#and it may seems like he may just eat them but instead he wants to show them his treasures because pirates like treasure right? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohbother2 · 3 months

Note

Hi! I don't know if you write for Adam, but this man has me in an unholy choke hold and I've literally read through all the Adam fics on this site already. I am begging, on my hands and knees, for you to please write an Adam x female reader smut oneshot. Literally anything you want.

I absolutely loved your Lucifer close proximity fic btw!! You're writing is literally insane and I just know you'd do Adam's character justice!

Thank youuuu

Thank you!! Sorry this is coming out so long after you sent it in, but hope you guys enjoy!

Also to other ppl reading this! I've seen your lovely messages in my inbox and I 100% intend on responding to them I'm just swamped with Uni work at the moment. But thank you all so much!!

This is literally pure smut btw, minors DNI!! Adam is very Adam in this. Lmk what you guys think I love to hear your thoughts! Especially because Adam is so hard to write!

Tag list - @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

Adam x f!reader - After a Shitty Meeting with the Blond Short-Stack

To put it bluntly, Adam had had a particularly shitty day, and that was saying a lot considering there were absolutely no bad days in heaven. This day, however, had seemed to drag on for an eternity, and by the end of it he felt like punching a whole through every window that he walked past on his way home from work, having to walk instead of fly because he was too furious to trust his wings not to give out on him if he became too lost in thought.

To summarise, he had had to meet Lucifer today, the pompous, prideful, wife-stealing piece of short-blonde-shit that lorded about Hell as if he wasn’t banished there purposefully for his sins. The meeting wasn’t in person, with him attending from Heaven and Lucifer attending from Hell, but simply being within any sort of presence of the blond gnome had his blood boiling and his fingers itching to grab the nearest weapon and shove it through his chest. And today, well, Lucifer had gone too far.

Sure, Adam may have started it with some comment about Lucifer’s daughters failing redemption-business, and how the timer was ticking until the upcoming extermination, but really, who was Lucifer to dare let your name spill from his lips? In a mockery of your and Adam’s relationship no less.

That self-entitled little shit-eating smirk had graced Lucifer’s ridiculously rosy cheeks, and he had dared insinuate he could steal you right from under Adam’s nose the next time you went down to Hell, just like his two previous wives. He was thankful for his mask which had concealed the utter shock-horror that had overtaken his features at the insult, but he also wished Lucifer would have seen his absolute unbridled hatred once he had rebounded from the insult: if looks could have killed, Lucifer would have been incinerated on the spot. The comment had riled Adam up so much that Lute had had to step in to steer the meeting back on track, and it had taken all of his self-control, and Lute’s, to stop him from immediately teleporting down to Hell and blasting Lucifer to whatever the fuck came after Hell. He grumbles to himself angrily, hand rubbing at his temples as he finally reaches his front door. God, he just wanted to have a drink and go to bed, where hopefully he would dream about murdering Lucifer and lording it up with you above his grave. Maybe you guys could make out right next to his grave, that would really prove a point.

He slams the front door shut harsher than he should have, and immediately storms through the house, desperate to just see you in one of the rooms – he’d even break into the bathroom even if you were mid-shit if he had to, he just had to see you.

“Babe?” He calls, wings tucked tightly against his back as he prowls the corridor, poking his masked head into each room he came across, finally relaxing when he saw you relaxing with a book curled up in the loveseat in the living room.

“Adam!” You grin over at him, and the tension in his shoulders shifts at the sight, releasing a tight breath as you perk up as he approaches, tucking your bookmark back into place and waiting for him expectantly. Of course you would be here, he reprimands himself, furious that Lucifer could get to him in such a way; where else would you be? “How was your day? You had that meeting right? Did it go well?” You rapid-fire your questions, and you suddenly frown as he approaches. “You’ve still got your mask on, it didn’t go well.”

“Yes, hello sugar, it’s nice to see you too, damn.” He mutters, frustrated at himself for being so easy to read, and frustrated at you for reading him so easily, finally coming to a stop before you. “Can’t a man just wear his cool-ass mask? I just forgot, okay?”

“You can do anything you please, I’m just worried.” You look up at him sympathetically, and he immediately knew his tough-guy act was immediately lost on you. Who was he kidding? Today had been particularly shit, and he just wanted to be with you. Not to ease his worries, no, no, he was secure in his relationship, confident in his charm (he was fucking Adam, who could compare?) but just… because he wanted to be with you.

He wasn’t even convincing himself.

“Want to talk about it?” You ask softly, watching as he tugs the mask from his face and places it against the coffee table. His hair was a mess, and you could see the way his brows pinched into a light frown as he attempted to hide his frustration.

“Fuck no.” He shakes his head. “You’re right, the meeting went shitty. That pompous little prick-“ He cuts himself off, pursing his lips lightly as he stares down at you. He didn’t want to tell you what Lucifer had said. He knew you wouldn’t suddenly act on what he had said, but still, he daren’t even breathe the possibility into existence. “I just want to be home, with you.”

“I think I can help with that.” You grin, shuffling over on the love seat and staring up at him expectantly, an absolutely lovely smile on your rosy lips.

"What would I do without you?" Adam questions, sitting down next to you heavily and leaning in for a proper kiss. One of his large hands falls to your waist as he leans in closer, your back leaning against the arm of the armrest as he approaches, slender fingers weaving into the locks at the nape of his neck to hold him closer. He pulls away for a moment, pressing heavy kisses against your jawline, eyes closed to the world and enjoying the feeling of your fingertips against the nape of his neck.

"Is there anything else I could help with?" You utter softly, head tilting back to expose your neck. A sudden grin takes over your features. You were about to play with fire, but you couldn't help yourself. "Perhaps give Lucifer a talking to?"

"Why," he growls, pressing one last kiss beneath your ear before he pulls back, both hands falling to your twisted hips. "would you mention that old fucks name when I have my lips against you."

"Just trying to help." You bats your eyelashes playfully, a laugh escaping you at his furrowed expression.

"I seem to recall you saying 'anything I please' not only five minutes ago." He leans closer, a hand grasping the armrest you leant against, caging you in with a devilish grin. "This is how you can help. Distract me."

"Adam!" You mock, palms sliding up his biceps and resting against his chest as you lean further back, further from his lips. His eyes narrow in frustration. "I fear you have misunderstood-"

"You know exactly what you were doing, babe."

A flash of pearly white teeth as you laugh again, fingers pulling at his lapels to drag him closer. "I'm afraid I don't."

His lips cover yours as a hand slides beneath you, a hand grasping firmly at your ass as he sucks all air from your lungs, a moan rewarding his efforts. Adam moans as a hand tugs at his locks, pulling your waist closer as he bores down, a knee sliding up your skirt and forcing your legs to part, falling freely without encouragement. Your red silk skirt bunches up around your waist, guided by his hands to expose your milky thighs to the cool air. You gasp against him.

"You going to be good for me?" He mumbles against your lips, large hands guiding your hips, thigh rubbing at your heat through the thin layer of your underwear. "You going to be a good girl and distract me?"

You hum in response, vocalising your pleasure as his tongue slides into your mouth, not even bothering to put up a fight as Adam hungrily licks into your mouth, grip forcing your hips to shift against his own as you grasp at his biceps.

"You’re such a fucking tease." He moans between kisses to your skin, hands tugging fabric from your collarbone as he kisses lower. "If I wasn’t as generous, I’d make you do all the work tonight." He presses another deep kiss to your lips, caging you between his arms and nestling between your parted thighs. "Lucky for you I’m fucking pissed."

"Adam." You groan quietly, eyes fluttering as he licks his way down the column of your throat, teeth grazing your hot skin as he yanks your top down your shoulders. He doesn’t bother unhooking your bra, splitting it down the middle with a grin and ignoring your complaints with a harsh bite into the skin of your breast. Adam grins against your reddening skin as his free hand comes up to grip your other breast, rolling the bud tightly between his fingers as he sucks and bites around the swell of your breast. He groans at the feeling of your hands gripping his broad shoulders, fingers edging closer and closer to his wings, hips rolling forward and cock twitching in his garments. He delves forward, warm mouth wrapping around a pert nipple without warning, Adam pays you no mind when you gasp at a particularly hard nip, suckling hungrily as his left-hand travels lower to press your hips up and against him. Your head lolls back as he groans around your bud, thrusting his hips against your clothed core. He continues, on and on, until the pained groans turn into pleasured whines, your thighs quivering around his hips and hands carding through his locks.

He pulls away for air, pressing sloppy kisses along the wet skin at your chest. "Look at you, I’ve not even touched you and you’re whining like a bitch." He groans, pressing a kiss to the swollen nipple pinched between his fingers. "I know I’m good, but this is pitiful babe. Fucking desperate.”

You had half a mind to remind him that he was the one that had stormed into your living room and practically demanded you attention after a shitty day, but with his mouth against you and hands gripping your thighs like his life depended on it, you were happy to remain silent, breathing airily as he sucked harshly at your skin.

“I’d be a pretty shitty husband if I just left my wife like this, huh?"

“Adam-“ You go to warn at his mockingly coy tone, him having played this hard-to-get game before and leaving you wanting until it was actually you desperate for his touch, and not the other way around. This time, however, he didn’t have the patience for such games, your voice dying with a hitch of breath as he latches onto your other nipple, free hand travelling beneath your skirt to the damp spot growing against your underwear. He circles the damp fabric, feather-light and teasing, not yet touching the place you craved the most.

"Adam, baby," You breath heavily, chest heaving as he continues to lavish a pert nipple with his tongue, hands tugging at his robe and sliding down the smooth skin of his chest. "Adam, please."

With a harsh nip he unlatches from your chest, peering down at you with dark eyes, the gold barely glinting in the dim light of the room, breathing heavy. A smirk tugs at his lips, brunet locks falling in front of his eyes as you continue to work yourself against his thigh, wide eyes shining and whining pathetically.

"Please, what?" He shifts, clothed cock pressing harshly against your groin, rutting once, twice. "Fuck you? Make you feel good? Feel better than anyone else ever could?” He rolls his hips again, you whimper. "Or, please stop? Leave you in this state? Return to my duties?"

"No, no- please," your breath hitches as he bites at the soft mound of flesh below your right nipple, a trail of red and purple left behind as he nips lower. "Please, fuck me." Your hands finally dig into his wings, close to where they joined at his back, fingertips digging into the feathers and tugging lightly. You can feel the way his hands tighten either side of your ribcage, and you can see the way his pupils dilate as a red hue creeps up his neck and flushes the skin of his cheeks.

"Fuck," he moans, cock twitching in his breaches. His thumbs dig into your abdomen as his hands clench against your hips, stopping you from moving against him. God, this was exactly what he needed after this shitty day. You must have been some sort of Saint in disguise. "You fucking tease, fucking hands in my-“ He has to stop when you tug again, and he glowers down at you as your nails scratch their way down the centre of his golden wings, the tips twitching as he tries to remain in control.

“Oh yeah, baby? That's how you want to do this?" His voice had deepened to the familiar gravelling husk that you loved so dearly, and you can do nothing but nod fervently, the sound going straight to your core. You knew exactly what you were doing toying with his wings, and he knew just as well as you what that meant. Adam takes in the sight before him; the heaving chest, the perfect slender column of your exposed throat, the exposed milky-white of your spread thighs, the wide glossy eyes just pleading for him to move. He breathes deeply at the way your skirt bunches around your waist, your whole body on show except from a pathetic soaking pair of underwear. "Fucking perfect."

A rough hand suddenly against your throat has you falling boneless against the armrest, eyes rolling as Adam’s fist tightens, his wings twitching upwards as your hands fall to noncommittally pry at his fingers around your neck.

"Hng, please-" You rasp, spreading your legs as far as the backrest of the loveseat would allow, hands clenching into the fabric of the sofa beneath you.

"You'll get fucked," Adam whispers harshly against your ear, free hand sliding your ruined pants down your thighs. "but not until I'm done with you."

"Adam-"

"It’s been a fucking shitty day," he begins, a singular finger sliding between your folds and gathering the wetness that had gathered. You whine, straining against his hold on your neck. "and the one thing that’s gotten me through it is knowing I get to come home to this perfect piece of ass." He grins, feeling your pussy clench at the tip of his finger. "So I’m taking my fucking time with you."

A singular finger finally enters your swollen, aching, core, mouth falling open in a silent moan at the contact, finally. The sounds that echo around the room are obscene, wet and thick as his fingers curl, digging against that sweet spot inside of you.

"You hear that, sweety?" Adam murmurs mockingly against your lips, the pet-name dripping with irony as he kisses down harshly, a kiss you could only hope to keep pace with, never mind reciprocate. "You fucking filthy girl." A second enters, easily, coated in your slick within seconds as he draws moans from your lungs. He leans back, watching you flush and gasp beneath his hands, fingers pulling non-comically at the fist he had around your neck. A third finger enters, and this time, he feels the stretch.

"God, Adam-" You squeal, hips raising from the loveseat as he continues, the sinful sounds only getting louder and louder. You moan with every thrust of his fingers, hands gripping at the material of your shirts beneath you. You groans at the fiery pain in your walls, but your eyes roll at the pleasure that had started to build.

"So fucking wet, and all it took was the thought of being with me. At least you know how lucky you are babe, fuck-" His grip tightens around your neck, a fourth finger entering, and you scream, or would have if you had the oxygen to. A pathetic choking wail comes from your throat, and you clench tighter around his digits, hips chasing his hand with every thrust.

"I'm- I'm going to-" You sob as he picks up his pace, the sounds omitting from you downright sinful. Your thighs shake as your body goes rigid, mouth falling open in a silent scream.

Adam doesn't stop, eyes trained on his wife's face as you come undone beneath his fingers, hips jerking wildly as he thrusts and curls inside of you. It is only when your eyes flutter and legs fall slack that he stops, pulling his hand out from between your thighs with a sickening pop, fluid coating his hand and your inner thighs.

You blink heavily, gasping for breath as you finally return to your surroundings, feeling devastatingly empty but more than satisfied. Adam barely gives you a moment before he’s kissing you deeply, teeth tugging at your swollen lips and a hand winding into your hair to tug your head exactly where he wanted you. He doesn’t break the kiss as he scoops you into his arms, your hands grasp at his neck and shoulders as he carries you towards the bedroom.

He throws you down roughly on the edge of the side of the bed, shucking off his robe, trousers and pants quickly, hard and weeping cock springing free, red and painful at the neglect, balls heavy and painfully sensitive. You wiggle out of your red skirt, kicking it onto the floor as Adam clambers over you, knees pressed against the mattress. He slides his hand along your inner thighs, which part without question, gathering the wetness that coated them. He pumps his cock lazily, once, twice, abs clenching as he breathes deeply.

"I'm gonna fuck you so good you forget that cunts name.” He mutters more to himself, and it takes you a moment to realise who he was talking about. Ah, he hadn’t taken your comment about Lucifer earlier well. He never did. You can’t help but feel excited, as exhausted as you already were, Adam always got so competitive after a comment like that, and you always left the situation just as smug and satisfied as Adam felt. “Hope you haven’t got any important shit tomorrow, babe,” He comments, leaning over you and shrouding your smaller form with his large body, grinning down at you with a wickedness better suited to hell than heaven. “because it’ll be a miracle if you can walk.”

"You’re talking an awful lot." You comment, but your panting doesn’t give it the mocking you were hoping for. His wings flatten when your comment registers, and the golden feathers bristle as you continue. “You’ve yet to actually fuck me, I wonder if Lu-“

Without warning he thrusts forward, groaning hotly against your throat as his wings raise. You whine at the stretch, and your hands quickly burrow back into his wings as he bullies his way into you, forcing himself down to the hilt and not allowing you time to adjust. “Don’t you fucking dare say his name.” He hisses against your throat, biting at the skin harshly. He draws back, tip resting just inside your opening, and then surges forward, burying himself to the hilt, setting a brutal, staggering pace. You whimper in pain and pleasure at the abrupt pace, but fall into it as he thrusts, legs winding around his hips and anchoring him in place.

Adam groans into your skin with every thrust, unabashed and unashamed, the wet warmth between your thighs melting away his worries. His fingers dig painfully into the divots of your hips.

"You're my girl, no one else’s, my fucking girl." He groans, balls slapping against your ass as he thrusts, seizing your thighs and pushing them up towards your chest, folding you in half and giving you no choice but to breath and take it. "Clearly I’ve not been doing my job if you’ve had time to think about him, don't worry baby, I'll fix that."

"Adam," You moan at the new angle, his cock hitting that special spot inside with every thrust, legs shaking with every thrust. "please, please, please, I don’t-"

"Fucking slut, begging for my cock." He punctuates his sentence with a particularly hard thrust that has you keening, back arching from the crumpled bedsheets.

Suddenly, without warning, he pulls out completely and your high dissipates violently as you gasp and shoot upright, trying to tug him back down by his wings. "No, no, please-"

Large rough hands grab at your body as you are flipped around, hands scrambling for purchase and legs like jelly as you’re repositioned, locks falling into your face as Adam thrusts back in, hands gripping your hips as he pounds.

"You wanna act like a slut?" He drills his cock into you from behind, large hand pushing at your tail bone to force your back to arch. You comply easily, and you’re rewarded with a fist grabbing at the globe of your ass and slamming you back towards him with painful force. "I'll fuck you like a slut."

A tender hand runs up the column of your spine and you shiver, gasping into a moan as he gathers your hair in one tight fist and yanks.

"Oh! Oh Adam-"

Every slap of your ass with his hips has your head lurching back with the grip he has on your hair, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he thrusts, the harsh sound of slapping skin filling the room.

"Adam, ‘s too much," Your moans cut your sentence short, fists gripping the bed sheets as he pounds relentlessly, scalp stinging and pussy aching at the unforgiving stretch. "Please, I can't-"

"You fucking can." He growls, releasing your hair and shoving your head forward with a hand at the back of your neck, leaning forward to place wet kisses at the centre of your spine as he thrusts down. "I’m not done with you, so you're gonna fucking take it."

You moan pathetically into the bed sheets, fingers curling into the fabric either side of your head as your pussy throbs, a familiar searing heat coiling in your abdomen and tingling along your spine.

"We’re not done until you get that you’re mine, my bitch, and no one else can give you this, understand?" His large hands anchor themselves at your waist as he thrusts impossibly harder, sweat beginning to bead down his chest and stomach. No doubt bruises would be left behind, the thought of your perfect flesh, your perfect ivory skin, marred by his fingerprints only drives him further, his balls beginning to tighten.

"I'm- I'm - wait!" Adam doesn't listen to his wife's pleas, supporting your shaking hips with his large hands as he fucks you into the mattress, grinning past his exertion at seeing your thighs begin to quiver.

Your cracked voice mewls into the bedsheets as your second orgasm builds, panting pathetically as you brace yourself, tears of pleasure beginning to stream down your cheeks.

"Good fucking girl." Adam groans, feeling his own orgasm build, cock twitching within your walls. "Does my bitch finally get it? Huh?” Your lack of response doesn’t please him, and one of his large hands slaps the globe of your ass painfully as he continues his brutal pace. ‘'you gonna take it?"

"Please!" You finally wail, pussy clenching at the sheer anger in his voice, and beneath all the brovado, the desperation to know he’s doing a good job. And by God he was doing a phenomenal job. "So fuckin’ good Adam. I’m yours- yours.” You choke into the mattress when you feel his grip tighten against your hips, his hips stuttering at the praise. “Don’t stop. Adam, please, please-"

You wail pathetically, second orgasm crashing over you as you convulses beneath Adam’s cock, toes curling, legs only propped up with his large hands as you cry. “So, f-fuck– good.”

"Fuck." Adam groans as his own orgasm hits, balls tightening as he thrusts again and again, jerking uncontrollably as he empties inside of you, pumping his hips desperately. You can feel the air around you shift as his wings twitch, flapping powerfully with the concentration he pours into his final few thrusts, impossibly deep and hard as his arms flex against your lax figure. "Ah." He grunts, thrusting once, twice, collapsing on top of his shaking wife, cock buried to the hilt. His sweaty forehead presses between your shoulder blades, breathing hotly against your damp skin as you breathes shakily beneath him, catching your own breath as the aftershocks of your orgasm course through you.

"Fuckin’ perfect." Adam mutters gruffly against your skin, kissing tenderly as he straightens, hands landing on the globe of your red ass, slowly pulling his cock from you with a hiss. He watches with dark eyes as his cum gathers at your entrance, pushing a small trickle back in with a slick finger, causing you to gasp in surprise.

Large hands, far gentler than they had been mere moments ago, grasp your waist and manoeuvre you around, laying your panting frame back onto the edge of the bed. Adam leans down to kiss you sweetly, rough hands grabbing a thigh each and pulling them up towards your chest as he leans, tongue slipping into your mouth and licking into your cavern as he repositions, a soft sigh falling from your lips and your hands dangling leisurely from his broad shoulders.

He pulls back from the kiss, and you watch him with hooded eyes, unaware of the position you had found herself in until a thick cock-head presses at your weeping entrance once again. You look up, still panting, and Adam cannot help but feel utterly devoted to the sight in front of him, cock twitching back to full capacity; your cheeks shining from the tears that had spilled, lips puckered and swollen and invitingly red from the way he had nipped at them, the smattering of bruises that decorated your neck and chest. You were truly a vision, not a holy one, but absolutely divine to him.

"Adam, wait - I can't." You whimper breathily, hips pulling away from his cock. Too sensitive, too raw. Despite your reservations, Adam can see the way you breathe in suspense, the way your fingers flex against the bedsheets in anticipation. Hell, you weren’t even trying to close your legs in his grasp. You really shouldn’t have mentioned Lucifer’s name if you didn’t want this. He was nowhere near done.

"No?" He questions sarcastically, hands still pinning your thighs to your chest, golden eyes staring deeply into your own. "Looks to me like you can still talk back, that won’t do babe." Hands still grasping your milky thighs, Adam leans down, grinning before pressing a soft kiss right against your clit. You jerk, a cry falling from your lips. "Come on, sugar, you’re really tapping out so soon?" He rubs his cock against your folds, his cum coating his own flared tip, and your pussy flutters around him; you hiss out a whine. "What a shitty husband I’d be if I left you wanting, and from the look of you, I know you’re not done." He rubs his cock against you again, balls gathering the cum that had dribbled from your opening. You look up at him fervently, and you can see the determination in his heated gaze, and oh how that look had your core tightening as he leant impossibly closer. "Is my wife really done? I think she can take one more, one more, for me."

You groan as he enters again, slowly, cock dragging against your slicked walls, and a squelch emitting from your conjoined bodies as he finally bottoms out again. Your legs twitch in his hold, and he grinds his hips, fighting the urge to thrust.

Your mouth hangs open silently, eyes fluttering at the stretch to your over-sensitive core. Your nails tear at his shoulders uselessly, trying to distract yourself from the all-consuming pleasure, and the delightful sting has Adam clenching his jaw as he tries to remain composed. You can hear the shuddering breath he takes as he fights his instincts, pulling back just as slowly as he had entered, until the weight of his cock presses just inside your opening, and then thrusts back in, setting a slow, steady, hard pace.

He recaptures your lips in a searing kiss, biting at your lip until you allow him to snake his way inside, sucking the little air from your lungs as he pants into you, brows furrowed in concentration as he fucks into you with his hips and licks into your mouth hungrily. This time, he allows your hands to dig into his wings from the start, his own hands remaining perched on your thighs and pinning you down to take his harsh thrusts. He grunts when your fingertips delve back into the ruffled feathers, stretching them out beneath your touch and covering your body possessively beneath his larger frame.

"S-Shit babe.” He groans between thrusts, pace increasing silently. You can do nothing but moan pathetically, pussy aching and throbbing as your fingers dig deeper into his wings, and his shoulders tense at the intense pleasure that sparks all along his spine. "Fucking careful.” He tries to battle back his control that had begun to slip, and decides insulting you would mask the way your simplest of touches nearly had him finishing then and there. “F-fucking whore."

You simply groan, eyes rolled into the back of your head and hands blinding searching for purchase as that tight coil begins to wind in your abdomen, hips beginning to shift against his quickening thrusts. Your voice pitches and cracks as he pummels that special spot inside of you, and your hands clench into fists in his wings. "Oh God- Adam, right there, fuck – so fucking good."

“I know baby, I’m fucking good, I know.” He grits through clenched teeth, ever the egoist. Despite his parroting of the compliments as if they were simple facts, the compliments go straight to his head and his cock, and something in his chest tightens at the way you continue to babble his praises.

A particularly hard thrust has you gasping. "Adam, you’re so- so-" You couldn’t finish the sentence, but he got the message, and nearly cums with his next thrust, biting into your collarbone to distract himself from the praise.

Adam groans, balls already beginning to tighten. He yanks you closer as you continue to beg, forcing you in half as he pounds into you, cum spilling from around his cock as he thrusts again and again, your thighs slick with it.

"Adam, please." You pant, all air forced from your lungs as he drills into you over and over again, pussy struggling as Adam’s cum is forced from inside you to make room for his cock. "I'm all yours."

"Fuck, baby." He groans, balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. He releases your right thigh, free thumb pressing into your swollen clit and rubbing hard. "Cum for me, I know you've got one more. One more and I'll fucking fill you, one more."

You shriek at the pressure on your clit, head thrown back as your legs shake. Chanting 'yes, yes, Adam, fuck.' between wails.

"You can take it, 'fuckin' take it."

He swallows your scream with a kiss when you finally tip over the edge, your hips shaking against his own as your stomach erupts in a fiery jolt of pleasure that travels from the tips of your toes to your fingertips, back arching from the bedsheets. Adam swears against your lips, nails almost breaking the skin of your thighs as he cums, shoulders and wings tense as he humps tightly, burying himself to the hilt and pressing as much of his weight onto you as he could.

"Fuck, there you go." He groans, thrusting lazily, pressing you into the bedsheets, all of his weight forced onto your hips. "There you go."

You moan pitifully as his cock fully burrows itself to its hilt, both hands coming up to cradle the back of Adam’s head and shoulders as he allows his full weight to rest on top of you, face pressed against the crook of your neck, soft lips gently mouthing against a blossoming hickey, hips finally ceasing their aborted thrusts. You wrap your legs loosely around his hips as his hands curl beneath you, resting flat against your spine and securing you in his embrace. You sigh at the new angle, finally able to breath fully, and relaxes into the sticky sheets below, allowing Adam to lick at the bruises covering your neck and chest.

"You okay, baby?" Adam mutters softly, voice still unusually deep and gravelly as he comes down from his high, warm palms sliding against your sticky skin in some semblance of comfort, blunt nails scratching a light comforting pattern against your skin. He lifts himself up lightly, still burrowed within, sweaty brunet locks falling across his face and tickling your forehead.

"Never better." You grin, exhausted and blissed-out, a familiar ache beginning to settle deep within, but uncaring for the discomfort after seeing the poorly-masked worried devotion in your husband's eyes. "You’re amazing, you know."

"I know.” He hums cockily, and you swat at his arm playfully as he grins. “I supposed you aren’t half bad, too.”

Your head tilts in mock-offence, but the exhaustion and complete and utter satisfaction cloaking your eyes has you looking seconds away from passing out, and he chuckles at the sight. He studies you for a moment, mapping the flush to your cheeks and chest, the fraying of your elegant hairdo, the wet streams on your cheeks and the puffiness of your lips. His eyes travel lower, following a stream of bruises that caress your ivory skin all the way down to where your bodies conjoin. His eyes flicker back up and he grins cheekily, unapologetic and somewhat proud.

With a comforting pat to your thighs, Adam leans down for a far more tender kiss, grunting against you as he removes himself from you, dick falling free as he clambers up the bed and carefully tugs your spent body along with him, nestling you tightly into his side as his wings drape off both edges of the bed. He grunts, tugging you further onto his chest, and you giggle as you swing your arms around his chest and neck, cheek pressed against his shoulder and his own pressed against the top of your head, strong arms encircling your waist and pinning you close.

“I should rant to you more about my shitty days if you’re willing to cheer me up like this.” He grumbles to himself, eyes closed as he breathes deeply, and you feel the rumble of his chest beneath you. “I can feel you looking at me. Shut your mouth and enjoy the moment unless you want to piss me off again.”

“I didn’t even piss you off in the first place,“ You defend, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “but if you fuck me like that when you’re angry I’ll have to get you angry more often.”

“You want to go again?” Adam questions deftly, the exhausted surprise yet underlying giddiness in his voice almost making you laugh, if not for the fact that you were utterly and completely spent.

“No, no, I’m more than happy. I was going to say we should shower.”

He ‘humphs’ like a child, heavy arms not moving as you try to wriggle away from his grasp to begin running the shower. “What’s the rush? Give me ten minutes.”

“We’re disgusting.”

“Five minutes.” He mutters, rightening his hold on your waist. “You never know, in those five minutes you might want to go again, and then we’d save having to wash ourselves again, save the water bill and all that shit, y’know?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You married me.” He backhands childishly, pulling you in closer to his chest. “So that we can be disgusting together. Now shush and stop talking, I was enjoying the moment.”

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randomgurl2326 · 4 months

Text

Adam Relationship Headcannons

SFW

You two met after the whole Lilith and Eve debacle

You were sent to be his Guardian Angel down in the Garden of Eden. Honestly, he couldn’t care less about Eve when he first saw you

He was in the middle of the garden, talking to Eve and then you show up… man’s whipped. Simp I tell you

(Actually wished that you were made to be his wife instead of the baddie Lilith or the goodie-two-shoes Eve)

Again. Whipped.

Now, tho is guy… whewww. He may seem incredibly misogynistic to practically everyone around him. But he can be a total sweetheart

He would—if you didn’t know how to already—teach you how to shred on the guitar

Speaking of guitars, that gold strat that he had during the battle in the last episode is only used during a special occasion (case and point, when you two have a date night or after sex)

He also serenades you every chance he gets

After dinner

After a meeting

After sex

After just walking the goddamn promenade

I also think he would be heavenly (ha! See what i did there? No? Okay…) in the kitchen. Especially for date night. Adam knows how to make the best prime rib in heaven

(Lute totally hasn’t tried to blackmail the recipe out of him)

Adam is also very insecure about how he looks under his mask

Especially after having two wives ditch him for Lucifer

He definitely needs to be praised on a daily basis, even if it seems like he’s an egotistical asshole

Every day you tell him how handsome he is and he doesn’t believe you (c’mon have you seen him fuckin’ hot)

You two sometimes don’t see each other days on end because you both work so much. You being a high-ranking Angel/seraphim and him being well… the first man on Earth

If you guys go especially long for not seeing each other, you guys hole up a few days in your shared home spending time with each other among other things…

By the way, you and Lute are best friends, probably more than her and Adam

Like, seriously, if you’re not with him, you’re with her. Gossiping or fucking around, it’s heaven, there’s infinite things to do

You two are also very lovey dovey with each other

One time Sera had cover Emily’s eyes with her wings because you two were making out and feeling each other up in the middle of the Heavenly Court Room

Despite all of his faults, he’s a good husband to you, a great one actually. And if you two were to ever have kids, he’d definitely be the dad who everyone loves

He would introduce them to rock, punk, metal.

Definitely plays his guitar to get them to sleep every night

NSFW

Okay… he want lying about being the Dick Master. He can pleasure women, that is not a problem for him

Also, it might not seem like it, but he loves going down on you. Probably one of his favorite pass times actually

I swear, this man could make you scream his name within minutes. No joke

Don’t get me wrong, he loves receiving head

But just not as much as he loves eating pussy (Lilith and Eve missed out on that one for sure)

He also has a bigger dick than average

Probably 6-7.5 inches in length and hella girthy. Uncircumcised (duh), and a vein that runs up the bottom of it

Definitely knows how to use it

Every one within a five mile radius of your guys’ house… let’s just say I feel really bad for them

No joke, he is insane about pleasuring you

This probably also feeds into his insecurity about you leaving him (you won’t)

He for sure has a praise kink. Seriously, tell him he’s a good boy and he’s unraveling under your touch instantly

His favorite position is cowgirl (what can he say, he loves powerful women)

But he’s down for whatever position you want; missionary, warrior, against a wall, whatever

Speaking of wall sex, Lute has definitely caught you two more than once

The first time she did was when you two were in Adam’s office while he was supposed to be planning the next extermination. She came to ask him a question about it and there you two were. Goin’ at it like rabbits on the wall next to his desk

She couldn’t look you guys in the eye for three weeks. It was terrible

Adam also doesn’t seem like the type of guy to have sex toys or feel the need to use them

But, again, he’s whipped. So he’s willing to do whatever you want to do

Wont admit this to anyone but you, but he likes to sub every once in a while. Especially with all the ‘first man’ stuff weighing down on him he needs a way to get away from all that stress

Despite him making crude jokes about sex, he’s a very giving partner in bed

He had to make sure you cum at least twice before he gets his dick wet

Also, have I mentioned how good he is at eating pussy? Oh, I have? Yeah, well, he is (especially with that tiny bit of stubble on his chin… gahhh)

Just needed to get it out there

All in all, Adam is a very giving person in bed, can be selfish at times but will make up for it. He loves you too much for you to feel mad or upset (especially with him)

A/N: this was my first time writing for Adam and Hazbin in general. I hope you liked it. I love you all💚💜

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thesoftestpunk · 1 year

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I want you, Baby I need you

Summary: your friend tells you someone may like you and so stupidly, you begin to think about them a little differently

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

A/N: I feel like my brain fog made the pacing weird :/

Warnings: bullying, girls being mean :(, lots of fluff and pining!!

Main Masterlist

Pt.2

“Guess what?” One of your teammates, Christina, asks the second you place your tray down on the table, looking too smug for your liking. Before you can even ask, she’s talking over you. “The freak has a crush on you.”

“Who?” You genuinely forget who she’s referring to for a second, but her scoff seems to jog your memory. “Oh. Eddie Munson?”

“Who else?” She sneers, and everyone else around you laughs like it’s some huge joke, but you’re certain she isn’t joking. “God, how embarrassing.”

Your cheeks burn as they laugh even harder. You let out a weak chuckle, feeling the world around you shrink and become suffocating.

“Yeah,” you let out, trying to play along. “Could you imagine? Me and him?”

You blatantly refuse to call him a freak. Since moving into town two years ago, you quickly learned city life and small town life were completely different worlds. Despite falling in with the semi-popular crowd by joining the swimming team, you understood the struggle Eddie and his friends had to go through. You weren’t freak status back home, but you weren’t popular either. Not always well known, but always well liked, and your new friends teasing him about the rumor makes you worry about it spreading. For your sake and not his. You don’t want to deal with any sort of teasing from anyone.

Guilt crawls up your throat as you steal a glance toward his table, catching his eye as he curiously looks on at the boisterous scene going on around you. You give a quick smile, which probably comes off as more of a wince, and turn back around. In all honesty, he hasn’t been on your radar. You don’t know much about him other than the fact that he’s loud, labeled The Freak of Hawkins High, and has made a scene or two in class.

“Oh god,” Christina sighs out, wiping nonexistent tears from her eyes. “Pathetic.”

Humming half heartedly, you focus on shoving your shitty school food around your tray instead of eating it, a sudden pit sitting heavy in your stomach. Because Eddie having a crush on you actually felt flattering.

You choose to sit next to him in English, even give a small smile when you sit. There’s still time before the bell rings, and you find yourself glancing over at him. You open and close your mouth, uncertain of what to say until the words suddenly come tumbling out.

“How many tattoos do you have?”

For a second he doesn’t realize you’re talking to him until the silence makes him look up and realize you’re staring straight at him, expectantly. He points to himself as if asking ‘me?’ eyebrows raised and his already wide doe eyes getting even wider. And you nod while fighting off a smile.

“Why d’you wanna know?” He eyes you suspiciously, certain that whatever information you’re about to get out of him is going to get back to your friends and fuel the constant fire over his head.

“I dunno,” you shrug a shoulder, but you’re honest. What the fuck were you supposed to say to Eddie Munson anyway? He was intimidating as hell because he put himself in the spotlight like it was nothing. It isn’t like you hate attention, but too much makes you nauseous. “Thinking about getting one, I guess?”

“You guess?” His head tilts, causing his hair to cascade over his shoulder. Of course he would be defensive. Christina was just making fun of him less than an hour ago.

“It’s- forget it,” you shake your head. You can’t believe you would trust your nasty, mean friends when they said he had a crush on you.

Turning back to the front of the classroom, you wait painfully for the bell to ring, and once it does, the room fills quickly with slightly out of breath students. A couple of your teammates wave at you until you finally break and they gesture wildly, asking ‘what the fuck are you doing sitting next to him?’ All you can do is give an apologetic shrug and decide you’ll lie to them later and say it was the only seat you could find. They just roll their eyes and pull out their textbooks.

“Five.” Eddie’s voice surprises you.

Turning your head, you hope no one sees when you ask. “Did they hurt?”

“No, ‘course not.” He bites back a smile, trying to act all tough.

“Liar.” Your nose scrunches and it makes him laugh at how cute it is.

You don’t mean to, truly, but now you look out for Eddie in the halls, stare at him during class, and hope for one more conversation. One that’s less embarrassing, but you do hope. Despite your friend's relentless teasing after English class the other day, you give a small wave back anytime he gives you one. You never initiate first, too shy and afraid it’ll lead to more teasing. This way you can just say you’re being polite when you wave back and they see, but more often than not, they’re too caught up in their own little worlds. Even though you’re scared they’ll tease, you keep an eye out for him and you learn more than you ever knew before. He’s polite. He lets the cheerleaders walk ahead if they bump into each other at a corner in the hall. One arm is tucked behind his back as he sweeps the other out and he bows a little. They give him weird looks respectively, but he just smiles and moves on. He might joke around with his friends, but if you listen closely, you can hear the kindness and compliments hidden underneath the meaning of his words. The group is small, but he holds the same amount of care for each and every one of them. Including his ‘little sheepies’ which you don’t fully understand, but he used a lot of words you don’t understand, and you thought you were smart. After a little investigating, you learn some of them are made up, but you seem to like the fact that he’s nerdy and into this series called Lord of the Rings.

You’re starting to like Eddie.

“Oh my God,” Christina moves in your line of sight, in front of him. You’d positioned yourself at the cafeteria table so you didn’t have to turn around to subtly watch him anymore. “Are you staring at the freaks?”

“Stop calling them that,” you roll your eyes. “You know I hate that.”

She crosses her arms defensively. “Just, you know, being honest. What’s so interesting about them anyway?”

“Nothing.” You mutter, going back to nibbling on the shitty cardboard pizza they served today.

She turns around and gets the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen from her when her eyes connect with Eddie’s.

“Holy shit. You’ve got a crush on The freak!”

“Christina!” You swat at her, but it’s too late. Everyone else at your table already heard and is staring at you incredulously. “I- I do not.”

“Puh-lease. You’ve been making googly eyes at him for weeks at this point!”

“It hasn’t been weeks,” you mutter under your breath.

“Ew!” Another one of the girls scrunches her nose and jabs a thumb in his direction. “Him?”

“Better be careful, Y/N,” another taunts. “Don’t wanna find you in the woods. I heard he, like, sacrificed a girl out there last year. No one’s heard from her since.”

“Oh my god, me too!” Christina pretends to look concerned. “You think that’s what happened to Nancy’s friend too? What was her name? Bev?”

“Didn’t he like…” the girl to your left leans in and stage whispers, but she could be heard from across the room if you listened hard enough. None of them understood the concept of speaking at a normal volume. “Bite a bat's head off?”

“That was actually Ozzy Ozbourne!” Eddie leans so far back in the chair that the two front legs don’t touch the ground, one of his legs lifted so the bottom of his dirty Reebok’s supports his weight against the table.

You’re mortified at the idea that Eddie has heard every single word, but he was at the other end of the long table today.

“Ugh,” Christina rolls her eyes again before turning to face him. “As if we know that freak either!”

“Tina,” you hiss, not wanting to start a scene over this nonsense.

“Whatever. You don’t have a crush.” She fully faces the table again and starts talking about the party at Jason’s after the game on Friday.

You go to throw an apologetic look at Eddie, but find him missing from the table, and a couple of his friends send glares your way, making you shrink in shame.

Eddie isn’t in English, or History, and you find out through the grapevine he skips the rest of the day entirely. It wasn’t uncommon for him to do, but you feel like it’s your fault. The days leading up to the party, he seems to avoid you, eyes darting away quickly and showing up late enough to class that it’s guaranteed there’s no free seats around you. Christina seems to take notice of your sour mood, but only asks once. You lie and say you’re fine, but you feel sick to your stomach. You never actively partook in the bullying, but you never stopped it either.

The day of the game finally rolls around, filled with school spirit and a pep rally, but once again Eddie is nowhere to be found. Not that he’d ever attended a pep rally in his whole high school career, but you at least expected to spot him at lunch. He’s even absent from your shared classes. After school, you hang around in the parking lot, wasting time before you all have to go home and get ready for the game. You frown as you observe his friends, chatting away aimlessly and occasionally throwing candy around. They hang around what you think is Eddie’s van, but if he skipped all day, why would he be here now?

“Hey,” Christina’s voice surprises you, quiet and genuine. “Just us girls… you have a crush on Munson?”

“I…” you trail off, surprised she isn’t faking her valley girl voice, and you feel like you can trust her once again since you met her two years ago. She wasn’t your first friend in Hawkins, but you had been close when you first joined the team. “I dunno. He’s actually kinda sweet. Maybe?”

“Seriously?” And then she guffaws, catching you off guard once more. “Ugh, grody! Guys, Y/N actually has a crush on Munson!”

“I- I didn’t say that!” You can’t believe Christina would do something like that. As you watch them all laugh and tease, you wonder when they all got so mean and why you started letting them get away with it.

“You said maybe. That’s, like, totally a yes!”

“Like it’s such a bad thing to have a crush on me?”

Everyone quiets as you slowly turn around to find Eddie standing there, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Eddie, I…” you aren’t even sure what to say as he glares down at you.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging around you, Munson.” Christina’s voice makes you squeeze your eyes shut in frustrated embarrassment. “Even your parents couldn’t stand to stay around. Must be hard having a cultist son. Fucking embarrassing.”

The lot gets so quiet, you can hear the grinding of his teeth as he sets his jaw. He doesn’t even dignify her with a response, turning and walking away before anyone can see the red staining his cheeks.

“Tina… that was major harsh.” One of the girls breaks the silence.

“Oh, eat my shorts, Janice. Are we getting ready at my house or not?”

Everyone seems to hesitate but Christina was captain of the team. No one was going to say no. Well, no one but you.

“I’ve, um, got a thing. I’ll meet you guys at the game.” You glance over toward Eddie, watching as he harshly shoves his shoulder back to avoid one of his friends' hands.

You shouldn’t go to the game, but you do.

Janice called you from Christina’s house, sounding hopeful. You promised to be there, despite your whole body screaming at you to just stay home. Janice promises the whole thing will blow over by Monday, and something else will come along. But it won’t just blow over with Eddie. You know that. He had looked so hurt when you turned around to face him. In all the years of getting bullied, that was the first time he showed anyone what their words did to him. And it was your fault.

You had promised Janice you’d be there, but when you stand outside the gymnasium, you can’t make yourself go in. Can’t make yourself face who you thought were your friends. So, you walk down a path between the large building and the school and take out a key. The pool was somewhat separated, but you could still hear the muffled band playing when you entered the echoey room. You keep a spare swimsuit in your locker for this exact situation. The sport helped clear your mind and you needed to get rid of the image of Eddie’s broken look.

You swim even after the cheering and the band stops. You swim until you feel like your limbs are going to fall off, and even though you don’t want to, you shower off the chlorine. As you step out into the somewhat cool autumn air, a double door bursts open, and the kids that come spilling out make you stop.

His little sheepies. Which means…

Fuck.

Eddie is the last one out, smile so wide you can’t help but wonder if it hurts. They all talk over each other, but Eddie just seems to watch over in pride. You take a step back into the shadows, hoping your bright multicolored windbreaker doesn’t give you away.

“Hey!” Is that… Steve Harrington? “You guys were supposed to be done an hour ago.”

“The campaign ends when it ends, Steve!” One of them retorts back.

“Yeah, well, I don’t have all night Henderson. Let’s go!”

All three freshmen rush to Steve’s BMW and scramble inside. He and Eddie share a nod before he gets in and peels out of the lot, and you can still hear all of them shouting in excitement. The other three seniors exchange goodbyes before parting ways, but Eddie sticks behind. Neither of you move until all the cars are gone except for his van and yours. Why the fuck hasn’t he moved?

“Is it just you?” Eddie finally speaks, turning toward your piss poor excuse of a hiding spot. “Or is the rest of the team waiting somewhere?”

“I’m- I’m alone.” It scares you once you realize you’re the only two on the property. Probably the only two within a few miles at this point. “Look, I’m really sorry about them. Christina especially. I don’t know when she got so…”

“Bitchy?”

That makes you breathe out a laugh, not realizing you were holding your breath. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

It’s quiet for a moment as he shifts his weight to his other leg, observing you and the whole situation.

“Do you want to sit by the pool and talk?” It’s starting to feel pretty creepy outside, and the cold night wasn’t helping your wet hair.

“I thought it was locked after hours.”

You hold up the bronze key, but offer up an explanation anyway. “My uncle is actually the coach. He got me into swimming competitively in the first place. Technically I’m not allowed to bring friends in but…”

“Good thing I’m not really a friend.” He walks past you and you’re a bit frozen in place, not believing he accepted.

You’re nervous as you unlock the door once more and wave him inside like he would but you give an awkward curtsy. As he’s turning in a small circle to take in how the water reflects off the walls and ceiling, you slip off your shoes and roll up your jeans as far as you can go. He begins to do the same when he sees you sticking your feet in the water.

“Jesus Chri-! That’s cold!” His voice bounces off the walls, and your laughter follows.

“Well, yeah, most pools are.” You tuck your hands underneath your thighs and move your right leg around in small circles, disrupting the water. “Didn’t see you at the game.”

“That kind of stuff is bullshit. Forced conformity.” Before he goes on a rant, he looks at the sly smile on your face, as if you were going to enjoy this topic of conversation. But he knew you’d react either of two ways if he kept on. Confused, or freaked out. So he leans back on his palms and tries to act casual. “And if I’m guessing right, you weren’t there either.”

“Didn’t feel like it.” You give a halfhearted shrug. “Christina really… what she said about your parents— I just don’t see her the same anymore. I don’t know how it happened, but she just got so mean, and everyone’s too scared to say anything because she's the captain. Sorry, I’m- ranting.”

“Christina wasn’t far off.”

The admission bounces around as you look at him.

“Eddie…”

“It was forever ago.” He kicks the water, causing a small splash. “Aren’t you co-captain anyway?”

“Yeah? So?” You didn’t think he would know that, and it makes you feel all mushy inside that he knows something so simple about you.

“So don’t you have us much say as her?”

“With her tyrannical rule? No way.”

“No shame in running, but sometimes you gotta be the hero.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “I’m sure getting to Mordor would be easier than standing up to Christina.”

“You’ve read…?”

“No.” That’s a half lie. “Well, sorta. I haven’t gotten very far. I don’t know if it’s my thing, but you talk about it so much, I wanted to check out all the hype.”

Eddie looks taken aback, mouth hung open.

“Is that what dungeons and dragons is?” You ask curiously, which seems to take him back even more. “I mean everybody says it’s bad, but it’s just nerd shit, right? Sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“It is nerd shit.” He straightens his back at the new topic of conversation. “All it is, is tabletop fantasy role play. Doesn’t have to be like Lord of the Rings. You could have a whole western fantasy campaign. Maybe even in space.” He’s ranting, and god does he know it, but you lean in instead of awkwardly looking away like everyone else does.

“Campaign…?”

“Well, it’s…” Eddie thinks for a moment before explaining in the most simple of terms how a campaign works. You nod along, enthralled by every detail, even when he derails and starts rambling about character class and stats. He rambles on about their current campaign to help explain better, and he uses silly voices and moves animatedly. You laugh, but not at him. He continues to tease, loving your laugh and that you aren’t making fun of him. His arms flail a bit and he gives a few teasing nudges, but in his excitement he forgets his strength.

“Wait, Eddie-!” You fall in the water, grabbing on to him in an attempt to stop, but end up pulling him down with you. The both of you come up spluttering, but you end up laughing at the mop of hair on his head.

“Shit,” he laughs nervously. “It’s deep.”

“Wait. Can you swim?”

“Well, I’m no athlete, but yeah. I can swim.”

“Well…” you swim forward, a sly smile creeping its way onto your face. “Might as well, right? We’re already in here. You’ll want your jacket off, though. It’s gonna be too much dead weight.”

“Right, I’ll uh…”

“Here, I’ll keep us afloat while you get it off.”

Before he can understand what’s happening, you wrap your arms around his waist, your face entirely too close to his. With what little space you have, you can see freckles splashing across his face, and you chew on the inside of your cheek to keep your composure. He avoids eye contact as he struggles out of the leather, the tip of his tongue making a surprise appearance, before tossing the jacket aside and it lands with a loud wet slap.

“Cool. Now good luck catching me!” You splash him a little harsher than you had intended, but you make a dash to escape.

“You’re gonna regret that!”

You’re a lot better at swimming than he is, almost too fast to be caught, but you slow down after awhile on purpose. As his hand wraps around your ankle, making you squeal, you tell yourself you did it to not wear him out and frustrate him. That you didn’t want to anger him, as he’s pulling you into him and dunking both of you under water. You struggle against his arms, but he’s strong. You can feel the unexpected muscle against your hands, but he lets you go too soon and you both come up gasping for air.

“Told ya.” water sprays a bit from his mouth as his chest heaves.

“You cheated.”

“I never cheat, sweetheart.” He wades toward you slowly, dropping down just until his mouth sinks into the water.

“Eddie Munson, don’t you dare,” you warn but your tone is too light. “You dunk me again, I’ll- I’ll make sure you smell like chlorine for a week.”

He doesn’t listen, and you swim backward until your back crashes into the tiled wall. The cold sends a shiver down your spine. Definitely not the way Eddie comes back up, water dripping from his chin and his arms blocking you in on either side of you. His eyes drop to your lips and you find yourself breathing heavily for a completely different reason, your chest brushing against his with every inhale. Neither of you make a move, just admiring every detail you can while breathing each other's air. Just when you think he might, a loud bang comes from one of the locker rooms, making you both jump and look around frantically. You find yourself gripping one of his forearms tightly in shock.

“We should- we should probably get out.” No one else had access to the pool except your uncle, but you doubted he would come by at midnight. He trusted you to not fool around, and you really hadn’t let him down until now. “I swear the locker rooms are haunted.”

Still, you don’t move until he does, and swim to the nearest ladder to get out. The only sound is the water from your clothes dripping on the floor, and suddenly you feel exhausted. Your clothes feel heavy as they cling to your skin. Without discussing it, you both start peeling your clothes off, slightly turned away to give each other privacy. As you’re wringing out your shirt, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder at Eddie, and catch the way his shoulder blades move while he does the same. His eyes catch yours and you smile sheepishly before turning back around. You’re both down to your underwear, unsure of how to proceed.

“We should shower. Alone I mean. You can go to the boys’. There’s towels.” You speed walk away, too self conscious to hang around too long.

“Wait!” He follows you quickly, careful not to slip. “You’re just gonna drop the fact that the locker rooms are haunted and then leave me alone to fend for myself?”

Your footsteps slow, and you let out a small huff because you know you know you’ll feel guilty until the end of time if you do that to him.

“There’s going to be rules, Munson.”

“Oh, of course.” He agrees quietly.

“We go in at the same time and undress fully in our own shower. You’re not to come out until I have, and even then, you’re not to look anywhere but your own shower. When I say it’s okay, you can leave, got it?”

“I think you forgot the part about the towels.”

“Do not make me regret this.”

You’ve never been so self conscious showering until now. Even with a zero percent chance of Eddie seeing you naked, you worry, but you also think about the fact that he’s in the same exact state you’re in right now. That somehow makes the whole thing feel way too intimate, and you can’t believe the first time you got to hang out with your -possible- crush, you both end up naked. If that basic, no detailed rumor got out, you’d surely die of embarrassment. Turning around, you place your face underneath the stream of water, trying so hard to not think about the small glimpse of his torso that you got. The dark patch of hair sneaking underneath his boxers that clung to his thighs from the water.

“So, are you from Hawkins?” His voice brings you out of your wandering thoughts. You quickly turn the knob from hot to cold in hopes that it keeps you calm.

“My parents are.” Looking down, you watch the water swirl around at your feet. “My grandmother got sick and my uncle couldn’t take care of her by himself. So, we packed up and moved back here, but I can tell my parents are happy to be back home. It’s less demanding than the city.”

“The uncle being coach thing makes a lot more sense now.”

“Not a lot of people know actually.” You turn the water off completely, and wrap your arms around your torso self consciously. “I’m getting out now.”

It isn’t the easiest topic of conversation, but when she had first gotten sick two years ago, your mother went to stay with her for the three months she had been told she would live. When it was clear she was going to hang on longer than expected, they decided it would just be better to move permanently and the old lady was still sticking around. Despite being so sick, you liked hanging out with her most afternoons. Even if she forgot who you were.

You carefully walk out of the shower, towel wrapped around yourself tightly, and as you pass by the stall that Eddie is in, you catch a glimpse in the crack between the curtain and wall. All you manage to catch is the back of his head, arms extended upward to wash out whatever shampoo you’d let him borrow. He begins to turn and you look away with your cheeks burning. You attempt to dry your hair underneath one of the hand dryers, and it isn't long when Eddie comes out, damp boxers back on and using the towel you gave him to rub his hair dry. He pauses seeing you kneeled down, holding the towel to your chest so that nothing gets exposed and he realizes he forgot to wait for your okay, but you don’t seem to mind as you give a soft smile.

“I’ll grab our clothes.” He says when the dryer finally turns off and leaves you to get somewhat decent.

He’s suddenly so quiet as he hands over your clothes, no witty comment or joke as the two of you get dressed. All there is between you are stolen glances and nervous smiles. Once fully clothed again, you walk beside him, feeling a little stiff. Not from how your cold clothes stick to you, but from nerves. The soft lights from the pool make his face glow, and your stomach drops in the best way possible. He gets the door for you, and waits with his hands stuffed in his jacket as you lock up. The grass crunches underneath your footsteps, dry from the temperature and lack of rain. Neither of you speak, until you hit the parking lot, cars too far from each other to continue walking together.

“Were they right?” You ask before he gets a chance to escape, arms anxiously crossed over your chest. “My friends. ‘Cause if they were… I think I have one too.”

“Have what?”

Shit. You were too vague.

“A crush, dummy.”

Realization dawns on his face as he absorbs your confession. He can’t believe it, and the worst smallest part of him thinks you’ve done this whole thing as a joke, and someone is going to pop out with a camera to capture how big of an idiot he’s been. All that happens is you chew on your bottom lip, anxiously waiting for an answer, and he's leaving your heart out in the open for too long.

“Yes, yeah, they were right.” He watches how you smile and takes a mental image to last forever. “I’m not really quiet about anything.”

“I just never expected…” you shake your head and look at your feet. “You. You’ve just so suddenly become this big thing in my life.”

Eddie barely has to take a step to be close enough to take your face in his hands and lift your head up to pull you into a searing kiss. It’s so unexpected that you laugh in surprise against his lips, but he smiles at the sound. When you’ve settled down, you move your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, eager to feel his heartbeat slow to match the rhythm of your own. He kisses you so sweetly, you really do think he’s a gentleman. A quick slip of his tongue doesn’t change your mind either.

“If you don’t stop me,” he gets out between kisses. “We’ll be here all night sweetheart.”

“I like that idea,” you tease as his lips move along your jawline, and down your neck. Your eyelids flutter closed, and you focus on every feeling.

Eddie pulls back, showing some self restraint and you almost whine at the loss of contact.

“You’re gonna get a cold if you stay out here.”

“So will you!”

“I’m going to walk you to your car, and you’re going to go home and get all snuggled in bed, okay?” He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, the ghost of a smile ever present.

“Fine.”

Eddie takes your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and walks the short distance to your car. You make no move to enter, back pressed against the driver side door, and grab him by his jacket. He braces himself with one arm, looking down at you, his other hand stroking your cheek with the back of his pointer finger. The featherlight touch makes you shiver, and you find yourself getting lost in his almost pitch black eyes. Those eyes that are so beautiful and full of lashes, that a cow would be jealous. You pull him in for another kiss, arms wrapping underneath his jacket and around his small waist. He groans into your mouth, not wanting to leave if you were going to kiss him slowly like that.

“I’m personally thanking Christina on Monday.” He gives your knuckles a quick kiss before taking a few steps backwards, not wanting to look away, and turning for his own vehicle.

Christina’s head almost explodes when he does exactly that and plants a kiss on your lips in the cafeteria, but you just act innocent when you take his outstretched hand and move to sit with him at his table. It felt good, and it felt even better when you give her the finger when she wouldn’t stop staring.

#eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #my writing.

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lilmashae · 8 months

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*ੈ♡‧₊˚paper thin (walls) — s.jy

cw: oral (f), unprotected sex, roommate!jake, pet-names, some plot sprinkled here and there, NOT PROOFREAD, smut (so 18+)

a/n: hi! if you're coming back to this post // revisiting and wondering, "is something different?" it is! i've decided that for longer fics (such as this one) i'll be using a larger font to contribute to the readers experience reading. thank you for the feedback everyone!

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"fuck, fuck, fuck! ah — r-right there,"

"yeah?"

"c'mon, c'mon... oh, fuck!"

you'd lost count — how long has it been? too long. how many girls have come in (and out) of his room in the last week? too many — jake must be insatiable, the 'hook-ups' must be never ending. never ending as in the loud "noise" would never end, and you'd never get any proper sleep.

"look who's finally awake!"

"go fuck yourself."

" 'ouch! that's no way to greet your favorite roommate."

"you're my only roommate, asshole."

"i know." jake hummed contently with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face, and you scoffed, " 'you like hoeing around? don't you have any hobbies?"

" 'love it," he paused, "nope. 'don't think so."

nope? no? damn right, the way those girls scream and cry out, it's a sport — a work out, a job, even. several girls would come in and out of your shared apartment, each of them having a different reaction to your presence. jake's type seemed to vary, bimbos and uptight, good girls, drunken sorority bitches to gothic, edgy ones. you began to wonder if he'd just do anything to get his dick wet. "right, well, i have a date tonight."

"so?" resting his head in his hand, jake batted his eyelashes.

"so, 'place's mine." if you were paying him any attention, you would have noticed the pout spread on his lips. "but, y/nnie— " the nickname makes you sick, you roll your eyes. "no buts! tonight y/nnie's 'gonna get laid." mockingly, you reply in a condescending tone, "booping" his nose before waltzing back into your room.

it's not that you and jake didn't get along—you two wouldn't have moved in together if that was the case. but even in highschool, before you two began living together he always had a habit of picking up strangers. "you're too nice, jake." you told him one time while walking home and he shrugged. " 'you think so?" he watched you nod as the two of you strode alongside one another. "yeah." blatantly, you mumbled under your breath. you'd always remembered that evening—insignificant as it may be. and it may have been because later that night you swore you saw jake sneak out with some girl, a big smile on his face as he waved up to you from your window. all you could do was roll your eyes, but as you walked away from the window-seal and into your bed, you somewhat wished he'd call you to go out instead.

"jake..." you walked out of your room, searching around for the tall australian. "jake," you walked up to his door, knocking once. no answer. twice, still, no answer. a third time—the last time before barging into his room. "ja—are you serious?" you deadpan. "where are your clothes, don't you have somewhere to be?"

"you're so mean, y/n. it feels like you always want me gone." he sighs, one hand (holding a towel) tangled in his hair still drying it as he sits down. "no... but, as of now, yes... i have a date." your voice sounded a bit more whiny than you had intended. "a date, or a hook-up?" jake laughed, looking up at you from his seat. "oh please, you have girls over all the time. i think it's fine for me to get laid for once."

"so you want me to leave... so you can fuck some guy?" he pauses. "for once?"

"i don't know, jake. yeah, maybe." you cross your arms and pinch the bridge of your nose. "why'd i have to leave? you're always here when i—"

"that's not the point, that's different and you know it."

"how, 'you shy or something?" it's not that, of course you're not "shy". but you'd feel guilty getting off with jake in the other room—and, sure, you've done it before; you've listened to him fuck at least a hundred girls, wishing it was you. you've also listened to him whine and stroke his dick painfully slow, debating whether or not you should barge in and drop to your knees. "no, jake. i'm not shy." you pick a shirt up off of his floor throwing it at him, as it covers his head and he laughs. "i think you are." jake gets up, walking towards you with a smirk on his face.

"am not."

"are... too." he's closer.

"no, i'm not."

"no?"

"no."

"prove it." your breath hitches in your throat—your faces are inches apart, you can feel his breath on your lips. swallowing thickly, you pout. "how..?" it's more of a whisper, and you find yourself leaning allowing him to lean into your lips. "jake," one of your hands rest on his chest as he has you caged between his arms. "my date..." "cancel it, yeah?" he whispers against your lips, crashing into them. they're pillowy and soft—his lips are just how you imagined, plush and full. "mhm," a muffled moan escaped your mouth as you feel jake's hands travel down your body, one hand cupping your cheek and the other pawing at your side. when he finally pulls away the only thing connecting the two of you is a string of saliva. "you're a pretty good kisser." he huffs, chuckling and you nod. "yeah, you're not bad." you mutter and he pulls you back in, this time his tongue swipes over your bottom lip before entering your mouth.

the hand that was once gently cupping your cheek moved to roughly unbutton your pants as he picked you up. "ah!" a small yelp left through your lips as he lifted you up, feeling his bulge through the wet spot in your underwear only made you squirm and whine into the kiss. "s'sensitive, hm, baby?" "shut up..." he sits you down on his bed, kisses still trailing down your body: from your mouth, cheek, and your neck—wet, sticky trails of spit coated your collarbones and stomach by the time he reached your core. "jake, c'mon, please." you whimpered watching as he continued to tease you, playing with the waist of the thin fabric.

finally, the path of kisses lead to your hip and then right-over your clit (which made you shiver). " 'smell so good, y/n." his nose prods at your clit as he loops his fingers under the material to play with your arousal. " 'been waiting so long to taste..." and those are his final words before diving into your cunt—moaning into your heat as his tongue laps over your folds. "f-fuck! y-you've been, ah! 'been waiting, jakey?" and he hums, sending waves of pleasure throughout your abdomen—a sigh of relief when his lips latch onto you, sucking and drooling. but right when you feel the knot in your stomach about to snap—"shit," you hiss. "n-no, jake, please." he pulls away. "s'okay sweetheart, 'want you to cum 'round my cock, princess, 'kay?" nodding feverishly, you sat up straight puling your shirt over your head and pulling jake into you by his sweatpants. "someone's eager." he smiled against your lips and you nipped at his bottom lip, bruising the soft pink skin. "well i was planning to get laid," you pause, "for once." now you've done it—you've got him riled up, and the same for him.

he knew you could hear him every-night, fucking girl after girl, after all, your apartments walls are paper thin. jake just wondered how long it'd take, or if he'd have to lure you into his bed another way. any how, it was worth it, you were worth the effort—being able to claim your sweet cunt as his own, that was worth it.

"fuck, you're so tight... 'relax f'me, cutie." jake groaned in your ear aligning himself with your sopping hole before pushing in. "you're so perfect, fucking pretty..." he kissed away the tears streaming down your eyes. the way he jerked himself before dipping his tip into your slick drove you feral (and so did the sight of his pink leaking tip)—the stretch provided alone was enough to make you want to cum on his cock, but the way he praised you made you want to hold out. with each thrust jake hit deeper and deeper, causing you to moan wildly, "fuck, m-more, more, more!" and, "please... i can take it,"'s echoing off of his bedroom walls. you feel just as good as he imagined, all those nights he'd spend jerking off couldn't compare to this one bit. "fuck, i'm 'gonna cum if you squeeze me like that, y/n."

"do it! please, cum inside..." and that only pushes him to give you more. " 'such a good girl, y/n... fuck! 'made for my cock, 'want me to cum, make you my girl, for real?"

"yes, yes, please, your girl, jake!" the aching feeling in your lower-body is satisfied as copious spurts of white coat your insides. "s'warm..." you huff out and jake giggles. "i'm a pretty good fuck, right? 'fucked you dumb?" your arms wrap around him and you plant a chaste kiss on his lips. "shut up, don't ruin the moment."

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guidelines and disclaimers! this took me like 4 days... so too fucking long 😭 anyways she's cute i like her !! i'm sorry if it's a lil lengthy ml

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rebeccathenaturalist · 8 months

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Unsurprisingly, a lot of the commentary I'm seeing about this has been of the "But--but--I would do the same thing because I don't want anything bad to happen to the deer!"

Look. I love wildlife, and I love getting to see deer, coyotes, and even the occasional black bear in my neighborhood. But they are here because there is good habitat nearby with lots of natural food sources, not because I deliberately put out food for them to eat. I respect them as wild animals with whom my relationship is very different compared to the domesticated animals I take care of every day. A deer is not a sheep or a horse; a coyote is not a dog.

People who do things like try to tame deer or, worse yet, try to raise a fawn or other young wildlife like pets are robbing those wild animals of their natural existences. We've already wrought our own preferences on the landscape to a severe degree, tearing the wildness out of it to create lawns and farms and subdivisions and strip malls. When we then dismiss the wildness of these animals and impress our own desire for connection on our terms on them, we are harming them.

I've already written elsewhere about the difference between "tame" and "domesticated". No matter how docile that deer seems, it is never going to be as (relatively) safe and tractable as a domesticated sheep or goat. It will always be more unpredictable, and more likely to lash out suddenly at a person due to fear, or hormones, or protection of young.

These animals need their wild instincts to be intact if they are going to survive without being dependent on us. They need those instincts in order to find mates and keep the gene pool stirred up. Their instincts keep them safe from danger, including humans. And their instincts never totally go away, no matter how much we may try to tame them otherwise.

This is why a good wildlife rehab is going to minimize handling of the wild animals they care for, especially those that are going to be able to be released back into the wild. The less comfortable these animals are with humans, the better their chances of surviving in the wild and having fulfilling, natural lives. Wildlife that retain their wariness of humans are less likely to end up falling prey to hunting, or being killed as nuisance animals when they get too aggressive in seeking food or otherwise coming into conflict with people.

The person who painted "pet" on a fully grown white-tailed buck and put a collar around his neck may have felt like they were doing that deer a kindness, but they have likely robbed him of the chance to just live a natural life as his own, independent being out in the woods and fields. He might be out there, sure, but perhaps he won't mate because he imprinted on humans. Or maybe he will end up shot by a hunter in spite of the precautions because he's just too friendly and those antlers are worth taking the shot.

There will always be something missing from this deer's life because of the arrogance of someone who thought they could own and keep and control a wild-born animal for their own enjoyment, instead of allowing him to come and go as he pleased. Honestly, it reminds me of King Haggard from Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn, whose response to seeing something beautiful was to capture it and keep it rather than simply enjoying and remembering that magical moment:

"I like to watch them. They fill me with joy. The first I felt it I thought I was going to die. I said to the Red Bull I must have them, all of them, all there are. For nothing makes me happy but their shining and their grace. So the Red Bull caught them. Each time I see the unicorns, my unicorns, it is like that morning in the woods and I am truly young, in spite of myself."

That's how I feel about people who are willing to drastically alter a wild animal's behavior for their own selfish benefit, even if they think they're being kind. I know I'm fighting a bit of an uphill battle in this, but I'm rather stubborn that way.

#deer #wildlife #wild animals #nature #animal welfare #animal cruelty #hunting #white tailed deer #zoology #animal behavior #ecology #environment #conservation #wildlife conservation #feeding wildlife #pets #animals #The Last Unicorn

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corroded-hellfire · 3 months

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Fic request idea baby: what about Eddie with a gf who used to have an ED but she's doing better now but he notices that she's starting to relapse like skipping meals and he brings it up to her and just angst to fluff

+ Hey if ur taking requests:

what about if Effie's gf randomly stops changing in front of him like she's getting into pj and she goes to the bathroom and then starts asking for the lights to be off during sex and he's super confused and asks her about it and basically angst bc she's trying to hide it but may be she had a slip during ED recovery?

+ Hi lovie a lil request! What about Eddie with a gf whose in eating disorder recovery like she used to struggle but it's been a few years since then and she's don't just fine but he notices she's starting to relapse?

These three requests seemed to overlap just perfectly. The beautiful and talented @munson-blurbs was kind enough to write these with me so go shower her with all the love 💚

Warnings: eating disorders, body image issues, relapse struggles. Please, if you want or need to talk to somebody, I'm always here.

Words: 1.5k

You’re fairly certain you’re living on the sun’s surface.

Logic would say that you haven’t left Hawkins, but the temperature outside begs to differ.

“Christ, it’s like 1,000 degrees in here,” Eddie mumbles, cracking open a cold can of Pepsi and taking a swig. He plants a kiss on your forehead, careful not to disturb your reading.

You smile but keep your nose buried in the bridal magazine Nancy had bought for you. Page after page of wedding dresses had you swimming in a sea of white, each more beautiful—and expensive—than the last.

Oh, well. At least it would give you an idea of what to look for at your bridal appointment in a few weeks.

What truly caught your eye was an article tucked towards the back of the magazine. Its title boldly declares, “Shedding for the Wedding: Lose that Weight and Look Great!”

You shouldn’t read it. It’ll only upset you, only bring back the bad thoughts and routines and restrictions that you’d fought so hard to overcome. And yet you’re drawn to it, eyes scanning each fad diet for one that might help you.

No. Yes. No. Yes. Put the magazine down. Stop reading the diet tips and comparing yourself to the models.

But they’re so pretty and so skinny. If Eddie saw them, he might not even want to marry you anymore. Not when he saw how beautiful women were supposed to look in wedding dresses.

Maybe losing a few pounds wouldn’t hurt. One diet couldn’t be so bad. It would be temporary, just until the wedding.

It was totally fine.

“What are we thinking for dinner tonight, babe?” Eddie rifles through the pantry and pulls out two boxes of pasta. “We have bowties and rigatoni. I’m personally more of a bowtie man myself, but it’s your call.”

You shake your head. “I’m good. Just gonna have some soup.” Reaching around him, you pluck a can of Progresso off of the shelf.

“Soup?” Eddie wrinkles his nose in confusion. “It’s hotter than Satan’s tits outside.”

You shrug, trying to play it off casually. “Period craving.”

“You’re not on your period.”

“Well, PMS.”

Something nags at you—if you have to hide your new soup diet from your husband-to-be, maybe it’s not a good idea. Maybe you should put the can away and make pasta instead. But then you remember those gorgeous models, so svelte and sculpted and perfect.

Soup it is.

It’s harder to ignore the problem as more symptoms of the illness start to return. The first time you’d gathered up your pajamas and taken them into the bathroom with you, Eddie just assumed you were going to take a shower. When you emerged with bone-dry hair not two minutes later, he was puzzled. But he didn’t say anything, not wanting to come across as overprotective or overbearing. Maybe there was some simple excuse and he didn’t want to make you feel like you have to answer to him about every little thing.

Eddie can’t ignore that there’s a problem anymore when you slip back into one of your old habits that has always broken his heart. Sex was now lights off and you kept your shirt on. Eddie wanted to see every part of you, touch every part of you. He was going to be your husband and the fact that you didn’t want him to see this part of you—that he has made very clear in the past that he fucking loves—disheartens him.

Stress begins to build up within Eddie. He feels like he’s toeing the line because he doesn’t want to sound accusatory, but he also knows something is going on with you. And he has a pretty good idea of what it is. You try to hide how you pinch at your stomach and thighs, but he sees. The way you measure your wrists with your fingers all throughout the day. He wonders if you even realize you’re doing it, or if it’s reflexive at this point.

Though you never mention it, you always have your green journal around the kitchen. Eddie respects your privacy enough not to go through it, but reaching for the keys over your shoulder one evening he notices that you’re making a list of what you’ve eaten that day. His stomach sinks as yet another familiar pattern emerges from the days when your disorder was at its worst. Your fiancé is coming closer to his breaking point and he still doesn’t know what to do or even who to go to about this.

The final straw though is when you turn down girls’ night with Nancy and Robin at the Cheesecake Factory. You lived for nights out with your two best friends. They knew you almost as well as Eddie did though, so he knew you wouldn’t be able to sit down at a restaurant with them and bullshit your way out of not eating a proper meal like you should.

Eddie knows now he has to say something. Anything, really. When you walk out of your shared bedroom in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, Eddie chews on his bottom lip as he mentally prepares for the conversation he knows needs to happen.

The moment you sit down on the couch, Eddie sits next to you. You reach for the remote but your hand doesn’t even make it to the piece of plastic before Eddie speaks.

“Can we, um, talk?”

“About what?” you ask, sitting back against the couch cushions.

Your fiancé leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He rubs his hands together and his tongue pokes out of his pouty pink lips like it does whenever he’s concentrating on something.

“I’m worried about you, babe,” he finally says. “You’re not yourself.”

Eddie doesn’t miss the way you reflexively shrink in on yourself.

“I’m just stressed with wedding stuff,” you say.

“That’s why you didn’t hang out with Nancy and Robin?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Mhm.”

“And all the pinching and not eating and not wanting me to see you naked? Is that because of wedding stress, too?”

You turn away from him and pull your knees to your chest, but he moves to face you again. “Baby, I know something’s wrong. And the last time I saw you like this, it was because…”

“I told you, I’m fine,” you snap. “I’m just stressed. Maybe if you spent more time helping me plan and less time planning stupid campaigns for a game you played back in high school, you’d understand.”

The accusation is unfair, and you know it. Sure, you’ve been doing most of the planning, but he’s been there every step of the way.

Eddie winces at your harsh tone. He looks like he has a rebuttal but gives up after a moment “Fine. Let’s just go to bed.”

Guilt from your outburst wracks your body and holds sleep hostage. After tossing and turning for a little while, you hear soft cries coming from Eddie’s side of the bed.

“Eds?” Your heart leaps into your chest. “What’s going on?” You give him a hug from behind, latching on like a koala to a tree trunk until he turns to face you.

Even in the darkness, you can see the way his eyes shine with tears. “I know you relapsed and…and I don’t know what to do,” he manages through his sobs. “I don’t know how to help, so I just stand there like a goddamn idiot, but I can’t keep pretending like nothing’s wrong! I can’t keep pretending that you’re not hurting yourself!”

He knew. The whole time you thought you’d been protecting him from the truth, and he knew.

You wipe at his cheeks, feeling the moisture on your palms. “I’m sorry.”

Eddie shakes his head. “‘S not your fault, I know it’s not, but…you need to get help for this. I can’t lose my girl.” He presses his lips to your forehead and lets them linger there, holding you as tightly as he can. “Please. Please.”

No. You need to lose weight. You need to look good; no, perfect in your dress. All eyes are going to be on you, and you can’t show a single flaw.

The argument sits on your tongue, defensiveness ready to spring into action. But then you see his brokenness, his vulnerability as he unabashedly wears his heart on his sleeve.

Skinny. Skinnier. Skinniest.

But then—Eddie.

Eddie, who laid his heart out for you. Who let down the walls he’d spent years building just so he could receive your love. Who felt your pain despite your best attempts to shield him from it.

Maybe you weren’t ready to get better for yourself, but until you were, you could do it for him.

You nod, pulling back and kissing him softly. “I will. I promise. First thing tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll wake you up the moment the sun rises.”

At this, you have to let out a small laugh. “The therapy clinic doesn’t open until nine.”

Eddie cradles your face in his calloused palms, leaning in to gently kiss your nose. “Then I’ll wake you up at nine.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #request

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andvys · 11 months

Text

We're no good alone | S.H. & E.M.

Part two of It's just us

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact! rough smut, threesome, spanking, choking, manhandling, mentions of unrequited love and heartbreak, mentions of cheating, slight angst, fluff, happy ending

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader | Eddie Munson x fem!reader | slight Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Summary: As you and Steve put your rivalry aside, you grow closer and closer and take another step forward when Steve befriends the man who once broke your heart. @mysticmunson thank you for the idea with the polaroid picture!

Word count: 14k+

Author's note: I'm not too sure about this but I didn't just write 14k words for nothing so I hope you're gonna like it

Read the prequel story about Eddie x reader here -> For me it's always you (more parts coming soon)

stranger things masterlist

Feel free to send in requests for drabbles/blurbs for this fic!

This has to be one of the weirdest days in your life, first you hooked up with Steve after finding out that your boyfriend had cheated on you with his girlfriend and now you are sitting at Benny’s diner, sharing fries with him and drinking vanilla milkshakes as though it’s the most normal thing for you both to do. It’s not. You hate each other’s guts, you always did. The rivalry had already started in middle school and carried on until now.

You were disgusted by everything he said and done and yet that didn’t stop you from having sex with him. You let him take out his frustrations on you and he let you too, it was merely hate fucking, that’s all. Right?

It felt good, he made you feel good. You needed it after what you had run into a few days back.

You never thought that Jonathan would do this to you, that he would hurt you like this but it seems like every guy that you want, doesn’t actually want you. It’s not the first time you have been hurt by men like him, he wasn’t the first.

He may not know it but he ripped open wounds that you had gotten before him.

Why aren’t you enough for them?

What does she have that you don’t have?

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop thinking those thoughts,” Steve sighs.

“How would you know what I’m thinking about?” You snap at him, rolling your eyes.

He chuckles, shaking his head at you, he dips his fries into the ketchup, taking his time to answer the question, he eats the fries and drinks his milkshake.

You have to admit, he looks pretty. His hair is messy from all your tugging, his cheeks are flushed, his eyes are filled with.. peace? For someone who just got cheated on, he looks awfully relaxed and content.

“It’s because I’m thinking them too,” he admits, “but don’t think that you aren’t enough, y/n. You are enough.”

You brows knit together, you stare at him without saying anything.

His hazel eyes flash with something unrecognizable, he smiles a little, “anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“You’re just saying that,” you mumble as you play with your straw, “you have to say that.”

“It’s the truth. I know you hate me but I’m not lying to you,” he shrugs, clearing his throat, he looks away from you, suddenly too shy to hold eye contact, “we might not get along but you’re not that bad, you know? You’ve been a good girlfriend to him, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you being annoying or mean with him, like you’re with me,” he chuckles, eyes raking over your body, “plus, you’re like really hot and pretty and way out of his league.”

A smirk tugs at your lips, his cheeks grow more red as he continues to look anywhere but at you.

“Does someone have a little crush on me?”

He rolls his eyes, “shut up, no I don’t.”

He used to have a crush on you, actually, he was pretty sure he was frozen in place the first time he saw you. 12 year old Steve was pretty sure that he was in love with the pretty girl that just moved to Hawkins after her parents decided to come back from the big city. He liked you but he sure had a funny way of showing it, instead of befriending you like he should have, he pulled at your pigtails and shoved you around.

You giggle as he glares at you. Leaning back in your seat, you look him up and down, “you’re not too bad either but I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

He scrunches his face up in confusion, furrowing his brows, “we literally just fucked at the party and then you made me stop the car because you wanted to suck my dick.”

“That was in the past,” you say, blushing.

“That was 20 minutes ago, you let me cum inside you.”

“Well you bend me over the car.”

“Because you asked me to!”

“I like your dick, it’s really big.”

A sharp gasp makes you tear your eyes away from his, looking up, you find a middle aged lady looking at the two of you in disgust. The cross necklace around her neck clutched in her hand, she looks at you in disgust, frowning as she looks between you both.

“Sinners!” She sputters before she continues walking, glancing at you one more time with a horrified expression on her face.

You and Steve look back at each other, only being able to contain the laughter for a few seconds before you burst out laughing. His hazel eyes are filled with amusement, he puts his hand on his stomach as he leans back, “did you see her face?”

You nod, still laughing at the older lady.

“I think she’s gonna go pray for us now,” you giggle.

“It’s no use, we’re already sinners,” Steve snorts.

The ring above the door sounds through the diner, you look behind Steve’s shoulder almost instantly. Your smile falls when your eyes lock with those brown eyes. For a moment he stares at you, not moving, he just stands there and looks at you.

Steve straightens up, face growing serious when he sees the annoyance in your eyes and lingering sadness, your brows are furrowed and you glare at whoever it is that you’re looking at. As he turns around he expects it to be Jonathan but instead it’s Eddie Munson who is receiving the death stare from you.

Steve raises his eyebrows in surprise. Now that he knows that you have hooked up with Eddie in the past, he can’t help but wonder what else has happened. Clearly, it wasn’t just casual hookups the way you described it earlier to him, you giggled and mentioned it as though it was nothing meaningful but that was obviously a lie.

Eddie is staring at you with his big puppy dog eyes, while you stare at him with the look that only he ever received in the past.

He tears his eyes away from you and they flash with confusion when he looks at him. Steve can imagine what kinds of questions are running through his mind right now, ‘why is she here with him?’, ‘where are Jonathan and Nancy?’, ‘why are they here together?’

It’s no secret to others that you and Steve don’t get along, the whole school knows about your rivalry.

He looks at you one more time before he finally turns away and walks towards the counter.

Steve turns back to you with a curious look on his face, your arms are crossed, your jaw is clenched and you look out the window, blinking.

“Are you… okay?” Steve asks almost skeptically.

“Don’t act like you care, Harrington,” you snap at him again, giving him the usual bratty attitude.

He sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Can you drive me home?”

“No.”

Your lips part, glaring at him, you scoff, “what do you mean no?”

Steve smirks, “say please and I’ll drive you home.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

You huff angrily, rolling your eyes. It amuses him.

“I can walk home,” you shrug. Getting up, you reach for your purse and smooth down your skirt.

“You think I’ll let you walk home?”

“Well, you said you won’t drive me home,” you counter.

“Just be nicer, jeez.”

“I’m not nice.”

He gets up as well and looks at you as he reaches for his wallet, throwing some money on the table, “did anyone ever tell you that you’re a brat?”

You feel his eyes on you and it’s making your skin crawl. You step closer to Steve, batting your eyelashes at him, “can you please drive me home, Steve?” You ask as you reach for his hand.

His lips curl into a smirk, he knows exactly why you are doing this.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

He places his hand on the small of your back and looks down at you as he leads you out of the diner, you are not looking at him but he is looking at you, with both a frown on his face and confusion. He doesn’t even notice that Steve is looking, he only pays attention to you.

You let out a loud sigh when you step out of the diner, breathing in the fresh air. Neither of you speak up, at least not until you’re back in his car.

“So.. what happened with you and Munson?” Steve asks, watching the way you tense up, “I thought it was just casual hookups.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Eddie Munson was just another boy who broke your heart. Jonathan was the one who put it back together, only to hurt it was well.

You moved on from it, at least you thought you did. Jonathan’s and Nancy’s betrayal wasn’t the only painful memories on your mind the past few days, they also brought you back to him.

Steve tilts his head as he watches you, he will find out what happened.

“So what now?”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, getting more comfortable in his seat, he puts his hand on the steering wheel, running his hand through his hair, he looks at his own expression in the rearview mirror before turning to you.

“You do know that we’re gonna be the laughing stock of the school, right?”

You shrug, furrowing your brows you stare at him like you don’t understand the problem. You don’t care about it, you don’t care that people will laugh at you, that they will make fun of you. That is something Steve always admired about you, you just don’t give a damn about other people, you do and say whatever you want, not caring about what others will think or say.

“I don’t want that.”

You snort, “why would they laugh at you?”

Steve sighs again, eyes flashing with confusion, he brings his hand up to his face, cupping his cheek, “we dated two outcasts, two…–”

“Losers? We dated two losers?” You mumble, nodding, “yes we did, they are fucking losers for what they did.”

“Exactly! We got fucked over by losers, y/n!”

“Oh my god, Harrington, do you seriously care about what people will have to say about it? Do you think that I give a fuck? They can laugh and talk shit, I don’t care. I literally just lost my boyfriend and my best friend!” You say angrily, throwing your hands up as frustrated tears well up in your eyes, “my best friend, Steve! She was with me since we were little! I don’t even care about what he did, I’ll move on from that but her? She was supposed to be my friend.”

His eyes flash with guilt but also with sympathy. He lost her too, a girl he thought he would spend his life with but it must be so much harder for you.

“Y/n..”

“What do you want? Do you want to hurt them? Do you want us to be together so you can get back at them?” You ask, “trust me they won’t fucking care, obviously they’re like in love or something.”

You wipe your tears angrily and slump back in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest, you look out the window, only now noticing the van parked next to you.

“Can you just drive?”

“Yeah.. sure,” he mumbles, finally starting the car. “You think they’re in love?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, rubbing your forehead, “I’m not blind, Steve. I could see the way they looked at each other, I knew it. I just didn’t want to believe it.”

Steve swallows harshly, eyes flashing with sadness, “oh..”

“Yeah, oh.”

He thinks about it, is he hurt by it? A little. Is he heartbroken? Not really. He doesn’t understand it, when he first caught them, he threw up and felt like crying his eyes out but now after what happened with you, he suddenly feels… okay.

The car is filled with silence aside from the music on the radio. Too many things are running through your mind as you drive through the empty streets of Hawkins but you try to focus on something else, you try to focus on the fact that you are here with Steve.

Things should feel awkward between you, especially after what happened at the party and here in his car but it doesn’t, if anything it feels natural, surprisingly. Not that you would ever admit that to yourself.

Kissing him, touching him, having sex with him felt nice. Even sharing fries and spending time with him felt nice, it makes you wonder why you ever hated him in the first place, why he hated you.

You look over at him, staring at his side profile. His chiseled jaw, the light stubble on his skin, his stupid perfect hair. Your eyes trail down to his shoulder, his arm and his hand, his veiny hands.

You lick your lips, Steve is handsome, pretty and sexy. You had never seen his beauty before, not until tonight. Suddenly you feel yourself wanting him more. Not wanting this to be a one time thing.

Nancy is an idiot.

“Steve?”

“Yes?”

“We should be friends.”

His eyes widen, he blinks a few times, lips parting and closing again.

“F-Friends?”

“Mhmm.”

He parks his car in your driveway, staring at your house for a moment, he takes a deep breath and turns to you, “friends?” He asks, pointing his finger between you and him, “you want us to be friends?”

“You literally wanted to fake a relationship–”

“Who said anything about fake?”

“Oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “you and I? We would never work.”

“Why not?” He shrugs.

“Uh– maybe because you hate me and I hate you?”

“I don’t hate you,” he scoffs, “I just hate that little attitude of yours, you need to be put in your place.”

A laugh falls from your lips, “yeah well, you’re not exactly brat tamer material, Steve.”

He smirks, eyes twinkling, “oh so you admit that you’re a brat?”

“No..”

He chuckles at the frown on your face, leaning closer to you, he puts his fingers under your chin, “you know what? I can be your friend but please tell me that we can do all this again.”

You bite your lip and look deeply into his eyes, “please.”

His eyes light up, he brings you closer, looking down at your lips. His nose bumps against yours as he smashes his lips against yours. You respond to the kiss with desperation, throwing your arms around his neck, you bury your hand in his hair.

He moans into the kiss, a sound that is enough to make you shiver again.

“Do you wanna come inside?” You murmur against his lips, pecking them again.

“What about your parents?” Steve asks as he continues to steal kisses from you.

“We’ll have to be quiet,” you breathe.

“Can you be quiet?” He smirks as he kisses your cheek, “wouldn’t want mommy and daddy to catch their good little girl getting ruined by Steve Harrington.”

“Shut up, can you be quiet?”

“Let’s find out.”

Your weekends usually consist of movie nights with Jonathan, Nancy and Steve. Getting food at Benny’s diner, sleepovers with your best friend or a shopping trip to Starcourt mall.

You expected tears of sadness and anger for this weekend but instead you got something else.

After spending the night at your place, he took you back to his house the next day. His parents weren’t home, you got the house to yourselves.

You took your frustrations out on one another, he fucked you on every surface of his house, making you forget about anything that ever hurt you. He marked you up, he kissed every inch of your body, leaving a trail of hickeys down to your chest, you gave him some in return, you worshiped him, making him feel something that she could never make him feel.

Steve fucked you like he hated you, probably because he did but you didn’t mind. You felt good and he made you forget, that’s all you wanted and needed.

You ignored Nancy’s and Jonathan’s calls, you expected them to show up at some point but it seemed as though neither of them were brave enough to actually face you, luckily. You didn’t want to see them and Steve didn’t either.

You stayed at his house for two days. Your usual movie night was different this time, Jonathan and Nancy weren’t there and thank god they weren’t. Making out with Steve and riding him on his big sofa was better than watching some stupid movie and cuddling up to your lying, cheating, partners.

You even made use of the polaroid that Steve bought but never really used before.

To say that you had fun this weekend would be an understatement.

But of course, you still hate each other.

When you walked down the hallways at school this morning, all eyes were on you and Steve. For the first time, you walked together, side by side.

It was no secret that you hated each other, you were often found bickering during class, at the cafeteria during lunch and in the hallways. But there you were, walking next to him in your cheerleader uniform, hair perfectly styled and makeup looking pretty on your face, a bright smile resting on your face as you looked up at King Steve, who gave you a cocky smile as he carried your books.

The hickeys on your neck were perfectly on display as were his.

You almost burst out laughing when people started whispering, pointing to the two of you. It was a scandal.

You and Steve had fun with it, especially when you caught the eyes of Nancy and Jonathan, who both stared at you in confusion before they disappeared in a classroom.

You enjoyed the attention and so did he, you were amused by it.

You couldn’t help but wonder what they would react like if you walked hand in hand, while stealing kisses from each other.

Maybe someday..

He should be paying attention to class, he really should but his mind is occupied by you. After spending a whole weekend with you, he had a sudden change of heart. His feelings had developed into something else and it confuses him.

He should be hurt, heartbroken and in agonizing pain. He should be crying and pining after the girl that he thought he loved so much but instead his thoughts are elsewhere.

Maybe you fucked the pain out of him.

He sighs, looking down at his notes, he finds the page blank, he will have to steal them from Robin again.

He looks around, eyes falling on the man that intrigues him ever since he had learned about your little affair. He tried to find out more about your past with Eddie but you always shut down, refusing to talk about it. You seemed hurt, just hearing his name made you tense up. What happened?

You seemed less hurt by Jonathan’s actions than by Eddie’s. What did he do?

“You’ll be working in pairs for this assignment, you can pick your partner.”

Steve looks around, staring at people switching seats. Then his eyes fall back on Eddie, who remains in his seat with his head down.

Grabbing his books, he gets up and walks towards him, settling in the free seat next to him, he slams the books on the table, startling the metalhead who looks up at him in confusion.

“W-What are you doing?” He mumbles, eying Steve with shock on his face, a hint of suspicion in his eyes, like he expects to be jumped by him.

Steve chuckles, “we gotta work in pairs,” he shrugs.

“I always work alone.”

“Well, today you aren’t,” Steve says.

Eddie continues to stare at him with raised brows, looking around, he almost expects someone from the basketball team to stare at him with smirks and anticipated looks on their faces as they wait for the King to pull some sort of prank but no one even looks at him.

“Okay,” he mumbles, turning back again.

“Relax buddy, I just wanna work with you.”

“Why?” Eddie mumbles grumpily.

Steve shrugs, “I just do.”

“Yeah, you expect me to believe that?”

Steve rolls his eyes, he can’t blame Eddie, he doesn’t have it easy at school but he never did anything to him, he can be an asshole but he is no bully.

“Whatever, man. Let’s just work on this assignment.”

“What’s the assignment?” Eddie asks.

Steve shrugs, “I don’t know.”

Eddie huffs, throwing his pencil on his notebook, “aren’t you trying to graduate this year?”

“Aren’t you trying to graduate again?” Steve counters as he slams his notebook open, forgetting about the pictures he had slipped in there earlier. It falls on Eddie’s lap, who looks down at it, eyes widening.

Eddie takes the picture, he stares at it in surprise. His lips part in shock. It’s a picture of someone’s boobs. It’s not a challenge to figure out who’s body this is, he had definitely seen and touched it before, he is pretty sure he has a picture of them too, somewhere.

He can’t see a face or hair in this picture, only the neck and the chest that is littered in hickeys and bite marks, a hand on the lower stomach, fingernails painted black, a pink skirt bunched up at the waist, nipple piercings.

It’s you.

His stomach drops, his eyes flash with anger and jealousy, he doesn’t want it to be you.

Steve watches him in anticipation, he might have done it on purpose, wanting to find out how the metalhead would react to it.

Eddie pushes the picture into Steve’s hand, looking up at him, “who’s that?”

The look on Eddie’s face is almost comical to Steve, his nostrils are flared, lips set in a frown as he stares at him with jealousy in his eyes. Shouldn’t he be used to it already? You’ve been dating Jonathan. Did he ever glare at him? Did he ever stare at him with anger and jealousy on his face? Steve wishes that he would have paid attention to Eddie before.

Steve chuckles in amusement. Putting the picture back into the notebook, he turns to one of the nerds, asking about the assignment.

“Harrington,” Eddie hisses, “who is it?” He asks, despite knowing the answer already. Everything about the picture just tells him that it is you, from the shape of your body to the pink skirt you have worn before.

Eddie continues bugging him throughout the whole lesson, he should be focusing on the assignment but he can’t get the picture out of his mind.

“I thought you’d be able to recognize her,” Steve says smugly, “given that you two have fucked before.”

Eddie wants to ask and say so many things but he is shocked and confused.

Steve is dating Nancy.

You are dating Jonathan.

You hate Steve Harrington, at least you always said you did, was it all just a lie?

Eddie storms out of the classroom the moment the bell rings, he rushes out into the hallway, leaving a smug looking Steve behind.

Skipping the last period seemed to be the best decision to make, it’s the one class you share with both Jonathan and Nancy, you don’t feel like seeing either of them, it’s been difficult enough to avoid them all day.

Sitting on the ground at the library, you’re flipping through the pages of some random book about nature, you tried reading something but your mind is just too occupied by other things, you can’t focus.

“Hey.”

You freeze at the sound of his voice. You raise your head slowly. Eddie Munson. You can’t even remember the last time you had talked to him and you wish it would have stayed that way, you don’t want to talk to him, in fact, you would even rather talk to Jonathan and Nancy, that’s how bad it is.

“What do you want?”

“Can we talk?”

“No?” You snort, rolling your eyes at him, you shake your head in disbelief, looking back down at the book, you flip to the next page, pretending to read.

He sighs, “please?”

“Fuck off, Munson,” you mumble, “you should go before someone sees you with a popular cheerleader, don’t wanna ruin your perfect reputation.”

Eddie scoffs, huffing in annoyance.

“You’re still pissed about that?”

“No, I’m just saying,” you mumble as you slam the book shut and throw it to the ground before you get up, reaching for your book, you walk into the other direction, not bothering to even look at him but Eddie has different plans. He rushes after you, moving in front of you to keep you from walking away.

All he gets is an annoyed look before you turn the other way but he is quick to push you against the bookshelf, caging you against it.

“Are you serious? Let me go!” You whisper, trying to push him away.

He shakes his head stubbornly, looking into your eyes intently.

“What the fuck do you want from me, Munson?”

“Are you still mad at me?”

Your eyes show nothing but anger but you pretend not to be, “no, I just don’t feel like talking to you.”

Eddie Munson broke your heart, hurting you with harsh words and pushing you away just when you had confessed your love for him.

“You’re fucking Harrington?” He asks, completely ignoring your answer.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that the look in his eyes is one of jealousy and anger. They flicker down to your neck, staring at all the hickeys on your skin, recognition flashing in his dark eyes.

“That’s what you wanna talk to me about?” You scoff.

You really wanna keep your cool, show him that you left him behind in the past, where he belongs. You hate him. You hate him more than you hate Jonathan who cheated on you, something that you thought would rip your heart out, surprisingly it didn’t but maybe that’s because Eddie had done it for him long before.

What does he even want from you? He hasn’t spoken to you since the night he left you standing in the rain. He was the reason you started dating Jonathan in the first place, you found comfort in him when he had found you crying behind the school weeks after your fallout with Eddie, he comforted you, placed his jacket around your shoulders and asked if you wanted to listen to a tape he had just made.

Jonathan was sweet, he loved music and driving around, taking you to the movies. He did what Eddie used to do, maybe that’s why you liked him so much. He filled the hole that he had left behind.

Something about Eddie has changed, not only do you see a new tattoo peeking out of his shirt, his hair also got longer, he uses a different cologne now, he probably stopped using Wayne’s cologne or maybe Wayne changed his and Eddie is still stealing it. New pins are on his vest and he seems more mature. You know that he is still the same dork as before, still joking around with his friends like a young and careless teen, he still jumps on tables and holds speeches knowing that he will get shit for it afterwards but there is something in his eyes that had changed. A flicker of sadness and emptiness that wasn’t there before.

You haven’t been this close to him since the last year and you hate yourself for admitting that you miss him.

You always missed him. You used to feel awful for still thinking about him when Jonathan kissed you, when he touched you or even when he just held your hand, you always thought about him. The last weekend was the first time that you haven’t thought about him, not even a single moment.

Jonathan couldn’t make you forget but Steve did.

“You’re dating Byers,” he mumbles, “and you’re fucking your best friend’s boyfriend?”

So, word hasn’t gotten around yet? You’re surprised, considering you told Heather about it, not that she’s much on gossip but she tends to have a loose mouth when she’s drunk.

“And so what if I do?” You ask, tilting your head. You don’t miss the look in his eyes when he stares at your lips for a moment.

“That’s not you, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart, god you want to rip your hair out.

“And what do you know about me?” You ask, clenching your jaw angrily.

He grimaces at your question, stepping even closer to you, “I know everything about you.”

“No, you don’t,” you shake your head, “now back off.”

Eddie hesitates, what reason would he have to talk to you? What right does he have to ask you any questions? He was the one who pushed you out of his life, he was the one who rejected you, he was the one who didn’t want you. What a lie. God, you will never know how much he really wanted you, how much he still wants you.

He felt like a goddamn fool when he saw you with Jonathan Byers, knowing that he could’ve been the one by your side, if he wasn’t so scared.

He steps away and drops his arm to his sides, eyes flashing with sadness as you quickly pull away from him. His gaze follows you.

You halt in your tracks, taking a deep breath before you whirl around to face him again. You cannot stand him and his stupid puppy eyes. He looks at you as though you were the one who hurt him.

“To answer your question, no, I’m not with Jonathan anymore and I didn’t fuck my best friend’s boyfriend, she fucked mine. Steve caught them and the next day I caught them as well.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, he looks shocked and confused.

“W-What?” He mumbles in disbelief, “shit, sweetheart. I’m sorry–”

“Save it, Munson,” you scoff, looking away from him as your eyes well up with angry tears.

“Who would cheat on you..”

What is that supposed to mean? Wasn’t he the one who made you feel like you weren’t enough for him?

“Yeah and who would ever hurt me?” You ask as you plaster a smile on your face. The guilty look on his face makes you mad. “Whatever, I seem to be going for the wrong guys all the time.”

He whispers your name.

“But that’s fine, I guess I learnt my lesson,” you shrugs, “I should look for ones that are just as stuck up and boring as me, huh?”

He looks down, feeling ashamed of the words he used to hurt you.

You leave after a moment, storming out of the library. You want to leave him behind just like you want to leave Nancy and Jonathan behind.

But it turns out to be a challenge. You and Steve continue your newly found friendship. Weeks go by and after a few confrontations with your ex partners, they finally leave you alone. You no longer want to resume your friendship with Nancy, she cried and apologized to you, telling you that she didn’t want to lose you but she didn’t do much to prove it, especially when she just started dating your ex boyfriend.

Moving on will never be easy but you have him now. You and Steve still fight, you still use every opportunity to piss him off and in return, he does the same. You love making each other mad, you love heated arguments, ones that lead to sex.

You sneak out of class just to make out with him in the bathroom. Every time he throws you a note, you can feel his excited eyes on you but also the one’s of Eddie, who seemed to be interested to make a comeback in your life.

Not that you will ever let him.

You are focused on other things. Cheer practice, studying, girls nights with friends from the cheer squad and most importantly spending time with King Steve.

You found comfort in each other, maybe you were just no good alone but you like being around him. What starts off with a weird friendship with your enemy ends up developing into something bigger. A few months back you couldn’t even stand being around each other for longer than 10 minutes, now you can’t be without each other. Steve is surprisingly a really clingy guy and you don’t mind it.

After using your parents money to book a vacation, you spend your spring break on the east coast, using fake IDs to buy drinks and using Mr. Harrington’s credit card to rent a yacht. You both have wealthy parents, might as well use their money to have fun.

When Steve had suggested going on that trip, you didn’t expect to come back as his girlfriend but you did and for some insane reason, you love it.

A part of you still struggles to trust his intentions but you still agreed on becoming his.

What’s more insane is the fact that Steve had somehow befriended Eddie. Out of all people he could’ve started a friendship with, it of course had to be the guy that broke your heart. Apparently they had worked on an assignment together and ‘hit it off’. You should be pissed but he doesn’t really know what happened with you and him and you cannot blame him for liking him, Eddie is.. amazing. And Steve deserves to have more friends.

After cutting off Tommy a while back, Steve only really had Nancy, Jonathan and well you. Robin Buckley was one of his friends as well but they only ever hung out at work together, only having brief conversations at school.

For two months, he followed you around like a lost puppy after the breakup with Nancy. Spending lunch with you and your cheer squad instead of hanging out with the guys from the basketball team, why? You will never know, maybe it had something to do with his dislike for Jason Carver or Billy Hargrove but Steve preferred to stick to your side, that is until he and Eddie became friends.

You are not sure which one of them is playing a game though, is it Eddie who uses your boyfriend to sneak his way back into your life? Or is it your boyfriend himself, who is trying to test you to see if there are any remaining feelings left for his new friend?

You did tell him a little about your past but you didn’t want to give away too much, not wanting to admit that he hurt you as much as he did. Steve isn’t stupid though, it wasn’t difficult for him to figure out that what you felt for Eddie was deeper than you wanted to admit.

It also really wasn’t a challenge to figure out that you started dating Jonathan in hopes that he could be like him.

Maybe, he should feel insecure, feel scared and worried that he might lose you to another man just like he lost Nancy but your feelings for him are genuine, even when your mind keeps taking you back to the other man. He can see it in your eyes, though you still act stubborn at times and pretend that he doesn’t mean that much to you, he knows it’s all just an act.

You love Steve in a way Nancy couldn’t and he loves you in a way Jonathan couldn’t.

But there is also someone else that loves you and despite his jealous nature, Steve doesn’t mind it, as odd as it is.

The more time he spends with him, the more he finds a liking towards Eddie, much to your demise. You don’t mind it, you just hate being around him.

It’s been easy to ignore him and his puppy dog eyes at first but once he realized that he is not getting any of your attention, he suddenly became a menace. He went from being apologetic to annoying, real quick.

He uses every opportunity to tease you, making sly comments and trying to flirt with you and Steve doesn’t even seem to mind, if anything, he finds it amusing. Watching his new friend getting on your nerves and getting the treatment from you that only he usually gets.

You should be mad at Steve for letting Eddie treat you like this but you can’t, not when you like it deep down.

Eddie stole the spot that used to belong to Steve, now he is your annoying 'enemy'.

Wherever Steve goes, Eddie goes. Just like tonight.

A date night with your boyfriend turns into one with Eddie as well.

Sitting on Steve’s lap, you play with his hair, occasionally turning to look at the other man in the room, who smokes his blunt and drinks his beer as he talks to Steve about his stupid band that you used to love.

Steve’s large hand is resting on your hip, playing with the soft material of your skirt as he nods along to Eddie’s words.

“Babe,” you cut Eddie off, not even sparing him a glance as you look at your boyfriend, “are you ever gonna order that pizza?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him, “I’m getting hungry and bored.”

Steve sighs, “don’t be rude, he was talking.”

“Who?” You feign, giving him a confused look. Smiling in satisfaction when you hear Eddie mumbling something under his breath.

You smile at him as you lean in to kiss his neck. He takes in a sharp breath, hand gripping your hip tighter causing your skirt to ride up a little. He can’t help but look over at Eddie to see his reaction, just as expected, Eddie is staring at you with such intensity in his eyes that it makes Steve shiver.

“Baby,” he warns but you don’t listen. You never do.

Eddie is both jealous and angry, though he admires the view, staring at your exposed skin as Steve touches your hip.

Steve raises his eyebrows, opening his mouth to speak but before he can even form a word, you smash your lips against his, kissing him roughly.

His eyes widen in surprise but he can’t even stop the moan from falling. You throw your leg over his lap and straddle him, placing your hands on his neck and deepen the kiss as your tongue meets his.

Eddie swallows harshly, placing his blunt down, he tightens his grip on the bottle. His jaw clenches and his eyes flash with anger and jealousy. You are doing this on purpose, to taunt him.

He likes Steve but right now, he hates him for being able to touch and kiss you like this, wishing it was him instead. He leans back against the sofa, eyes trailing down to your ass that Steve is squeezing roughly as he starts making out with you. Your skirt rides up further, exposing the black thong that you’re wearing. You’re rolling your hips, grinding against your boyfriend as you moan into his mouth.

Eddie clenches his hand into a fist, tensing up, he shifts around, uncomfortably, your moans and whimpers sounding like music to his ears. His breath hitches in his throat when you whisper a small ‘please’.

He would love nothing more than to be in Steve’s place right now. To hold you and kiss you.

Steve pulls away with a groan, “behave yourself.”

A giggle leaves your lips and after pecking his lips one more time, you pull away and settle back on the couch, smirking at the bulge in your boyfriend’s jeans.

He blushes, running his fingers through his hair, he gets up, trying to hide the obvious tent in his pants, “I’m gonna order the pizza,” he mumbles as he rushes out of the living room without looking at Eddie.

You look at the tv for a moment before your eyes find Eddie’s. He is glaring at you. You smile in satisfaction, raising your hand, you look at your freshly manicured fingernails as you begin to hum some song.

Eddie is seething, this is not the first time you had kissed Steve in front of him but usually it was nothing more than a peck.

He scoffs as he raises the bottle to his lips. Right now, he can’t stand you.

He can’t stand the way you look so pretty, the way you sit there looking so innocent after what you just did. He hates the way the room smells like your sweet perfume despite the lingering smoke in the air. He hates the way you hate him.

He reaches for the blunt, placing it between his lips, he lights it up with the lighter that Steve threw on the table earlier.

You look at him, tilting your head, “what’s wrong?” You ask him sweetly.

He screws up his face, shrugging, “nothing.”

You get up and his eyes widen when you walk towards him. He stares at the way your skirt hugs your body perfectly, the way your top slides up your stomach a little, exposing some of your skin, you’re not wearing a bra, he can see your nipple piercings. You lick your puffy lips and lean down in front of him, placing your hand on his knee, you reach for the blunt between his lips.

He gulps, eyes growing wider and breath hitching in his throat. He licks his lips, staring into your eyes as you inhale the smoke.

Eddie can’t even help it, he leans closer to you, placing his hand over yours, his fingertips trace your skin.

You look down for a second, staring at his hand and at his rings, your gaze softens for a moment and then you look back into his eyes.

He whispers your name, you blink, eyes falling down to his lips.

But it all just lasts for a second before you place the blunt back between his lips and walk away from him. Sitting back down on the sofa and looking away with a clenched jaw.

“Sweetheart–”

“Don’t.”

Steve walks back into the room, sensing the tension right away. He looks between the two of you, noticing the anger in your eyes and the longing in his.

He sighs, trying to lighten the mood, he smiles at you, “pizza is on the way,” he says as he settles back next to you, “you wanna watch Halloween now?”

“Sure..”

The graduation party is finally over, you no longer have to listen to the awful pop music, red solo cups are all over the place. Steve’s house is a mess. You’re both lucky that his parents aren’t home until the end of next week.

The night started off well, you got ready in his bathroom, had a few drinks before the party even started and made out with him on one of the pool loungers before the guest started coming in.

Now you’re seething, rolling your eyes at him and scoffing at whatever he is saying as you’re cleaning up the mess. It’s silly, you have to admit and you know you’re acting like a brat for no reason but getting the piss out of him will just always be your thing.

You’re proud of him, you really are. He made it, he graduated, got his diploma and he is free to do whatever he wants now. He doesn’t have to go back to high school, he doesn’t have to see Nancy or Jonathan again. You’re just so scared that he will leave you behind, walk away from you and pretend like you were never a part of his life.

Maybe you are overthinking it, maybe you are just hurt from the men before or maybe you are simply broken.

But right now, you’re angry, especially after seeing one of the girls trying to flirt with him. He didn’t pay her any mind, he didn’t even smile at her or react to the way she was eying him up and down, he politely rejected her and pushed her hand off of his arm and yet it pissed you off, why did he let her get this close in the first place?

“Asshole.”

“Excuse me?” Steve scoffs as he watches you rush past him.

“You heard me!” You snap at him as you slam the door open and walk towards the counter, slamming your red solo cups down, you turn around and open the fridge, getting yourself a cold coke.

“Why am I an asshole?” He asks with a confused and angry face, closing the door to the luckily empty kitchen.

“You let that bitch touch you!” You yell as you close the fridge, glaring at your boyfriend.

Steve knows that this isn’t the only thing that caused this sudden outburst, you have been acting weird and sensitive for the past few weeks.

“Honey,” he mumbles as he takes a deep breath, putting his hands together he walks towards you, “I pushed her hand off, I didn’t even talk to her!”

You clench your jaw, tearing your gaze away from him, you sigh angrily, “yes, you did.”

Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knows that you won’t just drop it, you’re gonna mop around and continue trying to get on his nerves.

“Jesus, I didn’t.”

You stare at him with fire in your eyes. Oh, you’re mad, mad. He knows that there is more behind your anger, it’s not just about that girl, you’re not even the jealous type or maybe you are, maybe you were just too good at hiding it before.

Steve shakes his head, walking towards you, he tries to reach out for you but you push his hands away, “just go to your new girlfriend, you seemed to like staring at her fucking tits.”

You both know that he wasn’t staring at her tits, in fact, he wasn’t staring at her at all. He looked uncomfortable and glanced at you, reaching for your hand, he pulled you in and placed his hand on the small of your back, you were there the whole time. He wasn’t staring, he wasn’t flirting, he wasn’t doing anything.

“Jesus christ,” he sighs in annoyance, rolling his eyes, “are you really starting this again?”

“Starting what?” You frown, crossing your arms over your chest.

Steve’s eyes fall to your chest, staring at your tits.

“Starting some stupid fight just so I will fuck your brains out.”

You tilt your head, scoffing, “why would I want you to fuck me?” You ask him, as though he isn’t your boyfriend, as though you don’t beg for his touches, as though you aren’t obsessed with him.

“Oh, so you’re gonna act like you’re not obsessed with me?”

You scoff, giving him a disapproving look, “trust me, I’m not obsessed with you.”

He rolls his eyes at your words, stepping closer to you, “you’re such a brat,” he says as he places his hands on his hips, looking up at the ceiling.

“You’re the brat, Harrington.”

He looks back down at you with darkened eyes. The pout on your face is cute but the mischief in your eyes irritates him.

“What do you want, honey?”

You shrug, biting your lip, you eye him up and down. Grabbing him by his belt, you pull him closer to you. Instantly, his hands reach for your waist and he pulls you flush against him. Standing on your tippy toes, you lean in and give him a kiss, “I want you to stop being a dick.”

He looks into your eyes and raises his brows, he grabs your jaw, “oh, I’m a dick now?”

“Mhmm, yes you are,” you nod, “you’re a dick, Steve Harrington.”

“And you’re kind of a bitch, honey.”

“No, I’m not. You’re just a real asshole.”

“You always need the last word, don’t you?”

You nod, “you know me.”

He shakes his head, tracing your bottom lip, he looks deeply into your eyes, “tell me, what’s your actual problem? Be honest with me.”

You hesitate. You’re scared of something, he can see it in your eyes. That fear has been there for some weeks now.

Your relationship was just two months old, things were still new for the two of you. You went from disliking each other to loving each other, sure, it was weird for you but not for him. Once he touched you for the first time, he easily grew addicted to you and he found himself wondering why he never went after you instead of Nancy, in the first place.

“You’re leaving me,” you say with fear in your eyes and anger in your voice.

He frowns at your words, staring at you in confusion, “huh?”

“You’re leaving me,” you repeat yourself as you cross your arms over your chest again, pouting at him like a pissed off brat, “you’re leaving me alone with all these assholes.”

Just as you and Steve finally found your way to each other, his time at school is over while you stay for one more year, you are not ready to let him go.

“Oh,” he mumbles, finally understanding what you are talking about, he rolls his eyes at your words and sighs, “I’m not leaving you, honey. I only graduated and the last time I checked, you’re the one who’s leaving me next year, while you go off to college, I’ll stay here and wait for you.”

You squint your eyes at him, “are you?” You counter, tilting your head up, “are you waiting for me or are you gonna find someone else to fuck?”

He scoffs at you, glaring into your eyes, “fuck? Is that all we’re doing here? Fucking?”

You shrug. Maybe. The anxiety of him wanting to do this just to get back at her still lingers.

“Oh my god,” he murmurs, staring at you in disbelief, “baby, you’re my girl. I want you, no one else.”

Your heart flutters at his words, taking the tension off your shoulders a little but you aren’t done yet.

“What about Nancy? Do you still want her?”

He doesn’t understand where this is all coming from, he shakes his head, eyes widening, “no!” He cups your cheeks, “I don’t! Why would I still want her? I want you, only you even though you’re a fucking brat and you get on my nerves all the damn time but fuck, you’re it for me.”

If your past selves could see the two of you now, they would be mortified.

You believe him, you really do. You want to kiss him and hug him, lay your head on his chest and apologize but still, you roll your eyes and look away.

You look away from his hazel eyes, staring at your manicured nails, you shrug, a small sigh leaving your lips.

Steve’s shoulders slump, he loves you but you are so irritating sometimes.

“Trouble in paradise?”

Looking over Steve’s shoulder, you see Eddie standing there with a smug look on his face. He walks towards you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You drop your arms to your sides and step away from your boyfriend, sighing in annoyance.

Right, you forgot that your boyfriend’s boyfriend is still here.

Steve looks intrigued, he wants to see what will happen if Eddie takes his teasing a little further.

You cross your arms over your chest and turn away from both men but Eddie grabs your arm, holding you back, he steps in front of you, “where are you going, sweetheart?” He asks, grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

You furrow your brows, glaring at him, “away from you.”

He coos at you, pouting at your words, “I see, nothing changed. You’re still a fucking brat.”

You scoff at his words, slapping his hand off of you, you clench your jaw in anger. How dare he touch you?

His dark eyes stare into yours, he leans closer, eying your lips for a moment, “poor King Steve doesn’t know how to handle you, huh? He doesn’t know how to put you in your place?” He asks as he reaches his hand out to touch your face, caressing your cheek softly. “He can’t do it like I can, right?”

You blink as you stare into his eyes, shivering at the feeling of his touch and at the sound of his voice. Your knees grow a little weak and you hate the way your stomach flutters at his words. Your boyfriend is standing there, right behind you, watching the scene unfold.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

You scoff, rolling your eyes, you turn away from him as you start blushing because of him, “whatever.”

Steve gasps, eyes widening in disbelief. That’s all you have to say? Whatever? You sure have a lot to say to him whenever you both bicker.

Eddie chuckles as he eyes you up and down, “you wanna be put in your place, huh?”

Eddie wouldn’t say all this to you if there wasn’t so much tension already, the past few weeks have led up to this exact moment.

You don’t say anything, just growing more flustered, not looking into Eddie’s or Steve’s eyes.

Eddie’s smirk widens, he looks over your shoulder, staring at Steve who shakes his head as a small chuckle falls from his lips.

“Do it.”

Your lips part and your eyes widen, you turn around, staring at your boyfriend in shock.

“Put her in her place,” he murmurs as he reaches for your waist, pulling you into him, “tame the fucking brat.”

You gasp at his words, “S-Steve?”

He chuckles, grasping your face in his large hands, he pulls you closer to kiss your lips, “that’s what you want, right?”

You gulp nervously, blinking. You hesitate and take a deep breath.

“N-No..”

He smirks, looking into your lust filled eyes, “come on, don’t lie to me.”

He pulls you tighter against him, squeezing your waist as he steals another soft kiss from you, “it’s okay, it’s just Eddie.”

Eddie, the only man he is willing to share you with.

You can always say no, he makes sure you know that. You can back down but do you want to?

You tear your eyes away from your boyfriend and turn around to face the man you have been avoiding, your eyes lock with his beautiful ones.

No, you don’t want to back down.

Eddie already knows your answer before even asking that question but he grabs your hand and pulls you closer, “do you want it?” he whispers as he brings his hand up to your face, grabbing your chin.

“Yes.” It comes out as a mere whisper, a nervous one.

Eddie smirks and Steve does too but you can’t see him. The man in front of you looks like he had just won the lottery, his eyes light up and he looks happier than he has ever felt before. He grabs your waist and without wasting another moment, he pulls you flush against him and slams his lips against yours.

For the first time in over a year, you finally feel his touch again, his kiss.

He is desperate in the way he kisses you, not caring about your boyfriend who watches it all unfold with awe in his eyes, he doesn’t care about anything but you. He finally has you back in his arms, even if it’s just for this moment. His hands are so delicate on your skin, his lips move so roughly against yours, he savors every second in which you kiss him back.

He doesn’t know whether to smile or to cry but he leaves the latter for when this night is over, now he enjoys it.

A moan, a whine and a desperate whimper from you, and both men that you have wrapped around your finger are rock hard. Eddie deepens the kiss, his tongue meets yours and he groans in pleasure when you bury your hands in his hair, tugging at his dark curls.

God, he missed you so much. His heart, his life felt so empty without you. He wants to kiss you softly, he wants to make love to you and show you how much he misses you but he can’t. You are not his, you will never be his and even when Steve is okay with this, he knows that it’s only just a one time thing, it’s just for sex, for rough sex.

Your boyfriend pulls you back into his chest, forcing you to break the kiss with Eddie, you whine at that action, chasing after his lips. He chuckles darkly, leaning down, he presses his lips against your shoulder, kissing you and nipping at your skin as he pulls the strap of your top down, “you want him, honey?”

Your eyelashes flutter, your lips part and you stare into Eddie’s eyes, watching the way he looks at you with hunger in his eyes, the way he did before but there is more now, something you can’t or don’t want to read because it will make you sad.

Steve’s lips are soft, making your heart and stomach flutter, “it’s okay, you can have him if you want,” he murmurs, “I don’t mind.”

You have questions, so many of them but you don’t bother to speak them out now, instead you find yourself nodding, “I want you both.”

Eddie smirks, eyes lighting up.

“Oh yeah?” Steve whispers, “you want him to fuck the brat out of you, baby?”

“Mhmm.”

Steve leads you and Eddie upstairs and into his room, he holds your hand while you hold Eddie’s, looking back at him to catch him staring at your ass, watching your skirt move back and forth as you walk up the stairs. He licks his lips before he raises his head to look into your eyes.

The moment you step into your boyfriend’s room, you suddenly feel nervous but also intrigued. Steve locks the door and then he walks you over to his bed, pushing you down, he grabs your chin and caresses your cheek, smirking at you and leaning down to peck your lips before he steps away, “you’re awfully quiet, honey. What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

Rolling your eyes at him, you scoff.

Steve chuckles, shaking his head, “Munson, come here.”

Eddie walks over to him, glancing at him, Steve smirks, “she’s all yours.”

You stare at your boyfriend, almost in shock. There have been moments where he got jealous whenever men just looked at you, here he is, giving you away to his friend like it means nothing to him. Which, you don’t actually mind because it’s Eddie. Yet, you glare at him.

“What’s wrong?” He laughs, “you wanted to be tamed and I’m not exactly brat tamer material, isn’t that what you said?”

Eddie looks amused by Steve’s words, he chuckles to himself as he looks at you.

“And don’t act like you don’t think about him, we both know you do,” Steve murmurs as he sits down beside you, bringing his hand up to your face, he cradles your cheek, you still glare at him just like before but now you look flustered, clearly not wanting Eddie to know that you still think about him, “look at him.”

You blink, shaking your head a little.

Steve’s hazel eyes flicker with mischief, lips curling up into a smirk, “you don’t want him to know that you still think about him?”

“Steve.”

He ignores you, “you don’t want him to know that you dream of him?” He asks as he kisses your cheek softly before he turns your head towards Eddie, forcing you to look at him, “I heard you whispering his name the other night, you know?”

Eddie’s lips part in surprise.

You grow flustered, both men notice the way you squeeze your thighs together.

“Is that so, sweetheart?” Eddie smirks as he steps towards you.

You look at him through your lashes, ignoring the way he makes you feel just by looking at you with his hungry eyes.

Steve lets go of you as Eddie places his fingers under your chin, “you dream about me, huh?”

You scoff and roll your eyes, “you wish,” you mumble in annoyance, “I haven’t thought about you in a long time.”

So you still wanna act like you hate him? Eddie shakes his head, laughing, “a few days is what you call a long time?”

“Not a few days, a whole year.”

He raises his brows, “a whole year, huh?” He asks in amusement, “that’s when you started dating Byers.”

You press your lips together, frowning at him and at your boyfriend who chuckles yet again.

“He didn’t satisfy you enough? You still thought about me?”

“Shut up,” you mumble as you raise your hand and slap his hand away.

His eyes darken and he looks at you in a way that would leave your past self shivering but you are not the girl that you used to be, you are not the fool that was once in love with him, at least that’s what you are telling yourself.

“Are you gonna fuck me or what?”

“You’re a depraved little slut, you know that right?”

You shrug, licking your lips as you feel yourself getting wet at his words.

“You’re sitting here next to your boyfriend, asking another man to fuck you,” Eddie smirks.

“It was his idea,” you shrug, ignoring Steve’s chuckle, “maybe he wants you to fuck him too, maybe he’s a depraved slut as well, just like you Eddie.”

Eddie raises his brows, tilting his head at you as he kneels down in front of you, his gentle hands grasping your ankles, he takes your shoes off slowly.

“Me?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “I wasn’t enough for you, you wanted to fuck other girls, not just one other girl, you wanted all of them, didn’t you? That’s why you didn’t want me anymore. So, who are you calling a depraved slut? You are the biggest of them all.”

Steve glances at Eddie, noticing the regret in his eyes.

Eddie didn’t want anyone else but you, he didn’t want any other girl, he just wanted you. The things he said to you were nothing but lies, to make you leave, for your own sake.

The tone in your voice is masked with anger but the pain is still lingering.

“You’re an asshole,” you say as you look deeply into his eyes, “I hate you.”

Eddie clenches his jaw, maybe his heart would hurt if he didn’t see the softness in your eyes, you don’t hate him.

“And you’re a fucking brat. A very mean brat.”

He gets back up after taking your shoes off, he puts his hand around your throat, watching the way your eyes widen and flash with lust, you always loved this.

“I bet you’ve been acting like this on purpose, huh? You wanted him to put you in your place?”

You blink, breathing faster as you look up at Eddie, well aware that Steve is staring at you with a smirk on his face.

“Answer me,” Eddie orders.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Yes, what?”

“I’ve been doing it on purpose,” you admit, your cheeks growing hot at your own words, “I wanted him to put me in my place.”

Steve gapes at you, you never ever admit anything like this to him, you never give in, you never let him hear what he wants to hear. You only ever stop acting like a brat after he makes you cum a few times.

You bite your lip, eyes raking over Eddie’s arm, the bracelet around his wrist, the tattoos on his arm, his shoulders that got broader. His hand around your neck, he pulls you up, forcing you to stand in front of him.

He brings you closer until his nose bumps against yours, “poor Steve doesn’t know how to tame the brat, huh?” He whispers against your lips as his eyes remain locked with yours, “it’s okay, that’s what you have me for.”

He kisses you softly, one last time before he rips your top off, throwing it on the ground along with your bra, taking a moment to admire your naked chest, touching your boobs and giving them both a squeeze before he turns you around and shoves you down on Steve’s bed, in front of him.

A whimper leaves your mouth when Eddie reaches for your hips and pulls your ass up, using both hands to tear the skirt into shreds, he rips it off and throws it on the ground.

Steve’s eyes widen in surprise as do yours, you gasp, calling his name loudly.

“What?” Eddie chuckles, “your rich boyfriend can buy you ten more of those, right?” He asks before his palm meets your ass roughly, a loud smack! echoing through the room, followed by a whiny moan.

Steve’s eyes darken and he looks down at you to make sure that you’re okay, pushing your hair out of your face, he caresses your cheek.

“Don’t worry, Harrington. She loves it even rougher,” Eddie murmurs as he smacks your other asscheek, “isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

You moan, nodding desperately as you bite your lip.

He chuckles as he watches you arching your back, your light pink thong is soaked already and Eddie can’t help but moan at the sight of it, he teases you, bringing his fingers up to your pussy, “who are you so wet for? Me or Steve?”

Your boyfriend touches your bottom lip with his thumb, smirking when you look at him with pleading eyes.

You hear Eddie shuffling around behind you, taking his belt off, you already know what he’s about to do and it only makes you feel more desperate.

“Me or Steve?” He asks again, with more anger in his voice.

“Answer him, honey.”

You don’t.

You want him to take it further.

Suddenly you jolt forward and a cry falls from your lips as you feel the leather smacking against your ass, tears well up in your eyes.

“Dude!”

Eddie chuckles at the shocked and angry look on Steve’s face, his body tenses up and he looks down at you with worry in his eyes.

“M-More..”

Steve’s eyes widen, shock ripples through him. He always knew that you were kinky, that you like it rough but not this rough.

“Please.”

“You see that, Steve?” Eddie murmurs as he raises his hand, using the belt to spank you again. The bulge in his pants is growing, his dick twitches at the sound of your moan, at the sight of your half naked body, “she loves it.”

“You’re so fucking dirty, honey.”

“Yes, she is,” Eddie groans.

He spanks you, again and again. And even after he is done, you are still begging for more, despite knowing that your ass will hurt. Steve watches in awe and disbelief, no snarky words or comments leave your mouth, just desperate moans and whimpers.

He swallows, your hand resting on his knee, squeezing it tightly as Eddie takes your ruined panties off and throws them at him, chuckling when he catches them and sniffs at them.

“Perv,” you mumble as you look up at Steve with a smirk on your face.

Eddie reaches for your waist, grabbing you tightly as he manhandles you on your back, he catches the surprised look on your face. Eddie takes his shirt off and throws it to the ground.

For a moment, he lets himself admire you. It’s been too long since he had seen you like this. Your bare body, your soft skin, your pretty hair laying on your naked shoulders, your eyes looking into his with desperation, with a softened gaze he hasn’t seen in so long.

You eye him up and down, you want him just like he wants you. You squeeze your thighs together, sighing when Steve starts playing with your hair, “you look so beautiful, honey.”

“Yes you do,” Eddie whispers, he leans over you, taking the black scrunchie off of your wrist, he uses it to tie his hair back, “you are the prettiest girl.”

Your heart flutters but at the same time, it hurts.

You roll your eyes at his words, clearly not believing a word he says.

“Shut up, Eddie.”

Steve chuckles at your words, while Eddie scoffs, shaking his head as he kneels down in front of the bed, he grabs you, pulling you closer, harshly. He throws your legs over his shoulders and begins to nip at your inner thighs roughly, kissing and biting your skin before he finally tastes you again.

His eyes flutter closed and he moans against you as he grabs your hips tighter than before, slipping his tongue into your wet pussy.

You moan loudly, reaching into his hair, you pull at it.

“F-Fuck!”

Eddie starts to eat you out, more intensely, more desperately than ever before. He needs you, he needs to feel you in every way possible. He grabs your ass harshly, squeezing your sensitive skin as he devours you.

You arch your back in pleasure, feeling his tongue plunging deeper inside of you. You look down at him, eyes locking with his, you allow yourself to look at him, only for one moment before your eyes roll back and you shut them.

You moan even louder than before when you feel Steve’s lips on your neck, his hands on your boobs, squeezing and grabbing them roughly as his fingers toy with your pierced nipples.

Eddie’s nose bumps against your clit as he shakes his head against you, licking and eating you out like a man starved. He shows you how desperate he is to touch you again.

So much pleasure runs through your body, the feeling is euphoric.

“Feeling good, honey?”

“Mhmm, so good,” you whimper.

Steve smirks, he leans down to kiss your lips as he twists and tugs your nipple. You shut your thighs, caging Eddie in and he only moans in response. He licks a stripe up your pussy and begins to flick his tongue on your clit as he pushes a finger inside of you.

“I missed your sweet pussy, baby.”

Not wanting to hear any of his praises, you pull his hair harsher than before as you make out with Steve.

Eddie groans, using his free hand to push your hand out of his hair, he slams it against the mattress and intertwines his fingers with yours, holding it against the bed.

That is too intimate for you, you don’t hold hands with people you don’t love, Eddie doesn’t love you.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against you, kissing your clit teasingly, he glances at you, watching the way your chest rises up and down heavily, your free hand in your boyfriend's hair as you kiss him.

His chest is filled with jealousy, you’re gentle with him, you’re soft with Steve, loving. That’s something he will never get again and it breaks his heart.

Eddie doesn’t stop after making you cum, he only keeps going. Fucking you with his fingers, keeping the rings on because he knows how much you used to love it. He covers your thighs in hickeys, smacking your soaked cunt when you call him names. Eddie is rough with you, he devours you for both yours and his pleasure and he enjoys knowing that not even Steve can make you feel like this.

He loves knowing that he watches you two, that he sees the way you yearn for him, the way you moan for him.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Your voice sounds like music to his ears, it makes his heart flutter in his chest.

He only stops when he feels like he might cum before he even gets to be inside of you.

He pulls away and admires the view, watching the way you are shaking, the way your cunt flutters, glistening from your juices and his spit. Your thighs are covered in hickeys, fingerprints on your hips.

Steve is being too soft with you, he caresses your cheek and whispers praises into your ear, as though he wasn’t the one suggesting this. Growing annoyed with the sight of it, he finally takes the rest of his clothes off and flips you over on your stomach again.

“Sit your ass down, Harrington,” Eddie orders, gesturing to the chair in the corner, “watch and learn.”

Steve raises his brows in surprise, his cheeks grow red and it definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him or you. You look smug and it only makes Steve blush harder, he rolls his eyes at you as he does what the other man told him to do.

You lick your lips, eying the bulge in Steve’s pants, “take your cock out, Stevie,” you whine, “please.”

Eddie chuckles behind you, you feel the bed dip under you. You swallow nervously, stomach growing tighter at the feeling of his hands on your hips, “listen to your girl, Steve.”

Steve blinks, nodding at his words, “f-fuck.. yeah, yeah..” He stammers, unbuckling his belt hastily, he pushes his pants out just enough to take his dick out.

You moan while Eddie’s eyes widen at the sight of Steve’s dick, “holy shit, man.”

Your boyfriend looks smug, smirking as he looks at the two of you.

“Yeah, he is so much bigger than you, Eddie,” you tease, looking over your shoulder with a smirk on your face, “makes me feel better too.”

He glares, holding your hips tighter, “oh yeah?” He murmurs as he takes his hard cock and slips it through your wet folds until it touches your sensitive clit.

“Ah– shit,” you whimper.

“Touch yourself, Steve. Look at her, watch how I ruin your pretty little girlfriend, I’m gonna make her mine again.”

You shake your head in response, wanting to protest but only whimpers leave your mouth when he pushes inside of you, splitting you open. You’re too sensitive, too overwhelmed, too weak already. Unable to hold yourself up, you fall down against the pillows.

“Forget it,” Steve growls as he fists his cock, keeping his eyes on you, “she’s mine forever.”

Eddie chuckles darkly, watching how you struggle to hold yourself up, you whine and moan.

“We’ll see.”

He pushes in deeper, placing both hands on your asscheeks, he spreads them, watching how your wet pussy takes his cock. He moans loudly, eyes fluttering closed, he can’t even help but grin when he feels your walls clenching around him at the sound of his moans.

“E-Eddie,” you whine into the pillow, gripping the bed sheets tightly, “I-I… please.”

He dreamed of this moment, he thought about you day and night while you were apart, he missed this, he missed the feeling of being inside you, of feeling your warm pussy around him, of hearing your moans, he just missed you so much.

“Please what?”

You are drooling all over the pillow, your eyes well up with tears and you can’t stop the whines and moans from escaping.

“Please move, please sir.”

“Good girl,” Eddie grunts as he squeezes your ass, he pulls out completely before he slams back inside of you roughly with a loud moan.

“Ah– f-fuck.. your cock feels so good,” you cry out.

“Oh yeah?” He breathes as he reaches for your hair, tugging at it to raise your head up to make you look at him. Eddie starts thrusting, rougher and rougher. “Look at him, baby.”

Steve jerks off and fuck, he looks so good. He moans loudly, biting his lip as he moves his fist faster.

“Your pussy feels so perfect, sweetheart,” Eddie breathes, “so tight and wet for me.”

“D-Don’t stop,” you whimper, “please don’t stop.”

Your juices are slipping down your thighs, your pussy gets tighter around his cock, you feel filthy, especially when you hear the squelching sounds of your pussy as Eddie pounds you into the mattress.

The room is filled with moans and whimpers. Tears are running down your cheeks, your body is already shaking, your next orgasm approaching. The coil in your stomach tightens as he fucks you deeper than before.

“O-Oh fuck, stop clenching around me, I’m gonna cum,” Eddie growls.

You squeal when you feel his hand around your throat. Suddenly, he has you pinned against his back, one hand remaining on your throat while the other roams your body, playing with your tits and sliding down your stomach.

“Honey, you look so fucking good,” Steve grunts, moaning louder than before. He stares at you, he stares at the way Eddie’s cock slides in and out of your pussy, he watches the way tears run down your cheek, the way you hold your hand over Eddie’s, grasping it tightly as you moan louder and louder.

Eddie kisses your shoulder and your neck, “you’re doing so good for me,” he whispers, “are you close, baby?”

“Mhmmm,” you nod desperately, “s-so close.”

“You wanna cum?”

“Yes, Eddie! Please!”

He looks over at Steve, “should I let her cum?”

Steve nods, looking just as desperate as you, “yes, fuck.. Let her cum.”

You feel him twitching inside of you, he is close, just like you, just like Steve. Eddie whimpers into your ear, his fingers reaching down to rub your clit, he grasps your chin, looking into your eyes before they flutter shut, “cum for me, baby,” he whispers before he slams his lips against yours.

Unlike the other kisses before, this one is soft and sweet, enough to transform tears of pleasure into tears of sadness.

You gush around him, cumming for the last time this night. Eddie moans against you, unwillingly breaking the kiss. You push away from him, letting yourself fall back down just in time for him to pull out, with a groan, he releases all over your ass and back.

You shut your eyes, whimpering at the sensitive feelings rushing through you.

“Fuck,” he whispers, a happy chuckle leaving his lips.

You try to catch your breath, try to stop the tears from falling, you don’t want him to see how vulnerable you are, how hurt you still are by his past actions but you missed him so much and you feel ashamed for it because you know that this means nothing to him, just like it never meant anything to him back then.

Your boyfriend is here, the one that you love with all your heart even when you haven’t told him yet, too scared of rejection, too scared of being pushed away by him the way you were by the other man.

You don’t know how long you’re laying there like this but the feeling of Eddie’s hands on your skin, the feeling of him cleaning your back gently before he presses a soft kiss to your bruised ass suddenly makes you cry harder.

Soft sobs leave your lips as all your feelings come catching up to you.

Steve’s eyes flash with concern, he looks at Eddie, who suddenly looks like a deer caught in headlights as his face grows pale and his eyes show nothing but panic.

Steve rushes towards you, using his throw blanket to cover your bare body, he pushes your hair to the side and touches your back softly, “honey,” he whispers, “what’s wrong?” He asks in concern.

Eddie doesn’t even bother to put his shirt on, standing there in nothing but his jeans, he stares at you as his heart begins to race.

Steve kisses your shoulder, your arm, your knuckles and then your cheek, “talk to me, baby,” he whispers, “are you hurt?”

Eddie puts his hand on his forehead as tears well up in his eyes, did he take things too far? Did he hurt you?

You shake your head, “no.. I’m not, I’m okay.”

He should feel relieved but he can’t, not when you are crying after you just had sex.

Your glassy eyes meet the ones of your boyfriend, your bottom lip quivers as you stare at him, you push yourself up a little, clutching the blanket against your chest, “d-do you love me?”

Your voice sounds broken, small and vulnerable.

Steve has never seen you like this. His heart squeezes in his chest and he furrows his brows, he nods, cupping your cheeks, “of course, honey. I love you,” he whispers, looking into your eyes with truth, “I love you so much.”

Your eyes flash with relief, you nod, “thank you.”

He frowns at your words, not understanding why you are thanking him for loving you but it quickly catches up to him when he looks over your shoulder, eyes locking with Eddie’s tear filled and guilty ones.

You loved him and he didn’t love you back.

At least that’s what you believed.

Eddie looks heartbroken, he looks sad and he looks like he hates himself because he pushed you away before. He loves you, he is in love with you.

Eddie’s bottom lip quivers just like yours does, he blinks, trying to push the tears back as he reaches for his shirt, throwing the black material over his head.

Steve feels a sudden longing for the man in front of him, not wanting him to go, not wanting him to leave you again.

“I’m gonna go,” Eddie mumbles quietly.

Steve can see the way your eyes flash with sadness, the way your body tenses. He doesn’t want you to hurt, he doesn’t want Eddie to hurt.

Steve wipes your tears away and he looks into your eyes. You love Eddie, maybe that should scare him but it doesn’t because he knows that you love him too and that’s all that matters.

“Don’t go.”

Eddie looks at him in confusion, “what?”

“Please don’t go,” Steve says, “come here.”

Eddie hesitates, he looks at the back of your head, your quiet sniffles break his heart all over again.

“It’s okay, Eddie.” It’s okay to love her too.

Eddie nods, walking closer to you, he looks at you with sad eyes, watching the way you clutch Steve’s hand tightly as you cry. Tears stream down your face just like they did back then.

He sits down beside you, reaching out to touch your shoulder but you flinch away from him.

He closes his eyes, sighing deeply.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m so sorry for everything, for what I said. I’m sorry for lying to you.”

Steve rubs the back of your hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Lying?” You whisper.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, “I lied to you about everything that night. I didn’t want anyone else, there was never anyone else, there was no other girl, ever. You were always the only one for me, you still are.”

You furrow your brows, feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You feel relieved but angry at the same time.

“Those things I said about you, I didn’t mean them. God, I was so stupid. I wanted you so bad, still do,” he says as tears run down his cheeks.

You look into his eyes, seeing nothing but the truth.

You still long for him the way you always did, you still want him, you still love him.

You love them both.

“I was always so crazy about you, fuck– it hurt so much to push you away, sweetheart,” he whispers.

“Then why did you?” You ask in a broken whisper.

“I didn’t want to ruin your life.”

Your heart breaks but the anger is stronger.

“But you did, you did ruin my life. You broke my heart.”

Regret and guilt is what he felt for so many months after he had pushed you away but especially now that he has to look into your tearfilled eyes.

“I-I’m so sorry, I regretted every single day,” he whispers, scooting closer to you. He reaches his hand out again, this time, you don’t flinch when he touches you, he cups your cheeks, looking deeply into your eyes.

“I love you.”

You sniffle, more tears well up in your eyes as you finally hear those words that you have craved so bad.

“I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“Y-You do?” You whisper.

He nods, smiling as he leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead, “I do.”

Steve can’t even help it, he looks down at your hand that is still holding his tightly, he smiles.

Maybe this isn’t ideal but it works for him.

Eddie grew on him, he didn’t understand just how much he did but he doesn’t mind, especially now when he sees the happy look in your eyes, when you still hold his hand as you let Eddie wrap his arms around you.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck and squeeze him tightly as he holds you, cupping the back of your neck and breathing in your scent.

You are happy with him but you are even happier with Eddie back in your life, that's makes it all worth it.

As Steve watches the two of you, he knows that everything is going to be okay because at the end of the day, you all have each other.

No more pain, no more broken hearts or any missing pieces.

You got each other forever.

tagging my faves <3 @littledemondani @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @wroteclassicaly @aftermidnightwriting @bimbobaggins69

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steddie x y/n #steddie x reader smut

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asongofmarvelanddc · 1 year

Text

Someone. Anyone.

PAIRING: Aegon II X Reader

WORD COUNT: 4688

WARNINGS: None

SUMMARY: Aegon has waited his entire life for someone to care.

A/N: This simply refused to leave my brain until it was written down. I can't wait to see more of Aegon II in season 2! As always, please reblog, like, comment, send an ask, a raven – anything! I wanna talk to you guys! ❤️

The days seem to blur together recently. Aegon can’t tell the difference between them anymore, bar something particularly extraordinary happening. No such thing has happened of late and so the days continue to blur.

When Aegon wakes that morning, he half-expects it to be the evening. It’s an odd thing the way he sleeps. Erratic. Some days he rises before the birds, and other days it’s just as supper is being cleared from the dinner table. No one thinks to wake him anymore – probably glad to be rid of his presence.

With a sigh, he shuffles out of bed, groaning when his head pounds in response to being on his feet. The thought of washing before he leaves the room crosses his mind. Briefly. There’s no one around to draw him a bath, and frankly, he’s in no mood to wait. He is hungry, tired…and lonely. But he can only do something about those first two things.

He exits the room looking quite haphazard, but rests easy knowing that no one would dare comment on his ghastly appearance. Most of the servants and guards avoid eye contact as he passes. Aegon takes that to mean that no one has requested his presence somewhere. No one wants to see him.

Even when he sits to eat, he’s left utterly alone. He stares into space as he downs his breakfast. A drink. That’s what he needs. It doesn’t distract from the loneliness anymore – it hasn’t in years – but it dulls the pain at least. He finishes eating, and though he has had his fill, the pit in his stomach remains empty.

Sunfyre.

Perhaps that is who he needs. She always manages to plug the hole in his heart, however temporary it may be. He rises and immediately heads for the dragon pit.

On the way down there he walks past Helaena’s room. The door is ajar, and the laughter of children filters out into the hall. Aegon’s lip twitches as he edges closer to the door. It has been a few days – two, maybe three – since he’s seen the kids. He wants to sit with them, play with them. They’re growing so fast.

He pushes the door open further and slides halfway through, but his smile falters when he realises that his wife and children are not alone.

His brother, Aemond, is sitting on the floor with the children. They’re tugging at his hair, completely unaware of the discomfort they might be causing, while Aemond sits there trying his best to appear annoyed with them. Alicent and Helaena are watching from the lounger, entirely amused by the scene before them.

They seem happy. Happier than they could ever be in his presence at least.

Instead of dampening the mood with his entrance, he quietly slides back out of the room, making sure he isn’t seen or heard. It’s selfish to be hurt by the fact that they are happy without him, but he can’t help it.

He can’t remember a time when his family were happy to see him. His father ignores him, his mother berates him, his brother is disgusted by him, and his wife can’t stand the sight of him….And he’s not entirely sure he can blame them.

He has never been the best version of himself that he could be…but what is the point in being great when all that is expected of him is failure? They all look at him and see nothing of worth. Why prove them otherwise? Worthless he shall continue to be.

Aegon is content to wallow in self-pity for the remainder of the day until he runs into a familiar face upon turning a corner. Although you barely collide, it's enough to startle you and make you jump back.

"Aegon!" you yelp, but quickly recover and bow your head in a more composed manner, "My Prince."

His mood is instantly improved at the sight of you, and he can't say exactly why. He’s paid attention to you, in a way he never has to other young maidens in the castle. At first, it was purely due to the allure of your striking beauty, but soon it became…more.

Your father joined the Small Council only a few months ago, and you've been strolling the halls of the Red Keep since. Not long after your arrival, you joined Aegon for a drink just outside the servants’ quarters and he questioned you about why you accompanied your father to the capital rather than remain at home with your mother and sisters. You clammed up and offered a rather vague explanation that indicated a turbulent relationship with her. Aegon let you be, but since then, he made sure to stop and speak to you whenever you crossed paths.

He wouldn’t call you a friend. No, not at all. However, you are one of the few able to keep up with him when it comes to drink. You don't sigh when he enters a room, nor do you look at him with derision or contempt in your eyes. You laugh at his jokes, so he tells even more for your sake. Because he wants you to enjoy his company as much as he does yours.

He's starting to care, and though it terrifies him, it's better than anything he's felt for years.

"My Lady." Taking your hand, he turns it over so the palm is facing upwards. He raises a brow and looks up at you, "I see you have been drawing again."

It's the charcoal dust on your fingers that gives it away. He's aware of your hobby – drawing various flowers and documenting their differences and similarities. You swear it'll be useful to the maesters one day. Aegon is not so sure, but he doesn't share those thoughts because he sees how happy it makes you.

"Someone ought to do it," you shrug and wipe your hands on the small purse slung across your body, "If I don't, who will?"

"Is that where you are off to in such a hurry?"

"No," you sigh heavily and roll your eyes as you seem to recall something of particular annoyance, "Do you know that there are weeds growing in the godswood?"

"Weeds?"

"Weeds!" you repeat, even more concerned, "I have asked the gardener to prune them but it doesn’t seem to have been done properly. So, I have decided to do it myself."

Your passion is infectious, it breathes life into him. He cares not about the art of gardening, but he cares about you, your interests. It pains him to admit that he craves the idea of being a part of your life, in any and all ways.

"I shall join you," he says after a moment of thought, "If you will have me."

It's a silly question to ask, one to which you don't bother responding for he knows the answer is always 'yes'. Aegon walks alongside you, occasionally glancing at each other, but not knowing what to say. He’s always like this when he hasn’t had a drink.

"I called on you earlier. I was told you were still asleep."

Most are rarely happy to see Aegon, much less purposely seeking him out. This is unusual for him.

“I was, I only woke a short while ago,” he says, “Were you after something?”

You look up at him with a cheery smile, "No, I just wanted to spend time with you."

He frowns in confusion, "Why?"

You come to a sudden stop and look up at him properly, a soft pout forming on your lips, "You and I are friends, are we not?"

Friends. He cannot say that he has ever had one. Every person he has ever spent a reasonably enjoyable time with was either paid to be accommodating, or did so out of mere obligation. Everyone but you.

"Besides, who's to say you and I will even have the chance to speak at the feast later?" you say with a chuckle.

"We are to have a feast tonight?"

Your brows crease as you search his eyes for any sign that he may be teasing, “Today is your Name Day. Have you forgotten?”

You state it as if it is the most obvious thing to remember.

“No, I–,” he stutters as he tries to recall the date, “No one told me...”

Aegon retreats into his own mind. Until this very moment, he had completely forgotten that this is meant to be a day of celebration. Normally his mother would be dragging him out of bed first thing in the morning, and there would be some attempt from his family to spend time together. But today has been like all the rest, and they have chosen to exclude him.

That is expected. Forgetting his own Name Day is not. It's a painful thing when no one seems to care, but it's terrifying to know that he is starting to care less about himself.

"I'm sure your mother is preparing a banquet that shall be the talk of the Kingdoms," you gently touch his arm, a level of tenderness he can’t remember when last he received.

Aegon looks into your eyes, a ray of light in this haze of misery he calls a life. And just like that, he doesn’t feel so lonely anymore.

***

As the honoured guest, Aegon is seated at the head of the High Table, his mother and grandsire on either side of him along with his siblings and children. But somehow, as the night goes on, Aegon climbs down from the raised platform and joins you at one of the tables meant for the Small Council members and their families.

Although you are flattered, people are staring because it is not in fact common for the Heir to ignore most of the guests at his own Name Day feast in order to spend time with the Master of Coin's daughter.

No matter. You do your best to ignore them just as Aegon seems to do.

Slouched in his chair, right leg up on the table and his left hand holding a goblet of wine, you can’t help noticing that he isn't drunk – yet – and you hope it stays that way for the evening. He engages you in a heated discussion about whether or not the dance being performed by the guests is worth watching. You are of the strong opinion that it is entertaining to watch and romantic when participating.

Aegon shoots you a look of incredulity, "They are not even touching!"

"Yes, because this dance is about the simple intimacy of the near-touch," you hover your palms close together to imitate one of the dance moves.

Aegon scoffs and sips his drink, "There is nothing intimate about not touching your dance partner."

"True intimacy is about when you–" he stops himself and laughs, shaking his head, "I suppose it would be improper of me to divulge such salacious secrets to a virtuous maiden such as yourself, my Lady."

You roll your eyes at his condescending tone and shove him playfully in the shoulder which makes him laugh.

“Lady Y/N!” ha gasps in faux horror, “You just touched me! How will we ever know the meaning of true intimacy now?”

You laugh and shove him again, earning even more looks from the people around. Quickly you quiet down and focus on Aegon again. He's watching the dancers but you're looking at him.

Even half-drunk, with tousled hair from constantly running his hand through the cropped locks and red-rimmed eyes, you still find him beautiful. You feel the urge to reach out and touch his cheek or his hair, but stop yourself from doing something so inappropriate in public.

Besides, who knows how Aegon would react to such a thing?

“You truly don’t believe two people can share an intimate moment without touching?”

He chuckles at first, ready to brush off the question with a silly joke, but when he turns to you and senses how serious you are, his eyes soften.

There is many a moment you've shared with Aegon that you would consider intimate, and not once have you touched him during them. You want to know that he feels the same way about those moments. You need to know.

He holds your gaze for some time, and you can't be sure what he is thinking about, then he answers in a low voice, "Perhaps..."

He glances down at your lips, it is only for a second, but you catch it anyway. Aegon knows this, but it does not make him lean back into his chair, nor pretend to be embarrassed.

"There are people looking at us," you whisper, glancing around the room at the obvious stares, "Could we go somewhere?"

He frowns, "Why?"

"I want to give you your gift."

***

Aegon follows you to a less visible corner of the room. He doesn't truly care about what this gift may be, he is only happy to be alone with you away from prying eyes.

He watches as you reach into a hidden zip in the front of your dress, a clever design, and pull out an oval shaped case. It rattles when you pull it out so there is clearly something hidden inside. You step closer to him and press the case into the palm of his hand, practically shaking with excitement.

Whatever it is, it's small, which is quite an unusual kind of gift for Aegon. He often receives famous first edition books, expensive fabrics and custom-made swords for his Name Day. The gifts are piled high on the other end of the room at this very moment.

"Will you open it?"

Aegon, amused by your visible excitement and anticipation, snaps the case open. Inside is a golden insignia ring displaying the three heads of the dragon, perfectly etched into metal.

“It was supposed to be black and red, like the sigil of your House, but I think I like it better in gold,” you say, a look of pride in your eyes as you look down at your gift, “When it catches the light, it shimmers like the scales on Sunfyre.”

You smile as you tilt the ring towards the candle above you, “You see?”

Aegon can’t say for sure if your assertion is true because he doesn’t look to inspect the ring. Instead his gaze stays fixed on you, confused and in awe. He has been showered with gifts since before he had memories of his Name Day, but none as thoughtful as this.

When he glances down at the ring, he notices an inscription on the inside of the band. "To my dearest Prince, Aegon," it reads in High Valyrian.

"You added this?"

"There wasn't much space to have any more inscribed," you say, "But I had Aemond translate it to High Valyrian for me because I wanted it to mean something to you."

He doesn't know what to say. The gift is so small, yet sentimental. No one has ever offered him such kindness, and Aegon doesn't believe he deserves it. His entire life he has longed for someone, anyone, to care about him. Not Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, Heir to the Iron Throne – just him. He is not used to receiving such compassion and doesn’t know how to respond to it.

He ignores the stinging of tears behind his eyes and clears his throat.

"Thank you, Y/N," he says as he slips the ring onto his pinky finger, "I shall wear it always."

Your heart swells as he kisses the ring.

"I know it is improper for a Lady to ask," you begin, already feeling the burn of embarrassment on your cheeks, "But would you care to dance, my Prince?"

Aegon is beyond flattered and kicks himself for not asking first. He does not want you to think that he is not eager, when it is in fact the opposite.

"I would–" he cuts himself off at the sight of his mother approaching from behind you.

A frown carves itself into his lips, "I would love to, but it seems my mother wants to have a word."

You look behind you and nod in understanding when you see Alicent walking up, "Of course. Perhaps later then?"

He nods with a smile, "Don't tire yourself out."

You bow to the Queen Mother as you excuse yourself, glancing back at Aegon when you walk away.

Alicent sidles up to Aegon’s side, a goblet of wine in her hands. “I see you’ve grown quite close to Lady Y/N as of late,” she says, “You’re fond of her?”

Aegon’s brows furrow as he looks down at his mother. He’s not sure where she is going with this and thinks to lie, but even he knows he can’t deceive her.

“I am,” he answers, looking away from her and searching for you with his eyes.

Alicent nods slowly and sips from her cup, “She’s beautiful, is she not?”

Aegon finally spots you among the dancers, floating across the floor with Tyland Lannister as your partner. His heart warms as you laugh at something the man says, your smile tugging at something that has long been buried within him. As if you can feel his eyes on you, you turn your head to look at him, throwing him a wink.

“I suppose she is,” he responds absent-mindedly to Alicent's question as the corner of his lips begin to turn up.

Alicent looks at him again, growing more and more irritated as the seconds go by.

"I hear her father intends to propose a marriage for her to Tyland Lannister."

Aegon's head snaps towards his mother.

"Tyland Lannister?" he gasps violently, "He is an old man!"

In truth, Tyland Lannister is a mere six and thirty – not considered old by the country’s standards.

"He is the Master of Ships and brother to the Warden of the West," she says, ignoring the outburst, "A Lannister is a good match for her."

Over my dead body, he thinks. There is not a reality Aegon is willing to accept in which you belong to somebody else. If he must claim you as his wife, then he will. Just as Aegon the Conqueror had two wives, so it shall be for Aegon II. The thought of you being wed to another man not only makes him angry, it is sickening.

“Aegon.” He is torn away from his thoughts of you by his mother’s stern voice.

This conversation is annoying and agitating. He does not want to hear it. He wants to go to you, to tear you away from that Lannister Lord and take you somewhere you can be alone together.

"Whether it is to Tyland Lannister or some other nobleman, she will be wed," Alicent says, her firm tone taking on a desperate edge, "Her father sits on the Small Council. She will be married to a decent man someday who will make her a good husband."

His scowl deepens. "Why are you telling me all this, Mother?"

"Because she is not like one of your whores, Aegon,” she turns to face him fully, though he avoids her eyes, “You cannot sully her skirts with your debauchery. You must leave her alone.”

Aegon has never believed that he is good enough for you, nor that he even deserves your friendship. It is why he has kept you at a distance as much as he can. Too selfish to completely let you go, but also afraid that one day, you will see him as he is and abandon him. His mother has just taken that fear, and in a few words, beaten him over the head with it.

Does she not see that he is trying? He has not stepped foot in a pleasure house in some weeks now. And though he still drinks, he does not do it until he loses his senses anymore. The days no longer blur, and he wakes eager to start them. That emptiness that tormented him so, it has faded.

Does she really not see?

Devastated does not convey the intensity of the pain that descends upon Aegon in that moment. His efforts to do better, to be better, have gone completely unnoticed by the one who chastises him the most for his self-indulgence and lechery.

“Aegon,” she says again, pulling on his arm, “Promise me that you will leave that girl alone.”

Aegon glances in your direction. You’re still dancing, but with a different partner now. Blissfully unaware that his heart has just been shattered into pieces.

“I promise,” he grunts.

As soon as he says the words, Alicent leaves his side, no longer needing to be in his presence.

Aegon stumbles, a bit overwhelmed in the moment as he looks around the room for something, anything, to distract him from the shame and embarrassment he feels. He spots a pitcher of wine on the corner of a table by him and swipes it, heading down to the cellars of the Keep.

***

Aegon promised you a dance, but after searching for him for close to an hour, you find him in the cellars with Balerion, sitting against the stone wall, legs spread out in front of him as he stares at the dragon’s skull. A wine chalice lies discarded by his side, spilling out what was left of its contents.

Aegon does not react as you walk towards him. Even when you stand right in front of him he doesn’t look up at you. He is completely out of it, and the sight makes you let out a deep sigh.

You move beside him and slide down the wall, choosing to sit quietly with him. Aegon drinks wine like it is water, but to get like this, something must have upset him. You don’t ask him about it. He always wants someone to listen, because of that you never have to press him to share his thoughts.

“What is worse than hate?”

Those are the first words that leave his lips after almost an hour of silence. He’s still staring up at Balerion as he speaks, but his arms are now resting on his knees which are pulled up to his chest. Though he is right beside you, he feels a million miles away.

You ponder the question some, but can’t quite offer a response, “I can’t imagine there is anything worse than hate.”

“Indifference,” he answers, nodding to himself, “It is empty. Hollow. Lonely.”

Finally, he looks at you with tear-filled, bloodshot eyes, “That is all I see when my family looks at me.”

Your heart breaks for him, and a lump forms in your throat as you try not to cry.

“Aegon,” you whisper, voice shaking, “Your family do not hate you. Nor are they indifferent.”

He laughs bitterly as his head rolls back to rest against the wall. “You do not have to lie to make me feel better,” he says, “That is what the whores are for.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, preferring the sting of physical pain than the one caused by his words.

“It’s the drink making you feel this way.”

His head rolls to the side so he’s looking at you again, though at an angle. At first, he doesn’t speak and it sends your mind racing as you try to guess what he might be thinking in that clouded head of his.

“Without the drink, I sink into a hole of despair,” his eyes soften, “A hole…I fear I may never climb out of.”

You hate seeing him like this. So broken and worn down by what he sees as a burdensome life.

Aegon’s eyes shift from you to the ground when he feels you trying to lace your fingers through his. He shakes his head and draws back, burying his face in his hands. This is the first time he’s rejected the comfort you offer. He is in a worse state than you imagined and you don’t know what brought him to this.

“Aegon,” his name falls from your lips like a desperate plea. You reach out to pull his hands away from his face, but even that won’t make him look at you.

You look down at your hand as tears begin to well in your eyes. “I’m not indifferent,” you mumble, but in the quiet, the words come out clear as day, “And I don’t hate you, Aegon.”

That seems to stir something in him. He looks at you with narrowed eyes, as though he is suspicious. But the longer he looks, the suspicion fades. And without a second thought, he reaches over and grabs your head in his hands, roughly capturing your lips in a kiss.

His lips taste of wine and salt from the tears now freely spilling down his cheeks. Everywhere his hands find, they grip you tight, afraid to let you go. And you melt into him, promising him with every kiss and every tug that you won’t leave.

You don’t care that his kiss is not the sweet and tender one you imagined. It’s rough, needy and desperate, noses bumping into each other and hands fumbling against your bodies as he pulls you into his lap – a motion only made possible because you want it to be.

All you can think about is how you can’t get enough of this. Of him. Day and night he has consumed your thoughts, dreaming of being held and kissed and touched by him. His sad eyes plagued your mind from the first night you spoke with him. You knew he had burrowed himself deep in your heart the first time you got down on your knees in the Sept and prayed for his healing.

But even now, as his lips merge themselves to yours, his hands sliding up your thighs, you can’t enjoy the moment fully. Because he’s drowning. His heart is broken, and you’re not sure you can fix it.

Just as the thought crosses your mind, he pulls away from you – though, even that seems hard for him to do.

“Aegon…?”

He opens those beautiful sad eyes again and upon meeting yours, shakes his head. He’s fighting with himself, with what he ought to do and what he wants to do. What he needs from you.

He looks up at you again and gently strokes your cheek.

“I don’t want to debase you,” he chokes out, looking like he is in physical pain.

“How could you debase me?”

“I can’t–” He grips your face tightly and pulls you closer, searching your eyes in desperation.

More tears spill over and roll down his cheeks. “You are far too precious to me.”

The pain in his eyes is so raw you can practically see him twisting the knife in his own heart. He’s clinging to you for life while begging you to let him go. He doesn’t know that if you let him succumb, the darkness will consume you too.

“And what do you think you are to me?” you whisper, hands cupping his face, “A rarity. The person I love.”

His grip softens and his eyes widen.

“You love me?”

“More than anything,” you say without any hesitation.

He stares at you in awe, fingers tracing your cheeks and jaw and lips. You cannot say if he is in the room with you in this moment, or if his mind is somewhere else. As if snapped back to his senses, he sucks in a stuttered breath and his gaze refocuses.

“You love me?” he asks again, voice breaking as he speaks.

The last of his resolve breaks when you nod again. Burying his head into your chest, he begins to sob uncontrollably, arms squeezing around your waist as he holds onto you.

With trembling lips, you place a kiss to the top of his head, your tears soaking through his silver hair.

#aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #aegon fanfic #tom glynn carney #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fic #hotd imagine #house of the dragon fic

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monakisu · 1 month

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about saiki kusuo...

he's a leo.

he's incredibly tidy. if his parents leave the house in a mess, he'll complain but proceed to deep-clean it anyways.

he's a stickler for other people's safety. if he notices someone's shoelace is untied, he'll tie it for them, regardless of the circumstances (ie. smack-dab in the middle of a sports game)

on another note, he seems to have a fixation with tying people's shoelaces for them.

he's weak for sweets in general, not just coffee jelly. sweet tooth saiki!

he has a huge soft spot for kids. this probably stems from his failed childhood friendship with akechi.

he's scared of bugs because he can't read their minds. this implies that powerless!saiki might be a lot shyer, more anxious, and even pricklier, since he doesn't know what anybody's thinking.

he's totally a mama's boy. he learned his moral compass from her, does whatever she wants, believes he was born an esper to protect her, etc.

also, the notorious zebra print blazer was because of his mom.

he's so much of a people-pleaser that he'll sacrifice his desire for anonymity and normalcy; he'll insert himself into situations, stalk people, and use his powers even if it means the spotlight will fall on him.

not only is he a people-pleaser, he's a drama queen. he'd rather concoct elaborate plans to avoid somebody instead of simply rejecting them.

he's a one piece fan.

his favorite arcade game used to be whack-a-mole, and he thought destroying all the moles meant he'd won. he was banned because of this.

his glasses are colored glasses from his childhood toy box. wording implies that he's been wearing this same pair his whole life.

he likes baking/cooking, mostly because he gets to eat the sweets that he made. (househusband saiki... heh.)

he smiled a lot more freely as a kid. when he wasn't wearing a dazed expression, he looked like quite the cheerful child.

he helps kaido out with classwork by simply handing him his own work.

he rarely gets sick, and when he does he can cure himself by turning his body into an inferno through pyrokinesis. however, this means he knows next to nothing about medicine.

similarly, he's tragically naïve about the internet.

he's good at singing and likes karaoke (preferably singing by himself).

like kaido, he gets seasick. however, he fervently denies this. he seems to think himself impervious of the maladies regular people suffer from.

he has a bit of a girly run.

he likes using takahashi as a joke. "it's everyone's favorite, takahashi." he also hates takahashi because of his strong resemblance to akechi's childhood bully, takashi.

he likes hot baths.

when he walks home from school, he follows this routine: he stops at the convenience store, picks up coffee jelly, puts it back on the shelf, then continues home. ...incredible. he seems incapable of not staring at any nearby coffee jelly.

he may be willing to downplay his smarts/talents to avoid trouble, but he'll get competitive when he's with akechi or kusuke.

he's hesitant to cause his friends any harm, but will freely maim toritsuka, so long as the damage is immediately reversed.

he won't hesitate with kusuke, though.

lastly, and most importantly:

he's a cutie patootie <3

#last pic courtesy of saikbot on twitter!!!!#had to clear this outta my notes app #source: i divined it in a dream #just kidding this is all random tidbits i picked up while blazing through the manga #enjoy saiki stans #saiki k #saiki kusuo #the disastrous life of saiki k #saiki kusou no psi nan

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luxaofhesperides · 6 months

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We Are Robins meeting to Signal apprehending Danny ; requested by @zylev-blog!

“Hey, Danny. How are you feeling?”

Danny gives Duke a tired smile, his head falling back against the wall. He’s sitting up today, which is good. It’s definitely an improvement from the many days Danny was unable to do much but lie down and grit his teeth through the pain as Duke checked on the gunshot wound. It’s a good thing Danny’s a meta with a healing factor, or nothing Duke could have done would have saved him.

As it is, the wound was severe enough to keep Danny vulnerable and unable to move on his own without making it worse. Though Duke has looked, he hasn’t had any luck in finding whoever did this to Danny. He hasn’t brought it up to the rest of the We Are Robin gang, but only because Danny only let him help if he kept it between the two of them.

What’s another secret? If it lets him stay close to Danny and make sure he’s healing well, then he’ll keep quiet and carry on the search by himself. He’s got plenty of practice in doing things on his own.

“Busy out there?” Danny asks as Duke sits down next to him, dropping his backpack onto the ground.

“Yeah, it’s tough with the cops after us, but someone needs to help Gotham and with Batman gone…”

A pained expression crossed Danny’s face. Eyeing him carefully, Duke opened his backpack and pulled out a few protein bars and sports drinks for him. Once Danny takes them and began eating one, Duke takes out the first aid kit, always kept at the bottom of the backpack, and sets it in front of Danny.

The most he can do is offer supplies and company at this stage of Danny’s healing. He gets twitchy and tense when Duke tries to tend to his wound, and seems to have plenty of practice in patching himself up.

He didn’t answer when Duke commented on it once, so Duke let the matter drop.

Metas may have legal protection, but that doesn’t stop people from targeting them. Duke has no intention of pushing Danny into remembering unpleasant things while he’s already wounded, hiding out in the upper corner of an abandoned warehouse taken over by a group of homeless people. Most aren’t inside during the day, choosing instead to be out with the rest of the city, which leaves them alone.

Duke keeps an eye on the ground floor of the warehouse, making sure no one comes in while Danny tends to his wound. When he peeks back, he can see that it’s much smaller than it was the night Duke found him, crawling down an alley with one hand clutching his side, tears slipping down his face. There had been so much blood that Duke was sure he had just stumbled upon someone dying and froze, horrified.

And then a shout down the road prompted him to move, hauling Danny up and helping him into the warehouse to hide.

For a normal person, if it didn’t kill them, the wound would still be raw and bleeding, larger than any gunshot wound he’s seen before. But Danny’s wound is closing up quickly, no longer bleeding, the edges a healing pink.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to scar, either.

“Think it’ll be all healed up by the end of the week?”

Danny glances up, then continues covering it with new bandage, large enough to cover the entire wound. “Hopefully,” he says. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and can figure out a way to get home.”

“Your folks gonna look out for you?”

“Probably. I’m not planning on telling them, though, since they’ll get way too overprotective. The only reason they’re not tearing Gotham apart looking for me is because I came here with my godfather and he told them we’d be gone for two weeks. Can’t believe he tried to kill me on day one…”

“Your godfather tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Not personally, or anything, but he definitely hired the guy who shot me. Though he also yelled at him for shooting me? Not sure what that’s about, but I never trusted the guy and he didn’t try to help me afterwards when I ran away, so. You know.”

Duke wants to have a conversation with Danny’s godfather. Maybe bring the other Robins along to make sure the message sinks in: Don’t touch Danny.

But Danny, acting so casual about his godfather trying to kill him, would be unhappy about it, and Duke would really rather be able to take care of him than be shut out for trying to take control of the situation.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he offers, instead of prying for details so he can hunt down his godfather. “You want a hug or something? I can’t really do much else, but if it can make you feel better about all this…”

Danny brightens and shoves the first aid kit away, his shirt (one of Duke’s old ones he offered up to replace the bloodstained one) falling to cover the bandage. “Please. I would love a hug, dude, I don’t remember the last time I felt so lonely.”

Carefully, Duke wraps his arms around Danny, leaning back so Danny could relax fully and not worry about holding himself up. Danny sighs into the hug, going fully limp as he drops his forehead onto Duke’s shoulder.

“Thanks for this. And everything,” Danny says some time later. He doesn’t move to pull away, so Duke stays as he is, watching the weak sunlight slowly move across the warehouse as it spills in from dirty windows.

“You don’t need to thank me. I mean, I’m a Robin.” He brings up a hand to tap a finger against the R embroidered into his jacket. “It’s what we’re here for.”

It’s been years since he saw Danny. After he was fully healed, Duke helped him get to city limits, watching as he boarded a bus and disappeared down the road, leaving his life just as suddenly as he entered it.

After spending so much time together, quiet hours of stillness just looking out for each other, his life feels emptier without Danny in it. He knew it wouldn’t last, that Danny would go home eventually, but it didn’t make the parting any easier.

Even now, as Signal, taking a break from going on missions with the Outsiders to spend some time with the Bats, his thoughts drift towards Danny, wondering if he’s alright. In his darker moments, he wonders if Danny’s godfather has tried to kill him again, if he’s succeeded. In calmer, happier moments, he remembers Danny’s quiet stories about his family, his town, all his dreams and hopes for the future, remembers the easy company and how Danny didn’t look at him with pity when talked about his parents, just quiet and contemplative.

Sometimes, he can’t resist the urge to look him up, but there are so many Danny’s out there that he doesn’t know where to start. He never got Danny’s last name or learned when he came from.

It’s not like he can just ask the Bats for help finding a guy he knew for two weeks before he ever joined them. They’re all busy with their own missions, and definitely don’t have time for Duke’s reminiscing.

“Just caught sight of the truck entering city limits,” Oracle says in his ear. “It’s heading towards the Coventry.”

“On it. Any movement from the mobs?”

“None yet. I expect this to change soon. Red Hood and Black Bat are patrolling nearby if you need backup.”

“Got it. Signal out.”

His comline shuts with a little click, and then he’s grappling over the roof tops, keeping an eye on the roads in search of the truck. He doesn’t have time to think of Danny anymore, not when a shipment of new, experimental weapons is passing through Gotham. Spoiler had heard a few whispers of it and Red Robin helped find more solid details; the mobs are all looking to take the shipment for themselves in an attempt to get the upper hand in the nonstop fight for control of Gotham’s streets.

It’s passing through during the day, visible and a good move to keep from being ambushed at night, but it’s not enough to stop mobs hoping to take out their competition with new weapons. Duke enters the Coventry just as his comline beeps once and Oracle begins giving him specific directions, along with a brief description of what the truck looks like.

Apparently, the weapons are being moved in a U-Haul rental truck. That is… certainly a Choice™ to make for moving weapons around the country.

He follows it from the rooftops, but nothing happens. The truck passes through the Coventry without incident and takes a turn that keeps it away from Crime Alley and the Bowery. It gets to the middle of East End then pulls to a stop in the parking lot of a diner.

Two people get out and stretch, then head in to get something to eat.

It would be the perfect time for someone to break in. Duke pulls the light over himself, manipulating it to make him disappear from sight as he looks down from the edge of the rooftop, tense and prepared for anything.

He almost doesn’t see it at first. It’s just a flicker, a flash of color, a shift in the shadows across the street. But he does see it, even if he can’t find it again, and drops down from the roof, creeping towards the truck.

Duke waits, holding his breath, off to the side of the parking lot.

A minute passes. And then a figure materializes out of thin air, floating right behind the truck. All Duke can see is white hair and a black body suit; they’re either a meta or an alien, but either way, Duke is ready to take them down.

The figure lifts their hands and a bolt of neon green energy hits the truck, melting the back and leaving a large hole that gives them direct access to the weapons. And then they shoot again, destroying the weapons.

“Phantom!” someone shouts, and the truck driver comes tearing out of the restaurant, a white gun in his hand. His companion follows, her gun also out, and the begin shooting.

Phantom dodges the blasts, then vanishes from sight. He reappears behind them a moment later, tackling back of them into the side of the truck.

“No you don’t!” Duke say, rushing forward as he pulls at the shadows around him then sends them racing towards Phantom, restraining them. The driver and his companion collapse onto the ground, groaning weakly, and Duke grits his teeth. “O, send someone to look after the people moving the weapons. Apprehending an attacker now.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, tightening the shadow’s grip on Phantom, who struggles fiercely.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he says, pulling Phantom closer to him.

Phantom doesn’t answer. They just scream, the force of it making Duke fall back. His shadows dissipate, and Phantom flies up.

“Get back here!”

Duke gives chase, dropping in and out of shadows, throwing some at Phantom in the hopes of catching him again. But Phantom is fast and it takes all he has to keep up as they cross Gotham.

He thought Phantom was flying around blindly, but the way they move across the roofs and then through the streets are too confident, too focused to be anything other than someone with a destination in mind. But where? Where could they be going? If they’ve been in Gotham, then Duke would have heard of them.

A flying, powerful meta with a multitude of powers? Yeah, he would have known about them.

Phantom flies through a wall and Duke curses, going onto the roof and looking around, waiting to see them fly out. But they don’t and Duke finds a broken skylight to drop in from, landing on the support beams of the warehouse, well above the ground.

He knows the warehouse, he realizes suddenly. It’s the warehouse Danny hid in while he was healing. Duke hasn’t been back in years.

“Just listen to me, please,” a voice says behind him, and Duke tense, spinning around to face Phantom, floating just out of reaching distance. “Those weapons are dangerous. No one should have them, it’s why I had to destroy them. Please, you can’t let them get those weapons out.”

Duke stares. Something about Phantom is familiar. The shape of his face, maybe. His voice. Maybe it’s just because he’s in the warehouse again, with someone pleading for his help.

Maybe it’s all in his mind.

“Danny?”

Phantom flinches, floating back a few inches. “What— How—”

“What happened? Is it your godfather again?”

“My— Duke? Is that you?!”

He definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but Danny’s here. Danny’s here in front of him, needing help, and he doesn’t need the Signal. He needs Duke.

He pulls off his helmet and lifts his bare face to Danny.

“Oh,” Danny breathes. “Well. I guess I should have known you’d be a hero. Can you help me one last time?”

“Yeah, of course Danny. Tell me what you need.”

“Those weapons, they were first made to kill me and others like me. It’s a whole thing I don’t have time to explain. But they’ve been changed to affect humans, all types of people, as well. I can survive a few hits from those weapons, but for most people, it would kill them instantly. I need to destroy all of them and stop any further production before the rest of the world gets a hold of them.”

“That’s why you—”

“They have to be destroyed,” Danny says. “And the people making and selling them need to be stopped. I can’t do it on my own. I’ve tried, but…”

“I’ll help,” Duke says, “I’ll help. This is a big enough problem to bring the Outsiders into it. Or the Bats, but they like to stay in Gotham.”

Danny floats closer, looking painfully relieved. “Really? They’ll be able to put an end to this?”

Duke reaches for him. “Yeah. they can do it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Danny’s feet land on the support beam as his hand meets Duke’s. They balance above the rest of the warehouse, drinking in the sight of each other. Duke rubs his thumb over Danny’s knuckles in soothing circles and watches as the tension begins to fall away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Duke,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you—”

The door below is kicked open, and a gunshot rings out.

Moving on instinct, Duke tackles Danny, wrapping him up in his arms as they fall off the support beam. They hit the ground hard, rolling a bit, and Duke tucks Danny into his chest, bodily protecting him.

“Narrows!”

The Red Hood stands over him, menacing, a gun pointed at him.

“Hood?” He loosens his grip on Danny. “What the hell was that for?”

“Thought you needed back up. You chased after our guy and lost your helmet, I think I’m right to be a little worried about you. So, who’s this?” There’s a hard edge to his voice, and Duke realizes with a sinking heart that all anyone else sees is an aggressor, a meta who attacked a truck full of weapons, attacked two people, and had to be chased down by the Signal. Jason’s seeing a threat and acting accordingly, putting Duke’s safety first.

And with his helmet off, identity clear, Danny’s even more dangerous now that he has this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispers to Duke. He doesn’t have time to ask for what? before Danny’s shooting another beam of green energy at Jason then taking off, flying through the roof and out of sight.

“Shit,” Jason mutters, straightening up from where he ducked to avoid being hit, then puts his gun away and kneels next to Duke. “You alright? Why’d you let him go? I thought you had him.”

“I’m fine. He’s not… He wasn’t going to hurt me. He just needed help.”

“Sure. And what are you not telling me?”

“I knew him. He’s a good person, but he’s been in danger for a long time. This was him trying to protect others from what he went through.”

Jason takes off the helmet and stares at him. Then he sighs and reaches a hand down to help Duke to his feet. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s head back to the truck. You have until then to convince me that they’re the problem, and if they are, then I’ll help you blow up more of their weapons.” He claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder, then pulls his helmet back on. “Grab your helmet. We’re wasting daylight, Narrows.”

There’s nothing else he can do, no way to search for Danny when there are other leads to chase, so Duke grapples up to the catwalk where his helmet landed and grabs it.

Just before he puts it on, he sees a flicker of white just outside the window he’s facing. He ducks his head to hide a smile. It’s almost like he’s stepped back in time; Danny’s here in Gotham, needing help and asking for it in the warehouse.

And though so much has changed in those years, there’s still one thing that Duke will ensure never changes: he’s Danny’s hero. Above Robin, or Signal, or anything else, Duke is Danny’s hero.

This time, he has the power to actually help Danny. He’s going to make sure no one ever hurts Danny again.

“Let’s go,” he says, jumping back down to Jason, helmet on. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dp x dc fanfic #prompt fill #my writing #gotta be honest i do Not know much abt the We Are Robin movement. have yet to read those comics....#also this definitely deviated a bit from your prompt. sorry!! still hope i got the main things you wanted to see #duke being dannys hero is something so special to me...#also it is his parents selling weapons and blueprints and things to the giw which is then given to the military for new weapons #a truly terrible pipeline #duke and jason and whoever else joins will find the source of the weapons. break into the fenton home. and dannys just there eating toast #in his pjs like. um hi guys did u need something? (and staring at duke like DUDE HELLO WTF??)#a mess of a situation :) not gonna write it bc i know it would get away from me and get so long #thanks for the prompt!!

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wtftarot · 27 days

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PAC: What are the truths you need to face

Another thanks to @lifeofaie for suggesting this pac. If you've got a pac idea feel free to send it to my inbox!

This one can be a little bit of a call-out, but I mean, it is a reading on what truths you need to face.

as always this reading is for entertainment purposes ONLY and is not a substitute for professional advice in any capacity. Remember use common sense and don't be a dumbass.

Pick either the Sword, the Cat or the Stars and head on to your reading

The Sword

This group is kinda heavy, please be gentle on yourself.

The High Priestess, Four/Cups, The Tower, and the Seven/Wands on the bottom of the deck.

So, y'all kinda already know what truths you need to face. The problem is you're fighting them off. Y'all may be asking spirit or your guides a lot of questions that you already know the answers to. I'm hearing 'where there's smoke there's fire". With the Tower here, there's one truth in particular that you know that if you let yourself look at it head-on, things will have to change. It could even be painful to look at it head-on, (if it is please have some support when you choose to face it) It's like, all the signs are there but you're still iffy on it. This could be a person who you've started to notice the red flags or a situation that you know is bad but you won't let yourself really focus on just how bad. A few of you I'm getting, keep reading romance/ what are they thinking PACs for a person that you know isn't treating you right and maybe ignoring when the readings tell you that. I'm not trying to be harsh or call anyone out. I don't think any of the truths this group is facing are easy, little ones. I'm actually hearing the word "catastrophic". I know how scary it is to face something that you know will hurt. Cause part of it is admitting that it hurt and actually letting yourself feel that hurt instead of pretending it's not there. You are so brave and so so fucking strong and you will get through this. The advice for you is this be gentle on yourself and fucking tough on the situation. This will be hard and you want to give yourself time and space to rest and rebuild your strength. Then kick its fucking ASS. Bad shitty work/living situation? Setting boundaries with a shitty fucking person? Digging yourself out of a mental health pit? All of these are fucking tough as hell but you survived, ya know what that makes you right? Tougher than hell, that's what. Be fuckin cut-throat when it comes to getting things to a better place and then REST, alright? Eat, drink a lot of water, and do things that make you happy. Cause this is fucking hard and you need to take care of yourself. You are smart and capable and you deserve fucking better. Another thing that your guides keep pushing is support, you fuckin need it. I dunno if y'all have been trying to deal with all of this alone or if you haven't told anyone you're struggling but you need to. I'm fuckin serious. Talk out loud to spirit if you have to, just saying things out loud or writing them down can really help you process what's going on in your head. I believe in y'all.

random ass vibes: 10:10, Blue, camping, birds, 90s, cat cartoons,

The Cat

The Emperor Rx, the Star, The World Rx, and the Eight/Cups on the back of the deck

Listen, I don't really do relationship advice but some of y'all need to be told that you can't change him. You can't and no, he won't change for you. And you shouldn't go into a relationship expecting a person to change. That's not for everyone, take it as it resonates. You need to take action towards what you want. Y'all are dreamers and that's awesome. It seems though, they're just staying dreams. I'm a Pisces moon, I'm not judging y'all at all when I say this but y'all really kinda live in a fantasy. Y'all seem to have this tendency to ignore what's in front of you for what it could be. The way it's coming through is that y'all are leaving so fucking much on the table that could EASILY be yours but the fantasy obviously is more than reality could ever be so that's where your mind wants to stay. Thing is, y'all know we don't live in a fantasy and you want to do better in reality. BUT you see the fantasy you have as how things "could" be and when you do act on your dreams and they don't match up to the fantasy, you feel inadequate. Like you're not reaching your potential. So, you get down on yourself and never want to pursue your dreams. I know it's hard to accept that reality can never meet the fantasy we build up in our heads. Reality is messy and in our fantasy we never have to shit or floss or maintain what we have, we just have it. The truth is having to accept that life will never be perfect. There is no perfect relationship, perfect job, or perfect life. No routine is going to magically fix your life. The people you love will always have traits that annoy you a little bit, just like you have traits that annoy them a little bit, but you love each other and know you're both worth mild annoyance. It's time to ground your ideas into reality and let them be imperfect. Let them breathe. Y'all are limiting yourself to the idea of perfection. Your life IS going to be a little fucked up and messy no matter what. Some of y'all ain't even perfectionists, you just don't believe in yourselves and use things not meeting your fantasies as evidence that you can't do it. I'm not getting much in the way of advice for y'all other than to act? If this is your group then I'm betting you've had an idea of what this has all been referring to for you and know what action comes with that. Good luck!

random ass vibes: Gilmore girls? starting tarot reading (hell yeah!) a good nights sleep, 122,

The Stars

Judgment Rx, Four/Pentacles, The Hermit Rx, Two/Swords Rx and the High Priestess on the back of the deck.

So, first thing is: that you can't manifest yourself past the time some things need to take. Some things just take time. Y'all seem to be holding on to this idea that you're not the active force in your own life making things happen? It feels like there's a person or a group of people, or maybe you believe in fate but there's something that y'all are endowing with more power in your life than you. It's like to you it doesn't matter what you want, what decisions you make because it'll work out how this other thing deems it should. Your judgment doesn't matter. Some of y'all even feel like you don't have a say in who YOU are. Y'all may have had or do have really controlling parental figures. But FUCK. That's devastating, y'all. I can't imagine feeling like you're not the driving force in your own life. Listen, I don't believe in fate, destiny, soul-mates, or "meant to bes" and I am not judging y'all if you do but fate isn't engineering every single little thing in your life. It's not all that serious, I promise. You can just do things. It's not all make-or-break-life-altering-weight-of-cosmic-destiny-on-your-sholders. Your life shouldn't be focused on figuring out what your fated path is and sticking to that rigidly. Why? Cause that's not life, babe. That's following a script. The truth for y'all is that you are the driving force in your life and you need to start trying to see yourself that way. And this reading is looking to be short cause it's kinda existential, but you have free will and can choose and act and change things. If there is a "path" it's a vague one and you're making the rest up as you go. You can just step off of it. Anytime. Head in any direction you want. You don't have to be with that person if you don't want to just cause someone said y'all were soul mates. You don't have to choose that career just cause it seems "fated", if you hate it, hate it and leave. YOU make the decisions.

random ass vibes: Russian Doll (tv show), 144, reds and yellows, thumb bone part that looks like a chicken leg lol? Disorientation by Katie Mack

#tarot reading #tarot #divination #tarot community #tarot cards #pick a card #pac reading #pick a pile #tarot readings #pick a card reading #pick a picture #wtftarot #tarotblr #pick a photo #intuitive

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cupid-styles · 7 months

Text

silk and rope 3

the final part of ddlg harry and little/submissive y/n!!!!

in which harry is a dummy, y/n gets a little too drunk, and thanksgiving is finally good for something.

word count: 8k

content warnings: daddy dom and little/submissive relationship, alcohol, a little bit of angst, SMUT!!! (anal play, squirting, dirty talk, breeding kink, public sub drop, public play if you squint, dumbification, tiny bit of pet play.. if I missed something pls lmk lol). as stated in the first two parts, I tried to make this as accurate as possible but there are likely some things that aren't correct!! im just a girl and im sorry if something isn't portrayed right!!!!!!

thank you for reading and loving these two, while this is the last formal part of their story I will definitely be writing check-ins and blurbs for them in the future!!! enjoy :)

masterlist | talk to me

part one | part two

. . .

It doesn't take Y/N very long to realize Harry's acting weird.

Well, maybe not weird, but different. He's acting differently than he has been for the past two months, and it's giving her a bit of whiplash. She notices that it started the day after she slipped when he dropped her off at home, when he latched a collar around her neck.

Her memory of that day is a little bit hazy; the events are more so glued together in blurry snapshots of pleasure and lust, but she does know that she had fallen into her little space while he was gone. He'd punished her for the whole butt plug incident, fucked her into oblivion, and then soaked in the tub with her before falling asleep next to her.

And really, it wasn't that different from their usual scenes. The dynamic was the same, as far as Y/N can remember, it may have just been a little bit more intense.

So why is Harry acting like this?

Instead of stopping by nearly every day to make sure she's eaten and rested, he'll just text her. If she hasn't eaten lunch or dinner yet, he'll order her food to her house instead of bringing her a homemade meal or stopping somewhere on the way. When he does come over, it seems like he's always in a hurry to leave — yesterday, he picked her up from a closing shift at the bakery and barely spoke to her in the car. He came inside, quickly cooked her a dinner, and left before she'd even finished eating, mumbling out some excuse about having to feed his sister's cat.

Worst of all, they haven't slept together in a week.

It's all overwhelming for Y/N, but this time, it's in the worst way possible. She feels incredibly down as the days go on, and she spirals and wonders what she did wrong to make him act this way. She can feel the breakup coming from a mile away, but she assumes that because it's Harry, he'll bake her a cake and buy her a kitten just because he doesn't want to be too mean about it.

She hates to admit it, but she's grown attached to Harry. And she really,��really doesn't want to let him go.

It's what led her to asking Naomi to grab lunch on her day off. Naomi hasn't reached out too much lately so it's been awhile since they'd seen one another, but she's known Harry far longer than she has.

(And yeah, Y/N feels kind of shitty about making plans with Naomi only to ask about Harry, but she has a nagging feeling that she's only kept her around because she feels bad she doesn't have friends outside of them.)

"I'm sorry, you and Harry are what?"

(She supposes she should have expected this type of response.)

"We're sleeping together," Y/N answers in a pathetic attempt to sound casual, keeping her eyes glued to the turkey sandwich on her plate, "But he's been acting kind of off lately, and I wasn't sure if you guys knew something I didn't."

"Well no one knew that," Naomi mutters, stabbing her fork into her salad and stuffing some lettuce into her mouth. "But to address your concerns, no, I don't know anything. Harry's notoriously private about his love life."

She clears her throat and nods. "I think he's gonna end things soon."

"Hmm, yeah," Naomi hums through a mouthful of food, "I don't think he does the whole friends with benefits thing. Lea tried once and he rejected her, it was kind of a mess. She couldn't stand to be in a room with him for like, two months."

"We're not sleeping with other people," Y/N quickly adds. "It's sort of an exclusive arrangement."

Still, Naomi shrugs her shoulders, and it doesn't soothe any of Y/N's worries.

"He may have told you that, but I honestly doubt it, babe. I'm sorry he broke your heart. He can be kind of an asshole in that way."

If anything, Y/N feels even worse now. The gears in her brain are turning too fast and she's starting to feel nauseous, putting the puzzle pieces together and envisioning what her life will be like without Harry after she's gotten so used to him taking care of her.

"Anyway, Bria is having a party this weekend," Naomi says, breaking her out of his spiraling thoughts, "You should come. It'll get your mind off things and you can find someone new to fuck."

She winces at her crude terminology, not because she's offended by it but because she thinks what she and Harry are doing is more than just fucking.

Aren't they?

Forcing down a sip of her Diet Coke, Y/N nods. "Yeah, I'll be there."

. . .

From: H

Can I come over tonight?

Y/N bites her lip as she reads Harry's text for the fourth time. Since getting home from lunch with Naomi, she's been stewing in a series of emotions: First, sadness, followed by frustration and anger, then sadness again, then acceptance. She's managed to occupy herself with some re-runs of Jeopardy, even if it reminds her of him.

She doesn't know what the right thing to do is. What if he wants to come over because he's ready to end things? She supposes she's just putting off the inevitable, but she's been broken up with enough times and she knows how much more painful this one will be. She's not prepared for that, even if she wants to be.

Sighing, she finally makes a decision, tapping her thumbs quickly against the screen.

Y/N: hey sorry i can't do tonight. think im coming down w something, i don't feel that well

H: Do you need anything? I can bring soup and medicine, whatever you need.

Y/N: no im ok, thank you tho

H: Let me know if you think of anything.

H: Maybe later this week if you're feeling better?

Y/N: yea maybe

Tears are already clouding her vision as she locks her phone and tosses it across her couch. Desperately, she wonders why the guy she's fallen for just can't like her back.

. . .

Harry knows he's fucking up.

He wants to smack himself across the face and tell himself to pull it together, but he can't. Every single cell and bone in his body is begging him to go over to Y/N's house and make it all better, and instead, he just sits on the couch, replaying those words over in his brain. Her swollen parted lips and eyes fluttered closed, the way it sounded so effortless falling from her mouth. I love you.

He wanted to say it back. But that wasn't part of the arrangement.

She wanted someone to dominate her, to take care of her. Who would be if he took advantage of something she said after nearly two hours of play, when she'd been in her little space all day? It wasn't something he felt morally right about, but he knows he wasn't being any better. He couldn't hold himself to high standards when he was pushing her away.

It's why he's so down and out on Saturday night. Normally, he'd be snuggled up with Y/N, watching some movie or TV show, usually after or before an intense scene. Sometimes it served as a precursor to foreplay with the way he'd stroke over her thighs and play with her hair, watching as she became increasingly restless. Other times, it's what they did to unwind, a form of aftercare for both parties.

But tonight, he's not doing that. He's at home alone, confused, because Bria just texted him that she's having a party tonight and everyone's there — including Y/N.

He doesn't like that she singles her out like that. He knows that some of the girls in the group don't particularly like her because she's quiet and shy and rather reserved about her personal life. (He understands why she's that way now.) He doesn't even think Naomi is a good friend to her, but he would never go out of his way to tell her that — ultimately, she's capable of making her own decisions. However, she'd sent him some excuse about not being able to hang out a few days ago, claiming that she was sick and yet, tonight she was at a party?

Harry couldn't live with that.

So he fires off a text to Bria, telling her that he'll be there soon, dressing quickly and throwing himself together. When he's driving over to Bria's place, he makes a mental promise to himself, pledging that as long as Y/N doesn't hate him, he won't return home without her.

. . .

Y/N is drunk, and she hates being drunk.

The last time she consumed a fraction of this amount of alcohol was the night she spilled her guts to Harry. Tonight, she's downed every shot that's been passed her way. She's not sure what she's looking to achieve — she doesn't want to go home with anyway and the only person she really wants to be with is Harry — and it makes her sad. So, so helplessly sad.

Despite being deep underwater, Y/N is cognizant enough to know that no one at this party really cares for her wellbeing. They were eager to get her drunk, but once she started swaying on her feet with hazy eyes, they stopped caring. Games of beer pong and flip cup were ongoing as she sat in the kitchen, propped up on the counter with her head against the cabinets.

She feels so stupid, it makes her want to cry.

. . .

Harry attempts to play it cool when he arrives at Bria's house.

Everyone welcomes him, excited that he made it, but they have no idea that his presence has nothing to do with wanting to party. He's here for the girl who begs him to snap a collar around her neck and push a plug into her ass. The girl he happens to be very in love with.

Naomi bats her eyelashes at him and hands him a glass of wine; an attempt to schmooze him when she tells him she picked out this bottle just for him. He smiles politely.

"Have you seen Y/N? Bria mentioned she was here."

Naomi's eyebrows raise, a defensive look crossing onto her face. "Why are you looking for her?"

"We just need to talk about something," he replies dismissively, uninterested in revealing any details to her, "So, is she here? Or did she leave already?"

She crosses her arms over her chest. "She got pretty fucked up when she got here. She's kind of a mess, y'know? I don't even know if she's here or not."

"What do you mean?" Harry asks, concern and worry bubbling in his stomach, "She doesn't like to drink."

"Well, she sure liked all the shots everyone was giving her."

He closes his hands into tight fists, stunned at how careless these people could be. He couldn't believe he considered them friends at a certain point.

"Where did you see her last?" he eventually questions, pushing past the anger growing in his chest.

Naomi thinks for a moment. "I think Ren may have passed her in the kitchen. Not sure, though."

She's apparently finished with this conversation, clearly annoyed that she didn't get what she wants (Harry knows she's been trying to recreate that one night they made out years ago, but he's never been especially interested). He huffs and pushes past everyone else standing around in the living room, ignoring anyone who tries to start a conversation. When he walks into the kitchen, his eyes immediately find her defeated posture, her shoulders slumped over with eyes half-shut.

"Y/N," he says, rushing over to her. He's not sure if she's even conscious, so he gently pats at her cheek. "Baby, are you alright?"

Her eyes flutter open, a look of confusion immediately taking over. "Harry?"

"Are you okay, Y/N? What happened?"

"Nothing," she mumbles through red-stained lips, "Why're you here?"

She's slurring her words and he swallows harshly, taking in her rough composure. She looks so tired and it breaks his heart to think that he could have caused this.

"Heard you were here and I wanted to make sure you were okay." he murmurs out, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, "Are you having a fun time?"

He already knows the answer when she shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowed. "No. Hate being drunk."

"I know, baby," Harry coos, "Would you be okay with me taking you home? Get you all cozy in your bed?"

If she's angry with him, her level of drunkenness has made her forget about those feelings because she nods, making grabby hands at him. He chuckles and helps her down from the countertop, immediately wrapping a supportive arm around her waist.

"My car's just parked outside. Do you think you can make it there?"

"Mhm."

With a gentle smile on his lips, he tugs her out of the kitchen and guides her to the front door. He can feel eyes on them and he assumes Naomi is likely leading the pack, but he doesn't care. Frankly, he's fine if this is the last time he sees most of these people — he doesn't think he wants to continue friendships with anyone who'd want to hurt Y/N.

She's quiet as he helps her into the car, buckling her seatbelt for her and closing the passenger side door once she's safe. He's quick to do the same for himself, churning the ignition and flicking the heat on to shield her from the chilly autumn air.

"Do you feel sick at all?" Harry asks as he pulls out of his parking spot. She shakes her head. "Okay, lemme know if that changes, lovebug."

They don't exchange any more words on the way to Y/N's place. Once he's parked, he turns to look over, only to find her slumped in her seat with closed eyes, steady puffs of air coming from her nose. His heart twitches — he wishes they were coming home from a date or something romantic, but he's reminded quite quickly of her drunken state.

He leaves her in the car for a moment to use his spare key to unlock her front door. When he returns, he gently scoops her body up and out of the car. Her eyes flicker open and he hushes her, kicking the door closed.

"Can walk," she mutters out, and he nods, letting her down once they're safely in her home.

"I didn't wanna wake you up, that's all."

Y/N shrugs and kicks her shoes off, though she loses her balance and sways, Harry quickly coming to her side to steady her by the elbow.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

He looks down at the doe-eyed girl in front of him, sniffling as the words float from her lips. His stomach flutters with anxiety as he watches her eyes get watery, immediately using his thumb to wipe away the moisture from spilling over.

"Why would you ask that?" he murmurs, placing a hand to her hip.

"You don't like me," Y/N answers matter-of-factly. "And you've been avoiding me."

He sighs. He knows this isn't the right time to talk things through, especially because she's only saying these things given her swimming mindset. He hates that her mind even floated to such places, but if he's being honest, he isn't surprised — he thinks he would assume similarly if their roles were swapped.

"Can we talk about this in the morning?" Harry asks softly.

She shrugs her shoulders, letting her gaze fall to her feet. "You can just do it now. I don't wanna remember anything you have to say if that's the case."

"Y/N, stop it," he says with a shake of his head, attempting to guide her up the stairs. He's slightly impressed that despite her wobbly legs, she stays put. "I'm not ending things."

"Why wouldn't you?" she fires back, looking back up at him with a defiant look in her eyes, "You promised me you'd take care of me and— and for the past week or so, you've done anything but. You've just stressed me out and made me feel bad."

Harry swallows as guilt begins to crawl its way back up his spine. He knows she's right. She has every right to be upset.

"I know," he mumbles, nodding his head, "I know. I haven't been a good dominant. I'm sorry."

"That's a shit excuse. I've heard that so many times before from guys who didn't treat me right from the start. You're different, Harry."

"Y/N..." he's getting frustrated now, disgruntled by how stubborn she apparently gets when she's drunk, "You're right about everything, but this isn't the time to talk this through. I want to do it when you're sober."

She rolls her eyes and if things were normal, Harry knows he would've grabbed her by the hips and leaned her over the steps to spank her. Instead, he lets out a breath and nudges her in the direction of her bedroom.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed."

Y/N's protests cease after that and Harry's secretly grateful for it. She's sobered up enough to take her makeup off and change into her pajamas as he fetches her a glass of water and some Advil to take. He places them on her nightstand as she crawls into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin.

"Your apartment's still freezing," he murmurs, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "I'll call a repair guy tomorrow."

"Are you staying then?" she asks softly, letting her eyes close the second she smushes her cheek into the pillow.

"I will if you'd like me to."

"Okay," she mumbles, "I hope you don't break up with me tomorrow."

He lets out what feels like the thousandth sigh that evening. "Stop saying that. I'm not going to."

Y/N simply shrugs.

. . .

The next morning, Y/N wakes up with a throbbing headache. Before she even opens her eyes, she can feel embarrassment warming every cell of her body, but she can't place a finger on why. She knows something happened last night but things get a little... blurry at a certain point; her last solid memory taking shots with Naomi and Lea. From there, she has a small inkling of what happened, mainly just recalling her sitting in the kitchen by herself when she started feeling woozy and tired.

When she finally blinks her mascara-crusted eyes open (she thought she took her makeup off last night, but maybe she did a shit job of it), she nearly jumps when she realizes there's someone laying next to her.

That someone being Harry.

He has his reading glasses on and he's scrolling on his phone. Through squinted eyes, she reads the words heat repair guy best ratings in his Google search. When he realizes that she's awake, he locks his phone and clears his throat.

"Hey," he says, licking his lips, "How are you feeling?"

"Confused," she croaks out, lifting her head slightly to look up at him, only to be met with a pounding ache in her temples.

"Here, be careful," he mumbles, leaning over to his side to grab something from the nightstand. He hands here two pieces of toast and two Advil. "You should eat this before you take anything. You were pretty wasted last night, I figured your hangover would be rough."

She hums in appreciation and takes a bite of the toast, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. "What are you doing here?"

He's not surprised that the details are hazy for her, so he flips onto his side to face her. "Bria told me about the party and mentioned you were there. I wanted to see you so I went, but you were, um, drunk and... by yourself. I took you home, that's all."

"Hm," Y/N nods, "Yeah, I remember getting drunk with everyone. I don't remember you being there except for us arguing here."

"We didn't really argue. You were just being... stubborn."

"About what?"

Harry sighs. "You wanted to talk about the state of our relationship and were convinced I was going to break up with you."

A beat. And then, "Oh."

"That was never my plan, by the way," he replies, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers, "I was never going to end things."

She shrugs her shoulders and places her empty plate on the floor, tossing back the Advil.

"I know I haven't been the best to you lately. I've been having a hard time trying to figure out how to approach things."

"Approach what?" she bites, laying back down. "I— all I know is that one day things were fine, and the next they weren't. You weren't being the same and I didn't know what I did wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong," he shakes his head, "Just... you said something. When you were in your little space."

"I say a lot of things when I'm in my little space."

"Yeah, but this was... like, different."

"How, different?"

"More serious, I guess."

"Harry," she huffs, fisting the comforter in her hands, "I can't guess something I said when I wasn't being myself."

"You told you love me."

Y/N's head whips to the side and she immediately winces, shutting her eyes. He cringes and reaches out to touch her temples, gently applying a bit of pressure and rubbing them. It's silent for a moment as he massages her head.

"I'm sorry," she eventually mumbles, "You were probably freaked out. I'm sure I didn't mean to say it."

"Don't be sorry. I would never hold your emotions against you."

Still, she wants to hide her face in the blankets. She's embarrassed, that much is obvious. She doesn't even know if she actually loves Harry; a lot things come out when she's in her little space, some of which she means and some of which she doesn't. She supposes it's fair that he seems so freaked over it.

"I wish you told me sooner. I could've... explained myself. Maybe."

"Explained yourself?"

Y/N shrugs and lays back against the pillows. Harry follows her lead, tilting his neck so he can look at her.

"I can't say for certain that I love you or not, I've never been in love," she explains quietly, feeling her cheeks warm at the unexpected vulnerability spilling out of her, "Don't you think you could say things when you're dominating me that you don't necessarily mean? You degrade me sometimes and I know those things aren't true."

Harry thinks for a moment, pinching his lip between his fingers. "I guess, yeah."

"I would tell if you if I knew for sure, Harry. But I don't."

He nods and rolls onto his back. He doesn't know why but he feels... sad? Let down, maybe? He'd been under the impression that she loved him and, well... maybe he was okay with that.

"I'm sorry." she repeats softly. He shakes his head and reaches out for her hand, grasping it gently and giving it a small squeeze.

"Don't be. It was stupid. I overreacted."

"Thank you for rescuing me last night," Y/N murmurs, squeezing his hand back.

He pushes down the feelings of disappointment and forces a small smile on his lips.

"Anytime."

. . .

Harry tries to go back to normal after that.

He stops being so avoidant, which makes a big difference. He and Y/N are back to their near-daily hangouts, and it's easy to fall back into the routine they established before any of this happened. They're even having sex again, with Y/N readily falling into her little space every time he ties her to the bed, overstimulates her until she's crying, and fucks her open with his cock until he comes deep inside her. They never use condoms anymore, either, and the added layer of intimacy only contributes to what Harry realize shortly after that morning in Y/N's bed: he's in love with her.

He guesses he's known it for awhile, he just didn't want to admit it to himself. But when she explained why she said it, he felt so bummed that it only made sense. He'd wanted her to love him.

But Y/N is Y/N, shy and oblivious and rarely the first to bring up her feelings, so he leaves it at that. He can't think of a worse fate than them actually ending things for good this time, so he keeps his emotions to himself, locked up tight for no one to ever know.

This is a good method, he decides.

Until they're in Y/N's favorite bookshop, perusing through the section titled "BookTok" (he doesn't know what that means, but she clearly does since she has a stack of four books in her hand) and he sees it.

The familiar moony-eyed gaze, batted eyelashes, spit swollen lips. Tugging at his hand, latching onto his arm every second she can, when the word falls from her lips.

"Daddy."

He looks down with wide eyes. She never calls him that when they're in public, but now she's blinking owlishly, nibbling on the fingernails of the hand that isn't attached to Harry's arm.

"Are you alright, baby?" he asks quietly, brushing a piece of her hair out of her eyes.

"Mhm," she nods, grinning up at him, "Feeling little. 's that okay?"

He smiles gently, loving this side of her, but concerned that it's happening when they're out and about. He's never experienced a sudden sub drop before, but he knows that he doesn't want to make her feel unwanted, as if she's doing anything wrong.

"Of course, bunny," he murmurs. "Can daddy take you home, then?"

"Yes, please. Startin' to ache."

With raised eyebrows, he nods quickly, lightly tugging her head in the direction of the register. He buys her books for her, grateful that she's decided to occupy herself with the sticker display before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her to his car. He buckles her in to make sure she's safe, her books piled neatly in her lap, and gets in on the other side.

She's quiet as she flips through one of her new novels while Harry periodically glances over at her to make sure she's doing alright. It's only when she starts squirming in her seat that he puts a hand over her thigh, squeezing gently.

"We'll be home soon, baby. Just hang in there for me."

"Hurts," she pouts, and Harry's heart jumps, "Please— can I— will you?"

He swallows, quickly looking over as she wiggles around. In any other situation, he'd say no — they have a pretty firm no-touching-herself rule when he's not there, but he's never seen her drop into her little space so suddenly before. Hesitantly, he nods, stopped at a red light as he reaches up to pluck at the waistband of her leggings.

"Does my baby just need to cum?" he asks as she quickly shimmies the material down.

"Need you to touch me." she whines, hooking her thumbs under her panties and sliding them to the middle of her thighs.

"Okay, okay," he murmurs. The light turns green and he presses on the gas, moving his hand up to hover over her core. Even with the distance between them, he can see how much she's glistening. "Did you make a mess for daddy? Just walking around, having a nice day, and your little pussy got all wet for me?"

"Yes," she gasps, spreading her pussy lips with his fingers.

He begins to thumb at her clit, pressing small circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves. She's already whimpering in her seat, eyes falling closed as she wraps her own hand around his wrist, pulling him closer.

"F-feels so good," Y/N mewls, grinding her hips down in time with his hand.

"Such a good girl for daddy," he tries to ignore the straining in his pants as her arousal readily coats his fingers just from a few swirls around her clit. "Cum for me whenever you're ready, bunny. Show me how good you are."

Thankfully, he's turning onto his street as the knot in her core unravels, breathy whimpers and broken calls of his honorific a clear indicator that she's reached her peak. He groans as he feels her pussy contracting, back arched against the leather of the seat.

"Fuck," he mutters, pulling into the driveway, "You're so fucking beautiful."

She barely has a second to breathe before he throws the car in park and unbuckles her seatbelt. He grabs her face between his hands and smushes their lips together, a surprised squeak sounding from her mouth.

"D-daddy," she gasps, her lips curling into a smile as he squeezes her hip.

"My good girl, yeah?" he grins, breaking apart to press their foreheads to one another. "You make daddy so happy."

Y/N giggles. She's still in her floaty headspace but with one orgasm in, it's less desperate and more bubbly. A reminder of how much she adores Harry, even with the rose-tinted glasses of her little space.

"Need more," Y/N breathes, leaning back in to peck his lips, "Please? Want your cock, want you to— to cum deep inside me."

"I know, bunny." he coos, ignoring the way his length twitches in his pants at her needy tone. He reaches up to press a kiss to her forehead. "C'mon, let's go inside. Wanna take you properly."

As soon as she nods, Harry clamors out of the car and winds around to the other side to open the door for her. With her pile of books in her hand and her flushed cheeks, evident of a recent orgasm, he intertwines their fingers together and helps her to the front door, quickly unlocking it.

Harry's no psychiatrist or expert on the manner, but one of the most interesting parts of Y/N being in her little space is that she doesn't even necessarily realize what she's doing. They've spoken about it before and she's revealed that there have times where she's been so deep under, she doesn't have all of her memories. It's a scary thought, but in a stroke of complete and utter honesty, she's explained to him that she trusts him implicitly — to take care of her when her brain is fuzzy, to never take advantage of her or push her beyond her limits.

Truthfully, Harry should've known then that he was in love with her.

And when she waltzes into his apartment, placing her books on the entryway table like she lives here, he's immediately wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer, until her back is pressed up against his chest. She giggles out his honorific and it makes him smile into her hair — god, he loves her so much it might make him sick — before he mumbles out instructions to go upstairs to get undressed for him.

As always, she does as she's asked, ever keen on pleasing him. He gives her a moment as he stands at the bottom of the stairs, taking a deep breath and running his hand over his face. He's never felt so gone over a girl before, and he's managed to keep it together with Y/N this far — but seeing the way she slipped today and knowing it's just another way of showcasing how deeply she trusts their relationship... it's almost too much.

When he does go upstairs, he's instantly reminded of how uncomfortably hard he is. His eyes wander over her naked body, sprawled out across his bed, her feet flat on the bedding with her legs arched at the knee. She's being good — there have been times where he's found her already toying with her clit or sinking the tip of her finger in, but her hands are at her sides today.

"Good girl," Harry murmurs out as he undoes his belt, the leather falling to the floor. "Tell daddy what you want."

She hums, likely unused to getting a say in the foreplay of their scenes. He realizes that she may not know how to answer, so he attempts to help her along.

"Do you wanna be plugged in your bum? Tied up? Edged?" he asks, clad only in his briefs as he places a knee on the bed and wraps a hand around her ankle. "Tell me why daddy's girl needs."

"Want a plug, please," she says softly, allowing him to stretch her legs out, "Just... just wanna be filled."

"Filled, hm?" he teases lightly, reaching under the bed to rifle through the small box of sex toys. She had a bit of a collection of plugs at home, so she'd brought over a few to keep at his place a month or so back (that had been an interesting day, when he thought she had books or extra clothes in her tote bag only to be met with toys). He pulls out the smallest one since, if he's being honest, the need to be inside her is overwhelming, and he doesn't know how long he can play with her ass before he loses his mind.

"Flip onto your tummy, angel girl." he instructs as he pulls his tee and sweatshirt off. She silently does as she's told, pressing her cheek into one of Harry's pillows. She's instantly flooded with scents of his shampoo and cologne, woody and musky and intensely comforting, and it makes her squeeze her thighs together.

Everything about him makes her warm and gooey inside, as if she's coming to the one place — or person — that always feels like home, no matter how awful of a day she's had. Akin to struggling through a snowstorm, the chill pinging through her body and down to her bones; when she's with Harry, it's like being served her favorite bowl of warm soup and being wrapped in a fuzzy blanket fresh out of the dryer.

Harry is her home.

She's floating through this revelation when he pushes her ass cheeks apart, a soft gasp sounding from her mouth when he runs a lubed fingertip around the ring of muscles.

"Such a pretty hole," he murmurs, and she whimpers when she feels him spit, the saliva landing on her asshole, "Love filling you up, you know that? Every last one of these gorgeous holes."

She moans when he fits his finger inside, pushing it all the way to the knuckle. He knows she's experienced with anal so he doesn't feel like he has to be as precious about the process, knowing that she adores the sensation.

"Too bad daddy'll never share you with anyone though. No one will ever get to see how your ass and pussy squeeze around me... that's just for daddy, isn't it?"

Y/N muffles through a moan and he tuts as he pushes a second finger in.

"That's not an answer, bunny. Try again."

She shutters out a sigh and slowly blinks her eyes open, trying her to best not to be overwhelmed by him stretching her out.

"'s just for you, daddy."

"What is, angel?"

"My holes, daddy."

"Good girl," he mumbles, withdrawing his fingers. His cock twitches as he watches her ass gape ever so slightly, the loss of anything inside instantly making her feel empty. It's quickly over, though, because he's rubbing the tip of the lubed plug over her hole. "Deep breath, sweetheart, you know the drill."

Despite doing this numerous times, the stretch never quite gets old for Y/N. (Admittedly, Harry never tires of the view, either.) When her muscles swallow up the thick of the plug, revealing the pink bejeweled end, he groans, tapping it lightly.

"Does that feel better, baby?"

"Uh-huh."

"What do you say?"

"Thank you, daddy."

He smirks and gently pats the backs of her thighs, a wordless gesture to flip back over. She does, her eyelashes fluttering at the feeling of the plug slightly wiggling inside of her, pressing deep against her walls.

She leans up onto her elbows, watching as he palms his length through the material of his underwear. With wide eyes, she looks up at him, trying to ignore the way she can feel her arousal dripping down the inside of her thighs, making a sticky mess.

"What, bunny? Why are you looking at me like you're expecting something?"

Y/N pouts and Harry has to try not to smirk down at her.

"Use your words, angel."

Her pout deepens. They both know what she wants — her pussy is all but screaming for attention — and it's embarrassing to have to admit it. She adores the way he knows her body, but he's clearly feeling just a little meaner tonight by making her verbalize all of the filthy things running through her brain.

"Want you here, daddy." She mumbles cutely, bucking her hips up slightly. He hums and uses a finger to stroke over her mound, down to her crease where her juices are steadily collecting.

"Here?" He asks mockingly, teasing her folds with light movements. It's not enough for her to receive any pleasure, instead just causing her to wiggle around as she attempts to guide him to her pulsating hole.

"Inside," she all but huffs, and he chuckles, removing his touch altogether.

"Ah, where'd my good girl go?" He smirks, "You know that's not how you ask. Plus, if you keep squirming around like this, I'll have to tie you up."

Her stomach clenches at the thought; he's always more keen on edging her until she's crying when he ties her up. She's not in the mood for that tonight — she already feels like he's been edging her by refusing to give into her — so she puffs out a breath, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

"Want you in my pussy, please."

"That's all you had to say, baby," Harry murmurs. She wants to roll her eyes but she knows she'll only get spanked for it, so she nods, reveling in the sensation of his hands back on her as he separates her lips, a cooing sound forming from the back of his throat at his eyes gaze over her swollen pussy. "You have a filthy little pussy. Did you know that, bunny?"

She shakes her head.

"Don't lie to daddy," he utters, delivering a swift slap to her clit. It makes her gasp, the quick sting that's gone just as quickly as it came. "You wouldn't be begging for my cock all the time if you didn't."

Some form of an "uh huh" leaves her mouth and he chuckles. Slowly, his fingertip trails down her crease and to the place she needs him most, circling her hole once before pushing in. Her back arches and her eyes squeeze closed, immediately grateful to finally receive something.

"You'll take anything I give you, won't you?" Harry continues as he pumps his finger, "My fingers, my tongue. My cock, of course. Even my cum — made you daddy's little cumslut, didn't I?"

She moans loudly and nods her head, her hair forming messy knots at the friction.

"L-love it," she stutters, the knot in her stomach winding up tightly, "Love feeling your cum inside me, daddy."

"I know you do." He purrs, pushing another finger in. "Bet you'd let me get you all swollen with it if I wanted. Carrying my baby around like the little slut you are."

They're both too wound up to even realize what he's said. They've never breached this territory before, never even considered if a future was in the cards for them. But Y/N's already whining over it before Harry has a chance to second guess himself, her pussy squeezing his fingers rapidly; a telltale sign that her peak is but a few moments away.

"I would, I would," she chants as she pants loudly, "Fuck— fuck, I'm yours, daddy, I—"

Her words are cut off by the throaty moan that parts her lips, the rope in her core finally splitting. It's so much, so good, her muscles contracting around his fingers as he works her through it, never ceasing his praises.

"There's my girl."

"So fucking beautiful for me."

"God, I got so lucky with you. Fuck."

Her pussy is drooling over his hand now, leaking down to the plug still firmly inside of her. He bites his lip at the visual, her hole still throbbing in haphazard pulses as he frees his cock from the confides of his underwear, desperate to feel her.

With fluttering eyes, she blinks her eyelashes open as she watches him, her mind filled with fuzzy static. She doesn't even realize she's leaked spit out of her mouth until he smiles gently, using soft fingertips to wipe it away.

"Already cock dumb, sweetheart?"

She nods.

"Can you take more, or are you done? Squeeze my hand if you want to be done."

She doesn't — although her mind is bleary and struggling to string together coherent thoughts, the idea of not having Harry inside of her seems terrible. She can tell he looks concerned (his eyebrows are knit together ever so slightly as he strokes up and down her arm, waiting for her to say her safe word), but she has no plans of breaking now.

"More," her mouth finally forms around the syllables, pushing it out hoarsely, "Can do it."

"Yeah?" he asks through raised eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

Again, she nods. Hesitantly, he shimmies up the length of her body, knees pressed into the comforter with his length hot and heavy in his palm.

"You know what to do if it's too much. Safe word or squeeze my hand three times."

And then finally — finally — after what seems like hours of teasing and edging (and, quite frankly, it could have been hours; Y/N's too foggy to know), he pushes his cock inside of her and everything feels right. So right, so good, so perfect.

Her jaw drops open and she leans her head against the crook of his neck, his own groans filling the otherwise quiet room. They're not typically this silent, especially when he first enters her — she's usually whimpering and he's teasing her, calling her a dog in heat or something along those lines — but it's just so... fulfilling, and satisfying, that she can't even put it into words.

When he builds up to a steady pace, mewls begin to break free from her throat, her eyes rolling back as she lays down against the pillows again. He leans back onto his heels and pushes her thighs up against her knees, looping his arms around them to keep her there. He's far deeper that way — they can both feel it — and he gets the prettiest views of her fucked out face and plugged up ass.

"Shit — you're so good, my fuckin' girl."

Too hazy to answer, she just nods, echoing his words. "Your girl."

"Yeah? Gonna take my cum, sweetheart? Want me to fuck it deep into you?"

"P-please," she babbles, reaching down between their bodies to play with her clit, "Want— want your babies, wanna be yours, please daddy."

"My sweet girl wants to be a mama?" he's clenching down his teeth so harshly he's nervous he may break something, "I'll give you anything, baby, pump my cum so deep in your womb you won't even remember your fuckin' name."

Chants of please, please, please are all that can leave her at this point, deft fingers rolling over her clit as she feels her third orgasm rapidly approaching. He knows it, too, and he groans at the sensation of her pussy clenching over his cock.

"Cum for me one more time and I'll do it. My fertile little pussy, hm? Pretty fucking girl gonna be the prettiest mama."

That's all it takes for her to explode around him, this time gushing out clear bursts of liquid. He groans and curses, the sight instantly sending him to his own edge. In the back of his mind, he knows that squirting all over his torso and legs will put her to the final brink of exhaustion, and he's internally grateful that he can let go and make good on his promise to her.

So, he does. He finishes deep inside her, pushing his hips all the way up against her bum as his balls throb and empty, fucking his cum as far as it'll go. They're a mess of liquids and sweat and they both know it's gross, but there's not a single place either one of them would rather be.

When her eyelashes flitter open and she looks up at him, an exhausted smile forming on her lips, he swears he's never seen anything more beautiful.

. . .

"What are your plans for the holidays?"

Harry raises his eyebrows as he spoons some more miso soup into his mouth. It's a gloomy Saturday evening, with the temperatures finally dropping down to appropriate autumnal climates. Y/N came over this morning to pick up a book he recommended for her, but — as if either one hadn't expected it — ended up staying all day, basking in the cozy glory of Harry's apartment. They snuggled up on the couch, watching Jeopardy reruns, taking turns napping and retrieving snacks and drinks for the other.

"Well," he clears his throat, "I'm not American so I don't really celebrate Thanksgiving. And Christmas is a bit far away, so I'm not sure. Why?"

She shrugs, pulling her knees up to her chest. "My sister was asking if I'm coming home for Thanksgiving."

"Ah. Are you?"

"I hadn't really thought about it."

"Why? Isn't it coming up?"

She nods her head, occupying her fingers with a loose thread at the end of Harry's tee shirt that she had thrown over her body.

"Yeah. I just... I don't know if it's stupid, but I was curious about what you were doing. Before I made any decisions."

Harry's heart thumps in his chest, his entire body warming at her taking his plans into consideration.

"That's sweet of you, baby. Hadn't really thought about it, though."

Again, she nods, and he thinks that may be the end of the conversation. He doesn't want to impose, especially since he thinks he's been doing particularly well with the whole not-confessing-his-love thing, so he unmutes the TV and directs his attention back to the screen.

"Wait!" she blurts out, and he mutes it again through furrowed brows, "What if you... like, came with me?"

"For Thanksgiving?"

"Yeah," she bites her lip, nerves apparent on her face, "It's no pressure, my sister's hosting just 'cos she just bought a house with her girlfriend and they have two dogs that are really cute, and my dad might be there but he's not one of those weird hover-y dads that care about who I bring around, not that he wouldn't care but it would be weird to have to explain how we met, and my mom is probably spending it with my step-dad so it'll be pretty low-key, and—"

"Y/N." Harry cuts her off with a smirk before setting his bowl of soup down on the table. "Breathe. You're gonna pass out, I've never heard you talk so fast."

She takes a deep breath and he smiles, murmuring out a good as he turns to face her.

"I would love to come and celebrate Thanksgiving with you. That sounds really nice. Thank you for inviting me."

"Really?"

"Of course," he replies easily. "I love any time we spend together."

Her cheeks warm and she nods, as if she's convincing herself he's being truthful.

"Um... so, like, how should I introduce you?" she asks, and there are so many butterflies swarming Harry's stomach that he doesn't know if he can get any words out.

"Well... how would you like to introduce me?"

She shrugs her shoulders and rolls her lips into her mouth. "I mean, I don't know... maybe, like..."

And then she mumbles something, but it's so low that he can't hear a thing.

"I didn't hear that."

She repeats it, and Harry lets out a laugh when he still doesn't understand her.

"Baby, speak up. I can't hear you."

"WhatifIsaidyouweremyboyfriend."

"What?"

"WhatifIsaidyouweremyBOYFRIEND."

"Y/N, seriously, I don't know—"

"Boyfriend!" she exclaims, "What if I said you were my boyfriend?"

He can't fight the grin that breaks out onto his face, especially given her wide, exasperated eyes. He doesn't think he'll ever tire of teasing her.

"Is this you asking me to be your boyfriend?"

She groans and goes to rise from the couch, only to be quickly brought back down by Harry. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her towards him as his chest vibrates with laughter.

"Ask me properly."

She huffs, twisting in his lap. Swallowing nervously, she looks down, and he intertwines their fingers together.

"Harry... would you want to be my boyfriend?" she peers up at him through her eyelashes and he smiles that big, dimpled smile that she loves, and realizes she has nothing to worry about.

"I would love nothing more than to be your boyfriend."

He decides to save the I-love-you confession for another day, because he wants nothing more than to do things properly with her.

But when a matching toothy grin appears on her face, he mentally amends the one thing he got wrong about her: This is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

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