𝖋 | 𝟥𝟥

* indicates smut

Whatever You Want, Baby* | 2.1k+ gross!reader loves smelling eddie's balls. that's it.

Don't Make A Mess, Baby* | 2.6k+ | standalone cont. of whatever you want, baby Deadlines are approaching, and Eddie makes you take a break before you stress yourself to death

Pretty & Forbidden* | 2.3k+ We're eating (eddie's ass) well tonight!

Don't Hold It* | 2.3k+ | (⚠️) It takes two parties for Eddie to discover he has a piss kink

Eddie had stolen more than a few glances in your direction throughout the evening, concern finding its way back into his eyes every time he looked at your tense shoulders and the way you held your head as though you were seconds away from a breakdown. He had tried numerous times to get you to take a breather. To step away from your work for a few minutes and give your fingers and wrist a chance to rest. To come outside with him, get some fresh air, maybe have a stress-cigarette.

Every attempt had been met with the same response. You barely looked up from your books, mumbling under your breath that you were too stressed about missing the deadline to take a break.

He was practically sprawled across the old couch, his eyes drifting from the glow of the television back to you every few seconds. By now, he could practically feel the deep crease between his eyebrows settling permanently into his skin.

“Okay, that’s it,” he muttered, pushing himself off the couch and making his way over to you. His hands found your shoulders instantly, fingers digging a little deeper than usual as he worked at some of the knots that had taken up residence beneath your skin. “I’m not asking this time. Get up.”

He sounded firm – almost curt – in the way that let you know he wasn’t playing around.

An exhausted sigh escaped you as you tilted your head back against his stomach, the pencil slipping from between your fingers and landing on the wooden table with a soft clank. You blinked tiredly up at Eddie, the bags beneath your eyes making your eyelids feel heavy.

Despite the tone in his voice, the expression on his face softened the moment he saw your exhausted stare, worry etched plainly across his features.

“Come sit with me on the couch.” He tilted his head for a brief second before his hand trailed down your arm and found yours, his fingers intertwined with your own as he gave your hand a gentle tug. Eddie made sure to wait until you were on your feet before heading back into the living room.

He easily settled back into his spot on the couch before pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around your frame. Your head immediately dropped into the crook of his neck as you breathed in the scent of his cheap shampoo – a smell that felt more like home than your own bedroom ever could.

You stayed like that for a moment: his arms wrapped tightly around you, and your eyes drifted shut for what was supposed to be just a few seconds, while the low hum of the television filled the silence between you.

“What do you need, baby?” he mumbled softly as he brought a hand up to smooth down the strands of hair you’d been pulling at all afternoon. “A shower? A nap? Greasy pizza?”

Your breath hitched for a moment, the first few words that left his mouth made your brain short-circuit for a split second before the rest of his question finally registered.

“I, uh…” you trailed off quietly before gulping.

You pressed your face further into him, burying yourself beneath his soft curls as you refused to meet his gaze.

Eddie let the silence linger for a few more seconds before he gently pushed you back, just enough that he could see your face.

“Hm?” he tilted his head to the side, searching your eyes for something as his fingers pushed a rogue strand behind your ear. “Tell me, sweetheart.”

A hint of embarrassment flashed across your features as you let out a deep sigh. Your fingers found the ends of his hair, curling the strands around your digits as you silently waited for Eddie to learn how to read your thoughts, just so you wouldn’t have to voice them aloud.

“Do you…” he trailed off softly, distractedly running his tongue over his chapped lips before trying again. “Do you wanna do that thing again?”

You stilled for a split second before shaking your head. Then you hesitated, nodded, and immediately seemed to reconsider. Eventually, you gave up on answering altogether.

“Just wanna shut my brain off,” you whispered softly, still refusing to meet his gaze.

Eddie’s eyes lingered on your face, searching for something until it finally clicked.

“We can do that,” he murmured, continuing to smooth down your hair.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than they usually did before he finally loosened his grip around your waist.

You quietly climbed off the couch and kneeled between his legs, patiently waiting for him to pull down the soft cotton of his sweatpants.

Eddie watched transfixed as anticipation coiled tight deep in his stomach. A part of him still didn’t fully understand how sitting between his thighs and having your mouth on him could help you relax the way it did, but he would never fail to surrender himself completely whenever you needed him like that.

The warm amber light of the kitchen spread into the living room, making your eyes glimmer when you looked up at Eddie.

His hands pushed the elastic band down until the black fabric pooled around his feet. You helped tugging it off, and threw it somewhere behind you.

Eddie’s hand tangled in your hair as he guided your mouth to meet his hardening cock still hidden behind his boxers. Soft gasps escaped him at the first brush of your tongue against him, spit seeping into the fabric.

His breath caught in his throat as you free his straining erection from his boxers, gently tugging the fabric down until it fell on the ground.

Your fingers felt warm and soft against his skin when you wrapped your hand around his cock, sending tiny sparks of pleasure racing up his spine. Eddie bit back a groan when your lips met the sensitive tip of his cock in feather-light kisses. A shudder rippled through him, muscles tensing and relaxing in waves as you trailed kisses down his length until reaching his fuzzy sack. You gave the skin a softly suckle, your eyes fluttering shut for a split second before you let go of his balls, and trailed back up until his tip rested gently against your lips. You gently part them and take him into your mouth, giving him lazy kisses and flicks of your tongue, in no hurry whatsoever.

Eddie’s breath came in short, sharp pants with each brush of your lips, each flick of your tongue. He reached for a loose strand of hair, pushing it behind your ear before the palm of his hand found your cheek. Your warmth seeped into his fingers and spread up his arm, sending little bursts of lighting down his spine.

“Take your time, baby,” he mumbled lowly while his thumb brushed soft circles against your cheek. “Atta girl, just like that.”

Your eyes were blinking lazily up at him as you slowly took more of him into your mouth. Eddie was long and thick, and you had learned long ago not to force your throat to take all of him at once.

Obscene wet sounds filled the living room as you took him deeper, dragging your tongue as you went. Eddie’s finger sank into your hair when your throat muscles fluttered around his length. He didn’t pull at your hair, just held you there for a second longer until a low gagging noise cut through the air. Your eyes fluttered shut and a soft, satisfied exhale escaped your nostrils when the swollen tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. The way his cock always forcefully stretched your throat open never failed to drown out the noises in your head – there was nothing else but Eddie, Eddie, Eddie echoing in your mind. Nothing else, just him.

A string of spit connected his red, swollen tip when you pulled back, thick drops of spit rolling down from his cock to his balls. Your chest heaved in desperation for a fresh breath of air as you gave him sloppy, open-mouthed kisses before you took him back into your mouth and bobbed your head down.

 “Is this what you needed, hm?” Eddie’s voice was thick and warm, sending bolts of lightning down your spine.

When you opened your eyes again, you were met with the most beautiful view you’d ever seen – his lips were as red and swollen as his tip, and he had a deep furrow settled between his eyebrows as he looked down at you. His molten brown eyes were glued to your mouth, stretched tightly around his girthy cock while your spit somehow continued to find its way down his length.

“Don’t make a mess, baby,” he mumbled as he let go of your hair. He slid his hand between you, coating his fingers in the spit that had trailed down to his balls, and brought his digits back to your face, staining your skin just like you'd done to him.

Heat spread across your features when he kept trailing his wet fingers across your face, and before you knew it, a desperate, muffled groan escaped you. “God, you look so pretty like this.”

Eddie gave you an accidental thrust of his hips when he felt your throat tighten around him. “Fuck. Sorry, sweetheart,” he breathed out.

His big eyes glistened when you blinked slowly at him before shutting your eyes altogether. Your lips were slick, head bobbing up and down in slow, deep strokes before you pulled away. 

“C’mere,” he murmured softly as he leaned forwards and pulled you up.

Eddie’s fingers found the elastic band of your panties underneath the oversized shirt you’d thrown on earlier, tugging it down until it fell on the ground, and pulled you into his lap. 

He sucked in a sharp breath as you straddled him, your soaked fold sliding along his hard cock before you enveloped him in one fluid motion. A broken whine escaped you when the sudden, exquisite pressure nearly undid you.

Eddie wrapped his arms around your frame, holding you flush against his chest while you hid your face into the crook of his neck, soft pants and broken whimpers spilling from your lips. You humped him slow and helpless, every protruding vein rubbing against your slick walls, driving you absolutely insane. 

Eddie felt you gush around his thick base, your arousal dripping down his balls and mixing with your spit. Sweet, sticky strings of your essence broke every time you bounced on his lap.

“You’re so messy,” he muttered in your ear and tightened his hold on you while his hips jerked up to meet yours. “I’m practically drowning here in spit and slick.”

“S-sorry, E-Eds,” you nearly choked on air when the words slipped from your mouth. 

You were absolutely putty in his arms as he gave you slow thrusts, hitting that special, hidden spot. Something incomprehensible fell from your lips while his cock slid in and out of your velvety walls, loud slikslikslik’s echoing through the living room, leaving you no choice but to wrap your arms tightly around his neck for extra support, nails digging sharply into skin. 

“Mmpff! Ed-Eddie!”

You desperately needed him, right then and there, as you teetered on the edge of your orgasm. One of his hands slipped under your shirt, gently trailing up and down your back while tiny tears rolled down your cheeks – almost like he was comforting you. And maybe he was, because the torturous drag of his cock was absolutely overwhelming while he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispered in your ear, giving you one a hard thrust. “Give it to me, lemme feel you.”

The mounting pressure finally snapped, the muscles in your legs tensed up before they relaxed into a wobbly mess on each side of him, your sticky cum trailing down his length as he continued snapping his hips in pursuit of his own release. Your mouth hung open while he continued fucking into you in that pace that drove you insane, prolonging the buzz underneath your skin.

“That’s my girl.” His voice was hoarse and dripped with lust

Utterly spent, you clenched around him on purpose, again and again, until his rhythm finally stuttered and broken moans spilled from his lips.

Eddie came with a loud, broken whimper, hips pushed flushed against yours as he pumped warm, sticky ropes of cum and filled you to the brim, thick rolls of milky white fluids rolling down his length and mixing with your essence and spit. 

He brought one of his hands to the back of your head, holding you there as he nudged the tip of his nose against your skin, breathing in your sweaty scent mixed with faint traces of the perfume you’d sprayed earlier that day. Eddie stayed deep inside you for a moment longer, feeling his cock twitching helplessly every time your pussy fluttered around him, the last few waves of ecstasy still lingering. 

“God, baby, I love you.”

“Mhmm,” was all you mastered to groan out.

Eddie placed a soft kiss against your temple while he dragged his eyes towards the clock hanging in the kitchen – a little after one, late enough he could make you come to bed with him without having you complain about your deadline. Not that you’d have been able to put up much of a fight anyway, already half-asleep with your face buried against his neck.

He pulled you away from the crook of his head just enough so his lips could swipe over yours for the briefest kiss. His hands curled around your thighs and he pulled you up, stilling for just a second when he felt his legs wobble, and then making his way to his bedroom with his cock still deep inside you.

“Let’s get you some sleep, hm?” he whispered softly, placing another kiss on your temple as he lowered you slowly on his bed. He hissed as he pulled out, his softening cock twitching when you fluttered at the movement. You hummed absentmindedly at his words, eyes fluttered shut.

Eddie kneeled down in front of you and picked the first piece of clothing he laid his eyes on, and gently dragged it through your folds, cleaning you with as delicately as he could.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered softly when you racked a sob and twitched under his hands. “Almost done, yeah?”

When he was done, he leaned over and brought a finger under your chin, pulling you in for a soft, quick kiss. He climbed up beside you and pulled you flush against his chest, kissing the top of your head while he got himself comfortable.

“You feel better, sweetheart?”

There was a tender glimmer in his gaze when he looked at you.

You were already gone.

Eddie chuckled under his breath and kissed your temple one last time before closing his head and following you to the land of the dreaming.

You relied on Eddie in many ways. Guy problems? He was the first one you'd call if a date went sour. Work drama? The second you got off, you'd pace around his trailer, explaining the usual bullshit as he sat on the couch, chiming in when necessary.

Somewhere along the way, the line between "best friends" and... whatever this was had gotten a little blurry. You couldn't remember exactly when it happened. Maybe it was the fact that you had a drawer at Eddie's trailer for spare clothes, or that he never knocked before walking into your apartment. 

Hell, even the rest of your friends had long since given up trying to figure it out. Robin had stopped correcting strangers when they assumed you two were dating, Dustin had started referring to you as "Eddie's girl" just to watch the two of you sputter, and Steve swore you were both "the dumbest almost-couple" he'd ever met.

The funny part was, neither of you ever denied liking the other. You just... never actually admitted it, either.

So life carried on in that weird in-between, where lingering touches lasted a little too long, late-night drives felt suspiciously like dates, and neither of you was brave enough to ask what any of it meant.

In many ways, Eddie was the best friend you could ask for. But the one thing you hated? He was a cocky bastard when it came to anything competitive. 

Any game night, whether that's something as simple as Uno or arcade games, he thought he was the best. Though, to be fair, he was. Which is why, after one fateful 1v1 of pool at the Hideout, when he conned your ass like a fool and beat you out of a hundred bucks, you needed revenge.

So, naturally, your pride wouldn't let him teach you how to play, oh no. Instead, you decided to ask Steve. Steve wasn't someone in the group you were particularly close to.

But, beyond him, your options to teach you how to win at stupid bar games were Robin, who was as agile as a baby deer, or Nancy, who could care less about you and Eddie's billiard feud.

Steve looked up from where he was wiping down the windshield of his BMW in his driveway, rag slung over one shoulder. "You want me to do what?"

"Teach me pool."

He blinked. "...Pool."

"Yes, Steve. The game. With the sticks."

"I know what pool is."

"Good. Then we're making progress."

He laughed, tossing the rag over the hood. "Since when have you been interested in pool?"

You crossed your arms. "I'm interested in beating Eddie."

"Oh."

"Exactly."

A grin slowly spread across his face. "...I'm in."

The Hideout wasn't open yet, save for a handful of regulars nursing beers before the evening crowd rolled in.

Music crackled quietly through the speakers while Eddie hauled cases of liquor behind the bar, already halfway through complaining to Gareth about a distributor screwing up another order.

"You know what they gave us?" Eddie scoffed. "Light beer. We don't even sell the shit."

Gareth shrugged. "People drink it."

"No, they most certainly do not."

Then the front door opened, so Eddie glanced over automatically. You walked in first with Steve following close behind.

His eyebrows pinched together. "...What the hell?"

Steve waved toward the bar. "Yo."

Eddie nodded slowly. "Harrington."

Then his eyes landed back on you. "What're you doing here? Thought you worked today."

"I did."

"And now?"

You smiled sweetly. "I'm learning."

"...Learning what?"

Steve answered before you could. "Pool."

Eddie glanced between the two of you, raising one finger accusingly. "...From you?"

Steve looked genuinely confused by the question. "...Yeah?"

"You know how to play?"

Steve frowned. "Dude."

"What?"

"I've been playing forever."

Eddie stared for another second before scoffing to himself.

"...Whatever." Then, he disappeared into the back, huffing something under his breath.

For the next forty-five minutes, Steve proved to be a surprisingly patient teacher.

"No, loosen your grip."

"I'm trying."

"I know, but you're choking the cue."

"I'm not choking it."

"You absolutely are."

He stepped behind you. "Here."

His hands lightly adjusted yours on the cue. "Relax your shoulders."

You exhaled.

"There."

You lined up another shot and missed. "Oh, come on!"

"You looked better."

"I looked better?"

"That's half the battle."

Across the room, Eddie slammed a rack of glasses onto the shelf harder than necessary, causing Gareth to look over.

"...Everything alright?"

"Fantastic."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

He dared another glance; Steve had crouched beside you now, pointing toward one of the corner pockets.

"If you bank it off this rail—"

Eddie shook his head and continued polishing the same glass he'd already finished.

"He's practically climbing inside her personal bubble."

Gareth followed his gaze to Steve's arm, which reached across yours to point toward the angle.

"...Looks like he's just showing her."

"Mhm."

"You jealous?"

Eddie barked out a laugh. "Of Steve? ...No."

"Exactly."

Gareth watched him continue scrubbing the spotless glass.

"...You're polishing air."

"I know."

"...You wanna go interrupt them?"

"No."

"...Looks like she's laughing."

"I can see."

Steve said something that made you laugh again, a little louder than the last time.

Eddie's jaw ticked. "He's not even that funny."

Gareth snorted. "You realize you've been watching them for like twenty minutes?"

"I have not."

"You absolutely have."

"I've been working."

"Eddie."

"What?"

"...You've poured the same guy three refills without him asking."

Eddie froze and slowly looked toward the older regular sitting at the bar. The man raised his fourth full beer.

"Thanks, Munson!"

"...Shit."

By the end of the lesson, you actually sank three balls in a row.

Steve pointed at the table dramatically. "There it is!"

"I did that."

"You did."

"I actually did that."

"Told you."

You grinned. "You are officially my favorite Harrington."

"There aren't exactly many of us."

Still smiling, you turned toward the bar. "Eddie!"

He looked up immediately. "What?"

Your grin somehow got even bigger. "Rematch."

The entire bar seemed to perk up. Eddie leaned against the counter, folding his arms.

"...You sure?"

"Oh, I'm positive."

"You just spent an hour getting coached."

"So?"

"I don't know..." A slow smirk tugged at his mouth. "Sounds a little desperate."

"It sounds like I got tired of losing to someone whose entire personality revolves around a pool table."

A chorus of quiet "oohs" erupted from the regulars. Eddie placed a hand dramatically over his chest.

"That's hurtful."

"You'll survive."

He pushed off the bar, grabbing a cue from behind the counter. "Same bet?"

You scoffed. "I'm not giving you another hundred dollars."

"Coward."

"I'm being financially responsible."

"Chicken."

"I'm smarter than you."

"Doubtful."

Steve quietly stepped backward. "Yeah…I'm gonna head out."

"You probably should," Gareth agreed.

"You created this monster."

"I absolutely did."

Eddie twirled the cue once in his hand before pointing it at you. "You've got one shot, sweetheart."

You stepped closer until only the pool table separated the two of you. "I only need one."

His grin faltered for just a second. Not because of the challenge, lord knows he loves a challenging woman. But because you'd wandered close enough that he could smell your perfume.

You caught the slight pause in his usual bravado, eyes quickly darting across his face. Then Eddie recovered first, spinning the cue between his fingers with that infuriatingly cocky grin.

"Ladies first."

"Oh," you smiled, taking the cue from his hand just slowly enough for your fingers to brush against his, "I'm gonna enjoy wiping that smug look off your face."

His eyebrow quirked up then. "...We'll see."

The first break went to you.

You leaned over the table, tongue poking against the inside of your cheek the way Steve had told you not to do because it apparently made you overthink your shot. The cue cracked against the rack, sending the balls scattering across the felt.

One dropped, then another, causing a grin to spread across your face.

"Oh, that's gotta sting."

Eddie clicked his tongue. "Beginner's luck."

"You've been saying that for the last three games."

"And eventually I'll be right."

"I've won one."

"You've won almost one."

"I was one ball away."

"You still lost."

You rolled your eyes, circling the table as you looked for your next shot. "God, you're insufferable."

"And yet, here you are."

"Only because watching you lose is going to heal something in me."

Eddie laughed under his breath, leaning his hip against the edge of the table while you lined up your cue.

"Careful," he mused. "Harrington tell you to keep your elbow up?"

You didn't look at him. "He did, actually."

"Hm."

"And to follow through."

"Mhm."

"And to stop gripping the cue like I was trying to strangle it."

Eddie made a face. "...That sounds like something he'd say."

"It worked."

"So did cheating."

You looked up. "I wasn't aware lessons counted as cheating."

"They do when they're from the enemy."

"The enemy?" You snorted. "Steve?"

"He knows what he is."

"Oh, does he?"

"Mhm."

You laughed quietly, taking your shot. The cue ball kissed the side of yours just enough to send it into the corner pocket, causing it to disappear with a satisfying clack.

Your jaw dropped. "I meant to do that."

"No, you didn't."

"I absolutely did."

"You looked surprised."

"I was surprised by how well I did it."

"Sure."

You pointed the cue at him. "Don't ruin this for me."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

The game continued like that, each shot somehow accompanied by another jab, another smug remark, another excuse for the two of you to drift closer as you circled opposite ends of the table.

"You scratched."

"I was distracted."

"By what?"

"You talking."

"I wasn't talking."

"You exist loudly."

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

You nudged him lightly with your shoulder as you squeezed past him. He didn't move, not even an inch.

"You know," you muttered, looking up at him, "most people would step out of the way."

"I'm not most people."

"So I've noticed."

Instead, he leaned down just enough that his shoulder bumped yours back.

"Figure it out."

"Oh, you're the worst."

"Sure I am.”

You huffed dramatically before ducking around him, though not without your arm brushing against his on the way by.

A few turns later, you found yourself stuck behind him as he leaned over the table, studying an angle that frankly looked impossible.

You waited, but he simply didn't move. "Eddie."

"Mhm?"

"I can't see."

"I'm thinking."

"You've been thinking for like two minutes."

"It's called strategy."

"It's called stalling."

He looked over his shoulder. "I don't stall."

"You absolutely stall."

"I am visualizing."

"You are making shit up."

Finally, he straightened, only to find you standing much closer than he'd expected. For a second, neither of you stepped back.

Then you smiled. "My turn."

He cleared his throat and took a step aside. "Be my guest."

You bent over the table, carefully lining up your shot. The cue slid forward, clack, and another ball dropped.

Behind you, Eddie let out an exaggerated sigh. "I knew Harrington was a bad influence."

You glanced over your shoulder. "Oh my God."

"What?"

"You are unbelievable."

"I'm serious."

"No, you're not."

"He spent one afternoon with you and suddenly you're running tables."

"I'm hardly running the table."

"You're certainly trying."

You rested both hands on the cue, smiling to yourself. "You know..."

"What?"

"...If I didn't know any better..."

Eddie lifted an eyebrow.

"...I'd say you're jealous of Steve."

Eddie's smile stayed exactly where it was. Only this time, it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Jealous?"

"Mhm."

"Of Steve."

"You've mentioned him..." You pretended to think for a moment. "...What? Eight times since we started?"

"I have not."

"You've called him the enemy."

"He is."

"You accused him of cheating."

"He was."

"You've insulted his teaching."

"It wasn't that good."

"I've made more shots tonight than I have in the last six months."

He clicked his tongue. "Coincidence."

You laughed. "You're jealous."

He held your gaze for a long moment, twirling the cue lazily between his fingers before shrugging one shoulder. "...Maybe I was."

Eddie looked almost as surprised by his own answer as you were. He scratched the back of his neck, looking away with a quiet scoff.

"I mean..." he muttered, trying and failing to sound casual, "guy's got his hands all over you. Kinda weird."

Your heart did a slow, traitorous little flip. "So that's what this is about?"

He looked back at you. "I don't like people assuming they can get all cozy with you."

"Steve was teaching me."

"I know."

"You've practically climbed all over me trying to fix my stance before."

"That's different."

"How?"

"'Cause..." He gestured vaguely between the two of you. "...It's me."

You couldn't help it when a grin spread across your face. "Oh, wow."

"What?"

"You really don't hear yourself, do you?"

"Oh, shut up."

You laughed outright this time, and Eddie couldn't stop himself from smiling back, shaking his head as he pointed the cue toward the table.

"Take your shot before I remember why I like beating you so much."

You stepped up beside him, your shoulder brushing his as you passed.

"I'm starting to think you don't like beating me nearly as much as you pretend you do."

For the first time all night, Eddie didn't have a smartass comeback. He just watched you lean over the table, trying very hard not to notice how unfairly pretty you looked when you were concentrating.

The game stretched on longer than it should have, every shot laced with your growing confidence and Eddie's sharpening edges.

But in the end, you sank the eight-ball clean, right into the corner pocket with a decisive thunk that echoed through the bar like a victory bell.

The regulars let out a low chorus of approval. Eddie stared at the table for a moment too long, cue still gripped tight in one hand, before his gaze lifted to yours.

That cocky smirk was still plastered on his face, but it had gone tight at the corners.

You leaned on your cue, flushed with triumph and just enough adrenaline to push. "Hmph. Steve must be a good teacher after all," you said sweetly, tilting your head. 

Something dark flickered in Eddie's eyes. He set the cue down with deliberate calm, then crossed the space between you in two strides. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, lifting it with a gentle yet firm grip. 

"Alright," he said, voice low, "that's enough."

He tugged you toward the back hallway, past the storage room and out the rear door into the narrow alley behind the Hideout. The door slammed shut behind you, cutting off the muffled sounds of the bar. 

"Eddie—" you started, but he spun you around, pressing your back to the rough brick before you could finish. His body crowded yours instantly, one thigh slotting between your legs as his free hand braced beside your head.

"You think this is funny?" he growled, mouth hovering inches from yours. His breath was ragged. "Parading Harrington in here, letting him put his hands all over you while I watch?"

"He was teaching me," you breathed, even as heat pooled low in your belly. God, he was jealous. Really jealous. It shouldn't turn you on this much, but the way his grip tightened on your wrist sent a shiver straight through you.

"Sure, doll. Teaching." Eddie's other hand slid down your side, bunching your shirt up roughly until his palm met bare skin. "Laughed at his shitty jokes. Let him stand that close." He leaned in, lips brushing your ear. "You know exactly what you're doing to me, sweetheart."

You arched into him. "Maybe I do."

That was all it took. His mouth crashed into yours, all teeth and tongue and pent-up frustration. You kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers threading into his curls and tugging hard enough to make him groan against your lips. 

He tasted like cheap beer and that stupid cinnamon gum he always chewed, and underneath it all, that unmistakable Eddie scent that always made your head spin.

His hand shoved under your waistband without preamble, fingers dipping between your thighs to find you already slick. A low, satisfied rumble vibrated in his chest.

"Fuck. This wet for me, or were you thinking about his hands the whole time?"

"Yours," you gasped as he circled your clit with two rough fingertips, pressing just right. "Always yours, you idiot."

"Good answer." He nipped at your bottom lip, then spun you again; face toward the wall this time.

Your palms braced against the cool brick as he yanked your jeans and underwear down in one impatient motion, just enough to bare you to the night air. The sound of his belt buckle and zipper was obscenely loud in the quiet alley.

He pressed against your back, hard and hot, one hand sliding up to wrap loosely around your throat.

"You don't get to tease me like that and walk away," he murmured, lips against the shell of your ear. His cock nudged at your entrance, thick and insistent. "Gonna fuck the thought of him right out of you."

Then he thrusted in deep, one smooth stroke that punched the air from your lungs. You moaned, the sound echoing off the bricks as he filled you completely. He didn't give you time to adjust. Just pulled back and drove in again, setting a punishing rhythm that had your toes curling in your shoes.

" Eddie—fuck—"

"Yeah, say my name." His grip on your hip tightened, rings digging in as he angled deeper, hitting that spot that made sparks explode behind your eyes. "Louder. Let the whole damn alley hear who you belong to."

You did. Gasping it out between thrusts, voice breaking as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter. He reached around, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing in tight, relentless circles while his hips snapped against your ass.

"Such a brat," he panted, teeth grazing your shoulder through your shirt. "You were so cocky before. What happened, huh baby?" He punctuated each word with a thrust, grinding deep on the last one until you were trembling.

The orgasm hit you like a freight train. You clenched around him, crying out as waves of heat crashed through you. Eddie followed right behind with a choked groan, burying himself to the hilt and spilling hot inside you, hips stuttering as he rode it out.

For a long moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the distant hum of traffic. Then he eased out slowly, careful despite the raw edge still humming between you. He tucked himself away, then turned you gently, pulling your clothes back into place with surprisingly tender hands.

Eddie rested his forehead against yours, thumbs brushing your flushed cheeks. "You okay?" he asked. 

You smiled, still catching your breath, and tugged lightly at one of his curls. "I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

He searched your face for another second anyway, like he wasn't entirely convinced until he saw the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Only then did his shoulders finally loosen.

"There you are," he murmured.

"There I am?"

"You disappeared for a minute."

"I think I had a good reason."

He snorted, ducking his head with an embarrassed grin. It was strange seeing him like this.

Five minutes ago, he'd been all confidence and smart remarks, and now he suddenly looked like the same guy who got flustered whenever Wayne asked if the two of you were dating.

You brushed an imaginary speck of dust from the shoulder of his jacket. "So..."

"So?"

"...Does this mean I finally get to stop pretending we're just friends?"

His eyes met yours again. "I'd really appreciate that."

You laughed quietly. "I've gotta admit, Munson. I was starting to think you were hopeless."

"Oh, I was."

"You were."

"I mean it." He leaned back against the brick wall, slipping one hand into yours.

"I don't think I realized just how bad I had it until today."

"The pool lessons pissed you off that bad?"

He nodded. "When I saw Harrington behind you..." He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head at himself. "God, I was so irrationally pissed."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really? I couldn’t tell."

“Shut up.”

"He was just teaching me pool so I could beat you and get on your nerves." You bumped his shoulder. "Which, by the way, worked beautifully."

"Yeah, yeah."

"You were glaring at him like he keyed your van."

"He was standing way too close."

"He was showing me how to bank a shot."

"Didn't need to be all..." Eddie gestured vaguely with his free hand. "...Harrington about it."

You laughed. "What does that even mean?"

"You know."

"No, I actually don't."

"All..." He sighed dramatically. "Perfect hair. Nice smile. Hands everywhere."

"His hands were on the cue."

Eddie gave you a look. "Mostly."

You couldn't help laughing. "You're unbelievable."

"I know that now."

"You knew it then."

"...I did."

"So why were you so grumpy?"

He was quiet for a second, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

"Because I kept thinking..." He shrugged, almost embarrassed by himself. "'What if she realizes she likes him better?'"

You blinked. "...Steve?"

"Sounds stupid out loud, doesn't it?"

"A little."

"Thanks."

"Eddie." You laughed, giving his hand a squeeze. "You really thought I was gonna fall for Steve Harrington because he showed me how to hold a pool cue?"

"I wasn't exactly thinking rationally."

"Clearly."

He groaned, dropping his head against your shoulder. "Can we pretend I never admitted any of this?"

"Absolutely not."

"Figured."

love me a good dom!eddie what can i say

also, the taglist is being really funky. i'm sorry if it's not tagging everyone pasted, i've been messing with the tags every time but tumblr likes to play games sooooooo

if you wanna be notified when i post, don't be shy and turn those post notis on ;))

taglist:

@a-villain-vying-for-attention  @fapqueen @sadgirl-bee @bowie-frommars @milescrypt  @bitterestwillow @lnnn1n @youngbrokefab @ludachrissy @sisteramycatherine @izzycstairs @britttzy267 @eddiemunsonsimpp @powerpuffedbjtch @sariahs-stuff @cciessuzi @lilyquinnmunson @julxsxx @kozume-ko @obsessed-eddie @doomdabss @leelei1980 @hexqueensupreme @ches-86 @plaidamoosette @bobiverses @meadows-of-asphodel @whitakerstorm @brrrainst3w @serendipdipity01 @hypersexytoptobottom @m-art000 @walleloveseve @camsmunson101 @flavorfullsteve @peachpuffs25 @micheledawn1975 @whitakerstorm @cciessuzi @blackqueenie-18 @ggdawgg @velvetdimond @enne02  @ludachrissy @izzycstairs @abbysleftbicepp @britttzy267 @ssculker @eddiemunsonsimpp @powerpuffedbjtch @kylorensbaby @raeyas-ghost @gunnersaurusrex @mortalselfprojected @lilyquinnmunson @this-issam @acrloved @foxygrll @ghoulishjewels @sespe08 @emily-robert @revesephemeres @laraabarett @kylorensbaby @fanficrebloggy @roxypixiechic @munsonsvixen

@fapqueen

@djoshairychest

Steve sat up just enough to point his beer bottle at the group like a scepter.

“Alright, my turn again. Never have I ever… gotten high and tried to cook at three in the morning.”

You lifted your bottle immediately. So did Robin, Eddie, and- after a guilty pause- Nancy.

Robin cackled, nearly spilling her drink. “The toaster incident! I stand by it. Pop-Tarts are a perfectly valid midnight meal.”

“You put the Pop-Tart wrapper in the toaster,” Steve shot back, wheezing. “I had to unplug the whole damn thing before the kitchen caught fire. You’re a menace.”

Eddie threw his head back with a theatrical groan. “Amateur hour. I once tried to make grilled cheese at three a.m. while stoned out of my skull. Used a fork. On an electric stove. There were sparks. I named the scorch mark on the wall and we had a funeral for it the next day.”

Nancy was giggling into Jonathan’s shoulder, trying and failing to look dignified. “I made… I think it was supposed to be pancakes? But I used cornflakes instead of flour because the bag looked similar and the labels were blurry. It was… crunchy.”

Jonathan’s quiet laugh rumbled under her. “I remember that. You tried to serve it to me like it was intentional. ‘It’s deconstructed,’ you said.”

“Shut up,” Nancy muttered, but she was smiling.

Robin pointed at you, eyes sparkling. “You drank too! What was your crime against the culinary arts?”

You shrugged, fighting a grin. “Tried to make mashed potatoes but ended up just sticking the potato in the microwave and forgetting to cook it. Bit into a raw fuckin' potato.”

The group lost it. Steve actually rolled onto his back in the grass, clutching his stomach. Eddie sat up so fast he almost fell off the table.

“Legendary. Absolute madwoman.”

Robin wiped tears from her eyes. “Okay, okay, my turn. Never have I ever… had a secret hookup that I never told anyone in this circle about.”

A beat. Then Eddie and Steve both drank without hesitation.

Robin’s jaw dropped. “EXCUSE ME? Both of you? At the same time? Separately? Details. Now. I demand details.”

Eddie grinned, all teeth and chaos. “Relax, Buckley, it wasn’t with each other. Though that would’ve been a hell of a story. No, this was… senior year. Very short-lived. Very ill-advised. She thought I was mysterious. I thought she was hot. We both realized we were wrong by morning. End of saga.”

Steve took a long sip like it might save him from the interrogation. “Mine was… after senior year. Different person. We agreed it was a one-time thing. Haven’t thought about it since. Until right now. Thanks for that, Robin.”

Robin was vibrating. “I hate both of you. I tell you everything and you’re out here hoarding girls like dragons. Unfair. I want names. Or at least embarrassing details. Did anyone cry? Was there a walk of shame? Was it in a car? Be specific.”

Nancy raised an eyebrow, amused. “I feel like we’re one question away from a full confessional.”

Jonathan just shook his head, small smile in place. “I’m staying out of this one.”

Eddie pointed at him. “Smart man. Jonathan knows the value of silence. Unlike some people.” He shot a look at Steve, who flipped him off lazily.

Robin was still going. “I’m circling back to this later. Mark my words. This is not over.”

The laughter died down into comfortable, tipsy quiet for a second, the kind where everyone was just enjoying the buzz and the night air. Then Eddie shifted on the picnic table, rings catching the light as he leaned forward with that signature glint in his eyes- the one that always meant trouble was incoming.

“Alright, my turn again, you beautiful disasters. I’ve been saving this one.” He paused for dramatic effect, looking around the circle like he was about to drop state secrets. “Never have I ever… not come during sex.”

The air shifted just slightly. Steve made a face like he’d tasted something sour. Robin shook her head immediately. Nancy didn’t move. Jonathan stayed still.

You lifted your bottle and took a slow sip.

For three full seconds, nobody said anything.

Then the backyard exploded all over again.

Robin made a noise like a dying seagull and actually fell sideways onto the blanket. “YOU DRANK?! You actually drank?! But you’re- you! How is that even possible? Was it recent? Was it that one guy? Oh my God, tell me it wasn’t that one guy with the weird shoes-”

Steve sat upright, beer forgotten in the grass. “No. Absolutely not. Rewind the tape. You’re telling me some absolute clown had the privilege of being anywhere near you and just… tapped out? Like the job was done for him and he clocked out early? That’s not even selfish, that’s a federal offense. I’m personally offended.”

Eddie had gone very still, the usual manic energy sharpening into something focused and almost offended on your behalf. He stared at you like you’d just announced the end of the world.

“Sweetheart. No. We’re not doing this. Who the fuck was it? Give me a name, a description, a license plate number- I’m not picky.”

Nancy blinked rapidly, her analytical brain clearly fighting the tequila. “I… okay. That’s surprising. From you. Are you- I mean, obviously it wasn’t great if- wait, that came out wrong. Do you want to talk about it? We can talk about it. Or we can drop it completely. But also we’re all very invested now, so. Your move.”

Jonathan’s voice was quiet but sincere under the chaos. “That really sucks. Like… actually sucks. Sorry that happened.”

The questions started flying, voices overlapping in drunk, protective, nosy waves.

Robin, half-sitting up again- “Was it bad-bad or just ‘eh’ bad? Did you fake it or just lie there like ‘well, this is happening’? Because I have strong opinions about faking it and I need to know if I should be adding this person to my shit list-”

Steve, pointing dramatically- “On a scale of one to ‘I want to key their car and also their life,’ how bad are we talking? And do I need to go do recon tonight or can it wait till I’m sober?”

Eddie, already in full dramatic mode- “I’m in mourning. Actual mourning. The concept that you have experienced subpar anything and didn’t immediately tell us so we could form a council of war? Rude. Disrespectful. I demand emotional damages.”

Nancy, trying to sound reasonable while clearly spiraling a little- “Statistically it happens more than people admit, especially if there’s alcohol or if the other person’s… not great at listening. But still. You? Really? Do you want advice or just… collective judgment of this mystery idiot?”

Jonathan, dry as ever- “Or we can just sit here and roast them in silence. That’s also an option.”

Eddie was still staring at you, something unreadable flickering behind the theatrical bullshit. Steve looked ready to stand up and demand an address. Robin was vibrating with secondhand outrage and best-friend protectiveness. Nancy had that little crease between her brows. Jonathan just watched you, steady in the middle of the storm.

The game was forgotten.

The night, however, felt like it had just cracked open.

The group was still staring at you, the night air thick with weed smoke and the kind of drunk, high curiosity that made everything feel like the most important conversation on earth.

You shrugged, keeping it short because the buzz in your head made long explanations feel impossible.

“It was that guy I went on a couple dates with. He got his and that was it. Didn’t really care if I did or not. It just… didn’t happen for me. I didn’t make it a thing.”

Silence for half a second.

Then the backyard lost its collective mind all over again.

Robin made a noise like she’d been personally stabbed. “He what?! He got his and just- rolled over?! Like a fucking seagull that stole a fry and flew away?! I’m going to kill him. I don’t even remember his name but I’m going to find him and I’m going to-”

Steve sat up so fast he almost face-planted in the grass. “No. Nope. That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works. You don’t just- Jesus Christ, what a fucking loser. I’m actually angry. Like, real anger. My blood pressure is up.”

Nancy’s voice was tight, the tipsy analytical tone cracking into something sharper. “That’s not even selfish sex, that’s just… using someone. That’s unacceptable. I’m sorry that happened to you. Really.”

Jonathan just shook his head slowly, quiet but firm. “Guy sounds like an asshole. You deserved better than that.”

But Eddie-

Eddie went very, very still.

The manic energy that usually lived in his hands and his voice had narrowed into something focused and almost dangerous. He slid off the picnic table in one fluid motion, boots hitting the grass with a soft thud, and crossed the circle until he was crouched right in front of your chair. Close enough that you could see the way the string lights caught the silver in his rings, the faint scar on his bottom lip, the way his dark eyes had gone hot and serious in a way you’d never seen directed at you before.

His voice came out low, rough around the edges from the smoke and the drinks.

“No. Fuck that. That’s not okay. That’s not even in the same zip code as okay.” He shook his head once, hard, curls falling into his face. “You’re telling me some mediocre, selfish little shit got to touch you- got to have you- and didn’t even have the decency to make sure you came? That’s not a mistake. That’s a crime. And I’m taking it personally.”

He reached out, slow enough that you could pull away if you wanted, and rested one warm, ring-heavy hand on your knee. His thumb brushed once over the fabric of your jeans, barely there, but the touch lit up every nerve ending like a live wire.

“I’ve always liked you,” he said, voice dropping even lower, just for you even though the whole group could hear. “Like… liked you. I’ve thought about you a lot. More than I should’ve. Way more.”

Robin made a tiny, high-pitched noise somewhere behind him. Steve muttered “Oh shit, he’s really doing this,” but didn’t sound mad about it.

Eddie didn’t look away from you. His hand stayed on your knee, thumb still moving in that slow, deliberate stroke.

“And now I find out some asshole left you hanging? Nah. Not happening. Not on my watch.” His mouth curved into something that was half grin, half promise. “So here’s what’s gonna happen, sweetheart. I’m making it my personal fucking mission to give you an orgasm so good you forget that guy’s name, his face, and the entire concept of bad sex. If you’ll let me.”

He leaned in closer- his lips just shy of your ear-  his whispering voice turning darker, flirtier, filthy in that Eddie way.

“I’d take my time. None of that ‘get mine and dip’ bullshit. I’d learn what you like. What makes your breath catch. What makes your thighs shake. I’d use my mouth, my fingers, my cock- whatever you wanted, however long it took. I’d make you come so many times you’d be begging me to stop… or begging me not to.” His thumb pressed a little firmer against your knee. “And I’d enjoy every second of it. Because I’ve wanted to hear you fall apart for a while now. And I’m really fucking good at getting what I want when I decide something matters.”

The group had gone mostly quiet behind him, the air crackling with secondhand tension and drunk fascination.

Robin whispered, “Holy shit,” like she was watching a car crash in slow motion and couldn’t look away.

Steve cleared his throat. “Munson, you’re really out here shooting your shot in front of all of us? Bold. I respect it. But also… maybe give her a second to answer before you start planning the victory lap?”

Nancy’s voice was a little breathless. “I mean… he has a point about the mission part. The delivery could use work, but the intent is… surprisingly pure? In a very Eddie way.”

Jonathan just gave a low, amused hum. “He’s been staring at you for months. We all noticed. This isn’t news.”

Eddie didn’t even glance at them. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark and hungry and suddenly very, very serious under all the theatrical bullshit.

“So?” he asked, voice soft but rough, thumb still stroking slow circles on your knee. “You gonna let me fix it? Or you gonna make me work for it first? Because I’m good with either. I like a challenge. And I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you for a long time.”

The open backyard felt smaller suddenly. Just his hand on your knee, his voice in your ear, the way the buzz in your head made every word feel heavier, hotter, more inevitable.

And Eddie Munson was looking at you like he’d already decided you were the only thing that mattered tonight.

You didn’t even hesitate. The buzz made everything feel simple, inevitable.

“Okay,” you said, meeting Eddie’s eyes. “Yeah. I’m in. Fix it.”

Steve made a noise behind Eddie as Robin excitedly poked him in the ribs.

“Oh my God. No. Nope. Absolutely not. I am begging you two. Not here. Not tonight. Not while we’re all sitting in my backyard like this. The pool does not need to see whatever the hell is about to happen. I’m serious. Take it inside later. Or tomorrow. Or never in front of me. I’m begging. On my knees. Metaphorically. Please.”

Eddie threw his head back and laughed- loud, bright, delighted, the sound cutting through the night air like it belonged there. He didn’t even look at Steve. His eyes stayed on you, dark and shining, like Steve’s panic was the funniest thing he’d heard all week.

You tilted your head at Eddie, feeling bold and bratty and loose from the weed and the tequila and the way he was still touching your knee like he owned the right.

“You better mean it, Munson,” you said, voice light but edged with challenge. “You talked a real big game just now. Don’t pussy out on me later. I hate when guys talk shit they can’t back up.”

Eddie’s laugh cut off like someone had flipped a switch.

For a second he just looked at you- really looked- and something in his expression shifted. The hunger that had already been there sharpened into something hotter, darker. His pupils blew wider. His hand on your knee tightened, fingers flexing once like he was physically holding himself back from doing something stupid in front of everyone. He liked that. The brattiness. You could see it in the way his jaw flexed, in the slow, dangerous little smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth before he schooled it back into something cocky.

He didn’t say anything about it out loud. Just let the moment hang there, thick and electric between you.

Steve was still muttering prayers under his breath. Robin had her face buried in her hands, peeking through her fingers like she was watching a horror movie she couldn’t look away from. Nancy looked equal parts scandalized and fascinated. Jonathan just raised his eyebrows and took a very long, very deliberate sip of his beer like he was pretending he wasn’t there.

Eddie finally dragged his gaze away from you long enough to glance at Steve, still grinning like the devil himself.

“Relax, Harrington. I’m a gentleman. Sometimes.” He gave your knee one last slow squeeze before finally- finally- pulling his hand back. But he didn’t go far. Instead he dropped down onto the grass right beside your chair, close enough that his shoulder pressed against your leg, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him through his jacket. He leaned back on his hands like he had no intention of moving for the rest of the night.

The group, blessedly, took the hint and started bullshitting again- Robin launching into a rant about some customer at the video store who tried to return a tape with peanut butter on it, Steve jumping in with his own horror stories, Nancy adding dry commentary that made everyone laugh. It was easy, familiar noise. The kind that usually filled nights like this.

But Eddie stayed exactly where he was.

Close.

His shoulder stayed pressed to your leg. Every so often his hand would drift back- casual, like it belonged there- resting on your calf, or brushing against your ankle when he gestured while talking to the group. When the conversation got loud he’d lean in a little, voice dropping just for you.

“You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh?” he murmured at one point, low enough that only you could hear, the words curling warm against your ear. “Good. I like that.”

Later, when Robin was mid-story and everyone else was distracted, he tilted his head back against your chair and looked up at you through his lashes, voice even quieter.

“Still thinking about what you said. The way you said it.” His fingers traced one slow line along the seam of your jeans, barely there. “Bratty looks good on you. Real good.”

You knew it.

He didn’t push it further. Didn’t drag you off into the house or make good on any of the filthy promises from earlier. Not yet. But he stayed glued to your side for the rest of the night- laughing at the group’s bullshit, throwing in his own dramatic commentary, passing the joint when it came around again. Every time someone wasn’t looking his hand would find its way back to you. A thumb stroking slow circles on your knee. Fingers hooking lightly around your ankle. Once, when the laughter got loud, he turned his head and pressed his mouth to the side of your thigh through your jeans- just a quick, hot press of lips and teeth that no one else saw.

The night kept spinning around you in a haze of smoke and laughter and string lights.

But Eddie Munson didn’t move from your side.

And every time you glanced down at him, he was already looking back- dark eyes full of heat and something dangerously close to a total loss of control.

The house had gone quiet.

Everyone drifted off one by one- Steve muttering something about “no sex in my backyard” under his breath as he headed inside, Robin still giggling about the night’s chaos, Nancy and Jonathan disappearing into one of the guest rooms with quiet goodnights. You tried to sleep in the room Steve had given you, but your head was too loud, your body too wired from the weed, the tequila, and the way Eddie had stayed glued to your side all night.

So you slipped outside again.

The backyard was cooler now, the string lights still glowing faintly. You lit a cigarette and leaned against the side of the house, letting the first drag burn slow in your lungs.

Eddie was already out there.

He was sitting on the picnic table, boots on the bench, a cigarette of his own between his fingers. He looked up when the door clicked shut, and the second your eyes met, the air changed.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stubbed out his cigarette, stood up, and crossed the space between you in a few long strides.

The kiss was immediate and rough.

His mouth crashed into yours like he’d been holding back for hours. One hand slid into your hair, gripping tight at the roots, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise as he walked you backward until your ass hit the edge of the picnic table. You gasped into his mouth and he took full advantage, tongue sliding deep, teeth catching your bottom lip. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t careful. It was exactly what the tension between you had been building toward all night.

When he finally pulled back, both of you breathing hard, he kept his forehead pressed to yours, voice low and ragged.

“You couldn’t sleep either?”

You shook your head.

His hands stayed on you- one still fisted in your hair, the other sliding under your shirt to grip bare skin at your waist.

“Do you know what you like?” he asked, voice rough. His thumb stroked once over your hipbone. “Be honest with me.”

You swallowed, pulse hammering. The bratty edge from earlier was still there, loosened by the night and the way he was looking at you like he wanted to ruin you.

“I think I like it rough.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened. A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth.

“Yeah?” He gave your hair a deliberate tug, just enough to tip your head back. “Good. ‘Cause I like you bratty. Mouthy. Makes it hotter when I get to shut you up.”

He kissed you again before you could answer- harder this time, rougher- and then he was lifting you onto the picnic table like you weighed nothing. The wood was cool under your thighs through your jeans. He stepped between your legs, hands already working your button and zipper open with impatient fingers.

“You gonna be good for me?” he murmured against your mouth, even as he shoved your jeans and underwear down your thighs in one rough motion. “Or you gonna keep running that mouth?”

You couldn’t help it. The brattiness slipped out easy.

“Depends. You gonna actually do something, or just talk about it all night like you did earlier?”

Eddie laughed- low, dark, delighted- and the sound went straight between your legs.

“There she is.”

He pushed you back until you were lying on the picnic table, the string lights blurring above you. Then he dropped to his knees on the grass between your spread thighs like he belonged there.

The first drag of his tongue was slow, deliberate, almost teasing. Then he groaned against you like he’d been starving for it, and everything got rougher. His hands gripped your thighs hard, fingers digging in as he held you open. He licked and sucked with focused intensity, tongue working your clit in tight, relentless circles before dipping lower. When you tried to squirm, he growled and pinned your hips down with one forearm across your stomach.

You couldn’t stay quiet. Couldn’t help the way your hips tried to rock against his mouth.

“Fuck- Eddieeee-”

He pulled back just enough to speak, voice wrecked and smug.

“Still mouthy. Good.” He nipped at the inside of your thigh, sharp enough to sting. “Keep talking, sweetheart. See what happens.”

Then he went back in- hungrier this time. Rougher. Two fingers pushing inside you without warning while his mouth stayed locked on your clit, sucking hard. The stretch burned in the best way. He curled his fingers just right, fucking you with them in time with the relentless drag of his tongue, and the picnic table creaked under you.

You reached down, fingers twisting into his hair, and tugged. Hard.

Eddie moaned against you like you’d given him a gift.

“Yeah,” he rasped between licks, voice muffled and filthy. “Pull it. Be as bratty as you want. I’ll just make you come harder for it.”

He didn’t let up. Didn’t slow down. He ate you like he had something to prove- tongue relentless, fingers rough and deep, the hand not inside you gripping your thigh so tight you knew you’d have marks tomorrow. Every time you got mouthy- every gasped “fuck you” or “is that all you got?”- he responded by being meaner with his mouth, rougher with his fingers, until your back was arching off the table and your thighs were shaking around his head.

The orgasm hit hard and sudden, ripping through you with a broken sound you couldn’t bite back. Eddie didn’t stop. He worked you through it, tongue gentler now but still moving, fingers slowing but not pulling out until your whole body went limp against the wood.

Only then did he lift his head.

His mouth was shiny, eyes blown black, curls messy from your hands. He looked wrecked and triumphant at the same time.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then leaned up to kiss you- slow and deep so you could taste yourself on his tongue.

“See?” he murmured against your lips, voice hoarse. “Told you I’d fix it.”

His hand was still between your legs, two fingers still buried inside you, lazily stroking like he wasn’t done yet.

“And we’re just getting started.”

Eddie didn’t give you much time to come down.

He stood up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then his hands were on your hips, flipping you over so your stomach pressed against the cool wood of the picnic table. The position was sudden, a little rough, exactly the way you’d told him you liked it. Your jeans were still around your thighs, keeping your legs close together as he kicked your feet a little wider.

“Stay just like that,” he muttered, voice wrecked.

You heard the clink of his belt, the sound of his zipper. Then the hot, heavy drag of his cock against your ass as he leaned over you, one hand braced on the table beside your head.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he breathed against your ear. He rubbed the head of his cock through your folds, teasing, not pushing in yet. “All this from my mouth? Or you been thinking about this since I had my hand on your knee earlier?”

You pushed back against him on instinct, trying to get him inside. He laughed softly and pulled his hips back.

“Uh-uh. Not yet.”

“Fuck you.”

“Trying sweetheart. But someone's impatient even though she just got what she wanted. Didn't she?”

“Need more.”

“Ah ah- don't be greedy.” He growled and your cunt clenched down in reaction. You had a taste and you needed everything.

He kept teasing- slow drags of his cock over your clit, the tip catching at your entrance before sliding away again. Every time you tried to rock back or get mouthy, he’d grip your hip harder and hold you still.

“Eddiee-”

“Yeah?” He sounded way too pleased with himself. “Something you want?”

You twisted enough to glare at him over your shoulder, still a little breathless. “Stop fucking around and put it in already.”

His laugh was low and dark. “There’s that mouth.” He finally notched the head at your entrance and pushed in slow, stretching you open inch by inch until his hips were flush against your ass. The groan he let out vibrated through both of you.

He started fucking you in long, deep strokes- rough enough that the picnic table scraped against the grass and the edge bit into your waist with every thrust. One hand stayed on your hip, the other sliding up your back to fist in your hair, pulling just enough to arch your spine.

It felt good. Too fucking good. You were still sensitive from his mouth, and every drag of his cock hit exactly right. Your breathing got ragged fast.

Eddie noticed.

He slowed down immediately, hips rolling in these deep, grinding circles instead of the hard pace from before. “Not yet,” he said, voice tight like he was holding himself back too. “You don’t get to come until I say.”

You made a frustrated sound and tried to push back harder. He tightened his grip in your hair and gave one sharp thrust that made your vision blur, then went right back to that slow, torturous grind.

“Eddie, come on- ”

“Beg nicer,” he teased, even as his voice cracked a little. “Or keep being a brat. I like both.”

He edged you like that for what felt like forever- fucking you hard and fast until you were right on the edge, then slowing down or pulling almost all the way out until the feeling faded. Every time you got close he’d laugh under his breath and call you a brat, and every time you snapped back at him he’d reward you with a few brutal thrusts that made your legs shake.

The last time he pulled you right to the edge and held you there, you were shaking, forehead pressed to the table, cursing him under your breath.

“Please,” you finally bit out, voice wrecked. “Fuck- please, Eddie- ”

“Yeah,” he groaned, like the word broke something in him. “That’s it.”

He fucked you hard after that- fast, rough, the hand in your hair pulling tight as his other hand slid around to rub tight circles over your clit. You came with a broken sound, whole body locking up. Your vision whited out and your ears were ringing.

And then you were squirting- sudden, hot, and completely unexpected. It splashed against his thighs and the front of his jeans, your cunt pulsing hard around him as the orgasm ripped through you.

Eddie made a shocked, punched-out noise behind you, hips stuttering.

“Fuckin’- holy shit- Jesus Christ-”

You were still coming, still gushing with his fingers locked on to your overstimulated clit. The sound he made was half groan, half stunned laugh. He kept fucking you through it, short and desperate, until he pulled out at the last second and came across your lower back with a low, broken curse.

For a second neither of you moved. Just the sound of both of you breathing hard in the quiet backyard.

Then Eddie let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh.

“Did you just-?”

You twisted enough to look back at him, equally stunned, face hot. “I- I didn’t know I could do that.”

He was staring at the mess on his jeans and your thighs like he’d witnessed a miracle. Then he started laughing harder, the sound bright and a little wild. You couldn’t help it- you started laughing too, the two of you cracked up and messy and still half-dressed against the picnic table in Steve Harrington’s backyard at god-knows-what hour.

Eddie leaned down and kissed the back of your shoulder, still grinning against your skin.

“Jesus Christ. We’re doing that again. Like… soon. A lot.”

You were both still giggling as he helped you up, using his shirt to clean you both up as best he could. Your legs were shaky. His hands were gentle now, the roughness from earlier softened into something careful as he pulled your jeans back up and tucked himself away.

“Come on,” he murmured, still smiling. “Before Harrington comes out here and actually murders us.”

You snuck back inside quietly, shoes in hand. Most of the lights were off. Eddie didn’t even pretend to go to a different room. He followed you into the guest room Steve had given you, shut the door behind him, and pulled you straight into the bed with him.

The sheets were cool. His body was warm. He kicked his jeans the rest of the way off and tugged you against his chest, one arm slung heavy around your waist. His rings were cool against your skin where his hand rested under your shirt.

Neither of you said much. Just quiet breathing, the occasional soft laugh when one of you remembered the picnic table, and Eddie pressing lazy kisses to the top of your head.

You fell asleep like that- tangled up in him, still tasting him on your tongue, the faint ache between your legs a reminder of exactly how thoroughly he’d kept his word.

The morning light was already leaking through the curtains when you woke up. Eddie was still half on top of you, one arm slung heavy across your waist, curls a complete disaster against the pillow. He made a low, sleepy noise when you tried to move, pulling you closer instead of letting you up.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled into your shoulder.

You stayed like that a little longer anyway.

Eventually the smell of coffee and something sweet pulled you both out of bed. You threw on yesterday’s clothes- Eddie stealing your hoodie since he really can't eat breakfast in a cum covered shirt-  and headed downstairs together.

Steve was in the kitchen in an apron that said “Kiss the Cook” like an asshole, flipping pancakes with the focus of a man on a mission. The rest of the group was already scattered around the table and island- Robin perched on the counter, Nancy nursing coffee, Jonathan quietly scrolling on his phone. They all looked up when you and Eddie walked in.

The staring started immediately.

Robin’s eyes narrowed. Nancy raised one eyebrow. Jonathan’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. Steve didn’t even turn around from the stove, but you could feel the judgment radiating off him.

Robin was the one who broke first.

“Okay, so… why is Eddie’s shirt literally just lying by the picnic table outside?” she asked, way too casually. “Like, full-on abandoned. We found it this morning. It was just… there.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed- short and bright and a little guilty. Eddie muttered “Hope you didn't touch it.” under his breath, low enough that only you could hear it.

Steve finally turned around, spatula in hand, and gave you both the most exhausted dad look imaginable.

“I heard you last night,” he said flatly. “Both of you. Through the window. My window. The one that faces the backyard.”

You groaned and dropped your face into your hands.

Eddie, the traitor, just grinned and stole a piece of bacon off the plate Steve had already started stacking.

Robin pointed at you with her coffee mug. “So wait. Does this mean the game from last night is officially over? Like… mission accomplished?”

Nancy actually looked a little proud. “Glad your little problem is fixed.”

Jonathan just nodded once, quiet but sincere. “Good for you.”

Steve flipped another pancake with unnecessary force. “I’m not saying I’m happy about the volume, but… yeah. Congrats on finally coming during sex. Truly. We were all rooting for you.”

Robin raised her mug like she was toasting. “To finally getting to finish during sex!”

Eddie slung an arm around your shoulders, smug as hell, and pressed a loud kiss to the side of your head.

“See?” he said, way too pleased with himself. “Told you I’d fix it.”

You elbowed him in the ribs, but you were smiling anyway.

Steve just sighed and started plating pancakes.

“Sit down and eat before I change my mind about feeding any of you.”

♡ Eddie Munson would eat this shit up like it was made for him.

♡ He’d throw the shot back a in a wild, theatrical way, head tipped back and pretending the alcohol actually burned on the way down. That manic grin already splitting his face.

♡ The water would hit right after, cold and sudden, splashing across his face and dripping down his neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt until it clung to his skin. He'd blink and brace himself for the oncoming slap. He'd been slapped before but never by a girl- never by you.

♡ The second your hand cracked across his cheek- hard, open-palmed, the sting blooming white hot and immediate- something filthy and dangerous would ignite low in his gut.

♡ Eddie wouldn’t flinch away. He'd lean into it. A low, rough sound would tear out of him, half-laugh, half-groan, and his cock would make a heavy, unmistakable twitch in his tight jeans.

♡ He would lick the water from his lips slowly, tasting cheap whiskey, his eyes half-lidded and darker than they had any right to be in a crowded bar.

♡ He would want another one. Harder. He wanted to feel that sting again, maybe while you had your hand fisted in his hair, maybe while he was buried balls-deep in you and growling for you to hit him again, to mark him, to give him something to feel tomorrow.

♡ The metalhead in him would want to make a scene, to scream and laugh and turn it into a show- but the darker thing uncoiling in his chest wanted to drag you into the back alley, pin you against the brick, and see how you sounded when he gave you a matching slap… or when he let you slap him again while he fucked you rough and filthy until you both forgot your own names.

♡ Eddie would discover that this new kink is really going to get in the way of how he thinks about you from now on.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

♡ Steve Harrington would be the last person anyone expected to actually enjoy it.

♡He’d swagger up to the bar with that easy, practiced charm, all smooth hair and cocky little smirk, like this was just another Tuesday night and he was doing you a favor by playing along.

♡ He would knock the shot back clean, head tilted, cool as hell for all of two seconds.

♡ Then the water would hit. Cold. Sudden. It would splash across his face and dripped down his neck, soaking into his nice polo and dripping through the thatch of hair on his chest.

♡ His hands would twitch like he wanted to fix his hair on instinct, but before he could, your palm would crack across his cheek.

♡ The sting would bloom hot and sharp, and Steve Harrington- King Steve, Mr. Cool, the guy who always had a line- would let out a low, surprised sound that was way too close to a moan. His whole body jolts. Heat flooding low in his belly, sharp and electric, and he would feel his cock twitch hard in his jeans, thickening against the denim in a way that was impossible to ignore.

♡ The slap would have done something to him. Something he hadn’t seen coming. The sting mixed with the burn of the shot and the cold shock of the water, and suddenly all he could think about was how good it felt.

♡ It would make his pulse hammer and his skin feel too tight. It made him want to lean into it instead of pulling away.

♡ He'd blink, cheek still throbbing, water dripping from his jaw, and that signature Harrington smile curved slow and a little dazed across his face.

♡ But his eyes- fuck, his eyes would be darker, locked right on you behind the bar. He'd flirt before he could stop it, voice a little rougher than usual, still catching his breath.

♡ “Jesus… you always hit that hard, or am I just special?” He'd rub his cheek with the palm of his hand, savoring the sting. His gaze would drop to your mouth for a second before dragging back up, and he'd lean in over the bar, close enough that you could see the flush creeping up his neck.

♡ “If that’s the house special, I’m gonna need another round. Maybe two. And, uh…” He'd flash that crooked, charming grin, the one that usually got him whatever he wanted, even as his free hand subtly adjusted himself under the bar. “You got a break coming up? Or do I gotta keep letting you slap me ‘til you say yes to letting me take you out after your shift?”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

♡ Jonathan Byers would be the picture of wide-eyed, stoned-out-of-his-mind overwhelm.

♡ He wouldn't even really wanted to do it. Argyle would talk him into it with some rambling speech about “expanding his consciousness through wet chaos,” and Jonathan- already three bowls deep and floating somewhere soft and hazy- would just nod slowly and let himself be led to the bar.

♡ He would take the shot like it was medicine, slow and careful, eyes already glassy and a little unfocused.

♡ The second the water hit his face he'd blink, slow and deliberate, like his brain was buffering. Droplets would cling to his lashes and slide down his cheeks while he just… stared. Big brown eyes, red-rimmed and dilated, locked somewhere in the middle distance like he was trying to remember how his own face worked.

♡ Then your hand would connect with his cheek. The sound would crack through the bar asJonathan’s whole body jolts. His eyes would fly wide- huge, glassy, almost panicked in that soft, overwhelmed way he got when he was this high.

♡ A tiny, startled sound would slip out of him, half-gasp, half-whimper, and color would flood his face instantly.

♡ The sting would feel hot across his skin and, because he was stoned as hell, it felt like it traveled everywhere at once. His pulse would kick hard.

♡ For a long second he just would just stare at you, eyes still wide and swimming, water dripping from his chin onto the front of his shirt. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

♡ “…Whoa,” he'd manage, voice quiet and a little slurred, thick with surprise. His cheek was still pink from the slap, and he couldn’t seem to look away from your face even though every instinct was screaming at him to disappear into the floor.

♡ “That was… um. That was really loud. In my head. Like, inside.” He'd swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing, and his gaze dropping for half a second to your hand before flicking back up, shy and dazed. “Didn’t think it’d feel like that. The… the sting part.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

♡ Billy Hargrove would laugh like the slap was the funniest fucking thing he’d seen all week.

♡ He’d slam the shot back without hesitation, that cocky, shit-eating grin already plastered across his face like he owned the whole damn bar.

♡ The water would hit him square in the face and he'd barely flinch- just shook his head like a wet dog, blond curls flinging droplets everywhere.

♡ Then your hand would crack across his cheek, sharp and loud. Billy’s head would cock to the side… and he'd laugh. Deep, rough, genuine laughter that rumbled out of his chest as he turned back to face you, tongue swiping slowly over his bottom lip like he was tasting the sting.

♡ “Shit, sweetheart,” he'd drawl, voice low and rough with amusement, eyes already dragging down your body like he was undressing you on the spot. “You got a mean little hand on you. I like that.”

♡ He wouldn't even bother hiding the way the slap had affected him. His jeans are already tighter, the outline of his cock pressing against the denim as he leaned forward over the bar, invading your space with zero shame. “Most girls just bat their eyelashes. You? You try to knock my teeth out. That’s cute. Real fucking cute.”

♡ “Bet you fuck mean too. Or maybe you just like it rough. Either way…” He'd lick his teeth, still grinning like an asshole. “I’m free after close. You, me, the backseat of my Camaro. I’ll even let you slap me again if you ask nice.”

♡ You wouldn't ask nice. You would grab the bar gun and blast him with another full spray of cold water, right in the face and down the front of his open shirt.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

♡ Hopper would watch the whole thing from his usual spot at the end of the bar, arms crossed over his broad chest, a low, rough chuckle rumbling out of him every time one of the kids took their turn.

♡ Eddie would be making a goddamn production out of it. Steve was getting all flustered and trying to flirt his way out of the sting. Billy laughing like a lunatic and running his mouth. Even Jonathan, glassy-eyed and pink-cheeked, looked like he’d just been hit by a truck in slow motion. Hopper would shake his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, cigarette burning low between his fingers.

♡ “Jesus Christ,” he'd mutter to himself, amused. “Bunch of idiots.”

♡ Then one of those little shits had pushed the shot glass in front of him and said it was his turn.

♡ Hopper would raise an eyebrow but wouldn't argue. He'd knock the shot back in one smooth motion, the burn familiar and easy. The water would splash across his face and he'd barely react, just blinked once and wiped his jaw with the back of his hand like it was nothing. He was already half-smirking again, ready to tell everyone they were dramatic as hell-

♡ Then your hand would connect with his cheek. The crack was loud. Sharp. And it landed different.

♡ Hopper’s head turned with the force of it, but he wouldn't laugh. Wouldn't make a sound at first. The sting would spread hot across his face, spreading down his neck and straight into his chest like lightning. His breath would catch. For a second the whole bar seemed to go quiet in his head, the noise fading under the sudden, heavy throb of his pulse.

♡ Slowly, he'd turn his head back to look at you. His eyes darker than they’d been a second ago. Jaw tight. The smirk was gone, replaced by something heavier, more focused. He wouldn't rub his cheek. Wouldn't say anything clever. He'd just stare at you from under his brow, water still dripping from his stubble, chest rising and falling a little too controlled.

♡ “...Huh,” he'd finally rumble, voice low and rough, like gravel dragged over concrete. His gaze would drag over your face, then lower, lingering on your mouth before coming back up. “That one felt different.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

♡ Robin Buckley would be a disaster from the second Steve and Eddie started daring her.

♡ “Bet you won’t,” Steve had grinned, nudging her with his elbow while Eddie cackled behind him, already half drunk and egging her on like the chaos junkie he was. “Come on, Buckley. One little shot. One little slap. What’s the worst that could happen?”

♡ She’d protested the entire way to the bar- rambling about how this was probably some kind of toxic masculinity ritual, how she didn’t need to prove anything, how her face was too delicate for this nonsense- but somehow she still ended up standing in front of you with a shot glass in her hand and two idiots cheering behind her like this was the Super Bowl.

♡ “Okay, fine, whatever, let’s just get this over with before I change my mind and die of secondhand embarrassment,” she'd mutter, mostly to herself. She'd throw the shot back too fast, grimacing at the burn, then braced herself.

♡ The water hit and she squawked- actually squawked- hands flying up like she could block it after the fact. “Cold! Why is it always cold?! That’s just cruel, that’s-”

♡ Your hand cracked across her cheek before she could finish.

♡ Robin’s eyes would go huge. Her whole body would jolt like she’d been electrocuted. The sting would bloom sharp and hot across her face and, because she was already flustered and running on pure adrenaline and whatever liquor she just shot back it went straight through her in a way that made her stomach flip and her thighs press together before she could stop it.

♡ Her face burned- partly from the slap, partly from the way her body had reacted to it, and partly because she was now staring at you like a deer caught in headlights while her brain short-circuited.

♡ “Oh my god,” she'd blurt, voice way too loud. “Okay. That was- wow. That was a lot. Like, a lot a lot. My face is on fire and I think my soul just left my body for a second and- did you see that? Did everyone see that?”

♡ She would ramble, hands gesturing wildly, still half-dazed from the sting and the water dripping down her neck. Her cheek throbbed and every pulse of it sent another confusing little spark low in her belly that she was absolutely not going to examine right now. Especially not while you were standing right there looking at her like that.

♡ She 'd finally manage to meet your eyes again, cheeks flushed bright pink, glasses slightly askew. “I- uh. Hi. Sorry. That was… you have really good aim. Not that I’m, like, complimenting the slap or anything, because that would be weird, right? That would be super weird. I’m not into that. I mean- not that there’s anything wrong with being into that! People are into all kinds of things! I’m just- I’m gonna stop talking now.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

♡ Nancy Wheeler wouldn't just do the shot. She would watch the others go through it with that sharp, analytical look she got when she was already three steps ahead of everyone else.

♡ Eddie turned it into performance art. Steve got all flustered and horny about it. Billy was a dick. Robin spiraled into a six-minute ramble. Jonathan still looked dazed and pink-cheeked from whatever the hell had just happened to him. Nancy would take it all in like she was collecting data.

♡ Then she'd turn to you behind the bar, calm as anything, and flip the entire game on its head. “Can I do it to him instead?” she'd ask, nodding toward Jonathan like this was the most reasonable request in the world. Her voice was steady, almost polite, but there was steel underneath it. “The slap. I want to be the one who does it.”

♡ You wouldn't say no. Jonathan’s eyes would go wide all over again- still glassy from being stoned, still riding the high of his own turn- but he wouldn't have time to protest before Nancy was already moving.

♡ She'd take the shot herself first, quick and clean, barely reacting to the burn. The water would splash across her face and she wouldn't even flinch, just blinked once and pushed her wet hair out of her eyes with clinical precision.

♡ Then she'd turned to Jonathan. He'd barely had time to say her name before her hand cracked across his face- hard. Really fucking hard. The sound would split through the bar louder than anyone else’s had, sharp and final. Jonathan’s head would snap to the side with a stunned noise, eyes flying even wider, one hand coming up to his cheek on pure instinct.

♡ The sting would be brutal. His already flushed face would go darker, and he'd swayed a little on the stool, clearly feeling every bit of it through the haze of whatever he’d smoked.

♡ Nancy wouldn't pull back right away. She'd stood there with her hand still raised for half a second, breathing steady, eyes locked on him with that intense, unblinking focus she got when she was in control of something. A small, satisfied flicker would pass across her face- there and gone so fast most people would’ve missed it. But it was there. The tiniest curl at the corner of her mouth. Like she’d needed that. Like she’d been waiting for the excuse.

♡ “Better,” she'd say quietly, almost to herself. Then she'd looked back at you, cool and composed again, like she hadn’t just slapped the shit out of her ex in the middle of a bar. “Thank you. That was… clarifying.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

♡ Argyle would be the one person who managed to break the entire game without even trying.

♡ He'd wander up to the bar when the others started daring him, all loose limbs and easy smiles, already somewhere in the clouds.

♡ “Aight, bet,” he'd say with that slow, California drawl, like this was just another Tuesday activity. He'd take the shot without any fanfare, just tipped it back and let out a soft “whoa” at the burn, nodding to himself like he was tasting fine wine instead of bottom-shelf whatever.

♡ Then the water would hit. It'd splash across his face and he'd immediately start laughing- that low, warm, rolling laugh that came from somewhere deep in his chest. He'd shake his head like a dog, waves flinging water in every direction, and when he'd finally looked up at you his whole face was dripping. Big brown eyes wide and shiny, water clinging to his lashes, a few drops sliding down his cheek and onto the front of his Hawaiian shirt. His mouth would still be curved in this soft, genuine smile, like getting blasted in the face was the funniest and most wholesome thing that had happened to him all week.

♡ He'd look like a wet puppy. A big, harmless, stoned off his face wet puppy who had no idea why anyone would ever be mean to him.

♡ Your hand would already be halfway raised for the slap. It just… stayed there. You wouldn't do it.

♡ Argyle would blink at you through the water still dripping off his face, completely oblivious to the internal crisis he’d just caused. The bar noise would fade for a second as you stared at him- this tall, gentle stoner with the softest eyes and the most unfairly adorable post-water expression you’d ever seen. Your palm would itch with the muscle memory of every other slap you’d given tonight, but looking at him like this? It felt wrong. Cruel, even.

♡ He'd tilt his head a little, still smiling, water running down his jaw. “…You good, dude?” he'd ask, voice low and easy, like he genuinely cared about the answer. “Your hand’s kinda just chillin’ up there. It’s cool if you don’t wanna, y’know. No pressure. That water already felt like a whole spiritual reset anyway.”

♡ He'd just stood there looking at you with those big, damp eyes and that little half smile, like whatever you decided was perfectly fine with him. The slap never came. You lowered your hand without even realizing you’d done it.

♡ Argyle’s smile would widen just a fraction, soft and grateful. “See? Told you it was all good,” he'd say, already starting to back away like the whole thing had been a nice little moment between friends instead of a failed bar ritual. “You got a kind soul, man. I can tell. Most people woulda smacked me anyway. You didn’t. That’s… that’s really nice.”

♡ He'd give you one last easy nod, water still dripping from his hair, before he drifted back toward the group like nothing had happened-like you hadn’t just been completely disarmed by a six-foot stoner who looked like a sad golden retriever after a bath.

♡ You'd stand there for a second, hand still tingling with the slap you never gave, wondering how the hell Argyle had managed to win the game without even playing it.