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munson-blurbs · 8 months

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

Summary: Still questioning your mothering abilities, you finally agree to take a pregnancy test. But when you run into an unexpected familiar face, it leads to some intimate conversations.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), angst, misunderstanding, mention of alcohol consumption, nausea, Reader takes a pregnancy test, mention of menstrual periods/tampons, panic attack, use of medication (prescribed), dirty talk, mutual masturbation, breeding kink, choking, submissive!Reader, mention of public sex (this chapter has a lot so please let me know if I missed something!)

WC: 10.1k

A/N: Thank you to @pastel-pillows, @corroded-hellfire, and @vintagehellfire for beta reading and helping with some dialogue. Y'all make me a horny better writer.

Chapter 17/20

Divider credit to @saradika Harris's card credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers

It’s been one week since you’ve seen Eddie. The phone is silent on the hook, regardless of how strongly you will it to ring.

A wave of nausea ripples through you and has you lunging for the Saltines box on the coffee table. It isn’t unusual for you to feel sick when you’re anxious, and this entire situation definitely has you on-edge. The Jerry Springer audience chants his name from the TV set, though you can barely pay attention to the brawl that’s about to occur.

One week ago, you and Eddie broke up. One week ago, you realized you might be carrying his baby. One week ago, you began what you’d dubbed Self-Pity Spring Break, which was essentially a week of you wallowing in misery and ignoring the nagging question that constantly infiltrates your thoughts.

The movement for the crackers allows you to get a whiff of the pajamas you’d been living in. You’d convinced yourself there was no need to shower since you were barely leaving your apartment, but the odor emanating from your clothes—and your skin—says otherwise. You resignedly stand up and grab a towel from the hall closet, scowling at the box of tampons that’s seemingly taunting you.

Fine, you silently relent, I’ll get a test today.

There’s a forceful knock on the door, and your heart leaps. Eddie. Eddie’s here, we can talk and figure this out–

“Hey, Hermit, you alive in there?” It’s Jess, speaking even as she knocks.

“Coming, coming,” you grumble, not even trying to feign excitement. Maybe it’s better that it’s not Eddie; you’re not sure what you’d even say.

“Jeez, you look awful,” Robin comments, clamping her lips together when Jess shoots her a glare. “Sorry.”

“You’re not wrong,” you mutter. You haven’t looked in the mirror in days, not wanting to confront the reflection staring back at you. Fingertips greasy with old potato chip residue, you wipe them on your pajama pants and sigh. “I feel like shit, too.”

Jess grabs your hand and gives it a little squeeze. “C’mon, let’s get you some wine,” she says kindly, already padding towards the kitchen in search of an open bottle. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

You shake your head, throat dry. “I, um, I shouldn’t.” An unspoken plea floats from your lips, begging her not to ask further questions, but you know better than to get your hopes up.

She stops in her tracks, swiveling back in your direction. Her eyebrows pinch together, creasing in the middle. “No.” She waits for the punchline, and when there isn’t one, she envelops you in a hug. “Oh, honey.”

You feel another gentle hand on your back as Robin’s palm rubs comforting circles between your shoulder blades. You can’t pinpoint the moment she became one of your close friends, too; it happened naturally as the relationship between her and Jess became more serious and they spent more time together. Yet it feels as though she’s always been an integral part of your life, and you couldn’t be more thankful, especially in moments like this one.

“I don’t…I haven’t taken a test yet,” you admit bashfully, blinking away rogue tears, “but I’m super late. Like, almost two weeks late.”

Robin scrunches her face, unsure of her response but plunging ahead anyway. “Does Eddie…”

You shake your head. “No, and I’m not telling him either way.” The vitriol in your voice is biting, and both of your friends are taken aback by your anger. “He said that taking care of Harris was too much for me to handle; you think he wants to raise a whole other kid with me?”

“Okay, okay,” Jess softly interrupts your tirade, not needing to hear your break-up story for the fourth time. “First things first: you gotta take a test. Do you have one here?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Then Robs and I will go with you to the pharmacy.”

“I don’t wanna go,” you whine, sounding more like Harris than ever.

Jess sighs. “You’re leaving this apartment whether you like it or not.” She motions towards her girlfriend. “She’s stronger than she looks, so we will use force if we have to.”

“Fine.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Can I at least shower first?”

“Please,” Jess mutters, grateful that she didn’t have to make the suggestion herself.

The shower water is scalding hot, but you don’t have the energy to fiddle with the knob until it’s a decent temperature. Instead, you stand underneath the stream and idly sway back-and-forth. You grab the Dial bar from the soap tray, lathering your body and taking good care to scrub under your arms. The suds slide down and swirl around the drain before disappearing entirely. You can only wish they took your problems with them.

You dry off as quickly as you can, throwing on the first pair of sweatpants you can find and a faded concert t-shirt from when you saw Joan Jett perform in ‘89. Dragging your tired body back out to where your friends are waiting, you grab a jacket out of the closet, stomach turning as soon as you put your arms through the sleeves. You haven’t worn this since last weekend, and the smell of Eddie’s cologne still faintly lingers. It’s like he’s there wrapping himself around you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Except he’s not here, his scent only serving as a painful reminder of what you used to have.

If he was here right now, what would he be doing? Cursing the broken condom that led to this chaos? Berating himself for getting another woman pregnant? And not just any woman; this would be the second woman he’d knocked up who’d failed to be a decent mother. This time; however, he’d know about your shortcomings before the baby could even arrive, before it could develop fingers and toes and have its own little heartbeat…

With a heavy sigh, you drag your feet out the door and into Jess’s car. Nausea creeps up on you the closer you get to your destination, and for the first time in your life, you pray it’s only carsickness.

Murphy’s Law states that “anything that can go wrong, will go wrong,” and that’s exactly what happened to Eddie this week.

First, he’d all but gotten confirmation that you were overwhelmed at the prospect of being a family, of being his partner, and eventually being a parent to Harris. Your silence when he’d asked if it was “too much” was deafening. He’d thought about calling you, even picked up the phone and dialed the first few digits on more than one occasion, but ultimately hung up. There’s no sense in trying to force you into a life you have no interest in, no matter how badly it hurts him to be without you.

Then, this morning, Harris had woken up at 6:30 AM, howling in pain. Eddie had nearly fallen out of bed at the sudden burst of sound, rushing to his son’s side to figure out the issue.

“My ear!” Harris wailed, pressing a tiny palm to the side of his head. “It hurts so bad!”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie murmured. He tried to pull Harris’s hand from his ear to get a better look, but quickly stopped when the boy cried out in agony, rivaling a Wilhelm Scream.

He called the pediatrician and got the earliest appointment available, arriving at the office before they’d even opened. The receptionist had given him a strange look as he barreled through the doors, Harris hoisted in his arms.

Forty-five arduous minutes later, the doctor took one look inside Harris’s ear canal and diagnosed him with an ear infection, scribbled out a barely-legible prescription for antibiotics, and sent the Munsons on their way.

Now, Eddie slams the sedan door shut as he walks into the pharmacy for the second time today, mumbling about his shit luck. He’d brought Harris to Wayne’s trailer after dropping off the prescription once they informed him that it would be a two-hour wait. There was no sense in forcing the poor kid to sit around the drugstore when he desperately needed a nap, Eddie reasoned, ignoring his own exhaustion. He makes up his mind right then and there that, in addition to whatever bubblegum-flavored concoction he’s picking up for Harris, he’s getting a pack of Camels. The stress is just too damn much for Nicorette to handle.

He makes a beeline for the pharmacist, nodding along as she explains that the medicine should be taken twice daily with food.

“Do you have any questions?” she asks patiently, a kind smile on her lips.

“N-No,” Eddie stammers, the paper bag crinkling in his grasp. “Thanks,” he throws out haphazardly, already hyper-focused on securing the cigarettes. He can practically taste the tobacco on his tongue, smoke filling his lungs. He’ll quit again tomorrow, once all of this is–

“Is this it? EPT?” A familiar voice briefly grabs Eddie’s attention, but he quickly brushes it off. It’s a small town; everyone’s bound to recognize each other after a while.

It’s the response that truly draws him in, a timid, “y-yeah, I think so.”

Eddie swivels around, cigarettes long forgotten, peering down each aisle until he finds you. You’re standing with Robin Buckley—the voice he’d recognized earlier—and Jeff’s sister-in-law, Jess.

“Hi,” he blurts out, shoving his free hand in his pants pocket. His heart breaks at the defeated look in your eyes, swollen from days of crying. He wants to pull you in for a hug and feel your arms wrap around him, relishing in your safety.

It only takes a half-second for his gaze to drop to the pink box clenched in your death grip, a pathetic attempt to hide it from him. “Wh-What’s that?” He’s suddenly all-too aware that you’re all standing in the Family Planning section, and unless science has made some extraordinary progress lately, it’s unlikely that Jess and Robin need anything here. “Are you—”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” You regain as much composure as you can. “But whatever I am, I can handle it by myself.” You’re unsure of the truth behind that statement, but you refuse to let him see you waver.

Eddie takes another step forward, removing his hand from his pocket and taking the test from you. You’re hesitant to relinquish it, but you ultimately concede.

“Let me pay for this, at least,” he says softly, not waiting for your reply before tucking it under his arm and heading to the cashier.

“Eddie—”

“You’ll take it at my place,” he continues as though you hadn’t just spoken his name, “and if you’re…if it’s…we’ll, uh, we’ll figure out where to go from there.”

You shake your head. “I don’t need your help,” you protest, firmly but not unkindly. “Seriously, I’ve got this.” Be done with me. Just let me go, Eddie. Find someone who deserves your—and Harris’s—time.

Eddie places the test on the counter, digging into his wallet for the dingy MasterCard he keeps tucked away for emergencies. You cringe at the cost; if you’d known Eddie would insist on footing the bill, you would have chosen a cheaper option.

“I can take this at home. Robin and Jess will be with me,” you push on as the four of you leave the store. You turn to them for back-up, frowning when Robin gives you a tight smile and Jess shrugs.

“I…think you should take it at Eddie’s,” she offers, trying to ignore the death glare you’re sending her way.

“If you need us, just call, and we’ll pick you up,” Robin hurriedly adds, quickly squeezing your upper arm before the two of them leave you and Eddie alone.

Without thinking, Eddie’s hand slips into yours. Maybe it’s because you’re more scared than you’ve ever been in your life, maybe it’s because his gentle demeanor has breathed new life into your love for him, but you let him keep it there.

The hum of the sedan’s engine is the only sound until Eddie speaks again.

“How long have you known? Or, thought, I guess,” he asks, drumming his ringed fingers on the steering wheel.

You don’t want to answer truthfully, but you’re too tired to lie. “Since last week.”

“Last week?” He slams on the break, instinctively putting an arm in front of you to protect you from injury. No matter that your seatbelt had been clicked in place since you’d sat down. “Shit, sorry.” He clears his throat. “Like, before the trip? Or…”

“On the bus ride home,” you clarify, shame seeping through every pore. It had seemed so natural to keep this information to yourself, but now you just feel stupid for not letting him in earlier. The baby–if there even is a baby–is his, too.

Eddie breathes out a long sigh, followed by silence until he poses yet another question. “Does anyone else know?”

“Yeah, I rented out a billboard in Times Square,” you quip before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, that was bitchy.” Maybe you’re just trying to fool yourself, but you swear you see a faint smile on his lips. “Um, no. Just you, Jess, and Robin.”

He nods. “Harris’s at Wayne’s, so it’ll only be us.” Eight days ago, that statement would be associated with passion; punctuated with a grab of your ass, a kiss to your neck, fingers gliding over your breast. Your heart lurches with longing, but you shove it deep down. That’s what got us into this whole mess, you remind yourself.

Still, his grip on the gearshift as he throws the car in park has you internally shouting for him to grasp your knee in the same manner. You’re moving in slow motion, providing him with ample time to get out and open your door for you.

“Thanks,” you whisper, but when he extends his hand to help you up, you fight the urge to accept it. Whatever the results of this test are, it doesn’t erase the fact that he’d said that parenthood was too much for you to handle. And you refuse to selfishly burden their family with your inadequacy.

Eddie rakes his fingers through his hair, casually playing off the rejection, but you don’t miss the brief pained expression in the scrunch of his nose.

Neither of you utter a word as you walk up to his apartment, your footsteps echoing throughout the stairwell. His hands are trembling so violently that he drops the key in front of his door; it lands on the floor with a tiny ping.

“Y’okay?” It’s an absurd question, but you’re unsure what else you can possibly say.

“Um, no,” he admits with a terse laugh. “I went into Rite Aid to get medicine and came out with a possibly pregnant…” He almost says girlfriend, but stops himself just in time. “So, yeah, I’m far from okay.”

He finally manages to open the door, pushing it open so you can go in first. You stand in the living room, feet glued to the floor. Your legs are weak beneath you, threatening to give out at any moment.

“I can’t do this,” you mumble, words catching in your throat. Your vision goes blurry with tears. “I just…” you trail off, shaking your head incredulously. “We were so careful, and the condom went and broke that one time…”

Eddie’s palm cups your chin delicately, calloused skin grazing smooth. “Listen to me.” His voice is calm despite his body brimming with nerves, “what’s done is done, okay? You’re either having my baby, or you’re not.” My baby, my baby, my baby. As he says it, his gaze flits down to your stomach. “But we have to know.”

You nod, unable to fully accept the weight of his words. “Do you have, like, a paper cup or something for me to pee in?”

“Yeah.” He shuffles over to the small linen closet next to the bathroom and grabs a Dixie cup from a stack. “Did you want me to go in with you, or wait out here…I, um, don’t really know the protocol.”

You manage a tiny laugh at his candor, despite the unfavorable circumstances that brought you back to his home. “You can just wait out here,” you tell him. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Your heart skips a beat as you close the bathroom door, and lock it behind you. Eddie’s voice is muffled outside the door as he talks on the phone, ending the conversation with, “thanks, Old Man,” before you hear the soft click of the receiver being replaced on the hook.

You lay everything out on the countertop in front of you, scanning each object in disbelief. The words on the instruction sheet swim away, leaving only tidbits in their wake.

If two lines appear, this indicates a positive result. Call your doctor for further evaluation.

You read that line over and over. If two lines appear, you’re pregnant with your ex-boyfriend’s child. It’s going to take a lot more than an obstetrician to evaluate that chaos.

You pull down your pants, then your underwear, nestling the paper cup between your thighs. Eddie’s reminder replays in your head: what’s done is done.

It’s easier for him to say; it’s not his body, but the sentiment remains true. All you have to do now is find out exactly what you’ve done.

You gingerly drop the paper strip into the cup, watching as the control line begins to darken. The instructions advised you to wait twenty minutes for the results; according to the digital watch adorning your wrist, that will put you at 12:18 PM.

You don’t have to wait that long.

The familiar reddish tinge that stains the toilet paper is the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. It almost seems too good to be true, so you take a fresh square and wipe again. This time, it’s even more pronounced.

An involuntary laugh that bubbles up from your throat, scaring even yourself. You can hear Eddie outside the door, stumbling over his feet to stand.

“Wh-What’s going on? What happened?” His hands twist the knob with no success. “Can I come in?”

“Y-Yeah,” you manage, smiling so wide you can barely speak, “I just got my period.”

There’s a long pause, then, “like…now?”

“Right now. At this very second,” you confirm, sending you into a fresh fit of giggles. You grab a tampon from your bag with far too much enthusiasm, unlocking the door once you’ve washed your hands and put yourself back together.

“We can still wait for the result, if you want,” you tell him. A strand of hair falls in front of his eyes when he nods in agreement; without thinking, you brush it away. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” you mumble. You feel yourself shrink inwards, palpably embarrassed of the intimacy of your slip-up.

“Do it again.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “What?”

“Do it again,” he repeats, and when your fingertips make contact with his hair, gently tucking it behind his ear, his own hand slides into place against your cheek. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

You say nothing, letting your body language speak for you in the slight upward tilt of your head as your lips find his, noses almost colliding in haste. Your hand slips down to his bicep as you accept his touch, parting your lips to allow his tongue to enter while your own breathy moan exits.

The sound has him tugging you closer, grabbing the hem of your shirt and inadvertently pinching a bit of skin in his hurry. The sudden twinge of pain snaps you out of the moment, and you take a step back.

“We can’t…” You take a deep breath, gathering the thoughts that have been jumbled by his touch. “We’re not together anymore,” you finish dumbly, cracks splintering through your heart as you hear it aloud. Not together.

Eddie’s voice is hardly above a whisper. “I know.” But his thumb traces over the plush of your lips in memorization. “Can I ask you something before you go?”

You contemplate it, rolling it over your tongue and finally relenting when you remember you’re still waiting for the official test result. “Sure.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s hurt in his voice, and more than a hint of anger, though you certainly can’t blame him.

“I didn’t want to worry you in case it was nothing…which it was,” you hastily add, needing to hold on to the lightness of the false alarm.

“No, I’m not talking about that,” he rebuts, continuing when you cock your head in confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me that taking care of Harris was too much for you?” Realization floods his body, carefully curated thoughts giving way to a horrified stream of consciousness. “Or was I too much?”

Bewilderment raises your eyebrows. “I never said that taking care of Harris was too much for me. You did.”

“Me?” He scoffs, pushing his body back with a slight bend at the hips, hands shoved into his pants pockets, rings peeking out over their seams. “No, I didn’t. I asked you, and you never gave a straight answer. Any answer, really.”

You think back to that confrontation, trying to remember the inflection in his voice: ‘s too much for you, isn’t it? In your insecurity-laden state, you’d assumed that it was a declaration of your shortcomings; now, you’re able to see what he’d actually meant.

He was trying to reach out, his own self-doubts bleeding through, but you were so consumed with all of the ways you’d failed him and Harris that you couldn’t see it.

“I…” Your brain is scrambled, unable to catch a single thought. You inhale for three, lungs expanding under your ribcage. The exhale is slower; you need all the time you can to collect yourself. “I messed up so badly…the donut…the elevator…the market…”

Spots dance across your vision as your breathing becomes more rapid and shallow. All you can picture is Eddie’s fear when Harris ran off; your chest is heavy with the same sinking feeling that as when you’d turned around and he was missing.

Your legs wobble beneath you, no longer attached to your body, but a separate entity.

Eddie’s voice is an echo in a tunnel, loud but far away. “I got you,” you hear him say as he leads you to the couch. Your feet move robotically, left right left right until you’re sitting on the lumpy cushion, the same one you’d gotten well acquainted with on that fateful August night.

Donut—elevator—market. Donut—elevator—market. An internal chant that served as a reminder of your failures. “I’m right here, okay? ‘M not going anywhere.” The couch dips a bit as he sits next to you. He hesitates for a split second before his hand is making small, concentric circles on your upper back.

Safety’s warmth crawls in as your physical and psychological worlds slowly merge. You’re in Eddie’s apartment, on his couch, next to him.

“Eddie…” you croak out, but he silences you with a shake of his head.

“Let me talk for a second. Please.” He sighs, not out of impatience, but as a means of gathering his thoughts. “You…you’re everything I ever wanted for myself and for my son. And, I’m gonna be real honest with you here, that scares the shit outta me.” A peal of disbelieving laughter accompanies his confession. “I shouldn’t have had you take him to the playground by yourself or leave you alone with him at the market. Not,” he hurriedly adds, ‘because of you, but because, sometimes, he needs the supervision of two people.” His hand drops from your back and lands on your own fingers, splayed on the couch next to him. “I think I just got so excited that I finally wasn’t parenting solo, y’know? And I relied on you too much.”

You wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand. “You’re supposed to rely on me,” you counter. “That’s what partners do.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if I wasn’t acting like such a dick, you could’ve told me you felt overwhelmed. Partners tell each other those kinds of things, too.”

“You’re not a dick because you got upset that I lost Harris.” You roll your eyes, not wanting him to downplay his own emotions just to protect yours.

Eddie clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Maybe not,” he acquiesces, ‘but I was a dick when you bought him a donut in the morning, like it was the worst thing that kid’s ever eaten for breakfast.” You both smile at that, knowing full well that Eddie’s had to bribe his son with a Pop-Tart on more than one occasion. “And then you took him to the playground without me even having to ask, just so I could get some rest. And don’t even start in with me about the Great Elevator Meltdown of 1997, because we both know he just would’ve flipped out about something else.” He scoots a millimeter closer to you, wanting to bridge the gap between your bodies without barging past any boundaries. “He was tired and in a new place away from home. A tantrum was damn near inevitable.”

As much as you’d like to wallow in self-pity, you know that it’s true.

“Speaking of the playground,” he continues, “all I heard about for the rest of the weekend was how much fun he had with you.” He throws his voice up an octave to mimic Harris’s tone. “I had the BEST TIME with Ms. Sweetheart! She pushed me on the swing SO HIGH!”

The corners of your mouth tug upwards at the memory. “He said that?”

“Mhm,” Eddie nods, contemplating the next piece of information to divulge. “He, uh, also told me that you love me. Not a little, but a lot.” You watch as the tips of his ears turn scarlet, visible even underneath his layers of curls. “Not sure if that still stands.”

You let your knee gently knock into his, a sliver of an olive branch. “Do you want it to?”

“So fucking much.” It’s a plea, breathy and desperate. “I love you, too.”

You crack a small smile before teasing, “A little, or a lot?”

A ridiculous amount, he thinks. I wake up thinking about you, go to sleep thinking about you, and most of my day in-between is spent thinking about you, too. “A lot, baby. More than I ever thought I could.” His gaze doesn’t leave your lips, chocolate brown eyes drawing you in closer. “Before we…I just need to know. For Harris and for me.” He rubs his palms on his denim-clad thighs, hoping to push away his nerves. “Being in it for the long haul…is that what you want? Because if it’s not, I can’t…y’know…”

You know. You know he can’t muddle through a relationship that has a certain expiration date. You know he can’t bring you into his son’s life any more than he already has if you don’t plan to stick around.

“I’m in it for the long haul,” you tell him, relaxing as a smile overrides the anxiety previously etched into his features. “I’m just scared that I’ll fuck it all up. That I can’t be a good mom to Harris.” You realize too late what you just implied, but judging by Eddie’s unwavering expression, it’s unlikely that this is the first time he’s thought about you filling that position. “At the playground, um,” you fidget with your fingers, suddenly entranced by the ridges of your knuckles, “Harris said that he wants me to be his mommy, but you and Wayne told him not to ask me yet.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fist before flexing his fingers, rings gleaming in the lamplight. “And that freaked you out?” he supplies, noticeably shocked when you refute his assumption with a shake of your head.

“Not in the way you think,” you say, gnawing on your inner cheek. “He was just so excited, and I started thinking–”

“That was your first mistake,” he jokes, wincing overdramatically when you swat at his chest.

“I started thinking,” you continue, throwing him a playful glare, “that he’d eventually be let down by me, that you’d eventually be let down by me, and that both of you would regret ever meeting me.”

His face falls at your admission, eyes losing their sparkle as he recognizes your fear. He’s been there: anxious about not living up to Harris’s expectations; the inevitable fall from grace when he realizes his dad is flying by the seat of his pants when it comes to parenting. Yes, he knows the feeling all too well, and it shatters his heart that it weighs on you, too. And the fact that you hadn’t told him–hadn’t felt like you could tell him–forms a knot in his gut.

“Baby,” he murmurs. The warmth of his palms envelops your face as he rests them on your cheeks. “Oh, my sweet girl. Don’t you know that that will never happen?” He sighs at your downcast eyes. “I need to tell you a secret, but you have to promise you won’t get weird about it.”

That captures your attention. What does he mean by ‘weird’? Angry? Annoyed? Scared? “What?” you ask, extending the word with an abundance of caution.

“When you told me you might be pregnant…the thought of being responsible for another kid fuckin’ terrified me. But not,” he swallows, a huff of air sufficing for an incredulous laugh, “not the thought of having one with you.”

Your eyes widen, eyebrows practically reaching the edge of your hairline. His unspoken words reverberate in your head: I’m not scared of parenting with you. I’m not scared of whatever journey lies ahead, as long as you’re beside me. I’m not scared of loving you.

Without warning, you press your lips to his. Tangled, messy curls find their way into your fists as you draw nearer to each other in a blur of hands and mouths. Though he’d kissed you only moments earlier, Eddie treats this one like a novelty; a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

To your chagrin, he abruptly breaks the kiss. “Wait right here.” You scrunch your nose as he dashes into his room. You can hear him rummaging through drawers, swearing loudly before slamming it shut and jogging back to the sofa.

“This,” he announces, holding out a small paper bag, “is the reason I asked you to watch Harris at the market.”

You take it, curiosity sufficiently piqued by the air of mystery. Tipping it slightly, you feel a delicate chain snake into your palm. Dangling from the center is a tiny heart pendant.

“Wanted it to be a surprise,” Eddie explains, trying to gauge your expression. “I know it’s not, like, the fanciest jewelry. There’s no diamond or any—”

“I love it.” And you do. God, you do. You quickly bring it to your neck, fumbling with the clasp for a half-second before you feel his strong fingers atop your own.

“I got it,” he murmurs, and you shift slightly to give him a better vantage point.

He adjusts the heart so it’s centered just below your collarbone, lingering a beat longer than necessary before pulling away. “Perfect.” He clears his throat and offers an apologetic smile as he ruefully adds, “I have to get to Wayne’s and give Harris his medicine,” he explains, nodding towards the paper bag on his countertop.

“Eddie!”

“What?”

You laugh, fingers dancing across the prickled stubble along his angular jaw. “You should’ve told me that Harris was sick!” This whole time, you’d just assumed he’d been on a playdate, but now you have an explanation as to why Eddie was in the pharmacy and who the medication is for.

“It’s an ear infection,” Eddie says nonchalantly, standing up and stretching his back. “Besides, when I told Wayne that you were here—I didn’t tell him why, don’t worry,” he throws in for good measure, “he said, and I quote, ‘don’t come back here until you make things right with your girl.’”

Your girl. You’re still Eddie’s girl. “We probably should check on the test before we go.” It’s been soaking in the cup of urine for twenty-three minutes. Padding to the bathroom, you double, triple, and quadruple check the singular pink line. Not a second one in sight, and you breathe out a sigh of relief before cheerfully announcing. “Officially negative!”

Eddie’s still fixated on one word. “You, um, wanna come with me?”

“If that’s okay.” Feeling out boundaries, a toe timidly dipped into the water.

“‘Course it’s okay. Fuck, ‘m just so happy you’re mine again. Missed my girl so much.” He plants a wet kiss on your forehead. “Harris is gonna be so happy to see you.”

Happy might be too strong a word to describe Harris’s reaction when you walk through the door of Wayne’s trailer, squeaking hinges waking him from a restless sleep.

“Ms. Sweetheart?” His voice is thick with grogginess and disbelief. “What’re you doing here?” He clumsily wipes his eyes with his little fists, sweaty from fevered sleep.

You sit next to him on the couch, pushing his sweat-logged curls from his face. “Just came to check on you. I heard my favorite Munson wasn’t feeling well.”

Harris giggles, delighted to be so highly ranked. “Yeah, I got an ear ‘fection. But I just gotta take medicine for it and it’ll go away.”

“Got it right here.” Eddie holds up the bag. “Did you eat anything?”

Harris looks over at his grandfather, not yet awake enough to answer the question.

“Had some toast and jelly right before his nap. ‘Bout…half an hour ago?” Wayne confirms.

Eddie nods, taking the bottle of amoxicillin out of the paper bag and giving it a good shake. You watch as he unscrews the cap and meticulously pours the medicine just to the dosage line. “Here ya go, Har Bear,” he says, walking over to the sofa where his son is half-sitting, half laying. “This’ll make you feel better, okay?”

That’s not a strong enough sell for Harris, who promptly crosses his arms over his chest, wrinkles his nose, and shakes his head in protest. “Yuck.”

“C’mon, please?” Eddie’s face falls in desperation and exhaustion at his son’s refusal. “It’s bubblegum fl–”

“No!” The ferocity in Harris’s objection could rattle the entire trailer.

You take Eddie’s hand and squeeze it reassuringly. “Can he have a cookie?” you whisper in his ear, hopefully low enough that Harris can’t overhear.

“What?” There’s no way you’re going to reward his behavior with a treat, right?

“Just trust me.”

He can do that. “I think Wayne keeps some in the pantry.”

Sure enough, you find an open package of Oreos, the same off-brand kind that Eddie had brought over on Thanksgiving, right on the top shelf. You slide the plastic shell from the case and pull out a cookie, carefully breaking it in half over the sink to avoid spraying crumbs all over the floor.

“Hey, Har, can I tell you my secret trick?” Harris perks up a bit at this, though he doesn’t give an outright answer. “Okay, so you take the medicine, and then you pop the cookie in your mouth super fast so you barely taste it.”

He considers this, mulling it over silently before warily agreeing and holding out his hand. Eddie gives him the medicine-filled cap and holds his breath that your trick will work.

Harris takes the medicine in one grimacing gulp, and as soon as he swallows it down, you give him half of the cookie. “Go, go, go!” you chant excitedly, grinning as he shoves the treat in his mouth, assessing whether it successfully masked the chalky aftertaste.

“Well?” you ask earnestly, heart beating in your chest as you await the outcome.

Harris purses his lips in contemplation, fueling your anxiety. After what seems like decades, he returns your smile tenfold, cookie crumbs wedged between his teeth.

“I did it!” he chirps with a level of enthusiasm that has you and Eddie doubting he’s even sick. “I like that trick.”

You feel Eddie’s arm snake around your waist as he grabs your side in appreciation. “You can have the other half when you take the next dose,” you tell the little boy, lovingly ruffling his curls. “C’mon, let’s get you home so Grampa can get some rest before work.”

The laugh lines around Wayne’s eyes crease in gratitude as Eddie scoops his son into his arms and thanks his uncle for the childcare. You grab the medicine bottle with the hand not holding the Oreo half, echo Eddie’s statement, and close the door behind you.

Eddie buckles Harris in and starts the car, peering through his rearview mirror while the engine grumbles to life. “Y’good back there, Har?”

“Mhm.” There’s a solid ten seconds of silence before he speaks again. “Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you tell me a story? Like a made-up one from your head?”

“Sure.” You lean back into the seat, thinking of a plot that will last until you get dropped off at your place.

“Once upon a time,” you begin, donning your best narrator voice, “in a tiny little village, there lived three princes who were fighting to be the village’s next king. The villagers didn’t know how to choose between them; after all, they loved all three princes dearly—”

“Daddy’s turn!” Harris interrupts, pointing at Eddie, hands clapping together in gleeful anticipation for the game he’s created.

“Uh, okay,” Eddie stammers, clearly caught off-guard by the request. “So instead of doing a normal vote, the villagers decided to have them battle the evil, ugly troll that lived up on the hill.”

“Now, Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Each prince would try and defeat the troll, and whoever won would be king,” you continue the story, improvising as you go. “The princes packed up their shields and swords—”

“Daddy!”

“And rode their horses up the hill until they reached the troll’s house.” Eddie’s eyes sparkle with a mischievous glimmer as he adds, “but when they got there, the troll refused the typical duel. Instead, he insisted on battling the only way he knew how: a competition of throwing balls into laundry baskets.”

Harris cackles at this but doesn’t ask you to take over, so Eddie keeps talking. “The princes were like, ‘um, this isn’t what we prepared for,’ but the hideous, grotesque troll didn’t care.”

“Ms. Sweetheart!”

You have no idea where this story is headed, but Harris is having the time of his life, so you plunge along. “The troll bared his teeth and hissed to try and frighten the princes, but it didn’t work. They each picked up the ball and tossed it into the laundry baskets, easy-peasy lemon squeezy.” You pause there to see if Harris calls on Eddie, but he doesn’t make a peep. “The troll was so surprised at their skills that—”

This time, Eddie doesn’t wait for his son’s instruction and takes the story over. “—that he stumbled backwards off of the edge of the hill, plummeting into the piranha-infested waters below. The end,” he finishes proudly.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. “Eddie!” you hiss, clapping a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. “You’re gonna traumatize the poor kid!”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, not even bothering to mask his laughter. “He’s out like a light.”

Sure enough, you twist around in your seat to see Harris sound asleep, head tilted against the headrest and mouth agape. A speck of drool collects in the corner of his lips, but he remains undisturbed.

“Medicine must’ve kicked in,” you agree, shifting back to look out your window. The trees flourish with leaves in various shades of green, a colorful promise replacing winter’s barrenness. Hawkins may not be the picturesque postcard town, but there is still some beauty in it.

“Yeah, about that.” Eddie’s brown eyes dance as he steals a glimpse of you before returning his attention to the road. “Do me a favor, ‘kay? Never worry about your parenting skills again.”

Your brows furrow in confusion for a brief moment. “Oh, you mean the trick?”

Eddie nods, tongue unconsciously swiping over his suddenly dry lips.

“That’s just something Grandma did to get me to take medicine as a kid,” you shrug. “She usually gave us Nilla Wafers, but it looks like Oreos make a worthy substitute.”

He doesn’t respond to that directly, simply rests a hand on your lower thigh just above your knee, the hangnail on his thumb scratches against your cotton sweatpants as he tenderly rubs the spot. “It’s okay if you’re not ready to officially take on the ‘mom’ role in his life,” he starts, even and reassuring, “but whenever you are? God, you’re gonna be the fuckin’ best.” He pauses for a beat before adding, “Y’already are.”

With Harris still snoozing in his booster seat, you press a kiss to Eddie’s jawline, just below his earlobe. Your nose smushes into his cheek, tickled by the stubble of a few days of missed shaving. It will take more than a compliment to quell your anxiety, but you refuse to ignore the way it ignites a small fire within you. Self-assurance is a flame, soft and flickering, burning from the inside out. Insecurity is a rigid block of ice, one that has been poking at you for years, but it begins melting against the blooming bundle of warmth.

Wednesday’s post-tutoring pizza party had an extra guest this week. Wayne helps himself to a pepperoni slice, humming some Bob Dylan to himself as he brings his plate to the table. Harris eagerly climbs into his lap, heaving a dramatic sigh as he plops down and steals his grandfather’s pizza slice. His ear infection has cleared up, thanks to the amoxicillin and your cooke trick.

“Hey!” Wayne barks out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “What’re you doing?”

Ever unfazed, Harris works on a mouthful of mozzarella cheese. “Eating,” he replies nonchalantly, a dot of sauce staining his nose. He barely swallows his giant bite before starting on another.

You giggle, handing Wayne a new slice before sliding into the chair next to Eddie’s. “I’m really glad you could have dinner with us tonight,” you tell the older man before tucking into your meal. Wayne had decided to cut back to part-time at the plant, citing older age and the desire to spend more time with his grandson, leaving his Wednesday evenings wide open.

Eddie’s the only one who hasn’t started eating yet, too busy soaking in the sight in front of him. He’s sitting around a table with his son, his father figure, and his girlfriend. The three people he loves more than anything in the world. He watches as Wayne presses a kiss to Harris’s messy curls, the little boy giggling into his piece of pizza. He watches as you lean over to wipe the sauce off of Harris’s nose with a napkin, shrieking happily when he sticks out his tongue and licks the side of your hand. “Gotcha, Ms. Sweetheart!” the little boy cackles, but while he’s distracted in his victory, you manage to clean his face.

This is happiness in its purest, most unfettered form. Maybe it won’t always be this easy, but he realizes now that he’s willing to fight like hell to get through the hard times if it means having more of these moments.

“Eds?” your soft, inquiring voice tugs him from his thoughts. “You feeling okay?” Your fingertips find his under the table, concerned by his preoccupation.

“‘M good,” he reassures you, holding your hand and using the other to fold his slice. Once again, the room is filled with silly banter and kind conversation.

Yeah, he’s good.

You expect the three Munsons to leave altogether, so when Wayne tells Eddie that he can take care of Harris for the evening, you’re caught off-guard.

This apparently deviates from Eddie’s plan, too, because he cocks his brow at his uncle. “Y’sure, Old Man?”

“Sure as sh—sugar,” Wayne says, catching himself at the last second. He scratches at the whiskers on his chin, an itchy reminder to pick up some new disposable razors at Melvald’s. “What good’s all this free time if I don’t spend it with my grandson?” He holds out his hand and Harris takes it eagerly.

“Bye, Daddy! Bye, Ms. Sweetheart!” he chirps, already pulling Wayne towards the door.

“Hold on,” Eddie pipes up, forehead creased in feigned agitation. “Let me give you a kiss goodbye.” His jaw drops when Harris shakes his head in defiance; this time, he’s genuinely shocked.

“I want a squish kiss. From you an’ Ms. Sweetheart.” Harris tells him, eyes darting between the two of you.

You turn to Eddie, feeling like you’re missing a crucial piece of this puzzle. “What’s a squish kiss?” you ask quietly, but Harris still manages to overhear.

“‘S when Daddy kisses one cheek, an’ you kiss the other!” he informs you, clapping his hands together giddily. “An’ it squishes my face, like thith.” The last word is obscured with a lips when he pushes his cheeks together to emphasize his point.

You walk over to him and crouching down to his level. “I can definitely do a squish kiss,” you say, wincing slightly when he excitedly squeals in your ear.

Eddie counts down from his other side. “Squish kiss incoming in three…two…one!” Leaning in simultaneously, you both feel the apples of Harris’s cheeks as he smiles, giggling again when you and Eddie pull back with an exaggerated, mwah!

“Now we gotta give Ms. Sweetheart a squish kiss!” the little boy announces. Heat creeps up your neck, and you silently place the ball in Eddie’s court. Before this, he’d always been cognizant to avoid displays of affection in front of his son. And while you’re not opposed to getting a squish kiss from them, you don’t want to put any unnecessary pressure on him.

“You heard the man.” Eddie’s response is near-immediate, wasting no time directing Harris to your left side and shuffling in closer to you. “Count us down, Har.”

“Three…two…one!” Harris smushes his whole face into yours, little nose pressing into your cheek before his lips can. Eddie’s contribution is much less aggressive, but there’s ample love in both kisses.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Harris skips back to his grandpa. Wayne just throws Eddie a wink as he grabs his car keys from the hook and closes the door behind him.

Eddie puts his hands up in surrender when you turn to him, the sounds of his uncle’s and son’s respective footsteps gradually diminishing as they walk down the hall.

“I swear, I didn’t ask Wayne to take care of Harris tonight,” he says with a laugh, looping his pointer finger across his chest to make an X over his heart. Lithe fingertips broach your waist, drawing you closer into him. “Not that I’m complaining, though…”

“Me either,” you murmur, lips finding their way to his collarbone, sucking so harshly that they threaten to leave a bruise. Your own fingers fumble to unbuckle his belt; a difficult feat considering your eyes are watching the vein that runs along his neck, beckoning you to mark it next. You crave the thrill of make-up sex, to allow hunger and desire to fuel your every move.

You grimace at the cool sensation of his rings against the bare skin of your stomach, a painful reminder of one frustrating barrier. “Fuck, my period,” you grumble, taking a small step back. He doesn’t let you go far; instead, he grabs your ass and pulls you towards him. “Eds,” you whine, trying to focus on your words rather than the way he’s beginning to strain against his pants zipper, “did you hear what I said?”

Eddie nods, tongue prodding at your mouth so he can kiss you deeply. “We can put down a towel,” he mumbles into you.

You sigh, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you, quelling the fierce ache settling between your legs, but it seems like Mother Nature is making up for the two weeks she’d lagged behind. Still, you don’t want to leave your boyfriend turned on without any reprieve; he’s practically quivering with anticipation to explore you already.

“C’mere,” you whisper in his ear, though it’s wholly unnecessary given his absurdly close proximity. You hook your forefinger into his waistband and lead him to your bedroom. “Pants off,” you order, and he obeys without hesitation, exposing plaid boxers that fail to constrain his hardening length.

You give him a little shove onto the bed, sensing his heart beat faster underneath your palms. Locking onto his widened eyes, you straddle his waist as he sets himself up against the pillows.

“Can I ask you a question?” You nibble on his earlobe, grinning when a shiver courses through his body.

“A-Anything,” Eddie manages, hissing when your clothed core drags over his tented shorts, the newfound pressure only weakening his resolve.

You hum your approval. “What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

His breath hitches, hands clamping down on your hips so possessively that his fingerprints might be etched into your skin. “You,” he whispers. “Always you.”

“What about me?” You wrap a curly lock of hair around your finger and give it a playful tug. “What do you picture me doing? Or what are you doing to me?”

“Fuck.” He starts to palm himself over the fabric but you swat his hand away.

“You tell me, and I’ll make you feel so good.” Your fingers tug at the elastic band until his cock springs free. He’s mouthwateringly hard, but you don’t allow yourself to taste him. Instead, you wrap your hand around the base, lean over, and spit directly onto the tip. “‘M ready when you are, baby.”

He needs a moment to collect himself, to allow his mind to create coherent thoughts. It takes too long, apparently, because he hears you softly snicker.

“Cat got your tongue?”

And, fuck, all of the blood in his body rushes south at that. He’s reminded of the dream he’d had all those months ago; the one that catapulted his feelings from schoolboy crush to full-blown lovesickness. Dream You had said the same thing.

“At work,” he croaks, twisting his fists into your bedsheets, desperate for your hand to glide up and down his shaft, “you surprise me a-and suck me off behind the counter, and a c-customer walks in.”

“And then I stop, right?” you tease, thumb swiping at the pre-cum pooling at his slit. “I let you attend to the customer because I’m a good girl?”

“N-No.” Eddie furiously shakes his head. “You k-keep going; such a bad f-fuckin’ girl. Keep your pretty little lips wrapped a-around me.”

You finally relent, giving him what he wants, and he bucks into your hand with a groan. His fantasies flow freely now with each stroke. “Once he leaves, I grab you, spin you around, and–f-fuck–flip your little skirt up.”

“Am I wearing anything under this little skirt?” you coo, tightening your grip on his cock.

He shakes his head, curls already beginning to stick to his temples with light perspiration. “Not a thing. J-Just on display f’me.” He sucks in a harsh breath as he moves you so you’re sitting next to him, knees grazing one another. He quickly shifts to unbutton your jeans, meticulously working the button like he’s opening the gift of his dreams. “And only me.”

“Eddie, I–”

“Gotta touch you,” he mumbles. The way your panties cling to your cunt makes it easy for him to find your clit through the fabric. “Gonna lose my fuckin’ mind if I don’t touch you.”

And, God, you might lose your mind if he does. His nimble fingers rub your sweet spot, a delicious friction created by your underwear. Desire oozes from his pores, only heightening when you whimper at his touch.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” Eddie’s voice is low in his chest, “‘m gonna make you feel good, too.” He pushes your panties to the side; the cool air hitting your pussy makes you shiver.

“Wish you were inside me right now,” you moan, almost drooling just thinking about being stretched open as he pushes into you. “You always fill me up perfectly.”

His cock twitches at your words, and you take the initiative to quicken your pace. “Is that what you think about?” he asks, groaning in pleasure when you lean in to spit on his dick again, saliva messily snaking down his shaft and nestling in the thatch of curls on his pelvis. “Y’think about me filling you up?”

“Mhm.”

“M-Me too, Princess. Want to fuck you full of my cum.” Eddie leans back onto the headboard. “You’d look s’good filled with my cum.”

Your widened eyes and the way your stroking motions end abruptly inform him that that was not the response you’d been expecting.

“Shit, I—”

You recover from the shock remarkably fast. “Yeah? You’d like that?” You resume your pace, fist sliding up and down his length, paying special attention to the overstimulated head. Your breath tickles his ear as you whisper, “tell me about it.”

He’s suddenly shy, softening slightly in your hand. “You sure?” His gaze shifts to your lower stomach; only a few short days ago, there was the possibility of you carrying his child there. “‘S not weird?”

You shake your head, trailing kisses down the side of his throat. “Tell me about it,” you repeat with a bit more charge, inciting him to let go. “I want to know all of your fantasies, Eddie.”

His name is so pretty coming from your lips, accompanied by a gentle smile. “Never thought about it until you,” he admits, the weight of anxiety lifted at your insistence, and you feel his length begin stiffening once more. “Keeping you bent over, coming inside your perfect little pussy, and fucking it all back into you so it…” he trails off, still too sheepish to compete the sentence.

But you have no problem with finishing it. “So it sticks?” you ask innocently, as though you have no idea what the mere utterance of that phrase will do to him. He nods, unable to speak. “Do you think about everyone knowing what you do to me? Hmm?”

There’s so much that he wants to say, but he swears there’s no blood flowing anywhere but his cock. “You’d look fuckin’ gorgeous havin’ my baby,” he manages, mind filled with images of you in maternity dresses, bump pressed against his stomach as you kiss him deeply.

There’s further implications; namely, that he wants you and only you to bear his children, which you quickly make a mental note to unpack at a less sensual time. For now, you focus on taking his words at face value. “Bet you’d show me off everywhere we went. Wouldn’t keep your hands off of me.”

“Can barely keep them off of you now,” he says, finger circling your aching clit to prove his point, “but seeing you pregnant with our kid…” He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years, enveloping your busy hand with his free one, wrapping it around his erection and moving it faster. “Jus’ like that, fuck, sweet girl. Tell me what gets you goin’ now, yeah?” When you bite your lip apprehensively, he sighs. “Don’t be shy; I know you’ve been holding back on me.”

“Okay, okay,” you acquiesce with a knowing smile, “I think about you taking control. Just…using me however you want.”

Your toes curl as he rubs faster, clearly just as turned on as you are. “Y’need me to boss you around? Treat you like my little toy?”

“Mmm,” you agree, settling into the mattress. “Want you to choke me, too.”

His eyebrows raise at this, and his lips soon curl into a mischievous smirk. “Come ride my thigh an’ tell me more.” He pats his leg, his gaze never leaving your body as you reposition yourself to straddle it. You keep your hand on his member, spitting on it once again while moving your hips back and forth. “Take what you need, baby.”

“Need you,” you moan, the cotton fabric of your panties dragging along him. “Need you to decide if I come…” It’s a delectable thought: Eddie pounding you into the mattress, reminding you that good girls take what they’re given, and nothing more. Quieting all of the noise in your head. Day after day, you’re supposed to make choices for others; some major, some minor. All you want is for someone to tell you what to do.

Eddie’s rings are cold on your neck, giving it a hesitant squeeze. “That good?” His eyes are kind but fiery, willing you to beg for it.

“More; more, please.” And give you more he does, only stopping when you cough. “‘S good now.” Words barely audible between his tight grip and your own descent into submission.

But Eddie hears you loud and clear, voice firm when he orders: “Come with me. Don’t wanna come without you.” He’s pulsing in your grasp. “An’ if you don’t come now, don’t even think about trying to get yourself off later.”

Relief floods you as the coil snaps, his dominance scratching an itch too often left untouched. You come with a cry of his name, feeling his own hot release coating your hand. You’re both giggling and gasping for breaths as you float down from your respective highs, lips crashing together in sloppy, needing kisses.

“I love you so much,” Eddie mumbles into you, blindly reaching for the Kleenex box atop your nightstand. “I’ve never trusted anyone like this before.” He wipes your hand clean before brushing his thumb across your lower lip.

“Me either.” You kiss him again, tongues mingling before you confess, “for the record, the thought of having a baby is a little less scary when it’s yours. Someday,” you add for good measure.

Eddie smiles, cocking his head and looking up at you like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. “I can live with ‘someday.’”

The school week draws to a close on Friday. Coming back from a break is never easy; the kids act like they’ve never been to school before. Just nine days out of the classroom and you’re fairly certain they’ve lost the ability to stay seated for more than ten seconds at a time.

Will is cleaning the tables with Clorox wipes, washing away crayon residue and softly whistling to himself. You’re filing away some paperwork, scrawling For Monday on a Post-It note and sticking it on top of a stack of handwriting practice worksheets.

There’s a light tap on your classroom door followed by an enthused voice.

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

You look up to see Harris and Eddie standing in the doorway. Harris excitedly waves you over, holding a piece of construction paper tight to his chest.

Eddie clears his throat, hands tucked into his back pocket. “Harris has something for you,” he says softly. His eyes light up when he notices the heart necklace that drapes over your collarbone. “Go ‘head, Har Bear,” he encourages his son with a tiny nudge.

“Um, well,” Harris starts, uncharacteristically nervous, “I know you’re still just my almost-mommy, but Ms. Marion had us make cards for Mother’s Day. An’ we learned that mommies love their babies, an’ take care of them when they’re sick, an’ cheer them up when they’re sad, an’ read to them, an’ play with them–”

“Har,” Eddie prods gently, not wanting him to lose himself in a tangent.

“Oh, yeah. An’ I don’t have a mommy-mommy yet, but you do all those things for me, so I wanted to give you this.” He hands you the paper. Two handprints, one pink and one purple, serve as flowers in a pot.

One of the teachers–Marion or Paula–has neatly written at the top, Thanks for helping me grow! and Mother’s Day 1997 on the bottom. In the pot, Harris has printed his name.

“I love it,” you manage, blinking away the tears that spring to your eyes. “It’s the best card I’ve ever gotten.”

Harris wraps his arms around you in a hug, and you embrace him with everything you have. When you look up at Eddie, he grins and mouths, thank you.

You just smile back, feeling as though you should be thanking him. Thank him for allowing you into his little family, for letting you make mistakes, for being there to help you fix them. Thank him for that fire inside you, burning a bit brighter each day, reminding you that this is where you belong.

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#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui #smut

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pretty-little-mind33 · 9 months

Text

Lavender Haze

bsfd!James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Having a thing for your best friend's dad was your dirty little secret. Up until it wasn't so secret anymore.

Genre: SMUT (NSFM)

Warnings: fictional age gap relationship (20f, 40m), drunk!reader, tipsy!James (no drunk sex though bc we love consent), fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), penetration, swearing, corruption kink, sexual themes, nipple play, praise

Your small trunk bumps into your knees as you stand in front of the familiar, decent sized, house in the center of Godric's Hollow. An early summer breeze messes up your hair and the humidity prickles at your skin, suddenly making you feel uncomfortable in your woolen jumper.

Inside the house, music plays and you can see silhouettes dancing around. The smell of Ginny Weasley's famous plum muffins swirl around you from outside the door and your stomach reminds you just how little you'd eaten in the train. Quickly, you lift your trunk with one hand and use your other hand to knock.

You hear muffled sounds from inside and then you see Harry Potter's rosy cheeks perk up in a wide smile as he holds the front door open, "Y/n!" He says happily. Harry's dark hair is a mess as a lopsided birthday hat that says Birthday Boy pushes some of his hair away from his face. Harry looks slightly ridiculous, but he's definitely too drunk to care, "Come in, come in." He insists.

Inside, the music is louder and the house is incredibly crowded with a bunch of drunk adults. When Harry invited you to his twenty-first birthday, you had expected something special — especially since, from Harry's stories, Mr. Potter and his friends had a tendency to throw extravagant parties among themselves — but you never imagined a full on muggle-inspired rager.

You can smell beer mixed with some wizard-alcohol Ron had once smuggled into your Gryffindor dorms in your sixth year and you sniffle. "You look nice," Harry compliments and moves your trunk into a corner.

You smile faintly, subconsciously running your palms over your jumper. You look down at your plain white, worn out, sneakers you've had since your Hogwarts years and the boring little jean skirt you'd thrown on because you haven't done laundry in a week. You feel underdressed but mumble a thank you anyway.

Harry doesn't seem to think you're underdressed because he ushers you inside his living room. You pass by countless classmates you haven't seen in a few years and almost all of them are drunk. Some holler your name and grin, while others don't look like they remember you.

When you see Ron and Hermione dancing in the center of the room, you and Harry quickly join them. As you dance, you don't exactly keep track of time as drinks seem to find their way into your hand. You just dance and drink until your mind is fuzzy and you have the sudden urge to use the bathroom.

Honestly, you didn't think you were that drunk. Or at least not until you couldn't seem to find the bathroom in a house you'd been a guest in more times than you could count.

You stumble, hand coming to balance yourself as your foot hooks into the other. You hear someone call your name, a voice you don't initially recognize, and suddenly you feel someone slide your arm around their shoulder, their other arm holding you up from around your waist.

"Hey there, watch your step." The person says softly and you look at them. You think it's Harry at first. It's the same hair and almost the same smile, but the more you focus you can tell it isn't Harry at all.

This man is older — not that you could really tell if you didn't recognize him — and your breath hitches as you quickly pull away,

"Mr Potter!" You exclaim a little loudly, "Oh, I'm sorry. I- I was looking for the loo."

You watch a smirk curl his lips as he stands a little straighter. His dark hair looks a little messy in the best way and you feel a blush creep up your cheeks. You start to question if it's the alcohol you drank, or if Mr Potter just looks extra handsome this evening.

"Well the bathroom's in the opposite direction, love." He chuckles, "And James is just fine. Mr. Potter makes me feel old."

You hide a laugh behind your palm, knowing it really wasn't that funny, and resist touching your cheeks to check if they're as warm as they suddenly feel.

You hear another happy holler and James looks back at the party. His hands run in his curls and he frowns, "Is it just me or have I let this party spiral a little out of control?" He asks you.

You sway on your feet and try to concentrate on James's question and not his lips or how blurry the hallway walls have turned around him. You faintly see James pinch his nose and mutter to himself, "Bloody idiot," as his hand gently skims your arm and you inhale, surprised by the warmth.

You look at him and lose your balance again, this time stumbling into his chest. His hand rests on your waist to steady you. Suddenly, you hear an obnoxious whistle from behind you and you and James look toward the sound.

You see a boy around your age send you a wink as you sway on your feet, and then he raises his glass at James in some kind of sleazy congratulations. You squint. There's no way this guy knows who James is, because if he did he certainly wouldn't have implied what he was clearly implying.

James doesn't respond in any way (if you don't count the tensing of his hands as it moves around your back) and instead he turns around and holds under your arm too. Gently, he helps you walk away from the chaos that is now the party, "Mr Potter, I really need to use the bathroom." You insist.

He looks at you sweetly, "I know, darling, but you can use mine."

You feel your heart jump and you don't answer. Your stomach feels as fuzzy as your head and you stare at James, admiring his features. Then, you look around. You're in a new hallway, one you've never been in. The walls are darker and the wooden floor squeaks under your sneakers.

Suddenly, you hear a door open and a light turns on. You blink and see a small room which consists of one queen bed, one desk, and one armoire. Old and new books are scattered around the room and the navy curtains are drawn shut. In the corner is a smaller door and you pray it's the bathroom.

"In there," James whispers as his hands disappear from your body.

Instantly, you rush inside and as quickly as you went in, you're out again. James, who was finding a shirt from inside his drawer, turns around. "Already?" He asks, slightly amused. You blush and nod hesitantly.

You hear him laugh and the sound sends electric shocks into your heart. What is happening to you?

James makes his way to you and hands you a shirt. Your fingers skim his as you take it in your hand and you look at him, confused.

"I want you to sleep here tonight. With me." Your chest tightens and your eyes round. James's own cheeks dust pink as he rubs his nape, "I just want to make sure you're okay, Y/n. You're drunk and someone could take advantage of you. I want to know you're safe."

James clenches his jaw as a little voice in his head screams at him, "Are you sure that someone won't be you?" He tenses. He'd never hurt you. You're too innocent, too kind, for him to ruin. James hates himself for even thinking of what you're hiding behind your jumper, or admiring how supple your thighs look under your skirt, and he hates himself even worse for imagining the taste of your lips.

"Oh," You say and your thumb runs over James's shirt, "Okay."

James stands straighter as he watches you disappear into his bathroom again to change and if he's honest, he looks longer than he should have.

Sighing, he runs a hand down his face — he needs to end this goddamn party somehow, and holy fuck how is he supposed to explain where you went to his son?

* * *

When you open your eyes, your mind is still a little fuzzy and your throat is extremely dry. You sit up, hands running over the sheets, and you squint as you try to adjust to the darkness and your new surroundings.

You can remember Harry, the party, drinking, and James. You see him. He's sleeping curled up on a chair near his bed.

Quickly, you pull the covers away from your body and stand. Your eyes widen when you realize you're only wearing your panties and one of James's white chemises. What the hell have you done? You wince. Hesitantly, you make your way to where James is and shake him,

As soon as you see him wake up, your word vomit begins, "Mr Potter, I'm so sorry if I was a nuisance yesterday evening. I barely remember what happened. I was so drunk," James sits up. He smiles and opens his mouth to answer but you continue, "I- We didn't do anything, did we, Mr Potter? Because if I said or did something last night, I honestly didn't mean it. It was only ever a silly crush," You whisper, cheeks burning as you subconsciously pull his shirt lower and over your exposed thighs.

You can see James's eyes darken as he listens to every word you say. The moonlight shines onto him, almost making his skin glisten, and you suddenly feel small. "A crush, huh?" James smirks, standing up slowly. Your eyes move from his and then to his chest. It just now hits you that he's shirtless.

You tilt your head to look at him, "Excuse me?"

"When did this crush start?" He asks and leans in. His knuckles brush your cheek and automatically you close your eyes. You wonder how he can feel so close and still so far.

"Last year." You say breathlessly

"And when did it end, love?" James mumbles. His lips are now almost pressed to your ear as his hands caress down your arms. You feel disoriented as you keep your eyes squeezed shut.

"I-It didn't," You admit, making a small breathy sound when James's lips finally connect with your cheek. You feel him smirk and then, slowly, his mouth proceeds down your neck as he gently sprinkles kisses onto your skin. You chew on your lip to suppress a moan as his hands find your hips and pulls you in until you're pressed up against him.

"Is this okay?" James whispers and you nod. "Shit, you don't know what you've done to me this past year, Y/n." He continues and your heart pounds, "Do you even know how many times I've thought of you? The fucking things I imagined?"

You feel him kiss up your jaw, "Filthy things, love. Things I shouldn't have been thinking about my son's best friend. But, Merlin, look at you. You're bloody stunning now." James's voice is low but every time you hear him, that tightness in your stomach worsens.

"Mr Potter," You whimper and run your hand over his cheek. Your eyes flutter and you look at him needily, "Kiss me."

James looks at you intensely for a moment until he smiles and graciously listens as his lips press against yours. Delicately in the beginning — almost as if you're too sacred to him and he wants to savor this moment. But then, when he feels your hands on his chest, he deepens the kiss and his tongue pushes past your lips. You shut your eyes again. hands finding his hair as you kiss him desperately.

You never imagined you'd admit this, but you'd dreamt of this moment countless times in the middle of the night. Still, even in your wildest fantasies, nothing could compare to the real thing.

James pulls away a moment, hands holding your cheeks as he admires your face. You look flustered as you breathe heavily, hair a mess and lips bruised. He smirks and looks at your thighs. You hadn't even realized you'd been rubbing them together to dull the ache, "Fuck," James mutters to himself as he kisses you again.

You whine into his lips, the pressure in your core becoming harder to ignore. You want him, you want him so badly it hurts.

Quickly, you slide your hand down over his pants and you can feel just how badly he wants you too. "Shit," James breathes, gripping your wrist and pulling your hand away. You look up at him, so innocent, and he curses himself, "Y/n, don't start something you can't finish." He warns.

"Who says I can't finish it?" You argue instantly and lean up to capture his lips again.

James chuckles but accepts your kiss anyway. He's going to hell for this, he thinks as your hands wander around his body. He shuts his eyes and sucks on your neck until you let out a small moan.

Fuck, he should want to protect you from the things he wants to do to you.

When he pulls away, his eyes have darkened even more and you can feel a confusing tonal shift. Maybe you couldn't finish this, you start to doubt as you look at him expectantly. You chew on your lip. Maybe this had been a huge mistake and maybe James thinks so too.

"If we continue, we can't go back to normal." James states and you tense.

"I know."

"Y/n, I can pretend this never happened. No strings, no awkwardness, I promise. You just have to say the words." He says, completely serious.

James is no longer touching you and you realize you miss him. You're in way over your head but somehow, you feel completely safe. You don't feel like you're making the wrong decision when you stay silent.

James's eyes sparkle but he runs a hand in his hair and looks away, "Bloody hell." He curses and you smile. He presses his hand to your cheek and then tilts your chin up, "This is insane."

"Just fuck me already," You laugh, "I know you want to."

Once the words leave your mouth, he kisses you hungrily. You lose your balance and fall onto the bed behind you, head hitting the bunched up blankets. You giggle when James hovers over you. "You're a little tease, you know that?" He chastises, his lips exploring your neck once more.

Honestly, you'd be insulted by his comment if you hadn't spent the last year trying to catch his attention whenever you had the chance.

"And you're a dirty perv for lusting after me." You respond slyly. James hesitates a moment but continues to kiss you anyway. When he leans on his arms and looks at you, you can see he looks a little embarrassed. "Don't worry, it turns me on." You smirk.

James shakes his head, "You're quite naughty, huh?" He asks and you nod. When you feel his hand travel down your stomach and lift his shirt to reveal your underwear you feel like you could almost orgasm right there. Instead, you bite your cheek and resist rubbing your thighs.

When James touches you over your panties, you let out a small gasp. As he slides his hand inside them, he leans on his side and uses his other hand to cover your mouth gently, "Don't wake everyone up with your noises, love." He looks at you and smiles as his finger runs up your pussy teasingly, "Just let me make you feel good."

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut. No one has ever made you feel this good already. Sure, you'd had boyfriends over the course of your seven years at school but you realized none of them could compare to him.

"Has anyone ever touched you like I am?" James sounds cocky as he almost reads your mind. When he speaks, his middle finger suddenly curls into you and you arch a little as your eyes widen from the unusual, foreign, feeling.

"I- no. Not as good as you, Mr Potter." You admit, squirming under his touch.

"Good." James leans into the crook of your neck and kisses your cheek. His hand moves just a little harder now – just enough to bring you close, but not make you come – and your breath has become harsher, "And didn't I ask you to call me James." He frowns playfully.

Your hand comes down to grip his wrist, "Please, James." You whine.

"Hmm?"

He wants you to beg. Your entire body feels like it's vibrating.

"Please." You whisper again and his pace quickens even more.

"You're such a good fucking girl." James compliment, kissing the skin near your ear and gently removes his fingers from inside of you. He slides your panties down your legs, leaving your pussy exposed. You barely have time to protest his lack of touch because he's climbing over you.

You shouldn't stare at his chest but you do anyway. Your lower stomach tightens.

James leans down and unbuttons his shirt, the one you have on, until he manages to pull it down your shoulders and away from you. You're completely naked now and, clearly unapologetic, James looks at your breasts and places his lips around your nipples. You gasp, hands wrapping around his — surprisingly muscular — back. You feel faint as the only thing you can focus on is James's mouth as he explores and kisses all over your breasts and collarbone.

"This is sick," James mumbles but continues to kiss you anyway.

You smile and suddenly flip around so you're sitting on his lap, "I want to ride you." You state, eyes twinkling.

James looks wind blown as his hair splays across the pillow and his hands grip your hips. He looks flustered as you feel his boner press against your thigh.

You fumble with his boxers, pulling them down and holding his dick in your hand. He hisses, eyes shutting from how sensitive he is. You smirk and swipe your thumb over his tip until he moans louder.

"Tease." He grits, hands digging into your hips, "In the drawer." He says.

You understand and reach over, opening the drawer and taking out one of James's condoms. Him and Lily have been divorced for years and jealousy stings your chest thinking who he uses them for now.

James takes the condom from your hand, carefully rips it with his teeth, and then puts it on expertly, “You do this often?” You ask, hiding how jealous you are behind a small smile.

"Sometimes," He answers nonchalantly, “But none have been as sweet as you are, love.”

You feel him press against your pussy and your eyes flutter shut. He feels much bigger than anyone you're been with in the past and you bite your lower lip, "Are you okay? We can stop whenever you want, Y/n." James promises, seeing your nervous expression.

You rest your palms on his chest and pull yourself up until you can slowly reach under and guide him into you. "I want this." You whisper.

James curses as his dick disappears into you. You let out a small squeal as he does and he covers your mouth with his hand as you adjust to him.

You nod when you can finally start to move and James settles back into the pillows. You start to bounce and every time you bury his cock back inside you, you whimper with pleasure.

James watches your breasts bounce with you and he feels hot. He's enjoying this way too much. You look beautiful, naked and jumping on his cock like a starved bunny. You're so fucking cock drunk already.

"How does it feel, sweetheart?" He asks cockily and helps guide your hips.

You can barely form words, "I-t I- I f-eel," You moan, hands clutching James's shoulders now as you continue to fuck him, "James!" You groan his name and he bucks his hips.

You feel so goddamn tight around him.

James enjoys you riding him — losing yourself in the pleasure you get from him — but as time passes, your bounces falter and you start to pant. James senses your thighs quiver and he isn't surprised when you tell him, "I'm close."

Your head suddenly hits the pillow as you're spun around and you shut your eyes. You arch your back as James presses himself into you, missionary style, and you wrap your arms around him again,

"Filthy fucking girl." He whispers near your ear as you spread your legs wider to allow him to fuck you easier and harder.

Your eyes roll back as James's hips snap into yours and your nails run down his back. He groans but continues to pound into you.

"You're doing so well," He encourages between ragged breaths, "Are you gonna come for me?"

You nod and he smirks.

"Then go ahead." James says, knowing he can't last much longer either. You explode and you feel warm all over as he continues to fuck you even after you've reached your high.

You tap his back, recovering, "I want to suck your cock. You can finish in my mouth." You whimper.

James moans just hearing the words and pulls out. He pulls off the condom and leans off the bed for a moment so he can throw it into the trash near his desk. You shift your bodies so you can put yourself between his legs and you immediately lick his tip.

You feel him twitch in your hand as you take him into your mouth. James looks at you, one of his hands gripping your hair as you choke on his dick. He's so goddamn close. All it takes is you glancing up at him with your beautiful eyes and running your tongue along his length for him to curse and come into your mouth.

You swallow and James loses his mind all over again. You look completely fucked out now as your eyes flutter and your chest heaves. His heart thumps in his chest,

His hand curls around your neck as he leans in to press a kiss against your forehead. You sit with your legs sprawled behind you, arms clenched between your knees, completely bare in front of him, and you shiver at his touch.

When he stands, you almost call out his name. You don't know what you're so afraid of, maybe you're scared he'll leave you.

"Here." He climbs back into the bed with his boxers on and he guides your arms into his shirt and starts to button it up, "You did so well. Made me feel so good, yeah?"

He takes your cheeks in his hands and you look at him. He feels slightly guilty for the distant look in your eyes, "Are you okay?"

You squirm a little, "I'm a little sore already. You-You're bigger than anyone else I've been with.” You admit.

James looks cocky and he traces circles on your thigh, "How can I make you feel better, darling?" He sees you look away bashfully and play with the buttons of his shirt, "Want me to kiss it better?" He teases.

You feel aroused again and bite your lip, nodding.

James sits on his heels and moves you so you're sitting against the headboard, your legs spread. His shirt rides up your thigh, exposing your pussy, and his dick twitches in his pants. Fuck, he's an evil evil man.

You watch him, breathing harshly, as you wait with anticipation. No one has ever eaten you out before. Your first boyfriend had expressed his disgust and you had never asked anyone again.

James takes your leg in his hands. He starts to kiss your calf muscle and then moves upwards to your inner thigh. You clutch the sheets as he kisses your skin gently.

"Relax, sweet girl." He whispers when you squirm. James is now laying in between your legs and he presses a kiss just above your pussy, his hands hooking under your thighs to push them open even wider.

You moan when he finally licks up your slit. It feels strange at first and your instinct is to move away from it. When he feels you jump, James looks up at you, "Do you want me to stop?" He asks gently.

You shake your head furiously. James smirks and presses another kiss to your inner thigh. This time, he licks and sucks on your skin a little bit before he finds your pussy again and attaches his mouth to your clit.

You gasp and your hands bury themselves in James's hair. You moan his name.

James continues to suck on your clit, occasionally gently thrusting the tip of his tongue into you and you see stars.

"How are you feeling?” James asks in between kisses to your clit. He's not asking to tease this time, but to genuinely make sure he's pleasing you.

"A-amazing — ah!" You cry when he sucks a little harder and you buck your hips into his mouth.

James makes a little sound when you instinctively close your thighs around his head. He uses one of his hands to pull one of your thighs open, and the other follows, "Gotta Keep 'em open, my love." He says and you nod, your eyes squeezing shut.

You feel like you're floating as James continues. It doesn't take long until you come for the second time, collapsing onto the bed with harsh breaths.

James kisses your thigh one last time and gently closes them. He licks his lips and scoops you into his arms as holds you to his bare chest, "You did so well. My good girl."He kisses your cheek and you smile.

"What do you need, love?" He asks once you wiggle from his arms and adjust your hair. You must look completely disheveled.

"Um? Water?" You whisper, unsure.

James is up on his feet instantly as he fetches you some water from the sink in his bathroom. When he returns you're sitting up on his bed and the morning light from the window shines onto your face. James hands you the glass.

"Thank you." You say softly and take a sip.

"How was it?" James finds himself asking and he curses himself in his head. James hasn't really asked anyone how sex was since Lily, but for some reason he burns for your approval. He sounds like a hopeless teenager.

"I loved every second." You reply honestly. "You're the first person who's ever given me head too."

"Really?" He sits next to you and places your glass on his bedside table when you hand it to him.

"Yeah. My ex found it gross."

"Well, he’s a bloody idiot." James says, completely serious, and you laugh. You look at him and James wishes he could hear your laughter all the time.

"James?"

He almost blushes at his name, "Hmm?"

"What does this mean?" You ask, pointing between you and him.

James wants to tell you he likes you. He wants to ask you out to dinner, somewhere fancy where he can spoil you exactly like you deserve, but he doesn't want to sound creepy.

Plus, there is Harry to think of. His son, who will be worried sick if you come out of his father's room looking like you do now.

"I don't know." James admits quietly.

You see his expression and your heart clenches. You want him, you want nothing more than for him to be yours. But you know he can't, not when Harry is your best friend. You don't want to hurt your best friend.

Still, you don't want to shut the door completely, "Can we find out as we go?" You ask timidly, implying that — at least — you want to have him intimately again.

James grins. He has never ever been happier to hear those words.

2K notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 10 months

Text

NO MORE GAMES

A/N: so this concept might be familiar for some of you bc i posted about it earlier before i started working on it but now its officially here! and this is my thank you gift for all of you for reaching 15k followers!!! it's insane, thank you so much and hope to bring you even more stories soon!!!

WORD COUNT: 7.9k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Your friend forces you to give Tinder a try. Surprisingly you fetch a date with the handsome and a little bit older Harry. But he stands you up and you lose hope in dating. However it's a real plot twist when you run into him at your dad's barbeque and he is introduced to you as the future CEO of your father's company.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

“This has got to be the lowest point of desperation.”

“Don’t be so dramatic!”

“I’m not, this is truly the end.”

Dani rolls her eyes and just keeps tapping away on your phone’s screen, setting up your Tinder profile.

You. On Tinder. The app you swore you’d never use. How did this happen?

Well, it happened because your boyfriend of two years decided to dump you in a McDonald’s parking lot, only to post about his engagement to another woman on Facebook three weeks later.

Disgusting pig, you’re convinced you were blind and deaf in those two years, that’s how you could put up with him for so long.

You’ve been wallowing in your self-pity for the past three months and Dani, your best friend had enough and said that you need to get on a dating app, hook up with some fine ass men and forget about Cruz.

“Alright, it’s all set, want to have a look?” Dani smirks, obviously pleased with herself as she hands you over the phone.

It’s a decent profile, she chose some good pictures of you, your profile was never your concern, it’s others on the app that makes you crawl out of your skin.

“Perfect,” you flash her a forced smile, she grabs the phone and then starts swiping vigorously. “Hey! Don’t swipe right on everyone!”

“Not everyone! Just the hot guys!”

“You’re not even reading their bio!”

“Because I don’t care, we’re looking for a hookup, not your husband here, duh!”

You sit, feeling helpless as you watch your best friend decide who is worthy of you in the virtual meat market. This is really not your scene and you’re more than skeptical anything good will turn out from it.

Dani keeps swiping for a while before you finally talk her out of it and you settle watching a movie instead, forgetting about the profile that is now available for every single man in your area.

To be honest, it completely slips your mind until you’re getting ready for bed and unlock your phone to set an alarm and see all the notifications from Tinder.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, falling into bed as you unwillingly, but tap on one of the notifications and the app opens.

It’s been only a few hours, but you got twenty-seven matches and five out of those even messaged you. You instantly skip the first three because one straight up asks for nudes, one just sends you a bunch of emojis and the third one sent the worst pick up line you’ve ever heard.

The fourth one is okay, but it’s kind of… well, it’s a simple “Hi, how are you?” and you’re not sure how to reply to that, so then only one’s left.

Harry.

The age next to his name reads 36, that’s not that big of an age gap, only eight years, you’ve seen worse. Besides, he looks younger, almost your age according to the pictures. He has a couple, but not too many. He’s smiling on his profile picture, the t-shirt displays his many tattoos on one of his arms, his hair is slightly curly and mostly a mess, but it’s the good kind.

He is definitely your type.

He opened with referring to something that’s written in your bio which feels nice, knowing that he actually read it instead of just swiping right based on your pictures. Your thumbs hover over the screen for a bit before you finally give in and type him an answer.

He replies right away. And so the conversation starts.

One message follows the other, you’re jumping from one topic to the next and at one point it feels like you’re talking to an old friend and not a guy you’ve never actually met. The next thing you realize that it’s three am and you’re still talking.

Y/N: We’ve been talking for hours and you still haven’t asked for my number, should I take it as a bad sign?

HARRY: Didn’t want to seem too pushy, but I wanted to ask for it the moment I saw your profile.

You smile like a little girl as you type your answer.

Y/N: That would have been too soon, you’re right. But now would be a good time.

HARRY: Hey, crazy idea! Can I maybe have your number?

You laugh. You genuinely laugh at the screen and that probably never happened before.

You give him your number.

You didn’t think it would go this far, this whole Tinder ordeal Dani forced you into. You were kind of set that it won’t work so why should you even try?

Now it’s a surprising outcome that you’re on your way to meet Harry at a bar, only three days after texting nonstop. And you’re kinda nervous about it.

You haven’t been on a first date in a long time and it’s giving you the jitters as you get ready. Your experience getting to know Harry in the past few days has been incredibly positive, you wonder if it will be the same when you physically meet.

You arrive at the bar a little early and take a seat at the table he reserved on his name. To ease your nerves you order a vodka soda that you drink quickly, the alcohol mixing in your veins pretty fast, but you’re still nervous to meet him in real life.

As you wait, a guy comes up to you who seems to be more interested in your cleavage than you while he tries to chat you up, but you quickly reject him, your gaze keeps returning to the entrance, expecting Harry to walk in at any moment.

Minutes pass by and then seven o’clock rolls around, the time when you were supposed to meet, but you see no sign of him, which makes your stomach twist and turn. You double check the time, the date and the place to make sure you’re where you need to be.

“You seem awfully lonely,” a voice speaks up behind you and for a split second you think that it’s Harry, you just missed when he walked in, but when you turn around you see a totally different man, holding two drinks in his hands, clearly offering one to you. You make no effort to accept it.

“I’m not,” is all you say, turning your eyes back ahead. He doesn’t get the hint.

“If you’re waiting for someone I’m happy to be your company until they arrive.” He rounds the table and stands in front of you, blocking your view of the entrance entirely. Exhaling irritatedly, you finally look up at him, your face making an obvious statement that you’re not open to the chit-chat.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“You definitely seem like you could use some cheering up, let me be the–”

“Oh my God, are you really this dumb? It’s a no, I don’t want to talk to you, now leave the table!”

“Jesus, what a bitch,” he mutters under his breath as he walks away. Normally, you’d definitely call him out, but right now, you’re just staring at the entrance, almost like a maniac as the minutes pass by and there’s still no sign of Harry.

You check your phone, praying there’s gonna be a text at least, saying that he is just late, that he will be here soon, but nothing. It’s dead silent.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, your feet jumping underneath the table. It’s already twelve past seven. This is not just being fashionably late now.

You wait some more, hoping for a miracle, but it never comes. So does Harry.

When it’s been over thirty minutes you chug down the rest of your cocktail you ordered to make you seem less like a loser and call it a night. On your way out of the bar you pull up your messages with Harry and send him one last text.

Y/N: Thanks for nothing.

And then you block his number, throwing the experience to the very back of your head while you delete Tinder off your phone.

The annual barbeque is here. Once a year your dad’s home turns into one big fair, he invites most of his employees, investors and partners, throwing a feast in his backyard. It means about five hundred people invade your previous home, where you still spend a lot of your time even though you have your own apartment now.

You always come as well, because one, your dad loves to show you off and introduce to everyone and two, you usually use this occasion to network a bit. You’ve just opened your own gallery and what’s a better place to promote your art than a backyard full of wealthy investors? Selling your art can seem like an impossible task sometimes, or to be more precise, most of the time. Until your work is not known you make no profit, you need that first purchase that will bring in the rest and get the business rolling. Unfortunately you have not had that one first customer.

Yet.

It’s a sunny Saturday, as if your dad ordered the weather especially for the occasion. There has never been a barbeque with rain or cold before, your dad seems to have control over this as well. There’s endless food and drinks, several activities for children, since it’s a family friendly event and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, mixing and mingling.

You’re nursing a mojito you mixed yourself, so it’s generous in the alcohol department. Wearing a white sundress you’re trying to have a word with everyone you know and everyone you want to know.

“Sweetheart!” You hear your father calling out and you spot him a few feet away, waving at you. “Come over here, I want to introduce someone to you!”

Excusing yourself from the conversation you slalom between the guests and reach your father under the oak tree that’s near the tiny pond in the middle of the backyard. Yes, your father has a pond in his backyard, as well as two pools, a jacuzzi and a whole ass greenhouse. He is just that extra.

“Hi daddy,” you smile, joining him as he places a hand to your back and gestures towards a man who is currently turned away.

“Y/N, let me introduce you to the man who will take my place in the future, my successor, if you’d like. This is Harry Styles. Harry, this is my only daughter, Y/N.”

Your body makes the realization faster than your mind. The man turns towards you, but by that moment you’ve already recognized the tattoos you’ve looked at in pictures more than you’d like to admit. Then you see his face and your stomach drops before your brain processes who you’re facing.

Harry stood you up on your first date two weeks ago and you thought you’d never see him, but fate decided to make a joke out of it, because now he is here, in the flesh, looking at you with a just as shocked expression as yours.

You both are quick to gain control back over your faces and Harry is the first one to break the silence.

“Hi, it’s, um… It’s nice to meet you,” he clears his throat as he holds a hand out for you. For a short moment you think of just turning around and walking away, but you don’t want to cause a scene and have your father question your behavior, so instead, you shake his hand, the touch of his skin sending tingles down your spine as you let go of it in a bit of a hurry.

“Yeah, it’s really nice to meet you,” you nod, but can’t hold back the spite in your voice. Luckily, your dad seems to be oblivious to the scene happening in front of him.

“Remember that awfully long procedure we had to find the perfect person to take over after me? Harry was the only one to survive it and I knew we found our guy.”

Your dad pats him on the shoulder proudly and Harry smiles back at him, but you notice how tense he appears to be, most likely because of your presence.

“Ah, he seems like a decent, reliable guy,” you add with a forced smile and you know he understands the meaning behind your words.

“He is!” you dad beams. “And Harry, this is my wonderful daughter, she graduated from CalArts, top of her class, she is an exceptional artist, you should see her work!”

He has seen your work. Well, virtually. Naturally, you talked about what you do and he asked you to send pictures and you did.

He loved them. Or at least that’s what he said. Now you question everything he wrote in his messages.

“I’m sure she is… fantastic.”

The torture continues for a few more minutes before others join the three of you and you have a chance to slip away, which you grab without hesitation.

It feels like all your blood is pumping in your head, you can’t tell if you’re shocked, angry or disappointed, most likely all of these together. Part of you wants to chug something strong to forget about it all, but then another part wants to read everything on him and tell him to fuck himself.

A tequila shot and some internal raging later you’re inside the house, it’s quiet, everyone is enjoying the weather outside, so you have a chance to settle your thoughts. With another mean cocktail in your hands you’re pacing back and forth in the spacious living room, your racing thoughts making it impossible to calm yourself.

“Can I at least try to explain myself?”

The voice coming from the sliding door that leads out to the backyard makes you jump and when you turn around you spot Harry standing there, looking awfully good, but you’re way too angry at him to acknowledge it.

“I don’t think I want to hear it.”

Out of frustration you can’t do anything else than drinking and avoiding to look at him, hoping he might disappear if you ignored him. Unfortunately, it’s not the case, he moves closer.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry about standing you up. It was unacceptable, I know. I had a… um, I had a family situation and I didn’t have a chance to let you know I wouldn’t make it.”

“What situation?” you ask right away, and when he hesitates you know it’s all made up. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I don’t need your apology, you didn’t think it was necessary to tell me you wouldn’t come then, now you’re only apologizing because you were forced to meet me.”

“Y/N, it’s not… it’s not what you think.”

“Oh, I think it’s very much what I think it is,” you let out a bitter laugh. “It’s fine, but I thought you were mature enough to tell me you’re not interested in me anymore. I’m a big girl, I can take the rejection.”

“But I was interested, I still–” He cuts himself off, not sure if it’s fine to say that he is still into you in the situation you found yourself in. “Y/N, I didn’t want to hurt you. This… It’s not how I planned it. I’m sorry.”

You want to stay mad. You want to stand your ground and unleash all your rage at him, but… you can’t. He might have been bullshitting you about why he stood you up, but he truly seems like he feels bad.

And he really looks way too good.

“Alright. Apology accepted.”

He looks visibly relieved, his shoulders ease and even a tiny smile appears on his lips.

“Thank you. Really. So… Do you want to have a drink now?” he chuckles, but the devilish smirk you flash at him scares him instantly.

“Oh, I said apology accepted. That doesn’t mean we’re fine and back at where we were.”

Before he could say anything or question what you said you walk away, leaving him in a blur.

You only see him from afar a few times until the end of the barbeque, you catch him staring quite a few times as well and his looks reflect hunger, so you assume your looks definitely live up to his expectations after all. You miss when he leaves at the end, but you know it won’t be the last time you see each other.

A plan is formed in your mind about how to teach him a lesson for standing you up. A little game, to be exact.

Two days after the barbeque you have to meet your dad in his office and you definitely don’t want to miss the opportunity to mess with Harry. You go out of your way to change before heading to the office, wearing a tight, extra short black dress that will surely catch his attention.

With a stack of documents under your arm you stroll into the building as if you owned it. Well, for a while you were set to inherit the business, but when your father realized you’re more into art, he ditched his plans and started looking for his successor. You remember how nervous you were before sitting down with him and telling him you wouldn’t take over the company like he wanted you to. To your surprise, he took it well and you realized he just wants you to be happy, doing whatever your heart desires.

As a side hustle, you still get involved in some part of the business, just to learn the basic ropes and gain skills you can use in other fields as well, so every once in a while you can be found in the office. Today is one of those days.

The girls behind the front desk smile at you warmly and let you pass by, heading straight up to your dad’s office on the top. Standing in the elevator you check your outfit, making sure it’s not too revealing, but will do the purpose you wore it for. It doesn’t look like you’re going clubbing, but the amount of leg you’re showing will definitely earn you Harry’s attention, just how you planned.

It’s like fate is playing on your side, when you’re approaching the office you spot Harry in there with your dad, a devilish smirk tugging on your lips as you finally reach the glass door, knocking on it gently. They both lift their head up, but the expressions they make are very different.

While your dad seems happy to see you, gesturing for you to come in, Harry on the other hand seems… shocked to say the least. Most likely not because he is seeing you, but because of how you look. You catch his gaze wandering down your legs right away, his chest rising with a deep breath as you walk inside.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt. I brought the documents you asked for.”

“You’re not interrupting anything, come in!” your dad waves around, rounding his desk to greet you with two kisses on your cheeks.

“Hi Harry, it’s so nice to see you again,” you smile at him charmingly, angling yourself so your legs are perfectly in his view.

“It’s uh, it’s nice to see you as well, Y/N.”

The blush on his cheeks is proof that your plan worked pretty well. While chatting with your dad, you keep an eye on Harry and see him practically devouring you with his eyes, his jaw clenches every time you move your weight to one leg and pop your hip out to the side. It’s safe to say he is a fan of your outfit.

“Alright, I better get going,” you sigh and start to pack your stuff when you drop your pen on purpose. The plan was to lean down and tease him even more, but he jumps to your rescue instantly, picking it up for you, but it gets his face to the same level as your thighs and he straightens up faster than the speed of light.

“Here,” he hands you the pen, obviously avoiding looking at you. This is probably the most fun you’ve had in a long time.

“Thank you,” you smile at him, making sure to brush your fingers against his hand as you take the pen from him. “Have a nice day.”

And with that, you stroll out of the office.

Y/N one, Harry zero.

You don’t give him much time to recover from your appearance at the office. A few days later, on Friday, you decide to take advantage of your dad’s pool, which is one of the reasons you spend so much time at his.

And of course because you love him.

Today however, you have a different reason to parade in his backyard in the tiniest bikini you own.

Your dad’s office has floor to ceiling windows watching over the glistening pool. Most of the time you try to avoid having a pool day when you know your dad is working from home, but Harry is here today, so that changes everything.

You saw him arrive a few hours ago from your room’s window and they are still working, so when you’re done with your own business calls you decide it’s time to go for a swim. The neon pink bikini you chose was worn last time in Miami on spring break when you were still in college, a wild weekend you’ll never forget, but you’ve changed since then and it’s not really your style, but it will serve the purpose the best. To help your success you ‘ve also covered your body in tanning oil, making you glisten in the sun.

Putting on your sunglasses you grab a towel and tanning oil and head outside.

It’s hot outside and you’re already planning to lie in the sun after a swim, the water glistening on your body. Putting on your best poker face you finally walk out and approach the pool. You know this place like the back of your hand, so you know exactly when you come into view from the office. Squaring your shoulders you keep your head high and walk up to one of the sunbeds, dropping your stuff down before striking a not too obvious pose as you put your hair up. Angling yourself just right, you catch a glimpse of what’s going inside and you need everything in you not to start grinning when you spot Harry not far from the window, staring at you like he is about to burst. Your dad is somewhere in the back on the phone, oblivious to the scene that’s happening so close to him.

The second act starts when you grab the tanning oil and start applying it, rubbing it into your skin, making a show out of it. Oh, how you wish you could see Harry’s face up close, but you have a good guess what’s happening in his mind and it’s very pleasing.

First, you lie down to tan some, normally you cover your head with a towel because of the heat and not care about how you look, but this time you try your best to look as if you just jumped out of a Sports Illustrated catalog.

Not long later it’s time to jump in the pool. You swim a few laps before emerging from the cold water and returning to your sunbed, all while imagining what could Harry be thinking right now.

You’re still chilling in the sun when you hear the sliding door open and spot your dad walking out. For a moment you freeze, afraid he might tell you off for using the pool when he is working with someone in his office, but he seems delighted.

“Hey, I have to head out for a quick meeting, I’ll pick up lunch on my way home, want me to grab you something?”

“That would be great, thank you,” you smile at him peeking over the rim of your sunglasses.

“Harry is here, so don’t be surprised if you run into him. He’ll probably stay in the office.”

“Alright.”

With that he turns around and disappears in the garage. You hear the engine start and then he drives away, leaving you and Harry as the only people in the house. Not to make it obvious, you turn to look inside the office, but you’re surprised to see that Harry is not there anymore. Has he left the house as well? Did your plan not work after all?

It’s starting to get too hot outside and you didn’t bring anything to drink so you decide to give up and go inside. Heading into the kitchen all you can think about is a glass of cold lemonade.

Rummaging through the fridge you grab the bowl of fruit salad you made yesterday and brought over and as you’re balancing everything in your hands and pushing the fridge’s door closed with your hips, it scares you when you see Harry standing behind you by the kitchen island.

“Jesus, are you a fucking ninja? I didn’t hear you.”

Walking closer you set everything down to the island and pretend like your pulse is not over the roof. Not just because of the scare, but because he looks incredibly good. FItted pants and simple white shirt, the top few buttons are undone, showing a glimpse of his chest, the sleeves are rolled up, allowing you to check out his tattoos as well. God, if you weren’t trying to teach him a lesson you would be all over him already.

It makes you feel better though that he is definitely checking you out as well. He is not trying to mask it too much, his eyes keep wandering down your body that’s still only covered at the most crucial parts by your tiny swimwear.

“Having a day off?” he leisurely asks, hiding his hands in his pockets as he leans against the island next to you.

“Nope, my work is pretty flexible. I’m mostly my own boss.”

You see him nod from the corner of your eyes as you dig into the fruit salad, trying to act casual and ignore the fact that you’re in a hot pink bikini while he is dressed for work.

“So how long are we going to play this?” he then asks out of the blue.

You know exactly what he is talking about, but you won’t give in that easily. With your hands on your hips you turn to face him with an innocent look on your face and you don’t miss how his eyes snap down to your chest, then to your lips before they move back to your eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A tiny little smile tugs on the corner of his lips as he looks away, out to the terrace where the pool’s glistening surface is probably reminding him of the show you gave him not long ago.

“Is this supposed to be punishment?”

“Did you do something you deserve punishment for?” you tilt your head to the side.

He opens his mouth to reply, but then decides against it, just stares back at you and you wish you could read his mind. He pushes himself away from the island and starts to walk away, you take it as your wind or this round, so you turn back to your snack, but then suddenly he moves back and cages you between his arms, his hands gripping the counter on either side of you. He is behind you now, not even touching you anywhere, but still, it’s as if he was everywhere on your body. Your breath hitches in your throat when you hear his low voice in your ear.

“If you want to play, I’m happy to play along. But be careful, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

This should be the perfect moment for a clever remark, but your mind is so fogged up you can’t articulate one solid thought. He moves back and you feel his presence disappear from behind you before you see him walking back towards the office, but before he could disappear he shoots one last comment at you.

“Pink looks good on you!”

He did not joke when he said he would play along.

So far, only you’ve been playing this game, but since your little pool side performance, Harry has definitely turned it up on his side as well.

He has been pretty subtle so far. The bastard has noticed that his tattoos make you droop, that you love to check out his backside whenever he is wearing fitted pants and those smirks… they make you weak in the knees every damn time. And he takes every opportunity to use these against you whenever you run into each other.

You’ve been dropping by your dad’s office a lot more often than usually in hopes of seeing Harry and he’s been a frequent guest at your dad’s house as well. Stolen looks, tiny touches and never ending teasing have become your usual lately and you’ve been enjoying it way too much probably.

It’s been pretty long since you had a crush and it’s an exciting change to have this little thing going on with Harry, whatever it really is.

The major change is that you’ve started to text again. A few days after your encounter in your dad’s kitchen the flow started again and you’ve been talking ever since. It’s like before the failed date.

Two weeks pass by and you realize it’s been only small little games, nothing extreme since your show at the pool. You’ve been trying to come up with a move that will leave him defeated and a shopping spree with Dani is what gives you the idea.

She always makes you go lingerie shopping, she likes to surprise her boyfriend with new sets and while looking around you find one that catches your eyes and you end up buying it with the pure intention of making it part of your game.

You’ve never been that big of a fan of fancy lingerie sets, but you do know it’s what you need to spice the game up.

When you’re finally home you put on the quite revealing black set, fix your hair and even look up what poses are the best if you want to send racy pictures to your partner. Well, Harry is not your romantic partner, but definitely your partner in this game.

You take quite a few pictures, some in the mirror, some with a timer, your camera roll turns into the newest issue of PlayBoy and it takes even more time for you to choose just one. When you finally settle on one it’s time for the fun part. Opening up the text threat with Harry, you send the photo and a few moments later a text.

Y/N: Sorry, meant to send it to someone else.

And then you just wait.

For an hour your message stays unread, but then the status changes and your heart jumps into your throat. He saw the message eleven minutes ago, but there’s no response and it sends you down the rabbit hole.

Did your plan work? Is he fighting a major hard-on at the office? Or does he think your attempt to seduce him was ridiculous? Is he gonna lecture you about sending nudes? Why is he not responding???

Minutes turn into an hour and you’re losing hair at this point, regretting you even thought about sending him a spicy picture and you’re about to block his number, getting yourself ready to never see him again when your phone finally chimes with a message and Harry’s name appears in the notification.

HARRY: No. Shit like this can only be meant for me. I’m serious.

You gasp. Almost moan reading his words. And suddenly you forget about the madness you went through in the past hour. It was worth it, it was all worth it because this one message has lit you on fire.

His message stunned you so much you didn’t even reply. What could be said after that?

Got it, sir.

Or maybe…

Don’t tell me what to do.

Oh yeah, that would have really messed with him, but you chose silence and he didn’t double text you either. It stopped the flow of regular messages too and in the next three days you realize how much you miss him when you’re not talking.

You’re falling for him and you hate that beside the little games, he is not taking the step you want him to.

A few days after the picture was sent an old friend of yours comes to visit his family in the city and the two of you agree to catch up over dinner. Salim was your study buddy through college, he was always up to spend the entire day in the library whenever you had a theoretical exam to take. Art school wasn’t just painting and creating all the time, unfortunately. After graduation he moved to France with his boyfriend and has been living there for the past years, but he often comes home to visit his loved ones and he always makes time for you as well. You’ve been keeping in touch, but not as regularly as you used to and it’s great to talk when you’re not only in the same time zone but also in the same room.

“Look at you! You’re glowing!” he greets you when you get out of the Uber and he wraps you in a tight hug.

“Not as much as you! I see Claude is taking good care of you!” you chuckle, squeezing him back before letting go of each other. He looks stylish as always and you notice he’s starting to dress more and more like Claude, whose style is excellent, by the way. They fit each other really well.

You walk into the restaurant, it’s one of your favorite places and the host shows you your table. You order appetizers and drinks and dig into everything you haven’t discussed over the phone in the past couple of months.

“Now, tell me about that Tinder guy you last mentioned,” Salim smirks at you over the table and you realize you never told him the whole story, just that you were going on a date with Harry.

A lot has happened since then.

You update him about the failed date and the meeting at the barbeque and how you’ve been messing with each other since then.

“You did what?” He almost chokes on his wine.

“I sent him a nude picture,” you repeat yourself with a coy smile.

“You’re really brave, I would have never had the balls,” he snorts.

“I needed to step my game up. But we’ve been stuck since then.”

“He’s too busy jerking off to your photo,” he chuckles.

“No,” you smile. “Maybe he is… here.”

Your eyes grow wide when you spot the all too familiar form of Harry by the bar and he is staring at you with a bewildered look that does things to you that you can’t exactly explain.

“What?” Salim’s face forms a confused frown.

“He is… literally here. At the bar and don’t turn around, but he is looking straight at us.”

Your body is reacting as if you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to, but nothing like that is happening, so you’re not sure why your reaction is so intense. Luckily, discretion is no problem for Salim, so he turns to see Harry in a way that’s not too obvious. When he looks back at you his eyes are just as wide as yours.

“Holy shit, he really is hot!”

“I know!” you whisper, not sure what to do, because Harry is still very much staring at you. “Fuck, should I say hi?”

“No, let him come to you if he wants to!”

Nodding, you try your best to focus on the food and your friend in front of you, but it’s almost impossible when you can clearly see Harry over Salim’s shoulder. Either he keeps staring at you or you always catch him looking, doesn’t matter, because it makes your stomach drop every time your gaze meets his.

Then your phone lights up with a text from him.

HARRY: I hope it’s not a date.

“Oh my God, he thinks we are on a date,” you whisper to Salim upon reading the text while keeping your face as straight as humanly possible.

“Is he jealous?”

“Most likely,” you nod, typing your response.

Y/N: And what if it is?

His reply comes before you could even lock the phone.

HARRY: It better not be.

Y/N: So bossy. Unfortunately, you have no right to hold me back from dating.

“I think I stood my ground, but I feel like I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

Placing the phone back to the table with screen down you’re determined to focus on Salim from now on, but it’s just impossible to move on from those texts. At some point however, Harry disappears from your view and you fight the urge to check your phone to see if he had any response.

While Salim is trying to decide if he wants some dessert or just another cocktail you excuse yourself to the restroom. It’s definitely been an emotional rollercoaster, not just your usual friendly catch-up, you’ll surely be thinking about it for a while.

Just as you’re about to close the door behind you a foot sticks in and stops you and then everything happens so fast.

The door is forced open and you gasp as you take a step back and watch Harry walk in, close the door behind him and lock it as well. His eyes are burning as he looks at you and you’re just a speechless ragdoll as he pushes you against the cold, tiled wall, caging you between his arms, his hips pressing against yours.

“Who is he?” he hisses at you, his pupils dilated and wild and you’ve never seen him from this close, you’re basically breathing the same air.

“He’s…” You can’t speak or form any words, the air is pushed out of your lungs every time you try to fill them enough to give you the strength to speak up. Fuck, you’ve never seen him like this, but it’s making your pussy throb for sure.

“Answer me or I’ll go out and make a scene to find out.”

“He’s just a friend,” you manage to breathe out.

“Are you fucking him?”

“No.” You want to tell him that you couldn’t even if you wanted to, because Salim would be more interested in fucking him than you, but the words die on your tongue when he exhales sharply at your answer.

“Fuck your little games, Y/N,” he then says, almost growls as he shakes his head in defeat.

“Fuck me instead,” you hear yourself saying, but it’s as if it wasn’t you who spoke, yet you still said exactly what you had in your mind.

HIs eyes are throwing flames again when one of his hands moves to the side of your neck, his thumb moving under your chin to tilt your head upwards, angling your head, but still just teasing you.

“No more games.”

“No,” you shake your head desperately. Your hands have found their way to his waist and you fist his shirt, fighting the urge to rip it off him.

“I mean it, Y/N. It’s all in or nothing. I want you to be mine.”

“I’m already yours.”

His kiss comes so fast your head goes dizzy for a second before you recover and return it just as eagerly as it came. It’s been the longest foreplay, weeks worth of teasing and yearning after each other end now as Harry’s body presses you against the wall with so much force it’s almost too much, but you want him as close as possible.

Even though you’re certain you’ve lost your mind, your consciousness still knows you’re in a public bathroom and you have limited time. Harry knows too and he wastes no time moving you over to the counter, he hoists you up and sits you on top of the granite next to the sink. You gladly wrap your legs around his waist and lock him against you while his mouth is now exploring the curve of your neck and shoulders, desperately pushing the straps of your dress to the side to reach more of your skin. Your body is reacting instantly to him, your hips roll against him and you feel his bulge between your legs, a tortured moan slipping out of your mouth.

“Harry!” you beg him, when his hand slips under your dress and into your underwear, his skilled fingers teasing you just right, but you need him fast and hard, this is not the time and place to play games.

“I wish I could take my time with you,” he grunts before playfully biting the soft skin on your neck while unbuckling his belt. “But I’m gonna fuck you fast and you’ll take it like the good little slut you are.”

All you can do is whine and force your legs further apart, watching him push his pants and underwear down in one motion, his cock springing free, ready to ruin you. Harry pushes your dress up your torso and hooks a finger into your panties, pushing the fabric to the side to reveal your drenched pussy.

“Have you thought about me while touching yourself?” he asks, his other hand going to his cock, lazily tugging on it, precum dripping from the tip.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He jerks on his cock a few more times before spitting on it and pushing inside you without warning. A scream dies in your throat, because you bite into your own hand not to make too much noise, but he is definitely bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, his erection is filling you up, stretching you like nothing and no one before.

“Don’t whine, I know you can take it,” he pants, his eyes rapidly switching between your face and his cock buried balls deep inside you.

All you can do is nod before he starts moving. He gives you a few slow thrusts to adjust, but then he picks his pace up and starts slamming into you ruthlessly.

And you love every moment of it.

It’s so animalistic, so intoxicating, your head feels dizzy again and you need everything inside you not to start screaming his name. Normally you need more stimulation and time to feel your orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach, but it’s different with Harry. You can already feel your climax nearing.

“So fucking good, you take me so well,” he preaches you, his hands holding onto your thighs to keep you in place and you curl an arm around his neck to pull yourself closer to him, pressing your lips to his in a messy kiss.

“I wanted to fuck you the moment I saw you in that bar.”

His words reach your brain and you process what he said, but you can’t reply at that moment, because you’re already on the verge of your orgasm.

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to reach your climax, he is the first one but you chase after him just seconds later. It lasts long and he keeps thrusting into you even when it’s dying down. His face is buried in your neck when he finally stops and you both are panting heavily.

When he lifts his head he’s looking at you with hazy eyes, but the smile that tugs on the corners of his lips is something you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

“You said you wanted to fuck me the moment you saw me at the bar,” you repeat his words from earlier now that you can actually form words. Judging from the look on his face he knows why you’re questioning him.

You never met at the bar, he stood you up that night.

“I went there,” he admits. “I saw that other guy flirting with you and… I didn’t think I stood a chance with you. So I left.”

You’re staring back at him in disbelief. All this time you thought he didn’t come because you weren’t good enough for him, but it was the opposite. He was there. He came and wanted to meet you, but lost his confidence because of that random guy.

“You’re the only person who ever stood a chance with me,” you softly say as you reach up to take his face in your hands.

“I thought I was too old for you.”

“But I knew you were older all along,” you chuckle. “It was never an issue for me.”

“I know,” he admits with a sigh. “I fucked up, I’m sorry.” He kisses you softly and it’s mind-blowing how he was fucking you hard just moments ago and now he is treating you so gently.

“I need to go back, Salim will get suspicious,” you sigh as you slip off the counter, trying to fix yourself.

“Oh, your date is waiting for you,” he teases you, pulling his pants back up.

“He is gay, Harry,” you chuckle and watch his expression change.

“Okay, I approve.”

You laugh and pull him down for another kiss.

“Should we talk about this after?”

“I can come over when you get home.”

“I’m afraid we won’t do much talking if you do that,” you grin at him, arching an eyebrow.

“Promise, I’ll be a gentleman for at least thirty minutes. That should be enough for all the talking.”

“Uhuh, alright. See you at mine then,” you nod before slipping out of the bathroom.

The plates are empty, dinner is now officially nearing its end but you still haven’t broken the news to your dad.

The news that you and Harry are together.

He is sitting across from you at the table, his hesitant eyes finding your gaze every other minute. He is shitting his pants, you know that, even though you told him your dad will probably take it well. He is not one to stress about such things, but Harry didn’t believe you, he thinks he’ll throw him out of the company and tell you to never see him again.

Absurd.

Clearing your throat you decide it’s time for the announcement.

“Dad, I want to tell you something,” you speak up and panic flashes through Harry’s face for a moment, but he’s quick to mask it.

“Alright, I’m listening,” he smiles at you.

“Okay, I’ll just… Um, I want you to know that I’ve been dating someone. It’s kind of… serious,” you add, your eyes finding Harry over the table and you don’t miss the blush on his cheeks.

“That’s amazing! Do I know this person?” your dad enthuses.

“Well, you know him very well. He is actually sitting here at the table.”

You watch as realization washes over his face, he looks over at Harry and then back at you, while you both wait for his reaction.

Then a tiny smile appears on his face and you know you were right, there was nothing to worry about.

“That’s great news, I’m happy for you.”

Harry exhales in relief and you can’t help but laugh.

“See? I told you,” you smirk at him with a shrug.

“Are you sure you’re alright with it?” Harry asks, still a bit doubtful, but your dad just smiles at him warmly.

“I’m more than sure, son. Why would I not be alright with it? I trust you with my company, I trust you with my daughter too. Easy as it is.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut

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accio-sriracha · 3 months

Text

Writing a Marauders fic from a hospital bed and hearing the nurse go:

"Oh, is that tumblr? I used to love reading Harry Potter stuff on there a long time ago!"

And not knowing how to explain that well actually you got the HP part right but THIS is Harry's dead dad and his dead dad's dead best friend's dead little brother with a lot of psychological problems who in this fic quite literally kills his mother before having HEAVY sexual tension with said dead father...

Maybe not quite your typical 'Oh its a Harry Potter post!' kind of story...

Bonus points tho, she did say she likes the idea of wolfstar so I think we're getting somewhere.

By this point tomorrow I will have this nurse hooked in the marauders Fandom just you wait.

#marauders #marauders era #harry potter #sirius black #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker

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aanoia · 5 months

Note

OMG I HAVE ANOTHER ONE I HAVE ANOTHER ONE

What about putting lights on the house with single dad James that’s also next door neighbor. So basically Harry sees their nice next door neighbor struggling to put up the outside decorations and he forces his dad to help. And Que cute decorating time and end with hot cocoa and baking cookies with Harry!

I LOVED this idea, thank you

𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 - a hallmark christmas movie

James Potter x reader day eight of christmas advent calendar words; 1,600+ warnings; broken glass i made harry really clumsy and lily evil so enjoy

Y/n sighed, hands on her hips, as she stared at the bucket of tangled Christmas lights. She thought hard on how she could possibly do this, the years before she’s always had a boyfriend or her dad do it. But this year, not only was she single but her dad was visiting her sister in America this Christmas.

‘If only magic was real,’ She thought while shaking her head and beginning to work on the Christmas lights.

Y/n struggled to pull out a single strand, so she decided to just pour them all out instead. She sat on her snowy lawn, thankful she had decided to wear her snow gear before she came out. Y/n sat there, pulling roughly on the lights and fighting off frustrated tears.

After ten minutes of trying she threw the lights onto the snow in annoyance and flopped onto her back, spreading out her arms and legs as if she was making a snow angel. She glared at the snow falling from the sky.

From inside the next door house, a little boy with charcoal hair watched the woman intently from the window. His breath fogged up the window, so every breath he exhaled he wiped his sleeve against the cold glass.

“Harry, it’s rude to stare.” The boy's dad, James, said as he hugged his son from behind and pulled him up. Harry laughed as James tickled his stomach.

“I think she needs help, dada.” Harry mentioned - his lisp making his “s” sound like a “th” - and James cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah, what makes you think that?” He asked his son.

“Look, she can’t get her Christmas lights to go apart.” He explained and James peered out the window to see his neighbors figure in the snow, struggling to untangle lights.

James ruffled his son's hair and set him back down, “She’ll figure it out, bud, don’t worry.”

Y/n sighed in relief as the Christmas lights were finally untangled. She stood up, her legs cracking loudly, and picked up the connected strands. She connected the end to a long extension cord. Y/n waddled over to the ladder and prayed her driveway didn’t have any ice she couldn’t see as she climbed up cautiously.

A gust of wind blew past and she gripped onto the sides roughly, closing her eyes and sending a prayer to the universe. She took another step up, and another, until she could finally reach the hooks on the edge of her house. Y/n looped the strand around the hook and brought it over to the next.

She repeated this multiple times until she got to the end. Y/n glanced at her neighbors window and smiled at the sight of the small boy looking at her from inside. He gave her a wide smile, showing his missing two front teeth. She waved at him, instantly regretting her decision.

A large gust of wind blew by and her lights flickered and zapped, causing her to startle and slip from the ladder. A loud crack filled the air and immediately she was in a warm pair of strong arms. Y/n didn’t care who it was, she just held on tightly to her savior as she tried to calm her heart.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice asked as he set her down and Y/n finally looked up.

‘What in the Hallmark Christmas movie is this?’ She wondered as she stared in the framed eyes of her hot neighbor. His front door closed loudly as his little boy ran over worriedly.

“Are you okay, Miss Y/n?” Harry asked, grabbing onto her hand with both his small ones. His snowcoat was on backwards and his scarf was in a tangle around his head, but at least he tried.

Y/n smiled and leaned down to the boy, “Oh, yes, I’m perfectly fine, Harry, thank you.” Harry took a step and wrapped his arms around the woman.

“Up, please.” He said quietly and Y/n laughed as she picked him up. James watched the interaction with awe in his eyes. He’s never seen a woman like that with Harry, not since Lily left the two for America.

“Thank you, James. I really appreciate it.” Y/n said and James smiled.

“Of course, anytime. Let me finish the job for you though.” He offered and Y/n nodded, holding tightly onto the little boy.

“Be careful.” Y/n warned as James climbed up the ladder. He laughed and put the strand on the last hook before sliding down the ladder.

“Easy peasy.” He boasted and Y/n rolled her eyes and set Harry down. “We better get back to our house.”

“No!” Harry complained.

Y/n held out a hand, stopping the man from dragging his kid back to their house, “Do you want to come in? I have a tree I still need to decorate and some cookies practically begging to be baked.” James was silent as he contemplated. “I have hot cocoa! With the little chunks of candy cane in it.”

James immediately nodded, “I’m sold.”

“Okay, crack the eggs carefully, Harry. We don’t want any of the shells getting into the batter, alright?”

Harry nodded, “Okay.” He smashed the egg against the bowl and cracked it perfectly and he did it again with the second egg. When the third egg came around, he hit against the bowl with just a little too much force and the insides of the egg out, half going onto the table and the other half in the bowl, egg shells going along with it.

The room was silent for a moment before Y/n began laughing, the two boys quickly joining in. Y/n shook her head in amusement as she grabbed a spoon and handed it to Harry, instructing him to fish out the egg shells as she grabbed a napkin and quickly cleaned the egg on the table.

“Harry, don’t eat the raw egg.” James said with a smile and Harry stuck his tongue out at his dad. James returned the gesture as Y/n measured a cup of flour. She handed it to Harry who dumped the flour onto his head instead of in the bowl.

“What?” Y/n asked as James stood in shock as bits of flour fell from his sons head.

“What was the point of that?” James asked and Harry laughed, the adults joining in with him to make the kitchen full of laughter once again.

“Oh, you’re such a dork.” Y/n teased. “Tell you what, the bathroom is just down the hall, I’ll finish the batter while you go let your dad clean you up, yeah?” Harry nodded and jumped off the stool, causing more flour to cover the ground in white.

“I’m sorry.” James said as he followed after his kid.

Y/n smiled, “You can use my shampoo.”

“Okay, Harry, you have to be very careful with this one. It’s very fragile.” Y/n said as she handed Harry a glass ornament. Harry nodded and held the ornament by the string.

Unavoidably, Harry tripped over a box and in an attempt to steady himself the ornament dropped to the floor and shattered into pieces. Harry immediately began crying and worry filled Y/n’s body, afraid he had been cut by the glass. She swept him off the floor and checked his bare feet to see nothing but blank skin. She looked at his hands to see them in the same condition.

“Oh, Harry, what’s wrong? Did you get hurt?” She asked as James rushed to get the broom from the kitchen.

“I broke your tree decoration!” He said, which only made him wail louder. Y/n sat on her sofa and cradled the boy in her arms.

“Oh, love, it’s okay. It’s just an ornament. I’m just glad you’re okay.” She said quietly and James froze at the sight, broom in hand.

His heart swelled as he only fell deeper in love with his neighbor. He had always thought she was beautiful, but seeing how she interacted with Harry - both today and many previous interactions - made him feel more than just attraction. He was curious and felt a longing for her. He didn’t want her to only take up the hole Lily left in his heart, he wanted her to take his whole heart, and Harry’s too.

Once Harry stopped crying, he quickly fell asleep, exhausted from the day and its endeavors.

“We had a really good time.” James said as the two adults walked to the front door.

“Yeah, I did too. I’ll make sure to bring over some cookies for you two.” Y/n responded with a smile, leaning against the doorframe as James took a step into the dark night.

He turned around, “Y/n…” He hesitated.

“Yes?”

James glanced up and smiled, “There’s a mistletoe.” He said quietly and Y/n’s eyes flitted up as well. She furrowed her brows at the mistletoe, she had definitely not put that there. She didn’t even own one.

Her eyes met James again, “So it seems.”

James leaned in, and when Y/n didn’t protest he went farther. Y/n’s hand found James’ cheek and she gently connected their lips. The kiss was soft, and warm, despite the cold air nipping at their cheeks. Y/n laughed softly as they pulled apart.

“What’s so funny?” James asked with a grin.

“You’re cute.” She whispered and he was thankful the cold reddened his cheeks before she could.

“Good night.” He responded.

“Good night, James.” Y/n said and closed the door, leaning against it once he left. She slid down and sat with a giddy smile. “Definitely a Hallmark Christmas movie.”

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#james & peter & remus & sirius #remus lupin #the marauders #marauders era #harry potter #sirius black #aanoia #romance #marauders #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x you

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sommerregenjuniluft · 1 month

Text

@croptopjames submission for mr james fleamont potter's birthday<3

2598 words - NSFW - cw: spanking, squirting, dirty talk, lil bit of degradation theyre being nasty idk it escalated

aka feral fucking your husband after seeing him in a shirt that doesn't quite fit like it used to~

“Baby, I’m home,” Regulus shouts after entering the front door, kicking it closed behind him with his foot as he balances the huge ice cream cake precariously on both his hands.

They’ve invited the whole family as per usual, what with their first year with Harry out of the house coming back from uni for his dad’s special day, Sirius and Remus driving down and picking up Effie and Monty on the way. All their friends will come later this week for brunch.

Today it’s just the few of them though and Regulus finds himself with a spring in his step at the thought of all of them together today.

James has taken the day off and Regulus was able to weasel his way into only half a shift today which he nearly missed entirely after the way James had sat down in his lap first thing in the morning and ridden him until he was shaking, cursing and babbling incoherently, all the while his husband was seated on his throne, smiling brightly, happiest man in the world, practically taking the matter of his birthday gift into his own hands.

“Hi love!” comes from somewhere on the higher level of the house.

Regulus brings the cake into the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket and quickly dispensing the celebratory sweet in the freezer before James sees it.

Not a moment after Regulus closes the drawer to grab a bowl of blueberries from the fridge James comes into the kitchen, huffing and cheeks flushed, a presumably heavy box of just…stuff in his arms that he must have gotten from the attic.

“James,” Regulus starts, blinking, “You were supposed to take the day off.”

His husband smacks a content kiss onto his cheek, grinning brightly. His glasses are smudged and sitting crookedly over his nose and Regulus is pretty sure he spotted a bit of spiderwebs in the mess of his hair.

“Ehh,” James makes dismissively, “I still felt restless after I hit the gym this morning once you left.”

He places the box down with a heavy thunk, petting its side like a horse—he’s such a dad, “And we’ve been wanting to get started on these babies after spring cleaning anyway, remember?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, fondness betraying him when the corners of his mouth tug upwards, “Mm, that might be true. Still it’s your birthd—”

Regulus halts.

“Love?” James looks at him inquiringly, hands propped on his hips.

On his very much naked hips. A palm length sliver of skin exposed between the indecently thin and short gym shorts and the—

“James, baby, what are you wearing?”

Oh, Regulus’ mouth is so, so dry.

“Huh?” James looks down at himself, shuffling in place before his head snaps back up to Regulus, “Oh! Yeah I found one of my old shirts from uni.” His husband snickers, giving a little twirl and shaking his hips from side to side like he isn’t currently taking five years off Regulus’ life expectancy.

“You–” Regulus stops again, eyes glued to the small swell of his stomach over the band of the white shorts, the dark hair splattered all over and coiling at the center, carving a path up and downwards. It’s downright indecent. His arms fill out the shirt just how they used to back in uni but with the difference that it’s more fat than muscle now—though Regulus knows well enough from personal experience how strong his husband still is. His pecs are visibly straining the material, the washed out, maroon letters spelling HOGWARTS cracking from the stretch.

Even more so when James leans back on his palms against the dining table, draping himself all prettily against the edge and smiling coyly, blinking doe brown eyes from under long lashes at Regulus as if he didn’t already have him warpped around his finger hook, line and sinker.

“Baby,” Regulus rasps and he barely recognises his own voice.

“Yeah, Reg?” James purrs, tilting his head and exposing the expanse of his neck.

“How long until Harry arrives?”

“An hour or two, depending on traffic,” James responds, voice all husky. Regulus is going to wreck him. Reduce him to a stuttering, squirting mess in the matter of half an hour, take his fucking word for it.

“Good enough,” Regulus grits out and then he crosses the distance in two long strides, already yanking at his tie.

They meet in a mess of parted lips, clicking teeth and tongues nudging, eager as ever, trying to lick into each other’s mouths and taste. Greedy for it, happily swallowing moans and tugging their bodies close. They slot into each other easily, practiced after all these years, decades and Regulus reckons that’s how they somewhat safely find their way onto the couch.

Regulus’ back hits the cushions with a soft oompf, barely time to gasp another breath and reach for his husband before James is straddling his lap, clasping Regulus’ stubbly jaw in warm, calloused palms and pulling him right back into their kiss. They don’t stay there for long with the way James is restlessly shifting on top of him, grinding his crotch right against the bulge in Regulus’ slacks, making them both groan.

At some point Regulus abandons James’ mouth in favor of kissing over the stubble of his cheek and jaw and latch onto his throat while simultaneously trying to get his stupid shirt buttons open. When the takes too long however James seems to grow impatient, batting his hands away and fumbling with them himself while they pant and grunt into each other’s mouths.

Regulus is nipping at James’ lower lip, already swollen and an obscene kiss bitten red and his husband makes a sound. Downright needy and he’s sitting there on top of Regulus, flushed and with that dazed look in his eyes, moaning like a little slut, so Regulus can’t quite help himself when he pulls one hand around and smacks James’ firmly on the bum.

It elicits a gasp, high pitched and followed by a long, drawn out moan and James sinking deeper into his lap, recapturing his mouth and desperately rutting down against where Regulus is hard and already throbbing. It’s a medical miracle, truly, that no matter how many times they’ve had sex, Regulus’ erection is always at its best form for James.

“Mnh,” James makes, their lips parting with a wet smacking noise, “Need you, baby.”

Regulus grunts, fingers digging harshly into the meat of James’ arse, “Slut.”

Just like expected, James whimpers, and so prettily at that. Eyebrows scrunching pitifully and he grinds once more, helplessly, “Please, please.”

“But of course, sweety,” Regulus relents easily, licking a hot stripe up his neck, along his jawbone and then right across his slack mouth, “Anything for the birthday boy.”

James moans in response, nodding his head frantically.

Regulus nods his head towards the end of the couch where the pillows are piled, “Scoot up.”

His husband does so dutifully and it doesn’t take longer than a second for Regulus to make James lift his hips and rip the sheer piece of nylon off and throw it over his shoulder, not quite surprised yet still horribly taken off guard by the lack of boxer briefs underneath.

Regulus is left with nothing to do but stare at the mess of wet, thick curls and pink fold glistening with James’ slick, spit pooling under his tongue in an instant. He grabs James’ ankles, settling them over his shoulders, trainers still on and letting his hands drive over white tennis socks, hairy shins and strong calves. Digging his thumb in there and relishing in the gasp he elicits from his husband that way, hips twitching with the suspense. Regulus strokes up his boney knees, massages the big muscle of his thighs, the hair tickling his palms softly, all the while letting himself pitch forward, making sure to spill warm breath over where James wants him most right now.

He goes further, letting his hands rake up and over his stomach, rucking the shirt up as he goes and tucking it over the swell of his pecks, exposing him for Regulus to play with.

James is panting, short little puffs of breath, brimming with excitement and barely refraining from whimpering on the way out each time.

Predictably, he breaks once Regulus lazily swirls a tongue around his exposed nipple, holding the eye contact and watching with satisfaction as James’ eyelids flutter. He can’t help but grin, nipping at the hardened nub before he retreats, settling himself comfortably between James’ thighs and without warning diving right in.

James positively screams the moment Regulus closes his lips around his cock, sucking him into his mouth and rolling him around between his lips until the bucking of his hips throws him off. Regulus hoists an arm over James’ hips, belting him down, and wastes no time inserting one finger into James’ searing wetness, sinfully hot inside.

“Ahh yesyes, please more, love, please m-hah—” James babbles, throwing his head back when Regulus drives into him with another finger, crooking them upwards and watching shamelessly as his husband’s precum pools all over his digits before diving back in to lick at his little cock.

He works them steadily up to each finger until he is four in deep, repeatedly hitting that spot inside of James and sucking and mouthing at the bundle of nerves until James’ noises grow an edge.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” Regulus asks, muffled between licks, jaw aching slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, gonna– hnng,” James breaks off, screwing his eyes shut when Regulus gives a particularly harsh suck, noises obscenely loud.

He’s fisting the cushions like his life depends on it, white knuckling them in his grip, and it only takes a handful more thrusts and licks before James is shuddering through his first orgasm. Breaths coming quicker until he eventually breaks off into a keen, thighs quivering around Regulus’ head, squeezing at his skull and riding it out, grinding his cunt uncoordinatedly forward into Regulus’ face all the while convulsing around his fingers.

He squeezes in waves of pleasure and it makes Regulus so delirious that he blinks and the next thing he knows is him kneeling against James’ ass, belt undone, slacks shoved down just enough and prodding at his slick, puffy entrance with the head of his cock.

James is staring unblinkingly at the ceiling, mouth agape and pupils so dilated they’ve swallowed most of the beautiful, dark chocolate brown.

“Baby,” Regulus prompts, bending James’ knees towards his ears with a grunt, “Jamie, be a good boy and hold these there for me.” His husband slowly blinks him back into focus, silently obliging and hooking his fingers into the bend of his knees—thank the higher powers James still does yoga once a week.

Regulus leans in, one hand holding him up off the couch, the other fisting around the length of him and smearing it through James’ wetness, “Now are you going to be able to be good and keep yourself wide open for me or are you already fucked too stupid, huh? An old man? Maybe we should postpone it for next year, ay papi, what do you say?”

James whines pathetically, rubbing his head into one of the throw pillows, knotting his black hair up even more before he swallows frantically, “No, Reg, pleaseplease, I can take it. Please, love, I’m gonna be good for you, I prom–Aah—”

Regulus bottoms out in one smooth thrust, vision dotting with black spots at the mind bending heat and vice grip James has on him, already pulsing around him shallowly.

He grants James a moment to get used to being full, slowly rocking his hips back and forth and listening for when his whimpers turn into soft moans, turning needy again, and then he reaches up to grip his chin, “Then take it, slut.”

The pace he picks up into is hard, not too fast but unforgiving and steady, a sure way to drive James crazy. Regulus nips his way along his husband’s chest, nuzzling his nose through chest hair and biting and licking at his dark nipples, tasting salt and sweat, feeling his cock twitch at the taste deep inside his husband.

When Regulus feels himself lose rhythm he hikes James’ legs impossibly higher, draping one of them over his shoulder before he starts spanking him again. The angle is awkward but it’s working, going off of the way James keeps jerking at the stinging contact, clenching around the length of Regulus and working himself into a frenzy, gasping and whimpering and groaning like he’s getting the best cock of his entire life.

“Touch yourself, baby,” Regulus demands, breath stuttering as he watches a fat tear roll down the side of James’ face, disappearing into the shorter hair at his temple.

Regulus keeps James’ thighs wide and open, rolling his hips with abandon, groaning and panting with every thrust, feeling sweat bead on his forehead and desperately trying not to lose control when James snakes a hand between his legs, frantically circling his cock while Regulus keeps pumping in and out of him.

“If you could only see yourself, baby,” Regulus grits out, “Fucking masterpiece, splayed out for me like this. Obliging my every demand, so fucking good, baby.”

James moans happily, tongue lolling out and without thinking Regulus sticks two of his fingers into his mouth, rubbing over his tongue and feeling the saliva coat them thickly.

“Can you go ahead and cum for me again, Jamie?”

James whines an affirmative around his digits, slurping messily, a trickle of drool trailing down the corner off his mouth.

“Think you’ll be a good boy and squirt all over me, baby? You know how much I love when you cum like that, hm?”

James breath hitches impossibly, eyes threatening to flutter shut as he nods deliriously.

Regulus quickly grabs him by the jaw, “Keep looking at me, James. I know you can do that for me, baby.”

And so he does.

On the next thrust James starts quivering again, fingers working furiously over his cock, mouth falling open around a silent scream and gazing Regulus right in the eyes as he pounds into him and James squirts around him. Spraying everywhere, absolutely in all directions and fucking messy, wetting Regulus’ torso and the couch—Regulus wouldn’t be surprised if the carpet wasn’t unscathed either.

That’s really all Regulus can take before his hips stutter in their pace and he buries himself deep inside James, letting the pulsing of his husband’s orgasm milk him dry as he spills and spills his cum into James for what feels like minutes on end.

At some point James lets his trembling legs back down, crossing his ankles tightly under Regulus’ bum as this one keeps jerking into his husband’s hole.

Once they’re both done Regulus is too exhausted to do anything else but collapse forward into James’ chest which he accepts with a happy hum.

They take a few minutes like this, James slowly coming to and starting to play with the curls at Regulus’ nape and Regulus breathing in the comforting scent of James, raking his short nails up and down the side of his ribcage.

After a while James presses a feebly kiss into the side of Regulus’ head, huffing out a big breath that makes Regulus rise with the motion of his chest before he snickers, “Well, happy fucking birthday to me.”

Regulus chuckles into the crook of James’ neck, dropping a kiss there before lifting and staring into his husband’s droopy eyes, “Yeah, happy fucking birthday to you, baby.”

#sirius arrives and is like: huh since when do you have a blanket draped over ur couch like that? that wasn't here two weeks ag-#jegulus #*gets forcefully elbowed by regulus*#jegulus microfic #jegulus oneshot #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black #marauders #lune writes #lune’s tiny fic #trans james potter #ftm james potter #sub james potter #dom regulus black

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riotlain · 1 year

Text

General Descendants Dating Headcannons

making my descendants debut

Your parents aren't specified in this

i find specifying it when its unnecessary lame👎👎

THIS IS A NWLNW BLOG!! WOMEN DNI

Ben Florian

True gentleman!!

Regularly gives you gifts (usually to make up for his absence if taking place in the 2-3 movies)

Tight hugger. Like fr tight

Bad at explaining his negative emotions. Like he'd work himself into the ground and deny it so try to keep him in check

Enjoys going on dates at night or just staying in

He doesnt mind either

Spoils you regularly. Like you could fr give him a shiny rock and he'll give you a gold necklace💀

If youre from the Isle he'll help you settle into Auradon and try to make it less overwhelming

Carlos Devile

Silly guy (real)

More of an acts of service guy

On the isle yall would spend time running around together or just hanging out (probably at your house. He slept in a dressing room so😭😭)

He wasn't really mean or anything so like he whenever you guys run into trouble hes more of the flight kinda guy

In Auradon though it is different!!

If youre someone from Auradon he'll be more anxious when yall first started dating. He's not used to the Auradon customs (hes the best at getting used to them tbh)

If youre from the isle then he's a but more relaxed (though hes still scared he'll mess up since yall are dating now)

Dates are usually staying in and playing video games/watching movies or study dates

Jay

Physical affection typa guy (And also verbal i suppose)

Like he always has his arm around you or just his hands on you in general

Likes kissing your neck (usually more romantic way than anything)

If you are both from the isle yall spent most dates running around and stealing shit for his dad's shop

If youre from Auradon he def flirted when yall first met (or a bit later)

Your guys' dates in Auradon is usually just hanging out in one of yalls dorms

Alot if his time on the Isle is running around so he probably enjoys relaxing for a bit

You best wear his Jersey to his tourney games

Talks about you to others alot bc he just cant shut up about you for more than an hour🙄🙄

Harry Hook

Flirty man

Physical and acts of service kinda guy

also gift giving

Like you have atleast 2 necklaces (that he stole)

If yall are from the Isle then you are probably in Uma's crew

If you arent you still gotta get her blessing. If she dont like you, you gotta go

Live, laugh, love Uma

Yall spent most of yalls time probably workin in the restaurant or just causin a ruckus on the isle

If youre from Auradon tho he probably talked to Uma and Gil about you for a bit along with some lil flirting here and there

When yalls official he may try to change up your wardrobe (unless you already enjoy your current one) You have leather gloves tho. From him🫶🫶

You 2 spend time either around the crew, in one of yalls dorms cuddling, or around Auradon causin some mischief

He def steals nice shit for you

Gil

Absolute sweetheart

Physical affection and acts of service kinda guy

And verbal affection🫶🫶

If yall 2 met on the isle then you've probably met Uma and Harry and hang around them

They def tease Gil a bit

If from Auradon he fell for you but wasn't too confident with talking to you

Like he tried to do the whole thing Gaston does but it didnt work too well for him😭😭

Yalls dates are usually by the waters, shopping, or just hanging out inside

Study dates too i guess (he will not be paying attention)

Chad Charming

Literal shmuck (loving)

Gift giving and physical affection

Like literally let him spoil you

If youre from the Isle he will be a bit weary of you

Maybe try to flirt and be all charming

But when yall actually dating hes a softy idc

If youre from Auradon yall def date alot sooner

He'd probably ask you out like whenever youre free tbh😭😭 in a smooth way tho

Yalls dates are like picnics, staying in and cuddlin, and study dates

Please come to his Tourney games and wear his joursey🫶🫶

#descendants x reader #descendants x male reader #ben florian x reader #ben florian x male reader #harry hook x reader #harry hook x male reader #carlos devile x reader #carlos devile x male reader #jay x reader #jay x male reader #chad charming x reader #chad charming x male reader

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hannahhook7744 · 2 years

Text

The troubles of parenting as a pirate;

Summary; here is a snippet of Captain James Hook's struggle as a father to his five kids-- Ginny Gothel, Harriet Hook, Harry Hook, CJ Hook, and Hannah Hook.

Trigger warning; fire and brief mention of child injury.

⚔🏴‍☠️⚓🦴⚔🏴‍☠️⚓🦴⚔🏴‍☠️⚓🦴⚔🏴‍☠️⚓🦴⚔🏴‍☠️

"THE FIRE BLOODY WELL DIDN'T START ITSELF! SO, WHICH ONE OF YOU DID?!" Was a sentence 47 year old, Captain James Bartholomew Hook never thought he'd be saying at 2am to anyone-- let alone his own kids.

Yet here he was in the kitchen of his ship in his robe, arms crossed, staring down his 5 young children. Waiting for an answer that would likely not come easily, knowing his kids. And it seemed he was right because all he was met with in that moment was silence. Pure, blissful silence that he would have loved to have any other moment of the day that was not now.

His eldest two (who didn't know they were sisters) sat side by side, mirroring his stance. Arms crossed, blue eyes meeting his own-- faces showing no emotion at all. The bottoms of their night gowns singed and their slippers covered in ash. It was just his luck both of his eldest daughters (Harriet and Ginny) had inherited his stubbornness and ability to keep a tight lip about things, despite the fact that he hadn't even raised one of them. Teenagers.

A quick glance at his remaining three told him that they weren't going to be much help in figuring out what exactly had transpired either. Harry was glaring at his banaged feet, sulking and no longer howling in pain. The bottoms of his trouser legs having long since burned away. His night shirt and hands, which were gripping his knees, covered in ash and soot.

Little 8 year old Calista was the messiest of the five. Covered head to toe in soot and ash. Her clothes would definitely need to be cleaned or thrown out all together. Her hair charred black at the bottom and calling out for a hair cut. Hands burned and bandaged. Not meeting his eyes. She defines wouldn't be cooperating. All 4 of them seemed to be guilty.

The only one who seemed to not be at fault was his youngest -- little 7 year old Hannah who wasn't wearing her goggles or hearing aid. She was facing the wrong way and her hair was frizzing up everywhere, into every direction. Feet bare and not a speck of ash on her. This was the last thing he wanted to be dealing with at 2am while his wife was bedridden. But it wasn't like he could drop it without punishing one of them. Especially since whoever did has hurt Harry and Cj, and could have killed them or someone else or put them out of a home.

James sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Cj, please get Hannah's attention for me, Monkey". Cj kicked Hannah, causing the youngest girl to jump and spin around. Getting her to finally face him. He made a mental note to reprimand her as soon as Hannah was out of the room. But first..

'Hannah bug, you can go to bed. You obviously had nothing to do with this' he signed carefully, making sure she had enough time to read it without her goggles. This earned him a big smile from Hannah who swiftly left the room-- bumping into the door frame as she did so.

Cj started laughing while his oldest three all started to protest. Which was the usual for these situations.

"What--"

"Oh come on!"

"That's not fair--"

James could feel a headache coming on. One that he knew would only worsen before the night was over. As he pinched the bridge of his nose once again, all he could think was 'Have kids, they said. It will be rewarding, they said...'

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descendantofthesparrow · 1 year

Text

POYW doodle inspired by this ship-pair meme

meme by ImAshleyNLove on twitter

#disney descendants #harry hook descendants #poyw rose #art #my art #she loves him so much and hes not sure of it #then she kicks his dads ass and he's smitten and free dives into her arms #gaze upon my shitty handwriting

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eunoiathewriter · 2 years

Note

hi !!! i absolutely love your writing ! would u mind doing another harry potter imagine? thank u </3

H. POTTER X F!READER

Synopsis It's hard to stay cool when the girl you have a crush on is right there beside you.

Word Count: 2.2k

Harry and Ron yawned in unison as they walked through the woods, following Arthur Weasley, who was in the lead, with Charlie and Fred and George close at his heels, Ginny and Hermione in the middle, and lastly, the two boys. Now, both of them were excited for the Quidditch World Cup, don't get them wrong, but this whole waking up before the crack of dawn to Hermione throwing pillows at them was not exactly their favourite part of it all.

The morning, however, had been all but calm, Molly had heard Fred and George trying to smuggle Ton-Tongue Toffees out of the house to sell, even after they got scolded for what happened with Dudley. Harry's cousin having eaten one that Fred and George dropped with the intent of him eating it, causing Dudley's tongue to grow in size. This made Molly yell at the two twins just before they left.

The woods were calm in the early summer morning, with fog still on the ground. Birds had started to wake up, and you could hear them sing as they flew above the tree tops. Harry had to admit that the woods close to the burrow were quite cozy. But he was broken from his own thoughts as Ron poked him and pointed out how far back from the others they were. Jogging to catch up with the others.

"Arthur!" The boys then heard a man call out. "It's about time, son."

"Sorry Amos, some of us got a bit of a sleepy start." Arthur jokingly looked back at Ron, who yawned.

It then dawned on Harry when they came closer that it was Amos Diggory and Cedric Diggory who stood there. Harry had talked to Amos once before when the man was happy over Hufflepuffs' win last year. However, this meant another person should be there, so Harry started to look around for her.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone. Works with me, at the Ministry. " Arthur said proudly and then turned to the brown-haired boy beside the man. "This strapping young lad must be Cedric, am I right?"

Cedric smiled at the man and extended his hand to shake hands with Arthur, smiling brightly. "Yes, sir." He answered before looking up at the big tree above them.

"y/n? Are you coming or what?" Cedrict asked his sister, who had gone unnoticed, where she sat up in the tree. When Harry spotted the girl, he smiled.

y/n grinned at her brother before she tossed down her backpack for him to catch and jumped down so she landed beside Amos. Making sure her stance was stable before she straightened out.

"Well, that's quite and entrance y/n." Arthur put a hand in her shoulder and she smiled.

"Thank you."

"Alright, this way." Cedric spoke up as he started motioning towards where they were going to go. So everyone started walking, and just before Cedric got too far, he tossed the backpack back to his sister.

"You carry your own shit," He told her.

"Cedric," Amos warned the boy, and he held up his hands in retreat and showed the others the way.

y/n was just about to join in and walk with Harry when her dad stopped him. He was amazed to have Harry Potter himself with them, and she could see Harry glancing over at her. She shrugged at him and joined Hermione and Ginny.

"I don't remember your brother being so good-looking, y/n." Hermione hooked her arm through y/n's.

"Ew, Mione. That's my brother. Plus he's way too old for you."

"Who says he's too old?" Ginny asked with a raised brow, and it made y/n groan.

"Are you aware that we can hear you?"Fred then turned to the girls.

"And if we can, then Cedric probably can too." Geroge chimed in.

"Yeah, well, ego boost for him then, I guess." y/n rolled her eyes and unhooked her arm from Hermione when she saw her dad walk past to catch up with Arthur. She slowed her steps and, quite quickly, was at Harry's side.

They both started to engage in conversation with one another. They talked about everything from the joke candy and things that Fred and George had been making or trying out during the summer to this mystery thing that was to happen at Hogwarts during the year. Harry joined in with all that he heard from Arthur and y/n told all that she had gathered from her dad. They're both thinking about what it could be.

But the topic soon changed to Quidditch. Of course, Harry was proudly standing with Bulgaria, but y/n were strongly against this. She was rooting for Ireland. They talked back and forth about why their team had to win. "Bulgaria has Viktor Krum. He's the best seeker of all."

"Oh please, he's all looks. Plus, Bulgaria play dirty most of the time; they're like the equivalent of when Flint was still captain of the Slytherin team. "

"No they don't!" Harry argued back, and it made Ron turn.

"You have no idea what you're talking about y/n, Viktor Krum will make sure Bulgaria wins." Ron spoke proudly, the boy being starstruck by the well-known seeker.

"Well, Ireland has Connolly," Fred piped in.

"And Quigley." Geroge also joined in.

"See!" y/n motioned towards the twins. "Fred and George are on my side; Ginny and even Hermione, who's not into Quidditch all that much, are rooting for Ireland. You and Ron are literally the only people who are hoping Bulgaria wins just because you're in love with Viktor Krum. "

A whole argument started between all the Weasley kids, Harry and y/n. All of those who were for Ireland were arguing back and forth with the two boys and counting up reasons as to why Ireland was going to win. It was all just fun, ending with all seven of them starting to laugh.

After a little while, they had been walking for a good hour already. Harry was about to say something to y/n but instead when he turned to her, he instead got fixated on her. Eyes looked over her features, having missed her over the summer. He could feel his cheeks slowly growing warmer and warmer the more he looked at her, and soon enough he had to avert his eyes from her as it felt like his face was on fire. Harry was quite sure his cheeks were red, but he hoped to Merlin they weren't.

Surely enough, they reached the portkey, although it made Harry frown as they walked closer, as he had no idea what a portkey was. "Just over there." Amos told everyone, and Harry's frown deepened at the sight of an old boot.

Harry tugged at y/n's sleeve before asking her. "Why are they all standing around that manky old boot?"

"That isn't just any manky old boot, mate," George cut in before y/n could answer.

"It's a portkey," Fred finished as he, George, and y/n moved into position.

"Time to go!" Arthur called.

"What's a portkey?" Harry was confused.

"Ready? After three. One, two," Amos started counting, but y/n quickly looked up at Harry.

"Harry!" And with that, Harry grabbed onto the boot.

"Three."

It all started to spin, or more like they all started to spin. Slowly but surely, they lifted up from the ground up into the sky, still spinning around. Everyone except Cedric, Amos, and Arthur screamed at the continued spinning. Though the twins were screaming in cheer.

When Arthur then suddenly told them all to let go of the boot, they all clinged onto it like a life line, making all except the older Diggorys go wide-eyed. Hermione immediately protested, even though she was slowly feeling sick to her stomach from the continued spinning. They all, however, did as the man had instructed them to and all dropped to the ground. Then, hitting the ground, all of them groaned and huffed at the sudden impact of the ground.

y/n looked up from where she lay on her stomach, coming to find that Harry was only about a metre away from her. "Ouch,"

Harry sat up and nodded at her, and when he turned he could see Amos, Cedric, and Arthur, all three coming down much more gracefully than any of the others. They are certain to land on their feet. All of them were grinning from how funny all the others had landed. "I bet that cleared your sinuses, ey?" Arthur asked as the three of them landed.

Cedric was quick to help Harry get on his feet, extending an arm for him to get pulled up. Earing a smile from the younger boy as he went to help his sister. "Oh, how nice of you, Ced."

"Aw, did my baby sister get hurt?" Cedric asked sarcastically. He pulled her up to stand too, and both of them laughed. The bantering between them was just a big joke to them.

"Come on!" Arthur called as he started to walk up the hill to where camp was. It made y/n smile brightly as she immediately grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him along. "You're going to love this!" It made Harry flush a crimson colour as she pulled him along with her to join the others.

Oh god did he like her.

——

The sun had begun to set over the field where the Quidditch World Cup was being held. The sky turned orange and was slowly becoming a dark blue that would make the stars and constellations of other solar systems visible. It was still pretty warm out, not overly warm but warm enough that not a lot of clothes were needed to keep warm.

People were making their way to their seats. Many had chosen to sit in the boxes in the middle of the stadium. It was a stadium bigger than Harry had ever seen. Now, he was not exactly looking to play Quidditch professionally, but to play at a stadium like this would definitely be something unforgettable.

All of them were looking around in amazement while making their way further up, Arthur in the lead. They were on their way to the top, which was a wise decision.If they were to stay by the boxes, they would have to squeeze together with other people. But if they were to be furthest up in the stadium, they would not have to fight for space with others and would have better sight than others.

"Blimey dad, how far up are we?" Ron asked as they stopped from having been climbing from the lowest level and were about thirty stories below the top.

Just as Arthur was about to answer, another man's voice cut in. One that they all knew very well and one that made Harry roll his eyes. "Well, put it this way, if it rains, you'll be the first to know." Lucius Malfoy smiled evilly at them.

y/n and Harry stood by the railing, looking down at Lucius and Draco, who were on the lower level. It was unusual to see Draco without his slytherin uniform. Instead, he was wearing a black suit, which did not seem at all practical. Draco laughed at his father's statement.

When they started to continue walking, Draco looked up at the others and smirked. "Father and I are in the minister's box, by personal invitation from Cornelius Fudge himself."

"Don't beast, Draco." Lucius stopped Draco with his cane, making the boy rub the spot where the cane had laned. "There's no need with these people."

Draco then looked up at them again. When he saw y/n however, a sly smile made its way to his lips. It was no news to most people that Draco Malfoy had taken an interest in the Hufflepuff girl. However, y/n had zero clue about that. The look Draco gave y/n made Harry roll his eyes. A feeling of annoyance was bubbling up inside him. No, not annoyance, but jealousy.

Before the two Malfoys could say anymore, Harry grabbed y/n's shoulder and started to turn her around so they could wall off. But Lucius Malfoy was not done as he slammed the snake part of his cane down on Harry's hand before it could leave the railing. It made y/n and the others turn just like Harry.

"Do enjoy yourself. While you can. " Lucius smiled unkindly at Harry before relinquishing his hand and walking off with Draco at his heels. But Dracos' eyes still stayed tranced to y/n.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah, just fine."

"Well, let's keep moving then. "We don't want anyone taking our place, do we?"Amos called from where he stood, and everyone began working their way up the stairs.

"Are you sure you're fine?" y/n turned to Harry as they waited to start climbing the stairs.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Nothing big. " Harry stuttered as he once more felt his cheeks heat up. But this time, it seemed like y/n noticed and it made him avert his eyes from her.

y/n smiled as she quickly gave him a peck on the cheek, taking the boy by surprise. "Good, now come on."

Harry couldn't fight the grin that broke out on his face when y/n turned and grabbed a hold of his hand to start wall up the stairs.

Oh boy.

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avatar-anna · 1 year

Text

Love Games

summary: in which harry and y/n navigate having a secret relationship

young dad!harry, part of this / this universe

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Never have I ever had a song written about me.”

“Never have I ever made out with someone twice my age.”

“Never have I ever hooked up with a fan.”

With each prompt given, Harry was forced to give the answer that would best fit his image. Everyone laughed or cheered when he revealed that he had in fact done those things, which made the lunch Y/n had an hour earlier curdle in her stomach.

She knew it was all lies, that he’d never done any of those things—unless she counted as a fan—and that this was all part of his carefully curated popstar persona. The real truth was PR stunts and fake dates that made Harry seem a certain type of way to the general public. The truth was that Harry was that Harry wasn’t the womanizer everyone thought he was. The truth was he was the father of a two year old who he helped potty train and taught new words and sang lullabies to. Harry Styles wasn’t who he was portrayed to be, Y/n knew that, but something she couldn’t put a name to irritated her about the game, the questions, and Harry’s answers.

Because another truth was that Harry spent a lot of time on the road. He was handsome, talented, rich, and popular. And Y/n knew that even if those who wanted him knew about her and the daughter she and Harry had, they would still throw themselves at him. Who was to say that after an argument over the phone or if he was just feeling particularly lonely that he didn’t seek the comfort of someone else while she was home with Simone?

It was a terrible thing to think, but rumors about Harry being in a relationship with a model were running rampant the last few days. Rumors about Harry dating someone were always running rampant. Y/n normally didn’t give tabloids and gossip sites much thought, but for some reason it was all getting to her.

“Mumma? Hold you?”

Looking away from the hotel TV—because you couldn’t actually go to the live taping without raising suspicion—she mustered a smile for Simone. “Of course, love bug.”

Y/n swept Simone up into her arms and sat her on her lap. The two year old watched the screen, eyes never leaving it until the commercial break. She clapped and smiled and pointed, reaching her little arms out as if Harry could push through the screen and grab her.

“See Daddy now?” Simone asked, confused as to why she couldn’t see him anymore.

“Soon, baby,” Y/n responded.

And almost like he could sense them talking about him, Y/n’s phone pinged with a new message.

him <3: be back in twenty minutes!

Y/n knew it wasn’t his fault, and she knew that none of what he admitted to was true, but she couldn’t shake her doubts like she normally could. So she gave him a simple “ok” and turned her phone over. She looked down at Simone, who she could always rely on to cheer her up.

Her daughter’s face was the perfect mix of her and Harry. She had Y/n’s nose and Harry’s wide green eyes, her pouty lips and his deep dimples. She was too cute not to smile at, Y/n often found. Harry traveled the world, but hers was right here in her arms.

“How about some room service? You want chicken nuggets, bug?”

Simone nodded enthusiastically, and Y/n put the order in soon after.

When Harry came back to the hotel room, his bandmates followed, bringing all their usual noise and chaos. Some days Y/n would kick them out because she was trying to put Simone down for a nap, but the little one was still happily munching on cut up pieces of chicken, so she didn’t mind as much.

“Little Styles!”

Harry, Louis, Liam, and Niall all came into the room, crowding around Simone’s high chair. Simone smiled up at the boys, but it was her dad she reached for. He quickly took her out of the high chair so he could pick her up so the boys could play with her, and Y/n saw that as an opportunity to step away. She wasn’t sure if Harry knew she was upset, but she didn’t know if she could fake being fine either way. So while everyone fawned over Simone, Y/n slipped into the bathroom.

Her and Simone’s hotel room was standard—two full beds next to each other, one bath, a TV mounted on the wall, a small desk. Harry had a suite a few floors above them to not raise any questions as to why he would need a high chair or anything remotely baby related sent up to his room. As far as the hotel was concerned, Y/n and Simone were guests completely separate from Harry Styles and the rest of One Direction.

That notion squeezed Y/n’s heart uncomfortably too. She didn’t need to be in a suite or anything fancy like that, but she hated the way Harry’s management treated her and Simone. They couldn’t go to his shows, or they could, but Y/n couldn’t hold Simone so as not to raise suspicion about a young mother backstage at a One Direction concert. Any time spent together as a family was inside a hotel room—hers, never his. And absolutely no dates or staying the night.

Things hadn’t always been like this, but Harry explained that after Zayn left, the leash had been tightened on all the boys. There would be no room for error on anyone’s part, especially nothing as big as a baby scandal.

Y/n never said it to Harry, but sometimes she was selfishly grateful for the hiatus One Direction were taking soon. She didn’t want to announce to the world that she was Harry’s long-time girlfriend and mother of his two year old daughter, but she just didn’t want to feel suffocated like this anymore, or feel like there were people on Harry’s team who despised her and Simone for just existing.

Tears were on Y/n’s cheeks before she even realized it, the pinch of cold on the tracks they left behind being the only indication. She hastily wiped them away, knowing Harry or one of the boys would eventually notice her absence and come looking for her. Once she felt like she’d composed herself, she unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out. Liam, Louis and Niall were on their way to the door when she shuffled out of the bathroom, all of them awarding her with big hugs and warm smiles.

“You okay?” Louis asked quietly so no one but Y/n could hear him.

She nodded wordlessly, but he gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder and a tender smile before leaving the room with the other two boys. Of all the boys—besides Harry, of course—she’d become the closest to Louis.

The door clicked shut, and there was silence. Walking down the short hall, she reached the main space of the hotel room to find Simone back in her high chair and Harry feeding her. Y/n’s body filled with warmth at the sight, making her almost forget about all the things she’d felt the last couple hours.

She hadn’t made much noise, but Harry looked over to where she was standing. “Hey. Everything alright?”

“No, not really, but I don’t want to talk about it in front of her,” Y/n said with a smile.

“Do you want me to ask one of the boys to watch her while we talk in my room?”

She couldn’t keep the bite out of her voice as she replied, “I didn’t realize I was allowed to be in your room.”

Harry sighed and rubbed a tired hand over his face. He’d grown up so much since Y/n first met him, and yet he still looked so young. If she didn’t know him, she would never guess he was a dad, and she suspected Harry would say the same.

She wondered what life would’ve been like for the both of them if they’d never met, if they hadn’t been so careless one night. This life was difficult at times, and frustrating at others, but Y/n would put up with all of this again if it meant having Simone, but she did wonder.

“Of course you are,” Harry said, but he didn’t sound sure. Because the truth was he didn’t actually know if Y/n was allowed to be in his suite. Sometimes she thought Harry’s management worried that leaving the two of them alone for too long would result in another pregnancy, but no one ever said that was the reason, of course. “Y/n, can we please talk—”

“I—I think I just need some air. Can you watch her for a little?” she ended up saying.

Y/n could tell that Harry wanted to talk about whatever it was that was bothering her, but he didn’t try to stop her. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

“Text me if you need anything,” was all she said before she left.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Harry knew he was in hot water, he just couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

The comment about being allowed into his hotel suite gave him a pretty good idea, but it seemed like it was more than that. He knew that Y/n put up with a lot, that being holed up with a two year old like this all the time wasn’t easy, but usually they were able to talk through their issues and come to a resolution together. But Y/n seemed so distant before she left. It made Harry incredibly nervous.

He loved Y/n with every fiber of his being. She was his best friend and greatest confidant, she supported him and cheered him on as he achieved so much, and was there for him whenever it all became too much. She was the first person he told about Zayn leaving, had listened to him rant and complain and try to make sense of one of his closest friends keeping such deep struggles a secret. She was everything to him, he just hoped she knew that.

“More please.”

Harry’s thundercloud of thoughts cleared for Simone, his mouth immediately forming a smile. “More?” he asked, pretending to be astounded. “You want more?”

Simone nodded, the curls on her forehead bouncing with the movement. Harry was going to cut up another piece of chicken for her anyway, but that smile would’ve sealed the deal.

When she was done eating, Harry took her out of the high chair and set her on the floor to play with some of her toys. He kept a watchful eye, knowing there was plenty of things in the hotel room a toddler could get into but shouldn’t. But she just sat on the floor and played with her plastic magnets, stacking them together and making new shapes. Harry sat with her, marveling at her creations when she showed them off and helping her build a tower just to knock them down.

Y/n found them sitting together when she came back to the room, feeling a little better than she had when she left. Harry didn’t say anything as she sat down next to him, though a wave of relief washed over him when she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Sometimes I just wish it was all over now and we didn’t have to deal with all of this, you know?” she breathed, watching Simone play with her toys.

“I’m sorry,” he said, knowing there wasn’t much else he could say. A lot of her stress was because of him.

Despite her best efforts, she sniffled. “I just hate the constant rumors and people thinking you’re available to be hit on or flirted with. And I know you would never cheat on me. I know that, but sometimes when it’s constantly in my face I can’t help but…” Y/n didn’t finish that thought, they both knew what she wasn’t saying. “And when it’s all over, I don’t even get the comfort of you holding me at night because—because—”

Harry did his best to hold her despite the angle they were sitting at. At first he was hurt at the implication that she thought he would ever cheat on her, but he wasn’t quite sure how he would handle everything if the roles were reversed. The fact that she was still here, still talking to him, meant more than words could describe.

“I—I’m yours, Y/n,” he said softly, but not without conviction. “Nothing matters to me more than what’s in this room. You and Simone have my heart.”

“I know,” she said, like she actually believed it. “It just feels like the world is against us sometimes.”

Harry knew “the world” was a stand-in for his management. They made their lives exponentially more difficult emotionally, but there wasn’t much he could do. Even during the hiatus, Harry would still be contracted with them, forced to play by their rules and hide Y/n and Simone away like they were something to be ashamed of.

“I’m gonna stay here tonight,” Harry finally said.

“Are you sure?” Y/n asked, knowing he’d get in a lot of trouble for risking exposure. Even if all management had to do was make people sign an NDA, they never wanted to take that chance. Y/n often supposed that their vigilance was something to appreciate, but she also thought their methods could be harsh.

“Yeah. I’ve missed having you in my arms too.”

She took her head off his shoulders then, their faces close enough that their noses were touching. Y/n nudged his with hers until he leaned in for a kiss. It was soft, nothing too intense while their two year old was playing right in front of them.

Later that night when Simone was fast asleep, Harry and Y/n stayed up, talking about everything and nothing. They both missed the intimacy of late night chats in bed, and though Harry had to be up early tomorrow morning, he made no attempts to go to sleep.

“Let’s go somewhere,” he whispered, thumbs caressing her bare shoulder.

He was talking like he could do whatever he wanted and go anywhere he wanted at the drop of a hat, but Y/n didn’t pop the bubble. She didn’t want to.

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere no one will find us. Somewhere no one knows who I am.”

“Might be a hard place to find,” she mused, playing with the rings on his finger.

She admired each one on his hand, pausing at the one on his ring finger. Her own was bare, there was no way they would ever be allowed to get engaged. But it was something she thought about amidst her busy life as a mom. Y/n often went back and forth between letting the world know that Harry was hers and hers only, as he’d promised, and keeping their love to themselves. Today was a shout it from the rooftops kind of day.

“I want it too,” Harry said, his eyes having tracked her gaze to where her bare finger lay tangled with his. They were young, sure, but they’d been through a lot together the last few years. He wanted her as badly as the day they first met, and if that wasn’t a sign that he was meant to be with her forever, he didn’t know what was.

Y/n turned so that she was facing him. Her eyes were heavy like they were fighting off sleep, but she kept them open. His long hair was splayed across the pillow, tangled from where her hands had rucked it up earlier. Harry, for whatever reason, had decided he wanted to grow it out. Y/n didn’t mind, though, she thought it made him even more irresistible. And the way Simone held a strand of it in her little fist whenever he held her was absolutely adorable.

“Want what?” she asked, even though she knew.

Harry leaned forward. Their lips touched, but he wouldn’t kiss her. Instead he mumbled, “To make you my wife. To let anyone who’s ever looked twice know that you have a husband.”

His words made her shiver. Harry’s jealousy didn’t show itself very often because they couldn’t be seen in public together. But he wasn’t an idiot. Y/n was breathtaking when they met, and she was even more so now. He could only imagine how many times people tried to flirt with her when he was away. Just the thought lit a spark of jealousy in him.

Y/n ran a hand through his hair. “Good to know we’re still wildly possessive of each other.”

Harry chuckled and kissed the spot just above her brow. “Always will be.”

She kissed him, leaving him no time to react before pushing her tongue past the seam of his lips. Harry groaned appreciatively, the low rumble making her toes curl. Y/n relished every movement, every stroke of his tongue against hers, each inch of her skin he claimed with his hand.

They were as quiet as they could be, aware of their daughter in her crib just a few paces away. A mouth on the shoulder to muffle, slow movements that didn’t have them breathing heavily but still sent them reeling, kisses that swallowed any noises that wanted to escape. By the end of it, they were littered with love bites and completely spent.

Y/n rested her head against Harry’s chest, her hand resting on his stomach as her thumb caressed the soft skin there. He worked out quite often and was in great shape, but she loved that he had a little bit of a belly.

“What would the world think if they knew Harry Styles had a dad bod?” Y/n murmured, giving him a soft pinch.

“Hey,” Harry replied, but wasn’t actually offended. “You love this body.”

“I do.”

Tipping her head up, she kissed him, sighing against the comfortable slide of his lips against hers. She was about to rest her head back on his chest when there was movement from the crib and a soft cry.

Shimmying into a pair of pants, Harry went over to the crib and picked up Simone. “Just this once,” he said, laying her down between him and Y/n, who didn’t hesitate to take her into her arms. In seconds, Simone was fast asleep, her cheek squished up against Y/n’s shoulder.

“Perfect,” she heard Harry whisper before his arm snaked over Y/n’s waist. Simone’s hand subconsciously reached for Harry, latching onto his hair. He kissed her cheek once before resting his head on his pillow once more before falling asleep, savoring the peace he felt of sleeping with his family in his arms.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles angst

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3

Summary: A series of mishaps has you and Eddie (and Grandma and Harris) in the same place at the same time, leading Eddie to let his guard down a bit. That is, until a secret is spilled.

Warnings: angst, Eddie is really mean to Reader, injuries (nothing bloody or gory), mostly set in a hospital, mentions of Eddie's dad, mentions of CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's, slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 6k

Chapter 3/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

“Har-Bear?” Eddie calls out from the bedroom, pinning his nametag to his shirt. “You tie your sneakers yet?” His son had insisted that he didn’t need help with the laces, that he could do it on his own, but he’d be late for work if he waited any longer.

“Not…yet!” the tiny voice yells back, and Eddie can sense the frustration in his voice. “I think they’re broken.”

“Broken, huh?” Eddie laughs to himself as he walks out to the living room, where Harris is sitting in front of the door. Sure enough, his shoelaces remain untied, and tears roll down his cheeks. “C’mere, bud. It’s okay. I can tie ‘em for you this time.”

Harris shakes his head, brown curls bouncing on his scalp. He mumbles something unintelligible, and when Eddie bends down to help him, he pushes his hands away.

“Harris, enough!” Eddie hisses through gritted teeth, taking the laces and tying them quickly. “You know that you have school and Daddy has work.”

“B-b-but I’m the only one!” Harris wails, kicking his shoes off defiantly. Eddie picks them up with one hand and scoops up his son in the other, tipping towards the couch and hooking his pinky around Harris’s little backpack. He doesn’t have any time to waste; shoes will have to be put on at school.

Maybe Ms. Sweetheart will have better luck with him, Eddie thinks wryly, wrangling a screaming Harris down the stairwell.

“The only one what?” Eddie asks once the crying starts to subside.

“I’m the only–sniff–one at school who–hic–can’t tie my shoes!”

Eddie wrinkles his nose as he places a shoe-less Harris in his carseat. “I’m sure there are other kids who are still learning how to tie their shoes.”

“Nuh-uh,” Harris protests, straining against the seatbelt. “All the other kids tie their own shoes, but Ms. Sweetheart or Mr. Will have to tie mine.”

Eddie’s heart sinks as he thinks of his son being the outcast as the freak, the rest of his friends flying past him as he gets left behind. “Tell ya what,” he says finally, mustering up a smile, “I’ll teach you, and you’ll be able to tie them in no time.”

His offer placates Harris, who spends the rest of the time singing along to the radio. Eddie wishes it could always be like this; happy and carefree, just driving and listening to his favorite metal station with his mini-me. Maybe one day it’ll happen, but the fleeting sense of hope disappears as quickly as it comes. His time with Harris might be limited if he doesn’t get his shit together.

The job was a start; he was lucky that the hours coincided with school drop-off and pick-up so he didn’t have to reach out to Wayne. He’d been working at Rock Records for about a week, and while it was a far cry from the stardom he’d once dreamed of, it was paying the bills and still allowed him to spend his time around music. And when his manager–a twenty-year-old named Ash who used her phone line to talk to friends rather than answer store calls–heard that he plays guitar, she’d all but insisted that he give lessons. If he could get Wayne to watch Harris a few days after school, that would be even more money in his pocket.

But, first, he actually has to start talking to his uncle again.

He pulls into the preschool parking lot, killing the engine and hopping out to help Harris from his carseat. When he opens Harris’s door, he immediately deflates.

“Harris, where is your jacket?” Eddie asks, heaving an exasperated sigh.

The little boy just shrugs. “I dunno. At home?” It’s not his fault; the chilly early October air just began settling in, and he’s not accustomed to including his jacket into his morning routine. A look of realization creases his brows, another tantrum on the horizon. “Now I won’t be able to go out for recess!”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie says reassuringly, shrugging off his own denim, patch-riddled jacket, “you can take mine.” It’s comically oversized on Harris’s tiny body, but the smile on his face is enough to distract Eddie from the chill settling on his own arms.

“Daddy, now I’m just like you!” Harris sticks out his tongue and makes the ‘rock-and-roll’ symbol with his pointer and pinky fingers, scrunching his big brown eyes shut.

Eddie laughs, taking his son’s hand as they cross the parking lot. The way he copies him is adorable, but there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach when he pictures Harris actually following in his footsteps.

As soon as he enters the school, Harris lets go of his father’s hand and bounds into the classroom, the jacket dragging on the ground like a regal cloak. “Ms. Sweetheart, look at my jacket!” he proudly announces, twirling around on one leg. “It’s my daddy’s!”

You smile, crossing your arms over your chest as you shake your head teasingly. “Harris, is daddy wearing your jacket?”

“Nooooo,” he says, jutting out his chin and giggling. “It’s too small, silly!”

Eddie shuffles in behind him; after a month of drop-offs, he’s realized that he’s never going to win the battle of getting Harris to walk beside him in the hallway. “Don’t forget your backpack, little dude,” he reminds him, handing him his bag and motioning towards the row of cubbies.

Nodding, Harris hangs it up on the hook, along with Eddie’s jacket. He starts to run towards the toy area, stopping when he hears you call out, “Harris…”

“Huh? Oh, right.” He flashes that innocent smile, slowing his pace to a walk.

You shake your head knowingly, grabbing the clipboard with the sign-in sheet from your desk. Wordlessly, you give it to Eddie, who takes it with a sigh. This is how it goes most mornings: he drops off Harris, scribbles his signature, and stalks off without so much as a “good morning.” It’s not ideal, but it’s better than the barrage of insults and snide comments that he seemed to prefer to greet you with.

He drops the clipboard on top of the cubbies with a clatter, turning to the door, but the sound of a child shrieking stops him in his tracks before he can leave.

“Harris, no!”

Eddie’s stomach turns at the way the little girl angrily shouts his son’s name. Harris is frozen in place, holding a weird contraption that Eddie doesn’t recognize. The boy’s lower lip trembles, and all Eddie wants to do is pick him up and yell at the other kid for making him cry, but you get to the scene first.

“Abby, Harris, what happened?” you ask, crouching down to their eye-level. There’s no accusations, just a soothing tone to de-escalate the situation.

“He took my Bop-It!” Abby pouts, stamping her foot in frustration. “He stole it from me!”

Eddie feels his fists clench involuntarily at the word stole. Harris would never steal. He was a good kid, and having the Munson name didn’t automatically make him a thief. He tries to send a telepathic message to Harris, willing him to stand up for himself, but it doesn’t work.

You eye the toy in Harris’s hand–the Bop-It in question, you assume–and meet his shy gaze. “Did you take Abby’s toy?” Again, your voice is free of judgment, and Eddie allows himself to relax ever-so slightly when you don’t automatically take the girl’s side.

“I just wanted to see it real quick!” Harris mumbles, shoulders slumping. “I was gonna give it back.”

“What should you do when someone has something that you want to see?” you prompt him gently, feeling Eddie’s eyes scrutinizing you, analyzing your every move you make to see how you’re treating his son.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, eyes wide and misty.

“You have to ask them and then wait for them to say yes,” you say, and he nods as you swivel to face Abby Carver. “Abby, if someone forgets to ask to see your toy, you can remind them nicely. With an inside voice.”

“But he didn’t even say sorry for stealing!” she whines.

“It was an accident,” Harris rebuts, scrunching up his nose, “an’ I didn’t steal it!”

Breathing out a soft sigh, you turn back to him to end the argument before it can really start. Hell hath no fury like a preschooler scorned. “Saying ‘sorry’ is important, even when we accidentally make someone feel sad or mad,” you tell him.

“‘M sorry, Abby,” he says, handing her back the Bop-It. You can’t help but notice the way that he tucks his free hand into the pocket of his jeans, just like Eddie does when he’s anxious.

“It’s okay, Harris,” Abby says flatly, eager to flounce off to her friends and show them her toy, as Harris quietly joins some of the other boys to play with building blocks.

You press on your knees and stand up, finally allowing yourself to glance over at Eddie. He gives a tiny nod of acknowledgment; so subtle that you would’ve missed it if you’d blinked. You’re not exactly sure what it means–thanks or good job or simply I’ll be back for pick-up–but he’s out the door before you can think about it further.

You really should have seen it coming. Should’ve listened to the proverbial alarm bells ringing when you’d heard the shower running. But you were exhausted from a long day at work; the Bop-It situation having kicked off a series of arguments between various groups of kids. At one point, you and Will had given up on storytime and basically played referee, just trying to keep the peace between tiny feuding humans.

You’re scraping the last bits of unfinished mashed potatoes into the garbage when you hear the crash. There’s a clatter of bottles and the pop pop pop of the shower curtain ripping off of its rings. Your blood runs cold and you nearly drop the plate you’re holding, palms suddenly slick with sweat.

“Grandma?” Your voice catches in your throat, a hoarse whisper, and you clear it and try again as you fly towards the bathroom. “Grandma?!”

There’s no answer; between the steady pounding of the shower and her own declining hearing, you expected just as much. You push open the door that she thankfully left unlocked to find her laying in the tub, tears mixing with the stream of water. She cradles her left wrist in her right hand, mumbling inaudibly to herself between heaving sobs.

“Grandma, what happened?” you ask, leaning over to finagle the knob to the “OFF” position.

She looks up as if she’s just realized you’re standing there, too disoriented and focused on the pain to take in any of her surroundings. “I fell.”

You reach for the powder blue towel hanging on the back of the bathroom door and pluck it off of its hook. “Here,” you say, draping it over her shoulders, “let me cover you and I’ll help you up.” It seems absurd to worry about modesty, given the urgency of the situation, but you can tell based on her sheepish demeanor that the small part of her that still feels shame is pinging in her brain. You tuck your hands under her arms, lifting with your knees and hoisting her to her feet. “Grab the bar,” you instruct her, nodding your head towards the silver safety bar lining the shower wall.

“Can I dry you off?” She gives a small nod, letting go to hold her swelling wrist. “Keep holding onto the bar. I don’t want you to slip and fall again.”

“But it hurts,” she whimpers, and you know this will be a losing battle. Even if she does agree to grab onto it again, she’ll almost certainly forget, and you'll have to start the whole process over. Instead, you carefully run the towel over her, watching as the cloth soaks up droplets and trying not to think about how backwards this all seems. There was a time where she was the one drying you off, lifting you out of your little bath seat in the kitchen sink and cooing at her beloved baby granddaughter, hope and joy filling her eyes. A time where life seemed limitless, and maybe she’d started to slow down, but she’d sworn that she’d always remember this moment. She couldn’t even imagine forgetting you.

Grabbing the pile of clothes from their spot on the tiled floor, you find her shirt and offer it to her. “I can help you put it on,” you tell her, toeing the line of preventing another fall and respecting her dignity.

Grandma’s lips curl into a frown and she shakes her head. “Those are dirty,” she protests.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to grasp onto the last bit of patience you have left. The words, You didn’t even go anywhere today rests on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down, force a smile, and say, “Okay. Let’s get you to your bed so you can sit down, and we’ll pick out new ones.”

She reluctantly agrees to this, and you slowly walk her to the bedroom and grab the first of everything you can find. A fuschia t-shirt and green sweatpants might not be her best look, but you’re not trying to style her for a runway show. After sliding her fluffy pink slippers over her feet, you help her up and guide her to the door, where she stops in her tracks.

“Can’t wear these outside,” she says simply, pointing to the slippers.

“It’s okay,” you reassure her, grabbing your keys from the small table tucked in the corner. “You can wear them outside this time.”

She doesn’t budge. “No, I need my other ones.” Her gaze lands on the pair of white Reeboks resting on the shoe rack. She starts to lean over to take them, but she’s still unsteady on her feet, and you wrap your arm around her torso before she can wobble.

“Just…just sit,” you mutter, feeling anger rise in your chest like a thundercloud. It wasn’t her fault that she was being stubborn, but it didn’t quell the burning frustration. You toss her rejected footwear to the side, silently reminding yourself to pick it up later, and shimmy her feet into the sneakers. You tie the laces into a double knot, pulling nice and tight, determined to keep it from unraveling.

Eddie’s day at work wasn’t much better than yours. After dropping Harris off at school, his first customer had been a middle-aged woman who claimed that a record had been scratched when she’d bought it a few weeks ago, insisting that Eddie had sold it to her that way. Which could have been the case, except he’d only started the job earlier that week.

All he wants now is a nice cold beer, but he has to wait until Harris goes to sleep. Years of watching his own father guzzle down Johnnie Walker until he fell into a drunken stupor led him to promise never to drink in front of his son.

“Bedtime, buddy!” he announces. He doesn’t even have to pretend to be excited; the second Harris dozes off, he’s going to crack open that Coors Light and watch the most mind-numbing show on TV.

Harris throws his head back in exasperation. “But Daaaaadyyyy, I’m not even tired!” His whine pierces Eddie’s eardrum, making him grimace.

“It’s 7:30, and it’s a school night,” he tells him, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “But tomorrow is Friday, so you can stay up a little later then.” He walks over to the tiny dresser pushed up against the wall, pulling out the bottom drawer and taking out a pair of dinosaur-print pajamas. “C’mon, let’s go. Pajamas, pee, and brush those teeth.”

“I’m…not…tired!” Harris screams at the top of his lungs. His cheeks flush beet-red, and spit gathers at the corners of his mouth.

Eddie clenches his fist around the pajamas, feeling his fingernails dig into the soft cotton. He inhales for three, then exhales for three, feeling the oxygen flow through his lungs. “Harris,” he manages through gritted teeth, “I’m going to count to five. And when I’m done, I want you doing your bedtime routine, or you’ll go to bed early tomorrow.” He takes one more deep breath, getting to two before Harris angrily snatches the pajamas from his grip and stomps off to the bathroom.

The boy only brushes his teeth for a grand total of ten seconds, but Eddie doesn’t have the stamina to argue about oral hygiene tonight. Tucking Harris into bed, he leans in to kiss him on the forehead, but he’s met with the back of his head.

Logically, he knows that there will come a time where Harris won’t want a kiss good night, won’t need his dad to help him into bed. Eddie just hadn’t planned on it being tonight.

“I hate you.” Harris’s voice is muffled from his lips being smushed into the pillow, but Eddie received the message loud and clear. It reverberates in his brain like an echo in a tunnel: I hate you I hate you I hate you.

Eddie backs out of the room slowly, flicking off the light and closing the door. He forgoes the shitty TV and sits in silence as he sips on his beer, letting the bitterness seep into his tongue before he swallows.

The venom in Harris’s voice was unmistakable. Eddie knew all too well how it felt to hate a parent. That raw anger swelled within him each time his father got them thrown out of another apartment, or conveniently forgot to pick up groceries (but always managed to remember his booze and drugs), or put his hands on Eddie.

My son hates me, Eddie thinks, taking a last swig of his drink and absentmindedly wiping the foam from his lips. I’m a shit dad, and my son hates me.

He’s too wrapped up in his own thoughts, leaving the sound of squeaking bed springs unnoticed until a loud thud followed immediately by the sound of Harris’s distraught wail snaps him to attention.

“Daddy!” Harris cries out, and Eddie’s sprinting to the bedroom before he can even finish the second syllable.

“What happened?” His voice is louder than he intends from the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and it only makes Harris cry harder. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad,” he says, softening his tone as he flicks on the light. His eyes widen when he sees the way his son’s arm is twisted.

“I couldn’t—sniffle—sleep, s-so I—sniffle—t-tried to j-jump my awake out,” Harris explains through hiccuping sobs. “An’ I h-hurted—sniffle—my arm.”

“C’mere, sshh, ‘s okay.” Eddie reassures him as he scoops him up, carefully avoiding his injury. “We gotta get you to the hospital so the doctors can fix it.”

Harris’s lower lip trembles again. “Are th-they gonna g-give me a sh-shot?”

“Nah, they’ll just have to do an x-ray,” he says, grimacing when he thinks of how much it’ll cost, even after Medicaid kicks in. “But those don’t hurt.”

Harris gives a tiny nod, still ambivalent as he nestles his head into the crook of his father’s neck. His curls tickle Eddie, who presses a kiss to the boy’s forehead and murmurs, “Daddy’s here, okay? I got you.” He feels Harris’s uninjured hand grab onto him a bit tighter as he brings him to the car.

“Can we go home now?”

You breathe out an exasperated sigh, leaning back in the chair and bouncing your leg anxiously. Hawkins General Hospital wasn’t crowded, and you and Grandma were taken to a room fairly quickly, but it still isn’t fast enough for an elderly woman who has no idea why she’s here.

“We have to wait a little longer for the doctor to see us,” you explain for the fourth time in as many minutes. “They have to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” Your answer seems to placate her, at least until she asks again within the next sixty seconds, as she hums her acknowledgment.

There’a a soft knock on the door, and a perky blonde nurse pokes her head in the room as soon as you give her permission to enter. “Hi, I’m Chrissy; I’ll be your nurse,” she says, looking at your grandmother. “What brings you in to see us tonight?”

“I’m just here with her,” Grandma shrugs, pointing to you.

“She slipped and fell in the shower,” you explain patiently. “I know she hurt her wrist, but I’m not sure if she hit her head, and she has Alzheimer’s…” You glance at her uneasily. “She doesn’t even remember falling.”

Chrissy nods understandingly, offering a sympathetic smile as she makes a note on her chart. “I can take you in for an x-ray of your wrist, and then we’ll run some tests to rule out a head injury as best as we can, okay, Mrs…” Her gaze shifts back to the chart before she brings her attention back to you. “Do you teach at Hawkins Preschool, by any chance?”

“Guilty as charged,” you give the best semblance of a laugh you can muster.

“I recognized your last name,” she says as she helps Grandma off of the examination table. “My daughter is in your class. Abigail Carver? She absolutely adores you.”

The compliment buzzes in your chest as your smile becomes more genuine. “Well, thank you. That means a lot. And she’s a great kid, too.” Except when she’s screeching at her friends, you think, but you keep that tidbit to yourself.

“I work nights, so my husband handles the school stuff,” Chrissy explains. “But I’m glad we finally got to meet, even if it’s under these circumstances.”

She hooks her arm through Grandma’s, who promptly shakes her off. “Let go of me!” the older woman snarls, shuffling back towards you. She may not know exactly who you are, but there’s at least a level of familiarity that brings her some comfort.

“I’ll walk with you,” you offer, and Chrissy agrees gratefully as the three of you gradually make your way down the starch-white hallway.

Unbeknownst to you, in a room just across the hall, Harris Munson is showing his dad how he can hop up and down on one leg without losing his balance.

Jesus H. Christ; does this kid ever run out of energy? Eddie silently wonders, but he plasters a smile on his face. “That’s really cool, Har-Bear. Just, uh, sit down before you hurt yourself even more.”

Harris is about to pout when a nurse enters the room. She’s probably in her mid-fifties, Eddie surmises, with brown hair that’s streaked gray and pulled back in a low bun.

“Harris Munson?” she asks shortly, and Eddie points to the little jumping bean standing next to him. “Come with me to the x-ray room.” She doesn’t offer her name, but Eddie catches a glimpse of the badge on her scrubs pocket that reads “Anna.”

Anna has Harris place his arm on the table, gingerly moving it to take x-rays from different angles. Standing in the doorway, Eddie winces at the tiny yelps his son lets out with each minimal adjustment. “You’re hurting him,” he manages through a bone-dry throat.

“If there is a break or sprain, we need to ensure that we find it,” she explains impatiently, retreating back to the room where she snaps a few more images before bringing them back to the room.

“Dad?”

“Mhm?”

“I’m sleepy now.” Harris punctuates his statement with a yawn, laying back on the examination table and dozing off just moments later.

Eddie takes his jacket–the same one that Harris wore at school that day–and places it over the boy’s sleeping body in a makeshift blanket. By the time the radiologist comes in to deliver the results, Eddie’s struggling to keep his own eyes open.

“How’re we doing in here?” she says, watching as Harris stirs, stretches his little legs, and promptly falls asleep again. “Is it past someone’s bedtime?”

“His and mine,” Eddie grumbles, wiping the sleep from his eyes and sitting up straighter. There’s a pinch in his lower back from slouching in the uncomfortable chair, and he grimaces as he tries to massage the sore spot.

“Well, you’ll be out of here soon. It looks like Harris did break his wrist, so we’ll need to get a cast on it, but we can discharge him as soon as it’s done.”

“Brilliant.” Eddie presses on his knees as he stands up to gently shake his son awake. “Hey, bud. It’s time to wake up so you can get a super cool cast.”

“Mmph,” Harris grunts, throwing his good arm over his eyes dramatically.

Eddie just laughs, not catching the concerned look on the doctor’s face as she flips through Harris’s chart. “C’mon, I’ll carry you, but you gotta help me out here.” Harris begrudgingly complies, wrapping his legs around Eddie’s waist and holding onto him as tightly as he can.

“It’ll only take about fifteen minutes,” the doctor explains, rubbing Harris’s back for good measure. “You can drop him off in this room, Mr. Munson. One of our nurses needs to speak with you.”

He doesn’t like the look on her face; the one that simultaneously gives away nothing and too much. Her lips press together in a thin smile, one that’s obviously forced, as an orthopedic technician guides Eddie into the next room.

The unfriendly nurse from earlier, Anna, is waiting for him outside the door.

“Mr. Munson, could I speak to you privately?” Eddie nods wordlessly, traipsing behind her back to the room where Harris had just been sleeping.

“Mr. Munson,” Anna begins, and Eddie swears he’ll punch a hole through the hospital’s wall if she keeps speaking in that condescending tone, “as you know, ensuring the safety and wellbeing of our patients, particularly our pediatric ones, is our top priority here at Hawkins General.” She pauses, as though he’s supposed to have some response to that, but he remains silent. “Given the nature of your son’s injury, coupled with the report that a nurse smelled alcohol on your breath when you entered our facility, we have to report this incident to Child Protective Services.”

Eddie’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head; his fists clench involuntarily, and he has to remind himself to steady his breathing. In for three, out for three. “There–there must be some mistake,” he stammers. “I had one beer after Harris went to bed–well, he was supposed to be in bed–and I was well under the legal limit when I brought him here.”

Anna cocks her head, and rage surges through Eddie’s bloodstream at her subtle gesture of disbelief. He didn’t even drink when his son was awake, let alone drive drunk. And the thought of him hurting Harris, whether under the influence of alcohol or not, was enough to turn his stomach. For fuck’s sake, he felt guilty if he accidentally stepped on the kid’s toes.

“Be that as it may,” the nurse continues, and Eddie swears she’s trying to suppress an eyeroll, “I also see that there was a previous report from 1992–”

“When he was born?” Eddie sputters. “That–that had nothing to do with me. His mom…”

Anna glances back down at Harris’s chart and frowns. “It looks like both you and Harris’s mother were listed in that report.” She looks up at Eddie again. “This is out of our hands now. CPS will take over from here and determine the next steps to take.” With that, she walks away, leaving Eddie leaning against the door with tears in his eyes.

All he can think about are the custody papers Wayne gave him. The way he’d angrily torn them up, taking them as a threat, rather than an offer to help. The way he’d blamed Wayne for his life going to shit.

I hate you, Harris had said earlier that evening.

Maybe Wayne was right. Maybe Harris was better off without his dad around to fuck up everything in his path.

You’re waiting at the front desk for Grandma’s discharge papers when you hear an excited voice call out your name; rather, his nickname for you.

“Ms. Sweetheart!”

You turn around to see Harris Munson running towards you, sporting a bright orange cast on his wrist. “What happened to you?” you ask with a smile–a genuine one, this time. That little boy always manages to cheer you up.

“I was trying to jump my awake out and I breaked my wrist,” he says. “So then my daddy taked me here and I got this cast. See?” He holds out his arm two inches from your eyes, as though the neon color wasn’t already a dead giveaway.

“That is the coolest cast I’ve ever seen,” you tell him. “I broke my leg once, and I just got a boring white one.” You pout your lips exaggeratedly, making Harris laugh. “I bet all the kids in school will wanna sign it tomorrow.”

Harris breaks out into a giant grin. “They can sign it?”

“Sure can!”

He thinks for a moment and asks, “Will you sign my cast, Ms. Sweetheart?” He looks up at you with those soft brown eyes, and you feel yourself start to melt.

Before you can answer him, your Grandma speaks up. “I’m leaving,” she declares, already trying to take off the sling that the nurse gave her for her sprained wrist.

“I just need to sign you out, Grandma,” you explain. “And remember, you need to keep the sling on so your wrist can heal.”

“Fuck you, bitch,” she hisses. “I hate you.”

Your face heats up, embarrassed at her outburst and at the fact that it happened in front of a student and his parent. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, though you’re unsure if you’re apologizing more to Eddie or to Harris. “She has Alzheimer’s…she doesn’t know…”

You expect Eddie to laugh at your misfortune, but when your eyes flicker to his face, you only see sympathy.

“‘S okay,” he says softly, putting a ringed hand on Harris’s shoulder. “I feel like swearing, too, after the night we’ve had.”

You offer a weak smile, still processing the unfamiliar kindness that he’s showing. “Thanks,” you manage, just as the receptionist hands you the discharge paperwork. “I’ll see you both at school tomorrow?”

“And you can sign my cast!” Harris exclaims, flashing a toothy grin. “Promise?”

“Promise.” You ruffle his hair, leading Grandma out to the car before she can conjure up another slew of swear words.

Eddie wakes up the next morning still exhausted. He rolls over, catching a glimpse of Harris still sleeping soundly in his racecar bed. He’s tempted to let him sleep in a bit, maybe take the day off from school, but he knows how badly he wants Ms. Sweetheart to sign his cast.

Ms. Sweetheart.

He’d been thinking about you all night. The way your calm, confident demeanor had faltered when your grandma cursed at you and said she hated you. The way you caved in a bit, as though her words had punctured you.

You hadn’t reacted like that when Eddie called you a bitch; you’d simply carried on as though the words meant nothing to you.

Because they did mean nothing to you. Because he meant nothing to you. He was just another drop in the douchebag bucket, and once you’d gotten over the initial sting of rejection, you’d moved on. And so had he.

Right?

He tries to shake these thoughts from his mind as he gets Harris ready for school, but it’s nearly impossible when all the kid can talk about is how he saw Ms. Sweetheart at the hospital and how she’s going to sign his cast today.

“She’s the bestest teacher I’ve ever had,” Harris tells Eddie, shoving a spoonful of Cheerios into his mouth.

“She’s the only teacher you’ve ever had, buddy,” Eddie reminds him, but Harris remains unfazed.

Sure enough, you’re waiting outside the classroom door, black Sharpie in hand. Harris’s eyes light up when he spots you.

“Ms. Sweetheart! You remembered!”

“Of course I remembered,” you say, uncapping the marker and crouching down to his level. Both Eddie and Harris watch intently as you write your signature, complete with a little heart.

Ms. Sweetheart ♡

“Go ahead and unpack,” you tell Harris. “Once you finish your morning routine, we can have your friends sign it, too.”

“Okay!” He starts to run, but crawls to a stop. “Gotta use my walking feet in the classroom.”

You give him a thumbs-up, turning back to hand Eddie the sign-in sheet.

“I’ll be damned,” he chuckles, shaking his head incredulously. “I’ve been trying to get that kid to slow down since he learned how to run. Swear to God, he skipped right over the ‘walking’ stage and went straight to sprinting.”

You laugh at his remark, taking the clipboard back from him. “Try the walking feet trick. I’ll let you borrow it, free of charge.”

“Much appreciated.” He starts to leave, but stops before he can fully turn his back to you. “How’s your grandma, by the way?”

His kind gesture catches you off-guard, but you recover quickly. “Already giving me a hard time about the sling, but that’s the home health aid’s problem until I get back.”

Eddie steps forward, awkwardly resting his hand on your upper arm for just a second. He’s not exactly sure what he’s doing, or why, but it felt like the right move. “Well, uh, good luck. With the whole ‘sling’ fiasco.”

“I’ll need it.”

He smiles, and you easily return it. It’s an olive branch, one that you eagerly reach out and take. It’s not much, but it’s more than he’s ever given you.

Eddie’s walking back down the hallway, feeling as though a weight has been lifted off of his overburdened shoulders, when he hears it:

“...reported to CPS. Apparently, this isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

No. No. There’s no way that they could be talking about him.

He rounds the corner towards the school lobby to see Carol Perkins talking to Steve Harrington, her hushed whisper not soft enough to prevent other people from hearing.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Yup,” Carol nods. “Something about when he was born? Like, how bad of a parent do you have to be to get reported to CPS as soon as your kid is born?”

Eddie feels the bile rise in his throat. His suspicions are further confirmed when she adds, “And get this–he was drinking when he brought Harris to the hospital. That’s why I’ll never let Frankie play at his house.”

There’s no way he can just walk past them and act like he hadn’t heard anything, so he decides to wait until they finish their conversation. They made him sound like some sort of neglectful alcoholic who disregards his son’s safety. They made him sound like his dad.

As Steve and Carol say their goodbyes, Eddie takes one last glance back towards the classroom. You’re cheerfully greeting an adoring student, ruffling her hair like you did to Harris at the hospital last night.

Eddie sucks in a quick breath. You were there last night. You were also in the orthopedic wing, as evidenced by your grandma’s injury. You had been humiliated in front of him for the second time; the first was when Eddie hadn’t called you after the one-night stand. And now you wanted revenge.

No wonder you were so friendly this morning. This whole time, you were just waiting for him to slip up. Waiting for him to have his moment of weakness. Now he knows better than to trust you. He won’t make that mistake again.

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alittletaste · 1 year

Text

THIRD TIME’S A CHARM

↳ In which Y/n and Harry have a whole day just to themselves and they couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than having sex. However, not everything works out how they want it to.

Warnings: 4.1k words (longest fic I’ve written! So please show some love and support) 18+ as there’s a lot of mention of smut. Dad!harry (ygmd universe) Enjoy 🫶

***

The January chill made it near impossible not to layer up. Y/n tugged a jacket onto Indi, his arms easily slipping in, a smile on his face as Harry worked on wrapping up their youngest, Stella with a scarf. The oldest two of the Styles clan, Jude and Beau, were already all wrapped up and warm, ready to go.

Schools were back on and the mornings were once again the busiest time of the day. The kiddos, now all nice and ready for school, were lined up by the front door. Y/n lays a soft kiss on each of their foreheads as Harry goes to grab his car keys off the hook. He walks back to y/n with a smile, “ready to go my little loves?” He asks the kids, before coming into drop a quick kiss onto y/ns lips, catching her off guard. He winks as he pulls away, y/n already feeling her face warm up.

Jude groans upon seeing the affection between his parents whilst the younger kids giggle. “Right, have a good day at school, my angels! Learn lots!” Y/n speaks, as she practically shoos Harry and the kids outside, if they weren’t gone within the next few minutes, they would be late and the last thing the parents needed was a telling-off from one of their kiddo's teachers.

An influx of “bye mum!” came from her kids as she makes her way back inside. Once she was alone in the house, she couldn’t help but replay the kisses Harry gave her this morning, it was obvious he was hinting at something. Especially since they finally get to spend a full day together. Gemma had decided on collecting the kids from school (and Stella from her nursery) so she could take them over to her place tonight and Harry had a day off. A full day together was something that hardly ever happened now that the couple had four of their own kids and whenever they did have one, the day was spent catching up on some much-needed sleep.

But this time, y/n didn’t want that. Y/n wanted. No, she craved her husband. She needed his touch, she felt as if she went way too long without it so today, she was set on changing that. She rushed to her bedroom, finding the lingerie she got gifted for Christmas from Harry and tugging it on.

The material of the lingerie was lace, the sheerness meant that nothing was left to the imagination and y/n knew Harry would be drooling once he saw her in it. Especially since the lingerie was in his favourite colour on her, black. She was the sight of seduction, a sight for sore eyes. Y/n actually felt confident in herself, and proud of her body, something she hadn’t felt since she’s given birth to Stella, two years ago, despite Harry trying his hardest to show her and convince her that she was and is the most beautiful woman to him.

Her thoughts are cut short as she hears a whistle come from the door of her bedroom, she looks up to find Harry leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his midsection. He shifts his weight back onto his feet once he realised he’s caught his wife’s attention, his eyes dark and scanning over her body. “This is a nice surprise” he hums as he makes his way over to y/n, biting his lips, “wow”

“You like?” Y/n asks, despite feeling confident, she still wanted his approval.

“Lookin’ fuckin’ gorgeous peach” he speaks, his voice rough with lust. His eyes were still scanning her body, hungrily. His hands going to grab at her hips. “Makin’ me so hard”

“Hmm, wanted you all morning” y/n replies, her hands dragging up and down Harry’s arms, she squeezes once she gets to his bicep. Despite being 38 and a dad with a full-time, sometimes demanding job, Harry kept up with his health /fitness regime; never skipping any gym sessions and always trying to eat healthy food though he definitely did have his cheat days. Harry was still fit and the sight of his beautiful body had people all around the world, screaming.

“Yeah? What did you want me to do, love?” He asks, guiding y/n back to their shared bed. He pushes her onto the mattress lightly before climbing on top, kissing her neck. “C’mon peach, don’t get all shy on me. Tell me what you want me to do” Harry asks again before going to suck and lick at her exposed skin again. He loved teasing her, getting her to speak and tell him what she wanted was one of the sexiest things for Harry. He loved knowing his wife wanted him to do all these things to her.

“I, I want you to fuck me” she whines, her hands tangling into his hair. She keeps Harry there, against her neck and he continues licking at the skin, dropping a kiss here and there. He didn’t want to suck too hard, scared of leaving a hickey which he knows y/n hates having to cover up.

“And how shall I fuck you?” Harry asks, pulling away breathlessly, he begins to trail his kisses down to y/ns chest, showing her barely covered breasts some love. His tongue was working skilfully on top of her lingerie, the wetness seeping through the material making y/n's eyes roll back.

“Want you to fuck me hard” she half moans as Harry continues to assault her breasts, the sounds of his mouth against her skin filling the room. “Like, like you used to before”

“I’ll do whatever you want baby” he smiles, a fuzzy look in his eyes as he pulls back and moves towards her lips. He was intoxicated with her, obsessed with everything about her. Obsessed with the fact that she was his wife, a woman he could call his own and share everything with, a woman who blessed him with four of their babies, a woman that was with him every step of the way.

Just as Harry’s lips met y/ns, he groaned “love when you scratch my back” he speaks, pulling back, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Harry, I didn’t scratch your back” y/n giggles, confused about what Harry’s on about. Upon hearing that, he quickly turns to look behind him, his hand coming down to press against the mattress unknowingly pulling y/n's hair in the process. They both scream however not from pleasure, more from agony if anything.

“Harry you’re on my hair!”

“Bella get out of the room!”

They both shout, Harry quickly pulls off her, reaching over to pick Bella, their cat, up as Y/n gathers her hair, rubbing at the sore spot on her head. Bella had been the one scratching Harry’s back.

“Bella, out!” Harry says sternly, but instead of moving, she leaves Harry’s grasp and finds herself a comfy place to sit on their bed. Just as Harry goes to grab her again, their dog, Oakley makes his way into the room, finding himself a spot to lie down on their carpet.

“Oakley, out boy” Harry speaks, pointing at the door so his pets catch on and leave but they stay sitting there nonchalantly, acting as if Harry and y/n do not exist.

“Harry, leave it, we can do this later” y/n speaks up from the bed, she was still massaging her head as Harry walks over to her with an annoyed look on his face.

“I love those pets to death but damn, they’re just as bad as our kids when it comes to cockblocking us” Harry laughs making y/n giggle as she moves to plant a kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry I pulled your hair, I didn’t realise,” he says against her lips as y/n sneaks her fingers into his hair, she scratches at his scalp lightly.

“Don’t worry babe, just caught me off guard is all” she replies, leaning in for another kiss. Just as they pull away the front door rings.

“Guess I’ll get that” Harry speaks, pressing a kiss onto y/ns forehead.

“I’ll go have a shower” his wife replies and he nods before leaving to get the front door which happens to be the postman dropping off some bits and bobs Harry ordered for the kid's bedrooms.

As he made his way back up, he decides he’ll carry on what he started earlier with y/n in the shower. He slips into the bathroom, making sure to lock the door this time so no unwanted guests showed up, he starts stripping before joining his wife under the hot stream of water.

“You love your boiling hot showers” he chuckles as he feels the scalding water glide down his back, his muscles and defined body looked extra good wet. Y/n licks her lips as she moves her hands up and down his body.

“Better than your ice baths” she replies and he growls playfully.

“Touché” Harry says, leaning towards y/ns ear, “guess what?” He whispers, his voice sending a pleasurable shiver down y/ns spine.

“What?” She asks breathlessly as she feels Harry’s hands trail up and down her naked body, stopping to squeeze one of her breasts before finding purchase on her ass and he groans, whimpering out a fuck.

“The doors locked. I can finally give you what you want” he replies to y/ns question in a playful whisper. “I’m going to fuck you so hard” he groans, his voice gravelly and dripping in lust. His eyes were dark and his cock was hardening as he spun y/n around, bending her over.

He angled the shower head to her ass, to where they’d soon be connected. Harry’s hands travel up and down her back, he leans down to press kisses to her shoulder “you good?” He asks and she nods, wanting nothing more but for him to enter her and fuck her stupid.

“Tell me you need my cock” he growls against her skin, his hands trailing down her back to spank her ass. The force of Harry’s hand against her ass sends y/n forward, making her squeal. He didn’t realise the force and before he knows it, y/ns heads hitting against the side of the shower wall after she loses her footing.

“Fuck” she whimpers, standing up to her full height as she rubs her head for the second time today. “Ouch, that hurt.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to spank you that hard” Harry rambles, feeling guilty for causing any sort of pain to his wife. He pulls y/n into his chest, his hand rubbing up and down her back. “Are you okay? Not feeling dizzy or anything?” He questions, worry in his voice which y/n soon dismisses.

“I’m ok, just lost my bearings” she giggles, kissing Harry’s chest. Y/n leans her head against him, her ear placed right over his heart, she could feel his rather fast heartbeat. “Baby, I promise, I’m ok. Maybe shower sex isn’t for us, but I’m all good. No concussion or anything” she reassured her stubborn husband.

“Ok, I’m glad love. I’m sorry once again, let’s just go cuddle, you can be the big spoon if you want” Harry suggests to which y/n is quick to agree on. They swiftly finish off their shower before making their way back to their bedroom to have a cuddle.

“Have we truly been out of practice for that long?” Y/n asks, as Harry pulls her closer towards him. She tucks into his armpit, her arm going over his broad chest as he leans to kiss into her hair.

“What do you mean, peach?” He asks, his fingers drawing soft and delicate patterns onto her arm.

“Like, have we lost our passion? We’ve tried to have sex twice so far and they’ve both failed. And It’s only 11 am” she questions, her eyebrows furrowed, something Harry loved about her. Every time she got angry or confused, her eyebrows furrowed and he believes it was the cutest thing ever.

“I wouldn’t say we’ve lost our passion, I mean I was dead set on fucking you into oblivion. We’re perfect but sex isn’t. It’s never perfect, you know that, sometimes I get a leg cramp from all the thrusting or your boobs get way too sensitive. Shit happens, we can always try again later, we’ve got the day to ourselves love, don’t worry over it” he speaks, slowly and gently, trying to find the right words to make y/n feel better. She nods and kisses his bare chest, nuzzling her face into his side.

“You’re right, I’m sorry, just get too into my head” she sighs and Harry kisses her hair once again before moving to lift her face towards him.

“Peach, don’t be sorry. It’s ok to feel anxious about stuff like this, I’m glad you spoke to me about it. We’ll have sex don’t worry” he smiles and she nods, cuddling closer towards him. Harry doesn’t let up on his promise from before and he’s turning on his side so y/n can spoon him from behind, the two slowly drifting off to sleep in the position.

After a good hour's nap, the two woke up feeling nice and refreshed. Harry gazed sleepily at his wife, his fingers moving to push her hair back behind her ear. “Hey, you” he spoke groggily, smiling lazily.

“Hi” y/n squeaked, her eyes drowsy and voice soft, “that was a nice nap”

Harry smiles down at her, his hand beginning to rub soothing patterns onto her back, he was fully facing her now. “Yeah, I’m feeling nice and awake now,” he says, “think we should have sex”

“Hmm, should we now?” Y/n teases, running her fingertips up and down Harry’s chest whilst biting her lip. She looks up at him, excitement in her eyes, she really wanted this. She craved it and she didn’t want anything to ruin it.

“Yeah” he murmurs, a slight groan and strain present in his voice. “want your pretty mouth wrapped around me. Be a good girl and show me some love”

“Hmm, guess we should lock the door first” y/n spoke, leaving the bed to lock the door, she walks back graciously, her hair a mess from the nap but nonetheless she looked amazing. Once she’s back on the bed, she begins to slither her hands down Harry’s body, feeling the ridges of his toned torso before finding purchase on his boxers. Harry lifts his hips and she pulls down the boxers, freeing his already aching and hard cock.

She curled her fingers around his thick cock, a breathy exhale leaving Harry’s perfect lips as she started sensually tugging at it. Y/ns lips slowly come to close over his tip, eyes focused on his as she drags her tongue over the head of his shaft, licking it lewdly and sliding her tip around it. The sensation of the teasing, has Harry moaning, voice low and brimming with lust.

Y/n slowed the movement of her stroking hand as she started to take him in deeper, her kissable lips wrapped around his shaft, sucking sensually. Harry moaned deeply at the feeling of her lips sliding over the head of his shaft repeatedly, he was big and filled her mouth out perfectly.

Y/n was moving her head up and down, slowly beginning to take more of him into her mouth, tongue lavishing the head of his cock with a slew of wet licks, teasing the tip repeatedly as her hand comes up to play with his balls. She squeezed lightly, watching as Harry’s mouth parted in a silent scream and his head fell back. His hand comes to cup the back of your head, nudging her down a bit. “Stop teasing me peach” he groans, taking his lips in his teeth as she looked up at him.

He’s greeted with a soft hum, the vibrations making him buck his hips up a bit, wanting more and she obliges, taking him in even deeper as her tongue pressed against the underside of his cock. Y/n pursed her lips snugly around his shaft and slurped right back to the tip before going back down again, repeating this motion a couple of times all whilst her hand continued to play and tease his balls. He was hissing and groaning at the contact-making her smile against him. Y/n took pride in the fact that she was the reason he was a withering mess.

Her other hand left his cock, now resting on his thigh to keep herself steadied as she continued bopping her head up and down, her drool running down his girth and making wet-sounding slurps.

Pushing down on her head more insistently Harry got y/n to move faster, a shudder of pure ecstasy travelling up his cock as she sucked him off. He leaned back onto his hand, groaning as he looked down at y/ns nearly bare back, only her bra straps present. Harry reached forwards and undid the bra in a second, freeing her breasts from the constraint. He threw the bra off the bed.

His cock twitched deep within y/ns mouth and he groans, “fuck, I need to be inside of you right now”

Y/n pulls back, a line of saliva still connecting her to his wet cock and speaks “please, fuck me” she begs causing a growl to escape from Harry. He was quick to lift her, flipping them over, trapping his wife beneath him.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard” he rasped, grazing her nipple with his teeth, pulling a gasp from her. Harry was ruthless when it came to the bedroom, a man that knew what he wanted, a man who had someone that would give him exactly what he needed. In a sense, that would make him dangerous, pulling orgasm after orgasm from his lover, watching and loving the way she squirmed on the bed, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

Licking. Sucking. Biting. Harry did whatever he could to satisfy y/n's needs, loving the way she threw her head back at the sensation of his warm wet tongue gliding over her soft skin, her fingers getting lost in his hair. His hands smoothed their way down her legs, caressing the skin, he positioned them over his hip, his hard-on coming in direct contact with her dripping core.

“Babe, please” y/n moaned, her head resting against the pillow, giving him more access to litter her skin with kisses.

“I’m getting to it” Harry murmured against her neck, continuing to leave a series of light kisses there, teasingly. “I fucking love you” he spoke, his hand sliding up her body, gently cupping a breast and then tugging at the nipple making y/n squirm and take his cock into her hand. She’s had enough of the teasing and needed him. She quickly discards her panties, whimpering upon feeling the weight of his cock in her hands.

“Need you in me” she whimpered, guiding his leaking cock towards her entrance. Harry looked down, his eyes on the way y/n had a tight grip around his cock. He loved watching the way she ran the head of his shaft up and down her weepy core, gathering some of her wetness, to make the first thrust easier. It was in these moments, that Harry was glad he had a vasectomy, no longer worrying about having to use condoms or the effects birth control pills had on y/n. He was free to enjoy the warm and wet walls of y/n engulfing around him, and what bliss that was.

“You’re always so wet for me” Harry observed, watching as y/n bit her lip upon hearing him. “Love watching this cunt take me, you always take me so well baby” he speaks lowly, as y/n finally places his plump cockhead where it needs to be. Harry slowly thrusts his hip forward, pushing into her, earning a gasp from his lover.

Y/n squeezes her eyes shut, her head thrown back as Harry begins his steady rhythm of thrusting, withdrawing slowly before pushing in and bottoming out again, profanities slipping from her lips. Her hands were clasped around his back, and her legs wrapped around his hips.

Harry flattened his tongue against the base of y/n's neck and licked all the way up to her ear “fuckin gorgeous” he moaned, his hips still keeping up with the pleasurable pace. His thick cock was engulfed with y/n's warmness, he felt as if he was in heaven.

The burning friction from Harry’s powerful thrusts. The bang of the headboard hitting against the wall. The scent of their combined sweat. The slapping sound of skin against skin. Her fingers drawing blood from his shoulders. The sensation was powerful and the couple have never felt better. Y/n feels a little stupid, thinking she lost her passion with her husband, she knew now for sure that, that would never ever happen.

Harry’s heavy breathing soon turns into grunts and y/n's soft moans into squeals, they were both so close to falling off the edge and into the pool of absolute pleasure. “M’so close. Fuck, you’re so good to me” he growls, his thrusts picking up in pace and force. His pelvis was hitting against y/ns repeatedly, her walls clenching and getting impossibly wetter for him and him only.

Harry shouted her name as he starts to come, his hips slamming against hers as liquid heat begins to fill her up. Every one of his thrusts was punctured with a loud groan and profanity. Y/n lay there as she took his cum, watching her husband shudder and whimper in front of her made her lose her mind. She was so obsessed with him and so was he with her.

He slowly pulls out, watching as his cum leaks out of y/n's puckering hole. “Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me” he growls playfully making her chuckle breathlessly. Harry leans forward to kiss her lips, he slowly sucks on her bottom lip before pulling back. “Can’t let you go without giving you an orgasm m’love. What sort of husband would that make me?” He asks as he begins to move down the bed, back to y/ns core.

He lowers his head, sticking his tongue out and pressing it flat against her clit, he kitten licks it, his eyes closing as he laps up her sweet wetness. Harry wasn’t the type of guy to shy away from cum, even his own, so he had no problem with slowly bringing his fingers to her entrance, pushing his cum back into her.

Y/n's lips separated and a string of profanities spilt from them at the feeling of Harry’s long fingers slowly dipping inside of her and his tongue teasing her clit. He lapped up her juices, his tongue expertly knowing exactly what to do to get y/n to orgasm. He circled her bundle of nerves, over and over with his tongue, occasionally sucking, sending tingles up her spine making her shiver with ecstasy.

She was so close already and with a few more thrusts of his fingers, the lap of his tongue sliding against her clit and the suck of his mouth she came, her legs shaking. She was breathless, completely overtaken by pleasure.

Y/n lay limp against the bed once she came down from her high, Harry slowly pulled his hand out of her warm and deliciously wet cunt and bought his fingers up to his mouth to suck them clean. “I love you so much” she heaves, “didn’t know me looking half sleepy was such a turn on” she joked making Harry chuckle as he fell to the space next to her on the bed, his body heaving with each breath he took.

Harry nipped her ear, pulling her closer to his own body, “you turn me on in every way imaginable, peach” he confessed, pulling a soft smile from y/n. “I love you so much, glad I got to fuck you again”

“I’m glad you fucked me too” y/n giggles, reaching up to press a soft kiss, a complete contrast to how fast and hard they were previously fucking, “you’re the best husband ever” she speaks just as her phone rings. Y/n lazily reaches over to grab it, reading the caller ID with a playful frown, “you got them late again didn’t you?”

“Heyyy, the kids wanted some snacks and who am I to deny?” Harry defends making y/n chuckle. She not only got the best husband ever but she also got to give her children the very best father, a man who would do absolutely anything for his family.

#harry styles smut #harry styles blurbs #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #dad!harry styles

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