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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 month

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [4.2K] loosely based on the movie float, lifeguard!steve, a summer full of swim lessons. mentions of drowning, eventual smut 18+

SWIM LESSON SCHEDULE

LESSON #1

“Oh, come on,” the guy coaxed, voice wheedling and a little slurred.

You didn’t really know him, a friend of a friend's cousin who was visiting from out of town but he’d been cute enough to entertain five beers ago. He’d grown sloppier now, a little leery, his hand around your wrist as he udder you towards the dock that overlooked Lover’s Lake.

You’d dug your heels in, smiling through your teeth as you shook your head and tried not to spill the cheap wine Robin had brought down the front of your shirt. The small beach that was hidden in a cove was surrounded by trees, green in the summer, full and making the crescent moon strip of land perfect for a bonfire and for some drinking.

There were small crowds of people all over the sandy patch, sitting on blankets and cheap camping chairs, familiar faces lit by the small fire, people you didn’t know as well lingering between, bare feet on the edge of the shoreline.

You’d came with Eddie, riding in the front seat of his van with a rucksack full of corner store liquor on your lap, the smell of weed coming off strong from the pocket inside his leather jacket.

“A night full of potential clients, sweetheart, please,” he’d pleaded with you, brown button eyes wide. “The Jacksons have their cousins over from the backass of Georgia, they’ll pay for the rest of our summer if I show them the good shit.”

So you’d agreed, albeit grudgingly, letting your best friend haul you off your sofa and to the get together that you didn’t really want to go to. But Robin was there, and Nancy too, a few people you hadn’t seen since senior year, back for the summer to visit their folks and well - it wasn't all bad.

Then the evening faded into night and the lavender skies turned inky, the same shade as the lake water. And when people got a little looser, whisky and bud light warming their veins, they laughed as they stripped down to mismatched underwear and dove off the dock, splashing and shrieking in water you couldn’t see the bottom of and god—

You’d, grimaced, turning away from the shoreline and sticking close to Eddie, the boy’s arm always brushing your own even when he was busy dealing, twenties fisted in his hand as he passed over baggies to a twenty something girl you’d never seen before.

But then that guy found you, relatively sober and sweet until he wasn’t, sloppy with his arm around your neck, breath smelling like smoke and beer and he was pulling you towards the people in the water, telling you it was all part of the fun. You’d protested immediately, intensely, eyes wide as the water came closer and your feet hit the wooden planks of the dock.

Between the gaps, you could see black, dark water rippling, the moon overhead glinting white off the tips of the current. Eddie hadn’t noticed you were gone until the stranger had dragged you half way down the decking. Your wrist burned from how tight he held it, how hard you tried to twist it from his grasp.

“Hey— hey!” Eddie had barked out, loud and brash and aggressive enough to make a lot of people around him startle. He broke free from the circle that had gathered around him, lips set in a snarl and determination in his eyes. You knew fine well that when Eddie got his hands on this guy, it wasn’t going to be pretty. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Let her fucking go—”

But Eddie couldn’t reach you in time, not when his boots dug too deep into the sand and there were too many people to push out of the way. The guy laughed at a joke you weren’t a part of and then he pushed.

Your arms swung wildly, windmilling as gravity took over, your balance gone and you were too near the edge of the dock to do anything about it. Your hands grabbed at the air, fingertips just brushing your new acquaintances shirt and his grinning face and beer blurred eyes were the last thing you saw before you back hit the water.

It was as dark underneath the surface of the lake as it was above it, an icy shock despite how warm the day had been, how the heat still lingered in the night. You gasped, immediately inhaling, murky water filling your mouth and throat and you kicked, hoping that the direction your hands were clawing in was up.

But nothing happened and your body didn’t move.

On the beach, people were murmuring, too drunk to consider the consequences, too stoned to fly into action. Besides, only seconds had passed. Bubbles were floating in the spot you’d gone under, ripples evidence of the fact that you’d once been there. Eddie was sweating, shoving at people as he ripped off his leather jacket and prepared to vault himself onto the water after you but someone at the bottom of the deck beat him to it.

Steve Harrington had dropped his beer at the first sign of the commotion, his part in the conversation with Jonathan Byers and his friend from California dying off as he turned to watch a guy he didn’t know drag you down the dock. The stranger had been laughing but you hadn’t, and before he could say something, Steve only had a second to look at the absolute horror on your face before you were forced backwards and into the lake.

He was on his feet immediately, facing back up the dock to where you’d disappeared from, watching wildly for signs of you returning to the surface. And then Eddie was yelling at him, pushing past some underage kids from out of town, half of his jacket hanging from his shoulders and he was yelling.

“Steve! Steve, she can’t fuckin’ swim, man—”

If Eddie finished the sentence or said anything else, Steve didn’t hear it. He launched himself off of the side, hitting the cold water with a splash he didn’t hear. Water filled his ears and fuck, he could barely see. But somewhere a little below him there was a flash of white from your shirt that had tangled itself up around your neck, your arms flailing wildly as you tried your damn hardest to kick up the way.

Steve had grabbed your arm, your panic making you slip before he curled his fingers around your wrist and then you were being hauled against him, your back to his chest as he moved with a confidence you could never imagine for yourself. You’d been under for a minute, maybe a little more, maybe a little less, but Steve had your head breaking the surface of the lake in seconds. You were gasping and coughing, your fingernails tattooing half moon lines in Steve’s forearm as you held onto him, fear gripping you as hard as you did him.

You thought you’d heard his voice, a low murmur in your ear that was fuzzy from the water lodged there, from the buzz and clamour that had then awoken on the beach as the music stopped and people were gathered by the shoreline.

Eddie had been knee deep in the water, readily meeting you and Steve as the boy swam closer with you, and once your feet hit the sandy bottom, you lurched forward, hands held out to grab Eddie’s waiting ones.

Steve’s were on your back, keeping you upright and steady until he saw that Eddie had you. You and Steve were both dripping and Eddie was swearing, his cheeks red and his eyes wide, unsure whether to rush you to his van first or hunt down the creep that had put you in danger in the first place.

But Nancy was rushing forward with a blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders and taking in your chattering teeth and panicked stare, the vice-like grip you had around Eddie’s fingers. “He’s gone,” she said to the boy. “He ran off when he saw Steve dive in. Just get her home, Eddie.”

Steve Harrington had ended up in the front bench with you in Eddie’s van, your shivering frame sandwiched between both boy’s and no one said anything until you all got back to Eddie’s trailer.

You hadn’t said anything as you’d headed for a hot shower, your wet clothes slapping on the bathroom tiles as you had stripped, slimy weeds and grains of sand stuck to your cold skin and your hands were still shaking as you twisted the squeaky handle to turn the water up hotter still.

And when Eddie was ripping his room apart for dry clothes for you and Steve to change into, his eyes watery with anger, his throat tight with rage, Steve had been leaning against his door frame with his arms crossed over his damp chest.

“We’ll get him,” he’d said quietly, just in case you could hear above the spluttering of the old pipes. “We’ll find out who he was and— and we’ll deal with him and then I’m gonna teach her how to swim, alright?”

Eddie nodded, movements sharp and jerky and he handed Steve a pair of black sweatpants and an old Metallica shirt.

“Alright?” Steve had repeated, chin ducked to make Eddie meet his gaze. He had been so serious. “I’m gonna give her lessons. This won’t happen again.”

The sky was still half pink as you biked down the empty sidewalk.

A blue-lilac colour, softer than you’d usually witness due to the early morning hour. The sun was still low, the town still asleep, the watch on your wrist telling you the seven am was still to come. Your bike chain whirred softly, brakes squeaking as you slowed by the chain link fence.

Hawkins community pool was sun bleached and well loved, the old bunting that draped over the water barely red and blue, the shutters for the food stand still rolled down and locked. The aquamarine slide was now more white and it looked like it would give you an infection if your skin was to snag on one of the exposed bolts. But the gate was open, only just, and you sucked in a deep breath as you let your bike lean against the wall.

Chlorine filled your nose as you walked in, the generator humming and the pool filter trickling, the sun loungers empty and still stacked against the changing rooms. Despite your early wake up call, the air was already warm, a humid kind of heat that Indiana summers brought, sticky and sweet smelling, like someone had left a jug of peach tea on their porch all day.

The tiles that surrounded the pool were wet, recently hosed down and cleaned, and your sneakers slapped noisily as you walked towards the waters edge. You didn’t go too close, not at all, grimacing at the bright blue rectangle like it would force you in itself. It seemed somehow more menacing when it was still, a glasslike surface reflecting the cotton candy sky above it, no splashing and screaming kids to fill its depths.

Then a boy appeared - no, more man than boy - from the staff building.

He had red shorts on, the fabric sitting above his knees and an old white shirt that you assumed must’ve once said “lifeguard.” He was barefoot and tanned, sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and he didn’t even notice you at first, too busy hanging a net back onto the wall.

Steve Harrington was pretty and tall and he had really good hair. He was quieter than when you’d know him in high school, softer looking than he’d once been. But you didn’t really know him and he didn’t really know you. But he was friends with Eddie and you were friends with Eddie, so somehow, someway, that meant you were kind of, almost friends with him too.

Except you weren’t and you had no idea why you’d agreed to this.

“You can change in there.”

You hadn’t expected his voice, so you startled, arms wrapping tighter around your body and crushing the small rucksack that housed your suit and towel. You frowned at the idea, because changing meant one step closer to going into the water and you weren’t quite sure you wanted to do that yet.

So you said nothing.

Steve just watched you from across the pool, brows raised. And then he shrugged and muttered something that sounded like “suit yourself,” before he threw his sunglasses onto a plastic chair and tugged his shirt over his head.

You’d barely gotten a chance to really look at the quick flash of tanned, bare skin he exposed before he dove into the water, barely causing a ripple. You were slack jawed as you watched him move seamlessly below the surface, his body a pretty shade of blue as his muscles flexed, strong back and broad shoulders stretching as he swam.

When he reappeared, much closer to you, Steve braced his forearms on the edge of the pool and dragged a hand through his wet hair, strands of it plastered to his forehead, water clinging to his lashes.

You didn’t know where to look.

“You’re not going to learn much if you don’t take your clothes off.”

Despite the way his words warmed you, skin heating up the same way the morning was, you scowled. You didn’t want to be here. Not at the pool, not around water, not with Steve Harrington and certainly not at seven in the morning on a Saturday.

And now you were standing under the morning sun and the same boy that saved you from the lake was squinting up at you from the pool below and you were only really here because Eddie had begged you.

It had been a whole week and you could still taste lake water on the back of your tongue.

“Changing rooms are over there,” Steve motioned to the building behind you with a tilt of his head.

You tried not to look at him, or the water, when you nodded tightly, dragging yourself off to the ladies section. And when you came back out, the sun had risen just a little more and Steve was still in the pool, floating easily on his back as he used his arms to move slowly around the water. The rays were glinting off of the water and him, toned shoulders and soft stomach glittering with water droplets and suddenly the pool seemed an even scarier place to be.

The old swimsuit you’d managed to pull on was a little on the tight side, all black and supposed to be modest if the too small size hasn’t been cutting into the swells of your ass and chest. It had been a good few years since you’d had reason to put it on, and even then, you hadn’t gone near water. A beach day on the Fourth of July with enough space between you and the ocean that you hadn’t even minded the sand too much.

So you stood with your arms crossed over your chest, trying to hide the expanse of skin there, your knees pressed together and you looked downright mournful about your current predicament. If Steve hadn’t remembered the fear in your eyes that night in the lake as you scrambled for him under the water, he would’ve cracked a joke or two.

Instead, he swam over to you cautiously, fingers curling around the edge of the pool as he swiped his wet hair from his forehead. “Hey,” he began gently. The town still hadn’t woken up yet, not really. It was just Steve’s voice and the hum of the pool filter, some cicadas buzzing in a bush behind the far side of the fence. “Nothing bad is going to happen, alright? Not here.”

You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, eyes wide and lips drawn into a tight line. You didn’t move an inch. And it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him, not really. You were exactly friends but Steve was close with Eddie and if Eddie trusted him— well. He got an automatic pass from you too.

Eddie didn’t trust a whole lot of people.

But the problem wasn’t Steve. It was most definitely the rectangle full of blue water, shimmering and pretty as it was, it looked deep, the slope of it going downdowndown and Steve’s body was distorted under the ripples, his legs looking broken and mangled, the surface lapping way too high across his shoulders and neck.

Your body felt like lead, a dead weight ready to sink to the pool floor, legs unable to push yourself back up.

You took a step back.

“Okay,” Steve sighed and he tried really hard to not sound impatient. The day had barely begun and he’d make a promise to Eddie, one he really didn’t want to break. “We’ll take it back a little, yeah? Come over here.”

You watched as he pulled himself out of the pool with an impressively low amount of effort. The muscles in his shoulders and back bunched up and he swung a leg onto the tiles before standing, water dripping off of him, cool and splashing your toes. He made a point of not looking at your and all your bare skin as he walked around the edge of the pool, right towards the back of the lot where there was a set of stairs that led into the shallow end.

He didn’t look over his shoulder to check if you were following and you only hesitated for a second or two before you did. And when he reached the top of the steps, he waited for you and held out his hand, brows raised expectantly.

You stared back.

The water didn’t look as scary here, but not by a whole bunch. It was lighter blue, the white tiles on the bottom of the pool about more visible and the numbers that were flaking and painted on the side of the wall said the depth was only two and a half feet.

You could drown in less, the voice in your head told you. It sounded a lot like your mom.

So you kept your arms crossed for a little while longer, teeth gnawing unkindly at your bottom lip. Steve just waited, hand extended palm up and after a minute had passed, he took one step into the pool, standing ankle deep in the water on the top stair. He caught your eye then, smiling in what he hope was a reassuring way.

“D’you trust me?” He asked, eyes squinting in the bright sun. There was a mole on his cheek that disappeared into the lines of his skin when he smiled. “S’okay if you don’t yet, but, I’m a lifeguard here, so like, legally? I can’t let you die.”

You surprised both yourself and the boy when you snorted unexpectedly, a sharp sound of amusement that you used a hand to cover up. But it seemed to encourage Steve, ‘cause he positively beamed at you, his hand wiggling, vying for your own.

“C’mon, I promise I won’t let you go,” he swore. He leaned further forward, his fingers close enough to brush the softness of your stomach, if he so pleased. He didn’t. “We’ll start nice and easy today, alright?”

It felt momentous, when you slid your hand into his. He was still warm despite his pool damp skin, like the sun lived inside his bones. He grinned, victorious, nodding encouragingly when you moved to the edge of the steps.

“We’ll do them one at a time, alright?” Steve moved to stand in front of you, his other hand catching your free one until he was guiding you closer and closer to the water, walking himself backwards with every step you took forward. You flinched when your foot hit the first step, the water warmer than you’d anticipated, brushing up just past your ankle.

You had two feet in the pool and two hands in Steve Harrington’s and it felt like the entire world was about to implode on you.

“There you go,” Steve murmured, warmth and a little hum of pride in his voice. “See? S’not bad, right? I’ve still got you.” So you took another step and another and suddenly the water was lapping at your knees. You froze, grip tightening around Steve’s fingers and your wide eyes found his, all too aware of the way you were very much in the pool now.

“Hey, hey,” Steve’s thumbs rubbed over the back of your knuckles, the skin there burning from holding him so tightly. “Listen. Do you trust me?”

There was no joke that followed the question this time. His eyes were earnest and warm, serious as they looked at you, searching your face for any signs that you were going to flee. It took you a few seconds, swallowing dryly and taking a deep, staggering breath before you nodded. You did, you did trust him, and that was as surprising as you being in the pool.

“Yeah,” you told Steve, voice a little weak and hoarse. “Yeah, I trust you.”

He squeezed your fingers and his smile was gentle, an achingly kind thing that made your eyes water in the corners and Steve let you stand on that middle step for a little while longer. “Good,” he finally said and his voice was as soft as yours had been. You tried not to look at the way the chain around his throat caught the sunlight, the silver turning golden, just like his skin. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?”

You nodded, feverish and your movements jagged and you tore your eyes from Steve to look at your bare feet on the steps, your toes waving under the ripples, longer and skinnier and then fatter and wider. The sight made you dizzy, stomach tumbling a little but even still, you wished you’d had the forethought to paint your toenails something pretty.

“Two more steps, alright?”

Steve’s encouragement broke your senseless wanderings and you nodded again, words caught in your throat and he was leading you forward, hands wrapped around your own and he grinned when you took another step down, the water hitting your upper thighs. It was cooler as you went deeper, a stark contrast to the warm, sticky air above it and your skin prickled, mouth falling in a quiet gasp. Another step, happening almost too fast for you to overthink it, the water at your hips and making you swear as you rose onto your toes almost instinctively.

Steve laughed, not unkindly, as you moved closer to him, unthinking as your hands left his in favour of clinging to his upper arms. It felt safer like that, anchoring yourself to his solid frame, but there was so much bare skin involved and not a lot of space left between you both as you held on for dear life. His fingertips brushed the sides of your waist before he must’ve thought better of it, cheeks burning before his hands cupped your elbows and he took a little step back so your chest didn’t touch his.

“You’re alright,” he murmured. “You did it, yeah? That’s it. You’re in.”

Steve was grinning and you tried to smile too, trying to feel proud of your little accomplishment but the rest of the pool was stretched out behind Steve’s shoulder and the water there was so much more blue, cerulean leading into indigo until you couldn’t see the bottom anymore.

Steve must’ve noticed cause he shook his head, the hand cupping your elbow smoothing up your arm until he squeezed, water dripping from his palms and coasting down your skin. “Hey, hey, none of that. That’s for another day. We’re staying here, alright?”

You grimaced at the idea of ‘another day,’ but his words still didn’t ease you. You licked at your lips, dots of chlorine on them and despite how stupid you felt, you asked anyway. “What if— what if l, like, float over that way? Accidentally.”

Steve smiled like he couldn’t help himself, laughter in his eyes and a grin that he quickly tamed. “We’re not gonna catch any waves in here, this isn’t Maui,” he was still smiling, teasing, just a little. But sensing your growing worry, he continued. “And if that had to happen - which it won’t - I’ll come and get you.”

You stared at him, heartbeat in your throat and so many other questions on your tongue. They died there, fizzing into nothing as Steve held your gaze, a silent promise in his brown eyes. You’d never noticed how long and thick his lashes were, still wet and spiky from when he’d been swimming as you changed.

Maybe there was doubt in your eyes, or maybe Steve just felt the need to reiterate his statement, but when he said once more, “I’ll come get you, just like last time,” you really did believe him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington smut

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littlemissaddict · 9 days

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So I've just come across a post with the head cannon that Eddie fake fucks his friends anytime they bend over (If this was your post I agree I can totally see this happening) but hear me out here...

What if fem!reader is the only one he doesn't do it to, out of respect for her and because he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable. Then one day they're at his trailer maybe smoking a little, the older ones that is none of the kids as Eddie/Steve would never allow it, they're not completely high but just so that they're brains are slightly hazy and they're looser than usual in the way they act.

She leans across the arm of the couch to pass something to Robin just as Eddie is passing and he sees and just as he does to the guys when they do this he grabs her hips and just thrusts his hips against her ass and she unexpectedly moans in response, the weed lowering her guard so that she's unable to control the moan. Everyone, including the two of them freeze, all eyes on them in their awkward position. She can feel her cheeks heat in embarrassment and she tries to pull away from Eddie, ready to explain herself as when she turns to him she fully expects him to be disgusted with her but as she brushes against him she can feel that he's half hard and his face shows a mixture of shock and arousal.

"Well that is an awkward conversation none of us want to be here for" Steve announces standing us, Robin following and Steve ushes Jeff and Gareth out of the door telling them he'll drop them off.

It's quiet when it's just left to the two of them, a tense silence rather than the usual comfortable one that they occasionally drift off into. Until it leads to both of them awkwardly revealing their crushes on the other as they try to figure out what now?

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson onshot #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

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unsolved-duvall · 1 year

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okokok HEAR ME OUT but eddie falling asleep with his head between your legs??? he just loves the feeling of your legs around him and how you taste, and he’ll literally go until you can’t take anymore and he’s just slowly licking up his mess and just. falls asleep sucking on your clit 🥺 please i can’t keep this to myself anymore

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞, 𝐈 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 - 𝐞.𝐦. (𝟏𝟖+)

He’s just so so desperate to make you feel good. he genuinely believes there is nothing better than the sounds you make when he’s going down on you, your little moans and whimpers that fill the room. He will eat you out for his own enjoyment, perfectly content to give up breathing if it meant he got to live between your thighs for eternity, your soft hands running through his loose curls, quietly begging him never to stop.

He had gotten home from a long day to see you lying on your shared bed, you’re on your back and you have a book resting on your chest, you’re barely even reading it at this point, your eyelids so heavy you’re struggling to take in the words on the page. Eddie doesn’t even say anything as he walks into the bedroom, he just takes off his shoes, t-shirt and jacket until all he has on are his jeans. You look up at him, and even in your exhausted state you can tell from that look in his eyes what he wants.

You put the book down and reach a lazy hand out, grabbing at the air until Eddie gently throws himself on top of you, lacing his fingers through yours and pinning your hand to the bed as he mouths at your neck. The breathy way you say his name has him thanking whatever sort of god that might exist for letting him have you in his life, and in his bed.

You hear him whisper a pleading “can I taste you, angel?” into your neck, already covered in blossoming purple lovebites from last nights antics between the two of you. Eddie was insatiable.

You hum out in agreement and before you have time to kiss him Eddie’s slid himself down the bed to rest his between your legs, pulling down your pants and underwear in one smooth, rehearsed motion.

He paints your thighs in sloppy, open mouthed kisses before he turns all his attention to your cunt. Your eyes falling shut in perfect content as that familiar feeling of Eddie’s tongue on you comes flooding back.

He alternates between running his tongue through your folds and sucking on your clit, your breath hitching and back arching desperately off the bed every time. But Eddie isn’t doing this to make you cum. Not that he didn’t want you to. But he was doing this out of a selfish desire. He needed to taste you. Needed to hear your desperate pleas. Needed to be between your thighs. If you came (which you definitely did, that was inevitable with the way he was touching you) he wouldn’t stop. he just kept going, and going, and going.

You could be seeing stars and lose all control over your own body and Eddie would still be eating you out. Of course, you had a rule in place. Three taps to his shoulder and he stopped. Immediately. It would happen occasionally, Eddie would have been eating you out for an hour? two hours? you didn’t know anymore, and your clit was so swollen and your arousal was dripping down your thighs and you just couldn’t take it anymore.

The first time you tapped out you had apologised more times than you remembered, you knew Eddie needed this. Needed to go down on you to ease the stress from his aching body. So you felt horrible when you had to stop him. Eddie had made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that you were never to apologise for telling him no or stop ever again. He felt like he’d failed you if you thought you had to apologise.

But tonight was perfect. Not too much, not too little. Perfect. You needed this as much as he did. Your hand held his as he went down on you. You could tell he was tired from the way he was slowing down, his hold on your hand getting that little bit looser.

Trying to catch your breath that Eddie had stole from you with every movement of his mouth in you, you breathed out his name. He didn’t even look up at you, his head resting on your thigh as he sucked on your clit. You knew he was barely there anymore. You tried to shift yourself away from him, to let him sleep.

But even in his half-awake state, his free hand gripped your thigh tight enough to leave bruises. His eyes were shut and he was barely moving his mouth on your dripping cunt anymore, but he couldn’t let you go.

You eased your body into the sunken mattress below you and settled in for the night, with Eddie between your thighs and his hand holding onto yours.

#eddie munson smut #anon thank you so much <3 #this is all i will be thinking about for the next week <3 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson drabble #eddie x reader #eddie munson filth

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stevebabey · 1 year

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no one asked but this is the post that inspired this! thank u immensely for the luv <3 number 1 comment was wondering what steve’s bids were & from his pov, so without further ado...enjoy — part one here!

—

Begrudgingly, Eddie has to admit that Robin might be right.

It’s impossible not to be looking for the bids since he brought them up to her. Even though Eddie was fully expecting to tell Robin to suck it, maybe even wager what little money he had against this working out, Eddie can’t help but watch for them in every interaction. And fuck, she’s right.

They’re little, but they’re there.

The first one Eddie would’ve missed if he wasn’t looking for it. Actually, that’s a lie; Eddie does miss it, until Robin points it out, the nosy bitch. It’s minuscule and honestly, it just seems like Steve asking his opinion — which friends do all the time! It’s why Eddie brushes right over it.

“Okay, be honest,“ Steve had said, walking and talking as he entered the living room where Robin and Eddie were sprawled across the couches. They were both waiting on him, the three of them set on heading out to the drive-in to catch a film.

Eddie can’t fathom why Steve felt the need to change his outfit for it, but when he returns, he gets it. It’s not quite the usual polo Eddie had grown to like on Steve, this one hanging a little looser, the colour a bit darker than Steve’s usual choice, the sleeves a little shorter — almost midway to a muscle tee.

Steve’s fingers fiddle with the distressed collar of the shirt, smoothing invisible wrinkles and fussing over nothing. He swishes back his floppy hair with a flick of his head. “It’s a new shirt, I know it’s a little different - but what do we think?”

He says we but he’s looking at Eddie.

Eddie, who has taken to trying to reel in his gawp because what the fuck Steve? It’s like he’s well aware of what drives Eddie insane and has specifically leaned into it. Some evil goblin in Eddie’s brain whispers think how good he’d look in your shirt and he squashes it, giving a visible twitch to shut down that train of thought.

From the other couch, Robin clears her throat loudly and smiles sweetly at her best friend. “It looks great, Steve.”

It’s sincere and Steve’s mouth tugs up, nearly a smile but his gaze fast-tracks back to Eddie. Eddie nods in agreement, a bit sluggish from his distracting thoughts and god dammit, the extra exposed skin of Steve’s arms are so not helping. “Yeah, looks... looks good, man.”

Steve smiles, lips pressed together but his shoulders curl in just a bit, deflating just a tad. From where Steve can’t see her, Robin waves her hands wildly and catches Eddie’s attention. He watches as she gestures wildly and it takes a moment to realise what’s she mouthing — ‘A bid! That’s a bid, you idiot!’

Oh fuck, Eddie thinks. Cos it totally was; the question, the focus on Eddie. He doesn’t even think about the logistics of it, of the fact Robin was right, just jumps right into picking up the bid.

“You trying a new style?” Eddie asks and then thanks whatever god invented the whole fake-it-to-you-make-it schtick because he’s feeling so far from casual or confident. “Going metal on me, big boy?”

Eddie just manages to catch the grin that breaks across Steve’s face as he turns away, giving a scoff — it comes out too soft though, giving away his complete lack of annoyance. He pulls that usual Steve Harrington pose, hands sliding onto his hips, and screws his face into some melted smiley-grimace. “Shut up, Munson.”

Eddie grins and goads on the blush that’s beginning on Steve’s neck, a glorious tinged pink colour. “If this shirt is any indication, you’d pull it off just fine.”

Eddie watches the blush climb higher as Steve ignores the comment, his smile still giving him away. He grabs his coat and pats down his jeans — ridiculous tight acid wash jeans that Eddie hates he’s somehow become attracted to — ensuring he has his keys and wallet. Once assured, he looks up at his two friends again, brows raised, and says, “Ready to rock and roll?”

That comment alone has Eddie seriously reconsidering his type in men.

There’s only a brief moment to talk about it when Eddie and Robin cajole Steve into going and getting them both popcorn to get a moment alone. Steve had scoffed, face twitching in the way it did whenever he tried to hold back a bitchy comment, but he still stomped off in the direction of the snack stand.

The moment he’s out of earshot, both voices explode in the back of Eddie’s van.

“What did I say—”

“Jesus H Christ, you were right—”

“Literally how many times do I have—”

“Oh my god, you were right—”

“ —before you realise I’m always—”

“Robin.” He cuts her off, hands landing on her shoulders. Robin eyes them warily, lips still parted from how her rant had been cut off. “Robin, I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?” Robin’s nose scrunches up. “What the hell are you—”

“Oh Christ, I can’t believe- how long have you noticed those bids?” Eddie’s aware he sounds a bit estranged, eyes probably wide and it doesn’t help when he softly shakes Robin back and forth. She lets herself be shaken, hair flying back in forth. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! You are such a bad gay friend!”

Robin smacks his hands off her shoulders with a frown, her freckly face perturbed at Eddie’s outburst. “Dude, it’s not my fault! May I remind you that until very very recently you were seeing someone else? What difference would it have made?”

Eddie waves his hand, disregarding the point with a shake of his head. His unkempt curls cover his face and Eddie sweeps them back in one motion, “What difference would it have made? Oh my, Jesus—“

Whatever long-winded sentence Eddie was about to spit out is lost by the sound of Steve’s approaching footsteps, effectively shutting both of them up.

Eddie flings himself to the other side of the van, putting an unusual amount of distance between Robin and him like they were being caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Robin frowns at him and gestures wildly with her hands in a way that means what the fuck man? Eddie gestures back, though he’s not entirely sure what his fast hand motions are supposed to mean when Steve rounds the door.

He’s got two buckets of popcorn tucked under each arm and Eddie quickly crosses his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits like his stupid hand motions will somehow give him away.

Steve looks up, stopping just a way from the edge of the van, and looks at the pair of them. His eyes track from Robin still sitting on one of the old cushions and looking two seconds from burying her face in her hands, across to Eddie. He huffs a laugh and kneels on the edge of the van.

“I know he’s gross Robin,” He begins, tone light, as he holds out one of the buckets for Robin to take. “But c’mon, is the distance really necessary?”

Robin snickers as Eddie makes an appalled noise, both of which make Steve smirk. He holds out the other for Eddie to take and Eddie snatches it, glaring at him over the buttery rim for his comment. Then takes a handful and shovels it in because he can’t think of a witty comment to retaliate. Steve crawls into the van and plops himself between them with a content sigh.

“See? Gross.” He teases, shoving his hand into Eddie’s popcorn bucket to grab a handful. Eddie scowls and chews a little faster when the flavour on his tongue seems to register in his brain.

His eyes stare at the popcorn bucket as he chews, then swallows — up the front of the van, the radio that’s tuned into the correct frequency begins playing the opening credits song as the screen changes. Silence sweeps across the drive-in but despite the sudden hush, Eddie has no qualms about breaking it.

“Sweet n’ salty flavour?” He asks Steve, only half attempting a whisper. Robin shushes him instantly, her focus already on the movie that’s beginning. Steve smiles, looking a bit sheepish beneath the glow of the drive-in screen, but he nods.

“I know you like it.” He whispers with a small shrug of his shoulders. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Fuck, Eddie thinks again and hastily feeds himself another handful of popcorn before he says anything majorly stupid in response to that, like: Oh, amazing- have you noticed the big fat crush I have on you as well?

He doesn’t even need to look at Robin to know she’s smiling, smug as ever.

—

Steve, God bless his oblivious little heart, doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

Steve likes Eddie. Eddie is— god, Eddie is different but he’s good.

He’s this strange amalgamation of traits that Steve can’t comprehend how they fit together in one body or how Eddie manages to pull it all off completely charmingly.

He’s loud, he says rude things, he’s fucking dorky, and far too sweet on the kids — he likes to tease Steve, and yet somehow, when Eddie calls him ‘pretty boy’, Steve knows he’s not actually making fun of him.

Steve likes Eddie, likes his boyishly endearing charm, likes his touchiness towards Steve that no other boy his age is like, likes his messy curls and his ‘holier than thou’ attitude about metal music even though Steve doesn’t get it, like at all. And fuck, Steve really wants Eddie to like him.

It reminds him faintly of when he first started working alongside Robin at Scoops. That thought tickles in the back of his mind, something along the lines of how he had wanted Robin to like him for other reasons, but he doesn’t delve into it.

To Steve, it’s simple: he just wants Eddie to like him.

After the night at the drive-in, between Eddie acting strangely skittish and Robin giving more amused snorts than usual, Steve knows something is up.

He knows they must have discussed something when they sent him on popcorn duty, the bastards. He tries his best to not feel left out; god knows Robin and he have more than a dozen secrets they’ve sworn not to tell anyone but each other.

Besides, Steve trusts Robin to come and tell him if he really needs to know, even if it does worry him a bit. He bites down his anxious thoughts, even trying for a moment to see if there’s a pattern he’s been missing.

That train of thought gets derailed when Steve recalls instead Eddie’s delightful reaction to his new shirt — that Steve definitely hadn’t bought for that specific reason.

Even though Robin had given him that look when he’d first shown it to her — her bright eyes had narrowed, her smile turning a little more coy, and Steve had felt his ears get a little hotter. She hadn’t said anything though, just suggested that he should wear it tomorrow night when they were going out with Eddie.

God, he was glad she suggested it.

Rewinding over Eddie’s parted lips, the way his brown eyes had drank in the details as they trailed up his body and lingered on his arms— Steve had the sudden thought to flex the muscle, just to elicit some reaction, but it had gone out the window at Eddie’s original dismal reaction.

‘Yeah, looks... looks good, man’. Said all aloof, like he hadn’t really thought it. It was like bursting a balloon hidden behind Steve’s ribs, one he wasn’t even aware was there until it was deflating pathetically, making his shoulders sag.

Then— ‘You trying a new style? Going metal on me, big boy?’ And dammit, it’s like Eddie had clocked exactly what calling him ‘big boy’ had done the first time in the Winnebago.

Eddie had then grinned, done another once over of the new shirt, even as Steve pretended to search for his keys and wallet while saying something snarky to try to cover up the heat crawling up his neck. Yet, Steve found himself smiling too because, fuck yes, Eddie liked it too.

But, apparently, whatever Eddie and Robin had discussed wasn’t considered important enough because Robin never brought it up.

The thought and worry about it melt away in Steve’s mind until the memory of that night is about Eddie’s compliment, about his cat-like grin over the popcorn bucket, and how he had leaned over to whisper every bad joke into Steve’s ear all through the movie.

Some of them had been down-right filthy jokes which Eddie only seemed to enjoy more when Steve screwed his face up and nudged Eddie in the ribs, yet unable to hide his smile.

After the third vulgar joke and subsequent nudge, Steve had chided ‘dude’ with a poorly hidden grin. Eddie, smile all cheeky, had nudged him back with a ‘dude’ of his own.

Which, of course, ensued a nudge competition til Robin had given a shush that librarians all over the world would be jealous of. But Steve didn’t even care because he and Eddie were arm to arm, pressed close together and Eddie…didn’t move. Stayed close, like he wanted the closeness the same way Steve did.

Steve only remembers the strange drive-in moment when Robin brings it up finally, on one interesting Saturday night.

It’s not the usual routine; it’s not very often that the whole group gets together to share drinks and get rowdy.

But it was for Robin’s birthday and she’d been persuasive enough to get even the introverts, like Jonathan, to come along. Though, she was aware he’d probably spend the night on a pool lounger, stoned to high heaven. Whatever floats your boat, she’d said, happy for the company in any form.

There’s enough of them there that it almost resembles some sort of party— and makes Steve try not to think about the last small party he threw here. He can tell Nancy notices it too, eyeing the pool a bit too long in a way he’s very familiar with, then taking a swig of beer.

So, Steve heckles them inside — doing a fantastic mothering impression as he waves the group indoors with a promise of pizza, and that has both Jonathan and Argyle perking up and beginning a fast discussion on the best pizza toppings.

Eddie makes a fuss, because of course he does, and moans terribly when Steve tries to roll him off the pool lounger he’s on. He’s had a bit of a joint and some beer, and Steve’s learned that he gets adorably stubborn after some substances.

“Stevie, this is mean,” he had pouted, gripping the edges of the lounger and staring up at Steve with those big brown eyes. “You telling me I did all that bonding with you for nothing? Can’t even lounge by the pool! I’ve got a couch at homeeeee.”

Steve had sent him an amused look of disbelief, hands on his hips after his first round of flicks against Eddie’s arm were apparently fruitless to get him to move. “Really? Didn’t peg you for a gold-digger, Eds.”

Eddie had snorted at that, one hand coming to slap over his mouth. Steve couldn’t quite hear what he had said but the words pegging and anytime slipped through and Steve thinks he could get the gist of that.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Steve muttered, feeling the tips of his ears turn warm. He didn’t know how Eddie could be such a menace— or why he enjoyed it so much when he was. Steve waved a hand in the direction of the doors, ignoring Eddie’s delighted snickering. “If you go inside now, you can be on music, alright?”

And that had finally got them all indoors, Eddie whooping and skedaddling through the doors in an instant, with a call of ‘no take backsies!’ echoing behind him.

Inside was much cozier, the whole group a little more connected when squished up on the couches together. Eddie had taken Steve’s word and was jamming a cassette into one of the speakers when Steve made it back inside after scouting around the pool for leftover cans and butts to throw out.

He’s just been thinking about what playful jab he could make at Eddie’s music, like Eddie always did to him when Robin hollered at him from the kitchen.

“Steve!” She’d yelled excitedly and he come to find her quick, brows raised as he entered the kitchen. She was grinning, already a bit jumpy as she got when she had a bit of liquor — but apparently not enough because when Steve saw what she’d called him in for, she’d announced, “Tequila shots!”

Which lead to now. A hazy combination of beer, tequila, and a bit of weed, and Steve is feeling good. Robin had managed to hijack the music not too long ago, with a hiccup of ‘it’s my birthday’ that had Eddie surrendering with a pout.

She’d since put on a bit of everything: some Blondie for Nance, Talking Heads for Jonathan, and some Bowie, just so she and Steve could dance along to ‘Magic Dance’ and she could do all the silly little goblin voices that made them both cackle.

Steve realised at some point that Robin was playing their mixtape, the one she’d made for driving in the morning, and nearly tripped stumbling over to her in his excitement. He grabbed her shoulders, not too hard, and squeezed.

“Is it- is this our mixtape?” Steve asked, words slurring only a bit. Robin gleamed, hair bouncing with her excited nod.

“Yes!” She was already dancing, even though the tape was between songs — because she knew what song was coming. “It’s Springsteen time, Steve!”

Right as the drums to Born to Run filtered out the speaker.

And oh, Steve loves Robin so much. He loves having a best friend that knows his favourite song and gets jittery and excited because she knows it’s about to play— that she put it on this mix for him.

“You’re my best friend!” Steve says, the words bursting out like he can’t control them. He doesn’t even feel embarrassed, just happy, just drunk, and overwhelming happy to be able to have this.

And even though Robin knows this, she still beams, feet dancing along and just begins to sing along with the song, “In the days, we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream…”

It’s a brazen drunken performance from the both of them. Steve’s chest is heaving after just one chorus that he’s pretty sure he put his whole soul into and he’s so fucking happy —and it feels like pure instinct to seek out Eddie, his eyes scouring the room for him.

Eddie’s leaned up against the wall, hiding his smile behind a can and Steve doesn’t think twice about it— doesn’t think about why he’s so drawn to Eddie, why he wants to include him in this happiness — just extends his hand out and grins.

Eddie sees the bid coming this time.

Part Three.

—

yes i saw all ur lovely tags and MAYBE cried about it. but thats none of ur business.

@orangeandthefairroadkill @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @phantypurple @omg-elledubs-things @henderdads @farfaras @mixsethaddams @prismandblue @kerlypride @bushbees @legitcookie @temporalcoffin @callmesirkay @beautifully-useless @millyditty @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @ninjapirateunicorns @darkwitchoferie @vi-the-best-you-can @psychosnowfox @desert-fern @scarletzgo @cr0w-culture @softpink-candlelight @livingforfictionalcharacters @makewavesandwar @kozuuji @rhapsodyinalto @eddiethesexy @cassaloopa @lightwoodbanethings @qu33rcommunist @moonlitkilljoy @starkdusk @theysherobinbuckley @sanguineterrain @loganwright @sillysparrow @hotcocoaharrington @eddie-munson-is-my-wife @she-is-tim @steddiehearts @sideblogofthcentury @sidebarre @corrodedcoughin @stevieclaus

#OBLIVIOUS STEVE IS MY FAVOURITE!!!!#idiots in love #they're so important to me ur honour #on god am i gonna make them KISS #but steve's gotta figure it out first lol #ruby writes steddie #steddie #steddie ficlet #i think i can call it a fic now lol each part is 3k+ i think #steddie fic #IF U WANTED TO BE TAGGED AND I DIDNT IM SORRY #lest i come off terribly egotistical i need direct instructions to tag lmao #even then i tagged sum people that just said 'can't wait for part 2!' which? isn't?#I DUNNO #i went off vibes someone said they were vibrating so i was like get over here the next part is here #one of these tags is just a steddie blog i love.... and they reblogged part 1 #corrodedcoughin <3 i love u hehe #the stobin bestie love SHINES in this #i love them so much they are BEST FRIENDS!!!#if u have any ideas... i do love reading the tags and seeing what people want to see next ! im fuckin making it up as i go lol

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oneforthemunny · 5 months

Text

tangled tinsel |dom!eddie munson x sub!reader|

prompt: a decoration mishap turns into an oddly festive idea. or eddie just likes to tie you up with pretty things and this one happens to be festive.

apart of my twelve days of dom!eddie masterlist which is located in my munny's merriest masterlist with all the other holiday works :)

contains: 18+ minors dni. dom/sub themes. restraints. blindfolds. toys (vibrators). not too mean this time, eddie's more of a soft dom and just a little teasing lol.

“Son of a fuckin’ bitch- Can you pick this shit up?” Eddie huffed, a heavy handed snatch yanking down the silvery tinsel that strung across the doorway, wrapping around his forehead for the final time.

“Don’t!” You hiss, tongue clicking in annoyance at him. “Why would you do that?” You rolled your eyes, unamused by his childish outbursts.

“Because I hit this shit every time I walk through the door!” Eddie snapped, the tinsel in his clutches, waving it around furiously.

“Well, pay attention!” You snap back, snatching your cheap, plastic, metallic strung tinsel out of his hands. “You should know it's there. Quit messing all my shit up. You’re just being an asshole now, Eddie, and I’m really over it.”

“I’m an asshole?” Eddie gaped, the ghosting of a scoff filling his tone. “I’m an asshole-”

“-Yeah, you are.” You bark, hooking the tinsel over the small command hook on the wall. “You know it’s there-”

“-You know it’s too fuckin’ low-”

“-Then you fix it.” You throw your arms up. “You can fucking fix it!”

“I didn’t even want it up, and now I gotta fix it?” Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “That shit is itchy. I don’t want to touch that. I don’t like having to touch it when it falls in my face, gets all that shiny stuff in my hair. Just move it.”

You rolled your eyes, snorting lightly in mocking amusement. “God, you’re such a baby.” You shake your head. “It’s so itchy, oh no, I can’t touch it!” You shrill in a mocking, obnoxious tone- one you knew made him furious.

“Hey, watch it.” Eddie snapped, a finger pointed your way. “Keep running that mouth, baby, and you’re gonna piss me off.”

“Well, you’ve already pissed me off.” You huff, unfazed by his threat. Slipper clad stomps, muted on the shaggy carpet of the living room, and you fell into the couch, arms crossed. You knew you probably looked petulant, pinched brows furrowed in a frown, nose curling into a snarl.

Eddie stood in the doorway, still, watching you. The tenseness of your shoulders, fury filled huffs that made him wince. He didn’t mean to lash out, he knew you had a hard week. The joys of holiday retail and all their not so very merry goers had left you in a foul mood all week.

You could hear him sigh from behind you, the rustling of the tinsel coming off the hook, readjusting it slowly. “Hey,” Eddie called, voice still commanding but looser. “Look at me, honey.”

A slow roll of your head, nearly bored, and your eyes were on him, still fixed in a narrowed glare. “‘M sorry.” Eddie muttered softly, walking towards you. A calloused hand, warm from the heat of the trailer cupped your cheek gently, thumb swiping over the apples of your cheeks. You turned into his hold, melting in front of him. “I didn’t mean anything by it, alright? I’m just… yeah.”

You nodded, hand sliding up his writs gently. Eddie’s heart leapt. “I know.” You nuzzled further into his touch, lips brushing the palm of his hand gently. “I don’t mean to be a bitch-”

“-You’re not a bitch-”

“-I’m just overwhelmed.” You sighed.

“Thought this was supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, hm?” Eddie’s heart ached when you didn’t even grin, just sad eyes that downcasted towards the couch.

There was a pause, filled with the hum of the heater harmonizing with the purr of the washer running. “You wanna fuck around?” Eddie’s head tilted down towards you, pinching your flushed cheek lightly, enough to get the small smile he was craving out of you.

“Yeah,” Your eyes sparkled when they lit up at his, rounded so sweetly already, Eddie thought his knees might give out. “But I don’t want to play mean, Ed.”

“We don’t have to play at all if you don’t want to.” Eddie hummed, thumb grazing the soft skin of your cheek, playfully pressing into your nose.

“No, I want to.” You frowned, Eddie’s thumb smoothing over the crease between your brow. “But I don’t want you to spank me.”

“I was thinking I’d tie you up.” Eddie growled, leaning forward so he hovered over you, curly strands framing his face. “Maybe blindfold you. Bring out your toys.”

Your tummy flipped with heat, thighs pressing together, squirming in his touch. “Yeah.” You nodded. “But not too much teasing. I’m tired, Ed, I won’t last if you mess with me too long.”

“I won’t do it for too long.” Eddie nodded, grinning sweetly. “You wanna go wait for me in the room? Just on the bed, baby, no kneeling tonight. Just grab your blindfold.”

“Which cuffs?” You stood, moving towards the doorway, the one Eddie had just fixed.

His eyes lingered over the tinsel for just a second, a beat too long. “I got them.” Eddie’s tongue ran over his teeth, swallowing his smile. “I’ll get it.”

“Is that too tight?” Eddie asked, finger wiggling between you and the crinkling tinsel, seeing if he could slip a finger through. He was always worried, since the one time you played, early in the relationship, and he tied your hands too tight. Your fingers and palms went numb, neither one of you knew better but Eddie still felt awful about it, always making sure to double check.

“Feel ok?”

“Yeah, feels fine.” You sighed, rolling your shoulders lightly, sinking into the mattress. “Feels kinda scratchy.”

“Yeah.” Eddie snorted lightly, and though you couldn’t see it through your blindfold, you knew he was grinning. “Told you it was itchy.”

“It’s not that bad.” Your lips curled into a sideways grin. “The cuffs are way worse.”

Eddie hummed softly, tongue poking out at the array of toys- your toys. Vibrators, a dildo in the mold of his cock- you’d gotten it for him last Valentine’s Day, though it was more of a gift for you.

His hand reached for the slender, long wand- your favorite. He wasn’t punishing you, after all.

You felt the bed dip, the low groan of the mattress squeaking, Eddie’s hand on your thigh made you jump, spreading your legs apart.

A click, a buzz, and your body tensed in anticipation. You waited for the vibrating, soft silicone to glide over your skin. Instead, Eddie’s curls tickled your thighs, pillowy lips leaving a hot, wet kiss right above your knee. Sloppy kisses trailed up your leg, painfully slow, leaving you squirming and pulling against the tinsel.

He paused, hovering over your mound, breath ghosting over the skin, a pitiful whine leaving your lips. You clenched, trying to still your body from bucking towards him. Eddie smirked, nose tracing the wiry hair just above your slit, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. No tongue, which had you huffing, but he lingered there for a moment.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re gettin’ pouty on me, baby.” Eddie muttered, lips buzzing against your skin, your body shivering when his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“‘M not pouty.” You sighed, lip jutting in the most adorably contradicting way. “But you said you wouldn’t tease.”

“No teasing at all?” Eddie hummed, his tone light and playful, kissing up your sternum, tongue flattening to lick a long stripe between your breasts. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You whine, body writhing pathetically against the restraints. “This isn’t fun.” You huff, frowning under the blindfold, the same bratty, snipping tone that Eddie knew far too well when you’d play. His weakness.

“Alright, alright,” Eddie cooed gently, teetering on the edge of mocking. “I gotcha. I’ll give you what you want.”

The vibrator brushed over your right nipple, soft silicone head thrumming, tickling the nerves, shooting electricity through you. Eddie circled the nipple gently, dipping down to kiss along your jaw.

“Please…” You panted, trapping a nasally whine behind closed lips.

“Please what? What do you want?” Eddie muttered, lip dragging along your neck. “Tell me what you want. You know you gotta tell me. How else will I know?”

“You know.” You snapped, hips wiggling.

Eddie didn’t move, stilled entirely except for moving the vibrator away from your pebbled nipple. A huffy whine, throaty and desperate had Eddie nearly caving, giving in because he did know what you wanted. He just wanted to hear you ask.

“I-I don’t want it there.” You mutter, body flushing with embarrassed heat, wiggling in hopes Eddie wouldn’t see it on your exposed skin.

“Where do you want it?” Eddie rasped, free hand cupping your boob, squeezing it gently.

“In-In me.” You mumbled,

“In you? In you where?” Eddie smirked, lifting the vibrator. “You want it… here?” The vibrations tickled your mouth, buzzing against your lips.

You writhed, head turning away. “No.”

“Oh, so you want it…” Eddie dragged the vibrator down your sternum, lightly over your slit, grinning at how your hips bucked excitedly. Only, he didn’t press it into your sopping hole, didn’t press it against your clit and bury his cock into you like you’d hoped.

No, instead, he pressed it between your cheeks, the tip buzzing against your tightest hole, leaving your squealing, hips jumping off the bed. “You want it in here?” Eddie grinned, teasing your ass gently.

“No, no, not there.” You shook your head furiously. “Eddie, you-you’re being mean!”

“I’m not.” Eddie feigned shock dramatically. “I just don’t know what you want, baby. You gotta tell me.”

Your lips tightened in a flat line, and he knew you were glaring at him through the blindfolds. “I-I want it in my pussy.”

“In it?” Eddie hummed, dragging the vibrator through your folds, circling your sopping hole.

“Yes- wait, no.” You moaned, head spinning at the sensation. “I want you inside me, and I want you to use it on me. On my pussy.”

“Oh…” Eddie sighed dramatically, finally pressing the vibrator over your clit, smug at the way your body jolted and bucked at the sensation. “I gotcha. See? That’s all you had to say.” He hummed, free hand lifting your left leg up, hooking it over his shoulder.

You felt the head of his cock slipping through your folds, groaning at the vibrations tickling through his own core. “I’ll give you what you want, baby.” Hips rolling slowly into yours, your back was arching off the bed at the double sensations.

Eddie’s free hand on your left hip, holding you into place while he pounded you, full rolls of his hips that punched straight to your core, winding you. The vibrator sloppily circling your clit, making you clench earlier than you expected, nails digging into the tinsel. The scratchy decor digging into your skin, that tiny bit of uncomfortable pleasure, a little bit of pain with the satisfaction Eddie was giving you, heightened by the blindfold. He knew exactly what he was doing, what you needed.

You pulled at the restraints again, itchy and burning into the skin of your wrists, harmonizing with the pleasure from Eddie and the vibrator, toes curling and strangled moans filling the space between you two, sending you over the edge for the first time.

The next two that followed before Eddie finally came, were enough to leave your mind blank. Gone with the frustration of the week, aching from sensation, and wrists rubbed raw from the tinsel.

Eddie let you sleep, after cleaning you up and the post check. You were sleeping hard, cheek squished, drooling into the pillow, wiped out. He cleaned the vibrator, throwing it back with the others. Applied Cortisone cream to the chafed skin of your wrists, doing a double check for any missed damage from before.

He held the tinsel in his hands, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, padding towards the door frame. Eddie hooked one end then the other, pulling tight to secure it up on the walls. Wrenching open the kitchen window, Eddie huffed, shoving the dangling strings of lights you had hung over the windows out of the way. He paused, lingering over the strand, twinkling bulbs on thick, sturdy chords. Maybe next time, I’ll use the light, Eddie thought, grinning to himself, blowing a cloud of smoke out the window.

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unclewaynemunson · 6 months

Text

CW for body issues and negative thoughts surrounding weight gaining

Cold autumn air has fallen over Hawkins for the first time in months. Steve reaches into the back of his closet to find his favorite sweater, the dark red one that his grandmother made him when he was in his junior year. The wool still feels just as soft in his hands as it was last year.

He pulls it over his head, welcoming the warmth it immediately gives off around him, but it feels tighter than he remembers it being. He pulls and adjusts the fabric, then gives himself a critical look in the mirror, and - fuck. It must've shrunk somehow. He messed up his favorite sweater.

But... The last time he wore it, on that one cold night at the end of April, it still fit him perfectly. He remembers that night clearly: they were all sitting around a campfire in the trailer park for Wayne's birthday, and Eddie had kept looking at him like that sweater was causing all kinds of unholy thoughts - partly the reason why it's Steve's favorite.

The sweater can't possibly have shrunk lying unused in the back of his closet for months. It didn't shrink; Steve has grown.

Suddenly, he looks at himself in the mirror and sees a whole other person. He zeroes in on all kinds of details he had never paid much attention to before, and he wonders how he could've ever missed what was happening to him: his expanding belly, the fat that has gathered around his hips, his stretched-out thighs... His upper legs are looking more chubby than muscled now that he stopped swimming regularly, and his sweater is tight around his upper arms and too narrow over his belly, the imprint of his belly button clearly visible in the stretched-out fabric.

He has no idea for how long he has been staring at himself when the bedroom door opens and Eddie comes in, still roughly brushing a towel over his wet hair. He's wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. Again, Steve wonders how he could ever have missed the way his body changed, especially next to Eddie: Eddie, who has always been lean, on the verge of being scrawny, his ribs almost visible underneath his tattooed skin and not a single curve in sight.

Eddie freezes in his tracks when he notices Steve, his eyes hovering over the red sweater. Steve feels caught, exposed under Eddie's gaze. He must be coming to the same conclusion that Steve had reached a minute before: that Steve's best days are behind him. That he's getting fat and that his body will only deteriorate further from now on. That he stopped taking good care of himself. That he's only going to get uglier with age.

'Sorry,' he's quick to say when Eddie won't stop staring. He turns his body away from Eddie's gaze, and starts rummaging around in his closet to find something with a looser fit. 'I didn't realize it wouldn't fit anymore, I'm gonna get changed right away. I suppose the red isn't really your color, but you can have it if you want to, I'm sure it'll fit you perfectly.'

He feels hands grabbing the underside of the sweater from behind.

'No.'

'What?'

He turns around, facing Eddie again, who now fists his hands into the sides of the fabric instead.

'Don't you dare take this off. Only one person is allowed to do that from now on, and that person is me.' There's a look in Eddie's eyes that Steve only recognizes from very different settings, like when he used to get home after a run all sweaty, or when one of them sinks to his knees in front of the other.

'What is happening?' he mumbles under his breath.

'You, in this tight sweater?' Eddie's voice is low and breathy. 'You are a fucking dream, Steve Harrington.'

Steve takes a step backwards, but Eddie's hands stay plastered right where they are.

'Are you making a fool of me?'

Eddie frowns and he finally lets his grip on Steve's sweater go.

'Why would you think that?'

Steve huffs, needlessly gestures to his own body. 'I look ridiculous!' he points out, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. 'It doesn't fit anymore, I let myself get fat, I'm getting old and ugly, I–'

With one step, Eddie is right in front of Steve again, shutting him up by placing his index finger against Steve's lips.

'Not another word,' he says. 'I don't want to hear you talk like that about yourself ever again. You got it all wrong, you know. I mean, don't get me wrong, you were already hella sexy in your jock days, but your soft pillow belly is, like, the closest one can get to heaven here on earth.'

It should be too much, it should sound insincere because of how dramatic it is - but Steve is used to Eddie's dramatics and he can see that Eddie is being one hundred percent serious right now.

'You are the sexiest man I know, and every pound you've gained is a beautiful one. You are gorgeous, Steve – and you will keep being gorgeous and sexy in every shape you'll get.' His hands are roaming over Steve's sweater again, comforting and hungry at the same time. 'I do have to ask you not to wear this sweater outside of our house, though. It'll cause riots. People might die because of it.'

He looks dead serious saying it, and Steve can't help but laugh before he tugs Eddie closer and presses their lips together.

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #i saw people wanted the s2 red sweater to make an appearance again so here we go i guess #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fruity ficlet #tw body issues #tw body image #tw weight #(lemme know if i forgot a tw please)

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deathbecomesthem · 21 days

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A Lesson In Anatomy | 4.5K

+18 ONLY - Minors DNI

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Contains smut and feelings. Read at your own risk.

*This story belongs in the No Shelter universe, but it can be read as a one shot. I wanted to make sure this was linked on this blog before I continue the next chapter of the series. Consider this the prequel.

Hawkins, Summer of 1986 - No UD

---

Eddie’s been weird lately. He’s been quiet and almost shy around you, and you’ve spent the last few nights turning over possible reasons for this. In your dark room with only the sound of your fan to accompany the thought spiral your brain pushes you through, you close your eyes and picture your good friend Eddie. His easy smile, his flirtations. He’s become everything to you in the last few months, and it’s putting you on edge to see him pull away from you.

The last time you remember having an easy time with Eddie was two weeks ago, at the lake. The younger kids were spending the hot summer day at the arcade and movie theater, it wasn’t missed on you the way they all had been awkward about stripping down to their bathing suits this summer. No amount of reassurance would change that, only time and maturity. It gave you, Eddie, Robin, Nancy, Steve, Jon, and Argyle a chance to drink and smoke without worrying about being a bad influence.

And flirt. So much of that. Especially with Eddie. He’s gone from acquaintance, to friend, to best friend in the matter of months.

The truth about how you feel about him is between you and yourself. You treat everyone the same, but you have to watch yourself. You have to keep your eyes on him no longer than the others. You have to make sure you take your fingers from his arm after pushing him away, not let the back of your fingers trail down his soft skin to try to pull out the gooseflesh. If you offer him the flame of your lighter, you have to hold it out to everyone. You won’t survive it if you show him your secret desire and he rejects it. It’s better to share your affections openly with everyone if it means he gets the smallest taste of how much he means to you.

So, what happened that day while you all splashed around in the cool lake water? You rewind and playback any scenes you can remember. It was perfect, the hot sun beating down on sweaty bodies, the smell of baby oil in the air. The night before lake day you had been on a date with Dale. You were particularly fresh with everyone. Really turned on the charm.

The night before you and Dale tangled up in each other’s limbs. Dale had pumped in and out of you, his stamina had been impressive. He whispered things in your ear about how good you felt, how wet and warm you felt around him. He’d found the sweet spot on your neck. It was nice. A pleasant experience, especially for the first time with a new lover. Sometimes those experiences were unpleasant, but Dale had even put his mouth on you. He took his time with his tongue spreading your lips and lapping at you. He had drunk you in. It was nice.

“How was your date with Dale last night? Did he hit a home run?” Robin’s whispers were anything but quiet, and her question caught the attention of the boys while they dug around in the cooler next to the two of you.

“Jesus, Robin.” You scold her, but it’s no use. The damage is done, and everyone stands stock-still to hear your answer. These topics are not off the table with all of you, but it’s always hard to talk about when you feel the heat of chestnut eyes watching. “Ok, yeah. We had some fun last night. It was nice.”

“Nice, huh?” Argyle’s smile is skeptical, and he’s too loose right now. The weed he brought with him has made his tongue looser than normal, and it was already untethered. “No fireworks? You guys have been hot and heavy for a while. What happened?”

You consider lying and saying, “oh it was amazing. The heavens opened above my head. I was so close I could feel the pearly gates run across my fingers.” But no. They’d see through it.

“It was nice. I enjoyed it. But no, no fireworks. Maybe with a little bit of, uh – instruction?” You stop talking, fearing you might say something that would be embarrassing for Dale if he knew you were talking about this.

“Oh, no. Does he not know how to eat the peach?” Argyle gasps out the question, and everyone snickers. “You gotta tell him. That’s not right. Did you fake it?”

This is when you realize that not everyone is giggling. Eddie’s face and chest are as red as a tomato. It’s not the first time you’ve talked about your sexual conquests in front of him, but the thought of making anyone in the group uncomfortable pains you. So you pivot. Eddie’s embarrassed and you feel bad about kissing and telling.

“Arg, be a good boy and roll us a joint, hm?” You bat your eyelashes at him and give him your sweetest tone. No harm done, but time to change the subject.

The rest of the day at the lake went by with laughter. No worries for any of you while you ate fruit salad and turkey sandwiches and drank your beers. It was one of those magical days that is both endless and gone in the blink of an eye. A moment captured in your mind’s photo album.

Your eyes pop open. It was that conversation. You know it now. You remember the way Eddie had flushed, and ever since then he’s been off. The two of you talk about everything, you can’t imagine he’s suddenly shy about sex. He loves telling you about his sex-capades. You’ve seen him naked on several occasions, he has no shame.

Well, maybe he does. Maybe you brushed against a sensitive spot without even realizing it exists.

You call Eddie as soon as the clock hits noon. It’s Sunday, he’s not working today. Neither are you. Normally, that would mean the two of you would have some kind of plans, but for some reason you don’t this weekend. That won’t do. You let his phone ring seven times before you hang your back on the receiver.

You look at it for a minute, willing it to ring back with Eddie’s voice being on the other end, but it doesn’t. So, you dial the numbers again. On the fourth ring, you hear a click that tells you your call is being answered this time.

“Hello.” Eddie’s voice is rattling, and you hear him clear his throat while he waits for a response.

“Ed, hey!” You cringe at the sound of your voice, loud and chipper. It’s too much, he just woke up and he’s cranky. He’s always cranky before he gets some kind of caffeine in his system.

“Hey.” His voice is a little clearer. His stilted response is a shot through your gut.

“Hey, I was wondering if I could come over. I miss you, and I want some Ed time.” Your words are true, and your meaning is clear.

“That’s sweet,” Eddie clears his throat again, a stalling measure. You think he’s going to say no, and you feel panic start to set in when he lets out a heavy breath. “Uh, yeah, come over. We can hang. I miss you too.”

You make your way to his place slowly. You stop at the gas station on the way to fill up despite having half a tank already and make sure to grab Eddie’s favorite candy – Twizzlers – before hopping back into the driver’s seat. It’s a sweaty day, and your car doesn’t have air conditioning. The open windows do little more than move the sweat crawl across your skin. It’s an unsettling feeling that only stirs up the anxiety you feel in the pit of your stomach more. You feel like you’re walking into the line of fire, and you don’t know why.

Eddie’s sitting on the worn sofa outside of his trailer when you pull your car up to his place. He’s in sweats, and he looks like he’s just woken up even though hours have passed since your phone call earlier. The cigarette he’s holding between his fingers is burned to the filter, yet he still takes one last drag before dropping it into the bucket next to the arm of the couch.

“Hey, Sugar.” Eddie’s greeting falls short. His smile is small and doesn’t reach the corner of his eyes. You can see lines running down his puffy face. He must have gone back to bed after talking to you. You brace yourself for grouchy Eddie.

“Eddie,” you’re bringing enough energy for the both of you as you bound up the stairs to reach him, “I brought your favorite. Come on.” You don’t wait for an answer, you grab his hand to bring him inside the trailer. It’s too hot to sit outside, and he has a window unit in his bedroom that will keep you cool enough for the time being.

You pretend to not notice that his feet are dragging while you pull. It’s occurred to you just now that he’s pouting about something. He’s mad at you or annoyed at least. That won’t do either. He needs to quit being a child and talk to you.

“Sit.” You point to the edge of his bed. You catch a small eye roll before he flops himself down. He put his elbows on his knees and rested his chin in his hands. He really does look like a little kid being put into time out.

You pull over the chair he has sitting in the corner and face it towards him before taking your own seat. Eye to eye, you look at him and try not to be distracted by the way his eyes pull at you. They always do. You push it back and remember that he’s your friend, and you’re here because – why? Because something has upset him, and it’s something you did or said. You match his posture and put your own head into your hands and keep your eyes on his even when he looks down to the side.

“Eddie, my sweet Eddie. I love you a lot, but I’m not giving you a single Twizzler until you tell me why you’re mad at me.” You’re keeping it light, but you feel like a knife is cutting you deep.

“I’m not mad at you, Sugar. I’ve just been in my own head is all. It happens, I’m sorry.” Eddie’s still not looking back at your face. His fingers have started drumming across his cheek and his left leg has started to bounce. His eyes are still fixed to a spot on the carpet at your feet when one of his hands darts out to grab a strand of licorice from the bag in your hands, but you’re too quick and scoot your chair back a couple of inches.

“Ok, you’re not mad. Cool. Then why can’t you even look at me right now, huh?” Eddie’s eyes finally connect with yours as an act of defiance, but you accept it as a win. “Is it because I was talking about Dale? That’s –“

“Sugar, I don’t want to talk about it. You can keep the Twizzlers.” Eddie’s spitting venom in your direction, and you’re even more confused.

“Great, I’ll keep the Twizzlers. Jesus Christ, Ed. You’re acting like a child, what did I do, huh? Other than say I had a nice time with Dale. And I did, it’s not his fault he doesn’t know what the clit is!” You’re ranting at Eddie, spitting your own words at him hoping they cut enough to reopen the wound that he’s trying so hard to hide from you. His face drains of color while you tear at him.

“It’s not about Dale, Sugar. It’s not about you either.” His eyes are softer as he scans your face. His own anger seems to have faded away when you met it with your own. “Not really, anyway. It’s embarrassing.”

You think now about how he’s been acting, and yes, that feels true. He’s holding onto some private humiliation, and whatever you said under that hot summer sun seems to have wounded him.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed with me, Ed. I love you, you’re like my best friend.” There are tears in your voice, and you’re biting them back. “Not like, you are my best friend these days. Don’t you know that?”

You can see the gears turning with the beat of his bouncing leg. He looks like he’s ready to explode, and you worry for a moment. If his humiliation is deep enough, he’ll lash out at you, and you may never be able to make amends with him. You’re like two fires spitting sparks at each other, and you’re afraid something important might burn.

Eddie’s demeanor is guarded, but he speaks after a moment. He’s trusting you with this secret that’s been gnawing at him, “Sugar, I know you like to chat with our friends, but this is strictly between me and you.” You take his hand in yours and give him a nod of understanding, urging him to continue. “When you and Argyle were talking about Dale, it made me think about something that’s been buggin’ me.”

You keep your features lax. You don’t want to express the confusion you’re feeling. You want him to keep going. So, you squeeze his hand a little tighter letting your flesh dig into the metal cross he wears on his middle finger.

“I, uh, I think I’m doin’ it wrong.” Eddie’s mouth moves, but his eyes stay focused on yours. He’s watching for any acknowledgement of what he’s saying. You give none, so he continues. “When I’m,” he breathes through his nose in frustration, “when I’m ‘eating the peach’, girls never seem to like it as much as I thought they would. Or sometimes I think they’re pretending.”

“Oh.” You can’t hide the surprise in your voice because this is not what you expected. Eddie Munson doesn’t give good head? That seems so unlikely you can’t help but huff out a laugh. “No, I’m sorry. Ed, I’m not laughing at you. You’re telling me that the girls you’re with don’t like it when you eat them out?”

“I don’t know. They never complain. Never. I just know something is off. I can tell. I could spend an hour down there, and I’m not getting the results, Sugar. Can you help me?” Eddie accentuates his plea by grabbing both of your hands and holding them tightly in his own. You can feel his calloused fingertips and can’t help but imagine what they must feel like against your most sensitive places. “Help me Sugar-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.”

His joke works, and the tension is broken. You tear your hands from him and grab the bag of Twizzlers off your lap and toss them in his face before hopping on the bed next to him. You rest your head on his shoulder, you’ve missed this easy intimacy, and the dam is broken now. You can talk to him. No more secrets.

“Yes, Ed. I can help you. But you’re going to have to explain to me what your process is if you want my help. Or, uh” you stop yourself before you say anything that can be misinterpreted exits your giant mouth. “you know what, let’s just start with you telling me and we’ll go from there.”

You can’t see the way that Eddie’s eyebrows raise up under his fringe, because your cheek is resting against his arm, but you don’t miss the way something moves under his gray sweatpants. Your own eyes bulge, and you think you must have imagined it.

Eddie’s nerves are gone, and he dives in. He goes into great detail about how he uses his tongue. How he likes to lay it flat against their slit and drag it across their soft hole. How he runs a finger along that path. How it feels when he pushes his tongue inside someone. What it tastes like. You’re so thankful he can’t see your face, but you’re afraid he can feel the skin of your cheek burn through his shirt. You’re afraid he’ll catch a whiff of the arousal that’s pooling between your legs. You try to focus on his words, on his descriptions. It sounds wonderful, the thought of him tasting you the way he’s describing. It takes great effort to remember that you’re supposed to be helping him. And then you realize.

“Eddie, what about their clit?” You interrupt his diatribe about how soft the inner lips feel against his tongue, unlike anything he’s ever had in his mouth before, “it’s nice to feel a tongue like that, don’t get me wrong, but don’t you ever play with their clit?”

Eddie stops talking completely, so you peel your face off his shoulder to look at him. He looks confused and annoyed. Oh no.

“Sugar, can you elaborate for me?” Eddie’s voice is level but edged with something. The embarrassment is back, and you can see him fighting against it. He trusts you to not make fun.

“Oh, Ed. I’m sorry. Do you want me to explain what a clitoris is?” You ask the question with nonchalance in your voice. He doesn’t know it, but just mentioning the small sex organ has yours throbbing in answer. It’s saying, yes, tell him. Tell him how you want him to touch and suck. Tell him how to take me between his pretty red lips.

“Yes, please. I feel really stupid, but I don’t know what that is. Christ, I’ve been with loads of women, and no one has fucking mentioned-“ You put your hand over his mouth before he can continue. You don’t want to hear about loads of other women right now.

“Eddie, think about your own,” you motion down to the crotch of his pants, “business.” He giggles at you, low and sweet. “Shut up. Think about your dick, ok? You know when a girl’s giving you head, and she sucks real nice at the tip?”

Eddie gulps, you imagine he’s thinking about Cindy Manes’ cherry-colored lips wrapped around the head of his hard cock. Spit gathering at the corners of her perfect mouth. He nods and you continue.

“Women have a little spot above the vagina. It’s up close to wear the seam of our slit begins. It’s like a kind of hard nub.” You let yourself get lost in the technical stuff, it makes it easier to push on and forget that your legs are sticky from how turned on this entire situation has you. “It’s like the head of your dick, only more sensitive. Most women can’t have an orgasm unless you stimulate it. It will get bigger when we get aroused, kind of like when you get hard only it’s a lot smaller than what you’ve got.”

Like the cat that’s got the cream, you see Eddie smirking, “Yeah, what I’ve got is a lot bigger.” He spreads his hands a foot apart and his eyes go as wide as his shit eating grin.

The tension in the air evaporates, and you grab his midsection to tickle him. You want to make him pay for being crass. You want to make him pay for making you laugh at such a childish joke. It’s hands grappling for a moment before you find yourself underneath Eddie with his hair covering both of your faces like a curtain. His nose is almost touching yours, and for a moment you’re breathing each other’s air. You can feel his erection dig into your thigh, and you know now that he feels it too. That this conversation isn’t just embarrassing because he didn’t know, but because it’s with you. Someone he wants.

You lift your head off his mattress and meet his lips with yours. You wait to see. Let him decide if he wants to open his mouth and let you inside. A beat passes, and his lips part as his knee makes its way between your legs giving him leverage. A hand is behind your head. As your lips dance and tongues meet, your head drops back into the mattress. You’re holding onto each other and trying to keep yourself in this spot without floating off. This is what you’ve wanted for so long, and there’s no going back.

“Eddie, hey,” you manage to pull your lips away from him despite his own desperately chasing after them. Instead, he busies his with that spot on your neck just behind your ear while you talk, “Eddie. Do you want me to show you what I was talking about?”

Eddie’s hum sends a vibration against your skin, his teeth begin to skate against your skin. He answers around your flesh and his words shoot straight through you and down into the place that’s been aching for him, “Yes, Sweetheart. I wanna make you see stars.”

The following kisses are hungry, messy. Spit pools under your tongue while his knee presses into your center. Your fingers thread through his hair, and you pull to release the need that’s thrumming inside you. His whimper is music to your ears. You think this is a dream, and you do not care. Let it be. For now, you have him, even if it’s only in your imagination. He’s yours to taste, to smell, to touch, to hear. And you belong to him.

“Please, Eddie. Please.” You pull his hair harder, pulling him away from your face so you can see him. His mouth is open, his eyes are wide. His groan is deep in his chest, and he is looking into you. Just for a moment, he’s seeing you. He’s not just touching someone, kissing someone, he’s with you.

“I’m yours. Anything, my love. Everything I have. Show me.” He tells you while he gently removes your hand from his hair so he can make his journey south. It’s slow, and he kisses your clothed body every few inches during his descent until he reaches the waist of your jeans. He rests his head against your hip while his fingers work at your button fly. Each pop sends a jolt of anticipatory pleasure through you. You’re already writhing under his attention. He’s shushing you while he gently pulls your jeans down to your ankles and over your feet.

“You smell so sweet. I should have known, Sugar. This is better than I ever could have thought.” Eddie’s running his finger down your slit, over the cotton of your purple underwear. When you put them on this morning, you would not have admitted that you chose them for Eddie. They’re high cut with lace along the edges. Prettier than an everyday pair.

“You’re teasin’ me, Ed.” You manage to breathe the words out while your hips rock up to meet his finger. Your body is begging for more than what he’s giving you.

“Not teasin’. These are pretty,” Eddie hooks a finger under the waistband of your underwear, brushing against the soft hair underneath. He pulls them down so he can see you fully and lets out a breath of relief. “But not as pretty as this is.”

Eddie kisses your mound sweetly while a finger begins to dance between the lips of your pussy. He’s dipping into you gently, gathering the wetness there, before he adds more pressure. He’s mapping you, exploring with quiet patience. He’s listening, he’s tasting, he’s feeling. And then, while his mouth searches around the edges of your hips, his finger brushes against that spot. The one he’s only just learned about.

“There.” It’s a whisper, a prayer, spoken into the air around you. You only know he hears you when his mouth travels across your skin to meet the tip of his finger. He feels it now, he rubs at it, gently. He wants to memorize how it feels, he needs to know how to find it again. And then, his mouth is on your button. The tip of his tongue dances around.

You know there are words and sounds coming out of your mouth, and Eddie hears them all. While his mouth works, he doesn’t just listen to you, he hears you. Each sound, each word is an instruction. It’s a game of hotter and colder. He wants you to burn, to catch fire. So he hears you and moves accordingly.

You vaguely know that there are fingers inside of you, and you think you’ll have to teach him how to use them next time. Next time. You two have time. For now, you let yourself get lost in his mouth. You let him consume you. He knows what he’s doing now because you’ve taught him. He knows the secret that so many men never learn. Eddie is the best student when it comes to pleasure. When it comes to learning you.

Your orgasm builds quickly, your face is turned and buried in his pillow. You smell him on it while your hips rock up and meet his perfect mouth. Waves of pleasure that come faster and faster. His lips are holding tight to your nub. He’s never letting it go now that he knows what it can do. His fingers move with the rhythm of your hips, until it happens.

The sounds that leave your mouth are choked sobs. Your cunt is fluttering around his digits, and his mouth works you through each intense flash of pleasure. The stars behind your eyelids dance along with your body. You sit in your peak and groan like an animal until your body finally drops back into the mattress. Eddie’s mouth reluctantly pulls away from you when you firmly push his forehead away from you.

Eddie’s head rests against the bare flesh of your center. You can feel his hot breath fan across your wet pubic hair while you let the aftershocks slowly wane. You’re needy when you reach down and pull him up by the collar of his shirt. You need his face, you need his skin. You need his arms. He smells of you. His arms pull a blanket around your bare body. The cool air of the window unit has made your skin break out in gooseflesh. Eddie’s fingers run gently across your features, watching the way your open mouth still takes short and shallow breaths while you return to yourself.

He stays like that for a few moments. The uncomfortable cold and wet feeling in his pants becomes too much, and he gently shushes you when you reach out for him when he loosens his embrace.

“Just give me a minute, Sugar. Let me change.”

You watch him with blurry eyes as he deposits his pants and boxers, wet with his own cum, and puts on fresh clothes. You see his flaccid cock and think that next time you’ll show him how good your mouth can feel. You need a little nap first, in the embrace of Eddie. Your Eddie.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #no shelter

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ladykailitha · 4 months

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New Year's Eve

Hi!! I hope you all had a great year this year and that the next one is even better.

This is a sequel to this so be sure to read that first.

It does get spicy and there is a trigger warning for homophobic language (Steve's mom is a bitch).

Summary: Eddie and Steve ring in the new year as lovers and inspire others to do the same. Steve's mom tries to make trouble, but trouble finds her instead. All and in all, it's been a good year.

***

“I can’t wear that!” Eddie protested. “I’m going to the Newfield! I’m pretty sure it’s black tie to even breathe in its direction!”

Chrissy raised her eyebrow. “Do you want to know what Steve told me when asked me to help find you something to wear?”

Eddie looked at the red silk button up, the tight leather pants, the chunky boots and grey vest and then back up at her.

He sighed heavily. “Something about being me?”

“Close,” she admitted. “He told me that he wanted to make sure you stood out as the artist. That you were on display as much as your artwork. That people would look at you and go ‘yes, that is the master’. His words, not mine. But you don’t have to wear this. We can find something else.”

Eddie reached out to rub the silk of the shirt between this finger and his thumb.

“I’ll try it on first.”

Chrissy nodded.

He got dressed slowly, taking the time to admire each piece that Chrissy had picked out for him. The pants first. He loved the way they hugged his body without being skin tight. He pulled on the boots, happily twisting in the mirror. They went easily over the pants and highlighted how long his legs were.

Next came the shirt. It was a lot looser than he expected, making it almost billowy in nature. The silk felt divine against his skin. Chrissy tucked it into his pants and rolled up the sleeves. It kinda bunched at the waist, but when he put on the vest, it covered that immediately.

The whole ensemble was set off with leather bangles and chain bracelets on his wrists, a few necklaces that would show off the skin of the first three buttons of the shirt undone.

No earrings, though.

“I wanted earrings and to put your hair up,” Chrissy lamented. “But Steve said he liked your hair down.”

Eddie blushed. He had told Steve that a lot people seemed to think that because he had it long, he had to pull it back. But unless he was painting, Eddie liked it loose.

The fact that Steve had argued on his behalf in favor of leaving it down sent butterflies dancing in his ribcage.

“I like it,” Eddie said, looking into Chrissy’s three way mirror. “It’s classy without taking away who I am.”

Chrissy nodded. “Then I did my job right. I can’t believe I get to be your plus one at this.”

“Steve wanted to be my plus one,” Eddie said. “But then he found out he got ten free tickets to this it made the point moot.”

“Which means all your friends and family get to come,” Chrissy said with a fond smile.

He laughed. “More like he gets to invite all the kids because I also got ten free tickets as the featured artist.”

Her eyes went wide. “Really? So this going to be a blast tonight, isn’t it?”

He turned around a couple more times in the mirror. “Oh hell yeah!”

She clapped excitedly.

“Now show me your dress, Cinderella!” he crowed pushing her in the direction of her closet.

Chrissy giggled and pulled out a garment bag. She unzipped it and pulled out a long silver sheath dress with long sleeves and plunging neckline.

“Try it on and give me a twirl, love!” Eddie cooed.

She got out the underwear she was going to wear with it and slipped behind the mirror. Once she was dressed she stepped out and slowly spun in a circle.

Eddie wolf whistled. “You are going to finally bag that lesbian you’ve had your eye on with the dress, girly. You look fantastic!”

She tugged at the sleeve a little. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

Eddie picked her up and spun her around. “I think it’s perfect for an art exhibition.”

She blushed. “Yeah, okay. Let’s finish getting ready. We have to be at the Newfield by three so you can get everything how you want it.”

Eddie didn’t have much more to do so he wandered the loft a bit. It was strange to see it so empty. But all his artwork was either hung up or displayed to be auctioned off.

When Chrissy joined him, she had another garment bag and black silk shirt and deep blue vest.

“What’s this for?” he asked as he took the hanger from her.

“The exhibition tonight,” she said. “You can’t wear the same thing you wore to the auction, babe.”

He blinked at her in confusion. “Why not?”

“People are snobs,” was her curt response.

Eddie frowned but a slow smile spread over his face. “Does that mean that Steve has change too?”

Chrissy smacked his arm. “No sex in the Newfield, you heathen!”

“Well, someone has to pin the art to the walls,” he replied with a smirk.

She stared at him wide-eyed. “Did you just call Steve a work of art?”

“Yup!”

“Oh god,” she sighed. “This is going to be a long night.”

Eddie kissed her cheek. “You love me though.”

Chrissy batted him away. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

The auction was huge success and they ended up raising more than three million dollars for “Roll Initiative”.

And according to Steve there would probably be checks waiting for them at the end of the night, too.

Eddie was sad to see the blue jewel toned tux Steve had been in for the auction go, but the outfit he arrived in for the exhibition more than made up for it.

He was all in black with matching long tie and pocket square. From a distance you almost couldn’t see the tie at all. It made Eddie feel things. Uncomfortable things considering how tight these leather pants were.

Eddie was coming back with two glasses of champagne for him and Steve when he saw the most elegant woman he had ever laid eyes on in his life chatting with him.

He got a little closer and realized they weren’t chatting, it was far too heated for a chat.

“I don’t even know why you’re here, Mom,” Steve was saying.

Mrs. Harrington waved him off. “All board members get tickets to these sort of events and when I heard you had booked the night, I just had to see who my son would pick for his little pet artist.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I wasn’t expecting this.” She waved her hand at the artwork on the wall.

“And what’s wrong with it?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

She flicked his forehead. “Don’t scowl, Steven. You don’t have much good looks to ruin, but don’t ruin what you have.”

Eddie had bite the inside of his cheek to avoid throwing hands with this woman.

Steve leveled her with a glare. “You could have looked up who he was, Mom. You didn’t have to come.”

Mrs. Harrington sneered. “What if I wanted to see my son? To see what he had done with all the money his father had left him?

Steve straightened up. “Don’t act like you didn’t get the lion’s share of Dad’s money when he died.”

“It was the least he could do considering he died of a heartache in that woman’s bed!” she hissed.

Steve barely suppressed a giggle, Eddie did not. She turned to him and critically eyed his clothes, his hair, his tattoos.

“And who are you supposed to be?” Mrs. Harrington snarled.

Eddie walked up to Steve and handed him a glass. Then with his free hand, slid it around Steve’s waist.

Steve leaned into Eddie’s side, soaking up the warmth and support. “This is Eddie Munson, Mom. The artist being shown tonight and my boyfriend.”

Contempt darkened her face as she looked him over again. “Just like your father, throwing events for the whores that grace his bed as favors. I thought you better than this, Steven.”

Eddie bristled but Steve laughed outright. “Oh, Mom. You know nothing about me if you think that. When was this event put on the schedule?”

Mrs. Harrington wiggled her shoulders. “I wouldn’t know, dear.”

“Bullshit,” Steve snapped. “You know very well when it was.”

She glared at him. “Fine, back in August. I don’t know the exact date.”

“The seventeenth. For the silent auction,” Steve acknowledged. “When was it turned into the double event.”

She squirmed under his gaze until she folded. “After Thanksgiving.”

Eddie turned to Steve in shock. “What?”

“That was when I decided it would be my Christmas gift to you,” Steve murmured, nuzzling Eddie neck.

“But we didn’t get together until Christmas!” Eddie said.

Mrs. Harrington looked away.

Steve scoffed. “Which you probably also knew, considering how close you are to Dr. Martin Brenner, the head of the board. Because I called him on Boxing Day to let him know the change in plans regarding the speeches tonight.”

She turned to scowl at him.

“And I’m betting that’s when you decided you wanted to crash the party,” Steve continued. “You couldn’t let me enjoy tonight with all my low brow friends and my boyfriend.”

“It’s demeaning!” she hissed. “Your father would be very displeased if you saw you now.”

Steve laughed again. “That’s what you said when I bought out the stockholders. And again when I changed the way the company did business. And again when I hired Robin. And again when I had the Hendersons move in with me when they lost their house to a fire. And again when when I came out as bisexual last year. I’m glad he would be displeased with me, because that means I’m doing something right.”

Mrs. Harrington gasped, bringing her hand to her chest. “We didn’t raise you this way! To wallow in the depths of sin!”

“No, you didn’t and thank God that Steve didn’t listen to a god damn thing,” Eddie said, tightening his grip on Steve’s waist. “Because this is the best, most beautiful, bright, wonderful human being I’ve ever met and I’m happy I get to call him mine.”

“He’ll tire of you, you know,” she smirked. “Just like his father. Always hopping from one bed to the next. He was always like that. Even as a child, never being able to focus on one thing for long. The way he would just prattle on.”

Eddie could feel the blood boil up under his skin. He was sure that it was just his parents that made Steve feel like he was too much, but home should be safe.

“Sounds more to me like bad parenting,” he said nonchalant, “then it being a problem with Steve.” He kissed Steve’s cheek. “Come on, babe. Jeff and the boys wanted to meet you.”

And then they left her standing there sputtering and stomping her foot.

They went in search of Eddie’s friends, who were thankfully all grouped together.

“Finally we get meet the man, the legend,” the short, fluffy haired one that reminded Steve of Dustin.

“Steve, these the remaining members of the Hellfire Club,” Eddie said, steadfastly ignoring the comment. “Jeff Lawrence, his girlfriend, Miranda Steiner, Gareth Hughes and his twin Gethin, and Brian Martin. Gethin and Miranda aren’t participating members, but are important nonetheless.”

Steve waved. “Nice to meet you all.”

Miranda looked around. “When Eddie told us that you had organized all this for him, I didn’t believe it. But it’s so amazing for people to come see this, see his work.”

Eddie’s phone went off. Then again. And again. He pulled it out to look at it.

“Holy shit!” he cried.

“What’s up, Ed?” Gareth asked, cocking his head to the side.

“I’m getting notifications from my website of people buying prints and posters and mugs...” he whispered.

“Looks like you’re going to have to expand your marketplace, Eds,” Steve murmured before kissing his cheek.

“T-shirts,” Jeff suggested. “I always wanted one of the half-elf fighter.”

“Tumblers!” Gareth said excitedly. “Or those insulated coffee mugs.”

“Dice boxes!” was Miranda’s contribution. “You could even start getting dice made based on your work. Like a purple and green swirling one for the half-orc bard.”

Eddie’s eyes glittered. “And selling that stuff would give me time to work on my own passion projects plus being able to focus on the charity...” He turned to Steve. “And it’s all because of you, Stevie. I can’t thank you enough.”

He pulled Steve closed and kissed fiercely on the lips.

Steve was bright red when they finally pulled apart. “You did all the work, babe, I just forced people to look.”

Eddie kissed him again. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I might have a couple of ideas,” Steve growled low and seductive.

Eddie gulped and then turned to his friends. “Yup, bye. It’s nice to seeing you all, but I’ve really got to dash!”

He grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him toward the bathroom. He hit all the stall doors to make sure they were empty and locked the door behind them.

“I almost creamed my pants at your little suggestion,” his voice came out as a low rumble, deep and dark from his chest.

Steve’s eyelids drooped and he looked up at Eddie through his eyelashes. “Did you now? It must have been so painful in those pants, darling. Should I help you out?”

Eddie gulped. He had brought Steve in here for the express purpose of getting off with his boyfriend, but now faced with the actual prospect of seeing Steve on his knees had him shaking.

Steve ran his hands over Eddie’s torso as he slid to the floor. He looked at his watch and grinned. “We’ve got fifteen minutes before the countdown. Let’s see if I can get you off before then.”

Eddie staggered against the door for something to support him because he knew once Steve got his mouth on him, his knees were going to buckle.

Steve slowly unzipped Eddie’s pants and was pleased to see that no there was nothing between him and Eddie’s cock. He slid his hands up and down Eddie’s thighs as he took in the sight.

Eddie was about to tell him to hurry up when Steve licked a slow agonizing stripe up his length. His retort became a moan of pleasure.

“Fuck, Stevie,” he gasped. “You feel so good.”

And then Steve took him completely in his mouth and good wasn’t even close as a descriptor for how amazing it felt.

Steve was licking, sucking, and kissing in turns and all Eddie could do was grab the beautiful man before him and hold on for dear life.

It didn’t take long for Eddie to come down Steve’s throat with a breathy moan.

Steve tucked him away and then Eddie pulled him to his feet to kiss him deeply.

“Jesus fucking Christ, sweetheart,” he muttered against Steve’s lips. “That is the hardest I’ve ever come.”

Steve smirked. “That’s just the appetizer. The main course will be tonight after the exhibition. I just didn’t want you feeling uncomfortable all night because I gave you a raging hard on.”

Eddie chuckled. “My hero.”

Steve checked his watch and nodded. “We’ve got five minutes to wash up and get back out there before the ball drop.”

Eddie leaned his head against the door and let out a shuddering sigh. “I think mine already did.”

Steve laughed.

“Chrissy is going to kill me, by the way,” Eddie said once he had caught his breath enough to stand on his own.

“Oh?” he asked, looking up from where he was washing in hands in the basin.

“Yeah, she told me no sex in the Newfield,” he said, cocking his head to the side with an easy smile. “And that just happened.” He waved between them lazily indicating what they just got up to.

Steve laughed. “Oh boy, is she going to be in for a shock.”

Eddie walked over and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. “Yeah, how’s that, babe?”

“It’s a badly kept secret that the board brings their lovers in here all the time to fuck among the art.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, god. I can’t wait to tell her.”

Steve grinned back at him and they got cleaned up and made it back out to the main area before the countdown.

Mrs. Harrington glared at them when they emerged hand in hand.

The countdown began.

“10.”

“9.”

“8.”

“Happy New Year’s Eds.”

“5.”

“Happy New Year’s, baby.”

“2.”

“1.”

They pressed their lips together as fireworks ignited outside, bursting over top of the Newfield to ring in the new year.

When they broke apart, they looked around for all their friends and family. Dustin and Suzie were making out under Eddie’s painting of the Entwives. Lucas and Max had their heads pressed together as they held hands. Wayne and Claudia were happily chatting away near a statue of some Greek hero. All of the Hellfire club had clustered together and were toasting the New Year. Even Robin and Chrissy had finally sealed the deal, judging from the way Chrissy was laughing into Robin’s neck.

But no, the surprise of the evening was the way El was smiling and hopping up and down joyfully at Will and Mike slow dancing to the music in their heads. Mike’s hand gently pressed against Will’s side while his other hand was clasped in Will’s. Will’s hand kept stroking Mike’s face like if he stopped, Mike would vanish into thin air.

Eddie licked his lips. “Well that’s new.”

Steve laughed. “It most certainly is. But it’s also a long time coming. I think they had to grow up first.”

“Do you–you don’t think they got together because of us, do you?” Eddie asked shyly.

Steve scratched his cheek thoughtfully.

“I mean it might have got their heads of their ass,” he said after a moment. “But that a thought for another time. I’m practically vibrating to get you out of those clothes.”

“You’ve got it, baby,” Eddie murmured, kissing the side of his mouth. “Let’s go say goodbye and then we’ll leave.”

They said their goodbyes and had reached the door when Steve felt someone pull on his arm.

“Just where do you think you’re going, Steven?” Mrs. Harrington hissed. “There is still an hour left and having both the host and artist leave before the end? Scandalous!”

Steve shrugged her off. “I’m an adult, Mom. I have been for nearly a decade. You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“Maureen!” someone called out.

All three of them turned to see a distinguished older gentleman with a neat beard and shining eyes.

“Oliver!” Mrs. Harrington greeted.

Oliver Jensen was one of the museums biggest donors and on the board with her.

Steve grabbed Eddie’s hand and held it tightly.

“Word tonight has reached me of your homophobic views,” Oliver said with a rich accent that practically oozed grace and dignity. “I was hoping you would refute the rumor.”

Eddie squeezed Steve’s hand. He didn’t know who this man was but he would be stupid not realize that he was on their side.

“It’s a perversion in the sight of God!” Mrs. Harrington hissed. “This man has corrupted my son.”

Oliver tilted his head in confusion. “He came out as bisexual three years ago and only recently met Mr. Munson, how could he have corrupted your son?”

“Have you seen the filth this man puts on his website?!” she snarled.

Oliver blinked at her. “Yes, of course. Talented young man. I’m quite fond of the Drow BDSM scene with the spider web behind them. I was hoping that the original would have been up for auction earlier and was sadly disappointed it wasn’t.”

“Text Stevie your address,” Eddie said. “I’ll have it mailed right over.”

Oliver lit up. “Oh would you? It’s my husband’s favorite piece!”

Mrs. Harrington blanched. But then she turned red. “You Satan’s spawn! You’ll go to hell too!”

Oliver snapped his fingers and Mrs. Harrington was being pulled away, kicking and screaming.

He pulled out his checkbook. “Who do I make this out to?” he asked Eddie. “You or the charity?”

Eddie blinked. “You don’t have to! Think of it as a gift for throwing the old hag out.”

Oliver laughed. “So the charity then.” He wrote out the check and handed it over to Steve because Eddie was too stunned to take it.

“Sir,” Steve said. “This is too much.”

Oliver waved him off. “Nonsense. It’s great to see children being encouraged to participate in things outside the norm.” He patted them both on the cheek and walked away.

Eddie finally startled out of his daze to look over Steve’s shoulder. There in big, bold, black ink was a check made out to Roll for Initiative to the tune of one million dollars.

“Oh shit.”

Steve could only agree. He carefully put it in his wallet so he wouldn’t lose it and then took Eddie’s hand again.

“Here’s to the best year I’ve ever had,” Steve murmured.

“And here’s to the next one that will be even better!” Eddie agreed.

They kissed as the fireworks continued to burst in the night sky behind them.

Later they would go Eddie’s loft and strip each other bare. Then they would make love several times before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

And when Steve woke up the next morning he found Eddie in front of an easel.

He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. “What’s got you working at seven am on New Year’s day?”

Eddie relaxed against Steve’s broad chest. “A companion piece to your Christmas present.”

Steve nuzzled him right below his ear. “Oh?”

“Nothing about your painting said that it was a D&D yellow dragon,” Eddie murmured. “So after tea, the yellow dragon transforms and...” He shoved hair in front of his face, even though he knew Steve couldn’t see it at that angle.

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you show me what the dragon does to ravish his knight.”

“It’s a long way off from being finished.”

Steve took Eddie’s earlobe between his teeth. “I meant in the bedroom, darling.”

Eddie got up so fast that the knocked over the stool in his haste to get them back to the bedroom.

Steve laughed as he followed behind. He thought back to that day when he called and spoke Chrissy on a whim.

He had been so sure she would tell him to get lost. Dismiss him as just another creepy fanboy just trying to get into Eddie’s pants. He left the business card in their mailbox and hoped.

He got way more than he bargained for. All he wanted when he set out on this quest was to get something for the Party that they would cherish forever. What he got was lifelong friends, an amazing boyfriend, and Robin a girlfriend.

Perhaps magic existed after all.

***

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @carlprocastinator1000 @mogami13 @samsoble

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #businessman steve #artist eddie #autistic steve harrington #new years eve

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mafiasliege · 21 days

Text

Grayson Hawthorne Headcanons ✨🎻🏊‍♂️

(there's still like 10 hrs left on my poll but I'm impatient so 🙃 here we go hope y'all like them)

• he likes snow cones

• he sleeps hot (his brothers too, except xander) so he always needs the aircon to be really low

• he's had like 17 different tailors throughout his life because of how specific he is about his clothes 💀 (it's the only fragment left of his purported toddler nudist history, he NEEDS then to be comfy)

• has a natural profiling tendency (he's profiled multiple people in TBH)

• can sing well (canon), also he actually really likes to as well but never cultivated it as a yearly skill cuz he wanted at least one thing he liked to not become a competition 😞 (fuck you tobias)

• definitely keeps journals

• loves the sauna (there's definitely many of those in the house)

• loves eddie south and also likes to play jazz music more than classical, but tobias forbade it and made him focus on classical :( (cuz classical focuses more on perfection rather than jazz which is looser in approach)

• hates his gray eyes because he thinks they're really dull and cold 🥺

• he was that shy but smart kid in class whose report card description is always smth like "polite, quiet, and smart" (basically me tbh I was the shy kid 🤭)

• loved holding Jamie and Xan as babies 🥹

• sleeps like the dead (canon) but when they were all kids, he used wake up IMMEDIATELY when Jamie had a nightmare and wanted to be in his room 😭

#the inheritance games #the grandest game #tig #the brothers hawthorne #the hawthorne brothers #grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne headcanons #jameson hawthorne #avery grambs #xander hawthorne #nash hawthorne

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solarmorrigan · 1 month

Note

💖

Hello again 👀 A little longer this time, but mostly under a cut for content reasons!

💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out

Prompt from this post

Tags/Warnings: FTM Steve, terrible dirty talk, probably more of an M rating but please proceed at your own discretion

Eddie couldn’t say at what point they had stopped watching the movie, at what point Steve’s mouth had found his (or if it had happened the other way around), or even at what point Steve had ended up in his lap, but he does clock the minute Steve’s movements shift from lazy, feel-good rolls of his hips to a purposeful grind down against the obvious arousal tenting Eddie’s jeans.

His mouth goes a little slack, his kisses becoming looser things more about touch and shared breath than about any kind of technique as more little noises of pleasure free themselves into the air between them, and Eddie pulls back just enough to grin.

“Feeling good, baby?” he asks, hands sliding down to grip Steve by the hips.

Steve nods, ducking back in and pressing his mouth to Eddie’s, hot and wet and full, only to break away with a gasp when Eddie rolls his own hips, thrusting up against the welcoming softness of Steve’s core. He imagines doing the same once they’re both able to get their pants off and groans at the thought, but they’ll have to get off the couch in order to do that, and neither of them are quite ready to move just yet.

Instead, Eddie focuses on making Steve feel as good as he can right where they are, encouraging the way Steve grinds down against him with redoubled enthusiasm, kissing up the sharp edge of his jaw and smiling against his ear.

“Eager tonight?” he teases, without really expecting an answer. “Bet you’re already soaking through your boxers, huh, sweetheart?”

At that, Steve shakes his head, jarring Eddie from where his nose had been tucked into the soft spot beneath his ear. “No,” he demurs, and Eddie pulls back to look at him, one brow raised.

There’s color high in Steve’s cheeks, his eyes bright and pupils dark, lips are red and swollen, shining with spit as his tongue darts out to wet them, and Eddie smirks.

“No, huh?” he asks. “You’re telling me that if I got my hands into your pants right now, I wouldn’t find you dripping?” He leans in to press a kiss to the underside of Steve’s jaw, following the edge back down. “I wouldn’t find your little cock hard and throbbing?” He pauses at the point of Steve’s chin, biting at him – just a gentle scrape of teeth. “I wouldn’t find your pussy just begging for my fingers?” He presses a kiss to the spot he’d bitten and looks up at Steve through his lashes. “For my cock?”

“Holy shit, Eddie, shut up,” Steve breathes, more whine than admonishment as he grabs Eddie’s chin and angles him in for a hard kiss. His voice is a little firmer when he pulls back. “I didn’t say that.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows at Steve, inviting him to elaborate.

“Said I wasn’t soaking through my underwear,” Steve says with a smirk, before leaning in to let his next words brush Eddie’s lips. “Mostly because I’m not wearing any.”

Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever gotten his hands into Steve’s pants faster in his life.

#zerokrox-blog #listen when I say terrible I mean terrible #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #ftm steve harrington #trans steve harrington #eddiesteve #stranger things #solar wrote #answers from solar

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glorious-spoon · 10 months

Note

U …on a place of insecurity for steddie? 👀

Hi, and thank you! This got a little bit out of control, :D

The scars don't bother Eddie. They're not the first ones he's gotten; they won't be the last. He mourns the ragged bites missing from some of his tattoos, but he can always get new ones. And all things considered, as far as body art goes, it's hard to get more metal than a bunch of scars from being nearly torn apart by supernatural monsters.

Like. Metal as fuck.

It doesn't occur to him for a long time that Steve might feel differently. Part of it, at least for a while, is a case of embarrassing hero-worship that was probably inevitable after the guy slung him over his shoulders and carried him out of the underworld. Part of it is that Steve has a better poker face than Eddie anticipated, and a lot of experience at shoving down the stuff that bothers him so that he can keep moving.

So it takes him a while to notice that Steve wears collared shirts all the time now, scarves in the winter, turtlenecks that make him look like some kind of artsy hipster that he definitely is not.

The scar on his throat fades from vivid purple to pink, but it still shows up when he tans, which Eddie knows because Robin (and, okay, the judicious application of Eddie's best weed) has convinced Steve to pull off his shirt and join them in the lake on this particular late-August day when they are, for once, not babysitting a pack of children.

"Come on," Steve complains, but he seems looser now, easier in his own skin than he usually is these days.

"Come on," Robin mimics. "Or I'm going to push you in with your clothes on."

"I'd like to see you try," Steve mutters, but he peels his polo shirt up and off over his head and tosses it behind him on the dock. There's miles upon miles of gorgeous skin, dotted with freckles and moles, and—yeah, a whole bunch of scars. Most of them are similar to Eddie's: torn skin stitched back together, the ragged lines of grafts and stretch marks that the doctor assured him would fade with time, as if he gives a shit. Eddie's are worse, but Steve still has the look of a patchwork doll clumsily stitched back together in some places. The line around his throat makes Eddie wince, though. It looks like someone tried to hang him; it reminds him too vividly of that moment in the Upside Down. Steve on his back, trapped and struggling and slowly strangling as he was eaten alive.

Steve glances at him. His shoulders hunch, almost imperceptibly, and then he shakes his head and dives smoothly into the water, taking long enough to surface that Eddie considers panicking about it.

Then Steve's sleek head breaks the surface. Robin splashes him, and he blows a fountain of water at her, and then Eddie gets in on it and it rapidly turns into a free-for-all before they all finally retreat back to shore, exhausted, and Steve pulls his shirt back on without even waiting to dry off.

They don't talk about it, not then. But Eddie spends the rest of the day thinking about it, and the rest of the following day, and then it's a week later and he's making out with Steve on the couch at his new trailer, which has probably been a long time coming, to be honest.

Steve's an unsurprisingly good kisser, and he seems perfectly enthusiastic about Eddie's wandering hands, laughing under his breath and hauling Eddie in until he's straddling him. Eddie laughs, delighted, and kisses him again. It's all going fucking great until his fingers brush the edges of the scar that winds up to a narrow terminus under Steve's jaw.

He feels it when Steve goes still, and doesn't realize why for a moment. Then he remembers.

"Should I not—"

"Sorry," Steve says immediately, and drops his head back against the couch, wincing. Eddie shifts his weight, wondering if he should move. But Steve's hands are still on his thighs, and he doesn't seem like he's about to shove Eddie off.

"Nah, man, it's okay. I get it, trust me. If you want me to be like" —he lifts both hands, palm out, demonstrating— "you know, hands off about the battle scars kinda thing…"

Steve makes a face, half a wince. "You noticed that, huh."

"I notice a lot of things about you," Eddie says honestly.

"Sorry."

"Like, I totally get it—I mean, not totally, obviously, but I'm not gonna do something if it freaks you out."

Steve sighs. "It doesn't freak me out. They're just—I don't know. Fucking ugly."

"They're not," Eddie says immediately.

Silence for a moment. Then Steve says, "I'm sorry. That was a dick thing to say."

"Oh, what, you mean because we got matching body art now?" Eddie asks.

"I mean. Yeah."

"Doesn't bother me. They're metal as fuck."

Steve smiles a little. And it's wanting to keep that smile, maybe, that has Eddie sitting back across his thighs to pull his shirt off and toss it aside, leaving him on display—scars and all. Steve's breath catches a little, but the look on his face isn't freaked out; instead, it's soft and wondering. "Can I—?"

"By all means knock yourself out," Eddie says, and then Steve's warm hands are smoothing lightly up his sides, over the patchy scar tissue. It still feels weird—oversensitive in some places, numb in others—but something about the way Steve is touching him right now feels reverent, almost. Then he leans forward to press a careful kiss to the worst of them, a big ragged shiny patch spanning the front and top of Eddie's left shoulder. Eddie shudders; Steve sighs against his skin.

"You like that," he says.

"I'm gonna be totally honest with you, I'll probably like just about anything you want to do right now."

Steve huffs out a laugh, ducking his head, and leans up to kiss Eddie's mouth again. Then he leans back and peels his shirt off too, a quick movement that almost ends in him elbowing Eddie in the face.

He's gorgeous like this, all freckled skin and sturdy muscles. And yeah, the scars—it's not that Eddie doesn't get Steve's deal with them. They're a physical reminder of the pain, of all the shit they went through, and they're the kind of thing that most people would probably have questions about, even if that question was just holy shit what happened, did it hurt?

Eddie was there, though. He knows.

"You can touch me," Steve says after a moment, during which Eddie seriously contemplates sitting on his hands to keep from doing exactly that. "If you want."

"Oh, thank god," Eddie says, all in a rush, and Steve starts laughing, the tension between them breaking.

Or not breaking, he thinks, as he slides a careful hand up Steve's scarred chest, lightly flicking a nipple as he goes and watching the quick intake of breath that nets him. Not breaking, just changing shape. Becoming sweeter. He keeps touching Steve, slow and careful, and feels Steve's tense body loosen beneath him just as slowly. Only then does he lean forward to press his mouth to the side of Steve's throat, where the scar is thickest.

Steve's breath catches again. Eddie stills.

"This okay?" he asks. His lips don't leave Steve's skin, so he can feel the way that Steve swallows before he nods.

"Yeah," he whispers. "It's okay."

Eddie kisses him again, closed-mouthed and lingering and as sweet as he can make it.

"Just means we survived," he whispers. "All this shit just means we made it. We're still here."

"Yeah," Steve whispers again. He tilts his head back, baring his throat to Eddie's mouth, and shudders when he kisses him there again. "I'm really glad we're still here."

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #prompt fic #my fic

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