a/n: iāve written daddy!shota plenty of times, but iāve never written about how it might have happened. so hereās a hc dump? thereās a lil smutty drabble at the end.
if this isnāt your kind of thing, pls just scroll and ignore.
tw: f!reader, daddy kink (obv), ddlg, mentioned age play, d/s dynamics, pet names: baby, babygirl, sweetheart, good girl
totally blindsided the first time someone whined out a shaky ādaddyā underneath him in his early twenties. almost busted instantly. he knew daddy kinks were a thing, but that was something people joked about, wasnāt it?ā¦ at least thatās what he knew. he also knew he needed to hear it again, but shoved the thought away as the life of an underground hero took hold.
kayama was the one who called him out on it jokingly when she snickered and threw out an offhand, āokay, daddy,ā in response to his being demanding and she earned a nasty glare. she proceeded to do that for the next week, and every time, shota had half a mind to shove her face into any surface he could find and fuck the attitude out of her. but he never did.
got absolutely shitfaced with some friends and drunkenly confided in kamaya as uncomfortable as it was. he wanted answers, wanted to know that he wasnāt some disgusting perv, and if anyone could understand, it would be her. while much more crass than he liked on the matter, she still had compassion.
thanks to kayama, shota soon finds places on the internet where real people are involved in āddlg,ā and a comfort settles in his chest knowing that whatās in his head actually exists.
thereās something that makes his body run hot seeing real people in innocent, frilly clothes, printed, childish panties, maybe an oversized pacifier between their lips, snuggling with the cutest plushies heās ever seenā¦. heās not sure what to make of that, and it takes time for him to figure it out.
by the time you meet shota a few years later, heās figured out most of his likes and dislikes, he thinks. heās considered or been in a d/s dynamic once or twice, but most of his ādaddy kinkā experience falls into āsomething i like to hear in the bedroom.ā
heās pretty perceptive and picked up that you might be that kind of person long before it came up. itās in the small things - the way you get flustered with certain nicknames or a particular tone of voice, how much you enjoy it when heās forceful or takes control, the way he can almost watch your brain short circuit with certain phrases, with how he insists on taking care of you, etc.
heās probably not gonna tell you until you bring it up or it happens naturally; yeah, he wants it, but until you push him, heās not the type to demand what he wants out of sex (or in general) in a romantic relationship because that takes workā¦ and because most sex doesnāt involve romantic relationships for him.
when it does come out, thereās plenty of discussion. heās open with you for the most part because he doesnāt see a reason not to be. no matter how hesitant you might be, heās unfazed by anything you bring up; heās been around the internet enough that heās at least seen the whole spectrum - everything from ādaddy is a nicknameā to 24/7 dynamics heavy on age play.
the first time you let it slip and call him daddy is probably in bed. heās just fucking you that good. your head is spinning and fuzzy at the same time. your voice is muffled by pillows or maybe youāre tucked into the crook of his neck, biting into his sweatshirt. itās soft, hardly intelligible; in fact, you were desperately hoping he hadnāt heard you at all.
but shotaās hearing is sharp, and he knows that what just left your mouth sure as shit was not ābaby.ā
so he leans in, his lips grazing your ear. āwhatās that, sweetheart?ā
āhuh? n-nothin, jusā feels go-ā youāre cut off as your jaw drops and you moan.
shota angles his hips slightly, pounding harder into the spot that had you trembling and seeing white moments ago.
ācāmon babygirl, what did you call me?ā
you whine. heat rushes to your cheeks. āno, sho st-stop, please,ā you plead softly.
āif you wanna fucking cum, youāre gonna repeat what you said,ā he growls. āyou hear me?ā
another hesitant whimper as you clench around his thick cock. shota grunts from the sensation and concedes, opting for a bit of encouragement.
his tone is soft and low. āi need it. let daddy hear you, baby.ā
a shudder runs over your skin, your voice more akin to a broken sob. āfuck daddy, fuc-nngh, please donāt stop.ā
shotaās heavy groan hits your skin as he pants, and you keen in response.
āthatās it. thatās my good girl, shit.ā he presses soft, warm kisses into your skin. āsay it again.ā
if youād like to join my tag list, let me know. ā”
gremlins: @arlerts-angel @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @bookcluberror @neon-gothicc @zazter-den @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll @emmab3mma @aria-chikage @mhadabiandhawks4eva @yazminetrahan @doumadono @dreamcastgirl99 @maddietries @jazzafayesworld @karebear5118 @unofficialmuilover @cherriluvs35 @erensslut @ruu-https @hana-yuri @keiva1000 @katsul0vr @trickster-kat @ayeohoh-blog @dinomeow @flamgosstuff @mistressreaper @angelltheninth @anonymously-ominous @amberexe2 @hisconsistency @nanamisbigassschlong @223princess @honeeslust @naughtygobbo @acenanxious @blumoonwisteria @chaos-gem @levizonlywife @nuttyunknowndetective
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*no rest for the wicked*
my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection š | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu āØ
Twenty-six hours. Thatās how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now.Ā
A sane person whoĀ enjoysĀ sleeping might be asking,Ā āWhy? Why put yourself through this when thereās a perfectly decent bed down the hall?āĀ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:
Concert. Tickets.
Thatās right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. Itās freeĀ andĀ minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?
Ha,Ā sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.
āHow much longer do you have?ā Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.
Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. āLetās just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogyĀ includingĀ the credits for each one.ā
āTranslating to...?ā
āSeven-ish hours.ā Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissyās side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. Itās their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way.Ā
āI always forget that you speak fluent nerd.ā Chrissy snorts.
āOuch.ā Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. āGet back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.ā
Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelesslyĀ in loveĀ his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him.Ā
Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness.Ā
Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddieās other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddieās body.Ā
āScared the shit out of me, man.ā Which couldāve been a literal statement if Eddie hadnāt just taken a bathroom break.
āGotta get this door fixed.ā Steve says. Thatās what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute āfoot tapāĀ routine. āHey - why are you still up?ā
Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that itās fuckingĀ late.Ā He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.
āYouāre still doing that, huh?ā
Eddie nods twice.
āDamn, Iāve never heard you this quiet.ā Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddieās liking. āDidnāt know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.ā
There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.
Eddie claps, total deadpan.
The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. Heās noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers.Ā
Both for him apparently. āWell, listen,ā he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. āIām pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-ā
āSixā¦ hoursā¦ left.ā Eddie musters out.
āOkay well, I doubt Iāll last that long. But I can give it a shot.ā
Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. āThereās a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.ā
āGood to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.ā Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head.Ā
āOh?Ā Thatās a good thing?ā
āDepends on who you ask.ā
āIām askingĀ you.āĀ Itās too direct, Eddie hears it. And now itās just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but heās never been known for his mastery of ambiguity soā¦
The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. āItās good to know, Ed.ā
The light flickers even darker.
Eddie is fully awake after that. Which couldāve been part of Steveās plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. Itās no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy.Ā
Even after living together for a year and seeing one anotherās most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. PurelyĀ smittenĀ in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.
In this moment, however, itās a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.
Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steveās stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steveās hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.
āSleeping with your eyes open, Munson?ā
Eddie blinks hard. āHuh?ā
āCreepy, but impressive.ā Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddieās leg. āYou should add that to theĀ Special SkillsĀ column on your resumĆ©.ā
āBold of you to assume I have a resumĆ©.ā
They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddieās nonexistent resumĆ©. It keeps them busy.Ā Content.Ā Steve smacks Eddieās knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe thatās all in Eddieās semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have EddieĀ fullyĀ committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.
āWhat aboutā¦Ā Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?āĀ Steve suggests.Ā
Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. āA bit wordy.ā
āSo youāre saying length matters?ā
āChrist on toast, Harrington. Youāre awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, arenāt you?ā
Steve doesnāt answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didnāt even need to tell a shitty joke this time.Ā
And when Steveās hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. Itās the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.
Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. Itās four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.
āDo you think if you ever visit Europe, theyād call you Harring-metric-ton?ā Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steveās sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.
Steve groans.Ā āYikes.Ā But yes, that question keeps me up at night.ā
āSoĀ thatāsĀ why youāre still awake. See, I knew it wasnāt because of my silly little concert tickets.āĀ
As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that itās the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steveās harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, EddieĀ knowsĀ it was a joke. But he canāt seem to shut up anymore.
āThe riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.ā Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. āAlert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. Itās what dear, ol' Velma deser-ā
āEddie.āĀ Steve places a hand on Eddieās arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was heĀ shaking?Ā
FuckingĀ mortifying.
Steveās thumb swipes across Eddieās skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. āYouāre rambling.ā
āAnd youāreā¦ā Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. āThere. DoingĀ that.ā
Steve stops briefly to flip Eddieās hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddieās heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steveās fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if heād let him.
āI can stop if itās weird.ā Steveās voice is so much quieter than it was earlier.Ā
Donāt stop.Ā Eddie thinks. Canāt say it like that becauseĀ gross. Humiliating and gross. āItās not weird.ā
Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure heās breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too.Ā
Probably.
āThatās not why Iām staying awake.ā Steve says, never breaking the pattern.
āNo?ā
āItāsĀ whoĀ Iām staying awakeĀ for.ā
Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddieās hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere.Ā
He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steveās lips. If he werenāt stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way heās always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.
He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. āDid Chrissy tell you?ā Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible.Ā
āTell me what?ā
Eddieās head falls, landing somewhere on Steveās chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). Itās so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.
āTell meĀ what, Ed?ā
āThat Iā¦ā Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:
āThat Iām crazy about you.ā
Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in.Ā
Morning.
Itās morning.
āShit.ā
Eddie fell asleep.
Steve fell asleep.
āShitshitshit.Ā So many shits!āĀ He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:
10:24 a.m.
āGoddamnit!ā
Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling forĀ nothing. Even if general admission wasnāt already sold out, itās not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasnāt paid her back.
Itās justĀ soĀ expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.
Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.
Of courseĀ he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddieās breakdown. Unfair.
Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steveās inner handyman tendencies.Ā
He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasnāt had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.
FuckingĀ yay.
āChris, please donāt try to-ā
His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. Sheās so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.
She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. āI knew it! I knew it would finally happen!ā
āThat Iād screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.ā Eddie says.
āWhat are you talking about?ā
āWhat areĀ youĀ talking about?ā
āIām talking about you and Steve!ā She whisper-yells back.
Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldnāt put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, sheās wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.
But it was all cut short by Eddie passing outĀ mid-flirt.Ā God knows how Steve tookĀ thatĀ reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.
Christ,Ā he doesnāt wanna think about that right now. Not while heās still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.
āHate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.ā Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasnāt budged from the recliner. āItās justĀ meĀ over here andĀ SteveĀ over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.ā
He can already tell Chrissy isnāt buying it. Sheās getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. āYou didnāt see what I saw.āĀ
āGay desperation?ā
āNo, you jackass. Come here!ā
Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:
Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.
āHow long were you standing at the door, weirdo?ā Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words.Ā
Chrissy shushes him and squeals. āAnd he kissed your cheek!ā
āLiar.ā
āHe did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.ā
Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. āAnd youāreĀ sureĀ it wasnāt a dream?ā
āPositive.ā
āWhat about a hallucination? Didnāt Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?ā
Chrissy gives a deep sigh. āWhatever. Youāre hopeless.ā She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie canāt argue even if he wanted to (he always does).Ā
He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissyās words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steveās breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until thereās nothing left butĀ Steve.Ā
HimĀ and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.
So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.
Thereās so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie canāt just pinĀ oneĀ down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene thatās occupying his mind, settling in his bones.
āHere,ā he whispers, placing another blanket across Steveās lap. Itās feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesnāt shift or stir.Ā
Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones heās been too sheepish to indulge in before last night.Ā
The tiny hairs on Steveās forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.
He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve mustāve done to him. Itās swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But itās enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.
Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if heād rather keep this memory to himself.Ā
āThanksā¦ by the way.ā Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steveās hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. āIāll tell you again when youāre up, but yeah.ā
āThank you, Steve Harrington.ā
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