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grapejuicestyless · 3 months ago

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Leader Of The Landslide

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: John B was always your dad’s favorite. You always assumed it was because he blamed your mother leaving on you. Though he never outwardly neglected you, you always seemed to live in your older brother’s shadow. To everyone except one.

I remembered it from a young age, as early as seven, the way they all shunned me. My mother had been long gone, and my tired brain hadn’t held a single warm memory of her other than one.

We were at the chateau, as my dad called it, sitting on the old porch. Only, it wasn’t old then, it was new, and without the cigarette buds littering the once vibrant oak. There was an old wicker chair in the corner, pushed where the dusty couch now lay. It rocked slightly, not because it was meant to, but because it was broken. The distant memory of mumbled yelling and crashing from outside. Arguments that kept me and John B hidden under his covers until daylight broke. I loved that chair.

When I was young, my mom used to hold me in that chair. She never thought I was too old to be held, to be doted on by my mother. I still called her “mama” in my toddler years, pawing at the ends of her hair and the old fabric of her shirt. She sang soft melodies to me, songs I had never committed to memory, but songs I found in the simple things I enjoy now.

Popes dad says I had her eyes, and John B once told me that our dad thought I had her laugh. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t like me, he tells me he loves me, but he doesn’t like me.

Right before she left, I had been padding along the grain of the wood floors, my blanket dragging between my legs and my dad’s shirt were my makeshift pajamas hanging down to my ankles. A storm, ones we got often in the summertime as the air became warmer and pushed out the cold, had broken down a few large branches in the yard, and in an effort to find comfort, I ran to my mama.

“You favor that girl over our son!” My dad shouted, his voice thick with a simmering anger I had never heard before. I swore even then I could feel it through the walls.

“How dare you! They are my babies! I love those kids more than anything I have ever loved, and I love them just the same!” My mama argued, but her voice was softer, more conscious of her young ones who she believed were tucked into bed just a few feet away.

“I should have known you would have been this way. You haven’t seen them the same since they were born.” My mama added softly, her words bitter and heavy with an unspoken truth.

There was a heavy silence, and then, a crack. I wasn’t sure what it was, the sound of rings hitting skin and the soft clanking of another hitting the ground. I ran quietly, light on my feet as soon as the collision happened, crawling over to John B’s bed and pulling the sheets up to my chin. He didn’t even stir, so used to the feeling of my legs curling against his, expecting to wake up nose to nose when the sun would shine through his thin curtains. The arguments happened so often, it became rare that he wouldn’t wake up with me tucked into bed beside him, a nervous wreck and furrowed brows.

That was the last time I saw my mother, or heard her voice. I hadn’t known it then, but the way my father seemed distant that morning told me it was more than one of the usual fights. She wouldn’t be walking through that door again in a few days like she sometimes would, and she would never sing to me again.

I remember laying out across that old chair, pulling my small knees to my chest. Her perfume lingered on the cushion tied around the back, and her voice was carried over the breeze. She wasn’t coming back, and the pain in my father’s eyes and the churning of his stomach told me that much.

A few days later, dad called my brother and I into the living room to tell us how mama had skipped town, set off for a better life. I could tell they both blamed her, bother hated her secretly for it almost instantly, and being so young and impressionable, I nearly agreed, I nearly believed it. But I saw the way my father spoke to her and the way he had the ability to make her snap back. She deserved that life my father said she was chasing, even if deep down I knew it was a lie.

I never told my brother that dad was lying, though sometimes I did whisper it in his sleep like a prayer, like my truth would reach his dreams and taint his false sense into seeing whats real. But even as a little kid I wasn’t innocent enough to blabber on about how horrible our last living parent was. Especially not when our dad was to John B as what our mother was to me.

The chair was gone soon after, and my dad refused to tell me where he’d thrown it. At first I thought he had broken it, but he was a sensible man at times, and the extra cash lying around the kitchen told me he had sold it, and he had killed her memory too.

Years later, with barely any recollection of who she was, and lacking the foundations of which she should have built for me, sometimes I found myself curled up in that corner, my knees pulled to my chest tightly in the same ball I wound myself in all those years ago, and sometimes I found myself still calling out for her, like if she had heard how much I still needed her, she would sing for me one last time.

But I am much older now, and it has dawned on me repeatedly like some sick prayer that I am too old to be held, to be shown the affection of a mother and her infant, and I have been since the day she left.

Early mornings and stained glass windows, not from paints, but mold. Old rotten wood and dusty broken furniture. A safe haven to call home, a quiet room on the heart of the cut. My brother and I often pulled out patches of grass in the backyard, and sometimes we’d sit together on the hammock, see how high we could swing and loop our fingers around the rope to hold on.

Dad would sit inside, sometimes by the kitchen window where he could look out and watch over us, but he mainly spent his time inside of his office, which had at one point, been moms bedroom.

He used to leaning over the dirty counters, feeling the sun on his skin, letting the gentle breeze cool the back of his neck. But dad loved a lot of things, and unlike mom, he lacked a discreet touch about those things.

I guess it could be traced back to when my brother and I had just turned eight. A week after the party had rolled over, and glasses kept piling up around the house, sticky and stained a faint brown from his favorite cheap whiskey. Sometimes I tried to clean them up, and I would place them in the sink, but the colors never faded, not even after my small palms would bleed and callous.

Once, John B asked me what I was doing. He had been playing outside with Pope and JJ, and JJ had been screaming for me to come outside and be his partner in ‘signs’, our favorite childhood card game. Though, JJ and I often lost because we too, lacked the ability to be discreet in any situation.

I told him I’d be out soon, I was just doing the dishes and I’ll never forget the look on my dad’s face. The usually happy, calm man looked down at his feet with something I’ve later identified embarrassment. I never blamed dad for drinking. I figured if mom leaving was still hard on me after all this time, it must have been hard for him too.

He began using his coffee mug after that. The dark liquid less shameful in a cup that gave him the ability to not only disguise his problem, but to commit it at any time of day, because John B was too oblivious to notice, and I was too naive to believe he would.

“Bird.” Dad called for John B in the backyard, not caring how Pope and I were arguing nonsensical things over each other, waving our arms and pointing fingers. JJ happily mediated, laughing at our schoolyard taunts and remarks, encouraging us to snap back, though we all knew our words were nothing more than that, and we all loved each other a great deal too much to mean any of it.

If I hadn’t been so caught up in my own thoughts, maybe I would’ve seen the way dad was swaying. The way his knuckles were white around the frame of the door. His glasses were crooked, and his breath rotten with substances. But I didn’t notice, and so little John B happily walked towards our father with open arms.

Dad hugged him. He hugged his son and held back his tears like it was the most beautiful moment he could ever dream of. He held John B like he was precious, and not to deny that he wasn’t, to me my brother was worth more than anything in the world, but to my dad, it was something more than that, and to me, it felt that way too.

Because dad never held me, his daughter, who cleaned his dishes, and covered his tracks, and lied, and stole, and cried out for him, for some peace. He never hugged me like that. Because he blamed me.

He blamed me for my mother leaving because unlike my mother, he could never love my brother and I the same. He couldn’t love two of something if he barely wanted one. He never hit me, but he was cold, calculated, cruel when he wanted to be.

That day, at just eight years old, I sat in the grass with dirt under my nails and heavy breaths wondering would it would be like to feel the warmth of my father. Would it solve all my problems or only tear me apart further.

Because maybe if I continued to never feel the embrace of the man who gave me life, it would be easier to disassociate and pretend that it didn’t hurt. Maybe it would be easier to not like him anymore, and the unbearable guilt I carried even as an eight year old, would go away finally.

I didn’t even realize that I wasn’t fighting Pope anymore, or how my gaze had drifted over to watch how tenderly my dad held onto my brother, because I couldn’t even feel the way tears burned into my skin in slow droplets that fell into my lap.

JJ hugged me then, and it felt special, I felt special, because I knew even at that age that affection was a rarity in my life, and JJ, as much as I knew he loved me, was not a physical person. Still, he held me from behind while Pope spewed out apologies, swearing on everything he believed that he hadn’t meant a word. I could tell that he too, felt confused because we had gone after each other multiple times and never had I broken down.

In that moment it felt like I had gained something more than a hug from my father, but a silent acceptance with my best friends. Because soon, even Pope shut up and looked to where JJ’s eyes were glued, and even as flustered as he had been, everyone who sat in the dirt that day understood that no words that were thrown around had ever hurt me, nor did they even reach me, because what had made me so inconsolable was the fact that my happy brother received all the praise while I laid out in the lawn, crying until I dry heaved, ignored by someone who I only ever wanted love from.

“It’s gonna be alright, Y/n/n.” JJ mumbled quietly into my ear, and for the first time, I didn’t believe a word he said.

“Dad, dad stop.” I defended myself for the first time when I was thirteen. I was only half his height and he was triple my age. I thought that somehow, if I stopped enabling his behavior, he would get better. He would see how much I cared and he would finally love me.

That was the first time dad yelled at me, really yelled at me.

My dad refused to lay a hand on me, so when my friends ask if I was ever abused, I tell them no because it feels laughable to compare my psychological trauma to the welts on their ribs when they barely escape home.

When JJ asks me whats wrong, why my eyes look so puffy in the afternoon, after I stumble out of the house in the same clothes as the night before, I tell him I didn’t get enough sleep, because how do you tell your best friend who has been climbing through my bedroom window since we were nine that my dad hurts me too, you just can’t see it.

Dad called me a liar and a psychopath when I told him he was hurting me. He told me that it wasn’t true because he loved my brother and I and he would never lay a hand on either of us, not then and not ever. Dad says that he deserves respect, that I’m only a kid and he’s the adult so I better start acting like it. He tells me that it’s like a switch went off in my head ever since I became a teenager and all of a sudden I can’t stand him. But that’s not true.

The truth was even at such a young age, I always knew I would lay my life on the line for my dad. He meant more to me than I could ever express, because to me, he was the man who hadn’t left, even when he was given all the right reasons to bail out. So, for years I tried to cover for him, clean up and take care of everyone to show him what I could never articulate into a phrase of my affection. Still, he preferred John B’s half hearted sentiment over anything I could give him.

I wished so deeply that I was born different, that I wasn’t me. Because maybe if I wasn’t the clone of my mother, maybe then my father would like me more.

I guess the worst part of it all is that I can never be sure if my father’s anger could have been my mother’s, only given to him in her absence. Would his hands have been hers as I grew older? Would her hugs turn into the white knuckles wrapped around my throat? And would her songs become the vile words my father threw at me in drunken rage?

Maybe if I kept hiding behind the cruelties of his excuses for the way I cowered around him, then John B wouldn’t have to live in the same sense of shock I have been stuck in for a decade.

Dad never laid a hand on me, but he didn’t have to. He didn’t have to touch me to kick me in the stomach, all he had to do was show me how he was capable of being a loving father, but never put me on the receiving end.

He found time for John B, even as he buried himself in his work, searching for some gold that seemed far away and unimportant. He locked himself away while I slid food under the door, and I watched as he kissed my brother’s forehead and bid him goodnight, leaving me to sleep on the couch.

Even as a thirteen year old girl, an age so tender and impressionable, I felt so much more mature than I should have. I felt the effects of neglect I couldn’t wish on anyone. In my self pity, even after he gave me every reason to turn on him, I couldn’t hate him, so I began to hate myself.

“Dad, when was the first time you felt love?” John B asked one night. For the first time in a long time, we were all lying in the living room. My brother hung over my dad’s lap and my head resting on the floor as I sank off of the old dusty beanbag.

Dad thought carefully, his large hands splayed out against my brother’s small back.

“The day you were born.” He answered thoughtfully, and I watched as my brother’s eyes lit up.

I had every right to scream, to beg for an answer because the little girl trapped inside of me didn’t deserve this kind of pain from her own blood. But I didn’t. I sniffled and sat up, storming out of the house that I wasn’t even sure I could call home. How foolish I felt for ever believing my dad would ever love us the same. How stupid I felt for thinking that my brother, who inherited our fathers name, would never be preferred over my mother’s child.

“Y/n Routledge, get back inside now!” Dad yelled, storming down the porch to catch me. But I had become good at slipping away, and neglectful parents raise angry children.

“Go to hell!” It was the first time I swore at my dad. Even I shocked myself, because it had never occurred to me that I could do that.

“Why do you have to ruin everything?” He asked me, and it made me want to laugh because when had I ever done anything to him that wasn’t in good faith? “Just like your mama! Storming off!” My dad cursed under his breath, not really bothering to chase after me. How easy would it have been for me to have ran away.

I could live under a tree, a big willow with drooping leaves and heavy branches. I could make friends with the squirrels and be a good mother to them, the mother I never had, but always dreamed of.

“My mama was a good woman!” I cried out, suddenly overwhelmed with my freshly made emotions, ones that felt too strong for a new teenage girl.

“You know nothing about her! She left, I’m the one who stayed!” Dad yelled, as if it wasn’t painfully obvious.

I did something I had never done before. In all of my life, not once had I ever blamed my dad for my mom leaving. Not even after I heard their fights from when I was no taller than the notches in the doorframes, and not after he began to spend his paychecks on alcohol instead of new shoes for John B and I. I never blamed him because he always blamed me, and if it made me feel so worthless, then how could I ever do that to him?

“I don’t blame her!” I fought back, tears burning my eyes almost as hard as the back of my throat stung. “And I don’t blame you.”

I couldn’t stay mad at dad for more than a few minutes. I couldn’t blame him, and I couldn’t lie and say I did when I didn’t. Dad didn’t say anything then, so I turned on my heels in the dirt and I stormed off.

That night, I knocked on JJ’s window. I was wearing an old Star Wars t-shirt that he once called nerdy and my rainbow pajama pants. I looked thirteen going on seven, my cupcake slippers caked in mud.

But JJ didn’t pull on my braids like my brother did when we fought, and he didn’t poke fun at my pants. He opened his window and leaned out, his messy blond hair and tired eyes adjusting to admire my face.

“Y/n/n? What happened? Why are you here?” He asked, and I could tell he sounded a little on edge. His dad used to be discreet about how he dealt with JJ, but after middle school had began, he stopped caring as JJ stuck around the same kids he grew up with. So, I stayed as quiet as possible, not wanting any trouble.

“I just missed you.” A lie. The first of many lies I would spew out to my best friend because I felt too awkward to confess my own feelings and burden him when he had it so much worse.

“Oh.” His face lit up slightly, and I could tell my words made him feel nice. “C’mon, I’ll help you in. Wouldn’t wanna lose a slipper.” He teased with a toothy grin, a smart ass from birth.

I playfully smacked his shoulder, holding my breath until my feet hit his dirty floors. He held onto my arms longer than he had to, and I wondered if he could feel my body shaking.

“Don’t make fun, okay? I like my slippers.” I smiled, blinking away the old tears that I cried on the way over, and pawing at the scrapes from the bushes I cut through to get to his house quicker.

“I would never!” He defended softly, his arms raised in a scouts honor. “Cross my heart, cupcake.”

Sometimes I wished that JJ and I were older, I thought about it often. It kept me awake after long fights with dad, that I would one day save up all the money I could scrape together and take JJ with me. We’d go around the globe, just me, him, and open ocean surrounding us, and only the scars on our skin and in our heads to remind us of the past. But we wouldn’t care, because we would be there for each other, and the ocean would wash away the evil men on the shore.

“I wish I had a more appreciative daughter!” Dad yelled at me as he packed up his things in a hurry, chasing yet another lead on his quest for the gold, a passion driven by his valiant greed.

It hurt, but it would have hurt me a lot more three years ago. At sixteen, his words meant nothing to me, because at sixteen, I had finally come to terms with the fact that my dad simply did not like me, and that was okay.

So instead of sitting in self pity, or swallowing myself whole in a another bottomless spiral of self hatred and depression, I finally found the spark that was burning so fiercely somewhere deep inside of me.

“Fuck you!” The second time I swore at dad. “Fuck you and all your promises to get better!” I stepped forward, crossing into his office, which I swore to never go in, not only because it reeked of him, but because it was only a reminder of how quickly he let mom go, and how quickly he shifted the blame onto me, an innocent infant with no real chance to do anything to anyone.

“Fuck me? Oh, fuck me? Your father? I have done everything for you! I have given you the chances my own parents couldn’t give me and you are so ungrateful! I pray for a day you wake up and see the damage you cause around here!” Dad spat, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck all your pride and fuck all your prayers!” I stepped closed again, and my knuckles pawed at his shirt desperately, my eyes looking up at my father, who stood ten times taller than me, or so it felt that way. “All this time I waited like a fool, because you’re my dad. Above anything else, before the treasure and before the alcoholic, you’re supposed to be my dad!”

“Are you drunk?” He asked. I wasn’t, but I might as well have been with how quickly my mind passed through emotions.

Here he was standing in front of me, and here I was already done processing all my grief. He wasn’t dead, I could feel each breath under the palms of my hands, yet for years it felt like walking next to a ghost with how absent and withdrawn he always was from my life.

“All I ever wanted was a father.” I told him softly. “Was that too much to ask?” I deserved to know, but I should have known better.

My dad was an asshole, and he always would be. It was in his fashion that he would brush right past me, unfeeling and lacking empathy for his own daughter.

I felt angry. Before, I felt betrayed, sad, even embarrassed by him, and by how easily I let him get away with all his faults simply because he was my father and if my brother loved him, then there had to be some good in him. But there wasn’t.

Here he was, walking out of my life, the keys to the car that I paid for in his hands, dangling just as carelessly as he was with my life. I don’t know why that set me off, but it had. I heard my feet slap against the floors before I felt myself moving.

“Give back my damn keys!” I caught up behind him, snatching the carabiner from his dirty knuckles and pushing him into the wall. He wouldn’t hit, but god, had he made me wish I could. “I paid off that loan it’s under my name!” I stuffed the clasp into my back pocket tightly.

“You wanna leave, thats fine. But you’re walking out of my life if you’re going!” I breathed out heavily, the frames on the wall rocking back and forth from the force he hit the wood with.

“What is wrong with you? Where’s my sweet little girl I used to love?” My knuckles loosened on his shirt again, but my elbows remained pressed into his stomach.

“Loved? Like you ever loved me. You couldn’t have, because you wouldn’t have taken it out on me. You wouldn’t have gotten rid of her existence in spite of me. You wouldn’t have tossed that damn chair, and you wouldn’t have burned the things she kept for me!” I wanted to cry, but more than that, I wanted him so see how exhausted I felt.

“All I wanted was a fucking father, John.”

“And you got one, and look at you, you’re a strong young woman now!” He laughed bitterly, fighting against my shaky hold. He could barely look at me. I wondered if he was asked, could he even tell a friend the color of my eyes? If I were to wash up on the shore, could he even report the body? Would my grave lay empty simply because he hadn’t known me for years, and he never would.

“I was a little girl! I was a little girl, and I still am! I’m sixteen, dad! Stop treating me like some type of problem when I’ve been nothing but great to you!” I cried this time, pushing him harder until the wood splintered and my arms gave out. We both stumbled away from each other.

“All I ever wanted was a father, but for the first time, finally I can see you are the leader of the landslide.” I scoffed pathetically, staring him down with a broken heart.

I deserved to smash all the plates in the house, to rip off all the wallpaper and spray paint the rotting white paint bright blue just in spite of my father. But even though he wasn’t kind to me, I couldn’t ignore how good of a dad he had been to John B, and more than anything I ever held close to me, I loved my brother dearly. I wiped my tears and let dad walk out on me. Neither of us said a word.

He clapped John B over the back when he got outside, promising to return soon, this time with the promise of an unpromising fortune. He swore that he loved my brother more than anything, called him by the nickname he earned long ago, and left without saying another word.

I watched wordlessly from the front steps.

We lost the gold. Once or twice. The gold we had found first was a slap to the face, but having the cross stolen right out from under us felt so much worse, especially with Pope being tied into it on such a deeper level.

We all sat around the first now, our bodies tucked close together like a perfectly woven blanket, arms tangled around each other and weak laughter echoing around the smokey fire. We didn’t have much left to fight for, but to me, I felt deeply that in a more important way, we had gotten the gold, and we had been filthy rich all along.

The gold we’d found couldn’t be measured on a scale and dealt between the seven of us evenly, but unmeasurable and sought after by anyone who understood. Because in the end, we still had each other, and to me, this was family.

JJ’s blonde hair tickled the top of my forehead. We sat close together on the low swinging hammock in the backyard. His arms wrapped around me tightly, and my legs thrown over his lap carelessly. We talked quietly with Kiara about the little things. We found alternatives to seek out her dreams of preserving the ecosystem and to swim with the turtles.

It all felt so real, so domestic for a group of friends who were always running from something. It felt like the first time in a while I had time to stop and catch my breath.

“What are you thinking about, cupcake?” The nickname rolled nicely off the tongue, his crooked smile endearing to me, and his eyes sweeter than any doe I’d ever encountered.

I sighed contently, cuddling closer to the boy and soaking up his warmth greedily. Though we both never said it would loud, it always felt nice to share close proximity with someone we trusted so deeply. To feel affection for someone when we had grown up scarcely to it.

Dad had been dead for nearly two years now, and the truth was, I wasn’t sixteen anymore. I wasn’t the sad little thirteen year old who hated herself more than anyone else, who climbed through the blondes window at midnight in her muddy slippers, and I wasn’t the timid toddler who could barely walk without tripping on her blanket she dragged around everywhere for a pathetic kind of comfort.

John B took it hard at first. I wanted so desperately to tell him everything. He was my older brother after all, but most days now I felt like it was my job to look out for him. It always had been. He was my brother and I would never have let him suffer, but sometimes it was hard not to wish for once I could selfishly struggle openly and degrade the man he saw as his hero.

It would be wrong for me to taint that image of a dead man, a man I still believed John B was openly grieving, even if he said he was okay now. You are never okay after losing someone like that, no matter how evil, and I think he forgets that he was still my father, even if he never saw us in the same context as he saw him.

“Thinking about how comfortable you are.” I mumbled, stretching my limbs out tiredly along his tanned skin. I laid like a lap dog on his chest, my head tucked under his chin and my hands playing with the rough fabric of his dirty t-shirt.

“Not about John B?” He prodded quietly. JJ always knew when the wheels in my head were turning, just like I could always tell when something was wrong. It was like our super powers, to know each other so well we couldn’t hide anything.

“He’ll come back, he wouldn’t leave you.” He assured softly, his fingers dancing gently along my curved spine. It felt like oddly in times like these, the calm after the storms, that it truly would always be just JJ and I against the world. Like we were the only two people who truly understood each other, through the laughter and under the deepest scars littering our skin.

“I know. He’s my brother, he wouldn’t do that.” I agreed, and just as I was about to let the serenity of the lazy swinging of the hammock lull me into a sleepy haze, the crunching of boots on leaves alerted me elsewhere.

There he stood, his clothes still grimy from the tropical heat and wet mud from Barbados. His hair was stuck to his forehead in the same curl pattern from a few days ago, but the deep rooted brunette seemed to become a shade of dirty blonde from all the harsh sun. His skin was tanned and covered in sweat, but he was still my brother, and he had finally come home.

I sat up quickly from JJ’s arms, pushing off of his chest with so much force, I felt him bend at the waist and let out a puff of air. I shouted an apology before wrapping my brother in a bone crushing hug, relief filling my stomach and the unease dispersing finally.

“Where have you been!” I pushed him away with a smile, I didn’t even notice the seriousness in his gaze as he called out for me softly.

“Are you crazy? Staying behind like that in a foreign country?” I laughed breathlessly, my eyes searching his face and settling on his lack of a smile.

“Y/n/n.” He called out again softly.

“What? Whats wrong?” I breathed out, my smile fading slightly into a dimmer smirk, confidence slipping from my face into a deep furrow between my brows.

“John B, what happened? Did someone hurt you…d-did-“ My happy touch became a panicked grip on his clothes, my knuckles white and face pale as I searched for answers.

“Y/n.” He cooed calmly, the ease between his eyes and brows calming the pace of my breath. “I found him.” He said with a soft smile.

“What?” I breathed out. “Who?”

I racked my brain for answers, mulling over every possible explanation for what could have made me stay behind, leave behind all the good that had surrounded him for the past few years, and the good that would continue to grow with him.

“Don’t tell me you forgot your own dad?” An old voice called out from behind the brush, long greasy hair and an un-groomed bears covering a good portion of his old face. From his glasses alone I could see who it was, never mind the voice that often haunted me even in my sleep, the ghostly presence that lingered even as I slept on my own.

He was a poltergeist haunting my life, torturing my soul until I bled out completely blue. Had the punishment of forcing a child to clean up his mess for over a decade not been enough karma for all the bad I hadn’t done yet? Would I forever be stuck in the broken glass of his aftermath? How much longer would I have to hide behind the shell of who I once was just to please those who don’t yet know about who I am, of who I could have become?

I decided then I couldn’t do it, and I let go of my brother, and I let go of my pride.

“No.” I spoke softly, looking between the boys. John B looked more and more like dad every day.

I watched my brother’s face crumble in confusion, my heels dragging against the dirt, I backed away like a scared dog, no longer the eager retriever with a bird at the door. My tail was between my legs.

“Y/n/n, it’s dad!” John B gestured like it would click for me, but that was not my father. Maybe by blood, but he would never be more than that to me, just evidence that linked me back to John B.

“No, I-I can’t.” I tried to explain through staggering breaths, choking out my words like tranquilized venom.

“I know it’s a lot, but everything’s going to be the way it was.”

My back hit JJ’s chest, and for the first time in the last few seconds, the ringing that blocked out my brothers bargaining seemed to fall deaf on my ears, and all I could hear was the sound of my heart beat dying in my chest.

“No, you don’t get it.” I cried out, though my eyes felt dry. “You don’t get it and you never will!” I begged silently for him to see the way the spark seemed to die as soon as dad came back, the way that my shoulders slumped and the confident young woman I had become faded back into the teenage daughter who wished for nothing more than to run far away from here.

“Y/n, come on, don’t be like this.” Dad tried to reason, like it was his say to decide how I would handle his return, like he could decide when I stopped feeling the effects of his abuse, because that was a word I had learned to call it, because that is what it was. Abuse.

“How dare you!” I shouted, anger making my skin hot. I felt queasy, like the world was crashing down on me, betrayal hot on my face. He didn’t know, my brother didn’t know because I protected him from it.

Couldn’t he ever notice how much happier I seemed after dad left? How I finally started living for the moments between us instead of for the times when I could go to sleep, where I could quietly call out for our mother who I didn’t know.

JJ knew, of course he knew. He knew by the time dad left. I’d confessed it all in a drunken ramble in the backyard after he commented on how happy I seemed, and though I laughed when I told him, neither of us found it funny. He apologized for making me feel like my problems were minuscule compared to his, but I assured him it was my own self doubt, and never his own actions. Neglectful parents raise insecure kids.

So if my best friend had known, if he could see just how happy I was without the burden of my father’s blame, how could my other half not see it? My own DNA? It led me to believe he was neglectful of me in his own ways, pushing aside the obvious signs of my own struggle just for his own benefit, for the gain of a relationship with the father that severed ours long ago.

“How dare you come back here after all the shit you put me through!” I cried, and I hit him. I hit him in the chest and I watched as he kept his ground, his shoes not even sliding against the mud. I had grown weaker without his constant fighting, and it showed in just how quickly the flame flickered out.

“How dare you come back and expect me to just be okay with it when all you’ve given me is years of therapy that I can’t afford!” I hit him in the jaw, and this time, I felt a pair of arms pull me away, my hot tears burning their tan skin. I kicked and I screamed, and my brother dragged me off until I couldn’t reach him anymore.

“You’re a piece of shit! I owe you nothing!” I pointed at him, staring him down as he rubbed the quickly blossoming bruise on his skin, his beard covering the welt almost entirely. The mark didn’t make me feel better at all, and instead, I only felt more pathetic.

“I gave you everything!” My limbs fell limp, all fight leaving my body as my tired joints ached, my head falling onto JJ’s shoulder. The boys passed me off like some kind of child, and looking at the man who tormented me my entire youth, I felt just like the timid child once again, like all my growth meant nothing.

The bright moon was replaced with the yellow glow of the kitchen lights, clouds traded in for floral curtains that hung crooked over the windows, and the cool grass fading into hard wood beneath my feet.

“Y/n, hey…” JJ cooed, his hands brushing against my shoulders.

“I just…fuck…I couldn’t do it. I don’t know why I hit him, I don’t know, I just-“

“Y/n, cupcake, hey, baby,” he called for me again, a plethora of nicknames tumbling from his lips that I had never heard him call me before, but all that held a genuine affection in them. I stopped my senseless rambling at the tenderness of his touch and softness in his voice.

“It’s okay to not be okay.” He affirmed quietly. “You earned your anger, it’s okay.”

I nodded, my gaze drifting from just beyond his shoulder were my brother stood dumbfounded with my father, looking at him with a mix of question and anger towards the man that he once saw with stars in his eyes.

“Jay, I don’t know what to do.” I confessed quietly, feeling like we were ten again, sharing secrets through a game of telephone, just the two of us stuffed in the corner of my bedroom at midnight, my father unaware that the blonde was still in the house, let alone snuck in my room.

“That’s okay.” He nodded again, and this time his palms molded against the apples of my cheeks, thumbs brushing away my stale tears.

“It’s gonna be okay, we can run, or we can stay and kick him out, or we can do nothing.” I focused on the way he said each option with the use of we, because in our minds, we always escaped hell together.

“Can we just stay here for a little longer?” My eyes found his, and I saw the way his flickered down in a way that felt too intimate for just best friends.

“We can do whatever we want, it’s you and me against the universe, cupcake, and we’re winning it.” He promised.

And just as I always had, I believed every word he said.

#jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank fluff #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x you #jjmaybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jjmaybankangst #maybank #maybankxyou

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year ago

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Finally His Year - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Collab with my soulmate @munson-blurbs 🩵

Summary: It’s Eddie’s birthday and what he really wants is you.

Note: In honor of JQ’s 30th birthday woohoo 🎉

Words: 4.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The Munson house is buzzing when you arrive. There are three unfamiliar cars parked in front of it, probably from the other people celebrating Eddie’s birthday with him. You have his gift tucked under your arm and a Tupperware of raspberry and white chocolate chip cookies in that same hand, using the free one to ring the doorbell.

You barely have time to pull your forefinger back before the door swings open. Luke peeks his head around, grinning when he sees you standing there.

“Good evening, madam-a-zell,” he says in a vague concoction of European accents—none of them even resembling French. “May I take your—ooh, cookies!”

Laughing, you reach over and ruffle his mop of curls. “These are for Daddy, Luke-miere.” When his face falls, you quickly add, “but maybe he’ll share.”

This placates him, and he skips off to announce your arrival. As soon as he says your name, you hear the sound of Eddie’s feet shuffling towards the entryway.

“You made it!” He says with a huge smile. In your dreams, he pulls you in for a hug and kisses you tenderly. But this is real life, so he just stands with his hands in his pockets.

“I made it,” you agree awkwardly. It takes a moment for you to remember everything you’re holding. “Oh, these are all for you.” You maneuver it all, handing him the cylindrical tube and then the plastic container. Luke loudly clears his throat, and you grin. “Unless you feel like sharing the cookies.”

Eddie takes the presents, shaking his head at his younger son’s interruption. “I’ll consider it. Thank you, Sweetheart.”

That stupid nickname. You love and hate it; as much as he calls you that, you know you’re not his sweetheart. Because he’s married.

His wife—God, you hated that she held that title—was sipping a full glass of wine. Though she’s standing next to Nancy, the two aren’t exchanging any words.

You should go over there. Brittany is technically one of your employers, so it’s best not to rock the boat. Unless, of course, you could ensure she’d fall overboard.

Plastering a feigned smile on your face, you walk over to her. Before you can even get out a hello, she points towards Ryan and Luke.

“They have to go to bed at nine o’clock, so just have them in their pajamas with their teeth brushed by then.”

Embarrassment crawls under your skin. “Oh, I, um, I’m actually here for the party. Not to babysit.”

Brittany doesn’t seem thrown off at all; she just rolls her eyes and turns to Nancy. “Didn’t realize people still needed parties after they turned thirty,” she quips.

To her credit, Nancy just shrugs and walks to you, ignoring the snark hurled your way. She guides you over to where the rest of the group is chatting.

“Can you say, ‘Uncle Dusty’?” Dustin asks little Tiffany Mayfield-Sinclair, gently bouncing her in his arms. “C’mon…Un-kul Duh-stee!”

“Elmo!” Tiffany claps her chubby hands together gleefully, unbothered by Dustin’s frustration.

“I think your kid’s broken,” he grumbles, handing the little girl back to Lucas.

“She was fine until you held her,” Lucas quips as he holds his daughter against his chest.

“Or maybe she just thinks you look like Elmo,” Steve offers with a shrug.

“What is this, high school?” Dustin asks, looking between his friends. “Ganging up on me?”

Eddie shakes his head and gives a loud tsk.

“It’s because you’re not part of the club, Henderson.”

“Oh, because I’m not a dad?” Dustin asks, gesturing with a motion that looks very similar to jazz hands. “That’s fine. Because I’m the coolest uncle these kids have. Someone has to be that figure in their lives.”

“Are they always like this?” you ask Nancy with an amused chuckle.

“Since high school,” Nancy confirms with a sigh. “The sad thing is, I can see how they��ve matured since then.”

You giggle at her response before there’s a weighted thunk against the front of your legs. Ryan’s chocolate eyes peer up at you, a huge grin on his round face.

“Well hello, you,” you greet him, reaching down to ruffle his honey colored hair.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” Ryan cheers. Warmth spreads in your chest at his words. You’re touched until he opens his mouth again to ask, “Luke said you brought cookies?”

“I did,” you tell him, tugging on a lock of hair that’s fallen into his eyes. “But they’re for your dad. It’s up to him if he wants to share with you guys.” Of course he will, you think to yourself. Eddie loves these boys more than Luke loves his Hot Wheels collection; and as you’re reminded by the five-year-old almost every day you babysit, that’s a lot.

“Maybe after he opens his presents,” Ryan muses, more to himself than you. “Or after we have the cake Aunt Nancy made.

“Ryan!”

A little girl’s call echoes around the room. The older Munson boy gives you a quick smile before running towards the kitchen where Natalie Harrington is drawing a picture.

Something Ryan said sticks in your brain though. You turn towards Nancy, brow pinching slightly.

“You made Eddie’s cake?” you ask.

The deep breath Nancy takes lets you know there’s more to the story than she’s probably going to tell you. After all, she hardly knows you. The two of you had only met a handful of times since you started watching the boys last year and none of the visits were particularly long. It's an annoyed sigh that Nancy heaves out, her petite shoulders falling with the release. She’s not annoyed at you, if her kindness and body language towards you are anything to go on. So, what’s got her so tense?

“I did,” Nancy affirms. She’s quiet for a moment and at first you think that’s all she’s going to say. But the way her head bobbles slightly from side to side and her jaw muscles tighten and release, you can tell she’s picking her words carefully before she speaks. To her, you’re her friend’s employee so how much should she reveal? “Steve, um, called Eddie yesterday morning to confirm the time for the party today. Eddie was headed out the door just as Steve called. He said he was going to the grocery store. To buy his own birthday cake.”

“His own? Why couldn’t his wife get it? Or better yet, why didn’t she make one for him with the boys?” Your mind floats back to when you and the boys made a cake for Ryan’s birthday over the summer. It was messy and overly sweet, but the love and care put into it are what made it special.

“That’s what I said,” Nancy grits out through a clenched jaw. After a few moments, you see Nancy’s body deflate. The tension rolls off her like a wave returning to the sea. “So, I made him one. Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.”

“Carrot cake?” you ask, wrinkling up your nose. It’s not that you disliked the dessert, it just wasn’t what you would’ve pegged Eddie for on his birthday.

“I know,” Nancy says with a small chuckle. She shakes her head in amusement, wavy locks of hair swaying at the movement. “He can’t be typical, right? Not chocolate or vanilla—or even strawberry, but carrot cake. That’s Eddie for ya.”

The party continues with casual conversations: milestones Tiffany is meeting, work updates for the “kids” (who were now full-fledged adults, but would always be freshmen to Eddie), and a tentatively scheduled reunion for their high school Dungeons & Dragons club. It only came to a stop when there was a crash in the kitchen.

Everyone’s heads whipped around at the sound, worried that one of the Munson or Harrington children was causing chaos, but the reason for the clamor was none other than Brittany. She’d dropped the cheese and cracker board on the ground and was laughing like she’d just heard the funniest joke.

“Oopsie daisy!” She cackles, nearly falling over with the force of her laugh. While the rest of you had been casually sipping wine or beer, she had been drinking like she was at a frat party.

“Jesus,” Nancy mutters under her breath.

Eddie glances at Steve, who nods at Lucas, and the two of them step in towards Brittany.

“C’mon, time for bed, Britt,” Steve says as patiently as he can manage. He hooks an arm around her, and Lucas does the same on the other side. It’s obvious that this isn’t the first time they’ve done this. A well-oiled machine, ensuring that the kids are none the wiser.

Small miracles, you suppose.

“We can do presents when they get back,” Max jumps in, trying to keep the attention away from the drunk woman stumbling away.

Eddie nods in agreement, collecting the various gifts from the kitchen table and placing them next to his spot on the sofa. When he sits, he spreads his legs enough that you can imagine yourself between them, pressing kisses up his thighs to his—

No. Stop it.

When Steve and Lucas return, Eddie reaches for the first package. Though the room is filled with excited murmurs and crinkling wrapping paper, you can still make out the quiet conversation between Nancy and her husband.

“Did you hold a pillow over her head?”

“No, Nance.”

“Damn it.”

You tuck your lips into your mouth to stifle a smile.

Eddie pulls out a pair of sneakers from the box: white with a black check mark on the side. He immediately slides them on his feet, wiggling his toes around to ensure enough room. “These are perfect! My old ones were falling apart.”

“We know,” Nancy says wryly as Steve proudly announces, “You said you liked mine, so I got you the same ones.”

“Aww!” Dustin coos, pursing his lips exaggeratedly. “You guys are twins!

Eddie discreetly flips him off before continuing through his stash. Theo and Natalie Harrington made him woven friendship bracelets, which he immediately slid onto his left wrist. When he opens Dustin’s gift, a mug printed with the words “rock ‘n roll” underneath a cartoon rock and dinner roll, Wayne proclaims that it’s even cornier than the ones in the trailer.

Eddie’s face lights up at the present from Max and Lucas—a new Walkman and some heavy metal cassettes.

A pit forms in your stomach: is your gift going to be enough? Will he even like it? Was this whole thing a bad—

“Holy shit.”

You look up to see Eddie staring awestruck at the now-unwrapped present; specifically, the present you got for him. It’s an autographed Metallica poster that you’d spotted at the mall months ago, before his birthday was even a consideration. You’d bought it and kept it safely in your room, waiting for the perfect time to give it to him.

“Sweetheart, this is…” He just shakes his head, blinking misty eyes. “Wow. I, um…thank you,” he finally manages.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie had seen that same poster just last week. He had Brittany’s shopping bags clutched in his hands when he walked towards the record store.

Kirk Hammett’s signature called to him like a siren.

Eddie was just about ready to pay for it when Brittany marched over, plucking it from his grip and mumbling something about not having room for any more of his stupid music shit.

That had been the end of that.

“You’re welcome,” you say with a small shrug, as if it was nothing at all. “I saw it and immediately thought of you.” That wasn’t too much to say, right? It’s normal to think of someone when you see something you know they’d love, right? Even if that person is your boss?

Once Luke stops scavenging through his father’s presents like one might be hidden there for him, he looks up at his dad with wide, pleading eyes that he most definitely inherited from the man.

“Time for caaaake?”

Eddie snorts and playfully rolls his eyes. A ringed hand comes down to ruffle the little boy’s curls.

“I guess we could have cake now.”

The Munson boys and the Harrington sibling duo cheer in excitement and beat everyone else into the kitchen. All you can hear as the kids disappear into the next room is an I’m okay! from Luke.

Steve taps you on the shoulder as you step over the threshold into the kitchen.

“Hey, could you give me a hand with the cake?” he asks.

“Sure.” You follow Steve over to the refrigerator, silently wondering how many women had actually denied the handsome man anything when he asked in such a smooth voice.

The cake looks delicious as Steve pulls it out of the fridge. Nancy definitely put in some work to make sure it turned out this lovely. The cream cheese frosting is smooth on all sides with delicate piping lining the edge of the rectangular sheet cake. In a beautiful scrawl that is far nicer than your own handwriting, she had written “Happy Birthday Eddie!” in black gel icing.

Steve sets the cake down on the gray granite counter and reaches for a drugstore bag that has a pack of candles and a lighter in it. The two of you work as a team to plug the cake with the multicolored striped sticks and take turns lighting different sides of the cake.

“You got it?” Steve asks as he steps over towards the light switches on the wall.

“Yep,” you assure him as you carefully lift the flaming desert off the counter. Turning around to face the table proves the most difficult part as you slowly spin your body while keeping the cake steady.

Eddie is seated at the table, kids surrounding him on all sides as they clamor about what’s taking so long with the cake. Taking so long? You thought you and Steve worked pretty efficiently together.

“Watch out rugrats,” Dustin says, clapping a hand on Luke’s shoulder and pulling him out of your way.

You give the curly haired man a grateful smile before you slide the cake onto the table right in front of Eddie. As you go to pull your arms away, pale, calloused fingers reach up and rest against your skin for a moment.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Eddie says.

All you did was carry a cake over but you’re more than glad to receive praise from your boss any time that you can.

Steve flips the kitchen lights off and everyone breaks into a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday. Ryan stands right in front of you as you sing, and you rest your hands on his small shoulders.

“Make a wish!” Luke calls from Dustin’s side once the singing ended. He watches as his dad purses his lips, thinking of a wish. The dim lighting in the room may be playing tricks on you, but you could’ve sworn Eddie’s eyes flickered over to you before he took a deep breath and blew out all thirty-something of the candles on the first try.

“Yay!” Luke cheers while everyone else claps. “Whatcha wish for?”

Ryan scoffs and rolls his eyes at his little brother. “He can’t tell you or it won’t come true.”

“For my last birthday I wished for a pet,” Luke says.

“Is that why you dug up the worm in the backyard?” Eddie asks.

“Yep,” Luke announces, a proud smile on his face.

“Wormy Munson is missed,” Ryan says, patting his little brother’s shoulder.

The attention quickly turns from squiggly little pets when Nancy asks the room, “Who wants a piece?”

“Me!” Four children’s hands shoot up at the same time, but Nancy just shakes her head at them.

“Birthday boy gets first crack at it,” she says as she slices a piece and transfers it to a Darth Vader paper plate. Nancy delivers that and a plastic fork to Eddie before returning to the counter to cut slices for the rest of the guests.

When you get your piece of cake, you slip into a seat next to Eddie’s at the table.

“So, carrot cake, huh?” you ask him with a playful smirk on your face.

“Hey, gotta get vegetables into these kids somehow,” Eddie says, reaching behind him to tickle Ryan’s belly. The older boy laughs and moves out of his dad’s reach.

“Broccoli brownies next?” you ask, a shit eating grin on your face before you pop a chunk of cake into your mouth.

“Such a smart ass,” Eddie teases, scooping some of his icing onto his pinky and wiping it off on the tip of your nose. Both boys giggle as you try to reach it with your tongue, trying to stretch it out as far as possible to lick it off. Though the boys found it funny, Eddie had an entirely different feeling wash over him as he watched your tongue snake out to try and lick the white substance off your face. His pants tighten and Eddie shifts in his seat, trying to hide his crotch further beneath the table.

Guests drift in and out of the kitchen with their plates of cake, mingling with one another out in the living room. You offer to collect the paper plates up for the garbage once everyone is done. You’re carrying the stack back towards the kitchen when you hear Steve and Eddie having a conversation in there. It’s pretty clear this is just meant to be between them, but when you hear Steve’s question to his best friend, your feet become glued to the floor.

“Think you’ll finally get lucky tonight since it’s your birthday?”

Eddie snorts. “It doesn’t seem like it.” You can practically picture him nodding his head in the direction of his bedroom where Brittany is probably snoring her ass off as she sleeps off her alcohol. You really hope she has a hangover tomorrow.

“Not what I meant, dude,” Steve replies.

This catches you off guard. Who could Steve possibly be talking about if not Brittany? Does… A sickening thought winds its way through your brain, claws taking hold in those places that are already prone to insecurities. Does Eddie have a girlfriend? It’s not like you would judge him for it after Brittany’s whoring around is common knowledge. But it drives an ice pick through your heart just picturing Eddie with his own awful, evil wife. Knowing he might be with someone who could be kind and caring should comfort you—but it doesn’t. It makes you want to tear your skin off to think of Eddie with anyone else but you. Because if he wasn’t going to be with Brittany, you wanted him to be with you. And if you didn’t even get a chance to show him what the two of you could be together? The idea threatened to destroy you.

“Watch it Harrington,” Eddie answers Steve, his voice low. It’s the closest thing to a warning you’ve ever heard from him.

A familiar toddler’s cry abruptly ends their conversation and your now-agonizing eavesdropping. Eddie shakes his head, giving Steve one last glare as he walks out of the kitchen, and looks over at a wailing Tiffany Mayfield-Sinclair.

Ryan scrunches his face. “Daddy, play her the song!”

“Yeah, play it!” Luke echoes, hands pressed to his ears.

Now you’re intrigued. “What song?”

Eddie sighs. “Boys, I don’t think anyone wants to hear me play—”

“Au contraire,” Dustin butts in with a smirk. He hands Eddie his acoustic guitar, propped up in the corner. “I think we’d all love a little concert.”

Eddie gives you a look that pleads help me out here, but you’re already invested.

“Concert! Concert!” You chant, laughing when the others join in.

He doesn’t say anything, just slips the strap over his shoulder and quickly tunes the guitar.

“If…you’re…happy and you know it, clap your hands!”

Everyone in the room claps twice. Everyone except Tiffany, who is still wailing.

“If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands!”

Same result.

“All right, all right. Let’s skip to a different verse.” Eddie takes in the baby’s squealing form.

“If…you’re…angry and you know it, do a growl.” He lets out the most ridiculous roar you’ve ever heard, and you can’t help but laugh.

From her mother’s arms, Tiffany lets out a roar of her own. Your giggle catches her attention, and she reaches out for you to hold her.

For a moment, Eddie believes his heart is going to implode from the sweet scene in front of him. He wills himself to concentrate on playing, but the sight of you holding a baby girl weakens his resolve. How many times has he daydreamed about you holding his baby girl that he shares with you? Probably too many times on the job for someone who deals with heavy machinery. In his mind she has your hair and his eyes—though he knows she’d probably gets his curls since both boys have them to a degree.

Tiffany bounces in your arms, enraptured in the music. If Eddie plays Old MacDonald, she’ll be mind-blown.

The soft timbre of Eddie’s voice, enthusiastic enough to capture Tiffany’s attention without riling her up, has your heart beating double time. Though you’ve known from the beginning that Eddie plays guitar, this is the first time you actually get to witness it. It’s as sexy as you’ve always imagined—even if he’s only playing nursery rhymes.

“There we go,” Eddie murmurs as whatever had been bothering the little girl seemingly dissipates. He grins at Max and Lucas. “That should buy you about five minutes before the next meltdown.”

Sure enough, the crying starts up again, signaling the party’s end. Hugs are exchanged as everyone clears out; final “happy birthday’s” sent Eddie’s way.

There’s a small tug on your arm just as you’re about to grab your purse. “Can you tuck us into bed?” Ryan asks, eyes wide. Luke’s at his side, nodding in agreement.

“Of course.” Always the babysitter, you think, but you truly enjoy being a part of their lives. The fact that they also enjoy it makes it even better.

The youngest Munson beams at you. “Maybe you can sleep over!”

“Uh, not this time. Sorry, kiddo.”

After teeth have been brushed and bedtime stories have been read, you retreat back to the kitchen. Eddie is clipping open bags of potato chips, and you start to gather any used paper platesto toss in the trash.

“You don’t have to,” Eddie says, gesturing towards the stack of disposable cups in your hand.

You cock your brow and smirk. “Do you really wanna clean all of this by yourself?”

“Fuck no.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He smiles back at you, shaking his head when he notices icing smeared on the back of a kitchen chair. “Should’ve put the boys on clean-up duty” he grunts.

“Then everything would just get shoved under the couch and they’d call it a day,” you point out, and he readily agrees.

Once the floor has been swept and the leftover food has been placed in the refrigerator, you have no valid excuse to stay any longer.

“I should get going,” you say, plucking your keys from your bag and twirling the chain around your forefinger. “I hope you had a good birthday.”

Eddie nods as he walks with you to the front door. He holds it open for you, then follows you out to your car. “Yeah, it was great. Especially your gift. It, um, meant a lot.” A slight rosiness tinges his cheeks, and he pulls you in for a hug.

You return it easily, your arms wrapping around his torso. Both of you hold on a beat longer than necessary, but you can’t seem to pull away.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear. He leans in; for a moment, it seems like he’s going to kiss the top of your head, but he takes a step back. Eddie’s done it so many times in his mind before that he almost forgot he doesn’t get to do it in real life. “Get home safe, yeah?”

“I will.” You duck into your car, giving him a small wave before you pull out of the driveway. As you drive, you watch Eddie trudge back into the house from your rearview mirror.

Once he’s inside, he closes the door and breathes out a sigh. He adjusts himself over his pants, painfully aware that he’s half-hard from a simple hug. Looking towards the bedroom he shares with Brittany, he pivots away and beelines towards the Tupperware of cookies you’d made.

Taking a big bite, he chews thoughtfully, delaying the inevitable. If only he could curl up next to you instead of her. He chuckles at the insanity of the idea and takes another bite of cookie.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS

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halloweennymph · 4 days ago

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love story

unicorn x f! reader

Summary: maybe getting married to the lonely unicorn isn’t as bad as you think…

Warnings: arranged marriage, blood/scars, blowjob.

A/N: this is just a little fic that’s been hidden in my drafts for a while, hope you like it, if this gets a lot of notes then i’ll write more!! <3

This happens every year. When spring comes, the lonely unicorn who roams the dangerous woods and protects your village from the werewolves, always asks for something in return. It used to be fresh fruits, furs for the winter or gold.

But this year he wants something different. A beautiful virgin to keep him company.

Of course, you are the one who gets chosen. Your family prepares you, dressing you with a flimsy dress that barely covers your fragile figure, and adding some gold necklaces and a flower crown on your head. Then, the whole village takes you to the woods and leave you there, alone, praying that the heartless beast takes it easy on you.

A few minutes go by, and then you see him. The unicorn stands there, just a couple of feet away, and fear rushes through your veins. He’s big, bigger that the horses that you used to see on the village, his horn looks extremely lethal and horrible scars ruin his shiny white fur.

When he comes near to you, you don’t say a thing, just drop to you knees before him, expecting to be treated like nothing but a cheap whore.

But, to your surprise, he’s not violent or ruthless like all those stories that you’ve heard since you were a little girl. Instead, he’s kind, and talks to you in a sweet tone, letting you know that you’re now safe with him, as his wife.

Still, you are pretty nervous about it. Your hands shake and you heart beats fast, but you dare to touch him, caressing his soft nose.

After that, he lets you ride him, and then starts galloping with you on his back, taking you to your new home in the deepest part of the woods. It’s a cozy hut built with rocks and wood, spacious for the both of you, and incredibly warm inside thanks to the hay and furs that he keeps there.

And such a drastic change in your life is nothing easy, actually it’s a little bit awkward for both of you at the start. But soon you get used to each other, gaining trust and catching some… feelings.

You start learning his habits, gathering his favorite berries and tending his wounds every time he comes home after a bloody fight against the werewolves. The first time in his life where he feels how it is to be cared for. And in return, he protects you -in a possessive way- and gives you everything you may want and need, even making a deal with the fairies so they create the most beautiful dresses and tiaras just for you.

It’s not a bad life after all. What else could you ask for if he already spoils you and treats you better than any human man?

One day, he takes you to the nearest river for a much needed bath, and guards you from the shore. He stays under a tree, and you carefully get into the crystal water, enjoying the cool of it as you rinse your hair and body.

You didn’t think much of it, completely forgetting about the effects that you may cause on your now husband. So, when you look back to see if he’s still there, you immediately notice something different, something that makes you feel a tingle between your legs.

He is still standing under the tree, with his cock out and fully hard, making it bounce against his belly to create just a slight friction, clearly enjoying the sight of your naked body.

And you can’t leave him there to deal with something that you caused.

Getting out of the river, you approach him, caressing the soft fur of his neck as if you were asking for permission. Then, you crawl under him, using a finger to trace the prominent vein on his pink velvety cock.

“You don’t need to do it” he says in a low tone, not really wanting to taint your purity so soon. “I can take care of it myself”.

“But i want to” you answer eagerly. “Please let me make you feel good”.

Without exchanging any other word, you take his enormous length with both of your hands, pumping it slowly, just trying to figure it out and do your best to pleasure him.

And he twitches at the feeling of your delicate hands around him, dripping precum out of his slit, but you know that he needs more stimulation if you want him to finish. So, even though you can’t fit him into your mouth, you kiss and lick the flared tip of his cock, tasting the sweet droplets of arousal.

It’s a filthy act, so much that if the fairies saw just a glimpse of it they would cover their eyes out of pure shame, but none of you care, specially not him.

He’s getting close, you can feel it it the way he throbs and his muscles tense. So you keep going, all sloppy and messy, until he gets to his powerful orgasm, spurting ropes of hot cum all over your mouth and chest.

It’s thick and sticky, with a beautiful pearl color that almost looks glittery, and for a second you think how pretty it would look on your skin if you rubbed it like moisturizing cream.

But, for now, you let go of his softening cock and get out under him, making your way to the river again, this time inviting him to join you in the water instead of just watching from afar…

#monster smut #monster x reader #monster fic #unicorn smut #unicorn x reader #monster fucker #monster romance #monster lover

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of-a-chaotic-mind · 1 year ago

Text

Sleep Aid

Summary: Reader can't sleep but Sam is her sleep aid.

TW/CW: Sam Golbach x Reader fluff. Purely fluff.

Requested?: No

A/N: I was just in a fluffy mood lol.

(Y/N)'s POV

Huffing in annoyance, I sit up in bed and stretch my back and legs. I’ve been trying to go to sleep for hours now with no such luck. Slumping out of bed I grab my fluffy blanket and throw it around my shoulders. Grumpily, I shuffle my way to Sam’s office.

When I poke my head in, Sam is sitting at his desk editing a video and Colby is plopped onto the couch with a laptop in his lap but he’s scrolling on his phone. I make my way over to Sam and stand beside him staring at his screen. He looks away from what he’s doing and up at me, “Yes ma’am?” I say nothing and simply open my blanket, making grabby hands. He scoots out from his desk and turns toward me to allow me into his lap. I swing a leg over and straddle his waist, pulling the blanket tight to myself and curling my arms up between us.

“What’s wrong?” He inquires, rubbing my back gently with one hand, going back to the video with the other.

“I can’t sleep,” I grumble into his chest, “been trying for hours.”

He gently begins rocking back and forth, “I’m sorry, baby.”

Before long, I find myself drifting off to sleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

Third Person POV

Colby groans as he gets off the couch and pads toward his two best friends. He chuckles as he lays eyes on (Y/N). Her hair is covering her eyes but he can still see that, “She is down for the count.”

Sam tilts his head, “That didn’t take long. I’ll take her to bed as soon as I come to a stopping point.”

Colby ruffles Sam’s hair, “Alright man, I’m gonna head to bed myself.” Colby exits the room yawning and rubbing his eyes.

Some time later, Sam glances at the clock, “Damn…” He had gotten lost in editing and lost track of time, it’s already 2am. He can’t stop the yawn that surges forth and tries to blink the sandy feeling from his eyes. The blue light glasses on his face might block the supposed sleep delaying light but the eye strain still persists due to his lack of blinking.

After saving and closing out his editing software, Sam gently wraps his hands under (Y/N)’s thighs and shoves his desk chair out to stand. He carefully makes his way to their bedroom doing his best to not wake his sleeping girlfriend. Once there, he tries to lay her down without stirring her but fails. She barely opens her eyes, brows knitted, “Don’t leave…”

Sam laughs softly, “I’m just gonna change and then I’ll be right there to snuggle up.” The sleepy young lady lets out a big yawn and snuggles further into her blanket. Soon, as promised, Sam is crawling into bed behind her and wrapping his arms around her to pull her in close. Together, the two drift into dreamland with small smiles on their faces.

Masterlist

More Sam Golbach Imagines

#sam golbach #sam golbach imagines #sam golbach imagine #sam golbach fluff #sam golbach oneshot #sam golbach oneshots #sam golbach drabble #sam golbach drabbles #sam and colby imagine #sam and colby imagines

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dadvans · 8 months ago

Note

Pls tell us more about pregnant Buck and baby daddy Tommy 🙏🏼

Oh, GLADLY. I spent my entire commute home thinking about this after I got this ask.

Okay, here’s everything you must know about Buckley-Kinard Baby Begins:

Buck is shitscared fucking terrified to tell Tommy when he finds out he’s pregnant, because while he knows that there are men out there who can get pregnant, Buck didn’t think or know he was one of those men. And they’ve been dating for six months, and at the four month mark they had their first ever fight, because Buck decided to say “I Love You” for the first time in the same conversation where he was asking Tommy if they could stop using condoms. They haven’t even talked about kids. Tommy, Buck reflects hysterically, is gonna think Buck is babytrapping him.

He lets himself into Tommy’s place after the doctor’s appointment. Tommy is in bed, napping off a shift, and he’s big and warm like the best desert rock that Buck’s lizard brain wants to curl up on. He crawls into bed with Tommy in a way that feels so final, because when Tommy wakes up for good and Buck lays out the news that there is a baby—and more importantly, that the second Buck found out that there was a baby he knew he wanted to keep it—he’s probably gonna ask Buck for his spare key back, block his number, and ready himself for eighteen years of child support payments.

Tommy shifts, mostly still asleep, eyes impossibly closed under the sun seeping between his bedroom window slats. He’s known Buck’s been feeling like shit the past few weeks, and would have offered to take Buck to his appointment if it weren’t for aforementioned shift. “Howwuz doctor’s?”

“Fine,” Buck says. “Tell you more when you get up.”

Which is Tommy’s cue to pass the fuck back out, which he does.

And Buck watches him sleep, and the most horrible part is that he has this fledgling hope that he’ll tell Tommy about the baby and Tommy won’t think he’s a crazy babytrapping monster and won’t kick him out and will say, you know what, yeah, let’s do this.

Buck knows what it’s like to be crushed and this hope is crushing him. He can’t fall asleep under its weight. Maybe another hour passes before Tommy wakes up, but it feels like a lifetime buried under this tiny hope.

So, he’s a fucking mess when Tommy does wake up, when Tommy says, “So, did they figure out what’s going on?” and all Buck can say is, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I’m sorry.” He’s pregnant, he didn’t know, he didn’t think, he would’ve been smarter, he wouldn’t have asked, he’s so sorry, and he wants to have this kid, he doesn’t expect anything from Tommy, he’s sorry.

Miracle of miracles Tommy just holds him through it.

The thing is, Tommy knows he’s not a natural with kids like Buck is. It’s not that he particularly wants or doesn’t want them, but until recently he’d kind of resigned to it not being an option, never willing to tie himself to someone else like that when he was so deep in the closet, and now in his mid-forties with no real biological clock ticking it hasn't been a priority. No, he and Buck haven’t talked about kids, but he knows Buck doesn’t have a malicious or insidious bone in his body, and being with Buck has made him realize there’s this well of love inside him that goes far deeper than he’s ever known it to.

And maybe it won’t work out, Tommy is the first to admit. Maybe it is too soon for them to think this is something their relationship can survive so early in, but it’s not something he’s ready to say no to either. So maybe they carry the burden of hope together, for this life they’re making together, and they give it their best shot.

(The sex they have after this conversation is so off-the-wall bonkers crazy intense that if Buck weren’t already pregnant, well.)

Later, when Buck’s had time to process that Tommy’s not going to leave him over this, that they’re going to try and make this work, that Tommy wants to make this work as bad as he does, does Buck address the second problem that’s bothering him: Buck wants to keep working as long as he can. He can’t be side-lined again. He tells Tommy much more about the lawsuit than Tommy previously knew, the parts that Buck is embarrassed about still years later. How he can’t go back to that, or won’t, how even though they’ve finally ousted Gerrard and Bobby’s back at the helm of the 118, he’s afraid that Bobby won’t trust him and that no matter how much has changed, he’s still replaceable to the people he considers family (not healthy, Tommy doesn’t say, but he gets it).

So, Tommy’s like: let’s take a week. Let’s look into this. He’s known pregnant people in the field before, there are proper channels to consider and protections to be made before Buck has his second pregnancy-related breakdown. They support each other through the next step, and it feels auspicious and good for this whole thing working out.

Telling Bobby for real still doesn’t come as well as Buck would like it to. He babbles. He starts out by mentioning he’s done his research, and there are lawsuits (he’d like to avoid) and more recent case studies on all these accommodations that say barring complications he’d be suited to some duty through his second trimester, and—

“Wait, you’re pregnant?” Bobby asks.

Buck stammers out, “Uh yeah. It’s not—we didn’t know I was even a carrier, so it’s a surprise. That said, it’s still, you know, we know it’s early—it’s really, really early, but Tommy and I talked about it. And we want it, you know, even if he and I don’t work out at the end of the day. It’s not unwanted.”

(And there’s something to be said there about both Buck and Tommy, two men who grew up feeling unwanted suddenly bringing a new life into the world, and knowing above all else that no matter how things work out between them, they’re going to make this kid know how wanted it is.)

“Congratulations, Buck, that’s amazing,” Bobby says. Smiling in a way that Buck knows he means it, in a way that makes Buck think, is he proud of me? I think he’s proud of me. In a way that he knows that despite all his fears and their past history, Bobby trusts him on this one, will work with him, will provide the support he needs now that he knows how to ask for it.

Buck gets to go to Tommy's (home) after his shift, and when Tommy asks, Buck says, "Bobby's having me refitted for PPE in a few weeks, we're all good to go" (all three of us)

#bucktommy #headcanons #mpreg #dadvans replies #911 abc

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 2 years ago

Text

1 Step Forward, 3 Steps Back || D. Targaryen x oc (Dear Motherhood Series)

GIF by me :) pls give cred if used DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: After Aegon experienced a near death experience under the lack of supervision of Daemon, a heated convo between Leyla and him soon follows.

Dear Motherhood Series Masterlist

“Stop that Baelon,” Daemon warned the young boy but still, he continues to bang his toy against the wall, creating a loud noise. Daemon was in Leyla’s solar, all three kids there with him and 2 handmaidens with the children.

The banging noise still continued as Daemon became more agitated. “I said stop it Baelon!” He yelled, slamming his hand on the table making all the kids flinch and stare at their father with wide eyes. The handmaidens too were surprised at Daemon’s loudness, especially because he rarely ever yelled at the children.

“Listen to what I tell you the first time,” He snaps as Baelon looks down, Alyssa sitting beside him rubs his shoulder in comfort. Daemon sighs, rubbing his forehead. He didn’t mean to yell at his son. His head was swarming with thoughts. Thoughts about how it was his fault that Aegon was so close to being seriously injured, or worst dead.

Leyla wasn’t feeling well in the morning so Daemon too responsibility of looking after the children during breakfast. It wasn’t hard to do and yet he still managed to fuck it up by not paying attention to Aegon who crawled his way to the descending stairs. Thank the gods Alicent was walking past and saw the young boy one step away from falling.

A knock comes from the double doors, “Come in,” Daemon calls out. It was one of Leyla’s handmaidens. “Lady Leyla wishes to see you, my Prince,” She bows before leaving. Daemon stared at the empty space where the handmaiden once stood.

He lets out a breath before standing up and walking over to where Alyssa, Baelon and Aegon sat playing with their toys. “Behave please,” He says before kissing each of their foreheads and ruffling Baelon’s hair.

Daemon knew that Leyla was beyond mad. He didn’t blame her, after all, it was his fault for not paying attention and letting Aegon come to a near death experience. Walking the familiar route to the nursery, he walked into the room without knocking.

He shut the door behind him before looking at Leyla. Their newborn, Alys, in her arms, crying. He watched as she rocked her to soothe her down. Her back facing Daemon.

“What were you thinking?” She spat, her face red. Daemon couldn’t find it in himself to say anything, so instead, he only kept his gaze to the floor. Angered at the lack of response, Leyla brings her hand up and slaps Daemon’s face, her hand tingling.

Daemon rolls his tongue against his cheek before meeting eyes with his wife. “It was a simple mistake-“ “A simple mistake?” She scoffed, “The handmaidens should have been keeping an eye on him as-“ “Do not blame the handmaidens for your mistake Daemon. I trusted you with looking after the children! How can I do that know when Aegon nearly fell down the stairs and could have died. All because of what? Rhaenyra was it?” She fumed, Leyla’s eyesight were blurred by the tears that formed in her eyes.

It pained her that her son was near close to death, thank god Alicent quickly took Aegon before he took another step. It pained her even more that Daemon was there and did not pay attention to their child.

She was told by her handmaidens that Rhaenyra had arrived, he carelessly went to greet her whilst leaving Aegon one step away from the steps that descended. “Thank the Gods that my sister was walking past,” She muttered, shaking her head.

“I would never forgive myself if something happened to Aegon, or to any of our children for that matter” Daemon quietly spoke as Leyla looked at him. “Neither would I, Husband,” She said through gritted teeth as Daemon looked at Leyla. “If you didn’t go and greet Rhaenyra, none of this would have happened in the first place!” She shouted, frustrated at her husband.

“Like I said, it was a mistake Leyla!” Daemon groaned, pulling at his hair as he starts to pace around the nursery. “A mistake that could have cost us our child!” She fired back, this time, hot tears had managed to cascade down her rosy cheeks. “I know, I know, hey- listen to me Leyla,” Daemon takes ahold of Leyla’s face.

“I am so fucking sorry. And I love you, so so much, and our beautiful children,” He softly says, his forehead against hers as he looks down at Alys before making eye contact with Leyla. “You can’t just push your children aside when Rhaenyra appears, Daemon.” He moves away from him and to the crib to lay Alys down.

“I know you haven’t seen her in some time, but do not forget your children whenever she’s there,” She bites her lips softly, looking down at Alys who’s looking right up at her. “I know that and I am so sorry,” He engulfs her in a hug from behind, his arms protectively wrapping themselves around her small figure.

Leyla lets out a sigh before caving in and leaning her head against Daemon’s chest.

taglist

@writtingforfun @bellstwd @sesamepancakes @bunbunbl0gs @ajthefujoshi @mxtokko @xcinnamonmalfoyx

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stevesgother · 2 months ago

Text

Vows - S.H

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

WC: 939

Warnings: swearing, toxic relationship dynamics, PTSD, anxiety/depression, alcohol consumption, drugs, hurt no comfort, angst

AN: this is NOT a happy fic. A little self indulgent / a way of processing my own past abusive relationships, and growing up in a household w/ DV. i wanted to explore a timeline where Steve doesn’t get a grip on the trauma he endured, and how he lets it consume him and his marriage.

The alarm clock on your bedside table reads 4:02 AM in flashes of blinking red by the time you feel the dip in the mattress caused by your husband crawling into the bed beside you. What used to be a warm, enveloping presence has since been replaced with a raw, calloused and whisky smelling one. He doesn’t wrap a muscular arm around your waist, he doesn’t place a tender kiss on your shoulder and whisper softly to you ‘Goodnight, love’ – he simply exhales a gravely sigh and drifts into a fitful sleep.

The memories – the trauma – that he thought might soften with the passage of time had grown ugly, sharp edges like jagged knives; shattered shards of glass. Nights and most days are spent drinking, you can’t even remember what his kiss used to taste like without the harsh sting of alcohol burning the back of his tongue. Perhaps they tasted like a drive-in movie; or lying shoulder to shoulder in tall grass – right on the cusp of a sweltering Hawkins summer. On the nights you miss him the most, your chin tucked into your knees while you hide behind a pounding door, you try to summon it all back. You miss him more than you remember him.

When it’s not Jim Beam, it’s Valium. Xanax. Klonopin. Those ugly, piss-colored pill bottles can be found in every crevice of your home. You loathe even the sight of them, recalling how Steve never actually wanted to take them in the first place. Now, you claw desperately at the proverbial rabbit hole you’re in. Dirt under your fingernails, no rocks or vines for purchase, while your husband rots in front of your very eyes. For years, you’ve waited for him to be himself again. Today, when you finally peel yourself out of your shared bed, you know he never will be.

As you’re sorting out the overdue electric and gas bills on your dirty kitchen table, you hear him finally start to stir. You work 50 hours a week, sometimes more. Steve collects a monthly disability check that promptly gets spent on booze. You’re shocked an eviction notice hasn’t been nailed to your front door yet.

“There’s coffee,” you say with a forced lightness and a tight lipped smile. It’s a coin toss every morning how we will respond to you, indicating how the rest of the day will go. Today, he grumbles and trudges his way over to the ancient coffee machine. Any optimism for a peaceful day is saturated with dread. More and more lately, you can’t shake that feeling.

“Why’re you opening my mail?” he asks accusingly as he sits in the chair across from you.

“Because, Steve. We’re 2 months late on the damn gas bill, they’re going to shut us off.” you sigh, having no energy for the incoming argument you know in your gut is about to ensue. “Do you want to have heat?”

“Do not start already,” he glares pointedly at you as he snatches the mail from your shaky hands. “How many times do I have to tell you I've got it?”

“Because you’re the one that works, right?” you mumble as you stand to leave the table, and you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth. A heavy palm lands on the table behind you, making you jump. Stale coffee sloshes over Steve’s mug, the one that reads in a dainty cursive font ‘Mr.’. The matching mug to your ‘Mrs.’. A wedding gift, you can’t remember anymore from who.

“Goddamnit, why do you always gotta be so fucking smart?” he points a calloused finger at you. He’s standing now, almost toe to toe. The way he towers over you used to be intimidating, now you sometimes wish he'd just hit you and get it over with.

“You know what? I won’t touch your fucking mail anymore, Steve. I’ll let the heat get shut off. I’ll let you get evicted from this fucking shithole. It won’t matter, because I won’t be here to fuckin’ see it.” you spit and he cages you against the wall with a strong arm when you attempt to storm away.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Get out of my way!” you shout and shove at his chest. When he finally moves, you all but run to your bedroom and pull out the suitcase you used on your honeymoon to pack your clothes. You hear an indistinct shout, and the telltale sound of ceramic shattering against drywall.

‘Do you, take Steven David Harrington, to be your lawfully wedded husband,’

Your shoving of clothes becomes faster as your adrenaline starts to rise.

“Baby c’mon, where are you going?” He’s standing in the doorway, sounding exasperated. Of all the times you’ve threatened to leave, never have you actually followed through.

“I’m leaving, Steve,”

‘To have and to hold, from this day forward,’

“You’re not leavin’. C’mon, can’t we talk about this? Please–” he takes several strides forward in an attempt to grasp you.

“Don’t fucking touch me!’ you shout as you feel his hands breach your shoulders and you shake him off just as quickly.

“So all this just means nothing to you then, huh? You’re throwing it all away for what? Over some damn bills?!” He yanks the suitcase away from you on the plush on your comforter.

‘For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer,’

“No, Steve,”

‘In sickness, and in health,’

“I’m leaving because you’re fucking killing yourself,” you shout with a sob, “You’re killing me.”

‘Until death do you part’

“You don’t mean that,”

‘I do.’

“I do.”

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sciencebecameouraddiction · 11 months ago

Note

So uh...Adam nsfw story? Idc what kind. Any. I just wanna see an Adam smut story please

that can totally happen! i’m hoping i did this request justice!

nsfw under the read more. minors dni pls.

rating: R

genre: smutty

characters: Adam x Reader

warnings: overstimulation and restraints.

Adam and you tumble into your room, never leaving the reach of each other. There seemed to be something unspoken and sinful at the thought of not having some physical contact that you both understood. Your hand drew down his chest as your mouth moved to his neck and he whined. He fucking whined. You closed your eyes trying to control yourself, him making it almost impossible to. He helps get his pants off, kneeling down and shedding yours as quickly as possible. He’s kisses up your legs stopping at the wetness leaking out from your underwear.

“You’re so wet already for me, aren’t ya babe?” he asks, gently drawing a finger over you stopping right above your clit, just lightly resting there. You take his mask off and grab his hair.

“Please. Please Adam.” You try and rock yourself into his finger, looking for any type of friction but he pulls away and you cry out, looking down accusingly. Your eyes narrow at him and he licks his finger that was on you.

“Divine.” He murmurs and you pull him up to you and push him on the bed. His eyes widen and he protests when you mark up his neck. The protests giving way to whimpers and moans. You slide down and take his cock in your hands. Twisting your hands up, and pinching the tip. He moans loudly and bucks his hips toward you, looking desperate.

“You want more?” You ask, wanting pay back on his little teasing stunt he pulled just a moment ago.

“Please. Please. Fuck. Just do something, bitch.” Adam pleaded, getting annoyed.

“Do anything? Okay.” You took your mouth and just sucked on the tip of his cock, tonguing the slit in a back and forth motion. Not letting up when Adam was begging and holding his hips down so he couldn’t move. You went from barely pleasuring him, to giving him too much as he was always so sensitive.

“I-I-Oh-I’m gonna…” He trailed off his body stiffening and you stopped. He looks around dazed and sees you pulled off his cock, just looking at him.

“Such a pretty color, like a deep tomato isn’t it?” you say, admiring the color.

“Well yeah, it’s gonna be awesome. This was the first dick. Gotta go with the best first.” Adam said, regaining his cocky attitude. You hum.

“I’m tired of your attitude Adam. I will keep this up until you’re nice.” You say. He laughs.

“You can’t keep this up bitch.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m the one in charge.”

“No you’re the one who’s tied up.” You say and snap your fingers. His eyes widen as he sees his legs and arms tied to each post on your bed.

“What? How?” He asks.

“Magic. You remember the safe word?” You ask Adam, waiting. He nods. “What color are you right now?”

“G-Green.” He murmurs.

“Good boy.” He whines and you go back to his member. You suck on the tip again, and tongue his slit back and forth, this time quicker and soon he is screaming for release. Begging as he’s thrashing against the restraints.

“You’ve only lasted twice? My goodness you are needy.” You say, and place your hand on him. You start to quickly jerk him off. His broken mutters to ‘slow down’ are lost on you.

“I don’t think I will. Cum for me now.” You say and he cries out as he finally cums. His breathing relaxing as you release his arms and legs from their restraints and crawl up to him.

“Damn, that was really fucking good.” He says a bit dazed.

“A compliment? My goodness, I’m flattered.” You joke, your hand resting on his neck as you look at him.

“You should be.” He says finally catching his breath and flipping you over quickly. “I expect to earn the same fucking praise when I’m done with you babe.” Your eyes widen and you realize that you’re both in for a long night.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin adam #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam smut #adam smut #hazbin adam smut

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dustofthedailylife · 2 years ago

Note

Hihi! I just read ur befriended a slime post and o would love to see more characters react to you befriending a slime! I love ur writing so much💛💛 I don’t have specific characters in mind so any you want to do is fine🥰

Hey! Thank you so much for the compliments, I'm glad to hear my silly little stories brought you joy! I too absolutely adored the concept so I added some more I could come up with something for. I hope you like them <3 P.S.: I also love how your username is very fitting for this specific fic request. I love it! 😭

"That Day I Befriended A Slime" (II) ft. Ayato, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Albedo x Reader [Fluff, Crack]

→ Part I (Xiao, Zhongli, Tighnari, Alhaitham, Childe, Diluc) → Masterlist || → Taglist

→ Ayato didn’t anticipate returning home from his meeting to find you sitting in the small pond in front of the Estate. You are drenched from head to toe and are just about to be tackled by the hydro slime in front of you.

"Oh, Archons no!", Ayato yells, dropping everything he is holding to rush towards your position and practically dives into the water to shield you from the attack of the slime. He pulls out his sword and tells you to get behind him. Slightly nervous he looks around because he knows he will have trouble defeating it alone. A hydro vision is useless against hydro slimes. He hates feeling so helpless but he might have to rely on someone else here. "Thoma! Ayaka! Get here quick!" "Ayato...", you giggle, placing a hand on his shoulder and brushing a strand of drenched pastel blue hair behind his ear. "It won't harm anyone. I found it in Chinju Forest and it followed me back here." "...w-what?"

He watches in disbelief as the slime slowly crawls into your arms and nuzzles into your chest before it closes its eyes and starts emitting gurgly purring noises.

→ Itto is faced with your beaming smile before you pull him by his hand, prompting him to follow you. All you had told him was that you need to show him something and he is practically bursting with excitement about what it was.

"What, what, what?! Come on, tell me. What do you want to show me?!", Itto beams. "Patience! We're almost there!" You lead him to a small enclosed garden behind one of the shops in Hanamizaka, taking a little glass jar out of your bag that contains some rocks. You shake the glass a couple of times and Itto looks around, seemingly waiting for a reaction. His eyes widen in surprise as soon as a small geo slime crawls out under the hedge and in your direction. "Do you want to give him a treat?", you ask teasingly, but you don't even have to wait for an answer as he is rushing straight towards the little slime with open arms already. "Oh by the gods, look at the little dude!! We gotta give him a name. Itto the Second? Itto Junior? Whadda'ya think?"

Needless to say, the slime is now a new addition to your little family. And another upside is that Ushi seems to get along with it as well.

→ Kaeya meets up with you at your apartment after being done with work for the day. He was thinking about your homemade dinner all day already and is ready to melt into your arms as soon as he is able to. What he does not expect today is walking into your apartment bathroom and finding a sleeping cryo slime in your bathtub.

"Uuuuh... sweetheart?", he chuckles with unease in his voice. "Yes, Love?" "You are aware that there is a cryo slime peacefully taking a nap in your bathtub, yes?", he inquired and scrunched his eyebrows in concern. "Yes." "Yes?!", he exclaims in disbelief. "Yes.", you reassure. "I bonded with it when it was hot outside and we both took shelter under the same tree. Poor thing looked scared to death. It probably thought it would melt. So... I put it in my bag and put it in the bathroom because it's cold there.", you satisfy his curiosity. "Plus... it kind of reminds me of you." You have never seen him that quiet before. What a rare moment to see the Cavalry Captain lost for words.

And as much as finding the little slime flabbergasted him. He soon warms up to it and you sometimes even find him napping on your sofa with the slime pressed flush to his chest.

→ Kaveh comes home only to find a dendro slime on his desk, happily chewing away on his blueprints. Taking a few seconds before processing what is happening he darts forward to push the slime off his desk and pull the saliva-drenched remnants of his blueprints out of the slime's mouth.

"No, no... noooo.", he groans, pulling on his hair. He has no idea how it got in here but there is only one possible explanation for it. Angrily he marches into the living room with his fists balled on his sides. "Alhaitham! Why did you put a slime into my room?!", he fumes. "Because your partner dropped it off here earlier even though I told them you're not here yet. They said something about a... pet? It wanted to chew on my books so I threw it into your room.", he explains without looking up from the book in his hands once. "Oh grand. And you didn't consider that it would continue to chew on my things there?" "I fail to see how that is my problem."

However, it sort of starts to become his problem as soon as Alhaitham finds out you and Kaveh named the slime "Hai-Hai" in reference to the sprouts on its head that apparently share similarities to his own hair.

→ Albedo finds you and Klee kneeling in the grass just outside of the Mondstadt city gates. A beaming smile on the little girl's face and reaching down towards something that he is unable to make out at first, due to your backs blocking his vision. As soon as he steps closer he identifies what you are kneeling next to. A little geo slime is nuzzling into your lap while Klee pats its head.

"Mr. Albedo!!", Klee cheers. "Look what we found. Klee made a slime friend!" "Ah, that is wonderful, Klee!", he smiles in her direction. "So that's the project you were working on the past weeks I assume?", he inquires directed at you. "Bingo. Turns out my slime-tamer elixir is a success. With this, we might be able to domesticate them. As you can see, this little guy over here turned from a little feral blob into a snuggly little pet.", you explain. He eyes the slime with curiosity. This is certainly a most amazing find. As expected of you. He never had any doubt you wouldn't succeed with anything you had set your mind on. "Fascinating. You've got to show me your notes on this-" "Mr. Albedo! Can we keep it? Please, please, please!", Klee interrupts and excitedly jumps up and down clutching onto the Alchemist's coat. "I don't see any reason why we shouldn't." "Yaaay!"

Watching you and Klee play with the slime and seeing your proud smile makes his heart swell in his chest. You are truly the most gifted person he has ever met.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always appreciated!

#astronetwrk #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #ayato x reader #kaveh x reader #itto x reader #albedo x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin fluff #genshin crack #🍁 dust mail #🍁 garden visitor: jellyslimesofficial #🍁 dust reqs

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skzdedgf · 6 months ago

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He's Inlove W My Body

skzdedgf ©

content : Smut, Fluff (at the end), PWP?, Harddom!Chan, Nonidol!Chan, Subbrat!Reader, Fem!Reader, Spanking, Nicknames (Slut, Doll, Love, etc) , Bondage, Degradation + praise, Oral (m. rec) , Cigarettes + Smoking, Swearing, Hair pulling, Choking, Creampie (wrap fore u tap it!), Corruption kink, Aftercare

warning ! : MDNI! 18+ under cut. (+ A.N)

A.N : This is based on "Gibson Girl" By Ethel Cain!

*puff you blow out smoke from your freshly lit cigarette on your porch. You had just finished moving to the Mid west, where it's peaceful and quiet. Rocking in your chair slowly back and forth admiring the lake near by.

"Love." Chan says softly, you quickly put your cigarette out knowing he hates the smell and to see you smoke.

"Yes..?" you say softly, he clicks his tongue visibly frustrated.

"I asked you nicely to stop smoking if we were going to move out here." you let a drawn out sigh spill knowing he hates when you get any attitude with him. You gulp a little noticing he's walking closer to you

"Y/n.. baby. My doll.. Don't start having a little attitude~" "doll" you loved that nickname especially when it came out of his mouth. You slowly turn to look at him, he was wearing a tight black shirt with mudwashed jeans and combat boots, you love the way he lets his pants rest on his hips so you can see his boxer's waistband perfectly.

"Y/n." Chan said sternly since you we're staring at this waistband a little to long. "Y-Yes.. Sorry sir.." Chan grinned slightly at the name yet you still hadn't met his eyes. With his index finger he slowly lifts your head, admiring your face and body, you had booty shorts with a silk grey tank top and ankle socks with black bows and ruffles. Chan adored you in your little shorts, he couldn't help but wanna.. Break you.

10 minutes later

A heavy sigh can be heard from Chan, you were too into your thoughts to notice he was trying to talk to you about helping him out with buying more things for the leaking sink, "Are you even listening??" Chan says frustrated. "Hm? m' sorry I-i'll listen just say it again.. you don't have to be moody.." You mumble that last bit, He scoffs sticking his tongue inside his cheek "Moody? I'm moody? Come here." He says while holding his hand out, "what for wh-"

You yelp a little as Chan picks you up over his shoulder, landing a harsh slap on your ass. "C-Ch-" *Slap another harsh slap on your ass "Keep the attitude up." Chan spits out, you whine "put me down~!" you yelp as he tosses you on the bed "You need to learn to listen doll..~" Chan whispers as he crawls on top of your body, with an almost predator look in his eyes, he looks so.. Fucking sexy.

You were snapped back to reality when your hair was tugged to sit you up on the bed, in front of you was Chan with his pants a little bit lower, just enough for you to see the outline of his tip, he was so hard.

He slowly tugs his pants down letting them rest at his mid-thigh. "Your gonna be a good slut and take it all." He brings your face closer to his cock, its so big perfect girth and length, you slowly tug on his waistband making him hiss as soon as the air hits his leaking tip. ,, he's so hard for me already.?!,, you thought almost excited that your able to get him like this. "Open up." Chan says while holding your hair in a tighter grip, you whine not opening your mouth

"I said.. Open. Up." He said sternly with a hiss at the end. Pulling your hair harder making you open your mouth quickly, he shoves his full length in your mouth not even letting you breathe in first causing you to start choking immediately, Chan thrusts into your mouth almost angry "Take my dick slut." He spits out at you. You have tears forming at the corner of your eyes, you swear your throat is gonna be bruised after how rough he's going. Chan pulls you off his cock with a pop making him groan

You cough trying to catch your breathe after that yet Chan lays you on your stomach before harshly taking off your shorts showing your white lace underware, He picked his lips at the sight ,,so fucking cute,, he thinks to himself, your still catching your breathe when you feel weight lift off the bed.. Chan? He goes to the closet taking something out.. A belt?

You squirm away knowing what's gonna happen he holds you back down tying your wrists behind your back and bringing your ass up, you were completely vulnerable to him. He caresses all of your body loving every second ,,god I'm in love with her body,, he thought. you we're still trying to squirm than you felt a harsh slap on your ass

"Stop squirming slut or its gonna be worse for you." you yelped loudly as you felt him slam into you, you felt dazed as it was without warning, he keeps pumping his full length in and out of you. "God you fucking slut, letting me fuck this pretty pussy like nothing, you probably like this huh?? Being fucked like a dumb doll" he says between strokes. You whine out, he roughly pulls your hair.

"Words dumb doll. Words." He shoves your face back into the pillows, "Y-Yes S-Sir ~!" you scream into the pillows gaining a smirk from Chan. "Dirty slut.." Chan says lowly as he continues thrusting into your tight cunt.

"d-daddy agh.. c-close" you feel your high building up as each forceful thrust feels electric. Chan spanks your ass leaning over and grabbing your ear, whispering in a raspy voice "cum for me little doll." He groans as you start clenching around him getting him closer to the edge. "Fuckk I'm gonna cum in your little pussy~ Your so good at making daddy feel so good huh~" You start babbling as your getting so close that his words become ecstasy bringing you higher, you can't help but let your self loose all over his cock and thighs leaving him sticky.

"Fuck baby I'm cumming~" Chan groans out and is hot sticky ropes shoot into you filling you all up, he keeps sloppily thrusting into you helping both of you slowly come down your highs.

"Fuck good job love~" he coos slightly gaining a smile giggle from you, he quickly grabs you a change of clothes and a damp cloth.

Once he's back he unties you, "hold on my pretty girl.." he coos as he slowly cleans you up being gentle because he knows how sensitive you are after sex especially when he's so rough with you. You let out a smile whine as he cleans you up "it's okay my baby just let me clean you, I'm almost done~" he says gently ,,I love the way he loves me, I love the way hes in love with my body, that's why he's fucking it up,, you thought. He lays soft kisses on your back making you notice he's done cleaning you, "Come baby, up" he says motioning you to sit up , which you do slowly, He helps you put on some new comfy underwear with comfy baggy shorts and one of his tee shirts.

"Are you okay my baby? Would you like some water or juice? Then we can cuddle and watch your favorite scary movies~" he says with a small smile as he cleans himself up and changes his clothes to some simple sleep wear. you nod slightly "juice please~" he gives you a light peck "I'm on it love~" he says as he quickly goes to the kitchen

• 5 minutes later

You watch the TV laying your back onto the bedframe, he comes back with a cup full of your favorite juice, your plushie and some chocolate, he places the juice on the nightstand next to you and he hands you the plush and chocolate, "here for my sweet girl~" he quickly lays in bed with you cuddling your waist as you both watch your favorite movie. "We're still fixing the sink tomorrow" Chan adds in, you giggle, playing with his hair.

A.N :I actually really liked this for my first smut I think Chan was so cute, definitely the clingy type after sex. TT

Cmmts, reposts and likes are appreciated! Thank you sm <3 !

Please do not repost my works anywhere else, this is my only acc and the only place I will be posting fics, any where else please report!

#stray kids #bang chan #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz stay #skz smut #skz #skz fluff #skz ot8 #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #seungmin #jeongin #dom!bang chan #bangchan smut

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madhatterbri · 7 months ago

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Baby Duty | F.B. Demon King

Summary: The Demon form of Finn hasn't been a fan of the new baby. With Y/N fast asleep, he finally gets put on baby duty.

Finn Balor Masterlist

Taglist: @theworldofotps @plentyoffandoms @mrsarcherofinfamy

"Its crying," Finn's demon form pointed out in disgust. His nose scrunched as he peered at the baby in his human form's arms. Finn turned his head to the mirror over the baby's crib. His bright blue eyes rolled. The demon was an idiot sometimes.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. I can see Gabriel is crying," the human father corrected. Gabriel had been fed and changed. Now, he was just getting out some last-minute emotional outbursts before he would fall back asleep. Finn hushed him and cuddled him in his arms.

"I don't care what its name or why it's crying. Make it stop," the Demon growled at Finn. The Demon was still not taking kindly about the baby. Ever since Finn and Y/N brought him home from the hospital. Now, the baby was a few months old, and he was still not adjusted.

"You know, when you take over my body, you are going to have to help Y/N with him," Finn reminded.

The Demon laughed. "It was her choice to make a child with you. Not mine. I'll wake her before that ever happens,"

One Friday evening, the Demon form laid in the bed next to Y/N. His arms were crossed over his body. He was pouting. Finn told him explicitly that he had better take care of Gabriel if he cried. All was quiet until the shrill cries of the baby startled him.

"Now," he heard Finn say from within. The Demon muttered under his breath. He crawled towards the child's bedroom.

"I am going to scare him. He's not used to the Demon form," the Demon whined.

"Well, this is his father. He will have to get used to seeing the both of us," Finn argued.

Demon opened the door slowly. He pushed the door open. The baby's cries spilled out into the hallway. The Demon made a face yet knew he had to go in. Slowly, he crawled to the crib.

The Demon stood up when he was next to the crib. Gabriel opened his blue eyes. Soft whimpers escaped his tiny form. He stayed quiet momentarily when he looked at the Demon form of his father.

"What is it doing?" The Demon asked nervously. He didn't want to scare the baby. Not that he cared if he did. He just didn't want him to cry more.

"He recognizes our face. Does he smell? Y/N only fed him an hour ago. He might just want to be held. Pick him up," Finn insisted. The Demon growled and leaned down into the crib. Gabriel lifted his hands to go up.

"Is it trying to attack me?" He asked and picked up the baby. The Demon held the baby at arms length. Gabriel whined and reached out for the Demon. His face contorted as if he was going to cry again.

"Hold Gabriel next to you," Finn ordered. Slowly, the Demon moved baby Gabriel closer to him. He held him in his arms.

"This isn't so bad, I guess. Hey, stop that!" The Demon demanded. Gabriel squealed in delight and played with his tendrils. The laugh was infectious, and soon, the Demon was laughing along, too.

The Demon grumbled and sat on the rocking chair. Baby Gabriel clapped his hands and kicked his tiny feet. He even placed a tendril in his mouth.

"I guess you aren't too bad, baby,"

#fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #demon finn balor #finn balor x y/n #finn balor x reader #finn balor fanfiction

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zukosdualdao · 7 months ago

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something i was thinking about regarding the parallels of aang and zuko accidentally burning toph and katara, respectively, is the similarity in their reactions in the immediate aftermath, but the way their reactions diverge afterward, re: apologies.

Aang tosses it into the air and spreads his arms out. For a second, he has a smile on his face, but it vanishes as he accidentally burns Katara's hands. Katara shrieks in pain. Aang: Katara! I'm so sorry! Sokka comes running to Katara's side. Sokka: [Concerned.] Katara, what's wrong? [Angrily.] What did you do?! Aang: It was an accident! I was, uh... Katara, I'm so-- Sokka furiously tackles Aang. Sokka: [Enraged.] I told you we shouldn't mess around with this! Look what you did! You burned my sister! [Katara runs away.]

Zuko: Who's there? Stay back! [Whips fire.] Toph: It's me! [Throws up an earth shield, but steps back into Zuko's fire blast.] Ow! You burned my feet! Zuko: I'm sorry, it was a mistake! [Comes toward her, but she begins to crawl away.] Toph: Get away from me! [As Toph crawls away, she grabs the earth under her and throws it backward at Zuko.] Zuko: Let me help you! [Dodges another rock.] I'm sorry! [Tries to grab her.] Toph: Get off me, get off me! [Brings up some earth which sends Zuko flying back.]

both of them try to immediately apologize as soon as they realize what they've done, and while that's understandable and they both do feel genuine remorse, the kinds of apologies being made in these contexts are inherently a little selfish. an apology should be for the other person, and neither katara or toph is in a place to process it, as both are in immediate pain and both are panicking. aang and zuko also both try to repeat the apology - aang only doesn't get all the way through his because sokka tackles him and interrupts - in the moment when it's become very clear that it's not going to be appropriate or helpful at the time.

where i think they diverge, though, is that while aang continues to feel remorse, he doesn't offer another apology now that tensions have lowered and she might be in a better place to receive it. instead, it becomes about his own guilt, and katara having to comfort him, telling him it doesn't matter because she was able to heal herself.

Katara enters the cottage to find Aang sulking. Aang: Jeong Jeong tried to tell me that I wasn't ready. I wouldn't listen. I'm never going to firebend again. Katara: You'll have to eventually. Aang: No, never again. Katara: It's okay, Aang. I'm healed.

he also learns the wrong lesson from it. and to be clear, i'm not criticizing that as a writing choice - i think it's very realistic. but instead of resolving to do better in the future and learn discipline, he declares his intent to avoid firebending instead of committing to the responsibility of controlling it. (which, as katara rightly points out, is just not going to work.)

whereas, despite his lapse in wallowing in his own guilt - why am i so bad at being good? - by the next day, zuko is able to apologize to toph in a setting where tensions are lower and she's better able to process it, as her feet might not be completely healed but are healing and she's in significantly less pain and a clearer mindset. he gives the explanation of it being an accident without excusing it, instead affirming that he knows he has a responsibility to be more careful and resolving to do better.

Zuko: [To Toph.] I'm sorry for what I did to you. [Bows to her.] It was an accident. Fire can be dangerous and wild, so as a firebender, I need to be more careful and control my bending, so I don't hurt people unintentionally.

i think the reason zuko is able to work past this and not keep wallowing in shame and guilt is because part of his journey has been learning (with help from iroh) that the guilt and shame he was made to feel for his 'wrongdoings' in ozai's eyes never actually helped anything, and he has finally started to internalize that. so he's able to say "i did a wrong thing and i'm sorry and i will do better" without either trying to completely justify himself or debasing himself, and that's powerful and important.

#i didn't know how to end this #but. just having Thoughts about it #the deserter #the western air temple #parallels #aang critical #maybe a little?#zuko #katara #toph

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f10werfae · 2 years ago

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Would Baby Bun ever comfort her husband when he's feeling a bit under the weather? Maybe with some fluff breastfeeding? 🥹 Just comfort, not necessarily smut

Milky business

Lumberjack!Henry x shy!wife!reader

summary: Baby bun comforts her man with a little milk (lactation kink) (lowkey subby henry for once??)

lumberjack!Henry Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“H-Hen? What’s wrong? Why do you look so u-upset?” Y/n whined crawling into bed beside her grumpy husband, his head immediately coming down to lay on top her chest, which he had admitted had grown major sizes since she had given birth to their twins, Iris and Beau. “Jus’ feelin’ a bit under the weather sugar butt, nothin for your pretty head to worry about” His fingers were already tweaking with her engorged nipples through her thin vest, watching as wet patches soon covered them, the fabric now sticking to her skin.

“B-but it is for me to worry bout! Y-you’re my husband n’ we’re supposed ta take care of each other” Y/n whined scratching the nape of his neck, little moans and whimpers leaving her lips every time Henry would let his teeth rake over her hardened wet nipples. “You’re so sweet baby bun, ya wanna comfort your man?” He cooed leaning up to kiss her lips sloppily, pulling her tongue out in the process, his smirk widening when she just nodded; already knowing his method of choice.

Within seconds Henry had once again rested his head onto her chest, pulling down her vest just enough to let both of her swollen tits pop out, the milk practically aching to come out since the twins weren’t able to finish her off. This was something they had both experimented with both and undeniably fell in love with as a couple. There was nothing better than finding a new way to be closer and intimate with each other, with Henry finding himself simply nursing on his housewife whenever he pleased or whenever she found her breasts too sore. Some may even say he was jealous of his twins. Seeing his wife adopt the new role of a mother made his heart glimmer with pride, she was HIS wife and the mother of HIS children, she was all his just like he planned from the start.

“They’re so tense baby” Henry whispered placing a soft kiss onto her swollen bud directly, before doing it again, only this time sucking softly to receive some of her sweet warm milk into his waiting mouth. Every so often his mouth was engulf more and more of her breast into his mouth until his mouth was satisfyingly stuffed full of his wife. “That feels so good” Y/n whispered kissing the crown of his head, letting her hands rub down his back gently.

It wasn’t often that Henry let himself be emotionally vulnerable in front of his wife, so the times that he would she would completely savour it. The way he would absolutely cling to her, needing her to be beside him constantly, because she grounded him.

“You taste so good momma” Henry rasped kissing the skin around her nipples, lifting his head, letting her take control of a tongue filled kiss; the taste of the milk filling her mouth as Henry whimpered for more. He whimpered for her, his lover, his wife. “Thank you so much for being my rock, my everythin’, n’ givin’ me our little miracles. Forever my precious girl” He whispered against her lips, both of their glossy eyes looking at each other with so much lust, love and passion.

“Y-you’re so mushy and emotional tonight” Y/n giggled nudging her nose against his, “Can’t you just let me love on my wife and the mother of my children in peace?”

“Need I to do the other one now don’t I? Can’t have the other one feelin’ left out” Leaving another small kiss onto the corner of her lips he leant down to her other breast and let himself get lost in the feeling of her soft skin against his. With the combination of his baby bun’s head and back scratches and her warm milk, it wasn’t surprising when Henry literally fell asleep with her tit in his mouth.

——-

PSA: I cant wait to finally write full fics again after my exams 😭😭 In the mean time hope you guys enjoy this short story🫶🫶🫶

taglist: @k3ira13 @shecamedowninabubble @ridingthehotmessexpress @heyitsme-2 @animez96 @namjoons-t1ddies @ameliascreampuffs @angelic-dreams13 @respectmyprivacys-blog @squishyturtle @awhore4moree @sorayasworld @loki-s-wife @pandaxnienke @thereisa8ella @kimhtoo17 @beck07990 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @madebylilly @kebabgirl67 @marvelgurl @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @aerangi @alina02 @alexxavicry @hp-hogwartsexpress @angelmather1 @acornacre @ggmimitf @thebaileybugle @p4st3lst4rs @kzhlvlysstuff @thoughtsofreid @theekyliepage @cookielovesbook-akie @elenavampire21 @hoya122 @esposadomd @helenaellie @meyocoko @severewobblerlightdragon @kemillyfreitas @adoreyouusugar

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x pregnant!reader #henry cavill x wife!reader #henry cavill x shy!reader #lumberjack!henry #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fluff

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impala-dreamer · 8 months ago

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Danger In The Mist

A Supernatural Story from The Kingdom of Moondoor

~ As the fair Princess Y/N races through the woods, running for her life from the evil monster, Margraw the Horrid, she fears that all is lost. Is there anyone who can save her? Will some brave knight come to her aide?!~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

2,400 Words

Warnings: Action, Fluff, Romance, Comedy.

A/N: Set in the world of Moondoor... A request from a patron and the "hey, you made need to bite on this" square for my @jacklesversebingo Bingo Card. Hope you all enjoy! I must say, I really enjoyed writing this and the voice I found is a lot of fun.

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

A light mist kissed her cheeks as she raced through the woods. Her slippered feet ached with every step as rocks rose up to meet the silken soles of her feet. Her arms were stinging, scrapped by the rough hands of wayward branches and brambles. Out of breath and filled with fear, she stumbled from tree to tree, clawing at the sturdy bark for a moment of support before taking off once more.

She ran until her lungs burned.

Thinking herself safe, Princess Y/N paused aside a large rock formation. Her wind-blown hair created a pillow against the mossy stone and she breathed deeply, slowly. Her heart was pounding and her ears rang, but she listened closely to the forest.

To her left, birds chirped, signaling to others a warning of the approaching storm. Wings flapped against the graying sky as they filled the canopy with urgent alarm. On her right, twigs snapped under the hooves of deer and delicate leaves crumbled in their mouths. All around, wind passed through the greenery and Y/N held her breath, searching blindly for the one sound she absolutely needed to hear. All was still. She was surrounded by quiet.

A few moments later, heavy footfalls broke through the mote of silence and entered her perception. She gasped as the thing approached, stalking at a quick pace that she knew she could no longer keep up with or out run.

It was over.

She would soon be captured, taken away and shoved back into the dank, cold tower at Dunshire Castle to await her terrible fate. She exhaled and a hot tear trekked down her flushed cheek, mixing with the cool drizzle as it settled upon her skin.

“Come out, Princess!” The monster yelled as he sniffed the air like a dog. “I know that you are near. I can smell your sweet scent!”

A howling roar erupted from its maw and Y/N shivered. In her mind’s eye she could see the terrible creature clearly - a giant, thick body covered in the harsh gray fur of a wolf, fangs like a venomous snake that curved beyond its jaw, digging into his chapped lip. His piercing eyes like glowing rubies, seething with dark magic. The stank of him struck her senses and Y/N tried not to wretch.

She wanted to run but her body was weak. She wanted to scream, but she could not allow her voice to betray her location. She needed but a little more time to feel the dying sun on her face, to inhale the fresh air, to feel the soft ground beneath her feet before she was snatched back to the hell of the towering prison. She would not be taken so soon!

Another roar made her jump. It was closer this time and Y/N’s skin crawled. She had to run. She had to try.

She took a breath and then a step, moving away from the safety of the overhanging rock.

The moment she was free, a giant hand wrapped around the nape of her neck, yanking her backwards with ghastly power.

She screamed and the winged flock above scrambled to fly away from the echoing noise.

“Please! Help me!”

Y/N steeled herself for a blow that never came. As she took one final look at the forest, saying goodbye to the deer and the yapping birds, a strapping figure appeared a few yards away. The man was tall and handsome, with cropped brown hair that stood up a bit at the crown. His lips were full and pink, and his eyes matched the surrounding forest. He wore tights and a simple shirt of russet orange with silver chainmail covering his broad shoulders and chest.

“Unhand her, you fiend!”

The man’s deep, booming voice shook the trees and wrapped around Y/N with all the comfort of a heavy woolen shawl. She was saved. She was safe. She’d soon be free.

The monster pushed Y/N aside and she fell into the grass, watching as the war for her freedom began.

“How dare you,” the thing spat. “Do you have any idea who I am!”

“No introduction is needed, Margraw the Horrid! Though, I would like you to say hello to my little friend.” The man smirked and drew his longsword from its sheath. The metal gleamed in the dimming light and the crest of the mighty House of Winchester shone brightly upon the hilt.

Margraw hissed. “Winchester!”

Dean smiled proudly and turned the sword in his hand. “The one and only.”

A cackle left the beast’s lips. “Indeed. E’er since I slaughtered your baby brother those many moons ago. He truly was a delicious feast.” Margraw licked his hairy chops and stared the knight down. “I wonder if you’ll taste the same or if I’ll have to boil you with mead to enhance the flavor.”

Dean’s upper lip curled into a sneer and he raised his sword high. “Sorry to break it to you, Margraw, but I am the tastiest snack you’ll never have!”

Y/N was taken by the handsomeness of the brave knight and the way he bit back with his words. It was as if he were cutting Margraw down before even swinging his blade. Her heart raced once again, but she knew from the building heat betwixt her thighs that it was no longer from fear.

“You’re cocky, Winchester,” Margraw hissed.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Dean replied with a wink towards the Princess. “Now, just hand over the girl and we can all be on our way.”

Margraw laughed viciously. “The Princess is mine. Her father signed her life over to me before she was even born. I am her destiny.”

Y/N cringed, shuddering on the cold ground.

Dean looked at her, brows creased in curiosity. “Is this true, m’lady?”

When their eyes met, Y/N swooned and the forest grew light around him as if the world were highlighting his chiseled frame.

“Sadly, yes, sir, but-”

A fresh tear fell and the knight nodded in understanding.

“Fear not, Princess,” he said boldly. “You shall not be dinner for this monster tonight.” He took a step forward, sword ready for a fight. “But perhaps you can be my desert.”

He winked once again and Y/N’s stomach flipped. Her right hand reached for her heaving breast and she watched in awe as Dean, brave knight of the House of Winchester, defended her honor against the dreaded beast, Margraw the Horrid.

The fight was fast and fierce. Dean dodged blows from Margraw’s massive paws and jabbed with his trusted blade. The beast moved slower but with much force, continually blocking Dean’s attacks and sending the knight toppling over his own feet.

Y/N viewed the malay with a hand clutched over her heart, praying to the forest gods that all would be well. When Dean cried out in pain, she nearly lost all hope. He fell to one knee and held his leg as blood leaked from his thigh. He’d been struck by Margraw’s poisoned claws and fire seeped into his veins.

“Dean!” Y/N cried, her voice saturated with grim pain. “No!”

Green eyes swept lovingly over her face and Dean found the strength to carry on. With one swift motion, he stood and swung his arm, deftly delivering a final, deadly blow to Margraw. The monster fell with a sickening howl and the forest was still once more.

Finally free, Y/N scrambled to her feet and swept the dirt from her skirts. She took a deep breath and walked toward the corpse, looking down at the empty eyes of her captor.

She spat in his ugly face. “You shall never again haunt my nightmares, you beast!”

Satisfied and at peace, Y/N closed her eyes for a brief moment and let the cool mist wash her past away.

Behind her, Dean collapsed. His longsword fell to the ground, coming to lay beside his bloodied body. He gasped as a rock dug into his broken rib and Y/N spun around, rushing to his side.

“Dean!”

Down to her knees she fell and Y/N looked him over, her eyes heavy with worry.

He looked up and managed a smile even as the monster’s poison worked its painful magic, pulsing through his bloodstream.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

Her cheeks flushed but there was no time to attend to her blossoming need. “You’re hurt,” she said, hands hovering over the wound in his meaty thigh.

“No big deal,” he joked, holding back a harsh cough. “I’ve had worse.”

Carefully, she examined his leg and saw the purple streaks expand across his freckled skin as the poison moved about.

She shook her head. “No. Margraw’s claws are tainted with the Poison of Aragrog- enough to kill an army of thousands. We must draw it out before it takes your heart.”

Dean tried to sit up, but he faltered and landed on his elbows, his long legs stretched out before him. “I don’t think it can,” he teased.

“And why not?”

“Because, my heart has already been taken,” he whispered, “by you.”

Y/N’s bosom swelled and her mouth dried, demanding a drink from his lips. “You are quite smooth, Sir Knight, and I do owe you my life. Will you not allow me to attempt now to save yours?”

Dean sighed and then twitched as pain spread up his side. “Do what you must.”

Quickly, Y/N grabbed hold of her innermost skirt and ripped a long strip of the airy fabric free. She looped the frayed white hem around his upper thigh and then reached for a fallen branch. She twisted the thin bit of wood into the fabric and prepared to tighten the tourniquet.

Dean watched with wide, nervous eyes as she worked.

“That’s not gonna hurt, is it?” he asked timidly.

Y/N smiled as kindly as she could. “It will,” she answered truthfully. “But I need to stop the poison from spreading any further whilst I prepare a healing salve. I believe I spied a patch of yarrow over yonder.”

Dean’s expression was worrisome. Hesitation creased with suffering. She took pity and snapped the tip of the twisting branch off, handing it to him.

“Here,” she told him, “you may need something to bite on.”

As her hand lifted the bark to his lips, Dean snatched her wrist and tugged, yanking the Princess down into his arms. He kissed her sweet lips and nestled a hand against the small of her back. She meant to cry out, to protest his rash decision, but the pressure of his mouth upon hers, the feel of his fingers splaying across her back, the taste of his tongue all conspired to wipe the worry from her mind. She melted into him and kissed him back, hoping beyond hope that he would be saved from the poison so that she might be granted a thousand more kisses just like this one.

While she prayed, Dean wrapped his arms tight around her and rolled with her, claiming the top space and pressing her soft body into the earth. He dipped his tongue into her mouth as he bunched up the mass of skirts covering her sex. He pressed his knee into her heat and she moaned loudly into his mouth.

“Thou art quite the kisser, Sir Winchester…”

Dean grinned and flexed his thigh, pushing against her pussy again. “Ya know, I’m kinda loving you calling me Sir, Y/N/N.”

She grabbed at the rough collar of his shirt. “That’s Princess, to you, peasant.” She tugged and he fell back to kissing her, captivated by the pull of her mouth and the heat of her writhing body.

Sneaking a hand between them, Y/N reached for his cock and rubbed her palm over it. He shivered and bucked his hips, helping her along.

“Fuck, I wanna fuck you right here,” he growled, lips dragging over the shell of her ear.

Y/N closed her eyes and spread her legs wider, lifting them to wrap around his trim waist. “You should…”

He let out a sexy huff that made her nipples tingle and her pussy leak. She licked at his mouth and lightly squeezed his sack.

“Now you’re askin’ for it,” he laughed.

“Yeah, I literally just asked for it.”

He nibbled at her throat. “Well, I’m gonna give it to ya.”

“Are you? You’re taking forever.” She pulsed her hand over the tip of his cock.

“Oh, I am.” He pushed up on his hands, hovering over her.

“Good,” she beamed, “give it to me, big boy.”

“It’s coming-”

“Not before I do,” she warned.

“Never,” he smirked. “You know how I roll.”

“I sure d-”

“Hold!”

A voice cried out and Dean’s head snapped back to look over his shoulder.

Patrick, the IT tech draped in Margraw’s costume and covered in fake fur, stood with arms crossed and a sour expression.

“You two know I’m still here, right?” he asked, eyeing each in turn.

Y/N could feel her cheeks burn and she dropped her legs from Dean’s ass and less than gracefully rolled out from under him.

“Sorry…”

Dean, however, was tickled pink about the whole situation. He laughed and pushed himself up to his feet. He turned to his fellow LARPer and shrugged.

“Maybe if you switch sides and play the hero for once, you could get some too.”

Patrick tapped an annoyed boot and sighed. “There are rules, ya know.”

Dean turned up the charm and threw his arm around the costumed monster. “I know, bud. Why don’t we go back to camp, hit the tavern, and you can tell me all about them.”

Y/N stood back a bit, fixing her skirts and pushing her boobs back into her corset. She watched as her knight in cheap armor and her attacker set off into the misty sunset.

Sure, maybe it was cheesy to some, but fighting a monster that definitely was not going to actually kill you was rather fun. There was plenty to do in the Kingdom of Moondoor, lots of adventure and pageantry, feats of skill and laughter. It was a relaxing weekend away from the real world, and Y/N loved sneaking away to enjoy it. Especially because she always got to go home with the handsome knight when the day was through…

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