lovemesomeeddiemunson

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

Rockstar Eddie having an emergency with one of his stunts for his show, and having to call emergency. Thank God it was just rehearsal, and not the actual performance.

He's even more grateful when Firefighter Steve comes up to get him down, carrying him bride style to safety. Eddie is not one to be in silence for too long, but the sheer beauty of the firefighter face and the smile he sends his way while telling him that his little brother and his friends are big fans make him lose all words.

He signs an autograph on muscle memory, eyes never leaving the swoopy hair and hazel eyes and pretty moles and shy smile. He doesn't even know the name of this demigod sent from Olympus until he has to leave.

"Hey, Steve, come on! We're leaving."

"Coming, Robs!" He smiles again before jogging back to the fire engine and getting a shit eating grin from the lady who called him back.

Eddie only wakes up from his haze when Chrissy shakes him and asks if he's okay.

"I think I've met the love of my life..."

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

Steve is telling Eddie about a boy that had approached him. About how he was flirting with him and Steve had to carefully, gently, tell him no while assuring him he is alright.

"God," Eddie says with a shake of his head. "You are so- I can't believe I ever thought you were-"

"Straight."

"An asshole," Eddie says at the same time. "Wait what. What do you mean straight."

"What do you mean what do I mean straight. I am telling you about a boy that flirted with me?"

"And you rejected?"

"Only because I've been trying to date you. Duh."

"WHAT"

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

Underrated steddie dynamic is Steve being his confident slutty flirty Casanova self rolling a nat 20 on charisma so to say and Eddie over in the corner, breathing heavily through his nose and staunchly reminding himself of His Principles…his Morals

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

by SpicySharks

So Eddie loved his job, loved his best friend and her cat that hung out in the café all day. Loved the life they were building in Chicago. But he might be coming close to ranking moments like this up there with all of that.

‘This’ being the beautiful moment of the front door opening, setting the little bells into a merry jingle, looking up like he always does around this time of day (just in case) and meeting the golden eyes of the unfairly gorgeous Steve Harrington.

Words: 3580, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham, Original Character

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Fluff, eddie makes bad choices, but we love him anyway, Jealousy

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

Older Eddie Munson…Reuploaded from my previous account…18plus!!!!

“Sugar, I have tattoos older than you. I’m an old man and you’d get bored of me.” Eddie groaned as you unbuckled his pants. His boxers tightened as you straddled him. Staying with your neighbor because your heat was off wasn’t planned.

But now you came into his bedroom, asking if you could stay warm. Eddie said yes, his toned shirtless body exposed underneath the moonlight. You wore an oversized Iron Maiden shirt with lace underwear.

You pulled out his dick, precum leaking and you let drool fall. You smeared the tip with your thumb as you gently rolled your hips. “Mmm, Eddie. I need it in my mouth. Need to suck it.”

His brown eyes darkened as you lowered yourself down, running your tongue along his cock and fondling his balls. His hand seized your hair.

“Fuck, baby doll. You needed a man’s dick didn’t you?” He breathed heavier as you took him down your throat, bobbing your head and pumping what you couldn’t fit. He saw you grind on the bed and he lightly tugged your hair.

“Ride my leg. Need to feel that wet pussy on my leg, Angel.” He helped you situate yourself on his thigh and you humped it. Eddie huffed as you gagged, pulling off to give his balls attention.

He started to throat fuck you, his eyes rolling back and he hadn’t cum from a blow job since he was in his late twenties. But Eddie needed to feel you so he pulled you off.

He flipped you on your back, admiring the way you bit your lip in anticipation. Eddie ran his large hands down your body, his rings cold against your bare skin as he toyed with the strings of your panties.

“Princess, I don’t just bust my load in a tight hole and called it a night. You think you can handle that?” He quirked a brow when you chuckled.

“I can handle anything, Eddie. Especially from an old dork.” Eddie smirked and tugged your panties off your legs. Tossing them off the bed.

“Awww, I love your confidence, sweet girl. But I’m looking forward to hearing how good you sound being fucked.” With that, he hauled your thighs apart and pressed himself against you. Slapping his cock against your clit a few times, Eddie enjoyed the moans you let out and he sank balls deep. Your soaked pussy taking him easily.

You gripped his long brown hair and wrapped your legs around him tightly. Eddie buried his face in your neck, leaving open mouth kisses on your warm skin. You felt a tongue ring as he fused his lips to yours.

The kiss was messy, passionate as he cupped your ass and moved your legs over his shoulders. You let your mouth part as Eddie thrusted harder, the bed creaking as he planted a hand firmly on the headboard.

“That’s my girl, fucked out like a slut already. Such a pretty little thing,” He praised and his dick throbbed inside you as you cried out louder.

The squeezing of your legs around him made Eddie nearly lose his mind as you tugged his hand near and sucked his fingers. He grunted and let an animalistic desperation take over him. Eddie turned you on your chest, pulling your ass up and smacked it hard.

He slammed back into you, skin slapping as you almost screamed in pleasure and squeezed the pillow. Eddie felt his release approaching sooner than expected, your pussy squeezing him tight and he pulled you up by your hair. Shoving his tongue in your mouth with a bruising kiss.

“Bounce on it like a good little slut, sweetheart. You want me to cum in you? You wanna feel it drip out of you?” He whispered against your neck and you nodded rapidly.

Your eyes falling on the poster walls and Eddie hammered his hips. Your cunt pulsed and you creamed on his dick. You saw stars as Eddie fucked you through it, his hands squeezing your tits.

“Sound so fuckin pretty when you cum. That’s it. I’m gonna fill you up nice and full,” He promised and you felt his rope of cum coat your insides. He gave your clit some attention, circling it and brought your two fingers up.

Eddie tasted it.

“You taste so good, Princess. But I need to have it from the source. You gonna let me eat that pretty little pussy?” He questioned and you moaned a yes.

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

heat

Werewolf!Eddie Munson x fem!Reader (NSFW) - Eddie’s POV

Synopsis: After recently getting changed into a werewolf, Eddie thought he was aware of all the side effects. Turns out, there’s another that comes at him like a fucking semi without brakes. And the driver? Well, fuck–that’s you. 

Warnings: nsfw content; Eddie’s POV & very Eddie focused, Eddie’s in heat, lust drunk, werewolf-in-heat stuff, breeding kink lite (he doesn’t fully realize that he’s in heat), eddie’s confused but trying his best, jealous!eddie, possessive!eddie (he repeatedly refers to the reader as his), marking, some biting, nipple stim, clit stim, fingering, rough & hard & animalistic sex, car/van sex, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, eddie cums (buckets) in the reader and cums multiple times, creampie, some overstimulation, soft!eddie peeks out here and there 

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: And what if we went with some werewolf!Eddie content on this here Valentine’s Day? Hope you like this nonsense piece :D Happy Valentine’s Day!! (Also Eddie drives a 1986 Chevrolet G20 in this fic.)

He tried. He tried so hard to keep himself together. He sat there in silence, leg bouncing beneath the table, eyes torn away from you every time he found them drawn right on back. He tried. He’d never experienced it before then. After the bite, yeah–okay, things had been exceptionally different. But this? Jesus Christ. He’d never experienced the clawing, painful draw before. It was like someone injected a liquid netting beneath his skin and braided it together with his literal being, and the second you rolled up to the restaurant, that netting was tightened. 

Then you had to go and take your coat off, and that damn dress you wore?

Eddie put his hand on his knee to get it to stop bouncing. It didn’t. He was on drink number three that wasn’t doing shit to help. He was stuck there seated across from you, smelling that perfume you wore just a spritz of, and every time the vent above you kicked in and brought more to him, he was a moment closer to losing his mind. Didn’t matter how many times he asked himself what the fuck is happening? It was happening. 

And he was rock hard in his pants from the second he saw you, and it was a worsening rush every time you even glanced at him. Subconsciously, consciously, with a smile, or just a blink. Dealing with the bite had been hell alone, but this? He was deep in the circles, and there was no reach to get out.

Flushed with heat, a light sheen of sweat making his clothes sticky, he lasted as long as he could. He tried. He really, really fucking tried. And you were there with a new friend who was obviously interested in you. And you looked so nice in your dress. So fucking nice. 

It was your lean over the table to snag one of his untouched fries with a playful smile. That did him in. His breathing was getting too quick and his cock was straining painfully in his jeans. Nope. Fuck it. He was out of the booth in the next second, grateful he took the outside spot, and then he was gone. Didn't matter if someone said his name. He dropped a twenty on the table and just booked it. 

He thought he was going to change at first. The rush of endorphins, the shaking, the incoherent thoughts he couldn't capture, the rise in body temperature. He dropped his forehead against the cold metal of his van, trembling uncontrollably, feeling a drop of sweat follow the curve of his spine. Damn it. He ripped his coat off and tossed it over the hood. His keys jingled as he fumbled with them, trying to get the side door open to at least get some of his valuables tucked away before the change. 

But it was like a threshold was reached. It was a pushed line that had him panting, aching, ready to scream and howl. But that agonizing, bone-splintering pain never came. The moon wasn’t full–that should’ve been his giveaway. But still, he scratched the paint getting the key in the lock, and he damn near broke it in half trying to get it out. The growls, the rush of strength he couldn’t fight, he sincerely thought he was about to be in a whole different agony. 

He threw his jacket into the back. Then pulled at his shirt. The white shirt wasn't coming off fast enough. He was ready to rip through the sweaty cotton as he burned. It was like that netting had risen in temperature, rushing through him with a voltage striking and hot. Molten, piercing through his nerves and making the blood rush south. It was soothing when he took deeper breaths. 

Wait.

He dropped the stretch material, his bangs sticking to his forehead, and leaned against the side of his van. The passenger door was cool through the shirt. Cool and nice and deeper breaths brought more relief. Not full, but more. Filling his lungs, his fists began to relax. His shoulders fell. And he blinked heavy blinks down past his belt.

He was still hard. Painfully. The throbbing really kicked in as he looked at the bulge in his jeans. It didn’t make any sense. Yeah, alright, after the change, he had better senses, and his body underwent some weird changes. After he jerked off the first time, it was like he tasted heaven. But the lead-up to it hadn’t been…this. He hadn’t been pushing against his belt and boxers like he’d been injected with something. And he damn well hadn’t taken anything or had anything slipped into his drink or food. No fucking way.

One of the perks. He might’ve been a shithead, but he would’ve noticed if anyone there had suddenly swapped personalities and tried to mess with him.

This wasn't that. Fuck no it wasn't. It was something else. The similar symptoms–yeah, he was certain it had to do with the bite scar on his shoulder. Everything always had to fucking do with that lately. And like when he changed, the deep breaths were helping, but beyond that, his head was starting to clear.

Alright. He took another deep breath. Okay. Fucking hell. Alright. Another deep breath. Then another. He fished a cigarette out of his front pocket and, with a slippery grasp, he lit it. Okay. He nodded to himself. Okay, fuck. Just…. 

Pull it together. He dropped his hand, blowing out the long exhale of smoke, and nodded to himself. His other hand went up and pushed his hair back, forehead slick with that sheen of sweat, and gross–he felt gross. Hot and gross and sticky and hot. So hot. Burning hot. 

He looked down at his lap again. His cock still straining. The rushing blood was making his head spin. For fuck’s sake. It wasn’t going down. It wasn’t stopping. It just kept throbbing. And aching. And…and….

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.

It was like someone tased him. The fucking jolt to his senses was painful when he smelt your perfume. Couldn’t see you. Couldn’t hear the clacking of your heels yet. But he could smell you, and he put the cigarette out in the center of his palm on accident as his fist formed tight and unforgivingly. He didn’t even feel the pain. The cigarette crumpled to the ground as he shuddered, growling into the night air, and both hands went back to steady him. One on the car just inside on his left and the other on the side of the opened door. 

Fuck. Holy fuck. 

His head fell forward and then back. That tasering sensation came through again and it was accentuated by the sound of your heels on the parking lot. Every quick step, and he…fucking hell. His pulse raced as he could fucking picture your mouth parting to shout his name. You didn’t have to–he was damn certain he’d hear you whisper it from across the lot. He sure as hell felt it like a molten touch on his stomach. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He started to bend the damn inner material of the car. He couldn’t do it. Holy hell. No, he couldn’t. He tried to climb in so he could at least hide from you, but he couldn’t move. His cock throbbed and his head spun. The air was a humid heat around him, and the sweat was back. Thick and coating him in a way that felt like it was beneath his skin.

He heaved a deep, desperate breath, and that only brought more of you. 

So much of you.

Christ. He’d never…. You were you. 

And you were there, running up to the side of his car, breathing quickly and sputtering out his name in desperate concern. Fuck. He couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t look at you. He even tried to push himself away again as your feet brought you right up to him, and your hands were a wonderful, searing cold on his chest and his arm. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? Do you need to go to the hospital?” you asked, the worry in your voice like a drug. Why the hell were you so worried about him? He took another deep breath, and right there, with you right fucking there…. He leaned in and dropped his arms as you pressed yourself against his side. You held him upright, plastering yourself to him in that skin-tight dress. The perfect red. The perfect cut. A little pearl necklace hung down and had given your friend how many excuses to look at your chest? “Eddie, shit. You’re burning up. Um. Crap. Crap. Get in, okay? We have to get you to the emergency room like now.”

He could feel your heartbeat in his own. Every hard thump making his head spin faster and faster. He felt every breath you took against him, your chest pressing harder and harder as you wrangled him into the back seat. Chest to chest, something gave in, and he fell. Slumping like a hypnotized man with his eyes fluttering open to look at you. Over him. Leaning into the car with both hands on his knees, chest still heaving.

He couldn’t speak.

You said his name again, a heat in you he could sense deep in your chest even as you reached up. Even as you used such a gentle touch to cup his cheek. That worry in your eyes was intoxicating. He tore at the side of the seat as you blinked, waiting desperately for a response. Something that said he wasn’t fucking lost somewhere else.

But he was.

He was trying really, really fucking hard not to lose himself to that last animalistic instinct. 

"Okay," you nodded nervously. You buckled him in, and the press of the seatbelt was agony. He damn near ripped it off, but you were still there. You were taking his keys from their chain. Your eyes snagged on his lap, and there was no pretending you hadn't seen anything. Your breath hitched in the slightest lingering, and Eddie…. Hell. 

He tensed every muscle in himself just to be able to fucking grunt out a few words.

“I’m fine,” he said, bringing a hand to yours to try and take his keys. His eyes clamped shut as he shook his head. “I just…it’s nothing. ‘Kay?”

He didn’t believe himself. Hard to when his hand wrapped around yours, and it felt like home. He couldn’t even bring himself to snatch the keys away. Try. He sat forward, stopped by the seatbelt, and cursed with a growl. 

He could sense every hair on you standing on edge.

“You don’t look fine, Eds,” you whispered. 

Fuck no. Not once. Not fucking once. No. Not one fucking time had he ever heard you shorten his name, and his body felt like it'd been struck by lightning. Did he fucking enjoy the little connection that always flashed in your eyes every time you called him that? Yeah. But this was really, really fucking different. Jesus Christ. His shoulders slumped as he found your eyes. Your pretty, worried eyes. 

Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. 

He had the sense to keep screaming that at himself. 

"Your boyfriend's back there waiting on you,” he breathed. Seethed, really. His new impatience and adrenaline were mixing with something else he really wasn’t interested in tapping into. “Shouldn’t fucking keep him.”

Your frown was something special. Seeing your mouth form it was torment. His hands twitched to move up closer to it, but he kept them where they were. Including still on your hand. Though, the second those words left him, your hand fell. You’d won, too. His keys were in your hand.

“He’s not….” You shoved his shoulder. Tried to shove him. But he didn’t budge. You went still, breath hitching, eyeing him as he sat there, eyes glued to you in a fierce heat, checking over him again. “What the fuck did you take, Eddie?”

He cracked a smile. Don’t. “Nothing,” he answered. 

Don’t. The slight tension in your upper body brought his eyes over your throat and your shoulders, bare beneath that jacket cause of the damn tiny straps on the dress. His cock ached and pressed painfully against his zipper.

“Bullshit,” you stepped back and flicked your eyes over him. “I’m taking you to the hospital, and when you’re sober, you can stop being an ass.”

Fuck, no. No.

He started to reach to stop you, but he was slowed in his current state. You got the door shut before he could stop you. And he could’ve opened it. He could’ve gotten out and left. But you would’ve chased him down, and that would’ve required more physical contact. He couldn’t survive that. He knew damn well another touch from you would somehow make him explode.

But he hadn’t thought too far ahead.

It hit him as you backed out of the spot and pulled onto the main road.

Overwhelmed being trapped in an enclosed space with you was one thing. There wasn’t a breath he could take without you being on it. But you were trying to take him to the hospital. No. Fuck. Fuck.

“No hospital,” he barked, leaning back in the seat and pressing his head back.

“Are you kidding me? Ed–”

“No, I need you to fucking listen to me.” He clamped his eyes shut. He was wheezing a little. The line was being pushed. It wasn’t holding. Every breath, every look at you–every look was at you. He couldn’t look elsewhere. Everything was just you, and he was going mad. "You can't take me to a hospital. Just…pull over."

You laughed, and were it not so taken aback sounding, he might've lost himself in it gracefully. But it was grating. He wanted to pull his shirt off with how it rubbed against him wrong.

“I’m not pulling over. Are you kidding me? You’re clearly on something, and you’re burning up. I’m taking you to the doctor. Sorry that I don’t want you to fucking die.”

The car rolled to a stop at a stop sign. The road was empty. 

The line was pushed. The line was snapped. He didn’t bother unbuckling the seatbelt. It tore clean through the yank he gave it, and you yelped even before he came up behind you. You…. There. You were there. Right there. In a blink, your cheek was against his. Warm and soft and intoxicating. He stalled, his hand reaching forward and pressing against yours. 

Jesus….

The line….

He never knew hunger like he did right then. And he didn’t even think he had it in him as he shoved the car into park and jerked the keys out of the ignition. You were still beside him for that moment. And when the car cut off, when he started to lean back and throw his door open, you were back to your reality. 

Fresh air hit him for only a second. It was a blissful second before you were in front of him, hands on his shoulders as his feet hit the ground, and it was a standoff. A dangerous standoff that brought you face to face, and Eddie…. Don’t. He tried. He really, really, really fucking tried. He thrashed about inside just before that last semblance of coherence faded into the obscurity of the hunger pummeling through him.

Every attempt to push him back into the van just made it worse. Every breath you pushed out with every shove. The soft grunts you made as you tried and tried and tried. The quiet whine that joined your fingers trying to claw the keys out of his hand. He hit the wall, and his control was a piece of chalk in his hand.

Your heels slipped on the rocky edge of the road, and you fell against him, both hands on his chest. Could you feel his heart? He could feel yours. And it was racing rapidly as you stood against him, chest to chest, breathing him in as he breathed in you.

“Go back to the fucking restaurant,” he breathed. The position…. Christ. It brought your cheek just in front of his mouth. He was agonizingly aware that you hadn’t stepped away from him yet. “Please. I didn’t take anything. I’ll be fine, but only if you just go the fuck away.”

The soft slumping was torture. His cruelty wasn’t intentional, but his desperation was driving him. You had both hands on his chest then, the touch softening in the worst way. And your breathing…shifted. Lost its rhythm. Wrong. It was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. And you nodded once. Defeated. So damned defeated.

“Fine,” you muttered. “Fine.”

No. He couldn’t. The hurt in your voice. The pain. You didn’t even get to start your step back before his arm was around your waist. He wasn’t going to let go. He knew it the fucking second he pulled you flat against him. It was right. It was stroking that hunger to a degree that was blinding. And he damn well actually considered thanking some godly being when he felt the immediate shift. Not anger. Not betrayal. Not disgust. Not fear. Any of those, and he would’ve torn his own arm off if he had to. But no. No, no. As he fell head first into that deplorable hunger, there was the quickening of your heartbeat, the rising heat that made your breathing increase with a steady, shuddering rhythm. The drop of your eyes to his mouth as his opened to find yours. And your fingers wrinkled his shirt as you planted them on his chest. 

“Eds?” you whispered.

He tried. He really, really tried.

But his keys were a loud thud on the car floor. 

He cupped the back of your head and brought his mouth to yours. 

He really tried.

You met him. As little time as you had to react, you leaned in as much as you could. The world was gone. The taste of you, the plush feel of your lips, that soft, wanting sound that fell from you that made no fucking sense–there was just animal instinct left. The night became alight and full shadows all at once. Nothing, nothing, nothing could’ve pulled him back from you except for you.

Melding against you, the kiss never having a moment to even be anything chaste, he burned. A lit fuse tearing through him, even he couldn’t keep up. He couldn’t get enough. He couldn’t satiate anything when it just kept growing.

The press of your body to his, the feel of your waist in his hands, the soft sighs from your lips, the taste of you on his tongue, your ass in his hands as he squeezed– He growled against your mouth. Your dress rode up as he kneaded your ass, wrinkling the material he knew was way too fucking expensive. 

“Eds,” you whimpered. 

The sound…the sweet, breathy sound.

Something snapped.

Something deep, something beastly. He slammed both hands out, gripping his van, shuddering out his next breath. Face buried in the crook of your neck, he breathed. Deep, hungry breaths. He itched beneath his skin in a way that felt like it could never be satiated. 

“Get in,” he breathed, taking in the taste of you on his tongue, your skin soft and warm and you tasted so sweet. “Or go back.”

It was the only words he could choke out. They burned in the air at the edges like steel wool. Sparks erupted as your head fell back, your hands still on his shirt, pulling what was left in that elasticity. Your body curved to stay against his, but in your lean, he had to return to you. Had to hold you. Had to keep you upright as your knees buckled.

He couldn’t help himself. His teeth were a sharp draw over your throat. 

You shuddered in his arms.

“In,” you sputtered. “In, Eds.”

Like a collar had been removed, everything heightened. He pulled you in, eliciting a small yelp in the process, and slammed his door shut. In the shadows, everything became newly alight. 

His growl was low and filled the space predatorily. 

His restraint broke.

The sounds you made were heavenly. It was blinding need coursing through him. You–you were the centerpoint. The pinpoint. The light at the end of the tunnel and the very reason the tunnel was there in the first place. You, you, and so effortlessly and all-consumingly–you. 

He felt it, and he felt you. How the world became color again. There was no immediate relief, no. But the escalation, the bared skin, the whines and the whimpers and the sounds that fell from both of you…. His mind was blank in the expedited, intoxicating hunger. A puppet master and the puppet all in one. 

He fell.

His fingers splayed wet on the back of your neck. Twice. He recalled that briefly. He felt you cum twice around his fingers after you shoved your underwear aside for him. Kneeling against the thick seat, face against the headrest, fingers clawing at the sides, he felt how wet you were for him. Before he’d even touched you. Your underwear soaked–a want he hadn’t even realized he could fucking smell on you. And when it clicked, as he pressed two fingers into you and unzipped the back of your dress just enough to bare your chest, he was driven by you. Pumped his fingers rough and deep, finding that spot that had you near screaming, holding you by your shoulder as your whole body moved with him.

Twice. That’s all he could wait.

Then those wet fingers ran over your cunt as he unbuckled his belt. The relief, the immediate relief was wrong. He felt thick and huge, and the ache, the throbbing–it wasn't stopping. He needed to be inside of you. Needed to feel you. Needed to fill you. And his thoughts glazed over as you pushed your hips back, panting and whining as you brought yourself to his tip.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He pushed in. 

There was no other place he was supposed to be. There was no other feeling in the world as fucking insane as that. Euphoric–fucking maddeningly euphoric. He pushed in, feeling your cunt flutter as you took him. He was a lot–more than he should’ve been–but there was no stopping to make sense of what he couldn’t. You were gasping against the headrest, wrapping your arms around it in a needy embrace, whining his name like a fucking performance just for him.

And the next sound out of him was more beastly than when he turned on full moons.

Balls deep, feeling you shudder as something locked him in place, his moan was edged with a growl. Deep from his chest, it fell over the van, and you…he felt you clench. And you clenched hard.

Like two puzzle pieces clicked together–it made sense. His head fell back, and a new sensation tightened in his balls. Made sense. He tightened his grip on your neck exponentially. Yes. He burned. He fucking burned like kerosene. Burned in his bones, in his soul, in the mark on his shoulder searing the ugly fangs into him. His balls hurt and he grabbed you by your hip, the dress tearing under his tightening grasp and sharpening nails.

You.

He pulled back until just his tip stayed in.

You. You. You.

He rutted forward and the whole van moved. 

You. 

You moaned hard against the seat, his name a stutter as his hips reared back and he rutted forward again. Again. Again. Again. Gaining speed, gaining strength, gaining a rough edge that had you sobbing as you began to clench around him. You. 

You. You. You. 

Damn it–you.

The tunnel honed in harder on you. He could see you in the dark, even without the moonlight creeping in. How your back arched, how your dress tore beneath his hands and stretched from yours as you pulled it up more and more. How you managed to look back at him, tears in your eyes, teeth on your lip, thighs trembling as he fucked you harder, body jolting with every thrust as you began to shake. Your chest pressed against the seat, and he ached to feel them, to see them, to have them.

You. He had to have you. Had to. You were his.

Like that.

As he reached around and took you by the front of your throat, pulling you back until you were on your knees taking him, pressing your mouth to his jaw and sputtering his name…. His mouth watered as he looked down at you. The endless sounds you made, the bounce of your tits and your nipples in peaks…. He brought your mouth to his as he closed his hand tighter, and his other went lower.

His. His. He snarled into the kiss like the beast he was, and he brushed his fingers over your clit without reprieve. 

“More,” he breathed into the kiss. 

He knew you could cum again. Could feel it. Needed to feel it. 

Like he’d given you a fucking command, the second his fingers found a steady rhythm, you were falling apart on his cock. Drenching it as he rutted so deep, he was hitting places in you he damn well knew nobody else ever had. The fucking guy you’d brought with you never would. No. A searing rage flickered in a glimpse. You screamed his name as he kept his fingers on your clit, and your cunt stayed clenched. 

His. You were his. His. He nipped at your jaw. His. His. His. 

You were Eddie’s. Just Eddie’s. Just like that–you were his. 

His balls tightened. His cock twitched. You choked on a moan as you came again, writhing atop his cock as he gave you no reprieve from the last climax before that one. And the harsh fluttering, the sweet warmth of you, your scent, your taste, your everything. He pressed his hand against your lower belly where his cock was taking you as his, and he saw white. White-hot. Searing, unforgettable ecstasy–the netting inside of him released just a little, and his eyes clamped shut. 

You both fell forward as he came inside of you, not able to even attempt pulling out, and it…. It felt…. He kept his tight embrace, thrusting hard as you both grunted. It wasn’t ending. It came, it peaked, and he spilled deep inside of you, but he couldn’t stop. He kissed your shoulder as he scrambled, the clinking of his belt echoing in the van, and he kept going. 

More.

Your whines grew. You clenched around him again.

“More, fuck.” He held you close, thrusting just as hard as before. Continuing. Continuing. Continuing. The loud squelching of every thrust joined the symphony of your sounds. “Fuck, you feel fucking perfect.”

Harder. Deeper. He couldn’t leave you. He couldn’t stop. Mind drowning as his body was dragged under. Your body moved with his, and he brought a hand to your chest. Rolling your nipple between his fingers, tweaking, tugging, feeling your dress stick to you as your bodies stayed together….

He couldn’t think. Just felt. Just felt. Just felt you. You, you, you. Just felt you. 

His–you were his.

His. Only his.

He brought his mouth to your neck and found a tender spot. The perfect tender spot. The tender spot that made you flutter around him and whine. His. He’d mark you. His. His. His. He kissed lower, dragging his teeth without breaking skin, then kissed the tender spot, drawing a hickey over it next. Then, on your shoulder. Then along it, toward the back. 

His. His. 

His balls tightened as you whined his name.

He dropped his hand and found your clit again. The white-hot feeling rushed him again. His. You. You were his. Only his. And his world erupted again. Again, he came. Hips pressed flat against your ass, he spilled inside of you, his entire body shaking, the sensation hot and euphoric. His eyes rolled back yet still. You both collapsed on the floor, Eddie barely catching the both of you, and he hugged you. Kept you embraced against him.

His balls still ached.

How? There was little coherence, but there was enough. He panted next to your ear as he hooked his arm under your leg, lifting it and locking it up. His body moved on desperation, on hunger. He couldn't pull out of you even if he'd tried. You. You. You full of him. He used his right arm as a pillow under your head and his left to keep your leg locked open. That hand found your clit, and all it took was his thrusts. He couldn’t stop. Your bodies jerked as he fucked you faster, the lingering sensation lingering. His balls throbbed and tightened–it wasn’t stopping. It wasn’t. He couldn’t stop.

He needed you. Needed to cum in you. Needed to cum in you until there was nothing left to give you. You. Just you. Only you. 

"Little more," he croaked out by your ear. "Please. Fuck. Just a little more. Fuck.”

He could feel his cheeks flushing. Sweat trickled down his temple. He rubbed your clit as you arched into him, nodding frantically. Like you felt it, too. Fuck. Could you? He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t do anything except look down at you like you were sculpted by the gods. Couldn’t do anything but thrust into you and feel you, want you, need you. A hunger growing as he watched you take it. Deep thrusts jerking the car. You. Your head back against him as you began to shake again. 

You took him so well. You came so hard. And you still wanted. His body cinched in ecstasy as he saw the mess between your thighs, at the waste–waste. His body jolted and he rutted deep and stayed deep, switching to frantic thrusts, rubbing your clit a little faster and feeling you shudder as you screamed for him.

He came again.

And then again.

And then one last time.

On the floor of his van, the two of you intertwined, his cum leaking out of you. Panting. You limp and shaking. Sweaty. He kissed your shoulder as the slightest bit of coherence came to. As he looked down at you in your ruined dress, resting softly, eyes cracking to look up at him sleepily yet softly. 

His.

He reached over you and cupped your jaw. Still inside of you, bodies sticky and sweaty, he brought your mouth to his. The kiss was slow and deep. He couldn’t even joke about the line crossed for he’d obliterated it. It was dust lost on the floor where your bodies came together. Cause there was no going back–no. Not even if you both could pretend this hadn’t happened. Fuck no. No. As you smiled into the kiss, as you murmured his name on that soft, strained, sweet voice of yours, you were his. Like someone had tattooed you in his damn self.

His.

He deepened the kiss, the taste of you so damn addicting. 

But you put a hand on his cheek and pushed him back just a little, and he reeled back the rest of the way. He waited, his heart lurching in sudden fear. Pain. Worry. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked abruptly, cutting you off before you even parted your pretty mouth to speak. His voice was rough and raw. Just as yours was, and you were the one who’d been screaming the entire time to the point where he had to cover your mouth. 

“No,” you said with a crooked smile. “I mean, I’m not going to be able to sit down for like a week, but, Eds….” You leaned back. His heart stilled. Your fingers ran over the edge of that damn scar, barely visible where his stretched shirt collar fell to the side. “I need you to tell me what’s going on with you. Cause this…? We just….”

He watched your throat bob. Your smile turned wry.

His. His body began to burn with that deep voltage again. That caged netting. His balls tightened and ached. Nothing was making sense, and you seemed to know that. But when he smelled you, when he felt you, when you just looked at him, he was driven mad.

“It’s a long fucking story,” he breathed.

And you nodded once.

“It’s a long drive back to my apartment.”

His.

His hands itched, and he just slowly nodded. Yeah. He felt you flutter around him as his hips moved on their own, thrusting gently and shallowly into you. Another mess made as your eyes fluttered shut, and he held you close, keeping with those shallow thrusts even if his body screamed to fuck you as hard as he had before.

His. 

He kissed your temple, shuddering as his climax rushed him quickly that time. 

It turned into a deep groan as he spilled inside of you. Again.

You were…his. 

He kissed your temple as his hips came to a standstill, and you sighed happily.

Guess…guess he had to tell you. 

“‘Kay but…” he murmured, flicking his tongue against the shell of your ear. 

You shuddered again and whined. He started to thrust into you again, just as slowly, just as gently. 

“I need to. One more time. Fucking…. Please.” He nuzzled the side of your head. “It’s killing me. Fuck. I don’t even know why, but you’re fucking maddening. I just…one more.”

You were already nodding. Jesus Christ. You were nodding gently and with a smile. 

His.

He hugged you close and didn’t let go.

Fucking hell. Whatever was happening to him made no sense, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't fight it. He tried so hard to keep the line from breaking, and now he was in balls deep. And you were fucking his. 

He just…had to find the right way to explain that to you.

He peered down and watched his cock rut into you. 

After.

He bit down on your shoulder as his body tensed and pleasure pummeled through his veins. 

You were his. 

He came again, cock deep and body finally relaxing.

Good.

All felt right. You felt right. All felt fucking perfect.

You stayed like that as the minutes ticked by. Together. Perfect. So fucking perfect. And he finally fucking knew relief. 

Now he just had to hope you understood the nonsense he was about to tell you and that the sensation never fucking came back. If it did, and he had to be around you again like nothing had happened….

Another layer of hell would be welcoming him in.

But it…it wasn’t going to happen again. Yeah. He was fine. It was a total fluke. 

He smiled as you both relaxed, breathing easily and just staying tangled together.

Yeah.

He basked in you as the ache began to fade into a soft, tingling warmth.

It was just a fluke.

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

It’s my year, Stevie <3

Yesterday's wind down sketch!

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

Eddie and his unintentional boners

Masterlist

I’m thinking about Eddie constantly getting a boner around you. Like he can’t control it obviously, but it’s to a point where it’s embarrassing and you’re like, “Again?! I literally didn’t do anything?!! What did I even just do??” Trying to retrace your movements to pinpoint what you even did to make him get hard.

One time you’re talking about Kiss and Gene Simmons’ crazy tongue. Not only is it long, but he can twist it super fluidly. You’re telling Eddie you think you figured out how to twist your tongue the same way- at least one direction, you haven’t figured out how to make it go the other way yet. A mental block you’ll be sure to work through while you’re bored at Family Video.

All you do is show him your discovery and he’s fully hard. Immediately. And he’s mortified. You were mid conversation as you showed him the trick, it was a split second display and you continued your thoughts about how people in grade school used to show off folding their tongues like little tacos. It was completely unimportant and just a thought you had that you felt the need to share, but then you noticed he was being weird. He was no longer as engaged in your words as he was and he wasn’t making eye contact any longer. Shifting in his seat, he looked like a guilty dog who got in the trash and is just waiting for you to see the mess he made. You stop what you’re saying to ask him what’s wrong, why is he so uncomfortable all of a sudden?

You and he were lounging at his trailer which called for sweatpants. So it became very apparent what the problem was when he didn’t answer your questions, but rather made a split second glance at his prominent erection, completely not meaning to draw your gaze there as well. And you weren’t doing anything! You’re immediately confused, honestly just wanting to understand how you made him hard so fast. You could sure use that information for future reference.

“What did I do? I didn’t even do anything?” You’re so confused the last statement comes off more as a question. All you were doing was talking about your neat new trick, sure you showed him it, but it was a split second and it’s literally just your tongue moving??

Well, that was enough for him. Honestly, you thought you licking ice cream all sexy-like or something would’ve gotten him like this, but apparently all you have to do is twist your tongue. You weren’t even trying to be sexy! You were just excited to show off your trick!!! And he got so hard, so fast.

He knows his sudden boner was uncalled for. He knows you weren’t trying to seduce him, but when his hot girlfriend twirls her tongue like that he can’t help his dirty thoughts. He was honestly a little frightened at how immediate it was, because truthfully it wasn’t his dirty thoughts that got him hard like that. It was quite literally just watching your tongue move like that and his body did the rest for him.

He’s got a problem, and it’s bad. All he has to do is see you and he’s hard. It’s not like you and him don’t get intimate! He satiated! Often! But his body is on fire when you’re around. He’s got the hormones of like 10,000 teenage boys combined. He’s 23 for crying out loud- at this point he thought the embarrassing drop-of-a-hat-boners from when he was 16 would be something of the past. But alas, the wind could blow your perfume his way and he’s hard. He’s seriously considering seeing a doctor about it at this point.

You, on the other hand, think it’s adorable. He hates that. You get real sweet and condescending at the same time when he gets unintentionally hard for no reason around you.

“Baaabbbyyy!” You laugh out the endearment, a smile on your beautiful face and your eyebrows drawn in sympathy. As if. He knows you love it. You couldn’t be earnestly sympathetic to his issue if you had a gun to your head. You think it’s adorable and hilarious. He suffers, and you think it’s funny. It leads to many a disagreement- well, not a disagreement per se- more of Eddie pouting with his arms crossed, body facing away from you in protest, dick standing straight up in his old basketball shorts.

You’re too busy laughing and cooing out aw’s and babyyy’s to give in to his pout. He’s insufferable, he wears that descriptor with pride. When you don’t give in to his pouting, dick still straight up- because who is he kidding…he gets even harder when you coo at him, the laughing doesn’t soften him either…- he’ll turn back to you with his best pitiful look. He knows what he’s doing, this is where the ‘insufferable’ comes in. It’s those big wet baby cow eyes of his, he wields them like weapons. You’re a victim to his ways, he knows this for a fact. It’s exactly why, when he doesn’t get his way, he’s whipping those suckers out. Your laughing subsides when you get a look at the most pitiful boy you’ve ever seen. You scoff as if you have a chance at being unaffected, but you’re taking off your top, regardless. He smiles smugly knowing he got you.

You never get to laugh at him for long when he’s hard like that, he gets his way every time. You’re a weak, weak woman. It’s his favorite quality about you.

A/N: this was based on a real event with my ex, I showed him how I can twirl my tongue super offhandedly and he was immediately hard, it was amazing. Huge ego boost because I was genuinely confounded at how that one little thing affected him that much. And I mean fully hard. Which is what confused me like we were just talking about being able to move our tongues weirdly and I showed what I could do and boom- hard dick. I like to remember that moment when I have low self esteem because I literally did nothing to deserve that hard on, so I must just be hot as fuck or something lmfao.

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

Steve soon realizes something: Eddie eats a lot of candy.

So whenever they meet to hang out, he makes sure to bring Eddie candy, at least a little chocolate. Steve soon becomes a big fan of how Eddie's eyes light up when he offers him candy.

It also works to keep Eddie calm even for a moment, so he always carries it with him as a backup for emergencies. Eddie often gets anxious out of nowhere, which is normal for everything he's been through, and today is one of those days.

The older teens decided to spend time together, and although Eddie was very enthusiastic, he suddenly started to get very anxious. Maybe the others didn't notice, but Steve did.

"Eddie, will you help bring more beers?" Steve whispers. Eddie startles but nods.

When they are in the kitchen, Steve hands him a bag of gummies without saying anything as he pulls out more beers. Eddie quickly sits down happily on the kitchen counter and Steve decides to do the same and steal some gummies from him.

"I used to love these when I was a kid." Steve says.

"I don't know how you don't eat candy, Stevie, I could die if I don't eat candy"

Steve smiles warmly because he has already noticed it, and he thinks it's so cute.

"When I was a kid, I ate a lot of candy, but then... I grew up."

"So what gives you this level of bliss, man?" Eddie asks with a mouth full of gummies.

Steve laughs softly.

"Sex."

Eddie stops dead and looks at Steve in surprise, but holding a laugh, Steve gives him his best innocent smile.

"Now I understand why I haven't stopped eating candy like I did when I was 8 years old," says Eddie, eating another gummy. "I haven't unlocked that level yet"

Steve takes another gummy and, after a few seconds, says...

"I can help with that."

And he did it.

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

Generationally rich-rich Steve, so rich that his money makes money, who loves spoiling his friends and lovers, trying to sugar-daddy the busker he accidentally spilled coffee on, who turned out to be really cute under his weird orange bucket hat (that he has his hair tucked up under for some reason?) and giant sunglasses that take up half his face.

It’s difficult because the guy fights him to pay for anything, and doesn’t really seem to covet much. All Steve knows is that he’s a musician working in an album, and after the second guitar the guy has joked about trying to “buy his affection” and Steve had rapidly backpedaled off of that avenue.

See, what Steve doesn’t know is that Eddie is the lead singer of Corroded Coffin, one of the hottest metal bands at the moment. They’re on a break after a huge tour, for some downtime and to write their new album.

He likes to just put on random disguises and play in the streets when he’s feeling stuck, which is how he met Steve, when Steve spilled coffee all over him.

Of course, Steve was wearing a random sweater and sweat pants. Eddie honestly thought he was a college student or something. The poor guy offered to buy him a whole new outfit in apology, and seemed more distressed every time Eddie assured him it was fine, so he eventually settled for Steve buying him a coffee.

Steve was really cute, so Eddie decided to take off his disguise and just get to know him with all cards on the table (Eddie is just so “metal is life” that it literally doesn’t occur to him that someone might not know who he is)

That start dating. Eddie is pretty used to guys wanting to date him for his fame and/or money, but this guy really doesn’t seem to want that. Not only is he more than happy to go on low-key dates, but he seems determined to prove he’s not after Eddie’s money by refusing expensive gifts and also just… buying things for Eddie instead? Eddie’s not used to it and it’s really flattering, but he’s getting a little worried because this guy is trying to spend a lot of money on him.

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

eddie who's never been in a relationship before, who has the pressure of being steve's first Gay Boyfriend, who is competing with all the prettiest girls in hawkins that steve has dated before. eddie who's constantly overthinking. eddie who's aware of steve's insecurities, who can see how badly steve wants to be loved, who can see that steve will happily accept scraps even though he deserves the world. eddie who's doing everything he can to show how much he loves steve, but it still doesn't seem like enough.

and steve who's blissfully unaware of all of it. steve who's doodling "mr steve munson" with hearts and wedding rings. steve who finally feels completely safe and secure and happy in a relationship.

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

Patreon | Bluesky | Instagram

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

sorry i covered your neck in dark hickeys and clamped down hard on your throat like limp prey while i was giving you a handjob. you whimpered a little too soft and i blacked out and believed myself to be a feral dog in possession of an entire rotisserie chicken

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

steve & robin taping a square around kas!eddie and he won’t leave it—like a cat

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

It’s lonely at the top

Part 1 | part 2 | here / final part

Read on Ao3

wc 1,698 | Steddie | angst with a happy ending!

“You need to give him some space,” Robin said over the phone. Eddie frowned. It’s been three days. He missed Steve. He nearly leaped over the couch to answer the phone, assuming it was him. Robin was the next best, he guessed. “You really hurt him.”

“I know,” Eddie said. “And I’m sorry. I really am. Will you tell him I’m done with the parties? Done with Trick? He means more to me than being liked.”

“Yeah,” Robin huffed. “You sure showed him that.”

“I mean it,” Eddie said honestly. “I do. I’m done with it all.”

“I think you need to tell him that yourself,” Robin said.

“How can I?” Eddie asked. “You won’t let me talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to you,” Robin corrected. “You need to let him be ready to accept you.”

Eddie sighed, pressing his forehead against the cabinet where the phone hung. He wished there was a way to tell Steve how sorry he was. As much as Eddie wanted to take the Green line to Robin’s dorm and talk to Steve, he can’t cross that boundary. But he needed a way to pour out his emotions, to let Steve know that he’s loved. That Eddie’s sorry. “Can I — Can I send him a letter? That way when he’s ready, he knows I’m there for him?”

There was silence on the other line as Robin thought it over. “Yeah, okay,” she said. “Just address it to me. He’s not …”

“Supposed to be there,” Eddie nodded. “Yeah. I figured. Thank you, for being there for him.”

“Yeah. Look,” Robin huffed. “If he does let you back in again, and you fuck up again. It’s your balls, Munson.”

“Understood,” Eddie said. “I promise. Never again.”

Robin hung up with a click. Eddie sighed, running his hands over his face. He fucked up. Bad.

He guessed there was no time to start writing like the present.

💌💌💌💌

“Steve, someone at table 13 requested you personally,” Jenny, the hostess said. “He’s — uh — a little scary. So if you have issues, get Rod.”

“Thanks, Jenny,” Steve said, pulling his order book from his apron. He wasn’t sure who would request him at 3 pm. Most of his early birds on Saturdays stop by the diner for brunch and he barely saw a soul until 5.

When they first moved out to Chicago, Steve had no clue what he was going to do for work. He was attending Harold Washington College to get his associates in early education, and then potentially apply to UIC. Then one day, he got off a stop too early and saw the help wanted sign. It was easy for him to pick up, he made decent tips, and it worked with his schedule well. Plus, he was able to take home food at the end of his shift.

Robin’s been enjoying the pancakes lately.

Plus, Steve loved when it was slow and Eddie would —

He closed his eyes, letting the thought disappear. He missed Eddie. His heart ached any time he thought about him. But he was afraid that Eddie didn’t miss him in the same way.

He took a deep breath and plastered on a fake smile as he greeted his table.

“Hi, welcome in. I’m Steve. I’ll be taking care —“ Steve stopped as he looked at the patron. He felt his lips turn into a frown. “Trick?”

“Patrick’s fine,” Trick winked. “I mean, we’re in your court, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve nodded. He pressed his lips together, feeling like he couldn’t stop staring at the black and blue circles under his eyes. “What happened to your — uh —“ he gestured to his own face. He winced. Trick didn’t like him in the first place. He wouldn’t give Steve the time of day. Why would he bother to tell him about an injury like that. “Sorry — shouldn’t have asked that. What can I get started for you?”

“Your boyfriend, actually,” Trick smirked. It was like ice water was dumped over Steve as the words washed over him. Trick’s smirk dropped. He leaned over the table. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Hey — hey, sorry. I didn’t mean — It’s cool. It’s — Eddie and you — are cool, I mean.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he felt any better or worse. All he could say was, “Oh.”

“Yeah, uh —“ Trick ran his fingers over his buzzed hair and exhaled. “Half of our friends are gay or lesbian or queer. It’s — that’s fine. Promise.”

“Oh,” Steve repeated. He sat on the other side of the booth, across from Trick. “Okay.”

“I just —“ Trick looked up to the ceiling before turning his attention back to Steve. “We shouldn’t have judged you. We saw you and immediate thought you were gonna be some straight jackass like we’ve dealt with our whole lives. We built this community of accepting outcasts, and outcasted you while doing so.”

Oh.

Steve wasn’t sure what to think.

When Eddie and him started to date, the Corroded Coffin boys treated him similarly. But Eddie called them out on that before it got bad.

Before it got like this.

“I guess what I wanted to say was sorry,” Trick said. “For pushing you out. And name calling.”

Steve furrowed his brow. “I don’t recall any name calling?”

“Yeah, you weren’t around for that,” Trick winced, gesturing to his nose. “Eddie made sure I knew that was wrong.”

“Eddie,” Steve breathed. “My Eddie?”

“Yep,” Trick said. “I hope he gave you a big apology for everything. So, tell me. What do you got that’s good to eat here?”

Steve took Trick’s order — one strawberry milkshake and an order of fruit loaded French toast — sent it to the kitchen, then went into the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and pulled out Eddie’s letter from his apron pocket. The first letter arrived last Monday. And he received a letter every day that he’s stayed with Robin.

With a shaky breath, Steve opened the letter.

💌💌💌💌

Dear Steve, there’s nothing in the world that I can do to make this up to you. But I will try every day to make sure that you don’t ever forgotten again. You are the stars that light my way home, the sun that brings warmth into my light, and the moon that shines love over me. To experience your love is something truly unreal. And to think I put you on the back burner for a taste of popularity? It was like the Ring of Power overtook my mind. I got lost in the feeling of being admired by many, I forgot what it’s like to be loved by one. I’d travel to Mordor and back for you. Through the Gap of Rohan and through the Mines of Mora.

In a world where everyone could know my name, I’d only want to know yours.

My apologies will never be enough. Love, Eddie

💌💌💌💌

I hope you are well. I hope your classes are going good and that you’re excelling. I know you are. You’re so fucking smart, you blow me away with every new piece of knowledge you brought home. I hope that basketball at the YMCA is going good. I’m sorry I missed your last couple of games. There is no excuse. I hope one day you’d allow me to be by your side again, cheering you on.

You deserve the world, baby. Nothing will stop me from showing you that. Everything from the water in the rivers to the trees in the forest. From the canyons in Arizona to the mountains in Colorado. It’s yours. It’s all yours. You deserve everything. You deserve the best. And I promise that I will prove that.

Forever in love, Eddie

💌💌💌💌

I’d move heaven and hell

Just to see you smile again

Or remember how it felt

To have you in my arms

When I begged God for mercy

In the depth of hells

It was nothing compared

To begging for the mercy of you

To hear you laugh, to see you smile

To counting the stars across your skin

To pick up where we left off

To start all over again

I’d move heaven and hell for you

💌💌💌💌

Steve folded the letters, slipping them back into the envelope and set them on his nightstand.

He laid back down, turning to his side. Eddie’s side of the bed was empty. Like it has been for four days.

After Steve read the first letter, he found his way back to their apartment. Eddie was hope and nearly wrapped his arms around Steve, stopping as if there was an invisible barrier in between them. Eddie stopped, respecting that boundary at the threshold.

It was Steve to crack.

Steve who took that step over the threshold and fell into Eddie’s arms, burying his face into Eddie’s neck. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve, holding him tight. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” was all Eddie could say.

They agreed they needed to slowly integrate back into each others’ lives. Communicate when they’re feeling alone and listen when one’s feeling distressed. Nightmares seemed easier to deal with, but they were going to work it through.

Eddie said he would sleep on the couch until Steve was ready for him. “No matter how long it takes, sweetheart,” Eddie said, pressing a kiss against Steve’s knuckles. “When you’re ready for me, I’m here.”

And Eddie truly meant that. They could go back to just friends and Eddie would accept it. He would be heartbroken, but to have Steve in his life again?

That’s worth everything to Eddie.

Eddie was jostled awake, feeling the couch cushion shift underneath him. The blanket on his body lifted up and a familiar weight settle on his chest. He felt at home again. Eddie tugged the blanket back over the both of them, one hand around Steve’s waist and the other tangled in his hair as Steve laid his head on Eddie’s chest. Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple, taking a silent vow to never lose him again.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

"You just can't handle the fact that these people aren't falling all over themselves to get your attention for once in your life!" Eddie growls, arms thrown in the air in exasperation.

"I don't care about getting their attention, Eddie!" Steve says once again because it feels like they've been arguing in circles forever when it's really only been about half an hour. Steve wishes he could say that he didn't understand how they got here but he does.

Eddie and his new friends. Friends that don't like Steve and go out of their way to make sure he knows that. Friends that throw snide remarks that Eddie chuckles along with. Friends that make Steve feel unwanted in his own home.

It's infuriating and frustrating and hurtful that Eddie just lets them talk about Steve like that, lets them talk to Steve like that.

"Right, so you've said," Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, like Steve's the one being immature.

"Well, since you think I'm fucking lying or something, what do you think this is about?" Steve's says, hands on his hips as he stares down Eddie at the other end of the tiny galley kitchen of their apartment.

Eddie works his jaw, the way Steve's seen him do when he's holding back a comment he thinks is particularly scathing. It's been a while since Steve's been on the receiving end of this.

"Just say it, Eddie! We're never going to end this argument unless you do," Steve goads. If Eddie will just say the thing, they can talk it out. They can work through this. Steve can fix it, but only if Eddie tells him the truth.

"Maybe it's just fucking karma, Steve!" Eddie yells. "Maybe you just can't handle that I have friends who think you're not cool and they aren't going to pretend you are!"

Steve's jaw drops, the infuriating-frustrating-hurt feeling intensifying into what feels like a lead ball in Steve's gut. Karma. Karma? "Karma? Like because I was a self-centered asshole in school that I, what, deserve to be treated like trash by your so-called 'friends'!?" Steve goes as far as to make air quotes around the word friends.

"Yeah, maybe," Eddie says, quick and even like he... like he really believes that.

Like he really believes that this treatment is what Steve deserves.

"This situation is not the same," Steve shouts back.

"Seems the same to me. The group majority against the minority. It's not like you ever stood up for anyone when Hagan was trying to give everyone swirlies, or when Perkins would knock shit out of people's hands and fake laugh an apology. You just can't handle it now that you're the minority."

"That's not the fucking same! I didn't know you in high school!"

"Well, they don't know you, either!"

All the fight drains from Steve at those words. It's like Eddie has flipped the switch in his brain to see what is happening. To see it from Eddie's point of view. Or, if Steve is being kind, the point of view of Eddie's friends who don't know Steve because they refused to get to know him.

"So, what, they're allowed to treat me the way you think I treated you?" Steve asks, voice quiet and matter of fact.

"Yes," Eddie says and then his face pinches as he actually processes what Steve said. "Wait. No. That's not- It's not exactly like that. It's just, like- the guys were saying it was status quo or something."

The guys. Eddie's 'friends'.

It's strange how 'the guys' went from meaning Jeff, Gareth, and Grant to this new group of friends and Jeff, Gareth, and Grant have become The Band. A separate, new category, othering even them from Eddie's new friends.

"I- Are you even hearing yourself right now?" Steve says in disbelief. He can see Eddie getting worked up again, so he barrels on. "I'm not just some jock you don't know. I'm your boyfriend. Your fucking boyfriend, Eddie! If you were my boyfriend in high school, I wouldn't have ever let my friends speak to you the way you let them talk to me!

"And I can't even defend myself because then everything they're saying is fucking true! That I'm a bullshit dumb jock just waiting for a chance to get violent. And I'm not! I'm not a jock anymore. And I'm not dumb! And I'm not bullshit!" Steve's vision gets blurry, and he knows he's crying but he doesn't really register it. The hurt he's feeling is leaving his body and he's just feeling numb now. "Jesus Christ, Eddie, I would never let someone talk to you the way you let your friends talk to me, and about me! Because beyond it just being the goddamn decent thing to do is not let people speak about others like that, but I love you and I can't imagine ever allowing someone to treat you the way your friends treat me. Why do you like them more than you love me!?"

Eddie's face is doing something complicated, like it always does when Steve cries. Like Eddie wants to sooth him but isn't sure how.

And that's all it takes. Something in Steve crumbles but not in the way he wants it to. Steve was hoping that if they talked this out that they could be okay. They could figure out a way forward.

Because here is Eddie's face, showing how much he loves and cares for Steve and wants to help him, but all Steve realizes is that Eddie might love him, but not enough to tell his friends to treat Steve with some basic respect and kindness.

He can't be here anymore. He can't be in this kitchen and see his hurt reflected on Eddie's face. He can't be in this apartment that used to feel so cozy and comforting and now just feels like a prison. He doesn't know if he can even be in this relationship if Eddie doesn't love him the same way as he used it.

How did they get to this point? How did they get to a point where Eddie is just okay with people treating Steve this way? How did Steve let it go this long without addressing it sooner?

When did Eddie decide that the approval of his new friends was more important than his feelings for Steve?

"Steve, I-"

Steve doesn't stick around to hear whatever it is Eddie's going to say. He turns on heel, speed walking to the door where he pauses just long enough to grab his jacket from the coat rack before fleeing the apartment.

-

Inspired by @novacorpsrecruit's fic, It’s lonely at the top. Which has a happy ending, so you should read it.