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atomicami · 6 months

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comfort crowd

boyfriend’s mom!abby anderson x fem!reader

- summary: you’ve been dating your boyfriend for 2 years now, until all of a sudden he starts to act differently around you. one night, you come over to his place to see him, only to discover that he’s out cheating on you with another girl. as a result, you receive comfort from the person you’d least expect—his mother.

- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, older/milf!abby, age gap (reader is 20, abby is 38), reader is in college, owen (he is mentioned a lot but does not make an appearance), mentions of past teen pregnancy, abby and owen are divorced, infidelity/cheating, reader has her first intimate experience with a woman, kinda softdom!abby, oral & fingering (r!receiving), squirting, scissoring, slight edging, and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything else

- author’s note: it’s finally here, sorry this one took me so long…i’ve been a bit nervous to do this pairing but it did win the poll i posted a while back so yeah…i also have to say that this fic took a lot of work and effort for me to write out, so i really hope y’all enjoy it 🤍

You were wishing that your suspicions about your boyfriend weren’t true.

A little over two years ago was when you first met Andrew Anderson-Moore. It was during your senior year of high school and your family had just moved to the city as a result of a job offer that your father had received. Having to start over at a new school was scary for you, but meeting Andrew made that experience a little better.

The two of you connected instantly, and it didn’t take long for you both to start dating and make it official. On your first month anniversary of being together, you two decided to introduce each other to your families. You brought Andrew to meet both of your parents first, and he brought you to meet his dad first before meeting his mom a week later.

Now you’re in your third year of college, still maintaining your loyalty towards him, and you still keep in touch with his parents as well, preferably with his mom, Abigail.

You enjoyed being with Abigail just as much as you did with your boyfriend. She was always so attentive and caring towards you, she treated you as if you were her own. Ever since Andrew had introduced you to her, you’d always make sure to be formal towards her no matter what, even though she could truly care less about it.

“Hi, Ms. Anderson, it’s nice to meet you,” you tell her kindly, removing yourself from your boyfriend’s embrace to shake her hand.

She flashes a smile back at you as she shakes your hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, sweetheart, there’s no need to be so formal though,” she tells you.

“Oh I’m sorry, Abigail—“

“Abby.” She corrects you. “Abby is just fine.”

You simply nod at her in response.

“Alright then, Abby.”

After dinner had passed that day, and you were bringing all the dishes to the sink to wash them, you ended up overhearing Abby say this to her son:

“Make sure you treat her well, Andrew. She’s a sweet girl, definitely a keeper.”

Even though you figured that Abby would be nothing more to you than your boyfriend’s mother, the way she said that to Andrew made you feel unusual inside…But you figured that you were feeling that way simply because it was just a genuine compliment from her.…right?

Since that day, you’ve been close with Abby since then, and Andrew has managed to treat you like royalty.

That is…until a couple of weeks ago when he arrived back from a guy’s trip with his father. You began to take note of the suspicious behavior he’s been having towards you lately. The way he’d hide his phone when he’s around you, how he’d avoid eye contact with you when you ask him about things, and how he’d leave every so often without telling you. It eventually got to the point where you needed to go and address it to him.

And that’s how you got here right now: sitting in your car in the driveway of his mom’s house on a gloomy Saturday night.

You muster up the courage to grab your bag and exit your car before locking it and walking the few steps over to the front door. After taking a deep breath, you step forward and knock on the door. Hoping it would be him answering the door, you’re quick to see Abby answer it instead. “Hey sweetheart,” she says to you. “What are you doing here so late?”

You look up to see Abby looking down at you with a soft smile. She was still in her scrubs with her white coat in her other hand, and with a bunch of little blonde flyaways sticking out of her hair. It looked like she had just gotten back from her shift at the hospital.

“Oh, Ms. Anderson…I was wondering if Andrew was here, by any chance? I need to talk to him about something.” you ask her, praying the answer would be what you’d expect it to be.

Abby let out a sigh and shook her head. “I’m afraid not, sweetheart…Owen dropped him off this morning and he left the house right before I was about to leave for work. I honestly thought he’d be spending the day with you today.”

Although Andrew was an adult now, he still managed to make visits between his mom and dad. Abby and Owen have been divorced for years now, but at the very beginning, they were once dating as high school sweethearts. It wasn’t until Abby had gotten pregnant from him during her senior year, and as a result, he’d figured the best and most traditional way was for them to get married after graduation.

Things were good for the couple so far…until one day, shortly after Andrew’s first birthday, Abby had gotten home early from school only to find her husband in bed with another woman, which instantly led to them getting divorced with joint custody of their son. She felt like she should’ve been hurt and heartbroken about that, but for some reason she just…didn’t. It was almost as if she was falling out of love with Owen anyway, and his cheating was just the sign for her to divorce him.

Even though Abby was the victim in that situation, she didn’t want to tell Andrew about it so as to not damage his relationship with his father. Instead, she made sure to raise him to be a loyal, trustworthy man, just so he wouldn’t end up turning out to be just like his father.

She raised him to make sure that he wouldn’t end up hurting you.

You let out a sigh, looking over at your car before back at her. “Alright, um, I’ll just head out, then…”

As you were about to leave, you felt Abby’s hand gently grab your shoulder, causing you to turn around. “Hold on, um…would you like to come inside? I can’t have you driving around in this awful weather, maybe you can just wait for him in the meantime, yeah?”

You hesitated for a moment, but to be fair, Abby did have a point. It’s been storming so much these days, and based on the few drops you felt land on your shoulder, it seemed like it was going to happen again tonight.

You give Abby a nod, accepting her offer. She steps over to the side, clearing the way for you to enter inside before closing the door behind you.

“Have a seat, sweetheart,” Abby offers, gesturing you towards her couch. “I’m gonna take a quick shower and order some takeout if you’d like? I uh, don’t plan on doing anything tonight…” she continues, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

You nod back at her and set your bag down on the couch before sitting yourself down. “That’s alright with me…Thanks again, Ms. Anderson.”

“Abby, sweetheart,” she replies, correcting you.

“Right, thank you, Abby.”

You watch as she turns around and heads upstairs to her room. Once the shower turns on, you can’t help but get a feeling of deja vu passing through you, remembering that certain day like it was yesterday.

Now, the thought of being with a woman never really crossed your mind, but for some reason, you couldn’t help but find Abby to be so…attractive. You assumed it was just a silly little crush and set it aside because there was no way that Abby would see you as anything more than her son’s girlfriend.

But it wasn’t until about a month ago, that you decided to spend the night at Andrew’s place. It was around 1 am, and you had left Andrew’s bedroom to use the bathroom. As you were just about to go in, you couldn’t help but peek into Abby’s room as you were passing by.

The door of her bathroom was creaked open, the shower was currently running, and while Abby was undressing herself from her scrubs, you couldn’t help but keep your eyes fixed on her figure. Her back, her arms, her hands…you were feeling so attracted to her, to where a wave of arousal was hitting you instantly. You were getting so turned on by her in the way that you should be feeling towards her son instead.

Your gaze kept lingering on her, but once you noticed her blue eyes locking with yours, you quickly rushed back to Andrew’s room. This led you to have to wake up your boyfriend just to have sex with him, all with the sinful thoughts of his mother on your mind.

And even though neither you nor Abby brought up that incident the next morning, she had a strong feeling that those sounds that you were making that night were meant for her.

The sound of thunder startles you. You look out the window to see that it has already begun pouring outside. You were definitely going to be here for a while now, but you didn’t mind it. Abby always provided good company to you anyway.

You watch as the rain keeps pattering down, hitting the glass of the window. Your hand feels the vibration of your phone followed by a chime, causing you to look down at your screen and check the notification you just received.

Abby shuts off the water in the shower once she’s finished, making sure to keep it quick so as to not leave you waiting for so long. She then quickly changed into a shirt and sweatpants before shutting off the lights and leaving her bedroom.

As Abby began to head downstairs, she could hear a faint sniffling sound coming from the living room. It sounded like you were crying. This led to her rushing even quicker now to the living room, walking in to see you quietly crying, your dimly lit phone in one hand while your face was buried in the other, collecting all of your tears.

Concerned, she slowly began to approach you. “Hey, hey sweetheart…what’s the matter?” she asks calmly, sitting down next to you on the couch and placing a hand on your shoulder.

All you could do was shake your head in response. You were so choked up on your tears that you couldn’t even speak. You felt Abby get closer to you, trying to take a look at what was on your phone. You quickly hid it away from her, but it was too late. She had already caught a glimpse of the familiar figure that was on the screen.

Her hand makes contact with yours, trying to get ahold of your phone. “Let me see,” she tells you in a commanding, yet gentle tone.

You couldn’t help but give in, slowly loosening your grip on your phone, now letting her have it in her possession. Once the phone was in her hands she took a closer look at the screen, eyes widening in shock and disbelief. She couldn't believe what was seeing right now.

It was a picture of Andrew, her son, out at a party, with his lips attached to another girl’s, that clearly wasn’t his girlfriend.

Abby was just as shocked as you were. But she wasn’t just shocked. She was enraged, enraged at the fact that her own son had gone behind your back and hurt you like this. You were the sweetest, kindest soul she’d ever met, how could he, or anyone manage to break your heart with no remorse whatsoever?

Along with that, Abby couldn’t help but feel disappointed either. She spent the past twenty years raising her son to not be a cheat like his father was. But at that moment, after seeing that photo and the state you are in right now, she felt like she failed as a mother.

At that moment, she wanted to make things right.

Not only that…she wanted to make you forget about her son and make up for how he treated you.

Abby sets your phone down and reaches for her own that was on the coffee table. You try to stop her from doing so, knowing that she is going to call her son right now. “I-I tried calling h-him,” you choked out, grabbing at her forearms. “H-He didn’t respond.”

Abby gently shakes your hands away from her arms and grabs her phone before quickly unlocking it. “He’ll respond to me, sweetheart, trust me,” she tells you sternly, getting up from the couch and making her way back upstairs to her room before closing the door.

She was definitely right about that. It didn’t take long for you to hear the muffled shouting coming out of Abby’s room. Even through the thick walls of her house, you could hear her clear as day:

“Andrew, what the hell were you thinking?! Your girlfriend is here in my house, worried sick about you and you’re at a fucking party cheating on her with another girl?! I didn’t raise you to be like this. If you wanna keep this act up, then go stay with your father, Andrew. I don’t want you coming back here until I say otherwise.”

Despite that Abby was in your defense about this, you couldn’t help but feel so overwhelmed. You honestly wished you hadn’t come here in the first place. Even though it was storming harshly outside, you felt like the best thing was to just go home. This was the last place you wanted to be at right now.

Once Abby had finished talking on the phone, she then went back downstairs to the living room, only to see you heading towards the front door to leave. She quickly stops you before your hand grabs the doorknob. “Hey, where are you going? I told you it’s too dangerous for you to drive out there right now.”

You ignore her and make the effort to push her away and get to the door, but her strong figure wouldn’t budge at all. “I-I need to go, Ms. Anderson, I can’t—“ Your words get cut off as Abby begins to wrap her arms around you, enclosing your surroundings into a hug.

You couldn’t help but give in to her embrace, burying your face into her chest and sobbing into it, instantly staining the soft cotton of her shirt with your tears. The way you were acting right now was hurting Abby inside. It hurt her to know that her son was the one that caused your heart to break into a million pieces, especially knowing how much you loved him. She was willing to do anything right now to take that pain away from you.

“Listen, sweetheart…” She says, slightly pulling away to get a look at you. “I told Andrew to stay at Owen’s in the meantime, okay? You don’t have to worry about him coming here.” she takes another deep breath before continuing. “I didn’t raise my son to be like this, sweetheart…I’m sorry.”

You look up at her and shake your head in response. “I-It’s okay, Ms. Anderson, it’s not your fault…”

The warmth from one of her hands reaches your face, wiping the tears off of your cheeks “I’d like you to stay here for a bit, okay? I don’t want you going out in that storm and getting hurt…I can’t afford to lose what my son couldn’t keep.”

It was clear that Abby didn’t mean for that last sentence to slip, and she didn’t notice that she was thinking out loud until she saw your eyes widen in shock. You couldn’t help but wonder if Abby was having those same feelings towards you as well…

Your gaze shifts away for a second, and you quickly wipe the rest of your tears before looking back up at her. “As much as I’d like to, Ms. Anderson…I really don’t want to be here right now…Everything here just reminds me of him…”

You notice Abby hesitate for a moment. “Do you, uh, want to go to my room instead? Will that help?” she says, practically trying not to sound desperate. She resisted the need to beg for it, but if that was convincing enough for you to stay with her, she would be on her knees in an instant.

“Yeah…That would be a lot better, actually…”

Abby’s arm moves down to the small of your back before keeping you close to her side as you follow her upstairs to her bedroom, which was at the end of the hall. Before you go in, you couldn’t help but turn your head at the room you had just passed—Andrew’s bedroom. You were already thinking about having to eventually go in there and take your things out of his room. The thought of it was already making you sick.

Abby places a hand on your shoulder, causing you to get slightly startled before looking up at her. “You know you don’t have to go in there yet, right?” she assures you, squeezing your shoulder. “I can even get your things out of his room if you need me to.”

You simply nod and smile back at her as a silent ‘thank you’ before turning the knob of her bedroom and letting yourself in.

Upon entering, you realize how much Abby’s room differs from her son’s. Her room was painted in a shade of light blue, her bed was neatly made just as she had it in the morning. On your left, there was her dresser followed by some weights next to it, and on your right was the entrance to her bathroom. That same bathroom you had peeked into not that long ago.

“Your room is nice,” you tell her, your eyes still fixed on your surroundings. “Definitely a lot nicer than Andrew’s.”

Abby lets out a chuckle from behind. “Yeah, I know, he’s always been so unorganized.” she then hesitates for a moment before continuing. “However, there’s always been something in his room that mine doesn’t have…”

You slowly turn around to face her, noticing her starting to approach you. “What’s that?”

She stops in her tracks once she’s in front of you, gently placing her hand on your chin and lifting it up so you can see her.

“…you.”

A smile crept up on your face in reaction to her words. “Is that so? Well…”

You pause for a moment, looking at your surroundings before looking back up at her and leaning in, just close enough to where your lips were just inches away from hers.

“I like it better here anyway,” you whisper back to her.

And with that, Abby gives in and seals your words with a kiss, and you just can’t help but kiss her back. The both of you knew that this was wrong, Abby was your boyfriend’s mother for Christ’s sake.

But if it’s such a bad thing, why did it feel so good for the two of you?

You feel Abby’s hand in front of you, slightly pushing you back so you can sit down on her bed. Once you land on her bed, she drops down to her knees to your height, still maintaining her lips with yours before pulling them away momentarily to strip you down.

Her hands first meet with the hem of your shirt, gently tugging it upwards to get it off. You bring your hands up as she fully discards you from your shirt and toss it to the ground. As she now works on getting your jeans off, you unhook your bra and slowly remove it before tossing it next to your shirt.

Abby looks up for a moment, only for her gaze to linger at the mere sight of your topless self. “My god…” she says in awe, moving both of her hands to your tits. “You look so beautiful…I can’t believe he gets to see this…gets to touch this…”

With her hands still cupping your tits, she leans in to kiss one of them, causing a moan to escape from your mouth. One of her hands moves back to the button of your jeans, and she instantly gets them undone with just a single hand. Her mouth is soon off of your nipple followed by her other hand, now hardened just from the contact of her lips and fingers. You were easily getting so turned on by her, and she knew it.

However, now that your jeans were gone and your underwear was shifted to the side, you couldn’t help but stop her once she was about to dive in between your legs. “W-Wait…” you said, gently pushing her head away from your soaked cunt.

Abby paused her movements immediately, pulling her head away and looking up at you. “What? What is it?” she asks with some slight concern in her voice.

You hesitate for a moment. You genuinely don’t know how you’re going to be able to confess this to her.

“You, um…you don’t have to do it, i-if you don’t want to—“

“But I want to,” she replied firmly, instantly cutting off the rest of your words. “Do you not want me to?”

You shake your head quickly in response. “N-No, I do, I really do, I just thought—“

“Thought what? What did you think?” she asks you, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

It didn’t take long for Abby to get the message. She knew why you were being so hesitant about this. To her, it felt like she was one step away from finally being able to not only taste you but to give you the pleasure that you deserved. But to you, you couldn’t help but simply feel like a burden to her, just like how it was with her son.

“Wait a minute…Has Andrew not been doing this to you?”

Your gaze drifts off to the side, and she takes your lack of eye contact as a yes to her question.

Each of her hands was on your knees, and you could feel her tighten her grip on them a bit, but not to the point where it would hurt you. And even though you were looking away from her, you could see her shake her head in disbelief from the corner of your eye.

“I can’t believe him…” she mutters to herself with a sigh. “He really is just like his father.”

The warmth of her hand makes contact with the side of your face, tilting it back forward to face her. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart…please let me make up for my son’s actions…let me give you the pleasure that you deserve. Will you let me do that? Please?”

You hesitate once again. The thought of having Abby give you even the slightest bit of pleasure felt overwhelming to you, but the fact that she was quite literally on her knees begging to do it to you turned you on even more. If anything, Abby was being more desperate than you were right now.

So you give in this time.

“Y-yes…” you whisper out quietly to her. “Go ahead…”

And with that, Abby’s hands meet together at the waistband of your underwear, fully pulling them down and off of your legs before spreading them even farther than before.

Her lips gently brush over your sensitive clit to kiss it, and the sudden contact causes you to involuntarily jerk back. You didn’t mean to do it, but it’s been so long since you’ve been touched before, that even the slightest touch on your pussy already makes you feel overstimulated.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Abby coos, gently squeezing your hips and bringing you closer to her face. “I’ve got you, just lie back and relax for me, sweetheart, okay? Nice and slow…”

You try your best to keep your cool right now, and even Abby tries to as well. It’s clearly taking everything in her to not just quickly dive into your pussy and devour you alive. But she knows how long it’s been for you. She knows that your body hasn’t been worshipped the way that it should be.

“God….you taste so good…sweetest little thing I’ve ever had…” she murmurs into your pussy, slowly increasing the speed of her fingers.

You couldn’t help but watch in awe at the sight of Abby right now. Andrew was never willing to even put his mouth near your pussy, while his mother here was on her knees eating you like a woman starved.

“Mmmh, g-go faster, please…” you quietly whine out to her, grinding your hips against both of her thick fingers that were inside you.

You didn’t need to say anything else for Abby to instantly obey your command. Her fingers began to pump in and out of your pussy even faster than before. They were going in so deep to the point where the tip of her middle finger easily tapped into your g spot, and you absolutely loved it.

Before you knew it, Abby’s fingers and mouth were going at an extremely rapid pace inside you, so fast to the point where you were gripping onto the edge of the bed to hold yourself down.

That feeling was quickly building up inside you now, you were going to cum at any moment. However, something about that feeling felt unusual to you. It was almost as if you needed to stop what she was doing to you.

So you do. You try to warn her, even grab at her wrist to slow down.

“A-Abby, wait—oh God—fuck!”

As much as you tried, you couldn’t warn her in time. Your body had already done its deed, your pussy uncontrollably squirting into her mouth and on her fingers as you reached your peak. The rest of your body felt limp, and your brain was feeling slightly fuzzy from your orgasm.

You felt Abby shift around in between your legs to stand back up, which led you to muster up the energy to sit up on the bed. Your eyes widen at the mess you’ve just created. Everything—Abby’s face, her clothes, her sheets, your legs—was all soaked with your release.

You couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed by it, quickly closing up your legs and bringing your knees to your face. “A-Abby, I’m so sorry I—I didn’t mean to do that…I tried to—“

“Hey hey, it’s okay sweetheart…Don’t feel bad…” she murmurs out to you, gently caressing your face with one hand while bringing both of your knees back down with the other. “Did it feel good?”

You nod slowly as she looks back down at you. “Yes, it did…Better than—”

“Better than him, right?”

“Yeah. Better than him.”

A smile flashes on Abby’s face as she leans in to kiss your lips, letting you taste a bit of yourself in the process. “Then you shouldn’t be sorry, sweetheart,” she tells you as she pulls away. “Lie down on the back of the bed, princess. I'm not done with you just yet.”

You simply oblige, sitting yourself up and scooting to the back of her bed, lying your head down on top of her pillows that were stacked in front of the headboard. You watch as Abby wipes her face and licks her fingers clean before stripping herself out of her clothes. Just like last time, you couldn’t help but admire her broad, muscular figure. And it wasn't just her figure, it was just everything about her. Her bright blue eyes, her freckled skin, her luscious blond hair…You just felt so mesmerized by her. You felt an attraction to her that just couldn’t compete with Andrew at all.

Your eyes follow her movements as she leans down over her bottom bedside drawer and opens it for a moment before shaking her head and closing it. It didn’t take much for you to be able to see the strap she owned, alongside the few other toys she had in there.

The weight of the bed soon shifts down as she hovers herself over you. “Are you…are you not gonna fuck me?” you ask her quietly.

Abby nods her head as she adjusts the pillows on the back of your head to make you feel more comfortable. “I’m gonna fuck you, sweetheart, just not with those,” she says as she shifts back and begins to position herself in between your legs. “I'm gonna fuck you in a way that no man, not even my own son, could ever do with you. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

You nod quickly, eager to find out how she’s going to do this. However, you didn’t know what to do about it either. “Wait, but how do I—”

“You don’t have to do anything, okay princess? All you have to do is just look pretty for me while I do the work. Lie back and relax for me, just like before, yeah?”

You nod again, resting your upper body back on the bed as Abby continues to maneuver herself over you. She lifts up one of your legs and places it over her shoulder, and then brings her free hand down to her pussy and spreads her lips open with two of her fingers. You could easily see that she was just as wet as you were right now.

She then places her wet pussy on top of yours and you easily gasp at the newfound feeling of it. The way her lips molded perfectly against yours, along with how her arousal was practically dripping on top of your tight hole had you reeling.

“Oh fuck,” Abby mutters out, further pressing herself down on top of you. “Your pussy feels even better against me like this.”

Abby begins to grind her pussy against yours, causing you to moan over the friction. You understand that Abby wants to take her time with you right now, but God was she being so painfully slow with this. You were desperately craving for some more friction already, but you felt too shy to tell her. So you end up weakly grinding your hips instead.

“Whoa there,” Abby says, placing a hand on your hip to keep you steady. “Looks like someone’s eager for more…You want me to go faster, princess? Is that what you want?”

“Y-Yes, p-please Abby…g-go faster…” you whine out to her, continuing to grind against her pussy.

“Needy girl…” she mutters as she increases her pace. “Not even a minute with my pussy and she already wants more…I bet it feels better than any cock you’ve ever had, hm?”

All you could do at this point was babble and whine in response. The feeling of Abby’s wet cunt against yours was getting you easily drunk. You look down and watch Abby place a thumb on your hood, lifting it to expose your throbbing clit to her. She then placed her clit right on top of yours before grinding even faster than before.

The sudden overstimulation caused your eyes to flutter themselves shut and your head to tilt back in pleasure against the stack of pillows behind you. Your body soon starts to feel limp again and the familiar fuzziness in your brain soon returns again. At this point, Abby was practically using your pussy to get herself off. But as long as you kept feeling the delicious friction of her clit rubbing against yours, you didn’t mind at all.

Abby suddenly tightens her grip on your leg, leading you to open your eyes and look back at her. Her brows were furrowed in concentration with her gaze fixed on both pussies. You could hear her quietly whimpering to herself while the muscles in her abdomen were contracting and tensing up as she kept quickly grinding herself against your pussy.

At first, you couldn’t tell what she was trying to do with herself. But it didn’t take you too long to realize why her body was doing these things.

Abby was waiting for you to cum first.

You were at a loss for words at the moment. Andrew never cared about that. He would always be done the second he’d finish, meanwhile, Abby was sacrificing her own pleasure just to make you cum a second time.

“A-Are you close, sweetheart?” Abby moans out to you, keeping her hands firm against you as she continues to rub her pussy onto yours.

“Y-Yes, fuck—” you whimper back as you begin to quickly grind your hips against hers. “D-don't stop, Abby…m’so close…”

At this point, the noises that the two of you were making right now were borderline pornographic. Between your moans and whines with Abby’s grunts, along with the wet squelching sound of both of your pussies rubbing against one another, it's honestly surprising how you haven’t woken up the neighbors by now.

“Fuck, Abby—'m gonna cum, fuck!” you tell her as you grip the bedsheets while continuing to rub your clit with hers.

Within seconds, your pussy began to quickly clench around Abby’s while instantly cumming right on top of it. Once Abby felt that you were emptied out, she soon let her body relax before cumming onto your pussy as well with a broken moan.

Once the both of you have recovered from each other's climaxes, Abby presses a soft kiss to your ankle before gently getting your leg off of her shoulder and setting it back down.

Feeling drunk from your orgasm, you let your eyes flutter shut for a moment, hardly feeling the movements of Abby cleaning you up and tucking you into a fresh set of sheets. Your eyes open back up again once Abby has her arm wrapped around you from behind. “Abby, that was…that felt amazing..” you whisper out to her.

Abby lets out a chuckle before gently kissing the back of your shoulder. “I’m glad I could make up for it, sweetheart,” she whispers back to you.

You turn your head around for a moment to face her. “Are you sure I can spend the night here with you?” you ask her shyly.

Abby smiles at you, giving you a quick kiss on your lips before responding. “Of course you can, sweetheart…you know I told him not to come back,” she reassures you, gently caressing the side of your face with her hand. “You’re in good hands with me, I promise.”

You smile at her before turning back around and pressing yourself closer to her as she keeps you tightly wrapped in her embrace. The security that Abby was giving you right now was more than enough to make you instantly drift off to sleep, secretly wishing that the night that you’d spent with your boyfriend’s mother could now last a lifetime.

And little did you know, Abby was also wishing the same thing too.

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alrightieaphroditie · 19 days

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wipe my tears away | j.m.

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pairing *:·ﾟ afab!reader x joel miller wc *:·ﾟ6.6k warnings *:·ﾟ18+! minors please do not interact!! talk of period pain, hormonal emotions, crying, kissing, some manhandling (if you squint), sad attempt at dirty talk, period play (lightly), fingering, maybe some degradation (not really sure), clit stimulation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f receiving), squirting/messy cum, p in v penetration (not protected, do better!), one mention of blood… please let me know if i’m missing any major ones! an *:·ﾟthis is for the girlies who get over emotional during their periods (they are me, i am them). this is a bit longer than intended, but once i got in the zone i literally couldn’t stop, so i hope y’all will enjoy it! kind of unedited, so if anything major jumps out feel free to comment lol. i also wrote this with correct capitalization, where all my previous fics were lowercase bc i couldn’t be bothered to turn on auto caps, so let me know if y’all prefer this format! check the series masterlist for the series tags!

synopsis *:·ﾟ joel comes home to find you laying in bed, crying because of period pain. he may not be a full gentleman, but he wouldn’t let you suffer when he has a trick up his sleeve to help sooth the cramps.

The pain that begins in your lower abdomen, the feeling that radiates throughout the rest of your lower body with enough force to make you wince, isn’t entirely new. It’s a monthly occurrence, actually. One that you feel like you should be used to by now, considering it’s plagued you for more than half your life.

But the outbreak had already happened when you first got your period as a teen, and for a while, your body wasn’t receiving the nutrients it needed to sustain that kind of function. It was a double-edged sword, the way you were appreciative that you haven’t had it this bad your entire life, while ruminating on the losses that occurred due to the infection.

Because it was a different story, now.

Now, you were eating more than you could ever remember before. Jackson was a thriving community, after all. And you were beyond blessed that you were one of the lucky ones who got to reside within its gates. Now, your body was properly fed and being taken care of for the first time in years, and that double-edged sword reared in your mind again; thankful for the safe space you’ve landed upon, but God, at what cost? Your period pain took you out for days each month, making you feel like a burden even though you physically couldn’t help it.

Your toe stubbed against a chair in your living room as another cramp worked its way through your body, causing you to cry out for more than one reason. Tears filled your waterline, and a heavy sigh escaped past your lips. The rough material of your jeans was digging into your waistline, your hair felt heavy against your neck and each strand that brushed against your cheek made you want to cut it off, and you just felt so useless. Some logical part of your brain realized this wasn’t really you feeling this way, it was just the hormonal shift, but that didn’t provide any sense of comfort as the tears continued to glide down your face.

In some ways, you were lucky, as today had been your day off from helping around Jackson. Otherwise, that sense of being a burden to everyone would’ve increased tenfold. You couldn't stop feeling like a burden to yourself, though. You had made a perfectly organized to-do list that was hanging on your fridge of things you wanted to tackle today.

Your sheets needed to be washed. The floors needed to be swept and mopped, especially after the rain, as Joel and Ellie continued to trek mud through your house by accident. Maria had given you some of the spices that grew in abundance, and you wanted to make one of those simmer pots on the stove that she kept mentioning.

But doing those chores was the last thing on your mind right now, as another cramp racked its way through your body. Now, you just wanted to go lay in bed wearing nothing but Joel's shirt that you had thrown on earlier and cry while hugging a pillow.

And so, that’s what you did.

Your vision was watery as your fingers swiftly worked to unbutton your pants, your feet carrying you out of the living room and into your bedroom before you really even realized what you were doing. Once you hit your bedside, you tugged the jeans down your legs, letting them pool at your feet and leaving them on the ground as you crawl into bed, feeling about as pathetic as you probably looked. Curling up on your side, you reach out blindly and grab onto Joel's pillow, tucking it against your body and letting it provide you a false sense of comfort. After that, the tears start flowing freely.

You didn’t know how long you laid there, didn’t know how long the sound of your sniffles had filled the room or how long you pressed the pillow against your abdomen. The cramps were still relentless, and it wasn’t like you even had any medicine you could take; expired Tylenol did absolutely nothing anymore. You wish you were more used to this feeling, this pain. But it seemed like the longer you were at Jackson, the worse the symptoms became each month. You had yet to figure out the remedies that were foolproof for this feeling.

Continuous tears turned into lonely, stray droplets as you held onto the pillow. The room was silent except for the occasional sniff. You had zeroed in on an undone thread on the pillowcase, not paying attention to your surroundings, so you didn’t hear the sound of the front door being pushed open, or the sound of Joel's work boots stomping across the wooden floors. In the corners of your mind, you recognized the voice that was muttering to himself outside your room, but your eyes stayed focused on that singular thread.

The thought of it being lonely, being apart from the other threads holding the fabric together, made your eyes water again. You could put yourself in its position, the ever present fear of being alone daunting you even now, and that was enough to send the tears over your waterline, racing down your cheeks and onto the pillow once again. The hiccup that came from your inhale was the noise that had the footfalls move towards your room, and through your blurry vision you saw the outline of Joel standing in the doorway.

“What's wrong?” Through your sniffles, you could sense his urgency, his rough voice filled with nothing but concern, and maybe a little worry. His gaze swept over your body, checking for any possible injury. This was the first time he’d seen you break down to this level, and the sight of you curled into a fetal position, tears streaming down your face with his pillow in your grasp… he prayed to God that another person wasn’t involved with making you feel this way.

It would be a shame to lose his good reputation amongst Jackson because he had to beat some fucker up.

Your gaze swung up to his face, and you made yourself blink harshly to expel the lingering tears. His face came into focus, the worry lines on his forehead becoming more clear to compliment the frown on his full lips. He had a spot of dirt streaking across his forehead, and his clothes were dirty from spending the day working outside. For whatever reason, the fact that Joel had been out working in the heat for most of the day while you couldn’t even manage to get up and wash your bedsheets made your emotions spiral even more. What is wrong with me? you wondered, hugging the pillow tighter to your body.

The sound of his work bag hitting the floor echoed through the room, soon followed by the shuffle of his boots being kicked off his feet. His hands were gently pulling the pillow away before you could even register that he was in front of you now, but you felt the bed dip under his weight as he perched himself at the edge. His broad hand rested on your elbow before sliding up your arm, gently caressing your skin until he reached the side of your face. The calluses on his thumb scratched against your skin as he swiped the digit under your eye, wiping away the tears that had pooled.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” his voice was softer this time, comforting you in a way that had you feeling alright for the first time today. You leaned up on your elbows, and Joel helped guide you into a sitting position across from him, your hands holding on to one of his while his other cupped your face, thumb swiping against skin. The action of sitting up had your cramps rearing their ugly heads again, and your wince was subtle but extremely obvious to Joel, evident by the furrowing of his eyebrows.

“My uterus is what’s wrong,” the scratchiness of your throat had you coughing slightly, and you worked to clear it before trying again, voice nearly as weak as you felt. “I'm on my period.” Joel's eyes widened in surprise at your admission, but he quickly schooled his features.

This wasn’t his first rodeo; he’d been with you for awhile now, but noticed that each month your symptoms were different. Sometimes, your sudden anger at everything gave away the fact that it was that time of the month. Other times, it was your sweet tooth and your cravings that gave it away. Rarely was it your tears, though, and his heart lurched at this new response.

When your hands went to wrap around your stomach, applying pressure lightly to help ease the throbbing, his free hand came up to the other side of your face. “‘m sorry, darlin. Know that ain’t the best feeling in the world,” his thumbs were doing a stand up job at wiping away the tears on your cheeks, and soon the only sign that you had been crying was the red glaze surrounding your pupils.

And the occasional sniffle.

You leaned into his touch, eyes closing at the surprising amount of comfort that you felt from a pair of hands. You always felt at peace with Joel, though, so you weren’t surprised that his hands had this effect on you. You focused on the rough pads of his skin against the smooth texture of your own, taking in big breaths of air through your nose as your crying spell passed through you. Now you were thinking a little more clearly and felt a little embarrassed by the fact that Joel had walked in on you crying over a thread on a pillow case. Not that he’d ever know that’s what you were crying about.

“It's okay. I'm sorry if i scared you or anything,” you started, opening your eyes to meet Joel's dark gaze. You offered him a small smile. “I really just need to learn how to deal with these cramps without them taking over my day. They seem to be getting worse and worse each month.” Your hands trailed up to grip his forearms, squeezing them affectionately as a wave of exhaustion flitted through your body.

Joel's eyes squinted slightly. “Cramps, huh?” he mused, the corner of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. In the far corner of his mind, he recalled a younger Tommy swearing by a foolproof activity that helped one of his girlfriends with her cramps when medicine didn’t cut it. He wasn’t sure he believed Tommy then, or even now, for that matter. But he knew how much you struggled with the pain, and he’d feel like a real jerk if he didn’t at least give this a go.

“Think I know somethin’ that could help with that.” He pulled your head forward, pressing a chaste kiss on top of your forehead before dropping his hands and pushing off of the bed. You were slightly dazed, partly at the display of affection but also at the quickness in which Joel was walking to the bathroom. When he came back into the room with an old towel, you couldn’t help but look at him suspiciously.

“Joel…”

“Do you trust me?” He asked, tossing the towel on the bed and leaning down to look at you, eye to eye. His demeanor was calm, but his eyes shined with a hint of mischievousness, and the smirk on his mouth was nothing but trouble. It made him look younger, almost. Like the gray in his beard and around the temples of his hair was there prematurely. You wondered if he was like that more before the outbreak, and you reveled in this glimpse of his past self that he was allowing you to see.

“Of course I do.” Your answer was absolute, eyes showing no signs of distrust or wariness as you maintained contact with Joel’s. He reveled in the sureness of your answer, in the fact that it didn’t even take you more than a second to respond to his question. The smirk became a full blown grin, and you couldn’t help but mirror it on your own face as you wondered what the heck this man was thinking.

“Good. In that case, I'm gonna go clean myself up,” his lips pressed against yours in a swift kiss before he backed away, fingers stretching to the hem of his t-shirt. “You’re gonna strip out of those panties, spread that towel out underneath you, and wait for me to come back. Okay?” One of his eyebrows notched up, awaiting your response.

“Sir, yes, sir,” you teased, sending him off with a mocking salute. It earned you an eye roll, something he had been picking up more and more from Ellie's influence, no doubt. The sound of your giggle followed him into the bathroom, where he quickly worked to discard his dirty clothes and rinse off. The thought of you laying in bed with just his t-shirt on had him adjusting himself underneath the water stream.

Meanwhile, you were working at a slower pace.

You gingerly took the threadbare towel between your hands, kneeling up on your knees to place it where you thought would work best. You were starting to get an idea of what Joel was planning, and while you’ve never done anything like this before, you weren’t absolutely hating it. After you had smoothed the fabric out, you climbed back against the pillows, hooking your thumbs under the waistband of your panties and sliding them down. The pad on the inside showed slight signs of blood, so at least you weren’t bleeding too heavily right now. Usually that came after a day or two of the cramps.

You were combing your fingers through your hair when Joel walked back into the room, pausing at the threshold while you both took each other in. His hair was damp, droplets of water occasionally dripping on his forehead, brushed back at the edges and the tops to keep it out of his face. He had been growing it out a little longer, though you knew when summer fully came around, it’d be time to clip it.

He’d changed out of a plain, gray t-shirt into another plain, gray t-shirt - clearly a staple in his wardrobe - and you had to admire the way he was filling it out. The sleeves hugged the middle of his biceps, straining against the pure muscle that had been building up. The shirt fit loose around his chest, but you could see the way it was snug around his tummy area, the small pouch of his stomach highlighted by the thin material.

You weren’t the only one who had been eating better since arriving at Jackson; Joel was starting to bulk up and you were loving it.

Having ended his workday earlier, and foreseeing spending the rest of the day in bed with you, he had pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants that clung to his thighs and offered very little to the imagination when it came to the thick imprint between his legs. The sight of him had your thighs clenching together automatically, heat racing through your body like a fever.

And he knew it, too. You could tell by the smirk on his lips, the way his gaze strayed from your eyes to your legs. He loved having that affect on you, loved seeing how needy you became by just the thought of being with him.

He walked to the other side of the bed, his eyes focused solely on you in his red shirt, the way your legs were crossed at the bottom, giving him just the smallest peak of bare skin underneath. You listen to him so well, he couldn’t help but admire. You gave him your trust so easily, and that was one of the few things that Joel considered to be precious in this world. He'd never make you regret that choice.

Leaning up on your elbows, your body naturally turned towards him when he finally settled himself on his side next to you. One of his arms slipped behind your head, tucking you into his body as the other came up to guide your face to his. His lips were soft against your own, and all the tension you had felt from crying earlier completely disappeared.

Your hands clung to his arm as he kissed you, a soft sigh escaping through your lips. Joel took the opening to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip before dipping it into your mouth. Your mind was growing fuzzy, and you simply let Joel manipulate you how he wanted, eagerly offering yourself to him.

His mouth stayed on yours, your noses brushing against each other with every tilt of the head, but his hand strayed from your cheek. It paved a path to the collar of the t-shirt, where he fisted the material and tugged it towards himself, halfway pulling you on top of him with the movement. Your hands flung out to his chest to stop yourself from completely crashing into him, and a groan sounded against your mouth as Joel felt the tips of your fingers dig into the skin.

He soon abandoned the collar, letting his palm slide down the expanse of your torso and bunching the shirt up a little before settling it right over your lower abdomen, fingers splayed out wide against your bare skin. The heat radiating from his palm on your skin was like your own personal heating pad; the soreness that ebbed from your cramps seemed to dissipate the longer his hand rested against your skin, the action making your head spin as you focused on breathing through your nose as Joel’s tongue traced along yours.

Joel’s mouth trailed from your lips down to your jaw, down to your neck. The stubble growing on his face scratched at your skin when he nuzzled himself in the crook of your neck, causing a combination of a laugh and a moan to flutter past your lips. You could feel him smile against your skin before nipping at it gently, using his lips and tongue to ebb the slight pain away. You could feel him sucking at your skin, and you knew in the morning you’d regret the red and purple marks that would litter your skin, but right now, the feeling was absolute heaven.

“Spread those legs for me, baby.” The words were whispered against your skin, accompanied by a quick tap to your thighs. You didn’t hesitate to obey; your left leg fell to the side while you rested your right leg on top of Joel's. His hand slipped from your stomach to your upper thigh, gripping the fleshy inside as he helped adjust it higher on his body.

The cool air from the fan had you shivering as it made contact with your bare skin, emphasizing the wet slick that had formed between your legs. Joel's mouth found itself back on yours, his kiss turning punishing, almost, as his hand slowly moved down your inner thigh; his teeth were biting and pulling at your lower lip, his fingers were digging into your skin as he kneaded and gripped your thigh.

“Joel,” you mewled, stretching up slightly to angle your hips closer to his hand. You were settled in the crook of his elbow, and his arm came up to bare against your throat ever so slightly. He essentially had you in a headlock, and you were helpless to anything he administered. Goosebumps prickled along your skin, and you whined once more when his fingers brushed against the crease of your leg.

“Shh, s’okay, baby. Let me take care of you,” his words were soothing, soft. A complete contrast to the way he was handling your body, and it was all you could do but nod in response, eyes wide and trusting as they held contact with him. His pupils were so dilated that you could barely see the rim of brown, even this close.

Another sharp tap to your inner thigh had you gasping, and Joel's mouth formed into a smirk as his calloused fingers eased the spot. You’d like to blame the hormones fluttering around your body for the desperation you were feeling for Joel, but part of you knew that he simply just had this affect on you. You always grew so needy for his attention, for his touch. Being with him was the only time your brain truly shut off and allowed you to feel safe, relaxed.

His fingertips were stroking the inside of your thigh like it was the strings on one of his guitars, a slow but firm sensation that had you humming; he was playing a different kind of instrument with you. You could feel yourself growing slicker, the bubble in your chest expanding as he teased you, touched you.

“Joel, please…” you trailed off, turning your head to the side and bumping the edge of his jaw with your nose. His gaze had slipped to where his fingers were caressing your skin, basking in the suppleness of your skin that so vastly compared to the roughness of his. You felt like a dream.

“Such pretty manners,.” he mocked, grinning to himself before meeting your eyes once more. “Since you asked nicely, though…” The kiss he pressed on your nose was soft, but your focus was on how his fingers were finally crossing over the crease in your thigh, finally trailing down to your core.

The first swipe of his fingers through your folds had a small moan emit from your mouth, and a curse came from Joel’s as he felt how wet you were already. “Shit, baby,” he muttered to himself more than anything, watching his fingers as he lifted them up into the light to see the shine. Chest heaving, you watched as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, watched as he placed them on his tongue before closing his lips around the digits and sucking on them while he pulled them out.

His fingers were now wet with his spit, evident by the thin strand of saliva still connecting his mouth to his fingers. The sight alone had your toes curling against the mattress, your mouth open slightly as you watched him bring his hand back down to your pussy. Your breath left you as his second swipe was firmer, the tips of his fingers passing along your clit for a brief moment before moving back down.

His forearm flexed slightly against your neck, his free hand moving down to brush against the top of your chest. One of your hands moved to grip his arm, nails digging into skin ever so slightly as Joel’s fingers brushed your entrance, swirling around slightly to gather the wetness that had formed. A soft sigh left his mouth as he felt you, and the next moment, two of his fingers were swiftly pushing inside of you.

“Joel!” You gasped out, back arching into his touch as he pumped his fingers into you once, twice, three times before pulling them out. Joel huffed out a laugh at your whine from the loss of contact, glancing down at you to see your reaction to him circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. He was rewarded with the softest of sighs, and the sight of your eyes rolling shut while your mouth parted open.

He didn’t hesitate to capture your lips with his, his mouth against yours as firm as his thumb on your clit. The kiss was quick, and Joel’s nose brushed against yours as he pulled back ever so slightly. “Such a pretty girl, achin’ for me to fill you up. My fingers feel real nice against your pussy now, don't they, baby?”

A short and snappy nod was your form of a response, as you were solely focused on the way Joel’s middle finger was circling your clit now. Your hips bucked up as waves of pleasure wracked your body, Joel’s expert fingers bringing you relief you so desperately needed. The action had Joel smirking above you, had his hips grinding slightly against your thigh in a sad attempt at getting some friction for his now hard cock.

Joel pulled back from his admissions on your clit, sliding his middle finger through the center of you before slowly inserting it back inside you. The gasp that left your mouth was music to his ears, and he began moving it in and out, curling it up once it was fully inside your wet pussy. Head falling back against Joel’s arm, your legs widening even further as Joel picked up a steady rhythm with his one finger.

“So good, Joel,” you rasped, voice breathless as Joel’s finger curled against the spongy part inside of you that had your body jerking in response. Licking your lips, you pulled the bottom lip into your mouth, teeth sinking in as the pleasure continued to build up in your body. Your right hand moved to rest on his wrist, while the other stayed gripping his left forearm.

Basking in your praise, Joel withdrew his middle finger and, when he pumped it back inside, added his ring finger. The addition had you groaning, feeling his two fingers stretch you out slowly as he pushed them inside and pulled them out. You felt Joel’s lips press against your forehead as he worked to pick up the pace, and soon all that could be heard in the room was the wet sound of your pussy being fucked by his fingers.

“God, I could listen to you all night,” he mumbled, curling his fingers in a “come here” motion inside you and marveling at how drenched you sounded. “So fuckin’ wet for me, sweetheart. Haven’t even taken my cock yet, either, you needy thing.”

His words only sparked the fire inside your chest even more, and soon you were moaning his name over and over again in some kind of sick prayer as he filled you with his fingers. Your mouth dropped open as his thumb moved to glide against your clit, pleasure radiating throughout your body.

Your fingers dug half-moon indentions in Joel’s tanned skin as the waves of pleasure finally crested.

Your body went rigid in his hold as your orgasm peaked, his fingers never ceasing in motion as your hips began to shake against his hand. He muttered soft praises as you came, moving his arm from across your chest and intertwining your fingers with his. You gasped for air as you came down, thighs twitching ever so slightly as you soon became putty against Joel’s body.

Only then did he pull his fingers out from inside of you. He kissed your forehead once more, cupping your drenched pussy with the palm of his hand. Your chest was heaving still from the orgasm, body feeling tired once more but for a completely different reason. Resting your head back on Joel’s arm, you glance up at him, expecting him to move his hand away and maybe help you clean up.

Instead, Joel’s dark gaze was solely focused on your pussy again. Instead of moving his hand away, he slowly moved it up your center, stopping only when his middle finger brushed against your clit. He moved his hand to the side slightly, letting the tips of his other fingers brush against the sensitive nub, before sliding it the other way. His action was slow, methodical even.

“Joel,” you ventured, squeezing his hand that rested in yours. His jaw twitched, but that was the only response you got. He leaned up on his elbow, your hand moving up along the mattress as he did so. Now, your interlaced hands rested above you, on the pillow, as Joel’s upper body hovered on top of yours.

Ever so slowly, Joel resumed the movement of his hand, sliding to one side before moving it to the other. His fingers all brushed against your clit, and the overstimulation you felt had your thighs closing together.

“Keep ‘em open, baby.” Joel admonished, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. His free hand pushed away your left leg before returning back to your clit, and you swore you could feel the wetness lingering on your skin from him doing so. The roughness of the towel underneath you prickled at your skin as your hips twitched from the continued pleasure.

“Joel,” you ventured again, this time more of a plea than anything. Tears formed on your waterline when he picked up the pace, his hand firmly rubbing against your clit each time he moved it. That bubble of pleasure formed more quickly in your chest, the feeling fiery and almost suffocating as Joel’s movements were relentless.

“Give me one more,” his voice was rough, distant. “Just one more.” His hand dipped to cup your pussy once more, gliding up through your folds and moving the wetness from there up to your clit. The added lubrication and friction as Joel increased his pace had you crying out, body arching forward at the onslaught of pleasure.

Your orgasm approached much faster this time, and you could feel your slick dripping down your skin onto the towel. “Oh my God,” you whimpered, your hand painfully holding onto Joel’s while the other, which had moved to rest on his hip, gripped his t-shirt. “Oh, God.”

This time, when you came, the bubble dropped from your chest and to your stomach and your body went limp as soon as your orgasm tore through you. Your mind was a haze of euphoria, and if you were more cognizant you would have been embarrassed at the feeling of your wetness squirting out from you, would have felt heated at the way Joel praised your body. Instead, you were blissfully gone, basking in the sensation that only Joel’s fingers knew how to bring you.

Joel’s hand slipped from yours as he pulled his arm up from underneath you, and before you were even aware of the shift, he was up on his knees, moving in between your legs and tugging his flannel pants down. “Gotta fuck you, baby. Jesus Christ, you came so good for me.” His hands bracketed your head as he leaned up against your body, the head of his leaking cock pressed against your wet slit.

You hummed at his praise, wrapping your weak arms around his neck as you shifted your thighs a little wider to accommodate for his hips. You weren’t entirely sure you could handle another orgasm, but you knew you were desperate to have him inside of you. His head ducked down to yours, and you enthusiastically pressed your lips against his, enveloping his hips with your legs in consent.

With a nip at your bottom lip, he slowly pressed the tip of his cock in between your folds, gathering the wetness that had accumulated near your entrance before moving his hips even further. The head of his cock pushed into your pussy, stretching you out even more than his fingers did previously. Joel groaned into your mouth as he pumped his hips slightly, pulling out of you before sinking just the tip inside you again.

“Fuck, sweetheart. My fingers didn’t stretch out your pussy enough, huh? S’fuckin’ tight as hell around my cock.” One of his hands came to brush aside your hair, cupping the side of your face gently while his hips snapped into yours. You cried out against his mouth, the feeling of being filled so suddenly causing you to wince slightly. You welcomed this pain, however, as it quickly gave way to pleasure the more Joel rocked his hips against yours.

Joel rested his hips against yours for a moment, his head falling down to your chest as he reveled in the tightness surrounding his cock. His breaths came out in short pants, the hand laying next to your head turning into a fist against the mattress. Your hips move up slightly, seeking out the pleasure even after coming twice before, and it brings Joel in further, causing you both to curse.

“So desperate for me to fuck you,” Joel’s words are accented by short, quick thrusts up inside of you. He pushed up off of you, your arms falling to the bed beside you while your legs fall open as they untangle from his waist. His hands grip the inside of your thighs, and he leans his weight forward a little, pinning your legs to the bed.

“I am, Joel. P-please fuck me,” you beg, gripping the sheets between your fingers as your hips meet his thrusts. Joel starts off slowly, implanting you fully on his cock before slowly pulling back until just the tip presses against your pussy. His bruising grip on your thighs holds your legs open while he works himself in and out of you, eyes cast on how your slick coats his cock, the occasional red streak coloring his flesh.

A stray curl of hair falls from his previously brushed back hair, and you itch to swipe it back into place, but his pace quickens and your hold on the bed keeps you from banging against the bed frame. The sound of his cock entering your wet pussy fills the room, the indecency of it causing your skin to flush with heat. Joel’s groans start to find time with your whimpers, and soon the noises of sex are emitting throughout the bedroom, throughout the house.

Joel’s hands move away from your thighs, traveling up your stomach and pushing up his red t-shirt to see your boobs bouncing with each thrust. He admires the peaks of your nipples, the way goosebumps arise on your flesh as it’s exposed to the cool air, before bringing both hands to grip onto them. His thumbs and forefingers pinch at your nipples, the pain mixing in with the pleasure seamlessly.

Your eyes fall shut on a moan, body arching into his touch as you clench around Joel, causing him to curse. The familiar sensation of heat fills your body, that third orgasm floating slightly out of reach. You move one of your hands down to your pussy, resting it on your mound. Your fingertips brush against Joel’s cock every time he withdraws, and you moan at how slick he feels before bringing your fingers to your clit.

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself come on my cock,” Joel encourages, gaze focused on the way your fingers nimbly play with your throbbing clit. His hands squeeze your breasts roughly one last time before he leans up, gripping your ankles and bringing your legs to rest on top of his shoulders. Your thighs press against his cock as he fucks you, adding in another level of pleasure for him as he fights back his orgasm.

“Just like that, Joel. Just like that…oh!” Your cries fill the room as he pounds into you, your fingers increasing the pace against your clit. Your movements are shaky, not precise in the slightest, but you’re still sensitive and wound up from your previous orgasms that it doesn’t take much to get your third one going. With a few clumsy swipes of your middle finger against your clit, and Joel’s cock ruthlessly hammering in and out of you, your final orgasm floods through your body.

Joel curses as he feels your pussy clench around him, making his movements stagger with how tight you become. He gives a few more deep thrusts, his own movements becoming shaky and less precise, and he soon slips out of you, rubbing the length of his cock along your pussy lips as you gush with your orgasm. With a grunt, he follows soon, his own cum spurting out of his red cockhead and on to your lower stomach.

Your legs fall meekly to the bed again, and Joel’s body sags forward a little before he props himself back up with his hands. The sound of you both panting is all that can be heard as you both come down from your orgasms; you, eyes closed and mouth open. Joel, eyes open and mouth closed, nostrils flaring slightly as he regulates himself.

It takes a moment before you both get back to yourselves, but when you do, you become increasingly aware of the wet feeling underneath your lower body, which causes you to giggle. “Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get around to cleaning my sheets today, huh?”

A snort comes out of Joel, his head shaking slightly as he moves to brush back his hair. He takes in the sight of you, freshly fucked and thouroughly spent, and can’t help but grin. He might be older, but he relishes the fact that he can still please you like this. That you actually want him to do so. Makes him feel like a god among men.

He sees the tears around your lash line from your last two orgasms, and he leans forward slightly to wipe them away with his thumb, triggering in his mind the conversation you both had before this all started. “Feelin’ alright?” His gaze moves around your body, checking to see if he hurt you in any way. He notes the red marks against the side of your neck, the cum on your lower stomach and the beginnings of many small bruises along the inside of your thigh from where he gripped them to keep them open.

He’d be more worried about those if he didn’t know how much you loved having him mark you up.

“Just peachy,” you grinned at him, propping yourself up on your elbows to take in the mess below you. Joel leaned in to meet you, his kiss soft and soothing as his lips slid against yours. After a moment, he pulls away again, awkwardly shuffling to the edge of the bed before standing up. Hiking up his pants, he moves to the bathroom to get a washcloth to start cleaning you up.

After wiping away his cum and your wetness, he gently helps you off the bed, holding your arm as your legs fumble when your feet hit the ground. His pride grows then, and you smack his arm playfully when you catch sight of his grin. “Sorry,” he mutters, pressing a kiss against the side of your head before moving to gather up the dirty towel from the bed. He tosses it into the hamper before leading you to the bathroom.

There, he draws you a hot bath, guiding you in the tub and before pulling his clothes off and joining you. It’s a cramped space, the bathtub not technically suitable for two, but you make it work. You lean your head against Joel’s shoulders, sinking into his body as his arms wrap around your middle. You know you should do something with your bedding soon, should make sure you have the guest room set up so the two of you can sleep somewhere remotely comfortable tonight, but for now, you bask in his presence.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Joel.” You say softly, closing your eyes and letting the hot water ease away any lingering soreness your body has. His arms tighten around you as you trace mindless shapes against his thighs. He tilts his head to the side, kissing your forehead before resting his on top of yours.

“Anytime, baby.” His breathing evens out with yours, stubble rubbing against your forehead as he speaks. “I’ll always be here to wipe your tears away.”

taglist *:·ﾟ @hiroikegawa

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aerynwrites · 8 months

Text

Lovers Embrace

Halsin x afab!reader

A/N: I finally have an excuse to use the shirtless Halsin gif and I couldn’t be happier lmao. But yes - sex pollen/potion fic at your service 😏 hope y’all enjoy!

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! Smut, sex pollen trope and all that comes with it, accidental consumption of aphrodisiac potion, reader has female anatomy, PiV sex, oral (female receiving), nudity, unprotected sex, fluff.

The only sound filling the tent is of the pestle grinding down into the mortar. It’s uncharacteristic for the camp to be so calm and devoid of sound, but most everyone else had agreed to Karlach’s idea of a jaunt into the city to spend the rest of the day at the Elfsong Tavern.

They had tried to get everyone to go, but Halsin chose to stay back and you followed suit - both because you won’t ever say no to some alone time with your partner, and because you had also wanted to stock up on some potions.

Which is where you are now - you’ve already got a good batch of lesser healing potions brewing and you’re currently working on a potion you found a recipe for, which just seems to be an amped up version of the greater healing potion while adding in a stamina aspect as well.

Halsin had left not long ago to look for a bit more of one of the ingredients, since you’re working with the last of what you have. Just as you finish preparing the ingredients, the first batch of the trial is done.

You look over the instructions one more time just to double-check that everything you’ve done was correct before taking the vial in hand, appraising your handy work.

Silently, you wish there was a better way to test potions rather than trying them outright, but if something were to go awry, you know Halsin isn’t far.

The potion is tinged red like the other healing potions, but held up to the candlelight, you can see that it’s slightly purple as well. Most likely from the stamina portion of the potion.

Slowly, you bring it towards you, carefully sniffing the concoction. When nothing seems off, you finally place the vial against your lips. The liquid is warm as it hits your lips and spreads over your tongue, and you automatically notice a difference in taste.

The other healing potions taste medicinal in nature, not at all pleasant. But this is…different. Sweeter. It’s more rich as well, coating your mouth and throat in a syrupy thickness as you consume it.

You pull the vial away from your lips and stare at the empty glass curiously before glancing down at your hands. You’d been sparring with Lae’zel earlier, resulting in bruised and split knuckles - the perfect way to test this new potion.

Except…they’re still there. Even after you wipe away the dried blood, the minor injuries are still present. Quickly, you set the vial off to the side and look back to your notes. Maybe the potion has a delay in effect, or takes longer than usual?

However, after reading over the notes several times, one particular phrase leaps off the page.

Effects are immediate.

So why isn’t it working?

You move to look over the ingredients once more, but stop as you reach for them. Your hands are shaking. Badly. And not only that - it feels as if the air in the tent has risen several degrees, a cold sweat breaking out along your skin.

Oh fuck.

Did you just poison yourself?

You move to stand but the world sways, mind foggy as a wave of…something rushes through you and settles low in your belly. Your knees almost buckle beneath you as something all too familiar clenches in your core.

“Halsin!” His name is falling from your lips before you can even stop it, not even wondering if he is in ear shot to hear you.

Panic is settling in now, fear of not knowing what you consumed or what it’s going to do to you. You stagger towards the tent’s entrance, pulling the flap back just as your partner does the same.

He stands before you, brows furrowed as he looks down at you. “I heard you call out as I came back into camp. Are you alright, my love?”

You shake your head, wanting to tell him no, you’re not alright, when your eyes land on the bundles of plants in his hand. Confusion fights its way to the front of your mind as you reach out to touch the plants.

“What is that?”

Halsin looks even more concerned now, “It is what you asked me to gather for the potion you are working on. Is it not?”

You shake your head, turning back to the desk to pick up the last stalk of belladonna you have before showing it to Halsin. “No, I needed belladonna, I-ah-“

Another wave of, what you now realize is pleasure courses through you, finally bringing you to your knees. But Halsin is quick. His hands catch you before you hit the ground as he gently lowers you both to your knees.

His concern is palpable now as he looks from you to the plant in your hand, and finally to the empty vial on the desk. His grip on you tightens.

“That is not belladonna,” he informs you, pulling away to show you what he gathered. “This is.”

“Then what…what is this?” You choke on a gasp, curling in on yourself. “What did I drink? Am I…Did I poison myself?”

Halsin quickly reaches over you to take the papers from the desk, scanning them over quickly. His eyes widen slightly before he lets out a soft sigh, eyes falling shut tightly.

“You did not poison yourself, my heart,” he tells you, causing a slight sense of relief to course through you.

However, any relief is overshadowed by the aching need now flowing through your veins. And Halsin’s presence just seems to make it worse, his smell invading your senses, his presence calling to you. You try to shove it away.

“Then what is happening?” The words are a plea on your lips as the pain starts to bloom in your belly, gnawing into your very bones.

Sensing your discomfort, Halsin speaks quickly, tossing the things aside in favor of taking the plant still gripped in your hand.

“This is Lover’s Nettle. It’s a rare plant, so I am surprised you stumbled upon it.” He reaches over you again to trade the plant for the empty vial on the desk, sticky purple residue still stuck to the glass.

He takes a small sniff and his lips quirk upwards ever so slightly. “It seems you accidentally created an aphrodisiac potion, little one - a potent one at that.”

Embarrassment wells up in your chest, almost strong enough to overwhelm your other senses. “I…what?”

Ever attuned to your emotions, the druid takes your face gently in his hands, turning your gaze towards him. “I have encountered what I believe to be this same elixir in the days of my youth. They called it Lover’s Embrace, as I am sure you can see why-“

“Halsin, you know I love you, but please-” Your plea comes out in a whine. “Is it harmful?”

Halsin smiles at you, that all too familiar twinkle in his eye. “No, my heart, it will not harm you. But it does tend to cause great discomfort until one’s…baser needs are met.”

“What?” you gasp, “why would someone create something like that?”

Gently, not wanting to rush you, Halsin readjusts and tugs you into his lap. The new position has you straddling his lap and places you slightly above him so the usually taller man has to gaze up at you for once.

“For many reasons, but the most common is just for pleasure’s sake - it was very common in brothels in the city to increase one’s pleasure during their time there.” Halsin’s voice is low now, his hands tracing patterns onto your back and making it even harder for you to stay focused.

“Although, the potion was meant to be consumed by both parties, but…” he’s leaned in now, lips brushing your jaw as he speaks. “It seems you’ve taken enough for the both of us.”

His words, his lips, the way his hands caress you, it all comes together to snap that final tiny string of restraint you had left. Turning, you capture Halsin’s lips with your own, your hands coming up to fist in the material of his shirt as you finally let the potion take over.

Gods, you want him.

You always want him, but now…you feel as if you’ll shatter into a million fragile pieces if he doesn’t touch you.

Halsin, always attuned to every part of you it seems, quickly obliges your silent thoughts. Large hands run from your hips up your sides, rucking up the fabric of your shirt as he does until, eventually, he slips his hands beneath the piece of clothing. They’re warm, as they always are - but now it feels like they’re on fire, scorching a path on your skin as he moves ever upwards, fingers trailing delicately along your spine.

“Halsin.” His name is a plea on your lips as you pull away from the kiss, forehead falling to rest against his own. “Please…”

His lips land on the corner of your own before trailing down to your jaw and lower, stoking the flames even more, until he finally moves to tug your shirt over your head - separating you both for just a brief moment before his lips are on your skin once more.

“Tell me what you need from me, my heart. State your desire and it is yours.” Halsin’s voice is low, almost a rasp as his lips brush over your neck, stopping there to suckle the skin sweetly, teeth barely grazing before moving lower.

His hands never cease their movement, both steadying in ther strength yet infuriating in the way the flit about, never staying in one place for too long and never seeming to touch you where you want him most.

A gasp slips past your lips as his thumb brush just below your breasts, and you squeeze his shoulders sharply. “Just…touch me, Halsin. Kiss me, touch me, fuck me just- please-“ Your words end on a moan as he places a particularly sharp bite to your shoulder. “Just do something, anything.”

Faster than you can blink, Halsin has you on your back beneath him, the furs that make up the tents floor soft beneath against you.

“Careful, my heart,” Halsin warns, voice low. “Your presence alone tests my control, but with words like that I cannot promise I will be able to contain it.”

You fist the fabric of Halsin’s shirt in your hands where they rest on his sides, trying to pull him impossibly closer from where he hovers over you.

“Then lose it,” you gasp, rolling your hips up into his own in search of some - any kind - of friction. “I just want you, I don’t care how. Just, please…”

That word, the one that’s already fallen from your lips several times tonight, finally reaches the man above you. His mouth is on you as soon as he hears it and you don’t bother to fight back the sounds that fall from your lips as he starts a path down your body.

The heat that started after you drank the potion feels like molten lava beneath your skin, and Halsin’s lips are doing little to douse the fire. Teeth scrape at the tender flesh of your chest before moving lower, as if he’s as desperate to touch you as you are.

After what feels like an eternity, his nose brushes the waistband of your pants, and before you can so much as think about begging, his hands are already taking them off, taking your underwear with them.

Halsin is an experienced and thorough lover, typically drawing things out to give you both the most pleasure possible. Tonight, however, he must take mercy on you. Because the moment your trousers are tossed to the side, his mouth is on you.

You almost come right there, the second you feel his tongue on you, drinking in your arousal. It’s like electricity shoots through you, and you can’t suppress the cry that falls from your lips, your hands shooting down to tangle in his hair.

Thick fingers dig into your thighs, keeping your hips pressed to the floor and his lips against your center.

You can’t stop writhing against him as his tongue presses against your clit teasing that bundle of nerves as one hand starts to slide downwards, fingers slipping through your folds to press against your entrance.

“Ah, Halsin-“ His name is like a prayer on your lips, begging him to keep touching you, afraid of what will happen if he doesn’t.

Your lover praises your plea with action, finally pressing two fingers into your warm heat. Normally, he would have to work you up to this, but with how wet you are and what you assume to be the work of the potion, he faces no resistance.

Immediately, stars erupt behind your eyes, and you are catapulted off the edge. Your climax comes on so suddenly it steals your breath away, your back arching upwards as your body fights to get closer to the source of your pleasure. It’s as if the potion has made every nerve ending more sensitive. Euphoria washes over you, and Halsin coaxes you through the tumultuous waves, lapping at you until you feel there’s nothing left.

It feels like there is not enough air to fill your lungs as you lay panting on the floor, a pitiful whine escaping your lips as Halsin pulls his fingers from you.

You watch through half-lidded eyes as he licks your spend from himself before your head falls back onto the soft furs.

Warm lips press to the inside of your leg before traveling upwards again, leaving barely-there kisses to your hips, then your stomach, then upwards still. His slow ascent gives you just enough time to gather your senses once more, just enough to realize that it’s still there.

That need. The fire beneath your skin. Even if it’s slightly dulled, you can feel the flames growing once more.

Halsin presses his lips to the valley of your breasts, then your collarbone, reaching your neck before you can gather enough words to speak.

“Gods,” you groan, arms moving to wrap around his shoulders as he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips, a breathy chuckle brushing over your cheek.

“I told you it was a potent mixture,” he says, voice full of amusement as he settles between your thighs.

It’s then, as you struggled to pull him closer, that you realize he’s still fully clothed. You paw at his shirt, your arousal growing hot in your belly once more.

“Off.”

Halsin can’t help but laugh again, kissing away the frown that tugs at your lips.

“As my lady commands.”

In a flash of that all too familiar druidic magic, his clothes are gone, leaving him blissfully bare above you.

Despite the need coursing through you, you can’t stop the way your eyes trail over him. The muscles rippling in his shoulders as he adjusts his position, the dark hair dusting his chest, the way his hair falls over his shoulders as he gazes down at you.

Taking his face in your hands, you lean up to capture his lips in a desperate kiss - one he returns eagerly.

He dips lower, his forearms resting beside your head as he moves to press flush against you. A moan escapes you, his body fitting perfectly against your own. You can feel him, hot and heavy against your core, can sense the way he tries to restrain himself but fails as his hips rut against you.

Halsin pulls away from your lips, chest heaving with ragged breaths as he presses his forehead to yours. You watch the slight grimace in his face as his eyes flicker open and a flash of gold overtakes them before disappearing.

The beast.

Gods, if you weren’t desperate for him the way his now, you’d tell him to let go. Beg for him to devour you like you know he’s able. But you don’t, instead you wrap your legs around his waist as fingers dig into his back.

“Halsin please, I can’t wait another moment, just-” A whine escapes from your throat as he rolls his hips again, teasing your clit as he pressed harder against you.

“Take me.”

He needs no more encouragement, lining himself up before thrusting into you in one fluid motion. Your body gives way to him with ease, taking him to the hilt in one thrust that pushes the air from your lungs.

You dig your heels into him, begging him to move as words escape you, a request he complies with eagerly. His thrusts are firm, and soon he’s built up a steady rhythm that brushes against that devastating spot inside you each time.

His head falls to the crook of your neck, kissing just below your ear and nipping the delicate skin with blunt teeth.

“I am not ashamed to say I have fantasized about this,” Halsin breathes, voice ragged as he continues to move against you, arms slipping beneath your shoulders to wrap you in a snug embrace.

“I imagined what it would be like having you like this beneath me, writhing and needy just as you are now.”

His words spark something within you, increasing the pleasure pooling in your belly and forcing a moan from your lips again. “Halsin…”

He lets out a groan of his own at the sound of his name on your lips, and suddenly your world is spinning as he hauls you up from the floor. He’s on his knees now, you in his lap as he continues to thrust up into you, arms wrapped securely around your body to keep you pressed flush against him.

The new angle allows him to press deeper, sending shocks of pleasure that have your fingers tingling and toes curling as you sag against him.

A firm hand settles at the back of your head, cradling it gently as his lips brush your ear.

“But in my dreams, it’s not just you who’ve consumed the elixir. Instead, we both indulge.” A kiss is pressed to your cheek, arms tightening around you as his thrusts become more frantic and that familiar coil in your core starts to pull taut.

“The potion works as it’s designed, making us crave each other to the point of lust-addled passion. The craving is so strong that all control is lost and there is nothing but pure pleasure as we claim each other.”

Gods, his words are pure fuel to the fire within you, creating images you don’t dare to push away. Fingers dig into his back, your nails no doubt leaving marks on his tanned skin as you cry out.

“Halsin, please, I’m close, I-“ A strangled moan leaves your lips as one of his hands works its way between your bodies to tease your clit.

“Come for me, my heart,” Halsin says, his voice a whispered command against your skin. “Let me hear my name on your lips once more.”

All it takes is one more press of his hips for you to obey. The coil snaps and you are falling once again into unadulterated bliss, Halsin’s name flowing from your lips like a mantra.

He works you through your climax as he chases his own end, a few more harsh thrusts before he’s filling you with a groan, then going still against you.

Slowly, ever so gently, he leans forward, laying you amongst the furs before following suit.

You wince slightly as he moves away from you, but quickly settled into the arms he offers you, cheek against his damp chest and one leg thrown over his own as you press against his side.

Exhaustion tugs at every part of your being, but despite being blissed out and spent, you can still feel that smoldering ember in your belly, unsure if it is the pleasure still waning or the potion waiting to be flamed once more.

“Is it…how long does it take for it to wear off?” you ask softly, tongue heavy in your parched mouth.

Halsin hums and you can feel the vibrations against your cheek as he reaches up to place a hand against your forehead.

“You are still running hot,” he observes before dropping his hand to rub soothingly up your arm. “This particular mixture does not wane quickly,” he tells you, a tinge of apology in his voice. “It may be well into sunrise before it completely leaves your system.”

He smiles then, an action you see solely because his words cause you to look up at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. “That long?”

Halsin laughs, nodding and pulling you against him again. “It is a powerful concoction. However,” he pauses, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, “it is gracious enough to give you brief respites. So, sleep now, my heart, and when the tendrils of desire pull you from your slumber I will be here waiting.”

Your eyes are already slipping closed as he speaks, your limbs resting heavily against him as he holds you close.

And as you drift off to sleep you can’t help the eagerness that stirs in your chest for what awaits when you wake.

Tags:

@daedriclys

#halsin x reader #bg3 x reader #halsin bg3 #bg3

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hxxsxxng · 3 months

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ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE KINKS

MINORS DNI

Genre:….. self explanatory by the title

Contents: i don’t want to spoil it

SUPPORT BY REBLOGGING if you want

heeseung - breeding kink

i am not lying when i say heeseung LOVES to pump you full of his cum. seeing your thighs turn white when it spills out of your cunt is his biggest weakness. DEFINITELY likes it messy.

he bent you over the kitchen counter and fucked you senseless. his cock slid in and out so easily with how wet he had made you. using your hips for mobility, he would pound deeper into your pussy, brushing your cervix, making you cry out with how good he was making you feel. when he felt himself almost reach his peak, he lifted one of your legs up onto the counter and filled you with his warm seed. “i love seeing you stuffed full with my cum, baby girl” he turns your head to whisper into your ear. he pulls out and admires the white painting he created.

jay- choking

jay would take any chance he could get to wrap his hands around your precious neck while y’all are fucking. your inability to form words while you are in his grip is so attractive to him.

he always put you in missionary for the sole purpose that it was the easiest to choke you in that position. your legs resting around his waist, with his hips ramming into your thighs. he slid his hand from around your waist up to your neck and grips it, pulling your face closer to his. he looks directly into your eyes “you look so fucking hot taking my dick like this” he says while slamming your head back into the mattress, hands remaining around your throat.

jake- begging

jake kind of has an inflated ego when it comes to fucking you specifically, because you make it very clear that he makes you feel good. he loves when you practically get on your knees and beg for his cock.

your eyes were admiring jake for a little too long once he got out of the shower. “staring problem” he teases. “oh n-no” you stammered. “hmm sure”. your eyes were burning holes into him and he could feel it. he walked over to the bed and planted a few kisses on your neck, his hot breath made your legs tense, creating friction between your thighs. “need me that badly already” he mocks. he pulled away to continue his after shower routine. “no come back” you pleaded. “please?” he corrects …. “yes please, i need you now”

sunghoon- edging

hoon could have sex for hours. he loves torturing you by not letting you cum. he lets it all build up over maybe 10 almost peaks, then let’s you release all the tension at once, making music to his ears.

his tongue was dancing across your pretty clit, having two of his long fingers inside of you. curving his finger up, pressing against your sensitive spot. you gripped his silky black hair, making him groan. the vibration made you feel all the better. you throw your head back in pleasure “hoon… i’m about to cum”. he pulls his wet fingers out of you and pulls his tongue away. “not yet you aren’t”.

#enhypen #enhypen niki #enhypen sunoo #heeseung #heeseung smut #jungwon #kpop #stray kids #enhypen x reader #enhypen jungwon #sunghoon #jay park #park jay #jake sim #sim jaeyun

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 11 months

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Writing Advice #?: Don’t write out accents.

The Surface-Level Problem: It’s distracting at best, illegible at worst.

The following passage from Sons and Lovers has never made a whit of sense to me:

“I ham, Walter, my lad,’ ’e says; ‘ta’e which on ’em ter’s a mind.’ An’ so I took one, an’ thanked ’im. I didn’t like ter shake it afore ’is eyes, but ’e says, ‘Tha’d better ma’e sure it’s a good un. An’ so, yer see, I knowed it was.’”

There’s almost certainly a point to that dialogue — plot, character, theme — but I could not figure out what the words were meant to be, and gave up on the book. At a lesser extreme, most of Quincey’s lines from Dracula (“I know I ain’t good enough to regulate the fixin’s of your little shoes”) cause American readers to sputter into laughter, which isn’t ideal for a character who is supposed to be sweet and tragic. Accents-written-out draw attention to mechanical qualities of the text.

Solution #1: Use indicators outside of the quote marks to describe how a character talks. An Atlanta accent can be “drawling” and a London one “clipped”; a Princeton one can sound “stiff” and a Newark one “relaxed.” Do they exaggerate their vowels more (North America) or their consonants more (U.K., north Africa)? Do they sound happy, melodious, frustrated?

The Deeper Problem: It’s ignorant at best, and classist/racist/xenophobic at worst.

You pretty much never see authors writing out their own accents — to the person who has the accent, the words just sound like words. It’s only when the accent is somehow “other” to the author that it gets written out.

And the accents that we consider “other” and “wrong” (even if no one ever uses those words, the decision to deliberately misspell words still conveys it) are pretty much never the ones from wealthy and educated parts of the country. Instead, the accents with misspelled words and awkward inflection are those from other countries, from other social classes, from other ethnicities. If your Maine characters speak normally and your Florida characters have grammatical errors, then you have conveyed what you consider to be correct and normal speech. We know what J.K. Rowling thinks of French-accented English, because it’s dripping off of Fleur Delacour’s every line.

At the bizarre extreme, we see inappropriate application of North U.K. and South U.S.-isms to every uneducated and/or poor character ever to appear in fan fic. When wanting to get across that Steve Rogers is a simple Brooklyn boy, MCU fans have him slip into “mustn’t” and “we is.” When conveying that Robin 2.0 is raised poor in Newark, he uses “ain’t” and “y’all” and “din.” Never mind that Iron Man is from Manhattan, or that Robin 3.0 is raised wealthy in Newark; neither of them ever gets a written-out accent.

Solution #2: A little word choice can go a long way, and a little research can go even further. Listen carefully to the way people talk — on the bus, in a café, on unscripted YouTube — and write down their exact word choice. “We good” literally means the same thing as “no thank you,” but one’s a lot more formal than the other. “Ain’t” is a perfectly good synonym for “am not,” but not everyone will use it.

The Obscure Problem: It’s not even how people talk.

Look at how auto-transcription software messes up speaking styles, and it’s obvious that no one pronounces every spoken sound in every word that comes out of their mouth. Consider how Americans say “you all right?”; 99% of us actually say something like “yait?”, using tone and head tilt to convey meaning. Politicians speak very formally; friends at bars speak very informally.

An example: I’m from Baltimore, Maryland. Unless I’m speaking to an American from Texas, in which case I’m from “Baltmore, Marlind.” Unless I’m speaking to an American from Pennsylvania, in which case I’m from “Balmore, Marlin.” If I’m speaking to a fellow Marylander, I’m of course from “Bamor.” (If I’m speaking to a non-American, I’m of course from “Washington D.C.”) Trying to capture every phoneme of change from moment to moment and setting to setting would be ridiculous; better just to say I inflect more when talking to people from outside my region.

When you write out an accent, you insert yourself, the writer, as an implied listener. You inflict your value judgments and your linguistic ear on the reader, and you take away from the story.

Solution #3: When in doubt, just write the dialogue how you would talk.

#writing #writing advice #accents #fan fiction #classism #language #u.s.-centric af because I've only lived so many places

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sardonic-the-writer · 8 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: scout, engineer, heavy, medic, sniper, and spy (i forgot demo i'm so sorry)

↳ warnings: bad translations, slight mentions of world war two and malpractice

↳ song: with a little help from my friends—joe cocker

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐭

• He would be so smug about it

• Puffing his chest out and everything

• His friends in the past- and even family members -have teased him for mispronouncing words or speaking too fast, and it’s made him a bit self conscious about the way he talks. But after hearing that you find it endearing, its a giant ego boost for him

• “Yeah dat’s right! Who’s awesome? I’m awesome!” Scout smiles as he flexes his arms in your face, subjecting you to what he likes to call a surprise gun show. You pretend to hate it as you shove his arm away, but chuckle all the same

• He’s already gloated before that he already knew his accent was the best. Boston is the greatest place in the world after all! But hearing it from you really just sent him over the moon

• Makes a point to talk to you a lot more now; as if he didn’t already

• “Yo! Hey did you see that kill out there? I totally messed dat Spy up! One wrong step and pow! He’s dead meat!”

• “I saw Scout. I was covering your flank while you did it, remember?”

• “Yeah yeah, but I just thought you’d like ta hear about it again.”

𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫

• Didn’t consider himself to have an accent until you pointed him out

• Sure, he says the occasional y’all and ain’t, but not enough to qualify as a whole different way of speaking

• It wasn’t until he dropped a hammer on his foot and cursed that he understood what you’d meant

• “What in the sam hill! Sweet hell!” He’d exclaimed, startled. Once the throbbing in his leg had subsided, Engineer replayed his words in his head, making a slight o with his mouth as he realized you were probably right. To some extent at least

• He was a born and raised Texas boy, so it makes sense that the culture rubbed off

• Doesn’t understand at first that you find it nice. Maybe he thought you pointed it out just because you could? He’s a bit distracted when it comes to anything but machinery, so he misses context sometimes

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲

• Surprised that someone like you who can speak English fluently finds his mannerisms attractive

• Gets frustrated sometimes when he can’t remember certain words in English. Heavy is a very smart man, so it aggravates him when he looks illiterate in front of his team

• That’s why hearing that you like his mother tongue caught him by surprise

• “But you don’t know any Russian?” He’d rumbled out as a question. When you shook your head no, still sporting a smile, his eyebrows furrowed further

• “Nah. But I like hearing it when it comes from you. It sounds more natural. Like you’re more comfortable than normal, you know?”

• You’re technically right. When Heavy slips into Russian, often whilst talking to Sasha or simply forgetting that not everyone on the team know how to speak it, he is more comfortable in his words. They flow better, and he’s flattered that you’ve noticed

• One hundred percent offers to teach you Russian in his spare time. He finds it slightly adorable how you stumble over words in your broken translations, but always manages to softly correct you

• He’s a really good teacher

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜

• Positively thrilled that you like his voice

• When you tell him for the first time, he goes into shock for a moment before breaking out into the biggest smile you’ve seen. Somehow its a perfect balance between excited and malicious

• “Do you hear zhat Archemedies? Mein freund here enjoys my accent!” He cooes at his bird, chuckling in a way that would make anyone’s insides squirm

• Once you look past Medic’s initially devious reaction, it’s very clear he enjoys knowing this

• If anything, the ex-doctor would have thought that you’d enjoy the more stereotypically romantic sounding languages. Spanish, Latin, etc

• German has always been considered harsh or scary sounding, and it turned a lot of people away from hiring him after the events of World War Two, which he understood. Still, Medic finds himself absolutely tickled that you are drawn to his accent

• Finds himself slipping more and more into German while doing checkups on you now. When he catches himself, he translates most of what’s he’s said back to you. But sometimes he’ll simply forget, and it leaves you wondering if he’s offered you a glass of water or the opportunity to swap your bladder out

• You sincerely hoped it was the former

𝐒𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

• Oh my god you killed him

• Sniper is very reserved. Living in his camper, hunting his own game for dinner instead of joining the others, literally pissing in jars, etc etc

• Being a man of few words comes part and parcel with that; which normally works out just find because Scout talks enough for ten people

• Hasn’t said much to you before. He mostly communicates in head nods or slight tilts of his coffee mug in your direction. Maybe a few ‘good mornin’s’ tossed around, but nothing more than that

• “You know, you should talk more.” You’d said to him one day while pouring a fresh pot of tea you had just boiled into your own mug. He preferred black coffee himself, but whatever floats your boat

• “You voice.” You elaborated after a sip. You must have noticed his confused look as you carried on. “It’s nice. Can’t imagine that you don’t have gals throwing themselves at you all the time because of it.”

• Suddenly very grateful he wasn’t drinking any of his brew at the time, because what you said surely would have made him choked

• He, in fact, had had a few ladies approach him in town before saying something along the same lines. Even a few fellas. But nothing made him blanch this strongly like you had

• Excuses himself as he walks out of the room suddenly, tilting his hat down to cover his face no one can see the furious red tint forming

• Sniper leaves you in the communal kitchen. Holding a steaming cup of liquid and looking very confused

𝐒𝐩𝐲

• Already knew before you told him

• To anyone else, it would have been passible as just curiosity. But Spy’s job is to know things, and it is an undeniable fact that you found his voice attractive

• Doesn’t utilize this weapon often. You are not a weak willed person swayed by just a few words, so when he needs something he pulls out all the stops

• Of course, that doesn’t stop him from being impressed when you eventually admit your little not-so-secret-secret to him. And of your own free will. He didn’t have to pry it out of you, which was a feat on its own

• Much like Heavy, he extends the offer of teaching you how to learn his language. Now that he no longer has this knowledge as a bargaining chip, he might as well seize the opportunity to teach you a proper language

• Considers using electroshock therapy to condition you faster, but nixes it pretty quick

• Again, like Heavy, he finds it cute how horrible you are at French. More amused than anything, but he can appreciate the way you practice verbs in your free time even when he isn’t leaning over your shoulder

• That you know of, that is

• Praises you often in french, letting excited phrases slip when you nail a particularly hard set of words

• “Merveilleux ! Tu t’améliores beaucoup, ma petite. Encore une fois.”

• While you don’t understand the full extent to his words, you smile and continue on, eventually realizing what he had said later in a fit of embarrassment

1K notes · View notes

munsonslove · 2 years

Note

Hi! I love you writing and I was wondering if you could write a fic we’re Eddie and the reader kinda have like a frenemies vibe going on and then one day they sleep together but Eddie has no idea the reader is a virgin because of people saying stories about her and then they sleep together and he finds out after they did it??

Can I Kiss You?

(18+ only)

a/n: thanks so much for the request, & thank you everyone for 1k followers!!! i’m so happy people are liking my little stories <3 a few notes: reader is dustin’s older sister in this fic, but i make it a point to say that she was adopted, so you can def read this as not white reader still. i also briefly mention the reader’s birth parents passing away when she was very young, so tw for family death. and there’s a part where it’s said that the reader’s last name isn’t henderson (because she kept her original surname after being adopted) so if anyone’s reading this and your irl last name is henderson… just like pretend it’s not for a sec? oh also i hid a taylor swift lyric in here. first person to find it wins! anyways i hope y’all like it!!

summary: Your little brother's annoying DM is always hanging around and trying to bother you. Embarrassingly, you developed a crush on him, you were just too proud to do anything about it.

wordcount: 7.3k

tags/warnings: fem!virgin!reader (18+ and a high school graduate), also adopted!henderson!reader, slight mention of family death, fluff, smut, friends/frenemies to lovers, praise kink, fingering (f receiving), descriptions of masturbation (both f and m receiving), use of pet names (baby, princess), unprotected p in v penetration (she’s on the pill, use condoms irl of course), no use of y/n

“He’s not here,” you deadpan with a roll of your eyes as you open the front door. You weren’t expecting any visitors, so when you heard knocking you were quick to find a makeshift weapon before seeing who it was. Your paranoia diminished when you saw it was merely your little brother's DM.

“I’d be tempted to say ‘how do you know I’m not here to see you?’, but that lamp in your hands has me second guessing myself,” Eddie replies with a laugh, pushing past you to enter your home without permission. “You gonna attack me, princess? Didn’t know you found me that annoying.”

“I’m a young woman home alone, and a lot of really strange things happen in this town,” you explain, setting the lamp back down on the end table. “Sue me for being defensive.”

He shakes off his backpack and tosses on the floor. “Better safe than sorry I guess,” he agrees, though you can hear his amused smirk in his tone. “Why you home alone? Your mom got a hot date or something?”

“Book club,” you correct him while crossing your arms, “And Dustin’s sleeping over at the Wheeler’s.”

Eddie hums in response, licking his lips as he looks you up and down. “Cute pajamas,” he says, winking at you.

At his comment, you realize with a start that your robe had fallen open, and crossing your arms only accentuated the suggestive low cut of your silk nightie. Quickly scrambling to cover yourself and retie the knot, you frustratedly grumble, “What are you even doing here? Dustin didn’t say anything about you coming over.”

He flops down on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and settling into the well-worn cushions, making himself at home. “He talked me into letting him DM for a campaign, so I thought I’d stop by with my copy of the Dungeon Master’s Guide. He was bitching about only having the Player’s Handbook and Monster Manual, so…” he trails off with a shrug as he leans forward to snatch the remote to the TV from next to his boot.

“Get your dirty shoes off of my mother’s clean furniture,” you scold before physically grabbing his ankles and forcing his feet to the floor. “Can you at least pretend to have manners?”

“I could try, but then you wouldn’t have a crush on me anymore,” he laughs, then hooks one of his fingers into the belt of your robe, pulling you down to be seated next to him. He rests his arm on the back of the couch behind your shoulders, not reacting when you retort with a curt ‘In your dreams.’

You know that logistically you could make him leave- this was your home, after all- but the possibility of him actually going without protest was very low. It seemed like Eddie’s favorite thing in the world was annoying you, and sometimes you find yourself missing the days back when he barely acknowledged your existence. He was originally two years ahead of you in school, but due to him being held back twice he ended up being a part of your graduating class. You didn’t run in the same crowd, in fact you couldn’t have been further out of each other’s social spheres. You were quite popular, invited to many parties, even won prom queen your senior year. Eddie, on the other hand, only showed up at parties to sell drugs, and didn’t attend prom for any of his senior years.

When your little brother entered high school, you worried about him being bullied. You were aware that most of the school’s population were under the impression that Dungeon and Dragons was a devil worshiping cult, and the Hellfire club along with it. Having been exposed to the game for so long thanks to Dustin’s nerdy interests, you knew better than what the propaganda surrounding D&D tried to peddle to the public, but you held concerns that your status-obsessed ‘friends’ wouldn’t be so easily convinced otherwise. Popularity was never something you sought out, it just came naturally to you, and while it was nice always having weekend plans there was no way in hell you were going to let anyone give your baby brother and his friends any shit. If sticking up for your family made the ‘cool kids’ at school not want to have you in their clique, then that was fine by you. To your surprise, everyone seemed to get the message loud and clear that Dustin and his band of misfits were off limits bullying-wise, and you were able to stay relatively well liked by your peers.

The first time you stood up for Dustin, it was a few weeks into his freshman year in the hallway before first period. One of the guys from the basketball team was giving him a hard time, and you marched right up to the meathead jock and shoved him away. You made sure to get your point across that if you ever saw him fucking with your brother again that you weren’t afraid to fight back. The opposing boy cowered away, not expecting one of the most popular girls at Hawkins to so adamantly defend who he considered a ‘nerd’. Word traveled fast, and by lunchtime the hottest gossip was how you sucker-punched Damian Smith square in the jaw outside of Mrs. Hackett’s classroom this morning. It wasn’t true by a long shot, but you found it rather amusing how much the story got twisted when there were so many witnesses. That day was also the first time you spoke to Eddie.

He had cornered you in the cafeteria, and was attempting to use his ‘bad boy, outcast’ demeanor to intimidate you into leaving Dustin alone. Some of the cheerleaders got the attention of their boyfriends, and pretty soon a group had gathered to see why someone at the bottom of the food chain was messing with you. You called them off with a wave of your hand, then took Eddie’s arm to drag him out into the hall and figure out what the hell he was talking about. He clearly had the wrong idea, because he was telling you off about ‘pretending to stand up for the nerdy freshmen’ and how he ‘knew this was part of some elaborate prank’.

He had no idea you were Dustin’s sister. It made sense, you didn’t look all that similar and you didn’t even share a last name. Your biological parents were family friends of the Hendersons, and they died when you were fairly young. You were legally adopted by your godmother, and were raised as a member of the family. Most everyone who you’ve told has tried to console you after learning the truth, and while it is sad that you didn’t get to grow up with your birth mother and father, you know you were lucky to be a Henderson (by love, not by name). Family is family, even if there’s no blood relation, and that’s exactly what you told Eddie. You let him know that he could accuse you of being one of those airheads whose main concern is how many pages of the yearbook they make it on, but that wasn’t going to stop you from beating the shit out of anyone who tried to give your brother a hard time.

With Eddie becoming a close friend of Dustin’s, even somewhat of a role model (much to your dismay), you saw him pretty often. He was always finding excuses to come over, and you suspected it had something to do with his new life mission of bothering you at every waking moment. The two of you didn’t hate each other per se, on the contrary you actually always secretly enjoyed spending time with the metalhead, despite your differences. That being said, your rapport consisted mainly of jestful bantering, constantly trying to have the one-up in the exchange. You both finished high school together, he actually gave you a ride to graduation (not without a snide comment on the length of your dress, prompting a middle finger from you). Now you were taking a gap year before college and he was staying in Hawkins to focus on his music, the plan being to move to Indianapolis when the final member of Corroded Coffin graduated. With the freedom awarded by not attending Hawkins anymore- from both the stressful preparation for another four years of school and the pressure to stick to the status quo- you found yourself spending a lot of downtime with Eddie. You’re not quite sure either of you would readily call the other a friend, but maybe relationship labels were overrated. All you knew was that if Dustin was hitching a ride home, you could count on Eddie’s van being parked in the driveway for at least a couple hours while he berated you inside.

Lately though, the playful bickering between you two morphed into what almost felt like flirting. Eddie seemed to be laying it on thicker and thicker each time he came to see you, as if he was testing the waters for how much he could get away with without you getting upset. What he didn’t know, however, was that you’ve been harboring a secret crush on him for a while now. After actually getting to know him through the excuse of you both caring about Dustin, you came to the realization that he’s not all bad like his reputation.

Eddie switches on the TV, turning it to your favorite channel without asking and setting the remote back down on the table. It’s the little gestures like these that have you falling harder for him everyday. You lose your train of thought getting lost in fantasies of doing exactly this with him, only while being able to call him your boyfriend. You’re ripped back to reality when his arm shifts from the back of the couch to actually over your shoulders. His face doesn’t show any sign that he thinks of this as overly intimate, so you try to not let any reaction show.

Some hours pass this way, and you wonder how long Eddie plans to stay for. You silently pray that your neighbors won’t say anything to your mom about his van parked in the driveway, but even if they do, the tingling you felt in your chest was well worth it- and besides, no matter what she said, you were an adult. Just as you're thinking this, Eddie stands to pick his bag up off of the floor, slipping the books he brought out onto the coffee table, before zipping it back up and holding it awkwardly in his hands.

“I guess I should probably get going,” he says with a shrug, “It’s getting late, and your mom will be home soon.”

“She said they were going to drink wine,” you respond. “You know Claudia, she wouldn’t drive after having even a sip. She’s going to sleep on her friend’s couch.”

“Oh,” he says, his eyes lighting up a little before he purses his lips and looks out the window. “Well, it’s pretty dark out now. I don’t wanna keep you up…”

There’s a brief pocket of silence, neither of you wanting to be the one to suggest what you’re thinking for fear of the other not returning the same feeling. You don’t want your disappointment at the idea of him not staying to be too evident, but you’re not sure how convincing you’re being. Your gaze drops down to his pretty lips, distracted by how he’s biting them, and wishing you could bite them instead. Faintly, so faintly you’re almost unsure if you even really heard it, he speaks your name, bringing your attention back to his eyes. You watch as he gathers the courage for his next words.

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s like time stops. You resist the urge to squeal like a little girl with a crush, but that is exactly how you feel. Slowly, you nod your head before moving your lips to say, ‘Yes,’ though no sound escapes you. He drops the bag, and kicks it out of the way when it lands at his feet before taking long strides toward you. The both of you lean forward, and he tilts his head slightly to make room for your noses. His breath fans your lips as he hesitates to close the distance. Impatient after months of pining, you grab him by the zipper of his jacket and finally do what you’ve been dreaming about for so long.

His lips are as soft as they look, and you conclude that your theory about his chapstick addiction is correct. With as much as he smokes (medicinal or otherwise), he must moisturize them pretty often. He actually tastes very faintly of tobacco, and you remember how he said he was trying to quit and only smoked cigarettes when he was jittery. You wonder if that meant that you make him as nervous as he makes you. The dirty taste was thankfully mostly covered up by a strong minty flavor, and that only makes you wonder even more, this time about if he also obsesses over little detail when he knows he’s going to see you. Whenever Dustin would inform you Eddie was on his way over, you would find yourself primping in front of the mirror, making sure your hair fell in place just the right way and your skin was clear of any blemishes. You even did this before you fully understood your feelings for the man were romantic. Picturing him having the afterthought to pop a mint before driving over to see you had you smiling against his lips.

“What?” he laughs, pulling away from you slightly and raising an eyebrow with both curiosity and amusement.

“Nothing,’ you reply, giggling softly. “Just thinking.”

“Oh? What about?” he asks, leaning in once again to peck you chastely before simply resting his forehead against your and gazing into your eyes. He walks you backwards, back to the couch and sits, pulling you down next to him.

You shake your head, still smiling. Your mind was racing a mile a minute and it was too much to explain, especially when the only thing you wanted was for him to kiss you silly. “Not now. Just come here,” you whisper as you thread your fingers through his hair and push yourself flush against him, ending up fully sat in his lap with his hands gripping your thighs.

You two last like this for a while, (mostly) innocently kissing, just enjoying the feeling of finally giving into temptation. Pretty soon, Eddie’s touch begins to roam, and your hips begin to rock. It was very quickly crossing the line from PG-13 to R. When you feel his cock harden beneath you, you make up your mind about what you want to happen.

“Eddie,” you moan while his tongue circles a bite mark he left on your neck, soothing the sting. He dismisses the sound, lost in his own world as his hands find purchase on your butt, assisting your movements against him. “Eddie,” you try again, shaking his shoulders slightly.

He immediately slides his hands up to a more modest area on your waist, and he lifts his head away from your neck to look at you. His pupils are blown wide, and his hair is wild. “Yeah, baby?” he says, sounding out of breath.

“Do you want to go to my room?” you ask. You can tell by the way he glances back down at your lips, then to your thighs, and finally back up to your eyes, that he knows exactly what you are implying.

“A- are you sure?” he forces out, barely believing what he’s hearing.

“I’m sure,” you confirm. “I’m ready.”

You’re both hurrying down the hallway, nearly tripping over each other’s feet in your haste. The walk to your bedroom is short, but after putting off the inevitable for so long, you can barely wait and have to resist jumping his bones before reaching your destination. Throwing open the door, he ushers you inside and shuts it behind him.

Eddie’s heavy leather jacket thuds as it hits the floor, his shirt being discarded soon after. Your mouth waters at the sight of his tattoos, but you barely have time to admire his partial nudity. He’s on top of you in a flash, pressing you into the wall and kissing you passionately. His curious hands rake over your body, and their wandering loosen the knot on your robe’s belt, causing the thick fabric to open slightly and expose your collarbone. Like a man starved, Eddie’s lips never lose contact with you as he rips the tie from your body, almost making you fall with the force behind it. He steadies you with his hands back on your waist, this time underneath the robe, and you can feel his touch so much better with only the thin silk of your nightgown between you. Shrugging the robe off, he helps you pull it down your arms before tossing it onto your carpet, and the cold air of your bedroom is fought off by his body warmth invading every inch of you.

“Do you want this as much as I do?” he whispers gravelly after parting his lips from yours.

He doesn’t need to clarify what exactly he wants, because you want it all with him. “I do,” you confirm.

He leads you over to your bed, a queen-sized four-poster, still unmade from this morning. You climb on top and turn to face him while sitting on your knees. He looms over you, standing at the foot of the bed with you kneeling on the mattress in front of him. His pretty eyes darken as he looks down and takes in your form.

“God, I like you like this,” he laughs from above you, “Is this what I gotta do for you to shut your mouth?”

“You like my mouth” you shoot back, sitting up to reach him and tangling your hands in his curls. You make a fist, thus pulling his hair slightly.

He grunts as you tug on his locks, but doesn’t let the innuendo in your last comment go. “You do have a real nice mouth,” he says as he swipes his thumb against your bottom lip. Before he can retract his hand, you open your mouth and suck the digit into it, swirling your tongue around the tip while looking up at him from behind your eyelashes.

“Fuck, baby,” he brokenly breathes out.

The only thing you see in his eyes is pure unadulterated lust, and you feel your belly grow warmer at the thought of what he was going to do about it. He withdraws his hand only to place it on your neck, his palm on the front of your windpipe. He’s not applying any pressure, so you can’t call it choking, but just the implication of such a touch has arousal pooling in your underwear. His thumb is warm and wet on your throat, and when he trails his hand from your neck to the back of your head, the breeze of air on the leftover saliva makes your skin feel cool. Eddie drops his head and his lips meet yours once again, but only just barely making contact. You try to deepen the kiss, but he’s returned the favor of holding onto a tuft of your hair, making it impossible to press against him more firmly without your hair being pulled. He laughs at your cries of protest, but gives in, sucking on your bottom lip and nipping at it before licking his tongue past the threshold of your mouth.

Kissing like this isn’t the most comfortable, what with the springs of your mattress digging into your knees and your neck craning up to be able to reach Eddie, but you could stay in this position for hours if it meant he was going to keep touching you the way he was. The hand not tangled and tugging at your hair was sliding up your side, dragging the silk of your nightie up. He bunched the fabric up in a fist, which caused it to be lifted enough that your cotton panties were on display. You briefly worry about whether he was going to think the underwear you had on was sexy or not, considering it wasn’t silky or lacy like your nightgown was. It was just a simple and comfortable pair of navy blue panties with a white elastic waistband.

While you were busy overthinking, Eddie bent at his knees and kissed down your jaw, releasing your hair to raise the fabric on the other side of your nightie up to the same level, then backed away to pull it the rest of the way up over your head and off your body. You felt a little self conscious, bare chested in nothing but a pair of underwear that wasn’t even sexy. Your arms went to fold in front of you, but Eddie dropped the silk and grabbed your wrists, stopping you.

“Don’t cover yourself,” he whispers, his eyes glued to your body, “You’re so beautiful.”

Blood rushes to your head as you bite back a smile at his compliment. Any anxiety you previously felt about him judging you vanishes, and in its place comes even more need. Eddie tells you to lay down as he softly nudges your shoulder, and you do as he says with no contest. He hooks his fingers underneath the elastic of your panties before waiting for one last head nod from you. When you give the okay and lift your hips, he slowly pulls the fabric off of you, sucking in a breath when your bare pussy finally crosses his line of sight.

He crawls onto the bed and kisses up your torso, starting at your hip bone and making his way all the way up to your clavicle. The hard tent in his jeans rubs against the delicate skin of your inner thigh as he spends extra time marking up your neck, and you get impossibly wetter at the proof of the effect you have on him. When he pulls away, the mattress dips by both sides of your face due to him propping himself up by his arms. His legs bend as he sits up, successfully caging you in, and he takes a moment to just look at you.

“I’m gonna get you ready for me, okay baby?” he says quietly, one of his hands leaving their spot next to your head as he traces his fingertips lightly down the dip in between your breasts, over your belly button, and caresses your dripping slit.

“Yeah, okay,” you mutter out your consent. With your brain as cloudy as it was, you weren’t entirely sure what he was proposing, but you were at a point by now where you would agree to anything.

His middle digit slips easily past the soaked folds around your weeping hole, and he circles the entrance teasingly, collecting your juices before finally breaching, and just his fingertip enters into you. An embarrassing high pitched squeak escapes from your throat, and you raise yourself up onto your elbows to get a better look at what he’s doing to you.

“You wanna watch as I warm you up with my fingers, princess?” he croons at you sweetly. “It’s pretty, ain’t it?”

You take a deep gasp of air as his finger disappears further into you, his hands are bigger and tougher than your own, and the difference is very noticeable. He bends and straightens his wrist over and over, pumping in and out of you with ease, and the foreign feeling is strange yet pleasurable. Another finger slides inside, and he works them into you, opening you up. He’s determined to make the next step after this as satisfying for you as possible.

“You’re so wet and tight, baby. You’re gonna feel so good on my cock,” he practically mewls. There’s a wild look in his eyes, and it only steers you closer to your climax. “You want that, baby? You wanna make me feel good? Make me crave you all the time, even more than I already do?”

His words are slurring together as he rambles on about how perfect he knows your pussy is going to feel around him. For the life of you, you can’t form any response that isn’t loud moaning, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind one bit. You feel the build up inside of you start, and your entire body tenses involuntarily as you prepare for what you know will be a mind-blowing orgasm.

“Are you gonna cum? My princess is gonna cum?” he asks, and you nod your head to the best of your ability given that the muscles in your neck are locked up. “You’re squeezing my fingers so fucking tight, baby. Show me how pretty you are when you cum. Show me, and I promise I’ll fuck you so good, so right. I’ll fuck you as many times as you let me, and I’ll do it anyway you want. Hard, slow, soft, fast… Just show me how perfect my girl is when she’s cumming around my fingers and I’ll give you what you need”

His promises push you over the edge, and you finish while crying out his name. Literally, you feel moisture leak from your eyes as your head pushes into the pillow beneath you. Eddie leans forward to kiss away the tears, all while still fingering you, helping you to ride out your orgasm for as long as possible.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” you hear as you start to come back to the world. His hand slows down slightly, more focused on a deep and sensual rhythm, and you feel his hot breath on your temple as he continues to soothe you through your come down. “Did such a good job, sounded so pretty moaning my name, wanna make you make those sounds forever…”

He trails off as he pulls his hand away, and you both stare at his hand and watch how the light reflects off the glistening slick coating his fingers. He plunges them into his mouth, and groans around them at the taste as your jaw drops in disbelief. It was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. Still recovering from both your shock and intense orgasm, you grunt out in annoyance when Eddie rolls off of you and stands up. You’re about to complain at the loss of contact, until you realize his reason for doing so was to unbutton his jeans. You instantly rise. Your head feels dizzy from sitting up too fast, but you push through the lightheadedness in order to give your full attention to what was about to happen.

Eddie hurriedly moves to yank his tight jeans down his legs, stumbling slightly but regaining his balance enough to not fall, then succeeds pulling down the denim and kicking his legs out of it. His legs are pale- as could be suspected from wearing nothing but full length pants in Indiana- and they look rather soft. You want to reach your hand out and graze his calf to see if they’re as soft as they appear, or if looks are deceiving and his dark wisps of leg hair actually have a coarse texture. There’s no time to dwell on that instinct, as very soon after discarding his pants he follows his boxers with them, and you’re distracted by hair in another area.

Eddie’s cock springs to his stomach when he straightens up from pulling off his underwear. The sight of it both makes you want to spread your legs and squeeze your thighs together, but the choice is made for you when Eddie takes your knee with one of his hands and settles between your legs on the bed. His lips met yours as his shaft grazed your soaked lips, brushing against your clit and causing you to buck up into hip, but your hips are pinned down by his pelvis. The pressure allows some relief, but you crave more.

“Fuck me,” you beg, “Please fuck me, Eddie.” You sound pathetic even to yourself, but you’re far past the point of no return as far as shame goes.

“Do you have protection?” he asks, in between kisses. “I didn’t bring condoms. I didn’t think- I didn’t expect you to actually-”

“I’m on the pill,” you cut him off. “Just fuck me.”

“Oh my god,” he groans, “Are you sure, princess?”

“Please, Eds,” you whine, “I need you.”

“You need me, baby?” he smiles against you while you nod your head. His teeth clash with yours as you try to pull him somehow closer to you than he already is. “I know what you need. I’m gonna give it to you, don’t worry.”

He lifts himself up so that he can grasp the base of his shaft, and slides up and down your slit before he positions the head of his cock to be poking your entrance. There was a stinging sensation as he stretched you out, sinking in slowly inch by inch until you can’t take anymore and have to stop him.

“Too big?” he asks, and the tone of his voice leads you to believe he’s asking this with genuine concern rather than inflating his own ego. He really doesn’t want to hurt you.

“I just need a s- second,” you stutter out while adjusting your pelvis, trying to ease the dull ache.

“Take all the time you need,” he murmurs while pecking you on the tip of your nose. Your hand immediately flies up to guide his lips to your own, and the emotion behind the kiss distracts you from the tenseness you feel, allowing you to loosen up slightly.

“God,” he moans, “you feel even more perfect than I imagined.”

A smug smirk crosses your face and you lift an eyebrow at him. “So you’ve imagined?” you ask, tilting your head and chuckling.

“Don’t act you haven’t fucked yourself with those fingers of yours while calling out my name,” he responds with a challenging look, “I can just picture it now, your sheets all crumpled from you tossing and turning, your hands cramping up but you ignoring it cause you’re so desperate to cum. Tell me, princess, when we would hang out, how long would you wait after I left to run up here and start rubbing this pretty little clit.”

As he tortures you with these (very true) accusations, his right hand snakes its way in between your bodies to start playing with your clit. He touches the nub with the tip of his thumb, applying pressure before rolling it in gentle circles. It’s too much and not enough at the same time.

“I asked you a question, baby,” he says, his lips now moving against your jaw as you focus on relaxing and getting used to the feeling of him inside you. “You gonna be a good girl and answer me?”

His vulgar words combined with his hand’s actions send you a wave of slick arousal, and suddenly you’re ready, and you want him deeper. “Eddie,” you whine, “more.”

“Nuh-uh,” he mutters, not moving an inch and keeping that deviously slow pace with his fingers. “I wanna hear about you touching yourself, princess.”

“Ugh!” you groan, kicking your leg out like a kid throwing a tantrum. “Eddie! It’s embarrassing!”

“No it’s not,” he comforts you, his left hand stroking your cheekbone as he leans down to kiss you sweetly on the lips. “When I’m thinking of you, I like to go nice and slow at first…”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat as you realize what he’s about to do. He’s going to tell you about him getting off to dirty thoughts of you. It should disgust you to know the boy who was teasing you and picking little fights for the past almost two years has been fantasizing about you, but it only gets you going more. You force your eyes open to look at him, and he’s already staring deeply at you, his face showing no signs of mocking.

“I think about those pretty lips, so soft. I think about what they’d feel like on my skin, around my cock.” His unabashed admissions are doing nothing to help with how impatient you’re getting, but his fingers stop circling your clit when you try to slide down deeper onto his dick yourself.

“I know you want it baby, but I’m trying to talk to you,” he whispers, “You don’t wanna be rude, do you? You already wouldn’t answer my question.”

“Sorry,” you whimper weakly, hoping that if you play along he’ll hurry up.

“So sweet for me,” he says as his hand starts up again and he nips at the sensitive skin in the crook of your neck. “I knew you’d be sweet. I knew your tough girl act was a show. All the times you got mouthy and bratty with me, you just wanted to be my sweet, good girl.”

“I take off everything but my panties. And then I lay down in bed, with the fan on cause I get hot. And I start feeling up my stomach-”

He cuts you off with a chuckle. “What are you talking about, princess?”

You bang your head on the pillow and start squirming. “I’m answering your question,” you whimper, “You’re taking too long, Eddie, I need it!”

His fingers circle your clit fast and he finally, finally sinks the rest of the way in you, bottoming out and filling you up so deep and full. “Keep going,” he orders as he starts rocking in and out of you at such a cruelly slow rate. As if reading your mind, he adds on, “I’ll go faster if you keep going.”

“Fuck, Eds,” you moan out in ecstasy, your mind empty and only able to think about his cock and what he’s doing to you. But you want- no, need- him to go faster, so you summon every brain cell you have and force yourself to speak semi-coherently.

“I feel up my stomach til I get goosebumps, and I start massaging my tits and thinking about what it would feel like if it was your h-hands,” you start to stutter as his left hand mimics your descriptions, tickling your abdomen as it makes its way to your chest. “And while I did that, I would spit on my fingers a little bit then stick my hand in my underwear, and I would start rubbing my clit.”

“And you imagined it was me doing it?” he interrupts, now thrusting into you a little harder and a little deeper, his hand massaging your breast before taking a nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger and rolling it gently.

You nod your head, too lost in the feeling to answer verbally. He really started to pick up the speed now, hitting a spot in you that you were never quite able to reach on your own, and it’s so sinfully delicious that you feel like you’re going to black out from the intensity of the pleasure. He feels so perfect moving against you, the velvety skin of his cock merging so right with your inner walls. You chastise yourself for holding out for so long, if you had known how blissful it would be, you would have confessed the day you realized your feelings. The idea that you could have been doing this for nearly a year has you cursing whatever forces that kept you apart, though a bitter voice in the back of your head reminded you it was your own stubbornness.

“Then what do you do?” he urges you on.

“Um, I would stay like that for a little while,” you continue, finding it difficult to get your thoughts out into full sentences, “and then when I was close I would… um, like stop playing with my tits. So that I could use that hand to finger myself.”

“Fuck, princess. The way you describe it… I bet you look so pretty when you’re touching yourself,” he groans, now pummeling in and out of you in a steady, fast rhythm. His eyes keep switching between watching you and being scrunched closed, like he’s trying to focus on making this last but still wants to look at your face. “I wanna see it someday. Will you show me?”

“Yeah, mhm, sure,” you agree, not even really paying attention to what he was asking you due to being too lost in what you were experiencing. Your orgasm was near, and you wouldn’t be able to hold it off for much longer. “Eddie, I’m close,” you warn, your nails digging into his back as your arms tighten around his neck.

“Me too, baby,” he says back. The rocking of his hips combined with the closeness of his face caused his lips to brush against yours in a repeated pattern, and the intimacy of that only builds your climax up faster. “Where do you want it?”

Eddie Munson, the bane of your existence for the past couple of years is asking you where you want him to cum. “Inside,” you answer without thought. “Inside me, Eds, I wanna feel you leaking out of me.”

“Oh fuck. You can’t say shit like that to me. How am I supposed to keep living my life like normal after this?” he whines, “Are you gonna cum for me, baby? I want you to go first.”

As he finishes telling you this, the wire snaps and you feel electricity shoot throughout your body. Your second orgasm is much stronger than your first, and considering how the first one had you nearly losing consciousness, that was really saying something. The shockwaves make you feel like you’re literally vibrating around him, and being able to feel his dick twitching as he released his load into you only added to that feeling. You were a moaning mess, gasping in and puffing out little breaths of air as you hopelessly cry out, ‘I’m cumming, Eddie, you’re making me cum,’ along with assorted swears over and over and over. His grip on your waist loosened as he wrapped his arms around your middle and held on tight, burying his head into your neck as he rode out his own orgasm. He muttered something into your skin that you couldn’t quite make out with it being muffled, but it sounded suspiciously close to, ‘I love you,’ and your heart leapt at that possibility.

After a few minutes, after you both gathered yourselfs, he rolled over onto his back and you cuddled up to his side. Your head rested on his bare chest and your arms hugged around his stomach, pulling him as close as you could.

“So,” he starts, his arms folded behind his head and a crooked grin adorning his face, “was I the biggest you’ve taken, or does that happen with all the guys you bring home?”

You furrow your brows in confusion as you turn your head to look at him. “What do you mean?” you manage to mumble out.

“I mean, how tight you were. And how you couldn’t take all of me at first,” he says, like it was obvious.

“Well, in sex-ed they said the first time usually hurts. This wasn’t as bad as I was expecting though, just kinda stung a little bit at first,” you explain, laying your head flat against him once more and scraping at the nail on your index finger with your thumb.

Eddie stops moving and is quiet for a good thirty seconds. You start to feel a trickling of doubt, and become anxious that you somehow said the wrong thing. He reaches up to take your hand in his, effectively stopping your nervous finger picking and stealing your attention. When you glance back up at him he’s staring at you with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“Princess,” he says slowly, like somehow you were the one in this situation not making any sense, “You’re not telling me that was your first time.”

Oh. You suppose that was a pretty important tidbit of information you withheld that he probably would’ve liked to have known before you engaged in intercourse. In your defense, there was no reason for him to assume you weren’t a virgin. You only graduated high school the year prior, and during your time at Hawkins you never had a serious boyfriend. Even when you were being crowned prom queen, your date to the dance was James McKenna, and he came out as gay the week after graduation before moving to New York. Sure, you were privy to the rumors thrown around in the boy’s locker room about what you did to this guy under the bleachers and what you did to that guy at Skull Rock, but there was no more gossip surrounding you than the average cheerleader.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, suddenly feeling guilty for not being completely transparent. “I guess I just thought you knew, or like, would be able to tell?” you say, your intonation changing to a questioning lilt by the end of your sentence.

He starts blinking his wide eyes frantically, his head shaking in disbelief as he tries to think of what to say. That self conscious dread from earlier starts to sneak it’s way back in, and you begin having second thoughts, worrying if he- like your high school friends- thought it was weird that you waited to have sex. He must have noticed the fear in your eye, because he held you tighter against him and comfortingly rubbed up and down your forearm.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” he says, speaking quickly. “I guess I just assumed. I mean, you were so popular. Everyone wanted you, anyone would have been lucky to have you-” you smile and blush at his words- “And those guys on the basketball team were always bragging and telling stories-”

“If a plate of spaghetti grew legs and started walking around, those guys would claim that they fucked it. Why would you listen to that noise?” you interjected, your annoyance clear.

He held his hands up in defense. “You’re right, I don’t know why I believed any of that crap. I know you have better taste than that. I mean, you like me, so that proves you have a much more sophisticated taste in men.”

“Sophisticated is one word for it, I guess,” you mumble while rolling your eyes, before sitting up to grab your nightie from the foot of the bed.

“If you weren’t active, why were you on the pill?” he questions you while rubbing your back.

“I’m a grown woman. I figured it was going to happen eventually, and I wanted to make sure I was ready when it did,” you answer distractedly as you work on turning your pajamas the right side out.

Eddie hums in understanding but is otherwise quiet as he watches you redress yourself, except for a cheeky wolf whistle when you need to bend over to pick up your panties. Once you're covered up again, you turn around to see him staring at you in amusement.

“What?” you ask with a smile, climbing back onto the bed and throwing a leg over his thighs, settling onto his lap. The tips of your noses brush against each other as you see that gleam in his eyes you recognize as him trying to stifle laughter when teasing you. “What is it?” you repeat, shoving him gently on his chest before looping your arms around his neck.

He shakes with silent laughter then leans back to quirk a brow at you. “A plate of spaghetti?” he asks. You grab a pillow to hit him in the head with, but drop it when you’re tackled and pinned down, giggling and kicking your feet as he kisses up your collar bone.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut

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chrollohearttags · 8 months

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sassy ass ej the don being the most serious dragging y/n around to the renaissance show in his all chrome fit posing for the cameras 😭 don’t let beyoncé acknowledge him cus it’s over

SCREAMING!! Cause honey, best believe he was there, eating the girls up. Told (y/n) she better come correct or she can’t ride with him. 😭😭 Giving TinMan realness with a fur coat, shades and HELLA ice on, (you know he an Aries chile LMAO) Mind you, he had a concert himself that night but as soon as he heard The Queen was in town, he suddenly came down with a touch of bronchitis 🌚 baby is front row, knows every word and don’t let ‘em fuck up the Mute challenge cause now the whole row gotta catch hell. Like y’all don’t get it, he despises half the industry and never shows up to anything. So imagine everybody’s shock when he’s literally fanboying and falling all over himself for her. Like he’s soooo happy to be there. Him and (y/n) singing every word together, just having a time. One of his favorite songs is Love on Top and she sees him in the crowd just belting the lyrics to his girl so she shouts y’all out on the mic like ‘y’all look so good.” And mannnnn, can’t nobody tell him SHIT! He done came back and bragged to all of his boys, using it as leverage. Let Jean say some slick shit to him and it’s forever ‘well Beyoncé said I’m cute. What you got, Jean? Besides a foot for a face.” 😭 insufferable as hell. For days after, he carries one of those hand fans around and just opens it up right in front of you. Insufferable as hell. Bey has no idea the monster she’s created.

#cherry’s asks 🍒#nonnies 🌹🍒#he gon be like rolling ray #‘she call she check up on me from time to time.’#aot x black reader #eren x black fem!reader #musician x influencer au #aot au #him being a Beyoncé fan is like my fav thing now #we know he love all the lady artists #eren imagines #eren jaeger #eren jaeger headcanons #eren jaeger imagine #black fem reader

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cherrycocaineee · 2 months

Text

40. Toji Fushiguro - Toji as your boyfriend headcanons

* Synopsis: Toji met you the day you hired him to kill your husband. You were tired of being the battered wife who wore turtle necks and long sleeves all year round while your husband drank and laughed like he was having a grand ol’ time, especially when you found out about the cheating. What you didn’t expect was to fall in love with the man you hired to off your husband, and he wasn’t expecting to fall for you either but how could he just walk about from someone so pretty who didn’t seem to mind a bit of blood. Here’s how Toji is as your boyfriend. *

* Warning: nsfw, 18+, blood, murder for hire, soft x grumpy, whatever else you may considered a warning. *

SFW

There are noticeable things that Toji does differently to show that he cares. You often find yourself comparing your old husband to Toji, finding that you had made the correct choice of having him killed and falling in love with his killer.

* Toji holds any door you come in contact with open for you. It doesn’t matter if it’s the car door, a restaurant door, even your own home door. He’ll casually reach ahead of you, his arm always seemingly long no matter how far behind he is. He’ll pull the door open and keep his hand rested at the top of the opened door while gesturing you inside with his other hand. His eyes, dark and grumpy, watching you with a hint of amusement because it doesn’t matter how many times he’s done it or how long y’all have been together, you still were shocked at the unexpected kindness. Maybe that was why Toji did it, maybe he loved seeing your face contort into shock but happiness all in one.

* Toji doesn’t mind running you a bath every so often. Yeah, he goes out and makes a living and is tired but his life would fall apart without you in it. He’s a good looking man who does a lot of physical activities and no amount of going out to eat is good for any body, even one like his. So he’s grateful to be able to come home to a freshly cooked meal and a clean home. He doesn’t have to ask, so once in a while he fill up the tub with some perfectly temperature water to your liking, throw in a bath bomb that smells like his favorite scent on you: coffee, sandalwood, and rose. He even added some rose petals that he normally teased you about. He’d carry you to the bathroom, his fingers squeezing your exposed thigh reassuringly as you protested that you could walk yourself.

“Let me do this for ya, doll.”

* Toji will stay up late with you and listen to you talk about your day. One arm tucked behind his head while the other was being used as a pillow. He’d absentmindedly play with the strands of your hair while listening to you talk about whatever your day consisted of. The sound of your voice soothes him after a long day of work, and it’s one of the few times the two of y’all are intimate with the absence of sex. It was new to the both of you but an experiencing that both of y’all enjoyed with each other.

“I should probably get up and finish the laundry, Toji.”

“No ya don’t. Quit movin’ and lie down with me. Wanna hear about your day.”

* Toji likes to take you shopping; he likes the smile you get on your face when you come out in a new dress twirling around in front of him. You looked gorgeous in everything you tried on, especially the short little dresses that you seemed to love. He loved them too. While y’all are out shopping together,Toji is carrying your bags, keeping your hands free. Even with his hands full, he still managed to keep your hand tightly grasped in his own wanting to keep you as close to him as possible.

* Toji is protective as hell, which is more than you could say from your ex husband. Before your husband would laugh it off when one of his colleagues would slap your ass at some office party. You had complained about it before but he told you to quit overreacting and to not embarrass him. If they wanted to slap your ass, you’d better let them. But Toji wasn’t having any of it. No one could touch you but him, and he’d make it known with a glare, or low rumble deep in his chest when he growled at the approach of another man towards you. But those who were bold enough to ignore the warning signs Toji was putting out there, ended up in a puddle of their own blood. Especially the ones who laid their hands on you. After beating the fuck out of those who were brave enough to come after you, he would just walk away with you, his bloodied hand wrapped around your waist for security. It was the safety net you needed in your relationship, and he provided it for you.

* You’re the first woman that Toji has actually remembered an anniversary with. To him, normally, it’s just another dumb day to remember that he’s locked down. But with you, it’s different. Maybe it was because of how y’all met. Maybe he liked a girl who wasn’t afraid to get into trouble, and when you hired him to kill your husband, you risked getting in trouble with the police and he found that attractive. So he made it a point to remember the first day he met you and the first day y’all got together. And it meant a lot to you, considering your previous husband would often forget.

* Every morning Toji will leave a little gift that he hid all night for you to wake up to. A little something that he knows you’ll enjoy: a diamond necklace, a book he knows you’ve been wanting to read, a bouquet of your favorite flowers and some of your favorite candies. Sometimes the gift is expensive while other times it could just be something sentimental and small. No matter what it is, it brings a smile to your face. You aren’t use to little “just because” presents.

“You like my gift today, sweetheart? Thought about you when I saw it.”

“It’s lovely Toji! Thank you so much!”

* Before every mission, Toji asks you to write him a letter or to take a polaroid photo for him to carry along with him. Anything that’ll help get him through the next few days without you. Of course, y’all call each other or facetime but he NEEDED something more, something physical, something concrete, something real. It was endearing and you happily obliged, sending him off with some sort of trinket of yours. A handwritten letter, poem, some of your favorite song lyrics or book quotes; you’d even send him off with a few pictures not just one. You loved the smile that spreaded across his face when he got them. It made your day to know that he loved you so much that he had to have a little something that reminded him of you.

NSFW

But it wasn’t just the romantic parts of Toji that was different from your last husband. It was also the sex that was different. Physically, Toji is a better looking man by far: his large, muscular body, the dozens of scars littered across his body that he got from missions that didn’t end so well, his dark, jet black hair that wasn’t styled but looked amazing and soft, the scar on his lip was dangerous and his dark eyes were haunting and brooding but sexy and inviting. Physically, he was everything compared to your ex. But what you hadn’t expected was the difference between them in bed. Your ex husband was selfish, didn’t pay attention to you, didn’t say anything or do anything to get you there. But that wasn’t Toji at all. All he wanted was to hear your moans selfishly. It was like his appetite for you was insatiable.

* Toji loves eating you out, tasting every drop of your juices while shoving two fingers deep into your dripping heat. His eyes stared up at you watching as your head fall back, your elbows shaking as they tried to hold up your quivering weight. At any moment, your weight could give out causing you to plop down on the bed. He’d keep a death grip on your plushy thighs, keeping your legs spread nice and wide for him. Even if you wanted to close your legs, you couldn’t. Toji continued to flick his tongue against your sensitive clit before grazing his teeth against it; a shriek of pleasure and pain echoed off the walls of y’alls bedroom. A grin stretched across his face as he dove back into your folds. Your nails tore into the bed sheets, a slight rip colliding with the noises you were making along with the noises coming from your drench cunt. Squelches, moans, and ripping; it was music to Toji’s ears.

“That’s it, baby. Listen to all these pretty noises coming from you. Music to my ears.”

* Toji loves being in control, and you love that he takes control. He initiates the sex; there’s no waiting around wondering if he was out cheating and doesn’t have the apetite to seduce you like their was with your ex. Toji is practically addicted to you, and to you only. He loves your scent, he loves the feeling of your skin against his rough skin, he loves the sounds you make, the way your tongue rolled out of your slobbery mouth, your eyes either rolled to the back of your head or crossed as he fucked you deeper and deeper. He’d grip your hair forcing you to look at him as he pounded into you relentlessly. With Toji, sex was rough; the both of you were bound to leave with a few marks and bruises. Your nails digging and scratching against Toji’s back or his biceps, drops of blood beading out of the freshly torn skin, Toji’s calloused hands would dig into your flesh leaving hand shaped bruises, or he’d nip at your skin leaving hickies or bite marks. You could simply be making dinner and Toji will decide that he needs you right then and there. And no he can’t wait until y’all are in the bedroom, the counter is just as good as y’alls bed according to him.

“Toji, I’m cooking dinner.”

“Yeah, well I’m hungry now, so how about you hop of here and let me have a taste, hmm?”

* Sex with Toji is kinkier than you’re usually use to. He has a lot of different kinks including a breeding kink, mirror sex, overstimulation, dumbification, spit kink…and that was just to name a few. He liked holding you against the dresser and watching himself fuck into you in the mirror. He liked pinning you to the bed, his cock going painfully slow as he told you to open your mouth before dropping a large glob of spit between your lips telling you not to swallow it until you were told to. He has a front view seat of his saliva moxing with your own pooling spit. With a sharp thrust, he’ll tell you to swallow and you will. You wouldn’t dare to tell him no, not because he’d hurt you, but because you wanted it just as badly as he did. By the end, he’d have you filled to the brim with his cum after several loads before stepping back to admire his work. You couldn’t move really; your limbs were heavy and tired, your lungs were still gasping for air, sweat clinging to your body like a thin blanket. You could just watch Toji with hooded eyes as he examined his handy work.

“Such a messy little cunt. Pretty.”

* Aftercare with Toji is on a whole other level too. He helps clean you up, gets you all ready for bed or at least ready to resume your day. A nice, wet, warm washcloth casually running over your body removing whatever bodily fluid possess that crevice of your body, Toji whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you relaxed your muscles, sleep slowly overcoming you. Sometimes you’d be able to fall asleep but most times Toji was just cleaning you off just to make you all messy again. You didn’t mind though, it just meant you had to go through the whole aftercare process again. If you’re lucky, the two of you will run a bath after round 3 and Toji will sit in the water with you, holding your frame against his own.

“One more round, baby, and I’ll get a nice, hot bath ready for us.”

#toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #anime smut #female reader #jjk x reader smut #imagines #smut #one shots #fluff #toji imagines #toji zenin

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b1rds3ye · 11 months

Text

Before the Mask

You eagerly return to the Federal Security Service’s base from a month long mission hoping to see Nikto again, but you’re told he’s not around. In the meantime, you find your interest piqued by a mysterious masked figure now wandering the barracks…

Pairing: Nikto x GN!Reader

Reader Aliases: Seeker

Word Count: 7.4k (I did NOT expect it to get this long so pls enjoy~)

Genre: Pre-Modern Warfare/Prequel, Fluff, Mystery (?), Reverse Comfort, Light Dose of Angst

Warning: Descriptions of injuries, swearing, mentions/portrayals of mental disorders, insults against physical experience, probably ooc Nikto, Reader is a lil oblivious

A/N: everyone being down bad for masked men Ghost and König but y’all forgot my man Nikto 😩 😩

“Congratulations to our dear comrade Seeker for their success and safe return!”

There were cheers all round as you entered the room. By the time you reached the main table, your back was sore with the slaps of congratulations and a job well done. The Russian Federal Security Service had sent you under the radar for a month long operation, and your comrades gifted you a surprise night of drinks and games upon your return. Even your fatigued body was energised by seeing familiar faces, and you had to give it to yourself, that last operation was probably the best you’ve ever performed. There was no better way to celebrate - surrounded by your allies… however it seemed one was missing.

“Where’s Nikto?” You questioned the troops surrounding you. It was an innocent inquiry, no one should be surprised, before your mission you were two peas in a pod. And yet the instant his name left your lips, the faces of your friends cracked for a split second before they forced their smiles to return. The area around you had gotten quieter. Your shoulders rose as you inwardly cringed. God, that’s embarrassing, you’re dampening the atmosphere to your own damn party.

“Brother Nikto is busy,” one replied. “He’s on field duty for the next few days-”

“Weeks,” another quickly corrected.

“Oh…” You frowned at their words, slumping back as you put your whole weight on the backing of your chair.

“He sends his regards, said he really wanted to come,” the troop added hurriedly.

“You worked hard the last month, Seeker. Do not push your mind now,” a sergeant tried to refill your drink upon seeing your dejected state, but it did little to quell the disappointment. Of course neither you nor Nikto could decline a mission, but you didn’t realise how much you were banking on being able to see Nikto again. Going undercover you interacted with no one but your direct superior. You missed him; he may be a little rough around the edges but he was steadfast and reliable. He may not have a face sculpted by Michelangelo but he had a rugged handsomeness that had made him a sight for your sore eyes. He wasn’t the most talkative but he had a drive and charisma that motivated you to keep fighting when he was in your sights. Oh well. For now, you’ll make the most of tonight and chase up Nikto later.

You took a massive gulp of your refilled drink, slamming it back on the tabletop half empty. You let your eyes scan across the room, only for it to land on a figure leaning against the opposite wall. The moment you two make eye contact he flinched, snapping his face away. And what a face - or lack thereof. His features were obscured by a smooth mask made of hard black plastic (or metal, you weren’t sure) that hugged his face like bandage wrappings. He wasn’t the largest figure in the room but he was still imposing enough for you to be unable to look away once you noticed him. It didn’t help that his entire body was clad in black, more akin to an assassin or ninja than a soldier. And like a ninja, he left at unimaginable speeds when he noticed your eyes were still on him.

You leaned over to the soldier beside you.

“Who was that?”

“Who?” They followed your gaze, only to be greeted with an empty wall.

“There was a guy with a big, bulky mask, haven’t seen him before. Did he join while I was away?”

They were silent for a few moments but you swear you heard them quietly curse at your question. They cleared their throat and nodded slowly.

“Yes, new guy. Don’t have a name for him yet. Probably shouldn’t ask.”

Over the next couple of days, you managed to pry Nikto’s number from one of your mutual friends. You didn’t want to look desperate to talk to him but you figured you were restrained enough after an entire damn month. His mission shouldn’t be undercover so he’d have access to all contacts. You shot him a casual text, a greeting and a wish that his mission is going well. Then it was the waiting game, you can’t imagine Nikto being an avid texter that eagerly hops onto every notification.

You had a few weeks until your next deployment but that didn’t mean you could slack off. In days like these you waste the hours away in the shooting range, in the last aisle where you’re tucked and hidden away.

Arms steady, breath slow, you shot at the target. This pistol was new, the weight distribution was off and it was showing in your inaccuracy. If you stared at the target any harder you would end up seeing double. With a grumble, you tore your gaze away and reloaded the weapon.

In truth, you originally didn’t have a preferred aisle of the shooting range. It was on one faithful visit where the range was packed, you had no choice but to take the furthest and dingiest one.

“You are good shot.”

Funnily enough, that interruption was all you needed for your next bullet to completely miss the target. You slowly turned around to make eye contact with a man adorning a matching uniform to yours. You tried to hide your scowl as he let out a raspy chuckle. He didn’t seem all that expressive, just a small quirk of the lips at your misfortune.

“Care to have a try?” You taunted, stepping back from the range and towards him, challenging him with your unwavering eye contact. You waited a solid twenty minutes for this aisle to free up you’d be damned if someone takes it after five.

“No, no, I will watch you. I am learning a lot.”

… that was arguably worse.

You sighed inwardly as you turned back to resume shooting. You could feel those cerulean eyes burning into the back of your head. It took an extra few seconds for you to quell your trembling for each shot. You recognised him, he was someone in your squadron who you had yet to greet. He wasn’t the easiest to approach, but you’d be lying if you hadn’t been admiring his combat prowess from afar.

“Commander chose well to hire you,” the man eventually praised, his voice rough. But he sounded closer, as you turned around he was right behind you, sending you almost jumping towards the range. “But your form is lacking… can I?”

You nodded, trying to step away to give him space to demonstrate but it seems you misunderstood when he took a large step towards you. First cupping your shoulders, he reoriented you to face the target. Picking up on what he was trying to do, you got over your initial surprise and returned to your default shooting position. He grabbed your elbows, calloused fingers rough even through your shirt fabric, readjusting your form as he saw fit. He didn’t even provide commentary, only giving a satisfactory grunt when he was done.

Eventually, you risked turning your head to look at the man again, only for him to immediately fix your slackening arms. As he did, you focused on his face, taking it in. Despite his constantly stern expression he did seem quite the looker.

Noticing your gaze, he regarded you again.

“My name is Nikto. I usually shoot here but you shoot well, I will let you practice here too.”

You shook your head as you willed the thoughts away. Back then, you didn’t expect yourself to get so close to Nikto, but now here you are, your mind lamenting that he isn’t here and conjuring up memories to compensate after only a few days. How lame you chastised yourself as you finished reloading.

A creak of the floorboards has you whirling around. Oh. It’s that guy again. The masked man who you saw at that celebratory night. Typically, someone of his stature with a mask hiding his features would be intimidating, but with the way he was hunched over with eyes wide like a deer in traffic lights, you weren’t all that concerned. And so, you extended an olive branch.

“Hello-”

The man dashed away.

To be fair in your line of work, half the time you’re grateful if they run away.

With an inward shrug, you turned back to the shooting range. But not before you took one sneaky look at your phone, checking the message you sent to Nikto.

Read 12:35pm.

That bastard.

A fellow troop gave you an encouraging nudge of the shoulder at your irritable expression. There were a lot of reasons you were pissed this morning, the fact it was extra cold, the fact it was extra early, the fact you were extra tired. But whatever it was, it was not because it has been a week and Nikto has not replied to you. Why would you care? This man has only been through hell and back with you on missions, you’ve saved each others lives a good dozen of times and had each other’s back both on the field and off. No sir, this man is completely insignificant to your life.

You felt like a damn child with how petulant you were with your phone now, it felt far too heavy in your thigh pocket as it shook with each step. You were getting phantom vibrations as you could swear you received a text but it was never from him. You really should give Nikto the benefit of the doubt - these missions can be high stakes and confidential - but giving the benefit of the doubt won’t make him reply any sooner either so you’ll keep being petty.

You were encouraged to get a drink at the kitchen before you train. You grumbled to yourself as you headed there (about what, you weren’t sure, you figured just cursing the heavens and everything on this earth would alleviate your anger). But as you went to the kitchen, you had a new reason to hate life.

They changed the coffee machine.

The army had prepared you for a lot of things, you’ve memorised essay long Russian military protocols, you’ve learnt complex weaponry but what the fuck is the machine standing in front of you? Why does it have fifty more buttons than the last one? Why can’t a poor, very lonely feeling soul, just get themselves a humble drink?

You experimentally pressed what you hoped to be the main button, only for the coffee machine to make a disapproving noise. You let out a groan before trying another. There was no response.

You smacked the machine, which ended up hurting you more than it hurt it. Taking a step away, you were ready to punch the mechanical brat, winding your arm back…

Inhale.

Exhale.

A steady breathing brought you out of your rage, only it wasn’t coming from you. Turning around slowly, you found yourself coming face to face with the fully clad man again. You don’t know how this broad figure keeps sneaking up on you, especially when you notice he breathes like Darth Vader. He stood at the centre of the kitchen, a few metres away from you yet still enough for you to feel on edge.

“Uh…” you looked at him curiously. He was too far away to get a good judge of his eyes - it didn’t help that the surrounding skin was coated in an obsidian that blurred his eyebrows and fine lines. But even from this distance, while he was looking at you his gaze seemed to be looking past you. Or perhaps deeper into your soul. Simultaneously focused and not, body still except for the slow heaving of his chest. And that breathing. You figured he was breathing through his mouth with how raspy it was. You had never heard a breath so laboured, it was worse than someone going for a marathon. It was more than his breathing sounding like a chore, it sounded painful, injured.

What sort of new recruit is this?

You figured there’s not much of a point deciphering that, you had more dehydrating problems. Clearing your throat, you gestured to the coffee machine.

“Could you help me with this…?”

There was a few tangible seconds of no response. It was only until you were about to push off the counter to leave did he do a quick jerk of the head and start moving. In a couple of strides he reached the coffee machine. He grabbed two mugs and pressed a convoluted line of buttons which you couldn’t figure out nor memorise. Then the machine made the whirring of good, hard effort and the two of you waited.

A Russian curse had you popping your head into the kitchen. There was Nikto, staring down at the coffee machine harder than he looked down the sights of a sniper rifle. You’re pretty sure victims of his wrath have gone through less than this poor coffee machine right now.

“A watched pot never boils,” you stated.

“A watched coffee machine?”

“Doesn’t look like it works either.”

Nikto groaned, only quietening at your giggle as you stood beside him, getting the coffee beans.

“We do not use these fancy robots for coffee,” Nikto stated idly as he watched you work the coffee machine.

“You make the coffee yourself? Some people would call that fancier.”

He shrugged in acknowledgement.

“What type of coffee?”

“Make me your strongest.”

“Roger that.”

After making his drink, you then made yours. You figured he was just learning through watching, getting mentally familiar with the machine. It was only the next morning you realised he was memorising what you drank, with him sliding it to you across the kitchen counter the instant you entered the room. Steaming hot, the best you’ve ever had it.

This was probably the closest you’ve ever gotten to the masked man, able to scrutinise and take a good look at him. His uniform was identical to yours - implying a similar rank - but when you eyed the patch at the front of his clothes, there was no surname provided. In particular, you were more curious in the expanse of skin around the eyes, the only part of him left uncovered. Whatever powder used to darken the surrounding skin in ash black only emphasised it’s rough texture. It wasn’t like the typical soft, sometimes baggy, skin around the mask of the eyes. No, his was taut, as though it was pulled back by an unknown force, where even a microexpression could cause cracks across such parched skin. Perhaps it already did, judging by the maroon bleeding between the cracks.

Against bloodshot eyes were his stormy irises. Dark and deep like the ocean, filled with turmoil. Maybe you misheard and this wasn’t a new recruit, instead someone who transferred. A newbie would never look so jaded already, not as though there were raging seas in their consciousness. A hurricane brewing, ready to devastate while the mind desperately tries to pick up the remaining pieces of self before the next terrifying wave washes over.

“Who are you?” You whispered aloud, almost shocking yourself and causing the man to look at you. He squinted, searching your face. It felt quite intrusive but to be fair you were doing the same a moment ago. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to read your expression or committing your face to memory, either way you remained silent. Eventually he pulled away and just shrugged.

At least he didn’t scurry away like last time, which is a good sign, maybe he actually wanted to know you. Third time’s the charm.

“Well, uh, feel free to call me Seeker,” you replied, offering your hand out to the man.

He stared at it for a moment, contemplating, before his gloved hand took yours. He shook your hand but with his other, he pointed to his throat. That, combined with the obvious scarring and breathing suggested that his voice has been fried. You have no idea how that’s going to work on missions - maybe he really is some silent, deadly ninja. But you suppose an ally’s been made.

You two turn upon hearing the footsteps of a lieutenant as he enters the kitchen. The masked man passes you the drink he made for you before taking off, pushing past the lieutenant, shoulders crashing together when they meet at the doorway. The lieutenant looks back at him before looking back at you.

“Damn, you really are special to him.”

“Sir? I just ran into him at the kitchen,” you raised your eyebrows as he joins you to make a drink of his own.

“Negative, he avoids everyone when possible. All day be mopes around in his room. I can not blame him, he clearly swam through shit’s creek and back.”

“Huh…”

Nodding slowly, you took your cup and returned to your friend with a new tidbit of information. You take a sip.

Your drink is exactly as you liked it.

A scream had you sitting up. It was blaring, right in your ear, bouncing around in your mind, hitting all the nerves that made the hair on your skin stand to attention. You rushed to stand up, only for your legs to get entangled on a blanket as it curled around you like a serpent. Clawing at the fabric you tried to pull it off as you hurriedly looked around for where the scream came from. Maybe you could hear for it again but you couldn’t hear over your racing heart. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, but it was hard as spots in your vision had you looking everywhere and anywhere. Eventually you realised where you were.

You were in your room.

Another one of those nights, huh?

One where your body was at base but your mind was back on a mission, rehearsing each fight and kill over and over again. Your blanket finally relented, releasing your body as you pulled it off with a full sweep of your arm, letting your sweating body finally breathe through your nightwear.

With a heave, you hauled your body out of the bed. You weren’t going back to sleep anytime soon and judging by how dark it was, you have a few more hours until daylight. Getting changed into simple gear, you head out to your special spot at the back of the base. It’s covered in greenery for privacy with a single bulb by the door exit keeping it just light enough to see where you are. No one wanders round the back and it became your go to place when you needed to take your mind off of things.

Opening the door, you were greeted with familiar surroundings. It had been over a month since you last came here, so there were a few changes. One of the bushes had grown exponentially, a tree had lost an overhanging branch, a man was standing slumped against the wall-

What.

Over the last week, you kept seeing the masked man around, despite the words of your lieutenant. To be fair, you only ran into him when you were alone. He somehow knew all the base secrets that took you months to know. You ran into him off the beaten path of a nearby hiking trail, it was part of a new route you made to avoid the hordes of new recruits that jogged around. The old training room neglected for the new one was your personal haven but he found that too - which wasn’t surprising since he seemed pretty introverted. And now he’s found another one of your spots.

You didn’t mind though, he was good enough company… you suppose. He’s started speaking now, only single word sentences. His voice is incredibly raspy, more air than actual vocalisations. Through his broken voice you can still hear the thick coating of a Russian accent. His voice appears to be getting better though, you’ve had to ask him to repeat himself less these days, his tone is a little richer. But oddly enough he seems more reluctant to talk to you, the words he’s spoken to you on the daily you can count on a single hand.

Still, you would be lying if you said you weren’t a little peeved. This spot was meant to be truly isolated for you, allowing you to walk off your stressors, back and forth and back again until you no longer get the horrors of covert warfare flashing in your mind. Or the ability to freely talk to yourself as you sorted your thoughts, free of judgement. But now you have to behave like an actual functioning human.

“Morning,” you mutter, you really need to give him a code name soon if he’s so reluctant to give you his actual name. It’s less of a surprise seeing him around these days, he’s like a phantom cursed to the base, seemingly everywhere all the time. The masked man eyes you curiously, prompting your answer.

“I just needed some fresh air, I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. You’ve heard some of the others during the night, yeah? War catches up to all of us. There’s kind of an unofficial buddy system when it gets too much.”

You’ve gotten quite adept at reading his body cues. A quirk of the head by him. On anyone else it would look cute, like a golden retriever but not on him. While curious, it was commanding, more like an interrogation by the good cop instead of the bad.

“My buddy? Uh, he’s out on a mission right now, I guess. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

You leaned back on a tree, ignoring the pang of your heart. He followed you, standing in front. Caught between a large tree and an equally wide man would have most people shaking, but not for you. It was as though he was trying to make your world smaller, more comprehensible, less terrifying.

“My last mission went well but it doesn’t mean I’m proud of what I did. I just woke up and I couldn’t get it out of my mind.”

He leans forward, listening intently. It was sweet how open his body language is around you.

“It sometimes makes me question enlisting. I never feel like I’m doing the right thing, or if I’m doing it that well. If I did it right it wouldn’t be coming back to haunt me, right?”

You looked at him, trying to look into his eyes but in this darkness with his back facing the light his features morphed together into a faceless silhouette.

“Did you wake up from something similar?”

After a moment of contemplation he responded with a singular nod. And then the two of you were left in an understanding silence.

Upon realising that your hand had an iron grip on your other arm to the extent it will probably leave bruises, you let go. Your free hand was now trembling despite how you willed yourself to calm down. Whispering a curse you tried to shake the nerves out of your limb.

When that didn’t work, the masked man took your shaking hand. Instead of just holding it, he offered a firm but gentle squeeze. It was just the right pressure until he eased his grip, repeating again in a rhythmic motion that was all too familiar.

You weren’t used to the battlefield. The FSB specialised in undercover missions, quiet, slow and methodical. It was more an acting lesson with high stakes than anything, eliminations were more creative than a bullet to the brain, a slow acting poison meant you rarely had to see the consequences of your actions.

But now here you are, deployed as last minute reinforcements. Leaning against the only standing wall in a destroyed house, you tried pushing yourself against the bricks, hoping to assimilate with the wall. You wanted out. This was too much. You weren’t prepared for this. To the east was a distant explosion, it lit up the horizon briefly, but it was more daunting how quickly it went silent. The west and the north held most of the fighting, the darkness briefly lit up by gunfire which would disappear as quickly as it ignited, it burns your irises creating specks in your vision. Your ears were ringing, gunfire from all sides, there was another explosion in the east, there were shouts all around or perhaps it was just your mind screaming at you to leave. There was another yell, that was one of the new privates, even though you’ve never heard them scream like that before you could tell it’s them, this should be their first ever mission, you met them this morning and they seemed really nice, they talked a lot about their younger siblings, they really wanted to see them again you hope they’re okay, oh god what if they’re not-

“Seeker!”

You instinctively push even deeper into the wall, one final ditch effort to get out. You don’t even know who shouted your name until your sight of the battlefield is entirely blocked by the man of the hour.

“You are breathing too quickly,” Nikto stated as he hunched down to your level. Now you were distracted from the battlefield by pure embarrassment. Nikto, in your eyes, was the epitome of a soldier. He’s objective and efficient, and ultimately ruthless when an ally’s performance is subpar without good reason.

“I can’t do this,” you admitted with rushed words, syllables slurring and tumbling over each other. “I’m not- I’ve never been here before. I just work undercover. I can’t be in a war.”

“Only a madman wishes for war,” he says.

You shake your head furiously, looking at anywhere but him. You don’t know how he stays so calm in these situations, you envy it, you admire it. Why couldn’t you just be like him? Your shame is mixed in and swirling with the panic, any more emotions and they’ll rush up and spill from your throat.

“I’m a coward,” you muttered as you pulled your knees up. Nikto frowned as he leans even closer.

“Scared, yes. But you are no coward.”

Nikto looks around before pulling out one of your arms that you had wrapped around yourself. His hand - unoccupied by a weapon - holds onto yours. You return the grip like he’s a lifeline, impossibly tight but he did not wince. Noticing how your gaze was only trained on your connected hands, seemingly fascinated with his presence, he brings your hands up, letting your eyes drift until they settle on his face.

“Take a good look. I am here, I am with you,” Nikto didn’t speak loudly yet you can hear him over the chaos.

He squeezes your hand as your grip on his loosens. It’s gentle, especially through your thick gloves but you can most certainly feel it. It’s a slow, repetitive movement, almost as if he was massaging your hand or resuscitating your limb. A welcoming gesture, grounding you, coaxing you back onto the battlefield. You don’t know how long he keeps at it but he doesn’t relent even with as war rages on, he never misses a beat.

Eventually you narrow in on a shout. It’s oddly close, and in a language you can’t understand.

“Hostiles,” you say simply, with the voice of a soldier.

As you pull your hand away, Nikto lets out a sly grin. You wouldn’t fault anyone else for describing his smile as evil, but to you, it’s a delightful expression.

He hands you back your own pistol.

“Steady your hand, my friend, I need your aim.”

As the masked man’s grip on your hand loosens you immediately pull your arm away. You cradle your arm as if it had been burned. You almost feel like you’ve been violated, your privacy intruded on. That little intimate gesture was done by Nikto, for Nikto and him alone. That single gesture sent memories flooding into your mind. From moments just before a battle to waking up in the dead of night with the horrors of battle invading your sight. That gesture alone saved you an ungodly amount of times. It must be a cruel, cruel coincidence, but you couldn’t stop the scowl climbing on your face. Your eyes were locked on him and he was staring back. Screw you for extending an olive branch and screw him for actually accepting it. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Waltzing up and treating you with utmost care like he could replace a dear ally of yours?

No, you weren’t tolerating it.

Your body may be behind a base in the dead of night, but your mind was on the battlefield. And in that moment, it only knew how to push back and fight.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you seethed. Despite your most intimidating expression, he does not flinch. He doesn’t even move. For once it is purely silent between you two as he holds his breath.

What was he waiting for? Did he need further instruction? You were more than willing to issue them out.

You pushed yourself off the tree trunk, almost launching yourself straight into the man’s chest had he not lunged back.

“Who do you think you are?” You hissed. “I don’t know why you keep hanging around or following me. I don’t know much about you and I’m an idiot who keeps talking my head off. But you know too much. I don’t know how but you do. Maybe I’m just too easy to read. We’re not best friends, you don’t have the right to do that to me. You just- you just don’t.”

You sounded a lot more eloquent in your mind. You don’t even know the point you’re trying to make anymore, but the only possible course of action in your addled brain is confrontation. And it seems like a victory as you make the man retreat, halfway to where the door is.

“Leave me alone.”

He hesitates. Almost as though he’s concerned for your wellbeing, or maybe he’s just pitying you which feels worse. He then dips his head in acknowledgement, before simply walking away. Not without one final look at you, you can’t tell if it’s because he wants you to change your mind or if he’s so selfless he just wants to check you’re okay, but it’s not looking good on either front.

Once you heard the click of the door closing again, you flexed your now empty hand as you grimaced. You hated how you were missing his presence already. At least you were now free to pace back and forth and talk to yourself to your heart’s content.

After another two days Nikto finally replied to your text. He took his damn time. He said he was sorry for his absence, welcoming back to the base and that he hoped to see you around again. But those felt like empty words when he didn’t even give an estimate to when he’ll be back.

You frowned as you read the text, almost throwing it across the room as you sat in the common area. You’ll reply later. If his texting game can be ass, so can yours (at least that’s you tell yourself but you’ll probably respond to him in a few hours). With nothing else to do, you found yourself eavesdropping on two other sergeants.

“You know, I was thinking of a name for the masked menace.”

You rolled your eyes, it turns out you can’t avoid the masked guy even when he’s not physically around.

“Oh yeah, what?”

“Freakshow. Got that idea the instant we fished him out of Zhakaev’s compound. His face is fucked, not even a mother could love that.”

“Quiet, he could beat us up.”

“Maybe before, not now. Punching someone would probably break his own arm. Or the skin at least. Definitely the skin.”

“Easy, now. That’s your comrade.”

Despite your conflicting feelings towards the masked man, this was just downright cruel. All it took was a sideways glance from you (and perhaps giving them a bit of an earful) and the two shut up.

Pulling back, you reread Nikto’s text. You were overanalysing, you knew that, he’s always been a direct and honest man but there was something about his message that was bothering you. Even though you have barely texted him, you were sure his physical behaviour could translate to mobile. He was punctual, he replied efficiently with just enough words to give the maximum amount of necessary information. But the sentences you were reading were far too long, like he’s trying to compensate. Like he’s lying.

You decided the next best course of action was to clear your mind at the shooting range. It was a quiet time, most people would be eating lunch about now, so you were sure your go to aisle would be free. As you entered you could already hear the distant shooting of a gun. The ceiling light casting a shadow over the figure that stretched across the booth and into your view. They were in the last aisle.

In a form of psychological warfare, you take the aisle next to the shooter in hopes they’ll get the idea to scram. There’s a break in their shooting as they notice where you’re situated and you can’t help but smirk, only for it to drop when you realise who’s in the next aisle.

That rugged breathing was in mistakeable. So rugged it dried out your own throat. God why did it have to be him? Leaning on the bench in the booth, head down, you took a few deep breaths as you considered your next course of action.

You had to admit, perhaps the last time you interacted you weren’t in the best of mind. But upon reflection all your interactions with the man are starting to putting you on edge. It could be pure coincidence - whatever god out there taunting you that you got a little crush on some Russian guy that left you on read - and you put your bitterness on him. He didn’t deserve your anger.

Hands in your pockets, you tried to nonchalantly wander towards the aisle next to you. The man kept shooting but you were sure it was just a farce. He knew you were behind him.

“Uh… I just thought you should know that one of the boys is trying to make a callsign for you.”

Real smooth, Seeker.

He stops shooting but his position is fixed, aiming down the aisle.

“It’s not that great. It’s terrible, actually.”

The safety of the gun is switched and it’s put in his holster. He turns to you.

“They wanted to call you ‘Freakshow’ but after a word with them I don’t think they will.”

At the name, he tensed. You were too far away to give him anything more than a sympathetic shake of the head.

“I could probably come up with a new one for you? I’m not the best with names but with a bar as low as the one they set I can come up with something.”

A foreign sound escaped the man. A rush if air through his throat, a wheeze, before it sent his shoulders hitching repeatedly. A chuckle. You looked on in surprise, he was laughing.

Offering a small smile back you said you’ll get back to him in a few minutes as you returned to your aisle beside him. Wanting something to occupy your fingers as you pondered, you instinctively pulled out your phone and went to your texts. A casual reply back to Nikto wouldn’t hurt. You could probably just ask him some funny Russian nicknames to give your ally. Maybe you could name him after a masked hero or villain?

Satisfied with the text you wanted to send to Nikto, you hit send.

Ding!

Your head jolted to the thin barrier between the booths. That sound didn’t come from your phone. Never had such a small sound set your heart ablaze but your blood go cold. Limbs like jelly, you haphazardly stumbled over to the booth next to you. The masked man, phone in hand. Upon turning on the screen to preview the message, his eyes went up to you and you almost doubled over at the contact. Those dark, clear eyes, so alarmed, so scared. Yours probably looked the same.

You wanted to open your mouth but no words came out. Save for one word that was on your tongue, one name. Why was it, when you’ve been waiting for him, you’re scared of saying the name?

“… Nikto…?”

The figure visibly deflated before squaring his shoulders, ready for confrontation.

“Seeker,” he greeted, and you can hear it now. You can hear that familiar earthy warmth in his voice, how it complimented and mixed so nicely with his accent. It was, however, dominated by the excessive air in his throat, making it scratchy and gravelly, near unrecognisable.

Your arms started to wrap around your torso, your mind racing.

“Brother Nikto is busy, he’s on field duty for the next few days.”

“Yes, new guy. Don’t have a name for him yet. Probably shouldn’t ask.”

“All he does is mope around in his room now.”

“Damn, you really are special to him.”

The man in front of you, seemed to know everything about you because he did. He’s been with you while you were waiting for him all these weeks.

And yet, instead of joy, your mind was only swarming with other emotions. Disappointment becoming dizzying as you failed to recognise him. Confusion as to why he didn’t try to let you know it was him. Betrayal tasted bitter on your mouth as he dared lie to you.

“I can not blame him, he clearly swam through shit’s creek and back.”

“Got that idea the instant we fished him out of Zhakaev’s compound. His face is fucked, not even a mother could love that.”

Ultimately it all boiled down to dread, as you try to merge the Nikto you bid farewell to all those weeks ago to the fully clad man standing before you.

“Oh my god,” you covered your mouth with your hand as you took in his figure. Had all this happened in the month you were gone? His body and face so battered and bruised beyond recognition that not even you recognised him? Every artificial ridge on his skin told a horrifying story that you have not read yet, and frankly you’re not sure you can even stomach it.

Nikto must’ve taken your response as disgust, and he bowed his head down.

“I…” he couldn’t find the right words to say. Every syllable he spoke stabbed your heart, you remembered how effortless and smooth his voice once was.

“Mission with Zhakaev…” Nikto’s throat gave way with every phrase, ending with hacks and wheezes. You lifted a tentative hand up, telling him he didn’t need to force himself to speak but he persevered. “Went undercover, was found out, tortured for-”

The words were stuck in his throat. He shook his head negatively, as he ended up turning away from you.

“I have failed.”

You rushed to Nikto and pulled him into your arms. He let out a gutteral sound of surprise. You realised a little too late he was never one for affection, but eventually you felt his arms against your back and waist. His hold was still too light, as if he was afraid of your comfort. You placed a hand to the back of his head, gently guiding it to settle in the nook of your neck.

“No. You’re back here. That’s success to me.”

He didn’t reply. You knew it would be hard for him to agree with your views. Anything less than efficient on the battlefield should be chastised - and that included himself. The hand you threaded through his dry and charred locks started combing his hair gently, careful not to pull any strands.

“Still… I… I don’t understand. The others told me you were on a mission. Were they in on it too?”

“Yes,” Nikto mumbled, his voice making his mask vibrate and tickle against your neck. “They would not lie to you. I had to beg.”

“But why?”

His hold on you tightens, the curve of his mask digging deeper into your neck.

“Shame, for how I have changed. Fear, for what you’d think once you saw me.”

“Then… why did I keep seeing you around?”

“Selfishness,” he confessed. “I wanted to avoid you, but I yearned. Needed to see you again. It was a long month, without you.”

The hurt in your heart spread to the rest of your chest and stomach, birthing butterflies that made you feel nauseous. You could not comprehend how difficult his last month had been. To be stuck suffering in enemy territory, found on the brink of death and to recover all alone. How hurt had he been that he thought you would not want him around?

“Do you really think I’d care about your appearance?”

“No, but look,” he choked, but he doesn’t even pull back to let you do so. Instead his arms become constricting like a weighted blanket, there’s more resistance as you try to breathe in. As you breathe out he inches a little closer, refusing to let there be any space between you. “This face, this body, this mind… is destroyed. What was rescued… was not the same, as the man that was captured.”

“Nikto-”

“All that remains,” he muttered, “is shame.”

“But you’ve done so much-“

“I have failed,” he repeated.

“You risked your life for valuable information-”

“We- no, I?” You can hear his frown as he tilts his head away to look down at his chest. Perhaps he expected there to be a hole where his heart was, a fragmented soul. “I am broken.”

“Andre Nikto,” you commanded, dragging him out of his train of thought. You mustered the strength to push away from him. Taking his hand that was wrapped around your waist, you gingerly picked it up, and brought it between you. Bringing his attention to your intertwined hands, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. And then again. Slowly, just enough pressure to ground him and keep his focus on you and not on whatever demons were running amok in his mind. Your next words were steady, well-paced, ensuring he understood every syllable.

“Look at me. I don’t care how much you have changed while I was away. I am just happy I can see you again and I will always want to see you again.”

“You-“ he continues to shake his head in disagreement. “You deserve… so much more. My worth… there is none here. Only as cannon fodder on the field.”

“No, you are so unbelievably strong.”

You brought your other hand to cup his face. Initially you could only feel the coolness of the mask, but after a few seconds his body heat reached your palm.

“I admired you then and I admire you now. Nikto… if only you could see yourself how I see you. I want to stand by your side.”

Nikto is silent as he stares you down. You’ve seen him do it before, in arguments, in interrogations. It’s his go-to tactic to intimidate, to break. But now, it is his final resort. With eyes as piercing as his, seemingly able to peer into someone’s soul, his silent staring has always been able to ruin anyone’s resolve. But you weren’t just anyone. You are someone who fell in love under that intense gaze, and you communicate that as you refuse to look away.

Eventually he lets out a breath as he breaks eye contact, deciding to settle his gaze on the rest of your figure. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him almost bashful, it was endearing.

“You are always… so stubborn.”

“I accept all of you,” you cooed before you hardened your voice. “But if you pull a stunt on me like that again - pretending you’re not around and prancing around as someone else - I will claim this shooting aisle as mine.”

Nikto’s eyes turn into crescents, crinkling as he grins. Watching his textured skin warp and wrinkle has you worried that even smiling hurts, but you can’t deny that he looks at ease.

“A fair deal,” he affirms.

Now knowing you weren’t going to run away from him, Nikto is comfortable enough to let you go, and you loosened your grip on his hand. But before his hands properly drop to his sides, you reach over and place a kiss on his mask. You hoped it was somewhat romantic, but it didn’t help how the smoothness of his mask made your lips slip a little. Your aim was a little off too, you aimed for where his mouth would be but it seems you kissed him more on the philtrum.

Still, the wide eyed look was one you have never seen on Nikto before and you were going to savour that for all of eternity.

“You came here to shoot, yes?” Nikto asked when he got himself out of his stupor and you nodded. “There is less on the mind now. Take the booth.”

“What, and you’ll just watch?”

“As always,” he replied, eyes shining with mirth.

Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #nikto x reader #mwii nikto #cod nikto #call of duty fanfic #/*avery actually writes*/

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portgasdwrld · 11 months

Note

Hiii <3

Could you maybe write the monster trio + ace reacting to when their s/o is sick and has a fever? I’ve been pretty sick this week and I think this would be a cute idea T-T

Tysm<3

Hiii, you are my first ask and yes no problem! I hope you will feel better soon 🤍 Sending you much strength 🫶🏻

I Hope you will like it somehow. I didn’t know truly what direction I wanted to go but I would like to think it still satisfied your demand💕it’s 2am here so sorry for any mistakes, I will correct later 🤷🏻‍♀️

📂Op men + sick s/o reader

Featuring: Monster trio + Ace

Warning: Pure fluff so none, F!reader

Note: I got carried away. I wrote sm oml 💀

Luffy

Your name was being screamed across the ship by none other than the captain himself. He was excited to show you a new goofy trick that Chopper and him had come up with. But when he didn’t receive any response from you, he turned to the small reindeer with a confused expression.

-Oi, where is y/n ?

-She said she felt dizzy so she went to lie down in her room.

Nami answered him while putting down her magazine. She furrowed her eyebrows now also worried about your silent behaviour. It’s been now around three hours since you had left. You weren’t one to be overly loud like your boyfriend, but having you completely out of sight was worrisome.

-Aahh?! Nami! You should’ve told me she was feeling unwell!

Chopper screamed worried as he ran across the ship to grab his medical bag. He ran to your room, soon followed by Luffy and Nami.

As they opened the door, they watched your frame all curled up in the sheets as if it was cold outside. Luffy ran to you and touched your warm forehead.

-Chopper ! She’s burning hot! Do something!

-Yes!

Your eyes slightly opened from all the noises suddenly filled in your room.

-Everyone…what are y’all doing here…

-Y/N! ARE YOU OKAY?!

Luffy screamed happy to see you awake.

-DON’T SCREAM LIKE THAT! ITS NOT GONNA HELP HER HEADACHE AND FEVER!

-You are one to talk…, he mumbled under his breath after being yelled at by Nami.

-I think you simply caught a cold. I will ask Sanji to make you something warm and you will eat some medicine to help your fever go down.

Chopper concluded as he looked at you with his big eyes, reassuring you that you will be okay. You weakly smiled.

-Thank you, Choppy

-Y/N! I will keep you company until you feel better !

He announced suddenly determined. He caressed your hair softly and his eyes filled with worries. Nami shook her head and gave you a sorry smile.

-You don’t have to… I’m fine…

-No, you’re not. I will stay here with you until you are yourself again. I won’t leave you alone.

He retorted suddenly full of seriousness. It wasn’t like him to be so serious about things in general, but seeing him like that with you made your heart warm.

He indeed stayed the whole day and the day after too. He kept you company until you started feeling better.

He tried to make you laugh by telling you stupid stories about his childhood and doing goofy ass shit. He would ask Sanji to make you the best nutritive food he could so you will heal faster. He cuddled with you at night even though Chopper told him he could catch your cold. He tried his best to brush your hair, but he let that to Nami after failing miserably 💀.

He tried his best to make you forget you were suffering even though it could be just for a second. If he was able to make you smile, he considered you were slowly getting better. He loves you so much. So for him, you needed to stay by his side until you both achieved your goals and more, and he was gonna make sure of it.

Zoro

-Zoro, I think we’re lost.

-No we are not.

He said convinced of himself. You rolled your eyes well aware of the direction skills of your boyfriend. Y’all stopped for a second trying to figure your position (mostly you) in this jungle. You leaned against a tree and let your body slide down until you were sat on the ground. Your head leaned on the tree as you searched for the map you found on the ground yesterday.

-Aren’t you a bit too exhausted for a little walk in the forest?

Zoro teased unaware with a slight chuckle as he watched your frame completely relying on the tree to hold your body. You have been sweating a lot more than you are used to and fatigue waves were hitting your body since y’all slept in this jungle. You didn’t say anything not wanting to worry your boyfriend or the crew, but it was starting to take a toll on you.

-Yeah, I don’t know…

You replied without much interest to bicker with him. You pulled the map out of your bag and started to try to localize y’all position.

-Hey, are you okay?

You feel your boyfriend tower over you, creating a much needed shade. You blinked at him as you felt your vision getting weak and nodded. He shook his head and leaned towards you and placed his hand on your forehead.

-You are burning. We need to get you to Chopper.

-No don’t bother, I’m alright. It’s probably the heat from this place.

-Y/n, you’re obviously not feeling your best. You’re sweating and your body is barely keeping you conscious at this rate.

-I’m fine seriously.

You insisted with now tears in your eyes because of a sudden sharp pain you felt in your head. You had a bad headache in the morning but it seemed to have left, but now it came back even worse. Zoro eyes filled with worries seeing your eyes get teary. He picked up your body in a bridal style and pecked your forehead.

-Okay let’s try to find the others as quick as we can.

You chuckled knowing it would probably take hours with his poor direction skills. You let your head rest on his chest and closed your eyes. You trusted him no matter what anyway.

-Okay

It was the last word you said before you fell asleep in his arms. Sanji and Chopper had randomly fell on the both of you as Zoro was walking with you in his arms and yelling the crews name to grab their attention. He explained shortly the situation to the doctor. They decided it would be better to head back to the ship.

After some time you opened your eyes and saw y’all were still walking in this warm jungle, but with now Sanji at the front followed by Chopper.

-You’re awake? How do you feel?

Zoro deep voice asked you softly, but his eyes were still following the cooks figure.

-I’m okay, thank you for carrying me.

He didn’t reply but simply smiled and nodded. His eyes looked down at you with a rare grin.

-Let’s just heal you already so we can go back to our explorations.

-More like finding our way out of being lost, you mumble weakly with a weak smirk.

-Yeah yeah whatever.

Sanji

-What a beautiful day, especially when I’m accompanied by my beautiful lady~

Sanji exclaimed while lightening up the cigarette at the edge of his lips. He tightened slightly his grip of your hand as he gave you a sweet look. You chuckled and rested your head for few seconds on his shoulders.

-Of course, how could I say no to a grocery shopping with my beloved man.

He blushed like crazy at the nickname and left a quick kiss on your cheek.

-AHHHH, Im so lucky to have you~ Look! The vegetables look fresh which is perfect when we have to sail for a long time.

He excitedly walked to the few standing shops to see the quality of the vegetables and you followed behind him, your hands still intertwined in his.

You weren’t paying much attention to what he was saying due to a little fever you caught this morning. You didn’t know the cause but you were still able to function, it was just giving you a harder time to do simple task. Like walking around the new island and spending time with your boyfriend, it was surprisingly more demanding than you would’ve thought.

-Did I lost you, ma jolie ?

He asked worried that he got carried away with his excitement to try new ingredients and buy fresh food for everyone. You used your other hand to caress his arm and reassure him.

-Of course not, I’m sorry. I think the heat is getting to me, it’s making me feel a little dizzy.

-Would you like to sit somewhere in the shade until you feel better ? We can go back to the ship if you want? I will make you something refreshing.

-I think sitting in the shade for a moment could help.

-Alright my love.

He kissed you once again and you two walked to a cafe and sat on one of the table on the terrasse. He ordered a cold drink for each of you. You closed your eyes and let your body lean over the back of the chair. You felt nauseous on top of the fever, it wasn’t your day.

-You look pale, darling.

Sanji expressed in a soft and worried tone.

-I think I’m sick, you retorted plainly, accepting your fate. You hated being sick but you knew not to push yourself too hard to heal faster.

-Should we head back to the Sunny ?

-I will. You still have to shop for the food. It’s important.

-You are important too. It won’t kill anyone if I do it tomorrow or later.

-Sanji, we can’t afford staying somewhere too long. Robin stayed on the ship, I’m sure we will figure something out until Chopper comes back.

-Are you sure darling? Let me at least walk you to ship and make sure you are okay before I go. Please?

You sighed and a smile curved your lips.

-I cant say no to you, can’t I ?

He smirked satisfied. After drinking your refreshers and paying, you both started to walk to the Sunny.

-Do you want me to carry you?

Sanji asked looking down at you. You were walking a little slow and you seemed out of breath. Your sweaty hand was tightly holding into your boyfriends one. He pushed your hair behind your ear and you blushed a little.

-I think I can do it…

-Like I’m gonna let my lady walk all the way to the ship in a sickness state.

He retorted determined after you turned him down. You secretly smiled to yourself. You loved how much of gentleman he was. He carried you all the way to the Sunny and asked Robin to take care of you until the doctor was back from his exploration.

He made sure she would run to any doctor if your state got worse. You reassured him it was simply a little fever and you were fine. He reluctantly left after making sure you were all comfortable in your sheets, that you had your favourite snacks, a big water bottle, your favorite books, etc.

-You are sure, you don’t want me to stay?

-Sanji, I swear to god if you don’t go I will kick your ass out of the boat.

He caressed your hair back and pecked the top of your head. He lifted your face by putting his finger under your chin as if he was trying to read your eyes and make sure you were truly honest with him. He gave you a long kiss on the lips and brushed your cheek with his thumb before pulling back.

-Alright! I WILL BE BACK SO REST A LOT! I WILL MAKE YOU A GOOD SOUP!

He exclaimed as he ran out of your room. Robin walked in after his departure to check up on you. You collapsed in your bed, eyes closed as sleep took over you. Robin shook lightly her head as she closed the door behind her. You stayed strong in front of him just not to worry him. Sanji made a bussing soup when he returned tho.

Ace

-So my girlfriend is sick ?

Ace spoke as he opened the door of your room. You were reading a book that you bought not too long ago at the last island y’all stopped. Your eyes looked at your freckled lover that had just bursted into your space.

-I guess I’m not so untouchable, you declared sarcastically with a smile. He scoffed and walked over to your bed. He softly grabbed your face and kissed you.

-Aren’t you scared of being sick by kissing me, you idiot.

-Like I care, I know I have my pretty girl who will take care of me.

-I ain’t no doctor Fire boy. The only nurse fantasy you will get is Marco.

-Can you not put images in my head.

You both started to laugh. He sat on your bed and stared at you.

-What

You finally ask after he stayed silent.

-You are still cute even in that state.

You lightly push his big arm as you roll your eyes. You were really self aware that your hair was a little bit a mess and you had a red nose. It wasn’t your best day, but it still made you blush to hear those words from him.

-I got you some candies. I know those are your favourite.

-Omg, I was in need of those. Thank you!

You exclaimed at the view of the candies in the small bag he had brought. Your pulled him into you and pressed your lips against his. He smiled against your lips and pulled away.

-I thought you were worried about me getting sick too.

He muttered barely few inches away from your lips. You grinned and wrapped your arms around his neck.

-Shut up and cuddle with me.

-Don’t you have a fever?

He asked conscious of his abnormal body temperature because of his DF.

-Yeah but my body feels cold. You know how getting sick just fucks up your body temperature.

He shrugged his shoulders not truly sure to understand what you meant but he kissed your lips again before pushing himself in the bed next to you.

-Sooo, what were you reading?

-A romance book- oh babe, can you grab the bottle on my desk? Marco told me to drink some this morning before he left but I got distracted.

He nodded and stood up grabbing the bottle for you on the desk. He opened it and poured some on a spoon.

-Open your mouth.

You grinned and opened your mouth. You drank the bitter medicine with a slight chill going down your spine.

-Damn that was gross

You said while sticking your tongue out.

-When it’s gross, it means it’s gonna work fast.

You perked your eyebrow at him and smiled.

-Since when are you a doctor, baby?

-Since my pretty girl is sick.

He replied after jumping in your bed and pulling you to rest on his chest. You closed your eyes to just enjoy the moment. You let your arm rest on his waist as your ear was pressed against his chest, hearing his soft heart beats.

-I think I’m already feeling a little bit better, you comment as you feel your body relax in his embrace.

A silent fell between you two. You furrowed your eyebrows.

-Ace ?

You looked up only to see he was dead asleep.

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offictionandfandoms · 2 years

Text

✎﹏﹏ Rumors Pt. 2

Previous | Next

✑ Pairings: Eddie Munson x f!reader!

✑ Word Count: 5192

✑ Requested: Yes/No

✑ Warnings: Angst into fluff, cursing, bad DND talk because I don’t understand DND so….yeah. Let me know if I missed anything!

✑ Authors Note: I just want to thank everyone who loved the last part and requested to be tagged in this one. It truly means so much to me, y’all have no idea. I wish I could reply to every comment asking to be tagged but I was busy making this. I’m sorry if I missed anyone! I hope this part lives up to expectations and you love it just as much. Also. I have a small part three that is just fluff because I was in a mood and I already liked the way I had ended this one…so. Here is a short fluff part 3! Enjoy :)

✑ Gif isn’t mine!

“It’s spelled with an ‘e’ not an ‘o’,” Y/N critiqued the paper in front of her, using her usual red pen to circle the mistake. The paper was adorned in red ink at this point, harshly overlapping the pencil markings, something she usually tried to limit. She always believed that verbally pointing out the mistakes and allowing the student to fix it in the moment was better than just marking the paper and letting them go. But over the past few days, all she cared about was wrapping up her tutoring sessions as fast as possible so she could escape back to her house.

“Oh, okay.” The dejected tone of the student had her looking up from the paper, red pen hesitating over yet another mistake she was about to mark. The reason being that she always wished to verbally correct them over just marking was that they always took the red marks to heart: the more marks there were, the worse the feeling of failure became. She was a tutor, not a dream crusher. Yet that’s all she had been doing lately. She recognized this, but she couldn’t stop it. It was like an angry blue monster had sat right on her brain, eating away at all sense of logic, healing, and hope, replacing it all with bitterness, sadness, and tints of anger whenever she saw Eddie Munson’s stupid pretty face in the halls or in class. She felt horrible in every way possible.

“I’m sorry,” she started, opening her mouth to give words of encouragement but halting before anything slipped out. The wide green eyes staring back at her were waiting, wanting some sort of pick-me-up advice and comfort. But how could she offer them that when she couldn’t even give it to herself? On top of feeling horrible, she felt pathetic. It had been days since the break up, days since she spoke to Eddie or even Jason, who she still hadn’t confronted about the rumor. The only person who she actively spoke to beyond her tutoring clients was Max Mayfield, who insisted on checking in on her every day, even if it meant her step-brother had to wait in the parking lot.

“It’s not a bad paper, these errors- they’re small. Just little things. You can fix them and everything will be okay.” She muttered out, averting her eyes back to the paper, yet not truly taking anything in. She had begged Eddie to let her fix her error- which she now knew hadn’t even been /her/ error- and he rejected her. Banished her, actually. The thought now made her laugh— was she some traitorous princess, banned from her kingdom?

Yes.

Quickly circling the last mistake she could find, or really the first mistake her eye came to after coming back into focus, she pushed it over the table towards the rightful owner, watching as they scanned over all the red. You couldn’t even make out what they had actually written in the first paragraph due to her scribbles.

Their shoulders slumped, “I. . . When I fix them, can I come back to you?” She wanted to say no, she wanted to cancel all her tutoring sessions for the next week but she couldn’t. So she just nodded her head and offered the kid a small discount for the next session, as she really wasn’t 100% there herself.

She watched as they shoved everything in their backpack and took off, leaving her alone with her thoughts. At least for another ten minutes, at least, before her next and final client showed up. She was currently holding all of her sessions outside; the wind blowing her hair into a little dance and kissing her skin felt more freeing than the feeling of stares crawling over her body and whispers assaulting her ears. Whispers of what, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure if her overactive imagination and paranoia was making her hear her own name or if they were genuinely whispering about her. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to know.

Students were still dallying in the parking lot; some throwing balls back and forth like there wasn’t an actual sports field behind the school, some making out with their significant others like they didn’t have a house to go to, and some, like herself, sitting alone to study like they actually cared about school.

In her stupor, she could make out someone asking to talk, but she assumed that it was directed towards someone else, not bothering to turn around and see who it was. Not until the person said her name.

“Y/N?” Normally, she would’ve turned around to properly address whoever was speaking to her. Normally, she would’ve greeted whoever it was with a smile, maybe a handshake or a hug, and invited them to sit down with her until her next client came. She was raised in a proper household, she had manners.

But this wasn’t a normal case. And that wasn’t just anyone saying her name. She could tell who it was within seconds, the cadence of his voice permanently etched into her brain.

So, in that situation, she froze. Like a deer in headlights, she stared ahead of her, vaguely seeing the football go sailing through the air, and in her peripheral’s, the shadow of a body taking a seat beside her. Uninvited.

“Please.”

It was such an odd time in her brain. Because she could recall just how easily she used to cave into his cute little plea’s, how seeing his pouty face as he begged her to give in had filled her with such a strong sense of adoration that she felt like she was floating. Now she could also recall just how easily he denied her when she pleaded, how seeing him push her out the drama room door felt like he had stapled an eviction notice to her heart. She could feel the want to give in, to turn to him and promise to make things better. Normally that would be enough to make her do it. But, again, this wasn’t a normal situation. The blue monster was turning red, tendrils of smoke puffing down her spine and overcoming the want for them to work out with the want to tell him to shove it. Neither side won, and she just sat there, knee bouncing as her mind and heart fought a war inside her. It wasn’t her place to make things better anymore, she had already tried. But she couldn’t imagine treating him like he had her, even if he deserved it.

As if he could read her mind, he nodded, leaning forward on the table to try to catch her attention. If only he knew that every nerve ending in her body was standing on end for him, how every neuron in her brain felt like they were on a live wire that was Eddie Munson’s guitar string. Even if she wasn’t looking his way, she was still acutely aware of every move he made, every breath he took, and even his hair being ruffled by the wind.

The rings glinting in the sunlight was what made her look over, though. Specifically the ring he had on his ring finger— the one that she had bought him. It was a gift for them making it a month together. Eddie had freaked out because he hadn’t got her anything, mainly because he didn’t get the hype of a monthiversary, not because he hadn’t remembered. When the next month came around and he had brought her handpicked flowers and a guitar pick with their initials messily engraved on them, she had laughed, explaining how two months isn’t really celebrated but that she loved them. He had started complaining about how monthiversary’s are complicated but she kissed him mid-sentence and took the flowers to a vase. She still had the dried petals in a box in her bedroom and the guitar pick in her jewelry box for safe keeping.

“I couldn’t take it off.” He had noticed her staring at the ring, lost in thought. So lost that she hadn’t noticed that he had begun to fiddle with the ring nervously. She raised an eyebrow at how easily it spun around, clearly not too tight for him to be unable to remove it. He caught that, too. “I mean. I could. But I.. couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Didn’t want to.”

Finally she lifted her gaze to meet his, the wide puppy stare a punch to her already beaten gut, “Why?” It was the first thing she had said to him since the breakup, and yet it summed up everything she wanted to know. Why couldn’t he take the ring off? Why didn’t he trust her? Why didn’t he talk to her? Why didn’t he love her enough to make things work?

She could see his Adam’s apple bob with a harsh swallow, almost like he had picked up on her thoughts regarding this, too.

“Well, you see, it’s my favorite.” The same goofy grin she had come to love developed on his face, his hair sweeping across his forehead as he dipped his head down. He was trying to be cute. He was trying to be cute to hide the fact that his fingers were now tapping against the table nervously, much like her bouncing leg. He was trying to be cute to hide the fact that he was as upset over everything as she was. If he knew her enough to pick up on her thoughts, then she surely knew him enough to do the same. And there was no way he was as upset as she was.

Anger finally took hold of her as she crammed her studying books, index cards, and red pen in her bag, swinging it over her shoulder as she stood up. The momentum nearly caused her to stumble but she used it to propel herself towards the school doors.

“Yeah, well. Things change. Find a new one.”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

After managing to find her last client and change location to the library, Y/N had been homeward bound and had never felt better about it. The brief encounter she had with Eddie had left her shaken and she just wanted the comfort of her blankets and whatever sad song she could find on the radio.

Though, the next day brought even more shaking encounters and by the time lunchtime rolled around, she was thoroughly exhausted and on edge. She had nearly failed her first period exam, hadn’t been able to answer a question that her second period teacher had asked due to her being zoned out, and then she nearly tripped in the hallway, losing some papers in her skirmish to regain balance. She didn’t even try to get them back as she hurried to the cafeteria, eager to eat mediocre pizza and not be bothered.

But, as all bad days go, they get worse.

“Hey, Y/N! Hey!” She could barely contain her groan as she lifted her head to see Jason waving his hand for her to join his group in the line. The people who stood between her and him gave her warning glares, as if to say ‘don’t you dare skip again’. She had no intentions of doing so.

“Hey, Jason. I’m good here, thanks though.” While she was angry at Jason and his inability to shut up, most of her anger lay with Eddie, who bought into the cheap rumor without hesitation. Though, she still didn’t want to be near Jason or his posse of dumbasses.

“They’re not going to say anything. Right, guys? She can come up here.” He asked, his voice carrying over the other conversations taking place as he addressed the glaring individuals. None of them went against Jason’s order, though none looked happy about it, either.

Y/N was forced to take a deep breath through her nose as she steadied herself. It felt as if she was teetering on a tightrope and either way she fell, she was going to end up having a breakdown. Whether it be from anger or sadness was yet to be determined. In this moment, though, she was about to swan dive into anger.

The tight lipped smile she gave him felt painful on her face as she spoke through gritted teeth, “I’m fine here, Jason.”

But, as all choices given by egotistical jocks go, you don’t really have a choice.

Y/N soon found herself sandwiched between Jason and his buddies as they came down the line to her, willingly giving up their space near the trays just to grate her nerves even more.

“You know something, N/N?” Jason started, looking down at her with his pretty smile she was sure had other girls swooning, “You’re a saint. A real saint.”

The thin line of frazzled nerves that he was sawing away at was about to snap, but she decided to play his game. Not like she had been given an actual choice in the matter. “And why is that, Jason?” She refused to call him by some nickname that his friends usually used— they weren’t friends and she wasn’t going to appease his feelings by pretending otherwise. She wasn’t even looking his way as she moved forward in line.

“Tutoring that freak.”

At that moment, Y/N swore she could see red. His friends were howling with laughter, he himself seemed smug with his insulting joke. She couldn’t take another step forward as she processed what he said, and each time it played over in her mind, the angrier she got.

“What?” By now the line had moved up more and Jason was pushing at her back, but she was a brick wall and she wasn’t moving. Not until he repeated what he had said, not until she knew she had heard him right.

“Oh, c’mon. It’s not like he can pay you. You’re doin’ it pro-bono right? You’re a saint. I guess even devil worshippers need to graduate.” Not only had she heard him right, but he was only making matters worse. She didn’t pay much mind to the students behind her once again complaining about how she needed to move or Jason trying once more to push her body forward.

He had successfully sawed her nerves away. She was now hurtling towards the pit of anger, happily so. Anger beat sadness, and she was about to beat him.

“Go fuck yourself, Jason,” was the first thought she had to say, one she had been dying to get out since she first realized what he had been spreading about her. His eyes went wide at the sudden quip and his friends started letting out low “ooh”s.

“You can’t talk to me..”

“I can talk to you however I want to. But God knows from your essays that you probably won’t understand anything I say. So let me spell it out for you,” she started, feeling as if the world around her was shaking, and yet it was only her body as rage coursed through her. “We are not friends. We did not sleep together- I would never sleep with someone like you…”

His hands threw up in defense as he took another step back, away from the step Y/N hadn’t known she had taken forward, “Whoa. I never said we slept together, dude.”

The interruption was enough to make her jab a pointed finger into his chest, sending him another step back. “Don’t you dare interrupt me. I am talking. Eddie Munson is /not/ a freak. He is a better man than you could even dream of being. I am not tutoring him. And you can shove your money right up your-”, she didn’t get the chance to finish her rampage before someone was grabbing her around the waist, pulling her away from a red faced Jason Carver.

“Put me down! I said put me down, asshole!” She yelled, not caring how her voice bounced off the walls, or how everyone in the cafeteria was staring at her like she had lost her mind. Maybe she had, but she didn’t care much about that either.

“I know I’ve made some mistakes but I don’t think name calling is necessary.” It took a moment before she could pinpoint that voice in the midst of her anger but once she did, she thrashed harder in his arms. She felt like a dog backed into a corner, no matter where she ran, she was met with people who pissed her off.

And a corner is exactly where she found herself as Eddie deposited her in a janitors closet, shutting the door behind them. It was dark for only a second before the dim light filled about half of the room. Dirty mops, cans of antiseptic spray, cobwebs, and a very amused Eddie stared back at her as she looked around.

The second his lips pulled up in a smirk, she exploded, “Why would you do that? I was-“

“You was’ going to get yourself expelled.”

“Stop interrupting me!” She flung her arms up in exasperation, seething at her sentence being cut off once again. Though when her fingers made contact with metal shelves and brick walls, she was quick to gasp and pull them back into her chest.

Much to his credit, Eddie hadn’t even flinched during her yelling, he had simply leaned against the opposite wall, watching with the ever-amused smile and raised eyebrow. He even shook his head with a chuckle as she nursed her now stinging hands.

“Let me see,” he started, inching forward with a hand outstretched to her. His rings didn’t glint as much in this light but she could tell he was still wearing the one she gave him. Tucking her hands closer into her chest, she shook her head. Her anger gave way to stubbornness, nostrils flaring with each deep breath and her chin lifting up to give some semblance of strength. Much to her chagrin, it only amused him more.

“Come on, sweetheart. Just let me see.” At the pet name, she froze for a moment, thinking back to all the times he had called her that before. Eddie wasn’t big on cliche pet names, he liked to create his own for her. Though sweetheart was a personal favorite of hers, so he had a tendency to use it on her. It always worked for getting her attention and making her feel more comforted and loved. Even now, even while dealing with a hundred different thoughts, that one word was like a bridge straight to her heart.

Without a word, but with a dramatic huff, she held out her hands, letting him see the damage for himself. He was very gentle when taking her hands into his, the warmth of his rings pressing into her skin like a beacon from home. His fingertips gracefully traced over the little red marks now marring her skin, like any sort of pressure would cause her to crack and fall apart.

The softness of the moment had entirely eradicated her anger and she was left with an ache where it once was. With her hands still held in his, she couldn’t fiddle with her fingers in nervousness, and when she tried to pull them away, he tightened his hold. Yet it was nothing compared to the way Jason’s hand had been firmly nudging her at lunch or how he held her wrist. It was like Eddie had found the next greatest DND figurine, used and a bit worn, but beautiful, ethereal, sacred. Something he was meant to protect— and he had failed doing so. But now he was making up for it.

His lips pressed against the red marks before she could question him, his forehead resting against her wrist as he just stood there, not saying anything, but not needing to. The amusement from earlier was long gone and was replaced with something Y/N couldn’t quite place.

Her lips parted for a moment as she thought over what to say: ‘I’m fine”, “We should go”, “Thanks for stopping me from getting expelled but god I wish I could have decked Jason just once’?

What came out was something entirely different: a whisper of his name. Saying it any louder would have broken whatever spell had been placed over them, and she didn’t know that she had it in her to do so. Or if she could even raise her voice again- she was so tired of yelling, of trying to be heard and listened to.

“Please,” was all he said in return, his voice just as low as hers. He finally dropped her hands but it was only so he could wrap his arms around her waist, tugging her into his chest; into a hug that she had yearned for since last week; into the arms she never thought she’d feel herself in again.

Vulnerability. That was the new feeling, what had replaced his amusement. The room was warm but the goosebumps on her skin still arose, her heart raced like she had run a mile and yet she was standing still, time felt like it had reversed a few weeks to when they were still together, when they were still Y/N and Eddie. And yet, it was still the same day, same hour, and the same broken up situation.

“Eddie…” she repeated his name, feeling his hair tickle her lips as they moved, smelling his cologne sneaking into her nose, and hearing the way he took his own shuddering breath, terrified of what the next steps would bring.

A few seconds later, Y/N found herself back in her own space, Eddie standing against the wall like he had been moments before, “I know you didn’t sleep with Jason.”

Even though the anger had long since disappeared, she still felt snarky as she shot back, “Oh, really? News to me.”

The smile he gave back was one of mock amusement, one of barely concealed pain, “I deserve that. I… I don’t know why I didn’t talk to you about it. I’m sorry.” He was pushing away from the wall in a flash, pacing the short width he was given as he raked his fingers through his hair, his face scrunched up in a look of concentration and anxiety.

“Sorry doesn’t-“

“I know, sorry doesn’t cut it. I /know/ that, Y/N. Why do you think it’s taken me so long to approach you? I had to do better than that. I had to think of more than ‘I’m sorry.’” He rushed out, not caring that he had interrupted her again. He just had to get it out of his brain before he lost it, before he became a stumbling, stuttering mess and wasn’t able to fix things.

“I still don’t have anything. Because nothing will magically sweep this away. I can’t roll dice and overcome this. But seeing you today in there with him, I knew I had to step in. And I’m sorry.” He rattled off, finally coming to a stop as he looked down at her, looking like a puppy who had just been kicked or left on the side of the road, searching desperately for its home. And even though he didn’t say it, Y/N was his home.

She couldn’t continue staring into his eyes when he looked like that, all she wanted to do was to grab him back into her arms and never let go. So she looked down, she folded her arms over her chest and she looked anywhere but him, anywhere but where she really wanted to look. “Why did you believe it?”

His laugh was dry, humorless, and forced. It was so unlike his normal behavior around her that her heart ached. “I didn’t. Well, I didn’t want to. I came back to the lunchroom that day and I saw you sitting there, him whispering in your ear. And then him again at your locker. And every time, I could just hear him telling his friends how he kissed you in payment for tutoring. I felt.. I felt. Pissed off. Hurt. Like the runt in a family of giants. Or a magicless spell caster. I can’t blame you if you wanted to be with someone like him.” The moment he started speaking in DND terms, she snorted. That was more like the Eddie she knew, the one she missed. This made him halt in his tangent as he looked at her, clearly confused and worried about her laughter.

“Jason Carver paid me in cash. Extra cash, actually. He stayed across the table at all times, he didn’t ever touch me. I wouldn’t have let him. I wouldn’t have let anyone who wasn’t you touch me. If you’re a magicless spell caster than Jason is.. is a tree stump.” She was never good with DND terms, but she was trying to get through to him in any way she could.

Her words seemed to only make him feel worse as he threw his head back in a groan, hands dragging down his face roughly. His rings left momentary red streaks on his skin. “I know that, too. I’m just a dumbass and I ruined it, didn’t I? I can’t make this better.”

Hearing him so down on himself had Y/N pausing, watching him with a studious eye, analyzing everything he did. His face had returned to the normal color, though his eyes were still wide and pleading. His hair was a mess from being tugged at so much from his own hands. He was fumbling with his rings again as he anxiously awaited her response. His body was wound so tight, she was sure he was going to spring apart in a seconds notice.

Now it was Y/N’s turn to inch forward, hands outstretched slightly, “I wouldn’t say you ruined things but,” she started, watching as his head snapped around so fast she was sure she heard a crack, “it will take time to get back to how we were. You have to work on trusting me, Eddie. Relationships can’t work without trust.”

“I do trust…,” at her look, he trailed off, nodding his head again, this time much slower than before. Maybe she really had heard a crack earlier and now he was feeling the consequences. “Okay, okay, yeah. I’ll work on it. I promise.”

“And promise me that you won’t listen to bullshit rumors without talking to me?” She asked, feeling his hands snake into hers, fingertips tapping against the inside of her wrist, like he was waiting for the go ahead sign to fully grab her hand.

“I promise, I swear.”

In the beat of silence that spread between them, Y/N felt her heart building up hope again. The strings she thought she left back in the drama room were wrapping around the beating organ with a new found excitement, the cracks starting to form together once more. There was work to be done, yes, but she truly believed it was going to be okay.

“Okay,” she murmured more to herself, testing it out, feeling how her heart soared at her acceptance, “yeah, okay. We can work on it.”

That must have been the sign he was needing because he was soon pulling her back into his arms, forehead connecting with hers with a little more force than intended. Neither commented on the slight bump, both entirely caught up in being back in each other’s arms, no fight or rumor or dumb jock standing between them.

The shadows from the dim light cast deep shadows over Eddie’s face, making his eyes seem darker than normal. It had Y/N’s stomach flipping in nerves. Who would’ve thought that only a few days apart could have her feeling like she was about to have her first kiss again?

Who would’ve also thought that right when everything was about to be made right again, they would be interrupted? Not them, for sure.

But here they were, the lighting from the hall now creeping into their little hiding spot and a familiar redhead standing with her hand on the knob.

“Oh,” she started to turn away but soon turned back, like leaving without an explanation was more awkward than speaking, “Dustin told me what happened in the lunchroom and I wanted to check on you. But, I see everything’s good. Great. Okay.” Pointing at them like a finger gun, Max went to shut the door once more. The shadows that had been starting to crowd around the couple again were soon chased away, though, as she pulled the door back open.

“Max!” Y/N laughed, part of her finding her new friend’s insistence and indecisiveness funny, but another part wanting to kiss Eddie and hide away in their bubble for a short while longer.

“Sorry, sorry! Just sayin’. Eddie, don’t be a dick next time, understand?” With her headphones hanging off her neck, red hair pulled back in a low pony, and her eyes narrowed on Eddie’s figure, Y/N had no doubt Max could and would have some choice words with him next time around. When Eddie just laughed, Max pursed her lips and leaned her head closer, refusing to leave until he said it.

Taking the hint, he curtly nodded his head towards her, “Understood.”

Seeming satisfied with his answer, she briefly turned her attention back to Y/N with a teasing smile, “Don’t forget, you promised me more ice cream after school.”

Finally, with the door swinging shut and the noise from the hallway being muffled, Y/N turned to Eddie with a shy smile, remembering key components of her time as a single woman.

“Eddie, I have to tell you something.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she felt him pull away, just enough to fully look at her face. “I kind of spent half of my savings buying me and Max ice cream.”

Instead of responding like she had expected, Eddie laughed. It wasn’t like the dry one from earlier; this was filled with happiness, humor, and maybe a hint of teasing.

“I was a…” whatever she was going to say was cut off as his lips pressed against hers, his arms tightening around her waist as he held her close. Every thought, every word, every syllable left her brain as she clung to him, fingers tangling in his hair, back bent slightly as he leaned over her, not an inch of space between their bodies.

It was perfect, Y/N swore she could see clouds and Cupid himself flying around them. Bright light shone down on them like the heavens approved of this match.

Well, that was what she was choosing to believe as the principal led them into the bright hallway, students all around whispering and pointing at the couple with messy hair, puffy lips, and intertwined hands.

There would be rumors of this, Y/N was sure. ‘Eddie Munson and Y/N Y/L/N caught making out in a broom closet!’ But it was a rumor that she was actually looking forward to hearing spread around— because it was absolutely correct.

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