I’m going to try to cover lots of different dynamics and situations in this series. I may even write different variations for some characters. If there’s something specific you want to see, let me know! My banner as usual is made by the incredible @punkrockmlchael ᡣ𐭩
Two can play (but three's more fun) | Steve Harrington x reader x Eddie Munson
stranger things masterlist / inbox
summary: when Steve catches Eddie staring a little too long at his girlfriend, he doesn’t throw a punch—he extends an invitation. And as Eddie quickly learns, Steve doesn’t just share; he teaches, with slow, filthy demonstrations.
word count: 5.2k
tags / content warnings: smut, just pure filth really, posessive steve, desperate eddie, a lot of swearing, I couldn't help it, maybe some repetitive words but smut vocabulary just has it's limits
a/n: I got insanely stoned and wrote this so if it came out too horny i'm sorry, also im ovulating oops. I've prolly been very inconsistent with grammar tenses but I can't be bothered to check it. I usually correct my grammar after i've already posted so the masterlist link has significantly less errors than earlier versions
The living room was bathed in the flickering glow of the TV, some forgotten horror movie playing on low volume—The Thing, maybe, or was it Halloween?—its eerie soundtrack warping under the weight of the thick, sweet-smelling haze curling through the air.
Eddie had outdone himself with this new strain, something sticky and potent that left his limbs heavy and his usual sharp edges dulled into something languid and warm, his thoughts perhaps a bit too syrupy.
“—I know I talk a big game, man, but fuck. I have no clue what I’m doing when it actually comes down to it.”
His voice was a low mumble, words slipping out like he hadn’t meant to say them at all. He tipped his head back against the couch cushions, staring at the ceiling as if it might hold answers.
Steve blinks at him, slow and rhythmically, before snorting. “What, like… at all?”
“Yeah, man. Like—” Eddie waves a hand vaguely, the silver of his rings glinting as he moves. “How the fuck am I supposed to know what sounds are real and which ones are fake? It’s fucking Russian roulette.”
The next reaction from Steve is immediate, no hesitation. Just a lazy, knowing smirk as he stretches his arms behind his head. “Huh. Well, once you know the difference, it becomes pretty obvious.” He pauses, just long enough to take a quick glance over Eddie’s face. “If you really need some pointers, I can ask my girlfriend if she wants to help you out.”
Eddie nearly comes crashing to the fucking floor.
Because fuck. He’s had a crush on you for, like, forever. Not that he’s ever admitted it out loud — not when Steve Harrington has a reputation for rearranging the faces of guys who so much as look at you wrong. Eddie has seen it happen: some poor asshole at a party, fingers skimming your ass as you passed, and bam — Steve’s fist in his jaw before anyone could blink. There’s even a rumour some other idiot once stared just a little too long at the way your lips wrapped around the neck of your beer bottle and then slurred, “Wanna spin the bottle?” Word is, Steve dropped him in one hit. No warning. No theatrics. Just pure, primal instinct.
So yeah, Eddie’s kept his mouth shut.
But now? Now Steve is watching him with this lazy, half-lidded expression, like he hadn’t just detonated a goddamn bomb in Eddie’s head.
“You’re fucking with me.” Eddie pleads, his voice rough.
Steve just grins — slow, deliberate — his eyes dark with something Eddie can't name. “Nah, man. She’s actually really into that kinda stuff.” His voice drops, gravel scraping over each word, and Eddie’s stomach flips “And I’d do anything for her.”
The air feels thick as Eddie’s pulse roars in his ears, his throat suddenly bone-dry. Was this a test? A trap? Christ. Harrington was going to be the death of him, and worse—Eddie knew he’d fucking thank him for it.
His fingers twitch at his sides. “...Yeah?”
Steve’s smile only widens, but his eyes soften. “Yeah.”
When Eddie shows up at your place the next night, he’s strung tight enough to power Hawkins twice over, his pulse hammering in his throat. He’s spent the last twenty-four hours convincing himself he’d imagined the whole conversation, that there was no way Steve Harrington just offered—
And then you open the door.
Dressed in nothing but one of Steve’s old band tees, the fabric riding high on your thighs, you greet him with a smile that damn near stops his heart. “Hey, Eddie.”
His mouth goes dry. And before he can choke out a response, Steve is behind you, hands sliding possessively around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. And then — Jesus Christ.
The kiss Steve gives you isn’t just heated — it’s filthy. All tongue and teeth, your fingers twisting in his hair as he backs you against the doorframe, his hands already under your shirt like it’s a regular Tuesday afternoon.
Eddie’s knees nearly give out.
“Watch,” Steve murmurs against your lips when he finally breaks away, his gaze flicking to Eddie over your shoulder. His voice dark and commanding. “And pay attention.”
Then, right there in the doorway, Steve pulls the shirt over your head — meticulously slow, like he wants Eddie to memorise every second. And, well — Eddie does.
He memorises the way your breath hitches when Steve’s fingers brush over your ribs, the way you arch into his touch, the soft, real sounds spilling from your lips as Steve’s mouth finds the top of your breasts—
Eddie’s throat protests as he swallows, fingers twitching at his sides like he can’t decide whether to bolt or drop to his knees.
Steve notices —of course he does— and his lips curl into something dangerously close to a challenge. “You just going to stand there, Munson?” His hands slide down your hips, squeezing just hard enough to make you softly gasp. “Thought you wanted to learn.” Eddie manages to get control over his brain just long enough to answer “I— Yeah. Fuck. Yeah. I do.”
Steve hums, pleased, and spins you around to face Eddie fully, his palm splayed possessively over your stomach. “Then get over here.”
It’s not a request.
Eddie moves like a man in a trance, close enough now to feel the heat of your skin, to catch the intoxicating scent of your perfume. His gaze darts between your face and Steve’s fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over your collarbone.
“First lesson,” Steve murmurs, leaning in to nip at your earlobe. “Don’t just touch. Listen.” His free hand reaches out, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and dragging it toward you. “Feel how she reacts.”
Eddie’s fingertips brush your waist—hesitant at first, then firmer when you shiver under his touch. His breath hitches as you lean into him, lashes fluttering when his thumb grazes the delicate curve of your ribs.
“Good.” Steve’s voice is low, eyes locked on Eddie’s every twitch. “Now kiss her.”
Eddie’s head jerks up. “What?”
Steve’s grin is all teeth. “Unless you don’t—”
“No, I—fuck.” He surges forward, crashing his mouth against yours like a man starved. It’s messy and desperate, and he barely gets a taste before Steve yanks you back by the waist, eyebrows furrowed in disapproval.
“Jesus Christ. Not like that.”
Eddie stumbles after you as Steve kicks the door shut behind them. “It’s like you were raised by wolves.”
Eddie opens his mouth to protest—then snaps it shut. Because Steve’s right. He’s a wreck.
“What are you waiting for, a written invitation?” Steve’s voice is rough with impatience. “Kiss her again.”
Eddie hesitates—just for a second—before lust wins the war. This time, when his lips find yours, it’s still hungry, but it’s also aware, his movements more controlled. For a heartbeat, he’s terrified Steve will deem him unworthy of you altogether and kick him back to the curb—until you moan into it, until your fists twist in his shirt and drag him closer.
Steve groans in approval against your shoulder. “That’s it,” he rasps, pressing you forward just enough that Eddie can feel your heartbeat against his chest. “Now slow down. Make her want it.”
Eddie whimpers, but obeys, pulling back just enough to tease your lower lip between his teeth before licking into your mouth like you’re water and he’s been dying of thirst.
The sound you make — the soft, wanting whine—it's the hottest thing he’s ever heard. Steve pulls you back again, but this time, there’s satisfaction in his grin. “See?” His thumb swipes over your kiss-swollen lips, smug. “She likes it when you take your time.”
Steve doesn’t let go of you—not really. Even as he nudges you toward the couch, his palm stays glued to the small of your back, steering you like he owns every inch of space you move through. Eddie doesn’t need to be told to follow; his pulse hammers in his throat, fingers flexing like he’s already imagining the weight of you beneath them.
“Sit.” Steve’s order cracks through the air, and Eddie drops onto an armchair like his strings have been cut.
You don’t get the chance to join him. Steve catches your wrist, yanking you back against his chest instead. His mouth brushes your ear, voice a low, possessive hum: “Nah, sweetheart. You’re staying right here.” His fingers trail down your arm before guiding your hand to Eddie’s jaw. “Let him earn it.”
Eddie’s breath stutters. Christ. Up close, you’re devastating. The way your eyes shimmer with pure lust, the way your lips part—just slightly—when Steve’s fingers skim over the lace of your bra. The syrupy moan you let out when he pinches your nipple over it, just enough to make your back arch—
“See that?” Steve’s voice is rough against your ear. “She gets loud when she’s turned on. You just have to know how to listen.” Eddie nods, swallowing hard. His hands hover over your hips like he’s afraid you’ll dissolve under his touch. Steve rolls his eyes.
“Jesus, Munson. You’re not going to break her.” He grabs Eddie’s wrist, pressing his palm flat against your stomach. “Feel how warm she is? How fucking desperate?”
Eddie’s fingers twitch. He can feel it—the rapid rise and fall of your breath, the way your skin burns under his touch.
“Now”, Steve murmurs, lips grazing your shoulder, “show me what you’ve learned.”
Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice.
This time, when he kisses you, it’s relaxed—calculated. He licks into your mouth like he’s savouring it, one hand sliding up your ribs while the other tangles in your hair. And when you moan, when your hips jerk forward like you just can’t help it, Eddie groans against your lips like he’s just discovered fucking religion.
Steve watches, eyes dark with approval. “Better,” he rasps. Then, with a smirk: “Now get on your knees.”
Eddie freezes, and Steve arches a brow,“got a problem?”
“No—fuck, no.” Eddie’s already sliding to the floor, knees hitting the carpet with a thud. His hands find your thighs, gripping just tight enough to feel the muscle tense under his fingers.
Steve’s smirk widens. “Good.”
The praise goes straight to Eddie’s dick.
You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him gasp—and God, Eddie’s never been so hard in his life.
Steve’s voice is a murmur as he trails a path down your throat, bruises already blooming under his mouth. “Now, make her beg.”
Eddie’s breathing is ragged as he looks up at you—fuck, the way your pupils are blown wide, the way your chest rises with every shaky inhale. Steve’s fingers are still tangled in your hair, his thumb brushing a stray strand behind your ear with a tenderness that feels domestic. Your eyes meet Eddie’s just before they flutter shut, and it’s all the permission he needs. His mouth finds the inside of your knee first, lips dragging slow and hot up your skin, teeth grazing just enough to make you squirm. Steve hums, tracing your ribs and sliding your bra strap down your shoulder. His palm cups your breast as it spills free, kneading with a lazy possessiveness that has your hips jerking forward — but Eddie holds you steady, determined.
His tongue traces past the waistband of your panties like he’s trying to memorise the shape of you, and when his eyes flick up to Steve, all he finds is lust, raw and unfiltered. So Eddie hooks his fingers into the fabric and pulls, dragging it down your legs as he kisses a trail after it, reverent even in his hunger. His fingers work you with surprising precision, his gaze desperate for approval — and when he curls them just right, you gasp, arching into his touch with a moan loud enough to make Steve’s smirk falter. He wasn’t expecting that.
The slip in Steve’s control sends a thrill through Eddie, and he murmurs against your thigh, voice rough: “You sound so fucking sweet — bet you taste even better.” Steve’s grip tightens on your hip, hard enough to bruise, but you don’t seem to mind.
He’d meant to teach. Now, he’s learning.
And the way you’re unravelling under Eddie’s touch stirs something awake inside of him. Eddie’s got a musician’s dexterity, his fingers able to coax sinful melodies from you with every twist. When you whimper Eddie’s name, Steve’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t stop him. Just watches with a gaze darker than the midnight sky itself as Eddie’s breath ghosts over you, your thighs trembling. “Please—”
The word barely leaves your lips before Eddie adds another finger, crooking them until your thighs squeeze around his wrist. He groans against your skin, resting his forehead against your leg as the vibration tears another broken sound from your throat. He fucks you with his fingers — slow and deep, then fast and relentless, like he can’t decide whether to savour you or ruin you.
Eddie, drunk on your praise, dares to glance up at Steve with a smirk. Steve’s nostrils flare, but instead of shutting him down, he drags a thumb over your cheek and growls, “You gonna cum for him?” You can’t even answer. Your back arches, toes curling, and Eddie drinks it in like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. The moment you shatter, he loses it. He’s not sure what destroys him more — the way you choke out his name, begging him not to stop, or the filthy, approving rumble of Steve’s voice as he speaks, “Good girl.”
Eddie finds himself at an impasse, torn between begging for more and staying silent as the two of you decide his fate. His fingers twitch where they grip your thighs, his breath ragged, his entire body coiled tight with anticipation—and fear. Steve detaches himself from nipping at your collarbone when Eddie wavers, his movements faltering. A reprimand flashes in Steve’s darkened gaze, sharp enough to make Eddie shudder again. “Didn’t you hear her, Munson?” Steve’s voice is a low, warning growl. “She told you not to stop.”
But Eddie freezes. The reality of where he is—what he’s doing—hits him like a freight train. He has no idea how to continue.
But Steve doesn’t tolerate hesitation. His hand fists in Eddie’s hair, yanking him forward with a rough, “Stop thinking.”
Eddie obeys like a man possessed, and the moment his tongue drags over you, his whole body jerks—holy shit. You taste even better than he could’ve dared to dream. Sweet, addictive, and the way you gasp when he flicks his tongue over your clit? He’s ruined. Forever.
Drunk on you—on the way your fingers tighten in his hair, the way you’re so wet it’s coating your thighs—he laps at you like his life depends on it. Steve watches with drowsy satisfaction, his palm sliding possessively up your stomach to cup your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple just to hear you whimper for him again.
“Listen to how she sounds when you do it right,” Steve murmurs, voice thick with contentment. “Isn’t it the most beautiful sound in the world?” He doesn’t wait for Eddie to answer. Instead, he tilts your jaw toward him, locking you in a searing kiss. You moan into Steve’s mouth as Eddie continues, his tongue relentless, his own desperate noises vibrating against you. Steve chuckles darkly when Eddie whimpers, his cock straining against his jeans just from tasting you. He hasn’t even touched himself, but he’s so close he’s shaking.
“Are you going to come just from this, Munson?” Steve drags him off you by his hair, grinning at the dazed, wrecked look on Eddie’s face. “Fuck, look at him, darling. He’s a mess.” Eddie’s lips are slick, his chest heaving, his pupils blown so wide his eyes look black. Steve doesn’t give him a chance to recover. He pushes Eddie back into the armchair, his grip firm, dominant. Then he guides you onto the couch with a smirk.
“You did good,” he tells Eddie, voice dripping with condescension. “Now let me show you great.”
Steve doesn’t waste time. In one smooth motion, he hooks his hands under your knees, spreading you wide —putting you on display— before dragging you to the edge of the couch. His gaze locks onto Eddie’s, making sure he’s watching as he leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, a shudder running through you at the sensation. “See how she shivers?” Steve murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, laced with something Eddie can only describe as devotion. “It’s because she knows what’s coming—” Then he devours you.
Unlike Eddie’s frantic, eager strokes, Steve’s tongue moves with precision — deliberate, decisive licks that have you arching off the couch within seconds. He teases you, circling your clit until you’re gasping, then he pulls back with a cruel smirk.
“Steve—” you whine, fingers scrambling at his hair. “Patience, sweetheart,” he muses — before sucking your clit between his lips, hard. Your cry echoes through the room, and Eddie’s hands clench into fists, his hips jerking helplessly as you overwhelm his senses without even touching him. Steve doesn’t let up; he works you with his mouth until your thighs tremble, until your moans grow longer and heavy, until you’re right there—, and he pulls away.
“No, no, baby, please—” you beg, but Steve just clicks his tongue, amused, sliding two fingers into you without warning. “Look at her, Munson,” he orders, curling his fingers just right, making you sob beneath him. “This is how you give her what she deserves.” His thrusts are ruthless, his palm grinding against your clit with every movement. You’re a writhing, whimpering mess, your nails digging into Steve’s shoulders as he fucks you on his fingers, his eyes locked onto Eddie’s the entire time.
“She’s close,” Steve taunts — he doesn’t even need to look at you to know, too busy watching the way Eddie’s jaw clenches. “You want to see what happens when she comes on my hand?” Eddie can’t even speak. He just nods, frantic. Steve smiles wickedly and makes do with the response. “Then watch closely.”
He crooks his fingers again, pressing deeper, and you don’t just shatter — you explode. Your back bows like you’re possessed, broken screams tearing from your throat as you squirt, and Eddie swears he’s seeing stars. Your hand finds Steve’s bicep, clinging desperately, like you’re afraid he’ll stop. Eddie can’t look away; he doesn’t dare blink — if he misses a single second of this, he’ll never forgive himself.
Steve works you through it, drawing out every last spasm until tears streak your face, until you’re oversensitive, trying to squirm away. Only then does he finally relent, licking his fingers with a satisfied hum before brushing featherlight kisses up to your neck. The moment you feel his proximity, you meet him in a kiss — not heated like before, but purposeful, delicate, like Steve is guiding you back to reality with it. He doesn’t rush you; he just lets your fingers weave through his hair until your breathing steadies. Then, he speaks again. “That”, he says, “is how it’s done.” He meets Eddie’s stunned gaze. “You shouldn’t even be thinking about getting your dick wet until she’s clenching around nothing.”
Eddie’s so hard it hurts. His cock throbs against his jeans, neglected and aching, precum soaking the fabric. He’s never been this turned on in his life—and the worst part? Steve knows it. The bastard smirks, dragging a thumb over your lower lip. You suck it in eagerly, tongue swirling, before he pulls away and stands. It’s a fucking performance. Steve undoes his belt like he’s savouring the way Eddie’s eyes cling to his hands, the leather slipping free with a final, damning shush. You whimper, still boneless from your orgasm, but your eyes flutter open when Steve’s palm slides up your thigh, squeezing. “Please, Steve?” you breathe, and his grin turns feral. “Not yet, love.” He glances at Eddie, whose throat bobs under the weight of his stare. “Munson hasn’t earned it yet.”
Eddie’s stomach drops. Fuck. He’s dripping in his pants, his hips twitching like a fucking teenager, and Steve’s going to make him wait? But then—
Steve grips Eddie’s chin, forcing his gaze up. “You want her?” he asks, voice rough. Eddie nods, greedy. “Then prove you can take care of her.” And just like that, Steve shoves him onto the couch with you. “Do it like I showed you.”
For a heartbeat, Eddie can only stare—at the way your breath hitches when he touches you, at the way your eyes lock on Steve, who’s sprawled in the armchair like it’s a fucking throne, lazily stroking his cock. Your lips part, and Eddie swears he sees your mouth water—fuck, it’s obscene. His hands tremble as he touches you—really touches you—this time. His mouth finds your thigh, kissing up the sensitive skin, trying to mimic the way Steve had worshipped you earlier. But when his tongue drags over you, your breath catches—wrong—and Steve’s low chuckle cuts through the room like a knife.
“Christ, Munson,” Steve sighs, his grip tightening around his cock. “You’re thinking too hard.”
Eddie grits his teeth. He is. He’s thinking about the way Steve had made you scream, the way your back arched off the couch like you were trying to fuse into him. He’s thinking about the fact that Steve’s watching, lazily stroking himself while Eddie fumbles like a virgin.
And the nail in the coffin? You’re watching Steve too. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes heavy with desire—but not for Eddie.
“Fuck,” Eddie rasps, pulling back. His voice is wrecked.“I can’t—I don’t—” Steve leans forward, fingertips ghosting over your throat as you keen toward him. “You can,” he growls. “Stop trying to perform. Just feel her.”
Eddie’s breath comes in sharp bursts. This time, when his mouth finds your cunt, he doesn’t think. He listens. To the way your breath catches when he licks a slow, experimental stripe. To the way your hips jerk when he sucks just there. And when your fingers fist in his hair—finally—it’s not to guide him, but to hold on.
“There,” Steve murmurs, voice thick with approval. “Now you’re getting it.” Eddie moans against you, the vibration pulling a whimper from your throat. Fuck. He’s dizzy with it—the taste of you, the sounds you’re making, the way Steve’s gaze burns into him like a brand.
But then Steve stands. Eddie barely has time to register the loss before Steve’s dragging him up by the collar, spinning him around to face you—really face you. Your lips are swollen, your chest heaving, your thighs slick with Steve’s work.
"Look at her," Steve growls, his voice a dark scrape against Eddie’s ear. "Don’t just glance—really look."
And Eddie looks. He sees the damp flush between your breasts, the way your hips lift like you’re already chasing it, the way your pupils blow wide when Steve’s thumb swipes over your bottom lip. "She’s not yours," Steve breathes, dragging his teeth over Eddie’s earlobe. "But fuck, look how bad she wants you to try."
Eddie’s pulse races. Then Steve steps back, gesturing like a king permitting a subject to kneel. "Go on. Make her forget my fucking name."
So he closes his eyes, trying to drown out the noise in his head, to sync himself with the thrum of your heartbeat beneath him, to dissolve into every breath you take. He wants to belong here, in this moment, where Steve’s approval hangs heavy in the air and your pleasure is the only thing that matters — success. A satisfied hum from Steve when Eddie finally finds the right rhythm, a broken moan from your lips. But your eyes — your eyes stay locked on Steve, even as Eddie’s mouth works you over. It’s still him you want. Hunger battles with pride in Eddie’s chest. He hates how badly he craves this—how much he needs Steve’s approval—but god, he longs to pull those sounds from you himself, to unravel you with nothing but his touch. And so he moves like a man possessed, single-minded in his mission to play you like an instrument, to pluck every string until you snap.
Your taste is intoxicating, something he’s already addicted to, something he’s not sure he can live without anymore. Your eyes scrunch shut as pleasure blooms, so lost in it that you don’t even notice Steve speeding up his strokes, his grip tight on his cock. Eddie gets close—so close he can practically taste your climax—but you linger on the edge, just out of reach. He’s aware he’s missing something, some final piece to send you over, but he can’t find it. Then your eyes flicker open again, searching for Steve’s gaze like it’s the only thing that can save you. And Eddie knows—he’s pushed his luck too far. Steve’s patience snaps—not with his pleasure, but with Eddie’s failure to give you yours. Next thing he knows, he’s being dragged back, the warmth of you ripped away too soon. Steve looms over him, a predator in human skin, annoyance rolling off him in waves. “If you want to get a chance to fuck her,” Steve growls, voice dripping with challenge, “you’re going to have to do better than that.”
Eddie’s brain becomes the mental equivalent of a dropped Wi-Fi signal—because did Steve just imply—?
Every touch, every taste Steve has allowed him, Eddie has devoured with insatiable hunger. But now it hits him—this is more than just a demonstration. Steve might actually let him fuck you. Or he would have. Now, Eddie isn’t sure he’ll ever get the opportunity again. A sharp, breathy cry from you yanks him from his thoughts. Steve has already turned you over, guiding you onto your hands and knees, one foot perched on the armrest behind you like a damn king claiming his treasure. Eddie is so close to your face now, your slick still glistening on his chin as you blink up at him, dazed. Steve teases your entrance with his cock, just enough to have you pushing back, begging for it. And for one glorious, heart-stopping moment—you look at Eddie.
Not at back at Steve.
At him.
Your gaze is pure, primal desperation—like he’s the one you need. Steve drives into you in one brutal thrust, and your eyes screw shut in ecstasy. You sob Steve’s name, but your eyes flicker back open as you you look at him.
“Baby, please—” And it dawns on him—you are begging Steve, but not for Steve. No, you’re begging for permission, your gaze locked onto Eddie like he’s the only thing anchoring you to earth. He doesn’t know what you’re asking for, but Christ, he already knows he wants it just as much.
Steve, of course, does understand. He drags his cock into you agonisingly slow, pressing tender kisses along your spine even as his voice comes out harsh. “You think he deserves it, honey?” You whine, desperate, but Steve doesn’t need more than that. He leans over you, his thrusts deliberate, sinful. “How could I ever say no to you?”
And fuck, Eddie gets it now—gets why Steve turns possessive, gets why you love it. He’s watching the two of you move like a single entity, Steve’s hips rolling into you with a precision that rewrites Eddie’s entire understanding of sex. And the real tragedy? He’s pretty sure you’re only getting started. Your fingers fist in Eddie’s collar, yanking him down hard. His breath stutters as your lips take him in, hot and needy, and he doesn’t think—just reacts, his hands tangling in your hair as Steve’s thrusts rock you forward, forcing Eddie deeper into your mouth. You moan around him, the vibrations nearly undoing him right there, but then your hand tugs at his belt loop like it’s personally offended you, and Eddie’s thoughts fry into static. What do you want? He glances at Steve for answers, but the bastard just laughs, driving into you harder like he’s savouring Eddie’s confusion.
And God help him, Eddie looks. It’s downright pornographic. Steve’s cock glistens as he pulls out, your body clinging to him like it never wants to let go, and every time he sinks back in, you clench, a broken noise tearing from your throat.
As Eddie freezes, you take matters into your own hands, undoing Eddie’s belt with ruthless efficiency. The zipper’s barely down before his jeans pool at his knees. He looks at Steve again—helpless—but Steve just shakes his head, smirking. “Jesus, Munson. Keep up.”
Your fingers brush the straining outline of his cock through his boxers, and his hips jerk. Your mouth finds the spot beneath his ear, teeth scraping, and—fuck—it nearly sends him over the edge right then. You’re not gentle. You know exactly what you want. In seconds, his dick is in your hand, your grip perfect, and the first stroke has him grinding his teeth so hard his jaw hurts. He wants to keep his eyes open—to watch, to devour every detail of every second—but his body betrays him. A shudder wracks through him, his lashes fluttering helplessly before his head falls back, lost to the crushing wave of ecstasy."
“Fuck—!”
Steve’s voice cuts through the haze, dark with amusement. “That’s it, sweetheart. Show him how good you can be.” His hand tangles in your hair—not guiding, just holding—like he wants Eddie to see he’s the one in control. That every gasp you make, every shudder Eddie can’t suppress, is because Steve orchestrated it.
“Bet he’s never felt anything like you.” Eddie’s thighs tremble, his cock twitching against your tongue. He’s close, too close, and Steve knows it—fuck, he’s enjoying it. “Look at him,” Steve murmurs, dragging his cock out of you just to slam back in, punching a moan from your lips. “Already shaking for you. Bet he wishes it was him inside instead.” His thumb swipes over your clit, and you whimper, your rhythm on Eddie faltering. “But he’s got to earn that, doesn’t he?”
Earn it? Eddie’s vision blurs at the edges. He’d shamelessly beg if it meant— Then your tongue swirls over the head of his cock, and he chokes, almost falling forward into you.
“Steady,” Steve warns, though his voice is anything but calm. “You cum before she does, and I’ll make you watch while I fuck her twice as hard.”
Eddie’s groan is nothing short of pure agony. Steve fucks you more slowly then—cruel, like he’s savouring Eddie’s torment—dragging his cock almost all the way out before sinking back in, his grip on your hair tightening just enough to make your eyes water. But your dedication doesn’t waver; if anything, it burns hotter. “Shit—” Eddie’s hips jerk involuntarily, but you swallow him deeper, humming around the salt-bitter heat of him. His fingers scramble at the cushions, knuckles white. “Jesus, sweetheart, where the hell did you learn—?”
Steve’s laugh is a dark, knowing thing against your neck. His hands slide up your thighs, spreading you wider as he presses inside, slow, letting you feel every fucking inch. “She’s full of surprises,” he murmurs, lips grazing your ear. “But you’re not going to last long enough to find out, are you?”
Eddie’s groan disintegrates, the way you swirl your tongue around him, the slick pressure of your throat—it’s nothing like the groupies who’d thrown themselves at Corroded Coffin. This is ruination. This is worship. Your mouth works him with practiced greed, and Eddie’s vision blurs.
“Fuck, I’m not—I can’t—”
“Yes. You can.” Steve’s voice doesn’t leave room for argument—this isn’t a suggestion; it’s a command. His hand moves from your scalp to your nipple, pinching just shy of pain until you whine around Eddie’s cock. His other hand slips between your legs, circling your clit with filthy precision. “You going to come for us, sweetheart?” he rasps. You nod frantically, lips stretched lewdly around Eddie. “Good. Let him see.” You break with a cry, muffled around Eddie’s cock, and Steve growls as your body clenches around him. “That’s it,” he grits out, hips snapping harder, “that’s my girl—” Eddie’s spellbound.
Steve fucks you through it, your tears smearing Eddie’s thighs. His breath comes in punched-out gasps, cock twitching against your tongue—
Steve loses control first. A guttural groan tears from his throat as he spills inside you, forehead dropping between your shoulder blades.
Eddie’s hips stutter when you whimper, oversensitive, as Steve grinds into you one last time—claiming you like he wants to brand the feeling into your skin. And then— “Fuck!” Eddie’s back arches, his cock jerking as you pull off with a slick pop, begging Steve for mercy. He comes untouched, frustration and relief searing through him as he gasps your name like a prayer. Steve laughs, low and satisfied. Eddie’s too wrecked to care, chest heaving—until Steve’s next words send him tumbling straight back into want.
“Let me know if you’ve got any requests for the next lesson.”
for your smut request ☺️ eddie seeing the love marks he left on reader and getting turned on all over again remember how it got there in the first place 🫶🏻
thank u for requesting :D — the one where eddie realizes quitting smoking would be a whole lot easier than quitting you (established relationship, allusions to smut 18+ | 0.9k)
You lie in the center of Eddie’s bed, trying hard to catch your breath, while the boy rolls off the squeaking mattress on tingling limbs.
You hear him chuck the used condom into the bin by the nightstand as he goes. He tugs plaid boxers up lanky legs, then fishes for the pack of cigs left in his discarded jeans in one fell swoop. His movements are so practiced now they seem almost fluid. Or maybe that’s just the honeyed haze leftover in your heavy eyes.
Eddie opens the window with one hand, then brings the other up to his mouth. He plucks a cigarette from the carton with his lips and leaves the rest on the sill. A midnight breeze billows past his flushed cheeks and wild curls before finding you. It feels like silk against your buzzing, bare skin.
He cups a hand over his mouth to light the stick. The amber flame makes his face glow. Suddenly, everything smells of sex, nicotine, and midnight air.
You writhe under the thin sheets to stretch your aching limbs before mustering a small smile at the boy across the room. “Smoking after sex is so cliche,” you joke in contented slurs.
“Well, it’s your fault,” the boy insists as grey smoke billows from his rosy mouth. He flicks the filter end of the cigarette to dispel the ash in the ceramic tray, then stretches his arms over his head. It leaves his milky white torso on display for you. Your mouth waters with the urge to run your lips over each of his fading tattoos.
“Is it?” you hum.
“Mhmm,” Eddie nods wordlessly. He sticks the cig back in his mouth and mumbles through it. “If you weren’t so needy, I wouldn’t be smokin’ so much.”
A beam tugs at your lips, threatening to fill the lamplit bedroom with sunshine. You cage it between your teeth because both of you know Eddie was the so-called needy one no more than ten minutes ago –– panting in your ear as he fucked sloppily into you, and leaving his pathetic little whimpers there, too.
“Please cum,” he begged against your skin as his thrusts lost rhythm, weighed down by his own need for release. “Please cum for me. I need to feel it. Need to feel it so bad, baby. Please.”
You watch the memory replay itself in Eddie’s faraway gaze. The notion makes your chest go warm. “Well, you have my deepest sympathies, Eddie Spaghetti,” you murmur in response, soft and sarcastic.
Eddie lifts a pale shoulder in a lazy shrug. “It’s okay,” he mumbles back, cigarette bobbing on his bottom lip. “I can just bill you for all the packs I’m goin’ through.”
“Or we can just stop having sex?” you offer with a knowing lilt to your voice, rising to sit further up on the pillows. You clutch the sheets to your bare chest and look at the boy beneath your lashes. “That’s free, at least.”
Eddie nods, eyes squinted in feigned curiosity. “Hm... That’s definitely an interesting proposition,” he hums with his head angled towards the window to blow smoke out of.
“I mean, I have plenty of toys to keep me occupied––”
“And by toy, I assume you’re talking about Steve The Hair Harrington?” Eddie tries to joke, though his poorly concealed jealousy goes unentertained.
“––But I think you’ll get tired of your right hand very quickly.”
“Hey,” Eddie pouts. “You know I’m ambidextrous. I can switch it up.”
“So, it’s settled then?” you shrug. “No more sex.”
Eddie bows his head sheepishly, silently calculating a way to get him out of the hole he dug for himself. He snuffs the cigarette out in the ashtra, and his eyes flit to the opened box of condoms on his dresser, all but calling his name.
“Well… I mean… We still have eleven condoms left, so…”
You meet his brown-eyed look of expectancy with a cynical smirk. “You see eleven condoms, I see eleven minutes of my life I’m never getting back,” you quip.
Eddie stalks towards you on long legs, brows furrowed in a pitiful look. “Stop being mean to me. I’ll fall in love with you––” he whines playfully, leaning over the mattress with the intent to kiss you. His eyes fall to the blossoming bruises on your neck, and he stops short. “Jesus…”
“What?” you murmur in a mousy voice, eyes wide and glittering.
“Nothin’,” Eddie blurts as he raises his hand to run his fingers over your warm skin. He traces the blooming blood vessels over your collarbone, and his face screws with worry. “Do these hurt?” he wonders aloud.
“Do these?” you echo, motioning to the scratches on his shoulders he hasn’t bothered to notice until now. You didn’t even know you were leaving them there, in truth, as you held onto the boy for dear life while he fucked you within an inch of your own.
Eddie tucks his chin to his chest and tries to eye the scrapes from his peripheral vision. He spots four lines of raging red and puffed-up skin. They feel almost like battle scars –– an aching that he’s proud of.
“A little,” he shrugs, then smiles proudly to himself. “They feel good, though.”
“So do these,” you hum.
His heavy eyes fall to your neck again. His mouth waters at the sight of the lovebites littered there. “Want some more?” he offers lowly.
“I thought we had a deal, Eds? No more sex,” you tease as the boy leans further into kiss you. You smell nicotine and sex on his breath, and your head starts to swim.
“We never shook on it,” Eddie insists, right before kissing you hard enough to steal the breath from your lungs.
warnings: primal play/chasing kink, public sex, dom!eddie, pet names (alice, hatter, little rabbit), light orgasm denial, fingering, spanking, dacryphilia, unprotected piv sex, creampie, breeding kink (if you squint)
word count: 2.7k
a/n: this is another repost/reworking from my old blog, just in time for spooky season. i hope you all enjoy <3
Eddie has been searching for you all night.
But the moment you crossed the threshold into the Harrington residence, he hadn’t been able to get you alone. Slipping through his fingers at every turn. Even though this party and the couple's costume was your idea in the first place, you've left him hanging all night.
As frustrated as he was, he couldn’t deny that seeing you prancing around in that frilly, blue costume was doing things to him.
What Eddie doesn’t realize though, was that this little game of cat and mouse was a part of your plan all along. A fantasy you didn’t quite know how to voice to him. Your desire to push his buttons until he couldn’t take it anymore, taking you wherever he eventually catches you.
But your boyfriend was quickly beginning to reach his breaking point.
So when he finally corners you hours later in Steve’s kitchen—you flee the room in a flash of blue lace.
Eddie hisses out in frustration, tossing his mad hatter hat aside on the counter before following you out the back door.
“Come on sweetheart, where are you going?” he calls, raising his arms in defeat.
When you finally turn to face him, a playful grin tugs at the corner of your lips. Your body slips out the back gate with ease. A curved finger beckons him to follow, lustful eyes drinking him in…oh so slowly.
“I’m late for a very important date…” you coo, before turning to dash through the thicket behind the Harrington residence.
Eddie growls in annoyance, but quickly hops the fence to chase after you. You can hear the crunching of leaves beneath his feet, unable to hide your glee when you dart ahead of him. With his long legs, you know he’s much faster than you—and at this rate he’d have you in his clutches in no time.
So you quickly duck behind a tree, your back pressed against the rough bark while you attempt to steady your heavy breathing. His pace suddenly slows to a brisk walk, keeping his eyes peeled for any flash of the pastel blue of your costume.
“Oh, Alice?” Eddie calls out, in a tone you know all too well.
You’re in big trouble.
The implication in his voice has you clenching your thighs together in anticipation. But you aren’t ready to give in just yet, he needs to work for it. From your vantage point you can see his lanky frame in the distance, his back to you as he wanders further into the trees.
You remove yourself from your hiding spot to continue behind him, taking slow and careful steps. Your heart pounds in your chest with each step you take, knowing he could turn at any given moment and find you.
The sound of a twig snapping beneath your shoe breaks the prolonged silence, your whole body halts when you notice the muscles in his back tense. But you are quick to turn on your heel, running in the opposite direction before he even has the chance to turn around.
You can hear his growl of frustration, the sound causing a shiver to course through you.
You manage to hide behind some brush, the cool dirt beginning to seep through the thin layer of your stockings as you crouch down. And when you dare a peek through the branches, you catch a glimpse of his combat boots as he walks right past your hiding spot.
His fists are clenched at his sides, rings glinting in the pale moonlight. And despite the chill hanging in the air, the sight causes heat to rush through you.
“Run all you want sweet, Alice…” he mutters under his breath, “I’ll find you soon enough.”
You stifle a giggle, cupping your hand over your mouth. Once you hear his footsteps retreat further into the distance, you slowly rise to your feet. Taking a quick peek around before finally leaving the safety of the bushes.
A cool autumn breeze blows past, lifting your hair from your shoulders and biting at your skin. Leaves rustle, then settle around you as you continue into the darkness of the forest. It is almost too quiet now and the thought alone makes you feel a little uneasy.
Did he get fed up and leave? Or was he just lying in wait?
While you weren’t entirely sure of the answer, you continued on your way. The lights of Steve’s home continue to grow dim the further into the trees you went. The only sounds to be heard were your shaky inhales of breath and the dead leaves crunching beneath your feet.
Now that your boyfriend was nowhere in sight, you were starting to regret your decision to run into the woods. Woods that held stories of mysterious creatures and missing children. Every little noise has you ready to jump out of your skin, while the darkness around you begins to feel suffocating.
But a loud howl in the distance has your whole body seizing up, fear flooding your veins.
“Oh, fuck this…” you mumble, beginning to turn when your back is suddenly forced against a tree.
The bark digs into your shoulders through the thin material of your dress, scraping against your skin. A broken scream is silenced when a hand slaps over your mouth, the other gripping onto your hip to hold you in place.
“I told you I’d find you…”
Eddie’s eyes are dark when they meet yours, pure onyx nearly swallows the warmth of his irises whole. A sliver of moonlight has broken through the canopy of trees, casting a pale halo over his mop of dark curls.
However, his cheshire-like grin is anything but angelic.
Once he sees the flash of recognition in your eyes does he remove his hand from your mouth. Only to quickly gather both of your wrists in one of his own to pin them above your head. You let out a shaky breath when he nudges his knee between your legs, spreading them open.
A shiver courses through you when you feel the cool brush of his fingertips against your inner thigh, a low groan escapes him once he realizes you have nothing on beneath this frilly costume.
“Oh, you’ve been a very naughty girl tonight, Alice…” he hums, “Thought you knew better than to run from me, sweetheart.”
You can’t stop the whimper from falling past your lips when his fingers dip between your soaked folds. Eddie grins wickedly at the sound, lightly nudging your clit with his knuckle. He revels in the way your body shudders beneath him, head tilting to the side in amusement.
There’s no denying how much this chase has affected you, he can feel it in the way your sticky nectar coats the calloused pads of his fingers. But Eddie would be a liar if he tried to say he wasn’t just as pent up as you are. It’s obvious in the way his hardened cock digs into the flesh of your hip.
“But since you decided to be such a fucking tease tonight,” he tuts disapprovingly when you continue to squirm in his hold. “We’re going to be playing by my rules from now on, understand?”
You don’t trust your voice, arousal clouding your thoughts. So you merely nod, but that is not what he wants. Eddie removes his hand from between your thighs to grab your face, squishing your cheeks together harshly.
A small gasp leaves your lips when you feel your slick smear across your cheeks, but your cunt practically throbs in response.
“None of that coy shit, use. your. words,” he practically growls.
“— Yes, Hatter…” you whine, “ I understand.”
Your boyfriend grins widely, thrilled that you’re playing along. He loosens his grip on your cheeks, fingers returning to their previous position between your thighs. And when Eddie slips one of the digits inside, he’s met with no resistance.
“So, you like being chased, huh, little rabbit?” he coos mockingly, “Gets you all hot and bothered?”
He easily slides another finger inside, curving them up to brush against your sweet spot. A soft moan tumbles past your lips, tipping your head back to rest against the trunk of the tree. That signature smirk returns to his features, urging him to continue to rub against that spongy spot inside you.
But slow enough that it was beginning to drive you mad.
“More, please,” you whine.
Pride blooms in his chest at your plea, a deep chuckle rumbling through him. His darkened eyes flick lower, watching in amusement when he removes his fingers from beneath your skirt. Your juices practically shine in the moonlight as he brings his fingers to his lips.
“Oh, I’m not done playing with you yet, sweet thing…” he hums, head tilting to allow his lips to graze over the shell of your ear. “Besides, I know you can beg a lot better than that.”
Your hands begin to twist in his grasp, eager to reach out and tangle your fingers in his wild locks. But Eddie only squeezes them tighter in his grasp before landing a harsh slap to your clit.
And when those calloused fingers slip between your folds again, he doesn’t give you what you want. Not right away. The digits purposefully dancing around where you want them most.
While you know you deserve this as punishment for making him chase you all night, you can’t help the frustrated whines from tumbling past your lips.
“Please,” you hiccup. “I promise I’ll be so good, Eddie. Please, just touch me!”
Tears begin to well in the corners of your eyes, but he chooses to deny you more. His fingers brush over your sensitive nub, drifting lower to dip inside your entrance for a moment…only to quickly remove them.
The male keeps up these torturous motions for a long while, until he witnesses the mascara tears beginning to slip down your cheeks.
The sight has him grinning devilishly, cock twitching beneath the dark denim of his jeans. Only then does he relent, thumb pressing against your clit while his plump lips pepper soft kisses along the curve of your jaw.
The gesture was far more tender in comparison to his previous actions, the juxtaposition has your head swimming.
“Eddie…” you pant, “I need you.”
You no longer care how pathetic you sound when you rut your hips up against his palm, but his own need to claim you soon outweighs his desire to tease you any further. His lips press against yours, entirely urgent as he releases his grip on your wrists. You desperately knot your fingers into his hair to keep him pressed against you.
The male takes a step back, then another before his foot catches on a root. Eddie loses his balance, and the both of you go tumbling to the ground. He lands on his back with a small groan, the air knocked from your lungs when you land on his hard chest. You brace your palms on his shoulders, straddling his waist in an attempt to right yourself.
“Mm, as good as you look on top of me, sweetheart…” he trails off, raking his hands up the meat of your thighs.
Your flimsy white stockings don’t stand a chance against his harsh grip, the torn fabric exposing more of your bare skin to the chilly night air.
Your mouth falls open, scolding words beginning to form on the tip of your tongue. But your body is flipped over and underneath him before you can utter a single syllable. Eddie coaxes you onto your knees, guiding your ass up as he presses your cheek against the cool ground.
When you hear his belt unbuckle, you instinctively squirm beneath him. Any logical thought is replaced with pure desperation as you whimper into the dirt. You can feel the rumble of his laughter when he leans over you, lips brushing against your ear.
“I’d rather fuck you like this, little rabbit…” he continues with a grunt.
Your answering whine has him flipping up your frilly skirt, exposing you completely to the elements. A harsh slap rings out into the night when his palm connects with the plush skin of your ass. Landing a slap on the other cheek for good measure, or a silent order to stay still.
You wouldn’t dare disobey him now, not when you can feel the tip of his cock gliding through your slick folds. He nudges it against your sensitive bud, enjoying the way your body jolts in response. And when he finally guides the head inside you, he lets out a low hiss as your tight warmth envelopes him and he fills you with one fluid motion.
“Jesus, fuck you’re tight…” he says underneath his breath, noting the way your body responds to the subtle praise. “Gonna give you everything, sweetheart.”
A muffled moan is all you can manage when he starts moving, feeling every inch of his cock stretching you past your limits. His hips rock into yours at a brutally slow pace, no doubt to tease you a little more. His rings bite into the dip of your hips when you push back against him, impatience guiding your movements.
“Faster— please,” you whimper.
A dark chuckle slips past his lips at your pleading, but he obliges by snapping his hips forward. A gasp is punched from your lungs, digging your nails into the dirt beneath you for purchase. The stark silence between the trees is broken, now filled with the noises of your bodies connecting.
The notion that anyone could stumble upon you both in this position only adds to the experience, your walls pulsing around his cock at the thought.
“Look at you, little rabbit…” he taunts, giving your hip a squeeze. “So pretty like this.”
Eddie can’t force his gaze away from where your bodies are joined, the sticky mess of your arousal smeared across your thighs. And how desperately he wants to see his own desire dripping down your trembling legs.
“Bet you want me to fill you up, huh? Mark you so everyone knows you’re all mine.”
A jumbled array of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ leave your lips, barely audible over the slick sounds of him thrusting into you. Then you feel his hand drift lower, underneath the petticoat of your skirt to encircle your clit.
His brutal pace combined with the delicious pressure on your clit only brings you closer to the edge. Your cries grow louder, more insistent and when he hits that spot inside you dead on…you’re done for.
Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, eyes rolling back once you reach that peak. Your knees wobble, buckling from the force of it. But Eddie is quick to guide your hips back up with a soft chuckle.
He doesn’t let up either, fucking you through your high as he chases his own. But that familiar warmth has started to build in your abdomen again, desperate for another release. Your fingers quickly find themselves between your legs, swiping over your swollen clit in tight circles.
Each brush of your fingers has you clenching harder around him, pulling a throaty moan from his lips. It wouldn’t be long now… Eddie’s thrusts begin to falter, becoming sloppier.
“Good girl…” he praises, voice hoarse with desire. “Come on, give me another.”
One final deep thrust is your undoing, a broken cry rips itself from your lungs as you fall apart beneath him again. And with a low groan of your name, he’s spilling inside you. Warming you from the inside, out. Your body crumbles forward in delightful exhaustion, the cool earth a welcome reprieve against your heated skin.
Eddie gently lowers your hips to the ground, hissing quietly as he slides his softening length from you. You sigh in content when you feel the sticky essence of him dripping down your legs. A shiver passes through you when you feel his chilled fingers on your inner thigh, collecting the combined mess there before he brings it to his mouth with a low hum.
His back hits the ground next to you with a soft thud before he’s coaxing you into his arms. His body is overly warm, sweat clinging to his brow despite the cold that settles into your bones with each passing breath. You spare a glance up at the star riddled sky, his own falling to your features. Gazing at you with a look that could only be described as pure adoration.
“Am I crazy for letting you fuck me in the middle of the woods?” you laugh breathlessly, scanning his face as he grins down at you.
“Oh, sweet, Alice…” he hums, grazing the pad of his thumb along your cheek. “We’re all a little mad here.”
Series Summary: You’re resigned to living in your best friend’s shadow, letting her walk all over you in her designer heels because life is just easier that way. But when she takes the one thing that matters you decide enough is enough. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
Series Warnings: Angst, jealousy, pining, heartbreak, unrequited love, reader has poor self-image, swearing, eventual smut, eventual witchcraft/occult themes, eventual dark-ish!reader
warnings: 18+ only here folks, modern!college au, dry humping, little bit of kissing, just two ‘friends’ practicing, ami’right?
a/n: shoutout to both @keeksandgigz and @hippiegoth97 for hyping me up and encouraging me to finish/post this. also full credit to keeks for giving me the idea for that one specific eddie line in here hehe. you are both angels and ily 🫶🏻
“eddie, i don’t know about this…” you hesitate, silently praying he can’t hear your quickening pulse due to your close proximity. “this isn’t too weird?”
it’s a precarious position you’ve found yourself in, straddling the lap of one of your tech crew. and if anyone were to peek their head in the auditorium they would think something much more scandalous was taking place.
but between the two of you, this was just a friend helping out another. even if the utterance of the word friend made you want to shrink inwardly.
because you felt way more than friendly feelings towards the guy seated beneath you.
“hey, it’s alright… just,” he pauses, hands carefully slipping around your waist to coax you fully onto his lap. “there— see? i don’t bite.”
but eddie’s cheeky grin does nothing to slow your accelerated heart rate.
“besides, if you can’t do this with just you and me… how do you expect to do it in front of an audience?”
he gestures to the sea of empty seats, but the unyielding reassurance in his eyes has you relaxing fully onto his lap.
“there you go,” he mumbles, glancing down at the pages of your open script beside him.
while you fully knew what you were in for when you auditioned for this show, you didn’t exactly expect yourself to be thrust into the role of leading lady veronica sawyer.
you had been gunning for the role of ditzy, but adorable heather mcnamara— but were utterly surprised to find yourself cast in the role of veronica instead. but it was a challenge you were more than willing to take on.
so when eddie (amongst the rest of the cast and crew) had seen you struggling during beginning rehearsals for dead girl walking— he of course offered to help you work on your confidence outside of scheduled rehearsals.
while his intentions were mostly pure, he can’t deny that having you in his lap was making him feel things he would be too ashamed to admit aloud. he just hopes his lower half can keep itself in check for the next hour and a half.
you blow out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, allowing your hands to rest fully on his shoulders. you can feel his muscles contract beneath your fingers when he sets your script back down on the stage floor.
“so, from the full steam ahead line?” he asks.
but you’re suddenly rendered speechless when the dimmed stage lights reflect the deep flecks of gold in his eyes.
oh you were so royally fucked.
“u-uh, just before that?” you suddenly break his intense gaze but your next move has heat soaking into your limbs.
you slide your hands down the front of his chest, only stopping when you reach the hem of his t-shirt. your eyes flick back up to his in a silent question, to which he just nods.
“gonna ride me till you break me, right?” he grins, his hand gently squeezing your hip in a reassuring manner.
but his words send a shock through your system and without thinking you quickly rip the soft fabric up and over his head.
it hits the stage floor with a silent thud and before he can react your lips are on his neck. light as feather when they trail down the base of his throat, the encouraging, yet snarky words of your director now flooding through your head.
i want passion, give me horny teenage aggression!
so when you suddenly shove him until he’s lying back on the stage, you can see the flash of surprise that flits over his features. but you somehow miss the way his cock stirs beneath his jeans and the hunger that reflects in his eyes.
“sorry, you okay?” you whisper between kisses down his chest and eddie swears he’s gone to heaven.
“yeah— yeah, shit. keep going.”
you bite back a small smirk at the breathless hitch in his voice but continue your descent down his torso. you can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath your lips and the faint tinge of sweat on your tongue.
it takes all of your remaining resolve not to lick over the dark ink that swirls across his hip bone, but you are suddenly reminded of exactly where you are and why you are even doing this in the first place.
focus.
but when your fingers carefully card through the patch of hair just below his navel to reach for his belt buckle— it’s eddie who has to pull himself together.
while you’ve been attempting to count the beats of the instrumental break in your head, you soon realize you’ve gone on a little longer than originally intended. but eddie hasn’t bothered to correct your mistake.
the male was far too enamored with how good your lips feel against his skin. your eyes flick up to meet his ever darkening gaze as you sit back up, tossing your head back with your arm stretched high above your head.
“full steam ahead— take this dead girl walking.” you sing.
“h-how’d you find my address?” he stutters.
“—let’s break the bed, rock this dead girl walking…”
eddie’s a little stunned before he can deliver his next line at the subtle roll of your hips. the male merely leans up on his elbows to bring you closer as he tries to look anywhere but your chest.
that spark of confidence has re-ignited within you and eddie can’t help but feel a surge of pride fill his chest as he watches you in complete awe.
“no sleep tonight for you, better chug that mountain dew,” you tap your thumb against his jaw when you cup his cheek, fully immersing yourself in this moment with him.
he nods almost frantically, echoing JD’s breathless sentiment as his warm palms envelope the bare skin of your thighs. you gladly push one of his hands up higher beneath your pleated skirt, until he’s nearing the curve of your ass.
every movement and graze of his skin feels natural, like his hands are meant to be on you. it had never felt like this when you rehearsed with jonathan, that feeling of red hot desire was always missing whenever he gripped you tighter.
but when eddie continues to pull you in, it ignites a flame deep within you, one that you never expected anyone to stoke again.
you playfully tap your palm against his cheek in a mock slap and guide his dominant hand to tug on the loose strands of your hair.
“touch me there and there and there…” you gasp, yanking open the snap buttons on your blouse.
eddie’s eyes nearly pop out of his head when he takes in the lacy pink fabric of your bra, unable to tear his gaze away as you start to rock your hips down into his.
when you feel the bulge that’s now entirely pressing against your clothed core, it only encourages you to guide his hands up to completely envelope your breasts.
any remnants of the blocking and choreography have completely left your mind as you both desperately grind against each other.
the male meets your thrusts with almost perfect precision, his fly catching on your clothed clit in a way that has your whimpering in between breathy lyrics.
those sparks that have been building up inside you are about to completely burst into a raging fire, threatening to swallow you both whole if you aren’t careful.
“— wait, wait!” he all but groans when your lips press against his jaw.
his body seizes up beneath you, all in an effort to stop himself from completely busting in his jeans. each drag of your hips feels too good and the pretty noises you’re making have him wondering what you’d sound like moaning his name instead.
control yourself, munson.
eddie is panting by the time you finish belting out your final note, your body practically slumping forward against his bare chest. he cradles you a little softer, fingertips gently trailing over the bare skin of your back. and it has a shiver running down your spine.
when he finally speaks, he can’t hide the titillate lilt in his voice.
Can’t Sleep, Love
I’m Wide Awake
Not a Chance in Hell
The Honor Roll
The Honor Roll (pt.2)
The Honor Roll (pt.3)*
Green Isn’t Your Color
None of Your Business
Mirror, Mirror*
You, Me, & Steve* (Steddie)
Full Moon*
Beautiful
Sinkin’ In Deep*
Dare or Dare*
Princess I
Princess II
Show Me*
Bells, Bells, Bells* (Steddie)
Haunted Eyes
‖ summary: You're Eddie's first relationship and he falls fast. Faster than you are ready for. You tell yourself it'll work out until it almost kills you both.
‖ tags: angst, break up fic, new and unhealthy relationship, no y/n, gender neutral reader, no pronouns used, nicknames are doll and baby. based on reckless driving by Lizzy McAlpine, Ben Kessler. tw: unsafe driving/close call car accident
‖ word count: 2k
“Eddie, I have to talk to you about something.”
No good conversation has ever started off that way. But it’s really like that for a reason.
You’ve been rehearsing it in your head all day, all week. The ‘I think we should take a break’ talk. The one you know he’s never had and won’t really understand.
Especially not with how things are going right now.
At first, Eddie’s reckless behavior was something you loved about him. He was so unapologetic about everything he did – so steadfast in his beliefs and his decisions. Stubborn, maybe, but he was so sure of himself. At least, he appeared to be from an outside perspective. He was fun and spontaneous and you thought that was what you needed. Plus he also made you feel safe, in a way. He was very ride or die with the people he cared about. Once you were in, you were in, and the idea of that was so thrilling.
As you got closer to him, you noticed more. His imagination had no rival, his brain was constantly on the move. It made sense that he struggled so much in school – the dude could barely sit in one spot for more than a few minutes. There were always things that needed to be done, songs to be written, campaigns to be planned, and everything else that mattered more than his responsibilities. He was a dreamer that lived in the clouds. As a person with a heavy anchor to the earth, it was a marvel to sometimes end up in the sky with him.
Eddie Munson made everything seem lighter. Made everything more fun.
Looking back on it, you always really liked the idea of Eddie Munson. The reality wasn’t quite what you thought it would be.
On your third time hanging out with him, just the two of you, you took your chance. It had been a night of jokes and laughs and smiles that made your cheeks hurt. He looked at you like you hung the moon and the stars in the night sky above your heads and you grabbed his collar and yanked his mouth to yours before you could think about it twice.
He made you feel brave that way.
After an awkward and less than ideal kiss, you pulled away to a shell shocked Eddie. It turned out he had no idea you were crushing on him, thought you both were just hanging out as friends. He never thought someone like you would be interested in him. That, right there, had been his first ever kiss.
With this new information and a sickly sweet smile, you asked him if he wanted to have his second ever kiss. He basically fell on top of you in his excitement.
After that point, you’d describe the rest of your time together as ‘dating.’ Although, that was only 6 weeks ago. Things with Eddie had progressed… Quickly, to say the least.
At first, it was endearing. He was just so excited to have feelings reciprocated with someone that he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He called you his partner, his love, his future. You’d thought he was making fun, being cute. Really leaning in on that puppy love from a new relationship.
A week and a half into your brand new relationship, he explained how excited he was to navigate holidays with your family, that he had never met (and it was May), and asked if you’d thought about moving in together. He was dead serious. You’d laughed at first, accidentally hurting his feelings, and you rushed to recover without really knowing what to make of it. Of course, you weren’t against the idea of those things in theory, but it was all just happening so fast.
The first time you tried to explain that you weren’t really thinking that far ahead, wanting to think about the time spent with him now, he’d gotten upset. More upset than you anticipated. It felt like you were ruining something that was fun and exciting for him – he was all in and ready to go all the way, no matter how little you actually knew each other, and you felt like you were trying to play catchup in a race you weren’t sure you were ready to run.
You’d comforted him, told him you were just overwhelmed. He’d apologized for overreacting, explaining he was scared to lose you when he had only just gotten to be with you.
That explanation fed you over the next few weeks. This was all so new to him, is what you told yourself. He spent way too much money on a spontaneous gift for you because he wanted to impress you, even though he was barely making enough to cover his expenses. He skipped work to surprise you during lunch because he thought it would be romantic, even though he got in a lot of trouble for it and could’ve lost his job. He would randomly show up at your house unannounced – wanted to occupy all of your time, invited himself along on everything you tried to do without him, and seemed anxious whenever you tried to tell him you were busy or wanted some time alone.
He was just so excited to be with you, you told yourself. He didn’t know that it was hurting you because you couldn’t talk to him about it without upsetting him. No matter how gently you tried to broach the subject, it always became the end of the world to him.
It seemed you couldn’t do anything for yourself lately without upsetting him.
The excuses were enough to keep pushing through until earlier this week.
The trees rushed past on the two lane road south of town where the streetlights were few and far between. The stars were bright and blinking in the humid summer night while the breeze rushing in through the windows cooled your skin and ruffled your hair. Eddie was driving fast and had the music at a deafening volume. It made you feel alive – reckless and daring. Brave.
“You look so fucking pretty, doll.”
When you looked over at him, he was staring straight at you. The wind was whipping his messy waves around his face that was absolutely filled with softness. It made your heart rate kick up in your chest for two reasons. “Thanks, handsome. But you should really look at the road.”
You both laughed and he did, at least for a little while. When you looked back a few minutes later, he was staring at you again. Despite his lead foot on the gas pedal.
Anxiety spiking, you felt the smile on your face falter. “Seriously, Eddie, you should watch the road.”
“But I just wanna look at youuuuu,” he cooed in a way that would’ve been adorable if he hadn’t been pushing 80 mph on a country road.
“Eddie, please.” You tried to laugh it off, using your hand to try to turn his face back to looking forward. “You can look at me all you want when we get there, okay?”
Then he took both hands off the steering wheel to take yours, pressing kisses on each of your knuckles and over your palm. “Eddie,” you tried again, attempting to pull your hand away so he would focus. He took your denial playfully, yanking your hand back and flashing you a smile as his foot pressed down harder on the gas, speedometer inching toward 95. “Eddie, seriously!”
“Hmm?” He hummed, giving you a lovesick smile as he finally let your hand drop. You could feel your breathing kicking up, tears springing to your eyes in fear and panic, which seemed to reach him for the first time that something was wrong.
He realized too late.
“Eddie, LOOK OUT!”
His dirty Reebok hit the brake at the same moment his ringed fingers grabbed the wheel, jerking it to the side to avoid the tree that had fallen into the road. The van went skidding across the tarmac – your hands flying out to brace against the dashboard as the force of the spin pressed you hard against your seatbelt. It made a full 180 before the locked up wheels hit dirt and brought the car to an abrupt stop that threw you in the opposite direction of the spin.
Your head hit the backrest hard. There was a burning feeling along your neck and chest from the seatbelt. The car had come to a stop but it still felt like your brain was spinning, like the world was moving. Some nausea kicked up in your stomach and was amplified by the thoughts that invaded your head.
Thoughts like: We could have just died.
“Baby, are you okay?!” Eddie’s big doe eyes were absolutely filled with panic, rapidly looking back and forth between your tear-filled eyes, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, and the trembling of your hands. “I’m so, so sorry, I don’t know how that happened.”
You knew. You knew exactly how. You’d tried to tell him. Begged him to just look at the fucking road.
He’d begged for your forgiveness, starting to cry himself, and you granted it just to placate him. You just wanted to go home. Just wanted to feel safe again.
When did you stop feeling safe with him?
So now, three days later, you were standing in front of the door to his trailer with a rash-covered bruise along your chest and trembling hands. Rehearsing it again in your head, the ‘we need to talk’ speech that you were terrified to give.
The door ripped open before you were ready to knock.
“Hey doll!” Eddie’s face lit up in a brilliant grin, immediately pulling you into a bone crushing hug on his porch. “I was just thinking about you – are you sure you’re not a mind reader?”
“I, uh… I don’t think so?” You replied with an awkward smile, tentatively hugging him back.
“Could’ve fooled me,” he pulled back with a wink and pressed a kiss to your forehead before dragging you inside with him. “Come on, I can’t wait to tell you about this new idea I had for the campaign with the guys.”
This is going to be harder than I thought.
“I would love to but–”
“No, seriously, you’re gonna love it.” He was all smiles as he led you by the hand over to the couch and flopped down onto it, patting the spot next to him for you to sit. When you didn’t, he kept talking anyway. “So they are on the way to this underground cavern that’s supposed to be a settlement, right?”
“Eddie,” you tried to get his attention, still standing a foot away.
“Well, I was thinking, wouldn’t it really fuck them up if it was an underwater settlement? Like with merpeople? They’d have to backtrack, figure out a way to get the party to breathe underwater–”
“Eddie,” you tried again, and were ignored again.
“They should have the funds to buy a couple trinkets, and the sorcerer of the party should be able to cover a spell of waterbreathing for at least one or two of them–”
“EDDIE.”
With the sharp increase of volume from you, he finally fell silent. Those big, brown eyes were on you again and owlishly wide as he finally realized you were trying to say something to him. Another lovesick smile and a tilt of his head, holding out his hands toward you to try to encourage you closer. “What’s up, baby?”
“Eddie, I have to talk to you about something.”
His face and his hands fell in perfect harmony.
You'd rather die than take your eyes off me
I don't love you like that
I’m a careful driver
And I tell you all the time to keep your eyes on the road
But you love me like that
You’re a reckless driver
And one day it’ll kill us if I don’t let go
Eddie, in the middle of being interviewed for a podcast, is like, oh hold on. Then fails to hit the mute button before asking, “Hey, are you done being a bitch today?”
A voice off-camera that’s definitely Steve says, “Are you done being the most annoying person on earth?”
Eddie: So no? You could have just said no.
Steve: …I could have also left you in hell
Eddie: Yeah, maybe you should’ve. I would’ve turned into a mutant vampire creature and I would’ve escaped, and then I would dedicated every day of my life to ruining yours.
Steve: You are. Currently. Ruining. My. Life.
Eddie: Yeah, yeah. You big drama queen.
Steve: I’m the dram- no, I’m not doing this. I’m taking the dog on a walk. You’re not invited.
"Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison
ne connaît point.
"The heart has its reasons of which reason
knows nothing."
You left home to escape. And now you have to escape them.
This series is extremely dark. Please do not read if you are sensitive to any of the following:
TW: Kidnapping, drug use, being drugged, Non-consent, humiliation, stockholm syndrome, manipulation, abuse, whump/whumpee dynamics, d/s dynamics (nonconsensual), victimization, and so much more. Will be updating as story continues, please check each chapter for specific warnings and read at your own discretion.
18+
Steve Harrington x F! reader, momentary mean! Steve, established relationship, lil bit of angst, PIV sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, hate sex turned make up sex
WC:2.2K
A/N: Why not? Enjoy!
"So we're still fighting, huh?", Steve narrows his eyes at you from the kitchen entry way.
He's a picture of disarray — shirt misbuttoned, belt buckle in need of fastening, tie draped loosely over his shoulders and hair a wild, mussed up mess.
His unruly state came to be as a result of forgetting to set his alarm after your heated exchange last night, waking to find he was running late for work and you hadn't bothered to rouse him like you usually would have.
His sarcastic barb goes seemingly unheard though when you refuse to look up from the dishes you're scrubbing in the sink, back still turned to him even though the crumbs from your breakfast of blueberry jam on toast have long been washed clean from your plate.
It was a disagreement blown out of proportion that had caused the friction between you two. Steve had hoped sleeping it off would help to cool your tempers enough to reconcile in the morning but now that seems as likely as him making it to work on time.
Or was it?
He sighs, a clear note of irritation coming through because he should be digging through the laundry basket in search of his socks before he tries to shove his feet inside his shoes without them again in his rush, not rooted in place, eyes dark and stony but taking you in.
Of course you'd try to give him blue balls on top of it all too.
He grits his teeth as he stares at you in your too short satin robe, every inch of your legs and thighs on display as the hem hangs high, just a few inches below the swell of your ass. Practically dangling yourself in front of him.
He enters the kitchen then and though it feels risky approaching you the way that he does, he recognizes that the air's thick with a familiar kind of tension when he comes up behind you.
Quickly and none too gently, he rucks up your robe to confirm a suspicion he'd been harboring. He finds you're nude underneath the thin, silky layer when you allow him just a glimpse, swatting his hand away with a look sharper than a knife's edge when your eyes connect with his over your shoulder.
But Steve knows better than to take it seriously. There's no ire behind your glare — no unspoken threat meant to make him retreat. You're still mad, sure, he can feel the heat radiating off of you just as it's made his own skin warm but your expression softens just enough to confirm that what you really want is for him to come closer. And that's exactly what he does.
You feel the warmth of Steve's chest pressing against your back when you turn to the sink once more, his arms caging you in place, leaving you no room to escape. The water continues to run until he closes the faucet too, leaning down to whisper into your ear. "This how you want to solve it?", he asks, pulling his hand back to lift your robe again only this time you don't attempt to thwart him, letting him cup your ass and squeeze your soft skin. Hard.
The heat of last night's fight had died down to a simmer but it left you both burning in a different, much more familiar way as you answer him.
"Yeah. This is how I want to do it", you utter loud enough for him to hear you clearly though this close together, there's nothing he can miss no matter how softly you might whisper it.
The sound of his belt coming undone has you buzzing beneath your skin while you brace yourself, curling your fingers under the edge of the countertop as Steve finishes pulling out his girthy cock. But before he even attempts to get it anywhere near your entrance he holds out his palm to you, knowing that he doesn't need to ask for you to spit into it, something that feels instinctual now at this stage in your relationship as he draws it back and slicks up his cock with your saliva.
With his length coated in a warm, glossy mixture of your spit and his precum, Steve doesn't keep you waiting for long, your legs parting to help with easing the tip of his cock in.
"Does it hurt?", he asks and while it might sound like he's only concerned about you, you can hear the heat still present in his veins.
"A little", You answer with a little heat of your own, no intention of asking him to stop.
"Good. I know you can take it", he tells you, all thorns and shit eating grins.
It doesn't happen as easily as when you two take the time to engage in foreplay first, your body usually opening up to accept him once he's gotten you ready with his tongue or fingers but this time Steve manages to notch his tip by your hole and breach you once it pops inside with a little effort, the rest of him slowly sinking inch by inch into your velvet heat.
Despite the wetness that smears your inner thighs, your whole body tenses and you have to breathe through it, pain marrying pleasure while you're being stretched open, hissing under your breath when he reaches his base. He spends a few seconds all the way inside you, just feeling you wrap around him and squeeze, your walls pulsing when he decides that's as soft as he'll allow himself to be with you today.
And he proves it when he begins pulling himself out, only to grit his teeth and drive himself back in again, making you squeal instantly, getting you thoroughly acquainted with the feeling and the force of every thrust as his pelvis bounces against your ass.
Steve so rarely ever fucks you like this and you're so caught up in taking his cock that you barely notice the way he reaches up to pull the front of your robe open too, realizing what he's done when he finds your nipples and begins to pinch and tug on them, smirking when it draws a high pitched whimper out of you as your steady breathing turns to shallow pants.
But you're not some delicate flower type. You're not one to be so compliant and let him ruin you so easily. So while Steve's busy fondling your chest you're quick to even the score when you grab hold of his right hand, lifting it up to your mouth so you can sink your teeth into the soft skin between his thumb and his wrist.
The pained hiss turned groan he lets out despite himself is a small victory but a sweet one nonetheless, enough to make you smile around his throbbing hand before deciding to remove your teeth from him, making sure to scoff at him all smug as he rubs at the little red teeth marks left behind on his tan skin.
Of course he takes it as well as a throatful of glass, considering the act a challenge for more.
Steve offers you one small moment of respite, slowly pulling almost all the way out, making sure his swollen tip remains inside you while you sigh, only to make you choke on a moan when he pushes all the way inside again in a single hard thrust, punching the air out of you.
You wanted to retaliate again, maybe reach behind to sink your nails into his thigh, scraping at his skin until narrow lines or blood rise to the surface or even rip at the clothes that hang on him in his state of half undress but you're unable to follow through this time with how he's managed to rattle you.
Steve's far too pleased to feel your elbows start to shake as your arms struggle to keep you up at this point, set on making your knees wobble too just so he can gloat about it later when you find it difficult to pick yourself up off the kitchen floor and walk away once he's done with you.
Slowly, Steve withdraws again, glee lighting up his eyes when he pushes back in with the same force of that first sharp thrust and this time you fail to stop a short scream from ripping out of your throat, back arching from how well and hard he's pressing against that spot deep inside you.
"Something you wanna say, sweetheart?", he sneers and taunts, pleased when you struggle to put together a coherent sentence while trying to endure his unforgiving pace. "Spit it out before I stop being so nice."
You muster what you can and manage to whimper it out, feeling so worn out though you haven't even reached your climax yet.
"Cum inside me. Please", you tell him — beg him, fingers turning cold and numb from how hard your grasping the countertop.
He's nothing short of cocky when he hears you whine all desperate and spent, a smug sense of accomplishment washing over him when he sees the thick coating of slick and cream you've left on his cock as he watches it withdraw and disappear inside you one harsh thrust after the other.
And then you tell him the rest.
"M—miss you when you're gone. Need to —ngh. Need to feel you in me when you're not here", you manage to string the words together before letting out a sound that's somewhere between a gasp and a whine, the kind he'll think about later on his own, working himself up until he's got no choice but to pry it out of you again.
But this isn't one of those moments, no matter how much he'd liked the sounds falling from your parted, panting lips.
Steve loses his rhythm before he stills completely inside you, your words sinking in like nails piercing his skin.
This was it. The crux of last night's argument.
You missed Steve. He'd been working too hard lately and you'd grown concerned. With the stress of his job and the little sleep he'd had he'd grown defensive and you'd gotten irritated, both of you clashing when you should have been listening and working together.
When he had woken up this morning Steve had cooled down enough to know he'd been unfair to you the night before. He was usually the type to talk things out but he'd gotten swept up in how things happened to pan out today, wrapping an arm around you tenderly, the hand you'd bitten placed over your thumping heart. He nuzzles his chin onto your shoulder to get closer to you, the stubble he'd been unable to shave this morning scratching against your skin gently as he whispers into your ear with so much sincerity.
"I'm sorry— I'm so sorry."
The sound of him all earnest and ragged makes you melt in his hold because you know how much he means it — you can practically feel how much he means it as it sinks into your skin and reaches into your ribcage.
Like Steve, you would have been open to talking it out had this been a regular fight. This particular fight however had you dumping more fuel on to the fire that roared between you because it required more than just words to resolve everything. It needed more than swapped apologies for the two of you to make amends and return back to normal.
You really needed to fuck it out. All teeth and nails and sore, spent bodies.
"It's okay. I'm sorry too", you answer, a smile growing on your parted, panting lips. "Now fuck me, will you?"
It catches Steve off guard enough to make him snort, thankful that the worst of your fight is behind you now as he starts to pick up the pace again, firm but also tender with the way his lips move against your neck and his fingers brush and roll at your nipples.
"Going to make it up to you, baby. Gonna be around more. Gonna be here for you, okay?", he pants against your skin, all gravelly groans and grunts with his nails digging into the skin on your waist.
You moan out his name, using what little strength you feel you have left to push yourself back to meet his thrusts. "Steve, oh fuck... I'm so close. I need you— I fucking need you, please."
He snaps his hips against your ass again, drawing out a blissful shudder out of you. "Gonna make it all right but until then—", you feel him draw away from you a little bit then, his hands leaving your body as you realize that he's going through his pockets.
With his cock still buried inside you and throbbing, he pulls out his phone and begins dialing, his thrusts commencing again, steady and deep enough to make your whole body draw tight, your release within reach.
"Try to keep it down while I call in sick, okay? Gonna have you all to myself today. Promise I'll keep you nice and full— gonna look so beautiful when you're dripping with me..."
Hair everywhere. He doesn't know how to dust, or that it's a chore that people do on a regular basis. The same with deep cleaning the kitchen sink. He's happy to do the laundry, but he doesn't separate whites from colors. It all goes in one load together and he hopes for the best. He can cook, but moves through the kitchen like a whirlwind.
The sex, though, has been great. Mind blowing, really. It's something about sharing a space. Waking up together every morning. Bodies seeking pleasure and comfort at any time. Everything is so new and wonderful. That part is perfect, until.
Until about a week in, when Eddie does something that's been niggling at the back of his mind for a while. He can't help it. He has to do it. You're in the afterglow of two amazing orgasms when he does it. You're curled up into his side as always, thinking about how perfect it is to be there. How lucky you are to have found a man like Eddie. How fucking sexy he is. Every part of him. Eddie pulls you a little closer into him, kisses your damp forehead, and throws the comforter over your head.
Eddie, your loving boyfriend, is dutch ovening you.
summary — you're a good catholic girl. always have been — even though you're dating eddie munson, who's the complete opposite of that. he's crude and vulgar, and his influence may just taint you entirely.
warnings tags — adult language. mentions of religion, talks of god. eddie hates god, but has a god kink. major blasphemy. reader has daddy issues. mentions of jason craver (ew i know). graphic details of smut: loss of virginity (virgin!reader) + corruption. oral (eddie receiving). f!ngering. slight degrading but more praise. wrong usage of a rosary.
Eddie Munson was merely the Devil in your parents eyes.
To you, he was the seventh heaven.
Crossing paths with him was not a mistake, but a blessing. Eddie took care of you, and loved you. He really loved you.
You met him through a friend who went to Hawkins with him, and you couldn’t perceive him as a bad boy, whatsoever. He was genuine and kind the second you and him met, asking questions about you that no other guy ever had done.
But you knew he was not the guy you could bring home to your parents. Your parents were aware of him, since your father was a Sheriff for the Hawkins department, and always got reports of him.
You couldn’t tell them about your infatuation for Eddie, and how your heart burned for him, belonged to him. You were more faithful to Eddie Munson than you were to your Catholicism, and for you to say that to your parents, would earn you a kick to church camp.
You couldn’t say that their sweet little girl was in love with Hawkins’ freak; that he had told her many ways he wanted to deprive her of innocence and purity; that he dreamed of her worshiping him under her cross.
And you dreamed of that, every Sunday, for the past many month.
You sat in between your father and mother as the Priest read from the bible, and you fiddled with the ending hem of your white, babydoll dress. You stared mindfully at the cross, your head drawing the image of Eddie taking your virginity, rupturing your virtue, right underneath it.
You did feel a bit of guilt when you thought such lewd things, and you did blame Eddie for it. You felt even worse thinking of them in church, where you were supposed to be devoting your love and soul to the Lord, not a wild man.
“Hebrews 13:4 says, ‘Marriage is to be held in honor among all, and the marriage bed is to be undefiled; for fornicators and adulterers God will judge’”, the Priest spoke confidently, eyes glancing up to everyone for a second.
You swallowed thickly, fingers gripping tightly on your dress.
What the fuck, Jesus, you thought to yourself. I’m a fucking eighteen year old, of course I want to fornicate!
“Sweet dear,” your mother whispered, and you looked at her. “You look unwell. Are you okay?”
“Do you mind if I take a moment outside?” You wondered, brows drawing upwards. “It feels stuffy. Just for a minute, please.”
She sighed heavily, shaking her head. “Very well, then. Be quiet, dear.”
You thanked her, standing up, and quickly — but quietly — dismissed yourself out of the building, pushing open the wooden doors. The second you were outside, you groaned, the doors swinging close behind you.
“I’m damned for Hell,” you mumbled, rubbing your temple in frustration.
“So am I,” you heard a voice come from the side of you. You spin your head, finding Eddie there, smoking a cigarette. “For smoking of the Lord’s sacred grounds.”
“Eddie,” you sighed in relief, walking up to him, and he brought you into his embrace. He kissed the side of your head, before pulling back. “What are you doing here? If my parents — or anyone — sees you, they will make a fret out of it!”
Eddie chuckled. “Is that so?”
“I’m serious, Eds,” you frowned, throwing a small, playful slap to his shoulder. “We don’t need a scene.”
“Ah, I know, angel,” he cooed, kissing your forehead for assurance. “I just needed to see you. Was wondering what you are doing tonight?”
“I have homework, and finish my project on the Betrayal of Judas tonight,” you explained, annoyed at the mere thought of it. “It’s going to take all night. Why do you ask?”
“I wanted you to come by my trailer tonight,” Eddie said, and you smiled, but upset you had to decline his suggestion. “But it’s okay. I’m going to pick you up after school tomorrow, okay?”
“If Sister Josie sees you, she will report you to my parents,” you warned, and he only barked a laugh, throwing his head back. “I do not want to be sent to a camp because I was caught with you, Eds.”
“If your parents did that, I’d kidnap you,” Eddie stated, and you rolled your eyes, shooting a look at the church’s doors, eyes retreating back into his shortly after. “Go on in, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can do something fun.”
You raised a brow. “Like what?”
“Anything you wanted,” Eddie promised, giving your chin a soft pinch. “Be good for me, yeah?”
You hummed, and nodded. “Bye, Eds,” you gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he watched you walk all the way back into the church.
You hurried back to your row, perching yourself back in between your parents.
“Feel better?” Your mother asked.
You inhaled sharply. “Much better.”
Your fork poked at the vegetables that sat on your dinner plate, your eyes boring into it. It was always quiet on Sunday dinners, and you never said anything, unless your parents did.
Your mother poured herself another glass of red wine, and your father glanced at you, then his wife. “Got another report today about that Munson boy,” your father cracked the perfect quiet, and was visibly angered. “He’s been seen graffiting near Lovers Lake.”
“And who is reporting that?” Your mother questioned, sipping her beverage.
“Probably that ass kisser, Jason,” you mumbled, and your father slammed his hands down on the table.
“LANGUAGE!” Your father bellowed, and you dropped your fork onto your plate, slouching back into your chair. “Jason is a good boy. A good son of the Lord, and that’s the kind of guy you need in your life.”
“Jason literally tried to kiss me at the eighth grade school dance,” you recalled, scoffing. “Without my consent, may I add!”
“Well you two were children then,” your mother said, and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s a lovely boy. His friends are lovely too!”
You purse your lips. “His friends are dumb fucks.”
Okay, so maybe Eddie really did have a bad influence on you. Because you would never — for the love of God — curse in front of your parents, until now.
“What’s with the mouth?” Your father asked, and you glared at him. “You ought to pray tonight to the Lord tonight.”
“I’m just growing up, daddy,” you mocked, standing up from the dinner table, and threw your napkin on top of your plate. You stormed out of the dining room, straight into your bedroom, slamming your bedroom door behind you.
You dropped your body onto your bed, stuffing your face into your pillow. You wanted to scream and kick every object in your room, but refused not to do such a thing.
You were fine with laying on your bed, and smothering yourself with a pillow, until you heard gentle knocks at your window. You jolted up, your head craning toward the sound, and peeked at the window.
And you found Eddie, standing right outside your window.
You cursed under your breath, and stalked over to your window, snapping it open. Eddie smiled at the sight of you, though he could tell you were mystified by his unnoticed appearance.
“Do you want to kidnap me that badly?” You wondered, and he chuckled breathily, shrugging. “You can’t be here right now. My dad and I got into this fight.”
“About me, I suppose?” Eddie asked, allowing himself to jump into and through your bedroom window, and you didn’t stop him. “I know how your daddy likes to talk about me.”
“He said I should be with Jason, or someone like him,” you said, and he closed your bedroom window. “Because he is a son of the Lord.”
“Or the fucking Devil,” Eddie joked, and you snickered, but agreed. “I wonder what your dad would think if he knew you were with me, hm?”
“He would take his shotgun to you,” you admitted, and Eddie took a look around your bedroom. “Anyway, you can stay for a bit, but my father demands I pray for cursing.”
“Their little girl suddenly has a mouth of dirt?” Eddie teased, and you slapped his arm, which he laughed at. “Have I finally corrupted their innocent daughter?”
“Shut it, Munson,” you snapped, and he leaned against your desk, his eyes casting down at your Bible that sat on top of it.
“How about you pray right now? I won’t say a thing,” Eddie suggested, and you raised a brow, tilting your head. “You need to get it over with, anyway. You won’t even know I’m here.”
“You want to watch me pray?” You asked.
“It’d be nice, ya’know?” Eddie grinned, and he could tell you were completely gullible to what he was getting at. “Maybe I could learn a thing or two.”
You considered it, and simply agreed, walking up next to him. You grabbed your bible, and opened it up as you made your way over to your bed, kneeling at the end of it. Your knees brushed against your carpet-like flooring, looking up at your cross.
“Wait, Eds,” you paused, and he was already giving you your pink rosary. You thanked him, wrapping it around your fingers, and held it tightly in your hand.
Your cross hung right above your bed, right in the middle of your room, and your attention diverted from him, to the Bible.
Eddie simply watched and witnessed you speak and pray, and he felt sick for getting aroused to this pure sight of you, pleading for forgiveness from a man who supposedly ruled the Earth. He wanted to touch you, for his hands to memorize and caress every curve of your body.
His eyes unpeeled that baby pink tank top you wore, then went to your white, soft sweatpants. He wondered how it’d be like for you to plead and worship him in front of the Lord as he made you call him your God.
Maybe that was an awful, crude dream to play in his head, but he wanted to have your devotion turn to him, not the Lord.
The Lord couldn’t love and care for you the way he did.
Eddie went over to your bedroom door, and locked it, seeing how focused you were on the pages of pure fiction.
He kneeled behind you, and wrapped an arm around your torso, your body shuddering. He brought you closer to him, planting an innocent kiss on your shoulder.
“Eddie, I’m praying,” you pouted, setting your Bible down for a moment. “You said you wouldn’t disrupt.”
“Just keep going, love,” he mumbled, his tip of his nose brushing against your skin. “Keep praying.”
You rolled your eyes and did so, continuing to recite every word from the pages.
Eddie’s lips made their way to the nape of your neck, getting the sweet scent of your perfume. “What a good girl,” he whispered, his hot breath sending a symphony of shivers along your body. “Doing anything to stay pure and good.”
You nearly faltered, your concentration weakening. His hand trailed to your stomach, resting on your abdomen.
Eddie had touched you before, but not fully — not under your clothes. He even afforded to show you how to touch yourself, but Sister Tina from your school said you’d be banished to Hell for such a thing; so that set enough fear in.
Now, you craved for him to touch him. You didn’t know why in this particular moment — out of every heated, lusting moment — you wanted to feel him, to take you apart, and taint every part of your body, and brain.
You began to stutter as you spoke, Eddie’s hand crawling under your sweatpants, grazing over your clothed area. “Do you think the Lord wants me to touch you?” He taunted, and you hummed, your hands grasping harshly onto both sides of the Bible. “What do you think?”
“Eddie,” you managed to breathe out. “Eddie.”
“I want him to watch me take his devoted angel,” Eddie continued, his fingers creeping into your underwear, and your body flinched the second his fingers pressed against your bud. “Show him that he is no protector.”
You nodded, and Eddie grinned, resting his chin onto your shoulder.
You wanted Eddie. You needed Eddie.
“Keep reading, or I’ll stop,” Eddie warned, and you couldn’t hold onto a single thought as his middle finger curled into your unripe cunt. You moaned, squeezing your eyelids shut to the feeling of it. It was a single fucking finger in you, and you felt like pure bliss.
Eddie continued to pump the individual finger in you, slowly and surely as you tried to read more.
Everything was going smoothly, until a knock hit against your bedroom door.
Your father barked your name, you and Eddie freezing up. “Honey, why is your door locked?” Your father asked, shaking the doorknob. “Are you okay?”
Eddie smirked, his ring finger joining his middle, both pumping into a picked up pace.
“I–I’m praying!” You announced, trying to hold back your noises. “I wanted to pray in privacy, talk to the Lord!”
“Oh,” your father spoke from the other side of the door. “I’m glad to hear that, sweetie. I just wanted to say, you know I’m just looking out for you, right?”
Eddie’s fingers struck an unknown, but euphoric, spot in you, and you choked down a loud moan. “Yeah, daddy! I know that,” you responded, throwing your head back onto Eddie’s shoulder, and the Bible collapsed to the side of you.
Eddie chuckled quietly, using his free hand to wrap onto your throat. “What a filthy girl,” he whispered into your ear, grasping onto your neck.
“There’s bad guys out there, like Eddie Munson,” your father said, and Eddie wanted to bark a laugh. “If you were to be with a boy like that, I’d lose it. Boys only want one thing, and you know that.”
Another noise was lodged in your throat, Eddie having to squeeze your throat as a warning.
“I know, I know! Now, can I continue praying, please?” You asked, and Eddie’s finger shoved into you faster, and harder.
“Yes, of course! Your mother and I are heading to the Martins for a bit,” he acknowledged, and you had to slam your own hand over your mouth. “We should be back no later than 11. Be good!”
You kept your hand over your mouth until you heard the front door slam shut, and the second they did, you freed all your noises. Your chest heaved, your body becoming pudding against Eddie’s.
A hot sensation hit your stomach, and you found pleasure in it. It was an unfamiliar, enjoyable feeling. Your thighs trembled, and Eddie took a quick note to it, noticing how you were barely adjusting to this. “Are you going to cum?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with confusion.
“Cum?” You repeated.
“Does it feel like your stomach is on fire?” Eddie asked, his fingers making themselves deeper into your core, and you nodded. “That means you’re at your climax, love. That you are going to cum. It’s very normal.”
You still had a lot to learn, and Eddie was glad enough to teach you it all.
“Just let it go, sweetheart. Let it be free,” he cooed, and you hummed, your body convulsing the second your climax poured out of you, nearly dropping to the floor. He kept you up and close to him, and you panted, swallowing thickly.
Eddie’s fingers disappeared out of you, removing his hand completely from you. He placed his two fingers in his mouth, getting the sweet taste of you, and nearly moaned. “You taste fucking divine.”
You blushed, and eyed your Bible, picking it up. “I think I got enough forgiveness,” you joked, and Eddie hummed, helping you stand up with him. “I just…”
“Hm?” Eddie wondered, taking the Bible from you, and rested it on your desk. “What is it, sweet girl?”
“I want,” your voice quavered, your head hanging low in embarrassment. “I want more.”
Eddie placed his finger under your chin, bringing your head up to look him directly in the eye. “You want more? You have to be more specific, love,” Eddie mused, and you whimpered. “Use your words, please.”
“I want you to touch me more,” you only knew how to say it like that. Just paraphrase it in that way. “I want you to fuck me?”
“Is that a question or statement?” Eddie jested, and you whined more, embarrassed. “I’m kidding, sweet girl. I know what you mean, but are you sure?”
You nodded, smiling in confidence.
Eddie tugged you closer to his body, his lips smothering yours, and his hands laid on your hips, squeezing them gently. Your arms looped around his neck, holding him close to you, your body aching for him.
He led you over to your bed, sitting down onto it as you straddled his lap. Your hands cupped his cheeks, your rosary brushing against his skin, and you could feel him smile on your lips.
His lips fell off of yours, and he stripped off his upper half clothing, dropping them to your floor. Your eyes widened to the view of his body, his abs perfectly toned, and your finger drew around the tattoos he had on the left side of his chest.
“I like this tattoo,” you giggled at the Demon and spider tattoos, and he smiled, kissing the side of your head. “But I will always like your puppetmaster tattoo a lot more.”
“Gotta get you a tattoo one day,” Eddie said, and you shook your head. “Get you a pretty tattoo, just like mine, yeah?”
“I’ll think about it,” you said, and he hummed, his fingers hooking under your shirt. You let him take it off of you, undoing your bra by yourself. You hesitantly shimmed off your bra, the straps sliding down your arms, and onto your lap.
You put it on the ground with the other clothes, and you didn’t stare at Eddie as his eyes gawked at your breasts. You were insecure and worried – he was the first guy to ever see your bare body.
Panic slowly rolled in. “Is it okay? Am I okay?”
“Baby,” Eddie breathed, looking up at you, and then at your breasts. “You are so beautiful. This body, all mine to touch and mark.”
Your worries washed away, Eddie planting loving kisses on your breasts.
“Your body is fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, captivated and enthralled by your gracious beauty. “All fucking mine.” He carefully laid you on your back, on the bed, and hovered over you, his lips falling back onto yours. His body rutted against yours, hands at the waistband of your sweatpants,
“Take them off, Eds,” you breathed into the kiss, and his taste was gone for a moment as he listened, stripping off your sweatpants. You were left in your white cotton panties, and he took a second to unbuckle his belt, and then his pants, both landing on the ground.
You and Eddie were only left in your underwear, and you could feel a hard bulge brush against your inner thigh.
Oh, you thought to yourself. That.
“Are you sure you’re ready, doll?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with assuring, doe eyes, and he kissed your forehead. He reached over to his pants, grabbing his wallet from it, and pulled out a small wrapper from it.
You shivered, and your eyes bored into Eddie as he took off his boxers, and you tensed the second you glimpsed at his cock.
You were about to pray to God again, due to the overwhelmingly huge size of Eddie.
Eddie opened up the wrapper, taking out the condom, and slipped it on. You took off your panties and kicked them off, throwing your rosary too, seeing how they joined all other clothing items on the floor.
“It’s going to hurt at first; if you want me to stop, just say so,” Eddie said, and one of his hands held onto yours for comfort as his other was used to guide him into you. You could feel the head of him at your cunt, and you squeezed his hand whilst his cock made its way into you, slowly and bit by bit.
Your back arched, gasping aloud to the feeling of him fulfilling you. Eddie’s hand grasped onto your jaw, holding onto it, forcing you to hold eye contact with him. “Just take me, love,” he mused, and you whimpered in response.
You were being easily stretched and torn apart by his cock, your virtue draining out of you with every brush of him coming in and out of you. You continued to hold onto his hand, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand for assurance you were safe.
Eddie kept a steady, delicate pace, taking a clear eye to how you were already in shambles. He was simply dispossessing you of your longing purity, your body and devotion belonging to him now.
This was Seventh Heaven to you — this was all of the joy and exhilaration you longed for.
Your cunt adjusted to his size, and your hand let go of him, setting both of them onto his shoulders. “More, Eddie. Please,” you pleaded, and he began to drill himself deeper into you, his hands pressing onto your stomach for support.
You squealed, his eyes on the way his cock thrusted into you. Your body elevated upwards, and your glossy eyes caught a glance of the cross above your bed.
If this corruption was so cruel, so vile, why did it feel so fucking amazing?
Flares of euphoria spurred throughout your body as wanton, lewd noises elicited out of your mouth, and filled your bedroom. Embers of pure, raw desire were in Eddie’s eyes the second they fell back into yours, his breath shuddering his rib cages.
A firestorm grew in your stomach, and your nails dug into Eddie’s shoulder, earning a harsh moan out of him. “‘M gonna cum,” you told him, your chest falling up and down rapidly. “I need to cum, Eds.”
“What a sensitive whore you are,” he taunted, and you groaned, the fire spreading into your thighs. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum for your God.”
Your lids sealed shut as your climax peaked and rushed out of you, your body moving with a hard jolt to it. Eddie nearly laughed mockingly at you, your delicate, unripe body, now sweating and shaking from sinful sex.
You barely had collected the fact Eddie referred to him as your God, but you didn’t hate it.
You liked it.
“I’m going to fuck your pretty mouth,” Eddie said, and helped you sit up as he took off the condom. “I always told you I’d find a way for you to worship me. Get on your knees, angel.”
Eddie tossed his condom into your trash bin, turning his attention back onto you.
You obeyed, and stumbled to your bedroom floor, collapsing down onto your knees. Eddie seized your rosary, and took the opportunity to tie up your wrists with the symbolized jewelry. You whined, tugging at your hostaged wrists.
“Open your mouth for me,” Eddie said, standing in front of you. Your mouth popped open, and he shoved two fingers into your mouth, creeping them to the back of your throat. You gagged the second his fingers hit your throat, your eyes watering.
You stared up at him with pure and pious eyes, that were almost daunting, too.
“How are you going to be able to take my cock, when you can barely take my fingers, angel?” He asked, and a tear trickled down your cheek. He was amused by this single tear. “You worship me?”
You nodded as his fingers left your mouth, his knuckles brushing along your cheek. “Yes, I worship you. Only you,” you assured, giving the edge of his palm a delicate, small kiss. “You’re my religion.”
He chuckled. “Such a good little thing you are.”
Eddie’s fingers curled into your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. His hips pushed forward, his cock stuffing your opened mouth.
You remembered your friend told you about blowjobs — that you make sure your teeth don’t touch, or it makes it unpleasant. Your friend wasn’t as faithful or pure as you were, only going to Catechism to please her parents.
Eddie’s cock continuously hit the back of your throat, drawing inchorenet gargles from you as tears lined at the brim of your eyes. Your throat was brutalized, yet you soaked into the pain of it, taking pleasure in every second of it.
Your eyes rolled back the deeper his cock went, his teeth gritting together, and moaned your name like a mantra.
Eddie’s head fell back, his hips snapping into your face, and you gurgled, trying your best to breathe out of your nostrils. “Shit, shit, I’m close,” he told you, and that was the only warning you were given, nothing else. “Keep your mouth steady and open for your God, baby.”
His climax flooded into your mouth, your tongue getting a salty taste of his high, and he pushed his cock out of your mouth. He tried to catch his breath, sweat beading at his forehead and body, his fingers unhooking from your hair.
“Let me see, doll,” Eddie said, and you happily showed him the way his cum sat on your tongue. “Mhm, that’s a good girl. Swallow it.”
You closed your mouth, taking it all down at once, and he kissed the top of your head. He unknotted the rosary, and your wrists were glad to be free.
Eddie sat the jewelry on your bed stand, and helped you up, sitting you down on your bed afterwards. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” He panicked, and you shook your head, a few strands of your hair matted to your teary, sweating cheeks.
“Did I do okay?” You asked, and he frowned, cupping your cheeks, caressing them lovingly with his thumbs.
“You were wonderful, sweet girl. So good,” he reassured, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and dressed. You still have that project.”
