshua strolled up to the wooden bar, greeted by the big man with facial hair behind it and placed the two matching orders, a shot of tequila and a beer with lime.

“You’re here with y/n?”

“Oh, y/n? Yeah, you know her?”

“I know her dad, good man. You her boyfriend?”

“No, just her friend. Nice to meet you..”

“Alan.”

“Alan, hey. I’m Josh.”

Alan shook Joshua’s outstretched hands and denied his card from being swiped for the alcohol.

“It’s on the house, if you’re friends with the y/l/n’s you’re friends with me. Enjoy and treat our girl well, if you’re the Joshua she tells me about, then I hope she gets her happy ending.”

“Wait what does that mean?”

“Oh, nothing you can’t figure out for yourself.”

Walking back over to your small bar table, Joshua decided to take the spot directly next to you in the booth and not across the table, maybe to hear you better and maybe so he can figure out what Alan was putting down.

“You met Alan?”

“Yeah, he told me to take care of you.”

“He’s protective, he normally scares the weird drunkards away from my table."

“I’m playing your bodyguard tonight, cheers.”

Throwing back your shot, you tried to calm the burning taste of alcohol from showing on your face, Joshua held up a slice of line to your lips and let you bite down on it before placing it between his.

“Ew, why didn’t you just use your own lime.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Sorry.”

“Want to kiss me that bad huh?”

“What are you talking about?”

You slapped his arm, taking a swig of your fresh beer.

“It was a joke, be quiet.”

“I do want to kiss you.”

“Oh, right. Okay, save the jokes. You don’t have to tease me for my crush anymore. I get it.”

“Do you still like me?”

“ I probably always will. At least some part of me. Why do you ask?”

“ I don't know, I asked you before what you like about me so do you want to know what I like about you?”

“My body?”

“No, but that doesn’t hurt. I like how kind you are. I like that everyone who meets you falls in love with you instantly because you’re so charming. I love that when you laugh or cry too hard you start wheezing a little bit because you’re embarrassed that someone could see you like that. I love that you, even after all this time, have the nicest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.”

A tear fell down from your eye, and Joshua’s long finger came up to cup your cheek, wiping it away with his thumb.

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m sorry. I just missed you.”

“You know I have something for you, it’s old but I've never had the chance to give it to you.”

Joshua pulled the brown leather bound notebook from his bag that had a laminated front titled ‘ The Girl from Nowhere.’

“What is this? Did you write a book?”

“Remember the night of the dance when I showed up at your house?”

“Yeah, when you needed me and Hosh to help you ask Suki?”

“Right. Well, I was actually there to ask you, but I saw Soonyoung and I couldn’t. He’s too good of a friend and you were happy. So, I lied. I actually had a dress for you to match me and this book. I wrote it for you because you were so obsessed with all those books, so it’s your own Austen novel.”

“You wrote me my own romance book?”

“Yeah, it’s outdated now, but it ended with me kissing you after the dance.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes, it was the most thoughtful thing he’d ever given you or anyone for that matter.

“Joshua, this is so nice. Seriously, when did you even have time to do this?”

“My mom gave me the idea. You and her always watched Pride and Prejudice together, she has the same taste. So technically it’s co-written by her, but she gave me all the credit.”

“Wow. I don’t really know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“Okay, then I’ll be right back. Give me like two minutes, don’t move.”

You peeled yourself off of Joshua and strutted up to Alan to ask a favor before running back to your table.

Suddenly the only lighting in the room was coming from the sporting matches on the flat screens and a few neon branded signs as a song Joshua hadn’t heard in years played over the speakers, Sweet Disposition by Temper Trap.

“Joshua Hong, will you do me the pleasure of dancing with me?”

“You’re so corny.”

“Get up, you’re embarrassing me. Let it happen.”

As the song rang through the speakers, he wrapped his hands around your lower back and pulled you in tightly, swaying you to the perfect song to describe falling in love in his youth, with the only person he ever pictured by his side. His own version of a romance novel.

You pulled away slightly as the beat got faster and grabbed his hands, running around to the other patrons in the familiar bar, crushing sounds of peanut shells under your feet.

Suddenly the whole bar was dancing along with you to the sound of nostalgia, even Alan was behind the bar top swaying along and singing into a broom.

It was this charm, the charm only you had to get the entire group of people dancing along with you.

After the song ended Alan handed out a round of shots and you took back your respective seats.

“Thank you, y/n.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“You made a weird childhood dream of mine come to life, it’s stupid, but it’s the truth.”

“It’s not stupid. And you did the same for me so it was only fair, want to go?”

“I’m not done with you yet.”

“I know, but there’s somewhere else we have to go.”

“Are you okay to walk?”

“Honk, I am not the lightweight here. I should be asking you that.”

“I am not a lightweight.”

“Okay, stand up.”

“Give me one second.”

“Exactly. Come on.”

Waving goodbye to Alan and the rest of the team at the bar, you pulled a very drunk Joshua down the old streets of your hometown, until you reached the best park bench in town.

It was older than both of you and maybe even your parents, carved with names and years of all the couples who sat right here. It was your favorite spot, even as a kid.

You and Joshua have a countless number of photos together on the very wood you sat upon now, staring at the calm sight of the nearby lake.

“Remember when we ditched that weird one year reunion party to come sit here?”

“Yeah, you had a joint that some weird guy dressed as a hotdog gave you.”

“Yes, it was someone that knew Soony, not sure why but his nickname is Dino? We just sat here all night and smoked it. So, I may have gotten his contact from someone and picked up a couple.”

“Y/N you did not.”

“Yes, it’s in my purse. I’m not letting you smoke it though, you’re too drunk. So it’s just a prop, but-“

Out of your small leather bag, you pulled a perfectly rolled joint and held it up to Joshua's face.

“I thought it’d be funny to bring one, that was the first time I ever took a hit so it’s special.”

“You know most people have their first kiss on this bench, not their first joint.”

“I had my first kiss in sixth grade at a roller rink, this is more important.”

“A roller rink? What the hell.”

“Yeah, a story for another time.”

Joshua grabbed the brown wrapped object from your hand and pulled a match box from Leslie’s out of his pocket.

“For old times sake?”

“Fine, but you really need to stop talking like you're in your eighties.”

With the strike of the match and the smell of sulfur hit your nose and the flame between you ignited. A corny thought, but it was the truth.

Taking in a large inhale and holding it in your lungs before passing it off to Joshua, you sat and stared at the blue water.

“By the way, I like everything about you just so you know. I was being stupid before. I think you’re maybe the only person in the world I’ve ever trusted.”

As the flower kept passing between you, Joshua scooted closer, resting his hand on your clothed thigh awfully close to the crease of your pelvis.

“Me too. Not about myself, about you. Tonight proved to me that moving back was the right choice.”

“Wait, you're back for good? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Would that have changed tonight?”

“Yeah, I would’ve probably been in your bed by now. I was too scared to confess how I felt. But, fuck I’m in love with you. I always have been.”

Choking on the cloud of smoke in his lungs, Joshua stuck the small roach of the joint in his pocket and kissed you.

“Does that mean I can take you home?”

“I don’t fuck on the first date.”

“Classy girl, I like that.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“I love you too.”

“So when’s the second date? Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, come sleep over on the couch and we can go for breakfast.”

“The couch? Like a dog?”

“ My dog sleeps in my bed.”

“Kick her out for one night, I reserved the spot first.”

“Okay, let’s go. No funny business, Honk.”

“Can we brainstorm a cuter nickname, I don’t know like Hunk?”

“No, Honk stays. Let’s go to bed.”

Holding hands and kissing at stop lights on your way, he was back and you were never letting him go again.

169 notes · View notes

pasukiyo · 11 months

Note

I looove the one with Riddle and Quidditch reader. What do you think about writing something with the “I knew you were trouble when you walked in” Taylor? I can see him fitting perfectly in the line and the song you know some angst but in the end we all know they both fall for each other but everything’s up to you if you feel it!

𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 | tom riddle

tom riddle x f!reader word count: 4,054 words warnings: smut and angst summary: tom riddle was trouble. you knew it, at least, deep down. but when he touched you like this, how could you possibly let him go?

The bell above the door to Borgin and Burkes rang as it opened, and Tom Riddle knew exactly who it was without even having to turn around.

“It’s you,” he said over his shoulder as he lifted the small locket he was inspecting, hearing the click of her heels against the stone as she approached. It was silent for a few moments, save for the sound of his handkerchief on the metal of the locket Tom was cleaning and he cocked an eyebrow, glancing over his shoulder to where she stood, shaky hands clasped together and resting on the top of the counter. When she noticed he was looking she blinked, peering down at her fingers.

“Yes,” she replied, “I… I wanted to…” as she tried to find the right words to say, she realized that she didn't really know why she was here. She didn’t know why she always came running back to him, putting herself in danger just to slip into the shadows of Knockturn Alley— just to see him. But no matter how hard she tried, she could never stay away from Tom Riddle— he was just too addicting and she was unfortunate enough to be smitten. “…I wanted to see you.”

The corner of Tom’s lips twitched and he carefully set the necklace back down on the counter, dusting his hands off with the second handkerchief hanging out of his back pocket. “Is that right?” He said teasingly as he sauntered his way to the counter, resting his elbows beside her hands, leaning on them for support. “Well then, I’m flattered.”

Her eyelids fluttered when she dared to meet his gaze, heat spreading like a wildfire across her chest, trailing down to pool between her legs. Her feet shifted beneath her weight and she blinked, glimpsing down at the necklace he was tinkering with moments before.

“That’s a beautiful necklace,” she murmured, nodding towards where it sat between them. Tom peered down at it, now leaning on a single elbow as he eyed the locket, the green snake on the top shimmering even in the dim candlelight. “Yes, it was my mother’s,” he replied, scooping the locket back into his palm, turning the pendant over in his fingers.

She eyed it again, a small smile creeping upon her lips. Tom never talked much of his family— this was a first. “It’s gorgeous,” she said again. “Is it a locket?”

Tom hummed in reply, glancing back over to where she stood, a smile of his own creeping upon his lips. “Come closer,” he said, beckoning her forth. She blinked at him, her hesitation locking her limbs in place. But when Tom called her forth once again, his dark eyes warm, inviting even, she let her eyelids flutter shut, willing herself to stay calm as she braved a few steps closer. Tom furrowed his brows as he circled around the counter, coming up to stand beside her.

“Why do you always seem so nervous?” He questioned and she watched as his hand fell upon her shoulder, his skin melting down into hers. Her breath hitched at the base of her throat and she inhaled a sharp breath, glimpsing back at him. “I’m… I’m not…”

“You are,” he muttered close to her ear, the pad of his thumb soothing over the curve of her shoulder. “You can relax with me, you know,” he tittered, as he removed his hand, her skin cool without his warmth. In the next moment, the locket was coming down before her vision, and only when he began to fasten it around her neck was it that it occurred to her that he was giving it to her.

“There,” he murmured, wiping her hair from her neck with one hand and with the other, reaching for a small mirror on the corner of the counter, holding it up before her. Her reflection stared back at her and she eyed the locket on her chest, glancing back to Tom’s reflection. “You look beautiful,” he whispered against the shell of her ear, his breath hot and making her bones quake.

“It’s… it’s beautiful, Tom, but I couldn’t possibly—“

“I want you to have it. It’s yours,” he interrupted, his palms dropping to circle around her elbows as he turned her to face him, their stomachs touching. For a moment, all was silent, and the world seemed to spin behind them the longer she stared into the voids of his pupils. She blinked and her lips broke apart when he reached a hand to the crown of her head, swiping a loose strand of hair away from her face.

“I want to see you tonight. Will you meet me back here later?”

She blinked at him, feeling as though she’d melt right then and there. The brooding, handsome Borgin and Burkes clerk’s dark, piercing gaze sent her down into a spiral, his stare so intense, she felt weak-kneed. She shifted her feet beneath her weight as she broke their gaze, glancing around the empty shop and observing the items that lined the shelves. Dread crept down her spine until she eventually looked away altogether, swallowing the ball of saliva resting at the base of her throat back down.

“Here?” She replied in a whisper, mustering enough courage to meet his stare once more. Tom Riddle tilted his head, an almost knowing gleam in his eye that made her stomach churn. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

Again, she glanced away, peering out the window and into the shadow that was Knockturn Alley, a shiver slithering down the coil of her spine at the thought of the place after dark. It wasn’t until he gave her elbow a soft squeeze and grabbed her chin with his thumb and forefinger that she dared to meet his gaze once again, staring wide-eyed up at him.

“You’ve nothing to be afraid of,” he murmured, the pad of his thumb soothing over her arm. Her eyes surged into his and she made the mistake of letting herself fall deeper into his sea of obsidian, suddenly losing track of time until she realized she was already lost completely. “You are safe as long as you are with me. You know that, don’t you?”

It wasn’t anything to do with the way he said it. It was something about the darkness in his eyes, the chills his stare sent down her body that made her feel like she was making a mistake. And she knew she was. She knew all too well that getting involved with Tom Riddle was trouble— he’d changed since Hogwarts.

And she knew it.

But still, she didn’t run. She didn’t hide.

How could she when something as simple as his touch made her feel so good?

Her breath shook as she inhaled and her vision made its steady trek from his wrist down to the cuff of his black button-up’s sleeve, eyeing the veins erecting from his pale skin. Her gaze lingered over his upper arm, studying the way his sleeve hugged his bicep over and over again until the image could be burned in her memory. When she dared to trail her stare up his chest and over his chin until their eyes surged into one another, the pad of Tom’s thumb soothed over the flesh of her bottom lip as it quivered.

“Yes,” she finally whispered in reply. “I trust you.”

Tom didn’t blink, but something most definitely shifted in his eyes, like a shadow casting over, eclipsing whatever little light was left inside. She was shrouded in darkness now, his shadow penetrating her mind and ridding every lurking suspicion she had. All she could think about now was Tom and how much she couldn’t wait for him to touch her tonight.

The corner of his lips curved into a half smile. “Good.”

The bell above the door rang when it opened and she blinked down at their joined hands, gasping and pushing away from him all at once. She was frozen, staring wide-eyed into Tom’s dark gaze as his eyes linger for just a moment longer on her until he glanced away, curling his lips into a smile at the customer.

“Mr Malfoy! A pleasure to see you again, sir,” Tom greeted a tall, slender man with shoulder length platinum blonde hair as he circled around the counter to stand behind it once again. The man sauntered his way towards where she stood, coming to a halt beside her. She snuck a glance from the corner of her eye at the man just in time to catch his gaze, her cheeks flooding with color once more as she looked away, locking her fingers in front of her hips and eyeing the ground below her feet.

“Oh please, Tom, you make me feel too old with all the formalities,” Mr Malfoy tittered, waving a hand. “Abraxas will do just fine.” Tom emitted a breathy laugh and nodded, clasping his hands together. “Of course. What can I do for you today, Abraxas?”

Again, Abraxas Malfoy glanced over to the woman beside him from the corner of his eyes and she felt her stomach flip when she jumped pushing away from the counter. The two men watched as she shuffled back towards the door, the cool metal of the knob jabbing at the small of her back and she gasped, moving to clasp her hand over it instead.

“I… I should be going now,” she managed to say, twisting the door handle and pulling it open. She grasped at the pendant of the locket on her neck as Tom’s smile widened, tilting his head. “I take it I’ll see you tonight then?” He asked, voice deep and calm, as smooth as silk and sweet like honey. Her molars sunk into the inside of her cheek and she bowed her head in a nod. “Yes. I’ll be seeing you.”

And then she was gone, slipping into the shadows of Knockturn Alley with her head down as she weaved her way through the street until she was finally back in the light of Diagon Alley. Her heart was pounding against her chest and she panted, suddenly feeling short of breath.

She didn’t know why she always went back, why she could never stay away. It was as if she were bewitched, like Tom Riddle had her under a spell, some sort of wicked, twisted trance. And how could she break herself from it when her heart swelled for him, when he touched her like she was a treasure, when he treated her like maybe, just maybe, he loved her too?

She wandered up and down the streets of Diagon Alley for hours until it was time to meet him again, unable to shake her thoughts of Tom. He was like a shadow always lingering in the back of her mind, a ghost haunting her, possessing her until she was completely and utterly his. His mother’s locket around her neck only made her think of him more, made her feel for him more. Each step she took made her burn for him, every breath she took made her yearn for him even more.

And soon, she was back in Knockturn Alley, its shadows beckoning her forth into its open arms, snatching her from the warmth of Diagon Alley. The streets of the alley were just as she had expected them to be, and she clutched the necklace to her chest to help ease her nerves. With her head bowed, she finally made her way to the front steps of Borgin and Burkes, her fingers circling the doorknob.

Her chest burned with the breath she hadn't even realized she’d been holding in as she twisted the knob, peeling the door open to reveal the inside of the shop. It was darker inside now— no light flooded through its windows, leaving the only source of light coming from a candle set on the counter where Tom would usually be. As she stepped inside and glanced around, she realized that he was nowhere in sight— she seemed to be alone.

Anxiety weighed like a boulder on her chest and she parted her lips, his name heavy on the tip of her tongue. “…Tom?” She called into the empty shop, willing him to appear. She shuffled her feet closer together as the door swung shut behind her and she jumped, gasping as the sound permeated the shop.

She called his name again, her heart thrusting harder against her chest now, her ever-growing lump of anxiety in her chest spreading to the base of her throat, rendering her speechless.

“You came.”

She nearly jumped from her skin at the feeling of hot, lingering breath over her ear, pivoting around on her heel with the hairs on the back of her neck erect to face the source of the voice. And there Tom Riddle stood in all his haunting glory, the darkness suiting him rather nicely.

His eyes were as dark as ever, illuminated solely by the candlelight on the other end of the room. She could feel his gaze consuming her, his darkness pulling her into its bottomless void, and she felt featherlight, weak.

“Of… of course,” she replied, flinching when he stepped forward, outstretching an arm to reach for her. Tom blinked, his fingertips soft as they caressed the hot skin of her cheek, drawing her in near enough that he could cradle her face in the palm of his hand. He was closer now and she stared up at him, unable to decipher where his pupils began and his irises ended.

“You are so…” he began, his eyes trailing down her body, fluttering his lashes when he looked back up at her. Her breath hitched at the base of her throat when his lips parted again to say. “…obedient.”

His gaze was intense, so hot she felt she’d melt in pools of magma at his feet. She gulped the ball of saliva back down her throat as his other hand reached for the pendant on her chest, soothing his fingers over the shape of the snake. She flushed when he touched her, a flood of color surging to her cheeks with each brush of his skin against hers. Tom noticed when she shuddered, the corner of his lips quirking in a smirk.

“Always so nervous,” he muttered, stepping closer until his body was flush with hers, his breath hot as it loomed over her skin like smoke. “I told you you can relax around me.”

Her breath shuddered when she nodded, her eyes falling upon his lips and never before has she wanted to kiss him more than now. Tom’s thumb soothed over her chin as his fingers curled around her jaw, drawing her in nearer until her lips were enveloped with his own. She gripped onto his elbows for support as he stepped forward, pushing her until the side of the counter hit the small of her back.

Tom loomed over her like a tower as he kissed her harder, pulling her in even deeper into him. His tongue was warm in her mouth as it exploded, grazing against her teeth and she moaned into him, burrowing her fingernails into the skin of his forearms exposed beneath his rolled sleeve.

His hips were surging into hers, a spark igniting between her legs at the feeling of his erection prodding against her and Tom pulled away, pink lips glossy and slick with saliva. Her chest heaved as she chased air back into her lungs while his fingertips traced a trail down her neck and to her shoulders, all the way down to the shoulders of her dress. Her skin littered with goosebumps when he tugged the material down until it fell limp at her elbow, dragging his fingernails along her skin as he did the same to the other shoulder.

“Beautiful,” Tom murmured beneath his breath as he undid the rest of her dress, letting it look at her feet. She shuddered as the cool air hit her flesh, her cheeks warming at his words as he grasped her hand, guiding her out of the mess of fabric beneath her. Tom’s lips were back on her in an instant, his palms feeling up her waist as he kissed just below her ear, her jaw falling slack and her eyelids fluttering closed when he trailed down to her throat.

“T… Tom?” She mewled when his hands slithered around her waist and grabbed ahold, lifting her from the ground. She snaked her arms around his neck as he set her down on the top of the counter, her knees on either side of his waist as he kissed down, down, down her body, through the valley of her breasts, past her belly, all the way to the treasure between her legs.

She squeezed her eyes closed and threw her head back when he kissed just above her aching clit, making her throb for him, making her yearn for him. Tom gazed up at her through hooded lids, a shadow casting down over his face, even if she couldn’t see. His tongue teased a few circles around her clit before ultimately collecting it in his mouth altogether, making her writhe, making her beg.

Tom released her clit, his tongue moving to lick a stripe up from the underside instead. She clawed at the wooden countertop, her fingernails sure to leave marks.

Tom adored her like this— under his control, weak, reliant on him. He adored the way she tasted, how sweet she was on the tip of his tongue. He adored how she looked when he ravished her, how teary-eyed she’d get, how her skin would heat up, how her jaw would go slack in pleasure.

He’d miss this.

As much as it pained him to admit it, he would.

“You taste so sweet,” he murmured against her skin as he trailed kisses back up her body, back between the valley of her breasts, all the way to the locket resting on her throat. He eyed the green snake in the middle, suddenly painfully aware of what he had been planning to do all along.

Tom pressed his lips together in a firm, thin line as he pulled away, working at the buttons of his shirt and she watched as he peeled his clothes off of his body, layer by layer. He reached into his trouser pocket to fetch his wand, carefully placing it beside her before stripping them from his legs, carefully stepping out of them until he, too, was completely nude, standing in all his glory before her.

Even through the murkiness of her mind and the haze in her vision, she admired how he looked, all pale skin and toned muscle. He was a work of art, a masterpiece carved by the gods themselves. How lucky she was to have him as her canvas.

Her gaze trailed down his stomach to the erection between his legs, his tip red and furious, the veins prodding up against the skin of his shaft. She felt something blossom in her chest at the way it twitched before he took himself in his hand, giving himself a few pumps as his hungry eyes ravished her body. It was a tenderness she could only ever remember feeling with him— even in spite of all her suspicion around him.

But when Tom steadied himself between her legs and the head of his cock pushed ever so gently against her slit, she thought to herself: how could she ever have suspected him of such terrible things? How could he possibly be bad if he touched her like this, if he kissed her like this, if he fucked her like this?

Her fingernails etched crescent moons into the skin between his shoulder blades as she pressed her breasts flush against his chest, squeezing her eyelids shut and resting her chin on the breadth of his shoulder. Her breath was hot against his, her kisses even hotter.

Tom grunted as he set his pace, not too slow, not too fast, calculated, firm. For a moment, he let himself be lost in the pleasure, let himself go for the sake of his lust. He reached for his wand where it lay beside her, the white yew weighing heavy in his hand, and his wrist wobbled as he held it up to point between her shoulder blades. The incantation of the killing curse sat heavy on the tip of his tongue, but unable to emit.

There was a fire burning in his chest the longer he stayed thrusting inside of her, the more she squeezed and clenched around him, the more she whined and whimpered, asking him for more. There was a fluttery feeling in his heart that he could only feel with her, driving him even more mad, sending him further down into a spiral.

But it wasn’t until she parted her lips to speak that he realized just how far he had gone.

“Oh, Tom! I… I can’t… I… I love you!”

Tom snapped his eyelids open, suddenly aware of his surroundings, suddenly aware of the locket around her neck, suddenly aware of the wand he clutched in his hand. And suddenly, he was aware of the pounding of his heart, of the dread creeping down his spine, of the burning of tears in his eyes.

And suddenly, he realized that he loved her too.

Tom’s cheeks warmed with color and he hissed, a string of curses slipping past his lips as he quickened his pace, his thrusts harder, faster, rougher. No longer was he the calm, cool, collected Tom Riddle most had come to know. That she knew.

No. Tom was an angry man now. He was a heartbroken man.

It wasn’t fair… how could it have ended up like this?

How could he, Tom Marvolo Riddle, the future of the wizarding world, have allowed himself a weakness? How could he have let himself do the very thing he told himself he never would— fall in love?

Why couldn’t his heart stop burning for her? Why did he find it so difficult to let her go? Why was he hesitating?

“Tom, fuck! I’m… I’m going to… I’m…”

She was so close, on the brink of climax, so close to spilling herself all over him, so close to the end. Tom bit at the inside of his cheek, trying to will his tears to stay in his eyes— he was running out of time.

His grip on her waist tightened as he fucked her harder, pushed her even closer to the edge, at the same time, chasing his own end. He’d have to decide— risk everything he’d been working so hard for until it all became all for naught, or follow through with his plans, kill her, and leave himself to deal with a broken heart?

His wand threatened to slip from his hand.

But then, the locket pressed against his chest when she cried, pulling herself closer into his body, letting herself go for him, her warmth coating his cock until he too saw white.

And then he saw red.

Tom inhaled a sharp breath as he tightened his grip around his wand, blinking past the haze of tears as he wrapped his opposite arm around her neck, hugging her to his chest. Her eyelids fluttered open and she sniffed, blinking back her own tears. Once the blurriness had melted from her vision, she could just make out their reflection in one of the mirrors across the room, her mind, at first, not believing the sight staring back at her.

It was her face staring back at her next to the back of Tom’s head, a cream colored object poking its head from just behind her ear.

Her lips fell apart in a gasp when she realized what it was.

Tom’s lips trembled before his face fell, ridding his face of emotion despite angry fire raging through his rib cage.

“Avada Kedavra,” he whispered, barely managing to recite the incantation. She relaxed in his arms, her body falling limp against his, lifeless. Tom sunk his teeth down into the flesh of his bottom lip as his eyes burned with the bitter sting of tears once more, reaching behind her neck to unfasten Salazar Slytherin’s locket, his fourth Horcrux.

a/n; um so... i finally finished this fic LMAOO only took me like two weeks! anyways, i hope you enjoyed this fic! and i hope it was what you were hoping for anon! i'm sorry if it seems a little rushed, i was struggling to gain the motivation to write but i'm so happy i finally finished! love writing taylor inspired fics teehee

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓;

@oliviajdjarin @darkmoviesquotespizza @lyis @upsidedownspidey

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fic #tom riddle smut #wizarding world #harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter imagine #harry potter fic #tom riddle x you #voldemort #voldemort x reader

273 notes · View notes

velvetcloxds · 4 months

Text

GONE | E.M.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: written before the inspo guy totally ruined this concept for me, how very fitting the first title was inspired by that song

summary: your dad made it clear you and eddie weren't allowed to even see each other, let alone talk to each other, eddie takes the risk to come and surprise you on valentines day

previous parts: linger | fleeting

You were frustrated to be at work, it was odd being at another building while someone else was trying to use your system and clear a mess you’d already tried to clean only to be taken away from it before it was done. You got constant calls from your dad, questions which prompted you to drop everything and solve their problems even while not there. More than anything you were back to the realization that this job absolutely sucked, Eddie had been enough of a distraction to help you forget all of that. Your dad declared a strictly no communication order between you and Eddie, he’d found him with a hand on your shoulder, leaning over you to check the booking list and it was like all the little puzzle pieces fell into place and he realized the two of you were actually not just good at working together.

In a perfect world, you’d riot, and rebel against the notion but you knew better, you weren’t supposed to get close to Eddie in the first place, to anyone who works with or for your parents. It made total sense, you knew as much, he reminded you about how being his daughter meant that you weren’t just a girl working with a boy your age and being too friendly about it, you were creating a weakness in the business, and it might seem all nice and dandy for the time being, but people change, motives change.

It was engrained in your head to consider the family, protect the brand, the name, you’d never even looked at any of the other workers too friendly for that very reason, but Eddie snuck up on you. He made you feel your age, made you feel like just a girl who got a crush on a boy who was sweet to her despite herself and what started as you being sure he was just a friend, there was now a little ache in your heart that made you realize it definitely wasn’t the case. With Eddie you felt normal, just a girl, not your parents’ keeper, not the household emotional manager, just a girl who could smile at a boy and shrink instantly when he smiled back at you.

So, you’d survived a week without him, and all the emotions he’d managed to stir up in you and made it all the way to Valentine's Day, a horrendous day in a normal year, an absolute nightmare when your heart felt like it was in mourning. You’d still put on your pretty red dress and put some fresh flowers in your hair and did your makeup all pretty, only now it was only the cleaners and the guests and the little birds that stopped by at lunch that got to see it- not your guy, your Eddie. You had to delete his number just to stop yourself from talking to him, remind yourself to act casually whenever your phone chimed and you thought just maybe he was talking to you instead, had to keep a hand on your leg to stop it from jumping up and down. It got to the point where you were happy to be called to the basement to check on some sort of water leak, at least you wouldn’t have to think about him anymore.

It didn’t help, the road was there too long, you got to thinking about what he’d tell you if he was there, if he’d have been a little cuter on such a day, if he’d already found himself a cute girl to spend the day with instead, wondered if he’d seen your love day post on someone else’s phone.

“Careful,” you thought you’d reached peak desperation when you heard his voice, but your mind wasn’t actually playing tricks on you, because it was actually him who moved you out of harm’s way, one hand on your elbow pulling you from a bunch of paint cans, the other holding onto a single red rose. “What, I leave you alone for one week and you succumb to your terrible ways?” he didn’t make much of a show about handing you the flower, shrugged when your eyes met, and smiled when you sniffed it.

“Eddie,” you wanted to thank him actually, told him how glad you were to see him, wonder out loud if he missed you at all as much as you missed him. “What are you doing here?” his face fell, you didn’t mean for it to, but if someone saw him here, saw him with you, if it got back to your dad your next move would be right out of a job. “If my dad-“

“I know, I know,” he shrugged again, you didn’t like it, he wasn’t wearing his smile nearly as well as he used to, it wasn’t nearly as genuine. “Look, consider it a platonic, strictly professional visit.” Liar. He pulled something from his back pocket, pages folded in half, completely skewed, somehow a perfect representation of him. “I just had to drop off some paperwork for you,” when he opened it you nearly swallowed your tongue, it was one of your short stories, his handwriting in the margins, a bright yellow highlighter used to highlight some parts, you had no idea what to do next.

“Where on earth did you get that?” you gasped, very unladylike when you snapped it from his hand, it was somehow turned into a work of art now, his words and your own, you’d never even allowed anyone to read what you wrote let alone have someone react like this to it.

“I have my ways,” the smile snuck through, the good one, the one that made you gooey. “Listen, I figured if I can’t actually hear your voice I might as well get to hear the next best thing,” he tapped the top of the paper. “You’re really good, you know, don’t know why you’re hiding that from us common folk,” the compliment was completely sincere, but it made you snap back to reality.

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” you caught him off guard, made him waver in his usual ways because you’d never spoken to him like that, so few words but so somber, he’d never been the one to prompt them from you, he hated it. “I didn’t even think about how this could turn into such a big dramatic thing- you were just so easy to be around, to exist with, made me feel so human, so safe- I didn’t think we’d get into so much trouble for it.”

“I’m easy to be around?” he scoffed, leaned back against some stacks of tables, eyes ever dreamy as he looked you over. “Don’t think I’ve felt so comforted just being with someone ever before, warmth literally fills the air around you, if anyone should apologize for not being weary it should be me- should’ve known that being friends with you would be hard enough.”

“A bunch of idiots, we were,” you sighed, and you allowed yourself another moment of selfishness when you went to stand next to him, sighed again when your arms squeezed against each other, braced yourself before resting your head on his shoulder. “First guy I ever liked like this, and you just had to work for my dad and ruin it all.”

“Tell me about it, a guy falls for a girl like you, and she just has to be related to the jerk who signs his checks,” he lingered, paused before he let his hand brush against yours, sighed shakily when he rested his head on top of yours. “Shit, I really liked you, you know.”

“I really did like you too, never expected you’d break my heart before I even had the chance to give it to you,” he wasn’t sure how to reply to that, the thought of being given your heart was absolutely insane, a heart like that, so bruised yet so trusting of all he was, what kind of guy would be lucky enough to have the chance to hold onto it.

“Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart,” he breathed, and you were looking at the rose he’d given you as if you expected something of it, all the answers to your situation, a promise that this wasn’t the end of what could’ve been something so amazing if everything was just so completely different.

“Happy Valentine's Day, Eddie,” you sighed, placed the flower right back into his hand, and reminded yourself that you just had to make it to the bathroom before you’d allow yourself to cry- it represented him so well, so beautiful, so lovely, but you couldn’t let anyone see you with it, couldn’t hold onto it even if you wanted.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson angst #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson ff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic

77 notes · View notes

ifearzombies · 1 year

Text

The “CPR by Cupcakke” Incident W/Fem MC

Based off the rules MC has in the HoL post I made here: [x]

Not intended for minors. Very much adult content only. Reader discretion is advised.

You were working on cleaning the House of Lamentation today. And it was boring. So much dusting, sweeping, and mopping. Luckily you’d gotten the brothers to get Swiffer products from the human realm since they were much easier to use, but it was still taking awhile.

You get your D.D.D. out and decide to get a playlist going of some of your favorite jams and adding ‘CPR from Cupcakke’. You sang and danced as you cleaned to some of your songs. You were in the living room when ‘CPR’ came on and started moaning along with the songs.

Lucifer heard this from his office and first tried to get your attention but the music was too loud in your eardrums so he gave up and ran upstairs. He locked all the brothers’ doors hoping that they wouldn’t hear you since he was about to need you all to himself since the way you were moaning and swaying your hips was burned into his memory.

He was too late, though. Beel was in the kitchen on a voice call with all the brothers to discuss lunch options when he heard you in the living room. He moved the call to video to show everyone (he wanted everyone to enjoy the show like he was). But Beel’s resolve to hold the phone didn’t last and soon it was on the floor.

Before you could blink, Beel pinned you to the wall, growling as he kissed your neck, his strong hands holding you. “I need you,” he pants while removing your clothes, “I need you now!”

You gasp and moan at the attention. You briefly think to order him to stop before he bites your neck just right and you’re puddy in his hands. “Fuck... Beel...”

Upstairs was bedlam. The brothers realized they were locked in and who exactly did it and were furious. There was banging and shouting and soon Satan burst through his door with enough force it broke the wall. He then proceeded to break down the doors of all the other brothers in a hopeful bid that Lucifer would get you last- breaking the walls of their rooms as well.

Mammon was the first to get down; as Lucifer was trying to get the others to calm and not turn this into an orgy. Your first man saw you and instantly his avarice took over. He watched a few moments; Beel pinning your body with it’s torn clothes, mussed hair, kiss swollen lips, and your pussy already getting wet. He then went over and slid so he was between you and the wall. One hand went down to toy your clit while Beel sucked on your tit.

“Oh fuck! Ma-Mamm-” Your moan was cut off as Mammon turned your head to kiss you deeply; meanwhile Leviathan’s tail moved into your backside. The Otaku was standing to one side, stroking himself at the sight of you getting lavished on by his brothers.

“Oh... Seeing you like that... Please... Use a hand,” Levi begged, moving slightly closer. Without a thought you reach out and stroke his length.

“I have an idea,” Asmo cooed. He had finally gotten past Lucifer and was staring hungrily at everyone, “Beel... Lay down. We’ll put her on that thick cock... Levi. You should let her suck on your dick while I fuck that cute ass of hers... Mammon~.. I bet if we lay you down so your dick’s next to Beels, her pussy can fit both of yours.”

“I like that idea,” Mammon replied, “Beel. Pull off a minute... We’re gonna rock her world.”

Beel pulled away reluctantly before he laid down on the carpet. “Please... I need her so bad,” he begged as Mammon and Amso move you and line you up. Levi moved to hold you while Mammon went and laid opposite Beel so the two cocks were up against one another. Asmo held them together as he and Levi sank you down on the two members.

You let out a loud cry of bliss. You feel so full and your mind is already getting hazy. You hit your climax as Asmo enters you from behind, soaking Beel and Mammon’s cocks while the Avatar of Lust controls your rhythm.

“Come on, Levi... Look at that pretty face,” Asmo purred, “It’s begging for you to fuck it.”

Levi looked torn for a moment before putting his cock to your mouth. You latch on and ride Mammon, Beel, and Asmo as best you can while drowning in bliss. Your nerves were sparking alight with bliss, your very core rammed and being hit just right. Their hands were all over you. Massaging and pinching your teats, toying with your clit, smacking your ass, pulling your hair.

Belphie came down and saw the scene and sat down on the nearby coffee table. “Hey hey. You’re ignoring me,” he said, chastising you, “Give me a hand, toy.”

You reached out and started stroking Belphie and looked to the other side to see Satan and reached a hand out to him too. You wanted all of them. You wanted them all to use you and ruin you. Satan put his cock in your hand with a smile.

“Good Kitten,” Satan praised, “You look so sexy, letting us fuck you like this... You look amazing.”

You could barely hear him. All you knew was Asmo’s cock ramming your ass, Beel and Mammon’s thick lengths filling your cunt. The taste of Levi’s cock in your mouth. You screamed as you climaxed again, your pussy clenching around the lengths inside you.

Beel and Mammon both gasped and held your hips as they filled you. Your stomach swelled slightly from the amount of cum. The sight was too much for Levi and he filled your mouth with his ejaculate. You swallowed loudly and clean his cock with your tongue while your hips kept rocking against Beel, Mammon, and Asmo.

“PLEASE MORE PLEASE MORE FUCK YES FUCK YES OH FUCK YES USE ME PLEASE,” you begged as Levi pulled out of your mouth.

“Our turn,” Belphie chimed, “Beel. Mammon. Asmo. Pull out... I want to fuck her ass...”

“And I want that cute cunt,” Satan stated as he pulled you off his brothers, “I need it. I need to fill her cunt with my cum too. Right, Kitten? You want that, don’t you?”

“Ye-Ye-es,” you panted, trying to catch your breath. You didn’t have long as Satan sat on the couch and pulled you onto his lap. You’re quickly entered and roughly fucked by the avatar of wrath. He smacked your ass with each thrust before Belphie lined up and pushed into you as well.

“Move so I can fuck her mouth,” Lucifer ordered. He couldn’t control himself anymore. He wanted you too.

Satan ignored him a moment before he laid on the couch, your face over the edge. Belphie moved too and grabbed your breasts while he rammed your ass.

“You’re our sexy toy,” Belphie chuckled darkly while Lucifer roughly fucks your mouth. Your vision started to go white while Lucifer pulled your hair and forced you to deep throat him.

You could only keep your eyes closed, tears forming in them while your body went limp. Your mind was gone. Everything is white and fuzzy and muted. All you knew was that everything felt amazing. You felt yourself cum over and over again. Your stomach slightly ached with it being stretched from how much cum you were filled with.

You still can’t remember the two days after. Everything was a blur. The only thing you know is when you woke up two days later the house was a wreck. You’d been fucked all over the House of Lamentation and the evidence was obvious. You couldn’t stand. Your body was covered in bites and hickies.

You are still embarrassed that Barbatos found you, middle of the living room and covered in cum and unable to walk. The brothers completely passed out. No one had heard from anyone in the House of Lamentation for days and were worried.

From then on, Lucifer updated his house rules for you. No sexy songs played audibly as number one. And number 2? No singing and dancing. The other punishment was everyone had to clean and repair the house.

#obey me #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me om #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie

253 notes · View notes

toulousewayne · 5 months

Text

Batfamily Shenanigans:Head-canons Pt: 4

The Wayne family attends Gala all the time. Some have for years, but that doesn’t mean that all enjoy them. Bruce and Damian attend them purely for appearances, Dick is there to kept his siblings from burning down the building, Jason always sneaks in as different undercover identities, Tim has to go because he has to also keep up appearances but most of the time you will find him indirectly call the investors idiots. Duke and Steph are at the snack table, Cass sticks next to Babs at the table and they watch the chaos together. Alfred joins them sometimes.

It comes as to no shock that Tim has severe Narcolepsy, but Dick and Bruce have insomnia.

Damian watched Tim while he sleeps. No one knows when he started but he always tells the other it’s because Tim is prone to falling. Which is lie but no one ever stops him.

Stephanie is very skilled mechanic, sometimes when there’s down time she’s found repairing or working on of the bat bikes or the Batmobile.

Dick Grayson is color blind. It’s only when he comments on Stephanie’s brown sweater that Jason points out to him. Barbara and Bruce knew the whole time and just thought he was doing it to be funny, it comes as a shock to Dick though.

Duke and Cass go to the flee market every Sunday. The buy fresh produce and eggs for Alfred. Cass even thrifts a few clothing pieces.

Speaking of Clothes, no one has all their clothes anymore. Jason’s hoodies are always stole from the manor, his safehouses in the city and out of the country it doesn’t matter. They’ll usually end up in Cass, Tim or Steph’s closet. Dick’s T-shirts are public domain at this point because all his siblings have at least one of them. Barbara can never find her fuzzy socks until she visit the manor next and find them on Damian and Stephanie’s feet. Tim’s jewelry is always around Cass’ neck. Damian is the only safe because no one can fit his stuff but he does get Duke and Tim’s clothes they’ve outgrown.

Cass will sometimes spend time with Alfred in the cave repairing the suits. She’s very good at sewing.

Selina is lactose intolerant, Bruce finds this hilarious.

Duke took dance classes sense he was eight. He can dance the waltz, break dance, ballet, jig, salsa, and a few others.

Bruce allowed Tim create the design of the newest bat tech.

Alfred enjoys his tea with sugar and crème, Damian of course likes sugar and lemon. They have weekly tea parties in the sunroom with Alfred the cat and Titus.

Dick has the most mixed playlist of songs. So, whether he’s on a steal out with Bruce, driving Damian to soccer practice, or even just cleaning his apartment by himself he’s got something for everyone.

Barbara loves Amy Winehouse, she plays her record several times a day in the Clocktower.

While on the subject of music, Tim can sing and it was very embarrassing when his family found out. Tim was in his room singing with his headphones on but his door was open and he didn’t realize how loud he was. Dick and Steph came across him singing. Stephanie record it and sent it to the group. Tim was embraced by his family for his beautiful voice and they wanted to hear more, but poor Tim wanted the world to swallow him whole. Jason can play guitar and Dick can’t sing well but he can also play guitar in addition to the bass.

Damian is able to find his family with little tech involved. The OG Titans came back to the tower after helping Donna with a mission and Robin was perched in their living room. He gave Wally a heart attack. Tim was having a game night with Conner,Bart, and Cassie and the scream Bart unleashed when they found Damian in the kitchen starring at the pizza boxes on the counter and questioned Tim on lack of a proper diet.

Clark has nearly broken the sound barrier twice over not being able to hear Bruce’s heartbeat. Luckily both times Bruce had to slow his heart rate to be near death to escape sticky situations and both were ended due to a worried Krypton.

“I wanted Red Claw to think I was dead, I had to slow my heart rate to throw her off.”

“AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO SAY THAT TO ME, I WAS IN AUSTRALIA?”

Speaking of the Man of Steel, when Dick was freshly Robin and before Clark married Lois, the Boy Wonder tried to set up his father and Clark on several blind dates. Once he canceled a date of Bruce’s and rescheduled a business dinner for Clark and the two ended up on a romantic balcony date in Metropolis. They were both shocked and a blushing mess. It got worse when the waiter address the “Happy Couple” has was instructed from the reservation that Dick set.

Robin got an ear full the next morning from Bruce but to Dick it was worth it and even Alfred may have pulled a string or two.

Another time Bruce couldn’t watch Dick and Alfred was visiting London for the next week and Bruce had to Wayne Enterprises Event. He asked Clark if he could watch Dick for the night and of course he offered.

Not even five minutes after he left did Dick turn to Clark,”So, your dating my Father?”

Clark was as red as his cape and he tried to explain to Dick they are just friends. “Whatever you say Clark, but just curious would you take his last name or will he take yours? Because honestly I don’t see why you can’t use both—“

Clark cover his face as the young bird continued to show his support for his favorite ship.

“Are you also gonna adopt me too now?”

“Okay, time to see what time your Father’s coming back.” He sighed.

122 notes · View notes

her-power · 6 months

Text

The End of All Things (Part Two: e.m. x fem reader)

TRIGGER & C/W: 18++++ MDNI, Mama is serious!

Part One

Sweet! Semi-dom! Eddie, hurt/comfort, mostly fluff, death, talk of death, grief, descriptions of a deceased person, swearing, making out, smut, unprotected p in v (be smart, not dumb) oral/fingering outside (f receiving), shower sex, gentle choking, humor, more death talk, alcohol use, heavy drug use. This content has heavy subject material about death, dying and loss, please do not read if you are not comfortable with this. ESPECIALLY if you have recently experienced a loss and you are newly grieving. If you also feel something like this is gonna be therapeutic, do what you think feels right for you. I tried to be as accurate as possible, I put in my own experiences with funeral homes, etc

Summary: This follows the reader as they try to navigate this new love with their best friend Eddie Munson, while also navigating loss and what comes after. This takes place 5 years after S4. Reader & Eddie are in their mid twenties. The year is 1991. The song in this chapter is based off A Day to Remember song, so they get all the credit for it. I've decided to make this into 5 parts. I realized as I was writing this part there's been a theme each chapter that was completely unintentional and I'm really excited on how this is gonna go now. Enjoy!

Word Count: 13.3k

A/N: This is based off of a life changing event that happened to me when I was seventeen. This is for everyone who has suffered a loss of a loved one, a pet, a friend, a parent, a sibling. I see you and I love you. Thank you SO much for reading Part One. I honestly didn't think it was gonna get a lot of feedback like it has been, so I appreciate all of you beautiful people.

The late afternoon sun was bright and hot. The kids in the neighborhood were doing backflips in their pools, laughing and splashing each other as they welcome Summer with open arms. You sat in the living room with your father, and your uncle. All of you sat around the coffee table, and Eddie paces behind you, biting his thumbnail. Robin had come by the house earlier in the day, awkwardly and sweetly offering her condolences and almost having a full-blown happy tear crying fit when she realized you and Eddie were together.

It had been two days since your mother’s death, and the funeral home needed answers on what to do with your mother’s body.

“She wanted a viewing and then to be cremated after. Separate some of the ashes between us and bury her with your parents in Boston, at least, that’s what she wrote here.” Your father glances up from your mother’s document of her wishes that you didn’t even know she wrote and looks over at your Uncle Jimmy who only nodded. Jimmy hadn’t been back in Boston since they buried your grandparents, that was when you were still living there.

Your knee bobs anxiously and sweat pools on your palms. Your rub your palms on your dark floral print spaghetti strap dress and awkwardly adjust your shoelaces on your docs. It was almost a hundred degrees outside; the air conditioner was doing next to nothing to keep the inside of your house cool.

The thought of your mother laying on a cold table, naked, stiff, getting wiped down by a stranger, getting her make up done, and dressed into horrible clothing suddenly made your skin crawl.

“I want to do it.” You say out loud, and you feel their eyes on you.

“Do what?” Your father asks you. He was unshaven, dark circles were prominent under his eyes.

“I want to choose her outfit, dress her, clean her. Do her make up—"

“Absolutely not.” Your father interrupts you.

“Why?” Your eyes narrow at him, and you feel Eddie stiffen behind you. “She was my mother.”

“Y/N, there’s professional people for a reason for that. I’m not going to subject you to seeing your mother’s body in that condition. You need to remember her alive, not like that.”

“I don’t want some fucking stranger touching her. I’m doing it. They allow family to do it.” You raise your voice, and your father pinches the bridge of his nose.

Eddie says your name, putting his hand on your shoulder. You flinch away from him, glancing up into his eyes.

“You agree with him, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do. Sweetheart, you’re going to be seeing her body. Before the wake, the funeral. You shouldn’t see her like that.” He tells you sweetly and you roll your eyes, standing up from the couch.

“If you don’t tell them, I will.” You look at your father. “She was my mother. And I’ll be damned if someone makes her look like a dime store whore. Call them and tell them I’m doing it.”

Your father looks at you with sad eyes and nods once. Jimmy doesn’t say a word, tears fill his eyes, and he fixes his eyes on your mother's picture. Eddie stares at you, his hands gripping the back of couch and he shakes his head at you.

“What?” You snap. “You got something to say, say it.” You instantly felt guilty for snapping, but you were exhausted. Every night since her death you were having nightmares, and Eddie was there for you through it all. Only stopping home once to check on Wayne and work a few hours at the record store.

He stares at you, biting his bottom lip, eyes slightly narrowing, he sucks in air through his teeth. “I think you need to just stop and think for a minute.”

You scoff, turning on your heel and storming out the back porch. You find your dad’s pack of Marlboro cigarettes. You weren’t a smoker, maybe the occasional social smoker when having a little too much to drink, but at this moment, you needed a little buzz, and if nicotine was the way to go, you didn’t hold back. The smoke billows in your lungs, and you lean back against the deck railing. Eddie comes out soon after, clad in his ripped black jeans, an Iron Maiden t-shirt and dirty converse.

“This is crazy.” He tells you, his eyes wide with concern but no hint of judgement.

You push yourself off the railing and walk down the steps to the backyard, you weren’t in the mood to talk anymore.

“Stop. Just stop for a minute.” He steps in front of you, and you glare up at him.

He sees the cigarette in your hand, his eyebrows furrow, you could tell his mind was spinning. “Give me this!” He takes the butt of your hand, inhaling on it once and flicks it behind him.

“Spit it out, Eddie!” You were losing your patience.

“I want you to stop and think about this, please.” He places his hands on your upper arms, you tense under his touch and gaze. “This is a body. A dead body. Your mother’s body. You are going to be alone with her. The morticians completely disconnect when they dress up a body for a viewing; you’re her daughter. You can’t disconnect.”

You feel your anger creeping up your throat, the grief pulling at your heart, the hot tears in the corner of your eyes. “She’s mymother. Mine. You of all people should know why I’m doing this, but per usual, you’re fucking clueless!”

He lets his arms fall. “What are you talking about?”

“You have been hearing me scream myself awake for two nights. The nightmares are getting so bad, I feel like I’m walking into one even when I’m awake. I need to see her.” You say, gritting your teeth, and you fist the hem of his t-shirt. “This is the only way. Only way I know this isn’t some fucking dream I can wake up from. I’m doing this because I need to see that she’s really dead.”

He stares you, the brightness from the sun made his eyes look almost gold, you put your hand over your stomach, clenching your hand into the fabric of your dress and quickly wipe a tear away.

“Y/N, sweetheart, you’re gonna see her at the wake.” He says gently.

“Eddie, just stop trying to be Mr. Logical and be my best friend for ten fucking seconds. How many times have I’ve tried to talk you out of something stupid? Let’s see, there’s the time you jumped the school fence to rewire the speakers so everytime the principal would get on the intercom PORN would start playing through the speakers. Or the time you stole your neighbor's car so we could catch the last showing of A Nightmare on Elm Street 4 at the drive in, in Indianapolis because the stupid van was broken or the time—"

“You’re comparing the stupid shit I did to bathing your mother's body?!” His voice rises almost comedically. “Jesus H. Christ! What I do is STUPID. What you’re wanting to do is fucking INSANE.”

“Then I’m insane!” You yell, letting out a laugh, your hands slap against your thighs, and you shrug, a slight pain hits your chest. “Eddie, I need you to support me with this, even if you don’t like it, or if it’s weird or gross.”

His eyes dart to yours, wide and glassy. “You think I’m freaking out because I think it’s gross? I’m freaking out because it fucking breaks me everytime I hear you cry or scream or say her name and I’m left fucking speechless because I don’t know how to help you. I can see the pain in your eyes and hear it when you speak, and it’s only been two days. You have a lifetime of this, and I don’t want this to be the thing that makes you slip away from me.”

Your stomach does a back flip, and you feel even more guilty than you did before. You step closer to him, reaching your hand up, curling your hand through his hair.

“I’m not gonna slip away.”

“You don’t know that.” He says, tiredly. His right hand grips your waist and gently pulls you towards him. “You’re scaring me.”

“When have I ever let you down?” You say, giving him a small smile and he tilts his head at you, raising his eyebrows

You laugh, squeezing your eyes shut. “Don’t say the Iron Maiden show. I got the stomach bug, that wasn’t my fault.”

He laughs, smoothing down your hair. “Yeah, you were pretty gross that night.”

“You’re the only who decided to stay.” You poke him in the chest. “Sorry you were fed false information that girls don’t shit.”

He laughs, holding you closer to him, your back slightly arches as you look up at him. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then let me be with her. Let me do this for her.” You cup his cheek, poking his dimple. “I promise you that I will be okay.”

He lets out a low growl and you smirk. “I hate how fucking convincing you always are.” His hands squeeze your waist. “It’s annoying.”

“But, ya love me!” You give him a goofy grin and he scrunches up his nose.

“Yeaaaah…kind of regretting opening my mouth now.” He laughs when you slap his chest. “I’m kidding, you loser!”

You laugh, going up on your toes to kiss dimple. You gently pat his shoulder and nod towards the house. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” You take his hand and walk quietly back into your home.

You had ended up compromising with your father about the whole ordeal. He wanted the funeral home to embalm your mother first and place her undergarments on themselves. You reluctantly agreed and had said for you to be at the funeral home the day before to get her ready for the viewing. Which was on Tuesday, in three days. That gave you plenty of time to decide what outfit to choose for her. You promised yourself you would wait for tomorrow; tonight, Eddie was performing at the Hideout with Corroded Coffin. It had been a long time since the band had performed there. The shitty part of growing up was responsibilities, and you all had a lot of them. Eddie was the assistant manager at the record store. Saturdays were the biggest money-making day for them, but the store owner/manager Sully had promised he could take the day to practice and to perform because it would be another long while before the band got back together. Also, Sully had a soft spot for you, and when he had heard about what happened to your mother, he had sent two bouquets of beautiful flowers to your house, along with a check for $500, which you planned on giving back to him. You worked at the Barnes and Noble in the city, and since you had been there for five years, the owners were nice enough to give you two weeks off. Unpaid, but you were good with saving.

Gareth was the first one to greet you as soon as you walked into the door of the Hideout, he hugged you so tightly you thought your bones would break. You spot Eddie coming out the back door, he had changed into a torn up black v neck, exposing more of his chest tattoos. He was carrying an amp as you make your way towards the back, he spots you, smiles goofily at you and he struggles a little bit with the weight of it. You giggle, grabbing the other side of the amp and helping him place it gently on the ground.

“Looks like you’re losing your strength there, buddy.” You say with a wink. “Haven’t seen you struggle with an amp since 10th grade.”

He rolls his eyes and laughs. “You just caught me off guard, is all.” His eyes dilate, a familiar lust is in his gaze, and you blush. You were in the same outfit as earlier, just with added red lipstick.

“You knew I was coming early.” You say, tucking your hair behind your ear and he smiles, pulling you towards him by your hips.

“I know, I just stop breathing whenever you walk into a room.” His lips gently graze yours and you lean back slightly, looking up at him with a grin.

“You are so lame, you know that?” You laugh.

He scrunches his nose, and he laughs, pulling back from you. “Yeah, you know me too well. I suck at trying to be romantic. Give me a good D&D story line, and I’ll write the next best campaign, but romance…yuck.”

“Just watch 9 ½ weeks, you’ll learn a thing or two.” You wink at him.

His face falls and he laughs. “I didn’t know you saw that movie, you dirty, dirty pervert.”

You giggle, biting your lip, stepping away from the stage to grab a drink. “Have you seen Kim Basinger in that film? I’d let that woman take full advantage of my body and be strapped to the bed for the rest of my life.”

The familiar lust appears in his eyes again and he lets out a low growl. “You can’t say stuff like that to me before I go on stage.” His neck muscles clench as he swallows hard.

“Why not?” You blow him a kiss, stick out your tongue and throw up the devil horns. As you turn around, you feel the cool metal of his rings wrap around your wrist and he spins you around, crashing his lips to yours. He hungrily slips his tongue into your mouth; you moan quietly, and he holds your face in his hands.

“Five minutes, all I need is you and five minutes in the bathroom.” He says breathlessly.

You shake your head, smirking. “Sorry, Casanova. You’re gonna have to wait. Our friends are here.” You both glance at the door, seeing Steve and Robin walk through the doors; Eddie groans, resting his forehead against yours.

“I literally hate you.” He whispers to you, and you laugh. His hands grip at the fabric of your dress, squeezing your hip, causing your dress to rise up your thigh slightly.

“Whoaaaa, getting a little handsy there, eh Munson?” Steve says with a smirk and Eddie rolls his eyes. Steve hugs you tightly, whispering a sweet condolence in your ear, causing a dull ache in your tummy. “Heard you two finally admitted your feelings for each other. Heard it was all over the house too.”

Both you and Eddie’s eyes snap to Robin who is just smiling. “Robin! No one needs to know that.”

“I’m sorry it just slipped out! I was so happy that you were finally together, and I couldn’t control it. We literally had a bet how long it was gonna take and I won.”

“You guys are great friends.” Eddie says with an eye roll and a chuckle, kissing the side of your head, whispering. “You’re mine after the show.”

A blush creeps on your cheeks and you bring your lips to his ear. “Kim Basinger.”

He eyes you hungrily, biting his bottom lip. “Again, I hate you.”

He walks away from you with a wink, and you giggle. You sit down at the stools with Steve and Robin, you order yourself a beer. There was surprisingly a lot of patrons in the bar tonight you notice as you look around. It was a whole eclectic group of individuals. Metalheads, town drunks who kept to themselves, and high schoolers with fake IDs. You watch as Eddie places Sweetheart over his shoulder and adjust the microphone. He throws Sweetheart over his shoulder, and smiles when Steve whoops.

“Atmosphere hasn’t changed. It’s been a while since we’ve performed here. Thank you for being here, it is much appreciated.” His voice echoes through the microphone and you feel your stomach do a back flip. “We’re Corroded Coffin, and this is an original song.”

He flips Sweetheart to his chest, looks at you over his eyelashes and winks at you. He glances back at Gareth who nods and hits the snare and then the double bass pedal, Eddie strums down, the buzz of the electric vibrating, and the bass rumbles through the building. They play like that for a few breaks, and Eddie starts to sing. You feel the music through your veins, remember when they wrote this song in your room during a horrendous snowstorm and your mother had made them all hot chocolate.

You mouth along the words with Eddie: Violent delights, violent ends, end of heartache in this prison, not coming back, twisting the blade, blade of the dying, a dying wish, a dying wish, watching you fall, fall from grace, who’s gonna carry your casket? Who’s gonna carry your casket?

Gareth wails on the drums, the double bass thrumming through your ears as Eddie goes into an electric guitar breakdown, head banging and dancing around the stage. You felt more relaxed, every horrible moment and feelings from the last few days disappearing as the music wraps you up like a blanket.

Robin was cheering and whooping, moving her whole body to beat. Steve was trying his best to look like he wasn’t enjoying it, but his foot tapped along to the beat, and he drummed his hands along his thighs. You were vibing with the beat, your whole body moving, your hair whipping around as Eddie strummed his last cord, whipped around, met your eyes and that lust appeared again, only it was coming from you. He smirks at you and finishes the song, repeating the chorus, screaming the last line of words into the microphone and the song ends with a final drum solo.

Eddie couldn’t believe the reaction they got from some of the patrons. Most of you ended up getting free drinks, Steve had to peel Robin away from a much older woman who was ready to eat her up if she asked, and seconds later you were holding her hair back in the bathroom as she vomited and cried about the beautiful woman who looked like Phoebe Cates from Fast Times. You had to tie your own hair back, because she was making you laugh so hard your hair kept falling in the toilet, the stalls were so tiny. You felt bad for laughing, but you had a good buzz on, and Robin was one of the funniest people you knew. Eddie made Steve pull his car around back to make it easier to get Robin out safely. She could barely walk; Eddie had stood outside the door, watching the struggle as you tried to pull Robin out of the bathroom by dragging her under the arms. He could’ve helped sooner, but watching you struggle gave him so much joy his stomach hurt from laughing.

You groan, pulling her towards you, but you end up slipping on a wet spot and you both tumble to the ground. Robin’s face was awkwardly smushed against your chest and you glare up at Eddie from the floor, who was still laughing.

“Help me, asshole!” You yell at him, trying your best not to laugh.

“No, this is heaven for me.” Robin mutters, nuzzling her head in your chest. You pat her head and Eddie wipes the tears from his eyes.

“Okay, okay, come on, you big flirt.” Eddie says to Robin, squatting down and lifting her off you, throwing her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. You lift yourself up off the floor and wipe the dirt and grime off your dress. Your hair was already falling out of the hair tie, and you follow them out the back door where Steve was waiting with the car. You heard Robin gag; Eddie looks at you with panic in his eyes and Steve helps him set her down. You quickly look for something she could vomit in and find a dirty trash bin, kicking the lid off it as you hold back Robin’s hair once again.

“Oh, my little weirdo.” Steve says, gently rubbing her back as she vomited out pure liquid. Once she was done, and everything looked like it was out of her system, you and Eddie help her in the passenger seat of the car.

“I love you guys.” Robin says with a grin, patting Eddie’s face. “If you hurt her, I will murder you. Wait, did you smoke? Gross!”

“I love you too, Rob.” Eddie says, kissing the top of her head. “Get her home safe.” He says to Steve and Steve laughs.

“Wish me luck, I thought I was done being a babysitter.” He scoffs and laughs.

“Not with your best friend, buddddy!” Robin says, blowing drunk kisses at the two of you as Steve drives away. You wave and shake your head, your stomach hurting from laughing the rest of the night.

“Ten bucks she pukes in his car.” You say, nudging him.

“Twenty she pukes on his lap.” He holds out his hand to shake yours and you take it, agreeing to the bet.

“Deal.” You say with a chuckle.

You pull your hair out of the hair tie and let it fall, you scratch at your scalp to soothe the tightness from it. Eddie puts his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

“Wanna get out of here?” He asks, pressing his lips to your hair.

You sigh, leaning into him. “You okay to drive?”

He nods and laughs, guiding you towards the van that was hidden in the darkness of the back parking lot. “Made myself sober up when I saw how drunk Robin got. You good?”

“Yeah, just a buzz.” A loud, long yawn escapes you and you laugh. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

“Where do you wanna go, sleepyhead?” He chuckles, rustling your hair.

He unlocks the passenger side door for you, and you stare up at him, leaning against the door panel. You reach up, tucking a strand of curly hair behind his ear, run your thumb along his jaw as you cup his cheek. There was so much you wanted to tell him; how you didn’t believe you’d still be standing if he hadn’t been your best friend during this time; how you were so forever grateful for him and his big, beautiful heart. He smiles sweetly at you.

“Nowhere yet.” You say softly, pulling his face towards yours.

Your lips press against his, opening your mouth into a slow, passionate kiss. He places his palm on your lower back, pulling you against him. He tasted like beer, cigarettes, and a hint of mouthwash. He cups the side of your face, his fingers curling into your hair. A warmth settles in your tummy and between your legs, a loving ache that you’ve started to grow used to these last few days. You breathe heavily as you pull yourself away from his mouth, he stumbles into you a little, letting out a throaty chuckle, resting his forehead on your shoulder.

You kiss his neck, catching him by surprise as you graze your teeth near the tender spot under his ear, causing him to shudder and groan softly; you bring your mouth to his ear. “I thought I was yours after the show?”

A low growl rumbles in his throat and you feel his hold tighten around your waist as he lifts you up onto the passenger seat, you squeal with delight. You try to tuck your legs under the glove box, but he pulls them back towards him, smiling under the moonlight. Your dress had risen on your thighs a little, and you shudder as his hands move up your legs, and onto your inner thighs, tugging at seam of your underwear while he stood outside the door.

You realize just then what he planned on doing, your eyes widen. “No, Eddie, someone will see.”

“No, they won’t, trust me.” He grins at you, leaning up his chin to kiss your lips. His tongue opens your mouth, and you gasp when you feel him palm you over the fabric of your underwear. He still kisses you, moving your underwear to the side, his fingers lightly dancing against your clit.

Your head falls back automatically, lightly knocking against the gear shift and you quietly moan. He gazes up at you, giving you that smirk, resting his chin against the hills of your breasts.

“Louder.” He says, pulling the fabric of the top your dress down with his teeth, exposing one your breasts. You gasp again once you feel his tongue swirl around your nipple. He kisses and sucks, pulling away with a groan. “Louder.”

He shoves two fingers deep inside you and you moan, loud. He brings his mouth back to your breast and gently bites the skin around your nipple, moaning with you as he pulls away, slinking his way down your tummy, until he’s kneeling on the metal step. He pulls his fingers out of you, smiling and placing your left leg over his shoulder. He pushes your dress up, kneading and tugging at your meaty thighs, his hot breath hits your cunt.

“Get loud for me, baby.” He whispers sexily and you feel your pussy clench at his words.

A sound escapes you when you feel his tongue lick a long stripe from your hole to your clit, and he gently sucks. You pull his hair and groan, holding onto the head rest as another loud moan escapes you. He moans, burying his face into you, gripping your thighs hard, flicking his tongue out, you feel your toes curl in your boots. He lets out a groan and runs his finger down your clit and places two back inside you. You clench around his fingers, your back arches, and you get loud. You completely forget you were only a few feet away from the back exit of the Hideout, and you smile, realizing you didn’t care anymore. He looks up at you and you meet his eyes, he curls his fingers inside you and warmth crept up your belly. You let out a breath, and make yourself sit up more, wiggling your hips to get him to pull away from your clit. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow and you grab fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him up to your mouth until he’s climbing into the van, kissing you deeply. You crawl backwards in the driver side, pull him to where you were sitting and quickly unbutton his pants, pulling his hardened cock out of his zipper.

He opens his mouth to say something but you’re already on top of him, kissing him again and lowering yourself onto his cock and he groans in your mouth. He holds onto your hips as you slam your ass up and down, the two of you getting louder and louder with every movement, every roll of your hips.

“I’m yours now?” You whisper breathlessly to him, holding his face to look into his eyes, your mouth falls open in a moan.

“Yeah…unghh…yeah, fuck.” His eyes roll back in his head, a throaty groan escaping him, and you smile, moving your hips faster.

“Good.”

You stood in your bedroom that Monday, looking back and forth between two outfits you had picked out for your mother. The rain pitter-pattered on the roof, and you pull the hood of the sweatshirt you stole from Eddie over your head. The first outfit was a lavender button up maxi dress with sleeves, her favorite pair of Mary Jane shoes, a gold necklace with an emerald pendant. The second outfit was a dress she had worn on her twenty-five-year wedding anniversary, it was a soft blue, fitted at the waist and had floral print sewn on the chiffon skirt. Your father and uncle Jimmy were out looking for suits to wear. You didn’t sleep last night. You toss and turned, the house so eerily silent. You barely dreamt because you barely slept, and you were a little grateful for that.

Eddie wanted to come with you today, but you knew this was something you had to do alone. He had to work at the store today and knew he would get clumsy when he was distracted so you can only imagine that the store was in shambles, and he was probably letting out high pitched yells and screaming “Fuck!” every sentence. Which made you laugh thinking about, the never-ending chaos of that man was something he should be proud of.

Any shade of your purple was your mother’s favorite color, and you were happy with your decision when you drove silently to the funeral home and glance at her lavender dress hanging on the hook in the backseat. You decided on her sterling silver ruby pendant because you wanted the emerald one for yourself, selfishly. You tuck the pendant under your shirt and flick the radio on. James Taylor’s voice came through the speakers singing one of your favorites, and you lean back in your seat, reminiscing to yourself about the car rides like this with your mother. The rain let up a little, leaving little sprinkles of raindrops on your windshield. You had the copy of the death certificate you needed to give the funeral home in the back pocket of your jeans, you didn’t look at it yet; you weren’t sure if you were going to.

Foster & Sons Funeral Home peaks out on the corner of a little side street and you pull down the long driveway into the spacious parking lot. You suddenly felt very small, and your heart began pounding in your chest.

Eddie was right, this was insane.

You rest your head against the steering wheel, inhaling through your nose and out your mouth slowly. Your hands tremble and you look up, seeing one of the directors standing by the front door. The man looked like Lurch from the Addams Family and you swallow back a cackle of a laugh because why would anything be normal about this?

“Okay.” You tell yourself, breathing in deeply. “Okay. This is fine. This is fucking fine. She’s not even in there. It’s just a body. It’s just a body.”

You awkwardly wave to Lurch who doesn’t even move, take out your makeup bag and your mother’s dress out of the backseat. Walking up the stone steps you can already smell the overwhelming aromas of the flowers through the door, you walk past him to the lobby, looking to your right, seeing a whole line of wreaths, standing sprays and bouquet after bouquet through the double doors to the viewing room. You pause, not bringing yourself to go in there yet and look up at Lurch who waited patiently for you.

“Where do I go?” You ask him. “Oh.” You pull out the death certificate from your back pocket, and your hands shake as you hand it to him.

He takes it from you, giving you a soft smile. “Come with me.” Okay, Vincent Price, you think to yourself and smirk. You decided his new name was Vincent Lurch Price. What the fuck is wrong with my brain? Why are you making up names during this time? Why is he so tall? Is he wearing lifts? What the fuck am I doing here? I’ve lost it. I’m crazy. I’m fucking crazy.

You follow him down a long stretch of hallway and were honestly surprised how big the place was. The floor was a checkboard marble, and your converse scuffed as you hurried alongside Lurch. There’s a tiny elevator he takes you to, and you step in, your stomach drops when he hits the button, and you are both lowered to the basement.

It smelled like a haunted house.

He leads you down a small corridor, towards a few tiny offices and stops outside a blurred glass door that says Authorized Personnel Only. He stands by the door and glances down at you.

“She’s through there.”

“In there?” You point to the door. “I just go in?”

He nods.

“She is prepared for you; her modesty is protected. She has been embalmed so don’t be alarmed if the skin feels different. I will be down the hall if you need me.” He walks away from you, and you watch as his tall form disappears down the corridor. You glance back at the door and your hand hovers over the doorknob. Sighing, you push open the door.

The first thing you notice was how bright it was in there, you had to squint your eyes; it was so clean, and cold. It just looked like an empty basement to you, with drains, and metal tables. There was a separate door that was ajar, labeled Mortician. You slowly walk towards that door, your heart pounding in your chest. Opening the door with your foot you spot the table, and there she was, covered with a clean white sheet. You stand there for a few moments, staring at the sheet.

There’s a wooden table leaning against the wall to the right of her, you finally find your footing and rest the dress and the make-up bag carefully on the table. You rub the sweat off your palms on your jeans and let out a shaky breath.

You put your hands on either side of the corner of the sheet and pull it down, you squeeze your eyes shut. You open your eyes, and you look down. Your breathing picks up as you stare at her, you walk backwards, your lower back hits the table and you yelp quietly. The sheet only fell a little past her shoulders, they had fastened a type of bra around her chest. Her skin looked almost gray, and you had to swallow back the bile that stuck in your throat. There was a small incision near her left collarbone, and you caught a glimpse of the autopsy stitch peeking out from the top of the sheet. Her hair was already styled neatly in the way she always wore it; you step closer. Tears fall from your eyes as you look at her face. This was your mother, but it wasn’t. You reach your hand out, carefully running your fingers down her cheekbone and you snap your hand back. It felt like a statue, it was hard, cold. You close your eyes, breathing in through your nose and then out.

Moving closer, you reach out your hand, and smooth out her hair. Tears fall from your eyes on to the table next to where she lay. You imagined she was only sleeping, her beautiful face relaxed, a soft smile on her face. You take out your favorite picture of her and place it next to her head. The next hour felt like a blur as you quietly put the make up on her face. You had asked Lurch to assist you in dressing her, after your attempt to do it yourself you almost vomited at your feet because you didn’t realize how stiff her entire body would be. Once she was dressed, Lurch gave you a minute with her.

She looked more like herself, but you realize she didn’t look like she was sleeping. She looked dead. You silently chuckle to yourself, knowing that would be something she would say, and you felt slightly comforted by that. You wipe your tears away with your shirt sleeve, and lean down, leaving a soft kiss on her forehead. You look at her one last time, your legs feeling weighed down by cement blocks.

You didn’t want to leave her alone.

You feel a heavy hand on your shoulder, and you become startled, Lurch was giving you a sympathetic smile. “You will see her again tomorrow. She looks lovely.”

You glance up at him, your eyes filling with tears, and you nod. He leads you out of the room and you silently cry as you both make your way up to the lobby. Before you leave, he hands you the death certificate, informing you that they already had a copy, and you take it with shaky hands.

The walk to your car felt long, the sun was out, and the temperate had risen. You take off Eddie’s hoodie and tie it around your waist, your black tank top was sticking to you in all the wrong places. You plop in your car, put the keys in the ignition and crank the windows down. You throw the make-up bag in the backseat and feel the crinkle of the death certificate in your back pocket. Lifting yourself, you pull it from your pocket and study it with your hands. It was folded in threes, and you realize you’re holding reasons why your mother was dead.

You cave.

You open the paper, and your eyes immediately notice the typewriter print.

Time of death: 6:00pm

Cause of death: Natural

Findings: Pulmonary embolism, myocardial infarction, renal failure, congestive heart failure (ongoing)

Congestive heart failure? Since when?

A sound so deep and guttural escapes your lungs and you let out a scream. The paper falls to the floor and you slam your hand on the steering wheel, once, twice, three times.

You barely say a word to your father when you walked in. You had driven around for hours until it was almost dark. You muttered you were going for a walk when he asked what you were doing, and that Eddie had called a bunch of times looking for you. You grabbed some cash from your drawer and shove it in your back pocket. You head towards the front door and your father stops you.

“Please, honey. Tell me where you’re going.” He looks desperate and you felt like the biggest piece of shit in the world. He was grieving her too.

“I’m just going for a walk.” You sigh. “I’m going to a bar. I’m not gonna be late.”

“What happened at the funeral home?”

“Nothing happened.” You tell him, shaking your head. “Nothing happened. It was just a body.”

Stop trying to be brave, dumbass.

He stares at you. “Let Eddie go with you.”

“No.” You snap and then groan. “No, I’ll be okay. I just need to be alone.”

“Y/N…tomorrow is the funeral…please…please don’t be stupid.” His eyes look sad, and your heart breaks.

“I’m not!” You groan. “Daddy, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to yell. I’m not gonna be stupid, I promise.”

You open the door and step out, feeling his eyes on you as you walk down your driveway towards the end of your street. You hated lying to him, you were gonna be stupid, but you felt like you deserved to be stupid.

The walk to the bar only took twenty minutes, it was newer, recently opened within the last year. A lot more of the townies went there, some newly 21-year-olds, a far cry from what you were used to from the Hideout. It was a nice hole in the wall, two pool tables in back, a bar that was shaped like a half rectangle, and some high-top tables. You find a stool and sit on it, throwing a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and ask the bartender for a shot of bourbon and a beer. You wipe the dried tears off your face and knock back the bourbon. You realize you hadn’t eaten, but that never stopped you before.

Eddie was panicking when he hadn’t heard from you after coming back from the funeral home. He was pretty sure your father wanted to kill him after the third phone call, and he told him you were still not home. The phone rang loud in the trailer when Eddie walked up the steps from returning home from the record store, he tripped over the rug as he ran to pick up the receiver, getting his foot tangled around the guitar cord in the process. “Fucking christ!” He grumbles, placing the phone to his ear and untangling himself. Your father tells him that you took off on a walk and had said you were going to a bar, but didn’t say which one, and that he had a weird feeling. Eddie tells him he’s going to look for you and hangs up, rushing outside to his van. He knew you wouldn’t be at the Hideout; it would be too obvious. He speeds out of the trailer park, trying to remember which bars were in the area.

The cold water feels good against your face as you pat it dry from the napkin in the bathroom. You could feel the bourbon coursing through your blood stream and sigh. You wash your hands thoroughly, glancing in the mirror as the stall door opens behind you and a young beautiful blonde comes out, vigorously wiping at her nose. She had a glass mirror in her hand and places it on sink next to you, wiping at her face and washing her hands. You could see the residue of the white powder on the mirror, and your heart rate picks up a little. Was it anticipation? Fear? Adrenaline?

The blonde sees you looking at the mirror and smirks. “All you have to do is ask, pretty.”

“Oh…no, I wasn’t. I didn’t…no thank you.” You smile awkwardly and dry off your hands. The blonde shrugs, applying mascara on her lashes.

You walk towards the door, gripping the handle but you pause. Memories and thoughts scramble in your brain as you remember the last time you did a drug stronger than weed. You were nineteen and Steve was having a house party. You had drunkenly stumbled into the garage, seeing a few people you didn’t recognize, separating the cocaine between each other. You remember you didn’t even hesitate, you didn’t know why, but as soon as that dollar bill hit your nostril you fell in love. You felt like you could fly, you felt happy and excited all at once, you felt like nothing could harm you. That was the one and only time you fell in love with cocaine. You swore to yourself you would never do it again because of how much you loved it, how sometimes it felt like the missing piece within you whenever you felt down.

You turn to look at the blonde and she glances at you through the mirror, smiling. She nods to the stall behind her, and you follow her. She locks the door, the two of you sit knee to knee as she takes out the mirror, placing it on the lip of the toilet seat. You thought that was kind of gross, but after she sprinkled the powder on the mirror, she took a hardcover book from her purse and placed it in her lap, which made you feel a little bit better about your decision. She separated two lines and rolled up a dollar bill.

“Oh, here.” You tell her, handing her a ten-dollar bill.

“Save your money, you look like you need this.” She smiles at you, her face dips towards the mirror and she snorts. You watch as the powder disappears up the straw and her head falls back and she sighs, smiling.

She hands you the bill, and you take it, your hands shaking. But again, you didn’t hesitate. You cover one of your nostrils with your finger, and breathe in. The back of your throat immediately goes numb when you feel the postnasal drip down your throat, your nose stung a little. You sigh, wiping the excess from your nose and leaning your back against the stall door. Your lips tingle and your head feels a little heavy, but you smile.

Oh, how you smile.

Eddie ends up finding you in the bar, dancing to Joan Jett by the jukebox with the blonde girl. The two of you had already been to the bathroom three more times, and you were very high. He could see a difference in you, but he doesn’t say anything, he couldn’t yet. You willingly leave with him, telling the blonde girl, whose name you immediately forgot. As soon as you are outside the bar, he scowls at you.

“I’ve been calling you all fucking day.”

You glare up at him, tightening the sweatshirt around your waist, stumbling awkwardly. “I’ve been a little busy.”

“Getting high, I can see.” He was mad, and there wasn’t an ounce of you that felt bad about it.

“Oh fuck off, Eddie. I had fun. What’s wrong with having a little fun?”

He lets out a humorless chuckle. “Your mother’s funeral is tomorrow. Was it really that bad at the funeral home?”

“No!” You yell. “Fuck, I did cocaine. So what? At least I made sure it was before doing it, unlike someone who snorted a whole fucking line of heroin.” He abruptly stops walking.

“Don’t throw that back in my face! I don’t regret much but that is one of the things I fucking regret in my life and you know that!” Pain flashes in his eyes and you immediately hate yourself for bringing it up. He stops walking and stops at the door of his van. “Get in, you’re not going back home like this. You’re gonna sleep it off at my place.”

“Nah, I’m good.” You say through your teeth.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You are the biggest pain in the ass, get in the van.”

“No.” You cross your arms over your chest.

He stares at you, shaking his head. Before you could protest, he’s picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. You scream loud, and he opens the back of the van, dropping you down on the smelly, shag rug you always hated.

“Eddie!” You scream. “Son of a bitch!”

He shuts the back of the van and you forgot that it would lock from the outside. He gets in the driver side and peels away from the sidewalk. You awkwardly stumble towards his seat.

“This is kidnapping!” You say to him, awkwardly crawling into the passenger seat, and plopping down. You bump your head on the glove box, and he holds back a laugh.

“I’m not stopping you from jumping out the next light, sweetheart.” He looks over at you, smiling that stupid smile.

You cross your arms over your chest and lean back, grinding your teeth. You were coming down from the drugs. “Just take me home.”

“No, your dad has already been through enough, he doesn’t need to see his only daughter coming down from a drug binge before his wife’s funeral.” He takes a sharp turn into the trailer park, and you don’t answer him. Knowing he was right, but you weren’t about to admit that to him.

He parks in front of the trailer, and you feel his eyes on you, you both sit there in silence. “Why?” He finally asks you quietly.

“Because I wanted to feel something different.” You say, not meeting his eyes.

“Do you have any more on you?”

“Nope.” You tell him. “Kind of wish I did; it would make the rest of this fucking night tolerable.”

You see a flash of hurt in his eyes and he scoffs, pushing the door open with his shoulder and slamming it shut. You watch as he goes inside, the screen door shutting with a slam. You run your hands through your hair and bring your knees up to your chest. This is the second time tonight you’ve hurt his feelings, and you knew part of it was the drugs. For almost a week he has been with you, taking care of you, making you laugh, joking with you, making love to you and you return the favor by being an asshole.

You were so angry. Not just at yourself, but at everything. Angry that your mother was dead, angry that a simple surgery caused your mother’s apparently already weak heart to give out, angry that you had to figure out how to navigate this already crazy life without her. Angry that you hurt your best friend not once, but twice.

Angry. Fucking angry.

You step out of the van and step into his trailer. He was in the small kitchen with his shirt off, putting together sandwiches. It was very warm in his trailer. He didn’t look up when you walked in. You untie his hoodie and place it on the back of the chair. You watch as his back muscles clench when he reaches for two plates in the higher cabinets. You study him, the large tattoo on his back that started from his back right shoulder, all the way down to the curve of his hip. His jeans hung low at his waist; you could make out the small pieces of hair sticking out from his happy trail.

“Where’s Wayne?” You manage to ask quietly.

“Another overnight.” He mutters. “He won’t be back til late morning.” He puts a plate with the sandwich in front of you, it clanked loudly on the small table and the sound made you jump. He sits down on the couch, his boot clad feet rest against the coffee table and he turns on the television, still not making eye contact. You weren’t hungry, but it felt rude not to eat, you pick away at the crust from the bread.

“You don’t have to eat it; I was just being nice.” He mumbles. He was really upset with you, and the pain in your chest got bigger as you stare at his form.

“Eddie, I—”

“You can have my bed. It’s late, you have a big day tomorrow. I already called your dad.” He finally meets your eyes. There was nothing behind them except pure, unfiltered, hurt. Defeated, you nod, silently walking back to his room, closing the door quietly.

Eddie watches his door close with you disappearing and leans forward on his knees, placing the sandwich he didn’t know why he made on the coffee table, holding his hands to his mouth. Part of him knew it was the drugs making you act the way, and the other part knew it was you trying to manage your own emotions with the grief. It didn’t stop the hurt he felt in his chest though; certain moments from a long time ago were brought up that he wishes never resurfaced.

He wishes it never resurfaced because now he won’t stop thinking about it. He remembers thinking he was snorting was cocaine, but as soon as it went into his airways, he knew he had fucked up. He had vomited so hard afterwards, and wanted to kill whoever supplied the stuff. Then he started to feel it, really feel it. And everything else was over for him after that. He made the same promise to himself that you did, he would never touch the stuff again. But you broke that promise, and he doesn’t know what to do with that information.

You wake up the next morning with a groan, the sun was peeking through his broken blinds, and you squint. You had stripped down to your bra and underwear in the middle of the night, you had forgotten to turn on his air conditioner. You can hear the shower running and you sit up. Your head was pounding, not just from the hangover, but from the amount of cocaine you did the night before.

A pain hits your chest when you realize how awful you were to him last night. You shouldn’t have done the stupid drugs; you should’ve just walked away but you didn’t. Swinging your legs off his bed, you awkwardly stumble out of his room and head towards the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, and you could see the steam on the glass door of the shower, and a blur from where he stood. You push open the door, and you know he hears it because he pauses, but continues to wash his hair. You sit down to pee, not embarrassed by the sound of it. Being best friends with Eddie Munson for ten years, you would lose count the number of times he’s stood in the same bathroom with you as you did your business.

You step out of your underwear and unclasp your bra. You push the sliding door of the shower open and step in. The inside of the shower itself was spacious. You stare at his back, the dimples above his ass, and the curve of his hips. He doesn’t say a word to you when you step closer to him, you press your lips on the spot between his shoulder blades, his body slightly trembles at your touch, and you slink your arm around to his chest. His hand grips your forearm, holding it there.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper to him. The water cascades down you now, your hair soaking. He takes your hand and places his lips to your knuckles, turning around to face you. You look up at him, he cups your face.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ll live.” You say, twirling his wet curl in your fingers. “You are the last person I wanted to hurt, and I did that more than once last night. I’m an idiot, who thought they could handle something they couldn’t. And I took that out on you, I’m sorry.”

He smiles softly, his fingers running over your lips. “I take it I was right?”

“As always.” You say with an eye roll and a smirk.

“Are you okay?” He asks gently and chuckles. “That’s a dumb question.”

“No, it’s not.” You smirk and shrug. “I guess, right now I am. But I probably won’t be in a few hours. It was a lot, seeing her that way…finding out what caused…” You pause. “Eddie, how can you stand here and ask me if I’m okay and be so goddamn sweet to me with the way I acted last night? With what I brought up?”

He smiles at you, cupping your face with both his hands. “Because even though you’re the biggest pain in the ass I have ever met in my life, I still love you. Like a whole lot. You’re my best friend, above everything else, and you need to know that nothing you can say or do will make me leave you. I already told you; you’re stuck with me.”

“But Eddie, what I said about the heroin…”

“Look in my eyes.” He tells you and you listen. “Promise me this, okay?” You nod. “Promise me you will never touch the stuff again, and if you feel the urge to, come to me instead. And I’ll do the same.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling a dull ache in your chest. What you brought up last night not only brought up memories he wished to forget but brought up the way it made him feel. As if you couldn’t hate yourself more.

“I promise.” You tell him, opening your eyes. “I’m so sorry, Eddie.”

“Stop.” He tells you gently, rubbing his nose along your jaw. “Just kiss me.”

You do as you’re told, and your lips meet his in a sweet kiss. His hands caress your back, gently moving down to massage your ass. The water from the shower was steamy, and it felt good against your skin as you kissed him. You press your breasts into his chest to deepen the kiss, and he chuckles when you slip a little and fall into him.

“Turn around.” He tells you softly, and you do so. You can hear him lather soap into his hands and groan quietly when he starts to massage your shoulders. You moan quietly, your muscles relaxing under his touch. He moves closer to you, and he lathers more of your back. His hands move to your tummy, gently rubbing circles around your belly button, moving his hands up to massage under your breasts. Your nipples harden and your head falls back into his shoulder as he gently massages your breasts, his fingers gently moving over your nipples. The sensation of his lips on your neck, the sound of the shower and the intimacy of him touching you causes a wetness to pool in between your legs.

You can feel his cock pressing onto your ass and gasp when his hand travels over your mound and fingers your clit. His lips still lick and suck at the skin of your neck and your breathing picks up. He holds one of your breasts in his hands while the other plays with you gently. You reach behind you, taking his cock in your hands and start gently stroking him. His moan rumbles against your ear and he pinches your nipple. He rubs you faster, and you drape your other arm around his neck, moaning loud. His lips find your mouth, and he kisses you deeply and opens his mouth to massage your tongue with his. He pulls away from you, pushing you against the glass door with a thud and you smile in amazement at his forceful gesture. He goes down to his knees and he immediately sucks on your clit. You gasp, your back arches against the glass and he massage your ass, groaning as his buries his face into you, lapping you up.

He pulls away with a moan and looks up at you with a smile. “Fuck, you taste so good.”

He stands up again; kisses you hungrily and whips you around so you’re pressed up against the glass. The coolness from the glass makes your nipples harden once again and you bite your lip, feeling him move his fingers up and down on your opening. You feel him press up against you and the hardness of his cock as he brushes the tip of it against your ass and grinds into your folds.

“Oh…” You moan out and you feel him as he angles your ass up a little. His slides his cock into you and the bathroom echoes with both of your moans. He fucks you against the glass, each roll of his hips causing a sensation to flow from your belly all the way down to your toes. Your head leans back and you feel his hand cup around your throat, gently applying pressure and you cry out, pushing your ass against him as he slams into you, harder.

He applies more pressure to your throat, and you welcomed this new pleasure with open arms. This was a sensation you’ve never felt before, he wasn’t hurting you, or trying to cut off your air supply, but it was new and the way he was manhandling you was making you seconds away from exploding all over his cock. His mouth finds your ear and gently grazes his teeth.

“Ooh, someone likes it when I do this.” He coos in your ear, groaning with every thrust. Your cunt aches nicely at his words; still getting used to the fact that your best friend, who was now your boyfriend, your lover, who you were madly in love with, was fucking you like this.

He thrusts into your harder and you cry out when he pulls away. He turns off the shower and you turn to look at him, catching your breath, your cheeks flushed, both of you soaking from head to toe. He kisses you deeply, pulling away to lick your neck, suck and bite at your nipples.

“Get on my bed.” He tells you breathlessly. You still stare at him as you open the shower door, he helps you step out carefully and you still watch him with a smile, walking backwards towards his room. He shuts his door, spins you around and pushes you on your stomach, lifting your ass up to meet his hips. You grip his sheet as he slams his cock back inside you, the sounds that came from him were almost animalistic and so sexy, you moaned loudly with him. He holds your hips, and you arch your back, your hair was dripping onto his covers.

Tugging gently at your hair, he lifts you up so your back is against his. His mouth meets yours and you kiss passionately, his hand is at your throat again, pressing down, your cunt clenching as you get close to release. His other hand goes in between your legs and finds your clit, rubbing circles as he continues his rhythm.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans in your ear, his movements getting a little sloppy as you continue to clench around him.

“I’m gonna cum, Eddie.” You cry out and he moans in approval, his cock hitting your insides faster and faster until you scream out his name and you cum, hard. The sudden tightness around his cock causes him to groan out, exploding inside of you and he lets out a loud, throaty moan. He breathes loudly, still groaning out as you feel another orgasm rip through you. The sounds from both of you were so pornographic you didn’t know how to form words. You collapse onto the bed, your face burying in his pillow as you gasp and catch your breath. You smile lovingly as you turn to your back and let out a soft laugh. He swallows hard, gently laying on your chest and brings your nipple into his mouth and sucks gently. Your back arches at the sensitivity and another moan escapes you. His wet hair was draped over your chest, and you curl your fingers in it.

“That was…” you laugh. “That was different.”

He lifts his face to look at you, gently grazing his fingers over your throat. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, nope.” A laugh escapes you. “Never thought in a million years I’d be choked out by my best friend, and it feel good.”

He blushes, hiding his face in your chest. You rub his back gently, and sigh. You both lay there quietly for a few moments. Realizing what today was, your stomach does a back flip, and you tighten his hold on him.

“I’m scared.” You whisper.

He gently rubs your belly. “I know.”

“You’ll stay with me? The whole time?”

He lifts his face up to meet your eyes, running his hand over your face. “I won’t leave your side. I promise.” He leans up, kissing your lips sweetly, gently and you sigh, holding him closer as you stare at the ceiling.

Eddie had driven you back home to get ready, he promised he would be back as soon as he was dressed and meet you back at your house. You had hugged your father so tightly as soon as you walked in, taking him by surprise. You stood like that hugging him for minutes and he embraced you lovingly, you apologized for last night. You left out the part of you finding out that your mother had congestive heart failure, you didn’t feel right bringing up an ailment your mother had for years, unsure if he knew or not.

The funeral itself started at 4:00pm, but they wanted the family to come an hour and half early to take some time with her. Since your mother was being cremated afterwards, the burial would be private, and the plan was for your uncle to go to Boston to place some of her ashes in the soil of your grandparents’ grave. Your father had asked if you wanted to do the eulogy, you reluctantly agreed but had no idea what you wanted to say or could say. You stood in your room in front of your full-length mirror. You stood there in black tights that went all the way up your waist, and a black lacey bra. For someone who had an entire wardrobe full of dark clothes, especially black, you couldn’t decide on a top.

You end up finding a fitted black dress with short sleeves, the neckline was a little low, but you placed your mother’s emerald necklace over your head to give it a pop of color and something to look at besides the hills of your breasts. Your doc martens were your mother’s favorite shoes on you, you would catch her wearing them from time to time, so you step into those.

You had accentuated the waves in your hair with a little hairspray, placed a little mascara on your lashes and didn’t bother with lipstick. There’s a knock at your front door and you glance at the clock, it was 2:30pm, it must’ve been Eddie. Your father had let him in, and you could hear them patting each other on the back’s after giving each other a hug. You hear his footfalls come into room and you glance at him in the mirror leaning against your door frame. Your breath hitches at the sight of him.

He was wearing a black dress shirt, the top three buttons undone, exposing some of his chest, tucked into his jeans. His silver chain necklace with his guitar pick was peeking out. He wore a black blazer which was a little fitted and you were wondering if he had borrowed it from Wayne. His black jeans were surprisingly not ripped, and he wore pointed toe boots. You couldn’t tell if you were staring at Eddie Van Halen or Eddie Munson. Either way, he looked so handsome. You smile at him in the mirror, and he smiles back, he walks towards you, wrapping his arms around your middle and you lean back into him.

“You ready?” He whispers, kissing your hair. “You look beautiful.”

“Are we supposed to look beautiful?” You chuckle softly and sigh. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

You turn to him, and he holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his brown eyes kind as he stares into yours. “If you need a minute, you tell me. We will take a break, get some fresh air.”

You nod, staring up at him, cupping his cheek. “What?” He asks you with a smile.

“You’re just…you’re something else, Eddie Munson.”

He smiles. “You just bring out my good side, I’m a huge asshole. You know this.”

You laugh, leaning up on your toes, kissing him softly. “Okay, let’s go.” You take his hand and the two of you walk out of his room, your stomach was in knots, your palms began to sweat, and you couldn’t swallow. This was it. This was the moment you dreaded for 5 days.

Your dad had driven with your Uncle Jimmy to the funeral home, you followed behind in your car with Eddie. When you pull into the parking lot, you notice the orange cones, and the directors standing by the doors. You both step out of the car and he takes his sunglasses off of his eyes.

“Lurch?” Eddie says out loud, looking at the tall man by the doors, you mutter a curse, covering his mouth with your hand, bringing his head to your shoulder and you cackle loudly. He looks up at you very confused and you pull your hand away.

“You have the loudest mouth, shut up. I’ll tell you later.” You whisper to him, holding in your laughter.

“Yeah but…look at him!”

“Shut up, Eddie!” You laugh and you follow your father and uncle up the stone steps. Lurch nods at the two of you and you still suppress your laughter as you walk into the lobby.

There’s a guest book to sign with prayer cards, the Irish Blessing was printed on the front with her name, birth and death date. Eddie takes them and puts them in his pocket, signing his name. You both follow your father and uncle’s tall forms into the viewing room, and you immediately stop breathing as you see the beautiful mahogany of her casket. There was a soft melody of piano music playing through the speakers.

Your father walks towards her, and before you had a second to react, his legs are buckling. Eddie rushes to him with Jimmy on one side, cradling him so he doesn’t fall. Your hand goes to your mouth as you watch the scene unfold, you stood frozen, and the sound of your father’s cries sent daggers into your heart. You feel your feet move before the rest of your body and rush towards him, you rest your palm on his back and kneel in front of him.

“I’ll go with you, Daddy. Hold on to me, okay?” He looks up at you, tears streaming down his face, and he nods. Eddie and Jimmy help him to his feet, and you link your arm in his. They stood behind, watching as you two walk slowly to her. More sobs escape your father as you stand in front of her, your eyes fill with tears and you turn your head away, resting it against father’s arm, squeezing your eyes shut. You could hear Jimmy sniffling behind you, you couldn’t look at him either.

“Oh, my girl.” He cries softly, kneeling on the prayer bench. As you finally open your eyes to look at your mother, you realize that you may have completely disassociated while doing her make up. She looked stunning, and you thought the whole time you were doing her make up, she looked dead, not asleep. But she really looked asleep. Your father meets your eyes and kisses the top of your hand.

“She looks like her.” He says, smiling softly. “Thank you.”

You nod, gently helping him up to move away from the casket. You sit your father down on one of the cushioned chairs and hand him a cup of water from the pitcher on the table. You sit next to him, holding his hand as you watch Jimmy kneels in front of your mother. His shoulders shook with sobs, and he gently smooths out her hair, he stands up from the bench, walking down the hallway to wipe his tears, pacing.

Eddie didn’t kneel, he stood there with his hands resting on his thighs. He stares at her, biting his bottom lip and you could see his eyes fill with tears. He goes to touch her hand but stops himself, a soft groan escapes him, and he shakes his head, turning away, pressing his palms to his eyes, walking away down the aisle of chairs. You feel your father nudge you to go to him and you stand up, walking towards him. His back is to you, his palms are still pressed against his eyes, and you place your hand on his lower back. He turns to you, so many tears fell from his eyes, and you pull him into you for a hug. He holds onto your waist tightly, quietly whimpering into your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that was.” He sounded so pained; your heart broke.

“You loved her, that’s what that was.” You tell him softly and he lifts his head from your shoulder. You wipe his tears away from his cheek and he sighs. “If you want to go back, I’ll go with you.”

He shakes his head and smiles at you. “No, it’s alright. There are a few things I need to say to her.” He kisses your lips gently and you watch him walk back towards your mother.

He kneels and rests his chin on his hands as he looks at her, more tears fell from his eyes, and he didn’t seem to care. He knelt there for a few moments, and you watch as he snaps his necklace from his neck, placing it gently on her hands, the guitar pick resting against her ring finger. Your bottom lip trembles at the intimate moment, and he gently kisses the top of your mother’s head, lingering there for a moment before pulling away. You feel yourself falling more in love with him at that exact moment.

He walks towards your father, embracing him in a bear hug. Your father squeezes his shoulder, the two of them having a silent conversation and Eddie wipes his eyes, walking back towards you. He slinks his arm around your waist and pulls you to him. You sigh, glancing at the clock. More people would be showing up.

The funeral home was full of people you either hadn’t seen in so many years or had never met in your life. A lot of them had wonderful things to say to about your mother and some had even brough pictures which you hadn’t seen before. A lot of them had traveled from Boston. You almost broke down when Hopper walked in, he hugged you close to his chest and patted your head.

“Don’t forget to take a breather, kid, okay?” He says gently and you nod.

You had stepped outside for a moment, placing your hand on your knees to breathe in deep. It was so overwhelming in there and so stuffy. You felt like you were suffocating; you didn’t even tell Eddie you went outside, but he had found you anyway. Gently rubbing your back as you try to settle your nerves, he whispers that Steve and Robin were there. Robin was already crying when she hugged you, she had a glass dish in her hands.

“I forgot to give this back to your mom when she made that casserole for me. I’m sorry, I kept wanting to give it back, but I never thought…I didn’t…” She was sputtering and you gently place your hand over hers.

“Keep it.” You smile at her, and she nods, Steve leads her inside and Eddie looks you over.

“It’s almost over.” He tells you gently.

“I know.” You sigh. “I know.”

Your father peeks his head out the doorway. “Honey? It’s time for the eulogy.”

You stop breathing, you had forgotten.

Eddie sees you tense and keeps a watchful eye on you as you walk silently back into the funeral home. There was a small podium in front of her casket, and you look up at Eddie with pleading eyes, he walks with you to the front, keeping a short distance between you two as you stood there, looking at all the solemn faces of your mother’s loved ones.

“Um, thank you all for being here…” Your voice shakes. “I didn’t write anything or have anything prepared.” You inhale deeply, looking behind you at your mother’s form. You stare at her face; your bottom lip quivers and you inhale a shaky breath. You turn back towards them. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this…I’m sorry.”

Eddie squeezes your hand as you go towards him, you see him stare at your mother and he holds your face in his hands, looking in your eyes, asking you a silent question. You nod and he pulls away from you. Everyone’s eyes fix on him, and you lean your shoulder against your father.

Eddie lets out a breath and begins to speak. “Hi, some of you know me, some of you don’t. My name is Eddie, Eddie Munson. I have known this family for ten years, and I guess, I guess I have a lot to say about this special woman.” He looks over at you and smiles. “I never knew what it felt like to have a mother, I mean, if I did, I was really little, and those memories have completely faded. That all changed when I met this woman. Without questions, without judgement, she took me in as her own. It took me some time to get used to, I was used to being loved by the ones who cared about me, but when it was that motherly love, I had no idea how to deal with it. There were times I think I tried to push her away, especially when I got in trouble, but she forced her way through my walls and held on tight and I didn’t…” His voice shakes, tears pool in his eyes. “I didn’t let go. I didn’t want to. She was a force to be reckon with, right Hop?”

“She terrified me.” Hopper says from his seat, and everyone laughs.

Eddie chuckles, glancing over at you. “She protected her own like a lioness. Her beautiful daughter is living proof of the pure heart and soul of that woman. It would take hours for me to express how grateful I am for this family, for her as mother I always needed. I loved her, and it hurts that I can’t tell her that.” He looks behind him at her face, a tear falls freely from his eye. “But for now, I can tell you all what you already know. You will never find another one like her, a woman that embraces a freak like me into her arms, a woman that cooks a meal for an entire army. A woman who sends some of the toughest dudes running just by being in her line of sight. A woman who loved and loved hard. She wouldn’t want us sad, let’s be real she’s probably up there pointing and laughing at us, calling us babies.” That got another laugh out of them. “That’s what she wants us to do. Love. Love hard, tell your loved ones you love them. Follow her example and honor her everyday if you can.”

Tears are streaming down everyone’s faces, especially you. You embrace Eddie in a tight embrace, your voice muffled in his chest, and you tell him your thanks over and over.

Once everyone started to file out, you overhear your father talking to your uncle in the lobby.

“I can’t do it; I physically cannot bring myself to do it. She was my baby sister, the thought of her…”

“It’s okay, Jim. It’s okay. We can figure something out.” Your father tells him gently.

You walk closer to them. “What’s going on?”

“We have a change of plans for her ashes. It’s not fair to put it all on Jimmy. We can brainstorm and figure out a better plan.”

“Well, I can do it.”

Your father looks at you. “Really? You’d go to Boston?”

“Yeah, you know how much I loved it there. It would be nice to go back. I have enough money saved to get a hotel room for a few days.”

“Don’t worry about the money, I’ll take care of the hotel. I’d feel better if someone went with you.”

Eddie walks into the room, his eyes still a little puffy and he gently grips your waist.

“Wanna go to Boston?” You ask him.

“Right now?” He asks you, cocking his eyebrows.

“No, dumbass. In a few days. With my mom.” You stifle a laugh at his face which held pure confusion. “Her ashes?”

“Oh! Oh yeah, yeah I’ll go. Road trip?”

You nod and look up at your dad who smiles tightly, and you chuckle at his expression. “My daughter and Eddie Munson in a hotel room. Alone. Together. For a few days. Pretty sure God has it out for me.”

He claps Eddie on the shoulder, heading back into the viewing room to say his final goodbyes to his wife. Jimmy hugs you tightly, thanking you for doing something he couldn’t and had left the funeral home, he had already said goodbye to your mother.

You walk back into the room and your father gives you a minute alone. Eddie stands off to the side watching you. You kneel, gently smoothing out her hair, caressing her cheek gently.

“You know you were right about everything.” You tell her quietly, glancing over your shoulder at Eddie. “About me and Eddie. You always had that sixth sense about you.” You place your hands over hers and smile.

“I’m gonna marry him one day. I’m gonna have his babies and we’ll have a cute little house with a dog. But you already knew that.”

You wipe a tear away and lean forward, kissing her cheek softly. “I’ll see you in Boston, mama.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x smut #eddie munson x fluff #Eddie Munson x hurt comfort

68 notes · View notes