What's He Like?

what's he like?

pairing — stepbrother!eddie munson x stepsister!(f)reader

warnings — (18+) this is a soft dark fic with taboo themes. eddie is manipulative and coercive, gonna tag it as dubcon just in case, stepcest smut- fingering, dirty talk, public sex, eddies mean, innocence kink, dacryphilia, grinding (?) i never know how to tag it, eddie uses the readers panties to make her feel good,

word count — 3.2k (accidently double what I was going for)

a’s notes — i’m a pervert. oh and I like the shining !

Eddie Munson isn’t a good guy. He knew it was wrong, but he’s sick and twisted and so very perverted that he’ll sink into those sinful waters with stones tied to his feet if it means he gets to stay. 

An almost sister, far apart enough to break no laws and close enough that it was clearly wrong. Borderline criminal, wholly illicit. But Eddie wasn’t one to deny himself much, not when the world made it so easy; you practically fell into his lap, how was he supposed to ignore the opportunities? 

The infatuation to begin with was immoral but with Eddie’s reputation as the town ‘freak’, he thought what’s another notch on that continuous bedpost? He’ll be the drug dealer, he’ll play the weirdo, he’ll sing of satanic worship and whatever people think he’s capable of and behind closed doors he’ll treat himself to a delicacy so much worse. He’s told time and time again that he is the villain? Fine, he’ll be the villain. 

It’s ironic that you see him as the opposite. 

Family has never meant much to you. The word or the people. The people hardly stuck around and in the end, it became just you and your mother and that was doomed from the start. Your relationship with her was never great and after you both started working jobs to help pay for the roof over your heads it just deteriorated quicker. 

So it was out of the blue when you found out your mum had met someone and you were about to move in with them. She met the guy at her work and they had hit it off immediately, all of that love at first sight stuff that you adored. You had forever read about epic romances and world-shattering love so the idea that your mother, who you may not have been close with, was getting that sounded perfect. Your chance for the family that you dreamt of but never allowed yourself to look at in the harsh light of consciousness. 

Wayne was a nice man. You had no faults. He made your mother happy which was his strongest defender and he was kind, his dry humour made you giggle- when you understood- and he was a gentleman. You would have never expected it from the rumours about his relatives but after spending some time with him, you felt he was the perfect fit for your mum, and for the imaginary idea of your future. 

The rumours in Hawkins spread quicker than fire. At school, you kept your head down, or in a classic, and tried to be kind and polite whilst saying few words, so whatever was the big gossip of the week you never really cared about. 

It’s why you didn’t have any hesitations about Eddie. Sure the stories and list of offences against him were vicious but every time you looked up, if he caught your eye, he was stepping out of the way so girls could pass and hugging his friends with that adorable dimpled smile of his. The rumours never held any weight. None of it could be proven before you had met him and decided which truth to follow. And fortunately for both of you, Eddie seemed like an angel. 

It had been just over a month and your fantasy family was dripping into reality. More like pouring, every time you spent more time together it felt like everything would begin to sparkle as you’d read about. It made you fuzzy that you and your step-brother were the closest. Something in you just gravitated towards him and you were always received with welcome arms. Anyone could see that you adored him. To you, he was the strong male character in your life. He’d protected you, looked after you and doted on your constantly. For the first time in your life, you felt special. 

Eddie was your Prince Charming. To you, it was as simple as that. 

And there was no doubt on earth that you were his Princess. Eddie had no shame in flaunting that title around and taking great advantage of its powers. 

For example, using it as a knife to cut down any notions of boyfriends; 

“Princess he’s not good for you, he’s just going to fuck you and leave. You don’t want that do you?” a big hand cradling your teary face, he’s rock hard from looking at your wet lips and matching eyes. 

You shake your head dumbly, “N-No but Eds he said he really likes me.” You sniffled into his arms, feeling the pull to be closer to him more than usual. In such close proximity like this, it’s like you want to be permanently attached to him. Feeling an overwhelming desire to be touching him. 

“Trust me. You’re my princess and I only ever want what’s best for you.” you nod and wrap your arms around his lean torso. 

“Say that you believe me. Say you trust me.” 

Your voice doesn’t shake when you answer him. 

He also uses it as a lasso every time he wants something extra. Reeling you back in as you trail after the name. Utterly and unknowingly addicted to the way the syllables fall from his lips, the way those lips curve because he knows he’s in control. 

It was now Friday night, which had become the night Eddie’s group comes round and they always end up watching a movie. Sometimes you’re invited to stay but tonight you saw that they were watching The Shining and determined to opt for the comfort of your bed. Eddie understood, he’d cuddled you after enough nightmares to know it wouldn’t be for you. 

Which is why he’s so surprised to see you in the doorway. Lit mutely by the TV screen, rubbing your eyes in your little pj’s. The items that haunt his dreams. A thin white baby tee that thins every day by the way he swears your nipples get more noticeable each day, maybe it’s the impure thoughts but who’s to tell, and pink, practically panties you conveniently call shorts. They’re not that short. Eddie just can’t help but notice his hand is just the right size too big to slide under those shorts, or over, or rip them in two through. 

Shattered out of those recurring thoughts, Eddie looks up to you who is already looking at him. “Hi, Princess.” he smiles, becoming you closer with an outstretched arm. 

Your fingertips immediately graze his and work their way up his arm, not before getting distracted by his rings. “Hi, Eds.”

“You okay?”

You nod, staring down at your fingers tracing his tattoos. He’s watching your face, trying to figure out what you want, “Jus’ wanted to see you s’all.” he should’ve guessed. Before Eddie you had never been a contact comfort person, never had anyone to go to when you just need a hug. It was hardly a surprise when everything fell into place and Eddie became that person.

Eddie was your person.

“C’mere.” a simple command that has you rushing over to him. You completely forget everyone else in the room. Letting Eddie’s actions wash over you as he leads you to sit astride his legs, sinking into his back and the arm of the sofa. Watching with heavy eyes as he gets a blanket and throws it over the both of you and completes it all by wrapping his arms around your middle and tugging you into him. 

And then you look up. Eyelids barely focusing but making out the poorly concealed shock on one of the boys’ face. It’s almost movie-like when you watch as the guy beside him leans over and whispers something in his ear. The audience can just about make out a “they’re just close-” or something along those lines. It placates you. Just as the look Eddie is throwing them over your head would, staring at them with a gaze that puts them in their place; they don’t speak about you. 

Your hands are both sitting on his chest, fiddling with the fabric of his black sweater, breathing in the smell that is just Eddie. 

Eddie’s eyes are on the screen. Watching the flickering characters, the action the suspense and the only thing he’s aware of are your fingers pushing into the plush of his clothes and your ass tantalisingly close to his crotch. He would have been able to control himself, after all he’s not alone but when you start to shift and move, he hardly manages to conceal the groan pushing at his vocal cords. You don’t notice because you never notice, blissfully cluelessness of the effect you have on him; and too many other sleazy guys that had tried and failed to pursue you. 

But Eddie never claimed to be a good guy. So what was a little indulgence?

When the sensation of his hand moving on your leg catches your attention it’s because it keeps moving. Usually, he just draws patterns on your skin but this time the patterns extend. Instead of twisting back on themselves they keep going, up from your ankle blooming dangerously close to your inner thigh when they rest on the crease between your thigh and torso. And then he squeezes. 

The squeak that leaves you is surprised and loud enough for Eddie to hear you, immediately grinning and fighting to keep his eyes from rolling. You hope in vain that he didn’t hear but when he squeezes again you know he did. 

A chaste kiss is pressed into your hair before his lips dip, “Can you be quiet for me?” his fingers start to move again, dipping lightly into the insides of your thighs and then moving back. You look up at him with wide eyes, questioning him- what he was doing, what this was. “I need you to keep quiet. Because I’m gonna touch you and I want it to be our secret ‘kay?” 

His stare leaves no room for consideration and usually, that would work, but when his long fingers start trailing over the cotton underwear you have on, your brows furrow, “Eddie, this is- we can’t.” something in you knows its wrong and you use that to try and scrape away the sick pleasure you’re already receiving. 

On the screen there’s blood on the walls and enough violence to make you cry so when you turn to look at the noise, Eddie’s large palm is there sweeping your vision back to him. And maybe it affects your judgement, because the action reminds you: Eddie is always protecting you, he knows what’s best, at least that’s what he’s always said. He’s done nothing to contradict that. When you do see him it softens you further. His eyes are like black holes, a pixel of the TV screen in them. It’s unsurprising when you get swallowed up by them, rendering into nothing beneath his gaze. 

He smiles, his hand has found home on your face again and his thumb sweeps under your eyes, and then his gaze melts into something darker. Like ink to oil, he says, “Princess. I know you’re not saying no to me.” 

And he’s right. 

Because then his fingers graze the sodden fabric and you’re caught red-handed. You want to cry, you want to hide, and he lets you for a moment. You want to get away but you’re nestling into his body confusing your mind further. You don’t know what you want. But Eddie does. 

“I know little one, I know.” he shushes you, appearing the comforting big brother as he strokes your hair and looks uninterested. All the while his fingers have explored to the band of your panties. They finger the little bow on them, he smiles to himself because it’s just so you. He takes ahold of the elastic band and you twist the fabric in your hand in confusion. 

You mumble something under your breath and Eddie doesn’t even feign attention, he carries on playing with you. With a harsh grip on the front of your panties, Eddie pulls them up towards you. The angle of the fabric means it’s rubbing directly on your clit, pulling everything tight, making you throb. Eddie watches what he can see; your little hands scratching him through his sweater and the way you curl in towards him, legs drawing up and thighs tensing around his hand. He knows how inexperienced you are, he has a list of everything he wants to teach you. This being one of them. 

Perhaps he should have waited longer, maybe this wasn’t the right time, but all of a sudden he feels your smaller hand encompassing his wrist, keeping him there. At the gesture he smiles, hiding it in your hair and kissing your head softly, because Eddie really does care for you; but he’s going to treat you like he doesn’t. 

That’s what he does for a while, manipulating the fabric to make you whimper. It’s causing you to drip. You can feel your button throbbing against the mean material and you wish it didn’t feel good. It shouldn’t feel good. It’s weird and it’s worse that it’s Eddie doing it; your step-brother. None of this is right, but you don’t release his hand, you can stop from clenching around nothing. You feel entirely powerless, the only thing you can do is try and turn your mind off and pretend the two of you are alone. 

But of course, the world has a cruel sense of humour. 

“Hey, Eddie, is she okay?” one of Eddie’s friends, his name the furthest thing from your mind given your current state, leans towards the pair of you to share his concern. He nods his head in your direction and there’s a questioning glint in his eyes as he looks at your brother. 

From his perspective it looks like you’re crying, your chest moving with added weight and your head has hardly left Eddie’s chest. A hand comes down to stroke your hair, the other concealed by the blanket still moves, and you feel Eddie’s sternum rise to reply. 

He drops his voice, playing into his part, “Oh yeah, she’s all good, jus’ had a nightmare.” he nods as his friend releases the subject. Returning his focus to the screen. 

Eddie should have stopped. But deep down, or not that far, neither of you wanted him to. Deft fingers crawl from their original place, smoothing down the fabric to cup you through it. His fingers move as he traces the outline of your lips, your clit, even going as far to prod at your hole over the top of the fabric. 

It makes you whine his name, he’s playing with you and it’s mean. You won’t ever tell him to stop, especially not when he’s rubbing over the fabric. But you lie nonetheless. 

Lifting your lips closer to his ear, “Eds, we shouldn’t. I don’t wanna get in trouble.” it’s pathetic and you both know it. 

Your hand is hardly pushing him away. His wrist is enveloped in your soft fingers, that just rest on the skin as if just to hold him, to feel him. You try to catch his eye but he’s already shaking his head. His tongue wets his lips as they curve into that smirk again that makes you feel damned. 

He breathes and thinks he’s going to be nice. There is a multitude of sins circling his hazy brain that would be much worse than what he’s going to do to you. It’s not like he doesn’t know he needs to be careful with you. You’re gentle and delicate and as much as he wants to split you open and make you scream on his cock, he won’t just yet. He needs to ease you into it. Thankfully you’re already halfway there. 

“And yet,” he starts, his voice is haunting and dark, disarming you completely with a tone you’ve never heard before, “you’re soaking through your panties, little one.” and it makes you want to cry, the whole situation, his condescending words, everything because he’s right. 

The fabric is ruined with your arousal and when Eddie lifts it to the side it pulls away with slick strings. He huffs a laugh at your broken face, tears welling up already and he’s hardly touched you. Ever since he saw you he knew you’d be heaven to break. 

Eddie dips a finger into the pool of arousal he’s summoned. Coating his digits in before breaching your hole. He’s slow at first but then he gets greedy and he lets himself off the hook because his last line of defence will always be: he wants to be worse. It takes you by surprise when you feel his finger thrust quickly into you, leaving no time in curling the digit until it searches for that special spot that even you haven’t discovered. You both know when he does; a high-pitched squeal leaves your bitten lips at the sensation, immediately pushing your face into his sweater to smother any other humiliating noises. 

Eddie shakes off his friends’ concerned looks and thankfully they don’t pry. Your face feels on fire and you submit to the torture as Eddie strokes and rubs at that spot. The blanket helps to smother the noises. You can hear them minutely, it’s overwhelming, the wet sopping noises coming from your cunt and Eddie’s fingers which are by now soaked in your desperation. 

He revels in it. The way your moans drown into his body, the hiccups he knows soon will turn in to sobs, you react so beautifully and he can’t help but feel it was meant to be. In a perverted way he thinks this is right, what he should be doing. And even if he knows perhaps morally its not, you clenching around his finger rhythmically is enough persuasion to carry on. 

Before long he’s sliding in another finger. Your eyes clench at the intrusion, not because its painful but because of how easy it went in. The whole thing is humiliating and you’re closer than ever. 

Jack Nicholson has an axe on screen, stepping up the stairs to the beat of Eddie’s thumb, which is now circling your clit. The two fingers inside you pump as the screen flashes. The man above you, inside of you, speeds up with every sharp camera turn. It’s getting increasingly harder to hold in your noises and Eddie can sense that. 

He does it unthinkingly and its ironic that thats the thing to break you. Something incidental. His hand leaves its place on your head and his thumb mindlessly slots into your mouth, muffling your pathetic noises. When he brings his hand up to keep it in there, it becomes the triggering sensation. 

Now Eddie is struggling to stay silent. At first he focuses on the way your cunt grips his fingers. Your clit pulsating under his thumb. Making it impossible to pull them out until your orgasm ceases. But then he feels something wet on his neck. And he realises that you’re fucking crying. 

He desperatly claws at breathing slowly and focusing his gaze on the screen, trying to figure out whats happening in the movie. But its futile. Nothing can take his mind away from the fact that you came so hard you’re mewling into his neck, wet little hole crying for him too, and it’s you. 

Once your orgasm slows its attack on your body you lay limp in his arms. Exhausted and high, you stay like that until the movie ends. 

You both know it was wrong. That it shouldn’t happen again, and you were going to try to do the right thing. But Eddie, well, 

Eddie Munson was a bad guy.

a’s notes — please reblog i beg of you WITH TAGS

kofi <3