#stranger things x

[jasm1nelily]

you’re the only woman

pairing : eddie munson x fem!reader

word count : 3.7k

summary : eddie munson has a huge crush on y/n l/n. which really sucks, because she’s his friend, and she’s way out of his league... but god, she’s so gorgeous. 

notes : slight spoilers for s4 :) so incredibly slight. that’s all <3 this is for all my eddie lovers in light of some... recent developments.

ALSO! requests are open :) check out my pinned post for more info on that. enjoy!

Eddie Munson has a crush. 

Which is weird, because he hasn’t had a crush on anybody for what must be at least two years. Not for any specific reason. He’s just never allowed himself to feel those things for someone else, because 1) he always gets rejected, anyhow 2) there are more important things in his life. Like Hellfire Club. And actually graduating. In that order, of course. 

But as much as Eddie wants to focus only his campaign, on recruiting new members, on at least passing the same math class he’s been in for who knows how long, he finds himself thinking about her a lot more often than he wishes he would. He tried to deny, deny, deny, for as long as he could, until it got ridiculous and he realized how stupid he sounded attempting to rationalize this odd set of emotions to be anything other than what they so plainly were. 

Eddie Munson has a crush. 

And she’s so beautiful. She’s got a gorgeous smile, she’s got a pretty laugh. Her voice is so perfect that sometimes when he reads things in his head he imagines that it’s her reading it instead, which has actually become a successful studying tactic in recent weeks. So maybe this crush has been a little helpful in areas of his life that he needs help in, but the hassle of it all is much more evident. 

His favorite thing about her is that she doesn’t care for traditional labels, like loser or jock or stupid shit that movies made up to divide the high school population. She eats lunch with him and his boys, she cheers at the football games on Fridays, she participates in art shows and debate competitions on the weekends. And where somebody else would be outcast for trying to be so many things at once, it works for her, because it’s her, and anybody who even tried to shun her would be, for lack of better words, an idiot. 

Here’s the thing. Eddie Munson has a huge crush on Y/N L/N, and he stands no chance. 

And when he says no chance, he means absolutely zero. Zero as in zilch, as in it’s a pipe dream that he could ever be with her, as in the probability of her saying yes even if she had just hit her head in a serious car accident would be 100 to 1. 

This is the main reason Eddie has been attempting to convince himself that he doesn’t actually have a crush on her, because if he allows the idea to take root in his mind he knows he won’t be able to let go of it. He won’t even talk about it. Saying the actual words would make it real. Too real. 

Except, his lips tend to get a little loose when he’s not fully in control of his facilities. As in, when he’s high, which is at least once a week; unfortunately, he’s never alone when he smokes, which makes the chance that it’ll slip out much higher. For this reason, he always makes excuses not to get high with her. He lies about being busy, and if he actually agrees he doesn’t smoke enough to lose his ability to reign in his thoughts. He always regrets it when he does the latter, because even if he’s not super high, being even the slightest bit inebriated around her is a recipe for disaster. Y/N always looks prettiest when Eddie is high. Not that she doesn’t look pretty no matter what. 

But today is a special day. It’s the last day of school before Spring Break, which usually would suck because the whole day Eddie would just be looking forward to the final hour. But Y/N’s parents are dragging her on a trip for the entirety of the break, so Eddie promised to make tonight extra special for her—as in, they’ll smoke, drink, listen to music, and all around have as lovely a time as is possible for him when he’s alone with her. They weren’t actually supposed to be alone, but everyone else canceled last minute. Very convenient. Sometimes Eddie wonders if all his friends know about this crush of his without him having to actually say anything. 

Spoiler alert: there is actually not that much fun that is possible for Eddie when he’s alone with Y/N, because half the time he’s wishing he could be kissing her, and the other half he’s afraid he’ll say something dumb and fuck things up. But he’s not about to let her leave without seeing her for as much time as possible, so Eddie decides he’ll just have to grow some balls and act normal and be her friend even if he really really wants to be more. 

Eddie doesn’t realize he’s been sitting in one place zoning out until he hears three loud knocks on the trailer door, accompanied by a voice that’s all too familiar, though he can’t make out the words. He blinks a few times and glances at the clock—he’s been here for 20 minutes. Maybe he should cut down on the, you know, drugs. It’s probably not having a great impact on his attention span. 

“Eds, hurry up. It’s cold!” 

Fuck. She’s here. 

Eddie bolts up from his uncle’s Lazy Boy and heads straight for the door; not, of course, before checking his hair in the mirror by the TV. Looking good, Munson. Let’s hope Y/N thinks the same. (Who is he kidding?) 

When Eddie opens the door and sees her standing there, he kinda sorta wishes that he canceled too. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look so good. Sure, he’s seen her in that really cute cheerleader outfit, which he calls stupid to her face but literally dreams about at night, but it’s nothing compared to this. 

“What? You didn’t think I was giving this back, did you?” she greets, grinning playfully as she pushes past him and into the trailer. God, he feels like he’s about to burst, because she’s wearing his sweater. He let her borrow it a week or so ago because she spilled something on her own, but never got the chance to see her in it because he was headed to Hellfire Club, and he’s not late to that, not ever. 

Eddie swallows and curses himself for standing there like an idiot before he closes the door. “That’s my favorite sweater.” It actually isn’t, but now it is. 

She laughs and swings the plastic bag full of snacks and whatever else onto the table. “Too bad. It’s mine now.” 

No complaints there. He’d literally pay her to wear it everyday. 

Eddie does pretty well for the first hour or so. All Y/N wants to do is talk and eat chips and drink the shitty alcohol she managed to score off her older brother, and that’s safe for him, so Eddie has no issues with that. She talks a lot, which he loves. She’s talking about this movie she really liked as a kid when it happens for the first time. 

“Fuck, what’s the name? I can’t remember the name. This is gonna annoy me all night,” she sighs, squeezing her eyes shut as if that’ll help her come up with it. Her legs are crossed and she’s sitting on the couch, a can of whatever it is she’s been sipping in hand. Eddie has one of his own but he hasn’t been able to drink much of it. He’s too nervous, which seems contradictory seeing as being a little inebriated would make him less nervous, but he can’t bother to try explaining the intricacies of his mind. 

Eddie laughs a little at her, which prompts Y/N to open her eyes and give him a slight glare. “What’s so funny, Munson? I’m trying to remember!” 

“My bad, my bad. Please, carry on remembering.” 

She huffs. "Fuck, this is so irritating. Why can’t I just remember?” 

Y/N heaves another sigh, placing her drink on the side table as she stretches her arms upwards. Before Eddie can really react, she free falls her upper body right toward him, landing squarely with her head on his thigh, and her arms on either side of her face; one hand brushing against Eddie’s side, and one hanging off the couch. 

Eddie wants to die. 

She looks pretty, looking up at him with those big eyes, smiling even more brightly than she usually does—or maybe it just looks that way, who knows. Either way, Eddie hopes he doesn’t look as starstruck as he feels, because if he does he’s sure she’s gonna burst out laughing. 

“Woah, Eds, you’ve got really nice eyes. How come I never noticed?” Y/N reaches a hand up to grab at his face, and her fingertips leave scorching marks on his cheeks. 

“Um,” he stutters, hoping she’s a little too off-her-rocker to notice. “Thanks.” 

She giggles. “You’re such a dork.” And then her hands fall and she sits up and it’s all over. 

Eddie decides he’ll drink a little more from that point on. 

It’s about an hour before anything of that nature happens again. By that point, Eddie’s finished his can of piss and he feels it coursing through his veins, making him a little more loose, a little more him, because he’s so anxious right now that Tipsy Him is kinda just Normal Him. The two of them are sitting outside now. Y/N’s lying on her side on the picnic table by his trailer and he’s seated on the bench, listening to her retell a story about being kicked out of a grocery store. 

When she finishes, she goes quiet, and Eddie wonders if maybe he should tell a story now. What about that one where he almost fell out of a rollercoaster in Minnesota? Or that time he was chased by 5 middle schoolers through the woods? Or—

“Wanna smoke?” 

Never mind. That sounds like a better idea. “Hell yeah.” 

They go back inside; to Eddie’s room, to be exact, which he cleaned up a little before her arrival. Just enough that it doesn’t look like he did it just for her, because even if Y/N’s never been to his house, everyone knows Eddie doesn’t exactly keep his abode spick and span. It’s a stereotype, but it’s pretty much true. 

“Give me a sec. I pre-rolled some, just gotta find em...” he trails off, digging through his comics and other nerdy shit as he tries to remember where he put his tin. 

“Oh my god, your guitar! She’s beautiful,” Y/N breaths, shuffling past him and toward his one true love. He smiles to himself as he continues to look, trying to ignore the urge to turn around and watch as she no doubt admires his baby. Finally, Eddie discovers that he’s hidden his tin underneath his pajamas from the previous night, which means it’s on the floor. He probably could’ve cleaned that up, but oh well. 

Soon, the two of them are sitting on the floor, shoulder to shoulder as they lean against his bed and share a joint. Eddie doesn’t think he’s been so content in a while. 

“Hey, why don’t you have a girlfriend?” 

He almost chokes on the smoke that leaves his lips; just at the right time, he thinks, because if she’d said it while the joint was still in his mouth he would probably be keeled over trying to cough it up out of his throat. Y/N giggles at his reaction and lays her hand on his shoulder, making him turn to look at her. 

“I mean it! You’re so handsome, Eds. And you’re probably the only guy I’ve never heard make a gross joke about girls.” 

Eddie blinks back at her for a moment, unsure of how to react to that—maybe he should correct her, because while he’s never made a gross joke about a girl in front of her, he’s definitely done it otherwise. And then it hits him—

“I’m handsome?” 

Y/N stares with this incredulous look in her eyes, like she’s somewhere far away and is struggling to get back to reality, where she’s just called Eddie Munson handsome and is sitting next to him smoking a joint. 

“Yes, dork. You didn’t know?” 

Eddie is completely and utterly terrified that he’s about to say the wrong thing. Even worse, he’s blank on words right now—his mind is essentially a wiped blackboard, and all that’s left are vague scribblings of time long past, shadows of sentences that he can’t make out. And he’s staring at her with bug eyes and she looks so cute waiting on his response, because she doesn’t look at all phased by the long stretch of silence that has followed her reply. 

Finally, he thinks of something, and maybe it’s because he just wants to fill the quiet or because the high is starting to hit, but he doesn’t really ponder too hard about the consequences of his actions before he says—

“I really wanna kiss you right now.” 

It’s Y/N’s turn to go mute, and go mute she does. Her expression is frozen in a smile, glossy eyes, eyebrows raised. Eddie feels as if he is going to explode. Chunks of his brain are going to splatter against the posters on his wall. They’re going to find his blown off fingers underneath the bed, next to his porno magazines. His eyeballs will fly out the window and the neighbor’s dog will eat them. 

“Kiss me, then.” 

BOOM. Blood splatters all over his carpet and his bedding and Y/N screams, cradling what remains of his mutilated body in her arms—

Oh. 

“What did you say?” Eddie’s voice comes out as a mix between a croak and a whisper as he gawks at her face. She smiles and inches a little closer. The space between them is so small that he can smell the fruity alcohol on her tongue, smell the potency of the weed on her breath. It’s like a fucking aphrodisiac. 

“You wanna kiss me, right? Then do it.” 

It takes him a few more seconds to register her request; a few seconds too long, because before Eddie knows it she’s closed the distance. Her lips are suddenly slotted against his and there aren’t any fireworks, sparks, tingles, nothing; it just feels so incredibly right, like this is the only thing in the world Eddie is meant to be doing at this moment, at any moment, for all time. 

She tastes like a bitter candy, a result of the different substances she had consumed that evening. It tastes really fucking good. Eddie hopes he tastes just as good as her, just as intoxicating, because maybe then she’ll need him in this moment just as much as he needs her. 

Y/N hums to herself, something Eddie isn’t sure what the meaning of is, but understands when she pulls away just a moment after. She keeps her forehead touching his, and their noses are still poking one another as well, which Eddie appreciates because he wants to remain as close to her as humanely possible so the spell doesn’t break. 

“That was really nice. You’re a good kisser,” she whispers, smiling so hard he’s sure her cheeks are aching. She looks him in the eyes and her pupils are blown up so big that they look like black holes, sucking him in. He’s happy to go along with them. 

“I’ve wanted that for so long,” Eddie confesses, almost regretting it when she giggles softly. 

“Me too.” Eddie feels like he should die right now, because he’s already in Heaven. 

“Can we do it again?” His heart is pounding so hard he's afraid she can hear it.

“Wait.” 

She’s quiet for a second, before she pulls away even further and takes his hands in hers. He misses the contact of her face so close to his, but in her eyes Eddie can tell there’s something she wants to say. Rather, something she wants to hear. He has an inkling he knows just what that is, but an inkling isn’t enough—he’s not sure anything would be enough to make him admit his feelings, because the idea of being rejected by her and losing her in his life forever is something he just can’t fathom. He needs her. Even if it means he can only have a part of her, he just needs something. 

“Eds,” Y/N starts, her tone more serious than it had been before. Yet, her pretty smile hasn’t fallen, and her pupils are still staring right into his. He feels like his pupils are pretty big too, even though he can’t see them, and he wonders if he can see more of her like this—as if his pupils being larger would let him absorb more of her into his memory. 

“Do you remember that one time i got mad at you? Like, really mad. That time we didn’t talk for a week. Remember that?” 

Eddie nods. “Of course I do. Worst week of my life.” 

Y/N’s smile gets a little wider but she tries to bit it back—it doesn’t work. “I said I was mad because you ditched our movie night for Hellfire. But that wasn’t the actual reason. The real reason was something really dumb that’s gonna make me sound so fuckin’ stupid, but I’m gonna tell you anyway. Ready?” 

“You never sound stupid.” Alright. Enough with the buttering up, idiot. You don't have to say every compliment that comes to mind. 

But she just smiles a little harder and ignores it. 

“i wasn’t mad at all. I was actually just sad, because I really wanted to spend time with you, and then I was upset because I realized I shouldn’t be that sad about that, and then I was too scared to talk to you... because I realized, I really like you, Eddie. I really, really like you. I wanna spend every second that I can with you. I even considered joining Hellfire just to have extra time.”  

Eddie’s mouth has gone dry. 

“You don’t have to say anything. But I would really like you too, or else I might cry,” she adds, and he can hear in her voice that she is definitely not bluffing. The last thing he wants to see is her crying, especially if he’s the cause, so he starts to rack his mind for a way to properly articulate all the emotions and complex feelings and thoughts he has surrounding her. 

Every time you look at me it feels like somebody has a hand wrapped around my chest and they’re squeezing really fucking hard, trying to make my heart pop out of my throat or something. Every time I’m doing something and you’re not with me I’m thinking about you. I want to be the person you go to when you’re sad, the person who makes you happy when you’re sad, the person who never makes you sad, because I want to love you so much that you can’t stand it anymore and you love me back just the same, because I can take it. There will never be a moment where I can’t stand it. I want to make you the happiest girl on Earth, maybe in the whole galaxy. Standing next to you I feel like a person. I feel real. You make me feel real. I can’t ever let you go. 

But instead of saying all that, Eddie just smiles awkwardly at her and squeezes her hands. 

“I think I might be in love with you.” 

His smile falls a little because she’s made good on her promise; a few tears are running down her cheeks, but her lips are pulled into such a big grin that he would be remiss to think she was anything but extraordinarily happy. Like so happy that her face might split in two. And Eddie feels the same way, except he’s managing to keep it buried underneath the butterflies that swarm violently in his abdomen. 

“Good. I think I’m in love with you too.” 

Never did he think he’d ever hear her say those words. But here he is, slightly drunk and pretty high, which is a state of mind he promised himself to refrain from being in when he’s with her, and he wonders if maybe she’s just saying all this because she’s not sober. But before he can ask, she leans into him, and presses another kiss onto his lips—not as violent or passionate as before, but just as sweet, and a little more loving. 

“I’m really glad everyone else canceled. If we hadn’t smoked alone, I wouldn’t have had the balls to do any of that.” 

“I’m really glad you told me how you felt first. If you hadn’t, we’d be sitting here in silence for at least another hour.” Eddie laughs when she hits his arm just hard enough for him to know she’s just playing around, and finds that he can’t stop laughing, even when she leans into him and they fall to the floor, his arms wrapped around her body as she lies on top of him. 

“I’m so happy right now,” he whispers, not really saying it to her. “I’m so fucking happy.” 

Eddie Munson has a crush.

And she’s so beautiful. She’s got a gorgeous smile, she’s got a pretty laugh. Her skin is so soft that sometimes he just traces shapes on it to help himself fall asleep when he’s lying next to her. She supports him in everything he does—at least, everything that makes some sort of sense, otherwise she’ll aptly call him out on his stupidity. And he loves her for it. He loves her for everything that she is, everything that she’s not, everything she tries to be. 

Eddie Munson has more than a crush. Eddie Munson is in love. 

And thank god she loves him back. Otherwise, he thinks he might die. 

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem #fem reader #Female reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson x you #fluff #eddie munson fluff #personally i love it #i think this is so cute

[iwantmystupidlifeback]

Stages of grief ft billy Hargrove x reader

You and billy have been on edge for weeks, rumors spread that you slept with Harrington and he’s been fooling around with some girls. Both rumors were false but both of you had a nagging feeling. You both didn’t want to be betrayed or taken advantage of so it ate both you up. The time you both spent together was short do you the pain of either thinking one laid with an enemy, the interaction at school were short. When either didn’t visit in the night you both had thoughts of the other being with that other person. Because of the tension for months both of you snapped at first starting it off as a couple who needed to fix their problems to a full on screaming match and both saying things they didn’t mean and putting either under the bus, you went on the fact he was a player before the dating phase to him saying you slept with Harrington since day one because you both hung out more before the dating. “ ooo so that’s what you think y/n “ you glare back “ it’s what I know billy” he groans/screams “ you really playing this card y/n ever fight, I can’t catch a break” you slam ur hand down “ I can’t catch a break either because you can’t get over your pride about Harrington” the fact you said his name sent billy even further over the edge, he got in your face through his clenched teeth. Nothing but venom dripped from his mouth only for you to poison it more. He called you every name in the book going as far as to comment on your looks only for you to spew back a rush of hateful comments both you brought family even personal secrets into the argument. By the time the last word left your mouth it all was a blur, broken items and car doors slamming, the news of the break up spread like wildfire. You both didn’t even dare look at the other feelings nothing for the first month. You only knew of a new girl on his arm from a class mate and the fact you cut off everyone seeing as they brought the rumors and lies. By the second it didn’t hit either till you looked in the mirror and finally broke, billy didn’t break till he laid next to a girl. He looked over not understanding why he really expected you to be right their. The night you both fought flooded both your minds. The feeling of a void entered both your chests, you broke sliding down your wall as tears fell in floods as your heart started to hurt. You screamed out and held your chest feeling it all hit, the man you wanted to spend your life with had left and laid with another, the thoughts of what he said broke you more, the pain was unbearable. Only miles away billy sat in his car near the lake you both would go, bottle in hand and tears flooding his eyes. He’s head lean on the seat and his fists clenched the bottle, he had been seven drinks in and the more the liquor filled him the more it unlocked the night and his his passenger seat was empty, his back seat had no shoes, his dash didn’t hold the picture of you, the necklace you gifted didn’t dangle from the mirror. The stages of grief set in. Denial was the period of not really believing it till, one entered their room to find the one thing from the other gone or when one wanted to tell the other something only to remember the situation, the empty sheets,the pillow that lost the other scent only for Anger to set in the thought of the others betrayal and lack of trust, the fact you both spent a year together just to not trust the other filled each with rage. Bargaining the guilt for what was said, the shame, the anxiety all set in at once, most nights crying was over what was said both feelings evil and dirty for saying something they didn’t mean only to have depression set in hard both turning to a drink or cigarette to calm the nerves or hide the sadness neither would dare step in each other’s paths, everyone knew because the once bright school was sitting on the edge of their seats. By the fifth month acceptance wasn’t a find yourself or a recreation it was the sadness finally setting in, the acceptance that the other wouldn’t return or dare too because it’s Been half a year. Billy finally broke after seeing you at school,

he never looked at you but when he finally got the courage he stared at you seeing your eyes lifeless, you looked frail and tired, as you sat with friends you looked disconnected. Broken. It made him want to move across the room and hold you and fill you with life again only to see you stand and leave the room. He wanted to chase you. He got up moving to the hall seeing it empty as you walked down it, he moved faster only wrapping his arms around you from behind head on top of yours confused you froze only to sink into him once the familiar smell came to you, you spoke softly as if to speak a little louder would make him disappear “ billy”. He pulled you into a empty/ abandoned classroom. You dropped your bag turning hiding in his chest as his grip tightened, neither spoke knowing each pain, you cried lightly on his chest as he kept you close, only hearing each other’s heart beat rapidly and breathing fill the room. You look up into his eyes find them clear ice blue clear just everything you missed and loved about him on full display, the slight stumbles of hair his freckles in their funny order on his lightly pink cheeks, you didn’t know what came over you but up moved up quickly kissing him deeply, you’ve shared kisses with him but this one was full of the grief, the void, the lost time to lost months. Only to have him lean on a desk with his hand behind your head lips just as connected. It was like you both spilled your broken hearts out onto the floor, the muscles that were tenses now relax the tears that were held in now falling freely. Both pulled away gasping “please “ was all you could muster before both held each other in a hug “ forgive me “ even through it all you both stood speechless. Seeing sides of the other you’ve never seen. You hold his hand as he pulls you closer kissing your nose gently and humming “ why did we do this” you only smile “ young and dumb “ he cups your cheek, you feel his rings on your jaw and smell the cigarette as he kisses you deeply “ young, dumb but never apart” you hum cupping his hand on your face “ till death” he smiles “ do us part”.

#billy stranger things #billy handsome #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x gender neutral reader #billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove stan #stranger things #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove x you

[songbirdsingingthings]

Dangerous Waters - Steve Harrington x Reader

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WARNINGS: Angst to Fluff, Mentions of injury, Language, S4 E7 spoilers

Summary: Hunting down a portal that Vecna had caused wasn’t your idea of a fun night and it most definitely didn’t help that you and your boyfriend, Steve Harrington, are at odds because of a previous argument. However, all of that gets put aside when Steve gets dragged underwater and is put in the direct line of danger.

A/N: Again, spoilers for S4 E7! Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3.8K

The water rocked the little fishing boat with such severity that it just added more to the already tense situation. With Nancy and Robin at your side and Eddie sitting across from you, Steve was as far as he could possibly be, which was fine with you. You didn’t even want to talk to him anyways. Just looking at him made you frustrated beyond belief.

Silence settled on the boat as Eddie and Robin used oars to push the lot of you closer to where the compass in Nancy’s palm was pointing towards. You white-knuckled your flashlight, as did Steve, looking over the side of the boat for anything out of the ordinary. While the beam of light was steady, you were anything but. An opening into the upside down was one thing – an opening into the upside down located at the bottom of Lover’s Lake? Insane. Utterly and completely insane.

A couple of little fish flitted by, twirling around and gliding by, both headed in the same direction. You frowned, but kept your light on them. A day ago, you probably would have cooed at the scene and thought stupid little romantic thoughts. ‘Aww, those fish are like me and Steve! Even though we don’t take the same exact path, we’re headed in the same direction, together.’ Now you wished a catfish would come up from the depths and swallow one of the minnows.

“Woah,” Nancy says, breaking the quiet and startling you, “woah, woah, woah, slow down.” The compass in Nancy’s hand rattled and spun, clearly upset at whatever was going on. Quickly, Eddie and Robin pushed their oars in the opposite direction to settle the boat into a stand-still. Nancy leaned forward with the compass, as did everyone else, both you and Steve shining your flashlights onto the tool. Dustin’s true north compass was going haywire.

“Whoa…” Steve breathes, unbelieving of the situation. Then, the walkie talkie crackles to life.

“Guys, what’s going on? Come on guys, talk to me, what’s going on?” Dustin’s voice sputtered through the speaker as Robin picked it up.

“Uh, Dustin, your compass has gone from wonky to wonky with a capital ‘aah!’.” Robin said, explaining what was going on to the best of her ability. You were still so engrossed in the flitting of the needle that you didn’t notice Steve silently slipping off his shoes.

“Steve? What are you doing?” Nancy’s words snapped you back to reality and forced your eyes on Steve. You watched in confusion as he set his sneakers underneath one of the little boat benches.

“Somebody’s gotta go down and check this out.” Steve said, like it was common sense. “Unless one of you four can top being a Hawkins High swim co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years, then…” He said trailing off. You were shaking your head unconsciously. No, no, no. As much as your boyfriend pissed you off right now, so much as to want him off the boat, you did not want to send him down to the murky depths of Lovers Lake.

“Four years.” You state, drawing everyone’s attention to you. “I’ve been a certified lifeguard for four years.” Steve rolls his eyes slightly.

“Y/N, this isn’t a competition.”

“Four years of being a certified lifeguard and five years on the swim team.” Steve frowned and his eyebrows narrowed.

“Like I said, this isn’t a–”

“I’m going down there. I can top your qualifications, so I’m going to look.” You say definitively. You make quick work of your shoes and socks and slip off your sweater, leaving you in just your jeans and top. Steve shakes his head and begins to stand up.

“It’s gotta be me. No complaints, all right?”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Eddie says, his voice feeling far away. “I do not wanna go down there.” He wordlessly gets a plastic bag out from who knows where, fitting a flashlight inside. As Steve began taking off that yellow sweater which, much to your chagrin, you adored on him, you stood up to match his stance. Eddie held the light up, which both you and Steve grabbed at the same time. The two of you matched your gaze, neither of you backing down.

“Steve,” you say his name through gritted teeth, “I’m going down there, whether you like it or not.” Without a second thought, Steve brushed back a strand of hair that was in your face behind your ear, touching the shell of it lightly. You hesitate slightly, letting Steve have the advantage as he slipped the flashlight from your grasp.

“No. I am.” Quickly, Steve shoved his sweater into your hands and dived off the side of the boat, rocking it slightly, and disappeared into the dark water. You stand still in shock for a few moments, looking at your friends. Nancy’s eyes were wide and Eddie was trying to light a cigarette but was thwarted by Robin plucking it from his fingers and tossing it into the lake.

“Y/N… you can sit back down.” Robin suggests. But you can’t. You just keep standing, your flashlight on the spot where Steve descended into the murky depths. You’re frozen and will not thaw until your boyfriend comes back.

It was like the world had halted its course of movement and time was no longer relevant. You stood stagnant for what seemed like mere seconds but also hours. Your thoughts were only proven wrong when Robin asked for a time check.

“Where are we at Wheeler?” She asked, her voice flimsy.

“Closing in on a minute,” Nancy said, trying to keep her tone steady. You heard Robin mumble an “okay,” but kept your eyes trained on the water lapping at the fishing boat. Not speaking, just thinking about that argument you and Steve had just yesterday.

“Steve, is it so crazy that I want to go to meet your parents?!” You exclaimed, hands in fists by your waist.

“Obviously not Y/N, it’s just that- that I’m not sure it’s the best idea.” Steve says, exasperated, his hands in his hair. Your eyebrows knit at his comment.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that my parents aren’t the kind of people who you’d really want to meet.” Steve said, looking anywhere else than where you were.

“I’m your girlfriend, they seriously don’t want to meet me?”

“No, that’s not it–”

“Or do you not want them to meet me?!” You exclaim, folding your arms tightly.

“Now you’re just putting words in my mouth.”

“You’re not denying it!” You shout, raising your arms and letting them fall to your side.

“Y/N, Y/N! You’re not listening to me! I’m just saying it’s not the best idea!” You shake your head and sigh.

“I didn’t think you meeting my parents was the best idea and it was fine.” You explain, a serious and slightly shake tone accompanying your words.

“Y/N/N, your idea of a bad idea is your mom showing all your baby pictures and your dad getting into an in depth conversation about his research.” Your face heats as your brain replays the memories of when Steve first met your parents. You can still see him sitting next to your mom as she leafed through several pictures and recounted early memories of your childhood. You can see Steve at your dinner table, actively engaging as your dad went into the nitty-gritty details of his research focus, nodding his head at all the right times and asking questions. Your fears were quelled, so why wouldn’t his be?

“Do you think I’m going to fuck up that badly?” You ask, stone faced. Behind Steve’s eyes, you could see him scrambling for a way to answer your question, but he comes up with none. Scoffing, you turn away from him before he could see the tears in your eyes. “Screw you, Harrington.”

You heard someone drumming their fingers on their leg in impatience, another one huffs, and the third bounces their knees. You were about to ask for another time check, but a loud and large splash caused you to stumble and fall into the boat, your heart lurching in your chest.

“OH CHRIST!” Eddie yelped, everyone else gasping in fright. The splash revealed Steve, treading water and taking deep breaths.

“I found it,” he says, swimming closer towards the boat.

“You found it?!” Nancy exclaims, relief and surprise evident in her voice.

“I found it. Yeah. I found it.” Steve sort of sputters, breathless and now hanging onto the side of the boat. You could hear the sighs of relief behind you, but the only thing on your mind was the boy in front of you. Shimmying your way towards where Steve was, you kept your eyes on his – and his were on yours.

“Dustin, you are a goddamn Einstein. Steve found the gate.” Robin gushes, communicating with the trio of freshmen on the shores of Lovers Lake.

“It’s pretty wild,” Your boyfriend is, giving you sort of a lopsided and breathless smile. “It’s more of a snack-size gate than the big mama gate, but still, it’s pretty damn big.” He’s panting through his words and you almost let out a laugh at his comment, but it’s shoved right back down your throat when Steve unexpectedly gets dunked back underwater. You’re already on the edge of the boat, but your three friends behind you clamor towards where Steve was. Almost as quickly as he was submerged, he popped back up with a severely confused look on his face. He looks at the water, then back at you. Before either of you could utter a word, he’s violently dragged back underneath. And this time, it doesn’t look like he’s coming back up. He was the minnow that got swallowed by the catfish.

“STEVE!” You scream, disbelief circling your mind. But there was no time for that. Instantly, you shuck the blanket that you had wrapped around yourself and dive head first into the murky waters. The second your body hits the water, a chill works its way through your bones. The water is cold, almost to the point of freezing, and Steve was nowhere to be seen. You look around, your floating hair obscuring your vision for a few moments. You use your arm to brush the strands away, and that’s when you see the dim, but glowing, red light stemming from the bottom of the lake. Pitching yourself downward, you began your descent, kicking your legs and using your arms to push you further and further towards the portal. No matter what Steve had said, whether it was snack-size or a big mama, the portal was terrifying. Any movie or comic book trying to create a sort of sci-fi replication of the portal could never do it justice. Tendrils seemed to wrap around it and the atmosphere was dark on the other side. But Steve had been dragged through there, and so, you will follow.

The portal had swallowed you and spit you back out about five feet into the air. You waved your arms around, trying to catch your bearings, before gravity slammed you back into the Earth. You gasp, the fall knocking the wind out of your lungs, before scrambling to your feet. And that’s when you see him. Steve, on the ground, shaking his legs and grasping at the tendril that's wrapped around his throat. Biting at his torso, biting at his legs, constricting his ability to breathe were bats of the sickest kind. Your eyes flit from side to side, trying to see if there’s something you could use to swat them away. Lo and behold, an oar was resting just meters away from Steve. Running, you snatch it into your hands and aim directly for one biting into his exposed chest. The oar makes direct contact with the creature, knocking it a few feet away before it limps and flies away into the distorted sky. Steve meets your eye and then glances sideways to where you had a feeling, Robin, Nancy, and Eddie were standing behind you. 

“Hey there,” you murmur. And after that one little comment, a fight breaks out – some of Hawkins High’s best and brightest versus creatures from another dimension. Piece of cake. After a while of swinging and swatting, bludgeoning and beating, Steve finishes off the last of the bats by ripping its body apart and tossing its bottom half sideways. His breaths are heavy as he spits blood from his mouth, but he’s okay. “Steve,” you whisper, running to him but staying away an arms length. You rake your eyes over his torso, inspecting all of the bites and checking to see if he was truly alright.

“They took about a pound of flesh,” he remarks, his fatigue evident. “But other than that. Never been better,” he says. You nod and press your lips together, because you can already feel the tears welling in your eyes. Steve leans down just a bit to fully meet your eyes. “Y/N. I’m okay.” His brown doe eyes meet yours and the softness of his face makes yours crumble. You let the floodgates open and wrap your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest. One of his arms wraps around your waist, his other hand coming up to brush your hair, twirling some of the strands with his fingers. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” He whispers. Whether he was saying it reaffirm to you or to reaffirm himself, he was there and alive.

“Uh, do you think these bats have rabies?” Robin’s question strikes you so much that you pull away from Steve, looking at her with a confused expression. Steve’s face mirrored yours.

“What?” Steve asked, squinting his eyes.

“It’s just that rabies are, like, my number one greatest fear. And I think we should get you to a doctor soon because once symptoms set in, it’s too late. You’re already dead.” Robin’s momentary word vomit gets interrupted by the chittering of more bats, the swarm landing to guard your exit from the Upside Down. The five of you move to compact yourself closer together, assuming a sort of battle formation.

“Alright, that’s not that many.” Steve suggests, tilting his head a bit causing his hair to flop forward. “We can take ‘em, right?” It was a shame Steve didn’t knock on wood. All of a sudden, it seemed like thousands of those bats were headed right towards your group, ensuring that leaving the Upside Down would not be achieved through the snack size portal.

“The woods, come on!” Nancy says, taking off towards the spindly trees. Without a second thought, the rest of you are off, following Hawkins High’s “it” girl into the treacherous-looking forest.

After a while of running, the swarm eventually caught up to your rag-tag group, causing the five of you to clamber under a boulder, the Upside Down’s version of Skull Rock. You tried to keep your breathing even as you heard the shrieks of the tentacle bats and the cracking of thunder. To put it simply, this place was utterly terrifying.

“Oh… okay. That was close.” Robin said, relieved as she crawled out of Skull Rock’s cover.

“Too close,” Eddie remarked, following Nancy as the rest of you walked back into the clearing of the woods. 

“Oh, sh…shit.” Steve stammered, all but collapsing onto the boulder. You whip your head around.

“Steve?” You ask, stopping in your tracks. “Oh my god.” Your eyes fall on where one of the bats had latched onto him, revealing a deep gash where blood seemed to have been leaking from for quite a while.

“I’m fine,” he says, trying to pass it off.

“No, you’re not.” You say pointedly, walking right up to him to get a better look at the wound. “Good god Steve, you’re losing blood. Sit down, come on.” You help your boyfriend slide down the rock to sit down on one of the smaller rocks. Assessing it quickly, you see that it’s a deep puncture wound with no signs of the bleeding stopping. You think, just for a moment, before starting to rip the lower portion of your shirt off to serve as a bandage.

“Okay,” Robin says, settling down next to you, “So the good news is I’m pretty sure woozieness is not a symptom of rabies. But if you start having hallucinations or muscle spasms or you start feeling aggressive like you want to punch me, let me know.”

“Robin,” Steve grits out.

“Yeah?” She asks, hopeful yet worried.

“I kinda wanna punch you.” You laugh despite the situation and Robin joins you.

“Sense of humor is still intact. That’s a good sign.” Robin remarks.

“Yeah,” Steve nods, a strained smile on his face. Finally, you manage to fully rip the fabric off. Holding it up before Steve’s wound, you’re thankful it looks big enough. You meet Steve’s eyes and the both of you give a hesitant nod.

“Okay,” you say as Steve peels himself away from the wall, giving you the ability to wrap the cloth around his body. “You ready?”

“Yep. Fire away,” Steve grimaces. You try to be as efficient as you can, wrapping the cloth as quickly as possible while making sure it’s as painless yet thorough as it could be. However, now was the hard part – tightening it.

“Sorry,” you murmur, cinching it and wrapping it back around towards his abdominals.

“It’s okay,” he manages, but you can tell he’s moments away from yelling out in pain.

“Is it too tight? Not tight enough?” You ask before folding the remaining strands away.

“No, it’s good.” He assures you. Getting what was essentially a go-ahead, you tuck away the cotton and smooth it out. “Thank you.” You’re quiet for a few moments.

“I don’t have to meet your parents.” Is what you finally say, shocking him a bit.

“Huh?”

“If you don’t think it’s a good idea, then I don’t have to do it. You and your feelings are more important than my preconceived notions of how relationships should work.” You tell him.

“Y/N–”

“Steve, really.” You give him a small smile. “I understand that cookie-cutter relationships aren’t really a thing, so we don’t have to do everything or anything that other people do.” Steve sighs as a smile works its way back onto his face.

“When I was saying it was a bad idea, it had absolutely nothing to do with who you are and everything to do with who they are. Well, my dad really. I want you to meet my mom. Maybe when we get back and things aren’t all…?”

“Scary? And thunder-y? And with a lot less bats?” You suggest, causing Steve’s smile to break out into a full on grin.

“I love you.” He says, taking your face with his hands and pressing a searing kiss to your lips. It’s soft but with a hint of something fierce. You both know you have company around so there wasn’t a chance that the kiss could be an introduction to a full on make-out session, but it said everything that those many kisses could say.

“I love you, too.” A big boom of thunder makes you flinch, bringing you back to the present. Helping Steve to his feet again, you wander out from under Skull Rock.

“So, uh… this place is like Hawkins, but with monsters and nasty shit?” Eddie asks, his voice echoing throughout the clearing.

“Pretty much,” you affirm. As Eddie’s about to hop down from whatever rock he was using to survey the land, Nancy stops him.

“Wait, watch out for the vines. It’s all a hive mind.” She warns.

“It’s all a what?”

“All the creepy crawlies around here. They’re like ‘one,’, or something. Step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna.” Steve explains. Eddie nods his head and frowns.

“Shit.” He starts to make his way down, avoiding all of the tendrils.

“But everything from our world is here except people, right?” Robin wonders.

“More or less,” you nod.

“So we could go and grab weapons, food, anything we need from the police station right?” Robin suggests.

“Yeah, dunno if Hawkins is gonna have grenades, Robin.” Steve says, a deadpanned look on his face. “But maybe guns.”

“We don’t have to go all the way downtown for that, though.” Nancy interjects. “I have guns… in my bedroom.”

“Seriously? You’re not lying?” Eddie asks with a skeptical tone.

“That’s a perfect idea. Reminds me of when I was with you and Jonathan, fighting that thing the first time around.” You remark, gaining a reminiscent smile from your friend.

“Yeah, well, you almost shot me with the one she gave you.” Steve remembered, nudging you. A playful smile erupted on your cheeks.

“Who could blame me? We were hunting monsters and there you come in, barreling through the door like a bat out of… well,” you say laughing a bit. Steve’s gaze is on yours again, doe eyes back in full effect when a jean-jacket vest collides with him.

“For your modesty, dude.” Eddie says. Both you and Steve gave him a look, but before you could rip Eddie a new one, the ground began to shake. Nancy, Robin, and Eddie clung to each other to try and remain upright but ended up laying on the ground whereas Steve hooked an arm around your waist and held you to him, bracing the both of you against skull rock. You could feel his breath hot against your neck as he panted, keeping the both of you safe as he dug his feet into the ground. Thankfully it stopped before harm could really have been done, but the wailing of bats made your group focus up. Even as the shaking stopped, Steve kept his arm fully encircled around you, keeping you close.

“Should probably get those guns,” you breathed.

“Yeah guns seem like a good idea to me.” Eddie agreed.

“Yeah, me too.” Robin says. You twist around in Steve’s grasp to kiss his jaw. He nods and lets you go, putting on the jean vest swiftly.

“Then what are we waiting for?” He takes your hand in his and begins the journey towards the Wheeler’s house. You know what you’re up against is anything but a walk in the park and that monsters roam in every corner and facet of this dimension. But somehow, you feel peace in the way that Steve holds your hand. You feel his callouses, the skin tough from wielding that baseball bat to ward off demogorgons and demodogs. You’re able to trace the indents and lines, pretending for just a second you know what they mean. And when he squeezes your hand? You know he’s with you – forever and always, through thick and thin. 

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve x you #steve x reader #steve x y/n #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington stranger things #steve fanfic #steve fic #steve fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x #stranger things

[hellmunsonfire]

Read before you follow.

🦇Hi everyone. I'm Eddie Freak Munson. But call me what you like.

🦇 22 yo • he / him

I live in a caravan and I have my own band. I don't make much money, so sometimes I work at a mechanic's shop. I'm a guitar God and a D&D Master. I'm a Sagittarius and I'm usually high. You can always ask me questions and send me a dm anytime, anywhere.

I like fantasy novels and horror/thriller films, and I love talking about them. I love the dark, I have a collection of cassettes of metal bands. But I'm mostly a Metallica, AC/DC, Iron Maiden, KISS, Guns and Roses fan.

Apart from metal, I like to listen to hard rock, blues, rock and roll, rap, heavy metal, rock and sometimes country music. Feel free to suggest me the music you want me to cover.

But I'm also a fan of animated films. I spend most of my day at home playing guitar and watching films. But I know how to make you feel good.

There are rumours that I'm a vampire.

Favourites: Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, Game of Thrones, Jigsaw Movie Series, The Pretty Reckless, Halestorm, Black Veil Brides, Resident Evil series (game and movie) Last of Us, Fantasy games, Shrek, Ice Age, Poetry, literature, crime novels, Stephen Hawking, AHS, SPN.

About Admin: I am 23 years old and if you are under 18 please do not interact with me. I post nsfw stuff and sometimes write/share smut stories. If I realise you are under 18 I will block you. You can text me in advance about your relationship with Eddie.

Kinks: neck biting, daddy/babygirl, oral, facefucking, blowjob, cowgirl, king/princess, master, praise,light bondage/blindfolding. Ask for more.

No-go's: anal, non-con, dacryphilia, threesome.

Twitter acc:

#eddie munson #eddie munson rp #new rp #roleplay #eddie munson stranger things #joseph quinn #joe quinn #joseph quinn rpf #stranger things #james mcavoy #metal #metalhead #guitar #st vecna #eddie munson smut #steve harrington #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #stranger things x

[leclercstarrs]

ʀᴏʙɪɴ ʙᴜᴄᴋʟᴇʏ, ɴᴀɴᴄʏ ᴡʜᴇᴇʟᴇʀ - ᴅᴀᴛɪɴɢ

in which you’re dating robin buckley and nancy wheeler.

 Nancy’s love languages are acts of service, physical touch, and words of affirmation.

Robin’s love languages are giving gifts, physical touch, and quality time.

Nancy can get really jealous, always protecting you and Robin.

Robin rarely gets jealous, but she can get insecure when it comes to your interactions and relationships with other people.

You have to reassure them that you love them and only them.

Movie nights every Friday, usually you or Robin pick the movie while Nancy picks the snacks.

Robin gives you discounts and sometimes lets you get free movies at Family Video.

You and Robin visit Nancy while she’s working on the newspaper, she acts like it annoys her but she secretly loves it.

You and Robin also join her while she’s investigating for the paper.

Shopping is very chaotic, Robin is rambling and adding random sugary treats into the cart with you while Nancy is annoyed at the two of you and making you stick to the list she made. 

Robin loves taking you and Nancy to drive-ins.

Nancy loves taking you and Robin to the local diner.

You show up to all the Hawkins High games with Nancy, supporting Robin and the band.

They treat you like a princess.

You’re not leaving the house if you’re sick. Nancy makes you soup and checks your temperature while Robin sets up a movie and cuddles with you. 

They worship you. They could, and would, literally stare at you forever. They just think that you’re the most beautiful person on earth. 

You sewed the patches onto Robin’s jacket.

Robin will buy the most random yet cute things for you and Nancy.

Nancy makes you and Robin study, the two of you only agreeing because she promises to give you a special award later.

You’re best friends with Steve and he always gives you terrible advice about your relationship.

#fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x #stranger things #nancy wheeler x robin buckley #nancy wheeler x reader #nancy wheeler x you #nancy wheeler x y/n #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x nancy wheeler #robin buckley x y/n #ronance #robin buckley x nancy wheeler x reader #nancy wheeler x robin buckley x reader

[weirdmorefics]

Halloween? Really?

Steve Harrington x reader blurb

Warnings- none

Pronouns- She/Her

Word Count- 350

Summary- You are very excited for Halloween Steve, however, is not. 

My arms are piled high with Halloween decorations and masks. Robin has to hold the door open for me to enter work.

“You guys are late, I had to manage the phone, customer questions, and the cashier.” Steve groans out, “And you carpooled without me!”

“Don’t be a baby,” Robin laughs as she walks up to the counter.

I quickly barrel past Robin stuff falling off the pile I’m holding and I dump it all on the counter.

“What is all this stuff?” Steve asks confused.

“Duh, Isn’t it obvious Harrington?” Robin says it like it is the most obvious thing in the world.

“Halloween decorations!” I smile widely throwing my hands up in celebration.

“So let me get this right you two went Halloween shopping and that’s why you’re late? Seriously, Halloween shopping?” Steve says not understanding why we were so excited.

I am quick to respond by listing all the reasons why this season is the best. “Come on Steve Halloween has all the best stuffff! It has candy, apple picking, carving pumpkins, hay rides, costumes, scary movies-”

“I thought you would have had enough of scary by now Y/N. I mean why do you want more scary stuff when we have already experienced real truly terrifying stuff.” Steve interrupts me trying to reason against all our spooky Halloween decorations being put up at work.

I roll my eyes and whisper quietly “What if I wear the sexy Halloween costume of your choosing. Would that make Halloween the best?”

Robin tries extra hard to hear what you said but is not successful all she sees is Steve’s eyes double in size. Steve immediately grabs some Halloween decorations to put up and Robin stares in shock as Steve suddenly gets over his dislike for Halloween.  

“Come on Robin! Hurry up and get decorating!” Steve rushes.

Robin turns to me with her jaw still open in shock “How on earth did you get him to do that.”

I smile, “Close your mouth, Robin, you are going to eat a fly.” I skip away soon after to help Steve with decorations.

Support Me Here

#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x you #steve x you #steve x y/n #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfictio #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fandom #stranger things x reader #stranger things x #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things steve #stranger things s4

[rilinhyl]

Pant.Night

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie

[imfinereallyy]

you can pry happy endings from my cold-dead hands. It can be the most heart stopping, gut wrenching fic that has every existed and I will read every drop of it if I get my happy ending. I have had enough painful endings in real life, give me happy in my fantasy world. It can be at the last second, it can be a single sentence, even a single word. Give me all the angst and hurt in the world for 500,000 words, but please give me the comfort I need in the ending. please and thank you.

#do I love angst? yes. but also need to be happy in my delulu world for five seconds #sometimes you need domestic fluff to soothe the burn #fan fiction #ao3 #hurt/comfort #steddie #stranger things #lumax #byler #ronance #steve harrington #Eddie Munson #archive of our own #wattpad #robin buckley #steve x eddie #happy endings

[lokis-army-77]

Private Viewing

Camboy!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 6.8k

What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it?

Warning: 18 +. This is pure fucking filth. Spit, masturbation (m and f), use of vibrators and fleshlight, choking, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (f reviving), fingering, voyeurism? Soft!dom Eddie, tell me if I'm missing anything.

Thank you @lesservillain for giving me this wonderful idea. 💗 and @munson-blurbs for figuring out if I should do this for Steve or Eddie and for helping give me a title💗.

Masterlist

Nothing but slick sounds filled your room, the occasional deep moan calling out from your laptop speakers accompanying your own sweet cries. The guy on the screen, Ed as he called himself, or DungeonMaster as he was known on Only Fans and Twitter, was fisting his cock in his heavily ringed hand. He was putting on a show for more than ten thousand viewers but the way he stared down the camera with those dark eyes made you think he was watching you, fucking his hand to the way you were pumping your fingers in and out of your soaking wet pussy. 

You had stumbled upon his Twitter three months ago and he immediately captured your eye. The way his tattoos wrapped around his pale skin, how he wasn’t all lean muscle like the other OF guys, his tummy by no means a six-pack but he still looked strong enough to sweep you off your feet with ease. His moans were heavenly and so was the deep timber of his force as he praised you through the thirty-second video clip. It was all enough to convert you from your usual consumption of smutty books to the infamous Only Fans sight. 

Since then, his streams and videos have become the one and only thing you get off to. And like then, tonight was no exception. 

You were so close to the edge, Ed’s moans spurring you on. Your fingers move at an almost inhuman pace in and out, in and out. 

“Rub that clit for me, baby. Need you to cum.” He groaned, head resting on his shoulder as he continued you pleasure himself. 

“Fuck!” You gasp as you rub your clit with your free hand. Your rhythm is horribly off but it doesn’t matter, you are so close to cumming. So so so close. “Please,” you beg out into your empty room. You aren’t too sure why or what you are pleading for. More friction? More fingers? More words of encouragement from him? Maybe you’re asking to cum? 

It’s like he had heard you through the screen as he moaned out, “That’s a good girl. Just like that. Doing so well for me. You gonna cum baby? Yeah? Me too. Want me to count for you?” He nods his head lazily. “I knew you would baby. Okay. Five.”

You want to cry.

“Four.” 

The strings tugging inside you are becoming taut.

“Three.”

You feel like you’re going to explode. He’s counting too slowly.

“Two.”

The tears are flowing now.

“One.”

You let out a strangled scream.

“Cum baby. Do it, now.”

Your walls clench around your fingers and your legs snap shut, trapping your fingers. Every muscle in your body is shuddering as those strings snap and your release comes out in a stream, wetting your hand and the bed. Your hearing has gone, there’s a ringing in your ears but you can faintly hear Ed cumming as well. 

With watery vision and slow movements, you turn to face your laptop screen just in time to see his tattoo-covered chest painted with milky white ropes of cum. 

When the ringing subsides you hear him say more clearly, “Thata girl. Always make me cum so much.” He takes a towel and wipes off his chest and stomach before adjusting the camera view to the shoulders up. “Get you some rest baby, I’ll see you on Thursday.” 

And then the live is over. 

Slowly, sluggishly, you remove your hands from between your legs and begin the now regular clean-up routine before going to bed. 

…

Three days later, Thursday rolls around, and thus begins the fall semester of your junior year of college. It’s a groggy morning, everyone is tired and very unenthusiastic about having an 8 a.m. advanced music composition class. 

You had struggled to get out of bed at six this morning just to get one of the dorm showers first before they were all taken up. Luckily two of the five were open and you were able to get to class a whole twenty minutes early, even having time to grab coffee at the on-campus Starbucks on the way.

The music building was old and the tables you and your fellow students sat at were even older. It all added to the sleepy ambiance. Your eyes drooped and you yawned every time someone else did, the black coffee you had chugged not doing anything for you. 

You’re only awoken when your professor, a stout old man with a very severe receding hairline, slams open the door to the classroom a little too hard and it hits the brick wall, creating a loud, startling bang. 

He apologizes before making his introduction.  He then gets out a clipboard with a sheet attached and hands it off to a girl in the front row, instructing everyone to fill in their name and school email for his role sheet.

It’s only once you’ve finished and passed the clipboard on, that you notice the guy two seats down from you looks vaguely familiar. You can’t quite put a finger on it and it bugs you. 

His hair is pulled back into a messy bun and his clothes make him look like the alternative guy of your dreams back in high school. He’s got rings on almost every finger and an aura that just screams confidence. 

It begins to become a problem, your inability to place this guy's face. You’ve only taken a handful of notes the entire first hour and thirty minutes into this two-hour class. Your eyes are constantly staring at him no matter how hard you try to make yourself pay attention. 

Then, he raises his hand to answer one of your professor's questions. That’s when it clicks. Your pen falls from your grasp and your mouth forms an O. 

“Oh my fucking god. No. It can’t be.” You think to yourself but just to be sure you take out your phone, turn the brightness and volume down, and hide it under the table. You open Twitter as fast as you can and you don’t even have to look for his user, he’s the first post on the screen. 

Ed @ DungeonMaster86 was boldly displayed above a picture of the guy sitting next to you with his massive dick in his hand. 

It’s a wonder you weren’t caught with how you practically choked on thin air and began furiously looking from your phone to the guy and then back to your phone. 

Your stomach drops. You can’t keep watching his videos, can you? That wouldn’t be right. That would be weird, watching the porn your classmate makes. 

When class is finally called to an end you pack up as quickly as you can and bolt out the door to your next class, hoping that by getting away from Ed, you'd be able to concentrate. Out of sight, out of mind.

That statement turns out to be false when he is in your next class and when you spot him in the student commons talking with another guy. It's like once you made the connection of who he was, he was everywhere.

…

Arriving back at your dorm, you throw your backpack on your desk, snatch your laptop out of it, and struggle to jump up onto your bed. Never had you been so thankful for the single dorm than this moment as your curser hovered over the bookmarked Only Fans page at the top of your screen. No roommate meant no one would see the moral dilemma you were currently losing with yourself. 

‘You know him, it’s wrong to keep watching his videos.”

‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him though. The only way he would know you are watching is if you tell him, you aren’t going to tell him, are you?’

‘No…’ 

‘Then it’s okay, it’ll just add an extra element of taboo to his streams. Plus, he’d miss you in the chat.’

You sigh as the devil on your shoulder wins out once again, talking you into something you know you shouldn’t be. But hey, it feels good to be bad. 

Steadily, you click on his bookmarked profile and the first thing to pop up is the live stream that is currently in session. And against your better judgment, you enter the stream.

He’s only just started, people are slowly filtering in. Ed is sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt off, and a singular, ringed hand teasing himself through his black jeans. 

You breathe a sigh as he looks into the camera, eyes half-lidded, luring you in. It does the job, because in an instant your fingers are typing out a message in chat. 

Princess23: hi Ed

His eyes flicker as he reads his messages, smiling as he replies to you. "Hi, Princess. How's my girl been?"

There's a bubble of excitement at the fact that he recognizes your username, even if you've been a regular in the chat for months.

Princess23: stressful… you've been distracting me.

The reply to his question is truer than he realizes. 

"Aww, princess, is that so? You've been thinking of me?" He leans back on his free elbow, still groping himself with the other hand.

Princess23: yes. been thinking about your cock, how much I want it in my mouth. 

It's one of the less bold comments you make but it makes you blush all the same, especially now.

"Yeah? You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth? Of yours?"

Princess23: yes please

"Mmm." He hums, fingers now fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans. 

You set your laptop to the side and start to situate yourself. Slowly taking your clothes off one by one. 

Ed replies to a few more comments before announcing that it's time to start.

He leaves the screen for just a moment before coming back with something in his hand. Smirking at the camera he shows it. A flashlight in the shape of a mouth.

"This one’s for you, Princess. Since you need my dick so bad," Ed explains. He sets it on his bed before making a show of taking his jeans and boxers off. 

As you watch, your hands roam your body. Fingers pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipples before trailing down. The light touch over your ribs makes you giggle. Then you rub and scratch at the inside of your thighs. 

Ed's moans are now coming through your speakers, you tilt your head to watch.

"Spit on my cock baby, get it nice and wet for me." He commands before spitting in his own hand and rubbing it on his thick length. 

"Your mouth looks so pretty like this, waiting, drooling for me. Need me to fill it so bad don't you, baby?" 

"Yes." You answer him breathlessly, fingers teasing around your mound. 

You watch and he sits back down on his bed, thighs spread, a hand cupping his balls and the other grabbing the fleshlight. He lets out a long, drawn-out moan when he inserts his cock into the fake mouth. 

"Fuck baby, your mouth feels so perfect." 

You can't help but whine. Allowing your fingers to finally circle your clit. 

The both of you go one like this for a bit. Him fucking the fleshlight and you massaging your clit. But then you need more, more than your hand can give you. So you reach to your bedside table, stretching at an uncomfortable angle to open the drawer and pull out the purple mini wand you kept there.

The vibrations start slow and constant as you press the toy to your clit. It pulls soft, quiet noises from you as you watch your computer screen. Your mind is blank, filled only with the pretty sounds Ed is making, the way his body looks, and the pleasure between your legs.

There are no thoughts. You follow his lead. When his hand speeds up, you kick up the vibrations, when he slows down, you turn the vibrator back to the first level. 

It's a rollercoaster, almost, taking your pleasure for a ride. The stream isn't even done yet when you feel that tight pull in your abdomen. The toy works you up fast. 

So you stop. Taking the toy away and changing positions. On your hands and knees, you hug a pillow to your chest and prop the toy up under you, keeping it standing as you push your clit down onto it. It's not even on and it's making your hips buck in sensitivity.

You turn it back on and immediately feel the slick seeping from your cunt and running down the toy. 

"Oh fuck," you cry.  Your eyes locked on the screen where Ed has also changed positions. 

He's got his own toy lying on the bed and he's laying over it. The way his leg and glute muscles contract as he thrusts into the toy has you memorized. 

He chants, "Baby, baby, baby." Over and over. What you would give to have him chanting your name instead. Like a prearranged falling from his lips, praising you, worshiping you.

The need for him grows and so does the tightness in your core. 

Reaching your hand down you turn the speed up. Your hips buck into the toy and you bury your face in the pillow. You're close.

He’s not far behind. Peering up from your pillow you can see his thrusts are sputtering. Sporadic as he draws close to his end. 

“God dammit, baby. Gonna cum in this perfect mouth of yours. Fuck. Can you swallow it like the good pet you are? Hum? The good pet I know you can be?”

“Yes.” You turn up the vibrator. “Fuck, wanna swallow all of you. Please.” 

The vibrations are becoming too much but you keep the toy pressed into you, hips shaking at the feeling of being overstimulated. 

Without warning, you cum with a guttural cry into your pillow. Body spasming, muscles twitching. You can still hear Ed moaning and the sloppy sounds of his cock fucking the fleshlight. 

With barely any energy you reach down between your heavy body and the bed and turn your toy off. You don’t even bother with your computer, too exhausted and fucked out to exit the stream. You fall asleep to the sounds of your new classmate's self-pleasure. 

…

It’s October now. The semester is halfway over and you’ve still been watching Ed, or Eddie. You learned his actual name in class when your professor called role on him by name the second week. 

Today you are being assigned a partner for the final project. You have your fingers crossed that Eddie won’t be chosen as your partner but as your professor calls out pairs, it seems luck is against you. 

You freeze when your name is called and directly after so is Eddie’s. You groan internally. How the hell are you supposed to do this? You already have trouble concentrating when he sits two seats away, what’s going to happen when he actually interacts with you?

There isn’t much time to think about that as he abruptly moves from his seat to the one directly next to you. 

“Hi.” He says, eyes bright and expectant. “I’m Eddie.” He holds out his hand for you to shake but you just stare at him. He looks at you curiously before waving his hand in front of your face. “Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

You snap out of your stupor and accept his hand, shaking it as you introduce yourself. “Sorry. I was a bit out of it.” You say, trying to play it off as you just staring off into space. 

“No problem.” He smiles. “Uh, do you want to exchange numbers so we can figure out when we can work on this together?” 

“Oh, yeah. Here,” You open your phone and push it to him with the messages app open. “You can text yourself.” 

He does just that, even going as far as putting in his contact name as Eddie with the skull and crossbones emoji beside it. 

“Great. I’ll text you when I’m free. I have work on Mondays and Thursdays, sometimes on Saturdays, but other than that I’m usually free.”

You nearly choke when you realize he’s given you his streaming schedule. “I- uh. Okay. Just text me when you can.”

"Sure thing sweetheart." He grins at you before standing, grabbing his things, and heading out of class along with the rest of the students. 

You sit there for a minute, thinking. God, what are you getting yourself into?

…

You both have finally come up with meeting times that work for both of you. Tuesday and Wednesday after seven. Giving you time to get to the school library after the closing shift at your on-campus job. 

It’s been two weeks of working together on this project and it’s been easier than you had originally thought to concentrate on the task at hand and keep your dirty thoughts at bay. 

Right now, you are both sitting in one of the private study rooms looking at Eddie’s computer as he explains why this particular cord progression would fit with the emotions you are trying to convey in your composition. 

You sigh, “Eddie, as much as I love that sound, I really don’t think it fits with the overall composition of the song. It isn’t as emotionally charged as I’d like it to be.”

“Well show me something similar to what you’re wanting.” He rakes his hand through his hair. It’s been a long night for each of you. It seems that every new section of the song you are creating for the project gives you a new challenge to work through together. 

You pull out your phone and Eddie leans over to watch as you begin to type. There is a particular song you are thinking of that has the weight and emotion you are trying to convey with your own music and as you type the first letter of the song, O, the first suggestion that pops up is onlyfans/DungeonMaster. 

Mortified, you slam your phone down on the table. Eddie looks at you with an eyebrow raised. 

“What was that?” He asks.

“What was what?” You answer. 

“Why did you slam your phone down?”

“Oh, I just forgot the title of the song.”

“Right…” He scratches under his chin and then stretches back in his chair. “Why don’t we call it quits for tonight? It’s getting late and we aren’t going to agree on anything if we’re both tired.”

A yawn suddenly comes up out of nowhere and you then realize how tired you actually are. “That sounds good to me.” You agree with Eddie and begin packing up your things. You don’t want to be with him longer than you need to be right now, even if he seemingly didn’t notice his OF user pop up on your phone screen. 

“Bye Eddie.” You wave to him on your way out the door.

Faintly you hear him call out to you, giving a goodbye of his own. "See ya, sweetheart."

… 

After your little slip, you began avoiding Eddie. At least in person, you still tuned into his streams. You bailed on the next three meetups you had planned, helping only through voice notes and text. Eddie said he understood when you said your boss was forcing you to stay late to deep clean. 

It was Thursday now and when you saw him in class he barely looked your way and you wondered if he had seen what you hoped he had not. 

You tried stopping him once your lecture was over, feeling an anxiousness creeping into your mind. Your conscience had been telling you to come clean. To explain your perversion. Let him know you watched him, that you paid to enjoy seeing him fuck into a toy or his hand. 

You called out his name and reached for his arm. "Eddie."

He turns to you. "Hum?"

You take a deep breath to ground yourself. "I wanted to say sorry for not being able to come help with the project."

"It's okay, you said you had work." He replies, unbothered. 

"No, Eddie, I didn't get held back at work. That was a lie."

He doesn't look all too surprised. 

"I've kinda been avoiding you because- well, because of what I think you might have seen on my phone that day."

Eddie stops you there. "Can this wait until later? I've really got some errands to run before work."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry to keep you Ed." You had meant it as a nickname but as it came pushing past your lips it was too late to take it back. You had never heard anyone call him that outside of his onlyfans. 

You watched as his eyes widened at the name and a spark went off behind them. "I'll see you later sweetheart." The smirk he gives you isn't the usual playful one you'd seen him throw before. No, this was sinister, like he knew.

Your heart fell into your stomach as you watched him walk away, leaving you alone.

Tonight as you logged into the stream, it wasn’t to get off. It was to see if he'd show any signs of knowing you might be lurking about among the thousands of viewers.

When the video loads, Eddie is sitting in his desk chair. He's talking to the chat like he always does. There's something different in the atmosphere around him, mischief if you've placed it correctly. 

He keeps replying to comments until the clock reaches 6:10. It's time for the show to begin. 

"Tonight I have a very special treat for you guys." Eddie starts as he reaches over just off camera to his desk. "I've got the wand out." 

The chat erupts. Eddie doesn't bring his vibrator out often, but when he does, you know it's going to be a good show for every party involved. 

"I would also like to say hello to a special quest in the stream tonight." Eddie’s smirk gets bigger and your heart pounds in your chest. "Hi, sweetheart. Hope you enjoy yourself." 

You feel like you've been shot. There's a ringing in your ears and your breathing has stopped. 

He knows. Fuck. He definitely knows. You've never heard him say that pet name on camera. It's always babe or baby when he refers to the collective whole watching the stream. Eddie has only ever used that name with you.

Eddie starts up the vibrator, tracing it over his covered cock. He hums at the feeling, loud and long. 

You clench your thighs together. You tell yourself you should stop watching but you can't bring yourself to. 

'He knows." You argue with yourself.

'But he wants you to watch. Why else would he say his pet name for you? Why else would he say he hopes you enjoy yourself? He knows and he likes it.'

The devil on your shoulder makes sense again and you curse it. 

So, you watch. Intently, you watch. Your eyes never leave the screen. 

Eddie whimpers once he has his cock out of his pants. The tip is a deep purple/red color, showing how worked up he's gotten already.

He lets his head fall back, resting on his chair as he moves the vibrator down to his balls. He presses it into himself before dragging it up his shaft and to the head. 

You feel a wetness seeping into the cotton of your panties and as his legs widen, yours press together more. 

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck, sweetheart." Eddie moans, mouth open slack and eyes squeezed shut. 

You can't believe he's saying your pet name and making those noises. You wonder what he's thinking about. How you'd look sucking on his cock? Maybe what it would be like to be pounding into you, watching your cunt suck him in and clench around him. 

Eddie grits his teeth when he turns the speed up. One hand is holding the vibrator just at the frenulum while the other is cupping and squeezing his balls. 

Your thoughts are running wild and your hips have started to rock in search of some kind of friction.

He moves his hand from his balls and begins to tug on his shaft. Deep guttural moans fill the air, and the sound of them turns you on even more. 

It's not long before Eddie is bucking his cock into his hand. You can see his muscles straining in his legs as he does. 

"Fuck fuck fuck- ah fuck sweetheart, you've got me so close. Fuck." His voice is pinched. You can see the exhaustion in the furrow of his eyebrows as he pressed the vibrator over his tip, the change in placement making his hips shudder. “God, I’m gonna cum. The thought of you is gonna make me cum, sweetheart.” 

Hearing his breathy, deep, timber of a voice say that the thought of you was going to do him in had you thinking you might just cum too. No touching required, just Eddie and his beautiful noises. 

In a matter of seconds, Eddie is choking on his words as his balls go taut. He lets out a drawn-out grunt and ropes of cum begin to spurt out over his chest, covering him like a painting. He doesn’t even bother to clean himself up before he looks into the camera and says good night, chuckling when he mentions your particular pet name again. Then, the screen goes dark. 

…

Fridays are slow in the used bookshop you work at. Especially after 4:30. No one had been inside in maybe an hour? Your boss left early, leaving you alone to close down at 6. For the past fifteen minutes, you’ve been putting misplaced books back where they belong, sweeping, and tidying up anything else you see. 

Because of the usual slowness, you have your headphones on. The music isn’t loud but it does drown out the sound of the bell chiming as someone enters the building. You are unaware of the person creeping up behind you until you are suddenly turned around and corralled against the bookshelf. 

You let out an alarmed screech only for your mouth to be covered by a big, warm hand. Your headphones fall to the floor beside you as they are accidentally knocked off your head. You hear his voice then, whispering in your ear. 

“Hi, Sweetheart.” 

“Eddie-” You heave, relieved it wasn’t someone coming to kill you in cold blood.

“Did you enjoy my show last night?” He leans back, caressing a strand of hair away from your face. 

You shake your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You deny. Even after you had told yourself you would come clean to him, granted that was before you knew he knew your secret. 

“You don’t know, do you? I think you do why else would my account have popped up on your search suggestions the other day?” 

Keeping your mouth shut, you refuse to answer. 

Eddie takes your chin between his fingers and moves your face to the side as he leans into you. His lips tickle the shell of your ear as he speaks again. “So… Which one of my subs are you? Hum?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. 

Eddie tuts. “Don’t get all shy on me. Tell me. Now.” His tone is dominating. It’s one thing to hear it over a computer speaker, it's another when you hear it in person. His presence alone had your knees knocking. 

“I-I,” You can't help but stutter. “It’s Princess23.” You shamefully tell him your user, eyes looking anywhere but his.

He sucks in a breath. “Oh, Princess. That was you?”

He forces you to look at him and you nod your head. 

You hate that he’s making you look him in the eye, but you can see what’s swirling around deep within them. Desire, lust, dominance, but nothing mean. Nothing hurtful. 

As you watch him, you catch the minute changes in his expression. His jaw clenches and his eyes darken, a hunger taking over as he stares you down. 

“I can give you a private show if you want, baby.” He leans back in. “Right here,” He nipps at your ear lobe. “Right now.” 

“Eddie, we can’t… We’re at my work.” 

He looks around you, head swiveling to peer down both ends of the aisle. “It’s fine Sweetheart, no one’s here but us, right?”

“Yes, but-”

He cuts you off with a finger over your lips. 

“Then let me show you why the real thing is so much better than what you’ve seen online.” He doesn’t give you time to think before his lips are on yours. 

They are soft, almost pillow-like as they mold against yours. His tongue slithers its way into your mouth, tasting you, he moans when he does. 

To you, he tastes like menthol cigarettes and black coffee with the faintest hint of weed. It’s intoxicating, and addicting. You’ve only had one taste and now you won't be able to function without him.  

His hand cups your cheek and pulls you closer. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair. His body keeps you pinned to the shelves and he spreads your legs by inserting one of his own between them.

With him being so much taller than you, it only takes you barely bending your knees for you to make contact with his thigh. You are thankful when he doesn’t stop you from humping his leg. The friction of you rubbing yourself against him has the seam of your pants pressing against your clit. It’s a wonderful pressure that leaves your mind blank. 

When he pulls away, you follow, not wanting his mouth to leave yours. Eddie chuckles when you give a needy whine. 

"It's okay baby, I'll give you what you want." He coos. "But first, since you wanna get yourself off, you've got to make yourself cum on my leg."

You pout. "But Eddie…"

"Ah ah, don't complain sweet girl, you'll only make it take longer. Now get to work."

You do as he says, rolling your hips with purpose against him. He doesn't help you at all, he only provides support and kissed along your jaw every few seconds as he watches you work. 

It's harder than you thought it would be. The layers of denim dulled the sensations yet added to the tension your clit felt as the fabric rubbed against it. 

"Mmm, fuck." You gasp, fingers gripping onto Eddie’s shoulders. "M'so close. Eddie, I'm so close."

He smiles at you and he gives your body gentle touches. "That's it, Princess. Let go. Being such a good girl for me."

You moan loudly at his praise. 

"That right sweet girl, use me to get yourself off. That's it, keep going."

His words are spurring you on, your hips, although losing their rhythm and steadiness, keep going strong. Then, you feel it. That tautness in your tummy and the ache in your bones. You are so close.

"Please, Eddie. Ah- so close. Need more." Your words are short and your hips move faster. 

"What is it, baby? What do you need?" Eddie asks, willing to give you just a little.

"Kiss me again," you beg. 

He obliges. Taking your face in his hands and practically devouring you. 

The canter of your hips stalls as your body shudders against him. A sticky wetness can now be felt,  uncomfortably, between your legs.

"So good for me." He praises.

You can feel how hard he is, his needy cock prominently pressing into your thigh.

"Wanna feel you. Eddie please, I need to feel you." You're practically begging him to fuck you now.

"Yeah, sweet girl? You need me to stretch that pretty pussy on my dick? Make you feel so good, baby." He trailed his kiss down to your neck, stopping only to suck and nip at the sensitive skin. 

You nod frantically. "Yes, yes Eddie. Need you inside me."

Hands rush to unbutton pants, fingers caress bare skin, breaths hitch. You tug at Eddie's pants impatiently as he pulls your own down. The sudden feeling of cold air hitting the pool of slick between your thighs. 

You are both a whirlwind of arms and clothes and a few books falling from their shelf. Eddie’s fingers make their way to your center, exploring between your folds. 

You throw your head back, cracking it on the shelf above. "Ow," You moan out in pain.

"Careful there, Sweetheart." He gives you another kiss and moves his unoccupied hand to cradle your head.

The pain is instantly forgotten when two of his thick fingers circle your clit before pushing into your entrance.

"Mmmm- god." He feels so good inside you, fingers curling into your walls. The wet slick of him moving fills the stagnant air of the bookstore.

"You're sucking me in, baby. Pussy squeezing me so tight." Eddie rests his forehead on yours, his breath mixing with your own. "Can't wait to feel you around my cock."

Gasping in response, you buck your hips up into his hand. "More-"

It doesn't take much convincing for Eddie to pull his hand from between your legs and position his hard length at your entrance. Slowly he slips inside, meeting no resistance with how wet you are. 

Eddie pushes into you, cock stretching you out farther than you think you've ever been before. His one hand rests on the back of your head while the other pushes your shaking hand out of his way as he goes to press it against your neck.

You grasp his arm, nails scratching his skin as he chokes you. 

"Oh- oh, Eddie. Fuck me." You cry, cunt fluttering around him. 

Your words are music to his ears. His pace begins steadily. In and out at a lazy, leisurely speed. Then he picks it up, hips bucking faster and faster. 

He's giving it all to you. Everything you've dreamed of since you saw him on your Twitter all those months ago.

The head of his cock is repeatedly hitting that one spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. You can’t keep yourself up. The feelings coursing through you have your knees buckling and Eddie does a good job at catching your weight. 

He stops his movements to try and situate you. “Come on, baby, gotta stand up.” 

You shake your head. “I can’t, s’too much.” Your heart is pounding in your chest, if you even tried to stand you would just fall again. “There's a couch.” You point to the back of the store. “It’s in the break room.” 

Eddie grunts as he hoists you up in his arms and follows your directions. 

The couch is old and made of leather. It is cold on your skin as Eddie lays you down and you shiver as he rips your pants and underwear from around your ankles. Never would you have ever imagined being naked from the waist down in your work break room. 

In contrast to the cool leather, Eddie’s hands are searing hot. He grips the back of your knees, picking your legs up and spreading you out. You’re almost folded in half. 

“Jesus fucking christ. You. Are. Beautiful.” He enunciated every word. The complement has you keening and clenching around nothing. “Fuck, look at that pretty cunt. She’s gaping for me.” Eddie smiles, eyes flickering to yours before looking back to your most intimate part. 

You let out a wonton gasp when he spits, a glob of it falling right atop your parted slit. Eddie takes a hand away and grabs his cock. He rubs the tip through your folds, giving your clit a heavy tap tap tap before entering you again and grabbing the back of your knee again. 

Eddie wastes no time in pistoning his hips into yours. The new angle gives him free range of movement to fuck you fast and deep. The skin of his thighs makes a sharp slapping sound when he connects with your ass, it sets the rhythm for the song of your shared moans. 

“Pull your shirt up.” He commands and you do as he says. Lifting your shirt up and over your breasts. Eddie lets out an irritated grunt at the sight of your bra. “That too.” He puffs out and you pull it up as far as it will allow. 

Your breasts bounce as Eddie fucks you mercilessly into the couch. His eyes are shamelessly trained on them. “Fucking hell, Princess. Gimmie our hands.” 

You reach out for him and he grabs your wrists, guiding you to hold your legs back like he had been doing. With the newfound freedom of his hands, he extends them out to play with your tits.  He pinches and tugs at your nipples, making you moan in pleasure as he continues his assault. His thrusts become faster, harder, more desperate. You know he's close and you can't take much more either. 

“Eddie… Ah- Eddie-” You babble out his name. You wiggle under his hold and the harsh prodding of his cock into your cervix. The strings of another orgasm are being pulled tight. 

He growls. “I know baby, I know. Fucking cum for me. Cum on my cock.” 

Tears well up in your eyes and begin to overflow. Your body writhes, back bowing, muscles straining. You’re on the precipice. 

Eddie sees how close you are and moves a hand down between your legs, circling his thumb over your slick-covered clit. 

“Oooh- Oh fuck!” You scream. “Shit shit shit shitshitshitshit…. Ah!” 

“Louder.” He moans. “Want the whole town to hear you sweet girl.” 

“Eddie! Oh, I’m there. I’m fucking there.” You cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you let go. A scream erupts from your throat. Even in your ecstasy, you can feel Eddie’s tempo shift. He’s losing speed. 

“Goddammit. I cumming too.” Eddie whimpers, sinking into you fully. His cum fills you up and you can fill you as it runs down your ass as he pulls out. 

Your body is twitching as he moves you to lay more fully on the couch. He doesn’t follow though. No. He sinks to his knees and before your foggy mind can even comprehend it, he attaches his mouth to your pussy.  

You are pliant under his touch, unable to resist. His tongue explores you and you moan in pleasure. He’s lapping up the mixture of his cum and your slick, humming at the taste the whole time. 

You choke back a sob when his tongue flicks repeatedly over your clit before he begins to suck on the already abused bud. “Eddie, please.” Reaching down you tug on his hair but he doesn’t move. “Ed-” He starts shaking his head, burying himself in your pussy. 

Another orgasm is quickly approaching. Your breathing quickens and you can feel your body trembling as he works you up, sending you higher and higher until you can’t take it anymore. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, and your body spasms in pleasure. He doesn't stop, continuing his ministrations until you finally come down from your high once more.

“Christ. You taste so good.” He says as he crawls up your spent body. Draping himself over you he places kiss after tender kiss all over your face. “Did so good for me. I’m so proud of you.” 

“Yeah?” You whisper. 

“Mhum. So proud.” He grins, the light of the room catching in the wetness covering him from nose to chin. 

Eddie cuddles into you more and your eyes close. He’s exhausted you. You both lay there in silence, content in each other's presence. Eddie eventually falls asleep, his breathing slow and steady. You don’t have the heart or the energy to wake him. You stay awake, just barely, still in awe of what happened. 

It feels like hours have gone by when you finally do shake Eddie, calling out to him softly. He stirs, grumbling as he looks up at you. 

“Eds, baby, I need to lock up.” 

He only rests his head back down between your breasts. You shake him again. 

“Eddie.” You say it a bit more sternly. “Get up and I’ll let you take me back to yours.” 

That gets his attention and he’s up and dressing himself in an instant. You on the other hand are slower, feeling the prominent ache between your legs. He has to help you pull your panties and jeans back on. 

He has to help you close the store as well, your legs weak and not trusted to hold up your body weight without crumbling to the ground. 

Never had you thought this was how this would end. Sitting in the passenger seat of your favorite camboy's car as he drives you to his apartment, grinning like the Cheshire cat as you both think of all the fun things you’ll get up to. Round two was bound to be wilder than the first. 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader #camboy!eddie #camboy!eddie munson #soft!dom eddie

[jasm1nelily]

skin tight

pairing : steve harrington x gen-netural!reader

word count : 5.2k

summary : what started as a summer fling has left steve lovesick. little does he know, you’re suffering just the same. 

notes : NSFW! there isn’t a lot of detailed, long smut, but certainly some implied explicit scenes and language.

ALSO! requests are open so check out my pinned post for more info on that :)

ALSO also! i just wanted to thank everybody for all the attention my recent eddie fic got. it really surprised me how much everybody seems to love it!!! i hope u guys enjoy this one too <3

music : skin tight by rayvn lenae ft. steve lacy :)

Steve’s not entirely sure why exactly it began. All he remembers seeing you for the first time; not the first time you met, but the first time he actually saw you, saw you for what you were. He remembers thinking that you were beautiful, and he remembers wondering how he never noticed before, after all these years of knowing you. It made him slightly uncomfortable, how gorgeous you were. He just couldn’t look at you in the way he used to—in that brotherly, companion, best friends forever sort of way. 

It was at a party. Graduation party, to be exact. Somebody whose name Steve had never heard was hosting it, but it was in the town, so he was okay with going. You tagged along with him because who else would you tag along with; you went almost everywhere together, and that wasn’t changing just because high school had ended. He drove the two of you. He doesn’t recall having any weird thoughts during the drive, and even when you entered the party, which was already raging by the time you arrived. Fashionably late, right?

What happened, in the span of an hour or so, that changed Steve’s perception of you so completely? He couldn’t pinpoint it, no matter how hard he tried. It wasn’t as if he’d had an extraordinary amount to drink; he knew how to handle his liquor, and the alcohol at this particular function wasn’t of especially good quality, anyhow.  

You were talking to a girl. He didn’t know the girl’s name, but he had seen you with her once or twice. What the girl looked like is irrelevant; he wasn’t really studying her, anyway. It was you that he looked at, from across the room—you, and the way you laughed, the way your eyes sparkled in the dim lights overhead, the way you were standing, all sure of yourself, leaning against the wall as you watched the girl speak. And you hadn’t even had anything to drink. You were the designated driver.

How could you look so confident sober? Steve sure did not possess that quality. Not at all. 

Steve felt an overwhelming desire to walk over there, drag you to the bathroom, and fuck the daylights out of you. And that really scared him, so he swallowed the rest of his drink and wandered off to go chat up someone else. But they weren’t you. And it scared him even more that he was comparing someone he planned to sleep with by the end of the night to you, his best friend since the fourth grade, and that this person... they weren’t measuring up. 

Nobody could measure up to you. Nobody.  

What Steve doesn’t know is that you have seen him for the entirety of your friendship. You’ve seen him, not just as best friend and partner to always rely on, but as hot, playboy Steve. Dreamy Steve, with those eyes and those pillowy lips, with those strong arms and big hands that you sometimes feel guilty about staring at for a little too long. Thank god he's far too oblivious to notice. Steve has never seen you that way, and he never will. You can’t tell whether or not you should be sad about it. 

You don’t know how long you’ve wanted him. You’ve always thought he was attractive, but wanting someone? That’s different. 4 years, maybe? That would be the full ride of your high school years, which seems right. Even through his thing with Nancy, you wanted him. It hurt more than you’d like to admit to pretend like things were just fine, to comfort him when they fought and eventually broke up, and through all the stuff afterward. Because Steve never truly got over her, not in the way he said he did. And that might’ve hurt more than all the other stuff combined. 

So, when Steve started coming on to you, it was very hard for you to refuse him. 

The first time it happened, you were at a beach party one of your friends was hosting, out of town. You dragged Steve with you because you didn’t want to drive somewhere far alone, and he obliged, but only if you agreed to staying in a hotel for the night, because he did not want to be the designated driver. You were more than happy to say yes, and off you went. 

Steve had been acting weird lately. He was always busy, always had an excuse as to why he couldn’t hang out. But when you did hang out, he was just as warm as ever, and maybe even more so—touching you when it wasn’t really necessary, holding your hand to guide you someplace and just not letting go. It wasn’t strange enough to make you say anything, but it was definitely enough for your mind to wander to various improbable conclusions. 

Improbable, until 2am that night, when you were struggling to turn the key into the door to your hotel room, and Steve was behind you, giggling like a little boy. His hands were around your waist and he was holding you close, so close you could feel his heart beating rapidly against your back, and his hot breath was fanning over the shell of your ear; all of this, more than the fact that you were a bit drunk, was enough to make your fingers tremble as you again tried to unlock the door. 

Suddenly, he stopped laughing, and went quiet for a few moments before he spoke again. 

"Y/N,” he had said, voice just above a whisper. “Stop for a sec.” 

You stopped, because you weren’t really getting anywhere with the key anyway. 

He placed one hand on either side of your waist and spun you slowly to face him. His pupils were blown and his face was flush with that pink most pale people get when they’re inebriated; Steve especially, as you’d realized throughout your time with him. And he was grinning at you in this enigmatic way. You couldn’t tell what he wanted. You could definitely speculate, but any answer you could come up with would be heavily biased by way of your own desires. 

Steve stared blankly at you for a moment before his hands released you, and instead found themselves cradling your face. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered, like it wasn’t really for you and kinda just for the universe. But you heard it, of course you did, and all you could do was blink twice and try to figure out what to say. 

“Thanks, Stevie. You’re beautiful too,” you finally said, smiling softly up at him. Steve paused and you registered the distance between the two of you—rather, the lack thereof, because you were so close that if you twitched or jerked the wrong way you would end up kissing. And somehow, even though you had spent years telling yourself how gross and wrong it would be to even think about kissing Steve, you wanted to. You really, really wanted to. 

Steve was gnawing on his bottom lip, his glossy gaze flickering from your eyes to your mouth and back again, and you suddenly got the message that maybe he too really, really wanted to. And so you took the leap and you kissed him. It felt like he was trying to swallow you whole, like a starved python, wrapping himself around you and pressing himself so close you thought your bodies would merge together. You wouldn’t have minded. 

You slipped him the key and he managed to get the door open in about two seconds, which would have wounded your ego were you not too entranced by the way he was still trying to kiss you as you fell into the room. It was violent; teeth clashing lips biting tongues swirling, hands roaming, squeezing, legs tangled. Boundaries crossed and shattered under the weight of pure desire. 

And it felt good. For the time being. 

Steve may not be the smartest guy in the world, let alone in Hawkins, but he knows when he’s doing something he’s not supposed to. That’s like, toddler level intelligence. And that night, and every night with you afterwards, he felt it. That guilt, that shame, because this was something he wanted with every fiber of his being, but it was something he knew he should not be doing. It had the potential to ruin a friendship he had cherished for so many years. It had the potential to make him lose something he wasn’t sure how to live without. You. 

But god, if he didn’t think about you, every second of the day. The way you just melted into his hands, like putty, how easy it was to coax those sweet sounds out of your mouth, as if just his touch was enough for you. He could tell you trusted him, so completely. You trusted him to make you feel good. You trusted him to keep you safe, to never hurt you, because he would never, ever hurt you. 

You thought about him too. In conversation you would look him right in the eyes, but be thinking about his hands on your torso, his lips on your neck, his eyes that bore into yours and made you feel like the only person he would ever want in the world. 

But you weren’t together. You were just fucking. 

This was something you had to make yourself remember from time to time. By the end of July, time to time became every time you saw Steve. You had no clue what he thought about the whole situation—you never really had a conversation about it, and you were too scared to bring it up. It might disrupt the very delicate nature of whatever the two of you had going on, and you weren’t ready for it to end just yet. 

Steve wasn’t ready either. He liked what you had now, because you were able to act like best friends and treat one another just the same way you had been before, but later, when nobody was around, you kissed and you held him and it felt just like it had the first time. At some point, he started dreaming not just about your body, but just you. 

He started thinking about you, and your friendship. The years you had spent together. How he felt when you weren’t around, when he couldn’t call on you. And Steve realized, to his horror, he was in love with you. Maybe it should’ve made him happy, but instead it just filled him with fear. He had gotten the two of you wrapped up by something that was threatening to squeeze the life out of him, but he didn’t want to let go. 

“I feel like this is not gonna end well.” 

Steve sighs to himself and rubs his hands over his face. The store is empty except for himself and Robin, who has just finally worn him down on whatever the hell has been going on between himself and Y/N. On one hand it feels good to get it off his chest, but on the other he’s not sure if he’s ready to submit himself to the endless barrage of questions he knows will be coming soon. 

“Yeah. I don’t think it will either,” he confesses, holding his head in his hands as he leans his elbows onto the cashier counter. “But I just can’t stop.” 

Robin scoffs. “I mean, I guess it makes sense. The sexual tension between you guys has been a lot worse these past months.” 

"Worse? So there was... tension, in the first place?” 

Steve feels like an idiot when he finally looks up to see Robin staring at him incredulously. Usually, they’re stupid together, but at this moment he feels like a kid whose mother is trying to explain some complex science. “Yes, idiot. They’re practically in love with you. You should just tell them how you feel. You guys are making me sick.” 

His chest is hurting a bit—every time he’s thought about them this week, he’s felt like his ribs are closing in on his heart. Maybe he should get that checked out. “They aren’t in love with me. We’re just... you know.” 

“Fucking?” 

Steve winces at the vulgarity of the term. “Yeah. That.” 

“That doesn’t mean they’re not in love with you. Maybe they’re not saying anything ‘cause they’re afraid you don’t feel the same way.” 

The little bell above the front door rings and in comes some guy and his gaggle of middle school friends. Steve sighs and stands up straight as they begin thumbing through the horror section. 

“That would certainly be ironic.” 

A week later, you’re on the phone with your older sister, who’s away at college. You’ve been talking about Steve for 15 minutes without actually having said his name—your sister of course knows who he is, because she was forced to witness your shenanigans together before she left. It’s not that you don’t trust her, but you’d rather not have to deal with the questions you know she’ll ask if she knows that this person you’re talking about sleeping with is Steve Harrington. 

“Hey, don’t kill me if I’m wrong... but are you talking about Steve? Like Steve, your best friend since elementary school?”  

Well, so much for that. Fuck. 

You hesitate for a moment, but that’s all she needs as a confirmation. “Oh shit. You’re sleeping with Steve. Jesus, Y/N.” 

“Yeah,” you breath, squeezing your eyes shut. “I know. Bad idea.” 

She’s quiet for a moment before you hear her take a deep breath. “You’ve been head over heels for this guy for so long. Why would you do that to yourself?” 

The way she’s phrasing it makes you feel really stupid and pathetic, but you know she’s right. Why would you do that to yourself? You’re just making yourself suffer, and for what? Because he fucks good? It is really good, and you’ve never had anyone make you feel that way before, but you could probably find someone else. You could’ve found someone else. Yet, you submitted yourself to Steve just like that and now you’re in a mess of shit. 

“I don’t know. I guess I just... he initiated, you know? And it felt really good for him to want me the way I’ve wanted him for who knows how fucking long. So I just fell for it. It was dumb, I know. I feel like an idiot already, you don’t have to tell me.” 

Your sister hums to herself, as she does often when she’s thinking. 

“It was dumb. But I’m sort of glad you went for it, because if you didn’t, you would just be stuck pining after him forever, you know? At least now, you have something to go off of. I say you tell him how you feel. And if he doesn’t feel the same, fuck him. Not literally, of course. You’re already doing that.” 

The way she said it, it all seemed so simple. Frankly, it all could be that simple. But she just didn’t get it. How could she? You couldn’t lose Steve, you just couldn’t. He had been by your side so long that imagining life without him made your heart shrivel up and fall to pieces like a dying rose. 

“Yeah. You’re right. I’ll tell him.” 

“Not very convincing. But you do you, alright? If you need to talk again, I’m always available. Between 3 and 7pm on weekdays. Not at all on the weekends. But, you know. You have mom.” 

“Ha ha. Very funny.” 

Another week passes and neither of you reach out to the other. You’re beginning to feel like this is it, this is the end of whatever you’ve been doing, possibly the end of your friendship, too. It’s making you so anxious that you can barely sleep at night; all you do is imagine all your memories with him, and wonder if one day when you’re old and grey you’ll forget all about them because you never got to make anymore. You try not to cry about it. 

Steve cries about it. At least, he did, just once, but he was sort of high and he was with Robin and just couldn’t stop talking about this one time the two of you skipped school to get ice cream and go see a movie. It was a horror movie, and you held his hand because even though he said he wasn’t afraid, he was afraid, because Steve was still recovering from his second encounter with the Upside Down and the special effects were looking a little too real. 

“They were there for me, man. They’ve always been there for me. I can’t fuckin’ lose that, you know?” 

Robin inhaled the smoke deeply and blew it out in a ring. She’d been practicing that trick. 

“You won’t lose them. They’ll always be there, even if they don’t feel the same way. You can’t just... erase years of friendship. You can’t erase what you guys have.” 

Oh yes, you can. Robin knew that, but she didn’t say it, because Steve was already crying and she’s never seen him cry before. It was a little awkward but she managed to keep herself from laughing. 

You can’t ignore Steve forever. Spending more than a day without at least seeing him once feels wrong, let alone purposefully avoiding him for seven of them. And then there’s the issue of why he hasn’t called or stopped by or anything. Maybe he’s decided enough is enough. Regardless, you need to tell him how you feel. If it ends badly, oh well. You can always catch the bus out of town. Disappear without a trace, that kind of thing. You’ve kinda always wanted to try it. 

On Friday the 13th of August, Steve is standing in the Family Video Store sweating his ass off. The air conditioning broke yesterday; conveniently, this is the second hottest day of the summer, so he’s pretty much miserable at the moment. He’s leaning against the counter waiting for a dad and his daughter to pick between Raiders of the Lost Ark and Wrath of Khan. Personally, he would go for Fast Times, but the customer is always right, anyhow. 

The little bell above the front door jingles and he expects it to be Robin coming back from the donut shop with two jelly donuts and an iced coffee, so he doesn’t bother looking. However, when they get close enough, Steve catches a whiff of a very familiar laundry detergent and his heart freezes in his chest. 

“Long time no see, Stevie,” you greet, flashing him as genuine a smile as you can. Your stomach is rumbling and you hope he can’t hear it. 

When Steve looks up at you, his eyes almost bulge out of their sockets, and your heart drops a little in your chest. He’s really, really not looking happy to see you. You don’t know what you were expecting; you had rationalized his lack of contact with the idea of him being busy, but in truth you should’ve known better. The only time he’s busy is when the town is under attack by paranormal monsters, and as far as you know that’s not the case. 

“Y/N, hey. What... um, what’re you doin’ here?” What a fucking stupid thing to say. What are you doing here? Obviously, they’re here to see you, dickweed. Steve does his best to regain his composure and gives you a smile he’s sure looks as awkward as it feels. 

“Can we... uh. Can we talk? Outside, maybe? It’s too fucking hot in here.” Not like it’d be any better outside, but you’d rather not be in the store for this. If it goes badly, like you expect it to, at least you’ll have free range to run away. 

Steve swallows hard. “Yeah. For sure. Just give me a sec.” 

You stand aside and watch as he slides out from behind the cashier counter, approaching the only two customers in the store. He talks to them for a minute or so, clearly weighing two movie options for the man and what looks to be his teenage daughter. The way he smiles at them, you almost forget what you’re here to do, but it’s a little hard to focus when he’s just so... him. Dreamy Steve with the beautiful heart. Your Steve. If you can remember that, maybe you can stop being so anxious. 

Steve rings the two up and they exit the store; the minute they do so, the weight of silence is heavy on your shoulders and you slump a little under the pressure. Your attempt at holding a smile has long been forgotten, and now you’re just gnawing on your lip, trying to distract yourself from your frayed nerves.

He’s staring right at you, and you can see his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows hard. You don’t think you’re gonna make it outside. You decide that you have to do it, right now, or else you’ll never bring yourself to do it again. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” you blurt, not really bothering to think carefully about what you want to say. You created a whole script in your head prior, but you’ve gone blank and decide to let your heart take the wheel. 

Instead of saying, do what? like you predicted he would, Steve only inhales sharply and says; “Me either.” 

He’s looking down at the counter now, and you approach him slowly, so that you’re standing right in front of him. 

“It’s not that I don’t... like doing it, with you. I love it. It’s really good. It’s fun. But, fuck, I...” you don’t know how to continue, because he’s brought his eyes up to yours and they’re so brown and glossy and big you think you might just fall into them. 

“It’s too weird?” Steve asks, and you feel your heart being chipped away at just a little bit. That’s why he thinks you’re ending it, because it’s too weird? You know that he couldn’t possibly know how you feel, but for some reason it makes you angry, and you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. 

“Jesus fuck, Steve. No, it’s not because it’s too weird. It’s because I can’t stand it. I can’t stand that all of the sudden, you’re into me, you think I’m hot, and you wanna kiss me, and fuck me, and do all these things, because I’ve wanted that for so long. So. Long.” You would think the bewildered expression on Steve’s face would hinder you, but it just fuels your ire, and you take a deep breath through your tears. 

“And I think the worst part isn’t that you never wanted me the way I always wanted you. The worst part is that even though you might think you do now, you still don’t. So, the reason I can’t do this anymore is because it hurts. It really fucking hurts.” 

You’re out of breath now, and you’re sure your face is red. You thank god Robin’s not here because if she suddenly popped out of the break room you probably would’ve passed out on the spot. In fact, you might just do it now. Steve’s shocked expression falls and is replaced by one that makes your heart feel too big in your chest. He looks sad. He rarely looks sad. Your anger is simmering into a quiet aching. 

“How... how do you want me? What do you want from me?” Steve’s voice is just above a whisper. You can tell he doesn’t mean it in that way, but you take it that way anyhow. You choke quietly on your own tears and furiously wipe your eyes on your sleeve. 

“Fuck, Steve, I don’t want anything from you. I just love you. I have, for so long. And I wish maybe you could love me back in that way, but I know you can’t. So I’m ending this, whatever it was.” I’m ending us. Our friendship. Everything we had, reduced to one tough conversation and a summer fling that felt like it lasted a lifetime. 

You don’t say that, but you can see Steve hears it anyway. His eyebrows upturn and he looks a beached whale, so far from home but just in its reach. You want to turn and run, but not because you’re scared, but because you don’t have anything else to say. What else is there to say? You’ve finally fished your deepest secret from the depths of your heart’s ocean, and now you feel empty. 

You inhale and turn around. 

“Y/N, please, don’t—shit, I.. give me a minute.” 

You don’t continue walking, but you don’t face him again. 

“Just let me say something, and then you can go if you really want to.” 

A few seconds pass and you hug yourself, hoping that if you squeeze tight enough you’ll fold into yourself and escape this horrible, horrible feeling. Escape this moment. 

“Can you... you know. Turn around? Please?” 

This better be fucking good. 

You abide by his request and spin to face him slowly. His face is red; is he blushing, angry, nervous? You can’t tell. His eyebrows are furrowed, so maybe he’s angry, but you feel as if he’s just very focused on what he’s about to say. Rarely does Steve do anything with his eyebrows when he’s mad. That’s the worst thing about it—there’s never an expression on his face. 

“Do you remember the first time we.. you know. In that shitty hotel?”

You nod slowly, hoping he has an actual point to this and he’s not just stalling for time. 

“When we woke up the next morning, and you were all cuddled up next to me, I got this really bad feeling in my stomach. Like I was not supposed to be doing this, like I had gone off path or something and I was in the wrong neighborhood. But I didn’t wanna wake you up, so I didn’t freak out or anything. I tried to go back to sleep, but not before I looked at you, just to make sure it was actually you, and I wasn’t losing my mind.” 

You sniffle and sigh. “How the fuck is this supposed to make me feel better?” 

Steve winces. “I’m getting to it, I promise. Just bear with me.” 

He moves toward the exit from behind the counter to right in front of you. You try to ignore the proximity, and focus on the wall behind him. It’s a little hard, since you can tell he’s looking you right in the eyes, but you manage. 

“When I looked at you, this really weird thing happened. All the bad stuff I was feeling, all the nerves and the fear and all that, went away. And there was just you and me and the sun coming into through the window, and the sound of you breathing. It was... good. It felt really good. It felt like I was in the right place. And that feeling... well, it hasn’t gone away. It’s actually gotten worse.” 

Steve pauses. Like he’s waiting for you to say something. You won’t, because you don’t know what the hell he wants you to say, let alone what he’s saying.

“Steve,” you say, finally meeting his gaze. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because,” he breaths. You're so close you can hear the sound of him swallowing. It’s loud and you bet his mouth is really dry right now. “I don’t know how else to tell you how I feel.” 

Your heart stops. “...how you feel?”

“Yeah. How I feel. About you, about us, about everything. I don’t know how else to... to phrase it.” 

“Try. I’ll wait,” you say, and a little smile creeps its way onto your face. Hope, instead of fear and anger and sadness, bubbles up into your chest, eradicating all the bad feelings like bug repellent. You watch him as he registers your request, and his eyes never leave yours. 

He takes your hands. You can feel that they’re clammy and hope he doesn’t feel how shaky yours are. “I don’t regret what we did. I don’t want to stop. But I don’t want... just that. I want you. I want you in every way. In any way you’ll have me.” 

A silence sets over the store. Steve finally breaks eye contact and you can feel his rapid pulse on your finger, which rests on his wrist. 

“Does that make sense?” he asks, his voice wavering ever so slightly. 

“Yeah,” you smile, and let go of his hand to rest your own on his cheek, to make him look at you again. “I understand.” 

Steve smiles back, and then it breaks out into a face-splitting grin, and a little sigh of relief escapes him. He looks so cute, like a child on Christmas morning, staring right at their favorite gift. 

“You understand,” he repeats. And then he finally breaks the ice and envelops you in his arms, holding you so tight that you’re sure you’re going to melt into him. You always do. 

“I’m sorry.” Steve’s voice is muffled by your skin because he’s shoved his face into your neck. You feel his mouth moving against you. 

“I know. I’m sorry too.” You’re not even sure what you’re apologizing for, but it feels right to say it in the moment. 

You hold each other like for a while. You’re still crying, but not because you’re really sad or even because you’re really happy—though, the latter still applies. It just keeps coming out. So when Steve finally pulls away from you, he cradles your face in his hands and his thumbs wipe your tears, slightly calloused but still sort of soft. They move slow and you stare into his eyes the whole time, and your cheeks hurt because of how hard you’re smiling. 

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks, timidly, like you’re going to say no. 

“Yeah. You can.” 

And somehow, even though you’ve kissed many times before, it feels different this time. It’s not violent, it’s not raw, it’s not even that passionate, but it’s real. It makes your stomach fill with warmth and your skin tingle in the places where it meets his. In this kiss, Steve is trying to pour all the words he can’t say, and you hear them. You hear them in the way he chases you when you pull away, in the dreamy look in his eyes as he studies your face. 

“So... this means we can keep sleeping together, right?” 

Your smile falls and you hit him on the shoulder, but he just laughs and kisses you again, this time more of a peck. 

“Kidding. Sorry. Not funny.” Obviously, he thinks it’s funny. And you think it’s a little funny too, but you can’t let him know that. 

“Take me out to dinner first. Then we can discuss the... other stuff.” Your heart flutters at the way his grin grows at your words. 

“Absolutely. It’s a deal.” 

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve Harrington x you #steve stranger things #harrington #x you fluff #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #angst #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x #stranger things x reader #stranger things #gender neutral reader #steve harrington x gender neutral reader #steve harrington x y/n #y/n insert #x y/n #y/n

[littleststarfighter]

Really just wanted to draw a Camp Counsellor, Steddie. But being a bit of a horror fan I turned toward the awesome 80s videos of the day for inspiration. Where both of them think a warm summer and babysitting kids is going to be a breeze. Little do they know that they become the Final boys as something stalks the camp 😢 Is it really killing the kids? Or are the boys just stuck in their own nightmare the Camp created for them? DunDunDun!!!! 😨😈

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #stranger things art #stranger things #horror #camp horror #my fanart

[songbirdsingingthings]

Stranger Things Masterlist

Steve Harrington

Love-Gate ~ 2.8K

Working as Ms. Kelly’s TA and having to stay late one night, you run into Dustin, Max, Lucas, and one of your closest friends, Steve. Revelations come to light and feelings are revealed.

Truth Detector ~ 2.7K

After getting drugged with truth serum by the Russians, you, Steve, and Robin don’t feel good and have to race to the bathroom to expel the drug’s contents. In order to test whether it’s all gone, questions are asked, and love is in the air.

Dangerous Waters ~ 3.8K

Hunting down a portal that Vecna had caused wasn’t your idea of a fun night and it most definitely didn’t help that you and your boyfriend, Steve Harrington, are at odds because of a previous argument. However, all of that gets put aside when Steve gets dragged underwater and is put in the direct line of danger.

Frost Kisses ~ 3.4K

Having to be a chaperone for the Snow Ball was not in your evening plans, not at all. However, as you’re greeting the middle schoolers and making sure they get in safely, you run into Steve Harrington, your best friend, dropping off Dustin. It’s cold and icy everywhere, but thankfully, Steve is there to lend a helping hand.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things x

[kiwi-bitchez]

The Girlfriend Experience

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie doesn’t think he’s cut out for dating. Self-resigned to a life of one and done hookups, you’re determined to make him see that he has the capacity to be a worthy companion… for when the right girl comes around. Fake Dating AU, classic corny fic for a fav corny troupe, Stranger Things canon divergent ofc, 18+ smut (see warnings below), big dick energy but also slightly emotionally unavailable!Eddie, yada yada yada, you know the drill. 

Content warnings: AFAB reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol, smoking the devil’s lettuce, mention of panty stealing, food consumption, semi-public sex, fingering, PIV, Dom-ish!Eddie, oral (m and f receiving), pierced dick Eddie because I said so!, unprotected PIV sex, hair pulling, mild angst but nothing too angsty just like one heated conversation and Eddie feeling a little worthless but happy ending I promise

Word Count: 20k ahhhhhh!!!

A/N: Thanks to all those who comment and reblog! Your feedback and engagement makes my heart soar and keeps me motivated to write this filth! Sorry for the gargantuan length, in very-me fashion I always ending up writing one behemoth fic every so often rather than just separating it out into chapters. Also, realizing after the fact that I use the brand name ‘Goodwill’ a lot in this fic, which maybe not everyone might know is a thrift store, not sure if that’s just an American thing or not but figured it was worth noting. 

“I guess I’m just not boyfriend material, ya know?” Eddie shrugs.

“Don’t say that, Eds,” your eyebrows pinched together, “different qualities are important to different people. Not everyone is looking to date a Steve, or a Brian, or a whoever. I’m sure someone is out there looking for an Eddie.”

“It’s not that,” he shot a look towards Steve, who, despite your analogy, was unfortunately everyone’s type and the textbook definition of boyfriend material.

“I just don’t think I’d be very good at gooey romance stuff, or even like, passable boyfriend behavior. I mean, look at me, I hardly take care of myself, I’m loud, I have no money, I’m basically every dad’s worst nightmare, do I need to keep going?”

“The nightmare thing can actually be a bonus,” Steve chimes in, “the whole bad boy persona can be a huge draw for most girls.”

“Sure Steve,” Eddie’s voice grows exasperated, “I’m the mysterious bad boy until they realize I’m a huge loser who runs not one but two dungeons and dragons groups. Real fuckin’ attractive I’m sure that is.”

“Shows you’re committed to something…” you trail off when his eyes tell you to stop coming up with a positive spin for every excuse he gives. 

This whole discussion had started because of something that happened at the bar last night. A small group of you decided to meet up for drinks, your usual group of pals. It was a Thursday, so the bar wasn’t too busy. Your friends all squished into a booth in the corner, chatting and catching up over a plate of shared nachos, when Robin started making frantic gesture at you and Steve.

“Please just say what you’re trying to say instead of this elaborate charade,” Steve makes a few mocking hand signals back at her.

“Okay, one at a time, and keep it subtle,” her voice lowered to a whisper, for some reason, “over at the bar, some girl is totally flirting with Eddie.”

You and Steve both turn around. “I said not at the same time!” She whisper yells. 

There was, in fact, a pretty girl with shiny hair and glossy lips doing a half fake laugh and pressing her manicured hand to Eddie’s bicep. You whip back around to find Robin with her mouth hanging open in a “can you believe this is happening” way. 

“Good for him,” Steve swivels back around too, “She’s pretty hot.”

You return to your nachos, pretending there wasn’t a ping of jealousy in you. Eddie was your friend, that had been made abundantly clear.

When Robin introduced you to all her friends from high school, you had easily gotten along with all of them. You especially got along with Eddie. He was funny, authentic, abrasive at times, but a truly good person at his core, creative, protective, you could go on.

After getting to know him a bit, and developing a budding crush, you had made a few passes at him. Nothing too forward, just small compliments here and there, open ended offers to hang out that never lead anywhere.

It’s not like he flat out rejected you, but any feelers you were putting out to see if there was potential there were met with him looking past your flirtatious intent and just being his goofy, friendly self. He treated you exactly the same way he treated everyone else, which was awesome, except for when it wasn’t. 

“Oh no,” Robin’s gaze was not subtly fixed on the unfolding scene at the bar, you and Steve watched her face drastically shift from confused, to a cringe, to an eye roll.

Still half whispering, as if Eddie could even hear your corner of the bar, “He’s totally blowing it. DON’T both turn around at the same time again.” 

“Okay, so,” she starts before either of you can even confirm that you want to know, “she was totally laying it on thick, like you could see it from all the way back here. And he must have said something off putting, cuz all of a sudden she like went cold on him and pranced away. Shhhhh, okay okay, he’s coming back.”

She was acting as if she wasn’t the only one gossiping. You and Steve were innocent bystanders in all this. 

“WHAT was that?” She immediately blurts out when Eddie returns to his seat, fresh drink in hand. 

You and Steve share a side glance to sigh at Robin’s inability to be subtle, god bless her. Eddie shifts around awkwardly and lets out a forced dry laugh, taking a long sip from his drink before facing the wrath of a curious Robin. 

“Oh, that,” he gestures to the bar as if she could be asking about anything else, “some girl. Not sure.”

“Not sure? Eddie she was FLIRTING with you,” Robin all but yelled, causing Steve to scan the bar to see if the girl in question had landed somewhere within earshot. 

“I know that,” he hisses, “She just… wasn’t my type…”

“Okay sure, hot girl in a tube top and no bra isn’t your type, riiiiight,” Steve rolls his eyes.

“It’s just,” Eddie was so over this inquisition, “she asked if I wanted to get coffee.”

You, Steve, and Robin all give him a blank stare, trying to decipher what he could possibly have against getting coffee with a hot girl. 

“That’s like,” he gets defensive, detecting the wall of confusion facing him, “something people do on a date. Coffee is serious, and I’m not a very serious guy.”

“What do you mean ‘coffee is serious,’ coffee is like, as casual as you can possibly be?” Steve’s tone now emulated Robin’s from earlier, half whispering, half yelling, all scolding towards his friend. 

“That’s just not really my speed. Coffee dates and flowers and hand holding and all that,” he was avoiding eye contact with all three of you, “Yeah, she was hot, sure, and maybe if she had been like ‘hey lets go fool around in the bathroom’ then I wouldn’t be here having this lame ass conversation with you three. But I don’t do coffee dates, so I’m not gonna waste her time and pretend like I’m that sort of guy when I’m just not.” 

“Well good on you for not leading her on, cuz I’m sure you could have agreed to the coffee date and still gotten lucky in the bathroom,” Steve mumbles, and you smack the back of his head lightly to scold him. 

“So you only date girls who’ll fuck you in a bar bathroom the first time you meet?” You redirect your now equally scolding energy to Eddie.

“No!” He runs his hands through his hair, “I don’t date. Anyone, really. At all. Ever.”

“Oh,” you think for a minute, realizing in your few years of friendship you never had seen him with anyone, or heard him mention a romantic interest of any sort. 

Leading you to your present conversation, you and Steve continuing to question Eddie on his decision to reject the hot tube-top girl at the bar and why he felt like coffee was such a scary commitment. 

“You guys know me,” he continued to defend his stance, “If I took that girl out for coffee she probably would have picked some fancy hoity toity place and I wouldn’t know what anything on the menu meant, I’d probably spill something or like, get crumbs everywhere, and the bill would be way more than two coffees should be. It would have been a waste of both our time.”

He was staunchly refusing eye contact with the two of you, knowing he’d be met with something along the lines of pity. 

“Fine, we’ll drop the subject,” you shoot a look to Steve, “but I just need to make sure you understand that not every girl likes expensive coffee, or flowers and handholding, or whatever your expectation of girls and dating is. There’s plenty of girls who have similar interests to you, who feel the same way about PDA and mushy romance stuff that you do. You do know that, right?”

“Of course I do, y/n,” you could practically feel his eyes rolling at you, “but girls like that sure as fuck aren’t here in Nowhere, Indiana. Even if she was, I’m sure I’d still find a way to fuck it up given that I’ve had exactly zero serious girlfriends and the closest thing to a date I’ve ever been on is when you me and Steve pooled our ski ball tickets to win that ugly stuffed turtle.”

The memory of what you had all agreed to be the world’s ugliest stuffed animal caused all of you to crack a smile. Steve had silently agreed to change the subject, not wanting to dig Eddie any deeper into his pit of self despair. 

Steve’s mouth was half open, about to suggest that the three of you have a smoke and watch one of the rental movies he brought over, the words just about to escape him when you harshly cut off any chance at ending the pity-party.

“Date me!” You exclaim, without much thought. The shocked look from both boys caused you to rapidly back pedal , “You can date me, as practice!” You said it as if it was the simplest concept in the world. 

When met with gaping mouths and confused stares you continue on, “You and I can be fake boyfriend-girlfriend for like, a month, and I’ll tell you everything you do wrong, and like generic do’s and don’t’s, so that way the next time some hot girl hits on you, you can be all like ‘Coffee isn’t really my thing pretty lady, but I’d be down to get drinks sometime’,” you did a silly impression of Eddie’s voice, and then switched to a high pitched one to impersonate what you assumed the girl at the bar sounded like, “and then she’d be all like, ‘Oh yeah that sounds greaaaaat, getting coffee is just like, a generic catch-all thing that most people say when they want to get to know someone better, but you can buy me a drink’ and then the two of you will ride off into the sunset and it’ll be great.”

Still no reply.

“It won’t be all romantic and gooey, I promise I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. It’d be a way for you to get some honest feedback and catch up with the stuff most people have to learn the hard way.” 

“I suppose you are the most brutally honest person I know,” Eddie doesn’t sound convinced. 

Steve just looked between the two of you with eyebrows raised, not knowing if giving his opinion on the matter would be appreciated or not. “I guess I would’ve appreciated someone telling me that most girls don’t want to be asked out with a pickup line from a John Hughes movie, would have saved me a few dozen rejections.”

“I’m pretty sure Robin did tell you that…”

“I don’t know y/n,” Eddie scratches his head. 

“It’ll be easy. Ask me out.”

“Huh?”

“Ask me out, for practice, ask me out on a date like I’m a pretty girl you met at some metal show or a DnD convention or something like that,” you stand in front of him with your hands out as if to prompt him to say something. 

“Will you go out with me?” He sounds more like he’s asking himself if he even wants to be asking the question.

“No.”

“What the hell!” He throws his hands up.

“I said no because that wasn’t a very good effort. Go out where? To do what? You’re asking me, a pretend stranger, out on a date Eddie, not if I want to go have a smoke with you.”

“Ughhhh,” he spun around and tried to get some sympathy for Steve, who unfortunately was on your side with this one. 

“A compliment or two doesn’t hurt as well,” Steve added, deepening Eddie’s groan. 

“Hey pretty stranger lady,” his voice was laced with sarcasm, but at least it wasn’t disdain, “you seem really…” he hesitated to find his words, “cool? Would you like to come see my band play this weekend at The Hideout? We-“

“No,” you cut him off.

“WHA-“

“Eddie, you can’t ask a girl to watch Corroded Coffin play for your first date with her, that’s like date four or five material, no girl wants to go sit by herself at a bar to watch some guy she just met play an hour of heavy metal. She would have to know you a little bit more for that to feel organic. Pick something more generic, like coffee.”

“I think you seem cool, would you like to get coffee with me?” it all came out as one monotone mumble from him. 

“Sure,” you wait for him to lift his head up to make eye contact with you, “But coffee isn’t really my thing, maybe we can go out for drinks?”

“Oh fuck off,” he flopped back onto the couch next to Steve. 

“See, now we have our first fake date, and then you can ask me to be your fake girlfriend, and then you’ll be so comfortable with emotional vulnerability that you can find a real girlfriend to take on real dates.”

“Yeah, I suppose it could be beneficial,” Eddie was slowly coming around to the idea. He knew that he was oddly charismatic at times, but he was just always too self conscious to follow through with the whole romance thing.

This maybe wasn’t a bad idea, because he knew you weren’t the kind of person who would make fun of his hobbies, or put him down if he slipped up, the sorts of things he was always afraid of girls doing. Sure, he’ll agree to the girlfriend experience. 

After a night of movies and pizza with Steve fake-third-wheeling, you made sure Eddie knew that the fake-date was actually happening, that the two of you would go out for drinks this weekend as your first official practice date. 

After giving it a bit of thought, you realized that you and Eddie had never hung out alone. In your feeble attempts at flirting with him all those months ago you had invited him to have movie nights or grab a bite to eat, but he always showed up with Steve and or Robin in tow.

As the night of the fake-date rolled around, you’d be embarrassed to admit it to him, or Steve, who didn’t care to hide how skeptical he was about this whole idea, that you went through your normal pre-date routine. You took some extra time on your hair and makeup, exfoliated in the shower, chose an outfit you felt confident in, added a few spritz of perfume for good measure too. 

Eddie rolled up in his van, only a few minutes late, but a few minutes was very impressive compared to his typical chronic tardiness. The two of you agreed to just grab some food and drinks at your usual spot, considering you and Steve openly agreed that it would be a good first date spot in theory. 

“Hey,” he reaches across the center console to pop the door open for you, “you look nice.”

It took you a second to register as you settled into the passenger seat, and then whip around with your arm outstretched to give him a high five. He scrunches his face at you.

“High five me Eddie, that was really good! I know you usually open the door for me anyways, but the compliment right away, A+,” you flop your hand down to gently slap his, still gripping the steering wheel. 

“Don’t patronize me, y/n,” deep down he knew you weren’t trying to talk down to him, and deep down he hadn’t even given complimenting you a second thought, he really did think you looked great in your date get-up. 

On the ride over to the bar, the two of you discuss some logistics. Considering all of this is just practice dating, you don’t expect Eddie to pay for you, but you explain that in theory if he had been the one to ask you out then he should be the one to pay for the first date. 

“To me it’s less of a gender thing and more of a who asked out who thing, but I know some people would abide to the stereotypical ‘the man always pays’ standard, which is why you’d just have to be honest on date like two or three about what you enjoy doing and what sorts of things are in your budget. You can still have fun and be thoughtful without spending a lot of money.”

He asked a few questions, like if he should have gotten you flowers for a first date, or what he should do if someone asks to go to a fancy restaurant that he surely couldn’t afford. You tried your best to give solid advice, but always reminded him that every person is different and every relationship is different, so all he can do is be honest. 

You take up a spot at the bar and both order for yourselves, splitting some fries and slipping into some easy conversation. 

“Am I supposed to, like, beat someone up if a guy tries hitting on you in front of me or something like that?” you nearly choke on your drink at his question. 

“Eddie, no,” you answer, also questioning, “why the hell would you ask me that?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “My buddy Jeff was with his girlfriend at this punk show before they were even together, and some guy made a creepy comment to Amanda and Jeff just decked the guy in the face. He say’s that’s what made her want to date him, cuz he defended her honor or whatever.”

“I guess that’s sort of circumstantial, but I prefer my dates to not engage in any sort of violence,” you sip your drink, “even if it’s for my honor. I’d like your face a lot less if you were all bruised up.”

“Well I never said I would get hit,” the two of you were laughing a bit now.

Over a few cocktails you went over some first date etiquette with him. PDA and being touchy, how to follow her lead and gauge if she’s the type who wants everyone at the bar to know you’re together, or keep it strictly platonic to start. How far of a grip on the leg is too far up, that sort of thing.  

“So if she does something like this,” you fake laugh a bit too loud and, lean into his personal space, and then run your hand from his slender down his arm, “that doesn’t necessarily mean she wants to fuck you, but it’s pretty close. You’ve at least got a green flag to get a little closer to her, tell her she looks nice, maybe offer to buy her a drink.”

“I know how to tell if someone finds me attractive, y/n, I’m not stupid,” he said casually, “obviously that girl the other night was hitting on me, I’m not blind. I wasn’t going to ask to buy her a drink or try and get lucky in the bathroom because I was out with my friends. I can find a quick fuck in a bar on my own time. I was having fun with you guys, I wasn’t going to abandon all of you to talk to some stranger, even if she was hot.”  

“Oh,” you processed his comment, “Steve would be happy to know he ranks above tube-top girl.”

“Steve would be happy to be above tube-top girl in any context,” he jokes. 

“You really just find random girls in bars to fuck?” You question, not in any sort of judgmental way, just curious. 

“Not specifically, I guess I did make myself sound like some serial bar-bathroom type of guy. I never really had girls interested in me when I was in high school, at least the first four years of it. Then when we started playing regular gigs at The Hideout it was a little easier to find girls who were interested, but it was always that they were more into fucking some guy who could play guitar and was in a band, so it usually just always happened on-site, probably cuz they had an actual boyfriend or husband to go home to. Girls think I’m fun. Which isn’t untrue, I do enjoy a romp in the Hideout bathroom, or the back of my van, or wherever we end up.”

“So that’s what all those blankets are back there for,” you say with a fake scowl, referring to his van set-up. 

“Not exclusively! They make a cozy nest for smoking blunts and listening to tapes too!” 

You return to your drink, trying not to think too hard about the girls that Eddie brings to bar bathrooms or his van or wherever. 

“I just find the energy of those situations very different from like, talking and getting to know someone. Fucking is easy. I’m not interested in ruining that by adding emotions and the looming feeling like sex is contingent on me acting a certain way or checking a certain number of boxes for someone.” 

He shrugged, and you could understand where he was coming from, sometimes a quick fuck or hookup could be cathartic and easy. But it also saddened you to think that Eddie believed he had to get in and out before the person on the other end got the chance to know him. 

Moving away from the subject of his inability to be emotionally vulnerable, the two of you practice some cheesy ‘first date’ questions as you had called them. As your drinks started to settle into your system you were having more fun being silly with him, pretending to be a stranger on a first date. 

“When’s your birthday?” You ask, twirling your drink straw with your finger and making some fake flirty eyes at him to accentuate the facade of asking him a bunch of questions you mostly knew the answers to. 

“August 9th,” he flips his hair over his shoulder, joining in on your fake ostentatious flirting. 

“Oh my gosh, a Leo! This will never work out, cuz I’m an asparagus…”

The two of you nearly fall out of your bar stools laughing, realizing you meant to say Sagittarius. 

“Okay, let’s get you home Asparagus,” he helped you up, having kept his drinking to a minimum so he could drive you home. 

“Wait, wait,” you grabbed his arm as the two of you exited the bar, “can we go back to your trailer?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “that’s a little presumptuous for a first date missy.”

“No, no, this isn’t girlfriend y/n asking, just regular friend y/n, who thinks it would be a lot of fun to smoke and watch a movie without Steve there spewing all his annoying fun facts, like, we get it, you read the little insert inside the tape while you were bored at work!”

Eddie did agree that the idea of packing a bowl and watching a few movies with you didn’t sound too different from what his plans would have been otherwise, so he agreed, as long as you promised not to give him any dating advice while hanging out as friend y/n and not girlfriend y/n. 

Although you promised to try your best, you immediately started lecturing him on t-shirt borrowing and the potential weight that could hold in a relationship when he offered to give you some more comfy clothes to change into. 

“It’s important to know!” You emerged from the bathroom in one of his oversized shirts and a pair of boxers, “Some girls are very touchy about it. Any shirt you lend her to sleep in, you have to be willing to sacrifice for life.”

“For life?!” Eddie finishes making a bowl of popcorn for the two of you, swallowing his words when he sees you in his clothes, an unidentifiable emotion rising in him at the sight of you so cozy and integrated into his space. 

“Well maybe not life,” you plop down onto the couch, “but do NOT ask for it back. Most girls will give it back once it stops smelling like you.”

“If she gets my shirt, can I have her underwear?” He asked without thinking, the weed he had just smoked with you hitting him a bit too hard in that moment. 

“Oh my god,” you squeal and bury your face into a pillow, “la la la la, pretending like I didn’t hear that!”

“I’m just saying!” He laughs at you, now curled up into a ball, “fair is fair, right?”

“I guess it depends on the girl,” you mumble. 

“So I’m guessing not you, by your reaction.”

“Eddie!” You smack him with a pillow, “I don’t know, no one’s ever asked!”

“If my girlfriend isn’t going to ask before stealing my shirt for an indefinite amount of time, I think that gives me panty privilege.”

“Wow Eddie, if I had known you were such a perv I would’ve reconsidered being your fake girlfriend,” you say sarcastically, with no real judgement behind it. The idea of him wanting to steal your underwear dampens them ever so slightly. 

“Don’t worry babe, I won’t do anything pervy to you unless you ask nicely,” he shoots a wink at you, which you meet with an eye roll and a turn away to hopefully hide the heat rising in your cheeks. 

The two of you carry out your platonic movie night as planned. You suppressed any urge to note on his actions from a romantic lens, and he ignored the itching desire to sling his arm around your shoulder or pull your legs into his lap to get more comfy on the couch. 

“Can I sleep here Eddie,” you ask after movie two, “too sleepy to move.”

“Sure, I can take the couch and you can have my bed. It’s been a minute since I washed the sheets but it shouldn’t be too bad…”

“Nonono,” you mumble, “Your legs will totally hang right off the end of this thing. I’m conked out anyways, I can crash right here I promise.”

“Ignoring that you’re my fake girlfriend, I’m not letting you sleep out here on this lumpy thing. You’re taking the bed, no arguments.”

He helps you up from the couch, letting you keep the blanket that’s wrapped around you, snaking his arm underneath it and pulling you from the couch by your lower back. You were slightly taken aback by his assistance, body still limp from your relaxed state, your torso easily arching into his. Your arms fly up to grab his shoulders, steadying yourself with an awkward giggle. 

“In the real world, a time like this would be good for a first kiss,” you make note of your closeness, the way he swept you up off the couch and held you steadily as you made your way to your feet. 

“I know that, y/n,” his face was closer to yours than it had ever been, making your words hitch in your throat. 

“Well, I’m just saying,” you turn your head to avoid the tension, “I’m sure the way you kiss your bar-hookups isn’t the way most girls who’re looking to date you long term want to be kissed for the first time.”

‘Oh yeah? And how do you presume that goes?” He kept his hand planted on your lower back.

You pretend to act wildly drunk, throwing yourself at him and letting your limbs go a bit heavier than they already were. “Ohmygod guitar man, I’ve had like, six dirty Shirleys, please finger bang me in the bathroom,” you slur your words and let your tongue loll out the side of your mouth as if to lean in for the world’s sloppiest and most uncoordinated kiss.

“First of all,” his voice was very serious, “I don’t hook up with girls who are too inebriated to stand, let’s get that straight. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t even have our first fake kiss like this on account of the drinking and smoking, gotta make sure you’re in the right headspace. Secondly,” 

He spins you around and quickly backs you up against the wall that stood a few feet behind the couch. His hand sliding up in between your shoulder blades, blanket now slumped around your waist, his other hand suavely cupping the side of your cheek, His hips angled into yours, pinning you back against the vinyl, almost collapsing back into it. 

He pressed against you, not aggressively, but enough to let you know that if you were to try and squirm away he had the capacity to keep you right where he wanted you. He accomplished this all in one elegant motion, leaving you a bit dazed.

As you started to snap into reality, he moves his hand from your cheek down to grab your chin in between his thumb and the knuckle of his pointer, angling your face directly up at him. 

“If you were some girl in a bar, it would be like this.”

The moment before your brain turned to absolute mush, you silently cringed at the thought of what you must look like, mouth hanging open, eyes glassed over, body instinctively sinking into his touch. Pathetic, you were sure of it. 

Sure, Eddie did think you looked a little helpless, but he also thought you looked perfect. Exactly as he had imagined you to in this situation. Of course he had thought about you before, like that.

Of course he had felt an immediate spark with you when you had first met. But he never flirted back, or lead you on, because as much as he was attracted to you and enjoyed your company, he knew that it wouldn’t work out. He wasn’t relationship material, and you were the picture perfect girlfriend that he didn’t deserve. 

He spoke directly into your parted lips, mouth hovering just far enough away to toe the line of ‘holy shit, is he going to?’ But no, as he made very clear, he wouldn’t kiss you under these conditions. He had made his point, and slowly backed off and let you find your footing. 

As soon as he was sure that you were steady, he backed away and started down the hallway. 

“I might have an extra toothbrush stashed away somewhere, let me look…” he ducked into the bathroom, leaving you stunned in the kitchen, head swimming and your stomach traveled up into your throat. 

He was teasing you, he must be. That was his little way of getting back at you for thinking you could give him dating advice. If he was unsure about his capacity for romance, he was going to make sure you knew he was more than capable in other ways. Understood. 

You shook your head, weeding through your inner monologue of how he could possibly look at you like that and then just walk away. Your shock gave him just long enough for you to to not notice him splashing cold water on his face in the bathroom while he “looked for a toothbrush.” 

The two of you decided to ignore the lingering tension from the events in the kitchen, not a peep of fake-girlfriend talk from you for the rest of the night. He did find you that toothbrush, and the two of you moved through a too-easy domestic routine of getting ready for bed. 

You told him that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you knew he was cramped on that couch, and that you were fine with sharing a bed. You mumbled something about  getting around to bed sharing etiquette at some point anyways, and sleepily pulled him into being your little spoon. 

Eddie lay there, trying not to twitch or fidget, relaxed as best he could into your cuddled form thinking about how horrible of an idea all of this was. He was convinced all it would take is roughly ten more minutes of you burying your face into his hair and making cute little sleepy noises for him to fall irreversibly in love with you. 

But what was he supposed to do? Move and wake you up? Never. 

You rolled around enough in the night to wake up in a less intimate position than when you had fallen asleep. You knew Eddie was a deep sleeper, and took it upon yourself to creep out of bed and back into your day clothes, make a pot of coffee, and watc a bit of TV before he roused and joined you in the living room. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He rubbed the crust from his eyes and was pleasantly surprised to see you had brewed a whole pot of coffee to share. 

“You looked so peaceful and cozy,” he shook his head at you, as if that was no excuse for letting him sleep an extra forty minutes.  

After a slow morning, he agrees to drive you home. 

“So this is the part where I say ‘Eddie, I had such a wonderful time on our date. I’d love to do it again sometime.’ And then you agree and tell me when you’re free. It’s best to be super direct and make plans to get together again soon, cuz then it’s not an awkward who’s-gonna-call-who-first sort of thing.”

“Uh-huh…” he stares at you blankly. 

“But for our sake, let’s just agree that I’m in charge of planning our next date. Okay? I���ll do it from the perspective of what I think most girls would enjoy, so you can steal it for the future. I’ll call you later.” 

You hop out of his van before he can agree, and leave him with a “Thanks for letting me stay over!” As you bound away from his view. 

He squeezed his eyes shut the moment he caught himself checking your ass out as you walked away, and let his head rest down on the steering wheel. He was fucked. How the hell was he supposed to tell you that you needed to stop being his fake girlfriend without disrupting the homeostasis of your friendship?

On one hand he could lie and say he doesn’t want your advice, making you think he didn’t enjoy your company, which was entirely untrue. On the other hand he could tell you the truth, and you would never be friends the same way again. 

He drove home with the music too loud, and patiently awaited your call later that evening to iron out the details of your second fake-date. 

Per your instructions, he let you pick him up this time with the argument that you were the one taking him out this time. He didn’t know what you had planned, but let himself fall to the mercy of whatever you had decided was an exemplary date fore him to ‘steal in the future’. 

You picked up two coffees and rolled up to the trailer park, popping a mix-tape he had made you ages ago. 

“Hey, I thought we said no paying for each other with fake-dating,” he objects to the coffee sat in the passenger cupholder, some abomination of mostly cream and sugar, the way you know he likes it. 

“Yes, that’s true, but you smoked me up the other night, and this coffee was like a dollar fifty, so don’t worry about it,” you give him a look that tells him to drink the damn coffee and not sass back, to which he complies, even though he smokes you up expecting nothing in return about every other weekend. 

The two of you sip away and listen to Eddies ‘must-know-to-be-my-friend’ mixtape and arrive shortly at the strip mall across town. This was a regular weekly stop for both of you, the strip of connected stores containing the Goodwill, a pet store, the pharmacy, and grocery. A pretty mundane collection. 

“Okay, what are we doing at Greg’s?” Eddie gestures to the grocery store, the back of his mind running through the grocery list he’s been making for this week anyways.

“What’s the perfect date?” You ask, and answer for him, “a romantic picnic. But gathering supplies is half the fun. Picnic food supplies at Greg’s, some pills to get fucked up at the pharm, some turtles or something to let loose into the wild from the pet store, and then hats, cups, blanket, etcetera from the Goodwill.”

He turns to you with the most bewildered stare, which sends you into a fit of giggles.

“Okay, I’m joking about the pills and the turtles,” you nudge his arm, “but won’t it be sweet to get together some picnic supplies and then drive out to lookout point? We can still swing by the pet store to check out the ferrets though.”

To Eddie, the idea of a date involved him doing something he didn’t want to do, some awkward small talk, and spending money on shit he truly thought was useless. This didn’t sound half bad. You would “work backwards so the food purchases come last” according  to your reasoning, and he followed you in tow without any arguments into the Goodwill.

“So I’m thinking…” you start to wander into the aisles of used clothes and knick knacks, “maybe a blanket? A basket would be sort of corny, but if we find one for cheap I don’t see why not. Surely two glasses for drinking, and maybe some sun hats?”

Swiveling back around to see a half stunned Eddie, who was still processing how in the hell this was your idea of a romantic date, you grab his hand and pull him to the bric-a-brac section. 

After it got through his thick skull that the same place he had uncomfortably tried on new pants throughout his growth spurt, and picked up his daily-worn leather jacket, had the same potential to provide some silly, cheap, used items to add some flair to this picnic. 

Silly and cheap was right up Eddie’s alley. The two of you picked out mismatched champagne glasses, one with the engraved name of a couple who got married in 1943 and the other a flashy rose color with baby angel carvings dancing around the sides. 

You luckily find an on sale beach blanket, and the two of you pick out some very goofy sun hats. A floppy farmers hat for you, and a bedazzled trucker hat spelling ‘hot mama’ for Eddie.

Through the midst of your giggles and debate on whether you should buy a wooden bench to bring out to your picnic destination, Eddie found himself having a really good time with you. 

As promised, you visited the pet store and checked out the ferrets and fish and geckos. 

“If you could have any pet, what would you want?” You asked him, noses pressed against the chinchilla enclosure. 

“Jaguar,” he said, a little too quickly.

“For real, dummy,” you knock your hip into his.

“I don’t know, we never had enough space or extra money for pets growing up, so maybe someday if I had enough room for it to run around I’d like a dog or something,” he tells. Eyes still transfixed on the chinchilla behind the glass. 

“I can see that,” you imagine Eddie with some mutt from the shelter, wrestling around and giving it lots of scratches behind the ears. 

Skipping the pharmacy, you pop into the grocery store and assemble what may be the world’s most eclectic picnic. 

“That’s the definition of a picnic, I’m pretty sure,” you explain after Eddie insinuated that the gingersnap cookies you grabbed, along with grapes and a block of cheese, wasn’t exactly a meal, “you know, just a smorgasbord of whatever we want!”

Admittedly, Eddie had considered a handful of pretzels and a beer to be dinner on more than one occasion, so he couldn’t argue with you. Quickly catching your drift, the two of you picked out an assortment of snacks and some ingredients for pb&j sandwiches. 

“I thought picnics were supposed to be classy?” Eddie holds up the Wonder bread and bag of potato chips with a look that suggested his question was rhetorical.

Your response was simply to raise the, admittedly cheap, bottle of champagne you grabbed to accompany with your meal, more for the irony of drinking the bubbly liquid out of your new used glasses with your sticky sandwiches than anything else. 

You pack your supplies into a tote bag, not having found a suitable basket at the thrift store, and drive across town to a dirt paved road that leads to a nice lookout point with a view of the lake. 

“Let’s walk down the path a little bit, but not too far,” you grab the blanket and tote bag from your trunk, motioning for Eddie to put on his ‘hot mama’ hat and carry your other auxiliary supplies, “I do not fuck with bugs.”

“I’ll protect you,” Eddie puffs out his chest, making you both giggle.

“From bugs?”

“Yeah, I’ll punch a mosquito right in the face, to defend your honor and all that.”

“I know I told you not to do that, but a mosquito might be the exception to the rule.”

You found a nice little clearing not far from the car, a spot that still had a nice view but was a bit more secluded. Eddie sat pressed right up next to you, making your sandwich ‘to be a proper gentleman’ but simultaneously spilling a glob of jelly onto your leg.

“Shit,” he doesn’t think twice before leaning down and slurping the grape flavored blob off of your bare knee, tongue poking out and licking the spilt jelly from your skin.

“Eddie!” You squirm away, barking out a surprised laugh. 

“What! Your knee is clean, wouldn’t want to waste perfectly good preserves, or a napkin.”

You feel your skin tingle where his lips had touched you, for only a moment, but you still felt it. He was so confident and casual in his movements, not having any hesitation to grab your hand or brush your hair out of your face. It wasn’t under the guise of fake romance, he had always been like that. Not touchy, per se, just sure of himself. You’d never seen Eddie do anything half assed, that’s for certain.

After the conversation you shared the other night, you were unable to stop your mind from wandering to thoughts of what Eddie does with those girls in bars, if he touched him with the same confidence and sureness he put into everything else he did. 

It was wrong to let your mind go to such dirty places about someone you considered a friend, but you couldn’t manage to feel any guilt. He had offered that information freely, so who were you to punish yourself for staring a little longer at his fingers, conjuring up the context in which he’d bury them inside you against some grimy bar bathroom. 

The date was all peanut butter smiles and bubbly laughter that floated up into the trees. Silly, yes, but neither of you could deny there was something sweet, maybe even romantic about it. A cheap meal in the woods shared between two friends in ill-fitting fifty cent hats, but an undeniable touch of romance lingered nonetheless. 

Eddie started to realize that maybe the whole dating thing wasn’t as uptight and scary as he had initially thought. It could be easy and fun, with the right person. And fuck, if he could even imagine doing this with anyone but you. 

Like most things Eddie did, he did not consider any potential consequences before acting. You looked so pretty sitting there in the sunshine, sipping from your cheap ‘Martha & Dave ’43’ glass, a few sandwich crumbs dotting the corner of your mouth.

What else was he supposed to do other than lean over and wipe them away with his thumb, stroking your soft cheek and feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm. 

“You had some,” he uses his other hand to motion at his own mouth, “and I suppose this is the sort of moment where I’d ask if I can kiss you.” 

You find yourself a bit dumbfounded, his big stupid hand on your cheek and those big stupid puppy dog eyes unrelenting in making everything he says seem so genuine.

“Are you?” You find your voice, only half embarrassed at how shy it comes out.

“Am I what?”

“Are you asking me?”

“Yeah,” his answer comes out in a way that insinuates that he never meant anything other than that, that he was always asking to kiss you, he wasn’t asking in theory, in another universe, in the context of advice. 

“Okay,” you found yourself behaving like Eddie, not really thinking of consequences before your words and actions spoke on behalf of your instincts.

Everything so far had been so easy. Your fake first date at the bar, curling up next to him in a haze, making up stories about what sort of people donated the fake palm tree or the Garfield mug at the Goodwill, imagining Eddie running around a yard with a puppy, lounging in the grass and eating your assorted picnic snacks. It was all effortless.

Suddenly, being kissed by Eddie sucked the ease from your lungs and sent your mind spiraling into a cacophony of bells and whistles and giant swirling red flags. If this is how he kissed you, casually across some half eaten peanut butter sandwiches, you’d spend the rest of your days yearning to know how he kissed someone with true intention. 

Of course, his intentions were all there, but the lingering knowledge that all of this was happening under the umbrella of “you giving him advice” or “helping practice for the next girl” poisoned any true feeling he poured into it. He cupped your cheek, soft, let his lips press into yours delicately for a moment before he felt your breath hitch, opening his mouth just enough to deepen the kiss and capture your lower lip fully. 

He was more careful, gentle, methodic with his movements and so receptive to every little signal your body gave him, it was unlike any first-kiss, heat-of-the-moment-kiss, in-the-throws-of-passion-kiss, any of it. Like hell you’d ever tell him that, inflate that big ego that fuels his snippy comebacks at you, but Jesus, was it remarkable. 

While at war with yourself internally, your heart was on the precipice of exploding in your chest from the way he snaked his hand into your hair and pressed his forehead against yours to catch a breath. You suck in a sharp breath and feel that stupid cocky smirk creep up onto that pretty mouth of his.

“’S that sufficient for a first kiss?”

“Fuck offfff,” you were still a little out of breath, smacking his chest and flopping back down onto the picnic blanket, throwing your arms up and rolling your eyes at him, “if you’re so damn confident, maybe we just should fake break up, cuz you don’t seem like you need my advice.”

“Nooooo,”he slumps down next to you, burrowing his head under your arm so he can pop up right next to your face, “I’m learning a lot, I promise! This date was so fun, and cheap! I would have never thought any of this could be remotely romantic. I’m hopeless, y/n, look at me.”

He wriggles around and gives you a big fake pout, “If left to my own devices I would probably do something horribly embarrassing or off-putting, like…” he digs his head into the crook of your neck and blew a fat, wet raspberry right into your skin, making you yelp and squeal, but his position half on top of you pins you down. 

“See!” He pulls up for air, you were in a fit of screaming giggles, “I’d go right in for a kiss and just,” and he does it again, leaving you gasping for air, trying your best to tickle his ribs to get him off of you, but not minding the close contact by any means. 

“Now I’m not so sure,” he pulls back to give you a minute to catch your breath, “it seems like you enjoyed that, so maybe survey says I should pull that move on the ladies.”

Your airy laughter subsided, but he stays half pinning you down to the blanket and the lumpy grass underneath.

“I didn’t mean to give you the impression that I’m not grateful for your help,” he says earnestly, catching your gaze, “it’s just… this isn’t what I need help with.”

As his statement is processing, you find his lips back on yours, his torso pressed flushed with yours and his wild mane of hair coming down to curtain around your head. He doesn’t take it too far, but kisses you as earnestly as he had before, giving your lip a slight drag with his teeth and running his hand up from your hip up the side of your ribcage, leaving you arching slightly into him by pure instinct.

Before your head got too dizzy again, before you could really throw yourself into it and say fuck it and kiss him back the way you secretly wanted to, he pulled back.

“That.” his voice was even, you hated how needy you felt and how even keeled he could be milliseconds after stealing the air from your lungs, “It’s the rest of it,” he threw his hands up and gestured to all the food and knock knacks around you, “it’s this stuff that you make seem so easy, so forgive me if I lay it on a little thick when we get to the parts I’m actually good at.”

“Just,” you sat up a bit, grounding yourself and formulating a response despite your brain looping the past twenty seconds back infinitely, “don’t do that again.”

“Okay,” he sat back and popped a grape into his mouth, “sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you knocked his knee with yours, struggling to articulate how you felt without showing too much of your hand, deciding to just be candid, “I just- I liked that a little too much if you know what I mean. And this is strictly business, or education, maybe?”

“You liked it when I pinned you against the wall the other night,” he said matter of factly, “I think you liked that a little too much too, and you still took me on this fake educational business date.”

“Yeah, well, you caught me,” you threw your hands up in defense.

“Which one is it though?” He asks and you don’t quite understand, “are you a sweet kiss on the picnic kind of girl, or an up against the wall kind of girl?”

“That’s none of your business, as far as fake-dating is concerned,” you say a little too quickly, “and no you can’t have my panties.”

You say it with a smirk, but he doesn’t press any further. He turns and does that Eddie-thing he’s so good at, just changing the subject and shifting the vibe completely away from what might have been a stale moment or awkward pause. He starts asking if you like green or purple grapes better, going off about how he used to put them in the freezer as a kid. 

The remainder of your date went without a hitch, of course. You picked away at your picnic until the sun started to set, and once the sky started turning purple you made your way back to the car. The drive home consisted only of easy conversation and no further mention of the kiss, well, kisses that had transpired. He hopped out of the passenger seat with a ‘thank you’ and a ‘see ya later alligator.’ 

A scalding hot shower, a restless night of sleep, and too many cups of herbal tea the next morning did nothing to quell the noise in your head that blasted those moments over and over. You couldn’t stop picking apart whether he had thought about it for even a millisecond, and felt embarrassed that you could think of nothing else. 

It was simply an amplified version of what your whole friendship had been up until this point. You silently admiring him and wishing he would look at you the way you looked at him, and settling for friendship over heartbreak. 

Pushing it aside to the best of your ability allowed you to get through your week, but you had the lingering feeling that the next time you saw him would strike you with warm cheeks and a scrambled mental state.

Guilt had started to seep in at the corners of your mind, but you reminded yourself that you shouldn’t punish yourself for having romantic or sexual thoughts about someone you simply found attractive and compelling, it was your actions that would determine the validity of your guilt. 

“Long time no see, loser,” Robin hollered from the pool table across the bar, where she was likely kicking Steve’s ass. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” you shrug off your coat and plop down at their regular booth, knowing her jabs were entirely empty. You notice Eddie’s leather jacket hung up by the wall, and scan the bar to find him ordering a drink. 

There was a silent mutual understanding that you’d keep the fake dating thing to a bare minimum when out with your friends like this. Even though Steve was well aware, and therefore Robin was too, you figured tainting your social time with the performance of romance is the exact reason Eddie turned down the girl at the bar in the first place. 

“For the lady,” Eddie waltzes over and hands you a drink.

“Oh, thanks,” you take it with a confused smile, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“You bought me coffee last weekend,” he sat across the booth from you, “plus I’m trying to get better at buying drinks for pretty girls, right?”

You remind him that he doesn’t have to keep tabs on things like coffee, but you appreciate the gesture regardless. As per the past few times you’d been out with your friends, you expected him to put a pause on the flirting, but it seems to be bubbling over tonight. You weren’t complaining, but admittedly the arm around your shoulder or the noticeable way he checked you out when you got up to refill your drink took you by slight surprise. 

Sneaking in to claim the always occupied dart board for a challenge against Eddie while he uses the restroom, you keep your eyes on the corner of the bar to signal him over once he returns.

“You need a partner?” A man suddenly appears behind you, a little closer than you’d like but the bar was crowded, so you’ll let it slide. 

“Oh, I was just waiting for-“

“Let me fill in until your friend gets here, we can get you warmed up, yeah?” His tone wasn’t too pushy, but you didn’t love the look he gave you when making that comment.

Awkwardly staggering for a second, unsure weather to just agree or tell him to fuck off, “He really should be just a minute-“

“Or maybe less,” Eddie comes up right behind you and pulls you possessively into his side.

Your head whips up to see him with a devilish smile, his hand on your waist and the fire behind his eyes telling his guy to get lost.

“Oh, sorry man,” the guy starts backing away with an apologetic look.

“Yeah, better luck next time, pal,” Eddie snakes around to take the guy’s spot in front of the dart board.

He had his darts in hand and took his stance to start the match, gesturing for you to do the same. 

“What was that,” you ask with a slight joking tone, but seriously curious.

“What?” He doesn’t make eye contact and instead throws the first dart, “I’m not allowed to get fake jealous?”

“You’re allowed to feel any fake emotion you want, I guess,” your tone is somewhere in between a joke and a question. 

“You’d feel fake jealous if I was getting blown in the bathroom by some chick rather than playing darts with you, I bet.”

“Okay,” your tone shifts to defensive, “getting blown is very different than some guy asking to play darts with me.”

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” Eddie turns to face you, having thrown all his darts, “for real.”

A moment lapsed where you didn’t register that your mouth was hanging open in disbelief, the look in your eyes Eddie immediately clocked as lust and bottled up to store away for a later time. 

“I knew the scary dog thing would work,” his ‘i-told-you-so’ tone rubbed you the wrong way, but he wasn’t wrong, “you said girls weren’t into that, but you totally looooove that I defended your honor.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, I said girls wouldn’t be into it if you punched him,” you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t know, babe, I think you liked the whole ‘back off of my woman’ act.”

You mumble out a ‘whatever’ and let him have this win, which he was clearly reveling in, trying to focus instead at beating him at darts. 

“Just don’t pull shit like that on a first date, acting too possessive off the bat is a huge red flag for a lot of women.”

“I thought we weren’t doing dating advice tonight?” You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s got that stupid sarcastic smile.

“Yeah I thought so too,” you fail at your attempt to beat him in darts, as well as your attempt to not flirt back with him. 

He insists on collecting all the darts, picking up the ones haphazardly strews across the floor from failed attempts to hit the board. 

“I’m no pro or anything, but I think you’d hit the board a lot more if you fixed your stance.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you flip him the bird and take back your red tipped darts. 

As you steady your arm to aim your first shot he comes up behind you and grabs your hips, causing you to let out an unexpected squeak. He adjusts your stance, not aggressively, but with some force, twisting your hips and using his big combat boot to sweep your foot around so you stood more sideways. 

“You’re standing straight on,” he backs up, allowing you to secretly catch your breath, “and all your shots are veering to the right. If you plant your feet more angled you’ll hit the board.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, miss on purpose to show him he’s full of shit. You flippantly toss the dart, not trying particularly hard, and it hits. Not a bulls-eye or anything like that, but a lot closer than your previous attempts had been. 

“Good girl,” he comments, leaning in to breech your personal space just enough to make your blood boil.

You drop the remainder of the darts in your opposite hand onto the floor and whip around to face him, half jokingly smacking him on the shoulder. 

“Oh my god, fuck off!”

You’re met with his trademark shit-eating grin.

Truthfully, Eddie hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off you all night. He’d spent the night after your picnic date with his hand in bis boxers, squeezing his eyes shut and remembering the little gasp you had made when he grabbed your waist, the hum in your throat that bubbled up when he kissed you pinned against the blanket, that night and every night since. 

“Oh, you don’t like that?” that joking tone he uses to cover up what he actually wants to say. 

“Shut up, you know I do,” you didn’t even try to stifle your reaction, knowing it was his intent to get under your skin.

“How would I possibly know that,” he playfully looks up at the ceiling and around the bar, hands clasped behind his back now, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“You better cut that shit out, unless you plan on doing something about it,” you manage the most assertive tone your wobbly insides could muster, a little shocked at yourself for actually saying what you were thinking. 

“I’m not much of a planner,” he gracefully takes a stance next to you and rips all three darts, not great shots, but all hitting the board, “I’m more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy, you know that.”

“Well your pants better make up their mind if you’re playing boyfriend tonight or not,” your insinuation was heavy but you had fumbled your hand, and he had already seen all your cards at this point, so there was no reason to bluff.

“The real question is,” he leans in, his imposing figure crowding your space in a way that made your head spin, “do you want me to play boyfriend? Or do you want me to play guy who fucks your brains out in the bar bathroom?”

Your eyebrows pinched together for a millisecond, and before he could decipher your expression you grabbed his hand and started storming through the crowds hoarded by the bar. Why the hell a seedy downtown bar has a single stall family bathroom with a changing table is beyond you, but you drag him inside and slam the lock down behind you. 

“You’re not allowed to treat me any differently after this,” you start to fall into the sinkhole of oh my god what the hell is about to happen, but are cut off by him pressing you against the closed door the exact way he had handled you against his kitchen wall that night weeks ago. 

“Not unless you want me to,” he doesn’t hesitate to get his mouth on yours, immediately pulling your mind from wondering what the vague sticky substance on the door pressing into your back could be. 

“I mean, you’re not allowed to fuck me and then never talk to me again,” you say in between moving lips and tongues, giving him a moment to bury his face in your neck, "Promise me."

“Oh don’t worry about that,” he pulls back, “we can go get coffee tomorrow and you can give me a full performance review. Promise.”

Your annoyed eye roll quickly turns into them fluttering shut as he licks a stripe up to the junction behind your ear that has you melted into a boneless puddle between his pressing hips and the door. He drags his teeth across your lobe while leaning into you with a black denim clad thigh.

“Why don’t we make a deal,” you let out, voice breathy and unfocused. Before he can even pull back to reply you continue, “if you’re half as good at this as you claim to be, and can make me cum in this dingy bathroom, I’ll let you take me back to your trailer and you can do whatever the fuck you want to me.”

He was leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss before he could even process your request, because yes of course, a million times yes he’s taking this deal. Despite the rouse of you playing bar hookup for the night, and despite the idea of bringing you back to his place and finally doing what he’s wanted since the day he met you absolutely terrifying him, he nods and kisses you. 

It’s electrifying. His confidence only spurs you on to kiss him harder, grip his hair a little tighter, say the things you would only imagine in the deepest parts of your mind. The feeling of his grin against your lower lip and his fingers quickly unbuttoning your jeans fuels your fire. 

“You sure you know what you’re getting into,” he mumbles playfully, pulling you away from the wall with a gasp and leading you over to the tiny built in counter against a mirror by the sink. 

“Well I’m certainly not letting you fuck me against any of these sticky surfaces,” you note as you’re lifted onto the counter covered in mystery substance, “and I think you need to earn it.”

Of course it was no surprise to you that Eddie was good with his fingers. You probably could have told anyone that long before this impromptu bathroom hookup. Egging him on and challenging him in a way you were sure he wasn’t used to was well worth abandoning your assumptions. 

“Oh yeah? I think, if you’re lucky, I’ll earn it more times than you can count before the night’s over,” he positioned himself in between your legs, pressing your torso into the mirror behind you as he leaned in for another heated kiss. 

He pulled your ass to the edge of the counter, and looped his thumbs into the waistband of your unbuttoned pants. You were quick to assume that he’d yank the fabric right off your legs, preparing to lift your ass from the counter to assist.

Eddie paused, pulled back and gave you a look that asked ‘you’re sure about this?’ and when a dreamy smile spread across your cheeks he melted into you with a kiss that turned your stomach inside out and made your pussy flutter.

He snakes a hand from its grip on your torso down into your unbuttoned pants. You arched up into his touch, wanting to urge him to get on with it and get your pants and underwear out of the way, but appreciating how much he seemed to be reveling in feeling you for the first time. 

“So fuckin wet,” he mumbled against your lips, his fingers only feeling up your cunt from outside your underwear. He pressed the fabric into your slick center, following the path up to your clit and then teasingly back down to where your panties were soaked through.

“You weren’t lying when you said you liked this a little too much,” he’s rolling his hips ever so slightly against your spread thigh as he rubs your clothed pussy, his teeth sinking into your lower lip as he moves the material aside and sinks two fingers right into your wet cunt with ease.

You were sure that you’d retrospectively have a million quippy compacks that come to mind, but in this moment it was impossible to come up with words when his fingers were buried inside you, still, just letting you squeeze around them, and his hard cock straining against his jeans nestled against the inside of your thigh.

He slowly drags his finger’s up from your hole to your clit, and you let out a whine of desperation as he fully removes his hand from your damp underwear. 

Before you can manage the breath to tell him to please, for the love of god, get on with it, he brings his fingers up to his lips and gives them a long suck, never breaking eye contact with you. 

“Yeah,” he sighs out and presses his forehead against yours, “I might like that a little too much too.”

Protests and urging words catch in your throat as he yanks down your pants and underwear with one quick pull, not even needing you to lift your ass off the counter more than it already was. He was methodical and moved with intention, folding up your pants neatly and shoving your soaked panties into his back pocket, shooting you a wink. 

“Eddie, please,” your overdue complaints are finally bubbling over. You hardly finish your plea before his face is buried in your neck, and his fingers are sliding right back into your needy hole. 

The top of your head rests against the mirror behind you, exposing your neck and arching your back into his touch. He sucks and nips at the soft skin between your collar bone and ear, all while letting his two middle fingers pump slowly into you.

“Mmmm,” he mumbles into the crook of your jaw, “such a good girl for me, perfect pussy squeezing my fingers so tight, can’t fuckin wait to feel you soak my cock.”

Nearly orgasming at his words alone, your eyes flutter shut and you let out a moan of his name as he lets his thumb drag circles across your clit. “Eddie, please, just like that, I-”

“Oh, suddenly she’s not questioning my abilities?” he says with a biting smirk, “What was that about me not being half as good as I think I am?”

“Fuck,” you want to raise an eyebrow and shoot something back, hold out and make him work for it, but after hardly two minutes of his fingers rolling inside you, hooked up to drag along that perfect fucking spot, you had no choice but to feed his ego and let him win. 

“You wanted to make your little deal,” he pumps a little faster, making your head loll to the side and mouth hang half open, “I’ll sweeten it for you, babe. I say we can get this pretty pussy to come twice all over my fingers before anyone even knocks on this door.”

“Yes,” is all you can squeak out, “yes, please.”

If Eddie was being honest, he was a few half-thrusts into your thigh short of coming in his own pants from how hot you looked. Your eyes glassed over, pretty lips parted and gasping his name, perfect cunt sucking his fingers in. 

The hand not occupied by your gushing cunt slid up to cup the side of your cheek, forcing you to look into his fiery eyes. “Feel’s good?” he questions, knowing the answer and not expecting a verbal response.

He drags the pad of his thumb up to your parted lips, running it along your plush bottom lip and dragging it down a bit, relishing in how under his spell you were. His thumb slips into your mouth and you immediately wrap your lips around it and suck. 

“Good girl,” his thumb on your clit is rubbing more focused circles, “suck on that and keep your voice down, don’t want the whole bar knowing what a good little slut you are for me.”

Jackpot. 

A muffled moan around his thumb and the spasming of your inner walls signaled that you were hitting your peak. He drags the spit slicked digit from your lips and quickly replaces it with his lips and tongue, kissing you with fervor as he feels you ride out your orgasm on his hand. 

“Mmmmmmm” you moan, somewhere between a pleading whine and a sigh of satisfaction into his lips as his fingers don’t let up. 

Under different circumstances you would tell him to slow down, give you a minute to catch your breath. Eddie was stubborn, this you knew, and he had already made it abundantly clear that one orgasm wasn’t going to be enough. 

He pulls back from your lips, loving the sharp intake of breath you swallow as your cheeks continue to flush and eyelids keep fluttering. 

“So fucking good, came all over my fingers,” his gaze locks in on where his hand was buried into your cunt. “Gonna give me one more?”

Of course you would, whether it was up to you or not. He did slow up for a second, just enough for you to regain your grip on reality before he started curling them up again. 

“Eddie,” you whine out, eyes nearly crossed and unable to focus your attention on his face, hands, anything other than his boner poking into your inner thigh, “wanna feel you.”

The hand formerly gripped tight onto the edge of the counter snakes forward and pulls his hip into you, a permanent indentation of his stiff cock molding against your skin. 

“Not yet baby,” he rolls his hips forward, giving you a delicious feel of how it would be if he was inside you, but instead pushing his fingers a touch deeper and then pulling his hips away, “one more and then I’ll take you home. You’re gonna let me ruin that perfect little cunt, right? That was the deal?”

“Yes,” you gasp out, his other hand moving from your hair down to rub fast tight circles on your clit, the other hand still pumping steadily inside you.

“That’s right, I know this pussy is gonna take me so well. You’re already drooling for my cock, so fucking perfect.”

You feel it building up again, that sacred double orgasm that only ever came during your alone time in the shower or when you were so desperate for release that your hand didn’t stop after the first, but never with another person, never like this. 

His smile nearly touched his ears at this point, pulling back to take in all of you as your eyes screwed shut and thighs threatened to break his wrist at how fast they snapped together. 

Hitting you like a punch to the gut, your abdomen tightened and released rapidly, air sucked from your lungs and his hand working you through it between your clenched thighs. 

Yeah, maybe this was a bad idea. 

If you were in a cartoon, stars and chirping birds would be swirling around your head as you slowly came back to reality. He gave you some space, and begrudgingly gave you pack your panties after you hand out your hand and gave him a stern look.

“I’m gonna go tell the others that you aren’t feeling great and I’m taking you home,” he makes sure you’ve pulled your pants back up before unlocking the door, “Take your time, and I’ll meet you at the van, okay? I’ll grab your stuff.”

“Yeah,” you still feel a little flustered, looking back into the mirror and smoothing down your hair, “thanks.”

He shoots you a wink before slipping out, giving you a moment to collect yourself and splash some cold water on your face. Okay, so you’re doing this. 

Any nagging feelings that this might ruin things or that he’s only teasing you because of your arrangement are quickly squished down into a deeper compartment of your brain, overtaken by the post orgasm bliss and wandering thoughts of what might happen next. 

You peek your head out of the bathroom door, and slink your way to the back door without passing your group table or a stray Steve or Robin. The fresh air equalizes your buzzing thoughts, and you spot Eddie, already in the driver’s seat of his van. 

“You good?” He asks as you hop into the passenger seat. You won’t let him have the upper hand, just because he made you come twice in under ten minutes. 

“Yeah,” you gather as much assertion as your voice will project, “You good?”

“F’course,” he starts backing up, you internally roll your eyes at the way his outstretched arm muscles and curved neck make your stomach flutter, “Just wanted to make sure I passed the test.”

You sit in silence, not wanting to give into the cocky game he clearly wants to play, yet know that he’s entirely correct in his assumption that he’s driven you completely crazy. Once he’s on the main stretch of road, finally rolling to a stop at a red light you let your hand migrate across the center console, dancing its way into his lap. 

As you hoped, his cock was still half hard and apparent underneath his jeans. You let your hand draw circles next to it, loving the little twitch you get when you run your nails against his thigh. 

“Easy there, tiger,” he lets out a huffed laugh, with just an edge to his tone that suggested you were getting yourself into something you’d soon regret. 

“C’mon Eds,” you let your head fall on the corner of the headrest, gaze angled over at his tight grip on the steering wheel while your hand dancing around the bulge in his pants, “you’ve been pushing this thing against my thigh for the past twenty minutes, forgive me for wanting a better feel.”

You put on a pretend pouty face and flash him your best puppy dog eyes to ward off any incoming snippy comments from him. He rolls his pretty eyes at you and silently bites the inside of his cheek as you feel up and down his lap, grazing his growing cock with each pass. 

“Forgiven,” through gritted teeth, he squeezes his eyes shut as your fingers circle around his head, now taking visible form beneath his black jeans. He internally reprimands himself for losing focus on the road, and zeroes his concentration on getting back to his trailer as fast as this van can take him. 

You have your fun watching him wiggle in his seat, feeling his thigh muscles clench under your palm every so often. You weren’t full on jerking him off over his pants, but you were certainly relishing in the feeling of his dick getting harder and harder with each occasional pass of your hand.

He parks diagonally across the lawn in front of his trailer, not giving a shit where the van ends up as long as it’s stopped. He wanted to dash around the vehicle and scoop you out of your seat, throw you over his shoulder and take you inside to continue with whatever this evening had in store for you.

The second his hand stalled on the clutch, shifting the van into park and taking a moment to let his mind wander to what would happen once he got you inside, you were already halfway out the van and skipping up the steps to his front door. 

Entering his trailer, you start taking off your coat and shoes, trying to act as normal as possible. Your facade of keeping it cool entirely shatters when he enters behind you, calmly clicking the door shut and patiently waiting for you to finish unlacing your boots.

You remain crouched down, darting your eyes up at him, deciding against being a brat and undoing your laces as slowly as possible to keep him waiting. Any caution you had was long swept away by the wind, and he’d taken control in your little bathroom tryst, so it was your turn to say fuck it and just do what felt right. 

And in this moment, there was only a few quick movements and about six inches of space between you and Eddie’s semi-hard dick. One shoe was only half off, haphazardly kicked behind you as you pivoted onto your knees and had your hands moving eagerly up his tensing thighs.

“Can I?” Your question was half formed and he was already nodding. 

You’d teased him enough on the ride over, you wanted him, now. Pants quickly unbuttoned and blue checkered boxers pushed down to his knees, and you were about to go feral and just go for it when a silver glimmer adorning his thick cock caught your eye.

Your mouth was already half open, but your jaw nearly unhinged and hit the floor when the pierced head of his dick falls out of his boxers and lands at your eye level. 

Unmoving, mouth agape, you look up to make eye contact, ripping your eyes away from the shock of two silver balls on his cockhead. He knew it was nice, he wouldn’t have bedazzled it if it wasn’t, but the look you were giving him sucked all the unwavering confidence from his body for a split second, suddenly feeling weak in the knees at the sight of you slowly sicking your tongue out, not making any contact but waiting. 

He took the base of his dick in his hand and gave it a few precautionary strokes before angling it down and slapping your wet tongue with the tip a few times. 

You were two and a half seconds away from being entirely fucked out. If he pulled away and asked you to crawl on all fours to him, you’d do it without a second thought.

You let him slide his cock gently against your outstretched tongue a few times before coming to your senses and wrapping your lips around him, moving your hand to replace his and move against the length that your mouth couldn’t yet reach. 

All it took was a few steady bobs of your head, hand twisting and eyes still focused upwards on his face, to have him biting his knuckle and looking up at the ceiling to ground himself to try and not bust on the spot. You love this, of course, seeing him visibly spiral paired with the salty taste of precum already leaking from him. 

The hand not jerking him off comes up to the back of his hip, gently pushing against him in tandem with the movements of your head, encouraging him to shallowly thrust into your mouth.

“Jesus fu-“ he grunts out, not wanting to overestimate your encouragement, but unable to keep his hips from rolling forward slightly with the push of your hands and the bob of your lips. 

After an unexpected snap of his hips that sent his cock sliding into the back of your throat, making you gag slightly, a pang of guilt struck through him for pushing too hard. That was, until you let your head pull back a touch to catch your breath, but a long string of spit connected your lips to his cock, and a wild smile broke across your face that nearly sent him to the moon. 

You dove back in and pushed his cock all the way into the back of your throat, going so far that your nose pressed into the patch of dark curls that sat above his perfect dick. Focusing your breathing through your nose, you make a point to constrict your throat a few times until you feel him twitch inside you.

Pulling off with a gasp for air, you notice his eyebrows pinched together and gaze locked on you. 

“I like how these feel,” you comment, letting your pointed tongue dance around the metal balls on his tip.

He shudders and you clench your thighs at the sight of his stomach muscles tensing up when your tongue makes contact with the underside of his head, right where it meets the shaft. 

“If I let you fuck my mouth until you come, are you still going to be able to give it to me in a bit, or are you a one and done kind of guy?” You ask with a playfully teasing tone, but genuinely want to know if you suck him off to completion if the night will be over or not. 

“Fuck,” he spits out, more blood rushing to his cock at the idea of coming down your throat, “I’d fuck you all night if you’d let me babe.”

Half a second doesn’t pass before his cock is back in your mouth, hips shakily moving forward with your movements, gaining confidence as you flicker your eyes up at him through your lashes, the glimmer in them telling him he can take what he wants. 

“Fuckin’ look at you,” he comments to himself, “takin’ it all.” 

“Mhmmm,” you hum around him letting your tongue roll around his tip each time before he pushes his cock back down your throat. 

“You think you can get away with teasing me like that? That shit you pulled in the van back there, you think it’s cute to try and get me all riled up?”

You nod, tongue out and saliva coating your lips and chin. You could tell he was close by the way his words came out staggered, and his hips started snapping towards you in a new tempo, like his body was chasing it. 

Grunts and moans pulled from his chest fill the space mixed with the hums of satisfaction you let out while you take him deeper and faster. Moving in for the kill, you carefully slip your hand up in between his legs, cupping his balls, trying your best not to startle him. 

“Oh fuck,” it was a pitch of his voice you’d never heard before, a new tone especially reserved for the moments before orgasm, “you’re gonna make me fuckin come, y/n, y/n, I’m…”

The feeling of his balls constricting in your hands cues the warm wash of come sputtering down into your throat.

Getting the feeling he’d appreciate a bit of a show, you continue to jerk him off and pull off his cock slightly, letting the tip balance onto the tip of your tongue and the rest of his load spills out into your open mouth, some landing around the corners and onto your lips. 

“Christ, y/n,” his chest is heaving, his eyes finally pulling from you to squeeze shut for a moment. 

Once you’re sure he’s looking at you again you swallow down the salty white substance and lick the excess off your lips. You take his head back into your mouth, sucking just enough to clean off the tip and lap up any stray drops. He’s sensitive, you can tell, so you stop torturing him and place a final kiss right in between the two metal balls. 

You thought of asking him if the piercing hurt, or maybe make a comment about the two matching tattoos on his hipbones, ink of his you’d never seen until now. Before your brain can jump from swallowing his come to making post-nut chit chat, he’s yanking you up off your feet and wrapping you in a searingly passionate kiss. 

In your past experience most guys wanted you to drink some water or brush your teeth after they came in your mouth, at least before kissing you. Not Eddie. The way his tongue immediately slipped into your mouth, you almost believed he was trying to get a taste for himself. 

“C’mon,” he whispers in between slotting his lips with your, “Bedroom. Now.” 

He takes your hips in his hands and spins you around, causing a surprised yelp to bubble up from you, making him chuckle behind you as he walks you down the hall, keeping his hands on your sides. 

You knew where you were going, there were only so many doors in his tiny trailer, and you’d been here plenty of times before, but you liked the feeling of his hands pushing you forward, guiding your movements and steering you down the hallway into his room. 

Before your knees can hit the bed he spins you back around and captures your lips in another heated kiss. His hands trail up your sides, letting his fingertips slide beneath the hem of your shirt and push it upwards until your ribs were exposed. He pulls away from your face, leaving you leaning back into him, not wanting the kiss to end. 

“Up,” he pinches the sides of your shirt in his hands, and signals with his chin that he wants you to lift your arms, which you comply. 

It slides up and off of you, his hands quickly darting back to unclasp your bra, seemingly without even trying. This makes you roll your eyes, but the realization that you’re bare before him eclipses the thought of making a snippy remark about what a man whore he is. 

Flat palms caress your sides and move up to cup your breasts, his tongue pressing into the side of your neck. 

“These too,” his thumbs dip into your pants, managing to wiggle under the waistband of your panties as well. You’re going to do it yourself, but he gently pushes you back onto the bed, letting you flip back into the unmade blankets. 

“I wanna see you,” he pops your pants button and waits for a nod before sliding your pants and underwear down your legs. 

In between the blowjob and now, he’d tucked himself back into his pants, pulling his boxers and jeans back up, still unbuttoned, but covering him back up as his cock returned to a half hard state, unlikely to stay that way for very long considering how things were going. 

The scene of you now sprawled out onto his bed, naked and needy for him, and him standing above you, basically fully clothed, had a flood of lust traveling south between your thighs.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous,” you burned under his intense gaze, raking down your body and soaking in the image of your skin laid out against his flannel plaid sheets. 

He crawls over you, letting his body melt into yours, the center seam of his jeans pressing against your soaking core, just as it had when he had you pressed up against the door of the bar bathroom.

Rocking gently against you, you feel his cock already starting to harden again. His tongue moves against your neck, hands roaming freely against your skin, arching into his touch. 

His breath was heavy against your lips, he was already starting to lose himself, and he knew he wanted to make you come with his tongue at least once before his dick came back out, but it was already pulsing between his legs, growing rock solid with every little whimper that came past your lips. 

Your fingers intertwined themselves into the tresses of his long, messy hair. You use your new grip to pull his face as close into yours as your bodies will allow, smushing his nose up against your cheek and foreheads plastered together. The weight of his body on yours, and the lovely rocking motion of his hips against yours stopped as he pulled away and hooked his arms under your knees. 

He slides off the side of the bed, feet returning to the carpeted ground and yanking your body to the edge of the mattress. You let out an unexpected giggle, body limp like a rag doll, moving wherever he wanted you. 

He leans back over to give you another deep kiss, teeth dragging against your lower lip and tongue sliding gracefully against yours, before he slides his mouth down, stopping to lap up at your nipples for a moment, not letting any part of your skin go untouched as he takes his time moving down to where you want him most. 

Wiggling around on his mattress, your body is begging him to get on with it, but he loves to make you squirm. He takes his time licking up your hip bones, kissing from the innermost part of your thigh all the way down to your knee, and then back up the other side. He even takes a long moment to suck a dark purple bruise into the meat of your thigh, biting down on the flesh and licking over the skin to soothe it, noticing how your back arched a little when he bit down harder. 

“Please Eddie,” your voice is hardly above a whisper, whimpering and whiny.

“All you had to do was ask nicely,” he has that too-cocky tone again, but it’s long forgotten once his tongue is buried in between your thighs, lapping up the excess of wetness already pooled there.

“Ohhh,” you let out a moan, sucking in a sharp breath and allowing your body to relax under his focused touch. 

His hands push up from your ass to the crooks of your knees, moving your legs back to either side of you, strong palms finding their resting place on the backs of your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide open for him while he buries his face deep in your cunt. 

“You-“ the start of a compliment, or maybe a request, escapes your lips but the sudden harsh suck of your clit into his mouth has you speechless and moaning, “Mhmmmmm, uhhhhhhh.”

The sloppy wet sounds of him making out with your pussy are enough to drive you wild, your hands originally balling his sheets in your fists quickly move to the top of his head, resting atop his mop of messy curls. 

“Y’can give it a tug,” the first half of his statement spoken directly into your pussy, “I don’t mind a little pain.” He shoots you a wink and keeps his eyes locked on you as he lets his tongue lap a fat long lick up your slit, and then leaning back down to encourage you to tangle your hands into his hair. 

Coming to either side of his head you grab two points of purchase, locking your fingers in at the roots and feeling him hum into your cunt when you grabbed it a little tighter. 

Your hips start to quiver, so he brings one hand from your thigh up to your lower stomach, pinning you against the bed, and still keeping you spread open with the other. 

Working a steady rhythm against your slick center with his lips and tongue, he can tell he’s found the spot you like most by your open mouth and tight eyebrows.

“Ohmygod,” your chest starts moving with heavy breaths, you can’t bear to keep yourself up any longer and flop back down flat onto the mattress, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. He lets go of his anchor on your tummy and returns his hands to your thighs, allowing your hips to wiggle and wriggle against his face to chase after your own pleasure. 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” one glimpse of his big brown eyes looking up at you and his nose pressing deliciously into the spot above your clit has your head reeling, “please don’t stop, fuck.”

Rather than reply, he just continues to devour you at that steady pace, your thighs almost snapping shut around his head . 

“Uh huh, right there, oh fuck Eddie I’m gonna-“ 

A strangled moan rips from your throat and your back arches off the mattress, his hands quickly come to wrap around your thighs and keep your center held closely against his face. He’s pulling your hips flush with his face, despite your spasming torso and gushing core. 

As your orgasm peaks, your hips angle themselves to push up deeper into his face, and he uses his leverage against the backs of your thighs to lift your ass, the entire lower half of your body now off the mattress and sliding backwards as he keeps his moving tongue glued to your clit. 

He climbs up onto the mattress as you slide back, the grip he had on your legs was sure to leave a sore memory of him unwilling to let your coming pussy away from his face. 

When he finally pulls away, your hand pushing at his forehead to prevent overstimulation, both of you gasping for air, his knees are propped under your thighs, and your hips are propped up right at perfect level with the bulge in his pants. 

“Fuck me,” you say through catching your breath, not as an expletive but rather a demand, “Eddie, I need you to fuck me,” your voice was whiny and desperate. 

“This okay?” he starts pulling his dick from its constraints in his unbuttoned jeans, not even shoving them halfway down his thighs before he had that pretty pierced dip dragging through your open and ready folds. 

“Yes, inside, please,” you were chasing after his length, while he tossed his shirt off. He teasingly ran it up and down your slit before sinking into you, collapsing down to press your lips into a kiss to swallow your moans as he slid the whole thing in slowly, making sure to take his time and fuck you right. 

He grabbed the back of your neck and pressed his forehead to yours, finally sheathed all the way inside you and stilling for a moment to relish in the feeling. Pulling back so he can watch your face as he pumps his first few thrusts, he knows he’s beyond fucked. 

“So fucking good,” you slur out, eyes almost crossing from how deep his cock was hitting your insides.

“Yeah? This pussy’s god damn perfect, fucking made for me,” he articulates each thought with a snap of his hips, “suckin’ me right in.” 

“Wait, can we,” your voice had a little more weight behind it unlike the airy moans he’d grown obsessed with in the past forty minutes.

He pulls back, and rather than finish your thought you slip him out of you and roll over, shuffling up the bed and positioning yourself face down ass up, knees spread and back arched. 

“You think you can handle it?” he asks jokingly, swatting your ass playfully and then landing a second, harder smack on the flesh when he notices you pussy clench around nothing at the sensation of him spanking you. 

“Want you to fuck me hard,” you mumble into his pillow, wiggling your hips a little bit to jiggle the fat of your ass, “I know your cock is gonna feel so fucking good in me this way, wanna feel that fucking piercing back in my throat from the other direction.”

“Jesus Christ, y/n,” he was genuinely a little shocked at your words, slowly learning that your freak side might match his. 

You expected to feel his cock slam into you once his hands came to spread your ass apart, but instead the mattress dipped and he was licking another fat stripe from your clit all the way up past your second hole, running this back a few times until you were moaning into the pillow and thighs were tensed up from the attention he was giving you.

“Sorry babe, just needed another taste,” he pushed the head of his dick into you, and moved the first few inches agonizingly slow into your soaked hole. 

“Eddie please, need it, need you,” he loved that his sheets were balled up in your fists, using the tension of the material to bounce yourself back onto him. You only manage to slide back down about three quarters before he’s tightly gripping your hip and pulling out half way again. 

“Tsk tsk tsk, you need to learn to be patient, pretty girl,” he’d thrust it an inch of so, and then slowly pull back, making you whine and start to feel tears bubble up in the corners of your eyes. 

“Want it so bad,” your cheek laid flat against his pillow, and you could catch a glimpse of him behind you out of the corner of your eye if you craned your neck a bit. You sounded so desperate, but you knew he liked it, liked hearing how badly you craved him. 

He starts moving in and out of you, firm grip on your ass never wavering. Restrained grunts left his mouth as he fucked into you, causing your eyes to practically roll into the back of your head. He leans down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, despite how viciously he's pounding into you. His head cranes down to your shoulder, his hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face. 

As his long fingers move your hair away from your eyes, you push your head back into his hand, not wanting to lose contact. He tentatively runs his hands up into your hair, taking a soft grip on your roots.

“Is this what you want?” he whispers, “you like it rough?”

“Yes,” you manage to squeak out, “fuck, pull my hair, spank me, do whatever the fuck you want to me, please.”

His vision practically goes black with this new unrestricted passion, allowing himself to thrust into you as hard and as deep as his hips would propel him, twisting your hair in his grip and pulling you up from your laid position, quickly letting your hands jump to his headboard to support you as your head was pulled back. 

You tried to bounce back onto his cock, wanting to feel him as deeply and wholly as your bodies would allow, but you could hardly keep up with the pace he had set. 

Your ass bouncing against him and the occasional glance he caught at your fucked out expression spurred him on to fuck you even harder. He had your hair pulled back so tight that your back was pressing flush up with his chest every so often, and he took the opportunity to snake an arm around you and hold your chest up flat, his other hand moving down to rub frantic circles on your clit.

“You’re gonna make me come like this,” you manage to croak out, voice hoarse from the harsh bend in your neck. 

“Nuh uhh, no,” his voice was gruff and commanding, right into your ear and sent a shiver down your spine. 

He pulled out of you fully, and had you flipped around flat on your back again before you could even open your mouth to complain. 

“Need to see that pretty face when you come on my cock,” he lines himself up with you again, pushing into you and making a mental note of how the bulge of his cock looked pressing up from the inner part of your lower stomach. 

And of course, your face screwed up in pleasure, puffy lips and sweaty brow, slack jawed and panting his name would be something Eddie wouldn’t be able to forget even if he tried.

His thumb found its way to your clit to pick up where he had last left you, steadily building to an earth shattering orgasm. Talking you through it, knowing you were close by the vice grip your walls had on his dick, in between grunts he spilled out some “good girl”’s and “right fuckin there, that’s it.” 

When he felt your thighs tense up, and the muscles in your neck strain against the soft skin he’d previously had his lips all over, he knew you were nearing the finish line. 

“So fucking perfect, feel so good wrapped around me,” he managed to sweet talk you without altering the pace of his hips, “That’s it, come on my cock, give it to me.”

With that, your body can’t help but throw itself over the edge of pleasure. A deep grunt rattles in your chest, and you lose all sensation other than the wild pulsing in between your legs. You can’t be bothered to worry about what your face looks like, or if your thighs are squeezing him too hard, you only feel the riptide of an orgasm shattering through you. 

The animalistic noise that Eddie grunts out, his wild gaze locked on your face only makes your body shake with pleasure even harder. He had that instinct that most men lacked, to keep the exact pace and motion when your orgasm hit rather than speed up or slow down, it was a gift, a talent. 

Of course he wasn’t going to change a thing about what he was doing, look at you. You were so fucking perfect, shaking and coming all over him, those sweet noises and the beautiful squelching between your thighs. He’d rather die than change a single thing about this moment. 

He stilled only when you paused to catch your breath, and within seconds was flipped over by the power of your thighs onto his back.

Unexpectedly, you began to ride him, trying to match the pace he had earlier set. The aftershocks of your orgasm still washed through you, but you seized the moment to get him right where you wanted him. This angle was different, deeper and more connected. You roll your hips and bring your hands up to his hair, foreheads pressing together once again. 

“You’re making me feel so fucking good,” you manage to breathe out into his lips, he quickly comes to the realization of what’s happened and shifts the angle of his hips to hit you even deeper. 

“I’d give you everything, if you’d let me,” he doesn’t let a single thought pass in his mind before the words slip out, “always.”

Your lips capture his in a kiss that has far more emotion behind it than two friends play-dating and fucking for fun. His hands come up to grasp your cheeks, your hips continue to roll down into his with purpose. 

“I’m- Where-“ his words are hardly intelligible in between breathless kisses, but you know what he means. 

“Inside, please, need all of you inside me,” you try to keep your voice steady so he hears you loud and clear, wanting to give him the exact attention he had paid to you, “Please Eddie, come inside me.”

His hands travel down and guide your hips to fuck down onto him one, two, three times before he’s groaning in your ear and letting out the prettiest and most vulnerable sounds you’ve ever heard form him. 

The swell of his cock inside you makes you drape your head into his neck, focusing on riding out his orgasm and making sure he was twitching in the aftershocks of his orgasm before you let up. 

When you felt his grip on your hips tighten, signaling that he’d had too much, you sink all the way down one final time and let your body lay limp on his, pulsing cock still filling you up. 

His chest rose and fell harshly with his recovering breaths. You could feel his heartbeat pulsing up through the spot on his neck where your ear laid on his sweaty skin.

Silently awaiting the inevitable tap on the shoulder, the slow pull out and post-sex cleanup process, you try to savor every passing moment. But it doesn’t come. Eddie wraps his arms around your midsection and holds your limp body close to his, letting his cock start to soften inside you. 

You nearly fall asleep like that, all wrapped up in him, until you recognize that you should pee and clean up to avoid a UTI. You slip off of him, and hear a disappointed groan from him. He makes cute grabby hands at you as you cross the room, making you roll your eyes, but something deep inside you flip flops with how sweet he’s being, so caring, so unlike the picture of himself that he had painted for you. 

You give him a wet hand towel to clean up the remnants of your activities, and slip back into bed with him per his insistence. You doze off for a while, until the rising sun peeking through his blinds catches your eye, striking you with the sudden decision to stay and face the music or leave and let it settle. 

You’d already regretted it, but weren’t ready to have the “hey, so I know we had fake boyfriend-girlfriend sex, but I actually really like you so what should we do about that?” conversion with him, so instead you take the cowardly path and tiptoe out of his room in the early morning hours, leaving behind your underwear on his nightside table with a scribbled note saying to call you. Hopefully that was enough of a signal. 

Apparently not,

Days pass, and no call. 

It was all starting to get to your head. While you had gone through the stages of being nervous that you had done something wrong, that he was avoiding you to spare you the rejection, thinking he regretted what had happened and didn’t want to face you, who was so obviously into him it was painful, you’d just now turned a new leaf. Fuck that. If he was too much of a coward to call you, you'd hope he'd at least give you the decency as a friend to tell you the truth, you deserved to be angry, and you deserved a response. 

After stewing in your feelings for longer than felt healthy, you just get in your car and start driving to his trailer. If this all blew up in your face at least you wouldn’t have to keep biting your nails and waiting for the phone to ring. 

Three deep breaths, and a quick moment to gather your thoughts, and suddenly your body acted on instinct, putting the car in park and walking up to pound three concise knocks on his trailer door. 

“Just a second,” he hollered from inside, giving you a few seconds to be stricken with regret for showing up unannounced without a plan on what exactly to say. 

“What do you- oh, y/n,” he was in a pair of plaid pajama pants that hung low on his hips, shirtless and hair still damp from a recent shower, “uh, hey?”

“Oh, hey,” your tone was laced with annoyance, “I left something here last week and I’m here to get it back. If you don’t mind.”

“What- oh,” he’s a second too slow to realize you mean the underwear you had purposefully left behind with that note. The note telling him to call you. Which he never did. 

You were left standing on his porch steps, arms crossed and shooting daggers out of your eyes while he stood there in the doorway, an apparent guilty expression plastered on his face while he rocked back on his heels to buy some time to figure out what to say. 

“You don’t have to invite me inside, if you can just grab them and give them to me, and I’ll be out of your hair,” you say flatly, recognizing if he does as asked then this might be the last time you speak to Eddie Munson. 

“No, no, uh, you should come in,” he steps aside to let you in, “we probably shouldn’t have this conversation on my front steps.”

Avoiding eye contact, feeling an overwhelming mix of anger, confusion, and betrayal, you step inside and don’t make any effort to move into the space. You just stand by the door and give him an expectant look. Either he could go get the underwear, or he could grow a pair and say something to you. 

“I, uh-“ he looked so defeated you started to feel bad for using such a pointed tone, but then you remembered the days and days that passed without hearing from him, “I’m sorry, that I, y’know…”

“Yeah, well I don’t really care if you’re not looking for any post sex recap conversations, because you’re obviously pretty sure of yourself in that department,” the words flew out before your mind could even conjure them up, “but you fucking promised me that you wouldn’t do this, so can I please just have my underwear back and I won’t bother you again.”

He runs a hand through his hair letting out a deep exhale and searching the ceiling for words, “I know, I-“

You cut him off, your thoughts were ripping through you now and you were going to say your piece whether he asked for it or not, “You said you wouldn’t pull this shit with me, but I guess our friendship isn’t substantial enough for you to see me any differently than you do every other girl you throw away after you’ve gotten what you want. You clearly don’t want any more advice and you clearly don’t want to be my friend, so please, just give me my shit so I can go.”

“That’s the fucking thing y/n, of course I don’t want to be your friend,” his gaze still fixed on the ceiling.

At this point you were seconds away from just storming out, letting him keep your underwear as some twisted little trophy for breaking your heart. 

“Yeah, crystal clear Eddie.”

“Being your friend is already hard enough, and I knew this shit was a bad idea, the whole trial-girlfriend thing. But how the fuck was I supposed to say no to that? The girl of my dreams offers to do all this no-strings-attached romantic shit, I’d be the dumbest man alive to turn that down.”

You just give him a blank stare, your scalding anger twisting into a more confused frenzy of bees swarming in the pit of your stomach. Eyebrows pinched together, you just stare at him until he finally makes eye contact with you. 

“And yeah,” he goes on, letting all his words out like a big exhale in the same cadence that you had just hurled all your angry words at his, but his tone was filled with guilt as opposed to rage, “maybe we let it go a little too far, but I would never say no to you, I couldn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t know what the fuck to say to you after, but that’s exactly the reason I’m not good enough for you. The more we kept that fake dating shit up the worse it was gonna get, so I’m sorry, but I can’t keep spending time with you like that, because it’s starting to fucking hurt.”

“Hurt,” you say with a dry laugh, which almost scares him, “YOU’RE hurt? Give me a fucking break Eddie. I know you don’t see me that way. So what, you’re too scared to hurt my feelings? You’re doing a wonderful job, keep it up.”

“What the fuck do you mean, not see you like what?”

“Don’t pretend to be dumb Eddie. When we first met I tried so hard to get your attention, asking you to hang out, and you always blew me off. It’s fine that you don’t want to date me or whatever, but at least just tell me that, don’t fuck me like I’m special or something and then toss me aside. I deserve better than that.”

“Yeah, y/n, you do,” his voice was no longer guilt stricken, and was on the same straightforward plane as your last responses, “you deserve so much fucking better than me, that’s why I could never let anything between us happen. I don’t call girls back. I’m rude. I don’t take care of myself, let alone others. I like to smoke, and drink, and get head from girls in bar bathrooms and never learn their names, and that’s not the kind of person that a girl like you dates. I’m a fun quick fuck. You’re the kind of girl that after three dates he’ll already have a ring picked out. You’re everything, and I’m nothing, so forgive me for sparing you of that.”

Your bones are frozen and the beat of silence gives him the opportunity to spin on his heel and start down the hallway, presumably to get your panties. 

Snapping back into it, you let out a louder than expected, “Hey,” and you start following him, not taking long to catch up to him in his bedroom. 

“You,” you point a finger at him, and start to feel the rage bubble up again, “don’t get to decide that you’re unloveable. And you don’t get to tell me what kind of girl I am. Have you ever considered that maybe the reason you’re so lonely and miserable is because you choose to be? You don’t get to decide what I deserve, I do. And I really fucking like you Eddie, so forgive me for acting like it.” 

You snatch your underwear off his bedside table, and give him a look, not fueled by anger or resentment, but empathy. 

“I’m going to leave. And if you don’t want to see me again, that’s fine, but if you do, you can call me. Goodbye Eddie.”

You feel out of your own body, floating above it all and rewinding the conversation over and over, body on autopilot taking you home while your soul stayed behind and relived his words over and over, unsure if you feel better or worse than when you showed up. 

Days pass by again, and you take his silence as more of a response than anything he had said to you during that conversation. You try not to wallow, but you feel scattered and distraught, at both the prospect of losing Eddie and having to deal with your shared friends, would they allow you to dance around each other, or would they flat out choose him and shut you out? Would group nights out bowling suddenly just turn into the occasional one-on-one coffee with Robin? 

Until suddenly, on a random Tuesday afternoon when you've gotten home from work and are relaxing on the couch in your pajamas, three knocks are at your door.

At this point you figured it was over. He hadn't called and he'd made no effort to continue the dialogue. So a thought of Eddie doesn't even cross your mind in between the couch and opening the door.

And there he is.

In a suit, slightly descheveld in Eddie fashion, and holding a slightly wilting bouquet of flowers. Posture straight and brave face, but expecting your brutal edge upon answering the door nonetheless.

"Hey?" you're somewhat at a loss for words answering.

"Hi," he seems like he's running lines of a play in his mind, "I was hoping we could talk."

You reluctantly let him in, and he hands the flowers to you, as if it was a normal occurrence for him to bring you such a gift.

"First off," he starts, hardly breaching your living room entrance before starting his apology, "I regret the way we last left things, and I'm sorry for leaving you waiting for a response."

He flicks those big brown eyes at you and you can't help but give him the benefit of the doubt, he always was so sincere with his words.

"You're amazing. And although I'll remain adamant that I don't deserve someone like you in my life, I've been thinking a lot about what you said, and I'm sorry that tried to tell you how to feel."

You remain stoic at your seat on the couch, watching him shift his weight and bare his soul to you.

"You're perfect. Nice, funny, sexy, brave, all of it. And if you're willing to give me a chance, I don't know why the fuck you would, but if you are, I want to put aside all my bullshit and try this out, if you'll have me."

He stood there for a moment, letting you take in his request, bouquet in hand and suit adorned.

"And I owe you a few dates, for real."

As hard as you want your exterior to be, a smile cracks through.

"Okay, but know I don't fuck until the third date, at best," you jab, breaking his nervous exterior and visibly relieving the tension from his shoulders.

"I'm somewhat of a refined gentleman myself, so that won't be an issue," he bows and extends a hand to you.

You pull him down by the hand onto the couch with you, wrapping him up in a deep kiss. He was worth it, and you both knew it was worth the shot to try.

#eddie munson smut #smut #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things smut #eddie munson fem!reader

[luveline]

𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you finally work up the courage to kiss Eddie for the first time and he can’t cope (even if he claims he can). 2k words. requested here

cw fem!reserved/shy!reader, first kiss, heavy kissing, mutual pining, eddie being a hot dork

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Some people (Steve) call Eddie your loser boyfriend, while other people (the girls at work) call him the rockstar. 

You see both sides of him now. 

“Sweetheart!” he calls, the passenger seat window rolled down, his voice strong where he shouts behind the wheel. The van bumps the curve, leaving a sanguine line of rust in its wake and a creak to make everybody on the sidewalk wince. 

“Hello,” you call back. 

The van hums. You wait for him to be at a definite stop before you approach, hands on the open window, leaning up so as to see him best. It’s not just a usual date night tonight, Eddie’s taking you to Indianapolis for a rock show, and he’s dressed the part. “Woah, you look cool,” you say, bravely, wondering if that’s the right thing to say. It’s undoubtedly true —he’s slicked his curls with mousse to define them and leave them pitch black in accordance with his eyeshadow, dark and tapped into his lash line. The top he wears is incredibly tight, carving the softer lines of his abs for anyone to see, and his black jacket is ripped in places to expose the ink of his tattoos. “Are they multiplying?” 

“What?” he asks, grinning at you. “Are you getting in? It’s freezing!” 

“Your tattoos,” you explain, opening the door and popping up into the van with one shoe on the step. 

“Shit, you wanna see?” 

You’re not scared of Eddie, you just like him. He doesn’t worry you, doesn’t pressure you, nothing nefarious about him. He’s pretty, he’s considerate, and he does stuff like this, peeling out of his jacket to flex his arm at you and show you the Saran wrapping around his bicep. “Like that one?” he asks.

He has nice arms, and they’re all the better for his painful obsession. His newest one is difficult to see well under the wrapping. He notices you squinting and moves it up, tape pulling his skin. 

“Another bat?” you ask. 

“Not cool?” 

“So cool,” you disagree. This bat is unlike the others on his arm, which are small and simple in comparison. This one is heavily detailed and very dark, fangs in small triangles bared. The eyes aglow. The skin around it is red. “Did you get that today?” 

“On a whim. Still wanna date me, or is it getting to be too much?” 

You can’t answer him, and he knows that. You’re not very good at navigating intimate conversation or circumstance, though you like him, and he must know that too. Or he must really like you. Your dates have been chaste. Only last time could you work up the courage to take his hand, but when you had, he rewarded your courage with a drove of tenderness, fingers rubbing your knuckles and squeezing soft patterns for hours at the back of the movie theatre. 

The drive to Indianapolis takes near enough an hour. Eddie puts you on map duty but doesn’t use it, ignoring your offer of directions on the insistence that he knows a shortcut and then rerouting when you get too lost. He tells you there are snacks for you in the centre console and laughs, endeared, when you pop the lid and smile at it all. You talk about the show, a band you’d never heard of but had wanted to see on the grounds of sharing his interests. That’s what couples do, right? They try to do things together. You have to put yourself out of your comfort zone, and you’re happy to try if it means you can do it with him. 

“You nervous?” he asks, pulling into the parking garage outside of the venue, a towering, multi-story fiasco crammed with cars and motorbikes. 

“No,” you say, not quite mumbling as you look down at your hands. 

“Good, don’t be. I’m gonna look after you, we’re gonna have a great time. And then we can get takeout after?” You look up. He stretches his arm out to glance at his watch. “I would’ve taken you before, but good old Indianapolis keeps getting further away.” He smiles apologetically. 

You laugh without meaning to. His smile ramps up a notch. 

“I love when you laugh. You have such a cute laugh,” he says. 

“I know you’re lying,” you say, still laughing anyways. 

“I’m not lying, I love the way you laugh!” He shakes his head, curls falling away from his face as he flicks on the light on the car roof. “We have half an hour till doors open.”

“You don’t wanna line up?” 

“It’s kind of overwhelming and I figured we’d stay near the back of the crowd for your first gig here, it gets pretty rowdy.” He says ‘pretty rowdy’ like a drag, nodding gently, eyes lit with mirth. You love it when he talks like that. 

“We can go now, get further in. I can handle it.” 

“It’s not about handling it, I want you to have a good time. Plus, they could ruin your nice dress.” 

You meet his gaze all smiles like he is, but heat flickers in your chest and in your stomach, and you have to look away. It’s an impulse you’ve always given into. You’re reserved in the feelings department but trying not to be, Eddie deserves reciprocation, but it’s hard. Either way, he seems to understand this about you, and he hasn’t complained. 

Still, a bedraggled silence falls. Nearly awkward, unsure of how to tread, you sit together in your separate seats listening to cars parking and doors opening, closing on either side of you, the headlights of the cars driving past glaringly bright, white flashing over your screwed palms. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

You’re sure Eddie wants to kiss you. Three nights ago at the movies, after an hour of languid hand holding, he’d looked at your lips no less than three times as he said good night. He told you he’d had an amazing time, and that he couldn’t wait to see you again. You’d said the same in earnest, and then he’d just walked away. All those stolen glances and he hadn’t made a move. 

“Eddie… why…” You poke your tongue into your bottom lip momentarily, chewing it over. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?” 

“Um–” He lets out a nervous giggle before roughly clearing his throat. You peek at him, watching intently as he takes his hair away from his face with two hands. “I’m just waiting on you, sweetheart. No pressure.” He laughs as he talks, a picture of panic, “You’re sort of shy about that stuff, you know? I didn’t wanna surprise you.” 

“But you do want to kiss me?” you ask unsurely.

He puts his hand on your knee, the space between you suddenly smaller and warmer, the light like white glaze on his pupils, illuminating his finer details. He has a mole nestled under his eyelashes too small to see until now; it catches your attention. You stare at him too long. 

“Of course I do,” he says, eyebrows pinching together in concern. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.” 

You nod and snap your head back to your lap. Why does he have to be so nice? You wish you’d listened to Steve, even if he was joking, you shouldn’t have ever said yes to Eddie, because now you’re terrified you can’t kiss him and you’ll ruin everything…

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not waiting for anything. You can take your time or you could never kiss me, and I won’t care. I swear. I mean, I really want you to kiss me but I’ll find a way to cope, I’m sure.” He takes his hand from your leg softly. “Do you want my jacket? It’s cold out, n’ we should probably start walking.” 

You pull your head up slowly. 

He reads your hesitant expression. “I’m in no rush,” he promises, head ever so slightly ducked to yours. 

Okay, you think. Okay, I can do this. You hold your breath and start to lean in. He falters, a millisecond of misunderstanding, before he recognises what you’re doing and smiles. He reaches for your waist with enough care to give you a chance to change your mind, and when you’re close enough to feel his breath, his lashes shutter. 

You follow suit, blind, with nothing but your intuition as you press your lips to his. 

With a feeling like the hum of the engine under your hands, you bring your fingers to his soft cheek and hold him still. He breathes in harshly, touches you far from it, his palm slipping behind your back to pull you in. You lean into it; it feels natural to give in, to turn your head one way and part your lips, to have him kiss back with heat and surprising sweetness.

You feel unlike yourself in a good way, falling back to kiss forward again, a third time, trying to chase the lulling bliss of his lips. The stomach aching want. Your hand chases across his cheek and into the curls behind his ear, needing him closer but not expecting the sound it elicits. He sighs into your lips and you flinch back, startled by the sensation. 

Eddie rubs your back with his index finger, unjudging as you drop your head to catch your breath. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly. You can hear his affection. It’s palpable. 

You nod, a dizzy weight collected in your forehead, thankful when his free hand catches your cheek and he turns your face gently to the side. “I got too hot,” you confess, only half of the truth. 

“It was pretty hot.” He smiles at you like you’re the only person in the world, like you’ve a secret only he knows. “Want me to turn on the A/C?” 

“No, I–” want to kiss you again, you think. You might even tell him so, but he starts to blow on your face, disrupting any thoughts you’d had earlier. He purses his lips and blows cold breath on your cheek, a tenderness in his gaze and the tip of his thumb where it rests just under your eye. “Oh.” 

This might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for you. Your face feels precious in his careful hand, pretty under his longing look. You’re not scared when he encourages you back to his lips, your eyes quick to close, your hands across the gap of your seats to gather his shirt between tight fingers. 

His kiss is a reflection of him. Loser, rockstar, he’s eager and his hands start to betray that, his kissing melty hot and addictive as the tip of his nose presses hard to yours. You turn your face to accommodate him better and that small action drives him crazy. He’s pulling you in, smiling into your mouth, making breathy sounds that’ll stick around in your head ten times as long as the tingles filling your chest as just kisses and kisses and doesn’t stop. 

“M’sorry,” he says, pulling away, and then stealing another heavy, soft kiss like he couldn’t wait. “Sorry,” he apologises again, stroking the skin beside your eye to encourage you into opening them. “I’m not trying to get carried away. Just can’t believe you just kissed me.” 

“No, it’s okay, I– I really wanted to.” 

He kisses your cheek. You aren’t expecting it and you don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like kissing him has invigorated him, you’re a shot he knocked back, his excitement catching as he begs, “Close your eyes again, sweetheart, just one more–”

You raise your chin and he practically gasps, immediately pressing a last chaste kiss to your burning lips. 

“I’m not always like this,” he promises, leaning away, his fingertips falling from your face to trace down your neck, your shoulder. “You’re just so fucking pretty I lost my mind. I’m on best behaviour from now on, swears.” 

He raises his hand up in a scout’s honour. 

You breathe out happily. “Thank you.” 

“Oh my god. Quick, we better get out of this van before I lose my mind.” He shakes his head. “You’re insane. I have such a crush on you, holy fuck,” —he turns away from you and gets out of the van— “Jesus.” 

You pull down the sun visor to check your reflection in the mirror. You look thoroughly kissed, eyes aglow with it. 

“Fuck!” Eddie swears. You beam at yourself as he wraps on the window. “Come on, sweetheart! I have a concert to pretend to pay attention to.” 

You slink out of your seat, brave enough to try for another kiss so long as it doesn’t kill him dead right here in the parking lot. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed! I love knowing what you think and it means so much to me/ inspires me to write even more!!! <3 but of course I hope you enjoyed reading regardless :D 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson lives

[mytheoristavenue]

I've been having a lot of body issues lately so could you write a Steve Harrington x Plus Size Reader? Where the reader acts confident, but really she's super insecure?

This was so cute! Thanks for the ask!

ST Steve Harrington x Plus sized!Reader - Breakfast at Tiffany's

Warnings: Mentions of fat shaming, insecurity, fluff

Summary: You get bullied at school, due to your size, and your sweet friend comforts you.

You sighed, striding into the video store, meeting eyes with your best friend, slumping on the counter. "Breakfast at Tiffany's and a box of whoppers." you mumbled."

"Yikes," Robin said, smirking down and you as her fingers worked the keys of the computer. "Rough day?"

You perked your head up at her. "How'd you know?" you asked, bewildered. She snickered in response, snarkily leaning on the her side of the counter.

"It's your comfort movie, and you only eat Whoppers why you're sad." she said knowingly. "So what happened?"

You rolled your eyes as she turned back to the computer bringing your account up onto the screen to add the movie to. "I didn't make the team." you muttered under your breath.

"The cheer team?!" she exclaimed, a bit louder than she probably intended, dramatically straining her neck to she you around the white box she was working from. "I thought you said that Chrissy girl could get you a spot, what happened?"

Your gaze fell downcast as you bit your cheek, embarrassed. "The captain said I didn't have the body type they were looking for. There was nothing Chrissy could've done."

"Holy shit, that sucks," Robin comforted, slumping her shoulders. "I'm so sorry, (Y/N)."

"Cheerleaders?" a voice suddenly called from the stock room as Steve came back down onto the sales floor. "Did I hear someone say cheerleaders?"

"Can it, Steve." Robin retorted, glaring at him, before coking her head towards you, hoping he got the message. Apparently, he did not.

"Holy shit, (Y/N), you're a cheerleader? Congratulations!" he praised, walking around the counter to give you a hug, until he noticed your expression, and his friend tugged on his sleeve. He glanced over at the computer screen, finding the name of the movie you were renting beside the day's day.

"Breakfast at Tiffany's. You didn't make it, did you?" he asked sadly, placing a hand on your shoulder. You shook your head, neglecting to look up at him. He noticed your choice of candy and winced. "Whoppers...that bad, huh?"

"They said her 'body type' wasn't what they were looking for." Robin piped up, anger hidden in her tone. "What a bunch of bitches."

"Jeez, I'm sorry, (Y/N). C'mere." he cooed, pulling you into him, petting your hair softly. "For what it's worth, we think you're beautiful, not matter what body type you have."

You sniffled a bit, pulling away. "Y-You do?" you asked, holding back tears.

"Of course I do!" Steve laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind your hear with one hand, the other wiping away a single tear the hand fallen down your cheek.

"We." Robin corrected, trying not to laugh at her best friend's hopeless display of thinly vailed affection.

"What?" the man cocked a brow, before his eyes widened a bit. "Y-yeah! We," he glanced at you, withdrawing himself, scratching the back of his neck. "I-I meant we, not I." You giggled at his nervousness, your palm over your mouth in an attempt not to laugh any harder. "Not that I don't think you're pretty, I think your gorgeous! Wait that's weird-"

You finally set your hand on his chest, halting his ramblings as he looked down at you, flushed and embarrassed. "Thank you, Steve. It means a lot that you," you smiled, tilting your head towards Robin. "Both of you, think I'm pretty."

"Very pretty." the blonde nodded with a gentle smile.

"Maybe," you began, glancing at the ground before back up at him, twirling a bit as you did. "You and I could watch Breakfast at Tiffany's together? My place, tonight?" you asked the Hawkins High alumnist.

Steve as bewildered at the thought of you asking him on a date, even if it was just something this simple, but he'd had a crush on your for over a year. There was no way he could say no, or maybe there was. "Pssh, I'm pretty busy tonight, work and everything." After he'd said it, his eyes widened, kicking himself for blowing you off.

"Well, that's too bad, it would've been nice, but maybe some other time?" you asked, hiding your sadness behind a sweet, confident smile.

"Actually," Robin butt in suddenly. "Steve gets off in an hour." All three of you exchanged confused looks, waiting for her to explain. "Remember, you were gonna leave early so I could have more hours?"

"What?" he said, unsure of why she was lying, as they were meant to share the shift, so her hours hadn't been in jeopardy to begin with. Suddenly, it clicked with him what she was trying to do for him, and he played along. "Right! Yeah, totally forgot. Um, if you wanna wait around for an hour, I'll drive you home, and be can uh..." Steve staid, trying desperately to regain his suave composure. "What Breakfast at Tiffany's?"

you smiled brightly, a bit of glow in your cheeks. "That sounds great."

#stranger things #headcanon #x reader #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x #stranger things steve #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff

[resande]

Reunion at Skull Rock 📍

Commission for Anne Forbes on twitter.

#steddie art #artists on tumblr #stranger things #steddie fanart #steddie #eddie munson #eddie munson art #eddie munson fanart #steve harrington #steve harrington art #steve harrington fanart #stranger things 4 #eddie stranger things #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson