#also eddie's face is so fucking funny.

[lumaxramblings]

i need to know if this was in the script of if maya hawke just. decided it was the right time to do that

[madelynraemunson]

pass the salt • e.m. smut

DAD’S BEST FRIEND!OLDER!EDDIE x FEM!READER

part two here

summary: you’re home from college and staying with your dad for the summer, spending as much time as you possibly can with him…and his hot best friend that you’ve never seen in your life.

authors note: okay have you guys ever seen those text posts like “when you say ‘daddy pass the salt please’ and your father and your man both reach for it” 💀💀 well this is inspired by that concept. also i went overboard and this is a LONG BOI

disclaimers — photo credits to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple 🫶🏼porn with plot, reader’s nickname is “sunshine”, reader has female anatomy, race unspecified, divider: @iluvpooks

NSFW — 18+ obv, porn with plot, daddy kink pls keep scrolling if it’s not ur thing, slight age gap (eddie is mid to late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), corruption kink, size kink, masturbation (m&f), p in v sex (protected), dirty talk, teasing, sexual innuendos, extreme flirting, eddie kinda being a perv, praise kink

The sound of breakfast on the griddle summons you downstairs.

Dad never cooks.

For as long as you can remember, weekends at your dad’s have always consisted of Lucky Charms cereal and powdered donuts. That tradition continued even after you started college.

Oh yeah. Someone is here, alright. Someone Dad desperately wants to impress.

Trailing after the commotion, your fuzzy pink slippers guide you down the wooden steps of your dad’s ‘bachelor pad’ and into the kitchen. And when you near the bottom of the steps, you can make out two distinct voices — one belonging to Dad, another belonging to someone who's identity is obscure.

“God, I fucking missed you, Jeff. Missed everyone so much.”

The smells of pancake batter, cigarette smoke, mint, and petroleum fuel reel you in, but not nearly as much as the sight of the man sitting on the opposite side of your dad. He's built, handsome with wavy brown hair, leather, black denim, twiddling a toothpick between his teeth as he listens to your dad speak with a smile on his face. That is, until you come into sight. It then that his intense focus circles in on you.

Funny. You don’t remember this friend. And something in your gut tells you that you won’t ever be forgetting him after this.

The stranger's grin curls into a wonder-filled smirk. You can feel your knees start to buckle.

“Uh oh. Looks like our shenanigans woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

When you get a closer look at Dad’s friend, you observe his faint brown beard — neatly kept and lightly peppered with some gray — delicious lips, shiny white teeth, and grooves along his laugh lines that would deepen with every theatrical cackle he belted out.

You can't help but freeze in your tracks as him and your dad continue on with their banter, reliving their glory days like it was yesterday. Man. What a damn dreamboat.

Your dad’s eyes light up with glee when he sees you.

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine!” Dad cheers. “Thought you’d never wake up. This is my friend Eddie. We were in that band together in high school. Come say hi.”

"Yeah, come say hi," Eddie agrees. feeding into the obvious tension in the room. "I don't bite."

The stranger laughs at his own comment as soon as he utters it.

There’s a charm — a magic — about Eddie that could only be found in Hollywood or the Big City. But of course, you didn't expect any less from Dad's supposed ‘Rockstar Friend’.

When your parents had you at 17, life went on for Dad’s band Corroded Coffin. And although he missed out on the ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock&Roll’, Dad insists that tea parties and white picket fences were an ideal trade-off. Because — despite how things ended with Mom — it still meant a life spent with you.

You tell him your name as Eddie offers you his hand to shake. Electricity serges through you when your hand is enveloped by his firm, calloused one. Eddie smiles down at you, his presence all-consuming. It's almost as if he knows it. And as much as you were dying to, you resist the urge to fall into him.

Eddie's no better.

It takes everything in Eddie's power to keep his eyes above your collarbones, reprimanding himself with the utmost tedium. Because heaven knows he'd be TOAST if his best friend found out that Eddie thought that you were absolutely stunning — strutting around the house the way that you do, without a bra underneath that poor excuse of a sleep shirt — a sleep shirt far too tight for your own good. With tight, pajama shorts to match…

Of course, this is all an assumption…Not that he caught wind of it or anything.

“You know…” he mentions. “Your dad has told me SO much about little miss Sunshine.”

“Me, really?” is all you can say behind those fuscia cheeks.

“Really,” Eddie insists. “He never shuts up about you, darling.”

“Hopefully you’ve only heard good things,” you mutter faintly.

And instantly, your dad and Eddie share a laugh.

“Only good things,” Eddie assures you. He nudges your dad playfully.

Your dad doesn’t exactly deny the last part, basically confirming to Eddie that you’ve got a hint of spunk to you. The heat settles at your cheeks as you shy away from your father’s curious friend.

Taking note of how timid you’ve just become, Eddie furrows his brows.

“What — was that an implication that you’re not always good?”

“No comment,” your smile melts into an awkward one.

“Kept me on my toes back then,” your dad reflects with a sigh. “Keeps me on my toes now.”

“You don’t say…” Eddie smirks slightly, gaze panning back over to you.

Eventually your dad leaves you two alone, going into the garage to fetch something that he insists Eddie would like. But little did he know that such thing was already in the room, leaning…reaching into the fridge for some orange juice, not realizing its atmosphere caused your nipples to harden.

Eddie’s eyes proceed to follow you as you strut back to the griddle, flipping some hot cakes over before tending to your messy bedhead.

Eddie probably doesn’t know — or maybe he does, who knows? — that you feel him staring at you. It’s a burning gaze that practically impales you, but you’re too nervous to say anything. You’re better off pretending like it’s something you don’t notice.

You and Eddie continue to help yourselves to breakfast, enjoying the company of each other and your mutual silence. That is, until Eddie speaks up.

“Got some sausage for you if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” you sputter, looking up from your food.

Eddie shoots you a weird glance as he holds up some breakfast franks.

“Sausage?” he repeats. “Store was out of beef so I settled for turkey. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you clear your throat. “I love turkey sausage.”

“Okay, good,” Eddie chuckles, seemingly relieved at how quickly the situation had diffused.

“Cool,” you chuckle with him while taking some links to cook.

The silence returns once more and is replaced by the sizzling of the grill. It’s short lived, however, because soon, the man nearly twice your age speaks again.

“What’d you think I said?” Eddie circles back.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just looked stunned.”

“I just woke up,” you shrug. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he smirks. “Get that thing out of the gutter.”

The coming days paved way for some more innocent flirting.

…Like when you make sure to wear the shortest skirt in your closet when running Eddie his afternoon beer in the garage.

“Well don’t you look absolutely darling…” he says as he peers up from his guitar.

“Hehe,” you smirk connivingly. “Thank you!”

“You are so welcome.”

Eddie downs the liquid guilt along with his pride, watching you strut around…the hem of that pleated cotton fabric just barely covering the roundness of your asscheeks. And as you blush a rosy pink when you process his little remarks, Eddie can only clear his throat in arousal, fantasizing about just how badly he wanted to turn your other cheeks that very shade.

…Or when you come downstairs the next day to help Dad manually wash his car.

While he and Eddie are harassing each other with soap and that god-forsaken hose, you decide to join in on all the fun.

“Watch out, Sunshine,” Eddie forewarns. “You’ve just entered the splash zone!”

And with the intention of cooling you off on a hot summer day like this, Eddie teasingly sprays you with said hose, your white shirt becoming transparent when lathered with water. He could see everything. Your erect nipples. Your perky tits bouncing in the sunlight as you jump around in excitement. How glazed your oil-nnuendo’ed skin looked when glimmering in the sun. All as intended.

“You got me,” you surrender yourself to him. “You got me good, Eddie.”

And when you walk away, Eddie mutters slyly to himself.

“Yes, yes I did.”

…And then there’s dessert after dinner.

Eddie watches as you lick your popsicle, his fingers curling at his thighs in arousal as you retract the wrapper before enclosing your lips around the bright pink dessert. And he swears he’s going to blow his pants when he envisions the melted sugar shooting into your mouth with the swiftest hollowing of your cheeks, the quiet suction noise you make with your pursed lips forcing him to adjust the way he’s sitting.

…The final instance takes the cake.

“What’s your major?”

You’re in the home library grazing some of Dad’s old books and vinyls, talking to Eddie while your father gets ready for the day. Meanwhile, Eddie is perched at your dad’s desk, rolling around in his expensive swivel chair and occasionally doing some spins on it to make you laugh.

“History.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You just haven’t found a topic that interests you,” you point out.

“Mm,” is all Eddie says. “Maybe I will eventually.”

Eddie watches as you waltz around in front of him, following your movements with his eyes as you get onto your tippy-toes in order to grab some books on the top shelf.

“Oh my god!” you yelp.

Your plan to entice him seemingly fails when you graze a book that’s halfway off the shelf. It’s already flying off of its platform, headed straight towards Eddie's lap before you can even stop it.

Eddie catches it before any damage can be done, saving Dad’s old campaign book with the hand furthest from you and snaking the other around your waist to prevent you from sinking any further into him.

Phew. Crisis averted.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you gasp in embarrassment. “That book has a mind of its own.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie laughs. “Can’t defy the laws of gravity. Sometimes it betrays us.”

You feel yourself burning up a fever. Excusing yourself from the room, you leave Dad’s library and make your way over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

But you’re nearly taken aback when you feel tight, calloused hands wrap around your hips, and like a feather it’s like you’re whisked away into the air, and soon your body is pressed up against the wall.

Slam!

Breathing heavily against each other now — chest to chest, lips so unbearably close you can smell the whiskey — Eddie draws you even closer to him. You both study each other intently. It’s like you’re waiting for the other to say something. Eddie does the honors and speaks first.

“I wasn’t born last night, doll. I was also your age at one point.”

———

To his own despair, Eddie touches himself later that night. Facing your room, he strokes his rock hard cock with his lotioned-up hand, running his thumb across the slit of his head, pretending it’s your tongue giving him a little tease like you did the popsicle.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts quietly. “You like when I fuck your throat, baby? Gonna suck me dry with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You’re playing make-believe just as much. Because at the same time, in your room, you’re a drooling, pathetic mess, riding your wall-mounted toy to oblivion in your bathroom, legs trembling when the thick, veiny piece of silicone slams into the spongy part of your heat, initiating shock-waves all across your body.

“Eddie,” you find yourself blubbering. “EddieEddieEddieEddie…”

You both know it can’t be like this, but that was the mere thrill of it all. And when you both have overcome your peak, just one mere wall apart, the floodgates of guilt outweighs both your arousals the way it comes pouring in.

So, so wrong. But oh, so right.

You’re anticipating…waiting…aching for Eddie to make the next move.

He doesn’t.

“Going to the store again,” Eddie announces. “Hopefully this time they’ll have beef sausage. Need anything?”

Need you, is what you think. But you end up shaking your head, a part of you disappointed that you and Eddie won’t be able to spend some time alone together.

“No,” there’s defeat in your voice.

“Are you sure?” Eddie questions softly.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Okay,” he gives you a grin, one in the form of a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back. You be good.”

“Ha-ha,” you roll your eyes.

——

Eddie leaves the door of his room open that night. Just a smidge. You end up following the sound of his TV that he’s placed at a low volume, making out that it’s Seinfeld just by Jerry’s voice and the laugh track.

Your heart skips a beat as Eddie laughs along with the show, shaking his head at a stupid joke. But he shifts his focus immediately onto you when he sees you at the doorway.

“Having some alone time tonight?” you ask him.

“Mmm…not by choice,” he responds. “Tuckered your dad out after dinner doing P90X.”

Eddie follows a crazy workout routine. He says that it helps with his stamina, especially when he does crowd work during his stage performances. Your mind can’t help but wonder what else he may be using it for.

You snort. “Yeah. Dad wasn’t what you’d call an athlete in high school.”

Eddie laughs at that too. Both you and him know that.

He then pats the space on his bed beside him. “Wanna come watch with me?”

Your stomach does a series of cartwheels when you process Eddie’s question. You know what’s bound to happen if you follow through. And it seems Eddie knows it too. Even if there wasn’t any sexual tension between you both already, the concept of it all would rub anyone that way.

But you still follow through with it. Just like Eddie knew you would.

“You comfortable?” Eddie asks you, eyeing you endearingly as you squirm around on the bed.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good…” he replies, voice nearly at a strained whisper now.

You two watch the show in silence for a few minutes, exchanging commentary and pleasantries regarding the show every so often. It’s not too long after Eddie pulls a laugh from you that he starts closing up the space between you both, scooting himself closer…and resting his gruff palm over the base of your knee.

You inhale sharply as he does so. And evident by your refusal to pull away, it’s enough of a green light for Eddie to hike up further.

A soft moan escapes your mouth from the back of your flustered throat, but you bite your lip in restraint.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?”

You shrug sheepishly as Eddie continues to graze your thigh. Your breathing falters even more.

“Don’t be scared,” Eddie coos.

“I’m not,” you insist.

“Then what’s stopping you from getting on top of me? Hm?”

He’s in between your legs now, the rough material of his denim jeans riding up your sex, teasing your clit with every calculated rub against it.

“And riding my rock hard cock til those pretty legs give out?” Eddie continues. “I see how you’ve been looking at me, doll. It's all over your face how bad you want it.”

“The bed is squeaky,” you answer honestly. “And that headboard is a lost cause.”

Eddie puts the dirty talk on pause, squirming around to assess the guest bed’s squeak factor. When it checks out, he gives you an understanding nod. You giggle.

Eddie wastes no more time. You watch as he grabs one of the pillows on the bed and wedges it between the wall and headboard. He issues you a sly smile.

“Oldest trick in the book.”

You're back to fooling around shortly after, your aching core burning with lust as you pine for him.

“The boys at school ever touch you this good?” Eddie quips rubbing circles around your puffy, needy folds as you hopelessly cling to him out of pleasure.

“No, Eddie.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He continues to tease, gliding his fingers along your slit before slowly inserting two large digits inside of you.

His calculated pumps into your needy pussy are steady, a pace so agonizingly beautiful that it makes you squeal sweet nothings into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, baby," Eddie hushes you. "Your dad's gonna hear us. Gotta be quiet for me, mkay?"

Your hot, messy, and muffled sounds cease as Eddie soothes your quivering lips with his tender ones.

The wet sounds that ricochet and fill the room in tandem is almost enough to send him over. And Eddie is sure to communicate that… with an abrupt curving of his three thick fingers.

Fuck.

Needing him direly now, you tug helplessly at his pants.

“God, Eddie,” you whimper. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

Eddie laughs at the desperation. He hasn’t ravaged you to his fullest extent yet, and you’re already a pooling mess beside him.

“Well since you said please, sweet girl,” Eddie obliges as he starts to undress himself. “Your wish is my command."

You watch Eddie as reaches over into the bedside drawer for a fresh box of condoms. Looks like the sausage links weren't the only things he went to the store for.

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at your observation before shrugging. Can you really blame him? You both knew what was coming.

You watch with absolute lust as Eddie slides the piece of rubber over his long, girthy, throbbing cock. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before, and the snarky, hooded-eye smile as he watches you fawn reveals to you that he knows exactly how to use it.

"On your stomach, babygirl. Will have you all nice and pounded out just like you wanted.”

You situate yourself in prone and spread your legs for Eddie to line himself up against them. He teases his wrapped cock against the entrance of your pussy, and when his soothing countdown is over, your lips part in disposition as you accommodate his ruinous stretch.

A throaty moan spills out of the both of you the moment Eddie snaps his hips in and out of you. Meanwhile, one of his hands lays tauntingly at your stomach, so the prideful man can feel himself wriggling inside you, glazing his shaft with your slick more and more with every pump into your weak cunt.

"Fuck, Eddie... yes..." you mewl. "R-right there, Eddie, please..."

And then it picks up. You can feel Eddie’s hips practically collapse right onto you, his balls slapping against you as he digs further into your body.

"God damn..." the man sighs in disbelief.

He can only beam down at you in awe. You were taking him so good, pussy swallowing him so nice and tight. And when you nestle your ankles between each other to keep him there in prone, the nearly cries out in pleasure, but refrains because he knows your dad is resting — just a thin wall over.

That still doesn’t stop him from going to town though. Practically seeing stars, the broken record of a mouth that belongs to you chants Eddie’s name like it’s all you know. Eddie attempts to keep you contained, offering you his fingers to suck on as he’s railing you dumb.

And when he fucks you through your climax, Eddie continues with his string of lust-filled praises, satisfied at himself that he was able to make you wet enough to soak the mattress.

“Did so good for me, angel,” he praises you as he sucks at your temple. “Always knew you weren’t all that innocent.”

The griddle comes out again on Eddie’s last day. But this time, for a homestyle southern dinner.

You and Eddie were on mashed potatoes and gravy duty at the stove, an ordeal that only opened doors for lots of innuendos on Eddie’s part. Meanwhile, Dad insisted on making the rest, having taken pride in continuing his Mama’s legacy.

“This is amazing, Daddy,” you rave. “I really missed this. Do you mind passing the salt, please?”

And to your horror, you watch as your father and Eddie automatically extend their arms, bumping into one another in the process en route to getting you the salt.

The gentlemen meet each other’s eyes.

“Ohp!” Eddie exclaims, letting out a slight chuckle. “Sorry.”

You try your hardest not to blush. Eddie kicks you from under the table, and softly he oh-so-seductively he mutters,

“I was just tryna help her out.”

[xiaq]

I want an AU where Steve is a werewolf and Eddie is a vampire except neither of them know about the other.

Eddie is the frontman of an up and coming band, but he's left his coven and surrounded himself with humans. They perform after sunset anyway so it's easy enough for him to hide his nature.

Steve has similarly left his toxic family pack and built his own pseudo-pack through the kids. He works as a park ranger. Or an ornithologist. Or something else nature-y/nerdy. But no one knows about his furry little secret.

Maybe Steve ends up attending a concert with one of the kids who has VIP passes and Eddie zeros in on Steve immediately at the meet and greet because he's pretty and preppy and delightfully out of place and also he smells good. And Steve is having similar thoughts, but he tries to play it off because there's no way an honest to god rock star would be interested in him and his polo and his boat shoes (also his hearing is temporarily fucked from the concert, so he doesn't register Eddie's lack of heartbeat).

After some light flirting, Eddie invites Steve back to his hotel and Steve is like, you know what? Yes. I am going to have a one night stand with the gorgeous front man of a metal band and I'll probably fall a little in love with him by the end of the night and it will break my heart when he kicks me out in the morning, but it will be an experience. Let me go drop off my kids and I'll be right back.

Except what he doesn't know is Eddie is planning to have a little snack while they're in the throes of passion––not enough to hurt Steve or anything, just enough that he'll have a pleasurable blackout and wake up tired but sated.

The only problem is that neck-biting (that breaks the skin) for wolves is the equivalent of marriage.

So when Eddie bites Steve, instead of a venom-drunk human, peacefully slipping into sleep in his arms, he gets a very horny, very confused, werewolf who is now insisting that they're married.

I can't decide if it would be funnier if Wolves/Vampires didn't know about each other, Ie:

"You're a Werewolf?" Eddie says, "What do you mean you're a werewolf? Werewolves exist? No. Shut up. Prove it."

And:

"Holy shit. A vampire. Vampires are real," Steve reaches for Eddie's face and Eddie is so baffled by the everything of this situation that he lets Steve pinch Eddie's top lip and peel it up off his fangs for a mortifyingly long moment. Eddie draws the line when he starts poking at Eddie's incisors, though.

"Why do I feel funny?" Steve mutters. "Will your venom kill me?"

"How should I know," Eddie hisses, only a little hysterical, "I didn't know wolves existed until two minutes ago, I've never bitten a wolf before."

"And you won't be biting any others, mister. Infidelity is not ok."

The other option is that wolves and vamps DO know about each other but stay so isolated in their covens and packs (and loners are super unusual) that they never interact. So Steve and Eddie are both like, dang, I'd been raised to think all of your kind were smelly/ugly/gross, but you uh, don't fit into that box at all. Weird.

Regardless, Steve (still naked, probably) crosses his arms all huffy, like, "well, we're married now, you're not going to bite me and then cast me aside like some harlot," and Eddie is like "...I'm weirdly ok with this, actually. No arguments here." And eventually they live happily ever after.

[wheneverfeasible]

It had just been a joke.

He’d been bleeding out, dying, the pain from the demobat bites fading as that unending cold started to seep into his limbs. He was dying and Dustin was crying over him and he didn’t want to say goodbye but what else was there to do?

Pounding footfalls and then Steve and Nancy and Robin were skidding to his side amongst the fallen demobats and Steve was telling him to hang on, to not die, that they were there. Nancy and Robin were tearing garments to wrap around his bites but he didn’t care overly much, figuring it was for nothing. Instead, he was focused on Steve’s hand in his, pleading with him to hold on, and it was clearly just him babbling, but he’d said he’d do anything Eddie wanted if he just hung on.

And really, what better time to come out as gay to your crush than on your deathbed? Or, death-patch-of-dirt anyways.

“Go on a date with me then, Harrington,” he coughed out, choking on blood that splattered on his chin. Sexy.

Steve was noticeably shocked, and confused, but he gamely agreed if Eddie just promised not to die. Eddie blacked out with a grin on his face. He’d thought that was it, thought it was all over, except then he started feeling pain again. Which fucking sucked. Kind of rude to feel pain in death, unless Hawkins had been right and he was in Hell now. Bummer.

But then he heard the beeping, felt the cold air being forced into his nostrils, and he blinked open eyes that felt glued shut. Things were all woozy and fuzzy, but he saw big brown eyes staring at him and a smile he’d never thought he’d see directed at him of all people, and Steve was holding his hand again and that was nice.

Apparently he’d been in a coma for a month. Hilarious.

Steve had told him he’d been begging him to wake back up, they all were, and Eddie was high enough on pain killers to tease, “Didn’t think I’d let you out of our date that easily did you, big boy?”

He’d fallen back asleep almost immediately afterwards, so he didn’t get to see Steve’s reaction to that one, which was probably for the best, all things considered. Except Steve kept coming back, and he kept up the joke about taking Eddie on a date once he was better, even using it as encouragement when Eddie wanted to just give up and die from the pain he was in due to the multiple surgeries he was recovering from and undergoing.

Despite all that, he slowly but surely healed, able to finally move into the small house the government’s hush money had bought for them with Wayne after they also got him cleared of all charges yadda yadda yadda. Pretty sick deal, all things considered. All it took was being framed for multiple murders done by a psychotic supervillain and nearly mauled to death by demon bats. Easy peasy.

When Steve had given him a time and date for their supposed date, Eddie was just happy that the guy was able to joke about it with him instead of freaking out in typical Straight Jock. Steve apparently acknowledged his crush and still wanted to be friends, which was better than he could hope for. Or so he thought.

Because there was Steve, on his front porch, flowers in hand and looking far spiffier than Eddie ever recalled him looking like before. It looked like he’d even gotten a haircut. Good lord.

And it was amusing really, truly it was funny how far Steve was willing to take the joke, but something broke inside Eddie too because he was For Real Super Gay For Steve Harrington, but for Steve it was Just A Joke. And Eddie couldn’t take it anymore.

He snapped, hurt by his feelings not being taken seriously, and ranted about ex-jocks and pretty straight boys who treated being queer like a joke. Though Steve looked shocked at first, he ended up just looking amused by the end, which annoyed Eddie further. He was just about to enter another diatribe when Steve cut him off with a simple sentence that took all the wind out of his sails and left him gaping like a fish.

“Thanks for calling me pretty, but I’m actually bisexual.”

Eddie blinked. Steve smiled. Flowers were pressed into his hand.

“Now, the only joke around here is thinking my date can wear sweatpants to our dinner reservations, so go change into something appropriate, Munson. Honestly.”

As Eddie was ushered to his bedroom to change into something more fitting than stained and holey sweatpants, he tried to figure out where he had, in fact, lost the narrative. Because it had just been a joke.

But somehow he had ended up with a first kiss, a real life boyfriend, and a happily ever after he never would have expected. Go figure.

[lunaraindrop]

We Are Not The Kissing Space Twins

Fic by lunaraindrop

Now with an actual title!

Steve didn’t know how to feel. He was just...numb. He left his house as if in a daze. The lasagna his mom tried to say was homemade, but he knew was secretly from Enzo's sat funny in his stomach.

His mom.

Legally, she was still his mother. Has been since the day after he was born.

His dad, too.

Legally, Steve was a Harrington.

He drove the Beemer aimlessly, until he came to a familiar trailer.

He knocked on the rickety door, silently kicking himself for not calling ahead to make sure he didn't disturb Wayne's sleep.

It was too late for that, though. Eddie opened the door. "Stevie! I thought you had that thing with your parents! I wasn't expecting..." The exuberant words of his friend trailed off and melted into a concerned silence. The man open the door widely and wedged his way through the doorway to put his arm around Steve's shoulders. He guided him to the couch, and sat both of them down in a clump.

"Steve, what happened?"

And Steve, so unsure how to feel about this situation, burst out an awkward laugh, even as tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.

"I'm apparently adopted? My biological mother is my mom's dead sister."

Eddie's eyes grew nearly to the size of dinner plates. "What?"

Steve turned to him, wild eyes and bitchy. "Yes! See? They acted like it was no big deal! 'Oh, Steven. It's time you knew that your father couldn't have children. We decided to adopt you when my sister died in that car accident. Please pass the peas.' Like, what the fuck do I do with that?!"

Eddie nodded to himself. "She died, and then they adopted you?"

The tears welled in his eyes. "She died while she was still pregnant! I was a premie. Since I was a boy, dad-Richard decided this was a 'prime opportunity' to have the Harrington name live on', or some shit."

Eddie held his friend close, then offered to get him a beer. They silently sipped from the bottles. Eddie could tell something else was weighing on Steve's mind, and knew he needed to give the guy a few moments to find the right words.

He wasn't disappointed.

"You know, Eds. That isn't even the worst of it?"

Not disappointed, but certainly surprised. "It gets worse that your parents never told you that you were adopted, and your birth mother is actually your deceased aunt?"

Steve nodded before taking a large pull. "Uh, yeah. Apparently, I'm also a twin."

Eddie nearly dropped his bottle. "A-a twin? A twin! There's two of you out there?"

That actually earned him a rueful smile. "I have a twin *sister*, dumbass."

Eddie nodded in what he pretended to in a sage way. "Yes, that makes sense. The world could not survive the charm and hair of two Steve's. That's like having two suns. We would not survive!"

Tension lifting for just a second, Steve playfully shoved his secret crush, blushing just a little.

"Ha ha. But speaking of the charm...what if I'm like Luke Skywalker?"

Eddie furrowed his brows. "How'd you mean?"

Steve flexed his hand in his lamp, staring at the other boy with fear. "I've dated a lot of girls, Eddie. What if...what if I've kissed my sister?!"

Eddie reared back. "Oh! Eww! Steve, why?!"

Steve flailed. "It's a valid concern!"

Grasping at straws to wipe *that* thought from the boy he love's face, he blurted out, "Maybe your secret twin is a lesbian?"

Part 2

[blueywrites]

baby can we smoke?

eddie munson x ditsy!fem!reader you're the last person eddie expects to leave a note in his locker, but he won't regret meeting you out by the picnic table.

2.8k

cw: 18+. innocent reader (not minor-coded), corruption kink, weed usage, allusions to smut while high, no y/n, no physical descriptions.

Another 'naughty nights' ask that got a bit lengthy (check out the original ask here). I had fun writing from this perspective! Should I continue this with a part two? 👀 Let me know what you think. (PART TWO IS HERE!)

enjoy xx

Eddie finds the note in his locker right before lunch. It's written on a quarter of a math worksheet, ripped carefully at the folds and decorated with little doodles of hearts and clouds and shooting stars drawn in sparkly purple pen. That's not the only note in there, but it’s the only one that has him curious, ‘cause it’s from you.

He stops by your lunch table just before the final bell, letting his eyes rove over you while you aren’t paying attention. You’re wearing your typical attire: a fuzzy, pastel-colored sweater, baggy and soft-looking like cotton candy, paired with a little pleated skirt and that heart locket he always sees hanging from your neck in the class you share. He hadn’t pegged you as the type of girl to smoke, and it isn’t just because of the way you look since his clientele is diverse, dips into almost every pocket of the high school social ecosystem. It’s more the way you carry yourself— you seem to kind of float through life, let it bob you about without any resistance or, like, awareness, even? Like, you hum to yourself while you take notes; you don’t talk a ton, but when you do, you’ll talk to literally anybody who’s in proximity to you, including the teachers; and you’re always either giggling or smiling or, sometimes, wearing a look of vague confusion where your glossed lips will hang open, parted in a little ‘o’ like with all your concentration focused on trying to understand something, you have nothing left over to control your face.

Eddie doesn’t wanna call you dumb because that’d make him feel like an asshole, but you just seem so… innocent to be asking him to teach you how to smoke weed. It briefly crosses his mind that someone might just be trying to fuck with him and you hadn’t actually written the note, but when you finally notice him nearby, your wispy-lashed eyes widen eagerly like you’d been expecting him. 

“Yeah, so,” you say, as if continuing a conversation you’d already been having with him, “I really wanna get high, and Susie said you’re the one who sells weed, but I just don’t know how to smoke. I’ve never done it before, not even, like, cigarettes or anything.”

You seem oblivious to the way several heads at the tables around yours swing around to stare, easily overhearing since you’re not making any effort to lower your voice. Eddie merely quirks a brow at them, and when they make eye contact with him, they turn back around. “So,” you go on, “I’d just need you to help me, show me how to smoke and stuff. Would that be okay?”

Eddie debates it for just a moment before relenting with a nod. He tells you to meet him after school at the picnic table behind the athletic fields and you agree right away, smiling up at him with an expression of such utter awe and glee that he has to stop himself from snorting in amusement. It’s funny, but it’s also kind of cute, too— Eddie doesn’t remember the last time someone was so excited at the idea of receiving his help, and your enthusiasm is endearing.

It’s simply endearing all the way up until he has you sitting facing him on the picnic bench, kicking your little feet idly while you straddle it, staring at him with that little ‘o’ face of concentration as he deftly grinds the bud. You plant your hands between your spread legs, leaning forward and watching with rapt fascination as he begins to pack the green into the paper. Your bare knees press against the inside of his, soft and warm through the rips in his jeans; his eyes flick to the hem of your skirt, the way it’s barely long enough to poke out from the pooling of sweater fabric at your lap, and he adds a bonus pinch or two to the joint. It’s fat when he finishes rolling, pinching it between two callused fingers as he tilts to the side and tugs his zippo from his pocket. The lighter draws your gaze like a fluttering moth, your attention snared by the flickering flame, and Eddie finds himself staring at you for a moment before he blinks his fascination away.

“Okay.” Eddie speaks once the paper catches, and your eyes dart from the smoldering tip to his face, expectant and waiting. You’re close enough that he can see where your mascara has flaked a little onto your lids, and from this distance, your helplessness— how dependent you are on him, how sweet and open and utterly trusting you look— elicits a pang low in his belly. He swallows. “So, you’re gonna wanna keep the smoke in your mouth first, and then inhale. Not too deep though, or else you’ll cough it all out and waste it. Here, I’ll show you.” 

Eddie watches you watch him as his lips wrap around the end of the joint and he pulls from it, fairly shallowly compared to what he’d usually do. He drops his hand so you can see, lets his cheeks puff out so you won’t miss the way he’s collecting the smoke. 

And that look on your face is so entranced, Eddie feels suddenly powerful. His chest expands on the inhale, and he smirks at you, closed-mouthed and crooked as your eyes widen at how long he holds it before he lets it billow from his nose like a dragon. That delights you, and the rest of the smoke escapes Eddie’s mouth on a raspy chuckle at how simple it is to please you.

“It’s that easy?” you ask as he waves the lingering smoke away, clearing the space between you.

“‘S that easy, sweetheart,” Eddie confirms. And he finds it curious when you bite your lip, dragging your teeth along the gloss there in such a way that it has him wondering how sticky it must feel. “You ready to give it a try?”

You nod, head bouncing like a dashboard bobblehead, but when Eddie maneuvers the joint in his fingers and holds out the end for you to take, you hesitate, fidgeting and pulling at your sweater sleeves so they cover your fingers. 

“You want me to hold it for you?” Eddie guesses, and you nod again, meeting his gaze with a sweet little grateful smile that has his belly panging again, stirring with the barest amount of low, liquid heat. He reaches out, letting his hand hover at the side of your face, hesitating as he looks to you. “Can I—?”

“Yeah,” you say, your voice small and wispy in a way that isn’t helping with those stirrings he’s feeling. And your cheek is so smooth when he cups it in his hand, using the light grip to guide your face up and hold you steady for him as he brings the joint to your pouty lips. They brush Eddie’s thumb when they part for him to place the joint between them, sticking your flesh to his as you hesitantly pull the smoke into your mouth. 

“That’s it,” he rasps, merely wanting to encourage you, but you just won’t stop staring at him like that as he feeds you the hit. Like, shit, can you really blame him when the stirring creeps lower, down from his belly into his groin? Your cheeks puff up with smoke, and he can almost feel what it’d be like to see the outline of his dickhead poking out of one— all soft and slick inside, plush skin stretched tight around his—

Your hands are flapping in the air between you like you’re trying not to grab onto him, and when Eddie notices the distressed pinch between your brows, he pulls the joint hastily from between your lips. You look like a fucking chipmunk, your cheeks are so full, and Eddie realizes that as he’d zoned out thinking about his cock in your mouth, you just kept sucking and sucking ‘til you literally couldn’t anymore. 

Quickly, Eddie clutches the joint in his teeth to free his hands, gently cupping your full cheeks; sympathetic, patronizing, he says through it, “You didn’t have to— s’too much, honey, just blow a little out, okay?” 

Smoke eeks out from your pursed lips in a steady stream until he pats your face with his fingertips. “Okay, that’s enough,” he says hurriedly, lest you release the entire hit. Obedient to a fault, you are, and damn him for where his mind wanders with that information. “Now, slowly—” he tips his chin, widening his eyes for emphasis, “slowly breathe it in. Take it nice and easy.”

You do as he says, and his shoulders nearly sag with relief when you do it successfully. “Okay, hold it for a few,” he coaxes, dropping his hands and absentmindedly plucking the joint from between his teeth, watching you closely for any signs of difficulty. When you remain placid, a proud grin spreads over his face, and as the seconds tick on, you grow mutually excited, your lips pressed tight and your eyes all lit up as you look back at him. Pretty, he thinks, and then again when you finally let the breath go and smile radiantly.

“I did it!” you exclaim, drumming your sleeved hands on your thighs excitedly as you giggle.

“You did,” Eddie replies, warm and fond at the sight of your happiness and the part he played in it. He takes another hit of his own— quicker but deeper than his first— and inclines his head once he’s released it, flashing his brows encouragingly at you. “You wanna try it again?”

“Definitely,” you say, tipping your face up and leaning in expectantly. Your scent washes over him, something fruity maybe, and Eddie has to try hard not to lean further forward and drag his tongue across your lips, to pry them open and see if the inside of your mouth tastes as sweet as you smell. 

For a good while, you and Eddie trade hits back and forth, one for you for every two of his until the whites of your eyes go pink and your body loosens, unraveling upon the picnic table. You end up in a deep lean against the tabletop, your head propped in your hand, your breast squished against the wooden edge in such a way that even in that fuzzy near-shapeless sweater, the sight tantalizes him. Eddie’s feeling as high as you look, mirroring your posture with his knees spread wide, engulfing your shorter thighs in a dark frame of denim. He’s high enough that he doesn’t have that typical discomfort pinching in his chest at the silence between you, doesn’t feel the need to fill it by talking about whatever shit pops into his head. He’s consumed instead with sensation— the breeze ruffling his frizzy curls, tickling him with broken strands along his hairline; the dull crunch of old, nearly-rotted leaves under his sneakers; the hollow thrum of his pulse in his ears and the flow of living blood through his veins, cycling with each slow, rhythmic throb of his heart. And as he looks across at you— sweet, soft, sensual you — Eddie finds that since the high has his nerves all alight, he wants to touch your skin again, see how it feels now under his sensitized fingers.

The weed-haze brings with it a certain fond, almost nostalgic influence. It’s one that breaks down barriers, creates closeness where there wasn’t any, or magnifies it where there was. Your bodies are certainly closer now, sagging inward toward one another as you laze in mutual drug-induced comfort. Eddie’s used to feeling that influence, but you’re not, so when he reaches out and runs his finger down the back of your hand, you let out a small gasp at the contact. Startled, he jerks his dipping chin upright, bloodshot eyes darting to your face. But he finds no upset there, only surprise and shy pleasure painted across your features. So he plucks your hand from your lap, tugging it gently over to him and letting it rest on his thigh so he can satisfy his fascination with the texture of your skin. Your fingers twitch a little as he laces them with his, slowly dragging his fingertips through the gaps and then down your palm to your wrist. When his thumb comes back up to trace the outside of yours, you nudge into his touch, relaxing into the sensation with a languid sigh.

“Does it feel nice? The high,” he clarifies when you blink at him, droopy-lidded and wearing your little ‘o’ face. He keeps tracing along the valley of your thumb, dipping down and then back up along your index finger, enjoying the tickle of your skin against his calluses.

“Mm-hmm.” You smile, your eyes dropping to your joined hands. “Feels really nice. Kinda floaty, like my head’s not as heavy anymore.”

Eddie crooks a smile, humming his agreement. Lax and pliant, you let him continue to play with your fingers, and he’s suddenly hit with a potent impulsive urge to bring your limp hand to his mouth and nibble your fingertips, lick the smooth polish of your painted nails, suck your pinkie into his mouth and tease your skin with his tongue to see what sound you’d make. He doesn’t do that. But he does let his fingers snake under the sleeve of your fuzzy sweater, let them creep along your forearm up to the crease of your inner elbow. He drags his thumb in slow circles there, crawling around and around until he finds what he’s looking for: a sign that you feel the same stirring in your belly that he feels, revealed by the slightest whisper of a moan his touch pulls from your lips.

Encouraged, Eddie’s hands travel then— tugging out of your sleeve to smooth up your arm and over the dip of your shoulder; palming your neck, dragging up to your ear to cup around the base of your skull; ghosting across your ribcage and down to your hip; then sneaking just beneath the pleats of your tiny skirt, flexing against the hidden skin there. All the while, that liquid heat sloshes around in his belly, spreading low between his hips, dripping down to tighten in his balls and fill out his stiffening cock.

He doesn’t know exactly how it happens, but eventually, you end up laid out on the rough wood bench, your legs dangling to either side of his head as he kneels before you, nosing at the tender skin of your inner thigh. Your sigh is a shuddery, eager thing when his teeth graze the lacy edge of your cotton panties, which to his delight are swallowed up a little by the plump of your pussy lips. “Can I take these off?” Eddie asks, forcedly casual and only slightly gritty as he tries to bite back his own rabid eagerness lest he scare you off with it. But you’re quick to say yes, so quick that it tells him you want this just as much as he does, and maybe even more, though he can scarcely believe that. 

The thought makes him cocky. He eases your panties down, deliberately slow to see if you’ll get impatient. Sure enough, you wiggle your hips, whining quietly to try to hurry him; the power your neediness gives him surges with his arousal as he feels just how damp the fabric is when he balls it in his fist. Hastily, he tucks your panties into his back pocket, his eyes locked on that sweet, swollen place between your legs. 

 "Aw, look’it her,” he croons, splaying his long fingers against your inner thighs to spread you more open for him. “Can't believe you been hiding her all this time under these little skirts you wear.” 

If you’re cute, your pussy is adorable— plump like a peach, wet and ripe and glistening as he presses into your slit with his thumbs and pulls your lips apart to see more of her. She yields easily for him, splitting with a sticky click to reveal your quivering hole and your fat clit already peeking coyly from its hood. “Oh, she's so pretty, baby,” Eddie praises, his mouth watering and his cock jerking in his tight jeans, stiffening further against his zipper. “And she’s so wet already. Bet I can make 'er spit for me." 

You coo, and he lifts his head to see you biting your lip through an eager grin. "Yeah? You excited for me to touch you?" Eddie chuckles, equally fond and condescending. "Aren’t you just a sweet little thing."

“R’you gonna eat my pussy, Eddie?” you ask, and the question is so dirty but your voice sounds so goddamn innocent that he can’t help but chuckle again, this time in disbelief. 

“Yeah, baby,” he rasps, palming himself quickly over his jeans to try to bring relief because his dick is suddenly so fucking hard it aches. “I’m gonna eat your pussy.”

[amidnightjen]

“What the hell is this?!”

The words startle Steve awake more effectively than his alarm ever managed and he flails a bit, almost falling off the couch until he recognises Dustin looming over him, hands on hips looking extremely unimpressed.

(Later Steve will have time to be fondly amused that the gesture came from him.)

“Henderson?” he asks, blinking up at the kid with bleary eyes. “Jesus, what time is it?”

“6:30,” Dustin informs him.

“In the morning?” he croaks.

“Yes, in the morning!” Dustin snaps. “What the hell is this Steve?”

Steve is still mostly asleep, he knows he looks like a mess and he also knows that he and Dustin did not have any sort of plans that would give him reason to be waking Steve up at six-fucking-thirty in the morning. So he says, “Sleep, Henderson. It’s sleep.”

Dustin does not look amused by this. “Do you always fall asleep on the couch with Eddie?”

Steve blinks up at Dustin, confused. “What? Eddie?”

Dustin gestures behind Steve and Steve, against his better judgement, turns his head to find that Eddie is in fact on the couch behind him. Turning put him face-to-face with the other man and Steve just sort of blinks in befuddlement before wondering aloud, “Jesus Christ how is he still asleep?” Because he genuinely has no idea how anyone could be sleeping through Dustin’s sheer volume.

“That’s all you have to say?” Dustin demands.

“It’s early,” Steve complains.

“You’re sleeping with Eddie!”

“Well i was,” Steve groaned, “right up until you started shouting. Why are you even here?”

“Sleeping. With. Eddie,” Dustin repeats in case it was lost on Steve the first time.

“It’s six thirty in the morning!” Steve points out. Again. What else was he supposed to be doing at that time of day?

“Sleeping with Eddie!” Dustin repeats like a bad record, needle skipping back and forth.

Steve is too tired for this. “Make sense or go away and come back in two hours.”

“Steve,” and Dustin sounds very serious now, “are you having sex with Eddie?”

“…no?” He squints at Dustin, a little concerned about the kid’s knowledge of sex if he’s asking that when Steve is lying fully clothed and half asleep next to an equally fully clothed and still asleep Eddie.

Dustin does not find this funny. “Then what the hell is this? Why are you cuddling on the couch?”

Relieved, Steve says, “Oh, you didn’t mean that literally.” Then he shrugs. “We must have fallen asleep down here.”

“You fell asleep cuddling on the couch?” Dustin’s voice is very dry.

“…i guess?” Steve doesn’t actually know how the cuddling came about - would he call it cuddling? - but he gets the feeling he should be more worried about what Dustin is insinuating than he is. Mostly because, “Seriously, why the hell are you here so early?”

“Apparently, to catch you and Eddie snuggling on the couch,” Dustin snipes. “Is this going to be a thing?”

Steve looks long and hard at Eddie, doesn’t let himself sink too deeply into the thoughts or the fears, just looks at him and then he says to Dustin, “Yeah, probably.”

Dustin’s outrage is not faked this time and it is loud enough to finally wake Eddie.

[fantasticallyfruity4]

Someone sees Steve in a corroded coffin tee and hits him with the “name 5 songs, poser” and Steve just starts laughing his ass off bc he doesn’t know the name of like more than 2. Granted, he is literally married to the guitarist. So he just keeps laughing in this dudes face and this dude is getting more and more pissed at whatever bar or restaurant this happens in and five minutes later Eddie finally leaves the bathroom and he’s like “baby love what’s so funny?”

And jackass is fucking starstruck and confused bc Eddie’s looking at this poser with the most amused loving eyes on the face of the earth.

“You fucking jackass, I’m MARRIED to EDDIE FUCKING MUNSON I don’t need to know a single god damn song my closet is FULL of these. Shit, I have corroded coffin shirts that he HAND DREW the band name on in 19-fucking-86 at my fucking parents kitchen table. I have been on nearly every tour in the last 20 years since they STARTED touring in ‘87 and I am the ONLY groupie eddie munson has ever fucked get real”

And Eddie is very amused but also like “babe that’s enough, settle down before this goes on YouTube”

[doomsdaybby]

OMGOMGOMG I saw a video of a girl talking about the blood vial d20 her boyfriend gifted her, and now I can't get eddie and reader out of my head!! Imagine giving eddie a set of dice for him to find out it's filled with your blood😵‍💫😵‍💫 help me I'm spiralling.

HELP WHERE IS THAT VIDEO?! also sorry if this took a hot second i've been busy in my irl job 🤢 and this initially ended up being a little longer than I had planned so I had to cut and edit lmao. but anyways, enjoy!!

eddie munson x fem!reader. (small cw for sexual suggestion, a teeny weeny bit hot n' heavy at the end, but this is mainly just some cute silly fluff!)

"Why do I need to close my eyes, babe?" Eddie's giggling something pretty, and you're right there with him, a pitched girly lilt that has Eddie's already beaming smile spreading impossibly wider across his pink cheeks.

You're sitting crossed legged propped up by the pillows on Eddie's bed, the worn mattress actually covered with a freshly washed sheet which was a rare occasion. Though, to be fair to him, it was your one year anniversary.

Eddie hadn't shut up about it the whole month prior. Grinning from ear to ear and tucking you close to his side whenever he mentioned it. The Hellfire boys had depleted into eye-rolls and groaned 'oh yeah's and 'how could we forget's. Not to be malicious, they were very pleased for the both of you, though the consistency with no room for anything else in conversation did, eventually, get just slightly irritating.

Though neither of you cared, you were completely and utterly smitten with one another.

He had also meticulously marked it down to the day on his shabby swimsuit model calendar circa 1985, the one that displayed pride of place amongst arrays of polaroids that captured the two of you in eternal besotted stills.

His smile lines captivate his beautiful face, the mattress dipping as you sit beside him. His knees knock with yours as you shuffle across the bed, mirroring his position directly across from him.

"Just.. sit still," the breath of your laugh sweeps over his face, closer than he had initially thought you were. He scrunches his brows in question, guarding himself with his shoulder in a small startle when you lean forward to bestow just one gentle kiss on his exposed skin, right below the curve of his jaw.

You smile against the column of his throat, cheap cologne and long-since smoked cigarettes lingering on his Iron Maiden t-shirt. You could bask in him all day. Eyes still closed, just as you'd asked, you take Eddie's hand with a gentle squeeze. You turn his palm over lovingly in yours, placing the gift in the centre. "Okay, pretty boy," the way you say it has Eddie's heart skipping a beat, coaxing him back to the curve of your lips like a sailor to a siren call. "Open".

Cushioned in his hand sat a custom made D20 dice; a deep ruby red swirls inside in a lava-lamp fashion, the numbers a stunning glittered gold. And to top it off, your initials engraved just above the number 20.

"Babe, I fucking love it!" Eddie's eyes fucking glitter when they open, as rich as hot cocoa, and he's grabbing your face and kissing your nose, lips, forehead and each cheek for good measure. Your eyes are glinting along with him, shimmering with a enamoured warmth and your chest feels full to the brim with swarming butterflies.

"The resin looks so cool" he's rolling the dice in his fingers, swooning and admiring the way the liquid inside shifts in large globules. A kid in a candy store. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but the way to your man's heart is through DnD.

"What kind of resin is this? It's really dark" Eddie's holding the dice up to the light, and his confusion makes you melt, in a funny sort of way. The scrunch of his nose, the knitting of his brows, the pout of his bottom lip the cherry on top amongst the curiosity.

"It's not resin, Eds..." you're shy then. Overcome with a gnawing shred of unease, just a taste.

"What the hell is it then?" he's eyeing you strangely, smirk still pride of place, eyes creasing at the corners when they narrow in your direction. "Is it cursed?" he shoves it away from him to hold it at arms length, a mess of feigned theatrics, and you're suddenly laughing again, the same sugary sweet giggle that makes his teeth hurt.

"It's my blood" you're still laughing with him, the lack of sincerity to your tone has Eddie believing you're joking, especially by the way he's now cracking up more than you.

"Okay, but really, what is it?". "My blood," you reiterate, more deadpan and as serious as you can be in the moment. He's rotating it around in his fingers again with much more intent, with what you can only described as almost childlike wonder.

His eyes inspect each side, right from number 1 through 20, delicately swinging his thumb over where your initials are engraved. "You serious?" he asks quieter, head a little dizzy and a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, somewhat shocked disbelief coating his words.

He's quiet when you nod, your heart beginning to beat a little faster. He hates it. He hates you. You've scared him off. This is too much for him. Wait, too much for EDDIE? I'm gonna be sick.

It's when he shifts uncomfortably on the mattress that those fleeting thoughts silence for a moment, and you watch with a hard undisguised stare as he adjusts the front of his sweatpants to lay his forearm there.

"Do you have a boner right now?" you scoff at him after a couple of quiet moments, not to be mean, your tongue feels too big for your mouth and your heart is pumping too loud in your ears with adrenaline. He doesn't answer the question, you already know that he does. Then, without another word, Eddie is swallowing your face in his palms, caging you in as his lips meld to yours. It's fervent, carnal, the way he kisses you. Then comes a delicate brush of fingertips along the column of your throat, pushing away the strands of hair there, and you're hooking your nails into the frizzy curls at the back of his head.

It's quick, crude, and leaves you a little breathless. All tongues and teeth, Eddie's way of saying 'thank you' and 'I love you' without the words coming to any fruition.

He draws back first with a pant, savouring the way your lips chase his. Your head is dizzy, drunk off of him. And you wouldn't dare to waste a moment more once his next words exit.

"Take your clothes off, right now".

[catherinnn]

Can you please do a fic where Eddie and reader get into a fight over stupid jealousy, and Eddie brings up the fact that the reader had a history of sleeping around before they started dating and uses that against her. She gets speechless and leave and Eddie realizes how bad he messed up, tries to chase after her but she's already gone. He spends days trying to get her to talk to him and she just keeps avoiding him several times. Robin and Steve seeing how distant both Eddie and Y/N have been, decide to work together with Eddie to help him get Y/N back.

(this is inspired by how you get the girl)

That's How It Works

eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: so so so much fluff, fighting, slut shaming, hurt-comfort.

words: 1.3 k masterlist

a/n: thank you so much for requesting <33 I'm catching up with the other requests too, i promise :)

“You were all giggly with him” he interrupts.

“Eddie, we were just talking-“ You try to explain but he wasn’t listening.

“I laughed cause he made a joke!” You could laugh right now from what he’s accusing you of.

If someone told you you’d be coming back to the trailer after Eddie’s performance in The Hideout going at it fighting instead of all over each other, you would have been surprised.

But this is where you are right now. He’s jealous that you ran into an old friend while he played. However, he’s not only accusing you of flirting with him, but also of not even paying attention to his show.

“You cannot tell me that douchebag made an actual funny joke” he contradicts.

“What is this big problem you have with him? You don’t even know him” you complain.

“How do you know him?” he asks in a tone of accusation, you answer either way.

“He was an old friend from high school”

“Just a friend?” he asks again looking pissed, like that wasn’t the answer he was looking for.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs clenching his jaw. You wait for him to explain himself.

“Giving your history before you met me, forgive me if I have some trust issues” he reproaches angrily.

You laugh bitterly. “Did you seriously just said that?”

“N- no, wait-“ he sighs and then tries to make it better but it’s a little too late now.

“I’m out of here” you say grabbing your jacket again and opening the door.

“Wait, sweetheart-“

“For your fucking information, he was just a friend. Hopefully, that helps you sleep better tonight” you say sarcastically and storm off.

Eddie stays pondering on what you said realizes he went too far. He goes after you but as he gets outside he sees your car already driving away.

He waits a few minutes until what he thinks will take you to get home and starts calling, no one answers.

He keeps trying for a couple more days but you either hang up as soon as you hear his voice, or not answer his calls all together. 

“Boy, I need to use the phone” Wayne says after Eddie’s been calling three times in a row.

“Fine, just let me leave a message” Eddie says and Wayne stays there waiting.

“Do you mind? It’s kinda personal” he says. Wayne rolls his eyes giving him his space, mumbling “What the hell did he do now?”, but he can already imagine.

“Hey, Munson” Steve greets him once he sees him entering Family Show.

“Hey, can you call [y/n]?” Eddie asks.

“Uhh sure, but why can’t you call her?” Steve asks confused.

“I kind of… fucked up and she won’t answer my calls” Eddie admits embarrassed.

“Oh no, what did you do?” Steve sighs.

“Do you really need to know?”

“Yes, and actually wait here” Steve asks before going to the back room only to return with Robin.

“You fucker” it’s the first thing she says as she sees him.

“You know already?” Eddie complains.

“Of course I know, she called me right away” she explains. “You have some fucking nerve”

“I know, I know. I was so stupid and mean and I didn’t even listen to her-“ Eddie regrets himself.

“What happened?” Steve interrupts and Robin explains as Eddie covers his face in embarrassment wanting to die right here and now.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Steve complains after Robin fills him in.

“I know, I fucking hate myself right now” Eddie says. “But I’ve been calling her ever since that same night to explain how sorry I am and she doesn’t want to listen”

Robin wants to make a comment saying ‘you had it coming’ or something like that but as she sees him almost crying as he says all that, she decides against it. Plus, she knows you listen to every voice mail he leaves you almost cuffing yourself so you don’t call him back.

So she decides to help him.

They give him tips on how to get you back; like going to your house instead of calling you —Steve said to do it tonight because it was supposed to rain and it would be more dramatic;— they told him to say cheesy lines like ‘I broke your heart and I’ll put I back together’. He was wary about all of this but Robin ended the list with a proud smirk saying:

“And that’s how it works, that’s how you get the girl”

So he decided to trust her. He bought the flowers, and waited until it started to rain.

You stayed watching a movie tonight. Normally the rain helps you sleep like a baby, but lately it was harder and harder for you to finally get some sleep. Ever since the fight.

You were wondering if it was time to pick up one of his calls and talk, but you wished he would do something more. Something that showed how sorry he actually was.

You were watching some cheesy rom-com where they are always more dramatic and romantic. Right in the middle of his love confession you hear a knock on your door. It was late already and raining like crazy so it must have been a branch or something.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was soaking wet on the other side praying to Ozzy Osborne that you open the door and not one of your parents. He keeps knocking, cursing Harrington under his breath for this idea, until you finally open the door.

“Are you insane?!” you ask him once you see him. His curls no longer defined because of the water soaking them. The flowers he held in his hand were still looking pretty, only damped. His hellfire shirt almost see through from how wet it was, showing the tattoos underneath.

“I’m sorry” he tries to start but he’s shaking. You let him in, but before you can go grab a tower he stops you.

“Eddie, you’re shaking!” you complain.

“Just listen, please” he asks. “Here, these are for you” he hands you the flowers and you take them.

You stand there astound at his confession. Not only that but the way he did it and the words that he said.

“It’s been a long week, and I missed you like crazy” he starts and you let him explain. “I’m so so sorry for what I said, I- I lost my mind." he takes a deep breath.

"I want you, I don’t even fucking care about your history before, and I’ll make it up to you until the day that I die." he promises

"I understand that you’re angry at me but I’ll wait for you. Forever and ever” he finishes.

He always made fun of you for loving those silly rom-coms and romance books where they’re extra-cheesy. He didn’t like it, they made him cringe. But he understood now. The romantic gestures and love confessions.

After a few seconds you smile, almost mocking him. “How cliché of you, Munson”

He looks at you, not knowing if this means you’re cool now. But you don’t let him overthink it for a long time. You run to his arms, rolling your eyes smiling because he knew just how to make it better.

He engulfed you in his arms, squeezing you. “I’m so sorry sweetheart, I was an asshole”

“You were, yeah.” you agree. “Can you start trusting me more from now on?”

“Yes, I promise” he says nodding repeatedly.

“I didn’t know you could be so sappy” you joke and he rolls his eyes playfully.

“Don’t tell anyone”

“Oh but I will, Gareth and Jeff are gonna die with this information” you laugh imagining all the jokes they will make.

“Oh come onnnn” he complains.

“But I love it though, so don’t feel ashamed” I confess sweetly.

“Only for you, you little tease”

“Alright, let’s go watch Nothing Hill now. Julia Robert’s speech has nothing on yours!” I mock him.

And that’s how it goes. That’s how you get the girl.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

🧠🪱Wiggly Wednesday🧠🪱

Happy hump day, let's unleash those brainworms!

Recent high school graduate Steve, freshly disowned, moving into his first very own apartment. The place is dark and smells funny, the wallpaper is peeling off in places, and the property management firm has a shitty reputation, but beggars can’t be choosers. Anything’s preferable to sticking his feet under his dad’s stupid mahogany table and listening to his bigoted bullshit for another day, right? 

After a long and tiresome moving day involving a broken elevator and lugging all of his boxes up three flights of stairs, Steve has just hit the shower to wash off the sweat when a pipe bursts, cutting off his hot water supply and flooding his ugly, puke-colored floor tiles. Cursing, naked and soapy-haired, Steve slips his way over to the telephone to call the landlord's office. A bored-sounding lady tells him that they’ll send someone over, then hangs up without waiting for a reply. 

Steve has barely even slipped a pair of boxers over his wet ass when the doorbell rings. He opens, only find himself face to face with a long-haired, tattooed guy about his own age. He's clad in a tank top and overalls, carrying a toolbox in one hand and holding a burning cigarette in the other. 

“Hi,” says the guy, dark eyes raking up and down Steve's bare chest. ‘I'm here about the leaky pipe?” 

“Oh,” Steve says, surprised, because damn, that's a swift response time. “Sure, come on in.” 

The guy does, shuffling into the apartment and on to the bathroom without waiting for directions. Steve is left loitering uncertainly in his own hallway. He doesn't need to loiter long, fortunately, because not five minutes later, the guy shuffles back out, drying his hands on one of Steve’s towels, cigarette now dangling from the corner of his mouth. 

“There you go,” he grins, tossing the towel at Steve. “Enjoy your shower.” 

“Thanks,” says Steve, patting his back pocket for his wallet until he remembers that, one, he's not wearing pants, and two, he spent the last of his cash on a vending machine drink earlier because he was fucking parched from carrying all those boxes. “Erm, I'd tip you, but-” 

“Nah, leave it,” says the guy, and wiggles his eyebrows. “The view is more than enough for compensation.” 

Several hours later, Steve is just on his way to bed, the door rings again. It's a grumpy older dude who says he's come to fix the shower. 

“No, it's okay,” Steve says. “Your colleague was here earlier and took care of it.” 

The man laughs. “Colleague? Ha, I wish. There's just me, why d’you think it took me so long?” 

He trudges off, grumbling something under his breath about wasted time, leaving behind a dumbstruck Steve. 

If that was the repair guy … who fixed his shower?

(His name is Eddie. He's a mechanic and lives in the apartment under Steve’s. He's well familiar with the leaky pipes, and when he saw the water running down from his own bathroom ceiling, he immediately knew what the problem was. He also now knows what Steve looks like half naked. They're off to a great start.) 

Tagging some friends to share their own:

@postmodernau @steddie-island @sparkle-fiend @sidekick-hero @slippy-slip

@xgumiho @stevesbipanic @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @pearynice @thefreakandthehair

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

I'm clearing out my draft folder again.

Steve and Robin were running through Starcourt, high as fuck when Steve skidded to a stop in front of Eddie Munson.

"You look like Eddie Munson," Steve giggled.

"Steve!" Robin said with wide eyes. "I think that is - "

"Man, what happened to your face?" Eddie asked.

"Funny story, can you keep a secret from Eddie?" Steve said seriously.

"Sure," Eddie grinned.

"No, Steve, that's - ,"

"ANYWAY," Steve rolled his eyes at Robin. "I had this crush on him in freshman year. Do you think I should tell him?"

"Uh - are you guys on drugs?" Eddie asked.

"YES! But we didn't want to," Robin said. "They wanted information."

"Aw, fuck, there's this guy that works with Rick. Real sketchy. I told him he needs to let him go before he gets Rick into trouble, but does Rick listen to me? Nah!" Eddie exclaimed. "Look, whatever the hell he gave you should wear off. Not all drug dealers are like that. What we pitch to you is what you get. What you want is what you get. Okay, let's get you guys to the bathroom and try to get it out of your system. Come on."

"I'm going to tell Eddie," Steve said with a grin. "Shh! Wait here. I'll tell you how it goes."

Steve ran off with Robin on his tail. Eddie cursed and chased after them. They got distracted by the lights hanging overhead and started spinning around, gazing at them in awe.

"You guys do not want to do that," Eddie said, and they started heaving before they ran off in the direction of the bathrooms. "And that's why."

He ran off after them and into the bathroom room, where they vomited into the toilets. Eddie knelt down next to him and stroked Steve’s hair as he emptied the contents of his stomach. Once Steve was done, he leaned his head into Eddie's touch and closed his eyes, letting Eddie stroke his hair. He whined when Eddie moved away and saw him go to the sink. He came back with a wet, soapy paper towel and started cleaning Steve’s face.

"I guess I'm chopped liver," Robin said. "It's okay, I'll get it myself."

Steve laughed and made a face at the taste in his mouth. Eddie clapped a hand on his back.

"I'll be right back," Eddie said.

He rushed off to buy a couple of toothbrushes and toothpaste. He also picked up what he thought was lip balm. When he returned, he he heard them talking. They were clearly bonding, solidifying their working relationship into a friendship. Or maybe something more considering how Robin was talking about watching Steve. Shit, maybe Eddie should leave. They were talking about someone else now.

"But Tammy Thompson's a girl," Steve said.

"Yeah," Robin said.

"Oh."

Or maybe not. Oh God, Robin was coming out to Steve, and Eddie was overhearing it. Oh God, what should he do? He was frozen to the spot. Steve was going on about how Tammy Thompson was a total dud and how she sounded like a Muppet. Eddie snorted. Yeah, that was true.

"I can't believe you're making fun of my crush," Robin laughed. "What about yours?"

"Hey, at least Eddie can sing," Steve replied.

Fuck! Okay, so he had been telling the truth then.

"How do you know he can sing?" Robin asked.

"My car broke down near the Hideout one night, and I heard him singing. He was playing with his band, Corroded Coffin," Steve said. "They were really good. I was going to go talk to him, but I kind of thought that the drummer was his girlfriend, but that's crazy. I mean, guys and girls can just be friends, right?"

"I like to think so," Robin replied.

There was a long pause in their conversation, which gave Eddie plenty of opportunity to burst through the door.

"Okay, so I have a green toothbrush and a pink one," Eddie said. "Which one do you guys want?"

"Ooh, pink," Steve said and they stared at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Eddie said in amusement.

He watched as they brushed their teeth. Well, he mostly watched Steve.

"So, how much of our conversation did you hear?" Steve asked, setting his toothbrush on the sink.

"What? I didn't hear anything. Were you guys talking about something?" He asked.

"Seriously?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't hear anything that you guys didn't want me to hear," Eddie said.

"I don't think you're the kind of guy who would spill the beans on us," Robin said. "At least, I hope not so you don't have to deny anything."

"Ooh, lip gloss," Steve plucked it out of Eddie's hand. "May I?"

"Yeah, I thought it was lip balm," Eddie frowned. "So, have you always known that you liked guys?"

"Not just guys, girls too," Steve said as he started applying the lip gloss to his pouty lips. "I'm bisexual."

"Did you always know you were bisexual?" Eddie asked as he watched Steve’s lips intently.

"Well, yes and no," Steve said. "It was more like a slow build-up to my realization. Like more and more evidence started piling up that I could no longer deny."

"So, it wasn't like you looked at someone one day and realized 'shit, I'm into dudes, now?" Eddie asked as his eyes raked over the swell of his ass.

"It's always kind of been there. Why?" Steve asked as he closed the lip gloss.

"No reason," Eddie blushed, looking at his shoes.

"Oh my god!" Robin exclaimed. "You woke him up."

"What?" Steve asked.

"You woke him up!" Robin exclaimed, and Eddie quickly hid behind his hair.

"It's the outfit!" Eddie shrieked.

"So, what is it about the outfit that does it for you?" Steve asked.

"It's everything! The socks! The shorts that fill out your ass fantastically, by the way! And the shirt with the red bow tie in front," Eddie said. "It's just the whole fucking outfit."

"You should see me in the hat," Steve said in amusement.

Suddenly, Dustin and Erica burst into the bathroom before Steve could say anything else.

"There you are!" Dustin shrieked.

"Hey, could you give us a minute?" Steve asked Robin.

Robin quickly started ushering the kids out of the bathroom.

"But, Steve?!" Dustin asked.

"Out!" Robin yelled and shut the door behind them.

"I like you and as badly as I want to kiss you right now. . . I don't want it to be after I vomited in a bathroom. Plus, you still need to figure things out. If you still want me a few days from now. Call me. I have to deal with these kids I babysit. So go home and think things over," Steve said softly.

There was something that Steve wasn't telling him, but Eddie knew that he was also right. Besides, it was late. Steve placed his hands on Eddie's shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheek, close to the corner of his mouth. It felt much like Steve was promising him something. Steve pulled away and started moving toward the door.

"Hey, Steve?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah?"

"I'm definitely going to call you," Eddie said.

Steve laughed and walked out of the bathroom, leaving them both with hope for the future.

[theemporium]

🥺👉👈

Best friend Eddie has had a *thing* for reader since middle school. But is worried to go for it (reader is sweet, smart, and funny. Probably would be popular if she didn't spend so much time with the "freaks".) So he'll take any little bit of affection he can get from her.

(I think we've all seen from the show and the interviews that JQ's love language is touch.)

Maybe Eddie starts hugging her and holding her a lot until one day at lunch he puts his hand on her knee and she moves it onto her thigh under her skirt (?).

You can take it from there 😂 that's the extent of my genius.

thank you for requesting!🖤

part two

.

Eddie Munson had always been an affectionate and touchy guy. 

You had been friends with him for many years and it was an undeniable fact the boy loved to show his affection through physical touch. Whether it was an arm thrown over the shoulders of the younger boys in the club as they make their way to the classroom to start the latest campaign, or whether it was knocking shoulders and excitedly hugging his bandmates when they make a breakthrough on a song they had been working on. 

Eddie was an affectionate guy and that treatment was extended to you too. 

It also just happened that he had a massive fucking crush on you and felt like his heart was going to burst through his chest every time he touched you.

It had been a normal Thursday. Classes had been long and torturous, but Eddie was practically bouncing in his seat to head towards the cafeteria for lunch. When he walked into the room, he saw you sitting in your usual seat—the one right next to him at the head of the table.

It was difficult to wipe the grin off his face as he made his way towards the table, slumping down into his seat and not even wasting a moment before he was gripping the back of your chair, dragging you close enough until your thighs were pressed together. He did this every day but something about you liked the way your heart skipped when he pulled you closer. 

It baffled Eddie why you always sat with them. You weren’t in Hellfire, not really. You never played but you enjoyed listening to them rant and ramble about it. You had other friends you could have sat with, ones that wouldn’t have made you seem as though you were a ‘freak’ along with the rest of them. But despite Eddie’s insistence that he wouldn’t be offended if you sat somewhere else, you still chose the seat right next to him—to make your own point. 

You were very happy and content where you were, settled under Eddie’s arm with your head resting against his shoulder as he continued to discuss the latest campaign with the other boys. You smiled softly, watching how excited and animated they got and the way Eddie’s face glistened in pride at how much they loved his campaign. 

But then your thoughts started to wander and you felt something warm just above your knee, your eyes darting down to see Eddie subconsciously place his hand on your thigh and gently stroke the skin exposed by your skirt. 

You pressed your lips together, not saying anything. You didn’t want him to move his hand, maybe because you weren’t sure Eddie saw you as anything but a best friend. And with this—with this, you could pretend it was something more. 

Then his hand moved up a little, the movement almost a little hesitant like he was waiting for you to push it back down. 

But you didn’t. 

You waited for him to shift higher but it stayed firmly where it was, a couple of inches below the hem of your skirt. Your eyes darted up, seeing the boys still screaming and yelling at each other across the table and lost in their own conversation. You stole a quick glance at Eddie, finding his eyes firmly stuck on the boys but the hint of a smirk on his lips gave you another idea. 

Your fingers slowly wrapped around his wrist, giving it a soft squeeze before you began to guide his hand higher up your thigh. It inched closer and closer until—

Eddie cleared his throat when you pushed his hand under your skirt, your thighs clenching together to trap his hand there. He pressed his lips together, forcing himself to keep his face neutral as though blood wasn’t roaring in his ears and going straight down to his cock. 

Your legs parted a little, just enough for him to move his fingers once again. You kept your gaze anywhere but your lap, the heat rushing to your cheeks warning enough that you would instantly blow your cover if you saw the sight of his hand between your legs. 

Eddie’s fingers slowly crawled further up your leg, his fingertips teasing your clothed cunt. You let out a small gasp, quickly covering it up with a cough as you felt his fingers press more firmly against your panties.

You nuzzled yourself against his side, the action not uncommon and, therefore, ignored by the rest of the group. Your face was practically pressed against the fabric of his jacket, muffling the small sounds that left your lips as his fingers grazed up and down your cunt—the touch too light but enough to make you squirm.

Nobody even questioned it when Eddie ducked his head down, his lips pressed against your ear and his warm breath fanned across your skin. 

“You’re so wet, baby,” he muttered, his voice low enough that only you could hear him. “And I’ve barely even touched you.” 

“Eddie,” you breathed out. 

“I didn’t know you liked this kinda stuff, sweetheart,” he murmured, his fingers pushing against your clothed clit as you fought the urge to squirm. “Letting me do this to you when anybody could see.” 

“Shit,” you hissed, the fabric of your panties soaked. 

“Who knew my best friend was such a slut,” he cooed softly. 

“Eds,” you whined slightly, your cheeks flushing when you felt his thumb press slow circles on your clit. 

“Or maybe you’re just a slut f’me,” he teased, grinning a little when you nodded your head. “A shame, baby.” 

Before you could even process his words or the way your stomach twisted in delight at his words, he was pulling his hand away and resting his hands on the table like nothing happened. 

You gaped at him, your panties now soaked and your body desperate to feel his touch again but the boy just shot you a look. 

“Later,” he said, eyes darkening a little when he noticed the way your thighs clenched together. “Keep ‘em on all day and you’ll get a reward later, in my van.” 

You bit your bottom lip. 

His lips grew into a smirk. “Gonna make sure that pretty little skirt of yours is fucking ruined, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

And then he returned to the conversation about his campaign like nothing was wrong.

.

[stevieschrodinger]

I do not have time to write this, but I really need to write it down.

All the events of Stranger things happen as normal - one crucial difference, Eddie gets involved, but not in the same way. He's an innocent by stander who never made friends with the kids. He's a vague background character to the action. He's an extra on set, effectively, and when he drops out of school and leaves town abruptly, someone might notice, but no one really questions it.

Years later, the only thing that feels real about the whole thing are the scars Steve still carries on his body. Sometimes, sometimes, he has to call Robin, just to check it was all real. That he hasn't lost his mind. He still flinches when a light flickers, to this day his ears ring for hours after a loud noise. He has headaches.

The only people he can talk to about it are Robin and the kids; but he feels bad. The kids aren't kids anymore, and they all seem to have just...gotten on with their lives. Seemed to have grown and evolved past it all, even though Steve regularly still wakes in the night, sweating and fighting with his bed covers. He doesn't put that on them, he sounds happy on the phone, and he is, loves hearing about their lives, their relationships, their plans and their own kids.

Robin has a girlfriend, she's happy and settled. Steve's the only one who seems...stuck. Like he cant move past it. He bums around. Stays with Nancy for a while, then Robin. Visits Argyle, makes loose acquaintances and sofa surfs. Drifts, aimlessly, through life.

It's about time in his cycle to visit Robin, but the relationship is serious this time and she nags him to find his own place to stay near by - loosing patience with him when he fails to be motivated and finding it for him herself. It's tiny, the kind of place where the bed is also the couch and the TV rests on a short run of kitchen counter because there's no where else. Feels okay though.

Steve gets a job. Spends a day on foot, door to door, walking through town; lands in a record shop of all places, even though CD's have now well and truly taken hold and vinyl isn't much of a thing. It's dark inside, the walls painted black, the bare brick red. A couple of people browse through, but Steve heads right for the counter.

There's some screamo rock stuff playing that Steve doesn't recognize, but it's quiet, so it's okay.

Behind the counter, someone Steve half recognizes from another life. Eddie Munson, Freak of Hawkins High. What are the odds.

Eddie isn't who Steve remembers. He's angry now. Bitter. Has a horrible scar that creeps up his neck and onto his face, pulling the corner of his lip down. Steve does his best to ignore it. Begs for work.

Eddie employs him, but only because he thinks it's fucking funny how far the king has fallen. Now the king works for the jester.

Steve does his best at the shop. Cleans a lot. Gets on well with the customers, charms plenty of sales.

Eddie walks with a cane and seems to hate everyone and everything; but nothing so much as a cold morning. Seems to be in more pain than usual.

Steve wants to ask, Eddie tells him it was an animal attack. In 86.

Steve's seen some of the scars by now, caught glimpses of how bad Eddie was hurt; helped Eddie even when Eddie was spitting angry about accepting any help.

What the fuck kind of animal could do that much damage in Hawkins?

You wouldn't believe me if I told you.

And Steve puts it together then, instantly and viscerally realizes in his bones what must have happened. No one ever believed Eddie. Why would they? How could anyone think that monsters coming out of the walls, out of the floors, out of glowing red portals could be the truth?

And Steve says, did it's face peel apart like a flower?

And then he tells Eddie. He tells Eddie everything. He shows Eddie his own scars. Tells him about every monster they ever come across. It was one of the demo dogs. Like Dart. Steve knew it must have been, but Eddie confirms with a description.

And then Eddie cries, because he finally has a explanation. He's not crazy. For the first time in his life, someone believes him.

[jaebeomsbitch]

Not So Dirty Talk (E.M)

Summary: trying to tell your boyfriend a story in the middle of intimate times?

Gif credit: @foggystreetlights

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, PinV, cream pie, explicit words and actions, unprotected

A/N: had this in the drafts for a while, thought I’d come back with something after not writing for a while. Also thanks for the 300 new followers in the short time I’ve been MIA!

I’m definitely reusing this gif

We’ve always always talked about Eddie babbling during sex, spewing out dirty shit out of his mouth that I’d make a nun blush but what about the times when he slips in slow and steady. Elbows on either side of your head and you accidentally let out a little giggle. His eyes snapping up towards yours.

“What’s so funny princess?” He asks with a dimpled grin. Hips moving ever so slightly inside you letting you adjust, his knees digging into the sheets, thighs pressed into your ass, knees wrapped around his neck.

“Something stupid” you say with a little twinkle in your eyes.

“Yeah? Couldn’t wait baby?” He smiles, moving his hips slow and methodically.

And then you’re just having a full conversation in the middle of sex. His bangs pressed into his forehead with a thin veil of sweat.

“Uh-huh okay then?” He asks breathlessly. His stomach flexing trying to keep himself together but your pussy’s just so warm and enveloping.

You try to keep your thoughts straight, trying to hold onto the thin thread chasing it desperately as you start to stutter “a-an- and t-the fuh-“ your eyes rolling back, fingernails digging into the backs of your thighs.

“Uh-huh and?” He says eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Mmm I- uhh ohh” you gasp out trying to speak desperately but you just can’t.

“Aww, cat got your tongue princess?” He smiles sardonically. His pride swelling seeing you so fucking cock dumb under him. Reduced to a drooling babbling mess.

“Oh- fuck please don’t stop” you moan.

“What’re you gonna do if I do?” He says with that irritating smirk on his face.

“Please- Eddie please don’t” you heave for air, stomach constricting with your impending orgasm.

“Can’t do to stop me sweets, I could stop right now. Leave you crying” he says nipping at your collarbone

“Please Eddie” you beg desperately even though he hasn’t stopped and he has no plans to stop. Your nails leave deep crescent moons in the back of your thighs, your thighs tightening around his neck.

“M’not” he grunts seeing the tears springing in your eyes. His hips slapping against your ass rhythmically.

“Not until you fucking cum all over my cock princess” he continues sounding more and more breathless. The fire at the base of his spine growing and catching like kindling in a chimney.

Your moans start getting more and more high pitched.

“Close m’close,” you nod. Your eyes rolling back, lips falling open, Eddie’s fingers digging into your shoulders as he cradles you close.

Grinding his hips against yours, he groans softly, his grip on your hips tightening. "God, you feel so good," he murmurs, nuzzling against your neck. "So fucking hot."

Your slip your fingers in the small gap between you two circling your clit. You gasp all the sensations overwhelming. The hard press of Eddie’s tattooed chest into your thighs, his scent invading your nose mixed with the smell of sex, the sting of his hips slapping your ass, his fingers digging into your shoulders, thick spreading you open slamming into your cervix leaving you a drooling babbling mess.

You can’t help the sob that leaves your lips. The pleasure crackling in every nerve ending if your body. You shudder underneath Eddie, gasping for air, choked with a moan. Big fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you cum and babble incoherently.

Your warm velvet walls squeezing Eddie’s cock, practically suffocating it. Moaning loudly, he closes his eyes, lost in the sensations coursing through his body. His breath comes in short, ragged gasps as you continue to pull him in creating a delicious friction that sends shivers down his spine. Until he finally lets go, the burn at his spine climbing like a spider in its web.

With a groan, thick white ropes painting your walls as the two of you pant for air. His arms shake as he pushes himself up gently moving your legs down from his shoulders.

“Fuck— that was…” he breathes heavily falling back down into your chest with a thud. His breath hot on your neck as he nuzzles into you. You lazily wrap your arms under his sweaty armpits.

“Didn’t know talking about my sixty year old co-worker would get you so hot” you tease

He chuckles, “there’s just something about Gladys and the way she fucking hates me.”

[judasofsuburbia]

something something middle school steve trying to form a crush on somebody because it seems like everybody has crushes. he tries some girls in his grade but loses interest quickly for silly reasons.

then, at lunch, he sees a girl with long brown curly hair and forehead bangs in a leather jacket, head ducked and legs pulled up to her chest. she must be an eighth grader because steve’s never seen her before. she’s headbanging to the music coming out of her headphones and is sitting all by herself. she doesn’t dress like girls in his grade. she’s rougher, edgier. steve likes this. it makes his stomach swoop.

she’s way across the cafeteria so he can’t make out a lot of her features but he decides leather girl is his new crush.

he never points her out to his friends. he wants to keep her to himself. doesn’t want tommy or anybody else sweeping her up.

not that he actually makes any moves to talk to her. no, instead, he stares from across the cafeteria every day and tries to figure out something new about her.

steve thinks it’s funny the way she picks the skin off her apple slices, eats the skin, and then eats the slice.

she usually gets two milks bc she pockets one of them. a bad girl, steve thinks giddily. she always waits until the bell rings to chug both of them which is odd but entertaining.

she has pins on her jacket that steve assumes are bands. no other girls really talk about bands outside of the beatles. leather girl doesn’t scream beatles fan to steve. he wonders if they like any of the same bands.

he makes up little scenarios in his head of walking up there and handing her a mixtape and the two of them sitting very close so they can both listen out of her headphones.

he throws away notes he writes her because they all sound lame. he also doesn’t know where her locker is. or what her homeroom is to send her candy grams on holidays. or even her name.

this all proves to be a challenge. so he gets comfortable with just admiring her from afar.

one day, he’s seating himself at the table with tommy and them when he hears boys from the football team shouting things like “finally, the freak got rid of the stupid hair!” and “how’s that breeze feel, munson? finally feel like a man?”

steve whips his head around to see the boys towering over leather girl’s table. only…it’s not leather girl. or, it is but all of her hair is gone. buzzed to her scalp. there are tears running down her face and steve realizes his mistake.

he wasn’t crushing on a mysterious eighth grade girl. no, he was crushing on eddie munson.

whom he’d never actually seen but heard a lot of nasty things about.

his stomach feels like it drops to the floor. he can no longer hear the ridicule or general noise of the cafeteria because his ears are ringing. he finally had a crush and he still messed it up. steve felt shame riddle through his body so he abruptly got up and went to the boy’s bathroom for the rest of lunch.

as the bell rang, steve couldn’t get himself to move from the stall he was hiding in. he knows he would get in trouble if one of the hall monitors found him but his body remains frozen. the door opens and steve holds his breath. steve sees white sneakers underneath the door and immediately, he knows it’s leather girl…no, fuck. it’s eddie.

eddie is stomping around, grumbling about his stupid dad and how he looks ugly now, obviously not realizing there is another person in the bathroom. steve hears sniffles and his heart breaks. tentatively, steve gets up and opens the stall door. eddie jumps and clutches the sink behind him.

his eyes are brown, steve thinks. and really pretty.

“jesus, kid, shouldn’t you be in class?” eddie rasps.

“shouldn’t you?” steve retorts, defensively.

“touche,” eddie deadpans. he wipes his tears furiously and sticks his head into the sink to splash water onto his face. steve observes quietly, finally seeing all the features he’s been staring at for months in full detail.

eddie pats his face down with a paper towel and notices steve is still there.

“do you want something?” eddie seethes.

steve chews on the inside of his cheek. he knows he can’t be crushing on a boy. still, even without the beautiful curls, eddie makes his heartbeat faster. he’s still so beautiful. he doesn’t want to go to class anymore.

“have you ever been to the football bleachers?” steve asks.

eddie narrows his eyes. “uh yeah, who hasn’t?”

steve stands up a little taller and tries again. “no, like, the concession stand. when there’s not a game going on.”

“no…” eddie gestures for steve to get to his point.

“i know how to get inside. there are snacks and sodas in there. they never notice a couple missing,” steve smiles as he feels more rebellious sharing this information. “i don’t know if you wanna…”

eddie raises an amused eyebrow. “play hookey?”

steve nods excitedly. he loves the way eddie grins in response.

“lead the way, kid.”

and if steve’s first kiss is a few weeks later by a pair of clumsy, sour candy tasting lips, he’ll never tell.

and if steve gets caught that day and gets detention through the end of the school year, it’s totally worth it.

because eddie is right there with him. crushing on him too.