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cherrycolored-punk · 2 months ago

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NHTK - Chapter One

Masterlist

summary: You’d always been warned by your older brother about the bad boys. The ones with the long hair, tattooed arms, and played in a band. Especially the one that is his best friend.

pairing: brother's best friend! Eddie Munson x fem! Reader, reader is Reefer Rick’s little sister.

trope/themes: forbidden love, friends to lovers

w/c: 5.6k

author's note: this is a repost from my previous blog @strangemagicc and I’ve been debating whether or not I should but I love their story so much. I hope you enjoy ! 🖤 a side note: yes, I did get drunk off my own jungle juice and yes, that did result in the worst sunburn of my life. I pour with a heavy hand.

warnings: angst, mention of cheating (technically not reader), mention of anxiety, brief mention of unwanted touching, underage drinking/smoking, a little sprinkle of smut (does clothed grinding count?). Let me know if I missed anything!

The Cunningham home was packed with bodies, familiar faces, and those you didn’t know. You stood near the front door fiddling with the zipper on your purse as you scanned the room searching for a familiar face.

Party lights bounced off a disco ball that hung haphazardly from a chandelier sending a kaleidoscope of blues and purples dancing across the foyer.

The loud music hummed in the walls, vibrating when the bass dropped. You bobbed your head to it mindlessly, without rhythm, feeling uncomfortable in the swarm of bodies around you. The foyer was crowded with partygoers, some locked in an embrace and others pushing their way up the stairs to the rooms that lined the hallway for some privacy.

Your teeth dug into your lower lip, eyebrows marrying in the middle as you searched above the sea of bodies. You were supposed to meet your best friend, Rachel, outside nearly an hour ago but your shift at Hawk Theater had dragged on, and now you didn’t know where to find her or your boyfriend for that matter.

That’s when you spotted them.

It felt like ice had filled your veins as you watched the way the familiar form of your boyfriend’s lips pushed against your best friend’s. Their mouths a frenzied dance, their eyes squished close. Her hands in his hair, his palms tracing down her exposed skin. You couldn’t move, disbelief keeping you anchored in place and watching the two of them as the rest of the world fell silent. Loud music muffled, and voices drowned out by the hammering of your heart against your ribcage.

A shoulder bumped yours causing your purse to fall as a partygoer rushed through the door to where their friends were gathered.

“Fuck,” You blinked rapidly and bent down to grab the black leather, eyes darting around at people’s shoes as you tried to regain your surroundings.

When you stood, you watched as Simon whispered in Rachel’s ear. She let out a small laugh in response to whatever he said before nodding. You began to push your way through the crowd, but bodies pushed back, and you watched as Simon led Rachel up the stairs through a throng of people. Her hand clasped in his, megawatt smile on display, and you wondered if this was the first time he had led her to a secluded room. Wondered how many stolen glances or hints you had missed.

You stopped pushing your way through and ignored the shouting in your head telling you to move, move, move.

What would you do?

What would you say?

Did it matter?

Shoulders pushed into yours as you stood still, wishing the earth would swallow you whole.

You held in the tears threatening to spill, allowing the hurt to settle into your stomach and create a dull ache.

People shoved past you, and you let your body be moved by the crowd as your eyes danced around the house.

For the first time, you noticed the smiling faces and chiseled jaws you’d ignored the past four years.

Squaring your shoulders, you pushed back against the bodies creating a path to the kitchen. Empty bottles and cans littered the counters. White granite stickied with beer and liquor.

You grabbed a plastic cup and waited for your turn at the keg. Jason Carver manned the pump and eyed you as you approached, handing him your empty plastic cup.

“Well, if it isn’t Rick’s little sister,” he started, a fake smile plastered wide on his face. You gave him a sarcastic grin and grabbed for your beer as he topped it off. None too keen on being called, let alone known as Reefer Rick’s little sister.

Jason pulled away, holding your beer just out of reach.

“Your brother was supposed to have someone here supplying the party favors. What gives?”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes rolled. Hawkins’ Golden Boy was always itching for his next fix.

“I’m sure one of his little lackeys is crawling around here somewhere.” You held your arms up, gesturing around you before reaching back up for your drink. He held it away from you again, and your shoulders sagged, annoyance building.

“Come on, Carver. Give the lady her drink,” Another boy grabbed the cup, handing it to you with a soft smile.

He was cute in an obvious way, skin glowing with a fading summer tan that highlighted the blue of his eyes.

“Thanks,” you responded with a small grin, your hand grazing his as you grabbed for your drink.

“Any time.” His eyes held yours, his hand still outstretched and warm beneath your touch.

A perfect distraction.

———————————

Eddie sank into the worn-down couch cushions with a heavy sigh, his legs spread wide so no one would sit too close. Not that they would dare to anyway.

He sat with a view of the foyer and kitchen, both areas crowded with people in various stages of inebriation.

Unfamiliar faces were cast in a rainbow of colors by the party lights illuminating multiple parts of the house. His eyes darted from one room to another.

Empty bottles of hard liquor were toppled against the kitchen counter. Plastic cups littered the room near the two kegs that sat in the middle of the tiled floor, sticky with spilled beer and marred by dirty footprints.

It was a familiar scene, one that played out the same way nearly every weekend since Eddie could remember.

But now his nerves were withering away, disappearing into nothingness as the minutes ticked by. Bored out of his mind.

Another generic pop song blasted through the speakers, another once jock tried to negotiate the price of Eddie’s already cheap supply.

His jaw was set, and if he didn’t need the money so fucking bad, he wouldn’t be here. At another house party for has-beens and once popular teens inching towards full-blown adulthood. No longer barely legal, a year closer to buying beer without sneaking it past an unsuspecting convenience store clerk.

He chugged his beer, streams of amber liquid pouring out on either side of his mouth as he drank harshly. Sloppily. Until the lukewarm liquid was gone and he was staring down into an empty plastic cup. Eddie threw his head against the cushions debating whether another cup of cheap beer was worth giving up his spot on the couch.

And then you caught his eye. Your back pressed to a guy he’d never seen you with.

His brow quirked up curiously as he watched you. The way the hem of your dress inched up with the movement of your hips, the way your eyes were closed as you swayed to the rhythm of the music and took a swig of whatever filled your plastic cup.

Didn’t you have a boyfriend?

He was surprised to see you here. Somewhere seemingly not your scene, surrounded by people he knew you didn’t like.

In truth, Eddie knew very little about you these days. Your interactions had been limited since the two of you worked side by side at the theater. A job he was fired from when the manager caught him making deals on the clock and company property. Since then, he only caught glimpses of you when he came by your house to see your brother. A passing hello or a quick goodbye. Never anything like those days spent conversing by the cinema dumpsters while being scorched by the summer sun.

You turned around and whispered something in the guy’s ear and pointed to your cup before weaving through the crowd.

Your back was to Eddie, hands reaching towards bottle after bottle, shaking them to check their contents. All coming up empty.

He chuckled when you spotted the giant cooler filled with Chrissy’s concoction of jungle juice; a mix of pineapple malibu, cherry moonshine, and fruit punch.

Eddie pushed himself off his spot on the couch and moved through the crowd towards you. Approaching just as you filled the cup to the brim and brought it towards your waiting lips. He pulled the red plastic from your hands and gave you a chastising grin.

“Don’t think so, little Lipton,” he took a swig and raised his eyebrows as the sweetness hit his tongue.

You gave him an annoyed glare and reached for your drink just as he pulled it out of your nearing grasp with an amused grin.

“I’m sorry, Munson, since when did you become an advocate against public displays of intoxication?” You reached up and snatched your cup back from his hand, looking at him with a questioning arch of your eyebrow.

He noticed the way your words were somewhat slurred, your cheeks a shade darker from the alcohol you’d already consumed.

“See you got a new boyfriend,” Eddie stated, jutting his chin toward your dance partner and ignoring the insinuation of your words. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at you with an amused gleam in his eye as he waited for your explanation.

“That guy?” You turned to the cute brunette who was waiting for you to return before looking back at Eddie.

“I just met him like two seconds ago,” you hiccuped and let out a small laugh as Eddie looked back to the brunette who was eyeing him wearily.

“What happened to Simon?”

“He’s probably still upstairs fucking Rachel,” you waved him off and shrugged before taking another sip of your drink.

“What?” Eddie couldn’t have heard you right. Simon had been your boyfriend since the summer you turned sixteen, having met him while working at Hawk Theater alongside Eddie.

“Look, Munson, is there a point to this line of questioning?”

Your buzzed mind was becoming less cloudy, the feelings you’d been pushing down threatening to come to the surface, and all you wanted to be was distracted.

“Your brother wouldn’t be too happy if I let you get drunk at some house party,” he sighed, changing the subject.

“Well, isn’t it a good thing that he isn’t here, and you can just pretend you didn’t see me?” You smiled over your cup before chugging some of the drink.

The sugary sweetness of the fruit punch nearly overpowered the taste of the strong liquor mixed with it but still, it burned as it went down. Eddie shook his head, his tongue jutting into his cheek to fight the wide grin that threatened to spread at your words.

“I wouldn’t chug that if I were you,” he warned, and you rolled your eyes, removing the plastic from your lips with a scowl pointed in his direction.

“Since when are you such a party pooper?” You poked at his chest with your free hand.

“Plus, I’ve already had a beer or two.” You held up one too many fingers to him as you pressed the cup to your lips and swallowed harshly.

“Come on, (Y/N), this isn’t like you,” he frowned.

“How would you know, Eddie?” You said his name like it was a curse word as you looked at him through hooded eyes.

He opened his mouth to respond when a passerby pushed against him to get through the crowd causing his frame to lurch into yours. A small splash of your drink soaked through your sweater, and you pushed back against his torso instinctively, his chest hard against the palm of your hand.

“Shit, sorry,” his warm breath fanned your face. A hint of spearmint mixed with the scent of cigarettes caught your nose as you inhaled sharply, caught off guard by the sudden contact of his hand against your hip, steadying himself from the crowd's sway.

You gazed up at him, your hand still on his chest, into his wide brown eyes. His cheeks were colored pink as his hand darted away from you.

“Sorry,” he whispered again, and you gave him a sardonic smile, enjoying the way he squirmed by being this close to you. Too close.

“Maybe we should get you home to change,” he pointed to your stained sweater, and you shrugged as you placed your drink on the counter.

“Trying to get me alone, Munson?” You teased, and maybe it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was the way you wished his nervous energy was because you affected him the same way he had always affected you.

You pulled at the hem of the green pullover revealing the tight black lace dress you wore underneath. Eddie’s gaze dropped instinctively, eyeing how the material hugged your curves. You grabbed his wrist and dropped the sweater into his open palm.

“Hold onto that for me,” you picked your cup back up from the counter.

“And don’t worry, Rick doesn’t have to know,” you gave him a small wink before turning away from him and pushing back through the crowd.

Eddie stared at you, his mouth agape as you disappeared back into the sea of people and picked up where you left off with your dance partner. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck—the guy whose name you didn’t even know.

Eddie glanced back down at your sweater in his outstretched hand and shook his head unsure of exactly what had gotten into you.

He grabbed another cup of beer and leaned against a wooden beam near the living room, his eyes always finding you when he looked around the room. Eddie made a few deals and sold most of his supply, a few hundred dollars closer to his goal of finally leaving Hawkins behind.

Eddie looked up and watched as stranger boy’s hands drifted down your hips and dug into your thighs. You pushed his hands back up to your waist, your head swaying to the music as the two of you continued to dance.

But stranger boy’s hands crept down your hip once again, inching lower and lower until they glided past the hem of your dress. You stilled and turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck. His chest flush with yours, blue eyes dull into you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. A flirty smile on his lips.

“Able to keep your hands to yourself, pretty boy?” Although you wanted a distraction, you still had reservations. Boundaries you didn’t want to cross. Not when your still boyfriend was upstairs.

“What’s the fun in that,” He whispered into your ear, palms sliding down and cupping your ass. Your smile fell, and you pushed at his chest, putting space between you.

“Knock it off,” your voice came out louder, barely heard above the music. Eddie tensed and pushed off the wooden beam he’d been leaning on. Your date looked uneasily around the crowd and back at you.

“Don’t be such a tease. You’ve been grinding on my dick for most of the night.” You scoffed at him and shook your head.

Eddie began to walk in your direction, pushing past the crowd that had turned its attention towards you.

“I was dancing,” you corrected just as Eddie approached. His lean frame towered next to you, eyes set on the guy whose name you now didn’t care to know.

“We got a problem here?” Eddie questioned.

“Should’ve expected your brother’s dealer to be your little lap dog,” the brunette laughed, cocky. Annoyance thrummed through your veins, and you began to step toward him but Eddie grabbed your arm, his warm palm pressed against your exposed skin.

“He’s not even worth it,” Eddie whispered and pulled you back, “let’s go.” You nodded at his words and turned to leave with him, emotional exhaustion now weighing heavy on your shoulders.

Eddie followed behind you, ignoring the way the sea of heads watched him like he was some carnival freak on display.

“Stupid slut,” the brunette muttered as he turned towards his friends, and Eddie stopped in his tracks, a dark grin coloring his features.

“On second thought.” He turned and took a wide step, swinging without hesitation.

His clenched fist connected with the guy’s jaw sending him stumbling back and falling to the ground. Eddie stood over him, chest rising and falling rapidly. Ready for a fight. The guy groaned on the ground, holding his jaw where Eddie’s fist had already left a mark. You stood stunned into silence, the whispers of the crowd breaking you from your reverie.

“Eddie, we should go,” you grabbed onto his hand and pulled as the crowd’s murmurs began to grow louder. A bigger fight could cause the police to be called and Eddie didn’t need a bigger record.

He didn’t budge, gaze still fixed on the guy writhing in pain on the floor.

“Let’s go,” you urged and pulled on his hand hard, this time he followed. You led him through the crowd and out the front door, ignoring the dozens of eyes that watched you leave.

His palm was still pressed to yours when you reached the sidewalk, the night breeze cold against your exposed skin sobering you. You stopped and dropped Eddie’s hand as you looked up to him.

“What the fuck was that?” You pointed towards the house now in the distance with an outstretched hand before crossing your arms over your chest. The moon illuminated Eddie in a hazy white glow, the street lamps dim on the other side of the street.

“Me protecting you?” He questioned, his eyebrows creasing as he took in your sour expression.

“You didn’t need to do that!” Your voice rose.

“That guy had his greasy hands all over you and called you a slut, but you’re mad at me?” His tone was filled with incredulity, eyes wide and shocked.

“No, I just-,” you sighed and pressed your fingers against the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes as you tried to put into words how you felt.

Hurt?

Confused?

Angry?

Like a fucking idiot for dancing with some loser at a house party you didn’t even want to be at in the first place.

“Thank you,” you sighed and looked up at him. It was better than an explanation of your misplaced anger.

“I mean it,” you grabbed onto his hand so he knew that you meant it. He looked to your connected hands and back at you.

“Any time, Spielberg,” he gave you a cocky smile and you dropped his hand, watching as he walked past you to his van.

“We agreed you’d never call me that again,” you said through gritted teeth, following behind him. Eddie turned and began to walk backward, keyring twirling on his finger.

“No, you asked me to stop. I never agreed to it.” He stopped in front of his black van and opened the passenger door.

“Your chariot awaits,” he stepped aside so you could climb in, presenting the passenger seat as though it were a grand prize.

“I can walk, Eds,” you chuckled and began to walk past him. You figured the night air would do you good. Eddie yanked you by your shoulder reeling you back towards him.

“Get in the fucking car,” he pushed you towards the seat and waited until you were situated before closing the door. He ran around the front of the vehicle and quickly climbed into the driver’s seat.

As Eddie started the car you noticed his bloody knuckles. Guilt reared its ugly head and you grimaced at the sight of his already bruising flesh. As he waited for the car to warm up, you rummaged through your bag looking for the travel-sized first aid kit you kept buried at the bottom, and quietly rejoiced when you found it.

Without asking you reached for his hand and settled it into your lap. When he tried pulling away you squeezed his wrist to hold him into place.

“What are you doing?” He questioned, glancing between you and his split knuckles.

“What does it look like?” You gave him a teasing look and grabbed an alcohol wipe, tearing open the package before blotting the pad gently against his skin.

Eddie winced and you looked at him with a silent apology before blowing on his knuckles to help them dry.

His gaze traced the curve of your nose down to the plush of your lips, swallowing hard as his eyes lingered. A little hypnotized, just as you’d always had him. You placed a bandaid on each cut and patted his hand softly breaking Eddie from his trance.

“All better,” you stated and glanced up at him with a satisfied grin.

He pulled his hand away and cleared his throat, refocusing his attention on the road ahead as he pulled away from the curb. Eddie eyed his bandaged hand resting on the steering wheel as he drove.

Of course, you’d have Hello Kitty bandaids.

He shook his head but couldn’t fight the way his grin grew wide and took over his features.

The two of you drove towards your house in silence, Soundgarden playing low on the radio.

Houses passed in a dark blur, the clouds covering any light the moon had offered. It had been years since the two of you had been alone for more than a passing moment. Not since those days spent at work where Eddie got to know you as more than his best friend’s little sister.

You fiddled with the hem of your dress, conflicted by to say or if you should say anything. It didn’t go unnoticed by Eddie who began to glance between you and the road, measuring his words just as cautiously.

“Sorry about your-“

“Do you think-“

The both of you began speaking at once and you chuckled awkwardly as you looked towards him. He nodded at you to go ahead, giving you the floor to speak.

“Do you think we could go somewhere? It could be anywhere, I just really don’t want to go home right now,” you shrugged, continuing to play with the material of your dress.

The two of you were already close to your home, the trees becoming more dense as you approached but he nodded. He turned his van down a different path, the trees opening as you approached the Lake.

The light of the moon and stars glittered off the calm waters, peaceful. Serene. A different scene from the events of the night. He parked near the edge of the trees and killed the lights, taking off his seatbelt before looking at you. Nervous energy hummed in his chest and was evident in the way he bounced his leg absently.

“This good?”

You gave him a weak smile and nodded. The guilt had spread and made a home of your chest. Eddie got hurt because of you. Lost out on sales defending you.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” you began, your eyes focused on the darkness of the lake.

Eddie watched you, the way your teeth chewed at your bottom lip. Your anxious energy palpable.

“I’m sorry you had to get mixed up in my mess,” you looked at him now and Eddie shook his head.

“Like I was going to let Chris Grandy call you a stupid slut,” he rolled his eyes.

You giggled to yourself. So that was the douchebag’s name.

“It really doesn’t matter,” you shrugged. “Probably was acting like one.”

You’d only ever had one serious boyfriend in your life and he’d spent the night upstairs with your childhood best friend. There was a lot you didn’t know about dating or the rules of flirting. What gave guys the wrong idea or made them think you wanted something more and you kept playing it over in your head wondering what you could’ve done differently.

Eddie’s leg stopped bouncing as he watched you and the anger built up in his chest. He wasn’t mad at you, he was so fucking pissed off that the slime ball made you feel like this. Made you feel guilty for enjoying yourself or question whether you did anything wrong.

“You were having fun,” he started, “and regardless of how you danced or what you said, when you told him to stop he should’ve stopped. Nothing you did or said justifies him being a fucking creep.”

He was seething, you could tell from the way his chest rose and fell. From the way his jaw was clenched, the moonlight illuminating his features.

Munson had always been handsome, cute in a not-so-conventional way. It was the way his curly hair framed his high cheekbones and the plush of his lips. The way his big brown eyes were always animated when he talked about something he liked.

The first time you noticed it, noticed him, was when you were thirteen. You spent that summer blubbering in his presence, finding any excuse to talk to him or go into your brother’s room. The crush never really went away, always lingered in the back of your mind and now in the way your heart thrummed as his gaze was fixed on you. A silent plea begging you to understand what he told you.

It was like a magnetic pull the way you leaned closer to him, eyes trained on his as you inched closer.

“You don’t think there’s anything wrong with me having fun?” You questioned with innocent eyes and looked up at him through your lashes, your face closer to his.

“Why would there be?” He swallowed, his gaze flicking from yours to the pout of your lips.

Eddie was losing the little bit of composure he’d been able to maintain all these years. The warnings your brother had given sounded off like alarms in his head.

“Also, I’m the one who needs to apologize,” he grimaced and began to play with the rings on his fingers, changing the subject. Trying to distract himself from the way the scent of your perfume had him a little disjointed.

“For what?” You pursed your lips, perplexed.

“I’m, uh, pretty sure I left your sweater back there at the party. Nearly one hundred percent positive,” he looked at you with a sideways grimace, already shrinking away as he anticipated your reaction but you only laughed.

“I ruined it with Chrissy’s weird concoction anyway,” you dropped your face into your hand, your body shaking with laughter.

“I still can’t believe you drank that shit,” he laughed with you, “it had me on my ass a few years ago at her Fourth of July party.”

“No way,” your laugh grew louder as you absently held onto his arm, encouraging him to divulge.

“In my defense, those sugary drinks are the ones that get you,” his body shook with his building laughter.

“Could barely taste the moonshine she puts in it so I had a few cups,” he shook his head, “I fell asleep in one of those loungers by the pool and the next thing I remembered was waking up in some random room laughing to myself with the worst sunburn of my life.”

You winced at the picture he painted, imagining his pale skin marred by the sun.

“So that’s why you took my cup,” realization dawned upon you.

“Just trying to save you, little Lipton,” he agreed and you groaned.

“I wish people would stop calling me that. I’m not just Rick’s sister you know?” Your shoulders sagged. It had always been like that.

People, boys, avoiding you because of who your brother was. Ghosting you once they found out your last name, his reputation preceding you.

Until Simon.

“I know you’re not,” he assured you earnestly.

“You’re definitely just saying that,” you rolled your eyes.

“Since when have I told you something just because it’s what you want to hear, Spielberg?” He emphasized the nickname you hated to prove his point.

You leaned over the middle console and jabbed at his ribs with your finger causing him to jump and grab at your hand.

“This is the thanks I get for saving your life,” he dramatized and grabbed your other hand as he dodged its attack.

He held onto your hands, your laughter mixing with his, and stared up into his eyes.

You could say it was the alcohol still clouding your mind for what you did next, could say it was because you still needed the distraction you sought at the beginning of the night.

Eddie smelled like apple and bergamot, a hint of weed and tobacco. He swallowed hard as you leaned closer. He felt the warmth of your breath against his face and watched as your eyes fluttered close.

He hesitated for a moment before closing the rest of the space. Heart beating faster than it had that night.

Your breath hitched with the first contact of his lips. They were smooth, almost pillowy against your own, as they matched the pace you set. He released your hands and you twined them in his curls, soft like you’d always imagined.

Eddie’s hands fell into his lap and clenched into fists as the kiss deepened, your tongue parting the seam of his mouth. He opened and slowly met yours with the tip of his own.

You tasted like cherry chapstick and fruit punch, sweet like he always thought you would be and it was getting so hard not to touch you.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, spreading to your veins in a low hum and you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him flush against you. His hands left his lap and wrapped around your waist, fingers digging into your flesh.

He pulled you across the middle console into his lap and you moved without hesitation, your mouth still pressed to his.

There was an unspoken need shared in the way your mouths meshed, in the way he swallowed your sighs and you elicited his groans. It felt like you were floating, head buzzing from a different kind of inebriation.

You wanted more, you needed more but the bright lights of a passing car broke you two apart.

Eddie stilled beneath you and pulled away from your still-pursed lips.

“Shit,” he whispered and closed his eyes as he hit his head against the headrest.

You bit into your lower lip and played with the material of his black t-shirt, looking at him curiously. Confusion evident on your brow.

“What’s wrong?” He shook his head, eyes still closed as his fingers traced absent lines back and forth over your naked thighs.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he shook his head and you stilled.

“We shouldn’t be or you don’t want to be?” You felt as though he was making an excuse, trying to let you down easily instead of telling you that he regretted kissing you.

“Shouldn’t be,” he lifted his head and finally opened his eyes.

He brought his hand to your face and held you, tracing an absent thumb over your cheekbone.

“Who says we shouldn’t be?” You leaned into his touch and rubbed your hands over his chest, enjoying the way his heart thrummed against your palms.

Eddie had trouble concentrating, distracted with you pressed against the evidence of his budding arousal.

Even in the silence you both knew the answer to his question, the boundary that had always been there. Invisible but palpable.

You’d always been warned by your older brother about the bad boys. The ones with the long hair, tattooed arms, and played in a band. Especially the one that is his best friend.

“You know who,” he finally responded, hands gripping your thighs as you shifted in his lap and you smirked. Enjoying the way Eddie Munson looked a little dazed beneath you.

“Nobody has to know if you don’t want them to,” you muttered as you leaned closer, your breath fanning his face. Lips enticing him and he swallowed hard. Resolve wavering under the intensity of his want.

He closed the little space that remained between the two of you, lips not as gentle as before when they pressed against yours. His kisses were hungry. Needier than before.

It felt like he was kissing you like he’d always wanted to, but you didn’t dare hope for that type of reciprocation. Satisfied to have him bucking into your clothed pussy, moans escaping his lips as he held you against him and ground your hips over his boner.

You moaned as he peppered kisses down your jaw and across your neck, nibbling against the sensitive flesh of your throat.

Leaving his marks where everyone could see.

Where Simon could see.

You stilled for a moment but a moment was all Eddie needed to stop, to regain clarity. To push you off his lap with a heavy sigh, a quick rise and fall of his chest. You sank into the passenger and stared at him, your breaths matching his.

“We need to stop,” he shook his head and took a deep breath, running his sweaty palms over his pants. You only nodded, your voice lost as your thoughts collided with each other. Confusion etched into your forehead.

Eddie adjusted his jeans and looked over his shoulder before reversing his car. He needed to get you home before his resolve completely dissipated. Before you did something with him that you might regret like the others.

You fell into silence, eyes trained on the passing trees that were barely visible under the pale moonlight. Embarrassment clung to you, sticky and suffocating. Rejection mingling with the hurt that was beginning to resurface.

The short drive to your house was quiet and you didn’t turn to say thank you as you hopped out of his van.

You clamored through your door, the quiet of your empty house greeting you.

Eddie watched as you slipped into the darkness of your home, and a wave of guilt settled over him as he remembered your brother’s words. As the image of your confused face resurfaced behind his closed eyes. He thumped his head against the steering wheel and groaned loudly.

“Fuck!”

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deathbecomesthem · 4 months ago

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Basement Apartment Part 2/2

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader - 6.6K

+18 ONLY - Minors DNI

Summary - It's 2001, and you've just moved into this new basement apartment. It's not so bad, except for the neighbor directly above your bedroom.

Contains a mean reader (kinda). There is smut within Eddie is submissive here, but there isn't really any kind of actual dom/sub dynamic. This is kind of an enemies to lovers deal. Sorta. Alcohol. Use of derogatory language against Eddie.

Part 1

A/N: Thank you @jo-harrington for loving this story, and thank you for editing this at a moment's notice. Love you forever.

The alley is dark with only a singular halo of light illuminated by the light perched over the oversized metal door through which you and Jeannie just exited. There’s a rusty pipe just outside of the circle of light dripping into a small puddle of trash water next to an open dumpster. Cigarette butts litter the ground like the memories of past alleyway encounters to which you and Jeannie will add your own.

“You really are the hottest girl I’ve seen around here in a long time.” Jeannie’s smile is sweet, one of a Chesire cat grin. She’s eyeing you up and down in appreciation. “Maybe that’s just because I get to see you put Ed in his place for once.” You cough out a laugh because it is fun to put that boy in his place. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s actually a great guy, just a cocky bastard when someone gets his dick hard.”

“Yeah, well, sounds like most of the guys I’ve dealt with,” you exhale the words along with a mournful sigh. You think about the casual misogyny that impacts every aspect of your daily life and frown at the thought. Just another man that looks at you like a prize, something they can win. Something they deserve.

“Nah, Ed really is a good guy. Not your typical asshole. Don’t let him fool you.” Eyebrows cocked, you take in the cheeky smile on Jeannie’s face. Guess I’m not getting any pussy tonight.

“I take it this” you move your hand between yourself and Jeannie “is not happening, eh?”

“Can’t do it, pretty. Not when you dance with me, and eye fuck a guy. No hard feelings.” No, no hard feelings. Not for Jeannie, anyway. No, you’re a stupid bisexual mess, and that’s not her fault.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I cock blocked myself.” This has you both laughing. “I’m sorry, that was bad behavior. You’re being too nice about it.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” Jeannie rubs out her cigarette and wiggles her fingers at you in a goodbye as she turns and heads back into work. She stops at the door and adds, “He’s not a bad guy. He’s really not,” and the door is closing, leaving you alone in that circle of light to listen to the water drip, drip, drip while the filter of your cigarette starts to burn.

You hear faint laughter and watch a couple walking by, arms wrapped around each other. You step to the side, hiding in the shadow so you can watch them without being seen. You let out a little groan and stomp your foot in frustration.

“Fuck this.” You’re done, ready to go home and find a bottle in the cabinet. You consider going to 2A to see if Mary and Steve were around, but you couldn’t bear the idea of cock blocking Mary too. It was pissing you off that this guy was in your head. It was pissing you off that you wanted him.

The short walk home is not enough. Just as your apartment building appears in the distance, you detour through an empty parking lot. This is a spot you’ve never explored, an elementary school with 4 square lines spray painted in the pavement, rusty basketball hoops, monkey bars, and 3 swings lined up in a row. One of the swings has been tossed over the top of the poles a few times, it sits higher than the other two. The moon is out, the air is calm, and you don’t mind the slight bite of cold through your thin pantyhose. You swing.

At first, it’s a gentle movement, but muscle memory takes over. You find yourself pumping your arms and legs, gaining momentum. Higher, higher, and higher still. You let your laughter erupt in the open air. Your breath fans out in a cloud around your face. You feel clean and free for a moment. You are laughing and swinging for what feels like hours, until something draws your attention.

A jingling sound can be heard at the side of the building, near the old basketball court. Someone is walking a dog, maybe? Your senses are heightened at the perceived possible threat, dragging your feet on the soft earth beneath the swing, you open the snap at the top of your purse. Then you see what is approaching, sauntering, towards you. A huff of aggravation leaves your mouth.

“You come here often?” The line is so ridiculously delivered, a faux husky voice, it earns Eddie a small laugh, and you can see his back straighten with pride. “Shouldn’t you be sitting at the bar waiting for Jeannie to get off work?”

“Did you put a tracking device on me somewhere? For fuck’s sake, give a girl a break.” His head is wobbling back and forth, as if to say, yeah, sorry. His long legs squat deeply to allow himself to rest on the swing to your right. You can’t help but giggle, the sight is endearing if not completely annoying.

“I heard someone laughing while I was on my way home. I had no idea I’d find you out here. I was intrigued, what can I say?” What can you say? Nothing. So, you don’t. You toe the dirt for a moment and begin pumping your arms and legs in earnest. Let him see your laughter. What harm could it do?

Eyes are on you as you reach the sky. Your hair whips from in front of your face to back behind your head. The laughter comes, the boy still watching and kicking the dirt. And then he says, “Wanna hear a joke?” And how could you not? You let out a loud, “Yeah” on your down swing.

“What do you do when your wife starts smoking?”

“What do you do?” You ask with genuine curiosity.

“Use some lube.”

You snort a laugh at the ridiculous joke. You drag your feet, a giggle still in your mouth. And you look at Eddie. God, he’s so beautiful it takes your breath away.

“That was an awful joke. Tell me another.” Now he’s swinging while you watch him. His legs are too long to kick back fully and get any real height, but he’s still going for it. He’s letting out a “Hmmmm” in thought while he thinks of another joke. You aren’t fooled, you know this guy has a whole arsenal in that brain of his.

“What do you call someone who refuses to fart in public?” He hasn’t even gotten to the punch line, and you're giddy enough to giggle already.

“What?” He stops hard, feet planted in the dirt to deliver his punch line.

“A private tutor.”

You can’t help it, you’re laughing like a flirtatious teenager, “You idiot.” You go to swat his arm, and he’s fast. He grabs it before it hits its mark. His fingers interlace with your own, and he lets your arms drop between you. Holding hands, arms formed in a V at this little school playground. It’s so tender you could puke.

“I’m sorry.” A long finger is rubbing along your knuckles while you listen to his soft voice, “I’m such an asshole. To be fair, that usually works for me.” His eyebrows are cocked at you, and his small smile is barely visible in the moonlight. He seems small and sweet in this moment, and you feel warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of him.

“Yeah, well, I was just about ready to hate fuck the attitude out of you.” He drops your hand and dramatically grabs his chest.

“Hold on, let me just get in the right mind frame.” He stands up and shakes his arms at his side to limber up and clears his throat. His long arms grab the metal chain of your swing, and he leans into your space. A low seductive voice reverberates through his chest as he says, “Baby, your boobs remind me of Mt. Rushmore. My face should be among them.”

Your laughter is a release of tension. You’re in hysterics. It’s the only thing to describe your reaction to this fucking nerd putting on this ridiculous show. There are tears in the corner of your eyes until you catch sight of Eddie’s face. He’s watching you, the moonlight creating a halo around his stupid head with a wide smile that beams with pride.

“I would do anything to hear that laugh.” When you let out a groan of protest, his hand waves it away, “I’m serious. It’s what drew me back here. You have the sweetest laugh I’ve ever heard.”

You grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him down to your eye level. Right as your noses brushes against his and you’re angling your mouth towards him he whispers, “I’d love to hear what other pretty noises you make.”

Hand flattened, you give him a shove. “You’re such an asshole, Eddie.”

“Oh, come on, I was joking.” You’re up and heading back to your building, annoyed with yourself more than him. “Please stop. I’m sorry.” Wheeling around to face him, he stops abruptly with his hands raised in surrender. You have your hands propped against your hips. You bend down and unlace your boots and toe them off. You’ve lost a couple of inches, but Eddie still seems completely intimidated. He inches his way towards you, as if approaching a rabid dog, and he reaches down to pick up your discarded boots to carry for you.

“Let me walk you home, hmm? Are you hungry? I picked up some perch at the fish market yesterday.”

“I’m sorry, are you offering to make me dinner at,” you look at your watch and scoff, “1:30 in the morning?”

“Uh, yeah. To be fair, I was planning to make myself dinner anyway, but why not. It’s obvious neither of us is getting laid tonight.” Too true. Neither of you were getting laid, which made you wonder…

“Why aren’t you getting laid tonight? You been in a dry spell lately? I saw plenty of pretty bimbos making googly eyes at you earlier.”

“Yeah, true.” He sighs dramatically, “I think I’ve had my fill of bimbos for a while, ya know? Plus, I think I was getting a slutty reputation around the building.”

“Pffffttt, come on.”

“I’m serious, I was more than a little embarrassed to have the hottest chick I’ve ever seen call me an asshole and a slut to my face.” Well, you are a slut. “And I know what you’re thinking, you were just calling it like you saw it, but is it a crime to have a good time, Sweetheart? I didn’t know everyone in the apartment building could hear me.”

There’s a tinge of something, guilt, in the back of your mind. You never told him about the vent. The vent that certainly can’t be legal. The vent that creates a direct opening between your rooms. Yeah, he’s a loud ass, but you probably wouldn’t hear most of what he’s doing in the privacy of his own room if it wasn’t for that fucking vent.

“Not everyone in the building.” You admit, sheepishly. A pause, a gentle hand on your shoulder, an eyebrow raised in question. “So, there’s this vent I discovered. It’s basically just wide-open space between our rooms.”

His eyes are moving side to side as if he’s trying to understand, trying to see it in his mind. “A vent? Why is there a ductwork that goes from one room to another room like that?” And you think for a moment you might get away with your bad behavior, because maybe he’ll focus on the design flaw instead of the fact that you blamed him for something out of his control.

“Wait. Are you telling me that you’ve been ragingly pissed off at me for something that isn’t my fault?” You wave your hand a little bit. Because, yeah, that’s pretty much true.

“Sort of. I mean, you’re still a cocky asshole that doesn’t consider his neighbors when he’s got his dick up.” His arms go up in frustration. “No, you’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have decided to be mean right off the bat.”

Eddie’s still gripping your boots while your feet are walking on the freezing cold sidewalk with nothing but pantyhose between you and the night. The chill is finally starting to get to you, the booze having worn off completely. Your building isn’t too far, about a block away, and your teeth start to chatter a bit. You’re trying to hide it, not wanting to seem too vulnerable, too weak in this moment, but he’s observant. He swings off his leather jacket, leaving himself in just his cropped t-shirt, and wraps it around your shoulders. It smells like cigarettes, worn leather, and Old Spice. You could scream at how comforting it all is. How safe and cared for you feel. Instead, you try to satisfy your curiosity.

“So, tell me, Eddie, what do you do for a living?” You ask, hating the way the question sounds coming out of your mouth. Boring chit chat that doesn’t fit the already too intimate understanding the two of you have with each other.

“Besides playing metal for free booze at the downtown bars? Take a guess.” Oof, if you had to guess, you’d have no idea. Tattoo artist? That’s plausible. Cook? Could be. Mechanic, plumber, electrician? How annoying to not know and how annoying to have him play coy about it.

“Oh, I don’t know. Can’t you just fucking tell me?” His head is thrown back in a laugh. He really enjoys needling you. He likes pissing you off, at least just a little.

“God, you’re so impatient. If you must know, I work with kids. Believe it or not, I’m a counselor for at-risk youth.” You can’t hide the shock on your face. There is no way you would have ever been able to guess that this guy worked with kids. Is a counselor. You’ve done work for family attorneys in the past, and you know what some of these kids go through. You imagine him holding the hands of kids going through the horrors of life. A lump begins to form at the base of your throat.

“Are you joking?” You practically choke out the words. It’s a rude question and you have no excuse for it other than the fact that it’s exactly what crosses your mind.

“Not joking. I had a rough time when I was younger. I barely got out of high school alive. Steve started going to a community college back home, and I decided to go for it with him. I spent 6 years getting a 4-year degree while flipping burgers.”

Your mind is so blown you can’t do anything but stutter, “You’re a fucking saint? That’s actually kind of annoying.” You nudge Eddie with your shoulder affectionately. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I do for a living?” He nudges you back, affectionately.

“I know what you do. Mary told me. You’re an assistant for a lawyer with the aspiration to go to law school. And, you’re very likely going to do it and be a huge success because you’re a genius and you work harder than anyone she’s ever met.” Bless Mary, what a sweetheart. You can see her saying this to him, verbatim. She’s your biggest cheerleader. “It’s why I haven’t been having any overnight guests. You seriously had me feeling like the biggest dick in the world, you know.”

Ascending your steps to the front door of your building, you stop and look at Eddie. He’s a step below you, and still taller than eye level. “Why did you come on so strong with me? Why not just” you’re flapping your hand around looking for the right thing to say, “be normal with me?”

“I’m naturally flirtatious.” A roll of the eyes has him breathing through his nose, “Fine. you’re hot when you’re angry. Like, it’s insane. And, you know, most people find me charming.”

Yes. You could see it. He is charming. And sweet. Jeannie is right, he’s not a bad guy, he’s a really good guy, in fact. You reach your hand out to touch his curls, you’ve been thinking about how soft they would feel between your fingers since the first time saw him. Yes, they are soft. Oh, his hand is cupping your cheek, and you’re leaning your head into it. His skin is so warm despite the cold.

“God, you’re so beautiful, I could cry.” The words are out before you can stop them, and maybe you don’t want to. Maybe he needs to know what is true about him in your eyes. That he is beautiful, and that you want him, even more now that he’s let you see who he really is.

He releases a slow exhale at your words, and you can see a flush creeping up his neck. You are charmed. Before a protest can be made, you let your mouth meet his. You let yourself taste him, breathe him in. And he is sweet. A light kiss, and his breath is fanning over your face.

He pulls back to look into your eyes and says, “I think you might have something in your eyes.” You furrow your brows a little while he inspects them, “No, sorry, just a sparkle.” He’s breathing out a laugh at his own terrible pick up line, and you hate him.

“I hate you.” You say the words without conviction, and this time, his mouth meets your own with a firm kiss. A tongue snaking across your bottom lip in a plea for entry, and you grant it. This is bliss. His arms are holding you at your hips while yours find his neck. Like teenagers at your parents’ doorstep not wanting the night to end. This goes on until he feels you trembling and remembers that you could be doing this inside. Where there’s heat and comfort.

“Wouldst thou allow me the honor of walking thee to thine door this fine evening, M’lady?” He asks, and you realize that this guy that has fucked every woman in the tri-state area is an actual nerd. A goofy bastard.

“Thank you, kind sir. I hate to be out on these streets alone.” You bat your eyelashes and he lets out a little groan of pain. You relish in that groan, an indication that you have the upperhand with this man. You do have him wrapped around your little finger. Not only could you make him putty in your hands, you are doing it by just existing within his space.

As you head to the stairs, you feel Eddie’s warm fingers tangling themselves with your own, and that feeling of being a kid hits you again. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of zinging tingle from such a simple gesture. Will he be careful with me? A bit of doubt begins to prickle at the back of your mind.

“So.” You’re standing with your back against your door, head tilted up to Eddie while he’s leaning his arm above you and bending into your space. “Did you want to come in, or…” Lips are on you. His soft mouth, so warm and inviting, and your tongues are dancing. It is divine. It is perfection. Until. Until. Until. “Wait.”

When your eyes focus on his face, there is concern. Not anger at being told to wait. Not frustration at your hand holding him away from you. Just brows knit together in distress for you.

“Are you ok, Sweetheart. I’m sorry if I did something wrong.” His knuckles brush against your cheek, and then he takes a small step back to allow you a little distance.

“No, Eddie, you’ve done nothing wrong.” You’ve turned around at this point, and you’re fumbling for your keys. They rattle as they hit the linoleum at your feet. Curses are being muttered under your breath while you try to recover.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Eddie’s big brown eyes are still so full of concern, you could cry. You want nothing more than to bring him into your home, into your bed, and just let go. It would be one thing if there weren’t these feelings brewing inside of you. It wasn’t what you planned. No, you want his mouth all over you, a tender embrace. The last time you had those things, you got burned. You’ve learned about playing with fire, and you just don’t do it anymore.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” You let out a little shocked noise at your stupid self, “you really are beautiful and sexy. And you’re a good person to boot.” Your head is shaking at him, because these are not things you’ve been looking for.

“Um, thanks? Why is that bad?” His tenderness is too much for you, and you feel yourself wanting to give in. His hand is gently brushing your hair away from your face, and he’s tilting his head to try to see you better.

“Because, I like you, and that’s not something I can deal with. I’m not looking to feel anything other than mutual physical satisfaction. With anyone.” You throw your hand out to emphasize your point. Nope. Not looking for a boyfriend. And that’s what this motherfucker is, he’s a goddamn boyfriend if you’ve ever seen one.

“Uh, well, I say that’s too fucking bad, Sweetheart. The feelings are mutual, and if you don’t want to hang out with me because we’re super compatible, that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.” The smile he’s wearing barely masks his frustration. He’s looking like the cocky shit you first met. Arms spread open to present himself to you. “Fucking fine, I’ll leave you alone. Give me my jacket back.”

You shrug it off and hand it over, already missing the warmth. You feel so small right now, and so angry at yourself. He’s right, it is stupid. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I don’t think I could fuck you and have it be just casual. I can’t have you living above me, hearing you and whoever else. It would be one thing if we didn’t live in the same building, but I’d rather not even go there right now. There’s no way this wouldn’t end up being a complete shit show.”

He spins on his heel and takes the stairs two at a time, leaving you standing alone under the glow of the fluorescent lights that illuminate the hall. When you finally enter the apartment, tears are stinging at the corners of your eyes. What is your fucking problem? You don’t even notice that Mary and Steve are sitting on the couch watching a movie.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mary is scrambling out of the embrace she was sharing with Steve. “I heard you shouting with, uh, someone in the hallway.”

“With Ed, it was definitely Ed.” Steve says nonchalantly, as if saying his name wouldn’t drive a dagger through your heart.

“Thanks for that, Steve.” Mary’s annoyed face is completely unconvincing. To be fair, how could anyone be annoyed with Steve? He’s so precious.

“I just,” You sigh and try to find something to say to get her to leave you alone, “I hung out with him a little bit tonight, and I can’t do this right now. It would be one thing if it was just sex, but he’s so fucking perfect.” Mary knows. She’ll support you. She knows how hard you took it the last time you tried to do the feeling thing with someone. She will hug you and tell you that you’re doing the right thing.

She is staring at you with incredulity. Flabbergasted. Bemused. Dumbfounded. Absolutely flummoxed. “You’re fucking stupid.”

Steve lets out a little laugh through his nose and clears his throat to cover the sound. You and Mary both shoot eye daggers in his direction and he just gives you both a little shrug. “You know, Eddie hasn’t stopped talking about how much he wants to get to know you. You have him so wound up, it’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, come on. I’ve done nothing but be a complete bitch to him.”

“Yeah, and Mary here has told him how amazing you are. He’s always like this. He loves when someone is willing to put him in his place.” Your head is spinning at the thought. Putting him in his place. “Plus, Mary told him that you want to be a lawyer and work with legal aid. He’s ready to go out and buy a ring.”

“Shut up, Steve, you’re freaking her out.” Mary turns back to you and grabs your hand. “Just answer this question for me, and I’ll leave you alone.” Her eyebrows are raised, and you nod in answer, “If you’re already hurting your own feelings by not allowing yourself the chance to spend time with Eddie, what’s the harm in seeing what might be there before you crush it?”

You roll your eyes and wave, “Good night, guys. Be safe.” You hate that everyone is right. Fuck this. You’re going to bed.

Emotionally exhausted, you find sleep easy to find. As you drift, through the sound of your fan blowing gently on your night stand, you hear something that is bringing you back into the waking world. It’s soft, so quiet. Is that? It’s music.

It’s a song you recognize, anyone would, but it’s so much more mournful than it should be. Soft and gentle strumming. Mary’s words are hounding you while you hear Eddie singing, through that fucking vent, I Want To Hold Your Hand. You’re so pissed off, there’s nothing you can do but throw your legs over the edge of your bed and stomp out of your room. Down the hall. To the living room where Steve and Mary are sleeping. Out your apartment door. Up the stairs. All while still in your tiny sleep shorts and tank top, the breeze of the front door to the building leaving your skin covered in goose flesh.

*knock, knock, knock* Come on, I know you’re awake. A little louder *knock, knock, knock*, and you hear him grumbling behind the door. “You’ve got to stop forgetting your keys man, it’s like 3 in the morning. The door swings open, and he sees you.

“Hi.” His eyes widen, “Oh shit, I’m sorry. Was I too loud?” Yes. Too loud. Too pretty. Too kind. Too sexy. Too everything.

You push your way past him and into his apartment, back into his bedroom. He’s following you, still confused, huffing at you. Until you stop to face him outside of his bedroom door. A finger firmly pointed at his chest.

“One of two things needs to happen tomorrow.” He’s looking from your finger to your face, trying to understand what’s going on, “Either we get the landlord down here to fix this vent issue, or you and Steve switch rooms.”

“Uh, ok. Yeah, that’s fine.” Your finger moves up to the fringe of his hair, letting it dance along his forehead. “Sweetheart, do you have something else in mind to talk about?” You shake your head at him, eyes still focused on his, absolutely mesmerized by him.

“I want you, Eddie, if you’ll have me. Even if it’s just for tonight. How does that sound to you?” Eddie’s lip curls up and throws his arms around your waist to lift you off the ground in a bear hug. Your fist pound his chest in protest while giggles are erupting out of you. Without putting you down, he kicks his door open and walks you over to his bed.

“Oh, Sweetheart, this is gonna be so fun.” Your mouths are mingling gently, with need and passion, but so sweetly. His big hands grip your torso and toss you onto his messy bed. He’s climbing over you while you crook your finger to draw him closer to you. Close enough for you to-

“Jesus, woman.” -wrap your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back. You wiggle your finger at him in a “no-no” gesture when he tries to push himself back up.

“Let me make you feel good, Baby. You’re so pretty, I just wanna play for a while.” A pathetic whine leaves his mouth at your words. You know these are probably words he’s used on countless women over the years. You mean it, too. You want to open him up and see his heart beating in his chest. You want to see his lungs expand and expel his breath. You want to explore the expanse of his chest with the tip of your nose. Your tongue. You want to see the freckles that are hidden from his own gaze and take the time to appreciate each of them.

“Let’s come to an agreement, Baby. If you tell me no, ask me to stop, or in any way sound like you’re anything more than enthusiastic about what I’m doing, I’ll stop. Ok?” Eddie nods enthusiatically. “The only other thing I’m going to ask is that you don’t touch me until I tell you it’s ok. You can ask if you really need it.” He’s nodding again, and you give a curt head shake, “Tell me if this is ok, please.” You’re sitting with your legs slung over his chest, and a hand cupping his cheek. You need to see what his face and words are telling you.

“Yes, please.” He’s nodding, and then a little wolfish grin crosses his pretty lips. “That all sounds good for now. We can talk about a switch up for the next time.” You scoff in answer, but you can’t deny the throb you feel at his words. Maybe you could see yourself relinquishing some control with him.

No more words for now, Eddie is on his best behavior as he watches you with keen, shining eyes. You waste no time and peel his shirt off, showing you that chest you wanted to mark up. Before even touching him with your hands, you lick a stripe from the line of hair below his belly button, up his stomach, over his chest, and to his neck where you begin sucking behind his ear. His responding groan is music to your ears.

Before long he’s laid out for you, completely nude, hard as a rock and moaning while you tease him with gentle strokes and words of praise. He is so good for you, so beautiful with the purpling marks on his chest and thighs. And quiet, he’s being so quiet for you.

“Baby, you’re such a good boy for me. Tell me what you want me to do.” You give his slit a little kitten li k and his eyes roll back but his hands are still firmly planted and gripping the sheets below him. “Wanna see how far I can get your cock in my throat? It’s pretty big, Baby, I don’t know if I can handle it.” You’re pouting at him, giving him your sweet big eyes, batting your lashes at him.

His response is high pitched, sounding almost painful, “Sweetheart, I want you to suck my cock, but god, can I touch you, please.” Aw, it’s only been 30 minutes.

“Oh, Baby, I was just getting started.” Your hand moves down his shaft to the soft sac at the base of his cock. As he’s watching you, you take two of your fingers into your mouth and let your saliva coat them. His own mouth is moving in sync with your own, tasting the ghost of your fingers. You bring your hand down to the spot below his sac where it’s so sensitive and press firmly. His cock jumps and arousal leaks down to the thatch of hair at the base.

“Oh my god, I need to touch you. Please, please, please, let me touch you.” His whining cry, and the tear gliding down his cheek have you feeling weak.

You work your shorts off, finally exposing yourself to him. His hands are still pinned to the bed while you hover your sticky center over him. You sit on his stomach and rock yourself, not quite touching the head of his cock with your ass. His head is thrown back in concentration when you finally tell him, “You can touch me, Baby.”

His eyes shoot open, and his hands find your hips. Without a word, he has you on your back. “You gonna let me make you feel good, Sweetheart?” He’s wild, he looks like he wants to devour you, and you’re ready to let him do anything in this moment.

“Please, Eddie, anything you want.” His eyes are still wet from the edging. You’re running your finger along the purple marks you left on his chest, and he’s gone. You feel him ripping your shirt over your head and he’s throwing it out into the room.

He’s not gentle, and you’re not surprised. He’s not used to being teased like this. Your legs are spread wide, and his big hands pull you down into his waiting face. Immediately, he gets to work, he’s laid flat against the bed, his erection finally getting some friction while his tongue gets to taste you. It’s broad stripes along your slit with tiny kitten licks when he reaches your nub. Over and over and over. The movements are calculated. You’re watching him and he’s watching you. It’s when you start to rock your hips up to meet his mouth that he latches on to your clit with ferocity.

*bang* you’re writhing in pleasure. The feel of his mouth has you shaking uncontrollably, your moans get higher and higher until every muscle in your body is tense and you feel your center releasing. Eddie is practically growling as he laps up your arousal until your hands thread through his hair and you’re pulling him up to you.

“I need you inside me. I need it, Baby. Please.” Eddie is calming you down with a gentle shushing. His hands have found your face, and he kisses away the tears you didn’t know you had shed.

“I’m here, Sweetheart.” Kissing him now, with your taste on his tongue, you want it to last forever. You wrap your legs around his waist, hooking your ankles around him, pleading with your eyes. He leaves a kiss on your temple as he reaches for the small box on the nightstand. You watch, your body still boneless as he glides the condom down his length. You can’t remember the last time you had a man in this position. His body flush with your own, covering you, his face in your neck. Every inch of him makes your body hitch in excitement until you are completely full. You and Eddie are both open mouthed, and making silent noises until he moves. You’re meeting every thrust with your hips.

Moving in tandem, hard and fast, you know it won’t be long. Every thrust is hitting your most sensitive spot inside, while the hair at the base of his shaft tickles your clit. His breath on your neck, the whimpers and moans in your ear. It all feels so unbelievably good. You’re wound tightly again, already, sweat is collecting between your breasts that are pushed against Eddie’s chest.

“Oh, Baby, you’re fucking me so good. I’m gonna cum.” His reaction is to speed up even more, pounding you brainless. Only static and pleasure. That’s all that’s left of you as he uses you.

“Fucking cum with me.” The orgasm rips through you, and you’re screaming. If you had a brain to think with, you’d realize that if you were in your own room the sounds would be louder than any you’ve heard before. You can feel his thrust turning into a gentle rocking as he empties himself. And then, you’re both still, breathing into each other’s necks.

You lay together for a while, until you start to feel like you’re being suffocated. “Eddie, get off of me.” You reach down and give his ass a little slap. You think he might have drifted off to sleep while still inside of you.

He rolls over with a deep groan. You know you’ve worn him out, he looks exhausted. “Oh, Baby, I’ll be right back.”

You head to the bathroom and wash yourself. You count it as lucky that your apartments are identical, and guess that you could find some washcloths in the linen closet. When you reenter Eddie’s room, he hasn’t moved an inch. You remove the condom and clean him off while he makes little noises. You find his boxers and guide them up over his slender hips. After you find your own underwear, you climb into bed and cozy up into his chest.

“Sweetheart?” His voice is full of sleep and barely whispered. You hum back to him. “Can I keep you? Will you be mine?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

tagging: @missmarch-99 @powderblueblood @thornsnvultures @corrodedcorpses @munsonburn3r

@definitionwanderlust @mopeymopeymouse

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff

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oneforthemunny · 9 months ago

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yayo (remastered) |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: when your younger sister calls you to pick her and her friend up, it leads you to meeting her friend's dad.

this is the first chapter of the older!eddie remaster! title stays the same, i'm just revamping it :) you can read the original series here!

contains: age gap (eddie is early forties, reader is late twenties early thirties, all consensual), language, teenage stupidity of younger siblings (and their friends) lol, slightly mean eddie but not really.

word count: 3.5k+

“Hello?” A groggy, croak of an answer fell from your lip. Eyelids pulled together, weights of sleep held them closed, pressing the cool screen of your phone to your ear.

There was a pause, nearly timid in response. “Hey.” The familiar tone ridded whatever sleepiness you still felt, kickstarted every instinct of panic, flooding through your veins, right down to your core.

“It’s me.” You pulled the phone away to check anyways, Madeline’s name flashing across the screen, still decorated with a flurry of bright, smiley emojis from when she added them years ago.

“What’s wrong?” Call it older sister instinct, maybe dread, but you knew by the tightness in her tone something was wrong.

“Will you do me a favor?” Madeline sucked in a breath from the other line. “A big favor, like a huge one. Please, I’ll owe you one back forever, and-”

“-What do you need?” You muttered, too groggy to be fully annoyed, legs swinging out of the warmth of your covers to the frigid wood of the apartment’s floor. Using the soft, purple glow of Roku Village on the TV, you stumbled around towards the light switch. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I am. Well, I mean- like physically, I’m fine.” Madeline paused, hesitation filling the line. “Look, you can’t tell Mom or Dad. Do you swear?”

“What did you do?” There was the irritation, falling with a huff of pure annoyance, one only a younger sibling could bring- affection and annoyance, blended together and pouring from your tongue.

“No, you gotta swear. Swear on your life you won’t tell.” Madeline’s voice was fiercer now, that hushed tone that you were too familiar with.

“Ok, I swear. What do you need? Why the hell are you calling me at,” You pulled your phone back, blearily blinking to clear the clouded sleep in your vision. “Christ, at two in the morning?-”

“-Don’t start.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “C-Can you come get me and my friend?”

“From where?” You frowned, stopping in the middle of the room.

“We’re in Chestnut Square, you know the neighborhood that the Henson’s live in? It’s, like, two streets over. I can drop you a pin.” Madeline danced around the request.

“Why are you there?” You knew. Of course you knew. It wasn’t all that long ago you were in Chestnut Square or near the Quarry by Lover’s Lake, sipping on wine coolers and shitty beers that someone got from the gas station by the high school that never carded.

“Why do you think I’m here?” Madeline clipped in annoyance, a huff of staticed annoyance falling from the other line. “I’m at a party-”

“-On a Wednesday?” You scoffed. “You couldn’t even wait until Friday or Saturday like a normal delinquent? On a weekday, Madeline, seriously-”

“-Look, can you come pick me up or not?” Madeline snapped, and you could practically see her eyes roll through the phone. “I didn’t drive. Brielle and I got picked up and the guy who brought us, he’s… he’s not doing great right now, and we just need to get home. Can you please come pick us up?”

The streets were a ghost town as you cruised towards the neighborhood, opposite from your downtown apartment. You had work tomorrow, an early shift. Madeline couldn’t have done this yesterday on your off day, or even Friday when you closed. Your jaw set at the thought, a burst of sleep deprived, inconveniencing annoyance bursting in your chest, burning with bother.

Still, Madeline was your baby sister, difficult as she was, you were glad she called you.

You followed the automated voice towards the end of the neighborhood, the house bright with lights and lined with cars. Madeline was on the curb, arm wrapped tightly around the girl beside her, steadying her sway.

“Hey,” Madeline muttered, pulling the door open. “Thank you so much. Seriously, you’re the best.”

“The best.” Brielle slid in before Madeline. Well, slid was generous, more like fell into your back seat.

Brielle Munson had been Madeline’s best friend for years. A staple in her childhood, and therefore a figure in your own life. Countless sleepovers, birthday parties, you’d even carpooled them to school your senior year when they started middle school.

As well as you knew her, you never took her as the black out on a Wednesday type, but your mother had often made passing, hushed tone comments about Brielle’s own mother. “She’s a little different. Kinda a wild card.” Your mother muttered to you one day, brows raising in a pointed look. You didn’t know much about Brielle’s family, never met them. Brielle always came over to your family’s house- you figured that was why.

“Is she good?” You muttered, pulling the rearview mirror down, angling it towards Brielle. Her head pressed in slopped defeat against the cool window, forehead rolling over the cold glass.

Madeline turned. “Brie, you good?”

“‘M good, ‘m good. Are we gonna get Cook Out?” Brielle slurred, cheek pressed to the window.

You huffed, another thing to add to the mental list of Madeline’s inconveniences- cleaning your windows of the foundation Brielle left behind tomorrow.

“Is she gonna puke?” You huffed, shoving the gear into place, rolling away from the front of the house.

“No, she’s not gonna puke-”

“-Madeline, if she fuckin’ pukes, I swear to God, you will be cleaning it tonight.” You sneer, eyes flickering towards the rearview to see Brielle. “I can’t handle puke, I will not handle puke-”

“-She won’t puke.” Madeline huffed, arms crossing over her chest in annoyance. “Brie, don’t puke.”

“I won’t.” Brielle muttered, slouching down the window.

“She’s almost asleep. She’s good.” Madeline shook her head. “We gotta take Brielle home first. Take a right up here.” She pointed out the window.

“Great, I’m the fucking Uber tonight, too? Madeline, I have to work in the morning-”

“-It’s literally two minutes away.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “She’s at her dad’s tonight. It won’t take that long. I just have to get her back in her room- shit.” Madeline turned in her seat, tapping Brielle’s knee. “Brie, you gotta wake up, ok? You have to get back to your room.”

“Nice.” You threw your hands up, irritation bubbling to a raging boil in your chest. “You’ve got to sneak her back in? How are you gonna do that?”

“She snuck out through her window, chill.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “Turn right at the light.”

“So, you’re going to do what? Shove her back in? I’m not helping you. I said I’d come pick you up, and that’s it-”

“-Did I ask you to help? No.” Madeline snarled. “Brielle, wake up, seriously.”

“I’m literally awake.” Brielle groaned, though her eyes stayed shut.

“Where am I going?” You threw a hand out lightly.

“Keep going straight.” Madeline muttered, body still twisted towards the back. “Brie, do you have your phone?”

“I think so.” Brielle muttered, lazily patting herself before turning towards the seat. “Oh, ‘s right here.”

“Turn left into this neighborhood. Then at the stop sign take a right, her house is on the corner.” Madeline turned back towards you.

You flicked the turn signal on with dramatic irritation, gliding into the neighborhood to the small house on the corner of the street, the edge of the cul de sac. Bloomington Lane, the street sign stood proudly above the stop sign at the edge of the road.

“Cut your lights.” Madeline muttered, climbing over the center console towards the back of the car. You felt like you were in high school again, flooding of your own memories, sneaking your friends back inside, coming through the unlocked window in the guest room. Watching Madeline help Brielle, crouched over her trying to get her sober enough to walk, it felt like a lifetime and yesterday all at once.

Your reminiscent memories were cut short when the porch light flicked on, a blinding cast of warm light cutting through the calm, dark of the street.

“Shit,” Madeline hissed, wide eyed and caught, looking out the window. “Shit, shit, shit, Brie, you gotta get up. You gotta get up for real, your dad is here, Brie.”

“No, he’s asleep.” Brielle muttered, head lolling back against the seat drunkenly.

“Madeline.” You hissed, eyes cutting towards the porch, a silhouette of a man stalking furiously towards you. You weren’t sure if you should look, turn away, drive away, a sweaty, knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

“Fuck, that’s Brielle’s dad.” Madeline whispered.

“Madeline,” You growled through gritted teeth. “What the fuck-” You jumped, bare knuckles rapping furiously on your window. Through the glare of the radio on your window, you could see him on the other side.

“Hi,” You squeaked, rolling down the window. “Sorry, I-I’m just-”

“-Who the fuck are you?” His voice boomed, sharp and cutting as the look on his face. You flinched under the tone.

“I-I,-”

“-Hi, Mr. Munson.” Madeline peeked timidly around your seat. His dark eyes flicked towards her, still narrowed in intimidating challenge. “We’re just, we’re bringing Brielle home.” Madeline’s voice shook, though she tried to swallow it, steady it. “This is my sister.”

You waved, tongue too thick and swollen to say anything. Now you really felt like you were in high school again, scared shitless, caught like a deer in blinding headlights by a furious parent.

“She came and got Brielle and I.” Madeline didn’t offer any more explanation, instead nodding towards Brielle.

“The fuck is wrong with her?” The spitting venom in his tone made you jump.

“She-She just had too much to drink.” You stammered, hands still gripping the wheel.

He tore open the backseat door, Madeline holding Brielle to keep her from falling limply out onto the concrete. “What is wrong with her? Did someone drug her?” He snapped, holding Brielle carefully.

“No, no, n-no, I was there with her all night. We brought our own-” Madeline cringed at the glare Mr. Munson gave her. You cringed for her. “She didn’t get drugged. I-I made sure. I watched her, she just… she had too much to drink, Mr. Munson, I’m so sorry.”

“Where’d you get it from?” He sneered, pulling his daughter out of the car with a gritted grunt. “You buy it for them?” His eyes were back on you, so harsh it had you jumping.

“No.” You and Madeline squeaked in unison.

“I just came and-and got them-”

“-I called her to make sure she’d get us home safe.” Madeline added, head bobbing furiously in a nervous nod.

“Yeah.” You looked at Madeline, then back at the fuming man. Brielle sliding in his arms, limp in his hold. “Here, I-I can help you get her in-”

“-No.” He sneered, pulling Brielle up, ignoring her muttered huffs of protest. “I don’t need your help. You’ve done enough tonight.” You felt small under his glare, biting tone that had you shrinking into your seat.

“I-I’m really sorry.” You muttered nervously, heart drumming with adrenaline, with fear. You didn’t know why you were apologizing, if anything, you’d made the one smart decision of the night. You thought Mr. Munson might appreciate that you’d gone to bring his daughter home safe.

The narrowed eye glare he tossed you before he was dragging Brielle towards the house, told you he did not appreciate your vigilant efforts. Your face drained, a flush of heat and icy fear sinking in the pit of your stomach. He slammed the door so hard, you were surprised the glass swinging door didn’t shatter to pieces right there on the porch.

You turned to Madeline, fists still clenched around the steering wheel. “You owe me. You owe me so much more now, like forever. For the rest of your life.” You sneered, shoving the gear shift into drive, peeling off the curb. You couldn’t get away from Bloomington Lane fast enough.

“You alright?” Lydia’s brows furrow at your third- fourth yawn of the shift. A shift that had just begun, your teeth ground tight in annoyance.

“Yeah.” You nodded, snapping the receipt cover down. “Is there any way I could get off register? I’m just super tired. My brain’s not really wanting to work this morning.”

“Yeah, for sure. You sure you’re alright?” Lydia’s head tilted to the side, snapping the plastic lid to the latte expertly. You and Lydia Allcott had practically grown up together, been in school since Kindergarten. It was lucky, you guessed, that she was your manager. Perks of a small town like Hawkins.

“Yeah, I’m just exhausted. I was up all night because Madeline is a moron. Snuck out and I had to drive her and her friend home, and then her friend’s dad was waiting outside when she got home- it’s just been a night, honestly.” You rubbed the base of your neck, working out a knot that was already beginning to form from your restless night.

Lydia sucked in a breath. “Oh,” She shook her head. “I forget you have a younger sister.”

You snort lightly, pouring the steaming dark roast into the cup. “Yeah, me too. Until she does something stupid like that.”

Lydia smirked, sliding the drink down the bar. “Brooke just got here. Tell her to hop on register, and you can go clean the tables.”

You had never been so happy to be carrying the soapy, black bucket out on the floor, sudsy rag dragging slowly across the empty tables. It was slow for a Thursday, the morning school and work rush dwindled down to a ghost town. Not that you were complaining.

The bell trilled over the door behind you, Brooke’s cheery, fake greeting echoing through the store. You didn’t turn, pushing the rag over the table, dunking it back in the bucket, wringing it out, and repeating. A rhythmic task that had your mind numbed, zoned in brainlessly from table to table.

“Hi.” You jumped slightly, soapy water spilling over the lip of the bucket onto the table.

Your posture straightened, turning with the expectancy of a customer wanting some specific table cleaned that you hadn’t yet got to. Instead, you were met with a familiar pair of dark eyes, not as furious as they’d been last night but burning even in the low light of the cafe.

“Hi.” You squeaked, gripping the rag in your hand, the water dripping between your fingers. “Um, wha-what can I help you with, Mr. Munson?” Fuck, he’d come back to scream some more. And at your work? How did he even know? You didn’t even have it on Facebook.

You were shocked when his lips twitched, a faint pull of smirk on his lips. “I don’t mean to bother you.” He started, hand wrapped around the small cup in his hand. “I’m not here to- I’m here to apologize.”

You couldn’t speak, tongue stupidly thick in your mouth again. Instead you nodded, a soft bob of your head. “And I wanted to thank you for bringing Brielle home last night. For making sure she got home alright. She could have…” He shook his head, looking over at the window.

“She could have done something stupid, and I’m glad you were there so she didn’t.” Your heart leapt when his eyes met yours again, a pounding in your ears that rang through your whole body.

“I-It’s really no problem.” You stuttered, voice wavering on embarrassingly unsure.

“No, it means a lot, and I was a complete ass to you last night, and I’m here to say I’m sorry for that.” Your eyes lingered over the patch on his coveralls, a cursive, embroidered ‘Eddie’ over the faded blue patch.

“I shouldn’t’ve been such a dick, but you go to say goodnight to your kid, and there’s a pile of pillows instead, and- I know you don’t get it. You’re too young.” He motioned at you casually. Your cheeks burned, looking down at your bucket, hand still stupidly gripping the rag under the water.

“But y’know, if you have kids of your own, you’ll get it.” Eddie continued, his own ramblings a little rushed. Was he nervous?

“Yeah- I mean, i-it really was no issue. I’m glad she got home safe.” You smiled softly at him.

A pause fell between the two of you, both of you shifting a little uncomfortably at it. “I hope this isn’t weird.” You looked at him. “Me coming here. I asked Brielle where you worked so I could apologize.”

“No, it’s- thank you. You didn’t need to apologize, I mean. I get why you were mad, I do.” You cringed inwardly at your own nervous rambling. “But, um, I appreciate it. You apologizing, I mean. I’m glad she got home safe.”

Eddie nodded, fingers curling around his drink. “Me too.” He nodded. “Glad she has Madeline too, to look after her. That they’re friends. I mean, Brie’s always been good at makin’ friends. She’s really talkative.” Your heart swelled lightly at the way he lit up when he talked about Brielle, boasting with pride and joy. It tugged on your own heart strings.

“Yeah, Madeline is too. She loves Brie, though. Brielle sees her more than me.” You giggled lightly.

Eddie snorted softly, lips curling in a grin. “Yeah, you too? Thought it was just me.” He shook his head, curls bouncing lightly. You tried not to stare. “Makes me feel a little better, then. At least I know it’s not all me.”

You weren’t sure what to say, offering a nervous smile and soft giggle, adjusting the bucket on your hip. That familiar pause of silence flooded back between the two of you, not as uncomfortable as before but still hinting at discomfort.

“So, I wanted to say thank you, and sorry for being such an asshole.” Eddie nodded, foot tapping lightly against the floor. “But, uh, I’d really like to make it up to you.” Your eyes lifted, snapping towards his own gaze carefully.

“I'd like to treat you to dinner if you're free. Just to show my appreciation for keeping my girl safe.” Eddie started, eyes watching yours carefully.

Your heart hammered, breath caught- strangled in your throat. “Oh,” You managed to squeak out. “That would be f-fine.” Your head was still spinning before you could register what you were even saying.

Saying yes to Brielle’s dad? Her father, much older than you, certainly than the type of man you usually let take you to dinner. Still, he wasn’t unattractive. Coverall sleeves rolled enough to see his inked arms, chest broad under the thick material. He didn’t look old, not shriveled and gross. He was nice to look at, even. You certainly didn’t mind looking at him.

“I-I have to close tomorrow, but I’m free Saturday night.” Your heart jumped, shocked at your own boldness. Eddie’s brows lifted slightly, lips curling on the edge of a grin. “If you’re available, of course. Sorry, I- when works best for you?”

“Saturday night is perfect.” Eddie’s voice was calm, a steady tone that had your rattled nerves soothing, at least to a low roar in your chest.

“Great.” You smiled, a little too eager, far less cool than you would have liked. Why were you so nervous? Maybe excited?

“Um, let me give you my phone number?” It sounded more like a question, setting the bucket on the table, wiping your wet, dripping hand on your black apron. You fished a pen out of the pocket, hoping Eddie couldn’t see the way your hands trembled lightly, buzzing with giddy excitement.

“And you can just text me a-and let me know where to meet you.” You pulled a napkin out of the dispenser, chin dunking to write your digits on the thin paper.

“I’ll pick you up.” Eddie nodded. Your gaze lifted to him, the finality in his tone, firm but oddly not pushy? It was foreign to you, sent bolts of exhilaration trickling through your spine.

You started to protest, lips pulling in a slight frown. Eddie shook his head. “I’m old school, sweetheart. I’ll come and get you.” He smiled, eyes much warmer than you’d seen them, the hinting of dimples creasing underneath his stubble.

Your knees tensed, swallowing down a bubbling of nervous giggles, giving a wide smile instead. Your fingertips brushed when you handed him the napkin, a featherlight touch that had your body roaring with fever.

“I’ll see you Saturday.” Eddie smiled, so effortlessly cool it made your stomach flip-flop. “You don’t work too hard now, y’hear?” He teased, tossing you a wink that did pull out the nervous giggles you couldn’t swallow down this time.

"Bye." You waved, the rag in your hand flopping against your wrist, cringing when the droplets hit your face. Eddie waved back, tucking the napkin in his pocket before he disappeared out the double doors.

The drag in your feet was replaced with a springing pep in your step. Greeting customers with a cheery smile, much less dreadful than your usually forced one. Even the huffy soccer moms ordering with the usual demanding entitlement that would have you gritting your teeth. It didn’t bother you, chest light and airy with excitement, mind racing with giddy excitement about your date.

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someforeignband · 3 months ago

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🪱Wiggly Worm Wednesday!🪱

having thoughts about eddie and steve going to visit steve’s grandmother! (im spending the week with my nanna and am having thoughts)

It starts with this nebulous idea that Steve’s parents didn’t want to take care of Francesca’s mother after her husband died, so they moved Steve’s maternal grandmother to a 65+ community in Sun City, Arizona. Just like their son, they’d much rather ship off Franny’s mother instead of dealing with her needs. So, they leave sweet Cecilia in a massive 2,900 square foot condo in the Arizona desert, all by herself.

One afternoon in march, Steve gets a call from his Nonna. She explains she has had some plumbing issues and neither Franny, nor Richard is returning her calls. She complains that there’s palm fronds in her yard, and with the state of her back, she just can’t fix all of these things on her own.

“How do you feel about a trip to Arizona?” Steve would ask Eddie, after a two-and-a-half hour long conversation with his grandmother.

Thusly, a PanAm flight to Phoenix was booked. It was Eddie’s first time on a plane. Despite his nerves prior to getting on the flight, he has a marvelous time. Eddie discovers that he loves turbulence and puts his hands up and giggles the whole time.

Steve, to Eddie’s dismay, is the exact opposite. He squeezes the armrest the entire 3.5 hour flight. He can’t stand how relaxed Eddie is, not understanding how someone like Eddie could just be so calm.

Once they land, Steve tries to brief Eddie on his Nonna’s disposition. “She’s sort of a firecracker, Eddie. Very particular about pretty much everything. I’m sorry if she’s mean to you.”

Eddie tells him not to worry about it, assures him they’ll get through the weekend.

To Steve’s delight (and Eddie’s utter surprise), Nonna takes to Eddie like a fish to water. He can talk about the Bible with her. Wayne’s been pretty devout his whole life, so when Eddie makes a comment about her dish towel with Philippians 4:6-7 printed on it, Steve knows Eddie’s going to practically be family.

Cece is ecstatic to be able to show the boy pictures of Italia and tell him stories about her upbringing. She shows him pictures of Franny, pictures of her late husband, and her collection of photos of Steve’s baptism. It keeps Cece distracted, while Steve gets to work fixing her kitchen plumbing.

Steve can’t help but grin to himself like a madman as he tinkers with her pipes, listening to his Nonna and his boyfriend volley back and forth. Sharp as whips, the both of them, and god it was nice to watch Eddie get on with someone who was blood to him.

Steve didn’t have much family that bothered to be in his life.

It was nice.

And best of all— at least for Nonna— Eddie can eat her food. Eddie can seriously put it away. Steve stops after one helping of Parmigiana di Melanzane, but Eddie has two more servings, and saves room for dessert.

“Eat up, Edoardo,” Cece pats his cheek. “Too skinny, Stephano. You starving him?”

“Never, Nonna,” Steve laughs, shaking his head, watching Eddie shovel another spoonful into his mouth, grinning at Steve across the dining room table.

Despite the fact that they’ve been seeing each other for a few months, after dancing around each other for the better part of two years—Eddie’s feeling things about Steve fixing his grandmas plumbing, doing yard work, etc. The flush in Steve’s face, hands on his hips, complaining about the state of the yard: Eddie’s never felt more in love (and other tingly, warm sensations).

Further, Eddie watches Steve and Cece scream at each other in stilted Italian as she tries to pick up a scorpion and take it outside with her bare hands. Finally, after about forty-five seconds of screaming and the scorpion trying to wiggle away, Steve takes Eddie’s boot and smacks the thing with a scared squeal. It crunches under the sole and twitches a few times before dying on the salmon colored tile, guts splattered everywhere.

“You handled that well,” Eddie muses, once the whole ordeal is over, taking a dishcloth and floor cleaner, scrubbing at the thing’s guts.

“I couldn’t let her get stung. She’s seventy-nine!” Steve says, then shudders. “I never wanna do that again.”

Later that night, Eddie sips coffee out of a lumpy clay mug, a Stephano Original, while she and Steve play rummy. Catching eyes over the table, they smile at each other, knowingly. After a while, Eddie gets tired, slinking off to the office, where Cecilia had set him up with an air mattress.

Before Steve retires to the spare bedroom that night, his Nonna pulls him aside, wrapping him in a warm hug.

“Ti voglio,” She whispers, kissing his temple, smoothing his hair back.

“I love you too,” Steve answers quietly, thrown off by the unexpected display of affection.

“And,” She pauses, scrunching her dark eyebrows together, deciding exactly what to say. “I really like that boy, Stephano.”

Steve’s chest fills with warmth, not knowing exactly if she means what he hopes she means. But at that moment, he’ll take it.

“Me, too, Nonna.” He whispers, grinning at her. “Me, too.”

TAGGING ONLY @yours-etc!!!! WRITE SOMETHING I MISS YOUR WRITING

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #ej writes #cecilia harrington gets her own tag now #wiggly worm wednesday

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lovebugism · 2 years ago

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☄. *. ⋆ ┄ We Fight to Make Up

summary: after a run-in with your ex, steve's anger gets the best of him. sometimes you think he picks a fight just for the make up sex. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader word count: 7.6k warnings: smut, steve calls himself daddy once, briefly mentioned breeding kink, a touch of angst, insecure!steve, also steve with scruff because that needs a warning too, 18+ mdni a/n: ok i'm not the happiest with this but it's been sitting in my drafts for so long and she needs to see the world now so.. enjoy? <3

You don’t go out anymore. None of the party does, really.

Fighting through the end of the world and somehow surviving for three years straight made bars and clubs and getting drunk seem a little less important. It gets too easy to stay within the inner circle that’s seen the same sort of hell you’ve seen.

Eventually, time goes on and you don’t realize that you’ve only been around the same ten people until the thought of going to the grocery store alone sounds scary.

Fighting monsters, weathering alternate dimensions, beating up Russians soldiers — that’s cake. It’s the getting back to normal that’s so hard.

That's a bitter pill to swallow. None of you got to have too much of a childhood before the knowledge of a sentient darkness swirling beneath your feet turned everything upside down (no pun intended). A life with a regular routine unbound by the impending doom of an armageddon is hard to go back to, when fighting to stay alive is all you’ve ever done.

You try really hard, though. All of you do.

The kids try to find a nostalgic amusement in the arcade they used to frequent while grappling with the fact that they’ll never been those kids again. The older group of you dabbles in the simple pleasure of growing up and discovering what adulthood really means — getting drunk and going dancing just because you can, but facing the inevitable consequences of those actions all on your own.

The six of you find a certain solace at the Limelight. For Steve and Jonathan, they serve good beer — obviously cheap and unusually tangy on the tongue, but nice and cold nonetheless. For Eddie and Robin, there’s a karaoke machine and a stage across the bar, complete with every rock ballad imaginable. You and Nancy take special interest in the dance floor — a platform with light-up rainbow squares for all your drunken twirling needs.

It’s a nice place. More than that, it’s a familiar one. Eventually, going there every friday night is like comfort food in the belly, pleasant and warm. Steve feels safe there when he’s with all of you and tonight he’s especially fuzzy with a quiet sort of happiness that’s got his cheeks all pink.

Maybe the beer is partly to blame.

Or maybe it’s because you’ve got your hand tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, anchoring yourself to him and simultaneously fending off any unwanted attention from the scantily clad women around you who can't seem to take their eyes away from your Steve.

But he only watches you as you smile into your glass while Eddie Munson, all sweaty after his Madison Square Garden worthy rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart, tells some stupidly unfunny joke. You’re pressed contently into his side, like you would melt into him if you could, and he’s buzzing with the comfort of your warmth and the chemically induced mellow from the drink in his cup.

It was a good night. An easy one. A fun one.

And then it just… wasn’t.

When your ex waltzes into the bar, he brings the cold air in with him and an unusual sophisticated energy that’s typically foreign to this side of town. He’s got on a gray corduroy blazer and slacks to match. The black turtle neck he wears beneath it clings to his lean torso and broad chest, like he wants people to marvel at how muscular he is.

You don’t even realize it’s him at first. You turn to Nancy to talk shit about the douchebag at your eight o’clock that just walked in while the guy settles at the far end of the bar, around the corner that faces the group of you. He removes the dark Ray-Bans from the straight bridge of his nose and uses them to push back his cinnamon-colored curls.

Steve feels you tense at his side then. You duck inside yourself and force him and Robin to form a makeshift shield around you.

It’s a tad too dramatic for two people who ended on pretty decent terms. It was about as amicable as a breakup can be — you were both seventeen and thankfully already mature enough to know that the relationship wasn’t bound to make it outside of high school. So you split up in search of more fulfilling things.

You found yours, in Steve and in the rest of the party. And by the looks of it — the obviously expensive suit and the silver Rolex glittering under the dim yellow bar light — he found his.

You aren’t exactly sure how, but he sees you.

Probably because Robin couldn’t stop ogling at him from over her shoulder, obviously not getting the hint to act casual and inevitably dragging his attention over to the group of you.

He’s confused by the attention at first and then beaming when he notices you. The man flashes a set of pearly whites beneath a plump pink grin, all but shoving through the crowded bar to come and meet you.

Steve is able to get a better look at him when he’s no more than a couple inches away. The guy wrenches you away from him to wrap you in a friendly embrace, smiling like a ray of a thousands suns while he laughs with a hearty mirth.

A childlike and terribly jealous scowl settles upon Steve's features as his stomach wrenches something fierce. This stranger is touching you, and he hates that he’s touching you, but it’s more than that.

Steve’s almost certain this is what he would look like if he hadn’t been through the end of the world. The ornate suit and sunglasses worth more than most people’s salaries could’ve been his. In another life, he could’ve been this pretty and perfect and pure.

But, instead, here he is — dressed in an aged Hawkins Tigers sweatshirt and hand-me-down jeans that are frayed at the hems. There are bits of dried blood on the knee that he can’t get out. He isn’t quite sure if it’s his or if it belongs to one of the three varying monsters he’s been face-to-face with over the years.

His hair is pushed back and visibly un-styled, fluffier than usual because it hasn’t been washed in a while. And only now does he notice the prickly layer of scruff itching at his jaw and above his lip because the effort to shave is just too much sometimes.

He wishes he had, though. Now, he wants to completely perfect his appearance and change his life entirely — all at the sight of some stranger he didn't know existed before now.

The man introduces himself to the rest of the group when he parts from you — Todd.

Because of coursehis name is Todd.

No one says that out loud, of course, but you do share pairs of knowing looks. Eddie’s the only one brave enough, or rather drunk enough, to take the piss out of the guy.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed for Limelight?” he asks before laughing into his beer.

The rhetorical question leads to the man, Todd, to start complaining about work — how he’s making more than he knows what to do with, that the lifestyle isn’t as lavish as everyone made it out to be, that work is his best friend most days because he doesn’t have time for real relationships anymore.

And it doesn’t sound braggy. This isn't some rich guy complaining about all the money he has. He’s genuine, and that’s somehow even worse.

Steve can tell he’s working for some big four accounting firm without him having to say it. He can practically smell it all over the guy. Todd’s just got that air about him, that he’s got an office on the fiftieth story with large glass windows that span from the floor to the ceiling. He’s making well into the six-figures if that’s the case. Just like his goddamn dad.

Just like he would be if the endless cycling of fighting hadn’t stripped him flesh from bone.

Steve forces himself to shove that thought to the back of his mind.

“You know I’ve actually been thinking about, you know, just dropping everything. Putting in my two weeks and fucking off to France,” Todd admits. His eyes sparkle like a pair of fucking diamonds when they lock in on you. “Like we always used to talk about.”

That was your dream. The kind of reverie that wasn’t at all practical or the least bit tangible, but the kind you fantasized about nonetheless.

And here this asshole goes, living it for the both of you.

You’re grinning at him anyway, patting him on the shoulder while you congratulate him. You tell him he should do it. That he deserves it.

Steve, meanwhile, is so angry he can feel the prickle of the red-hot rage on his skin, like so many little needles. It’s a simmering heat for now, all slow and lazy. The longer he holds it in, the more likely he is to pop into a full boil. He knows that. But he keeps the fire in his chest and wallows in that high-pitched ache.

Todd leaves not too long after. Makes it a point not to overstay his welcome. He’s polite when he goes, making sure to talk to all your friends even though he didn’t exactly come for them — he compliments Eddie’s leather jacket and Robin’s taste in style, Jonathan and Nancy are both blushing pink when he praises their work with the local paper. He says something to Steve he can’t quite register because he’s too busy fuming.

The brunette girl beside him is practically swooning, and he has to remind her — “Robin, you’re gay.”

The man was kind, terribly so, the sort of politeness you can’t help but notice and marvel at, like a pretty pebble you’ve found on the ground. He didn’t overstep any boundaries with you either, like he respected that you two were practically strangers now — fucking asshole — and whether or not he knew you were with Steve, he kept a chivalrous distance anyway.

He must’ve known, though, he did have eyes after all. There’s no way he missed the way Steve had been looming over you the whole time. Or the possessive arm he had around your shoulder. Or the stern chocolate gaze that had ping-ponged between you and him the entire conversation.

When he leaves, there’s nothing to talk shit about or make fun of him for. Not only is that really fucking annoying, but it’s boring, and it leaves you and Steve as the punching bags for all their stupid jokes.

“You certainly have a type, don’t ya, doll?” Eddie teases you as he reaches behind Nancy to shove at your shoulder. “Steve’s practically a carbon copy of that douchebag.”

“Holy shit, I can see it now,” Robin marvels breathlessly. Her deep ocean gaze is still locked on Todd across the bar. He’s minding his own business now, ordering another drink, while the rest of you can’t seem to stop talking about him. She turns back to Steve, her eyes flitting over his features like it’s the first time she’s seeing them while she puts the pieces of a puzzle together.

“But, Steve’s like the dollar store version of him, though, right?” she wonders rhetorically and then feels the need to explain herself when Steve furrows his brows at her. “—Because, you know… he’s a lot richer than you are…”

The boy rolls his and brings the beer back to his lips. The clarification makes it sting more.

“Thanks, Rob.”

Steve isn’t quite sure what’s got him seething. He’s the personification of a forest fire now — scorching, raging, and deadly — without a reason to be. It’s entirely likely you’ll never see Todd ever again. He lives in the city these days and he just told you that he was planning on moving to fucking France.

But these facts don’t mean as much to him when he knows that the guy isn’t totally over you.

Steve knows Todd would be more than happy to take you out for coffee tomorrow morning to tie up any left-behind loose ends. He’s a rich guy going through a quarter-life crisis (Steve knows a little about what that’s like, too), he’d be more than happy to sweep an old ex-girlfriend off her feet and take her all the way to France with him. She’d need only to ask him to.

Maybe that’s what angers him. There’s a man, all rich and pretty and unscathed by war, that might love you like he does.

The wildfire in his chest grows. It’s a wonder it hasn't seared a hole in the fabric of his sweatshirt. And it burns. It leaves aching blisters on his skin like it’s the real damn thing. It’s like punches to the face, worse than every time he’s ever been beaten up combined.

He manages to keep the ashes of himself together. It's the least he can do for the rest of you, who obviously aren’t as bothered by Todd’s lingering presence and have since moved on to things more meaningful.

It wouldn’t be fair to project his ache onto you.

You guys don’t get too many nights like this, with work and school and lingering bouts of PTSD — who’s he to ruin this night for everyone else when he’s the problem?

But if any of you notice his simmering anger, you don’t show it.

He isn’t sure if that makes him feel better or not.

Nancy and Jonathan stay no longer than fifteen minutes after the fact. “We’ve got an early day tomorrow,” the say with a shrug, though everyone knows what that’s code for. Robin makes kissing noises at them as they make their exit.

Now, the brunette girl stands in front of the stage that Eddie parades on. He belts “If you only hold me tight, we’ll be holding on forever!” into the microphone for the hundredth time. She cheers for the boy like it’s the first time she’s ever heard the stupid song.

The bartender hands you two drinks, a couple of Sex on the Beach’s for you and Robin to try.

She hadn’t stopped talking about it since she spotted it on the menu even though she hates peach schnapps. You tell Steve you’re going to run it to her and that you bet she won’t make it through one sip without gagging. You also promise that you’ll try and pull Eddie away from the stage when the Bonnie Tyler song fades and then inevitably loops again.

He only nods and mumbles a vague affirmative under his breath. He doesn’t even look at you. Just stares down at his empty glass of beer and draws patterns on the cloudy cup with his finger.

It’s hard not to notice his uncharacteristically long silence.

He hasn’t been King Steve for quite some time, but that version of him always manages to peek out after a couple of drinks. He gets loud and brash and smiley and stupid. It makes the quiet demeanor he possesses now that much more daunting. Like a flag he’s waving to make sure everyone else knows that he’s upset about something or other.

Eventually, it makes you burst.

“Is something wrong?” you blurt.

He finally glances at you then. And has the gall to look confused. “What?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. You shift your weight on your feet and try to ignore the distant stinging of the ice glasses in your hand, how the cold of them shoots pins and needles into your palms. “You’re just… being really quiet.”

“I’m fine,” he dismisses with a shrug of his own. A hint of a smile flashes at the very corner of his mouth before he brings his drink to his lips. He swallows down the rest of it in one quick gulp. You watch anxiously as he waves to the bartender for another.

“We can go home if you want—”

“Jesus, I’m fine,” he interjects. The laugh that spills from his throat borders on annoyance. “Just go get the freak before he drives me crazy.”

With that, the two of you part ways. You, with the knowledge that something’s wrong with your boyfriend but having no way to make it better because he won’t tell you anything. And Steve, with another irrational reason to be angry at the world because how do you not get it?

If his ex-girlfriend showed up to a bar, looking like an airbrushed model with more money than all of you combined who’s got brains and wit and humility, he’d want you to get a little fucking jealous too.

It’s stupid. He knows it’s stupid. But he chooses to wallow in his anger than reflect on it, anyway. He takes pity on himself and makes everyone else out to be the enemy. Like he does best.

Even hours later, when he’s sobering up with room temperature water and a bowl of pretzels — and you’re calling a cab for a significantly drunker Eddie and Robin — he still feels the sting.

He makes sure you know it too.

The drive back home is uncomfortably quiet, which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if he at least had the radio on. But when he stuck the key into the ignition and music started blaring from the speakers (because he forget to turn it down beforehand), he turns it off completely. You feel to awkward to touch it.

“Do you, uh… Do you wanna talk about it now?” you ask him.

You’re unfamiliarly timid with him as you peer at him through your lashes. It’s like you’re looking at the sun, the way you have to glance at him from the corner of your eye so he won’t blind you. And it isn’t because of his usually sunny disposition because, somewhere along the course of the night, his shine got snuffed out. It’s because he’s practically lit himself on fire with his anger where he sits next to you.

And he still has the nerve to shake his head. “Talk about what? I told you, there’s nothing wrong,” he dismisses with one hand in a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and the other resting its elbow against the driver’s side door while his fingers pick anxiously at his lower lip. Nothing wrong, my ass.

“Are we seriously gonna play that game tonight?”

“What game?” he scoffs out a laugh.

“The game here you’re upset about something, but refuse to tell me why, so I have to guess what’s wrong with you until I get it right and you let me make it better.”

Steve glances at you and then back to the road. “I… I don’t do that.”

Oh, fuck, he totally does, he thinks to himself. Fuck, he hates that you know him so well.

“You’re literally doing it right now.”

“Well, I can’t be. Because I’m not upset about anything,” he argues with a shrug. “That’s, like, a mathematical impossibility. Or whatever.”

“Considering this is the most you’ve said to me all night, I know that isn’t true— And it’s not even a conversation! You’re just being passive aggressive!”

“Passive aggressive, huh?” he repeats sardonically.

“Yes!” you seethe. “You’re mad at me and I can tell that you’re mad, so just tell me why—”

“I’m not mad at you,” Steve grumbles. He feels even more like shit for making you think he was acting all pissy because of something you had done. You hadn’t done anything. You were perfect. You’re always perfect. And here he goes, making you think otherwise.

He slows to a stop at the last red-light before home. The neon scarlet matches that anger sweltering in his belly. He still refuses to look at you.

“Then what happened between when we got to Limelight and right now that’s got you so fucked up?” you ask him with a furrowed brow and inquisitive eyes.

The boy only huffs. His chest deflates with a heavy breath. He almost forgets to answer you because he’s too busy praying for the light to turn green so he can get the fuck home.

He just needs a little food in his system, he concludes, and a nice hot shower and a bed to rest his tired bones. Maybe then he’ll be able to function like he’s meant to.

He feels a sense of relief for the first time in hours when the light bathes the two of you in a neon emerald glow.

You let out a sharp exhale through your nose at his silence. You shake your head at him like an annoyed parent and cross your arms over your chest. Your knees turn away from him and towards the door in time with your gaze that flits to the window. Now you’re the one that’s pissed.

Steve mumbles lowly when he finally answers you. It’s nearly inaudible.

“Your douchebag ex.”

“What?” you reply, sparing a glance over at him. It isn’t a question of whether you heard him or not, but of why that’s what he’s being so mean to you about.

“Your douchebag ex,” he repeats louder and picks chapped skin from his bottom lip. He rubs his tongue over the irritated skin to soothe the burn. “That’s what I’m upset about.”

Your brows furrow as you rack your head for the conversation you had with Todd that you’d already forgotten about. He’d said hello, and that you looked nice, and then asked you what you’d been up to before making conversation with your friends. He’d wished you luck and walked back to his seat not too long after. You wonder if there was some code in his words that you’d missed.

“…I don’t get it. What did he do?”

“Really?” Steve wonders with an emotionless laugh. “You don’t have a single clue why that might’ve pissed me off?”

He barely slows at the sign of the four-way stop. The block is practically a ghost town now. No one’s out so late into the night. Any other time you might’ve said something about it, but you’re just as eager to get home as the simmering boy next to you.

“No! He stopped by to talk for, like, five minutes! Are you really upset because another man talked to me?” you shout and it burns him because, yeah, that is kind of what he’s mad about — but it’s more than that and you don’t seem to get it. It’s not your job to either. He’ll just burn for the both of you.

The car jerks to a stop when he parks in the driveway.

“Yeah, you’re right—” Steve mutters to himself as he snatches the keys from the ignition. “You don’t get it.”

You feel the impact of the slammed of the car door as he exits. The headlights illuminate the boy as he uses his key ring to unlock the front entrance of your shared home. The dim orange overhead light slowly dims above you and then shuts off completely, bathing you in darkness.

With a sigh and a fleeting thought of oh, it’s gonna be that kinda night, huh? you follow less unenthusiastically behind him.

“Then just explain it to me,” you plead, your voice coated with exhaustion. The warmth of the living room seeps into your bones and makes you that much more tired. “I really, really don’t wanna do this tonight.”

“That asshole was all over you,” Steve finally chooses to air his grievances while he toes off his sneakers.

“He hugged me once! What was I supposed to do? Push him off?”

“That’d be a start.”

“I would’ve done it!” you promise.

He plops onto the couch with a rather dramatic huff as you struggle to take off your boots, what with the zipper getting caught in the slider and being distracted by the storm cloud across the room.

“I don’t care about him! I literally haven’t seen him since I was eighteen! I basically forgot he existed in the first place.”

Steve doesn’t let himself take any solace in your words.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs with the shake of his head. He rests his elbows on his knees, runs his palms over his face once before dragging his fingers through his mussed hair. “Sometimes… I don’t know, I guess, sometimes it feels like maybe you deserve someone better than me.”

His confession feels like a stab in your heart.

You can only imagine how many daggers are piercing him now.

“Steve…”

“No. Don’t give me that bullshit spiel, alright?” he spurns with a shake of his stubborn head. When he laughs, it lacks any and all emotion; it’s gut-wrenchingly bitter and coated with venom. “We both know he could take way better care of you than I ever could. He’s practically a fucking millionaire, babe! And he’s, what, twenty-five? He has the money to drop everything and fly across the world— to France.”

“Steve—” you try again, to stop the spiral before it starts.

He doesn’t let you.

“I mean, fuck, I know how bad you wanna go there. You’ve been talking about it since we were eight,” he laments with wide, glassy eyes and an hand splayed out towards you. He brings it, then, to his chest and clutches at his heart, “But I can’t take you. Because I’m so broke, it fucking hurts. You deserve someone to do that shit for you, alright? And it’s not me. It’s never gonna be me.”

“…You really think he can take better care of me than you do?” you ask him so quietly that it sounds like a whimper. Your face is twisted in anguish, like his sadness pains you too.

“Well, yeah,” he chuckles like the answer’s obvious. He sniffles. “Considering we’re working our asses off just to make it through the week and you’d never have to work a day in your life if you were with that asshole.”

“It’s not about the money, Steve,” you agonize with the shake of your head. “I don’t love him. I would be so unhappy if I were with him because he’s not you. I don’t give a single fuck about France if you’re not gonna be there with me.”

You close the distance between you as you walk from the entrance to where he sits in the living room. He can hardly look at you as you round the couch to stand ahead of him, sparing only meek glances your way.

The small smile on your lips only half puts out the fire raging in his chest. It’s one of those natural wildfires now. The kind that you’ve just got to let burn.

“What do I have to do, Steve? What do you want me to do to prove that I just want you?” you ask him softly, nudging your sock-clad foot with his own. “I’ll fucking— I’ll find his number in the phone book right now and invite him over if you want—”

Yeah, because seeing him again is gonna make any of this shit better, he thinks bitterly to himself, though he’s pleasantly surprised by your following promise.

“I’ll make him come over here, act like I wanna catch up or whatever, and then make him watch while I suck your cock,” you paint the picture for him in a suddenly low, sultry tone.

Steve can almost see it — the look on Todd’s face as he stands in the foyer, his hands balled into fists at his side, wearing an angry amber tint upon his perfect face while he watches the girl that got away take a mouthful of another man’s dick. “I’ll get all nice and pretty on my knees for you and make him watch.”

Steve tenses at your words. His fingers twitch where they rests on his knees, itching to get a hold of you. His eyes go heavy as he gazes up at you, his stern stare looking much darker than before — hungrier.

Your eyes carry a similar sort of desire. They swim with innocence and yearning and knowing.

Because both of you understand how your fights usually end. You’ve been together long enough to know. The anger grows and grows in the belly of a dragon until it’s all you can do to keep your hands off of each other. You make Steve come so hard he forgets all the reasons he was raging in the first place and then he apologizes with his tongue deep inside you, touching you in all the tender ways he knows how.

“Yeah,” he breathes with a nod, the word heavy on his tongue. “That’s what I want.”

“You wanna own me, don’t you, Stevie?” you purr.

Your movements are calculated and cat-like as you mount him. Your hands caress him from his knees to his thighs, then rise up to his chest when you straddle his lap. “You wanna fuck me and make me forget about every guy that’s ever had me before you. Is that it?”

He nods, too dumb to speak for now. Your voice is all silk and heat. It reminds him of your wet, hot pussy sitting just over his lap. Only the thin layers of your clothes separate you from him.

“You wanna ruin everyone else for me, huh?”

“Fuck, yes,” he breathes, both in an answer and a moan as your hand reaches between you to grab his cock through his jeans.

“You already have,” you assure with a sincere twinkle in your eyes. “But feel free to remind me.”

When your mouths collide, it’s all tongue and teeth and spit. It’s not passionate, it’s dirty.

His tongue forces its way between your lips and into your mouth, rubbing every part of you he can reach with the muscle, like he wants you to feel all of him there — a lingering touch that you can’t get rid of.

Your mouths caress each other and then break apart again in acute, wet, and filthy clicks that fill the silence in the house.

His stubble softly scratches you as it rubs against your skin. The feeling of it sends chills down your spine. Fuck, you curse to yourself. It’d feel even better between your legs.

Steve separates from you suddenly, his teeth digging into your bottom lip. A whimper leaves your throat as he mouths at it. With hooded eyes, he lets it go and watches it fall back into place. Then he grabs your cheeks with two large palms and drags you back to him, sucking on the bitten skin and then on your tongue.

The sensation’s got you moaning, your eyes rolling back in your head, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Your obedient hands worm between your bodies to unbuckle his belt.

“You gonna be good for me?” Steve asks you while your fingers undo that button on his pants. His lips are pinker and more swollen, coated with a fine sheen of spit that matches what's smeared on his chin.

“I’ll be so good for you, Stevie,” you promise before reaching through the band of his underwear to wrap your fingers around his warm, half-hard cock.

A grunt escapes his throat as he slides your panties to the side. He’s suddenly grateful for the easy access granted by your dress — the one that makes your tits look like heaven, the one he was cursing just hours because it had Todd drooling all over himself when he saw you.

The thought of the man no longer angers him. He’s not the one with his finger between the lips of your pussy, already drenched and coated with you.

“Yeah? You want daddy to fill your hungry little cunt?” Steve asks you, almost taunting you. He only uses that nickname when he’s in a certain mood — the mood to ruin you.

The tip of his finger catches the peak of your swollen clit and you keen.

His touch makes you so stupid that you’ve already forgotten to answer his question. He makes sure to remind you, though, when his hand rears back and smacks against the bare flesh of your cunt.

You hear the wet slap before you feel it.

It makes you clench around nothing and moan louder for him, pressing yourself closer to him.

“Words,”he demands softly.

“Please,” you moan helplessly into his shoulder. You love when he gets like this, assertive and showy with the power you let him have over you. He gets mean with you, but never too much that you forget how much he loves you, and that’s when you like him best.

His finger slips so effortlessly into you. You could easily take more than that with the way your pussy is so eager to suck him inside. He knows it, too. He just wants to tease you.

He wants to leave you empty and yearning before he fucks you silly. For now, he’s taunting you with his slow and clinical touch, observing everything he’s doing to you and how it has you twitching and begging for more.

He wants to commit it all to memory.

He’s barely got the tip of his pointer and middle finger prodding at your clenching entrance; it’s your pussy that drags them further in, opening for him and then tightening around the appendages so they’ll never leave. The obscenity of it makes both of you moan.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty like this,” Steve mutters to himself. “And so fucking wet— enough for me to slip right in, don’t ya think?”

You’re not so sure but you nod into his shoulder anyway. Even after all this time together, you can’t quite get used to how big he is. He still has to work you up to take his cock, with three or more fingers shoved inside of you until you’re ready. Even then, it still burns for the first couple of seconds. There’s always a grace period that you have to wait for before he can move.

And you feel the ache of him in your belly after, every damn time. Like he’s still there.

But you’re so wet now, impossibly so, you don’t think you could feel a thing other than pure bliss when he nestles his cock deep inside of you.

You whine quietly when he pulls his fingers from you, though it turns into a breathy moan when you see them glisten with your wetness. He slides them over his length, jerking himself to lube himself up for you. Just for good measure, he grabs hold of his cock and rubs the rounded tip between your velvet lips, coating it further with your slick.

“Think there’s enough for me to take your ass tonight, baby?” he asks over your low moan. He has to hold back his own, grit his teeth to keep it from leaving his mouth. God, you feel exactly like silk. “You want me to fuck that tight little hole, huh? You’ve only let me in there, right?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer tightly.

He doesn’t know which question you’re answering. Probably all three. Or maybe you’re just moaning because he’s got you all stupid with his cock and it’s not even inside of you yet. Both seems most likely.

Steve positions himself against you. When you feel the bulbous tip of his head, you hardly wait to slide down, down, down upon his cock.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel full. It takes less time before he reaches the apparent end of you. The feeling makes you jolt against him, like your body’s trying to move back up and away from the sensation on instinct. He’s quick to grab your hips to keep himself inside you.

“Uh-uh,” he hums. “Don’t run away from me.”

“Fuck,” you moan into his shoulder and then whine. The pleasure and the accompanying ache has your head spinning. “You’re already so deep.”

“I know, baby. You gotta take all of me, though, okay? Said you were gonna me by good girl, remember?”

His coo is enough to comfort you. You nod against his neck and let him guide you further and further down his cock.

You grit your teeth when you think he can’t possibly fill you anymore. The burn peaks all at once and ebbs so quickly, letting the rest of his inches slide in you with ease. And, god, if you don’t feel him in your fucking throat.

He stills, thankfully, and lets you get used to the feeling of him all over again.

“There you go,” Steve praises like he always does and then laughs at how rigid you’ve gone. “Breathe, baby.”

The exhale comes out as a sob and a small “fuck”, but you force yourself to relax against him nonetheless. His warm hands rub soothingly against the buzzing skin of your thighs beneath the skirt of your dress. “Doing so good for me, baby.”

“I can feel you in my fucking guts right now,” you slur, voice fragile like glass.

Your words are almost enough to make him burst and you haven’t even moved yet. A deep, hearty groan climbs from his throat. He tips his heavy head to the back of the couch and clenches his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut to stave off the feeling.

He makes himself climb down from the peak of pleasure and quickly gain his bearings all over again.

“Ride me, honey,” he whispers you.

Immediately, you start rocking your hips against him. His sigh is blissful, almost dreamy, as he watches you work yourself on top of him.

You’re always so patient with your pleasure, so calculated and attentive. You slide your hips back over his thighs and then up again, moaning every time the material of his sweatshirt rubs against your clit. You’re not chasing the feeling, you’re letting it come slowly and ease its way up to you. You know you’ve got all the time in the world.

Steve has always admired your patience, but it’s never one he could hope to possess. He rides toward an orgasm on a white mare. He claims it, he hunts it, he snatches it. Because, you’re right, you’ve got all the time in the world — he wants you to come as many times as the night (or, rather, your pussy) will allow.

So it isn’t at all surprising when gets impatient with your slow movements. And when one hand falls to your ass and the other slides up your back and clutches the opposite shoulder, you know what you’re in for.

Even though you’re expecting it, a high-pitched moan spills from your mouth when he starts fucking up into you. He’s doing a whole lot more than just hitting the right spot. The rubbing of the fabric is unrelenting against your clit.

You’re always done for when he takes you like this. Both of you know it.

“You already close, aren’t you?” he manages through heavy pants over the lewd slapping of his thighs against your own. “This is all it takes, huh?”

“’S because of you,” you slur into the sticky skin of his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you moan.

He can feel himself getting closer and he groans through gritted teeth. The hand on your shoulder ascends to the back of your head. His fingers tangle in your hair and pull you from the refuge you’d found in the book of his shoulder. It allows him to see you for the first time since you’d mounted his cock.

Your cheeks are blotchy and glowing cherry. Your eyes are glassy and glazed over with pleasure. Your lips swollen from where you’d been biting at them.

Perfect, he thinks to himself.

He drags that hand to your chest, wrenching at the plunging neck and pushing it down to reveal your tits. They bound out of the fabric with ease, a small red and raw line at the tops of them from where the dress had kept them so tightly contained.

He palms at your left breast, digs his fingers into the fat of it and lets your hard and pebbled nipple rub against his palm.

“Fuck, baby,” he almost whines. It takes all of his willpower to keep his eyes open to look at them. “You’ve got the prettiest fucking tits I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s why I wore this— wanted your attention—” you confess through each of his thrusts.

“Yeah, you got my fucking attention, sweetheart,” he manages a breathy laugh.

His heart swells at the thought of you picking this dress because you thought he might like it. That you’d think of him doing something as mundane as picking what you wore out to the bar you went to every Friday night.

It gets too easy to want to slip into that softness. But he knows that you’re already close. So, so fucking close.

“Now come all over my cock for me, yeah?” he demands softly. “Cream on this dick and show me how good you are.”

And, like the good girl you are, don’t need to be told twice.

You shudder against him and then go rigid. He watches with a proud, lazy grin as you tip your head back, squeeze your eyes shut, and let your mouth fall agape. The feeling in your stomach builds and builds and builds, the pleasure disappearing for a moment, before coming back in an explosion that makes you gush.

As though your moans weren’t enough of a confirmation of your orgasm, you go so unmistakably tight around him that it makes his legs twitch beneath you. He angles his hips so he can peek between the two of you to watch the sheen of your cum glisten on his hard cock.

“God, you’re so fucking sensitive like this— holy shit.”

“Steve!” you whine when your high starts to fade and his thrusts only quicken.

He's chasing his own pleasure now, you know that, but the feeling against your abused pussy is growing into a nearly unbearable one.

You bite your lip so hard it’s a wonder you don’t draw any blood. You grip his shoulders and ball his sweatshirt in your fist, tethering yourself to him and to reality.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” he asks with his chin jutted out to look up at you. “Who else can fuck you like this?”

You can tell by his glassy eyes and erratic thrusts that he’s close to his own orgasm. He always wants you to talk him through it, to praise him and to tell him how good he makes you feel. For obvious reason, the whole thing comes terribly natural to you.

“Only you,” you promise tiredly. “’S just you, Stevie—”

“Fuck,” he spits and tilts his head to the back of the couch. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and brings his bottom lip between his teeth, never easing his impossibly swift thrusts.

“Want you to come in me,” you whisper to him. You rest your arms on his shoulders and drag your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp and pulling every time he lets a moan slip. “Want you to come so deep inside me— I’m dripping for days—”

“Shit, baby.”

“And then, when I’m all round and full with your baby— everyone’s gonna know who I belong to, right?”

“Fuck yes,” he groans. “Gonna come so— fuck— so nice and deep in this pussy. My pussy.”

“Please,” you beg, like you aren’t half-delirious with your own pleasure. “Come in your pussy, Stevie.”

“Holy shit—” His cock pulses and twitches and then spits inside you. He grabs onto your hips more roughly than he intended and keeps you tightly pressed against him while he comes, giving you several long and warm ropes against your velvet walls. He whimpers when your pussy flutters around him.

You collapse against him when his orgasm comes and goes, rocking against his lap to get him through his high until he stops you with a firm squeeze to your thigh. You both sink further into the couch, swimming in the peaceful void that pleasure always pushes you into.

He rubs his hands beneath the skirt of your dress, petting your warm and sticky skin as the after-sex bliss rest heavily upon the both of you.

“Here,” he breaks the satin silence and taps at your hip. “Get off, baby. Let me get you some water or something—”

He feels you shake your head from where you’ve tucked it in his shoulder again. “Don’t wanna move. Want you to stay inside me.”

“Yeah?”

You’ve never done this before — cockwarming. He’s not sure if you have before, but he definitely hasn’t, and certainly not with you.

Before you, he was the kind of asshole that went to sleep right after sex. The thought of staying inside his partner never crossed his mind. But to his defense, none of his partners thought to do it either. Being King Steve and all meant there wasn’t a lot of cuddling going on after sex. It was usually one-and-done affairs, but he never did this with any of his girlfriends before either.

And now that he’s matured into a somewhat respectable adult, he takes great pride in taking care of you after, in cleaning you up and making sure you’re alright. And when you’re either falling asleep or wanting to shower, there’s no room to be kept inside you. Not until now.

“Wanna fall asleep like this,” you confess. The way you’re halfway slurring and settling more heavily against him tells him you’re not too far off.

“That’s not gonna be comfortable for you, baby,” he scolds softly. Because him — he’s perfect like this. He’s slouched in the plush cushion of the couch and you’re wrapped so tightly around him (in every possible way) you've become his own personal blanket.

But your back is hunched from where your neck is snug and pressed into his shoulder. You’ll likely wake up aching tomorrow, in more ways than one.

“Don’t care,” you mumble and sprinkle kisses to his neck, just because you can. “Wanna stay like this forever.”

“Forever?” he laughs tiredly.

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You shift on his lap to look at him, exhaling a moan through your nose when you feel him twitch inside of you, even though he’s going steadily soft. Your gaze is innocent and yearning and knowing — hungry again. “Think you can take that, Harrington?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he promises with a sincere twinkle in his cinnamon colored eyes. “I can take it.”

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #stranger things #stevie oneshot #published by bug #st oneshots

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 11 months ago

Text

To the victor the spoils

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 19

Prompt: Enemies to lovers

Rated: T

CW: light blood and violence; steamy kissing; very light dubcon if you squint (they're actually both super into it, I promise)

Tags: Fantasy AU; Magic AU; Guard!Steve; Thief!Eddie; Sexual tension; Flirting; Fighting; First kiss

Notes: Thought that kiss was hot in writing? Wait until you see it! @house-of-the-moving-image did an entire mini comic!

In the end, it’s just the two of them again.

Steve jumps over another groaning pile of half-conscious guards and bursts out onto the roof, cold night air slapping him in the face and making the cape of his uniform whip.

“Munson!” he barks.

He is standing by the edge of the roof, a black cut-out against the starlit sky. As Steve stalks closer, he can see the smile curling at his lips, the amusement glinting in those dark eyes.

“Stevie,” he greets, like they’re two acquaintances who’ve just met on the market square - not the new Captain of the Guard and the city’s most wanted criminal. “My, don’cha look strapping in the new get-up. Congrats, I bet daddy’s mighty proud.”

“Shut it,” Steve growls, ignoring the way Eddie’s eyes linger on his golden breastplate, the way it makes a treacherous heat prickle at his neck. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Now give it back!”

He jerks his head at the necklace clutched in one black-gloved hand. Eddie pouts.

“Don’t wanna. It’s shiny.”

Steve groans. It’s like talking to a five-year-old. A five-year old clad in black armor who’s versed in combat magic.

“It is a priceless magic artifact that’s been in Lord Carver's family for generations-”

“Yeah, and what a load of good they’ve done with it,” Eddie sneers. “High time it got into the hands of someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

“Oh, and that someone would be you?”

“Look at you,” Eddie winks. “Pretty and clever. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta-”

“You’re not going anywhere!” Steve snaps. His sword slides out with a high, metallic sound.

Eddie raises his hands. “Woah, big boy. Careful now, you don’t wanna-”

Steve roars and lunges.

Eddie skips out of reach, but not quite fast enough. A lock of curly hair floats to the ground.

“Oh sweetheart, you're gonna regret this,” Eddie purrs.

And all hell breaks loose.

The air crackles with the taste of ozone, a blinding light erupts from the artifact, and Steve just barely manages to parry. Something whirrs through the air, glides off his blade and a sharp, hot pain explodes all over the side of his face. Something warm trickles down his cheek.

“Hell yeah,” Eddie whoops and comes flying at him, giant shards of solid magic whirling around him, eyes eerily alight with their glow. “That's what I'm talking about!”

The world blurs into a frenzy of movement and adrenaline. Attack and parry, dive for cover behind the towers and turrets and battlements of the roof, attack again. It’s almost comforting in its familiarity, this dance of theirs. Steve knows all of Eddie’s little quirks, the subtle twitches of his face that indicate his attacks before they actually come. They’ve done this so often, he can read him like an open book.

The problem is, Eddie knows him just as intimately. Steve screams with rage, forces his aching limbs to go faster, harder, but it’s no use. Every blow that he tries to land, Eddie blocks, every twist and turn he makes, Eddie’s already there, always with that infuriating, dimpled grin, that amused little quirk of his brow.

Until Steve’s foot lands on a wet patch of moss and he slips.

It all goes so fast he has no time to be terrified - just feels the horrible sense of vertigo as the world tilts and the cobbled street jumps at him. Then, before he can so much as scream, there's arms wrapping around him and he's being hauled backwards, back pressed flush against another body. His blade goes clattering into the shadows.

“Whoops,” Eddie chuckles into his ear. Steve can feel his chest rising and falling with exertion, can feel his hot breath clouding against the shell of his ear. “Thought I told you not to fall for me.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, tries to struggle free, but Eddie has one arm around his chest, the other flush against the hollow of his throat, and he can't go anywhere. “Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

“Oh, do I?" Eddie’s lips twitch into a smirk against the nape of his neck. “Then why were you holding back?”

“Fuck you!” he grits out, but all it earns him is a low tut. “Now release me.”

“What, without a reward?” Eddie’s voice tingles down his spine, sweet and potent like poisoned mead. “You know how I am about pretty things. And you wouldn't wanna deny the victor his spoils, would you?”

“Asshole!” Humiliation coils hot and heavy in Steve’s abdomen. “Stop joking and-”

Eddie snarls against his ear. “I've told you a million times, honey. I'm not joking.”

Steve’s world spins again, breath punched clean from his lungs as he is flipped around and slammed against the nearest wall. Eddie doesn’t leave him any time to recover, just surges in with a hungry growl and crashes their lips together. When Steve tries to struggle, he bites down on his bottom lip, uses the pained gasp it earns him to lick into his mouth.

Someone moans, but it takes Eddie running his tongue over the roof of his mouth and pushing a leg between his thighs before the sound tumbles out again and Steve recognizes his own voice. They only break apart when they run out of air, both flushed and struggling for breath.

And that is when the door to the roof slams open and Lord Carver and his men push through.

“He went this way! Seize him!”

Eddie lets out an annoyed huff and leans in for one last peck against Steve’s lips.

“Sorry, darling. Gotta go, y'know how it is. See you next time.”

He steps out of his space and the night air hits Steve like a bucket of ice water. Eddie winks at him and steps over the edge of the roof.

By the time Carver and his guards arrive, the night has long swallowed him.

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles #phantom thief au

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eddiebabygirldiaz · 4 months ago

Text

several sentences sunday

tagged by @theotherbuckley @inell @bi-buckrights

thank ya darlins! <3

the post s7 fic ive been working on is finally finished so while im working on edits here's a snip

Buck’s gaze falls to Eddie’s mouth and stays there, blue blue blue eyes pulsing with something that feels like it’s in tempo with whatever is raging behind the cage of Eddie’s ribs. Then Buck huffs again and hangs his head, directing his next words to the floor. “It’s always been–I’ve kind of always wanted to, like–dance with someone in the kitchen.”

Oh.

Eddie mouths the word silently, a bit taken aback. Not really what he was expecting but–it kind of makes sense. It’s a sweet, simple, lovely kind of thing. Something Buck would daydream about and imagine for himself but never grasp for because he fears his grip is too tight and demanding.

And suddenly, Eddie aches. Right down to his marrow.

“It’s stupid,” Buck says, rushed and uneven. He flings a hand forward, gesturing at something that doesn’t exist. “Just a–silly little fantasy I guess. Me and–Me and Maddie used to dance together actually. When I was little and shorter than her. She would put me on her feet and we’d twirl all over the place until we got sick at our stomachs.”

That image is–

Cute. Beautiful.

Eddie can picture it perfectly, a young Buck and Maddie, both of them bright and loud, sparkling with that special thing only the two of them have. Maddie guiding her little brother to stand on her feet and keeping a protective hold on him. Buck looking up at her with wide eyes large enough to swallow someone whole. The two of them giggling as they spun around together.

He did that with Sophia. Not often, only a few times. But each time he would carry her through a sloppy kind of square dance while they wore cowboy hats far too big for either of them, the brims falling into their eyes and cutting off their vision so that they inevitably tripped over each other.

A bruising pang presses hard against that sensitive spot behind his sternum.

And before Eddie even realizes what he is doing he wraps his fingers around Buck’s wrist and gives a gentle yank, guiding him away from the counter and into the middle of the kitchen, his mind already counting the steps and tempo required to match up to the song currently playing.

tagging @spaceprincessem @elvensorceress @shitouttabuck @mustachediaz @queerdiazs @devirnis @freewayshark @jeeyuns @watchyourbuck @transboybuckley @try-set-me-on-fire @rewritetheending @lonelychicago @monsterrae1 @saybiwithme @sibylsleaves @shyaudacity @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @buckera @exhuastedpigeon @dr-shortsighted-owl @hippolotamus @bigfootsmom and anyone else who wants to share!

#911 #eddie diaz #911 abc #evan buckley #buddie #buddie wip #buck x eddie #911 fic #post s7 fic #ryan writes #several sentence sunday

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strawberryspence · 2 years ago

Text

It happens on a mundane Thursday night. Steve came to hang out after his shift, they didn’t smoke or drink anything because Steve still has a shift early morning tomorrow. They fall asleep tucked together in Eddie’s bed because, ya know, platonic.

It’s around 6 in the morning when Eddie wakes up. They’re facing each other, there’s a noticeable space between the two of them (because again platonic). There’s a soft yellow hue seeping through the window, the light dancing on Steve’s face. From where Eddie is laying, he can watch Steve’s sleeping face. He can count the moles, can trace the freckles scattered on his face, can see the slope of his nose, the pinkness of his lips.

And god, does he want to touch Steve’s face. Caress it, hold it, kiss ever square and inch of it.

His first mistake was moving closer, like the few inches of space between the two of them wasn’t enough. He moves closer so he can look at him better. His second mistake was letting his hand ghost on Steve’s features, hands lightly tracing moles and freckles, like an artist admiring his favorite work.

His fingers ghost on Steve’s lips. It’s always been pink, he thinks Steve actually wears lipgloss some days but he doesn’t even want to think about that right now. In a moment of weakness, his lets a finger touch it. It’s soft, just like how he thought it would be.

If he lets himself be delusional, it might feel different when he gets the chance to kiss him. But he’s so sure it will be fucking soft (and sweet, and amazing, and wonderful, god help him).

Eddie stares at him, slowly moving his hand off Steve’s face because the other might wake up any moment now and he doesn’t want to be caught touching him. He had no reason to be doing so.

But his hand doesn’t get far, Steve catching his wrist, warm hands tightening around it.

A smile spreads on Steve’s face, his eyes slowly opening. It takes everything in Eddie to not get lost in his brown eyes right now, because he literally just got caught.

“You’re being a creep, Eddie.” Steve says, his voice teasing. None of it registers to Eddie. His heart is racing too fast, his mind running and sputtering for an excuse.

“I— I— I wasn’t—“

“You just touched my lips and my whole face. Are you seriously still not gonna kiss me?”

Eddie’s eyes widen at the question, heart thumping in his chest louder than it has ever.

Steve rolls his eyes, “Fine. I’ll do it.”

And before Eddie can even process anything, Steve’s lips are on his.

Turns out he was right, Steve’s lips are soft (and sweet, and amazing, and wonderful, just like its owner).

#i didnt reread this #so sorry for mistakes #and wrote this on my 5 minute pomodoro break #yes steddie is my relaxation break #from studying #shut up #steddie rants #steddie #steddie headcanons #steddie headcanon #steve harrington x eddie munson fluff #steve harrington x eddie munson #daeheadcanons #steve harrington #eddie munson

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feralwritings · 4 months ago

Text

three's company

part two

word count: 3.1k

part one | masterpost

Hours that felt like days passed.

They’d taken turns listening to music until the battery in her Walkman died, played three rounds of hand slaps before their skin grew too red and sensitive to continue, and now, they were taking turns throwing cereal crumbs into a small tin can placed several feet away from them, competing with each other for money.

“Dammit!” Eddie muttered as she sunk another crumb squarely into the can, “How are you so good at this?”

She shrugged, popping a piece of cereal into her mouth, “I dunno, natural skill, I guess.”

He threw his crumb, which landed two inches to the right of the can.

“You’re down a whole seventeen cents, Munson.” She teased, bumping his shoulder with hers, “Are you sure you wanna keep this up?”

“I dunno,” he huffed playfully, returning the bump, “You’re gonna bankrupt me if we keep this up. I’ll have to start paying you in favors rather than cash.”

She snorted at that, taking a swig of the soda they’d been sharing. He’d requested beer, got a disapproving look from her, and amended his request to a pack of Coke.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the riveted metal of the boathouse wall, staring up at the watery reflections of the lake water on the ceiling. She was obviously deep in thought, biting and rolling her own lip between her teeth.

Before he had the chance to ask her what she was thinking about, there was a noise outside, like a car door slamming.

“They must be back,” She said, getting to her feet and padding sleepily over to the window, crouching to look outside.

Eddie knew that there was something wrong before she said anything. Her body grew taut, and he heard the sharp intake of breath she took, her knuckles turning white where her hand gripped the windowsill.

She turned, and whispered, “It’s Jason,”

She watched as the color drained from his face, and he had that cornered animal look again, and right before the adrenaline kicked in and her mind went into that cold, pragmatic state she felt his panic course through her like an electrical current, hitting every nerve she had on the way.

She looked out the window again, narrowing her eyes against the darkness. Flashlight beams were dancing in the windows of the house, too many to count but enough to know that if they were found, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

She heard a flutter of plastic behind her and turned. Eddie had ripped away the tarp and had drawn a pocket knife and was hacking at the ropes that kept the boat aloft, and as each one snapped, the boat plunged into the water with a great deal of noise, noise that she knew would reveal them in seconds, if they hadn’t been already.

Silently, they both got into the boat, Eddie grabbing the oars and her attempting to start the engine. As they moved farther into Lover’s Lake, she watched as the flashlight beams reached the shore, and under the roar of the oars in the water, the sputtering engine, she heard yelling, and most horrifyingly, the sound of swimming.

Jason and Patrick had dove into the lake, and were following the boat, increasing speed.

“Keep going!” She shouted over her shoulder, “This fucking-” She pulled the cord on the engine again, to no avail, “Piece of shit!”

“Hey!” Jason shouted, spitting water out of his mouth, “Where do you think you’re going with her?”

Her head snapped to look at Jason, who was gaining on them, moving in and out of grabbing distance of the boat. The rowing had slowed to a stop and she felt the boat lurch as Eddie stood, grabbing her and shoving her behind him, waving the oar threateningly over the side of the boat at Jason.

“Just stay back, man!” Eddie pleaded, nearly clipping Jason on the head twice with the tip of the oar.

“Eddie,” She grabbed his elbow, “Eddie, stop!”

She peered over his shoulder at Jason, and watched as recognition bloomed across his face.

“You,” Jason panted, “Are you okay?”

She stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open, “I’m fine, Jason, you need to-”

“He killed Chrissy, you realize that right? What sort of spell does he have you under, huh?” Jason edged toward the side of the boat reaching out a hand to her, as if to save her, “You can break out of it, I promise, just take my hand, okay? Just take it.”

“Jason, he didn’t kill Chrissy,” She said, having to stand on tiptoe to keep eye contact with Jason, pleading with her eyes for him to understand. Eddie stood in front of her, one arm twisted behind him and pressed against her back protectively, the other holding the oar over the side of the boat. Both hands were shaking.

“Yes, he did!” Jason punched the side of the boat, making them both jump, “He tore her apart!”

“Jason,” she ducked under Eddie’s arm, much to his displeasure. He wound his arm around her waist instead, pulling her to his chest, “Jason, shut up and listen to me. l am not lying-”

She never got to finish her sentence. In the time she’d been negotiating with Jason, none of them had noticed Patrick, who’d been staring off in the distance for about a minute. All three of their heads turned as he was pulled underneath the surface.

“Patrick?” Jason whimpered, “Hey, Patrick, stop messing around-”

They all started as Patrick was ripped from the water and into the air like a marionette, limbs hanging loosely.

“No,” She heard Eddie breathe against her hair, the grip on her waist tightening to the point of pain, “No, no no no no.”

When the first crack echoed across the lake, she couldn’t do anything but stop breathing. She watched, in sheer terror as Patrick’s limbs twisted and broke, one right after the other, a sinister orchestra of nothing but percussion. Each crack made a part of her body twinge and as blood spurted from his eye sockets, tears sprang from hers. When he crashed back into the water below, Eddie had taken a startled step backwards, too fast, and soon, they were both toppling out of the boat and plunging into the freezing lake.

She kicked wildly, and as her head broke the surface she looked over and saw that Jason was already dragging Patrick’s lifeless, broken body to the opposite shore, blood blooming like ink in the water behind them. Next to her, Eddie’s head had emerged as well.

“Swim for it,” he choked.

Struggling, shivering, muscles burning and lungs aching, she pulled the rope attached to the boat along with Eddie, and together, they swam for it.

They both flopped onto the shore of Lovers Lake, coughing and retching, and in Eddie’s case, sobbing uncontrollably.

It took her a moment or so to notice, too busy expelling all the water she could out of her lungs. But once her ears registered the heaving sobs, about five feet to her right, she scrambled against the rocky shore towards him.

“Eddie, we have to move,” she spluttered, coughing up more water.

He didn’t seem to hear her, his entire body racking with sobs. Tears sprung in her own eyes, and she got in front of him, gathering his face in her hands.

“I know, I know, I know,” she pleaded desperately, trying to make him look into her eyes, “I know you’re scared, I know, but we have to keep moving, honey, we just have to, okay? I’m here, you’re not alone. Eddie,” he looked into her face at the sound of his name, his expression one of absolute anguish, pinched brows and trembling lips, misery and grief and fear oozing like tar from every muscle, “Eddie, we need to move. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?”

Eddie nodded, choking out another sob before allowing her to pull him to his feet. Hand in hand, they ducked into the woods, her in the lead, pulling him along.

“We’ll go to Skull Rock,” she muttered into the night, the breeze turning the water that clung to her skin to ice, “It’s a good landmark, they’ll be able to find us.”

“Right,” Eddie choked out, more than willing to listen to her instruction. He tightened his hold on her hand, pulling her to a stop. She turned, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“What?” She asked softly, “What’s wrong?”

“Thanks,” he breathed, “For not leaving me.”

“It’s not like I really had a choice, Ed, we were in the middle of a lake,” Even in the dim moonlight, he can see the expression in her eyes, bashful, and as she looked away, he watched as she pressed her lips into a fine line.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said softly, tugging a little on her hand in hopes that she’d look at him. She didn’t, “Back at the boathouse,” he slipped a finger under her chin, turning her head gently so he could look into her eyes. He didn’t know where the need came from, but he could feel it, stirring deep within him, “You could’ve left. But you didn’t. So, thanks.”

The way she looked at him - wide, shining eyes, eyebrows drawn together in a gentle furrow, lips slightly parted, the slight tilt to her head - made the need within him stir more, something that he thought long dead within him raising its head curiously.

“You don’t need to thank me,” she whispered, barely audible over the breeze. He saw her say it more than he heard it.

“Yeah, I do,” he whispered back, just as quietly. The finger under her chin had turned into a gentle caress of her face, fingers splayed along the side of her neck and his thumb running along the soft line of her jaw.

She leaned into his touch a little, a small, sad little smile on her lips before she pulled away, hand still in his, and dragged him forward.

“Gotta keep moving.”

Once they got to Skull rock, she took stock of her surroundings, “This is good. We’ll be okay here, until they can come for us.”

Shivering, she pulled her shirt over her head, wringing it out.

“Uh, what are you doing?” He asked, suddenly averting his gaze from her almost bare torso.

“It’s too chilly to be wearing wet clothes,” She said, draping her shirt over a nearby branch, “They’ll dry faster if we take them off, and we won’t get hypothermic and die.”

She pulled off her shoes, pouring lake water from each of them in turn. Then came her socks and finally, her pants. She winced uncomfortably as she peeled the wet denim off of her legs, sighing in relief when they were finally off. The cool night air made goosebumps erupt across her supple, soft skin and she shivered, standing on tiptoe to drape her pants over the branch, fussing at them to make sure that they would dry the fastest.

When she turned around, she caught Eddie staring at her before he pointedly looked away.

“You should probably…you know…” She gestured vaguely to his body, running a hand through her wet hair before leaning to the side to wring it out.

“Right.” He muttered, and he slowly started to peel off his own layers. It took quite a bit longer than hers hand, considering the vest, jacket, shirt, undershirt, belt, and various other accessories.

She moved away from him to scout around their little area, glancing every direction. She couldn’t hear voices, or see flashlights that would indicate that anyone was looking for them, so for the time being, they were safe.

“Well,” She said, “We’ll be fine here, I think we should just stay. This is a good landmark for them to find us at. Does the supercomm still work?”

He pressed the button, and nothing happened. Flipped various switches to no avail.

“Fuck.” She muttered, “We’ll have to figure something out. Bad news is, Jason knows that I’m with you now, and apparently thinks you’re holding me hostage, so any little forays into town are now out of the question for both of us. Good news…can’t think of any.”

It was a dire situation. Cold, alone, in the middle of the woods, with no way to contact their friends to let them know that, hey, Eddie was at the sight of another murder so if the cops didn’t want to find him before, they sure did now!

She turned to look at him, taking in his diminished, pale frame. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest and his wet boxers were clinging to him in such a way that she would’ve almost preferred he was naked. She knew that she couldn’t look much better: an old bra and panties, hair starting to frizz from her little dip in the lake, makeup running.

She took in their surroundings once more. The pale moonlight streaming in through the canopy of trees above gave just enough light for them to be able to see each other, but not much else.

Without another word, she sat down underneath the rock, pulling her legs close to her chest and resting her head on her knees. The night had warmed the slightest bit, so she wasn’t shivering as bad as she had been before, and with her skin being almost dry, the cool breeze didn’t sting as much.

He followed suit, sinking against the rock wall across from her, sighing.

A few minutes passed in silence, nothing but the distant crickets and gentle breeze permeating the air.

“What happened that would make Steve not want to leave you alone with me?” Eddie suddenly asked, looking at her. She looked so pretty in the soft moonlight, the faded blue of her bra set delicately against her soft skin. Her eyes, more shadow than light, staring at him, and he can see in the gentle furl of her brow and the way her knuckles have tightened around her knees that this subject that he has broached is touchy.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the rock, her eyes cast to the sky. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and she took a deep breath, as though bracing herself for something.

“There’s been…a couple times where I’ve taken what he deemed to be unnecessary risks. Do you, uh,” she swallowed, “Do you remember Billy Hargrove?”

The flare in Eddie’s nostrils and the sharp breath he took seemed to indicate that, yeah, he did.

“Right,” she sighed, running her hands over her face, “He tried to kill me on a couple of occasions. Granted, the second time he was possessed by this evil force from the Upside Down, and so it wasn’t really him, but the first…that was all him.”

Eddie nodded slowly, “So, were you guys like…together? And something went…wrong?”

She laughed, sharp and biting, into the night, “No. Nah, he’d never date someone like me. He showed up to the Byers a couple years ago, when we were in the swing of this Upside Down bullshit, and me, the kids, and Steve were there. Billy came after Lucas, I stepped in, we fought, Steve showed back up, they fought, and it all ended when Max stuck a needle full of tranquilizer in Billy’s neck.”

Eddie nodded slowly, “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” she agreed softly, “Steve didn’t deem me stepping in front of Lucas as an unnecessary risk, but the second time it happened, Steve wasn’t too happy with me.”

Eddie waited. It seemed like he didn’t want to hear anymore, but couldn’t help from wanting to know, to understand.

“Second time, we were at the mall, right before it burned down. We’d all met up there, after Steve and Robin had been held hostage by the Russians, and the kids, Nancy, Jonathan and I had been attacked by the mind flayer numerous times. Billy showed up, again, so I tried to distract him, leading him away from everyone. I woke up in the hospital a few days later. I don’t remember what happened, and no one knows because we were alone, but I had a concussion, four broken ribs, and a gnarly wound on my back.”

She turned, showing him the scar. Right across the middle of her spine, angled, four inches long. Gnarly, indeed.

“You’re lucky he didn’t sever anything,” Eddie gasped out, “It’s a fucking miracle you’re walking and talking, an injury like that so close to your spine.”

She snorted, “That’s what Steve said! Maybe you two are more alike than I thought.”

Eddie didn’t know how to feel about that, but her smile was nice, so that quickly eclipsed whatever insecurity had bloomed from being compared to Steve.

He wondered, though, how she was able to talk about these instances, these traumas, with such ease. He voiced this thought, and she tilted her head in consideration.

“I dunno,” She shrugged, “I was protecting the people that matter to me. Or at least, I was trying to. If I was going to go out before my time, I don’t think that would’ve been such a bad way to go. Painful, maybe, but those kids are just…they’re kids, with their whole lives ahead of them, ya know?”

Eddie nodded, “Yeah. I get that, I do, but…”

“But what?”

“You’re, what, nineteen? Twenty? Don’t you have a whole life ahead of you too?”

She shrugged, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Her tone was disarming, worrying, casual in a way it shouldn’t be when talking of such things, and it unsettled Eddie more than he would care to admit. The way she viewed her mortality, her place in the world and within the group dynamic was…scary, to say the very least.

Eddie at least understood where Steve was coming from, when it came to her. If she’d always been this cavalier about something as precious as her life, it made sense why Steve seemed to keep such a close eye on her.

Since Steve wasn’t here, Eddie supposed that the mantle of keeping an eye on her and keeping her from doing something stupid and reckless fell upon him. Not that he minded, she’d been keeping an eye on him this whole time, keeping his panic from boiling over the surface, keeping him safe through a wealth of knowledge someone as young as her shouldn’t have possessed.

He felt a strange sensation then, as he looked at her. Something inexplicable, that made his breath feel a bit sharp in his lungs, a surge of anxiety that was entirely separate from the way he had been feeling for the past two days.

She, ever perceptive, must’ve sensed the change within him, because she peered at him curiously, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he choked out, clearing his throat, “Yeah, I’m good.”

#steddie x reader #Steve Harrington x reader #Eddie Munson x reader #there's Steve stuff coming I promise #fem reader #stranger things fanfiction #three's company #my fic

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medusapelagia · 3 months ago

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25 The soulmates program

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Soulmates ) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: Scientists ) @aug-kissed (prompt: First Kiss) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: no one Words: 901

“So, in this experiment, we’re trying to determine if it’s possible to find the perfect soulmate without even knowing them. We interviewed all our volunteers and found a perfect couple. This experiment is the hardest we have ever made. Not only do the two candidates come from two very different social classes, but this is a homosexual couple.”

The audience gasps loudly.

“I must specify that one of the volunteers declared to be gay and the other was open to a homosexual relationship.” The scientists show a PowerPoint presentation pointing at some statistics, “As you can see they don’t have the same interests or hobbies, they live very different lives, but looking at the diagram you can see that they have the same opinions about relationship, friendship, and commitment. You can see that our first subject, Steve, gives very high importance to family and relationship and commitment, and our second subject, Eddie, is just a little bit under on the commitment but they have the same level of importance given to family and relationship. So they are here, after a few dates, to tell us how it worked out for them. Please welcome them.”

The two boys who get into the conference room couldn’t have been more different: one wears a shirt and a pullover over a pair of dark blue jeans, a pair of squared turtle glasses, and a very soft smile, the other is dressed all in black, with a leather jacket, a pair of high boots and some black jeans ripped at the knee revealing a huge skull tattooed on the right knee and black nail polish.

“So, Eddie and Steve, right?” The scientist asks, looking at his file.

“I’m Eddie. He’s Steve.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. So. How did our experiment go?” the man inquires with curiosity, pushing his glasses with one finger.

They both start talking at the same time, before laughing and begin a little dance of “You go first.” “No, you go first.”

In the end, it’s Steve who grabs the microphone, “Hi everyone. I’m Steve Harrington. I signed up for this experiment because I was tired of dating the wrong person and I thought that maybe someone who didn’t actually know me could help me understand what I was looking for.” he turns toward Eddie with a soft smile, “If it wasn’t for this experiment I don’t think I would have ever go out on a date with someone like Eddie. Nothing wrong with him, but as anyone can see we’re not exactly similar.” he chuckles before giving the microphone to Eddie.

“Yeah. That’s right. I would have never looked at someone like Steve to have a stable relationship. I mean, he doesn’t know Metallica and doesn’t play DnD which is like the first thing I ask everyone I date. But yeah. I signed up for this experiment to prove to my buddies that there’s no way you could find a soulmate thanks to some calculation and look at me! I’ll have to buy a lot of beers this year.” He smirks.

“So we must assume the experiment went well.”

Eddie and Steve share a look, “What do you say? Should we tell them?” Eddie asks, playing with a lock of hair.

“Tell us what?”

Steve beams when he grabs the microphone, “We’re engaged. We’re still working on the specifics, I live in Chicago he lives in Los Angeles, but yeah. We are going to get married.”

“That was unexpected, especially from you, Eddie. Weren’t you against marriage?”

“Have you seen him? Since the first time we kissed after our first formal date, I knew I couldn’t let him go.”

“Remind us of your first date. We sent you each other's description and asked you to meet at the local mall, isn’t that right?”

Steve brushes some hair away from his face, “When I saw the description I was really in doubt. I didn’t think Eddie could have been the right person for me, but I decided to give him a chance. We met at Starbucks. Drink a coffee or two and by the time we leave the coffee shop I was already in love.”

“I was lovestruck as well. Surprised that someone so hot was still single and looking for flaws I didn’t find, so we just chatted and as soon as we left the coffee shop we kissed. I think we both tasted like burned coffee but it was the best kiss I have ever had. And so here we are. Proving that the program can help you find your soulmate.”

The audience applauds, and then Steve and Eddie leave the conference room, hand in hand, until they are far enough from the conference room they look at each other, “What do you think?”

“They totally eat up all that shit. Great work Stevie.” Eddie replies, giving him a high-five.

“You weren’t half bad either, Munson.” Steve replies with a wink, “Now let's make sure they transfer the money to our bank accounts.”

“Can believe your parents agreed to our little plan.”

“It’s their program. They want people to believe they can actually find their soulmate thanks to this program so… it’s a win-win, right?”

“Still convinced about the wedding?”

“I always wanted a big ceremony. I can give you a couple of months of my life before asking for a divorce.” Steve winks, “Now let’s go. This place stinks of stupidity.”

#aug kissed #au gust #steddieangstyaugust #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #aug kissed 2024 #writing prompt #prompt challenge #fandom event #au gust 2024 #alternate universe #writing challenge #steddie event #stranger things #angst #angsty august

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tastefulstars · 2 years ago

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WANTED U

A night out on the town ended in the arms of two handsome strangers

eddie munson x f!reader x steve harrington

a/n: i was going to start the requests i have but.........wrote this instead :))))

warnings: 18+ only mdni. unsafe sex. oral (f receiving). dirty talk. eddie and steve are a little bit mean (only a little bit). over stimulation. multiple orgasms. piv & pia. dp. cream pies. comin' inside without asking. crying. aftercare. not proof read.

w/c: 2.5k

masterlist

The lights were low, music loud and you felt amazing.

You were pressed in amongst too many people, you sway and move to the music. Tipping your head back and you feel fingers trailing up your arm and you peer over your shoulder.

Warm brown eyes and soft fluffy hair and you shift slightly, pressing yourself against him and he holds your hips.

You dance with the handsome stranger for a while and before long, another joins the two of you.

You slide your hand up and tangle your fingers into the man pressed against your back and trail your other hand along the chest of the newcomer. He had curly hair tied up in a bun at the back of his head, tight shirt and tight jeans.

He was hot.

The guy pressed against your back was hot.

You move your hand upwards, cupping his cheek and drag your thumb along the soft, plump bottom lip.

Hands shift from your hips to wrap around your lower stomach, one travels higher and palms at your tit. Lips collide against the side of your neck and you sigh, tilting your head to allow better access.

You use your grip on the man's cheek to pull him in closer, his hips and lips press against yours and you're trapped between them.

The three of you sway together, hands and lips wandering.

You hum and sigh softly, tugging gently on the silk hair entwined between your fingers.

"Wanna get out of here?" You ask them, rolling your hips against them.

They wrap their hands around your forearms and tug you away from the dance floor.

The cool air of the night makes you whine and shiver, mouth watering as you take in the two men as they lead you to a car.

They're handsome in different ways. Curly Hair is all soft angles and gentle on the eyes, round nose and plump lips while Silky Hair is firmer, square jaw and sharp nose and eyebrows.

"God, you're both so hot" You moan.

"You can talk" Curly Hair groans, hands moving and gripping your hips.

You're pressed against their car and Curly Hair licks his way into your mouth and Silky Hair moans softly as he watches.

You slide your hands up his sides and grip the back of his neck, holding him firmly as you eagerly kiss him back.

The sound of a door slamming pulls you back and you break away from him, rolling your head and gazing at Silky Hair.

"So, where ya takin' me?" You murmur, sighing and tilting your head as Curly Hair places open, wet kisses against your throat.

"Gonna take you home and ruin you, sweet thing"

"I'll believe that when it happens"

Curly Hair grunts against your skin and peels himself away from you, reaching around you and yanking the door open. You're pushed inside and your skin feels too tight.

They tear out of the parking lot, you're impatient and you huff.

"Takin' too long" You groan.

Curly Hair turns and looks at you as you shove your hand down the front of your pants, fingers grazing against your clit.

"Steve, drive faster" He whimpers, swallowing hard.

You moan softly, pleasure tingles through you as you work yourself. You're desperate and when the car rolls to a stop, you whine.

"Wanted to cum" You pout, they drag you out of the car.

"Don't worry baby, we'll take care of you" Silky Hair, no, Steve says.

They lead you into their apartment, hands pawing at you and making you shake.

You're all but thrown down on the bed, hands everywhere - tugging at your shoes and pants and shirt. It doesn't take them long to strip you naked and Steve eagerly throws himself into eating your cunt.

He's talented, alternating between using broad flat strokes of his tongue and working the tip into your hole, twisting and curling inside you.

Curly Hair mouths at your tits, sucking bruises onto your soft skin and you knew you'd be covered in marks by the morning.

Steve shifts, his nose brushing at your clit as he tongue fucks you and you tremble. He moans against you and you feel the vibrations all the way up into your chest.

"Stevie loves eating pussy" Curly Hair murmurs against your skin, "If he could bury his face between your legs for hours, he would"

Another moan vibrates against you and you shudder, hips rocking upwards and you feel your breath catch in your throat.

"Wha- oh god, what's your name?" You gasp peering at Curly Hair, "Can't really moan Curly Hair while you fuck me"

He laughs and presses his lips against yours before peppering kisses down to your ear, whispering his name as he massages your tits.

Steve presses two fingers into your dripping hole beside his tongue fucking you and your thighs clench around his head.

"You're going to cum all over Steve's face, baby and then I'll fuck you" Eddie murmurs, voice rough and low and he reaches down to press his finger against your clit.

The combination of Steve and Eddie fingers and tongues has you crying out, clenching down and gushing. White spots fills your vision and your whole body tingles as you climax.

"Good girl"

Steve pulls away and leans towards Eddie, pressing his lips against his. Eddie moans softly, gripping his head and licking your slick from Steve's lower face.

They loose themselves for a moment and you watch as they devour each other, fingers traveling down your body to press into your cunt, gasping softly.

"Don't wanna wait, huh?" Eddie sneers at you as he pulls away from Steve.

He kneels between your legs and shoves your hand away.

"You're a fucking slut"

You whine and nod, planting your feet and raising your hips towards Eddie.

"Want you" You pant.

"I'm sure"

Eddie chuckles, shifting closer to you and wrapping a hand around the base of his cock. He presses the head of it against your clit before dipping it lower, stroking your folds and gathering your juices. Your hips twitch minutely with each pass and he groans, grabbing you and pressing in slowly. He watches as his dick disappears inside you, lips parted and moaning.

"Fuck" He grunts out as he buries himself inside you, "Fuck. You, so tight. Grippin' my dick so fucking well"

Your mind buzzes lightly and your eyes flutter as you revel in the burn as he stuffs you full of his cock. Steve's cupping your cheek and you pry your eyes open.

"Cock drunk already?" Steve asks, "You look so fuckin' beautiful with Eds cock buried in you"

You whine, rocking your hips and trying to fuck yourself on Eddie's cock. Eddie grips your hips tightly, fingers digging tightly into your flesh and pulling out of you until the very tip of his dick was resting inside you.

He tips his head back and slams inside you. Eddie's reaching deep inside you and the air is squeezed out of your lungs as he fucks you hard.

You gasp on each rough thrust, soft 'ah's' spilling from your lips and eyes rolling back. Your tits bounce as Eddie slams into you and Steve lowers his mouth and latches onto your neck, sucking his own marks onto your flesh.

"You feel so good" Eddie groans and you flutter around him at the praise.

"Oh, oh god. Wanna- wanna cum" You cry out.

Your body felt like it was on fire, burning up from the inside and you needed the sweet relief of your climax.

Steve reaches down, lips trailing against your skin, and presses his thumb firmly against your clit.

"Ah! Gonna, I'm-" You aren't able to finish your sentence, your orgasm crashing into you and making you shake.

They don't let up.

Eddie fucks you harder and Steve continues to press against your clit and you whine, it's all too much and you never want them to stop.

Steve nips at one of your hard nipples and a harsh moan is ripped from your throat as another orgasm tears through you. You clench down hard on Eddie's cock and he moans, hips stuttering and he presses firmly against you as he reaches his peak.

Eddie hangs his head back, his hair spilling over his shoulders, and he pants for a few moments before pushing you away from him and letting you drop onto the mattress.

His cum spills from your cunt and drips down onto the bed, your heart is beating fast and your legs feel like jelly.

Steve doesn't let you gather yourself, he sits with his back against the headboard and pulls at you until you lift yourself onto his lap.

"Fuck yourself on my cock" He instructs you.

You shudder and lower yourself, the combination of your slick and Eddie's seed ease the way and you slide down until you're sitting flush on Steve's lap.

Eddie moves and sits behind you, his chest pressed against your back and he gropes your tits, lips on your shoulder.

"I said, fuck yourself on my cock" Steve growls and you whimper, slick gushing down his cock.

You raise yourself shakily and lower yourself, whines and moans leaving your lips. You find a steady rhythm and it doesn't take you long to feel the needy desperation creep back into you.

You work yourself faster, rolling your hips and grinding down.

"That's it" Steve groans, hands coming to rest at your waist.

You throw your head back and rest it against Eddie's shoulder as you ride Steve, unable to focus on anything beyond your own pleasure and the big cock buried inside you.

"Good girl. You gonna be our good girl tonight?" Steve murmurs as you feel another orgasm building low in your stomach.

"Yes" You moan, "Yes, yes"

"You gonna do what we say?" Eddie adds and you nod furiously.

"Yes!"

"Yeah you will" Eddie praises you, voice soft and sweet, "You're our good little slut"

"Please, oh fuck. Please, please touch me"

Desperate words spill from your lips, needing just a little bit more to reach your peak.

"Only because you asked so nicely" Steve murmurs, hands shifting.

He presses two fingers against your clit and glides the other further down, easing a finger alongside his cock inside your cunt. The burn of it makes you cry out and you explode, weakly shuddering and collapsing against Steve's chest.

They hold you as you gasp for air, hands gently stroking your body.

"Fuck, can I?" Eddie asks, trailing a finger against your ass.

You whine and nod.

"Uh-uh" Eddie presses into your shoulder, "Need to hear you say it, baby. Use your words"

"Yes" You cry out, "Yes, please. Fuck, oh, fuck my ass"

Eddie shifts, his warmth leaving you and you almost sob, Steve holds you against his chest. His cock still buried deep inside your cunt.

Eddie returns quickly and you hear a cap clicking open. He's pressing a wet finger against your asshole and you relax against Steve, cheek pressed firmly against his chest.

"Mmm" You hum at the intrusion, feeling so full.

Fingers bury in your hair and you relax as best you can, taking everything they gave you. Eddie's slow, working you open carefully and stoking the fire of your desire.

Once he buries a third finger into your ass your mind is blank, body buzzing. You can feel drool dripping past your lips and you tremble.

"You ready?" Eddie asks softly, curling his fingers inside you and making you moan.

"Please, please" You sob, tears welling in your eyes, "Need you, need you both please"

Steve cups your cheek and raised your face, pressing kisses onto your skin.

"Shh, we've got you" He murmurs against your lips.

Eddie presses against your back and you feel the stretch as he presses into your ass. You heave a sob and drop your head, shaking at the feeling of being completely full.

He takes it slow, pressing his cock into you and stilling once he's buried to the hilt.

They hold you between them, waiting for you to adjust.

Your nails rake at Steve's chest and you feel the tears spilling, wetting your lashes and dripping down your cheeks. You were so full, so complete.

"You all good, baby girl?"

"Yes" You sob, raising your head slightly and gasping.

"Oh look at you," Steve coos, brushing his thumb across your cheek and smearing your tears, "You look so damn pretty crying on our cocks"

Eddie shifts slightly and you cry out, whimpering and fresh tears spilling. You mindlessly babble, words tripping out of your mouth and you can't.

Your world had been reduced to the feeling of Steve and Eddie's cocks buried inside you.

"Please so good please 'm so full you both feel so good need you please please"

Steve rocks up and Eddie pulls back and they work in sync, one pulling out as the other pushes in. They make sure you've always got a cock pressed deep inside you and clinging to them and taking it is all you can do.

"God, Steve-" Eddie groans, "Can feel you"

He shudders against your back and you whine softly, tears and drool dropping onto Steve's chest.

"Fuck. Not gonna last much longer" Eddie grunts, thrusting a little bit quicker.

Steve's breathing hard and you can feel his heart pounding against your cheek, can feel the soft vibrations as he moans.

"'m close" He says, "Want her to cum first"

Eddie shoves his hand between you and Steve, pressing against your sensitive clit and it only takes a few swipes before you're clenching down on them both and screaming. It's intense, explosions of fireworks under your skin and your vision blacks out.

You go limp against them and tremble as you're fucked through your orgasm.

Eddie shouts behind you, slowing to a stop as he comes down from his own climax. Steve thrusts up a few more times before he's throwing his head back, spilling deep inside you.

Your mind drifts in the pleasure, riding the waves of your over stimulation and multiple orgasms. Tears continue to leak from behind your closed eyes, soft hiccuping sobs spill from your lips. You can't move or open your eyes and you feel yourself being lifted, gently lowered onto the bed.

You feel a rag being dragged over your ass and cunt and thighs.

You feel a hand stroking your back, another wiping your cheeks and drying your tears. You feel hands pulling you into a sitting position and you whimper.

"Have a little bit of water, honey"

A hand cups your jaw and you feel a glass pressed against your lips, you part them and sip at the offered water before slumping back down.

You shake as they tuck you into bed, curling around you and holding you tightly between them.

"You did so good"

"You're amazing, darling. Gonna keep you, perfect for us"

"Sleep, baby. We'll take care of you"

Your mind drifts in nothingness and you feel warmth surrounding you, comforting you into a sense of safety and security.

You slip into a dreamless sleep with the promise of more washing over you.

#stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #steddie x you #steddie x reader #i:my writing

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biasbuck · 3 months ago

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BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fridays

Happy Friday everyone! What a couple of weeks huh? We're so back etc. I've still not recovered from the blooper and bts blessings. But I'm back again with another round of the fic I've been reading so far this month! You can find previous rec lists here.

9 August 2024

i'm here with the door wide open by @eddiebabygirldiaz oh my god the YEARNING in this fic. I actually wailed when I got to the end. Eddie POV, he's struggling with the silence with Chris gone, and the absence of the life and noise that he's so used to in his home. Through it all, Buck is there, sweet, supportive, vibrant and loud in his presence. Eddie tentatively comes to listen to what's not being said out loud. I absolutely adored the delicate hand held out to all the relationships here, and the beautiful imagery in the writing. But mostly the intimacy which struck me so deeply. Love is indeed stored in the kitchen. Just gorgeous.

in love with every song you've ever heard by @timeshareindestin I'm so glad I saw the beautiful art of hard of hearing Buck and his firetruck red hearing aids, because it led me to read this wonderful fic, in which he grapples with the disability he suppressed as a child, and realises that the family he craves has been there for him all along. This is an emotional read, and I particularly loved the flashbacks to his childhood and Maddie's support, as well as the realisation that he can be brave and vouch for himself with people fighting his corner.

Operation: Keep Eddie Diaz Busy and Annoyed by @gigi-gigi 'the one where Buck forces Eddie to keep busy while Chris is gone, but ends up catching a bad case of The Feelings in the middle of Eddie learning to love pickling things to irritate Chim and charming old ladies through square dancing.' THE FLIRTING. Dear god the flirting. Just delightful.

where the tumbleweeds blow by @tallahasseemp3 a buddie road trip fic! In which Eddie goes home to Texas. Buck follows. Along the way, they find each other. The perfect thing to read after the deleted Christopher and Eddie scene, with them learning to find their feet with each other whilst Eddie also learns to trust himself with Buck, and establish boundaries and a new understanding with his own parents. Such great family dynamic examination.

free mustache rides by @standback ALL HAIL MOUSTACHEDDIE SMUT!! 'Eddie comes back after two weeks in Texas with a) Christopher, b) a tan, and c) a mustache.' In which Eddie is flirtatious and a bit smug about the effect he's having, whilst Buck is entirely mesmerised, and needs to sit on his face about it. Funny and hot.

Safe for Work by @911-alsaurus continuing with the funny and hot theme, Al's specialty, in which touch starved Buck looks for some way to alleviate his cravings, and 'Eddie offers to be Buck's official head scratcher, shoulder massager, and general tactile needs provider. It's a really normal thing for friends to do. Surely.' Featuring an excellent Chim cameo.

Paint Me in Neon and Make Me Glow by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels HELLO exhibitionist streak Buck 5+1 hot as hell buck tommy fic. Truly Lincoln writes their dynamic in such a fun way, I love how tongue in cheek teasing Tommy is and how playful and intrigued Buck is here, whilst being extremely turned on. Kink exploration that ups the ante with each new tentative discovery. There's no room to be shy!

Every Day You’ll Still Show Up by @bluflamingo was a really nicely characterised buck tommy fic, an emotional oneshot in which they're early days boyfriends set close to S7 canon, learning to comfort each other when Buck returns after a bad call. There was a gentleness to this that I could genuinely see slotting into the show, and I really liked that it was a regular call out that went wrong rather than a massive catastrophe.

PS - once again sending out the signal to ask if you have any henren authors/fic recs I should check out PLEASE let me know! Have you SEEN S8 Hen's arms in those tank tops? Dear lord. Help a lesbian out?

#biasbuck recs #biasbuck watches 911 #911 ficrec #911 fic

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bucktommypositivityweek · 2 months ago

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bucktommy positivity week fanfiction roundup! - part 1

we're so excited to be officially sharing the roundup of all the amazing fic shared during bucktommy positivity week! we had well over a hundred submissions, and we really hope everyone will go comment positively on all these amazing works! this post contains the fics from days 1-3 and will be followed with another post containing days 4-7.

note: we also had a few amazing submissions of things like art, gifs and headcanons! this masterlist is solely for fic but you can find the other creations at these tag links: art | posts | gifs | other

(if we've missed your submission, it is absolutely not intentional so please send a message and we will rectify it immediately 🧡)

MASTERLIST UNDER THE CUT

day one - what they love about each other

How Do I Love Thee by emquin

A sweet moment between Buck and Tommy where Buck gets to tell Tommy what he likes about him.

A Glutton for Evan by LadyEyre

Tommy Kinard loves Evan Buckley so much it scares him.

The Brightest Blue by vamphigherqueen

Buck gives Tommy a creative gift to help them feel closer to one another.

The Little Things (My Baby Does) by jamesandanthony

Evan's hands slip into the back pockets of Tommy's jeans, squeezing his ass through the denim. There’s a rustling as he seems to find something in one of the pockets and suddenly he's pulling away, confusion writ across his flushed cheeks as he holds up a yellow square of paper between them. “What's this?” he asks, tilting his head; funnily enough, the confused head tilt had been on Tommy’s list the day before. “Uhh,” Tommy responds eloquently, feeling a little like a deer caught in the headlights.

hey kids, spelling is fun! by judymarch15

Buck gets an idea for a cute activity he and Tommy can do together.

Unlock my Heart by 30somethingAutisticTeacher

Devout by writerdot

He loves this. He loves everything about Tommy, but this... It’s the way he got to come to Tommy’s house, which feels far more like home than his loft ever has. It’s the way Tommy was excited to see him, it’s the way he fills him, covers him, kisses him, and touches him...it’s almost sublime. Every aspect of their relationship is something to be savored.

all that you are to me by aringofsalt

“You guys are ridiculous,” he heard Eddie say, but his tone was fond. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” A chair scraping against the floor and a quiet thunk against the phone’s microphone suggested that Evan had sat down. There was silence for a minute before Eddie spoke again, dishes clinking in the background. “Honestly, though, Buck, you’re the happiest I’ve ever seen you when you’re with him, you know?” “Really?” — buck doesn't hang up the phone properly and tommy gets to hear what he really thinks of him.

My favorite things about you by tommykinardbuckley

Part of the Greatest Love Story by RacerChix21

Confessions get made when Buck and Tommy start slow dancing on a slow Saturday night shift.

We'll be alright by TillyReads

The Most Important Meal of the Day by nine_one_wanton

Buck and Tommy grab breakfast at their local diner, and Buck has a very important question for Tommy!

Capital L Love by apartmentsmoke

Buck falls in love with Tommy one moment at a time.

tiebreaker by foxaquatica

Buck and Tommy get pulled into a couples quiz to solve a tiebreaker at Trivia Night.

two souls meet by kneazle_slytuff

Tommy didn't believe in soulmates, until Evan Buckley came into his life.

Just The Way You Are by words_in_starless_skies

The things Buck and Tommy love most about each other - ironically - are the things they are most insecure about.

In Midnights, In Cups of Coffee by waitingtobelit

Movie nights are mostly held at Tommy’s place for several reasons. Mostly, though, Buck gravitates towards Tommy’s house more and more these days because Tommy’s house feels more like home. He loves cuddling with Tommy on the couch, the two of them sharing a couple of beers and some popcorn, and sometimes a blanket thrown over them. Honestly? Movie nights with Tommy might be Buck’s favorite place in the world. -- Buck and Tommy watch Rent together and have a lot of feelings about it and each other.

all the little pieces of you by talktonytome

That's the thing about Tommy. Every time they go out, it never fails that someone will flirt with him, ogle him, ask him for help with something, offer things "on the house"- really nothing short of someone handing him their baby like he's the pope or something. You'd think Buck would feel jealous and okay, maybe he does but--

The Sweetest Things (BuckTommy Positivity Week 2024) by rosyhoneydew - also for day 2

a pair of hands, a pair of lips by epiphainie

A study of hands; a study of lips.

Pardon my french! - A bucktommy positivity week adventure by marvelousbuckley - also for days 2 & 3

Tommy knows how to speak French. It leaves Evan bothered and bewildered.

For he loves against his will by Daughter_of_Scotland - chapter one

Snippets of Buck and Tommy, a year into their relationship.

I love You, Easily by BangPop91 - also for days 2-7

This is a series of loosely connected stories about Tevan following the different prompts.

What I Like About You by Sagasimon

One day Buck just starts to randomly list the things he loves most about his bf. Tommy is confusion.

what if its meant to be? by reyesdiaz (whateverthecalamity) - also for days 2-7

Evan loves Tommy because he cares, so deeply, about Evan’s happiness. He’s never had someone who cared that much; never had someone who did this; someone who saw his pain and his dark days and how hard it is sometimes for him to crawl out of the sheets. Someone who didn’t loosen their grip on his hand, but just held it tighter and said 'I’ll help you carry the load. However I can.' Or; seven standalone ficlets for BuckTommy Positivity Week, to celebrate the love shared between our boys, and in our fandom.

parts by hardly-an-escape

day two - nicknames and terms of endearment

Until Then... by V88SY

Tommy will sometimes say one thing, when what he really wants to say is something else entirely.

Wann? (When?) by NeverlandPoet

Buck ponders a pet name for Tommy, but maybe his boyfriend beats him to it...

It's a Pet Name When You Say it by LadyEyre

Buck and Tommy discuss past nicknames and their preferred pet names while enjoying a quiet summer evening in each other's company.

Sunshine by TillyReads

Buck wants a nickname for Tommy that only he uses

what’s my name again? by judymarch15

While playing a friendly game of touch football on Thanksgiving with Tommy and the 118, Buck hits his head and forgets some important information.

Promise You'll Always be Mine by 30somethingAutisticTeacher

With just 2 letters Tommy makes Buck believe in forever.

mio caro by talktonytome

Love in the Name by writerdot

The progression of Buck and Tommy's relationship through pet names.

Honey Bunny by nine_one_wanton

Eddie and Chim overhear the end of a phone conversation between Buck and Tommy. They have questions, but are they ready for the answers?

endearing blush by kneazle_slytuff

Buck settles into their relationship and begins not to blush as much, but Tommy comes up with a way to fix that.

stud by foxaquatica

Buck ponders pet names, and texts Tommy about it.

My Name Sounds Like Heaven On Your Lips by RacerChix21

“Because when you use my name it’s like it finally fits and makes sense. You say it with love and adoration. You say it and I feel like I’m flying. The way you say it when you stay up for hours after your shift ends and you’re sleepy but you don’t wanna miss getting to greet me when I come home. It’s mumbled but filled with so much love that I can’t help but fall even I’m more in love with you.” Aka the one where Tommy wants to give Buck a pet name or at least a nickname without realizing he doesn’t need one from Tommy to feel loved or cherished

Us, The Old Men by tetehburjo

“I still can’t believe you called me an old man when you’re seven years older than me. I’m the one who should call you old man.” Tommy raised an eyebrow, “You can, in thirty years.”

What's In A Name by emquin

Buck didn't like his name and definitely didn't like other cutesy nicknames…at least not until Tommy uses them

Baby One More Time by words_in_starless_skies

Three times Tommy calls Buck "baby".

Build Me Up by waitingtobelit

“If I’m your honey does that make you my Pooh Bear?” Evan asks around a mouthful of waffle, whipped cream, and strawberries, trying to pull of innocence but failing in the way his eyes light up in clear amusement and the corners of his mouth keep twitching upwards around his food. It also doesn’t help his case that he has whipped cream and strawberry sauce all over his chin. He’s adorable like this, and he damn well knows it; Tommy doesn’t miss the roll of his shoulders as he preens. He’s an absolute menace. -- Buck teases Tommy with various terms of endearment until Tommy catches him by surprise. In the end, they both render each other speechless.

Tesoro by RiNew1717

“What does Tesoro mean?” It was one of his favorite things about Evan. He will endlessly research his fun facts, but his preferred method of learning things is by hearing it from those he loves. Tommy is still occasionally misty eyed when he remembers that list of individuals now includes him. He smiles and bites his bottom lip. It can be intimidating too at times. He’s not asking just to be polite or to make conversation. Tommy’s never had a partner that wants to know him like Evan does.

The D Word by Sagasimon

Buck really, really wants to call Tommy “Daddy” but would Tommy actually be into that, or was that dinner comment just a silly joke to lighten up the mood?

From Small Things (Big Things One Day Come) by jamesandanthony

“It’s not just that you know,” Buck says suddenly, remembering the reason they’d gotten into all of this in the first place. “That you’re hot.” “Hmm?” Tommy raises his head to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Why I let you call me Evan,” Buck explains. “I mean, you are hot, obviously, god knows I know that, but that’s not why.” “Why then?” Tommy asks, smiling softly at him, eyes crinkling with amusement.

naming conventions by hardly-an-escape

day three - meeting the friends and family

Jack's Guide to Meeting Tommy's Boyfriend by talktonytome

Beloved original character Jack returns to give Tommy more grief- Meeting the boyfriend edition. Jack ends up meeting Evan before their next trivia night. He’s absolutely sure his car’s making a funny noise and comes up with the absolutely brilliant idea to take it over to Tommy’s so he can check it out, on a day he knows Evan will be there. He does have a car lift, after all. If his regular car shop checked it over, when he took it in for an oil change last week, well that’s nobody’s business but his own.

Linda and Connie by judymarch15

Buck meets Tommy’s mom and step-mom.

Take Good Care of My Baby by 30somethingAutisticTeacher

Buck meets the most important woman in Tommy's life.

Intentions by nine_one_wanton

When Tommy imagined spending time with Evan’s sister, he’d always imagined having Howie there as a buffer. Now that Howie’s illness has temporarily removed him from the equation, Tommy finds himself slightly intimidated having to interact with her one-on-one. When Tommy imagined spending time with Evan’s sister, he’d always imagined having Howie there as a buffer. Now that Howie’s illness has temporarily removed him from the equation, Tommy finds himself slightly intimidated having to interact with her one-on-one.

allen wrenches and hallmark movies by judymarch15

Tommy goes over to Maddie’s to help her build some furniture and they have a chance to bond.

Meeting the 217 by kneazle_slytuff

Tommy never willingly introduced any of his partners to his coworkers, until Buck that is.

Meeting the family by TillyReads

5 Times Tommy meets a member of Buck's family and one time Buck meets a member of theirs

These are my people by RacerChix21

Buck meets Tommy’s Nonna Carmelina & his mother Andriana and learns exactly why Tommy is so damn perfect.

requiem by foxaquatica

Tommy gets a phone call, three days later Buck & Tommy are in Reno at his fathers funeral.

Meeting the parents (and forgetting about it) by TimeOfYourLife

Tommy meets Buck's parents at Maddie and Chimney's wedding. It goes better than expected, but his tired brain forgets it.

Uncle Tommy Begins by tetehburjo

Look at what you did, she even used four pleese, he typed. A moment later, his phone pinged with a reply from Tommy: Be ready to be Jee’s second favorite uncle, babe. With a winking face emoji next to it. or Tommy met Jee-Yun for the first time.

Meeting The Parents by emquin

They liked Tommy. It was strange because Buck hadn’t expected them to.

Meeting the family by tommykinardbuckley

Déjà vu by Sagasimon

Buck meets Tommy’s step sister for the first time. A little parallel to a certain other scene from the show.

Plan Meet Enemy by LadyEyre

The only good thing about this entire situation was how good Evan looked in a suit, Tommy mused as they climbed out of their Uber in front of the church steps. Tommy paused to admire his boyfriend’s long legs and broad shoulders, which probably wasn’t the most appropriate thing to be doing immediately before his grandmother’s funeral, but Tommy was only human. “You good?” Evan asked, buttoning his suit jacket and smoothing his hands down his thighs. “Nervous?” Tommy asked in order to avoid answering. “Well, I am technically meeting your family today,” said Evan. He squared his shoulders and eyed the church as though it were a five-alarm fire.

spicy cupcakes by hardly-an-escape

post with days 4-7

#bucktommypositivityweek #bucktommy #bucktommy fandom events #911 abc #bucktommy fic

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