A BALDUR'S GATE THREE AU EDDIE MUNSON X READER COMING SOON
WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, murder, cult activity, prostitution, etc.
SYNOPSIS: In the bustling center of Wyrmβs Crossing stands the beautiful flame of Sharessβ Caress. Your time as a courtesan keeps you well paid and occupied, many citizens of Baldur's Gate come to see you, their Tasty Tiefling. Youβve got a favorite customer, always stealing you away for nights on end, paying extra to spend his time with you only, with a lingering darkness under his rough skin. That is until one day he stops coming to see you. That high elf walked in and ruined everything. Stealing away his attention, turning his gaze away from you and to herself. Thereβs a vengeful feeling in your gut, an urge to get him back.
AUTHORS NOTE: hi everyone!! i wanted to get a few snippets of this story out as i've been working on it for the past few months. it is still very much in progress but i'm just so excited to share!! feedback and reblogs always appreciated. lemme know if you would like to be added to the taglist! happy reading
Eddie laughs in response, pulling away from your pussy after a final kiss to your hole. When he stands, the candlelight cascades a velvety, warm glow on the shine of his chin. βWhat, pretty girl? I do believe I paid enough for anything I desire. Maybe I want to stay all night between these thighs, huh?β
Reaching behind you, you grab one of the silk-covered pillows and gently throw it at the Half-Elf. βI know you wanna fuck me too.β
He catches the pillow in his hand and tosses it onto the bed beside you with a shrug. βHmm, you're right. I do want to fuck that tight pussy. You know me so well, dirty girl.β
The candle on your bedside flickers sporadically, shadows dance on the wooden panels behind Eddie. Heβs beautiful, you think to yourself. Electricity warms your veins, carefully eyeing down his silhouette. His nimble fingers unbutton the grey of his pants, pulling them down his thighs and to the floor.
The stygian pools of his eyes meet yours and he gives you a smile, and in a moment the thick of his cock springs free from the constraints of the cotton. βHeβs already leaking for you baby.β You break the eye contact to watch him, watching as his hand wraps around the base, pulling the extra skin and exposing the heavy tip, already leaking with precum.
Eddieβs head twitches as his own thumb runs over the slit of his cock, collecting the release. He leans forward to you, and gently grasps your chin. βOpen up.β You part your lips as he slowly presses his thumb into your wet mouth.
A soft moan escapes from his lips as you suck on the skin, salty taste on your tongue. βSuch a good girl for me.β He whispers as he pulls away from your mouth. βLay back, let me take care of her.β
Eddie cages you under him, propped up between your thighs, running his cock through the mess of your folds. You whine as the tip of him nudges your clit.
The swollen head of his cock presses into you, stretching you open as your cunt takes the length of him. βOh great Dread Lord, youβre so good. Always so tight for me.β
A enticing feeling rises in your chest at his words and you remember the whispered words of Flaming Fists around the city, spine-chilling stories of the murder lord. You must have heard wrong, you think, something despicable storing in the hazy, lust filled fog in your brain. You close your eyes, hands grasping at his back, focusing in on the delicious feel of his cock pressing deeper.
The Half-Elf mumbles softly. βPlease baby.β
Despite the storm of fear swirling in your mind, you nod, picking out the light in the darkness, the anticipation rising within the confides of your heart and the heat pooling between your legs at the sight of him.
The air inside of your bedroom feels awfully thick, the metallic scent of blood from his hot skin mixing with the fresh twilight air. As your bare feet press against the smooth wool carpet, you watch Eddieβs backside closely. The way his shoulders tense with each step, the dark curls matted together, the same crimson spread across his forearms and pooling into the cotton of his top.
βIs my devotion not payment enough?β
A giggle escapes your lips, meeting his deep topaz eyes, full of thought and adoration for you. βA little strange to be devoted to a devil hmm?β
He rolls his dark eyes, a smile creeping up his cheeks, playful banter allowing his shoulders to relax. He leans into you, lips just a whisper away from your own. βYou forget me, my love, I would pray to even Zariel herself for you.β
βI would fight on the front lines of the Blood-War, tracking through Avernus with wanton violence for you. Spend the rest of my days running from Fiends and Archdevils to stay by your side.β
You sink to your knees with his eloquent words, passion seeping from your pores. The rough of his trousers presses against the palms of your hands as you run them along his thighs. βYouβre so sweet tonight, are you sure a changeling didn't get to you?β
Something twisted lights in his eyes. βOh? Did you find out my terrifying secret?β A breathy gasp leaves his mouth once you tug the fabric down his legs. βShall I punish thee for exposing the delicious truth? Noβ¦ tch, my devil likes the idea donβt you?β
pairing: best friend!steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 3.7k words
description: the summer changed you two forever.
important warnings: 18+ content, MDNI!!, no use of y/n or descriptors but reader has a backstory, no smut just angst, this one is heavy, mentions of intense depression and ptsd, flashbacks to childhood, steve's has medical issues in the aftermath of s3, reader is mentally unstable, mentions of using alcohol to cope with it, nightmares, using medication, rejection, kissing, no happy ending (yet).
this is a multi-part series: part one - two
author's note: hank you all for the love on this series. i have so much more to share with you. I promise the love and happiness is coming soon, just gotta get them through the rough stuff. pls like, reblog, and comment <3
playlist while listening: end of august by noah kahan / the cure by olivia rodrigo / fine line by harry styles / peace by taylor swift
You were a terrible smoker.
You were always attempting to take in more smoke than your lungs could handle. The coughs and hacks were constant and guttural.
But you needed something to fixate on that was not Steveβs shirtless body being backlit by the sunset across the lake. Heβs submerged up to his chest, wading and looking towards the same beautiful sky you were taking in. Every time you saw the expanse of his shoulders and his bare chest, you envision those horrible bruises that riddled his tanned skin. They have finally faded with time, but you can picture them so clearly.
August was always humid in Hawkins, but this past week, itβs been overwhelmingly muggy and potent.
You were going to miss moments like this. The simplicity and the sweat you resent now, but would yearn to feel going down your neck and spine later.
You take another puff, finally not choking immediately.
Steve finally moves from his swaying position to look back, eyeing you up on the rock formation you are sprawled across. You never swam in the lake, always taking up the real estate on the shore or tucking yourself up on a rock to observe Steveβs backstroke or look out for fish in the shallow end.β
βYou never get better with those things,β He mutters, standing up and brushing his hand across his nice-toned stomach.
He slowly moves up to the shore, dropping onto the muddy grass with an oof. He had not said much to you the entire time you two had been here, which you didnβt mind. You were caught up in your own rattling thoughts.
It had been almost two months since the mall fire. Thatβs what the local news and townspeople have been labelling it.
You were grappling with the nightmares and living in a constant state of anxiety throughout every single day since. Being in public was overwhelming, which made your job search fruitless. Your parents were not pressuring you much. They knew that what you had gone through was crippling you from doing your normal tasks.
Your only partial solace is being with Steve. He made you feel safe in a way not even your mother made you feel. A shared experience and an unspoken understanding that no one in the world could even comprehend.
There was still this part of your soul that had been stripped away. You had been obsessive about trying to narrow down what made you so anxious, but you did not know if you should search for it or accept that this is how you would be forever.
You had been attached to Steveβs hip, sure, but heβs only a mere mortal. He cannot make you any better.
But he has yet to complain about you being near him all the time. If anything, it seems like he is enjoying your time together, distracting him from some of the weird medical stuff heβs been dealing with and that residual anxiety he tried to shield from your prying eyes.
Two weeks ago, you drove out to the audiologist a few hours away with him because of the constant ringing in his ears. He held your hand in the waiting room while his leg bounced. When his name was called, you gave him a reassuring smile as he dropped your hand to see if they could solve his problem.
But people are terrible at having answers for either of you.
As the days go on, you notice some slight positive changes, but they are slow to come back.
Heβs not shaking his head as much, telling you the ringing actually goes away for small increments during the day. You chalk it up to the variety of medications heβs on.
His fingernails are growing back and arenβt bleeding as much due to his abuse of them. He gnawed them down to the cuticles and had bandaids on every other finger for a month.
Just last week, you were able to actually sleep for more than 4 hours. With the light on. Your doctor has not been notified about your sleeping habits. Or the fact that you cannot close your eyes at night without rehashing the Mindflayerβs wrath and the following days.
You numbed those intense, vivid memories with wine you stole from your fatherβs large wine cabinet in the basement. It was becoming the only thing you could rely on to pull your thoughts away from that entire incident. You knew it was bad. You knew that you could not get dependent on it. You had only done it three times when you were really desperate and exhausted. You couldnβt shut your eyes without envisioning Steve sacrificing himself for Dustin. Even though that had not happened, your mind became obsessed with laying out that scene. The alcohol numbed you enough that it became a small crutch. But you were becoming uneasy with the idea that you would never feel at peace without it.
You promised yourself two nights ago that you would stop. And you have.
You just wanted to be normal again.
βThe more I smoke, the better I get.β
He grimaces at your response. Heβs quick to hop up onto your rock throne and snatch the unlit end from your fingers. βNope.β
βWhat do you mean nope?β
βMeaning I am not letting you get better at it. Find a new oral fixation.β
You roll your eyes when his dripping wet shorts leave tiny droplets on your bare thigh. He ashes out the cigarette, dropping down next to you.
He was not going to stop you from figuring out a way to redirect your traumatized brain.
βI think itβs time you change the subject.β
You wipe off some of the water with your pointer finger, focusing your eyes elsewhere.
βFineβ¦I think Robin has a lead on a job,β Steve states as he stretches his shoulders and leans back onto his palms beside you. His long legs hang over the side of the miniature cliff, and he kicks them like a toddler on a swing. He can never sit still.
βOh, really?β You draw a heart with the residual water, right on your knee. βWhere?β
βBefore she left, she said that the new video store on Kersey was hiring. Apparently, she knows the manager.β
You hum before you speak, βThatβs great, Iβm sure sheβll get it. She knows a lot about movies.β
βMaybe we could all get a job there.β
You shoot him a glance. Heβs still looking over the lake, now wrapping his arms around his knees. He tucks himself inward, and as he does, his wet thigh brushes over yours.
βI wouldnβt count on that, Steve.β
He smirks, his hazel eyes finally meeting yours. You would not dare look away from him, now. Β He looked too pretty in the orange and pink hues that took over the entire sky. His hair is slicked back, but three tiny strands are curled onto his forehead. He hasnβt shaved for the last couple of days, so his face is a bit more stubbly.
You wonder if he notices the small things about you. You wonder if he can read your mind and see that you are hiding something from him.β
βBut just imagine! You, me, Robin,β His brows raise in excitement, βWorking in a video store with endless movies to watch.β
βYeah, itβd be cool, but I am not putting my faith into something like that.β
His face slightly droops, obviously annoyed by your passiveness. You had not been that gung-ho about anything lately. You were overly cautious to really put all your eggs in one basket. And with Steve, he tried to be optimistic if it was something that came to you.
His shoulder pushes you, shifting your ass across the rough platform you were on, βWhy are you being a stick in the mud?β
You manage a half-assed giggle, βIβm just being realistic.β
βWell, Iβd like to daydream about a world where I get to work with my best friends.ββ
You stare out over the bugs that are settling over the haze of the lake water.
Life seems simple here. The outdoors have always made you feel some sort of freedom you yearned for growing up. Thatβs why you loved driving around, too. Fresh air, open road, your best friend by your side. You did not have to worry about the pressure of doing anything. No one was waiting for you. No one needed your input or opinion.
You didnβt have the constant reminder that your childhood was basically behind you.
This summer was really hammering that home.
When September hits, you wonβt be able to sit in this spot without a hoodie or jeans on. You liked the piercing sun on your bare legs and shoulders, not the frigid overcast that Indiana was permanently stuck in during the fall.
There was a time when you didnβt mind it. When you got together with friends during October to go trick-or-treating. The fall festival Hawkins always hosted in the town center. Thanksgiving at your Grandmaβs, and your uncles would pile a bunch of leaves for you and your cousins.
It was the season you started getting close to Steve.
6th-grade chorus Christmas concert. You two were stuck next to each other on the risers, and he would intentionally sing the wrong note to make everyone laugh. You would nudge him to keep him on track, and somehow that spiraled into you two walking home side by side every day.
He was easy to talk to. He was enthusiastic about just about everything you said. He would get this twinkle in his eyes when you would talk about your new favorite song or all the boys you had crushes on.
That twinkle had faded quite a bit over time, but on rare occasions, youβd catch a hint of it when you teased him.
You click your tongue, thinking of a way to steer the conversation. Faux optimism. Thatβll get him.
You nudge him with your shoulder, βIf you get a job there, maybe youβll meet some chicks.β
His face flickers, staring in the opposite direction. Itβs almost like the comment made him uncomfortable. βI think that ship has sailed.β
You donβt know why heβs being weird now. So you double down, trying to joke more, so maybe he will give it back to you.
βWhat do you mean? You trying out guys for size?β
βDonβt be an ass,β He gives you a hint of a smile, scanning your face, βNo, like, I donβt know. I just feel likeβ¦ I want to focus on me. Figure out what I really want.β
You bite your lip, only encouraging him to continue. βThat is important.β
βWith Nancy, I felt like I knew exactly what I wanted. But the more Iβ¦β He pauses, really contemplating his next words. His fingers tap on his bare knee, βI guess getting older shines a light on different parts and people in your life.β
Itβs endearing to hear him talk like this. Steve is a lot of things, but heβs rarely sentimental. So hearing that he is taking into account different people in his life, and their meaning to the bigger picture, made you happy.
βAw, Steve Harrington gettinβ all old and wise on me?β
βHopefully.β
The intense rise of bugs buzzing and making noise makes you believe you misheard him. Your brow twitches as you scan him all the way from his feet to his suddenly very serious expression.
βHopefully?β
βYeah, hopefully I get old and wise with you.β
Your eyes flicker down at his lips. Only the briefest glance before locking back onto his eyes.
βThatβs not what I meant.β
He looks at your lips, βBut itβs what I meant.β
It makes goosebumps rush across your skin.
You needed to create a barrier. Distance. Deflect. Something.
You slide off the slicker part of the rock, finding your footing in the mud below. You trek through, not saying anything because you are already sick of the way Steve has been making you feel lately.
Like thereβs something unsaid. Something that lies in wait, waiting for you to pull back the curtain.
But you were sick of that. Having to be the one who pressed forward when things got too real. It made you feel stupid and anxious.
You could count on one hand the sly comments like this Steve had made towards you in the last week.
Heβs all talk.
Because if there was more intention behind what he said, there would be a follow up. A kiss. A holding of your hand. A heated gaze. Something.β
But it always resulted in some casual joke or him averting his eyes away from you.
As you work your way up to the tall grass and dirt path, you hear Steveβs rapid footsteps behind you. His bare feet splatting on the mushy ground, his breath uneven.
βHey!β
You instantly begin rambling, trying to disconnect from what just happened. βWe should get home, itβs getting dark.β
βWhat just happened?β
You try to play stupid, but it sounds strained, βWhat?β
He does his normal stance. Both hands on his hip, one leg slightly jutted out. Eyes narrowed, his nose slightly scrunched.
βI think we should stop dancing around this.β
You cross your arms over your chest, not wanting to hear much more from him. That was until he moved from his spot, inching closer to you with those oogling eyes.
βFor fucks sake, Steve.β
His face flickers, βWhat!?β
When his hand reaches out for your hand thatβs placed on top of your forearm, you snatch it away. Maybe these physical queues were not enough after all. You still did not want it. You felt like this was wrong somehow. Like your best friend must have really gotten his brain rattled in his skull during his fight with the Russians a couple of months ago, and caved into a delusional world that centered around his genuine feelings for you.
βYou donβt feel that way about me, okay? You canβt. You donβt.β
He looks offended, but his hand still tries to reach out again to yours. You let him take it this time, but you donβt wrap your fingers around his knuckles.
βYou donβt get to tell me how I feel about you!β He barks, pulling you closer. You brace yourself against his chest, trying not to fall too much closer into him, βJesus, do you hear yourself?β
βYes. Loud and clear,β You whisper, dropping all physical contact with a quick swivel.
With your back turned to him now, you take three steps before his voice rings out again.
βIs it me? Am I-β
You shift back, head snapping towards him to stop him mid-sentence, βSteve, stop.β
βIβm not good enough?β
You shake your head, knowing heβs about to jump down the rabbit hole of self-deprecation.
βThatβs not it at all.β
βThen tell me!β
His voice is shaking, and he looks uneasy, like he may throw up.
βI am not someone you need to love because Iβve just been around for a while,β You state before biting down on your lips, as if to seal them off from saying more. There was more to your rationale, but it felt like the wrong time to say it.
His face relaxes slightly, like he was about to change your mind. Like this was just a misunderstanding that he could fix with a confession. βDid you not hear me earlier?β
You did, but you wish you hadnβt. You are mad that this conversation was even sparked because you were not ready to have it.
βI am an idiot because I didnβt see you earlier, Bug! God, I was the biggest idiot ever! Because everything that I could possibly want has been here the entire time! Nancy was great, and yeah, I have had other crushes before, but I was always trying to be something else for them. Iβm me when Iβm with you. I want that. I want you.β
It was like your entire life flashed before your eyes as he poured his heart out. You see yourself falling in love with him, spending every holiday together. Then a wedding by a beautiful lake, just like the one youβre currently at. Then children. Two or three. A small baby in your arms while two toddlers run around the backyard of the beautiful home that Steve fixed up. Going to soccer games and hosting birthday parties. When they grow up, you and Steve fall into a lifeless routine where you make dinner when he gets home from his 9-5, and you watch TV together on the couch. Then repeat that every day. Until youβre old and the grandchildren come by to try to fill that void you are harboring.
Then you die, old and miserable and completely unfulfilled.
And the entire time you watch this flash go by, you recognize the lifeless eyes you display. That residual ache that is currently lingering in your bones stays around forever, and youβre never fully present in every small moment that truly matters. Sure, you can share those happy moments, but youβre truly unfeeling.
All because you had a part of you ripped out of you when you were a teenager. All the love Steve gave you wasnβt enough. Your children were never enough. You were never fucking enough. Your brain and heart were toxic and poisonous, and you remained stuck in one place the entirety of your life.
It makes you sick to your stomach. You cannot put Steve through that.
βYou can be you around me. I love that,β You say gently, as a single tear drops from your eye, βMore than you even know. But Iβmβ¦ Iβm not me, right now, okay? Iβmβ¦ Iβm not ready. Iβm anxious, and my brain is fucking muddled with all these racing thoughts all the time. I am not me with you. Or anyone. Not right now. If you had said this at the beginning of summer, sure. I was different then. I was normal. But you donβt want me like this.β
Heβs quick to respond, reaching back out and pulling you towards him. Heβs pleading now. βI do.β
Your lip quivers as you speak, βYou wonβt. You donβt.β
βIβm with you every day, already. Why does a label change that?β
βIβm not going to be your girlfriend because I need to fix me first, and I cannot do that when you want something from me! Iβm not going to be someone you deserve.β
He cradles your face, looking down at you with the utmost admiration. His eyes are slightly misty, but at this angle, you can only really focus on how much green is laced throughout his iris, mixing in with that golden brown.
He was so goddamn pretty you wished your heart was ready to fully take him on. But you know youβd be doing him a disservice. You needed to figure some shit out first. You didnβt know what, but there was something.
βCan I justβ¦β His thumb sweeps over your chin, βCan I kiss you?β
You feel like you almost look through him when you respond, βItβs not going to change my mind.β
βI donβt care, I just need to.β
You donβt know why you nod, but you do. β
In all honesty, you hope that it will change your mind. That the electricity of finally kissing Steve after years of pining after him would heal you and wake you up from whatever youβre dealing with.
He presses his lips into yours, but instead of melting into it, you go completely rigid. His right palm cradles your cheek as his fingers pass your hairline. His left hand travels down your shoulder, making you more aware of where itβs passing through and not the fact that heβs trying to get you to move your lips with his.
His hand finally stops right on your elbow as he withdraws from your mouth.
His eyes are still closed, and thatβs when it hits you that you had your eyes open the entire time. β
He doesnβt say anything, just stands millimeters from your face. The air grows tense the moment you unintentionally exhale loudly. Like a sigh of relief that the kiss is finally over. β
That rubs him the wrong way. It would rub you the wrong way, too.
He is quick to start towards the car, snatching his t-shirt from a nearby branch he used as a hanger, βLetβs get you home.β
You blink rapidly, suddenly feeling the need to tell him what youβve been meaning to tell him. Maybe this was the right time.
βIβm going to live with my aunt.β
He stops dead in his tracks, his t-shirt balled up in his hands like he wants to throw it like a basketball. βWhat?β
The plans had been confirmed the evening prior. Your mom reached out to her sister, and she agreed to have you stay with her in the city. Your struggles did not need to be Hawkinβs problem. You needed to be somewhere else.
Your eyes well up with tears. Itβs the first time you cried since that night two months ago. βI leave next week. I donβt know when Iβll be back.β
He races towards you, stopping about 2 feet from you. βBug, what the hell?β
You hate the expression he has on his face. Itβs already morphing into resentment. β
βMy mom thinks itβll be good for me to get a change of scenery. My aunt knows a good therapist in South Bend that I can go see-β
He cuts you off, his nostrils flaring, βYouβre leaving?! Four hours away?β
A single tear drops across your cheek, and you instantly wipe it away. You swallow, knowing that if you donβt do this, the resentment would go both ways. You did not want to hate Steve, but you knew you could push through him hating you.
He was never quick at coming around to things, but once it happened, he was usually grateful no one listened to his plan.
βI need to. I need this, Steve.β
His demeanor changes when he hears your shaky voice. He stucks in a sharp breath, letting his eyes travel towards the woods that line the lake.
βIt seems you already made up your mind,β He whispers, the sounds of locus practically covering up his words, βAnd I donβt think Iβd be wise to try to change it.β
He probably loves teasing you through ur panties. spends ours edging you through them before actually taking them off. His head between ur thighs lapping at your heat just ruining ur cute panties π or even using his tip to push into you as far as the fabric will let him.
by the time heβs ready to take them off and give you what you want theyβre basically see through. worn thin from the mixture of his saliva and ur juices.
When you guys are all finished you cant even find them because he put them in his pocket for when he misses you π
heβs def got like a small box tucked up under his bed full of your βlostβ panties. when you find it one day he just shrugs his shoulders and acts like itβs no big dealβ¦ he buys you new ones anyway!
sometimes your character doesn't need a good orgasm they need a bad one. they need to jerk off when they don't really want to and still manage one and then feel empty and miserable and cry about it. thanks
online numbers can really fuck you up when it comes to your creative work because you're sharing something you worked on with all your heart but it's very important to remember there's actual people behind those numbers. even if it's 1. that's one whole actual person. that's a human being who said "haha nice". that's a connection with a REAL person with a REAL life and REAL thoughts and feelings and experiences. like. damn. that should mean something
Not sure why it's a new trend among fic readers to assume if the fic has not been posted within the week it's inappropriate to comment on it, like the fic has to be hot out of the oven to give feedback for.
I got a comment on a fic that is less than a year old and it was mostly an apology for being a comment on an "old fic" and how late they were in commenting.
Just comment on the fic. Doesn't matter how old it is.
this is because they write with their mind penis and have terrible childhoods and horrible luck, which seems to be the key factor in writing shakespeare level smut
