The fifth of six 666 word ficlets to celebrate my 666 subscribers on AO3. @gloster asked for Steve in a tiny bikini. Did i mention that I love my followers? Perfect, feral flock of perverts.
Rated: T
Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Pool party; Steve Harrington in a bikini; Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington; Eddie Munson is a horny shit; Eddie Munson is in danger; Getting together; Fade to black
Eddie thinks he's suffering heat stroke. It's the only explanation. He's seeing stuff that isn't really there.
Because there's no way Steve Harrington really just opened the garden gate clad in a pair of tiny, cut-off jeans and a fucking bikini top of all things.
“Eddie, hi!” Steve beams. It's the kind of bikini that hardly even deserves the name. Two neon-colored triangles of fabric held together by bits of string. It hardly covers Steve's impressive pecs, let alone his chest hair. “Come on in, everybody else is already here.”
Eddie trails behind him on numb legs. A bit of string matching the bikini top is poking out from the waistline of the shorts.
“Henderson,” Steve yells. “I said no food in the pool.”
Robin is sprawled in a lounge chair, patting the empty seat beside her.
“Popsicle?” she asks when Eddie sits. He blindly snatches one from the offered cooler. Steve is standing by the edge of the pool, hands on his hips, arguing about something with Henderson. The bikini strings are struggling. Eddie understands.
“Why is Steve…?”
Robin shrugs.
“We made a bet. He lost, so he gets to wear the bikini all day long. The shorts weren't actually part of the deal, but they had a hard time containing…” She gestures meaningfully at the crotch of her own swim shorts. “So I allowed it.”
“Huh,” Eddie says. His popsicle is dripping down his wrist. “That's very… considerate of you.”
She smiles.
“That's just the way I am. Speaking of which.” She plucks her sunglasses from the top of her head and holds them out to him. “You'll need these if you're gonna keep staring like that.”
*
“Thanks for helping me clean up,” Steve says. “I appreciate it.”
“Sure,” Eddie mutters, adding another dirty plate to the wobbly pile in his arms. “Somebody had to, right?”
The sun is setting, and the kids have gone home. So has Robin, quoting a mean case of sunburn.
Steve is still wearing the damn bikini. He's popped the button on the shorts open after the barbecue, revealing the sun-bleached trail of hair leading down from his bellybutton to the colorful fabric of the bikini panties. Eddie thinks he's going insane.
“Eddie?”
He flinches. Steve is just in time to catch the plates before they can slip from his hands.
“Are you okay?” Steve asks, setting the plates back on the table so that he can lean in and put a hand to Eddie’s forehead. “You're burning up. Do you need to sit? You're not having a heat stroke, are you?”
"I'm fine," Eddie stammers. “It's all your fault, anyways.”
Steve, who was just about to push him down into a lounge chair, tilts his head at him.
“My fault? How?”
Eddie groans.
“It's that damn bikini, man. Like, why would you- … What kind of bet did you even lose?”
Steve blinks. Then, his quizzical expression slowly makes way for a sly grin.
“Oh, that. Robin bet me I couldn't go an entire night without whining about how much I wanted to get in your pants. I held out for almost two hours, which was long, admittedly. I don't know why I agreed to it.”
“Yeah well,” Eddie grouses. “Next time maybe think before making bets you can't win, because this is just- … Hold on a sec, can you repeat that?”
This time, Steve does push him down into the chair. Eddie doesn't resist. The view is kind of spectacular from down here. Especially now, with Steve bracketing his hands on the armrests to lean over him.
“Depends. Is it working?”
“Dunno,” Eddie croaks. Maybe the heat is messing with his head after all. “I'd be more concerned for your pants, to be honest. They're barely holding out as it is.”
Steve considers this for a moment.
“Works for me,” he then concedes, pulling Eddie up by the collar of his shirt and towards the house.
The sixth and final 666-word ficlet to celebrate my 666 subscribers on AO3. @mrsjellymunson asked for a glimpse into the future of the Batter Up! boys - and I was so happy to comply, you have no idea!!
Rated: M
Tags: Rockstar Eddie; Punk!Steve; Famous Musicians AU; Secret Relationship; Rivals; Angry Making Out
“Eddie! Over here!”
A woman is waving from the edge of the red carpet. Behind her, some poor cameraman is struggling under the weight of his equipment. Gareth groans.
“Eddie, no. You've given enough interviews, let’s go.”
Jeff shakes his head. "You still think you can change him? Cute. Let him bask in his victory.”
Eddie waves at them as they disappear into the venue, then saunters over to the reporter.
“Eddie, you won Song of the Year for the second time. How are you?”
“Excellent,” he replies, throwing the sign of the horns at the cameras. “And immensely grateful to our fans. You rock!”
“Speaking of rocking,” the reporter smiles. “You didn’t just accept the award, but also presented your newest song. You've been teasing a collaboration with another artist for a while, but I think nobody was prepared for that reveal. How was the idea born?”
An arm wraps around Eddie’s shoulders.
“Easy. He’s obsessed with me, so when the occasion presented itself, he jumped at it. Right, Munson?”
“The fuck?” Eddie snarls, pushing Steve off. He's still wearing the mesh shirt and kilt from the stage, but has added a suit jacket covered in pins and studs. His legs are adorned in steel-capped boots and a pair of fishnet stockings. Crimson red, matching the tips of his mohawk. “Can't you go five minutes without hogging all of the attention?”
“Steve!” the reporter chirps. “Congrats on making Album of the Year.”
“Thanks,” Steve winks. “Couldn't let Eddie win everything. I've seen what it does to his ego.”
“That's right, you two are from the same town. Rumor has it that you even clashed in a battle of the bands.”
“Well,” Eddie smirks. “The rumors are entirely true. I won, by the way. Write that down.”
“Wow,” Steve mutters. “Hot, talented, and modest.”
The reporter grins. “While we're on the subject of rumors, some fans believe your rivalry is just a publicity stunt. Fanfiction authors have even gone as far as-”
“Gotta go,” Eddie yells. “My band's calling. Thank you, it was a pleasure.”
Steve wiggles his fingers at the reporter as Eddie hauls him away.
“Stop getting your panties in a twist every time someone implies this,” he says as Eddie stomps into the nearest bathroom. “They'll believe it's true.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, shut up,” Eddie growls, crowding him against the sink.
Steve sneers into his face. “Make me.”
Eddie fists both hands into his hair and shoves his tongue in his mouth.
“What the hell was that?” he hisses when they part for air. “We agreed to keep it low profile.”
Steve rolls his eyes, grinding himself against the leg that Eddie has pushed between his thighs. Eddie can feel his dick through the fishnets.
“Says the one who's been prancing around the cameras like a peacock on steroids all day.”
“Oh, honey,” Eddie purrs. “Don't be like that. We all know how you feel about cocks.”
They share a look. Steve nudges his chin towards the nearest stall.
“I swear to God, Munson, if you don't get us in there in the next ten seconds, I'll-”
“Are you out of your fucking minds?”
They flinch apart like a pair of caught-out school kids. Gareth scowls at them from the open door.
“Everyone is looking for you. Can you keep it in your pants?”
Eddie groans. “C'mon, Gare, give me five more minutes. I have a good thing going here.”
Gareth gives him a look. “He's your literal husband, you clown. Get your thing going at the hotel. Now straighten that stupid Scottish skirt and move your asses.”
The door slams shut.
“Stop laughing, you asshole,” Eddie says. “I don't know why I married you.”
“As I said,” Steve winks, squeezing his ass. “Because you're obsessed with me. Now hurry, I don't want Gareth to out us.”
He's right, Eddie thinks, trailing after him. The rivalry act is excellent publicity. Plus, the fanfic authors would have a field day if they found out.
The third of six 666-word ficlet requests for my 666 AO3 subscriptions celebration. @eternal-sunflowers asked for sub!Eddie and some overstim, hrrrrrr...
“You were pretty tonight,” Steve murmurs. “You know that, right?”
Eddie opens his mouth, but all that spills out is a shaky moan. His body is buzzing with electricity. His fingers. His toes. His spent, overly sensitive cock.
Steve laughs, the sound rumbling right down to that molten pool of pleasure at the base of Eddie's spine, and curls his fingers.
“Sorry, didn’t catch that.”
“Pretty,” Eddie gasps. His bound hands twitch. His feet grapple for purchase on the mattress, trying to wiggle away from the pleasure that's trying to pull him under. Steve puts one hand on his hip and pushes him back into the sheets. “‘m pretty.”
“Like you were born for the stage," Steve coos, and adds a third finger. Eddie is still wide open from his cock and the dildo, and sloppy with both lube and cum, so it slides in easily. “You know when you're even prettier?”
“Stevie, please-”
Steve scissors his fingers, and the words turn into a desperate keen.
“I asked you a question, honey.” Steve kisses the tears off his face. “And I'm sure you know the answer, so …”
“When I cum for you,” Eddie sobs. His spine tries to arch off the mattress, but Steve gently holds him in place. “Please, Steve, I can't. It's too much, I can't do another.”
“Hm, that's weird.” Steve pauses, watching him gasp for breath. “I thought you could go all night?”
Eddie groans. Fuck, he did say that. Or yelled it, more like. For the entire venue to hear, while the crowd was screaming for another encore.
He should've known what he had gotten himself into the moment he looked down at the first row and saw Steve's smile.
“Now,” Steve says, making a show of checking the clock. The night is still young, wouldn't you say?”
Eddie laughs. He brought this onto himself, didn't he?
“Yeah. You're right.”
“Always am, baby,” Steve singsongs, kissing down his neck and chest and stomach while he continues to fuck him with his fingers. “Now stop fighting it. Just relax. There you go. Feels good, right?”
It does. It always does.
Maybe he shouldn't be this obvious about it, Eddie thinks, while Steve slowly guides him towards the edge of his pleasure once again. Maybe he should make him work a little harder for it - he’s getting way too smug about it all. The way he can play Eddie just as Eddie plays his guitar. Knows all the right spots to hit, at all the right times, to draw all the right sounds from him. Knows just what to do and just what to say to turn Eddie into a sobbing, blubbering mess, begging to cum for a third time.
And then Steve sucks his cock into his mouth and curls his fingers just so, and Eddie shatters into a million tiny pieces.
There shouldn’t be much left - not after the first two times - but it still hits him with an intensity that turns his entire body into a live wire, filling his vision with starbursts. Steve drinks down the few watery drops that spill out, pressing his tongue into the slit to get every last bit. The sensation alone almost jolts Eddie off the mattress - thankfully his hands are still tied to the headboard - and he laughs and sobs at the same time. Steve purrs, propping himself up on one elbow to watch him.
“There’s my pretty baby. Feel good?”
Eddie squirms. Steve has this way of looking at him like he’s the most beautiful thing in the world, and it leaves him weirdly self-conscious, especially now, on the come-down.
“So good,” he slurs, and Steve’s face breaks into a delighted smile.
“I’m glad, honey,” he mutters, sweeping Eddie’s sweaty curls from his forehead to kiss the bridge of his nose. Eddie melts into the touch, every limb boneless and heavy. “Now rest. Catch your breath. I still want to make you cum with my tongue.”
The fourth of six 666-word ficlets to celebrate my 666 subscribers on AO3. @spectrum-spectre , completely unsurprisingly, asked for merperson porn, so here's the Just Add Water boys getting it on.
Rated: E
Tags: Established relationship; mer!Steve; Pool sex; Mermaid anatomy
“Honey, I’m home!” Eddie hollers.
Silence follows, and he cringes.
It’s not technically his home, but ever since Mrs. Harrington figured out that Steve and him were more than a summer fling, and that Eddie could be trusted with the family secret, he has been coming and going as he pleases. And besides, it’s not like Steve’s parents are even home. They’re on a yacht in the Mediterranean sea, looking into some aquatic issue that went right over Eddie’s head when Steve explained it. Because, as it turns out, their random trips to beautiful and exotic locations are not so much vacations as missions to protect the world’s oceans and their watery secrets from harm.
Maybe Steve had to join them?
Maybe they’re back early and he brought himself into one hell of an awkward situation?
Maybe he should back out and try again - deny any of this ever happened.
“Outside.”
Eddie wrinkles his brow and follows the voice. The patio doors are open. He steps outside, shivering and drawing his flannel tighter around himself. The wind has got a mean, cold bite to it, and the leaves are turning brown.
Something splashes.
He turns just in time to see a huge tail fin dip under the surface of the pool.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “Hey, fish boy! What are you doing?”
Steve emerges, propping his arms up on the edge. The scales scattered all over his naked skin glisten green and gold in the setting sun. The fish tail moves in the water, fins like so many layers of tulle.
“Swimming? What does it look like?”
“Now?” Eddie scowls. “I thought we said movies and cuddles on the couch.”
“I had an urge." Steve lazily floats backwards. “It's been too long. Join me?”
“The fuck?” Eddie sputters. “What urge? You spent an entire day at the lake like two weeks ago. And I sure as hell am not coming in there with you. I'm freezing my ass off as it is, there's no way I'm-”
Steve looks at him through his lashes.
His fins quiver.
“Oh,” Eddie breathes. “That urge.”
Steve smiles. “You coming in?”
Eddie has never stripped faster in his life.
The nose-dive is a bad idea - he's a clumsy swimmer and an even clumsier diver. The water is so cold he sees stars, leaving him disoriented and panicked, but only for a second. Then, a pair of strong arms wraps around his shoulders, and that long, muscular tail presses in between his legs, and he knows he's safe.
By the time they emerge, kissing and gasping for air (well, in Eddie’s case, because unlike certain people, he can't breathe underwater), he's fully hard, and that warm, slick fold between the fins on Steve's hips welcomes him in.
“Damn, sweetheart,” Eddie gasps as they find their rhythm in the water. Steve effortlessly keeps both of them afloat, even with his eyes rapidly clouding over with pleasure. “You were right. It really has been too long.”
Don't get him wrong, they do their fair share of messing around, in all possible locations and positions, but this? The sensation of that tail twitching under him as Steve clenches around his cock? His boyfriend is a goddamn miracle, and he's one lucky guy for getting to experience it.
*
“Well?” Steve asks, a while later, when they're both floating on the surface - Steve with slow, lazy strokes of his fins and Eddie lying across his chest and tail in a boneless heap. “Aren't you glad you came in?”
“Glad I came in you,” Eddie snickers. Steve pulls the tail out from under him and he yelps, struggling to stay afloat. “The fuck? You trying to drown me?”
Steve laughs, catching him and lifting him out of the pool like he weighs nothing.
“Never,” he winks, while Eddie gapes and shivers. “I like you too much. Now dry off and go inside. I'd love a second round on the couch, but with different parts.”
The first of six 666-word ficlets to celebrate 666 subscribers on my AO3. For @steddieas-shegoes
Rated: T
Tags: Fantasy AU; dragon Eddie; king Steve; Established relationship; Babies; Innuendo; Fade to black
Notes: Set in the same universe as Hic sunt dracones. If there's one thing about Mic, it is that she'll request dragonfucking. The fucking is merely implied here, but I hope you still enjoy it. ❤️
It’s one of those days.
The Lenoran ambassador has announced his departure for the next morning. Which is great, on the one hand, because Steve thinks that if he shows him Princess Angela’s portrait once more, he’ll smash something, all rules of etiquette and hospitality be damned. On the other, it means he has to host the farewell feast - one of his least favorite royal duties by far. By the time he manages to slip away, it’s past nightfall.
His feet are heavy as he climbs the staircase to his tower and quietly opens the door to the nursery. He hasn’t seen his daughter all day. She’ll be asleep already, but he at least wants to check in on her. Sit by her bed for a few blissful minutes and watch her chest rise and fall while-
He freezes on the threshold.
Mari certainly is asleep. On the carpet. In the middle of the room.
So is the giant, black dragon curled around her. She’s pressed flush against its snout, fingers wrapped around a fang as long as her arm, and smiling in her sleep.
Steve chuckles and tiptoes closer.
“You know,” he whispers, prying her loose so that he can carry her to bed and tuck her in. She’s surprisingly strong for a kid her age, and surprisingly stubborn, even while asleep. “Most little girls are scared of monsters.”
“She’s not any little girl though." A wing wraps around him, only to be joined by a pair of arms a moment later. “She’s every bit like her father.”
There were times where Steve would’ve countered with some sort of self-depreciating remark. Now, he just smiles and tilts his head, giving Eddie better access to the bite mark on his shoulder. It’s hidden under the fabric of his shirt now, but that doesn’t stop his dragon from mouthing at it.
“I wonder about that, sometimes,” he admits. “I was scared of so many things, back then. But somehow never of you.”
Eddie purrs, and the invisible bond that ties them together shivers with it. “That’s because the moment you saw me, your soul knew.”
He continues to trail kisses and bites up the side of Steve’s neck, and Steve turns, melting into the touch.
“There’s no need for you to feel guilty, beloved.”
This time, Steve can’t keep in the sarcastic laugh.
“Oh no? Before Mari was born, I swore that I’d be there for her. That, even with my people and my country demanding my attention, I’d always find time for her. That I wouldn’t let her grow up as alone and unloved as I was, and-”
“And she isn’t,” Eddie says. “Robin was out in the gardens with her all afternoon, the kids won’t stop fighting over who gets to read to her at story time, and Chrissy sang her to sleep. She’s fine, even without you showering her in fatherly affection every hour of every day.”
Steve pouts, and Eddie claims his lips for a hungry kiss.
“Every hour of every day was never the goal,” he claims when they part. “She’s competing for my time with a very attention-hungry dragon, after a- Are you insane? Quit that!”
Eddie grumbles, but obediently removes his hands from where they’ve started to untie Steve’s breeches.
“I know, I know. The baby mustn’t be left alone, because she must feel cared for and loved at all times. Unless we wanna care for and love each other, because then we must suddenly leave the room and lock the doors.”
“Exactly,” Steve nods, grabbing a strand of curly hair between two fingers to tug his mate out of the room. “Now come on.”
Eddie’s eyes go surprised and eager. “Wha- … You mean … really? I thought you wanted to-”
Steve tosses his daughter one last look.
“She’s sleeping like a rock as it is, I’ll check in on her tomorrow morning. Right now, I could really do with some of that love and care you mentioned.”
Her name is Marigold Calida Harrington, crown princess of Hawkins, and she can't fall asleep without dragon cuddles.
The second of six 666-word ficlets I gave away to celebrate 666 subscribers on AO3. @after-the-end-times wanted to know what Eddie and Steve in the Kiss That Ring verse are up to, and I was happy to check in on them.
Rated: E
Tags: Mob AU; Mob Boss Eddie; Mob Boss Billy; Billy Hargrove being an asshole; Dark Eddie; Dark Steve; Intrigue; Nudity; Explicit sexual content
“Mr. Hargrove,” Eddie greets the man who has just stepped into the séparée. Behind the curtains, a naked body is writhing around a pole at the center of the dance floor. “I was starting to fear you were standing me up.”
“I'm a busy guy.” Hargrove ignores the offered hand to fish a cigarette from his pocket. “You know how it is, Eddie. I may call you Eddie, right?”
“Sure, Billy.” Eddie’s hand twitches for his knife holster, only to come up blank. The club allows no weapons, and he can't say he doesn't get it. With their clientele, they'd probably have a dozen crime scenes on their hands every week. “Have a seat. I took the liberty of ordering a beer for you. I hear the wine and champagne selection is excellent, but I never really got the appeal.”
“Beer’s fine.” Hargrove saunters over to the plush armchairs at the center of the room. “I'm not much for that fancy shit myse- … Oh, will you look at that? I didn’t know this place allowed pets.”
Anyone less experienced would probably miss the split second before his face shifts to a smile. Eddie catches it all, though. The wide-eyed surprise, the startled intake of breath. The way that smile is just a little too sharp around the edges.
“They allow anything if you pay accordingly,” he claims, sliding back into his chair. “And besides, he's well trained. Aren't you, sweetheart?”
“Yes, sir,” Steve replies. He's still on his knees, hands resting in his lap, eyes cast down. The perfect picture of obedience.
“The rumors are true, then?” Hargrove’s eyes rake over the boy’s naked body. “About your takeover of Harrington’s firm. What you did to his son?”
Eddie takes a sip of his beer. Steve suppresses a wince as he cards a hand through his hair, a little too harshly.
“Let's just say he knows his place now. Right, darling?”
“Yes, sir.”
Eddie pinches his cheek, leaving the skin red and flushed, and turns his attention back on Hargrove.
"Let's talk business. I want Jason Carver gone, and so do you. If make use of each other's resources, we can reach that goal more easily.”
“There's certain resources of yours that I wouldn't mind using,” Hargrove mutters. This time, Steve lets out an audible wince as Eddie’s hand fists into his hair. “Alright, I’ll bite. Tell me more about your plan.”
*
“What did we say about hair pulling?”
“Easy, big boy,” Eddie laughs. It hasn’t been ten seconds since Hargrove left. “He might still be around.”
“Like he’d hear anything over that obnoxious excuse for what they call music here,” Steve grumbles, climbing into Eddie’s lap. Eddie shifts in his seat to accommodate him, hands cupping that deliciously firm ass.
“So ... Thoughts?”
Steve, who is undoing Eddie’s belt, pauses.
“He's dangerous,” he concedes. “But he's also vain about it, which makes him stupid. He also wants me, which makes him even stupider. We can use that to our advantage.”
Eddie's vision turns scarlet.
“What are you suggesting?” he snarls, digging his nails into Steve's jaw, hard enough to leave crescent marks in the soft flesh. “That I let him fuck you? I didn’t make you mine to share you with anyone.”
Steve wraps a hand around his cock. Eddie hisses - he didn't even realize his fly coming open - and those pretty lips curl into the poison-and-honey smile he first fell for.
“I'm suggesting,” Steve murmurs, and starts to stroke him, “that we dangle the possibility before him like a carrot. With any luck, it'll keep him distracted just long enough for you to ram your knife into his back.”
Eddie’s rage shifts into something different.
“You like me ramming things into places, honey?”
“You know I do.” Steve kisses him, long and filthy, and shifts his weight so that he can sink down on his cock. “Now shut up and fuck me. I've heard enough of your chatter for one night.”
