Summary: You love it when your boyfriend Eddie fucks you hard and stupid- and you loved nothing more than letting him know just how grateful he makes you for it.
Credit: Thank you to @spacejjunk for the title idea ❤️ Dividers by @cafekitsune
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“That’s it, baby!”
The headboard smacks against the wall again, in rhythm with his deep, punishing thrusts as he continues pounding you- face down, ass up into the mattress.
“Fuuuuck yeah…you love it when I fuck you like this, don’t you?”
“Eddie p-please!” You whimper, fisting the bed sheets beneath you as his hips slap against your ass- forcing his hard cock to brush against your cervix with every thrust.
“Please, what? Use your words, sweetheart.” He tsks, a devilish grin spreading across his face as he looks down where both of your bodies meet- watching himself slide in and out of your drenched cunt.
“H-harder.” You sob, tears wetting the sheets as your body shook with pleasure. “Please fuck me harder!”
“Oh, you want it harder?” Eddie asks, his grip on your hips tightening hard enough to turn his knuckles white. “You sure you can handle that?”
You gasp, nodding your head helplessly as the tears keep flowing- choking on desperate sobs and moans.
“I c-can t-take it!” You cry out “Please!”
“Alright.” Eddie smirks, looking down at his slutty little plaything as you writhed and cried out beneath him. “Whatever you want, gorgeous.”
Before you have time to react, Eddie leans his body forward- putting all his body weight on you until you’re on your stomach, lying prone on the mattress as he pounds into you at a brutal, punishing pace.
“Oh my fucking god!” You cry out, another onset of hot, thick tears take over you as you sob out in pleasure.
“That feel good?” Eddie growls, snapping his hips against you as he drives his hard cock into you as deep as you could take it. “Is that what you’re fucking crying about, sweetheart? Yeah? Fucking…answer…me.”
“Yes!” You squeal “Yes, Eddie! Oh fuck yes! Thank you!”
One of his hands snake up to your neck, wrapping around it as he pulls your head back towards him- lightly squeezing your throat.
“What was that, angel?” Eddie patronizes, his voice hot against your ear “I didn’t quite hear you.”
“Thank you, Eddie. Fuck- thank you!”
“Oh baby, you’re welcome.” Eddie coos “Anything for my little cocksleeve. My cock hungry whore with such good fucking manners. Right, baby? You keep using those manners for me and I’ll keep giving you this fucking dick just how you fucking like it.”
“Thank you!” You gasp, your voice hoarse and desperate as he thrusts into you hard enough to jolt you forward. “Oh god! Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Fuck, baby. Such good manners.” Eddie praises “You know what you get with manners like those? Hm?”
“Oh fuck, please!”
“That’s it. Atta girl!” Eddie chuckles darkly “With manners like those, you can have anything you fucking want.”
summary: you finally left your house to have a girls day. shopping, food, friendship- the works. robin and nancy always had your back but eddie- he was your best friend. hes the one who knew you inside and out. but is that all you wanted him to be? maybe a fashion show will change things.
warnings/tags: best friends to lovers, shy reader, typical eddie bullshit, fluff, comfort, alternating POV, smut (oral f receiving, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, eddie trying not to nut in 30 seconds, squirting)
masterlist // join the taglist
You were three stores deep into the kind of afternoon that only happened when Robin got bored and Nancy decided retail therapy was a legitimate coping mechanism.
Your phone buzzed in the back pocket of your jeans just as Nancy was holding up a soft gray sweater against you, head tilted in that critical way of hers. It's not your style but you like to appease her.
Eddie:
bored.
come over.
i have leftover chinese and a new playlist that will either heal your soul or destroy it. your pick.
You smiled at the screen before you could stop yourself. Robin noticed immediately.
“That’s the Eddie face,” she said, already leaning in. “What’s he want?”
“He wants me to come over.”
Nancy raised an eyebrow. “And you’re going to say no because…?”
You typed back while Robin peered over your shoulder.
You:
can’t. already at the mall with robin and nancy. not being a hermit for once.
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
Eddie:
the mall.
you’re at the mall???
and no one thought to invite me?
i’m hurt. actually offended.
also tbh you’re gonna get overwhelmed and start doing that weird thing you always do
i’m coming.
You stared at the message.
You:
eddie you don’t have to come
Eddie:
already in the van.
tell robin to stop making that face. i can feel it through the phone.
Robin was, in fact, making that face.
Twenty-seven minutes later you were standing near the big fountain on the lower level, arms full of bags. You'd dragged the two of them into Hot Topic and Spencers. Nancy had somehow convinced you that you needed new jeans— so you bought some black ones. Robin had dragged you into a candle store “just to smell things.” And then, because the universe had a sense of humor, the three of you had ended up in Victoria’s Secret.
You were still a little pink about that one.
The pink-and-black bag swung from your wrist every time you shifted your grip. It felt louder than the rest of them somehow. Like it was announcing itself.
Robin was mid-rant about this hot girl who keeps coming into her job when a familiar voice cut through the mall noise.
“Well, well, well. Look at this delinquent little shopping squad.”
You turned.
Eddie Munson was walking toward you like he owned the entire second floor, black jeans with the knees blown out, a faded Dio shirt under an open sleeveless flannel, rings catching the harsh mall lights. His hair was a little messier than usual, like he’d driven with the windows down the whole way. He had that grin on—the one that said he’d already decided this was going to be fun for him and mildly embarrassing for you.
Robin lit up. “Munson! You actually showed.”
“Had to make sure no one was bullying my favorite introvert into buying things she’ll never wear.” His eyes flicked to you, soft for half a second before the performance kicked back in. “Speaking of which… Jesus Christ, look at you.”
He stopped a couple feet away, taking in the armful of bags. His gaze snagged on the Victoria’s Secret one and stayed there just long enough for heat to crawl up the back of your neck.
“Wow,” he said, voice dropping into something almost reverent. “You actually went shopping. I’m proud. Also mildly concerned.”
Nancy smirked. “She needed jeans. And then Robin got involved. And she dragged us into her own stores. And then the lingerie section happened.”
Eddie made a wounded little sound, hand over his heart. “You took her into the den of sin without me?”
You shifted the bags, trying to hide the pink one behind the others. “It’s not that dramatic.”
“It’s a little dramatic,” he said, stepping closer. Close enough that you could smell the faint mix of cigarettes and that cheap cologne he always wore even though he claimed he didn’t. “You okay? You’ve got that look.”
You opened your mouth to say you were fine.
He just raised an eyebrow.
“…I’m a little overstimulated,” you admitted, quieter.
Eddie’s whole posture softened. He reached out without asking and carefully took two of the heavier bags from your arms, including the Victoria’s Secret one. He didn’t comment on it this time. Just hooked the handles over his wrist like it was nothing.
“C’mon,” he said. “We’re doing one more lap so Nancy can finish buying a new pantsuit or whatever, then I’m extracting you. Chinese food’s getting cold and my couch misses your weight on it.”
Robin grinned. “He’s so soft for you it’s disgusting.”
Eddie didn’t deny it. He just looked at you over the top of the bags, eyes warm and knowing in that way that always made the rest of the mall feel a little farther away.
“Yeah, well,” he said, voice low enough that only you caught the full weight of it. “Somebody’s gotta make sure she doesn’t disappear into the void.”
He bumped his shoulder lightly against yours.
“Lead the way, shopping gremlin. I’m your official bag mule for the next twenty minutes. Use me wisely.”
By the time you’d made it halfway through the next stretch of stores, the worst of the overstimulation had started to loosen its grip.
It was Eddie. It was always Eddie.
He walked half a step behind you, still carrying the bulk of the bags like it was the most natural thing in the world, occasionally bumping his shoulder into yours just hard enough to make you stumble and then catch yourself with a laugh. Nancy and Robin had drifted a few feet ahead, deep in a debate about whether a particular pair of boots were too much for the upcoming summer and who wears boots in summer anyway? That left the two of you in your own little orbit, the mall noise fading into background static.
“You’re quieter when you're with them,” Eddie said, voice low enough that it stayed between you. “Not in a bad way. Just… smaller. Like you’re trying to take up less space.”
You glanced at him. “And with you I’m suddenly loud?”
“With me you’re you.” He said it simply, like it was the most obvious fact in the world. “The version that likes to talk shit and snorts when she laughs. I like that version. Miss her when she’s gone.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no real heat in it. “You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m correct.” He shifted the bags so he could free one hand and reach over, gently tugging the sleeve of your hoodie. “Look at you. Five minutes ago you were about to jump into the void. Now you’re about to roast me. Progress.”
“I wasn’t going to roast you.”
“Liar.” His grin was slow and crooked. “You were definitely going to say something about the way I’m carrying these bags like a peasant. Go on. I can take it.”
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too wide. “You look like a Victorian servant who got lost on the way to a metal show.”
Eddie gasped, hand flying to his chest hard enough that the Victoria’s Secret bag swung wildly. “How dare you. I’ll have you know this is high fashion. Wore my favorite rings just for you.”
“Your rings make you look like you stuck your hand in an antique store display and just bought whatever stuck.”
“Rude.” He leaned in closer, voice dropping into that teasing register he only ever used with you. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re mean. Otherwise I’d leave you here with all these bags and go find people who appreciate my good looks.”
You bumped him with your hip. “You wouldn’t.”
“I might.”
“You wouldn’t.”
"Try me."
"There's some mall rats over by Hot Topic. Bet they'd love you."
Eddie looked at you for a second too long, something softer flickering behind the performance. The kind of look that made your stomach do a slow, traitorous flip. He always looked at you like that when he thought you weren’t paying attention—like he was trying to memorize the exact shape of your smile, or the way your eyes crinkled when you were actually relaxed. Like you were the only thing in the entire building worth staring at.
You felt it. You always felt it. And you looked back at him the same way, even if neither of you ever said it out loud.
Robin’s voice cut through from up ahead. “Are you two flirting or fighting? Because from back here it sounds like both and I hope she wins.”
Eddie didn’t break eye contact with you as he called back, “We’re engaged in battle, Buckley. Mind your business.”
“Sure,” Robin said, entirely unconvinced. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Munson.”
He finally looked away, but the corner of his mouth stayed curved. He shifted the bags again and, without asking, reached over to take the last one from your hand so you were completely free.
“There,” he said, quieter. “Now you can actually exist without any extra weight in your hands. You’re welcome.”
You flexed your fingers, still warm from where the plastic handles had dug in. “You’re being weirdly nice today.”
“I’m always nice to you.” He said it like a fact, not a defense. Then, softer, almost under his breath: “Especially when you look like you’re about two seconds from disappearing into your own head again.”
You didn’t answer right away. Just walked beside him, the space between your arms brushing every few steps. Nancy and Robin had stopped in front of another window display, giving the two of you another pocket of privacy.
Eddie glanced sideways at you, rings catching the light as he adjusted his grip on the bags.
“For the record,” he said, voice low and almost careful, “I like when you let yourself be loud with me. Even when you're being a butt head. Cause I know you're only like that with me. Makes me feel special."
You looked at him. Really looked.
And for a second the rest of the mall—Robin’s laughter, the distant music, the fluorescent lights—dropped away.
“Yeah,” you said, just as quiet. “I like it too.”
Eddie’s smile this time was smaller. Softer. The kind he only ever gave you when the banter peeled back and something truer sat underneath.
He didn’t say anything else.
The drive back was easy in the way things always were with him.
Eddie had the windows cracked just enough to let the warm spring air in, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift like he was half-tempted to reach over and take yours. He didn’t. He just talked the whole way—about how Robin’s taste in shoes was a crime against humanity, about how Nancy had looked at a seventy-dollar candle like she could actually afford it. You laughed more than you had all day.
His apartment was on the second floor of a tired brick building two towns over from Hawkins. The kind of place with a sticky front door and a hallway that always smelled faintly of someone else’s cooking. He’d worked doubles and sold half his vinyl collection to make the deposit after graduation. It showed in the way he talked about it sometimes—quiet pride mixed with the usual self-deprecation.
“Home sweet dump,” he announced as he kicked the door open with his boot, still carrying most of your bags. “Couch has been waiting for you milady.”
It was exactly as lived-in as always. Band posters peeling at the corners. A thrifted couch that had seen better decades. A kitchen table covered in sheet music and empty coffee mugs. The faint smell of the dragons blood incense he always used because you once said you liked it.
He dropped the bags by the couch with a dramatic groan and flopped down, immediately stretching his legs out and patting the cushion beside him.
“Sit. Argue with me. I’ve been waiting all day to be wrong about something.”
You sat. The couch dipped under your combined weight the way it always did.
It started with Iron Man versus Batman, because of course it did.
“I’m just saying,” you said, turning to face him fully, “Tony Stark would fold Bruce Wayne like a lawn chair. The man has an entire AI, flight, repulsors—”
Eddie held up a finger, rings glinting. “Batman has prep time. Prep. Time. That’s his whole thing. He would study every single one of Stark’s weaknesses, build a suit specifically designed to counter the arc reactor, and then—”
“And then Iron Man would still vaporize him from the air before Batman even finished monologuing.”
“You’re underestimating the power of pure spite and a utility belt.”
“You’re underestimating the power of literally being able to fly and shoot lasers.”
Eddie threw his head back against the couch with a wounded sound. “I can’t believe I’m friends with someone this wrong.”
You poked his knee with your socked foot. “You’re just mad because you know I’m right.”
“I’m mad because you’re smug about it.” But he was smiling, soft around the edges, the argument already losing steam in favor of watching the way your face lit up when you got competitive. He loved that version of you. The one that forgot to be quiet.
After another minute of half-hearted defense of Batman’s honor, Eddie finally held up both hands in surrender.
“Fine. Iron Man wins. Happy? You destroyed my entire worldview. I hope you’re proud.”
You grinned. “Extremely.”
He huffed a laugh, then his eyes drifted toward the pile of bags near the arm of the couch.
“Alright,” he said, voice shifting into something lighter, curious. “Show and tell. What’d you actually buy, shopping gremlin? Besides the jeans Nancy forced on you and whatever candles Robin convinced you to buy.”
You felt the heat climb up your neck almost immediately.
Eddie noticed. Of course he did. His expression gentled, the teasing dialing back just enough.
“Hey. No pressure. You don’t have to—”
“Can I…” You hesitated, fingers twisting in the hem of your hoodie. The shyness was back, but different this time. Softer. Safe, because it was him. “Can I give you a fashion show?”
Eddie went still for half a second.
Then the slowest, softest smile spread across his face. The kind that made his eyes crinkle and his voice drop into something almost reverent.
“Yeah?” he said, quiet. “You wanna model for me?”
You nodded, small.
He sat up a little straighter, like he was preparing for something important. “Hell yeah you can. Go on. I’ll be the most supportive, least judgmental audience you’ve ever had.”
He gestured toward the short hallway that led to his bedroom. “Use my room. Mirror’s clean for once. Take your time.”
You stood, gathering the bags with slightly shaky hands. Eddie watched you the whole way, that same look from the mall settled deep in his eyes—like he was trying not to hope too hard, and failing.
Just before you disappeared around the corner, he called after you, voice warm and a little rough around the edges.
“And for the record… whatever you got in that pink bag? I’m already a fan.”
You didn’t answer.
But the door to his bedroom clicked shut behind you with a soft, anticipatory sound, and he leaned back against the couch, his heart doing something stupid and hopeful in his chest while he waited.
Eddie barely had time to scrub a hand over his face and pretend he wasn’t already halfway gone before the bedroom door creaked open.
You stepped out in the black jeans first—ones that actually fit like they were made for you instead of the baggy shit you usually hid in—and a soft, flowy crop top that kept flashing a strip of skin every time you moved. You did a little half-turn, arms sort of awkwardly out like you weren’t sure what to do with them yet.
“Okay,” you said, voice still quiet. “First one. Jeans and… this. It’s kind of floaty. I don’t know.”
Eddie swallowed. His brain helpfully supplied approximately forty different compliments and zero of them felt safe enough to say out loud.
“Floaty’s good,” he managed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees so he had something to do with his hands. “Floaty’s very good. You look… hippie. Very Stevie Nicks. Ten out of ten. No notes. Except maybe do the turn again so I can fully appreciate the jeans.”
You huffed a tiny laugh and spun slower this time. The confidence was still shy around the edges, but it was there. He could see it.
God, he wanted to bottle that sound.
You disappeared again. He let his head drop back against the couch and stared at the ceiling like it might offer him strength. It did not. All it offered was a water stain shaped vaguely like a middle finger.
The door opened a second time.
Black mini skirt. Tight black velvet crop top, cut to look like a bat. The kind of top that looked like it had been designed specifically to ruin his entire life.
Eddie forgot how to breathe for a full three seconds.
“Shopping for summer, you know?” you said, a little stronger this time, doing a small sway that made the skirt flip against your thighs. “Figured I should own at least one thing that isn’t a hoodie.”
“Summer,” he repeated, voice coming out rougher than he meant it to. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Summer. Very… seasonal. The bat is a nice touch. Extremely on-brand for hanging out with me. I’m choosing to take that as a personal compliment.”
You smiled—actually smiled—and did a full turn this time. The skirt flared just enough. The velvet caught the low light of his shitty lamp. Something in his chest went tight and warm and stupid.
Look at you. Look at you getting braver every single time you walk out here. Like you’re remembering you’re allowed to take up space. Like maybe you trust me enough to let me see it.
“You’re staring,” you said, but there was no real accusation in it. Just a little spark of something playful.
“I’m observing,” Eddie corrected immediately. “Very different. Scientific, even. For example… observation one— the skirt makes your legs look criminal. Observation two— I’m going to have dreams about that velvet bat. Observation three— you’re getting less shy about the spins and I am thriving.”
You laughed, bright and real, and the sound did something catastrophic to his heart rate.
Third time.
You kept the mini skirt. Swapped the velvet for a ridiculous shirt from Spencer’s—a bunch of dachshunds with the phrase "Everyone loves wieners" and it's so perfectly you that Eddie felt his face do that soft, helpless thing he could never quite hide around you. You struck a little pose in the doorway this time, one hand on your hip, the other up in the air like you had no idea what to do with it. You probably didn't.
“Behold,” you declared, voice full of mock grandeur. “The intellectual peak of my shopping trip.”
Eddie clapped. Actually clapped, slow and dramatic.
“Masterpiece,” he said solemnly. “I feel smarter just looking at it. The skirt and the wiener dog shirt combination is inspired. You’re a visionary. I’m obsessed. I hope you wear this exact combination to your next outing.”
You were grinning now. Fully. The shy little glances had turned into actual eye contact, like each outfit had peeled another layer of hesitation off you and left something brighter underneath. He watched it happen in real time and felt like the luckiest bastard alive for getting front-row seats.
You walked closer this time, stopping a few feet in front of the couch, doing a slow turn without him even asking. The skirt flared up, giving him the slightest glimpse of the supple curve of your ass underneath. Eddie’s hands flexed against his knees.
You’re going to kill me. You’re going to stand there getting more confident by the second and I’m going to sit here and fall harder every time you laugh at your own joke. And you’re never going to know, because I’m a coward who would rather keep you forever as my best friend than risk saying the quiet part out loud.
You stopped spinning and looked at him, cheeks a little pink but eyes bright.
“Okay,” you said, softer again, but steady. “Are you ready for the finale?”
Eddie felt his entire soul short-circuit.
He sat up straighter, tried to play it cool, failed miserably, and ended up just staring at you with his heart somewhere in the vicinity of his throat.
“Yeah,” he said, voice low and a little wrecked. “I’m ready. Show me.”
The bedroom door opened again and Eddie’s brain helpfully decided it was obsolete.
You stepped out wrapped in the fluffiest pink bathrobe he’d ever seen in his life. It looked like someone had murdered a cloud and dyed it the color of cotton candy. Your hands were buried in the pockets, shoulders a little hunched, that familiar shy tilt to your head that always made him want to gather you up and hide you from the entire world.
“Okay,” you said, voice small. “Finale. Don’t laugh.”
“I would never,” Eddie answered immediately, and he meant it. His voice came out softer than he intended. “C’mon. Show me.”
You hesitated for half a second longer, then slowly tugged the belt loose.
The robe slipped open.
Eddie’s entire nervous system short-circuited so hard he was pretty sure he blacked out for a full second.
Hot pink. Barely-there hot pink lingerie that looked like it had been designed specifically to end him. A tiny bralette that clung to the soft curve of your chest, delicate straps, and matching bottoms that sat high on your hips and left almost nothing to the imagination. The kind of set that made every inch of bare skin look deliberate. Completely fucking lethal.
You didn’t even seem to notice the way his soul left his body. You just stood there in the middle of his living room like this was normal. Like best friends did this shit all the time. Like you weren’t currently rewriting every single one of his brain cells.
Jesus Christ.
He grabbed the nearest throw pillow and shoved it into his lap so hard. His jeans were already getting tight in a way that was going to be extremely obvious if he didn’t hide it. He tried to look casual. He failed.
“Holy shit,” he managed, voice cracking just enough that he had to clear his throat. “Okay. Wow. That’s… yeah. That’s the finale alright.”
You gave a tiny, embarrassed little smile and did a slow twirl.
The bathrobe slipped further down your arms, hanging loose around your elbows like a soft pink frame. The movement made the tiny scraps of hot pink shift against your skin. And then the smell hit him—your perfume, the same floral kind you've worn since the day you met him, the one that always lingered on his hoodie for days whenever you borrowed it. It wrapped around him like a second heartbeat.
Eddie dug his fingers into the pillow hard enough that his nails pressed little crescent shapes into the fabric.
You’re actually going to kill me. You’re standing there in the middle of my shitty apartment in the tiniest fucking lingerie set I’ve ever seen and you think this is just friend stuff. You have no idea. You have no idea that I’m two seconds from dropping to my knees and begging. That I’ve wanted to put my mouth on every single inch of you for months. That the only reason I’m still sitting here like a functional human is because I refuse to ruin the best thing in my life by being a horny idiot.
You finished the turn and looked at him, cheeks pink, completely unaware that he was actively dying.
“Is it too much?” you asked, tugging self-consciously at one of the straps. “I almost didn’t get it. Robin said the color was cute though.”
Eddie let out a sound that was half laugh, half wounded animal.
“Too much?” he repeated, staring at you like you’d just asked if the sun was a little bright today. “Baby— I mean. No. It’s not too much. It’s… fuck. You look unreal. Like someone drew you. The pink is doing something illegal to my brain chemistry. I’m serious. I might need medical attention.”
You laughed, soft and shy, and the sound went straight through him.
He adjusted the pillow again, very carefully, and tried to remember how to breathe like a person who wasn’t currently imagining peeling those tiny pink scraps off you with his teeth.
“C’mere,” he said, voice lower now, rougher. He patted the cushion beside him even though he was pretty sure sitting next to you right now was going to finish him off. “Let me look at you properly. Without you doing the nervous shuffle from six feet away.”
You stepped closer.
The perfume got stronger.
Eddie was so completely, utterly fucked.
The shyness came flooding back like a switch had flipped the moment you stood in front of him.
Eddie watched it happen in real time—the way your shoulders curled inward just a little, the way your fingers twisted in the loose sleeves of the bathrobe still hanging off your arms, the way you suddenly couldn’t quite meet his eyes even though you were standing close enough that he could see each mark on your body. Close enough that the heat of your skin felt like it was already touching him.
He swallowed hard and tried to keep his voice steady.
“Hey,” he said softly, tilting his head to catch your gaze. “None of that. You’re allowed to stand here looking like every fantasy I’ve ever had and still get a little shy. I can handle both.” He let his eyes flick down for half a second before forcing them back up. “You look… soft. And dangerous. And like I should probably be on my knees right now saying thank you, but I’m trying really hard to be a gentleman instead of a complete disaster.”
You let out a tiny, nervous huff of laughter. The sound went straight to his dick.
Eddie kept talking, walking that razor-thin line between honest and too much. “The pink is killing me, by the way. Like actually ending my life. And the way it sits on you—fuck—it’s not fair. You’re standing in my living room looking like that and I’m supposed to just… what? Act normal? Impossible. You’re making it impossible.”
You shifted your weight. The movement was small.
The left strap of the bralette slipped.
It slid down the curve of your shoulder in slow motion, delicate and pink and devastating, and Eddie’s brain broke in half so hard a low, wrecked moan tore out of his throat before he could stop it.
The sound hung in the air between you.
You both froze.
Eddie’s eyes went wide. The pillow was still crushed in his lap. His pulse was hammering so loud he was pretty sure you could hear it. Heat flooded his face so fast it felt like a fever.
You stared at him, lips parted, the slipped strap still resting halfway down your arm.
“…Did you really just do that?” you asked, voice quiet and a little disbelieving. A tiny, dangerous spark of something flirty flickered underneath the shock.
Eddie let out a strangled laugh that was half embarrassment, half pure desperation. “Yeah. Yeah, I really just did that. In my defense, the strap moved and— Completely involuntary. I’m a victim here.”
Your mouth twitched. “A victim.”
“Exactly.” He gestured helplessly at the strap still hanging off your shoulder. “Look at it. It’s torturing me. It’s doing it on purpose. You’re doing it on purpose.”
“I’m not doing anything,” you said, but your voice had gone softer, warmer. You didn’t fix the strap. You just stood there looking at him like you were suddenly seeing something new.
Eddie couldn’t take it anymore.
The careful distance he’d been clinging to for years—the jokes, the looks he thought you never noticed, the way he always stopped himself right at the edge—snapped clean in half.
He surged up off the couch, pillow tumbling to the floor, and closed the space between you. One hand came up to cradle the side of your face, rings cool against your cheek, the other settling at your waist like he’d been dying to put it there for years.
“Fuck it,” he whispered, and then he kissed you.
It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t soft. It was years of wanting poured into one desperate, open-mouthed press of lips. He kissed you like he’d been starving. Like the taste of you might actually save him. His fingers slid back into your hair, tilting your head just enough to deepen it, and a low, broken sound rumbled in his chest when you made a tiny noise against his mouth.
The slipped strap was still hanging off your shoulder.
Eddie didn’t fix it.
You broke the kiss with a soft, shaky inhale, lips still brushing his as you pulled back just far enough to see his face.
Eddie’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, mouth kiss-bitten and a little shiny. His hand was still cradling your cheek like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.
“How long?” you asked, voice quieter than you meant it to be. “How long have you been thinking about doing that?”
His thumb stroked once along your cheekbone. He didn’t look away.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Eddie let out a breath that was almost a laugh, low and rough. “Jesus. Okay. No lying.” He swallowed. “Months. Longer than months. Since before I even had this apartment. Since you started doing that thing where you’d steal my hoodies and really all my clothes. I’ve wanted to kiss you every single fucking time you walked into a room since the moment I met you.”
Your heart did something violent behind your ribs.
You didn’t think. You just lifted your hand and gave his chest a playful little smack, right over the faded print of his shirt.
Eddie jerked back half an inch, eyes wide with pure betrayal. “What— why? What was that for?”
“Because I’ve liked you too, you absolute idiot,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess them. Heat flooded your face but you didn’t look away. “I’ve been sitting here in this dumb pink robe thinking this was just normal best-friend fashion-show territory while you’ve been dying over there with a pillow on your lap. We’ve both been ridiculous.”
For a second Eddie just stared at you.
Then a helpless, disbelieving grin broke across his face, soft and a little wrecked.
“We’re both idiots,” he said, voice thick with something that sounded a lot like relief. “Complete, hopeless idiots.”
And then he was kissing you again.
This time there was no hesitation. One of his hands slid down to your waist, the other still tangled in your hair, and he pulled you with him as he dropped back onto the couch. You went willingly, knees bracketing his hips, the fluffy robe slipping further down your arms as he settled you fully into his lap. The tiny scraps of hot pink lace were the only things between you now, and Eddie made a low, punched-out sound against your mouth the second your weight settled over him.
His hands found your bare thighs, rings cool against overheated skin, and he kissed you like he’d never get the chance again—deep and open and a little desperate, like he still couldn’t quite believe you were real and in his lap and kissing him back just as hard.
You sank down harder into his lap and the kiss turned messy, open, wet. Eddie’s hands slid higher up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft skin just beneath the edge of the hot-pink lace. Every time you shifted, the thin material of the bottoms dragged against him, and the second it slipped to the side you both felt it—heat against denim, almost nothing left between you.
Eddie broke the kiss with a ragged sound, forehead dropping against yours.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Look at you. So pretty. Always so god damn pretty.” His voice was low, reverent, already half-ruined. “I’ve wanted to worship you for so long it makes me feel stupid. Wanted to get my mouth on every soft inch of you and take my time. Make you feel how gone I am. Hope you're okay with that or I'm about to look like the biggest jackass in the world.”
You rolled your hips once, slow, and watched his eyes flutter.
The unspoken rule sat between you both like a ghost. You never talked about anyone else. Neither did he. No stories, no casual mentions, nothing. You’d always told yourself it was just boundaries. Now, with his hands gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear, you understood. It had never been about boundaries. It had been about not having to picture each other with anyone else. About protecting something neither of you had been brave enough to name.
Eddie seemed to realize it at the same time. His expression went soft and a little pained.
“We never talked about it,” he murmured, thumb stroking along the waistband of the lace. “Not once. I used to think it was because you didn’t… you know. Because you never brought it up. I thought maybe you hadn’t… done much. And I didn’t want to push.” His laugh was quiet, self-deprecating. “Turns out we were both just trying not to break our own hearts.”
"Think you're right about that."
"I'm always right sweetheart."
You ground down again, deliberately this time— partially to shut him up and also because it felt so damn good. The lace shifted fully out of the way. The friction dragged a broken noise out of both of you. Eddie’s head tipped back against the couch, throat working.
“Jesus Christ—”
His hands slid up your back, fingers finding the clasp of the bralette with surprising care. He unhooked it slowly, like he was unwrapping something sacred, and the hot-pink scrap loosened. You shrugged it off the rest of the way. The second it hit the floor Eddie went completely still.
He stared.
No jokes. No dramatic commentary. Just pure, speechless hunger as his eyes dragged over you—bare chest, flushed skin, the way the remaining lace sat low on your hips and did nothing to hide how wet you already were.
“Holy shit,” he finally whispered, voice cracking. “You’re… fuck. You’re perfect. Look at these.” One hand came up to cup the soft weight of your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple like he was testing whether you were real. “Soft and pretty and already so fucking responsive for me. I’ve been dying to see you like this. Dying to get my hands and mouth all over you and make you fall apart.”
He leaned in and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the center of your chest, then lower, dragging his lips over the curve of one breast while his other hand squeezed gently at your hip, encouraging you to keep moving against him.
“Keep grinding on me like that,” he murmured against your skin, filthy and soft at the same time. “Use me. Wanna feel how wet you are through these tiny little things. Wanna make a mess of both of us before I even get my mouth between your legs.”
"What if I want you now Munson? What then?"
Your voice was wrecked. And the way he looked up at you—like you were something holy and filthy all at once—made it very clear that Eddie Munson planned to take his time worshipping every single inch of you.
Eddie moved like a man possessed.
He broke away from your chest just long enough to yank his shirt over his head and throw it somewhere behind the couch. His jeans were next—belt undone with clumsy, impatient fingers, zipper dragged down, fabric shoved past his hips until he could kick them off. He left the black boxers on— the hard line of his cock already tenting the front obscenely.
You reached between you without thinking, palm sliding down the plane of his stomach until your fingers wrapped around him. The second you pulled him free of the last bit of fabric, your breath caught.
He was thick. Heavy in your hand. Bigger than you’d let yourself imagine in all those late-night thoughts you never admitted to.
Eddie watched your face and let out a low, breathless laugh that was pure nerves and ego all at once.
“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “I get that look a lot. Don’t worry, sweetheart—I’ll go slow. I’m not trying to ruin my favorite person on the first night I finally get to touch her.”
You stroked him once, just to feel the weight of him, and his hips jerked up into your fist with a punched-out little sound.
But he didn’t let you keep control for long.
Eddie gently caught your wrist and guided your hand away, eyes dark and focused. “My turn first. Been dying to get my mouth on you. Need to get you nice and open for me before I even think about putting that in you.”
He moved with surprising care for how wrecked he looked—hands on your waist, guiding you down until your back hit the couch cushions. One of your legs was carefully lifted and draped over the back of the couch; the other he guided down so your foot rested on the floor. The position left you completely spread for him, the tiny scrap of hot-pink lace still clinging to the side of your cunt.
Eddie knelt between your thighs on the floor and just stared for a long second, hands resting on the insides of your knees like he needed the anchor.
“Holy fuck,” he whispered, almost to himself. “You’re really here. In my apartment. In that tiny pink shit. Legs open for me like this. I can’t— Jesus Christ, I can’t believe this is happening.”
Then he leaned in.
The first drag of his tongue over your clit was slow and filthy, broad and wet. He moaned against you like the taste alone was enough to ruin him. One hand stayed splayed on your lower stomach to keep you still while the other stroked up the inside of your thigh, fingers teasing along the soaked edge of the lace.
“So wet already,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick. “All for me. Gonna take my time opening you up, okay? Want you dripping before I even try to fit.”
He licked another slow stripe through your folds, then sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked gently while one long finger pressed inside. The stretch was easy—you were already so ready—but he still worked it carefully, curling and stroking until your hips twitched. A second finger joined the first sooner than you expected, scissoring gently, stretching you while his tongue kept up that steady, filthy rhythm on your clit.
“That’s it,” he breathed, glancing up the length of your body. “Look at you taking two already. So fucking pretty like this. Can you give me one more? Want you nice and ready for me.”
The third finger pressed in slow, the burn sweet and deep. Eddie groaned like he was the one being stretched, forehead dropping against your hip for a second as he felt you clench around him.
“Fuck— there you go. Three. God, you’re perfect. So tight and hot around my fingers. Keep breathing for me, baby. Gonna keep working you open just like this 'til you’re shaking.”
He curled all three fingers and rubbed firmly against that spot inside you while his tongue flicked faster over your clit, wet sounds filling the quiet apartment. His free hand gripped your thigh hard enough to bruise, holding you spread wide open while he worshipped you with his mouth and hand like he’d been starving for it.
You were already shaking, thighs trembling on either side of his head, when the need finally spilled out of you in broken little pieces.
“Eddie— please— I need— fuck, I need you, I can’t— please just—”
He lifted his head immediately, mouth shiny, three fingers still buried deep inside you. His eyes were almost black.
“Yeah?” His voice was wrecked. “You need me right now, baby? Need my cock instead of my fingers?”
You nodded frantically, hips twitching down against his hand. “Please. Now. I need you inside me—”
Eddie didn’t need to be told twice.
He pulled his fingers free with a wet sound that made both of you groan, then surged up over you. One hand shoved his boxers the rest of the way down while the other stayed braced on the inside of your thigh, keeping you spread exactly the way he wanted.
He knew you had an IUD—he’d driven you to the appointment months ago, sat in the waiting room with his knee bouncing, bought you a milkshake afterward like it was the most normal thing in the world. So no condom. Nothing between you.
He wrapped a hand around himself and dragged the thick head of his cock through your soaked folds once, twice, coating himself in how wet you’d gotten for him. Then he lined up, the blunt pressure of him settling right against your entrance while your legs stayed open—one hooked over the back of the couch, the other dangling toward the floor.
“Breathe for me,” he whispered, voice low and shaking with restraint. “Gonna go slow. You’re so fucking tight and I’m not exactly small. Tell me if it’s too much.”
He pushed in.
The stretch was immediate, deep, almost overwhelming. Eddie’s mouth fell open on a broken sound as the head of him sank inside you, and he kept going—inch by thick inch—while a steady stream of praise spilled out of him like he couldn’t stop it.
“Holy shit— look at that. Look at you taking me. So fucking pretty stretched around my cock already. That’s it, baby, just like that. You’re doing so good. S' good for me.”
His hands gripped your thighs harder, rings pressing into soft skin as he sank deeper. Another inch. Another. His stomach was trembling with the effort of holding back.
“Fuck, you’re s' warm inside. Sucking me in so perfect. Knew you’d feel like this. Dreamed about it. God, you’re taking every inch like you were made for me— almost there, almost— there. That’s all of me. Feel that? Feel how deep I am?”
He bottomed out with a punched-out groan, hips flush against yours, and stayed completely still so you could adjust. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, breath hot and ragged against your neck.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, voice cracking with pure awe. “You’re perfect. So tight and wet and mine. Just stay right here and let me feel you for a second. Let me feel how you grip me when you’re full.”
He kissed the side of your throat, soft and reverent even while his cock throbbed deep inside you, and kept murmuring filthy, worshipful praise against your skin like he never planned to stop.
Your cunt clenched around him—tight, wet, perfect—and Eddie’s brain short-circuited all over again.
“Move,” you whispered, voice wrecked and needy. “Please, Eddie, move.”
He lifted his head, eyes searching your face even as his hips twitched with the desperate urge to thrust. “How do you want it?” he asked, voice low and rough. One hand stroked up your side, grounding both of you. “Tell me. I’ll give you whatever you need.”
“Soft,” you breathed. “Start soft. Then… rough when I’m close. When I’m about to come.”
Eddie nodded like you’d just handed him sacred instructions.
“Soft first. Got it. I can do soft.”
He pulled out slow—dragged every thick inch of himself almost all the way free until just the head stayed tucked inside you—then pushed back in just as carefully. The wet heat of you swallowed him again and a broken sound punched out of his chest. He did it again. And again. Deep, rolling strokes that kept him buried to the hilt for a long second each time, letting you feel every ridge and pulse of him.
“That’s it,” he murmured against your mouth, kissing you between words. “I could die happy here. So fucking soft and warm inside. Look at you. Perfect. You’re fuckin' perfect.”
He kissed you deeper, tongue sliding against yours in the same lazy rhythm as his hips. One hand stayed braced on the back of the couch near your knee, keeping that leg hooked high; the other cupped your breast, thumb stroking over your nipple in time with every slow thrust.
Internally, Eddie was losing his entire mind.
Holy shit. Holy shit, this is real. You’re under me on my shitty couch in that tiny pink lingerie, stretched around my cock, telling me exactly how you want it. I’ve jerked off to this exact fantasy so many times it’s embarrassing and now you’re actually here, actually clenching around me, actually letting me have this. Don’t you dare fuck this up, Munson. Go slow. Make it good. Make it so good she never wants anyone else. God, the way she feels— dripping down my balls already. I’m not gonna survive this. I’m going to come embarrassingly fast if I keep thinking about how long I’ve wanted to be right here.
He kept the pace steady and deep, every thrust deliberate, every kiss lingering.
“You feel unreal,” he whispered against your lips, voice shaking with restraint. “So tight every time I push back in. Think your body’s trying to keep me. Fuck— I love that. Love how wet you are for me. I'll give you anything you ever need baby.”
He rolled his hips again, grinding against you at the end of the stroke so the base of his cock rubbed your clit, and another filthy, worshipful groan spilled out of him.
Don’t rush. Don’t you dare rush. She’s trusting you. She’s asking for soft first. Give it to her. Worship her. Make her come so hard she forgets anyone else ever touched her. God, I still can’t believe she’s mine right now. Even if it’s just for tonight. Even if—
He kissed you harder to shut his own spiraling thoughts up, and kept moving—slow, deep, devoted—exactly the way you’d asked.
Eddie's hand under the thigh that was still draped over the back of the couch lifted you up and pushed it higher, folding you open even more. The new angle let him sink impossibly deeper on the next slow thrust, and he groaned into the side of your neck.
He leaned in fully, chest pressed to yours, and put his mouth on your throat.
Soft kisses first—open and wet along the column of your neck—then the careful scrape of teeth. He found a spot just under your jaw and sucked hard enough to leave a mark, then another lower, closer to your pulse, worrying the skin between his lips until he knew it would bloom purple later. Every time he bottomed out he did it again, marking you like he needed proof this was real.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmured against your skin, voice rough. “Gonna leave these all over you. Want everyone to know I had you like this. Want you to look in the mirror tomorrow and remember how deep I was.”
Your hand slipped between your bodies.
Eddie felt the moment your fingers found your clit—felt the way your cunt fluttered hard around him in response—and his hips stuttered.
“That’s it,” he breathed, lifting his head just enough to watch. “Take what you need angel. Let me feel it. Wanna feel every bit of you.”
She’s getting close. Fuck, she’s getting close and I’m still inside her and she’s touching herself and I can feel every single clench. Don’t come. Do not come yet, you absolute fucking idiot. She asked for soft until she’s about to finish. Give her that. Hold it together. Think about literally anything else— guitar tabs, the broken latch on the van, the way Robin would mock you forever if you finished in thirty seconds flat— anything except how perfect and hot and wet she is around you.
Eddie pressed his forehead to yours, breathing hard, still rocking into you in those same controlled, deep thrusts even as his thighs started to shake.
“You’re tightening up on me,” he whispered, almost in awe. “I can feel it. You’re getting close, aren’t you? Keep rubbing that pretty clit. Wanna feel you come on my cock. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby. Just let it build.”
He kissed you again, messy and open, and kept moving exactly the way you’d asked—holding that leg high, marking your neck, fighting every instinct that screamed at him to snap his hips and chase his own release—while your cunt kept clenching tighter and tighter around him.
“Harder,” you breathed against his mouth, fingers still working between your bodies. “Eddie— harder, please—”
The magic words.
Eddie pulled almost all the way out and then snapped his hips forward, the slow, worshipful pace shattering as he gave you exactly what you wanted. He kept the build gradual at first—each thrust a little faster, a little deeper—until he was driving into you with real force, the hard wet slap of skin on skin filling the apartment. The new rhythm forced him against your cervix on every stroke; he felt the firm resistance and the faint, unmistakable nudge of your IUD against the head of his cock and he did not give a single shit.
Not when you were taking him like this.
“Fuck— there it is,” he groaned, voice wrecked as he held your leg higher and leaned into every thrust. “Feel that? That’s as deep as I can get. Taking every fucking inch like you were built for it. God, you’re perfect— so perfect—”
Your cunt clenched down around him so hard it punched the air from his lungs.
Then you gushed.
Hot, sudden wetness flooded around his cock, squirting in pulsing waves that soaked his stomach, his thighs, the couch cushion beneath you. The sound was filthy and unmistakable. Eddie’s eyes went wide, a broken, awed noise tearing out of his throat as he watched and felt you come apart under him.
“Oh my god— you’re— fuck, you’re squirting on me—”
That was all it took.
The tight, rhythmic pulse of your cunt milking him while you kept spurting around his cock ripped his orgasm out of him with zero warning. Eddie buried himself to the hilt and came hard, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside you in thick, pulsing waves. He kept thrusting through it—short, messy strokes that forced his cum deeper while you were still gushing around him—mouth open against your neck, one hand locked under your thigh, the other braced on the couch like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.
“Shit— shit, baby, I- fuck— feel that? Feel me filling you up while you’re still making a mess of me? Fuck, you’re incredible— so wet and tight and perfect—”
He stayed inside you through the aftershocks, cock twitching as the last of your squirting eased into trembling little pulses. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, breath coming in ragged, disbelieving gasps, every muscle in his body still shaking from how hard he’d finished.
The couch was ruined.
He couldn’t bring himself to care.
Eddie stayed exactly where he was—chest to chest, cock softening in the wet heat he’d just filled. His breath was still coming a little uneven against the side of your neck. One hand stayed hooked under your thigh like he wasn’t ready to let you close your legs yet.
He lifted his head after a long moment, eyes dark and a little dazed, and looked down at you.
“…Did you know you could do that?”
His voice was rough, still wrecked around the edges, but there was pure curiosity underneath it. And a little bit of awe he wasn’t even trying to hide.
You blinked up at him, cheeks flushed, and gave a small nod. “Yeah.”
Eddie stared.
“Yeah?” He let out a short, disbelieving laugh that made his softening cock twitch inside you. “You’ve been walking around knowing you can do that and you just… never mentioned it? Not once? We’ve talked about every stupid thing under the sun and you never thought to bring up the fact that you can soak a couch?”
You shrugged as much as you could with him still on top of you. “I didn’t know it was gonna happen with you.”
Eddie opened his mouth. Closed it. Then dropped his forehead back to your shoulder with a dramatic groan.
“Oh my god. You’re serious. You actually didn’t know.” He sounded personally offended and deeply smug at the same time. “So what you’re telling me is that I did that. Me. Eddie Munson. Made you squirt. On my couch. And how often does that happen?”
"By myself? A lot. With other people? Not as much."
"So you're saying I'm a sex god?"
"I'm not not saying that."
He lifted his head again, grinning now—soft and a little filthy, hair a mess, lips still kiss-bitten.
“I’m never recovering from this. You’re never living this down. I’m going to be so insufferable about it. Just warning you now.”
He shifted his hips the tiniest bit, still half-hard and sliding through the mess of both of you, and made a low, content sound at the feeling.
“Also,” he added, voice dropping into something warmer, “for the record? That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life. You just— just… gushing all over me while I was coming? Jesus Christ. I thought I was going to black out. You ruined me. Completely.”
He kissed the corner of your mouth, lazy and fond, and didn’t pull out.
“We’re gonna need to burn this cushion,” he murmured against your lips, clearly not sorry at all. “And probably the whole couch. Worth it. So fucking worth it.”
Eddie cleaned you up with a care that made your chest ache.
He disappeared into the bathroom for a minute and came back with a warm washcloth, still bare and soft-eyed, and wiped between your legs with slow, gentle strokes like you were something precious. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee when he was done, then another to your hip, and helped you stand on slightly unsteady legs.
“C’mon,” he murmured, voice still rough. “Bed. Couch is a crime scene and I’m not making you sit in it.”
His bedroom was dim and lived-in—unmade sheets, a pile of band tees on the chair, the faint smell of his cologne and laundry detergent. He dug through a drawer and tossed you a soft black shirt that was definitely his and a pair of boxers that hung low on your hips. You pulled both on while he watched, something warm and possessive flickering across his face when the shirt settled over you and the boxers disappeared under the hem.
Then he tugged you down into the bed with him.
You ended up half on top of him, head on his chest, one of his arms wrapped solidly around your back while the other worked the remote. Some random late-night show played at low volume, the light from the screen flickering across the ceiling. His fingers traced idle patterns along your spine under the shirt. Every so often he pressed a lazy kiss to the top of your head like he couldn’t help it.
The quiet stretched long enough to feel safe.
You traced a fingertip over one of the tattoos on his chest and finally asked, voice soft, “What are we now?”
Eddie let out a short, incredulous laugh that rumbled under your ear.
“Are you serious?” He shifted just enough to look down at you, dark eyes soft and completely certain. “You’re asking me that while you’re in my clothes, in my bed, still smelling like me and sex? Baby. I’m not letting go of you now. Not after that. Not after years of wanting you and finally getting to have you.” His hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, thumb stroking behind your ear. “You’re my girl. That’s what we are. Official. Permanent. Whatever word makes it sink in. You’re mine.”
He kissed your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then your mouth—slow and sweet.
When he pulled back there was a familiar crooked grin tugging at his lips.
“Also,” he added, “I’m keeping those ruined little pink panties. They’re mine now. Evidence. Trophy. Whatever. I’ll buy you a new set. Hell, I’ll buy you ten new sets if it means I get to ruin them the same way. Fair trade.”
He settled back against the pillows, tugging you more firmly against his chest, and turned the volume on the TV up just a little.
“Now quit overthinking and watch the show with me,” he murmured into your hair, already sounding half-asleep and completely content. “My girl needs rest. I’ve got you.”
warnings: domestic, idiots in love, fluff, fluff, and more fluff,
Everything Steve does for you proves he’s already your boyfriend, it just takes the two of you a little longer to realize it
Steve Harrington wasn’t your boyfriend. That was what you constantly told everybody around you, but they never seemed convinced, because somehow, he always ended up acting like he was.
He insisted on driving you everywhere, even if your destination was only five minutes away. “You’re not walking.” He’d decided himself, already reaching for your bag. “Get the hell in.”
He opened every door for you before you even had the chance to open the handle. Pulled out your chair, walked closest to the road, carried anything heavier than a feather out of pure instinct.
When you’d mention wanting something in passing—a milkshake, your favorite candy, a new cassette, it would mysteriously appear a day or two later. “You remembered?” You’d exclaim, throwing your arms around his neck.
“‘Course I remembered.” Steve would shrug off casually, like he hadn’t spent the whole night thinking of your reaction. To him, it was as though taking care of you came as natural as breathing.
One afternoon, you complained about a bothersome headache that had plagued you the whole day. Steve gently brushed your hair back, pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, and kissed it…
The moment he realized what he had done, his eyes went wide, cheeks turning a bright red. “I—uh,” he cleared his throat. “You looked like you needed one.” He tried. You smiled all the way home.
A few weeks later, you were sprawled across Nancy Wheeler’s bedroom floor, flipping absentmindedly through one of her magazines.
You had gone through all the stages, painting nails, playing board games, listening to music, there was nothing left to do as you flipped onto your back. “This is boring.” You groaned.
Nancy laughed from where she sat atop her bed. “Then let’s gossip.” She shut her book and looked at you with a knowing smile, climbing down to your level.
“So,” she started, a full grin already forming on her lips.
“So?” You mocked, as if you were clueless to her tone.
“You and Steve.” Nancy threw a book at you, as you dodged it lazily.
You groaned louder, already not liking where this conversation was going. “What about me and Steve?”
Nancy didn’t answer right away, instead, she sent you a flat look. “You know,” she tilted her head. “He’s so boyfriend material.”
You frowned, eyes flickering around her face. “What?” You asked breathlessly.
“I mean it.” She laughed softly. “He’s so boyfriend.” She repeated.
Heat crept onto your cheeks, you scoffed, shaking your head. “No, he isn’t.” You denied weakly.
“C’mon, he practically worships the ground you walk on.” Nancy pointed out, being a witness herself to Steve’s puppy dog eyes at you.
You snorted, you and him were just close, worshipping was too far. “He does not.”
Nancy narrowed her eyes at you, before an idea popped into her head. She quickly sat up, a mischievous smile on her expression. “I bet if you called him right now…”
She glanced towards the landline phone sat on her desk. “…he’d answer before the second ring.”
Your lips parted, thinking it over for a minute. You still weren’t convinced. “No chance.”
She raised a brow. “Wanna bet?”
You rolled your eyes, but stood up anyway. Nancy watched you intently as you picked up the phone to your ear, dialing Steve’s number that you had memorized like your own name.
He knew you were sleeping over at Nancy’s tonight, not a day went by where he wasn’t calling to keep you up, he had been the one to drop you off after all.
The line rang once, before click. “Sweetheart?” His voice sounded through the other end.
You froze, replying a beat later once the initial shock wore off. “Hi,” you muttered.
“You alright?” He asked gently. “You sound funny.”
“Yup—I’m fine.” You said too quickly for his liking.
Silence settled for only a second before Steve spoke again. “Your tummy hurt again?”
Nancy’s eyes grew comically wide before she clamped a hand over her mouth.
You wanted the floor to swallow you whole, face screwing up in embarrassment. “No! I’m fine, Steve, really.”
“I can bring you some food?” He offered.
“I don’t need food. I ate, I promise.” You rushed out.
“No? I could be there in fifteen minutes?” Steve asked again.
Your heart skipped, trying to keep your voice steady. “Nope, don’t bother.”
There was another short pause, hearing his relaxed breathing. “…You just wanted to hear my voice?” Steve whispered.
Your face burned now, regretting why you had even agreed to this in the first place. “I—”
Steve chuckled softly. “I wanted to hear yours too.” He admitted. Nancy made a strangled squeaking noise behind you, finding the whole conversation amusing. Steve instantly caught it, the suspicion showing in his voice. “Who was that?” He asked.
“No one.” Your eyes widened, signaling for Nancy to shut up silently.
“Sounded like somebody was laughing?” He asked again
“I think you’re hearing things.” You forcefully laughed, trying to end the conversation as soon as possible before you could dig a deeper hole for yourself. “I have to go!”
“But, sweetheart—”
“Sorry, Steve, have a good night!” You caught the last half sentence leaving him.
“You didn’t even call me—”
You hung up before he could finish, breathing rapidly. Nancy burst into laughter so loudly that you buried your face into your hands. “Oh my gosh!” She gasped between breaths. “He asked if your tummy hurt.” She mocked in an overly sweet tone.
“Shut up, Wheeler.” You grumbled, but thinking the same yourself.
She wiped tears from her eyes, still attempting to fight off her laughter. “I rest my case.” Nancy smirked. “He’s your boyfriend.”
You were sat in the passenger seat of Steve’s beamer, the windows rolled down as a cool breeze drifted through. Steve tapped against the steering wheel while humming along to the radio, going in no particular destination.
You stared out the windshield, deep in thought. “Steve?”
He hummed in response. “Mhm?”
“Are you my boyfriend?” You blurted out. His foot nearly slipped off the pedal, about to swerve the car off the side of the road.
“What?” He said exasperatingly, you turned towards him. “Huh—wait—what?” He blinked, face turning bright red. “What’d you just ask me?”
You laughed at his reaction, staying calm yourself. “I asked if you’re my boyfriend.”
Steve opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “Well, I-I…” he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I mean,” he was doing everything except saying no.
You gave him a crooked smile. “You basically already act like my boyfriend.” You explained.
His blush deepened. “So,” you shrugged. “What difference does it make?”
Steve stayed quiet for a moment, then a sheepish smile spread across his face. “Yeah,” he exhaled. “Yeah, you’re right.”
His smile grew wider, keeping his eyes on you. “I’m your boyfriend.” He reached over the center console, intertwining his fingers with yours as though he’d been doing it forever.
Although, there was still one more thing left to make it official. He’d make sure to press a big sweet kiss right on your lips before you could leave.
Igaram, your unwavering loyalty to your homeland will never be forgotten. But more than that, you were my support. You always believed in me, even when I doubted myself. You were like a second father to me ever since I was little. And as I traveled far from home, far from my own father, you felt like home. So I thank you. Not just for your service, but for your love and your protection. I owe you my life.
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: steve harrington x reader x eddie munson
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.7k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mdni, poly!steddie, established relationship, dom!steve, soft!servicedom!eddie, sub!reader, piv sex, degradation, edging, orgasm control, hair-pulling, praise kink, also a little brat-taming i guess, check-ins (traffic light system), mean!steve but he loves u both, fluff, they’re all just sickeningly in love, eddie's pov
series masterlist
Six months.
That’s how long it’s been since Eddie Munson’s learned what it means to be loved.
Relentless in the way rain smooths stone, this love is patient and deep and thorough.
Six months since that night, when you and Steve kissed him, one on either side, lips gentle as you whispered: We can be more, if you want.
That night you said, Come home with us, and meant it.
He hadn’t known what home was until then. Now, he knows it in his bones.
He knows it in the lines of your face in the morning, soft with sleep. In the heat of Steve’s palm against the small of his back. In the smell of lavender soap and coconut sunscreen and bitter coffee grounds.
He knows it in the way Steve collects all your scribbled notes on the fridge like scripture:
don’t forget milk!
back by 9
love you ◡̈
In the way you collect pieces of time, too.
Movie stubs. A wrinkled matchbook from the Hideout where Eddie first whispered I love you. The guitar pick he gave you as an anniversary present, his initials etched on the back in a shaky scrawl.
You tuck love into the corners of your lives. You make a home out of the moments.
Eddie’s learned all the soft, tender things.
But he knows about all the filthy things, too. He’s no saint.
He knows the exact way your head tips when you’re close. That the tender patch behind your ear, where your perfume fades, is a straight line to the prettiest sound he’s ever heard.
He knows you cry a little when edged too long. That you beg so sweet when you’re made to wait. That your favorite toy is still that very first lavender vibrator; you come harder with it than anything else.
He knows Steve’s thighs twitch when he’s seconds from the edge. That he likes getting head with someone holding his hands. That there’s a small mole right at the base of his cock that makes him squirm every time Eddie kisses it.
He knows Steve gets possessive when he watches you and Eddie together, jaw tightening, eyes going dark.
She’s fucking ours, Munson.
Eddie lives for it. Needs it.
And he knows you love it, too. Being the center of their orbit, shared and indulged.
He’s addicted to all of it.
But more than all that, he’s learned himself.
He’s learned he can sit still. That he can sit on the floor between your legs, your fingers carding through his hair while Steve flips lazily through some worn issue of Cosmo, reading the dumb quizzes aloud just to make you both laugh. He can sit there for hours and not feel the itch to move or talk or fill the silence.
Because it’s not empty anymore. It’s full.
He’s learned that crying doesn’t make him weak. That he can have a nightmare and wake up with someone already there, rubbing his back, telling him he’s safe.
He knows how it feels to have both of you around him at once—your thighs around his head, Steve’s hand around his cock. Knows the heady rush of being stretched open while one of you holds him down and the other tells him he’s beautiful.
He’s learned he likes the marks. Likes the scratches down his back from your nails. The bruises on his hips where Steve grips tight. Likes waking up sore and smiling, knowing exactly where the ache came from.
He’s learned that being loved isn’t just about sex.
But god, the sex—it’s reverent and filthy and everything he never let himself want before now.
And above all else, he loves getting to feel you fall apart in his arms.
Loves even more that you let him piece you back together.
So tonight, when you pull him down onto the couch with a hushed little come here, whispering dirty promises with that half-lidded, love-drunk grin, he follows without a word.
You're laughing as you climb into his lap, fingers diving into his hair, greedy in the way he secretly adores. The TV glows soft in the corner, a rerun that’s been on since Steve left a couple hours ago for his evening shift.
He should be home by now.
The thought passes through him distantly until your thighs tighten around his hips, until your hips start to roll against his own, dragging heat through the front of his sweats. He shudders, hands slipping under your shirt on instinct.
“Baby, you—fuck—you’re gonna get yourself in trouble doing that.”
Your lips hover over his, eyes gleaming with something wicked and sweet. “What if I want to get in trouble?”
He huffs a helpless laugh, head thudding back against the couch. “Damn menace…”
“You know it.” You hum before dragging him into a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue.
Impatient fingers start to tug at his curls, gentle and then not. The rhythm of your hips becomes insistent, the couch squeaking softly beneath you, each movement punctuated by shared breaths and the quiet, hungry smacks of mouths finding each other again and again.
And then:
“I’m home!”
The soft jangle of keys hits the dish by the door, followed by the muted thud of shoes kicked off onto linoleum.
“In here, baby!” You chirp, still smiling, still perched on his lap.
Eddie, breathless, doesn’t know whether to laugh or brace himself.
“Coming!” Steve’s voice calls back, happy and sing-song.
The faint clink of the fridge door. Running water. The familiar shuffle of socked feet across hardwood.
Then Steve appears in the doorway.
Shoulder propped against the frame, arms crossed and bulging in a tight blue and white polo. Glass of water held loose in one hand, he lets his gaze drift lazily across the room, drinking in every detail.
You in Eddie’s lap. Eddie’s red mouth. His rumpled shirt. The slow, not-so-innocent grind of your hips where you haven’t quite stopped moving.
Steve grins.
You lift your chin and smile back, shameless. One arm loops around Eddie’s neck, staking claim, before you lean down to press a soft kiss to his jaw—punctuation.
Steve quirks a brow, strolls in. Sets the glass on the side table and lets his eyes linger on both of you.
“Well,” he drawls, lips curling. “This looks cozy.”
He leans down to kiss you first, quick and familiar. Then he turns, giving one to Eddie too, lips brushing his temple, fingers grazing his nape.
And Eddie—god, he still flinches a little. Not because it’s unwelcome, but because it never stops surprising him. That Steve can touch like that, can give away affection so freely. Like it costs him nothing. Like it means everything.
That it can be this easy.
It burns, sometimes. In the terrifying way. In the good way.
Steve drops onto the couch beside him in a slow sprawl, legs open, hand already resting on your thigh.
There, sitting hip to hip with Eddie, he turns his head and just... looks at you. Holds your gaze for a long, quiet beat. Like your face is a blackboard and he’s solving some wild, unspeakable equation. His eyes glow dark amber under the lamplight, edged with a curious thought.
Not math, Eddie thinks. Chemistry. Combustion.
Eventually, Steve seems to decide on a tone.
“Hi, gorgeous,” he croons, all brassy and honey-warm.
The sound of it swims through the room, thick as syrup. Steve’s fingers trail slowly up your neck, the backs of his knuckles brushing along your jaw in a gesture so gentle it makes your breath catch. They slip into your hair, threading through with the same care one might use to untangle a silk ribbon.
Until...
His grip tightens.
Hard enough to tip your chin back.
Tilt the spotlight. Isolate you.
When Steve speaks again, his voice has changed.
No more honey. It’s steel wrapped in silk.
“Were you a good girl for Eddie tonight, baby?”
Eddie blinks, heart jolting, thoughts stuttering.
That tone. A clean, whipcrack switch that cuts straight through the room.
He feels it like a shift in barometric pressure, the electric promise of a storm.
Your lashes flutter, lips parting as you try to nod, but Steve’s fingers tighten just enough to keep you still.
“Mhm,” you breathe.
From beside Eddie, Steve makes this sound. A low, guttural hum, almost a growl caught in his chest.
“I don’t know,” he starts, voice rumbling deep.
His gaze stays locked on you, the grip in your hair pinning you in place.
“What do you think, Eds? Has she been good?”
Then, even lower: “Or was she a desperate little slut, like she always is?”
Oh.
Oh, shit.
It’s about to be that kind of night.
Your jaw falls slack. Your thighs twitch around Eddie’s. He feels it, the way your body answers first, ahead of thought. That soft, desperate whimper that gets trapped in your throat when you try to swallow it down.
What if I want to get in trouble?
Eddie almost laughs. Almost.
You fucking menace.
Instead, he adjusts his grip around your waist, fingers skimming up your ribs, dragging just high enough to make your breath hitch.
He tilts his head, playing it casual. Lethal with it.
“I mean… she did start it.”
Steve huffs through his nose—a clipped, amused little exhale—and his expression hardens.
You look wrecked already: lips parted, chest heaving, eyes flicking between them like you can’t decide who you want first.
You're waiting.
You like the waiting.
Steve’s thumb brushes along your jaw, deceptively soft. “You did start it, huh?”
“Hmm,” you breathe, trying for sweet, but your voice trembles. Your lips twitch, the excitement underneath stretching taut like a wire about to snap. “Baby, I was good. Promise…”
It’s almost convincing. Almost.
Steve laughs. It’s a quiet, cruel sound. Dragged up from his chest like he’s letting you in on a joke you’re not quite smart enough to get. The hand in your hair tightens again, tugging you back a little further, baring your throat to the ceiling.
“Good, huh?” He tilts your head a fraction, studying your face like he’s remembering the exact shape of your mouth when you lie. “You sure about that?”
You make a high, helpless noise, fingers knotting in the front of Eddie’s shirt.
“Couldn’t even wait for me to get home, grinding all over Eddie.” Steve sinks deeper into the couch, thigh pressing against Eddie’s in a slow, deliberate push that sends a jolt up Eddie’s spine. “It’s kind of pathetic, you know that?”
Eddie watches, burning with awe, as you come apart in his lap.
Loved and ruined in equal measure.
This is what Steve does.
One moment, he’s light: hands like balm, lips like sunrise. And the next, he’s fire: no warmth, just heat.
Steve Harrington is the sun, radiant and merciless.
He’ll offer you his heart on a silver platter, then burn you to ash. Split you wide open, make you sob with nothing but his voice in your ear and his gaze pinning you like a blade between the ribs.
And right now? With that hunger in his eyes, with the way his tongue’s dragging over his lip like he’s savoring the taste of your ruin?
You’d be lucky to make it out of this one alive.
You whimper again, throat bobbing with a swallow. Steve’s grip is merciless now, his hand a vice, keeping your head tipped uncomfortably far back.
And then—because you’re you, because you never fold easy, because you’re wild and stubborn in the most beautiful ways—
You smile.
That wicked, glorious thing that tears Eddie in two every single time.
“We were just warming up the couch for you, Stevie,” you breathe. “Swear.”
You seal your fate with a demonstrative roll of your hips, bearing down against the bulge in Eddie’s pants.
Oh, god have mercy on you.
Steve’s eyes narrow, amusement twitching at the corner of his mouth.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, thumb brushing softly across your cheek. “You think that’s clever?”
Then the hand in your hair tugs hard. Eddie sees it in the way you wince for real this time, breath hitching, eyes squeezing shut.
Immediately, Steve murmurs: “Color, baby.”
Your answer comes faster than Eddie can blink, breathless but sure:
“Green. So green.”
Eddie watches you both, enthralled.
Another lesson. One of a thousand he’s learned from the two of you.
What once felt awkward and uncertain, he gets now. Understands what it means when Steve color-checks in that tone, low and anchored, like a lifeline.
A reminder that no matter how rough it gets, no matter how far they take you apart, the center always holds.
Eddie swallows hard, brushing his thumb low on your waist, right where your skin is warmest. He feels the shiver ripple through you, delicate and involuntary.
God, he loves you. Loves Steve. So fucking much it fills him right to the top, threatens to spill over and crack him open.
Steve exhales through his nose, pressing a kiss into your temple with steadying warmth.
“Good girl.”
And just like that, you melt.
It’s magic, the way you do. Such a precious treat to see it like this, so up close. Watching you go liquid from two little words, eyes glazing over, lashes drooping like you’re drifting someplace sweet and far away. You’re hovering in that delicious space he knows you love most: half in penance, half in worship, trembling with the need to give more, to be better, to be theirs.
Steve dips closer, voice sliding back into that velvet-edged steel.
“You were good, huh?” He mocks. “Grinding on him like a desperate slut. That counts as good behavior now?”
Eddie almost chokes at the whiplash of it all.
But you? You only moan louder, hips bucking, thighs squeezing around him as you chase friction like it might save your life.
“Jesus,” Eddie mutters, hands tightening on your waist. His thumbs keep tracing slow, loving circles over your belly, far too gentle for how desperately you’re moving against him. “Look at you, gorgeous…”
Steve hums at that. “You love it when he talks like that, don’t you?” His eyes cut to Eddie, sharp and knowing. “Gets you all wet and needy while I’m gone.”
Your breath hitches when you try to protest. “I—”
“No.” Steve’s voice slices clean through the air. “You don’t speak unless I say.”
You swallow back the words with a small, obedient whimper.
Steve’s fingers slip from your hair, tracing the column of your throat. They settle there. Just a little weight, not hard enough to choke, but Eddie knows it’s a promise.
“You wanna show us?” Steve murmurs, leaning in until his breath fans your cheek. “Show us how good you can be?”
You nod once, pupils blown so wide your irises are nothing but a whisper of color.
“That’s my girl.” He kisses the side of your jaw. “Stay right here, baby. On Eddie.”
Steve sinks behind you onto the floor, knees against the carpet, chest pressed flush to your spine. His hands slip under Eddie’s, cupping your ribs. Four hands move as one as they lift and peel your shirt away, baring you inch by inch.
“Fuck, baby…” Eddie breathes, hands roaming your skin. “So fucking pretty.”
Steve crowds closer, lips brushing your shoulder. His touches are less careful: callused palms cupping your breasts, thumbs rolling your nipples into stiff peaks before pinching them with a sharp tug.
You whine, lashes fluttering.
“Please,” you whisper. “Want…”
“What do you want, sweetheart?” Steve croons, teeth grazing your ear. “Use your words.”
“Wanna… wanna come. Please.”
Steve snorts softly, like he’s barely impressed. “Already?”
Eddie smiles too, eyes glued to the way your body arches, the way your nipples are pebbling under Steve’s clever fingers. “So needy, aren’t you, gorgeous?”
“Greedy, more like,” Steve mutters, pinching again so hard you gasp. “Always so full of it. Mouth, cunt, attitude…”
You whimper at the words; Eddie knows how a little cruelty lights up your veins, praise and degradation mixing the same way in your blood.
You turn toward Steve, mouth parted, seeking his kiss with helpless instinct. He catches your chin, amused, before pulling you in. The kiss is filthy, hungry, his tongue sliding into your mouth in one smooth stroke to claim.
Eddie watches, struck stupid at the sight—your moans muffled against Steve’s lips, body rocking mindlessly against Eddie’s dick. He’s practically leaking under his sweats, the heat from your cunt soaking straight through the fabric.
“Can I touch you, baby?” Eddie whispers against your jaw where Steve’s still holding you in place. He knows the answer, but he needs it anyway.
You nod frantically, a slick string of spit stretching between you and Steve when he lets you pull away.
“Yes, Eddie, please, need you—”
Eddie doesn’t waste a second. He tugs your shorts aside, fingers sliding through your slick—
“Jesus christ.” He stares up at you. “Baby, you’re dripping.”
“Always is,” Steve mutters, lips against the side of your throat, sucking a mark hard enough to bruise. “Pretty slut loves to show off.”
You whine, arching back into his chest as Eddie sinks two fingers into you, slow and deep until his knuckles kiss your skin.
Your entire body bows.
“Fuck, fuck—Eds—”
He curls his fingers, rubbing against that perfect spot like he’s been practicing for months (he has). His thumb circles your clit with steady precision, and your whimpers turn into breathless little cries.
Between your moans and the wet squelch of your arousal, Eddie almost misses your next words.
“Please... wannit, want you inside...”
He pulls his fingers out slowly, watching your hips chase nothing. His cock is throbbing painfully as he pushes his sweats down.
Steve’s voice cuts in, merciless.
“Ask him nicely, slut.”
“Please,” you sob. “Please fuck me, Eddie—need your cock, wanna feel you—please—”
Eddie’s answering smile is pure warmth. “I got you, sweet girl. C’mere.”
He guides you down with both palms cupping your hips. His fingers glisten with your arousal, smearing across your skin.
Inch by careful inch, the slow sink inside you is hot and tight and buttery-smooth.
“Fuuuck…” Eddie groans, completely, devastatingly in love.“You feel so good. Take it so fucking well.”
Steve wraps his arms around you, palm splaying over your stomach.
“What do you say?”
“T-thank you,” you gasp. “Thank you, thank you—”
Every slow thrust rocks a sob out of you. A particularly well-placed grind has you mewling, clawing at Steve’s arms.
Steve cups your jaw, forcing your head back against his shoulder. “You close, sweetheart?”
You nod, frantic.
“Words.”
“Yes, yes, please—can I—”
“Not yet.”
Your cry is sharp enough to cut straight through Eddie’s heart.
“Steve,” he grunts, strained. “She’s—”
“I know.” Steve hums, maddeningly calm. His hand slides down to feel your cunt, fingers obscenely framing the place where Eddie’s stretching you open. “She can wait. Can’t you, honey?”
You shake your head in frantic, tiny motions. “P-please, can’t…”
“Breathe through it,” he says softly. “You’re not coming until I say.”
“N-no, please, I....”
“Where are your manners, baby? Eddie’s being so good to your greedy little pussy right now.”
“I’m sorry,” you sob instantly. “Sorry—thank you, Eddie, thank you—Steve, please—”
Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this. This raw honesty in you. How you become this soft, pleading, open thing in their hands. It’s beautiful, it’s mesmerizing, the way you allow yourself to beg. To come apart for them so helplessly.
And when he lifts his head, meeting Steve’s gaze over your shoulder, he knows exactly what that look means.
Steve leans in close to your ear, voice dropping to a purr, eyes still locked on Eddie’s.
“You gonna come for him? Make a mess all over his lap?”
“Yes—need to... so close...”
Eddie feels you squeeze around him, tight then tighter, knows it won’t take much more to get you to break. He’s fucking you proper now, thighs lifting off the couch, hammering against that spot until you’re choking on your own breaths.
“That’s it,” he grunts. “Good girl.”
“Please, please, I need to—I can’t—”
Steve’s fists your hair again, grounding you with a sharp tug. “Not yet.”
You nearly scream, nails digging into Steve’s forearms. “No—please! Steve, I can’t—”
“You can. You will. You’re our good girl, aren’t you?”
Even sobbing, your nod is immediate. “Yes. Yours, yours, always—good for you both, please—”
Eddie shudders, the word both hitting him in a place so deep he nearly loses his rhythm.
Steve smiles, hums a satisfied little note.
And then, finally, he nods.
“Let go, baby,” he breathes. “Come.”
And you break.
The orgasm rips through you in a violent shudder. You sob, convulsing, collapsing forward into Eddie’s chest as every muscle seizes and trembles. You’re shaking so hard he’d be worried if he didn’t know you love it like this.
Eddie cradles your head, lets his movements slow, helping you come down with shallow, gentle thrusts. “That’s it,” he whispers, voice trembling under the weight of everything he feels for you. “Ride it out, there you go, baby. So good. So fucking good. We got you.”
Steve’s lips move in a slow drag along your cheek, murmuring praises soft enough to make you cry harder.
And though you’re too far gone to notice it, Eddie sees the look on Steve’s face.
Adoration, vivid and sparkling, like sunlight fracturing through stained glass.
It lives in his gaze, his smile, the gentle crease at the corner of his eyes and the quiet strength in the set of his jaw—every warm, golden inch of the man Eddie loves.
When your shaking finally slows, your breath tapering down into little broken huffs against Eddie’s collarbone, you lift your head.
And the sight that meets him just about takes his breath away.
Eyes wide and glassy, lashes jeweled with tears. Lips parted in small, shaky breaths, swollen from bruising kisses. You look like you’re trying to speak, words catching before they form.
But you don’t need to say anything at all.
Not when that look—god, that look—says everything.
This awful, beautiful softness in your expression, gratitude and devotion and something deeper still. Something Eddie feels unworthy of, even as he’s desperate to hold onto it.
Trust.
Bare and luminous.
It wraps around Eddie’s ribs like a pair of warm hands, squeezing until he’s breathless with the weight of it.
Stripped down to nothing but faith in the people you love most, it’s a kind of vulnerability you don’t give lightly.
Eddie’s heart lurches with something too full to keep inside.
He surges forward to cup your cheek, calloused thumb grazing your skin, and brushes his lips against yours. Barely a kiss, more breath than touch.
You melt into it with a quiet, content sound.
Behind you, Steve’s voice cracks for the first time all night: the first break in his dom voice.
“Fuck me.” he whispers. “You okay? Color?”
You mumble “green” into Eddie’s mouth, smiling.
Steve’s laugh comes out shaky, relief washing over him in a visible wave. His shoulders drop, whole body softening like he’s finally allowed himself to breathe again.
And when you turn in Eddie’s lap, still wobbly, still glowing, Steve’s already there. His hand slides up to cradle your jaw, thumb stroking the soft place beneath your ear as he draws you in for a kiss that’s nothing like earlier. Slow, gentle, built entirely from affection and no less passionate.
He keeps you close for a moment longer, thumb tracing the back of your neck. When he pulls away, it’s only so he can grab the glass of water waiting on the table. He brings it to your lips with careful hands.
“Small sips, baby. Good girl.”
You drink obediently, eyes half-lidded and lashes heavy.
When you’re done, Steve lifts the glass toward Eddie without a word. Eddie rolls his eyes for form’s sake but still leans forward, cheeks warm, letting Steve tilt the glass for him. Steve makes him drain the whole thing, eyes on him the entire time.
Only when all three of you have caught your breath does Steve straighten with a grunt, knees popping loudly.
He looks deliciously wrecked: hair wild, cheeks red, shirt crooked and rucked up on one side. His Levi’s are unbuttoned, clinging hopelessly to a very obvious problem he’s ignoring.
“Alright, you little menaces,” he sighs, planting his hands on his hips. “I’ve got ice cream in the freezer.”
You blink down at the obvious situation in his jeans. “But Stevie—”
“Ah-ah.” He points toward the kitchen. “Recharge first. C’mon.”
Your face scrunches into that bratty little frown Eddie knows too well, the one that means you’re already plotting a way around this.
But he also knows you.
And he knows there’s only one thing powerful enough to override your stubborn streak:
Ice cream.
You deflate with a huff, defeated but not really. “Fine.”
Eddie bites back a grin.
You brighten a second later, eyes going big and sparkly. “Wait, did you get—?”
“Yep.” Steve smirks.
He leans down to press a fond kiss to the crown of your head. Then his gaze shifts to Eddie, softening even more.
“Got your favorite too, Eds.”
Your laugh bubbles out, breathless and sweet. You lean back against Eddie’s chest and whisper into his hair with a conspiratorial grin:
“Hey, Eds. I think he might love us or something.”
Steve snorts, shakes his head, but his eyes crinkle at the corners with a smile too wide to deny.
“I love Eddie. You? Not so sure.”
Eddie’s heart stumbles. He has to squeeze your hip the moment he hears it, has to ground himself before he launches straight off the couch.
“Yeah, he’s uh…” He clears his throat, tries to hide the wobble in it. “One big softie, huh?”
He says it to you, but his eyes never leave Steve’s.
And Steve holds that gaze, eyes steady and warm, answering a question Eddie doesn’t say out loud.
Eddie smiles, looks away first.
You continue teasing Steve from your spot in Eddie’s lap, trying to coax him back onto the couch. “...I’m just saying babe, we could eat later. You’ll be, like, the main course before dessert!”
Steve snorts and rolls his eyes, already headed for the kitchen.
“I’m gonna start without you two if you don’t hurry up!”
“What? No fair!” you shout, scrambling upright. Eddie laughs as you drag him along by the wrist.
In the kitchen, Steve scoops out meticulous portions of ice cream while still sporting a semi. You pester him about his scooping technique—this was literally your job, babe—while perched up on the counter in Eddie’s Judas Priest shirt, legs swinging off the edge. Eddie leans next to you, arms crossed, throwing in teasing quips purely to watch Steve’s ears turn pink while he tries to defend himself.
You both last exactly ten seconds before boredom takes over.
You toss a marshmallow at Eddie's open mouth, missing so catastrophically that Steve stops scooping to interject.
The bag is confiscated before you can attempt a third throw.
Not that it stops you.
Sprinkles rain across the counter like confetti. Syrup streaks in glossy trails across the marble.
Eddie gets chocolate on his chin somehow, and Steve doesn’t even hesitate—he wipes it away with his thumb, slides it between his own lips, and sucks it clean without breaking eye contact.
Eddie chokes on his own spit. You gasp, delighted.
And if things start to unravel—as they usually do—with a smear of whipped cream on your cheek, a cold spoon pressed to Steve’s stomach, and then shirts being dragged up and over heads because “you’re all sticky, babe, just take it off."
If a moment later, Eddie finds himself pinned between two warm bodies, one in front, one behind, syrup-sweet kisses trailing across his neck, sticky fingers tracing up his ribs until he can’t tell who’s gasping and who he’s gasping for…
Well.
That part’s for Eddie to keep to himself.
series masterlist
a/n: thank you to everyone who's been waiting for the series finale :) this is the last chapter, BUT if there are headcanons/ideas you’d want to see w/ these three, you can send them my way! who knows where inspiration might strike?
softdom!eddie munson x sub!reader x meandom!steve harrington ( aka poly!steddie x reader)
bored while waiting for steve to finish up the morning show, you decide to grab his attention- with your bare tits on the radio booth glass . . . ( 2.6 k )
a/n: pretty sure nobody has done this yet but i just love the concept of utilising the huge fucking glass box at wsqk. i guess this also techincally falls into the troublemaker reader au but she' s a bit less bitchy here so idk. also i kinda wrote steve meaner than i wouldve but i dont think hes a full on mean dom so idk if the tag is deceiving lol ( divider by @cafekitsune )
tags: mdni 18 + , flashing, annoying eddie and r, oral (m receiving), cum eating (kinda idk?), p in v sex, rough steve, gentle eddie, cumming inside, kinda mean steve, rough sex, r described as wearing lip gloss and a skirt, pet names, steve calls r a whore like once
There’s virtually nothing to do in Hawkins after the quarantine, so when Steve has to fill in for a sick Robin during their morning show, you and Eddie are more than happy to tag along.
Except for the fact that it’s boring- you can’t even hear Steve through the soundproof booth as you slump down on the couch, picking lint off of your sweater. Eddie kicks feet up on the coffee table, scrubbing his eyes as he yawns.
You sigh, flicking away the soft cotton and turning to your boyfriend as your feet dig into his side. “Eddie, I’m bored.”
He snorts, throwing back his head of pretty curls to stare at the ceiling, his big hands rested on his stomach. “Yeah, sweetheart, I kinda gathered that with your intense lint-picking over there.” he sighs, checking the time on his black watch, “We’ve got like, 10 minutes until our boy’s done, and then we can get the fuck out of here. Grab a pizza on the way home or something.”
Your groan comes exaggerated and whiny as you pout petulantly. “You said 10 minutes until it’s over, like, 10 minutes ago.”
“Dude, you’re so impatient,” he laughs, before jumping up to stretch. His white t-shirt lifts up to reveal a sliver of his happy trail, and you stare greedily. It disappears quicker than it was there, and Eddie holds a hand out for you to lift yourself up. “C’mon, baby, let’s go see how long Stevie has left.”
You both make your way over to the glass booth, where Steve lounges in his chair, mic in hand. He lounges in his desk chair, ankles crossed so he can stretch out. You know Robin would freak if she saw his sneakers all over her sacred workplace. You gently rap on the glass to get his attention,
How long? Eddie mouths, pointing to his watch.
Steve’s eyebrows furrow: 10 minutes, why?
You make an exaggerated gesture of choking yourself, pretending to bang your head against the glass: I’m bored.
Steve rolls his eyes. Read a book, he gestures to Robin’s stack of science-fiction novels on the table. You and Eddie both tried but to no avail. He’d already read all of them twice and would ‘accidentally’ spoil the plot-twist every time you picked up a new one.
You point a finger at Eddie: He can’t read.
“Hey!” Eddie scoffs, shoving you slightly with a pout, “Asshole.”
You watch with a grin as Steve covers his mouth to stifle his laughter before pointing at you and Eddie to sit back down and wait.
“He’s just jealous that if we had our sticky hands on those mics, we would be unstoppable.” Eddie grimaces, rolling on the balls of his feet as he stares daggers at Steve, trying to get him to break as you giggle, “We would rope in so many listeners, and then Steve would just have to be known as our trophy husband for the rest of our lives.”
Steve knocks on the window, glaring at you and Eddie. Cut it out, he mouths, pointing at the microphone, trying to wrap up the morning session before your antics begin.
In true Eddie fashion, he pulls the world's most ridiculous face at Steve, eyes moving in opposite directions as his tongue lolls out. You smack his shoulder, “Dude, how’re you even doing that?” Steve shields his eyes with a hand before throwing Eddie the bird.
“Ouch.” Eddie winces as Steve avoids all eye-contact, making a talking hand motion to the two of you.
“Wait.” You shuffle nearer to where Steve is sitting behind the glass, hooking your thumbs under the bottom of your shirt and lifting them up to reveal your bare tits. Eddie chokes on his spit next to you.
“Holy fuck,” he breathes out, his hand clasped over his mouth. You think it must be a miracle: Eddie Munson, rendered speechless.
You press your bare chest against the glass, hissing at the cold sensation on your nipples as Steve looks up.
The poor boy practically falls out of his chair, his feet slipping off the desk as he sits rigid and upright, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. You watch him splutter into his mic, his wide brown eyes still trained on your tits.
Eddie comes up from behind you, his curly hair tickling your cheek as he holds your hips, pulling your ass back into his hardened cock. You grind back into him and he moans into your ear. “Our poor baby,” he tsks at Steve, both of you watching a tent grow in his jeans, “got him all worked up already, sweetheart?”
You brace your hands against the glass wall as you feel Eddie’s hands travel up your skirt, his fingertips brushing your clothed cunt. In one swift movement, he rips off your panties and your denim skirt, letting them both pool around your ankles. Steve’s jaw seems to unhinge itself further.
You grab Eddie’s wrist, checking his watch. “We’ve got 5 minutes, baby.” you moan as his fingers collect the slick pooling in your cunt, using the lubrication to easily draw figure eights over your clit, “Gotta make this quick.”
You press a kiss to the glass, leaving behind a pink lip gloss mark. Eddie pulls his fingers away to wave them at Steve, showing off your slick ribbons before licking up his middle and ring finger, his digits almost brushing the back of his throat. Steve stays glued to his seat, unable to pull his eyes away. His hand drops from behind his head to squeeze at his bulge.
Eddie quickly removes his studded belt, letting it drop to the floor with a clang before pulling his cock out of his jeans. You keep your tits pressed firmly to the glass for Steve to admire, the surface pushing your cleavage up. Eddie kisses up your neck as your hot breath fogs up the glass. You’re almost dizzy with want as you watch Steve dip his hand into his waistband.
“Sorry, honey,” Eddie mumbles, eyes still admiring the flushed, desperate looking boy in front of you, “we don’t really have time for foreplay.” He guides his tip to your wet cunt to coat it in your juices, preparing to fuck into you and put on a show for Steve.
“That’s okay,” you respond, all breathy and cute as Eddie’s heart swells, “played with myself in the shower before we left.”
His nose gently knocks the side of your head in an affectionate gesture. “Smart girl.” he praises before pushing into you with a low moan.
Even though you were three-fingers deep that morning, nothing would’ve been able to prepare you for the stretch of Eddie’s cock. It feels like years before he finally bottoms out with a low groan, his torso pressing hard into your ass. “Open up for me, honey,” Eddie mumbles, talking to your pussy as you moan against the glass.
Steve’s eyebrow twitches as he watches your blissed-out expression, albeit void of all you and Eddie’s prettiest sounds. His cock aches as he hurries to queue the next songs.
“-And now we’ll be joined by Indiana’s own Michael Jackson with, “We Are The World.” Steve speaks hurriedly into the microphone he’s white knuckling, using his other hand to fumble with his zipper. “We’ll see you all tomorrow morning-” He watches with wide eyes as Eddie kisses the length of your neck, “-This has been, um, the Squawk.”
His trousers are already halfway down his thighs as he presses mute, ripping off his headphones and throwing the booth door open, letting it slam against the wall. The sound of your moans and the slap of Eddie’s balls against your clit fill his ears as he practically sprints over to meet the two of you.
Steve’s on you two in an instant, one hand in Eddie’s hair to press a rough kiss into his mouth and his other cupping your jaw, his thumb snaking its way in between your lips. Eddie’s forced to pull out of you with a wet shlick as Steve drags him over to the couch, their lips still connected as they tumble over the back and on top of each other.
“Hey!” you pout, arms crossed over your chest.
Steve’s hand shoots up to beckon you over. “C’mere.” he says, letting out a long curse after as you hear Eddie press wet kisses down Steve’s neck.
He’s already shirtless, his jeans halfway down his big thighs as Eddie slots a leg in between his legs, letting Steve rut over black denim while he pumps Eddie slowly, his cock still wet with your slick.Your mouth waters at the sight and Steve shuffles back against the arm of the couch, letting you slot yourself in between the two panting boys. His mouth captures yours in a hungry kiss as you feel Eddie come up from behind you, his big chest pressing hard into your back so your tits can press against Steve’s torso. You’re now effectively sandwiched.
Steve pulls away from you, his hand coming up to roughly grip your jaw, eyes flickering between you and a grinning Eddie. “You’re both so fucking awful, you know that?” he grits out as Eddie’s hands reach under your armpits to palm at your tits, letting the soft flesh spill out from in between his fingers as Steve groans.
“I wasn’t the one with these tits on the glass,” Eddie huffs out, pressing a soft kiss to your head, “Fucking perfect, by the way, sweetheart. Prettiest things I’ve ever fuckin’ seen.”
Oh, Eddie, you think, how do you manage to make the most vulgar comments sound so sweet?
Steve rolls his eyes. “Sit back, honey.” he orders Eddie, who leans back against the arm of the couch, peeling the rest of his clothes off onto a pile on the floor.
Before you can process what’s happening, Steve flips you on your stomach, your face inches away from Eddie’s cock and your heat pressing against his length. You immediately grip Eddie’s cock, kissing up his thighs as he cradles your face.
You’re mouthing at the base of Eddie’s cock when Steve presses into you, forcing out a pornographic moan out of your lips. Your legs shake as he bottoms out, his tip kissing your cervix as he presses hard into your back, forcing you into an arch.
“So fucking tight, baby. Jesus Christ.” he groans, pulling out to watch his fat cock disappear back in your warm cunt. “My little attention whore.” Steve coos, his hands running up and down your back, “I shouldn’t even be doing this- giving you what you want. Maybe I should pull out, let you go all dumb on one cock instead of two. What do you think?”
Eddie snorts at Steve’s empty threats, watching his expression that you can’t see. Steve’s eyes roll back with every slow thrust. You couldn’t pay that man enough money in the world to pull out of your sweet cunt, Eddie thinks.
Your head whips around, hands still pumping Eddie as you whine. “No- no, baby.” you plead as Steve’s face returns to an apathetic expression, “‘M sorry, Stevie. I won’t do it again.”
He nods to Eddie, “Eds?”
Eddie pretends to think about it, his thumb stroking your cheek gently as you look up at him kissing his tip so you can encourage the answer you want. “I believe her. She’s drooling all over my cock, Harrington, I’d say she wants it real bad.” he grins.
“Alright,” Steve says simply, and buries himself deep inside of you.
Sparks fly up your body and his hands grip your waist, fucking into you at a relentless pace as you’re thrown farther up Eddie’s legs, hands clawing up his thighs while you scream.
“Fuck, fuck- Steve, wait!” you whine, pleasure making your legs go numb as he digs bruises into your sides. “Take what you want, baby.” Steve says roughly, the sound of his skin against yours filling the room, “You fuckin’ asked for it.”
Eddie talks you through it, watching your eyes roll back with every thrust. “I gotcha, honey.” he coos, his cock still aching, “Feels good right? I’m going to need you to do something for me, sweetheart: I’m gonna need you to suck me off, m’kay? Can you do that?”
You nod dumbly, whines still spilling out of your throat as you grip Eddie’s thick cock with both hands and press his length into your mouth. Your warm mouth envelops him as he grips your hair, gently guiding you up and down his cock.
“Ohhh, shit.” Eddie groans out a beautiful sound, head thrown back as you lick up a vein on his shaft, “Good girl, baby. Good fucking girl.”
You feel filled to the brim as Eddie slowly fucks into your mouth while Steve’s hips slam into the back of your thighs, his pubes coated in your juices. “Fucking strangling my cock, honey.” he groans, feeling the start of his orgasm pool in his stomach, “So needy, being all sweet for me now, aren’t you?”
You try to voice your agreement, but Eddie holds your head down as you breathe in roughly through your nose. The answer comes out warbled on his cock as he sighs. “You don’t have to speak, baby,” Steve laughs, pushing your back into a deeper arch that has you feeling split open, “Pussy’s dripping all over me, I know you fuckin’ love it.”
Eddie groans as you whine around his cock, sending vibrations up his body that have him shivering as he chases his orgasm. “Steve,” he warns, “‘M close, baby.”
Steve nods, running his hands through his hair. “Me too, Eds.” he agrees with a moan “Our girl here’s close too- I can feel her pussy sucking me in, holyshit.”
He’s right. You can feel your thighs trembling as Steve pounds into you, rolling his hips so his tip presses into your sensitive spot inside. There are stars in your bleary vision as Steve’s thrusts become more frantic, your brunette boy chasing his own release.
Eddie cums first with a shout, holding your head all the way down his cock, his pubes tickling your nose. You feel his warm seed trickle down your throat as he moans. “Fuck, baby, so fucking good.” He brushes the hair out of your face to get a good look at your blissed out expression, eyes in the back of your head and your eyebrows turned upwards.
Steve cums just as you do, filling your pussy to the brim as he gently rocks into you, working you through your shared orgasm. Your pussy flutters around him as you feel your body go limp with a mix of exhaustion and pleasure. “That’s it, baby, that’s it.” he praises, massaging your sides gently, “Did so well for us, our good girl.”
Eddie lifts you off of his cock with a wet pop just as Steve pulls out of you, letting his cum run down in between your thighs. “Fuck,” you whine hoarsely, feeling empty. Eddie lays you gently on his bare chest as your eyes flutter shut, hearing Steve’s footsteps retreat back somewhere into the building.
“Good job, sweetheart.” he mumbles into the crown of your head, your hands coming to wrap around his neck. You feel a dip in the couch as Steve returns with a warm towel, cleaning up himself before gently wiping down your legs and you whimper as he brushes your sensitive cunt. “Sorry,” he whispers before coming around to kneel in front of you, gently wiping off Eddie’s cum from the side of your cheek.
“Hey,” he greets softly as Eddie cups his face with a soft smile. ‘’You okay? Wasn’t too mean, was I?”
“No, Steve.” you mumble into Eddie’s chest, your hand seeking his, “I like it when you get all mean, baby.”
He holds your hand tight, his voice gently lulling you to sleep. “I know,” he beams, “just wanted to hear you say it.”
⋆.𐙚 ̊ cw — mdni, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, pet names, steve is kinda mean, he’s also very cocky, brat taming, no foreplay, he loves dirty talk, big dick!steve— please lmk if i missed anything
⋆.𐙚 ̊ summary — with your period looming right around the corner and the station’s ac blowing out right before the hottest day in indiana, you were an irritable mess. after hours of snappy comments and tantrums towards your boyfriend steve, he finally decides to show you who really calls the shots.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ authors note — hi guys idk what possessed me to write this but steve just gives brat tamer yk??? so excited to see djo and tame impala on monday so expect to be sick of me. also currently writing sparks and its the little things you do pt 2!!! please send in any smutty or fluffy requests you have :p
⋆.𐙚 ̊ wc — 3.78k
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹ please do not copy, rewrite, or repost my works on any other platforms or pages.
today was undoubtedly one of the hottest indiana has ever seen. and of course, with the luck that your and your friends had, the AC at the squawk went down last night. you and robin had stood outside with flashlights in hand as steve fumbled with the fuses and plugs and such for an hour. no luck.
which meant for the station had an entire night to incubate with the blazing heat. walking in this morning felt like you had literally stepped into hell.
irritated was a massive understatement. you were hot, annoyed, bloated and puffy from your incoming period, extremely irritable, and exhausted all at once. it made for the worst combination in a situation like this.
and steve… oh bless him. he was just trying to be the supportive, sweet boyfriend in a time like this. and he was certainly in an affectionate mood— one where he was all soft and just wanted to cling to you at all times. the two of you had been practically cooking in the heat of the sound booth as you played each tape robin had requested and his idea of passing time meant touching any prt of you possible. and fortunately enough for her, she was out at the gas station grabbing some more ice for your water bottles to help cool you all down.
once you felt the uncomfortable beading of sweat form at your hairline, you stepped out and into the small living area, reaching into the fridge for some sort of snack. you could hear footsteps approaching.
steve slid up right behind you, his chest pressing against your back and his strong arms winding around your hips to hold you close. he buried his face in the crook of your neck and peppered sweet kisses to the skin there. “you smell so good, honey,” his voice a low, deep rumble that typically would make you melt.
but today, you just felt like a ball of raw, explosive nerves. you were so overwhelmed and hot and every single touch— even from steve— brought you closer to your break of overstimulation. the heat of his body against yours didn’t feel romantic like usual, it felt suffocating.
you stiffed and wiggled away from him, shoving his arms off of you in the process with a sharp, frustrated huff. “steve, seriously? get off,” you snapped, not even looking back at him as you closed the fridge and moved to the pile of unorganized records.
he blinked, frozen in the same position as he watched you aggressively shove the sleeves back into their intended place. he looked at you with these big, soulful eyes that made him look exactly like a kicked puppy. “i just wanted to be close to you,” he spoke softly, sounding genuinely hurt.
ten minutes later, he’s sauntered back in to find you on your knees, still organizing records. he leaned down over your shoulder, lips brushing the shell of your ear and his hands squeezing at your hips affectionately.
“stop touching me!” you snapped, practically jumping out of your skin to create distance between the two of you. “can you just leave me alone for a second? it’s a hundred degrees in here and i feel like i’m fucking melting. just… stop!”
steve visibly deflated as he stepped back. he didn’t get mad— he never really did the whole ‘angry’ thing with you— but he looked utterly defeated. he stood there for a moment too long, hands twitching at his sides uselessly, staring at you as if he couldn’t understand why his love was being completely rejected.
“i’m just trying to be sweet,” he whispered, his tone sounding small, guilty, and hurt.
you didn’t even look up from the records. “yeah, well your ‘sweetness’ is making me want to scream right now. just give me some space, steve.”
that was his breaking point. the kicked puppy look shifted into something much deeper. a flicker of tiredness behind steve’s eyes. he had spent the last four hours trying to be the most affectionate, attentive, and understanding boyfriend in a situation like this to lighten your sour mood. even ignoring the uncomfortable drip of sweat from his skin just to put your comfort first and all he got in return was snarky remarks and sharp shoves.
he sighed, a long, heavy sound that signaled a change in his mood. he didn’t move towards you this time. instead, he stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall to watch you for a moment. the warmth in his gaze never vanished, but it was now tempered with a new simmering frustration.
“right. space. got it,” he said, his voice losing that sweet, playful edge and instead becoming dull and flat.
he didn’t try touching you anymore, just stood and watched you with that quiet, disappointed intensity. he wasn’t mad or upset with you, he was just tired of being the punching bag for your changing hormones. the silence that filled the room was suffocating and heavy. for the first time all day, the lack of his touch had felt suspiciously loud.
after another hour of organizing, the two of you were back in the stuffy control room, the space feeling even smaller with the stifling heat. the air was stagnant and the only sound heard was the low hum if equipment and the muffled tune of the song through the headphones.
steve was slouched back in the chair beside yours, entirely too comfortable and his legs spread too wide. his jean clad knee was pressed up against yours, attracting even more heat to your skin. he was playing with a rubik’s cube and failing miserably. after another minute or so of turning it endlessly, he dropped it down onto the desk and let his hand idly wander over to your bare thigh before he could even realize he was doing it.
you picked it up by his finger and tugged him off, letting his hand fall back into his own lap.
he looked at you then. the tight line of your clenched jaw, the way your brows pinched towards each other out of irritation, how your arms crossed over your chest like a physical wall you’ve just put up. he felt that familiar sting of rejection immediately. but he wasn’t ready to give up, not yet. he truly believed that if he could just make you smile a little, if he could crack the shell of your bad mood, everything would revert back to normal.
he shifted a little closer, practically trying to conjoin by your sides, completely ignoring the fact that you’re both almost sweating through your clothes. he leaned in, his voice dropping down to a playful, teasing whisper that always managed to make you giggle.
“you know,” he murmured, a small, hopeful grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “i’ve heard the best cure for a bad mood is a very handsome boyfriend. and lucky for you, i’m right here. free of charge.”
he punctuated the end of his joke with a soft nudge to your shoulder. that alone would’ve been enough to make you crack a smile.
except you didn’t. instead, you sighed and rolled your eyes. “shut up, steve,” you retorted, your voice cold and sharp. “you’re not being funny, you’re being annoying. please, for the love of god, just stop talking and stop trying to touch me.”
the grin vanished instantly. his face fell as he recoiled back slightly as if the words hit him like a physical blow. he looked at you, his expression shifting from hopeful to genuinely bewildered. he wasn’t just feeling like a punching bag anymore, he felt like there was a real resentment towards him. he was trying everything— the sweetness, the humor, the patience— and you were treating him like he was a complete inconvenience.
the door to the booth swung open to reveal robin with two iced coffee’s in hand. “hey, so i got the ice and figured i’d get us something cold to—“ her gaze darting between the two of you, noticing the hard line of steve’s clenched jaw and the way your body was radiating anger. she took note of the immediate tension simmering in the heat of the room. “yikes. did someone die in here orrrr…”
steve didn’t answer, he just looked at her desperately for some kind if support, and then back to you. he tried one last time, a tentative, barely there brush of your hands.
that was the final straw. you pulled away like you’d been burned. “i can’t do this. i can’t deal with you right now!” you snapped, so incredibly overwhelmed and overstimulated that you could seriously just break down and cry right here.
steve’s hand stayed suspended in the air for a heartbeat before he slowly pulled it back. the soft, pleading eyes were gone. the tiredness was too. it shifted into something much colder and harder now. something much more assertive. he didn’t say a word to either of you, just stood and grabbed his keys from the small rack by the door with a sharp clink. “we’re leaving.” there was no room for argument.
the ride home was suffocatingly silent. his hands were practically white-knuckling the steering wheel the entire ride home. he didn’t touch you once. the lack of his hands on you, which felt like an annoyance an hour again, now had the air in the car feeling ominous and heavy.
the moment you guys were in the apartment, the cool air hit the two of you like a truck, yet the tension was still boiling. steve didn’t let you get settled, instead, his hands were on your waist with a firm grip as he guided you into your shared bedroom and shut the door behind him with his foot. it made you gulp.
he was on the verge of breaking. he turned you towards him and stepped back to create distance between the two of you. “alright, you done with your little tantrum now?” he asked, his hands on his hips like an angry father. “you gonna tell me what your problem is now? i have spent the last eight hours trying to be the best boyfriend i could possibly be. i’ve been sweet, i’ve been patient, i’ve tried to make you laugh— and you’ve just been treating me like shit all day. like i’m something you have to tolerate.”
“i told you, i’m just hot! you’re acting like i’m some big villain for not wanting you all over me when it was a thousand degrees in there,” you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly under the intensity of his gaze. “all i asked for was some space!”
steve let out a sharp, mocking laugh, his eyes darkening. “space? you didn’t want space. you wanted a punching back.” he stepped forward into your space, his presence suddenly overwhelming. “it was never about you being hot or wanting space. it’s about the things you said to me and the way you spoke to me.” before you could react, he pushed at your shoulders, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make you fall back. your bottom hit the bed, your palms flying by your hips to keep you upright.
he didn’t give you even a second to breathe. he stepped between your thighs, cornering you against the bed with his large frame hovering over you and blocking out the rest of the room. he reached down, his fingers gripping your chin firmly as he tipped it up so you were forced to look at him.
the sweetness was completely gone, now replaced by a smoldering, dominant heat that made your stomach feel all tingly. he looked so devastatingly hot right now— his hair slightly messy from the day, his eyes narrowed and piercing. he looked like he was done playing nice.
“you’ve been acting like a little brat all day,” he said, his voice dropping to that low dangerous purr that vibrated in your chest. he gave your chin a little shake, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip in a way that was demanding and possessive.
a small, mocking smirk played on his lips, his gaze scanning your face as if he was analyzing every bit of your stubbornness. “you think you can just be mean to me all day and then… what? go to bed like everything is fine?” he clicked his tongue and shook his head. “i don’t think so.”
he leaned in closer, his breath slow and controlled as it hit your skin in warm bursts. his scent was intoxicating from this distance. the grip on your chin tightened just enough to remind you who was in control. “say it,” he commanded, his voice dropping to that familiar octave that was nothing but raw and assertive. “apologize for being so mean to me today.”
even with steve looming over you, clearly in full control, you couldn’t help it. irritability was still humming through your body. you rolled your eyes and tried to pull your face away from him. it was no use. “i’m not apologizing,” you muttered, your voice still laced with that stubborn, snooty tone. “you’re just being dramatic.”
steve’s eyes flared, a dark, dangerous glint flickering behind them as he stared at you. he didn’t argue, didn’t plead. instead, he let out a deep guttural chuckle that sent chills down your body. “dramatic? of honey, you have no idea how dramatic i can be when i’ve been pushed.”
before you could snap back, he was lifting you in one fluid motion and flipping your position so he was sat at the edge of the bed with you straddling his thighs. one hand wrapped around the column of your throat— not squeezing, just resting— while the other tangled in your hair and pulled you into a searing kiss.
you gasped against him in surprise as he tugged on your roots to tilt your head back and gain more leverage over you. the force that he kissed you with was borderline predatory.
it was hungry and messy and completely uninhibited. your mouths moved together with a wet, slapping sound as your tongues tangled in a frantic battle for dominance. steve tasted like strawberries and the gatorate he’d been drinking at the station, a mix that made your head spin. he groaned deep in his throat, a vibration you could feel in your own chest he sucked your lower lip into his mouth, tugging on it hard before letting it snap back.
you fought back, hands roaming across his chest and neck, pulling him in closer as if you were trying to merge your bodies into one. you bit at his lower, a sharp, playful nip that drew a long hiss from him. he responded by deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping across the wet cavern of your mouth, claiming every corner and tasting every inch. his hands moved down to your hips, rolling them into his own.
the sounds each of you made were primal— wet, sloppy noises of tongues sliding against tongues, punctuated by deep ragged breaths for air that you both forgot you even needed. every time you broke away for a second of oxygen, it was only to snap back together with even more intensity, your lips bruising each others in their haste.
steve’s hands left your lips to fumble with the buckle of his belt, quickly shoving his jeans and boxers down to his knees and freeing himself while sucking on the pink muscle of your tongue. he was painfully hard already. he gave himself a few slow strokes while his free hand pulled your shorts and panties to the side, running his tip through your leaking slit.
he pushed into you with a devastatingly slow thrust, hands coming back to rest on your hips to keep you flush against him. you pulled away to let your head fall back in overwhelming fullness. he was fucking loving it.
he smiled up at you with that stupid cocky grin, knowing he was pressed right up against your cervix, making you go completely soft on him. “yeah? this was all you needed? just had to get you all dumb on my cock?” he teased before leaning forward to suck deep purple marks into your skin. “ready to apologize yet?”
you bit down on your puffy lip to suppress a moan, your stomach tensing every time he’d readjust the slightest bit. the stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, but you could surely feel the building pressure from the lack of warming up.
he took your silence as your answer, nodding slowly with that sly grin pulling at his lips. “got it. you still wanna be difficult then?” he asked, pushing up even further into you. your nails dug into his shoulders as you whimpered, feeling impossibly full. “that’s fine, honey. have it your way.”
“fuck you, steve,” you tried to snap out, instead, it just sounded like a pleading beg.
he smiled at you like he’d just received the best invitation of his life. “oh baby,” his hands moved to grab handfuls of your ass, holding you up just slightly as his voice rumbled. “i will.” his fingers dug into your skin with a bruising force as he thrust up into your sopping cunt with a violence that knocked the wind out of you. he buried his cock so deep inside that it felt like he was trying to reach your soul.
“you just can’t help yourself, can you?” he mocked, his voice dark and triumphant as he watched you absolutely eat this up. “you want to be all mouthy and bratty, but you fuckin’ love it when i take over, isn’t that right? love when i put you in your place?”
the moan that spilled from your lips was borderline pornographic as he fucked you with a slow, punishing rhythm that made you feel every vein and ridge of his cock against your gummy walls. he moved his hands to your hips, forcing you to take every single inch as he steered your body to meet his thrusts.
it was embarrassing how fast you could feel the coil in your stomach twisting tighter. he just looked so sexy like this— all dominant and messy and dark. you’d rarely seen this side of him.
every single punch of his mushroom tip against your cervix was a declaration of his ownership. he was driving into you with everything he had, his breath somehow still so slow and controlled while you were falling apart above him.
he began to pick up his pace rapidly, relentlessly pounding up into you. your eyes stung with tears as he stretched you out so perfectly, pulling you down to meet each thrust just to push himself deeper inside of you.
“that’s it, baby. fuckin’ take it,” he gritted through his teeth, his voice strained and raw. “feel every inch of me. want you to remember exactly how it feels when i’m the one in charge.” smack. his hand landed heavy against your bottom, making the unshed tears gush down your cheeks as the pleasure became overwhelming.
he moaned loud and unapologetic at the feel of your cunt squeezing him. “you’re so tight,” he groaned, his cockiness returning full force. “you love this, don’t you pretty girl? you love it when i stop being all sweet and kind and just take what i need.”
you couldn’t even scream. the only sounds coming out were little broken whimpers and cries as he hit that certain spot over and over again while you clung helplessly to his shoulders. “oh! mmph! i’m sorry, stevie! fuck, i’m— i’m sorry! please! oh god, please!”
steve let out a low, triumphant sound, but he didn’t stop. instead, he slowed down just enough to let the friction build, his eyes hooded and shimmering with something you couldn’t make out. he leaned in, his lips grazing your jawline, but he didn’t kiss you. instead, he let out a quiet hum.
“what was that?” he mocked, his voice a teasing and arrogant purr. he leaned in further, letting his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. “i didn’t hear you, sweetheart. are you sorry for being a mean little brat to me? are you sorry for treating me like trash all day?”
he didn’t wait for an answer from you. he began to pull out, slowly, agonizingly, until he was almost completely gone, only to drive right back in with a devastating, slow-motion punch. he wasn’t just fucking you anymore, he was claiming you. pushing deep into your guts, forcing you to feel every single inch of his cock as he stretched you open.
“god, this pussy’s so tight, honey,” he groaned, his voice now a thick, sultry drawl. “so fuckin’ pretty. just look at how she’s gripping me… she’s practically begging for it.”
he gave you a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, making you gasp and arch into him as he stretched you wide. he sounded and looked completely enamored by your body, but his teasing edge still hadn’t left. it was a reminder that he knew exactly how much power he had over you in this moment.
“it’s such a shame, really,” he whispered, his voice dripping with mock sympathy and he stared at the way your lips stretched around him. “it’s too bad you’ve been such a brat today. truly a tragedy.”
his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt to hold you waist, pulling you even closer to him as his cock pulses inside your warmth. “i would’ve loved to get my mouth on her,” he purred, his voice suggestive and dangerous. “i would’ve spent hours between these pretty legs, eating you out, tasting every single inch of you until you were shaking and cryin’ for me. i would’ve made you lose your fuckin’ mind on my tongue.”
he felt your core clench around him desperately, a needy spasm at the mere thought, and he chuckled a dark, cocky sound.
“but since you wanted to be so mean to me?” he pulled out just enough to make you mewl before slamming back into you, a hard, sudden thrust that made your eyes roll back into your skull. “think i’ll just keep you stuffed full of me for the rest of the night instead. think you need to be reminded who you belong to.”
summary: When your boyfriend mindlessly suggests a threesome, you oblige. But who you have in mind sends him spiraling.
pairing: Steve x girlfriend!Reader x Eddie
word count: 3.1k
warnings: Explicit smut, mentions of alcohol and drug use, oral sex (f recieving), fingering, dirty talk, threesome, pearl necklacing, creampie
note: I have never written Eddie before🙈 ahhh
It started off as a simple question.
Laying in Steve’s bed, talking about random things, his hand in your underwear, nipping at your neck.
“Would you ever want to try and have a threesome?”
Given the circumstances, you had said yes without giving any thought to it…. Then one thing lead to another and you had forgot about his question entirely.
A week later, the consequences were knocking on his front door.
Well… you were knocking. Eddie Munson was standing slightly behind you, hood up, smirk already stretched wide as if he knew he was about to give Steve a stroke.
Steve opens the door mid sip of a beer… and chokes.
His eyes jump from you, to Eddie, back to you. He doesn’t say it out loud, but you know exactly what he’s thinking. Oh my god. You didn’t.
You breeze past him like nothing is weird at all.
“Happy Friday,” you sing, brushing a kiss over his cheek.
Eddie lifts a paper bag in greeting.
“Brought treats. Some of the green variety, some of the alcohol variety. Heard we were havin’ a night.”
Steve’s still frozen in the doorway and you tug him inside by his shirt, mouth close to his ear, whispering.
“Would you relax? He’s just here to hang out. To drink. To give us weed.”
You kiss the hinge of his jaw, “not what you think.”
Steve squints at you, whispering back, “This is exactly what I think. And this is not what I meant when I asked—”
“You were fingering me at the time,” you cut in softly, smiling, “you’re lucky I remembered the question at all.”
His face turns the color of a sunburn but you pull him toward the living room before he can protest, your fingers lacing with his, your grin smug.
The three of you end up on the couch: Steve in the middle, you on his right, Eddie sprawled on the left like he owns the place.
You curl against Steve, hand on his thigh.
He tries to play it cool, but every time Eddie speaks, Steve tenses… because Eddie keeps throwing you looks. Not subtle ones. Sultry, lingering ones.
You pass the joint around and Eddie’s fingers brush yours on purpose. Steve notices and his jaw ticks.
It only takes about ten minutes more before Eddie starts stirring shit.
“So,” he says lazily, eyes flicking between you and Steve, “what is the dynamic here? You two suddenly very quiet. Very… twitchy.”
He wiggles his finger at you both, like the weirdo he is. “Like there are secrets in the air.”
Steve nearly chokes on his own inhale and youjust smile. For someone who thinks Eddie is a loser freak, he sure is uneasy around him.
“Let’s play something,” you say sweetly.
Eddie lifts a brow, “like what? Poker? Strip poker? Because I could be convinced…”
“Tempting mmm, but no,” you cut in, “truth or dare.”
Steve turns his head slowly, eyes wide.
“Absolutely not.”
Eddie claps his hands together, “absolutely yes.”
You lean in, kiss Steve’s cheek again, voice soft.
“Just fun. Not sex.”
It’s a lie and everyone in the room knows it.
First round. Eddie points at you.
“Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” you say, smirking at Steve.
Eddie leans back, gaze heavy. “Kiss Harrington like you mean it.”
Steve’s eyes shut like he’s preparing for impact.
You climb into his lap, cupping his jaw, and kiss him slow and deep, tongue sliding into his mouth. His hands lock on your hips instantly, needy, protective, possessive.
When you finally pull away, he’s dazed.
Eddie whistles at you, “well, damn.”
You wipe your lips with your thumb and smile at Steve. His pupils are huge.
Next, your turn.
“Eddie,” you say, “truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
You grin wickedly.
“Tell us something you want to do tonight.”
Eddie doesn’t hesitate.
“I want to kiss you,” he says, looking right at you. Then he turns to Steve. “If your boy here can handle that.”
Steve’s breath hitches.
“Okay, wait, no, hold on—”
But you touch his thigh, grounding him.
“We don’t do anything he doesn’t want. Right, Eddie?”
Eddie nods, “scout’s honor.”
You turn to Steve, straddling him again.
Your fingers stroke the back of his neck, soft.
“You’re in charge,” you whisper, “we stop when you say stop.”
His chest rises sharply as he looks at you, then at Eddie, then back at you.
Something loosens in his expression…. fear melts into desire, into curiosity, into a slow, undeniable yes.
“…Fine,” he mutters, “but I’m not kissing Eddie.”
Eddie laughs, “that’s not on my bucket list either, man.”
Eddie leans forward, stops just shy of touching you.
“You’re sure sure?” he asks.
He’s giving Steve a chance to shut it down.
Steve doesn’t, so you lean in.
Eddie’s mouth is soft, surprisingly sweet from the beer, and he kisses you with a slow roll of his tongue, confident, teasing. His hand cups your jaw, tilting your head exactly where he wants it.
Steve’s breath stutters beside you.
You pull back slowly, eyes half lidded.
“Jesus,” Steve whispers.
Eddie grins at him kindly, “your girl’s a good kisser.”
Steve grabs the front of your shirt and pulls you into his kiss. It’s hard. It’s posseseive. Frustrated. Needy.
Eddie laughs under his breath and the tension of it all snaps like a string.
“Bed. Now,” Steve growls in your ear.
Eddie’s hand slide between your legs.
“Why bother?” he asks, voice wicked. “She’s already soaked.”
Steve shoves him… lightly, but territorial.
“You don’t get to fuck her on the couch, out in the open like she’s some—“
But Eddie cuts him off.
“Are you jealous?”
“Not even a little,” he lies.
You grab both their hands.
“Guys,” you breathe, “just take me to the bed.”
That does it.
Steve kisses you first… deep, messy, needy, while Eddie kneels behind him, pulling your clothes off like he’s been waiting his entire life for the excuse.
When they finally have you bare between them, Eddie whistles low.
“Fuck, Harrington. You’ve been hiding this?”
Steve shoots him a look, “Touch her without permission and see what happens.”
You tug Steve’s shirt and ya k him down.
“Steve,” you say, voice shaky, “please… stop talking and fuck me.”
Eddie chuckea.
“She’s bossier than I thought.”
“Shut up,” Steve snaps, but his eyes never leave your body.
Eddie’s behind you on the bed, mouth on your neck, hands on your waist.
Steve’s in front of you, shirt off, pupils blown, breathing like he’s losing his mind.
You’re sandwiched between them, Eddie’s chest against your back, Steve’s against your front.
Steve cups your tits from the front. Eddie’s hands slide down and squeeze your hips.
“You’re sure?” Steve asks, voice rough.
You thread your fingers into his hair.
“Yes.”
Eddie’s breath is hot against your ear.
“I think she was born for this,” he mutters.
A loud groan erupts from Steve’s chest. .
Eddie’s hand slides between your thighs from behind, fingers stroking you slow and teasing.
You gasp into Steve’s mouth, gripping his shoulders.
Steve watches Eddie’s fingers disappear between your leg, his expression a mix of jealousy, fascination, and raw desire.
“She’s so wet already,” Eddie says, “lucky bastard you are.”
Steve swallows hard.
“Let me… fuck, let me touch her.”
Eddie pulls back instantly, letting Steve replace his hand.
You moan into Steve’s touch, his fingers knowing you better, moving with intent, curling exactly how he knows drives you insane.
Eddie watches.
His hands roam your sides, your hips, your thighs, squeezing, exploring.
“Christ,” Eddie whispers, “I knew you two were freaks.”
Steve doesn’t even bite back.
He’s too busy kissing you, stroking you, trying not to lose it while Eddie grinds against your backside.
Eddie shifts, guiding you to lean back against his chest.
Steve kneels between your legs on the couch cushions, eyes locked on you like you’re the only thing in existence.
“Take your shirt off,” Eddie murmurs into your ear.
You do and Steve moans again.
Eddie’s hands come around to cup your boobs, thumbs stroking your nipples while Steve’s fingers slide inside you again.
You gasp loudly and Steve leans in and licks a slow stripe up your inner thigh.
Eddie’s grip on your chest tightens.
“You’re killing him,” Eddie murmurs against your skin, “y’know that?”
Steve looks up, lips swollen.
“Move your hands,” he says, and Eddie obliges.
Steve replaces them with his mouth.
You arch, crying out, head falling against Eddie’s shoulder as he keeps your thighs spread for Steve, watching every second with dark, hungry eyes.
“That’s it,” Eddie whispers, “let him make you fall apart.”
and so you do, hard. Shaking, gasping, fingers digging into both of them.
When you come back down, Steve wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, chest heaving.
Eddie lifts your chin and kisses you slow.
“Taste yourself,” he murmurs.
Steve makes a broken sound.
And then it all dissolves into heat and mouths and
Steve is still kneeling between your thighs, breath hot against your skin, your release shining on his mouth. Eddie’s behind you, legs bracketing yours, his body a hot, solid wall at your back. You’re still trembling, thighs tight, chest rising too fast.
And both of them are looking at you like they want to ruin you. Steve wipes his mouth again but his fingers dig into your hips, hungry.
Eddie’s lips drag down your neck, agonizingly slow.
“Switch her around,” Eddie murmurs, voice thick.
“Wanna see her face when you put your dick in her.”
Steve practically drags you forward, strong hands guiding you onto your knees on the couch cushions. Eddie shifts behind, letting you lean on his chest as he pulls your hair off your shoulders.
Steve’s already unbuttoning his jeans with shaking fingers and your mouth goes dry.
He’s flushed, breathing hard, cock thick and heavy and painfully hard as it springs free.
He strokes himself once, gaze locked on you, no teasing now, no hesitation. Just raw need.
“Come here,” he says, voice shaky.
Eddie nudges you, “go on, sweetheart. Don’t make him beg.”
You crawl forward, settling on your elbows, ass still pressed back into Eddie’s lap. Steve pulls you forward onto your knees, guiding you exactly where he wants you.
Eddie moves with you, a shadow at your back, palms dragging down your sides like he’s mapping you for later. He palms your ass cheeks, spreading you a little, just to watch Steve’s pupils blow even wider.
Steve groans, low and desperate.
“Jesus Christ, Eddie, don’t, fuck…”
Eddie laughs softly and grips your hips, holding you steady like a goddamn offering.
Steve lines himself up, the head of his cock sliding through your slick folds, teasing, gathering everything he pulled out of you a minute ago. You moan, pushing back, needy and open.
Steve’s voice cracks.
“Do not do that unless you want me to cum in two seconds.”
Eddie smirks into your skin.
“She wants you to, look at her.”
Steve does and you watch his face fall apart.
He pushes into you, slow but deep, your breath shatters and a broken moan falls out of you. You grip his wrists, nails digging in.
“Oh my god, Steve!”
He fucks the last inch into you and shudders.
“Fuck, baby… you feel so good. I forgot, I always forget… fuck, how tight—”
Eddie’s mouth shuts him up.
“Quit talking and move your hips, Harrington.”
Steve pulls back, then thrusts forward, hard.
Your head drops back onto Eddie’s shoulder as a sharp cry leaves you. Eddie slides a hand to your throat, holding you upright as Steve starts working up a rhythm, hips snapping, breath stuttering with every thrust.
Your whole body jolts with each movement and Eddie groans behind you.
“You hear that? She’s dripping, making a mess on your cock already.”
Your cheeks burn and Steve’s eyes roll a little.
“Yeah, I, shit… yeah, I hear it.”
Eddie slides his free hand down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight fast circles that make your legs shake violently.
Your body isn’t even yours anymore—you move because they guide you, push you, steady you. Steve pulls you down into his rhythm, Eddie’s hands keep you open, balanced, overwhelmed.
You’re dizzy from it: two sets of hands on you, two voices in your ear, two sets of eyes devouring you.
“Come on,” Eddie murmurs into your ear, “give him another one.”
You choke out a moan, hips jerking helplessly between the two of them.
Steve’s voice is barely a sound now.
“Eddie… stop! She’s, she’s gonna…. if you keep, oh fuck”
“Good,” Eddie growls, “that’s the point.”
Your orgasm hits like a punch. Sharp, overwhelming, your body locking up as you cry out between them.
Steve grasps your hips hard enough to bruise as you clench around him, squeezing him so tight he swears loudly and drops his forehead to your shoulder.
“Holy shit, oh fuck, fuck!”
Your vision goes white for a moment and , Eddie kisses your cheek, then your jaw.
“Good girl.”
Steve’s still buried inside you, shaking.
He pulls out slowly, trying to catch his breath.
Eddie slides his hands along your waist and lifts you back into his lap, settling you against his chest. You feel him: hard and thick, pressed against the curve of your ass.
He whispers against your ear, low and dark:
“My turn.”
Steve sits back on his heels, dazed, hair messy, lips parted.He watches as Eddie unzips his jeans behind you, freeing himself.
Steve’s voice cracks:
“Wait, new rule,” he interjects.
“No rules,” Eddie replies, “not tonight.”
He swallows hard.
“You’re gonna…?”
Eddie smirks.
“Only if she says yes.”
Both men look at you.
You’re breathless, pupils blown, body already arching back into Eddie’s touch.
“Yes,” you whisper, please..”
Steve groans like he’s about to lose his mind.
Eddie kisses your shoulder, guiding you forward onto your hands while he positions himself behind you, head of his cock sliding through your slick, teasing you open again.
You glance at Steve, he’s stroking himself slowly, watching every second, chest rising fast.
Eddie pushes into you. Deeper, thicker, stretching you until your voice catches and your arms tremble.
“That’s it,” he rasps, gripping your hips, “take all of me. Just like that.”
Steve swears under his breath, eyes locked on the spot where Eddie disappears inside you.
Eddie starts thrusting, slow at first, then harder, snapping your body forward until you’re moaning into your own arms, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. His hand slides up your back, between your shoulder blades, pressing you down gently so he can fuck into you deeper.
“Christ, Eddie,” Steve groans.
“Slow down, she’s…. fuck.”
“She’s fine,” Eddie pants, “aren’t you, sweetheart?”
You manage a broken, “Yes, God yes… don’t stop!”
Steve shudders, stroking faster now.
Steve moves in front of you again, watching every inch of how Eddie handles you, every sound you make. He’s jealous, painfully so, but he can’t look away.
“Steve,” you breathe, reaching for him.
He takes your face in both hands and kisses you again, slower this time but deeper, dirtier. A kiss that says mine even as Eddie’s grip tightens behind you.
Eddie mutters against your shoulder, amused and low,
“Christ, Harrington. You’re feral.”
The way Steve looks at you, at Eddie’s hands on you, at the marks on your throat, his cock sliding in and out of you, he just about is.
Eddie grabs your hair, pulls your head back so you’re arched and open while he pounds into you, every thrust hitting so deep your vision blurs. You cry out, and Steve makes a strangled sound, his fist tightening around himself.
“Switch,” Steve gasps suddenly, voice desperate.
“I… I want, Jesus… I want to feel her again.”
Eddie laughs breathlessly and slows, hips grinding into you once more before pulling out.
You collapse forward with a gasp.
Steve is on you in a second, rolling you onto your back, kissing you hard, lifting your thighs over his hips as he pushes back inside you in one long, perfect stroke.
And you shamelessly scream his name. Eddie kneels beside you, stroking your cheek with inked fingers.
“Open your mouth.”
He slides his thumb inside, watching your lips wrap around it as Steve fucks you deeper and deeper, lifting your hips to meet every thrust.
Your moans are muffled around Eddie’s thumb as your thighs shake uncontrollably.
Steve is losing control fast, voice breaking:
“I’m gonna, oh fuck, Eddie, hold her….”
Eddie braces your shoulder with one hand and your thigh with the other, keeping you open for Steve as he slams into you harder, faster, breath feral.
You choke on a sob as another orgasm rips through you, shaking violently.
Steve follows immediately, burying himself deep, groaning your name into your neck as he spills inside you, grip shaking.
Eddie groans at the sight of it, rubbing himself once, twice—
—and then he shudders and cums across your chest, eyes locked on yours in a daze.
Silence.
Just breathing.
Just bodies trembling together.
The room feels too quiet after all that noise. Your breathing, their groans, the couch protesting against all three of you. When everything goes still, you’re the first to notice your legs shaking.
Steve notices next.
“Hey—” his voice is soft, wrecked, warm, “—don’t move yet. Just breathe.”
You try to sit up, but your limbs feel boneless. Eddie huffs a laugh behind you.
“She’s done for,” he says, wiping sweat from his forehead with his wrist. “Completely destroyed. Harrington, we’re carrying her to the shower.”
Steve shoots him a look. “You are not carrying her anywhere. I’ve got her.”
He slips an arm around your back, lifting you carefully, gentle in the way he only is when he’s worried he pushed you too far.
The messy evidence of all three of you is smeared across your thighs, your stomach, the sheets. Eddie whistles low at the sight.
“Well,” Eddie says, hands on his hips, “that is… a lot to clean.”
Steve mutters, “You don’t say.”
He disappears for a moment and comes back with warm, damp towels. The first touch of the heat against your skin makes your breath hitch—but it’s not sexual now. Just soft. Tender. Steve wipes you down with slow, patient strokes, murmuring small apologies when you flinch from overstimulation.
Eddie kneels beside the couch, taking over when Steve’s hands start shaking from adrenaline crash.
His touch is surprisingly careful, almost reverent.
“No offense, but you look like you got hit by a truck,” Eddie mutters, but there’s no teasing in his tone.
You lean into both of them because it feels safe.
When you’re clean enough to move, Steve wraps you in one of his big shirts, lifting it over your head and smoothing it down your hips.
He presses a kiss to your temple.
“You okay, honey?”
You nod into his chest, “perfect.”
Eddie stands, cracking his back dramatically.
“Alright, lovers. Cigarette time.”
As Eddie heads toward the door you mouth over to Steve, “I love you.”
Vampire! Eddie Munson x Werewolf! Steve Harrington x Fem! Librarian! Reader
Summary: Eddie is back in the dreary town of Hawkins, struggling to exist as an immoral and regretful of pushing everyone from his life, especially you. Secrets begin to unravel, natural rivals struggle to co-exist, and you're stuck in the middle of Munson and Harrington.
Warning: 18+, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Slow Burn, Best Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Love Triangle, Throuple, Sexual Awakenings, Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Topics of Suicide and Mortality, Inspired By Twilight and The Lost Boys.
Airwiy Steve all snuggled up with his honey waking up mid wet dream
Airwiy Steve MORNING WOOD🗣️
Airwiy Steve’s cock twitching bc the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is that fat engagement ring glinting in the morning sun
(I’m screaming and running in circles over this, figured I’d drag you down with me 💞💞)
I’ve been dragged so far down from this ask that I had to write a blurb. Thank you for this, it’s all I think about now.
wc: 1.2k
warnings: 18+, age gap (steve is in his 40’s) slight somno, breeding kink, cream pie, morning wood baby.
The sun isn’t what wakes you up through the cracks of your poor excuse for blinds, it’s the warmth of the man wrapped around you from behind. Steve holds you close with an arm snaked tight around your waist despite the steady breathing from his hiding place in the crook of your neck. The soft patch of hair on his chest tickles your bare back pressed snug against him, and you still can’t believe this is the way you start your days now.
It’s been three weeks of dating Steve, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to this. Especially what pokes the small of your back, or the way it stretches you out in a way you didn’t think was possible. Your hips shift on their own, letting the hard length of fit between the apple of your ass only covered by a thin pair of cotton panties.
The immediate flutter in your stomach at the feeling of him so close has your teeth digging into the fat of your bottom lip. Wiggling your hips again, he slides between your thighs, the tip of him tapping against your already swollen clit. A quiet moan slips from between your lips at the feeling, your body begging for more.
Steve’s grip on you tightens, his breathing coming out quick and sporadic. The blunt ends of his nails dig into the soft fat of your sides, grunting as he meets the next roll of your hips.
“Honey.” He murmurs, voice still thick with sleep, nudging the back of your ear with the tip of his nose.
“Good morning.” You whisper with a hidden smile, spreading your legs a little more, whimpering when his already leaking tip pushes your panties to the side for a fleeting moment.
“Fuck.” The word comes out of his mouth in a hiss, his hips searching for that angle again.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing this early, tough girl? hmm?” He chides, gripping your curves holding you in place, doing it with more force this time.
His name slips breathy from your lips, your leg hitching over his hip, giving him full access to you.
“So needy already.” He murmurs a little cocky in your ear, using the length of himself to push your panties to the side, groaning at what he finds. “So wet.”
“Want you.” Pushing your hips back with a whine, you relish in the way the tip of his cock starts to split you open.
“Always want you, baby.” He hums, reaching up to cup your breast in the palm of his hand, fitting himself half way in.
Your walls are greedy, sucking him in the rest of the way, and with a slow grind of your hips, he bottoms out. A string of curse words are whispered along the curve of your neck, followed by a sharp nip of his teeth.
“Oh my god.” Tilting your head back in a loud moan, he takes full advantage of the newly exposed skin.
His fingers pinch at your sensitive nipples standing at attention for him. Littering open mouthed kisses up to the soft spot behind your ear, he sucks hard enough for you to shiver. Steve sets a slow pace, pulling himself almost all the way out letting you feel every inch and ridge of him before snapping his hips, burying himself to the hilt.
The sound of his name, followed by short gasps every time he pushes the air out of your lungs fills the empty space of your apartment. He feels bigger in the morning, the stretch of him rolling your eyes in the back of your head with every thrust. The blunt ends of your fingernails dig into the tanned freckled skin of his forearm, finding the strength to meet the quick roll of his hips.
It should feel impossible to want more, but it’s all your body screams for. As if he can read your mind, his long lingers find their way to your clit begging for his attention. Using the pad of two fingers, he rubs quick circles on the bundle of nerves, earning such a loud moan of his name he thinks your neighbors heard. So he keeps it up, needing them to know who’s making you feel this good.
“Gonna cum for me, tough girl? Gonna give me what I want?” He whispers against your ear before taking the lobe of it in the heat of his mouth.
Jaw going slack, all you can do it nod, the tightening flutter of your walls telling him you’re close.
“I can feel it, you’re gonna make me cum too. Want that?” He adds a third finger to your pulsing clit, hips setting a punishing pace.
“Steve — god — I want it.” You whimper, trying to chase the high that’s on the cusp of breaking you into a million pieces.
“Where? Where do you want it, honey?” he grunts, his body surrounding you, losing himself in the feeling of your silk.
“I-inside.”
His hips stutter at your words, a deep growl rumbling from his chest sending another wave of arousal coating him. You’d be embarrassed at the sounds of just how wet you are if he wasn’t claiming you like a man possessed.
“I’m gonna —“ the second half of your sentence dies on the tip of your tongue for a moment when he keeps himself deep, grinding on that spot only he can find. “Steve, I'm — I’m gonna cum.”
“Do it with me.” He moans, twitching inside of you, letting you know he’s just as close.
All you can manage is a nod, pressing your ass as tight against him as possible, pushing him impossibly deeper, snapping that tight rope in your gut sending you tumbling over the edge.
“That’s it baby, you’re so good, so good for me.” He says the last part through gritted teeth.
A guttural moan rips from his throat spilling himself inside of you, filling you to the brim. He keeps pumping his hips like he’s trying to make sure none of it escapes moaning ‘mine’ over again turning possessive.
He doesn’t stop, until he physically has nothing left to give, wrapping your limp body in his arms, slipping out of your walls that beg him to stay. The two of you lay there trying to catch your breath, a small giggle escaping from between your lips.
“What?” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple.
“Good morning.” You smile snuggling yourself deeper into his chest, basking in the feeling of him dripping out of you and onto the sheets.
“Best morning.” Nipping at your shoulder, he presses a grin against your skin, salt and pepper scruff ticking your cheek.
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