°•*Petal*•°

♡21♡requests open♡૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა♡

[theflowerrooms]

!🤍 Petal’s Masterlist 🤍!

I’m Petal! I write reader insert fics, mostly for Stranger things, X-Men, and Criminal Minds. (Peter Maximoff, Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, and Spencer Reid own my heart)

All of my work will have warnings included in them for your comfort!

Requests are always open! As are my asks and usually my dm’s <3

DNI~ MAPS, bigots, mean ppl

My work is not intended to be read by minors !!

All of my work will be tagged with ‘petalwrites’

character masterlists;

Peter Maximoff Masterlist (x-men)

Spencer Reid Masterlist (criminal minds)

Eddie Munson Masterlist (stranger things)

Steve Harrington Masterlist (stranger things)

Miguel O’Hara Masterlist (across the spiderverse)

non-specific masterlists;

X-Men Masterlist (x-men)

requesting !!!

to request | rules

Current works in progress;

🌸fluff, 🤍smut, 🐇angst, 🩰dark themes

N/A

divider by @bluviddes <3

[theflowerrooms]

his game fans- i’m so sorry i haven’t kept up with the series, for the longest time i had a plan for how the story goes, but i’ve really lost passion for the planned ending and i don’t like it!!

what do YOU want to see in the last few instalments of HG?? literally any suggestions are welcome

[theflowerrooms]

could you add me to the taglist for the dark!spencer x kidnapped! reader fic?? i love it so much i can’t wait for more chapters!!

absolutely yes!! there’s actively one in the works <3 i really appreciate any positive feedback i receive on HG, i feel like i’ve really lost my footing with that fic and things like this REALLY help with the missing motivation, i appreciate you 🩷

[theflowerrooms]

guys i’ve been accepted to college 😛😛😛

[luveline]

Imagine mermaid reader was abit of a klepto like she likes stealing from shops when they’re outside. She just doesn’t see anything wrong with it, she sees something small she likes the look of and it doesn’t look like anyone owns it, it’s going in her pocket. I think her and Eddie could bond over that. Maybe Steve tries teaching her it’s wrong so she pretends to stop doing it but she’s got a little treasure stash she likes to show Eddie when he comes over

beyond the sea au | fem, 1.2k

“What’s this?” Eddie asks, his voice silky and funny in his strange way. “What use do you have for one of these, my slippery friend?”

You giggle as Eddie unearths your latest treasure, a heavy circular glass thing that shines a thousand lights when the sun hits it from the window, sending lines of white across the bedroom floor. “What is?” you ask. 

“This is an ashtray, sweetheart.” Eddie lays it down beside the rest of your collected treasures. “Ashtray. Us humans, we do this weird gross amazing thing called smoking. You smoke a cigarette. Shit, I’ll show you. Always wanted to take a drag out of Harrington’s huge window.”

Eddie turns from Steve’s bed and leans up on his knees to unlatch the window. He pushes it wide, giving you an unmarred view of the pool in the Harrington backyard, and the trees bordering the fence, closing it in. He takes a box out of his jacket pocket and flips open the lid, exposing a couple of long, skinny things. 

“This is a cigarette.” Eddie pulls one out of the box, patting his ass with his other hand before unearthing a neon green plastic rectangle. When he flicks it, a small flame like the oven burner jolts from the very top. “This is a lighter. I light the cigarette,” —his tongue pokes out of his mouth as the flame eats the end of one of his cigarettes— “and then you smoke it.”

He brings it to his mouth. You startle and try to grab it, but Eddie holds his hand in front of your face and laughs when you reel back. “Sorry,” he says, coughing, “should’ve warned you. It’s okay. Doesn’t hurt, okay? It’s not hurting.”

Eddie smiles around the cigarette, even as the end burns red hot and starts to shiver. You watch in perplexity as it begins to burn away. 

“Okay,” he says, shooting a stream of smoke from his mouth and out of the window, “can I have?”

You pass him the ashtray. Eddie hits the cigarette against its glass rim until the burned end falls into the bowl. 

“See?” he asks.

“Eugh,” you grumble, disliking the smell and the sight of all that soot on your nice shiny bowl. “Wash.”

“That’s what it’s for!”

“Wash, Eddie!”

“Okay, okay! Alright. I’ll go wash it, jeez.”

“What are you guys doing?” Steve asks, breezing past the doorway with a wrinkled nose. Eddie almost winds himself pelting his cigarette out of the window, but Steve’s already sniffing the air. “No way, dude, you’re smoking in my room?” 

“I’ve seen you smoke, Harrington!”

“I quit! Don’t you know how rude it is to smoke in somebody’s house when they’re quitting? It’s like you were born in a barn.” Steve throws himself unceremoniously onto his bed and covers his eyes with his hand. “I’m salivating.” He peeks between his fingers. “Wait, what is all that stuff?”

You try to shove your things back into the fabric bag Steve gave you a few days ago, grimacing. “No stuff!”

“I see stuff! What is that, where did you get that?” Steve hangs his head off the edge of the bed. “Baby, I told you you can’t keep doing this! You– I saw you put that one back!”

You look away from him, mumbling pathetically. He did tell you to put back the watch, and he explained why you can’t just take things, but humans have so much in these places and, in the ocean (besides the occasional kelp farm) stuff that shines is first come first served. You only need to be fast and dexterous, and you’re both of those things. 

“Steve, let the girl steal!” Eddie protests, swinging his arm around your shoulder easily. “It’s not like she’s hurting anyone.”

“Dude!”

“Who’s gonna miss a glass ashtray and an egg cup painted like Mickey Mouse?”

“That’s not the point! She doesn’t have to steal, she knows I’ll just buy her whatever she wants me to get, she only has to put it in the goddamn basket.” Steve glares at you. “We had a deal, bub.”

“What deal?” you ask, though you remember. 

“You stop stealing and I make croquettes in the morning!”

He made croquettes again today, as promised, but you’ve let down your end of the bargain. Steve’s right. A strange weary guilt starts to work its way through your chest.

“Sweetheart, do not listen to him,” Eddie says, giving you a shake when he spots your growing distress, “I will literally take you places for you to do this. There’s this one Reaganite bastard security guard who got too good at recognising me in my jock wig but he won’t know you, and they have the sickest keychains—”

“Munson, do you shoplift?” Steve asks, eyes squinted like he has a headache. You reach up to rub at his forehead gently. 

“No, but my dear old dad did, Steve, you know this. I had the coat with the most pockets, duh.” 

“Eddie, wash please,” you say pointedly.

Steve grins. “He stinks, right?”

Eddie grabs the ashtray and leans into you to give you a one-armed squeeze. A quick hug. He’s the only person on land who’s ever held you that wasn’t Steve, and he does it so differently, but it’s nice. “Sorry, babe. Washing it as we speak.”

Steve flowers down at you when he’s gone. “You promised,” he says. 

“Steve, for you?” you ask, unveiling one of your treasures, a red, shiny toy car, with miniature wheels that move. It’s heavy in your hand. “Want give, Steve mad, no give.”

“I’m not mad at you,” he says. 

“Mad.”

“Not mad, baby, but you can’t keep stealing. I don’t want you to get in trouble. Other people will be mad at you, people I can’t protect you from. Not without serious trouble. You steal, take things without telling me, people mad at us, people hurt us,” he says. He has a talent for presenting scary things with a sweet tone.

“Hurt us?”

“Well. Not hurt hurt. Little hurt. No salmon!” he gasps, teasing and smiling down at you as you glare back. 

“Not all salmon. Want more.”

“No sardines either.”

“Steve.”

Steve tips your head back and kisses your cheek, lips parting a centimetre over your skin and then coming together with a light smack that immediately ripples to the tips of your fingers and the depth of your stomach. His laugh warms your cheek as he murmurs, “I’m not lying, klepto.” 

“Who klepto?” you demand. 

He noses at your cheek. From the bathroom, the sound of running water ceases, and Steve flops backward into his pillows with his arm held out invitingly. “Come hold me, klepto. Let’s make Eddie jealous.”

You climb under his arm. Eddie returns to the scene. When he takes off his jacket and tries to get into bed with you both, Steve kicks him so hard they start shouting at each other, and the only apology Eddie will accept is that he gets to pick the movie, and he gets to lay down in bed with you guys while you watch it. Steve grumbles, but you know he doesn’t really mind Eddie’s proximity. He relaxes into the sheets, and nods off before the vaguely less-evil bedroom TV can piss you off. 

“What that?” you demand, pointing at the TV furiously. 

Steve curls closer to you in his sleep as Eddie begins the arduous process of explaining TV. 

[luveline]

OMG IMAGINE 😭😭 mermaid reader just looking steve straight into the eyes (staring like the magical creature she is) and he doesnt even know what to do with all the feelings from it and why he even feels that way

beyond the sea au | fem, 1.3k

“House today?” Steve asks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Your eyes go wide in surprise. You reach across the stone to grab his ankles. He steps out of your reach and laughs, endeared by your overdramatic huffs of annoyance. “Why?” you ask. 

“Rain,” he says, pointing up at the sky and the dark grey cloud. “You could stay in the pool, okay? Steve happy you pool, or,” —his smile is weird and shy and audible— “you can come hang out in the house.”

“Pool…” You show him an inch between your thumb and forefinger. The water being pumped out of it clearly still worries you. “Pool?”

“No. It’ll stay full. But you can come to the house for fun.”

Steve’s not waterproof. If he stays outside with you all day and it rains like the weatherman says it will, he’ll get pneumonia (again), but he already planned to spend his Monday off here and he doesn’t like leaving you alone out in the yard all day, it’s not fair. Your company indoors is the only solution. 

“I’m gonna show you the TV,” he says, “and let you eat dinner on the couch. You’re gonna love it.”

You frown. “Hold?” 

“Yeah, hold.”

“Ow,” you say, pointing at his knee. 

“Baby, I can still pick you up,” he says with a snort, thankful that you have no idea what ‘baby’ means. When’s Dustin gonna teach you that one? “Do you want to? Happy to come to the house?”

You swim to the shallows and Steve takes a couple

of steps in, finding it easier to pull you into his arms from the water than hanging over it. You propel yourselves into his arms and wrap your own around his neck, smiling at him before you tuck your head under his chin. He gets both arms under what would be your butt if you didn’t have a tail, fingers linked.

Steve imagines you wouldn’t be quite as hard to carry if you didn’t have one, either. It’s not so much your weight as the distribution of it. The trip from the pool to the patio doors is just as scary as it was the first time, slower than he’d like while he’s terrified of a nosy neighbour sticking their head over the fence at the exact wrong moment, and his arms start to cry out as he’s crossing the threshold. There’s water sluicing off of you and he’s worried he’s gonna slip and kill you both, twin cracked heads on the tile floor. 

Steve thought ahead enough to lay a bunch of towels out on the couch, but he nearly slips as he’s putting you down. You tumble out of his arms and into the back of the couch with a shocked, “Oof!” 

Steve laughs loudly, tugging your arm to bring your face back into his view. Your tail whacks the coffee table before curling underneath it, flicking against the backs of Steve’s legs. 

“Ow!” you complain. 

“You’re such a liar, dude. I know I didn’t hurt you.”

“You ow me,” you argue. 

“I did not!”

“You ow me,” you say again, smiling now you’ve been caught lying. 

Steve can’t stand you. “Idiot. You can dry yourself off if you want or stay soggy, I guess? Maybe you can spend more time in here if you don’t towel off.” He tips his head back, struck with a sudden idea. “Hm.”

Steve gathers some things from the kitchen and makes a quick trip to the extension through the patio and the exterior, then locks up behind himself. You’re waiting patiently on the couch where he’d left you when he returns, a towel now wrapped around your shoulders to shield you from your dripping hair. 

“Good,” you say, pointing underneath you. 

“It’s comfy, right? Guess my mom got sick of the showcase living rooms.” Steve sits down next to you, ignoring your wet patches to offer you a bowl of salted pretzels. “These are my favourite ever, in the world. Savoury and salty. You’ll like ‘em. And for lunch I thought we’d have those parsley fish cakes again, you liked them. Warm fish?” 

You nod enthusiastically, tipping the bowl of pretzels slightly to one side. “Hungry?” you say. 

“Are they food, is that what you’re asking? Can you eat those? Absolutely.” Steve nabs a few and chucks them back. “Good!”

You pull a funny face when you eat one, crunching, your eyelid twitching slightly. 

“What?” he laughs, and thankfully you laugh with him, somewhere between your breathy laugh and the deeper one you have when you’re ’evilly excited’, as he’s penned it fondly. 

“Home,” you say. 

“What?”

You lick one of the pretzels and laugh again. “Home.”

“Oh, the salt? Do you not like it?”

You don’t answer, but you take another handful of pretzels, giggling. Steve lets himself sag back into the couch, the towels he’d chosen out for you soft where they brush his inner knees and the back of his neck. 

You follow his movement, not chewing anymore. He hasn’t shown you the TV yet, or offered you any form of entertainment or education, but you smile at him. You lick a little crumb off of your lip and sink further back, Steve’s mirror, his hair falling away from his face. 

A small laugh catches. You meet his eyes, can’t choose which one to look at before settling, staring right into him without hesitation. He watches as your hand comes to rest just over your heart, but beyond that you don’t move. Your lashes lay in wet triangles and that lovely mother-of-pearl shine kisses your skin at the corners of your eyes and the tip of your chin, like the sun shining across water. All Steve can see is you. 

Steve stops avoiding your gaze to meet your stare. Suddenly, he can’t think. Holds his breath, waiting for the moment to turn, to meld into something warmer or to shatter completely. 

“You’re so pretty,” he says quietly.

You stare a little longer. 

“Pretty?” you ask finally, your voice similarly subdued. 

He goes hot. “I plead the fifth on that one,” he says, flustering upward and wielding the last spoil he’d brought you. “This is for you.”

“Me?” 

He doesn’t let you take it. He’s holding a water bottle meant for spraying down garden plants. His mom had once used it for the windowbeds, but he washed it out with dish soap and filled it with clean water first. Steve turns it to his hand and presses the trigger, expelling a healthy mist of water against his palm.

He turns it to you. 

“Can I?” 

You nod. 

Steve reaches for you, gently placing his hand over your eyes. You let him do it without flinching. He sprays you with water, three quick pumps. 

You blink as he pulls away his hand. “How’s that?” he asks. 

You take the bottle from him with piqued interest, turning it to the side, your finger catching clumsily around the trigger. “Steve?” you ask when it doesn’t spray. 

He puts his hand over yours and presses down with your fingers, forcing mist out of the nozzle. Pleased, you turn the bottle toward you and spray yourself, flinching as it hits you, but unbothered as you do it again, and again, down your arms and over your tummy. 

“Is that good?” he asks.

You turn it on him and spray him dead in the face. He closes his eyes too late, and offers a sardonic smile. 

“Yep, thanks for that.” 

He doesn’t miss the laughter in your answering, “Welcome.”

[luveline]

I’m so curious, does Steve eventually take robin and Eddie with him to go shopping and get his mermaid some bikini top options? And if so which is her favorite when he comes back and shows her?

beyond the sea au | fem, 2.1k

Steve is agreeable to seeing you in the rash guard. While he knows mermaids probably don’t have the same sense of modesty when it comes to hiding their bodies under clothes, Steve can’t know for certain without asking, and at the moment he doesn’t have the language skills to do that. And the rash guard looks good on you. 

It covers your chest and keeps your privacy, away from Steve’s guilty, occasionally straying eyes —he can look at you without thinking anything dirty, he can. He’d caught sight of you a hundred times before you had the rash guard and didn’t think more than, oh, boobs, but things are different. 

A few days ago, you’d tried to tell him about where you came from, found yourself lacking the words, and had instead taken his hand and pressed it right to your heart, which had meant some of his hand had been on your breast, and he’d gone hot all over thinking about it because he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about it, and now… He’s trying not to be a creep. There’s a part of him that wants you: wants you to stay, to like him, to want him back, and he knows that that’s the overactive romantic in him that’s never been good for anything except getting hurt. 

There’s nothing wrong about having a crush on someone, Steve’s not that ass backward as to think it, he enjoys the way you fluster him when he catches sight of your hip twisting or your tummy, or the softness of your chest when you’re using your elbows to stay above the waterline in the pool, but he can’t be the guy who keeps a mermaid in his pool and wants to fuck her everytime he looks at her, he can’t. 

It’s just… sometimes, he wants to kiss you. And he’s lonely and you’re lovely and he thinks about how you’d sound, in pleasure, if it would be anything like your breathy laughter or your hums that carry over the water, and he hates himself. You wear your rash guard because Steve has asked you to, and he doesn’t think about you at night because he owes you that. 

When Steve comes down from bed that morning, a Saturday, far too early to be up but eager to see you, he opens the patio doors and finds you sleeping at the bottom of the pool. 

Your rash guard is a black lump on the side of the pool. Dry. You must’ve taken it off after he went to bed. 

“Good morning,” he says, crossing his legs beneath him to sit nearest your shadow. 

While your ears look the same as his, they don’t function as poorly as a human’s would underwater. It doesn’t take much more than his voice to rouse you, emerging from the depths with a yawn and hand over your eyes. It makes Steve laugh. 

“Hey. You okay?” he asks gently. 

You rub your eyes. “Tired,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” Steve waits for you to look at him before he speaks. “Do you want to go back to sleep?” he asks, nodding at the water. “I can come back later.”

You look so achingly tired and it’s just adorable to him. Steve seizes up, in deep, deep trouble, listless as you rub your eyes again with both hands, barely able to keep yourself up on your tail. He reaches for your sides. 

“What happened to the rash guard, beautiful?” he asks, a Freudian slip, Robin might say, as his eyes glance off of your naked chest. 

You clutch at his arms. “Ah?”

Steve jerks his head at the black pile of fabric. It’ll have to be washed now. “Why not?”

You go sorry and it’s just– Steve cannot do this, he can’t do this, it’s all your fault for holding his hand to your chest and telling him how warm and happy and okay you felt, it filled his head with a future you can’t have with him. “Ow,” you say tentatively, clutching your hand into a fist a couple of times, then rubbing your sternum. “No ow, ow.”

“Uncomfortable,” he says. “Yeah, I don’t think they’re meant for wearing all the time, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. It’s okay.” Steve picks up the rash guard and gives it a little throw toward the house. “Don’t worry about it, okay? You can be comfortable.”

“Dustin,” you say. 

Right. Steve doesn’t know if you know why you have to wear it around Dustin, but you do know that Dustin doesn’t come down to the pool until you have it on. 

“I’ll find you something else, something less,” —he scrunches his hand up like you did— “restrictive. We’ll get you a bikini, or a t-shirt or something. You don’t have to wear it if it hurts, I wouldn't have asked you to if I knew.”

“Steve,” you say. 

His fingers spread across your sides and a little of your back, his thumbs under your breasts. It knocks the wind out of him, but it’s not salacious, either. You’re just beautiful. You don’t look like anyone he’s ever met, your big, dark eyes or your pearly chin. It’s so sweet. 

“Why don’t you go back to sleep and I’ll work something out?” He nods at the pool again. “Sleep more. Steve, I’ll go out. Fast, you won’t even know I was gone.”

And like usual, you probably don’t know what he’s saying, but you know ‘sleep’ so you hug one of his arms quickly and then descend back to the bottom of the pool. 

An hour later, Steve finds himself in a women’s clothing store with Robin and Eddie. 

“It’s a good thing bikinis are stretchy and like, adjustable, we can eyeball it,” Robin says. “And it’s a good thing I’m a girl, so you guys don’t look as weird as you could. I mean, it’s still kinda weird.”

“Don’t blame me, Steve didn’t say we were going bikini shopping,” Eddie says with a shrug. He looks like he just rolled out of bed in jeans and a t-shirt with a weak collar, his hair unbrushed and still wet in streaks where he must’ve ran water through it before he left the house.

Steve shrugs back. “I thought he’d wanna come.”

“And he said we’d go back to the grand palace and have breakfast, Robin, who am I to turn down free breakfast? I was just gonna eat a hot pocket.” Eddie grins. “Plus, I get to see my favourite mythical creature. That’s always a plus.”

Robin holds up a black bikini with beach flowers on the left cup. “She liked the flowers?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then there’s one.” Robin picks up another one that’s plain in a nice shade of pink. “Two.”

“Woah, wait, we need to think about it!” Steve says. 

“No we don’t. We can show her and she can decide if she likes them and you can return the ones she doesn’t. Plus, the clerk’s giving me a weird look.”

Steve peers behind him, where the clerk is indeed staring in a combination of suspicion and disgust. 

“Okay, fine,” Steve agrees. 

They pick out a couple and avoid anything that comes with matching bottoms. Steve hands Robin the money behind their backs and she pays for the bikinis as Eddie pretends to be invested in a showcase of bras and painting himself as more of a creep than he would’ve looked if he came to the checkout with them. 

They roll on home. You emerge at the sound of their clatter in the kitchen, and Steve ditches their stuff to make sure you’re okay. 

“Hi, okay? Less tired?” he asks, kneeling down at the edge, water immediately soaking his jeans. 

“No tired. Good,” you say, smiling. “Happy. Go, back?” 

“Yeah, I went out and got you some things. Robin and Eddie are here, in the house.”

Robin comes to the patio door and waves. “Uh, hi, miss mermaid.”

“Hi, Robin.” You beam, despite not knowing Robin as well as the others. Robin has made a diligent effort to get to know you now her upside down related heebie jeebies have abated, but Eddie and Dustin had a head start. “Happy.”

Robin smiles awkwardly, but lovingly. “Yeah, of course I am. I’m happy to see you, but– like, I didn’t bring you anything this time, sorry.”

“Sorry,” you repeat, tipping your head to the side. “Why?” you ask Steve.

“Nothing, she’s just worrying for no reason. Rob, can you throw the–” Robin tosses him your bag of new things across the patio. Steve catches it with ease. “Thank you. Can you make sure Eddie doesn’t blow up the coffee maker?” 

You reach for the bag, but Steve can’t return them all if they get wet. He puts it on the side and cracks it open, grabs the black one with the beach flowers to show you. 

“This is a bikini. It’s like the rash guard, but not all over.” 

Your brows pinch together. “What?”

“I can show you? Uh, oh, shit, not by here, though. Think you can come over to the steps with me, just a bit? Thank you, sorry. Thanks.”

After some shuffling, you curl what Steve assumes to be your butt under you with your tail to one side, stable on the steps. It’s cute. Steve knows it’s all that moment with his hand over your heart, he knows he’s not– This is leftover, from then, but he– 

“Steve?” you ask, tapping his knee. 

“Sorry.”

“Steve?”

“Look, this one has flowers, like you liked,” he says, showing you the flowers.

You reach for his knee. “Steve, what?” you ask again, softer now, but maybe agitated, too. 

This one’s made up of two triangles as they tend to be, but the connecting fabric between them is a thicker than a string, and there’s support on the sides so you aren’t falling out of it. He holds the topmost strings toward you. “Can I?” 

You blink many times but angle yourself forward. Steve leans in, and you say, “Hold?” in a tone that makes it clear you don’t actually think it’s a hug. 

“I can hold you, in a sec.” He ties the strings in a bow and pulls back to catch the cups. His lip prickles with mysterious sweat as he lays them over your chest. You might need to adjust some, and he’s not sure you’ll know how, but he pulls the fabric down to hug the shape of you to try and alleviate the need for it, then slips his hands along to the ties, wider than the ones behind your neck. He double knots. 

You look down at yourself curiously. Without hesitation, you bring your hands up to feel the fabric, tracing over the flowers. 

“Is that gonna be okay?” he asks.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“You like it?” He clasps your elbow. “And, listen, we can still take it off before bed. I should’ve been doing that for you. I don’t want you to think you have to wear or do anything because I told you to do it, you know?”

You point at the bag. “Me?” you ask. 

Steve pulls out a handful of bikini tops, the pink one, the blue one with little fish stitched at the hem, the plain black, and the red one with skinny blue stripes that looks more like a sports bra than the others. 

You laugh excitedly. “Me?” you ask again. 

“Yeah, of course they’re for you.” 

“Me,” you say, reaching out to touch the blue one with little fish. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“No, you’re welcome. Don’t say thanks. You can have anything.”

You smile at him with teeth, before turning toward the water and diving slowly into the depths of it. Steve watches you take your small, quick laps, bubbles emerging from your mouth, like you’re laughing underwater. Your hand slips to your chest, feeling at yourself assessingly as you pop back up. 

“Yes,” you say, out of breath with rivulets racing down your shoulders, your scales glimmering under the climbing sun. “Good. No ow.”

You wiggle your way back to Steve and take his hands. 

“Swim today?” you ask. 

Steve says yeah, of course he will, he just has to make breakfast first for everyone. He explains Robin-Eddie-hungry and works out through naming what you want for breakfast, ignoring the feeling of your hands still clasped around his, though this becomes impossible when he says, “Need?” and you lean down to kiss the back of his hand. 

“Happy,” you say. 

Mer-girls like gifts as much as regular ones, it seems. 

[luveline]

jade jade jade jade!! i am obsessed with beyond the sea oh my goodness. i am just dying to know how she tells steve about home, maybe not specifics, but enough to weave a picture. is it lonely? cold? warm? far? close? green? open?

oh i’m just dying for babygirl to learn more adjectives

beyond the sea au | fem, 1.9k

There are five oceans on Earth, filled with strange creatures. Steve shows them to you from the book he’s found. He’s poured over it in the last few days, head bent down, occasionally rubbing at the side of his head with a closed fist. What he’s trying to learn from them is a mystery —it’s not as though he’ll find you or anyone like you in the pages. No, there are no photographs of mermaids, sirens or selkies. 

You can’t read, so you spend the quieter hours curled at the bottom of the pool looking up at the sun, or resting near the shallows with your face and torso on the inleading steps, breathing deep breaths. Dozing. 

Occasionally, you wake up and he’s there beside you, with or without the book. Your strange human. Your saviour. He’s handsomer than most of them, with a straight nose, a nice jaw, and brown eyes unlike anything you or your family have. His are black in the very centres and ringed by brown, but that brown doesn’t glow, nor tine off at random. It’s one strong circle, but within? You tip your head to the side to stare at him without facing him head on. His irises are vast. Like a passed urchin shell, they’re filled with a thousand lines going outward, a brown with hints of ochre-green, a colour you’d never seen before in someone’s face.

They’re beautiful. They suit him wholeheartedly. 

He has these little dots all over, as natural to him as your facial scales. You flush remembering how you’d tried to flick them off of him in those first days, worried he’d been afflicted by sea lice, and mortified that you could’ve brought them with you unknowingly from the great lake, how could you not have noticed them? But Steve didn’t have lice, he has moles.

A new word, like ‘book’. Steve shows you photographs, which you’d known of vaguely, in books, which you were less familiar with. 

Occasionally, you might’ve spotted a human with one in hand, but it’s not like you know what half of their weird contraptions are nor what they do. Their strange split tails were daunting enough. He introduces words in his language with help, and they’re admittedly far easier to remember when you have your own words to fall back on. He confuses you often, you know you confuse him worse, using words in wrong orders and making up things that feel right but sound odd. 

And Steve, he makes you laugh when he tries to speak your tongue. He is terrible. Apparently, human mouths aren’t suited for the melody of your language, he can’t whistle-talk or vocalise song like you can. 

He can make some sound with his tongue, but it means nothing more than a human hum. There’s no language there beyond music for music's sake, which isn’t worthless. You wish Steve knew how to play the guitar like his friend Eddie. He’s the most mermaid-like of the humans you’ve met, not his clothes —he wears a lot of them, and the colours range from coal pitch black to deepest-void grey— but his hair. He is pale like some of the deep ocean creatures where Steve is more tan, like lakers and sea-swimmers. The music that he plays you is far removed from anything you’ve ever heard before. Even lingering at the surface of the shoreline hadn’t reaped anything like what he plays you. There’s variety, tenor and shape and aggression, sometimes. There’s a lot of emotion compared to the bopping, repetitiveness you’d heard at the great lake. 

Steve likes to sing, though. There’s a certain euphony to his voice when he talks, always, but when he sings it comes out as he’s not paying attention. Humans don’t seem to carry weight in song as often, but when Steve sings you always stop to listen in case there’s something to be understood. 

“What about you?” he asks.

You don’t know this human word, ‘about’. What, yes. You’ve established that one early, though their ‘what’ seems to have a firm boundary with another word, ‘why’, where your word is far less pronounced. ‘You’ is you, your body, and ‘you’ can be his body when you say it. 

“About?” you ask carefully.

“Pass. I’m sorry, I can’t… I don’t know.” He shrugs at you. “But Dustin, tomorrow. I’ll write it down. We’ll ask Dustin.”

Many of these words are useless. You summon a brief guess at what he’s said. He’s sorry, he can’t answer your question, and Dustin’s coming tomorrow. You assume Dustin, the sweet-cheeked boy, will explain ‘about’.

Steve shows you the book. It’s a strange picture inside of a circle with multicoloured patches. It’s mostly blue. 

“You?” he asks. 

You don’t get it. This photo means nothing to you. Though, upon closer inspection, it’s less of a photograph and more of a rock-drawing with hard-wearing colours. 

“What?” you ask, drawing a circle around the image. 

“This?” He leans toward the water. “This is… Earth?” He spreads an arm. “Everything.” 

It is not fun to not know what someone is saying. The lessons with Dustin aren't miracles. None of the words he said have a definition and you don’t want to look at the book anymore, you’d rather Steve put it down and give his attention to you, but he doesn’t give up. He does put down the book, actually, but his mouth works before you can celebrate, clearly ready to speak the words he has planned before they come out. 

“Steve’s house,” he says, pointing at the home behind him. “Steve, house. You, pool. But you, what? You, uh…” He rubs his head. You worry he’s hurting. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so bad at this. Stupid.”

You hum. Clean water laps at your chest and arms. It has a strange taste, never as stale as you worry it’ll be, perhaps due to the vent/tube thing you have no comparison to at home. It keeps fresh water coming in, with little salt, not dirt, or clay. “Steve, no sorry. Okay.”

“You–” Steve gestures everywhere, all around, filling his expression with curiosity. “You?” He points one way. “You?” he points another. 

Is he asking where you came from?

Your chest aches. You never planned on being this long from home. 

You wish you could tell him what the world is like. The humans spend all their time here, where it’s dry, rarely experiencing the wonder and vastness of the deep ocean. There’s simply so much of it. 

You want to tell him that your home isn’t what he might think it is. You want to tell him what it meant to come here. You can’t find the language. You can’t read the black lines on his book or decipher his photograph. 

“Swim,” you say, a word in his language that sounds like the action. “Swim,” —you gesture a half circle— “me, ah…” 

You hold your hands up and show your fingers. Then you tap each one for the different members of your pod. Finally, you intertwine your fingers, and let them fall down into the water. 

Steve nods a few times, which was the most fucked up thing to relearn. You use quick motions in the water rarely. You have far more use for sound than water, and why shake your head when you can simply say yes? Robin had confused you trying to explain it. Nodding, saying yes, shaking her head and saying no. These humans. Shaking your head should obviously mean yes because it represents motion, moving forward through water, they’re all so dumb with their big machines that make horrible noise and their offal that never dissolves crowding the floor. 

“Sorry,” he says, “not okay? You look mad.” He glares quickly as an example, you hope. “Mad. Are you mad?”

“No.” You banish your thoughts. You’ve been thinking too much, because there’s soooo much to do here. Sights to see, people to meet,

You will confess to thinking yourself lucky you found Steve. Or he found you? He happened upon you in his ‘pool’, not naturally occurring. Hadn’t that been a kick in the head?

(‘Kick’, Eddie showed you, digging his foot into Steve’s thigh with enough pointed force to make Steve squeal.)

You take Steve’s hand and put it over your heart. He can’t feel your skin through the weaving he gave you, so you use his hand to pull the neck of it down, trapping his fingers against the heat your heart makes. Your very first home was warm like your heart. 

“Home,” you say, the sun above you and all through the sea. 

He starts to get that pink tinge. Steve is pretty. Far more beautiful than you. And this pink colour drifting over him like ink as it disperses fills you with a feeling you don’t understand, your pulse tripped and tangled by the flushed kiss that’s fallen over him. 

You’re tempted to ask for him to hold you. He never lets you drift away. 

He’s looking at you so closely. 

You look back at him. Pink mouth and tongue. He must be soft, to touch. His teeth aren’t sharp. His lips look plush. 

“It’s warm,” Steve says finally. He cups a handful of water and lets it slip out of his palm, rubbing the remaining wet into your elbow. “Cold. Cold water.” He shifts his hand further under the weaving, his most outward fingers melded gently against the soft skin of your breast, mere inches from sensitivity. You don’t know much of human touch, but you’ve learned Steve’s pressures and needs. “Warm skin,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb into your heart. 

“Warm,” you agree. 

“So you came from somewhere warm. The Atlantic, maybe?” His voice is silken as tilled sand. “There are warmer waters in the south… The Mediterranean?” Unintelligible, but his tone won’t leave you alone. “You must have come from so far away, to be here. I don’t understand it. I mean, what are the chances?” You curl your hand around his. He brings his second hand to your elbow. “I mean, Jesus Christ, what happened to you?”

His sadness throws you for a loop. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he says. 

You’re too afraid to break the moment to ask why he means. Why ‘honey’ sounds like a private confession. Why he would ever be sorry for looking after you. 

“Steve,” you say, reaching for the words you don’t have. When you speak now, it’s in your language, and he doesn’t understand any of it. “I– I have the strangest feeling when I’m with you. I don’t want it to go. It’s like I’m waiting for you and- and you’re there.” You switch back to his language. “Warm, okay, happy,” you explain, letting your head fall and sandwiching his wrist and arm against your face, “warm,” you say again, a mumble, your lips tickled by the fine hairs of his arm. He has such lovely arms, turning golden from days out here with you, strong but lithe. They’re masterful, when he swims. 

He leans down and presses something soft to your forehead, the briefest of touches on the very side of your head, practically in your hair, but that catch on your skin lingers. A peck. 

“I wish I could keep you,” he says softly, “but I know that I can’t.”

You don’t understand a word.

[luveline]

Hmm mermaid!reader who really is so bored and enjoys eddies company, she starts asking for him and maybe even learns words like song or dude (stuff that he says often) and Steve has to remind himself that it’s stupid to be jealous over it because it’s not like he owns her…

beyond the sea au | fem, 1.5k

Today’s vocab word is ‘today’. 

Dustin and Steve had explained it to you over breakfast with a whiteboard. Steve held the whiteboard and Dustin drew the sun and the moon, which are universal concepts. The moon with a bite taken out of it, and then sun —you hadn’t understood the squiggly lines around it, but Steve pointed up at the sun until you got it. They explain that today’s are marked by the moon and the sun swapping places, which you probably knew. You assign your today to the English word ‘today’.

Steve didn’t think he could hate a vocab word, but his eye is twitching. 

“Eddie, today?” you ask. 

“You want Eddie to come to the pool?” he asks automatically. He might wish you hadn’t asked for Eddie, but he doesn’t like the idea of depriving you of communication. 

“Swim.”

“I can swim, Steve will swim with you,” he says. 

Your gaze flickers pointedly to his knee. He ate shit a few days ago and twisted it. He’d also cut his foot, but the wound is healed thanks to your uber effective mermaid spit. He thought it would have been more disgusting than it was. Turns out, you can spit on him and Steve doesn’t mind. Weird girl, shameful boy. 

“I can swim,” he insists.

“Eddie…” You hold one hand in the air, and angle the other one down diagonally, strumming the air in front of your tummy. 

“I thought you wanted to swim?”

“Eddie?”

Steve doesn’t want Eddie to come over, and he hates why. He shouldn’t be jealous enough about your attention to even consider telling you that Eddie’s busy without checking, but… Steve bites the inside of his cheek. 

“I’ll go call him.”

“Ah?”

“Uh.” Steve stands from the sun lounger he’d been perched on, his knee singing agony. He mimes walking. “I’ll go ask. Go, see if he can come today?” He puts emphasis on today sounding doubtful so you know he’s not sure of the answer. 

“Okay. Thank you, Steve.”

“Sure thing.” Then, at your confused frown, “You’re welcome. I’ll go. Fast.”

Steve doesn’t hurry. One day he’ll be able to explain to you that he could check by calling. Maybe mermaids can call long distances with their voices, and you could compare it to that. Or maybe you talk through shells, Steve doesn’t know.

Eddie and Dustin had made notes on possible theories of real life mermaid physicality versus mythological stories, and they thought your underwater singing might be a kind of distress signal you’re sending across the water, though, obviously, it won’t reach anyone. Steve wishes it would, if only so you didn’t feel lonely. 

“Munson residence,” Eddie coos, “speak now or–”

“Are you busy?” Steve asks. 

“No. Everything okay?” Eddie’s tone goes wry. “I assume you aren’t interested in the pleasure of my company.”

Steve doesn’t mind Eddie’s company when Eddie’s not being bitchy (lest they get into it) (Steve can only cope with so much of his own personality), and squawks his offense. “Dude, I could be. But–”

“See!”

“–she’s asking if we’ll see Eddie today.” 

“Today? That’s a great word. Did she learn tomorrow?” 

“Is that when you’re coming?”

“No, man, I’m coming now. The mermaid wants to see me.”

“Dude!” Steve hisses. Dustin told them both not to talk about you in explicit turns over the phone in case the bad government dudes were listening to it. It was literally the first rule of their secret operations lesson. 

“Uh–” Eddie coughs. “I’ll bring dinner? Hey, do you think salmon makes a good pizza topping?”

“Dude, just come over.”

“Yep, yep. I am en route, Harrington. Catch you in a sec.”

Steve tells you the news and watches you mopily from his seat on the sunlounger. Your tails fins move more when you’re happy, and right now? They’re wiggling. It’s adorable and vexing at the same time.

“Steve…” 

The man in question smiles. “Yah?”

“Swim?”

You gesture him forward. He limps for you, and sits on the side, about to slide in when you hold out your hands. “Okay?”

“What, you want me to put my feet in?” 

Steve dips his feet in. You coo proudly. He can tell he’s being made fun of to some extent, but he favours your attention and doesn’t say anything that might make you want him to go back to the lounger. 

You sink down the stare at his foot. He tries not to cringe as you inspect the line of his heel and the scar he’s developing from his mishap. After not long at all, you straighten and stretch your hand out over his fucked up knee, not touching it. “Hurt?” you ask quietly. 

“Yeah, a little.”

He makes a pinch to show you. A centimetre of hurt. 

You and Steve have spent a surprising amount of time in silence together. When two people don’t speak the same language, they start to learn new ways to talk; he doesn’t know where you came from, how you got here, or who’s missing you at home, but he’s held your hand as you swam a circle around him, sending him spinning and dizzy into the wall, he’s raced you from one end to another knowing he’d lose, and, every night before bed, he comes out into the yard to check that you’re okay. 

Sometimes, you ask him to hold you, and you don’t specify why. Steve has grown used to them. He’d go as far as to say he waits for them, anticipating the next time you’ll hold out your arms and ask. Sometimes you're shy, most of the time you’re happy, but no matter what, if he hugs you long enough, you’ll reach for his hair and scratch your fingernails gently into his scalp. 

You slip your arms over his thighs, your chin on his painless knee. 

“What?” he asks, reaching out to wipe a lingering drop of water from your forehead. His pinky finger traces down your cheek of its own accord. 

“Need?” you ask. 

Steve cups your cheek, then snaps himself out of things. He really shouldn’t do stuff like that, just, you need it. You’d gone soft and his sudden removal of his hand makes you squint. 

“Sorry?” you offer. 

“No, not you,” he says. “Me. Steve. He’s stupid.”

You rest your cheek on his thigh. 

For a good long while, you and Steve sun together. It’s not especially warm, but the air is temperate and the sunshine helps. He teases tiny little wet hairs off of your forehead with his index finger, and you breathe into his thigh, apparently unperturbed by his touching. 

The front door clatters open. There are boots clashing through the house and the kitchen, then Eddie’s at the patio door and lugging his way down with his acoustic guitar on his back, two pizza boxes in hand, and a backpack dangling dangerously from a single finger. 

“Hi,” he says, which is rather endearing. 

“Hi, Eddie,” you say, quieter than previous hellos, peeking around Steve’s body. He leans back to give you a better view. 

“Hi, sweetheart. Is she okay?” he asks Steve. “She sounds tired.”

Steve pats your shoulder. “She’s fine, as far as I know. You’re okay?” You nod. Steve’s hand slips down your arm, then away. You lift your head from his lap but don’t move, and Steve wants to take a photo, frame it, and write Take That Munson in sharpie across the glass, like Eddie gives a fuck. 

“You’ll never guess what I got on this pizza,” Eddie says, kicking off his boots by the table and making his way down to you both. His rucksack lands with a clink. He thrusts the pizza into Steve’s hands and they almost end up in the pool, saved by your hand tapping the underside of the bottommost box. 

“Ha!” you laugh victoriously.

Eddie puts the guitar on the ground and sits, cross-legged, tugging at his socks. 

“Did you bring your trunks?” Steve asks. 

“Uh, no. But I brought beer?”

“She can’t swim while drunk.”

“What, like she’s gonna drown?”

You take the pizza boxes out of Steve’s hands and put them on the side, struggling with the lid, then gasping at the smell you unveil. 

“Anchovies, really?” Steve asks, his disgust not half as loud as your happy, and again, evil-shaded laugh, your tone deep and your eyes shining with pleasure. “Ew.”

“I got us sausage and mushroom, dude, I’m not an animal.”

“Fish, dude,” you say, reaching for a slice, flinching at the heat. 

Steve pulls out a slice for you and cracks in half so you can protect your fingers on the crust. He mimes eating the end, then offers it to you carefully. “It’s not all hot.”

You take the pizza. 

“She really trusts you,” Eddie says. 

Steve licks semolina off of his fingers, a thought paused. He turns to Eddie. Eddie looks back, confused and wide-eyed with his arm stopped where he’d been reaching behind Steve for the other pizza. 

“Did she just say ‘dude’?” Steve asks. 

“Don’t look at me, man, we’re still on curse words.”

[ouchpotatoex]

It's just a stadium, Charles...

[tomatatoro]

[theflowerrooms]

hi petal! i've got an idea if you're still looking for requests c:

-imagine the squad goes camping but there was a miscommunication/error in booking and steve ends up having to room with eddie & the reader.

-he's already annoyed about having to third wheel but also bc he knows theyre always going at it.

-one night, he went to bed earlier than the group.

-by the time eddie & reader get to bed, they assume he's fast asleep but they were kinda loud coming into the cabin so he stirs awake.

-once they're in bed, they start messin around and eventually have sex, not caring about how loud their being bc they still think steve is asleep when really he's wide awake like O.O

(i'll leave it up to you whether or not steve gets himself off to them doin it but part of me feels like he has a voyeurism kink heehehe)

to request • eddie’s masterlist • steve’s masterlist • main

Wide Awake

Eddie Munson x Reader, x Steve Harrington (slight)

Summary: on a trip with friends, Steve ends up rooming with Eddie and you, the token sex addicts as he’s lovingly called you. He goes to bed early and you and Eddie calling soon after, thinking he’s fast asleep when you two start messing around

I seriously loved writing this so much! Thank you for the request! I’m a big fan of Steddie x reader and I’ve really been wanting to write more with Stevie <3 thank you! Love, Petal

wordcount: 2k

Warnings: smut, slight dubious consent, swearing, penetrative sex, voyeurism (Steve can hear reader and Eddie going at it), exhibitionism (Eddie and reader are definitely getting off on it, praise, slight humiliation?

He should’ve been the one to call and book the rooms. Maybe then they would’ve gotten four rooms with one bed each instead of two rooms with two beds each. Steve glared at you and Eddie across the fire pit, cozied together. Your face was buried into Eddie’s neck as you laughed at something Robin said. He didn’t hate you or Eddie, in fact, he loved you both immensely, his best friends. What he hated was the fact that you were always on each other. A constant reminder of how he was alone when the two of you looked happier than anyone had been before. It didn’t help that Steve had a thing for the both of you before you started dating.

Steve watched as Eddie’s hand slipped from your waist to your thigh, gripping it tightly and pulling you closer to him. He watched as your lips found Eddie’s pulse point, leaving nothing more than a gentle kiss, but it was enough to let Steve know you two were about to be interested in more than friendly kisses and lingering touches.

That was his cue to leave, go to bed and fall asleep before he got stuck listening to you two go at it.

He said his goodnights to everyone and all but ran to the room he’d soon be sharing with you and Eddie. His bed was cold and comfortable, but he was bitter and annoyed, and the cold only reminded him that there was nobody else to warm his bed with him. He hadn’t laid there long before he’d almost fallen asleep, resting on his side and blanket up to his chin as he faced the wall. His drowsiness was quick to leave him when he heard the door swing open and close.

"Shh- shut up, Steve's sleepin'." He heard you giggle, Eddie giggling in response. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a slight smile at your tipsy laughs, you sounded like you'd each been drinking. He knew it hadn't been more than a beer each; You and Eddie were just drunk on each other.

He heard Eddie's heavy footsteps as you led him over to the bed. He could hear you both falling onto the mattress and he was immediately grateful that the beds weren't squeaky, so at least he'd not have to listen to that.

  He listened to you giggle and Eddie shush you. "Keep your pretty mouth shut, don't wanna wake up Steve." Eddie rasped. Steve could tell by his playful tone that he didn't really care if they woke him up or not.

  The room soon filled with the sounds of you and Eddie kissing, clearly sloppy and rushed. Steve's face started to heat up with a deep blush that he was too embarrassed to acknowledge. And as your breath started to grow heavy with a soft sigh against Eddie's lips, Steve began to consider that maybe being stuck in a room with you and Eddie wasn't such a bad thing.

  "Get this off baby." Eddie mumbled, mouthing breathily at your neck. You whispered something that Steve couldn't really hear, but he did hear his name. "Baby, it's fine, we'll be real quiet. If Harrington wakes up he can deal, or go sleep with the girls, it's fine." Eddie assured you, pecking kisses over his shoulder. Steve wanted to be irritated with Eddie for not caring to respect that maybe Steve didn't want to chance hearing you both fuck, but… Steve wasn't so mad about it, more excited than he was able to admit. It wasn't like he hadn't thought about Eddie and you like that before. He wasn't upset that he'd get to hear it this time.

  Eddie was quick to help you get your shirt off. Steve could hear him kiss down the column of your chest, hear your shirt drop to the floor and he could even hear the zipper of your shorts before they hit the floor too.

“Fuck you’re so pretty.” Eddie groaned under his breath. Steve had to stop himself from turning to look for himself. He’d never seen you wearing less than a bikini, but that was enough for him to imagine. He didn’t have to see you to know that he already agreed.

Eddie kissed your sternum and unclasped your bra, letting you slide it off yourself as he let his hand fall to your cunt, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your panties. “Eddie, please.” You tried to whisper, but the unsteady and loud whimper that followed your words defeated the purpose of you whispering in the first place.

Your voice was darker, so sweet and needy, and that was it before Steve could feel him growing hard in his sweatpants. He heard Eddie’s taunting laugh and more whimpers from you that got him fully hard. He desperately wanted to turn and look at you, to reach down and palm himself, but he wouldn’t.

“Gonna let me taste you baby?” Eddie rasped, leaving more wet kisses on your stomach as he slid your underwear down your legs. Steve felt conflicted. He was excited at the possibility of getting to hear Eddie go down on you, frustrated that he couldn’t watch, and jealous that he didn’t get to have his mouth on you. Or even have Eddie’s mouth on himself.

You tugged Eddie’s hair to pull him up closer to you, and the groan he let out made Steve’s cock twitch. “Not right now, need you so bad, please.” Your voice shook and Steve exhaled, careful not to be too loud. He heard Eddie’s shirt hit the floor, then the zipper of his jeans. Steve wondered if he was stripping himself, or if you were helping him.

He stopped thinking about that the second he heard you gasp and sigh. He couldn’t be sure as he wasn’t able to see, but he imagined Eddie pushing his cock into you, bottoming out. He wondered how wet you were, and how deep Eddie was inside of you. He wanted to see so bad, but he was grateful to be able to hear the soft sounds you let out.

“Jesus… how are you always so fuckin’ tight? Feel so good angel.” Eddie’s voice was shakey, keeping his voice down for Steve’s sake. Unbeknownst to you both, Steve desperately wanted Eddie to speak up, wanted you to let yourself be louder.

As Eddie started moving faster in and out of you, you both stopped paying much attention to your volume. Eddie breathed heavily, and quiet moans were pushed out of your lips with each thrust of his cock. Steve could even hear your cunt, hearing just how soaking wet Eddie made you.

Steve’s cock was aching against his pants, and he just had to do something. Obviously he couldn’t jerk off right there: You’d stop if you knew he was listening. He shifted so that instead of laying on his side, he was on his stomach, giving him the perfect opportunity to press his hips against the mattress. He could gain some friction and alleviate some of the pressure from being so hard and not being able to do anything about it.

He nearly cursed at himself, the noise of him moving alerted you and Eddie. You both stopped, looking over at him to gauge whether or not he was awake. After a few moments of tense silence, Eddie started fucking you again, harder than before and catching you off guard. You whined, so loud and beautiful, and Steve couldn’t help but rhythmically roll his hips into the mattress. He had to bite down on his lip to keep himself quiet.

“Eddie-” His name fell from your lips, caught somewhere between a warning for him to slow down, or a plead for him to give you more. Steve didn’t think you were sure what you wanted.

“What’s the matter baby? Don’t wanna wake up Stevie?” Eddie asked teasingly and you hummed in agreement. “Awe, you don’t want Steve to see how well you take my cock? Don’t want Steve to see how fuckin’ pretty you look getting fucked?” He groaned and Steve almost groaned in return. Eddie’s words were doing just as much for him as they were for you, then the broken whine that came out of your mouth had Steve realizing the likelihood of him cumming in his pants like some desperate kid.

“Y’know what? I think you want him to see you. With the way you’re fuckin’ tightening up every time I say his damn name? God, fuck-” He fucked you harder, nails digging into the meat of your thighs, but it only spurred you on. He hit your g-spot over and over again, and you bit down on the junction between his neck and shoulder to try and quiet yourself. It was no use; you were still moaning desperately and Steve could hear every bit of it loud and clear. Each broken whine and whimper from your lips was bringing him closer and closer to an orgasm, just like Eddie’s cock was doing for you.

“Fucking- damn it, feel so good. Gonna cum baby? Are you gonna cum on my cock right next to Steve? Such a slut, fuckin’ love you” Eddie moaned, his thrusts were growing sloppier and sloppier and Steve could hear it.

“Love you- I- need to cum Eddie.” Your sweet voice was heavy with tears of pleasure, and simultaneously, you and Steve felt the pulsing in your lower stomachs, warning you of your orgasm.

“C’mon, so good for me, cum for me. Be a good slut and cum for me.” Eddie’s voice was thick and raspy, but sweet and loving. It guided you to your orgasm and you moaned loudly as you arched your back and came on his cock. At the same time, at Eddie’s demand, Steve came as well, his jaw hanging open in a choked back, silent moan as he filled his sweatpants with cum.

Eddie’s hips stuttered against yours and he came too, groaning loudly. A whiny moan that you loved to hear as he fucked his cum inside of you. “Fuck- s’good for me.” He mumbled, kissing your forehead as he stilled inside of you.

Steve rested there quietly, as quietly as he could manage. He listened to Eddie pull out of you and lay next to you, kissing the skin of your shoulders softly. Steve heard the blankets moving around as Eddie pulled them up over your shoulders for you.

“Thank you.” Your voice was sweet and sleepy, still heavy with that post orgasm haze. You thanked Eddie again, kissing his jaw. Steve wanted to thank him too, he wished he’d be able to replay everything he’d heard in his head over and over for the rest of time. He hoped you would do the same the next night. He’d make sure you ‘accidentally’ had to share a room with one another again. “Goodnight.” Steve smiled to himself as he heard your sweet voice, so loving and pretty. He heard you and Eddie kiss for a moment again and then he heard you shuffle closer to your boyfriend, burying your face in his neck. He was willing to bet you looked so cute.

Eddie yawned himself, “Goodnight baby.” He littered kisses over the crown of your head and Steve listened. He began to grow frustrated and jealous again, wishing he had someone to kiss him, to hold him. He wanted to scold himself for being so bitter about you and Eddie being happy together. You both deserved it after all; Steve just wanted to be happy, and he liked you both so much.

Finally, as Steve came back to himself after coming down from the post-orgasm high, he chewed his lip anxiously. What kind of creep not only listens to his friends have sex with each other, but gets off to it as well? The cold, wet stain in his pants began to grow uncomfortable as he began to grow guilty. What would you think if you knew? What would Eddie think? He was sure Eddie would want to knock his teeth out if he knew. Finally, he was interrupted from his anxious thoughts by Eddie’s voice.

“G’night Steve.”

[theflowerrooms]

do you guys still want a part 2 for this???

[gaybybirth]

overheard - pt two

Eddie Munson x fem!Henderson!Reader (NSFW)

Synopsis: Dustin sees your hickies, and in a panic, you tell him they’re from Steve. Steve, thankfully goes along with the ruse after you ask. Eddie, however, gets a little jealous when you and Steve pick the kids up after Hellfire. It doesn't take long for him to knock on your window one night and fill you in on that jealousy.

Warnings: nsfw and fluffy content; jealous!possessive!Eddie, sorta fake dating with Steve, underage drinking, dirty talk, nipple play, having to keep quiet while fucking, choking, hair pulling, anal (fingering), oral (reader receiving), cockwarming (sorta), slow fucking, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, cumplay, a smidge of aftercare, and almost getting caught

Word Count: 7.1k

A/N: pt two baby, let’s go.

Dustin didn't know. It didn't matter how many times you reminded yourself of that. You still felt yourself tensing around him whenever he said Eddie's name. And he'd said it about fifteen times over the next two days. Like he was trying to gauge your reaction every time. His eyes would narrow each time, honing in on you like when you fumbled the remote when he mentioned seeing Eddie the next day.

Dustin didn’t know. Well, he didn’t know until he did.

He saw the hickies. It was when you thought he wasn't home, and you stepped out of the bathroom after showering, donning a tank top. He dropped his box of donation toys and pointed at your neck. This was two days after your tryst with Eddie, the night still fresh in your mind. The memory flashed through your head as Dustin rushed up and folded his arms over his chest like a disappointed parent.

“Are those hickies?”

"My god, Dustin. You have eyes," you said sarcastically, moving towards your room. "You should feel proud."

“And who gave you those?” He stood in your doorway, arms still crossed. “Hm? I don’t know you to ever go out with anyone.”

“You’re not always here to see me when I do or don’t go out.” You cleared your throat and grabbed a shirt to throw over your tank top. “And it’s none of your business.” 

“Yeah, uh-huh. Last time I checked, the only person you hung out with was…” Dustin’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, it was Eddie. It was Eddie? Eddie?”

You would never besmirch Eddie's good name. The town did that enough and you would never add onto that. His reputation did come in handy in this one scenario, though, because Eddie was the last person most would ever expect you to be paired with. And the mixture of disgust, confusion, and dot-connecting passing over Dustin made that clear enough. 

Had you agreed to tell Dustin, there wouldn’t have been any hesitation in letting him know. But Dustin wasn’t about to react well to that news. 

"Christ, really? You really think your Dungeon Master buddy and I are dating? Does Eddie really seem like the kinda guy who dates? Or the kind of guy I would date?" You cocked a brow to try and seem nonchalant. "It wasn't Munson, Dustin."

“Oh yeah, then who was it, huh?”

“None of your business.” You grabbed your door and slammed it shut. 

Dustin caught it. 

“It was so Eddie. Wow.”

You ground your teeth as Dustin looked at you so smugly about figuring out who it was. Except he couldn't know. He definitely couldn't know—especially not that you and Eddie weren't doing anything more than just…talking. Actually dating was a different story. But just sex? Nope. So in your panic, you went with the first thing you could think of. 

“Christ, Dustin. It was Steve.” You laughed a little nervously. “Alright? It was just Steve.”

“Harrington? Steve Harrington? My Steve?" 

“Happy?” You put your hands on your hips to stop them from shaking. “Don’t get your hopes up, alright? It was just us getting carried away. Nothing serious.” 

“Yeah.” Dustin was grinning like a madman. “Sure.”

He backed away from the door, nodding and going back to the dropped box. He looked like a proud little brother as he glanced back your way before going into his room. You exhaled slowly as you watched Dustin close his door. 

Oh, you were so fucked. 

You replayed the night during your drive. Every phantom feeling of Eddie against you threatened to pull your focus away from the road. It'd been all you thought about the past few days. You had no idea when you were going to see Eddie again, but when you did, it was going to be impossible to pretend the night hadn't happened. There was no way you'd even be able to sit in the same room as him without remembering the blanket pressing into your knees, his hand going to your hair, his cock hitting deeper and deeper with every rough thrust. 

Or how his fingers pressed into your cunt after.

You jerked your car into park and stared up at the Family Video sign. It wasn't busy inside, and you could see Steve and Robin walking around the store with the video cart. It was a solid fifty-fifty chance Steve would agree to help, and it was even worse odds if you wouldn't tell him why. So you had to bite the bullet. 

“I need a favor.” You stood beside Steve as he grabbed tape after tape from the cart. Robin was walking away with a handful of tapes to go help a customer at the desk.

“What’s up, Henderson?” Steve examined the cover of a movie.

“If Dustin asks, we had a date the other night.”

Steve sat it in its assignment spot and turned, his hands going to his hips as he looked at you. His eyes dropped to your very bare neck before flickering back up and for a second, over to where Robin was at the desk. 

“Why?” He narrowed his eyes. 

“Because I need to cover for someone else and you’re the only person Dustin would believe.” You gave him a playful smile and Steve nodded, his hair bouncing as he wasn’t sure where to look. “So, please. We don’t have to pretend to be like…anything. Just need you to say, 'yeah, that happened' if Dustin asks. And we both know Dustin will ask.”

Steve sucked in his cheeks and leaned against the cart, one hand holding his weight as he came close. 

“Tell me who you’re covering for and the answer’s yes.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Steve’s eyes glinted with curiosity. “Embarrassed?”

“No. But they’re not exactly your number one fan. And you’re not theirs.” 

His brows furrowed, mouth slightly parting before it hit him. He looked at you like he was personally offended and scoffed. Behind you, a few customers entered the aisle and Steve grabbed your arm. He pulled you aside, abandoning the cart and looked at you like you had a screw loose. 

“Munson?” 

“No comment.” You scrunched your nose at him and gave him a soft smile. 

“Oh my god, it was. Munson, that guy, really?” Steve ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Dustin loves the guy, why not just fess up?”

“Because apparently Dustin doesn’t want us interacting…like that. And if he finds out, he’ll flip. Besides, it might be weird if his friend suddenly starts seeing his sister. We’re trying to spare the Dustin reaction." You rubbed your neck where the hickies were fading. "Anyway, Dustin caught the hickies. I needed someone he would buy, and you were the first person I thought of."

“Well, I’m flattered.” Steve’s cheeks turned a bit pink and you shoved his shoulder. After a few seconds of deliberation, Steve nodded. “Fine, fine. If he asks, I won’t deny it. But I need a cover story. Dustin like details. What were we doing? Movie? Dinner?”

"We grabbed dinner with Robin. After dropping her off, we had a moment in your car. There. Easy." 

Steve nodded and ran a hand through his hair. The customers got closer, and he tugged you down the next aisle and up to the counter. He leaned against it and smacked it a few times, making Robin turn and give him a weird look. 

“What?” She looked from Steve to you. “Is he losing his mind?”

"No. Hey. Need a favor." Steve leaned his weight on both hands, and Robin crossed her arms. "We got dinner the other night, okay? The three of us. Probably won't come up, but just in case."

“Should I even ask what this is about?” Robin leaned back, but she was looking at you now. 

“No,” you and Steve said in unison. 

“Alright,” she said with narrowed eyes. “But I’m going to want an explanation eventually.”

You told Steve he could fill her in after you left, needing to get to work. It was a flood of relief as you pulled into the parking lot. Steve was a ride-or-die friend, that much you knew. Now Dustin just needed to believe him. Although literal blood relation aside, Dustin was more likely to believe Steve than you. 

It was a total of about eight hours before you had confirmation of that. 

Dustin burst into your room when you got home from work and stood in your doorway with a scrutinizing gaze. He looked like he wanted to quiz you about what’d happened, but all he’d said was, “I talked to Steve today.”

And all you’d answered with was a raise of your hands, the grabbing of your bedroom door, and the soft shove of Dustin’s shoulder before you closed it. 

That was that—Dustin thought you’d had a date with Steve and your night with Eddie was covered. Until you two wanted to talk again, but so long as Eddie didn’t leave any more hickies, you’d be in the clear. Probably. 

It was a fairly solid plan, too. Hell, you'd even had a joke about it when you invited Steve and Robin over for a movie night. With your mom out for a few hours, you were free to explain the situation to Robin in full detail and learn about the interrogation Dustin had given Steve. 

“Kid wanted to know everything, I’m serious. He was so smug, too.” Steve laughed as he grabbed a handful of popcorn. “Like he’d played matchmaker and we were getting married or some shit. I almost couldn’t go through with it based on that alone. Took a lot to convince him we weren’t actually dating. Don’t think he believed me, though. So fair warning about that.”

“Eh, it’s fine. He’ll figure it out after you go on your next date.” You sipped the beer Steve had brought with him. You were on your second one now that you were halfway through the movie. 

"Would you two shush?" Robin smacked Steve with a pillow and he held up the popcorn to avoid any snack casualties. "The movie is playing. Watch it like I'm trying to."

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Steve shoved Robin and settled into his spot on the middle of your couch. “We’re watching, we’re watching.” 

You cracked open your third beer, grinning as they bickered for a few more minutes. You weren't exactly watching the movie, but you were pretending. Your tipsy mind was fully on Eddie. On his calloused fingers, his soft lips, his assortment of tattoos. You had to hold the beer with an unforgiving grip as you thought about what his tongue felt like in other places besides your mouth. 

It was a blissful little moment of fantasy as the movie crept closer to the end credits. Even if your whole body was craving going back to Eddie’s trailer. But you couldn’t. Even if Steve and Robin weren’t there, it was Hellfire night. Eddie wouldn’t be there. So you had to suffer through another night without seeing him. And it was getting increasingly frustrating knowing you had exactly no way of contacting Eddie. 

You fell against Steve as the credits rolled. It was a comfortable tipsy as he sat up for the remote, laughing as he nudged you with his shoulder. 

"Wow, yammered on about us paying attention, and she's fast asleep." Steve motioned toward Robin.

“Mm, it was kind of boring at the end there.” You sat up and stretched. You weren’t tipsy enough for your words to slur, but Steve still laughed as you hiccuped. 

“You okay there, Henderson?”

“Mhm.” You picked up one of the other movies you’d intended on watching that evening. “Thanks again for going along with my plan.”

“Hm? Yeah.” Steve shrugged. “Did Dustin really say he didn’t want you and Eddie dating?”

“Different words, but according to Eddie, yeah. Big sister is off limits.” 

“The kid’s so protective.” Steve grinned and stood up, plucking a movie from your fingers and walking towards the VCR. “It’s actually kind of sweet.”

You hummed as you fell, head laying on Robin's side as she stirred. Steve squatted in front of the television as he rewound the first tape and put in the second movie. He got it started as your landline rang, and you and Robin both groaned. 

“I got it, I got it.” Steve jumped up, the only one not inebriated by alcohol or sleep. “Henderson residence, this is Steve speaking.”

You ignored Steve’s rambling as you got more comfortable on Robin. It lasted a few blissful seconds before Steve smacked your arm. You frowned up at him as you sat up. Even Robin gave him a scowl. 

“Your mom wants you to pick Dustin up from Hellfire. Supposed to rain and she doesn’t want him walking home in it.” Steve grabbed your arm. “Come on, up, up.”

“Steve, I’m too tipsy to drive.” But you still rolled off the couch. 

“No shit.” He grabbed the keys to his car and handed you your coat. He swung by the couch and grabbed the empty beer bottles, hiding them at the bottom of the kitchen bin as you shrugged your jacket on. “Robin, we’ll be back. Just keep sleeping.” 

“Okay,” she grunted, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and getting comfortable as you closed and locked your front door. 

You followed Steve out to his car, frowning as a few drops of rain started to fall. He chuckled as you flopped into the car, trying to wipe your face and sober up before you got there. 

“Why did you drag me along?” 

"Cause your mom is on her way home, and you need to sober up before she gets there. Besides, if she beats us back, it's gotta look like you picked him up, right?” 

“Smart man.” You pointed at Steve and nodded. 

"Two is your limit. Got it." Steve shoved your hand down and turned the radio up. 

You watched the familiar scenery as he drove to the school. The hum of the car was nice as you leaned your head against the door, the music a blur in the background. Steve poked you a few times to make sure you were still awake, even if the drive wasn't long enough to fall asleep. You swatted him away each time, but you were getting to the point where you wanted to fall asleep.

You weren't sobering up fast enough when Steve pulled into the lot and he poked you again. 

“What room are they in? I’ll run in and tell them we’re here.” 

"Don't remember. Just know how to get to it." You pushed the passenger door open and slid out. Steve cursed as he rushed out of his seat and threw an arm around your waist. "Okay, okay. Come on you drunk, can't go rushing out like that. Especially in the rain. I thought you were going to hurt yourself."

"I'm not drunk." You gave Steve a playful glare as you jerked the school's doors open and he followed you inside. "Come on, let's go get my brother."

You were a giggling mess by the time you got to the classroom. Steve's cheeks were red as he laughed along with you, bouncing between concern and amusement as you listed off nonsensical stories. Something about reminiscing about high school but the stories came out as nothing understandable. You were hanging off of Steve's shoulder when you finally got to the room and pointed at the door. 

"Shit, maybe we ought to get you some coffee on our way back."

“No, no. I’m sobering up. I’m fine.” 

You swung the door open and Steve caught it with his other hand. You felt another bubble of laughter as you peered inside at the group of guys mid-packing up. Mike and Lucas looked at you and Steve like they didn't believe what they saw, and Dustin had a wide, shit-eating grin. One that doubled as Steve's arm went around your waist as you shook with stifled laughter. 

"Mom wanted me to pick you up. But I'm a little…" You motioned to yourself, and Steve put his hand on your head. 

"Ignore her. I'm playing driver tonight, Henderson. Wheeler, Sinclair, you two want a ride back too?" Steve pushed down on your head again when you tried to protest. "Might need the extra few minutes to get this one to sober up." 

“I’m not drunk.” You tried to shove Steve, but he wasn’t budging. 

“Yeah, sure you aren’t.” Steve scoffed and mussed your hair. 

“Told you,” Dustin whispered not so quietly to Mike and Lucas. “Dating.”

"Yeah, alright. Let's go, Henderson." Steve snapped at the kids. "We'll be outside. I'm going to splash some water on your sister's face."

“You absolutely will not.” 

"Nope." Steve turned you, both hands on your hips as he guided you back towards the front of the building. "I'll just leave you out in the rain for a bit." 

You thought he was serious for a total of five seconds when he shoved the doors open and held you near the edge of the overhang. You squirmed in his grasp, and he pulled you back, laughing as you smacked his arm. It was nice, though, standing there beside Steve as you waited. You leaned against the side of the building, listening to the rainfall. Steve seemed comfortable with the silence until you took a long breath and the fits of giggles finally stopped coming. 

“Munson did not look happy to see me.” Steve lolled his head to the side, giving you a very specific look. “Granted, I think that might’ve had to do with you being there.” 

Your eyes closed and you cursed softly. Of course Eddie wouldn’t be happy to see you and Steve there together. And after everything that’d happened the past few years, you and Steve were beyond comfortable with each other. It was real easy for the comfortability to translate into something else to another’s eyes. 

“Shit.”

You hadn't even looked at Eddie when you opened the classroom door.

"Want me to distract the kids, give you a second to talk to him?" Steve tugged on your hair. "Think I can manage that fairly easily."

You weren’t given a chance to answer. The doors opened and you and Steve pushed up from the wall as the group sauntered out. Your eyes fell to Eddie who was already lighting up a cigarette as Steve spun his keys on his finger. Eddie’s eyes were dark and he cocked a brow, his bag hanging from one shoulder as the kids looked at you with disbelief. 

“No way.” Mike shook his head. “You two? No way.” 

“It’s too weird,” Lucas added. 

“Told you.” Dustin was grinning as he started towards Steve’s car. “Told you.”

"Alright, kiddos, let's go. Come on." Steve grabbed Dustin and Lucas by their backpacks and shoved them towards the car. "You too, Wheeler." 

You took a few slow steps to follow the four guys towards the car. Eddie side-stepped from the rest of Hellfire, clearing his throat as he tapped his cigarette with his thumb. He very purposefully didn’t look at you as you paused next to him. 

“Henderson.” 

“Sorry about interrupting,” you said softly. 

When your eyes met, there was a flicker behind them that reminded you of what he'd said that night. 

“You know, this is all I'm gonna be thinking about next time I see you. Every second of tonight. Gonna come pick your brother and his friends up and I'm just going to be looking at you, remembering you just like this." 

You, on all fours, stuffed with his fingers and his cum, as he pushed you over the edge again. 

Your breath hitched and Eddie's mouth tipped into the faintest goddamn smirk. It lasted until he glanced back at the car, watching the four guys try to get their shit into it while the rain came down around them. Steve peered up and purposefully went a little slower. 

“We were packing up, don’t worry about it.” Eddie leaned closer. Not enough for anyone to think anything of it, but enough to smell his minty soap beneath the smoke. “But do it again while we’re still in session, let alone with Harrington? I’ll throw you out myself.” 

Your cheeks burned and it took Eddie nodding at your car to remember you were supposed to leave. You cleared your throat and sprinted out into the rain, jerking the door open and sliding in. Steve, not leaving the kids to question your second long hesitation beside Eddie, nudged you after starting the car. 

“Everything okay there?” He glanced at Eddie through the window. 

“Yeah, just apologizing for interrupting.” You wiped the rain from your face as Steve pulled away. 

Behind you, you listened to the three kids argue about the campaign from that night and whatever the hell was going on between you and Steve. He had to reiterate that you two weren’t dating about five different times until it was just you, Dustin, and him in the car. 

Dustin stayed smugly quiet the rest of the time. Even as you pulled into your driveway and went back inside. He said goodnight to your mom who was already back, silently making up a snack in the kitchen as Robin slept on the couch. Steve quietly greeted your mom before walking over to Robin and shaking her shoulder. 

“We’ll head out. Get some rest,” he whispered, shaking Robin a little harder when she grunted in response to his action. “Hey, I’ll pick you up and carry you out. Don’t make me.”

“Fine,” Robin groaned. “Night, (Y/N).”

"Night, you two," you murmured. 

Steve gave you a final shoulder pat and squeeze before leaving. It was a silent good luck. One you knew you'd need for the next time you got to see Eddie—especially if it was alone. You just weren't sure when that was going to happen. But you did have one other worry as you retreated to your room that night after cleaning up the living room. 

How much had Eddie heard Dustin talk about you and Steve if Mike and Lucas were also aware of it? Granted, Dustin was far more likely to bring it up with those two over Eddie. But if he wasn't afraid to mention it during the club, it probably meant he'd mentioned it in front of Eddie before. So what the hell had Eddie been hearing? 

It bothered you the whole night. So much that you'd barely gotten any restful sleep. Fucked you over for the next day, and you pointedly ignored Dustin's smug look during breakfast. When he tried to ask you about it, you brushed him off with the same answers Steve had given. You weren't dating, and you weren't seeing each other. It was a one-off thing that you two had no intention of repeating. 

It still bugged you at work, and you wished you'd worked a morning shift so you could try and track Eddie down after. But you were coming home when it was dark and you needed a long shower after a shift spent worrying about what was going to happen with Eddie. The warm water was nice until it wasn't. 

You went from worrying to daydreaming. To recalling the fucked out feeling as Eddie’s fingers pushed into your cunt, the wetness seeping down your thighs. You couldn’t bring yourself to jerk the water to cold and when you stepped out in your towel, you stared at yourself in the mirror. You bit your lip as you recalled your reflection in Eddie’s mirror, the mascara tracks left on your cheeks, the desperation in your face as he fucked you so fucking well. 

You hung your towel up and changed into your pajamas. 

Flopping onto your bed face down after closing your door, you groaned into your pillow as you tried to push the memory out. You were working yourself up too much just thinking about it. And with your mom still in the living room watching the last chunk of her show, you weren't going to risk starting something that she could interrupt with a knock on your door. Odds were that she wouldn't, but you weren't about to risk it. 

You took up rolling onto your back, flipping your stereo on, and trying to read instead. 

It lasted a chapter before you heard a little tapping on your window. It scared you enough that you nearly screamed, but you caught it, carefully lowering your book and sliding off your bed. You picked up the first heavy thing you could find—an old trophy from a spelling bee in elementary school—and held it up as you jerked your curtain aside. 

That scream turned into a curse when you saw those big brown eyes looking at you, a devilish grin on those sweet lips. Eddie nodded at the window and you gave him such a panicked look as you tried to open it slowly. Too fast and it'd creak and draw attention. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You were trying to speak as softly as you could while still getting the panic through. 

Eddie snuck inside as gracefully as he could, almost knocking over one of your lamps. 

“Wasn’t this your dream?” He stood slowly and glanced down at your trophy in your hands, and he held up his own. “Missed you, Henderson. Forgive me. I’ll go if you want me to.”

“You can’t be here.” You stepped over and turned your stereo up slightly. “They’ll fucking catch you, Eddie.”

"I can be quiet when I need to be." He glanced over at your bed. "Do you want me to go, Henderson? Say the word, and I'm right back out that window."

“Eddie.” You folded your arms across your chest and glared at him. 

He stepped closer, hands dropping to your waist and guiding you towards him. You dropped the trophy the second his hands touched you—you’d missed it so much. You’d missed him. And Eddie skimmed them up your waist, cocking a brow as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. 

His mouth hovered over yours.

“Do you want me to go?” 

“No,” you breathed.

Eddie smirked and walked you back towards your bed. He kicked his shoes off as he pressed his mouth to yours, keeping the kiss nice and slow. The smirk stayed as you sighed, trying to get more and more from it, but Eddie didn’t give it. Not even when he laid you down on your bed, crawling slowly over you and pressing you into the mattress. Hell, as soon as he had you pinned, his hands slid up underneath your shirt and his mouth pivoted, nipping along your jaw until you were biting your lip to silence the sighs. 

“So Harrington left those hickies last time, right?” Eddie’s teeth dug into your neck before he sucked on the skin. “That’s what they all think?”

“I was going to try and warn you,” you huffed. “D-Didn’t get the chance to see you.”

“It was quite the surprise when Dustin mentioned how his big sister finally started seeing cool guy Harrington.” Eddie chuckled when his fingers danced over your chest. He tweaked your nipples, sternly shushing you when you made the softest noise. “Shush, Henderson. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking you snuck Harrington in, would you?”

“Eddie.” You tugged on his shirt as he continued to tease your nipples, mouth lifting as he pulled your shirt up to expose your chest. You clenched your jaw, eyes glancing over to your door as Eddie bared you. “We’ve told Dustin multiple times we’re not dating. I just needed the c-cover after he saw the hickies.”

“You sure there’s nothing there between you two? Looked real close the other night.” Eddie swiped his fingers over your nipples before dropping his head and taking one into his mouth. You hissed as he ran his tongue over it, teeth barely grazing it. “You sure you two aren’t together?”

"Y-You sound jealous." You choked on a whimper, and Eddie's head jerked up. 

"Maybe I am." Eddie's hand slid down to your sleep shorts and wasted no time slipping beneath the waistband. His fingers found your clit, and he ran slow movements over it. He put his hand over your mouth as your eyes shut and a sigh pushed out of your mouth. "Harrington gets to come over and watch movies. Harrington gets to see you drunk. Harrington gets to hold you up and touch you without anyone batting an eye.”

Eddie scoffed as your legs opened a bit more for him, hips moving to try and grind against his fingers. 

“Harrington doesn’t get to you like this though, does he? Doesn’t get you trying to grind yourself on my fingers.” Eddie drew his tongue over your nipple. “Doesn’t get to see his cum leaking out of that pretty pussy.” 

You ground your teeth at the memory, and Eddie only slowed his movements on your clit. 

“Yeah, I might be a little jealous.” Eddie’s eyes flickered up to yours. “But I am by far still the winner.” 

Eddie moved underneath you. His knees kept yours open, your sleep shorts thrown aside. Your shirt was bunched underneath your chin, his mouth was on your jaw, and one hand closed around your throat. He whispered shhh in your ear as his grip tightened on your throat and his fingers went down and teased your clit. 

Your curtain was still cast aside, window still open, and you could hear your mom moving around in the living room as Eddie rubbed your clit. 

“This?” He pressed his fingers a little hard against you. “This is all mine, baby, isn’t it?”

You nodded. Eddie being possessive was not what you'd expected, and despite it being only the second time you were…talking…you were entirely okay with it. 

“You know what else is mine?” 

"Hm?" You closed your eyes as Eddie's fingers worked you closer to the edge. You'd missed him far more than you'd realized, your body, too. Your orgasm was inching closer way faster than you'd liked. 

“This mouth,” he said as he lifted his hand from your clit and had you suck on two of his fingers. They pulled out with a soft pop and he sighed. He bucked his hips underneath you. “That asshole, too.” 

His fingers went back to your clit, rubbing a little faster as his hand tightened on your throat. Your heels dug into your mattress as the pleasure coiled and twisted. 

"After you cream in those panties, I'm going to see how many fingers you can take." He bit down on your shoulder. "Gonna fuck that pretty pussy nice and slow and stuff that tight asshole with as much as it can take. Because it's mine. You're mine." 

You reached up and grabbed his wrist, nails digging into his skin as you tried to fight off the intensity of your orgasm. You bit your lip, terrified that you weren't going to be able to stay quiet, and it got all the worse when you heard the floor creaking near the front of the hall. But Eddie, even as he glanced over at your door, made no intention of stopping. He just squeezed your throat a little more and slipped his hand underneath your underwear, immediately going back to rubbing your clit. 

That was all you could take. 

You hissed out a moan that he kissed away as you came, orgasm slamming against you and making your whole body tense. Your back arched off of him as he continued to touch your clit, his fingers merciless as a few tears snuck down your cheeks during your attempt to stay quiet. 

Your walls fluttered around nothing as you panted, relaxing against him as you soaked your underwear. Eddie scoffed, hand going down to palm your cunt and pressing it hard against you. You could feel exactly how much you were soaking his hand.

“On all fours.”

"E-Eddie," you panted, glancing at your door. The floorboards of the hallway continued to squeak and you heard your cat meow as your mom talked to it. 

“All fours, (Y/N).” He pulled his hand from you and let go of your throat. He tapped your hips with his clean hand and, on shaky legs, you rolled over. 

He took a handful of your hair and tugged back as you buried your face into your pillow. He had your underwear off, legs nudged apart, cock slowly pushing into you. He moved so slow that it was close to agony. He had to make sure your bed didn’t creak, so his hips kept a lazy, careful pace. And his fingers? After gathering some slick from your cunt, teased your asshole. 

He started with only part of one, slowly pushing it in and humming as you clenched around his cock. You clawed at your blanket, trying your damnedest to keep silent. But Eddie took that as a challenge, muttering about how good you looked with your ass up, taking his cock and his finger, even with your window wide open and your family right outside. Letting him fuck you so damn dirty because you must've missed him so much. 

“I did. I do.” You bit down on your pillow. “I missed you. S-So much.”

“I know.” Eddie pushed his finger in until you took it to the knuckle. “I missed you too.” 

You gasped as his cock hit your sweet spot, and you wrapped your pillow around your head as much as it could. Eddie, with a grin you could feel, teased a second find, making sure it was as lubed up as it could be and you slammed a hand against the mattress as it stretched you. The burn ripped through you as Eddie’s cock repeatedly hit your spongy spot, making you see stars behind your eyelids. 

His soft chuckle was all the praise you needed as he slowly moved his fingers. 

Eddie dared a little faster, a little harder. He pushed a few stifled moans from you in the process, carefully moving his fingers until your body was shaking. You clenched around him again, your second orgasm moving closer and closer as he stuffed you. You thought you were going to split in two just from him having two fingers in you, and when Eddie teased a third, the burn bordering on painful, you felt yourself clenched around his cock. 

Then Dustin’s door opened and his feet patted down the hall to the bathroom.

You tried to reach back, but Eddie was already stopping, hips flush against your ass. The bathroom door closed and you continued to hold your breath, orgasm so fucking close as Eddie stayed deep inside you. And then, when the toilet flushed and the sink ran, Eddie had the audacity to move his fingers again. 

The hand he had in your hand dropped and went to your clit. 

You trembled under him, stuck between wanting to curse his name and throw a pillow at him as you heard the bathroom door open and shut. But he didn't stop. He kept his fingers moving until you were trying not to cry against the pillow. He chuckled when you couldn't hold back the inevitable, his fingers on your clit pushing you over the edge, and you hugged your pillow to your face. 

You came around him, back bowing, walls clenching tight around his cock and his fingers. He pressed his hips as hard as he could against you, only slightly moving them, as Dustin retreated to his room and shut his door. 

“Good girl,” he mused, hand dropping from your clit and rubbing your lower back. “Didn’t make a sound and still came nice and hard for me.”

You started to say his name as sternly as you could without yelling, but Eddie started to move his hips again. And the only thing you could do was put your face back into your pillow to keep yourself from making any loud noises. 

His thrusts stayed nice and slow the whole time, hand going back to your hair and tugging harshly as he fucked you. And he fucked you until you were panting and near-silent whimpering. A hiss left him a little louder than it should’ve but neither of you said a word about it. 

His hips were losing rhythm as he pulled his fingers out of your ass and he dropped them to your clit, using his thumb to tease the already oversensitive bundle of nerves. But it didn’t take much to push you over the edge. You were already there before he touched you, and those few swipes were more than enough to send you spiraling. 

You were almost blinded by your orgasm as you tried not to sob, Eddie’s hips stuttering and stalling. You felt him cum just as you did, a quiet groan pushing out of him as he rutted himself deep into your cunt. Your bed squeaked a bit, but neither of you could do anything about it as Eddie filled you. 

Wetness pooled down your thighs as he pulled out. 

Your bed creaked as you fell to your side, reminded of gravity as you rolled onto your back and peered up at Eddie. He was tucking himself back into his pants when you drew your eyes over him. He grinned as he held up one finger to his lips and your brows furrowed as he dropped to his stomach. 

You gasped as he pushed your legs back, hands beneath your knees. He glanced down at your cunt, a bit of his cum leaking out and down to where you already felt a little sore. He licked his lips and held your gaze as he licked from your entrance to your clit. You clawed desperately at your mattress as his tongue swirled around your clit before he sucked it into his mouth and groaned. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmured before lapping at your clit. “Not fucking close.”

He made you cum two more times. Once with just his mouth, tongue teasing your clit until you were shaking and trying not to moan his name. And then again as he pushed his fingers back into your cunt, finding your spongy spot and not stopping until you were fully crying. You had one hand in his hair the whole time, struggling between wanting to keep him firm in his spot and wanting to tug him off. It was too much and it felt too good and you weren't sure you were going to be able to hold back. 

But Eddie stayed right there until you came again, fucking gushing over his fingers and down onto your quilt. You’d have to wash it the next day and that might raise a few questions, but you didn’t care then. You were too busy having your fourth orgasm and becoming absolutely fucking drunk on whatever Eddie did to you.

He stayed on your clit until you whined his name, kissing your thighs as he lowered your legs back to the bed. 

He grabbed a tissue from the small box you kept beside your bed. He wiped his fingers with one, grabbed another and wiped between your legs. Your eyes cracked open and he peered up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His tongue darted out and licked the corner of his mouth, eyes glinting as he stared at you completely fucked out. 

He crawled up the bed and kissed you, grinning as you sighed, tasting yourself and him on his tongue. 

“Sorry.” He kissed where he’d been holding your throat earlier. “Got a little jealous of Harrington. Needed to see you. I did not mean to get so carried away.” 

“Don’t apologize,” you whispered, dragging your thumb over his bottom lip. “You’ll hear no complaints from me.”

“Yeah?” He cocked a brow and kissed your nose. “What, no lecture about how we’re not together. That I got no right to be jealous of Harrington?” 

“Eddie.” You narrowed your eyes. “I’m much more than what’s between my legs. If that’s yours, then it’s safe to say the rest of me is as well. When I said I missed you, I missed more than just your dick.”

A faint blush tinged his cheeks, and he glanced over towards your door. 

"Guess we ought to get you a walkie-talkie of your own. Find our own frequency. Cause I don't know if I can go so long without talking with you. Not seeing you was already hard enough." He swallowed hard. "And I'm actually talking about talking. Not just…this.”

"Yeah, I got that." You kissed his nose, and Eddie melted against you. "I'll get one, and we'll figure it out."

“Good.” He nodded, but he froze as soon as you did, the sound of Dustin’s door opening again. 

“(Y/N),” he groaned from down the hall. “Turn your damn music down.”

His footsteps got closer and the feel-good moment was gone as you and Eddie both jumped up. Except where you had a bit of panic on your face, Eddie was grinning madly as he pulled his shoes back on and went to your window. 

"Henderson," he whispered as you pulled your clothes back on. He was already outside, the smirk still there. You motioned for you to come over and you glared, Dustin's footsteps getting closer. "I was serious about what I said the other day. You interrupt Hellfire, especially with Harrington by your side, no hesitation—I'm throwing you out."

He tapped your window before stepping back and running off. You stared out after him, glaring as he tried not to make too much noise as he left. You were drawing your curtain back and walking towards your radio as Dustin threw your door open. His face was riddled with sleep as he rubbed his eyes and glared at you. 

He looked from you to your radio to your curtain and then back to you as you turned the volume down. 

“Thank you,” he said dramatically, turning and going back to his room. His door shut with a soft click and you let out the breath you’d been holding. 

You leaned your back against your door as you shut it and closed your eyes. 

Holy shit. That was too close of a call.

When you went back to close your window, though, a small red piece of plastic caught your attention. Your heart couldn’t do anything but soar as you picked up the metal chain and held the pick between your fingers. You gave it a tight squeeze and shut your window, slipping it on before you turned your lamp off and climbed in bed. 

You played with the chain as you closed your eyes. 

You were definitely going to go out and buy a walkie-talkie after work tomorrow. 

[theflowerrooms]

do any of u ppl have requests 👊😛

[theflowerrooms]

His Game • spencer’s masterlist • petal’s masterlist

Pick Up The Pieces

back to chapter 7

Dark!Spencer Reid x afab!reader, kidnapping fic, no use of y/n

Chapter Warnings: angst, kidnapping, mentions of drugging, physical abuse, aggressive behaviour, manipulative behaviour, smut, coercion, riding, unprotected piv sex, biting, light praise

chapter summary; Where are you? Here, of course. With Spencer. Of course.

word count: 2.3k

The highway was so loud. Tires against the ground, spinning, grinding, it made you feel like your ears were going to bleed. The droning sound buzzed with your ears, vibrated your skin. Hadn't you left the highway?

You blink your eyes open, head pounding, neck sore. Your eyes found the green wall of the bedroom Spencer had given you. Right back where you started, with Milo curled up next to you. You couldn't ignore the twinge of relief you felt, being back here, back in this cell, back under his eyes.

You rolled from your side to your back, whimpering as you did. You sort of remembered what happened. You remembered the highway, remembered running away from in stead of toward it.

You remembered getting back to the bunker, seeing that camera, and then seeing... nothing.

You remembered the feeling in the back of your neck, and it wasn't hard to piece together what had happened. Etorphine maybe? Something like that.

You shot up to a sitting position when you heard a sniffling sound, your eyes finding Spencer's where he stood at the foot of the bed you rested on.

His eyes were puffy and red, lips chapped and bitten raw, his hair was a mess and you could tell his hands had been running through it. You could tell he'd been crying and you felt nothing but intense guilt. He didn't say anything, and neither did you. He just watched you. You sat up a little straighter.

Were you supposed to talk? you didn't know what there possibly was to say. You didn't know how to navigate this situation, and it was clear that neither did he.

You chewed your lip. "Spence-"

"Shut the fuck up." He cut you off and you closed your mouth immediately. Naturally obedient or just terrified? He wasn't sure and neither were you.

He stalked over to the side of the bed, long legs making their way toward you. You looked up at him, hands trembling with nerves, with fear and with guilt.

His large hand reached down and grabbed your jaw. His fingers digging into your skin as he angled your head to look up at him. You'd have bruises you were sure. But he was so angry, so hurt, you could see it radiating off of him. If these were the worst bruises you'd gotten today, that would be remarkably lucky.

You whimpered as his grip tightened more. He didn't speak, just staring into your eyes. You saw tears creep up over his waterline, and you watched him will them away.

He dropped his hand from your face, fists clenching at his sides before they relaxed. He got on the bed in front of you, and you wanted to inch away, but you didn't.

Sitting across from one another, he let out a shaky breath. "Why would you do that to me?" He asked, voice shaky and muddy with tears.

Your chest burned, you wanted to cry too. "I-" you started to answer, but his hand found your chin again and pushed you back, slamming the back of your head against the headboard.

You let out a sound, a weak yelp, wincing as he pressed your head painfully against the wood.

"Why the fuck would you do that?" He asked again, louder, his hand shook against your skin.

"I-" "Why would you leave me?" He wouldn't let you talk, raising his voice again, his dull nails digging into the skin of your cheeks. A tear fell from your eye onto his hand, and it only made him grip you harder.

"I-I came back-" You tried to explain yourself, but that wasn't the right choice, his hand pulled back and smacked you across the face.

You pushed yourself up right just as fast as you had fallen to the side. Your ears burned, cheek hot as his handprint appeared. "Spencer-" You started and he hit you again.

You grabbed your face in your hands as you cried, and you could hear him cry too. You waited for him to calm down, waited to calm down yourself. "I- I." You sniffed, you didn't know what to say, how to explain yourself. "I didn't- didn't want to leave you- but I needed to go home-"

"This is your home." He cut you off curtly, his lip trembling to match yours. You frowned further. He had to have known what you meant,but maybe his emotional side was taking over the genius side.

You chewed your lip. Home wasn't a house, it was your family and your job, your friends.

"Spencer.. I... I miss-"

"You miss Derek?" Spencer assumed bitterly, saying Derek's name like it was poisonous. He was definitely acting on emotion rather than logic, his jealousy and possessiveness blinding him to the reasons you felt were so obvious.

"I... miss my mom Spencer." Your voice cracked and his face softened just slightly. He knew what you were missing, he had to. His feelings were just hurt right now, and it was your fault.

He leaned back, away from you, and the slight distance both made it easier to think and harder to breathe.

His hands rubbed over his face, smoothing over worried skin, before he ran his fingers through his hair for what you could only imagine was the hundredth time.

He sighed and looked at you with glassy eyes. "I can't understand why you left angel.." He said, voice cracking and it broke your heart.

"Spencer, I came back." You insisted, and he knew it was true, he watched you go back. Still it didn't sooth him, he only grew more agitated.

He leaned forward, eyes wild and broken. "That doesn't matter, what matters is that you left." He spoke, clearly trying to come off stern and supportive, but he only looked afraid and vulnerable.

You contemplated what to say. Spencer was smart enough for you to have a good conversation, for you to explain what you felt.

Except right now it wasn't that simple, you weren't sure how capable of logical thinking Spencer was right now, not when he was so upset.

"I'm sorry... that I left you. I'm happy here, that's why I came back, you're so good to me." You started. You weren't trying to feed into his ego, but it was making him feel significantly better.

"Spencer I just need you to understand that.. I miss my family, and I miss working, and- and going for walks in the park- being able to go for walks in the park..." You spoke, stopping when he began to nod.

"I- I know it's not easy.. to be stuck here." His eyes timidly met yours. "I need you to understand that I need you here.. to keep you safe. You're mine, mine to love, and to protect, and how can I protect you if I don't keep you in one spot." He frowned and so did you.

All you could do was stare at him after? You didn't have a rebuttal, this wasn't a conversation that you knew how to have.

Slowly he moved closer, bringing a gentle hand up to your face, timidly swiping his fingertips over your damp cheek. "I'm sorry this isn't ideal." He said in a whisper.

'This isn't ideal' like you weren't a literal kidnapping victim, repeatedly drugged and beaten and stolen from anything you've ever known or loved. But you couldn't bring yourself to feel that way. You knew what condition so many kidnapping victims were kept in, and you were much better off than a lot of them were. You were blessed.

"I'm sorry that I left." you whispered back to him, eyes digging into his. For the most part, Spencer was so sweet and gentle with you. You leaned into his hand on your face. You craved the tenderness more than you realized. You needed it so bad, the bruises were worth it to earn the gentle affection.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, almost smiling and your chest ached with relief, he wasn't so angry anymore. "I'm glad you came back." He whispered, leaning forward and kissing your forehead. "Are you really happy here?" He asked, and you nodded against his touch. "Prove it to me." He said before leaning back on his hands.

You didn't know what he meant, examining his teary eyes, lips bitten raw, twitching hands, and finally, the slight tent in his slacks. Heat rose to your cheeks as you shuffled closer to him, kissing him gently, to which he kissed you back immediately.

He helped you take your shirt off, finger tips gliding across your skin and leaving goosebumps to pebble in their wake. You took your pants off, along with your panties, as he unbuckled his belt tor you.

Pulling him out was your job. Your hand wrapping around him, long and warm. You heard a noise come from him, deep in his chest as your hand moved up and down him slowly.

You felt a rush of nervousness, but when you looked up to him, and saw that reassuring, assertive look in his eyes, your anxiety settled, and you crawled into his lap, your thighs on either side of his waist.

His lips found your forehead as you spat on your hand, bringing slick fingertips down and between your legs, swiping them between your lips to make sure you were ready to take him.

His shoulders tensed in anticipation as you gripped them, lifting yourself up, lining him up, and then very slowly sinking down.

He breathed slowly, and you matched him, deep breaths in and out as he parted you and pushed past your walls, until you let yourself move down, until your ass was flush against the inner half of his his thighs, the thatch of hair above his cock warm against your clit, and his balls, heavy under your ass.

You whimpered and he did to, at just the sound.

His hands rested on your hips, fingers digging lightly into the soft flesh there.

"G-good." He praised, sounding nearly pained as you finally began moving. Shifting up before letting gravity help you back down.

You did it again and again, before his grip tightened on your hips and he helped you move up and down, up and down. At first, you'd held back any noises you felt inclined to make, but soon you were whimpering into the crook of his neck as you slammed your ass down onto him, praying that every positive and negative feeling he'd ever forced upon you was felt in each thrust of yourself onto him.

His lips found your shoulder and you screamed as he was suddenly biting you, his teeth digging into your skin, claiming you in one more way. His hands would leave bruises on your hips, but you wouldn't be surprised if his shoulders didn't end up with bruises from your grip, scratches from your nails.

It wasn't long before your knees began to ache, but each soft groan and sigh that fell from his chapped lips kept you going, encouraging you to move faster, squeezing around him, sucking him into you like he was meant to be there, because maybe he was.

His lips dragged along the side of your face, almost kissing your skin but not quite. He placed his lips on yours eventually, swallowing the moan you let out, and moaning against your kiss in return as you picked up the pace.

He could feel himself getting closer and closer to his orgasm. You could feel his hand gliding down your stomach and between your legs, searching for and finding your clit. He was an abuser, a kidnapper, murderer, but he was not the kind of man who would cum before you did.

You nearly screamed at his fingers, fast and steady against your clit, moving in tight circles in order to pull you along with him, bring you right next to him on the edge.

You clenched around him as he twitched inside of you. "Ask first." He said, voice strained. You whimpered again louder.

"Please?"

"Please what?"

You whined, head falling back and allowing his lips to suck on your neck. Your legs shook and your chest heaved. "Please can I cum? Please?" You whined and he moaned, nodding against the side of your head before you were both cumming in unison, his fingers tearing at your sides while your body quivered over his. Each of you moaned together, in a symphony.

He rubbed your back, nimble fingers tended along your spine. You hid your teary eyes in his neck, you weren't upset, you didn't need to cry, but your body was bringing you there anyway.

You're pretty sure he could tell, whispers of 'it's okay' and "you're okay' in your ear.

Slowly, after you had both caught your breath, after a good amount of his cum had slipped out of you and down his balls, he leaned you both forward, pulling out of you and letting you lay on your back.

Your eyes closed quickly and he didn't protest. A kiss on your cheek and a loving hand in your hair."I took a leave of absence." He speaks softly. "I'm not going anywhere for a little while." He said.

It should've sounded like a threat but instead it was calming, exhilarating. He peppered kisses over your back as you rolled onto your stomach, hiding your tired smile in the pillow but he saw it anyway.

"I'm going to take a shower... but I'll be right here when you wake up angel." He whispered in your hair before getting up and walking away.

And for the first time, being apart from him didn't give you any new sense of clarity. You felt the exact same as you did, with your arms around each other and him deep inside you while you recount how much you truly love him.

@niyahwhoreworld @tuesday-yellowxx @sauveur-de-lenfer @eddies-van86 @the-sun-died-out @aesthetics-villa @bucknastyyy21 @giasssslife @bunny-script @ceramic-raven @amberpanda99 @thinkingaboutcows @cosavuoi-me @academiareid @rentaldarling @shalissathiq @scentedharmonymiracle @archerxnn @wilcherwatchers @taintedstranger @dollissante @mysticwonderlandinternet @applelovesposts

[elegantpaperoperatormaker]

PLSPSLSPSLSPSLS MORE DARK!EDDIE ARTTFJDJSJKDJFH PLEASE😢

Devil Inside

Kinda Dark!Eddie Munson x Innocent!Reader

Summary: Jason Carver sent his sweet, innocent girlfriend to pick up his ‘fix’ from the town freak—a big mistake on his part, but a glorious little surprise for Eddie. An even better surprise comes when he finds out you think you have to foot the bill.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!!! Smut, cheating (not on Eddie), little bit of dark!Eddie, really Eddie’s just a pervy manipulator who’s kind of in love with you, unprotected anal, slut shaming (the girls of Hawkins—not reader), porn with very little plot, corruption kink, maybe dubcon but you’re fully consenting—you just don’t know Jason already paid, skewed idea of virginity (the classic: butt sex doesn’t count as losing it), virgin!innocent!inexperienced!reader, cream pie in the asssss, Eddie lowkey gets off on your pain but he’s overall very sweet, mentions of drugs and drug dealing, sex in exchange for goods, perv!Eddie, if I missed anything pls lmk

Song Rec: Devil Inside by INXS

A/N: Smut so good it made the author wet fr, I'm not even kidding lmao. I’m really excited for you guys to read this, but I’m trying to prepare myself for low levels of interaction because I fear the label of ‘dark’ will turn people away—no matter how lite I made this. I’ve literally thought about this idea for three years. The moment I saw Eddie and Jason on screen, I was like, ‘I need to read a fic where Eddie manipulates Jason’s girlfriend into fucking the freak.’

Masterlist

Submission Guidelines

It wasn’t Eddie’s fault that Jason sent his pretty, innocent little girlfriend to collect his weed for him. And it wasn’t Eddie’s fault that you didn’t know Jason had already paid. Of course, being the sweet angel that you are, when Eddie informed you of the outstanding balance, you fretted over your lack of dollar bills. But Eddie’s a gentleman, he’d never make a lady pay…in cash, that is. 

“And you’re sure he won’t find out?” 

Eddie watches you fiddle with your fingers, then the hem of your skirt. You’re so worried Jason will somehow find out, but you’d rather risk that than get yelled at for failing to pick up the goods.

“No, of course not, angel,” he assures, tilting his head to catch your concerned gaze—god, he’s so hard. 

“A–And it’s not…um…I’ll still be a virgin if we do it…”

A wicked grin spreads across his face—you can’t even say the words; he’s going to have so much fun with you. Jason should’ve never trusted The Freak with his girl. 

“In the ass?” he finishes, relishing the little flinch you give at his lewd words. “Yeah, baby. You know…I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it before.” 

His light tone eases your worries—this is no big deal, just a…well, a deal.

“All the girls do it ‘cause they wanna stay virtuous for their future husbands,” he waves his hands in the air, mocking the meaningless word. Yeah, the girls of Hawkins are pretty virtuous. Taking it up the ass six ways to Sunday—that’ll get God to notice them, alright. “Just like you. You’ll still be all proper and…intact.” 

His cock jumps in his pants at the idea that you’ll be any sort of ‘intact’ once he’s done with you. He feels like a predator luring prey into a trap—he’s never been harder. 

“O–Okay. As long as…I just wanna give it to…someone I love,” you say shyly, almost embarrassed by the sentiment of saving yourself. You’re not quite sure if Jason is that someone, but he’s enough company for now.

It takes everything in Eddie not to growl at the way you’re like a little lamb, or an unblemished fruit, ripe for the taking. Closing the space between you, he peels off his jacket, smirking as your wide eyes follow his every move.

Once he lays the material down on the wooden bench of the old picnic table behind you, he gently guides you to kneel on the cushioned spot. Your heart flutters at the realization that he wants you to be comfortable. He’s so nice—you really don’t understand why Jason’s always so mean to him.

With a large, warm hand between your shoulder blades, he guides you down to lean onto the table. “Have you ever done anything before, angel?” 

Your face heats up at the intrusive question. Despite your current position, the answer feels more revealing. “Um…one time I let Jason touch me, b–but that’s–that’s about it.”

With your attention on the naked trees in front of you and the faintest glimpse of the school in the distance, he reacts freely—rolling his eyes back, looking to the sky, and thanking every obscure force and deity for the plentiful bounty they've so delicately placed in his grasp. Once he’s collected himself, Eddie probes for more information while he gently lifts your pleated skirt to rest on your lower back.

“Touch you where?” he asks, before shoving a strained, white knuckle into his mouth, biting as hard as he can when he sees your pretty pink panties. And there, between your plush thighs, like a sneak peek of heaven, a delicious wet spot taunts him, perfectly accentuating your folds and calling his name. 

Torn from his reverie, Eddie doesn’t expect the haphazard motion you make to your breasts pressed against the wood. He really thought Jason ‘The Creep’ Carver would’ve done more than just grope you—like make you suck him off or at least finger bang you underneath the bleachers, as is custom amongst your kind. 

“Just there?” 

You nod, “Yeah, I didn’t really wanna go any further. He was upset at me for a week after that…” 

Your voice, soft and soaked in shame, makes Eddie grit his teeth. Par for the course with Carver, but what really makes his jaw clench with barely restrained need is the idea that you didn’t let your boyfriend of two years go any further than second base. And yet….here you are, about to let the town freak blow through all the bases and fuck your ass. This is, without a doubt, the best day of his whole fucking life. 

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be very happy with you when you bring ‘im his fix. You ready, sweetheart?” His fingers wrap around the elastic waistband of your panties, slowly pulling the flimsy material down. As your soaked folds desperately cling to the fabric, he struggles to remain quiet, to fight back the groan crawling up his throat. 

You nod, wiggling a bit to readjust on your knees; Eddie bites his lip at the sight, it’s like you’re taunting him.

Entranced, he can’t help but wish he could pull your panties all the way off, not just haphazardly shove them down your thighs. But maybe it’s better this way. After all, he’s not sure how stealthily he could pocket the pair, and he’s not looking to push his luck with you. Not yet at least.

Though, even if he couldn’t swipe your panties for his own personal collection, with you facing away, it would allow him the perfect opportunity to bring the thin material to his nose and take a deep whiff. He’s pretty sure your scent would fix him…or make him worse—he honestly doesn’t care which. 

But for now, with you already in position, he’ll just have to settle for being inside you. Pity.

The only sounds in the forest are the crunch of rustling leaves, the clinking of his belt as he undoes his pants, your bated breaths, and the distant chatter of teens meandering to their cars and buses, carried on the wind from the school. If any one of them tries to take a shortcut through the woods on their walk home, they’ll find Jason Carver’s girlfriend with her ass open for Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson—that thought has his stomach jerking with need.

Huffing out a breath, Eddie places both of his ringed hands onto your smooth skin, spreading your cheeks to get a good look at what he’s sure will become his favorite place on earth. “Angel?”

You hum in response, ignoring the pitter-patter your heart makes at the nickname—Jason doesn’t really have any endearments for you, so you’re not used to such easy affection. 

“I wanna make sure you feel okay, right?” You nod, urging him to continue. “Well, I need a little…lubricant…and I don’t think my spit is gonna cut it.” He could certainly make it work, but he’s playing the long game here. 

Eager to help, you softly suggest, “You can use my spit.” 

Sighing, he realizes he should’ve known you’d offer that. Right. Changing strategy. “Um, that’s very sweet o’you, honey. But…I think I’m gonna need a little more.”

Confused at what else there could be, you try to brainstorm. “Um…I don’t know…”

Eddie glances down at your soaked cunt, frail, thin strands of arousal connecting your flowering folds, hanging on for dear life. He shudders at the way your core glistens in the late afternoon sun, smeared wetness practically winking at him.

At this point, he’s almost vibrating with need—he’s so damn close to a place no man has ever explored before and Jesus H. Christ, does he want to be the first. 

Trying to restrain himself from shouting the answer or just taking what he needs, he sucks in a calming breath. “What if, um, we use some of the…” he has no clue how to go about this without sounding like this was his plan all along, “wetness, uh, between your…” 

Peeking over your shoulder, you let out a noise of surprise. “Oh, uh…if that’s what would work. Um, I t–think that’d be fine. You won’t…go in, will you?” 

At your hesitant words, he gives his cock a teasing squeeze, letting out a strained, “No, no, baby. Of course not. I’d never…Only if you wanted me to.” He adds on the last bit knowing it’s a shot in the dark.

“Eddie, you know I can’t. I’m with Jason,” you chide, looking back down to the weathered wood, restless fingers playing with a divot on the surface beneath you. 

Worth a shot.

He shakes his head in disbelief, biting his lip; the cognitive dissonance you’re displaying at present is making his cock leak. He knew as soon as he first saw you—you’d be the perfect girl to play with. 

“Right! I know, I know,” he hurries, conceding to your virtue. “So silly of me…”

He practically blows his load all over your ass when you quietly mutter your next words. 

“Maybe if I saw you first…” 

Fuck.

God, if you saw him first…

The shit he would’ve done to you by now, two years in…

It’d make a whore blush.

Though, he doesn’t feel like he missed out on much. You’re currently in a relationship with Jason, but you’re still bent over a table, your tight ass hole on display for him. 

Maybe in every timeline you become his. Maybe not fully, but maybe where it counts.

Refocusing on the task at hand, he cautions you, “Now, I won’t go inside, but I’m gonna need to go around. S’that okay?”

With another nod, you let out the sweetest string of words he’s ever heard. “I trust you, Eddie.”

Oh, you really shouldn’t, he thinks.

“Perfect, it’ll be just a second,” he mumbles, gripping his stiff cock and guiding it to your slit. He’s not strong enough to stop the beginning of a groan as he feels your wet arousal coat him in warmth. Luckily, he bites back the rest of the noise, not wanting to scare you off. 

He’s thankful you can’t see his length because he’s certain that would really scare you off. He can tell how tight your cunt is just by the look of it—you’ve truly never had anything in there before. The fact that you’re letting him rub his bare, leaking cock on your pussy tells him you don’t know a thing about sex, either. All of his precum is mixing with your slick to make a glorious milky substance and you’re going to go back to your boyfriend pretending to be untouched. 

You’re already so wet and getting wetter by the second as he continues to drag his thick length through your fluttering folds. A high-pitched moan escapes your throat when the ridge of his head catches on your clit just right. A pearly-white rope nearly shoots out of his pulsing slit when you quietly apologize for your noise—god, you’re so fucking sweet. 

It’s probably overkill at this point—he’s certainly wet enough to fuck your ass, but he’s never been this close to a virgin’s pussy before. If he could just…

Eddie pushes his luck as he glances down, gripping his cock, and guiding the fat head to notch into your hole. 

He almost cums inside of you when your entrance squeezes around his tip, trying to suck him in further. Despite your shallow opening pulsing and luring him in, your voice snaps him out of it. 

“Eddie!” 

Your worried, shrill tone makes his hips buck unconsciously, sinking another centimeter into you, eliciting a guttural moan from deep within your chest. It takes everything in him to pull away, especially with the pretty sound you just made.

Before he does, though, he wraps his index finger and thumb just below the ridge of his cockhead, giving himself a firm squeeze, hoping to leave your sweet cunt with a few drops of his seed.

“Sorry, sorry–it got caught,” he lies, “My bad.” His chest is heaving with red-hot desire—he’s 100% going to think about this moment while he fucks his fist later.

“S’okay,” you mutter breathily, trying not to give in to the tingling goosebumps his touch leaves behind.

“Gonna do it, now, okay?” His words are almost clinical because he doesn’t have to put on an air of romance for you—you’ve got a boyfriend to do all the fluffing for him. 

With your quiet ‘mhm’, he starts to breach the tight ring of your ass. The second his soft tip presses into you, you’re moaning brokenly. You’re so tight, Eddie feels like his cock is being choked.

“Oh, god!” Your strained mewl echoes around the empty air, bouncing from tree-to-tree until it comes right back to Eddie’s ears—like pretty music he could listen to forever. 

His tongue falls out of his mouth in focus as he spreads your cheeks wider, trying to help you take him. “Shh, shh, sweetheart. Don’t wan’ anybody finding out, do we,” he grits, forcing himself to give it to you slow. 

You whine, shaking your head at his words, dropping it against the wooden table as you struggle to breathe through the pain. His tip is so big, you’re wincing as he mutters praises. 

“There you go, angel. Takin’ me so well, I know it’s hard. S’gonna be a tight fit.” Punctuating his sentence with a groan, he throws his head back as you yelp, feeling the exact moment his fat cockhead pops into your virgin hole. 

“Eddie, Eddie,” you draw out his name in a whine, eliciting a small thrust from his brazen hips. 

When he’s met with even more resistance than his initial breach, he tries to calm you down. “Angel, you’re doin’ so well for me, but you gotta relax, baby, you gotta relax.”

“I c–can’t, Eddie, s’too much!” The burn and stretch of his thick cock inside you is making your brain go fuzzy, eyes fluttering as you heave out a dry sob into the splintering grains. 

“We can stop whenever you want–” 

“No! I wan–I need to have the–the weed, he told me to get it, I need it!” 

Spitting onto his length, he rubs the bubbly liquid in before pushing an inch deeper, swooning at the strangled moan you let out, your panting lips brushing against the old wood. “Okay, okay. We’ll keep going, but only if you want to…”

His cock—less than half-way inside—flexes as you nod messily, forehead scraping against the rough surface of the table. But that pain is the least of your concerns, what with the searing burn of your ass hole. You make the mistake of adjusting yourself on the table, accidentally sending your hips back onto him, taking another inch of his cock. 

A pained mewl leaves your lips, “Eddie, it–it hurts!” 

In his own little world—relishing his throbbing cock snug in your tight ass—he jerks his hips forward, forcing you to take the rest of him in one go, using the ‘rip the bandaid off’ approach. The broken half-scream that peels from your scratchy throat startles a few birds from the treetops, sending them fluttering away in fright.

“Yeah, baby. It’s supposed to, you’re not used to it yet–fuck–but you will be,” he promises, pulling back half-way and sinking in again. 

Soon your pained moans turn into pleasured mewls as your body adjusts to his girth, stretching your unused hole to its limit. “Shit, angel, you feel s’fuckin’ good.” 

Eddie’s groans of appreciation make you whine, unconsciously grinding your ass back against his pistoning hips. “Ed–Eddie, oh, god!” 

His eyes roll in ecstasy, just picturing the way your dripping hole is clenching around nothing right now, needing to be stuffed. Maintaining a bruising grip on the junction of your hips, he fucks into you, hard.

The strong force shoves you up the wooden table in time with his thrusts—your face dragging against the rough surface. He doesn’t let you go far, though, repeatedly yanking your ass back to meet his upper thighs causing a lewd slapping sound that surely gives you away—that, and your barely restrained moans. 

“Fuck, you gotta be quiet. Gotta be quiet, baby, somebody’ll hear,” he grunts, as if he truly gives a shit whether he’s found out. He’d fuck you in front of the whole school if you’d let him. 

Another mewling whine from you has his hips faltering in their rhythm. A few particularly hard thrusts cause you to stutter over your strained pleas, the words clawing their way out of your mouth in tune with the barreling of his cock. “B-But it feels, unh, s–s–s–so g–good.” 

Your pitiful admission makes Eddie’s balls pull taut to his body, a sure sign that he’s not going to last another second. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, baby! Fuck, I’m cumming, oh, god–m’cumming!”

Relishing the flex of his cock as it twitches inside you, you whimper at his words—you’ve never heard a boy sound so anguished. For some reason, the sound makes your pussy ache, you wish you could clench your thighs. 

Once Eddie finds his breath, he starts pulling out of you, eliciting a pathetic sounding whine from your panting lips. Before he fully leaves your sweet little hole, he makes sure to give himself another firm squeeze and a small tug—just to leave you with every last drop of his cum.

He watches his milky seed ooze from your gaping ass, heaving out a content sigh before shoving himself back into his jeans. “Oh, fuck, angel.…You really earned that weed for your boy, honey.”

The praise makes you keen, letting out the cutest whimper Eddie’s ever heard. He starts shimmying your panties up your thighs, hesitating, he takes a mental picture of the way your hole pushes out some of his spend as you clear your throat. Securing the thin material over your modesty, he slides a ringed hand between your cheeks, pressing the fabric into his cum, wedging it up your ass. 

You jolt at his touch, taking the unsanctioned touch as a simple tease from your new friend. “Eddie,” you giggle, straightening up, and messily climbing off the table. 

Your knees are still sore, despite his earnest attempt to bring you comfort by laying his jacket out for you. Once you stand up straight, skirt falling back down, you also realize how stiff your legs are—but another sensation takes precedence. 

Shock takes over your face as you fling your hands behind you, pressing them both into your ass, a useless attempt to stop his cum from pouring out of you. “Oh my god!” 

A grin stretches across Eddie’s features, his eyes alight as he takes in your little dance—you’re squirming, trying to squeeze your thighs together in an effort to mitigate the mess. “Yeah, sorry about that, sweetheart. Shoulda warned you. Your ass isn’t as…malleable as your pussy,” his grin broadens as your eyes widen at his salacious lesson.

“S’gonna take a second to…shrink, for lack of a better word. Until then, you might feel a little…leaky,” he chuckles, reveling in the way your virgin ass hole took his massive cock—now you have to suffer the…gaping consequences.

Simply nodding your head, you continue to press both your panties and skirt into your ass, hoping they’ll soak up some of the wetness. Unsure why you want to know, you ask Eddie your burning question. “Did…w–was I good?” 

His mouth parts in surprise at your question, but then a wave of giddy heat thrums through his whole body, relaxing his features into a pleased smile. Closing the short distance between you, he rubs his fingers across your cheeks, working his way up to the small scrape on your forehead. His eyes are full of awe, and you're going to have to come up with an excuse to your boyfriend about the random scrape on your otherwise unblemished skin—the thought causes his soft cock to twitch. 

“You were so good, angel. I hate to say it, but Carver’s a lucky guy. He’s got such a devoted, loyal girlfriend.” 

Too busy swooning at his soft touch and compliments, you completely miss the wicked glint in his eyes. The moment your body begins to sway, leaning into the heat of his chest with bated breath and heavy lids over wanting, wandering eyes, he pulls away—shattering the trance he had you under, leaving you nearly stumbling after him.

The clinking of metal draws your attention to a black lunchbox sitting on the wooden bench. From inside it, Eddie pulls a small baggie of a dry, dusty green looking pile of…herbs? You’re pretty sure it’s the weed, but Jason never lets you partake, so you’re not 100% sure what the substance looks like. 

“Here you are, sweetheart. And go ahead and tell your little boyfriend he can send you back anytime he wants,” he shoots you a flirtatious grin.

Taking the baggie from him, you try to fight the smile off your face, feeling bashful at his unending flirtation, despite your numerous warnings.

“Eddie,” you chide, only half-serious, now catching onto how playful your new friend tends to be.

Throwing his hands up in surrender, he tips his chin to catch your shy gaze, “I know, I know. I just happen to think you’re a much prettier face to strike a deal with.” He pushes his luck once more—he just can’t help himself. “How ‘bout this, I’ll cut the price in half if he sends you next time.” 

Smiling, you shake your head at his audacity. “We’ll see. Thanks for…” 

Fucking you? 

Cumming in your ass?

Making your virgin hole his?

Letting you pay with your body?

“...Everything,” you finish, leaning up onto your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. It’s too bad you rubbed all your lipgloss onto the picnic table when you couldn’t stop panting and moaning into the old wood. But your soft lips still smell of cherries, so he’ll take it. 

Pulling back, you meet his wide eyes. He's thankful his big brown irises generally give off a sad, puppy-dog look; otherwise, you'd probably catch onto the felonious hunger in his gaze.

“For being sweet,” you add on. The way your blackened lashes flutter at him—if he didn’t know how truly innocent you are, he’d think you’re giving him ‘fuck me again’ eyes. The sight has his cock stirring, already half-hard from just your chaste kiss. 

“‘Course, angel.”

You seem to have an almost physical reaction when he uses the endearment on you outside of being in your ass. Your smile widens, body bristling with restlessness as he catches a glimpse of your thighs squeezing. It’s not lost on him that you didn’t get to cum. You’re probably so needy, you’re barely containing it in front of him. He knows how wet you are, he saw the aftermath. 

Leaving you so worked up, on the edge of completion as your orgasm recedes like waves before a tsunami—he’s certain this won’t be his last time with you. He’s pretty sure you’re not about to go fuck your boyfriend, so maybe you’ll remember how welcoming and kind Eddie was and turn to him in your time of desperation. 

You’ll be back. He’s almost certain of it.

A/N: That'll make your puthy throb. Reblog, like, and comment to support me and lmk your thoughts!!!!!!!!!!

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Divider by @saradika-graphics

[elegantpaperoperatormaker]

i am begging for an actual crumb of more of the ex!husband baby!daddy eddie who always crashes ex wife!baby mama! readers dates… i’ll take anything 😔

Well, lucky for you, I love when people beg😈🫦so you asked for a crumb…I grant you a loaf (1.3k words). Prequel to Prescribed Burn, but could be read as a stand alone.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral (fem rec), brief fingering, panty ripping, titty sucking & slapping, nipple stim, yearning, jealousy, R has breasts that got a little motion to ‘em

Your back hits the wall and he comes barreling after, his body enveloping you in a rush of heat. He presses close, the rug bowing upwards beneath his sliding shoes. 

Every bare inch of skin is claimed by his lips before he yanks your top off, searching for new terrain to conquer.

You take the momentary respite to speak your mind, and, hopefully, take a chunk out of him. 

“You’re just jealous,” you breathe, head jerking back from the kiss he lands on your parted lips like a kill shot. But you refuse to succumb, to keel over—not without a fight. 

It always plays out this way—every single time. He’s scrappy, but so are you. His teeth bite and pull, but so do yours. 

It’s just unfortunate that he somehow always wins.

“Yeah?” he mutters against your mouth, forcing a towering level of nonchalance you want to tear down like Godzilla. “You think?”

His palms find your breasts, kneading them over the lacy lingerie meant for your date—the one Eddie successfully managed to scare off, yet again. 

“Oh, I know— Agh!” 

The smack lands with a sting to your sensitive skin, your chest taking the brunt as he bites his lip, hands dragging the cups of your bra down. Ducking low, his mouth closes around your pert nipple, fingers expertly tweaking the other. “Do tell,” he mumbles, the words muffled.

“You’re j-jealous because I’m moving on and you c-can’t—”

He chuckles lowly, the wet heat of his breath drawing a wave of goosebumps. His eyes find yours, heavy lidded, and you don’t remember feeling your fingers thread through his curls, but they’re thoroughly buried, now. 

“‘S that what you believe?” 

The moment stretches, a gracious gift from him. Like always, he gives you time to think before you respond—to find better words. And you never do—

“Mhm,” you hum, nearly whimpering as he switches to your other nipple. Your shoulders hunch and part from the wall as you curl into him, body chasing the pleasure he’s giving away so freely. “Know it’s ‘cause you can’t get any pussy.”

Suddenly, he’s on his knees, palm pressing between your breasts, shoving you back against the wall with a thud. His hands slide up your thighs, slipping beneath your skirt with practiced ease. The fabric bunches at your hips and he rips your black panties like scrap paper. 

“Hey!” you shout, skin prickling—not from the vulgarity of the act, but rather the audacity. That was your favorite pair. “You can’t just—”

The complaint dies halfway up your throat, slain by the lewd moan that tears free the second his thick finger sinks into you. The intrusion is quick and easy, and you pray he doesn’t use that fact as canon fodder—

“Because I love you so damn much,” he rumbles, peering up at you, “and only because of that…I’ll give you one of those.” His finger slips out, and you hope the disappointment doesn’t show on your face. 

“I am jealous,” he says, sucking the gleaming digit clean. 

Your breath catches, and you wait for the other shoe to drop. 

Attention unyielding, he nods as he lifts your thigh onto his broad shoulder. “I am…. Because you give your time to assholes who look like they can’t possibly handle you—”

That gets you. 

Your teeth grit, and you snap, “Oh, and you can?”

“Yes.” 

It’s simple, certain—like the answer was there even before the question was born. 

And something about that silences you—neutralizes any further argument. Vitriol squashed under the weight of a raw honesty that feels much too familiar to be safe. 

His large palm gropes the slope of your thigh, head turning as his lips brush against your skin with every word. “Think I’m the only one who can.”

You huff, shame creeping into the edges of your mind. Because he’s working you. And you’re letting him. Selfishly, you’re letting him spew this shit just to feel that fire licking up your limbs, the quiver of your walls as you clench around nothing, aching for something.

Your body betrays you, every time. Always with him.

“Whatever—”

It’s petulant and weak as far as comebacks go, but you can’t be bothered to try anymore. Not when he’s moving to where you need him most.

“Yeah…whatever,” he parrots, gently nosing your mound. Your hips buck instinctively, and his hand presses just beneath your navel, forcing you still.

He takes his time, head bobbing infinitesimally closer, like he’s teasing himself with your cunt. 

Then—

“I’m not a free man.”

It takes you a moment to register his words, the tension thick like smoke, robbing your brain of the oxygen it so desperately needs. But when you do—when the sentiment finally burrows into you, roots digging deep into scorched earth—your chin tips, though you don’t dare question him. 

Because of the what if.

Because his voice rumbles in that gravelly tone that only comes out when his thoughts get too loud. 

“‘M not free. Not while you still walk this earth,” he finishes softly, as if it’s a matter of fact.

Time feels sluggish as you hear the beat of your heart, skipping every third and ticking like the seconds on a bomb. He’d know something about that. He was the one who clipped the wrong wire all that time ago.

Without warning, his tongue drags along your slit, flat until you feel the tip flick your clit and you cry out, body jerking from the shock. 

He attacks your core the same way he attacks your mouth in every kiss—messy and wet and filled with a fiery greed that sears. Lewd slurps fill the air, tempered only by hoarse groans as his head moves with the effort of devotion.

“Fuck— Always taste so good, baby,” he slurs, his tongue plunging into you in pointed thrusts.

Moans tears from your throat, unbidden, and you allow him this. At least once more, you tell yourself. An excuse that should have worn out long ago, but you still believe it. Someday, you know you’ll stop. And you know he never started. But until then, you let him yank your hips closer, you let him pretend. Let him devour.

He growls, focused and poised as he picks you apart—piece-by-piece. “Said I can’t get pussy, but I got all the pussy I need right here, don’t I, sweetheart?” 

Something broken—weak—inside you responds. It’s traitorous in its integrity.

“Yeah, ‘s what I thought.” He grins wolfishly, sucking on your clit as his hand lands on yours, still in his hair. He squeezes, tightening your grip before going back to leaving half-moon marks in the soft skin of your thighs.

Your veins spark like live wires, nerves frying as you feel it coming—the snap. The fall. 

He’s running you right up to the edge, ready to send you plummeting any second now. 

His tongue alternates between deep thrusts and delicate flicks, and you don’t know which is worse—feeling him so certainly, or the brush that teases, that whispers confessions of almost and maybe into you.

Your hips roll mindlessly as you whine, nearly riding his face. With a grunt, he lands a sharp slap to your ass. “Mine.”

You go rigid, on the precipice of it all, gritting out a strained, 

“N-Nnn—”

“Hm? What’s that, sweets?” he mutters, lips dragging recklessly through your folds.

You suck in a breath that refuses to steady you. “N-Not yours— Agh! Fuck!”

The faraway sound of cries shatter in the air, and you realize it’s the shards of your control, detonated by his lips wrapped around your clit. He’s shoved you from the edge, and you’re freefalling into crashing waves, drowning in the pull of zealous pleasure. 

Your muscles spasm, moving on their own as you buck against him, chasing the friction as it slowly recedes. Trembling and breathless, you melt into something softer, more pliant.

And despite your eyes remaining shut, you can feel the heat of his stare. 

“Right,” he says, smugness threaded so intricately through the single word, it makes your head spin. “You’re not mine.”

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