I’m 22 (thats so weird ive had this blog for 3 years), write and read fanfics. Im nonbinary and love writing for trans reader (or characters) most ships and fic will be gay cuz same.
I will write for Strangers Things and some of WWE, before sending a request READ MY TERMS
steddie x reader hc
(below the cut)
Eddie and Steve love taking care of you but also love fucking you till you cry
You accidentally call
pls if you wrote a fix or hcs about a regressed dom and tjd caring for him (mainly rhea) i would smooch you on the forehead so many times
O
warnings: nfsw, mdni!!!, minor alcohol, im pretty sure thats all
below the cut 💋💋
Rhea has 1 of the boys fuck you (could be mouth or cunt
omfg can you write about virgin!eddie being embarrassed about his body? he knows his dick isn’t that big, he doesn’t like his body hair, and
want to know about me?
Pan or Omni or Bi we still figuring that out:) I’m am Polyamorous and trans ftm! I love metal music and alt /punk pop . I a sub and VERY kinky.
-> Summary: After you’re kicked out of your apartment, you rely on your best friend Robin Buckley to set you up with a new place to call home. Unfortunately for you, you’re now stuck rooming with your ex-boyfriend, and his boyfriend — who you also used to know.
First the hardware store, then the record shop, then the grocery run. By the time you finally ended up at the diner, you were already sulking, arms crossed and sighing like a martyr.
You begged for a strawberry milkshake and fries, pouted until Eddie finally sighed and gave in. “Fine. Get her what she wants,” he told the waitress.
“Thank you, Eds,” you chirped, sweet as poison, leaning back smug.
When the food came, you sipped the shake twice, picked at the fries, then shoved the basket away with a groan. “Not even that good.”
Steve paused with his burger halfway to his mouth, brows lifting slow. “So let me get this straight. You skip breakfast, whine until Eddie caves, and now you’re too much of a brat to eat any of it? That’s not cute, sweetheart.”
Eddie’s fingers drummed once against the table before curling into a fist. “You’re going to finish it, or you’ll regret it later.”
Your stomach flipped, but you only slouched deeper in the booth, biting back a grin. The thrill of pushing was too sweet, like pressing on a bruise just to feel it ache.
Steve leaned back, smirk syrupy. “Write that one down, Eds. Begging for food she doesn’t want? Daddy thinks that’s a strike.”
Your heart lurched, heat prickling across your cheeks as the word seemed to ring louder than it should have, cutting through the clatter of dishes and hum of conversation around the diner. Steve never called himself that in public. Not once. The urge to sink under the table tangled sharp with the shameful spark that wanted to hear him say it again.
Eddie didn’t even argue. He just reached into his jacket, pulled out the small notebook he carried, and flipped it open. The scratch of his pen made your cheeks burn hotter than Steve’s smirk.
“You can keep playing, princess,” Steve said, taking a bite of his burger, “but the page fills up fast when you’re this reckless.”
Under Eddie’s stare, you dragged the basket back toward you. Picked up a fry. Took a slow bite, rolling your eyes the whole time. Two more, chased with a sip of the shake, just enough to prove you weren’t outright refusing.
Steve’s smile thinned. “Pathetic. Eddie said eat, not toy with it.”
You crammed another fry in with a sigh. “Happy now?”
Eddie’s glare cut across the table, fist tight on the laminate. “Keep going.”
Steve clicked his tongue, grin slow and cutting. “Oh, precious. Write that down, Eds. Mocking at the table’s another strike.”
Eddie’s pen scratched, each mark a promise. Your stomach twisted, heat crawling low.
By the time the check came, you’d picked at just enough to keep him from making a scene.
The car ride home wasn’t any better. You groaned when the radio didn’t play your song, muttered when Eddie told you to knock it off, ignored Steve completely when he tried to joke with you.
But your mind wouldn’t let go of that single word. Daddy. He’d let it slip at the diner like it was nothing, like he wasn’t breaking your unspoken rule. It had been too loud, too deliberate, hanging in the air until it felt like the whole place must have heard. The humiliation clung jagged and raw, every replay of the word cutting like glass. Yet beneath it something darker pulled at you, a restless hunger that only made the sting sharper.
Steve’s low chuckle snapped you out of your thoughts. “Careful, princess. You’re halfway to filling a page already. Maybe Daddy will have Eds read it out loud tonight, just so you can hear how spoiled you sound.”
Eddie’s grip on the wheel tightened, leather squeaking beneath his hands. “She’s going to regret it,” he muttered.
And gods, it wound you up so tight you could hardly breathe.
Inside, you kicked your shoes off with a huff and made a beeline for the couch, sprawling into the cushions like you meant to sink there forever. Eddie shrugged his jacket off, keys clattering onto the counter. Steve drifted into the kitchen, the hiss of a soda can cracking open before his eyes flicked back to you stretched out and sulking.
Eddie caught your chin before you could flop sideways. “We’ve got to step out again. Dishes done when we get back. Clear?”
Your head snapped up. “Wait, leaving? We just got home.”
“Quick errand,” Eddie said, already snagging his keys again.
You threw your arms wide. “You’ve been dragging me around all day, and now you’re ditching me the second we walk in the door?”
Steve’s grin was lazy and sweet as poison. “Poor thing. Acting like we abandoned you, when really we just don’t trust you not to pitch another fit if we take you along.”
You scoffed. “Whatever.”
Eddie turned in the doorway, pinning you with a look sharp enough to cut. “One more word and you’ll regret it when we get back.”
Your jaw snapped shut, but the roll of your eyes gave you away.
Steve caught it instantly, sing-song as he tipped his head. “There it is. Out there you can roll your eyes and whine all you want. In here, that earns you a strike. And trust me, sweetheart, you don’t want to see that number climb.”
Eddie’s reply was flat, final. “Noted.”
Something in your chest gave a hard flutter. Punishment was coming. It always did. You wanted it. You hated that you wanted it. And the darker thought whispered the same promise it always did. Once they’d wrung the fight out of you, they’d give in. They always did.
The door shut behind them, leaving the trailer heavy with silence. You stood in the kitchen staring at the piled dishes, their warnings still buzzing in your head like static.
With a sharp exhale, you turned on your heel and stomped down the hall, each step heavier than the last.
In the bedroom, the stereo blared loud enough to rattle the thin walls. You threw yourself onto the bed, the ache between your thighs sharpened by every warning, every ignored command, every eye roll you knew had been added to the list.
Your hand hovered at your waistband for a heartbeat. You shouldn’t. You knew the rule. That was why your pulse kicked harder when your fingers slipped inside anyway.
A sigh broke past your lips as you pressed against the heat of your own skin. Touching without permission was forbidden, but that was the point. You wanted to be caught. Wanted them furious. The risk only made your breath come faster.
The thought of waiting another minute had your teeth grinding. Hips rolled against your hand, chasing friction, chasing punishment. Gods, if they walked in now… Eddie’s furious eyes flashing, Steve’s mocking laugh curling around you… the image alone made your hips jerk harder, pleasure tightening fast and sharp.
The front door creaked open, but the stereo drowned it out. Heavy boots crossed the floor, followed by the crinkle of a bag being set carefully on the counter.
Steve glanced at Eddie as he slid the bag onto the counter, a smug little grin tugging at his mouth. “Got her the one she wanted.”
Eddie’s reply was short, sharp. “Later. Do you hear that?”
The sound bleeding down the hall wiped the smile from Steve’s face. “Oh, she’s gonna hang for this.”
Their footsteps thundered closer.
The door slammed open just as the wave crested through you, back arching, mouth falling open as you came with your hand still buried between your thighs.
And there they were, frozen in the doorway. Eddie’s face was dark with fury. Steve’s grin spread slow and cruel.
“Un-fucking-believable,” Eddie growled, voice dark and low.
Your eyes flew open. The orgasm still rippled sharp through your body, leaving your thighs trembling and your chest heaving. Heat clung sticky to your skin as your hand slipped free, but the smirk stayed on your lips. “What? You weren’t here. Somebody had to take care of me.”
Eddie’s silence hit harder than any shout. His jaw ticked once, eyes burning through you, and then he moved.
Steve leaned heavier against the frame, arms folding slow as his grin spread syrupy and smug. His gaze dragged over you like he had all the time in the world. “Look at her. Caught red-handed, the stereo rattling the walls, and the sink still full.”
Eddie closed the distance in three strides. His hand clamped around your wrist, dragging it up like proof, your skin still damp. “You couldn’t wait?”
Your laugh came sharp, reckless, as you shoved at his chest with your free hand. “I was bored.” The smirk deepened, your pulse thundering. “What were you gonna do, spank me?”
Come on. Do it. Make me pay for it.
Steve finally pushed off the frame, his chuckle warm but patronizing. He strolled closer, fingers tapping lightly against his arm, eyes full of syrupy amusement. “Aw, listen to her. Talking so big with her hand still wet. Poor baby must’ve forgotten whose rules she lives by. In this room, there’s no hiding, no bargaining. Just Daddy’s word and Sir’s hand.”
Eddie’s glare burned through you, the kind of look that usually shut you up cold. Tonight it only made your chin tip higher, daring him.
The movement was sudden, his hand snapping up to clamp around your jaw. Your face tilted hard, forced to meet the fury burning in his eyes. His voice was low, deadly. “What do you call me?”
Your pulse jumped, but the grin you gave him was sharp enough to cut. “Eddie, duh. Did you forget your own name?”
The silence that followed was worse than yelling. His stare went flat, dark as ink.
“Try again.”
Every nerve screamed at you to stop, but the brat in you wouldn’t stay quiet. You rolled your eyes, sweet venom coating your voice. “What, you need me to spell it out for you now?”
The crack of his hand against your thigh made you jolt, a sharp cry breaking free. His grip on your jaw tightened, tilting your head back until his face filled your vision.
“I will not repeat myself,” he snarled. “Say it.”
Shame burned hot in your chest. Your lips trembled as the word fell out, small and broken. “Sir.”
“That’s better.” His hand shifted, dragging your gaze sideways toward Steve.
Steve had moved closer, leaning one shoulder against the wall, watching with syrupy satisfaction. His smirk widened when your throat tightened.
“Go on,” Eddie pressed. “And him?”
The word lodged in your chest, heat climbing your neck. “Daddy,” you muttered.
Eddie’s fingers dug harder into your jaw. “Louder.”
Your voice cracked under the command. “Daddy.”
Steve’s laugh was low and fond, almost cooing. He stepped forward, bending until his mouth brushed close to your ear. “That’s it. Good girl. Daddy knew you’d remember.”
The name still burned on your tongue when Eddie finally released your jaw. Your breath came fast, shame prickling hot across your skin, sharper than the sting on your thigh.
“Better,” he muttered, his eyes dragging down your body, slow and cutting. His mouth curved into something mean. “Let’s see how long that attitude lasts once you have nothing to hide behind.”
The command came flat and final. “Strip.”
You huffed but obeyed, peeling your shirt off and tossing it hard to the floor.
Steve’s eyes followed it down, his smile all sugar while his tone sliced clean. “Pick it up.”
You froze, chin tilting stubborn. “What?”
Steve’s chuckle was maddeningly sweet, like he was humoring a child. He crouched just enough to meet your eyes, voice sing-song soft. “Aw, did Daddy’s girl forget how to listen? Pick it up, fold it neat, and then do the same with everything else. Unless you’d rather Daddy help you remember with his belt.”
Heat flared across your face as you bent to scoop up the shirt, smoothing the fabric with shaky hands. One by one, each piece joined the stack. Eddie loomed silent, eyes like ice, while Steve’s soft coos only made it worse. “Slower. Careful. That’s better. Daddy likes it tidy.”
By the time you finished, your skin buzzed under their stares, your body tight with humiliation.
Steve folded his arms, letting the silence hang until it seemed to press down on you. Then his voice came lilting and almost gentle. “Sweetheart, did you really think Daddy would not notice you throwing your clothes like a tantrum? Daddy notices everything. Every sigh, every pout, every glare. That little show just earned you five more spankings. And Daddy is going to enjoy every one.”
Your stomach dropped. “Ste—”
“Daddy,” he corrected softly, almost sing-song.
You swallowed hard, shame prickling hot across your skin. “Yes, Daddy.”
Eddie’s hand closed around your chin, forcing your eyes up to his. “On your knees. Now.”
The carpet scraped rough against your skin as you sank down. Eddie’s palm stayed heavy on your shoulder, pinning you when you shifted. “Stay.”
From the kitchen came the clatter of cabinets, the rip of a bag, the rattle of rice spilling into a pan. Each sound tightened the coil in your chest. You had been here before, kneeling until your body shook, tears spilling hot while Eddie held you down. Memory crawled over your skin, a phantom ache settling in your knees before the punishment even began. You hated how quickly your body remembered. Hated more how much some hidden part of you welcomed it.
When Steve returned, he carried the shallow pan like it was a gift. He set it down with deliberate care, lined with a towel and spread with raw rice. Eddie’s hand fisted in your hair, dragging you forward until your knees sank into the grains. The bite was instant, sharp and merciless.
You hissed, trying to twist free, but Eddie’s grip only shoved you lower. “Sit still.”
A notebook and pen hit the floor at your knees. Eddie’s voice was flat, carved from stone. “Write it. Over and over. I will respect Sir and Daddy. I will not act like a spoiled brat. You don’t stop until I tell you.”
The rice stabbed into tender skin like glass shards. You clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to wriggle. Don’t cry. Don’t move. You can take it. But the burn spread quick, fire crawling up your thighs, stealing your breath until your hand shook around the pen.
You managed three messy lines before Steve crouched beside you, his knee brushing yours. He plucked the notebook from your hands, humming low in mock approval. “‘I will respect Sir and Daddy. I will not act like a spoiled brat.’” His voice tilted into syrupy condescension. “Mm. She can write the words, but look at that face. That’s not a girl who’s sorry. That’s a brat waiting to get her way. Do you think Daddy is fooled, sweetheart? Because Daddy isn’t. And Sir isn’t either.”
Your glare cut up at him, sharp as broken glass. “Maybe Daddy just likes hearing himself talk.”
Eddie’s fist tangled in your hair, yanking until your scalp burned. His palm cracked across your cheek, hot and fast. Tears stung, but the smirk clung stubborn.
“Wrong answer,” he growled. “That’s more with the belt, on top of what you’ve earned.”
Steve’s chuckle was soft, almost cooing. His thumb brushed the sting, mock-tender. “Poor baby. Every time you open that mouth, you dig deeper. Daddy thinks you’re angling for play. But Daddy knows better.”
The words landed harder than the slap. That was what you wanted, wasn’t it? Punishment first, then the edge softening, their hands and mouths undoing the damage once they’d wrung you dry. It had always felt inevitable before.
Steve’s arm curled tighter, lips brushing your temple like you were a child. “You think we’re that easy? That a pout makes us cave? Not tonight. Rules aren’t a game. Daddy and Sir don’t bend for tantrums, especially not after that stunt.” His voice was soft, but the weight beneath pressed like iron.
The bottom dropped out of your stomach. The ache that had been simmering low only sharpened, cruel in its denial. You wanted to beg, to plead, but shame pressed your tongue flat.
“Easy, Eds,” Steve murmured when Eddie’s grip stayed iron-hard. He leaned in, lips brushing Eddie’s jaw in a fleeting kiss. For a heartbeat, their attention shifted from you to each other, Steve’s sweetness pressing against Eddie’s steel. The sight lit something reckless in your chest, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you’d get what you craved.
But Eddie’s hand slid up Steve’s arm, holding him there as his eyes cut back to you. “And you’re too soft. She doesn’t need sweet. She needs to break.”
Steve lingered for a breath longer before pulling back, his smile honeyed when it landed on you. “Then Daddy agrees with Sir. She’s not done yet.”
Your stomach plunged. The flicker of hope guttered fast. The notebook shook in your hands as Eddie shoved it back at you. Gods, I pushed too far. I wanted them angry, but not like this.
“Another page,” Eddie ordered. “Neat. Miss once and you start again.”
The rice bit deeper into your knees, thighs trembling. Tears finally spilled hot and heavy down your cheeks, blurring ink across the page. Steve’s soft chuckle brushed your ear, unbearably sweet. “Poor thing. Already shaking, and she hasn’t even counted the belt yet.”
Your pen scratched clumsy lines across the page, every letter blurrier than the last. The ache in your knees, the sting on your cheek, the fire in your thighs...it was all blurring into something dizzying.
Steve’s hand pressed your back, voice soft. “Eyes up, baby girl.” You froze. His gaze locked on yours, sweet but steady. “What’s your color?”
Your throat worked around the word, lips trembling. “Green.”
The tension in his shoulders eased, though his smile stayed sharp. “Good girl. Daddy just needed to hear it.” His hand patted your back, deceptively soothing. “Now finish the page. Then you’ll count every one of those spankings loud enough for the neighbors to hear.”
Eddie’s voice cut in from above, low and unforgiving. “And if she drops her count even once, we start over.”
Your stomach twisted, shame and heat tangling together. The pen shook harder in your hand as you scrawled the words again, blinking through the blur of tears.
The last line wobbled across the page, ink smeared with tears. Your hand fell limp at your side, the pen clattering to the floor.
Eddie snatched the notebook, scanned it, then tossed it aside. “Up.”
Your legs screamed as you pushed upright, knees raw from the rice. Eddie hauled you toward Steve, who had already sat down at the edge of the bed, belt dangling from one hand. He patted his thigh with the other, his smile syrupy and cruel. “Over Daddy’s knee, sweetheart. Now.”
Shame surged hot in your chest, but Eddie’s grip shoved you forward until you sprawled across Steve’s lap. The position was humiliating, ass bared, face burning.
Eddie crouched low in front of you, one hand clamping your chin so you couldn’t look anywhere but into his eyes. “You’ll count every one. Loud. Clear. Drop it once and you start over.”
Steve stroked a slow hand over your skin, deceptively gentle. “You’ve earned twenty. Ten for that smart little mouth, ten for forgetting who’s in charge. Daddy’s going to make sure you don’t forget again.”
The belt snapped down hard. Pain bloomed sharp and hot, forcing a cry from your throat.
“One!”
Eddie’s smile cut like a blade. “Good girl. Louder.”
The next strike landed harder.
“Two!”
Steve hummed, patting your ass where the welt rose angry and red. “That’s it. You’re doing so well for Daddy.”
By the sixth, tears blurred your vision. Eddie’s thumb brushed cruelly at one rolling down your cheek. “Look at you, falling apart already. Pathetic.”
“Six!”
Steve paused, rubbing circles into your skin as your body shook. His voice dipped softer, condescendingly sweet. “Breathe for me, baby girl. Color?”
“Green,” you gasped, the word breaking on a sob.
“Good girl,” he crooned, pressing a kiss to your lower back before raising the belt again. “Keep counting.”
The leather cracked, over and over, until the final lash made your whole body jolt against his lap.
“Twenty!”
Steve dropped the belt with a soft thud, his palm smoothing over the welts he’d made. His tone was honeyed, but merciless. “Look at her, Eds. Crying, shaking, and she still thought she’d pout her way into our hands tonight.”
Eddie’s hand tightened on your jaw, forcing your eyes on him as he spoke. “No play. No reward. Straight to bed.”
Steve tipped close, voice a cruel coo. “Tomorrow you’ll remember, Daddy and Sir don’t break just because you want.”
The words landed heavier than the belt, your stomach sinking even as your body ached for the very touch they denied.
Steve’s hand lingered warm on your back as Eddie finally released your chin. You sagged against Steve’s lap, sobs still shaking your chest.
“Easy now,” Steve murmured, rubbing slow circles over your spine. His tone was syrup-sweet again, lulling. “Daddy’s got you. Breathe for me.”
Eddie rose, moving to the dresser. The sound of a drawer sliding open made you flinch, but when he returned, it wasn’t with more punishment. A cool jar clicked against the nightstand. “Cream,” he said simply.
Steve shifted you gently, helping you onto the bed on your stomach. “Stay still, sweetheart. Let Daddy take care of you.” His voice was low, coaxing, but the sting in your skin made you jolt when his fingers brushed the first welt.
Eddie crouched beside him, holding your hip steady while Steve smoothed the cream across angry red stripes. The cool relief made you gasp. Eddie’s hand rubbed firm circles into your side, grounding you. “Breathe through it. Good girl.”
Each stripe was tended, each welt carefully touched until the fire dulled to a deep throb. Steve’s hands were steady, almost reverent, while Eddie kept you pinned in place. When they were finished, Eddie pressed a clean bandage against the worst of them, smoothing it down with surprising gentleness.
“Water,” Eddie muttered, and Steve left just long enough to return with a glass. He slid a hand under your head, helping you sip. “That’s it. Small sips. You’re okay.”
Once the glass was empty, Eddie pulled the blanket back and guided you beneath it. Steve tucked the corners snug, his palm smoothing over your hair.
“You’re loved,” Steve murmured. “Even when you’re impossible.”
Eddie’s voice followed, low and steady. “Especially then. But don’t mistake love for leniency.”
Your chest tightened. Exhaustion dragged at you, but the ache still simmered low, sharp enough to make you shift restlessly between them. The words clawed at your throat, a plea you were too raw to swallow. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, broken and small. “I was awful today.”
Steve’s arm curled tighter around you, his lips brushing your temple. “We know, sweetheart. But Daddy and Sir don’t play when you break rules. Not after what you pulled.” His voice stayed gentle, but the firmness beneath it left no room for argument.
Eddie reached across you, dragging the crinkled shopping bag into view. He set it on the nightstand where the lamplight caught just enough to tease the edge of what was inside. “We picked something up for you. A present for our sweet girl.”
Your pulse stumbled, guilt and want tangling sharp in your chest as your eyes fixed on the bag. Hope rose unbidden, too quick, too sharp, leaving your stomach twisting as soon as you realized it.
Eddie’s hand pressed your cheek back to the pillow. “Tomorrow. If you earn it.”
Steve’s coo followed like honey poured slow. “Sleep now, baby girl. Dream about it.”
The blanket was pulled up higher, the lamp clicked off, and their footsteps faded. Left aching, bandaged, and tucked in tight, the only thing sharper than the sting of punishment was the knowledge that the surprise sat waiting, just out of reach.
Morning came with sunlight spilling pale across the sheets. The first thing you felt was pain: your knees sore, your thighs tight, welts tender beneath the bandages. The second was warmth. Steve’s chest pressed solid against your back, his arm snug around your waist. Eddie’s weight curved into your other side, his face buried in your hair, his hand heavy and protective against your hip.
You blinked groggily, disoriented, but the rhythm of their breathing anchored you. Steve shifted, his morning hardness pressing into the curve of your ass before he murmured into your hair, lips brushing your shoulder. “Morning, trouble.”
Eddie stirred at the sound, voice still gravelled with sleep. His hand slid higher, smoothing over your stomach before giving the softest squeeze. “Morning, you two.” He pressed a kiss into your hair.
Steve’s gaze caught Eddie’s across you, his grin slow and crooked. He leaned forward just enough to steal a kiss over your head, soft and unhurried, Eddie meeting him with a low hum. The sight made your stomach flip, heat and something softer tangling sharp in your chest. For a heartbeat, you almost forgot the sting of last night, caught instead on the warmth curling tight between all three of you.
“Don’t get ideas, sweetheart,” Steve said, lips brushing your temple now. “Daddy and Sir don’t play the morning after punishment. You’ll get more than snuggles when you’ve earned it.”
The words made your cheeks burn, but their warmth closed in tight, grounding you between them. Eddie’s palm stroked slow up your side, not quite where you ached but close enough to remind you.
Then Eddie reached across you, tugging the crinkled bag from the nightstand. He set it on the bed in front of you, his mouth curving. “Go on. Open it.”
Your hands trembled as you peeled the tissue away. Nestled inside was the lava lamp you had wanted for weeks, the purple-and-pink one you had stared at every time they walked you past the shop.
Your breath caught. “You… you actually bought it?”
Steve’s smile was fond, almost smug. “Of course. We spoil our girl... when she earns it.”
Eddie’s eyes stayed sharp, but there was something softer under the weight of his stare. “Last night, you didn't earn it. This morning, maybe you can.”
Your throat ached as you clutched the lamp to your chest. Emotion burned hot behind your eyes, torn between shame and relief.
Steve kissed your temple, his voice low and warm. “You are loved, brat and all. Never forget it.”
Eddie’s hand pressed firmer at your hip, solid and certain. “And you are ours. Always.”
The ache hadn't faded, but it was held now inside the warmth of their arms and the glow of your new lamp waiting to be plugged in. For all the punishment, for all the rules, morning had come with love.
Summary: Eddie’s got some new stompers he needs to break in and a girlfriend who behaves like a needy whore. Two birds; one stone.
Word Count: 1.7k
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, boot riding, dirty talk, condescension, masturbation (m), dacryphilia, slight dom/sub dynamics, name calling (one use of slut), hair pulling, facial, cum play, humiliation, begging, sexual punishment
A/N: The way this was supposed to be a little blurb…. Ghost ‘Shut the Fuck Up’ Challenge: IMPOSSIBLE. Brought to you by me and this anon mind melding.
Masterlist
Submission Guidelines
Desperation sinks low in your gut, unfurling down into your core. Heat, desire, want—they cling to you like smoke against skin, seeping in and marking you in his scent.
Your hips squirm against taut leather, panties soaked and smearing wet streaks into the darkening black. Air races to leave your lungs after every drag, to and fro.
“Y’look so pretty like this, baby,” Eddie coos, gently brushing a thumb along your hairline.
You shiver at the affection. It comes so easily from his calloused hands and his sweet words. Condescension and awe, battling it out in the rasping catch of his voice.
“Mmm, gotta say—think it’s the prettiest you’ve ever looked…”
Blackened lashes creep into your vision from above, your chin is tipped high and your undulating hips threaten to send your eyes rolling all the way back.
But you can’t look away. No matter how many times your clit brushes against his woven laces, no matter how many times you crumble under the sparks of pleasure burning in the depths of you.
No, you have to watch. To be good. To maybe earn a better place than beneath him—
Beneath his cock. Beneath his stuttering hips and languid strokes.
Your eyelids grow heavy as you focus on the precum leaking from his thick, ruddy tip. Ragged breaths draw your jaw open, and you paw at his legs, like your eager grip could bring him into reach.
A particularly mind numbing grind of your hips has your tongue lolling out of your mouth. That one drop—
You can’t stop watching it—
His chuckle echoes in your mind, you feel the light taps he gives your cheek, but you won’t be swayed.
That delicious dribble is about to drop, and you’ve got your mouth wide open for it—
“That’s cute, honey,” he laughs, swiping your salvation away with his thumb…like it means nothing—
Like you’re not actively dying for just a taste.
Sealing your fate, he rumbles, “But I don’t think so.”
He has so much, why can’t you have just this one thing?
You don’t mean for it to happen, but tears spring to your eyes.
He’s kept you beneath him for twenty minutes now, lazily stroking his cock and choking the base when his eyes begin to roll. It’s pure torture. Every time you rut faster, he tells you to slow down. Every time you feel those sparks catch fire, he warns, “Be good.”
As if you haven’t been perfect for him.
As if you haven’t done every last thing he’s asked.
“You want my cock?” he asked.
“Yes,” you said.
“No, lemme hear you say it. Wanna hear those dirty words, angel.”
You paused, but you did it.
“Wan’ your cock, Eds, please,” you whimpered.
“Alright, baby— But first, can you do something for me? Something very important,” he purred, and you promised him anything.
And when he told you to break in his new boots, you only hesitated for a second.
Just a second.
But maybe it was the look in your eyes—
You’re not sure what he saw, but he wasn’t pleased—you know that.
This is your punishment.
Doomed to spend all eternity on the precipice of deliverance, while your savior watches and laughs. And mocks. And—
“Oh, baby. You always get so worked up, huh?” He focuses at the ridge of his cock head, twisting and teasing, squeezing until his slit is pulsing and weeping.
You nod, unsure whether pleasure or anguish is to blame for the frown lines marring your features.
“You’re so cute when you cry for my cock. Got such a nice face, makes me just wanna paint it.” The words sharpen against his bared teeth—a threat woven deep in tempestuous desire. His hips buck at a particularly gratifying flick of his wrist, then, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
It rings in your ear like an accusation, leaving you shaking and whimpering. It’s not untrue. That’s the worst part. Because he knows you—he knows you’ll plead and plead until he gives in. Until there’s perfect clarity who you belong to. Until you wear his mark.
You hum, nodding your head with a sniffle. And for a moment, you wonder if you truly just saw what you think you saw. If his jeering exterior really did lapse with a whisper of sympathy—a glimmer of affection in his eyes.
But then—
“Keep fuckin’ workin’, baby. Want these boots nice and covered in you—fuck, yeah, that’s it,” he groans, the grin of a hungry apex predator corroding his once-sweet features.
So you tremble and grind, flinch and whine under the stimulation shocking your nerves. You don’t stop. Not when his rhythm devolves into desperate, jerking motions. Not when your helpless cries reverberate against the trailer walls, sounding louder and louder in your own ears. You don’t stop, not even when his sharp words become dull as they struggle to slice through the fuzzy static in your head.
“Oh god,” you wail, your body stiffening, curling in on itself uncontrollably. Forehead pressed to his legs, nails sinking into jean-clad thighs, you become a victim to your self-inflicted pleasure.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Eddie bites out, tangling his fingers in your hair and pulling…hard. Hard enough that you’re forced to look up at him once more. Forced to witness his undoing.
“You’re gonna fuckin’ watch what you do to me, baby. ‘S is what happens when you get all cock drunk and teary-eyed on me.”
Possessed, he fucks his fist desperately. His fiery gaze never leaves your face, like he’s picturing his target.
“Say you wan’ it, angel. Say you wan’ my cum all over your pretty face,” he orders, tightening his hold on your hair.
The world is blurry as you stare at his cock—throbbing and leaking, nearly choking under his unforgiving grip. Your thighs are burning and you just want to be freed. To be released from your punishment and hopefully take your rightful place back in his good graces. So you force the words through ragged breaths.
“W-Wan’ it—oh, god!” Those damn laces. “Please—please, please, please, gimme your cum! Need it, Eddie, please!”
He grunts, then clicks his tongue. “That’s not what I told you to say, now is it? Goin’ off script, huh?”
His tone is calm, but his words nick your skin as they pour over you. A thousand little razorblades carving their disappointment.
“I-I’m sorry, Ed-die—unh! I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you rush out, the words spinning around your empty brain like a broken record as your clit pulses, catching on every crease and curve of his boot. “W-What—what did—”
“Beg me to paint your pretty face,” he orders again, silencing your question with a yank to your hair.
“Cum on my face! Please—please, cum on my face—oh, god!” you cry out, uncontrollably trembling as you teeter on the edge of nothing and everything.
His cock twitches in his hand like a threat, but he chokes the base in a white-knuckled grip. “Ah, fuck, you’re so cute when you act like a slut—but you’re missin’ one word. Wanna hear you say it.”
You heave as another sob brings a fresh wave of tears. Helplessness numbs your mind—or maybe it’s the wet heat deep in your core. Either way, you can’t seem to understand the game he’s playing. It doesn’t quite feel fair, though, you know those are his favorite types of games. The ones where, no matter if you win or lose, he always gets the prize in the end.
“I don’t know—please, just tell me,” you strain, indifferent to how pitiful you must look to him. “I’ll do anything—I’ll say anything, please just—”
“I told you to beg me to cum on your pretty face. Now I wanna hear that,” he states slowly, yet impatiently.
Heat creeps up your neck, but you’re in no position to yield to it.
“Please, Eddie, cum on my pretty face.” You all but mutter the words, unable to stop the way your voice dips, like your subconscious mind is still looking out for you, saving you from humiliation.
Eddie pulls your head closer, bringing you a matter of inches away from his cock. The motion is like a shock to your system, sending you plummeting to a new low of desperation—of humiliation. Your mouth drops open as you stretch impossibly closer—careful not to lift or slow your hips—tongue lolling out once more.
“What was that?” he huffs, tilting his head with the weight of condescension. “Couldn’t hear you, baby. What’d you say?”
His cruelty triggers a kind of brainless need that turns your racing heartbeat into a ticking time bomb as you grind down on him, unable to run from the ecstasy any longer. “Shit—ah! Please, cum on my pretty face! Fucking cum on my pretty face, Eddie-unh!”
His name echoes from your mouth, like it’s the only thing in this reality your mind can cling to. Everything else just melds together as your body trembles weakly, twitching frenziedly.
“Oh, fuck, sweetheart— Yeah, I’ll paint your pretty face for you,” he grits out; the salacious promise shattering on heaving breaths. He bucks his hips, haphazardly adjusting your head.
The first spurt of cum lands on your cheek like a shot, the sudden warmth making you flinch. But his grip on your hair leaves you little room to move. Eyes closed, you sit beneath him, low and boneless, muscles burning and sparking like a livewire as rope after rope of his spend coats your face, mixing with your tears of relief.
“Shit, baby,” he breathes, squeezing the head of his sated cock until the very last bead of cum rolls out. Then he drags the tip against your parted lips, spreading the rivulet on soft skin. “Fuck, y’did so good for me. This is all you, sweetheart. All of this is for you.”
You sniffle, slowly opening your eyes to find pure adoration in his, and you let yourself lean into his gentle caress, his thumb swiping through the mess he made.
“W-Was I good?” you ask, needing to hear the praise again and again.
“So good,” he promises, “So pretty and sweet. Said you look best like this.”
You whimper, stuttering breaths wracking through your chest as you try to come down, hugging his legs like a lifeline. He continues to inspect his hard work, seemingly relishing mixing his cum with your tears. You continue to let him. It’s the prize for the game you still have yet to win.
A/N: Please, please, please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed this. Finding motivation to write has been hard with life happening as it is, but seeing people enjoy and appreciate my work and the time I put into writing makes all the effort worth it :) <3 Love y'all, smooches to you and yours <3
Tag List: @meetmeatyourworst @ratsematary @american-idiot-jpg @glassbxttless @justalotoffanfiction
Eddie Munson Masterlist 𐴱 Main Masterlist 𐴱 Taglist 𐴱 Reading List 𐴱 Pinned Post 𐴱 Moodboard side-Blog
Summary: Headcanons for Eddie Munson dating a country girl who moved to Hawkins from Georgia for a request.
Warning: A little NSFW, Oral, mentions of sex, The boots stay on during sex.
꩜ Despite Hawkins being a small town, It's much bigger than the Georgia town you'd grown up in. Moving there felt like stepping into another world entirely.
꩜ Back home, most of the other kids at your school lived on farms, same as you did, and dressed a little more rugged. Blue jeans and worn leather boots regardless of your gender, but in Hawkins, it was all bright colours and flowy skirts. You felt like you were from the stone ages the first time you saw someone with feathered hair.
꩜ You'd never felt more out of place than you did on your first day at Hawkins high. In a sea of not-so-friendly faces, you found yourself staring at your boots half the time while you tried to navigate your way through the winding halls to the office. You'd found your morning classes without too much confusion and had stood at the front of the class with pink cheeks while the teacher introduced you.
꩜ Other kids stared and whispered to their friends when you tried to find your place in the cafeteria at lunch. There was a clear division of cliques. Jocks, preps, nerds and boisterous laughter in the back corner from a group of boys in matching shirts. Your gaze traveled to them amidst the noise and you flinched when you found brown eyes staring back from across the room.
꩜ Eddie Munson knew a lost little sheep when he saw one and you, were the prettiest lamb he'd ever seen in his life. He was on his feet and walking towards you before he even knew he was doing it, quick to invite you to sit with him before someone else took you in.
꩜ He'd be obsessed with your southern accent, instantly charmed.
꩜ You'd be bombarded with questions as soon as you sat down, wide eyed and a little overwhelmed by the curious metalhead. His friends would just gawk at you at first, in disbelief that a girl was sitting at their table. A pretty one, no less.
꩜ I picture you as more of a rough and tumble southern girl than a belle. You've got grit. Maybe a few too many cuss words in your vocabulary than the average high school student, and god, Eddie's absolutely smitten.
꩜ Eddie hates farms, but he'll go to yours just to hang out with you after school, even if that means he's standing there trying to help you do chores, shrieking like a banshee while he's chased by a rogue hen. Eddie isn't quite cut out for the farm life, but he'll brave it for you.
꩜ It'd take you months, even after the two of you start dating, to convince Eddie to get on a horse. He'd come up with every excuse in the book, but you'd eventually talk him into it, even if you can tell he's trying so hard not to look scared in front of you. The second the horse starts walking, he'd yelp, clinging to the reins like a lifeline while you laughed at him.
꩜ He's cracking the corniest dirty jokes, like "I'm no horse, but you can ride me all day" and "Baby, I wanna foal-fill your needs all night long. Get it? Like foal?" He'd die laughing every time and you'd try to roll your eyes and look unimpressed, but it always gets a chuckle out of you.
꩜ Being on a farm, there'd be so many places y'all could sneak out to and fuck. He'd make it his life's mission to fulfill ever cheesy porn trope he's ever seen. You'd constantly have hay in your hair from being tossed onto or bent over bales. Eddie's absolutely the type to whine about being itchy after.
꩜ The two of you would go on lots of outside dates. Picnics, trail rides (Once you get him over his fear of horses) and impromptu slow dances in the barn while music crackles through the speakers of your dad's old battery powered radio, become the norm.
꩜ Every time, without fail, these dates end with Eddie's face buried between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. He loves the feeling of the heel of your boots digging into his shoulder blades through his leather jacket while you squirm beneath him.
꩜ I think he'd love the boots, and a hat, if you're the type to wear one, so much that he'd beg you leave them on during sex. Just them, nothing else.
Dividers and Banners by me on my side-blog @dividers-are-us
Dreamweaver's Note: This is a Cosmic post, which means it has already been published once but due to being hacked I had to start over since I lost everything. -Ultralight
Before you has started dating Eddie Munson you had spent most your Halloween nights eating candy and watching all the kids pass by in their costumes. But being Eddie’s girlfriend now meant that you had been invited for the DnD horror movie marathon.
And when you say invited you mean like…. Well more so told that you would be coming. Not that you minded because you loved Eddie, and if having a horror movie night with his friends was what he wanted then you would be happy to.
But here is the thing, you had school and you were not used to staying up as late as all of them. You were tired, and the only lights in the room were coming from the tv, not to mention you were warm and cozy curled up in Eddie’s side.
So… somewhere in the middle of Halloween you had fallen asleep.
Sleeping so peacefully, with Eddie’s arm wrapped around you. It was honestly really sweet….. You were not dating sweet. You were dating Eddie.
The second he realizes you are asleep an idea pops into his head, so he eased his arm out from under you, whispering to the guys his plan before sneaking out of the trailer.
-
Gareth is the one to wake you, shaking you quickly that has you jumping up.
“What? What’s going on?” You panic, rubbing the sleep from your eyes quickly as all the boys yell and scream which freaks you out. “Where is Eddie?!”
“He saw someone staring in the fucking windows! He ran to get them-”
“He what?!” You panic, tears springing to your eyes. You were freaking out and there were far too many of them surrounding you.
As the tears start springing from your eyes there is a loud smack on the window that has you screaming at the top of your lungs, the window sliding open and someone with a mask diving in smoothly.
Still screaming as you start to register the leather jacket and rings, finally gasping in as all the boys around you laugh.
“Happy Halloween Y/n.” Jeff smiles, but you’re still crying, swiping at your cheeks furiously as Eddie snatches the mask off.
“That thing was suffocating me!” He smiles, fixing his hair and hopping up from the couch. “Did we get her?”
Before they can even answer you shove past him, storming into his room and slamming the door.
-
The door to the bedroom slides open slowly, some light trickling in before Eddie closes it again. You hear him shuffling, undressing himself before he crawls into the bed and covers himself with the blankets, moving closer to you.
“I’m sorry.” He whispers.
“Shut. Up.”
“I just wanted to have some fun, it’s Halloween.”
“It wasn’t funny.” You snap out. “My idea of funny is a funny movie and crap tons of candy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You keep saying that Eds.”
“Because I am, and I really wanna make it up to you.”
“How?”
“How about a slasher movie marathon with just us tomorrow night?”
“Eds….”
“Please, I can make up for this.”
“Fine. But no Halloween.”
-
The next night Eddie gets snacks, setting up. But by the time you both actually start the movie, sleep claims you both. This time no jump scares, just Eddie holding you tightly as you sleep through the night.
You genuinely had no clue what had happened. One second you and your four partners were celebrating your massive win for the Judgement day, next you were begging and dripping for them.
“We thought it would be fun to put a special something into your drink love,” Finn said smugly. The others smiled around you. You whined into the side of Rheas thigh. She put her hand out and stoked your long locks.
Now that you were looking back on it, that’s why the whole car ride home was torture. You had no clue why you were so worked up. Your vision was blurred and you couldn’t think straight. You didn’t want to bother your partners after the long day they’ve all had. Apparently that wasn’t the case at all.
“You ok down there chica?” Dom asked teasingly. You couldn’t respond, all that would come out was a guttural moan. You were on the verge of tears at this point. The embarrassment and hormones were getting to you.
“Aw, I think she might cry,” said Finn, pointing out your struggles. It was all his fault really, he’s the one who thought of this horrendous, humiliating idea.
“Cmon, on the bed, now.” Demanded Rhea. She was always the strictest. The others just loved to tease and manipulate you. Like you couldn’t think for yourself. Except, when they did shit like this you really couldn’t. But that’s a different story.
The sight before them was truly mesmerizing. Their beautiful girl spread on Dom and Finn’s cocks. Dom was underneath, balls deep in her cunt. While Finn was thrusting in and out of her ass. You were practically a drooling, babbling mess between them. Completely brainless. Further proving their point of you never being able to leave them.
You couldn’t control the noise coming out of your mouth, no, you gave that up a while ago. “Is someone getting tired,” Rhea said condescendingly, in a mocking tone. All you could do was nod your head yes. That wasn’t good enough, you knew that.
Finn hit a particularly hard thrust into you, making your chest burn a little. “We want words baby,” Damian said from across the room, stroking his dick to the pornagraphic scene infront of him. “Yes!” You desperately shouted.
Your body was exhausted, you’d already come four times! Lord knows how many times Dom and Finn had came. Of course you felt every one though. Infact, the bed, Dom and Finn’s legs, and basically your whole body were ruined with their loads.
You were nearing your fifth and hopefully final orgasm. Dom’s needy moans where enough tog eat you off on its own. Not to mention the double penetration.
The aphrodisiacs had worn off a long time ago. But apparently, these two had enough stamina to go for days. They had forgotten that you couldn’t though.
Finally, after hours of cumming from everyone, they were finally done. At Rheas command of course.
“I think she’s had enough boys,” she said with a wicked grin. It was only after your sixth and their fourth orgasms that she said stop. It was better than nothing you guess.
When Finn and Dom pulled out at the same time it felt raw. You whined at the emptiness. Not like you wanted more or anything. You had your fill.
Your body was so tired, you’d already immediately collapsed on top of Dom. Quite literally falling asleep. You didn’t care about cleaning up, you physically couldn’t. You left it up to them anyways. They put you in this situation so they can deal with the fallout.
And of course they did. They always did. Deep down, even though they profusely deny it, they care. How could they not, you were perfect for them. Whether you liked it or not. You were stuck with them.
older!neighbor!eddie finding out somehow about his (reader) neighbors age kink through a mutual friend and teasing her w it when she goes over to talk to him abt smth 😳🫣
The Life And Times Of a Teenage Rock God
Pairing: Older!Eddie Munson x Reader
WC: 12.2k
Summary: Eddie is fine on his own, he doesn’t need, nor does he want, a wife. He loves his solitary lifestyle, it suits him just fine. That is until he meets his new neighbor…
A/N: I need to stop creating overarching storylines and just write the requests as is lmao. Me making Eddie an anti-wife guy for irony is what pushed this to 12.2k words. It took me a minute to get inspiration for the request, but here we are. I did change it just a bit to something that made more sense for me. If my Eddie x Popular!Reader fic is late, it’s because of this. Pls forgive any mistakes, I'm washing my hands of this brain worm. Also, idk what timeframe we’re in here, Eddie grew up like he did in the show, but I didn’t write it like it was 2009 because the 2010’s era makes me cringe. Anywhores, thanks for the request! My inbox is open, but I can't promise anything.
Tags: it’s a lot- here we go, SMUT, 18+ minors dni, unprotected sex, cum eating, PiV sex, pussy eating, cum play, breeding kink, age kink, age gap (E is 43 R is 27), pregnancy kink, thoughts of pregnancy sex, use of the word ‘whorish’, kind of dumbification, humiliation kink kinda, slight degradation but in a condescending way not really name calling, overuse of the word hole, hole as a nickname, pubes, breast play, nipple stimulation, sir kink, eddie gets dommy, reader gets a little subby- just a smidge, thoughts of cock sucking, egregious flirtation, dirty talk, begging, innocence kink, a few jokes during sex, messy making out, reader gets insecure about her pussy before eddie eats her out, jealousy, yearning, mutual pining, strangers to lovers, eddie’s jumping the gun wanting you pregnant and married to him after first meeting, Robin and Vickie are wives (don’t talk to me about the US gay marriage timeline- they’re wives), Steve has an OC wife named Jess, possessive!Eddie, mentions of fighting a guy, Eddie is so cutesy old fashioned, I can’t think of anything else- if I missed anything pls lmk
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
Eddie didn’t feel very old, he’d rather argue he’s pretty spry for 43-years-old. He ate decent enough, long gone were the days of living off of Funyons and Mountain Dew. He kept fairly fit, he didn’t hit the gym, but he did a lot of manual labor at the shop as Head Mechanic.
Of course he felt his age a bit when the kids—who were no longer kids—came back into town with their wives. Lucas and Max, the girl he used to refer to as the scary redhead who he now knows is a scary redhead, Mike and El, and Dustin and Susie. Hell, even Harrington’s group of rugrats age him a bit. It’s like every time one of Steve's kids hits 3-years-old he decides it’s time for another one. Poor Jess.
He thinks his life of solitude has kept him young—no screaming kids giving him grey hairs, no nagging wife causing him frown lines. Life is good.
Robin doesn’t believe that for a second, though. She’s been trying to get Eddie back out there for five years now, completely ignoring his pleas for her to stop setting him up on dates with the girls she knows. He always has weird experiences with her friends, unsure how she even finds such eccentric women.
Every summer since the guys moved into the same neighborhood twelve years ago, Steve throws a block party open to all neighbors. It’s a huge barbecue-pool-party type of thing, complete with Steve’s array of stupid aprons.
This year he’s wearing the one Eddie got him as a gift for his birthday. It’s black with a spatula and a two-pronged fork crossed in an ‘X’ formation with the words, 'My meat isn’t gonna rub itself.’ Eddie thought it was hilarious. Robin, on the other hand, shook her head muttering, ‘dinguses,’ under her breath.
Every time they get together, Robin tries to show Eddie how nice it is to have a wife, often using Vickie as an example. It makes him roll his eyes—she’s so transparent, can’t hide her endgame if her life depended on it.
Vickie hands Robin a plate of food she gathered for her from the buffet style table, the chatty woman too engrossed in a conversation with Eddie about the difference between Metal and Rock.
“No, you misunderstand me! My point is rock is like an umbrella,” she makes a broad gesture above her head, “and metal—oh, thanks, hun!” She tips her head back to smile at Vickie’s figure behind her shoulder, taking the plate from her hands.
Eddie can’t help but smile at their easy affection. He remembers hearing from Steve how horribly nervous Robin was about even talking to Vickie. Now they’ve been together for twenty-two years. Even that makes his cold, dead heart thaw a little. That is until Robin gives him a pointed look.
“Seeee? A wife is a plus! You don’t have to get your own food!” She says it like she’s trying to sell him the newest upgrade to his cellphone. It makes him shake his head, an amused expression settling onto his pale face.
“Uh,” Vickie cuts in, a finger in the air as if making a point, “yes, you do have to get your own food. I’m only doing this because of that thing you did earlier.” Her voice lowers like it’s a secret Eddie shouldn’t hear.
“Ah,” Robin nods, catching on to Vickie’s insinuation. “Yes, that thing that I did to you earlier with my thing on your thing.”
Eddie snorts, Robin has not changed in all his years of knowing her—never really a smooth criminal.
“You guys do know I know how the birds and the bees work—or,” he pauses, stuttering a bit before continuing, “I guess…the bees and the bees in this case.” His brow is scrunched, lip curled, cringing at his awkward save.
“You know I’d like to think that you do, Eddie. I really would, but I don’t see a ring on your finger.” Robin shakes her head, reprimanding him.
Eddie guffaws, “What are you, Saint Robin? I need to marry first before I can have sex?”
“Well—,”
“And by the way, I have had sex before,” he implores.
“Sure you have, champ,” she pats his knee condescendingly, shooting him a placating look.
“Whatever, I don’t need to take this from you,” he mutters indignantly, getting up to check on Steve at the grill.
“Hey, buddy!” Steve drawls, flipping a burger before looking up at his best friend.
Eddie grumbles a greeting, turning to face the party, his back to the grill, a cold beer in his hands.
Eager to fill the silence, Steve picks the first subject that that comes to mind.
“I hate these singles, you know—,” he shakes his head, looking down at his messy grill station. He prepares to expand on his complaint, but Eddie beats him to it, a complaint of his own already on top of mind.
“Oh, please! Like you couples are a joy to be around! It’s always, ‘I gotta ask my wife,’ ‘Sorry, I can’t come out tonight, I’m too busy looking for my balls,’” he mocks. “News flash! They’re rolling around in her purse!”
Steve opens his mouth to ask Eddie what the hell he’s so bent out of shape for, but he can’t get a word in. The man’s too busy going off on one of his grand speeches—just like old times.
“I don’t need anybody, okay? I’m perfectly fine on my own! In fact, I’m more than fine. I'm happy! I’m glad I don’t have anybody waiting for me to get home! I’m fucking ecstatic that I get to eat alone! Nobody takes my food, I probably save thousands of dollars buying everything for one! Not everybody wants to be married and pop out a whole baseball team like you and your wife, Steve!”
Eddie’s meltdown draws the attention of a few surrounding partygoers, earning him some judgemental stares and curled lips.
Steve looks at him like he’s grown two heads, his eyebrows furrowed, mouth agape as he lets Eddie’s words become stale in the hot summer air. Just really letting him stew in it before he decides to speak again.
“Okay…project much?” He shakes his head in disbelief, “I was talking about the burgers. Robin bought me individually wrapped burgers, in single packaging. It’s been a bitch to unwrap all 30 of ‘em.” His explanation is saturated in a level of sass he hasn’t released in years.
Eddie deflates at the sight of the scraps of white paper and cellophane littering the ground on the other side of the grill, feeling incredibly stupid right about now.
“Oh…yeah. I knew that…” He shoves his free hand into his pocket trying to fight through the embarrassment, “I love Jess, by the way. She’s great; gorgeous family you have there,” he rushes out, nodding his head with a forced grin that resembles bared teeth more than genuine happiness.
Steve tilts his head incredulously, just in utter disbelief that Eddie would even think that’s a sufficient save. “Shut up.”
“Shutting up.” Eddie frantically nods, pressing his mouth shut, resigning himself to standing in the awkward tension he created.
Thankfully, he’s ‘saved by the Robin’ as she comes rushing over with Vickie hot on her trail.
“Steve, you have a new neighbor! She just pulled in with her U-Haul, it looks like she’s unpacking everything herself.”
She stops to catch her breath, all the information spilling out in one excited spiel. In a flash, she turns her bright eyes to Eddie, his eyebrows raising at being singled out. “And she’s a total hottie! Maybe a little young, but you could be a manther!”
He recoils in disgust at the name, here we go again, he thinks. Matchmaker Robin to the rescue.
Steve looks at Robin like she’s grown two heads or asked him to go halfsies on a timeshare. “Robin!” he bites out, the clipped tone attempting to yank her proverbial leash like she’s a much too excited dog.
He can’t believe she just said that in front of her wife. If he said that in front of Jess, the balls that Eddie claims are in her purse would soon be at the bottom of Lovers Lake, right next to his weighted body.
Vickie quickly cuts in, coming to her wife’s defense. “Oh, no, it’s fine! She is a total hottie,” she nods understandingly.
“Robin, I am begging you to stop setting me up with the women you know.” Eddie holds his hands up, pressing them together, pleading with her. “Also, no offense, but you’ve lost all credibility in determining hotness. The last girl you set me up with looked like Uncle Wayne in a wig and a tube top,” he deadpans.
“Um,” Vickie jerks her head back like she’s been slapped, a frown etched into her freckled face, “full offense taken, by the way.”
Before Eddie can tell her he didn’t mean to call her hotness as Robin’s wife into question, Robin is pulling him and Steve across the yard to the neighboring house. The one that’s been up for sale for six months.
Steve’s still clutching his spatula as he’s pulled away, shouting over his shoulder, “Honey, man the station! Don’t let my burgers burn!” He tosses the spatula to a very pregnant Jess who scrambles to catch it.
Eddie’s attempting to go deadweight, leaning back against Robin’s strong pull, but the woman must be on steroids because she’s trucking Steve and him along just fine.
She pulls them from the backyard to the side of your driveway with frightening ease. When they arrive, your back is turned to them. You’re wearing high-waisted jean shorts and a pink tank top—an earnest attempt to stay cool in the hot Indiana sun.
You’re reaching for a box you creatively labeled ‘clothes’ when you hear a woman’s voice behind you, causing you to turn around.
“Hi, I’m Robin! Welcome to the neighborhood, I don’t live here! Here, have two men!” It all comes out in a jumble as she pushes Eddie and Steve forward towards you. “They can help you move whatever you need!”
As quick as she arrived, she hurried away. You didn’t even get to introduce yourself to her. She just spoke quickly at you, then shoved two random men towards you. You watch her retreat back to the block party, amused confusion riddling your face.
In her absence, you turn to look at the men in front of you, hesitating on what to say—you’ve never had this happen before. Usually, men aren’t brought to you on a silver platter, despite your many wishes during ovulation week.
You open your mouth to say something when the man in the apron gets there quicker. “Sorry about her.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, vaguely gesturing to where Robin disappeared to. “She can be really direct. I’m Steve! Nice to meet you.” He shakes your hand as you tell him your name. Both of you silently wait, eyeing his friend. It’s Eddie’s cue to introduce himself, but he’s too busy staring at you.
His jaw dropped the moment you turned around, thoroughly convinced he’s never seen a woman so beautiful in his entire life. The way your clothes fit you so nicely—your shorts might as well be painted on you. He’s immediately thinking lewd thoughts at the sight of the unyielding jean hem squeezing the fat of your thighs.
He’s pretty sure he could paint your every feature from memory with how deeply his roving eyes are consuming your image. Don’t even get him started on the way your tank top accentuates your breasts. He feels like a teenager all over again, trying to think of math equations so he doesn’t pop an ill-timed boner.
Then all of a sudden you’re looking at him. Everything is in slow motion: you’re coming closer; he’s breathing in deeply through his nose to desperately catch your scent; your gorgeous lips are moving and he’s imagining them moving up and down on his cock. But his reverie is broken when he feels a sharp pain in his ribs, sending him forward in a jolt, a sputtering cough tumbling out of his mouth.
Feeling like he just woke up from a dream, he quickly realizes Steve knuckle-punched him right in the ribs. Straightening up, he glares at his abuser before turning to you again. Your ethereal face looks across between concerned and amused at the actions his so-called ‘friend’ committed. He’s needs to have a talk with Steve about not hitting him like a 12-year-old in front of hot women—especially the hottest woman.
“What?” Eddie mutters the question, having missed what you said before when he was too busy thinking about your lips on his—stop. Cringing, he considers how he probably sounds like such a doofus. ‘What?’ smooth, Munson, he thinks.
But you don’t laugh in his face, call him an idiot, and go back to your work like you probably should. No, instead, you just grin at his clearly dumbstruck face.
“I said, ‘And you are?’” You bat your lashes at him, tilting your chin down, never taking your eyes off of his.
“Eddie…Munson,” he cringes at the way his name felt foreign on his own tongue just now. What the hell are you doing to him? You’re like some kind of siren and he’s a sailor being lured, except you’re not singing. Actually, you’re not even trying to lure him and he’s already showing up with goggles, flippers, and a snorkel, diving into the waves in your eyes, all on his own free will. If you are a siren, he’s planning to be your easiest catch yet.
Steve’s watching his friend absolutely flounder in this interaction, shaking his head. ‘I’m happy alone,’ he mocks Eddie’s earlier words.
“Well, Eddie Munson,” you look him up and down like he’s a five course meal and you’re prêt-à-manger, “you look pretty strong, care to help a poor girl out?”.
“Yeah, I’m really strong,” he nods, unblinking eyes on yours, despite his awkward phrasing. That wasn’t what you asked, but his mind is running about as fast as Dial-up Internet. He sounds like one of Steve’s boys whenever the man asks if anybody can help him pick up the lawn chairs. The irony of a clearly younger woman making him feel like a horny, stuttering teenager again is not lost on him.
Your smirk only widens. Steve’s looking between you and Eddie in the silence of your nonresponse, suddenly feeling very out of place—the tension thick like molasses. He clears his throat, drawing your eyes to him.
“I’m here, too, by the way.” He raises his hand like it’s roll call back in high school.
You huff out an amused breath, “Come on, I could use both of you,” nodding your head back to the truck. You push a large box out of the way, clearing a path for them to pick up your dresser from inside the truck.
Eddie follows you, a little too close to your distracted body, his mind whirring at your comments about using him.
When you turn back to ask them to get the dresser, you jump at Eddie’s proximity to you. You didn’t realize he was following so closely, practically on your heels.
“Oh! Jesus!” You backup a little from his body, a hand clutching your heart as you laugh at the scare.
Steve is quick to pull Eddie away from you by the back of his faded band tee, already apologizing for his friend’s creepy behavior. “Sorry, he failed out of obedience school,” he quips nervously.
Eddie’s too busy staring at you to hit Steve for his comment.
“That’s alright,” you size the metalhead up, a flirtatious glint in your eye. “He seems like he’d be better at giving orders anyway.”
Eddie’s fighting tooth and nail to withhold a groan at your words. The way you’re looking at him could send him into cardiac arrest. Every flirtation is accompanied with hungry eyes and an innocent smile, he feels like he could make a religion out of it. He’d develop a full on multi-level marketing scheme to recruit followers in your name, indoctrinating as many apostles as he could. He’d create the rules to your religion himself—rule number one would be: only he gets to fuck you.
Steve blanches at your brazen comment, both thankful you’re not looking at him like that and traumatized he’s being forced to watch a woman flirt with Eddie while he fumbles the interaction astronomically.
You move on like you didn’t just say the nastiest thing Eddie’s heard in a while. “I could use help with the dresser. I was supposed to have a friend come help me, but he actually called to flake out right before you guys came over here.” You chuckle nervously, feeling embarrassed for over-explaining yourself to these attractive strangers.
Eddie bristles at the mention of a male friend. He finds himself wondering if you have a boyfriend—which makes him feel even more weird. Regardless, he tries to convince himself you probably don’t, and if you do, he’d like to have a talk with the douche who left you to do all the grunt work.
Grunt work.
Now he’s thinking about the grunt work he’d like to do with you. Mentally slapping himself, he refocuses his mind. You asked for his help, so he’s damn well going to give it to you.
“No problem, we can do it right, Steve?” He looks to Steve who’s hesitating. If he knew he was going to help somebody move, he would’ve stretched, or just offered to pay for movers so he doesn’t have to do any work. But that’s not doable, so he begrudgingly nods.
They work together to pull the dresser to the edge of the truck, carrying it into your new house at your direction, both releasing relieved grunts when they set the heavy structure down.
“Thank you so much, guys, really! Is there any way I could repay you?” Your brows are furrowed, a hopeful, wide eyed gaze bouncing between the two huffing men.
“Don’t worry about it,” Steve waves his hand at you, heading to leave your mostly empty bedroom.
“No bed?” Eddie noticed the dresser was the only large thing in the U-Haul—no bed already in the bedroom either. He was hoping you’d need a little more help than one thing. He just gained the ability to talk to you, he doesn’t want to leave now.
You’re caught off guard by his question, but you answer nonetheless. “Oh! Um, no, it's being delivered tomorrow, along with my couch and some other things,” you nod.
Confusion takes over his face at your explanation. “Where are you going to sleep tonight?”
You have no couch and no bed—he doesn’t see any comfortable place for you to rest. You can’t possibly sleep on the floor, that’d be ridiculous.
You smile at his scrunched up face, appreciating the cute wrinkle in his brow, and the concerned brown doe eyes. “That friend I mentioned earlier has an extra bedroom.”
“The flaky friend?” He knows that’s who you mean, but he feels the need to point out that the guy couldn’t show up to help his ‘friend’ with her stuff. And now he’s going to sleep with near you? Eddie feels like fighting this guy and he doesn’t even know him. He realizes his feelings are a bit dramatic, but you look like that!
Your smile widens at his comment, not taking any offense by it, but Steve cuts in before you can respond. “Okay, Eddie, you got your answer. Come on, she probably wants to unpack now,” he gives you a tight lipped smile.
“Well, we can’t just do one thing.” Eddie turns around, heading back out to the moving truck full of boxes. “Come on, Steve! You could use the workout, Mr. Dad Bod.” He pats Steve’s beer gut, causing Steve to smack his hand away.
You rush to follow their quick retreat. “No, you guys don’t have to help! I know you’ve got a party going on,” you gesture to Steve’s backyard, the chattering and the music still going strong. You can hear screaming kids and the splashing of pool water. It sounds like a great time, you’d feel horrible if they wasted such a beautiful day on helping a stranger move in.
Steve’s quick to tilt his head at Eddie who’s currently stacking two boxes on top of each other to carry into your house. “Well, she does have a point—”
“Nonsense, Steve,” Eddie glares at him before nodding over his shoulder to the boxes waiting to be brought in. “Now, come on. Many hands make light work.” He’s already carrying the stacked boxes through your front door.
Steve just nods, resigning himself to helping.
You glance at him with uncertainty in your eyes. “Are you sure? You really don’t have to—”
He opens his mouth to speak, picking up a box, but before he gets a word out, Eddie’s jogging back out, clapping him on the shoulder. “Of course, he is! Plus, this’ll be good because once we get your stuff inside, you can come over to the party and have a drink!”
His easy grin is intoxicating as he looks at you, shiny brown eyes alight with excitement, effectively relieving you of any doubt.
“Sure, I’d love to,” you nod, smiling to yourself as you pick up a box.
Before you can turn around to take it inside, Eddie pulls it out of your hands. You frown, about to ask him what he’s doing when he reprimands you.
“Nope! Ladies aren’t for working, they’re for directing men and lookin’ cute,” he grins, leaning into you for emphasis. Turning around, he shoves the stolen box onto the one Steve’s already holding.
You scoff at his arbitrary ruling, “But I—”
He shakes his head, cutting you off, “No ‘but’s. Now show me where you want these?”
Sighing, you feel an amused smile work its way onto your face at his insistence on helping you.
Eddie was right, many hands do make light work. The men are done in no time, all the boxes brought into your house and placed in their necessary rooms, ready to be unpacked at your convenience. You’re directing Steve where to put the last box when Eddie comes up behind you, holding your vintage Coca-Cola sign.
“You like a lot of old stuff,” he points out, looking between you and the sign. He nearly squealed earlier when he saw your massive framed Metallica tour poster. It was for the Damaged Justice tour back in ‘88—the one he actually went to.
You smile at his comment, appreciating the way his t-shirt sleeves are rolled up to his shoulders, showing off his muscle definition. You can see the many tattoos littering his pale skin, all inky black and in perfect contrast. He must lotion himself religiously because they all look great for his age, assuming he got them when he was younger, of course.
Midway through helping you move, he had put his hair up in a low bun, his poofy curls resting in a knot at the knape of his neck. A few pieces seemed to have fallen free at all the bend and lifting, framing his face so beautifully it makes your mouth water. You hope to god he had a hair tie because of how often he puts his hair up, not because he’s got a woman at home.
Only one way to find out.
“Well, what can I say? I like my stuff like I like my men,” you smile sweetly at him, taking the Coke sign from his hands and meeting his eyes, “old.”
You turn around to put the sign back where he found it, knowing his eyes are on you—the feeling making you grin. No man has ever made you feel so powerful. You’re about to turn into a dictator if he doesn’t put you in your place, and god, do you want him to.
Eddie feels like he could run a marathon from the vigor that your comment has instilled in him; he feels twenty-two again. Unsure how this night will go, he’s praying to his god—that is now you—that he can go home with you.
Steve overhears your flirtatious comment, sees the felonious hunger in Eddie’s eyes, and suddenly finds himself searching for the nearest exit. He’s had it with the eye fucking happening between you two.
“What’s that?” He perks his head up like he’s hearing something, his voice draws both your and Eddie’s attention. “Yeah, I’ll be right there, honey!” He calls out to his wife as if she were in the other room, not in the backyard next door.
You laugh, meeting the amused eyes of Eddie before looking back at Steve.
Of course, Eddie can’t help but fuck with his friend for his poor excuse of an exit plan. “I didn’t hear anything… Did you?”
You bite your lip, attempting to temper the smile threatening to take over your face at Eddie’s offer to team up against Steve. Not wanting to poke fun at Steve quite yet, you shrug impassively.
Steve knows exactly what Eddie’s doing and he could damn-near punch him for it. “Yeah, well, you’re not in tune with the vibrational frequencies of a very pregnant wife,” he bites.
He goes to leave but not before stopping at your front door, turning to face you again. “It was nice to meet you. Feel free to come over and join the party if you’d like,” he smiles.
“Thanks, Steve! And thank you for all your help!”
He simply nods and then he’s out the door, effectively leaving you all alone with Eddie for the very first time.
Eddie’s watching the door Steve just left out of as you turn a flirty smile towards him. “Is your wife calling you too?” you ask after a beat of silence, a teasing lilt to your voice.
Eddie’s eyes meet yours, a small smile on his lips before he shrugs. “Don’t have one.”
It’s a simple answer, but you can never be sure what you’re walking into, so you ask what feels like the most logical next question. “Widowed?”
“Single,” he quickly clears up, his eyes monitoring your every move with rapt attention, trying to gauge your reaction to the new information. Just like the siren you are, you give nothing away, remaining mysterious and alluring.
Your eyes narrow at him, tilting your head, “Looking?”
“I wasn’t.”
The conversation is like a tennis match—both of you keeping up with unbridled enthusiasm, no clear winner in sight.
You distinctly note the past tense he used to answer your last question. You wonder what he means by that. He wasn’t looking for a relationship? Is he now?
Eddie, on the other hand, is wondering how you’d look in a wedding dress, all pretty and innocent in white. He damns Robin for putting those types of thoughts in his head, always talking about how he should have a wife by now. He feels smug at the thought of showing you off to her, his pretty little wife.
But then reality crashes back through and he’s thinking about that theoretical boyfriend that might not be so theoretical. Sure, you’ve been flirting with him pretty much this whole time, but he doesn’t know what the new generation gets up to. Maybe you and your boyfriend get off on cuckolding—he doesn’t know.
Only one way to find out.
“How ‘bout you?” His eyes narrow, copying yours as he nods at you.
“Oh, I just got here. I don’t think anybody’s calling my name,” you smirk, eyes teasing.
Do you want them to, he thinks.
His smirk matches yours as he tilts his head, noting how you dodged the question. He knows you understand what he was asking. You’re purposely being difficult, and he’s addicted to it. He wants to figure you out—wants you to make him work for it. You’ve already got a head start, and so far, he’s eating it up.
No modern porn or nudie magazines have ever thrilled him like you are in this moment—and he’s only known you for an hour and a half. Your voice is like an aphrodisiac in and of itself.
“You know what I was asking you,” he mutters.
You shiver at the way his voice seems to have dropped an octave.
“I’m browsing,” you flash a flirty smile at him, an innocent shrug lifting your bare shoulders.
-
Eddie walks with you over to the party, making the rounds and introducing you to all the neighbors, enjoying watching you socialize. Hanging around you during every idle chat, he picks up something new about you each time. Things like interests, hobbies, personal history, family life—all very important details that he’s storing in a mental file under your name. But most of all, he’s learning he wants you.
You’re so sweet and funny that your natural charm draws a crowd, leaving you constantly surrounded by at least five people at a time. Eddie stands close to you, listening to the stories you’re telling, your proximity like a drug, leaving him feeling woozy. He feels like you’re his—like he brought his new toy to school and all his friends are jealous.
He’s only had two beers, and he feels drunk on the way you crack a joke, get the crowd laughing, then turn to him to see if he, too, is laughing. He’s got a permanent smile etched into his face at the way you throw your head back when you laugh, the way you reach to hold his arm as you giggle. He almost flatlines when he sees you with the kids.
One of the Harrington kids—little Charlotte—comes running to hide behind your legs. She’s clearly avoiding her older brother in a game of tag that has migrated a little too close to the adults. Eddie already knows what’s happening—he’s seen it many times before.
The boys play rough with each other, Charlotte asks to join just because she wants to be included, they chase her down until she’s ‘it,’ and then they spend the rest of the time easily dodging her until she ends up crying to Steve or her mom.
Before Eddie has a chance to reprimand Cameron for nearly crashing into you as he tags Charlotte behind your legs, you’re already leaning down to the pouting girl, palm up, a devious smile on your pretty face. You let her tag you so you’re ‘it,’ and the minute her little palm slaps yours, you spin toward Cameron, who’s watching incredulously—because adults aren’t supposed to play.
You raise your brows at him, a shit-eating grin on your face as you shake your head. “You better run, kid.”
In a flash, the boy takes off and you’re flying after him. Eddie hears Charlotte’s giggles as Cameron screeches, “THAT’S NOT FAIR!”
He watches as you chase the boys around the yard—absolutely terrorizing them. In no time, you successfully tag Cameron, who groans dramatically. A shrieking laugh tumbles past your lips as you dart away from him, easily dodging his outstretched hand as you race around the playset. The other boys start yielding to you, calling for you to run with them. They’re probably feeling the coolness radiating from your every pore, he thinks.
A wide grin plastered over his face, Eddie wonders if it’s possible to love someone only hours after meeting them. His pondering is interrupted when Robin, Steve, and Jess sidle up beside him. They all watch as you side-shuffle, mirroring Cameron’s frustrated movements as he tries to tag you, the playset safely dividing you.
“I told you she’s hot.” Robin smugly punches Eddie’s shoulder, making him glare at her. But he can’t hold the glare for long; his eyes quickly return to you, a smile tugging at his lips.
“I like her, she’s funny,” Steve nods approvingly.
“I agree. Also, she helped avoid a meltdown. That’s wife material right there,” Jess adds, nodding toward the way you scoop up Charlotte and run away from Cameron with her in your arms, both of you giggling and shrieking.
Eddie had never once wanted kids. He always thought they were far too much work with not enough reward, fearing the inevitable screw-up that would lead to years of therapy in their adulthood. He was fond of the Harrington clan, but he was always glad to return to his clean, quiet home. But watching you with the kids—the way you engaged Charlotte, the way you navigated a surely ground-shaking tantrum with ease—left him in awe.
He always thought kids would be hard—and he knows they are, judging by the gray hairs on Steve’s head—but he can’t help thinking you’d make it look easy. Just like you made talking easy, joking easy, flirting easy, even moving heavy stuff easy—you made everything feel fun. He stands there watching you, imagining how you’d treat your own kids—the ones he hopes to help create.
Glancing beside him, he notes the way Jess is rubbing her pregnant belly over the sundress she’s wearing. He turns back to you, picturing how you’d look pregnant. How beautiful you’d look in a sundress—and maybe, just maybe, he could convince you to wear nothing underneath. His mind whirs as he imagines how distracting your growing breasts would be—not to mention your adorable bump. The thought makes him gulp—he’s starting to think he’s already in too deep. Maybe just a little.
-
As the sun sets, the pool water cools, prompting the kids to climb out, sleepy from the chlorine. The zombie-like children make the parents call it a night, thinning out the party crowd. Jess starts the nighttime routine for the Harrington clan—baths, showers, teeth brushing, storytime, and eventually, bedtime.
Steve grills a hotdog for you, since you missed the food earlier while you were moving in. Robin and Vickie are starting a fire in the pit Steve built, bickering over whether a log cabin style or a teepee style would be more efficient—and Eddie can hear every word.
He stands with you by the ice chest, dutifully playing the role of your shadow like he’s been doing all day. As he opens the cooler to grab another drink, he pauses, his hand hovering over the cans. Then he turns to you. “Can I get you a beer?”
You shake your head, a polite smile on your face. “No, thank you. Just water for me, please.”
He nods, grabbing a beer for himself and a bottle of water for you. Straightening up, he starts to hand over your drink—but a sudden, terrifying thought halts him. Just as he’s about to place the chilled bottle into your outstretched hand, he freezes, pulling it back. “You are old enough to drink, right?”
He looks like he’s holding your water hostage until you answer his question, the apparent fear on his face making you laugh. Flattered, you nod. “Yes, I’m old enough to drink. I’m just not a beer girl.”
A relieved breath escapes his lips at the confirmation. “Oh, thank god.”
You take the water he grants you, narrowing your eyes playfully at him as you watch him pop the cap off the bottle using the edge of the ice chest. “How old are you?”
Chuckling at your question, his eyes shine with mirth as they meet your playfully suspicious ones. “Older than that Metallica poster you have,” he quips, “I was at that tour.”
You smile at the mention of your poster—it’s one of your favorite vintage finds.
“Forty-three,” he concedes. “How old are you?” He tilts his chin down as he asks, eyes glued to your face.
The heat of his gaze makes you feel lightheaded. You decide to blame it on the summer sun, but your plan is foiled when you remember it’s nighttime.
Trying to regain some control, you ease the tension with a joke. “Well, a lady never tells, but I’ll give you a hint.”
He raises his brows expectantly, a pleasant smile on his face as he waits for the hint.
“It rhymes with twenty-seven.”
Eddie snorts at your setup and how plainly you answered it. He finds himself tilting his head, admiring you fondly. He’s addicted to everything about you—your humor, your flirting, the light touches you occasionally leave on his arms, the teasing glint in your eyes that never seems to fade.
No woman he met on the shitty dates Robin sent him on could ever compare to you. He’s never met anyone who could go toe-to-toe with him when it came to jokes and bits. It feels like he’s known you his whole life—and yet, he still finds himself wishing he’d met you sooner.
His thoughts are interrupted as Steve calls you over. He follows you as you grab a paper plate and accept the food from Steve.
“Thank you so much, Steve. I really appreciate you firing up the grill just for me.”
“It’s no problem, I’m glad you came to the party. You’re a really great addition to the group,” he smiles.
His comment makes your heart soar. The feeling of being accepted so quickly warms your soul. “It’s a great group,” you compliment.
His smile broadens, feeling proud of the circle of friends he’s kept over the years. All of a sudden he hears Robin’s loud, “Damn it!”
“Excuse me, I’m gonna go help the cavewomen create fire,” he quips, leaving you to head to the folding table where the condiments sit—right next to Eddie.
Eddie was one hundred percent eavesdropping on your conversation with Steve—and he’s glad he was, because it only makes him more certain that he was meant to meet you. That you were meant to be his.
You set your plate down on the table as you reach for the ketchup, glancing at Eddie as he watches your hands work. “I like the whole retired rocker look you got going on, by the way,” you say, vaguely gesturing to his whole body.
Eddie snorts at that. “Rocker? Yes. Retired? No.”
“Oh, so you have an active income then, huh?” You look at him, playfully interested like you’re sizing up a possible sugar daddy.
Your teasing makes him laugh, nodding his head. “Yeah, Head Mechanic at the garage off Piedmont. What about you?”
You smile, looking down as you close the cap to the ketchup. “Well, if you must know, my dowry is three goats and five sheep. Is that enough for you?”
Eddie feels like he smoked your teasing smirk and got high. He shakes his head fondly at your ability to make a joke out of anything. You’ve made him laugh more times today than he’s laughed in months.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m lookin’ for, actually.” His eyes twinkle with amusement.
“You know, I used to have a poster of Kirk Hammett on my wall in high school,” you muse, the memory of the faded poster making you smile. “I used to worship him. I thought he was the hottest guy I had ever seen… Now I’m not so sure.”
Eddie feels warmth flood his veins, all blood rushing south at the thought of you worshipping him instead.
He shakes his head in awe. “I wish you were around when I was in high school. Hawkins women weren’t exactly down with this look,” he looks down at his ripped black jeans, studded belt, and black band tee.
You lift the hot dog to your mouth, not biting into it just yet. “Oh, I’ll be all over you,” you say quietly, voice sultry as you maintain eye contact, finally opening your mouth and taking a big bite.
Your words, the tone you used, the eye contact, and the way you fit the phallic object into your mouth makes him huff out a sexually frustrated breath. He knows just what he’d prefer you have in your mouth right about now. You’ve been teasing him off and on all day and he’s pretty sure it’s driving him clinically insane. Though, in retrospect, his sanity walked out the door the second he laid his eyes on you.
You’re chewing your food with a closed mouth smile, admiring the internal struggle clearly displayed on his pale face.
The chipmunk cheeks you’re sporting aren’t helping Eddie’s attempt at regaining his sanity—if anything, they’ve got his mind spiraling, imagining how you’d look with his balls in your mouth.
He huffs out a breath, clinging to any shred of decency he can find. “D-Don’t you mean you ‘would have been?’”
You swallow, tongue running over your teeth, and a salacious look in your eyes as you plaster an innocent smile onto your face. “That’s what I said, didn’t I?” You feign confusion, as if you’re not hunting him—using your best ammunition to take him down.
Eddie gulps, his eyes never straying from yours, caught in a trance. “I live around here,” he says. “Just three doors down that way,” he throws a thumb over his shoulder pointing in the opposite direction of your new house.
You know exactly what he’s looking for.
Game, set, match. You win.
You smile, missing the sound of his voice when you push his buttons. “I also happen to live around here,” you coyly add, batting your lashes at him.
He sucks his teeth, eyes daring you to prolong this. “I have a bed.”
You nod your head at his rebuttal—plain and true. “Touché.”
In a matter of moments, he’s taking your plate from your hands, setting it down on the table, grabbing your now-free hand, and pulling you out of the backyard. Shouting a quick goodbye, he drags you past Steve, Robin, Vickie, and an exhausted Jess, who’s just now rejoining the group.
“Bye, guys! Thanks for everything, it’s been fun, we gotta do this again, okay, see you later!” It all comes out in one single breath, leaving the group shocked and confused.
You look back as Eddie pulls you away with such force you’re struggling to keep up with his long strides. “Thank you, guys!” You shout, waving at them with an apologetic look on your face.
“Use protection!” Steve yells before dissolving into a fit of laughter as Jess hits his shoulder.
The last thing they see is Eddie’s middle finger as the two of you disappear around the corner of the other neighbor’s house.
“And he said I wasn’t a credible source on who’s hot.” Robin shakes her head, feeling incredibly smug.
-
Eddie doesn’t let go of your hand even when he’s fishing into his pocket for his house key. He feels around for the right key on the split rings, pulling the set out once he finds it. Shoving the brass into the door, he moves to the side to let you in first.
Eager from the day-long wait, you can feel how wet your panties are already. The caveman-esque way he pulled you all the way home solidified your burning desire. You giggle at the silly bow he does, emphasizing the open door for you to walk through.
“How very honorable of you,” you tease.
He shuffles in after you, flicking on the foyer lights, quickly shutting the door and locking it. He’s not planning on leaving the house for the rest of the night and he’s hoping you won’t either.
“Yeah, that’s not gonna last,” he mutters darkly, pulling your arm and spinning you so your back is against the closed door. His hands hold both sides of your head as he pants out, “I’m planning to do some very dishonorable things to you.”
He smashes his lips against yours, a surprised moan escaping you at his desperation. Your open mouth gives him ample opportunity to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue inside causing a needy whimper to tear from your throat. Your knees buckle when his hands slide down the sides of your neck. Before you can drop, he quickly slots his knee between your legs, his body pressing you into the door even more.
Breaking away, he huffs out desperate breaths. Your head feels hazy, eyes glazed over. You feel like you got high from just one kiss—and what a kiss it was.
“Do you want this as much as I do?”
The question is breathy and low. He’s nuzzling his nose with yours, teasing you with an almost-kiss as he waits for your response.
The pull to his lips is so bewitching you can’t speak, only nod as your head bobs closer to sealing the kiss. Something stops you from completing it, like you’re waiting for him to do it. You’re waiting for his direction, his ‘okay.’
“Use your words,” he chastises you.
You whimper, shrinking at his intensity. Subconsciously, you lower your hip, attempting to relieve some tension against his leg.
When he feels what you’re doing, he straightens up, pulling his leg away despite your desperate whimper trying to call the sensation back. “Tell me, do you want me as much as I want you?”
“Yes! God, yes! Please,” you whine, needing him to touch you all over. You need his thigh back.
“Yeah, you wanted me right from the start, didn’t you, honey?” He tilts his head, hungry eyes roving over your pleading face. You practically preen at the delicate touch he dances across your cheek. Reaching to affectionately smooth the strands by your hairline, he waits for you to muster up the power to respond.
“Mhm.” Your eyes roll back as his rough hand travels from your hair to your jaw, holding you firm, pulling your attention back to him.
“Flirted with me so openly, didn’t you, dirty girl?”
A grin stretches across his face at the sudden embarrassment you show, mortified at being called out for your actions. You look so cute, squirming, trying to avoid his eyes, despite his strong grip on your jaw leaving you very little room to look elsewhere.
“I just wanted you…” you mutter, eyes not meeting his condescending gaze.
He’s pouting at you, mocking your embarrassment.
“Well, you got me, sweetheart. What did you wanna do with me?”
He leans in to nose his face against yours, hypnotically drawing your lips in again, but never granting you a kiss. No, kisses are for good girls who answer questions.
You shrug, any confidence you had from your earlier flirting is nonexistent—the power he holds over you is too great. He’s all-consuming. He’s everything you see, everything you feel, everything you smell, everything you hear, everything you taste.
“Can I tell you what I wanna do with you?”
Eagerly nodding, you’re thankful he let you off the hook with the question.
“I wanna marry you.”
His face is all you can see, not a doubt in his eyes, despite what he just said—no freudian slip to be found.
Your stomach drops, brows raising in shock. His words wake you right up out of your love drunk haze.
He should bottle that sentiment and sell it to single women. It would beat out the entire market for smelling salts.
Your eyes are wide, jaw dropped—you can’t believe what he just said. You just met him today and he’s apparently already sold on you. You have to admit, it is flattering to have a man want to marry you right after meeting you. Can’t say that’s ever happened to you before.
Shock aside, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same. Throughout the day, you had suffered daydreams of yearly summer barbecues, a king sized bed for two, cooking meals together, group dates with Steve, Jess, Robin, and Vickie. Afflicted with thoughts of pretty rings and curly haired, brown eyed children. But you shoved them down deep into a locked box, chaining the lid shut just in case.
Now, here Eddie is, pinning you against the front door of his house, kissing you breathless—picking the lock to the box filled with illicit fantasies
He reads the shock on your face, not swayed by the reaction in the slightest—he knows you’re meant to be his. He knows you won’t get married today, and maybe not tomorrow—but it will happen. There’s no way it won’t. He’s certain.
He doesn’t need your words, doesn’t want to hear what you stumble to say in response to his profession—so he doesn’t give you time to. No amount of obfuscation from you will convince him you’re not his.
“But in terms of right this moment,” he elaborates, “I’m gonna fuck you.”
Suffering from emotional whiplash, his words go straight to your pussy as you clench around nothing. You have no words, your jaw has not picked back up since he said he wants to marry you.
“Are you gonna let me fuck you?” He tilts his chin down, eyes trapping you in an obscene staring contest.
You nod, letting out a breathy, “Please.” The need for him is starting to drive you insane.
“Good,” is all he says before he picks you up bridal style and carries you up the stairs, grinning at you. You squeal in uneasy surprise at his actions, arms settling around his neck, holding on for dear life.
“I can walk, you know!”
You’re terrified he’s going to drop you, but you did see him do a bunch of manual labor today and you can’t lie, he is strong.
“Ladies shouldn’t have to walk,” he admonishes—the same tone as when he scolded you for trying to move your own boxes earlier. You shake your head at his endearingly incessant need to do things for you. “And hopefully you won’t be able to when I’m done with you.”
Scoffing at his dirty comment, you playfully hit his shoulder. “You know, for how much you talk about what ladies should and shouldn’t do, you certainly don’t talk to one properly.”
He grins as he sets you down onto his soft duvet, caging you in with his thick, tattooed forearms, leaning over you with leering eyes. “I can talk to you properly,” he admits, “or I can fuck you properly.”
Your breath stutters, eyes darting from his deadly gaze to his soft lips before ending back at his eyes.
He shrugs, lightheartedly, saying, “Your choice.”
Nodding with a bite to your lip, you breathily mutter “I’ll take option number two.”
With a smug grin, he leans down to give you a chaste kiss. “Thought so.”
He goes to pull away from the kiss, but you pull him back, languid tongue dancing across his bottom lip, begging for entrance. Your fingers inch into the mussed locks of hair as you messily make out. The bed dips as he kneels between your legs. Blindly reaching behind his head, you untangle the hair tie from his crazed curls, giving the roots a tug, earning you a lewd groan.
He breaks away to pull your tank top over your head. With a newfound fervor to see you naked, his own shirt follows suit. You sit up a little to help him peel the fabric off, opting to take your bra off while you’re up. He turns slightly to throw both tops to the corner of the room near the laundry basket. When he turns back around, his jaw drops at the sight of your bare breasts. You make him feel like a teeanger all over again, because he’s close to busting in his jeans at the alluring sight.
“Fuckkkk,” he groans, large hands groping your chest. “You have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen, baby. Been lookin’ at them all day.”
You moan at the rabid touch of his needy hands, the fire in your veins making you so sensitive to his every squeeze and grope. He pushes your breasts together, leaning down to attach his greedy mouth to one of your perked nipples. His lithe tongue circles the sensitive nub before giving it a light bite.
A borderline pornographic moan tears right from your throat. Mouthing at one nipple before moving onto the other one, his thumb toys with the wet peak.
When he nips at the second one, you instinctively tug his hair, eliciting a muffled groan, his mouth full of your tit.
You can feel how hard he is, his hips grinding into your thigh for relief. The imprint of his cock is making you impatient; you just want to feel him inside you now, want to feel every ridge and vein of. You moan at the nonstop attention to your peaked nipples. The overwhelming thought of how it’ll feel when his tip pierces your entrance and the relief that will wash over you leads you to pull his head off your chest.
When his eyes meet yours, you melt at the fucked out look on his face. It almost looks like he was getting off just from sucking on your tits. You admire the string of saliva connecting his wet lips to your chest. The sight of his slobber on your breasts, the blooming of accidental hickies on the sensitive skin makes you whine.
“Eddie, please. I need you.”
He nods, immediately working down your body, kissing and licking every square inch of skin.
His hands are shaky with need as he unbuttons your shorts, working them down your legs. He moves to kiss your thighs, assessing exactly where he’s going to leave bite marks when you put your hands on his shoulders, effectively halting his movements. He looks up at you, concerned he did something wrong already.
Your brow furrows; you know what he wants, but you don’t think this is the right time. “Eddie, I’ve been in the hot sun all day…”
He doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. He’s trying to read your face because he doesn’t understand why you’re bringing that up. So was he. He was with you—all day. Are you just saying true facts about your day? He doesn’t think now is the time to do that, but if that’s what you want to do he’ll oblige. Weird foreplay, but to each their own, he thinks.
“I cheated at cornhole,” he admits earnestly.
You frown at him—what the fuck is he talking about? He looks so genuine, it makes huff out a confused laugh. “What?”
Okay, now he’s very confused. His arms are still resting on your doughy thighs, elbows just outside both of your legs, leaning his full weight onto the bed. “What what?”
You shake your head at him, an amused look overtaking your face. “I just mean I got kinda sweaty playing tag with the kids…” You look at him, hoping he gets it, but when you see zero recognition in his eyes, you continue. “I don’t think now is the time for you to—” You can’t bring yourself to say it, embarrassment warming your face.
Thankfully, Eddie finally catches on. He’s relieved you’re not actually into the weird foreplay of revealing truths because he doesn’t want to tell you about the boner he got from watching you eat a hotdog. That would be mortifying.
“Oh! No,” he waves a dismissive hand, “honey, that's what I like to call seasoning.” He grins salaciously, leaning towards you.
His wandering fingers inch under the elastic at the top of your hips, preparing to pull your panties down, but you stop him again.
“But I’m not—”
A huffing breath leaves your lips. You’re frustrated. Not at his actions, no, but at the feeling of having to preface this in the case that he pulls your panties down and hates what he sees—or god forbid, tastes. “I’m not…trimmed…or anything.”
He looks at you like you just told him the most ridiculously stupid thing ever. He shakes his head, a frown clear and present in his eyes and on his face.
“Baby, I was around in the 70s,” he implores. “I might not have been sexually active then, but I was still stealing my uncle’s nudie magazines. I’ve seen a few things—explored a few jungles in my time.” A dirty smile creeps up his lips.
You roll your eyes at his crass terminology, feeling a pinch to your heart at the thought of him with other women.
“I earned my forestry badge, okay? So let me in there!” His eyes are shining with amusement, enjoying the cringe his words bring you. You’ll get used to how nasty he can be. It’s only down from here—he was on his best behavior today. He resumes his efforts to remove the last barrier between him and your needy core, but you try to speak up again.
“Eddie—”
“If you try to make up another excuse to keep me from this pretty little pussy, I will gag you with your own panties.”
His stern voice cuts you off, eyes dangerous as he reprimands you. You immediately close your mouth, wide-eyed, giving him your full attention now.
“I don’t know what boys you’ve been fucking, but only a real man deserves such a perfect cunt, and I’m Him. You understand me?”
His confidence makes even more arousal flood your already damp panties. You’re about ready to let him do anything he wants to your body.
You nod quickly, granting him access. Your breath hitched as he yanks your underwear off before stuffing them into his back pocket. He rubs his face against your thighs and you shiver at the scratchy stubble. Your pussy’s pumping out slick like it knows Eddie’s huge, sure to give you all the natural lube it can for when he fucks you.
He nuzzles into the wiry curls on your mound, your breath catches when you feel a suck of air, realizing he just took a deep whiff. You’re too turned on at this point to be embarrassed, your arousal is dripping from your needy hole, you feel like you’ll die if he doesn’t touch you in the next five seconds. When he noses the hair guarding your slit, a lock of long, brown, curls fall in front of him.
He lets go of your thighs to reach for your hands, pulling them into his hair, making you hold the curls into a makeshift ponytail that will double as a rein. If you had known he’d be going down on you you wouldn’t have taken his bun out, but it’s too late now, you have no idea where the hair tie is.
When your hands are securely in his hair he takes one arm and wraps it around your thigh from underneath, guiding your leg over his shoulder and holding it hostage. He takes the other hand and rests his arm lightly on your pelvis to part your pussy lips from above, he leans in to give a long lick with a flat tongue, just getting a taste for you. He moans at the flavor, you have no idea just how much he doesn’t care that you were out in the sun sweating all day. He feels like he could cum just from the tangy taste dancing on his tongue.
You moan at the feel of the wet muscle, it feels like you can finally breathe when he explores your folds. You’ve wanted him all day, burned for him for hours on end, and just like a cool drink of water- he’s quenching your thirst.
He gives quick flutter licks to your hole, just teasing you to get a reaction. It doesn’t disappoint, you’re whining, hips gyrating with need. He alternates between light pressured licks to your clit and plunging his tongue as deep as he can into your tight hole. He’s got you breathing heavy in no time, his fingers squeeze the fat of your thighs as he grinds his pulsing cock into the bed. You let out a pathetic mewl when he speeds up his actions, licking you like you’re ice cream, your hips occasionally jump when his nose catches your clit.
You can feel your hole clenching around nothing, needing just a little more to get you there, the dull ache building in your stomach. “M-More, please, I need more,” you cry out.
He’s more than happy to oblige, the hand that had been spreading your lips moves under his body, you feel a thick finger breach your entrance and it makes your hips jump and stomach clench. The sound of your moans and his dexterous fingers plunging into your drenched cunt fill the room. It makes him groan, the vibrations from it causing you to whimper.
“Oh p-please, oh god, I’m so close, please Eddie,” you whine, bucking your hips against his face.
He thrusts his finger in and out before adding another to stretch your tightening hole, you moan at the fit. He nods his head up and down on your pussy, licking messily, then he’s vigorously shaking his head side to side in your folds, slurping your juices up.
The lewd sound pushes you right to the precipice of your orgasm, “Eddieee!” The squeal you let out has him chuckling, you can’t help but interpret it as condescending and that only makes you clench tightly around his fingers, inching you even closer to your peak.
At the feeling of your walls tightening around his fingers he moves his tongue to make quick, tight circles around your clit causing you to tumble over the edge practically screaming. Seeing stars and desperate for nonstop pressure to work you through your climax, you shove his face against your pussy. You’re pressing hard, in need of all encompassing pleasure, in need of his cock inside your pulsing hole.
You’re basically grinding your cunt on his face and it has his hips jerking into the bed, wishing he was inside you already. The feel of your velvety walls squeezing his fingers in pulsing intervals has him moaning at the thought of you doing that around his cock. He can’t wait anymore, he pulls his fingers out once you come down from your high, shoving them into his mouth and relishing in the taste of your cum.
You’re too busy catching your breath, never having experienced such an all-consuming orgasm like that before. You feel like you’re floating when you feel him hover over you again, his hungry eyes looking borderline felonious the way they rove over your face. You look down between your bodies, noticing he’s fully naked now, hard, leaking cock hanging just above where you need him most.
You nearly gulp at the sight of him, he felt big when you felt him against your leg earlier, but this is a lot. He’s the biggest you’ve ever taken and you’re not sure if you can take him. The way his length bobs when he shuffles forward feels like a threat, you must look concerned because he leans down to give you a chaste kiss.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll make it fit,” he smoothes the hair by your temple, the soft actions and his dirty words make you preen, a whimper leaving your mouth.
“Do you want me to put on a condom?” He didn’t do it on the off chance that you’d let him inside you raw, the thoughts of you pregnant whispering in his mind. He’s being driven insane by visions of his cum leaking out of your stretched out hole, the sight of you carrying his child, the way he’d take you from the back as your big bump rests on the bed beneath your arched body.
Your eyes are wide, suddenly feeling like a virgin at the prospect of fitting all of him inside you. You’re certainly not, but he makes you feel so small, so taken care of, you feel like you need him bare inside you. You need to know what it feels like, you’ll worry about the consequences later. Famous last words.
You shake your head, pouting lips parted as you huff, all desperate and needy, your chest moves up and down, coaxing a nip from him. You mewl at the quick attention to your breasts.
He looks up at your face from your chest, “No?”
He got it the first time when you shook your head, but he’s having so much fun treating you like you’re glass. It's like you're his sweet, innocent baby—his cute little neighbor needing him to talk her through it. You shake your head again, confirming your previous sentiment.
“You want me to cum inside you, honey?” He coos, he can’t help the way he talks down to you, you make it so easy with your wet, pleading eyes. His question seems to work on you because you whimper, enthusiastically nodding your head, hands needy as you try to pull his body toward your open legs. He lets you pull him closer, but that’s about as much as he lets you do.
“Wanna feel you- please,” you whine at his resistance to get any closer, your nails dig into his sides as you try to pull him exactly where you need him most.
He chuckles at your pleading, his amusement quickly halts, though, when you reach between your bodies, hand encircling his rock hard cock, guiding it to your hole. He’s quick to grab your hands and pin them above your head, a stern reprimand leaving his lips, “Be good.”
You whimper again, rolling your hips against nothing, searching for release.
“I choose when I fuck you, got it?”
You nod your head vigorously, eager to please him after getting in trouble.
“That goes for after this, too, you understand?” He looks into your eyes expectantly, expression firm, his lips remain in a thin line.
“Yes, sir! Please- I’ll be good!” You beg, signing on to be his whenever he needs a release. You’ll be a ready, open hole, with pleasure. The ‘sir’ just slipped out, but you’re glad it did because he seemed to like it.
“You gonna let me fuck you raw,” your quick nod answering his question, “You want me to breed your tight little pussy, baby?” You let out an uncontrollable moan, you’d be embarrassed at how whorish you sound if you had any shame left.
“Please breed me, I want your cum, sir- please!” You cry out, rolling your hips again, seeking out his waiting cock.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, you’re pleading is breaking him down. He reaches for his cock, leaving both your wrists to remain pinned by his one hand. He guides the ruddy tip to your soaked, pulsing hole, rubbing up and down your slit, gathering all your wetness onto his cock. The movement earns him another moan that would put pornstars to shame, you’re thankful for the small relief it brings the coiling need in your stomach, but you crave more.
“You gonna let me put a baby in you, honey?”
Forget the fact that you just met him today, you’d sign onto anything he suggested as long as you get to do this with him again, as long as you get to hold him at the end of the day. It doesn’t hurt that these sweet nothings, well- dirty nothings, are feeding every fantasy you had today. Especially the one you had at the sight of him holding the littlest Harrington, the way his tattooed arms held the baby girl. His thick forearm a seat for the little bundle of joy, his large hands softly patting her back as he bounced and rocked her on his chest.
“Yes, please put a baby in me, Eddie! I need you- I just- please, god, please!” You’re bordering on incoherent at this point, it makes him smile, taking mercy on your fried brain.
He pushes the fat head of his cock past your entrance, the stretch is so tight you can feel where your walls cling to him once the mushroom tip pops inside you. You cry out at the feeling, desperately refraining from rolling your hips onto him, you don’t want him to take away what little he’s given you.
“Alright, honey,” he breathes out, trying to pace himself and not blow his huge load inside of you at just the tip, “I’ll give you a baby, but only because you begged for it.”
The moment the last word leaves his mouth he thrusts all the way into you, knocking the air out of your chest, your loudest moan yet rings out around the room. He groans at the way your gummy walls nearly choke his thick cock, his head falls beside yours as he breathes through the all-consuming feeling. The hand that isn’t holding your wrists trails up the side of your body, groping your tit as he tries to calm down.
When he’s certain he won’t cum too soon, he starts a bruising pace, muttering out curses at the way your moans sync with the pulsing of your pussy. “Fuck, honey, this the tightest cunt I’ve ever felt.”
You moan at his words, taking it as a compliment, mind reeling at the feel of every ridge, every bump, every throbbing vein of his massive cock. You’re letting out uncontrollable, ‘unh unh unh unh’s at the deep, penetrating thrusts he gives you, lips permanently parted at his intrusion.
The constant panting and moaning in his ear is pushing him nearly over the edge, he ravenously attacks your neck, tongue gliding over it, biting and kissing the sensitive skin. He knows he’s too close to stop now so he continues his punishing pace, reaching down with his free hand to rub your clit.
He circles your clit only once before you’re thrown off the edge of your second orgasm, your mouth is uncontrollable, you’re spewing the nastiest shit he’s ever heard and it gets him there.
“Fuck,” your voice is a high pitched whine, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck meee!”
“Please, god, OH!”
“Cum inside me, breed me, please, sir, please- fuck your fucking cum inside me unhhh!”
He groans, hips faltering as he jerks forward repeatedly. His stomach is clenching as he spills rope after thick rope of his milky white, hot cum into you.
You’re breathing hard, trying to catch your breath as he settles on top of you, shivering from the power of his orgasm. He’s never cum that hard before, he feels like his spirit has separated from his body, only vaguely aware of his throbbing cock still inside you. His hand loosens, letting your wrists go, your arms move to wrap him into a warm embrace. You pet his sweaty hair, your other hand lightly scratching his damp back.
When his spirit floats back down into his body he feels like he’s in heaven, the way you hold him like he’s so delicate, it’s such a contrast to the roles you both fell into earlier. His cock is softening and he can feel it slipping out of your used hole, it makes him gently pull away, allowing his cock to fall out of you fully. You watch him as he looks down at your messy pussy, he smiles at the way your hole clenches, the muscles still working through the power of your orgasm. The intermittent constriction of your walls pushes his cum out of you, he watches as it creeps down to your ass.
You gasp as you feel him collect his own spend, pushing it back into your quivering hole. When he removes his fingers, they’re covered in a mix between his cum and your juices, you grab his wrist and pull his fingers into your mouth. Moaning at the taste of the spunky combination, you stare him down with the heat of a thousand burning suns in your sultry eyes.
His mouth falls open as he watches you, his soft cock jumps at the view, in a flash he’s reaching under your ass, propping you up against his thighs. He’s got your hips angled up to the ceiling, you laugh at the sharp movement, loving how he manhandles you.
“What-”
“I wasn’t kidding before, I’m making this shit stick.” You realize he’s angled you so his cum won’t leave your pussy, it’ll just pool in your hole. He’s hoping to go one for one, but he has no problems trying again. You’re going to have his baby, he’s going to make sure of it. He meant it before, but after seeing you lick the mix of juices off his fingers he’s thinking about where the nearest ring shop is.
You laugh at the serious look in his eyes, biting your lip as you flirt, “Which one is it? What’s first, a baby or marriage?” You smile at his inability to figure out what he should do first, his words and thoughts contradicting himself throughout the night.
“Both,” he grins, leaning down to kiss you like it’s the last time. You know it isn’t
A/N: the way they didn’t use protection after Steve told them to, smh. Also, yes, she has his baby, yes, they get married, yes, he’s insatiable, yes, Steve and Robin make fun of him endlessly, yes, he gets called a cradlerobber and other things by them.
Like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed. Comments, especially, encourage me to get nastier wit it.
-> You meet Eddie at the police station your father works at. His reputation makes you worry. Soon, however, you find yourself in an entangled web of love and lust. Now, all you have to do is convince your father that Eddie isn't a bad guy.
Summary:After not seeing each other for months, you decide to surprise your boyfriend in the middle of his band's tour.
Warnings/Tags:+18 Explicit Content, smut, fluff, unprotected p in v sex, teasing, degrading nicknames, creampie, no use of a specific name, dry humping, no plot. Sorry if I missed something.
A/N:Well, this is the first time I've actually posted something of my own making. Hell, it's the first time I've written anything in general just because i feel inspired so, i hope you like it.
P.D:English isn't my first language so, I apologize if there are any mistakes. Credit to the people on Pinterest for the pics.
Three months. You haven´t seen him in three, long months.
With the band gaining more and more popularity by the minute, Eddie's schedule is overflowing with radio interviews, fan meetings and the tour around the country, which causes his calls to be scarce and with someone rushing him in the background. "Just a couple more weeks, baby. I have to go. Love ya." It was the last thing you heard before he hurriedly hung up the last call you two have a few days ago.
You would be lying if you said you weren't starting to get tired of the situation so, without thinking too much about it, you decided to surprise him and go see him at one of his shows.
The backstage of the arena was bustling with activity after the concert, between people gathering equipment and instruments and the screams of fans in the background. One of the attendants guided you through the long corridors to Eddie's dressing room, murmuring a soft, gentle "thank you" as he left you in front of a door.
You knocked softly a couple of times and a little smile spread across you face when you heard Eddie's muffled voice cursing anyone who dared to interrupt his precious rest time before he had to get back on the bus and head to the next city.
The door swung open, letting you see him for the first time in months. He looked exhausted. His long, curly hair was sweaty and slightly tousled, a fucked-up expression on his face and his eyes were still pumped with adrenaline from the concert.
"Surprise!" The tired expression on his face quickly turned into a mixture of surprise and excitement as he saw you.
"W-what the fuck?!" For a moment, he just stared at you as if trying to make sure you were really there. Once realization kicked in, he wasted no time dragging you into his arms.
You giggled as you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him back. "I take that as if you were happy to see me."
"Are you kidding?!" His grip on you tightened a bit. "It's been three goddamn months!" He pulled away just to get a better look at you. His eyes and hands roaming up and down your form. "Look at you..." A small sigh left his lips. "All pretty."
You chuckled softly. "You don´t look bad either. I like the fucked up vibe."
Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close again, burying his face in your neck. "...I missed you." He mumbled into your skin.
"I missed you too, Eds." He inhaled deeply, taking you in. God, he had missed you so much. Your scent, your voice...
"Why didn´t you tell me you were coming?" He asked with his face still buried in your neck.
"Then it wouldn´t have been a surprise." Eddie nipped the skin of your jaw playfully.
He pulled back to look at you again. His gaze was hungry as it roamed over your face. "How long are you staying?"
"I was thinking that maybe, i don´t know..." You shrugged as your hands ran slowly down his chest. "I could maybe stay for the rest of the tour." You stared at him with a playful smile.
A sly grin spread across his face as your words registered in his brain. "Well, aren´t I a lucky bastard?" And before you knew it, Eddie's lips were already on yours, technically devouring you with need and hunger.
A soft gasp left your mouth as one of your hands tangled in his messy curls. Eddie pressed you against a nearby wall, boxing you in with his body while one of his hands closed the door and made sure it was locked.
The kiss deepened, his tongue hungrily seeking entrance to your mouth. His hands moved to your thighs, picking you up and making you wrap your legs around his waist.
"Christ, I need you." He groaned against your lips. "Needed you so goddamn much."
He carried you across the dressing room and you let out a small chuckle when he threw you onto the leather material of a couch in the corner of the room.
He climbed on top of you, settling his body in between your thighs. His lips quickly found your neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses over your skin as his hands ran up your sides, pushing up the fabric of your shirt.
"No idea how i´m gonna last the rest of the tour with you here. I ain´t gonna be able to keep my hands off you for even a second..." He mumble against your skin.
Your Eddie´s band t-shirt was quickly discarded and thrown somewhere on the floor and he wasted no time in placing his mouth over your breasts when your bare chest was exposed.
He groaned against your skin, his hands running un and down your body. "Been craving you. Every damn night since a left..." His mouth trailing down, leaving a trail of soft kisses over your belly. "Can´t count the amount of times that i´d think about you... alone in that bunk... wishing it was you under me instead of some damn pillow."
"Eddie~..." A soft whine left your mouth as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your skirt, slowly pulling it down your legs along with your panties.
His eyes darkened as more of your body was exposed to his gaze. He let out a slow breath, taking in the sight of you laying beneath him.
"Look at you, all spread out for me." He drawled, his eyes roaming over every inch of you like a predator watching its prey before attacking. "So damn pretty." He said softly with ragged voice as his hands moved up your thighs. His touch rough yet tender.
Your hands moved almost desperately over his covered torso as the sound of his belt being unbuckled reached your ears.
He pushed his jeans down his thighs with impatient movements.
Eddie settled himself between your thighs again, his bare skin brushing against yours. "Miss you so goddamn much..." He whispered againts your lips as he slowly, teasingly press his length against your core.
You let out a small breath. He leaned down, kissing you deeply for a long moment before sliding his way through your wet folds.
Wasting no time, Eddie's hips quickly established a steady, rough rhythm. A string of soft gasps and whines flowed from your mouth as he fucked you like his life depended on it. Your hands gripped him tightly, digging your nails into his skin.
He groaned against your neck as his movements grew rougher and hungrier with each passing minute. "So damn good..." He grunted over your ear. His grip on your thighs would definitely leave marks. "Missed this..." His lips trailing over your jaw. " Missed this pussy so much." His words a mix of desperation and need.
"F-fuck..." You let out in a breathless gasp as your head gently fell back onto the leather of the couch.
He pulled back slightly, giving one of your breasts a firm squeeze before gently slapping your cheek with his calloused hand, making you whine for the sudden action. "Look at me." He commanded, his hand wrapping around your neck, forcing you to look at him.
Your eyes glued to him, staring at him with cloudy eyes and a fucked-up expression through your fluffy eyelashes.
His grip on your neck tightened a bit more, just enough to make you shudder. "So damn beatiful." He growl with rough voice as his eyes roamed over your face, taking in your expression. Something almost possessive in his gaze.
He leaned down, capturing your lips again in another rough, claiming kiss but the hated moment was interrupted by some hard knocks on the door.
"What?!" Eddie yelled angrily at the door, not stopping his brutal pace without caring that the person on the other side of the door could hear your moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin.
"On the bus in five..." Brad's voice (Eddie´s manager) could be heard muffled by the other side of the door.
Eddie let out a frustrated grunt as his movements slowing only slightly. "Yeah, yeah. Fuck, give me a damn minute." He leaned down close to your ear. "Guess I have to be quick then, huh?"
With that, Eddie placed your ankles over his shoulders and he leaned down, technically bending you in half as he resumed the rhythm of his thrusts.
"H-holy shit~..." You gasped, breathless as the position made him go deeper, if that was even possible. You could feel the air being pushed out of your lungs.
Eddie grunted as he held you tight, eyes fixed on your face. He was a man on a damn mission now, determined to get you there. "You like that, huh? You like it, little slut?"
You could only whine as your mouth loosened and your eyes rolled back, starting to feel dumb.
He could feel your walls tighten around him and his eyes darkening in response. Goddamn, he was so close.
"Yeah, you like it." His voice was rough, almost like a growl. "You like being my little, fuck toy."
"E-eddie..." I warned, feeling that familiar knot forming at the base of my stomach.
He chuckled low and gruff. "Yeah? You gonna come for me?" He asked, his hips snapping against yours harder. "You gonna be a good little whore and come for me?" You could only nod slightly, feeling closer and closer to exploding.
"Come for me, baby." His breath hot against your ear. "Be good and let me feel you. C´mon, come for me." He was getting close too, but he needed to see you fall apart first.
A couple more hard thrusts were enough to make your body shudder. Your back arched off the couch as you reached your peak with breathless sobs. Eddie's thrusts became sloppy, feeling your spongy walls suck him in as he desperately tried to reach his own peak.
He groaned and panted softly against your neck when he spills his warm cum on you, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. You two stayed like that for a bit, trying to regain your breaths.
Then, he lifted his head to look at your face, gently brushing his thumb over your cheek. "You good there, sweetheart?"
"Never better..." You answered, staring at him with a little, dumb smile over your face.
He chuckled softly, a small satisfied smirk spreading over his face. Eddie slowly pulled out of you. "Damn..." He let out a sigh. "I really needed that." He mumbled, his fingers slowly tracing small circles over your bare hip.
You hummed, nodding slightly. Your hands ran over his chest. "...I really miss you at home, Eds."
His expression softened slightly at your words. "I miss you too, sweetheart." It was his turn to confess. "I miss waking up with you every morning... you walking around the house on nothing but my shirt... the movie nights. Fuck, i even miss arguing with you." You let out a soft giggle at his words. "The tour´s almost over, though. Two more weeks and then, i´m all yours, baby." He pressed a soft kiss over your jaw.
"That´s what you said, but i bet you don´t even think about me with all those groupies over at you all the time."
He raised an eyebrow at the clearly hint of jealousy in your voice. "What? Don´t tell me your jealous?"
You snorted at his accusation. "No..." You stared at him. " Should i?"
He smirked, shaking his head slightly. "You know you don't have to worry about anything. Trust me." He placed another tender kiss, this time over your cheek. "It's always been just you." Then, he quickly added. "And maybe my hand sometimes, but that's it."
You chuckled softly at his words, frowning slightly and muttering a soft "gross."
Eddie´s gaze darkened slightly and his tone turn possessive. "Plus, they don´t get to see me the way you do. They don´t get to touch me the way you know a like... They don´t get to be the one in my bed at the end of the day." He left a little kiss over your lips.
"...It's just good to hear it once in a while, you know?" You mumbled against his lips.
He pinched your hip, a playful glint on his eyes. "I love you. You know that, right?"
You nodded slightly. A small, sweet smile over your lips. "...I know." Then, your lips met again.
"...We should head out, though." You murmured between kisses. "Before Brad´s forehead vein pops out..." You joked. "We can catch up later on the bus."
Eddie smirked as he get off of you just to arrange his clothes and let you get dressed. "You bet." He said with a teasing tone. "I'll have you glued to my hip for the next two weeks, showing me exactly how much you missed me." He pulled his jeans back up, buttoning them.
A soft chuckle left your mouth.
Maybe it wasn't so bad that Eddie was away for so long. Moments like this made it all worth it.
Pretty good for my first time, isn´t? Anyway, bye. XOXO
Older scruffier trailer trash Eddie that takes care of younger Steve while running some illegal businesses. I saw the new Hoard trailer and this sort of happened ?? My brain has been melting ever since.
Innocent reader x steddie. They have been hooking up for a while now but both boys want to see if they can make reader squirt (not that she even knows what it is) maybe they all drive out to the woods in Eddies van and get a bit high in the backseat together when they both propose the idea to try something new.
⁀➷ Splash Zone // Steddie x F!Reader
Summary: They warned you it might get messy. Steve said it soft, Eddie said it with a grin, and before you know it, you're gasping on your back while they do everything they can to see what your body’s really capable of.
Requested by: I just loved this request, thank you so much for sending it!
The drive out to the woods starts like it always does, with Eddie’s blaring metal music rattling the speakers, Steve’s eye-rolls, and your legs tucked between both of them in the back of the van, the mattress beneath you still warm from the sun.
You’re already a little floaty from the blunt Eddie passed around, giggling quietly as Steve tosses his arm over your shoulders and presses a kiss to your temple. His palm is warm against your thigh, fingers absently brushing the hem of your skirt.
Eddie is lounging across from you, legs sprawled, watching the two of you with a lazy grin. “Oh, I’ve just remembered! Steve, do you remember that idea we had in mind?” he says, voice raspy from smoking.
You blink at him, brows furrowed, leaning into Steve’s arms. “Oh no, that can’t be any good.”
Steve snorts, capturing your attention, “Firstly, it’s nothing to worry about, Baby. We were just discussing it earlier and wanted to ask something.”
You tilt your head, curious. “Ask what?”
Eddie shifts, sliding onto his knees, his ringed fingers finding your ankle and stroking absent circles into your skin. “Have you ever squirted before, angel?”
Your confusion deepens, “What’s that?”
Steve laughs softly, causing you to rock on the spot, “If you have to ask, you probably haven’t. But that’s okay.”
Eddie hums, a smile on his face. “It’s just something that women’s bodies can do. It’s a little messy, but it can be fun. We were thinking maybe we could try to make it happen, together.”
Your stomach flutters with nerves, “It’s not going to hurt, is it?”
“Oh, baby, no,” Steve reassures, the arm around your shoulder tightening. “Never. We’ll stop the second anything doesn’t feel good.”
“And it’s not like a goal,” Eddie adds, voice softer now as his fingers move over to cup your knees. “Just something we thought might be fun. If you say no, we’ll just get high and make out all night.”
You chew your lip, glancing between them. Both boys are watching you with that mix of affection and barely restrained heat, their touches slow and gentle, waiting for your answer.
You nod shyly, “Okay. We can try.”
Their grins grow. The air is thickening with hazy tension as both of their attentions are entirely on you.
Steve leans in first, his honeyed eyes locked on yours, strands of hair falling casually over his forehead. His hand cups your jaw as he kisses you, warm and slow, and you feel the smile tugging at his lips when you sigh against his mouth. He tastes like mint and weed, and his palm slips down to rest on your thigh again, stroking absently.
You feel Eddie move behind you, pressing in closer until his chest is warm against your back, arms circling your waist. His rings are cold where they brush your stomach, but the rest of him radiates heat, the lather jacket shrugged off, curls wild and loose, eyes hooded as he nuzzles into your neck.
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, you know that?” he remarked against your skin, his breath making you shiver. “Bet we can get you to make the prettiest mess, too.”
You squawk a little at that, hiding your face in Steve’s shoulder. He laughs lightly, fingers sliding higher under your skirt. “Let’s just get you comfy first,” Steve says, shifting you to lie back against a pile of blankets, your legs bent and parted between them.
Steve takes your right thigh and massages slowly, up and down, the muscle relaxing beneath his strong hands. Eddie’s at your left side, kissing your shoulder as his fingers ghost long your left inner thigh, silver rings cold and teasing.
You’re soaked already, panties sticky against your pussy lips, and when Steve slips them down your legs and off completely, both boys groan.
“Look at that,” Eddie praises, amazed, brushing his thumb lightly along your slit. “She’s soaked, Stevie.”
Steve hums. “And we haven’t even started yet.”
They begin slowly with Steve’s fingers rubbing soft, steady circles into your clit while Eddie kisses you deeply, tongue tangling with yours. The rhythm is lazy and patient. You moan quietly, a shiver pulsing throughout your body, hips twitching up into Steve’s hand.
Eddie grins against your lips. “Already so sensitive, sweetheart.”
“I can’t help it,” you breathe, eyes fluttering closed.
Steve leans in, kissing your knee. “Don’t hold back, just let it feel good, let it happen.”
You’re not sure when Eddie starts fingering you, but suddenly there’s a thick finger pushing in deep, just one at first, and your back arches at the intrusion. He curls it just right, slow and purposeful, searching.
“That’s it,” Eddie says in an encouraging tone, watching your face. “You feel that?”
You nod rapidly, mouth falling open. “Feels so good.”
Steve presses kisses along your inner thigh whilst his fingers stay circling your clit, never letting up. Eddie adds a second finger, and that’s when it happens.
A sharp pressure builds, tight and strange and too much, and then, with a sudden gosh, something bursts out of you. It’s not an orgasm or particularly pleasurable, really. It’s just wetness. A dribble at first, spraying lightly across Eddie’s rings nd wrist, and then another sharp pulse that leaves a streak down your thigh and onto the blanket beneath you.
You freeze. “Wha-What was that?!”
Steve's eyes are wide, “Holy shit!”
Eddie just stares for a second, then grins until the dimples deepen in his cheeks. “You squirted, sweetheart.”
“I- I did?” Your cheeks burn. “I didn’t even orgasm, though.”
“You don’t have to,” Steve says, still in awe. He runs his fingers through the little mess on your inner thigh and brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean. “It just means you’re so sensitive, baby. Fuck, you taste so good.”
Eddie snickers, licking his fingers too. “This was just a preview, angel”
You bury your face in your hands, whining. “Why is this so embarrassing?”
“It’s not embarrassing, it’s beautiful,” Steve reassures positively, leaning in to pull your hands away from your face.
Eddie wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, “Holy fuck, I knew you were hiding something special.”
You’re still squirming, overwhelmed by the rush of whatever just happened, cheeks burning as Steve pulls your panties entirely off and tosses them over his shoulder.
“Think that was just the beginning,” Steve admits, kissing your forehead again. “Bet we can make a real mess.”
Eddie smirks. “What do you say, Stevie? Want to take her outside?”
Your eyes go wide. “Wait, outside?”
Steve’s already grinning, arms sliding beneath your back to lift you as Eddie props the van doors open wide, letting in the scent of pine and cool summer air. “Nnot all the way,” he says, cocking his head like it’s the most innocent idea in the world. “Just right on the edge.”
They touch you so gently, so excited and eager, and the look in their eyes makes you feel like something special. So you let them guide you, bare and trembling, to the edge of the van.
They position you with your ass right at the lip of the van, your legs bent back at the knees, Steve holding them up, strong arms cradling you beneath the thighs, whilst Eddie kneels on the ground, curls wild, fingers already slick from your earlier dribble.
He looks up at you like he’s praying. “You ready, sweetheart?”
You nod slowly, breath shaking. “I think so.”
Steve kisses your ankle, “good girl.”
Eddie fingers slide back inside, two, then three, stretching you wide and curling deep. It’s immediate, like your body remembers what just happened. That too-much feeling slams into you again, but faster this time.
You mewl, fingers digging into Steve’s arms as he continues to hold your legs open.
“Shh,” Steve coos, “you’re okay, you’re doing so good for us.”
Eddie hums, watching your pussy with greedy eyes as his fingers work fast and deep, twisting just right. “She’s close, Steve. I can feel it, she’s gonna fucking gush-”
And then it hurts. A violent pulse rips through you, and before you can think or hold back the sensation, there’s a loud squelch and a sharp spray. Clear liquor squirts from between your legs, hitting Eddie right in the chest and dropping down his open shirt.
“FUCK!” he laughs, grinning wildly. “Fucking hell, sweetheart!”
Steve laughs too, tightening his grip on your shaking legs as more gushes out, a thick stream that splashes across Eddie’s stomach, some of it mist-spraying down onto the forest floor right outside the van.
“Oh my god,” Steve mutters, staring like he's never seen anything so hot before. “You’re soaked. She’s soaking everything.”
You cry out, high-pitched and helpless, not even sure if you came, but the relief of it makes your body go limp, trembling with aftershocks.
“Don’t stop,” Eddie growls, tossing his shirt off like it’s offending him, hair falling wild across his shoulders. “We’re not done. I want to see her do it again.”
You try to speak, try to have a breath, but Steve just leans over, kissing any body part that he can reach, “You can take it, baby.”
Eddie leans back in, fingers already thrusting again, his free hand spreading you open to watch the way your pussy clenches around him. “You’re so pretty when you make a mess. So fucking pretty,” he groans.
The overstimulation hits fast, your whole body twitching, thighs trying to close, but Steve keeps them open, rocking you gently.
And then it happens again. You squirt hard, this time a sharp stream that splashes across Eddie’s jeans and down the van bumper. He just moans, louder this time.
Steve’s voice is tight. “Fuck, I'm gonna lose my mind.”
You try to close your legs again, overwhelmed, babbling something incoherent, but they don’t stop, not yet.”
“Just one more, baby,” Steve says softly, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “One more, and then we’ll give you what you want.”
Your eyes flutter open. “W-what I want?”
Eddie chuckles, slowing down slightly. “Yeah, sweet girl. What do you want?”
You blink, dazed and ruined, voice barely a whimper. “Want you both to cum inside me.”
They growl in unison. Steve curses under his breath, and Eddie looks like he might burst.
“Fuck,” Steve says, letting your legs down gently and crawling between them until he’s standing next to Eddie in the forest. “You’re gonna kill me, baby.”
Steve begins to undo his belt, sliding his zipper down, pushing his jeans and boxers to mid-thigh. He slides in first, thick and slow, your cunt sucking him in with a squelch so wet it echoes amongst the forest.
“Oh fuck,” he groans, head dropping to your shoulder. “You’re so wet, baby. Can't believe how wet you are, it’s everywhere.”
Eddie’s beside you, kissing your temple, watching you with something like love and awe as Steve starts to move, shallow thrusts that get deeper and harder with each slide, his cock hitting that spongey spot inside you just right.
You moan weakly, fingers clutching his shirt, “s’too much.”
“No, it’s not,” Steve breaths, stroking a hand down your sternum. “You’re taking it so well, baby. You’re fucking perfect.”
Then he pulls out. You whimper at the loss and the shriek when Eddie slips two fingers back inside, fast and rough, curling like he’s searching for gold.
Your whole body jerks, and then you squirt again. It gushes around his wrist, a hot spray that drips down the side of the ban, pooling at the base of the open doors. Eddie laughs, low and amazed, “There she goes.”
Steve strokes himself, watching it with wide, worshipful eyes. “Holy shit, she’s like a fountain.”
They said one more time, but really, they wanted to see just how far you could go. They keep switching. It’s overwhelming, Steve fucking you deep, then pulling out just in time for Eddie to shove his fingers back in and milk more squirts from your twitching pussy.
The rhythm is brutal, relentless. Fuck, pull out, fingers, squirt, repeat, until your whole body is soaked, trembling with overstimulation.
Your eyes are glassy, your mouth open in a silent moan, sweat and tears coating your cheeks. “Can’t take it-” you whimper.
Eddie kisses your forehead, gentle now. “You're done, baby. You did so well for us.”
Steve gathers you close, kissing your jaw. “So fucking good, angel. Time to fill you up, yeah? Just lie back and let us take care of you.”
They move you like fragile, pulling you deeper into the van, wrapping you in soft blankets, laying you flat while they both settle between your legs, hard cocks pressing against your messy, dripping entrance.
Steve goes first, pushing in again, this time slower and softer. His hips roll gently, just a steady grind as he bottoms out and stays there, so deep inside.
“Gonna fill you up so good, baby,” he whispers, stroking your cheek. “Gonna make you feel so full.”
Eddie kisses your chest, your neck, your temple. “You want it, sweet girl? Want him to cum inside you?”
You nod, barely able to speak, eyes fluttering shut. “Please…”
Steve fucks you with slow, sweet thrusts. No rush, just deep, comforting rolls of his hips, letting you feel every inch. Eddie strokes your clit in lazy circles, soft touches just enough to make you tremble again.
And then, with a low groan, Steve buries himself fully and cums. Hot and thick seed, coating the inside of your cunt.
Eddie’s next, guiding himself in beside Steve’s cum, fucking into the slick mess and moaning at how good it feels. “Good make you leak, angel,” he pants. “So full, so pretty- fuck, take it, take all of it-”
He cums hard, hips stuttering, spilling deep until there’s so much cum inside you it seeps out around his cock, dripping slowly down your thighs.
You’re done. Not even fuck out, just floating. Eyes heavy, body limp, face buried in Steve’s shirt as Eddie pulls out gently, both boys whispering praise in your ears.
“So perfect,” Steve admires, stoking a hand over your body.
“You did so fucking good, sweetheart,” Eddie says, already wrapping you up in an oversized hoodie. “Out sweet little mess.”
They bundle you in blankets, settle you between them in the van, each boy curled against you with their arms around your trembling frame. Their cum still leaks slowly from your cnt, warm and wet.
You smile softly, half asleep, nuzzling into Steve’s chest. “Feel full,” you mumble.
They both laugh, quietly and in love. “That's cause you are, sweetheart.”
omg watch @/emilyromann first pinned tiktok vid and tell me it doesn't give rockstar!eddie and nb vibes omfg
this video has not left my mind lmao.
it gives rockstar!eddie and nb so much but hear me out, that it also gives a little bit of dom!eddie and maybe even bouncer!eddie.
like at the hideout, he's playing and they're all a little drunk, and you're telling me you can't see brat or bartender reader feeling a little tipsy and silly and getting pulled on stage and putting on a show?? pleaseeeeeeeeee.
Two can play (but three's more fun) | Steve Harrington x reader x Eddie Munson
stranger things masterlist / inbox
summary: when Steve catches Eddie staring a little too long at his girlfriend, he doesn’t throw a punch—he extends an invitation. And as Eddie quickly learns, Steve doesn’t just share; he teaches, with slow, filthy demonstrations.
word count: 5.2k
tags / content warnings: smut, just pure filth really, posessive steve, desperate eddie, a lot of swearing, I couldn't help it, maybe some repetitive words but smut vocabulary just has it's limits
a/n: I got insanely stoned and wrote this so if it came out too horny i'm sorry, also im ovulating oops. I've prolly been very inconsistent with grammar tenses but I can't be bothered to check it. I usually correct my grammar after i've already posted so the masterlist link has significantly less errors than earlier versions
The living room was bathed in the flickering glow of the TV, some forgotten horror movie playing on low volume—The Thing, maybe, or was it Halloween?—its eerie soundtrack warping under the weight of the thick, sweet-smelling haze curling through the air.
Eddie had outdone himself with this new strain, something sticky and potent that left his limbs heavy and his usual sharp edges dulled into something languid and warm, his thoughts perhaps a bit too syrupy.
“—I know I talk a big game, man, but fuck. I have no clue what I’m doing when it actually comes down to it.”
His voice was a low mumble, words slipping out like he hadn’t meant to say them at all. He tipped his head back against the couch cushions, staring at the ceiling as if it might hold answers.
Steve blinks at him, slow and rhythmically, before snorting. “What, like… at all?”
“Yeah, man. Like—” Eddie waves a hand vaguely, the silver of his rings glinting as he moves. “How the fuck am I supposed to know what sounds are real and which ones are fake? It’s fucking Russian roulette.”
The next reaction from Steve is immediate, no hesitation. Just a lazy, knowing smirk as he stretches his arms behind his head. “Huh. Well, once you know the difference, it becomes pretty obvious.” He pauses, just long enough to take a quick glance over Eddie’s face. “If you really need some pointers, I can ask my girlfriend if she wants to help you out.”
Eddie nearly comes crashing to the fucking floor.
Because fuck. He’s had a crush on you for, like, forever. Not that he’s ever admitted it out loud — not when Steve Harrington has a reputation for rearranging the faces of guys who so much as look at you wrong. Eddie has seen it happen: some poor asshole at a party, fingers skimming your ass as you passed, and bam — Steve’s fist in his jaw before anyone could blink. There’s even a rumour some other idiot once stared just a little too long at the way your lips wrapped around the neck of your beer bottle and then slurred, “Wanna spin the bottle?” Word is, Steve dropped him in one hit. No warning. No theatrics. Just pure, primal instinct.
So yeah, Eddie’s kept his mouth shut.
But now? Now Steve is watching him with this lazy, half-lidded expression, like he hadn’t just detonated a goddamn bomb in Eddie’s head.
“You’re fucking with me.” Eddie pleads, his voice rough.
Steve just grins — slow, deliberate — his eyes dark with something Eddie can't name. “Nah, man. She’s actually really into that kinda stuff.” His voice drops, gravel scraping over each word, and Eddie’s stomach flips “And I’d do anything for her.”
The air feels thick as Eddie’s pulse roars in his ears, his throat suddenly bone-dry. Was this a test? A trap? Christ. Harrington was going to be the death of him, and worse—Eddie knew he’d fucking thank him for it.
His fingers twitch at his sides. “...Yeah?”
Steve’s smile only widens, but his eyes soften. “Yeah.”
When Eddie shows up at your place the next night, he’s strung tight enough to power Hawkins twice over, his pulse hammering in his throat. He’s spent the last twenty-four hours convincing himself he’d imagined the whole conversation, that there was no way Steve Harrington just offered—
And then you open the door.
Dressed in nothing but one of Steve’s old band tees, the fabric riding high on your thighs, you greet him with a smile that damn near stops his heart. “Hey, Eddie.”
His mouth goes dry. And before he can choke out a response, Steve is behind you, hands sliding possessively around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. And then — Jesus Christ.
The kiss Steve gives you isn’t just heated — it’s filthy. All tongue and teeth, your fingers twisting in his hair as he backs you against the doorframe, his hands already under your shirt like it’s a regular Tuesday afternoon.
Eddie’s knees nearly give out.
“Watch,” Steve murmurs against your lips when he finally breaks away, his gaze flicking to Eddie over your shoulder. His voice dark and commanding. “And pay attention.”
Then, right there in the doorway, Steve pulls the shirt over your head — meticulously slow, like he wants Eddie to memorise every second. And, well — Eddie does.
He memorises the way your breath hitches when Steve’s fingers brush over your ribs, the way you arch into his touch, the soft, real sounds spilling from your lips as Steve’s mouth finds the top of your breasts—
Eddie’s throat protests as he swallows, fingers twitching at his sides like he can’t decide whether to bolt or drop to his knees.
Steve notices —of course he does— and his lips curl into something dangerously close to a challenge. “You just going to stand there, Munson?” His hands slide down your hips, squeezing just hard enough to make you softly gasp. “Thought you wanted to learn.” Eddie manages to get control over his brain just long enough to answer “I— Yeah. Fuck. Yeah. I do.”
Steve hums, pleased, and spins you around to face Eddie fully, his palm splayed possessively over your stomach. “Then get over here.”
It’s not a request.
Eddie moves like a man in a trance, close enough now to feel the heat of your skin, to catch the intoxicating scent of your perfume. His gaze darts between your face and Steve’s fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over your collarbone.
“First lesson,” Steve murmurs, leaning in to nip at your earlobe. “Don’t just touch. Listen.” His free hand reaches out, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and dragging it toward you. “Feel how she reacts.”
Eddie’s fingertips brush your waist—hesitant at first, then firmer when you shiver under his touch. His breath hitches as you lean into him, lashes fluttering when his thumb grazes the delicate curve of your ribs.
“Good.” Steve’s voice is low, eyes locked on Eddie’s every twitch. “Now kiss her.”
Eddie’s head jerks up. “What?”
Steve’s grin is all teeth. “Unless you don’t—”
“No, I—fuck.” He surges forward, crashing his mouth against yours like a man starved. It’s messy and desperate, and he barely gets a taste before Steve yanks you back by the waist, eyebrows furrowed in disapproval.
“Jesus Christ. Not like that.”
Eddie stumbles after you as Steve kicks the door shut behind them. “It’s like you were raised by wolves.”
Eddie opens his mouth to protest—then snaps it shut. Because Steve’s right. He’s a wreck.
“What are you waiting for, a written invitation?” Steve’s voice is rough with impatience. “Kiss her again.”
Eddie hesitates—just for a second—before lust wins the war. This time, when his lips find yours, it’s still hungry, but it’s also aware, his movements more controlled. For a heartbeat, he’s terrified Steve will deem him unworthy of you altogether and kick him back to the curb—until you moan into it, until your fists twist in his shirt and drag him closer.
Steve groans in approval against your shoulder. “That’s it,” he rasps, pressing you forward just enough that Eddie can feel your heartbeat against his chest. “Now slow down. Make her want it.”
Eddie whimpers, but obeys, pulling back just enough to tease your lower lip between his teeth before licking into your mouth like you’re water and he’s been dying of thirst.
The sound you make — the soft, wanting whine—it's the hottest thing he’s ever heard. Steve pulls you back again, but this time, there’s satisfaction in his grin. “See?” His thumb swipes over your kiss-swollen lips, smug. “She likes it when you take your time.”
Steve doesn’t let go of you—not really. Even as he nudges you toward the couch, his palm stays glued to the small of your back, steering you like he owns every inch of space you move through. Eddie doesn’t need to be told to follow; his pulse hammers in his throat, fingers flexing like he’s already imagining the weight of you beneath them.
“Sit.” Steve’s order cracks through the air, and Eddie drops onto an armchair like his strings have been cut.
You don’t get the chance to join him. Steve catches your wrist, yanking you back against his chest instead. His mouth brushes your ear, voice a low, possessive hum: “Nah, sweetheart. You’re staying right here.” His fingers trail down your arm before guiding your hand to Eddie’s jaw. “Let him earn it.”
Eddie’s breath stutters. Christ. Up close, you’re devastating. The way your eyes shimmer with pure lust, the way your lips part—just slightly—when Steve’s fingers skim over the lace of your bra. The syrupy moan you let out when he pinches your nipple over it, just enough to make your back arch—
“See that?” Steve’s voice is rough against your ear. “She gets loud when she’s turned on. You just have to know how to listen.” Eddie nods, swallowing hard. His hands hover over your hips like he’s afraid you’ll dissolve under his touch. Steve rolls his eyes.
“Jesus, Munson. You’re not going to break her.” He grabs Eddie’s wrist, pressing his palm flat against your stomach. “Feel how warm she is? How fucking desperate?”
Eddie’s fingers twitch. He can feel it—the rapid rise and fall of your breath, the way your skin burns under his touch.
“Now”, Steve murmurs, lips grazing your shoulder, “show me what you’ve learned.”
Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice.
This time, when he kisses you, it’s relaxed—calculated. He licks into your mouth like he’s savouring it, one hand sliding up your ribs while the other tangles in your hair. And when you moan, when your hips jerk forward like you just can’t help it, Eddie groans against your lips like he’s just discovered fucking religion.
Steve watches, eyes dark with approval. “Better,” he rasps. Then, with a smirk: “Now get on your knees.”
Eddie freezes, and Steve arches a brow,“got a problem?”
“No—fuck, no.” Eddie’s already sliding to the floor, knees hitting the carpet with a thud. His hands find your thighs, gripping just tight enough to feel the muscle tense under his fingers.
Steve’s smirk widens. “Good.”
The praise goes straight to Eddie’s dick.
You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him gasp—and God, Eddie’s never been so hard in his life.
Steve’s voice is a murmur as he trails a path down your throat, bruises already blooming under his mouth. “Now, make her beg.”
Eddie’s breathing is ragged as he looks up at you—fuck, the way your pupils are blown wide, the way your chest rises with every shaky inhale. Steve’s fingers are still tangled in your hair, his thumb brushing a stray strand behind your ear with a tenderness that feels domestic. Your eyes meet Eddie’s just before they flutter shut, and it’s all the permission he needs. His mouth finds the inside of your knee first, lips dragging slow and hot up your skin, teeth grazing just enough to make you squirm. Steve hums, tracing your ribs and sliding your bra strap down your shoulder. His palm cups your breast as it spills free, kneading with a lazy possessiveness that has your hips jerking forward — but Eddie holds you steady, determined.
His tongue traces past the waistband of your panties like he’s trying to memorise the shape of you, and when his eyes flick up to Steve, all he finds is lust, raw and unfiltered. So Eddie hooks his fingers into the fabric and pulls, dragging it down your legs as he kisses a trail after it, reverent even in his hunger. His fingers work you with surprising precision, his gaze desperate for approval — and when he curls them just right, you gasp, arching into his touch with a moan loud enough to make Steve’s smirk falter. He wasn’t expecting that.
The slip in Steve’s control sends a thrill through Eddie, and he murmurs against your thigh, voice rough: “You sound so fucking sweet — bet you taste even better.” Steve’s grip tightens on your hip, hard enough to bruise, but you don’t seem to mind.
He’d meant to teach. Now, he’s learning.
And the way you’re unravelling under Eddie’s touch stirs something awake inside of him. Eddie’s got a musician’s dexterity, his fingers able to coax sinful melodies from you with every twist. When you whimper Eddie’s name, Steve’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t stop him. Just watches with a gaze darker than the midnight sky itself as Eddie’s breath ghosts over you, your thighs trembling. “Please—”
The word barely leaves your lips before Eddie adds another finger, crooking them until your thighs squeeze around his wrist. He groans against your skin, resting his forehead against your leg as the vibration tears another broken sound from your throat. He fucks you with his fingers — slow and deep, then fast and relentless, like he can’t decide whether to savour you or ruin you.
Eddie, drunk on your praise, dares to glance up at Steve with a smirk. Steve’s nostrils flare, but instead of shutting him down, he drags a thumb over your cheek and growls, “You gonna cum for him?” You can’t even answer. Your back arches, toes curling, and Eddie drinks it in like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. The moment you shatter, he loses it. He’s not sure what destroys him more — the way you choke out his name, begging him not to stop, or the filthy, approving rumble of Steve’s voice as he speaks, “Good girl.”
Eddie finds himself at an impasse, torn between begging for more and staying silent as the two of you decide his fate. His fingers twitch where they grip your thighs, his breath ragged, his entire body coiled tight with anticipation—and fear. Steve detaches himself from nipping at your collarbone when Eddie wavers, his movements faltering. A reprimand flashes in Steve’s darkened gaze, sharp enough to make Eddie shudder again. “Didn’t you hear her, Munson?” Steve’s voice is a low, warning growl. “She told you not to stop.”
But Eddie freezes. The reality of where he is—what he’s doing—hits him like a freight train. He has no idea how to continue.
But Steve doesn’t tolerate hesitation. His hand fists in Eddie’s hair, yanking him forward with a rough, “Stop thinking.”
Eddie obeys like a man possessed, and the moment his tongue drags over you, his whole body jerks—holy shit. You taste even better than he could’ve dared to dream. Sweet, addictive, and the way you gasp when he flicks his tongue over your clit? He’s ruined. Forever.
Drunk on you—on the way your fingers tighten in his hair, the way you’re so wet it’s coating your thighs—he laps at you like his life depends on it. Steve watches with drowsy satisfaction, his palm sliding possessively up your stomach to cup your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple just to hear you whimper for him again.
“Listen to how she sounds when you do it right,” Steve murmurs, voice thick with contentment. “Isn’t it the most beautiful sound in the world?” He doesn’t wait for Eddie to answer. Instead, he tilts your jaw toward him, locking you in a searing kiss. You moan into Steve’s mouth as Eddie continues, his tongue relentless, his own desperate noises vibrating against you. Steve chuckles darkly when Eddie whimpers, his cock straining against his jeans just from tasting you. He hasn’t even touched himself, but he’s so close he’s shaking.
“Are you going to come just from this, Munson?” Steve drags him off you by his hair, grinning at the dazed, wrecked look on Eddie’s face. “Fuck, look at him, darling. He’s a mess.” Eddie’s lips are slick, his chest heaving, his pupils blown so wide his eyes look black. Steve doesn’t give him a chance to recover. He pushes Eddie back into the armchair, his grip firm, dominant. Then he guides you onto the couch with a smirk.
“You did good,” he tells Eddie, voice dripping with condescension. “Now let me show you great.”
Steve doesn’t waste time. In one smooth motion, he hooks his hands under your knees, spreading you wide —putting you on display— before dragging you to the edge of the couch. His gaze locks onto Eddie’s, making sure he’s watching as he leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, a shudder running through you at the sensation. “See how she shivers?” Steve murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, laced with something Eddie can only describe as devotion. “It’s because she knows what’s coming—” Then he devours you.
Unlike Eddie’s frantic, eager strokes, Steve’s tongue moves with precision — deliberate, decisive licks that have you arching off the couch within seconds. He teases you, circling your clit until you’re gasping, then he pulls back with a cruel smirk.
“Steve—” you whine, fingers scrambling at his hair. “Patience, sweetheart,” he muses — before sucking your clit between his lips, hard. Your cry echoes through the room, and Eddie’s hands clench into fists, his hips jerking helplessly as you overwhelm his senses without even touching him. Steve doesn’t let up; he works you with his mouth until your thighs tremble, until your moans grow longer and heavy, until you’re right there—, and he pulls away.
“No, no, baby, please—” you beg, but Steve just clicks his tongue, amused, sliding two fingers into you without warning. “Look at her, Munson,” he orders, curling his fingers just right, making you sob beneath him. “This is how you give her what she deserves.” His thrusts are ruthless, his palm grinding against your clit with every movement. You’re a writhing, whimpering mess, your nails digging into Steve’s shoulders as he fucks you on his fingers, his eyes locked onto Eddie’s the entire time.
“She’s close,” Steve taunts — he doesn’t even need to look at you to know, too busy watching the way Eddie’s jaw clenches. “You want to see what happens when she comes on my hand?” Eddie can’t even speak. He just nods, frantic. Steve smiles wickedly and makes do with the response. “Then watch closely.”
He crooks his fingers again, pressing deeper, and you don’t just shatter — you explode. Your back bows like you’re possessed, broken screams tearing from your throat as you squirt, and Eddie swears he’s seeing stars. Your hand finds Steve’s bicep, clinging desperately, like you’re afraid he’ll stop. Eddie can’t look away; he doesn’t dare blink — if he misses a single second of this, he’ll never forgive himself.
Steve works you through it, drawing out every last spasm until tears streak your face, until you’re oversensitive, trying to squirm away. Only then does he finally relent, licking his fingers with a satisfied hum before brushing featherlight kisses up to your neck. The moment you feel his proximity, you meet him in a kiss — not heated like before, but purposeful, delicate, like Steve is guiding you back to reality with it. He doesn’t rush you; he just lets your fingers weave through his hair until your breathing steadies. Then, he speaks again. “That”, he says, “is how it’s done.” He meets Eddie’s stunned gaze. “You shouldn’t even be thinking about getting your dick wet until she’s clenching around nothing.”
Eddie’s so hard it hurts. His cock throbs against his jeans, neglected and aching, precum soaking the fabric. He’s never been this turned on in his life—and the worst part? Steve knows it. The bastard smirks, dragging a thumb over your lower lip. You suck it in eagerly, tongue swirling, before he pulls away and stands. It’s a fucking performance. Steve undoes his belt like he’s savouring the way Eddie’s eyes cling to his hands, the leather slipping free with a final, damning shush. You whimper, still boneless from your orgasm, but your eyes flutter open when Steve’s palm slides up your thigh, squeezing. “Please, Steve?” you breathe, and his grin turns feral. “Not yet, love.” He glances at Eddie, whose throat bobs under the weight of his stare. “Munson hasn’t earned it yet.”
Eddie’s stomach drops. Fuck. He’s dripping in his pants, his hips twitching like a fucking teenager, and Steve’s going to make him wait? But then—
Steve grips Eddie’s chin, forcing his gaze up. “You want her?” he asks, voice rough. Eddie nods, greedy. “Then prove you can take care of her.” And just like that, Steve shoves him onto the couch with you. “Do it like I showed you.”
For a heartbeat, Eddie can only stare—at the way your breath hitches when he touches you, at the way your eyes lock on Steve, who’s sprawled in the armchair like it’s a fucking throne, lazily stroking his cock. Your lips part, and Eddie swears he sees your mouth water—fuck, it’s obscene. His hands tremble as he touches you—really touches you—this time. His mouth finds your thigh, kissing up the sensitive skin, trying to mimic the way Steve had worshipped you earlier. But when his tongue drags over you, your breath catches—wrong—and Steve’s low chuckle cuts through the room like a knife.
“Christ, Munson,” Steve sighs, his grip tightening around his cock. “You’re thinking too hard.”
Eddie grits his teeth. He is. He’s thinking about the way Steve had made you scream, the way your back arched off the couch like you were trying to fuse into him. He’s thinking about the fact that Steve’s watching, lazily stroking himself while Eddie fumbles like a virgin.
And the nail in the coffin? You’re watching Steve too. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes heavy with desire—but not for Eddie.
“Fuck,” Eddie rasps, pulling back. His voice is wrecked.“I can’t—I don’t—” Steve leans forward, fingertips ghosting over your throat as you keen toward him. “You can,” he growls. “Stop trying to perform. Just feel her.”
Eddie’s breath comes in sharp bursts. This time, when his mouth finds your cunt, he doesn’t think. He listens. To the way your breath catches when he licks a slow, experimental stripe. To the way your hips jerk when he sucks just there. And when your fingers fist in his hair—finally—it’s not to guide him, but to hold on.
“There,” Steve murmurs, voice thick with approval. “Now you’re getting it.” Eddie moans against you, the vibration pulling a whimper from your throat. Fuck. He’s dizzy with it—the taste of you, the sounds you’re making, the way Steve’s gaze burns into him like a brand.
But then Steve stands. Eddie barely has time to register the loss before Steve’s dragging him up by the collar, spinning him around to face you—really face you. Your lips are swollen, your chest heaving, your thighs slick with Steve’s work.
"Look at her," Steve growls, his voice a dark scrape against Eddie’s ear. "Don’t just glance—really look."
And Eddie looks. He sees the damp flush between your breasts, the way your hips lift like you’re already chasing it, the way your pupils blow wide when Steve’s thumb swipes over your bottom lip. "She’s not yours," Steve breathes, dragging his teeth over Eddie’s earlobe. "But fuck, look how bad she wants you to try."
Eddie’s pulse races. Then Steve steps back, gesturing like a king permitting a subject to kneel. "Go on. Make her forget my fucking name."
So he closes his eyes, trying to drown out the noise in his head, to sync himself with the thrum of your heartbeat beneath him, to dissolve into every breath you take. He wants to belong here, in this moment, where Steve’s approval hangs heavy in the air and your pleasure is the only thing that matters — success. A satisfied hum from Steve when Eddie finally finds the right rhythm, a broken moan from your lips. But your eyes — your eyes stay locked on Steve, even as Eddie’s mouth works you over. It’s still him you want. Hunger battles with pride in Eddie’s chest. He hates how badly he craves this—how much he needs Steve’s approval—but god, he longs to pull those sounds from you himself, to unravel you with nothing but his touch. And so he moves like a man possessed, single-minded in his mission to play you like an instrument, to pluck every string until you snap.
Your taste is intoxicating, something he’s already addicted to, something he’s not sure he can live without anymore. Your eyes scrunch shut as pleasure blooms, so lost in it that you don’t even notice Steve speeding up his strokes, his grip tight on his cock. Eddie gets close—so close he can practically taste your climax—but you linger on the edge, just out of reach. He’s aware he’s missing something, some final piece to send you over, but he can’t find it. Then your eyes flicker open again, searching for Steve’s gaze like it’s the only thing that can save you. And Eddie knows—he’s pushed his luck too far. Steve’s patience snaps—not with his pleasure, but with Eddie’s failure to give you yours. Next thing he knows, he’s being dragged back, the warmth of you ripped away too soon. Steve looms over him, a predator in human skin, annoyance rolling off him in waves. “If you want to get a chance to fuck her,” Steve growls, voice dripping with challenge, “you’re going to have to do better than that.”
Eddie’s brain becomes the mental equivalent of a dropped Wi-Fi signal—because did Steve just imply—?
Every touch, every taste Steve has allowed him, Eddie has devoured with insatiable hunger. But now it hits him—this is more than just a demonstration. Steve might actually let him fuck you. Or he would have. Now, Eddie isn’t sure he’ll ever get the opportunity again. A sharp, breathy cry from you yanks him from his thoughts. Steve has already turned you over, guiding you onto your hands and knees, one foot perched on the armrest behind you like a damn king claiming his treasure. Eddie is so close to your face now, your slick still glistening on his chin as you blink up at him, dazed. Steve teases your entrance with his cock, just enough to have you pushing back, begging for it. And for one glorious, heart-stopping moment—you look at Eddie.
Not at back at Steve.
At him.
Your gaze is pure, primal desperation—like he’s the one you need. Steve drives into you in one brutal thrust, and your eyes screw shut in ecstasy. You sob Steve’s name, but your eyes flicker back open as you you look at him.
“Baby, please—” And it dawns on him—you are begging Steve, but not for Steve. No, you’re begging for permission, your gaze locked onto Eddie like he’s the only thing anchoring you to earth. He doesn’t know what you’re asking for, but Christ, he already knows he wants it just as much.
Steve, of course, does understand. He drags his cock into you agonisingly slow, pressing tender kisses along your spine even as his voice comes out harsh. “You think he deserves it, honey?” You whine, desperate, but Steve doesn’t need more than that. He leans over you, his thrusts deliberate, sinful. “How could I ever say no to you?”
And fuck, Eddie gets it now—gets why Steve turns possessive, gets why you love it. He’s watching the two of you move like a single entity, Steve’s hips rolling into you with a precision that rewrites Eddie’s entire understanding of sex. And the real tragedy? He’s pretty sure you’re only getting started. Your fingers fist in Eddie’s collar, yanking him down hard. His breath stutters as your lips take him in, hot and needy, and he doesn’t think—just reacts, his hands tangling in your hair as Steve’s thrusts rock you forward, forcing Eddie deeper into your mouth. You moan around him, the vibrations nearly undoing him right there, but then your hand tugs at his belt loop like it’s personally offended you, and Eddie’s thoughts fry into static. What do you want? He glances at Steve for answers, but the bastard just laughs, driving into you harder like he’s savouring Eddie’s confusion.
And God help him, Eddie looks. It’s downright pornographic. Steve’s cock glistens as he pulls out, your body clinging to him like it never wants to let go, and every time he sinks back in, you clench, a broken noise tearing from your throat.
As Eddie freezes, you take matters into your own hands, undoing Eddie’s belt with ruthless efficiency. The zipper’s barely down before his jeans pool at his knees. He looks at Steve again—helpless—but Steve just shakes his head, smirking. “Jesus, Munson. Keep up.”
Your fingers brush the straining outline of his cock through his boxers, and his hips jerk. Your mouth finds the spot beneath his ear, teeth scraping, and—fuck—it nearly sends him over the edge right then. You’re not gentle. You know exactly what you want. In seconds, his dick is in your hand, your grip perfect, and the first stroke has him grinding his teeth so hard his jaw hurts. He wants to keep his eyes open—to watch, to devour every detail of every second—but his body betrays him. A shudder wracks through him, his lashes fluttering helplessly before his head falls back, lost to the crushing wave of ecstasy."
“Fuck—!”
Steve’s voice cuts through the haze, dark with amusement. “That’s it, sweetheart. Show him how good you can be.” His hand tangles in your hair—not guiding, just holding—like he wants Eddie to see he’s the one in control. That every gasp you make, every shudder Eddie can’t suppress, is because Steve orchestrated it.
“Bet he’s never felt anything like you.” Eddie’s thighs tremble, his cock twitching against your tongue. He’s close, too close, and Steve knows it—fuck, he’s enjoying it. “Look at him,” Steve murmurs, dragging his cock out of you just to slam back in, punching a moan from your lips. “Already shaking for you. Bet he wishes it was him inside instead.” His thumb swipes over your clit, and you whimper, your rhythm on Eddie faltering. “But he’s got to earn that, doesn’t he?”
Earn it? Eddie’s vision blurs at the edges. He’d shamelessly beg if it meant— Then your tongue swirls over the head of his cock, and he chokes, almost falling forward into you.
“Steady,” Steve warns, though his voice is anything but calm. “You cum before she does, and I’ll make you watch while I fuck her twice as hard.”
Eddie’s groan is nothing short of pure agony. Steve fucks you more slowly then—cruel, like he’s savouring Eddie’s torment—dragging his cock almost all the way out before sinking back in, his grip on your hair tightening just enough to make your eyes water. But your dedication doesn’t waver; if anything, it burns hotter. “Shit—” Eddie’s hips jerk involuntarily, but you swallow him deeper, humming around the salt-bitter heat of him. His fingers scramble at the cushions, knuckles white. “Jesus, sweetheart, where the hell did you learn—?”
Steve’s laugh is a dark, knowing thing against your neck. His hands slide up your thighs, spreading you wider as he presses inside, slow, letting you feel every fucking inch. “She’s full of surprises,” he murmurs, lips grazing your ear. “But you’re not going to last long enough to find out, are you?”
Eddie’s groan disintegrates, the way you swirl your tongue around him, the slick pressure of your throat—it’s nothing like the groupies who’d thrown themselves at Corroded Coffin. This is ruination. This is worship. Your mouth works him with practiced greed, and Eddie’s vision blurs.
“Fuck, I’m not—I can’t—”
“Yes. You can.” Steve’s voice doesn’t leave room for argument—this isn’t a suggestion; it’s a command. His hand moves from your scalp to your nipple, pinching just shy of pain until you whine around Eddie’s cock. His other hand slips between your legs, circling your clit with filthy precision. “You going to come for us, sweetheart?” he rasps. You nod frantically, lips stretched lewdly around Eddie. “Good. Let him see.” You break with a cry, muffled around Eddie’s cock, and Steve growls as your body clenches around him. “That’s it,” he grits out, hips snapping harder, “that’s my girl—” Eddie’s spellbound.
Steve fucks you through it, your tears smearing Eddie’s thighs. His breath comes in punched-out gasps, cock twitching against your tongue—
Steve loses control first. A guttural groan tears from his throat as he spills inside you, forehead dropping between your shoulder blades.
Eddie’s hips stutter when you whimper, oversensitive, as Steve grinds into you one last time—claiming you like he wants to brand the feeling into your skin. And then— “Fuck!” Eddie’s back arches, his cock jerking as you pull off with a slick pop, begging Steve for mercy. He comes untouched, frustration and relief searing through him as he gasps your name like a prayer. Steve laughs, low and satisfied. Eddie’s too wrecked to care, chest heaving—until Steve’s next words send him tumbling straight back into want.
“Let me know if you’ve got any requests for the next lesson.”
Eddie's Little Bat @babybatlover - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
