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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

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eddie x fem! reader

masterlist

w/c 7.8k

summary: things heat up in more ways than one for the roommates, thanksgiving makes everyone thankful.

warnings: NO MINORS, language, fighting, mentions of child neglect, mentions of murder

a/n: thank you to my beta readers: @jo-harrington @sweetsweetjellybean pls check out their work they are both so amazingly talented 🩵 thank you to @blueywrites for screaming with me on certain parts of this story + @fracturedarkness for helping me plan future parts for this series.

again— I’m no longer doing a tag list for this series— this week as really opened my eyes to a bunch of shit in this world and I’m fucking pissed off about it.

“Do you think it’s enough food? Last year Mike ate all the mashed potatoes so I’m just hoping there is enough for everyone.”

The holidays were always a stressful time for most people, housewives stressing over meal planning, guest lists and matching outfits for their Christmas cards—ones that coordinated well and hid the fact that they were miserable with their lazy, limp dick husbands. Poor Nancy fell into that category all too well.

She’s walking circles around her dining room table, counting the dishes on her fingers. Ham, turkey, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn, green bean casserole, a relish tray, strawberry fluff, gravy, two pumpkin pies, two pecan pies, a jello mold, two dozen caramel Rice Krispie bars, a pan of iced banana bars, and one can of jellied cranberry sauce on a crystal plate.

When Nancy asked you to join the Wheeler/Byers/Hopper’s gang for thanksgiving this year, you quickly accepted the invitation, asking if there was anything you could bring. She requested you bring the dessert. So the night before Thanksgiving, you started the tedious task of keeping Eddie from eating all the icing and caramel.

“Eddie! Have you seen the caramels I just bought? They were on the counter next to the flour canister.”

“Nope! Haven’t theen ‘em,” he answers all too quickly, “you thur you bought ‘em?”

“Yes I’m su—,”

Goddamn him.

Walking into the living room you approach the metal head, splayed out on the couch, fingers shoved in his mouth picking at his teeth, “oh Eddie?”

“Mhmm?” He hums, innocently, looking at you with big doe eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to have caramel stuck in your teeth, the same caramel I bought and said, ‘please don’t eat these they’re for the Rice Krispie bars,’ would you?”

Rose colors his cheeks, “what? Me? Not listening? Ok O’Donnell,” he says with a scoff.

“Eddie,” you say sternly, hip thrown out and arms crossed over your chest.

“Ok! Fine! They were just so fucking good! But I’m dying right now— my teeth feel practically glued together— do we have any floss?!”

“Nance, I think there is more than enough here, you and Jonathan will have leftovers for weeks, months possibly.”

Fretting, Nancy wipes her fidgeting hands on her apron, “I just want it to be perfect— you know how I am.”

Type A, that’s how she was.

“It’ll be perfect, Nancy,” Jonathan agrees, coming up behind her and holding her around her small waist, “just like you.”

Scarlet heat accentuates her rouged cheeks. “Ok ok, no kissing the cook just yet,” she says, peeling herself from Jonathan’s arms, “can you and Argyle set the card table up in the basement?”

The turkey almost melted like butter on your tongue, the gravy was rich and savory. Karen’s cheesy potatoes were creamy and the crunchy cornflakes on top were to die for; the entire meal was delicious. The labor of Nancy’s love for her family and friends showing through her craftsmanship of amazing cuisine. You hadn’t seen Karen or Ted since the wedding, being the closest thing to parents you had, you were ecstatic when Karen joined you over the hot water and soapy sink, washing the china plates.

“So sweety, how have things been going lately? Nancy said you have a roommate?” Her tight blonde permed curls shaking behind her as she scrubs the pot used to make the gravy.

Drying the freshly rinsed dish, you answer with a coy smile on your face, “I’ve been good, doing better than I have in a while, yeah, I have a roommate, uhh Eddie Munson.”

“Oh Mike’s friend? He always was so kind to him, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes in high school,” she looks at you then, her lavender eyeshadow catching the light over the sink, “I’m happy you two are dating.”

Dating.

Dating Eddie Munson.

Scenarios fly through your mind, Eddie holding your hand at the movie theater, him behind you—his chin resting on your shoulder helping you play video games at Arcade Land, watching him write songs and play his guitar, kissing his lips sweetly, deeply— moving down his neck, his chest. His fingers on your thighs—

You’re sweating.

Head dizzy and full of visions of you loving Eddie and Eddie loving you back dance in your head.

“W-we’re not dating, just—”

How would you describe your relationship with Eddie? Roommates? Friends? Waiting for him to kiss you?

“—friends,” you say, enunciating the word slowly, rolling it off your tongue.

“Well,” Karen says, a hidden smile on her knowing lips, “I’m happy you two are just friends.”

Friends.

Such a complicated word. Because you and Eddie were more than that, but definitely not dating. The tension between you was electric, and sometimes jarring, but you went to bed thinking of him every night, hoping he would just open the door to your room, slip beneath the sheets and hold you while you dreamed.

[Two weeks prior]

The morning after you had comforted him, you woke up alone— his side of the bed still warm as if he had just gotten up. Sleeping so soundly you weren’t sure what day it was, or the time. The alarm clock on your night stand said 7 o’clock but that couldn’t be right. You and Eddie had both slept for over twelve hours, the comforting kind of sleep that lulls babies to sleep, gentle, sweet, pillowy dreams in one another’s arms. Getting dressed for work, you slip a pair of jeans on, and change into a long navy blue cardigan, headband to match. Lacing up your converse, you open your bedroom door.

Eddie’s in his room getting dressed for work when you find him. Knocking on the opened door gently, you poke your head in, his eyes lift and meet yours, a sleepy, coy grin colors his face, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, stopping mid button on his work coveralls.

The black bandana around his head presses his bangs nearly flat, the soft waves of his chocolate dipped curls reflect the sun light with a honey oranged hue.

“Hi,” your voice is small and meek.

An overwhelming feeling of dread* clouds your mind. Where would this new found friendship and comfort lead you both? Maybe Eddie was regretting the entire night. You haven’t been on this comfort level with someone you were physically attracted to ever. Steve was like a brother to you. And Chad— you were never comfortable with him, your skin crawling just thinking of it. But Eddie? The sight of him gave you butterflies, his arms holding your waist while you slept was an intimacy you haven’t experienced before, and you wanted to relish in the feeling of it.

He fiddles with his rings on his fingers, rolling them around and around before his mouth opens to speak, “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he blurts out, looking down in shame, unable to meet your curious eyes.

Barely comprehending that he’s apologizing for being vulnerable, you walk towards him slowly. He notices your staggering steps and inches backward. His walls are back up, caged in with his feelings, barbed wire on the top so you couldn’t find a way in, electric fence surrounding the brick walls—the highest voltage imaginable.

“Ed—”

“Please,” he begs, voice cracked and broken, wavering on another breakdown, “please don’t… I don’t need your sympathy.”

Tears well in your eyes at his recoiling. How can a night of comfort turn into despair and hostility the next morning? Nose burning, signaling your brain that tears would be falling any second, you wipe your eyes hastily.

Eddie felt like his neck was out, exposed to the world, waiting for the guillotine’s blade to slice his skin, until the crimson of his blood spilled in the basket, severing his head, a trophy amongst the weak.

Munson’s didn’t accept charity, his whole life that's what he felt like to Wayne, a charity case, a goddamn roadblock in Wayne’s life stopping him from finding a girlfriend, sleeping on a real bed, forcing him to work overnight just for Eddie— he’d never forgive himself for the pain he’s caused him— and now you? Offering your bed to him, your fingers twirling through his hair as he came undone. Whimpering like an infant, coating your thighs with thick tears. Sure it felt nice to have someone there with him, to reassure him it was all going to be okay, sweet, angelic voice of reason. But when he woke this morning he felt disgusting, like a predator, a vicious wolf preying on a sweet innocent lamb offering herself to him because he was upset.

He didn’t want that for you. He didn’t want to taint your soul with his past.

“I’m not giving my sympathy,” you voiced into the void, whether he heard it or not you weren’t sure.

Eddie breathing heavily, trying to contain his emotions from spilling out of him, “good, because I don’t want it.”

He walks around you in a huff, the muted scent of cigarettes and cologne hit your nose, as he passes you and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door all too hard. Following him, you’re certain you are full fledged crazy at this point, like in a scary movie when the lead actress stays in the house instead of running away.

Opening the door, opening Pandora’s box, you push it til it swings wide, he’s hovering over the sink brushing his teeth, white and blue toothpaste decorate the corners of his mouth.

“Tooty,” he groans, spitting a dollop of toothpaste into the sink, “seriously— I don’t want to talk about it, whatever you have to say save it for the human Care Bear Harrington—I don’t want to hear it.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Stones would be impressed with how still you’re standing, head raised waiting for him to look you in your eye. Refusing to break. A storm in your eyes threatening to flood. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything,” Eddie grunts impatiently, “are you ready?”

When you don’t say anything, he moves you out of the way, large hands around your arms, stepping around you and going into the kitchen.

Following him, you won't let up, his head in the fridge he pulls out the orange juice carton, drinking directly from the jug, “Eddie, you can talk to me about it, I’m a good listener.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, gasping for breath as he swallows the citrus liquid, “I said— I said, I didn’t want to talk about it and I meant it, I’m a grown ass man— ”

Interrupting him, not giving him time to finish you blurt, “Doesn’t make you less of one just because you’re upset.”

His teeth clench so hard they almost crack, his hands balled into fists at his sides, the orange juice container crumbling in his grasp. Years of therapy as a child did nothing to help him. And neither could you.

“Stop,” he snaps, his eyes pinched tight, a wave of fury washing over him, only seeing red. “Jesus Christ enough! I don’t need this shit right now, I’m gonna be late for work!”

He stomps towards the door, shoving his boots on haphazardly, throwing his leather jacket under his arm, the same leather jacket you had worn the night before, your perfume lingering on the inside.

The smell of you lighting his fire even more, he’s losing all self control.

“What’s your problem anyway?” he grumbles, kicking open the front door, waiting for you to follow. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, anger, crippling anxiety so deep he didn’t even know if he was breathing. But no matter how mad you looked, how many tears you kept wiping away from your lash line, he couldn’t stop.

Keys in the ignition he puts the van into reverse and yanks the wheel quickly, driving like he robbed a bank.

Anytime you try to speak he cuts you off.

“Do you like getting involved with people's lives? Why are you so desperate to know what happened? Need something to gossip about at the salon? So you and your boss can whisper shit about me again? Hmm? ”

“What the fuck are y—” you try to say, but he cuts you off again, he’s raging war on himself and on you, it’s far from over, no surrender flag in sight.

“That must be it right?” he preens, barely stopping at the stop lights as he flies to your work, tires squealing around corners, “I’m here because you need something to talk about, the well full of hot gossip of Hawkins must have run dry. Well guess what sweetheart? It’s not anything I haven’t heard before.”

He’s so clueless, so expertly out of sync with what you were trying to convey, what you were begging him to understand. The tears are free falling and you don’t stop them, screaming at him, “Eddie!”

“What?!” he barks back, chest heaving with hatred filled lungs and venomous words so toxic they’re burning your skin.

Aching soul and self doubt at an all time low you try to will the words to not shake as you deliver, “do you really think I would hold you while you were sad with any other intention than consoling you!? You were upset and the least I could do after you helped me was try to make you feel better!”

He tried to argue but it’s your turn to cut him off, holding up a hand as he fumed through his nose. He parks in back of the salon, slamming on the brakes as you both jolt forward. “Let it go, Too—”

“I care about you, you stubborn asshole!” You grab your purse between your feet and open the door and jump out.

“Just stop,” Eddie pleads, his eyes brimming with tears, “don’t.”

“I can’t,” you say back in a whisper, your voice breaking at the last syllable, you reach for the door, out of breath and holding in your sobs the best you can, “oh, and for the record— Josie was telling me to be nice to you and give you a chance— my mistake.”

Slamming the door you don’t hear him break, you don’t hear him thrust the heel of his hand into the steering wheel until it aches and burns. His nerves shooting pain through his entire arm. You don’t hear him scream and hate himself as he drives to work, his body soulless, empty, fragile.

“Tooty, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell Josie for the tenth time.

You definitely were not fine.

Distracted the minute you got to work, your mind raced with questions of the unknown. Hurt, confused and pissed off, you had mixed the wrong color formula for your clients hair, resulting in money down the drain from your own paycheck as you threw the mixture away and started it again, for the third attempt.

At 10 o’clock you were folding towels in the back when you realized you had bleached an entire load of darks. The once rich black towels were now faded with splotches of orange.

Eddie’s words had ripped through your heart, hurdling themselves into the deepest parts of you that were sheltered away from anyone, taking up solace in your forbidden soul, hollowing it out.

By noon you were crying while rolling a client's perm rods into her hair, having to step away multiple times before Josie gently told you enough was enough and that you should go home for the day.

Not wanting to call Eddie and get a ride you decided to walk the half mile through town back to your home on Cherry lane.

Kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe for most of the walk home, you mull over the events of the day. Wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan as you tread along the sidewalk.

[Thanksgiving Day]

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to Nancy and Jonathan’s? It’ll be fun!”

Eddie is leaned against the driver window of his van, his finger tracing a smiley face into the dust in the dash. “I wish I could, but Wayne and I go fishing every year on Thanksgiving— it’s a tradition.”

Every year since Eddie was ten years old, Wayne took him fishing on Thanksgiving, starting early in the morning and going until sundown, ending the night camping beneath the stars, cooking their daily catch for supper, “save me a piece of pie okay?” he finishes, ruffling up your hair, a shit eating grin on his lips.

Feeling horrible that your car was still out of commission, Eddie had let you borrow the van for the night after you dropped him off at Wayne’s. “And you’re positive it’s okay if I take the van?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Eddie’s laugh spread across his cheeks, the black beanie he has on his head inching closer to falling off every second, “Tooty,” he breathes, his brown eyes dipping into yours, “take the goddamn van and have a good time—and hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”

[2 Weeks prior]

🎶 it was the third of June another sleepy dusty delta day

I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was baling hay

Bobbie Jo’s tune was ringing in his ears all day— no matter how loud he cranked the radio in the shop, no matter how many times he tried to hum a different tune— her -* words rang through his mind like silk, coating his skin and implementing old memories he didn’t want brought up.

He was filled with fury. A ticking time bomb. It should have been no surprise when Sean and Aaron started poking at him, how unhinged he would become.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Munson,” Sean sneers, changing the oil on the Ford truck, “your little girlfriend finally figure out you’re a fucking loser?”

Eddie had already thrown a wrench across the shop out of frustration when he realized he forgot his lunch. He slammed the hood of a blue minivan on his fingers right after morning break, and now Aaron and Sean were starting in on him.

His breath erratic, trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself down but failing. His misery over taking his nerves. He grunts through barred teeth, “We aren’t dating,”

Sean perks up at the news, his wiry mustache splattered across his top lip like a squashed caterpillar, decrepit and sparse. “Oh shit, so she’s single, huh?”

“Damn,” Aaron chimes in, his hands cupped around his junk as he shakes it back and forth between his greasy hands, “what I wouldn't give to be balls deep in that pretty little mouth, that’d shut her up for good.”

“You’re skating on thin ice, fuck rag, I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” Eddie’s shoulders are tensed, adrenaline at an all time high. Fight or flight screaming through his blood racing through his heart and speeding up his heart rate.

“Whatchya gonna do about it, freak?” Sean spits pushing Eddie in the chest, “ ‘Name the time and place’ yeah motherfucker? How about right here right now?” Standing toe to toe with Eddie, but a foot shorter he peers into Eddie’s face, egging him on.

“Ever since you moved in with that whore you’ve been such a little bitch about everything— I mean I get it, honestly— Chad always said she had the sweetest p—”

Sean chokes on the last word as Eddie’s fist connects with his cheek, his rings would end up leaving bruises in their shape on his skin for weeks to come.

Sean throws a punch at Eddie but he is quick to dodge it, years of fighting in the trailer park giving him an upper hand. Blood spews from Sean’s mouth as Eddie upper cuts him in the chin, his tongue almost split in half as he bit down from the impact.

Eddie is blinded momentarily as Aaron socks him in the eye, a deep purpling plum colored bruise that took weeks to heal. Stumbling backwards his back hits the red sun faded tool box, Sean came swinging a crow bar out of nowhere and hit Eddie in the ribs, a groaning thud as the sound of his bones shatter in his body.

Behind his back, he reaches for whatever is closest, a wrench wrapped tight in his fingers gets thrown in the air at Sean, hitting him in the throat and knocking him over onto the smooth concrete of the shop floor, gasping for breath.

Aaron tackles Eddie, sending him into the air compressor, four fists are swinging and bodies shifting as they both struggle for dominance. Eddie’s lip is cut and his eye is swollen almost shut. Aaron’s nose is dripping blood on Eddie’s shirt as he punches him in the same place that Sean hit him with the crow bar. He’s able to get a knee up between Aaron and himself and twists his body to get above him, and when he does he lays punch after punch into Aaron’s swollen bloody face.

With each rocking fist connecting with flesh, Eddie has one thing on his mind, you. He thinks about the foul way they had disrespected you. The way you had cried when you told him you couldn’t stop caring about him. How he was close to losing you because he couldn’t open up and let you in. How terrified you must have been for all those years when you were scared and alone, nobody there to hold you and comfort you. And while he’s pummeling Aaron into a bloody pulp of cracked teeth and swollen eyes, it finally clicks for him.

The fight didn’t last long, but was effective enough to get Eddie suspended for the rest of the work day— and Aaron and Sean got a nice week's vacation with no pay.

Eddie’s knuckles are coated in a mixture of blood and spit. His jaw aches as he drives home with one eye open, it’s the clearest he’s seen in a long time.

[Thanksgiving]

“Fish ain’t bitin’ much are they?” Wayne and Eddie have both cast and reeled in their rods multiple times with zero luck. The small boat Eddie had gifted Wayne with for Christmas 3 years ago stood at still waters of Lover’s Lake, both men chilled to the bone.

“Nah, they sure aren’t. Probably no fish left in here after the summer you had.”

Since Eddie had graduated, Wayne dropped down to part time at the plant and went to dayshift. A true dream for him and for Eddie, offering to pick up most of the bills, a silent thank you for all the years that Wayne has taken care of him when he didn’t have to, but did anyway— the only caring person in his life, until you.

The wind whips through Eddie’s hair, tugging the curls out from the confinements of the cotton stocking cap snug on his head. The once crisp autumn foliage is soggy like forgotten cereal in a bowl of milk around them from the previous nights rain, chilling the usual humidity from the air and adding a depth of ice in their veins as they shake and shiver in their jackets, Eddie in his leather jacket, Wayne in a weathered faded khaki canvas coat.

Ruddy hands with silvered rings light two cigarettes, passing one to a pair of calloused, aged hands. Inhaling deeply and blowing warm smoke in the whispering winds of the quiet fog around them.

Wayne runs a rough hand over his sunned scalp, itching the small patches of hair left, as he readjusts his tattered cap, letting the nicotine settle into his bones and soothe the stubborn ache in his jaw, like ointment on an arthritic joint, “you ever gonna bring that girlfriend over to meet me or you keepin’ her alls to yourself?”

“What girl?” Eddie says quickly, coyly, blowing smoke into the space between the two of them, hiding his mouth with the curtain of his curls, opening the coffee can full of mud and worms, pushing another worm on the end of his hook.

Wayne hadn’t talked to him about girls since he was fifteen when he walked into his room and tossed a box of rubbers at his chest and grumbled, “use ‘em,” under his breath.

Irritation blooms against Wayne’s brows, “boy, don’t play dumb with me,” he cracks at Eddie, a false stern voice in his gruff voice, “the one you’re dating you little wise ass.”

“I’m not dating anyone, Wayne.” Eddie says, pretending to be preoccupied with the tackle box full of neon fishing lures and bobbers. He runs his thumb over the rough cracked surface of the faded red and white bobber, the same one Wayne gave to him when they started fishing all those years ago. The memory brings a smile to his face.

The gruff scoff from Wayne’s throat suggests bullshit to his ears from his nephew’s mouth, a noise Eddie has heard many many times in the two decades he had been living with Wayne, one that told him that he better tell the truth, and right the hell now. No matter that he now towers over Wayne, he’ll always be his boy, the wide eyed boy with a mountain of guilt on his shoulders, his son.

And as Wayne always knew— the more he poked and prodded, the more Eddie would clam up. They sit in comfortable silence, the slight breeze rippling the water on Lover’s Lake, rocking the small fiberglass boat and swaying the two Munson men gently.

How could he describe the relationship between you and him? Not dating, but hopefully more than friends. He didn’t have many friends that he’d willingly let help him battle his inner-most demons. In fact, Gareth and Jeff were still left in the dark about it. The breeze continues to grow frigid and burrows itself between the layers of his clothing, freezing his skin and peppering it with goose bumps. The chattering of Eddie’s teeth remind him of Steve’s birthday when he offered you his jacket, and opted to freeze the rest of the night just so you wouldn’t be chilly.

It’s simple really, he admitted it to Steve, but somehow admitting it to Wayne was worse than the hit from the box of condoms against his chest.

He says it all too fast, out of breath, and barely audible. But he says it. And a smile spreads across the weathered leather of Wayne’s face, pulling his mustache up, a glimmer of a sparkle in his eye, “see, now was that so bad?”

[2 weeks prior]

His knuckles ache, and he’s not positive if it’s from the blows to Aaron’s face or the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. His realization while busting open Aaron’s cheek made him eager to get home. Eager to clean himself up before he went to pick you up from work.

The house is silent as he walks through the garage, his angry hurtful words bounce back to him off the kitchen walls, the counter. The orange juice was still where he left it, crumpled and misshapen.

He truly was an asshole. Hurting the one person who cared for him other than Wayne. He sits down in a chair and unties his boots, blood splattered on the toes. Peeling the sweat stained work coveralls from his body, he tosses them down the steps to the basement, leaving them for later.

He stands partially naked in the kitchen, clad in only his underwear and socks, the kick of adrenaline wearing completely off, the promise of pain against his broken ribs rings searing heat through his body.

A glance around the kitchen stills the breath in his lungs. The kitchen is a wreck from the waffle night, the colossal beginning of a budding relationship that he was currently in the trenches hoping to fix. The once silky batter is now hard, pale concrete cemented onto the sides of the glass mixing bowl. The waffle iron was open, sprayed with cooking oil that was sitting with its cap off on the counter. The plates were sticky with cold syrup and now styrofoam resembled waffles, still on the table from where you had both sat. Forks and knives laying atop the ceramic plates in a haphazard way, awaiting the return of warm hands to finish their job.

Without thinking he starts to clean up, filling the sink with hot water, scraping the food from the plates into the garbage, putting away the orange juice and the left out butter and cooking spray. In no time the kitchen is sparkling and Eddie’s body is screaming at him to rest. The cuts on his knuckles are cleaned but swollen, soap stung from the water. His side aches, adrenaline slipping away with every growing minute.The pain is almost unbearable.

A clicking noise from the front door has him turning suddenly, a slight panic in his nerves as he stands stone still.

A block from the house, your tears return, cold, and stuck to your face like ice on poles. You’re exhausted, stomping the entire way home drove shin splints up your legs, the cold cramping dull in your calves. Thinking of Eddie the entire way home you are dumbfounded— completely and utterly confused at his reaction. How could he not know how you felt about him? Why was he begging you to stop? Wondering if you’ll ever get the answers to those questions you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your cardigan. If he was going to guard himself again, and put the barriers back up— so could you.

The door is stuck as you try to open it, pushing and shoving your shoulder into it, it finally gives, stumbling your way into the living room in the most ungraceful way. The scent of freshly wiped surfaces sting your nose and stop you dead in your tracks. You weren’t expecting to be relieved from seeing Eddie, but the relief is short lived as you notice the deep violet and indigo bruise painting his eye.

“Ed—,” you gasp, covering your mouth as you run towards him, foregoing the screaming in your legs, “wh— oh my God!”

His eyes melt at your appearance, scarlet rimmed eyes and wet cheeks take him in, eyebrows dipped into unease and apprehension. He feels your hesitancy, thick like fog surrounding you both as you reach your fingers up to his cheek. Ice cold pads of your fingertips skim the tender skin of his face, brushing the wispy hair of his bangs from his eyes with your fingertips to get a better look at him.

He doesn’t speak, barely breathing at your gentle touch on his face. The frosty coolness of your fingers burn his skin with every silky movement of your hands. He tries to avoid your eyes, avoid the pain he knew was from earlier and his cowardice.

Fingers dancing along his skin, you scan over his torso, the same way you did on the morning after Halloween, the bruising from the mishap of the steps is replaced by a pattern of splotchy deep bruising.

“They’re broke,’’ Eddie groans, his split lip ripping open, from him trying to force a smile, “looks cool though right?”

Using humor to deflect the true way he feels was an easy defense mechanism for him, but you won’t bite. Won’t take the bait he’s dropping into your waters, won’t nibble at his small offering.

Trying not to break, you stand your ground, “what happened?”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” Eddie says, eyes casted downwards at your hands near his ribs, “I was just having a shitty enough day— my own fault—“, he adds quickly, his eyes flicking to yours, not wanting to put salt into the already festering wound he created, “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

“And now I’m going to take care of this,” he motions between you both, sliding his hands down your arms and settling them in your hands.

“Tooty— I,” he exhales as deep as his lungs will allow given the break in his ribs, spilling his stitched up heart to you, letting the walls fall with each word, “I’m sorry— I’m so fucking sorry. Nothing I do or say will ever amount to how shitty I feel for making you cry, for pushing you away. I’m a coward when it comes to this type of shit, and it was too heavy— too muddy for me to explain. I figured if I’d shut you out you’d go back to how it was before— before Harrington’s birthday, before Halloween befo—,”

A shake of your head and a sharp intake of breath come from your body. Did all of this mean nothing to him? The flirting, the gentle touching, the sweet gestures? It was all just something he wanted to forget?

Voice small and shallow, “Is that what you want Eddie? To go back to how it was before, when you first moved in?”

A single tear falls from your face, and without thinking, without second guessing himself or wondering if you would think he was being weird, Eddie is quick to brush it away with the curl of his forefinger. His swollen knuckles are tight and achy. He tries to hide a hiss from his teeth, wanting to live in this euphoric moment for as long as he can, as long as you will allow him to. He extends both hands now to your face, his rough thumbs rubbing over the expanse of your cheeks, fingers behind your ears, curling into your hair.

“I want,” he breathes easy now, as if the touch of your skin on his fingers mended his broken bones, his eyes soft where it allowed, one still swollen shut, “I need you to know that I care, too— and I don’t want you to ever quit caring about me— baby, I’ve cared about you for years—- and I can’t get myself to stop.”

And when a sob breaks from your chest, he pulls you into him, “c’mere,” the sensation steals the breath from your lungs, you’ve never been touched with such gentleness, such care. He’s holding you as if you’re glass. Fragile, cracked and held together with shitty Elmer’s glue that was a tempting snack for children. It’s so delicate the way he’s stroking your skin.

Minutes or hours pass you’re not sure. His warmth engulfs you, his musky cologne and spiced deodorant is a gentle blanket around you. Wrapping you in a swaddle of his admiration.

His hair tickles your cheeks, tattooed arms are twisted in your hair,and wrapped around your back. The shine of your tears coat his bare chest, his chin rests on top of yours breathing in your hair shushing you gently.

You spend the night working Eddie’s rings from his already swollen fingers, pressing ice packs to his bruises and spreading neosporin on his cut lip, rubbing it gently with the tip of your finger, Eddie giggles at the concentration on your face and the way your tongue is poked out.

He’s infatuated with the way you make him feel. His heart soaring higher and higher with each delicate touch of your fingers on his skin.

He’s up late that night, stomach full from your homemade chicken noodle soup and his heart even more full. Flying higher than cloud nine, your sweet face on his mind.

[Thanksgiving]

A sadistic voice echoes from your tv screen, “a little young for ya isn’t she Richie? BEEP BEEP RICHIE!”

Richie Tozier sips the Dixie cup of water, leaning against the bookcase in the Derry library, Pennywise continues his antics of torture as balloons drop from the ceiling, popping with blood spluttering on the library go-ers faces, oblivious to the fantasy nightmare Pennywise ensues.

The front door opens with a thud as a shriek and the popcorn bowl on your lap goes flying through the air. Eddie walks hurriedly through the door. A shivering spine of fear and realization hits you all at once. His boisterous laugh reverberates the living room walls as he picks popcorn from your hair, and places it in his mouth, a loud crunch between his teeth as he plops down next to you on the couch.

“Think you got your holidays mixed up, sweetheart— it’s Thanksgiving, Halloween was last month.”

Rolling your eyes you make a face to mock him, which only fuels his fire and has his cold fingers jabbing into your sides and tickling you so hard you scream out. Begging him to stop.

“Don’t!,” you squeal, holding your breath and giggling at his unrelenting tickling. He finally gives up after your face has gone red and your hair is a mess, laughing tears rolling down your cheeks.

Eddie sits back on the couch taking a huffing breath, a wild smile spreading from ear to ear, “that’s what you get for watching IT without me!”

Scoffing, you pick up the bowl of popcorn and the paled yellow crunchy kernels spilled on the ruby red throw blanket, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be camping with your uncle tonight?”

Eddie breathes out a sigh, bending at the waist to gather the kernels off the floor. The rest of the fishing trip with Wayne, Eddie spent it quieter than he had ever been, contemplating his next move, how could he show you that he was serious? How could he let you in? Show you his ugly past without scaring you, without you running for the hills? The answer was easy.

“I have something— somewhere I wanna show you,” he whispers, standing to his full height. Looking for the familiar mischievous glimmer in his eye, you are surprised by the genuine sparkle replacing it. His face his earnest, almost a look of doubt on his lips, scared of your reaction.

He peels the blanket from your lap and reaches down, his hand held out extended to yours, “come with me?”

The air is bitter. The driveway is glittering with a sequined frost, dancing with the shine of the street lights. Warm breath fills the inside of Eddie’s van as he slots the key into the ignition and fires it up, cranking the heat. Snuggling further into your knitted scarf, hiding the chill of your nose as Eddie backs down the driveway, heading out of town.

It doesn’t take long to get to where he was going, the drive in silence had you questioning what was going on in his mind. The path was overgrown, hidden from the road, hidden from anyone who didn’t know that it was there. The headlights of the van bob along with each sunken hole on the dirt drive. Jostling the van this way and that.

Nestled into thick trees past an old loose and corroded barbed wire fence, in place for property lines, sits a small house, paint chipped and barely visible. The roof was caved in by a large tree falling on it, the sagging porch still had bleached yellow crime scene tape hanging on by threads to the moss eaten pillar.

Eddie throws the van in park, sniffling slowly and looking around. “This uh,” he stutters, clearing his throat, “this is where I lived with my mom, my old man was in and out most of the time—drunk or in jail, I don’t remember him being here that much except the last time.”

Silence is golden, and you give him your undivided attention as he twists in his seat, bent knee leaning on the door frame.

“That,” he says pointing to the fallen tree in the back, “was an apple tree, apples this big around I swear,” he motions his hands in a circle, a chuckle in his throat, “we didn’t live here for very long, a year, or two maybe…”

His voice fades, and at first he second guesses bringing you here. He can imagine you piecing this puzzle of woe together, his life. The tragic tale of Eddie Munson, he didn’t spin a web of luxuries for you to pretend with him for a moment, a second, that he was anything other than what he was—but when your cotton gloved fingers slide into his, interlacing them—it gives him the courage, the resilience to continue.

“…I was six when it— when she was… he—,” he trails off, unable to finish, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. The abandoned house, the barely-there flicker of yellow tape, she wasn’t only dead— she was murdered, by his father’s hand.

Comprehending what he’s getting at, you can practically hear his heart breaking. Eyes never leaving his face, you take him in, his eyes are wet as he blinks back tears, using his other hand to pinch the inner corners of his eyes, and hide behind his hair, his face is ashen, once ruddy cheeks from when he came home and tickled you is now swallowed by stale ash, sucking the life from his eyes, his cheeks, his soul.

“.. right in front of me…” he hangs his head low, sniffing quietly, “Wayne took me in after that.”

Eddie and you were alike in more ways than you had thought, although your parents were still alive, they were equally absent from your life, much like Eddie’s parents. Sure you both had people who took care of you, and as sweet as the gesture was, it was never really the same. The aching torture of having to defend for yourself, put a brave face on for your temporary care takers so you don’t seem like a bother to them, so they won’t worry about the weight of taking you in— was all too familiar.

“Eddie,” you whisper softly, rubbing his hands with your thumbs.

Yearning and breaking for him, the cords of your heart reach to his, tethering them together as you slide over the center council, and carefully land into his lap. He’s surprised at first by your brazenness, but once you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him into you, he melts like chocolate at your heated touch.

Your fingers tug into his hair at the nape of his neck, his nose and lips make their way in between your scarf and your neck, the slight chill against your skin sends goosebumps down your spine, a throbbing in your core.

Realization spreads through your heart, your brain, the hair follicles on your head, the painted nails on your toes. Holding him, him holding you, his arms around you, your arms buried in his hair, his fingers rubbing patterns into your back as he sighs deeply and regulates his breath—for the first time in your life, you realize this is what love feels like.

To be loved and to be in love. It was undeniable. Right? Friends didn’t do this. Roommates didn’t do this. But two people who cared deeply for one another and were bonded together by more than just traumatic circumstances? That was love.

In this moment, nothing else matters.

It’s just you and him.

Him and you.

The flutter of your heart short circuits as it seeps hot sticky love all over your face, blooming warmly in your cheeks. Grasping him tighter, you pull away, settling your forehead into his. Whiskey poured eyes staring back into yours, for a brief second you swear you can feel his heart flutter with yours, beating as one.

Eddie doesn’t play his music loud on the way back. A comfortable echoing still in the van as it clunks along the road. His voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. He feels satisfied. Happy even? Like the weight of the world was off of his shoulders by you simply knowing his past. You didn’t ask questions and in the moment he didn’t need you to. His arms wrapped around you was more than enough, your fingers twirling in his hair, the smell of your perfume behind your ear. The way you let him grieve, let him take you somewhere he hasn’t gone in years, was something he’d appreciate for a lifetime to come.

Once home it’s like any normal night, only he doesn’t tease you. He doesn’t fight over the bathroom or use your toothbrush, he doesn’t argue when you pop Christmas Vacation into the VCR, even though you can quote the entire movie. He’s completely engulfed by you, watching you brush your hair, the extra roll of the waistband of your pajama pants. The ridiculous colors of your fuzzy socks you insisted on wearing now that the weather was colder.

He’s never felt nervous around a girl before, usually throwing himself around, showing off his exquisite rack like a stacked buck in rut, rubbing his antlers on trees, showing his mighty dominance.

But you weren’t just another lonely girl looking for a night with a lead singer, or a girl pretending to be in love with him just so she could score coke from his supplier while also fucking him behind his back, and you definitely weren’t a faceless girl that he plowed to forget it all.

Meaning much more to him than just some silly fuck, or a high school “sweetheart” that ended up being a heartless cunt, or a dumpster for his cum.

No.

You were much more than that, to him.

More than a roommate, more than a friend, more than Eyeball’s bratty fucking sister.

He could write sonnets about the little lines in between your brow when you pulled your eyebrows together, usually when you were mad at him. He could sing songs about your laugh, not the small polite one, the loud one, the one that rang every doorbell to his heart and and he gladly answered. He could hum a tune of gratitude about your cooking and the silent ways you care for him and your close friends. He’d get his ass kicked by the entire male population of Hawkins if it meant keeping you safe.

You were it for him.

The only one to make him feel, the only one he wanted to see at the end of the day, in the morning when he got up.

Watching you giggle and let out a yawn, he places a couch pillow between his hip and yours gesturing for you to lie down. He almost goes into cardiac arrest when you move the pillow entirely, your head resting in his lap. A sleepy smile on your face as you tug the blanket under your chin.

Yup.

You were it for him.

And he's a sucker, addicted to the way you made him love you so effortlessly.

hope you all enjoyed this volume! volume ix is where it heats up 🔥

@big-ope-vibes @br0ck-eddie @b-irock @loveshotzz @mopeymopeymouse @shiftingtherain @courtingchaos @nightonblogmountain @word-wytch @ghost-proofbaby @hanobe8 @abibliophobiaa @joejoequinnquinn just a few of the coven 🩵🩷

This is for you

*sacrifices 🖕🏼

#honey i’m home #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things x y/n #eddie x you angst #Eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you fluff

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thehusbandoden · 9 months

Text

A Day Off -Dad! Dabi x Mom!Reader

It's really late but I finished this a little while ago and wanted to post it now.

Fluff | 1,471 words

Dabi's real name used + (spoilers below)

An au where Touya doesn't become Dabi the villain, but instead a loving father to your three kids. (Plus the number one hero)

Touya grinned as he finished breakfast, happy to help you out and give you a well deserved break.

You and Touya have been married for eight and a half years. You two met at UA high, and an epic love story commenced. You two were made for each other, finding one another again again, no matter how many times you thought things were entirely over.

Touya gave you happiness in life, and you gave him sanity. He almost ran from home many times, and even got seven miles out of the city on foot before you found him, panting on your bicycle.

Touya was quite mad at you for going so far alone at night, and you were utterly livid that he just tried to leave you.

Before Touya could scold you, you blew up on him, tears running down your cheeks as you cussed him out, telling him if he ever tried to leave you again you would hunt him down and break his legs.

Even as you threatened him he hugged you, rubbing his hands up and down your back for comfort.

You two called a friend to pick you up, and you went on with your life. A little more in love with each other than before.

And here you two were, twelve years later. Married, with three kids.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Haru squealed, pulling on Touya's "kiss the chef" apron, red pig tails bouncing up and down.

"Yes, Pumpkin?"

"Mommy awake"

"Already? Go show her your picture, try to stall her, mkay?"

"Okays!"

Touya smiled as the four year old ran off to stall her mother, heart melting at her innocence.

Going back to cooking, Touya hoped you would be distracted for at least a few more minutes.

~Your pov:~

Confused, you picked up your phone to check the time.

7:51

Panicking, you bolt up from bed, sprinting towards the door, stubbing your toe on a toy.

Inwardly cursing, you open the door to your shared bedroom, making your way into the hallway.

"Mommy! Wook at my dwawing!" Haru exclaimed, heterochromatic eyes shining as she shoved the paper in your face.

"Oh it's so pretty! Why don't you go show Daddy while Mommy goes to get your brothers ready?"

Haru smiled and ran away with a giggle, making her way to the kitchen.

Sighing, you made your way to your boys' room. Opening the door, you were surprised to see their beds empty.

"Taro, Riku~!" You call, walking towards the kitchen.

"We're in the entrance mom!" Taro calls, bringing you towards his voice.

"I'm sorry I woke up late, let's get ready quickly, and I'll buy you guys breakfast on the way there." You coo, stepping into the entrance of your home.

"But- we're not gonna be late. And we already ate!" Riku replied, popping his (h/c) head out to look at you.

"Hey mama, I already got everything handled, go get some more sleep." Dabi hummed, eyes soft as his head popped out as well, turquoise eyes soft as he smiled at you.

"You... You are amazing." You sigh, smiling up at your husband as he hummed, walking towards you.

"Well if you think I'm that amazing, you could always reward me with a kiss?" Touya smirked, leaning towards your lips teasingly.

Chuckling, you slowly closed the distance.

Right as your lips met your kiss was interrupted by your kids' squeals.

Haru was squealing in joy, always happy to see her parents show affection to one another.

Riku was disgusted, never wanting to see anybody receive any sort of affection besides what he got from both his beloved mommy and daddy.

And Taro- the only one who didn't squeal.

He was beet red.

He dreams of the day when he finds the perfect woman -much like his perfect mama- and has a family of his own.

He loves both of his parents. And strives to be the perfect husband and dad -like his daddy- and find the perfect wife -like his mama-.

You smiled as Riku wailed in despair, shaking Haru as she jumped up and down, Taro only staring at his parents in awe.

"Ri-ri, you'll give your sister a headache, quit that. Ru, you're gonna pass out if you don't calm down, and Ro, for the sake of your ma, you need to breathe." Touya sighed, a smile on his lips as he eyed his gorgeous mismatched children in adoration.

Taro, the seven year old eldest by forty three minutes.

He has crimson red hair resembling Touya's. He got his grandma's eyes, but also a splash of yours. Resulting in gorgeous steel gray eyes with a breathtaking splash of (e/c) around the pupils. His facial structure is most similar to Touya's, but he takes after your personality, attitude, and tendies.

Though it would be hard to tell by someone who's not close to your family due to his shy nature concealing it.

He's known for his respectful, peaceful, and polite nature. The calmer of the twins, and the least likely to cause any sort of problem.

Riku, the younger, rambunctious twin.

Riku has (h/c) hair and turquoise eyes. He looks almost exactly like his mum, and gets his fiery personality from his dad.

He's known as the trouble maker, but he does have his gentle moments.

And the four year old youngest, Haru.

Haru has crimson hair like her daddy and big brother. And, like her uncle Shoto, has two different eye colors. Her left eye is the same gorgeous color of her mama's, and her right eye is the same breathtaking turquoise as her dad's. She looks identical to her dad, and has a fun, very very bright personality.

She's known for her sweetness, creativity, and selflessness.

Touya was snapped out of his thoughts as Haru and Riku pulled at his sleeves, warning him that they'd be late if they didn't hurry.

Laughing he pecked you on the lips before following his darlings out the door, telling you that he'd be right back.

It was half an hour later when Touya walked back in, immediately finding his place on top of you as you laid on the couch.

"Oof- hey baby.. where's Haru?"

"She's at uncle Shoto's house. I thought we could use some alone time."

"Oh? And what are you planning on doing?"

Shifting his way so he could look you in the eyes, he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

"Guess."

Twelve minutes later you were laughing in the kitchen as Touya licked the brownie mix off of the side of your mouth, holding your waist to keep you steady.

"To-To-Touya!" You laugh, pushing your beloved back playfully.

"Hmm?" He asks, pulling you in for a chocolate tasting kiss.

"We need to finish these so we can have room for the cleaning, cuddles, and movie date." You breathe against his lips, making him groan.

"But you taste so good!" He wails in despair, falling against the fridge dramatically.

"Help me get these in the oven and I'll reward you with a kiss~." You coo, instantly seizing the pro's attention.

Two batches of brownies and one marathon of cleaning later, you and Touya were cuddled up on the couch, remote and brownies in hand.

"Oooh! Let's watch (f/m)!"

"UGHH~ we are xnotx watching that again!"

"Why not? It's a great movie."

"And we've seen it forty thousand and a bajilion times."

"You are xsox immature To."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am no-"

"This is exactly what I'm talking about!"

"You're doing it too~!"

"Fine! What movie do you want to watch?"

"Princess Bride."

"No way."

"And why not? Princess Buttercup~."

"Because we've seen it seventy thousand, bajilion times~!"

~Bonus~

"I have no idea who you are talking about. You own no child here." Shoto stated, voice as monotone as ever.

"Umm what the fu- fudge! Fudge!" Touya growled, rubbing his side where you just elbowed him.

"Sho we need Haru." You smile, pinching Touya's arm playfully, causing him to yelp.

"Haru is mine now."

"Oh no she is not. Give me back our daughter." Touya growled, stepping close to the menace of a little brother he has.

"You do not have a dau-"

"Shoto dear.. give us our Haru or we will personally burn your favorite cold soba restaurant, all the others and all of the factories producing the ingredients and instant noodles." You smile, eyes holding an evil only a protective parent or lover could produce.

Shoto's face paled as he stepped inside, quickly returning with a sleeping Haru in his arms.

"I- I was kidding.. please don't burn my soba." Shoto pouted, usually monotone voice holding a certain fear.

".. we'll count this as a warning." You drawl, staring Shoto down meaningfully.

Slightly nodding, Shoto quickly closed his door, shivering at the thought of no soba.

Similar to this: Anything For my Queen

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Tips <3

Comments, Requests, and Reblogs are always appreciated<33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

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miss-conjayniality · 10 months

Text

Miss Domme

pairing: sub!jay x dom fem!reader

genre: smut (+ fluff)

word count: 2.9k

warnings: MINORS DNI, unprotected s3x (wrap it before you tap it irl daahhlliingggs), dom reader, submissive husband jay, usage of toys (ribbons and c0ck rings), mild degradation (reader teases jay a lot and calls jay a filthy s*ut, but is mostly a soft dom throughout. definitely heavy on the petnames!), sub top x dom bottom dynamic

synopsis: you’re a famous international beauty pageant winner. you’re incredibly successful and beautiful. you’re kind, charitable, and giving. you’re the epitome of beauty and brains. a real-life princess. you also happen to be the wife of a very wealthy, prominent, powerful gentleman - jay! some people think he has lost his mind and become possessed by you because of how deeply in love he is with you. I mean, do we blame him? you’re literally so gorgeous, intelligent, and gracious.

and of course………………….you two share an extremely filthy secret together. you may be miss *[y/c] to the rest of the world. but behind closed doors? you’re Miss Domme…..

*[y/c] = your country

A/N: you know….i’ve been binge watching a LOT of beauty pageants lately. i was in the middle of watching the swimsuit segment of a miss universe show. and suddenly this idea randomly STRUCK me ……..… literally out of NOWHERE 😳……………………………………………

A/N #2: my debut fic alas! miss-conjayniality hot debut let’s goooo! 🤪🥰 this took me sooooo long to complete 😮‍💨 good gawd….I intended for this to be shorter but i kept adding more and more ideas to it, briefly encountered writer’s block in the midst of it, AND kinda rewrote some of it too…..nonetheless, it’s finally out! 🤌🏼

you confidently strut into your shared bedroom, igniting the scene with your sexy, flirty walk. the same charming walk that made you win over the nation. you’re donning a silk blush pink bikini with a sarong, beige chinese laundry teaser2 tippy top platform heels, black acrylic nails, curled hair, dewy makeup with pink lip gloss, a mouawad diamond crown, and a sash that says Miss Domme on it. yup, you read that right - miss domme…….

jay, sitting on the bed, takes the time to just stop and stare. to let the moment sink in. to appreciate your beauty. your regal and poised nature, your ethereal presence, and the way you light up the room the moment you enter it. he has so much love inside for his mesmerizing wife. every day, he is immensely grateful for you.

he then notices the two black ribbons and vibrating ring in your hands and already knows what’s gonna happen next. he unbuttons his dress shirt and you’re welcomed by the sight of his stunning, tanned, godlike top half. he leans back against the plush pillows of his smooth, luscious black silk bedsheets, and spreads his arms out, demonstrating his eagerness to get tied up already.

and don’t even lie….it’s tempting to just cut to the chase and devour him right away just at the sight of his bare chest and his needy temperament. but you know it’s best to maintain your decorum and start out with your foreplay of long-winded seduction before the big attack. you give him a content smile and tie the ribbons around his arms against the metal headboard of your shared bed.

you do a quick check-in with him and ensure he’s still feeling comfortable before proceeding. no matter what, it is always of utmost propriety and proper decorum to you that consent is granted.

“are you feeling okay pumpkin?” you ask as you softly look him in the eyes and scratch his head. “do you still wanna do this?”

“yes miss domme. i am all yours as always.”

“good. let me know if at any moment you aren’t feeling okay and I’ll stop. got it angel?”

“of course. I love you so much, miss domme. I always trust you no matter what. you are my everything.”

you flash a relaxed, content grin and a peck a playful kiss on his forehead. he’s so effortlessly adorable sometimes. it drives you crazy. you can’t tell if you wanna pinch his cheeks or devour his soul with a flurry of butterfly kisses all over his body. we’ll wait and see!

you are jay’s trophy wife - a beauty queen who is the living personification of elegance, intelligence and glamour. you’re a real life princess. someone passionate about community service, and advocating for social justice causes close to your heart. miss [y/c] indeed - a proud representative of your home country. someone who aims to create change in the community and spread awareness to the issues that matter to you and your country the most.

you have a heart of gold and it’s evident in the way you treat both yourself and others with respect. some even find you cold and intimidating because of how beautiful you are, how you conduct yourself, and how much you’ve accomplished in your life. but the moment you smile at them and converse with them, their nerves are eased.

people either love you or hate you. there is no between. you’re either seen as the epitome of beauty and brains, or you’re seen as a superficial gold digger who leveraged her sex appeal and beauty queen status to ensnare a wealthy, dignified man like jay. others see beyond that and know the value you bring to the community and acknowledge that the inner beauty of your soul shines just as much as the outer beauty of your charming smile.

either way, jay is extremely head over heels in love with you. he sees you as a living goddess. he views you as a poised lady with the magnetism of aphrodite and the wisdom of athena. some people swear he’s lost his mind ever since he met you because of how deeply he is in love with you. but he doesn’t care because you’re his precious, beautiful wife whom he’d move the earth and sky for. he’s highly protective of you. he’s a VERY passionate lover. you’ve seduced him into a trance. you are his spoiled princess whom he adores with all his heart. he will lavish you with grand gestures as a tribute to his seismic adoration for you. he worships the ground you walk on.

that being said, you two share an extremely filthy secret together that contributes to the some of the aforementioned traits of your marriage. while it certainly isn’t the only reason why he’s so whipped for you, it sure is a major weakness of his….

and what was that dirty secret again? 🤨 oh right - miss domme. the moment he sees you donning your skimpy little swimsuits, chinese laundry tippy top platform heels, your rhinestone crown and your signature miss domme sash, he crumbles. he’s at your mercy. whenever he’s on a business trip where he can’t bring you, he packs one of your bikinis and uses it to get off in order to blow off some steam at the end of his long days filled with busy projects and mind-numbing meetings. he then films himself doing so and sends it to you. but HMMM…that’s a story for another day daahhllinggsss…..

whenever you seduce him with your velvety, graceful words, he is done for. you may be Miss [Y/C] to the rest of the world. but behind closed doors? you’re Miss Domme…..

“so cute seeing such a powerful, dignified gentleman like you turn into someone so needy for my touch,” you coo to a tied up jay. “beneath that cold, chic, manly dilf exterior of yours is a filthy slut who thrives off of getting pleasured to oblivion by his pretty little princess. isn’t that right, buttercup?”

“hnngh- ….. y-yes miss domme. you’re right,” he softly winced.

his top half is bare, yet his suit trousers still remain on. you rub your crotch on his clothed bulge, and then lean into his shoulders, start caressing his bare skin, and start moaning into his ear as a way to incite more arousal. you then face him and begin making out with him, leaving behind the taste of your buttery lipgloss that he LOVES.

you then move down his neck, and to his chest because you want to leave behind even more of your beloved shimmery, buttery gloss until it’s fully wiped away. the sight of his tanned, toned body marked by your lip gloss is indeed a priceless work of art worth ogling at forever……….

jay winces at the sensations. “m…m-miss domme? when can I touch you?”

“soon, i promise,” you reassured.

you continue showering jay with kisses all over his body for another minute. then, you pull down his pants and are welcomed with the sight of his freed, erect shaft sprung up by your provocations….

before beginning, you adjust your crown. you start off by licking your way up to the tip. jay releases a hiss because despite it being such a minuscule action, he will take absolutely anything from you because of how needy he is right now.

now….here comes the fun part. first, you grab the vibrating cock ring and insert the ring around his throbbing member. with the remote in your hands, you turn it on at the lowest setting.

jay gasps at the sensation of the sudden change. whiny moans & cries IMMEDIATELY leave his mouth the moment you press that button.

the sight is endearing. it takes you every ounce of willpower to not stop, stare and drool at the sight in front of you because truthfully? you’d cum just at the sight of that. but we still have so much more left to do……

next, you slowly engulf his cock into your mouth. jay DESPERATELY wants to thrust his hips down your throat so he can feel even more of your heavenly mouth alongside the vibrating ring. but he’d rather not risk it because he wants to be a good boy to his beloved miss domme and not get punished. 🥺

jay’s breathing becomes more frantic, chest heaving really fast.

“AH-……hnnnng. ugh F-FUCK …..miss domme please spare me,” jay begs with tears sliding down his face. you briefly take his girth out of your mouth and strike a smirk at him, your hands on his cock temporarily replacing your mouth as you respond to him.

“not yet cutie. be a good boy and take whatever i give you. understood?” you assert before heading (no pun intended) back to engulfing his length.

“yes m…mi- AH…..m….miss domme,” he struggles to let out through choked sobs.

what a sight to behold. a sweaty, whiny, needy jay shuddering at the verge of tears because of how deadly you are….how cute….

you allow all the drool from your mouth to salivate itself onto his girth to make it even more wet, and start bobbing your head deeper - still taking it slowly, but gradually picking up the pace. you choose to continue taking it slowly and just……having fun with it. playing around with his kisses, licks, and moans around his shaft that make his brain short-circuit at the sudden vibrations of your voice and sends shivers down his spine. his buzzing cock ring certainly adds more fuel to the fire….

“AH- miss domme…p-please…fuck…I don’t think I can take it any longer.” he pleads. his winces and grunts continue to get louder and louder.

you continue moaning around his length and pleasuring him with your tongue. it seems like his orgasm was around the corner. therefore, you slyly take your mouth off his cock and turn off the toy. he lets out a loud wince at the orgasm denial because he was so close.

“don’t cum yet my love,” you chuckle, “we aren’t finished yet.”

“when will i finally be able to?” he pouts.

“I haven’t even untied you yet cupcake. don’t worry. we’re getting there.”

as you untie the restraints from the headboard, jay immediately gets up, wraps his arms around you, and starts kissing you.

“Mmm…..love…you….miss…..domme…” he says in between each kiss.

his cute, mushy kisses are hard to resist. after all, he is a very affectionate sweetheart. but you still pull away because you had other intentions in mind. “aw buttercup, I love you too. but let’s make out later because right now, i am eager to get you ruined like a slut.”

you lightly push him back against the pillows. you start strip your swimsuit off, piece by piece. starting with the untying of your sarong, then your bikini top, and of course, sliding away your soaked thong. because your thong was so tiny and skimpy, your wetness is prominent from all the provocations you’ve made tonight.

you look him in the eyes as you caress your miss domme sash to draw special attention to it. then, you swiftly slide it off and carefully place it on the nightstand beside your shared bed, alongside your crown. the shoes stay on though….cuz you LOVE the way those sexy beige platform stilettos elongate your body AND complement the warm, golden complexion of your naked body.

despite his eagerness for the slow and painful teasing to stop, he drools at how you striptease your way into your raw, wet, and naked glory. his heart skips several beats and his breath hitches a little. his erection stiffens as each part of you gets revealed one by one. his desires ignite him into a trance.

once you’re complete with the unveiling, you grab his dick and position it so that it’s in front of your stomach. your arms make your way around his shoulders and you’re leaned against him.

“alright loverboy. show me how desperate you are to fuck my soaking pussy. you’ve been such a good little whore for your beloved miss domme,” you chuckle. “it must’ve been hard work to try and hold back all your lustful impulses. I consider that a significant feat, considering how irresistible i am. you did a great job at demonstrating restraint. you’re now free to let go of those stipulations and let loose.”

jay is speechless and bewildered by your words. he expected you to ride him because he was ready to fully surrender and whore himself out to you. only to realize that you want him to prove to you how desperate and needy he is to get his dick wet to you. to prove to you how much he craves the raw feeling of your soaked cunt.

“ah, m-miss domme. i-….i don’t know if i can. you always feel so good and it makes me so weak and-,” he nervously utters.

“it’s okay jay. you got this. i have full faith in you. i can help you start,” you respond with encouragement.

before inserting it in, you first slide your folds back and forth on his shaft. a couple moans exit your mouth, and it isn’t helping jay’s antsy feelings one bit.

“m-miss domme. please….i’m so needy that it hurts. i need it so much. i-”

“don’t worry, we’re getting there.”

you intertwine your hands with his and give him a reassuring kiss, and continue holding his hands throughout.

once it’s been slid inside you, he doesn’t hold back one bit. you enjoy staring him down - seeing his frantic, fucked out expressions as he wets his painfully stiff cock, desperately jerks himself off, and whores himself away to the sensation of your tight heat.

“fuck, jay. you’re doing so well. so…s-….so well for miss domme. keep going babe…you got this,” you praise.

for a while, he’s able to plunge himself erratically because it helped him release his pent up desperation. but eventually, he tires himself out, yet still wants more.

“miss domme….miss domme….m-…miss domme,” he keeps sputtering over and over again like a broken record.

that’s when you finally start riding and bouncing on his dick, skin slapping noises inundating the room. his wails get even louder with each undulation of yours. jay is writhing for you.

it really boosts your ego to see such a strong, sexy, powerful man like jay get reduced to a pretty little slut who can’t live without your touch. he loves to let you use him for your own personal pleasure and milk every drop out of him until there’s none left. he finds it so hot how much power you possess over him. it gets him off just as much as it gets you off.

gradually, the excessive ramming led you close to your climax.

“jay,” you grunted, “m’ close. just let it all out love.”

jay’s eyes were left wide open at the sight of you convulsing and the sensations of your heat throbbing. the sound of your moans and grunts are pure music to his ears. he loves that he makes you feel good.

your release led to his own orgasm shortly thereafter. you kept bouncing through his climax to keep milking his seed and overstimulate him a little.

“AHH-…M- ….. I-…SSSS D-…..DOMME,” jay screams out. each undulation of yours intensifies the spasming sensations, gradually leading to a second peak for both of you.

jay slides out of you and both of you lay on the bed, hurried breathing being the only sound to take over the room.

“how are you feeling pumpkin?” you worriedly ask as you face his direction, “are you feeling any pain?”

“nope. you made me feel so good tonight miss domme. just a little soreness but it’ll go away. what about me? did i make you feel good?”

“of course jay!” you exclaim as you wrap one arm around him, “there isn’t a single moment when you don’t make me feel good.”

jay blushes at that remark and leans in for a hug, “i love you miss domme. i love you with all my heart. every day, i am so grateful and blessed to be married to a woman like you. i can’t stress this enough. you are my everything.”

“awe jay, you’re so cute when you get all mushy after getting all fucked out,” you giggle, “you’re the sweetest husband ever and every day I am grateful to be married to a man like you. you’re a kind, selfless, protective gentleman who has done so much for me. now let’s get cleaned up shall we?”

you grabbed the two water bottles and chocolate chip granola bars on the nightstand.

“here, have some water and have a granola bar or two. need to ensure we both stay hydrated and that none of us get dizzy.”

you two take a moment to sip some water and briefly snack. you two were gonna massage each other but decided to reserve that for the next morning when both of you are more well-rested. you head to the edge of the bed and slip off your tippy tops to head to the bathroom with him to wipe each other with warm towels, pee, remove your makeup, and then head off into a cozy, cuddly, good night’s sleep! 🥰

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enha smut #enha hard hours #jay smut #jongseong smut #enhypen imagines #sub!enhypen #dom!reader #sub enhypen #dom reader

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mybiasisexo · 3 months

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First Word 🍼

Genre: Fluff | slight angst | Dad!au Pairing: Baekhyun x f.Reader Length: 827 Warnings: babies and tears

anon asks: baekhyun with 1 and 24 pleasee c:

a/n: my first drabble in years 😵‍💫. please be nice 🥺 also this is what i was curious if yall liked babies or not, but we all grown here right? personally i dont even like babies!!! but bbh was whispering this in my ear 🙄, what was i gonna say? no?!??

DRABBLE GAME | MASTERLIST

credit

Your daughter was your pride and joy—your life. She turned one a couple weeks ago, and it was a joyous, yet surreal moment for you and your dear husband, Baekhyun. It felt like time was going by so fast, that your baby girl was growing up too quickly. Already you missed her toothless smile and the restless nights.

You were in your room when you heard it. Baekhyun was putting the little one down for bed and you had the baby monitor on. You couldn’t help but smile as you listened to Baekhyun coo at your baby girl, hearing her infectious giggles. They were your little family, and you felt so blessed in this moment.

“Dada.”

The house grew silent. Your heart plummeted as you heard your daughter say her first word.

“What did you just say?” Baekhyun’s shocked voice came through the monitor. It raised higher with his growing excitement. “Did you just say ‘dada’?!”

“Dada dada dada!” She chanted, giggling all the while.

“That’s right! I’m your dada! I’m your dada and I love you oh so mu--”

You turned the monitor off.

You felt like you were going to be sick. You knew this reaction was kind of dramatic, but it hurt. You wanted it to be you, your daughter’s first words. You were hoping it would be you. As cute as the moment was, you just couldn’t find it in yourself to be happy with them.

It was a bit later when Baekhyun came barging in, having finally put baby to sleep.

“You won’t believe it!” He said, smiling from ear to ear, practically jumping with elation.

“Pumpkin said her first word! And it was ‘Dada’! She said my name!”

“Congratulations,” you said, voice void of any emotion.

He noticed that and deflated instantly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You turned your head away from him when tears began obscuring your vision.

You missed the way his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you…upset?”

You shook your head in answer, unable to speak without bursting into tears. When it came to your precious baby girl, you were a blubbering mess, and something this huge had you absolutely distraught. You felt like you were going crazy, but that didn’t stop you from reacting this way.

You were trying your best not to show just how affected you were, but you sucked in a shaky breath that made it all too obvious what you were doing.

“Are you crying?” He questioned incredulously.

You couldn’t hold it back any longer. You burst into tears, full on sobbing. Baekhyun took in your wailing form in utter shock, not expecting this reaction to his news.

“I just…really…wanted her to say…my name…first,” you revealed between sobs.

“It’s not a competition,” he said soothingly. “She might have said ‘dada’ first, but—”

Just hearing him say it again made you wail harder.

“For God’s sake, stop crying,” he groaned. It came off as irritated, but you heard the distress in his voice. He hated when you cried.

“I can’t help it,” you whimpered. “Our baby doesn’t love me.”

Baekhyun sighed before joining you on the bed, pulling you into him so that you’re crying on his chest. You didn’t fight him, letting him comfort you. He tucked your head under his chin and rubbed your back.

“Just because Pumpkin said my name first, doesn’t mean she loves you any less. She’ll be saying mama in no time, so there’s no need to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, you’re jealous,” you wailed, elbowing him in the stomach. He chuckled from the action, but grew serious quickly.

“Will you stop crying, please? You’ll make me cry.”

You could already hear the tears in his own voice, and that made you feel guilty.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, finally calming down. You pulled away from him, taking in his red rimmed eyes. “I ruined this moment for you.”

He shook his head. “No, your reaction is valid. I would’ve been disappointed too, if the roles were reversed.”

You sniffed and Baekhyun cupped your face, wiping your river of tears. Once cleaned off, he pressed a loving kiss onto your forehead, and then your nose, and then a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” he said simply.

“I love you too,” you replied and then kissed him again. “Let’s go to bed, ‘Dada’.”

He grinned at that, nothing but pure happiness and love shining in his eyes. “It’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“It’s perfect,” you told him as you both got comfortable under the blankets.

It’s peacefully quiet for a moment before Baekhyun murmured, “you’ve been acting kind of sensitive lately. You don’t think you might be pregnant again, do you?”

You groaned at the thought. “God, I hope not.”

You could feel the pout on his little lips. “Why not? Pumpkin needs a sibling.”

“Good night, Baekhyun!”

You rolled over in bed, ignoring the way he whined when you did.

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tinyfantasminha · 1 year

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NO NONONONONONNONO HES SO#$z$cz$c%z$%c$zc#34#$!!!!!!!!! AINT NO WAY

SAVANACLAW MANGA SPOILERS BELOW

IM SHAKING SOSOOSO HARD OHMYGOD LOOK AT HIS FACE LOOK AT HIS PERKED UP EARS HES SO FUCKINGG CUTE OHMYGOD THIS CANT BE REAL

THE CLOSE ON HIS FAAAAAACE WHATBYG THE HHELL HES SO BEAUTIFULLLL MY FUCKCING HUSBAND MY LITTLE WOOF WOOF MY SCRUNKLY MY SUGAR BOO MY WITTLE PUMPKIN MY WOOBA SHOOBA

INCREDIBLE. AMAZING. THE FOCUS ON HIS FLUFFY TAIL AND HIS EARS.

HIS BODY, CHISELED OUT OF IVORY, CARVED BY THE BEST OF ANCIENT GREEK ARTISTS, TO DISPLAY TO THE WORLD THE PERFECTION OF THE MALE ANATOMY. MY EYES ARE BLINDED

THIS CLOSE ON HIM. ITS SO.... ITS SO HIM. THE RESOLVE AND DOUBT ON HIS EYES OHYMYGMFFDD

HE GOT ME ACTING SOOOO UNWISE, NO RATIONAL THOUGHTS LEFT, JUST HIM. HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#twst spoilers #twst manga #jack howl #THROWING MYSELF IN A BLENDER AND MAKING SMOOTHIE OUT OF ME I CANT DO THIS #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHGHJG HES SO HANDSOME #I NEED TO BE CRADLED LIKE A NEWBORN BABY IN HIS BEEFY ARMS RN OR ELSE I DIE #rotting

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ky-tumbles · 2 years

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Navigating - Bradley Bradshaw (1)

pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6

Your heart is beating fast. You take a deep breath and sit down at the bar. You sneak a glance at your husband in the corner and he gives you a nod.

While he objects to even speaking to the man you’ve sat beside, you can’t help yourself. He is part of the reason you're here.

“Hi, dad.” You manage to squeak out, causing the man to tense.

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell hasn’t had many surprises in his life, but hearing your voice for the first time in forever definitely makes the list.

“Hi, pumpkin,” he mumbles, eyes not leaving his beer bottle. His grip had tightened on it the moment you spoke, his fingers trying to ease the tension wave that’s rolled over him by peeling the label off. “What are you doing here?”

“Ice called me, said you’d be here,” you try to make eye contact with your father but he refuses. He’s gone considerably pale since you sat down.

“I’m assuming he’s here too,” Maverick states, finally breaking his focus to look behind you both where he spots your husband still keeping watch dutifully. “You two always were attached at the hip. I’m glad you’ve got someone to watch your back.”

“He’s my wingman,” you tease playfully. Your dad finally looks up at you and cracks a smile. Your eyes start to tear up.

“Oh shit, please don’t cry, sweetheart.” Maverick frantically searches the bar in front of him for a napkin.

“I’m sorry, it’s the hormones,” you wipe a tear from your eye. Maverick’s eye widen frantically as he finally looks you up and down, noticing the prominent bump of your midsection.

His jaw drops and he turns to look at Bradley. One of your hands falls to you belly to reassure yourself as you too peak over your shoulder at your husband.

“We missed you at the wedding,” you say quietly, holding out your ring for your dad to see.

“I didn’t think he’d want me there,” Your dad mumbles, eyes back on his beer.

“It was my wedding too. I wanted my dad to walk me down the aisle.” Damn hormones, you’re tearing up again.

“You said Iceman called you?” In changing the subject, your father looks around to the group of pilots around where your husband stands. He’s trying to count them, hoping, praying, begging you’re not part of this mission.

“Brad has special permission to bring me along. I’m strictly working ground control.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at your dad. He wasn’t around a lot and here he is trying to act the dad when you don’t need it.

You push yourself up from the bar, “It was nice to see you, dad.”

He only nods in response as you begin to move away.

“We’re having a boy, by the way.” You turn and announce before heading to your friends without looking back.

“Congrats grandpa,” Penny teases from behind the bar, sliding Maverick another beer.

He’s silent as he’s accepts it.

Rooster is waiting for you to return, while it may not be the kind of mission he’s used to running, he can still feel the stress of emotion you’re experiencing.

His arms wrap around your body and pull you into his side before you even know it. He’s quick to press a kiss to your forehead.

“How’d it go?” He mumbles quietly against your temple.

You shake your head, silently telling him you give him the mission report later. He obliges and asks no further questions, leading you towards your friends.

Phoenix shrieks excitedly when she sees you. She pulls you away from Bradley and into her arms.

“Oh my gosh, look at you!” The adoration in her voice has you smiling against her. “You are absolutely glowing mama!”

“Isn’t she though?” Bradley muses, letting himself shamelessly admire you in front of your friends.

“Well, well, well, so this is why the famous Pumpkin won’t be flying with us,” The level condescension that graces your ears can only belong to one person, you turn and sure enough there he is.

“Hangman,” you roll your eyes, stepping back into Rooster’s embrace. Brad pulls you closer, hand spreading over your bump.

“So that’s one less person to compete with.” Hangman smirks, causing everyone else to roll their eyes. The cockiness that rolls off that man would make a civilian gag, unfortunately, you were used to it.

“You’re just afraid she’d beat you out for top spot,” Rooster counters, fingers rubbing circles in your skin. His touch causes your baby to move excitedly, kicking the spot his dad touches.

Phoenix jumps in to back him up, and the group descends into a very heated discussion about who would beat who. You’re not paying attention though, Bradley takes the silence as his cue to slip you towards the piano, his hand in yours. He presses a kiss against your palm before he sits at the piano bench.

You lean against the piano, admiring the way his fingers grace the keys as he warms up.

“What do you want to hear, baby?” He questions, lips pursed as he takes you in.

“Will you play our song?” Your hand reaches out to rest against his shoulder, he takes the opportunity to pull you into his lap as he begins.

Your father watches from the bar in silence, he feels as if he’s gone back in time. Penny smiles sadly, watching as the older pilot gets up and leaves.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw imagine

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darkdarkstucky · 1 year

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Enchanted, S. Rogers and C. Kent.

Summary: In a world where Omega's were scant and decent alpha's even more so, you think you're one in a million to be in a relationship with Alpha's who not only take care of your every whims and need, but also love and respect you unconditionally. However, your marital bliss of two years is interrupted by the concept of ‘true mates’.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Clark Kent, Soft!Dark Clark x Reader, Soft!Dark Steve x Reader.

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Sexual Themes, Polyandry, M/F/M, Angst, Mentions of violence, Alpha x Omega, Ruts and Heats, Threesomes, Oral (F and M recieving), Eventual Soft!dark themes, Manipulation, Breeding Kink, DDLG themes, Graphic depictions of violence, Dark Themes.

A/N; Back with another WIP. Whoopdeedoo✨🫶 this was a lil fun something i wrote to overcome a really bad slump🥹 anyways!! say hi if you're here frens!! UNEDITED READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

“Clark? Honey?” You call out to your husband who, seemed lost to the rest of the world as his eyes sought the words to whatever paperwork he was reading. Noting down the uncanny disarray of his home office, the strange feeling of unrest settled in the pit of your stomach once more.

There were piles of papers scattered aimlessly on his mahoganny desk, his recieving chairs were skewed at an angle you knew he'd find unsettling, and his coat aswell as a few trinkets were laying waste on the carpet altogether.

It was unlike Clark to let himself spiral into a such a state of disorder. If you knew anything, about your endearing husband; he had a severe case of OCD. Everything must have their own place, every nook and cranny accounted for and it reflected on his everyday life. His tailor made suits were always neatly pressed, his tie the perfect knot, his appearance was always put together and smart in fashion. There was nothing that could be flawed about Clark Kent; he was composed, as he was equally accomplished in his everyday life

But for the past few days, perhaps weeks now, you've noticed the nuances and shift in his demeanor. It was present in gaze, the way he spoke to you; as if he was evasive, guilty almost, but you didn't want to venture into that kind of thinking because your heart had hurt too much at the thought of one of your mates betraying you in such manner.

Clark and Steve would never hurt you in any way. The fact in itself was cemented into your very soul, because all throughout your three years of togetherness— two in marriage, they've bonded you to them in any way they could. Through the marks. Through paper. And most importantly; with their love and devotion.

For as long as you could remember, they have tirelessly and endlessly wooed you. There was not a single day that passed that you never felt special, what with their promise to court you and love you forever. And you've never doubted your husband, and you won't start to. Not when they have never given you any reason to.

“Honey?” You knocked on his door in order to get his attention, that seemingly effective, as he raised his head to look towards you.

“Sweetheart?” Clark was startled he failed to hear you or sense your presence, until you were all he could pay attention to. Your scent, the most beautiful fusion of pumpkin and vanilla, calmed his racing thoughts. His eyes raked over your form in a slow descent, admiration clear in his eyes, but his brows furrowed perceptively at your lack of footwear. “The floor is cold, come here.” He beckons with a slight reprimand to his tone.

Slowly, you walked towards him, rubbing your eyes to rid of any residual sleep. Within arms length, he pulled you down to his lap, arms instinctively wrapping around your smaller frame and pulling you to his chest. Nuzzling into his neck, you let out a satisfied chirp as you were flooded with the enticing scent of your alpha.

“I woke up and you were gone,” You murmur against his neck, voice tinged with sadness. Perhaps you had been spoiled with too much affection that you had become increasingly reliant on their presence— Now, due to the nature of their work and constant travelling, both Clark and Steve had made it so, one or the other if not both should always be with you. This notion was followed to a T which satisfied all parties involved, so you were quite sensitive when it wasn't.

“I know, i'm sorry sweetheart.” Clark coaxed you gently, his voice no louder than a whisper that tickled your ears. “I had a few paperworks that i final review before i sign on it,”

“Can i stay with you?” You bit your lower lip anxiously and stared at him through your lashes. “I'll behave. I just really missed you.” your voice was soft and pliant as you pleaded.

Clark felt the lump in his throat again. The feelings he was repressing all coming down in a defeaning crash onto him. He was confronted with the fact of his neglect towards you with the days past. Clark knows that you may be growing suspicious, and for good reason, yet not one he was strong enough to admit yet. He wanted to say it. To blurt it out, but to admit it out loud would shatter all of his formerly built pretense. Instead, he hugged you tighter, hopefully translating all his love and affection towards it.

“I love you so much, tesoro.” He utters with conviction, “More than my own life.” you felt his head dip, and your foreheads touch. You were suddenly awashed with various emotions, and you swallowed down the questions you wanted to ask.

Although the confession was abrupt, it didn't stop you from echoing the sentiment. “I love you more.” you whisper. “more than my own life.” you repeated.

His grip on you tightened, if possible. As if he was holding onto you for dear life, to which you tried to ease him with gentle touches and tender caress all over his body. You pressed butterfly kisses all over the side of his face, whispering words of assurance to your husband.

“Everything will be alright, my love.”

Clark desperately wanted it to be true.

•••

The next morning, you woke up alone. There was no sign of Clark, as you approached the first floor after showering and getting dressed. Only the staff were present bustling around to do their respective duties.

“When did Clark leave?” You asked the housekeeper.

“At around five, ma'am.” She answers, and you thanked her before heading towards the dining.

As you sat, you were immediately served with breakfast, but you lacked the appetite to even pick up your spoon. Just thinking about your husband's strange behavior had your mind in a talispin, listing out possibilities of what you could have done; was it something you had done? were they disappointed with you? what if they had finally had it with your inability to—

“Hey, doll face!” Natasha barged into the room, successfully interrupting your thoughts. “Mind if i have breakfast with you? Bucky's gone and i'm too lazy to cook for myself.” Before you could answer, she plopped down to a seat and was served with cutlery much like you were.

Her morning visits were as frequent as could be which is why the staff were always quick. More often than not, anyways, it was Natasha you had breakfast with, due to her living close by and her husband Bucky being Steve's bestfriend and work associate. Needless to say, Natasha frequented your estate, and you were as closest to a friend as you could be.

“Hey, doll face.” She tilts her head, “Call me a bitch, but i think you look evidently upset over something.”

“I'm fine, nat. And please, lay off with the crude vocabulary at such an early day.” you reply amusedly, trying to play it off.

“It's okay, i'm insured.” She whips out a few dollar bills and left it at the table, the action was almost like a second nature to her seeing as she was a regular patron at the curse jar. “But you, my dear, seem awfully upset over something. What is it? What is a problem, that your overbearing husbands can't fix? You know you just blink wrong and Rogers and Kent would break the bones of some unassuming bastard.” She wiggles her eyebrows inriguingly.

You couldn't help but shake your head, contemplating for a moment wether you should tell another soul; a close one to both you and your husband about what your sneaking suspicion.

What if she thought you were just paranoid? Or laugh in your face? Or instead—

“Hey,” Nat calls out to you softly. “You don't have to tell me, immedieately. Or at all. But i'm here, and available if you feel like sharing.” she assures you, sincerity dripping from her tone while you visibly deflate.

“It's gonna sound stupid.” you sigh. “b-but.. but i think they're hiding something.”

“who?” the confusion was geniune.

“Steve and Clark.” you utter once you find your voice again, reaching for the glass of water once you felt your mouth go dry at finally saying it out loud.

“Why do you think so?” she asks carefully.

“Maybe i'm sensitive..” trailing off you looked down at your lap, “but i, i just feel it, nat. The way they speak to me, neither of them can barely maintain proper eye contact for more than a minute. They're very brief, almost cryptic when they talk. They're always out, and we barely see eachother— it terrifies me.” blinking away the tears, you look up.

“Oh darling,” She hushes, pulling you into a hug while you choked on a sob.

“I'm so scared Nat.” you whimper, tucking your chin into her shoulder. “'m so scared i'm gonna lose my alphas.”

“I know for certain that's never going to happen, dollface.” natasha says earnestly, while you let the tears flow.

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beenjen · 6 months

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This month has been INSANE. We started with the week in Florida for the yearly sojourn with my mom’s youngest brother and his family - my aunt, their 2 kids, their kids and spouses. I shared some of that trip a few weeks back, perfect weather all the way.

Then we came home to celebrate Lils 5th -

The next week we had Jamis’ diorama due over his book report book. Stick dog gets the tacos -

The next weekend we packed up and headed to the Appalachian mountains for a camping trip - which was bliss -

This past week, I wrote about the loss of my aunt and the funeral proceedings. Which, let me just say, during that experience, one of my cousins shared during the service, about her husband not being the husband she wanted, isn’t as capable as her own father, nor as nice as his own father (I am not lying), and culminated in her sister letting her 2 year old fall INTO the grave. INTO THE GRAVE. I don’t even have the bandwidth to process all that was this latest.

We had a Halloween movie night Friday, Saturday an annual pumpkin carving party. Back to school tomorrow then Tuesday is trick or treating -

I’m ready for November.

Outside of that, C and I are plugging along. The kids are hanging in there. Planning an overnight trip to Mammoth Cave over Veterans Day weekend - hope to get one last camp in.

🏕️ xx

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brett-is-afraid · 2 years

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Schlatt: I'm the man of this house, Alex. I work hard every day to provide for this family. And as the man of the house, I command you to give me permission to go out today.

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 6 months

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Last Updated: 2023-10-23

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Leonard McCoy stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

❧ Foliage Fiancé by imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎

Summary: "[You're] upset... [you have] missed so much of the fall season while on the Enterprise, so Leonard goes to extreme measures to make [you] happy."

❧ Halloween Party by imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎

Summary: Finally back on Earth, you decide to throw a Halloween party to which your husband, Leonard, begrudgingly agrees.

❧ It's the Great Pumpkin, Leonard McCoy ⧫ by pendragonfics▪︎〔F᜶C〕▪︎

Summary: "Four times [you decorated] Medbay for her favourite celebration, Halloween."

❧ Apple Bobbing by imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎𑁍▪︎

❧ Fairytale by imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎

❧ Flannel Shirt by imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul▪︎〔E᜶F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎

❧ Haunted House by imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul▪︎〔F᜶C〕▪︎♥︎▪︎

❧ It's Cold Outside by marvelouslytrekking▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎

❧ Keeping Warm by marvelouslytrekking▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎𑁍▪︎

❧ Raking Leaves by marvelouslytrekking▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎

See Also: Navigation | Leonard McCoy Master Index

Authors: @imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul | @marvelouslytrekking | @pendragonfics |

#Leonard McCoy x Reader #Leonard McCoy x Y/N #Leonard McCoy x You #Dr. McCoy x Reader #Dr. McCoy x Y/N #Dr. McCoy x You #Karl Urban x Reader #Karl Urban x Y/N #Karl Urban x You #Star Trek Fanfiction #Star Trek Fanfic

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littlemoondarlingarts · 2 months

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I'm still working on the watercolor painting dw!! But have some loving Ezra and his husband for Valentine's day (funny thing is I'm posting this after valentine's where I live lol)

Some rambles under the cut bc I'm lowkey starting to love this idea lol

Uhm so in the first one, Ezra is having some sort of flu and is STRUGGLING his Husband has just came home from work and brought some delicious and nutritious lemonade for the both of them (vitamin C is important when sick!!) And he also got his sweetheart some snackies. Ezra on the other hand is too delirious to understand anything, all that he knows is that Pumpkin (the cat) is very fluffy and that his husband is very waaarm and comfortable.

More random thoughts ab the drawing, I love the husband's tattoo, it was one of the first things he did when he finally had bodily autonomy, also I really appreciate Ezra's crazy cat lady socks, very on brand.

The second drawing is much later, with Ezra being in his mid to late 40s there, it's just supposed to show a small romantic gesture between the two, something that means alot to them but they don't even realise it.

More random thoughts, I love the difference in styles between them, with Ezra leaning more towards dark academia and his husband wearing whatever the fuck isn't in the laundry at the moment, the pants aren't old, the patches are a fashion statement, each one being from some outfit he had to throw away for one reason or another. I struggled with Ezra's face on this one but it ended up looking better than I expected, the amount of adoration and love in his eyes is just 👌🏻👌🏻

#my art #art #artists on tumblr #oc #my oc #pencil sketch #oc art #oc artist #oc artwork #Ezra Woodburn #Ezra's husband #he'll get a better tag eventually #romance #romantic art #valentines day #valentines day art

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hoshigray · 1 month

Note

serena x gojo smut where he comes back from a business trip and he misses me so much that he fucks me till my clit hangs down like a dick!

𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 | gojō satoru

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sorry for the waittttt hope i did good w/ this !!!

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x serena - explicit contents; minors DNI - Gojo is serena's hubby - fingering (f! receiving) oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play - biting/nibbling - multiple orgasms - breast fondling + nipple play + sucking - boobjob (m! receiving) - overstimulation - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, pumpkin, sweetie) - gojo being pussy-whipped for serena c:

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.8k

"Serenaaaa~," Gojo calls to her from the front door. "I'm finally home; did ya miss meee?"

Serena perks from the couch to see that her husband is, in fact, home from his business trip; showing his big smile with dimples that shine brighter than the sun. She beams back at him while running straight for him, "Baby!"

He brings them in for a tight hug, happily nestling his face into the crook of her neck while placing feverish kisses. "Ahhh, you have no idea how much I missed you, pumpkin! Couldn't even enjoy myself overseas being so far from you..."

SIKE!! YOU THOUGHT!!

HOW ABOUT SENDING ME A REAL REQUEST, DUMBASS!?

#i hope you liked it serenaaaa ♡#🤧🩵🩵#𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒆 *ੈ✩‧₊˚ serena #𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ⚛ 𝑨𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒄 𝑨𝒔𝒌𝒔

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dangerousstrawberryshark · 2 years

Text

Drunk in Love.

A/n: Hello, my 🍓Little Strawberries🍓! I tried my best to do this. Sorry if there are any mistakes discovered. I want to thank everyone on my discord server and the requester for helping me!

DISCLAIMERS: Remember, this is fiction! I mean no offense, harm, or disrespect to any of these celebrities. Minors DNI and Women aligned readers, you can read but do not fetishize it! I’m close to banning it.

Requested?: Yes or no?

Pairings: Chris Evans x Ftm reader

Rating: Fluff/smut

Warnings: oral sex (reader receiving), vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, passionate sex, penis in vagina, and transphobic comments. It mentioned that the reader gave birth. (You can pretend that the child is adopted.)

Word Count: 1656

Summary: You and your husband, Chris Evans, are drunk in love with each other. Chris treats you to the best day.

You and Chris were sleeping peacefully in bed. You cradled a pillow close to your chest while Chris held you closer to him. His body gave off a sense of comfort and protection. The sun beamed through the curtains causing you to stir.

You groaned in discomfort from the bright light shining. Chris felt some movement as you snuggled into his neck. He smiled internally. However, your sleep was interrupted.

“Daddy! Papa!” A child’s voice screamed as they opened the door and jumped onto the bed. Both you and Chris groaned as the child continued jumping on the bed.

“Time to wake up!” they said, still jumping but eventually getting tired. Chris yawned and stretched his muscles. You then pulled (C/n) onto your lap.

“You’re up early. This never happens… must be a miracle.” You said, rubbing your eyes, getting the dried crust out. The bed creaked as Chris got up and went to the bathroom.

C/n giggled before reminding you what today was. “Today is my first day!” They said, getting up and running back to their room. Then it clicked. It was their first day at kindergarten. You quickly got out of bed.

“Chris!” you yelled, opening the door to see Chris brushing his teeth while still in his briefs. “What is wrong, pumpkin?” he asked, spitting out the paste.

“It's C/n's first day at kindergarten!” you said, Chris’s eyes widened as he hurried up to get ready. You did the same. You couldn’t believe how fast they were growing. It felt like yesterday when you gave birth to them. (Or, it felt like yesterday when you and Chris were approved to adopt them.)

You went downstairs to see Chris cooking some breakfast and C/n dressed and eating. “Are you ready for your first day?” they nodded their head, somewhat excited and nervous. Chris handed you a plate of food.

“Thank you, honey.” you smiled at him, kissing him. You joined C/n at the table along with Chris. After breakfast was over, all three of you went to Chris’s car. Driving to the elementary school, c/n would be attending.

(Time skip)

After dropping off C/n, you and Chris decide to lay down in bed again. The soft mattress sinks as it takes both your weight. “I can’t believe they are already in kindergarten…” you said, turning to your side.

“Soon, they’ll be graduating high school.” Chris chimed in, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. You sighed as the heat radiating from him offered comfort.

With nothing better to do, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through social media. Watched videos while Chris played with your hair and nuzzled his head into your nape. Nothing happened until a notification from Twitter popped on your screen.

“Chris Evans and Y/n Evans child attend their first day of kindergarten.” it was something like that. You didn’t understand why people couldn’t mind their own business. You hoped C/n wasn't crowded with people, knowing that their father is Chris Evans.

You scrolled down to read some of the comments. Some of them were good until you reached the horrible ones.

Fuckgender_Equality: She. Not him. She will never be a man.

50 comments. 2 retweets. 10 likes.

LGBAlliance: God, why would THE Chris Evans date such a person? A fake person.

60 comments. 5 retweets. 15 likes.

John80362926491: There is no match between those two. Chris deserves a person who is not pretending.

55 comments. 4 retweets. 6 likes.

All of the comments were swimming in your head. The bad thoughts you locked away were suddenly coming back to you. The comments combined with the locked away thoughts made cried and self-conscious.

You got up from bed and walked to the bathroom in a hurry, leaving Chris alone. Confused.

The voices came back. ‘You’ll never be a man. No matter how much you do to change yourself, you’ll never be a man. Just accept that you are a woman.’ The voice kept taunting you, even though you tried blocking them.

‘You’re ugly and fat. How Chris ever loved you is beyond me. Surprised he didn’t cheat on you already.’

Chris was confused as to why you got up in a hurry. He noticed you left your phone and wanted to see what you were looking at. Once he saw the comments, he immediately ran to the bathroom to see you crying.

‘Oh no.’

“Y/n?” Chris called out to you. He didn’t get a response.

You cried more as Chris walked. You could hear him calling you, but his voice was overshadowed by the voice. Suddenly, he turns you around to face you.

“Y/n, don’t listen to them. They only see the scars while I see the truth. The truth of you being the most handsome man that I have ever seen. I love you, Y/n. My husband, my soulmate.” Chris said, lifting your head and pressing his lips against yours.

Just like before, Chris was able to seal the voice. You melted into the kiss, his fuzzy beard rubbing against your chin as he pulled you closer. Letting out muffled moans as the kiss went into a make-out session.

(This is the smut part of the fic. If you aren’t comfortable with reading then do not proceed.)

As things get intense, Chris lifts and carries you to the bed, laying you down gently. You both pulled back to breathe. His eyes were filled with love and lust.

Chris hastily removed all of your clothing, leaving you exposed to his eyes. “You have an amazing boy, Y/n,” Chris said, getting in between your legs. You bite your bottom lip as Chris kisses and bite your thighs.

“Are you ready, pumpkin?” Chris said, wanting your confirmation, and you gave it to him. He immediately swallowed your dick. Your eyes roll back, moans escaping your mouth.

Your hands run through his soft brown hair, pushing his head deeper. Chris removes his mouth and begins swiping his tongue down your center. Licking up your wetness. Chris groans at the taste.

Chris could sense your climax as your grip on his hair tightens and your arching back. He quickly pulls away, licking his lips. He then removed his clothing until his briefs remained.

You whimpered at the size as he removed them. He was 6 inches and had nice thickness to the thing. “I need to prep you before moving forward.” Chris said, lubbing two fingers and pushing them inside you.

His thick fingers moved deeper inside you, stretching your hole to make it easier and less painful. Your moans and whimpers made Chris harder as he thrusts his fingers. “I think you’re ready, pumpkin.”

Chris pours a generous amount of lube on his cock, stroking it to make sure it's covered in the stuff. You feel him press his head against your opening. “Tell me to stop if I’m hurting you, okay?” you nodded your head.

He slowly pushed his cock. Groans and grunts as you clamp down around him. He continues to push deeper inside, making you arch your back and gripping the sheets. A shiver ran down your spine as he was now balls deep.

“Just give me a second…” you took deep breaths and closed your eyes to calm down. Chris leans down and kisses forehead before moving to your neck. He groans as your velvet walls tighten around him.

“Are you ready, my prince?” You smiled and nodded. He nodded and placed his hands on either side of your hips, slowly pulled out and pushed back in slowly. Both of you and Chris moan. He kept going slowly before speeding up.

Chris’s thrusts were precise, hitting all the right spots. “Oh, Chris,” you whined, head pushing against the mattress and hands gripping the sheets. He lets out a low growl as he fucked you faster and harder.

He throws his head back, eyes closing as he could hear the squelching noise that came from your hole along with your noises.

You reached down and began to rub your cock with Chris’s thrusts. Your hole clenching and pulsing around your husband’s cock. Both of your orgasms weren’t far behind. Chris could feel himself about to come.

“I-I’m about to cum…” Chris grunted as he gripped your hips. You bite your bottom lip. “Me too…” you are panting, hair sticking to your forehead.

After a few more thrusts, you came without a warning. Euphoria rushing through your veins, the world turning white. At the same time, Chris orgasmed after feeling your walls spasm around him.

Both you and him were covered in sweat and panting for air. He slowly pulls out and lays next to you. “I love you, Y/n. I will always love you.” you smiled and nuzzled into his neck.

“I love you too, Chris.”

THE END. A/N: I hope this fic was good and the smut part! The next few requests will be a headcanon, like the one I made! Anyways, bye, my 🍓Little Strawberries🍓

TAGS: @spnfanboy777 @meyocoko @buckyshusband0 @mack-thedork @sluttyhusband @wolf-knights @chrisevansxmalereader @zamfam4272 @blurredx18 @ghostking4m @maxxioislost @hexwriter

#x ftm reader #ftm reader #ftm reader imagine #ftm reader smut #chris evans fluff #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine #x trans male reader #trans male reader #trans male reader smut #trans male reader imagine #Chris evans x ftm reader #chris evans x trans male reader #sorry for any errors #sorry if its bad #smut #chris evans x reader

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