#stranger things female reader insert
Photo
GIRLS ON FILM
Photo sources: 1 | 2
Pairings: Steve Harrington/Reader
Warnings: NSFW; smut; fluff; amateur corn production; literally no proof-reading; plot? what plot?
Word Count: 6,001 words
Reader Gender: Female
Author: Meg
Summary: You need a subject for your photography class assignment. Luckily, your boyfriend is more than willing to help you out. Some pictures, however, might be better off left between just the two of you...
A/N: Caught you in 4k 📸 Had to bang this out before volume 2 crushed my soul, so, here you go 🤡🤡 I’m in full clown-mode denial that anything is going to happen to my faves at all rn---
Hoisting your bag onto your arm, you make your way out of the lecture hall, still dwelling on the newest assignment your professor had given out. You were supposed to photograph someone important to you in your own unique portraiture method, which had set off a few groans in class when the professor had first announced it. There were clearly several people who had no idea who they were going to make the subject of their assignment, meanwhile your mind had immediately gone to one specific person.
Steve Harrington was perhaps the most important person in your life right now, which makes sense, considering your relationship with the man has been serious since last March. It was perhaps the only thing he was serious about at this current time in his life, with how he was still undecided on his major after nearly a year and a half’s worth of college courses.
His father wanted him to go into tech, but Steve had been so uncertain that any chance at getting into somewhere other than the community college a county over from Hawkins had flown out the window. It was still a touchy subject, and the fact that his wealthy parents still had him working part-time at the Family Video store, despite pursuing an education, was evidence enough that his father hadn’t forgiven him for not applying himself harder. He has a little over a semester’s worth of classes left until you both are set to transfer to state, and he has to decide on something to do with his life by then in order to appease his parents.
Well, something other than dating you, because you’re the only thing in his life right now that Steve’s absolutely certain he wants.
And you’re absolutely certain that Steve is the man for this assignment.
He’s already helped you set up a few of your other projects for this class, between studying for the few classes you share together, so you’re pretty sure he’ll help you out again, if you ask him nicely.
Pushing past the double doors leading out to the parking lot, it’s not difficult to find his beamer parked right where it always is. Steve’s sitting in the driver’s seat with the window rolled down, undoubtedly enjoying the temperate weather after having got out of his own class that ends thirty minutes before yours. The closer you get, the more you can hear the music on his radio, and it becomes clear that he’s either taking a nap or has his eyes closed behind the sunglasses perched on his nose, because he makes no move to acknowledge your approach.
Leaning on the windowsill, you bend into the car swiftly to place a peck on his cheek, “Guess who?”
“That better be my girlfriend, or I’m in trouble,” he grins, raising his head from where it had been leant back on the seat to look at you through his shades. “How was class?”
“Same old, same old,” you roll your eyes, pushing off the door to go around to the passenger side. Dumping your bag into the back seat, you slide in beside him, continuing, “Dr. Tanner gave us another assignment.”
“Oh?” Steve hums, shifting gears to drive out of the parking lot. “She likes to give you guys a lot of things to do, huh?”
“Yeah, she always is saying that the more we practice, the better our photos will be. I guess she’s right,” you sigh, sinking into the seat and deciding to test the waters. “How about your day? How’s it been?”
Steve groans, jaw clenching as he turns his blinker on, “You don’t want to know. My dad’s gonna’ kill me when I make a C in biology.”
“You got your test back?”
“Unfortunately. At least yesterday I still could live with the hope of getting a B—”
“I’m sure there’s some way to improve your grade. There’s still one more test before the final, right?” You lean towards him, reaching out to give his shoulder a comforting rub, “I’ll help you. I’m doing alright in biology since Dr. O’Malley explains things pretty well.”
“Yeah, but O’Malley at least teaches you what’s gonna’ be on the tests! I feel like every time my guy gives us a lecture, he’s telling us what not to study, because it’s never on his exams!” Steve huffs your name with frustration, “I made a fifty-eight. A fifty-eight! That’s like if a nuke hit my B-average.”
“I’m sorry, Steve. I know you studied hard for it,” you murmur, knowing there’s nothing you can do about it now, and instead focus on perhaps cheering him up, “Want to get drive-thru before we hit the interstate? Like KFC or something? I know you must be starving.” It’s about an hour’s drive back to Hawkins, and food is the only thing that you can think of that might make the situation at least a little better for now.
“Yeah, I guess I could eat,” he doesn’t sound convincing.
You give his shoulder a squeeze, feeling him relax slightly at the touch, “You’ll feel better after.”
The side-eyed glance he gives you lets you see a glimpse of his dark eyes beyond the sunglasses, and you offer him an encouraging smile that he returns, “You’re probably right. Man, I’m moping, aren’t I? Sorry to be such a downer.”
“No, it’s okay. You know you don’t have to be on all the time with me,” when he stops at a red light, he reaches from the gear shift to rest his hand on your thigh, leaning into your touch when you move to caress his cheek. “We’ll work through it together, yeah?”
Steve nods, smile spreading into something more genuine, something that reaches his eyes, when he sighs softly, “What did I do to deserve you, honey?”
“Probably something amazing, I’m sure,” you giggle, before retreating back into your seat and turning up the radio just enough to hear a familiar song you liked.
The wind flowing through his open window ruffles his hair as he continues driving on the turning of the light, “That assignment you were talking about— what’s it going to be this time?”
“Well, I have to take a series of photos involving someone I care about, and make them unique to my personal style.”
“Ah,” he begins, “so who’re you gonna’ ask—?”
Rolling your eyes, you snort, “You, obviously! Who else?”
“I don’t know! I thought, maybe, like, Robin, or your parents, or something—” he quickly runs through his options.
“Of course I was gonna’ ask you, Steve. You’re pretty much the most special person in my life—”
“Aw,” he grins, teasing, “I’m special to you? That’s so sweet.”
“Shut up,” you fight against the warmth rising to your cheeks. Even after all this time, he still can make you flustered, and you know he knows it, “Well, will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Be my subject!”
“Uh, sure,” he hums, “I just gotta’ work this weekend. I’m off Sunday, though, so we could do it then, unless you’re busy.”
“Sunday works,” agreement on your tongue, you’re glad you’ll have a few days to figure out what kind of set up you want for the photos. “You could bring your bio books, too, and we could study together.” Steve groans his reluctance until you point at him, “Hey, I’m gonna’ make sure you get the grade you need, mister!”
“Sunday’s supposed to be a day of rest or something, isn’t it?” he whines, taking the turn towards the restaurant.
“There ain’t no rest for the wicked, Steve,” you tease, grinning, as he shoots you a look beneath a raised brow.
“The wicked, and college students, huh?” Steve shakes his head, a smile lingering on his lips as he pulls up behind the cars waiting in line at the drive-thru, “Come on, tell me what you want.”
Reaching around the seat, you grab your bag to rummage through it in search of some cash, “I’m treating you today, okay? Because you had a bad day— no arguing!” You can tell he wants to, by the time you plop back into your seat with your wallet in hand, but you silence whatever protest he’s about to start into when you lean into his personal space, his eyes darting to your lips when you repeat, “No arguing,” before kissing him.
Trying to keep it proper, considering you were still in semi-public, you don’t give Steve much attention before you’re pulling away, and he’s pouting, but concedes all the same, “Fine, but I’m getting it next time.”
“Mhm,” you hum, biting into your smile as you flip open your wallet.
“I am,” Steve leans towards you, catching your attention with a playful look of determination, shooting your own words back at you. “See this face? No arguing!”
“I’m not arguing!” Gesturing to the car in front of you which had driven forward in the time it had taken for him to get distracted, you refocus him, “Pull up, Steve!”
“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.”
A wide grin cuts along his teeth, like he knows he’ll get his way, which he will. He almost always does, when it comes to treating you to little things like this. Steve was the kind of guy who liked to feel like he was taking care of someone, but the truth was, he needed you just as much as you needed him. Maybe neither of you were truly reliant on each other financially, but when it comes down to the little moments of every day you spent together? Without that, you’re certain you’d simply wither up and die.
Steve had been your safe place, whenever something was going wrong in your life. You knew you could confide in him about anything, and he’d try to support you through it. Maybe that’s why you can allow yourself to give him the same, because Steve Harrington made loving you look easy, even when you knew it wasn’t always the case.
Comfortable is a forbidden word to some couples. They’re so used to the high of a honeymoon phase, or the anxiety of a struggling relationship, that when the lull of everyday comfortability sets in, it’s mistaken for boredom. For something being terribly wrong. You’d been that way once, before him, and judging by what he’d told you of his past relationships, he’d been victim to that same uncertainty in the past.
The truth is, you wouldn’t rather have him any other way. Slipping into this sneaky vulnerability that comes with the soft comfort which spreads through your soul every time he touches you, or calls you his, is a state you’d gladly live in for the rest of your days.
You’ve been head over heels for him for far longer than you ever realized.
That’s why the next couple of days were hard. Whenever you were separated by work, only able to see him between classes and shifts, as silly as it sounds, you’re missing him by Sunday. Sure, he called you the night before— he always makes sure to call you on the days you can’t see each other in person, but you’re still a bundle of nervous excitement as you set up the finishing touches for the photos of him you had planned.
It was a photography studio on a student budget, also known as a sheet pinned against your shoebox of an apartment’s wall, with strategic lighting positioned around it. You’ve decided on seeing what you can accomplish with polaroids, rather than the film processing you’d have to do otherwise.
You wanted to focus on minimalism, on just him, hoping that maybe the lack of focus on anything else would show how little everything else matters in comparison. Or, at least, that it’ll get you a good grade on the project.
Sighing, you plop down onto your bed to get as much a distant look at the set-up as you can in the cramped space, before deciding that it was as close as you had imagined in your head as you were going to get for now. The sound of the key in your lock lets you know it’s just in the nick of time, too, because within moments Steve is pushing open your door.
“Your model has arrived,” he calls out, before catching sight of you on the bed. He does a dramatic little spin to show off his outfit, which consists of a blue sweater and gray slacks, before shutting your front door behind him with a grin, “I’m ready for Vogue.”
Chuckling, “Perfect timing! I just got done setting everything up.” He’s tucking his keys into his pocket when you look around him, “Did you forget your biology book?”
“Ugh,” he groans before collapsing beside you on the bed, pushing himself up on his elbow to affix you with a reluctant, “it’s rotting in the trunk of my car. I was hoping you’d forget about bio…” blinking up at you, he bats his eyes as if to persuade you, “since I’m being such a great guy and helping you out with your project, and all…”
“Steve!” you huff when he pokes you in the side, swatting at his hands, “It’s for your own good!”
“I’ve just accepted my fate at this point—”
“No, come on,” you shift to turn towards him more fully, dangling one leg off the bed with the other crossed beneath your hands. “There’s more fight in you than that! Look, how about we do the shoot, then we can study a little, and spend the rest of the day doing something fun together? At the very least, we should go over your test together…”
A smile slowly parts his lips, as Steve jokes, “Alright, professor, we’ll do it your way,” before sitting up properly to sneak a kiss at your cheek. “So, tell me all about where you want me for this shoot.”
Escaping the way his hands have started to snake around your waist, you move towards the camera you’ve set up on the small space of a kitchen counter that you have, “I’m thinking, polaroids this time. I did regular film for the last project, but the professor is giving us more creative leeway with this one. Besides, I’ve been wanting to do something serious with this thing for class ever since you got me it for my birthday…”
“Oh, yeah,” Steve nods, as if he’s said anything different when you told him the last few project ideas you’ve come up with, “I think that’s a good idea.”
“I’m not finished telling you everything about my idea,” you begin, picking at the camera in your hands as you confess the one point you weren’t entirely sure if he’d be okay with. “I wanted to do a minimalist kind of thing, and you can totally say no if you want to. I’m sure I could make it work otherwise—”
Steve raises a brow at your rambling tone, “What?”
“I was thinking… about maybe taking a few pictures… without your shirt? Like I was going to pose you so it’s like, this artistically minimal kind of thing, and it would only be shots from the waist up, but I totally get if you’re not comfortable with doing that—” your voice dies in your throat when Steve stands up and simply tugs his sweater over his head, laying it over the rails of your bed’s iron footboard.
Moving closer, he smirks at having successfully silenced you, “You want me to sit on the stool?”
“Yeah, um,” you tear your eyes away from him, towards your setup, and the stool sat in the middle of it. “Kind of with your back to me— I’ll show you.”
When you have him successfully positioned, in the stool, pushing his hair the way you want it to look, he grins at your look of concentration, “Can’t get enough of this pretty face, huh?”
“Quit smiling,” you snicker, before pulling back to look at him through the camera lens, “I want a neutral look on your face in these shots.”
“Neutral, huh?” he proceeds to frown.
“Neutral, not frowning! Think of, like, clean laundry, or something that makes you feel calm—”
“Clean laundry?” he was heavily judging your choice, “That’s what makes you calm?”
“Steve,” you whine, lowering the camera from your face, “just think of something calming.”
“Okay, okay, just gimme’ a second,” he relents, as you bring the camera back up to line up the shot. Finally, he breathes, “Got it,” before his face settles into a calm neutral expression, dark brown eyes looking at the camera just the way you want.
“Perfect,” you snap the shot, before hearing the whirr of the film as it gets ejected. Fanning the picture until it starts to appear, you feel your smile spreading when you begin to make out the photo. It turned out great. Setting the picture on the counter, you turn back to Steve, “Alright, just keep doing that. I’m gonna’ get some different angles.”
“Okay. Just make sure you make me look cool,” of course that would be his one concern.
Before you can reposition him again, you try out some different angles. You want to have multiple shots to choose from, so you don’t wind up having to take more pictures of him later. You’d learned your lesson before about not getting enough shots, and it was more of a hassle in the long run than just taking your time while you had everything set up. You spend almost half an hour taking the shots between soft banter with Steve, which is honestly less time than you’d expected it to take, but Steve was more focused today than he usually is.
Flipping through the stack of polaroids you’ve taken, you hold out some for Steve to see, “Wanna’ take a look?”
“We done?”
“I think so. They turned out really nice. I’ll have to narrow down my favorite ones to submit for class…” Steve’s fingers brush yours as he takes the pictures from your hands, looking through them. You hope he thinks they look as good as you do, “What do you think?”
“I think,” his eyes flick up from the pictures to catch your waiting stare, “I’ve never looked better.” You let out a breath of relief, taking the pictures back from him to sort out on the counter, while Steve plucks the camera into his hands, “This is a nifty little thing, huh? I didn’t expect it to be able to make pictures that good.”
“That’s the technology of the ‘80s for you,” you joke, only for a flash and the sound of the camera going off to catch your attention. Whipping your head from the pictures on the counter to Steve, you find him grinning mischievously at you as he fans out a picture of his own, “Steve!”
“What? The photographer never gets to be photographed?” holding out the picture, you watch as the candid image of you sorting through the pictures comes into view, “Look at how beautiful you look.”
“Stop,” you can’t stop your giggles when he slides up into your personal space, positioning the camera like he’s going to take another picture, “you’ll waste the film.”
“It’s not a waste. I could use a few more pictures of you.”
Looking towards him skeptically, “You have pictures of me—”
“Yeah,” he sighs, brushing your hair out of his way to kiss you against your temple, “I could always use more, though.”
“What you should use is that biology book that’s in the trunk of your car,” you turn to face him, leaning against the counter as he rolls his eyes at your cheeky changing of the subject. Backing up, he appears to be thinking, before he turns to go and sit on the edge of your bed, still picking at the camera in his hands.
“You said we wouldn’t study until after the shoot,” Steve mumbles, placing the camera to his side.
“Yeah, and I’m done. I got all the shots I think I need.”
“No, you haven’t,” he begins, and you know better than to play this game with him, when he gets that look in his eyes. You know whatever he’s got in his head can only be a bad idea, but you step forward anyway.
Arms crossed over your chest, it’s too fun to give into him to resist, “Oh? What makes you say that?”
“I was just… thinking…”
“That’s dangerous.”
“Shut up,” Steve chuckles, reaching out when you’re within arm’s reach to tug you closer by the loops in your jeans. “I was just thinking about, maybe… you letting me take some pictures of you. Just for me.”
“Just for you, huh?” you lean your hand on his shoulder, steading yourself from where you stand between his knees. “What kind of pictures?”
“Nothing too bad, just… the last picture I have of you is the one in my wallet, and it’s practically falling apart,” he sighs when you card your fingers into his hair, scraping your nails along his scalp. “How am I supposed to brag about my girl with a picture that looks like it’s been through a world war?”
“And who’s fault is that? I gave it to you brand new—”
“I know, I know, but,” and there are those wide eyes of his again, staring up at you with that pleading look that made you melt to his every whim just about, “I want to remember how you are now, when we’re alone together. Not just some professional photo— though, you look nice in those, too.”
Now, how were you supposed to say no to that?
“Okay, fine,” you sigh, knowing full well you’d let him take as many as he wanted to, “just one picture.” He could use the rest of your film up, if it meant seeing him grin at you like he was. Reloading the camera again is a small price to pay.
“Really?” when you nod, he urges you down into his lap with a firm tug at your hips, until you’re left straddling him. His hand finds the side of your neck, dragging your lips against his in a kiss that’s soft, slow, but laced with his hint of grateful excitement before he pulls away with, “Thank you.”
“Jeez, if that’s the thanks I get for letting you take a picture, I’ll let you take them more often,” you laugh, as he picks the camera off the comforter. “How do you want me to sit for the picture, Steve?”
“Hmm,” he hums thoughtfully, bringing the camera to his face to look at you through it, “that’s a good question. I think… I want you to take your sweater off for it.”
“It’s a cardigan,” you correct, reaching down to unbutton the garment.
“Whatever,” Steve lowers the camera, watching you toss the cardigan onto the footboard of your bed, where his sweater still hangs. It leaves you in the casual tank-top you’d been wearing beneath.
“Do you want to use the set?”
“No, no,” he brings the camera back up, still seemingly deciding on how he wants the picture, “I think I want you to sit on the bed.” Before you can move from his lap, he adds, “It would be more normal. I want it to be kind of natural.”
“Alrighty, then,” you shift, crawling off him and to the side in order to lay back on the bed, until he gets up. When you sit upright, Steve’s standing off the end of the bed with the camera, seemingly mimicking the way you had been lining up your shot earlier.
Noticing the strap of your tank top has slipped down your arm when you shifted positions, you go to push it back up, only for Steve’s voice to stop you, “Uh, can you leave it?”
“What?”
“It just makes you look comfortable,” is his only explanation, but you lower your hand all the same, leaving the strap hanging slightly off your shoulder.
“Is this good?” you ask, but there’s a tension in the air, and judging by the strain in his voice, he can feel it, too.
“Yeah, uh,” you watch as Steve swallows, “can you just, lay back a bit?” Doing as he says, you relax against the comforter a little, and he comes closer. His knees brush the edge of the bed between where your calves dangle off the edge of it. He takes another second, before the shutter goes off along with the flash, and then another picture is ejecting from the camera.
Steve fans it a little, while you raise your foot to press into his abdomen, “Did it turn out how you wanted?”
His eyes are a little glazed over, when he looks from the picture to you, as if he were lost in thought for just a moment, “Um, yeah, take a look.” You take the photo when he offers it to you, only to see yourself spread atop the bed, hair spread around your head like a halo, the strap of your tank top falling off your shoulder. The slight smile on your face only adds to how comfortable you look, and you have to admit, you don’t hate this picture of you.
Steve’s hand comes to your ankle, pushing your foot from his path as he kneels into the bed, settling over your body while you stare at the picture, “I did good, huh?”
“You’re quite the photographer, Mister Harrington,” you tease, casting your eyes upon him again to find that he’s so close. It takes only a shift of his body weight to lower himself enough to capture your lips with his, but while this kiss might be slow, it was far from soft. There’s an edge there, a need in the insistence of his lips against yours. The taste of his tongue scrambling your thoughts until you completely abandon the picture in your grip, leaving it somewhere beside you on the bed, in favor of the feeling of his skin.
Your hands snake up his sides, dragging him closer just as much as your legs do, while Steve kisses you senseless. His fingers splay beneath the end of your shirt, pushing until he can feel the soft press of your stomach, and inching upwards with each passing second. The last thing on either of your minds is studying for biology, and any chance you have at returning to the plan for the day is quickly slipping through your fingertips the more his body presses down into yours.
It crumbles away entirely when he pulls back just enough to utter a breathless, “I need you so bad right now,” before delving down your jaw, dragging his lips along the column of your throat.
“Steve—” you’re just as breathless, and you don’t know if it’s the few days you’ve spent apart, or the fact that you have both been so wound-up over school, but you need him just as badly.
“Please,” he groans against your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses there that were undoubtedly going to leave a mark thanks to the fervor with which he’d descended upon you. You hardly mind. You’ve missed his marks on you, ever since the last ones had faded.
Your tank top is pushed over your chest, a fist in the fabric keeping it up while his other hand presses against your hardening nipples through the bralette you’d chosen to wear today. You hadn’t planned on going anywhere, and wanted to just remain comfortable, but that was backfiring on you now, because you can feel almost everything through the thin fabric.
As if arching into his touch wasn’t enough, Steve questions, “You want it, too, right?”
“Yeah, Steve,” catching him by the jaw to drag his head back up, you mewl against his lips, “I want you.”
His breath shudders from his lips before he draws you into another kiss. Taking his time to strip you down is nothing new, but the words he utters as he pushes his own pants from his hips are.
“I can’t stop thinking about how good you look on camera,” Steve groans, taking himself into his hand, stroking languidly as you shift beneath where he’s knelt himself over you on the bed. Fingers slipping down your thigh, he drags you a little closer, kissing the inside of your knee. You suck in a breath as he pushes himself along your core, spreading your wetness along his length, all the while with a heated look swirling in his dark eyes. When he finally positions himself against your entrance, your mouth falls open, sucking in a soft breath at the feeling of his familiar stretch, but it’s his words that set you on fire, “Now that’s a sight I’d like a picture of.”
It’s an off-handed comment, but now you can’t stop thinking about it. Drowning in the feeling of the slow, steady pace he sets, the idea has time to marinate in the back of your scrambled mind.
You’re reaching for him, brushing your fingertips against his abdomen as you moan his name, but Steve huffs, “Touch yourself,” as he drives his hips into yours once again.
Blinking up at him, you’re struck by the idea of how he would look if you took a picture of him at this very moment, and that thought is perhaps what sets the most foolish words on your tongue, “The camera— Get the camera.”
His hips stutter, and a choked sound comes from him, before he manages to form a sentence, “Are you serious?”
“Just for you,” you nod, and he abandons his grip on your thigh to reach for the polaroid that had wound up against the pillows.
His pace almost stills until he can get the camera in a good enough grip to lift it to his face, and that’s when his thrusts return in long, languid strokes that have you writhing beneath him with the assistance of your fingers pressing circles at your clit, “God, look at you.” His voice is heavy, wrapped around a moan of his own as he presses a hand down against your stomach, pushing your hips down onto his cock in a way that almost makes you cry out, “These are gonna’ turn out great.”
There’s a certain vulnerability to being in front of a camera, and stripped as bare as you were already, you’re practically raw, rubbed against him when the flash bursts upon your skin, camera shutter mixing with your moans as he fucks you slow into the mattress, “Steve, ah—!”
He abandons your stomach to take the photo that slips from the camera, fanning it until it develops enough for him to see the still image resulting from his touch, “Oh, look at how pretty you are.” He holds it out for you to see, but you barely manage a glimpse at yourself before he’s tossing the picture to the side, bringing the camera back up to his eyes.
“You’re— taking another?” you gasp, arching up into your own touch as he hits you deeper with the next roll of his hips.
“Yeah, that’s right. Just a few more—” Steve groans reaching to slip his hand down your thigh, pushing you open even more, “Can you spread your legs a little more— yeah, just like that—” and the shutter’s going off again, the image of you burned into the film as much as it will be in his memory.
You clench around him when the photograph falls onto your chest before he can reach for it, and you hope you’ll never forget the whimper that escapes him when he lowers the camera just slightly. A glimpse of teeth digging into his bottom lip to keep the sounds threatening to spill from him at bay, when he opens his eyes from the feeling, he sees you watching him in a way that seems to spell out your desire in every way words seem incapable of accomplishing right now.
All you can manage are your own sighs of pleasure, when his fingertips overlap yours to press into your clit. Lowering the camera to the bed, he refocuses on turning you into molten lava with every steady, sure stroke, building up the pleasure until it reached a boiling point. Lost somewhere between overstimulation and the peak of your desire, you’re both chasing this feeling and trying to draw it out for as long as it will last.
Your mouth is dry, so you lick your lips, thankful you’re able to think just barely enough to say, “I-It’s not fair. I won’t have any pictures of you.”
“You want some of me?” Steve repeats, as if he didn’t quite hear you right. For all he knows, he hallucinated it at this point, because he’s nearly out of his mind with how good you feel wrapped around him.
“I do,” you shift, using all the energy you have left to push him over, until you’re sitting on top of him. “It’s only fair.” Grinding your hips down into his, his hands catch against your thighs, aiding in your attempt at riding him with just a torturous pace as he had set.
“Oh— Okay,” his head falls back against the bed as he moans, “Yeah— We gotta’ be fair.”
The camera’s in your hands as soon as you can reach for it, but you’re slower than he was. So lost in the feeling that it takes you more time to drag your mind back to the task at hand, until his lips part when you drop your hips down onto him a little quicker than before.
That’s the one.
The snap of the camera seems to only make him rock himself further into your thrusts, and you wind up quite pleased with the way your picture turned out, “Steve, look—” He squeezes your thighs before one of his hands releases you in favor of taking the picture by his index and middle finger, bringing it up to his face.
“Oh, fuck,” he whines at the sight, and you place your hand on his chest in order to get enough leverage to drag yourself almost completely off his cock, just to drop your hips again, and he nearly shouts at the feeling. You’re both shaking, and it shows in the next picture you take of him, but the blurriness is hardly obstructing the view of him, still looking at the photo you’d snapped moments before it.
He falls apart just seconds before you do, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh as the photograph falls from his grip. Fingers carding through his own hair as you ride him through the brunt of it, desperately chasing your own pleasure at this point, until it detonates with the fullness that comes from his shuddering release.
Steve’s weak call of your name falls on deaf ears as you nearly collapse atop him. Shivering white-hot pleasure down your spine until it settles in the involuntary fluttering of your core around him. He supplies a few overstimulated, shallow thrusts as his arms wrap around you, holding you to him for dear life, until you both manage to float down from the devastation you’ve reaped upon each other.
You’re just glad you didn’t drop the camera, because you would hate to have broken it.
Instead, it lays against the mattress much like the rest of you, though you don’t think you’ll ever be able to use it again without thinking back to this moment. Steve’s fingers trace up your spine, as you feel him slowly beginning to even out his breathing beneath your chest.
“Holy shit,” he murmurs into your ear, and you giggle against him.
“Yeah…” moving off of him, you collapse into the bed, careful to avoid any stray polaroid pictures evidencing your love-making that were strewn along the bed.
Steve tilts his head to look at you, chuckling, “I think I should get a video camera for your next birthday—”
“Shut up.”
#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things female reader insert#female reader insert#newstuff female reader insert#fanfiction#fanfic by me#author meg#smut#nsft
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Pretty Girl [ 2 ] — Eddie Munson x fem!reader
Summary — Eddie doesn't like when other guys talk about his girl. You think he's stupid because you're not his girl. He proves you wrong.
Word Count — 2.8k
Warnings — Graphic depictions of sexual activity, kinda mean!eddie, enemies to lovers banter, thigh riding, light face slapping, dirty talk
Part One
18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI
The old metal of the trailer creaked as the door slammed closed. With a wavering hand squeezing his blood-stained nostrils, Eddie glanced away from his reflection in his mirror and poked his head from the restroom doorway. His eyebrows furrowed as he recognized the quick and light footsteps approaching him.
He had practically pleaded with Dustin to not make any more phone calls. He was already embarrassed, more exasperated with the number of times he’s had to stuff his nose with clean tissues, and didn’t want to deal with the scolding and teasing from his friends. Thankfully, none of them had arrived, but, of course, you weren’t like any other person he’d ever met and drove over. If things were different and he wasn’t squeezing his nose with blood seeping beneath his fingernails, he would have paid more attention to the fact that you were there for him. But, stupidly of him, he didn’t think about that. “You came?” He asked, his voice nasally as he squeezed his nose firmly.
Your eyebrows furrowed together with obvious confusion as you neared him. “Of course, I came. Dustin said you needed me.” Now, that wasn’t something he could easily disregard. He wasn’t even sure you knew you had said those words, far too concerned with the pile of bloodied tissues in the corner of the room. You came because he needed you. You pushed his hand aside, carefully tilting his head back and he wordlessly complied. “What happened?”
Now, this was where things became awkward. Roughly an hour ago, Eddie saw something he definitely shouldn’t have. From across the hallway, he watched you. This wasn’t anything new, he could watch you for as long as he could if given the chance, but what was new was the guy across from you. He keeps telling himself he isn’t jealous, couldn’t possibly be. The words overspread his thoughts, suffusing every crevice and space of his head as he watched the spectacle. Maybe, just maybe, if he said the words enough, he’ll eventually believe them. He had to. There isn’t any reason for him to be internally seething with jealousy. You weren’t his. But, God, watching you smile like that because of some random guy was more than enough to have him become nauseous. Seriously, he could feel revulsion bubbling within him.
After you dismissed yourself with a small wave and watched with unfamiliar wrath as this prick motioned for his friends to check you out as you walked away and made a bet on who could fuck you first, he came to a final and startling conclusion. You were his. And that ass these dicks were checking out was definitely not theirs, only his. You ascended up the stairwell and he caught the faintest glance of beneath your skirt. Yeah, that ass and you were only his.
He explained some of what happened and he couldn’t restrain the pleased smile as the concerned softness on your expression deteriorated and was replaced with the familiar annoyance. “You can’t fight people just because they were talking to me.” You sneered.
He removed the small tissue from his nose. “Of course, I can,” He said casually, unbothered by the possessiveness he was displaying. Your glare hardened. “I know you’re mad at me, but you look so good right now.” You did. The sheen of your lipgloss was reflecting from his bedroom light and your hair was styled just how he liked it.
If you were nerved by his words, you didn’t show it. “You could have gotten seriously hurt.” Even though you were pissed with him, nothing new, your honey-laced words rejuvenated him like a gulp of fresh air. Those butterflies fluttered inside him, threatening to tear through his skin and fly amongst your aura.
He smiled boyishly. “You look really beautiful in this skirt, by the way. It really suits you.”
His bloodstained fingers gingerly plucked at the bottom of your skirt, lifting the fabric teasingly before dropping it. “You are infuriating.” You said through clenched teeth.
“And you are quite possibly the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
There was a flash of something in your gaze and he wouldn’t have even caught the change if he hadn’t been mesmerized by the color of your eyes. You blinked and it was gone. “What the hell were you even thinking?” You didn’t know why you even asked. This moron obviously wasn’t thinking.
Another lovesick smile. “You’re all I think about.” His finger caressed the skin above your knee. “You care about my well-being, gorgeous?”
You visibly swallowed. “No, not at all.” You said and you weren’t even convinced by the declaration.
He raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconvinced as well. “Oh, really?” He asked.
You narrowed your eyes. “Yes, really.”
Eddie’s dubious stare remained on you as he thought for a moment. “You might be able to lie to everyone else and have them fooled, but I can always tell and you’re lying right now.”
You crossed your arms across you chest and chuckled humorlessly. “So you think you know everything about me now?” You didn’t know how to feel about being seen so clearly.
He leaned further back against his bedframe and you despised that he behaved with such a casualness, an obvious nonchalance while you were straining to remain as stoic as you could manage. “No, I do know everything about you and I know deep down you like me.”
You rolled your eyes. “I don’t like anything about you.” You lied straight through your teeth, your glittering eyes glowing with a wave of irate anger reserved solely for him. You knew you were lying because there was a different layer of him you were discovering every day and you hated it. you hated that he wasn’t as terrible as you initially thought he was.
“Tell me more.” He demanded, slowly looming closer to you.
“I’m not flirting with you,” You clarified, “This isn’t some dirty talk.”
His face was disconcertingly close to you and even though you pretended the close proximity disgusted you, you didn’t move. “You’re right. This is better.” And for a moment, neither of you said something. “I never noticed your eyes were this pretty.” He could see you; the depths of your eyes illuminated beneath the light, each shadow accustomed to the shadows and darkness glistening on display for him. Small wrinkles creased by your eyes as you softly smiled, a tenderness reserved for him at that moment, and damn, he swore his breath was yanked from his lungs at the sight. “Don’t look at me like that.” He suddenly said.
You blinked, confused. “What?”
“The way you’re looking at me, it’s turning me on.”
Your expression transformed into disbelief before glancing down at his crotch, merely a few inches away. “Are you seriously hard right now?”
He grinned shamelessly. “Can you blame me?” He asked brazenly. “Look at you.” Truth be told, if it was regarding you, it didn’t take much at all for him to get hard.
You refrained from expressing how much you like this. “It’s been less than fifteen minutes and you already have a boner. Do I really have that much of an effect on you?”
There wasn’t any hesitation as he answered. “Absolutely.”
You rolled your eyes. “Stop distracting me.” You pushed his head back again, closely examining inside. The bleeding had stopped and there didn’t appear to be any visible fractures. He would be okay with some ice. “So what were they even saying?” You asked, referring to moment that apparently started everything.
Eddie stiffened, hardly noticeable. “Doesn’t matter. I took care of it.”
“If it’s about me, I deserve to know.”
A moment passed and then another, and he didn’t answer. You were going to ask again in a much more demanding and firmer way when he suddenly sighed heavily. “They were making bets on who could fuck you first.” You could the admission burn his tongue like acrid poison.
Your breathing hitched as you processed his admittance. “You were defending me?” You quietly asked. This definitely made things worse for you. The reason he was starting fights, bruising his knuckles with dark redness and scrapes and scratches, was because they were talking about you. Eddie Munson was defending you in his own perverse way.
“Obviously. You’re not up for grabs. You’re mine.” The way he spoke with careless possession shook you to the core. It was as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. And you supposed to him, it was.
Your walls were slowly tumbling and crashing down. Fix it, your brain screamed. “I’m not yours.”
He smirked and it was almost devilish. “Not yet.”
“Not ever.” You corrected, choosing to ignore the fire coursing through you.
That insolent smirk never dwindled. “I see you’re still pretending you aren’t madly in love with me.” He said with sweet amusement.
Any and all snarky remarks were stolen from you as his hand gently touched your thigh. So soft. So tender. Fucking fix it, your brain screamed. “I hate you.” Was all you could pathetically manage.
His touch was so simple, feather-light, but it left fire trails on your skin. “If you hated me, you wouldn’t have let me cum for you.”
Another observation you couldn’t find a response for. “A mistake that’s never happening again.”
His hand moved upward, so slow you were restraining yourself from shoving his hand beneath your clothes. “You liked it. I know you did.” He said and you despised knowing this was nothing but the truth. He was confronting you, teasing you because you couldn’t deny it. If you really didn’t like watching him stain his clothes with cum, you wouldn’t have allowed it to happen. You would’ve punched him, reported him, done anything other than spread your legs and tease him. You didn’t like it, you loved it. “I bet you touched yourself when you got home.”
You did. You touched yourself with your fingers until they ached, came with muffled screams as you shoved your face into a pillow until your vibrator’s batteries died, and you even used your showerhead. Hearing him moan and whine like a pathetic boy was fucking filthy and you were soaking through your panties by the time you stepped inside your room.
He took your silence as admission. “Fuck, you really did, didn’t you?” He could feel the warmth radiating from beneath your skirt, teasing his fingertips. If he wasn’t hard enough earlier, he was now. He twitched beneath his jeans. “Sit on my lap.”
Don’t do it. “You’re delusional if you think I’m gonna—”
“Don’t be a fucking brat and sit on my lap.” Your brain was losing and you were thinking with your body—your body that was craving him like he was some addicting drug. Without another word, you slowly crawled to him and plopped down on his clothed thigh like you were always meant to be there. You could feel him throbbing against your clit. He was big and thick. His eyes closed for a second, processing what was happening. This was a slice of heaven served to him on a golden platter. “Get yourself off on my thigh, pretty girl. Make a mess for me.”
And just like that, any delusion you might’ve had that you were capable of turning him down, was flushed down the drain. “What?” You asked breathlessly. In that moment, he could’ve demanded you kiss his sneakers and you would’ve fluttered your eyelashes at him as you did so.
He gripped your face with a firmness that might’ve made you whimper if you weren’t so shocked. He squeezed your cheeks with one hand, forcing your lips into a teasing pout. “Rub that pretty pussy on my thigh and make yourself cum.” He wasn’t asking. This was a demand he knew you were going to do for him.
You released a wavering breath as you began to move against him and you could hear your arousal clinging against his jeans. This was embarrassing. But not to him. He was probably sick enough to lick your juices from where you’d been rubbing. “Suck on my fingers and keep those pretty eyes open. Look at me, baby.” His fingers that weren’t tainted by his own blood were inside your mouth and you eagerly sucked, licking and kissing them as if they were his leaking cock. Your lips were flushed as you hollowed your cheeks and he watched you drooled on his fingers with heart eyes. “You are fucking beautiful. Let me see those pretty tits.”
There wasn’t any hesitation this time as you lifted your blouse, displaying your breasts and pinching yourself. Another twitch from his cock and he jerked his hips, earning a soft moan from you. “I could cum just by looking at them, pretty girl.”
You removed his fingers from your mouth. “Call me that again,” Your voice was soft, breathless, and laced with a vulnerability he’d never heard from you before. “Please.” Desperate. Needy.
The arrogant smirk on his pink lips was annoying and you wanted to sit on his face so you wouldn’t have to see it. “Aw, you like being called my pretty girl?” There wasn’t any thoughts floating within your mind. All you could think of was the liquid lava moving through your bloodstream as you rubbed your clit against his cock faster. You only nodded. “I thought you hated me? But look at you, drooling for my cock.”
It was pathetic because you were drooling. You were never going to hear the end of this. He slapped your cheek lightly, pleasantly stinging. His touch didn’t hurt, it never did, but it did get a message across. “Let me hear those pathetic sounds. You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m gonna let you not make any noise.” He was going to memorize and repeat this moment for every time he spit in his hand and jerked himself off. He needed to hear you. He was losing his composure and there was another slap. “I’ve been wanting this for years so fucking moan and say my name.”
“O-Oh, my fucking God, this feels so fucking good.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, quickening your pace. Your facade of disgust and hatred disappeared. “Fuck yes, Eddie!” His hands gripped your waist, fingers dipping into the skin of your ass, and he pushed you down harder against him. “Just like that. Just like that.”
His warm and erratic breaths brushed against your jaw. The softness of his lips kissing and sucking as he moaned against your skin. “Come on, baby, make me cum. You can do it, just keep rubbing that pussy on me. Give it to me.”
His mouth moved against your breasts, kitten-licking your peaked nipples before sucking. Something inside you snapped and there was nothing but blinding pleasure, strong enough to steal the moans and air from your throat as you chased your pleasure. Your eyes closed before there were smaller and quick slaps against your cheek. “Look at me when you cum.” His calloused hand slowly drifted to your throat, a firm and shaky grip.
His body twitched and squirmed beneath you as he whimpered against your chest, tongue swirling against your nipple and his hand squeezing the other. Your movements slowly came to a stop and he released your breast with a playful pop.
His fingertips gently caressed the softness of your cheek, lingering a moment longer on each mark coloring her skin. You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his hand as you closed your eyes. You listened to the hard and quick patter of her heart, to each slow and deliberate breath of his, and the rustling of the leaves outside. And you swore if you listened closely enough, you would’ve heard the thumping beneath his chest. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else,” He whispered, a thought escaping his quivering mouth before he could even process his own voice. You ruined him, tore out his thumping heart with your manicured nails, and devastated him—a devastation he craved, needed like the blood coursing through his veins. He would’ve bruised his knees worshipping the floor you stepped on. You had undoubtedly ruined him and he couldn’t do anything about it but thank you.
In a daze, you tangled your fingers in his hair and pressed your glossed lips against his. He couldn’t breathe. You were kissing him, drunk from your orgasm, bare skin against his thick cock, and he couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. He didn’t move. He didn’t kiss you back. At the lack of reciprocation, you pulled away.
The softness of your lips lingered on his, a ghostly remnant of a daydream he’s had for as long as he could remember. His eyes slowly fluttered open, shock swirling in the pools of darkness. His breathing hitched as he forced himself to breathe. Slow and steady. But he couldn’t because he swore he could almost still taste you. Outside, inside the community and neighborhoods of Hawkins, no one would’ve guessed Hawkin’s It-Girl kissed him, your sweet perfume entangled with his cheap cologne. That’s something nobody could’ve predicted, including himself. Well, and that you rode him until you made yourself and him cum.
Your hair cascaded across your skin as you tilted your head, trying to decipher the gleam in his eyes. Your lips were flushed as if you’d been gnawing on them, and you almost pouted at what you thought was rejection. Disappointment colored your expression and you scooted away from him, suddenly uncomfortable with the silence of the room. “I’m sorry I kissed you.” You stood from him and straightened your clothes, readjusting them. “Let’s just forget about it.”
And you were out the door before he could explain that he literally couldn’t talk or function because his dream girl made him cum so hard he was seeing stars.
Shit.
Taglist — @eddiesguitarskills @twihard08 @twilight-love-nochu-main @names-were-taken @definitelynotecho @sidthedollface2
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fics#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson series#eddie munson self insert#eddie munson x female character#eddie munson x female reader smut#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader
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𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖗,
(OS Eddie Munson x fem!reader geek)
summary: Rival Dungeons and Dragons reader who has a tournament and ends up without clothes. Oops…
word count: 6,6k +
warnings: obv +18, rivalry, unprotected sex, asphyxiation, bad language, cumming inside, female masturbation, culilingus.
a/n: hey lol, i wrote this half asleep so idk how it turned out, i'll see if it's any good or not later, so if there is something wrongly translated or that you don't find makes sense, pls let me know, hugs!
oh and don't copy my idea, it's my own huh 🦄
━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━
The Sith Order.
All the members of the Hellfire Club and your group, The Sith Order, maintained a cordial and mutually respectful relationship, with the exception of the tense rivalry between you and the opposing leader, the insufferable Eddie. You hated him so much, especially now that you had bet your grand dice, which your brother had given you as a gift.
The abandoned cabin loomed like a shadow among the trees of the forest, a forgotten refuge that now housed your group of friends and your imaginary adventures. Inside, the air was filled with a smell of dampness and earth, a constant reminder of nature reclaiming its space. The once cozy and lived-in furniture was now covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs that wove complex patterns in every corner.
The sofa, your throne, was worn out, with upholstery torn in several places, revealing the crumbling yellowed foam at the touch. Dark stains of time adorned the fabric, and every time you moved, a cloud of dust rose like a sigh from the cabin itself. Sitting there, on your stomach, with a furrowed brow and crossed arms, you couldn't help but feel the rough and cold texture of the sofa against your skin, a reminder of your recent defeat in the game.
Around you, the tables wobbled on uneven legs, their surfaces scratched and marked with circles from past glasses. The faded and torn curtains hung sadly from the windows, allowing dim light to filter in and illuminate the dust particles in the air. The floor creaked under the weight of footsteps, and each floorboard seemed to tell a story of abandonment.
In this space, time seemed to have stopped, and every object told the story of a better past now eclipsed by neglect and desolation.
You felt as if a storm was brewing inside you, a mixture of frustration and challenge that consumed you as you sat on the sofa. The defeat in the friendly game was a thorn in your pride, a small battle lost in a war that seemed to extend beyond the game of dragons and dungeons. The rivalry with the Hellfire Club and its leader, Eddie, was the real dragon to be defeated, and every thought of him fueled the flames of your resentment.
Eddie, with his arrogant smile and his ability to bring out the best in his players, had become the antagonist not only in the game, but in your mind and life. You imagined him, with his tousled hair and carefree attitude, as the perfect villain for your campaign, one who seemed to enjoy every time his group came out victorious. The idea that he might consider your defeat as a point in his favor was unbearable.
While your friends continued with the campaign, laughing, stressed, focused, and rolling dice, you immersed yourself in your thoughts, planning your next move. It was not just a matter of winning a game; it was a matter of honor, of proving that your group could overcome any challenge, even the infamous Hellfire Club. Determination began to replace frustration, and although you still felt the bitterness of defeat, there was now a new goal on the horizon: to defeat Eddie and prove that your group was the best in the fantasy game.
But... were you really prepared for tonight?
...
Eddie, with a sly smile and a spark of malice in his eyes, steps forward to greet you in the lair of the Hellfire Club, the basement of the institute, the setting of countless campaigns and now the battlefield of your latest challenge. As the girls from your club gather in the space, filled with detailed maps and meticulously painted character figures, Eddie focuses on you, his most formidable rival.
"Welcome, oh great 'Mialee!'" he exclaims with an exaggeratedly theatrical and ironic tone, making a reference to the elven mage character to underline his mockery. "I hope your spells are as sharp as your tongue this time, and that your strategies are less predictable than your expressions of defeat."
You can feel the gaze of the others on you, some with complicit smiles and others with cautious curiosity. Eddie continues, not missing the opportunity to poke at your pride: "I hope you brought your Dragon Crystal Die, because something tells me you're going to need all the luck you can get."
The lair resonates with the stifled laughter of the club members, and although you know that Eddie's words are part of the rivalry game, you also feel that each joke is a challenge to your skill and determination. With a firm gaze and unwavering resolve, you prepare to show that this battle will be different, that this time, Eddie will be the one left speechless at the end of the night.
"You are living proof that not everything that glitters in a treasure is gold, and in your case, it's not even copper," you say, challenging him as you look him in the eyes. With a confidence that resonates in every word, you confront Eddie, your eyes shining with the reflection of the candles that illuminate the basement. "I hope you haven't forgotten your part of the bet, Eddie," you say with a firm and clear voice that cuts through the tension in the room. "That Orb of Entwined Destinies you so proudly show off will be mine before the moon reaches its zenith."
The Orb of Entwined Destinies was a perfect sphere of dark crystal, with a core that seemed to contain a miniature nebula, ever-changing and slowly rotating. It was more than just an object for Eddie; it was a symbol of his ability to manipulate probabilities and destiny within the game.
The mention of the orb makes Eddie's smile falter for a moment, a crack in his facade of confidence. You know you have hit a sensitive point, reminding him that you are not the only one with something valuable at stake. "Get ready, Eddie," you continue, "because when I'm done with you and the Hellfire Club, that orb will be the trophy of The Sith Order, and your luck will change forever," you spit, leaving the boys dumbfounded, unlike his group of friends, as they were used to this kind of speech.
Lucas, with a carefree smile and a tone bordering on disbelief, tries to lighten the atmosphere that has built up in the room. "Come on, guys, don't you realize? It's just a dumb bet, right? There's no need to turn this into an epic battle or something..." he comments, his voice a thread of sanity in the tapestry of rivalry unfolding before him.
However, his attempt to lighten the mood is quickly quashed by a severe look from both leaders, who in a rare moment of unity gesture to him with a stern gesture and an almost synchronized "Shh!" The seriousness of their bet is not something they are willing to downplay, even with Lucas' playful interjection.
The battle between The Sith Order and the Hellfire Club unfolds in a fantasy world woven with the magic of dragons and dungeons, but the tension is as real as the beating hearts of the players. The room, illuminated by the flickering light of the candles, has transformed into an epic battlefield where each roll of the dice resonates like the clash of swords.
The Sith Order bravely faces the challenges posed by Eddie and his Hellfire Club. The dice roll on the table like distant thunder, dictating the fate of heroes and villains alike. You, The Sith Order, with characters ranging from cunning rogues to powerful sorceresses, maneuver through traps and puzzles that Eddie has crafted with malicious skill. The battle intensifies, with each strategic move and each spell cast adding layers to the unfolding narrative. Your characters fight hordes of infernal creatures, cross dark abysses, and decipher ancient codices to unravel the secrets that will lead them to victory.
As the night progresses, a tie seems imminent. The Hellfire Club has countered every attack, every plan, with a precision bordering on the supernatural. But you, with your leading character, are not willing to give up. With a mix of cunning and a bit of luck, you roll the dice for one last masterful play. Silence fills the room as the dice roll, dancing on the edge of the abyss between victory and defeat. Finally, they settle, and the numbers they show are the harbinger of a tide change. Your play has been successful, overcoming the defenses of the Hellfire Club and securing an unexpected triumph.
Eddie, with a look of genuine astonishment, acknowledges the victory of The Sith Order, albeit reluctantly. You, with a smile of satisfaction, accept the Orb of Entwined Destinies, now rightfully yours.
Amidst the euphoria of victory, one of the girls from your group, with a contagious smile and an overflowing energy, suggests an idea that captures everyone's attention. "How about we celebrate with some pizzas? It would be great to relax and enjoy the moment," she says enthusiastically.
The idea is met with a mix of nods and smiles. It is a comfortable and familiar proposition, a perfect way to lower the intensity of the night and simply enjoy each other's company. Everyone, except you and Eddie, seems to agree. The tension of the battle still clings to you, and the idea of sharing a table with Eddie and his club, even in a neutral and friendly environment, is something that you find hard to accept, just like Eddie.
However, aware that rejecting the offer could be seen as poor sportsmanship, both of you reluctantly agree with a gesture of resignation. "Fine, but only because I'm hungry," you murmur, trying to hide your reluctance behind a practical excuse. Eddie nods silently, his serious expression revealing his reluctant agreement.
And so, with victory still fresh and emotions running high, the group sets off to share a meal that promises to be as full of flavor as it is of interesting dynamics.
The night has slipped into a soft twilight when everyone, now relieved of the tension of the game, finds themselves in Eddie's van. The space is filled with laughter and the sound of bottles clinking together. "Cheers!" the group shouts for the sixth time, raising their beers in the air in a toast that has become a ritual.
Eddie's van, with its worn seats, stickers, dirt, and windows displaying the world passing by at high speed, has become a temporary sanctuary of camaraderie. With each new "Cheers!", the barriers between The Sith Order and the Hellfire Club seem to dissolve a little more, erased by the alcohol and the shared joy. Or so it seems...
Eddie's van snakes along the road, a lonely path flanked by the silhouette of trees gently swaying under the starry sky. In the front seats, silence between Eddie and you is a marked contrast to the bustle that reigns in the back, where the rest of the group sings enthusiastically game anthems, interspersed with laughter and the sound of opening beers.
You, with crossed legs and a beer can resting in your hands, get lost in contemplation of the nature that unfolds before your eyes. The moonlight bathes the landscape, transforming each tree and bush into dancing shadows that play hide and seek with each turn of the road.
Eddie, with his attention focused on the road, drives with a slowness that seems to respect the shared silence. His profile stands out against the occasional glow of distant street lamps, and although you are together in the cabin, an abyss of unspoken words stretches between you.
"Hey..." Eddie's voice breaks the silence, a word hanging in the air that seems to wait for permission to continue. He does not look away from the road, as if fearing that a moment of distraction could reveal more than he intends.
You turn your head towards him, an eyebrow arched in a mixture of surprise and curiosity. It is strange, this attempt at conversation. Outside the game, words between you have been as scarce as leaves in winter. You have never crossed more than strategies and challenges, and now, this attempt at dialogue seems as out of place as a barbarian in a library.
The tension between you is palpable, a taut thread that is woven with each kilometer the van devours. What words will follow that "hey"? Will it be an attempt at a truce, or perhaps the prelude to another challenge? Time seems to stand still as you wait for Eddie to continue, and in that moment, the van is not just a moving vehicle, but a space where two rivals might, just maybe, begin to see each other as something more.
"No... no, nothing. Forget it..." he murmurs softly, not taking his eyes off the road, but now looking more tense, sighing.
You decide not to insist, but this time not averting your gaze from those long locks, but discreetly examining them for some kind of response.
Eddie's van glides to a smooth stop in front of a caravan. As he turns off the engine, Eddie's expression transforms. The seriousness that marked his face during the journey gives way to a genuine smile, an open invitation to continue the night in a space that is as much a part of him as the game they both love. "Come on, guys! The party continues at my place!" he exclaims with enthusiasm, his voice resonating with the promise of more laughter and memories to be created. "We can drink as much as we want, and if anyone's interested, there's weed too. My uncle works nights, so we have the place to ourselves."
Friends and friends respond with a chorus of approval, their stumbling steps and complicit smiles sealing the tacit agreement to extend the celebration. One by one, they enter the caravan, a cozy space illuminated by dim lights and adorned with mementos from trips and caps. A bit messy, but cozy.
You, with a mix of caution and curiosity, are the last to cross the threshold. Your eyes meet Eddie's, and for a moment, the outside world fades away. Eddie closes the door behind you, a simple gesture but loaded with meaning. You stand there, still, remembering the unfinished conversation, the words that Eddie left hanging in the air.
Feeling the weight of the night and the looks charged with unanswered questions, you decide to join the group that has settled in the caravan. You grab a few more beers, your hand brushing against the cold surface of the can, and sit at one end of the narrow sofa from where you can observe the scene. Eddie, on the other hand, seems different tonight. The usual arrogance that characterizes him has given way to an unusual stillness, almost reflective. Was defeat the cause of this change? Or was there something deeper behind his silence?
With each passing minute, glances between you meet like swords in a silent duel, full of questions that neither of you dares to voice aloud. After an hour of this game of looks, you feel the need to escape, if only for a moment, from the intensity of the atmosphere.
"Where is the bathroom?" you ask, your voice strangely formal in the relaxed atmosphere. Eddie points to a small hallway at the back, and you get up, navigating the space filled with laughter and conversations until you reach the bathroom.
Inside, you find yourself facing the mirror, your reflection returning an image of someone who seems to be on the border between two worlds. You wet the back of your neck, not wanting to ruin your makeup, and step out, feeling refreshed but still restless.
As you pass through the narrow exit of the bathroom, you collide with the partially open door of Eddie's room, and curiosity gets the better of you. You discreetly peek inside, your eyes scanning the space that is so intimately his. The room is adorned with posters of rock bands, metal, clothes everywhere, magazines scattered on the floor, and action figures of fantasy heroes, a mix of passions that reveal facets of Eddie that you had never considered. On the bed lies an open diary with scribbles and handwritten notes.
Eddie, with his carefree smile, leans against the doorframe, watching you with curiosity as you try to process the mess. "What are you doing here?" he repeats, his voice gentle but clearly amused by your confused expression. The scent of marijuana is evident, and his eyes, although red, gleam with a mischievous spark. He seems not to mind in the least your presence in his personal sanctuary. You feel like an intruder in an unknown world, every object in the room telling a story that only Eddie knows. However, he, with that calm bordering on indifference, gestures for you to enter. "Come, I'll show you my collection," he says casually, and suddenly, the place transforms. What was chaos before now seems like an art gallery, each hanging T-shirt, each vinyl, and each magazine clipping is a piece of his identity. He guides you through his space, narrating anecdotes of concerts and trips, his voice a thread weaving a tapestry of lived experiences.
The initial embarrassment fades away, replaced by fascination at discovering the depth of Eddie's personality. And as he shares his world with you, the messy room becomes a map of his personal universe, a place that, despite the disorder, now makes sense.
As you survey the room with your gaze, something catches your attention and takes your breath away: a proudly displayed B.C. Rich guitar hanging on the wall.
It is a red and shiny beauty, with its aggressive shapes and air of mystery, a piece that any metal lover would desire. Your heart beats with excitement, not only because of the surprise of finding such a treasure in Eddie's room, but because metal is your passion, one of the many things you have in common with Eddie without even knowing it, a detail he is unaware of.
He notices your excitement and, with a mischievous smile, takes down the guitar and hands it to you. "It's all yours, at least for now," he says with a wink. You hold it in your hands with reverence, feeling the weight of the wood and the coldness of the metal.
With shyness but moved by the emotion, you ask Eddie to play something. He shrugs, regretting the lack of an amplifier, but he is not discouraged. With a mischievous smile, he starts "playing" the guitar silently, mimicking the sounds with his mouth. It's a parody, but there is something about his attitude that invites you to play along.
"Come on, guess which song this is," he challenges you, as he moves his fingers in the air and imaginary sounds of a song fill the room. You concentrate, trying to follow the rhythm and melody that Eddie creates. The silent notes seem to come to life, and suddenly, you recognize it. It's 'Time Is Right' by Whitesnake.
Laughter fills the room as you guess it, and Eddie nods approvingly. "I knew you were one of mine, babe," he says, and in that moment, the guitar is not just an instrument, but a bridge between two souls who share a hidden passion for metal and many other things.
A blush creeps up your cheeks, an unexpected warmth that takes you by surprise. The word "babe" resonates in your ears, a term so casual and yet, loaded with an intimacy you did not expect. It feels as if you are inside the pages of one of those erotic books your mother used to read in secret, where the protagonists, initially at odds, end up wrapped in a story of love and rough sex.
Eddie's gaze has become more intense, his eyes no longer just reflecting the reddish glow of a pot smoker, but also a different glow, deeper, provoked by your presence. There is something about the way he looks at you that makes you feel like you are the only person in the world at that moment, but at the same time, as if he is undressing you.
You find yourself returning his gaze, unable to look away from his eyes. There is a connection, an unspoken understanding that seems to transcend words. And while a part of you wants to laugh at the situation, at how absurd it is to feel like a character in a pornographic novel, you cannot deny the electricity in the air, that spicy tension that hangs between the two of you.
Eddie takes a step towards you, his proximity overwhelming, and although he does not say anything more, he doesn't need to. Words are unnecessary when the looks speak for themselves. And in that instant, in that messy room that smells of marijuana and freedom, you understand that sometimes, real life can be as surprising and exciting as the stories hidden within the pages of a book.
After that moment, the room seems smaller, as if the walls had closed in to witness the silence shared between you. You decide to break the tension with a nervous smile and a change of subject. "Hey... what did you want to ask me before, you know, in the van?" you ask, stuttering slightly as you feel Eddie's scent filling your nostrils.
Eddie leaned against the threshold of the door, just inches away, watching your lips adorned with an intense crimson and your lined eyes attentively. "Ah, that..." he wondered, feigning forgetfulness. "I think I wanted to say something about Dungeons and Dragons, right?" he inquired with irony, biting his lip as he laughed and crossed his arms.
None of this compared to the fantasies you had with Eddie. Let's admit it, you had imagined countless similar scenarios, all related to the game and its protagonist, Eddie. You had wished for him to touch you in the same way he caresses his guitar. You wanted to be that fucking guitar.
"I don't think I want to talk about that right now..." you whispered, slowly moving closer to Eddie, who raised an eyebrow and smiled widely, catching your hint.
"Well then, if you don't want to listen to me, why don't you shut me up?" he whispered near your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He grabbed your belt, holding your short denim skirt, forcing you to be pressed against him. "I said, why don't you shut me up..."
Eddie played dirty even outside of his character. He wanted you to take the initiative, perhaps to mock you or further feed his ego, but you wouldn't allow that to happen. With confidence, you ran your tongue over your lips and approached his neck, whispering, "I don't plan on silencing you. I enjoy listening to you and narrating each campaign..." This excited him, caressing your shoulder and getting closer, causing your breasts to press against him, eliciting a reaction in his groin. "Then, shut me up. I know you've wanted to since you met me," you whispered, trying to provoke him, with some success.
He responded by pushing you against the wall, trapping you between it and his body, placing his thigh between yours and gripping your waist tightly, feeling the coldness of his rings against your bare skin. "What I've wanted since I met you is to fuck you on the Harken map, so that your screams scare away the undead lurking there..." he muttered with a deep voice, softly kissing your collarbone, causing a sigh to escape your lips. With captivating slowness, Eddie guides his lips to yours, each movement deliberate and filled with anticipation. When they finally meet, the kiss is like an explosion of fire, burning and passionate. His lips sink into yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless, and his tongue boldly slides in to explore every corner of your mouth from the very first moment.
As your lips entwine in a sensual dance, his hands find your breasts with a firmness that surprises and excites you at the same time. The pressure of his hands cupping your breasts sends a wave of pleasure through your body, making you involuntarily shudder at the intense and unfamiliar sensation. You never expected this reaction, but you find yourself completely captivated by the desire that Eddie awakens in you, leaving you craving more of his passionate touch.
Eddie suddenly stops, his fingers noticing the absence of the bra he expected to find. A mischievous spark shines in his eyes as he looks at you with a mixture of surprise and desire. With a naughty smile on his lips, he whispers in your ear in a seductive tone, "Wow, looks like the girl comes with nothing...," murmuring with a hoarse voice, his warm breath sending shivers down your naked skin. His comment, though bold, is imbued with an irresistible sensuality that makes you blush and feel even more drawn to him. It feels like you're in a scene taken straight from one of those forbidden novels your mother used to find in the library, but this time, you're the protagonist, enveloped in the heat of shared desire with Eddie.
With expert dexterity, Eddie deepens the kiss, intensifying each brush of his lips against yours. As his tongue explores yours with unrestrained passion, his thigh slides and exerts pressure between yours, finding its way under your denim skirt, lifting it almost completely, hitting just that sensitive spot that makes your whole body react instantly.
"Mhmmm..." an involuntary moan escapes your lips as you feel the perfectly placed pressure of his thigh against you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You feel the need to ride that leg. You were very wet at that moment, so the touch was making you even wetter.
He moves it with precision between yours, creating a delicious friction that awakens sensations that make you gasp against his lips. Each movement is calculated, designed to provoke maximum pleasure, as his thigh finds that sensitive spot on your body, sending waves of excitement through you.
"You've got me so hard..." with a throaty whisper, he makes you aware of the effect you have on him, sending a thrill of excitement down your spine. His warm breath against your lips only increases the intensity of the moment. You feel your heart pounding hard as you let yourself be carried away by the passion swirling around you. Then, with seductive skill, he leans slightly down, his strong hands gripping the bottom of your thighs to open you up and wrap around his waist. The change in position allows his bulge to press directly against your underwear, which is exposed by the previous lifting of your skirt. A wave of desire surges through your being as you feel his prominence brushing directly against your sensitive and swollen clit, sending sparks of pleasure that seem to electrify every fiber of your being.
The movements of his hips are precise and deliberate, each delicious brush torturous while engulfing you deeper into the abyss of pleasure. The sounds of your ragged breathing blend with the seductive whispers and soft moans escaping between hot kisses. You are completely at the mercy of the passion Eddie unleashes in you, lost in the whirlwind of overwhelming sensations that threaten to consume you completely.
The barely contained moan escapes your lips between kisses as you feel Eddie's gentle hip movement, a movement that sends you soaring to the heights of pleasure. Still with your thighs tightly wrapped around his hips, you give in to a wild and passionate kiss, with an intensity that defies any limit.
The kiss becomes a whirlwind of unabated passion, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as you let yourself be carried away by the overwhelming sensations. Amidst the heat of the moment, you feel Eddie release one of your legs, changing the dynamics of the position and making you feel his bulge even more. Now, in this new position, the contact with his clothed cock is even more evident, causing you to instinctively arch your hips towards him, seeking more contact, more friction. You feel his hands grip your buttocks firmly, aggressively pressing you against his jeans, as if he is eager to feel you even closer.
The brushes and hip movements become increasingly intense, a symphony of pleasure that seems to have no end. You are completely immersed in the moment.
"Mmhm... fuck..." Between moans escaping your lips, accompanied by the sensual movements of your hips, Eddie suddenly stops, only to turn off the bedroom light and then guides you, still with your body on top of his, to his disheveled bed. He places you on your back on the tousled sheets, and positions himself above you, burning desire reflected in his gaze as he begins to explore your neck with hot kisses and licks. Each touch of his tongue against your skin awakens an electric sensation that makes you tremble with pleasure. His expert hands play with your nipples from inside your top, squeezing and teasing them while his thighs continue to exert delicious pressure on your intimate area, making you gasp with each movement, holding onto his back.
Slowly, your rival moves down your body with controlled impatience, licking and kissing your abdomen eagerly before quickly lifting your top and leaving you exposed before him. His lips find your breasts, and he kisses and licks them with devotion, as if they are the most delicious thing he has ever tasted. His long hair sometimes gets tangled in his face, but when you start gently tugging on it for pleasure, he moves away, leaving behind an incredibly enticing scene that makes you arch your hips forward instinctively.
While Eddie continues to lavish attention on your breasts, his hands begin to explore above your underwear with his ring finger, stroking gently from top to bottom. "Do you like it like this?" he asks between kisses and licks, asking you with a husky voice if you're enjoying yourself, establishing an intimate and desire-filled dialogue that only increases the sexual tension between you. "Or is it better like this?" he increases the speed of his touch.
Your silence prompts Eddie to grab your chin firmly, his fingers exerting a dominant and sexual pressure as he forces you to look into his eyes. When you finally respond to his question with an intense gaze, he slowly releases you, going back down to give attention to your body. His lips find your panties, and he kisses and licks them eagerly, soaking them with his saliva mixed with your own excited wetness.
With precise and deliberate movements, Eddie slowly pulls down your panties, placing soft kisses on your inner thigh as he slides them down your legs. Once he has removed your panties, his eyes meet your exposed, naked, and wet pussy, and he can't help but feel his cock throbbing with an unprecedented intensity, eager to satisfy the burning desire between them. You feel incredibly exposed under his heated gaze, but Eddie sees you as a work of art, a sight that excites him to the limit. Without wasting time, Eddie gives you a generic lick to your wet pussy, spreading your lips with his fingers to access your exposed clit directly. An overwhelming moan escapes your lips at the wave of pleasure that courses through your body, but Eddie quickly covers your mouth, whispering that you can't moan to avoid being heard in the common area where the others are.
With a mischievous smile on his face, Eddie realizes that the loud music has concealed any sound that would have revealed their activities in the bedroom. With your mouth still covered, he delves into the task with renewed eagerness, licking and sucking your clit with an intensity that makes your body arch in response. Each suck and each lick sends waves of pleasure through you, taking you to the edge of ecstasy over and over again. Your hips move instinctively in response to the overwhelming pleasure, but Eddie firmly controls them, maintaining a rhythm that takes you closer and closer to the precipice of pleasure. With an expert hand, he begins caressing your abdomen, slowly descending until reaching your clit, parting his mouth for a moment to touch it with his fingers before inserting two of them without any prior preparation.
The sudden stimulus causes your eyes to roll back, and your thighs tighten with force from the pleasure that overwhelms you, arching your back and moving your hips towards the direction of the long-haired person. In a short time, Eddie goes back to action, losing himself between your thighs as he continues moving his fingers with unwavering determination.
He continues like this for a few minutes, not stopping for a moment, until you feel that you're about to reach climax. You grab his hair with incredible strength, almost burying your fingers in its roots, urging him to continue, feeling like you're about to burst in his mouth. But just as you're on the edge of orgasm, he pulls away from you, leaving a thread of saliva mixed with your wetness as a separation between his mouth and your pussy, leaving you in a state of uncontrollable anticipation and desire.
Eddie, eager to satisfy his burning desire, hastily fumbles with his zipper and unleashes his erect cock, ready for action. Eddie's cock, although of average size, has a peculiarity that sets it apart: a curved shape that gives it a unique and distinctive appearance. Its thickness is notable, and the veins that run along its length add texture to its look. The skin that covers it has a pink tone, with a reddish hue indicating the excitement that engulfs it. A slightly glistening liquid adorns its tip. It is an image that reflects virility and desire, a promise of intense pleasure about to be unleashed.
"How does this look, huh?" he moves it, noticeably sensitive, gently rubbing it against your clit, giving you a mischievous look as if he's playing a game with you. Without warning, after lightly masturbating it, he quickly and decisively inserts it into you, completely surprising you and leaving you breathless. "Mhmmm..." he sighs deeply, as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, arching his head backward. From the very first second, he begins to thrust into you with a dizzying rhythm, penetrating you deeply over and over again. You are overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure that engulfs you, unable to articulate a single word as you completely surrender to the wild thrusts of the guy. Each thrust hits your insides with overpowering force, sending waves of ecstasy through your body.
Despite the initial discomfort from the lack of preparation, you find yourself immersed in a whirlwind of sensations that make you lose track of time and space.
You writhe under him, unable to hold back the moans that escape your lips as you completely surrender to the frenzied pleasure that consumes you. Although it hurts, you can't help but enjoy every thrust, every touch of his skin against yours ignites a burning fire inside you.
He grabs you by the neck with a firm but dominant hand, stopping any sound that could escape your lips. His warm breath brushes against your ear as he whispers with a husky and authoritative voice, "Shut up." The words, loaded with desire and determination, send a shiver down your spine, leaving you breathless and obedient to his command. You are completely surrendered to him, unable to do anything but obey his orders as you let yourself be carried away by the frenzied passion that burns between you. The orgasm that you had almost experienced less than a minute ago begins to resonate through your body again, but the intensity of Eddie's thrusts makes you feel like you're on the verge of a great climax. You are completely overwhelmed by the avalanche of sensations that envelop you, unable to resist the tide of pleasure that drags you into an endless abyss of ecstasy. Your increasingly intense and uncontrolled moans blend with the background music, creating a symphony of pleasure and ecstasy that fills the room. Eddie, releasing his hand from your neck, begins to hit your thigh and butt with a mixture of desire and unbridled passion. As he continues to thrust into you with force, his lascivious words fill the air, whispering in your ear with a deep and seductive voice.
He tells you how much he has wanted to fuck that pussy of yours, expressing his most intimate desires with an exciting crudeness that makes you shiver with pleasure. He calls you a slut with a tone of desire and adoration, celebrating your sexuality and the way you grip his cock with every thrust. Those words, charged with lust and desire, only increase the intensity of the moment, pushing you closer to climax with each word that comes out of his mouth.
You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, every thrust of Eddie sending waves of pleasure through your body. He perceives it too, thanks to the way your pussy grips his cock, and he lets out a guttural grunt of satisfaction. You're on the edge of the abyss, about to let the ecstasy completely envelop you, while Eddie's lascivious moans and words push you towards the most glorious climax you've ever experienced
You feel the ecstasy completely enveloping you, a overwhelming wave of pleasure that shakes you to your core. Your walls contract tightly around Eddie's cock, squeezing with an intensity that makes him moan with pleasure. "Damn, you're so tight..."
Your body trembles uncontrollably, your eyes rolling back in your head as a guttural groan escapes from your lips, louder and more heartbreaking than ever before.
However, before you can fully recover from your orgasm, Eddie aggressively grabs you by the throat again, his expression a wild mix of concentration, excitement, and a hint of anger. With notable abruptness, he continues fucking with a renewed ferocity, as if taking revenge for something, but this time he has absolute control. The sensation of being taken with such force awakens a wild fire inside you, a overflowing passion that mixes with pain and pleasure in a symphony of indescribable sensations. You are completely immersed in the erotic game between you and Eddie, each thrust taking you further into the abyss of shared desire.
Thegame is now tied, each one taking the lead at different moments. You feel Eddie moaning with an unusual intensity, sensing that he's about to reach climax. You want to warn him not to come inside, but your throat is blocked by Eddie's firm hand, keeping you from articulating any words. A slight shiver runs through his body when he perceives your attempt to communicate your desire, but it's too late.
With a few final shaky thrusts, Eddie gives in to the avalanche of pleasure, releasing his hot and trembling liquid inside you. You accept his release without reserve, watching Eddie's expression as he does so. His face shows an unusual vulnerability, with arched eyebrows and a lost look somewhere in the room. His slightly parted lips release his moans of pleasure, and his hands grip your hips tightly, as if clinging to you for support.
After Eddie releases his liquid inside you, he slowly retreats and lies down by your side. Both of you remain staring at the ceiling, and suddenly, a nervous and uncontrollable laughter overwhelms you. Eddie looks at you strangely and asks what's happening. Between laughs, you respond that you just imagined that all of this was one of his campaigns, a kind of joke or experiment designed to test your limits and reactions. The surprise on Eddie's face turns into a knowing smile when he realizes that you have disarmed the tension of the moment with your humorous comment. Both of you give in to laughter, releasing the accumulated tension and sharing a moment of complicity after the unrestrained passion you just experienced together. It's an unexpected and light ending to an intimate and passionate encounter.
#d&d#dungeons and dragons#dungeons#dragons#dungeons and daddies#enemies to lovers#enemies#enemies to friends to lovers#fanfic#eddie#eddie munson#oneshot#one shot#eddiemunson#eddie munson writing#eddie munson enemies to lovers#eddie munson reader insert#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson smut#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson story#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fem!reader#eddie munson fics#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson x female reader#stranger things#stranger things 4
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Velma
eddie munson x fem!reader
You attend a Halloween party with Eddie, things don't go quite as planned when Jason Carver acts like a jerk.
cw: allusions to curvy reader, drinking, drugs, blood, violence, eddie fights off screen, body insecurities, kissing, not proofread, working on writing fluff
Word Count: 5.5k
masterlist
—
“Are you gonna go to Chelsea Hanover’s Halloween party?” Eddie asked, long legs hanging out the back of his van. His stained Reeboks were planted firmly on the concrete, knees pushing out of the rips in his black jeans. You sat in the parking lot of the movie theater, eating the remainder of the snacks you hadn’t finished earlier. The night was quiet, most Hawkins residents already tucked safely into their beds.
You paused midway through trying to shove a handful of popcorn into your mouth, is Eddie going insane? “Are you going to Chelsea Hanover’s Halloween party?” You were practically gawking as you swung your sock-covered feet in the crisp night air. The sneakers you wore had been abandoned in a pile on the shag carpet.
You thought Eddie was over all the stupid high school activities at this point, with it being his third go at senior-year and all. He’d never talked about going to a party in the past six months of your budding friendship, and, in Hawkins, there were plenty of parties to attend.
He was quiet as he took another drink from his slushie, red-stained lips turning up into a smirk. “I was thinking about going to sell. Make some money off the rich kids.”
“What, do you want me to come entertain you?” There was an edge to your voice that you didn’t expect. Your chest felt tight as soon as he brought up the party, anxiety knitting your lungs together. You traced the cracks in the asphalt with your eyes.
Your frustration wasn’t meant for Eddie, it rarely ever was.
You had to stop pretending that all your so-called friends from your junior year of high school weren’t because of Billy. None of them had even bothered to speak to you since he dumped you like trash last summer. And especially not since the day of his funeral. They were fake and plastic people.
Eddie chuckled, fishing his carton of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He didn’t seem to notice how stiff you’d become, your legs rigid in the night air. “Well, yeah. If you want. It could be a night of making fun of Hawkins’ finest.”
You smiled weakly, trying to hide the sour mood that had come over you. Eddie just wanted a friend to be there–you knew Gareth and Jeff would say no immediately. You didn’t want to throw him to the wolves alone. Chelsea Hanover’s parties were awful if you didn’t know anyone or didn’t want to dance. Eddie didn’t seem like much of a dancer to you. “You know what, sure. Count me in, Munson.”
His pearly white teeth lit up in the glow of his lighter as he brought the cigarette to his lips, a smile radiating across his masculine features. A tendril of anxiety wrapped around your throat as you filed through worst-case-scenarios, each growing more and more catastrophic.
Your stomach did a flip as you pushed the bucket of popcorn aside, trying to be subtle as your thoughts raced. You suddenly obsessed about how your thighs pressed together and your bra cut into the layer of excess fat in your back, all new discoveries in the past couple of months. Your mother had reminded you that being thin at eighteen would be harder than being thin at seventeen—you’d locked yourself in your bathroom to cry for the better part of your birthday after stepping on the scale.
Eddie didn’t seem to notice your turmoil, methodically chewing as though everything was fine. Of course he wouldn’t notice, he didn’t understand the intricacies of girlhood that made your skin feel too tight. You fluffed your sweater out, suddenly self-conscious about what areas of your body it was snug against.
Robin would help you find a costume.
—
The high socks squeezed just above your knees as you made your way up to the front door, red skirt swishing around the middles of your plush thighs with each step. You took a deep breath, a wave of heat and sound rolling over you as you opened the door. There were people in a variety of costumes everywhere inside. A few classmates nodded at you in acknowledgment as you shut the door and stepped into the humid living room, quickly turning their attention back to their friends.
Where was Eddie? You did a once over of the room, scanning the edges of the dance floor for the shaggy-haired boy. The couches had all been pushed out of the way to make space for a makeshift dance floor, the stereo in the corner booming Cyndi Lauper. It was a miracle that it couldn’t be heard outside.
The clusters of people spilled into the kitchen. There was limited space to weave through the crowd, you kept whispering apologies as you made your way to the other room. Upon entering, you were handed a cup of red punch from a boy you vaguely knew from English. You offered him a smile, a nod in his direction as you raised the cup to your lips.
You wrinkled your nose as you took a sip, it was strong.
There were no traces of Eddie anywhere. The room was filled with Indiana Joneses and Maddonas and Ghostbusters and Flashdance characters. No curly-headed metalheads in sight, though. Eddie didn’t seem like someone who would wear a Halloween costume, not for a party he was planning on dealing at.
You leaned against the breakfast counter lazily, watching the people on the dance floor bump into one another. The plastic cup stuck to your fingers as you gulped down the rest of the drink, grimacing at the after taste of vodka. You traced the edges of the porcelain tiles as you took up your place as a designated wallflower.
You downed four more cups of the punch before you got restless, deciding to investigate the rest of the party before accepting defeat. Your feet shuffled in slow motion as you approached the sliding glass door on the other end of the room. It was open, allowing teens to trickle outside and spread across the dark backyard.
The smell of cigarettes and weed wafted through the door as the autumn breeze picked it up, sparking a small flame of hope that your best friend was outside.
You tripped on the door track as you stepped into the much cooler night, steadying yourself and your sloshing drink against the doorframe before looking up. There were a few groups outside, most nursing drinks or joints or cigarettes and murmuring to one another. The music coming from the living room was so faint that you could barely make out the lyrics.
“Hey, Velma!” Your head slowly turned towards the voice, your lips buzzing as the alcohol settled in. Eddie was illuminated by the soft light diffused by the curtains in the kitchen window. He sat at a metal table with his trusty lunch box, head cocked slightly to the side as he absorbed your costume. You realized he was wearing a dark green “Corroded Coffin” t-shirt under his leather jacket and dark jeans, meaning you vaguely matched.
If you squinted, or drank too much.
You fell into the chair next to him with an oof!, crossing your legs at the ankles as you leaned back. Your head lolled back to rest on the weathered cushion as a breathy laugh escaped your throat. “We match,” you said, looking at how the stars were swirling in the sky. Your breaths were heavy as you waited for the world to still, a smile stretching its way across your face regardless.
“I didn’t know you were gonna come in costume, princess,” Eddie laughed, busily rolling joints to keep his hands occupied. You placed the sticky plastic cup on the table before stretching your arms out in front of you. Your gaze traced the wide cable-knit of the orange sweater, wiggling your fingers as you contemplated.
Self-consciousness reared its ugly head, making you sit up and lean closer to the brunette. “Do I look bad?” you whispered, fingertips finding the edge of your skirt. Your eyes were wide as he paused to study you, a soft grin breaking out on his face. You waited for his judgment, fiddling with anything in your reach before landing on braiding a thin strip of your hair.
“You look great,” he assured. There was a beat of silence, your heads still bent together conspiratorially. Eddie looked like he was thinking, his tongue licked his bottom lip. “You should’ve told me you were gonna dress up, I would’ve done it with you.”
“You already look like you did, Shaggy,” you murmured with a sly half smile, taking another drink as you settled back into the metal chair. Eddie grinned, glancing down at his own outfit.
Everything got all fuzzy on the edges as you finished the red liquid in your cup, joking with Eddie between drug deals. The basketball players who came by barely looked at you, only sparing glances as Eddie overcharged them for weed.
He didn’t notice the cold shoulders, or he at least pretended not to, making fun of their costume choices as soon as they walked away. You pretended like they didn’t bother you. It felt strange to be at one of these parties after everything that happened with Billy, you’d never felt more invisible.
But Eddie saw you, his brown eyes drifting to you more often than usual. You couldn’t tell if it was just because he was worried about how much you were drinking. You found yourself liking the way he talked, hands waving wildly as his voice slid into different impersonations of the people around you. He was always so genuinely Eddie, you wondered what it would feel like to be like that.
“I’m gonna grab another drink,” you said as Eddie’s attention was pulled away by a group of juniors with wide eyes and crumpled dollar bills. He gave you a thumbs up as he rifled through the contents of his stash.
You swayed a bit as you stood, your grip on the plastic cup crumpling it slightly. The juniors eyed you as you walked around the edge of their little group, Eddie’s voice spitting out prices calling their attention back to him.
Armed with a deep breath to ground yourself, you shouldered your way back into the house. There were even more people than before. With no room to move properly, you jammed yourself into the throng of people that were making their way to the kitchen. Despite how many people were here there was surprisingly still plenty to drink.
You had never known Chelsea to be so generous, at least not during your short-lived friendship.
You stopped in front of the punch bowl, staring at your wobbling reflection in the liquid as you filled your cup with the ladle. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you hardly recognized yourself. The proportions of your face were so different than when you primped and prepped in the mirror, your gaze felt less harsh as you stared at the girl in the punch bowl. You could feel the heat radiating off your cheeks as you glared at the rose-colored image of yourself, wondering what you actually looked like.
A hand clasped your shoulder, an anchor back to reality. You pivoted on your heel, thinking that Eddie had come to talk to you about something, maybe ready to leave and go find somewhere to park and talk and listen to music.
Your face fell when you recognized Jason Carver’s blue eyes.
It had been ages since Jason had so much as talked to you. He used to follow Billy around like a puppy, hoping that it would make him the captain of the basketball team after graduation. Of course, Billy had treated Jason like the rest of you, rewarding his neediness with a cold shoulder.
“You know, Billy would be so disappointed if he was still here.” Jason may as well have spit on you. You stepped back, your spine pressing into the chilly counter as you tried to put some space between you. His eyes had a hard time settling, staring you up and down as you tried to remain still under his gaze. “He probably wouldn’t even recognize you, especially now that you’re hanging out with the losers.”
You scowled, rage making your throat tighten. “He didn’t even like you, Jason.” Blonde eyebrows rose in surprise. “I’m sure he’s rolling in his grave knowing that the pathetic Jesus kid who would’ve blown him if he asked is in charge of the basketball team.”
You were getting a little too loud, the people standing nearest to you were turning their heads to see what the commotion was about. Jason evaluated the crowd before grabbing your wrist, a sick smile spreading across his face. “I think you’ve had enough.” There was a threatening edge to his voice as he leaned to whisper in your ear.
You strained against him, the punch sloshing over the edges of the cup and down your fingers. Droplets flecked onto his yellow Teen Wolf costume like blood. Panic started to creep up your throat, the reminder that none of the other people at the party were going to help you made your blood run cold.
“Jason, stop,” you muttered, your voice thick. More punch slid down your hand as you tried to tug yourself from his grip. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you attempted to find a way out. “Let me go.”
He squeezed your wrist even tighter as hot tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and rolled down your cheeks. You were sure long lines of mascara were left behind, you couldn’t even move your free hand to wipe them away. Fear paralyzed you as the pounding of the music filled every space in your mind. Your mind whirred uselessly, so caught off guard by the aggression that you hardly knew how to respond.
A ringed hand wrapped around Jason’s forearm; you flinched at the sudden intrusion. Eddie was bristling next to you, squeezing the jock’s arm until he let you go. You pulled your wrist back to your chest, your brows knitting together as your lips fell into a pout.
The metalhead pushed his lunchbox into your stomach, his eyes dark as they scoured your face. “How about you go wait in the van, princess? The keys are inside the box,” he murmured, his expression leaving no room for protest. You hesitated a moment, causing him to jerk his chin smoothly toward the front door. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, his jaw set.
Suddenly shy, you dropped your gaze to the floor. Everything was swimming around you, the party too loud and the room too hot and your hands were so sticky with punch. You’d never felt more overwhelmed.
Nodding once, you gripped the handle of the lunchbox for dear life as you scurried out of the house. By the time the night air hit you, you realized you were still holding the cup, most of it empty as it coated your hand and stained the skin. You choked back the rest of its contents, crumpling it in your hand and tossing it into the grass. Eddie’s van was parked across the street, looking out of place amongst the other cars.
–
You were almost asleep in the passenger seat by the time Eddie threw the door open, scaring you into waking up. He was obscured by the lights of the house behind him as he climbed inside. “Eddie, what happened?” you croaked as he tried to jam the keys into the ignition, his hands practically vibrating.
You gasped as he turned to look in the center console. His right eyebrow was caked entirely with blood, a gash splitting it nearly in two. Blood was smeared in a trail down his face, following the curve of his nostril and making its way over his pale throat and to his shirt collar. He plucked a cigarette carton out of the glove box, the streetlamp illuminating the smears of blood across his pale fingers. His knuckles were blown apart.
“Eddie,” you murmured, reaching across the center console hesitantly. He still didn’t look at you, rummaging around for his zippo. The house beyond was relatively quiet, no signs of a party other than all the cars parked along the sidewalk. Jason walked into view of the upstairs bathroom window, glaring at the van before pulling down the shade. His face was smeared with blood, his costume ruffled.
The chains on Eddie’s jacket sleeve jingled as he lit the cigarette, taking a drag with a sigh. “Eddie.” You hesitated for a moment before you pressed your palm into the worn leather. You could feel the muscles in his shoulder jump under your fingertips–you rarely ever touched him. It just felt like a boundary the two of you never crossed. “Y-you didn’t have to do that,” you said.
The heater and the radio jumped to life, Dio blasting in the small space. Eddie’s brows furrowed as he turned to study your face. “Of course I had to,” his voice was surprisingly soft. His hand came out of nowhere, a warm thumb wiping your cheek. Your nerves must have been fried, because you leaned into his touch without thinking about it. “That idiot made you cry, couldn’t just let him get away with it.”
You pulled in a ragged breath, a bit surprised by the amount of tenderness in his voice. His hand was so warm, his fingers wiping away the lines of makeup that ran down your cheeks when you cried. Shaking fingers brought the cigarette back to his pink lips, you watched him take a drag and blow the smoke out of the corner of his mouth.
“Can we go?” you whispered, your voice hoarse as your throat tightened. It was all you could do to keep from crying, you didn’t even know why you wanted to cry this time.
He smiled, nodding as he pulled away from the curb like a maniac. His hand dropped from your face, turning the radio up until the heavy sound of a guitar riff was blasting through the speakers.
—
Apparently it was Wayne’s night off, so the trailer was off-limits for a late night sanctuary. That was how you ended up at the quarry, the side door pulled open as you and Eddie sprawled out in the back of the van. You’d guzzled a bottle of water as soon as you parked, already starting to feel like a bit of a human being again.
Eddie had cleaned up his face with the bandana he kept in his back pocket. The gash in his eyebrow looked painful, but he kept assuring you it was fine. He sat against the wall of the van as he wiped his knuckles, the largest one on his right hand slightly torn.
It was like once you all had crossed the barrier of touch, Eddie didn’t want to stop. He just kept touching you, be it a hand brushing against your arm or his leg jostling yours. It felt shockingly comfortable, making you wonder why you had been so resistant to touching him before.
“Those rings must not have felt nice,” you commented absentmindedly, laying on your stomach on the carpet as you watched him. Moonlight flooded in the van through the open door, glinting off the silver that adorned his fingers.
He smiled, flexing his hands as he looked down at them. “Carver didn’t seem too excited about them,” he murmured, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.
You’d cleaned most of the makeup off your face on the drive to the quarry using a baby wipe you kept in your purse. He hardly ever saw you with a clean face, the moonlight revealing a few blemishes on your skin. The urge to cover your cheeks still lingered, but it felt nice to have it off.
“Thanks for like, defending my honor and stuff,” you murmured, looking down at your chipped nail polish. “You really didn’t have to do that, Eddie.”
The idea that he would go out of his way to fight Jason Carver on your behalf was still hard for you to wrap your head around. Eddie loved to talk and bitch and complain about the basketball team and larger society regularly, but he wasn’t violent.
“I did.” His eyes searched yours, wide and honest as always. A joint found its way between his long fingers, he took a deep drag. You watched him through heavy eyelids as he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, he continued until he’d finished nearly half the joint. “I couldn’t just let him mess with you like that, not my girl.”
My girl. My girl. My girl. The phrase went off in your head like a bell. You didn’t know if he’d said it just because he was high or if he actually meant it like that. You wet your lips with your tongue, glancing at him for a moment.
“Well, thanks,” you breathed, twirling your fingers in a loose thread on one of the weaved blankets he kept in the back of the van. You had wrapped yourself in it on multiple occasions, mostly on cold nights when you were ungodly high. But tonight, alcohol thrummed through you like liquid fire.
Eddie finished the remainder of the joint on his own, his warm brown eyes tinged with pink as his smile stretched easier. There was a fluidity to him when he was stoned, his normally theatrical mannerisms mellowing out to something that seemed less like a performance and more genuine. His movements became more languid, his lanky form sprawling out on a half-deflated bean bag. His calf rested on top of your leg.
The cassette that was playing ended, the power chords fading into silence as you heard the player whir to a stop. The water lapping at the cliff face below and the breeze rustling the foliage outside the van seemed louder, indicative of the transition from fall to winter that was soon to come.
“You want to pick the next one?” Eddie asked, his voice soft and breathy like it always got when he was stoned. It was sweet of him to ask, considering you knew that he already had a playlist of what he wanted to put on next written out in his head. He was particular about music, always wanting to be in-control of what was playing no matter where you were.
You knew he meant for you to pick from his cassette collection.
“Yeah,” you answered, a smirk starting to spread on your face. You stood up, your feet digging into the shag carpet as you crouched to avoid hitting your head. “I’ve got a Madonna tape in my purse that I’ve been wanting to listen to.”
“Madonna?” You could hear the anguish in his voice as you stepped over his long legs to reach the front. There was an air of disbelief at your choice, Eddie couldn’t stand Madonna.
You laughed, nodding as you pulled the aforementioned tape from your bag and flashing it to Eddie. “You said I could pick,” you teased, hunkering down in front of the radio to exchange the cassettes. Stunned silence filled the space behind you as you waited for the Dio tape to be spit out, you tapped the Madonna cassette against your kneecap.
What at first was silence burst into a flurry of motion behind you.
Before you could react, Eddie’s hands locked around your waist from behind and elicited a squeal from your throat as he yanked you back. “I’m not listening to Madonna,” he said, twisting his body around yours to try to snatch the tape from your hand.
You scrambled, holding the cassette out of his reach and angling your shoulders to keep him away. “Eddie! You said I could pick!” you exclaimed with a peal of laughter, feeling the length of his body pressed against the back of yours. He pulled you close with a forearm curled around your waist, reaching over your shoulder.
“Yeah, you can pick from good music!” His chin bumped the top of your head as you both fell forward from losing your balance. The floor absorbed most of the impact, Eddie’s shoulder banging into the floorboards next to you. You let out a soft grunt as Eddie landed partially on top of you, pressing you into the carpet.
“This is good music,” you insisted, digging your elbow and knees into the thick carpet so you could shimmy forward. Eddie slammed an elbow in front of your shoulder, stopping any forward movement. There was no time to redirect as he melded you into his shadows, lanky limbs moving over where you were prone. His other hand curled around your wrist, so close to taking the tape. “You’re just judgmental!”
In a last ditch effort you twisted your arm from his grip, pulling your hand under your body and pressing the tape between your stomach and the rustled blanket. “You’re not being fair!” You were still giggling, Eddie stuffed his fingers between your forearm and your stomach in an attempt to follow the path of your arm.
“It’s my van, princess,” Eddie said with a breathy laugh of his own. He lifted himself off you, letting you breathe for a moment before his hands scooped beneath your shoulders and flipped you onto your back. “I can judge however I want to.”
You tried to push him away with your feet, matching smiles on your faces as he reached for you around the assault. With a shove your legs were out of the way, his torso settling between them with your knees on either side of his ribs. He leaned over you, managing to pry the tape from your hands and slide it into the pocket of his leather jacket.
You still had some fight in you, reaching for Eddie’s pocket before he grabbed your wrists and pressed them to the floor. “Eddie!” you whined, squirming in an attempt to throw him off.
He was smiling above you with all his teeth, the two of you panting as you stared at one another. The distance between you decreased, long fingers threading through yours as his head dipped lower. You were so close that you could practically count his eyelashes. Eddie scraped his teeth over his lower lip, a clear sign that he was about to ask you something. You nodded before he could, your heart pounding in your chest as you prayed that you weren’t reading into things.
When he pressed his lips against yours you knew you guessed right.
You sighed into it, your eyes fluttering closed as your mouth moulded to his. Butterflies had made a home in your stomach, part of you wondering when you started having feelings for Eddie. Why did it take you so long to do something about them?
His mouth was so soft, slotting against yours in clumsy open-mouthed kisses. You both were smiling, giggling nervously when your teeth clashed or noses bumped. It was as though you both were clumsy and new to this, the anxiety of wanting to impress making you forget how to relax for a moment. His hair tickled your cheeks and neck, curling wildly in every direction. You desperately wanted to thread your fingers into it, your hands flexing against his.
A strong gust of wind blew dried leaves into the open door of the van, the chill cutting through your clothes making the two of you pull away from one another with laughs. Eddie tugged the door closed in a quick motion, leaning back on a bean bag and patting the side of his thigh in a motion to come over there.
The moonlight was diffused through the windows on the sliding side doors, illuminating Eddie in a beautiful silver as you practically crawled on your hands and knees to him. You were a bit off-balance, partially falling against his chest. He chuckled, curling an arm around your back and pulling you closer with a wide hand pressed against the curve of your spine.
“Been waiting to kiss you like this for months,” Eddie murmured, his calloused fingers tracing along your cheek. You leaned into his touch, your hands resting on the soft Corroded Coffin shirt he wore.
“Yeah?” you asked, your eyes wide as you looked at him. Part of you didn’t want to believe him, you’d thought his taste in women leaned on either far-end of the Morticia Addams to Chrissy Cunningham spectrum. Maybe you were wrong, or at least you prayed that you were. When considering the Eddie Spectrum of eligible women, you were situated somewhere near the middle.
He nodded, stamping a quick kiss to your lips. “Of course, princess,” he said, his other hand coming to rest on the curve of your thigh. Goosebumps pricked along your skin, his fingertips tracing up and down the bare section of your leg between the skirt and high socks. “And you make a very cute, Velma.”
You rolled your eyes at the compliment, shrugging it off. “You don’t mean that,” you whispered, eyes cast down at the blood soaked into the collar of his shirt. Shyness consumed you, it had been a while since a guy had flirted with you like this.
Well, Eddie’s fingers drawing figure-eights on the outside of your thigh felt like a little more than flirting.
One of his eyebrows lifted, disappearing beneath his bangs as he looked at you. “I do mean it.” Before you could argue with him, he pulled you into another kiss.
It was enough to take your mind off of it, your head tilting up toward his as you twisted your body closer to him. Your hips turned, the handcuffs serving as his belt buckle digging into you through the thick fabric of your skirt. Thick thighs split apart over his knee, your spine curving on instinct.
Normally, you wouldn’t have considered the back of Eddie’s van to be romantic, but now there was nowhere else you would rather be.
Unable to think of much else, the kisses became messier. The sloppy smacks of your mouth against his made you giddy, fingers curling over his shoulders and keeping him close. His hand slipped under your sweater, palm pressing into your ribs like a brand. A submissive whimper was pulled from your throat, a dizzy feeling filling your head. You didn’t know if it was from the lack of oxygen or the alcohol you’d drank earlier.
Heat was pooling between your legs, making your thighs momentarily squeeze against his. The feeling of Eddie touching you made your insecurities about how your body had changed melt away, he didn’t seem to mind the softer parts of you as much as you did. Your hands traveled to his belt and traced the silver buckle of it, making Eddie pull away with a shake of his head. “Not tonight, baby,” he murmured, a sheepish smile curling his pink lips.
Despite the small part of your mind that was still rational, it felt like a slap to the face. You stiffened in his hold as you yanked your hands back like you’d touched a hot stove. “Oh, uh, sorry. I misunderstood,” you murmured, trying to tamp down the sting of rejection. You didn’t want him to feel bad, there wasn’t anything to feel guilty for.
Eddie snorted, shaking his head again. “Trust me, I want to,” he breathed, gently cupping your cheek. Something burned in his gaze. His thumb pressed into the corner of your spit-slicked lips, his chocolate brown eyes lingering for a moment. “Just don’t want to when you’re drunk, not in the back of my van.”
There was a sincerity in his tone that made you melt, rejection fading into yet another reason you felt like you were starting to fall head over heels for Eddie. “Okay, you’re right,” you said sweetly, turning your head to kiss the pad of his thumb.
“You want me to pick another tape?” The silence that had fallen over the van became noticeable.
He laughed, seemingly having forgotten what had gotten the two of you tangled together in the first place. “No Madonna in the van, those are the rules,” he said, his fingers caressing your jaw. “Even for pretty girls like you.”
“Oh shut up,” you sighed, your face heating up despite yourself. “You’re just trying to butter me up so I pick Metallica.”
Eddie snorted, the width of his shoulders squaring with confidence as he kept you in the space between his arm and torso. You could feel how warm he was. “You really think so?” he asked, the soft lilt of a tease in his voice.
“I wouldn’t put it past you.” It still felt like there was lightning between your ribs, electricity pooling at every juncture where you and Eddie touched.
“But, I was teasing you. It’s a Van Halen cassette… you would know that if you’d bothered to read it before you decided to wrestle me for it.” You stamped another kiss against the tip of his nose. He wrinkled it endearingly, making you smile.
“Well now I’m glad I didn’t.”
#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#reader insert#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson fluff#joseph quinn#eddie is a soft boy
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𝑬𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒏𝒔𝒇𝒘 𝒂𝒍𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒕
{ fem!reader }
~A/N: I used to see these all the time. I miss them, so I made one. It's was just a little fun thing to write.
18+ minors dni
𝑨= 𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 (𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚’𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒄𝒕)
Oh, Eddie's obsessed with aftercare. He loves giving it and receiving it. If he's been particularly rough with you. When you're done and satisfied. He'll hold you close until you're finally relaxed. "Need some water, sweetheart? " "how about a little snack?"
"Here, stay in my arms, and I'll hold you." "You did so well for me." He'll rock you and place gentle kisses all over your body.
If Eddie's the one getting the aftercare. He loves to have his hair played with. He wants to lay back in your arms and have you scratch his head. He adores praises, too. So you better flatter him. "Eddie, you were amazing tonight." "You were so good for me." He'll flatter you too, don't worry.
"Such a good girl taking all of that tonight."
"Look at you sweetheart you're beautiful."
"Such a good girl."
Baths and showers together. He loves washing you and cleaning you off. Or just sitting in the bathtub together, laughing with you.
𝑩= 𝑩𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 (𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔)
Eddie loves his hands. He loves the way they look when they're gripping onto you tight or wrapped around your throat. "You look so beautiful with my hand around that pretty neck of yours."
He likes he fingers too. He loves using them as a gag for you or pumping them in and out of you fast or slow. "You like my fingers, baby?"You like how they make you feel, huh?" "Think you can take a third?"
His favorite body part(s) of yours are.
Firstly, he loves your body and everything about it. His favorite things are your lip. He can't get enough of them when they're kissing him all over or they're wrapped around his cock. "Your lips are so soft God I can't wait to feel them on my cock later."
He also loves your thighs too. Smacking them or gripping them tight. Eddie particularly enjoys holding onto your love handles. He thinks they are the sexiest thing on anyone. His hands holding on while you ride him really drives him crazy.
𝑪= 𝑪𝒖𝒎 (𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒕)
He's loves it. He loves to get cum on himself or on you. He likes to get it all over your tits or ass. You noticed he really, really likes cuming inside you, too."Want me to fill you up? Hmm?"
He'll cum literally anywhere on your body. You just tell him where, and he's giving it all to you. No hesitations. "Where do you want it, sweetheart?" He's either stroking his cock or pulling out asking you where he can spill it out on your body. He'll cum on your tongue and make you stick it out so he can see. "You like the way i taste don't you?"
𝑫= 𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 (𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚)
He has lots of photos stashed of you in his bedside table. He really doesn't keep secrets from you, though. You know about the photos. He's an open book with you. He trusts you so much. there isn't anything you don't know about him.
𝑬= 𝑬𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 (𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚’𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈)
He knows what he's doing. He does tend to get nervous sometimes. Which comes off like he doesn't know what he's doing at first. When you began dating, he had so much anxiety about it. He didn't want to disappoint you.
Eddie wanted to make a good impression, but he overthinks. Your first time together was very good whether he wanted to remember it that way or not. He would constantly check in with you asking or saying, "Is this good?" "Are you feeling good?" "How do you like it?"I only care about you right now."
You had to reassure him for a little bit that he was doing a good job making you feel good. He lightened up and just focused on your pleasure first. Once you both got to know each other more, he was more laid back and relaxed when it came to sex.
𝑭= 𝑭𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏
Eddie has lots. There isn't a position he hasn't had you in that he didn't like. His all-time favorite would be between missionary with your thighs pressed to your chest. He can be so much deeper that way and have so much control over you. The other would have to be reverse cowgirl. He gets all the enjoyment of gripping your hips if he wants. He loves watching you ride him and staring at your ass. But the thing about this position that really gets him going is watching you bouncing on his cock. He loves watching himself inside of you. Those cute little whimpers you make when his cock spreads you open. He could cum on the spot just from that.
𝑮= 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒇𝒚 (𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚)
Eddie is literally the goofiest guy you've been with. The first time you had sex you were also nervous. He did what he does best and tried to make you laugh. The moment he buried himself inside of you. he was trying to be funny and ease your nerves. "Come here often?" You both snorted and went into a fit of giggles. He was a nervous wreck more so than you were you.
He's still goofy sometimes during sex. He has the ability to go from rough and hard to whispering a joke seductively in your ear. Eddie appreciates the fun silly side of sex. If your bodies make a funny noise best, believe he'll laugh about it. Sex is supposed to be fun. It's not supposed to be this serious thing all the time.
One time, he got a cramp as he was taking you from behind, and he fell down. Instead of him getting embarrassed, he just laughed and stayed lying down on the floor. "Eddie, are you okay?" "Yeah never better. Why do you ask?"
Giggly sex was your favorite with him. You've even had to stop in the middle of it because you're both laughing so hard at something he did or said.
𝑯= 𝑯𝒂𝒊𝒓 (𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒔)
Eddie doesn't groom too much because he's not an extremely hair guy. He'll give himself a little trim up, but other than that, he doesn't really do anything else.
𝑰= 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒄𝒚 (𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉/𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚)
Eddie loves you. He loves you deeply. He's a very romantic guy at heart.
He's all of it. He's rough/dirty and romantic. He enjoys watching your face when he takes you. During those nights when he wants to get romantic. He likes to set the mood. He puts your scarves over his lamps to give the room a nice glow. He's running his fingers along every curve of your body.
He's touching, caressing, licking, and kissing every inch of you. He'll give you a nice massage with oil. He prefers the edible kind because no matter what he his lips are on you. You felt so wanted and desired by him.
He'll nibble on your neck and whisper in your ear. You told him in passing your lower back is very sensitive, so he pays special attention to that. Kneading and pressing on it carefully, then rubbing his hands all over it.
In his rougher moods, he likes to place his hands on your neck, squeezing it gently. He likes to spank you and overstimulate you to the point that you have tears running down your face. He'll cuff you to his bed. Maybe do some face slapping, but nothing too hard. He doesn't want to actually hurt your pretty face. He'll put you in different positions himself. He enjoys pulling your hair.
𝑱= 𝑱𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒇𝒇 (𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒏)
He used to do it all the time before he met you. Every once in a while, he'll touch himself occasionally. Having alone time and just making yourself feel good is important. He'll mainly do it in the shower so there is less of a clean-up. You do like watching him stroking himself too. On nights, if you're sleeping and he wakes up horny he'll carefully stroke his cock. Eddie will try to see if you're up before doing it. Just in case. But the minute he hears that tired grown of yours, he's leaving you alone.
𝑲= 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒌 (𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒚 𝒖𝒏𝒖𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍)
Eddie has lots of them. They're tame for the most part.
Daddy kink for sure, but he also likes it when you call him, sir. It just depends on his mood.
Breeding kink
Role-playing (he likes to dress up. ghostface? He likes it when you dress up for him. A naughty damsel in distress is his favorite.)
Voyeurism
Praise kink
Choking
Spanking (giving and receiving)
𝑳= 𝑳𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 (𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒏)
He'll fuck you pretty much anywhere but he prefers his bedroom. He's got all of the fun stuff stashed away in there.
𝑴= 𝑴𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 (𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌/𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒐𝒏𝒔)
Everything about you.
Literally, you don't have to do much of anything, and he wants you. If we're getting specific. What turns him on is just seeing you lounging around in your panties with a t-shirt on. There is something about seeing you comfortable like that, that makes him want to take you immediately. also, you take the time to learn about his hobbies. There is just something about you reading up on DnD or his favorite metal bands. You remembered one night you vaguely mentioned something about lord of the rings. He was on you instantly.
𝑵= 𝑵𝒐 (𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒅𝒐)
Eddie used to like the idea of threesomes. He tried it out with an ex of his, and it was a disaster. That's how he found out he hated sharing. The thought of sharing you already makes his blood boil. Count out threesomes. That's a big NO.
Eddie's a jealous guy. He wouldn't like seeing some other person touching you and making you moan the same way he does.
Anything that makes you uncomfortable. The second he sees any type of hesitation, he's not doing it. He'll never pressure you into trying something only because he's curious about it.
𝑶= 𝑶𝒓𝒂𝒍 (𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒓 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆)
Loves both. He loves giving and receiving. The way you look gagging on his cock when it hits the back of your throat. Your eyes all teary and mascara running down your cheeks. "You're so pretty with my cock stuffed down your throat baby."
Eddie loves giving, too. He can do it for hours if let him. He'll hook your legs over his shoulders and use his mouth and tongue on you until you're begging him to stop. "Fuck baby you taste so sweet." He'll constantly compliment you too while he's doing it.
𝑷= 𝑷𝒂𝒄𝒆 (𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒅)
It really just depends on how pent-up he is that day. He likes to go fast and slow.
To be honest, it all about how you want it. If you're begging him to go faster, then he's picking up the pace. If you want him to slow it down, then he's doing just that. There are some nights where he wants to be rough, so he's slamming into you hard. Then there are other nights when he's taking it nice and slow. Keeping the mood very passionate and sensual.
He can last for a really, really long time, or he's giving you a solid ten minutes. But count on the four play to go on for a long while.
𝑸= 𝑸𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒆 (𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅)
Yeah he's that guy pulling you into the nearest closet or empty room for a quick fuck. At parties especially. There was one time you were all out with friends, and a guy was checking you out. Eddie pulled you into the nearest closet to start pounding into you hard and fast. He'll spit on his hand and rub on his cock to get you nice and ready for him. "Don't worry, baby, I'm just reminding you who you belong to." "Now bend over."
𝑹= 𝑹𝒊𝒔𝒌 (𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔)
Always, but he's not gonna spring anything on you out of the blue. He'll mention it in passing or when you're both just sitting around. He wants to see your reaction, and then he'll go from there. If you're hesitant at first, he'll drop it. But if you bring it back up to him. Showing that you're very, very sure about trying whatever it is, he's curious about. Then he's going to be so good to you.
𝑺= 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂 (𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔)
This all just really depends on how worked up he is and how much sleep he's been getting. He can go multiple rounds in between some resting. Each round, the time varies, but he's not stopping until you're unable to walk.
𝑻= 𝑻𝒐𝒚𝒔 (𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒆𝒙 𝒕𝒐𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔)
Eddie loves toys. He buys them for himself and you all the time. He favorite thing to do is use a vibrator on you while he's inside of you. But he also likes it when you use toys on him too. He likes to be overstimulated and edges with your vibrator on its highest setting. running it along his cock and sensitive tip.
𝑼= 𝑼𝒏𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓 (𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒔𝒖𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔)
Eddie is a tease, but he hates to be teased. He'll constantly give you little light touches and whisper dirty things in your ear. "I bet you want my cock right now don't you?" Or "You wanna cum huh? Gotta beg me, first sweetheart. " His grin gives it away if he's in the mood to tease you. He'll run his hands close to the areas you want the most attention. His finger tips tracing little shapes in your skin. He knows what he's doing. He wants to get you all frustrated and frustrated. Just don't do that to him.
𝑽= 𝑽𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒆 (𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅, 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌)
Oh, he's loud. Eddie is very vocal. He moans, and he grunts, but also whimpers a lot, too. He talks a lot during four play. He likes to taunt you during that time. He does prefer to check in with you to ask if you're feeling good. He's always been that way, and you greatly appreciate it. He's louder than you now that you think about it. You remember a neighbor banging on your front door because Eddie was being too loud. The poor guy thought he was getting attacked.
𝑾= 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒅 (𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒕)
Eddie loves attention and gets off to the thought of others watching him. Maybe touching himself or using a toy.
Eddie wants to get you pregnant one day. That's where his breeding kink comes into play. He wants to pump you full of his cum all the time.
Loves phone sex. He likes to talk, and the thought of getting you off with just his voice alone turns him on so much.
Likes chasing you around and pinning you down underneath him, but also likes it when he gets pinned down. He's stronger than you, but it turns him on so much when he lets you over power him.
𝑿= 𝑿-𝒓𝒂𝒚 (𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒎 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔)
I'd say he's pretty average, maybe a little bigger than average. He's thick, though. I like to think he's uncut. He likes to mock you if you're struggling to it all.
𝒀= 𝒀𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 (𝒔𝒆𝒙𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒍)
Eddie has a pretty high sex drive. If he's not thinking about sex. He's definitely having sex with you.
The little soft touches and intertwining his fingers with yours as he slowly pushes inside you. Hearing you cry out for him to take you harder. Holding you in his arms afterward. It's what makes his sexdrive so high. The thought of just bringing you so much pleasure and having you open up to him is what he looks forward to. You got this man yearning for you 24/7.
𝒁= 𝒁𝒛𝒛𝒛 (𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒇 𝒔𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓)
He naturally has lots of energy. You're the one who passes out after. Most of the time, he's up and ready to do something else. He likes playing his guitar after while you sleep. In the off chance he actually does fall asleep, it's only because you two have been at it for hours and hours. He likes to be the big spoon when you're cuddling after. He'll let you be the little spoon on occasion. "Alright, sweetheart, you can the big spoon tonight." He prefers to keep you close with a hand holding one of your tits. Other than that, he's wide awake, letting you get plenty of rest.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#joseph quinn#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie x reader#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson reader insert#eddie munson headcanons#scheduled post
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Posters on the Wall | E.M. x Reader
MASTERLIST
Summary: Your bedroom is covered in posters of your celebrity crush; Kirk Hammett. It's not until Steve points it out that you notice a... similarity to another metalhead you know.
Smut, afab reader, PWP
Warnings: Daddy kink, spanking, degradation, name calling (slut, whore, bitch), slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, fingering (f rec), penetrative sex, creampie, slight praise kink.
5.1K words
18+ MINORS DNI
Your best friend Steve had been in your room many times before. There were no new posters, no new knick-knacks, which is why it was strange he suddenly seemed so darn interested in them. "You know..." He started, putting one hand on his hip and the other on his chin. Oh god, this can't be good.
"You really have a type. Have you ever noticed?" He motioned to a couple of posters on your wall. They were primarily of popular metal and rock bands, but there were some solo posters of members you were crushing on. Kind of. Mainly Kirk from Metallica, but who could blame you? Kirk was 21 when he joined the band in 1983 and had the perfect looks and talent for you to swoon over. He was your favourite.
"What do you mean? A type?" You questioned, putting quotation marks around the 'type'. Steve laughed and pointed at a poster of Kirk that was hung right above your bed. "You don't see it?" He asked, eyebrows raised. You shook your head and shrugged.
"These guys look an awful lot like someone we know, don't you think?" Steve gestured at a cluster of pictures on your wall. Amongst the photos of musicians and actors, there were a few strewn about of your friends. "I still don't get it, Steve." You sighed as you glanced at the picture of Robin, Eddie and you that Steve had pointed at last.
"You're genuinely telling me that your lady-boner for Mr Hammett here has nothing to do with your crush on Mr Munson?" Steve scoffed. Your jaw dropped as you turned to glare at him.
"I do not have a crush on Eddie! Are you insinuating Kirk looks like him? That's what you were getting at?" You crossed your arms defensively. Your brows furrowed as you thought it through. Kirk and Eddie didn't look alike, did they? Steve could practically see the cogs turning in your head. He knew he was digging up an unspoken topic; your feelings for Eddie.
He didn't know what happened that night in the Upside Down. Nobody did, except Dustin, Eddie and you. The three of you refused to talk about it. Steve and Robin had discussed it and decided it must've been insanely traumatic. Hell, Eddie had almost died. Almost. Everybody had made assumptions about how you felt, but that incident settled it. You were in love with him, whether you knew it or not. You couldn't not be, not with the way you looked at him after that.
You shrugged it off and tried to ignore Steve's insinuation. He trotted down the stairs as you collected your things to head over to Eddie's trailer. Your eyes fell on the poster of Kirk hung above your bed, followed by the picture of Eddie and you on your bedside table. Maybe they did look kind of similar? You sighed as you shook your head at the idea. You closed the door behind you and followed Steve down the stairs and out the front door.
The drive to Forrest Hills was strangely muted. Steve informed you Nancy had had to cancel, but otherwise, it was silent. You'd picked up Robin along the way. As usual, she immediately started chattering your ears off, breaking the silence. Steve pulled up and parked next to Eddie's van.
The man of the hour was already stood in the doorway, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the doorframe. You didn't get to do this often; hang without the kids. You enjoyed their presence, but now and then you needed this. You think you all did.
Eddie invited you in, and you settled on the couch with Robin and Steve. Eddie prepared some drinks and snacks on a tray and balanced it on his hands as he took it to the living room, a bag of chips clamped between his teeth. He set everything on the table and clapped his hands, waving them in the general direction of the cups. "Self-service, ladies and gentleman."
The night was relaxed, consisting of just games and fun chatter. When Robin finally brought up the topic of celebrity look-alikes, you glared daggers at a snickering Steve.
"I mean, it has to be Swayze, right? Eddie argued. You had been first, followed by Robin. Nobody could agree on which celeb looked like Steve, though.
Robin shook her head in disagreement. "It's Rob Lowe, I'm telling you." Steve scoffed. "So I just look like I should play in Youngblood? Because that's what I'm hearing. I don't even like hockey. Besides, Hargrove looks way more like Rob Lowe than I do."
You ended up agreeing that, yes, Steve just looked like he belonged between the generic heartthrobs.
When Eddie came up, Steve remained exceptionally hushed with a mischievous look threatening to spread across his face. You and Robin named a couple of famous actors and musicians before she turned to you and hit you on the shoulder repeatedly.
"Oh! That guy you had the wet dream about last week! The Metallica one on all those posters in your room!" Robin looked like she'd solved string theory as your face turned red. "Robin!" You whisper-shouted in a horrified tone, putting a hand over your face in embarrassment.
"It's Kirk Hammett," Steve spoke up.
"Yes! Thank you! You look like Kirk Hammett!" Robin exclaimed. You loved her, but God, did you want her to shut up like three sentences ago. Did she not hear what she was insinuating? That you’d had a wet dream about an Eddie look-alike? You wanted the couch to swallow you whole.
Eddie’s expression was illegible as he turned to Steve. “You know Metallica members, Harrington?”
“Just the one. I guess you’ve never been in that bedroom because you definitely would've remembered. The guy is everywhere. It’s kinda creepy, actually. Can’t change in there, feel watched.” Steve shuddered at the thought.
“Well, I guess I do see a similarity. I think it’s mainly the hair, though.” Eddie smirked smugly as he leaned back in the chair.
The discussion changed to one about hair, Steve’s to be precise. Yet you kept feeling Eddie’s gaze on you. You sighed as you reached for a chip and turned to Robin when the boys were busy discussing shampoo. “You couldn’t just have named anyone else?”
Robin shrugged. “They look alike. I don’t know what you want me to say.” She stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth.
You watched Eddie as he playfully argued with Steve. The scar on his jaw was slowly fading, becoming less prominent. You guess he did kind of resemble Kirk if you squinted. You could admit Eddie was a handsome guy. Was Steve right? Did you have a crush on Eddie?
You imagined yourself with Eddie on a lazy Sunday morning. Sleeping in, making breakfast, arms wrapping around you as a kiss was planted on your cheek. Heat rose to your face when you realized that was definitely something you could see in your near future.
You tried imagining the same scenario with Steve, and although he too was handsome, the image wasn't accompanied by the same warm, longing feeling. Did you have feelings for Eddie?
Steve and Eddie immediately noticed your flustered expression. Eddie was merely curious, giving you those big questioning puppy eyes. Steve, however, seemed to have caught on. The knowing smirk as he glanced at Eddie before raising his eyebrows at you told you enough. His body language screamed ‘I told you so.’
You really, really wished you could control thought processes. While the domestic scene was adorable, your mind flashed back to Robin’s words and the implication they’d made. You’d told her about the dream in confidence. You hadn’t gone into detail, but she’d heard enough. Clearly, it had stuck.
And now you were stuck. The imagery of that night returned, but the hands trailing under your shirt were clad in familiar rings. The top you took off was suddenly one you recognized all too well. The chest your fingers traced was now adorned with tattoos and scars, the sight of which you were well acquainted with.
Dream-Kirk had morphed into Dream-Eddie, and your breathing quickened when you realized the new mental images had you clenching your thighs, wetter than you had ever been. Was your superficial crush on the guitarist just a projection of your feelings for Eddie?
Eddie had been observing you while he talked with Steve and Robin. You were being uncharacteristically quiet. He noticed the occasional flush of your cheeks and pressing of your legs. You were lost in thought, drink untouched in your hand. He turned to offer you some chips or anything else to your liking.
"Sex?" You were startled as Eddie spoke to you directly. You nearly dropped your drink as your jaw dropped in shock. "What?"
"I asked if you wanted some snacks. Where's your head at?" Eddie raised his eyebrows teasingly. The ghost of a smirk danced on his lips as he watched you squirm and scold yourself. Where was your head at?
"Yeah, sorry, thanks. Guess I'm just a little... distracted today." You sighed as you took the chips from him. You munched on them silently as you sat there mortified. Of course, he didn't just fucking turn to you and ask you for sex.
"What's on your mind?" Eddie asked. You shook your head and chuckled. You glanced at Steve and Robin, who were lost in conversation. "Just, earlier..." You trailed off. Why you were even being honest, you didn't know.
"Oh, I can totally catch you up on which hair products Harrington uses. Apparently, it's this Farah Fawcett hairspray he— Hey! Ow!" He exclaimed in pain when you hit his shoulder.
"You know that's not what I meant, Eddie!" You muttered loudly.
"Hey, I was just giving you an out if you didn't want to breach the whole 'wet dream about my look-alike' topic." He laughed. You sighed as you looked up at him, your thighs involuntarily clenching at his expression. You weren't sure what he was thinking. His eyes darted to your thighs as he took his bottom lip between his teeth.
Your trance was broken by Robin clearing her throat. "It's getting late, your uncle is probably coming home soon, and I don't want to bother him. Should we go?" Steve nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, I guess that's probably for the best." Eddie put his hands on his thighs as he pushed himself out of the chair. "C'mon, I'll drive you guys home." He motioned to Robin and you.
"No, that's okay. I'll take Robin. We live close anyways." Steve smiled. He openly winked at you as he said it. Bastard. Eddie neglected the fact that you lived closer to Robin than Steve did and agreed to be the one to take you home. Perhaps it was time you had a grown-up conversation with him about how you were feeling.
You got in the passenger seat and watched Steve and Robin drive off. An energy you were unfamiliar with filled the van. Tension, maybe? Mutual anticipation? You didn't dare turn to Eddie or open your mouth, afraid of what would happen if you did.
He started the van quietly. You watched as his right hand gripped the gear tightly, knuckles turning white. The left was holding the steering wheel for dear life. You'd hoped the grumbling engine would've broken the suspense hanging in the air, but it did no such thing.
You were almost convinced you'd been imagining things. That Eddie didn't feel what you did. That his breathing wasn't actually any different than usual. That he wasn't being weirdly distant. But all your worries were resolved when his right hand slowly found its way onto your thigh. The strained gasp that left your mouth shouldn't have been as relieved, as suggestive as it was.
"Tell me about the dream." Eddie finally broke the silence. You didn't know his grip on the wheel could tighten even more, but it did. The hand on your thigh was gentle in comparison, fingers tracing circles on the inside that had shivers going up your spine.
"I'm not sure I want to." You confessed quietly, looking out the window.
"Look at me when I talk to you, princess." Your eyes widened at the nickname. His voice had a tone you'd never heard from him before. "C'mon, tell me."
You hesitated, opening and closing your mouth a couple of times. You didn't know where to start. "I guess it starts at a concert. And yo-he's playing the guitar. And I guess that's kinda... hot? And then the concert ends and we... y'know?"
Eddie chuckled at your reluctance. "Shit, I'm gonna need a bit more than that, sweetheart." He squeezed your thigh as he spoke, rubbing it a bit to encourage you to keep talking.
"It's nothing special, really. Just some making out and shit." You huffed, not wanting to go into detail. You tried to recall the dream as vividly as possible, and you were starting to doubt if it had ever even been about Kirk, or if it had been Eddie all along and you'd just convinced yourself it hadn't been. No matter, all the images were of Eddie now. They were consuming you slowly.
"If it's just the thought of making out with me that's been getting you so hot and bothered all night, I can't wait to find out what happens when we actually do, baby." Eddie's hand crept higher and higher up your thigh, eyes never leaving the road.
"It wasn't about you, Eddie." You scoffed. Your gaze was fixated on his profile, but he didn't let up.
"As long as you've got yourself convinced." His smile was mocking you when he finally made eye contact. Your eyebrows furrowed.
"What's that supposed to mean?" You questioned. Were you really that transparent all evening?
"It means you're soaked, sweetheart. And have been since you got the thought of me stuck in your head earlier." He said it like it was the most obvious fact in the world. Like he told you the sky was blue, and the grass was green. A whimper left your throat when his finger traced the hem of your panties. How hadn't you noticed his hand coming up again?
"That's right, baby. Feel what I do to you? What the thought of me does to your pussy?" He stroked you through the dampened fabric. There were no longer any words coming from you, just sounds.
You mustered as much willpower as you could and spoke. "Eyes on the road, Munson." It was meant to sound confident, but Eddie knew he had you right where he wanted. Wet and desperate.
"I'm doing fine over here. It's you we should be worried about. Are you still breathing? Or have you just completely given up on all human function?" His chuckle was dark. Who was this person, and what had he done to sweet, loving Eddie? He was ridiculing you, and you were eating it up. How did he know which buttons to press so damn well?
"I'm breathing." You mumbled. Eddie snickered and shook his head. "More like hyperventilating. Speak up." Eddie finally stopped rubbing your clothed cunt to shift the gear and park his van by your house. You hadn't even noticed you'd arrived.
Eddie clicked and undid your seatbelt and motioned for you to get out of the car. You opened the door and put your feet on the gravel, knees weaker than you'd expected. The cold breeze blowing through the trees made goosebumps appear all over your body.
You walked to the door and unlocked it, not checking if Eddie followed you inside. You knew he never intended on just driving you home. He was coming inside.
You walked up the stairs and heard the front door close and lock. Eddie caught up to you and slapped your ass as you walked towards your room. “Nice house. Can’t believe I’ve never been here.” He mumbled as he walked up the stairs.
As soon as the door to your bedroom was opened, Eddie closed in on you. His hands found their way to your hips as he pulled you close. He looked around the room for a little and smirked. There were a lot of posters here.
He pulled you close and put a hand on your chin, tilting your face to his and kissing you softly. Even when he felt like ravaging you, he wanted your first kiss with him to be good, memorable. He felt you melt into his touch, relief washing over you when you finally got to put your lips against his.
When he pulled away, a whimper nearly left you. You managed to hold it in, but your anguished expression was obvious. “Now that that’s out of the way…” Eddie sighed as he towered over you and walked closer, making you walk back towards the wall.
He pushed you against the wall harshly, pressing his lips to your neck. "I understand what Harrington was getting at, now. Totally feel watched in here. Kinda hot, not gonna lie." He laughed as he pried your legs apart with his knee. He could feel the heat radiating from you as he pushed his knee against your cunt. "You into that kinda thing, baby? Maybe next time I'll take you somewhere with real people. Give 'em a little show."
You moaned as he sucked a bruise onto your neck. "You'd love that, wouldn't you? You're a filthy little slut who likes being watched." His hand shot up your shirt and groped your clothed breast roughly, pressing his lips to yours once more. The knee between your legs was torturing you, never quite giving the right amount of pressure or friction. You tried to grind down to seek it, but Eddie's hands went to your hips and stilled them instantly.
"Nu-uh, sweetheart. Only I get to play with your pussy. It's mine now, isn't it?" His kisses had stopped as he observed your expression, trying to read how far he could push it. You nodded wildly, silently pleading for him to continue. "Yes! All yours!" You whined and tried to pull him back into you.
Eddie grinned at your desperation, bringing his knee up just once to watch you keen. You tried to grind your hips down again but huffed in frustration as he held you in place. He reached for your arms, putting them above your head. He undressed you with ease, only leaving you in your bra and panties. "You look fantastic, sweetheart."
"Thank you, daddy." You sighed with your head thrown back, waiting for the touch of his lips to return. When they didn't, your head whipped back down as your eyes searched Eddie's face in confusion.
"What did you just call me?" He questioned cynically with his eyebrows raised. Your heart sank when you realized your mistake. You'd called him 'daddy', a thing you'd known about yourself but didn't dare mention to any of your friends.
"Eddie, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." You stammered, reaching for your shirt to put it back on. Eddie tutted as he took it from your hands with a teasing smile. "No, baby. It's alright. You're gonna stay right here for daddy, right?"
You nodded wildly and pushed your back against the wall again, awaiting his next move. When he reached to turn you around, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. A harsh smack landed on your ass as you yelped, whipping your head around to look at the perpetrator.
"Use your words for me, baby. No nodding or shaking your head, only 'Yes, daddy' or 'No, daddy.' Understood?" He asked, threatening to land another smack on the stinging area. You nodded before catching yourself. "Yes, daddy."
"Good girl."
The two-worded sentence sparked something new in you. A desire you weren't aware of. A need to please Eddie. You'd do anything to hear those words again.
"You like it when I call you a good girl? Made your legs clench, baby. So cute." Eddie whispered in your ear as his hand slid from your ass to your folds, rubbing softly over the fabric. You whined as you searched for more friction. "Yes, daddy. Please." You didn't know what you were begging for. You just needed him to do something.
You were still facing the wall when he pulled at your hips, bending you over. You put your hands against the wall to steady yourself.
He snapped the waistband of your underwear harshly before pulling them down your legs. He ensured his hands were touching you at all times, leaving trails of goosebumps wherever they went. His finger dipped between your folds, collecting the juice on his finger. He put his hand to your lips and bent forward to whisper in your ear. "Taste yourself for me, baby. Taste how much I turn you on."
You took his finger in your mouth right as he pushed another inside your cunt and swirled your tongue around it. Never in a million years would you have believed anyone who had told you this morning that coming nightfall, Eddie Munson's fingers would be knuckle deep inside your mouth and pussy. Yet here you were, and you were loving every second of it.
"That's right. So fucking wet for me. It's embarrassing. Do you have no self-control? Couldn't even think straight when our friends were around. How am I supposed to take you anywhere in the future if you're just gonna be a horny bitch?" Another smack landed on your ass. You grumbled a defence around his fingers, but it was unintelligible.
Another slap. "No back talking, sweetheart. If you're gonna behave like a brat, you're gonna get treated like one."
His fingers left your mouth, allowing you to speak again. "Eddie, please." You begged.
The fingers inside you found a cruel rhythm, curling right under the spot you wanted them to. His other hand, still wet with your saliva, found your clit and started rubbing circles around it. You struggled to stand upright, the arm reaching down your front being the only thing left to support you. "That's not my name, is it, baby?"
You shook your head, struggling to keep it up between your arms resting against the wall. "No, I'm sorry, daddy."
Eddie chuckled at your wanton apology. "That's alright, baby. You can make it up to daddy by lying on your bed for me."
You nearly tripped over your own feet with the speed you tried to get to your bed. The poster of Kirk above it got your attention, and suddenly you understood Steve and Eddie. You did feel watched. Eddie followed your gaze and rested his knee on the bed, leaning over you to rip the poster from the wall.
"Just you wait and see, sweetheart. In a few years, I'll be your celebrity crush." He smiled as he crumpled the poster and threw it to the floor.
"You already are. I'm kind of starting to believe my crush on Kirk was just me convincing myself I didn't have a crush on you." You confessed honestly.
Eddie's hand slid up your thigh as he put a hand beside you, leaning over you. It was only now you noticed he was still fully clothed.
"That's cute, baby. You have a crush on me?" He smirked when he reached behind your back to finally relieve you of your last piece of clothing. You put your hands over your face in embarrassment. You let him take your bra off and eagerly watched as he took off his shirt.
You watched him unbuckle his belt, and nerves settled in your stomach. Were you actually going to have sex with Eddie? You saw his bulge through his boxers and genuinely felt your mouth fucking water. Jesus H. Christ.
You got on your knees and shuffled to him to pull his boxers down. He stepped out of them and let out a relieved sigh when your hand cupped his balls as the other gripped him at the base. He was rock hard, dripping precum from the raging red tip. You gave it a small lick, collecting the liquid on your tongue. The salty flavour of Eddie took over your senses.
His hips bucked and he put a hand in your hair. You bent forward to take him in your mouth, but his grip on your hair stopped you. "Next time, kitten. Just give it a little kiss for daddy, will you?" He asked sweetly. You nodded with a pout, but puckered your lips, pressing a peck to the head of his cock.
"Attagirl." He gently pushed you on your back, climbing over you as he left a trail of kisses up your body. Your fingers discovered his torso, tracing the scars that adorned it. He used to be self-conscious about them, especially when they were more prominent, but you thought they were sexy as hell. They proved he was a hero.
His hand swiped between your folds, appreciating how wet you were and collecting as much of it as he could. He spread it over his dick sloppily, making an obscene squelching noise as he did so. The smile on his face was lewd when he observed you squirming in anticipation. "Didn't bring a condom, baby. Gonna fuck you raw. Gonna fill you up with my cum." He groaned.
You relished in the idea of being filled to the brim. You wanted Eddie inside, now. You tugged at the necklace that dangled in front of your face and pulled him close. That earned you a smack to the tit. A high-pitched cry left your mouth as you watched him in shock. "Desperate fucking whore. I'll fuck you when I feel like it. You're gonna wait patiently, or there will be consequences."
You didn't know whether to be scared or even more turned on at the threat.
He positioned his tip at your entrance and slid inside agonizingly slow. You shuddered as he bottomed out, a guttural moan bubbling from your chest. This was pleasure in its rawest form. He dragged his dick back out at the same agonizing pace before knocking the breath out of you with a harsh thrust.
"Jesus, fuck, Eddie." You tried to hold onto anything to steady yourself. Everything became too much. His brutal pace increased as he gave your other tit a smack. "Was so easy for you when you slipped up, baby. How do you keep forgetting now?"
"'M sorry, daddy." You were delirious when he brought his hand down to rub at your clit. The feeling of his tip hitting the right spot over and over and over, combined with the friction on your clit, was getting you close at a rate you'd never experienced. You weren't going to last if he kept this up.
"Gonna cum already? Feel so good on daddy's dick? Fuck, baby, you're already getting tighter." Eddie rambled as he drilled into you. You were an incoherent moaning mess, a jumbled mix of 'Daddy', 'Eddie' and 'Please' leaving your mouth. He didn't bother correcting you anymore. You were too far gone.
He pinched one of your nipples in tandem with pinching your clit, drawing pained moans out of you. It hurt so good. "Like it when it hurts, slut? Can't cum without the pain?" He asked accompanied by lethal jabs at your cervix. You hated how it nearly sent you over the edge. How he was able to bring out the worst in you. How he knew what you needed, even when you didn't know yourself.
Your moans and whines were increasing in volume and quantity. Eddie could feel you were close and started chasing his own release. He grabbed your shoulder, using it as leverage to push as deep and fast as possible.
You felt him twitch inside. He was no longer talking, just grunting and moaning as he watched your tits bounce with the rhythm of his thrusts. His free hand went back down to your clit and put a delicious amount of pressure on it, rubbing in time with the slapping of his balls against your skin.
"Gonna fill you up. Gonna breed that little pussy full with my cum." He groaned. With a few last thrusts and whines from both parties, he stilled and spilt inside. The feeling sent you over the edge, one last exclamation of "Daddy!" leaving you as you came. He stayed inside a bit longer, admiring your sweaty, heaving shape as you came down from your high.
He slowly pulled out and admired the cum spilling from your pussy with a proud look. He bent down and licked some of it up, making you hiss at the sensitivity of your spent cunt. He chuckled and looked up at you. "Hi." He smiled.
"Don't you 'Hi' me when you just gave me the best orgasm of my life, Munson." You groaned. He just laughed and dragged his body back up and told you to open your mouth. A mix of cum and saliva dripped from his mouth to yours.
"Swallow, baby." He smirked. You did as you were told and showed him your empty mouth. "Good girl." He bent down and kissed you softly, in stark contrast to the proper fucking he just gave you.
Eddie plopped down beside you and looked around the room properly for the first time. He noticed more details now, like the number of pictures of him that were sprinkled in amongst those of Kirk. "If I were to cut my hair, would you still like me? Because it seems like that's your thing."
You laughed and looked around your room. "Yeah, I'd still like you, dumbass."
"Good, good. When Corroded Coffin blows up, you're gonna have to deal with a grand bout of jealousy, babe. That's gonna be me up on girls' walls." He stated matter of factly.
"I think I'll manage."
"Yeah, just go running to Kirk. Maybe by that time, I'll even be able to introduce you." Eddie smirked as he lay on his side, putting a hand under his head to support it. He gazed down at you with an expression you'd never seen on him before. A mix of glee, pride and admiration.
"In your dreams, Eddie." You scoffed as you pushed against his arm, making his head fall back to the mattress.
"Actually, in your dreams. Isn't that how we ended up like this, anyways?"
#eddie x y/n#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson smut#stranger things fanfic#stranger things x reader#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things smut#stranger things x you#stranger things imagine#Eddie Munson fanfiction#reader insert#female reader#x reader
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Burning
Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader
Word Count: 7.7k
Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, blowjob, cunnilingus, fingering, slight hair pulling, aftercare, praise kink, daddy kink, dom!Steve, sub!reader, swearing...
A/N: You cannot tell me Steve is not pent up 24/7. That man needs a break. Anyway, enjoy this filth. <3
"Just this once? I mean, I always take 'em, anyway."
Steve was desperate as he clutched the phone in his hand, his fingers curling tightly around the handle while he tapped his foot. You could hear it in his voice, you were ready to resign with a long sigh as you grabbed your thick black marker and wiped out the huge bold letters reading "FREE DAY" on your calendar.
Nevertheless, this was Steve and you lived to torment him. "Why should I?" you raised a brow. "What's in it for me?"
He shrugged, scowling a little as his brows knitted tightly together. "Er—because we're best friends, and you love me?"
You unsuccessfully fought off the blush on your cheeks and could not fight the palpitations in your chest at his choice of words. Love. Alas, you just sighed dramatically and rolled your eyes, as if he could see you. He could sense your lack of cooperation through your heavy exhale—despite the fact that you've already silently agreed to his plea.
He raised his hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes and pursuing his lips. "I'll pay you."
"Pay me what?"
"Money."
"Great, be there in ten."
The line went dead, and Steve rolled his eyes as he set the phone back on the receiver. He let out a relieved sigh, which was interrupted by a curly-haired boy staring up at him expectantly, arms crossed and brow raised.
"Are we leaving anytime soon?" Dustin asked, tapping his foot and checking his watch as if he was some important celebrity who was late for a big function. Steve rolled his eyes, yet again, and placed his large hand over Dustin's face, lightly shoving the boy to the side as he began walking away.
"Calm your tits, Henderson. Your taxi will be here in ten," he said.
Dustin walked after him, confusion written on his face as they joined the rest of his friends in the living room. "Taxi?" he exclaimed. "I thought you were taking us to the arcade like you promised!"
"Wait, we're not going anymore?" Mike questioned. "But we made a deal. You were going to take us to the arcade if we gave you next weekend off."
Steve huffed, "Look, something came up."
Lucas crossed his arms over his chest, "So you're sticking us with a taxi? What if we get kidnapped?" The others were quick to agree to his ridiculous scenario. If Steve rolled his eyes again, they'd get stuck at the back of his skull.
"Then I'd feel sorry for them," he muttered under his breath. He spoke again quickly before they could show their offense at his insult. "You're still going to the arcade, I'm just not taking you. And you won't be kidnapped, Y/N's takin' you."
They all looked at each other, exchanging glances to decide if they were okay with that. They shrugged and agreed to behave when Steve gave them That Look and a threat for if they acted like "a bunch of little rats" with you. With promises of being well-behaved and quick waves, they watched as your car eventually pulled up to the curb. You honked your horn excessively, annoying the neighbors and riling up the dogs in other houses and yards.
They rushed out of the door with Steve in tow. His hands were on his hips, exuding a level of sass that naturally came with the tight mom jeans. He got to your window and bent down to see you. You were wearing one of his jackets, one that you insisted you "borrowed" even though he hasn't had that jacket back in months. He didn't mind. It looked better on you anyway.
"Thank you for taking them," he said. He silently cursed himself when his eyes drifted down to your thighs. Bare and perfectly displayed by your tiny shorts. His tight pants felt tighter. "Something came up."
Your eyes raked over him. He was slightly flushed, his hair more tousled than usual, like he'd been running his hands through it too many times. The kids must have really gotten on his nerves today. "Yeah, whatever. What were you busy with?" you wondered, leaning over the center console to peer up at him. You noticed his eyes were darker than usual, bigger, blacker pupils staring down at you and chasing the caramel color from his eyes.
He stuttered for a moment, "Uh, work. Paper work. Had to get it done today." You were about to say something else—likely disprove his claim—but he spoke before you could. "Speaking of which, I should get started on that. Thanks again. I'll pay you later."
You rolled your eyes and chuckled at him, "Whatever you say, Stewie. Bye, bye. Put your seatbelts on, rats."
Dustin was getting impatient. "They're on. Now go before someone beats the high score. I've been working on that game for weeks!" You laughed at him and waved to Steve as he backed away from the car. You sent him a peace sign as you pulled out of his driveway.
Steve waited until you were out of sight to turn around and head back into the empty house. It was silent now, save for his footsteps as he made his way to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. Upon opening the refrigerator, he was met with the consequences of not paying attention to where you store things.
A jar from the shelf came tumbling out, crashing to the floor and shattering. He was lucky to move out of the way before his feet could be caught in the aftermath. "Shit!" he exclaimed, roughly closing the door shut and adding another string of curses as he moved to clean up the mess. First, he couldn't find a clean towel. Then he couldn't find the spray to clean up the incident. Then he knocked off a glass of juice from the counter that one of the boys must have left. Upon trying to save it, he got juice all over his shirt and pants.
His frustration was rising within him. If another thing happened, he was going to be pissed beyond imagination. When he finally cleaned up the chaos of his clumsiness, he moved up the stairs to get to the bathroom for a shower. He was sticky, and there were traces of sauce on his skin that he didn't want to smell all day.
The shower was much needed. Standing underneath the hot water, near scorching, was more relaxing than he originally thought. His pent up muscles relaxed a little more, releasing tension he was unaware he was holding. The burning of his skin was enough to distract him from the burning desire he had been holding back for way too long now.
When he got out of the shower and was met with the cooler temps of the house, the tension was not as released as it had been before. His muscles were taut again and his skin was blazing with need. He stepped into his room with his towel wrapped around his waist, sitting on his bed to dry himself off.
He moved to his windows to close the blinds, casting his room into a slight shadow. As he wiped the water off the rest of his body, quickly drying off his hair, he let out a long breath.
Steve knelt in front of his bed, lifting the top mattress and reaching for the magazines stuffed underneath. It was a small selection, but it was the best he could get. He threw himself onto his bed, holding the well-loved copies of Playboy magazines in his hands before selecting his favorite. He let the others fall to the ground beside the bed. Finally, he was alone and without another task to keep him from relieving himself.
When Dustin and his friends showed up at his front door, it was like a punch to the face. He thought he'd had all day to himself, completely forgetting his deal to take them to the arcade to watch them win the high scores they were so insistent on keeping. He'd hardly been able to keep himself together the day before. He had no choice but to call you, lest he combust spontaneously and disappear off the face of the planet. It didn't help when you showed up in front of his house wearing his jacket and those tiny fucking shorts. He was so sure he was a goner as soon as he saw them.
You didn't help him much yesterday either. You'd dragged him to go grocery shopping with you. You were wearing one of his shirts and a pair of ripped jeans that honestly should have been in the trash. The holes were massive, one leg exposed a giant patch of skin at the top of your thigh. He spent so much energy during the car ride back to your place trying not to just reach over and grasp your thigh. It was practically calling him.
To make matters worse—although, he didn't know they could get worse—you took off the shirt as soon as you got home, in front of him, and were left in a spaghetti strapped tank top that left nothing to the imagination. He was dying all night as you laid your head on his thigh during an abnormally long movie—or, at least, it felt really long. It might not have been as long as he thought.
He flipped open the magazine to his favorite page. There was a woman on that page that had enough similarities with you to drive him insane. He fought the shame that was rising within him as he thought about the fact that he had these magazines in the first place. It was worse to know that he was staring at a page he liked so much because the lady looked like you. He was jacking off to the thought of his best friend, and it was a secret he intended to take to his grave.
He took his heavy cock in his hand and felt a groan rising in his throat. His head fell back against his pillows, his leg twitched. He cursed under his breath, reaching for the lotion in his drawer beside the bed. He pumped some into his hand and set off the work, wrapping his fingers around himself with a slight squeeze as he worked his fist over his throbbing length.
Shit, that was better. His heart was pounding in his chest as he stared at the page, at the woman who held enough resemblance to you that his cock twitched in his fist and his cheeks burned to match his burning lust for you. He meant to take his time to enjoy the free time he had, but it was hard when he was so pent up.
So pent up, it seems, that he couldn't hear the front door opening over the sound of his gasps and groans.
You opened Steve's door with little mind, pocketing your Walkman as the climax of Frank Sinatra's My Way played through your headphones. You dug in Steve's fridge, grabbing water from one of the shelves and ignoring the sauce smudged on the inside shelves. You turned on your heel, making a beeline for Steve's room as you kicked off your shoes in the hall.
You took the kids to the arcade and dropped them off. They'd begged you to stay and watch them win a ton of games, but you insisted that you had to go because you had errands to run. In truth, you were going to go back to your place and unwind. It had been a long week, and you were ready for a breather.
But then Steve called, and you could never say no to him. You were coming to collect your dues, and to see his pretty face (and maybe take another shirt), before you went home and locked all your doors, ready to deny any company at the drop of a hat. As you walked down the hall toward his room, your headphones prevented your only warning.
You opened his door, moving the headphones from your ears as you began speaking, "Pay up, Stew–"
You froze. He froze. He shouldn't have frozen. He was lying on his bed with his fist still wrapped tightly around his cock. He was hard, and he was thick, and you looked. Then you didn't look away. You couldn't. You just walked into your best friend's room to find him jacking off. Granted, it's not the first time you've caught him, but it is the first time you've caught him in such a compromising position. It's the first time you've actually seen him.
It was a lot to take in.
The sense smacked you in the face after far too long a delay and you turned around and ducked your head, covering your face with a loud, "Jesus fucking Christ, Steven!"
That got him moving. He quickly threw the magazine as far away from him as he could, snatching his pillow and covering himself. He leaned forward, running his hand through his hair too many times before gripping his hair and pulling his head forward to shield himself from you.
There was a long silence between the two of you as your faces burned hot with embarrassment. If the both of you weren't already horny little fuckers, you definitely were now. And that made all of this so much worse.
"Is it safe?" you asked, your voice small and breaking. You cursed yourself, both for your weak voice and the burn between your thighs.
"Ye–" he cleared his throat, "Yeah. Yeah, you can turn around." You did, very slowly on shaky thighs.
You peaked through your fingers before gathering yourself and straightening your spine. You let out a sigh and looked anywhere but him, clasping your hands in front of you and rocking on your heels. When the silence grew too thick, you attempted a joke. "Need some help?" You should not have attempted a joke.
Steve sunk deeper into his shame, face still covered with his hands. You sunk into your own embarrassment and shook your head after scowling at yourself. "Yeah, I'm gonna go." You had to leave. If you stayed any longer, you would be in deep shit. You were too horny and embarrassed to be around Steve any longer.
But he had other plans, it seems. "Wait!" he called you back. You lingered by the door and made yourself look at him, just as he made himself look at you. "Wait, come back."
You took a step inside of the room but did not move any further. "Yeah?"
He let out a long sigh and made to get closer before quickly rethinking that decision. "I'm sorry," he said. "This is weird, that was weird. I mean, you could have knocked but you've never knocked before so–"
"My fault," you said. "Yeah, my bad."
There was another long silence as you tried to recover. You were slowly remembering your position as his best friend—able to tease him about whatever, whenever you want—and smile a little. "Is that why you called me to take those idiots?" you spoke slowly, trying to sound unphased (even if it was clear that you were entirely phased). "Whore." You added the last word as an afterthought. It wasn't as smooth as you'd hoped.
But he did laugh a little, turning away with a slight nod and scarlet cheeks. "Maybe...yeah. Been a long week."
Well, damn.
You spoke before you could stop yourself.
"Me, too."
Fuck.
"What?" he wondered, looking up at you with wide eyes.
"Oh, I mean—uh. You know, long week for me, too. I—don't worry about it." He would absolutely worry about it—tease you about it. He suddenly forgot that he was the one caught redhanded, the one still currently naked with no armor other than a fucking pillow over his crotch.
"What, were you all horny, too?" he quipped, raising a brow with a teasing smirk. "Slut?" It was a mockery of your own attempt before, and it made you laugh. So he was challenging your own teasing? Two could play that game, but only one could win.
"Maybe," you spoke. You spoke quicker than your mind could stop you. "Was my original plan for the day. Then you called, and I canceled for you so you could jack off, horny freak."
"I–"
You both stopped, and it was awkward again. Silence. Then he spoke. "You canceled to do me a favor?"
You licked your lips, shrugging as you played with your fingers. "When have I ever said no to you, Stew–" you cleared your throat, "Steve?"
He chuckled lightly, and the tension eased again. You tested the waters, "I mean, you were practically begging me." And again, Steve's cheeks blushed the darkest red you'd ever seen. He glanced away from you and swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair.
Your eyes widened, "I meant over the phone– you were thinking about me?"
He hid his face in his hands again, only for a moment. You wanted to tease him again, but a thought flashed behind your eyes that immediately silenced you. Him stroking himself while he thought about you, saying your name. The huge part of you that loved Steve so much it made you crazy was screaming right now, and you had to reign yourself in before you showed it too much.
You shuffled on your feet, looking down at the ground as you thought to yourself. You spoke again, your voice tiny as you managed to get the words out. "You were thinking about me?"
Steve looked at you, the change in demeanor catching his attention as he watched you avoid his gaze. A swell of courage and the heat of his love for you compelled him to speak, his voice just as small. "Yeah..."
His confession was enough to allow you to step into his room some more, just a few tiny steps. You cleared your throat a little, willing yourself to meet his gaze. His face was flushed and his eyes were dark. His hair was tousled, and his lips looked like they needed a kiss.
"What were you thinking about?"
Somehow, it didn't feel nearly as awkward as it had before. Steve didn't blush deeper or hide away again. His eyes remained glued to you, and his fists gripped the sheets out of view. "Just...you. Touching me, kissing me."
You moved closer again, rubbing your arm and holding your elbow in your palm as your heart pounded loudly in your chest. "Fucking you?" Steve swallowed and nodded. God, you were on fire. Was it just you? Was it not sweltering hot in the room? "Do you think about it a lot?"
"Do you?"
You licked your lips. "Yeah," you mumbled. "Every night." He was going to scream. "Last night." He was going to explode. "Right now." He was going to burn up and die.
"Right now?" he asked, licking his lips. You nodded, shifting again as you took another small step forward. He swallowed. "Describe it for me." It wasn't really a question, as it was a request. Before you knew it, you were standing at the side of his bed, all embarrassment gone and replaced with images of Steve's lips on you (at least).
You sat down onto the tiny space his bed allowed, tentatively raising your hand to his arm to feel his blazing skin. You grabbed the inside of his forearm, stroking your thumb over the skin slowly. "Can I..." you trailed off, taking in a breath. "Can I show you?"
He almost choked. Was this happening? Were you actually asking to show him your dirty fantasies? Or was this all in his head? If this was all in his head, the shame of it all would slap him in the face pretty soon.
He nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said, placing a hand on your waist. You stared at his pretty face some more, addicted to being this close to him. You raised a hand to press against his bare chest, which was really hairy (as if you didn't already know that). You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, a soft one at first as he raised his hand to cup your cheek. You melted against him, allowing the pleasure of his kiss to lull you. It was even better than you imagined, better than anything you could have ever imagined.
His lips locked against your own, and he held you close. You sighed against his mouth, leaning into him with bated breath. You steadied yourself onto the bed, throwing your leg over his lap as you deepened the burning kiss. Your hands moved to tangle in his hair, one of them pulling on his brunet locks lightly as he opened up to let you in. You trailed your hand down his chest, tickling his skin with your fingertips as it traveled through his chest chair and down to his abdomen.
The pillow stopped you, and you moved to take it out of the way. He grabbed your hand, pulling away from your kiss to focus his eyes on your lips and your gaze. His breath was short, unsteady as he stared at you. You were both so close to each other now. You could feel his hot breath on your face, fanning over your skin teasingly.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice quiet but not as small as it was before. You licked your lips and nodded, breathing "yes" before pushing forward to kiss him again. He let go of your hand in favor of holding your waist. He pulled your body flush against his, sitting back so you could lay against him as he kissed you.
You successfully moved the pillow out of the way, still kissing him feverishly as your hand lingered against his lower belly. When your fingers brushed against him, he hissed, pulling back from your lips again. You buried your face in his neck, slotting your lips against his skin there to pepper him in kisses. You grabbed his cock slowly in your hand, stroking your thumb over his slit where slick precum had already been leaking out.
Steve huffed against your touch. You sucked on a patch of skin under his ear, and his huff turned into a broken moan. His cock was thick, throbbing in your hand as you wrapped your fingers around him. His pants never did him justice. He moaned your name into your ear, and your clit throbbed at the sound of it. You stroked your hand along his cock as you finished biting and sucking your mark into his neck. His big hands held onto your waist and kept you close through it all, his own mouth dragging along your neck and tasting your skin.
You pulled away after a moment, staring at him with dark eyes as he reflected the lust in your gaze. You moved back onto your knees, never tearing your gaze away from him as you continued stroking him. Then you let go of him to pull your shirt over your head, exposing your bare chest to him. Steve nearly pounced, eager to have his hands all over you.
He drunkenly stared at you before he leaned forward. You placed your hand on his chest to keep him laying back. You leaned forward against him instead, pressing your lips to his collarbone. He reached for your thighs, finally pressing his palms against the skin there just to feel you. He could feel the quiver in your thighs as you trailed your kisses down his body. When you were laying before him, propped up on your elbows as you looked up at him, Steve lost his breath. You were gorgeous.
You stroked him again, your eyes gluing to his thick cock as you practically salivated. His tip was flushed red, it almost looked painful. He was huge, a lot bigger than you would have guessed. You took his length in your hand and stroked him a couple times more before leaning forward and dragging your tongue along the underside of him. Steve's head fell back as his eyes screwed shut, breath caught in his throat.
When you reached his tip, you tasted the precum gathered there and moaned. You swirled your tongue around him, suckling gently as you went along. Steve was losing his mind, staring at you with a dark gaze as you sucked him off.
He must be dreaming. There's no way you were actually doing this to him, here in his room with your lips wrapped around his cock. This had to be some glorious, sick dream that proves Steve needs help.
But it wasn't. Not even his own imagination could make him feel as good as you were right now. You flattened your tongue against him, going farther down his length with each little suckle around his tip. White, sticky precum continued to seep from his slit onto your tongue. You were already drunk on the taste of him, sucking on him as you took him as best you could. But he was thick, and there was a lot of him.
You took him down your throat soon enough, eyes watering and legs trembling. As soon as you did, Steve's hands moved to your hair, tangling there to ground himself as your tight throat squeezed around him. You couldn't take him all, there was too much of him. He didn't seem to mind. Steve was on Cloud Nine watching you take him.
He was going to burst soon. Between his own work before your interruption and your talented tongue working him now, he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. You felt him twitching in your throat and pulled off of him just enough to lick along his shaft again. He was close, you could feel it.
"Fuck, baby," he groaned. You let out a long breath, breaking off into a moan as the words fell from his tongue. You played it over and over again in your head as he relished in the pleasure you granted him. "That's so good," he breathed. "Keep going."
And you did. Spurred on by his praise, you sucked him off until he was fighting the urge to fuck your face. He cursed breathlessly, hands tightening in your hair as you worked him into your mouth.
"Sshit," was the only warning he could manage when he finally tipped over the edge. He yanked on your hair to pull your head back as he came. You held your mouth open, closing your eyes as he released. His cum stained your face, decorating your lips, your tongue, and your pretty cheeks. Steve's body tensed and he groaned roughly as thick ropes of cum erupted from his cock and all over your face and some along your throat and chest. When he looked at you, he swore he could've come again as he was met with the sight of you.
He watched you lick your lips to gather as much of it as you can. He'd really made a mess of you, watching you wipe cum from yourself to taste with long moans. He pulled you up in no time, indulging in your lips as he kissed you hungrily. He could taste his cum on your tongue, could feel some of the hot release against his own face as you climbed into his lap.
He held you closely by your waist, relishing in the feel of you. His hands gripped your ass through your tiny shorts as he chased your lips. You giggle against his mouth, loving the way he breathed his desire into you. He wrapped one arm around your back to hold you close, using the other to support you both as he moved you into your back. He towered over you, pressing kisses all over your face and collecting the cum still stained there. He kissed it all up, stopping to admire your throat and chest for a moment as he stared.
He shook his head, dark eyes boring into your breasts as he ran his hands over your nipples—sensitive and all but peaked. "I wanna fuck your tits so bad," he confessed, groping you suddenly.
You gasped at both his hand around you and his confession. You didn't have time to say anything about it, though, because he continued his adventure down your body with hungry kisses. When he reached your shorts, he pulled them off with little care to take his time. He needed you now.
Steve didn't know if he should be shocked to find you without panties or to make a mental note to punish you later for it (he's hoping to God he has the chance to). He just looked up at you and tsked, shaking his head at you and making you laugh again.
Then he dove in. Your back arched and you gasped immediately, blinded by the pleasure of his lips on you as he licked and sucked on your pussy. His tongue glided through your folds hungrily. He licked up your juices and sucked on your clit like you were his last meal on death row. His tongue plunged inside of you, addicted to your taste as he moaned and hummed against you.
You were going to lose your mind. Your head was spinning and your body was on fire. It was mind-numbing to have his mouth devouring you like this after pining over him for so long, on top of being so pent up these past few days. You needed this more than you realized, and Steve was the perfect person to fill that hole with—to fill your hole with.
Your lips parted for air and moans as your fingers twisted in his hair, gripping and tugging hopelessly. "Mm, Steve!" you gasped. "Fuck, yes!"
He separated from you for a moment to look at you, replacing his tongue with two thick fingers as he stuffed you with them, curling and pumping and spreading them inside you. His lips were kiss-swollen and wet from spit and arousal as he stared at you with dark, primal eyes. A particular curl of his fingers at you lifting off the bed as you whined at him.
"S'that feel good?" he asked, pressing his fingers as deep as they'll go as he fucked you with them. "You like the way I take care of you? You like the way Daddy takes care of you?"
That made you clenched around him, moaning a little louder at the feelings coursing through your veins. It was like fire in your blood. "Yeah?" he questioned. "You want me to make you come?" You nodded. He smiled at you but shook his head. "No, doll, you gotta use your words."
You whimpered, "Yes! Mmph—yes, Daddy. I want you to make me come."
He smiled at you, this dark look that you had never seen on your Steve. "Good girl," he praised, pulling another moan from your squirming body. He buried his face between your legs again, not caring for even a moment when you closed your legs around his head, your thighs squeezing him to pull him closer.
His tongue flicks at your clit and drives you insane, worse when he sucks in it. It was not before you were begging him to let you come, and he didn't deny you. "Come on, baby. Let go for me. Let me taste you."
And you did, you came with a shout. Your body writhed and spasmed around his tongue when you did. His hot tongue lapped against you, dipping inside of you to collect everything you gave to him. He pulled away from you with a loud smack, sitting back on his legs to take a look at you. You looked so pretty, lying on your back with trembling thighs, your tits on full display for him as he dared to reach out and grope them again.
Staring at you, the overwhelming urge to bury himself inside of you and take you as his was too much to say no to. His hands stroked along your thighs, pulling you close for the sake of being close as he bent over your body to kiss you senseless again.
Your arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close as his lips slotted perfectly against yours. When he pulled away long enough to ask, his hand came to rest on your collarbone as he spoke. "Can I fuck you, sweetheart?"
His voice was a beautiful mix between desperation and adoration. You wanted to kiss him senseless again, wanted to attack his face with kisses and make him cum again to show him just how much you fucking loved him.
Instead, you just nodded all too quickly as you pulled him into a quick kiss. "Please," you mewled. "Yes, please fuck me."
He beamed at you, showering you in more kisses before he straightened his spine again. He took his cock in his hand, stroking a couple of times with a small hiss before he lined himself with your hole. He gave you another long look, a second confirmation that you quickly nodded to, before he finally—fucking finally—pressed himself into you.
Your eyes screwed shut and you threw your head back, back arching up into the air to expose your tits to him. Steve sighed as the tip of him was enveloped in the warmth of your wet pussy. He pressed himself a little deeper inside, slowly filling you up until you were sure you couldn't take anymore, and then you did. His pace moving inside of you was agony as he stretched you like a rubber band around a fucking watermelon.
When he was buried enough inside of you, he paused and stayed there to allow you time to adjust. You took it graciously, nothing heavy breaths and shallow whines escaping from you as you stretched around him. He let out a heavy breath, looking down at you with a focused stare. "You're so fucking tight, babe," he told you, straining to control himself as you clenched around him.
Your lips twitched to say something, but you were left without words as he slowly moved to pull out of you. He stopped at the tip before pushing back inside, not quite fully seated inside of you as he slowly built enough a steady pace. It was slow and gentle and you were going to scream.
You wanted him to take you like you knew he was itching to. You needed him to fuck you just like he wanted kiss you: senseless.
"Please, Daddy," you whispered, just barely getting the words out enough to speak clearly. "More. I need more."
He shook his head regrettably, leaning forward again to press his lips to your forehead. "Can't take me like that," he said. "It's too much for you."
He didn't mean it in a cocky way, there was real concern in his eyes as he continued to slowly rock into your swollen pussy. He was trying to be steady for you, to make sure you enjoyed him as much as he was enjoying you without hurting you. He'd been with plenty of girls before, and he learned that bigger wasn't always better.
His body was heavy on top of you, granting you the pressure you needed to stay grounded as you wrapped your legs around him. "I can take it," you promised. "I can do it."
He shook his head still but smiled at your effort. He brushed some hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear and kissing the bridge of your nose gently. "Don't wanna hurt you."
You took his face in your hands, surprising him as you pressed your foreheads together. Your thumbs stroked over his cheeks. "Destroy me, Stewie."
The use of your stupid nickname for him and the seriousness in your tone mixed together to convince Steve. It worked. He smiled at you and kissed your lips, long and soft, like an apology before the crime. He straightened his spine and gripped your waist tightly. He sighed, "You asked for it."
He pressed himself all the way inside you then, the last couple of inches sinking inside of you and completely stretching you, filling you to the brim. You were speechless, breathless, as you relished in the burn. You buried your face in the sheets next to your head, gripping them tightly as you clawed your fingers. When Steve pulled out to the tip again, he pressed one hand to your lower belly before he thrust into you.
You screamed, breath caught in your throat and stuck there after the sudden yelp tore from your throat. Your body, once again, was lit aflame. His thrusts were no longer slow as he fulfilled your request. He stretched you, fucked inside of you as he wasted no more time in letting you adjust. He buried his cock inside of your tight pussy, clenching his jaw and watching you with dark eyes as you struggled to keep up.
Your clit throbbed, your walls screamed, and you moaned like a bitch in heat. The pleasure filled you up like nothing you'd felt before. You could never do this to yourself, and you'd never found a partner who could do it to you. Steve was the first, and you hoped you never had to compare with a future partner. You wanted Steve. You wanted no one but Steve.
He pressed his palm to your belly still, feeling his cock thrusting in and out of you, stretching you out. "Fuck, baby," he breathed, half-growling. "You're taking Daddy so well. You make me feel so good, sweetheart." His words mixed in with your pleasure and you knew you were going to explode. He cursed a string of words that filled your ears and turned it to putty. "Shit, I love this pussy so fucking much. S'perfect for me. Fucking made for me."
Your rough moans filled his ears like music, climbing in volume and pitch like a ring of bells. "Yes!" you all but screamed, barely coherent. "Yes, Daddy, feels so good. Was made for you, only you."
His cock dragged in and out of you in the most delicious way, gathering a euphoria you could never replicate without him. He was so thick, so big, he was perfect. He grunted into your ear as he leaned forward again, his face inches from your own as his nose brushed against you. He practically growled into your ear, voice rough with pleasure as he spoke. "Gonna fucking ruin you for anybody else. You're fucking mine now. No one else can have you."
There were tears gathering in the corner of your eyes as you raised your hands to his tousled hair, gripping his locks again as you tugged on them once more. The possessiveness was going to make you burn up, you loved it. You spoke through the haze of senseless ecstasy, shaking your head. "Don't want anyone else. Want you, only you."
You wouldn't last, not with the way he fucked you, the way he looked at you, the way he held you like you would disappear otherwise. It was too much and not enough. Fuck, you couldn't think. Your mind was blank with nothing else but Steve, Steve, Steve.
A high-pitched whimper erupted from your throat as you arched into him again. "Gonna cum. Needa cum. Daddy, please, let me cum!"
How could he ever say no to you? Not when you looked so pretty, when you asked so nicely. He held you closer, allowing him a new angle to ram deeper within you. You responded with another broken moan. He moved one hand between you, his thumb begging to rub harsh circles over your clit as your body burned for him. "You can cum, sweetheart," he breathed. "Fuck, cum on Daddy's cock, baby. It'll make me feel so good. Cum for me."
The coil inside you snapped, and you came hard. The sound that left you could not be described as anything but a screaming cry, a broken sound accompanying your constricting pussy as your release blinded you with a vicious white flash. Steve didn't stop fucking you through your orgasm, he didn't stop rubbing on your poor clit as he took you for himself.
There was no moment's rest, not a single one as his cock speared into you, ripped you apart from the inside out with a blinding euphoria. He certainly was set on thoroughly ruining you for anyone else. There was no way you could ever begin to move on after this. You would be stuck on Steve until you died and then long after that, as well.
You squirmed against his thumb on your clit until the ruthless aching turned into desperate pleasure again. Your slick release allowed him more pace as he slipped in and out of you almost cruelly. Fuck, you would cum again in no time of he told you to. This man held a power over you that you could never deny.
You held onto him like he would slip away at a moment's notice as he continued to fuck into you. You clenched and moaned as your pleasure tears streamed down your cheeks.
He was going to cum soon, you could feel it. He rutted so desperately into you, his thrusts becoming sloppy and short as he just pressed himself as far as he would go and abused that perfect spot deep inside of you. "Fuck," he gasped. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Daddy's gonna cum. Can I cum inside of you, baby?"
You nodded all too quickly. "Yes," you breathed. "Please, yes."
He was twitching inside you, ready to burst as you constricted around him. "Cum with me, okay? Want you to cum with me, sweetheart," he said.
You tightened the grasp of your legs around him to push him deeper, digging your heels into his lower back without a single care from either of you. He couldn't stop himself as his eyes closed tightly and his mouth started moving. "Jesus, Daddy loves you, sweetheart. Shit, he loves you so mu– Ah!"
He didn't get to finish the word, interrupted by a shout as he finally came. His hips stuttered and your bodies pressed closely together as he came as deeply inside of you as he could. You followed right after, allowing the mind-numbing, heart-stopping pleasure to overtake you. You were so tiny underneath him as he huffed and moaned on top of you.
You were fairly certain you blacked out for a second, coming to when Steve's insistent kisses peppered all over your face again. You both had to catch your breaths, too wrapped up in the other to worry about anything but getting your breathing even before you passed out. You stayed like that for a moment, relishing in the feeling of his thick cock filling you up, stopping your mix of cum from leaking out of you like it meant to do.
When Steve pulled out of you, the dreadful feeling of emptiness began to seep into your bones and you missed him already. He continued to shower you in kisses before he pulled back to see the flow of cum dripping onto his sheets. You wanted to apologize, but you had a feeling he didn't care much.
You laid limp on the sheets, eyes droopy as your arms fell at either side of your head. Steve sat up, stretching out his limbs before he moved to stand to his feet. He disappeared from the room, and you whined weakly. It took a lot of energy to conjure up the sound from somewhere in your throat. He returned soon enough, chuckling at you as he shook his head, a damp cloth in his hand. "I'm right here, needy."
You watched him return to you, his hair falling over his forehead, his pretty lips plump and pink. He walked over to you, leaning over and pressing a kiss to your lips. He started cleaning you up, your face, your chest, the stickiness between your thighs. He took care of you, discarding the rag on his drawer and scooping you up in his arms.
He set you back on the bed, your head on the pillows this time. He knelt by the bed, his fists stacked under his chin as he stared at you, watching you watch him with dopey grins on both your faces. "You need anything? Water? A snack? I've got plenty."
You laughed gently, reaching out to curl your fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp gently like a puppy. He melted against your touch, warmth filling his chest at the attention. You chuckled again, pressing your palm to his cheek and stroking your knuckles over the soft skin. "Just want you," you told him. "Come on, get in." You pat the empty space next to you, and he graciously listened.
He cuddled up behind you, his arms wrapping securely around your body. You turned to face him, scooting closer to press your face into his chest. It was quiet for a while as he traced patterns along your spine. You called his name gently, tapping his chest. He hummed, his chin placed atop your head.
"Did you mean it?"
He furrowed his brow and looked down at you. "Mean what?"
"When you said you loved me," you whispered. "Did you mean it?"
He let out a gentle breath, tucking his finger under your chin and lifting your head to look at him again. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your own, lingering there for a while before he pulled away. "Absolutely. I've always loved you."
You smiled, pulling your head from his hand and burying your face in his chest. You closed your eyes and let out a content breath, holding his close. "I love you, too, Stewie."
He laughed, a hearty laugh that rumbling in his chest. Fuck, he loves you so much. He stroked his hand along your back and nodded once. "That's good."
Steve the Babysitter: ...
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#steve harrington#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x reader smut#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic#female reader#reader insert
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All I Ever Wanted
Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.8K
Tags: Best friends to lovers, minor hurt/comfort, half-joking marriage proposals, VERY BRIEF fatphobic comment and general bad-date-behavior, really stupidly soft fluff, pet names instead of y/n.
Summary: Eddie has always been your best friend, the person you'd much rather spend your time with than going out on dates, but he swears he never wants to get married and likes to play the wingman for you, so you've come to terms with the fact that things will always just be platonic between you...or will they?
[AO3]
As the man in front of you chews his steak, open mouthed, and over-explains the American football scoring system you can’t stop your mind from wandering. Your fork pokes at your risotto absent-mindedly as you give your date a blank nod. Before this date, you were confident that a touchdown was worth six points, but the tone with which he’s speaking to you has you doubting yourself on a subject you honestly couldn’t care less about.
Another nod and a soft “mhm,” prompts him to continue, however, so you figure you have another five to ten minutes of daydreaming before he decides to ask you another rhetorical question and speak over your answer.
Your date drones on, and you can’t help but wonder what you would be doing if you turned down this dinner to hang out with your best friend (like you originally wanted to).
Sure, you shouldn’t be thinking about another man when you’re on a date, but Eddie Munson isn’t just some other man. He never has been. From the moment you joined Hellfire club in your freshman year, the man has been nothing less than a best friend to you. Even now, well into your twenties, he’s the only constant in your life. Dates come and go, but you’ll always have Eddie.
Of course, you’ve always wondered if there could be something more there. After all, not a day goes by that you don’t speak.
There’s a level of comfort between you two that you don’t think you’ve ever experienced even within your long term relationships. Hands that always seem to find each other, whispers passed across the small expanse of a shared bed during movie nights that went on for just a little too long. His shoulder felt like the comfiest pillow whenever you sat next to him on the couch, and he swears up and down that nobody is allowed to touch his hair, but he’s always begging you to braid it for him. Smiles passed over cocktail glasses and beer bottles after his band plays a show, his hand on your knee when he accompanies you to the latest play you’ve been dying to see. Every outing with your best friend feels more like a date than the last…but then he urges you to accept the drinks from strangers at the bar and convinces you to go on dates when other people ask, which is how you ended up here. Plus, he’s vehemently anti-marriage and laughs whenever you bring up your dream wedding, claiming he never wants to be tied down, so you know even if you did try to pursue something more than friendship with him, it wouldn’t lead anywhere.
Still, you wouldn’t trade him for the world.
Yeah, you think as a bit of mashed potato flies from your date’s mouth, landing on the rim of your glass, you’d take a lifetime of platonic dates with Eddie over this any day. Even if platonic is all it will ever be.
You manage to make it through dinner with a forced pleasant smile and a neck ache from nodding so much, but politely decline dessert in hopes to get out of the restaurant as soon as possible.
“Atta girl,” the creep actually snorts, nose turned up and eyes pointed at your backside as you stand to leave. You also notice that the amount of cash he threw on the table would only account for a $0.47 tip on a nearly $30 bill, but that’s hardly relevant as he finishes his comment. “Gotta keep it tight, right? The chocolate cake really isn’t worth the risk.”
His hand on your lower back feels slimy as he guides you out of the restaurant and you bite your tongue to hold back a venomous reply.
When you stop in front of your car, you’re thanking every deity possible that you decided to meet him here rather than accepting his offer to drive you. The air is tense, thick with humidity and the impending horror that is the kiss he surely feels entitled to, but before he gets too close your hand flies out between you, stopping him in his tracks with an awkward grin. Reluctantly, he shakes your hand, still leaning in and hoping he might still get at least a little bit lucky. His smarmy smile raises the hair on the back of your neck when he promises to call you.
You severely hope that he doesn’t.
It isn’t until you take your keys out of the ignition ten minutes later that you realize in your skeeved out haze, your auto-pilot has brought you to Eddie’s driveway rather than your apartment complex.
The lights inside are out, but a faint blue television glow in the living room window tells you that he’s home and more than likely awake. With a huff, you kick off your heels and throw them into the back seat, more interested in braving the rocks in the driveway than going another minute wearing the damn things, and make your way to the front door. You let yourself in with your spare key, but announce your arrival with a boisterous shout so you don’t startle him.
“Hey! Just me!” You call, hanging your purse off of the barstool nearest the door and shedding your jacket.
There’s a muffled greeting from the couch, and you look up to find Eddie waving and smiling around a mouthful of popcorn. After an exaggerated swallow, he repeats, “wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
“Yeah,” you say with another dramatic huff, padding down the length of the trailer to his bedroom. He watches with amusement as you strut around his home as if it were your own, never once does he stop you, though. Already digging in his dresser drawers, you call out to him, “can I borrow some pajamas? I need to get out of these damn pantyhose.”
His only response is a gentle laugh and a soft, “‘Course, doll.”
There’s an electronic fizzle from beyond the door, and the blue light goes dark, followed soon enough by a light rapping of Eddie’s knuckles against the door left slightly ajar. You’ve just pulled on your favorite tee shirt of his (a threadbare tour shirt from Ozzy Osbourne’s Ultimate Sin concert, the tickets were his present from you for finally graduating) and a clean pair of boxers, so you wrench open the door to find him leaning casually on the frame, innocent smile fixed on his face.
“Wanna talk about it?” He asks.
Of course, he doesn’t really want to listen to you talk about your date. He never does, though he’d never admit it to you, but he’s gotten used to this particular kind of torture, and he’d rather hear you huff about the bad ones than gush about the good ones anyway.
A heavy sigh hangs in the air between you, and you shrug as you flop ungracefully onto his bed, scooting higher to rest your feet on the headboard and flinging your arms out beside you haphazardly. The mattress dips beside you as Eddie lays down as well, head next to yours, feet dangling off the foot of the bed. His hair tickles at your ear where it fans out beside him, and you giggle as you reach up to tuck it away, turning your head to face him as best you can.
“I don’t know,” you sigh one more time, “there isn’t much to say that couldn’t be said about the last one.”
“Did this one at least remember his wallet?” He asks, a bite in his tone that he usually reserves only for the men who treat you poorly.
You hum, hand still tangled in his hair. “Yeah, but the poor waitress deserved a much better tip than he gave her so I couldn’t leave without slipping a fiver on the table.”
“You’re a saint, sweetheart.” He chides with a sole, warm ‘hmph’ of a laugh.
“Yeah well,” your own laugh is bitter, “he practically grabbed her ass and called mine too fat in the same breath, so I felt like I owed her something to apologize for his behavior.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
For all the anger in his words, his voice is soft. The air between you crackles with warmth, comfort. Eddie turns to face you, reaching up to hold onto your wrist as you continue to play with his hair thoughtlessly. His thumb strokes at the soft skin he finds there, warm brown eyes searching your own as you continue.
“I wish.” You don’t want to admit what comes next, but the words flow on their own, damning you before you could even try to stop them. “...You know, I sometimes wonder why I even bother with these men when here you are, being absolutely perfect.”
He beams with pride, eyes wrinkling at the corners like they always do when you catch him off guard with a compliment. He looks like sunshine and it makes your heart ache.
“Well, I try my best.” The silence in his pause is familiar, not uncomfortable, both of you teetering on the edge of a giggle that you won’t fully let out. After another beat, he groans dramatically as he sits up, using his feet for momentum to stand fully. You watch as he stands in front of the mirror on his dresser and piles his hair atop his head, pulling a scrunched sort of face as he can’t get it to sit just right. “Anyway, you deserve it, you know.” He says, making eye contact with you in the reflection. “The best, that is.”
You roll your eyes and sit up, scooting to the end of the bed and patting the spot in front of you. “Come here, before you make it worse.”
He manages a sheepish smile and sits cross legged on the floor in front of you. As you finger comb out the tangles in his hair, slowly, and with quite a bit of resistance, you keep ranting, foolishly. You don’t notice that he preens at your touch, that he’s practically melting under your ministrations. He swears he’ll be a puddle of a man before you’re finished with the braid you’re working on, too focused on your playing in his hair that he zones out for a moment until your hands come to a stop, tying off the braid and patting his shoulders with one final, pathetic mumble.
“I don’t know, maybe I’m just not meant to ever get married.”
Eddie’s heart cracks along with the crack in your voice.
He laughs, not maliciously, but dry and in disbelief, and he turns in place. Kneeling now, he wraps his arms around your waist and scratches absent-mindedly at your lower back. Eyebrows knit together with concern as he studies your face and realizes, while a little misguided, you’re serious. Eddie wants to argue, he wants to explain at great lengths how very untrue that is, how you’re still young and you’ll still find your person and that maybe you’ve already met your person and maybe he’s right here already on his knees in front of you…
…but all that comes out is a harsh, hissed, “fuck that.”
Something unidentifiable in his eyes – hurt, maybe? – claws at your chest, constricting your heart in the same way that his arms squeeze your sides.
Suddenly, eye contact with your best friend becomes the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. Your eyes drop to where your hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt, the tiniest shake to your head that you aren’t even sure he could detect.
“Hey,” he says, voice tight but stern. Hands splay open on your back, and he ducks lower to meet your gaze. “Look at me.”
Down the line, if anyone were to ask Eddie what made him say what he says next, he wouldn’t have a straight answer. Maybe it’s the tears pooling in your eyes that he desperately wants to stop from falling, or the way you reach out to hold his cheek when your eyes meet again. Maybe it’s the sick churning in his stomach, an uneasy, uncomfortable sort of feeling that he thinks might only go away if he tells you how he feels. Maybe some combination of the three.
Whatever it is that makes him say it doesn’t matter, because he says it, and he says it with all the confidence in the world.
“Shit, I’ll marry you,” he says softly, “just say the word.”
A laugh bubbles from your lips, a tinny, wet little giggle, but it stops the tears from falling and it’s music to Eddie’s ears. You clear your throat, heart swelling at his words, and laugh again.
At first you aren’t sure how to take the comment. Though his words are ripe with sincerity, it's clearly a joke. It has to be. He’s just trying to make you feel better.
You wrinkle your nose and stroke his rosy cheekbone with your thumb, letting out another laugh. “What,” you say, dropping your hand to rest on his shoulder. “You wanna make one of those marriage pacts?”
“Mariage what?”
Eyes rolling, you squeeze his shoulder before scooting back up the bed to lay down. “You know,” you chuckle, working your way under the covers while Eddie stands to turn off the light. “If neither of us are married – which I know you won’t be – in ten years, we’ll marry each other.
“Nah,” he brushes off casually. The way he lands on the mattress beside you makes your whole body bounce and you giggle, he must have launched himself from the doorway to land like that. He props himself up on his elbow, one hand on his own cheek and the other reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean, if that’s what you want. But I’d marry you tomorrow. Shit,” this time when he laughs, you can hear the nervous energy behind it. Your eyes search his face for any hint of a joke or tease, but all you find are deep, sincere eyes and a wrinkle between his worried brow. “I’d take you to the courthouse tonight in my Ozzy tee shirt if they were open.”
“Eddie,” you scoff, pushing his shoulder playfully, but hiding your blush behind the covers. You’re not about to let yourself get excited, not yet, you’re still positive he’s just trying to cheer you up. “You hate the concept of marriage.”
“Maybe,” he mumbles, tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips, smile widening, “but I love you.”
You roll your eyes, certain at this point he must be messing with you. “I love you too, weirdo, but I’ll be fine. You don’t have to pity-marry me.”
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, falling to his back with almost manic laughter and scrubs his hands down his face. “You’re ridiculous.”
“What!?” You ask incredulously, propping yourself up so now you’re the one leaning over him, fixing him with a squint and another shake of your head.
He peers up at you through soft lashes, those damn round eyes roaming your face as he contemplates how much he wants to admit. There’s another rosy hint to his cheeks, and a darker one to the tips of his ears exposed by his pulled back hair. You have to stop yourself from reaching out to palm his cheek again.
Your breath is shallow as you wait for his response, replaying the conversation over and over in your head and trying to piece it together. You fear he can hear your heart beating in your chest as it hammers against your ribs, but if he can he doesn’t show it. He only shows his own nerves, the pinch between his brows and stuttering breath.
Shit– is he really as nervous as he seems? Is this conversation really headed where you think?
“I just –” he shakes his head, tearing his eyes from your face in lieu of looking at the ceiling. Eye contact seems to be hard for the both of you, now. “I just told you that I love you and that I would fuckin’ marry you tomorrow, and you think it was just pity. Sweetheart, you may be a little dense sometimes but I know you’re not stupid.”
“Well, I-”
“Don’t argue with me,” he sits up, elbows to his knees and looks over his shoulder at you. You think it’s an attempt to hide the way he blushes further, but his ears give him away as always. “Listen. Use the brain in that pretty little head, come on, up.” He reaches out his hand for yours and pulls you up to sit beside him when you take it. You instinctively hug your legs to your chest for some sort of comfort and rest your cheek on your knee, looking at him. He smiles gently and mirrors you, both of you laughing when he trips up trying to cross his ankles. He’s a little too tall to be pulling this position but he’s determined.
You’re both still hanging on the edge of giggles when he speaks up again. “Do you realize how much I just love this?” He asks, nudging your shoulder with his own. “I may not like – or even fully understand why or you have to bring the government into a relationship, but if it means I get to spend the rest of my life doing stupid shit with you, or doing nothing at all with you…doing everything with you? Sign me up.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Eddie,” you admit, smiling and hiding your face in your knees, suddenly shy. “You don’t have to marry me just to keep me around.”
Again he mumbles, “maybe not.” A slow smile spreads on his cheeks as he reaches out to cradle your cheek in his hand, turning your face back toward him so you could no longer hide from his affection. Your cheeks burn, a hot mix of your flushed skin and this new, suddenly more intimate way of Eddie touching you. It doesn’t feel quite as platonic as it used to. “But I don’t want you to just stick around.” He’s the one to look away, just briefly, at his admission. Like saying it out loud was just too much pressure. With a stroke of his thumb over your bottom lip, he locks back on your eyes. “Don’t wanna send you off on dates with creeps and pick up the pieces after, or smile and nod when someone wants to buy you a drink when we’re out together. I wanna take you on dates and make sure they’re damn good from the get-go…I want to call you mine.”
You lean into his touch, grinning from ear to ear. “How come you never said anything before?”
“I didn’t think I had to,” he laughs suddenly, throwing his hands up in self defense. You’d never admit it out loud, but you already miss the warmth of his palm when they drop back into his lap. “I thought I was pretty obvious, always takin’ you out on date-like-outings and telling you how stunning you look and…I dunno, I thought I’ve been flirting with you for quite some time now.”
There’s no stopping the giggle that you let out in response, “Eddie, you flirt with everyone.”
“Fair point.”
Reaching out, you take his hand and fold it between both of yours, staring at them while you think over your next response. “So then…why did you encourage me to go on so many dates? Play the wingman? Even when I told you all I wanted to do was hang out with you?”
His skin flushes crimson, and he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “All I ever wanted was for you to be happy.”
Despite the way your chest tightens at his words and the way they leave you breathless, you can’t help but reply, “you dumbass.” He’s taken aback by your words but you’re both laughing still, “I’m happy with you.”
“Well don’t we make an odd, oblivious couple.”
There’s a beat of comfortable silence between you, and then it happens the way everything does between you and Eddie: naturally. One moment you’re laughing about how blind you’ve both been, and the next his lips are on yours. He kisses you slow, lazy, and without urgency, like he has all the time in the world to show you how he feels, his lips working yours open while you hold onto a fistful of his shirt.
This kiss is the perfect punctuation to a conversation that neither of you were prepared for. It’s the start to something new, but it feels so right that it hardly feels like the start of anything, like this is how it’s always been.
When he first breaks the kiss, you’re immediately drawn back to him, almost magnetically. The second you take a shaky breath, inhaling his familiar scent and lingering smoke in the air, you pull him back in by the collar to return his kiss fervently, deeper than the last. Without breaking your embrace, Eddie guides you down onto the bed and hovers over you, swallowing your sigh when he grips your waist tightly. His lips are softer than you’d imagined, but heavenly velvety against yours, and you can’t stop yourself from taking his bottom lip between your teeth and tugging with a coy smile.
He hums, holding your face in place and peppering you with a few, smaller, chaste pecks before dropping a single kiss to the tip of your nose and then your forehead.
There’s a twinkle in his eye when he asks, “so are we gettin’ married tomorrow, or what?”
“Hmm,” your fingernails scratch at the nape of his neck gently as you dramatically ponder his proposal and his eyes flutter shut at the sensation. “How about I start as your girlfriend for a little bit? And then maybe save marriage for…the third date.” You giggle, and you pause, the sincerity of your next comment choking you up before it even leaves your lips. “I love you, too, Eds. I just realized I never said it back, not really.”
There’s a rumble of laughter in his chest where your head now rests, “yeah, you deserve that big dream wedding, anyway. None of that courthouse shit. When it comes time, you’re getting the works.” Another kiss dropped to the crown of your head, his lips lingering there and fingers drawing little circles in the skin of your shoulder. “But that takes time to plan, so…third date it is.”
#eddie munson/reader#eddie munson/you#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fic#stranger things reader insert#stranger things imagine#eddie munson imagine#stranger things x reader#female!reader#stranger things fluff#stranger things fic#eddie munson reader insert#eddie munson fluff
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Omg Mae Bae:
you said you wrote for Eddie Munson so totally ignore if not allowed! But I was thinking about Eddie not telling anyone you and him are dating and you stop by the Hellfire Club meeting on valentines Day and everyone is so stunned (maybe like a sunshine reader and Eddie!!)
Just picturing how stunned they'd all be hehe 💗😂
hi love! hope this is good ♡ wc: 470 | nav post - request guidelines
The familiar sound of laughter greeted you as you made your way down the now empty (and suddenly creepier) Hawkins High hallways, down to the theatre club room. The familiar smell of cheap beer and party chips lingered as you stood in front of the door. The "no disturbances, please" sign hung on the oak door didn't apply to you, of course, being the leader's partner, lover, whatever title you were to him.
You knocked three times on the door, something that was a code between you and Eddie. You could hear the muffled voices asking who it was as heavy footsteps seemed to come closer toward the door, you took a step back with a tupperware container in front of you, looking up and down the hallway.
The door barely cracked open, as Eddie grinned once he saw you. "What's the secret password?" He teasingly asks as you pretend think for a second. "You love me and will open the door?" You offer as he shrugs. "Close enough, it was sunshine. What're you doing here?" He questions as he opens the door, leaving it open as he wrapped his arms around your waist, about to pull you close before he noticed the container in between your bodies.
"I know you said your meeting was gonna hold late and I am totally okay with that, but I figured you and your boys needed more of a snack then party chips and soda. So, I made you something. Consider it part one of your Valentine's surprise." You smile, holding the container out for him. He doesn't say anything as he stares at them, before he smiles and places a hand on your cheek, pulling you into a soft kiss.
The romantic moment is spoiled by Garth and Mike letting out their surprise with "oohs". "Munson's got a lover!?" Jeff asks as Garth rolls his eyes. "Clearly. How come we never knew about it?" He asks as Eddie sighs. "They can never keep anything to themselves-" He begins to pull you into the room before you can protest interrupting their game.
"This is my partner not lover you idiot, Y/n." Eddie introduces as you smile. "Hi." You wave a bit, as Mike stares at you. "Wait, you're like.. one of the nicest people I've ever met. You're with him?" The Wheeler boy whose sister you'd known for years asks as you laugh. "Come on, Mike, you make it sound like he's not a good person." You note.
"Yeah, Mike." Eddie sticks his tongue out as you laugh. "Well, I'd better get going. I'll see you tonight?" You ask. He nods, giving you another sweet kiss and flipping off the other party members before you sneak out the door.
The teasing doesn't stop after you leave, especially when they notice his blushing.
˙ ✩°˖🌸 ⋆｡˚꩜
thank you for reading! please feel free to engage with this post by reblogging, commenting or sliding into my inbox to leave feedback! i appreciate all of you! shine on, shine on!
- mae:)
#maeberzatto#mae writes!#mae writes: stranger things#mae has mail! 💌#eddie munson#stranger things#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x general reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson fic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things self insert#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fluff
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Love is Blind Masterlist
Eddie Munson x PlusSize!F!Reader
Summary: In a last ditch effort to evade the normal disappointments of dating, a group of misfits desperate to have someone see who they are on the inside volunteer for the most recent brain chemistry study at Hawkins Lab.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, eventual smut, reader has low self-esteem and struggles with self love/acceptance, anxiety/trauma related to bullying, tooth rot worthy fluff, Eddie being a major flirt, cursing, mentions of substance use
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four - coming soon!
Part Five - coming soon!
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x plus size!reader smut#eddie munson x plus size reader#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson x you#stranger things#stranger things fan fic#eddie munson#joe quinn characters#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x insecure reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie x reader#eddie x you#plus size reader#plus size reader insert#reader insert#reader insert smut#reader insert fanfic
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Warrior Queen
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader
Warnings: violence, mentions of injuries, afab reader
Word Count: 1.1k
Summery: Eddie is starting to realize how perfect Dustin's older sister is perfect for him... maybe even his soulmate.
Getting trapped in the Upside Down was not your idea of a fun Spring Break, but here you were. You jumped after Nancy when she jumped into the lake after Steve. While not the best swimmer, you did your best to follow down until you saw the glowing red beacon at the bottom of the lake. You climbed through and huffed from holding your breath and looked around and spotted Nancy running towards a group of flying things around something on the ground. That something was Steve.
You took off as fast as you could and when getting close you found an oar from a decaying boat and grabbed it.
“Fuck.” Was hissed behind you as you hurried over to Nancy, closely followed by Eddie and Robin.
You started to wack at the flying evil bastards that screeched and tried to get at you and the others. Grunting with excursion, you had hit away a few of the bat looking creatures. You caught one out of the corner of your eye speeding at Eddie who was busy with another one. “Oh, no you don’t” You whispered as you rushed over and taking the oar like a sword and bringing it down on the bat to the ground. Stepping on it, you raised the oar and stabbed the bat in the head, crushing it.
“Holy fuck.” Was huffed out from behind you and you looked behind you to see Eddie standing there looking at you in awe.
You took a deep breath and looked around to see the others finishing off the last of the bats.
You glanced back at Eddie who was still staring at you in awe, making your mouth twitch with a small grin.
Turning to walk over to the others who were panting like you and Eddie from beating the shit out of the bats.
Next thing you know, you were hiding near Skull Rock with the others as you watched more of those bats flew overhead. Huddling close to the rock with the others, you sighed and leaned against the side of it with your legs crossed. Leaning your head back and closing your eyes, wondering how you got into this shit in the first place... oh, that’s right. Dustin’s your younger brother.
“Hey,” Eddie’s voice came whispered next to you as Nancy wrapped up Steve’s wounds and Robin was rambling about rabies nervously. You turned your head and opened your eyes to look at him and found him admiring your face. “I want to uh- I want to say thank you... you know, for back there.” He pointed back where you came from with his thumb before fidgeting with his hands. You smiled softly, thinking it was cute that he fidgeted like you did.
“No problem. I wasn’t gonna let those evil bastards get you.” You said softly as you looked down and pulled down your sweater sleeves.
He gave a small, huffed laugh, “Still... that was badass, the way you brought that thing down like you had a sword, like woosh!” He made a movement with both hands like you did with the oar. “Very Aragorn of you..” he paused and rushed out. “That’s from Lord of the-”
“Rings, yeah I know. Kinda wish I had Anduril right now too.” You gave a giggle as you looked up at him. He looked at you with even more admiration.
“You’ve read Lord of the Rings?” He asked with surprise.
You grinned and tilted your head at him. “How do you think Dustin got into it?” You said as you stood up to join the others in talking about a plan.
Not noticing as he watched you go with a huge smile. “I think I’m in love.” He whispered before walking over to a rock.
-
A little while later you were walking to Nancy’s house cause apparently, she had guns, with Nancy and Robin taking the lead and you walking with Steve and Eddie. You had zoned out, trying not to step on any of the vines that were spread everywhere when you got clued in on Steve and Eddie talking... well Eddie rambling and Steve listening.
“That was very Ozzy of you.” Eddie told Steve. “Super badass.”
Steve frowned his eyebrows and glanced at Eddie. “Ozzy?”
Just as Eddie opened his mouth to answer, you broke in. “Ozzy Osbourne...? He bit the head off of a bat during a live gig...?” You asked with a bemused grin on your face.
Steve still looked confused.
“He’s the lead singer of Black Sabbath! Steve, you’ve listened to them with me before!” You said through a laugh. Not noticing that Eddie had another awed look on his face as you spoke.
Steve looked at you through narrowed eyes. “Y/N, I don’t remember all those bands you’ve made me listen to!” He waved his hands up like he was making his point.
You looked at him with a bitch face. “Oh, come on. Led Zeppelin?” He shook his hand back and forth like ‘so-so’. “Alice Cooper?” He shook his head. “Iron Maiden?” He shook his head again. “Oh, come on!” You through your hands up as you shook your head. “I’ve taught you better than that!” You said through a laugh. Steve had an amused grin on his face while Eddie was looking at you with a dopey look on his face as he grinned. You jokingly acted like you storming ahead while Steve chuckled at you.
Steve and you had become friends when he protected your brother from the demo-dogs, and while you have nothing in common, you still were one of his best friends alongside Robin.
While you walked between the girls ahead of you, and the boys behind you, you didn’t hear Steve’s and Eddie’s conversation about Nancy going in after Steve.
But Steve started to notice Eddie staring at your back. Looking from you and to Eddie and back again, he grinned.
“She’s single... you should ask her out.” Steve said to him nonchalantly. Eddie blinked and looked over at Steve, with a mild panic attack going on in his head as he stared at Steve wide eyed.
“What?!” His voice had gone up an octave before he cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He tried to act nonchalant back, “I mean, what? No... I mean, no..” He sighed and shook his head before looking at your back. “She is like.... so” he said with a huffing laugh. “So... Out of my league.” He said and then gulped as he stared at you.
Steve looked at him bemusement. “What? No, Y/n is so cool, and she doesn’t care about the social bullshit and just likes what she likes.” He glanced at you before looking at Eddie. “She’d say yes.” He said simply. “I think she likes you. Plus, you guys have a lot in common.” He gave Eddie a grin as Eddie didn’t take his eyes off you.
Yeah... He was done for.
#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x henderson!reader#eddie munson x female reader#female reader#stranger things one shot#stranger things imagine#reader insert#fandom one shot#fandom imagine#eddie x reader#henderson reader
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Hold on Loosely
Gif sources: 1 | 2 | 3
Pairings: Eddie Munson/Reader/Steve Harrington
Warnings: SPOILERS for Stranger Things S4 Vol.1; NSFW (unprotected) smut; dubcon (only tagging just in case because of sex-pollen trope); fuck or die; oral; m/f/m; absolute filth; mentions of canon-typical character injury; taking liberties with literally all of it; smut that is not for the feint of heart; minor proofreading
Word Count: 10,369 words
Reader Gender: Female
Author: Meg
Summary: There’s next to nothing truly known about the Upside-Down, but after you get stuck there with Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington, you learn one thing: don’t touch the flowers.
A/N: If you’re seeing this no you’re not--- I’m sorry but Eddie Munson & Steve Harrington are giving me a reason to live right now. I love them both so much.
Eddie’s learned a lot over the past couple days.
He’s learned there are forces at play in the small town Hawkins that are more dangerous than any drug he’s sold could ever be. That there are creatures which can do things he’s only ever read about in comics, or his dungeon master’s guide, and that there are people who are normal— just like him— that step up to be the heroes no-one in Hawkins will ever know about.
Eddie never thought himself the hero type, but if that were truly the case, maybe he wouldn’t be standing here to begin with.
Stuck in this other world— the Upside-Down, they’d called it— where he realized that maybe King Steve wasn’t the rich-kid asshole he’d always assumed him to be, and Nancy Wheeler had more between her ears than just a pretty face. Hell, even band-geek Robin Buckley had more guts in her than any of the burly jocks who harassed him year after year for being the Freak of Hawkins High.
Then there’s the fact that the cute girl who had lingered on the edge of his classes all of last year was braver than anyone he’s ever known. If someone had told him that a year ago, he would’ve laughed in their face, but he had watched you dive in after Steve with his own eyes. Almost as soon as Steve was snatched into the depths of the lake by those demon-vines that seemed to snake everywhere down here, you’d gone over the side of that boat, and now you were still seven steps ahead of him as your party trudged through this bizarre hell-scape in search of a way out through the version of his trailer that existed here
Eddie once thought his extra years in school had at least allowed him a pretty concrete assessment of the people around him, but turns out, he still knows next to nothing at all.
“You good, dude?” comes from beside him— and he’d been told that Steve Harrington would have ever cared anything at all about his mental state, he wouldn’t have believed that, either.
“Are you?” Eddie shoots back, nodding towards the makeshift bandages wrapped around the man’s waist, covering the gnarly bite-wounds that had been inflicted earlier. He doesn't know if it’s the evidence of his shifted world-view lingering on his face, or what, but Steve doesn’t pry into his thoughts further than his initial question
Instead, Steve raises a brow when he glances down at his own stomach, as if he can assess himself at all in this dim light with bandages obstructing his view, “Eh, I wish I could say I’ve had worse, but— what’s worse than gettin’ chewed on by freakish bats?”
Eddie groans, “Maybe ask that after we’re out of here. You’ll jinx us.” The chuckle on Steve’s lips is dry, and even the dim light of the Upside–Down can’t keep him from noticing the way Eddie’s gaze flicks back to where you meander up the trailer’s porch-steps ahead of them, “So, like, are you and—” Nancy and Robin have already pushed their way inside, but you glance back at the boys, giving a questioning look at their slow pace and silencing the question on Eddie’s tongue. Not that Steve couldn’t take a guess at what he was about to ask him.
“What’s the hold-up?” you call their way.
“Just making sure our wounded man makes it,” Eddie jokes, and Steve rolls his eyes.
They meet the bottom of the stairs, and Steve leans on the rail, “Yeah, I’m sure you’re real concerned, Munson— let’s get out of here before I need a doctor, alright?”
“That ship has sailed,” you huff, glancing down his chest towards his bandages bitterly, and Steve’s jaw clenches when your gaze lingers a bit too long. Turning on your heel as quickly as you notice it, too, you shoot over your shoulder at them, “Hurry it up, fellas,” and disappear beyond Munson’s open front door.
Steve’s wounded, but not wounded enough to watch you leave.
“You heard her,” Eddie sighs, making quick work of the steps as Steve drags himself behind him, and just like they thought, there’s a gate right where Chrissy had died on Munson’s living room ceiling. As everyone works to figure a way to open it, Steve’s still thinking about the way Eddie looked at you, and his almost-question that had been left unfinished.
You and Steve weren’t an item— never had been, but if he were to say there wasn’t some part of him that has grown to wish for it over the time he’s known you, he’d be lying. You’d been Robin’s friend first, and then subsequently his, but in the time he’s spent pining over his breakup from Nancy and fumbling around every attempt to heal from it with some other girl— any other girl— he feels he’s lost the chance at a shot with you.
It would be too weird now, wouldn’t it? If he came out and told you he was finally over Nancy, that the reason it never worked out with any of the girls he went on dates with nowadays was because of the feelings he was harboring for you— it would be strange. It could ruin the laid-back, three-musketeers thing he had going on with you and Robin.
Steve wouldn’t risk it, not even with the inkling suspicion that he might have a chance if he did. It was too uncertain to ever be certain, you know? Your friendship, though— that was on solid ground.
But there’s an interest there, in the way Munson lingered around you… there was more than curiosity behind his question. Steve didn’t have to be the valedictorian of his graduating class to realize that much.
He barely realizes he’s followed the two of you down the trailer’s narrow hallway in his efforts to keep an eye on Munson, until he emerges into the darkness that was Eddie’s bedroom, apparently. It’s pretty cluttered, with a centralized bed flanked by drawers and posters advertising rock or metal bands. Steve notices the fine details as he moves further in, where a guitar hangs on the wall.
There’s a soft chuckle in your voice from the other side of the bed, “What are these for, Eddie?” It catches Steve’s attention, and he stops looking for something to aid in the escape from the Upside-Down to find you dangling a pair of chained handcuffs off the end of your index finger. There’s a mischievous grin you’re trying to subdue, but it dances around the corner of your mouth as Eddie looks like a deer in the headlights for the split second it takes to process your discovery.
“Uh, those’re, uh,” Eddie swallows, trying to shrug off the question as he suddenly becomes very interested in rummaging around the mess that was on the dresser Steve stood beside, “decoration, y’know. They’re cool, though, right?”
“Just decoration, huh?” the cuffs clink as you move them from one hand to the other, before turning to hang them back on the nail where they belonged, careful to avoid the living vines that reach even here. If it weren’t so quiet in this place, Steve’s sure he would’ve missed the soft murmur that slips past your lips, “Boring…”
Something clattering from the living room scurries you from the room to investigate, but Steve’s just as frozen as Eddie seems to be at his side. One glance at Eddie is all it takes for him to know that they were on the same page when it came to your little comment, both in a state of mildly-flustered confusion. What the hell did you mean by boring?
“Hey, Steve!” Robin’s shouting down the hallway, “We broke the gate open! Dustin says to grab a sheet— we’re gonna’ make it a rope or something to get through!”
Steve yells, “Got it!” Boring, boring, boring—
“Let’s, uh,” Eddie clears his throat, cutting through the ringing of your voice in Steve’s ears and stripping the bed down, snatching the sheets back in the process, “just get the hell out of here.”
As the quilt gets pulled back, a thicker collection of vines are uncovered on the bed. In the time it takes the two of them to notice that the vines are writhing with the shifting of the bed, a raised structure in the center that looks almost like some sort of fucked-up, black flower, bursts. Like petals peeling back, the thing opens just as the air hits it, spewing a cloud of spore-like particles into the atmosphere that invades Eddie’s and Steve’s lungs before they can even react. Coughing, they both scramble out into the hallway, sheets left forgotten as they try to escape the spores that float through the thick bedroom air.
Steve manages to wheeze out first, before dissolving into another coughing fit, “Munson?!”
“Jesus Christ! What—!” Eddie’s slapping at his face, as if he can swat away any spores that could possibly linger on him, “What was that thing!? Oh, my god, I got it in my mouth— Shit! Shit! Shit!”
“What happened?” Nancy reaches them first, but you and Robin aren’t far behind, looking just as worried.
“There’s— There’s something in there—” Steve’s still struggling to catch his breath, but Eddie fares better, judging by the borderline-hysterical cursing flying from his mouth.
“Am I gonna’ die? Are we gonna’ die?” Steve glares at Eddie, unable to speak. “I’m too young to get cancer, man—”
“Whoa, what are you talking about? What was in there?” Robin tries this time, patting Steve’s back from where he’s still doubled-over coughing, hands on his knees to support himself.
“This flower-thing— on the bed—” Eddie gestures a ringed hand towards the bedroom door that one of them had managed to slam behind them in their hasty escape. “It totally exploded, and all this stuff came flying out—”
“Like some kind of pollen?” you try to supply, as you pick at the spores lingering in Eddie’s hair, and he nods.
“I guess? I don’t know, but I think we both breathed it in. Yeah, that shit is everywhere in there!”
“It looks like the particles in the air almost,” Nancy observes your open palm, “A little darker, though.”
Steve finally manages to calm his lungs, nearly hoarse from coughing by the time he straightens up, “That’s why you don’t go snatching things up around here, Munson—!”
“Like you knew some kinda’ evil-flower would be under the covers—!”
“I still wouldn’t have just ripped the blanket off—”
“Yeah, right—”
“Hey, guys!” Nancy barks, cutting off their bickering, “You seem to be okay, for now. Can we please get back to trying to get out of here?” Steve sighs, before a bit of latent coughing has him clearing his throat once again.
Eddie shoots him a reluctant glance, “Sure.”
“I guess.”
“You forgot the sheet,” Robin notices, before leaving Steve’s side to shout up through the now-gaping hole in the ceiling— the gate, “Dustin! We can’t get to a sheet on our side! There’s something up with the bedroom—”
“The bedroom? What’s going on in the bedroom?” Dustin’s voice gets clearer as the rest of you move towards the gate, and you’re able to catch a glimpse of the kids on the other side by the time you stand beneath it.
“Just, you’ll have to get a sheet from over on your side,” Robin grumbles.
Henderson looks like he’s going to demand more details, before Nancy jolts him into action with a sharp, “Dustin!”
“Jeez, okay! I’m goin’, I’m goin’!”
The light from the other side filters down through the gate, casting a yellow glow upon Eddie’s wet curls as you continue to pick the spores from him until, “I think I got it all,” comes from your lips. You’re still scrutinizing the taller boy by the time Steve looks back to watch as Dustin throws a sheet knotted into a makeshift-rope through the gate.
“Think so?” Eddie murmurs, blinking down at you with concerned brown eyes which settle only slightly with your answering nod. “Good. Thanks.”
Steve watches the exchange with wary eyes, a nagging feeling settling in the back of his neck that he can’t quite pinpoint. It sets him on edge, as if he weren’t anxious enough just standing in the Upside-Down as it was, and seeps down into his gut with each passing moment that Eddie’s stare watches you.
Something more than unease bites at his heels, and it takes him a moment to remember what the empty hunger of jealousy really feels like, but he’s fully reacquainted with it by the time Robin’s shimmied her way up the rope and landed upon the waiting mattress on the other side of the gate. Nancy goes next, and Steve grows more and more annoyed with the passing moments, drudging on with the slow ache of watching Eddie Munson stand as close to you as he was. Staring at you with some sort of desperate longing in his eyes—
At least, he looks desperate to Steve, but who knows who the desperate one really is when it comes time for your turn through the gate, and you, in some fit of adorable embarrassment, admit, “Uh, guys, someone’s gonna’ have to help me up that thing… I wasn’t exactly the most proficient at rope-climbing in P.E.”
“No problem,” Steve doesn’t want to say he jumps at the chance, but he’s about a beat into saying the words that he notices he could’ve offered his help a tad less eagerly. He can’t bring himself to feel self-conscious about it, though, because he’s too pleased at how his offer removes you from your close proximity to Munson’s side.
“Ah, thanks, Steve,” you sigh, taking hold of the rope, and it’s like his heart skips a beat with the grateful way you look at him.
What’s wrong with him today—
“You know what, Steve,” Munson steps up, and it’s grating to Steve’s ears to hear, “I think I’d actually be able to get her higher… seeing as you’ve been hurt, and I’m a little taller than you.”
Steve can’t help the annoyance in his tone, “You’re like an inch, tops.”
“That’s an inch closer to the gate—”
“Do you hear yourself? An inch doesn’t matter—”
“I think it really does—”
“Can someone please just help me up the rope?” you cut them off, and they both look towards your incredulous expression, as if you can’t believe they’re bickering at a time like this, when you’re all supposed to be focused on escaping this hell-hole.
Max’s scoffed, “What’s up with them?” drifts through the gate, as well as Dustin’s responding remark, which has Steve fighting back the blush that threatens to crawl to his cheeks.
“Who knows? They’re having a pissing contest.”
“Right, sorry—” Steve starts loudly, if only to drown out the commentary, but Eddie’s quicker on the draw. All but hoisting you up with a quick grunt that has you letting out a startled squeak in surprise at how quickly he does it, Eddie’s hands settle on your waist, and then your thighs as you gain ground quickly with the aid of his lifting. Steve’s almost as mad at Munson as he is the breathless sound that passes your lips when you settle in his arms, gripping tight to the sheet-rope.
Eddie’s eyes slip to Steve’s, a ringed hand patting your thigh before he calls through a knowing smirk, “Get to climbing, sweetheart.”
You know what? He was going to kill this guy—
But not before you’re climbing, knees eventually attempting to settle on Eddie’s shoulders. One slips on the leather of his jacket, and Steve’s hand shoots out to catch you by the fabric of your jeans, instead coming into contact with bare skin exposed through the fashionable rips in them, “Woah, you good?”
“Yeah, I got it, now. Sorry—” your voice shakes before you continue your trek upwards with the assistance of the men below.
“Don’t drop her, Munson,” Steve can’t help himself, and apparently neither can Eddie.
“Worry about yourself.”
Steve finally notices the sweat on Eddie’s brow now that he’s up-close, and that’s when he registers how hot it’s gotten in the trailer. It’s strange, because the Upside-Down was usually colder to begin with, so why was it suddenly getting warm?
There’s hardly any time to answer the question bouncing around his head, because you’re making your way to the other side nearly as quickly as he registers it, and his attention is captured by the sound of the wind being knocked out of you when you hit the mattress. Shit, why does the sound nearly knock the wind out of him?
He was flushed, now, and it’s from more than just the warming temperature in the trailer, because the flip in his stomach at the way you blink down at them— sprawled along that dirty mattress, flat on your back— is something else entirely.
It takes all of Eddie’s self control not to clamber up the rope after you just as soon as you clear the landing pad. Trying to hold onto the shred of acknowledgement that Steve’s wounds might mean he needed assistance to get out of here, too, regardless of the jealousy that itched up his spine in regards to you.
“You should,” Eddie tries to be the bigger man, or at least that’s what he tells himself, “go next.”
Steve looks slightly surprised by the offer, but reaches for the rope, managing a somewhat-sincere, “Thanks, Munson.” Harrington winces as he raises his arms to hoist himself up the rope, but manages to get through the gate without needing any assistance. Eddie comes through quicker, and falling to the mattress is more fun than he’d expected.
“What, now?” comes from Max.
Staring up at the hole in the ceiling, Lucas wonders, “How do we get the sheet back down?”
“I don’t think we can get the sheet back down,” Dustin rubs the back of his neck. “Not without cutting it down, because of the separate gravitational pulls—” He drifts off as the edges of the gate begin to sew themselves together, slicing through the sheet once they shut entirely, “Or, it could do that, I guess.”
“That gate could come back open,” Nancy crosses her arms over her chest, and as much as you wish she was wrong, the scar along the ceiling is more than enough to confirm that the gate was still there, only smaller for the moment. “We need to check the other places people have died for more gates.”
“And then what?” Robin huffs.
“Then…” Nancy lingers, clearly trying to come up with some way to fix all of this, “Then, we figure out a way to close them.”
“Comforting,” sarcasm drips from Eddie’s tone as he pushes up from the mattress to stand, “I love knowing there’s a portal to hell in my uncle’s ceiling until we find a way to plaster over it.”
“You could try caulk,” Lucas’ attempt at humor falls flat, and Eddie wipes his hands on his dark jeans.
“Look, Steve’s hurt,” you start, catching the attention of the room. “Those wrappings worked for the Upside-Down, but they’re not gonna’ cut it out here. You need to get your wounds cleaned and dressed before you catch whatever those nasty bats have—”
“Bats?” Dustin gasps.
“Yeah, bats— They were huge—” Steve holds out his hands in a rough estimate of how large they were, only for Dustin to become more intrigued at the revelation.
“First, demodogs; now, demobats…”
“As I was saying,” you continue pointedly at Steve, “there’s no way that you can keep going until that gets cleaned and checked out.”
“I think my uncle actually keeps some supplies around here,” Eddie maneuvers around you and past Nancy, towards the small kitchen in his home, where he promptly begins rummaging through the cabinets. “First-aid stuff, y’know? For if he gets hurt at the plant workin’.” At your questioning glances he shrugs, “Better than a trip to the doctor with no insurance.”
“Alright,” Nancy clasps her hands together, jolting you from your observation of Eddie’s concentrated pilfering of his uncle’s cabinets, “how about you three stay here and handle that, and the rest of us will split off for the other gates. We’ll check back in on the walkies with what’s going on.”
“Nance—” Steve begins in protest, but she stops him with a point of her finger.
“No, they’re right, you need someone to clean those bandages. Robin and I can handle this.”
“Um, what about us?” Lucas crosses his arms, while Max nods.
“Yeah, we’re coming, too.”
“Of course you guys are coming,” Nancy rolls her eyes, a smile at the edge of her lips. “We’ll need all the help we can get, but, you’ve gotta’ do exactly what we say.”
Despite the reluctant agreements on the younger kids’ parts, they file out of the trailer somewhere between Eddie finally finding the first-aid supplies and Steve collapsing onto the couch. Steve can’t bring himself to protest being left here, because there’s an ache to his bones that sets in with every passing moment, and resting on the couch only brings momentary relief.
“Here,” Eddie hands off the supplies onto the coffee-table, pushing around the jumbled items there to make room as you kneel on the floor in front of where Steve sits. Almost as soon as you start to unwrap the fabric around Steve’s waist, Eddie huffs out, “Fuck, it’s hot in here. Let me check the temperature,” and all but throws his leather jacket over the back of the couch before jogging down the hallway to glare at the thermostat on the wall.
“It’s not that hot to me,” it’s an off-handed comment from you, but a surprising one nonetheless, at least to Steve, who protests around a hiss of pain when the fabric catches at his wound.
“How are you not hot? It’s like it’s ninety degrees in here…” the denim vest Eddie had loaned him is sticking to his back, and if it weren’t for your hands working against his skin, he would have ripped it off. There’s a bizarre look on your face at his declaration, but you only apologize before gently cleansing his bite-wounds with the cloth rag and peroxide Eddie had supplied. Steve’s sweating, gritting his teeth as he tries to hold back the whimper of pain behind his teeth to no avail.
You apologize again, but you can’t stop until the area seems properly cleaned. A tinge of red blood seeps from the wounds rather than the strange saliva-like substance that had occluded the area before, but you’re glad to find he wasn’t bleeding profusely. Steve tries to focus on the weird amount of hats that hung along the upper walls of Munson’s living room, instead of the pain in his side, and the growing heat that seemed to claim him more with every passing second. When you’ve finally finished cleaning, Steve’s softly panting, and your apologies fall on dull ears as he glances down to notice the goose-bumps that have appeared on your arms.
“How cold are you getting it in here, Eddie?” you loudly call towards the man in the hallway, minor annoyance lacing your voice, but despite the way your hair shifts with the wind blowing through the vents, Steve can barely feel a difference in the temperature at all.
It was almost as bad as the hottest day last summer to him, but he knows in the back of his mind that weather as warm as this would be strange for an early Indiana spring.
“Something’s wrong with the A/C,” Eddie groans in defeat when he comes back into the living room, slightly breathless despite the short hallway he’s had to traverse. “It says it’s only seventy in here, and I turned it down to fifty-five, but nothing’s changing.”
“Are you insane? You’re getting it freezing cold in here,” blinking up at him, you’re shocked to find he’s sweating through the front of his Hellfire Club shirt. You’ve barely got the fresh gauze wrapped around Steve’s waist before the worry in your eyes shifts onto Eddie, “Are you alright?”
Sure, Steve was sweating, too, but you’d just assumed it was due to the pain. Eddie, though, has you thinking it’s something else entirely.
“I’m fine, it’s just blowing heat or something— I don’t get it. It doesn’t act like it’s not working, but…” Eddie’s hands reach over the vents in the floor, feeling the air temperature for himself, and his frown only deepens. A glance out of the corner of his eye, before he points towards the vent, “See? Hot air!”
“It’s really not,” your voice comes slow to Steve’s ears, and as your fingers press tape along the bandage he gasps out, making your hands flinch away from him quickly. “Oh, my gosh, did I hurt you? I’m sorry—”
“No,” it sounds hoarse even to Steve’s ears, so he clears his throat, before finally affixing you with his stare. Swallowing thick, he tries to beat down the feeling swirling in his veins, settling deep in his abdomen, but there’s an edge to his voice when he says, “But I think something else is wrong.”
It’s the look in his eyes that shocks you still. You’ve never seen him look at you quite like this before. Dark eyes seem even more endless with the way his pupils have almost swallowed his irises in a black void, dilated wide as he almost seems to find difficulty in breathing steadily. A glistening sheen of sweat covers his skin, too, in much a similar way as Eddie. Steve’s lips are parted as he struggles to breathe even, tongue passing over them to wet the salt on his skin.
You pinpoint the look in his eyes, after a moment of sitting still between his knees.
Want.
That was want you saw in his eyes right now, unobstructed from your scrutiny in a way that he was incapable of hiding at this moment, with this fire burning through his veins unlike anything he’d ever felt before. There’s an edge to it, something that catches in his skin, hurts in a way that makes him want to drag you into a kiss right then and there— but he doesn’t dare move, for fear he’ll actually do it.
You’re leaning away from him, perhaps subconsciously, but it stings all the same, “What… what’s wrong?”
Steve can barely bring himself to think it, let alone confess it out loud, but he’s sure it’s written all over his face right now, the mortifying, uncontrollable lust that has latched onto his very soul. Something was very, very wrong about this, but Steve can’t bring himself to care past the scandalous ideas storming through his mind. So instead, he remains silent. Tries to avoid your eyes, but just as soon as he glances over to the side of you, Eddie walks into his line of sight.
“I think Harrington’s right,” Eddie’s hands are balled in fists at his side, as your attention casts up towards the stern set of his jaw and confused furrow of his brow. “I think… something’s wrong with me, too.”
Steve watches your eyes widen for a fraction as you register the same blown dilation in Eddie’s eyes that you’d noticed on Steve, the flush in his cheeks, and the tension in his shoulders, but you dumbly begin to ask again, “What’s wro—”
A finger hooks around your jaw, turning you to face Steve almost roughly, and you’re barely looking his way at all before his lips crash into your own. He can feel your gasp, your reflexive hands meeting his chest and catching on heated skin and denim, but Steve doesn’t think, let alone care. Hell, he doesn’t even care that he can hear the hitch of Eddie’s own breath from where he stands, watching.
None of that matters. Not the biting in his sides of wounded skin straining on gauze, or the way he’s all but doubled himself over from where he sits on the couch in order to have at you.
All that matters is the slight relief it brings. The feeling of your skin on his, the taste of you on his tongue, and the fact that you aren’t— thank God— pulling away from his more-than-rushed assault on your lips.
In fact, you’re leaning into him, fists catching in the denim vest to drag him closer. His hands cupping your jaw drag you even closer between his legs, and he hears the way your knees shift on shag carpet to accommodate him.
He could die kissing you right now, and be completely fine with it. It’s the only thing on his mind— the way you slightly whimper into his urgency. He feels like he has a fever to your chilled hands, but not even the touch of your skin to his is capable of cooling him off. He needs something else, something like—
The hand that settles on his right knee isn’t yours; it’s too large to be, and he can feel the tightening of your fingers on the vest when you’re pulled away from his lips. Steve’s only mad for as long as it takes to blink his eyes open and see the way Eddie’s tugged you back by his hand in your hair— the one that doesn’t rest on Steve’s knee.
Your cheeks feel flushed as Eddie appraises the slightly dazed look in your eyes in that heated moment, before dragging you into his own kiss. Steve’s hand still caresses the side of your neck as Eddie descends upon you like a man who’s lost all his senses, and you’re too stunned by the sudden change of events to so much as even pull away from him— from them.
Not that you would have to begin with.
Munson kisses you just as urgently as Steve had. With the crane of your neck and his grip in your hair, you’re left nearly disoriented when Eddie’s hand releases Steve’s knee to find his grasp against your throat, dragging you away from one man to the other. While Steve had smelled of the metallic blood still smeared on his skin, and whatever remains of his expensive cologne that managed to cling to him, Eddie is different. Sure, it’s drenched in the hint of lakewater that follows all of you, but there’s no denying the scented undertones you can fully realize thanks to being pressed so closely against him.
He’s all leather, and something woodsy mixed into the sweat that drips down his temple, onto the expanse of where your fingertips reach along his jaw. The budding result of a day without a proper shave pricks at your skin, but you don’t rightly care, because Eddie Munson was kissing you like it was his last day to live.
Which, if he were to listen to the burning threat in his chest, it might as well be. He wouldn’t normally just throw himself at a girl like this, but he can’t bring himself to pull away. It’s like something inside him demands that he have you right here and now; urging him to consume you in this very spot. He’s out of his depth, and out of control, which is nearly as exhilarating as it is worrying.
Your attention has been completely snatched away from Steve when you feel Eddie grin into the kiss, only for you to elicit a shuddering breath from him with the drag of your fingers down his chest.
There’s a dull throb in your head from the overwhelmingly sudden intensity of it all, and the only thing that momentarily saves you is Steve’s annoyed, “Quit hogging her,” that tears Eddie away from your lips.
Munson looks down at you through a lidded stare, before his eyes flick towards Steve with a hint of his own annoyance, “You’re one to talk, Harrington. I practically had to pry her away from you with a crowbar.”
“W-Wait,” you take the chance you have while they’re momentarily distracted, “what’s gotten into the two of you—?”
Eddie shrugs off your question, making to kiss down your jaw, but when he groans almost painfully, “Damn, it’s so. Fucking. Hot. In here,” you’re pushing him away again. He lets you, but not without a whine of protest.
“You keep saying that,” you reach out to press the back of your hand against Eddie’s forehead, only for him to catch your wrist and drag you forward, landing one quick kiss in the crook of your arm before you snatch it back. Eddie slumps over in defeat from where he’s knelt when you turn to look at Steve, who is only a better patient than Munson due to the grip he keeps tight on the back of the couch. “You guys are burning up—” Steve murmurs something, and you glance down to his face, “Huh?”
“It started back there— It started getting hot in the Upside-Down, after that flower-thing,” he swallows, trying his best to focus on anything other than how easy it would be to drag you into another kiss with the way you leaned over him. Clenching his teeth, he tries his damned best, but his mind’s running wild. It’s like he’s losing every last shred of control he has left, like he’ll die if he doesn’t have your body against his again.
“Please—” the pitiful sound comes from off the end of the couch, where Munson has fully melted into the floor, an utterly useless mess of hair and limbs at your momentary rejection of his touch.
Steve’s fighting the urge to be in a similar state when you question Eddie, “What?”
“I’m dying over here—” Eddie’s head lulls towards you, the desperate sound of your name falling from his tongue. Despite Steve’s withering silence, he’s in no better a state than the man on the floor, because the same thought that crumbles in the back of Eddie’s throat has passed his own mind,, “I’m going to die if you don’t touch me again. Shit, I’m begging, here!”
And there it is, the one thing Steve’s too terrified to say out in the open, spoken by Eddie Fucking Munson, who has dissolved into a sequence of begging pleas and curses as his fingers card into his own hair like he might pull it out. Steve can see the flush on your face, the struggle of denial in your eyes swirling with the heated way you watch him, trying to turn over your options in your mind. Trying to figure out just what you should do.
Steve’s tired of waiting, and maybe his senses are so blurred to the point that he has no ability to reason anymore, but he doesn’t care if this destroys the friendship he’d so carefully tried to uphold despite his feelings for you. This growing ache in his abdomen won’t allow him to think past this single moment.
So he decides to wear you down with his own honest, “It’s okay.”
And you know you sound like a broken record, when you glance warily towards him, asking again, “What?”
“It’s okay to want this,” the way Steve looks at you cuts through you like butter. Like he can see every aspect of your hidden desire regardless of how terribly you try to smother it down, “I know I do.”
One word from your lips is all he’d need to fully let go, but the widening surprise, the hesitant interest in your eyes— that works, too, “You do?”
Steve releases his grip on the couch in favor of your waist, intent on showing you how much when he nearly manhandles you into his lap, arching into the hands that push at the denim on his shoulders. The involuntary moan that comes from him as he kisses you again would’ve embarrassed him if he had any sense left to feel embarrassed. The truth is, licking up into your mouth is the only thing keeping him sane at this very moment, because with the hasty undressing of his clothing by your hands comes the complete undoing of his mind.
He’s not entirely sure when exactly Eddie picked himself back up from his sorry state on the floor, but the longer-haired man takes to ridding you of your button-up as quickly as he can from where he’s pressed himself against your back, using what little space there is between Steve’s knees to his advantage. You’re easily leveraged between them, as Steve’s forward lean presses you into Eddie’s chest and determined hands.
Eddie’s teeth drag against your shoulder as he strips your upper half bare, and his impatience at the obstruction of your jeans is only a brief issue before he comes up with the solution of simply shoving one large hand into the front of your waistband, not giving you a chance to so much as even rise from Steve’s lap. You’re gasping into Steve’s lips as Eddie’s fingertips delve between your thighs abruptly, a low groan splitting your thoughts as it breezes past your ear with the rumble of Eddie’s ragged breath at the feeling of your growing wetness there.
You can feel the cold metal of his ring as he drags his fingers through your folds, down to your core and back up again, pressing down onto your clit upon his discovery of it, breath fanning against your skin when you squirm against Steve’s lap, “There we go, sweetheart.”
Mewling into Steve’s lips, you’re completely overcome by the feeling of the tight circles Eddie presses between your thighs, jolting electric pleasure up your spine, and when Steve’s hands blaze up the exposed skin of your torso to settle against your breasts, you can’t be held accountable for the way you’re left writhing against them. You can feel the straining bulge in every grind of your hips down upon Eddie’s hands and Steve’s lap, but you’re nearly powerless at this moment to do anything more than catch Steve by the hair and pull him closer.
Eddie’s taken to grinding himself against your hip, letting the most delicious sounds fall from his tongue onto your shoulders, your neck— wherever he can have easy access to lay his open mouth. It’s only when you feel him shift his hand to push his index and middle fingers into you up to the ring that you cry out. Slipping away from where Steve had locked you in his kiss, your head falls back onto Eddie’s shoulder; it’s almost overwhelming. Their hands, their lips— it’s almost too much.
Steve leans back against the couch to fumble at his jeans, undoing them as best he can while Eddie melts into a nearly incoherent string of words behind you, “Is that good? Do you like how my fingers feel? Oh, fuck, I want to be inside you— You’d like that, too, wouldn’t you—?”
“C’mon,” Steve groans as his eyes catch yours, before trailing down the expanse of where Eddie’s draped himself over you and finally stopping on where his hand has disappeared beneath the undone zipper of your jeans. “Tell Munson how you like it.”
Your breath catches in your throat, only to fall out in a moan around his name, “I like it, Eddie— Don’t stop—”
If there were any ability left in you to be embarrassed, you would’ve been mortified in this moment, because you can practically hear how wet you are as Eddie quickens the thrusting of his fingers, allowing you to grind down onto the palm of his hand. Eddie’s pressed his face against your neck, letting out a soft moan at the sound of your praise, until he kisses the skin there in a languid way that’s the complete opposite of the haste with which he drags you further and further towards your inevitable oblivion.
You’re so tense, wound up like you might snap at any moment, when Steve finally manages to free himself from his jeans just enough to grant you the view of the hardened length of him. His mouth falls open slightly when he takes hold of himself, and when he starts with a languid stroke, he lets out a soft whimper. It’s the way Steve watches you, though, that almost throws you over the edge.
Leant back on the couch cushions, head tilted back, he looks down at you through a drugged-like haze, while Eddie Munson takes you apart on his lap. Steve is as wrecked as you’ve ever seen him in his life, blood from the earlier attack still smeared along his skin in places, sweat dripping down his heaving chest— it’s a sight that shouldn’t get you as bothered as it did, but you’re too far gone to care. Eddie’s dark gaze flicks away from you to catch Steve’s, before he gently tugs you back by the hair once more to earn a better look at your parted lips and gasping breaths. It’s like something had bewitched the three of you, and while the men were clearly more affected by it than you, you still felt it in the tingling of your limbs and the thundering of your chest, as Eddie’s intense eyes caught yours.
Then, he leans forward, and spits in your open mouth, only to nudge you forwards a little and chuckle, “Give Steve something to work with, okay? From the both of us.” Grinning as he catches Steve’s wide eyes once more, he bites by your ear, “Go ahead, spit on it.”
And, maybe you’re out of your mind, but you do just what he tells you to do. You lean forward as best you can with Eddie’s arms tangled around you, and spit right onto where Steve’s grip rests along his cock, hearing the ragged breath Steve sucks in at the sight.
“Holy shit,” it breaks, choked in the back of Steve’s throat, when Eddie pulls you back against him. Wasting no time, Steve uses the added lubrication to quicken his hand slightly.
“You really are a sweetheart, aren’t you? Helpin’ out our friend like that,” Eddie teases, turning your head just enough to capture your lips with his own. You can practically taste the lust that oozes from his every pore as his fingers curl within you, your hips shaking at the feeling of them dragging from you just for him to do it all over again. By the time he breaks from your kiss, you see something akin to wild, boyish glee in his brown eyes, “Now, go on and use my fingers to cum.”
“Eddie—” you whine, but the low breathlessness of Steve’s voice silences you entirely.
“You heard the man. We want to see you do it.”
You’ve long since deteriorated into a mess between them, and you’re faring no better than you ever were when Eddie licks a stripe up your neck at the same time he curls his fingers again within you. Pushing the palm of his hand into your clit, your hands are shaking as you reach to grasp at the tattooed forearm holding you to a lean chest.
The way you break in his arms is too hyperreal to ever delude yourself into believing this was some sort of dream. It’s a raw, broken cry that falls from you as Eddie only holds you tighter in your writhing against him. If your nails digging into his skin hurts, he makes no indication of it. The only thing coming from Eddie’s lips are the praises, coaxing you through the blinding ecstasy of it, until you’ve collapsed into his steadying embrace.
Eddie pulls his hand from your pants, but Steve catches his wrist, leaning forward to capture your gaze as he licks the wet evidence of you from Eddie’s ringed fingers. You hear Eddie’s breath hitch in your ear as your own breathing ceases entirely at the sight, until Steve releases the other man’s hand entirely. Your breathing trembles back to life as Steve closes the distance so he can press his lips to yours, spreading long fingers against the length of your neck to drag you towards him on the couch.
Steve groans in the back of his throat when you part for barely a moment, “I think I’ll probably need more of a taste than that, but it’ll do for now.”
Eddie’s chuckle is in the forefront of your mind as Steve pulls you back to his lips, seemingly never over the way it feels to kiss you. His arm wraps around your waist, helping you get to your knees just so Eddie can shimmy you out of the jeans that still clung to your legs.
The room is so cold, so unbearably chilly, but they’re still burning up against you. It’s perhaps the only reason you don’t immediately reach for the blanket draped along the back of the couch. That, and the fact that Steve is pushing your underwear to the side just enough to brush the tip of him through your folds. The sound he catches on his tongue is something you were only mildly scandalized to have whimpered there, as he sinks you down the length of him with his fingertips digging into your hips.
“Oh, my God,” how Steve barely manages to sound at all held-together is something you’ll never know, but any illusion of control breaks as soon as you settle flush into his lap. There’s a stretch that you doubt you’ll ever fully get used to in the way he drops his hips, only to sink back into you again, spilling moans from his lips as he almost selfishly sets his pace. Steve glances down between you, watching as he buries himself into you over and over again, until even that is too much for him to handle. Eyes clenched shut, his head falls back, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thick at the feeling of your walls around him.
His fingertips claw into the flesh of your hip as you steady yourself on the bare expanse of his chest, feeling the hair there beneath your hands as he rocks you forward on each thrust he buries into you. You’re so caught up in trying to adjust to Steve’s desperate love-making that you almost forget about your audience for a split second.
That is, until Eddie props a knee on the side of the couch, the movement of his hands tempting your gaze to watch as he tugs his belt undone. You can see a hint of the skin of his abdomen from where he’s pulled up his Hellfire shirt as he tugs at his zipper, and you’re already reaching with the hand you haven’t planted on Steve’s chest for the loops in Eddie’s jeans. Tugging him closer to the aching destruction that seemed to consume you all, you hear him sigh when his length is freed from his jeans.
You want him— you want them both, and you can barely think past that.
Eddie looks like he’s far past holding it together, when his hand comes to the back of your neck, “Can you open your mouth for me?” Steve’s certainly long gone, with the strangled noise that comes from him as you clench around his cock at Eddie’s question.
They’re dragging you down with them, nodding, “Come closer, Eddie.” All it takes is a shift in his posture, your hand slipping to his thigh, as he grasps himself by the base in his left hand to tease your waiting tongue. His rings would’ve looked gaudy on anyone else, but on Eddie you were almost losing your mind to watch his fingers wrap around himself as those skulls stared back at you.
The leaking precum leaves a salty taste on your tongue as you wrap your lips around him, tonguing at his tip while his grip tightens at the back of your neck. Guiding you closer, you feel Eddie shudder beneath your fingertips as he lets out the prettiest groan you think you’ve ever heard, which is saying something considering the way Steve’s almost dissipated into a whimpering mess beneath you.
“Son of a—” Eddie curses as you take him deeper, struggling to keep steady as Steve’s rhythm flounders, becoming something more spontaneous and urgent rather than the methodical thing it had originally been. The moan in your own throat can’t be subdued when you feel Steve’s hand slip down your hip, casting his thumb against your clit in his efforts to trigger your utter ruination.
Steve’s filter is entirely gone, and he can’t stop himself from saying whatever comes to mind, “You look— look so good with your mouth full, you know that?”
Eddie’s fingers tangle in your hair, as if holding onto you will keep him from completely losing himself when he nods in agreement, “Dude— you’re so right. I wanna’ see those eyes, sweetheart. Fuck— Just like that. Keep looking at me.”
It feels like they’ve set you on fire, like whatever affliction had overcome them was also seeping into your bones. It was getting hotter by the second, and not even the cold air blowing on high from the trailer’s vents was helping anymore.
You’re so out of it, they could tell you to do anything and you would probably have done it if it meant reaching the high you were all fighting for. The things they were saying washed over you like a bucket of hot water, and you know you’re dripping onto Steve with his every hurried thrust. It’s so close, you can feel it. Just out of reach, as the muscles in your thighs tense— if Steve just keeps going—
It’s so sudden that he can barely predict it at all, and all the warning any of you get is a series of jumbled curses cried around his increasingly hitched moans when Steve’s hips slam up into yours. Delirium was what it felt like, rushing through his veins to flay every last nerve bare while he mindlessly emptied himself into your fluttering warmth. He thinks he might pass out, when his vision goes, but the feeling of your nails digging into his chest keeps him somewhat grounded to this plane of existence.
His breath was coming in harsh pants, like he could barely breathe, and you can feel the expansive warmth of his climax seeping from you with the weak thrusts he manages before stilling entirely. Steve is on the verge of an apology by the time he can manage to somewhat think straight, but the sight of you with Eddie’s cock down your throat is enough to scramble his thoughts all over again.
“Hell, if the pussy’s as good as Harrington acts like it is,” Eddie groans, pulling from your mouth with a wet pop, tilting your head up to see the fucked-out look in your eyes, “I think I’d like my turn, now, if that’s alright with you.”
Steve’s hands have relaxed at your thighs, but they give you a squeeze when you nod at Eddie, “Please—” You were still so wired, having been sent right to the edge before Steve came, that you don’t care who takes care of you right now, as long as they help you fix this desolate ache in the pit of your stomach.
Eddie helps you pull yourself off of Steve, which has you both gasping with the oversensitivity of it all, and the resulting emptiness that settles into your gut. Sitting beside Steve on the couch, Eddie drags you to straddle his lap from behind, until your back is settled against his chest.
His hand resting against your ribs, he nudges your legs with his knees, “Need you to spread your legs wider, ‘kay?” Snaking his other arm over your thigh, he reaches beneath you when you do as he says, and you’re arching against him as he presses himself up into you with a guiding hand. Shushing your anguished whimper, Eddie murmurs, “Just like that, yeah. You’re— ah, doing so good— taking it so well.”
He’s not much bigger than Steve was, but you feel so full that you think you’re not going to make it past the first thrust at this point, with how close Steve had gotten you moments before. You have to reach behind you to catch at his side in order to steady yourself when he finds himself fully seated within you quicker than Steve had.
“There, how’s that?” Eddie’s voice sounds strained with pleasure as he retreats his hand to the inside of your bare thigh. “Perfect fit—”
You can’t decide if you like his near-constant commentary or not, but raising your hips seems to catch whatever else he was going to say in his throat, “Eddie, I need you to move.”
“As the lady wishes,” his grin can practically be heard, and when he drops his hips to drive back into you at a steady pace, you think your eyes roll back in your head with how this angle allowed him to hit you just right.
Steve’s barely starting to get movement back in his legs by the time he adjusts his slacks back around his waist, but watching you and Munson was doing nothing for the brief clear-headedness that had returned in the aftermath of his climax. He’s certain that the crap from that flower— the pollen, you’d called it— had done something to the three of you, because never in his life had he been as out-of-his-mind aroused like this. A glance towards the scar in the trailer’s ceiling confirms that the gate is still somewhat-closed for now, but whatever purpose that flower held was lost on him. He couldn’t very well ask the group for their ideas, now, could he?
The pretty sounds coming from your mouth were scrambling his mind all over again. At this rate he’s going to get hard once more, so he stands from the couch to escape further into the trailer, trying his hardest to subdue this simmering feeling once more. The bathroom had to be safe from this torture, certainly.
Eddie’s too consumed with you to notice Harrington’s disappearance, and you’re too lost in the feeling to care.
He pushes you off edge you’ve been riding when his teeth sink into your neck, biting gently to smother his groans, but it’s all it takes combined with his quickening pace to set you off. It’s like you detonate, white-hot pleasure exploding behind your chest as you almost scream with the shock of it.
“Are you— you’re coming, aren’t you?” Eddie never falters, but you’re completely incapable of giving him a proper answer with the mind-numbing bliss that overtakes you. Leaning forward, you have to grasp his knee in an effort to keep from completely collapsing onto the floor, but his hands would’ve kept you steady regardless. The involuntary fluttering of your core around him has him stumbling after you, gasping out, “So tight— I’ll never get tired of it— I can’t get enough of you.”
“I can’t take it,” you’re trembling, barely able to stand the overstimulation in the aftermath of your climax, but Eddie has you almost in tears, begging for him, “I can’t take anymore, Eddie—!”
“Just a little more,” he groans, pressing his forehead into your back as he fucks up into you desperately. Voice breaking with his confession, “I’m almost— so close.”
You don’t even realize you’ve shut your eyes in an effort to mute the overstimulation until you’re blinking them open again, pleasured tears falling down your cheeks, only to spot Steve leaning on the kitchen counter in full view of the living room. He’d found himself a glass of water, somewhere in the time it’s taken for you to entirely lose your mind, but the look in his eyes as he watches you is not as entirely unaffected as you would have thought for a man who was barely out of his own post-orgasmic haze.
You know it, before Eddie’s breath hitches behind you, how in trouble you are.
The way Munson comes apart is just as desperate as Steve had, but he drags you back down to him, turning your head to almost beg, “Kiss me—” It’s all teeth and tongue, moans muffled by your lips on his, in a way that makes you feel so vulnerable and raw that you think your tears might actually be from the edge of pain that comes from the resulting feeling of emptiness after he pulls out of you.
Struggling to catch your breath, you know you’re leaking the evidence of what the three of you have done against his jeans, but Eddie’s too fucked-out to care. Trying to shift yourself back into your stretched, and upon closer inspection minorly ripped, underwear without rising from his lap is difficult, but not as impossible as standing with the shake in your legs would have been.
“What the hell just happened to us…?” Eddie wonders aloud, finally catching his breath enough to speak, but it’s a question without an answer.
Hoarsely, you whisper the fear sinking into your heart, “Do you regret it?”
He reaches up, fingers grazing your chin as he urges you to look at him, and when you do, you find his dark eyes have gone soft, “I didn’t say that, now. No regrets on my part.” Glancing towards where Steve’s moved closer towards the coffee table, Eddie smirks, “Harrington? Any regrets?”
A static cuts through the silence, and suddenly Robin’s voice crackles through the walkie resting on the table, “Nancy, come in. Dustin and I just made it to our gate. Are you guys there yet? Over.”
“We’re still five minutes out from ours— How’re things going at Munson’s gate?” Nancy’s voice comes through, and the three of you blink for a moment at the walkie, trying to think of a single thing to say.
Steve steps up to the plate, gaze shifting towards where you and Eddie try your best to collect yourselves when he clears his throat and presses the outgoing button on the walkie, “Uh, no changes over here. We’re all good.”
You’re glad he’s a good liar, because Nancy simply replies, “Alright, then. We’ll check back in when we reach our gate.”
“You’ve got to say, ‘Over and out,’” Dustin suddenly comes through, and Steve rolls his eyes before setting down the walkie.
“Is that kid always so bossy?” Eddie chuckles, shaking his head as he adjusts his shirt and pants.
Steve grunts flatly, “Welcome to my world,” as he watches you pluck your clothing off the floor where Eddie had haphazardly discarded it.
Pressing it all to your chest, you notice the two of them staring, and sheepishly ask, “Where’s your bathroom, Eddie?”
He points down the hallway, “Right down there, second to last door.”
“Thanks,” you try to brush past him, but the long-haired man catches your waist when you’re in reach, pressing a cheeky kiss against your temple before you can squirm away, giggling, “Stop it, Eddie—!”
“Alright, alright.”
Steve takes another sip of his water when you pass, flush on his cheeks as he tries to respectfully avert his eyes to no avail, but you disappear down the hallway either way. He’s in too deep as it is, and when he glances over towards Eddie, he finds he’s being watched with a raised brow.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“That,” Eddie nods down the hallway, as if that elaborates anything at all. “When you just didn’t say a word to her after we—”
“I’m so not starting this with you, dude,” Steve huffs, crossing his arms as he looks back down the hallway.
“I think we’re way past that,” he holds up his hands in front of him, “but okay… you do you.” Munson plops back down onto the couch, digging around the cluttered coffee table until he comes across a packet of cigarettes. Plucking one from the pack and placing it between his teeth, Eddie mumbles, “You ask me, I wouldn’t let a girl like that wonder for too long.”
“Wonder?” Steve doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or not to egg Eddie on, but he does it anyway.
“Yeah, wonder— about if you care or not,” he says it like it’s so simple, with a roll of his eyes and a flick of the lighter he’s fished from the sea of clutter. Steve grinds his teeth, glancing back towards the hallway in consideration, before growing annoyed at the smell of Eddie’s cigarette and plucking it from his lips to put out in the ashtray, “Hey—!”
“Those’re bad for you,” is all Steve answers the mild offense on Munson’s face with, before turning on his heel and moving towards the bathroom. There should be no question, right? Of if he cares for you. You’re one of his best friends, after all. You should know that already, but the suggestion by Munson that it was at all questionable was eating at him.
He wanted to rectify that.
Steve’s about to knock when the bathroom door swings open, light spilling into the hallway, “Oh! Sorry.”
You jolt to find him standing there, and he shifts at your awkward chuckle, “Steve, do you need the bathroom?”
“Uh, no, actually,” he reaches out, gripping the frame of the door to accommodate his lean. “I was hoping we could talk, maybe?”
“Talk?” blinking up at him, you can’t help the worry that seeps into you, “What about?”
“Just… what Munson said earlier, about regrets?” Steve begins, but when your eyes avoid his dejectedly, he knows Eddie was right. You weren’t sure about him.
“Oh…”
“Hey,” he steps closer, voice softer as he lifts his hand to the side of your face, urging you to look at him. “I just wanted to tell you that I don’t regret anything. Well, maybe I regret letting Munson touch that flower, but when it comes to you? No. I don’t regret it.”
“Promise?” you question, watching him warily. Steve smiles, bending at the neck to capture your lips with his in a kiss that was far more gentle and leisurely than any thus far had been. It was chaste, even, but it set your skin ablaze either way.
Pressing his forehead against yours, he pulls away, “Promise.”
#eddie munson fanfic#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things fanfic#fanfic by me#stranger things female reader insert#female reader insert#author meg#fanfiction#nsft#smut#trigger warning#newstuff female reader insert
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Drug Date
Pairings: Eddie Munson x Henderson!Fem!Reader
Warnings: Mention of drugs, swearing, fluff, the party being the party, Eddie being Eddie
Words: 1,120
Request: The reader is Dustin's sister and Eddie's girlfriend but they're dating in secret. Dustin has caught Eddie staring at her during lunch and hanging out by her locker constantly (basically doing a terrible job at being subtle), but instead of assuming that they're together, Dustin's first thought is that Eddie is selling her weed. So he gets Mike and Lucas to help him spy on them; but instead of finding him selling her weed, he finds them having a very romantic date near Lover's Lake. Dustin's reaction is up to you (he could think it's the best or worst thing ever), but it would be hilarious if he confronted them
Author’s Note: I would like to apologize in advance if this does not meet your expectations. It has been a little bit, however, I’m getting into the groove of things once more. I also absolutely loved this request and would love to write more Eddie x Henderson!Reader <3
Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist
Taglist: @dpaccione, @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow
Mike frowned as he approached Dustin, confused at what had his friend stopped in the middle of the hall. He put a hand on his shoulder and followed his gaze, the expression on Dustin’s face now mirrored onto Mike’s. “Is that Eddie?”
“Yes.”
“With your sister?”
“Yes.”
“Like literally talking to-”
Dustin snapped, turning to the boy with his eyes wide as saucers. “YES MIKE, YES, IT IS.”
The scene in question was Eddie Munson, leaning up against the lockers, arm above his head and eyes trailing over Y/n Henderson’s body. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. For the past month, Eddie has been lurking around Y/n’s classes before they got out, her locker waiting for or with her, talking to her in the parking lot after school. He wasn’t as on edge about it until now; the meetings becoming more and more frequent, and Eddie leaning closer and closer to Y/n.
They couldn’t make out the conversation, but it was very clear that Eddie was up to something, especially when he leaned in and whispered in her ear. He watched in horror as his sister’s head flung back with laughter.
“What do you think they’re talking about?”
Dustin had plenty of ideas, but with Eddie, no one could be certain. “Not anything good, that’s for sure.” The curly-haired boy shook his head disapprovingly.
The bell rang and Y/n closed her locker. She bumped Eddie’s shoulder lightly with her own, walking past him with no further interactions. To the duo’s surprise, Eddie, like a lost puppy, trailed closely behind her. This was unlike the metal weirdo they looked up to, and even more uncomfortable.
However, this wasn’t the only occurrence that bothered the younger Henderson. During lunch, Eddie was on his normal caffeine rush, bouncing in and out of his seat, popping jokes and making the two freshmen laugh as per usual. It only stopped when Dustin’s sister made her way to the table across from them. She didn’t even look their way, but Eddie was cut off, suddenly stone cold silent, his gaze fixated on the woman a mere table away.
He looked at her skin, so beautiful and soft. Then to her eyes, the e/c pools of wonder, he liked to think he could stare into them forever. His eyes knew no boundaries as they explored every inch of her visible figure, only kind and charming words coming to mind with every part he mentally scanned. Oh how he wished he could-
“Earth to Eddie!” Dustin snapped his fingers impatiently. He still hadn’t registered what quite stunned the mighty Eddie “the freak” Munson, but the second he did, he wasn’t having any of it. “Nuh-uh. Leave my sister out of your shenanigans.”
That pulled Eddie down from cloud 9, confusion washing over his face as he looked at the boy. “Shenanigans? Jeez Henderson, you wound me.”
“I mean it, Eddie. She’s to stay out of your...” he lowered his voice, “contraband.”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” The wolfish grin resurfaced, and his attention refocused on his target. Truly, Eddie didn’t. He wouldn’t even think about selling Y/n drugs without himself being there to monitor everything. He wasn’t that irresponsible.
“MIKE! LUCAS! GET YOUR ASSES HERE NOW.” Dustin practically screamed into his walkie. All of his nightmares were coming true.
Frantically, Dustin explained the situation to a wheezing Mike and Lucas, who had both just ridden their bikes like their lives damn near depended on it. “I saw Y/n sneak out of her window and into Eddie’s van. I heard her talking on the phone about going to Lover’s Lake. We need to stop Eddie!”
“From what?” Lucas’ brows furrowed. He had missed a bit from training, but after being caught up, he agreed. Y/n was Dustin’s older sister, yet, felt like an older sister to the trio as a whole. She may have been older too, but the three couldn’t stand by as she slowly ruined her life with drugs. “I’m in.”
“Me too.” Mike nodded, exchanging glances with the other two.
“Then its settled. To Lover’s Lake.”
Y/n chuckled softly, looking at her lap before flicking her eyes up to Eddie’s when he grabbed her chin. “You’re beautiful, Y/n.” He admired her once more before leaning in for the kiss-
“WHAT IN THE MIGHTY FUCK!?!”
The two separated quickly, startled out of their minds. Y/n’s hand had come up to her chest, accentuating the panic that ran through her veins. “Henderson?” Eddie narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.
“Munson.”
“Dustin, what the hell are you doing here?” She had regained her composure after realizing it was only her brother and his friends, but still had visible uncertainty lingering on her face.
“I could ask you the same. Buying weed?!”
“Dustin...” Lucas and Mike had already realized the truth of the event, giving Dustin an empathetic glance and waiting for it to click. And then it did.
The candles set up around the blanket, a small picnic basket as opposed to Eddie’s lunchbox, Eddie’s guitar, his jacket around Y/n’s shoulders, a stunning view of the lake just before them. This was no drug deal. If it were, it’d have to be one of the romantic variety.
Dustin’s eyes were wide, his mouth agape. “Ohhhh...” he drawled.
“Like I told you, Henderson, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not selling your sister anything.”
“Then- Wha- How-” He cleared his throat, “How long has this been going on?”
“For a while, D.” Y/n perked up. “We just didn’t want to tell you quite yet. Frankly, the only reason you know now is because Eddie is shit at being subtle.”
“Yeah.” Eddie smirked at hearing his name, but the look quickly fell as he turned to face Y/n, “Wait what-”
“I hope you’re not mad, D.”
The boy thought to himself for a second, then looked to his friends by his side, then back to his sister and club leader. “A moment, please?” The trio turned and huddled, much to the duo’s surprise. A couple times throughout the little chat, they collectively looked back with intense squinty glares before they finally reached a verdict.
“We are not mad.” Dustin spoke, “But you must promise, Eddie, not to involve my sister in any drug related things, nor be...gross...within proximity of us.” The three exchanged a glance yet again, “And our final condition is that you know, despite being our friend, if you hurt my sister, there will be hell to pay.”
Lucas and Mike nodded, agreeing with the last statement. A threat, honestly. Eddie only chuckled though, not the least intimidated, but not worried about doing so either. “Sure there will be, Henderson.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#joseph quinn#joseph quinn x reader#stranger things#stranger things 4#st4#stranger things x reader#st x reader#stranger things reader insert#x reader#reader insert#x female reader#female reader#Edward munson#dustin henderson#mike wheeler#lucas sinclair
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Maybe It's Enough
Pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!Reader
Summary: Robin thinks you don't like her back, so she encourages Steve to take you out on a date. You think Robin doesn't like you back, so you agree to let Steve take you out on a date.
No use of y/n; lesbian reader
Word count: 4.8k
Warnings: slight hints of / implied homophobia
[also posted on AO3]
The first time you actively realized that you were different was when you were 12.
You were lying on your bedroom floor, surrounded by your friends, looking through a magazine targeted towards young teenage girls.
You vividly remember your friends going on and on, gushing about the male actors and musicians featured in the newest edition, who were striking suggestive poses while smirking directly at the camera. You, on the other hand, only felt weak in the knees if the article displayed their girlfriends or female co-stars as well.
You grew up pretty sheltered, so it wasn't until a few nights later that you found out that women who were attracted to other women existed.
You were sneaking down the stairs to get yourself a bottle of water when you overheard your mother gossiping on the phone about a church friend's daughter, who was spending an awful amount of time with that new girl, Susan. Apparently, there have been rumors that she has been bringing shame upon her family and disgracing the church for quite a while.
Hearing the disgust in your mother's voice awoke a discomfort within you about your own emotions. You found yourself going back and forth between entertaining your suspicions and reassuring yourself that you simply hadn't met the right guy yet (that's at least what your older sister told you when you confided in her).
This maybe, maybe not spiel ended when you met Robin in your shared math class during your freshman year. She was somewhat angsty and awkward, and you were instantly in love. You didn't manage to muster up the courage to speak to her during that school year, though.
In your sophomore year, you were almost sure that Robin was gay. You caught her looking dreamingly at a little too many female classmates, a little too often. Also, from what you heard, she never had a boyfriend or openly expressed interest in any of the boys.
At the end of junior year, you were almost certain that Robin was into you. The staring was now reserved solely for you, and she constantly sat close, but never directly next to you. She also always started that cute nervous ramble when you tried to talk to her, and then always found a way to prematurely end the conversation.
"Sorry, I think I left my water bottle in the cafeteria. Bye!"
When you found out that Robin started working at Scoobs, you were tempted to go and visit her; this way, she was forced to talk to you. You nearly chickened out in the parking lot and had to hype yourself up for nearly half an hour just to be met with Steve "the Hair" Harrington when you got up to the counter.
You took that as a sign not to show up at Scoops again. Plus, now that you thought about it, what were you even supposed to talk about? The ice cream flavor?
That's why you were thankful when she started at the local video store. Movies were definitely something you could talk about for hours.
It wasn't as easy as you thought, though. Every time you came by, she was either busy organizing a section on the complete opposite end of the store or she was in the back. When you tried talking to her, she would always redirect you to Steve.
"I'm kind of busy right now, but I'm sure Steve can help you with whatever movie you are looking for. He is right over there."
Always rushed and always without looking at you.
Maybe you were wrong. Maybe Robin actually despised you, and you completely misinterpreted her behavior. She probably thought you were some kind of stalker, keen on disrupting her at work.
---
"I swear she likes you, dingus! She is here all the time." Robin has been trying to convince Steve that you were head over heels in love with him for the last 10 minutes.
He was exasperated, standing in his typical mom stance with one hand on his hip. "She does not! Family Video is like the only video store anywhere close; that's why she comes here a lot."
"Well, she came to Scoops as well, when we were still working there!"
Steve probably doesn't even remember you showing up at their old job, but Robin does. She remembers how pretty you looked, how your outfit complimented your figure, and how your hair perfectly framed your face. She remembers it being a lot more nerve-racking than seeing you in school. This was a new environment, a whole new situation. She couldn't look at you from a desk behind you, hiding behind a book, if you decided to glance in her direction.
Before she was able to properly think about it, she had already headed to the back, the door slamming shut behind her.
"Wow, now I can't deny it anymore! It's not like half of Hawkins has been there at least once, and by your logic, she could be into you as well."
Robin wishes, with every cell in her body, that even the slightest glimmer of truth could lie in this statement. But it's not true. It couldn't be. And she has to remind herself of that. That way, it won't hurt as much when you end up with Steve or some other boy.
"Then why does she only ever talk to you, huh?"
"Because you run to the back as soon as she gets anywhere close to you!"
"And I'm doing both of you a favor. She comes here to talk to you and then gets too nervous to actually pull through with it. That's why she comes up to me."
"I think you are overthinking it."
And Robin definitely is, but at this point, she had already talked herself way too far into it.
"Trust me. I'm a girl. I should know stuff like that better than you."
"Yeah, 'cause you know so well what it's like to crush on a guy?"
"No, but I know what it's like to be a girl with a crush. Just ask her out."
Please don't.
"You sure?"
No
"Yes."
So that's exactly what Steve did.
---
The next time you visit the store, he makes sure to put on his especially charming smile, being right by your side as soon as you enter. He goes the full nine yards. Compliments your eyes, your outfit, carries the movies you picked out to the counter. After he finishes the process of checking them out, he is ready to make his final move. With whatever he has left of the famous Harrington charm, he asks you if you'd like to go out with him this weekend.
"Oh, I don't know. I'm really busy, you know, with school and everything. Sorry."
Rejection.
Steve only takes a second to recover. Even though Robin was sure of your attraction to him, he was still kind of expecting this. Regardless, Steve feels the urge to explain himself.
"No, it's totally fine. Really! I honestly wouldn't even have assumed that you were into me, but Robin was really insistent, so I thought I'd try my luck. No hard feelings."
"Robin told you to ask me out?"
"Yeah, why?"
That was the final nail in the coffin. Of course, she didn't like you. Why else would she try to set you up with her best friend? All the "signs" you saw were probably spun up by your imagination, caused by wishful thinking. Your own feelings must have clouded your judgment. You're embarrassed and sad. Maybe it is stupid and naive to expect to find a girl in a small town like Hawkins who is not only your type and assumably gay but also likes you back.
Maybe you should go on a date with Steve.
He really seemed like a changed man. He was unarguably attractive, even you could admit that. He was kind and, most importantly, interested in you. Maybe that's enough.
Maybe you were also a tiny bit driven by selfishness. Maybe you wanted to make yourself feel a bit better about receiving the confirmation that the girl you had been pining for for years simply wasn't into you.
For a moment, you felt bad for Steve. It would be unfair to lead him on like that, but let's be honest. From what you heard, that guy goes on three dates a week. How likely is it that he would go into this date with the expectation of finding his one true love?
"Oh, no, that's not what I meant. I would actually really like to go out with you. I really am busy, you know, with all the exams coming up."
Lies, there was nothing to study for the next two weeks. The only plan you currently had for this weekend was to cry over Robin.
"But I am free the weekend after, if that works for you?" You played that off nicely, right?
It seemed like you did because Steve's face lit up.
„Great, if you give me your number, I could just call you to talk about the specifics.“
„Yeah sure.“
While you focus on writing down your number on the piece of paper Steve slips you, he turns around to give Robin a thumbs up. Even though she tried to look just as happy as he did, anyone paying even a little attention could have seen that she was not okay. Her face scrunched up in a painful smile. Fortunately for her, Steve was way too distracted by the euphoric feeling of scoring a date to recognize his best friend's torment.
---
"You know, I was skeptical at first because I never felt that romantic vibe with her. She never seemed interested in me in that way. But now I'm so happy I asked her out. Like, she's so effortlessly beautiful and funny, and she is also really smart, you know?"
Yeah, Robin knows. She knew all this about you better than anyone else. Steve didn't even know yet how beautiful, funny, and smart you really are. But Robin had no doubt he was going to find out soon.
And she was going to die.
Okay, maybe that's a bit dramatic, but it will definitely feel like it.
"I could even imagine her being, like, the one, you know. I think what I've been doing wrong is going on dates with women I don't even know or with women who only know me from my "King Steve" days. They all have these weird expectations about how I'm supposed to act. But I got to know her over the last few months. And I know I'm actually able to hold a conversation with her, one that's not about high school."
Robin feels like she is going to throw up. Steve acted like he always did when he was interested in a girl: idealizing her and already imagining their house with a white-picked fence and their six little nuggets. She knew she would get over it eventually, even if you actually ended up together, but your first real crush will always hold a special place, especially your first lesbian crush. And Steve just couldn't shut up.
"Do you have an idea where I could take her? We were talking on the phone last night, and she told me to just come up with something. I really don't want to mess this up right at the beginning by picking the wrong thing."
Robin never wished to be an attractive teenage boy as much as she did at that moment. She wanted late-night phone calls with you, and she wanted the trouble of not knowing where to take you on a date.
She had also thought about going on a date with you for years, so yes, she definitely had an idea.
For a second, she considered not telling Steve to be selfish and not letting him live out the fantasy that had been keeping her company for the last two years. This urge, however, was overpowered by her need to make you happy. That's what she wanted most—for you to be happy and have a good time. So she told Steve all about your favorite music genre and to watch out for any small bands giving concerts somewhat close.
---
Meanwhile, you were still grieving this whole Robin disaster. How the hell did your regular visits to the video store, intending to talk to Robin, score you a date with her best friend?
Yet, you found yourself genuinely looking forward to your plans with Steve. His idea of driving a few towns over where a small band you never heard of, though the flyer suggested that the music would fit your taste to a T, was giving one of their first concerts, which was actually the most fun date you could imagine.
Even if you didn't like him romantically, you would still have a good time. And you thought it was admirable that he would plan something that fits your taste so well. Now that you think about it, you don't remember ever discussing your music taste or your fable for small underground bands with him. You don't know how he knew; perhaps you mentioned it casually, or maybe it was just a lucky guess.
---
Steve turns up at 5 p.m. sharp. He is standing in front of your door, with a bouquet of flowers, in an outfit you know he will stand out in at the rather shady bar the band is playing at.
The one-hour-long drive ends up being surprisingly entertaining, and for the first time in your life, you kind of wish to be straight. You often wished to not be gay, to "be normal," or to fit in, but never before did you specifically wish to be into men. But right now, you do. Because Steve is kind and charming and attentive and funny while also being insanely attractive, and you just wish you could fall for him. Because you know that would be the easiest thing to do if you were into men.
But you are not.
And now you are driving back home, and you are sitting next to Steve in his car while he rants about how positively surprised he was by the band and how they are definitely one of his favorites now, and you just feel bad. He clearly had a good time, and he hinted at his interest in you and a second date multiple times over the evening. You just know that you have to come clean.
After your sister's reaction, you never considered coming out to anyone in Hawkins again, well, except Robin, but definitely not to "King Steve." You honestly don't even know why, but somehow you really want to tell him. Perhaps you're driven by guilt; after all, you had a great time, and the thought of rejecting him with a shitty excuse feels wrong. Moreover, continuing to lead him on would be worse.
Steve turned out to be a decent guy, right? You dearly hope that you are not making a horrible, irreversible mistake by coming out to him.
"I really had a good time tonight."
"Yeah? Me too. I was thinking we could repeat this, whe-"
His enthusiasm about going out with you again made you feel sick.
"Steve"
His face falls when he detects your tone, realizing you are about to reject him.
"Oh."
"Look, I really had a great time, and you are a great guy, but I'm actually not into boys. I'm sorry."
That's it. You put your cards on the table, full vulnerability. There is no way to misunderstand what you just said.
Or so you thought.
"I understand. You want a man, someone who will be able to take care of you. Not some boy who didn't even get into college. I know my future isn't looking the best right now. I'm probably gonna be stuck working in a video store for minimum wage till I retire. But-"
"No, Steve, what? What I was trying to say was that I'm a lesbian. I like girls. I'm sorry for leading you on."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
"But why did you agree to go on a date with me then?"
Did you really want to tell him the whole truth? If you told him about your crush, you have no doubt that it would reach the girl of your affection herself, and you really didn't need that. However, being so open about something you hardly ever told anyone, and him not reacting outright badly, kind of made you want to tell him about your feelings for his coworker as well. You already told him your biggest secret; what's one more?
"When you said that Robin told you to ask me out... man, this is so embarrassing to say out loud. I just kind of like her, like really like her, and her encouraging you to date me kind of made it clear that she does not feel the same. And I just thought, I don't know, the rejection kind of stung, and feeling wanted, especially by someone like you, felt kind of nice. I didn't think it would go as well as it did, considering your dating history. Sorry, was that mean? You know what I'm trying to say. But you are great, and now I feel shitty, not just for being indirectly rejected but also for using you as a distraction and ego push. I'm sorry."
You're too scared to look at Steve. Completely focused on looking anywhere but him while your brain keeps listing reasons why you are a horrible person.
At the same time, Steve's thoughts are running a thousand miles per hour. He's disappointed, sure. He likes you and, until a second ago, really hoped to build a relationship with you. Now, however, more present was the goal of setting you up with Robin.
This was perfect. All her rants about never finding another gay person in Hawkins he had to listen to, and now he not only found someone who was gay, he found someone who already liked his best friend. Or you found him.
Now the question emerged: What's the best way to go about this? His first instinct was to tell you to just ask Robin out, but by doing that, he was basically outing her, so maybe not the best idea. Additionally, he didn't even know if Robin liked you back.
That's it. Before he does anything, he should try to find out if your feelings are reciprocated. Or if Robin is at least interested in getting to know you romantically.
With this plan in mind, he first assures you that he has absolutely no problem with gay people, even if he is a bit clumsy at finding the right words to express it, and then drops you off at home. He is about to have a long night, planning to figure out the best way to unsuspiciously find out if Robin likes you back and how to hype you up in case she isn't sure yet.
---
The next day, he shows up at Family Video, ready to put his plan into action. Robin, however, is dreading to come in today. She doesn't know how she will last a whole day with Steve telling her how perfect the two of you are for each other and how well your date went. She just knows you two had a great time. If she hadn't been certain already, she would have reached the conclusion at the very latest when Steve basically came skipping into work, smiling with giddy excitement.
For the first three hours, Robin is surprisingly successful at dodging Steve's attempts at conversation. However, her luck runs out when he decides that both of them will have an early lunch break since it is a pretty slow day and there is really nothing to do. She can hardly say no to that, at least not without awaking suspicions. So after Steve does a quick food run and picks up some baked goods from a nearby bakery, the two sit down next to each other, each with a fresh pastry in front of them. That's when Steve sees his chance at being your hypeman.
"... and you know, I feel that's something not a lot of people do, like it's rare you find someone like that. And she is also just a great listener, like she does not only listen; she actually hears what you say. You know what I mean?"
This is hell. No, Robin bets hell is a whole lot nicer than this. It has to be. Nothing could be as awful as your best friend going on a ten-minute monologue about how perfect your crush is and what a great time they had on their date.
"So what do you think? You've known her for a while; do you think she's cool?"
"Yeah, she is. I'm glad your date went so well, and I think it's great you found someone. I'm really happy for you. So when are you going out again?"
Wait.
That is not what Steve was trying to achieve. Stop! Abort mission!
"Oh, we are not going out again."
Robin nearly chokes on her croissant. Eyes wide, coughing, she nearly spits out what she didn't manage to force down her throat.
"What do you mean you won't go out again? You literally just went on a ten-minute rant about how great she is!"
"Yeah, she is. But she's not interested in me. She already likes someone else."
Robin doesn't understand how her best friend can be so nonchalant about this. He seems absolutely unfazed, talking to her as if the reality that the most perfect girl does not like him back is the most basic fact, that he has absolutely no negative feelings about. Did he recently become extremely good at acting? There is no way he was able to hide his feelings so well.
"Steve, I am so sorr-"
"No, it's fine. Really, I'm okay. I actually wouldn't be affected at all if she started seeing this person. Like, I'd be really happy for both of them. No negative feelings on my part at all."
Okay, now he was acting weird. And why would you say yes to the date in the first place, if you already had your eyes on someone else? So she asks him about it.
"She believes her crush doesn't like her back, so she thought there was no harm in going on a date with me. But she is definitely not interested in me in the slightest!"
"Well, that's bullshit. Who wouldn't like her? I mean, she is everything! She is smart, pretty, compassionate, and talented. She is the full package. There is no way anyone would say no to her. I thin-"
Steve stops comprehending what she says after that, too occupied with his own thoughts. How could he have been so oblivious? The hiding in the back? The constant redirection to him? Her inability to speak to you? She wasn't giving you the opportunity to talk to him; she was too nervous to talk to you herself. Robin had a big fat crush on you, and it was so obvious now that he was paying attention.
Steve's ecstatic. Now all that was left to do was set you two up.
---
This was easier said than done. For a few days, he tried and tried to come up with a way to get you two together without telling either one about the other's feelings. However, this was nearly impossible with how much you two insisted on avoiding each other, each dealing with their own heartbreak, still believing their feelings weren't reciprocated.
At some point, the frustration became too overwhelming, and he reached the conclusion that he was going to have to out at least one of you to the other. His first thought is to just put you two in a room, drop the bomb, and then leave you to it. Steve decides against this, fearing you would both be too awkward to move forward from this.
He contemplates who could handle the situation better and decides that telling you is probably the right choice. Happy with the prospect of finally freeing himself of this burden, he gives you a quick call, informing you of his need for a conversation, and then makes his way over.
---
"Why did you have to tell me? Why couldn't you tell Robin? Now I have to make the move, and I'm probably gonna embarrass myself soo bad!"
After getting over the shock that Robin reciprocated your feelings (at least to Steve's suspicions), you relatively quickly became frantic, mad that he put you in a position where you had to be the one to act. Why couldn't he tell her? After all, is she his best friend? And he knows that you like her, for sure. Even though he swears to be sure about Robin's feelings as well, he never actually heard her admit it out loud.
"Don't get your panties in a twist. I have the perfect, foolproof plan."
"Ew, don't say that word."
"What? Plan?"
"Shut up. So what's your great plan?"
The relationship between you and Harrington has gotten a lot more casual and familiar since your "date." You never expected it, but you are really glad to call him a close friend now.
"Okay, listen up. You're going to come to Family Video tomorrow, bring some takeout, or better prepare some food yourself, and tell Robin you and I made plans to have lunch together."
"Wait, I thought you had the day off tomorrow?"
"I have. So you are going to be all disappointed, having prepared all that food for nothing. So you will offer to share with her instead. It's the only logical thing. You wouldn't want to waste the food."
"That's the worst plan I've ever heard. That's so lame, Steven!"
"Don't call me Steven. And it's brilliant! You will get a nice romantic date without making it look like you're doing too much."
You're still not convinced, but you don't have a better idea, so you agree.
---
"Hi, Robin!"
"Oh, hi, hello, what's up?" What the fuck? Get yourself together. "What are you doing here?" Robin has been paranoid since Steve voiced his suspicion about her feelings for you. If completely oblivious Steve could see it, could you too?
"Is Steve here? We have plans for lunch." You demonstratively hold up the two lunch boxes you brought.
You spent hours yesterday racking your brain about what to prepare. What would Robin enjoy the most? What can you cook without messing it up, especially if you're this nervous? All while you also considered what you could eat without embarrassing yourself. You don't want to sit there and have half the contents of your burger fall all over your hands. Or get food stuck between your teeth without noticing. And what could you transport over without ruining it in the process? Would the food stay warm for long enough? Or should you pick a meal that is served at room temperature? In the end, you called Steve and cooked the first thing he suggested, following his advice not to overthink it.
"Steve is not scheduled for today."
"Oh."
"That's so typical, this dingus. I'll call him; give me a minute."
"It's fine. Would you maybe like to share? My lunch break will be over till he gets here. I mean, I already cooked and brought the food. If you don't have any other plans, we could share it. Unless you don't want to. That would be fine as well. I don't-"
"I want to."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Alright, nice. Let me just set up."
"Oh, of course, I'll show you the break room. Follow me."
The awkwardness dies quickly. Talking to Robin with the knowledge that she likes you back makes you a lot more relaxed around her. There aren't any weird periods of silence, and you feel a warmth and connection you never felt before.
With that, you finally work up the courage to ask her out. After years of pining, you are really about to do it.
"I wanted to ask you something, and it is totally okay if you say no. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. If you don't want to, we can just forget that I ever asked, so-"
"Just spit it out. Rambling is my thing, and you are not allowed to steal that." Robin tries to lighten the mood and take away from your clear nervousness.
"Would you like to go out with me sometime? Like, on a date."
"But Steve said- WAIT! I am the one you like?"
"Yeah."
"Damn."
"So?"
"I would really like to go out with you."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
#robin buckley x reader#robin x reader#x reader#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things x you#robin buckley#robin buckley x you#robin buckley x y/n#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#fluff#oneshot#reader insert#fem!reader#female reader#lesbian reader#wlw#fanfiction#fanfic#mutual pining#idiots in love#no use of y/n
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You Don't Scare Me | Eddie Munson
Day Fourteen of Kinktober
Summary: Eddie is used to scaring most of the people who walk through the Haunted House in the old Starcourt Mall. He's determined to make you squirm after you walk through and show no signs of being scared by him.
Pairings: Scare Actor!Eddie x Grumpy!Fem!Reader
wc: ~2.8k
Warnings: This is porn with some fluff so as always 18+!!! MDNI!! Sexual themes, fooling around with a stranger, fingering, oral (f receiving), public sex acts, choking and domination (if you squint)
Thank you all for sticking with me, it is literally almost the end of November, so I am thankful that y'all are still around to read! And to my lovely friend @darknesseddiem for inspiring me!
You hated Halloween more than anything. You couldn’t understand your peers' desperation to get black out drunk in someone’s basement, dressed up in the smallest garments of clothing they could find (and excuse it as some sort of costume). But, you were new to town, so when the girl you met through the Hawkin’s high journalism club, Nancy, you remembered her name to be, invited you to the haunted house that went up on the edge of town, you hesitantly agreed to join her and her group of friends. This might be your way to meet some new people. If opportunity knocks, you suppose you better answer.
-
A nervous shiver trickled down your spine as you and Nancy leaned against the Wheeler station wagon, engaging in small talk about your move from Nevada, and about the new friends you were about to meet. You were told of a girl your age with short strawberry blonde hair, and a personality almost as eclectic as her fashion sense. And of a boy that people called the hair, a charmer in all ways women, but that he had been warned not to pursue you. You flashed Nancy a devilish smile.
“What if I want him to pursue me, Nance?”
“He’s a serial dater, Y/N. And I can say from experience, a much better friend than a conquest.” If Nancy’s response wasn’t enough to deter you, her history with Steve Harrington was. You presumed fucking around with your only friend’s ex isn’t a great way to stay friends.
You formed your group with warm smiles and welcomes; you absorbed the three of your new friends’ banter. You felt out of the loop, but not unwelcome. The addition to Robin and Steve made you feel hopeful for the future of your friendships.
The four of you made your way through the painted asphalt of the abandoned Starcourt mall that hosted the Halloween festivities. The once shiny new sliding doors were pried open and painted black to welcome the bravest teens into the makeshift haunted house in the west wing of the mall. Robin and Nancy had already jumped at the few scare actors positioned around the entrance, Steve flinching every so often. You stood stone cold, unphased by the kids that were paid far too little money and wore far too much fake blood for their own good.
You bravely volunteered to go through the foggy entrance first; Steve followed behind you with Robin and Nancy hiding into each other’s shoulders. The fog opened up to a desolate looking carnival with old rusted rides festooned around the large room. You sauntered around the space, taking awestruck gazes at the crumpled metal and grim lights looming over you. You found the narrow corridor that led you to the next room.
Suddenly, a tall figure popped out in front of you, eliciting shrill shrieks from your party behind you. You felt your heart jump into your chest, but not out of fear.
The figure that stood in front of you donned a ripped striped shirt and tight black jeans. You had a perfect view of his long arms and the tattoos that danced across them. You looked up to the figure’s face and were met with beautiful brown eyes glinting with an unreadable shine. His pale skin had been made even paler with white face paint, and his eyes were bracketed around black smudged triangles. You could tell how plump the boy’s lips were even when camouflaged under a black painted frown. His visage was framed with dark curls. He looked more majestic than frightening. But as much as your heart thumped, you weren’t scared, so you pretended not to be impressed with the person blocking your path. He put his muscular arm up on the wall, further blocking you in. As your friends panicked behind you, you simply flashed your bright eyes up at him and you slipped under his outstretched arm. You continued on without giving so much as a slight glance back, encouraging Steve to do the same to pass the stranger. The man dropped his hand from the wall and pressed himself back into the hallway, his eyes never leaving your figure.
You were going to be the death of him, he could tell already.
“Holy fuck, Y/N! That was kind of badass!” Robin exclaimed, her and Nancy trotting back to rejoin you and Steve. “That fucking freaked me out.”
“What is so scary about a guy in clown makeup?” You shrugged. Little did you know the very person that you were talking about, the guy that had made your heart jump to your throat, was following closely behind you, separated only by the prop walls he had helped build days earlier.
-
“Eddie, you can’t abandon your spot!” His skeevy boss yelled to him when he caught him trawling through the small walkways. “You gotta be the first scare, man! There’s nothing else in that corridor!” Eddie didn’t look back at the pudgy man with the combover shaking his fist.
“Fuck off, Brad. I gotta do something” Eddie murmured. He needed to find you. He was willing to give up this shitty side gig and go back to solely dealing again.
Eddie was overwhelmed with confusion. He was enchanted by you, but your lack of reaction in a haunted house of all things… But the way you looked at him. There was something different in your eyes. You were bored. But you looked at him with an invitation to cause trouble. You terrified the hell out of Eddie Munson, but he couldn’t get enough.
-
You wandered aimlessly through the shabby makeshift walls. Eddie watched as you stood stoic scare after scare that normally made anyone jump. His eyes trained on your figure. Eddie needed to see more of you. The boy tapped a small boy dressed up like a gremlin waiting to pop out of the corridor you were walking through.
“What are you doing, Eddie?” the boy hissed.
“Just move, man. I need your spot” Eddie used his hidden strength to move the boy. His eyes stayed peeled, waiting to see your curly hair to come into his vision.
-
You strolled through the crowded corridor, giggling quietly at Steve and Robin’s third argument of the night.
“I’m telling you, Buckley. You couldn’t be a scare actor because you would literally scare yourself.”
“Umm, says the guy who literally jumped into my arms when that demon animatronic went off back there. And like, aren’t you scared of clowns? You were made for beauty pageants, Steve.”
“Let me tell you someth-”
Steve’s words were stolen from his mouth as Eddie dashed out of his hiding spot. His sleek form lunged towards you, pushing you back towards the back wall. His hands caged your head, leaving you nowhere to look but his hypnotizing eyes. They looked aflame with passion and frustration. For the first time of the night, your breath hitched. Your chest heaved softly, waiting, wondering, hoping for what the boy was going to do (to you) next.
A small smile flashed across the curly haired boy’s painted face. He slammed his hands against the wall beside you, eliciting a short gasp from your plump lips. You didn’t ignore the glance that Eddie took at your lips before he pushed himself away from you, and onto the wall across from you. He bowed and gestured your friends foreward, leaving you to the back. You could barely peel your eyes away from the figure in front of you, but you pulled yourself from the wall and his punishing stare. You shook him out of your thoughts as you strode towards your friends, now far down the hallway. You felt a hand on your wrist and you were pulled away and into the darkness.
Suddenly, you were met face to face with the mystery that had been following you, crammed into a small corridor. His body loomed over yours, too close, but somehow not close enough. His breath fanned over you and you couldn’t help but feel faint. He was even more beautiful now that you had all the time in the world to examine him. He licked his lips and you couldn’t help but mirror him with a gulp.
“Why aren’t you scared of me, doll?” his low voice rasped. You couldn’t speak, your throat closing. You tried your best to open your mouth, but Eddie’s thumb running across your lower lip shut it. You mustered up all of your energy.
“I’m not one to scare easily,” you sighed. You felt small underneath him, like he could devour you whole.
“You seem scared now, sweetheart. Do I scare you?” Eddie stepped closer to you, his hand finding his way to your hip. His eyes were dark, but there was a tenderness there. He silently told you that you could leave at any point and he would still thank you. “Or, do you feel exactly what I’m feeling?” Eddie didn’t need to wait for a response, your eyes were glowing with want-need.
Eddie pressed his painted lips to yours, pressing his chest against yours. His hand ran up your side, and to your neck. His skin burned against yours and you wished you could wear his hand like a locket for the rest of time. You kissed him back feverishly, hoping that with every move of your lips, Eddie fell more enchanted with you, like you had with him. Lucky for you, Eddie had jumped off the deep end and was ready to drown in everything that is you.
Eddie pulled away and let out a small giggle. A sound that made your heart stop.
“You have paint all over your face now.”
“I don’t give a fuck” you breathed as you pulled Eddie’s face to yours. The kisses grew from explorative to heated. Your hands snaked up to wrap around the nape of the beautiful boy’s neck. His tongue traced your bottom lip in a desperate plea to explore your mouth further. You opened your mouth in permission and his tongue met yours with a moan. Eddie slotted his jean clad thigh between your legs and pushed into you further. You felt the heat radiating off of your core between both of your jean clad bodies. You huffed into Eddie’s mouth, begging for more.
“You want more, darling? You don’t even know me.” Eddie teased. “Plus… I’m at work! What would my boss think?” you wouldn’t let the boy’s words get to you. You couldn’t think about your situation too much.
“Well, seeing as you’re the one that pulled me in here, it sounds like this whole ‘stranger’ and ‘at your job’ are your problems not mine… plus, I could go, if you want me to?” You attempted to push Eddie off you, but his grip on your neck and hip became desperate. You smirked at his reaction.
Eddie let go of you in favor of fiddling with your jeans. He let out a low chuckle that rumbled through your whole body.
“So, you’re a brat, hey? I should have fucking known. Too bad for you, I’m too curious to see what you sound like when you fall apart under me.” You moaned at his words and you pulled him back into a searing kiss. His hands found their way through your jeans and panties. You let out another breathy moan into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie’s hands and mouth paused and he detached his lips from yours.
“But, you gotta be quiet doll. Can’t have anyone find us, and someone’s gonna be back here in like 5 minutes to kick my ass so…”
His slender fingers slipped through your folds, you can’t help but shudder. Eddie bit his lip to suppress his baritone moans. “So wet already… and just for me?” he praised, making your pussy flutter. He pushed one finger into your waiting entrance, leaving you no time to adjust. Your knees buckled in sheer pleasure. You bit your lip hard, trying to suppress any moans threatening to spill out. Your hands moved up from Eddie’s neck to his luscious locks and you pulled on them to bring his mouth back to yours. He braced against you with a small ‘tsk’.
“I wanna watch you, doll. I wanna see how good you look when I finger fuck you.” His hand flew to your mouth to prevent the groan that was paired with your eyes rolling back.
Eddie was talented. His pace was unrelenting and he knew the right angle to bully your quivering cunt at. He spread you open further by adding another finger. You shook, feeling so satisfied, so full. You could barely keep your cool that you had been desperately clinging to. The waves of heat flooding your system.
“P-please-”
“Eddie”
“Eddie.please.” You cried.
“Hmmm, I love it when you say my name.” The boy cooed. His words hurled you closer and closer to your climax. Your legs began to shake around Eddie’s hand. A frustrated gasp wracked your body as Eddie removed his fingers from your desperate pussy.
“Eddie-” You were hushed by the tall boy’s frame dipping down so his head was at your waist. You looked into his beautiful brown eyes quizzically, and he returned your look with a mischievous smile. He pulled your jeans and soaked panties to your knees and pulled his face into you.
“I need to taste you, please?” You were on the edge, overstimulated and desperate to cum. You shook your head violently and without a second to lose, Eddie’s mouth was on your sensitive core. You yelped at the sensation of his perfect lips sucking against your clit. A large hand snaked from your wait to your mouth. The lack of air sent lightning bolts through your body. Eddie hummed into you and you collapsed over him.
“Taste so good-”
“Y/N” You answered for him. He hummed into you again, sending shock waves through your legs. Your breath hitched and Eddie could feel you tense around where his fingers once were. He stared up at you as he gave one last suck onto your sensitive bud.
You saw white, your head felt like it was full of cotton. The waves of pleasure were too much for you to comprehend. Your pussy clenched around nothing and you cried into Eddie’s hand. You could feel the vibrations of him moaning as he licked up your essence. He expertly worked you through your climax, to the point where you were deliciously overstimulated. He waited for you to pull him off of you, licking you clean in the process.
You couldn’t help but giggle when his presence loomed over you again, a large spot around his mouth and chin bare of face paint. He wiped his mouth and you could finally see the plump pink lips grinning back at you.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N” You couldn’t help the blush that grew across your cheeks.
“Nice to meet you, Eddie.”
Eddie picked up the bottom hem of his shirt and wiped your mouth clean of the black smudges of paint. He grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it.
“Can I maybe get your number, so I can eat- I mean take you out on a proper date?”
You smiled up at the gorgeous boy. He had rooted through his back pocket and held a sharpie in his hand triumphantly. You took it from him, and wrote your phone number on your arm in your neat writing. You blew on his arm, sending goosebumps straight through his heart.
“You better call me after that, Eddie. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you didn’t”
“Well, lucky for you, I have no intention of leaving you alone.”
With a smile, Eddie grabbed your hand and led you through the back corridors and gave you a sweet peck. He pushed you through a small entrance so you were back by Robin’s side.
-
With a scream, you reunited with Robin.
“Holy fuck! Where the hell did you go?!”
“I got lost. I took some wrong turns and ended up in the back corridors somehow.” You were thankful that the room was dark so you were able to hide your red hot cheeks. Maybe Halloween wasn’t so bad… and you might just have a change of heart about Hawkins after all.
-
Eddie sauntered back through the narrow maze of staff hallways, a shit eating grin plastered on his smudged face. It faltered slightly as he entered the male dressing rooms. Brad stood to greet the teen. His sweaty brow furrowed and his fatty chin wobbled in anger.
“Munson you’re-”
“Fired.. Yeah, I got it.” the metalhead chuckled.
Eddie grabbed his bag with a smile and a bow to the chubby man, who was now furiously flattening his greasy comb over. He wiped his face with an old bandana tucked into his back pocket. He slammed out the shabby doors that lead to the abandoned mall, blowing carefully on his newest tattoo that you had given him. If it were up to him, he would drive himself to his friend’s tattoo parlor and get it inked permanently on his arm, like you had been tattooed on his heart.
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hello
Can you write one where the reader have money probleme that she hide form Eddie and she have a job to afford her basic need but she still struggled and when Eddie birthday come she do more hour to afford to buy him he gift and she even skip meal to not loose any money and Eddie end up finding this and they have a big argument during his birthday because of that and stop talking for week but he end up coming back and they have a happy ending
For You
Eddie Munson x reader
Warnings: TW disordered eating (sorta)
A/n: I always look forward to your requests because they challenge my writing and creativity
Fifteen Days Before Eddie's Birthday
****
Fifteen days until Eddie's birthday, thirteen days until your next paycheck, bills are due in sixteen days and you only have $125 in your bank account. Exhaustion pulls at your eyelids as you try to do the math in your budget journal.
"Groceries are almost $60, gas is $40," you whisper to yourself. You let out a sigh. You'll have $25 left over after just two things and still need a present for Eddie and pay bills afterwards. You scribble across your journal "fuck" over and over again, trying to think of how you'll get the money.
You could just ask your boyfriend for some help with groceries or bills. You could skip a gift all together and just take him on a cheap date. But you don't want him to worry about you, these are your problems not his. It's embarrassing to see how bad your finances have gotten.
"I need more hours," you say to yourself.
Twelve Days Before Eddie's Birthday
***
Your feet ache painfully as the twelfth hour of your double starts to sink in. The memory foam on your flats has worn off from the constant working, walking, standing. You push through it, taking yet another table in your section. A smile attempts to plaster itself into your face as you do your generic server greeting, but you end up coming off delirious. It doesn't help that your stomach growls loudly every time you hand a customer their food.
Nine Days Before Eddie's Birthday
Dinner was a mix of different customers' orders that had been sent back to the kitchen. As usual they were perfectly fine, just not perfect for the customer. Despite looking like a rat sneaking food in the kitchen, you felt better having something in your stomach after several days of not eating. You'd made $400 in tips so far and you weren't going to waste any of it. You had stopped driving to save on gas money and hadn't shopped for groceries in over a week.
Four Days Before Eddie's Birthday
Eighty hours. That's how much you have worked so far. Your apartment was a distant memory at this point. You'd stay at the dinner you work at to nap between shifts. Almost every coworker you have has given you one of their shifts out of pity. It was worth it in your mind. $800 in tips and your paycheck in two days was guaranteed to help with your boyfriend's gift and rent. With any luck you might have enough money to buy enough groceries to last a couple weeks.
Two Days Before Eddie's Birthday
Wind rushes past your face as you walk as fast as you can to cash your paycheck. Ninety hours of work translated to a $220 paycheck on top of all your tip money. It was just enough for you to get the perfect gift for Eddie and still afford rent. You slam the check in front of the bank teller a little too excitedly. She gives you a nasty look for startling her, but none of that matters to you. After the bank you head straight to your real destination, the record shop.
It's filled with every kind of music you can think of but you only came for one thing. Near the back of the shop was an aisle of classic rock and metal records from the 60s and 70s. Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, and Kiss were some of Eddie's favorite bands and you had found a gold mine of vinyls he doesn't already own. You made a list of albums Eddie had talked about getting and peruse the aisle, picking up anything on your checklist.
The cost of Eddie's gifts was just over $300 not including the gift wrap and birthday decorations you bought for his party. You went slightly over your budget, but there's still enough for your rent. You might have to live off of customers' sent back orders again but that thought is at the back of your mind at the moment. All you can think about is your beautiful boyfriend's face when he sees his gifts.
Eddie's Birthday
***
Party streamers, balloons, and a big Happy Birthday banner decorate your tiny apartment. A Walmart sheet cake sits on your coffee table with two candles, marking your boyfriend's 20th birthday. All of Eddie's D&D group huddle around eating pizza brought by Mike and sipping coke, possibly spiked with rum, brought by Eddie.
"Thank you guys for coming to celebrate my boyfriend's birthday! A special thank you to Mike and Eddie for providing extra food and drinks since I forgot to get them. Everyone put your gifts in a neat pile next to the couch," you announce.
Eddie sits on the couch gleefully as he's presented with presents. His lopsided birthday crown lays gently on his messy brown curls and his smile is from ear to ear.
"Let's see what you cheap asses got me. Which one should I open first?" Eddie teases. He pulls you into his lap and inspects the different boxes and gift bags.
"Oh, do me first," Dustin raises his hand with a smile before Eddie finishes his sentence.
Dustin's gift is a set of metal Ral Partha DnD figurines. All of them have intricate details and look amazing, even to a non DnD player like yourself.
"Thanks Henderson, we'll use these for our next campaign," Eddie says, turning them around in his hand.
The next few gifts follow a similar theme minus a random deck of cards and a new rolling tray, which your boyfriend was very grateful for. Finally Eddie gets to your gift.
"Saved the best for last," Eddie says, giving you a little pinch on the butt. You quickly swat away his hand with a giggle.
Your boyfriend removes the tissue paper from your bag at a dramatically slow pace. He pulls out the first record, Black Sabbath's Technical Ecstasy vinyl from 1976. His chocolate eyes widen with kid-like joy as he inspects it. He gently places it on the coffee table next to the cake and brings out another vinyl, Judas Priest's British Steel album.
"Babe," he whispers as he quickly rifles through the bag, "these are amazing! How did you know I wanted these? It must have cost a fortune for you to get all of these."
"You talk about them literally all the time, baby. I just made a list of the ones you talked about the most and made sure you didn't have them yet," you reply. Eddie smothers you with cheek and forehead kisses, not caring about anyone else in the room.
"All of your gifts suck compared to her's," Eddie jokes.
The rest of the party was spent eating cake and talking about future plans. By the end of the night your apartment was a mess of wrapping paper and deflated balloons. After everyone files out for the night, Eddie stays back to help you clean up.
"Sorry about the mess babe, I forgot how gross these guys are," Eddie apologizes while picking up scraps of paper.
"It's fine, I'm just glad everyone had fun."
You stack the leftover pizza into your fridge along with a final slice of birthday cake. The inside of the refrigerator looks depressing and barren with just those two items in there.
"Damn, you need groceries," Eddie comes up behind you. You reflexively shut the fridge door.
"No, I'm good for the next few days. I'll just live off the leftovers till they're gone."
"Let's just pick up a few things while the store is still open. You'll have to get them eventually," Eddie lightly flicks your forehead.
You walk out of the kitchen and sit on the couch, fidgeting with your fingers nervously.
"I can't!" Your voice cracks a little at your sudden outburst.
"Why not?" Eddie moves to the seat next to you. He wraps a gentle arm around your shoulders.
"I have to pay rent tomorrow and I won't have enough left for groceries. I'm fine though I've got leftover pizza and whatever gets sent back to the kitchen at work!" All the words just spew out for your mouth before you can stop yourself.
"Don't tell me you spent most of your money on my birthday gift," Eddie scoffs. The look in your eyes is the only answer he needs. "Honey, why do you do this? You did this last Christmas and every holiday before that!"
"I'm sorry, I was just trying to get you something nice Eddie," your voice cracks as you speak.
"You could get me a flower off the sidewalk and I'd be happy. I don't need $300 worth of records or a new guitar! And I don't need a girlfriend who can't even be a functional adult and watch her spending."
Eddie jumps from the couch, gathering all of his things except the records.
"Return them," is all he says before he walks out of your apartment.
The deafening silence is broken by your gentle sobs as you sink deeper into your couch. You did all of this for him, but he was right. You're twenty-years-old and can barely keep enough money for food after buying an obnoxious amount of unnecessary things. You overworked yourself just to go broke again.
You look over at the solitary bag of records sitting in the middle of the room. I know what I have to do.
One Week After Eddie's Birthday
***
The records are gone, your rent has been paid, and your fridge is filled with groceries. Even with everything full and paid off, you still felt empty without Eddie. You haven't tried to call him since the argument, but you thought about him every day. Still, you continue to focus on yourself and work and save.
Your mind is distracted from the topic of your ex by a busy mid-shift. Customers just spill into seats faster than you can say ‘Hello’. The hostess seats another person in your section when you turn your back. You give her a look of frustration, knowing it's not her fault, but she mouths a little ‘sorry’ before going back to her stand.
Your body moves on autopilot to your new table as your feet scream in agony. You're just about to do your greeting when you see who's sitting down. Eddie.
“I-uh, Hi,” you say with a confused stutter.
“Hey,” Eddie replies in a nervous tone.
“What can I get you?”
“I wanted to talk. I know you're working, but just pretend like you're talking my order.”
“Eddie, I can't. There are tables that need my attention,” you sigh.
Eddie fiddles in his pocket for a minute before pulling out a $50 bill.
“$50 tip and all you need to do is listen,” Eddie pleads, sliding the bill towards you. You silently put the tip in your server book and wait for him to speak.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you or shame you for buying me such a nice gift. I just wanted you to be okay and take care of yourself and not worry about getting me so expensive. I love you so much and I know I don't deserve a second chance because of how I acted. I just wanted to say I'm sorry for everything. I was the immature one not you.”
“I can't do this right now, Eddie.”
“You don't have to respond, just know that I'm sorry.” Eddie gets up to leave but you stop him.
“My break is in ten minutes, I'll meet you outside,” you say, before walking away from his table.
The next ten minutes are excruciating. All you can think about are his words. What do you say? Go fuck yourself? I forgive you? Your mind races all the way up until your boss lets you off on your fifteen.
The parking lot is almost completely empty except for Eddie's dingy van sitting in a more secluded area. You walk over and knock on the passenger side window. Eddie quickly unlocks the door for you.
“Thank you for meeting me,” Eddie says with a smile on his face.
“I have a lot to say, so just be quiet for a sec,” you reply, getting into the van. “You were right, I needed to become a functional adult. And even though you were right, you were still wrong for yelling at me and making me feel like shit. I forgive you, but it's going to take more than that to fix our relationship.”
Silence fills the small space of the van before Eddie speaks again. “I'm sorry, I really am. Can we start over? Not pretend like this didn't happen, but rebuild trust and love for each other?”
“I would love that.”
“Okay,” Eddie grins from ear to ear.
“Okay,” you say, not being able to hide your own smile.
#black reader#reader insert#chubby black reader#black girl reader#black!fem!reader#fanfic#chubby reader#reader insert fluff#eddie x fem!reader#eddie x y/n#eddie x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson x black!reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x plus size reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female reader#tw disordered eating
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