Cursed… But In A Fun Way

Sophie, 27, UK - 18+ NSFW so minors✨BE GONE✨

[splattergutz]

i feel like i’m cursed forever but other than that i’m doing alright

[turnipfritters]

[goodgirlcoded]

pfft what a fucking nerd let me sink down on you

[storiesbyrhi]

[girlbossagenda]

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹

This week is going to bring me abundance. This week is going to bring me love. This week is going to bring me peace

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹

[ceriseheaven]

BABE WAKE UP WE GOT NEW EDDIE CRUMBS IN THE BIG 26 !!!!!!!!

[kassy-djomunson]

am i dreaming or is that you, joseph?

[kassy-djomunson]

pookie

[marsuv]

Keep You Coming for One Thousand and One Nights

Part Two of What heavy metal does to you or CAN be read as standalone

Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI , oral f and m receiving, unprotected sex, picnic table sex (bucket list, sorry) , referenced trauma but I promise it’s not angsty, scar kink, drug use (weed) , he can cook actually, reader has a job and a personality, no physical description, found family adjacent (robin and steve being nosy), humor.

Eddie Munson x female Reader | ~3600 words | Explicit 18+

Eight months after the “earthquake” split Hawkins open, another consulting contract drags you back. You tell yourself it’s the job. The Hideout is rubble. You find a video store instead… Can be read as a standalone.

If you want Part One plot: girl walks into a bar, guitarist catches her eye during a solo, they spend a night together, next morning he asks for a ride to his high school. That’s all you need.

Someone throw dividers at me please

The flowers were from Dustin.

The oranges were from Max. The magazine was from Gareth.

It arrived on day four of Eddie's recovery, still in its plastic sleeve, slid onto the bed with no explanation and no eye contact. 

His right arm was bandaged from wrist to shoulder. Moving too fast still made something in his ribs protest loudly. He was bored completely out of his mind and had been staring at the same water stain on the hospital ceiling for six hours and counting.

He picked up the magazine.

———

It was Hustler. Of course it was. Gareth had probably bought it at a gas station and died internally in the process.

Eddie peeled the plastic sleeve off with his good hand and flipped through it with the idle curiosity of a man who had nothing else going on. The pictures were fine. He turned to the fiction section, as a known literature lover…

He almost missed it.

He was halfway through a story on page forty-seven when something snagged. He went back. Read the line again.

He sat up too fast and his ribs screamed at him but he didn't care.

He read the whole thing.

It was anonymous. A reader submission from [city redacted]. The magazine's editorial note called it "unusually literary for the genre" which, even now, made him grin despite himself. He read it twice more, slowly, the way you re-read something you can't quite believe is real.

The bar with the stage the size of a closet. The band setting up. The guitarist with the dark curls. The gin and tonics. Her watching him through the solo and clenching her thighs. The hallway by the bathrooms.  “Drive fast.” The hotel. The shower. All this could be a coincidence. But not “two blocks from the High school”.

He dropped his head back against the pillow and stared at the ceiling with a very different expression than the one he'd been wearing for the last four days.

She'd written about him.

She'd gone back to her city and she'd written it down and sent it to a magazine and it had been published and Gareth had bought it at a gas station without knowing and put it in his hands in a hospital bed in Hawkins, Indiana.

The universe, Eddie thought, had a genuinely deranged sense of humor.

He looked down at the magazine again. Then at the closed door. Then at the magazine.

His ribs hurt. His arm hurt. He had a button he could press that would bring a nurse in approximately four minutes.

He found page forty-seven again, settled back against the pillow, and got his good hand busy.

———

It wasn't hard to get there. The story was good — she wrote direct and precise and liked even more that it was describing how she felt back then. He read the part about his solo and felt something warm spread through his chest that had nothing to do with what his hand was doing.

She'd watched him play and then she'd gone home and written it down.

He stroked himself slowly at first, reading, then faster, the magazine went down on his chest, and when he came it was with his head back and his jaw clenched and her name forming behind his teeth. Not sweetheart. The real one.

He lay there for a moment, breathing.

Then he looked at the ceiling and said, out loud, to no one:

"Come back to Hawkins."

———

You hadn’t planned on ending up back here.

Six months after the earthquake that split Hawkins open like a wound that refused to close, another consulting contract dragged you down. The client needed someone to “optimize supply chains for reconstruction.” You’d said yes, because part of you had been waiting for an excuse. The memory of dark curls, silver rings, and that wolfish grin had lived rent-free in your head since the morning you dropped him two blocks from Hawkins High. Eddie Munson.

———

The video store was called Family Video and it was exactly as exciting as it sounded.

You'd been staring at it for a few minutes from your rental car. You had a client meeting in the morning. You were a grown adult professional who had flown into this town to do a job and not under any circumstances to track down a man you'd spent one night with eight months ago but…

The Hideout was rubble.

You'd driven past it on autopilot, muscle memory pointing you toward a bar that didn't exist anymore and felt something drop in your stomach.

You'd found the video store. It seemed like the kind of place people knew their clients.

You browsed for a minute. You picked up a copy of Back to the Future and put it down.

"You okay?" said the girl with a bob.

"Yes," you said. "I'm looking for someone. 

The boy with good hair  looked up from the counter.

You took a breath. "His name is Eddie. He used to play at The Hideout. I was in town a while back and we—" you paused, "—talked. And now the bar is a pile of bricks and I don't know if he's—"

"He's alive," said the girl, watching you with what appeared to be forensic interest.

The relief hit you in the knees. "Good. Okay."

She looked at the guy telling him with gestures to call Eddie. He looked at her. A full conversation happened in zero words. Last thing you wanted is to involve his friends. 

"Steve," said the girl.

He went to the back room. You heard a phone being dialed.

Robin, as her badge said, basically threw herself at you providing full information on the store inventory starting from the silent cinema era. 

Steve returned with the address for you. 

———

Twenty minutes later you were in a diner sitting across from Eddie Munson, who looked at you like you were something he'd used to imagine and not actually see.

He was different. Same curls, same rings, same general energy, but a huge scar on the side of his neck  and something that you read as confidence behind his eyes. 

"You came back," he said.

"I had a client."

"Sure."

"The Hideout is —"

"Rubble." He said it with you. Then he smiled. "You are extremely resourceful” 

 He leaned back, studying your work outfit. "You look good."

"You look like you've had a year."

"I've had a year." He said it lightly, which told you it was not light.

The waitress brought him a bottle of beer without being asked. 

"Tell me about it," you said.

He told you. Edited, just the shape of it without the details, the how without the what. Something bad had happened. He'd been in the middle of it and came out the other side, graduated cause school wanted to be over with him, got a job at a record store and taught kids to play guitar. He said it all in the same flat tone of a man who'd made peace with absurdity.

"The scar," you said.

"Third date material."

"This is the second date."

"The Hideout—"

"Still counts," you said.

"Then this is the second date." He met your eyes. "Next time."

You looked at him. "Okay."

Something shifted in his expression, small and warm. Like he hadn't been sure you'd agree to a next time.

———

You walked after dinner because neither of you wanted to end it. The town park was quiet, the sky doing its October thing — ink blue going dark quickly, first stars coming through.

Eddie produced a joint from his jacket pocket.

"You want some?" He asked.

"Absolutely" 

He lit it, took a drag, offered it to you. 

You took the joint. Sat on the back of a picnic table with your feet on the bench, and Eddie dropped down next to you, close enough that his knee pressed against yours. He threw his jacket over your shoulders, exposing more scars on his forearms. 

The joint had burned down between you. The park was completely empty. The dark had finished arriving, and the only light was distant and yellow from the street. 

“Are you seeing anyone?” you asked, because you’d been wondering for two hours and the joint had shortened the distance between wondering and asking.

He laughed. “No. Surprisingly, the dating pool has been limited. Turns out most people in a fifty mile radius still think I’m a murderer. Which is—” he paused to reconsider, “—factually a pretty reasonable dealbreaker.”

You leaned over and kissed him.

He went still for one second, just long enough for it to register,  and then his hand came up to your jaw and he kissed you back, thorough and warm, hands at your waist. Wet tongue slipped in as soon as you opened for him, hungry and desperate, like he never thought you would really come back. His big hand wrinkled your pencil skirt up and you pressed hips into him. 

"You planned this," he said against your neck.

"I really didn't."

"You wore this on purpose." His fingers traced the neckline of your shirt.

"I'm a consultant. That’s what I wear."

"It's working," he said. You laughed and pulled his hair to make him expose his neck, good side, and kissed it from the jawline down. 

When you pulled back his eyes were dark. You slipped down on the bench. 

"You sure about this? Because we're in a public park and—"

You popped the button on his jeans, tugged the zipper down, and freed him. His cock was already thickening, flushed and perfect, a line of hair went from his bellybutton down. You traced it with your tongue first, slow and teasing, then took him into your mouth.

Eddie’s head thunked back  with a groan that was half plea, half swearing. “@&)$&—okay, yeah. This is officially my new favorite way to get cut off. 

You worked him slow and filthy, savoring the weight on your tongue, the salt and faint smoke taste of him. One hand stroked the base, the other mapping the scars on his groin, feeling the raised pink lines under your palm. He threaded his fingers into your hair, gently scraping your scalp with his nails.

“Fuck, your mouth should be illegal,” he breathed, voice thick with humor and heat. “I survived hell and you’re the one gonna finish me off. Poetic.”

You hollowed your cheeks, swirled your tongue around the head on every upstroke, and felt him start to tremble. The weed made everything hazy and electric—wet sounds, ragged breaths. When his groans edged toward desperate he muffled them by pressing his fist against his own lips, jerking up a few times, not able to hold it back, coming hard. 

You pulled off with a wet pop, lips shiny, and smiled up at him.

"Your turn," he said hoarsely.

He pulled you up on the picnic table. Got your skirt up, pushed you gently back to sit on the table's edge, and knelt in front of you in the leaves like this was an entirely normal sequence of events.

"Eddie—"

"Quiet park," he said, "your words." He looked up at you with that insufferable mouth doing a crooked smile. "Seemed like a good idea."

He pushed your panties down, and then his hand was between your legs. Eddie planted a kiss on your inner thigh before two fingers entered you, and you gasped.

The high made every touch linger.He worked you slow and deliberate, knuckles deep, rings pressing in just at the edge of each movement, the sensation different enough from bare skin that it kept sending electric jolts to your spine. His mouth pressed against your clit.

"Eddie—"

"I got you," he said quietly, satisfied, curled his fingers, and you bit your own hand to stay quiet.

His tongue worked in combination with hand, thorough and unhurried, circling, lapping, sucking it in. You came in waves, one hand white-knuckling the edge of the picnic table, the other in his hair, his name shaping itself involuntarily on your lips.

He stood up. Leaves on his knees. 

"Okay," you said, when you had most of your lungs back.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"We should—"

“Come to mine tomorrow,” he said. “Six o’clock. I’ll cook.”

You looked at him. “You’ll cook.”

“I’ll cook.”

“Should I eat beforehand?”

He put a hand over his heart. “That is genuinely hurtful.”

“Eddie.”

“Six o’clock,” he said. “I’m cooking. Come.”

You looked at him in the dark, still slightly wrecked and already making dinner plans with unguarded optimism.

“Okay,” you said.

The full grin. “Okay.”

———

You could hear him through the door before you knocked — Eddie’s voice, and a smaller voice arguing back.

You waited on the landing. Through the door:

“—the way I showed you—”

“My hand isn’t as big as your hand.”

A beat.

“…that’s a valid point. We’ll figure it out next week.” A pause. “Same time Thursday?”

Shuffling. The sound of a guitar case zipping. Then the door opened and a kid of about twelve squeezed past you on the landing with a case on his back, not making eye contact, thundering down the stairs with the urgency of someone escaping.

Eddie appeared in the doorway in a flannel with the sleeves pushed up, looking absolutely pleased.

“He always runs,” he said. “I think I scare him a little.” He stepped back. “Come in.”

You handed him a bottle of wine, letting him cook was enough risk for you. 

Eddie opened it and poured two actually clean glasses. 

“Third date” he clinked his glass with yours. 

"Third date," you confirmed.

“Lesson got delayed, sorry. I’ll be quick. Explore.» Eddie turned on some music, probably carefully selected. 

He got his own place. You knew market was really bad. The apartment was small but thoroughly Eddie — band posters on every wall, an electric and an acoustic guitar, an amp doing double duty as a coffee table. The cassettes on the shelf, a whole bookcase of what looked like fantasy, some weird dice and figurines. You peeked through the door at his bedroom, handcuffs caught your eye and you retreated to the kitchen, amused. 

You sat on the counter while he moved around the small kitchen with hectic ease, pulling things out of the fridge with the confidence of someone who’d been feeding himself for years and had a short reliable rotation.

“What are you making?” you asked.

“Pasta. Garlic, olive oil, whatever’s in the fridge.”

You looked at what he’d pulled out. Eggs. A green Kraft can. Half a pack of bacon already on the counter.

“You have everything for carbonara,” you said.

He looked at the ingredients. Then at you. “Is that the one with the eggs?”

“It’s the one where you have to know what you’re doing with the eggs.”

“I know what I’m doing with eggs.”

“A lot of people think that.”

He crossed his arms. “Show me then.”

So you did — staying on the counter, talking him through it while he worked. Bacon first, rendered slow until the fat ran clear and the edges crisped. Eggs cracked into a bowl, the Kraft can shaken generously over them, pepper ground until he looked like he might stop but didn’t. The timing of pulling the pan off the heat, the pasta water added in splashes, the egg mixture going in slow while he tossed it constantly without stopping.

He listened with focused attention. No shortcuts, no impatience, doing exactly what you said.

When it came together — glossy, properly coated, he stood back and looked at it with quiet satisfaction.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” you agreed.

You ate at the kitchen table, the mail consolidated into one archaeological pile at the end. The carbonara was genuinely decent for something quickly whipped from what’s available.

“This is good.”You said, after the second bite.

He pointed at you with his fork. “I told you I can cook.”

“I had concerns.”

“The concerns were unfounded.” He was fully committed to carbonara. 

“I believe you now.”

“I know.” Insufferably calm about it.

You ate and drifted to the couch. He topped up the glasses. Eddie changed the music to something slow and instrumental, and the whole evening started to have a slightly unreal quality.

He kissed you lightly first, but it quickly escalated. You reached for the hem of his t-shirt, and paused. "Third date material?"

He pulled it over his head.

The scars were more extensive than a glimpse in the park had suggested. Right arm from wrist to shoulder, and his torso, some of his ribs, the edge of his collarbone. Not surgical. Not uniform. Like something had happened very fast and very badly.

You reached out first. Fingertips glided over the raised lines on his forearms. The skin was smooth in places, puckered in others. He didn’t flinch. Just watched you, breathing steady.

“These ones hurt like hell when they happened,” he said quietly, voice rough from smoke. “But not anymore”. He took your wrist gently, guiding your hand to the scar along his neck. “Touch all you want. They’re yours tonight.”

You traced lower, over his ribs, feeling the way his muscles jumped. He was hard already, jeans tented, but he didn’t rush. He just leaned back, letting you explore while the music wrapped the room in slow motion.

Then he caught your wrist, gentle but firm, and pulled you down until your mouths met.

The kiss hit like the first crack of thunder —deep, devouring, pure passion poured straight into your mouth. His tongue slid against yours, hot and insistent, tasting faintly of wine. One hand cupped the back of your neck, thumb stroking the racing pulse under your jaw like he needed to feel your rush. The other hand gripped your hip, fingers shoved denim skirt up, no work clothes tonight, pulling you flush against him so you could feel exactly how much he’d missed you.

You made a helpless sound into his mouth and he answered with a low groan that vibrated through your chest. He kissed you harder, tilting his head, sucking on your lower lip, then soothing it with his tongue. 

You worked your way  from his lips down his scarred neck, his collarbone, your mouth finding every place that made Eddie respond and staying there slightly longer.

"You're doing that on purpose," he said.

"Yes," you agreed, unapologetically, and moved down further.

You slid your hand down the front of his jeans instead, palming the bulge through denim. Eddie’s breath hitched, but that crooked grin never left his face.

“Condom’s in the  bed drawer. But I’m clean if you are ok with it. Your call.” He said, voice dropping.

You nodded.

You freed him from his jeans, the cock sprung out,  shiny from precum. You sank down onto him in one slow glide.

Eddie groaned, head falling back against the couch, hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave faint prints. “Fuck—yeah, just like that. Ride me, sweetheart.”

You did. Slow at first, rolling your hips in deep circles, feeling every inch of him stretch you open. The couch creaked under you; the music kept its lazy rhythm. You braced your hands on his scarred chest, nails lightly dragging over the raised lines, and picked up speed—bouncing harder, grinding down so your clit rubbed against his pelvis on every stroke.

“Fuck, you feel—” He cut himself off, hips snapping up to meet you. “—still better than I remembered.”

You leaned forward, mouth on his neck, kissing the good side, then the scarred side, biting gently. His hand slipped between you, thumb finding your clit and circling in tight, relentless strokes, until you came with a broken moan, clenching around him so hard his rhythm stuttered.

Eddie followed right after, groaning your name into the sealing, hips jerking up as he spilled deep inside .

You collapsed against his chest, both of you breathing hard, sweat cooling on your skin. You stayed embraced for a long moment before he reached for a tissue box. 

“Bed,” he said after a brief rest. “Round two. I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could answer he stood for the three steps it took to carry you across the tiny apartment. You wrapped your legs around his waist, laughing as he kicked the bedroom door open and dropped you onto the unmade bed. He stripped the rest of your clothes, and crawled over you.

This time it was slower. He pushed your legs apart, hooked one over his hip, and slid back in with a long, deliberate thrust that made your back arch. You moved together—deep, rolling strokes, hitting the perfect spot over and over, his mouth on your breasts, your hands in his curls. When you were both trembling on the edge again you gasped against his mouth, “Those handcuffs…who are they for?”

Eddie grinned, hips never stopping, bottoming out.  “You. Fourth date. You’ve gotta earn the restraints, sweetheart.” The way he said it made you fall apart.

You laughed breathlessly, clenching around him on purpose. “So I have to survive one more dinner before I get tied up?”

He slowed just enough to look down at you, eyes sparkling with that same wolfish mischief. “I know. Brutal, but I need to keep you interested. Keep you coming back. All one thousand nights of it—like Scheherazade. Tell you a new story every time so you don’t execute me at dawn.”

You wanted to laugh but it turned into a moan as he buried himself deep, face in your neck, groaning as he finished.

Afterward you lay tangled together, his arm heavy across your waist, the blanket he’d tossed over the bed now half-covering both of you. You traced one of the scars on his chest and smirked.

“You’re very well read for someone who’s been held back twice.”

Eddie barked out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I read everything they didn’t assign.” A beat. “The assigned stuff was boring.”

You smiled against his skin, already half-asleep. “Stay the night?” he asked quietly.

You curled closer.

[sparklesabbath]

if you still draw/write/edit eddie munson in the big 26 i love you and am kissing you on the forehead

[dearwalker]

I think he knows

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader x Steve Harrington Wc: 10.3k

Description: Eddie accidentally walks in on Steve fucking you in a WSQK storage closet. He thinks he’s doomed to a life of fantasizing over you with the only company of his right hand, until…Steve himself offers him a golden ticket straight to your bed: a threesome.

Warnings/tags: threesome smut, all are adults, fem!reader, established relationship with S5!Steve, no spoilers, Eddie survives S4 bc I say so, mentions of his scars, voyeurism, eddie fantasizes a lot, he jerks off a lot more, porn with plot, dry humping, oral male rec, fingering, piv sex, reverse cowgirl, both men are whipped for you.

Note: Surprise, new boy in the harem✨ No I don’t know how this happened, or how it ended up being so long but all I can say is merry early christmas my dears, enjoy the filth!! 🫦

archive | masterlist

he’s so obsessed with me and boy I understand

Eddie Munson had never hated the sun before.

Not until he saw it in your smile.

You were standing in front of him at the crawl meeting, giggling at something Robin had said, soft and golden in the way that only you could be, wearing Steve’s stupid jacket that by this point was pretty much your own. 

Because he was. 

Steve Harrington, Mr. Perfect Hair himself, asshole turned part time hero, was the guy who got to hold your hand in public. Eddie didn’t hate him. Not really. He wanted to, wanted it bad sometimes, when the jealousy itched too deep to scratch. 

He’d hated him at some point, when Dustin wouldn't shut up about how incredible his friend was. But alas, after everything they’d been through last year and Steve being the one who got him out of that hellhole, he really couldn’t hate him anymore. 

So, he hated the sun. Because he couldn't have it.

Eddie also hated himself for not speaking up sooner. For watching you fall in love with someone else while he sat in the background. And maybe that was his punishment. Maybe that was the price for every time he chickened out, every time he saw you in the hallway in that little cherry red jacket and panicked, ducking behind his locker like a coward.

Maybe if he hadn’t been, you would be wearing his jacket now. 

“Dude, wipe your face. You’re one drool away from filling the bucket,” came a voice from beside him, and undoubtedly by the tone–it had to be Henderson’s. 

Eddie snapped out of his trance by the sharp nudge of Dustin’s elbow. Shit. He hadn’t even realized he was watching. 

“I’m not,” he lied, even as he tilted his head just enough to catch another glimpse of you, this time laughing as Steve tried to sneak a kiss and Robin dramatically fake gagged next to you.

Jesus, Eddie was about to gag for real. 

“You’re staring again,” Dustin chuckled, walking away after patting him condescendingly on the back. 

Eddie shot him a glare but didn’t argue back. Because what was the point? 

All he could do was fantasize when it came to you. You would never look at him the same way you look at Steve. 

You just looked at him like he was funny. Your metalhead friend. And Eddie? Eddie looked at you like you hung the goddamn stars.

Things were finally looking up for Eddie. For once. 

Aside from his not so little crush situation, everything else seemed to be getting better. 

After almost dying being devoured by supernatural creatures–which, in his opinion would’ve been a very metal death–his uncle’s trailer had gotten split in half, and he’d gotten piles and piles of medical bills from his long recovery. Which led to him having to find a part time job as a mechanic besides his little dealing business. 

Oh! And how could he forget? The police department was still investigating him about the murders from last year. 

Between that, his job, the incessant crawls every week, and his therapy–both physical and psychological–he had absolutely no time to host hellfire anymore. Dustin had tried to keep it alive, but bless his soul, no one compares to Eddie Munson when it comes to being DM. 

But last week, by some miracle, he’d finally, finally been cleared as “innocent” due to lack of evidence and was able to start living a normal life again. His therapy sessions had been reduced to once every two weeks, and he’d also repaired a few fancy cars that earned him a pretty juicy commission. 

So yeah. Things were finally looking up for him after whatever the hell ‘86 was. 

So, with a pep in his step, he walked through the doors of the WSQK headquarters holding a cardboard box with all his stuff for that day’s campaign. Robin had told him they had a spare room on the back, and Steve said he could go earlier to set everything up. He even whistled as he strolled through the empty hallways of the radio station.

He saw two doors at the end, figuring he’d open both and find out which one he was supposed to settle in. 

But as all Munsons tend to run out of luck at some point, it seems like the curse finally hit him again when he opened the wrong one and changed the course of his entire fucking life. 

Because what he didn’t expect, what absolutely no one warned him about, was that you and Steve liked to use the storage closet to fuck like bunnies before anyone arrived at the station. 

He froze at the door, the box in his hand hanging on for dear life as he took in the scene in front of him. 

There you were. 

Propped up on a stack of cardboard boxes with Steve between your legs, your skirt was bunched around your hips, and your knees high on his waist. Your face was flushed, hair a mess and you were letting out choked little gasps because you couldn’t form words anymore.

Eddie’s heart stopped. He might’ve as well died for real this time. 

You let out a startled sound, grabbing Steve’s shoulders to hide yourself the second you saw Eddie standing there. Steve just glanced back over his shoulder, not even bothering to stop. 

“Dude. Do you mind?” 

Eddie slammed the door shut.

He walked out of WSQK like he’d seen a ghost. Didn’t even say a word to Dustin, who was just pulling up on his bike. 

He just got in his van, and drove straight into the woods far enough to be alone. And for the next ten minutes, the only sound in that van was the furious pumping of his hard cock into his hand and his broken, desperate moans repeating something.

Your name. Again. And again.

And again.

Then, after going back and giving a poor excuse to his boys as to why he couldn’t host that day and had to leave immediately (one that actually meant sorry guys! Gotta jerk off like 10 more times!) He went to repeat the same routine back at the small place Wayne managed to rent after the “earthquakes” had destroyed his trailer. 

He turned off the lights of the room he called his now. Lit a blunt just for something to do with his free hand. Threw on a loud tape to drown out the grunts and the pathetic moaning, and his fist went to town–again–to the memory of you.

The way you looked in that closet.

The arch of your back against the boxes. The sound of your voice breaking as you moaned his name–not Eddie’s, no, the one you belonged to. Steve. The way your fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer, as if he wasn’t deep enough. And your face…

God. Your fucking face.

Blissed out and flushed, swollen lips parted, eyes half-lidded and completely lost in it. No cheap porn film he’d ever watched compared to that. No–you were the most obscene thing Eddie had ever seen in his life and it was burned into him now. Engraved into the insides of his lids. No amount of blinking could unsee it. 

No amount of jerking off could erase it. 

(He tried. Many times.)

People had sex all the time. This shouldn’t be on his head 24/7. But…Eddie couldn’t believe that was you. 

He’d always seen you as soft. As the sweet girl giggling at Steve’s dumb jokes while playing with his stupid perfect hair. As the one who would mediate when a crawl meeting got too heated when someone didn’t agree with the plan. As the one who always listened to everyone…even him. 

You even called him Eds once, so softly, that he’d walked around with chest pain for a full day like a goddamn lovesick teenager. 

But now?

Now he couldn’t stop imagining how your voice sounded when it wasn't innocent. Couldn’t stop remembering how your legs looked parted open, how your thighs shook as Steve thrusted harshly into you. 

He should’ve known better though, that was on him. He should’ve known that someone who once held the title of “King Steve” would be the one to corrupt a girl like you. 

Who wouldn’t want to? 

He couldn’t stop wondering what it’d feel like to be the one between your legs. To have you whimpering like that. To see you fall apart and know he did that. That he got you that high, that far gone…that wrecked.

He was fucking haunted by the fantasy. And it wasn’t lust, it was worse than that. It was curiosity, obsession, need.

The need to be the one who fucks the sweetness out of you. 

But now you were probably curled up in Steve’s bed, fast asleep on his hairy chest, wearing one of his shirts and dreaming about getting fucked by him, while Eddie dreamt of you after he didn’t have anything left to milk out.

He dreamt of your hand in his curls. Your thighs around his waist. Your voice in his ear breaking with his name over and over and…over. 

Eddie tried to be normal after that. God, he tried. 

At least you seemed to be normal. You walked into Thursday movie night at Nancy’s like nothing had happened, dropping onto the couch next to Steve with a bag of popcorn, listening to whatever Robin said, still sweet and smiley and wearing one of Steve’s jackets. 

He told himself not to stare. Repeated it like a goddamn mantra.

Don’t look, Munson. Don’t fucking look. You’ll just embarrass yourself. You’ll make it weird. 

But then your eyes met, and you smiled at him, and…Eddie forgot his own name.

His mouth opened, but no words came out. Just a squeak that could’ve been the start of a sentence, or a heart attack. He pretended to cough into his fist and buried himself deeper into the armchair. 

And Steve? Oh he noticed. 

Not just Eddie’s reaction, but all of it. The way Eddie’s eyes had locked onto you from the moment you walked in. The way they dropped lower every time you shifted. The way his fingers gripped the armrest. 

And the weird part? Steve didn’t get mad. He just smirked, knowingly, even amused by the whole thing. 

The next time something altered Eddie’s brain chemistry, was at the diner. 

He’d arrived late, mainly because he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to go in the first place, but the thought of seeing your smile was enough to convince him to walk through that door, and soon it was just him, Robin, and the perfect couple. 

Eddie looked at you from across the booth, wearing an outfit that he was sure would ruin his life later when he was alone back in his room. You were sipping from your milkshake, the pink straw pressed between your lips, as you let out a hum of contempt at the sweet taste. All Eddie could think was that could be something else.

Thank God for Robin’s need to ramble about everything that happened on her date with Vicky that weekend, that you and Steve were focused on her and not on Eddie’s anxious leg bouncing under the table. 

Or at least that’s what he thought. 

“Eds, take some fries,” you offered sweetly when Robin ran out of air, pushing the plate you’d been eating from with Steve toward him. 

Eddie hadn’t ordered anything, he wasn’t hungry–at least not for actual food–and of course you’d noticed and offered him some of your own. 

“Yeah man, go ahead,” Steve chimed in with a smile that was enough to freak him out. “I don’t mind sharing,” he added with a shrug, placing an arm around your shoulders, hazel eyes piercing into Eddie’s with a devilish glint. 

The implication left Eddie frozen in place, hand hovering over the fries as you began talking with Robin again, unaware of the way your boyfriend’s comment had left Eddie stunned. 

Steve didn’t say anything else. Just kept looking at him, head tilted, like he knew something. Like he felt it now. 

The shift. 

Eddie almost got up and left, but then he caught Steve’s eyes, and the bastard just winked.

Jesus Christ. 

You’re still breathless when Steve flips you onto your back again, mind stuck somewhere between heaven and passing out as your sore body still feels every inch of him buried deep inside you. 

He drapes you across his chest knowing you can’t hold yourself up anymore, bare skin sticky with sweat, your cheek pressed over his heartbeat. Steve's hand goes to your thigh, fingers brushing softly where he’d held you down minutes ago. 

You don’t want to move. You never want to after he’s done with you. So you just cling tightly to him, letting out a dreamy sigh and nuzzling closer, planting a soft kiss over his racing heart.

Steve smiles, shifting just enough to see your blissed out face. “You okay over there?”

“Mmhm,” you hum. “Can’t feel my soul. Congratulations, Harrington.”

That makes him chuckle. He kisses the top of your head. “Anytime, baby.” 

As his room settles into silence and you begin drifting off in his arms before he can drag you into taking a shower, Steve’s chest vibrates against your skin when he speaks again. 

“Hey,” he whispers, absentmindedly playing with your hair which doesn’t help your heavy eyelids closing. 

“Hmm?” 

“Do you ever notice the way Eddie looks at you?”

Your eyes blink open immediately. 

You don’t say anything at first. Just start tracing lazy little circles on a particular scar on his ribs, pretending to think about it, but you already know the answer. 

“Yeah,” you smile, “I’ve noticed.”

Steve hums, hand still resting on your thigh.

“It’s probably just a silly little crush,” you add, as if you didn’t know how Eddie’s voice breaks every time you spare a glance at him. Or the way his hands shake when you ask him to hand you a drink on movie night. “He’s just… traumatized from the time he caught us back at the station,” you chuckle. 

“Oh, baby. You should’ve seen his face in that closet.” Steve snorts. “You were extra loud that day, you really put on a show for him–the lucky bastard.” 

“What?” You ask, straightening up on his chest. “You knew he was going to get there earlier?”

“I was hoping he got there earlier."

You smack his arm with your mouth wide open, but a smile tugs at your lips. He grins like the bastard he is, shifting to ease you again into his embrace. 

“Don’t worry baby, I might have a way to fix him right back up,” he says smugly, those impossible hazel eyes glinting with mischief. “…Remember that talk we had a while back? Couple months ago. About maybe…bringing in a third?”

Your heart thumps so fast against your chest that you’re sure Steve can feel it on his. 

“…Yeah,” you say. “I remember.”

“What if…it was him?” He shrugs, like he’s discussing what movie to watch. “I’m just saying, we’ve both noticed. And maybe…” His hand drifts lower down your thigh, finding that place where you’re still sensitive. “Maybe it’s fun to imagine what he’d do if we invited him.”

His fingers press against your wet folds, easily sliding in and drawing a gasp out of you. His eyebrows shoot up, like he’d managed exactly what he wanted. 

“See? Don't you want to show him again how pretty you sound?”

Maybe it’s the overstimulation of Steve fingers pumping in and out of your pussy like he hadn’t absolutely wrecked it minutes prior, that the word comes out of your mouth before you can stop it. 

“Yes,” you exhale in a shaky moan. 

The thought alone thrills you. Because the truth is, you’ve been feeling it as much as Steve has. You've been wanting it as much as Steve has. 

The forbidden. 

Because it is fun to imagine. You guiding Eddie’s hand. Steve watching and telling you what to do. You crying out between the two of them.

God. 

“So…Eddie?” You pant, unsure if you’re asking or you're moaning out his name just to try it out on your lips. 

Steve just smirks. 

“Yeah,” he says, pumping faster. “Eddie.”

The moment that sealed Eddie’s fate was a random Thursday. 

He should’ve known better. 

The second you said movie night was at your place, he should’ve backed out. Should’ve faked a headache or a gig or even a freak accident involving his uncle.

Anything.

But–like the fucking idiot he was–he’d walked right through your front door that night. 

You’d picked a shitty movie on purpose. Something slow without any action scenes, full of long silences and artistic shots that made Robin snore into the couch cushion, with Nancy and Jonathan falling right behind. 

Steve sat beside you the whole time, like always, hand on your thigh, like always. Looking casual, almost innocent.

Eddie was on the floor, sitting too close to the TV just so he wouldn’t look at you. 

He’d been too busy picking at the skin of his thumb and lost into the mazes of his head, that he didn’t notice you’d disappeared with Steve until he glanced over to the couches and only found the girls and Jonathan dead to the world. 

He sat there for a few more minutes pretending to care about the stupid movie, but then–like a fucking idiot, again–he decided to get up, quietly leaving the room like he was going to the kitchen.

He took a hard left to the stairs instead. 

Eddie knew where your bedroom was. He’d been there before when you’d asked him to bring more blankets on movie night a few months ago. He still remembers the cute little nightlight plugged into the wall. 

As he tiptoed to the top of the stairs like a freak, the hall was dark, but a sliver of light came out of your room through the slightly open door. 

Eddie dragged his feet on the carpet, guided by shushing voices and a noise of what he was sure was the creak of a bed. Once he reached, he braced himself for the scene he was about to encounter as he peeked through the door, but no amount of breathing techniques could have ever prepared him for the image before his eyes. 

Oh, fuck.

You were on your stomach, face pressed into the mattress, Steve standing behind you with both hands gripping your hips. Your ass–god, your ass–lifted high to meet every thrust. 

Your skirt was bunched around your waist, panties pushed to the side, but nothing really hid you from the pervert on the door. Not even Steve’s body blocked the view of him disappearing into your dripping pussy, filling you so deep Eddie could see it, see the way your walls opened for him. 

The nightlight glowed behind you, casting just enough light to make it worse. 

Pink and soft and obscene.

Eddie’s eyes went over the curve of your spine. The shake of your thighs. Your fingers twisting in the floral sheets, holding on for dear life as your body kept being pushed forward. 

And the sounds. Jesus Christ, the sounds.

“Steve,” you gasped, “please–more–don’t stop.”

“Shhh baby, I know,” Steve cooed behind you, doing the exact opposite of what you asked and stopped. “But you gotta keep it down, don’t want to wake up your guests do you?” 

The fucking hypocrite then slammed back into you so hard the headboard bumped the wall. You moaned–no, cried out, trying to muffle it against the sheets as Eddie bit down his fist just to keep himself from making a sound. 

“Oh baby, you wanna be loud?” Steve chuckled, as he kept thrusting hard. “Go on then, I want to hear you.” 

“I–fuck–I love your cock, Steve” you choked the words out. “‘S–s’ so deep.”

Eddie froze at the crack of the door, heart pounding out of his chest as he watched you getting fucked within an inch of your life. 

The sweet girl. The sun. The angel he thought he knew. Gripping her sheets like a sinner. Moaning filth like she wanted the guests to hear.

Maybe you wanted him to hear. 

Eddie’s hand slipped inside his jeans, he couldn't stop himself. Not after that. He stroked himself fast and hard and desperate, watching your body take it, and your mouth beg for it. 

It didn’t take long for Eddie to come harder than he’d ever had in his life. He made a mess in his hand, his pants, and he was sure some of his cum dripped onto the carpet below, but he was too high and too far gone to care. 

He nearly collapsed against the stairs wall as he rushed back down, panting, already half hard again within seconds. 

The movie was still rolling, the guys were still fast asleep, but he had been changed forever–once again. 

Seriously, who the hell leaves the door open? Or unlocked? For two people who seemed to fuck like bunnies none of it made sense. 

Unless…you’d wanted him to watch. 

Eddie was in the middle of jerking off when someone started pounding on his front door. 

Of course.

He’d found his rhythm, music blasting, hips grinding into his palm, eyes squeezed shut and in his head, his filthy, freaky little head, you kept running your dirty mouth over and over. 

He’d been at it for twenty minutes. Maybe more. His dick was red and raw but he didn’t care because the only thing worse than jerking off to the memory of you was not jerking off to it.

Bang, bang, bang.

“Jesus–fuck,” he curses, pulling up his briefs with a groan, finding a pair of jeans from the floor as the knocking continues.

“EDDIE!!” A familiar voice calls over the music. 

Oh no. 

Eddie walks out of his room shirtless, crosses the hall in dragged strides, and opens the door wide enough to peek out, and yeah, there he is.

Steve fucking Harrington.

The absolute last person on earth he wanted to catch him red handed with his dick in his hand fantasizing about his girlfriend.

“Hey, man,” Eddie manages, clearing his throat when his voice cracks a little. “Uh…what’s up?” 

“Hey!” Steve beams, that preppy boy smile spreading wide on his face. “Mind if I come in?”

Eddie hesitates only for a second, then opens the door wider and steps back. Steve walks in, glances around, his gaze landing on Eddie’s bedroom. More specifically, on the bottle of lotion on his nightstand and the constellation of crumpled paper tissues on the floor next to his bed. 

Steve chuckles. “Sorry man, didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

“Wh–what?”

“You know. That thing you were doing.” Steve smirks, nodding his head toward the room. “Thinking about my girl?”

Eddie’s whole face goes red. “Dude, what the fuck–”

“You like her,” Steve says plainly, not as a question, not mad, not teasing. Just a matter of fact. “I know you’ve always liked her. But now you’ve seen her like I have. And now you can’t stop thinking about her.”

Eddie stands frozen in the middle of the living room, unsure of what he’s supposed to say to save his case. Although, given the evidence, there isn’t much to hope for. 

“Is this the part where you punch me?” Eddie asks, almost bracing for the impact. 

But Steve just laughs in his face. 

“No, man. No punches.” He shakes his head, amused. “You know…she likes it when you stare.”

You like it when he stares? You know he stares? 

“Alright Harrington, if you wanna hit me, just do it. Don’t fuck with me.” Eddie chuckles bitterly, already wishing he could just go back to his little twisted fantasies instead of hearing this bullshit. 

“Don’t you get what I’m saying Eddie?”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “No…?”

Steve sighs, then steps closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m saying…she wants you to fuck her.”

There’s a moment of deafening silence where Eddie questions if he actually speaks the English language, because there’s no fucking way in the world he heard that right. 

“...What??” 

“She does,” Steve repeats, then chuckles again, “Hell, even I want you to fuck her.”

“You’re not being serious,” Eddie accuses, backing off from Steve’s grasp to pace in circles with his hands on his hips. 

“Fucking hell man,” Steve groans. “Look–I’ve seen the way you look at her. And I get it, okay? She’s a dream, I know.” He laughs, but Eddie keeps pacing like a madman, shaking his head. “Dude–you ever wonder what she tastes like when she’s already come twice?”

That makes him stop right in his tracks. He turns to Steve in disbelief, but once again he doesn’t see anger, or teasing. He’s genuinely asking him if he fantasizes about his girlfriend. 

“Man, I wonder about everything,” Eddie finally blurts out, exhaling like he just lifted a weight off his chest that’s been dragging him down for weeks. 

Steve grins. 

“I wouldn’t offer you this if I didn’t trust you with her.” 

He walks closer to Eddie–again–but this time he doesn’t place his hand on his shoulder, just looks at him dead in the eye as his grin turns darker. 

“You’d be gentle with her, wouldn’t you, Eddie?” He asks, pupils taking over the hazel of his eyes. “You wouldn’t fuck her too hard the first time, right? She’s too sensitive after–and trust me, you’re gonna want her to keep going.”

Eddie is speechless for the 124378th time in that month. Which should be an achievement, considering he likes to talk as much as Robin does. 

“I’m not gonna say it twice, Munson.” Steve lifts a hand to clap him on the shoulder. “But she really wants it. So are you in?”

Eddie doesn’t even think anymore. He just nods frantically. 

Oh, he’s so in.

Oh, he’s so having a full blown existential crisis. 

He hadn’t slept the night before. Who could sleep after that conversation? Steve, poster boy for everything Eddie is not, just casually walked into his place, dropping that line like it was no big deal: 

She wants you to fuck her.

Which is how he ended up now, standing outside your goddamn house, sweating through his jacket and wondering if he’d actually never woken up from the demobats attack and this was all a coma dream. 

Because now you apparently wanted him.

In your house. In your bed.

On those stupidly adorable floral sheets he couldn’t stop thinking about. That’s what he came thinking about. That’s what he dreamed about every night. 

Steve’d said to just “roll by tonight.” Well, tonight is here, and Eddie stands outside the door contemplating his options. 

Does he knock? Does he just open it and walk into a fucking orgy?

Jesus. 

He adjusts his jacket, runs a hand through his curly hair, and tells himself it’s going to be fine. He’s already been through things someone his age should never have to in their entire lifetime. Strange things. He can handle a little threesome.

Right?

He rings the doorbell before he chickens out like he’s done his whole life. 

Eddie hears footsteps approaching the front door. He expects you, for some reason, but instead it’s Steve who opens it, shirtless, barefoot, only wearing some sweatpants, and smiling bright as if he’d just invited Eddie over to watch some sports game.

“Hey, dude! Glad you made it,” he beams, stepping aside.

Eddie walks through the threshold, and stops in the middle of the entrance hall pressing his lips tight. 

“You want water or something?” Steve offers casually, noticing Eddie’s looking around nervously. “She’s upstairs. All ready.”

“She’s what?”

“All ready,” Steve repeats with a grin. “You know, for you.”

Steve laughs at Eddie’s loss for words, claps him reassuringly on the back, and gestures toward the stairs.

 “Come on, man. Don’t leave her waiting.”

He walks up the stairs with Steve trailing behind. Eddie’s already hard under his ripped jeans, stopping right outside your door thinking what on earth does ready for me mean?

Are you naked? Are you touching yourself? Do you know how hard he is? Can you feel him on the other side of the door?

He can even see the damn nightlight is on behind it. His hand hovers over the doorknob, but for one second, the doubt comes crawling back in.

What if this is a joke? What if he opens the door and all your friends are inside pointing at him and laughing like “Look who actually believed it! You’re a pervert, Eddie!”

Wouldn’t be the first time someone pulls a cruel prank on him–or calls him that. Wouldn’t even be the worst. But–

“You gonna open it, Eddie? Or are you too scared of my girl?” Steve’s teasing voice cuts off his spiraling thoughts. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, finally twists the knob, and he swears time slows down when he sees you there. 

You’re sitting–no, half kneeling on the bed in the center of the room. Those floral sheets are bunched under your knees. And you’re wearing a little dainty lace set. The fabric is barely there, but the little bows on the straps make it sweet enough for Eddie’s mouth to go dry. Your exposed skin looks soft under the warm pink glow the nightlight casts against the walls. 

You’re all ready for him. 

Eddie nearly fucking dies. Again. 

You smile when you see him. It’s soft and warm and welcoming, like always. Except–nearly naked. Not like he hadn’t seen your guts getting rearranged about two times too much these past weeks anyways. 

“Hi, Eds,” you say, waving your hand as if you aren’t currently rewiring his entire nervous system.

He stands frozen in the doorway as Steve brushes past him, casual as hell. He walks straight up to you, bends down just enough to pet your chin with two fingers, making you laugh softly. 

“Hi again, baby,” Steve whispers sweetly. “Let’s give him a warm welcome, hm?”

You hum in agreement, watching Steve walk away and drop onto the puff in the corner of the room, manspreading like a king waiting for his entertainment to start. 

But Eddie…Eddie’s still standing by the door like 🧍🏻

“So uh…what–what are the rules?” He stammers. “Or, like boundaries? Or–fuck, I don’t know, a safe word?”

He means it for him, of course. 

You cover your mouth to stifle a laugh. “Oh my god. Eddie, you're adorable.”

Steve is not as delicate as you, “Dude,” he snorts. “You can’t be serious. Relax. No one's handing out instructions.” 

Eddie shifts anxiously on his feet. “I–there should be instructions.”

When the hell has ever cared about those? 

“You’re here to make her feel good, that’s it.” Steve says quite harshly, crossing his arms over his chest, then looks at you and everything in him softens. “You decide how far he goes, baby.” 

You melt. Right there on the bed. Blow him a kiss and then turn your full attention to the very shy boy at your doorstep. 

“It’s okay, Eddie. Can you come closer?” You ask, extending your arm and gesturing toward the bed. 

Eddie gives one step, that’s all he manages.

You smile wider, just enough to coax him. “Closer, Eddie. Please.”

Fuck.

He takes another step, then another, until he’s right by the edge of the bed, so close he can see the pattern of the fine lace of your lingerie, the way your chest rises when you breathe, the way you’re giving him the most deadly case of bedroom eyes he’s ever seen in his entire life. 

You don’t look shy, or unsure, you look…eager. 

Before he can overthink it, you slide off the bed to round him, and gently push his chest to sit down. Eddie falls easily, his body already knowing it’s not in charge anymore. The mattress dips under his weight, bouncing softly along with the curls in his head. 

“Kick those shoes off,” you say. 

He obeys. Oh–he obeys. A little clumsily, but they’re off in less than three seconds.

Only then you climb onto his lap. Eddie’s breath comes out in a shaky exhale when your ass lands on his thighs. His hands hover uselessly at his sides. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t really dare yet. He doesn’t even know where to look. His eyes dart from your shoulder to the wall to Steve, who has now thrown his arms behind his head like he’s watching his favorite movie.

“Well, don’t mind me,” he says. “Just enjoying the show.”

You cradle Eddie’s face to get his attention back to you. All he can think is your hands are warm, and too soft for his own good. Your thumbs brush his cheeks in such a normal, easy way, that still feels deeply intimate. 

“Pretty boy,” you whisper, smiling at him. “Such pretty eyes.”

Eddie’s heart does an entire somersault routine. He can feel the little feet of the people inside his head running around to process the compliment. 

We’re starting already???

He doesn’t even finish that line of thought when you lean in and kiss him. The kiss is slow and unrushed, but so so passionate. Your soft lips move against his, showing him you know exactly what you’re doing. Eddie melts into it instantly. He kisses you back desperately, starving, because he’d been feeling withdrawal for something he never had, and now–holy shit now he’s finally getting his fix.

Still, he doesn’t touch. Not until you take his wrists and guide them yourself, first on your waist, but then trailing down, lower, to where the lace sits and barely covers anything. His hands pinch your skin when he realizes what he’s touching. 

You.

“Oh,” he breathes in to the kiss, and had you known Eddie let out those pretty little sounds, you'd have brought him in sooner. 

You smile against his mouth and roll your hips, just a little, just to get more out. Grabbing him by the collar of his jacket, you grind down on him. Slow at first, just gentle little moves that made Eddie’s head tip back, and a symphony of broken sounds left his throat. Every grind of your body made his cock throb harder against his jeans. His eyes went between your chest, your mouth and the way your lashes fluttered when you finally found the spot. 

“Jesus–fuck yes, use me angel.” 

He didn’t even realize he’d said it out loud until you let out a little whimper at the pet name, and picked up the pace. 

You are used to terms of endearment from Steve, he’s the sweetest with you, but never in the years of your relationship has he ever called you something so divine as angel.  

Alas, your boyfriend still knows you better than anyone. You keep moving on top of Eddie, and even though his hard cock under the jeans is already making you see stars, there’s something…missing. By this point Steve’s fingers would already be deep inside you without even having to ask. 

Across the room, he watches your frantic moves and hears your moans getting needier. Eddie doesn't notice at first, but he does.

“Hey man,” he calls casually. “Play with her.”

Eddie, too lost in the way you keep rolling your hips, blinks like he misheard. “–What?”

Steve chuckles, “She’s used to it. Go on, don’t make her wait.”

Eddie turns back to you, but you don’t say anything, just look at him, chest rising faster, lips parted, a thin sheen of sweat starting to gather at your temples. And when his eyes search yours for permission, you nod.

That’s all it takes. Eddie’s hand slides down your stomach, dipping lower and lower, until he finds the paradise between your legs.

Oh fuck. 

“Baby–you’re soaking through my jeans,” he groans, trailing the wet patch seeping through your panties. 

You giggle, but the second his fingers go past the lace and brush over your clit, you let out the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. A little gasp of surprise, hips bucking slightly since you've been waiting for him to touch you right there all night.

Eddie almost comes in his pants. “Jesus–you’re perfect.”

He doesn't slide his fingers in yet, he doesn't need to, your slick is already dripping onto his jeans, smearing over his rings. You just grind into his hand, chasing your high. Every sound you make goes straight to his dick, every breath, every flutter of your lashes, every soft whimper of his name. He’s about to put a finger in when–

“Stop.”

Eddie freezes at your firm voice, his hand stills as panic takes over his chest. “Did I–did I do something wrong?”

Steve’s already standing from the couch, ready to lift you off Eddie’s lap if you need him to. But you just let out a sweet little laugh and shake your head. 

“No, you’re perfect. I want you to take your shirt off first,” you shrug, as if you hadn't caused both men a near heart attack. 

Steve exhales, muttering something about “always testing him” as he plops back onto the puff. You smile at him apologetically, he just shakes his head pretending to be annoyed but you see the smile tugging at his lips. 

“Oh,” Eddie says, blinking a few times before actually breathing again. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that, sweetheart.”

He fumbles a little, taking off his vest first, then his jacket, then–he hesitates for a second. It’s not that he’s insecure about his chest, but his tattoos now have fresh new roommates in the shape of multiple scars scattered across his skin from where he’d been attacked. And he doesn’t know how you’ll react to them.

You notice the doubt flashing across his eyes as his hands stop reaching for the shirt. “Are you okay, Eddie?” You ask, and now you’re the one wondering if you did something wrong.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, trying to not sound too pathetic. “It’s just–my…my scars,” he says, avoiding your gaze. 

You hum softly, “Steve has them too.”

Eddie’s head perks up at that, and his eyes go to the shirtless man on the couch. 

“Yeah man,” Steve breathes, straightening up, pointing at the lovely little bite marks the bats had left on his skin. 

Eddie squints and sees them washed in the glow of the nightlamp. He’d been so busy freaking the hell out when he arrived that he hadn’t even noticed that Steve’s chest indeed had marks. But not as many as him, and at least the hair around it makes up for it, he’s not sure his pale chest–

“Eddie…” You cup his face to gently guide it towards you. “You can keep your shirt on if you feel more comfortable that way, but know that I don’t care about what’s under there. I just want to feel your skin closer,” you reassure.

Eddie almost proposes right there and then. 

Okay–maybe he’s getting ahead of himself. But shit. He decides it’s wiser to just nod, and peels off his shirt in one rough pull. You look him in the eyes before looking down, and he nods again. Your eyes go down his bare chest, pale as you expected, not as filled out as Steve’s, and not nearly as hairy–but the tattoos and the scars make him the most badass rockstar you’d ever seen.

Eddie’s breath stills as you look at him like you like what you see. Like he’s the prettiest thing in the room. And then you make sure he hears it. 

“You’re so pretty, Eddie,” you smile, pulling him in for another kiss. Your hands smooth over his skin, fingers tracing the tattoos on his chest, the scars down his sides, the happy trail leading to a happier place. “So hot.”

You whine into the kiss, hips rolling again making him forget about the fact that he’s shirtless in front of you and instead he remembers–right. His fingers.

Eddie reaches for you, pulling your panties to the side again. He slides two fingers between your folds, slow enough to drink every second of the way your jaw drops when you feel his rings deep inside you, the way your eyes flutter shut, how you let out a desperate little sound that goes straight to his cock.

“Eds…” you moan, walls clenching around fingers and metal.

“You feel–fuck, baby, you feel so good…so tight…” 

He finds his rhythm easily, all insecurities set aside by how fast you’re falling apart on his fingers.  

Eddie knows what he’s doing. Those hands–those guitarist fingers don’t play. They move with instinct, with intention. His fingers curl, dragging quickly through your walls before pressing back in. The rings are a plus, cold metal against heat, and you gasp when one of them hits the spot. 

“Oh–Eddie–”

“That’s it angel, keep dripping all over me,” he coos, pumping harder. “Can feel you clenching when I talk like this. You like being a good girl for me?”

You nod, it’s all you can do. Steve just watches. Watches the way your body moves. The way your face twists with pleasure. The way your mouth drops open with every stroke. 

But he catches something else. He always does. 

Your head tips forward, forehead pressing into Eddie’s shoulder, breaths coming out in little broken sounds against Eddie’s skin as he works every inch of you. You keep grinding your hips, chasing more even as it starts to overwhelm you. A sudden wave makes your moan turn into a whimper, and your nails dig on his shoulder instinctively pushing him away. 

You cry out, that’s when Steve speaks.

“Hey–easy, Munson,” he calls out, not angry, but still firm enough that it makes Eddie slow down. “Remember what I said about going easy the first time? You go too rough too soon and she’s gonna be shaking for the rest of the night.”

“Sorry–” Eddie says immediately, but you cut him off. 

“It’s okay, Eds. We’re still learning each other,” you reassure, still giving him that dazed, happy look. He exhales in relief. “Just…a little slower, that’s all. I’m not really used to the rings.” You say it so sweetly, that he just nods like a little puppy eager to please. 

“You’ll get used to them soon, sweetheart. Promise.”

He pulls his fingers back in slower, watching your face the whole time, memorizing every reaction. It doesn't take long before you’re grinding his hand again and letting out soft moans of pleasure as you find a more comfortable rhythm. 

“There you go,,” Steve chuckles, approving. “She’s squeezing you, isn’t she?”

Eddie chuckles back, because he can feel how close you are. Your forehead presses into his shoulder again, mouth brushing his skin as you let out a sound that’s half gasp, half moan. 

“Hmm, that sound,” Steve hums, leaning further into the puff, stroking over his crotch. “She sounds like that when she’s about to come.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, curling his fingers just right. “Are you close, angel?”

You whimper, hiding your face knowing exactly what they are talking about, but it only makes it hotter for both men to see you like that. 

“Don’t you wanna tell him, baby?” Steve asks from his spot, but all that comes out of your mouth is another moan against Eddie’s shoulder. “Hey–eyes on me.”

You obey, turning to meet those wide, hazel eyes. You’re barely holding it together, already breathless. A literal mess on Eddie’s fingers.

But Steve just smiles, wide and bright when you look at him. “Now tell him what you need, sweetheart.”

Your eyes keep locked on your boyfriend as you whisper, “I–I wanna come, Eds…please.”

“Then come, baby. Drench my fucking rings,” he groans in your ear. His raw voice and another curl of his fingers is what gets you there. 

Your whole body tenses when the orgasm hits. You let out a broken moan that vibrates in Eddie’s chest and your walls clench around his fingers so tight he thinks you might break them. Your wetness coats his rings, soaks into your panties, his jeans, everywhere. 

You collapse, arms flailing to hold on to him, but before Eddie can catch you, you’re already falling back.

“Whoa, hey–” Eddie’s arms scramble to hold you, but Steve is faster.

He’s behind you instantly, steadying you with one hand on your back, the other cupping the back of your head easing you back into Eddie’s lap. 

“She goes all soft after,” Steve says, with that fondness he always uses when referring to you. “You gotta hold her up for a second.”

Eddie’s arms wrap around you immediately, as you curl into him still trying to catch your breath. Steve leans to see you, brushing your hair back. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead that makes you smile. 

“Hey,” he whispers, eyes scanning your flushed face. “You okay?”

You nod against Eddie’s chest.

“You wanna keep going?” 

You nod again.

“Words, baby,” Steve coaxes, and you let out a little breathless giggle when he pinches your side.

“I do,” you whisper, loud enough for both to hear. Then you turn to him. “Thank you.”

For catching me. For checking on me. For letting another man fuck me while you watch.

You don’t even have to say it out loud for Steve to know what you’re thinking. He just brushes your cheek, with an amused smile on his face. “Anytime, baby.”

You shift on Eddie’s lap, turning back to him, lips brushing his cheek before placing your hands on his chest to look at those pretty brown eyes. “Thank you too, Eds. You made me feel so good.”

“Y-Yeah?”

You hum, patting the spider tattoo on his left peck. Once you feel like you regained your strength back again, you slide off his lap and drop to your knees in front of him.

“That’s my girl.” Steve praises. So pretty on her knees.” 

He rounds the bed to grab a small pillow, then drops it to the floor next to your knees, nudging it with his foot until you shift just enough to be on top of it. You lean to kiss the back of his hand as a silent thank you. 

Eddie is too busy remembering how to breathe for the 100th time to say anything. 

You settle between Eddie’s legs, hands resting on his thighs, your lashes fluttering as you look up with all your attention back on him. “I wanna thank you properly.”

Eddie laughs nervously, then whistles low. “Shit–then go ahead, sweetheart.”

Your fingers go to his belt–because of course he wore a fucking belt–and Steve chuckles from your side, one judging eyebrow raised. “Why did you even wear a belt, dude?”

“I thought I was coming over to watch, not to get fucking blessed,” Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, pushing himself up to help you lower his pants. 

His ass barely touches the mattress when your hands are already tugging his briefs. He laughs, out of sheer nerves and excitement, lifting again to take off the last piece covering him. 

He springs out.

And just as you thought. Just as you dreamed, he’s big. Eddie fucking Munson is packing a thick, flushed pink, already leaking cock just inches away from your face. 

Pretty boy with pretty eyes and an even prettier dick. 

You let out a sweet, pleased little dreamy sigh, when you feel his heaviness in your hand. “So pretty,” you praise, then lean in and press a soft kiss to the tip of his cock.

You reach out, eager, hand wrapping around him to guide him toward your mouth like a lollipop. Eddie makes a noise no one in that room knew he was capable of.

Eddie sees heaven. Sees the clouds, hears all the symphonies and shit. 

“Jesus fuck–”

Steve steps behind you again, crouching down. He runs his fingers over your spine, drawing delicate circles that don’t match the words that come out of his mouth. 

“You think you can take another, baby?” He asks, kissing the back of your neck. “Getting bored of just watching…”

You glance back at him, hand still wrapped around Eddie’s cock, and look down to see the fabric of his pants barely containing his. 

“Let me take care of you too, babe,” you chuckle, lifting your free hand to reach sideways, tugging Steve’s sweats and briefs down in one pull. He steps forward, letting you take him in your hand like you’ve done a hundred times. 

Now you have two, very hard, very beautiful, very yours, dicks in your hands. 

You give Steve one long, wet stroke with your tongue that makes him drop his head back and groan. Then, with a little giggle, you turn and give Eddie the same treatment. 

“Fucking hell, Harrington,” he gasps.

Steve smiles, watching you go from one the other, teasing both. “Oh, I know.” He cups the back of your head, stroking your hair. “Show him, baby. Show him how good you are.”

You hum with Eddie in your mouth, the sound vibrating just enough to make him curse under his breath.

You begin taking turns. Your lips are glossy and warm and full, as you switch between them. 

Steve. Then back to Eddie. Then back to Steve again.

Your hand stroking one while your lips wrap around the other. Back and forth. Eddie’s thighs start shaking with the effort of not coming in the first thirty seconds of this glorious torture. 

He’d never seen anything like it. 

He has both hands fisted in the floral sheets, barely keeping himself together as you take him halfway down and then pull away with a soft, wet pop that makes his vision go white, only to switch to the one who’s supposed to be your man. 

And if it wasn’t enough, Steve hands reach behind your back when you put him in your mouth, bending over you with his cock so going deep it makes you gag, to unclasp your bra, freeing your titties for both of them. 

He’s fighting for his soul at this point. 

You split apart from Steve, taking a deep breath to recover from his dick touching the back of your throat, and wipe your mouth before looking up at Eddie with a smile. 

“Hey Steve?” You call, eyes fixed on Eddie’s to catch his reaction. “Why don’t you get the camera?”

The…camera???

“Wait–what?”

“Don’t you want a little souvenir?” You tease, titling your head. 

“What the fuck–what–do I want a–?”

“Steve likes it,” you shrug. 

“Oh yeah,” Steve chuckles, already crossing to the bookshelf in the corner of your room. “I like it–but she loves it, man,” he adds smugly, 

“You have photos…doing it?”

“Whooole collection.” Steve drawls, finding what he was looking for. “You’d go crazy.” 

He is going crazy. 

Steve walks back over holding a black Polaroid camera, and hands it directly to Eddie, who’s still gripping onto the sheets for dear life. 

“I–” He stammers, looking at you. 

You shrug. “My hands are busy,” you smile apologetically, too damn sweet for the situation. 

Eddie finally takes the camera after a deep exhale, and leans back to lift it. He frames your pretty face between his thighs, lips parted open, spit shining on his cock. Then your mouth wraps around his tip again, and Eddie moans, loud and shaky, nearly dropping the camera.

He captures the grip of your lips, the way your tongue flicks over his slit, the stretch of your mouth when you sink deeper. Then you pull away and take Steve into your mouth instead, and Eddie moves the camera closer, watching your throat move, your hand still stroking him at the base.

It’s a miracle you are alternating, because if it had been just him, he would’ve busted in your mouth in under a minute.

You feel flash after flash after flash. Picture falling one after another, scattering on Eddie’s thighs. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie chuckles. “This is filthy. God, you look so fucking good like that.” 

Another flash. Another picture falling next to his balls. 

You pop off of him with a messy sound and a smile at the compliment, licking your lips as you turn to Steve.

“Your turn, baby,” you whisper.

Steve steps closer, and you feel the way he starts twitching in your mouth. It doesn’t take long before he grabs your hair, and starts thrusting to get himself off.

Eddie’s eyes widen, pulling the camera aside to enjoy the view. The way Steve holds you there. The way he fucks into your mouth, chasing his release, his fist tangled in your hair, his chest rising hard and fast as you take all of him. 

Steve finally comes in a few strangled moans, making sure he stays inside until you swallow every drop of his cum. He strokes your cheek with one hand, pulling out, reaching down to wipe the corner of your mouth. “There you go, baby,” he praises, still breathless. “So good for us.”

You don’t take more than a few seconds when you turn to Eddie, chest heaving, but before you can lean down again his hand comes up, stopping you. 

“Wait!” He says, coming off a little louder than he means to.

Your brows furrow. “Are you–are you not enjoying it?” 

“No no, Jesus–no,” he rushes, “You’re–you’re perfect. You’re actually heaven. I swear. It’s just…if you keep going like that…I won’t last.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, immediately understanding where he’s coming from. 

Eddie wants to save his cum for when he gets lucky to actually fuck you. 

Steve steps forward, helping you get to your feet. “Well,” he says, amused, “you’re a lucky bastard, Munson. I’m a man of my word, so I’m gonna let you fuck her properly now.”  

Eddie gulps. Your eyes light up. 

“That’ll get you going just fine.” Steve adds. 

He takes the camera from Eddie’s side, then walks back to settle onto the puff in the corner again, naked, angling the Polaroid camera like a professional. 

You take a moment to get rid of your panties, before pushing Eddie back onto the bed, making him crawl back until he’s in the center on the mattress, his curly hair draping over your multiple pillows. You climb over the pictures and his body until you’re hovering over him. 

Eddie doesn’t expect you to turn around, but there you are, moving away to straddle him in reverse, giving him a perfect view of your ass. His heart is racing so hard he can hear it in his ears, yet a devilish chuckle still comes out before he can stop it. 

“You want Steve to see your face while you bounce on my cock, sweetheart?” 

You nod, biting your lip even if he can’t see you–because Steve sure can–lifting yourself up with your hands on his thighs. “God, yes.”

You reach to line him up beneath you, teasing the tip only for a second because you can’t wait any longer than that to feel him inside. 

You sink down without giving him any warning. 

“Holy–fuck,” Eddie groans, throwing his head back onto the pillows. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so tight–”

He only shuts up when he hears the moans you let out as he stretches your walls so painfully good. He feels as huge as he looks, he fills you as well as you thought he would. He’s balls deep inside you. Your knees are on either side of his hips, ass to his stomach, fingers digging into his thighs as you begin to fuck yourself on him. 

From the corner, Steve lets out a low hum of approval as you bounce harder on Eddie’s cock, chasing your second orgasm. He strokes himself with one hand, the other snapping shots of the way your tits bounce, the way your face twists every time you sink down, the way you never stop looking at him.

Flash. Flash. Flash. Tug. Tug. Tug. 

“Fuck yes, baby–look at you. You look like a fucking porn star.”

You smile at him, then turn over your shoulder, just a little to see how your other boy is doing. 

Eddie’s falling apart. 

His eyes are glued to where your bodies meet. To his cock disappearing inside your folds. And if the sounds were obscene before–they’re so much worse now. Between Eddie’s grunts, your moans as you ride him, and the clicking sound of Steve’s camera, this was a full blown production. 

A priceless one. 

And then you make that sound again. 

The same sound you made the second time Eddie saw you fall apart on Steve’s cock. The sound you made with his fingers deep inside you. The sound that haunted his fucking dreams.

“You’re getting her there, man,” Steve says, stroking himself faster to the next series of whimpers you let out. “Make her feel good, then cum inside her. She loves that shit.”

Eddie nods. “That okay, angel? Want me to fill you up?” 

You can't even speak. You just nod frantically, gasping as your rhythm begins to falter, and your thighs start shaking.

“You gotta come again first, sweetheart,” Eddie says through gritted teeth, grabbing your hips to push himself up into you. He can feel you pulsing around him. 

“Steve–fuck–I’m gonna–”

“Then do it, baby,” he growls. “Come on his cock.”

You come harder than the first time. Your mouth drops open in a choked moan as your orgasm tears through you. Eddie nearly comes from how tight you clench around him.

But no. He still wants more from you. Needs it like he needs oxygen. 

This time he does catch you when you slump forward, sitting up still buried inside you, placing a kiss on your shoulder as you both catch your breath. But the quiet doesn’t last long. He’s still hard inside you, and the devil on his shoulder tells him to finish what he started. 

He earns a sudden yelp from you when he flips you, pushing you onto your stomach, pulling your hips back, and lining himself up again from behind…just like he’d seen you that day. Face in the sheets. Ass up. Wet pussy glowing under the nightlight. Floral sheets wrinkled under your body. 

Deja vu.

But this time, it’s not Steve–no, he’s just watching. Eddie is the one pushing his cock deep inside you with a harsh thrust that makes your whole body rock forward. 

He’s not that gentle anymore. Not in a mean way. Never in a mean way, but in a I-need-to-come-inside-you-now way. His hands are gripping your skin, knuckles going pale, holding you down as you become a mess under him. 

He looks up to the couch, and he expects to see at least an ounce of the jealousy he’d felt the day he saw you with him, but all he sees is Steve’s fist going up and down furiously on his cock. The camera had been dropped as soon as your cheek had hit the mattress.

He wanted to see it. See you fall apart. 

“…Holy shit, dude, go for it,” Steve whistles low in approval, chuckling when he hears your strangled gasps every time Eddie slammed into you. “Let him, baby,” he coos. “Be a good girl and take all of it.”

He really gives you all of it. 

Eddie’s sure he only survived ‘86 just to see the way your tight little asshole contracts with every thrust he drills into your swollen pussy. 

“Eds–Eddie–”

“I know I know. Almost there, angel. Gonna fill you up real good,” he coaxes over your small whines, “wanna see you dripping with my cum.”

Eddie slams into you once more, then groans so loud it echoes across the wallpaper walls, and finally spills inside you with a cry. 

Steve comes in his own hand as Eddie pulls out of you, slapping your ass a few times with his cock before you collapse onto the bedsheets. Eddie falls right behind you, blinking up at the ceiling, coming down from his high.

In the middle of all the panting, your chests rising up and down, he doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do next. Part of him expects to be handed his clothes and a polite “thanks for coming.” But instead, you instinctively roll over to him, wrapping your arms around his body and burying your face against his chest. 

Steve just chuckles, finding his briefs on the floor and throwing them on, then finally walking over to where you’re cuddling Eddie, running his hand through your hair with a little smile.

“She gets kinda clingy after.”

You don’t even lift your head. “Don’t be rude.”

Steve grins wider. “Sorry, baby. Cute is the word. She gets cute after.”

You hum again, approving this time. Then, you let out a sigh of exhaustion, voice muffled in Eddie’s chest, “you guys are fucking crazy.”

Steve snorts. “We are crazy?”

“I didn’t exactly suggest a threesome, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles, hugging you tighter. 

“Whatever,” you giggle. “Just…don’t let me fall asleep like this.”

Steve kneels beside the bed and rubs your back gently. “Want a shower, baby?”

You shake your head. “Bath.”

“Bath it is.”

He places a kiss on your shoulder, then stands and walks to your bathroom. A few moments later, Eddie hears the water running.

He could’ve stayed like that forever, really. With you curled into his arms, naked with his seed still inside you, surrounded by the filthy pictures he’d taken of you. His hand comes up hesitantly, brushing your hair back with the same tenderness he always sees Steve do it. 

Where does this leave him though? Is this a one time thing? A hit and run? How can he go back to his normal life after this? 

He’d already been losing his mind over you for weeks. He’s never getting over this.

“Are you okay?” You ask, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Me?” 

“Yeah, your heart is beating really fast,” you say, hand resting lightly on his chest, right over it.

Eddie laughs under his breath. “Uh. Yeah. I’m just…kinda expecting for someone to tell me to get up and leave?”

You hum softly, nuzzling closer to him. “I don’t want you to leave, Eds…” 

He doesn’t get to say anything before Steve returns, a pink towel slung over his bare shoulder as he stands on the bathroom door. 

“Well, dude,” he says. “You bringing her or what?”

Eddie looks down at you, all cozied up in his arms. You don’t say anything, but you smile, soft and sweet and welcoming as always. 

The sun in his arms. 

He's not sure what the hell is next for him now. But at least for tonight, he’s staying. 

And I ain't gotta tell him, I think he knows

Thank you so much for reading! hope you enjoyed 👀🤭

Feedback is always appreciated 🤍

[hellfirexhoe]

Liquid Courage - Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: After one too many drinks and an ill-timed confession to Wayne, you and your best friend are forced to confront the feelings you’ve both been pretending not to have.

Masterlist

8.8k words

Warnings: 18+ content, minors do not interact, underage drinking (both reader and Eddie are 18+), first-hand embarrassment, friends to lovers, yearning, intoxication, idiots in love, friends who are friendly, smut at the end, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex (unprotected), aftercare.

a/n: Yet again another indulgent fic with a crazy high word count. Babes I don't know what's happening, but lets love it while it lasts.

The music is blasting through Steve’s living room. Someone’s shouting over a Springsteen song. The floor is vibrating from too many bodies. And you are absolutely hammered. Nancy has both your hands, spinning you in a circle while you scream-sing the chorus completely off key.

“Okay, okay- slow down!” Nancy laughs as you nearly collide with the coffee table.

“I’m fiiiiine,” you insist, wobbling, then immediately grabbing her shoulders for balance. Across the room, Eddie watches you. Arms folded. Leaning against the wall. Trying very hard not to smile like an idiot.

You finally spot him. You point dramatically. “You!”

He snorts. “Oh no.”

You stumble toward him like a determined baby deer. “You’re not drinking.”

He lifts his cup, tilting it so you can see the soda. “Purely salesman mode tonight, sweetheart.” 

You squint at him. “But drinking is fuuuuun,” you sing, spinning once and nearly taking out a lamp.

“It’s very fun,” he agrees. “You look like you’re having a great time.”

“Mhm!” You beam up at him. “Come dance with me.”

He tries to refuse. He really does. But you grab his hands and pull him into the mess of bodies before he can argue. You’re laughing. Spinning. Grabbing his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Easy there.” Eddie’s hands land at your waist, his hands lingering just a little too long. You press yourself against him, swaying your body against his. His breath catches as your gaze flits from his eyes to his lips.

He clears his throat, shaking himself out of the moment. He knows you’re too drunk for that look to mean anything and so he pays it no attention. Contented to dance with you for as long as you want him.

Later, when the party starts thinning out, you’re even worse.

Eddie’s got your arm over his shoulders as he guides you toward the door.

“I don’t wanna leeeave,” you mumble.

“You tried to convince Nancy to run away with you,” he says.

“She’s beautiful.”

“You also told her you’d name your first daughter after her.”

You stop walking. “That’s still on the table.”

He snorts. When he opens the door, you suddenly go limp. “Nope. I refuse to exit unless carried.”

He stares at you. “You are not serious.”

You blink at him slowly.

Without another word, he scoops you up, far too easily, and instead of bridal style, he slings you over one shoulder.

You scream, “BYEEEE NANCYYYY!” Straining your neck to wave to her as Eddie walks out with you. And then, because you are a menace, you smack Eddie’s butt.

“Good horse,” you declare.

He nearly drops you. “You are unbelievable.”

Back at the trailer, he sets you down carefully on his bed. You try to protest when he grabs a pillow and sets himself up a bed on the floor.

“Where are you going?”

“Floor,” he says.

“That’s stupid.”

“You’re drunk.”

“So?”

“So I’m not taking advantage of my very affectionate best friend.”

You pout. “You’re no fun.”

He turns off the light. You fall asleep in seconds, still fully dressed.

He doesn’t.

Morning comes like a punishment. You wake up with the worst hangover of your life. Your mouth is dry. Your head feels like it’s being jackhammered. There’s a glass of water and two aspirin on the nightstand. You snatch them up, gulping down the cold water.

Eddie is sitting on the floor, back against the side of the bed, reading a comic.

He looks up slowly. “Well, good morning, Sunshine!.”

You groan. “Don’t.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely going to. Do you remember your conversation with Wayne last night?”  You see the smirk on his face and know immediately it's bad. You drag his blanket over your face, hoping by hiding away it could lessen the embarrassment.

“You told Wayne you were gonna marry me someday,” he says conversationally. “In a very loud whisper.”

Oh God no.

“You then proceeded to tell him the names you’ve picked out for our kids. Four of them, I might add.” He pauses. “Are you sure you’re not related to Steve?”

You make a dying noise and burrow deeper under the covers. “I’m moving out of the state.”

“You also informed him I’d look ‘so hot’ holding a baby.” Cheeks ablaze, you kick blindly in his direction.

He catches your ankle easily. “You done?” he asks, grinning.

Softly, under the blanket you speak up, “…Did he say anything?”

“He said,” Eddie replies, quieter now, “‘About damn time.’”

You pull the blanket tighter around you. “I’m moving.” You repeat, grumbling.

“You also called me ‘future husband’ three times.” And suddenly it’s not funny anymore. The air between you changes, you can feel it even under the blanket. Eddie releases your ankle and you risk a peek from out of his covers, 

“Okay, well, drunk me is clearly unwell.” You joke weakly, throat dry. 

“You sure about that? Because I’ve been around you drunk enough to know that you could talk the hind leg off a donkey, but you never lie.”

“Eds-”

“You told Wayne,” he continues carefully, “that I’m the only person who’s ever made you feel safe.”

You don’t remember saying that. You wish you did. 

“And that you’d marry me,” he adds, voice quieter now, “because you already trust me with everything.”

Your chest aches. “I didn’t mean to…” you start, stomach twisting painfully as you try to find the words.

“I know you didn’t.”

That’s the problem.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird between us.” 

“You didn’t.”

“It feels weird.”

“Yeah,” he admits quietly. “It does.”

Your fingers twist in his blanket. “You know I love you.”

His jaw tightens just slightly at that. “Yeah.”

“No, I mean…” You hesitate. “You’re my person.”

That makes him look at you. Full eye contact. No teasing. No smirk. “You’re mine too,” he says.

Your heart stumbles. The words sit between you. Not romantic. Not platonic. Just true. You laugh nervously. “See? That’s normal. Best friend stuff.”

“Right.” He nods once. But he doesn’t look convinced. 

You study him for a second. “Did it freak you out?” you ask softly.

He considers it. “No,” he says honestly. “It just… caught me off guard.”

“Why?”

His fingers tap against the comic cover. “Because if you ever said that to me sober,” he says carefully, “I wouldn’t think you were joking.”

Your breath catches. The hangover is suddenly the least overwhelming thing happening in your skull.

You search his face for a punchline. There isn’t one. “Eddie…”

“I’m not saying you meant it like that,” he rushes to add. “I know you were drunk. I just…” He exhales. “It’s hard to pretend I didn’t hear it.”

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, bringing yourself closer to him. Close enough that your knees almost touch his shoulder. He looks up at you.

“I don’t want to lose this,” you admit.

His eyes soften immediately. “You won’t.”

“No matter what?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “No matter what.” The certainty in his voice makes your chest ache.

You look down at him, really look at him.

And for the first time, you let yourself ask the question you’ve been avoiding for months.

“…If I had meant it,” you whisper, “would that have been so bad?”

He goes very, very quiet.

Then:

“No.”

The word hangs in the air between you both. Your pulse roars in your ears, the tips of them burning. Eddie doesn’t look away this time. He doesn’t hide behind a joke or a smirk. He just stays there on the floor in front of you, knees drawn up, hands loose around the comic he’s no longer reading.

“You’re hungover,” he says after a moment, softer now. “This is probably not the ideal time for this particular conversation.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Probably not.”

Neither of you move. You barely breathe. The morning light creeps in through the thin curtains, cutting across the trailer in pale gold stripes. It catches in his curls. In the rings on his fingers. In the nervous flex of his jaw.

You swallow. “I don’t think drunk me was lying,” you admit quietly.

His shoulders tense. “You don’t have to say that because of what I said,” he replies carefully.

“I’m not.”

Silence again.

You slide fully off the bed this time. You’re close now. Close enough to see the faint freckles on his nose. The dark circles from a night he didn’t really sleep.

“I don’t remember saying I’d marry you,” you say. “But I remember thinking it.”

His breath stutters. “When?” he asks, almost afraid of the answer.

You huff a small laugh. “All the time.”

That cracks something open in him. He sets the comic aside completely now. “You’re serious.”

“Unfortunately.” You pause, pursing your lips, “You’re my best friend,” you continue, voice unsteady but determined. “You’re the first person I look for in every room. You’re the one I want to tell things to first. When something good happens, when something bad happens. You make everything feel… manageable.”

His eyes shine in a way that makes your chest tighten.

“You make me feel safe,” you finish. “Apparently even drunk me knows that.”

He lets out a breath that sounds like he’s been holding it for years. “I’ve been in love with you since forever,” he says.

Your heart slams against your ribs. “What?” You stare at him.

All this time. All the teasing. The late-night drives. The way he always stood just a little closer to you than anyone else.

“You never said anything,” you whisper.

“You were happy,” he says. “And I wasn’t going to risk screwing up the one good thing I’ve got.”

The ache in your chest shifts into something warm. “You idiot,” you breathe.

He huffs a broken laugh. “Yeah. Probably.” You reach for him before you can overthink it. Your fingers slide into his messy curls, gentle but sure. He stills instantly.

“Tell me,” you whisper.

His hands come up slowly, resting at your waist like they did last night, only this time you’re sober. This time he’s searching your face for any sign of hesitation. “Tell you what?”

“That it wouldn’t be so bad,” you say, voice barely there. “If I meant it.”

His thumb brushes against your hip, hesitant. “It wouldn’t be bad,” he says, steady now. “It’d be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

There’s no room left to pretend. No space for jokes. You lean down first, slowly, deliberately.

Your lips brush his, testing the water. Eddie freezes for half a second, short circuiting for a moment. And then he kisses you back.

Slow. Warm. Like he’s been holding that in for years. When you finally pull back, your forehead rests against his. You’re both breathing a little harder.

The world feels very quiet.

Eddie doesn’t move away. Neither do you. His hands are still at your waist, careful but certain now, thumbs resting just at the curve of your hips like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go. “Okay…” he murmurs, voice rough in a way that makes your stomach flip.

“Okay,” you echo, because it’s the only word your brain will give you.

He lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh. The relief apparent. “You’re sure you meant it?” he asks quietly.

You nod, forehead still pressed to his. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t.”

“Fair,” he says.

Your fingers are still tangled lightly in his curls. You feel him relax under your touch, the tension he’s been carrying easing little by little. “I can’t believe you’ve been in love with me this whole time,” you whisper.

He huffs. “Yeah, well. I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”

“I thought you were just… being you.” You pause. “Does this change everything?” you ask softly.

He considers it. “No,” he says finally, pulling you closer.

You lean down and kiss him again, less tentative this time. His grip tightens slightly, grounding you both. When you pull back, you brush your nose against his.

“So,” you murmur. “Now what?”

A slow grin spreads across his face. Not teasing. Not deflecting. Happy.

“Well,” he says, “we probably start with breakfast. I’m thinking a greasy sandwich, smothered in cheese.” 

You gag, “God I hate you.” You clamp your hand to your mouth, stomach rolling, as Eddie laughs, clearly very pleased with himself.

“Nah, you don’t. C’mon, I’m taking you out for breakfast.” He stands, holding a hand out to you. “My treat.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I can pay for myself.” You take his hand, hauling yourself up without a modicum of grace. 

“I had a very successful night, while you were off proposing to Nancy and confessing your deep dark secrets to my uncle, I’m paying.” 

“Let it go.”

“Absolutely not. I’m holding that one over you till the day I die.” You roll your eyes, pulling on your jeans from the previous night then glance up at Eddie.

“Did you undress me last night?”

“No, no. You did that all by yourself. Tried to perform a strip tease at like 4am.” A faint memory of a very flustered Eddie turning off music and trying to get you back into bed surfaces. You groan, dropping your head into your hands.

“I’m never drinking again.” Eddie laughs as you snatch up his sunglasses, sliding them onto your face and bracing for the onslaught of the world outside this room.

“Hate to say it, but you say that every time.” He picks up his jacket from his chair, “C’mon, let’s get you caffeinated and fed.” He nudges your shoulder with his own. You make a wounded sound but let him guide you to the door. The sunlight spills in as he opens the door and you wince, ““Oh my god. Why is the sun so loud?”

Eddie grins. “Because you tried to out-drink Steve.” 

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did. Now, giddy up horsey.” He slaps your ass, mirroring your action from the previous night.

“Never gonna let me live any aspect of last night down.” You grumble stepping out from the trailer. You let him take your hand as you walk. And when he laces his fingers through yours, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, you don’t even think about it.

You just squeeze back.

As you walk down the steps of the trailer, he bumps his shoulder into yours. “So,” he says casually, “do I get to tell everyone we finally figured it out?”

You squint behind his sunglasses, “What do you mean everyone? Did everyone but me know?”

He clears his throat, “Pretty much, yeah. Honestly I think Hellfire were getting embarrassed for me. I mean you were so oblivious…” 

“I am not oblivious!” Your tone makes the words ring in your skull. You climb into the van beside Eddie, “I don’t know if I wanna tell people straight away, make it a big thing.” 

“Relax,” he says. “It’s our thing. No one else needs to know.”

Our thing.

The words settle warm in your chest. You glance at him, still half-squinting against the sun, still a little nauseous, still very much hungover. But smiling. Maybe drunk you didn’t ruin anything.

Eddie starts the van, engine rumbling to life beneath you. The radio crackles faintly before he turns it down low, sparing your fragile skull.

You lean your head back against the seat, sunglasses sliding slightly down your nose.

“So Hellfire knew?” you mutter.

He winces. “In my defense, I did not formally announce it.”

“You didn’t have to,” you grumble. “Apparently I’m the only idiot.”

He reaches over, nudging your knee gently. “Hey. You weren’t an idiot.”

“I was oblivious.”

“Yeah,” he says easily, a small smug smile forming on his lips. “It was kinda adorable.”

You scoff, then immediately regret it when the motion sends a spike through your temples. “Stop making this cute. I am suffering.”

“You did this to yourself.”

“You let me.”

“Hey, you’re a free independent woman. Also have you met you? There is no ‘letting you do anything’ you just do it.” He laughs, “I love that about you.”

You fall quiet for a second, watching the trees blur past the window. The town looks the same as it always has. Hawkins. Sleepy. Unchanged.

But it doesn’t feel the same. Your hand shifts on the seat between you. Without looking, he threads his fingers through yours again. Natural. Easy. Like it’s always been that way. Your stomach flips, not from nausea this time.

“So,” you say carefully, “we’re… doing this?”

He glances at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road.

“Yeah,” he says simply. You squeeze his hand. “And we don’t have to tell anyone yet,” he adds. “Not until you’re ready.”

“Good.” You nod, “Except Nancy,” you add. “She’s gonna know the second she sees either of us..”

He laughs. “Yeah, Wheeler’s psychic.”

You settle back in your seat, letting the quiet stretch comfortably between you. After a moment, he bumps his shoulder lightly against yours. “You okay?” he asks again, softer now. You turn your head toward him. Hungover. Still mortified. 

“Yeah,” you say. “Honestly wondering how I’m ever gonna look Wayne in the eye again.” 

Eddie snorts. “Oh, you won’t,” he says immediately.

You groan, slumping further into the seat. “Fantastic. Love that for me.”

“He’s gonna have a field day,” Eddie continues, clearly enjoying this far too much.

You make a strangled noise. “I will actually pass away.”

“Nah.” He squeezes your hand. “He likes you.”

“That’s worse.”

Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “It’s not worse. It just means he’s been rooting for this longer than we have.”

You blink at him. “That’s not comforting.”

“It kinda is,” he insists. “Means I didn’t hallucinate the tension for the last two years.”

You turn your head slowly. “Two years?”

He winces. “Give or take.”

“Oh my god.”

“What?” he defends. “You’re very… lovable.”

You stare at him for a second, then look away quickly because your heart does that stupid flutter thing again. The van screeches to a stop at a red light. He glances over at you, softer now.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he says quietly. “About Wayne. Or last night. Or any of it.”

“I told your uncle I was gonna marry you.”

“You told him you trust me,” he corrects gently.

You swallow.

“That’s not something to be ashamed of.”

The light turns green. He drives on. You watch his profile as he focuses on the road, steady hands, relaxed shoulders, like this is the most natural thing in the world. Like he doesn’t drive like a maniac.

“Still,” you mutter. “If he makes one joke, I’m running.”

“He will make at least five.” Eddie parks up outside the diner, the pair of you thrown back into your seats by his sudden braking. “Feel free to start running.” 

“Breakfast first, then I’ll think about it.”

“That’s my girl.”

You turn sharply. “Don’t get cocky.”

He grins wider, lifting your joined hands to press a kiss to your knuckles. It’s quick. Casual. Like he’s done it a thousand times. Like it doesn’t make your stomach flip anyway. You stare at him for a second, blinking behind your borrowed sunglasses. “…Don’t do that,” you mutter.

His eyebrows lift. “Don’t do what?”

“That,” you say, gesturing vaguely at your hand like it’s offended you personally. “The... the little boyfriend thing.”

The grin on his face turns wicked. “Ohhh. So that’s what we’re calling it now.”

“I didn’t say boyfriend,” you snap, then immediately regret it when your skull punishes you.

Eddie laughs, leaning back in his seat like he’s just won something. “C’mon,” he says, reaching over to pop your door open because he’s annoying and also apparently a gentleman now. “In and out. Coffee. Pancakes. Grease. Salvation.” 

You step out of the van and immediately wince at the brightness again. “Why is it still daytime,” you complain.

“It’s been daytime for hours,” Eddie says, shutting his door and coming around to your side. “Time’s just passing you by because you’re fragile.”

“I’m not fragile.”

“You’re walking like a Victorian child struck with consumption.”

You glare at him. “I’m walking like someone who has been personally victimized by alcohol.”

He hums, sounding far too pleased. “And love.”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “Stop saying things like that where I can hear you.”

He laughs and holds the diner door open for you with an exaggerated little bow. “My lady.”

“I’m going to trip you.”

“You can try,” he says brightly, and then, because he has no self-preservation, he reaches out and slides the sunglasses down your nose so he can look at your eyes. There’s a softness there that makes your chest tighten.

“You okay?” he asks, quieter.

You nod, even though your body is a wreck. “Yeah,” you admit. “I’m okay.”

His mouth twitches like he’s holding back a smile. “Good.” he murmurs, and lets the sunglasses fall back into place.

The diner smells like coffee and fried food and comfort. Booths worn in. Vinyl seats cracked. A couple old men sit at the counter. The waitress behind the register looks up and pauses. You recognise her from Hawkins High immediately.

Her eyes flick from Eddie to you. Then down to your joined hands. Then back up again. Her smile spreads like wildfire. “Oh,” she says, dragging the word out like she’s savoring it. “Well. Look at that.”

You freeze and Eddie, traitor that he is, leans in close and whispers against your ear, voice full of laughter. “Told you. Everyone knew.”

You make a sound that is half groan, half prayer, and let him steer you into a booth before you can collapse on the floor from sheer mortification. The waitress comes over with her pad, already grinning. “What can I get you two?”

Eddie opens his mouth, mischief clearly on his mind from the way his eyes twinkle.

So you kick him under the table. Hard enough that he yelps. “Ow!”

You smile sweetly at the waitress. “Coffee,” you say quickly. “Black. Please. And… pancakes.”

Eddie rubs his shin.

“And for you?” the waitress asks him.

Eddie looks at you like he’s about to push his luck. He does. “I’ll have whatever she’s having,” he says, leaning back with a grin. “She’s got excellent taste.”

You glare at him, but you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your mouth anyway. Your face is still hot. Your head still hurts. But Eddie’s knee bumps yours under the table, and his hand slides across the vinyl seat toward yours like it belongs there.

The waitress keeps grinning as she scribbles on her pad. “Pancakes for you,” she says, pointing at you with her pen. “And pancakes for you,” she adds to Eddie, still amused.

Eddie’s eyes flick up at her, already clocking the vibe. “We’re just having breakfast,” he says, too innocent to be believable.

“Mhm,” she hums, clearly not buying it for a second. “Sure you are.”  The waitress walks away, and Eddie leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “You okay?” he asks again, softer. No teasing this time.

You bury your face in your hands. “I’m going to die.”

You peek at him through the edge of your sunglasses. His hair is a mess. His rings catch the light when he shifts his hand. He looks… stupidly happy. Like he’s been waiting for this and still can’t believe he’s allowed to have it.

You swallow and squeeze his hand.

Eddie’s mouth twitches, like he wants to smile but he’s trying not to make it a Big Thing. Like he’s handling you carefully on purpose.

“Also,” you add, because you can’t help yourself, “if that waitress tells anyone…”

“She’s gonna,” Eddie says immediately.

You groan. “Eddie!”

“I’m not saying it to be mean.” He shrugs, smiling. “I’m saying it because it’s Hawkins. If two squirrels hold hands, five people find out.”

You drag your free hand down your face. “I can’t believe everyone knew.”

Eddie’s eyes soften. He leans back against the booth, still holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Not everyone,” he says. “Just the people who have eyes.”

You kick him lightly under the table. He laughs, unbothered. “Hey! I’m not insulting you.”

“It feels like you are.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says, quieter. “You just… never thought I’d want more.”

Your throat goes tight as you look down at your joined hands. “I didn’t let myself think about it.”

Eddie nods once, like he understands that too well.

The waitress returns with two mugs of coffee, setting yours down like it’s medicine. “Here,” she says, still grinning. “For your soul.”

“Thank you,” you say fervently.

Eddie watches you take the first sip. “How’s that?” he asks.

You exhale slowly. “Like I’ve seen God.”

He laughs, leaning in. “Good. Because I’d like to keep you alive long enough to…you know…”

You raise an eyebrow. “To what?”

He hesitates, then smiles like he can’t help it. “To take you on a real date.”

You blink. Your stomach flips. “A real date?” you repeat.

“Yeah,” he says, suddenly a little nervous. “Not just… us doing what we always do.”

Your face warms. “I’d like that,” you say, voice softer than you meant it to be.

Eddie’s grin is immediate and unstoppable.“Yeah?” he says. “Yeah?”

You roll your eyes to hide the fact that you’re smiling too. “Yes, Eddie.”

He takes a triumphant swig of his coffee and gags, “That is vile.” He releases your hand to pour an ungodly amount of sugar in his cup, the line of the liquid raising against the stained porcelain. 

“You are committing a crime,” you mutter.

“Silence,” he says solemnly, stirring like a man performing a ritual. He takes another sip. He considers. “…Better.”

You shake your head, but your hand drifts back toward his on instinct. His fingers slide between yours again.

“So,” he says casually, though there’s a spark in his eyes. “Friday?”

You glance up. “Friday?”

“For this very official, very serious real first date.”

You pretend to think about it. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Whether or not you consider this our first date.” 

“Friday’s different,” he says. “Friday’s the real date. This?” He gestures vaguely at the diner, the coffee, your sunglasses indoors. “This is emergency recovery.”

You laugh. “Emergency recovery.”

“Yeah. Friday I actually try.”

“Oh, that’s terrifying.”

He grins. “You’ll love it.”

Under the table, his thumb keeps tracing slow circles against your skin like he’s making sure you’re still there.

The rest of the week passes in a series of clumsy missteps, including, but not limited to, opening the van door directly into Eddie’s face as he tries to open it for you, Eddie getting distracted mid-dramatic monologue during Hellfire because you spill soda down your shirt, prompting a loud slam of Dustin’s hand on the table that jerks him violently back to reality, and, on Friday morning, Eddie announcing he was “very excited about tonight” to you, in front of the entire Hellfire club.

You had never wanted the ground to swallow you whole more.

“What’s tonight?” Mike demands immediately. “You can’t run a campaign without the rest of us!”

“Yeah!” Dustin joins in. “Is this a secret side quest? Because I will riot.”

You shoot daggers at Eddie as he attempts damage control. “We’re studying,” he says quickly. “Chemistry final.”

Mike stares at him. “But why would you be excited to study?” He asks, bewildered by the concept. 

Jeff leans back in his chair slowly, eyes sliding between the two of you. “I don’t think it’s the studying he’s excited about.” Jeff waggles his eyebrows suggestively as Eddie claps him on the back of the head without looking at him.

“Okay boys, I’m taking this as my cue to leave to more civilised parts.” You pick up your books and join Nancy as she walks through, falling into step with her.

“The hell is all that about?” She gestures to the ruckus left in your wake.

“You can keep a secret right?”

“Is this about Eddie’s thing for you?” She laughs, “Did he finally confess?”

“Think it was more me that did the confessing.” You admit, you lower your voice as you speak, “We’ve got our first real da-” You are cut off mid sentence. 

“WAIT,” Dustin yells faintly from the table, “ARE YOU GUYS DATING?”

You close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Nancy pats your arm. “I give it,” she says thoughtfully, tipping her head to the side, “twenty-four hours before the entire school knows.”

You sigh. “Great.”

She glances sideways at you. “You’re smiling.”

You try to wipe it off your face. You can’t. 

You’ve changed three times by the time headlights sweep across your bedroom wall.

He’d told you to wear whatever you felt comfortable in. You’d asked, comfortable for what? He’d replied, “Something between a sword fight with a dragon and a quiet night studying.” So really he’d been no help at all. You peer through the curtain, wiping your palms on your jeans. 

It’s Eddie’s van. Of course it is. But it’s… clean. Suspiciously clean.

You step outside before you can overthink it. He’s leaning against the hood, fiddling with his rings. He’s wearing a button-down. You stop in your tracks. “You look like you robbed a substitute teacher,” you say.

He looks down at himself. “This is called effort.”

Your heart melts instantly.

“You look…” he pauses, eyes softening when he really looks at you. “…yeah. Okay. I need a second.”

You feel heat climb your neck. “Shut up.”

“Never.”

He opens the passenger door for you, properly this time, and doesn’t get hit in the face. 

The drive is quiet in that charged way. His hand keeps twitching like he wants to reach for yours but isn’t sure if he should. You reach first. He glances at you, smile slow and warm. When he turns off the main road, you narrow your eyes.

“Eddie Munson, if you’re taking me somewhere to murder me-”

“Relax,” he laughs. “It’s a romantic murder at worst.” The van bumps along a familiar dirt road before slowing to a stop well short of the clearing.

You glance around. “Eddie.”

“Patience,” he says, killing the engine. He hops out first and jogs around to your side before you can touch the handle. When he opens the door, he offers you a dramatic bow. “My lady.” You roll your eyes but take his hand anyway.

The air is warm, buzzing faintly with crickets. The woods stretch quiet and dusky around you. He reaches into the back of the van and pulls out a picnic basket. And a lantern.

You blink. “Are you… robbing the Renaissance fair?”

“Trust the process,” he says.

You follow him up the narrow trail you both know by heart. The path curves between trees, roots catching at your sneakers. He walks a step ahead, one hand reaching back for you without looking. You take it.

The higher you climb, the more the sky opens up, streaked pink and orange, bleeding into deepening blue. And then you crest the ridge. You stop walking. Blanket laid out. Lanterns already glowing soft and golden.A cooler tucked neatly beside the rock. Skull Rock silhouetted against the sunset like something out of a fantasy novel he definitely owns. He suddenly looks nervous. “It’s dumb,” he says quickly. “I know it’s dumb. I just thought…”

“It’s not dumb,” you breathe. You turn to him. Really look up at him. “You carried all this up here?”

He shrugs like it cost him nothing. Like he didn’t absolutely make multiple trips and nearly die on the incline. “Figured if I was doing a first official real date,” he says, “I might as well commit.”

You step forward and kiss him before you can stop yourself. He freezes for half a second. Then melts.

The sunset bleeds gold across the trees. His hands find your waist instinctively, steadying you like he’s afraid the moment might tip. “You’re gonna make me forget how to speak,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Good. You talk far too much for your own good.”

He laughs softly, resting his forehead against yours. “C’mon,” he says, voice gentler now. “Let me show off properly.”

He makes good on his promise to “show off properly.” The picnic is ridiculous, and so “Eddie”. He remembered your favourite drink. Your favourite candy. Even the stupid specific chips you once mentioned in passing during a late-night study session.

“You are insufferable,” you tell him, accepting the drink.

“Romantic,” he corrects as he props himself up on one elbow beside you.

And then he just… looks at you.

“What?” you ask, squinting at him.

He shakes his head slightly. “Nothing.”

That’s not true.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re doing the staring thing.”

He doesn’t deny it. “Just memorizing,” he says quietly.

Your stomach flips. The air shifts. The joking softens. “You’re being disgustingly romantic,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” he says easily. “Get used to it.”

You reach before you can overthink it, brushing his hair away from his eyes. He stills under your touch, breathing coming a little faster now. You push yourself up slowly until you’re sitting close enough that your knees bump his thigh.

“Hi,” you say softly.

“Hi,” he replies, just as soft.

You kiss him first this time. His hand slides immediately to your waist. Yours curl into the collar of his shirt. The fabric is warm under your fingers. His thumb presses slightly into your hip like he’s grounding himself. Like he needs something solid. You shift closer. One leg sliding over his. Your fingers slip into his hair, tugging just slightly. He exhales sharply against your mouth. And that sound goes straight through you. You press closer without thinking. He responds instinctively, hands tightening at your waist, pulling you in. Your hand drifts lower, brushing over the line of his chest.

He makes another low sound in his throat. Your heart pounds. You pull back just enough to look at him. His pupils are blown. His jaw tight. Breath coming unevenly. And instead of backing off, you lean in again. His hands slide from your waist to your hips. The kiss deepens again.

You shift, moving fully into his lap now, straddling him without quite realizing you’ve done it. His breath stutters. Your hands wander. His fingers flex against your sides. And the heat between you spikes. He kisses you harder. Your fingers curl into his shirt. His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing just beneath the hem of your top. You press closer and he inhales sharply.

And then…

He stops. Not abruptly. Not rejecting.

His hands firm at your waist. His forehead drops against yours. His breath is warm and uneven against your lips.

“Okay,” he says, voice rougher than you’ve ever heard it. “I need to… hold on.”

You blink at him, dazed. “Hold on?”

He exhales a shaky laugh, eyes still closed like he’s physically restraining himself. “I am trying very hard,” he says carefully, “to remember that I am a gentleman.”

You stare at him. “A gentleman,” you repeat.

He opens one eye. There’s heat there. And mischief. “Yeah. Sorry. I don’t sleep with girls on the first date.” He tilts his head slightly. “Don’t want them getting the wrong idea.”

You gape at him. Then you shove his shoulder lightly. “You are unbelievable.”

He grins, clearly pleased with himself, though his hands are still resting on your hips like they forgot to disengage. “I’m serious,” he adds, mock solemn. “Reputation to maintain. Mystery. Intrigue.”

“You,” you say, narrowing your eyes, “have zero mystery.”

“Hey.”

“Well in that case,” you continue, leaning back just enough to look at him properly, “this was probably our billionth date.”

His eyebrows lift.

“My parents aren’t home,” you add, lowering your voice in a way that makes his throat bob. “Unless you’re scared.”

He freezes. For two whole seconds. Then he laughs, shaking you on his lap with the force of it. “You are so much worse than me,” he says, shaking his head.

“And you love it.”

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. No hesitation. “I do.”

You’re still straddling him. Still very aware of the way his hands haven’t moved far. He leans in again, but this time the kiss is softer. Slower. Intentional. Not consuming. When he pulls back, he brushes his thumb along your cheek, grounding himself, grounding you. “Rain check,” he murmurs. “I wanna take my time with you.”

“You are taking your time,” you say quietly.

He smiles, softer now. “Exactly.” He leans back against the blanket, tugging you with him until you’re half sprawled across his chest, your ear over his heartbeat.

Eddie was maddeningly true to his word.

The second date is a movie night in his trailer - Wayne conveniently working late.

You sit too close on the couch. The movie plays. You have no idea what happens in it. You’re so hyper aware of Eddie that everything fades into the background. His arm rests along the back of the couch, fingers brushing your shoulder every time you shift. Your hand settles on his thigh at some point.

His breath changes and you pretend not to notice. He turns your head towards him with a gentle touch to your chin, brushing his lips against yours. The kiss starts slow and yet you quickly find yourself half in his lap, his back pressed to the armrest, your fingers in his hair. His hands roaming higher this time.

Braver.

Yours slide beneath the hem of his shirt. He exhales sharply. You feel it everywhere.

And then…  He pulls back. Again. Forehead to forehead. Breathing uneven. “You’re killing me,” he mutters.

“Then stop stopping,” you whisper.

His thumb brushes your cheek. “Not yet,” he says softly.

You groan and bury your face in his shoulder. He laughs quietly, but he’s shaking a little. “Three dates minimum,” he reminds you.

“You made that rule up.”

“Still counts.” You bite his shoulder lightly in retaliation.

He hisses. “That’s cheating.” You smile against his skin. 

By the third date, the tension has teeth. You can feel it the second he picks you up. He tries to play it cool and fails immediately.

“You look smug,” you tell him as you slide into the passenger seat.

“I am smug,” he admits. “I’ve exercised incredible restraint. I think that deserves recognition.” He grins, his hand finding yours before he even pulls away from the curb.

Once at dinner, you can’t focus on the menu. He can’t focus on you without staring. You both pretend the tension isn’t sitting between you like a third person at the table. You can feel his restraint like it's your own.

And you are done being patient.

Afterwards, he drives you home slower than usual. The radio hums low. The night feels thick and warm. When he pulls into your driveway, the house is dark. He notices immediately. He glances at you. “You good?” he asks casually.

“Yeah,” you say, just as casual. “Parents left for the weekend. Some work thing.”

His fingers tighten slightly on the steering wheel. “Oh,” he says.

Just that.

Oh.

You fight a smile.

He walks you to the door. You turn on the porch light, then turn back to him.

“So,” you say.

“So,” he echoes.

He’s standing just close enough to feel his body heat. Not touching you.

Yet.

“You planning on keeping that rule forever?” you ask lightly.

“Three dates,” he says, voice even.

“This is the third date.”

His jaw flexes. He steps closer. Now you’re toe to toe. “You’re enjoying this,” he accuses softly.

“Very much.” You grab his collar and pull him down into a kiss. He makes a low sound in his throat that vibrates against your mouth His hands land at your waist immediately, gripping tighter than before. You press him back against the porch railing. He lets you. For all of three seconds. Then he flips it, gentle but firm, guiding you back until your spine brushes the door. The kiss deepens. Weeks of restraint crack at the edges. His hand slides up your side. Yours disappear into his hair, back arching into him. He exhales sharply against your mouth.

And then…

He stops. Not fully. Just enough to look at you.

“You’re sure?” he asks quietly. The porch light hums above you. The house behind you is silent.

You nod once. “I’ve been sure for weeks, Eddie.” He leans in and kisses you again, slower this time, deliberate. His hand finds yours.

“Okay,” he says softly. You fumble the door open behind you without breaking eye contact. The hallway is dark. Quiet. He steps inside, you follow, closing the door behind you both. The click of the lock is louder than it should be. He rests his forehead against yours, breath warm, hands steady at your waist. “Last chance to kick me out,” he murmurs.

You shake your head.

“Didn’t think so.”

And this time, when you pull him closer, he makes no attempt to stop or even hinder you.  You grab his shirt again and kiss him like you’ve been waiting years instead of weeks. He responds instantly, backing you a step without breaking contact. Your shoulder bumps the wall. He steadies you, hands firm at your hips. “Upstairs?” he manages against your mouth. You nod.

He kisses you again, harder, and you’re already moving. You tug him forward by the collar, nearly stumbling over your own feet in the dark hallway. He laughs against your lips, breathless. “Careful,” he mutters, though he’s the one walking you backward now. You hit the bottom step. You don’t separate. Not really. Just enough to navigate. Your hands are still in his hair. His are everywhere they’re allowed to be, waist, ribs, the curve of your back , like he’s relearning you without the brakes on. You try to climb the first step without looking.

You almost miss it.

He catches you, grip tightening, laughing softly. “You’re gonna break your neck.” 

“Worth it,” you murmur, dragging him up with you. The stair climb is messy. Kissing between steps. Half-laughing. Half-gasping. You tug him up another step. He spins you once on the landing at the half way point, pressing you briefly against the wall there, kissing you slow and deliberate like he’s savoring the fact that he’s finally allowed to. His hand slides to your lower back, fingers flexing. “You’re sure?” he asks again, softer this time. Not teasing.

“Yes.” That’s the last coherent word either of you manage for a minute. You reach the top of the stairs still tangled together. He nudges your bedroom door open with his foot without breaking the kiss. You stumble inside, barely pausing long enough to kick it shut behind you. He backs you toward the bed slowly. Your knees hit the mattress and you fall back, pulling him with you. He catches himself above you, breath warm against your mouth, curls falling into his eyes.

And for a split second, he just looks at you. “You have no idea,” he murmurs, voice low and steady now, “how long I’ve wanted this.” 

You tug him down by the collar in response, the kiss impossibly heated. He gasps into it and you take advantage of the opportunity to lick into his mouth, feeling his nails dig into your hips as you slide your tongue over his. Your fingers work quickly, unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it down his arms and throwing into the depths of your room, all without breaking your kiss. You run your hands over the newly exposed skin, grinning as you feel the shudder through him as you do. You slide up to his shoulders, nails raking down his arms until you hit the bats below his elbow. His grin breaks the kiss, “Still got yours?”

“No, Eddie, I paid good money for the guy to use temporary ink for mine.” You roll your eyes as you shimmy your jeans down, your own bats sitting on your thigh. He rubs his thumb over the dark ink, smiling fondly before dipping down to kiss the tattoo, you giggle and try to push his tickling hair away. His breath ghosts over your inner thigh and you shiver in spite of yourself. Eddie’s smile turns wolfish as he pulls your jeans lower, the mattress between your legs dipping as he settles himself there. He rests his head at your thigh, eyes locked onto yours as he slides his hand up your other thigh, smiles as you take a shaky inhale when his fingers glide over the damp fabric over your underwear. You shift your hips subtly, hoping he’ll get the message.

He gets the message, tugging your underwear down impatiently, before pocketing it like a trophy.

“Eddie…” 

He blinks innocently “What?” 

“You can’t jus-”

“Shh, yes I can. You’ve got plenty more and that’s such a pretty pair, I’m sure you won’t miss them.” You roll your eyes and attempt a retort but Eddie has you biting your tongue as he parts your legs, you can feel how thoroughly soaked you are, how aroused. And now Eddie can see it too.

“All this for me?” He teases, slipping the tip of his pointer finger into your core, gathering your arousal from its source. Your cheeks burn and you struggle to formulate a response as you watch Eddie put his finger to his mouth, licking you off of his skin. He holds your gaze as he dips his head lower, deliberately slowly. He blows a cool breath over your overheated cunt and your hips lift off their own accord, pushing towards his face.

You’d heard rumours of course, rumours that you’d had to pretend didn’t make your stomach twist with jealousy. Rumours of how good Eddie was with his month, but nothing could have prepared you for the real thing. He fucks you on his tongue, groaning into your pussy as he tastes you, shaking his head from side to side like he can’t bear to waste a drop. 

“Fuck Eds-” Your voice breaks on his name, thighs tightening over his shoulders, overwhelmed from the sudden change in pace, from reverential to man possessed. He pulls away slightly, taking time to lavish your clit with his tongue, you shake against him in response and he smiles, reading your response. 

“That’s it.” He soothes as you cry out, his fingers now teasing your clit so he can speak to you, “I just want you to feel this.” 

“So, so good.” You choke, gripping at the sheets. His mouth returns to your pussy, licking long stripes from your core to your clit, dragging your arousal over you using his tongue. The pleasure is blinding; a tight coil that only tightens as Eddie slips two fingers until your pussy, your body drawing him in deeper until he’s pressing against a spongy spot you thought only you knew about. 

“There?” He growls against your skin, voice thick.

“Fuck, yes, right there.” You cry out, rocking your hips, desperate for him to do anything other than press. 

“Shirt off.” He whispers, loud enough for you to hear. With shaking hands, you comply. Eddie sighs as he takes you in, “So fucking beautiful. Can’t wait to see how pretty you are when you’re cumming.” And with a mischievous smirk he dips his head once more, lips capturing your clit in a soft suction that gently pulls you into his mouth. He holds your gaze even once he starts rocking his fingers back and forth, creating a pressure in your stomach like you’ve never felt. The coil grows even tighter until you fall apart, vision turning blurry as Eddie tips you over the edge, he doesn’t relent when he hears the whine in your voice, desperate to ride out your orgasm with you for as long as you can take it.

Your head flops back to the pillow, chest heaving as you gasp for air, the room feeling suddenly devoid. Eddie crawls up the length of your body, pushing his jeans and underwear down as he does,

“You doing okay?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his voice and a smug smirk on his face,

“Mhm.” Your voice is several octaves higher than you’ve ever heard it. You lift your head to look at Eddie and your jaw almost drops, you glance from his cock back up to his face,

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” He bats his eyelashes, the picture of innocence. 

“Eddie… you’re huge.” Colour rushes to his cheeks at your words, clearly having never expected he was ever gonna hear those words passing your lips. 

“Shut up.” He hisses, trying to hide the shit-eating grin that splits his lips. “You don’t have to flatter me, I’ll fuck you regardless.” He jokes, “Condoms?” He glances to your nightstand, still too much of a “gentleman” to go rifling. You bite your lip,

“We don’t have to…” 

Eddie splutters, “Okay, I know you want four kids, but let's pace ourselves, sweet thing.” 

You swat at his thigh, “No, you ass. I’m on the pill.”

“Oh.” He brightens, “Oh. Then this is going to be very fun.” He teases himself first, rubbing his cock through your slick, getting himself coated before lining himself up. 

Your next thought is swallowed by the dull ache of Eddie’s cock stretching you out. He stills as you whimper softly, “Doing okay?” His fingers rubbing at your hip soothingly.

“’m fine, just being impaled.” You breathe out, sighing as Eddie sinks himself further into you, a delicious burn accompanying every inch that you take. 

Eddie chuckles darkly as he watches his cock disappear into you. “You’re taking me so well though, I’m not impaling you. You’re so dramatic.” 

You open your mouth to reply but Eddie stops you with a teasingly slow roll of his hips, pubic hair scratching over your clit as the head of his cock grazes your g-spot. You flinch, walls clenching around him already.

“Now, as pretty as you looked making a mess on my face, I’ll bet you look even prettier cumming around my cock.” He whispers, drawing his hips back and slipping back into you slowly, letting you adjust to the feeling. The feeling of being so full of him is so divine that every time he pulls back, even slightly, you instinctively whine at the loss. 

“Yeah?” He croons at you as another whine escapes you, you nod dumbly,

“Yeah.” You pant as he picks up his pace a little, clearly resenting the few milli-seconds he spends not buried to the hilt in your cunt. The room is filled with breathy moans and the unmistakable slap of skin to skin, it’d make you blush if you weren’t so drunk on him. That coil in your belly warms, contracting in on itself once more as every thrust that Eddie gives you hits your g-spot. He slips a hand between your bodies, finding your clit with ease, He starts slowly, teasing a line back and forth, then branching out into tight circles that tease every nerve in your bundle. 

It’d be agony if it wasn’t so damned good. 

“Gonna let me have it, aren’t you?” Eddie pants, breath hot in your ear, “Gonna let me feel this perfect pussy milking my cock.” 

“Yes, god yes.” You cry out, grinding your hips against him, frantically chasing your high, Eddie spurring you on with every low groan that leaves his body and vibrates in your core. 

“C’mon gorgeous, let it go.” Your vision goes white this time, heat radiating from your spine, flushing over your skin as you arch your back into Eddie. Your nails leaving angry red lines down his back as he fucks you through your orgasm, cursing and sweating as he does. He finishes in you with a cry of your name on his lips, pushing his spend deeper as he keeps fucking you through his own orgasm. Eventually the overstimulation grows too much for both of you and he pulls out, you wince slightly at the sensation of his cum flowing so freely from you, trickling down onto the sheets.

“Worth the wait?” He asks, breathing coming hard and heavy. His curls are a mess, tangled and sticking out at all angles, small purple kisses covering his neck and shoulders that you know he’ll be wearing like a badge of honour until they fade. 

You want to be snarky, to bring him down a peg or to but all you can manage is a dreamy “God, yes.” as you curl into his arms. 

“Don’t get too comfy, need to clean you up.”

“You’re the worst.” You complain as he shifts, pulling on your pink dressing gown to grab a wet cloth from the bathroom. 

“Yep, I’m the bad guy.” He laughs, cleaning you up,

“What’s with the dressing gown? No one's home.”

“Oh I know, I just thought it’d look good. Thoughts?” He stands up and poses, you laugh,

“I think we’ve found a new look for you.” 

tags @likeficsinthewnd @trashmouth-richie @cherryyy-bombx @roanokemunson @eddiemunsonspantschain @dukesmebby @wallpapertown

[callmeloverr]

This was INSANE

[burgundysnow]

Do you like my service?

Paring: Eddie Munson x reader x Gareth Emerson. Word count: 6.0k Warnings: Mdni, all characters are aged up. Eddie is 20, Gareth is 19, reader is 18. threesome, Piv. Oral m!reciving, fingering, weed/pot, fem!reader, overstimulation. Multiple orgasms. Unprotected sex. Dirty talk. Slight breeding kink. Two dicks at once. Not proof read very good. Note: if you really like this fic please check out Make Me Feel by @munsonstorm She’s the only other fic I could find like this and her writing and the story is so sooo good.

Eddie Munson is the “freak” at Hawkins high. And you? Well you’re now dubbed as “the freaks girlfriend.” But before that you were a normal average pretty girl walking down the halls just as anyone else.  

Sometimes when people see you and Eddie giggling in the corner of a classroom they fake gag. Other times girls come up to you and ask if you’re okay.

The point is your relationship was disgustingly perfect with anyone who had eyes could tell. For Valentine’s Day Eddie made paper roses for you. Put them near your locker and then at your desk, he had asked people to just give those paper roses to you through the day. It was sweet and you were definitely embarrassed by the end of it. 

That’s why it was such a shock to Gareth when Eddie came up to him one day, asking about you. 

 “Hey!” 

Eddie jogged from his van over to where Gareth was walking slight out of breath, bag slung over his shoulder while Eddie was smoking a cigarette. Seemed like Eddie was all decked out today with the holes in his black jeans and fingerless gloves. 

Eddie threw an arm over Gareth’s shoulder. They were both in hellfire club, they had a band together, and they smoked weed on the weekends. Not to mention growing up and catching the occasional movie with each other as children. They were as close as best friends could be. 

“Hey man so, I gotta question.” 

“Shoot.” Gareth stayed looking at the concrete while they both walked in tandem, thinking this was gonna be another question about whether or not the chupacabra should be in the next campaign.

“So, late last night me n’my girl were talking right?” 

“Ed’s I don’t really wanna hear about your late night rendezvous dude.” 

“No— but you’re gonna wanna hear about this one.” 

“Eddie—“ 

Gareth was already alone as he was, he really didn’t want to hear about the blowjobs Eddie got when he only got the occasional drunk girl at the bar that was ten years older than him.

“I’m a great boyfriend, in all the aspects yeah?” 

Gareth made a face but there really was no arguing with him, at lest not now. “Sure Eddie.” 

“Great, glad that’s covered. My girl is pretty, beautiful, and kind, Bit of a spitfire. It would be a shame is I kept her all to myself.” 

Gareth’s gaze finally turned up to Eddie, the spike and shock in his demeanor had Eddie smiling in amusement. 

“Yeah, like that idea?” 

“Stop shitting me dude.” 

“Im not shitting you!” 

Eddie flicked his cigarette Into the grass as they both near the school doors, Gareth’s heart rate picking up as he thinks about Eddie’s offer. And if it’s even real or not. 

“We wanna have a threesome, and want it to be you.” 

“E…Eddie I don’t know…” 

“Come onnnn, we both talked about it, it’s cool, we both trust you the most, you’re lucky I didn’t go to Grant first. All you gotta do is say yes.” 

Gareth’s cheeks turn pinkish at the thought, he’s never really let himself wonder about you. Because you were always Eddie’s girlfriend. The one time Jason make a joke about you in front of the cafeteria his nose got broken. 

So you can’t blame him for not thinking about you in that way. But now it’s like the golden gates are opening for him. Your pretty, sweet, soft voice. You come sometimes to watch corroded coffin rehears and you’re always sound so pretty while singing the lyrics. 

Gareth’s always thought about how Eddie was so lucky to have a girlfriend like you, supported him in everything and put up with his bullshit. 

But he can’t get his head too deep. Even if he did say yes, it was a sex thing. And probably a one time offer. 

Eddie pat Gareth on the shoulder a few times to get him out of his trance. “How ‘bout you think on it? I won’t say anything to the missus so you won’t hurt her feeling and give me an answer at the end of the day?” 

“End of the day?” 

That didn’t seem like enough time. He needed a least a week, and a hot shower. Fuck and tonight hellfire was playing and you always liked to watch. 

“Yeah end of today.” Eddie opened the door for him and the school noise only made Gareth get more lost in his own head. “See you at lunch?” Eddie was already walking ahead. Turning walking backwards so he could see Gareth’s expression.

“Yup.” He called out. “Lunch…” 

Gareth’s head has never felt more crowded. All he could think about all day was you. Who suggested the threesome first? It would be no surprise if Eddie did but what if it was you, and you just kept dirty secrets under those little skirts you wore the entire time. 

The idea about how it would go, there’s no doubt Gareth would fumble considering the only thing keeping him company at night for the moment is his right hand. 

And if he did happen to say yes what would it be like for Eddie and his friendship after. Would it be awkward? Gareth didn’t know if he wanted to lose his bestfriend over a girl. 

But fuck when Gareth walked into the hellfire club that day you were already in there sitting down, maybe it’s because he’s never really studied you before but Gareth was sure you looked more beautiful then usual. 

It’s like you were wearing intoxicating perfume that just made him enamored with you. It didn’t help that you were so kind. Calling him over to his seat like some siren to a ship. 

Gareth doesn’t want to think of himself too selfishly. But he swears both you and Eddie were playing it up all night. Sex Jokes out the wazoo. It’s like everywhere he looked he found Eddie’s hand on your thigh. Or you leaning over Eddie’s shoulder to read his notes, only for him to pinch said thigh and you to roll your eyes and giggle. 

If he’s being honest he could hardly focus that night. We’re all your shirts that low or has he just not seen a pair of tits in a while? Maybe instead of hooking up with you he should sneak in and rent a porno to get his head straight. 

Maybe he’s delusional, not enough water through out the day and he’s hallucinating. But he swore you were making eyes at him earlier and his face heated up so bad. He’s never been more happy that the lights in there are dim.

By the time the session was over everyone was talking shit about how bad he played. He brushed it off with “yeah, just thought I’d take it easy on you guys for once.” 

When he said that he heard your little laugh. You’re often laughing in the hellfire club room, but the fact that he directly made you laugh for once and he noticed had his heart sparking, and soothing inside him fluttering. 

It was the fastest decision of his life, only to be slightly taken back when Eddie casually answered what time to be at his trailer. But Gareth nodded, desperate and eager now. He didn’t want to let you down, or Eddie. And the thought of getting to fuck you started to plague him. 

The wait had to be the worst of his life. He would check the clock every five minutes wondering if now would be the appropriate time to leave. When the clock struck 5 he started walking to the trailer park. 

Every step he took closer to Eddie’s house the more his heart started to race. His head full of you, and Eddie, and you, and Eddie. Together. The image of Eddie fucking you had him sporting a semi as he walked. Did you moan loud or whimper? He didn’t know how this would work and he knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up for anything specific. 

Now that he really thinks about it. Watching on the sidelines and getting to see your naked form would be a dream come true. A blessing even to be graced with the sight of your bare flesh and Eddie’s hands clawing at your skin.

Gareth stood outside Eddie’s door like a teenager waiting to go out for prom, he knocked and the sight Gareth was greeted with was not something he was exactly hoping for, but almost welcoming.

Eddie stood shirtless in the doorway. Not anything he hasn’t seen before, and by the smell and the joint in Eddie’s lips he’s been smoking.

“Hey, get in here.” 

Gareth walked in. Everything was surprisingly normal. Living room with Dirty dishes, messy couch, loud music. It was like any other hang out. “Where’s….?” 

Eddie turned with an amused smile on his face before Gareth could even finish his sentence. “She went out. And will be back soon, dude smoke some. You look way too tense.” 

Eddie placed the joint into Gareth’s hands and he looks down at it, as if taunting him before bringing it up to his lips and sucking in. And Eddie was right, it calmed his nerves and the burn was a comfort, making his head a little floaty. 

With the way Eddie sat down on the couch so casually you would think it’s just any other weekend. There’s was always that lingering thought in the back of his head though. that he’s gonna get laid tonight but it started to fade the more he smoked and talked with Eddie. 

Gareth’s breath hitched well after getting stoned when you walked in the door, no knocking, no announcement. Just a soft “hi.” With a grocery bag on your arm. 

“Hey sweetheart, back so soon?” 

Gareth watched as you dropped the bag on the counter and patted over to Eddie, they both watched your legs in that skirt that was practically hypnotizing. You weren’t discouraged by the smell of weed or the fact that Eddie didn’t have a shirt on and his eyes were red.

“Wanted to be back fast.” You said Before sitting down next to Eddie, you looked up and send a pretty smile to Gareth and a little wave. “Hi Gareth, glad you could join us today.” 

“Y… yeah. Me too.” He didn’t know if there was a double meaning behind there, join us as in just hanging out? Or join us as we’re having a threesome. 

Gareth watched as you pressed a sweet kiss to Eddie’s lips, the term sweet didn’t last long. Eddie intensified it, kissing you harsher and more passionate. Eddie’s tongue skimming over your bottom lip. When your mouth opened a soft moan rang out past your plush lips.

Usually this would be the point Gareth excuses himself and doesn’t come back for a good ten minutes. But right now he feels torn between moving closer or just watching. 

Eddie’s hands pull you down into his lap with a little thud, and Gareth sees how his hands wonder under your shirt not nearly as nervous as him. Getting lost in the movements even. Gareth can’t blame him. If he had your beautiful body all to himself on his lap he would forget about his bestfriend sitting right next to him too. 

“Eddie—” you pull away, breathless and locking eyes with your boyfriend. A small string of saliva connects your lips until it breaks. Cold. “We gotta be good hosts.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes before looking over at Gareth. The intense gaze Eddie gave him had him feeling studied and a reck. He suddenly felt like he wasn’t prepared for this anymore and should have stayed home.

“You know how to kiss right?” Eddie was trying to tease, but Gareth nodded seriously. 

“Yeah I…I know how to kiss I’m not a fucking virgin.” 

Gareth ran a hand through his mop of curls and saw how Eddie raised his eyebrows in question, the silence was drawn out and loud. 

“I’m not!” His voice broke and embarrassment flooded to his perfectly rounded cheeks. Especially when you laughed, he watched as you got off Eddie’s lap and sat just right next to him. 

“Then show me.” You push, leaning over to him a little more and it’s like your eyes were quicksand, getting sucked into them more and more staring till he was trailing your features down to your lips.  “Show me you know how to kiss.” 

“I… I will…” he challenged, sparing one last look over to Eddie before gently holding at your cheek, your lips looked soft but he wasn’t in the mood for soft. He wanted to prove something. Gareth’s lips crashed onto yours, fumbling just a little at the beginning but deepening the kiss as it went on. He might not have been an amateur at kissing, but he wasn’t expert. Over estimating his confidence. 

It was different than kissing Eddie. Gareth’s lips were softer, and more full. his thumb brushed over your cheek as he breathed in all your air, stealing it from your lungs. Maybe it was the weed but Gareth swore kissing you was so different then kissing any of the girls at the bar.

This was more than Gareth could ask for. He was so sure a threesome between the three of you meant he would get to watch from the sidelines, maybe jerk off if he’s lucky and doesn’t come off as a creep. 

But now you’re climbing into his lap and he’s kissing you. Eddie Munsons girlfriend. The girl that volunteered herself to re paint one of the classrooms just because you liked painting. He feels your hands claw at his chest and then feels the couch dip right beside him. Eddie swings an arm over Gareth’s shoulder just like this morning, except this time it was different and weirdly more intimate. 

“Okay, come on, give me some sugar too sweetheart.” Eddie spoke softly. turning your head and lean over just slightly to start kissing Eddie again. Feverishly and passionate, but now that you were on Gareth’s lap he didn’t know where to put his hands. What was okay and what wasn’t. 

“Mm— dude.” 

Eddie pulls back from the kiss but it’s clear he doesn’t want to with how close your faces still are. 

“Touch her tits, she loves that shit.” 

“Really…?” 

“Mhm—“ 

Eddie kisses again and it left Gareth to his own devices, his hands don’t go under your shirt, at least not yet. But they smooth over your breasts and holds the heavy flesh in his hands, weighing it. He’s not a virgin. Yet he doesn’t know why he’s messing up so hard with you. 

“Man, if you don’t start fucking ravishing her I will.” Eddie pulls away with annoyance to look over at Gareth and for some reason he feels caught. 

“Sorry— just, been a while.” 

“Eddie cut it out.” Your voice was sweet as it chastised your boyfriend. your hands come up over his to palm harder at your breasts. “S’okay Gareth, you’re not doing anything wrong.” 

Gareth nods and is just a little rougher with his touch. Your body warmth felt like fire to his weed stricken brain, everything is so right yet so wrong. He finds his mind drifting to what your tits would look like under the shirt and then thinks what’s stoping him from looking? 

Gareth helps take your shirt off and even though your bra is nothing too fancy there’s still a little lace around the corners and a bow in the middle. 

“You know she was worried this morning.” 

“Huh?” 

Eddie leans in closer to Gareth like they’re whispering but it’s silly because you can still perfectly hear them both.

“Yeah. Going on and on about ‘should i wear this? Or that?’ Even asked me if she should shave.” He scoffs. 

“Eddie.” Embarrassment rises to your cheeks as Eddie talks and you silently curse him. 

“She was doing her making up in the van and curling her hair all pretty like just for you. She was afraid you’d say no.” 

“Edward.” 

Eddie doesn’t seem to care that he’s spilling such valuable secrets. Gareth looks up at you a little shocked with furrow brows. 

“Why— you’re so pretty.” 

“That’s what I said.” You ignore Eddie and look down at Gareth’s shirt, quiet and flustered. 

“I…I don’t know. I just wanted to be good for you I guess.” 

“That’s stupid. I was thinking I had to be good for you.” 

You shake your head softly. “No, you’re already perfect.” 

“I think you’re perfect too.” He said softly. 

Eddie watched the pair of you flirt like it was the first time. He was getting just a little jealous so he started to unhook your bra, tits spilling out and nipples peeking to the cool air. 

“You two ready to actually fuck? Or do I gotta watch more heart shaped eyes float around.” 

Your bra falls to the floor and Gareth’s hands skimmed up your sides, soft until goosebumps arise. you needed him to touch you now. With one last look over at Eddie he nods over to you. 

“You got free range man.” 

Gareth nods and lets out a shaky breath. First order of business is pinching at the peaked nipples. It stings at first but all those sparks just go down to your clit, rolling your hips on Gareth’s jeans. You watch as his Adam apple bobs, his eyes stay trained on you as one hand lingers all the way down your body. Softly trailing a snails line down under your skirt, and when Gareth feels at your underwear he finally looks down at the damp spot. 

“Shit— you’re like really wet.” 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper and Eddie rolls his eyes at your politeness. “You’re like really cute and— getting me all excited.” 

Gareth smiles and his skilled fingers brush your damp panties to the side, his pointer finger dips into your cunt before bringing that slight slick up to your hard clit, it’s like a paint brush to a canvas with the way he’s softly touching you. 

“Oh…” 

Gareth watch’s how your shoulders hunch over when you relax. Melting into his hold like a hot ice cube on a stove. His finger is feather light up and down before pushing harder circles into the nub. You hum that sounds like praise and appreciation has Gareth’s dick straining against his jeans. 

Eddie’s hands come to rub up and down your arms, suddenly there’s two different hands touching you. Two different pairs of eyes watching you unfold. “There we good sweetheart. This is what you wanted right?” Eddie asks all smug like.

You nod softly and your hips twitch against Gareth’s hand, you’re almost humping just his fingers at his point with how much more you need. Wanting those drummers hands to just slip inside. 

”I got this part. You finger the poor girl.” Eddie’s hand comes down your body and replaces the fingers on your clit, now two fresh cold fingers are pressing hard onto your nub, it’s familiar in the way you need it, but when another two fingers are priding at you entrance it’s a little different, making your brain do a double take. Only your brain sputters when Gareth’s fingers dip inside you. 

They’re not long fingers like Eddie’s, but they’re thick and his nails are cut short. You’re surprised when he curls those fingers right off the bat and into your g-spot making you gasp. 

“Oh yeah, just like that man. She likes that.” 

You pinch your eyes shut, feeling embarrassed by how easy to read you are even if it’s just by Eddie. Every soft sound you make, groan, hitch of breath, little whimper. It has Gareth’s ego climbing higher. And with how warm your pussy is all Gareth can think about is how good you would feel wrapped around him.

His fingers push in and out and with every curl you’re going dumb. Eddie’s rough circles on your clit are a stark difference then the fingers inside you and it’s dizzying, the two different actions. 

You’re so wet that juices are running down Gareth’s hand slowly. He wonders for a moment what you would taste like, if Eddie gets to have you like this every day he really is a lucky guy.

You claw at Gareth’s shoulder a little bit and he feels his face start to heat up. He’s already kissed you, and hopefully he will get to be inside you later, but the really small and soft touches are what gets him excited the most. 

Your hips try to stay still but you end up rocking into his fingers a little bit, wanting more, needing faster, there’s pleasure blooming and you’re feeling hot. “Gareth—” you chant softly, out of breath as your high nears 

“Yeah…?” He asked, fumbling to keep that same quick in and out speed that you like so he could get you over that edge, if he messed up now he doesn’t want to think about your or Eddie’s disappointed faces. 

“Fuck, s’good, faster please?” 

Such good manners. Gareth’s wants to tease, but his voice gets stuck in his throat. your nothing like the babes he picks up after shows. They’re usually drunk and don’t realize he’s still in high-school at nine teen. That’s probably because most of them are intoxicated and demanding, just looking for a quick lay.

But you are so sweet with it, asking so Nicely just to pick up on a pace that you so desperately need. Wanting to even freshen yourself up for a loser like him. No wonder Eddie brags about you all the time. 

You’re a dream. 

Gareth’s fingers pick up and you nod in appreciation, making higher and higher pitched noises. He’s proud of the slick sounds your cunt is making just for him. And Eddie too he guesses. 

Your face is flush with hair sticking to your forehead and it’s the prettiest thing Gareth has ever seen, maybe it’s the light, or his short circuiting brain but you could be a on every vogue magazine. You should be on every vogue magazines. Rutting your hips a stain has made its way onto his pants but he can’t care. Not now when your hand trails into his hair and he almost swoons. 

“Please, please, please don’t stop—”

“Not going too.” 

Gareth shakes his head and he can feel your walls tighten around his fingers as your orgasm approaches. breathing heavy one moment and then biting your lip to not breath at all. It’s like the pleasure is so overwhelming you can’t decide on which action to choose.

You look over at Eddie for the first time in a while, his expression isn’t as dazed as Gareth because he’s seen you cum more times than he can count. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love watching. Not just as mesmerized. Eyes boring into you as his fingers fumble over your wet and sticky clit. It’s clear both men want you. Desire you even. 

That thought tips you over the edge, cumming over both men’s fingers while pleasure over takes you like getting lost at sea. Waves crashing over you as your cunt rapidly pulses having your head get thrown back. 

When Eddie removes his fingers Gareth takes that as a sigh and slowly slides his fingers out of your pussy too. It should be embarrassing how they automatically gone to his mouth and lick at the remanning slick, but it’s not when he finally gets to taste you. Head pounding with the sworn taste of you. Next time— if there is a next time. He wants your legs around his head until he’s flushed as red as a cherry so he can taste from the source. It would be a long session.

You brush some hair behind your ear and put on that shy girl act. Like you weren’t just begging to cum on his fingers a moment ago. “Thanks…” 

“Uh huh. yeah. No problem.” Gareth hopes it doesn’t end here, you still on his lap and if he was a worse man he would bend you over the couch. Make you give him a reason to come back. But you’re so pretty, and Eddie’s girl. He can’t exactly do whatever he wants with you.

“Sweetheart.” Eddie’s hand is curving up your back and the shiver is making you arch. He nods to the tent in Gareth’s jeans and you get the hint. “How about you show our guest how good that mouth works.” 

Gareth sees the smile on your face as you clamber to reach the floor on your knees, which would be a beautiful sight, but Eddie stops you.

“Nu huh. Up here sweetheart.” 

Eddie pats the couch and you’re standing back on shaky feet. You get where this is going when you see Eddie start to undo his jeans. 

“Don’t worry about me okay? You work on being a good hostess baby.” 

Your ass is in the air by the time you get settled on the couch and your face to face with Gareth’s jeans. His Bonner is straining against the pants yet you still have the time to tease him by looking up into his eyes and mumbling out a soft. “Hi.” 

“Hi, again.” Gareth laughs nervously and he has to force himself to keep his hands by his sides. Truth was. he was nervous, just because he wasn’t a virgin doesn’t mean he ever received a blowjob before. 

And now you’re getting up close and personal with his junk and your hands are sliding up his thighs making his dick twitch in anticipation. 

“Ohhh….okay.” 

Just like you, Gareth relaxes into himself once his jeans are down far enough and he’s kicking them off, when you touch his cock he softens like all the stress of performing goes away. 

“Okay, okay okay okay—“ 

Eddie turns to give Gareth a slightly amused look. Halfway done sliding your wet panties down. “You okay over there?” 

“Yeah. yeah, no I just— never had this before….” 

Eddie scoffs and you stop tugging his cock with your hand. “Dude. What about that chick, Veronica? You said it was the best head ever.” 

“Yeah well— I lied okay? I didn’t want to hear about you sixty nineing your girlfriend anymore so I made bullshit up.” 

You and Eddie share a look. One of understanding or amusement Gareth can’t tell. But he definitely hears it when Eddie mumbles in your ear. “What a fucking loser….” 

“Eddie.” You kick his shin and Eddie laughs as he stumbles, using you as his support, his hands all over your naked body making his brain fuzzy.

“Okay— sorry, gee, take it easy on him okay? it’s his first time getting head.” 

You roll your eyes but when Gareth sees your attention all come back on him it’s like your face speaks for itself. You’re gonna ruin him for any other blowjobs he ever gets. 

And he knows that for a fact the first time you put your mouth on him. Tongue swirling around his tip. Gareth’s cock is heavy, it curves down but most importantly he’s thick. Not as long as Eddie but different in width. You wouldn’t mind sitting on it at least for a few hours. You might not feel him in your guts but you know he’d stretch your walls open perfectly. 

You let spit accumulate over the top of his dick first and watch it run down before bobbing your head down this length. Gareth’s eyes flutter rapidly like he can’t tell if he wants to watch or not, having your warm mouth spin around his cock. It’s different than just regular sex. 

“Ok— shit.” 

You try and hide your smile by going further down on his cock, it hits the back of your throat and you gag, very unpretty noise but Gareth’s hand comes flying down into your hair. It’s not hard, but it’s there like he wants to keep you down. So you oblige. 

You’re keen on your task of handling Emerson, but tensing when you feel Eddie’s tip slip past your entrance. You’re already sensitive from your previous orgasm but it’s like Eddie’s working you up all over again with how the tip of his dick hits your clit rapidly. 

“That’s good— oh shit that’s really good.” Gareth breaths rapidly above you, torn between throwing his head back and keeping his eyes on you. Eddie finally finally pushes in from behind you, his dick long and filling you up to where you feel it in your throat. You have to pause with Gareth just staying at his tip for a moment till you can regain your bearings. 

“No no— come on sweetheart your can take it.” 

Eddie pushes your head all the way back down unexpectedly, it burns your throat a little and tears prick your eyes. Breathing through your nose but you get the memo. Don’t stop. Not even if Eddie’s rearranging your guts. 

Eddie starts with slow tentative thrusts that do nothing to stop the flaming in your lower region. Just like that you’re taking two dicks like a champ like you’ve been doing it every weekend. 

“Fuck— shit, oh Eddie she’s—”

It’s evident that Gareth is close by the way his hand is finally pushing your head down into his cock at his leisure. His hips are bucking into your drolly mouth and it’s hard to focus when Eddie starts move faster inside of you. 

You feel Gareth’s cock start to twitch by the muscle of your tongue and no sooner then later is cum is dribbling into your mouth and he’s spewing out moans and apologies. “Shit sorry, you just— feels S’good.” 

He’s still cumming when you hear Eddie let out a breathless chuckle behind you. Mostly in an agreement because you can feel Eddie pick up the pace on your weeping cunt. Apparently you do give the best blowjobs.

You pull off Gareth’s dick but not before swallowing all his seed, you watch as he doesn’t soften right away and instead looks up at the ceiling like he’s lost a part of his mind. His hand stays on your head in a comforting sort of way, more for him than you. 

Though when his cheeks are all red and puffy like that, reminding you almost of a baby that hasn’t lost all of its fat yet. He looks almost angelic, like he has the face famous artists paint on huge ceilings and you know why now. Because you never want to forget this moment. 

Your tongue takes a hesitant swipe on the underside of his cock and Gareth hisses at the stimulation. “Hey—” he warns but there was no bite in his words. 

You rap your lips around Gareth’s tip once more and deep thoating was easier the second time. Every time you moaned it vibrated onto his dick and his legs started to shake close to your head. 

“Shit fuck shit, Eddie dude—”

It was almost adorable how Gareth tried to find help in Eddie. But he was too busy fucking behind you. When Eddie’s head did pick up he smiled at the sight, almost scoffed. “Just let her get her fill in man.” 

Gareth whimpered, actually whimpered as he tried to pull your hair to get you off him. It sent a wave of slick straight to your heated core and you felt another coil start to build in your lower stomach. 

Gareth fought between thrusting up into your mouth or trying to pull away again, it was too much and not enough at the same time. And Eddie was groaning in your ear. His hand came down in between your body’s and fumbled with you clit. Hot spikes going through your body. 

Every part of you felt like you were being emerged in hot lava. Making your brain slow down with every thrust from behind you and in front of you. 

“Fuckkkk…” Eddie moaned, he felt the ways your walls twitched against him. Sucked him in like a new vacuum. “You fucking wish you could have this cunt Emerson.” 

You look up and Gareth is nodding his head. It’s adorable how he wishes he could have you just like Eddie, probably what he thought about all the way over here. 

“She’s so warm. So much better than your right fucking hand. Every time I go in she pushes back like she wants more you know?” 

Gareth is biting his lip to stop embarrassing sounds fall out. But it doesn’t work because he’s still groaning, raw and unfamiliar. Gareth’s looking down into your eyes, as if a plea to stop or keep going. You chose the latter.

Your abdomen tenses as that coil pressed hard down, like a rolling bolder down a hill and it’s about to crash. “Can feel her—“ Eddie’s breath is labored. His eyes are closed as he focuses on trying to get you over the edge first. “Just squeezing me, you feel so good baby. Doin’ so well.” 

Eddie’s praise, makes your toes curl. Dirty words flood your ears and it rips another orgasm from you. Whining around Gareth’s cock has his breath hitching, sweat forms at his brow and it’s like he’s given up on trying to push you off even with all the extra stimulation. 

Eddie thrusts are rough inside as you cum around him. He’s working you through it but your twitchy walls make his brain go numb. He’s biting your shoulder as he cums inside you. Gareth can’t see but with the way Eddie’s hips start to slow against your ass means he gets the picture. And the fact that you let Eddie cum inside. Like he fucking marks your walls as his own, that you both have that much trust in each other. 

That maybe he could do that next time? 

The thought has him spilling into your mouth again. Lighter load this time but you still swallow it all and do a good job sucking it all from him. So good it starts to ache when his dick softens. 

“Fuck Eddie— get your girl a fucking leash.” 

Everyone’s breathing heavily and the room smells a little funky afterwards but you hear Eddie laugh softly from behind you. 

“Doesn’t sound half bad.” 

You roll your eyes and your eyes close when Eddie pulls out. Falling on your back quickly there’s an ache on either side of your legs and one in your middle. Your mouth is dry despite just being filled with cum but it’s a different kind of dry. 

Your head falls onto Gareth’s leg and he stiffens. You literally just had him in your mouth and he still nervous around you, around innocent touches. When Gareth looks up he sees you’ve shoved your feet under Eddie’s bare thigh. He’s either trying to push your foot away or make it warmer. Gareth can’t tell by the way you’re both giggling at each other.

You stop eventually and your head cranes back to look at Gareth upside down. There’s a beautiful smile on your face showing all your upper teeth and sweaty face that absolutely glows. 

“You okay?” You ask gently and watch as Gareth nods. 

“Yeah, fine.” 

You nod back and then your hand automatically goes up in the air to Eddie, it’s like he reads your mind when you mumble “joint?” 

Eddie groans as he has to actually get up. Shucking his pants back up and halfassed closing your legs on the way to leave. If he looks at your dripping cunt for too long he might want to go for another round. 

There’s silence when Eddie leaves. Other than the rustling coming from the bedroom as Eddie finds the joint. Gareth doesn’t know if you’re gonna kick him out or not. The air is comforting, or is it tense? He can’t tell when your hair that’s all knoted up over his thigh. He wants to brush it away, run his finger through it. Touch you for as long as he can to get his full before he has to go home touch starved again tonight. 

You smile up at him and he looks at you like you’ve hung all the stars. You notice him staring and there’s that giddy smile you’re always wearing appears. 

Eddie comes back with a little pep in his step and the joint is already lit and he’s handing it to you. You bring it to your lips and Eddie’s reopening your legs when a towel gets pressed to your mounds. 

“Eddie! That’s cold.” You squeak.

“Oh my gosh, so spoiled.” 

Gareth sees the easy banter between you too. He curses himself for thinking it could be that easy between you and him too. Your not just Eddie’s girlfriend, you were apart of the whole group now. From when you show up for band practice and shows to hellfire and beer nights. 

Gareth watches as you suck in on the joint, same lips that were rapped around his cock not moments ago. You’re staring up at him with intense eyes, like you’re trying not to smile or trying to figure him out. 

He shouldn’t feel this honored when you blow the gray smoke in his face and he breaths it in. He takes that for what it is though. A promise. And it only deepens when you ask. 

“Do you wanna come over tomorrow…?”

Gareth looks up at Eddie and watches as he shrugs, throwing the soiled rag at his chest. 

“Yeah.” Gareth nods. “Yeah I really do.” 

[petalborn]

18+ thinking poly!steddie + pussy eating thoughts

eddie’s already buried in you, fingers curling inside you with his rings digging into your slick puffy lips— all while his tongue drags wet, teasing lines over your clit, making you whine and tremble. “fuck… eddie, i’m—i’m gonna…” you moan, hips rolling into him, and he groans, dragging you closer. “shit, baby… steve, get over here,” he mutters, and steve’s there in an instant, hands on your ass, spreading you filthy and wide. lips hot and sloppy on your thighs, dragging kisses and nips everywhere, groaning as his mouth alternates between your folds and sloppy, half kissing eddie. they’re all over each other too, half making out, teeth brushing, tongues tangling, uncoordinated and messy, while still keeping their mouths buried in you, mouths, fingers, hands, hair everywhere, dizzying and overwhelming. “damn… you’re so fucking wet for us,” steve rasps, fingers curling inside you while his lips suck and lick at your clit, occasionally brushing eddie’s mouth, groaning against him as he buries himself between your thighs. eddie’s fingers pump faster, curling just right, tongue dragging along your folds, while he moans into your pussy and steals sloppy kisses from steve in between, tugging you down into the chaotic center of both of them. your body shakes, trembling, dripping, moaning their names, “please… both of you… don’t stop…” and they respond instantly, uncoordinated, messy, hot and dizzying, mouths and hands colliding, groaning into each other and into you, tugging at your hair, kneading your ass, curling fingers, sucking, licking, biting, whispering praise and dirty promises. the combination—the chaos of their sloppy mouths, tangled bodies, and relentless fingers—pushes you over the edge, shattering around them, legs trembling, hips jerking, screaming, moaning, utterly lost in the mess of them, and even as you come apart, they don’t stop, claiming every inch of you, tasting, praising, groaning, tangled and uncoordinated, dizzying, filthy, and completely yours.

[tommyknards-archive]

1K CELEBRATION ✰ make me choose for @chrrispine ↳ Edward Teach or Eddie Munson

[seinfeldr]

[greenlikethesea]

i think my favorite thing about eddie munsion is that he stole our hearts even tho he is, in essence, a dorky wet lil weirdo who is having -- and i cannot stress this enough -- the worst week of his life

[punk-in-docs]

🩸Love like Blood🩸

Vampire!Eddie x Reader, One Shot

10k words

‼️ TW ‼️; some pretty dark themes in this one shot; (I mean it) non-con sex, blood drinking, vampires bites and pretty heavy predator/prey dynamics. Also a lot of filthy dirty animal sex.

🩸Also to be found on AO3 if you’d prefer…🩸

(Beautiful picture courtesy of a post someone sent me of Vamp!Eddie by @cherubsfool)

Summary: He fully believes hell has opened its snake jaw and devoured him whole- cause this is, just, unbelievable.

Okay, maybe he hasn’t been swallowed into hell. Maybe, just maybe, it’s that hell has chewed him up, and spat him back out.

He tried to stand and is amazed when he can. Bearing his own weight again. Stood tall. Slowly creaking and cracking to life.

Life or Death?    

Keep reading

[fyeaheddiemunson]

That smile 😭