#and one of those times he was filling in for Eddie’s assistant | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lesservillain · 3 months

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alpha!steddie x omega!reader Part One. summary: after finding yourself in a pinch, an ad in the local paper for a paid surrogacy gig catches your attention. free food, housing, and all doctor visits covered, and all you have to do is pop a baby out for a a hot alpha couple? what could go wrong! cw: OMEGAVERSE. established steddie. smut, angst, m/m/f, anal (m receiving), daisy chain, free use kink, breeding kink, lots of unprotected piv, surrogacy, strangers to lovers, alpha x alpha relationships are considered taboo wc: 10.6k

A heavy ball of nerves filled your gut as you sat in the busy coffee shop. You sipped on your drink, eyes darting to the door every time it opened as you waited for them to show up. Them being the alpha couple that you contacted the day before.

Looking for a way to make some money in this small town that you’d decided to settle in, an ad in the classifieds caught your attention.

Wanted: Omega Surrogate for Male Alpha Couple.

It wasn’t something you’d expected to see in the Sunday paper. Hawkins came off as a more conservative town, and it was pretty common practice for people to look at male alpha and same sex beta couples a certain way.

Of all the combinations of couples in this world, most of them could produce children except for two male alphas and same sex betas which made the coupling quite the taboo. It was pretty well known that most adoptive agencies and surrogacy clinics wouldn’t assist those kinds of couples, so an ad like that isn’t uncommon, just not something you would have bet money on finding.

The ad itself seemed very enticing. The couple lived in an allegedly nice neighborhood called Loch Nora, according to the barista you’d asked. It made sense considering the couple said they would pay for all your needs like food and doctors appointments.

You were currently living in a motel while you searched for a place to live here. And the more time you spend searching, the more money you spend on food, the less you have to put down for a deposit. So the offer to have your food paid for for the next 9 months was something you weren’t about to pass up.

The bell on the coffee shop door rang again. Your eyes flicked to see two men walk in. They were both clearly alphas; tall, handsome, and their mixed scents were strong enough to reach your nose even over the strong coffee smell. They were quite the opposite of each other; the one looking like he belonged on a stage performing for a metal concert, and the other looked like he just came from a business casual style modeling gig.

Their eyes began to scan the shop and it hit you that this might be the alpha couple that’s meeting you. Butterflied erupted in your stomach at the thought of the two of them together. The omegas in this town must have all collectively cried when these two got together.

The rock star guy’s eyes caught yours first. You gave him a small wave and he perked up and returned the gesture excitedly. He bumped the model guy and pointed you out to him, saying something in his ear before the two of them made their way to you. As they got closer, the knot in your stomach got tighter. How they hell were these guys so attractive?

The model guy approached you first, saying your name like a question, as if to confirm you’re who he talked to on the phone.

“Yep, that’s me,” you say as you stand to greet them. “You must be Steve. Your voice sounds familiar.” The model guy nods, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.

“Yes, I’m Steve. And this is Eddie, my partner.” Eddie takes a step forward and extends his hand to you. You take it to shake, but as soon as your hand touches his, a shock of electricity shoots up your arm and all over your body. It was a feeling you’d never had before, and it made you pull away from him. You wondered if he felt it too by the way he looked at his hand and then to you.

“Everything okay?” Steve says, extending his hand out to you as well.

“Y-yeah, it’s fine,” Eddie says, wringing his wrist in his other hand. You nod, not sure what to say as you grab Steve’s hand to shake. But the same thing happens when you touch him as well.

“Woah,” Steve says with a laugh, pulling his hand away. “There must be a lot of static in here or something.”

“Must be,” you say as you shake your head, sitting back down in your booth seat.

The two men slide into the seats opposite of you, shoulder to shoulder like any other couple would. Steve opens the flap of his blazer, pulling out a stack of papers from it’s inner pocket and laying it on the table, attempting to flatten it with his…vary large hands.

“Okay, so,” Steve starts, running a hand through his hair. He takes a breath and looks to Eddie and then to you. Eddie’s fingers lace together on the table as his thumbs fidget nervously, is attention staying on the papers.

“This is kind of the guidelines we’ve come up with for what we’ve planned out.” Steve slides the paperwork across the table to you. “Like we said on the phone yesterday, we can negotiate some things to work better for you if you decide to go through with this. Just let us know what we might need to change and we can have our lawyer rewrite it.”

At that last sentence, you realized this was a contract. It made sense that they would want one. What if you had decided to keep the baby and run away? Not that you would. Your life was too much a mess right now to take care of a kid on your own. And you were relieved when you read that they wouldn’t abandon you with the child either.

When you went to flip the page, you could see Eddie physically shift from over the papers edge. There was a pink tint to his cheeks, his eyes downcast with…embarrassment?

“Um,” Steve clears his throat, “This next page…” He hesitates, mouth opening and closing like he can’t quite figure out what he wants to say. “We, uh, we asked for an omega specifically for a reason.”

Your eyes caught the title for the next section of the contract:

Terms of Conception.

“Terms?” You say as you begin to read on. Honestly, when they’d confirmed that they would pay for all of your doctors appointments, you’d just assumed that included the insemination appointments. They were a couple after all, one that had been together for more than 5 years now, so you’d figured there wouldn’t be any...intrusion on your part.

But that became abundantly clear that was not what they had in mind.

“We just figured it would be easier and less invasive on your end if we did things more naturally.” Steve’s tone was slightly distressed, worried that their proposal would run you off once you fully understood their terms.

‘The surrogate party agrees to stop all forms of suppressants and birth prevention measures. Heat cycles will be tracked and monitored by all parties for peak conception. Intercourse will be performed by all parties during the following days leading up to and during the peak fertility window. Due to the schedules of the donating party, said party requests that the surrogate party legally, physically, and emotionally consents to make themselves available at all times to the donating party. This includes at all hours of the day and night, as needed.’

“The consent part is really important to us, too.” Steve adds, pointing to the papers in your hands. “Obviously we want you to feel comfortable enough to tell us no, but sometimes with our jobs we don’t work set hours.” Eddie moves for the first time since you turned the page, nodding quickly in agreement to Steve’s words.

“I get it…” you say, pretending to keep reading even though you’re mind is reeling. “It’s like…free game, right?” You laugh nervously, and the two men both shift very differently where they sit. Eddie’s eyebrows go up, leaning into the table with interest in your phrasing, while Steve seems to tense up a bit, his ears turning red.

“That’s a good way to put it,” Eddie says with a nod, “We just want to make sure you’re willing to work with us. We—” Eddie looks to Steve with a smile, “We’ve been talking about this for at least a year now, and we’re really ready to take this next step.”

The way the two men look at each other in front of you makes you melt from how lovey they are. It becomes abundantly clear that, to them, this is just an obligatory step to expand their family. A means to an end for a couple that wouldn’t be able to get help any other way.

“Oh!” Steve says as if he suddenly remembered something, “This isn’t in the contract yet, but Eddie and I were talking last night when you said you were still looking for a place to live. Well, we live in a fairly big house and we think that for the sake of…convenience, for lack of a better word, that we would like you to stay with us during this whole process. It would give you plenty of time to get a feel of the town, find a place to live.”

You looked at the two men with surprise. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about asking to live with them, but you didn’t think that they would be the one offering. And all of Steve’s points made sense to you so it didn’t take long to mull it over in your mind.

“Well, I mean, as long as this isn’t some elaborate plan to murder me, then I don’t see why not.”

Steve and Eddie visibly relax, both of them laughing at your joke.

“Nah, we wouldn’t put this much effort just to kill anyone,” Eddie says with a playful jab at Steve, who shakes his head at Eddie’s antics.

“So, does that mean you’re okay with our terms? We totally understand if it’s not something you are comfortably with, and we can give you a couple of days to think about it if you need to—”

Free food, free housing, free healthcare, and all you have to do is let these two hot guys cum in you until you give them a baby?

“I’ll do it.”

It’s been two weeks since you’d moved in with Steve and Eddie. They took you to your hotel and gathered the little belongings you had and moved you in that same night into their spare bedroom on the second floor. It was directly across the hall from their bedroom, which made sense to you considering the nature of your arraignment. Why shove you all the way on the other side of the house if they were going to need easy access to you during your heat cycles?

After a bit of discussion, they told you that they didn’t want you to worry about getting a job right away. Something about it being too stressful while trying to get you pregnant? You didn’t argue, instead putting your focus on keeping the house put together for them.

They weren’t exaggerating when they said their hours were a bit all over the place work wise. Eddie recently took over ownership of the local body shop and Steve was a regional manager for Family Video after working his way up in the company. With both of them having so much responsibility, a normal person would wonder how the two of them would ever find time to be with each other.

If someone were to ask you, though, you’d tell them that you are very much aware of how often they spend time together. And that answer would be almost every night.

It was baffling how after both of them working sometimes 10 hour shifts, the both of them still had enough energy to fuck each other almost every night. Loudly, you might add. You’re not sure if they think you can’t hear them or if they’re just so used to living alone that they didn’t think about you being there while they bash their headboard into the wall for hours.

You had mixed feelings about it. Part of you wan annoyed, because it was honestly hard to sleep some nights at first. Part of you was jealous because you hadn’t gotten any since you’d broken up with your ex, and part of your contract included you not having any other partners until after conception. And because of that, part of you was frustrated.

Sure, you were contractually obligated to have sex with them, but it was ultimately on their terms. They were still a couple, and you were just there to fulfill a service. You doubted that even when the time does come that there will be much intimacy between you and the two of them.

You can take care of yourself, and there have been a couple nights where their sounds have helped you get yourself off fairly quickly. But you were getting to a point where you wish you had a toy or something to make things a little easier. You still had a little money that you didn’t spend before moving in. Maybe on a day they were both gone you could call a cab and see if this town has a sleazy sex shop that no one talks about.

“Good morning,” Eddie yawns, entering the kitchen. He was shirtless per usual, the loose plaid pajama pants slipping dangerously low on his hips as he stretched.

“Morning,” Steve greeted, eyes still on some paperwork that he was looking over from work.

“Good afternoon, Eddie,” you say with knowing smile, placing a plate in front of him where he sat next to Steve at the island.

“Shit, is it afternoon already?” Steve looked up, his glasses sitting at the end of his nose as he squinted to see the time on the stove.

“Must be Sunday,” Eddie says with a mouth full of sandwich. “It’s feels like it’s been forever since I’ve gotten to sleep in.”

“You slept in last Sunday, babe,” Steve says with a pointed look.

“Maybe I’ll go back to sleep if you’re gonna have that attitude.”

Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes at his husband. Eddie laughs and plants a kiss on Steve’s cheek.

“Do you guys have any plans today?” You ask, cleaning up the mess from lunch. The two look at each other.

“No.”

“Nope, not today.”

“Oh, maybe you two could go on a date?”

Steve looked at Eddie excitedly, who gave him a toothy grin in return.

“That's not a bad idea,” Eddie says. “Been a while since we’ve gone out together.”

The two of them iron out the details of their spontaneous date. From the sounds of it, they’d probably be gone most of the afternoon and possibly into the night. It was a perfect opportunity to make a trip into town for your own plans.

Once the coast was clear, you took the opportunity to look through the phone book to see if any kind of shop was listed. You found a taxi company first, dog earring the page to go back to as you kept on with your search.

As you sat there, you didn’t quite catch the way the temperature in your body started to rise. You pulled on the collar of your shirt to fan yourself as you turned the pages, which slowly became less and less clear to you as your vision began to go fuzzy. The mixed smells that you’d gotten used to all the sudden became very potent, filling your brain with the scent of alpha musk.

Before you even realized it, you were on your feet and up the stairs. Opening the door to the room across the hall from yours, you immediately find the hampers full of Steve’s and Eddie’s clothes that they kept in there. You thanked yourself for forgetting to start the laundry this morning as you dumped all the clothes onto the floor of their walk in closet.

It was heavenly to be in there surrounded by all of their clothes, towels, and other materials that you found to be suffice for your nest. At some point you’d taken off your own clothes and replaced them with one of the boy’s shirts and another’s pair of sweats. You curled into yourself, surrounded by their scent as you slowly felt yourself drifting off to sleep.

You had no idea how long you laid there for. All you could focus on was the safe feeling of your nest and the throbbing between your legs that gradually became more prominent as time passed. It felt natural for you to want to call for your ex, even when you were surrounded by other alphas scents. Your body was just desperate for any relief.

“Shit, there you are.”

A light fills the closet, breaking you from your trance and you call your ex’s name again.

“Shhh, no, it’s Steve.”

You feel your body being lifted from your nest. It almost puts you in a panic until you get a full whiff of Steve’s scent up close. You rub your face against the skin of his neck, whimpering as the pain between your legs becomes more of a strobing feeling.

“Is she okay?” Eddie’s scent breaches Steve’s take over of your nose. You can feel the heat of his body next to yours as he moves in close. A hand lays across your forehead for a moment, and naturally you lean into the touch before it’s pulled away.

“She’s burning up.” Eddie’s voice sounds slightly slurred, but you can’t tell if it’s him or if your hearing is being affected by your heat.

“I thought we had a couple more days,” Steve huffs. You can almost make out the distressed look on his face with how closely he’s holding you.

“I’ll take her,” Eddie says, his hands moving around you to take you from Steve. But Steve doesn’t budge. In fact, his grip on you tightens, pulling your body closer to his chest.

“N-no,” Steve stutters. There’s an aggressive tone in his voice as he speaks, and you feel him moving you away. It’s hard to tell, but it feels like he may be crawling across the bed with you in his grasp.

“Give her to me, Steve.” Eddie’s voice is demanding, and you feel the pressure in the room change. Steve takes a deep breath in before he lays you down on the bed, the cool feeling of their sheets hitting your warm skin and giving you the chills.

Your eyes open to see Steve stripping his clothes. As your vision comes into focus, you can see the way he looks down at you hungrily with lidded eyes. His mouth hangs open as his breathing picks up, his shirt long gone as he starts on his belt.

The bed dips and you see Eddie make his way over to you and Steve. He’d gotten down to his boxers, a prominent tent where he’s straining underneath the tight material.

“Move,” Eddie growls, pushing Steve over and sliding his way between your spread legs. His eyes are dark, locked on your exposed pussy like a predator about to go in for the kill. In a swift motion he pulls his boxers down to free his cock. It makes an audible smack against his stomach, the head almost purple with how hard he was.

The sight of his alpha cock pushes your body over the edge and a wave of arousal spills from you and onto the sheets below in preparation. Eddie strokes himself, his hand rubbing up and down his length before he moves to position himself at your entrance. Even just feeling the tip against you has you bucking your hips and whining for him. Eddie’s lips curl into a smile at your desperation, nudging you again to tease you more.

Just as Eddie’s about to push himself into you, Steve lunges at him, sending Eddie almost over the side of the bed. There’s a feral look in Steve’s eye as he moves in where Eddie was between your legs.

Even in your delirious state, your eyes go wide when you see Steve’s alpha cock nudging between your legs. Your body is built to take alpha cocks, which are normally bigger than any other second gender when it comes to size. But you were still reeling as Steve’s cock began to push inside of you, questioning how your body was going to accommodate the whole thing as he began to split you open inch by inch.

The loud moans that came from your chest filled the room the further he pushed in. Another wave of arousal pushes through you and out to coat Steve’s cock. His body rocked slowly to let you accommodate him, fully aware of how big he really was. Steve’s head rolls back, mouth hung open in pleasure with each thrust.

“Damn it, Steve” you hear Eddie hiss from beside you. Your head lulls to the side as the bed dips again. Eddie starts to crawl towards you and Steve and you wonder if he’s going to try and push him out of you. Instead, Eddie grabs Steve by the back of his head and crashes his lips into his. You watched as the two alpha’s kissed, their tongues moving in a dance with each other and their teeth clashing with each movement of their lips.

With Steve distracted by his husbands lips on his, he forgets that he was trying to be gentle with you and begins to really thrust. All at once he’s fully seated inside you, barely pulling back before pushing himself all the way back in over and over. It’s so much all at once, overstimulating your body to the point where you cum hard on his cock.

Steve gasps as you squeeze him over and over, pulling away from Eddie to look at your face. Your eyes roll back into your head and the noise you let out as you cum is choked and guttural.

“She’s pretty when she cums, isn’t she, big boy?” Eddie’s looking at you with that same predatory expression, a devilish smile on his face as he watches you cum on his husbands cock. Steve nods dumbly, barely cognizant of anything other than the feeling of your tight cunt on his cock as he continues to rock into you.

“Wow, Stevie,” Eddie teases, “I figured you would have cum by now. Her pussy that good that you don’t wanna be out of it yet?”

Another lazy nod. Steve is panting like a dog over you now, his body slowly slumping forward as he lays himself on top of you. He’s humping into you with no rhyme or rhythm, only chasing his own pleasure as he drools onto your skin.

“Hmmm, well, maybe I need to help you speed things up a bit.”

From over Steve’s shoulder, you see Eddie’s hand rubbing down Steve’s ass to the small of his back and back up again. You see Steve’s brows jump up before his forehead lands in the crook of your neck.

Eddie’s eyes meet yours, and you feel your heart skip a beat. He pauses for a moment before he leans over Steve’s body, his big, ringed hand moving in front of your face. He presents his thumb to you, and places it against your tongue. Instinctively, you take the digit in your mouth and suck, twirling your tongue around it inside of your mouth. Eddie hums in satisfaction,a deep chuckle rolling in his chest before pulling his thumb from between your lips.

“Such a good girl,” he says with a wink. You feel yourself clench around Steve from Eddie’s praise, and he lets out a sharp breath against your neck.

You watch as Eddie’s hand lands back on Steve’s ass. The thumb that had been in your mouth sinks its way inside Steve and the effect is immediate. With only a few more sharp thrusts, you immediately feel yourself being filled with Steve’s thick, hot seed. His cock throbs inside of you as his release seems to be endless.

The pain in your core dulled with every drop of cum that coats you inside. You feel like you could pass out from exhaustion, but the sudden tightening feeling inside of you has you gasping as Steve’s knot grows inside of you.

Eddie looks at you wish confusion, not expecting your pained expression.

“What the—Steve, did you fucking knot her?”

Steve’s eyes shoot open, looking at you with more clarity than he ever has before. And in your close proximity, you were able to really look at him. The redness that dusted his freckles cheeks, his long eyelashes that framed his beautiful hazel eyes, the little moles that decorated his skin like constellations in the sky.

Steve Harrington was beautiful.

“Steve!” Eddie called his name again. Steve looked down between the two of you and sighed.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I—I just didn’t pull out fast enough.”

Eddie sighed, shaking his head. In your contract, the three of you had agreed not that there wouldn’t be any knotting if the other person was waiting their turn with you.

Sometimes it takes a while for a knot to go down if the knotting alpha knows that another alpha is trying to get to his omega. It’s just a biological thing as most alpha and omega dynamic don’t include two alphas sharing an omega. The whole point of the knot is to keep the alpha’s sperm in the omega for as long as possible and to prevent another alpha from impregnating the omega.

“You better think of Mrs.Henderson in her underwear to get that to go down faster,” Eddie says with an accusatory tone and Steve grimaces. Eddie’s comment makes you laugh, and Steve looks at you wildly.

“Don’t-don’t laugh,” he hisses through his teeth, “It makes you squeeze me and that’s not going to help my shit go down.”

“Sorry.” You look away from him. If you weren’t still inflicted by your heat, you’d probably feel something along the lines of embarrassment or guilt for your current situation. Because you want to wrap your arms around Steve’s neck and pull him in for a kiss, like the one that him and Eddie had shared.

You wanted that with Eddie, too, though.

You hadn’t even realized that you’d fallen asleep until you felt the pressure between your legs shift. Your eyes flutter open, and you watch as Steve sits up and moves to the edge of the bed. His knot had gone down but his cock was still as hard as it was before he had pushed himself inside of you.

But your view of Steve was obstructed as Eddie took his place between your legs. He leaned over you until he was as close to you as Steve was.

“Got it in you for more, princess?” Eddie asks sweetly, his hand caressing your face. His scent washed over you and you were immediately back into that fuzzy headspace. You nod up at him eagerly, pleading to him with big, glassy eyes.

Eddie gives you a toothy grin. He gives you a peck on your nose before he leans back on his haunches.

“Can I move you around?” He asks. You nod, and he wastes no time moving you onto your stomach. He maneuvers your body so that your ass is up in the air for him and you can hear him hum at the view.

“Look at you dripping, sweet thing,” he says mesmerized. “Can’t wait to add to the mess.” The head of his cock nudges at your sopping pussy, slipping inside with little resistance as your arousal and Steve’s cum acts as a lubricant.

Even with the stretch of Steve’s cock, Eddie still felt like he was filling you up as he pushed himself all the way inside you. Eddie stilled against you when he was fully inside. His hands grip your sides as he breathes heavily in and out behind you.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Steve says in a mocking tone. “Pussy too good?”

“Shut up,” Eddie says in a clipped tone. His body starts to move, his thrusts picking up quickly and deeply.

“Oooooooh, my god,” you moan out, gripping the bed desperately to keep yourself grounded as Eddie drills into you.

“Fuuuuuck, that feel good, sweetheart? Mmmmm you’re so fucking tight, shit.”

“Don’t wanna hear any lip from you when you knot her, too,” Steve pants, his voice sounding closer than it did before. You crane your neck to look over your shoulder and find that Steve is kissing along Eddie’s jaw, down his neck and onto his tattooed shoulders. Steve’s big hand interlaces with Eddie’s on your sides, gripping you enough to pull your ass back and bounce is against Eddie over and over again. Eddie stills his movements and lets Steve move your body instead, his cock twitching like crazy inside of you.

“Hmm, it’s kinda like your pussy toy that you love so much.” Eddie’s breath hitches at Steve’s words. “Except it’s better because it’s the real thing, huh?”

“Ye-yeah,” Eddie stutters. His brows are pinched and jaw slack as Steve continues to use your pussy to fuck his husband. You almost miss the subtle way Steve’s body moves behind Eddie, sure that he’s rubbing his still hard cock against Eddie’s backside as he watches his husbands dick move in and out of you.

Watching the intimate display between two lovers going on behind you while you’re body is compared to nothing but a toy sends a wave of heat through you. It only takes a few more Steve assisted thrusts before you’re coming undone on Eddie’s cock, soaking him with a mixture of yours and Steve’s cum.

“Jesus Christ!”

Eddie pushes against Steve’s grip, knocking them away to regain control. Eddie’s body shifts, and his cold rings sting against the hot skin of your shoulders as he grabs them, pulling you back until your body is steady. The momentum of his thrusts picks up tenfold as he begins to fuck you in a feral manner. Eddie’s grunting and hissing coupled with his lack of checking on your comfort puts you fully in a haze. Words fall from your lips with no thoughts behind them.

“Please cum. Please cum. Want your cum. Want your cum so bad.”

“Holy shit.”

All at once Steve lets out a long groan and Eddie’s thrusts suddenly become sloppy. His cum begins to fill you as he still moves shakily in and out of your abused pussy. The thrusts finally stop as Eddie falls forward and crushes you under his weight, his arms wrapping around you and holding you tightly as his knot expands within you.

“Mmmmmmmm.” He hums against your shoulder as he inhales your scent.

“Don’t kill her,” Steve jokes followed by the sound of a hand smacking skin. Eddie’s body jolts, his head turning to look back at Steve.

“I’m not killing her. Am I killing you?”

“Well…” It obvious that you’re struggling a bit to breathe under Eddie’s weight. A moment passes and al the sudden your being flipped, ack against Eddie’s chest and your legs spread as they drape over Eddie’s strong thighs.

Steve is at the end of the bed, his eyes locked on where you and Eddie are connected. His large hand stroked his cock, chest jolting with a particular roll of his fist over his cock.

“Like what you see, big boy?” Eddie chuckles next to your ear, his cheek rubbing against the side of your head. “I think this one’s spent for now. But if you need to get off, I’m still here.”

A smile tugs on Steve’s lips.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he says, shuffling towards the two of you until he’s between you once again. You watch in awe as Steve’s hand reaches out, his gentle touch landing on Eddie’s taught balls, rubbing them a few times before descending out of sight. Eddie gasps under you, letting in a sharp breath as Steve begins to work him open just out of sight. Curse the lack of movement that being knotted puts you in.

“If you can make her cum again, I bet it’ll be enough that I can fuck you without the lube.”

You clench around Eddie’s cock at Steve’s lewd words. Eddie barks out a laugh, “I have a feeling that won’t take much.” One hand snakes up your chest to begin fondling your breasts, while the other makes it’s way towards your sensitive clit. Eddie rocks his still hard cock inside you the best he can, his knot is so big it feels like there shouldn't be any room left inside you at all.

“Here, let me help,” Steve says, pushing Eddie’s hand to the side before he can get started on your bud. With a bit of shifting, Steve’s face was suddenly kissing the insides of your thighs, intermittently moving down to place a few pecks on Eddie’s as he worked his way inward. He inches closer and closer until he was dead center between you.

With heavy eyes, you watched his tongue start from the bottom of Eddie’s balls, gliding upward until his thick muscle finally met with your clit. It sent a wave of heat through you again, the arousal leaking from around Eddie’s knot. But it’s not enough.

Steve’s tongue masterfully flicks and swirls around your bud, occasionally taking it between his lips to suck on harshly. Both of Eddie’s hands twist and kneed at the flesh of your tits absentmindedly, his rocking becoming automatic as he watched Steve’s ministrations.

With all the touches and movements, it didn’t take long to get you back on the edge again with a heavy pressure building inside you. Your body began to shake as you were about to plummet over the edge, knuckles white as you gripped Eddie’s arms as if you’d float away if you let go.

The sudden twitch of Eddie’s cock inside you as he came again was the final push you need. There was a sudden release as the pressure inside you as your body tensed. Eddie’s knot wasn’t even enough to keep your slick inside. You could feel it pouring out and drenching Eddie under you.

“Atta girl,” Steve praises, his hands rubbing your still shaking legs until the went limp. “You did so, so good.”

“Fuck, yeah she did,” Eddie huffs, clearly exhausted himself.

“Hey, don’t tap out yet, Eds. I’m not done with you.” Steve rubs his cock on yours and Eddie’s skin, soaking himself with your slick until he was satisfied.

“Sorry, hun, I’ll try and be easy since you can’t move,” Steve says to you with a sincere look.

You think back to the noises that the two of them make at night when they’re alone together, always wondering f they were rough with each other. It makes sense, two alphas who naturally want to dominate their partner would probably be like a lion and a tiger fighting each other.

Your body suddenly shifts as Eddie’s back arches off the bed. You can feel Steve’s abdomen against you as he pushes himself fully inside of Eddie, filling him to the brim just the same as he is with you. Eddie’s whole body shudders and he cums for the third time inside you.

But Steve doesn’t give him much time to recover before he starts moving. His arms scoop under Eddie’s legs by the knees, bending the both of you slightly as he begins to piston into Eddie. Both of your bodies move with Steve’s thrusts, including Eddie’s cock as he’s inside of you. It almost feels as if Steve is fucking the both of you.

Eddie’s arms wrap around you tightly, pulling you as close to him as possible while you move in tandem with each other. Your so far gone that you barely even register the way his teeth graze against the skin of your neck. He lets out low growls against the skin that covers your scent gland, the pressure of his teeth teasing you as if taunting you with the possibility of him marking you.

Steve’s hand grazes against your cheek, the skin of his arm running against the round of your cheek. It happened so quickly. Your eyes shot open to find Steve leaning forward, a bewildered look on his face that bordered rage. He wasn’t looking at you, though, rather just past you at Eddie. Turning your head slowly, you see that Steve’s hand is completely covering Eddie’s mouth, his eyes wide with realization.

There was a long, silent, unmoving pause. The entire mood shifted in a second, the air thick with tension that made you afraid to even blink. You could feel Eddie’s chest rise and fall under you, your skin sticky from the sweat that had accumulated between the two of you. All you wanted was to crawl away and get in the shower, the very full feeling of being full of 4 or 5 loads of alpha cum was beginning to feel heavy inside of you.

Slowly, Steve removes his hand from Eddie’s mouth, the two of them looking at each other for a moment before Steve clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says with a forced smile. “That was, um, a little to close for comfort for me. Didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

Eddie didn’t say anything.

The gradual shrinking of his knot made it to where you could slip yourself off of him. Without a word, you rolled off of him and ran into their closet on shaky legs.

As soon as the door closed, you collapsed into the nest you had made and began to feel a wave of anxiety come over you. There’s muffled words being exchanged on the other side of the door, voiced raised just enough that you could tell it was an argument, but it didn’t seem to escalate much beyond that.

This isn’t how you expected any of this to go. In the lucid state you were in you tried to remember all the terms that were discussed when it came to actually having sex. One at a time. Only enough interaction to get the job done. Minimal small talk. Knotting is okay considering the higher catch rate.

But there was definitely not to be any bonding.

The whole thing was meant to be as sterile and clinical and professional as sex between two people could be. Even if they were both hot, there was no way you were going to come between them. You weren’t going to be the other woman.

A soft nudge on your shoulder woke you up from your sleep. The mixed smells overwhelmed you once again, the floaty feeling in your mind returning as your heat took over.

“Hey, are you okay?” Steve’s voice was gentle and laced with concern. His thumb rubbed circles into your skin as you roused more, turning slightly to look up at him. He was shirtless, only in a pair of gray boxers that you’re pretty sure he stole from your nest before you woke up in hopes that you wouldn’t notice.

“Mmhmm, just really tired,” you say, punctuating your statement with a yawn. Steve chuckled and knelled down next to you, his hand maintaining contact with your arm.

“I’m sorry, hun. We, uh…we went a little overboard with you, so I’m sure you’re exhausted.” You nod your head at his words, only able to keep one eye open on him as he talked. “Is it—Can—Can I—Can we help you get in the shower?” Steve stuttered as if he was asking you if you would scold him. Little did he know that the thought of hot water hitting your skin sounded amazing after all your body had been through.

“Yes, please,” you said breathlessly, arms stretching out towards him. Even in the low light you could see the tension leaving his body. Strong arms scoop you up and lead you into the bathroom. The light was low, water already running in the walk in shower as Eddie stood next to it, his hand inside of the curtain presumably checking the temperature.

“Hey,” he said once he noticed the two of you enter, his voice was stilted. He had an unreadable look on his face, his eyes looking anywhere but at you at Steve. “The water’s ready. You guys should be good to go…”

“You’re not taking a shower?” You ask, head tilting to the side.

Eddie looks at you, his eyebrows disappearing into his disheveled bangs as if he were surprised you were even talking to him. He looked up at Steve, mouth opening and closing as if lost for words.

“Do you—are you okay with him…also being in the shower?”

You look up at Steve, confused at the question.

“I don’t mind.” Your mind immediately goes back to your thoughts from earlier. You weren’t going to be the other woman.

“Unless you mind. Actually, maybe I should just take a shower by myself.” You push against Steve’s body until he lowered you down onto your feet. You miss the way Steve and Eddie look at each other as you enter the shower without them.

You awoke the next day burning up.

After haphazardly moving your nest into your room while you showered, you spent a good hour rearranging the different articles of Steve and Eddie’s belongings on your bed before finally falling asleep.

Looking over at the clock on your nightstand, you were shocked to see that you’d slept for 16 hours. It wasn’t uncommon for you to sleep for 10 or 12 hours during a heat, but 16 was a new record for you.

And your body was paying the price for it. The ache between your legs throbbed as your heat was reaching its day two peak. All you could think about was Eddie and Steve coming in to relieve you of the pain as you pulled their shirts over your face. Inhaling their scent, you let out a load moan that turned into a cry as the pain radiated down your legs.

There was a knock on your bedroom door. You knew it was Eddie before his knuckles even hit the wood, his scent becoming extremely noticeable to you in the house. Steve must not be home, the lack of the mix of there scents making Eddie stand out much more in his absence.

“Come in,” your voice was strained and slightly muffled by the shirt over your face. The door creaked open, but Eddie didn’t say anything. His silence prompted you to uncover your face. Eddie stood in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights. He was so close, yet far enough way that it frustrated you.

“What are you doing?” You sounded petulant, and if you were in the right state of mind you may even be embarrassed for using such a tone. But you were in so much pain, and the solution to your problem was dangling itself in front of you just out of reach.

“I, uh, I heard you cry out and I just…” His mouth closed as he swallowed, his lips smacking as if his throat had gone dry. You sat up slowly in the bed and Eddie’s eyes followed your every movement.

“S-Steve had to go in to work today,” he suddenly blurted out, his blown out pupils meeting yours. “I was able to take the week off to, uh, to—to.”

“To fuck me?” The words came from a place of impatience and irritation. Eddie sucked in a sharp breath at your bluntness, giving a sharp nod.

“But, I’m not supposed to until Steve gets home.” His head turns to the side, eyes suddenly very interested in a painting on the wall.

“What? Why? I thought…The contract…”

“It’s because of, well, what happened last night. Steve wants us all to, uh, talk before we go any further.”

Tears begin to form on your lash line. The rational version of you would understand, but the only thing you were concerned about was getting the relief you desperately needed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Eddie’s hands cupped your face, his rough thumbs wiping away the tears that started to fall down your cheeks. “He’ll be home soon though. He said he wasn’t going to stay out a minute longer than he had to—”

The sound of the front door suddenly opening had you sobbing with relief. It slammed shut, Steve’s rushed footsteps echoed up the stairs and down the hall until he appeared in the doorway. His hair was every which way and he was panting after sprinting to get to you.

“I didn’t do anything,” Eddie said, backing away from you, and you could feel the loss of his touch in your soul.

“I know,” Steve said as he rushed to take Eddie’s spot in front of you. “Hey whats wrong?”

You sniffled, looking up at him through your watery lashes. “Hurts, Steve. Please…” You reach out a hand for him and he hesitates. He grabs you by the wrist and pushes your hand back before you can reach him.

“Okay, I understand, sweet girl.” He nods, looking at Eddie briefly before looking you in the eyes. “But we need to talk first. Okay?”

You whine out, rubbing the tears from your eyes with your free hand.

“It’ll be quick, I promise.” Steve takes a deep breath in. The grip on his hand loosens as he takes your hand in his.

“We…we want to make sure that you’re still okay. After last night, everything happened so quickly and things got carried away…We just don’t want to make you feel like that’s how it has to be.”

You blink up at him, trying to process all the words being spoken to you while pushing down the pain.

“Because of the contract?” You ask, hoping that you’re asking the right question.

“Yes, exactly. We strayed quite a bit from the guidelines we set and we want to make sure you’re still okay with going forward.”

“Steve.”

The seriousness in your tone has Steve tensing, his body as still as a statue.

“I know what I signed up for. If I don’t like something I promise I will tell you. But, until one of you knocks me up, you could fuck me on an overpass and I would not care. When I said free game, I meant it.”

Almost as soon as you said it, the room became heavy with Eddie’s scent. The weight has you collapsing on the bed, arousal pouring from you as your body preps itself. Steve looks over to Eddie, whose mask finally drops to reveal the feral intentions he was repressing.

“Eddie—”

“Steve, I’ve been going crazy sitting in this house all day waiting for you to come home just to hear that I could have been in here taking care of her while she cried out for hours.”

Steve turns to face Eddie fully, gritting his teeth.

“You’re the whole reason I wanted to wait! If you were able to have better control of yourself, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“Me? If I remember correctly, you’re the one who said he wasn’t sure he would be able to control himself if we brought an omega into this relationship.”

“I wasn’t sure if I would, but clearly you’re the one who has no self restraint. Trying to bond with her the first time you fuck her isn’t really a good look, Eddie!”

“I said I was sorry! I didn’t—Woah!”

While the two of them argued, you’d managed to slip off the bed and crawl over to where Eddie stood. The bulge in his jeans was too enticing to continue ignoring. You could tell Eddie would be easier to make fold if you made the first move.

You rub your face against the material in his jeans, mouthing at him until he got the message. Forgetting his argument with Steve, Eddie quietly made quick work of his belt, hastily undoing the button and zipper as well. Your hands took over, pulling his pants and boxers down in one swift motion. You were so close to him that his cock hit your nose as it popped out of the confines of his clothes, eliciting a chuckle from Eddie.

But you didn’t wait to hear what ever cleaver comment he had planned to say. Immediately you wrapped your lips around the leaking tip, wasting no time trying to take him as deep down your throat as you were able to manage. The sounds coming from above you sent little shivers down your spine.

“Okay, okay—” Eddie pulls himself from your mouth. There was pained look on his face as he pinched the head between his finger and thumb.

“Sorry, was gonna bust too quick. And as good as you are at sucking dick, we don’t want anything to go to waste right?” You blink up at him, nodding dumbly as you lacked the words to respond to him. His hand came to rest against your cheek and you leaned into it, eyes fluttering shut at his touch.

“Awe, is the little omega too far gone already? Need me to take all that pain away?” You nodded against his hand, almost falling over when he pulled it away. Before you could protest, you felt yourself being lifted once again, body landing with a plop on top of the bed.

When you looked up, you saw Eddie kicking his pants and boxers to the side, eyes on where you lay waiting for him. For a brief moment, you notice that Steve isn’t in the room anymore. A little voice in the back of your mind tries to break through your fog, but it quiets as Eddie leans over you with his imposing frame.

Eddie swings his legs over yours until he had you straddling him. Leaning in close, his mouth hovers just next to your ear. “I promised Stevie that I wouldn’t fuck you from behind anymore. Don’t need the unnecessary temptation. Hope that’s okay.”

“O-okay.” It comes out as a whisper, only audible to Eddie with how close he was to you. The heat coming off of him only raised your body temperature more as he caged you under him.

Suddenly, his hand lands on your hip. His hand slides down your side and over your hip, only stopping once his hand is fully cupping over your center. Two of his thick fingers tease your hole for a moment before he sinks them in. The welcomed intrusion has you gasping out in relief, even more so when his rough thumb toys with your clit. Your arm wraps around him and hold on for dear life as he picks up the pace, his fingers reaching deep inside you as he works you open.

Just as you feel yourself hurtling towards your climax, Eddie abruptly pulls his fingers from your pussy, much to your dismay. You look up at him in disbelief and watch as he coats his cock in your juices before pushing it inside of you. He looks at you once he’s in, an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry,” he says as he pushes himself in to the hilt, “Wanted to feel you cum on my cock.”

And you did. With only a few sloppy pumps as he got his rhythm going you were spasming around him, legs shaking as he continued to fuck you through it.

The bed creaks as his hips rock into you. Skin against skin, sweat dripping from his face down onto yours from your combined body heat filling the room. Eddie’s very vocal when he fucks, whether its grunts or groans or him reminding you how good you feel around him every time you cum.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to fill this omega pussy up,” he pants, his sloppy movements signaling to you that he’s reaching his end. “Feels so fucking good. Didn’t know what I’ve been missing all these years.”

His words ring in your ears, but you’re too fucked out to dissect them now. Instead, you lock them in your mind to explore at a later time.

“Hah, shit!”

Eddie grits his teeth, hips stilling as his fills you once again with his cum. Any remaining ache immediately dissipates once you feel his hot seed inside you, satiating your need for the time being.

There’s a twitch at the base of Eddie’s cock and you brace yourself for his knot. But Eddie pulls out before he can fully knot you, his chest heaving as he sits back on his haunches. Instead, he grabs your legs and lifts you up until your butt rests against his legs, elevating your lower half.

“This is supposed to help I guess,” he huffs out, his hands still holding your legs by the ankles, his knotted cock twitching against your ass.

“Why…why did you—?”

“Not knot you?” You nod.

“No knotting if the other alpha is waiting their turn. It’s in the contract, remember?”

“Oh yeah…”

Eddie calls out for Steve, waiting for few moments for him to respond. When he got nothing, he called for Steve again. Still nothing.

With a huff, Eddie moved around the contents of your nest until you were elevated without his assistance. He hopped off of the bed and grabbing his boxers, sliding them on over his still hard cock.

“I’m gonna go find him. Just try and stay like that for the ten minutes.”

You waited patiently for the ten minutes, expecting Steve to come in and take his turn with you. But, he didn’t show. You waited another ten minutes just for good measure, but the need to pee took over and you had no choice but to move.

As you opened the bedroom door, you were met with Eddie once again, his fist raised as if he was about to knock.

“Oh, hi,” he said awkwardly. “Sorry that you had to wait.”

“It’s okay. I just have to pee and then I’ll be ready for Steve.”

“Oh, um, Steve’s…not in the mood. So, you’re good to shower or sleep—actually, you haven’t even eaten today. I’ll go make you something to eat real quick.”

Eddie doesn’t give you time to respond before he’s bounding down the stairs, leaving you in the doorway with your mouth hung open.

Five grueling days later, you wake up feeling…sore. Not in the same way as your heat made you feel sore, but rather in the exact way that you think you would feel after being fucked multiple times a day for 5 days straight.

Waddling as you move, you pile all of the clothes that you’d stolen from the two men during your heat onto the center of your bed. Stripping the pillow cases and bed sheets, you drag everything down the stairs to start a load of laundry while.

The house was quiet as you moved around it. A note left for you on the counter from Steve and Eddie said that the both of them went into work today to catch up on what they might have missed during the week.

Yesterday you wanted to spend alone time in your nest, so you knew that it was your last day of your heat. You’d let the boys know that you’d likely not be cycling anymore so that you all could go back to your normal routine the next day.

Which is exactly how it felt.

You spent the day cleaning, doing laundry, prepping dinner for when Eddie and Steve would come home. Your went through the motions that you had gotten used to in the first two weeks of you being here.

But, you also had time to spend the whole day analyzing everything that had happened during the last week.

Thinking back, there wasn’t anything that came to mind that you could complain about on your end. You’d rationalized everything that happened in that first night; Eddie and Steve had both been a little tipsy. You didn’t notice the alcohol on their breath with the overwhelming smells of their pheromones all around you. But when you recalled the memory with a clear mind, you could definitely smell it on them any time they got close enough to your face.

Sure, the things that happened were off from what the terms of your contract outlined, but most of those terms were made with you in mind. And you didn’t really mind what had happened at all…

But, Steve clearly wasn’t happy. He still had sex with you during your heat, but it was more like how you had expected it to go in the beginning. It felt as clinical as sex could be. You were thankful that he had to cum inside of you, or else you might not have gotten the relief of the ache without it. He also left once he was done, usually sending Eddie in not long after to check on your.

Sex with Steve felt like you were being used, but you couldn’t fault him for it.

Sex with Eddie was different.

With Eddie’s talkative nature and inability to filter his thoughts when he was inside of you, you’ve come to the understanding that you might be the first omega that Eddie’s ever been with. You also think that Steve had been around the block a few times before getting with Eddie.

“Now I see what Steve’s talking about.”

“I get why Steve was worried about bringing an omega around.”

“Can’t believe Steve could ever give this up.”

And other things along those lines paint a picture of the relationship dynamic that these two might have when you’re not involved.

Steve was hesitant from the get go because he knew what he was missing as an alpha being in a relationship with a non-omega. Eddie’s either never been with an omega, or he’s never been with anyone other than Steve.

After coming to these conclusions, your mind couldn’t help but think about them over and over. Was Steve’s reluctance to open up to you because he felt bad about your first time together, or was he putting up a barrier between you to keep any potential feelings at bay?

Eddie certainly didn’t seem to mind. There must have been a discussion between the two of them about making things even when it came to having sex with you. Because Eddie was always eager to jump you, his enthusiasm clear every time you were together. But, it was always either preceded or followed by a less enthused Steve.

As the hours ticked by, the more nervous you began to feel for the arrival of the men of the house. You didn’t want things to be different after everything that had happened. It’s not like any of this was spontaneous. Having sex with each other was the whole point, but you couldn’t get over the feeling that things weren’t going to be okay anymore.

It was a little after 5:30 when the front door opened for the first time. You didn’t hear it over the radio playing and the loud sizzling of the oil as you seared the steaks for dinner. Your singing along with Madona’s Like a Prayer turned into a loud shriek when you turned and saw Eddie leaning against the counter with an amused look on his face. Your hand flies to your chest as you collect yourself and Eddie almost keels over from laughter at your fright.

“Eddie, you asshole! You can’t scare me like that!” You hit him lightly on the arm with your hand towel.

“I didn’t do it on purpose! I was just enjoying the free concert that I didn’t know was going on in my kitchen.”

“Oh, please,” you say over your shoulder as you return to the steaks. “I didn’t take you as a Madonna guy.”

“I’m not. Only listen to her to appease Steve.” Eddie moves to lean against the counter next to you. You can feel his eyes on you as you flip the steaks around, checking on the twice baked mashed potatoes in the oven, reading over the instructions for the Stove Top.

“If you’re going to hover around me, then you can make yourself useful. Here,” you walk to the pantry and pull out a box of brownie mix, “Why don’t you make sure we have everything we need to make these?”

“We do,” Eddie says, taking the box from you with a smirk. “Everything…except the ingredient that makes them fun.”

It takes a moment for it to click. He laughs at you again as your eyes roll.

“Sounds like a good time in here!”

Steve peers into the kitchen as he pulls his coat off, placing it on the back of one of the island chairs.

Steve’s presence suddenly makes you acutely aware of how close Eddie is standing to you currently.

“Hey there, handsome,” Eddie cooes as Steve makes his way over to him. Steve leans and kisses Eddie on the lips. It’s a purely innocent kiss between to lovers, but your brain immediately flashes to the other night. The way they kissed each other with so much passion, completely dismissing you in their own pursuit of pleasure.

“Hi, babe,” Steve says between a few more pecks. When he pulls away from Eddie’s lips, he sniffs the air around him dramatically before looking at you.

“Damn, it smells amazing in here. Are you cooking steaks?”

Steve talking to you like he had before alleviated at least 85% of your anxiety over the last week. You nod, smiling up at him proudly.

“Yep, picked them up on sale last time we went to the store. Everything is almost done, too. So I hope you boys worked up an appetite today.”

Dinner went without a hitch, the conversation flowing normally between the three of you. You expected there to not be any mention of the past week, but small things in passing were brought up without any hidden malice or passive aggression. Eddie even mentioned that his coworkers were ragging on him for taking his first week off in years just to get laid.

After dinner, Eddie insisted on helping you make the brownies while Steve showered. Everything seemed normal as you read off the instructions. Eddie ran around the kitchen to grab you everything you needed.

“...and I’ll need a big bowl to mix everything in.” You were standing against the stove, back to Eddie as you set the oven to preheat. The box was still in your hand as you read it over one more time, not paying much attention to anything else as your head bounced to the low hum of a metal tape Eddie had put on.

Suddenly, you were being squished against the stove. Eddie’s arm reached out above you, his whole body pressing into yours as he opened the cabinet and pulled out a large mixing bowl. And as if it wasn’t weird enough, he stayed pressed against you as he placed it in front of you. You didn’t know how long he would have stayed like that, only backing away after Steve’s footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.

Eddie didn’t touch you like that for the rest of the night, and you didn’t bring it up. And as you laid in bed that night, you couldn’t decipher what exactly had happened. It already felt like how he pushed his body against you was wrong, but you could swear that you felt him…hard against your backside.

Not wanting to dwell on it, you chalked it up to lingering hormones. It might take a couple days for Eddie to adjust back after sleeping together for the last 6 days. You pushed it into the back of your mind and ignored it until you dozed off for the night.

thank you for reading.

tagging a few people who might be interested:

@xxhellfirebunnyxx @take-everything-you-can @babygorewhore @myosotisa @munson-blurbs @bimbobaggins69 @chaoticharrington @lonelysatellites @blueywrites @reidsbtch

2K notes · View notes

pedgito · 2 years

Text

𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐱 ·˚ ༘ 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: adventures in your shared obsessions of each other and your bodies—and eddie was insatiable when it came to you.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), oral fixation, hand kink, fingers in mouth/face squeezing, unprotected sex, oral (f&m receiving), deep-throating, slight pain kink, lots of dirty talk, multiple orgasms, it’s just straight filth i’m sorry. if i missed any tags lmk!

word count: 5k

Eddie’s always been aware of it—his constant need to keep his mouth busy, whether by talking or stuffing it full of food, it didn’t matter. If it wasn’t either of those, it was a cigarette or joint, occasionally his fingers, chewing idly at the skin—it was a nervous habit he picked up when he was younger and never really dropped, but the point is, Eddie always held most of his focus on his mouth. It didn’t take long for you to notice either.

He chewed at his straws like a menace, nibbled away at his pencils, left no survivors to the plastic lids of his water bottles that he always failed to actually throw away—you didn’t really mind though, you always cleaned up for him regardless, his mind too busy and wandering to focus on anything other than one thing at a time. It was like try to stop a train moving at the speed of light and there was no reason for you to cause that collision if you didn’t need to.

Eddie admits it often too, that it might be a problem—it’s followed him since he was a toddler, but has grown into something much more nuanced. He can control it, for the most part, but his idle hands and struggling focus need the assistance and it’s the only thing that helps.

But, there’s one thing that Eddie finds helping him more, when the itch becomes an undenying need.

It’s you—and your own guilty fixation.

Satiating your own guilty pleasure is just as good as helping himself, if not more, and he’s the one that figures it out initially.

It’s never your own hands, always his, mouth always begging to be filled, stretched, something to keep you occupied. And Eddie is undeniably innocent about it in the beginning, attempting to wipe the dust of the chips from his fingers, having dipped into your own bag despite his constant protesting of him not being hungry—and now he was going to wipe it all over his jeans, it drove you nuts.

“Gimme.” You order with a soft mumble, holding your palm out in a grabbing motion until Eddie gives in, laying his hand down, palm up. He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it’s definitely not what you chose to do next, flipping his hand over carefully and picking the fingers apart one by one, laying the pad of his fingertips over your tongue—and you don’t make a big deal about, like you’re doing him a favor. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t already had worse inside of your mouth—though, you could argue that Eddie’s dick is far from the worst, it was arguably the best.

Either way, Eddie can’t help the twitch he feels in his dick at the sight, having to shift uncomfortably at the lunch table to avoid weird stares from his peers—not that they are paying any attention anyways.

It doesn't take long for you to realize that the only thing that helps your fix is Eddie’s hands, and in turn, it helps him too.

Occasionally it’s just pulling his hand until the back of it rests against your lips, pressing faint, gentle kisses into the skin—if you were cuddled up on his bed or sitting in the passenger seat of his van, you always had his hand in yours.

And Eddie loves kissing you—like, if there was a more expressive or forceful way to describe how much he enjoyed it, he wasn’t sure even that could measure it; though to Eddie’s fault, he didn’t have much to compare it all too, but it was still pretty fucking great.

Sometimes he’ll press his lips into your hair, that sweet vanilla scent of your shampoo invading his smell, or your ear, resting against the shell of it—but, that was usually reserved for the public, keeping his more lewd, dirty thoughts at bay.

When you were alone, it was all a completely different story.

It was rough, wild, and messy—it took a while to get into the rhythm of the things you enjoyed, but when it cliqued—it was like a light switching on and everything was intensified tenfold.

There were good days—the gentle ones, hours spent wrapped up in one another, thankful that his uncle Wayne worked such late nights. It wasn’t always about the sex either, just being in Eddie’s company, but it allowed for a small moment of calm in a relationship that was nothing but eclectic.

Then there were the unpredictable days, like tonight. It could’ve been either of you that set it off, but Eddie was particularly bothered. It could’ve been a number of things, none of them really important. All that mattered is that you were there, waiting, ready to be whatever he needed.

You make it back to his trailer before him—a late Friday night of Hellfire for himself, and you were too impatient. You ran into Wayne on the way in, which wasn’t nearly as surprising as it should be—he saw you often now and almost always had a plate set aside for dinner in case you were hungry, but it also meant that Eddie would surely eat that night, knowing his nephew was often too distracted to remember. There were nights when he would crash immediately, jumping into his bed without so much as a word or nod your way, just a kiss and a needy pull at you until you’re snug and tight at his side. He couldn’t always communicate what he needed, but you didn’t need him to, and it got easier over time.

He trodded in around midnight, not nearly as exhausted as you were expecting— “Got derailed again?” You ask amusingly, forcing him into the kitchen until he’s taking a seat on the counter, food being shoved forcefully into his already waiting hands. He smiles warmly, tapping you with foot until you’re squeezing between his legs, peering up at him with tired eyes.

“Yeah—“ He replies idly, shoveling the food into his mouth with a severe lack of grace and care, but it was endearing, “—Dustin can turn a thirty second turn into ten minutes if he wants to, I really need to reign that kid in sometimes.”

You huff a laugh, soft and barely audible.

He lifts the plate up that’s obstructing his view of you, peering from underneath the dishware, “Are you tired?” He asks with a small glint of hope, the glaze of something mischievous covering his features.

“Of course not.” You reply with a grin, pulling at the hem of his shirt as you stretch to the tip of your toes, pressing a quick kiss to the curve of his chin, “Are you?”

Eddie grins, mouth closed and tosses the plate off to the side.

“Fuck no,” He replies crudely, swiftly slipping himself off the counter and squeezing his hands underneath your thighs, baring your weight until he can settle your legs around his hips, pulling back to look at your giddy expression, “go wait in my room?”

Eddie knows when to be demanding—and you know he’s not really asking, but the playful tone excites you, a thrum of pleasure pulsing through your body.

“Don’t take too long.” You warn him softly, “Or I might change my mind.”

He knew you weren’t, but it was cute that you tried to play it as leverage. He leans forward, the biting kiss he gives you is a tell of how the night will probably play out—all fierce and teetering on that careful balance of pain.

And Eddie’s kind enough to carry you the short distance to his room, plopping you on his constantly unmade bed with a laugh, disappearing into his bathroom for a few minutes, water running through the silence of the trailer.

“Put a record on or something.” Eddie suggests through the wall as you scramble from the bed, sifting through his constantly growing collection of music.

“Because the soothing beats of Dio are such a mood setter.” You comment back snidely, flicking the record player on, letting whatever record he had in it already play lowly, the volume up high enough that it wasn’t dead silent—it did enough to drown out the chirping crickets and low buzz of the trailer park lights.

Eddie crowds around your back suddenly, pulling a startling squeal from your chest, hands gripping tight to your waist.

He hums a noise into the curve of your neck, “Look at me, sweetheart.” He asks softly, pulling back as quickly as your head turns, peering over your shoulder until he comes into view, eyes dark and piercing , still as wide as they always were—it made his gaze even more intimidating.

He sees the teasing, hopeful smile that pulls at your features.

“Open,” He instructs gently, the pad of his thumb rubbing at your chin, coaxing your lips wider and wider, his middle finger grazes over your bottom lip as it catches against your teeth—you see your opportunity, defying his order and clamping down over his finger gently, laughing softly as he stops dead, a sneaky smile pulling at his face, “—is that how tonight’s gonna be?”

You nod with giddy confidence and Eddie pulls his finger away suddenly, not much resistance on your end, but then he’s gripping your cheeks between his hand harshly, eyes tearing up in response—you couldn’t help but love the small tinges of pain it caused. Eddie always joked about you being a masochist, but you really couldn’t laugh—it was true.

“I can make it better,” You tease, speech muffled by the tight grip on your face, “I know what you need.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow in question, head tilting slightly. He can feel your curious fingers working at the hem of his jeans, yanking at his belt lazily.

“M’gonna get down on my knees,” You explain hotly, feel the grip on your face loosen and travel down slowly to the base of your neck, resting gently, “and suck your cock until you’re begging to come down my throat.”

Eddie wasn’t sure he had ascended to heaven just yet, but it was pretty damn close.

He allows you to lead him toward the edge of his bed, falling heavily into the mattress. He quickly forces off of his dirty Reeboks, watching as you settle onto the shag carpet, working at his pants with defined precision—it was so much easier now, like a routine. You yank at his jeans until he’s lifting his ass, letting you pull the pants the rest of the way down, his boxers joining soon after.

“That’s not fair,” He complains, fingers sifting through the hair at the crown of your head, “—already got my pants off and I haven’t even touched you how I want to.”

You take the bait, peering up at him between his widened legs, cocking resting against the base of his toned stomach, his shirt ridden up halfway.

“Fine—“ You respond with playful annoyance, lifting your shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor, your already bare breasts bouncing at the movement, “better?”

Eddie shakes his head like a nuisance, leaning forward with startling speed, head dipping down to mouth at the swell of your breasts, the soft bud of your nipple being pulled delicately between his teeth.

“Much better.” He comments against your skin, leaving a wet trail of open-mouthed kisses against the center of your chest until he reaches your mouth, pulling you in for another searing kiss that you have to force yourself to break away from—if you hadn’t, there’s no telling how quickly this would be over.

“My turn?” You ask hopefully, his hand reaching over his shaft and under his balls, palming at himself openly, watching your eyes drag from there to his face, smugness evident in his face. He nods slightly, letting you knock his hand away with ease.

You’re far too impatient to waste more time, eagerly mouthing at his heavy sack, tight from how easily you riled him up. You weren’t going for longevity or intimacy, you wanted the intensity that came with Eddie, how quickly he could throw over the control to you and let you take hold.

You lick a long stripe up the line of his cock, tongue flat against the thick vein the followed the underside of his shaft until you’re mouth closed around the tip, your lips pink and wet and downright sinful as you glanced up at him, his own lips parted in desperation. His hand rested gently against the crown of your head, not guiding or forceful—he just wanted a reason to touch you, not that he needed it.

“God, you look so fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth.” He comments, finger tracing along the side of your mouth, cheeks hollowed out. He wants you to move, wants to feel it as you go, taking him deeper and deeper—so you do. The hand that’s not resting against your hair forms around the underside of your jaw, fingers pressing gently against your cheeks, “Can you take more?”

You nod gently, nostrils flaring slightly as you force yourself to breathe, letting Eddie guide himself into your mouth until he budges against the back of your throat, holding until you can’t anymore, pulling back with a forceful gasp, eyes watering from the pressure. Eddie looks concerned for a half-second before you break out into a short fit of laughter, quickly taking him back into your mouth, hands forcing his shirt higher up his chest until he gets the idea, blindly tossing the material into the corner of his room, palms resting behind him as he watched, admired, tried desperately to memorize and catalogue every last moment of your mouth around him.

“Look at you,” He coos, “I know you love my hands in your mouth but you should see yourself right now,” His hand returns to the back of your head, cradling softly as he adds a small amount of pressure, quickening your pace as you forced his cock deeper into your mouth, pressing testingly against the back of your throat, “fuck—can I—“

You nod furiously, not even bothering to let him finish the sentence. He scoots ungraciously closer to the end of the bed, giving him a better angle to grasp your face, angling his hips slightly to rock his hips back into your mouth, trying your best to relax yourself as he moved himself deeper, feeling the muscles of your throat as you swallowed involuntary— a wet, hot blanket of pressure over his aching cock. He groans loudly, eyes downturned and hazy as he watches you, desperately at work trying to bring him to the edge—he was already there.

“Fuck—gonna come, sweetheart.” He warns, both hands twisting into your hair gently, angling your face up until he can watch himself disappear into your mouth with ease, eyes never leaving his own, only going blurry when he thrusts a little too rough, but it doesn’t matter once he falls apart, letting out a strangled moan as he comes down your throat, the hot and sticky strings coating your mouth in waves, his cock pulsing against your tongue as he rides it out.

He pulls your face away gingerly, fingers massaging at the hinge of your jaw as he pulls you toward him without question. He can feel your throat flex as you swallow his come, a sheepish smile pulling at your face. Eddie has no shame, eagerly pulling your mouth to his, tongue slipping past your bottom lip and into your mouth, the heady taste of him mingling with the taste of cigarettes; all encompassing and him. You moaned softly, keening into the gentle touch of his hands as they tightened around your throat.

“You’re unreal.” He comments in awe, grin pulling at his face as he pulls you up and over his lap, a violent reminder of how you still had on far too many clothes. “I’m gonna need a minute though.”

“Well,” You sing, fingers grazing over the outline of his lips, “I know what you can do to keep your mouth occupied—“

“What?” Eddie asks with mock offense, “Are you trying to silence me? Me? You’re really trying to silence Eddie The Banished—“

“Eddie.” You drag out with frustration, leaning back far enough in Eddie’s hold that he has to grab you tighter to keep you from falling, he squeezes, fingers digging into your side playfully.

“Get your ass on the bed,” He growls into the the underside of your jaw, ducking his head down swiftly to mouth at the concave of your chest, fingers still relentless in their attack to tickle you—a quick escape is made to put you out of your misery, nearly knocking him over in the process until you’re laid out on the bed, leaning up on your elbows as Eddie turns to you, his cock hanging heavy and thick between his thighs, the pale of his skin against ink black tattoos, it was a beautiful sight, “—see something you like?”

“Something,” Your voice replies airily, “someone.”

Eddie chuckles at that, roughly pulling at your loose sweatpants, pulling them down with ease—no panties either.

“Oh, you’re such a fucking deviant.” Eddie tells you, tossing the pants to the floor and relaxing on his stomach between your legs. “You take a shower at my house—get dressed in my clothes and you wait for me? You really want me to fuck you that bad?”

You nod sheepishly, watching with excitement as he pulls your legs further apart, fingers dancing along the skin carefully, around your ankle and up your leg, squeezing at the squishy flesh of your thigh, “Don’t act like you don’t want it just as bad.”

Eddie perks up at that, the bratty, condescending tone to your voice. He bites at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh with care, only enough pressure to make you jump, but it’s a warning. “Gonna let me have you how I want?” Eddie asks redundantly, “Because I have no problem fucking you until you can’t speak—not that I can just shove my fingers in your mouth and get the job done that way—“

Your pussy clenches at the thought, something Eddie noticed with rapt attention, smirk pulling at his features.

“Yeah—you’d like that. So fucking needy that I can shove my fingers in your mouth and you’ll be begging for me to stuff my cock inside you,” His ringed middle finger glides through your cunt, through your folds as the milky wetness gathers over his finger, stopping just over the sensitive bundle of nerves that pleaded and begged to be touched, but he pulls his finger away, slipping it into his own mouth, tasting with a look that has his eyes falling shut, breathing through his nose heavily.

“Tastes so fuckin’ sweet too,” He brags, shoving the fallen hair out of his face to look at you, “wanna taste?”

You’re not compelled to say no, so you nod—it was your own body, after all. Eddie grins salaciously, dipping his finger inside you this time with a quiet shush at your sudden gasp, quirking his finger teasingly. He pulls the finger away just as quickly, glistening with slick as he brings it to your mouth, pushing it past your waiting lips, barely any resistance as the heat of your mouth closes around his finger, dragging along your tongue until his ring bumps against your now closed lips.

“Shit,” He curses, eyes dilating at the sigh, honey irises now nearly black, “you’re a dream, you know that?”

You pull your mouth away with a noisy smack, “So I’ve been told.” You reply with a coyish grin, guiding his hand down to your throbbing cunt, awaiting the same desperately needed attention as him. “I hate to be a buzzkill, but if you don’t get to work—we’re gonna skip straight to the next step and I really don’t want to miss out.”

Eddie snorts with endearment, “Of course—sorry, princess.” He responds snarkily, knowing how much you hated the word.

You yank at his hair, earning a soft grunt as he buried as his face into your cunt fully—there was no gradual build up or teasing licks, his tongue flattening against you and gliding up the seam of your cunt in one fluid motion before his mouth was closing over your clit, working diligently and furiously—it was almost too much.

“Finally,” You sigh out, “—of everything you like to stick in your mouth, I didn’t think this is what would work the easiest.”

“Oh, I did.” He admits guilty, take a short break to sneak in the snide comment, “I’m a simple man—and this pussy is just—“

“Okay, okay.” You reply impatiently, bumping the side of his head with your thigh, urging him to continue, “less talking, please.”

Eddie has a way of ravishing you to the point of breathlessness, face heating up at the ungodly noises your arousal made when mixed with his mouth, his fingers joining in greedily, sinking inside you with ease, fitting perfectly, like they were right where they should be.

Your fist tightens his curls as the feeling builds, stomach tightening at the intense coil of pleasure at the base of your abdomen, you whine softly, legs shaking in anguish.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks hopefully, “Baby, you’re shaking—“

You nod desperately, urging him to keep going, blunt nails scratch at his back, “Eddie, please.” You beg for no reason in particular, but Eddie adores the way his name falls from your tongue like this, desperate for release—so he gives it to you without questions, pulling you right to the brink with his mouth against your clit, tongue working over the sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re moaning out, a harsh gasp ripped from your chest as you curl forward, hips involuntarily rocking through your orgasm that Eddie guides you through.

“I—“ You try to speak, feeling loss for words and gasping for air, chest heaving quickly, “—fuck, I can’t even think.”

Eddie laughs softly, adjusting his way up your body until he’s settled over you, arms encircling your waist and covering you in warmth, the sharp coldness of his bracelet shocking you back to reality.

“Are you calling it quits already?” Eddie asks petulantly, bottom lip forming into a subtle pout. You smile tiredly, raising your hand to drag along the faint stubble of his chin—he’d gone a few days without shaving and it was barely noticeable unless you were this close, invading his space.

“No,” You say wearily, Eddie senses your uncertainty and bursts into a fit of laughter, pulling back until he can lift you up and into his lap, supporting the majority of your weight, “—maybe, I don’t know?”

Eddie chews at his bottom lip in thought, a horrible habit that’s caused one too many bloody lips—you tap at his face lightly, pulling him out of his deep trance of thinking, giving him a soft look of warning.

“Sorry,” He replies earnestly, “—was thinkin’.”

“About?” You press, voice tipping up an octave.

You drag your thumb along his bottom lip, letting him pull the finger between his teeth gently, eyes boring into your own with intensity.

“You trust me?” He mumbled around your thumb, earning a jerky nod from you in response. “Good.”

And like that, Eddie’s flipping to his back, settling you over his lap with ease, “Not like that.” He instructs, making a motion with his fingers for you to turn the other way. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion but you listen anyways, turning until your thighs are spread out over his lap, “yeah—fuck, that’s—“

Eddie’s at a loss for words, for once.

“Don’t give up on me now.” You tease, pulling at his hands until they’re settling over the base of his own cock, allowing him to guide himself to your cunt, sliding and to the hilt in one gentle motion, his hand grasping back at your hip to keep you steady as you fall forward, mouth hung open in a groan as your fingers gripped the sheets between his legs. The angle was better, deeper, you couldn’t even fully describe it, but you could tell Eddie was affected just the same, doing the soft laugh he does when he’s overwhelmed with pleasure, elated and happy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie sighs, hands squeezing at the dips in your hips, “this view is—fuckin’ amazing.”

“Eddie, it’s so—“

“Deep,” He answers with a strained chuckle, “trust me—I know.”

“Come on, baby.” He urges, assisting in the slow lift of your hips, the first slam of your ass back against his groin pulling a deep guttural groan out of both of you.

Your legs are weak, still recovering from the intensity of your orgasm, the muscles twitching in protest as you bounced over Eddie’s lap, his dick disappearing inside of you as he watched on in awe, until he notices the muscles of your back contracting, palms pressed out in front of you as you struggled to keep upright.

It was a losing battle.

Eddie quickly sits up, adjusting himself until your back is pressed against his chest, arms wrapping around your stomach, he leans down to mouth at your back, whispering hot-breathed words of adoration into your skin and something closer to “Baby, baby—“ over and over again until it all blurs together, a similar tone to your desperate plea of his name, not entirely sure what you’re asking for.

“Look at me,” He asks breathlessly, hand reaching around to pull at your face, bringing your tired eyes to his gaze, lips parted slightly, “feels good, yeah?”

You nod slowly, his thumb heavy against your lip, parting further without question. Eddie can see the question in your eyes, he doesn’t need you to say it.

“You sure?” He asks.

You nod furiously, eyes squeezing shut on a rough thrust of his hips, his ring and middle finger slipping over the flat of your tongue, cold metal knocking against your teeth gently.

“Suck, sweetheart,” He encourages, the flat of his palm pressing against your stomach, his hips snapping into you from below, moans strangled out by his fingers.

“All it takes is my fingers, huh?” Eddie asks teasingly, “Is it that simple?”

You don’t answer, the inability made by Eddie’s fingers pressing further against your tongue, before pulling out and pressing the spit slick fingers to your core, the slide over your aching clit has you gripping to his forearms, letting Eddie take hold and pulling you to your second orgasm that night, the hand that’s pressed firmly against your stomach reaching up to grab you shoulder to keep you steady.

Eddie widens his thighs slightly, the stretch pulling at your already aching muscles, “Eddie, it’s too much.” You tell him, “I can’t—“

“You can,” He soothes, using every last ounce of energy he has to keep you upright, his steady pace falling off, more unpredictable as he nears his own end, “M’almost there, sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” You whine, Eddie’s fingers insistent as he circles your clit, determined to bring you over the edge with him, “I’m gonna—“

Eddie feels you tense around his cock, mouth falling open wordlessly as you come, letting him keep you pressed against him, tipping over the edge just as quick, the tightness of your cunt around him too overwhelming in the moment and he swears he nearly backs out.

It takes a moment for you two to come down, breath mingling together as Eddie slipped out of you, carefully adjusting your strained thighs until you could sit on the bed comfortably, his fingers brushing away a few wild strands of hair from your face, smiling through his own mused hair, bangs obscuring his eyes slightly.

You’re not even totally conscious again until you hear the familiar flick of Eddie’s lighter and the tinge of smoke invading your senses, cigarette placed between his lips.

You look at him with a subtle glance of scrutiny, admiring his unashamed nakedness, leaning back on his mattress in full glory, plucking at the cigarette with his thumb and forefinger, offering it up to you.

“No,” You reply softly, pressing up on shaky legs to climb over him—Eddie grips at your wrist instantly, eyes turned up in question, “—bathroom, hot shot.”

“Do you need help?” Eddie asks softly, rubbing at the tender spot on the inside of your wrist.

“I think I can manage.” You tell him, pulling at his grasp until you can lean over him, pressing your lips against his tenderly, the soft bellow of smoke pouring into your own mouth.

Eddie chuckles softly, tracing his pointer finger over your lips slowly, a smile pulling at your face.

“God, I fuckin’ love you.” He says warmly, finger pressing under your chin to tilt your face up to look at him. “You have no idea.”

You hum softly in response, “I beg to differ.”

Because you knew that feeling was shared—and just as intensely as you felt it, you knew he did too.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #my writing #1kfic

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ghost-proofbaby · 7 months

Text

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER FOUR: CASTLES CRUMBLING

AND HERE I SIT ALONE, BEHIND WALLS OF REGRET. FALLING DOWN LIKE PROMISES I NEVER KEPT.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, mentions of RUMORS of workplace sex scandal, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.4K+

☆ A/N: if you would like to listen to the song that eddie is recording at the end - it is an actual, real life song. :-) it is called "blood sport" by sleep token (one of my favorite bands i get to see live next week!!), and i highly recommend listening to it during your reading. especially the latter half of this chapter.

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

“Alright, so – anyone care to fill me in on what the Hell that was?”

Matt stands like a disapproving father figure as the band lines up opposite of him just outside the building. Eddie had hoped nothing would be mentioned until they were in the car, but the driver was clearly running a few minutes late.

Three of the boys glance at each other, worried expressions immediately giving up the hoax even as Eddie only shrugs and says, “What do you mean?”

“Cut the shit, Munson,” Matt had never appeared so livid, so undone by irritation. His usual patience with Eddie is nonexistent, “What’s going on between you and that girl? Is she a past groupie?”

The insinuation gets a scoff out of Gareth. Jeff side-eyes him in warning, but Eddie couldn’t care less, “No, she’s not a past groupie. This was the first time I’d ever-”

“Don’t lie to me,” Matt points an accusatory finger at Eddie, narrowing his eyes, “I am your manager. If you have any unsavory connections with that girl, I need to know so I can decide if we need someone else to organize the event. We are not having another repeat of the Lewinsky scandal.”

“I knew it! I fucking knew you called it that, too!” Gareth cheers, but he’s quieted by one look from their furious manager.

The Lewinsky scandal had been their code-word for when the tabloids had become convinced that Eddie was fucking an assistant at the label. A girl had even come forward and claimed to have had sexual relations with Eddie, and he had taken heat for it for a full month before the buzzing novelty worn off.

Eddie had only spoken three words to the girl. No, thank you when she’d offered him a mug of coffee during a late night at the studio. He wishes now he’d been less polite.

And he also finds himself wishing that’s all this was. He wishes you were just another scandal, another terrible rumor spread around. If all the accusations between you two were false, if all the hatred was based on misconstrued circumstances, it would be so much easier. He can talk himself out of that. He can confess to those sins and get off with no more than the order of one hail mary from Matt.

But you? The reality of all that had happened, both all those years ago and just thirty minutes ago? He can’t find the words. They choke him up, unwilling to leave the cavern of his chest and enter the world, just like all the songs gathering dust as demos.

“It’s not going to be another Lewinsky scandal,” Eddie scowls, feet shuffling against the concrete below him. Can’t be another Lewinsky scandal if she wants nothing to do with me anymore, “Maybe she just doesn’t like me. I am allegedly a very polarizing public figu-”

The car pulls up, and Matt is quick to grab Eddie’s shoulder before glaring at the boys, “Get in, I’m not finished with our polarizing public figure yet.”

Grant and Gareth only let out low whistles, following instruction without lingering as they clamber into the back row of seats in the SUV. Jeff takes his time, though, going as far to pause beside Eddie and place a hand on his back.

“Just tell him the truth, Eds.”

It’s the final nail in his coffin. Eddie is cursing Jeff’s retreating figure as he climbs into the vehicle and shuts the door, leaving him alone with Matt.

“Explain,” Matt demands, “Now.”

Eddie’s eyes focus on a gaping crack in the sidewalk, jagged and uneven, right down the center.

He has two options. He could continue to lie, insist he knows nothing about you until Matt just gets bored of not being offered the truth. Or he could admit it all, reveal the muse behind the art he had been fiercely protecting over these last few months. Every line, every chord, every broken note that had left his lungs during those witching hours in the studio.

On one hand, it’ll rip away the opportunity that has been offered to him on a silver platter – the opportunity for closure. Selfish, bloody closure that neither of you had gotten, it seemed. But on the other hand, it might grant him some sympathy. Matt, the label, the producers – they had all grown tired of the dance Eddie led them in every time they’d inquire about the music. But if Matt knew-

It’s a dead end trail of thought. He knows he won’t admit to the worst of his atrocities he’s committed. No scandal, no late night ending with him in handcuffs, no fraudulent headline is going to compare to what he did to you. What you did to him.

It’s a little too late for damage control, anyways.

“I went to high school with her,” the lie works well enough, easing some of Matt’s frustration, “I was just shocked to see her. All of us were shocked to see her. No big deal.”

Eddie knows the people around him have come to learn that they must pick and choose the battles they engage in with him. And he can see that decision flash across Matt’s face as he decides that this is not a battle necessary to the war.

“Alright. But if you’re lying to me-“

“I’m not lying.”

“If you are, that’ll be one of my last straws, Munson.”

It won’t be. Eddie knows it won’t be. Everyone, every single goddamn person in this world it seems, is capable of giving Eddie Munson unlimited chances — except you. You, it seemed, were the only person who had come to their senses.

You always were smarter than people gave you credit for.

—

“Run the track again.”

They’d spent a few hours in the studio already. It was an odd hour for them to be haunting the space, more used to visiting in the dead of night rather than the middle of a weekday, but it was down to the wire now. Vocals needed to be recorded, instrumentals fine-tuned, tracks properly mastered. Eddie could no longer hide in the night when it came to recording the haunting melodies stained with the blood of his past — no matter how wrong it felt to see a sliver of sunlight breaking through one of the windows, just through the top of the blackout curtains.

“I really think that was the one, man-“ the producer starts, probably just tired after repeatedly running in circles with Eddie’s perfectionism.

He doesn’t care. He’s paying them, they can stand to let him re-record as many times as necessary to satisfy Eddie, “Run it again.”

The silence only continues to buzz in Eddie’s headphones. He’s ready to cuss out the producer as he angrily shoves them down, off his ears and hanging loosely around his neck, the wire a leash as he whips to face the one-way glass wall. The lights are off at the main board, guaranteeing that they can see Eddie but Eddie can’t see them.

Until suddenly, the light comes back on, and the reason for the absence of the repeated track Eddie had requested becomes obvious.

Gareth.

He stands at the center of it all, a few paces from the seated producer with a deep scowl on his face.

“What the fuck?” Eddie says, mouth just close enough to the mic for them to catch his overflowing annoyance, “I said-“

“We heard what you said, Eddie,” Gareth interrupts, his voice just loud enough to be faintly heard even as the headphones curl around the nape of Eddie’s neck, “But I need to talk to you.”

It’s the strictest tone that Gareth has used on their lead singer in an unfathomably measure of time. Probably because it’s the most words he’s said to Eddie in a very long time, as well.

Eddie finally removes the headphones, hanging them carelessly on the mic stand and moving towards the door — surprisingly, without putting up a resistance.

The control room is warmer than the fairly large area that served as a ‘booth’. Smaller, as well. Cramped with a low couch and one too many chairs available to trip over, the control board spanses the entire wall that holds the oversized window into the recording room. A plethora of small lights twinkle like stars, and numerous switches that Eddie had come to know better than the back of his hand alternate positions to guarantee the clearest sound. Only Gareth and the producer occupy the room, the rest of the band having taken off around the fifth time Eddie had requested a redo of his vocal tracking.

“This better be good,” Eddie complains, furrowing his brows, agitated at the interruption.

But Gareth shows no remorse, “We need to talk.”

“Yeah, you said that already.”

“We need to talk,” Gareth repeats, eyes flickering to the poor soul still seated at the controls, “Alone.”

Eddie hardly has to open his mouth, the man jumping out of his seat the moment the lead singer flicks his wrist to signal for him to leave.

Whatever Gareth was about to say had to be important, and it’s that thought rather than the difference in temperatures that has sweat building on Eddie’s brows.

Is he about to quit the band? Is he about to tell me he’s had enough? Maybe he’s done with my bullshit — I would be.

“Speak, Emerson,” Eddie flatly insists, grabbing a small water bottle out of one of the mini fridges in the room before he throws himself onto the worn leather of the couch, “And make it quick. We’re on a time limit, you kno-“

“We’ve gotta talk about her, man.”

Her as in you.

For a moment, Gareth sounds like a friend again. He’s dropped all the persistent perturbation he’s taken to defending himself with when it comes to Eddie, his voice pleading as he stands before the distant man. All the rueful power plays that had developed over the last year vanish. It’s just Eddie and Gareth, bandmates who started out in the latter’s garage in some small Indiana town. Not Eddie Munson, infamous rockstar with a chip on his shoulder. Not Gareth Emerson, passionate drummer overshadowed by the ego of his lead singer. Just Eddie and Gareth.

“We all know you didn’t tell Matt the truth.”

“I did tell him the truth-“

“Not the whole truth, then. There’s no way he’d let it slide if he knew that she was your ex-girlfriend.”

The defiance vacates Eddie’s body quickly. He doesn’t even attempt to prowl his mind for a quick quip in response. All he does at the words is drop his shoulders, the defeat creeping up on him as he deflates.

Ex-girlfriend. The title feels so pitiful to truly describe what you were to him.

But to be fair, even when he had been in your good graces, girlfriend had also never felt significant enough.

“Did-“ Gareth starts after a beat of silence, noting the way Eddie couldn’t quite hide his wounds on the topic, “What did you guys talk about? When you went after her, what did she say?”

“Nothing important.”

Eddie turns into a shell, a zombie as he stares straight ahead and tries to compartmentalize. That always worked; with meetings, with arguments, with lectures. Even before the fame, it worked.

It doesn’t work quite as quickly when it comes to you. His brain, it seems, is incapable of uncrossing all the wires you twist within his brain.

“You two were alone for, what, ten minutes? And you’re telling me she didn’t say anything important?”

“What the fuck is there to say?” Eddie laughs soullessly, “Oh, hey, stranger! Remember me? The guy you up and left without a word?”

“Yes!” Gareth shouts unexpectedly, “Yes, that’s exactly what you should have done! She left. Not just you, but all of us. We never even really knew why. And now- what? Are we just supposed to pretend we don’t know her?”

Eddie knew why. She’d never had to say it, and that was the issue. He always thought about all the answers he swore he craved, and always let every question he claimed to have haunt him during the waking hours. But when the day turned to night, when he was left to nothing but his own devices in a dark and empty apartment during the witching hours, he knew. The question of why had been answered since the first phone call cut short with you during that goddamn tour.

The songs knew, too. He supposes it had been an arrogant assumption to believe the band had read into his lyrics and put the pieces together.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Eddie nearly whispers, throat tightening and fighting him on the words. It’s the opposite of what he wants and needs — but it’s what you want and what you need. And so he plays the messenger, even as it kills him, “We are going to completely disregard my past with her. We are going to treat this entire situation as professionally as possible. I’m talking the full nine yards: you will not mention the fact that we know her, you will not question her about anything from the past, and you will not, under any circumstances, ask her why.”

His own set of rules he’d privately set for himself in his own mind during the car ride over.

Gareth squints his eyes in disbelief, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Are you serious?”

“Deathly so.”

“This isn’t just about your past with her,” the boy nearly passes, starts to reach up to tug on his hair before he thinks better of it, “This is about the way she left all of us. Not just you. She was a friend to all of us. She was the one who taught me how to tape my drums when I’d bust a hole in them, she was the one who helped us design our first merch, she was the only person any of us would let be in the room during practices. And not just the band stuff, either,” Eddie watches tears form in Gareth’s eyes, “She was the only one who had the patience to help me with my fucking math homework back in school, man. She was the one who nearly curb stomped Jason Carver the week he sent Grant home with a black eye. She was the first person Jeff called when his parents broke news of their divorce, for fucks sake. Not me, not you, not any of us — her,” Gareth’s breaths come out as pants as he stops his pacing and stands before Eddie. The tears continue to lace his bottom lash line as he heaved silently at the end of his rant, his pained expression completely unexpected to Eddie.

This is the part Eddie chooses to forget. He’ll let himself swim in the memory of you late at night, he’ll indulge in vices that always amplify his pain rather than succeeding in his attempt to numb it, he’ll stare down the mirror each morning and curse the reflection he finds with all the blame in the world he is capable of holding in the palms of his hands. But in all the ruptures of his own old scars, he fails to consider that he is not the only one burdened with loss.

They all lost you. When Eddie lost you, so did the band. You’d become a ghost to more than just your abandoned lover — you’d become a tired haunt to boys you’d known, boys you’d befriended and burrowed your way into the lives of, just as well.

“She was our friend,” Gareth chokes out, fists curling at his sides, “Jesus Christ, I- I get it. She was everything to you. Whatever. But she meant a lot to the rest of us, too. Whatever happened wasn’t just some isolated event — you two didn’t just hurt each other. You set off whatever bomb erased her from our lives, but it left the rest of us with some damage, too. Don’t forget that.”

This is the part where Eddie should apologize. This is the part where, once upon a blissful time, he would have said his repentance.

He doesn’t.

“I don’t care how hurt anyone is,” he lowly responds, eyes unable to meet Gareth’s any longer, “I’ve told you the rules, we’re going to follow them. End of discussion.”

Gareth throws back his head, and Eddie winces at his scoff, “She’s not your fucking property, Eddie! She isn’t solely yours to keep or whatever the fuck you think you’re doing!”

Eddie can’t even deny the action of keeping you. All the demos, all the songs laid to the grave because he couldn’t stomach the thought of releasing them for others to experience.

But that’s not what this was. This, the cataclysm that was sending Gareth to finally release all this pent up frustration, was him following your rules. You’d made your wishes for this project very clear, and he needed to at least try to respect them. They all did.

So he takes on the role of the bad guy. He lets them paint him as the villain if it means no red will stain your ledger.

“Oh, I think she’s made it very clear that she isn’t mine,” the mask slips on far too easily for Eddie. Cool demeanor, compartmentalizing. Not you, but his emotions towards his friends, if he could even still call them that. His bandmates that he had once seen as brothers. “Doesn’t change what I said. Don’t push it, Emerson, or there’ll be Hell to pay.”

“What are you going to do? Disappear on us?” Eddie finally looks back up to meet Gareth’s fiery gaze as he spits out hateful words, “Hate to break it to you, but you already left this band behind two years ago. And if you ask me, you should start leaving the vanishing act to her. At least she doesn’t make us pay for her mistakes.”

Eddie is by no means done with the conversation, more than willing to continue fighting with Gareth, but the other boy clearly feels differently. He leaves his words hanging in the air as he spins away, storming out of the door, the air in the studio now several degrees hotter now with the irate fuel of the fight.

It was all a blood sport. All of it. It didn’t matter if Eddie was fighting with the band, the management, with you. It was all bloody and fruitless, and it all left him the same awful type of hollow in the end.

He stares blankly at the wall as he makes a silent decision.

By the time the producer has timidly returned to the room, Eddie has already set up his laptop to connect to the studio's system, prepped so that any recording would automatically copy into his personal hard drive. A way for him to listen and ruminate in the privacy of his own apartment.

The sheet music torn from his notebook already lays at the table besides the entrance to the booth.

“Do you… want to run the track again?” the man, the stranger, asks. He clearly heard the fight. Eddie and Gareth hadn’t been exactly quiet in their screaming match. At least, Gareth hadn’t been.

Is it really a screaming match if only one side fights back?

“I want to lay a new track,” Eddie’s voice is deadpan as he clicks a few buttons, finalizing everything. He only needs the man to click record, “A raw piano and vocal demo. We can add the rest of the band later.”

“I-“

One look from Eddie, hardly passed over his shoulder with a glimmer of unbridled determination, and the man quiets as he takes his seat.

Eddie storms into the booth without another word, fist curled around the page of lyrics and terribly hand-drawn music clefts.

She isn’t yours to keep.

Eddie was aware of that. Painfully, painfully aware. But it had never been about his claim to you.

Gareth was right. Eddie never wanted to own you. Keeping you, however, had been something he should have taken more care with.

The chill of the small room to record in does little to lessen the flames eating Eddie up as he bypasses the assembly of various instruments all crowded in the space. Gareth’s drum set, Jeff’s guitar, Grant’s bass — he storms right past them, eyes locked on the grand piano in the fair corner. It took up the most space, far too large to have been forced to be contained within this compact room.

Eddie drags the mic from where it had been stationed previously with him, quickly and recklessly resetting it at the piano.

Once he’s seated on the bench, crumpled pages thrown up onto the music desk of the piano and headphones snug over his ears again, the producer finally clicks on his mic to speak.

“Hey, uh… Does this demo have a name by chance? Or do you just want to label it as an unknown for now?”

It certainly does have a name.

“Blood Sport,” Eddie spits out. “Just name the file Blood Sport.”

The hum that would indicate to Eddie when those on the other side of that glass window were speaking clicks off, and he takes it as his cue.

He’d written the song a while before. There were some gaps in the lyrics, some notes he’d played with on his personal piano scribbled over and never replaced. He’d never played it in its entirety before.

It starts slow. His fingers hold the ivory keys delicately, arranging for the first opening notes as if he were slotting his knuckles against your own for the first time over again.

She isn’t yours to solely keep.

Were you ever his to keep, ever?

Even the ivory keys of the Steinway are more solid than you ever were. You were nothing more than water, than blood, destined to slip between Eddie’s fingers. He never stood a chance in having you, in holding you, in keeping you.

Not just now, but before all the blood shed, as well. He should have recognized Cassandra’s curse the first day he looked into your eyes. He should have known the twist in his stomach was only Fate sinking its claws into the two of you.

A tale fit for a Shakespearean stage — a tragedy always meant to be.

“I want to roll the numbers, I want to feel my stars align again.”

Eddie’s voice is soft to match the steady beat of piano notes that emit from the crooked curl of his hand against the keys. A soft thump, a gentle lull. And instead of losing himself in the music, he finds himself wrapped up in one of the many memories he’d chosen to lock away for the last two years.

Something was off.

Eddie’s stomach had twisted with anxiety of something being wrong for weeks. You stopped answering his calls, his texts, every form of connection with him. But as he stood in front of the door to your shared apartment, the bile rose even higher in his throat.

He smelt the decay of what he had done before his key had even entered the lock.

“Would you invite me again? Won’t you pay for your arrogance? Won’t you show me your weakness?”

You were never his to keep.

His voice nearly cracks as he approaches the first chorus, not finding the strength behind the vocals he’d always envisioned for the song.

The click of the door opening echoed through the apartment. It felt empty the moment he’d crossed the threshold – you could have just been tucked away in the bedroom, or even in the bathroom, but he knew.

You hadn’t been returning his phone calls. You hadn’t been returning his texts. He knew something had happened, something had changed. Irreversible damage had been done, and he would now have to face the mess he’d created to return home to.

“I made loving you a blood sport.”

He repeats the line until it rings in his head, over and over. Until he swears the words could crack his bones, and the stars that will show in the night sky will do nothing but mock him for the self-inflicted pain.

At first, he convinced himself you just weren’t home. You’d gone to the store or to see friends. You’d be home soon enough and then, the two of you could scream at each other all you wanted. You were angry with him, rightfully so, but he’d rather you yell and scrap with him than the alternative. He didn’t care. Because he was here, back in the flesh and willing to take any and all cruel words you had sharpened for him. The two of you would fight, yes, but at least that meant there was still something there worth fighting for.

After the first three hours, he realized with a sinking stomach that the alternative might just be his reality.

“I want to be forgiven.”

He recalls the look on your face when you’d first seen him today. The fall of your act, the discarding of grace and composure.

The look that told him that he can want all he’s capable of. He can want, he can crave, he can yearn, he can tear himself apart bit by bit with his feeble yet shattering cravings — it won’t change a thing.

You were never his to keep.

After the clock struck the fifth hour of his return, he started his calling.

Over and over and over, he was met with your voicemail. Endless messages spoken and sent alike. Every single one trying to be gentle as they inquired where you were. Letting you know he was back. Going as far as to ask you if the two of you could talk.

He wanted to fight. He wanted to fight, because it meant you still saw something worthy within him.

But even more than Eddie wanted a fight, he wanted you to come home. He wanted you to be there, to welcome him into your safety and remind him he was human again. It was selfish – he was so goddamn selfish – but he needed to feel your skin against his and remind him that he was still a person beneath it all. Beneath the demand, beneath the unwarranted adoration from strangers, beneath all the fractures the sudden traction had left him with – he was still a breathing, living person. He was still your person.

Eddie’s fingers begin to slam against the keys with increasing urgency as his chest heaves out with every syllable. Repeating, and repeating, and repeating the chorus as if it changes a single thing. He loses himself in it all; in the music ringing in his ears and the memories now drowning him as he confesses all his sins to the microphone.

You never came home.

There was no fight, and after the hours reached double digits right along with his ignored phone calls, he had to accept the truth.

You weren’t just at a friend’s, or the store. You were gone. Truly, truly gone.

The drawers once filled with your belongings were vacant. The smell of your perfume was nothing more than a whisper across the pillows. Eddie scoured the entire apartment for signs of you, turning every single piece of furniture over looking for clues. He never thought to check the counter until he’d already ruined the space, terrorizing it in a frenzy before his eyes landed on the letter and the key.

He had approached them both hesitantly. All his denial drained from his body, like the blood pumping through his veins, as his fingers pinched that silver key so gingerly.

A past he can never return to. A home he will never hold the key to again.

The joints of his fingers ache and his lungs begin to burn for all that he lost — all that they all lost — because of him. His own foolishness, his own downfall. He did this.

The aftermath is blurry.

He read the first few words of your letter before promptly crumbling it with his tortured fist, knowing exactly what it said without needing to fully swallow all the words just yet.

He never fully read the letter. He skimmed it, a week later, but not that night.

Then came the flashes of the pain. The way he’d swung his fists at air and menial objects alike. A vase holding wilted carnations met its demise on the kitchen floor, a hole in the wall appeared that he later had to patch up, one of the coffee tables ended up across the living room with a leg splintered half off.

He never dropped the key.

Even as he dropped to his knees in the center of the broken glass, bleeding shins to match his bruising knuckles, he still held that small piece of silver fiercely. He pressed it so tightly, dug it so deeply into his palm that it later left a scar. And not even the way he had grabbed at the broken glass surrounding him had the capability to mar it away as he let it slice his skin, crying out, hopeless and devastated.

You were gone. He had lost you, and he had been arrogant enough to never even notice it.

“You say it doesn’t matter.”

The headphones had long since slipped off his head, and he makes no move to adjust them. He hadn’t even noticed that his body had begun to fall forward and curl into the piano until he’s weakly choking out the final lyric that he hadn’t even written down onto the page.

He hadn’t noticed the tears falling, either.

What were meant to be gasps for air as his fingers fly across the keys in a haunting melody are only sobs. Cries of pain as he no longer can see mere inches ahead of him, a scar of the center of his palm stinging as if brand new, his heart and head pounding in sync. He isn’t even sure if the producer he’s forgotten the name of is still recording. He lets the sobs slip out as he continues to play.

He can’t quite end the song yet. The moment he does, he’s terrified of the version of him that he will have to face once more. All those surface blemishes from the beginning of the end had run deeper beneath his skin. He was nothing more than rubble and fractures now, splintered every which way until he had become unrecognizable. When he looked in the mirror, all he could see was a creature of destruction.

“You set off whatever bomb erased her from our lives, but it left the rest of us with some damage, too. Don’t forget that,” Gareth’s voice echoes in the silence beginning to gather between the notes.

Another wrecked sob leaves Eddie as he finally finishes off the melody, playing entirely unaffected up until that point. Reality crashes down. His body shakes, shoulders hunched as his forehead connects against the freezing wood of the piano and he pinches his eyes shut tightly enough to be left in total blackness.

He couldn’t play another note if his life depended upon it.

The memory fades with the final note before his head rattles with a new image. The smile, the grimace, you had offered him before you two parted ways today. An effort at professionalism that Eddie had seen right through.

Pain. That’s what had twitched in the corners of your mouth. The same pain, if not worse, as the one that now radiated through every atom of Eddie’s broken figure on the piano bench.

He can’t fix it. Not your pain, not Gareth’s pain, not his own pain. The time for damage control, for sincere apologies and any reconciliation has passed. Just like watered-down blood through his fingertips.

Eddie hopes that the producer has had half the mind to stop the recording when he stands and slams the drumset behind him into the wall. Destructive, just as he had been the night he returned to an empty apartment. Just as he had been when he’d been the one to rot and wither away all that you two had once held between you.

They can replace the drum set. Surely, he has a person for that.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @gagasbee @d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n

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#ghost's writing #eddie munson #maroon #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #rockstar eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #finally long enough tag lists to separate lol #voila! corroded coffin is sleep token! wahoo!#i recommend everyone listen to the discography of that band #just sayin #(dial tone is the only non sleep token song that is canon here)#i just can't let go of the death grip i have on that song when it comes to this fic #it was either gonna be catch your breath sleep token or bad omens #and sleep token captures the yearning #Spotify

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myosotisa · 6 months

Text

Hands Where I Can't See Them

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

‖ summary: Eddie comes home with something new for you both to try.

‖ tags: smut, minors dni!! p in v, sex furniture/paraphernalia, technically bondage, dirty talk, slightly implied dom/sub, low effort smut. nicknames are baby, angel, sweet girl. no y/n.

‖ word count: 1.3k

“What… is this thing?

You turned the object over and over in your hands, your mind reeling with possibilities. Eddie remained in his cocky lean against the door frame to your bedroom – eyes curious and intense as he watches you examine what he’d brought.

The object was covered in a black velvet, smooth to the touch and obviously brand new. The main portion was rectangular in shape, filled with a firm foam-like cushion. On one of the long sides, there were two hollow extensions extending out in a V shape. Looking inside the cylindrical extensions, you can see more black velvet that continues down into the center of the bottom piece.

“Got any guesses?” He asked in return, a cheeky, taunting grin on his face as he took a few steps closer towards the foot of the bed.

Eyebrows drawing together on your forehead in confusion and concentration as you turned it around a few more times. “It kinda looks like one of those nap pillows?” You offer, unsure in your guess. “Like, arms go in here and then you rest your head on the cushion at the end.”

To illustrate your point, you stuck your arms in either of the holes, finding handles on the inside that you quickly grabbed onto.

“That’s actually surprisingly close!” Eddie admits, looking proud. “You’re definitely right about your arms.” He puts one of his knees on the bed and then the other, keeping himself high above you as he shuffles closer. The look on his face is familiar – devilish and excited. It makes your heart skip a beat as you watch him in unrestrained adoration. Still affected by him so intensely even after all this time.

“Want me to show you?”

Less than an hour later you’re both down to only your underwear on your bed, Eddie pressing you down onto the bed with his body as he flicks his tongue against the seam of your lips. You’ve completely forgotten about the new thing at this point – thoroughly distracted as he rocks the hard ridge of his cock against your cunt until you’re both panting into each other's mouths.

He pulls back slightly, ducking his head down to press sloppy kisses across your throat. “You ready, angel?” He asks in a rasp, hot air skating across your skin in a way that makes you shiver.

Not even really sure what he’s referring to at this point, you just mindlessly nod and mumble an ‘Uh-huh’ as you hold his narrow waist above your thighs. He takes your hands as he shifts back onto his knees between your legs, gently pulling you upright by your wrists. You follow, because you always will, and let him manipulate you onto knees and turn you to face away from him.

Tattooed arms circle you, holding the cushion a bit off the bed to allow you to stick your arms into it. “Go on then,” he encourages in a low rumble, nudging his nose against the shell of your ear. “Stick your arms in.”

Goosebumps break out across your neck in response to his words as you follow his instructions, sticking both arms inside and taking hold of the inner straps.

“Good girl,” he cooes, releasing the cushion into your hold as he runs his palms up and down your arms. “Now lay down on your front, okay? With the cushion down, under your hips.” He continues sweetly, hands assisting you in shuffling down onto your stomach without being able to use your hands.

Your cheek hits the sheets, chest pushed flat as you settle your weight. Your hands are trapped below your pelvis inside the firm cushion that props your hips up, allowing the cold air of the room to hit your warm, wet center.

Eddie whistles as his hands paw at you from behind, squeezing along your thighs, hips, and sides. “Look at you,” he says softly, an almost childlike wonder in his tone. “Look good enough to eat, all laid out like this for me.”

The mental image of him eating you out from behind has you squirming in place, your movement restricted by your pinned arms. “Shh, shh, shh…” He coaxes, bringing his hands up to your shoulder and then drawing them down the arch in your back. “Maybe another time, baby. For now, I wanna show you what this thing can do.”

Wasting little time, he shucks both of your bottoms, rubbing his long, slender fingers along your folds to take a quick feel of you. “Oh baby…” He sighs, playfully demeaning as he presses one finger inside you. “You’re soaked. Are you excited? I promise, it’s gonna feel so fucking good for you.”

You nod, your cheek rubbing against the sheets as you try to glance back at him. “I’m ready, show me, Eddie.

While he normally would have spent more time trying to stretch you out, make sure he won’t hurt you, he accepts your insistence that you’re ready and runs the tip of his cock along your cunt, making sure to nudge against your clit a few times before pressing inside.

The stretch is just as delicious as always as he slowly pushes his way further into you – pulling out slightly and then pushing in just a bit further in slow thrusts. You hum happily, enjoying his gentle start, until he just about bottoms out.

“Pay attention, angel,” he taunts, continuing to slowly move in and out without giving you all of him yet. “You’re gonna love this.”

Before you can reply, he firmly thrusts fully inside, pausing as his balls lightly tap against your thighs. With your hips angled this way, and with your hands directly below your pelvis to put pressure on your lower stomach, he rubs directly against that spot along your front wall that’s normally hard to find – a surprised moan tumbling out of your mouth as your legs twitch.

He chuckles immediately, pulling back an inch just to push back in and hit it again to a similar response. “Feel that?” He taunts, the rocking of his hips slowly increasing in speed and strength. “Perfect right?”

And sure enough, he’s right. Even as he gets faster and less controlled in his rutting against you, he still manages a direct hit on g-spot each time.

“Y– yeah, it’s perfect,” you confirm with a stuttered nod, your breathing pressing out of you faster as he continues to pick up the pace.

“Fuck yeah it is,” he says, and you can hear the manic grin in his words. His hands grip your hips hard, assisting in pulling your hips back harshly against his. “Can feel you gripping me – fuck – she’s just sucking me back in.” He hisses out through clenched teeth, his fingertips digging in to your flesh as a harsh moan bursts from your throat.

“Y’know what we’re gonna do with this little toy, angel?” He asks, voice low and rough as he continues to fuck into you in a way that makes it impossible for you to answer him. “Gonna keep going – make you come over and over and over again,” he pauses to pant in a few gulps of air, obviously working himself up as he explains his fantasy. “Won’t stop until you squirt, ‘til you make a big, wet mess all over me. You want that, baby? You want me to fuck you ‘til you come all over us both?”

“Fuck Eddie –” you cry out, arms instinctively pulling against where they’re pinned, wanting so badly to twist your fists in the sheets to stay grounded. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” he reassures you as he presses forward, sweaty chest aligning with your arching back. His tone is almost cruel as he crushes you further down onto the cushion beneath your hips, pleasure increasing sharply in response. “I’m not gonna stop anytime soon.”

thanks for reading my low effort smut that came to me in a vision!! let me know if you liked it. and if you can't picture the thing, let me know and i'll make a shitty drawing of it lol i dont know if it's real or not.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #myos ideas #myo4munson #if this sucks dont tell me

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eddiesghxst · 9 months

Text

ALL I WANTED

part one | part two | part three

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader

summary: your band, Daughters of Vampira, and Corroded Coffin hate each other and are struggling to keep a clean image in the media; so, in an attempt to solve the issue, your managers try to come up with a solution.

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, smoking, cheating (reader is cheated on by her fiancé), themes of misogyny/sexism, and eddie being a dick <3

word count: 12.9k

| Daughters of Vampira setlist | Corroded Coffin setlist |

-story masterlist- | -main masterlist-

You were a musician. A rockstar. On your way to being one of the greats. Your band, Daughters of Vampira, was a small, feminist rock band out of Hawkins, Indiana. You created this band with your friends, Robin, Nancy, and Max, an outlet the four of you used to sing and write your little hearts out. You hit it big when you all moved to Los Angeles, playing at some lame bar when a producer walked up to you after the show, saying she wanted to see more, handing you a business card.

Then boom.

Everything was up from there. You got signed onto a record deal– played shows, signed autographs, walked carpets, and did interviews. Your wallet was a bottomless pit. En route to being wed, you got engaged to your production assistant turned bassist, and all was well— until about five minutes ago.

You came home from a day at the studio with your band, crafting a new song, playing with guitar riffs, and imagining lyrics. This track was going to be big; a song about your love for your fiance, a tale of how magnetic and beautiful every second was and will be.

You unlocked the door to your shared apartment, kicking off your sneakers, when you noticed a pair of red heels, which is weird because you hate heels. Maybe they were your friend Angie’s shoes; she knows where you hide your spare key and sometimes sneaks in when you’re not home. Furrowing a brow, you cautiously set your bag and keys down, looking around you for any more clues— her bag or her keys, anything. Your socked feet softly pad across your cold, wooden floors as you walk into the apartment's threshold, glancing into the kitchen. Nothing. You turned to the living room, unknowingly holding your breath—still nothing. Suspicion itches in your mind as you take in the space around you. You turn the corner to your bedroom and see the door left ajar.

You almost think nothing of it; you wouldn’t be mad at Angie taking a nap in your room; she’s your childhood best friend, but then you hear it— the two voices. The first voice is your fiance, Scott, and the second is an unknown woman.

They’re laughing. They’re whispering about something you can’t hear either because they’re either speaking too quietly or your sudden rage is filling out the space in your ears; you’re not sure which it is. You quickly glance back towards the door, eyeing the heels for the second time— your heart drops.

It was Angie. Those were her heels; you helped her pick them out, for fucks sake. You storm up to the door and swing it open without a second thought, and your eyes widen at the sight before you. You had so badly wished your mind was playing some sick trick on you, and you were just hearing things. You were wrong.

Your fiance and childhood best friend, Angie, are sprawled out in your white-sheeted bed, heads laid on your pillows tousled, under your roof— and both incredibly naked.

Despite the anger, your eyes quickly fill with tears, salty pools of resentment and betrayal threatening to spill over. Scott sees you in the doorway and scrambles out of bed, hastily grabbing a pair of boxers to pull over his bare hips. You can hear him sputtering out excuses, apologies, and reasons through the fog— so many words that sound like nothing but white noise to you.

He stumbles his way over to you, hands reaching out to grasp you and raising in surrender when you yank away from him. You can hardly think; a cloudy moment where you feel as if the floor has been wiped from below you and you’re free-falling in some shitty excuse of a dream.

“Sweetheart, please just listen–” He didn’t get to finish his sentence; the palm of your hand cracked down against his cheek to stop whatever bullshit excuse was coming. Angie shrieked, jumping out of bed, still with no clothes on, as she hurried to his side, an obvious two-against-one— that’s clarified when she shoots you a pointed look, fire building up in her eyes— and you can’t believe the audacity.

Scott looks back at you, cheek red with the sting of your rage as he points a finger at you, “Don’t you dare fucking touch her,” he scolds as if you were a child, warning you to leave the cookie jar alone. You scoff, your mouth falling agape as you laugh humorlessly. “Me? Touch her?” You point to the naked girl. Your neck heats in fury as you shake your head, “That is rich, Scott.”

You step back, eyeing both of them and ignoring the lump in your throat as you speak, “So, how long has this been going on?” They stare at you like they’re fucking clueless, and it ticks you off to no end, “In my own fucking bed? With my best friend?” Your tears are hot as they begin streaming down your cheeks, and the harsh swipe of your wrist to wipe them away stings, but you refuse to let them see you cry. Your mind is cluttered with questions, but they come out like bullets, firing round after round.

Angie takes to answering you, saying your name to halt your questions, “We– we’re in love, and… and he doesn’t..” She looks to Scott for guidance, her eyes pleading for him to help her. Your fingers shake in anger.

“I want to call the wedding off,” Scott says, looking you in the eyes while he and your best friend link fingers. They look fucking stupid, standing there naked and feigning unity– you almost want to laugh. You scoff again, folding your arms over your chest like that would hide your pain from them, despite the evident ghost of tears still clinging to your skin.

You glance around the room, around at the life you had planned for yourself, for him. Pictures of your engagement day, the closet you two shared, the fucking bed you shared, the life the two of you shared. More tears fall, and you don’t bother brushing them away this time. You nod, defeated. “Yeah, that’s– yeah, we can… we can do that.” You wipe at your tears, fingers shaking with agony as you swallow the words.

Your ex-fiance reaches out for your arm, and you back away, like he’s contagious– like his touch carries the heat of the sun. “Don’t touch me,” you snarled, watery gaze boring into his brown eyes.

“The wedding’s off, so… Take your shit and,” you look at your childhood best friend— your ex-childhood best friend, and your heart aches. This fucking hurts. Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you dismissively wave your hand towards the clothes strewn across the floor, “And take her shit and get the fuck out.” You turn to leave but stop when Scott speaks, “I can’t just do that; I–” He stutters at the stab of your glare, “I need to call a truck so I can carry everything.”

You laugh, tilting your head, “Nah, don’t worry, I can help you with that.”

You pace to your apartment window, swinging it open and ignoring the confused voices behind you when you start picking up various items. Scott’s eyes widen as he watches you storm over to the window, a heap of his things in your arms. He scrambles to you, yelling as you toss his stuff out the window. He’s looking out the window, watching them fall, “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” You shriek after every item you throw: his computer, acoustic guitar, books on Logistics, and How To Save Money Like A Businessman.

You flutter about the room, shaking Angie off when she tries to grab you, ignoring her when she falls to the floor in a heap of naked limbs. You pick up a pricey statue that was Scott’s, ignoring his protests, courteously tossing it out the window to join his items.

You storm out of the room, glancing around for any of Scott’s stuff. Yes, this was your apartment, but you were working on sharing it— sharing it with him. Your fiance. Ex-fiance. You skirt out to the living room, the two lovebirds hot on your tail and begging you to stop. You walk over to the balcony doors, pushing them open and ignoring the sound of the doors cracking against the wall, some picture frames falling to the floor.

Pictures of you and him.

You pick them up and toss them over the balcony, looking around for any other fallen pieces. You thoroughly sweep your apartment— as thoroughly as you can through your tears of rage, gathering jackets, shirts, and shoes and carelessly tossing them over the balcony. You ignore them as they hastily put on their clothes, brushing past them to pace to the door.

Your gaze is hot and heavy on Angie’s heels. Those shiny, blood-red, smooth pumps. They oozed sex appeal and smirked at you, asking, daring, challenging you. Angie scrambles to you, yelling for you to put them down, yelling that they were Jimmy Choos, that they were expensive— like you would care.

You shrug her off as you walk back to the balcony, hanging them over the ledge and turning to gaze at her as she watches with tears brimming. Pathetic. You look into her eyes and drop them— one by one, “Fetch,” you whisper hoarsely.

Angie begins to cry, turning and running to Scott, who points an accusatory finger at you, “You’re a fucking crazy bitch. You couldn’t just end things like a civilized human fucking being?” He exclaims, “You are fucking insane!” He grits out, holding Angie by the waist. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and you better have my shit,” he says scathingly.

When they both have an appropriate amount of clothes on— Angie settling for one of his oversized shirts and panties, him with sweats— Scott hastily searches for his keys. You watch them both, numb and unmoving, and it feels like your body is vibrating in a storm of emotions. Scott finds his keys and wallet, yanking Angie by the hand and hauling her out the door, but not before he shoots you a glare— a look that tells you it’s over. Completely done with no room for redemption— you don’t care either way.

The door slams shut, and silence fills the space. You stand there for what seems like eons, basking in the fizzling heat of your emotions before shuffling towards your bag near the door and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. You search for your lighter, growing irritated when it seems to be missing. You toss your bag to the floor with a curse and walk to the gas stove, turning the knob until a rim of flames arises. You slip the cigarette between your snot-slick lips, ducking your head towards the stove top and watching the cancerous stick catch fire.

You stand upright, inhaling and puffing out the smoke. You grab your flip phone, shuffling towards the balcony for fresh air while you make a call, but to your dismay, a crowd is gathered below your building, watching and taking pictures. At closer glance, you realize these people are none other than paparazzi— the very bane of your existence. They’re already recording; you can hear them chattering about what they suspect is happening, making up stories for the cameras and soon-to-come tabloids.

Then, to make matters worse, Scott and Angie skirt out from the building entrance and start picking some items up, the paparazzi asking various intruding questions. Scott has enough grace and respect for you to deny a comment, opting for catching a taxi with Angie instead. With a roll of your eyes, you walk back into your apartment and busy yourself doing a shitty job clearing the mess you’d made. However, like clockwork, your phone rings.

You know it’s Miss Sinclair; well, Erica, as she always corrects you. Your music manager, a firecracker, that one, but overall a good friend on your side.

You answer, taking a drag from the cigarette as you step onto your terrace again, breathing out a cloud of smoke. “What?” You ask snappily into the phone, glancing down at the crowd of people taking pictures of you. Assholes.

”What? What do you mean, what?” Erica hisses through the speaker. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Tiger?” A nickname she has for you that originated from God knows where. “Yeah, like… what’s up?” You play dumb, smiling sarcastically and waving innocently to the cameras below you.

“Why the hell do I have people blowing my line asking me why you’re tossing shit onto the streets of Los Angeles like it’s a goddamn Goodwill?” She impatiently asks.

You shrug, even though she can’t see you, “Dunno. See you tomorrow at the studio.” You pull the phone away from your ear, hearing her shriek and yell at you, commanding you not to hang up. You slap the flip phone closed, ending the call; her words cut off. You take another drag of the cigarette before flicking the bud off the balcony at the intruders, watching them back away to glare at you, yelling a few curses. You flip them two middle fingers in response before turning to walk back into your apartment, closing the doors behind you.

You’re going to write a song. A kickass song.

“And then I threw all his shit out the fucking window,” you chuckle, retelling the story to your drinking companion, Robin Buckley, the drummer of your band. She smirks and downs another shot of vodka, “Yeah.. you uh,” she grimaces and smacks her lips at the bitter drink, “you created quite the stir earlier today,” She points at you and winks, picking up her forgotten glass of whiskey beside her and holding it out to you, in cheers.

You sigh and smile, and inevitably you clink your whiskey-filled glass against hers as she says, “To shitty men and new beginnings— preferably with women,” she winks again, laughing along with you as you lighten up from her joke. You down the rest of your drink and put your glass down, sucking your teeth before rolling your lips inward as you stare thoughtlessly, the whiskey leaving burning kisses in your throat.

The loud, underground celebrity-only bar drowns out behind you. What were you going to do? You had so much planned with Scott, an entire fucking wedding, a home, maybe even kids. And as if that’s not enough, you wrote an entire song about him. You were almost finished with it, so close to recording it and putting it out, maybe with tour dates to match.

Now it's gone. Dead and buried.

A whole song, written in 4 weeks, about your love, the love of your life, your supposed forever person, and he threw it all away. You knew love wasn’t easy. It never was, especially not after your rise to fame. It was hard to find time for date nights, for sex, for just seeing each other and talking. But you would’ve never imagined this to be how it ended.

You can’t help but feel as though this might have been your fault. Some small, pessimistic, mean part of you nagging that you could’ve prevented this if you had just changed. You tried to make time for Scott, you really did, but you got caught up in the music— the music for him. You worked tirelessly at it. For Scott to hear this song and immediately know it’s about him. You wanted it to be a wedding gift, maybe, to play it at your wedding for everyone to hear your love. You had never been so soft in a song, so open and disgustingly lovesick, and you wasted it all on him. Maybe it was your fault; perhaps it was for the better—

“Hey, you okay?” Robin cuts through your thoughts, “You went a little quiet there,” she smiles softly, playfully nudging her shoulder against yours. “Yeah,” you nod, “I-I’m good. Great.” You nod along with your words, trying fiercely to believe them.

You were not good, nor were you great. You were, to put it nicely, fucking wrecked. You were humiliated. How could anyone be okay after something like this? It was bad enough he cheated in the first place but with your best friend? You lost two of your closest people within the blink of an eye. It hurts more that they got each other while you got nothing but ghosts and memories. Scott was there for everything, your first real concert, the after-parties, the carpets. He was there for all of it. And he won’t be there anymore, and that hurts.

You shrug, laughing nervously and rubbing the bridge of your nose in distress, “I just can’t help but think that— that maybe this–” You motion your hands uselessly. Robin quickly interrupts you before you can finish your thought, “No. Do not go there. Are you insane? This,” she motions lazily over your figure, copying you, “was not your fault.” She shakes her head, sincerity laced within her voice and gaze. “Believe me when I say that— I would tell you if you were a crazy bitch, trust.” She smiles and nudges you again with her shoulder, pulling a laugh from you.

You sigh, rotating your neck to stretch it out, rolling your shoulders, “So, like, what’s up with you?” You ask to lighten the mood, leaning on the bar counter with your elbows. It works because she laughs and nods, looking down at the glasses of whiskey as the bartender wordlessly fills them back up. She traces her finger around the rim of it, still nodding, “I-I’ve been good, you know,” she glances at you and shyly looks away when you begin to smirk, “Just sorta.. Hangin’ out, I guess. Shootin’ the shit,” she shrugs, and you laugh. “Yeah, so when did you guys hook up?” You say over your glass rim innocently, laughing even harder when the girl turns red in the face and sputters over her drink.

“We did not hook up!” She exclaims, wiping the drink from her lips. “Me and Nance,” she shakes her head, “we just… We, like, hung out, you know?” She shrugged. You mockingly raise an eyebrow as she keeps talking, “And like smoked a bit and maybe drank and then like, there was a movie involved, and then she kissed me and—” You interrupt her rambling with a wave of your hand, “Alright, no more details. You totally hooked up,” you laugh, and she blushes harder, laughing and shaking her head, “Definitely did not.” she scoffs.

“You definitely did.” You challenge.

“Did not.” She shoots back.

“Did.”

She groans and shakes you, “If I pay for your tab, will you shut up?” she offers. You pretend to think dramatically for a moment before giving in and nodding, laughing when she slams a one hundred dollar bill on the counter and gets up, picking her leather jacket from behind her chair. “God, you are so annoying,” she complains, shucking her coat over her Daughters of Vampira band t-shirt.

You get up, shrugging your leather jacket on and snickering, “Nah, you love me,” you teasingly say, shoving at her shoulder. She smirks and shakes her head, heading for the exit, “Yeah, you wish,” She pushes the door open and steps outside into the chilly Los Angeles night, immediately shoving her hands into her pockets.

You opt for taking the damaged, smashed pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and pulling a matching lighter out. The lighter has a siren with long, blonde locks and a green, shimmery mermaid tail. You pull out a cigarette and stick it between your lips, igniting the flame and holding it up to the end of the cigarette. You bask in the warmth emanating from the flame, a soft heat kissing your nose. You pull the lighter away and puff, blowing the tobacco back out.

“Man, all I wanted was a peaceful drink, and I got verbally berated instead,” Robin jokes. You laugh, blowing smoke in her face before stopping, looking ahead. You freeze, and not because of the air; the cogs in your brain start moving, fired up with the fuel of alcohol and the lightheaded buzz of nicotine. You still your movements, looking at your friend, “What did you say?” you ask slowly, pulling your gaze from the busy car-filled street.

Her face heats up, eyes widening and hands flying from her pockets to raise in defense, “No, I mean, like— I was kidding. I wasn’t being serious—” you interrupt her by waving your hand hastily that was holding a cigarette, before looking at it and tossing it carelessly to the side. You aimlessly shake your hands at her, “No, what did you just say?” You stare into her eyes, watching as she tries to connect the dots.

She raises her eyebrows in confusion, shrugging before saying slowly, “All I wanted—” You stop her, snapping and pointing, walking away and walking back, obviously pacing. “Yes! Yes— that. It’s perfect.” You stop pacing for a second, standing with your hands on your hips. Robin laughs nervously, fiddling with her zipper jacket, “Uh, what is happening right now? Am I in trouble?” she jokes anxiously, but you ignore her.

You were thinking. Thinking hard.

All I wanted. All you wanted? All I wanted.

You repeat it to her, mumbling the words, gaze still focused on the ground, “All I wanted.” You say, pulling your eyes back up to hers. “Uh.. yeah– All I wanted…was a drink,” she parrots back, nodding dumbly, placating you like a small child doing a math equation.

You smile mischievously, “Robin, you’re a fucking genius!” You all but shriek, earning some glances from the sidewalk. You pay no attention to them, but Robin does, grabbing your shoulder and pushing you into a walk, looking around her to not draw attention to the both of you, but it’s difficult when you’re wildly smiling and humming out a guitar tempo.

“Dude, what are you talking about?” She stresses, “Please tell me what’s happening; I have no idea what is socially acceptable to say right now,” she explains nervously, hand moving to grasp at your elbow, keeping you in motion. “Robin, we have to go to the studio right now,” you beg, looking her in her eyes, your gaze shining in inspiration. “What? No, what? Why?” She steps in front of you and halts your walking, “What is happening?” she pleads, leaning forward and pressing her palms together in a praying motion— silently asking you to please elaborate. You move past her, still walking, still thinking.

Robin jogs to catch up to you, “Tell me what you’re thinking, please,” she begs. You look at her and smirk, “I have an idea for a song,” you conclude. Upon hearing this, Robin smiles like the fucking Cheshire cat.

“Hit me, Tiger.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh when his friend tells him what happened. He pauses for a moment, staring at Scott and waiting for him to say it was just a joke, but he never does, and Eddie nearly dies of laughter, the rest of the band along with him.

“Holy shit,” Eddie gasps between laughter. Gareth snorts, raising his eyebrow in shock as he speaks, “She threw your shit out the window?”

Scott rolls his eyes, flipping the brown-haired boy off, sipping his beer, and leaning back into the red leather couch. Eddie shakes his head as he swivels around in his chair to mess with the studio soundboard, “That’s what you get when you fuck crazy bitches, man,” Eddie laughs, glancing up to watch Jeff mess around with chords in the sound booth. He listens as he speaks, “I mean, sure, she was hot,” He shrugs, reaching over for his box of cigarettes, “Insane tits or whatever, but at what cost?” He snorts.

Scott shrugs, downing the rest of his beer and tossing the bottle into the small trash bin near the soundboard.

“I mean, the sex was definitely good, but she just— I dunno, man,” he shakes his head and dismissively waves his hand, “She’s too much of a firecracker. Angie is way more docile,” he concludes. He snickers as he thinks it over, “Easier to deal with,” he smirks, reaching down to the floor to pick up another beer. Gareth snickers and Eddie grimaces with a shake of his head; he then smirks as he slides a cigarette between his lips, “Nah, the firecrackers are the fun ones, man.” he speaks around the paper as he lights the cancerous stick, sucking and blowing out the smoke. “So, what now?” Gareth asks, taking a swig of his drink as he looks at Scott.

Scott shrugs, opening the glass bottle of beer and sipping it, “Yeah, y’know… no wedding, I’m with Angie, whatever,” he says, and Eddie chuckles, glancing over his shoulder for a moment, “Yeah, I get it,” he nods, taking another drag off his cigarette, lost in his thoughts. You’re a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good… A lightbulb goes off in his head.

“Wait, guys,” he swivels around in his chair to face Gareth and Scott. The two boys look up at him as Eddie speaks, “We’ve all had crazy girlfriends, right?” His gaze bounces between the boys as he puffs on the cigarette before standing up and pushing the bud of it into Gareth’s bottle, much to his dismay. He ignores Gareth’s complaints, ignoring the boys laughing at him, pacing the room, mind swirling to the sound of Jeff’s guitar.

Through the fog of chords and lyrics, Eddie continues speaking, “All of our ex-girlfriends— and ex-fiances,” he blindly points to Scott as he paces, ignoring when Scott scoffs, “are crazy bitches,” he points out, looking back at the group. “I mean, I can’t remember the last time I had a normal fucking girlfriend,” he snickers. The boys look at Eddie as if they’re concerned, confusion written across their faces that Eddie could care less to ease, “This is fucking inspiration, boys! Let’s write this shit down,” He leans on the soundboard, “Let’s expose this chick,” He snickers.

He walks into the sound booth and grabs his guitar from the stand, pulling the strap over his neck as he nods toward Jeff, “Keep playing that,” he orders. Despite his masked confusion, Jeff continues to play the riff he’d been tweaking. Eddie steps up to the mic in the middle of the sound booth, reaching for the headphones to slip them over his head, leaving one ear uncovered. He gestures to Gareth through the glass, motioning for him to tag along.

Gareth puts his beer down and walks in, glancing at Eddie in confusion, “You gonna tell us what we’re playing or?” He sits behind his drums as Eddie tweaks the strings on his guitar. “Just follow along, man.” Eddie distractedly mumbles. Gareth and Jeff glance at one another— Eddie often has moments like this, and they have yet to get used to it. Gareth shrugs, picking up his deeply mangled drumsticks and tapping a beat to Jeff’s strings.

Eddie mumbles to himself, fingers ghosting chords over the frets as he nods his head to the beat. He picks up with Gareth and Jeff’s sound, shredding along to create a fuller sound, the images of the music he’d composed in his mind coming to life just below his fingertips. Scott watches from outside the sound booth, standing up to lean over the soundboard. He watches, intrigued, as they play together, wordlessly tweaking until they all compliment each other. Scott reaches over with a smirk and hits the record button just in time for Eddie to chime in on the mic, finally spitting out the lyrics they’d all be waiting to hear.

And it’s fucking good.

“Alllriiight!”

It’s raunchy, unhinged, and all things dirty. On top of that, it’s a massive fuck you to Scott’s ex, and Scott can’t keep the grin off his face as he adds the bass to the track, snickering at the words Eddie sings. They work on the song all day, throwing in new verses and tweaks until they feel satisfied for the time being. They sit outside the sound booth and nurse a round of beers as they play the song, listening to what they have so far, grinning and nodding along to the beat, laughing at the absurdity of the lyrics.

“Hey, you’re a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good, I’m on top of it.”

“It’s good… as much as I hate to say it, it’s good.” Scott laughs, rolling his eyes when the boys cheer. Sitting on the swivel chair in front of the soundboard, Eddie reaches out and nudges Scott's foot with his own, “You might get a few slashed tires when she hears this, you know.” He snickers over the rim of his beer bottle.

Scott laughs and shrugs, “Can’t be any worse than what she’s already done.” He jokes. The boys all laugh, watching Jeff as he raises his beer in the gesture of a toast, “To crazy bitches.” The boys all raise their beers in unity, parroting back, “To crazy bitches!” They clink their drinks and laugh, taking sips.

“You’re crazy, but I like the way you fuck me.”

“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there,

I’ll beg you nice from my knees.

And when the world treats you way too fairly,

Well, it’s a shame, I’m a dream,”

Your voice filters through the speakers, thick studio headphones skewed on your head as you fiddle with the soundboard knobs and buttons. You sigh and push the headphones to rest around your neck, rubbing your hands tiredly over your face. You take a glance at the clock— 4:34 AM. Goddamn. You had truly been here all night. After your night out with Robin, drinking your feelings away, and your quick epiphany moment, you guys caught a taxi straight here and got to business. That was at 10:46 PM.

Poor Robin, you put the girl through the wringer. Making her drum out new beats, forcing her to pluck out a bass riff to the best of her abilities. The rest of your band was, without a doubt, asleep, and you didn’t want to bother them with your antics. And, of course, you all were close, but it was just different with you and Robin. You guys could be together for hours and never tire of one another. You just clicked.

Maybe it was also the fact that you didn’t want to face whatever awkward encounter was bound to happen between Robin and Nancy, opting to wait until the morning to see them face one another. Robin was fully asleep underneath the sound booth, using both of your jackets as a pillow. Her fingers are wrapped around the beer she’d been drinking; hand cuddled up to her face. You pull out your cigarettes from your pocket, pulling one stick out and sliding it between your lips. You light it up and puff on the cigarette, glancing at Robin beneath the table before reaching down and carefully snagging her beer. You take a quick swig, quietly listening to the song.

“All I wanted was you,

All I wanted was you.”

The guitar that comes in right after is powerful. It’s beautiful; it showcases your anger, your betrayal, your heart that still aches. This was supposed to be a love song for Scott, but after tweaking a few lyrics, it quickly became a song laced with hatred and resentment— a piece of heartbreak and anguish you’re still clearly sorting through. But that’s all that love is, right? Just two people fighting and slashing at each other until one inevitably gives in and waves a white flag?

You down the rest of your stolen beer, still taking drags of the cigarette and blowing it back out. It wasn’t unusual for you to be the only one here at ungodly hours of the night, but it was one of the first times you were here with your friend and bandmate. Knowing she was here for you after such a chaotic, hectic day, supporting you even at unreasonable hours, was nice.

You replay the lyrics repeatedly, playing with the weak bass Robin was barely able to play. You should go home; you know you should, given how late it is and the dryness that begins to seep through your eyes, but you hate the feeling that runs through your bones when you think about what used to be your and Scott’s home. You don’t want to go home. Home is where everything ended. Home is no longer home— not after what happened. Home is where you’ll go to relieve the day over and over again until you get tired enough to pass out.

And then it hits you; lyrics, more heartache hits you. The song was initially titled The Only Exception, but the words changed after playing around for several hours. You stuff the cigarette bud in the beer bottle, letting it fizzle out as you get up from your swivel chair to try and find a notebook— a notepad, napkins, or something, but you only find a pen. Frustrated with your lack of writing materials, you look at your surroundings hungrily before your eyes land on Robin’s bare arm.

You pace back to the soundboard and reach underneath to yank on Robin’s arm, waking her up for a split second. You ignore Robin’s grumbly and slurred “What the fuck?” and proceed with your task as she inevitably falls back asleep. You yank the pen cap off with your teeth and begin jotting down lyrics on Robin’s pale, freckled, tattooed arm.

“I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times,

And fall asleep on the couch.

Wake up early to black-and-white reruns,

That escape from my mouth.”

Scott and your favorite thing to do was watch old 1950s classic films. You guys watched them so much, watched so many of them, over and over again, that you could quote them to one another. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you write these lyrics down, some falling on Robin’s arm and smudging the ink. You curse and press your palm to the running ink to dry whatever can be salvaged from your sloppy work. You drop her arm to the ground and hear her briefly groan as you pace back into the sound booth, picking up your black guitar from the stand and pulling the strap over your upper body.

You move your headphones around your neck to sit over your ears, waiting for your next move. You start strumming out a guitar riff, basking in the glory of the echoing sounds and its full, tough ring. You push your lips to the microphone and begin mumbling, playing with more lyrics in your head before you sing.

“I could follow you to the beginning,

Just to relive the start.

And maybe then, we’d remember to slow down.

At all of our favorite parts.”

The tears are freefalling now; the dark eyeliner you’d spent the past hours smudging leaves roads of sorrow against your skin. You and Scott were together for seven magical months. Yeah, it was quick— pathetic in a different light, but you’d been mindlessly in love. And fuck, would it have been a mistake if you did end up marrying him. He was a production assistant and a bassist with no new lines of work coming, opting to freeload off his friend’s band, Corroded Coffin, playing with them at shows whenever they needed him.

And it’s working for him so far— until it doesn’t. As much as you hate to admit, Scott is talented. He’s good with his instrument and has a good ear for sound, but despite his talent, he has no real drive— no actual want to succeed and be at the top of the music pyramid with you. As you continue to play with the guitar, you stop for a second to wipe your eyes, thoroughly smudging your makeup now and probably making you look insane.

Scott had good moments, though. When it was good, it was good— spontaneous nights out, making out in alleyways like lovesick teenagers, and every second feeling like a movie until the credits rolled— but when it was bad, it was really fucking bad. Fights, stupid arguments, bickering, breaking expensive items, and threatening to leave each other until he makes it up to you with mediocre sex and breakfast in bed the next day. You loved him, you did, and you believe he loved you too, but you just can’t pinpoint where it all went wrong.

You stop strumming the guitar and huff waterily, setting the guitar back on the stand and ripping your headphones off your head before tossing them to the ground. You sit on a metal, foldable chair beside you and lean forward to push your head into your hands.

You really blew the fuck up on him. Did you overreact? Did you honestly act like a crazy bitch? Fuck, maybe you should apologize.

You can hear Robin in the back of your head, nagging and begging you to stop thinking self-destructive thoughts like this, telling you you’re insane for even thinking of apologizing, but you just can’t help it. You venture down the deep, dark, but welcoming rabbit hole of psycho-analyzing every romantic relationship you’ve ever had. None of your relationships have lasted— the ones in high school, obviously, but you’ve been out of that shit hole for years now, yet you’re still playing the never-ending game of kiss and tell.

Life in Hawkins was a weird, dull one. All the boys you brought home never shared the same interests as you and certainly did not like that you had a mind of your own. They didn’t like the clothes you wore, or the makeup you did, or the music you listened to. They thought you and the rest of the band were stupid and wasting your lives trying to be something big with the weird sound you carried. Nothing about you or the people you hung out with fit the cookie-cutter shape of Hawkins, and you learned that the hard way.

You were more of a dirty secret for boys in your school. Nobody wanted to express their love or attraction to you openly, but they sure as hell did so behind closed doors. Your first boyfriend, Brady, was a star on the wrestling team; he didn’t mind showing you off much because nobody had the guts to talk shit about him— too scared to get sucker punched. Brady lasted a few months before you eventually cut ties with each other.

There were a few others after Brady, all meeting the same dead end you’re so familiar with. Although there was one guy— Eddie Munson— people believed you would be perfect for each other. You liked the same music, dressed relatively the same, and had shitty high school bands nobody wanted to listen to. Logistically, it was a perfect match; the only problem was Eddie Munson is an asshole.

Scum of the earth, piece of shit, grade-A asshole.

Scott was friends with him, and on occasion, you would sometimes cross paths at parties or hangouts with mutual friends; and every single run-in you’ve had with the man left you with a splitting migraine and an itching impulse to smash his head through a window. He’s awful; he doesn’t respect you or any woman for that matter, he acts like he’s a living god, and he and his shitty band won (stole) that fucking music contest in Hawkins back in ‘87, and you’ll never forget it. That’s how you met him, and your guys’ race to the top hasn’t let up since.

And now that you think of it, it’s not surprising that Eddie and Scott get along so well— they’re both sexist assholes.

You’re milling in your thoughts for what seems like hours, tears dried and itching against your skin. You’re not sure how long you sit in the sound booth, but before you know it, Robin’s hoarse voice is cracking through the speakers of the sound booth, “As much as I think you’re a musical genius and love the way you work in mysterious ways, it’s extremely late, and we both need to catch some sleep before tomorrow.”

Your face twists in confusion, “Tomorrow? What’s special about tomorrow?” You ask, your voice cracking. Robin shifts on her feet, brows furrowing at your confusion, “We’re meeting with the record label. Remember we’re playing them our new album?”

Fuck. You completely forgot about that, and all of those songs, except for maybe three, are based around your stupid ex-fiance that just dumped you for your best friend. You sigh, dropping your head in your hands and running your palms over your face. You let out a long groan into your hands, not even hearing Robin opening the door to the sound booth and walking up to you. Her chilled fingers wrap around your wrists to pull your hands away from your face. Her blue eyes are tired and full of love and warmth as she squats before you to gaze at you, “Talk to me.”

Tears brim your eyes at her soft voice, and you wince— you really wish you could stop fucking crying. You rub at your teary eyes and shake your head, “It’s just—” you sigh and blearily blink down at Robin, “they’re all about him, Rob.” You frown.

Robin patiently waits for you to find the words, comfortingly squeezing your tear-dampened fingers. “Every song on the album is about him and I… I really don’t wanna spend an entire tour singing about him.” You softly speak, avoiding her gaze.

The brown-haired girl shuffles closer to you, ducking into your gaze and shrugging, “That’s okay,” she shakes her head, “We can scrap it. I mean, the label might be a little pissed, but just… play them what we did tonight, and I guarantee you they’ll extend our time.”

You furrow your brows and shake your head, “What? No. Robin, the song’s not finished—” “We don’t get another chance with this, Tiger. We either play them what we did tonight or give them the album.”

And you know Robin is right; she does not want to give you an ultimatum, but it’s the inevitable truth. You can either play the song and hope it’s the best thing the label has ever heard, or you suck it up and play them the album full of bittersweet words that leave a sticky residue clogging your throat.

You look at Robin, her patient and tired gaze locked on your face. You chew on the inside of your cheek, thinking it over for a moment— and it could work. The new song you’d just recorded is insane— nothing you’ve ever done before and, without a doubt, has a groundbreaking sound. It could work.

Max and Nancy are going to kill you tomorrow.

You nod your head, “Okay,” you breathe. Robin’s lips slowly stretch into a smile, “I’m gonna play it for them.” You nod. Robin shoots up to her feet with a cheer.

“Perfect! Now wipe those tears, and let's get the fuck out of here.”

You and Robin look like hell. You’re sporting heavy undereye bags with dark circles, while Robin opted to cover her evident lack of sleep with a pair of dark shades. Nancy and Max look concerned when they see you both sitting in the lobby of your label’s building. Nancy, of course, chastised you for your lateness while Max just snickered in the corner. Max suddenly makes a face as she speaks, “Why do you guys look like you’ve been hit by a bus?”

Robin tiredly groans, shifting in her seat with a yawn, “Stayed at the studio late.” She mumbles. Nancy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Why? I thought we had everything ready for today.” She points out, obviously concerned. Nothing would ever get done if you didn’t have Nancy in the band. Now that you look at her, she has a manila folder in her hands, most likely stuffed with questions, comments, concerns, budgets, and more. She was more like Erica’s assistant than your bass player. But fuck, could her skilled fingers pluck out a riff.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, glancing over at Robin, who seems to be now passed out behind her glasses, offering you no help. You scoff. Of course. You mentally punch Robin in the face. You fidget with the rings on your fingers as you begin to explain. “So, basically,” you start, “I came home yesterday and found Scott and Angie fucking in my bed, so I threw their shit out the window and then called Robin,” you barely pay attention to Nancy and Max’s widening eyes as you spew out the events of yesterday. You knew they already knew, probably from Erica or the fucking tabloids. Hell, the whole fucking world knew, but they acted like this was their first time hearing about it.

You ramble on about the events, telling them about you finding inspiration and dragging Robin to the studio, drunk, only to decide to scrap the album you’d all been working on for the past few months.

That last bit of information didn’t go so well, however.

“You what?”

You wince at Max’s sneering tone, glancing at Nancy to try and get a read on her expressionless face. “Please tell me you’re joking,” Max says, voice teetering on the precipice of panic. You wish Robin would wake the fuck up. “I… I know I’m really taking a leap of faith here, but I need you guys to trust me on this,” you plead, gaze hopefully bouncing between the two women, “Please.”

Max folds her arms across her chest, tongue rolling against the inside of her cheek before she shakes her head, “I swear if this fucks us over, you’ll never hear the end of it from me.” She breaks, and you’re just thankful she agrees to follow your and Robin’s plan. She turns around and walks over to plop into the seat on the other side of the lobby, glancing at you before speaking, “Sorry about Scott, by the way…” she mumbles. “Maybe it’s a good thing; I never liked all those love songs anyways…” She smiles apologetically, and you huff out a chuckle.

Nancy nudges her foot against your leather boot, “You were out of his league anyway. He was dumber than a rock.�� She adds to Max’s apology. You snicker and thank them for their condolences. Nancy sits on the chair next to Max and sighs heavily, “Did you tell Erica about the change?” she asks, already flipping through her folder. You pretended you didn’t hear the question, which was not a good idea.

The two girls begin to panic at your eerie silence. Nancy’s face falls, and Robin fucking snores, “You did tell Erica, right?” She presses. Your silence says enough.

Max groans, leaning forward to sink her head into the palm of her hands, “We’re so fucked.”

And when the time comes, you’re not exactly sure what the label is thinking. All the board members wear the same unwavering expression as they listen to All I Wanted. You glance at Nancy and Max, who are both visibly shaken with nerves; Max’s leg bouncing at an ungodly rate beneath the table, and Nancy’s poor fingers picked to shreds. Robin, who’s now awake, is busying herself with doodling random sketches on the napkin in front of her, and you’re— well, you’re hardly breathing.

Erica looks thoroughly pissed; you don’t doubt she’d thought about strangling you the second you announced you were scraping the album. You could tell she was itching to make some phone calls as her stone-hard gaze stayed on you throughout the whole listening session. You pretended you didn’t notice her.

When the demo ends, a thick silence settles over the room, and you lean forward, pressing pause on the track to prevent the CD from repeating. You awkwardly scratch the side of your neck, “I-It’s not done; I’m still working on it, but um—” You glance at the table of faces and gulp. You haven’t been this nervous in longer than you can remember. “I know it can be something. Something big.”

James, the CEO of the record label, clears his throat and leans forward, pressing his elbows onto the thick wooden table. A burning cigarette hangs between his fingers as he points to the middle of the table where the CD player sits, “This is about Scott, yes?”

All eyes are on you, and you have no choice but to nod yes. James takes a drag of his cigarette, eyebrows furrowing as he silently thinks. You glance at your friends, a wave of nerves washing through your body at the anticipation. “What happened yesterday can never happen again. You almost ruined your image. Almost.” He finally speaks, his stern gaze locked in on you. You almost want to shrink in your seat, feeling like a child being scolded in the principal's office as he continues to speak. “You're a good talent, but if you don't know how to act like a grown woman, you won’t have a place here.”

You scoff and open your mouth, a smart response on the tip of your tongue, until Robin harshly kicks the heel of her leather boot into your ankle. You hiss in pain, sucking on your teeth to poorly conceal it. You relent and nod your head, “I understand.”

James nods and flicks the ashes of his cigarette into the ashtray beside him, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh, “Now,” his lips split into a smug grin, a grin that tells you that you won, “Get this track finished by the end of the week. I want it on air by Monday morning.”

Monday morning, Eddie is hauling ass down I-405, without a doubt breaking many traffic laws he could care less about, given he’s late to his studio session with the band. When is he not late? He’s got a cigarette hanging from his lips and the smell of last night's alcohol on his clothes. As he meticulously swerves and weaves in and out of LA traffic, he jams his finger to turn his radio on, flipping through static, noise, ads, shitty pop music, and landing on a seemingly decent Rock station.

He takes his cigarette out of his mouth and puffs the rest before tossing it out of the open window. His hair tousles from the wind, and he bats the curly strands away whenever they fly into his view. His ringed fingers grip the steering wheel, swerving out of the way of a truck before honking and throwing up a middle finger. What he misses during that exchange is the introduction of the song.

“Next up is a new hit single named All I Wanted by Daughters of Vampira! Daughters of Vampira will be going on tour soon; stay tuned for details!”

Then, the music starts when he finally starts to slow down after narrowly missing the truck.

“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there,

I’ll beg you nice from my knees.

And when the world treats you way too fairly,

Well, it’s a shame, I’m a dream.”

Your voice filters through his car stereo, unbeknownst to Eddie, and he glances down at his music console. He slowly turns the volume dial up, intrigued by the sound and wanting to know where it’s leading. When the ferocious guitar shred comes in, his face twists in approval, turning the volume even louder as he bobs his head to the tune. Whoever’s band this was, is fucking good. It’s not every day you hear a good Rock song sung by a woman, he thinks.

“All I wanted was you, oh,

All I wanted was you, oh!”

Eddie’s not sure why it takes him so long to realize the voice playing through his speakers is none other than the lead singer of that stupid fucking feminazi band Daughters of Vampira. He nearly chokes when he realizes it’s your voice, turning the volume up to max and listening to the words.

It’s… sad. The lyrics are like the gut-wrenching heartbreak you see in movies, aching and drenched with the grief of a love that was supposed to be great. And your voice is so fucking raw, so angry, and filled with pain that it brings Eddie to a stand-still, the skin on his arms raising in tiny bumps at the sheer emotion. Eddie almost forgets he’s in his car until he hears the car behind him honking, the man behind the wheel yelling at him to go now that the traffic light has turned green. He doesn’t move an inch, afraid he’ll miss a beat of this slice of heartache.

The song ends, and Eddie turns off his radio, choosing to spend the rest of his ride in silence as the gnawing feeling of guilt settles in his gut. By the sound of it, Scott really did a fucking number on you— tore your heart out, chewed it up, spit it out, and stepped on it like a spider on a sidewalk— and Eddie knows what that feels like; he’s had his heart broken before so he knows what it feels like to be so angry at the love you had for a person. It’s a shitty feeling.

So, Eddie’s not sure why he decides to be an asshole and tell the boys about your new song, but he does. The second he enters the studio, he tells Gareth to turn on the radio.

“...Why?” Gareth questions with a tone of suspicion. Eddie brushes his question off and walks to lean over the desk, turning the radio on and beginning to switch through the stations. “Uh, Eddie… we’ve got some work to do, man, we don’t have time for—” “Shh, just give me a second,” Eddie snaps.

“It’s gotta be playing somewhere.” Eddie mumbles, eyebrows furrowed, ringed finger going overtime on the dial, abruptly stopping when he finally hears it. “This is it! This is it; just listen.” Eddie turns the volume up and stands up to his full height, hands on his hips, and chews on his lip as they silently listen to the song.

Jeff is the first to speak through the sound of drums and intense chords, “Why are we listening to this?” Eddie waves him off, telling him just to wait— just wait until the verse.

“I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times,

And fall asleep on the couch.

Wake up early to black-and-white reruns,

That escape from my mouth.”

Scott’s eyes widen, striding over to Eddie’s side and gazing at the boombox in shock, “No fuckin’ way.” He breathes. Eddie looks at Scott as he reaches over to increase the volume. Gareth twirls his drumstick between his knuckles and deeply sighs as he leans back in his chair and kicks his feet up onto the soundboard, “Dude, no offense, but why are we listening to this shit?” He asks. Scott turns to the boys and points back to the radio, “That’s my fucking bitch ex singing about me.”

Jeff and Gareth’s eyes widen, both boys leaning forward in their seats to listen to the lyrics. Scott curses and reaches over to shut the radio off, letting a thick silence fall over the room. Jeff is the first to break and nervously laugh, and Eddie grins, Gareth falling into a fit of laughter behind Jeff’s. “Why the fuck are you guys laughing?” Scott sneers.

Eddie chuckles, reaching out to rest his hands on Scott’s shoulders and turn him to face each other, “You don’t get it, man,” Eddie begins. Scott’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, and Eddie smiles mischievously, “This is the perfect time to drop Crazy Bitch.”

You nearly blow a gasket when you first hear Corroded Coffin’s new song. Nancy did quite a good job of bringing you down to somewhat of a levelheaded state and getting you to understand that killing Scott or slashing his tires wouldn’t be the wisest of decisions to make. You still aren’t convinced.

You try your best to ignore the song, switching the radio to a different station whenever it plays, but it seems like that fucking track follows you wherever you go. A week after the song's release, you’re walking down the street with Robin, browsing the stores that catch your eye and chatting about whatever comes to mind.

You hardly notice the crowd gathered outside the store you are in until Robin points it out, nudging your side and nodding towards the window, “Looks like we’ve got company today.” she mumbles. You curse, shelving the shirt you’d been looking at as you grumble to Robin, “Seriously, how the fuck did they find us?”

You suppose the rest of your day out won’t last much longer, so you and Robin decide to make your way home, stepping out into the crowd and shoving through a sea of flashing bulbs.

Over time, you’ve mustered up the strength to ignore the questions paparazzi throw at you; questions about who you’re dating, your sexuality, your political beliefs— questions of generally no substance or anything to do with your music. You’ve become numb to the reality of your life being plastered on tabloids and riddled with lies; it doesn’t really hurt you anymore.

However, you’re still a human being, and you have moments where you crack, and today seems to be one of those moments when a man yells out, “You were seen dumping your ex-fiance Scott's items into the street! So is the song true? Did you and Eddie Munson have an affair? Is that why you and Scott broke up?”

Robin tenses, glancing at you and silently pleading for you to just keep walking. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

You glare but smile at the man, flashing your white, shark-like teeth, “If you wanna know so bad, why don’t you ask Scott and Angie yourself?” You sneer.

A few of the men snicker, one whistling and commenting about you being feisty, but you ignore it and continue as you and Robin finally reach your car, “And for the record, I wouldn’t touch that asshole with a ten-inch pole. His dick is small.” You grin sarcastically, opening your car door and getting in without another word. You hear the crowd erupt in more questions outside your car, some scribbling stuff down on their notepads and some laughing.

You groan in annoyance, buckling yourself in and starting the car as Robin settles in the passenger seat. You don’t miss the chance to flip the mob of men off when you drive off, leaving them behind with screeching tires. It’s silent until Robin chuckles, and you glance at her, “What’s so funny?”

Robin shrugs and shakes her head, “Nothing,” she says, “Just that Erica’s gonna murder you.” You roll your eyes and slide a pair of shades on. “When is she not wanting to murder me?”

The media erupted after your comment about womanizer and rockstar Eddie Munson. Many fans came to your aid, voicing the truth of the breakup and defending you and your band. In contrast, many other fans— Corroded Coffin’s cult of assholes— came to Eddie’s defense, stating that he was only doing charity work to get your name in the papers. That you were fucking your way to the top of the music industry and much, much more deeply misogynistic statements.

You didn’t care for any of it. You, your friends, your family, and your band knew what actually happened. The best part is that Scott knew the truth, and he was a shit fucking liar. He couldn’t cover up what happened if his life depended on it. It made you think of how he could lie about the affair for as long as he did. You don’t dwell on that thought for too long, growing tired of digging deeper into the pit of despair Scott had so happily tossed you into.

At the end of the day, your image is in shambles, and if your image is fucked, then so is the bands. Daughters of Vampira wasn’t booking anything; shows, meet-and-greets, autograph signings— nothing. Even though All I Wanted was an enormous hit and ended up in the charts, people couldn’t get over the fact that you, the lead singer, tend to be explosive. You would’ve felt bad about this if Eddie’s image hadn’t suffered the same fate.

Eddie and his band immediately stopped booking shows after their song Crazy Bitch. Of course, it was a big success, but only because the drama fueled it. Young women stopped throwing themselves at the band and instead opted for screaming, “Woman haters!” and “Sexist pigs!” at them whenever they were out. It had been fucking rough, and it only got worse after Eddie commented to the paparazzi while he was out on a coffee run in the streets of Los Angeles.

“How the fuck do they always find me?” Eddie grumbles to himself, putting on a fake smile for the group.

Eddie was rocking a pair of shades, thinking of ways to quickly escape the mob, when a young boy approached him from the crowd. He had a Corroded Coffin shirt on with a photograph of Eddie clenched to his chest as he kindly asked for an autograph.

“Sure, kid,” Eddie crouches down to the boy’s height and gently takes the photograph and Sharpie, "who am I signing it for?” He smiles softly at the boy, “For Thomas, sir!” The boy politely says, his eyes shining in excitement. “Thomas, sick name, man.” Eddie compliments, yanking the cap off with his teeth. He signs his name with a Let’s fuckin’ ROCK! in the corner, putting the lid back and handing the photo back to the boy.

He smiles when the boy squeals in excitement and offers him a fist bump before standing up to his full height. “Thank you, Mr. Munson!” Eddie snickers and nods, “‘Course, but hey, don’t call me Munson; call me Ed,” He smirks, and the kid laughs. “Mr. Muns– Ed, I have a question for you,” the kid shyly asks.

Eddie’s heart implodes at the cuteness of this little shithead and chuckles as he responds, “Shoot, kid, I’m all ears,” Eddie ignores the flashes from the cameras, taking photos of this pure and innocent moment. He ignores the coos from the women, from the kid’s parents, all of it, just zoned in on this small child meeting his hero. Him.

“Ed, is it true that you hate girls?”

And just like that, the moment is over.

Eddie turns red in the face and forces a harsh but nervous laugh. The crowd closes in upon hearing the exchange and begins asking a multitude of questions. The parents snag their son away and start expressing profuse apologies that Eddie waves off. “Nah, nah, the kid’s fine. But uh, to answer your question, no, that isn’t true, Tommy boy,” he says, looking at the child standing beside his mother’s legs. He takes out a pack of smokes and opens it, sliding a cigarette between his lips as he adds, “I am a really big fan of girls,” he flashes a dazzling smile around the stick and does finger guns at the small kid before he turns and begins to walk away.

He’s forgotten all about his coffee, and now all he wants is to get the fuck outta there.

He lights the cigarette up and ignores the crowd of paparazzi following him, cameras still in motion. He rolls his eyes, body buzzing in annoyance from the kid's question and the crowd. He continues walking the street as more questions and fans approach him. As Eddie signs a woman’s photograph, a cigarette hanging from his lips, an interviewer comments with a camera already zoned in and recording Eddie’s face. No doubt this will be on MTV tonight. No doubt he won’t hear the end of it from Dustin and Steve.

“Eddie, did you hear what the frontwoman of Daughters of Vampira has said about you? Can we get a response?” He shoves the mic into Eddie’s face.

Eddie’s lips break into a grin, but he doesn’t look up from the autograph he’s signing. “Yeah… yeah, I heard, and y’know what? She can come find out herself if it’s small or not,” He looks up and smirks right at the camera, “Have a nice day.” He smiles tightly at the interviewer and hastily flags down a taxi, hopping in and yelling at the driver to step on it. He watches as the crowd grows smaller and smaller with distance, his heart thundering in his chest. He takes deep breaths to slow his pulse down, to stop thinking of you.

It never seems to slow as his mind can’t move on from you or that damn song.

Both the managers of Corroded Coffin and Daughters of Vampira are pushed to the limit with you and Eddie. Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington are co-managers of Corroded Coffin, mainly because Steve has the money and Dustin has the brains to man the operation. All Steve really does is cut the checks and warn the team when to cut back on the extracurriculars.

Erica, Steve, and Dustin are all from Hawkins and are quite familiar with each other due to living in a small town where everyone knows everybody. They, along with all members of Corroded Coffin and Daughters of Vampira, all sort of grew up with one another in the 80s and have always been on this whimsical journey together. As the years went by, you all drifted, more so because of the competition, but aside from the band, the managers stayed relatively civil with one another. Erica, Steve, and Dustin stayed in touch because sometimes they couldn’t handle the two bands, which is why Erica summoned the two boys to a bar in downtown LA.

Erica Sinclair is seemingly always tested by you and has no idea where to go or what her next move should be. She has times when she feels like a single mother dealing with an angsty teen, and when those moments teeter on disastrous, she makes calls— the call.

“I mean, I have just had it up to here,” Erica moves her hand up in the air to emphasize her annoyance, “with these girls, I mean, my god!” She shakes her head as she sips her red wine, the two boys nodding from across from her. “Trust me,” Steve scoffs, “we get it.”

Dustin nods, taking a sip of his Shirley Temple and smacking his lips before adding, “We’re in the same boat too— with Eddie,” Dustin starts, drinking his Shirley Temple out of a bendy straw.

“Yeah, he’s always been a pain in the ass, ever since high school,” Steve continues, sharing a look with Dustin, who tiredly nods, “But it has never been this bad. Normally we can get a hold on him running his mouth, but it’s just been…” Steve falters and trails off, struggling to grasp the words to explain Eddie’s childlike behavior. Erica nods, “I know what you mean,” She makes a face and holds her wine glass out to cheer with them. Dustin clinks his Shirley Temple, and Steve clinks his beer, them all taking a sip.

“Both band’s images are terrible. It won’t be long till we’re losing more money,” Steve grumbles, taking another swig of his beer. “I think we should just lock them all in a room together till they get along,” Erica jokes, earning a chortle from Steve and a cackle from Dustin. They all sigh in unison, a comfortable silence falling over them.

Suddenly, Dustin sits up straight, aggressively snapping his fingers before pointing to Erica.

Steve jumps and makes a face at Dustin, grumbling about how annoying Dustin’s theatrics are. Erica rolls her eyes, already used to the boy’s antics. “Well? Are you gonna tell us about your nerdy little lightbulb moment or keep making a scene?” She sneers over her wine glass rim, taking a sip. Dustin looks back from Steve’s annoyed face to Erica’s tired one, basking in the dramatics.

“Why don’t we do just that?” He finally says.

Steve and Erica share a look. Typically, Dustin has these moments, and Steve and Erica have to entertain them, but Erica thinks Henderson might be onto something. Steve scoffs and leans back in his chair, “I doubt they’d last a week locked in a house before one kills the other.” Steve mumbles, clearly missing Dustin’s case in point.

Erica, however, knows just where Dustin’s mind has gone— to the motherland of brilliant-fucking-idea. Erica puts her glass down and leans her elbows on the table, resting her chin on the backs of her folded hands. “When you say just that, you mean…?” She looks at the boy quizzically, praying he means what she thinks he means. Steve puts his hand on the back of Dustin’s chair and leans forward, “I’m not really picking up on this guys,” He uses his other hand to lazily gesture. Dustin ignores Steve and nods slowly, “Oh hell yeah, I mean that.” He says, smirking mischievously. Erica and Dustin share a grin, a playful gleam in their eyes. Steve groans on the side in annoyance.

“Let’s book a fuckin’ tour bus, boys,” Erica concludes, and Dustin erupts in cheers, the two of them clinking their drinks. Steve finally understands, and his eyes widen, “Oh! Holy shit, that’s fucking genius.”

Erica laughs and finishes off the last of her wine. “Tiger is gonna kill me.” She smirks and shakes her head, sighing. Dustin and Steve share a look and chuckle a little bit, “Her reaction won’t be as bad as Munson’s. He’s gonna fuckin’ lose it.” Dustin says, slurping on his straw.

A few weeks pass before Erica, Steve, and Dustin manage to rally both bands in a conference room. The tension in the room is almost unbearable. For the most part, the band members seem more interested in knowing why they’ve been summoned together— the real tension is at the end of the table, where you and Eddie sit across from each other. Eddie wears a snickering grin to go along with his darkened shades, and you— well, if looks could kill, everybody in this room would be six feet under and crossing into the afterlife.

You’re pissed. Annoyed that you’re being forced to breathe the same air as that fuckface Eddie Munson, and Eddie could not be more pleased with himself. Eddie gazes at each of the girls across from him; Max, who’s glaring at your managers and bouncing her knee in evident impatience, Nancy, who couldn’t look more uninterested if she tried; and Robin, who seems more intrigued with the wood paneling of the wall to look at anything else. He makes the mistake of looking at you, earning him a nicely silver-wrapped middle finger which he winks at.

“If you two are done acting like children down there, we’d like to get this meeting started,” Erica announces from her seat at the head of the table. All eyes turn to her, and she sarcastically smiles, opening her mouth to begin speaking until you cut her off, “Whatever fucking bullshit you three have planned, I won’t be a part of it. Not with this asshole.” You gesture to the curly-haired boy across from you.

Gareth and Jeff snicker, and you glare at them, ignoring Robin’s elbow jabbing into your side. “It’s funny that you think you have a choice, Tiger,” Erica says, tilting her head with a grin. You begin to bounce your leg impatiently, jaw clenching as the ticking time bomb in your mind begins to speed up.

Dustin clears his throat and stands up, gathering everyone's attention as he clasps his hands. “Let’s cut straight to the chase,” he begins, “Your music careers are fucked.”

Jeff breathily laughs to the side, and Erica glares at him, quickly diminishing his obvious amusement. “Somehow, the seven of you have managed to obliterate your band's image in less than a month,” Dustin points out, picking up a stack of magazines before him and walking calmly about the room. He tosses a magazine out into the middle of the table, “Misogynists,” another magazine, “Anti-feminist,” another magazine, “Chauvinists,” another magazine— the final one, “Woman-haters.”

You all look at the magazines silently until you mumble, “Sounds about right,” causing Eddie to scoff and roll his eyes beneath his shades. “What? You’re mad the media is finally realizing how full of shit you all are?” You prod with a tilt of your head. “At least nobody’s saying I should be sent to a fucking ward.”

Your eyes narrow, and you begin to form a response, but Erica rises from her seat loudly, startling the room as her loud voice booms through the space, “The media is tearing both of you to shreds,” she leans forward to press her palms against the cool wooden table, heated gaze darting between you and Eddie.

“Both of your bands aren’t booking gigs, and you're losing money faster than you earn it,” she points out, watching as you all cower from the truth. She waves a manicured finger between both sides of the table, “This stupid little fucking back and forth you’ve created either ends here or on the road.”

Robin’s face twists in confusion, a raspy voice speaking up for the first time, “On the road?”

Steve turns to her and grins, “Yes. On the road. Together.”

Gareth leans forward in his chair, confused as he speaks, “What, like a retreat type deal?” He questions. Dustin slaps a paper down in front of him, “No. Tour. Nine months, ninety-two shows.”

Gareth doesn’t get much time to take in the information on the paper before Eddie snatches it out of his hands, shades pushed up into his hair as he leans in to gape at it. A list of tour dates, an ongoing and never-ending fucking list.

“You’re not serious.” He says. Steve chuckles at the end of the table, nodding his head, “As serious as a heart attack.”

You’re next to snatch the paper away for a gander, ignoring the rest of the room as everyone erupts in a fit of protest. You stand with your back to the table as you gaze through each date, your neck heating up with anger as your fingers crease the paper. You turn around, face twisted in rage, wrinkling the paper in your shaking fist as you storm up to where Erica stands, waiting for you to say your piece with an unwavering impression.

You hold the crinkled paper up as you stand before her, “You’ve lost your fucking mind if you think I’m doing shows with these pieces of shits.” You sneer, tossing the paper onto the table. Erica raises an eyebrow, looking at you as if you’ve gone off the deep end. The room enters a thick silence at your outburst, all eyes on the standoff between you and Erica. “Call the tour off, or I’m out.”

“What?” Robin leans forward to gaze at you, eyes widened in shock at your words, “You’re not leaving the band, Y/N, you— you can’t.”

You ignore Robin and step closer to Erica, eyes burning into her gaze as you speak, and Erica has never seen you this angry in all her years of knowing you. “Call it off.”

Erica will let you believe you have the upper hand for your peace of mind, but when it comes down to reality, you both know you don’t stand a chance against her force of nature. Erica is calm and uncannily patient as she speaks to you, “You’re at a dead-end street, Tiger,” she starts, “You either make a way, or you go back to Hawkins with your tail between your legs like everyone expected.”

Erica sits back in her chair, not even bothering to look at you as she busies herself with the paperwork before her when she adds, “You make the call.”

You glare down at her, throat closing in anger and betrayal. You don’t say another word as you storm out, leaving the room with a booming echo of the heavy glass door slamming shut. Erica sighs, settling back in her chair and gazing at the rest of the band members, who are all silently fuming in anger. “Now, does anyone else have something to say or something of substance to add, or are we done here?” Eddie rises from his seat with clear annoyance, “This is bullshit,” the force of his movement sends his chair back to the wall as he walks out of the room, just as angrily as you had previously done.

The remaining band members sit in silence, avoiding each other's gaze, and Steve breathily laughs, “Well, Dustin, you were wrong,” he teases, smirking when Dustin and Erica turn to him. “Eddie took that pretty well.”

The band members glance at the managers, and Dustin sighs as he leans back in his chair, twisting his mouth in thought and tapping his pen against the table.

“This is gonna be more work than I thought.”

————

a/n: AHHH, YOU'VE MADE IT TO THE END!!! WE HOPE YOU LIKED THIS AND LOVE THEM SO FAR; more to come sooonnnn <3

————

teeny taglist: @tommyvelvet @oeuryale

#WOOOOO #ENJOYYY #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader #drabble #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things au

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harrywavycurly · 9 months

Text

Eddie Munson x Not a Genie!Reader Part 1: Three Bucks✨

Part 2: here

Eddie is walking around a thrift shop in Hawkins looking for stuff to go in his new one bedroom apartment, he sees this cool looking bottle and he doesn’t know why but he decides he likes it enough to buy it. He gets home and dusts it off a bit and before he knows what’s happening a cloud of pink smoke fills his living room and you pop out of no where and go “Hi there! What can I do for you? Oh…do you need help decorating? Or…maybe help getting dressed? I can sew those holes in your jeans for you it’ll take me no time at all.” And Eddie is just standing there all wide eyed holding the bottle in one hand and a rag in the other while you’re smiling and staring at him waiting for him to tell you what he needs you to do.

Then it dawns on you that maybe he doesn’t know who you or what you’re meant for are so you reach your hand out to him and say “You rubbed my bottle so that usually means you need me to help you with something…I’m uhm…well you can call me a life assistant of sorts I can help with just about anything but murder I don’t do that…uh anymore…it’s not good for the conscience.” But Eddie just blinks a few times still very much in shock making you just gently take your bottle out of his grasp so you can place it on the coffee table behind you. “So…what’s first on the agenda?” You ask as you take a seat on his very worn in sofa.

“I must be dreaming.” You laugh as Eddie drops the dust rag he used to clean your bottle so he can run both hands through his hair. “You’re not…actually here I must be dreaming or I inhaled too many fumes from the cleaning stuff and uh yeah..yeah you’re not…real.” You roll your eyes as you place your hands in your lap as he begins to pace the length of his living room.

“I most certainly am real…can I wash your hair for you?” Eddie stops pacing and shoots you a weird look making you shrug and go “I’m just trying to suggest useful things I can do for you…and you’re hair looks uhm like..it could use a nice wash…or two”.

“Are you…a genie?” You shake your head no as you stand up and make your way into his kitchen, he follows behind and runs a hand over his face when he sees you looking in his fridge just to find it’s pretty much empty minus a few beers and a carton of milk.

“I’m not a genie because I don’t grant wishes…I just simply help you with your problems…or uhm…try to at least because sometimes no matter how much I want to even I can’t fix everything.” Eddie just nods as you close his fridge and take a look in his cabinets.

“So you just belong to whoever has your bottle?” You feel your face drop into a frown as you turn and face him, Eddie doesn’t know why but seeing you upset makes his heart drop a bit.

“I used to belong to this lovely woman but she…got rid of me because I couldn’t…I couldn’t fix…her broken heart…where did you find me?” You ask as you sniffle a bit and wipe your eyes. Eddie rubs at the back of his neck as he contemplates telling you the truth or not.

“A uh..thrift store I paid…three bucks for..you.” You just nod and look down at your feet making a senses of sadness take over the kitchen. “You can..wash my hair if you want…if that’s like what would make..you happy?” Eddie doesn’t know why he offers it but he does and when you look at him with a giant grin on your face he decides right then and there that he’ll let you do anything if it means he gets to see you smile like that more often.

#i need y’all to not even ask where this came from lol #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson #modern!eddie munson #my little dungeon master baby

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theoreticslut · 2 years

Text

「 crossing the line 」

eddie munson x fem reader

summary: you didn’t plan on your best friend walking in on you, but you’re certainly not going to complain.

requested: no

word count: 3k

warnings: 18+ smut, use of sex toys, assisted masturbation(?), pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, & pretty girl), fluffy aftercare, subspace if you squint

a/n: i finally did it! i wrote an eddie smut i actually like & am super fucking proud of. its hot, it’s kinda heavy, & its eddie fucking munson so what could be better? there’s a potential this could have a part 2, but i don’t know. i kinda like it where it’s at, but i might be pursuaded into writing more of it. whatever i decide, i hope you like this! Xx

“Oh, fuck. Shit.”

“Ohhh, d-don’t stop. It feels so good.” you whine, no one to hear you but yourself as you slowly pump the silicone cock in and out of your body.

Although it was a Saturday, everyone in your family had left to do one thing or another, leaving you an empty house and plenty of time for yourself which you were not about to let go to waste. It’s been far too long since you’ve had a good orgasm, not the type to sleep around and hook up with anyone willing to fuck.

It wouldn’t be a problem if you had a boyfriend, but unfortunately you happen to be lacking in that department. Hence why you’re left to get yourself off with toys and your fingers. Not that you’d complain though when your toys get the job done quite spectacularly.

“Shit, baby, right there.” You groan, small gasps leaving your body in between all your little whines and whimpers.

You had realized quite awhile ago that you were not a quiet person when it came to sex. If it was needed you could be, but you would much rather be vocal, somehow feeling more pleasure when you could be.

Another thing you had quickly realized about yourself was that you couldn’t stay still either. If something felt good, or god forbid you had a pleasant thought, you were squirming all over the bed.

Eddie was one of those thoughts that made you squirm, walls clenching as a moan would claw itself from your body.

You couldn’t help it. He may be your best friend, but that doesn’t stop you from finding him attractive with that sly smirk of his and those big, brown eyes that would twinkle with mischief.

On top of that, you swear he’s got a body sculpted by the gods. He doesn’t look it, but he has defined muscle from years of playing guitar and helping Wayne out around the trailer.

The only reason you’re aware of this, though, is because he loves picking you up. That first time you felt his muscles against your back and under your hands, you swear you nearly melted.

Ever since then though, his surprising strength is a frequent visitor of your thoughts, usually late at night when you can feel yourself getting warm as your panties become damp.

Some of your favourite thoughts are of his muscles tensing as he plays with your clit, his fingers sliding in and out of your wet little cunt. That or how his muscles would feel as he holds you tight against his chest as he roughly fucks his cock up into you, kissing your neck as he does.

“Fuck, Eddie. I want you so bad.” You practically cry, wishing it was him filling your cunt instead of the silicone dildo.

You can only imagine how good he must feel. Not that you’ve ever talked about your sex lives with each other, but you just feel like he’d know what he’s doing and that he’d do it well.

As the thought crosses your mind you can feel yourself clench against the silicone, your walls getting so tight that it gets difficult to slide the dildo into your heat, feeling each and every one of the fake veins rub against you.

“Fuck, feels so good.”

~.~

As Eddie pulls into your driveway, he’s glad to see that only your car is there to begin with. He loves when the two of you have the house to yourselves, not that you ever do anything that would call for an empty house, but he just feels more relaxed knowing he doesn’t have to try to impress your parents.

Even though the two of you have been friends for years now, he knows how his reputation is received around town and he knows that your parents always keep that in the back of their minds. He’d hate to say or do something that’d make them want him to stay away from you.

You are the best thing in his life, and he’s honestly not sure he could live with you. So he stays on his best behaviour around your parents even now after they’ve known him for about ten years.

Regardless, he’s happy to see that the house will be empty aside from the two of you. He’s been dying to have a movie night with his best friend again, one or both of you often being busy nowadays that you’re seniors in high school. He figures that tonight will probably be the best night for one given that you weren’t assigned much homework for the weekend for once.

Walking into the house, he’s slightly surprised to see that you’re not in the living room. Typically you’d be down here watching tv when the rest of your family is gone.

Pushing the thought aside, however, he starts climbing the stairs to your room, stopping only when he sees your door is mostly closed.

He carefully makes his way to your door, a confused frown on his face, when he hears you gasp and groan from inside, the sounds going straight to his groin as a low fluttering starts in his stomach.

“Shit!” You nearly cry and he can’t stop the heat that crawls up his neck to his cheeks.

You can’t be masturbating, right? His mind is just taking your sounds out of context and filling in the rest, isn’t it?

His curiosity gets the better of him as you continually whine, urging him to push your door open just enough to see what you’re doing.

As soon as he sees you, though, he’s fighting back a groan. There on your bed, you’re all spread out, only wearing a band tee he had gotten you and a small thong - the shirt pushed up over your stomach, bunched just under your breasts as your thong is pulled to the side of your pussy while you pump a pretty pink dildo into you.

Never had he pictured such a lewd sight, but he can’t find the strength to look away as the silicone cock slides in and out of your wet cunt, your fingers circling your clit as your head lolls back.

“Oh my god, it feels so good. Please don’t stop.” You beg, regardless of the fact that you’re the one controlling your pleasure, and Eddie can only swallow a growl as he watches.

From the doorway, he can only wonder what you’re thinking of as you please yourself. That is if you’re even thinking at all or simply acting on pure pleasure.

He’s spent god knows how many nights thinking about you as he tugs on his cock, trying to picture his hand as your warm cunt, but he can’t imagine you’d feel the same about him. You are best friends, and have been for years. There’s no way you’d feel the same, right?

“Please, Eddie. Feels so good.” You whine, gasping as you sink the dildo all the way into your slick folds and Eddie can feel a shiver run down his spine as his dick twitches in his jeans.

“Please, faster.” He hears you cry and he can’t fight the need to be involved any longer.

He needs to see the pink silicone cock be buried deep into your pussy. He needs to see the way you twitch as it slides against your walls up close. He needs you to know he’s there and is thinking of you too.

Pushing his way into the room, he takes consideration to not be too loud as you haven’t noticed his presence, your eyes having been shut tight the entire time so far. Having closed the door, he starts to carefully make his way to the end of the bed where he can finally see just how wet you are.

Smirking to himself, he takes a deep breath to calm his raging hormones. As much as he wants to rip the silicone from your cunt and replace it with his aching cock, he doesn’t want to jump too far ahead and ruin your friendship. He figures that getting you to cum on your dildo is already crossing the line enough, but he needs to see you come undo for him.

Placing his hand over yours, stopping you from circling your clit, he kneels over you as your head snaps up to find him.

~.~

“Eddie…” you gasp, your pussy clenching even as your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you find him hovering over you.

“Hi, baby.” He replies, voice gruff and you immediately know that the sight of you is driving him crazy which only makes you wetter.

“Can I take over for you? Wanna make you feel good.”

You nod, biting your lip as the two of you hold eye contact, Eddie wanting to make sure that you’re okay with this.

“Please, Eddie.” You beg, and that’s all it takes for him to start pumping the pink cock into you, slowly at first as he watches you squirm and buck your hips toward his hand.

“Fuck, honey. You’re so pretty like this.” He groans and all you can do is whine in response.

“So pretty being fucked open by your little silicone cock, aren’t you?”

“So fucking pretty, but you’ve been wanting my cock, haven’t you baby? Been wanting your best friend to fuck you silly, huh?”

You can’t help but cry at his question, not when he decides to start pumping the dildo into you deeper than you even realized was possible.

“That what you’ve been thinking of, honey? Been thinking of me?”

“Mhm.” You hum, tears welling up in your eyes as he fucks you faster.

“Yeah? You’ve been picturing this pretty little dildo as my cock?”

“Well, baby, I can promise you the real thing feels so - much - better.” He teases, voice low as he punctuates each word with a thrust of the dildo as he slows his pace, fucking you nice and deep to the point you feel the head of the silicone cock bruising the inside of your stomach.

“Fuck!” You cry on a particularly hard thrust, grabbing for Eddie’s hand to stop the abuse.

“That hurting you, honey? I’m sorry.” He coos, kissing your navel as he shallows the thrusts, moving to a languid pace as he simply watches you.

“God, you’re so beautiful. Never thought I’d get to see you like this, sweetheart.”

“Never thought I’d be fucking a dildo into your pretty folds as you cry for me.” He continues, using his free hand to wipe the tears that fall from your eyes at the sheer pleasure.

“You getting close to cumming, honey? Your pussy feels tighter than it was.”

“You need me to help you over the ledge?”

You nod, whining as you buck your hips, earning a soft chuckle from the curly haired Adonis that is your best friend.

“Please, Eddie. Wanna cum. Wanna cum so bad.”

“Alright, baby. Relax. I’ve gotcha.” He smiles, keeping up the slow, languid pace but bringing his free hand down to your clit.

“Oh! Oh, Eddie….” You whine, bucking your hips as he bites back a smirk.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Bet it feels real good, huh?”

“Mhm. So good.”

“Good, baby. Cum for me when you’re ready, okay? No holding back.”

You whine, nodding your understanding as you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter and warmer at his ministrations.

“Look at me, sweetheart. Wanna see my pretty girl as she cums.” Eddie commands, and you groan as you lift your head to watch him, feeling that knot tighten even more as you do.

With a whine you're dropping your head back as you can feel your walls clenching tighter against the dildo as you get that much closer to your orgasm.

“Look at me, honey. Wanna see you.” Eddie reminds, and as soon as you make eye contact with him you feel yourself let go, cries and whimpers leaving your lips as you cum around the silicone cock.

“That’s it. So pretty, sweetheart. So fucking pretty cumming for me.” Eddie groans as he watches your pussy clench wildly around the toy.

He waits until you’ve come down from the high, your body relaxing, before he pulls the silicone cock from your cunt, dragging his fingers through your release as it dribbles out.

You can’t help but smile as you watch him bring his fingers to his lips, wanting to taste you, groaning as your slick hits his tongue.

“Do I taste good, Eddie?” You question, smiling down at the curly-haired brunette as he cleans his fingers well after your release is gone from them.

“Heavenly.” He smirks, bringing himself up to lay on top of you, his body slotted between your still open legs.

“Thank you.” You murmur, softly bucking up into his stomach as a lone aftershock of your orgasm rips through you.

“Of course, honey.” He smiles, knowing you’re thanking him for more than just his compliment on your taste.

You nod, eyes drifting closed as you hum and play with his mop of hair, his head resting on your stomach.

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up, huh? Then we can cuddle and listen to music or something.” He offers and you tiredly nod.

With a kiss to your stomach and a smile, he pushes himself up to go grab a warm cloth from the bathroom so he can clean your puffy, abused folds.

You whine as he touches your over-sensitive cunt, even with the lightest pressure he could muster.

“I’m sorry, honey. I know it hurts, but we gotta get you clean.” He murmurs, pausing to give you a moment of reprieve as he pushes some sweaty hair out of your face.

“Still so pretty. You know that?”

“Mm-mm” you hum, shaking your head with furrowed brows as he finishes cleaning your sensitive lips and inner thighs.

“Mhm. You’re so pretty, y/n. Drives me crazy.”

“Not as pretty as you, Eds.”

“Ohh. You think I’m pretty, huh?” He questions as he goes through your dresser drawers to find you a clean pair of underwear.

“So pretty. Got the prettiest eyes and smile, Eds. Such pretty hair, too, you know?”

He shakes his head at your mumbling as he blushes, not believing you but appreciating the words nonetheless.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” You pout, watching him as he pulls a pair of pink, frilly undies from your dresser.

“Didn’t say that, did I?” He challenges as he makes his way back to the bed.

“You didn’t have to. I can tell when you don’t believe me, Eddie.” You huff, still tired from your orgasm but slowly feeling less achy.

“You didn’t believe me either, sweetheart.” He reminds, looking to you to make sure it’s okay if he changes your underwear.

He doesn’t find any alarm or hesitation in your eyes as he looks for an answer, so he carefully pulls the sides of your thong over your hips and down your legs, leaving you bare in front of him as he tosses the skimpy material towards your hamper.

“What if we agree that we’re both pretty?” You offer, having been quiet as he removed your thong.

“I can do that.” He smiles, pulling your clean undies up your legs, lifting your hips with ease as he gets there.

You can’t help but squeal as he lifts your bottom half with ease, still not used to him being able to handle you so easily.

“What? Did I surprise you?”

“Mhm. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you being able to lift me.”

“No?” He questions, patting your butt as he finishes getting your panties on, moving to lay beside you on the bed.

“Mm-mm.” You hum, sighing as you turn onto your side, hugging a pillow to your chest as you rest your head on it, eyes still heavy with tiredness.

You feel Eddie shift on the bed behind you, the bed dipping at your hip as he moves closer to you. His arm comes up around your waist as he pulls you back against his chest which is when you feel his erection against your ass.

Sighing, you shift your hips back to grind against him, drawing a grunt from him as the arm over your waist moves so he can grip your hip.

“D-don’t tease me, y/n.” He warns.

“M’not. Just don’t want you to go soft.”

“I won’t be. Not after all that.” He chuckles, absentmindedly bucking into your ass as he recalls how hot you looked all filled up with a silicone cock.

“Good. I wanna get my energy back before anything else.”

He nearly whimpers at your words, swallowing a groan as he tries to figure out what you’re saying. You can’t possibly be hinting at taking care of him, right?

“Was it not clear that I like you, Eds? I’m not going to leave you with a hard on after what you did for me.”

“Especially after you said it was better than my toy.” You smirk, hearing him choke on another groan as he bucks into your ass, your cunt already getting wet again.

“Fuck, baby. You’re gonna kill me, I swear.“

“Better not. Do you know how long I’ve liked you, eds?”

“Is it anywhere as long as I’ve liked you?”

“I bet it’s longer. I think I’ve liked you since we first met, munson.”

“Then I’ve definitely got you beat, sweetheart. I’ve liked you since I first saw you, which was way before we first met.” He replies and you can hear the smile in his voice as he leans down to kiss your shoulder.

“Mm, I like these nicknames, eds.”

“Yeah? You like being called sweetheart? What about baby? And honey?”

“I like them all, eddie. Think ‘my pretty girl’ is my favourite, though.”

“Yeah? You are my pretty girl, so it’s a good thing you like it.” He smiles, leaning over you which makes you turn your head to look at him, wondering what he’s doing.

When he kisses your lips though, that’s all you need to know as you turn soft under his touch. He’s got you - and your heart - in a chokehold, but you couldn’t care less.

He’s kissing you after getting you to cum all over a dildo for him. You’re more than happy to be his however he wants you.

---------------------------------------------------

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#stranger things #stranger things fanfic #st fanfic #stranger things smut #st smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut

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acasualcrossfade · 2 months

Text

The Law of Contact

Rating: T | Cw: none | Words: 769

Tags: established relationship, established Steddie, busy schedules, cuddles

Prompt: Love is letting yourself be loved (@quinns-shadowy-arts)

Written for @steddielovemonth Day 15

Steve set his keys in the small clay bowl Eddie had made for their second anniversary, smiling slightly at its misshapen shape. It wasn’t a bowl to eat out of, but it was perfect to hold both sets of each of their keys. Steve’s keys clattered against Eddie’s, a sign that the man was home. It was a good thing, too, since Steve desperately yearned for Eddie’s embrace.

Eddie was usually surrounded by law exam study notes and his days were packed with practice exams and study sessions, and Steve knew it’d been too long since they’d just gotten time together. It didn’t help that Steve’s own schedule was taken up with various meetings with the school and parents to take on the assistant principal role.

With their packed schedules, it meant that there was a lot less time for cuddles than Steve would have liked. It was strange to miss someone you lived with, and as Steve slipped off his shoes at the door, he felt a renewed sense of determination to get his fill of cuddles from Eddie.

Despite Eddie being home, the house was quieter than expected. Eddie usually studied in the day and took the evenings for music and Steve was used to walking into the house, welcomed by the strums of Eddie’s guitar.

But as Steve ventured into the living room, he got his answer to the question of the quiet house. Eddie lay asleep on the floor, surrounded by various law books and papers. One arm was thrown over his eyes, and the other stretched across a few loose leaf papers. An abandoned pen lay inches away from his fingers, and Steve guessed Eddie fell asleep with it in his hand.

The man snored softly, the rise of Eddie’s breath making his shirt pull up to reveal a slip of Eddie’s hip, the exact place Steve loved to press his lips. Desire stirred in Steve’s abdomen, but at the sound of Eddie’s deep breathing, Steve’s desire melted into something softer.

Clearly, it’d been a long day for both of them.

Steve knelt down and placed his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, the only way to wake Eddie as gently as possible.

At Steve’s touch, Eddie stirred and woke up slowly, blinking up at Steve with sleepy eyes. “Mm, shit,” Eddie cursed as he rubbed his eyes before sitting up. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He sniffed and leaned into Steve as he stifled a yawn. “When’d you get home?”

“Just now,” Steve whispered as he pressed his lips against the crown of Eddie’s head. “Another meeting ran late and I had to get a few emails out before tomorrow morning.”

Eddie slowly wrapped his arms around Steve, taking his time to run his hands over Steve’s back and shoulders. “You’re working hard.”

“I’m trying,” Steve responded. “I hate being away from you all day.”

Steve missed the days when he was at the Video Store and could come home for lunch and have random days of the week off to hang around with Eddie. Even with them both trying for something new, Steve still wished for those earlier days.

Eddie hummed in agreement. “But I love it when you come home. S’my favorite part of the day. And much better than reading about contract law.”

Steve’s heart swelled at Eddie’s words and he hugged the man tighter as he glanced at Eddie’s various papers and notes. “Mm, contract law looks complicated.”

“I’d rather be studying the law of contact with you,” Eddie nudged, burrowing himself deeper into Steve’s embrace.

Steve’s mind played around with Eddie’s words. “Law of contact? Like, cuddles?”

Eddie gave him a squeeze. “And you say you could never study law,” he chuckled.

“Well, with a law like that, I don’t see why I’m not,” Steve laughed. “But cuddling with you is all I”ve wanted to do all day.” He stroked the man’s inky black curls. “Upstairs?”

Eddie nodded and Steve carefully nudged Eddie off his shoulder and helped Eddie stand. But before he headed upstairs, Eddie pulled Steve closer for a tight embrace.

“Mm, are we starting now?” Steve mumbled, letting himself press into Eddie.

“Mmhmm, and because I know you’ve had a long day, too.”

Steve murmured as Eddie’s hands massaged his shoulders and down his back, physically untangling Steve from the stress of his day. With each touch, Steve decompressed more and more against Eddie until he was practically sagged against the man.

When Eddie shifted to guide him towards the stairs, Steve took Eddies’ hand in his own, allowing himself to be led upstairs for more.

#steddie #steddielovemonth #whatislovedailyprompts #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #acasualcrossfade writes

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justmeinadaze · 1 year

Text

I'm In Control Part 19 (Steddie X You)

A/N: Hi *giggles and blushes* I had way too much fun with this. When it comes to their role-play in this one, this how I pictured them dressed. That picture of Joseph Quinn isn't mine. I got it from ohmybabyjoseph on twitter. I'm not sure if they have a Tumblr! If they do let me know and I can add the correct tag. :). Enjoy <3.

Warnings: Daddy Steve and Sir Eddie and all that that implies (I regret nothing!), as previously stated they do dabble in role-play (Steve being a cop, Eddie a teacher, and reader being a student), there is slight degradation (whore, slut, brat), slapping, spanking as punishment, handcuffing 😈, um... I think that's it lol

Word Count: 3547

“You really need to hire a new assistant. I can’t do everything around here. You know I’m basically working two jobs, right? My old one and my new one.”

“I know angel. I’m looking I promise. Did we get any more roles from studios or anything?”

“Well, I just got this one here a job with Jasmine Fire’s studio.”, you gesture to Avery who smiles as he scrolls through his phone. “I got Steve a role for something but there wasn’t anything available for Eddie. A lot of the studios are looking for women’s roles right now. I floated those to the other agents.”

“You are amazing.”

A heavy sigh filled the room as the boys entered your office. As you turned to greet them, you noticed Steve was in the policeman outfit that he was supposed to wear for the shoot tonight. The uniform itself was formed tightly to his body so every muscle he had, especially on his biceps, could be seen. Hugging his hips was a belt with an empty holster and handcuffs that seemed to have cushiony material fitted in. He still had the scuff along his upper lip and down his jawline that he had when you left their house this morning. He didn’t even bother to style his hair knowing they would do that on set.

Avery’s eyes scanned him up and down as you pressed your lips together, trying to control you smile. He did look fucking sexy but it was so jarring seeing him dressed this way that it made you want to laugh.

“TJ.”

“Officer.”

Steve smirked as he placed his hands on his hips, Eddie flashing his teeth in a big smile as he came to lean on your desk.

“You look good, Steve.”

“Thank you, Avery. I’m not going to lie; I do feel powerful.”

“What’s the role you got him?”, your boss asks.

“Are you se—Can you not see him?!”, you giggled.

“No, I mean where?”, he laughs along with you.

“Oh, um, with…Carnivore films…I think.” Steve nods, affirming your answer.

“Ah, I see. They definitely like to roleplay over there. Their line up would make you believe every pizza delivery boy has a big dick and every girl home on a Friday night is just dying for it.”

TJ grins as he rises from your couch as you come around to lean on your desk next to Eddie. “Have fun tonight, Officer Harrington.” He pats the boy on his shoulder as he heads back to his own office.

“I should probably head out to. Y/N, I just finished the paperwork and sent it to that studio.”

“Thank you, baby.” You smile after him, waiting for your door to close before looking back at Steve. “So…Officer Harrington, huh?”

“Pfft, you like it.”

“Damn, that just sounds hot. Picture it, Eddie. Officer Daddy getting called down to the school run by Principal Sir because little miss misbehaved one too many times.” You painted the scene with your hands before placing them in your lap with a big grin. “Ha-ha! I should write for porn.”

Steve’s eyes jokingly squinted in your direction. “Did you seriously just make that up on the fly right now?”

“No.”, you laughed. “I came up with it five minutes ago when you walked in. Oh! Or Officer Daddy catches little miss while bringing criminal Sir in to be punished.”

“God, I love your dirty mind, princess.” Eddie leans over to kiss your head as he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“Have you two ever done roleplay?”

“I had sex with a girl at the Renaissance fair once. Does that count?”

“No, Mr. Munson. That doesn’t count.” You laugh harder as you press your body closer to him.

“Have you ever done it?”, Steve inquires.

“Naw. Remember, all the stuff we do is new to me.”

“Yeah, ok but you weren’t a virgin when we met so…” Eddie playfully winces as you lightly slap his chest.

“No, I haven’t. To be fair though I didn’t lose my virginity till just before I moved out here and the men I dated after I got here were extremely vanilla. But I didn’t know any better because I was still…learning…I guess. Not that there’s anything wrong with vanilla just…okay, I’m rambling again. I’m going to shut up.”

Steve saunters over and you smile as he lifts you onto your desk, placing himself between your legs as he pulls you to his chest for a hug. “Wow. I’m not going to lie, this feels good.”

“What feels good?”

The man lifts his hands slightly so you can turn your head to answer Eddie’s question before placing them back down to hold you to him.

“I don’t know if it’s the outfit, Steve, or Steve in the outfit but I feel safe. Well, safer than normal when I’m with you guys. I could lay on him like this forever.” Your head turned so your nose was pressed into his shirt as your arms clung to him tighter.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Eddie tuts when he notices his friend’s shaky breath. “Come on, Harrington. You have work later and you still have to drive home, young lady.”

“Oh my god. I just had an idea. Eddie, will you help me?” You push Steve back as you jump down from your desk.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“You.”, you point to the man in uniform. “Come over wearing that tonight.” Winking, you grab the metalhead’s hand and run out of the room.

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

Steve felt slightly odd as he walked up to your door and knocked. You had texted him as he was leaving the shoot, instructing him to do so even though he had a key. After knocking again, this time more aggressively, it finally swung open with Eddie’s frustrated sigh.

“Jesus! Took you long enough, officer!”

Steve’s eyebrows knitted together as he drank in the boy before him. He was dressed rather formally from what he was used to when it came to his friend. His white button up shirt was tucked into a pair of black slacks with a nice pair shiny black shoe. He was even wearing a tie, ignoring that fact that his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his hair still hung to his shoulders.

“I’m sorry. Who are you?”

Eddie exhaled as he pinched the bridge of his nose dramatically. “I’m the teacher that called. I don’t know what else to do! She’s such a brat and she keeps begging me not to rat her out to her parents. I thought maybe a law man could teach her to be more obedient. Little one! Come say hello to the nice gentleman!”

“No! I don’t want to!”, you pout from the bedroom.

“You see what I mean? Get out here right NOW, young lady. Or else I swear to God I will call your parents!”

They hear movement as you shuffle around before sliding out into the hallway. “No, Sir! Please don’t do that. I’m sorry.”

Steve’s jaw fell to the floor. Your hair was pulled back out of your face with a headband as it flowed around what most people would refer to as a typical schoolgirl outfit. The white button up you had on hugged you a bit too tightly so he could see every single sexy curve on your body. The plaid skirt cut off mid-thigh but the white stalkings you had on tried to make up for what they could reaching just above your knee. Your innocent looking eyes met his as you placed your hands behind your back, fidgeting nervously.

He turned to look at Eddie who smirked knowingly up at him. “Well don’t be rude. Say hello, princess.”

“Hello, Officer…?”

Steve gave his attention back to you, fully regaining his composure. “Harrington. Officer Harrington. But you can call me Daddy.” He slowly started walking towards you, his hands resting on his hips as Eddie followed.

“Oh. Um, I don’t think you’re supposed to call officers that.”

“I’m not like other officers, honey.”

You scowl at him as you firm your stance in defiance. “Don’t call me honey. I’m not your honey!”

Steve’s head tilted to the side as his eyes glared into your own. “What else should I call you then, hm? Whore? Slut? I think your teacher came up with a good one for you, brat.”

While he was talking his chest had fully connected with yours, stumbling you backwards as he pushed you down the hall, stopping just outside of your bedroom doorway.

“I’m not a brat! I’m a good girl!”

His hand shot out grabbing with your throat, holding you firmly against the wall.

“Then why am I here, little girl?” His face hovers inches over yours as he turns to look at Eddie. “What else has been going on besides the attitude?”

The metalhead strides closer to you both before leaning on his elbow against the wall beside you. The way he glanced down at you as he answered Steve had your pussy dripping. To have them both exude this kind of control at the same time was overwhelming in the best possible way.

I’m not in control and that’s okay.

“That mouth is the biggest problem. She also never listens to a damn thing I say and then she came to class today with no bra or panties!” Eddie aggressively reached down to pull up your skirt displaying your body to the boy holding you.

They both chuckled as they noticed you rub your thighs together trying to hide the slick that begun to glisten them. Steve released his hold on your throat, turning you around as he pressed himself against you. His feet kick your legs apart, one hand rising to hold your wrists above your head, moaning as the fingers of his other hand glide through your folds.

“See, honey. Good girls listen to their teachers.” His hips grinded against your bare ass as he pushed two of his digits easily into your entrance. “And they definitely wear panties.”

You whined as he pulled his fingers from you and suddenly turned you around, gasping when he slapped your cheek. “Hey. No whining, little girl. I don’t want to hear it. Do you understand me?!”

“Yes, Officer Harrington.”

He slapped you again but this time the lust full look that met his eyes made his cock stiffen even more. Steve struggled to maintain the act as he exhaled heavily, his breath fanning your face.

“What…did I say…to call me?”

“I’m sorry. Yes…yes, Daddy.”

He softly smiled as his thumb caressed your bottom lip. “Good girl.”, he whispered before clearing his throat and pulling himself back into the scene. “Now! I think your teacher here deserves an apology as well. Don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Steve grips your arms and pushes you into the bedroom, wrestling with you slightly till you fall onto your stomach on the mattress. One of his hands holds you down and you feel him move above you until padded metal is wrapped around your wrist. After handcuffing your hands behind your back, he lifts you to your feet before throwing you over his lap.

As he pushes your skirt up, Eddie gently lifts your head as he sits next to Steve, placing your cheek back down on his leg.

“What do you think, Mr. Munson? What’s a good punishment for a brat like her?”

“Hm… 15, you think? Five for each offense.”

You try to hold it in but as he said the number, a little cry left your throat. Steve’s palm swiftly came down on your behind.

“What. Did. I. Say?!”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you meant to do. Don’t do it again or we’ll add to the count.” You acknowledge his request as your punishment begins.

After the first five spanks, you feel your ass start to sting. Steve tenderly runs his hand along the red flesh as Eddie pulls your hair out of your face having long tossed your headband across the room and out of the way after it fell off your head as you keened into his leg.

After delivering you another harsh slap, his fingers drifted between your legs, running along your slick once again. “Jesus, baby girl. You are so fucking wet. Do you like when Daddy spanks you?”

You groan as you try and push back into the feeling. “Yes, Daddy.”

He smacks your ass again a bit closer to your thigh causing you to cry out loudly in pleasure. “You know what I think? I think…that since we are punishing you instead of telling your parents and getting you in trouble…I think you should thank us.”

“Mmm—thank you, Daddy.”

Steve laughs as hit you again a little harder than before. “Not like that, honey. You see how hard Mr. Munson’s cock is?” Your tongue runs along your lips at the sight of bulge that had been steadily growing in Eddie’s slacks. “You should help him with that. Alleviate some of the stress you put him through.”

You nod and Eddie unbuckles his belt, lifting his hips to pull down his pants to his ankles as his dick springs free. He holds it to your lips as you lick the pre cum off his tip before wrapping your mouth around him as you begin to bob your head. His fingers tangle in your hair as he leans back to watch you.

Steve spanks you a couple more times before shoving two of his fingers into your aching hole. Your whimper vibrates around the metalheads cock causing him to groan.

“Fuck me, sweetheart. That’s it.”

The sound of the next two slaps on your skin echoed through the room as Eddie clung tighter to you while you gagged and drooled around him. Steve’s pace quickened as the tears fell down your face. The closer you got to the edge, the harder is free palm slapped against you.

Roughly, you were lifted by your hair off the man’s cock. “Are you going to cum, brat?”

“Yes, Sir. Please. Please—mmm—can I cum?”

As soon as he gives you permission, Steve feels your cunt clench around him, delivering you your last spank causing you to cry out as you came. He lifted you delicately, placing you into a sitting position on his lap. You winced at the feeling of his pants against your bruised skin as he pressed your head to his shoulder.

“You did so good, little miss. Taking your punishment like a good girl. See? You’re learning already.” You curled into him, feeling the same way you had back in your office when he hugged you; safe.

Eddie’s calloused hands roamed along your legs as you smiled over at him. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been behaving in class, Sir.”

“Yeah? You ready to make it up to me?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m ready.”

He grinned as he shook his pants the rest of the way down his legs and rose to his feet, tearing off his shirt along the way. Taking you out of his friends embrace he tossed you onto your stomach against the bed, crawling on his knees over you. He lifted your ass in the air, running the tip of his cock through your puffy lips.

You both moaned as he pushed himself inside of you.

“Fuck. Oh my god.”, you whimpered.

The man’s palm came down hard against your backside. “Watch your mouth.”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Sir. You just feel so good.”

Eddie leaned his chest onto your back, encircling his arm around you throat as he pushed you down flat. Your mouth fell open as his length pressed deeper into you, tapping that spongey spot inside of you that had your eyes flutter closed.

“Yeah? I feel good, sweetheart? You like feeling my cock deep inside you?” When you nodded, he rolled his hips, thrusting into you hard. “Say it, little girl.”

“Yes, Sir. I—mmm—I love feeling your big cock deep inside me.”

Eddie’s head fell beside yours as he grunted into your ear. “Such a—fuck—a filthy girl.” His hands reached under you, ripping your shirt open before fondling your breasts. “Little fucking whore. Do you purposely not wear—mmm—not wear underwear because you know it drives me crazy?”

“Do you like it? When I don’t… wear panties?”

“Yes, baby. I do. I fantasize about bending you over my desk and fucking ruining this pussy.”

Eddie leans back fully on his knees as he thrusts into you rapidly. You mewl as you turn your head to look for Steve. He was still sitting beside you, watching you both with lust blown eyes as he stroked his cock.

“Sir, I’m…I’m going to…can I…?”

“Jesus. Yes, princess. You can cum.”

You screamed into the mattress as the coil snapped. Eddie’s body folded over your own as his palm held your face down, pumping into you as hard as he could, chasing his high. His grunts filled your ears as he came, releasing ropes of his seed inside of you.

You both sat still for a moment, panting heavily before he finally pulled out and fell beside you. Suddenly, you felt yourself being yanked to the edge of the bed as Steve flipped you onto your back. He raised both your legs, resting your heels on his shoulders as guided his cock inside of you.

His pants and boxers shimmied to the floor as he thrust into with an almost animalistic need.

“Daddy! Oh—mmm—fuck!”

From the side, Eddie’s hand gripped your neck tightly. “Watch your mouth.”, he growled. “Didn’t I fucking tell you that? I don’t like repeating myself.”

Steve let one of your legs fall to bed as lean down closer to your face. Your eyes rolled back as his cock pumped deeper into you. “Are we forgetting how to be a good girl?”

“No…no, Daddy. I just—” As if they could read each other’s minds, Eddie’s hand slid from your throat to cover your mouth.

“I…don’t…care.” After every word, he smacked his hips into yours making you cry out. “Maybe, spanking isn’t—mmm—isn’t enough. Maybe little girl shouldn’t be allowed to cum. Then she’ll listen.”

You shook your head as the tears started to streak your face again. “I promise, Daddy. I’ll be good. I’m sorry.”, you pleaded when the boy removed his hand. “Please let me cum. I wanna cum on your cock.”

“Do you think you deserve it, honey?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

You whimper as his fingers came down to circle your clit as he pumps into you faster. “You can cum, pretty girl.”

Steve sucked in his bottom lip as he watched you come undone. Your back arched as you cried harder, clenching around him as you came. He dropped your other leg, pressing his forehead against your own.

“Good girl. Such a good girl cumming so hard for me. You took us both so well, beautiful. Fuck.”

His eyes squeezed shut as he came, groaning as he thrust it as hard as he could into your pussy. You let him lie on top of you for a few moments to catch his breathe until you couldn’t handle the ache in your arms any longer.

“Steve? My arms are starting to tingle.”

“Fuck! Baby, I’m sorry. I forgot.” He quickly ambled to your side, lifting you so he could free your hands.

“Are you okay?”, Eddie asked as he inspected your wrists noticing the imprints on them.

“Yeah. Those hurt a little bit. Are they from set?”

Steve held them in the air as he spoke. “Yeah… I should have known better. The entire production was kind of thrown together. Not like this set here.” He turned to smile at you as you and Eddie laughed.

“She came up with this whole thing. I think we’re having a bad influence on her.”

“Shut up. You two loved it.”

They chuckled as they rose to their feet, tenderly pulling you up by your hands. As you watched them move around your bathroom a small smile remained on your lips. Eddie ran the bath water, reaching for the bottles of smells he knew you loved, and pouring them into the tub. Steve slowly removed the rest of his outfit, collect it from the floor along with the metalheads suit attire along the way, and tossing it in the corner of your bedroom near the laundry basket.

He finally noticed you staring when he got down on his knees to remove you stalkings.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m just…”

Eddie turns off the faucet and swivels around to help remove the rest of your clothes. “You just what?”

They grip your hands tightly as you gradually lower yourself into the bath and they do the same. You move so you can sit on the metalheads lap and he grins as he wraps his arms around you.

Giggling, you reach forward to run your fingers through Steve’s hair. “God. I didn’t realize they put so much crap in your hair.”

“She’s avoiding my question.”, Steve smiles.

“Yeah, she is.”

You roll your eyes as you lean back against the other boy’s chest. “I’m just…thinking about how lucky I am to have you.”

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

@gracieluvthemoon @e-munson666 @luna-munson83

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@atomiclilac @anaibis @notasimp4joey @chelebelletx

@kik51199

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blueywrites · 1 year

Note

you mentioned r yesterday and her age in comparison to Eddie. Can you tell us what she is like other than her age?

Sure, nonny! But I'll let R do the talking for me 😉

an excerpt from chapter one of I Will Wait

writers: @abibliophobiaa, @breddiemunson, @myosotisa, @fracturedarkness, @blue-mossbird

Carver Distilleries was not your ideal job, but it was the job you acquired shortly after a brief stint as an administrative assistant for a local community college. The company touted a prolific background of over thirty years in business and you jumped at the prospect. It had been straightforward enough most days. The phones rang around the clock and you handled the calls as expected, passed them off to their proper channels, and made sure the son of the CEO was happy at all times.

Jason Carver was, to put it lightly, the devil’s incarnate. Most days you wondered if he’d been placed in this life for the sole purpose of bringing suffering to all those around him, with a pitchfork in one hand and tail swishing behind him as he stomped through the halls of the building.

You couldn’t recall off the top of your head a day wherein he had ever been happy. Shockingly so for someone born from wealth and thrusted into the limelight, silver spoon in mouth at birth. Jason was proof that money hardly ever solved all problems.

He reigned as the crowned Prince of the company, his father’s shining star, who never raised his finger to do anything. For years, he rode on the back of his father’s coattails and treated those around them like they were beneath him, nose always upturned, sneer firmly planted on his face.

That evening you were already overwhelmed. There was an issue down in the marketing department regarding a mix-up in schedules, leaving the Carver’s seated next to a family they didn’t particularly have positive dealings with at an upcoming gala. To add to the rising tension, Jason sent you on an errand to retrieve his requested cappuccino. Light foam, two sugars, extra hot. When you’d returned, he was still in a meeting with some of his fathers business executives, hidden behind a glass door. You left the cup for him there, as requested of you, and rushed back to the front desk just as Mr. Steve Harrington walked into the building.

He’d come in looking like any other businessman you’d seen grace the building in the past. Perfectly tailored suit and tie, briefcase in hand, hair coiffed neatly atop his head. Steve Harrington, though young, harnessed a professionalism about him that Jason Carver lacked. There were no sneers aimed your way as he approached the desk and greeted you pleasantly, nor did he scoff at the hand you’d extended in greeting, welcoming him with a soft thanks.

“Mr. Carver is just finishing up another meeting and will be out to retrieve you,” you advise him, walking out from behind your desk. “Would you like coffee, water…tea?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” he says, holding his briefcase tighter within his palm as he makes his way over to the small couch positioned across from you, nestled beside a potted plant. You retreated back to your desk as he pulled a phone from his pocket, voice rising just enough to ask, “Do you happen to have—”

“What is this?!” Jason’s voice boomed from down the hall.

A loud thump echoed from his office, likely from something he’d tossed off his desk in frustration, and you knew well enough to duck behind the covering of your work space. You frantically thumbed the spacebar on your computer to bring it back to life, assuring everyone in your vicinity that you appeared occupied as a shock of blonde hair filled your peripheral. He’d burst into the room with the dejected coffee in hand, hair strewn about messily atop, eyes narrowed in heedless anger.

Your eyes flickered to the cup, then settled back on the opened email on your desktop computer. The subject line held a request for a flower arrangement you were set to purchase for Jason’s fiancé, Chrissy, because he couldn’t be bothered to do it himself.

You let out a soft sigh and explained, “It’s the coffee you asked for.”

His nostrils flared like a bull, the embers burning behind his eyes glowing brighter. “I know it’s the coffee I asked for. I don't pay you to answer me with that sarcastic bullshit—”

“Mr. Carver—” The rise of your voice caught you both off guard, only further angering him.

His eyes narrowed, brows knitted tight across the middle of his forehead, vein pulsing against taut skin growing redder by the second. “I asked for a cappuccino with light foam, two sugars, and asked that you make sure it’s extra hot. This isn’t extra hot. This isn’t even warm. It’s cold.”

“Yes, Mr. Carver. It was hot when I left it on your desk two hours ago. Would you like me to go and get you another one?” You try your best to retain a neutral tone. You’re aware of Steve’s eyes trailing along both your forms, interrupted from his own work by your increasingly heated argument.

He barked out an incredulous laugh, head shaking. “No, I don't want you to get me another coffee. You should have known my meeting would run long and planned accordingly. I don’t know where you get the nerve to talk to me like you are when you seem to have forgotten you are no more than a rece—”

“Mr. Carver.” You both paused at the finality of your tone, throat filled with the bitter taste of the degradation he attempted to throw your way. “Your two thirty meeting for the Tennessee Maple Whiskey commercial is here.”

He clicked his tongue, shooting a glower your way. You already anticipated a meeting in his office later wherein he reminded you of all the reasons why your behavior was unacceptable and why you were lucky to still have a position at Carver Distilleries.

“Fine. Mr. Harrington, give me one moment and I will call you back into my office. I just need to finish running something by my father. As for you—” His eyes darted back to your form. “—I will deal with you later.”

You exhaled a heavy sigh of relief as the blonde haired man sauntered back down the hall, leaving you to the comfort of your generally quiet front desk. Steve still lingered there, one hand curled around his phone, the other lifting the briefcase he held off his lap to set it in the seat beside him. You watched as he rose to his feet and dropped his phone within his pocket, gliding over to your desk with a small white card in hand.

You didn’t need to read the words there to know what he’d slid across your desk. It was an instantaneous understanding, the knowledge of a new opportunity, of a way out from beneath the weight of the man who wanted nothing more than to rule with an iron fist and remind others that they were all beneath him.

He glanced briefly down the hall to ensure no one was listening and leveled his gaze with yours, voice a quieted whisper as he said, “You work well under pressure. Carver is…well, Carver’s an ass. I can offer you more money, if you happen to be looking for another job. You could travel the world working for me instead of sitting behind this desk. Let me know.”

#blueynews #i will wait #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #rockstar eddie munson #st fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut

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sunflower1experiment · 8 months

Text

“Alright everyone sit down.”

Poppy claps excitedly while Sally posed elegantly to show a poised quality within her acting career.

Barneby tilts his head with Wally but then their eyes sparkle at the sight of a feminine figure but then the sound of a deep voice filled the room. “I must say dear Sally, this place is quite extraordinary. Might I add that this beautiful place of beauty and homeliness is exactly what a model like myself was in need of.”

“This is (Y/N) Dream, they’re my friend and they help tend to the sleeping masses! Haha! They actually represent the moon but here we are! A lamp!”

They hold their hip as they speak Cooley, “yah, is you ever need my assistance just call me. We can have a bubble bath, drink some chai, while I set up the meditation room and sleep room.”

Everyone gave them a strange look before [Name] winks to the crowd. “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

They were very relaxed, skinny as a stick yet held themselves to a confident composure.

“Hi neighbor.” Wally smiles up at [Name], “I heard you enjoy tea parties, so Barnaby and I are inviting you for tea.”

[Name] walks with Wally, holding the smaller puppet’s hand while he looks to the dog puppet. “Barnaby. I have the neighbor.”

“Good job buddy! Heya [Name]! Wally tell you about the party?” They sit down next to him while he takes the time to lean on their arm. “Mhm, my precious Darling would never forget about his Dream bestie.”

“[Name] helps me sleep, though they do sleep without breathing.”

“I do!? And you never told me.”

“You said I took your breath away.” [Name] starts laughing aloud, giggling softly while Barnaby chuckles. “Good one buddy! You even made the right punchline!”

“Ha ha ha ha!” Wally’s eyes go wide when they kiss his cheek after. “Thank you Wally Darling. And you Barnaby!!”

Frank crosses his arms, “Now now, where’s the tea? You all invited us yet I see no signs.”

“Hmph! I hope it’s strawberry. It’s my favorite! Oh and some of those sweet tiny cakes!” Julie grabs one and eats it happily while Poppy poured the tea in their small cups.

“Dearies I hope you don’t drink to much, we need them for dinner. Oh and here is your apple Wally.” Wally hums as she placed it down for him to admire but then he noticed [Name] admiring the apple as well.

“Do you also like apples?”

“I actually enjoy those sweet star fruits more than anything but yes. Apple’s, especially pink ladies are quite delicious!”

“Can I have some of those mini cakes?” Frank takes one after Eddie hands it to him. They both look so in sync, handing one another some sugar cubes while one are some cake bite.

“After the tea party we could mediate and I can teach you all the ways of the moon. Specifically the full moon.”

Sally squeals and hugs them, “Yessss! We’ll learn about how the full moon is also the moon of romance!”

“Ha ha, man in the moon is a romantic. He’s full of himself.” Barnaby winks as [Name] starts laughing at the joke again.

“Haha good one, good one!”

Later on

[Name] sets their notebook down, walking towards their lamp. They reach out, pull the string to the lamp then head to bed.

“Goodnight everyone…”

#x black reader #x black fem reader #welcome home wally #wally darling #frank frankly #sally starlight #howdy pillar #julie joyful #poppy welcome home #barnaby b beagle

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toxic-aries · 1 year

Text

found you

paring: eddie munson x gn!reader

summary: post-season 4 episode 9, you discovered a familiar person hiding out in the trailer park.

a/n: I haven't written in so long so bare with me, also it's not proofread so apologies for any mistakes. also, I'll continue with a pt 2 maybe if anyone likes.

feedback & criticism is very appreciated. please let me know if you have any thoughts on how I can approve. thank you :)

You never expected to be put in a situation like this, this isn't what you signed up for. But when you discovered Eddie was accused of murder and all the horrid things the people of Hawkins tried to say about him, you knew it wasn't true. Dustin Henderson was the first to come to you to see if Eddie was with you, and obviously he wasn't so you demanded answers. The next thing you knew, your whole life had been turned upside down…literally.

Finding out about a whole alternate dimension right under Hawkins was the last thing you expected to find out. The whole week felt like a blur…finding Eddie, finding more information about this whole Vecna/Henry/001 person, coming up with a plan to losing Eddie again. Last thing you remember from the upside down was hearing Dustin’s gut wrenching scream for Eddie, then seeing him. His lifeless body. Just laying there. Fighting to bring him with you all, then Steve saying ‘we don't have enough time’. You all left him there.

Left him down there. All alone.

Now here you are, driving the familiar road towards the trailer park. You missed him…so much. It didn't seem fair, he didn't deserve it. You couldnt help but think about seeing all of Eddie’s missing posters being vandalized, putting those stupid devil horns on them, writing ‘freak’ all over it, calling him a monster. It made your blood boil just thinking about the awful things they're saying about him on the news and on the streets. They didn't know the truth, they didn't know Eddie.

“What was that? You muttered to yourself as you passed the trailer park. There was a figure standing in front of Munson's trailer. No it couldn't be. It’s probably just your mind playing tricks on you. The trailer park is cleared out, no one can get in to it. You tried so hard to convince yourself that you were just seeing things. In an effort to sound reasonable, you said to yourself, "It wouldn't hurt to check it out."

Arriving at the trailer park entrance already triggers enough memories. The little things about Eddie…like how terrible of a driver he was, he nearly gave you a heart attack every time you rode with him. When you stepped out of the car, you noticed the figure was still there, just now on its knees. Right in front of the trailer, you considered your second home.

Step by step, the figure became clearer and clearer. You could make out the silhouette of a puffy jacket and long curly hair. It couldn't be him. You saw his body. You remember the last moment you saw him lying there, motionless. The hope that it was him made your pace quicken. Until you were within a few feet of him.

“E-Eddie? you asked, reaching out a hand for his shoulder with a shaky breath. His sudden movement caught you off guard, knocking you flat on your back. He stood over you, his now paler skin reflecting the moonlight. Eddie’s neck had a huge gash on it last that you saw, but now it looks like it healed slightly. It doesn't make sense.

The intense feeling of him standing over you makes your chest feel tighter and tighter. “Eddie. How?” You could barely get out a word. A hand reaches out to you, offering to assist you. You accepted. Eddie's hands were different from normal. His nails were long and pointed, the skin felt rougher. Your hand quickly pulls away from his own, his appearance startled you. It scared you.

It was obvious to him. His eyes met yours…his eyes were so different. You couldn't see those big brown doe eyes anymore. Dark, red-tinted eyes are all that remain. As you searched for the person you once loved, your eyes filled with tears. Where did he go? Where did the Eddie you once loved go? What happened to him? As your hand slowly cupped his face, he softened into your embrace. As if he was craving it. “ What happened to me?” He choked as he spoke, holding back tears, refusing to cry.

With your free hand, you pushed his hair out of his face and then cupped his other cheek. "I don't know," you replied, not really knowing what to say. Tears dripped down his cheeks, his eyes looked so lost…you hated to see him like this. “But, I know we can figure it out.” you reassured him, “I found you Eddie, I won't lose you again.”

if you enjoyed please consider commenting or reblogging, it makes a huge difference ♡

#.paige writes ✎*ೃ˚#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things imagine #joseph quinn #jquinn #.eddie ♡

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pi3tros · 2 years

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𝓦ET DREAMS

eddie munsonxxfemreader

[ in which Eddie Munson has a crush on Hawkin’s golden girl aka the student council president :3! ]

tw [uses of strong language, mature themes]

( based off of Jcole Wet Dreamz, fic relating to the song )

—The school halls were filled with hormonal teenagers and book stuffed bags, feet crumbling against the floor rushing to get to their day's last class. Hands reached to the loud bell that rang, alerting the building that it was finally time for them to go.

Eddie Munson was one of many of those students rushing to class, taking extra time not needed to finish rolling several joints in the forest when he obviously had time in the afternoon, but he couldn’t help the satisfaction of getting his stuff done.

Wild hair bounced onto his head quickly, one foot in the class and the other out when he finally reached inside advanced Chemistry.

“Late again Munson, that will be detention.” The grumpy older woman crabbily snapped, blatant hatred for the Medal head watching him with close eyes as he walked to his seat, next to Wesley Hugh’s, a pretty standard dude that had about every fear in his body activated at any time.

Grumbling lightly, unzipping his bag slamming the black notebook that was filled with his messy handwriting from his blue pen.

Chalk scratched onto the board, making the pink of his ears sink into his hearing uncomfortably. “Alright class, let’s start with something simple following yesterday's homework (which he didn’t do), are two atoms of the same element identical?”

The words the elderly woman spoke came like a foreign language, words going one ear and out the other. You see, the only reason Eddie was in advanced chemistry was that he was a beast at math, words were hard to him.

“Yes, Y/n?”

Your voice rang like a loud bell in his ears, slim doe eyes waking up at the mention of you. “No, simply because there is a possible difference of electrons of an atom can copy.“your voice was like honey, every word dripping with smoothness and confidence that traced him like a dotted line.

Eddie had looked interested in you from the day you stood on the podium reading off your perfect script on why you should be student council president, the glint in your eyes giving him your vote automatically.

He didn’t know what partially made him have such a big crush, maybe you’re hips, or lips, or the way the plush of your breast pushed together as you wrote, or the fresh scent of laundry and lavender he smelt every time you walked past his table to assist the teacher.

Everything about you was appealing, but Eddie knew his little fantasy of the two wouldn’t work, his glances weren’t unnoticed. You were definitely aware of his little crush, you’re good friend Julia even told you how he couldn’t stop staring at you. Eddie Munson was handsome even with all the hatred he got, people wouldn’t admit it, but you would.

His table was at your side, the two of you side by side but not as close as you wanted. Looking at the older woman who took a shaky seat in her chair, she coming farther than expected. Ripping the side of notebook paper, grab your special pen with the red ink matching your white black, and red plaid skirt.

‘hi :)’ you simply wrote, folding the paper nice and neat, throwing it in front of him letting out a sound of paper cracking. With furrowed eyebrows his head slowly turned, seeing you give him a kind smile, back straightened with poise posture.

Eddie couldn’t really process what was going on, not even smiling back as he opened the note quickly. Tried to not seem desperate but it failed. Swallowing down a lump of spit from the random act of kindness, if you would call it that?

Was this some type of sick prank? He wondered to himself, but no, you couldn’t do such a thing, right? Opening up his notebook, lightly ripping a corner trying to be quiet from the old lady’s super hearing or Wesley’s teacher pet urge.

Writing back, trying to make his messy cursive handwriting seem a bit more presentable.

‘Hi there, how r u?’

Throwing the paperback, he quickly looked down at his paper with a few words and numbers. Maybe he was trying too hard, you only said hi, insecurity and regret entering the depths of his brain.

The corners of you’re mouth lifted, smiling, you, smiling at his note. Because he was trying so hard, don’t get it wrong though, though it was cute. Nobody had ever really—it’s complicated.

‘good,ive been noticing u staring at me'

Eddie swore his heart dropped to the tip of his toes when he read that, that sentence alone made him feel like a pervert. Which he wasn’t, he thought that you probably felt that way. Which made him feel even more like a ‘freak’, imagine how the school would react to Eddie Munson creeping on the smartest girl in the building.

That would be over for him.

‘it’s okay tho, i know you didn’t mean it like that

and u r really cute to’

Reading the note, cheeks turned pink and pride swelled in his heart. Cute, Eddie Munson was cute. He never thought he would hear those 4 words in his life. This wasn’t real, it didn’t feel weird, his crush just called him cute. It was almost like a reward if you wanna go into details.

Before he could respond back another one came in a flash of a second, getting excited like it was Christmas waiting for the next gift.

‘have you ever had sex before ?’

Oh.

Now Eddie wasn’t as dumb as people assumed, if a girl asked him, or a boy that out of the blue it obviously meant they wanted to have sex. But that wasn’t possible, not at all. Eddie didn’t really know how to—to have game, sweet talk a girl.

He ain’t never done this before.

‘yeah’

‘r u good at it?’

‘pro at it’

Dumbass, the d in dumb having to be capitalized to punch on the fact that Eddie could have never said anything worse in his life. You see, he was a virgin. And that was embarrassing for his big boy age, he hasn’t touched a pussy since he came out of one.

Eddie swore he could have passed out, you on the underhand had shaken hands at the boldness and fear of rejection of you’re sparkling questions. Note after note you’re inner thoughts getting revealed. It wasn’t that you only wanted to bet to have sex with him, you wanted to get to know him of course, but his dick seemed pretty good so you had to find out sooner or later.

‘oh rlly? i would love to find out :)’

Eddie swore the room got hotter and tighter, pants tightening as he shifted uncomfortably. Getting a boner in Chem, and the fact you added a little smiley face made his head spin and skin get hot. Sweat begins to drip at the back of his neck.

‘your welcome to find out doll’

Doll? doll….Eddie was getting real nervous and uneasy at flirting, he heard everybody call their girl's dolls these days so why not give it a try? It sure did have an effect on you from the way you’re thighs clenched trying to relieve tension, teeth tugging onto your bottom lip writing back.

You knew, had a feeling in you’re gut that Eddie was experienced, he probably had a fling with a hot mom that watched his band play, or one of those gothic chicks that went to Hawkins with the plumpest breast ever seen.

‘how about u come over on Saturday then, my mom and dad will be out with friends till 12:00, 9:30 on the dot?’

‘sure, I’ll see ya there’

The bell rang interrupting his thoughts, shivers running down his spine as you walked past him, sex appeal dripping in your tone as you gave him a small wave, an extra point for a “bye Eddie, see you around.”

He nervously chuckled waving back, a hand immediately dropping letting out a deep sigh. He was in deep shit, Eddie had to learn how to fuck a girl in the best way possible before Saturday night at 9:30. (On the dot)!

#Spotify #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #moodboard messy #aestheitcs #eddie stranger things #steve x reader #munson #eddie my love #part 2 soon #:3 #enjoyyy

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marvelmaniac715 · 10 months

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I love watching the Addams Family live action movies and I love the Chucky franchise, so what did I do? I combined them of course! This is the story of Charles Ray-Addams, a descendant of the original Addams clan, and his family - his lovely wife and twin children, along with his best friend, the reanimated corpse of Eddie Caputo. The neighbourhood in which they reside lives in fear.

————————————————————-

John Oak nervously adjusted the collar of his shirt. He was just an elementary school teacher, he wasn’t used to doing home visits. But there was a family in this neighbourhood who had two young children and refused to send them to school or register them as homeschooled, so John had been sent to enrol the two six year olds as soon as possible.

The house he was standing in front of freaked him out. It was a large, Victorian gothic style mansion, entirely black and grey, with a garden overflowing with weeds. Every second window was caked in a thick layer of dust or smashed, and, rather fittingly in John’s opinion, a murder of crows clustered in the bare trees that surrounded the house’s grounds.

He couldn’t see any people, that was, until he heard a child humming in the distance. When he narrowed his eyes and used his hand to shield his face from the sun, John could spot a small, pale girl with curly red hair partially hidden underneath a black sun hat.

There was a man standing next to her with dark curly hair and brown eyes, assisting the girl as she carefully examined a row of flowers and used a switchblade to carefully pluck them from the grass. It wasn’t just flowers she was collecting, there was also half a dozen weeds lining her basket as the girl busied herself with her task.

John was fairly certain that this was Glenda, the younger twin. To confirm his suspicion, John walked up to the girl, who was kneeling on the ground, and politely tapped her on the shoulder. When she glanced up at him with curious blue eyes, the man asked:

“Excuse me, are you Glenda Ray?”

The child grinned and corrected him:

“Ray-Addams, how can I help you, sir?”

John breathed a sigh of relief, but that sigh caught in his throat when he actually got a good look at the man next to Glenda. His eyes were almost pitch black, and his skin was so pale that he was almost see-through, with a visible waxy texture. There was a thin line encircling his throat, it looked almost like dry, flaking blood. Not to mention the smell emanating from him, it was almost like meeting a corpse!

But he had no time to ask questions about this man, not when he had more pressing matters to get to. Shaking his head in disbelief, as if denial could make the man next to Glenda look more, well, normal, John asked:

“I need to speak to your parents, is this your dad?”

The girl pressed her lips into a thin line and shook her head vehemently, curls bobbing about in the wind in her passion. Then, she stood, pointed towards the man and said:

“No, that’s Uncle Eddie. My papa’s in his study, would you like me to take you to him?”

John nodded, and then, just to fill the awkward silence, gestured towards Glenda’s basket and said:

“Those are lovely flowers, are you giving them to someone?”

Glenda winced for some reason before nodding:

“Yes, they’re for my mama. It’s not my fault they’re lovely, but I can fix them.”

Then, a few moments passed as Glenda looked intently into John’s eyes, before raising her switchblade and advancing towards him slowly.

“You have interesting eyes. My doll Marie Antoinette lost an eye the last time I played with her, may I have one of yours to take its place?”

John paled immediately, and he turned to ‘Uncle Eddie’ for support, and for a moment he thought he’d found it as the man’s face grew serious, but he merely knelt down to Glenda’s height and gently admonished the girl:

“Now Glenda, what did your papa say about injuring people?”

Glenda sighed in disappointment and obediently recited:

“Don’t grievously harm someone without first asking for consent.”

John strongly considered running away, but before he could, Glenda clasped her hands behind her back, switchblade still clutched firmly in hand, smiled innocently and asked in a sugary sweet tone:

“Would it be alright if I took your eye out, sir?”

Eddie smiled and nodded encouragingly at his ‘niece’, and John began to think that he would die here. Then, sensing that there wouldn’t be an answer she liked, Glenda sighed and reached out a hand for one of John’s now shaking hands, grasping it firmly as she led him towards the house, instructing Eddie to search for worms and slugs as she clutched her basket in the other hand.

As the pair reached the door, Glenda removed the flowers from her basket and, using her switchblade, carefully cut the heads off, leaving only the stems, leaves and thorns, whilst the weeds remained fully intact. With a satisfied smile, Glenda placed the butchered plants back into her basket and knocked on the door three times.

The door was answered by a blonde woman who was even paler than her daughter (Glenda had to be her daughter, the two looked so similar). The woman smiled politely at John and introduced herself as Tiffany, confirming that she was Glenda’s mother as she invited him inside. When she caught sight of her daughter’s basket and discovered that the plants were for her, she gasped in delight, kissing her child on the cheek as she carefully placed the weeds and stems in a vase and gushed:

“Oh darling, they’re grotesque! I love them, thank you!”

As John entered the hallway, greeted by entirely monochrome decor, he was offered a glass of lemonade by Tiffany. To avoid being a bad houseguest he accepted, and asked what ingredients were in it. As he raised the glass to his lips, Tiffany responded:

“Lemons, sugar, water, and of course a dash of deadly nightshade to give it some flavour.”

When John heard the last ingredient, his eyes widened as he spluttered and dropped the glass in a panic, thankful that he hadn’t drank any. Immediately, he dropped to his knees to begin gathering the shards of glass together before searching for a trash can, but Tiffany simply shook her head and said:

“Oh, there’s no need, my little girl loves walking on broken glass, I’ll just put the shards on a shelf in the twins’ play room.”

Deeply disturbed, John handed over the broken glass shards and watched as Tiffany went upstairs. Using the silence to her advantage, Glenda crept over to John and grabbed his hand whilst yelling ‘boo!’ She was satisfied by the man’s flinch and grinned as she steered him towards the stairs and called out:

“Papa, there’s a man here to see you!”

There was a prolonged period of silence as a faint crashing sound could be heard from upstairs. But then, a man called down:

“Alright, send him up, my little demon.”

Glenda gave John a gentle shove, adjusted her hat and blurted out:

“Second door on the left!”

Then, she ran back outside, leaving John to face her father entirely alone, with a great deal of dread. He deliberately dragged out his journey upstairs, stopping on every second step to tie his shoelaces or catch his breath. He was so slow that he passed Tiffany on her way back downstairs, and she’d been up there for a good twenty minutes tidying her children’s play room. But he couldn’t delay it forever, and John eventually found himself knocking on the open door of what looked like a study.

When he knocked, a man with wild dark curls that rivalled his daughter’s looked up from his desk with a manic grin. Then, without warning, he launched a dagger at John, who dodged at the very last minute, making a beeline for the safety of the study before wheezing:

“You tried to kill me!”

The man shrugged and insisted, still with a grin on his face:

“I was only testing your reflexes, I like a man who can dodge knives, my own father couldn’t.”

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added:

“The police never found the body.”

John shuddered, becoming increasingly more disturbed. He took a moment to look around the room, his eyes landing on a variety of unusual sculptures and paintings. Each one seemed to depict a human being in a great deal of pain, there was blood featured in every piece, and John wanted to vomit.

Strangely, on one of the walls, there was a cork board filled with pencil drawings done entirely in black and white, also depicting suffering and creepy things, but the drawings looked more like scribbles. Noticing that John was looking at the pictures, his surprisingly jovial attacker said:

“I created most of the pieces in here, but the drawings on that cork board were made by my daughter Glenda, isn’t she talented? I’m Charles by the way, Charles Lee Ray-Addams.”

With these final words the man reached out to shake John’s hand. Before John could say the reason why he was here in order to get this visit over with as soon as possible, a red headed little boy poked his head round the door.

Unlike the other inhabitants of this house, he wore colours other than black - a bright blue and green striped T-shirt. He wasn’t all that pale either, he had rosy pink cheeks, and a touch of sunburn that indicated that he’d been playing outside all day. He was clutching a piece of paper in his right hand, and he presented it to his father with a proud grin:

“I drew this for you, papa!”

The drawing was clearly created using crayons, and it was the brightest, most eye-catching thing in the room, comprised of blues and yellows and greens that stood out against its monochrome surroundings. It was meant to be a drawing of a barn, with a big yellow sun in the top corner, but because the drawing’s creator was only six years old, it looked more like a bunch of scribbles.

When Charles looked at his son’s drawing, he thanked him and went to place it inside a locked drawer, before noticing the hopeful look on the young boy’s face and deciding to pin it up with Glenda’s sketches, causing Glen (because it had to be Glen) to bounce up and down with joy. When Glen had calmed down, Charles bent down and ruffled his son’s hair before gently instructing:

“It’ll be dinner soon, how about you go downstairs and get to your seat before your sister sticks pins in it again?”

Glen nodded and left the study, waving politely at John as he left. When Glen was halfway down the stairs, Charles turned to John and shook his head fondly, confessing:

“He’s not much of an Addams, but he’s still my son so I love him anyway. I suppose it’s the Ray in him, my father was an eternal optimist, the only time he stopped smiling was when he lost our little game of knife toss. Odd man, but at least I got his money when he passed away.”

John was utterly perplexed, how was this sweet young boy the black sheep of the family? He felt an urge to speak up on Glen’s behalf so he cleared his throat and insisted:

“Glen seems like a perfectly fine, healthy, normal boy. There’s nothing wrong or odd with him.”

Charles flinched as if he’d been struck, immediately replying:

“There’s no need to insult the boy, Damballa knows he’s tormented enough by his sister.”

John blinked in shock, unable to process what was even going on anymore. Instead, he decided to press on with the reason for his visit.

“Now, Mr Ray-Addams, about why I’m here-‘

“Ah, yes, why have you come to see me? Trouble with the authorities again? I have a wonderful lawyer, he’s gotten me off of death row four times now, I’ll just call him and let him know what misdemeanours I’ve committed this time, shall I?”

John shook his head and laughed nervously, now realising that he was probably talking to a murderer.

‘Uh, no. It’s about your children, Glen and Glenda…”

He trailed off, realising that he didn’t want to teach the Ray-Addams children. But he couldn’t back out now, could he? He could always suggest homeschooling, right? That was a valid option that the family could consider (so that John never had to see them again). He’d dawdled for quite some time, and in that time Charles had gotten comfortable on his swivel chair and was absentmindedly using pencils as javelins to spear flies that buzzed around his study.

“What about my children, sir? I’m sorry, I just realised that I don’t know your name.”

John squeaked out a terrified:

“John Oak.”

Before returning to silence once more. He was terrified because the more this man knew about him the easier it would be for him to track down and murder him if John said something he didn’t like. So John had to play it very safe. With this in mind, he began explaining:

“Your children were never enrolled into a daycare, or a kindergarten. Local authorities just want to make sure that the twins are enrolled for the next school year, when they turn seven in about four weeks. Or of course you could homeschool, that might be better for you. You’d just have to make it official by filling out a form.”

Charles rested a hand on his chin and nodded thoughtfully as he said:

“My wife and I have been educating our children since they were born. My daughter has a particular passion for Shakespearean tragedies, and my little Glen learnt the periodic table before he learnt his ABCs, the boy just loves blowing things up, that’s how I know for certain that he’s an Addams.”

John nodded and let out a grateful sigh, excited that the Ray-Addams family would be homeschooling. With the decision seemingly made, John produced the required forms on his phone and sat down on a nearby chair to ask Charles a few questions.

“So, what is your current occupation?”

Charles shrugged and replied:

“I inherited a lot of money from my Great Uncle Gomez, not to mention the money from my father, so I mostly just do whatever interests me. I produce and sell art, I suppose. Is that my occupation or should we just put ‘unemployed’?”

John simply wrote ‘unemployed’, and moved on at a rapid pace, firing questions at Charles who had no trouble with keeping up and responding to each question with an in depth answer. Finally, the form was completed, and John could have jumped for joy that he was now able to leave. As he stood up and shook Charles’ hand, beginning to make his exit, Charles politely asked:

“We’re having a family game night tonight after dinner, would you like to stay?”

John was cursed with an inability to be impolite, so he found himself nodding, and immediately regretting that choice. In an attempt to find something positive in this situation, John timidly asked:

“W-what game would we be playing?”

Charles gave him another manic grin and replied:

“Executioner, it’s Glenda and I’s favourite game.”

John didn’t need any more context or proof of the Ray Addams family’s insanity, he simply bolted downstairs and out of the house without a word, faintly aware of Charles calling after him:

“Wait, you’ll come back sometime, won’t you?!”

#chucky #chucky series #childs play #seed of chucky #addams family #crossover #charles lee ray #tiffany valentine #glen ray #glenda ray #original story #horror #fanfiction #humour #human au #crack #eddie caputo

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