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solar-wing · 16 hours

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⚣ Dick Grayson: NSFW Alphabet 🔵

⚣🔵 Words → 3.5k

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💙

⚣ ENJOY 🔵

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Caring and attentive. In other words, cling as hell.

It’s amazing how someone who was just fucking you like an absolute slut could turn into the world’s most innocent and soft boy in existence. When you think about it, it’s actually a little bit disturbing as well.

But, I digress. Dick will absolutely pick you up and carry you into the shower or whatever you desire. He’s also perfectly fine with lying in the mess. He doesn’t care as long as he gets to cuddle you right after.

He will have an overwhelming smug attitude though, especially if the sex was preceded by an argument, disagreement, or the acrobat just wanted to teach you a lesson. He can be a little shit when he wants to be.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I feel like we all know the answer to this one.

Dick’s butt is praised so much, that you already know he puts extra time and care into making sure it stays nice, right, and tight. He not so secretly loves when you play with it as well, whether it’s a light slap or pressing up against him even though he’s always the top. Notable mentions: His chest, abs, and thighs.

If you assumed his favorite body part on you was your ass, you’d guess right. Congratulations! You win nothing except a hard and playful smack on said ass from the acrobat. You’re welcome! Honorable mentions: Your waist, thighs, and chest. His weakness is any kind of jiggle and he is not ashamed or afraid of getting caught staring.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He may not play basketball but he’s a shooter (kill me). He can pretty much cover you anywhere or reach your furthest depths inside (careful if it’s M-Preg or he’ll definitely be the father).

He’s equal with where he likes to cum. He likes to sum on your face, chest, and body just as much as he loves to shoot down your throat and inside your hole. And the filthy little acrobat will definitely lick your cum off his hand after stroking you to your own finish. Let’s be clear now, this man has no shame.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Dick’s got a body count. Not as high as Bruce’s maybe but it’s up there. He can play innocent all he wants, but that man can and will get down when he’s feeling it.

Which, speaking of, he has definitely used Nightwing to land him some ass. No, I will not be taking questions.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Again, he doesn’t exactly have the title of a playboy like his adoptive father, but Dick’s been around the block. So he definitely knows a thing or two when it comes to the down and dirty.

Even if you are experienced yourself, I can guarantee Dick knows some tricks you don’t know which will have you, well…let’s save that for the bedroom, shall we?

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Face down, ass up, and no that was not a suggestion. Dick absolutely favors any position where your ass is bouncing in his face. Doggy, reverse cowgirl, spooning, standing behind, anything.

He also loves a good 69 moment and enjoys the missionary positions where he can really put in some power while inside you. You on the bed and him standing, countertop, or a stand-carry.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

If you know Dick’s personality, while the boy can be an absolute menace in the bedroom, he’s still a goofball at heart. Also, known for his witty banter, you can expect some wild stuff to come out that man’s mouth while he’s cumming to yours (tee hee).

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dick is definitely well-groomed. He used to be a performer so he always took extreme care of his appearance. Keeps himself shaven and clean-cut, which definitely makes him appear bigger, as well as keeping those areas down there fresh and ready for any kind of play.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Dick is a romantic at heart. As much as he can be a little dominant shit in the bedroom, he’s always down for some soft love and intimate moments.

Candles, roses, food, massages with kisses down your body, maybe a little romantic dance before you get sweaty. You name it, Dick’s already thought of it and is thinking of more. Just as much as he wants to please you sexually, intimacy and romance never is off the table.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Dick is probably the most sexually active just behind Bruce, so you can definitely imagine that boy is no stranger to an evening alone with just him and his hand. Just as much as he knows how to please others, he knows how to please himself.

He knows when he’s in the mood to drag it out and edge himself while imagining or watching some slow, soft dirty dancing, and he knows when he’s frustrated and just needs to rub one out to get the edge off a little bit. Again, you won’t find many things in that realm that Dick has not either already tried or even just learned about.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Role-Playing: Once again, I bring up the fact that Dick is a retired performer. You know he’s one for the dramatics and theatrics, especially when it comes to sex. Whether it’s Nightwing coming to the rescue of some helpless dude, or instead that same person being abducted and forced to serve Nightwing to earn his freedom, nothing is off the table. And yes, as I just implied, that included CNC (Consensual-Non-Consensual). He’d never push you too far (unless variable circumstances apply), but he’s down to play any role. He’s the cop and you’re the guilty criminal he’s just arrested. You’re his student and desperately need a passing grade to graduate.

BDSM: He’s not too much into the lifestyle, but he definitely dabbles. He likes certain aspects of it, specifically the bondage, Dom/Sub roles, and getting to inflict punishments (his favorite being spanking cause it means he gets to play with your ass more). This also helps a lot with this abducted, helpless victim role-play when he gets to pull out the cuffs, rope, blindfolds, gags, and whatever else he’s got lying around. And he’s not opposed to the roles being reversed.

Dirty Talk: The guy is all about using his words remember. Self-explanatory.

Public Play (Exhibitionism): Dick’s not a sex addict, but he might as well be one with the way that man will drop his pants without a second thought, no matter where he is. Of course, he’s not just going to outright start doing it in front of others, but the thrill of pulling you into a dark corner, alleyway, restroom and the risk of you getting caught will always get him excited. Double points if you actually do get caught, because again, this man has no shame.

Honorable Mentions: Edge Play (choking/breath play), Impact Play (sub of BDSM, spanking, paddling, etc), Wrestling, Daddy kink, Mirror Sex, etc.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

As we just went over, public places really get Dick going. Especially if he’s out as Nightwing and wants to pull you into a random alley or bring you to some high-up rooftop, he will happily christen a surface that is not within the confines of his own house or private dwelling, and he won’t feel bad about it.

Other specific places?

The shower, any counter or table surface, the Batmobile, his motorbike, literally anywhere in his apartment, etc.

He really has no reservations about where he does it, as long as he can get up in you, he’s content.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

#1 – He’s a horny bastard: Again, he’s not a sex addict, but he sure has the sex drive of one. It doesn’t take much to get him turned on. A casual, suggestive sentence, the way your shorts are really highlighting your work in the gym, how you're sucking on the straw while sipping your drink, or even when you’re just standing or sitting doing nothing, that man will get hard and he will pounce on you.

#2 – Domestic Actions/Life: This is something I forgot to mention with Jason so I’ll mention it here because I’m definitely head-canoning that they both share this in common. Any kind of domestic act. You cook him dinner when he comes home or pack his lunch before he heads out for the day. Helping clean up his house or doing his laundry and folding his clothes. Running him a bath, washing his hair, giving him a massage after a hard day or night. Waiting up for him in bed after patrol and patting the space once he changes out of his uniform, laying down and letting him vent about anything on his mind while you rub his body or head. All of it and more will definitely have him up and ready for fun.

#3 – Jealousy: Now, you may think I mean when someone flirts with you and he gets all macho and protective, rah rah rah. Nope, not at all (unless we’re talking Alpha Dick in Omegaverse. Then, that’s different because, by the rule, it’s a part of his biology to be). Dick is actually quite casual and will find it humorous when someone tries to even think about flirting with you in hopes of stealing you away from him. He knows his worth, and even more, he knows how good his dick is. He’s not worried. But, when it’s the opposite, and someone flirts with him because again, this man is literally one of the most attractive beings probably in the entire world, he absolutely will be turned on at the sight of you staking your claim on him, chasing off any hag dared flirt with him in front of you.

Honorable Mentions: Arguing/Make-Up Sex, Clothing, exercising, any kind of physical touch.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Nothing that could involve serious injury or blood. Also, nothing even remotely unsanitary. I mean scat/throw-up/piss.

Also, he may be into very public displays of affection but do not get it twisted one bit. Dick is not into any type of sharing. He’s a sweetie at heart, but don’t piss him off with that ridiculous idea.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Dick is the goat of throat. Yeah, I said it…what you gon do? Beat my ass or something?

Just kidding, but no seriously, this man has a reputation known among his sexual partners for the danger to society that is his mouth, and not when it’s giving off a witty/sarcastic remark. He’s been known to drive some people to the brink of insanity, metaphorically speaking of course. But, then again, you never know with these people.

He loves to receive head and loves to give it even more. Especially when he gets to play with your balls and deny your orgasm every time you reach the edge, the little bastard. Same can be said if he’s munching on that hole too, which he eagerly does cause the sight of it puckering and winking at him sends all the little happy flutters to his own groin.

Now, if we’re talking again about receiving, and you think you’re gonna have him putty in your hand like he does with you, think again. This man is the definition of a seasoned veteran. There’s only been one known time he’s ever gotten overwhelmed and came from just head, and that was when he was a teenager. If you’re hoping to do that now, you’d better have expert-level skills, cause he will test you. Facefucking, choking and gagging, and whatever else that comes to mind.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the mood.

High off adrenaline after an intense patrol or fight? Congratulations, you’re about to be his next victim. You got jealous and cussed out someone for trying to flirt with him? Prepare to learn a whole new meaning of getting rough sex. Wore some 3 in shorts to the gym AND did a leg day? Gon head and bend that ass over, you’re about to experience why he’s called ‘Dick’ rather than ‘Rich’ or something else for a nickname. Please cancel any plans you have for that evening or the next day cause you may not be able to walk, stand, or even move for that manner.

On the opposite side, did you take his Nightwing suit and hand wash it, making it look like the day he first put it on? Sweet lord, you’re a treasure and he’s about to show you why. It’s your anniversary and you got him one of the most beautiful and sentimental gifts? You and your body are about to be treated like an award that he is the sole recipient of. You cussed out Bruce after he did something stupid and reckless again involving Dick or one of the others? Not only is Jason blessing the ground you walk on, Dick’s about to drop down on one knee and propose, and then proceed to treat your body like a slut in the most romantic and sensual way you could ever imagine. As a precaution, still, go ahead and cancel any future plans just in case.

Dick truly has no preference other than whatever he’s feeling at the moment. Long, deep strokes, or quick, fast juts? Whatever gets the job done and reminds you there’s nobody better than him is good in his book.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Dick loves quickies. As chaotic and busy as his life is, he practically lives off them and craves them.

Again, this man should have his headshot in the dictionary next to ‘horny’ or promiscuous. Cause if it was up to him? He’d be screwing you once every 2 hours at least. Whether it’s a quick handjob he’s giving you, or he’s got both your pants down while rapidly fucking into you cause he’s only got five minutes before he has to get back, he’s doing it.

The man thinks they should be protected and enshrined into law. That’s how much he loves them.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’ll try anything and everything under the sun and moon as long as it’s not one of his already-mentioned no-no’s. If it adds excitement to the routine, why not? You never know with that man.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Very adamant stamina. His plentiful experiences have shaped it, and his physical training and endurance have added to it.

That man can do multiple rounds in a night, ranging anywhere from 3-5, and maybe even more if just that kind of night. He also knows his body, and can/will do what he needs to do to drag one round out for as long as he can until not only is he satisfied himself, but he feels he’s adequately satisfied you. And to be clear, you have absolutely no say on whether he feels like he’s satisfied you or not.

So please, get used to the idea of being overstimulated and crying at the 3rd or 4th orgasm he gives you before he’s even had one. It’ll save you a lot of frustration (not really but you get what I mean).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Dick, who again, will and has tried everything under the moon and sun. Of course, he has toys. What do you think this is? A playground? Please…

And trust, he’s going to get more. He’s probably signed up on a loyalty program with a sex store or website, and best believe he’s got diamond status.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A prayer for the innocent soul who unknowingly awakens the playful, petty, and vindictive part of Dick Grayson’s personality, especially when it comes to sex. May god, the universe, karma, whatever else have mercy on your soul and may the odds ever be in your favor.

There’s a reason I call Dick Grayson a little shit, bastard, fucker, and other various names because that is literally what he is, and I love him the more for it. He doesn’t get angry, upset, or even mad (unless it’s something serious). No, he gets petty, and that turns into him being the most teasing piece of shit in the bedroom, especially if you’ve challenged him in some kind of way.

Orgasm denial, forcing you to be quiet and stay still, sensory overload, multiple orgasms, and overstimulation; all this and he hasn’t even put his tongue on you yet, let alone his dick anywhere near you. That man is vindictive and will play on it until his heart’s content. Please, tread carefully when choosing whether or not you want to fuck with this man, especially if he’s in a mood.

Matter of fact, just run. Actually, don’t do that either. He likes the chase. FUCK! You’re screwed no matter what (metaphorically AND literally).

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Dick gets loud. And he wants you to get equally as loud with him.

He’s not afraid to let out the sluttiest sounds, from soft and quiet moans to loud and debauched shouts from the top of his lungs. He can be quiet if need be, but he’d rather not. He enjoys the idea of people knowing he’s getting lucky and, even more, the idea of people knowing you’re getting lucky from him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

That man has an obsession with doing it in his Nightwing suit. You think he picked that style and aesthetic for something as useless as flexibility, quick movement, and durability? Absolutely not.

Dick absolutely knew what he was doing when he had his suit designed. He wanted to look like a slut and nothing more, and that's okay! I mean, come on, you think his ass looking that good in his uniform was a coincidence? A mistake? How innocent and naive of you.

Everyone should have known Dick’s true intentions when they saw how sinfully deep the cut was in his first suit that we all know and love as Discowing. That man fully intended for his suit to be something he could fuck up and fuck dudes in while looking hot. It was non-negotiable.

Look at him.

Like, I'm sorry, but what the hell do you mean I’m not supposed to be turned on and have my legs divorcing like a whore who's being prosecuted in a court of law due to adulterous behavior with this standing in front of me? Are you unwell?!?!?

Yeah, respectfully no. I will forever headcanon that Dick Grayson knew exactly what he was doing when he had his suits designed, and it was the complete opposite of what everyone was saying.

“Dick is quick and agile."

"He’s lightweight on his feet."

"He needs a suit that will support and accentuate his acrobatic skills.”

Absolutely not. That man is (respectfully in an empowering context) a slut, on the inside and out, and he wanted a suit that would best show it to the world. I will not be gaslit into believing otherwise.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

What Dick lacks in girth, he makes up for in length and skill. He’s definitely not thin, but he's a little under-average when it comes to thickness. Somewhere between 6-7 inches.

More than likely cut, and has a voluptuous head that’s perfect for sucking on and teasing.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

We’ve discussed this in great length, multiple times. It’s self-explanatory at this point. The man is basically the human equivalent of a rabbit or bunny.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Dick can stay up long after the round has been up, especially if he’s in a mood where he wants to talk. Ironically, after fucking like some wild animals with the most questionable mindsets and morals, he loves to shoot the shit and have pillow talk after.

I don’t know how many times I have to say it, but Dick is basically a chatterbox and will ask you about your day, what you had for lunch, who pissed you off at work, and more while still buried inside of your ass with your dick pressed between both your stomachs. He’s also content with turning on the TV or whatever screen is available and watching a movie or something until you both fall asleep. Mind you, he’s probably still inside you and is going to try his best to stay inside even if he’s gone soft and keeps slipping out.

☀️ | Dick Grayson/Nightwing | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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everywherea11thetime · 3 days

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So High School | ln4 x singer!reader| smau

warnings: mentions of sex

a/n: added a lil espresso bc it was way too short:/

y/ninstagram

liked by 300,405 others

y/ninstagram: New single out now! It’s called so high school. I wanna thank jack for helping produce this and i wanna thank my boy for being my muse<3 You know who you are i love you;).

view all comments

fan63: YESS Y/N IS FEEDING USSSS

fan95: hello who is this about😭

fan24: girlll “you know how to drive i know Aristotle” imma need every person who has a license in the world

fan78: is this abt a race car driver?

→fan75: Nascar maybe??

mclaren: We love the song y/n🧡

→fan35: ariana wyd here?

→fan40: is the song about a mclaren driver?

→fan28: girl no

twitter

fan40: guys I think so high school is abt a McLaren f1 driver and here’s why. Most obvious one, in her song So High School she says you know how to drive i know aristotle, so it’s somebody in the racing world, then on her anouncement mclaren commented saying that they “loved the song” know it might just be that y/n a McLaren f1 fan but also maybe they met at the bahrain gp that y/n was in march. coincidence I THINK NOT.

→fan38: girl im not gonna lie ur kinda onto something…

→fan82: nurse shes out again!

F1wags

Liked by:y/ninstagram and 18,974 others

F1wags: Lando Norris and singer/songwriter Y/n Y/Ln spotted at Club Gascon in London out only a week after speculations of who her new song So High School was about. People said they had their romantic dinner then were spotted walking to the guildhall art gallery. New couple alert?

view all comments

fan64: Y/N IN THE LIKES?????!!!!

fan71: guys maybe that twitter thread was right…

fan49: she dates to many guys, im scared for lando

→fan57: her song abt him is literally how she wants them to be forever bsffr…

fan35: Not my two worlds colliding

fan91: im actually so ready for this relationship

fan86: the next album is about to be so fireee

fan63: @/y/ninstagram @/landonorris care to explain yourselves???

→y/ninstagram: No thanks

→landonorris: no we’re good

→fan63: WE’RE!!!???????

fan54: THEY HIT THE PENTAGON

Texts between lando and y/n

y/n: should we just hard launch already?

landino: I mean they kinda already know.

y/n: alr im making the post, make yours sweet please. I dont trust you

landino: awhh please baby i had a whole caption out😔🤚

y/n: don’t come crying to after mclaren scolding you again babe

landino: YIPPIEEEE

y/ninstagram

y/ninstagram: you know what you wanted and boy, you got her🧡 ft real pic of me on the last slide watching lan and his friends listen to so high school

tagged:landonorris

comments

maxfewtrell: still haven’t recovered from that song…

→landonorris: wanna play gta tonight?

→maxfewtrell: NO

→angryginge13: NO

→martingarrix: NO

→ maxverstappen: NO

→ danielricciardo: NO

→ y/ninstagram: damn, American Pie then?

landonorris: love you babe(i would have chose kill)

→ y/ninstagram: oh what’d you say “no sex for a month”

→ landonorris: NO I SAID I LOVE YOU AND YOUR THE BEST PERSON ON THIS EARTH AND YOUR SO AWESOME AND COOL😍❤️❤️❤️💕💕😘😘🥰(plz lemme eat u out)

fan40: I WAS RIGHT AND U ALL SAID I WAS CRAZY

fan83: the fifth slide!!!!???

fan74: they’re actually so cute omg

landonorris

liked by:y/Instagram and 1,031,495

landonorris: it’s true, swear, scouts honor . Also me n her if we were in gta🤭

Comments

Maxfewtrell:WAIT I JUST GOT THE SCOUTS HONOR LYRIC… GROSS

→ landonorris: sorry💁

→ y/ninstagram: sorry💁‍♀️

martingarrix: I will never be able to look either of y'all in the eye

→ y/ninstagram: sorry💁‍♀️

→ landonorris: sorry💁

Y/Instagram: i told you to make it sweet…

→landonorris: this IS sweet…like you😛

→y/Instagram: blocked and reported

fan57: 3RD SLIDE IS SO MOMMY🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Mclaren: hey can we maybe not

fan10: y/n plz I could treat you so much better

→landonorris: did you not listen to the song?

carlossainz: landos not so little anymore🥲

→y/Instagram: definitely not little

oscarpiastri: guys please tell them to stop making out in front of me I. AM. TIRED

Y/Instagram

liked by landonorris and 2,275,286 others

y/ninstagram: ESPRESSO SONG AND MUSIC VIDEO OUT NOW!

veiw all comments

landonorris: you mountain dew it for me😻😻😻

landonorris: first

landonorris: most beautiful amazing gorgeous person on this earth🤭🤭

→y/ninstagram: 🤭🤭🤭 cmere🤭🤭🤭

→ landonorris: yes ma’am🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

fan45: not Lando being a simp on main

→landonorris: AND I WILL DO IT AGAIN

fan76: why does vroom vroom guy keep getting songs😔

→y/ninstagram: the d is fireeeeee

☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎

a/n2: sorry this took so long and was so short, collage is not for the weak and I've had tests all week

#everywherea11thetime #lando norris x reader #lando norris smau #f1 x reader #lando norris x you #ln4 x reader

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 20 hours

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1968 [Chapter 6: Athena, Goddess Of Wisdom]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 5.2k

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Here at the midway point in our journey—like Dante stumbling upon the gates of the Inferno—would it be the right moment to review what’s at stake? Let’s begin.

It’s the end of August. The delegates of the Democratic National Convention in Chicago officially vote to name Aemond the party’s presidential candidate. His ascension is aided by 10,000 antiwar demonstrators who flood into the city and threaten to set it ablaze if Hubert Humphrey is chosen instead. At the end—in his death rattle—Humphrey begs to be Aemond’s running mate, one last humiliation he cannot resist. Humphrey is denied. Eugene McCarthy, dignity intact, boards a commercial flight to his home state of Minnesota without looking back.

Aemond selects U.S. Ambassador to France, Sargent Shriver, to be his vice president. Shriver is a Kennedy by marriage—his wife, JFK’s younger sister Eunice, just founded the Special Olympics—and has previously headed the Office of Economic Opportunity, the Peace Corps, and the Chicago Board of Education. He also served as the architect of the president’s “War on Poverty” before distancing himself from the imploding Johnson administration. Shriver is not a concession to fence-sitting moderates or Southern Dixiecrats, but an embodiment of Aemond’s commitment to unapologetic progressivism. Richard Nixon spends the weekend campaigning in his native California, a gold vein of votes like the mines settlers rushed to in 1848. George Wallace announces that he will run as an Independent. Racists everywhere rejoice.

Phase III of the Tet Offensive is underway in Vietnam; 700 American soldiers have been killed this month alone. Riots break out in military prisons where the U.S. Army is keeping their deserters. The North Vietnamese refuse to allow Pope Paul VI to visit Hanoi on a peace mission. President Johnson calls both Aemond and Nixon to personally inform them of this latest evidence of the communists’ unwillingness to negotiate in good faith. Daeron and John McCain remain in Hỏa Lò Prison. The draft swallows men like the titan Cronus devoured his own children.

In Eastern Europe, the Russians are crushing pro-democracy protests in the largest military operation since World War II as half a million troops roll into Czechoslovakia. In Caswell County, North Carolina, the last remaining segregated school district in the nation is ordered by a federal judge to integrate after years of stalling. On the Fangataufa Atoll in the South Pacific, France becomes the fifth nation to successfully explode a hydrogen bomb. In Mexico City, 300,000 students gather to protest the authoritarian regime of President Diaz Ordaz. In Guatemala, American ambassador John Gordon Mein is murdered by a Marxist guerilla organization called the Rebel Armed Forces. In Columbus, Ohio, nine guards are held hostage during a prison riot; after 30 hours, they’re rescued by a SWAT team.

The latest issue of Life magazine brings worldwide attention to catastrophic industrial pollution in the Great Lakes. The first successful multiorgan transplant is carried out at Houston Methodist Hospital. The Beatles release Hey Jude, the best-selling single of 1968 in the U.S., U.K., Australia, and Canada. NASA’s Apollo lunar landing program plans to launch a crewed shuttle next year, just in time to fulfill John F. Kennedy’s 1962 promise to put a man on the moon “before the end of the decade.” If this is successful, the United States will win the Space Race and prove the superiority of capitalism. If it fails, the martyred astronauts will join all the other ghosts of this apocalyptic age, an epoch born under bad stars.

The night sky glows with the ancient debris of the Aurigid meteor shower. From down here on Earth, Jupiter is a radiant white gleam, visible with the naked eye and admired since humans were making cave paintings and Stonehenge. But Io is a mystery. With a telescope, she becomes a dust mote entrapped by Jupiter’s gravity; to the casual observer, she doesn’t exist at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

What was it like, that very first time? It’s strange to remember. You’re both different people now.

It’s May, 1966. You and Aemond are engaged, due to be married in three short weeks, and if you get pregnant then it’s no harm, no foul. In reality, it will end up taking you over a year to conceive, but no one knows that yet; you are living in the liminal space between what you imagine your life will be and the cold blade of the truth. Aemond has brought you to Asteria for the weekend, an increasingly common occurrence. The Targaryens—minus one, that holdout prodigal son, always glowering from behind swigs of rum and clouds of smoke—have already begun to treat you like a member of the family. The flock of Alopekis yap excitedly and lick your shins. Eudoxia learns your favorite snacks so she can have them ready when you arrive.

One night Aemond takes your hand and leads you to Helaena’s garden, darkness turned to twilight in the artificial luminance of the main house. You can hear distant voices, chatter and laughter, and the Beatles’ Rubber Soul spinning on the record player in the living room like a black hole, gravity that not even light can escape when it is wrenched over the event horizon.

You’re giggling as Aemond pulls you along, faster and faster, weaving through pathways lined with roses and sunflowers and butterfly bushes. Your high heels sink into soft, fertile earth; the air in your lungs is cool and infinite. “Where are we going?”

And Aemond grins back at you as he replies: “To Olympus.”

In the circle of hedges guarded by thirteen gods of stone, Aemond unzips your modest pink sundress and slips your heels off your feet, kneeling like he’s proposing to you again. When you are bare and secretless, he draws you down onto the grass and opens you, claims you, fills you to the brim as the crystalline water of the fountain patters and Zeus hurls his lightning bolts, an eternal storm, unending war. It’s intense in a way it never was with your first boyfriend, a sweet polite boy who talked about feminist theory and followed his enlightened conscience all the way to Vietnam. This isn’t just a pleasant way to pass a Friday night, something to look forward to between differential equations textbooks and calculus proofs. With Aemond it’s a ritual; it’s something so overpowering it almost scares you.

“Aphrodite,” Aemond murmurs against your throat, and when you try to get on top he stops you, pins you to the ground, thrusts hard and deep, and you try not to moan too loudly as you surrender, his weight on you like a prophesy. This is how he wants you. This is where you belong.

Has someone ever stitched you to their side, pushing the needle through your skin again and again as the fabric latticework takes shape, until their blood spills into your veins and your antibodies can no longer tell the difference? He makes you think you’ve forgotten who you were before. He makes you want to believe in things the world taught you were myths.

But that was over two years ago. Now Aemond is not your spellbinding almost-stranger of a fiancé—shrouded in just the right amount of mystery—but your husband, the father of your dead child, the presidential candidate. You miss when he was a mirage. You miss what it felt like to get high on the idea of him, each taste a hit, each touch a rush of toxins to the bloodstream.

Seven weeks after your emergency c-section, you are healing. Your belly no longer aches, your bleeding stops, you can rejoin the living in this last gasp of summer. Ludwika takes you shopping and you pick out new swimsuits; you’ve gone up a size since the baby, and it shows no signs of vanishing. In the fitting room, Ludwika chain-smokes Camel cigarettes and claps when you show her each outfit, ordering you to spin around, telling you that there’s nothing like Oleg Cassini back in Poland. You plan to buy three swimsuits. Ludwika insists you get five. She pays with Otto’s American Express.

That afternoon at home in your blue bedroom, you get changed to join the rest of the family down by the pool, your first swim since Ari was born. You choose Ludwika’s favorite: a dreamy turquoise two-piece with flowing transparent fabric that drapes your midsection. You can still see the dark vertical line of where the doctors stitched you closed. Now you and Aemond match; he got his scar on the floor of the Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach, you earned yours at Mount Sinai Hospital in Manhattan. There are gold chains on your wrist and looped around your neck. Warm sunlight and ocean wind pours in through the open windows.

Aemond appears in the doorway and you turn to show him, proud of how you’ve pulled yourself together, how this past year hasn’t put you in an asylum. His right eye catches on your scar and stays there for a long time. Then at last he says: “You don’t have something else to wear?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Labor Day, and Asteria has been descended upon by guests invited to celebrate Aemond’s nomination. The dining room table is overflowing with champagne, Agiorgitiko wine, platters of mini spanakopitas, lamb gyros, pita bread with hummus and tzatziki, feta cheese and cured meats, grilled octopus, baklava, and kourabiethes. Eudoxia is rushing around sweeping up crumbs and shooing tipsy visitors away from antique vases shipped here from Greece. Aemond’s celebrity endorsers include Sammy Davis Jr., Sonny and Cher, Andy Williams, Bobby Darin, Warren Beatty, Shirley MacLaine, Claudine Longet, and a number of politicians; but the most notable attendee is President Lyndon Baines Johnson, shadowed by Secret Service agents. He won’t be making any surprise appearances on the campaign trail for Aemond—in the present political climate, he would be more of a liability than an asset—but he has travelled to Long Beach Island tonight to offer his well-wishes. From the record player thrums Jimi Hendrix’s All Along The Watchtower.

When you finish getting ready and arrive downstairs, you spot Aegon: slouching in a velvet chair over a century old, hair shagging in his eyes, sipping something out of a chipped mug he clasps with both hands, flirting with a bubbly early-twenties campaign staffer. Aegon smiles and waves when he sees you. You wave back. And you think: When did he become the person I look for when I walk into a room?

Now Aemond is beside you in a blue suit—beaming, confident, his glass eye in place, a hand resting on your waist—and Aegon isn’t smiling anymore. He takes a gulp of what is almost certainly straight rum from his mug and returns his attention to the campaign staffer, his lady of the hour. You picture him undressing her on his shag carpet and feel disorienting, violent envy like a bullet.

Viserys is already fast asleep upstairs, but the rest of the family is out en masse to charm the invitees and pose for photographs. Alicent, Helaena, and Mimi—trying very hard to act sober, blinking too often—are chit-chatting with the other political wives. Otto is complaining about something to Criston; Criston is pretending to listen as he stares at Alicent. Ludwika is smoking her Camels and talking to several young journalists who are ogling her, enraptured. Fosco and Sargent Shriver are entertaining a group of guests with a boisterous, lighthearted debate on the merits of Italian versus French cuisine, though they agree that both are superior to Greek. The nannies have brought the eight children to be paraded around before bedtime. All Cosmo wants to do is clutch your hand and “help” you navigate around the living room, warning you not to step on the small, weaving Alopekis. When Mimi attempts to steal her youngest son away, he ignores her, and as she begins to make a scene you rebuke her with a harsh glare. Mimi retreats meekly. She has never argued with you, not once in over two years. You speak for Aemond, and Aemond is a god.

As the children are herded off to their beds by the nannies, Bobby Kennedy—presently serving as a New York senator despite residing primarily on his family’s compound in Massachusetts—approaches to congratulate Aemond. His wife Ethel is a tiny, nasally, scrappy but not terribly bright woman, five months pregnant with her eleventh child, and you have to get away from her like a hand pulled from a hot stove.

“You know, I was considering running,” Bobby says to Aemond, chuckling, good-natured. “But when I saw you get in the race, I thought better of it! Maybe I’ll give it a go in ’76, huh?”

“Hey, kid, what a tough year you’ve had,” Ethel tells you, patting your forearm. You can’t tear your eyes from her small belly. She has ten living children already. I couldn’t keep one. What kind of sense does that make? “We’re real sorry for your trouble, aren’t we, Bobby?”

Now he is nodding somberly. “We are. We sure are. We’ve been praying for you both.”

Aemond is thanking them, sounding touched but entirely collected. You manage some hurried response and then excuse yourself. Your hands are shaking as you cross the room, not really seeing it. You walk right into Lady Bird Johnson. She takes pity on you; she seems to perceive how rattled you are. “Oh Lyndon, look, it’s just who we were hoping to speak to! The next first lady of the United States. And how beautiful you are, just radiant. How do you keep your hair so perfect? That glamorous updo. You never have a single strand out of place.” Lady Bird lays a palm tenderly on your bare shoulder. She has an unusual, angular face, but a wise sort of compassion that only comes from suffering. Her husband is an unrepentant serial cheater. “I’ll make you a list of everything you need to know about the White House. All the quirks of the property, and the hidden gems too!”

“You’re so kind. We’ll see what happens in November…”

“Good evening, ma’am,” President Johnson says, smiling warmly. He’s an ugly man, but there’s something hypnotic that lives inside him and shines through his eyes like the blaze of a lighthouse. He pulls you in through the dark, through the storm; he promises you answers to questions you haven’t thought of yet. LBJ is 6’4 and known for bullying his political adversaries with the so-called “Johnson Treatment”; he leans in and makes rapid-fire demands until they forget he’s not allowed to hit them. “I have to tell you frankly, I don’t envy anyone who inherits that den of rattlesnakes in Washington D.C.”

“Lyndon, don’t frighten her,” Lady Bird scolds fondly.

“Everyone thinks they know what to do about Vietnam,” LBJ plods onwards. “But it’s a damned if you do, damned if you don’t clusterfuck. If you keep fighting, they call you a murderer. But if you pull the troops out and South Vietnam falls to the communists, every single man lost was for nothing, and you think the families will stand for that? Their kid in a body bag, or his legs blown off, or his brain scrambled? There’s no easy answer. It’s a goddamn bitch of a quagmire.”

Lady Bird offers you a sympathetic smirk. Sorry about all this unpleasantness, she means. When he gets himself worked up, I can’t stop him. But you find yourself feeling sorry for President Johnson. It will be difficult for him to learn how to fade into disgraced obscurity after once being so omnipotent, so beloved. Reinvention hurts like hell: fevers raging, bones mending, healing flesh that itches so ferociously you want to claw it off.

LBJ gives Lady Bird a look, quick but meaningful. She acquiesces. This has happened a thousand times before. “It was so nice talking to you, dear,” she tells you, then crosses the living room to pay her respects to Alicent.

The president steps closer, looming, towering. The Johnson Treatment?? you think, but no; he isn’t trying to intimidate you. He’s just curious.

“Do you know what Aemond’s plan is for ‘Nam?” LBJ asks, eyes urgent, voice low. “I’m sure he has one. He’s sworn to end the draft as soon as he gets into office, but how is he going to make sure the South Vietnamese can fend off the North themselves? We’re trying to train the bastards, but if we left they’d fold in months. It would be the first war the U.S. ever lost. Does he understand that?”

“He doesn’t really discuss it with me.” That’s true; you know his policies, but only because they are a constant subject of conversation within the family, something you all breathe like oxygen.

“We can’t let Nixon win,” LBJ continues. “It’s mass suicide to leave the country in his hands. The man can’t hold his liquor anymore, getting robbed by Kennedy in ’60 broke something in him. He gets sloshed and shoves his aids around, makes up conspiracies in his head. He’s a paranoid little prick. He’ll surveille the American people. He’ll launch a nuke at Moscow.”

You honestly don’t know what he expects you to say. “I’ll pass the message along to Aemond.”

“People love you, Mrs. Targaryen.” LBJ watching you closely. “Believe it or not, they used to love me too. But I still remember how to play the game. You’re the only reason Aemond is leading the polls in Florida. You can get him other states too. Jack needed Jackie. Aemond needs you. And you’ve had tragedies, and that’s a damn shame. But don’t you miss an opportunity. You take every disappointment, every fucked up cruelty of life and find a way to make it work for you. You pin it to your chest like a goddamn medal. Every single scar makes you look more mortal to those people going to the ballot box in November. You want them to be able to see themselves in you. It helps the mansions and the millions go down smoother.”

“President Johnson!” Aegon says as he saunters over, huge mocking grin. He thumps a closed fist against the Texan’s broad chest; the Secret Service agents standing ten feet away observe this sternly. “How thoughtful of you to be here, taking time out of your busy schedule, squeezing us in between war crimes.”

“The mayor of Trenton,” LBJ jabs.

“The butcher of Saigon.”

Now the president is no longer amused. “You’ve never accomplished anything in your whole damn life, son. Your obituary will be the size of a postage stamp. I’m looking forward to reading it someday soon.” He leaves, rejoining Lady Bird at the opposite end of the room.

You frown at Aegon, disapproving. You’re dressed in a sparkling, royal blue gown that Aemond chose. “That was unnecessary.”

Aegon is wearing an ill-fitting green shirt—half the buttons undone—khaki pants, and tan moccasins. “I just did you a favor.”

“What happened to your new girlfriend? Shouldn’t she be getting railed in your basement right now? Did she have a prior commitment? Did she have a spelling test to study for? Those can be tricky, such complex words. Juvenile. Inappropriate. Infidelity.”

“You know what he brags about?” Aegon says, meaning LBJ. “That he’s fucked more women by accident than John F. Kennedy ever did on purpose.”

“That sounds…logistically challenging.”

“He’s a lech. He’s a freak. He tells everyone on Capitol Hill how big his cock is. He takes it out and swings it around during meetings.”

“And that’s all far less than admirable, but he’s not going to do something like that around me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s not an idiot,” you say impatiently. “He was perfectly civil. And I was getting interesting advice.”

Aegon rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry I crashed your cute little pep talk with Lyndon Johnson, the most hated man on the planet.”

“I guess you can’t stop Aemond from touching me, so you have to terrorize LBJ instead.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Aegon hisses, and his venom stuns you. And now you’re both trapped: you loosed the arrow, he proved you hit the mark. He’s flushing a deep, mortified red. Your guts are twisting with remorse.

“Aegon, wait, I didn’t mean—”

He whirls and storms off, shoving his way through the crowd. People glare at him as they clutch their glasses and plates, sighing in that What else do you expect from the worthless son? sort of way. You’re still gaping blankly at the place where Aegon stood when Aemond finds you, snakes a hand around the back of your neck, and whispers through the painstakingly-arranged wisps of hair that fall around your ear: “Follow me.”

It’s not a question. It’s a command. You trail him through the living room, into the foyer, and through the front door, not knowing what he wants. Outside the moon is a sliver; the light from the main house makes the stars hard to see. “Aemond, you’ll never believe the conversation I just had with LBJ. He really unloaded, I think the stress is driving him insane. I have to tell you what he said about—”

“Later.” And this is jarring; Aemond doesn’t put anything before strategy. He grabs your hand as he turns into Helaena’s garden, and only then do you understand what he wants. Instinctively, your legs lock up and your feet stop moving. Aemond tugs you onward. He wants it to be like the very first time. He intends to start over with you, the dawning of a new age in the dead of night.

Hidden in the circle of hedges, he takes your face roughly in his hands and kisses you, drinks you down like a vampire, consumes you like wildfire. But your skull echoes with panic. I don’t want him touching me. I don’t want another child with him. “Aemond…”

He doesn’t hear you, or acts like he doesn’t, or mistakes it for a murmur of desire, or chooses to believe it is. He has you down on the grass under the vengeful gaze of Zeus, the fountain splashing, the sounds of the house a low foreign drone. He yanks off your panties, but he doesn’t want you naked like he always did before. He pushes the hem of your shimmering cobalt gown up to your hips and unbuckles his trousers. And you realize as he’s touching you, as he’s easing himself into you: He doesn’t want to have to look at my scar.

You can’t ignore him, you can’t pretend it’s not happening. He’s too big for that. It’s a biting fullness that demands to be felt. So you kiss him back, and knot your fingers in his short hair like you used to, and try to remember the things you always said to him before. And when Aemond is too absorbed to notice, you look away from him, from the statue of Zeus, and peer up into the stone face of Athena instead: the goddess who never married and who knows the answer to every question.

“I love you,” Aemond says when it’s over, marveling at the slopes of your face in the dim ethereal light. “Everything will be right again soon. Everything will be perfect.”

You conjure up a smile and nod like you believe him.

“What did LBJ say?”

“Can I tell you later tonight? After the party, maybe? I just need a few minutes.”

“Of course.” And now Aemond pretends to be patient. He buckles his belt and returns to the main house, his blood coursing with the possibilities only you can make real, his skin damp with your sweat.

For a while—ten minutes, twenty minutes—you lie there on the cool grass wondering what it was like for all those mortals and nymphs, being pinned down by Zeus and then having Hera try to kill them afterwards, raising ill-fated reviled bastards they couldn’t help but love. What is heaven if the realm of the immortals is so cruel? Why does the god of justice seem so immune to it?

When at last you rise and walk back towards the house, you find Mimi at the edge of the garden. She’s on her knees and retching into a rose bush; she’s cut her face on the thorns, but she hasn’t noticed yet. She’s groaning; she seems lost.

You reach for her, gripping her bony shoulders. “Mimi, here, let’s get you upstairs…”

“No,” she blubbers, tears streaming down her scratched cheeks. “Just go away. Leave me.”

“Mimi—”

“No!” she roars, a mournful hemorrhage as she slaps your hands until you release her.

“You don’t have to be this way,” you tell her, distraught. “You can give up drinking. We’ll help you, me and Fosco and Ludwika. You can start over. You can be healthy and present again, you can live a real life.”

Mimi stares up at you, her grey eyes glassy and bloodshot but with a vicious, piercing honesty. “My husband hates me. My kids don’t know I exist. What the hell do I have to be sober for?”

You weren’t expecting this. You don’t know what to say. “We can help make the world better.”

“The world would be better without me in it.”

Then Mimi curls up on the grass under the rose bush, and stays there until you return with Fosco to drag her upstairs to her empty bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next afternoon, you’re lying on a lounge chair by the pool. Tomorrow the family will leave Asteria and embark upon a vigorous campaign schedule that will continue, with very few breaks, until Election Day on Tuesday, November 5th. The children are splashing and shrieking in the pool with Fosco, but you aren’t looking at them. You’re staring across the sun-drenched emerald lawn at the Atlantic Ocean. You’re envisioning all the bones and splinters of sunken ships that must litter the silt of the abyss; you’re thinking that it’s a graveyard with no headstones, no memory. Your swimsuit is a red one-piece. Your eyes are shielded by large black Ray Bans aviator sunglasses. Your gaze flicks up to the cloudless blue sky, where all the stars and planets are invisible.

Jupiter has nearly a hundred moons; the largest four were discovered by Galileo in 1610. Europa is a smooth white cosmic marble with a crust of ice, beautiful, immaculate. Ganymede, the largest moon in our solar system and the only satellite with its own magnetic field, is rumored to have a vast underground saltwater ocean that may contain life. Callisto is dark and indomitable, riddled with impact craters; because of her dynamic atmosphere and location beyond Jupiter’s radiation belts, she is considered the best location for possible future crewed missions to the Jovian system. But Io is a wasteland. She has no water and no oxygen. Her only children are 400 active volcanoes, sulfur plumes and lava flows, mountains of silicate rock higher than Mount Everest, cataclysmic earthquakes as her crust slips around on a mantle of magma. Her daily radiation levels are 36 times the lethal limit for humans. If Hades had a home in our corner of the galaxy, it would be Io. She glows ruby and gold with barren apocalyptic fury. You can feel yourself turning poisonous like she is. You can feel your skin splitting open as the lava spills out.

Aegon trots out of the house—red swim trunks, cheap red plastic sunglasses, no shirt, a beach towel slung around his neck, flip flops—and kicks your chair. “Get up. We’re going sailing.”

“I don’t want to talk to anybody.”

“Great, because I’m not asking you to talk. I’m telling you to get in my boat.”

You don’t reply. You don’t think you can without your voice cracking. Aegon crouches down beside your chair and pushes your sunglasses up into your Brigitte Bardot-inspired hair so he can see your face. Your eyes are pink, wet, desperately sad. Deep troubled grooves appear in his forehead as he studies you. Gently, wordlessly, he pats your cheek twice and lowers your sunglasses back over your eyes. Then he stands up again and offers you his hand.

“Let’s go,” Aegon says, softly this time. You take his hand and follow him down to the boathouse.

Five vessels are currently kept there. Aegon’s sailboat is a 25-foot Wianno Senior sloop, just roomy enough for a few passengers. He’s had it since long before you married into the Targaryen family. It is white with hand-painted gold accents; the name Sunfyre adorns the stern. He unmoors the boat, pushes it out into the open water, and raises the sails.

You glide eastbound over the glittering crests of waves, slowly at first, then faster as the sails catch the wind. Aegon has one hand on the rudder, the other grasping the ropes. And the farther you get from shore, the smaller Asteria seems, and the Targaryen family, and the presidential election, and the United States itself. Now all that exists is this boat: you, Aegon, the squawking gulls, the school of mackerel, the ocean. The sun beats down; the breeze rips strands of your hair free. The battery-powered record player is blasting White Room by Cream. When you are far enough from land that no journalists would be able to get a photo, Aegon takes two joints and his Zippo out of the pocket of his swim trunks. He puts both joints between his lips, lights them, and passes you one. Then he stretches out beside you on the deck, gazing up at the September sky.

You ask as your muscles unravel and your thoughts turn light and easy to share: “Why did you bring me out here?”

“So you can drown yourself,” Aegon says, and you both laugh. “Nah. I used to go sailing all the time when I was a teenager. It always made me feel better. It was the only place where I could really be alone.”

You consider the math. “Wow. You haven’t been a teenager since before I was in kindergarten.”

“It’s weird to think about. You don’t seem that young.”

“Thanks, I guess. You don’t seem that old.”

“Maybe we’re meeting in the middle.” He inhales deeply and then exhales in a rush of smoke. “What do you think, should I get an earring?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“It might shock Otto so bad it kills him.”

“I’ll get two.” And then Aegon says: “It’s not cool for you to mock me.”

You are dismayed; you didn’t mean to hurt him. “I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were. You were mocking me. You mocked me about the receipt under my ashtray, and then you mocked me again last night. I’m up for a lot of things, but I can’t handle that. Okay?”

“Okay.” You turn your head so you can see him: shaggy blonde hair, stubble, perpetual sunburn, the softness of his belly and his chest, flesh you long to vanish into like rain through parched earth. “Aegon?”

He looks over at you. “Io?”

“I don’t want Aemond to touch me either.”

He’s surprised; not by what you feel, but because you’ve said it aloud, a treason like Prometheus giving mankind the gift of fire. “What are we gonna do about it?”

If you were the goddess of wisdom, maybe you’d know.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x you #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii fic

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lynxindisguise · 20 hours

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officially proposing a new group called the ravenclaw radicals: pandora, xeno, kingsley, and dorcas

#they’re like 3-7 years older than the marauders #i’m only half kidding #have to save pandora and dorcas from this slytherin skittles nonsense #they would not be friends with death eaters you all are killing me

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sophsicle · 3 hours

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hello beautiful world it is 7 am on Monday morning and I have already had a good cry about Orpheus and Eurydice SO no idea where this day is going but it feels chaotic

#love always looks back #love always turns around #what if they need me #what if they’re lost #what if they were never there at all #I cannot walk out of hell without you sweetheart #he looks back because he loves her #how is he supposed to know when he’s out of the dark if he can’t see her #just kill me actually #soph rambles

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envysparkler · 2 days

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Of all the people Bruce expects to see on his doorstep on a Sunday morning, Talia al Ghul is very, very low on the list. Frankly, he’s surprised she bothered to knock.

“Oh,” Talia says, lips pursing in disappointment as he looms in the doorway, “it’s you.” She rocks on her heels, like she’s attempting to peer around him.

“This is my house,” Bruce says, half-offended and half-bewildered. She’s not alone, there’s a child scowling up at him—they’re making League assassins smaller and smaller these days—but Bruce ignores him and focuses on the greater threat. “I’ve already told Ra’s al Ghul that Gotham is off-limits—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, this isn’t about him,” Talia waves him off and saunters forward, stepping over the threshold and into the house like it belongs to her. The child follows her, only pausing to sneer at Bruce, and Bruce is left standing on his porch, thoroughly dismissed.

Talia always did have a way of getting what she wanted, and damn anything in her way. It takes a moment for Bruce to shake the old, lingering fondness and remember that a deadly assassin is inside his house.

Alfred is going to kill him.

“Wait! Talia!” He catches up to her near the kitchen, where she is surveying the cereal boxes on the counter with palpable distaste. The child looks like he’s trying to test them for poison, or possibly poison them himself, but Bruce doesn’t have time to worry about that, because she’s found—

“Uh, Bruce?” Tim’s voice cracks high, out of his chair and holding both his cereal bowl and his spoon ready to throw. “Did you forget to tell me you had company?”

“Timothy Drake,” Talia says, cold enough to create icicles. She studies him for a long moment, skipping from his Superboy pajamas to his bleary face to the overfull mug of coffee on the table. “You are one of Lady Shiva’s.”

The child’s scowl deepens.

“Yes?” Tim looks at Bruce desperately, like it’s a test and he’s looking for the answer. Bruce shrugs.

“She mentioned you were passable,” Talia sniffs. “For a boy.”

Tim looks a mixture of outraged and pleased, but Bruce is more concerned with why Talia is here, standing in his home years after she gave back his mother’s ring. Talia only reveals whatever she wants to reveal, and while she does only ever tells the truth, she lets him draw incorrect conclusions from those truths all on his own. It means Ra’s isn’t involved in whatever brought her here, but that could mean anything from the old schemer being dead to Talia being on the run, and Bruce is not nearly awake for an imminent League invasion.

“Where’s Alfred?” Talia finally finishes her survey of the kitchen and rests her cool gaze on him.

That would be the reason Bruce is barely awake. He only managed to drag himself from bed with the reminder that there was an unsupervised teenager in his house. Unfortunately, he’d got there too late to save the coffeemaker.

“What do you want with Alfred?” Tim asks, on the verge of hostile. The child draws himself up like a hissing, spitting snake, and only stays still by virtue of Talia’s hand on his shoulder. Talia, for her part, merely looks inconvenienced.

“Well, this would’ve been several times simpler had he been here,” she sighs. “I could’ve dropped off Damian for a spot of tea and gotten on with my business.”

“And what is your business?” Bruce presses.

Talia heaves another sigh—this time dramatic and put upon. It’s an act, Bruce can tell, but that doesn’t help him, not when Talia turns to him and widens her eyes, looking up through her lashes. “Unfortunately, Beloved, your son takes after you in terms of vanishing skills, and I’ve finally managed to track him down here, so I really must get going before he infiltrates that sorry excuse of a prison and finishes decapitating that clown you keep alive for some unfathomable reason.”

There’s a lot packed into that statement, and Bruce is still untangling ‘your son takes after you in terms of vanishing skills’ with the knowledge that Nightwing is supposed to be safely inside Bludhaven and the growing horror that Dick might’ve accidentally started a war with the League of Assassins, so it’s Tim that inhales first, staring at the child in sharp shock and then up at Talia, before finally turning towards Bruce.

“You have a kid with Talia al Ghul?!”

~#~

Talia, of course, does not bother to explain anything. She merely instructs the child—Damian—to behave before vanishing back out the front door, and Bruce’s attempt to follow her is met with a katana and a high-pitched demand for a duel. It becomes apparent that Talia’s version of behaving doesn’t match Bruce’s, because it takes several minutes and one shallowly bleeding slice before Bruce can extricate himself.

The child—his child—Damian leaves him alone then, looking disappointed in his swordsmanship skills, and turns instead to badgering Tim, who despite favoring a bo staff—“a clearly inferior weapon unsuited to anything but sloppy pulverization,” comes out crisp and clear-edged, much like Bruce himself when he was younger and his only point of reference was Alfred—is judged a suitable opponent on the basis of Lady Shiva’s reference.

Bruce is maybe a little sulky that a child—his child—has dismissed him in favor of a teenager with a pillow crease on his cheek, but he suppresses the emotion to dart to the Batcomputer so he can ask Nightwing what the hell he’s been up to.

Unfortunately, Dick’s response is both confused and irritated, which means Bruce has to waste time explaining the situation lest his eldest give him the silent treatment again, and Dick signs off with a promise to drop by, clearly excited at the prospect of a new sibling.

Bruce doesn’t warn him that this one is more apt to stab him than hug him. Dick can figure that out for himself.

But with that distraction out of the way, he’s left to ruminate on Talia’s words. She wasn’t talking about Dick, and clearly not about Tim, and not Damian, and Bruce has no other sons. The thought drives a pang through him, a loss he will always carry, and he finds himself in front of the case with Jason’s uniform, as though it can help him solve the puzzle.

Is there another child out there he doesn’t know about? He’d swear that he doesn’t have another with Talia, but he has no idea when or how Damian was conceived, so it’s the most likely explanation.

#my snippets #bruce is so confused #all part of talia's plan #meanwhile jason is off having fun! with! explosives!#(and clowns)

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justmeinadaze · 3 days

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Secret Underneath Part 4 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: I did update the Ko-Fi so now you can just donate whatever you can if you would like to :)

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Warnings: Older (Mid thirties) Sugar Daddies Steve and Eddie/ Young (Early to mid 20s) Baby Fem Plus Size Reader, SMUT, light choking, spanking, DIRTY TALK, hair pulling, etc. FLUFF, they like her :).

ANGST, readers ex is a dick and tries to show off (boys put him in his place ;) ), mentions of their ex with some more details of what happened, reader mentions missing them when they are away, SLIGHT cliffhanger ending but nothing too dramatic, mentions of how their life style could affect her.

Word Count: 6457

Series here

You weren’t sure how you would feel when Eddie and Steve were away on business trips. You expected to miss them terribly and you absolutely did but what surprised you was how much you were missed in return.

One evening you got a message saying that a car was going to pick you up from work that Friday and the next thing you knew you were being driven to an airport where a private jet dropped you off at Steve’s hotel where you were met with a big grin and a fancy dinner.

“Steve, this is too much.”

“Not to me.”, he beamed as he pulled you into his embrace and rested his head on top of yours. “I just needed to see your face.”

“Aw, did you miss me, Daddy?”, you coo making him chuckle.

“I always miss you when you aren’t with us, pretty girl.”

Another weekend, the same driver and jet coordinated to drop you off at the back of a packed amphitheater where a big overly muscled security guy guided you backstage, where Eddie waived at you like a little kid, his long hair bouncing behind him as he ran to hug you and lift you off your feet.

“You’re here! Ah I missed you, sweetheart, so much.”

“I missed you to.”, you giggle.

“After the show, the guys and I were going to relax, order some beers, and a pizza. Made me think of you so I thought you’d want to join.”

“I’d love to as long as I’m not an inconvenience or anything.”

“Hey.”, he scolds, grabbing your chin firmly. “Don’t ever let me hear you say that again. You are never an inconvenience, baby girl.”

Even though they were only gone for a week or two at most, they always fucked you like they hadn’t seen you in one or two years.

Steve’s heavy pants filled your ears as his head hung to the side of your own and your fingers tangle in his hair as your other hand clings to his shoulder. His hips thrust his cock slowly into your cunt, hitting that sensitive spot inside you roughly.

“Fuck.”

“Come on, honey. Give Daddy one more.”

“I-I can’t.”

Lifting his head, his nose grazed the tip of your own as he ever so slightly pumped into you at a faster rhythm.

“Yes, you can, Y/N. Fuck, you feel so good. Cum on Daddy’s cock, baby. That’s it. My good girl.”

You and Eddie drunkenly laugh as the lamp by his bed falls to the floor as he stumbles into his bedside table trying to keep his lips on yours. Shoving you against the wall, you groan as he grinds his lower half between your legs and hooks his arm under your knee to lift one around his waist.

You fumble with his belt desperate to feel him as his wet kisses trail down your neck and his tongue runs along your skin. He mewls when your soft palm wraps around his length before guiding it into your sex. As you clung to him, he rolled his hips roughly relishing the sound of your moans as your breath warms his flesh.

“Jesus, listen to that little pussy taking Daddy’s cock. You’re so fucking wet.”

“Y-You looked so fucking sexy on stage playing your—mmm—guitar. Couldn’t stop…staring at your…fingers.”

Eddie’s thick digits slide into your mouth and your pussy clenches around him at the feeling.

“You like my fingers and how they move, sweetheart” Again, you tighten around his cock and he growls as he pumps into you faster slamming his cock deeper inside you. “Fuck, Y/N, they’re all yours, babe. Only yours.”

After you came back home, you immediately felt their absence and it killed you but this is what you signed up for so you never said a word. You remained silent when a couple of days would go by without hearing from them because they were extremely busy.

“Hey, baby. Why are you still at school?”, Steve asked as his voice flowed from your computer. They had both been gone this time for a little over a week and unlike other times hadn’t sent for you to come see them. They did explain that this particular trip was supposed to be a big deal for them both.

Steve was working on new deal that would help him get recognized globally so he could expand further and Eddie wasn’t touring per say but doing the talk show circuit with his bandmates to campaign for the Grammy he personally couldn’t care less about. Even as they spoke to you, the mogul was at his desk in the hotel room flipping through documents and the rockstar looked like he was smoking on the roof of a radio station.

“I’m doing some work here, you know. Grading some papers and things like that.”

“Hm.”

“Yeah…I hear it to, Ed.”

“Hear what?”

“You’re hiding something.”, he chuckles. “Why don’t you want to go home?”

A heavy exhale leaves your lips as you lean back in your chair.

“I’ve gotten used to you being there and when you’re not… it just feels empty.” They softly smile at your admission and suddenly you can’t seem to stop yourself as the words begin to flow. “My apartment also doesn’t really have a lot of your stuff, you know? It’s like when you’re gone, you disappear completely. Add in the fact that you have to pretend like I’m not yours so I see girls touch you and flirt… I hear you tell reporters you’re single which…I guess you are but…”

“Y/N, sweetheart—”

Eddie’s voice in your ear is interrupted when someone loudly knocks on your door making you jump.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Holden. You scared me.”

“I scared you? Pretty much everyone has gone home. Why are you still here? Who are you talking to? You’re new boyfriend?”

“None of your fucking business. We had a deal. Get out of my classroom and leave me alone before I give you another black eye.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see both men had completely stopped what they were doing to focus on you, realizing now you were talking to ex.

“You always did like it rough, babe.”

“I’m not your ‘babe’ or ‘baby’.”

“Hm but I’m always going to be your Daddy, sweetie.” You weren’t sure if your ex could feel it but you definitely did through the screen as Eddie and Steve’s anger radiated through. “Look, calm down, I just heard your voice and came by to ask if you were going to the faculty thing tomorrow?”

You glared at him with equally annoyed eyes making him chuckle sarcastically.

“I’m just asking because I’d love to meet your new man. Maybe exchange some stories—”

“Like how you’re so desperate for attention, you physically hurt me, put a picture of us in a book I borrowed, and are now here puffing up your chest like a peacock, you fucking idiot? Trust me, you have never nor will you ever be MY Daddy. The men—man—I’m with showed me what having that title actually means.”

“Hm, well they, I mean he, will learn how much of a pain in the ass you are and you’ll come crawling back, Y/N. You always do. Why even bother hiding it if you have multiple men in your life. You were also always a bit of a freak. It’s unfortunate, unlike myself, most men can’t handle a woman with your…proportions. Have a good night, honey.”

Your eyelids flutter slightly at his passing insult as he walks away.

“What’s the faculty thing?”

You jumped when Eddie’s voice roughly pulled through your earbuds.

“We’re doing a costume party at the school for Halloween since the actual holiday is on a school day.”, you answer with a crack in your voice you try to hide. “I’m sorry.”

“What on earth do you have to be sorry for, baby?”

“I just… I feel like he wasn’t only being a dick to me but you guys.”

“Look at us, sweetheart.” When you do as your told, you take in there still seemingly agitated demeanors even though their eyes reflect nothing but care for you. “You are absolutely right, he was. But you were also right about the fact that we know the true meaning of the word Daddy when it comes to you. All that matters to us is how you’re feeling.”

“I’m going to send Thomas to come get you, Y/N—”

“You can’t. It’s another reason he was coming in here to stir up trouble. He already knew I was going to the party. I have to…we all do… I wish you could come with me.”

“We can. We may be fashionably late but—”

“No, no Steve. This trip is extremely important for you two. I’ll be ok, trust me. I can handle one asshole.”

##################

You grin as you watch you teacher friends dance out on the floor as you sip from the red cup in your hand. You had sent the guys a picture of you in your white angel costume knowing Steve would love the white high heels and Eddie would go crazy over the relatively short spaghetti strap dress but neither man responded.

Assuming they were busy with work, you made sure to keep them updated, letting them know when you got to the school and that you were safe.

“Y/N, come on! Dance with us!”

Placing your drink in the trash, you sauntered over to your friend, laughing as you allowed yourself to let go and have fun. As the music began to slow and people paired off, you shuffled to the side, taking a seat in one of the empty chairs to look through your messages.

The seats on either side of you suddenly became occupied but you didn’t think anything of it until one of the strangers spoke directly to you.

“Beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be distracted by her phone.”

“Hm. Thankfully I’m my own woman and I don’t answer to you so…”

“Technically, princess, you do unless you decided you don’t want us anymore.”

Your head abruptly lifted, your eyes coming face to face with a handsome devil in a red mask. His long hair was pulled into a ponytail held back by devil horns and his matching red suit had you salivating as it clung perfectly to his frame.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?”, you whisper. “You had an interview tonight!”

“You’re more important than a meeting and an interview.”

Swiveling towards the other voice, you took in Steve’s all black suit with an equally colored mask and horns as well.

“So, angel, you wanna dance?”

Grinning, you nod your head and take his hand as he rises and leads you to the dance floor where he places his palms on your waist while you put your own on his shoulders.

“Steve, you really didn’t have to come here.”

“I know we didn’t have to. Remember, baby, we never do anything we don’t want to do. Plus, you’ve been coming to meet us these past couple of months, we wanted to show you that we can do the same.”

“Really? I think Daddy was just jealous.”, you giggle.

“Yes and no.” Your smile grows as he spins you before pulling you back to his chest where you rest your head. “The fact that this fucker thinks you still belong him did spike those feelings but it was more the fact that he had the audacity to disrespect you and hurt you.”

“He didn’t hurt me.”

Strong fingers grip your chin forcing you to look up at him.

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

“I can handle it.”, you murmur.

“I know you can. It’s one of the many reasons we like you but, honey, what we’re telling you is you don’t haveto.”

Tilting up on your toes, you kiss his lips as he smiles against them.

“Do you, um, do you guys want to see my room?”

***

“Look at you, you nerd.”, Eddie teases as he points to your bookshelf full of the usual English books you would see on a reading list.

“Said the Dungeons and Dragons geek.”, you jest making him throw a wink your way. “The school district requires they read one ‘English’ book a semester and write a report. A lot of these kids struggle financially so I try to make it easy where I can.”

“Who’s this? Your parents?”, Steve asks as he holds up a framed photo you have on your desk.

“Yeah, that’s my mom and my dad. This right here is my best friend since grade school. She’s still in my hometown but we talk as much as we can.”

“Seems like you gave up a lot to come up here with…Holden?...was it?”

“I told you I was stupid.”

The rockstar smiles as walks over to you and lifts you up onto your desk.

“You weren’t stupid, sweetheart. You were in love and hopeful. We get that.”

Your head slightly hangs as you glide your hands down his arms to hold his hands while your silent question hovers in the atmosphere.

“Yes.”, Steve answers before he jumps up on to the desk to sit beside you. “We did love her…Gina. We’re still trying to figure out if there was ever a point where she loved us back.”

“With how it all ended, we’re thinking no but…”, Eddie shrugs.

“How long were you together?”

“Officially? On and off for 2 years, I think. Right, Harrington?”

“Yeah, but we were friends before that. We met her at a film screening for one of her mom’s movies a few years prior. She could be a bit of a brat but she didn’t have a kind heart like you.”, he grins as he reaches for your hand and intertwines his fingers with your own. “She could never really turn it off. She was rude to everyone and that nepotism leaked out constantly.”

“What made you leave?”

“It was a couple of things but the main one being her cheating with some twenty something football quarterback. Paparazzi caught her in the back of his jeep and plastered the image everywhere. She had the audacity to run to us after to see if we could make it go away.”, Eddie sighed as he stepped forward and rested his head on your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I would never do anything like that. I can be a bit of bitch when I need to but—”

The rockstar’s lips cut you off for a brief moment before you wrap your arms around him and hug him to your chest.

“We trust you, Y/N. That’s why we’re trying to be more open and let you in.”

You wished you could pause this moment and revel in it for a long while with you tangled in both their arms. You felt so safe with them which is something you had been desperately looking to attain for a long while even when you were with your ex. After you moved away from everything you knew, you struggled to find your footing and Holden didn’t make it easy. You always felt like you were falling through the cracks which strengthened you own resolve but you were tired. With these two men here, you could finally feel safe letting go.

“Wow, when I said multiple men, Y/N, I didn’t think you’d have them at one time.”, Holden echoed sarcastically as he leaned in the doorframe of your classroom.

As they turned to look at him, they took a few seconds to take him in before Eddie loudly cackled as a wide toothy grin painted Steve’s features. Your ex was dressed like the front man of one of his favorite bands, Corroded Coffin, but it was very haphazardly put together.

“Oh my god. Sorry, man. I can’t wait to show Gareth this. He’s going to flip shit when he sees how assholes perceive him.” Eddie continues to laugh as he takes a picture with his phone.

“So you are thee Holden?”, the mogul asks as he sizes up the man in front of him.

“I am and I don’t appreciate the condescension.”

“Well, we don’t appreciate the way you treat and talk to Y/N so we’ll call it even. We’ve actually been dying to meet you. We heard what you said yesterday about still being this beautiful woman’s Daddy.”

“Oh, you heard that huh? Good. Trust me, boys, you can’t handle a little brat like her.”

“Is that why you put your hands on her?”

“Please. I don’t know what she told you but I know her. She’s a needy thing that likes it a lot rougher than most girls.”, he shrugs.

Steve sarcastically smiles turning towards Eddie who does the same.

“See, Holden, there’s a few problems with that. The first being, that little one there…she’s ours. You put your hands on something that doesn’t belong to you.” The mogul moves out of the way as the rockstar’s fist flies, hitting your ex in the nose before grabbing him and shoving him to the ground. “Secondly, she does like it rough but she consents to that with us. She told you no and, Holden, no means no. Can you say that for me?”

“Fuck you, dick!”

This time Steve’s the one that punches him.

“Try again.”

It takes a couple more smacks before he finally submits.

“No means no! Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“We know, bud. Come on now. On your feet. Good boy.”, Eddie responds calmly as he guides the man to a standing position clinging to his collar. “But we aren’t the ones you should be apologizing to.” Shoving him in front of you, they wait for him to continue and when he doesn’t the rockstar’s ringed hand smacks the back of his head. “Go on, dumbass. Geez, what did you see him?”

You smirk as your eyes narrow playfully in his direction.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Y/N.”

As Holden glances towards Steve, the man rolls his eyes as he gives him a keep going motion with his hand.

“Um, I’m sorry for hurting you on our date and calling you a whore. I, uh, and for bothering you at work e-e-even though we agreed I wouldn’t.”

“And?”

“And what?!”, your ex yelled sarcastically causing Eddie to push him to his knees.

“Holden, we heard you talk about her weight and from what she’s told us we know it’s not the first time.”

“I find it amusing that you seem to think most men can’t handle her ‘proportions’ yet your way is to bring her down and make her feel like she’s unattractive. That really is a shame because quite honestly she’s the most beautiful woman we’ve met and that’s without taking into account how fucking sexy her body is.” Holden’s eyes meet yours as Steve speaks. “I also think it’s interesting she seems to think she’s a brat to yet, Ed, have we experienced that side of her yet?”

“Nope. I mean she’s a bit sarcastic but I wouldn’t say bratty. More than anything she’s confident and knows what she wants. Nothing a Daddy can’t handle.”

The mogul sunk down on his heels to get on your ex’s level.

“That’s why you lost her. You, little boy, thought you could handle a woman like Y/N. MEN can handle her attitude and her proportions. Do you know why?”

“Because we don’t see it as something that needs to be handled.”, the rockstar answers for him. “We wouldn’t have her any other way.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I promise I’ll leave you be.”, Holden sighs as his head hangs.

“Good boy.”, Steve praises as they help him to his feet again and dusts off his outfit. “Come on, baby.”

He reaches for your hand and you immediately take it, walking with them towards the door before they both pause.

“Oh and Holden.” The man lifts his mask to his forehead making your ex’s eyes widen. “If you ever hurt her again, we won’t be so nice. I have some friends in high places.”

“Honestly, buddy, it’s best if you just not talk to her at all unless it involves school. Trust us, we’ll find out if you cross anymore lines.”, Eddie adds as he lifts his own mask and winks.

##################

“Where are we?”, you ask as Steve takes out a set of keys and jiggles it in the lock.

You knew they weren’t taking you home when they passed all the regular streets it took to get there but when they stopped at a building that wasn’t a hotel you became curious.

“Our place.”, he answers as he slowly opens their front door and gestures for you to enter.

They watch with amused eyes as you gradually step forward and take in their massive apartment. The living room was spacious and open with tall ceilings and large glass doors that opened to a pool on their balcony. Beyond that you were able to see the beautiful city lights that made you smile. Maneuvering down a hallway, the first room you found had to be Steve’s with the strong cologne smell that made you swoon.

There was a large bed in the corner with a small gym area he created off to the side. Your fingers ran along his suits in his closet but you were more fascinated by the polo and t-shirts you had yet to see him in. Against the wall by his window was his desk and you took in all the paperwork scattered across the wood.

A framed photo by his bed catches your eye and you pick it up, giving it a good once over before flashing it in his direction. The photo was one he had taken one of the many times you went to go visit him during his business trips. You had both been talking on the balcony of his hotel with one of his shirts wrapped around your naked frame. While you were leaning over the railing looking out into city below, he had come up behind you, wrapping his arms your waist as he kissed your cheek and snapped the image.

“You have a picture of me?”

“I have a lot of pictures of you.”

“I know I mean…”, you giggle. “You have a picture of me by your bed in a frame.”

“Yeah, of course. I like that your face is one of the last things I see before I fall asleep.”

He softly smiles your way and you feel like your heart is going to explode.

“I have one to.”, Eddie beams as he gestures across the way and you immediately head towards his room.

A wide smile painted your feature when you entered the rockstars area and were promptly hit with the smell of cigarettes and his own signature body scent. Along the walls were posters of other metal bands and guitars he had collected over the years. His floor was littered with his own clothes and on his dresser you took note of the many fantasy books you had actually begun reading so you could understood what he enjoyed.

On his bedside table there were a few photos of different people. One was of a gorgeous woman who looked exactly like him that you assumed was his mother. Another was of him with an older gentleman rolling his eyes backstage at one of their concerts wearing a Corroded Coffin t-shirt as Eddie threw his arm around him throwing up the rock n’ roll symbol with his tongue hanging out.

Beside that was his picture of you at one of the after-concert parties you attended with him and his friends. You were sitting on his lap with his arms tangled around you as his forehead rested against your cheek with you both tenderly grinning.

“We thought, maybe, we could give you our key and that way when you miss us you can come here or maybe even…I mean if you’d want to…”

“You could move in with us.”, Steve finished for his friend with as much a shake in his voice as the other. “Of course, you don’t have to but we just wanted you to know the option was there and—”

Your lips cut him off as you jumped into his arms and kissed him almost desperately. After defending you, protecting you, missing you, and showing you how much they genuinely seem to care, you needed to show them how appreciative you were and how much you felt the same.

Stumbling forward, you both fall onto Eddie’s bed, his mouth never leaving yours as he shuffles off his suit jacket and tries to unbutton his shirt before getting distracted trying to grind his lower half against your own. A mischievous chuckle emits from your lips as you take hold of his collar and rip his shirt open, your palm running up his warm, hairy chest as his moans vibrate through him.

After throwing your halo headband to the side, he does the same with his and grips your back as he rolls you on top of him. Noticing you struggle to remove your wings; Eddie comes up behind you and assists, making you smile as you tilt towards him to taste his lips. His hand clings to the back of your neck as Steve’s own begin to roam along your sides to your tits over the fabric of your dress.

Carefully the rockstar unhooks your garment and delicately lifts it over your head and the mogul immediately takes advantage of the opportunity, hastily sitting up to press his face in the valley of your breasts as he open mouth kisses your skin.

“No underwear, sweetheart? Naughty girl.”, Eddie teases as you press Steve’s head closer to you, feeling his fingers travel up to unhook your bra. “Wait, Steven.”

The man pauses as you both watch his friend scurry to quickly grab your halo and place it back on your head, beaming down at you as he gently brushes some of your hair away from your face and kisses your cheek.

“Our angel.”

After pushing Steve flat against the mattress, you fumble with his belt and unbuckle his pants as he helps you push them down his legs. A loud groan escapes his chest when you soft hand wraps around his cock and your tongue licks the precum off his tip.

“Fuck. D-Don’t tease Daddy, baby.”

“Or what?”

A ringed hand lightly but firmly comes down on your behind making you squeak and pout. Unhooking your jaw, you took him into your mouth, flattening your tongue, always remembering what they told you.

We like messy.

You whine around him when you’re spanked again but it turns into a moan when two fingers effortlessly slide into your folds.

“Atta girl. I know how much you like the way my fingers move.”, Eddie coos in a husky tone that has you clenching around him.

Steve’s hand rested on the back of your head as he guided your rhythm, grunting and groaning as you gagged around him.

“There you go, honey. Fuck, that’s it. Taking me so well down that little throat of yours. Let-Let me take over.”

After giving him the ok, his grip tightens in your hair as he thrusts his hips and his friend matches his pace. You were overwhelmed with sensations as you choked around him and your stomach began to tighten at the impending orgasm building up inside you.

Tugging on your hair, Steve leaned his forehead against yours as you panted, not needing to be told to keep stroking his cock with your hand.

“That’s it, baby girl. Fuck, are you about to cum on Daddy’s fingers?” Your big, blown out eyes locked with his as you nodded and felt his dick twitch in your hand. “You’re so fucking perfect, Y/N. We’re gonna fuck you so hard and ruin you for anyone else. Do you want that?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Yes Daddy what?”

“Yes Daddy I want you both to ruin me. Oh my god.”, you whine loudly as the coil snaps and Steve’s lips crash to yours as he swallows down your moans.

Rolling you over, he grabs your ankles and drags you till your lower half is hanging off the edge of the bed with you on your tummy. You squeak when his palm comes down hard on your behind before lifting one of your legs onto the mattress and guiding his thick cock into your core.

In this position, you felt like he was stretching you in half as he slowly but firmly pumped his hips.

“Daaaaddddy…”

Leaning over your back, his fingers gripped your jaw as his lips hovered over your ear.

“You can take it, baby. I know you can. Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” Steve fell against your shoulder and you both grunted when he delivered you a few hard thrusts practically punching the air from your lungs. “That’s a…a good girl.”

Standing to his full height, he picked up his pace as the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. You were so enthralled in the euphoria you didn’t even notice when a now naked Eddie was stroking his cock in front of you.

You tried to lift your head but you struggled which Steve noticed, slowing down to drop your leg and take hold of both your wrists to help pull you back while giving him more leverage to pound into your cunt.

“Jesus, princess. You look so drunk on his dick right now I don’t think you can handle mine.”

“Ah…no, please, Daddy. I-I-I can handle it.”

“Are you sure? It looks like you won’t have much control.”, he replies with slight mocking knowing already you don’t care.

“I trust you both.”

Smirking, he scoots himself closer to you, threading his fingers in your hair and guiding your lips around his length.

“Shit, sweetheart, you take us both so well. I think you were made for us.”

Occasionally tugging you back, Eddie allowed you to collect some air as you moaned. When he realized you were close to your climax, he cupped your jaw and stroked his cock with his hand as you licked and sucked on his balls.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna fuck you so fucking hard, you’ll be feeling me for weeks. Now that we showed that asshole who you belong to you can show him how your Daddies take care of you.”

Leaning your sweaty forehead against his upper thigh, he continued to hold you as you panted against his skin before a loud scream ripped through you and you came.

“God fucking damn it!”, Steve shouted as he folded over you and chased his high, slamming into you with rough abandon until you felt him coat your insides.

Ringed fingers petted your hair out of your face as soft kisses landed on your temple.

“Color, baby?”

“Green, Daddy. Thank you.”

“Color, Steven?!”, Eddie chuckles at the other man who falls back first onto the bed breathing heavily.

“Green…fuck…”

“Good.” Yanking you further up the bed, you giggle as he places you on your back, grinning down at you as he quickly grabs a pillow and puts it under your hips.

Tilting down, he gives you a gentle peck on the lips.

“My turn.”

Balancing on his knees, you mewl as he slides his cock into your entrance and watch as his face scrunches in pleasure. Taking ahold of your legs, he lifts them over his shoulders on either side of his neck straight in the air making your eyes roll and shut.

As his fingers dug into the meat of your waist, he clung to you as he kept his promise and pounded his length deep inside of you, hitting your sensitive spot repeatedly.

“Atta girl. Fuck, this pussy is so good. You’re just…choking my dick…baby.”

“Please, Daddy.”

“What do you need? Tell Daddy, sweetheart.”

Taking a hold of his palm, you brought his digits to your mouth and an audible groan left his chest as your tongue wet the tips.

“Touch me. Please.”

When his fingers began rubbing fast circles into your clit, you knew you wouldn’t last too much longer.

“Jesus.” Rolling his waist, his hand reached out to grip your throat and you nodded, pleading with your eyes for him to get you there. Eddie’s grunts were like music and you moaned his title as your legs began to shake and you came. Dropping your limbs, he fell on top of you, aggressively thrusting his hips to elongate your high.

“Fuck, Daddy. I need you to cum. Please…”

With your encouragement and a few more sloppy pumps, his release warmed your insides.

The rockstar couldn’t help but groan happily when your fingers started running through his hair.

“I like when you do that.”

“You make it sound like girls don’t play with your hair.”, you smile. Glancing towards Steve, your eyes widened when he shook his head. “No? Not even your fluffy head of hair?”

“Hm. Nope, honey. Just you.”

Eddie whines when his friend pokes his side, silently ushering him to get off you so they could get you clean. As you tried to get to your feet, you wobbled a bit and that was enough for the metalhead to lift you into his arms and carry you to his bathroom.

“Told you he had a big bathtub.”, the mogul teased as the other man stuck out his tongue. “Shit. We don’t really have any…”

“Girly smells?”, Eddie tries to help by finishing his sentence making you laugh.

“I don’t mind. I like smelling like you two.”

They both softly smile as they guide you in and take care of you, falling asleep as they began to dress you in some of Eddie’s clothes.

###############

When you woke up, you were slightly thrown off guard, forgetting for a moment you had spent the night with them. Shuffling out of bed, you found both men out on their patio smoking a cigarette. As they spoke you couldn’t help but visually take them in. Eddie looked incredibly comfortable in his black sweats, wild hair, and bare chest, bearing his many tattoos for all to see should anyone be looking out their window. Steve had on his boxers and a Hawkins University shirt that was tight enough that you could see almost every muscle along his upper body.

They both seemed so calm as they spoke to each other and that made you happy. With the lives they had they deserved peace and you were glad you could give that to them in some way.

“Ah ha. So the business tycoon Steven Harrington DOES smoke.”, you jest as you exit their apartment onto the balcony.

“Told you.”, Eddie chuckles as he makes room for you to sit between his legs and lean against his chest in the lawn chair he was sitting in. When his arms circled around you, you immediately felt safe.

“Y/N, we, um, we wanted to talk to you about something.” Steve’s tone made you nervous as your body visibly stiffened. “No, hey, no. It’s not bad or anything.”, he soothed as he took a seat in the chair across from you both. “We just…it’s a big step and—”

“Steve wants to know if you would like to come to an event with us next weekend.” The mogul sighed as his friend shrugged. “You were taking too long.”

“In what capacity?”, you ask.

“It, uh, wouldn’t be like as a girlfriend but, um, we don’t want you to think we don’t see you that way. It’s just…a taboo I guess that…”

“Don’t you make deals for a living?”

“Jesus! Then you tell her, Edward.”, Steve growls.

“You think of me like a girlfriend?”

Both men exchange a glance before the man in front of you tilts his head.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want to be.”

“After Gina we said we wanted to take things slow with the next girl we were intimate with but Y/N we trust you. We wouldn’t have brought you here if we didn’t.”

“Of course, because of the circumstance there are some stipulations—”

“Stipulations?”

“Yes, for example, when Gina would go out with us she and we would tell people that we were just friends.”

“Which would mean the paparazzi are going to make assumptions a lot about us and another girl we even talk to. Other women will continue to flirt and try to touch us…” Eddie cringed as he spoke and you could tell they both hated what they were telling you.

“And you would let them?”

“No. Hey fuck no. Y/N, that’s not how we are. We would tell them or anyone to fuck off but we just want you to be prepared.”

“What about me? If I’m showing up and presented as a friend…men will hit on me and touch me in front of you.”

Steve’s jaw tightened as he glared off into the New York skyline.

“You’re right, sweetheart. They will. But we just watched you tell us to fuck off when you didn’t know it was us sitting beside you. And you know any unwanted touches… we can break their fucking hands.”

“That’s not the only attention I would get either right? If people know we’re friends, they’ll pry and ask me questions about you guys. Try to get scandalous details. I may even lose some people I imagine.”

Your head hangs as you sigh before Eddie sits up and shifts you around so he can see your face.

“I’m sorry we have to keep bringing her up, Y/N, but Gina shattered, fucking SHATTERED our trust in most people. Everything you mentioned, she did and then some. She took advantage of the opportunities and made them work for her. We’ve spent almost 4 some odd months getting to know you and we trust you way more than we ever did her and we knew her for years.”

“You don’t have to do this, honey, if you aren’t comfortable. We can wait a few months and talk about this later down the line. That’s not going to change how we feel about you. You’re ours and we’re yours.”, Steve added, lifting your chin with his fingers. “Tell us what you’re thinking, baby girl.”

“What’s the event?”

“A charity thing downtown.”

“I’m a little scared. I don’t know how to be at something like that.”

Eddie smiles as he kisses your temple.

“Neither do I, sweetheart. That’s Steve’s territory.”

“Please, that’s my parent’s thing. If anything, I’m good at faking it.”, the mogul grins as he caresses your cheek. “So…do you want to come with us?”

##############

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