summary: Your shitty boyfriend's left you stranded. Again. This time, at the recording studio where his band has been working on their new song. It's fine though, because Eddie has something you can help him with.
content: 18+ mdni!!!!, rockstar!eddie au, no use of y/n, CHEATING—r is cheating on her shitty bf (plz don't do this irl; don't like don't read), porn w/o plot really, afab genitalia r (pinv), spit kink, exhibitionism (audio recording sex to sample in a song), eating it from the back but like over the back of a couch AKA oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), kinda condescension, pet names (sweet girl, baby, sweetheart, etc.), pussy pronouns, missionary on a couch, dirty talk
note: loosely inspired by that part of guns ‘n roses’ “rocket queen.” on that same note, title is from "rocket queen." edited at 2AM with stale eyes so sorry for any typos/grammatical errors :*)
word count: 6,874
It was close to midnight when you came to the startling realization that Jax was not coming back to get you.
You replayed Jax’s parting words. “Baby, it’s–it’s my sister. She, uh, needs a ride. Went out drinking tonight, you know how that is.” He was already halfway out the door of the studio.
“Oh, okay, let me just grab my—” You sat up quickly when suddenly he appeared in front of you, ushering you back onto the couch.
“Oh, no, no. She’s, like, got her friends with her, so there won’t be any room, but I’ll come back and get you, okay?” He guided you back to the couch with a kiss on your forehead.
“Oh…well, could you just drop me off at home first?” You didn’t really have a purpose for being in the studio without your boyfriend there.
He grimaced like it pained him to even say it. “I mean, I would, but I really need to—” He jutted a thumb to the door. “Don’t wanna keep her waiting, y’know?”
You didn’t know. “I can’t just stay here, Jaxon—”
“The guys are here, it’s fine. I’ll be back in an hour tops!” He didn’t give you any time to react before disappearing out into the night.
Slowly, Gareth and Jeff trickled from the studio, leaving only you and Eddie.
When you’d grown tired of just twiddling your thumbs, you finally called Jaxon’s sister, Suze. The phone rang for nearly a full minute before you heard, “...Hello?” She sounded groggy.
“Hey, Suze, just making sure you made it in.”
“Wh—Huh?”
“Jax told me about coming to pick you up, so I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”
“He told you what? Sorry, I’m still half asleep—I haven’t seen Jax today.”
You sighed. Honestly, you should’ve known.
You muttered off apologies to Suze—Sorry, I think I got mixed up, goodnight—before hanging the phone back on the hook so aggressively it rang out in the quiet studio.
Peeking through the glass into the booth, you watched Eddie, the frontman of the band, pick at his guitar. You couldn’t hear him, but you could tell by the papers crumpled up at his feet and the way he seemed to be singing softly to himself that the new song wasn’t coming along as smoothly as the band had been hoping for.
You heard Gareth and Jeff grumbling about the track as they left earlier. It seemed they were at a stalemate.
You flopped back onto the sofa, snatching the Rolling Stone magazine from the coffee table. Of course, it was Corroded Coffin’s 1989 issue. You had this exact issue in your apartment, sitting on your coffee table too, actually, but you couldn’t help but drink in the cover like it was the first time you’d seen it.
Eddie stood in the middle, looking down at the camera. His chest was bare, showing the expanse of his pale skin littered with black ink. His guitar rested against his lower half, partially blocking his pants, but the shine of the leather was still noticeable. His fingers, adorned with rings, of course, gripped the neck of the guitar. One eyebrow was quirked slightly beneath his bangs; his lips were parted gently. You could see his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek.
Jax, Jeff, and Gareth were around him, posed similarly, albeit more clothed—almost every rock band of the era was going for this look—but there was something about Eddie that kept drawing your eyes back to him. He oozed charisma and sex appeal, even through the glossy pages.
You guessed that was why he was the frontman.
You flicked through the magazine, attempting to read the stories but inevitably skimming through them. You’d just read it too many times.
Not long after, the door clicked open and Eddie emerged.
His hair was sticking up like he’d been running his fingers through it (he probably had been). Despite it being just a studio day with no planned public appearances, he still wore a studded belt and rings on nearly every finger.
He blinked at you, stuttering out your name. “I didn’t realize anyone was still here. Jax said you had to go pick up Susan—”
“He,” you corrected, flopping the magazine back atop the table. “He went to get Suze.” You put airquotes around the latter part of your statement. Jax’s behavior wasn’t exactly a secret, so what was the point in even pretending?
Eddie’s forehead wrinkled like he was holding back a wince. “Shit, I’m sorry—and he just what? Left you here?”
“Said he was coming back to get me, but I guess he got too lost in whatever groupie’s pussy—” You sighed, scrubbing your eye with a fist as heat rushed to your face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
He shot you a small smile. It was laced with something close to pity. “I mean you have every right to be mad, sweetheart; he—” He raised a ringed hand to scratch above his eyebrow. “Honestly, I thought you were done after the Layna incident.”
Layna was a well-known Corroded Coffin groupie. Around a year ago, she’d totally disappeared from the scene, then reappeared three months ago with a baby, claiming Jax was the father. Too bad Jax admitted to fucking her before the paternity test came back negative.
You don’t think you could ever forget the way his face fell when he heard the news—like he’d wanted to be the father. You’d left for around three weeks before coming back that time.
It wasn’t even that you still had feelings for Jax. It’d be impossible for that at this point. It was more so just routine, and sure, maybe it was selfish, but you enjoyed hanging around with the band.
Drinking and hanging out with Jeff’s girlfriend, Livie, at concerts; dinner with Gareth and his wife, Aleah, on Sundays. Sure, you could’ve still hung out with Livie and Aleah without being Jax’s girlfriend, but you wouldn’t have had an excuse to see Eddie anymore. It’d dwindle to only seeing him on paper or grainy television screens.
You couldn’t imagine he’d hang out with his bassist’s ex-girlfriend.
“Yeah. Me too, to be honest.” You sighed. “How’s the song coming? It sounded good earlier.”
Eddie sighed back, moving to plop next to you. He let his head fall back against the top of the couch, his eyes closed. “It’s, hah, I dunno.” He turned to look at you. “Missin’ something, I guess.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” You wrung your hands together in your lap, giving him a small smile.
Sitting on the couch like this, your faces were close. You forced yourself to keep your gaze on his nose and above—no glancing down any further.
But Eddie didn’t abide by this rule. His eyes darted down to your lips. He must’ve not meant to do it because he sat up, resting his elbows on his knees and successfully hiding his face from you. He cleared his throat.
“Why’re you looking at me like that?” he asked.
You raised your eyebrows, but before you could answer, he sighed, leaning back against the couch cushions again. “Sorry—I’m sorry. I dunno why I—” He ran a hand down his face. “I don’t know why I asked you that. ‘M being unfair.”
“It’s—You’re fine.” You tried to keep your voice steady despite the confusion that was rising within you.
“Can I ask you something?” He was looking at you again.
“Sure.”
“Why are you still with him?”
You blinked. You couldn’t pretend you hadn’t been asking yourself that same question.
“Guess I just got used to it. It’s my routine…” You shook your head. “Honestly, I don’t know. He treats me like shit. Left me to go ‘pick up his sister.’ I called her, and she hadn’t even talked to him. I mean, I already knew he was lying…Well, I figured he was. Still, it–it fucking sucks that he sucks.” You laughed a little, self-pityingly.
You sighed again. You mumbled, “Dick’s good, I guess.” An afterthought to yourself, really. You weren’t sure why you said it to Eddie Munson of all people. It wasn’t like it made you look any less pathetic—only made it worse, if anything. You dropped your head in shame the moment the words left your mouth.
Why would you bring up your sex life with your shitty boyfriend to his very attractive bandmate—
“Yeah right.”
Your head snapped up and over to Eddie. For a moment, you thought you might’ve imagined it. “Wh—huh?”
Eddie, who any other time was the opposite of nonchalant, was suddenly cool and composed. He shook his head as one shoulder rose. “Just find that hard to believe, ‘s all.”
You couldn’t stop yourself from retorting,“You some kind of sex expert or something?” Oh God, why did you say that, why did you say that, he’s going to think you’re a total freak—
“Maybe. Never heard that one before, but I haven’t heard any complaints either.”
Heat rose up your neck.
Haven’t heard any complaints.
Suddenly you were plagued with the images of the girls you’d seen leaving Corroded Coffin’s shared apartment. Girls with makeup smeared across their faces, their hair a mess—even then you’d known just sleeping didn’t make you look like that, but you’d forced the thought from your head.
“Know I’m better than your shithead boyfriend, that’s for sure.”
You couldn’t stop your brows from shooting high on your forehead. Eddie was talking about Jax like they weren’t bandmates—weren’t friends. Your thoughts must’ve been clear on your face because Eddie added, huffing out a laugh, “You ever see me get along with him?”
Your gut instinct was to say yes, but the more you mulled it over…had you?
You thought back to last week at the bar. Had you seen Jax and Eddie speak? You could only remember Eddie addressing you. Then, a few weeks earlier, at their apartment for dinner…again, only you.
Your face flushed. You’d been so caught up in your own interactions with Eddie, you hadn’t even noticed the tension between the two.
“I could be better than him.” Eddie was so close, you could see specks of gold in his eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip.
“What are you saying?” you asked, eyes trailing from the curve of his lips up to where his eyes seemed to be boring into you.
“I think you know what I’m saying.”
“Are you really playing games right—mmph—”
A flash of brown hair was the only warning you received before his lips met your own. Your eyes were wide and you were taken with how soft his lips were. Frozen, you couldn’t get your body to react.
Eddie was kissing you. He was kissing you, and it wasn’t weird. He was kissing you, and he tasted like cherry chapstick and tobacco.
He slowly pulled away, and you realized you hadn’t kissed him back—you’d just sat there, unmoving. His eyes darted away from you. “Oh Christ, I’m sorry I–I don’t know wh—mmph—”
You rushed forward, meeting his lips again. For a moment, like you had been, he was frozen in place, but he quickly relaxed into it. His hand met your hair, and you easily let his tongue into your mouth as his grip tightened on you.
You brought your own hands up to his chest as his hand shifted from your hair to your neck, tugging you closer to him. You moved together, the only sound in the empty room the slick clicks of your mouths.
Eddie pulled back, rubbing his nose against yours. “Can I ask you something?” His thumb was running up and down the side of your throat, and you worked hard to concentrate on what he was saying.
“Ye—” You cleared your throat. “Yeah.”
His eyes left yours. “Feel free to smack the shit out of me if you want—”
“I’m not gonna do that.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” He didn’t look convinced, so you added, “I’m not gonna hit you, okay? Just ask.”
“Well,” he started. “I had this idea for the record—”
Okay. Maybe you would smack the shit out of him. “Is now really the time for that?”
“Yeah, actually.” He glanced from you to the recording booth. “The record—What it’s missing—” He sighed before starting again. “I think you can help me.”
You leaned back in his grip to laugh. “Me? I can’t sing, let alone play an instrument. I can’t even play the triangle.”
“I think you can do the kinda singing I need.” His eyes darted down across your body, and it felt like they’d shot lasers at you.
“Wh—I’m not sure I know what you’re saying.”
“I don’t mean to make assumptions here, sweetheart, but if we, ahem, keep goin’...” He nodded his head as he spoke, clearly choosing his words carefully. “Could we move it to the booth?”
“You mean—” You blinked and gestured a finger at the both of you.
“Yes.” He quickly added, “But only if you want to.”
“But…everybody’ll hear me.”
“Nobody has to know it’s you. I won’t say anything.” A small smile peeked at his lips. “It can be our secret.”
Your secret. Your secret with Eddie. It made you giddy like a schoolgirl to think about. You could be on the song. More specifically, you and Eddie having sex could be on the song. You didn’t want to dwell on why that made your stomach flip and your neck hot.
Everyone who bought the record would hear you and Eddie. Even before that, the band would hear you and Eddie. The band, including Jaxon, would hear you and Eddie—
“Oh my god Jaxon.” Your stomach flipped again but this time, soured. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about Jaxon—He’ll hear and–and he’ll know—”
“I thought you said you didn’t know why you were still with him?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“This’ll show him he can’t get away with just treating you like this. He’s always blowing you off and treating you like shit. Somebody needs to show him what happens when you take a pretty girl—a good girl—who has always done right by you and you treat her like garbage.” Eddie’s chest was nearly heaving, and he looked down at himself slightly, like he wasn’t sure where all that had come from. “But—I mean—only if you want to. Of course.”
You swallowed. He had a point. I mean, where was Jaxon now? Definitely not with his sister, that was for sure. You thought back to the number of times he’d ditched you and were embarrassed to realize it was easily in the double digits just this month.
You frowned. When had you decided you were fine with being treated like a doormat? When had you decided that this was what you were worth—
Eddie must’ve interpreted your silence as rejection. “I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t trying to bash you or–or something. I just—You deserve better.” He took a deep breath. “You don’t have to do this with me. Or–Or you can, but we don’t have to—” He shot a thumb back towards the recording booth. “You can forget I asked. I can figure something out. It’s, uh, not a big deal.”
You wondered what ‘figuring something out’ looked like. Dropping the idea all together and trying something else for the record? Or asking someone else?
Your stomach rolled at the idea of Eddie asking another woman. You knew he wouldn’t have any issues doing so either. Part of you knew it was unfair to be jealous about it, but that didn’t matter.
You stood from the couch abruptly. You had made your mind up—honestly, you had made your mind up the moment he asked you.
“We can just forget this happened—” he started, but instead of moving towards the exit, you moved towards the door to the booth.
“Are you coming or what?” you asked, narrowly biting back a smirk.
You’d never seen him move so fast.
You tried to maintain your confidence, but something about Eddie melted it down to mush. “B-But is it—”
“It’s recording, sweetheart; don’t worry.”
You were both seated on a couch in the recording booth. You hadn’t ever thought of Eddie as muscular per se, but he’d pulled the couch from the studio into the booth effortlessly.
He cradled your neck as he planted kisses along your throat.
“Oh—Okay.” You were nodding, and you knew you should’ve been embarrassed at how desperate you were from just a few kisses.
Eddie sure didn’t seem to mind. His cool rings pressed against your neck as he pulled you closer to him. You braced yourself with both hands on his shoulders, quickly moving them to caress up and down his shoulders in an attempt to mask the fact you were truly gripping him for dear life.
Getting impatient at the attention your neck was getting, you grabbed his hand from your waist, moving it to your center. You felt his teeth as he smiled against you.
He pulled the button from your pants with one deft hand, and you bit back the jealousy that was stewing. How many women had he practiced on to get that just right? Not that you had any room to talk considering you had a boyfriend, albeit a shitty one, but—
You didn’t have time to overthink when Eddie immediately tucked your panties to the side to run agile fingers up and down your folds. You instantly noticed the calloused pads of his fingertips—that of a guitarist.
“Oh, sweetheart.” He leaned back to rub his nose along your cheekbone. “You get this wet for him, or is this just for me?”
For a moment, a stab of guilt ran up your spine, making you sit up straighter, but it quickly morphed to arousal when you felt the tip of his finger dip into you.
“Eddie, I—mmph—” He trailed his finger back up to dance around your clit, never quite giving you the pressure you needed.
“Yeah? Tell me something, baby.” He was still nosing across your face.
“D-Don’t wanna talk about him.”
“Hm, that’s right. You don’t need him when I’m here, huh?”
You shook your head shamelessly—the wetness between your legs had already given your desperation away.
Eddie smiled. “Sweet girl.”
You leaned into him at the nickname, making him chuckle.
Suddenly, he took a step back, pulling his hand from your pants, leaving you suddenly cold without the warm touch of his fingers.
Your lower lip jutted out into a pout, and he chuckled at you again. “I know. Here.” He tapped his fingers that had just been at your cunt across your lips. “Get ‘em wet for me, baby.”
You opened your mouth instinctively, wrapping your lips around the digits. Overcome with the desire to be good for him—to even remotely wreck him the way he already had you—you bobbed your head, taking his fingers down to the glittering silver along his knuckles.
He was watching you, his lips slightly parted as you gagged around his fingers. “Knew you’d have a sweet fuckin’ mouth.”
You gagged around him, the sound wet and humiliating, but you couldn’t be embarrassed—not when his mouth lolled open while he watched. You went to bob your head again, but he withdrew his fingers, leaving your mouth empty and waiting.
Without hesitation, he gripped your cheek, four digits on one side, his thumb on the other, as he pulled your mouth to his. He spread your saliva across your cheek with his fingers.
With your chest heaving, you could only peer at him through your lashes.
Eddie paused, drinking in your features. “Is–Is this okay?” He moved like he was going to retract his hand from your face.
You nodded eagerly, grabbing his hand to keep it there. You nuzzled your face towards his hand as best you could with his grip on you. “I—” Your face was warm, and you were starting to feel a little dizzy. “I like it dirty.”
For a split second, you couldn’t read his expression. But then, you noticed the sparkle in his eye. “Yeah? Sweet girl likes it dirty? I should’ve known.” He tilted your chin back. He planted a surprisingly chaste peck on your lips before murmuring, “Open your mouth.”
You blinked up at him, and God, all he could think about was painting your pretty fucking face with his load. Especially when your lips parted so obediently.
He didn’t hesitate to spit directly into your waiting mouth, not missing the way your thighs pressed together. He watched your throat bob as you swallowed his warm spit, shamelessly removing his wet hand from your face to adjust himself in his jeans.
“You like that, baby?”
You nodded, but that wasn’t enough. “Tell me,” he insisted.
“Yeah.” Your voice came out breathy and high. “Yeah, I like it, Eddie.”
“Fuck,” he practically groaned. “I need to see you.”
You didn’t need to hear anything else, instantly moving to pull your pants down, stumbling about in your attempts to be swift. You felt your face heat, but when you looked over at Eddie, he was too busy pulling his own belt from its loops and shucking his pants down to his ankles, just as desperate.
As if he felt you staring, he suddenly looked up. His hair was unruly against his forehead, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed deeply. His eyes darted from yours, and you could’ve sworn his cheeks were dusted pink, but it was hard to tell in the dim lighting.
You lifted your hips to finish pulling your bottoms over the swell of your ass, and Eddie quickly jumped into action. His jeans rustled as he kicked them off his legs. One foot got caught at the bottom, causing him to jump and flail until it flew onto the floor with a thump.
You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you.
Here was Eddie Munson—rock band frontman, guy you’d seen smash paparazzi cameras for getting too close—dancing around, trying to get his pants down his legs.
Somehow, he made it not dorky, though. Okay, maybe it was dorky, but he managed to make it charming.
“Whatcha laughing at?” He approached you again.
You would’ve thought Eddie was the type of guy to wear tight black briefs. In your head, he was in a perpetual state of chains and leather. But instead, he wore a pair of loose blue checkered boxers, clearly choosing comfort over his typical garb.
He put his hands against your pants at your knees, looking up at you from beneath his bangs. He raised his eyebrows at you. “Is this okay?” He suddenly sounded worlds smaller.
You nodded incessantly, helping him tug your pants the rest of the way down your calves. He balled them up and threw them in the general direction of where his own pants were.
You pulled at the bottom of his t-shirt, and he quickly got the hint, pulling it over his head.
You’d seen him shirtless plenty of times. There was the Rolling Stone cover (along with countless other magazines), outdoor Corroded Coffin shows where he’d inevitably end up shirtless, even days when he’d invite the band over to his fancy rooftop apartment to lounge by the pool in the summertime. But you’d never been this close.
Close enough to see the spot on his chest beneath his collarbone where the one of the legs on his spider tattoo was a shade more faded than the rest.
Your gaze shifted down his torso to the dark trail of hair that disappeared into his boxers. Suddenly struck with the fact you’d been blatantly ogling him for the past few minutes, you looked back up to his face quickly, expecting to find him already staring at you.
He was staring at you, just not at your face like you’d expected.
You couldn’t exactly pinpoint where his gaze was, but it was without a doubt far below your neck.
You were naked, sure, but something about the way he was so openly peering at you made you feel even a step past naked. It was like he’d stripped a layer of you back, and was looking at you completely. It made your skin prick with something beyond arousal.
For a moment, you wanted to sink in on yourself—you couldn’t name a time you’d felt more exposed. But the way his boxers were tented replaced any mortification with something hot injected straight into your veins.
He finally looked up at your face, shameless about being caught, and leaned in, closing the gap between you. Your lips met and his moved against yours like second nature.
His tongue licked into your mouth like he was trying to map it. You suckled at the warmth of his tongue as he began to pull at the hem of your shirt. You parted long enough for your shift to join the pile of the rest of your clothes.
Eddie’s hand met your face and caressed you gently, a stark contrast for the way his tongue was ravaging your mouth. Your chest heaved as you moved impossibly closer to him, centimeters from being entirely in his lap.
“Here,” he mumbled against your lips before softly turning you around until you were over the back of the couch.
Your breasts pressed against the top of the couch, your nipples pebbled on the rough fabric, as your knees sunk into the cushions of the seat. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t purposefully push your ass out, presenting yourself to him.
The wet spot in your underwear was growing uncomfortable and you were painfully aware of it as you pressed your thighs together in a lame attempt to ease the incessant throbbing in your core.
You sat up on your elbows to peer over your shoulder. Eddie was running his tongue over his bottom lip, and when you noticed the slight jerk of his arm, your gaze trailed lower to watch him tug on his cock slowly. You couldn’t help the way you arched your back further.
He’d dropped his boxers just enough to free his cock and for a moment, you (embarrassingly) hated you missed the exact moment he’d pulled it out—hated you missed the way it surely had bobbed up towards his stomach from the sheer weight of it once he’d pulled his underwear down.
He paused at the base to squeeze tightly, and God, it gave you the opportunity to truly admire it.
You knew he would be big. I mean, come on. It was clear by the way he acted that he would be packing. But shit, your imagination really had nothing on the real thing.
Thick and long—you were sure your hand wouldn’t be able to fit around its girth. Against his hand it seemed even bigger. A pronounced vein ran up the side to the rosy tip.
Eddie gave it another slow stroke, a smirk on his face. “Big enough for you, sweetheart?”
Your only response was the slight shift of your shoulder and chin.
He squeezed his cock, mumbling under his breath, “Too fuckin’ sweet.”
You didn’t have any time to react before Eddie was diving down onto his knees, his mouth latching onto your glistening pussy.
“Oh!” You jumped, and Eddie wrapped his arms beneath your thighs to keep your cunt held tightly against his hungry mouth.
He licked a stripe from your clit to the edge of your tightest hole. For a moment you thought his tongue was going to keep going right across, and you weren’t sure if you liked the way the mere idea of it made heat crawl up your neck, but he stopped to pull back.
“Sweet girl, even sweeter cunt.”
Cunt.
“Eddie,” you whined, feeling your heartbeat in your ears.
He sucked two fingers into his mouth before you felt them run along your slit.
“Yeah, baby?” He rested his cheek right below the swell of your ass. “Talk to me.”
Suddenly, you were hyperaware of the recording equipment surrounding you and picking up every word, sound, and rustle. You dropped your face to the top of the couch, rubbing your nose against it.
“Hey,” Eddie mumbled. His hand shifted and ran across the globe of your ass. “I can delete it if you don’t like it.” His other hand came up, then he was caressing the expanse of your ass broad with both his wide palms. “I’m still enjoying myself, okay? I’m not just doing this for the record, I…” You heard him swallow. “I think you’re gorgeous—fuckin’ perfect, really—and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about you before…like this.”
Leave it to Eddie to make you blush when he just had his entire face in your cunt.
You lifted your head to peer over your shoulder at him. “No, no—I, uh. I wanna keep going. And I want you to use it for the record. I just—” You sighed. “I don’t wanna sound stupid.”
He immediately bristled. “You’re not gonna sound stupid.” He brought his hand down a few times on your cheek, not quite a spank. “Here, turn this way.” He helped you maneuver until your back was against the couch cushions. “Help me out, baby.” He pressed your legs up from beneath your knees, and you tucked your arms there, holding yourself open for him.
He made a low sound in his chest, and you realized how exposed you were. You didn’t get bashful though. You managed to keep yourself the way he wanted, even with the way you felt heat rising up beneath your skin.
“Don’t think so hard about it, okay?” Eddie said as he lowered himself back down to you. “It’s just you ‘n me.
And the recording, you thought, but his words eased you nonetheless.
You were suddenly thankful he had you holding your legs as his nose prodded your hole as he moved to suckle at your clit.
“Oh, th–that—yeah,” was all you managed to spit out.
“Mhm?” he hummed against you, and you swore you felt it down to your toes.
“Yeah,” you sighed.
A hand reached down to swipe his thumb across your clit as his tongue finally dipped into you.
You whined. “Please.”
“Hm? Talk to me, sweet girl, d’you want it?”
“Mhm, I’wan’it.” Your words all slurred into one another.
When you felt his middle finger prod at your hole, you couldn’t help the desperate sound that left you.
“Yeah? That what you need?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Ah…c’mon. Tell me.”
“That’s what I need, Eddie,” you quickly breathed out. In that moment, you would’ve done anything he asked you.
“There we go,” he said, more to himself, as he finally sunk a finger into you.
You couldn’t even be embarrassed anymore with the sounds that left you. You were so wet, you could hear the slick sucking sound everytime he fucked his finger into you, and he quickly added another.
“So wet. She’s sucking me in.” He didn’t even look up as he spoke. Your pussy was drooling around his fingers and down his wrist, his rings now coated with milky white. Your clit was puffy and swollen, peeking out with every thrust of his hand.
You raised your hips as he continued, following him as he curled his fingers up into you, hitting that spot. You hadn’t even realized your mouth had been wide open, sounds falling out freely.
“Ed—oh.” You bit your lip harshly. “Your mouth.”
He raised an eyebrow at you, never one stopping his ministrations. “Huh, baby? She want a kiss?”
You nodded eagerly, hands slipping along your thighs that had become balmy with sweat. “Yeah, yeah, please.”
“I’ll give her a kiss, baby.” The last thing you saw before he lowered his head again was the flash of his smile.
When his lips met you, you gasped. He closed them firmly around your clit and the wet sound was so loud you were certain the microphones were picking it up. You didn’t care anymore—you couldn’t care, not if it felt this good.
His tongue on your swollen bud paired with his fingers inside you—curling so perfectly you swore your vision whited out every time he did it—brought you barreling towards your release. You could barely pant out, “I’m–I’m gonna—” before you were cumming loud and unabashedly. He worked you through it, finally stopping when your whines got especially pitchy.
The moment he raised up from your core, you dropped your legs, now boneless. Your heartbeat was still a steady pulse in your clit. You caught your breath, swiping the sweat from your face.
“Good?” Eddie asked, looking a little too smug (though you guessed it was earned).
“Better than good,” you said, your voice already halfway ruined.
You sat up properly on the couch as Eddie maneuvered back over to his pants, pulling something from his pocket. He turned back around and now had a condom pulled over the length of his dick, making you sit up even straighter.
Once your legs had stopped feeling like jelly, you had had every intention of returning the favor. You started, “Y’don’t want me to—”
“No, no.” You heard the smack of his hand against his dick. “Fuck. I mean, yeah, sweetheart, ‘course I do, but I need to be inside you, like, now.”
“Next time, then,” you said, narrowly biting back a smirk.
He quirked a brow at you, not bothering to bite back his smirk. “Next time?”
“Yeah.” You spread your legs, making room for him. “If you don’t kill me first.”
He fit perfectly between your legs, crowding you against the couch. His gaze was glued to your slippery cunt as he tapped the spongy tip of his cock against your clit. He raised his eyes long enough to say, “Could say the same for you.”
He slid his length up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices. You tried to be patient, you really did, but when he tapped his head against your clit again with a wet squelch, you couldn’t help the whine that left you.
“Alright, alright,” he mumbled. He said it so gently and lovingly, you swore your pussy spit out another half gallon. “I’ll put it in, now you just gotta sing for me. You’ll do that for me, right?”
“Yeah, yeah.” You were nodding eagerly. “Please, please, please just put it in. I need it. I—oh—”
He sunk in easily, you more than prepared after your first orgasm, but his size still made your breath catch in your throat. He groaned like he wasn’t doing much better.
“She’s choking me, baby, fuck.” He sounded pained, the veins in his arm flexing where he was holding himself up over you.
It was a stretch, and you could feel every inch of him in you, yet you still clawed at his arms, wanting—no, needing more.
“More, come on, I need it all—” No quicker than the words left your mouth, Eddie pushed all the way in with a loud groan.
Now, it was you that sounded pained, but you’d never felt better in your life. It felt like he’d sunk completely up through your stomach and into your throat. You could feel him everywhere. Your head flew back against cushions and you gripped his bicep as you looked down where you were taking him.
He had been staring up at the ceiling, his mouth wide open, but when he saw where your gaze was locked, he lowered his own, and you watched as his neck all the way down to his chest grew red.
“Fuck, I’m, fuck—” He pulled out maybe an inch before sinking back in, like he couldn’t bear to pull out. He couldn’t. “She’s sucking me right in.”
Finally, he began to shallowly thrust into you and the grip you had on his bicep tightened as your mouth fell open. His heavy cock was splitting you right open and felt like it was hitting every spot, if that was even possible.
Eddie raised one hand to cup your chin, running his thumb along your bottom lip. “C’mere, baby,” he said lowly.
He lowered his face to yours and spat right into your waiting mouth. As he did, he pulled all the way out, leaving his tip kissing your hole, before plunging back in completely. You didn't recognize the strangled, pornographic sound that left you.
His spit was warm in your mouth and you could feel your slick gushing from between your legs with every thrust of his fat cock. You were easily gripping him for dear life—both with your hands and your cunt.
He shifted until his dick was kissing that spot that he’d so easily found with his fingers. The sounds—your whining, his moans, the slick sound of your bodies meeting—seemed to bounce off the walls, and the recording equipment couldn’t have been further from your mind. All you could think was Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.
It seemed to be the same for him, the way your name left his lips in desperate puffs. “Touch yourself, please, I’m so—” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, but never once stopped his eager pace.
You dropped your hand between your legs immediately, your fingers slippery as they scrubbed across your clit.
“Right—right there.” You had squeezed your eyes shut. You were right at the edge of your release, you just needed— “Right there, right there, right—ohmygod—”
“Yeah? Yeah, baby? I got you, I fuckin’ got you—”
You clung to him, your vision spotty and your chest heaving, as you came with a loud whine of his name. He buried himself to the hilt with a shout of your name, the hair at the base of him borderline overstimulating your sensitive clit.
He dropped down against you, his cock softening inside you. His arms wrapped around you, and you felt he was trembling. You weren’t in much better shape.
“Are you—” He stopped to inhale shakily. “Jesus, you okay?”
You hummed. Your bodies were both slimy with sweat and other juices, which sounded more than uncomfortable, but you found the warm weight of him comforting.
He peered at you, petting your hair away from your face. “You sure?”
“‘M good,” you finally croaked. “You—I—” You paused to laugh, shaking your head. “I think you fucked my brains out."
He laughed, strands of his damp hair shaking with the force of it.
“Yeah, well, if that’s the case then you sucked out my soul.” He ran a finger along the length of your face. “You know, through your puss—”
“I get it,” you cut in, laughing. You glanced over to the window to the production room. “Think we got anything good?”
Eddie looked at you like you’d grown three heads before his lip curled, a devious smile on his face. “I dunno…might better do it one more time. Just to be safe.”
Six months later.
“Eddie, you gotta tell us, man.” The interviewer leaned over his desk towards him. “Everybody’s dying to know about…that part on the new record.”
“What part, Howard?” Eddie shot a knowing glance at the audience, which got a few cheers. “I know Gareth killed the drums on the bridge.”
The crowd laughed.
“You know the part,” Howard insisted, laughing. “I think everybody knows the part.”
“I think it speaks for itself,” Eddie said. “Don’t really have much to say on that.”
“Well, your fans have had a lot to say about it,” Howard continued.
“No denyin’ that, that’s for sure.” Eddie tugged at the collar of his shirt, making the crowd laugh.
“I think one of the biggest questions has been…well.” Howard shrugged. “I don’t know how else to ask it—but well, was it real?”
Eddie looked from Howard to the audience. Right before he opened his mouth to speak, the television flickered off.
“Hey!” you called. “I was watching that.”
Eddie sat the remote down on the coffee table before taking a seat on the couch next to you. “You’ve watched it at least ten times since it aired.”
“Maybe I was trying to make it eleven.”
He hummed, his arm coming around your shoulders. You melted into his side easily.
“How’s the new guy?” you asked, rubbing your cheek against his chest.
“Good. He’s a great fit for the band.” He dropped his cheek and rested it on top of your head. “Jaxon hasn’t tried to reach out anymore. Or showed up at the studio wasted, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not worried.” It was true—you weren’t. You knew Eddie would handle everything. He always did.
“Good.” He planted a kiss on your head.
You sat up and grabbed the remote from the table. He groaned as you turned it back on.
“You could probably recite this word-for-word by now.” He shook his head.
You pressed back against him, pushing your tongue to your teeth to prevent a smile.
“Everyone’s dying to know who it is,” Howard was urging. “At least give us a hint.”
On the screen, Eddie shrugged, clearly trying and failing to seem nonchalant. You couldn’t stop yourself from mouthing the words along with him as he said, “Well, it’s my girl.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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description: for the sake of the band, the friend group, and his own sanity, eddie keeps his feelings for you firmly to himself. unfortunately, one offhand correction during a hellfire campaign reveals you're just as much of a fantasy nerd as he is. from that moment on, eddie is completely and utterly screwed.
pairing: eddie munson x nerdy!reader (fem!reader)
tags: eddie munson x you, no y/n, reader insert, FLUFFFF, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, boyfriend!eddie munson, hellfire club, guitarist!reader, gareth's bestfriend!reader, excessive physical affection, domestic fluff, reader gets special treatment during campaigns, gareth gets fed up of the will they wont they bs
TW: NSFW (18+) minors do not interact!!!, PiV, unprotected, some post-campaign fun ;)
WC: 7.0k
A/N: requested by @eddiemunsonspantschain AHHH hello all! requestpalooza has started, so thank you to all who have submitted! i hope you all enjoy!! (i proofread as best as i could, i am utterly exhausted pls be gentle)
reblogs are truly appreciated <33
enjoy some lovely fluff. thought you all would appreciate a palate cleanser after the angst streak.
If anyone had asked Eddie Munson to describe you, his answer would've been embarrassingly simple: quiet, pretty, funny when you actually spoke, and an absolute menace on rhythm guitar.
You'd been Gareth's best friend since elementary school, which automatically made you part of the group years before Eddie ever showed up. Somewhere between band practice in Gareth's garage and late-night drives to nowhere with cheap gas station snacks, you'd just... become one of them.
You usually sat with your combat boots kicked up on an amp, cigarette hanging lazily between your fingers while Jeff and Gareth argued over chords and Eddie rambled about whatever had caught his attention that week.
Sometimes horror movies. Sometimes a new Metallica album. Sometimes some insane campaign he'd spent six straight hours writing instead of doing homework.
You'd just listen, smile every now and then. Throw in the occasional dry comment that made everyone laugh harder than anything else said that evening. Then go back to quietly restringing your guitar.
As far as Eddie knew, that was the extent of it. He knew you liked metal. He knew you preferred your coffee black. He knew you kept a denim jacket covered in patches draped over the back of Gareth's couch because you were over there so often.
He knew you could play Iron Maiden riffs cleaner than half the guys he'd met. He knew he had the most pathetic schoolboy crush on you imaginable. He also knew Gareth would never let him live it down if he acted on it.
So he didn't.
He flirted just enough that everyone thought that's simply how Eddie talked to girls. He'd throw you a grin. Call you sweetheart. Offer you the first beer. Let your shoulder bump against his when everyone piled onto the couch.
Nothing serious, nothing obvious. Nothing that would risk screwing up something that already worked. Because having you around was better than making things awkward and losing you altogether.
You, meanwhile, had somehow convinced everyone you had absolutely zero hobbies beyond music, which was exactly how you preferred it.
Nobody knew about the stack of fantasy novels hidden underneath your bed. Nobody knew about the little notebook full of campaign ideas. Nobody knew about the afternoons you'd spent reading through Gareth's Player's Handbook after he'd accidentally left it at your house when you were fifteen. And absolutely nobody knew that after borrowing it once, you'd gone out and bought your own.
Then another, and then another. By now you owned enough books that your bookshelf looked suspiciously like a tiny game shop. Not because you actually played; you'd never had the courage.
You just liked learning about it. The stories. The worlds. The maps. The mythology. You found it fascinating. But somewhere along the line, quietly reading had turned into quietly memorizing.
Which was why, every time Hellfire met in the theatre room after school, you intentionally sat just far enough away that you couldn't hear very well.
Because if you could hear...You'd start correcting people, and nobody likes that person. So you kept your mouth shut. It worked for months.
Until one rainy Thursday when band practice got canceled because Gareth's parents wanted the garage cleaned out, leaving the entire group with nowhere to be. Hellfire happened to be meeting.
"You should just stay," Dustin insisted.
"You literally sit here anyway."
"I'm not playing."
"You don't have to."
Jeff chimed in from somewhere behind him. "Yeah, just hang out."
You looked toward Gareth; he shrugged, "Might as well."
So you settled into one of the empty chairs against the wall with a comic book you'd barely read a page of while Eddie started spinning another one of his ridiculously elaborate campaigns.
You weren't trying to pay attention; you really weren't. But you couldn't help overhearing bits and pieces. Names you recognized. Places you recognized. Monsters you recognized. And honestly? He was really good.
Animated. Creative. Completely invested. Watching him practically stand on top of the fake throne to voice an evil wizard was charming enough that you forgot to hide your smile.
Then it happened. "So naturally," Eddie declared dramatically, "the basilisk's gaze instantly petrifies all three of you permanently—"
You physically looked up, and your eyebrows pulled together, lips parting. No. No, no, no.
You looked back down at your comic. You could ignore it. You should ignore it. Dustin was already reacting. Mike was planning around it. Lucas looked mildly horrified.
You squeezed your eyes shut. Stay quiet. Stay quiet. Stay—
"...Actually..." The word slipped out before you could stop it.
Every single head turned toward you. You immediately wished the floor would open beneath your chair.
Eddie blinked. "Hm?"
You stared at your comic. "...Nothing."
He tilted his head. "No, c'mon."
You sighed through your nose. "...A basilisk's gaze doesn't permanently petrify you."
Silence. "It can," Eddie answered carefully.
"It can…but not instantly."
You paused, rethinking your life’s choices, but decided to follow through. "It requires you to fail the saving throw."
Dustin slowly looked between both of you like he was watching a tennis match.
Eddie folded his arms. "...Okay."
You already hated this.
"And how exactly do you know that?"
You mumbled the answer.
"What was that?"
"...Monster Manual."
"What?"
You looked up reluctantly. "The Monster Manual."
He stared, and you stared back.
"...Page seventy-three."
Absolute silence. Jeff's jaw slowly fell open. Gareth looked at you, a mix of suspicion and pride forming. "...Since when?"
You rubbed the back of your neck. "I don't know."
"You own a Monster Manual?"
"...Yeah."
Eddie's voice got quieter. "...Anything else?"
You made the mistake of answering honestly. "I've got most of them."
He blinked. "Most... of them."
"The books."
"The books."
"Yeah."
He looked genuinely speechless. Then, very carefully, "...Name five schools of magic."
You frowned. "There are eight."
His eyes got wider.
Without thinking, you started listing them. "Abjuration, Conjuration, Divination, Enchantment, Evocation, Illusion, Necromancy, Transmutation."
By the time you finished, Eddie was staring at you with an expression somewhere between existential crisis and complete infatuation.
He looked over at Gareth, looked back at you, then looked at Gareth again.
"You've been hiding this from me?"
You blinked. "I didn't think anybody cared."
"Cared?"
He sounded personally offended. "Cared?"
You shrugged helplessly. "I don't actually play."
"So?"
"I just read them."
"So?"
"I like lore."
"So?"
"I didn't think it mattered."
Eddie dragged both hands down his face, then looked at you again with something that almost looked pained. "I have spent three years desperately searching for people who voluntarily read sourcebooks."
You looked confused. "...Really?"
"And Gareth has apparently been gatekeeping the coolest girl in Hawkins."
Gareth immediately defended himself. "I DIDN'T KNOW EITHER."
Eddie looked back at you. Then, with complete sincerity, "Please join Hellfire."
You laughed.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
"No, seriously." He leaned across the table. "I am literally begging you."
You couldn't help smiling. He looked completely smitten, like something had clicked into place. Like the cute girl he'd been trying not to flirt with too much had suddenly started speaking his favorite language.
And judging by the ridiculous grin spreading across his face, you had absolutely no idea what you'd just done to him.
It started small: a little less space between you on Gareth's couch. Conversations that accidentally stretched long after everyone else had wandered into another room. The realization that if Eddie had a campaign idea, your opinion was one of the first he wanted.
At some point, it became completely normal for Gareth to call your house and ask if he could come over to work on music, only to show up twenty minutes later with Eddie in tow and an armful of graph paper, dice, and notebooks.
Band practice would last an hour; campaign brainstorming would last four.
You'd all end up around your bedroom floor or the dining room table with pencils scattered everywhere, Eddie pacing barefoot because he'd inevitably kicked his shoes off halfway through explaining something.
"No, okay, listen," he'd insist, waving his hands around wildly. "Imagine the town thinks they're cursed because people keep disappearing into the woods."
You'd be scribbling notes already. "They're not disappearing."
He'd stop. "No?"
"They're being taken."
"By what?"
You'd chew on your pencil for a second. "They think it's a monster."
"But?"
"It's not."
He'd grin. "But?"
"It's a druid."
His eyebrows would shoot up. "Oh?"
"They're taking people because something older is waking up underneath the forest and they're trying to keep them away from it."
"That's why you're my favorite."
Gareth, without missing a beat, would throw a crumpled piece of notebook paper at him. "You are so unbelievable."
"What?"
"You don't even hear yourself."
"Hear what?"
"'That's why you're my favorite.'" He mocked.
Eddie would look genuinely confused. "I meant campaign-wise."
"Mhm."
"I did."
"Mhm."
Jeff would snort from wherever he happened to be sitting. You'd duck your head to hide a smile while pretending to be very invested in your notes.
Eventually Eddie would wander over anyway, leaning over your shoulder to look at whatever you'd been writing. His hair would brush yours.
His hands would be slightly closer to yours against the table. He'd smell faintly like cigarettes and weed and that cologne you complimented one time, and he refused to wear a different one since.
"Holy shit."
You'd glance up. "What?"
"This is so much better than what I had."
He'd snatch your notebook. "Eddie."
"Nope."
"Eddie."
"This is mine now."
"You can't just steal my ideas."
"I absolutely can."
He'd flip another page. "You drew maps?"
You'd immediately reach for the notebook. "No."
He'd lift it over his head. "You drew maps."
"Eddie."
"You color-coded the districts."
"Eddie."
"You made economic systems."
"Oh my god, give it back."
He'd be laughing too hard to defend himself as you reached for it, nearly climbing over him in the process. Somewhere behind you, Gareth would let out the most exhausted sigh known to mankind.
"Jesus Christ."
Neither of you would even notice. You'd finally grab the notebook back, smoothing out the bent page with exaggerated offense.
"You suck."
"I know."
"You bent it."
"I'll buy you another."
"I don't want another."
"I'll buy you five."
"They won't have my notes."
He'd soften immediately. "...Good point."
Then, almost sheepishly, "I'm sorry."
You'd just smile. "It's okay."
And somehow that stupid little interaction would live in his head for days afterward.
The problem was that spending more time around Eddie wasn't making your crush go away; it was making it catastrophically worse.
It was one thing to think he was attractive from across Gareth's garage while he played guitar. It was another thing entirely to watch him get excited over stories.
To watch him grin when you challenged one of his ideas and immediately start building on yours instead. To watch him get genuinely delighted when you beat him to a fantasy reference. He really listened to you. Like, actually.
Half your conversations started with him saying, "Wait, what do you think?"
Nobody had ever asked you that so often before. It made your chest hurt a little. Then there were the little things.
He always sat next to you. Always offered you the first slice of pizza. Always saved you the root beer because he'd noticed it was your favorite after seeing you pick it out exactly twice.
One afternoon, he disappeared for ten minutes while everyone argued over music. When he came back, he tossed something into your lap. You looked down: a little pewter dragon pin. Nothing fancy, probably from the flea market. Its wing was chipped, and one eye had faded paint.
"I saw it and thought of you."
Your heart nearly stopped. "It's cool."
"I figured you'd put it on your jacket."
You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. "I will."
He looked suspiciously pleased with himself. Across the room, Gareth watched the exchange happen in complete silence before rubbing both hands over his face.
Jeff noticed. "What?"
Gareth looked at him. "I can't do this anymore."
"Do what?"
He pointed between the two of you. "This."
Jeff looked over. "...They're talking."
"They're in love."
"They're discussing dragons."
"They're discussing dragons in love."
Jeff started laughing, then Gareth stood up dramatically. "Eddie."
"Hm?"
"You know you can just ask her out."
The room went completely still. Eddie looked genuinely horrified. "What?"
"You heard me."
"No?"
"Ask her out."
He immediately looked at you, then away again so quickly it almost gave you whiplash. "I am not asking her out."
"And why not?"
"Because she's your best friend."
"So?"
"What if she says no?"
You looked down at your hands, and Gareth threw both arms into the air. "And what if she says yes?"
Eddie looked personally offended by the suggestion. "Don't mess with me."
"I'm literally not."
Jeff had gone completely silent, clearly realizing something much larger was unfolding.
Gareth pointed at you now. "And you."
Your head snapped up.
"When are you gonna tell him?"
You nearly choked. "Tell him what?"
He stared. "Oh, don't even."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You look at him like he personally invented the damn game himself."
Your face instantly went hot. "I absolutely do not."
"You absolutely do."
"I don't."
"You do."
"I don't."
"You literally smile every time he walks into a room."
"I smile at everyone."
"You do not smile at Jeff."
Jeff looked mildly offended. "Hey!"
You buried your face in your hands. "This is awful."
Gareth groaned loud enough to shake the walls. "I swear to God, one of you has got to grow a spine."
Eddie looked over at you. You peeked at him through your fingers. The second your eyes met, both of you immediately looked somewhere else.
Gareth stood there for another few seconds before muttering to himself and grabbing his jacket. "I'm going outside."
Jeff followed. "Me too."
The door shut behind them. You were still looking at the floor while Eddie was rubbing the back of his neck.
Finally, after what felt like forever, he spoke. "...For what it's worth..."
You looked up.
"...I don't think he's completely wrong."
Your stomach did a complete somersault. He looked terrified; you probably looked exactly the same. Then, somehow, despite both of you being objectively hopeless at this sort of thing...
You both started laughing. The nervous, embarrassed kind that comes out when there's nothing else left to do.
"So..."
"So."
Then both of you started talking at exactly the same time.
"I'm sor—"
"I didn't mea—"
You stopped, he stopped, and you both laughed again. Eddie shook his head, looking down at the floor with the kind of smile that only appeared when he was genuinely embarrassed.
"I've fought people with knives, and somehow this is scarier."
That made you smile. "I don't think Gareth was supposed to say all that."
"He definitely wasn't."
"He looked like he was gonna explode."
"He has looked like that for weeks."
Your eyebrows pulled together. "Weeks?"
Eddie looked up, immediately realizing he'd said too much. "...Maybe."
You studied him for a second. "You knew?"
He let out a long sigh. "I knew he thought something."
"And?"
"And I kept telling him he was making it up."
"You did?"
"Mhm."
"And was he?"
He looked at you for a long moment before quietly admitting, "...No."
Your heart gave one heavy, impossible thud. He looked back down almost immediately.
"I just figured..." he started, picking at one of the rings on his fingers. "I don't know."
"You can tell me."
He laughed softly to himself. "I figured I was reading into things because I wanted to."
He shrugged. "You laugh at my jokes."
"They're funny."
"You always sit next to me."
"So do you."
"You remember everything I tell you."
"So do you."
"You still have that stupid dragon pin."
You instinctively looked down at your jacket hanging over the chair across the room. It was still there, pinned right over your heart.
You looked back at him. "...Of course I do."
His ears turned pink as he smiled to himself. "I kept thinking maybe you were just nice."
"And I kept thinking you flirted with everybody."
"I do flirt with everybody."
"I know."
"But not like that."
You looked at him. He was still staring at the floor. Quietly, almost too quietly to hear, he added, "Not like you."
He took another breath. "I didn't want to make things weird."
"I didn't either."
"I didn't want Gareth to think I was making band practice complicated."
"I didn't either."
"I didn't want to screw up the friend group."
"I didn't either."
That earned another little laugh from both of you. It was almost ridiculous, months of overthinking condensed into a handful of matching sentences.
He shifted a little closer on the couch. "...Can I ask you something?"
You nodded, but he hesitated anyway. "If Gareth comes back in here and starts laughing at me, I'm moving to Canada."
You couldn't help smiling. "I don't think you’d make it that far."
"I've got enough gas money to reach Ohio."
"Fair."
Then he just blurted it out. "...Would you maybe wanna go on a date with me?"
No dramatic speech, no rehearsed line, no confidence. Just Eddie, visibly terrified, trying to act like his entire future wasn't hanging on your answer.
Then your mouth betrayed you before your brain could. "...I thought you'd never ask."
His eyes got impossibly wide. "...Really?"
You laughed. "Eddie."
"No, seriously."
"I'm serious."
"You mean yes?"
"I mean yes."
"You actually mean yes?"
"I do."
He blinked twice. Then covered his face with both hands. "Oh, my God."
You could hear him laughing behind them. "Oh, my God."
He dragged his hands down slowly, looking somewhere between relieved and completely stunned. "I had a whole backup speech."
"You did?"
"It was terrible."
"I would've liked to hear it."
"No chance."
"Please?"
"It somehow involved dragons."
You laughed so hard your head dropped forward. "I absolutely believe that."
He looked at you for another second before another thought visibly crossed his mind. "Oh."
"What?"
"So..." He scratched at the back of his neck again. "This is kind of embarrassing."
"What is?"
"I didn't think you'd actually say yes."
"So you don't have a date planned."
"...Not exactly."
You bit back a smile.
"I had approximately seventy-three fantasies and zero logistics."
"I appreciate the honesty."
He thought for a second, then suddenly snapped his fingers. "Wait."
"What?"
"The open-air market."
"The one over by Main?"
"Yeah,” he smiled. "My uncle goes every few weeks."
"I've never actually been."
"You haven't?"
You shook your head.
"They've got old records and books and weird antiques and flea market junk and people selling handmade jewelry and all kinds of random stuff."
He was getting animated now, talking with his hands the way he always did when he got excited. "And this old guy that always has boxes of fantasy novels for like fifty cents."
Your eyebrows lifted. "Oh?"
"And another booth with vintage band shirts."
"Oh?"
"And there's usually a food truck with cider donuts."
"...Eddie."
"What?"
"I already said yes."
"I know."
"I'm just making my case."
"You don't have to."
He grinned. "So..." His voice softened. "Tomorrow morning?"
You smiled. "I'd like that."
"You would?"
"I would."
"What time?"
"Whenever you pick me up."
His grin somehow grew even bigger. "Nine?"
"Nine."
For another second, neither of you moved, just smiled at each other like two complete idiots. Then the front door flew open. Gareth walked in carrying two sodas, took one look at the way you were looking at each other, and immediately stopped.
His eyes narrowed. "...No."
Neither of you said anything. He looked at Eddie, he looked at you, and then he looked back at Eddie once more. "...No."
Jeff stepped around him. "What?"
Gareth pointed dramatically. "They're smiling."
Jeff looked. "...Yeah?"
"The weird smiling."
"They smile."
"No."
He pointed harder. "The smile."
Jeff watched for another second, then slowly grinned. "...Oh."
Gareth closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "...Did one of you finally grow a spine?"
Eddie looked over with a smile he couldn't suppress if he tried. "...Maybe."
Gareth stood perfectly still, then set both sodas on the coffee table. Then walked over and hugged you. Then hugged Eddie.
Then immediately pushed him away again. "If you break her heart, I'll kill you."
Eddie nodded solemnly. "Fair."
Gareth looked at you. "If you break his heart, I'll kill you too."
You nodded just as seriously. "Also fair."
He looked between the two of you one last time before throwing both hands into the air. "Jesus Christ."
Jeff laughed. "What?"
"I HAVE BEEN WATCHING THIS FOR SIX MONTHS."
He turned toward the ceiling. "THANK YOU."
And somewhere beside him, Eddie's hand quietly found yours for the very first time. He didn't make a joke. Didn't look at you. Didn't say anything at all.
He just laced his fingers with yours like he'd been wanting to for a very, very long time. You squeezed once, and he squeezed back.
The next morning, you were standing on your front porch at exactly 8:58 when you heard the familiar rattle of Eddie's van coming down the street. Not that you'd been waiting by the window or anything…definitely not.
The van pulled into the driveway, and before it had even fully stopped, you could see Eddie leaning across the passenger seat.
The door swung open. "Good morning."
You laughed. "It's nine in the morning."
"And?"
"You look entirely too excited."
He grinned. "I got a date."
Your stomach immediately betrayed you. The stupid thing was that you'd known Eddie for years now. You'd spent countless afternoons with him. Late-night band practices. Movie marathons. Campaign planning sessions.
Yet somehow, the word "date" made everything feel different.
You climbed into the passenger seat and immediately noticed the stack of cassette tapes scattered between the seats. "You cleaned."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
"I moved things."
"Eddie."
"The important garbage is still here."
Neither of you had to struggle for conversation. You talked about music, about the campaign you'd been helping him write. About the ridiculous argument Jeff and Dustin had gotten into over whether dragons or vampires were cooler. By the time the market came into view, you'd spent half the drive laughing.
The open-air market occupied an old fairground lot just outside town. Rows of tents stretched across the grass. People wandered between booths carrying coffee cups and paper bags. Music drifted through the air from somewhere. The entire place smelled like baked goods, fresh grass, and sunlight.
"This is cute."
Eddie looked weirdly pleased by your approval. "Right?"
You followed him through the aisles, taking your time. Every booth seemed to have something different. Old records. Handmade jewelry. Vintage books. Antiques. Hand-painted signs. One tent was entirely dedicated to old movie posters. Another sold homemade candles.
A woman was knitting behind a table full of scarves despite the weather being far too warm for scarves.
"This place is amazing."
"I know."
"You come here often?"
He shrugged. "Sometimes with Wayne."
You stopped at a table full of records while Eddie flipped through another crate beside you. Every couple of seconds, one of you would hold something up.
"What about this?"
"No."
"This?"
"Absolutely not."
"This?"
"Now we're talking."
It felt easy, like everything else did with him. Eventually you reached a booth covered in old band shirts hanging from racks.
Your eyes immediately lit up. "Oh, my God."
You were already digging through them. Most were faded, some had holes, and a few were clearly older than both of you combined.
You found a Black Sabbath shirt and held it up. "Eddie."
His eyes widened. "No way."
"It's my size."
"That's illegal."
You immediately bought it. He found a faded Dio shirt twenty minutes later and looked just as excited.
"You are absolutely getting that."
"I don't know."
"Eddie."
"It's kinda expensive."
It was eight dollars. You stared. "Eddie."
"Okay, when you say it like that."
You rolled your eyes. He bought the shirt, and you continued wandering. At some point, your shoulder started brushing his when you walked.
Then you found the books, a whole tent full of them. Secondhand fantasy novels stacked in crooked towers. Leather-bound collections. Old paperbacks. Forgotten adventures.
You immediately disappeared inside. Eddie smiled before you were even fully gone. Of course this would be your favorite booth. He watched you crouch beside a stack, completely absorbed within seconds.
Your fingers carefully turned pages. Your eyes scanned titles. You smiled when you found something interesting. And God, maybe it was pathetic. But he could've stood there all day watching you be happy.
Instead, he wandered a few booths down, and that's when he saw the flowers. A little elderly woman sat beneath a striped canopy surrounded by buckets overflowing with blooms. Sunflowers. Wildflowers. Daisies. Lavender. Tiny pink roses. The entire booth looked like something out of a storybook.
Eddie wasn't really a flower guy, at least he hadn't been. But then he spotted a small bouquet sitting in a glass jar. Nothing fancy, just a handful of wildflowers tied together with twine. It looked like something someone had picked during a walk.
For some reason, it immediately reminded him of you. The woman caught him staring.
"Got a girl?"
Eddie immediately looked away. "No."
She smiled knowingly. Then glanced toward the book tent where you stood.
"Honey."
He groaned.
The woman laughed. "That one's cute."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah."
"You should buy her flowers."
"What if she thinks it's weird?"
The woman gave him a look. "Son."
"Yeah?"
"She's here with you at the crack ass of dawn, isn’t she?"
Fair point.
Five minutes later, he was walking back with the bouquet hidden awkwardly behind his back. You still hadn't noticed him. You were standing in front of a shelf with three books pressed against your chest, completely focused.
"Find anything good?"
You looked up immediately. "Look."
You handed him one. Then another. Then another. By the end of your explanation, you were smiling so hard that he almost forgot what he'd been doing.
"Oh."
"What?"
"I got you something."
Your eyebrows lifted. "You did?"
He suddenly felt sixteen years old. "Yeah."
Then he awkwardly revealed the bouquet, and immediately regretted every decision he'd ever made.
"I saw them and—"
You froze. "Oh."
His heart dropped. Maybe it was stupid. Maybe flowers were too much. Maybe—
"Oh, my God." You looked genuinely shocked. "Eddie."
Your expression softened into something so sweet it nearly killed him. "They're beautiful."
The relief that hit him was immediate. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." You carefully took them from him.
"They reminded me of you." The words slipped out before he could stop them.
You looked up, and his face immediately turned red. "That sounded cooler in my head."
A laugh escaped you. "No."
You glanced down at the flowers again, then back at him. "It's actually really sweet.".
The crowd continued moving around you. People walked past. Music drifted through the air. Yet somehow it felt like the entire world had narrowed down to that tiny space between you. And somewhere in the distance, a vendor yelled that fresh cider donuts were ready.
Eddie immediately pointed. "Okay."
You laughed. "What?"
"Before I say something embarrassingly romantic and ruin my reputation—"
"You don't have a reputation."
"I absolutely do."
"You really don't."
He grinned. "Cider donuts?"
You looked down at the flowers in your hands. "Lead the way, Munson."
His smile was so bright it almost rivaled the morning sun. And for maybe the first time in his life, Eddie couldn't think of a single place he'd rather be
The funny thing was that absolutely nothing changed after you and Eddie started dating. And simultaneously, everything changed.
Band practice still happened in Gareth's garage. Hellfire still met every week. You still spent entirely too much time arguing over music and fantasy novels and campaign mechanics.
Eddie still stole your fries. You still stole his jackets. On the surface, very little was different.
Except now Eddie could kiss you whenever he wanted, which turned out to be a problem. Because Eddie Munson was possibly the most physically affectionate human being to ever walk the earth. You discovered this approximately forty-eight hours into the relationship.
It started innocently enough. A hand on your lower back. His arm around your shoulders. His knee pressed against yours whenever you sat together. Normal boyfriend things. Then it escalated…rapidly.
Somehow Eddie always needed to be touching you. Not in an overbearing way, just constantly. If you were sitting beside him, his hand would find yours without him even realizing it. If you were standing next to him, he'd hook a finger through your belt loop. If you were walking somewhere together, his arm would automatically settle over your shoulders.
Movie nights became nearly impossible because he'd slowly slide lower and lower until his head was in your lap. You'd look down halfway through a film to find him completely comfortable, stealing handfuls of popcorn and using your thigh as a pillow.
"Eddie."
"Hm?"
"You have your own seat."
"This is my seat."
"No, it isn't."
He'd just smile, close his eyes, and settle in deeper. Hopeless, absolutely hopeless. Then there were the kisses.
God. The kisses. Eddie kissed you constantly. Not because he was trying to be smooth. Mostly because he genuinely seemed incapable of stopping himself.
The top of your head. Your cheek. Your temple. Your shoulder. The back of your hand. Sometimes he'd walk into a room, kiss your forehead, and then continue whatever conversation he'd been having as though nothing had happened.
The first few weeks, it caught you off guard every single time. Months later, it still made your heart do stupid little flips. One afternoon you were helping him organize campaign notes at his trailer. You'd been focused on a map for nearly twenty minutes when suddenly—
Mwah.
You looked up. "What was that for?"
He blinked. "What?"
"You just kissed me."
"Yeah."
"Why?"
He looked genuinely confused. "You looked cute."
Then immediately went back to writing, as if that was a perfectly normal explanation. Which, for Eddie, it apparently was. Wayne found the whole thing hilarious.
"You know," Wayne had said one evening while watching Eddie practically drape himself across you on the couch, "for a fella who spent years actin' tough, you sure turned into a sap."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Wayne pointed; Eddie was literally entirely in your bubble.
"And now?"
"I'm comfortable."
"You followed her into the kitchen earlier because she went to get some water."
"I was thirsty."
"You don't even like water."
Eddie opened his mouth, closed it, then looked at you.
"...That's not the point."
The truth was that Eddie had spent so long convincing himself not to cross the line that once he finally could, all that affection had nowhere to go except directly toward you.
And honestly? You loved it. Because underneath all the teasing and dramatics, he was impossibly sweet. He remembered everything, every little thing.
Your favorite candy. Your favorite records. The books you'd mentioned wanting but couldn't find. The exact coffee order you got at the diner. One time you casually mentioned liking a specific fantasy author. Two weeks later, he showed up with a battered secondhand copy he'd found three towns over.
Another time you'd complained that your hands were cold. The next day he brought you a pair of fingerless gloves he'd found at the market. They were hideous and completely ridiculous.
You wore them all winter.
Ironically, your first kiss had been nothing like what you’d expect.
It had happened a couple of weeks after the market, after band practice. Everyone else had left. Jeff had work. Gareth had dinner. You'd stayed behind to help pack up equipment while Eddie finished putting away cables.
The garage had been quiet, just music playing softly from an old radio. You'd been sitting on an amp while he rambled about a campaign idea. Something about dragons, obviously.
At some point, he'd stopped talking, and you'd looked up and realized he was already looking at you.
"Eddie?"
"Hm?"
"You stopped talking."
"I know."
You smiled. "That's unusual."
His laugh had been nervous, which should've tipped you off immediately. Then his eyes dropped to your mouth, only for a second. And suddenly your stomach was somewhere near your shoes. Neither of you moved. Neither of you looked away.
Then Eddie had done something completely out of character. He asked quietly, almost as if he wasn't sure he was allowed, "...Can I kiss you?"
You remembered the way your heart had nearly exploded. The way he'd looked terrified. The way he'd immediately started backtracking when you didn't answer fast enough.
"I mean—you don't have to—I was just—"
You kissed him before he could finish. Mostly because if you'd let him keep talking, he probably would've apologized and fled the state.
For a second, he froze, as if his brain needed a moment to process what was happening. Then one of his hands found your jaw, and suddenly he was kissing you back. Soft and careful, like he couldn’t quite believe it.
Months later, Eddie still brought it up sometimes, usually when he wanted to annoy you.
"You know."
You immediately knew that tone. "What?"
"You kissed me first."
You rolled your eyes. "Here we go."
"I'm just saying."
"You literally asked."
"Technically."
"You were halfway through a panic attack."
"Technically."
"You would've talked yourself out of it."
"Possibly."
"Definitely."
He laughed, then leaned over and kissed your cheek. "Good thing you saved me, sweetheart."
By the time you and Eddie had been dating for about seven months, Hellfire had developed a new problem. Or, more specifically, Eddie had developed a problem. And that problem was you.
"Okay," Dustin said, pointing accusingly across the table. "This is bullshit."
The entire campaign immediately ground to a halt. Eddie looked up from behind his DM screen.
"What is?"
"This,” Dustin gestured wildly.
"Define this."
"You giving her special treatment."
You nearly choked on your soda.
Across the table, Mike immediately nodded. "Thank you."
Lucas pointed. "Finally somebody said it."
Eddie looked genuinely offended. "I do not."
"You absolutely do."
"I absolutely don't."
Jeff snorted. "You absolutely do."
Even Gareth joined in. "Dude."
Eddie looked around the room. "You guys are insane."
Then slowly looked toward you. "...Back me up."
You immediately betrayed him.
"Oh, no." His jaw dropped. "You too? Babe."
The entire table collectively groaned; even the nickname irritated them now.
"Babe?" Mike repeated. "You call her babe in-game too."
"It slipped out once."
"It happened three times last session."
"That's not important."
"It kind of is when you're talking to a barbarian."
Eddie pointed dramatically. "None of you have evidence."
The room exploded. "No evidence?"
"Dude!"
"You literally gave her a dragon."
"It was a baby dragon."
"It was still a dragon."
"It was injured!"
"You let her keep it."
"She nursed it back to health."
"You gave her a dragon."
"...Okay, maybe the dragon thing wasn't helping my case."
"THANK YOU." Dustin practically stood up.
The truth was that they weren't wrong. Eddie tried to be fair; he genuinely did. But every time he sat behind that DM screen, all logic immediately left his body.
You'd mention some random piece of backstory you'd thought of at two in the morning, and suddenly there was an entire side quest dedicated to it.
You'd casually mention that your ranger grew up near the ocean. Next thing everyone knew, there was a mysterious coastal kingdom appearing in the campaign.
One time you'd joked that your character liked collecting shiny rocks. Two sessions later, Eddie had created an entire magical gemstone subplot. The man had no self-control, and everyone knew it.
Especially Gareth, who had spent months witnessing it firsthand. The latest offense had happened approximately twenty minutes earlier. The party had entered a ruined cathedral.
A dangerous encounter, lots of enemies, high stakes. Or at least it should've been. Unfortunately, Eddie had described a hooded traveler sitting alone by the fire.
A traveler who immediately recognized your character. A traveler who apparently knew your character's family. A traveler who had information specifically relevant to your backstory. A traveler who somehow only wanted to talk to you.
The entire table had immediately erupted. "NO."
"Dude."
"Again?"
"This is ridiculous."
Eddie had tried defending himself. "It makes sense narratively."
"No, it doesn't."
"It absolutely does."
"It absolutely doesn't."
Now, twenty minutes later, they were still arguing about it.
"I just think," Mike said, crossing his arms, "that maybe the rest of us deserve emotional character development too."
"You have emotional character development."
"When?"
"You got stabbed."
"THAT'S NOT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT."
Jeff nearly fell out of his chair laughing. Meanwhile, you were actively trying not to laugh, which wasn't helping.
Eddie noticed immediately. "You think this is funny?"
"A little."
The rest of the session dissolved into more good-natured ribbing until the guys finally started packing up their dice and minis, trading complaints about favoritism all the way out the door.
Gareth shot you both a knowing look as he left last, muttering something about "not wanting to know what happens next."
You started gathering scattered papers and pushing chairs back into place, the faint scent of dry-erase markers and lingering pizza still thick in the air.
Eddie watched you for a moment from the end of the table, that familiar wicked little smile tugging at his lips. Then he rounded the table, coming up behind you as you reached for a stray miniature.
His arms slid around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest.
"You look like this," he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear, "and they still act shocked I can't keep my hands off you." His voice dropped lower.
"Can't really blame me though. Look at you, sitting there all session like you weren't thinking about what I’d do to you once they left."
You shivered as his mouth found the side of your neck. He kissed the sensitive spot just below your ear, then scraped his teeth gently over it, sucking lightly until your breath hitched.
One of his hands splayed across your stomach, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to trace slow circles on your skin.
"Eddie," you warned, half-laughing, half-breathless. "We’re supposed to be cleaning up."
"Mm, we are," he said against your throat, kissing lower and more open-mouthed. "I’m just… multitasking."
His other hand slid down to grip your hip, pulling you back against the growing hardness in his jeans.
"Been hard half the session thinking about bending you over this table. You know that?"
You turned in his arms, intending to tell him to behave, but his mouth crashed into yours before you could. The kiss was messy and eager, all tongue and teeth, the kind that always left your lips swollen.
He backed you toward the edge of the massive wooden table, hands roaming under your shirt until he cupped your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples through your bra.
"Fuck, baby," he groaned into your mouth. "Need you. Right here. Been dying to feel how wet you get for me after I’ve been staring at you all night."
You gasped as he lifted you onto the table, shoving aside papers and a few forgotten dice that clattered to the floor. He stepped between your spread thighs, grinding against you as he tugged your shirt up and off.
His mouth returned to your neck, sucking marks you’d have to hide tomorrow, while his fingers worked your jeans open.
You reached down to palm him through his pants, earning a low, wrecked sound from deep in his chest. "Eddie…someone could come back."
"Let ‘em," he muttered, nipping at your collarbone as he pushed your jeans and panties down just enough. "Let ‘em see how fucking perfect you look when I’m buried inside you."
He dropped to his knees briefly, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss between your legs that had your head falling back with a moan. One quick, filthy lick, then he was back up, freeing himself from his jeans and lining up.
He pushed in slow at first, savoring the stretch, eyes locked on your face. "That’s it," he breathed, voice strained. "Take me so good, like you were made for this."
Once he was fully seated, he gave you barely a second before he started moving; deep, rolling thrusts that made the table creak beneath you.
Your hands fisted in his hair, legs wrapping tight around his waist as he fucked you harder, the drama room filled with the wet sounds of skin on skin and your shared, ragged breathing. He kept kissing your neck, your jaw, whispering filthy praise between thrusts.
"Love how you squeeze me… fuck, you’re dripping down my cock already. My perfect girl."
The angle had him hitting that spot inside you with every snap of his hips. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt, chasing the building heat. Eddie’s rhythm faltered as he got close, one hand slipping between you to rub tight circles over your clit.
"Come on, baby," he panted against your mouth. "Want to feel you come on me. I’ve been so good to you all night."
The combination of his words, his fingers, and the relentless drag of him inside you sent you over the edge with a cry.
He followed right after, burying himself deep and groaning your name like a prayer as he spilled inside you, hips jerking through the aftershocks.
For a long moment, you stayed tangled together, foreheads pressed close, catching your breath in the quiet room. Eddie kissed you softly, peppering kisses all over your face, jaw, and neck.
You laughed breathlessly, tugging lightly at his curls. "We’re never going to finish cleaning up at this rate."
"Worth it," he said, already leaning in for another kiss.
well, hey! hope you all enjoyed ;) i have an inquiry for you all. going forward with requests, would you prefer...
request format
make a different post (what i've been doing so far)
make the fic within the request
bea's tab pls don't press (...but ik ya'll be pressing anyway)
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Summary: New to the industry, you become paired with one of p*rn’s biggest names; Eddie “The Freak” Munson. Used to doing solo work, you can’t help but feel a little intimidated and a lot nervous. That is, until Eddie teaches you that maybe there isn’t all that much to be scared about.
Content Warning: 18+ smut, porn, porn-industry talk/mentions, pornstar!Eddie x pornstar!reader, sex work, allusion to sex, dirty talk, she/her pronouns, masturbation (m & f), use of sex toys, swearing/profanity, mentions of oral sex, actual oral sex (m & f receiving), swallowing, cum-play, handjob, digital penetration (fingering), light spanking, overstimulation, voyeurism, sex while being filmed, rough oral/face fucking, face riding, face smothering, spitting/sloppy oral sex (both m & f receiving), softdom!Eddie, mutual pining. Eddie is down bad for reader. Eddie solidifies the rumors that he's a total munch.
────────
He was supposed to be off on Sundays- practically unreachable. It was a clause in his final contract that he signed almost 11 months ago. He had Sundays off with no disruptions. No calls, no emails, no meetings- and absolutely no work. So, when his phone rang through the quiet confines of his loft-style apartment, he groaned out in frustration.
Leave me the fuck alone, Paul…
He thought, slumping further into his couch as he slung his forearm over his eyes. He had nothing on his agenda besides a well-needed nap and some light D&D manual reading. He didn’t even plan on leaving his apartment. Just that.
So, when his phone stopping ringing, Eddie let out a sigh of relief- trying to doze off again before it started ringing again. Not even a five minute pause between the last call.
Whatever he wants, he can leave a goddamn message like everyone else.
He would get to it on Monday. Maybe. If he was lucky.
But no.
On the third attempted call, Eddie jumps off the couch with a groan- stomping over to his wall phone before picking it up.
“Munson.” He murmurs gruffly as he leans against the wall impatiently.
“Eds! Jesus Christ, kid! Pick up your damn phone when I call.”
“What do you want, Paul?” Eddie drones, already wanting to be off the phone as fast as he picked it up.
“Look, kid, I know you said no Sundays but-“
“Nuh-uh.” Eddie cuts him off “No. You know the rules. The only thing I asked for when we renewed my contract was that I get to be unreachable on Sundays. This-“ Eddie gestures to the phone in his hand even though he knew his manager couldn’t see him. It was all for emphasis, really.
“This is not unreachable.” He finishes “It can wait until Monday.”
“Look, kiddo, I know what you said but I don’t think this can wait.”
“Yeah, well, it’ll have to wait. I’ll call you back tomorrow.”
“Do not hang up on me, Munson! I know you’ve only got a month left of this but at least respect me enough to hear me out when I speak to you.”
“Fine,” Eddie sighs, rubbing his temple in exasperation “What do you want?”
“I’ve got a gig for you. Trust me, kid, you’re gonna love it.”
Eddie rolls his eyes.
“Y’know, Paul, I feel like I’ve heard you say that before.” He points out.
“Nah, kid. I mean it. I’ve got something you’re gonna love. Meet me in my office in an hour.”
“What!?” Eddie exclaims “Hold on! Wait-“
But before Eddie could argue, his manager had already hung up- leaving the other end dead as he stood there in disbelief.
That fucking bastard.
────────
To say that the porn industry had made him jaded would be an understatement.
After three grueling years, a lot of fucking, faking it, and getting off enough women to start a Jim Jones-style cult- Eddie had had enough. He was retiring. For good.
The announcement to the porn industry had been a shock to everyone. Eddie “The Freak” Munson; the sex-industry’s “Prince of Porn” (Or “The Prince of Pussy” as some called him, for some odd reason) was leaving behind his legacy as the ladies’ favorite male pornstar. No one has seen anything like it. It was practically unfathomable that someone of his caliber- someone who jackhammered his way into the hearts of millions- was walking away.
To almost every man in America, Eddie “The Freak” Munson was living their dream. Eddie, however, was bored, tired, and lonely. It was fun while it lasted but he was ready to move on. You could only fuck so many blondes with huge tits and daddy kinks until it got completely played out and repetitive. It also didn’t help that, outside of filming, he wasn’t even interested in sex.
True be told, sex had become the last thing on his mind. Not that he couldn’t fuck anyone he wanted. Hell, he was sure there would be a line halfway to Europe if he did. He just didn’t see the point. It was like eating the same meal everyday for the rest of your life. You get tired of it pretty damn quick. What was the point of sex without the emotional connection? The passion? The lust? It was just a waste of time and energy.
Eddie rolled into his manager’s office an hour and a half later, taking his sweet time as he parked his van at the studio. He walks past the receptionists, sending a wink their way as he walked through to Paul’s private office suite. There have been many occasions when he overheard the girls at the front-desk fawning over him after he had just wrapped up a scene with some “up and coming” star that was completely underwhelming.
Sometimes he even thought about taking home one of the receptionists and dicking them down just to see if he felt something. That he wasn’t completely numb to getting someone else’s rocks off. But Paul would surely have his ass if he found out. Sometimes Eddie wondered why he even cared.
“Where the hell have you been?” Paul exclaims, turning towards Eddie once he walks through the door “I was just in the middle of calling you.”
Paul puts the phone down as he watches Eddie plop down into one of the chairs on the other side of his desk.
“Yeah, well, I’m here now. What are your other two wishes.” Eddie deadpans.
“You’re lucky that production pushed back today’s shoot by another hour otherwise you would’ve missed out on what the hell I even called you in for.” Paul chastises, earning an eye-roll from his client.
“Which is?” Eddie points out “You had me race across town in traffic and you haven’t even told me that the hell for. Let’s get on with it. What’s this gig you’re so obsessed about?”
“I found a girl for you.” Paul announces excitedly as if he were a matchmaker and not a manager for sex workers.
“….Okay.” Eddie replies slowly “That’s it?”
“Would you lighten up?” Paul replies incredulously “I’m getting there, okay? Just give me a minute to, you know, set the scene.”
“Paul, I don’t pay you 10% for you to ‘set the scene’ and waste my time. Let’s pick a lane here, and stick to it.” Eddie states, not mincing words. One thing he learned fast during his first year in the industry was that mincing words was what got you used up and stomped on.
“Alright. So, I found this girl. Her manager came to me. Her company is putting together a flick. Oral Fixation 5 or some shit like that. Anyway, they’re looking for a male costar for her. They want someone good. It’s the girl’s first time with a partner. She mainly does solo work. She’s a bit skittish but cute. Different than the type of girls you usually work with.”
“So, you want me to fuck an amateur?” Eddie asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“No, no. Not an amateur. She’s been on film before.”
“Has she fucked anyone on film before?” Eddie challenges, eyeing his manager judgmentally. Leave it to Paul to call him in on his day off to ask him to fuck some newbie that probably has no idea what she’s doing.
“See, that’s the thing, you wouldn’t be fucking her.” Paul explains.
“Then what would I be doing? Feeding her bon-bons?” Eddie asks.
“Like I said, it’s an oral flick. No fucking. Very simple stuff. She basically does most of the work herself. She’ll start off solo, get herself nice and ready, you come in and eat her out, make her come, she’ll suck you off, let you come on her face and voila! Done! You’ll be out of here by noon tomorrow. So, whaddya say?”
“….What does she look like?” Eddie asks, leaning forward in his seat. He would be lying if he said his interest wasn’t piqued. No actual fucking? Just some light oral work, a blowjob, and then done? Didn’t seem that bad.
“That’s why I wanted you to come in!” Paul explains “She’s here. In Studio B shooting some stuff for Hot & Horny. You can head over, give her a good look, see what she can do, and then we can book it if she makes the cut. Maybe if she’s up to your standards, we can use her for your big flick. But you have to decide today before someone else snags her. She’s cute, kid. A real looker. I don’t see her staying small for very long.”
“Really?” Eddie asks, rubbing his chin in thought.
“Really.” Paul assures him “What’re you thinkin’?”
“Alright.” Eddie sighs, standing up from his chair “Let me see her.”
────────
When he walks into Studio B, Eddie is expecting to find another cookie-cutter run of the mill porn girl. Big fake silicone tits, lip injections, and an overly-enthusiastic fake orgasm. Bonus points for bleach blonde hair. What he didn’t expect to find was you- the complete antithesis of all of the other girls he’s used to. You were a breath of fresh air.
You stood off to the side of your set- a cute little bedroom set up complete with frilly pink floral sheets, heart shaped pillows, and cute little teddy bears. Boy band posters were taped onto the fake set walls to mimic the feel of a girl’s bedroom. College student, girl-next-door. Young, hot, and sexy- and, boy, Eddie was into it. He was so fucking into it.
Production staff began setting up the scene, placing several different adult toys onto the rose-printed lacy duvet. A smorgasbord of pleasure instruments. Eddie was no stranger to solo girls scenes. He’s gotten off to many of them. But this one was different. He was sucked in- intrigued.
You were standing in a silky robe, covering up whatever production has asked you to wear. All Eddie could get a glimpse of was the thigh high white stockings with lace trim that adorned your long, sexy legs. No heels. Interesting.
You were talking to a set manager, batting your long mascara-ed eyelashes as your pink, kissable lips spread into a sweet smile. The set guy said something that got you to laugh, your head tilting back as you let out an adorable sexy laugh- your hair draping down like a luscious waterfall.
Fuck, you were hot. So, so hot.
“Told you she was a looker.” Paul chimes in as he sidles up beside Eddie- too distracted to notice that he was even in the vicinity “What are your thoughts so far?”
Eddie didn’t want to reveal his hand just yet. He didn’t want to seem too eager.
“Let me sit in for this one. I wanna see what she does.” He replies slowly, crossing his arms over his chest.
Before he knows it, the director calls you over- motioning for you to enter your set and get yourself situated on the cutesy pink bed.
Alright, Eddie thought, Show-time.
Before the cameras begin to roll, you gingerly untie the silk sash of your rope- taking it off to reveal your lingerie ensemble before handing it off to a set manager. Eddie’s mouth immediately went dry.
There you were in all of your glory, decorated head-to-toe in a baby pink lacy lingerie set that Eddie wanted to unwrap- desperately. You wore a bra that was practically see-through, your perfect tits hardly covered by the lace that adorned them. Through the fabric, he could spot your perky nipples- his mouth beginning to water at the thought of rolling his tongue around them- his hands full of your gorgeous breasts.
You wore a pair of lacy matching panties. Your beautiful cunt barely hidden beneath the fabric. Covered up just enough to leave him wanting more. Teasing him. You were a vision. You sat primly on the bed, your legs tucked to the side- like a proper lady- as you waited for your cue to start. Eddie began to move closer- not wanting to miss this.
He sidled up to the small herd of production members, standing firmly as a few of them greeted him with a nod. They were probably wondering what the hell he was doing there. He normally didn’t sit in to watch scenes. He was more known to shoot his own shit, get dressed, and leave as soon as possible. Yet, here he was, metaphorically sitting on the edge of his seat as he waited for you to start.
As if by the grace of god, the set director calls action- signaling to you that the camera was rolling. There wasn’t even a hint of intimidation as you started off slow and tantalizing. You place your fingers over your lips, blowing your signature kiss to the camera. Those lips. Those pouty, pink lips. Eddie hadn’t seen anything yet and he was already hooked- those soft kissable lips drawing him in. Soft lips that he wanted wrapped around his cock.
Continuing on with your tease, you trail up your body with your cute little hands, reaching up to your chest- gently massaging your tits through your lacy pink bra. The movement was slow and sensual, your hands kneading your perfect breasts- pushing them together seductively as you began to look straight into the lens of the camera.
Okay, Eddie thought, this was definitely not your first time doing this sort of thing.
He could tell, immediately- his eyes taking in the way that you were confident and deliberate with your touches. The way that your hands trailed up and down your body- grabbing, kneading, and tracing your irresistible curves. You were comfortable. In your element. Eddie could tell right away that, when it came to getting yourself off, you were definitely no amateur. He had barely even seen anything yet and he knew- and all he wanted was to see it in real time.
You reach up to hook your thumbs into your bra straps, sliding them off your shoulders as you bit your lip- batting those pretty eyelashes at the camera lens. Reaching behind you, you began to unclasp your bra- sliding it off agonizingly slow. Eddie’s breath hitches as his eyes lock onto your bare tits- nipples hard and perky as you playfully toss the discarded bra onto the floor beside the set bed.
Eddie couldn’t help but smirk, loving the way that you teased the camera- staring it down as if it were the viewers at home. The sad, unfortunate losers that weren’t anywhere near as lucky as he was to see it in person- to even be offered the opportunity to get on his knees to please you.
You kneel onto the bed, giving the camera a good view of your lower half- your lace panties and stockings still on. Those fucking stockings. Eddie could feel the blood circulating to his dick, causing him to grow hard against the zipper of his jeans. You had barely even done anything but play with your tits and he was already starting to leak precum.
These days, it took a lot for Eddie to physically react to things. Being overly-exposed to sex in this industry tends to do that to you. So, the sheer notion that he was getting hard and horny for you when all he had seen so far were your breasts was pretty damn close to miraculous. You were barely even into your scene and he was sure that he’d have to use one of the private dressing rooms to rub one out afterwards.
You ran your hands down your stomach, staring down the camera as you caressed lower and lower down your body until you reached the waistband of your panties, biting your lip as you plunged your right hand into the fabric. Eddie had to stop himself from groaning at the sight. He had seen plenty of women touch themselves- he was a pornstar, for fuck sake- but the way that you did it was hypnotizing. His eyes become glued to your clothed core as he focuses on the way that your fingers moved and teased yourself behind the thin fabric.
So fucking hot. So goddamn sexy.
He wanted to see more- needed to see more.
Your nimble little fingers teased your clit, working behind the thin fabric of your panties as you threw your head back in pleasure- your hair cascading down as your free hand reached up to one of your breasts. You pinched the nipple between your fingers, letting out a light little moan that had Eddie’s dick stirring beneath his boxers.
Fuck, that’s hot. Eddie thought. Keep going, baby. Show me how you do it.
As if you could read his mind from across the room, your eyes open- flickering over to him as you inch your hand further down into your panties. You insert a digit inside of your pussy, causing yourself to gasp as the sensation.
Shit.
Eddie watches your knuckles work their way inside of your cunt as he strains himself to get even just a glimpse past what’s behind those pretty lace panties. He could bet that they were fucking sopping wet by the way that your muscles didn’t tense or stutter when you inserted another finger. You probably slid it in with complete ease. Like it was nothing- and that was so incredibly hot.
It went on like this for a while. Eddie staring at your lower half as you toyed with yourself from behind the panties. Just when he thought he was on the brink of getting blue balls, you slowly slipped your fingers out of your panties- the production lights on the studio set picking up the way that your digital glistened with your arousal. It was a fucking sight. Such a sight that Eddie didn’t even think about you upping the ante- taking your drenched fingers and sliding them into your mouth, wrapping your lips around them as you sucked them clean.
Holy..fuck.
Suddenly, the director called cut- the sound of his orders causing Eddie to snap his head over in horror.
Cut? No. No, no, no, no, no! You were just getting started! What the fuck?!
“Alright, babe, second act. Lose the panties and get into position. Legs spread, okay?” The director calls out, causing Eddie to sigh in relief. You weren’t wrapping yet.
Thank god!
You nod at the director, hopping off the bed as you begin to take your panties off, sliding them down your legs. Where Eddie was standing off-set, he had the perfect view as you bent over further and further to push your underwear off. You were bend over so low that he had a full fucking view of your glistening wet pussy, and he was right- you were sopping. It took all of the fucking strength and self-control he had to not stomp onto that set, pull down his jeans to free his raging hard cock and jam it into your fucking cunt. God, he’s never wanted to fuck someone so badly in his life. He wanted to tell production to fuck your solo scene so that he could start fucking you.
You straighten up, now standing as you kicked off the panties- leaving you completely nude aside from the white thigh-high stockings. You climb back onto the bed, perched near the edge as you opened your legs- sitting spread eagle in front of the camera. Eddie was fully convinced that he was about to pass out.
That perfect little pussy. It was wet, pink, and tight. The prettiest he’s ever seen and he’s seen a lot during his career. Yours was the first to make him go weak in the knees, wanting to sink down in front of you at the edge of the bed as he spread you open and devoured you- acting as if you would be his last meal.
Production came rushing in to fix your hair, smoothing away any imperfections before running off set- gearing up for your cue. You waited patiently like a good, good girl. Hands to yourself as you awaited permission to continue and, if it were up to Eddie, he would reward you. For being so good. So patient.
The director begins rolling, cuing you in to start and Eddie was hooked and ready to see what you would do next- spread out in front of him. Your eyes catch the camera, your hands roaming down to your core as you begin to play with your clit- now uncovered. No barriers in-between. Thank god.
Your middle finger does all of the work, slowly circling your sensitive little button as you throw your head back again, letting the sensation take over you. Letting your hands freely pleasure yourself as if no one were watching- as if it really were you in your bedroom alone. That, Eddie decided, was what made it so hot. You weren't putting on a performance for anyone. There was no theatrics, no drama- no over the top acting. It was you. Just as you were. Enjoying every little bit of it- and, goddamn, was it sexy.
You let out soft little moans and gasps that went straight to Eddie’s dick, twitching in his pants at the way that you sounded. You sounded sweet- melodic. Music to his ears as your breathing picked up. He stared as you moved your fingers from your clit and down through your folds, wet and glistening as you spread your arousal all over your sex. You were drenched. In all of his life, Eddie never even thought about wanting to be an appendage, but holy shit was he jealous of your fingers.
You use one of your hands to spread yourself open for the camera, causing Eddie’s eyes to almost roll into the back of his head. He was seeing so much of you and he hadn’t even met you yet. But he couldn’t help but watch. He couldn’t look away.
You sink the middle finger of your other hand into your pussy, pushing it in until you reach your knuckle- so fucking deep with that little finger of yours. Eddie couldn’t help but want to take over, wanting to use his much bigger digits to fill you up just how you deserved.
Eddie watched as you slip another finger in, framing your soaked core with your pointer and pinky finger. The way that you touched yourself was hypnotic, putting him in a trance as you ramped yourself up closer and closer to your orgasm. Your moans grew louder, breathing heavier and more needy. Because there was something you needed- Him. Or maybe that’s delusional of him to think. But he knew that he needed you. He was hungry for you and he wanted a taste.
You begin fingering yourself, expertly delving your fingers into your pussy as you fucked yourself with your digits just the way that you liked. Eddie studies this, watching the way that you liked it- wanting to replicate it. No, he wanted to do it better. So fucking good that you couldn't even fathom the idea of anyone touching you but him. He was so drunk on your pussy and he hadn't even so much as touched it yet. He was fucked.
"Alright, angel." The director calls out, catching Eddie's attention for a moment "How about we get some footage of you with one of the toys? Get a really good build-up, climax, we'll do a closeup of the aftermath, and then we're done. Sound good?"
Toys? Eddie forgot about the toys. He was so fucked. He probably shouldn't watch this, knowing that he could very well finish in his pants- but he didn't care. He was rooted to the spot. Too addicted to move. He was drunk on you and your sexy body and your perfect pussy. He needed this. He needed to see you come undone. He needed something to think about tonight as he jacked himself off so hard that he would probably chafe. He'd have to use lube. His own spit wouldn't cut it. There's no way that he could rub himself raw when he knew that he was going to be lucky enough to be in your mouth the next day. Sucked off by those pouty pink lips.
His own thoughts and the view of you naked on that bed, toying with yourself, was becoming overstimulating. It was like an outer-body experience to watch. Even though he didn't feel like he was in his own body, he knew that there was nothing he wanted more than to be inside of yours.
His eyes are glued to the scene as you daintily reach for the toy of your choice. A purple Jack Rabbit style vibrator. You click it on, watching as the toy came to life in your hands. Eddie couldn't help but think about how much bigger he was than that stupid toy. How he would be able to reach places inside of you that the vibrator couldn't even come close to reaching. Places that you probably didn't even know existed. You deserved to be fucked like a queen. Not by some inadequate toy. Even still, he watched as you pressed the tip of the toy to your clit- causing you to gasp loudly in reaction.
Fuck, Eddie thought as he watched you slide the tip of the toy past your clit and through your folds- marveling at the way that your body shivered in reaction. The way that your body responded to pleasure was oh so delicious. Eddie was eating it up like he was starving.
He watches as the toy collects a thick coating of your arousal, making it so wet that Eddie had to bite his lip to keep from moaning.
Fuck, you were so wet.
You slide the toy back up towards your clit, pressing the tip against it harshly as your eyes fluttered shut- causing you to buck your hips.
So fucking sensitive.
You swirl the toy against your clit as you breath catches, followed by a soft moan that escaped those pretty lips.
Fuck, baby, let me hear you.
As if you could hear his thoughts, you let out a needy whine. You needed more. It wasn't enough. Not even close.
Before he could process it, you had begun to insert the toy into your pussy- falling back onto the mattress underneath you as you started to thrust it inside. Flicking your wrist with a motion that had you whimpering desperately. The vibration inside of your cunt causing your walls to contract around the vibrator- making it a tight squeeze to continue thrusting.
Eddie's eyes were wide as he watched. The sounds of your moans, the faint buzzing of the vibrator, and the wet squelching sound of your pussy completely overtaking him. Fuck, this was hot. The most erotic thing he's ever fucking seen.
You continue fucking yourself with it, picking up the pace as you sit yourself up enough to watch you fuck yourself with it.
Shit, yes! Bet you like to watch yourself get fucked, don't you?
You mouth falls open as you watch how slickly coated the toy was as you pushed it in and out of your pussy. Eddie was jealous that it wasn't his dick covered in your arousal, making it so easy for him to slide in and out of your cunt at an ungodly pace. He wanted it so fucking bad that his knees were weak.
Without warning, you finally find that spot. That perfect spot deep within you that had you going crazy. Toes curling, gasping for air, moaning out like crazy as you squeezed your eyes shut. You were close.
Fuck, baby! Just like that! Fuck, fuck, fuck!
You pushed that pathetic little toy as deep as it could go, your mouth falling into a perfect little 'O' as you got closer and closer and closer.
Show me how you like it, baby. That's right. So fucking good!
Soon you couldn't control yourself, bucking your hips as you thrusted it in and out of hole as your moans became more loud and desperate.
Fuck, sweetheart, doing so good. You're almost there. Need to watch you cum.
You began to reach your peak, practically sobbing as you kept working for it.
C'mon, baby. Give it to me. Let me see it.
And as if on cue with his dirty thoughts, you cry out in pleasure. Finally peaking as your thighs began to shake, whimpering as you came all over that stupid toy- your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave.
Fuck, yes! That's it! Fuck, you are so fucking hot! Jesus fucking Christ!
You rode out your orgasm, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. It was so fucking hot. Eddie didn't know how he had gone this long in his career without fucking you. Without knowing you existed. A perfect little sex kitten that he wanted to play with. Hell, you alone were giving him second thoughts about retiring. Not before he could fuck you in every possible way imaginable. Fuck, he was so fucking into you that he could surely invent new ways to fuck you that had never even been thought of before. He'd have to create a whole new updated version of the Kama Sutra with you as his sole muse.
"That's a wrap! You did great!"
The director praises you as you slowly begin to sit up on the bed, hair wild with a blissed-out look on your face. Eddie had never seen someone look so beautiful post-orgasm.
A member of the production crew came over to you and handed you your silk robe. You stand up with shaky legs as they helped you put it on- making yourself modest after that fucking smoke-show that you had just given everybody. Eddie didn't know how no one else was crashing down like he was. He was leaking so much precum that he would probably need new pants. But it was worth it because you were...wow.
"See? I told you." Eddie whips his head over to catch his manager standing there next to him. Had he been there the whole time? Had Eddie been talking out loud? "What do you think, kid?"
Eddie's mouth was dry. He felt dehydrated from just watching. He felt like he needed to down a gallon of water after watching you get yourself off like a fucking professional. With an intensity that he's never fucking seen before.
"Is she still available?" Eddie croaks, his heart hammering in his chest. What if another guy had swooped in and booked the gig right under his nose while he was too busy ogling at you?
"I could give her manager a call and see if it's still open. I know they reached out to a few guys. That Chris Infamous guy being one of them. The jacked up one with the muscles. You know who I'm talking about."
Chris Infamous? Over his dead fucking body!
“Paul, go call her manager right now and tell them I’m in. Like, now.”
────────
The whole way home, he had been antsy. He had waited an hour after your shoot in his manager’s office as he called up your manager in an attempt to get in touch with them. There was no luck. Paul had missed them every single time- and Eddie made him leave a voicemail every…single…time. He couldn’t let this opportunity slip through his hands.
Eddie tried to busy himself with his previous plans that he had before leaving his loft earlier that day but he just couldn’t focus. The words in his Dungeons and Dragons player manual just blended together and his mind would wander off, causing him to read the same sentence over and over again.
He couldn’t keep his mind off of you. Your soft, supple body wrapped up in that pink lingerie. Those goddamn white stockings that you had kept on the entire shoot. The way your pussy glistened with your arousal underneath the production lights. Eddie was addicted- transfixed. He needed to do this scene with you.
He throws down his player’s manual, tossing his head back onto the couch. He stares up at the ceiling as he lets out a frustrated grunt. Waiting back for a response was torture. He just needed a yes or a no- hopefully a yes. God, he was hoping for a yes. But if the gig was taken, he wished he would know sooner rather than later in order to kill the anticipation.
He reaches onto the coffee table for his pack of cigarettes, pulling one out and placing it between his lips before lighting it. He took a couple of drags, the taste of nicotine barely doing anything to calm his nerves. He was so pent up. He had been ever since your scene. He was hot and bothered.
His mind drifts back to thoughts of you. Your perfect tits that would fit perfectly in his hands. Your perky nipples that he wanted to roll his tongue against, tasting them. But he mostly thought about your sex. What you would taste like. He imagined that you would be sweet- candy-coated beneath his tongue as he ate you up. Liquified sugar in the best way.
Eddie could feel his cock twitch beneath his pants as he fantasized- wanting to bury his head between your soft thighs as he worked his tongue against you so ferociously like it would be the last thing he’d ever do. He’d never wanted someone as bad as he wanted you- wishing that he could toy with your sensitive little button with the tip of his tongue. Teasing you until you begged for more.
Eddie began to unbutton his pants, feeling the ache in his cock that was dying to be satiated. He needed a release. His head was so full of you that he needed to do something to quell the heat that he felt in his groin. He needed to cum.
He pulls down his zipper, feeling a sense of relief as the pressure of the metal enclosure against his hard cock was finally removed. It was like releasing a long, pent-up sigh. He was painfully hard. Practically throbbing underneath his boxers as he slides his hand down past the fabric, gripping himself as he attempts to pull his dick out. He winces at the sensitivity he felt on his cock head.
When he pulls his dick free from his jeans, he looks down to find that his tip was nearly red, angry at the lack of attention that it was receiving. It had been a long time since Eddie had touched himself. He normally didn’t have to with the kind of work that he did. But this was different, he needed this. He needed relief.
He wraps his hand around his length, slowly moving it up and down the way that he liked but his member felt nearly hot to the touch. He was so worked up that it had made him ultra-sensitive to every little thing. Every stroke, every little flick of his wrist. He could feel everything with ten times more intensity than normal. And, god, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to jack himself off to completion on his living room couch. No, he wanted to sink his desperately hard cock into the velvety soft walls of your incredible cunt.
A pearl of precum leaks out of his tip, slowly dripping down until he collects it with his finger-swiping it up to use as lubricant and he began to buck his hips into his hand. It shouldn’t be his hand. It should be you. He didn’t want to settle for anything that wasn’t you. But he’d have to until he hopefully got the real thing.
“Ah! F-fuck!” He gasps as he picks up a faster pace, wanting to reach his peak as quickly as possible. He was desperate for it. He was needy and fucked out by the images of you that kept playing out in his head.
You on the bed with your legs spread wide open for him, ready to take whatever it was that he was willing to give you like the good girl you would be. Like the good girl he just knew that you were. He stroked himself fast and hard as he thought about how he’d want you to take his cock. He wanted your legs slung over his shoulders as he pounded into you hard enough to have you sobbing. He wanted to wrap his hand around your throat and jerk you back onto his cock as he fucked you from behind. He wanted to fuck you like a whore. Like you were made for it.
“Fuck, baby…” Eddie whimpers, more precum oozing from his tip as he imagined that it was your hand instead of his. Stroking him with those soft little hands of yours as you stared him down with those gorgeous eyes. Marveling at just how crazy you could drive him- at just how badly he wanted you.
“Shit….just like that, sweetheart. Fuck.”
Eddie could feel himself getting close, his breathing picking up faster and faster until they became needy grunts- trying to chase his high.
“Shit, shit, holy fuck…”
He kept stroking and he wouldn’t stop until he got there. Not when all he could think about was just how hot you looked when you orgasm. When all he wanted was to fuck you so good that you had to beg him to stop. How he wanted to make you cum on his cock over and over again until you couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to take you apart just to put you back together again.
Just when he was ramping up to his finish, a few seconds away from blowing his load into his hand, the phone rings- snatching him right out of his fantasies.
Fuck. No!
He growls in frustration, jumping off the couch as he stumbles towards the phone- barely stuffing his angry cock back into the confines of his jeans. A denim-clad prison.
“What?” He huffs as he picks up the phone, his breathing still heavy and ragged from touching himself.
“Eddie, listen, I got in touch with her management.”
“Fuck!” He sighs in relief, resting his back against the wall. “What’d they say?”
“They were pretty psyched that you wanted in, kid. Turns out you were first choice for them. Which is great because they were an inch away from giving the gig to Chris. Good thing I called when I did. Anyway, you got the gig. They’re excited. The girl’s excited.”
You were excited? Wait…You knew who he was?
“Wait, she knows who I am?” Eddie stammers, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
“Oh yeah.” Paul laughs “Apparently she’s a huge fan.”
“Fuuuck. No shit?” He asks, trying to fight the grin on his face. He felt on-top-of the-world fucking incredible.
“Have you ever known me to pull your leg, kid? She asked for you specifically. By name. Lucky you, playboy!”
Yeah, Eddie thought. No fucking kidding!
“She asked…for me?” He still couldn’t believe it. You were out-of-this-world gorgeous and you wanted him to be your first on-screen partner? Eddie hadn’t experienced an ego-boost this big since…well, ever.
“Yeah, kid. First on her list. She was worried we wouldn’t accept what her management was offering but I told her we’d make it work.”
Fuck, he would do it for free.
Wait…
“You spoke to her?” Eddie asks, jaw practically hitting the floor.
“Oh yeah,” Paul replied “She personally returned my calls. Wanted to thank us for accepting.”
“No fucking way.” Eddie swoons. It just kept getting better.
“She also wanted me to tell you that she hoped you were impressed at the shoot today. She said she was a little nervous when she saw you but hopefully you didn’t notice.”
You...naughty…little…minx. You had known that he was there the entire time? Fuck….
“Anyway, call time for tomorrow is eight a.m.” Paul adds “And Eddie?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t fucking be late.”
────────
The next morning, Eddie had woken up early.
Not because he had something to do or somewhere to be. No vastly important errands that he needed to run. Eddie had woken up early because his body couldn’t stand to stay dormant and asleep any longer. Because, for once in a long time, his reality was better than sleep. He had something to look forward to- you.
He had never felt this way before, never took his work too seriously- honestly, what was there to take seriously? He just showed up, fucked, picked up his check, and went home. He never put much thought into things. He just did them. But today was different. Today, he seemed to be putting too much thought into everything.
He agonized over whether or not to drink coffee, worried that the caffeine might make him come off hyper or on edge when he finally had the opportunity to speak to you. He debated foregoing breakfast, giving himself an excuse to invite you out to post-work brunch if things really took off between you two. This was the start of all of his worries. The closer it got to his call time, he got more and more in his own head.
He was suddenly hyper-aware of everything about himself. Anything that you could nit-pick when you finally met. Did you like tattooed guys? What if you didn’t? Would you think his tattoos were stupid? Did you prefer guys with short hair as opposed to long hair? What if he wasn’t your type at all in the slightest and none of this even really mattered? It only got worse by the minute.
Then he reminded himself that you knew him. You’ve seen his work. You were a fan. There was obviously something you must have liked if you chose him out of any other guy in the industry. You were so pretty that you could have requested anyone you wanted- and you chose him. Eddie desperately wanted to know why.
He prepped and primped himself in the bathroom like a teenage girl. He took extra care in the shower, scrubbing every inch of himself vigorously with the soap that smelled extra good.
He washed and conditioned his hair. Hell, he actually brushed it and applied product instead of just running his fingers through it and calling it good. He fucking styled it- putting it into a low bun with a hair tie that he found in his medicine cabinet. He knew just how much wearing his hair up drove women crazy- and he hoped that you weren’t any exception.
He paid extra attention to his downstairs area, making sure that he was perfectly trimmed and proper for you. The last thing he wanted was for you to get on your knees for him and be met with an unkempt jungle. He wanted things to be neat and tidy. He also hoped that landscaping the bush would make his dick appear prettier- something that you’d want to put in your mouth.
An hour before his call time, he was shaking like a leaf. He felt like he was in high school again, nervous and skittish around the female population of Hawkins High. Which was ironic considering what he does for a living these days. Over the years following graduation and leaving that hellhole, Eddie had begun to gain a sense of self-confidence. His demeanor changed.
He became sure of himself, finally believing that he was worth women’s attention. That he was far more attractive than he initially gave himself credit for- and the critical feedback on his work as a porn actor definitely proved that. If twenty year-old Eddie could see just how many women would flip their shit over him, he’d have probably dropped dead in disbelief. But none of those women mattered. None of the porn girls that he had previously filmed with mattered. Even the girls from Hawkins didn’t matter anymore. You mattered.
The whole drive to the studio was anxiety-inducing. Multiple people tried to cut him off on the freeway- gotta love L.A. traffic. Some douchebag in a fucking Corvette flipped him off because he forgot to use his blinker, which seemed to worsen Eddie’s mood as he just kept overthinking himself. How was he supposed to talk to you, let alone shoot a scene, when he couldn’t even drive straight?
When he finally pulled up to the studio and parked his van, Eddie was officially a wreck. He had no idea what to do with himself. You were probably already inside trying to pretty yourself up for your scene together. Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what you would wear- hell, why did he even care if you wore anything at all?
He wondered if you were just as nervous as he was. Granted, you had an excuse. This would be your first scene with a partner, meanwhile, this wasn’t anywhere close to Eddie’s first rodeo. Yet, he felt like a virgin on prom night.
He enters the studio, trying to act normal as the front desk girls greet him. Even the choruses of “Hi Eddie…” in their seductive voices weren’t enough to get him out of his own head. He just gave a small wave and a slight tinge of a smile on his lips. Normally he would’ve leaned up against the receptionist desk and flirted- given them just a scrap of his attention. But not today. Not when he felt like he was going to be sick.
He drifted all the way back to Paul’s office, casually knocking on the door a couple of times before letting himself in. His manager looks up from his desk, suddenly adopting a confused look on his face once he laid eyes on Eddie.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” Paul asks, tilting his head in confusion.
The comment takes Eddie aback, immediately causing his stomach to drop. Was he missing something? He was supposed to be here…right? Then he felt the dread seep in.
Fuck. The shoot’s cancelled. No way. There is no…fucking…way.
“I…uh…I’m confused.” Eddie replies slowly, shaking his head as he tries to keep it together. This could not be happening.
“Aren’t we shooting today? I came before call time. Did they fucking cancel?” He panics, running his ring-clad fingers through his hair in agony. Fuck!
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down.” Paul says “Nobody cancelled. Shoot’s still on.”
“But…I thought…you said you were surprised that I’m here.” Eddie tries to reason.
“Yeah,” Paul nods, looking at Eddie as if he were nuts “I’m surprised that you’re here before call time. I’ve managed you for the past three years and I can barely remember a time when you’ve ever shown up on time. Let alone early.”
“Oh.” Eddie replies, dumbfounded.
Well, at least the shoot is still on.
“Are you wearing cologne?” Paul asks, looking Eddie up and down as he stood awkwardly in front of his desk.
“Oh.” Eddie breathes “Yeah.”
That has Paul even more confused. Eddie always smelled nice but it was always just his natural scent- laundry detergent, a woodsy musk from the deodorant he wore, and a hint of cigarette smoke. Eddie never deliberately put on cologne unless he was trying to impress someone- and Paul knew this.
“Alright, well…” Paul starts, not knowing what to say to make things less awkward than it already was “Your leading lady is here. Dressing room A.”
“She’s here already?” Eddie gapes, taken by surprise. He thought he had more time to prepare. For what? He didn’t know.
“Yeah, kid. Unlike you, the leading lady happens to know a thing or two about punctuality. Speaking of which, why don’t you go see how she’s doing? Bet she’s sweating like a sinner in church. First time on-camera partner and all that.”
“Do you think she’s nervous?” Eddie asks, out of concern but mostly to gauge if you could be nervous because of him.
“No idea, kid, but it would be nice for you to have a conversation with each other. You know, before you stick your dick in her mouth.” Paul suggests.
To which, he had a great point. Eddie probably should go and say hi. Hopefully he can pull himself together enough to be charming and personable for you. Or, if anything, at least make you feel a bit more comfortable with him before he went down on you in front of a whole camera crew. This could either go very well for him or become a complete disaster.
────────
Eddie stood outside of your dressing room door, his body so tense that he felt like stone. On the other side of this door was you- the girl of his wet dreams that he somehow, begrudgingly, didn’t know existed until yesterday. To say that he was nervous would be an understatement. Eddie’s stomach felt like it was tied in knots and the last thing he wanted was for you to see that he was nervous. No, he had to play it cool- confident and sure of himself. He could do this. Even if it was all a facade.
He begins to knock, so nervous that he could practically break into a sweat over it. He was definitely glad that he decided to wear cologne today but then Eddie began to worry that maybe the cologne would make it seem like he was trying too hard. He was worried that you could sense it and that it would turn you off. Turning you off was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.
He could hear shuffling from behind the door, the sound growing closer before the handle turned and the door swung open- revealing you. All dolled up with completed hair and makeup. Wearing that short little silk robe. As soon as you saw him, your face broke into a smile.
Okay, Eddie thought, that’s a good sign.
“Hey,” he smiles, trying to be smooth but it was so fucking hard when you looked at him with those eyes “I’m Eddie. I’m…uh…I’m your scene partner for today.”
Not that he had to introduce himself. You knew exactly who he was. You had gotten off to his scenes more times than you could count.
“Right, of course!” You exclaim, extending out your hand in greeting as you introduced yourself to him. Eddie raised his eyebrows when he noticed that you hadn’t given him your porn name. No, you had given him your real name.
“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you….properly.” Eddie jokes, causing you to laugh. God, he loved the way your lips curled into a smile- how your eyes lit up. You were so damn pretty.
“Me too.” you nod, looking at him for a beat too long to be accidental. With a cheeky little glint in your eyes as you casually looked him up and down.
Oh, Eddie thought, so we’re flirting now?
“You mind if I come in? Or are you going to make me hang out in the hallway?” Eddie teases “Which I wouldn’t mind. As long as you keep looking at me like that.”
Your heart flutters in your chest “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.” You bite your lip nervously- and, boy, does Eddie notice.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” He smirks “So, you gonna let me in or?”
“Right!” You shake your head “Come in.”
You step aside, letting him walk through the door before closing it for privacy. Not that you expected anything to happen. Not off-camera, at least.
Eddie walks over and sinks down onto the small loveseat that was against the wall in the dressing room. He sits seductively, legs spread apart as he leans back on the sofa like he owned it. Honestly, he was so charming that he could tell you that he did, indeed, own it and you’d believe him. You, on the other hand, sank down into the hair and makeup chair across from him.
“So, I…uh….I should probably say thank you for accepting. My management probably already told you but it’s my first time doing a scene with someone else. I normally do solo work.”
“So I’ve seen.” Eddie replies, a cocky smirk on his lips. He wanted you to know that he had seen you in action. Not that he needed to tell you. No, he just wanted to remind you of the fact.
“So, my manager might have told me that you had requested me specifically…..by name.”
As soon as the words left his lips, your face began to heat up in embarrassment. “He told you that?”
“Mhm.” Eddie hums, his eyes devouring you.
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry,” Eddie smiles slyly “I was pretty flattered, actually. Not gonna lie, it kinda gave me a big head.”
And, to tell you the truth, I wanna show you my big head, Eddie wanted to say.
But he didn’t want to come off crude and overtly sexual during your first meeting.
“Really?” You mumble bashfully, trying to look anywhere but at Eddie but it was so hard when he was so fucking hot.
“Yeah.” He confirms “Especially coming from a girl like you. So, tell me, sweetheart….why me?”
The sound of his deep, sexy voice calling you sweetheart was enough to make you light-headed. Lord have mercy….
“Well,” you sigh “My management really started to float the idea of me doing stuff with a co-star. They thought it might push my career a bit more and give me more opportunities. To be honest, I wanted to do it but I didn’t want to do it with just anyone. So, I told them that I would only agree to do it as long as I could pitch at least one guy that I thought I could feel…comfortable with.”
You thought you could feel comfortable with him. You had chosen him because there was something about him that you felt was different than all of the other porn guys. You were far too shy to admit it but Eddie was your favorite male pornstar. You didn’t know what it was about him but he just felt safe. Like you wouldn’t be completely in your head if you were to work with him.
You had seen so much of his stuff that you had witnessed exactly how he treated other girls-putting their pleasure first so much so that he made sure to at least get them off twice before he finished, himself. It wasn’t just that but how soft he seemed with them. Like every one of them and how they felt was important. For your first time, you didn’t want to feel like a piece of meat. You wanted to feel cared for. You were certain that Eddie Munson would be the perfect guy to pop your first-time cherry with. He didn’t want to settle for anything else.
“I make you feel comfortable?” He asks, looking at you in a way that had you on the brink of melting into your seat. However, truth be told, it was Eddie who was trying not to lose his shit. You felt comfortable with him. You had chosen him because there was something different about him than the others. You felt something.
“That’s, uh, really flattering.” Eddie clears his throat, trying to stifle the very turned-on moan that he felt coming. "Can I maybe ask why you feel comfortable with me? Y'know, so I can lean into it while we're shooting the scene?"
And so I can use it as spank bank material tonight…
“Well, I don't really know what it is exactly.” You begin, wringing your hands nervously in your lap “I guess it’s the vibe you give off. I’ve seen your stuff and I just….there’s something about how you treat the other girls that makes me feel like I’d be safe. Cared for, I guess.”
“Okay, yeah." He nods.
Keep it together, Eddie. Jesus Christ...
“I want to make sure you feel cared for. It's important to me. Especially it being your first time. I'm really flattered."
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah, of course. How could I not be?' Eddie admits “You're, like, super gorgeous....and you picked me, for some reason."
He says it as if he's not one of the most sought after guys in the industry. Like he was nobody. Like he couldn't have a harem of girls hanging all over him if he wanted to.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m looking forward to it. Making you feel cared for...and safe."
"Thanks, Eddie." You reply bashfully "That means a lot to me."
"Um....so....since we're being truthful and shit...can I admit something?" He asks, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
"Yeah." You agree "Absolutely. Safe space and all." You smile and, god, it makes Eddie's dick so hard.
"I...uh...I've kinda got a little crush on you." He blurts out before he can back out of saying it.
"Oh." You breathe, your eyes widening in surprise "You have a crush...on me?"
Eddie fucking Munson just admitted that he had a crush on you.
"...Yeah." He winces "I've kinda been down bad for you since yesterday."
"Really?" You repeat "Me?"
"Why do you keep saying it like it's hard to believe or something?" Eddie laughs.
"I mean....because it is. You're...you know..."
"I'm what?" He pushes, wanting to hear you say it.
"You're Eddie 'The Munch' Munson, for god's sake."
"Jesus fucking Christ," Eddie laughs "That’s a new one."
"I mean...it's not not factual." You argue "When you...you know...eat pussy like that....you could have basically any girl that you want."
"Hm." Eddie hums, as if he were doubting it.
"Oh please," You tease "Don't act all modest. You know you're gifted."
"Oh, I am, am I?" He flirts, a cheeky smirk spreading across his lips.
"As if you don't know." You scoff, trying to avoid his gaze. But how could you when he was so hot?
"Well, sweetheart, that's really flattering coming from you." He compliments "At least I know that I have a pretty good chance of pleasing you later."
The comment went straight to your core, causing you to shift in the hair and makeup chair as you clamp your thighs together. You tried to be inconspicuous about the fact that him and his words had such a strong effect on you, but Eddie's eyes shift to your long, sexy legs as you crossed them in your seat. His lips curl into another smirk. He was loving this.
"Don't look at me like that." You practically whisper, your face heating up bashfully.
"Like what?" Eddie teases, that fucking shit-eating-grin still plastered on his face.
"I don't know. Like-"
"Like I wanna eat you?" Eddie interjects, raising an eyebrow at you seductively.
Cocky asshole....
"What if I do wanna eat you, sweetheart?" He asks, leaning forward as he rests his elbows on his knees, staring you down.
"I-"
"'Cause I do. As a matter of fact, since this is a safe space and all, I'm going to tell you that I wanna eat you so fucking bad. Real bad."
You were so fucking wet. Holy fucking shit.
"And if I'm being real honest, baby, I wanna eat you so good that I make you cry. But I get the feeling that you just might like that."
"Eddie..."
"But only if you want me to." He adds "I don't wanna misinterpret anything."
He couldn't misinterpret anything if he fucking tried. How you felt about him was so fucking obvious.
"Anyway," He says, quickly standing from his seat on the sofa. “I should probably go freshen up for you. Y'know, seeing as I'm about to get really lucky in the next..." He checks his watch "Thirty minutes."
He looks up from his watch, his big brown eyes falling upon you- drinking you in.
"See you out there, Princess."
────────
You were so fucking nervous. You stood off-set, watching as production set up lighting- making sure there was the right amount of brightness on the scene stage. The set was a small brick-walled room with an expensive looking black leather sofa in the middle. White shag rug underneath it and some vibrantly green foliage plants in the background.
It was reminiscent of those “casting couch” scenes that porn companies liked to shoot- but this one was classy. Not cheap and sleazy. Like it was the middle of someone’s living room- a glimpse into a private passionate moment between a couple and not just two strangers fucking. Eddie Munson was going to eat you out on that couch. The thought of it made you somehow even wetter than you already were.
Just as you were allowing yourself to get lost in the fantasy, you feel a large hand on your waist- causing you to look over to find Eddie standing next to you. Staring at you with softness in his eyes.
“Doing okay?” He asks, searching your face for any indication that you weren’t, indeed, doing okay.
“I’m okay.” You breathe shakily “Just a little nervous.”
“Don’t be.” Eddie whispers, leaning into you so intimately that only you could hear “There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s just me. You’re safe with me, okay?”
And somehow those five little words felt like they’ve lifted so much weight off of your shoulders. He was right. It was just him. You could trust him.
“Okay.” You whisper, looking into his warm, brown eyes. Everything was going to be okay.
“How about this…” he starts, beginning to think “If things become too much or you need to stop, I want you to tap my arm twice. I’ll get them to cut and we’ll take a break.”
“Won’t they get mad?” You ask, your voice tiny and uncertain.
“It doesn’t matter.” He states “What matters is that you’re comfortable. This is about you, sweetheart. Without you, there’s no scene. You have the upper-hand. You are in control here. Nothing happens here that you don’t want to happen. Understand?”
“Yeah.” You nod “Okay.”
“You trust me?”
“I trust you, Eddie.”
“Good.” He nods “Because there’s nothing to worry about. If things start to get overwhelming with everyone watching just close your eyes and just focus on feeling, okay? That’s my job. To make you feel good.”
You didn’t think it was possible to be even wetter than you had been before but Eddie being sweet on you had practically opened up a floodgate inside of you. If it weren’t for the scene, you’d throw yourself at him right there.
“Well, hopefully I’m able to return the favor.” You say “I’ve never done that before…on camera.”
You were alluding to giving him a blowjob. It’s not like you haven’t given blowjobs to ex-boyfriends and casual hookups before. But this was different. You would be sucking off Eddie Munson- a man that’s probably received far too many blowjobs to count. He’s probably experienced some mind-blowing shit and there’s no way that you’d ever be able to compare to what other porn girls have been able to do to him with their mouths. You were embarrassed to even try.
“Sweetheart, I’m sure you’ll do just fine, trust me. I’m not picky.” He laughs “Blowjobs are like pizza. Even when it’s not the best pizza, it’s still good because it’s pizza. Not that I expect you to be bad or anything.”
“…I don’t know if that’s supposed to be encouraging or not.” You reply, starting to retreat back into your own head.
“Sweetheart, what I’m trying to say is that it’s going to be fine. Don’t think too much about it.”
“But how could I not think about it when-“
You were cut off by Eddie grabbing for your hand, squeezing it affectionately as he looked into your eyes.
“I thought said you trusted me.” He points out, raising an eyebrow at you.
“I do.” You reply hastily “I just-“
“Like I said, focus on feeling. When we get to that part, I just want you to focus on what feels right. Things will be fine. Honestly, there’s also nothing sexier than a girl that’s into it, y’know?” Eddie explains “You don’t have to be the best at something. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you enjoy doing it and I want you to enjoy yourself. ‘Kay?”
“Okay.” You nod, letting his words sink in.
“Also, sweetheart, with lips like those, I’m sure you suck cock like a champ but I guess I’ll just have to wait to find out.”
Your heart skips a beat at his dirty confession and you almost think about smacking his arm before one of the production managers approaches you.
“You’re on in five.” They say “Start stripping down and we’ll get you on set.”
You felt your blood run cold.
“Hey,” Eddie whispers, voice low as he strokes your back with one of his large hands “If it gets to be too much just look at me, okay? I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here the entire time.”
You take a deep breath before nodding. Eddie gives your hand another squeeze before letting you walk to take your place on set. He had successfully gotten you out of your head even just a little bit. Now Eddie just had to get himself out of his own head about cumming too soon.
────────
Eddie stands back near the camera as the director calls action. He had been watching you like a hawk, eyes peeled for any sort of sense that you were beginning to panic. He stared as you dropped your robe, handing it off before gingerly taking a seat onto the black leather sofa.
“Alright, start off slow like you normally do. Take as much time as you need. Start off with slowly taking the panties off. We’ll do some light touching, maybe some fingering. Get yourself nice and ready then Eddie’s gonna come in and take care of you.”
Hearing those words immediately felt soothing to you.
You look over towards the camera and lock eyes with Eddie. He was right there like he told you he would be. He winks at you, setting off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.
You began to follow directions, waiting for the director to give you the okay before you started. Then you began to do what felt right. Just like you were doing a solo masturbation scene. You began to touch and caress your body, getting yourself worked up as you got into the scene.
You began with your breasts, reaching your hands up as you began to knead them through the red lacy bra that you had chosen for this scene- something that made you feel sexy and confident. In your head you began to repeat it like a mantra.
You were sexy and confident.
You are sexy.
You are confident.
You could do this.
You push your tits together, thumbs rubbing over your nipples through the lace bra and you gasped at the feeling. You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to be in the moment and just feel. Just like Eddie had told you.
Eddie, on the other side of the set, was watching. His eyes were hyper-fixated on every little thing. The way your soft hands roamed your supple body and you tossed your head back in pleasure as you teased yourself. He was too far away but he was sure that you were letting out the tiniest little moans as you touched and squeezed and felt your sexy body with gentle hands.
Eddie had been halfway hard all morning but now his cock was starting to respond to every little thing you did. Every pinch, every grasp, every flick of your fingers against your tits. He could’ve sworn that it was starting to get hot in there and your bra wasn’t even off yet.
“Okay, honey, start to naturally drift down more. Get to the panties and take them off. We want it nice and slow, alright? Tease the camera.”
Tease the camera? Eddie definitely won’t be lasting long enough for the planned cum shot if you kept going on like that. But he didn’t dare say it out loud. He didn’t want to immediately gain a reputation for finishing fast even when he had so much pornographic proof out there that he wasn’t a fast shooter. You were the first girl in the industry that made him worry that he was going to finish in his pants as soon as he got a taste of you.
Nevertheless, your hands began to drag down, lower and lower until they reached the waistband of your panties. Red lace just like the bra. You didn’t even have to feel yourself to know that you were ready to go. You knew as soon as you had locked your eyes on Eddie from where he stood off-set that you were going to be drenched. But your right hand still delved into your panties, swiping at your folds as you felt just how wet you were.
Eddie watched, heart pounding as he stared at your hand down your little red panties-playing with your sopping wet core until you slowly removed your fingers. Drawing them out to reveal a thin coating of your arousal. Eddie’s breath hitched as your eyes bore into him. You were staring at him. Your gaze was locked in on him. All of this was for him.
You bring your slick fingers to your mouth, maintaining eye contact as you popped them into your mouth, sucking them nice and clean.
Fuck, you dirty girl….
Eddie’s dick begins to strain against his jeans at the action. God, was he ready to find out what you tasted like. He couldn’t take the teasing and direct eye-contact for much longer. He was so fucking ready for you.
Meeting the expectations of the director, you slip your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, seductively shimmying your hips as you pulled them down tantalizingly slow- agonizingly slow. Eddie watches with greedy eyes.
You laid back onto the sofa, panties wrapped around your thighs as you begin to lift your legs up, pulling the wet lacy fabric the rest of the way down your legs that were lifted slightly into the air- giving the camera a nice view of your pussy. Thighs pressed together in a way that had Eddie staring hungrily. He wanted so badly to sink down to his knees and hold those legs up like that as he ate you. The sight was mesmerizing.
After the lacy panties were off, you flung them across the set- right in Eddie's direction and he swore he saw a cute little smirk on your face when you did it. God, you were so naughty- and he was going to teach you a lesson.
"Okay, honey, now lay back on the couch. Spread your legs. Great! Perfect! Can we get some finger action in there?"
Eddie realizes just how well you follow directions as your body melts into the back of the couch, bringing your legs up onto it as you open them for the camera- spreading them open for everyone to see and, god, it was a fucking sight that was so fucking unholy. Yet, Eddie couldn't look away. Not when you were bare and spread out in front of him for his eyes to feast upon. That gorgeous body, those lace-clad tits, that glistening wet pussy. You were going to fucking kill him.
Just when he thought it couldn't get any hotter, you looked off near the camera- eyes trained on his as you used your fingers to spread yourself open for him. He could have passed out right there.
Fuck, he was really gonna give it to you.
He was going to devour every fucking inch of that tight little pussy until you were screaming. Fuck the cameras, fuck the scene, fuck everyone who was watching. They didn't matter. All that mattered was what he wanted to fucking do to you.
Your fingers began to tease your hole as you glided them up and down your slit. You were so fucking wet that it was making Eddie weak in the knees. Your sopping wet pussy was none other than a holy altar in which he wanted to bow down and worship. Eddie wasn't religious but you were a fucking goddess that he would devote his entire fucking life praying to if you let him.
You began to play with yourself, using your fingers to rub your needy little clit in slow circles. You threw your head back against the back of the sofa as you close your eyes. Focusing on feeling. Making yourself feel good. Getting yourself nice and wet for Eddie.
Eddie.
Eddie fucking Munson with his huge fucking cock and his soft-looking lips and those big brown eyes. How he made you feel. So cared for, so safe. Your fingers begin to work your clit a bit rougher. You had seen him on screen so many times fucking so many girls and now it was finally going to be you. His head between your thighs. His tongue in your folds. Sucking on your clit. It was getting you so fucking worked up.
You insert two fingers into your pussy as you begin to fuck them into yourself. You let your mind take over, moans tumbling from your lips as you try to fuck yourself with your fingers as deep as you can- wanting to hit that spot within yourself that had you curling your toes.
You shove them as deep as you go, trying to reach it but you just couldn’t. It felt like something was missing. But you kept trying. It felt good, of course it did, but you couldn’t help but feel like something was off. Like you were struggling. Now you were beginning to wonder if closing your eyes and thinking about Eddie was what did you in.
You had no issues in the past with using your fingers on yourself to get the relief you needed but now they just felt inadequate. As if they suddenly weren’t enough. It was so odd. Was Eddie jinxing you? Were you maybe more nervous than you originally thought? Were you-
“Alright, honey, how are we doing?” The director asks, bellowing out to you from behind the camera. “You look good, babe. Gorgeous. We’re going to add Eddie in. Are you ready?”
You look over at Eddie as he begins to strip off his shirt, his brown curls still tied back in a low bun. As he removes his t-shirt, you can’t help but stare- zoning in on his sexy, toned body. He was so fucking hot. Just when you thought you couldn’t be more turned on by him, he looks up at you- making sure that you were okay. That you were comfortable.
You both lock eyes, staring at each other with so much sexual tension that the whole room could probably feel it. You wanted Eddie Munson so bad- his body, his mouth, this hands touching all over you. You wanted him so bad that your body felt hot to the touch. He had been your industry crush for so long and now you were going to have his mouth on you- tasting you.
You give the director the okay, still spread out on the couch. As Eddie prepares to join you on-set, he can’t help the way that his eyes wander over your beautiful body. Your perky tits, your long legs, your pretty face, your sexy curves- but, most of all, your glistening wet sex. You were practically dripping with arousal as he shamelessly stared at you- the most gorgeous angel he’s ever laid eyes on. He hadn’t even gotten his mouth on you yet and he knew that he was in for trouble.
“Alright, you’re on.” The director nods towards him, giving Eddie his cue. It was the moment that he had been thinking about for hours.
His hardened cock was surely very noticeable beneath his black jeans. He could’ve sworn that there was so much blood rushing to his dick that he would pass out from the sheer lack of it being anywhere else in his body- and it was only getting worse with the way that you were looking at him. As if he were the most delectable man on the planet. Which, you would have to admit, was pretty accurate.
Your eyes stay glued to him and the pure fucking sex god that he is as he crosses onto the set, introducing himself to the scene. You loved the way that the black denim of his jeans hugged his waist. You loved the silver chain that dangled against his right hip as he strode over to you. You loved the soft tufts of dark hair that made up the happy trail leading down into the waistband of his pants. Eddie Munson was a fucking dream. He was a king- and you wanted to be his queen.
“Hey, you.” He whispers, eyes on you as he sinks down onto his knees in front of you “Doing okay? Not nervous?”
He was checking on you. Fuck, there was no way this man could be any hotter.
“I’m okay.” You whisper back “Just a little overwhelmed.”
The way that Eddie looked at you with those chocolate brown eyes made you want to melt.
“Yeah?” He asks, voice still low enough for only you to hear- sharing this intimate moment with you only.
“Just a little.” You answer. You were trying not to focus on your nerves but you could feel the space that they occupied in your body.
“Everything’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. Just close your eyes and relax. I’m here to take care of you.” He says, his eyes warm “Remember what I said? If it gets to be too much just focus on me. Just forget that anyone’s even here. Okay?”
“Okay.” You whisper back, staring at him as you nod.
“Good.” He says “Now, how can I help you get comfortable? What do you need? Hm?”
God, he was making you so wet…
“….I….I, uh, can you use-“ You immediately felt embarrassed, your face flushes as you try to look away from him.
“Hey, hey, hey…” He tsks “Eyes on me. Look at me, angel.” He reaches for you, taking your chin in-between his thumb and forefinger- guiding you to look at him. “Tell me what you want. It’s just you and me here. It’s just us. Okay?”
“Okay.” You bite your lip, nodding along.
“Say it.” He demands, maintaining eye contact “I want to hear you say it. Need to know that you’re with me. That it’s just me and you in this room right now. Nobody else. Just us, okay? Tell me.”
“I….It’s just us.” You breathe, your body feeling as if it were on fire from the intimacy “You and me. No one else.”
“That’s right, sweetheart. Just you and me. Now, tell me, what….do you….need?”
What did you need?
“You, Eddie. I need you.” You gasp lightly, causing his lips to form into a smirk.
“What do you need me to do?” He asks “Gotta use your words or I won’t be able to understand.”
“I want….I need you to kiss me. Please?”
Eddie lets of a short, low growl from the back of his throat as his hands fly to your waist, grasping tightly as he jerked you towards him- wanting you closer.
“C’mere, baby.” He rasps, straightening his body to become level with yours before he uses one of his large hands to grab the back of your neck- pulling you into a rough, hungry kiss that was so intense that it could have knocked the air out of you.
And Eddie fucking Munson was an amazing kisser.
The way that his lips slotted and molded against yours. The way that his mouth moved against yours as he nipped and licked and sucked at your bottom lip. The way that he slid his tongue into your mouth as if you belonged to him- causing you to want him to make you his.
You moaned into his mouth as his tongue fought for dominance against yours, taking your breath away with how desperate he was to kiss you harder and more passionately than he already was- if that were even possible.
How hands were all over. Grabbing your waist, his fingertips trailing up and down your back in delicate touches. The way that his thumb slipped underneath the clasp of your bra. He pulled his thumb back to stretch out the band then released it to let it snap back against your soft skin- earning him a surprised gasp.
He removes his lips from yours, beginning to pepper light kisses along your jawline before trailing his lips down your neck. You tilt your head back, giving him more access as he kisses down the column of your throat and then back up- working his way over until he began nibbling on your ear. You thought you were dreaming when he whispered in your ear.
“Can I take your tits out?”
You probably seemed needy and desperate as you fervently nodded your approval. You worried that you probably looked pathetic but, to Eddie, there was nothing hotter than seeing how worked up you were getting.
“P-please.” You mutter, voice coming out breathy and shaky.
“Mmm…good girl. Wanna look at those pretty tits when I fuck you with my fingers.”
You let out a startled squeak at his filthy works, causing him to grin.
“Fuck, sweetheart, does that turn you on? Listening to me tell you that I wanna put my fingers in you? Hm? That I wanna stuff you full?”
“Fuck, Eddie…” You moan.
“God, sweetheart, you’re already moaning my name and I haven’t even touched you yet. So needy for me. I fucking love it.”
He reaches both hands around to your bra clasp, expertly popping it open and removing it as if it were the easiest thing on earth. To him, it probably was. He’s probably taken off so many girl’s bras that he could do it with his eyes closed.
He pulled the bra off, taking it in his large hand before flinging it somewhere on the set. Not that it mattered. As hot as it was, it was getting in the way of what he really wanted. Your tits in his mouth.
“Mmm fuck, baby.” He groans, staring lovingly at your gorgeous chest- your hardened nipples. “You are so goddamn pretty, angel. So beautiful. Can I put my mouth on them?”
“Please.” You moan, arching your back in order to bring your tits closer to his face. Eddie chuckles at your eagerness.
“Shit, sweetheart.” He laughs “You want me to put them in my mouth? Yeah? These sweet fucking titties….”
He keeps one hand on your waist while the other snakes up to your chest, grabbing a handful of your boob as he squeezes it in his hand.
“So fucking soft, honey. So warm…..so perfect.” He teases, voice low and seductive. “Perfect little tits. Want me to put them in my face? Suck on your perky little nipples? Fuck, they’re so hard for me.”
You don’t know what came over you but you instinctively grasp at Eddie’s hand that was left grabbing your waist as you draw it up and onto your other breast, wanting him to have two handfuls of you.
“Look at you, sweet girl. You want both my hands paying attention to your tits? So bossy.” He tsks “Could’ve just asked. But that’s okay. I’m gonna give you what you want. But you’re gonna have to do something for me too.”
You look at him with curiosity in your eyes. You had no idea what he was going to ask you. Truth be told, it made you a little nervous.
“Since both my hands are full, sweetness, I’m gonna need you to use yours to play with your pussy for me. Think you can do that for me? Hm?”
Fuck
You stare at him as he surveys your body, now fully nude in front of him. God, you were a beautiful sight.
“Okay.” You squeak out, nodding your head.
“Atta girl.” He whispers “That’s my good girl. Now start rubbing your clit.”
────────
To Be Continued…
A/N: Hope you enjoyed part one. Sorry that I cut it short, I didn’t want to make the fic too long and I also wanted to get it out before I left for vacation next week. I feel like I’ve already held this back from you all long enough. Please excuse any spelling errors. I’ll go back and edit later
description: you’ve always been sweet. too sweet, probably. then, eddie starts taking you on dates, putting cigarettes to your lips, and looking at you like he wants to ruin you just a little bit.
pairing: eddie x henderson!reader (fem!reader)
tags: eddie x henderson!reader, innocent!reader, virgin!reader, soft corruption, "good girl" energy, sweethearts you to DEATH, firsts, mutual pining, praise kink undertones, protective eddie, eddie not knowing what to do with all of this softness, "jesus christ" 24/7, shy affection, "there she is", "that's my girl", horny but sweet
TW: NSFW (18+) minors do not interact!!, PiV, smoking
WC: 9.9k
A/N: requested by @ihaveaspoon i hope you enjoy!!!! reblog for ya girl, if you don't mind ;) why do i lowkey love a corruption fic🫣 *proofread as best as i could, my brain hurts, sorry
People always say the same things about you.
Sweet, polite, and pretty in that soft sort of way that makes old women at the grocery store smile at you fondly and teachers immediately trust you with passing out papers.
The kind of girl who remembers everyone’s favorite candy, who waves when people let her cross the street, who still says bless you when someone sneezes, even if she doesn’t know them. Hawkins is small enough that kindness stands out, and yours seems endless.
It’s almost strange, really.
Not because you’re naive exactly, but because the world has not managed to harden you yet. You still help Dustin with his homework even after he acts like a little asshole all through dinner. You still leave little notes in his lunchbox and compliment strangers’ outfits and smile at people like you genuinely hope they’re having a good day.
And maybe that’s why nobody’s ever dated you.
Not for lack of trying, because boys definitely do. They trip over themselves around you constantly, all awkward grins and sweaty palms and invitations to the movies that you somehow never realize are dates until weeks later when Robin physically grabs your shoulders and says, “Honey, he was flirting with you.”
Your response had only been a confused blink. “He was?”
Robin had stared at you for a very long moment before muttering something about you being “a baby deer in the middle of hunting season.”
The thing is, romance has always felt like something happening around you instead of to you. Girls in your grade pass notes about kissing boys behind the bleachers while you sit beside them, doodling little stars in the margins of your notebook.
Nancy comes over ranting about Steve, and you listen carefully, chin in your palm, like she’s telling you a story from another planet entirely. Then there’s Eddie. And honestly, maybe the universe should’ve warned him first.
Because Eddie is used to people looking at him and immediately deciding what he is before he even opens his mouth. Freak. Burnout. Drug dealer. Satanist. Every adult in Hawkins looks at him like he’s one wrong move away from corrupting their children, and every girl who flirts with him does it with this expectation that he’ll play into the role they’ve already created in their heads.
But you don’t, you look at him the same way you look at everyone else: warmly.
The first time he really notices it is after Hellfire one night, when everyone else has already cleared out of the drama room except you, sitting cross-legged in one of the chairs, waiting for Dustin to finish arguing with Mike about some campaign detail. Eddie’s shoving books back into his bag when you quietly slide a can of Coke across the table toward him.
“I remembered this was your favorite,” you say simply.
And Eddie just stares at you. Because you remembered that. Not in a flirty way. Not trying to get anything from him. You’d just noticed him mentioning it once weeks ago and tucked the information away in that sweet little head of yours like it mattered.
“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.
You blink at him softly. “What?”
“Nothin’, sweetheart.”
The nickname slips out before he can stop it. And the worst part is the way your entire face warms at it, ducking your head shyly like nobody’s ever called you something like that before. Which, horrifyingly enough for Eddie, might actually be true.
Steve’s living room is already loud by the time Eddie gets there.
Robin is halfway through aggressively arguing with Nancy about what movie they’re watching, Steve looks one inconvenience away from death on the couch, and somewhere in the kitchen, Dustin is complaining about the lack of “real snacks” like he personally funds the grocery shopping.
It’s warm inside the Harrington house, all yellow lighting and cluttered blankets draped over the couch cushions, the kind of easy domesticity Eddie always feels a little strange stepping into. Then he sees you.
Curled up in the corner of the couch with sock-covered feet tucked beneath you, smiling the second the front door opens.
“Eddie!” you say brightly, like you hadn’t just seen him yesterday at Hellfire. “There’s still space next to me.”
That immediately becomes the worst moment of Eddie’s entire life.
Because there is space next to you, a very obvious space. One you apparently saved for him without thinking twice. Robin notices the way Eddie visibly hesitates in the doorway and has to fake a coughing fit into her sleeve to keep from laughing.
Eddie drops onto the couch beside you with what he hopes resembles casualness. “Well, sweetheart, how thoughtful of you. Saved me from sitting on the crusty Harrington carpet.”
Steve flips him off from the recliner. “You’re lucky you were invited at all.”
You giggle softly at that, and Eddie immediately has to look away from you.
The movie starts eventually, though Eddie barely absorbs any of it. Not when you’re sitting tucked against his side close enough that your knees keep brushing every few minutes. Every time it happens, you murmur a tiny “sorry” under your breath before doing it all over again thirty seconds later, entirely unaware of the psychological warfare you’re inflicting on him.
At some point during the movie, you start reaching into the popcorn bowl in his lap instead of the one on the coffee table. Again, absentmindedly. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world to lean across him every few minutes with your soft perfume surrounding him and your sleeve brushing against his rings.
Eddie thinks he may actually be dying.
“Oh my god, this part is so sad,” you whisper at one point, turning toward him with wide eyes.
Eddie blinks. “Sweetheart, this guy has been on screen for maybe four minutes.”
“I know,” you whisper back earnestly. “But look at him.”
And Christ.
That’s another thing about you, you care about everything. Movie characters with three lines. Stray cats behind Melvald’s. Random kids crying in the grocery store. You move through the world with this unbearable softness that makes Eddie feel simultaneously protective and completely ruined by you.
About halfway through the movie, the room cools enough that you quietly reach for the blanket bunched beside Eddie’s leg. He lifts it automatically to help you pull it over yourself, only for you to immediately lift one side toward him too.
“You’ll get cold,” you murmur.
Eddie stares at you for a beat too long before slowly ducking beneath the blanket beside you. Across the room, Robin physically presses her lips together to stop herself from making a noise. Then, somehow, things get worse. Because sometime during the second movie, you get sleepy.
Eddie notices it in little ways first. The slower blinking, the way your words trail off halfway through comments. Eventually, your head tips sideways against his shoulder so naturally that it almost seems unconscious.
The entire room goes quiet for exactly two seconds. Not because of you, but because Eddie completely freezes.
You don’t even realize what you’ve done at first, already half-asleep against him beneath the blanket. Then your eyes blink open slightly, face warming the tiniest bit when you realize where you’re leaning.
“Oh,” you mumble softly. “Is this okay?”
Eddie thinks his heart physically hurts.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, sweetheart. ‘Course it is.”
You smile at that. Small and sleepy and trusting. Then your eyes drift shut again against his shoulder like there was never a possibility he’d say no. Robin watches Eddie very carefully after that. Specifically, the way he doesn’t move for the next hour, not even once.
By the time the movie ends, you’ve wandered into the kitchen with Nancy to help clean up empty soda cans while Dustin argues with Steve over something stupid in the dining room. Eddie is still sitting on the couch like he’s recovering from a near-death experience when Robin drops into the seat beside him.
“You are so unbelievably into her,” she says immediately.
Eddie scoffs without looking at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit. You looked at her like a Victorian man seeing an ankle.”
That finally gets a reluctant snort out of him. Robin grins, leaning back into the couch cushions. “She likes you too, y’know.”
Eddie’s expression changes instantly. “No, she doesn’t.” The response comes too fast.
Robin’s face softens slightly beneath the teasing. “Eddie—”
“She’s nice to everybody,” he cuts in quietly, eyes flicking toward the hallway where you disappeared moments ago. “That’s just who she is.”
And maybe that’s the problem, because Eddie knows what people like him do to things that are soft.
Friday afternoon sunlight spills warm through the hallway windows, catching against Eddie’s face as he leans against the lockers outside your classroom like he’s been there a while, pretending not to wait for you.
Which is exactly what he’s been doing.
You almost miss him at first while stuffing books into your bag, too focused on making sure Dustin remembered his science worksheet this morning. It’s only when someone whistles obnoxiously down the hall, and Eddie flips them off without even turning around, that your eyes finally land on him.
And immediately, your stomach does something strange. Not bad, strange, just strange. Because Eddie’s looking at you already.
Not casually either. His dark eyes lock onto yours the second you notice him, and for a moment, he looks almost nervous, which feels impossible considering this is Eddie. Eddie, who performs lunch table monologues and flirts with teachers for extra credit, acts like the entire world is his stage.
You smile anyway.
“There she is,” he says, pushing off the lockers.
“Hi,” you answer softly, adjusting the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder. “Were you waiting for someone?”
Eddie actually laughs at that.
“Sweetheart,” he says, stepping closer, “you are genuinely killin’ me.”
Your brows pull together a little. “What?”
“Nothin’.” He shakes his head, grinning to himself before dragging his rings along the back of his neck. Suddenly, he looks oddly uncertain again. “Uh… actually, I was waitin’ for you.”
“Oh.” The word comes out quieter than you mean for it to.
The hallway around you buzzes with noise, lockers slamming and people shoving past each other on their way outside, but it suddenly feels very far away. Eddie shifts his weight once, eyes flicking over your face like he’s trying to gauge something.
Then he says, “You wanna go out with me tonight?”
“You mean…” You blink once. “Like a date?”
Eddie’s mouth twitches slightly. “Yeah, sweetheart. Like a date.”
And maybe it’s embarrassing how fast your face warms.
Not because you don’t want to go. God, you do. You think maybe you’ve wanted to for longer than you realized. It’s just that nobody’s ever looked at you quite like Eddie is right now, all careful confidence hiding something softer underneath.
“Okay,” you say before you can overthink it.
Eddie stills. “Okay?”
You smile a little shyly. “Yeah. I’d really like that.”
For a second, Eddie genuinely looks stunned.
Then the slowest grin spreads across his face, crooked and warm and so unfairly pretty that you have to glance down at your shoes for a second just to collect yourself.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath, mostly to himself.
You laugh softly. “What?”
“There’s that thing again where you say yes to me like I just asked if you wanted a pencil instead of—” He cuts himself off with another disbelieving shake of his head. “Tonight. I’ll pick you up at seven?”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeats, like he still can’t believe it.
He walks backward down the hallway afterward, still grinning at you in this helpless sort of way, before finally turning toward the exit. You stand there for a moment after he disappears, your heartbeat feeling strangely uneven beneath your ribs.
Then, naturally, you go find Robin.
She’s already behind the Family Video counter when you walk in later that afternoon, lazily rewinding tapes with Steve half-asleep beside her. The second she sees your face, her eyes narrow suspiciously.
“What happened?”
You blink. “Nothing happened.”
“That is not a nothing face.”
Steve lifts his head slightly from the counter. “What’s a nothing face?”
Robin points at you dramatically. “That face. That’s the face girls make before they tell you life-altering information.”
Your cheeks warm immediately. “It’s not life-altering.”
“Oh my god,” Robin gasps. “You kissed someone.”
“What? No!”
Steve snorts tiredly into the counter. Robin leans forward. “Then what?”
You hesitate for half a second before saying quietly, “Eddie asked me on a date.”
Then Robin slams both palms onto the counter so hard Steve nearly falls out of his chair. “I KNEW IT.”
Your face warms instantly beneath her stare. Steve looks significantly more awake now, too, blinking between the two of you while Robin points at you like you’ve personally validated her entire worldview.
“I told you he liked her,” she says to Steve.
Steve shrugs. “I mean, yeah. The guy looks at her like she personally invented music.”
“Oh my god,” you mumble, covering your face briefly with your sleeve.
Robin immediately softens at that, grinning as she leans her elbows onto the counter. “Aw, honey, don’t look embarrassed. This is cute.”
Cute. The word alone makes your stomach flutter strangely.
You glance down shyly, tracing your thumb along the strap of your bag. “It’s just a date.”
“Mhm,” Robin hums knowingly. “And what exactly are we wearing to this very casual, definitely-not-important date?”
You blink. “I don’t know yet.”
Steve finally sits up straighter. “Wait, hold on. Tonight tonight?”
You nod once. Robin gasps dramatically. “Oh, this is serious.”
“It is not serious,” you protest immediately.
Robin’s expression turns fond in that way it sometimes does around you, all teasing melting into something softer. “Sweetie, he stood outside your classroom looking nervous and was a statue when you fell asleep on him. You’ve altered his brain chemistry.”
You hide your face again with a quiet groan while Steve laughs under his breath.
“I’m serious,” Robin continues. “I have literally never seen him act normal around anybody he’s interested in.”
Before you can answer, Robin suddenly narrows her eyes. “Wait. Have you even been on a date before?”
You hesitate just long enough for her to gasp. “Oh, my god.”
“It’s not a big deal,” you say quickly.
Steve blinks at you. “Like… ever?”
You shrug awkwardly. “I don’t know. Nobody’s really asked.”
Robin and Steve share a look over your head that feels deeply loaded.
“What?” you ask suspiciously.
Robin shakes her head slowly. “Nothing. I just think half the male population of Hawkins is profoundly stupid.”
You laugh quietly at that, cheeks still warm. “You guys are making this sound way more dramatic than it is.”
Robin reaches over the counter to squeeze your hand once. “No, honey. We’re making it sound exactly as dramatic as it is.”
By seven o’clock, your bedroom looks like a small tornado passed through it.
Not because you’re trying overly hard, exactly. More because every outfit suddenly feels wrong the second you put it on. Robin’s teasing voice still echoes faintly in your head every time you glance in the mirror.
"Eddie Munson stood outside your classroom, nervous."
Which is ridiculous, Eddie doesn’t get nervous. However, your stomach has been fluttering stupidly for the last hour anyway.
Eventually, you settle on something simple. Something that still feels like you. Soft sweater, jeans that fit nicely, a little lip gloss Nancy once insisted you’d “thank her for later.” By the time you finally step out of your bedroom, the house is quiet except for the television murmuring faintly from the living room.
Dustin is sprawled across the couch with a bowl of cereal balanced on his stomach despite the fact it’s fully evening. He glances up absentmindedly at first.
His entire face lights up. “Whoa.”
You immediately laugh nervously. “What?”
“You look pretty.”
The sincerity in his voice catches you slightly off guard. Dustin sits up straighter on the couch, grinning at you in a way that suddenly reminds you painfully that he’s still your little brother underneath all the dramatics and endless talking.
“You really think so?”
“Duh.” He gestures vaguely with his spoon. “Eddie’s gonna freak out.”
Your cheeks warm instantly. “Dustin.”
“What? He likes you like… aggressively.”
You laugh softly despite yourself, smoothing your hands nervously over your sleeves. “Robin said the same thing.”
“Because it’s true,” Dustin says, like it’s obvious. “He talks about you all the time.”
That makes you blink. “He does?”
“Oh my god,” Dustin groans, dropping back dramatically against the couch cushions. “You seriously have no idea, do you?”
Before you can answer, headlights sweep briefly across the front window.
Dustin notices your expression and grins even wider. “You’re nervous.”
“I am not.”
“You are,” he says delightedly. “This is amazing.”
Then there’s a knock at the door, and your heartbeat feels too loud. Dustin looks between you and the front door with poorly concealed excitement before jumping up from the couch first.
“Oh, I’m answering it.”
“Dustin—”
Too late. He yanks the front door open with the energy of a child on Christmas morning.
Eddie’s standing on the porch in dark jeans and his leather jacket, curls slightly messy like he’s been dragging nervous hands through them.
He’s holding a small bouquet of flowers that look suspiciously like they came from the little stand outside Melvald’s, and for once in his life, Eddie Munson actually seems unsure of himself.
Then his eyes land on you behind Dustin, and he completely forgets how to speak. Dustin looks back and forth between the two of you with visible delight.
“Oh my god,” he whispers dramatically. “He is freaking out.”
Eddie blinks once like he’s rebooting. “Henderson, I will kill you.”
“You brought flowers,” Dustin says smugly.
Eddie ignores him entirely, still staring at you in a way that makes your chest feel warm all over again. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“Hi.” The word comes out softer than you intended.
Eddie swallows once. Then, very carefully, he holds the flowers out toward you. “These are for you.”
“Be home by ten!” Dustin calls dramatically as Eddie leads you back toward the van.
You pause halfway down the walkway. “Since when do you give me a curfew?”
“Since now,” he says importantly, leaning against the front doorframe. “And no funny business.”
Eddie scoffs loudly without looking back. “You are literally fifteen.”
“And wiser than both of you combined.”
You laugh softly under your breath as Eddie opens the passenger door for you with an exaggerated bow.
“Goodbye, Dustin.”
“GOODBYE. BE SAFE. DON’T GET PREGNANT.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, face burning as Eddie bursts into helpless laughter beside you.
The front door slams shut before you can retaliate further.
“Your brother is insane.”
“You encourage him.”
“Because he’s funny.”
“He’s awful.”
Eddie laughs again as the van rumbles to life beneath you. The sound settles warmly through the small space alongside the radio's quiet static, and for a little while, things feel easy.
Eddie drums his fingers against the steering wheel while he drives one-handed, occasionally glancing over at you with this small private smile that makes your stomach flutter every single time.
It isn’t until he pulls into the overlook outside town later that night that things start to shift.
The place is mostly empty this late, only a couple of scattered cars parked beneath the dark stretch of sky overlooking Hawkins. “This okay?” he asks.
You nod immediately. “Yeah. It’s pretty up here.”
Eddie’s eyes linger on your face for a second too long before he looks away again with a quiet hum. “Yeah,” he says softly. “It is.”
Then, after a moment, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a crumpled pack of cigarettes.
You watch absentmindedly as he taps one loose and settles it between his lips, the flame from his lighter briefly illuminating the sharp lines of his face in warm orange. Smoke curls slowly into the night air once he exhales.
You don’t know why you ask. Maybe curiosity, maybe because everything about Eddie feels a little intoxicating lately.
“Can I try one?”
Eddie freezes mid-exhale. Slowly, he turns toward you. “What?”
You shrug a little, suddenly oddly shy beneath the intensity of his stare. “Just once.”
For a second, he just looks at you. “You’ve never smoked before.”
It isn’t a question. You shake your head once. “No.”
Eddie lets out the faintest breath through his nose, eyes dragging away toward the windshield for a moment. His rings tap softly against the cigarette resting between his fingers.
And maybe this is exactly the kind of thing everyone in Hawkins expects from him. Corrupting nice girls in parked vans late at night. The thought should probably make him feel guilty. Instead, all he can think about is the way you’re looking at him right now, all soft curiosity and trust.
“Sweetheart,” he says slowly, “you really shouldn’t ask me things like that.”
Your brows pull together slightly. “Why?”
Eddie glances back at you then, dark eyes unreadable in the low lighting.
“Because,” he says quietly, “I’m probably gonna say yes.”
Before you can overthink it, Eddie sighs softly and shifts closer across the seat, cigarette still balanced between his fingers. “C’mere.”
You lean closer instinctively, knees brushing his in the cramped space between the seats. Eddie watches you the entire time, gaze flicking once toward your mouth before he catches himself.
“This’ll probably taste awful, by the way.”
You smile a little. “You’re really selling it.”
“Just bein’ honest.”
Carefully, he lifts the cigarette toward your lips. And Christ. The sight alone nearly does him in.
You hesitate only briefly before taking a tentative inhale exactly the way he showed you. Almost immediately, your face scrunches up as you start coughing lightly into your sleeve.
Eddie laughs instantly, reaching over to rub a warm hand against your back. “Easy, easy— there she is.”
“That is horrible,” you rasp between coughs, eyes watering slightly.
“I did warn you.”
You’re still laughing softly at yourself when you finally glance back up at him, only to realize how close he is now. For a moment, neither of you moves.
The cigarette burns slowly between Eddie’s fingers, forgotten entirely now as his eyes stay fixed on yours. You can still feel the warmth of his hand through your sweater, where it rests against your back. Though the look on his face is becoming significantly less careful by the second.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
You nod once.
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
Your voice comes out softer than usual, and Eddie notices immediately.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself, dragging his eyes away from your mouth with visible effort.
His hand slips from your back only so he can lean farther into the seat, head tipping briefly against it like he’s trying to regain control of his own thoughts.
You watch him for a second before smiling slightly. “What?”
Eddie laughs once, but there’s no real humor in it. “You have genuinely no idea what you do to me, huh?”
Your stomach flips hard enough to make you glance away. Not because you don’t understand what he means, you do.
Maybe not fully, or with the same confidence other girls seem to have, but you understand enough to feel the tension thickening between you now. The difference is you’re not afraid of it, not with him.
“You make me nervous, too,” you admit quietly.
That gets Eddie’s attention instantly. His head turns toward you again, curls falling slightly into his eyes. “I do?”
You nod, fingers fidgeting lightly in your lap. “You always look at me like you’re thinking something.”
Eddie goes very still. Because he is, constantly.
And suddenly, he’s picturing every single filthy thought he’s had about you over the last few weeks while you sat beside him smiling sweetly like you trusted him with your whole heart.
Every moment, he’s imagined pulling you into his lap, kissing you until you forgot your own name, hearing soft sounds fall from your mouth, all because of him.
Dangerous thoughts, especially about someone like you.
“You really wanna know what I’m thinking?” he asks finally, voice lower now.
The question sends heat crawling up your neck. Still, you nod.
Eddie studies your face for another long second. Then he leans closer again, slowly enough for you to stop him if you want to. You don’t.
“You sit next to me,” he murmurs, eyes flicking between yours and your mouth, “lookin’ all pretty and sweet all the time, and you don’t even realize what it does to me.”
Your breath catches quietly.
“Sweetheart,” he says softly, almost pained, “I’m trying my best here not to ruin you.”
The word ruin sends a pulse of heat low in your stomach. His gaze darkens immediately at your reaction.
“There she is,” he says quietly, almost pleased. “That got your attention.”
Your face burns. “Eddie…”
“What?” he asks innocently, though there’s nothing innocent about him anymore. “You asked.”
You should probably tell him to stop. Instead, you whisper, “Keep talking.”
Eddie actually closes his eyes briefly at that. When he opens them again, his face slips into something soft, following something dangerous. Like the restraint he’s been clinging to all night is finally beginning to slip.
“You’re trouble,” he murmurs.
You laugh nervously. “I thought you were supposed to be the bad influence.”
“Oh, trust me, doll.” Eddie’s hand slides slowly along your knee, warm and deliberate enough to make your pulse jump. “I am.”
The touch alone feels impossibly intimate. Not because it’s inappropriate, not because it’s even that scandalous. But because it’s Eddie.
Because he’s touching you like he’s trying very hard not to scare you away while simultaneously imagining a thousand worse things.
“You know what the worst part is?” he asks quietly.
You shake your head once.
“I don’t even think you mean to do it.”
His thumb brushes absentmindedly against your knee, and you swear he notices the exact second your breathing changes.
“You smile at me,” he continues softly, “sit close to me, remember little details that nobody should remember… and every time you do, I think maybe this is the moment I finally lose my mind.”
Your heart is pounding so hard now you’re convinced he can hear it. Especially when his eyes drop once more toward your mouth.
Eddie’s thumb is still stroking slow circles over your knee, his dark eyes locked on your mouth like he’s starving for it. You can barely breathe.
“Eddie…” you whisper, not sure what you’re even asking for.
He lets out a shaky breath, like your voice alone is undoing him. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
You don’t answer with words. Instead, you lean in the last few inches and press your lips to his: soft, uncertain, barely a kiss at all, more like a gentle brush.
Eddie freezes for half a second, then groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your mouth. His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck, careful, as he tilts his head and kisses you back properly, like he’s teaching you how good it can feel.
You make a tiny surprised sound when his tongue traces your bottom lip, and he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breathing hard.
“Easy, baby,” he murmurs, voice rough. “We can stop anytime. Just tell me.”
“I don’t want to stop,” you whisper, cheeks burning. Your hands are trembling as you reach up and curl your fingers into his jacket. Eddie’s eyes flutter shut like the words physically pain him. “You’re gonna kill me, you know that?”
He kisses you again, deeper this time, guiding you with gentle pressure until your mouth opens for him. The slide of his tongue against yours makes heat pool low in your belly, unfamiliar and overwhelming.
You try to match him, tentative and sweet, and when you shyly suck on his tongue, he makes a broken noise and pulls you closer across the seat.
He pants against your lips while his hand stays gentle on your neck, thumb stroking your jaw, but his other hand grips the edge of the seat like he’s holding himself back from devouring you.
You kiss him harder, braver now, and he rewards you with a soft moan that goes straight between your legs. When you accidentally graze his bottom lip with your teeth, something you’ve only ever seen in movies, he jerks, fingers tightening in your hair.
Eventually, he pulls back, eyes dark, lips swollen. “Back of the van?” he asks, almost hesitant. “Only if you want. We don’t have to—”
You nod before he can finish, heart hammering. “I want to. With you.”
Eddie helps you climb through to the back, spreading out the blankets he keeps there like he’s making a nest for you. He lays you down so gently it makes your chest ache, then settles over you on his elbows, careful not to crush you.
“Look at me, baby,” he says softly, brushing hair from your face. “We go as slow as you need. Tell me if anything hurts or feels weird, okay? Promise me.”
“I promise,” you whisper, reaching up to touch his cheek.
He kisses you again, slower, deeper, until you’re squirming beneath him.
His hands stay respectful at first, stroking your sides and waist, until you arch into him and he finally slides one under your sweater. The warmth of his palm on your bare skin makes you gasp.
“So soft,” he murmurs against your neck, kissing down the column of your throat. “So fucking perfect.”
You’re trembling when he helps you out of your sweater and bra, but not from fear. Eddie looks at you like you’re something holy, eyes reverent as he cups your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples until they tighten.
“Eddie—” Your voice breaks on his name when he leans down and takes one into his mouth, gentle suction and slow flicks of his tongue. You’ve never felt anything like it. Your hands fly to his hair, gripping curls, and he groans in approval.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Hold onto me.”
He works you open with patient fingers later, after your jeans and panties are gone, whispering praise the whole time.
“Relax for me, baby… just like that. Good girl. So wet already, fuck. All for me?”
You nod frantically, hips twitching. When he curls his fingers just right, you cry out, shocked by the sharp burst of pleasure.
“There?” he asks, voice low and pleased. He does it again, watching your face. “Yeah? You like that?”
You can barely speak, just whimper and nod. He keeps talking you through it, gentle but filthy, until you’re shaking apart on his fingers with a broken little moan.
He kisses you through it, then rests his forehead against yours while he rolls on a condom. “You sure, sweetheart? We can stop right here. I’d be happy just making you come all night.”
You shake your head, pulling him closer. “I want you. Please, Eddie.”
He enters you so slowly it almost hurts, a combination of pain and how careful he’s being, how full you feel. He stops every inch, murmuring against your temple.
“Breathe, baby. That’s it… doing so good for me. So tight—fuck, you feel incredible. Breathe, okay?”
When he bottoms out, you both moan. He stays still, buried deep, kissing you softly until the stretch eases into something warm and aching and good.
“Move,” you whisper, nails digging into his back. “Please.”
He rocks into you gently at first, then a little deeper when you start lifting your hips to meet him. Every thrust is measured, his voice a constant low rumble in your ear; praise, dirty little observations, encouragement.
“Look at you taking me so well… my sweet girl. Never thought I’d get to have you like this.”
You get bolder as it builds, wrapping your legs around his waist, experimentally clenching around him. Eddie’s rhythm falters.
“Shit—baby, do that again.”
You do, shy but eager, and he groans like he’s dying. On impulse, you tilt your head and bite his shoulder. Not hard, but just enough to leave a mark. Eddie curses loudly, his hips snapping forward harder for a second before he catches himself.
“Fuck, you’re gonna make me lose it,” he laughs breathlessly, kissing you deep.
He reaches between you and rubs your clit in tight circles, voice growing rougher as you both get close.
“Come on, baby. Let me feel you. Want you to come on my cock—yeah, just like that. Good girl. So good for me.”
You shatter with his name on your lips, clenching around him so hard his thrusts turn erratic. He follows right after, burying his face in your neck as he comes with a broken moan, hips jerking.
Afterward, he stays inside you for a long moment, stroking your hair, pressing soft kisses to your flushed face.
“You okay?” he whispers, voice tender. “Did I hurt you?”
You shake your head, smiling shyly as you nuzzle into him. “It was perfect. You were perfect.”
Eddie laughs softly, pulling the blanket over both of you. “Yeah? Even when I almost lost my mind because you bit me?”
Eddie’s arm is wrapped carefully around your waist, fingers absentmindedly tracing slow patterns against your skin like he can’t stop touching you now that he’s allowed to. Not that you mind.
Your head rests against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowly come back down while his other hand plays gently with your hair. Every few seconds, he presses absent little kisses to the top of your head like he’s doing it unconsciously, like affection simply spills out of him naturally around you.
You feel him shift slightly beneath you after a minute, enough that you tilt your chin up to look at him. He’s already staring down at you, dark curls messy, lips slightly swollen, expression somewhere between completely wrecked and deeply concerned.
“…You sure you’re okay?” he asks again quietly.
The question makes your chest ache a little. Not because it’s upsetting, but because he sounds genuinely nervous about it.
You smile softly almost immediately. “Yeah.”
Eddie studies your face carefully anyway, like he’s searching for any sign you don’t mean it. “Yeah?” he repeats.
“Mhm.”
“You promise?”
A quiet laugh leaves you then, small and sleepy and warm from where you’re curled against him. “Eddie.”
“What?” he says defensively, though his hand tightens slightly around your waist. “I’m serious.”
“I know.” Your fingers drift lazily along the chain around his neck while you look up at him. “I’m okay.”
Eddie exhales slowly through his nose, tension visibly easing from his shoulders. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, mostly to himself.
You smile a little wider. “You say that a lot.”
“That’s because you keep doin’ things that make me need divine intervention.”
Your laugh this time is brighter, and Eddie immediately looks at you like he’s just won something.
There’s still this almost disbelieving softness in his expression now, like he hasn’t fully processed that this actually happened. That you happened.
“You’re thinkin’ too hard,” you murmur.
His mouth twitches slightly. “Can you blame me?”
You shrug a little against him. “Maybe.”
“Sweetheart,” he says quietly, brushing his knuckles gently along your cheek, “you trusted me with your first time. I think I’m allowed to spiral a little.”
Heat blooms softly across your face at the words.
“You’re really okay?” he asks one more time, softer now.
You nod against him. “Yeah.”
Then, after a tiny pause: “It was nice.”
Eddie goes completely still underneath you. Slowly, he lifts his head enough to stare down at you properly. “Nice?”
You blink innocently. “Yeah.”
A laugh bursts out of him so suddenly it startles you.
“Baby,” he says through his grin, “I am never letting you describe that as nice again.”
Your face warms instantly as you hide it against his chest with a groan, and Eddie just laughs harder, wrapping both arms around you tighter while pressing another kiss into your hair.
“There she is,” he murmurs fondly. “My sweet girl.”
The next morning feels strangely dreamy. Not in some dramatic life-changing way.
Dustin is still loudly arguing with the television before noon, the neighbor’s dog still won’t stop barking, and Hawkins still looks exactly the same outside your bedroom window.
Every time your mind drifts back to the night before, heat creeps slowly up your neck all over again. Eddie’s hands on your waist. The sound of his voice going rough when you kissed him back. The way he kept checking in afterward, like your comfort mattered more to him than anything else in the world.
You think maybe that’s your favorite part. Not the sex itself, though that had certainly been overwhelming in ways you’re still trying to process. It’s the fact that Eddie held you afterward like something precious.
The phone rings around two in the afternoon. You perk up instantly from your spot sprawled on the living room carpet, flipping through a magazine. Dustin glances over from the couch suspiciously while you practically scramble for it.
“Hello?”
A small pause. Then: “Hey, sweetheart.”
Your stomach flips immediately. You smile before you can help it, curling the phone cord loosely around your finger. “Hi.”
Eddie goes quiet for a second on the other end, like maybe hearing your voice affected him too much. When he speaks again, there’s a smile tucked into his words.
“How’re you feelin’ today?”
Warmth floods your face instantly. “I’m okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
Another tiny pause. “Good.”
From the couch, Dustin narrows his eyes. “Is that Eddie?”
You wave him off blindly while Eddie snorts quietly through the phone. “Your brother sounds possessive.”
“He’s nosy.”
“I heard that,” Dustin calls loudly.
You laugh softly, and Eddie goes quiet again for half a second in that way he keeps doing now, like hearing you laugh still catches him off guard.
“So,” he says eventually, voice lower now, easier. “I was wonderin’ if maybe you wanted to come to the Hideout tonight.”
“The bar?”
“Mm.” You can practically hear him lighting a cigarette through the phone. “Thought maybe I could buy you a drink. Since you’re all grown up now.”
Your face burns instantly. “Eddie.”
“What?” he asks innocently. “You are.”
You tuck your hair behind your ear shyly despite the fact that he can’t see you. “I’ve never been to the Hideout before.”
“I know.”
And for some reason, the way he says it sends warmth straight through you again. Like he enjoys being the first person to show you these things.
“Only if you want to,” he adds after a second, softer this time. “No pressure.”
You smile immediately at that. “I wanna go.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Eddie exhales quietly through his nose, almost sounding relieved. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll come get you around eight.”
“Okay.”
There’s another pause afterward that stretches warm and comfortable between you both. Then Eddie says, quieter now, “Missed you today.”
Your heart stutters embarrassingly hard. “Oh.”
A soft laugh crackles through the receiver. “There’s that little sound again.”
“What sound?”
“The one you make when I say somethin’ that gets in your head.”
You duck your face instinctively, even though he still can’t see you. From the couch, Dustin groans dramatically. “You are smiling so weird right now.”
The Hideout smells faintly like cigarettes, beer, and old wood, the second Eddie pushes the door open for you.
It’s darker inside than you expected, lit mostly by warm amber lights strung lazily behind the bar and the colored glow from an old neon beer sign buzzing softly in the corner. A band is setting up near the tiny stage in the back while people crowd around sticky tables, laughing too loudly over the music humming through the speakers.
His hand settles lightly against the small of your back, warmth through your shirt as he leans closer so you can hear him over the noise. “You okay, sweetheart?”
You glance up at him and smile. “Yeah. It’s just different than I expected.”
Eddie grins. “What, you thought it’d be glamorous?”
“A little.”
“Aw, honey.” He nudges you gently toward the bar. “This place barely passes health inspection.”
You laugh softly under your breath, and Eddie’s expression immediately softens at the sound like it always does now. There’s still something almost disbelieving in the way he looks at you tonight, like he can’t quite process that you came here with him willingly. That you’re sitting beside him at the Hideout, of all places.
The bartender greets Eddie immediately as soon as you slide onto the stools. “Munson.”
“Hey, Frank.”
Then Frank notices you beside him, one brow lifting slowly.
Eddie catches it instantly. “Don’t start.”
Frank smirks knowingly before wiping down the counter. “Wouldn’t dream of it. What can I get you two?”
Eddie glances sideways at you thoughtfully for a second, tapping his rings lightly against the bartop. “Lemme get a beer…”
Then his eyes flick back toward you again, something amused flickering there.
“And a Dirty Shirley for her.”
You blink. “How did you know that’s what I’d like?”
Eddie shrugs casually, though the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “You just seem like a Dirty Shirley kinda girl.”
The answer makes you laugh softly. And for some reason, Eddie looks absurdly pleased with himself over that. When the drinks arrive a minute later, you eye yours curiously before taking a cautious sip through the straw.
Immediately, your face brightens. “Oh, this is good.”
Eddie snorts into his beer. “Yeah, because it’s basically candy.”
You narrow your eyes playfully. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Nah.” His gaze drifts slowly over your face again, softer now. “Kinda fits you, actually.”
Heat creeps up your neck at the way he says it. You glance down shyly at your drink while Eddie leans one elbow onto the bar beside you, watching you with open fondness now that nobody from school is around to see it.
“You nervous?” he asks after a moment.
“A little.”
“About bein’ here?”
You shrug slightly. “I guess.”
Eddie hums quietly, eyes flicking around the crowded bar before settling back on you. “Nobody’s gonna bother you while you’re with me.”
The words shouldn’t affect you as much as they do. Maybe it’s the confidence in his voice. Maybe it’s the fact that he says it so naturally, like protecting you is already instinct.
Or maybe it’s just Eddie.
“Good,” you say softly before taking another sip.
Eddie goes suspiciously quiet beside you, and you glance over. “What?”
His eyes drag slowly from your lips back up to your face.
“Nothin’, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “You just look real pretty sittin’ here.”
The music hums warmly through your chest now instead of pounding against it, and the second Dirty Shirley Eddie absolutely did not need to buy you has left your cheeks pleasantly warm. You’re leaning closer to him without thinking anymore, your knee pressed between his, where he sits angled toward you at the bar like the rest of the room barely exists.
Eddie’s halfway through telling you some ridiculous story about Gareth nearly setting a school amplifier on fire when you start laughing hard enough to grab onto his arm.
And that completely derails him.
He loses his train of thought instantly, eyes dropping to your hand wrapped around his forearm before slowly flicking back up toward your face. You’re still smiling at him, all sweet and tipsy, entirely unaware of the effect you have on him.
“Why’d you stop talking?” you ask.
Eddie blinks once. “You’re pretty distracting, sweetheart.”
Your face warms immediately.
“There she is,” he murmurs fondly into his beer.
Eventually, the bar starts getting louder as more people crowd in, conversations overlapping with the music until Eddie notices you beginning to glance around, slightly overwhelmed.
His hand settles instinctively against your knee beneath the bar. “You wanna get outta here?”
You look back at him immediately. “Yeah.”
Eddie studies your face carefully for a second before asking softer, “Wanna come back to my place?”
And maybe it should feel more scandalous than it does. Instead, all you feel is warm trust settling low in your chest when you nod. “Okay.”
The drive to the trailer park is quiet in the nicest way.
One of Eddie’s tapes plays softly through the van speakers while warm night air drifts through the cracked windows. Your head rests lazily against the seat as streetlights pass over Eddie’s face every few seconds, catching the silver of his rings against the steering wheel.
He keeps glancing at you, not subtly either. Every time you catch him, he smiles crookedly to himself before looking back at the road.
By the time he parks outside the trailer, you’re pleasantly floaty enough that you don’t even think twice before following him up the steps. The trailer is dim and familiar from all the times you’ve picked Dustin up after Hellfire. Eddie immediately tosses his keys onto the counter before turning toward you.
“You want somethin’ to drink?”
You shake your head slightly before your eyes catch the cigarette pack sticking halfway out of his jacket pocket.
“…Can I try another one?”
Eddie actually laughs softly under his breath. “You are trouble.”
You smile innocently. “You said that already.”
“Yeah, well.” His eyes drag slowly over your face again. “Still true.”
This time, when he pulls a cigarette loose and lights it, you step closer before he even asks. Eddie notices immediately, something dark and pleased flickering briefly across his expression before he tamps it down.
“C’mere then, sweetheart.”
The pet name lands warm in your stomach now.
You lean in slightly while Eddie lifts the cigarette toward your mouth again, two fingers resting carefully beneath your chin to angle your face upward. The touch alone feels unfairly intimate, especially when his eyes stay fixed on your lips the entire time.
“That’s it,” he murmurs softly as you inhale carefully.
This time, you barely cough, and Eddie’s brows lift immediately. “Well, look at that.”
You laugh lightly through the smoke, a little proud of yourself despite how ridiculous that probably is.
Meanwhile, Eddie looks devastatingly fond. “That’s my girl,” he says quietly.
Your face flushes even more now, like that’s even possible.
“You like it when I say stuff like that, huh?” he asks gently.
You glance down shyly. “Maybe.”
His grin turns downright dangerous. “Jesus Christ.”
Then, before you can recover from that, Eddie disappears briefly toward his bedroom area. You hear drawers opening for a second before he returns holding something glass and obnoxiously large in one hand.
You blink. “What’s that?”
“A bong.”
Your expression must give you away because Eddie immediately laughs. “Relax, sweetheart. It’s just weed.”
“I know what weed is.”
“Mhm.” He drops onto the couch cushions beside you, smirking slightly. “And yet you looked at it like a church girl.”
You nudge his shoulder lightly while he chuckles to himself, already packing it with practiced familiarity. Then he glances sideways at you.
“You wanna try?” There’s no pressure in his voice, just some boyish curiosity.
You hesitate briefly before nodding. “Okay.”
Eddie’s expression softens instantly into something almost unbearably affectionate. “Attagirl.”
Heat floods your face again.
A few minutes later, you’re sitting tucked against his side while he guides you through it patiently, one hand steady against your waist while the other helps position your fingers correctly.
“Slow,” he murmurs. “Yeah, just like that.”
You follow his instructions carefully, trying not to focus too hard on the fact that his mouth is barely inches from yours right now. The hit burns less than the cigarette but still catches in your throat enough to make you cough lightly against his shoulder afterward.
Eddie laughs warmly, rubbing your back. “That wasn’t too bad!”
“You make everything sound embarrassing.”
“That’s because everything you do is cute.”
Your face immediately buries against his shoulder while he laughs harder, wrapping an arm around you automatically like he can’t help himself anymore.
By the time the second hit settles in properly, you are absolutely gone.
You’re not panicking or dizzy or anything nightmare-inducing. Everything just suddenly feels unbelievably funny and soft all at once, like the entire trailer has been wrapped in warm cotton. The music playing quietly from Eddie’s radio sounds deeper somehow, and you cannot stop giggling every time he looks at you.
Which he keeps doing, constantly.
“You good there, sweetheart?” he asks from beside you, trying very hard not to laugh himself.
You stare at him for a second too long before nodding very seriously. “Your eyelashes are really pretty.”
That immediately breaks him. Eddie doubles over laughing, one hand covering his mouth while the other stays loosely around your waist to keep you upright, where you’re practically folded into his side on the couch.
“Oh my god,” he wheezes. “You’re high as a kite.”
You gasp softly like he’s offended you. “No, I’m not.”
“You just complimented my eyelashes like you discovered religion.”
“They are pretty.”
That only makes him laugh harder.
You narrow your eyes at him for approximately two seconds before dissolving into giggles, too, burying your face against his shoulder. Eddie wraps both arms around you automatically, then, still shaking slightly with laughter, he presses a kiss into your hair.
“Godt,” he murmurs fondly. “You’re adorable.”
You hum happily against him, completely content tucked into his chest while his rings drag lazily along your back.
A few minutes later, you start rambling, not about anything important either. Just whatever pops into your head.
“You know what’s weird?” you mumble suddenly.
“What’s weird?”
“The moon.”
Eddie snorts softly. “The moon.”
“Yeah. It just follows you around all the time. That’s weird behavior.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t think the moon has behavior.”
“It does.”
“Mhm.”
You tilt your head up to look at him very seriously. “You smell good.”
Eddie visibly short-circuits for a second. “…Thanks.”
“And your hair is soft.”
“You touched my hair for like three seconds.”
“I know,” you sigh dreamily. “It was nice.”
That’s apparently the final straw. Eddie drops his forehead briefly against the top of your head with a groan. “Baby, you gotta stop sayin’ things like that before I lose my damn mind.”
You just smile at him sweetly, which does not help. Eventually, after you nearly fall asleep sitting upright against him, Eddie gently decides you need to move to the bed before your neck ends up permanently bent at a horrifying angle.
“C’mon, pretty girl.”
You blink sleepily up at him. “Hm?”
“Bedtime.”
The second he slides an arm beneath your knees and lifts you into his arms, you immediately wrap yourself around him with a soft little laugh.
Eddie steadies you against his chest easily, though his expression goes dangerously fond all over again when you instinctively nuzzle closer against his neck.
“You’re comfy.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm. Like a heating pad.”
Eddie nearly walks directly into the wall laughing.
The mattress dips softly beneath you a moment later as he sets you down carefully onto his bed. You immediately starfishing across it in a way that makes him snort affectionately while crouching beside you.
“You wanna sleep in jeans, sweetheart?”
You make a face. “No.”
“Okay.” His voice stays gentle. “Can I help you change then?”
You nod immediately. That feeling hits Eddie square in the chest every single time.
So he moves slowly. Helping you swap your jeans for a pair of old sweatpants and one of his oversized shirts while you continue mumbling nonsense the entire time.
“Attractive people should legally have warning labels,” you inform him seriously while he helps guide your arm through the sleeve.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mhm. It’s stressful.”
Eddie laughs softly under his breath. “Poor thing.”
“I’m serious.” You squint at him sleepily. “You’re very handsome. It’s distracting.”
He actually stops moving for a second. “Good lord,” he mutters weakly.
“What?”
“Nothin’, baby.”
By the time you’re finally settled beneath the blankets, your eyes are barely staying open anymore. Eddie starts to pull away toward the edge of the bed before soft fingers catch loosely around his wrist.
“Stay.”
Eddie looks down at you for a long second before his entire expression melts. “Yeah, sweetheart,” he says softly, climbing in beside you. “I’m stayin’.”
By Monday morning, half of Hawkins High has already noticed the jacket.
Not because it’s particularly flashy. Eddie’s leather jacket has always looked a little worn around the sleeves, a little too big on you, where it hangs past your fingertips. But everyone knows who it belongs to. Hellfire patches and metal pins tend to stand out in a school full of pastel sweaters and varsity jackets.
You don’t even think much of it at first while standing at your locker between classes, adjusting your books against your hip as Robin practically materializes beside you with the energy of someone spotting celebrity gossip in real time.
“Oh, my god.”
You blink. “What?”
Robin gestures wildly toward your body. “The jacket.”
Your eyes drop downward like you somehow forgot you were wearing it. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Robin repeats incredulously. “That’s Eddie’s jacket.”
You shrug a little, though warmth immediately creeps into your cheeks anyway. “I got cold Saturday.”
“And he let you keep it?”
The way she says it makes you pause. “…Yeah?”
Robin stares at you for a very long moment before muttering, “That man is so far gone.”
You laugh softly under your breath, trying and failing to suppress your smile while Robin watches the entire thing happen in real time.
“Oh, you like him bad too,” she realizes immediately.
“I do not like him bad.”
“Honey, you are literally wearing his jacket. Is that not the universal equivalent of a declaration?”
Before you can answer, someone whistles from farther down the hallway.
You glance up instinctively just in time to see Eddie leaning beside the cafeteria doors, already beaming, looking at you. More specifically, at you in the jacket. The slow grin that spreads across his face afterward is downright unfair.
Robin physically grabs your arm. “Oh, he’s gonna be unbearable now.”
And she’s right. Because Eddie spends the rest of the day looking at you like he won something.
Every time you pass each other in the hallway, his eyes immediately flick toward the oversized sleeves swallowing your hands before dragging slowly back toward your face with a deeply pleased expression.
At lunch, he hooks two fingers through one of the jacket loops while passing behind your chair and murmurs a quiet, “Looks better on you anyway, sweetheart,” directly into your ear.
You nearly forget how to speak afterward. By the end of the school day, your cheeks hurt from smiling.
Outside, the parking lot buzzes with engines starting and people spilling toward their cars in noisy groups while you make your way down the front steps. And there he is. Leaning against the side of his van with a cigarette resting between his lips, like he’s been waiting a while. The second he notices you walking toward him, his entire face softens.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Hi.”
Eddie takes another drag from the cigarette while you stop between his knees, where he’s perched against the van door. “You survive another thrilling academic day?” he asks dryly.
“Barely.”
“Yeah? Tragic.”
You laugh quietly while his eyes drift over your face again, lingering there warm and heavy enough to make your stomach flutter. Then your gaze drops toward the cigarette between his fingers.
A slow smile pulls at his mouth. “What?”
You hesitate briefly before leaning in slightly. “Can I?”
This time, he doesn’t even tease you about it.
He simply lifts the cigarette toward your mouth automatically, eyes fixed steadily on your lips while you lean closer to take a slow drag. The smoke burns less now, familiar enough that you barely cough at all when you exhale.
Eddie watches the entire thing like he’s completely mesmerized.
“Atta’ girl,” he says quietly. The praise settles warm all through you.
Maybe it’s the nicotine. Or the way he’s looking at you. Or the fact that you spent the entire day missing him in a way that feels embarrassing to admit.
But suddenly you just want to kiss him, so you do. You lean forward softly, cigarette smoke still lingering faintly between you as your lips press against his. Eddie makes the quietest sound into your mouth.
His free hand immediately slides against your waist, pulling you closer between his knees while he kisses you back, slower this time, like he’s savoring it. Around you, the parking lot continues moving in noisy blurs, but Eddie kisses you like there’s nobody else there at all.
When you finally pull back slightly, he’s staring at you with completely blown pupils.
For a second, he just looks at you. Then he lets out a quiet laugh under his breath, thumb brushing absentmindedly along your waist where it’s still holding you close.
“Who are you?” he murmurs, almost disbelieving.
Your face warms instantly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Eddie grins slowly, eyes flicking toward the cigarette still dangling between his fingers before dragging back to your mouth.
“Couple weeks ago you were apologizing for saying hell in front of teachers,” he says softly. “Now you’re stealin’ drags from my cigarettes and kissing me in the school parking lot.”
Heat blooms all through your chest at the way he says it. Not mocking, something more towards pleased. Like he’s enjoying watching this softer, bolder side of you emerge.
You smile shyly despite yourself. “Maybe you’re a bad influence.”
Eddie actually groans at that, dropping his forehead briefly against your shoulder.
“Sweetheart,” he mutters, “you cannot say things like that to me.”
“Why not?” you ask innocently.
Eddie’s thumb hooks beneath your chin immediately.
“Because,” he says quietly, voice rough around the edges now, “you say it like you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
The warmth in your stomach deepens at that familiar tone, at the way he’s looking at you like he’s equal parts obsessed and completely doomed by it. And maybe you do understand a little more now.
Maybe that’s why your smile turns just slightly shy and knowing when you whisper, “Maybe I do.”
Eddie stares at you for half a second like you just physically struck him. Then he laughs softly under his breath, completely gone for you.
“There she is,” he murmurs.
He doesn’t reply with words after that, just hooks his fingers more firmly beneath your chin and drags your mouth back to his.
Eddie kisses like he’s addicted to it already, cigarette smoke still clinging faintly to him while his hand slides warm against your jaw. The parking lot noise fades somewhere far into the background as he tilts his head and kisses you again and again like he can’t help himself anymore.
And when you melt closer against him with a tiny contented sigh, Eddie smiles directly into your mouth, completely, and hopelessly ruined.
badda bing badda boom.
anyyywayyyyy, hope you all enjoyed.... i have a surprise coming at 11pm >:)
Summary: You’ve grown weary of your virtue, and, unfortunately for Eddie, you’ve hatched a plan to lose it to a stranger tonight. But why are you telling him this if not to extend an open invitation to foil your plans?
Word Count: 15.9k
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, angst, fluff, PiV unprotected sex, condom removal during sex, loss of virginity, virginity talk and shame around still having it, lots of yearning, teasing, cream pie, fingering, oral sex (fem rec), nicknames (sweetheart, sweets, pretty girl, etc.), dirty talk, arguing, best friends to lovers, jealousy, possessiveness, mention of vomit (not R or E), bad first time (not R), mention of a hypothetical junk-punch, one instance of R described to have breasts with a little weight to them, if I missed anything lmk!
Song Rec: Pavlov’s Bell by Aimee Mann
A/N: I herald his beginning. I herald your end. I herald…experienced!eddie. It’s been a while since I’ve posted a oneshot, and I tried something new with how I wrote this, so pls lemme know how you guys feel about it <33333 Born from this ask!
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“So, what do you think?” you eagerly ask.
Eddie’s sitting across from you in the small metal chair, his fingers threaded as they rest on the laminated wooden table in his trailer. His expression is still—frozen. He’s not too sure what to make of your plan.
Honestly, he’s waiting for you to laugh and tell him it was just a joke. A very unfunny, crass joke.
But you don’t, and after what feels like an eternity, he manages a response.
“That is the worst fucking idea I’ve ever heard, sweetheart, and I listen to every single one of Gareth’s ‘million-dollar-cashgrabs.’”
He shakes his head with careful subtlty—like any sudden movement will scare you into actually committing to this plan.
Disbelief clouds his features, heavy and foreboding like the sky before a summer squall—
The nerve. The gumption. The audacity so potent on such an unassuming young woman.
You want to lose your virginity to a stranger and you’re, what, warning him first?
It’s like you want him to disrupt your plans.
He watches you roll your eyes, all pursed lips and impudence.
“Oh, seriously?” you sass. “Calm down. It’s really not that big of a deal.”
Eddie practically chokes on his scoff, and the strangled sound ripples over your body, drawing out the look he knows well. Annoyance—it forces you to sit up straight.
You squirm in your seat for a moment, like a million tiny ants are marching up your spine, dancing over the tension in your shoulders. And he knows…the argument is imminent, but not before he speaks his piece—
“Not that big of a deal? Sweetheart, stubbing your toe is not that big of a deal. Forgetting to check the mail is not that big of a deal,” his voice raises as he gestures wildly, feeling like a Bible Belt preacher wailing about temptation of the flesh. “Losing your virginity? To a stranger? That’s a pretty big-fuckin’-deal!”
Again, you roll your eyes—blatantly disregarding the way his head cocks and his own eyes narrow in warning. He hates when you do that. When you brush him off so easily, like he’s dust on your pristine shoulder—
A quiet chuckle leaves your lips as you avert your gaze, suddenly finding the speckled laminate far more interesting.
Like a puppy hearing an unfamiliar noise, Eddie’s head cocks back the other way, trying to figure out what exactly he said that has you laughing. Usually he loves the sound, but he doesn’t like the tone of this one. There’s something deeply derisive buried beneath the nonchalant surface.
“I’m sorry, I must’ve missed the joke there, sweets. Care to clue me in?” he rasps, goading you.
A jeering smirk pulls at your lips, like you’re finding his simmering temper and deepening voice increasingly amusing.
After another soft huff—a sound that could almost be mistaken for a scoff—you level him with a penetrating look, your smirk slowly splitting into an incredulous grin.
“Sorry,” you start, but a chuckle bubbles up your throat, catching on the clearly insincere apology. “Sorry, I just find this whole thing very funny.”
Eddie sucks his teeth as he watches you shrug dismissively—no longer backing down, no longer avoiding his darkening gaze. He lets your words sit in the air, hoping their stuffy bitterness will suffocate you into surrender, but instead, they seem to brandish your skin like armor.
And just like that, out comes your most dangerous weapon: your self-satisfaction.
From all his years with you, he knows, when your complacency reaches an all-time high, there’s almost no way to change your mind. You’ve already doubled down once, and you’re about to batten down the hatches. Because more than anything, he knows you hate being wrong and hate it even more when you’re told you’re wrong.
And through festering nerves and itchy discomfort, Eddie realizes he just shot your idea down and danced on its grave.
Of course, he wouldn’t have had such a strong reaction if it weren’t such a sensitive topic. But you don’t know that. All you’ve heard so far is you’re wrong, and I know more than you.
It’s moments like these where Eddie curses his motormouth—his almost comical inability to shut up, or, god forbid, consider what he means before he opens his trap. And until he finally learns his lesson, he figures he’s doomed to live with his foot in his mouth for all eternity.
With you shifting in your seat, and time ticking against him, he knows this bomb is going to need an extra delicate defusal. But he’s not certain he can remain level-headed about this subject matter.
Not when it’s you.
Not when damned images of a faceless man caressing you plays in technicolor through his mind. Because sometime ago, somewhere along the night drives and the lazy days, his wires got crossed. And now those wires are sparking, threatening to burn him through and through.
Maybe you’re not the bomb, after all.
“Oh, you find it funny, do you?” he questions, nodding his head.
“Well, yeah. You’re sitting here trying to tell me that, what, losing your virginity is supposed to be special?” you mockingly ask, your features alight with mirth. It’s like you’re a bloodhound catching a scent—the scent of sweet, sweet hypocrisy.
Eddie opens his mouth to answer your rhetorical question, because…yes.
For you?
Yes, it should be special—
“You know what? I want you to go look in a mirror and say what you just said to me, and see if you don’t laugh too.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he argues, jerking his head back. Your words might as well have physically manifested themselves into a slap because that’s how they feel, acidic and seeping into his skin with a sting.
“Please! You remember telling me about your first time? You came to school the next day bragging to me and the Hellfire guys about hooking up with some older chick in the bathroom at the Hideout! Remember that? You wore it like a badge of honor!”
He had taken you in as a freshman, just like he did every lost soul. Battling off the stifling monotony of high school together, it was no surprise you developed a crush on him. He was—is—so sweet. So funny. So unlike anyone you had ever met.
He would play the fool just to make you laugh, but he’d defend your honor in an instant. Your very own protection against the venomous cheerleaders and mouth-breathing jocks.
When he would get himself going about something or other, marching along the tops of the lunch tables, it was like staring straight into the sun. You bloomed under his gleaming rays, flowering and reaching toward his warmth with every wild grin, every silly headshake, every teasing joke.
He was addicting, and you would come bounding into lunch every day itching for a fix.
Then you were a sophomore and Eddie was a senior—for the first time.
One day, he came in with a new story to tell, and no amount of sunshine could restore your wilting leaves, your shriveling flowers. No amount of water could satisfy the buds that never got to grow and now never would—
Every prideful sentence—every dirty detail boasting the changed man he had become—acted like a rain of pesticide on your delicate ecosystem.
It was a level of desecration you couldn’t undo if you wanted to.
And you weren’t sure you were even strong enough to try.
Because it became clear that day, he wasn’t yours. He wouldn’t be yours.
You couldn’t see him the same after that. The chemicals contaminated the image, degrading and defacing the likeness.
He wasn’t the man you used to dream about every night.
He didn’t look like he once had—so soft, so sweet. A man able to rot your teeth right out of your skull if you allowed him the honor.
A man so saccharine and delicate, like candy floss.
But maybe it was the image of him that was delicate—not truly him.
After all, your tears melted the wisps pretty easily.
All that was left was piles of sugar—too wet for consumption, and not in the right form—and a crash unrivaled by any confectionery you’d ever had.
White, hot anger seeps from every pore in Eddie’s skin, replaced by the shocking chill of a memory he’s tried very hard to forget.
He feels like throwing up—
This. This, right here, is why he’s vehemently opposing your plan. This feeling constricting his chest, like not enough fresh air in the world could inflate his lungs—
He thought the experience was cool at first. He thought he was being totally “metal.”
But he was just being used.
The woman never asked his name, and when he tried to talk to her, she crudely told him to focus less on talking and more on fucking. It was a mortifying experience. He almost wasn’t able to finish from the sheer embarrassment of it all, but eighteen year old hormones were a thing to behold.
And despite what he would have everyone around him believe, he still cared way too much about what people thought of him. So he strutted into lunch the next day, hopping up on his soapbox to spread the good word of his monumental conquest. High from the excitement of the boys, he embellished most of the story.
And now, here you are, sitting in front of him, smug as can be, thinking you’re proving your point with his own hypocrisy.
But he’s not a hypocrite.
He’s just a liar.
He has lied to you about a lot of things and, funnily enough, all those things seem to be crawling out of their grassy graves, hungry to take a chunk out of him.
Because as much as you may think you’ve cornered him with a “gotcha” moment, your reminder of his past transgressions only makes him all the more passionate about how you should spend your first time.
He can’t let you feel how he felt.
Not you.
You deserve better than empty touches and unfeeling words.
“You wore it like a badge of honor!”
Your voice echoing in his mind has a sentiment never meant to be revealed tumbling past his lips with frightening ease—
“Yeah, and I lied!”
Slowly, your self-satisfied smile falls off your face. Confusion overtakes your confidence.
Capitalizing on your stunned silence, Eddie continues—
“That first time was fucking awful! I felt like shit. I only acted like it was good because I thought that’s what I was supposed to do…. Because I was stupid and young.” He utters the words with disdain, mortification and frustration mixing low in his gut until he feels more flammable than ever.
“It wasn’t good,” he repeats, a frown etched tightly into his features. “It just made me feel…empty.”
Your silence weighs heavy on his shoulders; selfishly, he steals a glance at you, at the crease in your brows and the way you seem to be reflecting. He can almost see you reliving that day in your head, searching for any twitch of an eye, any too-quick-to-fall smiles.
But he’s a good liar. Always has been. Even when it comes to you.
The idle hum of electricity coursing into the yellow bulb above him acts as the soundtrack to your response.
“Well, I don’t plan on doing it in the Hideout bathroom, so I think we’re good there,” you shrug.
Eddie purses his lips; he knows it’s deliberate. What you’re doing, it’s purposeful, and you’re doing it to piss him off. Because you’re pissed off.
Your eyes narrow at his, challenging him in the silence of the trailer.
A huff of air escapes through flared nostrils—he’s refraining.
But you’re killing him.
Sometimes you can be so difficult, but he wouldn’t stick around if he wasn’t addicted to the agony of trying to figure you out.
That’s half the fun of every conversation he’s had with you.
You push his buttons more than any woman he’s ever met, but you’ve twisted him up so bad, the only time he feels normal is when you’re looking at him. Doesn’t matter if it’s with anger or fondness or humor.
You’re a paradox he can’t sort out because you’ve made him like this—wires crossed and incendiary feelings—but you also have a way of fixing him. Though, it’s usually just to mangle him all over again.
And he’d like to be your only victim. He’d like to burn in only your pyre, if given the chance.
If given the chance.
If given the chance, he’d like to put a stop to this. And with the quasi-warning you’ve granted him, he feels this is as good a time as any to poke as many holes in your plan as he can—
“What’s the rush? Why now?”
He can see in your eyes, you’re taken aback by his question as your challenging gaze turns suspicious. “What do you mean, ‘Why now?’ Because I want to, that’s why.”
Your argument is slipping; petulance curls off you in plumes as thick as smoke. And the scent is sweet to him.
Eddie settles back in his chair, sliding his hips down—looking the epitome of leisure and apathy, he hopes. Though, unable to fully transform while walking the repressive tightrope, his left hand fiddles with the rings on his right—a nervous tick he hopes you’re too annoyed to notice.
“Well, yeah, but why not yesterday? Why not a month from now?” He shrugs, feeling flinty resentment sharpen his edges as he continues the onslaught of questions, now bordering on antagonistic. “Why not prom night a few years ago? Isn’t that where all the girls go to lose it? You went, you had a date. You could’ve.”
Your eye twitches.
“Because I didn’t want to, jackass. I’m ready now. I want to now…”
Instead of responding, Eddie just raises his brows, feeling unimpressed. Your words sit in the air, floating in between you both as they grow stale.
The soft whistle of the A/C unit and the ticking of the old clock on the wall make him feel like he’s trapped in this liminal space where conversations never truly end because nobody’s point ever actually gets made. Like he’s just meant to sit here, staring at you, both waiting for the other shoe to drop, but nothing comes. Because that’s not how the game is played.
Unfettered, Eddie continues to look at you, as though you’re something to be watched—consumed. A separate entity he can’t touch, but he can play the part of an onlooker, waiting for disaster to hit.
You squirm and shuffle in your seat. He observes. Waits. Gives you the space to tell on yourself because he knows you’re not strong enough to resist it.
Your eyes sporadically flit from his to random places in the trailer as you avoid his patient gaze.
After a few seconds, it appears the opened cereal box and empty beer cans across the room become a bore to you.
Slowly, your far-out gaze drops down the kitchen counter, landing on the floor, sliding to the side, and back up the table until it rests on his joined hands, fingers threaded, rings bulky and glinting in the dull glow of the humming bulb.
He sees the exact moment you buckle under his unyielding attention—the moment you give up. Your shoulders deflate the smallest amount, free of tension and low from submission. Your chest collapses under the expression of a deep, silent sigh.
“I’m tired of being a virgin,” you mutter, shame darkening every syllable. “I just want it over with, I don’t care anymore.”
Eddie purses his lips again, nodding, because he understands the feeling. He remembers the pressure. “And you don’t wanna wait to lose it to someone you love?”
You don’t respond. Don’t look at him. All you do is laugh. Just a quiet, humorless chuckle. A few notes of melody that tell him you’ve got a well of emotions, thoughts, and opinions on the subject that you’ll have to spare him for time’s sake.
But Eddie’s not in the business of letting you off easy. As much as you can be difficult sometimes, he can be far worse.
He can talk, and talk, and talk for hours. Stall forever if he needs to.
Suddenly, he sits up, hunching his shoulders forward, determined. “I think you should wait…. For someone you love,” he implores.
You roll your eyes again, as though he’s spinning you an opulent fantasy and swearing it’s true.
He crosses his arms, mirroring your own movement—
“Thank you for your input, I’ll take it into consideration.” You shoot him an insincere smile before looking up at the ceiling of the trailer, as if thinking, only to return your gaze to him seconds later. “Okay. I’ve considered it. And I’m choosing to ignore it.”
Eddie bristles, sucking in a quick breath to bolster his impending rebuttal, but you don’t even let him—
“I don’t know if you've noticed, Eddie, but there’s a distinct lack of guys lining down the block, waiting to woo me. And that’s fine, it’s whatever,” you shrug, shaking your head like you couldn’t be less bothered. “I can’t make someone love me. But this, I can control…”
You snort, mordacious words spewing from your perfect lips. “One thing I know about men is they may not be quick to love, but they’re certainly easy to seduce.”
Eddie shifts angrily in his seat. Not quick to love?
As if that could be true. Who in their right mind—
Part of him wants to yell at any guy who’s ever rejected you, but the other part—the dark, untamable ego—wants to jump up in celebration, in smug satisfaction that he’s not having to duel for your devotion.
But he doesn’t do either because love is awful.
It’s like staring into a mirror and all his worst flaws are staring back.
Right now, his selfishness is glaring at him, and yet, he can’t seem to care. That’s the worst part.
He should be good. He should be better for you. Should want to be better for you. It’s what you deserve. But you’ve done something irreversible to him.
And love is fickle.
Because, unfortunately, he can relate to you on one thing—the woes of not being able to make someone love you.
The pain of wanting it and not getting it.
If he could….
If he could get it…
If he could make someone love him—if it were possible—he wouldn’t be stuck here listening to you plot how you’re going to lose your virginity to some guy. Instead, he’d be half-way to the bedroom by now, your hand in his, and a million sweet kisses waiting for you.
But love is fickle.
“Okay, fine. Yeah, guys are easy, but you can’t lose it to a stranger. That’s probably the worst way to go about it,” he complains, regarding you with almost-pleading eyes.
You pause for a moment, your eyes narrow at the earnest display of caution on his face. But then you must remember this is the face of a liar, because—
“I mean…people hook up with people all the time. Some even after they’ve just met at a bar,” you pointedly argue, pinning Eddie to the spot with a time-hardened gaze.
His lip curls as he regrets ever opening his mouth that day in ‘84.
If he had known it would give you the perfect shield, allowing every argument he lobs at you to bounce off and hit him square in the chest, he would have never said a word. In fact, he has half a mind to create time travel just to go back and kick eighteen year old Eddie’s ass—
“And besides, I’m not doing it with a stranger. I was thinking of asking Jimmy Royston,” you shrug, focusing on the chipped nail polish you can’t seem to stop picking at. “I sat next to him in Chemistry, like, all of junior year.”
For the first time in what feels like forever—well, at least since you told him your plans for later—Eddie laughs. A boisterous, belly laugh that echoes around the trailer, the sound bouncing off the smoke-stained wallpaper and hitting every surface in sight.
Too busy wiping tears from his eyes, Eddie misses the way your face sours, your lips curling into a dangerous sneer.
He starts a few sentences that immediately devolve into gibberish and giggles when he pictures you and Jimmy Royston so much as speaking. God, his stomach hurts— He always did sat you were the funnier one out of you and him.
A terse ahem draws his attention back, and he tries to stop his body from shaking with heaving laughter.
“Oh, sorry. Phew! I needed that, I needed that.” He wipes some escaped tears off his cheeks. “Ohh, thank you, sweetheart, that was very funny. Thank you,” he says with a breathless grin, smoothing his shirt and rubbing his sore abdomen.
Staring at him with a heavy brow, your expression remains still—
When your facade doesn’t crack—when you don’t smirk and revel in how hard you made him break, like you usually do—Eddie’s smile drops off his face, replaced by unabashed incredulity.
You’re serious. You truly mean to tell him…Jimmy Royston is your man of choice? The guy who vomited all over himself in ninth grade when he had to dissect a frog in biology is the one you want to lose your virginity to? Jimmy ‘Puke-y’ Royston?
What’s more, your choice is based on a year of being lab partners? Really? Eddie has known you since freshman year—known of you since elementary school—and you’re choosing an acquaintance over him?
Not even an acquaintance—an obligatory desk-mate. How romantic. Touching, really—
He can’t help but imagine how that conversation would go. “Hey, Jimmy, remember me from Chem? Stoichiometry, am I right? That shit sucked. Anyway, do you wanna fuck me?”
All of a sudden, he starts considering whether he could win in a fight against the short, slim guy.
Who knows? It may come to that if he fucks this up and fails to convince you never to leave his trailer—especially not for Jimmy Royston.
“Sorry, you wanna have your first time with your eleventh grade chem partner? Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Eddie wails, a crazed, bemused look in his eyes as he leans forward over the table that separates you two.
You groan loudly, rolling your eyes so hard your head lolls back. “Oh, what now? You don’t want it to be a stranger, I said it’s not gonna be. Now you don’t want it to be someone I know? Seriously, Eddie, you’re grasping at straws here.”
“Someone you know? Jimmy is someone you know?” he scoffs, his brows lift so high they disappear into the messy curls of his bangs.
When you don’t say anything else, only pursing your lips and avoiding his fiery gaze, he nods fervently, his frizzy locks swaying softly with the movement.
“Yeah, well, of course. You guys go way back,” he mocks. “You know what, while you’re at it, why don’t you call up Chris Trilcek? You were paired up for that final presentation in world history freshman year. Bet he’d be a hoot-and-a-half in the sack, and I’m sure he’s free!”
“Oh, do you think I should?” you ask, staring off to the side of his frazzled face like you’re actually considering his teasing suggestion. “I mean it’d be nice to have options in case Jimmy isn’t up for it…”
Before Eddie has a chance to figure out if you’re being deliberately obtuse again, you’re up, leaving him to stare at the empty space across the table as you rifle through the junk-drawer in his kitchen.
Inside the deep drawer, stray batteries and an impressive rubber band ball roll about as you dig through a shocking amount of take-out menus. Once you find what you’re looking for, you make your way back to Eddie, plopping onto your chair, letting the item drop from your hands and onto the table with a loud thump.
Quickly, you split the phone book open, flipping through the flimsy pages to get to the ‘R’ section.
“What the f—”
Eddie shakes his head wildly, slamming his hand down on the binding of the book before he drags it to him and away from you—away from your deft, searching fingers.
“Hey!”
You reach across the table to pull the White Pages back, but before you can get your hands on it, he shoves the book off the surface like an attention-seeking cat. It goes flying, falling to the floor of the trailer with a loud, hollow thud.
“Hey! I need that, asshole!” you yell, vexation turning your tone shrill.
You stare into his eyes for a moment, annoyance cooking your insides like a stew as you’re met with utter indifference and what looks to be a hint of smugness. You’re going to kill him.
Stuck in another stand-off, neither of you move until you make the mistake of glancing at the ground, noting the landing spot of the heavy book, splayed out—frail pages folding under the weight of itself in haphazard creases. Eddie follows your gaze and that’s all it took to give away your next move.
In a flash, you turn, bending down, and reaching to the floor. Eddie matches your hasty movements as you both tumble out of your seats, trying to beat the other to the book. The very tips of your fingers brush the laminated cover when he lurches forward, pushing the book out of your grasp once more.
“Ugh!” you shriek as you scramble toward it, at an advantage because, though he got it away from you in that split-second, he still pushed it to your side of the room—further away from him. You feel a brush of wind against your bare skin as he swipes at your ankle, trying to catch the limb to drag you back to him, but you’re too quick. You get a hold of the book and stand up, rushing over to the yellow landline by the door.
“Fuck!” he shouts, clambering after you. The noises of you vigorously flipping through the pages and the click of the phone coming off the hook only seem to add to his panicked fervor.
Eddie comes to an abrupt stop behind you, his body nudging you closer to the wall with his nearly-uncontrolled speed. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, his chest warms your back as he breathes heavy.
Right as you’re about to start typing in the number you found for the Roystons, the phone lodged between your ear and shoulder disappears—yanked free, and slammed back onto the hook by a large, ringed hand.
Another annoyed groan tears from your throat as you feel his body loom ever-closer behind you. Hunching your shoulders, you turn away from his right hand—the one that guards the phone—to protect your precious White Pages. But it doesn’t work—
His left hand—the one you hadn’t noticed was resting on your hip—ambushes you from the other side.
Quickly, Eddie firmly presses the pads of his spread fingers onto the thin page you were reading from, and balls his hand into a tight fist, effectively ripping the delicate paper from the book, trapping it beneath his iron grip. In a fit of rage, you whirl around, leveling him with a sharp glare.
He backs away from you, fist still closed around the paper, shielding it from your inevitable reach. Slamming the book onto the side table beneath the phone, you march toward him.
“Eddie, what the fuck?” you yell, matching his retreating steps with your confident stride. When he runs out of space, you corner him against the far wall and the couch, zeroing in on his fist.
Eddie lifts his hand high above his head, fully aware of how silly this game of life-or-death keep-away is. But he’ll be damned if you get that fucking phone number.
As you reach for the crumpled paper, he uses his body to block you—leaning back when you lean forward, stretching and giving you more of his body to reach over. You grunt and mutter obscenities at him, balancing on your tip-toes, but nothing helps. You can’t reach it. He’s never been more overjoyed at his lanky stature than in this moment—
Giggles freely escape his grinning mouth while he watches laser-sharp focus and irritation mar your face as you shove him, trying to get him to break and finally give you the page. He’d never admit it to you because you’d probably junk-punch him—especially right now—but he’s loving the way you’re all over him.
Your touch is everywhere as you reach and pry for the bane of his existence. Not to mention you smell amazing. He has to stop himself from curling into your roving hands, but he must remain sturdy. For both of your sakes.
“Sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t think you’re tall enough to ride this ride,” he goads, utterly drunk on you.
You let out the loudest groan he’s ever heard from you, leading him to snicker some more. But he soon regrets his overconfident teasing when you give up on aiming directly for his hand and instead start pawing at his arm.
A sharp chop to the inside of his elbow sends shockwaves of dull pain through his nervous system as you use your full body weight to pull down on his raised arm, now partially crumpled from your assault to his joint.
In a moment of desperation—your body hanging from his flexing bicep, slowly but surely bringing it to your level—Eddie shoves the ball of paper into his mouth and releases the tension in his arm, dropping it to his side. The sudden slack causes you to nearly fall over, but before you do, he wraps his arms around your waist, catching you.
Your irate features melt into a look of disgust as you squirm out of his arms.
“Ew! Egh! That’s so gross, Eddie!”
“Mmm, phone book,” he taunts through a mouthful of White Pages.
“You know, that was your phone book, right? You just lost yourself a whole two pages of R’s,” you say, raising a brow.
“Don’t care.”
His petulance is muffled by the crumpled paper in his mouth, and he can’t help but cringe at the taste. Paper. It just tastes like paper. But old.
Suddenly, he sidesteps your body and crosses the room, heading back to the kitchen to throw the page away. He can feel the thin material softening from his saliva and it’s making him want to scrub his mouth out.
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you watching him as he spits the wet slop into the garbage, sees the way you carefully step toward the phone again.
“Ugh, you’re a child.”
He pauses from scrubbing a towel over his tongue—attempting to clean any remaining pieces of paper from his mouth. “And you’re a brat.”
You huff at his declaration. “Am not!”
“Are too!” he rebuts, dropping the towel and coming out from around the counter.
“I’m just trying to tell you you’re gonna regret it! I’m on board with the ‘virginity is a concept’ train—hell, I’m the conductor! My point is, sure, it’s a concept, but it’s a concept with feelings attached to it. And feelings get all confusing and…feelings-y,” he rushes out, frustrated at how he can never find the right words when you’re around. “You might not believe it now, but if you go through with this, you’re gonna feel pretty shitty afterwards.”
He ends his spiel by crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the counter, staring at you. He’s said his piece.
You watch him for a moment, then—
“Great. Thank you for the wisdom, Gandalf. But how ‘bout you go share that with someone who cares? I’ve got a ‘T’ name to call.”
You turn around, pick up the phonebook once more, and flip through a few chunks of pages to get to the right section.
Eddie lets out a loud, defeated sigh as he lets his arms drop to his sides. “You’re really not gonna give this up?”
Scoffing, you shoot him a glare from across the room before looking back down at the list of names. “Exactly which part of ‘I’m gonna lose my virginity tonight’ did you not understand?”
He sucks his teeth as he watches your finger find Chris’s last name, your hand already reaching for the phone.
Fuck it—
“Fine. If you really wanna lose it to someone, and you don’t care who, then lose it to me,” he shrugs, crossing his arms again.
He glances away from your now-still figure, your shoulders so high, they’re nearly up to your ears.
Forcing a level of indifference he’s never quite been capable of—especially not when it comes to you—he stares downward, as if the well-worn carpet beneath his feet could ever be more interesting than the woman whose second home is his subconscious.
You’re pretty sure you can hear the fibers unfurling beneath his shifting feet. Or maybe it’s your feet. Maybe it’s your heartbeat in your ears, not his. Everything is a little confusing and you can’t seem to look away from the wall. It feels like a safe place to rest your unseeing eyes.
Your arm aches and you retract it from where you were reaching for the phone—you hadn’t made it, you were half-way there when he said it.
Carefully, you turn your head to him, trying to figure out if this is some shitty joke he’s spouting just to piss you off or if he has well and truly lost it. But his face is devoid of any humor and he looks as sane as he ever did—which was never a lot, but no different to now.
More than anything, he looks almost vulnerable as he avoids your shocked gaze.
“What? Eddie—” you start, already exasperated because you’ve decided that, even though he appears to be completely serious, he must be joking, “if this is another way for you to try and–”
“It’s not.” He shrugs his shoulders again, finally meeting your eyes while shoving his hands into the back pockets of his ripped jeans. “You win. I capitulate to her majesty.”
You raise a brow at the medieval lilt and his waving bow to you, but before you get to reprimand him for the joke, he continues—
“If you’re gonna go have sex with someone you feel nothing for, then why not feel nothing for me?”
You almost want to laugh at his “foolproof” logic, but the familiar pain in your chest is accompanied by something else. Something almost warm. Like rays of sun fighting through cumulonimbus clouds.
Damp dirt, new leaves, and fertilizer.
He’s offering something you only ever dreamed of like it never crossed your mind.
Like it would mean nothing.
An agreement. A one-time deal. No strings attached; an easy fix to your problem.
But what if you want strings?
Does he want strings?
Strings do get messy when left untied. All the criss-cross feelings and knotted touches.
But it’s him—
“Eds—”
Like he’s been burned by your solemn tone, Eddie cuts you off in a hurry. “At least it’d be with someone you know. Like really know…. Someone who cares about you—about your experience.”
The fragility in his eyes makes you want to console him. To tell him you believe every word. That you’re sure he would be good to you.
Because he looks like him—
The soft, sweet man you saw all those years ago. The one you prayed to at night like a deity, asking for a few more seconds of his hand on your lower back, or more moments of just you and him. More laughter, more affection, more time. More, more, more.
All the little things that molded you into a reverent devotee in the first place.
Asking for every small thing to bolster your faith.
And now, he’s finally offering something much larger.
Reaching for you with a divine gift.
How could you possibly say no?
Criss-cross feelings, you remind yourself.
Strings to tie your heart down, could be useful—
Fuck it.
Slowly, you set the phone book down and make your way over to his spot against the kitchen counter. Stopping right in front of him, you look up with hesitant curiosity.
You’ve never really been this close to him. Not with this much on the table.
Mindlessly—shamelessly—you glance at his lips before succumbing to the cloudy glint in his eyes, the darkness that falls like a veil over his once-lively irises.
There’s something there, you find.
Something else that swirls deep in the molten shade of brown.
Something you want to know more about.
Your hands hang uselessly below you, resting against your body as you nervously fiddle with your fingers. The pointed tip of your tongue glides along the soft skin of your lips, leaving your mouth parted—like a siren call to his.
You couldn’t be any closer to him. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you feel the soft puffs of air from his wanton mouth. But you won’t move anymore.
You leave yourself for him. He can have you if he wants.
A sacrifice.
Eddie’s eyes rove over your face, looking down at the way you’re almost reaching for him, but it’s as if you won’t allow the touch. Won’t allow the crossing of some imaginary barrier you’ve built.
Steadily, he lifts his hands—crosses the line—trailing his fingers up your neck like a ghost of a touch, until he settles his gentle grip on either side of your head. Stealing a moment from Time itself—just a second, a blip, like he’s plucking a ripe berry to savor in the thousand milliseconds he’s stolen—he smooths his thumbs over your temples, granting himself the selfish gift of feeling you.
His eyes consume all, admiring the dainty flutter of your mascara-blackened lashes, the softness of your skin—he marvels at the feeling.
Simmering from the heat of your body, he tries to memorize all your prettiest features, seen through an advantage he’s never had before. To be this close. To never be again.
He’s going to make it worth his while. He has to.
A lowly victim to your gravitational pull, he finds himself leaning toward you, like light toward a collapsing star. And there’s no escaping you, not when you so easily warp the fabric of his being with frightening ease.
Loud in his straining ears, he hears the slight hitch in your breath when he nearly brushes his lips with yours, but he loses himself before he can truly feel you. Instead, he plants a cowardly, chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth.
Simply not enough, but more than he could have ever dreamed of getting. Another bittersweet paradox.
“D’you want this?”
He’s so quiet, but he can feel the way you shudder against him. The way you feel him, his words mumbled devoutly into your skin.
“I wanna lose my virginity,” you whisper confidently, like it’s the only thing you're absolutely certain of.
Eddie tries to fight the way his face falls, but he can’t seem to manage it when your words serve as a reminder of how little this all matters to you. Or, at least, how little you care who you lose it to.
But, ever-observant, you notice, and he catches the worry as soon as it draws your brows together.
“T-To you…” you amend. “Can I?”
The frail uncertainty in your voice feeds the fire deep in Eddie’s gut, like bone-dry wood being thrown into the hearth on a years-long winter night.
The flames, once dim and hopeless, time-weathered and starving, roar back to life.
Subtly, he nods, relishing the way you relax. Bound to your request, he allows his palms to glide down your form, taking his time to explore the new terrain until he grabs ahold of your soft hands.
Side stepping your body, he gently pulls you to his room. His backwards strides are confident—a sign of comfortability in the home he’d call yours, just the same as he’d call it his. After all, these walls have seen nearly every iteration of his care for you. From acquaintances to friends to—
Neither of you speak as he guides you around his frame—you, now in front of him, and him, leaning his weight against the bedroom door until it clicks shut.
Wayne is on a fishing trip for the weekend with some buddies from the plant, but he’s not particularly known for remembering to pack everything, and Eddie is keen on protecting your modesty and ensuring your comfort. Like you deserve. Like he knows he can—better than anyone.
He drops one hand from yours only to lock the door. Once he’s certain there will be no interruptions, he walks you back toward the bed until you’re standing right in front of it.
Dropping your other hand, he reaches up and gently smooths the hair near your temple again, addicted to the way your eyes flutter. His hands slide down your figure until he’s toying with the hem of your t-shirt—his t-shirt, the one you stole in tenth grade and never gave back.
His selfishness befriends the possessive fiend he fights back daily, because you’re moving through the world marked by him. And in this moment, Eddie wonders if you really could have let another man touch you in the shirt that whispers his name against your soft skin.
Heat thrums just below your surface, boiling and bubbling, nearly spilling over when you feel him tugging at your shirt, silently asking for permission. His hands wait patiently.
You don’t respond. Don’t know how to speak. Nerves rattle against your ribcage. Or maybe it’s your heart testing its prison, looking for a way out as it pounds and pounds and pounds—
“Can I take this off?”
His low mutter—almost a monosyllabic slur of sound—registers a second later in your hazy brain. You nod, forcing your lungs to expand, but nearly choke at the faint scent of his cologne.
It’s familiar. Piercing, clean, and rich—
You remember the day he got it. When he dragged you to the mall, forcing you to smell every option. He bought the one you liked the most. Even when he wasn’t too sure about it. You remember warning him about the price tag, about how he should pick one he really likes if he’s going to splurge on it. But he wouldn’t hear it—
“Words.”
A confused hum creeps up your throat as you greedily bask in his scent, feeling the world move in slow motion around you. His unending touch carves canyon-like ripples into the tissue of your mind.
When you manage to focus on his eyes, there’s a level of fondness in them that has you grabbing onto his wrist for support.
“Wanna hear your words, sweetheart. Y’gotta tell me what you want.”
Understanding washes over you like cool hose water on a hot summer day. Quickly, you open your mouth to ask him—no, beg him—to undress you, but before a single word can crawl out from between your parted lips, you feel his warm fingers dancing along the delicate skin of your waist, leaving a wave of goosebumps in their wake.
Your breath catches, and you shudder because he’s both hot and cold—
His attention warms you; his touch leaves you shivering from a chill that is so frigid it begins to manipulate your frayed nerves, tricking you into feeling the burn as if it were born from the bluest flame and not the calloused hands of your best friend—
“I— I, um…”
You shake your head as you try to remember what you were about to say before the words ran away from you and into his arms, stealing whatever desperate sentiment you meant to express. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to figure it out, to fill in the blanks—like a cipher missing its key.
His thumbs are drawing little shapes into the soft skin beneath your shirt, aiding and abetting the thieving words. The unfamiliar affection makes your abdomen twitch and your core pulse with need.
Before you get the chance to draw up some semblance of sanity, Eddie leans into you, effectively shrinking your entire world to just him. He’s everything you feel, everything you smell, everything you see, everything you touch, everything you…want to taste.
You so desperately want to know what flavor his kisses are—
Bitter smoke from the habit he can never quite kick? Malt sweetness from the beer he loves to drink? Cool mint from the gum he always carries around?
Would you grow ravenous at the first hint of Marlboro Reds? Would you crumble under the eager pressure of his lager-soaked tongue? Would your mouth water at the lingering scent of menthol on his breath?
You’re trapped in his thrall the second he closes in on your space. His head tips to the side, running his lips along your warm cheeks, your jaw. You shiver at the soft brush of his mouth—an action you’re painfully aware is not meant to be shared among friends. No, this kind of touch is reserved for lovers only—
“What do you want, sweetheart? Want me to touch you? Want me to hold you?” he murmurs, heavy gaze locked on the way your lips part, and you quietly pant. Your head bobs toward his mouth, body leaning into his arms, drawn to the heat of him.
You hear the sharp intake of breath, feel his nose nuzzling your hair. Then, as if fighting for control, his hands flex, only to grab onto your hips and drag you tight against him, like he lost the battle. Or maybe he surrendered. The way he hangs over you, almost relieved at the closeness leads you to believe it’s the latter.
Emboldened by his body against yours—all growing hardness and twitching muscles—your hands paw at his abdomen, his waist, kneading and pulling him impossibly closer.
“What do you want, baby?”
You bite back a whimper at the new endearment.
Because that’s reserved for lovers too—
“I want…W-Wan’ you. I wanna be…be with you,” you mumble breathlessly, mindlessly.
In a huff of impatience, he pulls your top over your head. You hear the way he swallows back a groan and you wish he wouldn’t have.
With expert dexterity, he removes your bra, and this time, he doesn’t hold back. You practically bloom under his attention—his wide, hungry eyes, his almost pained rasp of humming appreciation.
His hands slide up the sides of your body, featherlight fingers following the length of your ribs, brushing inward as he traces the skin just below the curve of your breasts.
Your wandering hands fiddle with the hem of his shirt before slipping under the material, flexing and groping at his toned abdomen. You pull at his narrow waist, a wordless plea for him to touch you more.
But he seems uninterested in your needy silence and you remember his instructions—
“Eddie, please. Please, touch me. I need you…. Wanna feel you.”
“Whatever you want,” he agrees, nodding.
Electricity prickles and dances across your skin like invisible lightning as he finally slides his hands over your sensitive breasts. Gently kneading the weight, he smooths his thumbs over your pebbled nipples. You gasp at the sensation, the way it directly triggers the heat twisting and turning low in your core with a quickness you’re not accustomed to.
Leaning down, Eddie attacks your jaw and neck with greedy, open-mouthed kisses. His nose nudges you zealously, like he’s devouring your delicate flesh and still aching for more, so you tilt your head away, eager to provide.
You tug his shirt up his body, but quickly realize you’ll need him to break away from your neck to get the material over his head. You lightly push on his abdomen, and he begrudgingly stops his assault, understanding what you’re looking for.
With a level of speed you’ve never once seen him use, he peels his shirt off, balls it up, and blindly tosses it somewhere in the corner of the room.
Unabashedly, you ogle his body in a way you’ve never allowed yourself before. Your heavy-lidded gaze is first drawn to the pick hanging just below his collarbones, sitting perfectly against his pale skin. Then, your eyes drop, admiring the tattoos that litter the expanse of his chest.
You’ve only ever seen them a few times—mostly at the Hawkins pool on hot summer days, and once when you walked in on him changing. You remember how you couldn’t get the image out of your mind. The contrast, the searing visage of inky-black against milky-white, pressed into skin like a pretty decoration meant to be admired.
And like a set path guided by nothing but desire, your eyes track down, down, down his body—all heat and hardness. Your mouth waters when you catch sight of the tuft of coarse hair trailing from his navel to whatever lies beyond the waistband of his jeans.
Whatever lies—
But you already have an idea; you feel him pulsing against your stomach, you felt him twitch when you whimpered moments ago.
All heat and hardness.
Drawing you from your trance, Eddie’s deft fingers fiddle with the button on your jean shorts, making quick work of the fastenings and dragging the material down your legs. He drops to his knees, peering up at you with something in his eyes so…raw that it has you grabbing onto him, your balance escaping you.
With your hands on his strong shoulders, you watch with rapt attention as he removes your shoes and socks, then he gently cups one ankle, lifting it and helping you out of the leg of your shorts before doing the same to the other. His touch is so soft—so gentle—you think you might cry.
Barely anything has happened yet and he’s taking such good care of you. You shudder to think how this would have gone had you called up Jimmy or Chris.
Nobody could compare to Eddie.
Feeling weightless, heavy, high, and stone-cold sober all at once, you meet his eyes.
“You look…” he pauses, swallowing harshly, “you’re so beautiful.”
Your ears ring at the hidden sentiment between those three words. A million extra meanings you can’t catch, but you heard them like a whisper in the wind—real and slipping through your fingers the moment his hungry lips grace your skin once more.
Large hands squeeze the backs of your thighs, and you feel the tickling brush of his frizzy curls against your bare legs.
Wet, searing kisses travel upward, his hands slide in tandem with the needy affection. He holds you with a type of reverence you couldn’t have foreseen—as if you could have ever foreseen this. He moves along your body like you’re allowing him, not like he’s the one doing you a favor.
You sigh when you feel the heat of his breath over the place you need him most. He’s stopped at the apex of your thighs, panting like a desperate man, blocked by a flimsy slip of fabric that you’re certain he could shred to pieces with the way his eyes have darkened.
“C-Can I?” His strained voice breaks through the music in the room, disrupting the melody of syncopating gasps and pants.
It feels like the world is moving as you stay perfectly still, staring down at him, his arms wrapped around your legs, fingers greedily curling in the waistband of your panties. You find yourself thankful for his steady, obedient grip.
Underneath his wanton gaze, you feel the weight of roles reversed. It’s like it’s his first time, the way he’s looking up at you like your permission will fix him. Your touch will mend something broken.
With wide eyes and parted lips, you nod. “Y-Yes. Please, Eddie.”
A sound torn from deep within his chest rumbles out, reverberating around the room, bouncing off of every wall and hitting you like a spell. Low, where his breaths warm you, a fiery enchantment unfurls in volant tendrils like ink in water.
Suddenly, Eddie drags the thin material down from around your hips, another appreciative groan rips from his throat as he watches the gusset of your panties fall last, stuck to your wet folds. A delicate string of arousal clings to the fabric, unable to part from it.
You watch his efforts slow, his lids grow heavy like he can’t control the need. Then, he presses his face between your thighs, the very faint graze of his tongue leaves you trembling.
With one targeted swipe, Eddie’s tongue snaps the silky string, catching what he can with overwhelming zeal.
“Want more,” he mumbles into your heat. “Sweets…”
“Yes,” you interrupt, already drowning in desperation. “Need you—”
He growls and pulls your panties the rest of the way down your legs before his large hand lifts one of your thighs to sit on his shoulder, allowing him easier access to your soaked core. He hums brokenly—a lewd sound of appreciation.
The second he drags the flat of his tongue through your dripping folds, your gasps devolve into messy moans, but the sound only seems to encourage him more. With foreign ferocity, he devours you.
“Oh, god, Eddie,” you mewl, hips twitching against his face, hands threading through his fluffy hair for balance.
Vibrations from his responding groan move through you, tearing you apart until you’re nothing but wanton shreds. Your knees almost buckle beneath you, but he presses into you. Harder. More persistent. The force sends you falling backward onto the bed, your hands hurry to break your soft descent.
Your hips hang off the edge of the mattress—one foot still planted on the ground, the other dangling over Eddie’s right shoulder. His hands grope and knead the fat of your thighs as his tongue eagerly laps up your arousal like a man starved. Your arms give out from under you, sending your back barreling down to the untucked sheets on his mattress.
You’re panting and burning up; the heat of his breath meets the warmth of your folds, creating a smoldering furnace where his mouth dances over you. It’s an unfamiliar sensation, and one you think no other man could ever replicate.
Your hips react ardently to every twist and flick of his tongue, the talented muscle toying with you until you’re shaking and whining and bucking against his mouth for more.
The moment you feel the tip of his tongue draw tight circles around your swollen clit, your head flies back in ecstasy. Your hands wander the space around you for something to grab, first, trailing over your breasts with a teasing squeeze before reaching for the sheets beside you. But it’s not enough. The material is so thin, you can’t get the grip you need.
Like he can sense the desperate energy rolling off of you in tidal waves—like he knows the feeling—Eddie grabs your hands, momentarily sacrificing his fragile skin to your clawing, pressing, sinking, crushing—
Your thoughts are plucked from somewhere high in the ether and placed back into your head the moment you feel his dragging touch, then, softness. Peering down the winding, curving terrain of your body, you meet his dark eyes, see the way he’s moved your restless hands into his hair.
The whine falling past your lips is drowned out by his aching growl deep within your wet folds. He tightens his grip around your hands before letting go, encouraging you to hold onto him—to use him.
And you do.
You tug him closer, grinding your core against his mouth until you arch at the dull pressure of his tongue breaching your entrance, pressing into you powerfully, exploring untouched territory you wish could be marred by his ministrations. Like a token to memorialize this moment in time. Something that says you’re his—
Quickly, your hips start to lose their rhythm against his face, recklessly twitching and squirming with every break he takes from fucking you to flicking your clit with searing precision.
“Eddie, Eddie, I’m gonna— Please, Eds, I—”
Not even bothering to pull away, he moans his pleas right into your pussy. “Give it to me, baby. Mmmph, give it to me, sweets. Taste so fuckin’ good—”
The tone he’s using, the way he pauses after every other word to slurp and lap at your quivering folds, almost makes it feel like he’s not even talking to you. Or maybe not just you. But it’s like he’s speaking directly to your weeping cunt, pleading for more—more arousal to devour, more fluttering pulses to tickle his tongue.
Your brows contort in pleasure as tears prick at your waterline—almost there, almost there.
Suddenly, you miss the pressure of his mouth for a split-second while you hear a sucking sound, then your chest wracks with desperate sobs as you feel him slip a single finger inside you.
“Oh, god! Oh, fuck!”
His other hand holds your hips down, blunt nails sinking deeper into the surface of your skin as electricity speeds along a high-strung coil—crackling and tight—just below his large palm. But the coil soon snaps when he starts to drag his long, thick finger against your velvety walls, thrusting in and out—gentle yet firm in his actions.
“Eddie, Eddie, oh, fuck!”
Unmade and raw, all you can do is babble incoherent whines and pleas as he teases you even past your orgasm, his tongue working your clit until it throbs to the beat of your racing heart.
When your legs start shaking from overstimulation, you finally gather enough strength to push on his head—appealing for mercy.
Like he’s not ready to part from you just yet, Eddie doesn’t yield to your push, though he does begrudgingly grant you reprieve. But he stays between your legs, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s not just breathing deeply to catch his breath. The way he inches infinitesimally closer, the way he won’t let your thighs close—it’s like he’s reveling in your heady scent—
“Fuck, you’re so pretty when you cum. Squeezin’ my finger so hard. God, this was just one, baby,” he boasts, utter glee defiling his already dirty words.
You whimper. One finger, and you felt so full.
In response, he garnishes your twitching pelvis with wet, sloppy kisses, like he’s searing a promise into your skin—
His hands do their best to hold your hips down, allowing him to take a tour of the tops of your thighs, the divot where your folds meet your legs, your mound—soaked and slobbered on by his overzealous mouth.
Peering down your body, open-mouthed and desperate, you nearly mewl at the way his eyes are glazed over. He looks drunk on the taste of you. Completely and utterly wasted. What’s more, his face is covered in you.
All the way up to his nose, his skin shimmers in the light, glistening with your juices. But he doesn’t seem ashamed of the indecent display. Instead, he seems proud. Proud to wear you on him—like a badge of honor.
“Eddie, please. I want more,” you whine, breathless from the come-down.
“Pretty girl,” he purrs, nuzzling your thigh, “so desperate. Am I turning you to the dark side already?”
You shudder at his smug grin, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about his overly-inflated ego. Your mind is mush, and all you can think is his name prefaced by the dangerous word “my.”
“Please,” you mewl.
His grin widens, and you note the hunger no longer hidden in the dark brown of his irises. Because he’s not aiming for decency anymore. Not in the way he’s eyeing you like you’re a meal and he’s famished, and not in the way his words are rife with untapped desire.
“Alright, pretty.” He pats your thigh before backing away from you. “Up on the bed.”
It’s a soft order. A gentle command as he grabs your forearms and helps you scoot your hips all the way onto the mattress before letting go, allowing you to shuffle to the top of the bed.
Once your head hits the pillow, he watches you settle into place, shoving the untucked sheets out from beneath you and off to the side. Without taking his eyes off of your movements, he works to remove his jeans, shoving them down his legs, along with his boxers.
Now that your moans have ceased, the room is so quiet, he can hear your sharp intake of breath when his hard cock bobs free from its constraints. He bites his lip at the subtle shock shifting across your face. It’s flattering, but more than anything, he’s leaking at the thought of fitting inside you.
“That’s— You’re—”
Every one of your sentences seems to die on the first word, and he watches your thighs clench as your focus stays on his thick length.
Heat warms Eddie’s cheeks as he tries to stop the smile from overtaking his face. He shouldn’t be like this—he should be calm, cool, and collected, but clearly exceeding your expectations has him feeling a myriad of things. Giddy, confident, smug…eager.
Mindlessly, he wipes a hand down the lower half of his face, gathering your slick arousal on his palm, then collects the precum pouring from his ruddy tip, and spreads the combination of juices over the expanse of his thick cock. He grants himself a firm, teasing squeeze as he steps toward you, but quickly detours to the bedside table to rifle through the top drawer.
“I’ll make sure it feels good, don’t worry. You’re gonna help me with that,” he says lowly, then stills his searching hands as he looks to you for a nod of agreement. When you give it to him, he smiles fondly. “Good girl.”
A quiet huff of amusement escapes him when he hears your strained whimper—the way you so obviously try to keep yourself quiet, but can’t help it.
He’s starting to catch onto what you like. How you like to be spoken to. And your responses are addicting. The clench of your thighs, the pulse of your walls. The need that crawls up your throat like it’s fighting its way out of you.
He desperately wants to know what else his words can elicit. Or maybe even try something more than his words—
His body warms as he wonders what you’ll sound like when you’re wrapped around him. His mind conjures its best guess at the noises you’ll make when his thrusts knock the air out of you, like sweet rasping melodies meant to torture him.
He wants to know just how shrill your cries will get when you’re nearly there, searching for just a little bit more.
But most of all he wants to hear the sweet words that will slip past your loose lips, your mind too cockdrunk to stop the affection you’ll share. The secrets you’ll spill. God, he’s aching to hear you.
If he could, he’d lock you in his room and run experiments on you for a week straight—just to find out what makes you tick. He’d take you apart piece-by-pretty-piece, just to put you back together again. He’d hold you tight and play with you passionately, like you were his favorite toy.
His.
Drawn from his thoughts by your shifting body, his attention diverts to the box of condoms he manages to find deep in his bedside drawer. He tears at the paperboard and pulls one out, showing you the foil packet before ripping it open—
“Safe sex,” he declares, sliding the oily-feeling latex out of the wrapper.
His wry smile widens to a goofy grin when you giggle at his words, easing the tension.
“Stupid,” you mutter, knocking your shin against the side of his thigh as he hovers near the head of the bed, putting the condom on.
Once he’s done, he crumples the wrapper in his hand, glancing over at you before throwing it on the cluttered surface of the nightstand. “You sure you wanna do this?”
You roll your eyes, smirking. “Yes, Eddie. You already ate me out.”
That leaves him frowning—
“Sweetheart, just because we did that doesn’t mean you have to continue. We can be done. Nothing more needs to happen if you don’t want it to.”
You remain silent, only staring up at him with so much…something…in your gaze, it makes him want to fold in on himself like the discarded foil. And he thought the ease with which you crossed his wires was bad—
“I know,” you mutter softly. “But I want to. With you. Will you…. Will you take care of me?”
Eddie’s breath hitches, and there’s a stinging feeling behind his eyes—one he knows all too well.
You sound so small, so nervous. As if he could ever deny you something that was meant to be yours. His care. His devotion.
“‘Course I will.”
He nods one too many times, entranced by the way you seem so delicate under his watchful eyes.
Delicate because you’re asking him to take care. In the way he’ll touch you. The way he’ll guide you. The way he’ll—
Slowly, he steps closer. You scoot to the side, making room for him to knee his way onto the bed.
His hands brush your ankles, featherlight affection smoothing up your legs, stopping at your knees. With the utmost reverence, he gently parts them, settling between your thighs.
“You look so pretty like this. I mean…you look— Well, you look…pretty all the time,” he nervously amends, eyes flitting over your face, but never any lower.
He wants you to know he means you. You’re pretty. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Not because you have a gorgeous body, but because you are gorgeous.
You shift beneath him, avoiding his gaze and, instead, focusing on pulling him to you. Softly. Needily.
He follows your guidance, leaning over you until his hands land beside your head. And just like before, he’s memorizing the moment. Every twitch of your brows, every flutter of your lashes, every quiet breath from your pleasure-bitten lips.
Below, you glance to the side, find his wrists, and wrap your hands around each one, as if grounding yourself in his touch. Only then—when his pulse beats wildly against your fingers—do you meet his eyes.
Wandering palms—soft and unfamiliar in their affection—travel the length of his arms, pausing over black ink, then continuing up until they reach his biceps. He shivers as you hum, squeezing the corded muscles that lay twitching restlessly beneath heated flesh.
“You’re pretty, too,” you murmur, sliding your palms back down and rubbing at his wrists.
Eddie chuckles, then swallows. “No, I’m not.”
The subtle twitch of your brows, the split-second peek at the budding frown that says you disagree has him beating you to your rebuttal—
“Not like you.”
His heart leaps in his chest as your hands suddenly drag his face to yours, like you’re about to kiss him with overwhelming need. But you don’t complete the motion.
And neither does he.
Because he’s not sure he can come back from all of this if he kisses you.
If you allow him to have you in that way—
He’s not sure he’s strong enough. Not enough to feel you like that, to close his eyes and claim your lips like they belong to him, and then go about his life like he never felt it. The beat of your heart against his, pounding in nerves and want. The truthful desire dancing from your mouth to his.
He couldn’t go back to living a lie. To live like he doesn’t think about you every single day. Like he doesn’t wonder what you’re doing when you’re not with him. Like he doesn’t do the most mundane shit and spends the whole time thinking about how much better it would be to do it with you.
So he doesn’t kiss you. He can’t. Not when you’re not his to keep.
Instead, he leaves a delicate, chaste brush of an almost-kiss to the corner of your mouth. Again.
Another cop-out from a coward.
You struggle to contain your disappointment, resigning yourself to the fantasy in your head. The imagined taste of his tongue tangling with yours. And with wanton hands, you reach for his hips, subtly pulling him closer.
“Need you,” you mutter, hearing the hitch of his breath as you whisper the plea against his mouth.
“Fuck— Okay.”
You watch as he reaches for his length. Taking a strong grip, he guides the thick tip along your slick folds, gathering your wetness.
The raw combination of moan and a sigh leaves your lips—an accidental slip portraying just how much you’re aching for him.
“It’s gonna feel a little weird, like…pressure. Okay? But you gotta let me know if it hurts, sweets, you hear me?”
Your fluttering eyes, panting mouth, and rolling hips aren’t enough of a response, apparently, because his voice grows firm.
“Hey, pretty girl, you with me?”
“Mhm,” you whine, nodding your head.
“What did I tell you?” he asks, smoothing a thumb down your temple before tapping three times.
“Um, you— you said, um, if it hurts, I'll tell you.”
“Good girl.”
His muttered praise leaves you mewling, inching your hips closer to him, looking for more—yearning for it.
Your mind devolves into pure static as he presses his thick tip into you slowly. Through bleary eyes, you see his teeth sinking deep into his lower lip, like he’s fighting to maintain his composure. For a moment, you wonder what it must look like from his point of view—the way your folds open up to him, welcoming the intrusion, ready to wrap around him in a vice grip.
“Oh, god. Mmm.”
Your features crumble at the sensation of dull pressure—exactly what he warned you about. It doesn’t hurt, it just leaves you wanting more, like you’ll find reprieve once he’s fully inside you.
“How you doin’, baby? Need a break?” he rasps, kneading your thigh gently.
“Need more.”
“Fuck, y’want more? Wanna feel more o’ me?”
You whimper and nod, your heart racing as his slurred words drag you down into the flaming pit of desire.
Your mouth parts in a silent gasp when you feel him press deeper inside of you, his stiff length sliding past your walls. Your ribs contract and expand in raucous breaths the moment you see just how much of him is left. He’s just barely got the tip in—
As your gaze creeps up his body, you realize Eddie hasn’t looked down once, not to where you’re connected. You wonder if it’s self-preservation or if maybe it’s part of his care for you. The way he watches your face intently, like he’s monitoring every slight change in expression leads you to believe it’s the latter. Probably both, really.
But you’re thankful he’s looking, because he immediately notices when the pinch in your brows shifts from pleasure to a wince of discomfort.
His hand is on your face in a second, smoothing the crease between your brows and petting your hair soothingly.
“Baby, you okay? Is it too much? You feelin’ pain?”
You shake your head stubbornly, sucking in a deep breath, leaving your mouth open and panting as your gaze stays glued to the sight of him inside of you. You notice it’s not just the tip, he also gets impossibly thicker through the middle of his length, and you’re sure that’s what you’re feeling now—
“Hey, look at me.” His thumb catches your chin, guiding your eyes to meet his. “I can make you feel good, but I need you to help me out. Tell me what you’re feeling.”
Something flashes in the molten color of his irises and he leans down, brushing his lips against your cheek. You practically preen as he grants you a sweet kiss, and part of you—the rotted, selfish part—wonders if feigning pain would allow you to finally taste him properly, all smoky mint and dancing tongues—
“Let me make you feel good, baby,” he implores.
“‘S just a pinch, ‘s just— It’s fine,” you placate, rubbing your hands gingerly down his sides.
“Alright, we’re gonna wait here, and you tell me when I can move, or if you wanna stop. But in the meantime, try to relax all your muscles. Sometimes we get all tense, even when we don’t mean to.”
You nod hesitantly, taking a few more deep breaths, making a conscious effort to drop your shoulders and let your muscles rest. After a full minute of breathing, resting, and leaning into his soft palm on your warm cheek, you nod again.
“Okay, you…you can move now.”
But he doesn’t. Not yet. As if trying to discern the truth, Eddie just studies you for a moment. Then he moves, inching further into you.
When your jaw goes slack at the feeling of fullness, you hear a rumble of sound, like a groan that’s been cut off too early, and you have half a mind to ask him if he needs a break. But before you get the chance, your words catch in your throat as he rests lower on you.
“Pretty girl,” he coos, his hot breath tickling your ear, leaving your cunt pulsing with need.
Then a hiss—the kind that sounds like it’s bordering on pain, but is only one degree away from pleasure—escapes his lips, and you realize just how tightly you were squeezing him.
Then, suddenly, he bottoms out, the firm, jolting movement forcing all air from your lungs.
“Oh, good girl,” he huffs out, voice strained. “You’re doin’ so good for me, taking me so well. How’s it feel, sweets? Think you like it? Wan’ more?”
Struggling to turn pitiful mewls into actual words, you nod your head fervently, reaching down to press your palms against his hips. “Mmm, wan’ more. Please, Eddie.”
For the first time, he glances down, and you hear him choke at the sight. Electricity prickles across your delicate skin, and the sting of your teeth sinking into your lip does nothing to disrupt your giddy hum as you try to push him away.
In the dark shade of his eyes, you can tell he recognizes your movement as a very desperate, unsuccessful attempt at getting him to pull out—to chamber a thrust. And he seems utterly amused—
“Oh, baby, did you want something? You wanna do the work? Help me out like a good girl?”
Something deeply raw and needy peels from your throat in response, and you silently rejoice when he pulls back, aiding your efforts. Unfortunately, it’s only a couple inches because—to your burgeoning frustration—he’s following your guidance, and your arms don’t reach nearly as far as you need.
But you’ll take anything right now; desperation is cooking your nerves and boiling your insides.
So you sink your nails into his hips and pull him back to you with a sudden yank.
Your mouth drops open at his shallow thrust, unintelligible noises of debauched need tumble past your parted lips.
Clawing at his soft skin, you struggle to set up another thrust. “Please, please— I need more.”
“More? But you’re doin’ so well all by yourself,” he condescends, eyes twinkling with hunger as he lets you push and pull him. “Look at you go, pretty girl. Makin’ yourself feel so good. What an independent little woman.”
His teasing shakes you to your core because it’s so him. It’s your best friend, just in a new scenario with unfettered access to your body and pleasure. God, you’ve allowed him too much power—
“Eddie! Please! I’m— I need it. I need you…”
Amusement washes from his face and you pout as he pauses, as if admiring a view. Then he ducks down.
“Whatever the princess wishes,” he murmurs lowly, lips brushing against the heated skin of your cheek, syrupy sweet affection dripping from every word. Gently, he pulls out, nearly all the way.
The mewl that was halfway out of your mouth catches like a lock clicking into place. A loud, desperate cry comes out in its stead—a reckless, candid response to the deep gut-punching thrusts barreling into you. They’re not hard, not rough, but firm. Controlled. Resolute.
Like he wants you to feel it. Feel him.
You chase your breath in his rutting hips, surrendering to the affection he’s searing into you with every pass of his stiff length against your pulsing walls.
Red streaks paint his milky-white skin, blooming beneath your hurried hands like a casualty of your desire. Curses, groans, and harsh gasps fall from his slackened jaw. Heat bubbles deep in your core, rivaling the warmth of the salacious words he whispers into your flesh.
“Shit, you feel so good, sweets— Oh, god, wan’ you to be— Fuck!”
Tears flood your waterline as you stare at the ceiling, features permanently fixed in shattered pleasure. Your mind struggles to hold onto the hitch in his breath, the unfinished sentence you’re dying to hear. But the sensations are overwhelming. Every nerve in your body is sparking—all livewires itching to explode.
All you can say is his name, all you can feel is him, and yet, it’s still not enough—
“Eddie, n-need m-more, ple—aseee!”
“Ah, fuck, baby, I know. I got you—”
Eddie glides his tongue over the pad of his thumb before reaching between your legs and circling your swollen clit.
And suddenly, it’s like lightning has struck the furnace deep in your core, shooting high voltage shocks up your body until you grow so hot you’re almost cold. A sensation of fullness takes over, like you’re mere seconds from bursting.
Delirious with passion, your hand flies down to stop his movements—to stop what you know is coming.
“H-Hold on, I— Eddie, I need to— I wanna feel you! Please, please, let me—”
Your needy sobs have him slowing down until he stills inside of you, chest heaving and damp with sweat.
“What— You can feel me. Aren’t you feelin’ me, sweets?” He reaches his hand up to the space just below your navel, pressing in only slightly.
You whine from the pressure, and your cunt flutters around him in rhythmic pulses like it’s trying to entice him back into movement.
And, God, you can feel him—
He’s burrowed his way deep inside you, but it’s still not enough—
“No— Yes, I— Oh, god, I c-can feel you. I just—” Your words melt into a whimper as you squeeze your eyes shut. The feeling of warm wetness slides down your cheek.
You’re vaguely aware of a dip in the bed on either side of your head, and as you blink away the blur, you realize Eddie has dropped to his elbows over you, caging you in.
His lips trace the track of the tear in reverse, starting first beneath your jaw, then up the expanse of your face. But his mouth doesn’t open—it’s not a trail of kisses. Just a soothing glide of soft pink, collecting salt water.
“What do you wanna feel?” he asks patiently, like he’s ready to bring your deepest desires to fruition.
When you don’t respond, he brushes his lips against the thin skin of your eyelids in short, delicate kisses.
“I’ll do anything for you, baby. Just tell me what you want—”
The raw truth of his statement rings in your ears along with a prayer in the shape of your name—reverent, impassioned, desperate. The tone has you questioning when the god became the devotee.
Your eyes flutter open as you peer up at him.
“Wanna feel you. All of you. I don’t want— I don’t want anything in between,” you whisper, your gaze flitting between his earnest attention and his glistening lips, wet with your tears.
Eddie’s mouth parts slightly, a look of quiet shock mixing with curious disbelief as he tilts his head, like he’s observing you for any lapse in conviction. But there’s none to be found. You’re certain you want this. So he gives a single nod, yielding to you.
Before he can even shift his weight, you’re already pushing at his hips again. He lets you move him until he slips out, then your eager hands reach for his hard cock, sheathed in thin latex.
The calm Eddie found since ceasing his thrusts starts to dissipate as he watches your movements with rapt attention.
Acutely aware of the expansion of his ribs on every breath in, the scent of sex and your perfume permeating his olfactory receptors has any semblance of control quickly leaving his body.
The sensation is like a loss of inhibitions. Like he’s gorged himself on you and now he’s utterly wasted. And he knows from personal experience, he doesn’t make the best decisions when inebriated—
The reminder that he’s here for you—that he’s supposed to be the one guiding you—is hard to hold onto when you’re expertly drawing him back into you, teasing yourself with the thick, ruddy tip of his cock, painting your folds with dribbling precum.
He shudders at your wrecked moan, your eyes smoked out with hunger and desire and nothing else as you leer at his flexing length.
“F-Fuck, sweetheart, are you sure about this?”
You only hum in response, deep in focus.
“Unh, unh, look at me.”
Eddie’s thumb catches just beneath your chin, drawing your attention to his hardened features. The moment your far-out gaze focuses on him, he struggles to ignore the way your pupils have almost eclipsed any trace of color in the iris.
But then your attention falters, your eyes slowly glide down to his mouth, your lips parting like a call to him—
He adjusts his grip, his thumb and fingers digging into your cheeks.
“No, up here, pretty girl.”
Tipping your chin up, he manually fixes your gaze to his.
“Are you sure you want this?”
As if words are too difficult to drum up, you whimper imploringly.
And all it takes is one warning tilt to his head and you’re righting yourself. Forcing the words to come—
“Yes! God, please. I need you…”
Satisfied, Eddie nods, taking a moment to revel in just how gone you are for him.
“Okay.”
Another pitiful whimper escapes your closed mouth as you push harder into his grip—wanting, asking.
Knowing exactly what you’re missing—a quick learner in the language of your desperation—a smirk curls at his lips. “Good girl—”
Then he sinks into you in one quick, deep thrust that carves a half-scream, half-gasp from your chest.
His shoulders drop at the feeling of your wet heat, your greedy walls, hugging every square inch of his cock, gripping onto him like a lifeline.
“Oh, fuck, baby. Shit, y’gotta stop squeezin’ me like that. You’re not gonna give me enough time to pull out,” he mutters, dragging his hips back and slamming into you, starting a brutal pace.
Tears flood your waterline once more as you cry out for him, your hands touching, groping, and grabbing every bit of muscle you can get ahold of.
Your knees drop open as your hands blindly reach for his hips, pulling him in for impossibly deeper strokes.
“I’m— E-Eddie, I—”
“I know, baby. I know,” he chants, holding on desperately to the last shred of his sanity.
Ducking lower onto you, he shifts his weight to reach between your thighs and circle your clit. With an open-mouthed pant, he watches as your eyes roll back, your loud moans drowning out the vulgar sound of skin slapping.
His gaze flits across your face, memorizing your pleasure-shocked features like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to see this particular crease in your brows, this heavy-lidded trance. Panic fills his bloodstream as he realizes it might very well be the last time—
And if it’s the last time, maybe he’s allowed to be selfish. One time. Just this once—
“Fuck it,” he breathes out, dipping down until his mouth capture yours, swallowing every last moan.
Your palms fly to the sides of his head, dragging him further onto you until the range of motion in his hand severely shrinks under his own rutting hips. You lick into his mouth like you’re trying to taste yourself. Overwhelmed with desire, he begins to lav his tongue into you the same way he devoured your cunt earlier.
Your responding mewls leave him trembling, and he worries over the tightening in his abdomen, the coiling heat deep in his gut. He starts to pull away, but he feels pressure at his hips. You’ve wrapped your legs around his waist, locking your ankles, leaving him no way of escaping your hold. Fuck, you’re going to be the death of him—
“Baby, we can’t— I gotta— I need’ta pull out,” he slurs against your mouth.
“Please don’t,” you whine, spit-slick lips haphazardly forming around the pitiful plea.
Eddie feels his chest crack open with raw, tortuous longing. Hips faltering to a grinding rhythm, he lets his shoulders sag under the pressure of wanting—the weight of possession. All it would take to claim you, all it would take… is just to let go. To make you his.
He’s not strong enough—
“Please don’t,” you repeat, gliding your hands down his damp skin until you still at his lower back. With a foggy mind driven by the most basic desire to claim—or rather, be claimed—you muster all your strength and press your palms hard into his spine, dragging him to you.
Following a groan that sounds suspiciously like a surrendering cry, Eddie pulls his hips back just enough to shallowly thrust into you. They’re firm, breathtaking strokes that feel like he’s trying to permanently burrow beneath your flesh, and his mouth glides over yours in a messy, blind display of drunken need. It’s a thorough loss of all space and you revel in it.
Eddie’s thumb starts circling your clit with renewed vigor, sending spasms shooting down your legs so strong that your ankles unhook. Like two magnets repelling each other, they go flying to the bed, twitching and convulsing.
Deep in your core, you feel a magmatic pressure that just builds, and builds, and builds, until something snaps—
Arching into him, you cry out as your body goes weightless, and your mind floats into the ether once more.
His groans, his grunts, the smacking of skin on skin—every sound echoes as you move further away from your mind. Vaguely, you’re aware of his faltering thrusts, his hungry lips devouring. Your mouth might be moving in tandem with his, or maybe you’re babbling incoherently, it’s unclear—all your senses are fried.
All you’re certain of is the sinking of your body. Deeper than the mattress, deeper than the floor. Down, down, down—you’re dragged into the pit of sated desire while your soul soars high above you.
“Ah, s-shit, baby— I—”
By the time you find your way out of the depths—crawling back to him—you register the tail end of shivers wracking his entire being. His arms haven’t loosened around you and his softening cock is still twitching and flexing inside of you, goaded by every pulsing constriction of your warm walls.
Nosing into your cheek, Eddie pulls back for a second, just to get a look at you—to memorize.
What he sees is exactly what he expected—
Something he could never forget.
Something he could never be normal about.
In your eyes, in soft pants, in the flutter of lashes over mascara smudged skin—he sees you.
Just you.
A glutton for punishment, he licks his lips, savoring the taste of you before dipping down for more. One more.
Like he’ll never live long enough to see you walk out of his room—his sweat staining your skin, his spend safe inside you—he kisses you, slow and rottingly sweet. Swallowing every sigh, stealing every breath—he prays to you with selfishness in his heart.
“I felt something,” you mumble against his mouth, pressing your hands to his shoulders.
Ignoring the ache in his chest—the kind that blooms when space starts to grow between his body and yours, like a weed whose roots never truly die—he forces a laugh that crumbles to dust in his throat.
“Well, yeah…. God, I hope so,” he huffs, all strained amusement and bitter jokes.
A small smile pulls at your lips. “No, I mean.… I mean— You said, um, earlier, you said…”
While you struggle to find the words, his touch seems to act as a hindrance to your search. Your breath hitches and your eyes flutter as he smooths his thumb over your sweat-soaked hairline.
“You said if I was gonna sleep with— If I was gonna f-feel nothing with a stranger, then I should…feel nothing with you.”
Realization dawns on him, almost at the same time he decides this conversation shouldn’t take place with him inside of you—
“Maybe we should—”
“No!” You stop his movements, pressing your fingers into his hips before he can slip away. “Please, don’t! Don’t— Don’t go.”
Eddie watches your features soften from panic into an amalgamation of nerves and reserved urgency. The mess of emotions darkening your once-twinkling eyes are enough to stop his movements, but he still wishes every square inch of him could liquify and seep through the floor of the trailer until he reaches the earth. Maybe then he could be free of your dominance over his heart—
“Okay. Okay.” He nods, placating.
Shifting above you, his attention oscillates between your wide-eyed stare and the space on your neck he kissed like he owned it. Then, as if he suddenly forgot how to behave like a human, he sucks his teeth and fumbles to respond—
“What, uh, what did you feel?”
Your nails sink into him with a pinch, but by the way you seem lost in your own head, he doesn’t think you’re aware. Then—
“W-What— Um, did you…feel…anything?”
He stares for a moment, considering your evasion of the question, but then he looks to your neck once more.
A million thoughts zoom through his mind like advertisements on big city buses. He can’t discern all of them, but one has YOU written in what he’s certain is your handwriting. Another says everything in posh, looping cursive. A third one is void of any advertisements, and unfortunately, that’s the one that stops for him—
“I don’t think it matters,” he mutters, avoiding your frown. “It’s— I’m not the one who lost their virginity.”
You cock your head to the side, the kind of movement he knows means you’re not letting him slip by. “Yes, it does.”
Your tone bites at him, scrambling the illusion until he’s a clear picture of vulnerability, bare under your hardened gaze.
“I just mean, it matters more how you felt. If you— If I made you comfortable. Doesn’t matter how I felt,” he tries, wondering how likely it is that he could be struck by lightning indoors, on a sunny day—
Because you’re looking at him like he’s eighteen again. Like he’s stupid and boyish and easily breakable. But there’s something else in your eyes—
Something that makes him feel almost mendable.
“No, but it does matter how you felt. How you feel. It matters. I care how you feel. I wanna hear what you think,” you implore, holding onto his wrists beside your head. You press the pads of your fingers into his pulse and he worries you’ll feel it before he says it—
“But did you—”
“Yes, I felt good. Yes, you did a good job taking care of me. Yes, I felt safe. Now how did you feel?”
“I feel like— I don’t want you…to…” He closes his eyes, hanging his head. “I feel like I wish you were mine,” he says, letting a humorless chuckle float out of his mouth and electrocute the air with tension. “And I feel like calling up Jimmy and Chris just to curse them out for being the ones you thought of first.”
In the loll of his admission, something shifts in your features, and every molecule of air leaves his chest like you just rolled a grenade at his feet, unpinned and already three seconds deep into the fuse delay.
As if you have nothing better to say, you pluck the lowest hanging fruit—
“Well, technically you suggested Chris,” you half shrug.
Charged silence fills the room like rushing water until he blinks at you.
“Okay.” He begins to back away, ignoring your grasping hands.
Your face falls. “No, I’m sorry! I— That was a joke! ‘M sorry, it was stupid—”
“Okay,” he repeats flatly, peeling your fingers from his bicep. He pulls out of you smoothly, pretending not to hear the low whine deep in your throat—
“Eddie, no! Don’t— I love you!” you utter quickly, as if the words will act as a balm upon his burning skin—the skin that broils under your touch. And for a moment, he almost accepts it. He’s so selfish with you—
But when your eyes grow wide, like you hadn’t meant to let something so damning slip past your lips, he realizes the truth—
He was right.
He doesn’t leave you to explain yourself—doesn’t wait for you to quantify the secret.
“It’s okay,” he answers your worried gaze. “I told you, sex has weird feelings attached to it. Things get said in the heat of the moment, it’s all good.”
Hopefully, if he repeats the sentiment enough, he’ll start to believe it too.
But instead of appreciation, he sees indignation warp your face.
“I’m sorry, where have you been? The heat of the moment was five minutes ago,” you huff, eyeing him like you can’t even begin to comprehend his level of delusion. “True, I didn’t mean to say it just then. But I felt it. I have felt it. For…” you laugh, a humorless sound that grates Eddie’s heart, “years.”
And suddenly, he feels like he got his wish—
Every muscle in his body has turned to mush, every nerve is frayed, every wire is uncrossed—
“I’ve—” you pause, then scoff. “Like, Jesus Christ, Eddie! Do you know how long—”
He melts into you, his lips on yours, his hands on your face, holding you right where he needs you most—
Swallowing your surprised moan, he takes your needy grip in stride—every bite of painted nails against pale burning flesh, every tug and drag, seeking a closeness he craves to sate.
“I don’t care,” he slurs against your mouth, too intoxicated to hear how much time he’s missed out on. Then he pulls back a fraction of an inch, instead deciding he wants to know every single detail—even the painful bits—
Even if just to hear you talk—
“Well, I do care,” he amends. “I just—”
You peer up at him through heavy lids and a teasing grin, and he feels too far from you.
“Not right now,” he drawls, unable to think past ‘I love you, too.’
A/N: Please say nice things about this, it took so fucking long lmao.
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description: eddie munson teaches you the fine art of not giving a fuck. it starts with skipping class and smoking behind the park, escalates to trespassing, shoplifting, and ends… well, somewhere between a "stolen pool" and your first....
pairing: eddie x you (fem!reader)
tags: eddie x you, no y/n, corruption, slow burn, friends to lovers, reader insert, grunge romance, slight angst, hurt/comfort but like eddie style, based on the song "teenage dirtbag" (duh), shoulder nudges as a love language, resident freak encourages delinquency, eddie doing dumb shit to make you laugh, stealing rich people's pools, shoplifting but make it cute, lowkey voyeurism, "worth the wait"
TW: NSFW (18+) minors do not interact!!!, PiV, unprotected (what's new), smoking, drinking, mention of parental alcohol abuse, bullying
WC: 6.8k
A/N: requested by @ggdawgg HOPE U ENJOY BESTIE!!!
pumping out fics to distract me from crashing out and texting this man😀 also, i thought the dividers would be fitting LMAO
reblogs are always appreciated <33
enjoy loves xoxo
By the time you were old enough to understand what people were saying when they lowered their voices as you walked by, they'd already made up their minds about you anyway.
Your father had disappeared when you were seven. Some people said he ran off with another woman somewhere down in Indianapolis, others insisted he'd gotten himself arrested, and there was even an old rumor floating around The Hideout that he'd wound up dead in a ditch halfway across the state.
Your mother never corrected anyone. Most days she couldn't remember what she'd told one person from the next, usually too busy sitting on the front porch with a cigarette hanging from her lips and something stronger than beer hidden in a paper bag at her feet.
As the years passed, she became less "that poor woman whose husband left" and more "the drunk over on Maple."
Kids snickered when she stumbled through the grocery store. Adults looked away when she nodded off at church picnics. The police knew your address without needing directions.
By association, everyone knew you too.
It didn't seem to matter that you always said yes when Mrs. Henderson needed help carrying groceries to her car, or that you babysat Dustin Henderson for practically nothing because you knew they couldn't afford much more.
It didn't matter that you stayed after class to help clean paintbrushes in art or volunteered at bake sales or smiled politely at teachers who looked at you with barely concealed pity.
You ironed your own clothes because your mother wouldn't. You packed your own lunches. You left early enough every morning to stop and make sure she hadn't fallen asleep with the stove on or a cigarette lit. You did everything in your power to prove you weren't her.
Still, every time attendance got called, somebody found a reason to laugh. "There she is."
"Bet her mom's plastered already."
"My dad says their electric got shut off again."
"I heard she steals."
The funny thing was, you never actually defended yourself anymore.
You'd tried when you were younger. Tried explaining, tried arguing, tried insisting they were wrong, only to discover that people who enjoyed believing the worst about someone rarely changed their minds because of facts.
So eventually you just kept your head down, smile, take your notes, go to work after school, come home, repeat. It was easier that way.
Or at least it had been until one Tuesday afternoon when Tommy Hagan decided the cafeteria was a suitable stage and announced to half the room, "Wonder who her mom will sleep with next. My money's on Carver's dad. He's always had an infatuation with the less fortunate."
The laughter came exactly when expected, almost comforting in its consistency. You looked down at your tray, swallowed hard enough that your throat hurt, and simply kept walking.
No comeback. No tears. No scene. Just another Tuesday. You were halfway to the table by yourself when somebody else spoke instead.
"Damn."
The voice was lazy, amused in that way that always made it impossible to tell if Eddie Munson was joking or dead serious.
"What an asshole."
Tommy rolled his eyes. "Mind your business, freak."
Eddie looked around theatrically before pointing at himself. "Me? I thought I was minding it just fine."
A couple chuckles scattered through the room. Tommy scoffed and walked away with his little entourage, deciding it wasn't worth getting into another screaming match with Hawkins High's resident freak.
You figured that was the end of it. It wasn't.
The next day you sat down at your usual empty table near the windows, unpacked your lunch, and had barely taken one bite before someone dropped onto the bench across from you with all the grace of a falling tree.
You looked up. Messy curls and a grin that looked entirely too comfortable on someone who was supposedly as intimidating as everyone insisted. "Hey."
"...Hi."
He pointed across the cafeteria with his carton of milk. "That guy's still an asshole."
Despite yourself, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. "I've noticed."
"I heard what he said yesterday."
"So did everybody."
"Doesn't make him less of an asshole."
You shrugged and peeled the corner off your napkin without really thinking about it. "People say stuff."
"They say stuff about me too."
You let out a tiny laugh through your nose. "Yeah, but you're Eddie Munson."
"So?"
"So... you don't seem to care."
He leaned back, studying you for a second before giving the smallest shake of his head. "Nah."
The answer came so quickly you almost believed it. He reached over and stole one of your fries before you could protest. "I care a lot."
Your eyebrows shot up.
"I just figured if everyone already thinks I'm Satan reincarnated, I might as well give 'em something interesting to gossip about."
That earned a real laugh, quiet but unmistakable. For a second, he just looked at you, then he smiled too. "There it is."
"What?"
"I've seen you around for like... two years? First time I've seen you produce a real smile."
Your face immediately warmed. "I smile."
"Nope. Not like that."
"I do."
"Haven't seen it."
"Maybe you're not looking."
"Nah, sweetheart." He popped the stolen fry into his mouth and pointed at you like he'd solved some impossible equation. "I think you've just been trying way too hard to convince everybody you're not who they already decided you are."
You looked down at your lunch again. "...Maybe."
Then, almost casually, he shrugged. "For what it's worth..."
You glanced back up.
"I don't think you've gotta convince me."
It became something of an unspoken routine after that. Nothing dramatic, nothing anybody else would've noticed if they were looking in from the outside.
Eddie would throw himself into the seat across from you at lunch like he'd been doing it his whole life, steal a handful of fries or half your dessert if you happened to bring one, complain about whichever teacher had irritated him that day, and somehow manage to make you laugh at least once before the bell rang.
He never asked to walk you home, never pried. Never asked about your mother or why your sleeves always smelled faintly of laundry detergent, or why you looked perpetually exhausted by first period.
He just... sat with you. It was strange, really. Most people in Hawkins saw you as a cautionary tale. Eddie looked at you like you were actually a person.
A week later, after another particularly bad evening of listening to your mother cry over somebody who had been gone for nearly ten years, you found yourself doing what had quietly become your own ugly little habit.
You waited until she finally passed out on the couch. Walked three blocks with your jacket pulled tight around yourself. Slipped behind the abandoned picnic shelter at the park where nobody could see you from the road.
Then, after checking over your shoulder twice despite knowing there was nobody around, you dug into your pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes.
You hated them. You hated the smell. You hated the taste. You hated the way your fingers smelled after.
Every single drag made your chest ache and your eyes water. But for five minutes, all you had to think about was breathing in and breathing out, nothing else.
The lighter clicked as the end began to glow orange. You leaned back against one of the support beams, staring out into the empty darkness beyond the playground.
"You know those'll kill you."
Your entire body jerked so violently you nearly dropped the cigarette.
You whipped around to find Eddie standing a few feet away with both hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, looking almost apologetic.
"Oh, my God!"
"Sorry."
"You scared the shit out of me."
"I gathered."
Your face immediately flushed as you instinctively tucked the cigarette behind your back.
For a second, he just looked at you before reaching into his own jacket pocket and pulling out a pack.
"...Really?" He held it up, "I feel like we're past pretending."
Your shoulders relaxed just enough to pull your own hand back into view. He wandered over and leaned against the wooden railing beside you, taking a drag before looking out over the empty park.
"I always figured you hated me."
Your eyebrows pulled together. "What?"
"You look at me like I'm contagious."
"I don't."
"You kinda do."
"No, I..." You laughed quietly to yourself. "I just thought you thought I was pathetic."
He turned so fast he looked genuinely confused. "Why the hell would I think that?"
You shrugged. "'Cause everybody does."
He stared at you for another second before huffing out a laugh through his nose. "Jesus."
"What?"
"You really believe that, don't you?"
You didn't answer, so he looked back out into the darkness. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why do you care so much what these assholes think?"
You looked down at the cigarette between your fingers. "I don't."
"Bullshit."
"I don't."
"You apologize when people bump into you."
"...So?"
"You help every old lady in Hawkins carry groceries. You volunteer for school shit nobody wants to do."
You sighed. "So?"
"So, none of it's for you."
Your jaw tightened. "I'm just trying to prove that I'm not..."
He finished it for you. "...your mom."
You stared at the ground. "My dad left."
He nodded once. "I know."
"I just..." You swallowed. "I keep thinking if I can just be good enough then eventually people will realize I'm not gonna end up like her."
Eddie actually laughed, not meanly, more out of disbelief.
You frowned. "What's funny?"
"They won't. They already decided who you are."
You looked over at him.
"They've had your whole life to change their minds. They haven't."
You hated how quickly tears threatened your eyes. "So what am I supposed to do?"
He looked over at you like the answer was obvious. "Fuck 'em."
You blinked. "What?"
"Fuck. Them."
"Eddie—"
"No, seriously." He flicked ash onto the pavement. "You could cure cancer tomorrow, and half this town would still whisper about your drunk mom."
You stayed quiet.
"You could save somebody's life. You could become valedictorian. You could go to church every Sunday. And Tommy Hagan's still gonna call you trailer trash because it makes him feel better about himself."
You stared out into the empty darkness.
"So stop trying."
Your eyebrows knit together. "...Stop trying?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
"That's terrible advice."
"It is."
"You know it is."
"I do." Another tiny smile tugged at his mouth. "But tell me I'm wrong."
You couldn't. Because somewhere deep down, in the place you tried very hard not to look at, you knew he wasn't.
He turned to face you fully now. "You spend every damn day trying to prove to people who don't care that you're worth something."
His expression softened just a fraction. "They don't get to decide that."
He nudged your shoulder with his. "You know what I'd do?"
"What?"
"I'd give 'em something to actually bitch about."
You looked at him like he'd grown another head.
"I'm serious, “ he grinned. "Skip class."
"No."
"Steal a stop sign."
"No."
"Spray paint Principal Higgins' parking spot."
"Eddie."
"I'm brainstorming."
Despite yourself, a laugh escaped, and he pointed at you immediately. "See? You’re considering it!"
You rolled your eyes. "You're a bad influence."
He smiled wider. "Nah."
He bumped your shoulder again. "I just think life's a hell of a lot easier when you stop begging people to like you."
You looked back down at the cigarette between your fingers. Then quietly asked, "And if they hate me?"
His answer came so fast it almost overlapped the question. "They already do."
You frowned, and he shrugged. "So you might as well have some fun."
By the time you got home that night, your mother's bedroom door was shut. You didn't bother checking if she was asleep; you already knew she was.
The television droned quietly from the living room, throwing blue light across the peeling wallpaper while an empty bottle sat on its side where she'd left it earlier in the evening.
You stood there for a second, keys still dangling loosely from your fingertips, looking at the familiar scene with the same detached exhaustion you'd carried for years before quietly setting your bag down and making your way toward your room.
You should've done your homework. Should've packed your lunch. Should've folded the load of laundry that had been sitting in the dryer since yesterday. Instead, you sat on the edge of your bed and stared at your bedroom window.
"So stop trying."
The words refused to leave your head. You'd spent so much of your life worrying about what people thought of you that the idea of simply... not caring felt impossible.
You almost laughed when you got to the picnic shelter and found him already there.
Eddie was sitting on top of one of the weathered tables with one boot planted on the bench beneath him, lazily flipping a guitar pick between his fingers like he'd been expecting you all along.
The second he noticed you, the corner of his mouth curled upward. "I was beginning to think you were responsible."
"I am responsible."
"Ah. My mistake."
You rolled your eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"Hanging out."
"By yourself?"
"For about..." he checked an imaginary watch on his wrist. "...forty-seven minutes."
"That's kind of sad."
"It is."
You stood there awkwardly for another second before shoving your hands into your jacket pockets. "So..."
"So,” then he suddenly hopped down from the table. "Wanna commit a crime?"
You blinked. "...Excuse me?"
He pointed dramatically toward the road. "Nothing huge."
"Eddie."
"Nothing illegal-illegal."
"Eddie."
"Victimless." He grinned, "Mostly."
You stared at him, and he stared back. "...I'm kidding."
You visibly relaxed.
Then he added, "Unless you say yes."
"I am not committing a crime."
He shrugged. "Suit yourself."
He started walking anyway. Curiosity got the better of you after about twenty feet.
"...Where are you going?"
He glanced over his shoulder. "Benny's."
"The diner?"
"The abandoned diner."
"It's closed."
"Very observant."
"Eddie."
"What?"
"We can't just..."
He raised an eyebrow. "...Walk inside?"
"Yes."
"Sure we can."
"No, we can't."
"We absolutely can."
"No."
He looked at you for a second before smiling that stupid smile again. "You comin' or what, sweetheart?"
You should've gone home; you knew that. You knew it with absolute certainty. Instead, after one quick glance up and down the empty road...you followed him.
The chain-link fence surrounding the old property had long since been bent out of shape in one corner, creating an opening just wide enough to squeeze through if you turned sideways.
Eddie slipped through first with practiced ease before holding the fence open for you with an exaggerated little bow.
"M'lady."
"This is trespassing."
"It absolutely is."
He didn't even sound concerned. You ducked through anyway.
The parking lot was cracked apart with weeds growing through the pavement, faded yellow lines barely visible beneath years of neglect. The old sign still hung crookedly above the building, half the letters missing, while dark windows reflected only the moonlight overhead.
You suddenly became very aware of how quiet everything was.
"Eddie..."
"Hm?"
"What if somebody sees us?"
"They'll think we're teenagers."
"We are teenagers."
"Exactly."
He reached the side entrance and gave the handle a tug. Locked.
He frowned dramatically. "Foiled."
A second later, he leaned down, reached beneath a loose cinder block, and triumphantly pulled out a rusty spare key.
Your jaw dropped. "Eddie."
"What?"
"How did you know that was there?"
He slid it into the lock. "I have my secrets."
The door creaked open with enough noise to make you physically cringe.
Dust floated lazily through the beams of moonlight pouring in through broken windows while overturned stools still rested upside down on counters exactly where they'd been left years before. Everything smelled faintly of mildew and old coffee.
You looked around slowly. "This is..."
"Kinda cool?"
"Kinda creepy."
"I'll take that."
The two of you wandered quietly through the empty diner, your fingers ghosting over chipped countertops and faded booths, every little sound seeming amplified in the silence.
You paused in front of one of the old menus still bolted to the counter.
Cheeseburger. $2.15. Coffee. 40¢.
You smiled to yourself. Then all the lights overhead suddenly flickered.
You froze. "Eddie."
No answer. "Eddie?" Silence.
You slowly turned, and he was gone.
"...Eddie."
A low voice echoed somewhere deeper inside the kitchen. "You should not have entered this place..."
You immediately covered your mouth, trying not to laugh.
"...for many years..." The voice dropped lower. "...the spirit of Benjamin has wandered these halls..."
You rounded the corner to find Eddie standing half-hidden behind the old serving window with both hands raised dramatically in the air, eyes rolled upward in what had to be the worst ghost impression ever performed by a human being.
"...searching eternally..."
His voice deepened another octave. "...for the teenager who last desecrated this place."
You snorted. He continued anyway. "...many have entered..."
He slowly pointed toward an old stain on the floor. "...none have survived..."
Your shoulders were already shaking. He took one giant theatrical step forward. "...except Gary."
You blinked. "...Who's Gary?"
He pointed randomly toward an overturned booth. "I don't know, some virgin, probably."
Another pause. "He seems alright."
That was it. A laugh burst out of you so suddenly and so loudly that it echoed through the entire empty building, the kind that made your stomach hurt.
When you finally caught your breath enough to look back at him, Eddie wasn't talking anymore.
He was just standing there with his hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets, looking at you with the tiniest smile you'd ever seen on him.
"What?"
He shook his head once. "Nothing."
"What?"
"I just..." He looked down at the floor before letting out a quiet little laugh. "I don't think anybody's made you laugh in a really long time."
The smile faded from your face, replaced by something softer.
"...No."
He nodded as if he'd already known the answer. Then he looked around the abandoned diner before grabbing an old salt shaker off one of the tables and setting it carefully on top of the jukebox.
You frowned. "What are you doing?"
He looked back with complete seriousness. "Leaving evidence."
Your eyes widened. "Eddie."
"Gotta keep 'em guessing, hon."
Looking back on it later, you wouldn't have been able to pinpoint the exact moment things started getting out of hand. There wasn't some grand declaration, no dramatic pact.
No night where you suddenly decided to become a completely different person. It happened the way sunsets happened, so slowly you didn't notice until it was already dark.
The first "crime" had been wandering through Benny's abandoned diner and leaving a saltshaker on the jukebox as “proof of entry”.
Then it was climbing onto the roof of Hawkins High after midnight just to watch the stars because Eddie insisted they looked better from up there.
Then it was buying one gas station soda and sharing it because neither of you had enough money for two. Then it was skipping the last period on Fridays because "Coach barely takes attendance anyway."
Then somehow...
You found yourself sitting on top of Skull Rock with your legs dangling over the edge, a warm beer balanced between your knees while Eddie attempted to explain why Black Sabbath was objectively superior to every other band in existence.
"I don't think objective means what you think it means."
"It absolutely does."
"No."
"It does when I'm right."
"You are impossible."
"I'm also correct."
You took another sip and immediately grimaced. "This tastes disgusting."
He looked genuinely offended. "It's beer."
"It's awful."
"You'll acquire the taste."
"I don't want to."
"You will."
"I won't."
Three weeks later, you'd stolen half of his can before he'd even asked. The scary part wasn't that you were changing; it was how easy it was.
One Saturday afternoon the two of you wandered aimlessly through Starcourt with exactly eleven dollars between you, neither of you intending to buy anything because neither of you could afford to.
You drifted through little novelty shops, picking up snow globes and cheap plastic rings and tiny stuffed animals before putting them back exactly where they belonged.
Eddie stopped in front of a rack of ridiculous keychains. He picked up one shaped like a tiny rubber chicken. Held it up, looked at you, looked back at the keychain, then quietly slipped it into his jacket pocket with all the subtlety of someone hiding a television.
Your eyes widened. "Eddie."
"What?"
"You just stole that."
"I did no such thing."
"I watched you."
"You have no proof."
"I literally saw it."
He leaned in conspiratorially. "Allegedly."
Five minutes later, he casually dropped the little rubber chicken into your hands while pretending to examine baseball caps. "For you."
You looked down at it. "...Why?"
He shrugged. "It looked stupid."
You laughed. "I love him."
"I knew you would."
The next store over, your eyes landed on an embarrassingly ugly pair of fuzzy six-sided dice hanging from a rotating display. Purple. Covered in silver glitter. Absolutely hideous.
You looked around once, twice. Your heart hammered so loudly you were convinced everybody could hear it. Then your hand darted out almost involuntarily before shoving them into your pocket. You practically speed-walked out of the store.
By the time Eddie caught up with you outside, your face was bright red.
He stared. "...Did you?"
You silently pulled the fuzzy dice from your jacket. For exactly three seconds, he looked completely speechless. Then he started laughing so hard he had to lean against the side of the building.
"You committed a felony for ugly fuzzy dice."
"I know."
"They're hideous."
"I know."
"I love them."
You shoved them into his chest. "They're yours."
His smile softened almost immediately. "For me?"
"They looked like something you'd hang in the van."
He looked down at them, then back at you, then quietly looped them around his fingers. "They're the nicest thing anybody's ever stolen for me."
From then on, it became something of a game. Nothing valuable and certainly nothing useful. Just tiny, ridiculous little things.
A plastic dinosaur. A guitar pick with flames on it. A novelty lighter that barely worked. A little ceramic gnome. An ugly pin with a smiling hot dog on it. Cheap friendship bracelets. A pair of sunglasses with one cracked lens.
Each one ending up in the other's pocket with no explanation beyond, "Saw it. Thought of you."
It wasn't about having things; neither of you really had anything. It was about choosing something absurd and deciding that it belonged to the other person.
The biggest offense came a month later. You and Eddie sat in the grass across from the Hawkins water tower while he shook a can of black spray paint absentmindedly.
He looked at it, then at the tower, then at you, then back at the tower. "...Terrible idea."
"Horrible."
"We absolutely shouldn't."
"Nope."
Silence.
"...Wanna?"
You looked at the water tower, looked back at him. Thought about every report card you'd brought home. Every teacher you'd smiled politely at. Every grocery bag you'd carried for strangers. Every time someone had looked at your mother's face and decided they knew yours too.
Then you looked back at Eddie. "...Yeah."
The climb was terrifying; your knees shook the entire way up. Halfway up, you almost turned around. So, when he noticed your hesitation, he reached down, grabbed your hand without saying a word, and helped pull you onto the platform.
Your breathing hadn't settled by the time he handed you the spray can. "You do it."
Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. "No."
"You should."
"I can't."
"Sure you can."
"I've never spray-painted anything."
"So make it memorable."
You looked over the sleeping town stretched out beneath you. Every little house. Every little street. Every little person who thought they already knew exactly how your story ended.
Your thumb pressed down as the black paint hissed into the cool night air. In embarrassingly uneven letters, you wrote exactly two words.
FUCK 'EM.
You stared at it. Then immediately covered your mouth with both hands as laughter escaped you. Not because it was particularly funny, but because it felt impossible.
Eddie looked at the words, then started laughing too. The kind that echoed into the darkness. When the laughter finally died down, he bumped your shoulder with his.
Quietly, almost fondly. "I like you a lot better like this."
You looked over. "...Like what?"
He smiled at the town below. "The version of you that isn't apologizing for existing."
One day, Eddie's shoulder would brush yours, and you'd think nothing of it. Next, you'd find yourself looking around the cafeteria for him before you even realized you were doing it. Then suddenly every stupid thing he did became inexplicably funny.
Every time he walked into a room, your eyes followed him without permission. Every time he leaned over your shoulder to point something out in a comic book or hand you the lighter or steal your cigarette, your brain seemed to short-circuit for reasons you couldn't quite explain.
You tried very hard not to think about it. Mostly because it was Eddie; everybody knew Eddie flirted with everyone.
Everybody knew Eddie called half the female population of Hawkins "sweetheart." Everybody knew Eddie was just... Eddie.
Besides, you had more important things to worry about than some embarrassingly obvious crush.
Which was exactly what you were trying to tell yourself while staring at him instead of paying attention to whatever story he was currently in the middle of telling.
He stopped midsentence. "...Hello?"
Your eyes blinked. "Hm?"
"I lost you."
"I was listening."
"You absolutely were not."
"I was."
"What did I just say?"
You looked at him confidently. "...Something profound."
He burst out laughing. "Sweetheart, I was talking about Wayne accidentally super-gluing his fingers together."
"See? Profound."
He shook his head. "You are hopeless." The unfortunate part was that he wasn't entirely wrong.
By the time Founders Day rolled around, the rest of Hawkins seemed determined to spend the afternoon pretending the town was charming.
Children ran around with balloons tied to their wrists. Families wandered between food stands. Music drifted through the streets. Little American flags poked out of flower pots and storefront windows.
You and Eddie were approximately as interested as two stray cats.
Instead, the pair of you disappeared into the woods behind one of the nicer neighborhoods bordering town, settling beneath a cluster of trees, swapping what seemed like endless amounts of joints back and forth.
The conversation drifted lazily from one topic to another, interrupted every few minutes by laughter over absolutely nothing.
At some point, Eddie had ended up stretched out flat on his back beside you, one arm folded behind his head while the other lazily pointed up through the branches.
"I still think that cloud looks like Ozzy Osbourne."
You squinted. "...That's a squirrel."
"A very metal squirrel."
"It has ears."
"So does Ozzy."
"I don't think that's his defining characteristic."
He looked over at you. "I think you're judging me."
"I absolutely am."
He clutched dramatically at his chest. "How rude!"
The breeze pushed through the leaves overhead while somewhere in the distance fireworks cracked faintly against the afternoon sky. You rolled onto your side to look at him, but he was already looking at you.
Neither of you immediately looked away. Your stomach did something deeply inconvenient. So naturally… you blurted out the first ridiculous thing that came to mind.
"...Let's go swimming."
He looked around. "In...the forest?"
"No."
"Okay."
You pointed vaguely through the trees toward the expensive houses on Loc Norah beyond them.
"The rich people."
His eyebrows lifted. "The rich people?"
"They all have pools."
"They do."
"They're all at Founders Day."
"They probably are."
"So..." He slowly sat up. "...Are you suggesting we trespass?"
You smiled innocently. "No…I'm suggesting we very politely borrow their pool."
He stared at you for a long moment, then a grin spread slowly across his face. "Holy shit."
"What?"
"You've officially become the bad influence."
"I have not."
"You absolutely have."
"I think it's community service."
He laughed so hard he had to put his head in his hands. "Community service."
"They aren't using it."
"You are unbelievable."
"So are you coming or not?"
He stood up, brushing leaves off his jeans. "I'd follow you into active traffic at this point."
The neighborhood was eerily quiet. Massive houses sat empty beneath the afternoon sun, perfectly trimmed hedges lining pristine walkways that looked like nobody had ever actually walked on them.
You both crouched behind somebody's decorative bushes, trying very hard—and failing—not to laugh.
Eddie whispered, "We're gonna get arrested."
"No, we're not."
"We absolutely are."
"We're invisible."
"You are giggling."
"I'm whisper-giggling."
"That's somehow worse."
You covered your mouth, shoulders shaking anyway. Finally, you reached the backyard fence.
You looked at Eddie. "...Well?"
He vaulted over first before reaching a hand back for you. The second your feet hit the grass, the two of you looked around one last time before dissolving into another fit of laughter for absolutely no reason other than the absurdity of existing there.
Eddie looked over at the perfectly still water before glancing back at you. "So... now what?"
You shrugged. "I don't know."
"We didn't exactly think this through."
"No."
Then, with absolutely no warning whatsoever, you kicked your shoes off and sprinted across the backyard.
His eyebrows shot up. "Wait—" You didn't.
You reached the edge of the pool and jumped anyway, the splash echoing through the quiet neighborhood before your head broke back through the surface a second later, immediately pushing your soaked hair out of your face.
The first thing you saw was Eddie still standing exactly where you'd left him, staring at you in complete disbelief.
You grinned. "C'mon!"
"We are absolutely getting arrested."
"We're already trespassing."
"Fair point."
He looked around one last time before muttering, "Fuck it," kicking off his own boots and launching himself in after you.
The resulting wave soaked both of you, earning another uncontrollable fit of laughter as he surfaced, coughing dramatically and slicking his curls back out of his face.
"Oh, that's cold."
"It's the middle of July."
"It's still cold."
You rolled your eyes. "You're ridiculous."
"I've been told."
For the next ten minutes neither of you did much of anything besides drift lazily around the pool and make complete idiots of yourselves.
You splashed him, and he retaliated by creating a tidal wave large enough to drench your face. You accused him of attempted murder. He insisted it was self-defense.
At one point he disappeared entirely beneath the water only to grab your ankle a second later, making you shriek loud enough that both of you immediately froze and looked toward the dark house.
Nothing happened. The silence lasted exactly three seconds before the two of you were laughing all over again. Eventually the laughter faded on its own, and the water settled with it.
You floated onto your back, staring up at the stars beginning to appear overhead while distant music from the Founders Day fair drifted faintly through the trees.
For a little while, neither of you spoke. You were just... there. Weightless. Peaceful. You turned your head just enough to find Eddie floating only a few feet away, looking over at you instead of the sky.
"What?"
He smiled. "Nothin'."
"No, what?"
He shrugged. "I just don't think I've ever seen you look..."
He searched for the word. "...happy."
Your expression softened. "I don't think I have been."
He drifted a little closer without seeming to realize he was doing it. "So..."
"So?"
"I'm glad you're here."
Your stomach immediately betrayed you. "I'm glad you're here too."
The distance just seemed to disappear all on its own until your shoulders brushed beneath the water, creating tiny ripples that spread lazily across the otherwise still surface.
You looked at him. His curls were dripping into his eyes, his denim vest abandoned somewhere in the grass, his stupid rings catching little flashes of moonlight every time his hand skimmed through the water.
He looked back at you with that same familiar softness he'd somehow always reserved just for these quiet moments.
His voice came out barely louder than the water around you. "...Can I kiss you?"
Your ears turned pink. "I was kinda hoping you'd ask."
The kiss itself was awkward in the sweetest possible way, interrupted almost immediately by the fact that neither of you had accounted for the simple logistics of trying to kiss while floating.
You bumped noses. He accidentally laughed into your mouth. You both pulled back, laughing just as hard, trying again only to nearly lose your balance and send another wave sloshing between you.
"Oh, my God."
"I'm trying."
"I can tell."
"I'm doing my best here."
"You suck at this."
"I've literally never kissed you before."
"Fair."
He looked at you for another second before gently reaching up and brushing a wet strand of hair away from your face. Then, slower, he leaned in again.
Just the quiet press of his lips against yours while the water rocked softly around you and fireworks bloomed somewhere beyond the trees, hidden from view. When you finally pulled apart, you stayed close enough that your foreheads rested together.
Then Eddie let out the tiniest laugh. "So..."
The water lapped gently around your shoulders as you stayed close, foreheads still touching, breaths mingling with the faint chlorine scent and the distant pop of fireworks.
Eddie’s eyes were dark in the low light, that familiar mix of chaos and softness that always made your chest ache in the best way.
“So?” you echoed, voice barely above a whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips.
His thumb brushed your jaw, slow and reverent, like he was still processing that this was real. “So… I’ve been wanting to do that for a stupid amount of time.”
“Yeah?” You tilted your head, letting your nose graze his. “Took you long enough, Munson.”
He huffed a laugh against your mouth and closed the distance again. This kiss was less clumsy, and more certain.
His hand slid into your wet hair, holding you steady as the water rocked you both. Your arms looped around his neck, bodies pressing closer beneath the surface, legs brushing in the cool depths.
Somewhere along the way, it turned hungry, tongues meeting in a slow, exploratory glide that sent heat pooling low in your belly despite the chill of the pool.
He tasted like summer and stolen moments, and when he nipped at your bottom lip, you couldn’t help the soft sound that escaped you.
Eddie pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours again, breathing hard. “Fuck… you’re gonna kill me.”
You grinned, fingers tracing the damp curls at the nape of his neck. “Not yet.”
Another kiss, messier this time, laughter bubbling up between you as you both tried to stay afloat without completely tipping over. His hands roamed down your back, over your hips, pulling you flush against him.
You could feel him, half-hard already through his soaked jeans, and the realization made you bold. You rocked against him experimentally, earning a low groan that vibrated through his chest.
“Sweetheart…” he murmured, his voice rough. He glanced toward the dark house, then back at you, eyes gleaming with that reckless spark you loved. “You wanna do something really illegal?”
Your pulse jumped. “Define illegal.”
He jerked his head toward the cabana at the far end of the pool: a fancy little pool house with wide glass doors, loungers visible inside, probably some rich asshole’s private oasis.
“In there. With you. Right now.”
You bit your lip, heat flooding your cheeks even as excitement coiled tight in your core. “Yeah. I do.”
He kissed you once more, quick and fierce, then helped boost you out of the pool. You both dripped across the grass, giggling like idiots as you tried to stay quiet, shoes forgotten somewhere behind you.
The cabana door was unlocked, because of course it was in a neighborhood like this, and Eddie ushered you inside first, sliding the door shut behind him with a soft click.
A wide daybed took up most of one wall, piled with towels and cushions. Eddie turned to you, water still dripping from his curls, his expression suddenly softer.
“You sure?” he asked, voice low. “We can just make out. Or not. Whatever you want.”
You stepped closer, peeling your soaked shirt over your head and letting it drop with a wet slap.
“I’m sure. I mean, I haven’t, like, done it with anyone else before. But I’ve… you know.” Your voice dropped, a little shy but steady. “I know what I like.”
Eddie’s eyes widened. “Shit. That’s… yeah. Okay. Fuck, that’s hot.” He reached for you, hands gentle on your waist as he walked you back toward the daybed. “Tell me what feels good, alright? We go slow.”
Clothes came off in a tangle of wet fabric and breathless laughs. Your shorts and underwear, his jeans sticking stubbornly until you both nearly fell over trying to help. Naked, he was all lean muscle and ink and those damn rings he didn’t even think to take off.
He laid you down on the soft cushions, hovering over you, kissing you deeply as his hand slid between your thighs.
You were already slick, and when his fingers found your clit, circling with surprising patience, you arched into him with a gasp. “Eddie—”
“Like that?” he murmured against your neck, kissing down to your collarbone. He took his time, learning you, adding a finger when you rocked against his hand and whispered for more.
The stretch was new but welcome, especially with the way he praised you in that wrecked voice, so good, so wet for me, fuck you’re perfect, until you were trembling on the edge.
When you finally tugged him up, legs wrapping around his hips, he looked at you reverently. “Still good?”
“Yeah. Want you inside me.”
He groaned, reaching down to line himself up. The first push was slow, careful, the blunt head of his cock stretching you open.
It burned a little, but you breathed through it, hands in his hair, urging him deeper.
“More,” you whispered, surprising even yourself with how steady you sounded. “I can take it.”
Eddie’s hips stuttered, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna ruin me.”
He sank in inch by inch, gentle but relentless, until he was buried to the hilt. You both stilled, foreheads pressed together again, breaths ragged.
“You okay?” he asked, voice strained.
You rolled your hips experimentally and moaned at the full feeling. “Move, Eddie. Please.”
So, he did. Slow, deep thrusts that built steadily, his mouth on yours, on your neck, whispering filthy-sweet things between kisses.
You surprised him again when you clenched around him deliberately, nails digging into his back, urging him faster.
The gentle rhythm shifted, turning hotter, needier. He hit that perfect spot inside you, and you cried out, legs tightening around him.
“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you,” he panted, one hand slipping between you to rub your clit. The pressure coiled tighter, and when it finally snapped, you came hard around him, pulling him over the edge with you.
Eddie buried his face in your neck, groaning your name as he spilled deep inside, hips jerking through the aftershocks.
For a long moment, you just held each other, hearts pounding, skin slick with pool water and sweat. He kissed your temple, lazy and soft. “Holy shit.”
You laughed breathlessly. “Yeah.”
Then, the backyard floodlights snapped on with a harsh buzz. Voices carried faintly from the house. “What the hell—?”
“Shit!” Eddie’s eyes went wide. You both scrambled up, grabbing clothes in a frantic tangle, still half-naked and laughing hysterically as you bolted for the door.
He yanked it open, you shoved his jeans at him mid-run, and the two of you sprinted across the grass toward the fence, wet footprints and discarded shirts left in your chaotic wake.
“Run, you beautiful criminal!” he wheezed between laughs, boosting you over the fence first.
You dropped to the other side, heart racing, adrenaline singing in your veins as he landed beside you. Hand in hand, still giggling like maniacs, you disappeared into the night, clothes askew, bodies buzzing, the stolen moment burning bright between you.
You'd never run so fast in your entire life.
The second somebody inside the house had shouted, every coherent thought in your brain had completely evaporated, replaced entirely by blind panic and the overwhelming instinct to get as far away from the expensive neighborhood as physically possible.
"Eddie!"
"I'm running!"
"I can see that!"
"Then why are you yelling my name?"
"Because I'm freaking out!"
"So am I!"
You were both laughing despite yourselves, tripping over roots and ducking beneath low branches as you tore through the woods with absolutely zero concern for where you were actually going.
Somewhere behind you, a dog barked.
You immediately grabbed Eddie's arm. "Oh, my God."
"It's fine."
"What if they're following us?"
"They're definitely following us."
"Eddie!"
"I'm kidding!"
"You are the least reassuring person alive!"
He reached back long enough to catch your hand, practically dragging you over a fallen log before the familiar outline of his van finally appeared through the trees.
"There she is," he breathed dramatically.
"My hero."
He fumbled with his keys, somehow dropping them twice before finally getting the door unlocked.
The second you both climbed inside, he slammed the doors shut, and the silence that followed seemed almost deafening.
You just sat there trying to catch your breath, exchanging one look before immediately dissolving into helpless laughter all over again.
"I cannot believe we just did that."
"I cannot believe we got caught."
"I cannot believe you said we were 'politely borrowing the pool.'"
"We were!"
"Eddie."
"We gave it back."
You laughed so hard your stomach hurt. He reached behind the driver's seat and blindly started digging through the pile of jackets, shirts, and miscellaneous clutter that permanently seemed to live in the back of the van.
Eventually, he triumphantly pulled out an old Hellfire shirt and tossed it into your lap. "It's clean."
You held it up skeptically. "...How clean?"
He paused. "...Cleaner than the floor."
"I'll take it."
You disappeared behind the open side door just long enough to tug it on before climbing back inside, the oversized sleeves swallowing your hands almost entirely.
The shirt smelled faintly of laundry detergent, weed, and whatever incense Eddie occasionally remembered to fumigate the van with after cyph sessions.
It was strangely comforting.
When you looked back over, he was already looking at you, and there was that stupid grin again.
"What?"
"Nothin'."
"Eddie."
"Nothin'."
"You keep looking at me."
"'Cause you're wearing my shirt."
"So?"
"So..." He rubbed the back of his neck with a laugh, suddenly looking far less confident than usual. "Looks nice."
Your face warmed immediately. "You think?"
"I know."
The adrenaline had started wearing off, replaced by something quieter. Something that suddenly made the cramped little van feel very small.
Eddie leaned back against the driver's seat, studying you with an expression that was almost disbelieving. Then he let out a quiet laugh to himself and shook his head.
"What?"
He looked at you again. "I've been wanting to kiss you for, like..." He paused dramatically, "...an embarrassingly long time."
You smiled. "I noticed."
"And now I finally can." His smile widened.
"...Yeah."
He reached over, tucking a strand of wet, messy hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness before pressing another quick kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then finally another soft one to your lips.
When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours for just a second and muttered with a little laugh, "Fucking finally."
You couldn't help smiling. "Took you long enough."
He looked mock-offended. "Me?"
"Absolutely you."
He pointed at himself. "I was being respectful."
"You were being a coward."
He gasped dramatically. "I have a reputation to uphold."
"You have many things."
"And?"
"Coward is one of them."
He laughed, nudging your shoulder. "Yeah..."
His voice was quieter this time. "Worth the wait, though."
description: after a messy breakup, being trapped in the upside down with your ex-boyfriend is the last thing you want. unfortunately, almost dying has a funny way of putting things into perspective.
pairing: eddie x ex gf!reader
tags: eddie x you, no y/n, exs to lovers, second chance romance, hurt/comfort, protective eddie, light(ish) post-breakup angst, satisfying fluff, crawl gone wrong, insisting on changing pairs, robin is sick of their bullshit, steve the relationship counselor
TW: violence, severe injury, blood
WC: 7.3k
A/N: based on a request by @enne02 hope you enjoy:)!! this one had me in my feels idk why LOL. reblogs are a writer's best friend<3 (if you know where this title is from, you know ball)
“Alright,” Steve said, pulling his arms tightly together. “Then it’s decided. Tomorrow, the girls will each wear an article of El and Max’s clothing to throw off the Demodogs.”
“They seem to be gunning for the two of them,” Dustin continued. “El for, well, obvious reasons. And Max, because she has dodged Vecna’s curse like, a thousand times. We add some of their blood to make the scent stronger, and some of Nancy and Robin’s to theirs, so the scent is thrown off. Sound good?”
“Yeah, I love being live bait,” Robin says sarcastically, scanning over to you and Nancy.
Nancy just nods in agreement before looking down at you on the couch.
“What about Will?” You ask, nodding over to the next room. He sat with his back to the group, eyes staring out the window ahead, headphones tight around his head. “Won’t their connection just immediately give this whole plan away?”
Jonathan sighs and closes the door, “He won’t be coming with us. He’s gonna stay at the squawk with my mom and Lucas in case Vecna’s spying. He won’t even be in communication with us.”
You nod once, flashing him a quick sympathetic smile.
“Alright!” Dustin claps his hands together. “Meet at Lover’s Lake gate sunrise tomorrow.”
The room filled with the sound of shifting bodies and tired sighs as everyone slowly stood from their spots around the Byers' living room.
Robin immediately groaned. “Awesome. Another sunrise meetup. Love that for us.”
“You complain every single time,” Steve muttered, grabbing his car keys off the coffee table.
“Because every single time we almost die, Steve.”
“Fair.”
Nancy was already gathering scattered papers from the table, slipping them into her bag with practiced efficiency. Jonathan disappeared toward the kitchen, mumbling something about coffee, while Dustin launched himself into explaining some other part of the plan to Mike for the third time that night.
You pushed yourself up from the couch slowly, exhaustion heavy in your bones. And unfortunately, your eyes caught Eddie’s from across the room.
He stood near the hallway entrance, arms crossed tightly over his chest, fingers tapping nervously against his forearm. His eyes flicked over you for barely a second before looking away just as quickly. Still couldn’t look at each other normally.
Cool. Normal. Totally fine.
You moved first, grabbing your jacket off the arm of the couch. “I’m gonna head out.”
“I’ll walk you,” Nancy offered immediately.
Before you could answer, Eddie suddenly pushed himself off the wall.
“I got it.”
The room went weirdly quiet for half a second. Robin’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline while Steve looked physically exhausted by the tension.
You stared at Eddie. “I think I can make it to the front door alone.”
“Wasn’t saying you couldn’t,” he muttered.
God. There it was, that sharp edge the two of you had been dancing around for months now.
Nancy glanced between the two of you carefully before stepping back. “Okay then.”
You brushed past Eddie toward the door, hearing his boots follow a second later.
The cold night air hit immediately once the front door opened, damp and sharp against your skin. Crickets buzzed faintly somewhere in the distance while the porch light flickered overhead.
You descended the steps first, and Eddie lingered behind you awkwardly.
“You really think this plan’s gonna work?” you asked quietly.
Eddie shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Nope.”
You huffed out a laugh despite yourself, and his mouth twitched faintly at the sound.
“But,” he added, softer, “it’s the best shot we got.”
You hated how easy it still was to stand beside him. Hated how your body still recognized him instantly. The smell of cigarettes and leather and that stupid cologne you bought him lingered in the cold air between you.
“You should probably get some sleep,” he said finally.
You glanced over at him. “You too.”
There was a moment of hesitation between you, then Eddie rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, curls falling into his face.
“Listen, about tomorrow—”
“We’ll figure it out. Night,” you said quickly, opening your car door and closing it just as fast.
“Night,” he muttered to himself, tapping the hood of your car once.
The Upside Down always felt wrong immediately.
The air was thicker here. Wet, heavy with rot and ash and something metallic that clung to the back of your throat every time you breathed too deeply.
The sky stretched above the group in angry shades of red and black lightning, spores drifting lazily through the air like toxic snow, every step squelching beneath your boots.
“God,” Robin muttered, pulling the sleeves of Max’s sweatshirt farther over her hands. “I seriously forgot how much this place smells like a dead animal’s asshole.”
“That is… unbelievably specific,” Nancy replied.
“It’s accurate, though.”
Steve ignored them, flashlight tucked beneath his arm as he unfolded the rough map Jonathan had drawn the night before.
“The crawlspace splits about a mile ahead,” Steve continued. “We cover more ground if we break into pairs.”
“Cool,” Robin nodded. “Dibs on not dying.”
Steve pointed around the group. “Nancy, you’re with Johnathan. Robin, you’re with Dustin and me—” He paused briefly. “Eddie, you and...”
“No.”
The answer left your mouth immediately. Sharp enough that even the distant growls echoing through the Upside Down suddenly felt quieter. Eddie’s head turned toward you instantly.
Steve blinked. “What?”
“I said no.”
You adjusted the shotgun strap harsher than necessary across your shoulder before looking anywhere except Eddie.
“What about Nancy?” you asked. “I’ll go with her.”
Steve shook his head immediately. “Nope. Both sharpshooters can’t be together.”
“Robin then.”
“Also no,” he replied. “You and Robin both have El's blood scent on you. Two El's means a dead giveaway.”
You clenched your jaw. Of course, there was a reason for everything; of course, it made sense. But still...
“No,” you repeated more quietly this time.
Steve sighed heavily like a tired father of six. “Seriously?”
You finally looked at Eddie, and big mistake. Because he looked just as frustrated as you felt, maybe even a little more exhausted from the situation than you were.
“Jesus Christ,” Robin whispered under her breath. “They’re divorced.”
“We were never married,” you snapped instantly.
“Yet,” Dustin mumbled.
You whipped around. “Whatever. Come on, Dustin.”
The kid blinked. “Wait, what?”
“You heard me.”
“Uh—”
“Dustin. Let’s go.”
Your voice cracked through the air hard enough that nearby spores trembled slightly as you shoved past the group toward the forest line. Dustin looked between you and Eddie like a hostage negotiator trying not to die.
Steve slowly lifted both hands. “Hey, Henderson?”
“Yeah?”
“I wouldn’t argue with an angry girl holding a shotgun.”
Dustin nodded immediately. “Excellent point.”
“Seriously?” Eddie muttered.
Dustin pointed apologetically at himself before jogging after you. “Sorry, man! Self-preservation!”
Robin watched the two of you disappear into the foggy tree line before glancing sideways at Eddie. “…So how bad was the breakup exactly?”
Eddie stared after you quietly for a long moment. “Bad enough,” he said finally, “that she’d rather walk into monster-infested hell with a fifteen-year-old.”
The three of them moved carefully through the wreckage of downtown Hawkins, flashlights cutting through the thick haze drifting between abandoned cars and crumbling storefronts.
Somewhere in the distance, something screeched. Robin immediately tightened her grip on the flare gun in her hands.
“Mm. Hate that sound. Really hate that sound.”
“Pretty sure that’s the point,” Steve muttered from the front.
Store signs flickered weakly overhead, vines pulsing slowly up the sides of buildings like veins beneath skin.
Eddie barely noticed any of it. Because every few seconds, his eyes kept drifting back toward the tree line where you and Dustin had disappeared twenty minutes ago.
“You know,” she said casually, “if you stare any harder, I think you might actually burn a hole right through the fog.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”
“No, seriously,” Steve added. “It’s getting pathetic.”
“I’m literally just walking.”
“You basically broke your neck turning around five seconds ago.”
Eddie scoffed softly and adjusted the strap of the spear against his shoulder. “She’s fine.”
Steve hummed knowingly. “Uh huh.”
The group ducked beneath a collapsed power line before continuing down the street.
Robin glanced between the two boys. “Wait, hold on. I actually don’t know what happened between you two.”
Eddie groaned immediately. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on,” she said. “We’re in hell dimension therapy hour. Spill.”
Eddie kept walking.
“Munson.”
“No.”
“Eddie.”
He sighed dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. “It was stupid.”
“That means it was definitely your fault,” Robin replied instantly.
“One-hundred percent,” Steve nodded.
Eddie shot both of them a glare before finally relenting. “Chrissy needed a ride home after a game one night.”
Robin blinked. “That’s it?”
“I didn’t tell her beforehand,” Eddie admitted.
Steve already looked exhausted. “Oh, my God.”
“I was going to!”
“But you didn’t,” Robin pointed out.
Eddie groaned louder. “Okay, yes, thank you, I gathered that much.”
Steve shoved aside a hanging vine as they entered the shell of an old grocery store. “So she saw you?”
“Yeah.”
Robin winced. “Oh, that’s brutal.”
“It wasn’t even like that,” Eddie argued quietly. “Chrissy was upset. Jason was being a dick. I just drove her home.”
“But from her perspective?” Steve replied. “Her boyfriend disappears for half the night with the prettiest girl in school.”
Eddie looked genuinely offended. “Why does everyone keep calling Chrissy the prettiest girl in school? That's not even half-accurate.”
Robin deadpanned. "Oh."
“You still love her,” Steve said it casually, like he was commenting on the weather.
Eddie kept his eyes ahead, flashlight shaking faintly in his grip. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Kinda does when you look one bad day away from throwing up every time she talks to another guy.”
Eddie let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well. She’s still pissed.”
Steve crawled up beside him slightly. “Did you ever actually apologize?”
“Shut up,” Eddie snapped, ears turning red beneath his curls.
Robin gasped dramatically. “Wait, wait, wait— is that why she’s so pissed? Because she thinks something happened with Chrissy?”
Eddie’s expression tightened slightly. Because yeah, that was part of it. But not all of it, not the real part.
The real part was that instead of fighting harder for you, instead of explaining, instead of chasing after you when you stormed away crying…He let you go.
And he’d regretted it every single day since.
Meanwhile, somewhere deeper in the woods of the Upside Down, you and Dustin trudged through layers of ash and rotting vines in tense silence. Well, mostly tense silence. Because Dustin physically could not stop talking if he tried.
“I’m just saying,” he continued carefully, trying to keep up with your pace, “from an outside perspective, I really don’t think Eddie cheated on you.”
You climbed over a fallen tree branch without looking at him. “Congratulations.”
“I’m serious!”
“Dustin.”
“No, because you weren’t there after, okay? He was literally miserable.”
You snorted softly. “Please.”
“I’m not kidding!” Dustin insisted. “The guy looked like someone kicked his puppy for, like… three months straight.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“He started listening to sad music.”
You glanced back at him dryly. “He already listens to sad music.”
“Okay, fair.”
Dustin ducked beneath a low-hanging vine before continuing. “But seriously, he didn’t do anything with Chrissy.”
You tightened your grip around the shotgun because it still stung hearing her name, even now. Especially now. Because logically? You knew Eddie probably hadn’t cheated. But emotionally, that night still replayed in your head perfectly.
Waiting for him, watching the clock, then seeing his van pull into the trailer park with Chrissy Cunningham in the passenger seat, laughing at something he said. And Eddie, sweet, oblivious, Eddie, looking happier with her than he had with you in weeks.
“You didn’t see them,” you muttered quietly.
Dustin sighed. “I saw him after.”
“That doesn’t change anything.”
“It should.”
You stopped walking suddenly, sending Dustin nearly crashing into your back.
“You know what the worst part was?” you asked, voice strangely calm.
The spores drifting through the air caught in your hair as you turned toward him.
“I would’ve understood if he just told me.”
Dustin’s expression softened slightly. “He always thought you were too good for him,” he admitted quietly.
That one hit harder than you expected, because yeah. You knew that already, too. Knew it every time Eddie got weird when boys looked at you too long. Every time he joked about you “slumming it” with him. Every time, he acted as if your love for him had an expiration date.
Your chest tightened unpleasantly, but before you could answer, something screeched in the distance. Both of you froze instantly.
Dustin’s face paled. “Uh…” Another screech, but closer this time. Wet. Animalistic.
You slowly lifted the shotgun. The woods around you suddenly felt very, very quiet. Then, movement, fast shadows darting between the trees. One. Two. Three—
“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Dustin whispered.
Demodogs, at least five of them. Their slick bodies slithered between the vines surrounding you both, snarling lowly as their flower-like mouths slowly opened.
You grabbed Dustin’s jacket instantly, shoving him backward. “Run.”
“You know what your problem is?” Steve asked as the three of them pushed through the hollow remains of Family Video.
Eddie sighed heavily. “Please enlighten me, Harrington.”
“You think if you screw something up once, that’s it.”
Robin nodded immediately. “Oh my God, yes. That’s exactly his problem.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “You two done psychoanalyzing me?”
“No,” Steve replied simply.
They stepped over collapsed shelves, boots crunching through broken VHS tapes scattered across the floor. Outside, thunder rumbled through the red sky.
Steve adjusted the nail bat over his shoulder before glancing back at Eddie again. “So...did you ever actually apologize?”
Eddie’s jaw tightened. “…Not really.”
Robin looked horrified. “EDDIE.”
“What?” he defended instantly. “Things got heated!”
“She cried and dumped you, and you just let her walk away!” Robin whisper-yelled.
Eddie scrubbed both hands down his face in frustration. “I didn’t know what to say!”
Steve laughed dryly. “Well, there’s your first issue.”
“I figured if she wanted to talk to me, she would’ve.”
Robin stared at him for a long moment. “Men are genuinely stupid.”
Eddie ignored her. “She looked at me like she hated me.”
“Because she was hurt,” Robin shot back. “There’s a difference.”
Eddie went quiet at that, because deep down? He knew. Knew every sharp comment and glare from you over the last few months felt more like woundedness than hatred.
Steve slowed slightly, expression softening just a bit. “Dude.”
Eddie glanced over.
“When this is over…” Steve shrugged. “Just apologize.”
Robin pointed at him enthusiastically. “YES. Exactly. Thank you.”
“Like a real apology,” Steve continued. “Not one of your weird little jokes where you deflect halfway through.”
“I don’t do that.”
“You absolutely do that,” Robin replied.
Eddie opened his mouth to argue, but static suddenly exploded through Steve’s walkie. All three of them froze instantly. A burst of panicked breathing crackled through the speaker. Then:
“STEVE?!” Dustin, terrified.
Steve grabbed the walkie immediately. “Dustin? What happened?”
More static, heavy footsteps, and your voice somewhere in the background, shouting something muffled. Then Dustin again:
“There’s— Jesus Christ— there’s like FIVE OF THEM!” A deafening screech echoed through the radio.
Robin’s face went white instantly. “Oh, my God.”
“We’re headed east through the woods!” Dustin yelled breathlessly. “They’re right behind us!”
Steve already started moving. “Stay moving. We’re coming to you.”
The radio crackled violently. Then your voice cut through this time, sharp and panicked.
“Dustin RUN!”
Eddie’s stomach dropped instantly. A loud gunshot exploded through the walkie. Then another, then static.
Branches snapped violently beneath your boots as you and Dustin tore through the woods.
The Upside Down blurred around you in flashes of red lightning and black vines, spores whipping through the air every time you shoved past another rotting tree. Behind you, there was screeching.
“LEFT!” Dustin yelled breathlessly.
You grabbed the back of his jacket, yanking him sideways just as a Demodog launched from the trees where he’d been standing half a second before. It hit the ground hard with a wet snarl. You spun instantly:
BOOM!
The shotgun blast echoed through the forest, the flare shell exploding directly into the creature’s chest. Fire burst outward, orange flames illuminating the dark woods as the Demodog shrieked and convulsed on the ground.
“Holy shit!” Dustin yelled.
“No time!” you shouted back. “MOVE!”
The two of you sprinted again. Your lungs burned as another screech split the air, then another. Then three more answered.
Dustin looked back once and immediately paled. “Oh, that is SO many.”
Shapes darted through the fog behind you. Fast, crawling over trees and vines with horrifying speed. One leaped from the side, and you reacted instantly, grabbing Dustin by the shoulders and throwing him down as the creature flew over both your heads.
You hit the ground hard beside him. The Demodog spun immediately, flower-mouth peeling open with a shriek. Dustin scrambled backward, fumbling desperately inside his bag.
“SHIT! SHIT! SHIT—”
The creature lunged, and a Molotov cocktail smashed against its face, fire erupting instantly. The thing screamed horribly, thrashing against the dirt while Dustin stared wide-eyed at the flaming bottle in his hand.
“…That was awesome.”
“Dustin!”
“RIGHT. MOVING!”
You hauled him upright again just as another creature burst from the trees, then another, and another.
Your stomach dropped. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
Because behind the Demodogs, towering above them in the fog…Demogorgons; at least two. Their massive silhouettes moved slowly through the trees, petals twitching open as they tracked the scent of blood soaking into the girls’ borrowed clothes.
“Okay,” Dustin said faintly. “I officially hate this plan.”
One of the Demodogs lunged. Boom. Another flare shell exploded through its jaw. The recoil nearly knocked your shoulder backward as you kept firing. One. Two. Three blasts. Fire illuminated snapping teeth and writhing vines while Dustin hurled another Molotov into the pack.
Glass shattered, and flames erupted across the forest floor. Still, more kept coming.
“Why are there SO MANY?!” Dustin yelled.
“I don’t know!”
A Demodog tackled you from the side before you could reload. You hit the ground hard enough to lose the shotgun entirely. The creature screeched directly in your face, claws slashing wildly as you shoved against its throat desperately, its teeth snapped inches from your face.
“GET OFF!”
You grabbed the knife from your belt and drove it upward into the creature’s neck. Black blood sprayed across your hands as the thing convulsed violently before collapsing on top of you. For one horrible second, you couldn’t breathe.
Then Dustin was there immediately, dragging the body off you. “COME ON!”
The trees ahead suddenly exploded with flashlight beams. Voices.
“THIS WAY!”
Steve. Robin. And then, your heart betrayed you instantly at the sound of his voice. He yelled for you, panicked and terrified; closer now. You turned toward the sound just as one of the Demogorgons burst through the trees.
“LOOK OUT!” Dustin screamed. You barely had time to move.
One massive claw swung forward, and white-hot pain exploded across your side. The force sent you flying backward violently into the dirt.
For a second, everything went silent. No sound. No air. Nothing.
Then warmth poured down your waist, and your hands instinctively grabbed at your sides. Blood, so much blood. Somewhere nearby, Dustin was screaming your name.
And across the clearing, Eddie stopped dead. Because you were on the ground, not moving.
“OH MY GOD—” Dustin’s voice cracked somewhere nearby as the others charged into the clearing.
Steve and Robin immediately started firing at the creatures still circling through the trees, gunshots and screeches echoing violently through the forest while flames spread across the ground from the broken Molotovs.
But Eddie? Eddie only saw you.
Blood soaked through your shirt in horrifying amounts, spilling between your fingers where you clutched desperately at your side. Your breathing came in sharp, uneven breaths against the dirt beneath you.
His stomach dropped so hard it physically hurt. “No no no no—”
He was beside you instantly, collapsing to his knees hard enough to draw blood. Your eyes fluttered toward him hazily, still conscious. Thank fucking God.
“Hey,” he breathed shakily. “Hey, stay with me, alright?”
You grimaced as another cough wracked through your body. Blood splattered across your chin, and Eddie visibly went pale.
“Jesus Christ,” Robin whispered somewhere behind him.
You sucked in a painful breath, immediately trying to push yourself upright. “I’m fine.”
Eddie stared at you in disbelief. “Are you insane?”
“I can still move.”
“You are literally coughing up blood!”
Another wet cough interrupted you immediately, like your body itself was trying to prove his point. You glared weakly at him afterward anyway.
“Don’t,” you rasped.
“Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that.”
Eddie’s face crumpled for half a second before he could stop it. Like that.
Like he was terrified, like seeing you hurt was physically ripping him apart from the inside out.
The sounds of fighting still echoed around the clearing. Steve yelling. Gunshots. Demogorgons screeching somewhere deeper in the woods.
But Eddie barely registered any of it as he pressed, shaking hands harder against the wound in your side. Blood immediately soaked through to his palms.
“You need pressure on this,” he said quickly, voice uneven. “Can you hold this?”
“I can walk.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Yes, I can.”
“You got launched ten feet through the air!”
You tried to sit up again anyway, and immediately regretted it. Pain tore through your side hard enough that a broken sound escaped your throat before you could stop it.
Eddie caught you before you could fall back completely, one arm wrapping around your shoulders carefully.
“There she is,” he whispered shakily. “That’s the stubborn girl I know.”
You clenched your jaw hard, humiliated tears burning behind your eyes. Not now, you refused to cry right now.
“I’m not dying in front of you,” you muttered weakly.
Something about that sentence completely shattered whatever composure Eddie had left. His eyes went glossy instantly.
“Hey,” he said softly, almost pleading. “Hey, don’t talk like that.”
Another scream echoed through the woods. Steve suddenly appeared beside them, blood splattered across his bat. “We need to move. Now.”
“Can she walk?” Robin asked urgently.
You opened your mouth immediately. “Yes.”
“No,” Eddie answered at the exact same time.
“I said I can—”
The second you tried to move again, your entire body folded from the pain, and a horrible gasp tore from your chest. And Eddie finally snapped.
“Jesus Christ, would you stop trying to be tough for five seconds?!”
The clearing went quiet for a second, and even you looked startled. Eddie’s breathing shook violently as he stared down at you, terrified and furious and heartbroken all at once.
“Please.”
That one word hurt worse than the injury. Before you could argue again, Eddie slid one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back.
You instinctively grabbed onto his jacket as he lifted you carefully against his chest. Pain exploded through your side immediately, making you gasp sharply into his shoulder.
“I know,” he whispered quickly. “I know, sweetheart, I got you.”
Sweetheart, your eyes shut briefly at the nickname, because he hadn’t called you that in months.
Eddie adjusted his grip tighter around you before looking toward the others. “Move.”
Nancy’s house in the Upside Down looked even worse from the inside.
The wallpaper peeled in blackened strips from the walls, vines crawling through cracks in the ceiling while spores drifted lazily through the stale air. The entire place creaked softly around them as if it were breathing.
Steve slammed the front door shut behind them while Robin shoved an overturned bookshelf against it.
“Are they following us?” she asked breathlessly.
“I don’t know,” Steve answered. “I don’t hear them.”
Eddie barely registered the conversation. The second they got inside, he lowered you carefully onto the couch and immediately dropped to his knees in front of you again. Your blood stained almost everything now.
The couch. His hands. Your shirt. The floor beneath your boots. It just kept coming.
“Okay,” Robin said quickly, trying to stay calm. “Okay, okay. Nancy keeps medical supplies upstairs, right?”
“Yeah,” Steve nodded immediately. “Bathroom closet.”
The two of them disappeared upstairs instantly. Dustin crouched nearby, frantic fingers fumbling with his walkie.
“Nancy? Jonathan? Come in!” Static answered him.
Your breathing hitched painfully again, and Eddie’s head snapped back toward you immediately.
“Stay with me,” he whispered.
You leaned weakly against the couch cushions, face pale beneath the layer of grime and blood smeared across your skin. Every breath looked harder than the last. Still, you forced out a weak, sarcastic smile.
“Pretty sure… this ruins the mission.”
Eddie let out something halfway between a laugh and a broken sound. “Yeah,” he choked out. “Yeah, sweetheart, kinda.”
Your eyes flicked toward the blood covering his hands, then back to him. He looked terrified, like absolutely terrified.
And it hit you suddenly that Eddie Munson looked like he was watching the worst thing that had ever happened to him unfold in real time.
“You can stop looking at me like I’m dying,” you muttered weakly.
The second the words left your mouth, Eddie’s face crumpled completely. “No,” he whispered instantly. Your chest ached at the sound.
Eddie pressed both shaking hands harder against the wound in your side, trying desperately to slow the bleeding.
“You can hate me later,” he said shakily. “Just don’t leave me first.”
Something in your expression broke, because he sounded serious. His eyes glistened under the dim flickering light, curls stuck damply against his forehead, while blood soaked through his rings and sleeves.
And suddenly, all you could think about was Dustin’s voice earlier.
"He always thought you were too good for him."
Your vision blurred slightly. “Eddie…”
“Don’t,” he interrupted immediately, voice cracking. “Please don’t do the thing where people start talking all soft because they think they’re dying, okay? I can’t—”
His breath hitched sharply. Then…Oh. Oh God. Eddie was crying.
Not loud or dramatic, just silent tears slipping down his face while he tried desperately to keep pressure against your side.
You weakly grabbed at his wrist. Instantly, his other hand wrapped around yours.
“I’m here,” he whispered quickly. “I’m here.”
Upstairs, cabinets slammed open while Robin shouted something about peroxide. Dustin was still trying the walkies. But for a second, the rest of the world faded out entirely. It was just Eddie, holding your hand like letting go would kill you.
Your thumb brushed weakly across his knuckles.
“I don’t hate you,” you admitted quietly.
Eddie froze. His watery eyes snapped up to yours so fast it almost hurt to look at. “What?”
You swallowed painfully. “I tried to,” you whispered. “But I don’t.”
Eddie stared at you like the words physically knocked the air from his lungs. Then suddenly, the house went strangely quiet.
Dustin slowly lowered the walkie. “…Wait.”
Steve reappeared at the top of the stairs with Robin right behind him, carrying supplies.
“What?” Robin asked.
Dustin frowned toward the windows. “Do you guys hear that?”
Everyone went still, and there was nothing. No screeching. No snarling. No pounding footsteps outside. The Demodogs were gone.
Steve moved cautiously toward the window, peeling back the curtain slightly. “…Holy shit.”
“What?” Eddie snapped immediately without taking his eyes off you.
Steve looked back slowly. “They stopped.”
Robin blinked. “Stopped what?”
“Following us.”
Everyone went quiet, then Dustin’s eyes widened. “Oh shit.”
Robin looked at him. “‘Oh shit’, what?”
Dustin pointed toward you carefully. “The blood.”
Eddie frowned slightly, and then realization hit all at once. The creatures weren’t tracking El’s scent anymore, not Max’s either. Your blood threw them back to tracking the real deal.
“Oh, that is dark,” Robin muttered quietly.
Steve looked back out the window one more time before letting the curtain fall shut again. “Doesn’t matter. We still gotta move.”
Eddie’s head snapped up immediately. “She can’t move.”
As if on cue, another painful cough tore through your chest. Blood stained the corner of your mouth again, and Eddie visibly flinched.
Robin quickly knelt beside the couch with the medical supplies, hands moving fast as she peeled back the blood-soaked fabric around your side.
“…Oh.”
Steve’s face tightened instantly. “Bad?”
Robin looked a little pale now, too. “Very.”
You glanced downward weakly. Honestly, you kinda wished you hadn’t.
The slash across your side was deep, way deeper than you originally thought. Blackened blood smeared across torn skin while the edges of the wound pulsed faintly with Upside Down spores and grime.
Robin pressed fresh gauze against it carefully, and you hissed sharply through your teeth.
“Sorry,” she muttered quickly.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not,” Eddie said immediately, everyone turning to look at him.
He was still kneeling in front of you, one hand locked tightly around yours like he physically couldn’t let go. And somehow he still looked angry at himself, like this was his fault too.
Steve crouched beside Dustin near the walkie.
“We need everyone back here. Now.”
Dustin nodded immediately, adjusting the frequency with shaky hands. “Nancy, Jonathan, Mike— anybody copy?”
Static crackled loudly, then Jonathan’s voice finally pushed through.
“Dustin?”
“Get back to Wheeler’s house now,” Steve ordered quickly. “We have a situation.”
“What happened?”
Steve hesitated briefly, but Eddie didn’t. “She’s hurt.”
Jonathan swore immediately. “How bad?”
Nobody answered fast enough, and that was answer enough. Dustin swallowed hard before grabbing the walkie again. “Guys, seriously, we need everyone here now.”
Robin kept trying to wrap the wound tighter, but every fresh layer of bandages turned red almost instantly. Steve’s expression shifted subtly from worried to straight-up scared.
“Hey,” he said carefully, crouching closer to you now. “Stay with us, okay?”
You let out a weak laugh. “Everybody keeps saying that.”
“Because you look like shit,” Robin replied automatically.
“Robin,” Steve hissed.
“What? I’m motivating her.”
Your eyelids suddenly felt heavy, and your head tipped slightly against the couch cushions.
Instantly, Eddie tightened his grip on your hand. “Hey.”
“I’m awake.”
“No sleeping.”
“I’m literally just resting my eyes.”
“Absolutely not.”
You would’ve laughed if breathing didn’t hurt so badly. Robin exchanged a quick glance with Steve. Then, he stood abruptly.
“We’re getting out of here.”
Eddie looked up sharply. “What?”
“She needs a hospital.”
“In the real world,” Robin added quickly. “Like yesterday.”
Steve nodded toward the ceiling. “Nearest gate’s at the trailer park. We move fast, we can make it.”
“And if the Demogorgons come back?” Dustin asked nervously.
Steve tightened his grip around the nail bat. “Then we fight.”
Eddie looked back down at you again. You looked exhausted now; blood loss had drained almost all the color from your face.
“Okay,” he whispered shakily. “Okay, we’re moving.”
Then softer, mostly to himself as he brushed blood-matted hair carefully from your face, “You’re not dying here.”
The trip back to the trailer park was brutal; every movement hurt. Every step Eddie took with you in his arms jolted painfully through your side, forcing weak gasps from your throat, no matter how hard you tried to hide them.
“You still with me?” he asked quietly after a while.
You hummed weakly against his shoulder.
“Words, sweetheart.”
“…Unfortunately.”
That earned the tiniest huff of laughter from him. Good. You liked hearing him laugh, even now.
Especially now.
The trailer park gates finally came into view ahead through the fog, and relief instantly loosened the group.
“We’re close,” Steve called quietly. “Gate’s right up—”
A screech exploded overhead, and everyone froze. Eddie’s entire body locked up beneath you instantly. Because he knew that sound, all too well. Demobats.
Robin looked upward first. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”
The sky above them suddenly erupted with movement. Dark shapes poured through the red clouds in violent shrieking swarms. Dozens, maybe more.
“No, no, no,” Dustin whispered.
Eddie visibly went pale; you could feel it immediately. The way his arms tightened around you, the way his breathing changed to sharp, uneven, panicked. Because last time, these things nearly killed him.
“MOVE!” Steve shouted.
The swarm dove all at once, and chaos erupted instantly. Robin started firing upward while Steve swung the bat wildly at the creatures swooping down around them. Dustin hurled another Molotov skyward, flames bursting violently across the dark sky.
Still, more kept coming. One of the bats shrieked directly beside Eddie’s head. He ducked sharply, nearly dropping you. Another latched briefly onto his jacket, and suddenly he wasn’t here anymore, not fully.
Your stomach twisted painfully as you watched it happen in real time. The fear. The memory. His eyes looked exactly like they had that night in the Upside Down trailer. Terrified. Overwhelmed.
A bat swooped downward fast.
“EDDIE!” you shouted weakly. Too late.
The creature slammed directly into him, and the impact knocked both of you sideways violently, causing you to slip from his grasp. Pain exploded through your body as you hit the ground hard, tumbling through ash and dead vines.
Your vision blurred immediately, and everything spun. For one horrible second, you almost blacked out. Then you heard Eddie release an agonizing scream. Your head snapped upward weakly.
The bats swarmed him instantly, exactly like before. Clawing. Shrieking. Dragging him toward the ground while Steve and Robin tried desperately to fight them off. And suddenly, you weren’t in the present Upside Down anymore. You were back there, watching Eddie nearly die.
Watching him bleed out while everyone screamed. Watching his body go limp in your arms. No, absolutely fucking not.
Adrenaline slammed through your body so violently it almost made you nauseous.
You forced yourself upward with a broken gasp, fingers scrambling desperately through the dirt until they found the shotgun lying nearby. Your side screamed in protest, but it didn’t matter. You cocked the gun shakily.
One of the bats wrapped around Eddie’s throat while another clawed at his back. His eyes met yours across the chaos, terrified. And that? That did it.
BOOM
The flare shell exploded directly into the swarm, and fire erupted violently across the sky. Shrieking filled the air as the Demo-bats ignited all at once, peeling away from Eddie in flaming screeches. Another shot, then another.
Explosions of orange fire illuminated the dark woods around you while burning creatures dropped from the sky one after another.
Steve grabbed Eddie immediately, hauling him backward. “MOVE MOVE MOVE!”
Robin ran toward you instantly. “Jesus Christ!”
Your arms finally gave out. The shotgun slipped from your fingers as the adrenaline vanished just as quickly as it came. Everything tilted sideways, and Eddie reached you before you hit the ground again.
His hands grabbed your face carefully. “Hey,” he breathed frantically. “Hey, hey, hey, look at me.”
Your vision blurred around the edges, but you still managed the weakest smile.
“Told you,” you whispered faintly. “Not letting you die.” Eddie looked absolutely wrecked by that sentence.
The first thing you noticed was the beeping, soft and steady. Then the smell of antiseptic hit next, clean hospital air replacing the rot and ash of the Upside Down.
Your body felt heavy and warm, and pain throbbed dully through your side the second you tried to move.
A small sound escaped your throat before you could stop it. Immediately, a chair scraped harshly beside you.
“Hey.”
Your eyes blinked open slowly. Hospital room. Dim lighting. And Eddie, kneeling beside your bed so fast it almost looked like he hadn’t moved in hours. Because honestly? He probably hadn’t.
His curls were a mess, dark circles bruised beneath his eyes, while dried scratches still marked his neck and jaw from the bats. One of his hands clutched yours tightly enough to hurt a little.
“Oh, thank God,” he breathed shakily.
Your throat felt raw. “You look terrible.”
A watery laugh escaped him instantly. “Thanks.”
You smiled weakly. Eddie immediately leaned forward in the chair, still gripping your hand like he thought you might disappear if he let go.
“You scared the absolute shit out of me,” he admitted quietly.
“How long was I out?”
“Day and a half.”
Your eyebrows lifted weakly. “Seriously?”
“Mhm.”
“Wow. Kinda dramatic of me.”
Eddie let out another broken laugh, but this one dissolved quickly. You glanced down at your intertwined hands, noticing how he still hadn’t let go.
“…You stayed?”
Eddie looked almost offended. “Obviously, I stayed.”
Something warm twisted painfully in your chest. You swallowed carefully. “The others okay?”
“Yeah.” He nodded quickly. “Everyone’s okay. Couple scratches, Henderson won’t stop bragging about his Molotovs, Robin cried for like twenty minutes after you passed out—”
“Robin cried?”
“She threatened Steve when he laughed about it, too.”
That earned a small laugh out of you. God, he’d missed that sound.
Eddie stared at you for a second too long afterward, like he was making sure you were real, and alive.
His expression slowly crumbled again. “Listen,” he started quietly.
You already knew from his tone that this was gonna hurt. Eddie rubbed shakily at his eyes with his free hand before looking back at you.
“I am so sorry.”
Your chest tightened immediately.
“I should’ve told you about Chrissy,” he continued, voice uneven now. “I should’ve explained, and I should’ve come after you that night instead of letting you walk away.”
Tears burned visibly in his eyes again. “But honestly?” He laughed weakly at himself. “I think I was just waiting for you to realize you were too good for me.”
Your face softened instantly. “Eddie—”
“No, let me say it.” His voice cracked slightly. “Because I need you to know.”
His thumb brushed carefully across your knuckles.
“You are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life,” he whispered shakily. “Like… stupid beautiful. And smart, and funny, and everybody loves you, and I just kept thinking eventually you’d wake up and realize you didn’t wanna be stuck with some freak in a trailer forever.”
Your eyes immediately stung.
“And then when you saw me with Chrissy…” He swallowed hard. “I don’t know. Part of me almost figured maybe this was it. Like maybe I finally ruined the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Silence filled the room softly. Then finally, “You idiot.”
Eddie blinked, and you squeezed his hand weakly. “I never cared about any of that.”
His face crumpled all over again. “I know that now,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry too.”
Eddie frowned immediately. “For what?”
“I should’ve listened.”
“No, sweetheart—”
“I was hurt,” you admitted softly. “But I think part of me already knew you didn’t cheat.”
Eddie’s eyes went glossy again instantly.
You sighed weakly. “You’re too obsessed with me to cheat on me.”
That startled a laugh out of him so suddenly he actually snorted.
“Well, yeah,” he whispered again.
You smiled faintly. Then after a small pause, “So…” you murmured. “What now?”
Eddie looked at you carefully, like he was scared to answer wrong.
Then slowly, he brought your hand carefully to his lips and pressed the softest kiss against your knuckles.
“Whatever you want,” he whispered.
Your heart melted a little. “…I think,” you admitted quietly, “I’d like my boyfriend back.”
Eddie actually stopped breathing. “You mean that?”
You nodded once, and that was all it took.
Eddie surged forward carefully, terrified of hurting you, one hand cradling your face while he kissed you like he’d been dying to do it for months.
Soft at first, shaky. Then emotional enough that you felt tears hit your cheeks before realizing they were his. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
“I love you,” he whispered immediately. “Like, embarrassingly bad.”
You laughed softly. “I love you too, you idiot.”
Neither of you noticed the door cracking open. At least, not until:
“Oh, thank fucking God.”
You both startled apart immediately. Robin stood frozen in the doorway holding two vending machine coffees and an open bag of chips, staring at the two of you with pure exhausted relief on her face.
Behind her, Steve physically sagged against the doorframe.
“FINALLY,” he groaned dramatically. “Jesus Christ.”
Your face burned hot instantly while Eddie still hovered halfway over you, one hand on your waist. Robin pointed between the two of you accusingly. “Do you understand how insufferable you both have been?”
“Robin—” Eddie started.
“No. No, I’m serious.” She walked fully into the room now, setting the coffees down aggressively on the bedside table. “The sexual tension alone almost killed me before the interdimensional monsters even got the chance.”
Eddie groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “Can we have like… one emotional moment? Alone?”
“No,” Steve answered immediately.
Robin nodded. “Absolutely not.”
Then her expression softened slightly as she looked toward you lying in the hospital bed. “You scared the hell out of us, by the way.”
Your smile faded a little. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Steve said quickly, pushing off the doorway. “Just stop getting mauled by alternate dimension creatures. It’s becoming a weird habit in this group.”
“You first,” you shot back weakly.
Robin’s eyes flicked back and forth between you and Eddie again before narrowing suspiciously.
“So…” she dragged out slowly. “Are we all emotionally repaired now or what?”
Eddie looked toward you, and you smiled faintly before intertwining your fingers with his again.
Robin gasped dramatically. “OH, my GOD.”
Steve pointed immediately. “I knew it.”
Eddie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling now, actually...no. More like beaming at the fact that your fingers were laced with his.
Warnings: Angst, angry seduction, emotional infidelity, arranged/forced marriage tension
Words: 300 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles
Prompt: June 16th - “Every smile you fake.”
The feast still roared behind the closed doors.
Music. Laughter. Goblets striking tables. Your husband’s voice rising above it all, loud and pleased and entirely unaware his wife had slipped into the shadowed hall.
You needed air.
You needed silence.
You needed one moment where your face did not belong to anyone else.
“Running already?” Loki’s voice came from the dark like a blade drawn slowly from silk.
“Loki-” You closed your eyes. “You can’t be here...”
He ignored you stepping out from between the pillars, that quiet rag coming off him you swore you could taste it.
“I wondered how long you would last.” He almost snarled the words
“You don’t get to judge me.” It was you that snarled this time
“No?” His smile was sharp enough to hurt. “Then who does? Him?”
Your fingers tightened around the cup.
Loki crossed the space with that terrible, beautiful grace of his. “He laughs while you flinch from his hand. He calls you beloved yet fails to notice your distance. I watch every smile you fake.”
“Stop.” Your voice cracking.
“How long are you going to punish us both by keeping up this farce?”
“You think this was my choice?” You spat back.
“I think you let them make it for you.”
The slap cracked before you knew you had moved.
Loki’s head turned his face back, eyes burning, his smile sharp.
“There you are,” he murmured.
Your anger shook. So did your stinging hand.
He caught your wrist before you could step away, not hard enough to hurt, only enough to remind you he had always known how to hold you.
“You should have been mine,” the venom in his voice pierced you.
You hated him for saying it.
You hated yourself more for wanting him to it true.
cw ⸝⸝ 18+ only ⸝⸝ DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT ⸝⸝ mild dubcon (like it borders on non-con) ⸝⸝ stalking ⸝⸝ knife play ⸝⸝ unprotected piv ⸝⸝ possessiveness ⸝⸝ noncon drug use ⸝⸝ restraints ⸝⸝ exes ⸝⸝ abduction ⸝⸝ minor injury ⸝⸝ drug use ⸝⸝ creampie ⸝⸝ toxic relationship ⸝⸝ breaking and entering ⸝⸝ choking ⸝⸝ degradation ⸝⸝ humiliation ⸝⸝ emotional manipulation ⸝⸝ obsessive behavior ⸝⸝ brief blood play ⸝⸝ r has she/her pronouns ⸝⸝ no use of y/n ⸝⸝ brief mention of baby trapping ⸝⸝ 4.4k
synopsis: you thought you’d finally moved on. but eddie munson has never been the type to let go of what he wants — and he’s spent the last few months making sure you never really left his sight.
note: i had originally written this fic like six years ago but decided to try my hand at rewriting it. it's way darker and definitely took on a life of its own. i tried to tag accordingly, so, if i missed anything let me know! if you're sensitive to any of the tags, please do not read ahead. take care of yourself first and foremost. <3
m.list
“hello, sweetheart.”
the silky smooth voice causes you to stop dead in your tracks upon entering your apartment, your blood running cold at the familiar cadence. no, it can’t be? you think to yourself, swallowing the lump in your throat as you step further into the house. you turn the corner from the foyer and enter the living room, your eyes widening. there he was, in all his glory, sitting on your maroon sectional, lit cigarette in hand with his feet propped up on the black coffee table.
it had been months since you had last heard from him or seen him outside of your apartment, watching you at all hours of the night. you figured he had given up on you, had taken the hint that you wanted nothing to do with him, but you were wrong. that became painstakingly obvious when a bouquet of your favorite flowers got delivered to your doorstep with a card that read, “miss me? - e.”
“eddie? w-what the hell are you doing here?”
your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to, shaky and thin. your heart is hammering so hard it feels like it might crack your ribs. seeing him here, in your space, after all these months of radio silence, feels like the floor has dropped out from under you. you’d convinced yourself he was gone for good. you’d almost believed it.
“well, i came to see you, of course,” he says simply, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. he blows a slow stream of smoke from his lungs, those warm brown eyes never leaving you for a second. “love what you’ve done with the place.”
he gestures lazily with the cigarette toward the picture frame sitting neatly on the accent table — the one of you and your boyfriend at the beach last summer. his voice drips with sarcasm, but underneath it there’s something venomous that makes your stomach twist. “i never took you as the domestic type.”
your eyes flick to the frame against your will. your boyfriend's smiling face stares back at you, oblivious and happy, and the sight of it suddenly makes you feel sick with guilt. you force your gaze back to eddie, trying to keep your expression steady even as your pulse races. “there’s a lot you didn’t know about me.”
eddie stands up from the sectional in one fluid motion, taking a few slow steps toward you with the cigarette still burning between his fingers. the distance between you shrinks, and with it, the air in the room feels thinner. “maybe so,” he muses, taking a long drag before letting the smoke curl out between his lips. his eyes are darker now, more intense. “or maybe you’re just lying to yourself.”
he stops a few feet away, close enough that you can smell the familiar mix of smoke and his cologne. close enough that you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his eyes. the way he’s looking at you makes you feel stripped bare, like he can see every secret you’ve tried to bury deep inside yourself.
“i’ve learned a lot about you this past year,” he continues, voice low and almost conversational, but every word lands heavily. “i know deep down you don’t give a fuck about him. because if you did?”
he tilts his head slightly, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“you wouldn’t be moaning my name while you fuck yourself on those pretty little fingers.”
your stomach drops so fast it makes you dizzy. heat floods your face — shame, humiliation, and something far more dangerous curling low in your belly that you refuse to name. he knows. he’s seen. the realization crashes over you in waves. every time you’d touched yourself thinking about him, every time you’d bitten your lip to keep from crying out his name while your boyfriend slept beside you, every filthy, guilty fantasy you’d tried to bury… eddie had watched it all.
your throat tightens. you feel exposed in a way that makes your skin crawl and your pulse throb between your legs at the same time. you hate it. you hate how easily he can still pull that reaction from you. your hands are trembling at your sides and you quickly clench them into fists, trying to hide it, trying to hold onto some shred of dignity even as your eyes burn.
eddie chuckles humorlessly as the realization dawns across your face, stepping even closer, the scent of smoke and his cologne wrapping around you like a noose. “i’m always keeping an eye on you,” he says, voice low and smooth. “what kind of man would i be if i didn’t?”
your heart slams against your ribs so hard it hurts. the walls feel like they’re closing in. you stumble backwards toward the entryway on shaky legs, your breaths coming in shallow, panicked gasps. every instinct screams at you to run, to get as far away from him as possible before it’s too late. you spin on your heel, adrenaline flooding your system as you make a desperate break for the front door.
eddie moves fast.
he lurches forward and catches you before you can even reach the handle, his fingers clamping around your upper arm with an iron grip that makes you cry out. the metal of his rings bites into your skin as he yanks you back against his chest, hard enough that your back collides with him. “where do you think you’re going, baby?” he mocks, the words warm against the shell of your ear. there’s amusement in his voice, but underneath it is something dark and possessive.
“eddie! let me go!” you scream, voice cracking as tears spill hot and fast down your cheeks. you thrash wildly in his hold, twisting and pulling with everything you have, your free hand clawing at his wrist. “please! if you love me, let me go!”
he doesn’t even flinch. instead, his grip tightens, fingers digging in until you’re sure they’ll leave bruises. “oh no,” he murmurs, almost gently. “i made the mistake of letting you go once. i’m not doing it again.”
your pulse is roaring in your ears. you can feel the heat of his body behind you, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back as you struggle. panic claws up your throat. you try to stomp on his foot, try to elbow him in the ribs, but he’s stronger than you remember — or maybe you’re just weaker from the sheer terror coursing through you. he shifts his hold easily, one arm banding across your chest to pin your arms while his other hand reaches into his pocket.
you catch the flash of white fabric a second too late.
“no— eddie, please—!” your voice cracks into a sob as he brings the cloth up and presses it firmly over your nose and mouth. the sharp, sweet chemical smell hits you instantly. you thrash harder, kicking and twisting in his grip, but he holds you steady against him like nothing. your fingers scrabble uselessly at his forearm. your lungs burn as you try not to breathe it in, but your body betrays you — you have to inhale.
the world starts to tilt.
your limbs grow heavy, sluggish. the edges of your vision blur and darken at the corners. you can still feel eddie’s arm locked around you, his breath calm and even against your hair while yours comes in frantic, muffled gasps against the cloth. tears keep falling, soaking into the fabric as your struggles grow weaker, more uncoordinated. a broken whimper escapes you.
eddie’s voice is the last thing you hear, low and almost tender against your ear.
“that’s it, sweetheart… just let go. i’ve got you.”
your knees buckle. the last thing you register is the feeling of him catching your weight easily as everything slips away into blackness.
the room is pitch black save for the pale moonlight filtering in through the open window. eddie sits at the small table next to the kitchen, the faint scrape of a credit card against glass the only sound as he cuts a few lines. he leans down, snorts them in quick succession, then sits back hard against the chair with a low, guttural groan. the familiar burn floods his system, sharp and electric, chasing away the restless edge that’s been crawling under his skin for months. for the first time in a long while, the noise in his head quiets. he tilts his face toward the ceiling, eyes half-lidded, grateful to finally feel something close to peace.
you awaken not long after.
it’s slow at first — a thick fog clinging to your mind. your head feels too heavy for your neck. your tongue is dry and cottony against the roof of your mouth. there’s a dull, persistent pounding behind your eyes and a strange chemical taste lingering at the back of your throat. for a few disoriented seconds you don’t know where you are or why your body feels so sluggish. blinking feels like too much effort. the room spins when you try to move your head.
then the memories slam back into you all at once.
the apartment. eddie waiting in the dark. the iron grip on your arm. the cloth pressed over your face. the way everything had gone soft and distant as you fought to stay conscious.
your stomach lurches with fresh panic.
you force your eyes open wider, vision still blurry at the edges, and glance around. moonlight spills across the room in silver streaks, catching on dark furniture and the edge of a familiar bed. eddie’s bedroom. the realization settles over you like ice water. you’re in his bed. in his apartment. and you have no idea how long you’ve been here.
a soft creak of floorboards pulls your attention toward the doorway.
eddie walks in, his silhouette cutting through the moonlight. the second his eyes land on you, his lips pull into a wide, almost boyish smile — like he’s genuinely happy to see you. “hey, you’re finally awake.”
you turn your head toward the sound of his voice, sucking in a sharp breath as your eyes adjust enough to see him clearly. he’s dressed in nothing but a pair of gray boxers. his wild curly brown hair is slightly disheveled, a few strands falling across his forehead. the sight of him — so casually at home while you’re trapped here — makes your chest tighten with a confusing rush of fear and...
“sorry about the restraints,” he says, almost casually, gesturing toward your wrists and ankles.
you hadn’t even noticed them yet, still too groggy and disoriented to register the pressure around your limbs. but now that he’s pointed them out, you feel them — the bite of rope against your skin, the way it holds your arms slightly above your head and keeps your legs spread just enough to make you feel exposed. a cold wave of dread rolls through you. you test the bonds instinctively and the ropes creak but don’t give. the helplessness hits you all at once, heavy and suffocating.
“a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” you manage, voice hoarse and shaky.
eddie’s smile softens into fondness as he watches you slowly come back to yourself. “i had to make sure you weren’t going to run off when you woke up,” he says simply, like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world.
he climbs onto the bed without hesitation, the mattress dipping under his weight as he moves toward you. he towers over you, his body blocking some of the moonlight.
your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it.
one finger traces slowly along your cheek, the rough pad of it dragging lightly over your still-clammy skin. you can smell the faint trace of smoke still clinging to him, mixed with his cologne.
“i missed seeing you like this,” he whispers, voice low and rough. “tied up and at my mercy.”
his finger continues its path downward, gliding from your cheek to the delicate column of your throat. he wraps his hand around it with careful, deliberate pressure — not enough to cut off your air yet, but enough to make your pulse flutter wildly against his palm. “screaming my name while i fuck that perfect, tight little pussy of yours.”
you writhe beneath him on instinct, the ropes biting into your wrists as you twist. you want to disappear into the mattress, to vanish completely. the heat of his body so close to yours, the weight of him hovering just above you, makes it hard to breathe. “what makes you think i’d let you fuck me?” you snap, voice shaking despite the anger you try to force into it. “you’re fucking psycho, eddie!”
he chuckles, the sound low and humorless, and tightens his grip on your throat just enough to make your next breath come thinner. “oh, you will.”
with his free hand he reaches over to the nightstand. the soft scrape of metal against wood makes your stomach drop. he picks up the knife and brings it into view, flashing the blade in front of your face with a lazy flick of his wrist. his eyebrows lift in a mocking little gesture before he catches the handle between his teeth. the sound of fabric tearing fills the room as he rips your dress straight down the middle in one rough motion, the cool air hitting your exposed skin instantly. he discards the ruined material somewhere off the bed, leaving you in nothing but your black lace panties.
eddie takes the knife from between his teeth and drags the flat of the blade slowly along your stomach, the cool metal kissing your skin. he watches every flinch, every sharp intake of breath, clearly reveling in the way you squirm underneath him. your soft, panicked pleas and whimpers seem to go straight to his cock — you can see it in the way his eyes darken and his breathing grows heavier. “shh,” he coos gently, pressing a finger to your lips. “it’s okay, baby. i would never hurt you.”
you push your head further back into the mattress, trying to escape his touch, but there’s nowhere to go. the ropes hold you open and helpless. shame burns hot in your chest as your body betrays you anyway — your nipple tightens under the light brush of his finger, a fresh wave of unwanted heat pooling low in your stomach. eddie smirks at the way you flinch and then arch despite yourself. he removes his finger only to trace slow circles over the hardened peak, watching your face the entire time.
a broken moan slips out of you before you can stop it. tears spill down your temples and into your hair as you squeeze your eyes shut, desperate to block him out and failing. the pleasure feels so…g-.
“hm… so receptive to me even after all this time,” eddie breathes, voice low and rough with satisfaction. he rolls your nipple between his fingers, pinching just hard enough to make you gasp. then he dips down and drags his tongue over it in one slow, wet stroke, keeping his eyes locked on your face. you moan louder this time, the sound raw and involuntary. you bite down hard on your lower lip to try and trap the next one, but it’s useless, thighs trembling against the ropes.
eddie trails the knife lower, the cold flat of the blade gliding over your stomach and down to your mound. the metallic chill makes your muscles jump. with one clean motion he slices through the delicate lace of your panties, the fabric parting easily under the sharp edge. he tosses the ruined material aside without looking, then groans hotly at the sight of you — glistening and exposed under the pale moonlight.
“fuck…” he whispers, almost reverent. “so pretty…”
he slowly drags the blade through your folds, coating the steel in your wetness. you can feel every inch of it — the cool metal parting you, the sharp edge hovering far too close. eddie licks his lips as he watches the way your body reacts. “tell me. how much did you miss me?”
the question hits you like a slap. your chest heaves with every shaky breath. you hate how fast the answer comes.
“so much,” you whine, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. your voice is small, wrecked. you peer up at him through heavy, wet lashes, shame flooding you the second the confession leaves your mouth. “i missed you so much.”
eddie grins wickedly. he gathers some of your slick on the tip of the blade and brings it up to your lips. “prove it.”
your breathing stutters. you keep your eyes on him as you lean up as far as the ropes allow and drag your tongue along the underside of the blade, all the way to the tip. the taste of yourself coats your tongue and a soft, humiliated moan escapes you as you lick it clean, lashes fluttering.
“that’s it,” eddie groans, palming his cock as he gazes down at you. “you always were such a good girl.”
eddie brings the knife back to your cunt, rubbing tight circles against your clit. the cool metal makes you hiss, instinctively swiveling your hips for more friction.
“you love this, don’t you?” he rasps, his tone low and seductive. “you’re fucking soaked.”
you glare up at him, yanking hard on the restraints in pure frustration. the ropes dig painfully into your wrists, but you barely feel it. you hate how easily you turn to putty in his hands, no matter what he’s done, no matter that he drugged you and tied you to his bed like a fucking lunatic. the worst part is knowing it’s always been like this. you’ve always wanted eddie munson more than anything — even now, when you should be terrified, when you should be screaming for help instead of feeling your clit throb with every touch.
“please,” you beg, voice cracking as you look up at him with glassy, desperate eyes.
eddie tilts his head, that cruel little smirk playing on his lips. “please, what? hm?”
he drags two fingers through your slick folds, teasing your entrance with feather-light pressure before pushing in to the first knuckle. the stretch is barely anything, but it’s enough to make your walls flutter greedily around him…then he pulls out completely, leaving you empty and aching.
your mind is a fucking mess. you don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore. for him to untie you? for him to stop? or for him to finally give you what your traitorous body is screaming for? you settle on both...
you squeeze your eyes shut, lips parting on a shaky breath as another broken moan slips free. “let me go,” you whisper, even as your hips twitch upward on their own, chasing his hand.
the second his fingers sink back inside you — deeper this time — your back arches off the bed. eddie curls his fingers immediately, dragging them against that sweet spot inside you with practiced ease.
“you already know the answer to that one, baby,” he says, voice low and laced with malice. “now, tell me exactly what i want to hear.”
“no,” you force out, meeting his eyes with whatever defiance you have left. but the word is hollow. your body is already betraying you completely — hips rolling, thighs trembling, cunt clenching tightly around his fingers. you toss your head back against the pillow, a filthy, desperate moan tearing from your throat as he strokes that spot again. “fuck!”
he smirks, scissoring his fingers inside of you before pulling them out to rub harsh circles on your clit. you moan loudly, the sound vibrating around the room along with the wet, squelching sounds of your cunt. the anticipation of being buried inside of you becomes too overwhelming and eddie can’t take it any longer. he pulls his boxers down in a swift move, pumping his cock in his hand.
your gaze falls on his cock, heavy and hard in his hand. your mouth waters at the sight: tip flushed red, a bead of precum dangling from the slit, prominent veins exposed all along his perfect shaft. your cunt clenches, causing arousal to drip down your thighs to the sheets beneath you.
“tell me you want me,” eddie says, voice low and rough as he rubs the thick head of his cock over your swollen clit. “and i’ll give it all to you.”
you whimper helplessly. your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips as he continues to tease you, dragging his cock through your slick folds again and again. every brush against your clit sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you, and you hate how badly your body craves more.
eddie chuckles darkly at your reaction. “if you say so.”
he lines himself up with your entrance, the pressure making your breath catch. for a moment he just teases you there — rocking his hips so the head of his cock nudges against you without pushing in. then he finally sinks into you with one slow thrust, a hot, guttural groan ripping from his throat as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.
“goddamnit,” he breathes against your skin, the word shaking with restraint.
you grip the ropes above your head so tightly your knuckles turn white, a long, broken moan spilling from your lips as he fills you. your cunt pulses and flutters around his thick cock, the stretch burning in the best way. he doesn’t give you time to adjust. he pushes himself up on his hands and starts thrusting into you hard and sharp, the force of it jolting your body against the mattress.
“he doesn’t know how to make you feel good like i do,” eddie growls, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. “i’ve seen the way he fucks you.”
his words hit deep in your gut. but you spread your legs wider for him anyway, the movement instinctive and humiliating. “i bet it killed you,” you breathe, voice trembling. “watching another man fuck me. knowing it should have been you.”
eddie’s eyes flash darkly. he brings the knife back to your throat, pressing the cool, flat edge against your skin as he drives into you harder, deeper. the threat of the blade makes every nerve in your body light up with fear and want.
“perhaps,” he muses, voice tight with arousal. “but i know it killed you. remember, baby… i watched you touch yourself after he'd leave.”
he nicks your skin, groaning hotly as you whine in pain beneath him. he leans down and licks the blood pooling at the surface of the wound, lashes fluttering at the metallic taste. “mm…”
you wince as the cut begins to sting. you flick your eyes up at him with a doe-like expression. “perhaps.”
eddie’s lashes flutter as your tight walls clench around him, his wild curls falling forward and brushing against your face. his head hangs low between his shoulders as he groans, “god, i missed your pussy so much. it was fucking made for me.”
you yank hard on the ropes, the coarse fibers biting into your wrists. you’re desperate to touch him…to drag your nails down the smooth plane of his back, to fist your hands in his hair and pull the way you know drives him crazy.
“let me go,” you moan, tugging uselessly at the restraints again. “wanna touch you.”
“you know i can’t do that,” he breathes, voice strained with pleasure. he sets the knife aside and replaces it with his hand, wrapping his fingers around your throat and squeezing just tight enough to cut off your airflow. your eyes roll back instantly, a choked gasp catching in your chest as the pressure builds. the edges of your vision start to blur while your cunt clenches even tighter around him.
“eddie—!” you rasp, his name barely making it out.
he grins wickedly and releases his grip, letting you suck in a desperate, ragged breath. “such a good little whore,” he groans, hips still moving in deep, brutal strokes. “aren’t you?
you’re so far gone, so lost in the overwhelming mix of fear, shame, and pleasure, that the word slips out before you can stop it.
“yes…”
eddie’s eyes darken with satisfaction. he pulls out without warning, pushing your legs back to your chest and you're completely pinned beneath him. he thrusts back into you in one sharp motion, the new angle so deep it punches the air from your lungs. “gonna cum so deep inside you ,” he grunts, smirking down at you with wild possession in his eyes. "gonna..fuck a b-.”
you cry out at the sudden, brutal depth, your body stretched and helpless in the new position. his words barely registering through the haze of sensation, but they send a fresh, shameful pulse of heat through you anyway. your cunt pulses around him as your orgasm builds fast and merciless, every thrust driving you closer to the edge.
“please, eds… i need to cum!” you beg, voice wrecked and shaking. "wanna cum.."
he leans down, his hand wrapping around your throat again as he keeps fucking you deep and hard. “who do you belong to?” he breathes, voice rough against your lips. “tell me and i’ll let you cum.”
“you!” you scream, the word tearing out of you hoarse and broken as your face twists in overwhelming pleasure. the tip of his cock slams into your sweet spot over and over.. “you— fuck— you!”
“that’s right, baby,” eddie moans. his grip on your throat tightens for one more second before he releases it, letting you gasp in a desperate, shuddering breath. at the same time, he buries himself as deep as he can and cums with a guttural groan, pulsing hot and thick inside you. you feel every spurt of his cum flooding your cunt, the heat of it pushing you over the edge.
your orgasm crashes through you violently. your back arches hard against the mattress, legs trembling as your walls spasm around his cock. the pleasure is overwhelming, made sharper by the lack of air and the way he’s still grinding into you through it. tears spill from your eyes as your body shakes uncontrollably beneath him.
eddie stays buried inside you, breathing hard, his forehead pressed against yours as the last waves of his release pulse into you. his hand stays loosely around your throat, thumb stroking gently over your racing pulse like he’s soothing you.
“you’re mine,” he whispers against your lips. “always.”
➳ CW: Filthyyy, they are married (and obsessed/hungry for one another), they partake in (very much consensual (confirmed in the fic)) primal play in a forest, i.e. Reader is being 'chased' by Loki and is then caught by him before they eventually have sex, unprotected sex (I always forget to add this warning pls forgive me) (DO NOT DO THIS), dirty talk, Loki is cocky/smug as all hell, Loki loves theatrics, Reader is super horny for him and just wants to get to it, no mention of y/n, UNBETAED (I will look over this eventually guys), handjob, oral (f!receiving), Reader fantasizes about oral (Loki!receiving), cum eating (Loki), aftercare (forgive me if it isn't entirely well done </3), doggy style, a lot of comparisons to wild animals (Loki is a freak here always), potentially dark-ish Loki warning? (but it's entirely an act), Loki is a giver!!
➳ A/N: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!! All of you who have followed and who have read my fics at any point in time are my valentines today <3 I love you all so much and am so thankful for your support. Thank you for 300+ followers <3
ps: you cannot convince me this is not something they wouldn't get up to lol they are absolute freaks (and I would let Loki do this to me EASY) (Loki where are you)
➳ (3.3k words)
➳ link to event masterlist!
(he's so devious look at him) (gif by @beatlebirdfly !!)
You couldn't breathe. You'd just ran through the forest as fast as you could manage, past what felt like hundred trees, until you'd found a tree likely as old as it was massive. You quickly hid behind it, front pressed against the trunk so you could subtly look around it to see if he was on your trail.
You snuck a look and quickly hid back behind it, trying to catch your breath all whilst keeping as quiet as possible. Your heart was beating faster than it ever had, probably due to this being the most intense thing you'd ever been put through. More terrifyingly exciting than you could've ever imagined it.
A twig snapped somewhere from where you'd come and you bit down on your lip hard, desperately holding back the sound of surprise trying to come out of you.
"I know you are here, my love..." The sound of his voice made your breath stutter. He sounded so calm and so composed, not at all winded or worried. Holding back your small smile was the hardest thing.
You considered running, considered pressing yourself further against the tree, hoping the dark colored gown you'd chosen would hide you long enough to get to run in the opposite direction the moment he'd pass by the tree. But he was fast.
He was close enough now that you could just barely hear his footsteps, his boots against the ground. You gulped, and right as you decided that you were about to turn and bolt as far and fast as you could, you felt hands on the backs of your shoulders. You screamed in terror and the chuckle that came from behind you was both comforting and frightening.
"I thought you had learned not to trust what you see or hear when with me, love."
As if you'd just ran again, your breathing was fast. He squeezed your right shoulder once, a subtle question to make sure you were well. You nodded lightly. He proceeded.
"Did you really think it would be fair? Going against me? Someone so beautiful, so cherished, running from me and expecting me not to catch her?"
You realized suddenly that the footsteps you'd heard, maybe even the twig snapping, hadn't truly been his doing. Simply an auditory illusion, or one of his doubles in the case you looked over. He could've been watching you this entire time. Somehow.
His body pressed against yours, pressing you further against the rough tree bark. You could smell him so well from here, and you felt yourself salivate slightly. Something cool yet soothing, the smell of leather, and a more persistent smell of his musk from the usual do the running he'd done.
"Tell me, was it scary? Running from me?"
You nodded, turning your head to the side so you could see him. Loki looked the same as his usual, besides his slightly mussed hair and his cheeks being lightly flushed. You tried not to focus on how pretty it made him look. You most definitely were not meant to think that about him now.
He looked back at you, and he looked fierce and severe, but you (and no one else would have noticed) noticed how his eyes seemed to briefly soften when yours found his, as if he, too, was endeared at how you looked after your (much less graceful) running through the forest.
"Why did it have you fearful? Tell me." He demanded, taking one of your hands and placing it by your head, against the tree bark, one of his quickly following it.
"I did not know... where you would come from. Or how fast you would be." You'd finally found your voice, much to the relief of you both.
"Very fast." He whispered into your ear. You shivered pleasantly at the feeling of his breath against your neck.
"I wonder what I shall do now that I have caught my wonderful, priceless prize. Perhaps I shall take her home to admire her. Or..." his other hand moved around your waist, pulling you flush against him. A soft whine came out of you at the feel of him hard against you. You'd already wanted him upon waking. It was practically unbearable at this point, your gusset soaked.
"Or," He continued lowly, biting your earlobe. "I can have my prize here. Since I am incredibly generous, I'll let you voice your opinion."
"Here..." Your reply was immediate and breathless. There'd been some agreement to keep the game going for a while longer after he'd caught you, to have you playfully try and flee one last time, but you couldn't possibly be expected to remember details like that when your handsome husband was moments away from ravishing you against a tree, his hard cock pressing into you.
Also, why in the world would you ever willingly free from his embrace once you were already in it?
Loki chuckled softly against your head, clearly surprised that you'd changed the script like this.
"So eager, my love." He purred, and you knew that this was him, not the role he was playing. He was utterly enamored with you right now.
"Mmm, I want you."
"I can see that." You could feel his grin against your temple. "So desperate for your husband's cock that you cannot even play a game properly with me before I give it to you, hm? What should the Realms think?"
"The Realms have no business knowing."
"Mm, indeed. Moreover, I am sure they know just how happy you are from the way you so love clinging to my arm during celebrations."
It was becoming incredibly taxing to try and pay attention to his words while having him pressed to you like this, tempting you. You did your best to move against him as best as you could, both hoping for some relief and hoping to tempt him into actually taking you like he'd promised.
"Look at you..." He cooed, eyes moving down to watch the way you pressed your backside repeatedly against his cock. "You debauched thing."
"Loki... you promised."
"Yes, I did indeed, but you usually have more patience than this, my love. Has this new setting inspired you so deeply? Made you a feral tigress, perhaps."
You fought against his hands holding you the tree, wanting to turn around and kiss him deep, but he held strong.
"We do this on my terms. As we agreed, my love. Do you remember?" He whispered, voice darkening slightly (for effect and dramatics of course).
You nodded silently, and Loki seemed pleased, almost as if your previous game had begun anew.
"So, my beautiful prey wishes to be at my mercy in this lush forest, hm? She does not wish to delay her fate... what a brave darling."
You shivered, feeling half-mad at this point. Loki had always been one for the theatrics, and you hated him for it right now. His idea for the two of you to be intimate in the wild forests by the palace of Asgard had been devious and utterly salacious (like most things he came up with), and you were currently more aroused than you felt you'd ever been, which is exactly why you wanted desperately to shut him up, as much as you loved him and his dramatics. He would not leave something unfinished, however. You knew this full well and when it extended to your marriage bed, you were usually more than happy to encourage him. But not now.
You huffed, resting your forehead against the bark.
"And now she wishes to misbehave, it seems." He tutted sharply, and you felt a small, secretive smirk pull at your mouth.
"Will you apologize?" And he was smirking, too.
You both fully expected the shake of your head that followed.
"I shall remember this..." He promised, his voice quiet and calm. It made your insides tighten pleasantly.
Unable to help yourself, you were utterly gleeful when you felt one of Loki’s hands begin to pull up your skirts.
“I wonder, are you dripping down these thighs, pet? I wish so desperately to devour you…”
You whined, pressing back against him. You ached to have him inside of you.
“You frenzied darling… do you need my cock?” He was teasing you, and enjoying this far too much.
“Yes…” You replied with no hesitation.
“Touch it, then. Reach for it.” He goaded.
You did not wait a moment longer, sighing as he released your hand, moving it between the two of you and moaning at the sound of him freeing himself for you. You took him in hand, squeezing his hardness and salivating at the thought of it inside of you. At the thought of it in your mouth. Though you knew he would not let you now. He was far too eager, much as he tried to deny it, to have you properly. Perhaps he would let you tonight, if you batted your eyes at him enough. In truth, you knew with certainty that he would gladly let you do anything to him, but he liked to make a game of everything.
“Do you see what you have done to me? What the thrill of running after you, after your luxurious skirts has made of me?” Loki pressed his mouth to your ear, kissing your jaw gently. “What thrill I have experienced at the mere thought of what lies beneath this dress?”
“Loki…”
He shushed you gently, kissing your cheek. He hissed at how you began to stroke him. You could feel how eager he was. He was utterly hard, and his cock twitched when you gave it a particularly slow, playful stroke.
“Tell me, do you wish to be fucked?” He whispered darkly, all while holding you lovingly and making sure he shielded you when a stronger gust of wind blew through the forest.
“Yes, please…”
“Ask for it, pet.” You were certain he wished to sound demanding, but it sounded like a plea to your experienced ears.
“Please… please fuck me.”
He let out a shaky breath at your words and rucked your skirts up to your hips, bending you over slightly. He soon followed, caging you in with his chest to your back.
“I felt it only right… that I take you like this. To have us like wild beasts.” He whispered.
And you honestly did not care. He could have chosen to take you in any position, and you would have welcomed it. You just needed your husband here and now. You placed both of your hands back up against the tree trunk, stabilizing yourself in your utterly exposed position. You felt a flash of vulnerability in such a position, in a place like this, associated with dangers, but your heart did not allow you to dwell on it. Because Loki was here with you, and you trusted him with your entire soul, and knew he would not let anything hurt you. Because you knew that your souls were yours as much as each other’s.
You came back to the present when you heard him chuckle darkly before delivering a light slap to your right ass cheek (and then squeezing it indulgently). You felt yourself tighten at the sensation, and you could tell he enjoyed the sight.
“You delightful darling… no undergarments, all so that I might feast my eyes on this sweet jewel all the quicker.” He praised you as if he hadn’t pulled off your undergarments himself in your chambers before you’d left for the forest and had a taste.
Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of the tip of his cock gently running up and down your slit. Loki’s other hand moved to your hip, rubbing it soothingly with his thumb.
“Are you ready for me, pet? I ask out of the sheer kindness of my heart and the manners I was raised with. I can clearly see you are prepared to take me, my excited minx.”
You nodded, your legs feeling as if they were ready to give out from anticipation. It was like this every time with him, and yet you never could get used to it.
Loki was truly taking it far this time. He got closer to you, and decided to keep torturing you both by pressing his tip inside of you and then pulling it out, and this repeatedly. You could feel how frustrated he was (even though it was his own decision to do this) by how his hand around your hip tightened slightly.
“Ohh, I’ll make you mine forever, pet, once you take me in.” He growled lowly, his eyes on where you were both joined.
You moaned lowly and pressed back against him, taking his cock further. It was enough to have him give in, and he simply let yourself sink back onto his cock with a soft groan.
“Yesss…” He hissed, placing his other hand atop yours on the bark.
From there, it became as wild and animalistic as he’d promised. You both did not hold back on your sounds of pleasure, and he held you tight, pressing hot kisses to your neck.
"Norns, I love this sweet cunt. My very own piece of Valhalla, hm?" He was panting in your ear.
"I love you, I love you-" You babbled, panting and jostling forward with his thrusts.
"I know... I love you, too, my darling. My angelic beauty, my siren, my nymph." He groaned, pulling you in closer and lifting both your torsos up by wrapping an arm around your middle. He then turned your head and angled it towards his for a messy kiss.
You'd both been playing this game for far too long, teasing one another and letting pure adrenaline course through your veins. You knew you would not last much longer, and by the way Loki was clutching you and had finally forgone your game, you knew he wouldn't, either.
He seemed to know, as well, likely from how he felt you tightening around him, and feeling your thighs start to tremble.
"Reach down and touch yourself, my love." He ordered and it came out sounding far harsher than he'd meant it with how he was panting.
And you, eager to make you both feel as good as he was making you feel, reached down with a trembling hand and began to touch yourself, rubbing your clitoris. Your body's reaction was immediate, and the way you tightened around Loki's cock was nearly his undoing.
"Nornssss," He hissed, though it sounded much like a whine, too. "I am... besotted with you, and your sounds, and the feel... of you." He panted, pulling you back against his cock more firmly, a sign he was nearly at his peak. "I would chase you... through the Nine... Realms-"
"Loki..." You cried his name into the serene echo of the forest, and that was all it took for your husband.
He let out a low groan of your own name, his forehead pressing to the back of your head as he gave a few more sharp thrusts before stopping, buried to the hilt inside of you. You could feel him coming to completion, warming you from the inside. You kept up the pace of your fingers' own movements, so very close to your own peak, but it wasn't long before Loki, still pit of breath, moved your hand aside and took over the movements for you.
"My darling... grant me this one wish, this one blessing... come around me, please." He pleaded with you, his words so very moving in a moment so fiercely erotic. "I wish to feel the pleasure I give you."
A cry of his name came a few moments later from your throat, and he nodded against your temple, speaking soft words of encouragement and kissing the side of your face tenderly.
You both slumped against the tree, breathing hard. Then, Loki moved you both around, so he could sit down with his back to the tree trunk and pull you into his lap, holding you to him. He tenderly brushed his fingers across your back, kissing your forehead a few times and letting you catch your breath. When he felt you relax and go lax in his arms, he tilted his head to look at you.
"Well? How was that?" He grinned.
"Utterly debauched, husband. I feel like an unruly bride who has just eloped with her love, unable to wait a moment longer.”
“Ah, then you would be the prettiest unruly bride that ever was, my perfect vixen. You were exquisite.” He was utterly smug and he was unafraid to show it. He seemed to even sit taller somehow, even when sitting up against a tree in a damned forest.
“Do you feel well?” He proceeded, now much more genuine and gentle. “Are you hurt anywhere? Were you scared whilst we played chase?”
You shook your head, pressing the side of it against his chest. He gently rested his chin atop your head, in turn.
“That gladdens me, my love. Do you need anything? I shall get us into a bath once we are back home, and then I shall get you beneath our furs to warm you.” He promised tenderly.
“I am alright, darling… Perhaps a bit unsteady on my feet at the moment, is all.” You replied, your voice a tad hoarse.
“It shall pass, my love.” He replied, attempting to hold back his pride at your confession.
“Did I mention how perfect you were and how beautiful you looked? It was utterly enchanting to chase after you, my love. You were like an elusive nymph, made in shape and mind solely with tormenting me in mind. And you played the part of a scared doe so very well, my little performer.”
“Perhaps next time you shall be the doe. Except I will not chase you.”
He laughed softly.
“If I was to be your prey, my love, I would willingly come to you. You are utterly irresistible.”
You remained in quaint silence for a short while.
“…Do you think we are missed in the palace? Perhaps we should begin making our way back so that we are back before dark.”
“We shall go soon, my love. But I cannot possibly let you go as you are.”
“What do you mean?” You asked, watching as Loki suddenly pulled one of his thicker cloaks out of a bit of green mist, setting it easily down onto the ground by the both of you.
“Sit there, my darling.” He urged you patiently, helping you sit yourself onto the cloak, much to your confusion. From there, he gently helped you lie back on it all while settling himself between your legs with a boyish glimmer of mischief in his eyes.
“My love, I do not understand-”
“-Shh, my darling. Will you allow me to do this? I would not, in good conscience, let this go to waste.” Loki murmured, slowly rucking up your skirts. You looked at him with slow understanding, reaching towards him.
He simply caught your hand in his own, pressing a kiss to it.
“Husband, that is incredibly filthy…” You began, watching him with trepidation (and a bit of undeniable thrill).
“It is not, my love. It is simply the two of us.” He reasoned softly, finally seeing your bare cunt come into view again, now messy from a mixture of your respective cum.
“You cannot truly wish to-”
“Do you want me to stop?” He asked softly, watching you seriously.
You shook your head a bit too quickly and he smiled before leaning in to lick a line up your slit, unbothered.
You moaned, your other hand going to his head and curling into his hair.
Loki, all too happily, pulled away after a few moments of uninterrupted silence, licking at his lips.
“I must say, dearest, I am upset I have not thought of this before. We taste quite nice.”
You groaned, embarrassed just as much as you were aroused.
“You are truly devious, husband.”
“I shall take that as the highest compliment, especially coming from my muse.”
“Your muse?” You repeated, raising a brow, watching him fix your skirts.
“Naturally, my love. Who else would have inspired me to come up with such a filthy adventure?” Loki grinned, leaning over to kiss your covered hip.
Loki had followed through on his promise to devour his prey after all.
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description: following the demobat attack, eddie's in a coma three hours away fighting for his life. while the rest of the party tries their best to move forward, you find yourself stuck somewhere between hope and grief, balancing your own heartbreak while trying to keep dustin from completely falling apart.
pairing: eddie x you (fem!reader)
tags: post season 4, coma au, reader insert, eddie's gf! reader, hurt/comfort, heavy angst, emotional hurt/comfort, protective reader, season 5 vibe dustin, make sure you have tissues on standby, season 5 vibe steve, everyone in this group needs therapy, dustin smokes a cigarette and immediately regrets it, steve getting clocked, probably one of the most dramatic, emotions-focused fic i have ever written tbh
TW: grief themes, emotion heavy
WC: 6.1k
A/N: so i saw a tiktok edit to 'I Told You Things' by Gracie Abrams that immediately gave me inspo to write this fic. it's very reader and oc heavy, but i promise it's worth it. (definitely tear-jerking fs)
reblogs are always appreciated friends <33
I didn’t run away this time…right?
“Hey…” Nancy’s voice shifts you back into the present. She’s standing at the foot of your bed, soda bottle in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. You lift your jaw just enough to acknowledge her presence, eyes quickly scanning the scene.
“Your mom said you hadn’t been out much, so I wanted to bring your favorite. Chicken sandwich, extra pickles, no tomato, right? And a Coke, of course.”
You turn your head away, nodding once. “Yeah, that’s great. Thanks, Nance.”
She half-smiles, placing the contents onto your crowded nightstand and slowly approaching you, kneeling on the floor. “We all miss you, y’know? I know school starting tomorrow may be hard, but I think you should try to go.”
She means well; you can tell that much. Nancy would never try to make you do something out of her own selfish desires. And, to a point, she is right. You have a couple more months of school left; then you never have to step foot in Hawkins High ever again.
If only it were that simple, though.
Because now, not only do you have to attend school with the same assholes who make your life a living hell, you now have to do it alone. Sure, you have the party, but it’s not the same.
Nobody's going to walk down the hallways holding your hand, obnoxiously loud and completely unashamed of it. Nobody's going to lean against your locker and make stupid comments just to get a smile out of you. Nobody's going to slip notes into your textbooks or steal fries off your lunch tray while insisting he was "saving you from yourself."
Nobody's going to be there.
The realization still hits you at random. Like a punch. Like a car crash. Like waking up every morning and having to remember all over again.
Nancy watches your face carefully; she's always been good at reading people.
"You don't have to stay all day," she says softly. "Just... maybe try first period. See how it feels."
You let out a dry laugh. "See how it feels?"
Nancy's shoulders sink slightly. "I didn't mean—"
"I know what you meant." Your eyes stay fixed on the wall. "It's just funny."
The word funny comes out sounding anything but. "You know what's gonna happen tomorrow?"
Nancy doesn't answer.
"People are gonna stare."
Your throat tightens.
"They're gonna whisper."
You look down at your hands.
"And they're gonna talk about him."
The room falls silent, because you both know exactly who him is. Not Eddie the person. Not Eddie who spent three hours teaching Dustin how to play guitar. Not Eddie who drove halfway across Indiana because you casually mentioned wanting to see a meteor shower.
No.
They're going to talk about Eddie Munson. The freak. The murderer. The devil worshipper. The missing suspect. The monster. The version of him Hawkins created because the truth was too complicated.
Nancy looks away first. You hate that; you hate when people do that. When they can't even argue because they know you're right.
"He isn't dead." The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.
Nancy freezes. Because nobody talks about it, not really. The Party knows. Steve knows. Robin knows. Nancy knows. Your parents know because they had to. And that's it.
The secret sits between all of you like a loaded gun. Two states away. In a hospital room. Machines breathing and blinking and keeping time. Eddie Munson: twenty feet from life, twenty feet from death. And nobody knows which direction he's moving.
"He isn't dead," you repeat quietly.
Nancy's eyes soften. "I know."
"No, you don't." The words come out sharper than intended. You immediately see the hurt flash across her face.
But you're too tired to apologize. Too angry. Too exhausted. Too everything.
"Everyone keeps acting like he's gone."
"Nobody thinks that."
"You do."
Nancy shakes her head. "I don't."
"You do." Your voice cracks. The first crack all day, the first sign that maybe the anger isn't holding as well as you thought. "Because every time someone talks about him, they use the past tense."
Nancy goes silent.
"'He was funny.'" Your eyes burn.
"'He was brave.'" Your fingers curl into the blanket.
You stare at the ceiling while Nancy stares at the floor. And neither of you says anything for a long moment.
Finally, she speaks first, "Have you talked to Dustin?"
You immediately scoff. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because he doesn't want to talk."
Nancy gives you a look. "Dustin always wants to talk."
You shake your head. "Not anymore."
And that's the worst part, because Dustin Henderson used to talk constantly. Now every conversation feels like pulling teeth.
Every answer is one word. Every smile is fake. Every joke sounds rehearsed. The kid who used to light up every room he walked into now looks permanently pissed off at the world. You understand why, you really do. Because every morning you wake up angry too.
Angry at Vecna. Angry at Hawkins. Angry at the government. Angry at every stupid machine keeping Eddie alive while refusing to wake him up.
Some days you're even angry at him. For being brave. For being stupid. For staying behind. For making the choice he made. But it wouldn’t be Eddie without some stupid decisions, right?
A month into the school year, you'd developed a routine. Not because things had gotten easier, just because people could get used to almost anything, even misery.
You woke up. You got dressed. You ignored your reflection. You went to school. You came home. You stared at the ceiling until sleep finally dragged you under, then you did it all again.
The hallways of Hawkins High felt different now. People had moved on from the "earthquake", from the deaths. From the nightmares...at least on the surface.
But grief had settled into the cracks of everything. You saw it every time you looked at Dustin. At first, everyone had hovered around him. Mike. Lucas. Will. His mom. You.
The entire Party treating him like he might shatter if somebody breathed too hard. The problem was that Dustin Henderson hated being treated like glass. So eventually everyone stopped, everyone except you.
Not because you thought he was fragile, but because you knew exactly how much energy it took to pretend you weren't. You saw it in the way he walked through the halls now: head down, shoulders tense, jaw constantly clenched.
The bright-eyed kid who used to wave his arms around while talking now kept his hands shoved into his pockets. The kid who used to laugh loud enough to get yelled at by teachers now barely spoke in class. And whenever somebody mentioned Eddie, you saw it.
The split-second flinch to the immediate anger. The way he looked like he wanted to swing at somebody. So you stayed close.
Not hovering, just nearby, close enough to step in when necessary. Which, unfortunately, was becoming a full-time job.
"Dude, seriously, stop." You grabbed the back of Dustin's jacket as he attempted to launch himself across the cafeteria.
"LET GO OF ME."
"No."
"He's literally asking for it."
Across the room, Jason Carver's former teammates sat laughing at a table. One of them made a dramatic devil-horn gesture when he noticed Dustin looking. The others laughed. Dustin immediately tried to commit murder, again.
You hauled him backward. "Dustin."
"He called Eddie a freak."
"He always calls Eddie a freak."
"Exactly."
"Dustin."
"Let me hit him."
"No."
"One punch."
"No."
"Half a punch."
You sighed. "No such thing."
He groaned loudly as you dragged him toward the exit doors. "You're worse than Steve."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"It is today."
The second the cafeteria doors shut behind you, Dustin yanked his arm free. "Why do you keep stopping me?"
You stared at him. "Seriously?"
"Yeah." His face was red, eyes bright with anger. "Nobody does anything."
"Dustin—"
"They say whatever they want." His voice cracked. "They get to talk about him like he's some psychopath and everybody just lets them."
The fight immediately left your body, because there it was: the real reason. Not anger, pain.
You leaned back against the wall. "He thinks he knows who Eddie was. But we know the real him, and that's what matters"
Dustin looked away. "It doesn't matter."
"It does."
"No." His laugh sounded bitter. "It really doesn't."
The hallway fell quiet. Students passed by, lockers slammed, a teacher yelled somewhere in the distance. But neither of you moved.
Finally, Dustin muttered, "I should've been quicker."
Your heart dropped. "Dustin."
"I should've."
"You know that's not true."
"How?" His voice rose immediately. "How do you know?"
You pushed away from the wall. "Because if you had gone back, you'd be dead too."
"Maybe."
"No."
"DON'T."
Several students turned to look. Dustin lowered his voice immediately, but somehow it sounded even worse. "Don't tell me what would've happened."
You swallowed. Because this conversation? Is one that kept coming back, the one neither of you ever won.
"He was alone."
"Dustin."
"He was alone, and I was too injured to get there quicker."
Your throat tightened, because you'd thought the same thing. A thousand times. Ten thousand. Every night. Every morning. Every second in between. But you couldn't let him live there, not forever.
"You know what would've happened if you went back? If you tried to step in?"
Dustin crossed his arms. "What?"
"Eddie would've thrown you through a wall and made you leave."
His mouth twitched, just barely. The smallest crack in the anger.
"He would've. You know he would've"
Dustin rolled his eyes. "Probably."
"Definitely."
"He would've called me a little shit."
"Absolutely."
The corner of his mouth lifted, then immediately fell again. But it was something. You'd learned to count those moments.
The knock came a little after nine. You almost didn't hear it.
The cigarette balanced lazily between your fingers as you sat on the front porch steps, wrapped in one of Eddie’s old hoodies despite the lingering warmth of September. The neighborhood was quiet. Crickets sang somewhere in the distance, and a dog barked a few houses over.
For the first time all day, your head had finally gone quiet. Then came the knock. Not on the front door, but on the porch railing. You turned your head and immediately sat up.
"Dustin?"
His left eye was swelling. There was blood on his lip. More smeared across the collar of his shirt. One knuckle looked completely split open.
"Dustin, what the hell happened?"
He shrugged the world's most Dustin Henderson shrug. "Got into a fight."
You stared. "A fight."
"Yeah."
"Dustin."
"What?"
"Dustin."
His eyes rolled. "Oh my God, please stop saying my name like that."
You stood up. "What happened?"
"Some guy."
"What guy?"
"Some asshole."
"What asshole?"
"The usual kind."
You sighed. Of course. Of course it was that. You already knew before he even said it. The bruises. The expression. The way he was trying way too hard to act normal. Somebody had said something about Eddie. Again.
You moved aside and jerked your head toward the porch steps. "Sit."
"I'm fine."
"Dustin."
"Okay, Jesus."
He sat. You disappeared inside long enough to grab a first aid kit from the bathroom before returning. The second you sat down beside him, he groaned.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"You aren't my mom."
"Thank God for that."
He snorted.
You grabbed his chin before he could protest and turned his face toward the porch light. The split lip looked nasty. Nothing broken, probably. Hopefully.
"You should see the other guy."
"Did you win?"
A small grin appeared. "Barely."
"Proud of you."
"Thank you."
"You shouldn't have done it."
"I know."
You dabbed antiseptic against his lip, and he hissed. "Ow."
"Good."
"You're mean."
"So I've been told."
The conversation faded after that. You finished patching up his knuckles while he stared out into the darkness beyond your yard.
Eventually he spoke.
"I miss him." The words came so quietly you almost missed them.
"I know."
Dustin swallowed; you could see the tension building in his jaw. The way he was trying to keep himself together. The way he'd been trying for months.
"He would've loved this."
You glanced over. "What?"
"The fight." A watery laugh escaped him. "He would've thought it was hilarious."
You smiled despite yourself. "He would've bought you ice cream afterward."
"Exactly."
"And told everyone you won way harder than you actually did."
Dustin nodded. "Exactly."
"I hope he wakes up," he whispers.
You looked down at the bandage wrapped around his hand. "So do I."
"No." His voice cracked. "I really hope he wakes up."
And there it was, the thing neither of you ever said out loud. Because hoping meant acknowledging the possibility that he might not.
The possibility sat in the corner of every room. Every conversation. Every hospital update. Every phone call. Nobody wanted to look at it, but it was always there.
Dustin wiped aggressively at his eyes, angry at the tears before they even fell.
"I just..." His shoulders shook. "I just need him to wake up."
Your chest tightened. "Dustin."
"He deserves to." The tears came anyway.
"I know."
"He deserves to see Wayne again."
"I know."
"He deserves to play another show."
"I know."
"He deserves—" His voice broke completely; the rest of the sentence never came out.
You wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer immediately. No hesitation, no questions. Because some hurts couldn't be fixed, only carried. And for a few minutes, Dustin cried.
Hard enough to let some of it out, enough to breathe again. Eventually he leaned back, red-eyed and embarrassed. You pretended not to notice, a kindness the both of you appreciated. Then his gaze landed on the cigarette still burning between your fingers.
"Oh."
"No."
"What?"
"No."
His eyes narrowed. "You know what I'm gonna ask."
"Absolutely not."
"Come on."
"No."
"One hit."
"Dustin."
"One."
"No."
"I'm basically an adult."
"You are fifteen."
"Close enough."
You laughed. "Not even remotely."
He groaned dramatically. "Please."
You stared at him, then at the bruises, then at the exhausted expression. Then back at him.
"This is a horrible idea."
"Probably."
"A terrible one."
"Definitely."
"You better not tell anybody."
His face lit up as you handed it over, immediately regretting every life decision that had led you here. Dustin took the cigarette, trying very hard to look cool. Trying even harder to look experienced. Then he inhaled.
A second later, he nearly died. The coughing started instantly, while you doubled over laughing.
"Oh, my God."
"SHUT UP."
He coughed harder. "THAT'S DISGUSTING."
"You're such an idiot."
"Why do people do that voluntarily?"
"Excellent question."
Dustin handed the cigarette back as if it had personally betrayed him. You were still laughing when the phone rang, freezing you both. You exchanged a look, then stood.
"Probably my mom."
"Probably."
The phone continued ringing. You stepped inside, crossed the living room, and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
Static. Then, "Get to the Wheelers."
You blinked. "Steve?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
"Mandatory meeting."
"What happened?"
"Can't say."
"Steve."
"Can't say."
"Steve."
"Nope."
"What kind of mandatory meeting?"
Steve sighed. "The kind where everyone needs to be here."
“Fine.”
The second you walked into the Wheeler basement, you knew something was wrong. Not apocalypse wrong, not Upside Down wrong, just...wrong.
Everyone was there. Mike sat on the couch, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Will was beside him, staring holes into the carpet. Lucas and Max occupied the recliner, knees bouncing anxiously. Robin was pacing. Nancy stood with her arms folded. And Steve—
Steve looked like he was about to deliver the world's worst speech. The second Dustin entered behind you, the room went quiet. A sinking feeling settled into your stomach.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
Nobody answered, which was answer enough. Dustin immediately turned around. "Nope."
"Dustin—"
"Nope."
"Dude, just sit down."
"Nope."
Steve stepped forward. "Dustin."
"What?"
"Sit."
Dustin looked at the room, then at you, then back at the room. His face twisted immediately. "Oh, my God."
"Dustin—"
"You guys are serious?"
You rubbed a hand down your face. "Steve."
"We just want to talk."
The words sounded rehearsed, which meant they probably were.
Dustin barked out a laugh. "Oh, this is an intervention."
Robin immediately pointed at him. "Okay, don't call it that."
"It literally is."
"It isn't."
"It literally is."
"It isn't."
"It definitely is."
"Can everybody just sit down?" Nancy asked.
Against every instinct in his body, Dustin finally dropped onto the couch, and you sat beside him. Steve cleared his throat, then immediately looked uncomfortable.
"We're worried about you."
Dustin stared, blank-faced and silent as Steve continued. "You've been getting into fights."
No response.
"You're getting detention almost every week."
Nothing.
"You skipped three classes last Thursday."
Dustin finally spoke. "Four."
Steve blinked. "What?"
"It was four."
"Dustin."
"I'm just correcting you."
You could practically feel Mike's patience evaporating. "Dude, that's not the point."
Dustin turned toward him. "Then what's the point?"
Mike opened his mouth, hesitated, then realized the only way out was through. "The point is you're acting like an asshole."
The room immediately went still. You closed your eyes, because there it was, the exact wrong thing to say.
"Damn it, Mike."
"What?" Mike asked.
"Dude."
"What?"
Dustin laughed. "Oh, I'm acting like an asshole."
Mike groaned. "That's not what I meant."
"No, it is."
"Dustin."
"No, go ahead." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "Tell me how much I suck."
Nobody spoke, and the tension thickened. Lucas finally leaned forward. "Dustin, nobody thinks you suck."
"Then why am I here?"
"Because we're worried."
"About what?"
Lucas hesitated, and that hesitation said everything. Because nobody wanted to say it.
Nobody wanted to admit it. Nobody wanted to be the first person to acknowledge what everyone already knew.
You watched Dustin realize it in real time. Watched the anger drain away, and saw something else take its place. Something worse.
"You think I'm becoming him."
The room froze, and Mike immediately shook his head.
"No,” but it sounded weak.
"You think I'm becoming Eddie."
"Dustin—"
"No."
His voice rose. "You think I'm becoming some angry screw-up who gets into fights and skips class and ends up dead."
The word dead hit the room like a gunshot. Robin looked away. Nancy swallowed. Will stared at the floor. And Steve looked heartbroken. "Dustin."
But Dustin was already standing. "You know what's funny?"
Nobody answered.
"You all get to be worried." His voice shook. "You all get to sit here and talk about grief and healing and moving forward." The room fell silent. "But nobody asks me."
"I'm done."
"Dustin."
"No."
"Dustin."
"No."
And then he was gone, storming up the basement stairs. The door slammed hard enough to shake the room. You stood fast enough that your chair nearly tipped over.
"Seriously?"
Steve blinked. "What?"
"What?" The word came out sharp, months of anger suddenly finding somewhere to go. "What the hell was that?"
Steve's face immediately hardened. "We were trying to help."
"No."
You shook your head. "You were trying to fix him. And nice going, by the way. Real efficient work."
By the time you got upstairs and outside, Dustin was long gone. You knew exactly where he’d be hiding, but you knew better than to provoke him when he was feeling this way. So, you leaned against the Wheelers’ house and sparked another cigarette.
You remembered how Eddie would always read you like a book; the mere sight of you with a cigarette tucked behind your lips always earned a “What’s stressing you out, sweetheart?” The thought of him tucking your hair behind your ear while he asked caused a teary-eyed laugh to escape you.
“You okay?” Steve asked, popping around the side of the house.
You laughed, pulling another long drag before answering, “Peachy.”
Steve shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and leaned against the siding a few feet away. The cigarette glowed softly between your fingers. The sounds of the Wheeler basement drifted faintly through the house. You already knew everybody inside was talking about Dustin.
Trying to figure out what went wrong. Trying to figure out how to fix him, like he was a broken appliance.
"You know," Steve finally said, "the intervention wasn't just for him."
You looked over. "What?"
His jaw tightened. "It was for you too."
Immediately, your expression darkened. "Excuse me?"
Steve sighed. "I knew you'd react like that."
"No, seriously." You pointed at yourself with the cigarette. "Explain."
"You've been letting him get away with everything."
You actually laughed; a short, humorless sound. "Oh, we're doing this?"
"Yeah." Steve straightened. "We are."
You stared at him, waiting.
"He's getting into fights every week."
"He misses Eddie."
"Everybody misses Eddie."
"Right, because you and him were so close."
Steve stared you down for a second, then continued.
"And every time he gets himself into trouble, you're right there covering for him."
You scoffed. "Because somebody has to."
"No." Steve shook his head. "Somebody has to be the adult."
You looked away, taking another drag, trying very hard not to lose your temper; it wasn't working.
Steve continued anyway. "He smells like cigarettes now."
Your eyes narrowed. "What?"
"You heard me."
"Steve."
"He smells like cigarettes."
Your stomach dropped, because of course he'd noticed. Everyone probably had. Dustin had only taken a couple of drags that night, but still. You knew where this was heading.
"You think I encouraged him to smoke?"
Steve gave you a look, a look that answered the question all by itself.
You barked out a laugh. "Oh, my God."
"I'm serious."
"You think I'm corrupting Dustin?"
"I think you're both spiraling."
The cigarette trembled slightly between your fingers. You hated that he wasn't entirely wrong, and you hated it even more because he was saying it.
"That's rich."
Steve's eyebrows furrowed. "What does that mean?"
You looked at him. And suddenly all the anger you'd been carrying around for months rose to the surface; raw and ugly.
"You wanna know what's rich?" Your voice dropped, dangerously calm.
"Maybe if you weren't trying so hard to play hero for Nancy..."
Steve immediately froze.
"...Eddie would've never had to."
The silence that followed felt radioactive. Steve's face went blank, then hardened fast.
"Don't."
"Oh, don't?" You laughed. "No, let's."
"Don't do that."
"Let's." You took another long drag, tilting your head back to exhale.
"I think the real reason why you're so pissed that Dustin is acting this way is that he's pushing you away. Which is funny, isn't it?"
You laughed, shaking your head. "While you were busy chasing tail and pushing him away, he found someone who actually cared about him and his interests. Kinda selfish to ask him to just fall back into your arms now, isn't it?"
His jaw clenched. "Eddie didn't have to play hero either."
The words hit you like a slap, causing your eyes to widen. "What?"
"He didn't."
Steve stepped closer. "He made a choice."
"He saved your life."
"He made a choice."
"He saved everyone's life."
"He made a stupid choice. And for what? The towns still fucked."
Something inside you snapped. The cigarette hit the grass; you flicked it away so hard it disappeared into the darkness.
"What did you just say?"
Steve immediately realized he'd gone too far. But it was already out there, already hanging between you. Already impossible to take back.
"He shouldn't have stayed."
Your chest tightened.
"He shouldn't have been there."
"Steve."
"He shouldn't have gone back."
"Steve."
"He shouldn't have—"
"He did it because you couldn't!" The words exploded out of you. Steve physically recoiled. "He did it because somebody had to."
"That's bullshit."
"No." You stepped closer. "That's the truth."
His face darkened. "No."
"Eddie picked up the slack."
"Stop."
"Somebody had to save everyone."
"STOP."
The shout echoed through the quiet neighborhood, and you both froze, breathing hard. Months of grief. Months of guilt. Months of anger. All finally spilling out.
Steve ran a hand through his hair, looking absolutely exhausted.
"You wanna know what nobody says?"
Your stomach dropped because his tone had changed. This wasn't anger anymore; this was something worse, something bitter and ugly.
"Nobody says what happens if he wakes up."
You stared, not understanding. "What?"
Steve laughed, but there wasn't anything funny in it. "If he wakes up."
The words felt wrong, like hearing someone curse in church. If. If. You couldn't breathe.
Steve looked away toward the road, toward the darkness, towards anywhere but you. "You think everything just goes back to normal?"
Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. "Steve."
"No."
"Everybody keeps talking about him waking up like it's some miracle ending."
Your hands curled into fists. "Stop talking."
"But what then?"
"Steve."
"What then?"
His eyes found yours. "And before you say it, I know he's innocent." The words came fast now, years of frustration pouring out. "But Hawkins doesn't."
You shook your head. "Stop."
"Half the town thinks he murdered people."
"Steve."
"The cops still want him."
"Steve."
"And if he comes back—"
Your stomach twisted. "Shut up."
"—if he comes back—"
"Shut up."
"—he's still gonna be the freak."
The world narrowed. "Steve."
"He's still gonna be the murderer to them."
"Stop."
"And honestly?" The next words sealed his fate. "All it's gonna do is make everyone's lives harder."
You hit him, hard. The crack echoed across the Wheeler yard. Steve stumbled backward, completely shocked, one hand immediately flying to his jaw.
You'd never hit anybody before, not like that. Not with every ounce of anger in your body behind it. But this? This felt easy.
Steve stared at you, breathing hard, and you stared right back. Eyes burning, tears finally spilling over.
Months of grief. Months of fear. Months of watching the person you loved fight for his life hundreds of miles away. Months of pretending you were okay, gone.
"Fuck you, Steve." Your voice shook. "Fuck. You."
Steve didn't say anything. Maybe because he knew he'd crossed a line. Maybe because part of him agreed. Maybe because he saw the tears. You didn't care; you just turned and walked away.
And when Steve called your name, you didn't stop.
The ride to the hospital was a long, blurry mess. After Steve’s botched attempt at an intervention, you ran home and immediatley hopped in your car. The only person you wanted to see was five hours away, and nothing was stopping you from seeing him, even if that person couldn’t talk back.
By the time you arrived, it was well after midnight. The familiar fluorescent lights of the hospital made your stomach twist the same way they always did. You knew the route by heart now. Past the front desk. Down the long hallway. Left at the nurses' station. Third door on the right.
You hated that you knew it by heart.
The room was dark except for the glow of the monitors. The steady beeping filled the silence as you stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind you. Eddie looked exactly the same as he had the last time you were here. Same pale skin. Same curls spread against the pillow. Same stillness that made your chest ache every single time you looked at him.
"Hey, handsome." Your voice sounded rough.
You dropped your bag onto the chair and moved toward him automatically, settling into your usual routine. The nurses knew you by now. They never stopped you when you came in. Half the time they left extra blankets in the room because they knew you'd end up staying all night.
You sat down beside him and reached for the brush on the nightstand. Carefully, gently, you began working through his curls.
"You're getting ridiculous, you know that?" you murmured. "I swear your hair is longer than mine now."
The corners of your mouth twitched. "You'd probably love that."
Once his curls were untangled, you reached for the small cassette player you'd practically worn out over the past few months. The tape clicked softly as it started playing. His mixtape, the one he'd made for you. The one you'd listened to so many times that every crackle and skip was memorized.
The music filled the room quietly. For a moment, you just listened. Then your eyes burned again. Because of course they did.
"You remember when you gave me this?" you asked softly. "You spent three days pretending it wasn't a gift because you were nervous."
A laugh escaped you. "You literally left it in my locker and acted shocked when I found it."
Your hand found his; cold and still.
"You were so bad at flirting." You stared down at your intertwined fingers.
"You know, I was thinking about that day at Lover's Lake. The one where you nearly tipped the boat because you were trying to impress me."
A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. "You swore you knew what you were doing."
You laughed through your nose. "You absolutely did not know what you were doing."
The memory lingered for a second before fading. And suddenly the smile disappeared, just like it always did. Because every good memory ended the same way now. With the realization that it was a memory. Not something you'd get to experience again. At least not yet.
Your throat tightened. "Dustin's having a rough time."
Your voice dropped. "He got into another fight."
You rubbed your thumb across the back of Eddie's hand. "I think he misses you more than he knows how to admit."
The tears came before you could stop them. "He acts tough about it. Tries to be angry instead of sad."
You swallowed. "Guess he learned that from us."
Your gaze dropped to the floor. The words started spilling out before you could stop them, like they always did when it was just the two of you, him awake or not.
"Everybody's falling apart, Eds."
Your voice cracked.
"Mike and Lucas keep snapping at each other. Robin's pretending she's okay. Nancy barely sleeps. Wayne calls every week asking if there's any change and I never know what to tell him."
Your shoulders slumped. "And Dustin..." You shook your head. "Dustin's breaking my heart."
The room remained silent, only the music answered. Only the machines. Only the steady reminder that he was still here. Still breathing. Still fighting.
You wiped angrily at your eyes. "I'm trying."
Another tear slipped down your cheek. "I'm really trying."
"I keep telling myself if I can just hold everybody together a little longer, you'll wake up, and everything will be okay."
You laughed. The sound was pathetic. "I know that's stupid."
Your eyes closed. "Some days I don't even feel like me anymore."
The tears came harder now. Months of grief finally finding somewhere to go.
"I punched Steve." A watery laugh escaped you. "There. Thought you'd appreciate that."
You sniffled. "He said some really awful stuff."
Your voice trembled. "So I punched him."
Another laugh, another sob. "Honestly, you'd probably be proud."
You covered your face. The ugly crying started then, the kind nobody ever talks about. The kind that leaves your chest aching, your nose running, and your entire body shaking. You stared down at the floor. At your shoes. At anything except him. Because looking at him hurt too much.
"I miss you." The words came out broken. "I miss you so much."
You squeezed your eyes shut. The tears wouldn't stop. "I need you."
Your shoulders shook. "Please wake up."
Nothing. Just silence. Just the tape playing softly. Just another night. Just another conversation that would never be answered. You dropped your head, staring at the floor. Crying too hard to even wipe your face anymore.
Then, a rasp. Tiny, barely audible. Your brow furrowed, and you froze. The room suddenly felt too quiet. Another sound, a rough inhale.
And then, "Hey..."
Your head snapped upward and every muscle in your body locked. For one horrible second, you thought you imagined it. Thought exhaustion had finally gotten to you. But then you saw it. His eyes. Open. Heavy. Groggy. Confused. But open.
Your breath caught violently in your throat. Neither of you moved. Neither of you breathed. Eddie blinked slowly. His gaze wandered around the room before finally settling on you. Even exhausted. Even weak. Even after everything, he recognized you immediately.
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Hey, pretty girl."
A sob escaped you; fresh tears immediately spilled down your face.
Eddie frowned weakly, or at least attempted to. His voice came out rough and scratchy from disuse.
"No crying."
You laughed and cried at the same time, completely unable to stop either. His eyes fluttered slightly, still fighting to stay open.
But the smile remained. "No crying, sweetheart."
The next hour felt less like reality, and more like some strange dream you were terrified of waking up from. You cried, a lot. Eddie was awake for maybe thirty seconds before you burst into tears all over again, which earned you a weak, sleepy laugh and a very groggy, "Jesus Christ, sweetheart."
Then you cried harder. Then a nurse came running in because your hysterical sobbing had apparently convinced half the floor that somebody was dying. Then doctors appeared. Then more nurses. Then you got shoved into the hallway while they checked everything.
And the entire time, Eddie never took his eyes off you, like he was afraid if he blinked you'd disappear. The second a doctor finally confirmed that yes, Eddie was awake, yes, he was responding appropriately, and yes, this wasn't some bizarre fluke, your hands immediately found the nearest phone.
The first call was Wayne. You barely got through the words. "He's awake."
The line went silent, then you heard Wayne start crying.
The second call was Dustin. You didn't even bother with hello. "Get in the car."
"What?"
"Get in the car."
"Why?"
"Dustin."
A pause. Then, "...why are you crying?"
You laughed, the first genuine laugh you'd had in months. "Just get in the damn car."
Twenty minutes later, every person you knew seemed to be squeezing into a hospital room designed for about three people.
Robin was crying. Nancy was crying. Wayne was definitely crying. Lucas looked like he was trying not to cry. Mike had completely given up trying not to cry. Will was standing quietly in the corner looking like he might pass out from relief.
And Dustin? Dustin hadn't left Eddie's side once. Not for a second. Not even when nurses politely suggested giving the patient some room, especially not then. You stood near the back of the room watching as Dustin practically sat on the edge of the hospital bed.
"You're an asshole."
Eddie blinked slowly. "What?"
"You're an asshole."
A weak smile pulled at Eddie's lips. "Good morning to you too."
Dustin's face immediately crumpled. "You suck."
"Dustin—"
"You suck."
Eddie's expression softened immediately, months of missed conversations suddenly sitting between them. "I know."
Dustin looked away. His eyes were already watering again. "You weren't supposed to do that."
The room went silent. Nobody interrupted, and nobody moved. Because this wasn't for them; it never was.
Eddie swallowed. "You okay, Henderson?"
Dustin laughed, A broken sound. "No."
Eddie nodded slowly. "Yeah."
Then Dustin did something that would've mortified him under normal circumstances. He hugged him, immediately and without warning. Without caring who saw, practically throwing himself against Eddie's side. You quietly slipped from the room before anyone noticed. Or at least before anyone besides Steve noticed.
The hospital coffee tasted exactly how hospital coffee always tasted. Like disappointment. You stood beside the vending machine, staring out the window while the paper cup warmed your hands.
The sunrise was beginning to creep over the horizon. Everything felt strange. Good, but strange. You still hadn't quite convinced yourself this was real. Footsteps approached; you didn't need to look up to know whose they belonged to.
"Hey, Harrington."
"Hey." Steve stopped beside you. "You hit really hard."
You barked out a laugh, and Steve rubbed his jaw dramatically. "I'm serious."
"Oh my God."
"I think you rearranged my face."
"I barely hit you."
Steve stared. "Nancy literally begged to take me to the hospital. Or the dentist."
You snorted into your coffee. "That's embarrassing."
"It is."
A small smile appeared on his face, the first you'd seen in a while. Then it disappeared.
"Hey."
You looked over; Steve shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'm sorry. For what I said."
The exhaustion in his voice sounded genuine. "I shouldn't have said it."
You stared down into your coffee.
"No." You swallowed. "You shouldn't have."
Steve nodded. "For the record."
You glanced over as Steve pointed toward the room. "If Munson finds out you broke my face, I'm telling him it was self-defense."
You laughed despite yourself. "You literally outweigh me by fifty pounds."
"And?"
"I'll hit you again."
“I’m sure you would.
Eventually the two of you made your way back down the hallway. The closer you got to the room, the louder the voices became. Robin. Dustin. Wayne. Mike. Everybody talking over each other, just like old times.
The second you stepped inside, Eddie's attention immediately snapped toward the door. Still pale. Still exhausted. Still looking like he'd been through hell. But awake.
A smile tugged at his lips when he saw you, then his eyes drifted toward Steve. His brow furrowed immediately. "Whoa."
The room quieted, and Steve froze. Eddie squinted, looking genuinely concerned. "Harrington."
Steve sighed. "No."
"What happened to your face?"
Steve pointed directly at you. "Ask your girlfriend."
A couple of weeks passed.
Not enough time to undo everything that had happened. Not enough time to heal months of fear and grief and nightmares that still woke everyone up in the middle of the night.
But enough for things to start feeling... possible again.
The doctors were cautiously optimistic. Eddie was still weaker than he'd ever admit out loud, still attending physical therapy, still complaining every single time someone reminded him to take it easy, but he was alive. Awake. Walking. Talking. Smiling.
Complaining. Which, according to Wayne, was the best sign of recovery they could've asked for.
The situation with Hawkins, however, was a little more complicated.
You'd gone straight to Hopper. He hadn't even let you finish your sentence before pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering, "Kid, I'm already working on it."
The whole story had been laid out in front of him. Owens had done what he could behind the scenes, Hopper had done the rest, and somewhere between paperwork, witness statements that would never see the light of day, and a whole lot of pulling strings that probably weren't entirely legal, the investigation into Eddie Munson quietly lost steam.
No dramatic public apology, no newspaper retracting everything they'd said, no magical moment where Hawkins suddenly realized they'd been wrong.
Just the charges disappearing. The warrants disappearing. His name disappearing from conversations. It wasn't justice, but it was enough.
Enough that Eddie could come home. Enough that he could enroll again. Enough that, after everything, he was finally going to graduate.
The morning he walked through the front doors of Hawkins High, the entire Party had insisted on escorting him in like he was some kind of celebrity. Dustin practically refused to leave Eddie's side for the entire day.
Eddie looked around the hallway with that same crooked grin you'd fallen in love with and whispered, "I still hate this place."
You laughed so hard you had to grab onto his arm. Months ago, you'd convinced yourself you'd never hear his voice again. Now he was complaining about school. Life was weird, wonderfully weird.
By the end of October, he'd started driving again. By November, he'd started playing guitar again.
The first time he picked it up, he'd only made it through half a song before quietly setting it back down, frustrated with how stiff his fingers felt.
You hadn't said a word. You'd just sat beside him, rested your head on his shoulder, taken his hand.
He looked at you for a long time before muttering, "You'll tell me if I suck now, right?"
You smiled. "I always did."
He rolled his eyes. "Brutal."
"You love me."
"I do." Then, after a dramatic pause, "But you're brutal."
Eventually the leaves started changing. The air turned cold enough that Eddie started stealing your jackets instead of the other way around.
One afternoon the two of you drove with no destination in mind until you ended up parked beside an open field just outside town. The grass had gone golden, the sky stretching endlessly overhead.
No monsters. No sirens. No hospitals. No machines. Just silence.
You spread out an old blanket and laid down first, staring up at the clouds. A second later, Eddie flopped down beside you with an exaggerated groan before immediately rolling over and pulling you against him.
You pressed your face against his chest, just because you could. His fingers absentmindedly combed through your hair.
Neither of you spoke for a while; you didn't have to. Eventually, he broke the silence, because of course he would.
"You know..."
"Hm?"
"I don't remember everything."
You tilted your head just enough to look at him. "What do you remember?"
He thought about it. "Bits."
"The bats."
You nodded.
"Wayne."
Another nod.
"I remember you crying."
You laughed quietly. "That doesn't narrow it down much."
"It really doesn't."
He smiled, then his expression softened. "I remember hearing your voice."
Your chest tightened. "When?"
"I don't know." His thumb brushed gently across your cheek. "It felt like every day."
You swallowed hard. "I talked a lot."
"I know."
"I told you everything."
"I know."
"I talked about Dustin."
"I know."
"I complained about Steve."
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I definitely know."
Your eyes stung. "I played your mixtape until I think I almost broke it."
His smile only grew. "I know that too."
You stared at him, confused.
"I heard you."
The world seemed to stop. "What?"
His voice was barely above a whisper. "I couldn't move."
"I couldn't answer." His own eyes had started to water now. "But I heard you."
A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.
"I heard every story."
Another.
"I heard you tell me about Dustin getting into fights."
Another.
"I heard you complain about hospital coffee."
You laughed through your tears, he reached up and brushed them away with his thumb.
"And..." His own voice cracked. "I heard you tell me you weren't giving up on me."
You couldn't speak; your throat had closed completely. So you just nodded a tiny, shaky nod.
Eddie smiled, small and tender. "You didn't."
"No."
"You could've."
"I wasn't going to."
"You should've."
"I wasn't going to."
Silence settled between you again. Then you leaned forward until your forehead rested against his.
"I would've sat in that hospital room for another ten years if I had to."
He shut his eyes, and a tear escaped anyway. "I know."
"I would've waited twenty."
"I know."
"I would've waited my whole life."
His breathing hitched.
You smiled through your own tears. "There wasn't really another option."
He looked at you for a long moment before leaning in and kissing you. Slowly, with no urgency and no desperation. Just gentle, soft enough that it felt more like a promise than a kiss.
When he pulled away, his forehead stayed against yours. "I love you."
You smiled. "I know."
He immediately frowned. "That's it?"
You laughed. "I love you too."
"Better."
Another kiss. Then another. One pressed against your forehead. Another against your temple. One against the tip of your nose just because he knew it made you laugh.
The sun continued sinking lower across the field.
Wrapped up in his arms, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you realized this was something that would've seemed impossible a few months ago.
Who cutting onions!?!?!?!
I'm sorry, I had to write this, though. I had that fight scene with Steve in my brain for a while.
A/N: Requested by @ludachrissy 💕 I hope you enjoy it
Pairing: Fiancé!Eddie x Fem!Reader
Summary: It’s your wedding day and Eddie is lovesick and desperate to have you all to himself. Even if it means stealing you away from your bridal suite right before the ceremony.
Content Warning: 18+ Smut, Fingering, Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk/Sexual Language, Swearing/Profanity, Slight Degradation (Use of the word slut).
Credit: dividers by @cafekitsune
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“Where the fuck is the bride?”
You could hear Nancy’s voice call out in a panicked tone as she rushes around the bridal suite in her heels and bridesmaid dress.
“Robin, where did she go?”
“I don’t know!” Robin replies, standing near the door of the room as she watched Nancy pace nervously.
Suddenly, the sound of hurried feet come from down the hall.
“Have you guys seen Eddie?” Dustin calls out, looking around the room at the two girls.
“Eddie’s missing too?” Nancy worries, her voice becoming higher and more stressed by the second.
“Yeah. He said he was going out for a smoke, like, twenty minutes ago and now we can’t find him.”
“Fuck!” Robin calls out “The ceremony is in fifteen minutes. What the fuck are we going to do?”
Nancy quickly turns towards Dustin, giving him a serious look. “I want a full search party. Don’t stop looking until you guys find them. I’ll handle the guests. They’ve got to be around here somewhere. I swear, I’m going to kill them both when we find them.”
────────
“Eddie, we’re going to be late.” You worry, looking down at your fiancé as he kneeled in front of you- his hands snaking underneath your dress as you help him bunch it up. “You’ve gotta be quick.”
“Okay, baby.” Eddie promises, rising back up from the floor of the coat room before he presses his lips hungrily against yours “I’ll be quick. I can be quick.”
He reaches down to the button of his dress pants, popping it up as your manicured fingers grip his dick through the fabric.
“Fuck, you look so beautiful.” He whispers, backing you into the wall behind you as he kisses you hard. “So fucking gorgeous. My beautiful fucking bride. God, I can’t wait to see you at the end of that aisle.”
“Guess you really can’t wait, huh?” You laugh as you tug down his zipper, pulling your hand into his pants to free his hard cock.
“Nope. Not when you look like that.” Eddie pants as you begin to stroke his dick, slowly working from the base to the sensitive tip “Oh, fuuuck, that feels good, baby. Need to be inside of you. Right now.”
“Okay.” You nod “How do you want me?”
“Fuck,” Eddie moans “Turn around and put your hands against the wall. As much as I wanna watch how pretty my bride looks, I need to cum fast. Okay? That okay?”
“Yes.” You nod “Want you to cum fast. Want you to fill me up.”
And those words had Eddie in a fucking trance.
“Yeah, baby? You want me to cum inside of you? Hm? You want me to fill you up so good that you have my fucking cum dripping down your thighs when you walk down the aisle to me? Yeah? Fuck, the hottest part? No one out there is gonna fucking know that I bred you before the wedding even fucking started.”
“Eddie!” You gasp, slightly in shock by his filthy words but they were making you so wet
“Mmm! They won’t even have to know, sweetheart. We can keep this between you and me. No, nobody has to know that you’re such a fucking slut for my cum that I’m gonna put a baby in you by the end of the honeymoon. God, can you imagine it? My pregnant wife. Your belly all round with my fucking kid. God, Mrs. Munson, you’re gonna look so hot. S’that what you want?”
“Yes, Eds…” You whine out “Wanna have your baby. Wanna be your wife. Want your big fucking cock.”
“That’s right, sweetheart. Stick that ass out for me. Thaaaat’s it…”
You do as you’re told, firmly placing your palms against the wall and arching your back for him. Eddie scoops up the back of your dress, holding it up in his fist as he uses his other hand to run his fingers up and down your clothed pussy.
“Fuck.” Eddie tsks “You’re fucking soaking. All for me. Yeah? All for your husband, baby?”
“Y-yes,” You gasp “All for you, Eddie. Please fuck me.”
“Oh sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you, don’t worry. I’m gonna please my bride. But first, before you slip that ring on my finger, I need you to get off on them. Think you can do that?”
You nod desperately as Eddie smirks, watching over your shoulder as you admire him in his tux- ready for your big day. But first, he was ready to ruin you.
Eddie hooks his fingers into your panties, tugging them down your legs as he helps you step out of them- letting them sit in a pile on the floor.
The rough pads of his fingers glide up and down your slit teasingly, causing you to gasp and arch your back into him further.
“Fuck, baby. You are a fucking vision like this.” Eddie praises “My wife bent over and dripping for me. Letting me fuck you before our wedding. Being such a good girl and letting me fill you up before our honeymoon. Fuuuck….gonna give it to you so fucking good for treating me so well, sweetheart.”
The pads of his fingers meet your needy clit as he begins to rub it in slow circles, causing you to moan as your eyes roll into the back of your head in ecstasy.
“Oh, baby…” Eddie groans “Fuck, I don’t even need to fuck you with my fingers, do I? You’re already so fucking ready for me.”
“I’m always ready for you, Eds.” You pant as he begins to slide a finger inside of you, making you feel full with just the one digit.
“That’s right, baby.” He says “That’s why I’m marrying you. Well, I mean- that’s not the only reason but-“
“Eddie, just shut up and finger me, please.” You plead, your pussy aching for more.
“Okay, angel.” He laughs, leaving forward to press a kiss to your forehead “I got you, baby, I promise. Don’t worry.”
And when Eddie makes promises, he delivers.
Your back arches even further as he slips another finger inside of you, pumping them in and out of you in a way that turns you into a moaning mess beneath him.
“Oh my god, Eddie!” You hiss “Deeper, please.”
“Okay, Mrs. Munson.” He smirks “Whatever you wish.”
He plunges his fingers back into you as far as they could go, all the way down to the thick silver rings that adorned them.
“Fuck. Should’ve taken these off.” He says but you shake your head, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as you focus on the feel of the cool metal that was almost deep enough to be inside of you.
“No, Eds. Feels good. So good.”
“Yeah?” He hums “Ready for more?”
“Please.”
Eddie begins to curl his fingers inside of you, brushing up against the perfect spot that had you gasping and desperate each time. It was his favorite part of foreplay, watching you fall apart for him on his fingers.
“Oooooh my god!” You squeak, causing Eddie to smirk as he watches you take his fingers. Right before your wedding ceremony. In a dark coat room near the back of the reception hall.
“Oh fuck! Keep doing that!” You cry out, feeling Eddie’s fingertips brush up against your sweet spot over and over again.
“Yeah? S’that where you like it, baby?” He teases, eyes glued to where you were gushing for him- the wet noises of your pussy becoming obscene inside the walls of the small room.
“Yes!” You cry out, his attack on your g-spot getting you closer and closer to your orgasm “Please, Eddie! Please, please, please!”
“You gonna cum, sweetheart? Hm?” Eddie patronizes “You gonna cum for your husband?”
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Gonna cum for you! Gonna cum so-“ you gasp “-Fucking hard!”
“That’s right, sweetheart. You’re gonna cum all over these fingers. Fuck, can’t wait to make you cum all over them every…single…fucking…day. For the rest of my goddamn life. Fuuuuck…c’mon, baby. Fuckin’ give it to me, doll!”
And that’s what throws you over, immediately hitting your high as you cry out in white hot desperation.
