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So y’all know that scene in dirty dancing when Johnny gets accused of stealing and Baby has to tell everyone that she knows he didn’t do it because he was with her all night? Yeah I’m gonna need a Eddie fic like that with cheerleader!reader.
summary || in which eddie finds a picture in the reader's locker
a/n || alright i dunno the etiquette of answering an open-ended request like this but i wrote @eddiemunsonfix's open-ended request/call to action. i read it last night and absolutely adored it; i hope i did it justice.
➵ i just hit 400?? y'all i love you guys toooo much; i'll create like a prompt list at some point this week (fingers crossed) as a little follower special. thank you guys for liking my work enough to follow me - i appreciate each and every single one of you
request || "Imagine you and Eddie haven’t been dating for very long so it’s all still very new to him but he notices you have a picture of him hanging in your locker at school and he just gets all smiley and flustered and adORABLE SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE THIS FOR ME"
warnings || fluff
"hey, good morning!" you lightly poked at his half-sleeping form, which had been slumping onto the library table the two of you were sharing. your first period had been a free one - and you were sure eddie was missing english for this, though no amount of convincing from your end had convinced him to sit through the boring lectures of mrs. o'donnell.
besides, what kind of boyfriend would he be to abandon his girl at her time of need?
"hmm?" he doesn't raise his head, but at least you know he's awake. it was, when you checked your watch 3 minutes ago, 8:47, and you knew for a fact he rarely woke up before 10:00, missing a large chunk of his morning classes. though, since he met you, he was quick to realize that that large chunk of classes were the few that you shared. since then, he'd been trudging to school early to sit through those periods with you - regardless of how tired he was.
though, you figured this was a solid arrangement for the both of you: he was waking up earlier and missing less classes, and you got his lovely company. of course, today that company was a little lackluster, considering his current, slumped state.
though, as much as you loved him, just his presence was probably his best feature during these - rather one-sided - study sessions. his input to your work always tended to come in rather long-winded book metaphors, or would branch into tangents about completely unrelated things.
you never expected that a simple question - more to yourself than anything else - about the structure of the government to lead him into a very passionate spiel about the failures of capitalism and the gory history of america, all supplemented by surprisingly good parallels that he drew from fantasy literature.
you'd listened to the whole thing, both enraptured by his intelligence and voice, and simultaneously in disbelief at the lack of his application in his english class.
unfortunately, that had come at the cost of a hurriedly written essay that evening, but you figured it was worth it.
you found your hand curl around the spine of the book you were studying, while your other one weaved its way through his hair, the black strands parting ever so slightly at the combing of your fingers, before joining once again. you had a fascination with it, constantly tying it up and the not, and you were sure that he similarly adored that fascination, finding a sense of peace settle over him whenever you played with his hair.
unfortunately, today that sense of peace came in the form of a snore emitting from the table. your eyes widened as you studied the slow, but steady rise and fall of his form, making you suppress a smile.
"good night." it was a whisper, as you went back to your book.
you guys had only been dating - should memory serve you correctly - for two months now. though, you guys had been friends for a lot longer, the both of you finding some solace in each other that wasn't really granted by anyone else at hawkins high.
you guys were different, sure, with your studious nature, mild clothing and soft smile a very direct and very visible contrast from his dark clothing and his held-back-for-two-years, outwardly scary persona.
though, you supposed that's what you liked about him. that you were the one to peel back his layers, you were the one to see his intelligence, and that you were the one to cherish his soft side. he was so unique, with a magnetic energy and a soft smile that left you feeling happy regardless of what your situation was.
similarly, he liked the sweetness of your tone, the adoration of your gaze, the way you'd do things like tie his hair up, let him sleep on your chest as you watched movies and hold his hand when you were stressed - without even realizing it. he liked to be loved, and you liked to love him - without any worry of what others thought of him.
when these feelings fester in a friendship, it doesn't take long for one - or, in this case, both, to be hopelessly enamored with the other in a way that friends really shouldn't. so, when you'd finally let it spill one night - you were absolutely mortified, sure that you'd just lost the best friend you'd ever had.
that was, until he took your worried face in his calloused hands, allowing himself to kiss you in a way he'd wished to do for so long.
since then, he'd been trying his hardest to be the model boyfriend, worried that - at some point - you would realize how huge of a mistake this was and he'd lose the best thing that ever happened to him.
everything was still so novel to the both of you, and, although you'd known each other for so long, it was hard not to feel as though you're being introduced to a new person.
eddie didn't mind - in fact, it made him ecstatic. he felt as though he got to meet you, got to know you, and got to fall in love with you all over again.
what's not to love?
the bell ringing signaled the end of your last period, as your entire class gratefully left mr. wright's painfully boring math class. you found yourself a little preoccupied with a test that he had assigned for next week, going over what content you'd have to study for it, when two hands wrapped themselves around your waist.
your squeak of shock quickly turned into a sigh of relief when you looked down to see his signature rings across the cinch of your blouse.
"god! eddie - don't-" he cuts you off with a peck to your lips, and your unable to stop your smile.
"how was mr. wrong?" it was a nickname for the math teacher after an incident two months ago, where he nearly failed everyone in the classes' tests due to an error he had made. the name had stuck, and you were just shocked it hadn't come along sooner - as it was pretty obvious.
"awful, but how would you know?" he holds his hands up - a playfully guilty look on his face. he'd gone to wright's class a grand total of 10 times the entire year, and it was something she'd lightly chastised him for several times.
her locker's being stubborn to her, and eddie's quick to step in and help her; some of these lockers truly required a brute force to open, and his attempt similarly took a few tries. finally, though, the pastel door very creakily opened, allowing her to put her books away and collect her things.
usually, eddie would find himself twiddling his thumbs off to the side, or rambling about something or the other as he waited for her to finish up. today, though, his prior action allowed him a full view of the contents of her locker. he wanted to avert his gaze - although he knew you didn't really care if he looked in your locker, he still found it a bit of an invasion of privacy.
that's exactly what he's going to do, before his eyes stop at a picture attached to one of the shelves when you could keep your books. it was hanging on the shelf, allowing anyone who opened it to have a direct view of it.
he was uncharacteristically quiet, and you'd just caught onto it.
"everything alright?" you mumble, not turning your head from the books that you were planning on taking home.
"what's that?" his response leaves his lips as soon as your question comes, and you look at where his gaze lies, right on the picture that you'd put up a few days ago.
it was really cute - a picture snapped by one of your friends - you were pretty sure it was robin - as your entire group had been hanging out one late saturday evening. robin was a vocal supporter of your guys' relationship, bordering on the edge of sounding like a mom as she fawned over just how cute the two of you are.
that had prompted her to take the picture, wherein the both of you were sprawled onto the picnic blanket you'd brought, you trying to get some semblance of tan in the hot august weather and him absolutely ruining any chance of that, his head on your chest and his hair sprawled across your body.
he had a cheeky smile on his face - like he knew exactly what he was doing - while yours had a bright one on it, your hand resting on his cheek as the sun hit your bodies just right.
usually, steve would make some joke about leaving the photography to jonathan, but even he kind of gawked in awe at her perfect timing when taking the picture. you'd swiped it off of her, unsure of where to put it so as to cherish it best.
finally, she settled on her locker, liking the fact that she could get a good look at it in between her monotonous classes - especially on the days where the pair didn't have many classes together.
she looks at eddie to see him with redder cheeks than usual, a huge smile both present on his lips and eyes.
"it was from last saturday - remember? robin took it?" he did remember, but he assumed that she'd gotten rid of it, or that it had found his way into one of those drawers or boxes where you kept all your old pictures. but, to see that she had taken it and put it in a place where she could see it everyday made him feel like a boy with a schoolyard crush again.
"yeah - uh, you kept it in your locker?" she looks at him, unsure of exactly what he's asking.
"yeah, i did... do you want me to take it out? is it too public-" she goes to grab the picture, but his hand stops her.
"no, no - i love it. you just - it's a picture of us." the last bit is a whisper, and there's a hint of pride in his voice. it makes her turn to look at him. he looks - well, giddy is the easiest way to describe it, with his eyes large and sweet and his smile stretching further along his cheeks.
"it's cute, right?" she mumbles, looking at the picture with him.
"so cute." his voice makes it sound like he's exaggerating, but he's not - he loves the way that she looks in it, and the way that they look. she notices his reaction, before also smiling widely.
"alright, let's stop by the general store before we get home." she knows he's going to ask why, so she finishes her though, "we need to buy a camera."
eddie's quick to agree to the idea, wanting to see the walls of the locker plastered in pictures like that - pictures so innately them.
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Imagine you and Eddie haven’t been dating for very long so it’s all still very new to him but he notices you have a picture of him hanging in your locker at school and he just gets all smiley and flustered and adORABLE SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE THIS FOR ME
Summary — You just might be Eddie Munson’s soulmate, whether you realize it or not.
Warnings
➳ Just a fluffy meet-cute; mentions of bars; a few curse words; Eddie being a total fanboy; sudden love confession; kissing; Upside Down doesn’t exist here because Eddie deserves to be happy.
Notes
➳ Reader uses feminine pronouns (she/her), who is described as very “girly”. They also mention having a brother.
➳ Metallica members include those who were in the band during March 1986 (James Hetfield, Kirk Hammett, Lars Ulrich, and Cliff Burton).
➳ “You’ll really go out with some guy you don’t know?” “Well, you can’t be worse than the guys I do know.”
➳ Based on this post by @eddiemunsonfix. Thank you for letting me use your idea as inspiration! I hope you like this!
If there was one thing Eddie wasn’t used to seeing in The Hideout, it was the color pink. And you were covered in it from head to toe.
You stood out among the sea of black-clad older men who regularly attended the bar’s open mic sessions. Striking his guitar, he couldn’t stop watching as you tapped along to the beat of his band’s latest cover. A few people cheered as the room echoed loudly with Metallica’s ‘Creeping Death’.
It was a normal Tuesday night for Eddie and his friends, aside from your presence, of course. As they wrapped up the song and the bar patrons let out another round of cheers, Eddie’s attention was focused solely on you.
It was almost like destiny. His friends called out for him when he left them behind to pack up their instruments so the next group could go on. He ignored them, leaning against the bar, where you sat alone.
summary You're having trouble sleeping and pot seems like the only solution. Good thing your dealer, Eddie Munson, knows of another method that he's willing to to teach you. You get more than you bargained for when he tells you what he gets off to every night - you. [8.8k]
warnings 18+ only smut, fem!reader, eddie teaches you how to masturbate, p in v sex, light praise kink, mutual pining/lusting, lots of kissing, dirty talk, weed ment, aftercare, they are not so secretly infatuated with one another, eddie is a soft dork but also dirty <3 r implied as dressing very femininely
𓆩❤︎𓆪
Eddie kneels outside his trailer.
You stop at the lip of the grass and wonder what he's doing. His back is to you, covered by a band shirt familiar even from this angle and riddled with rips and moth holes. You're about to call out to him when he speaks.
"You're hot, huh, sweetheart?" Softer than you've ever heard him. "Why don't you go inside? Escape the heat, yeah?"
You approach slowly, footfall smothered by the lush green underfoot. He's scratching behind the ears of a tabby cat.
"It's so hot out! The sun's gonna cook you," he says, whisper-shouting.
Like the tabby can understand what he's saying it stands, stretches tall and then slinks off into the trailer. "Good girl," Eddie says, standing up.
"Are you collecting strays?" you ask lightly.
He turns to you, surprised but not scared. "Don't worry, you're still my favourite."
Good girl. His words ring loud between both ears. "I'm not a stray."
"Uh-huh. What's my shy girl want today?" You spin on your heel and Eddie starts laughing. "Sorry, I'm sorry! Come on, you'll like what I have!"
"You know I can't talk to you when you get like this," you tell him, pouting from over your shoulder.
He pushes a mess of black curls behind his ear and beckons you forward. "Come on," he says, sing-song. "Let daddy set you up."
"Jesus Christ," you mutter, following Eddie into his house unhappily.
You hate when he gets in this mood, not because he's ever really made you uncomfortable, but because you like to be teased, and he knows it. Or he likes watching you squirm. Either way, it's dangerous territory.
"How much did you want?" he asks.
The cool inside of his trailer is a blessing. You hold your naked arms away from your skin and try to take a deep breath of cool air. "I have thirty dollars. So… however much that is."
"Babe, what the fuck do you want so much for?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder at you incredulously.
You follow him into his room. "Do you not have it?" you ask, tracing posters you've seen upwards of ten times by now. Eddie's a good dealer – reliable, sweet, and prone to freebies without any pervy requests in place.
He once swapped you an eighth for a cheap charm bracelet. He wears it now, the silver delicate and entirely too sweet for his metalhead appearance. It looks good on him, anyhow.
He pulls open the usual lunchbox you hadn't noticed sitting on one of his amps and pulls out more pot than you've ever seen at one time. "Don't I?"
"Woah."
"Uh-huh. Ern't she preddy?" he asks in a drawing southern accent.
You hold out your hands and he lets you take it. When you open the zip lock bag, the smell isn't awful. The buds are thick with green fuzz, and your eyes water.
You pass it back to him. "How much can I have for thirty?"
"For you? Half."
"Don't do that, Eddie. Gimme what you'd give anyone else."
"But you're not anyone else, babe. You're my favourite customer."
"I'm gonna put you out of business," you say, lightly chiding. "Can I sit down?"
He hums and nods and you sit cross legged at the top of his bed. His bed sheets are pushed away and the space is cold. His pillow under your hand is colder.
Eddie doesn't bother weighing it. You roll your eyes at him but also feel amazingly happy, because it's a lot of pot for not a lot of money, because his favouritism speaks for what you hope might be a small crush. Still, when he passes you the new bag you feel guilty.
"Eddie, I can't take that. I know that's more than thirty."
His eyebrows jump. "I don't care. What's the point in doing this if I can't give pretty girls a little something extra?"
"I don't know. To make money?"
He holds out the bag. You don't take it. "Fine," he says, sighing.
"Thank you." You watch him fish three or four bigger buds out of the bag. He presents you with a much more reasonable amount, his hands stained with the smell. "Thank you," you say again.
"Yeah. Wanna stay and watch a movie?"
You've known Eddie since middle school. Classmates, not really friends, not not friends, though ever since you've started buying a small kinship has blossomed between you.
"What movie?"
"Whatever you want."
You nibble the inside of your lip. "You'll roll up for me?"
"Sure will."
So you end up on Eddie's couch with the tabby cat that isn't his purring heavily on your lap as he rolls a couple of joints for you. You won't smoke anything until tonight so Eddie drops them into your newly acquired ziplock bag with papers and the leftover bud.
He sniffs. "So, you're not sleeping?" he asks knowingly, straightening out with a groan and disappearing out of view into the kitchenette. You're a total overthinker. Pot helps you calm down.
"I'm sleeping."
"After toking up."
"There's…" You scratch the vibrating cat behind its ears, frowning to yourself. "Worse things to do."
"Better ones, though. Hey, do you want a drink?"
You say no and he brings you a glass of water anyways. His hands smell strongly of hand soap and faintly of weed as he passes it to you. You take it carefully, wary of disturbing your cuddle partner.
"Like what?" you ask.
"Cranking one out, for starters."
You wince, afraid to bring the lip of the glass to your mouth in case you choke on it. "Anything else?"
"Running?" Eddie suggests, sitting with you but leaving a more than comfortable gap between your legs.
"Not my thing," you murmur.
It's weird, but anything above murmuring feels like shouting in the calm of his home. The movie plays on the TV and the cat purs, Eddie spreads his legs out and slouches into the cushions, his face surrounded by dark hair. He smiles at you like he always does, amicable if slightly flirty.
"Maybe pot is your only option," he says mournfully. He pulls a lock of hair in front of his face and his eyebrows pinch together. "Make sure you brush your teeth after though. Or you'll get bad teeth."
"Bad teeth?"
"Smoking ruins your pearls."
You put down your glass of water and weave your fingers into the cat's rough fur. Eddie is really nice. Really really nice. And he probably likes you, so… what's the worst that could happen, by asking?
I'm only asking, you decide.
"Eddie," you say softly, disrupting a big tobacco rant that he'd started. "What- when you say cranking one out, that's-"
"You know." He holds his hand above his crotch and squeezes the air. You feel a terrible heat start to collect in your abdomen. "Five to one? Uh- Nulling the void?" He grasps for words at your lost expression. "Making soup?"
His voice goes high. You think he's as embarrassed as you are, and you're not gonna ask again. You giggle. "Oh, right."
He drops his hand heavy against the seat of his pants and leans back. "Crank one out and sleep like a log."
"That works for you?" you ask tentatively.
"Every night."
You sink down into the couch and hide your face in cat fur. Eddie starts asking about how your job is, a genuine, earnest interest that further cements your next decision. You clear your throat.
"Eddie, can I ask you something?" He grins and waves his hand. "When you," you wince, "'make soup', do you just- how do you…" You slink down so far you're almost falling off of the couch. "How do you make yourself-" You gesture to your pelvis and then screw your hand into a fist, self-conscious.
He blinks. "Finish?"
You look at the chain around his neck rather than his face. "Yeah."
"Are you asking me because you want to know how I do it, or because you don't know how to do it to yourself?"
You rub your cheek with your shoulder. "The second option."
"Shit," he mutters.
"Sorry, you don't have to- I just thought-"
Eddie sits up. He looks more serious than he had before but not any less patient, elbows braced on his knees and head propped up in his hand. He parts his fingers over his lips.
"You don't know how?" he asks.
"I must've missed that lesson in sex ed," you try to joke. It comes out awkward. Eddie laughs anyways, a huff of breath.
"Lucky you, I've sat through sex ed three times." He grins brilliantly, but his joking tone softens when he sees your hesitant expression. "If you wanna know, I'm happy to tell you."
"Are you sure?"
"We're friends, right? What are friends for?" You don't miss the sarcastic twist to his words or his ironic smile.
Friends like you and Eddie likely aren't meant to be giving one another lessons on masturbation. But really, he's the only person you know who you could ask and wouldn't feel totally looked down on. Eddie's nice to his core, but better – he doesn't judge.
You struggle to know what to ask.
The cat chooses this moment to wake and jump off of you, strutting out of the trailer's open door and back into the sunlight without so much as a grateful look back.
And now you're alone with him.
"How's your anatomy?" he asks. You shake your head slowly. "You know, grade wise? Are we passing? B? B-? C?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Munson."
"Do you know what's what?" he asks concisely.
You sit up and press your knees together, suddenly very aware of your 'anatomy'. "I think so."
He purses his lips for a few seconds before shrugging. "Alright. We can work with that." Eddie pushes his cheek into the couch and looks at your face unflinching as he says, "You know what your clit is?"
You cringe. Full body.
Eddie shrugs. "What? That's what it's called. You don't have to be embarrassed about it."
"I know what it is."
"And you can't make yourself-"
"No."
He doesn't miss your frustration. "Hey, hey, it's fine. Some people think that it's, like, a magic on-button, but it's not. There's a whole process."
"How do you know?" you ask genuinely.
His answering smile is wolfish. "I'm in a band, babe. Fucking a guitarist is like, a bucket list thing or some shit. Girls will tell you exactly what they want if you're willing to listen."
Something about his knowing look has your heart skipping a beat. Maybe two. He pushes his hand across the couch and you're not sure if it's on purpose or accident, only that he's leaning in, a small smile on his face.
"And I'm a damn good listener."
You meet his eyes and know what he's offering. He waits, ring heavy fingers splayed wide in the space between you. It's the sight of them – thick, long and adorned in string-wrought calluses – that tips you over the edge.
He's already pulling back with a reassuring smile on his face, lips parted to likely say something too nice when you interrupt him.
"Will you teach me?" you ask quietly.
A split-second of surprise is quickly overtaken by enthusiasm. "You're not high, are you?"
"No."
He gets up to close the door and starts for his room. You linger on the couch uselessly and he doubles back, hand on the wall. "Are you coming?"
The noise from the TV fades as you walk down the hall and into his room. Your socked foot nudges into a tower of books close to the door and you reach out to steady them. Eddie pulls the sheets back into place and flicks on the lamp. He pauses by the stereo before turning that on, too.
A song you don't recognise starts to play. Eddie climbs up onto his bed and stands there for a second, suddenly very tall. "You wanna take off your jacket?"
"It's a cardigan." You peel the thin white cotton off of your shoulders and shift from foot to foot, unsure of yourself.
Eddie settles on his knees, pulls off his rings. "It's pretty. Come here," he says, holding out his arms.
You slide onto the bed cautiously, naked calves rubbing against the sheets. You feel as though every sense has been dialled to eleven; you're thinking about every brush of fabric, every small sound that they make.
Eddie takes one of your hands and you sit with one leg crossed and the other hanging off the edge of the bed, surprised at his soft touch. He soothes your hand and brings it to his lap, eyes on your now-bared shoulders.
"You dress real pretty." He says it with his usual dramatics, though there's enough sincerity there to make you smile.
You look down at your delicate clothes thoughtfully. "You think so?"
"Mh-hm. It suits you," he says as he drums his thumbs against the back of your hand.
He pushes one palm up the length of your arm and pulls it towards him at the same time. You've never been touched like this before and you want it bad, shuffling towards him with a shameful speed. He takes it in stride, hand bumping up the hill of your shoulder. His index finger slides under the skinny strap of your top and tugs at it playfully.
"You look sweet. Really sweet," he says, his voice more hushed than before. His eyes drop to your thighs. "You'll have to take those off, though."
"My shirt too?" you ask weakly, eyebrows pinched up at the starts.
"Not if you don't want to." You hesitate. He takes your thigh into a big hand and gives you a small shake. "It's okay. Take your time. Or, if you changed your mind, that's totally cool."
"No, I haven't," you deny, voice trembling with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. You kick your legs out in front of you one at a time and ease your shorts over the slopes of your thighs and calves, pushing them off of his bed with your feet.
“If you change your mind at any point-“
“I’ll tell you,” you say, nodding as you pull your knees together.
Eddie manoeuvres so he’s close, twisted toward you with his hand braced by your thigh. The cold metal of the charm bracelet you'd swapped him bites into your skin. If you leaned back and he leaned forward, he could kiss you. You think maybe he has the same idea as his eyes dart to your lips.
They linger.
He blinks and it’s gone.
“I’m gonna rub your leg,” he says quietly, “and when I get to the inside, I’m gonna touch you. Okay?”
As he says it, his hand moves onto your thigh. Down to your knee.
Slowly, so slowly, back up. His fingers caress the inside of your thigh. He pauses.
“‘Kay,” you whisper.
His fingers flex over your flesh as he draws in. Then, like a shock, his fingertips press to your underwear.
“I’m not surprised,” he says steadily, fingers brushing over your cunt, ghosting but never truly touching where you want him to.
“By what?”
“That you wear such cute panties.” He strokes the hem with the tip of his finger and you hold your breath as he slides it under the elastic, running the fabric over his digit gently. “S’exactly the kind of thing I pictured you wearing.”
“You’ve pictured them?”
He looks up from his teasing and your panties snap into place. You gasp on instinct and his eyes narrow, his lashes kissing in the corners. “Does that bother you?” he murmurs.
You shake your head. His lips quirk up, a smugness that makes your heart race ever faster.
"Do you do anything like this with yourself?" he asks.
"I'm never this nice."
"That's a crime," he says, and he laughs loud, momentarily shattering the distilled atmosphere that had settled over you both. "Thighs like these and you don't touch them?"
"Is that what you do?" you ask, insecure.
"No, but it's different. I don't need to get warmed up like you do."
"Warmed up?" you whisper. Having to ask these questions feels so embarrassing.
Eddie being so soft about it makes it easier. "Relaxed," he whispers in turn, laughing towards the end.
His thumb rubs the elastic of your underwear and drifts slowly inward until he's pushing over your folds. You gasp and it's slightly startled, sounding too close to panic for Eddie, who's hand flinches away.
"Didn't like that?" he asks.
You rush, "It's okay. Surprised."
One big hand holds your thigh, the other strokes your cunt. He's a little firmer now, pushing the breadth of his thumb over your panties until he touches something very sensitive. "Here?" He pushes up a little higher and your breath catches. He makes an almost inaudible cooing sound and flattens his hand, rubbing the length of your cunt without finesse. It feels good anyway. It surprises you how much you like it.
He pinches your panties.
"Ready to take them off?" he asks.
"Yeah."
You lift your hips and peel your underwear down, folding your legs to pull them off of your ankles. You clutch them in your hand, unsure.
Eddie sits back and pulls you towards him. You let him manhandle you with a small gasp, his hands pressing into the soft of your tummy. You can't see his face anymore.
"Alright," he murmurs, pulling your thigh over his lap and spreading you wide. His voice is loud in your ear because of his proximity, and you resist the temptation to turn your face to his.
"Let's just-" he works your underwear out of your hand and tosses them aside.
His hand lands on your knee and moves down fast.
You lean back heavily into his chest with your hands pulled to your sternum.
"Eddie," you say, "what do I do?"
He hums. "Touch yourself."
You seize up and he's quick to soothe, fingers closing around the crook of your elbow.
"Hey, I'm gonna show you. I'm gonna show you," he repeats. He pulls at the lip of your cunt and spreads you open, groaning softly. You wouldn't hear it if his lips weren't so close to your face. "How'd you have a cunt this sweet and never touch it? I mean, fuck."
His fingertips whisper past your pubic hair like he's going to say something more, but he only asks, "Hand?"
You put your hand into his, the back to his palm.
He sets it to your thigh. "Do what I did before, okay? Slowly…" He drags your hand up and down the length of your thigh.
Your heart is racing. Every time you crawl close to your cunt the burning longing to be touched, to touch yourself, and to have him touch you intensifies.
Eventually he pulls your hand to your clit. "You're so sensitive. Is it always this bad?" he asks sympathetically when you jump, tickled at the feelin.
"I haven't tried in a while."
"Oh, I see." Eddie encourages you to push your fingertip into the squishy bead, drawing slow circles. "Poor baby. Just desperate to have someone take care of you." His voice is so low, so ridiculously soft, you find yourself sinking into his hold. He squeezes the crook of your elbow with one hand, the other still guiding your ministrations. You bite your lip at the sensation that's begun, the tiny spark of pleasure.
"Here, let me-" He lifts your hand away from your clit and you whine involuntarily. "Shh, sweetheart, I'm only gonna give you something to work with."
You turn your head to him and watch as his mouth opens. He sucks the very tip of your finger between his lips, the heat of his tongue a momentary flash. When he pulls it back, your finger shines with his spit.
Your eyes are half-lidded, watching through the crush of your lashes as he presses it back to your clit. "How's that? S'that better?" he asks, crooning. His tone sports an underlying mockery, a light-hearted teasing that's slowly turning intense.
It is better. It's different. Your fingertip searches for purchase against the slick skin and struggles to find it, the wetness allowing for freer, faster movement.
You push a second finger against the first.
Eddie stops helping. You pause, confused.
"No, you got it, sweetheart. You keep going," he reassures, grabbing a hold of your thigh again. He teases the dough there, never cruel but maybe close, fat moulding under his fingers as he squeezes.
Your breathing builds with pleasure. Still, it's hot enough; there's no sign of an oncoming climax, no tightening coil in your tummy. You huff with exertion and frustration. "Eddie, it's not working."
"I'm not done." He sounds almost stern. Your stomach flips. "You have to think about what you want."
"What I want?"
"What turns you on."
You think of his hands and their rings. His happy trail.
His voice. Good girl.
You slam your eyes shut.
Eddie gives you another mean squeeze. "What do you think about, when you-"
You don't let him finish. "What do you think about?" you ask, too loud.
He stills. His nose pushes into your shoulder, his hair tickling your skin as he asks, "Are you sure you wanna know?"
Your breath catches. Your fingers stutter where they work into your clit and Eddie starts you right back up again. His lips brush your shoulder.
"Yes," you say, gasping as pleasure like little shocks of heat shoot to your core.
The hand at your elbow starts to rove, tickling your arm as he strokes downwards. "You first," he murmurs, teasing your wrist. You swear you can feel his smile against your shoulder.
You breathe in through your nose. "Uh, I think of- of somebody…" You try, but you just can't say it.
Eddie's fingers push down your crease. Stop right before your entrance. "Is this okay?"
"Yeah."
"Mmm…" He circles your entrance. "Now what does a pretty girl like you think of when she's touching herself?" You don't think he wants an answer. His middle finger brushes across the slick well and pushes in. You squirm and he holds you in place.
There's something very hard digging into your spine.
"Something sweet as you… Let me guess. Boy next door comes around to mow the lawn, you invite him in for a drink, one thing comes to another-" He pushes his finger in deeper. "And he's fucking you.
"That sound about right?"
You shake your head. His own perks up where it rests on your shoulder. "No? Huh."
Your circles have grown slow and staggered, distracted by his touch as he eases his ring finger in beside his middle. "Something more romantic? Wedding night, love of your life. Guy that's gonna treat you like a diamond. Way a girl like you deserves." He pushes in, stretches them out. You moan as he curls them, as his arm works back and forth. "Gives it to you gentle." His movements slow to match.
And sure, that sounds nice. But it's not what you think about.
"No," you manage to get out through shallow breaths.
"No? You don't want it gentle?"
"Not- not all the time."
"How about right now?"
"Please."
Slowly, slowly, the shape of Eddie's hard cock against your back starts to move in time with the thrusts of his hand. He pushes in deep, fingers searching emphatically for the sweet spot, the thing that's gonna make you-
"Fuck," you whimper.
His cock jumps. You feel it.
"You keep rubbing that pretty little clit of yours, sweetheart."
You do as he asks. You're desperate enough now that you imagine you'd do most anything he says, your climax a tangible, physical possibility. Your tummy feels heavy and aching with want, worse when he probes deeply and marks your sweet spot again. His lips press to your shoulder, soft enough that you worry you're imagining it.
"You see what I'm doing here? See what fingers I'm using?" he asks. You open your eyes reluctantly. His wrist turns. You watch his fingers sink into the gummy heat of your cunt. "Tight little hole's just pulling me in, fucking clinging to me, baby, she's greedy."
You gasp, a hiccup of scandalised sound.
"Want you to try, okay? You gonna do that for me?"
"Yeah, Eddie."
"Good girl." You moan, you don't mean to, but he's fucking into your quick and your finger pushes into your clit roughly. Eddie revels in it. "You like that? You like being called a good girl? I fucking knew it."
You frown and start to turn to him. He presses his cheek to your head so you can't, stuck looking down the length of the bed at your trembling legs.
"You looked so flustered, standing all sweet and quiet by the van out front with your thighs squeezed together. You think I didn't see that shit?"
You're limp against him, thighs spread wide as you work into your clit, chasing this new feeling. You can hardly breathe, every exhale a keening moan that has you shame-faced and weepy. You roll your hips to meet his fingers, his hand slapping against your cunt with a slick slap.
"You looked so sweet. Y'always do." He turns his lips to your ear and curls into you until your squealing. "Guess looks can be deceiving."
You're so close, so close. Tendrils of heat curl heavily at your core. "Eddie, I'm- I'm-"
"You wanna cum?"
"Yes," you pant.
He pulls his fingers from your cunt and you're so confused that you stop, your climax slipping away in seconds.
"Sorry, but you have to do it yourself. This is all pointless if you can't get there on your own," he says.
Your chest heaves. "That's mean. You're mean."
"I never claimed otherwise. Here, middle and marriage, babe." He guides your hand to your entrance. You push your fingers inside, your tongue between your lips in concentration. Your fingers aren't as thick as his, they don't feel quite the same, but Eddie pushes your thumb into your clit. "Move your wrist. Feel that? Feel how soft you are? How fucking warm you are?"
You're not nearly as good as he was but every clumsy touch feels electric. You push your thumb into sweeping circles and pant your frustration aloud, feeling close to tears.
"You wanna know what I think about, when I jerk off?" he asks unexpectedly.
You nod, your head moving back into his collar. He rubs the lengths of your arms leisurely, his lazy demeanour in total juxtaposition to your desperation.
"There's this girl that comes to see me," he starts, coloured by a smug amusement. "Sweet thing, soft-spoken, always wearing these pretty clothes looking like something straight out of the movies.
"I think about a lot of things. Her thighs-" One of his hands falls to your thigh in time, massaging, "fuck, just wanna bury my face in them and never come out. Pull down those cotton shorts she's so partial to with the dainty stitching and-" He laughs and his lips part over your shoulder. His teeth scratch up, up, up. "Make her fucking cry my name. Feel those thighs tense up around me."
You're so close your entire body shudders. You slow without meaning to, holding your breath in wait for Eddie to finish his story
He gives you one final push. "Always wondered if she sounds as pretty as she looks when she cums." He kisses the small graze he'd given you mere seconds ago and everything is blue-white with heat. "Gonna clue me in, sweetheart? Gonna cum for me?"
Your eyes close hard and you breathe out, an exhale ragged and weak and mewling. You don't moan so much as sob without tears, tensing up in Eddie's arms as bliss blooms. You pull your hand from your sopping cunt and feel your walls contract around nothing as you cum.
He pulls you close, throbbing cock pressing hard into your back. "Fuck," he hisses, hands placating where they lay.
You go lax, head tipping back as you suck in air that had felt elusive moments ago.
Eddie rubs your arms without saying anything. You cover his hands and try to summon up words.
"Just as pretty as you look," he murmurs.
He's so fuckng nice. So fucking nice, and what? He thinks about you when he jacks off? Since when?
You sit up and drop your chin to your chest, panting still.
"You okay?"
After a few seconds you smile and turn to him, intent on saying, Yes, thank you, and maybe something with more gratitude, something silly, just something. But you can't speak.
His face is close.
Eddie brings a hand to the slope of your rising shoulder, follows a line to the curve of your neck. You look to his eyes and find him staring at your lips unabashedly.
He pulls you into him. You close your eyes.
Eddie Munson tastes like lots of things as he kisses you.
Cigarettes, unavoidable. Under that, sugar. Something sweet but heavy as bourbon vanilla. Your lips part and close in tandem with his, slow and hungry. Your heart races and your fingers are still wet as you twist in his arms and take his face into your hands.
You climb up onto your knees and Eddie doesn't know what to do with you.
He smiles so hard he has to pull away. Not smirking, smiling, a cheek-aching, too-happy smile that softens everything in your chest.
You rub a shaking thumb over his cheek. You don't know if it's because of the post-orgasm rush of hormones or because he just kissed you and now he's smiling like he might do it again.
He does. He kisses you and grabs your waist. His fingers mess with the hem of your shirt and he breaks the kiss short to say, "Take it off?"
You sit back on your knees, feel the mess of wet between your legs spread as you grab at the edge of your shirt and pull it up. Eddie helps though he doesn't need to, and just like that you're shirtless.
"Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening," he says, voice weak in what you suspect is one of his dramatics.
He slides his hands up your sides and stops just below your breasts. His thumbs grace the undersides and his brow puckers. "Fuck," he mouths appreciatively.
You flush head to toe. "Yours, too?" you ask gently.
Eddie reaches back to pull off his shirt. His hair's in total disarray and he runs his hands through it, biceps flexing with the movement, torso taut. The black ink of his tattoos move with him and your eyes eat up every single one.
He catches your eyes where they linger on the volley of bats. "You like that one?"
"I've always liked that one."
He grins and it's honey thick, hands at the small of your back and tugging. You spread your knees wide on impulse and find yourself flush to his chest, his arms locking you into place as he dives in for another kiss. Again you're surprised at how deeply he kisses you, how it ebbs and flows from slow to fast like he's both savouring and gorging himself on your closeness.
You've never been kissed like this. You're weightless. You feel every contiguity between you, the hot and wet of his mouth, the crook of his elbow against the nape of your neck, your nipples peaked against his chest and the length of his dick pushing up into your aching cunt.
"Fucking pretty," he says, pulling back just enough to kiss the corner of your mouth, your chin. He kisses your jaw over and over and over, lips pulling into crescents and then the same word. Pretty.
His mouth opens wide at your throat, teeth scratching lightly as it closes. He sucks your skin between his lips and rolls it, hand spreading wide and palm flat at your shoulder blade. Steadying. .
"That's cute," he says when he pulls away, lips shining.
"What?" you ask, hand drifting up. You poke at the quick-forming contusion.
He nudges it aside with his face as he moves in to further mark up your neck. "You're so fucking pretty," he says, each word separated by a nipping kiss.
His hands are everywhere.
Everything is warm and you can't breathe. You plant your hands at his shoulders and push away from him, and he stops you from falling flat on your back, levelling you with a worried glance.
"Is it too much?" he asks.
"No, I'm just hot. Really hot." You take a big breath and wipe your face with the back of both hands.
"That's true," he says, leaning back against the wall. His hands fall to your thighs. "Are you okay?"
You drop your hands abruptly and can't believe the fondness you're feeling. "You're pretty, too," you tell him. Honest if very shy; meek, entirely sincere. "I'm okay. I want…"
"You want?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
"I have this fantasy," you begin.
Eddie widens your legs to move from under them. It doesn't surprise you when he comes to lie on your chest, holding his weight off of you with an arm at the side of your ribs. His hair falls and hides the room from view. All you can see is his face, and it's beautiful.
"Tell me about it."
"It's- okay. It's…" You drift off as he dips down to kiss your collar, only chaste pecks but enough to distract you. "It's kind of like this."
"Yeah?" His breath warms your chest. More ditzy kisses.
"I get here and you're coming out of the shower-"
"Tasteful."
"With a towel low on your hips," you add pointedly. It's useless, his sarcasm has pinned you spot on. "And you- you touch me."
Eddie kitten licks the skin he's just nibbled and looks up. "Like this?"
"Like this."
"And after that," his hand moves between you to the zipper of his jeans, the sound of metal clicking metal ringing through the room, "what do I do?"
"You push me down into the bed, and-" You feel the fabric of his jeans rub your thighs as he pulls them down. "You…"
"What do I do, sweetheart?"
"You push my legs up and you fuck me," you confess.
He scrambles back towards his nightstand, a hand on your ankle that says, I'm not going far. "How do I fuck you? Am I rough?"
"Not at first."
There, in his hands, the red plastic of a condom wrapper, bright as a maraschino cherry. He holds it up and you nod.
"Not at first," he murmurs, ripping open the condom, hissing as he pulls it over his weeping cock. It's big – not too thick, but big, surrounded by a thatch of dark curls trimmed neat. "But eventually?"
He rolls it on tight and then there's nothing but this admission of your guiltiest fantasy. You spread your legs without thinking and he pulls you towards him, thumb collecting slick where it's pooled and pushing it up towards your entrance. What's left on his fingers he smears over the length of his shaft. You watch him rub at the head and sigh.
"Eventually," you agree.
His cock rubs up against you as he leans down and pinches your chin between his fingers, lips parted from a sharp gasp and opening further. "Can I fuck you? Is that what you want?"
You nod voraciously.
He gives you a very firm kiss at the highest point of your cheek. "In words."
"Yes, you can fuck me. That's what I want," you say without hesitation.
"You tell me if I do something you don't like," he says, lining up.
"I will," you say earnestly.
Eddie pushes your leg up towards your tummy and holds it there. "Good girl," he praises, and pushes in.
You're already worked open by his hand, your own hand and your climax, and still it's a snug fit. You cross your arm over your chest with your lips bitten hard to stop from making what you anticipate to be a very great and mortifying sound. He takes it slow, real slow, towering over you with his brows furrowed just slightly and his back arching. Every move he makes is accompanied by a careful thrust of his hips. He's rhythm in motion.
"Fuck," he mutters, more than once. He's halfway when you feel that stretch, your pulpy walls accommodating him with little complaint and a lot of pleasure.
You drop your head back against the bed sheets and hug yourself.
Eddie reaches for your hand where its cracking your breast absentmindedly and squeezes your fingers. "How's that?" he asks. "How's that feel?"
You close your eyes. "S'good, Eddie." You lay out your own roll of expletives as he pushes in ever deeper. "You're really- oh," you gasp, "really deep."
"You should see it, babe, pretty pussy gripping my every fucking inch." He leans down and his cock fills another inch of you. Your fingers ache with how hard he's squeezing them, and you look up to find his eyes on yours. "I'm gonna fill you up, okay? You gonna be a good girl for me and take it?"
You blink and your lashes feel heavy with tears. "Yeah. I can take it. I can take it."
"I know," he says, hovering over you, close enough to hug if you wanted to.
He grabs your side and his thumb pushes into the soft swell of your breast, his grip tightening as he fits those last inches of his cock inside you. You rub your cheek against his bedsheets, your head fuzzy from being so full. He takes your bared neck as an opportunity and ducks into the juncture of it and his face fits there like it was made to, his nose bobbing against the column of your throat as he starts to fuck into you. His hips roll, a mess of his sticky pubes kissing your clit.
This close you can smell him, the heavy scents of pot and smoke, the sweet nutty smell of oil clinging to his hair. Sweat, as you imagine you smell of too, and sex. The room is filled with it, the smells and the sounds of his thighs thudding into yours.
"Eddie- Eddie," you whimper, muffled by the sheets beneath you.
He pushes in deep and rubs his nose into your skin emphatically. "What's wrong, hm? What's got you all wound up?"
You wrap your arms around his back. You're not sure if you're allowed to but you're hardly thinking ahead – you can't. Every thrust, every movement he makes is at the forefront of your mind, commanding all of your attention. The tickling of his hair against the side of your face. The skipping of the chains of his necklace where it teases your neck.
"Babe?" he asks, pulling back to turn your head. He stills inside you.
You protest, loud and completely unlike yourself. "Eddie, don't stop. Please don't." Your hands push into his shoulder blades. He ruts in at your request, thumb rubbing your cheek. "Feels so good," you say. You trip over your praise, voice breaking.
He starts up again, whispering, "Do you want me to hold your leg up, pretty girl?" and, "Taking me so well- taking it so fucking well," and, worse, "Fuck, sweetheart, just like that," when you tigthen around him.
You weave your fingers into the messy crush of black curls surrounding his face, careful not to tug as you covet the back of his head and nape of his neck, scratching his scalp lightly with one hand as the other strokes his side.
Your moans become a half-sobbing sort of mess, quiet and desperate, drawn out of you with every tap of his cock into your soft spot. When he finds it he can't not search for it, rutting into it over and over until you can't produce anything but an unintelligible stream of babble and happy sighs.
He laps lazily at your neck, the stretch of skin dampened and stinging from love bites. He thrusts in hard and hits something sweet that has you clinging to him.
"You smell good," he says into your skin.
Your hips ache with pleasure. "I must taste pretty good," you say. What, with how he's willing to nibble on you like this.
He squeezes your neck and narrows his eyes at you playfully. "I intend to find out." He moves down until your lips are a hair's width from touching. "Bet you taste as sweet as everything else."
You lift your chin and kiss him, dedicating your affections to his top lip. He groans into your mouth, hips moving slow and thrusts shallow when suddenly they're not. His cock drags out slowly and slams in deep, his pelvis hitting into yours.
You keen into the kiss, gentle and at odds with his fucking. His fingers find your ear and his thumb follows down the shell until he's pinching your earlobe, a split-second touch that melts you into putty. He pulls away from the kiss and inhales loudly, his fingers under your ear and pushing your face to the side so that he can wade in from a new angle.
You curl your fingers around his wrist and let yourself be kissed and fucked and touched. Anything he wants to do, he can do.
Eddie breaks the kiss.
"What did I taste like?" you ask breathlessly.
He traces an invisible teardrop down your cheek with the back of his pinky finger. "Oh, sweetheart," he says quietly, lowering his lips to the shell of your ear. "That's not where I meant."
Another hard thrust. You gasp at the dull aching spreading through your tummy and Eddie softens slightly, not so deep but just as fast, faster, his cheek to your cheek as he works you open. His rugged panting in your ear is everything you need. You force your hand between your body and Eddie's and search for the wet mess of your clit, chasing quick circles into the swollen bump.
Eddie realises what's happening and his fucking turns desperate. "You gonna cum again? Shit- keep touching, I'll get you there, fucking promise you." He's hardly pulling out an inch before he's rutting back in, kicking up the speed until all you can feel is pleasure again.
Eddie slows down as you cum, moaning as you tighten around him. He pushes away from you to kneel between your legs again, eyes locking onto your cunt obstinately, his panting loud as he drags his cock in and out.
"Insane," he mumbles, hands coasting down your legs until he's grasping the fat of your thighs and pulling you back onto his cock. "You're insane."
As if proving it, his hands rove the hills and troughs of your torso, your skin clammy underhand, his hips moving mindlessly. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand and blink back into focus.
"Are you close?" you ask him, whispering.
You're lucky he can hear you with the music he's playing and the sounds of your slick hole being stretched. Eddie tucks a lock of sweat-dark hair behind his ear and his eyes pause in their reverential searching to meet yours.
He peels your hand off of your mouth and holds it.
"Fucking teetering, babe. Been close ever since I felt you wrapped around my fingers." He pulls your hand and you take it as a cue to try and sit up. Eddie helps you into his lap, your thighs straddling his thighs, slipping down his length until you're stuffed to bursting.
You hide your face in his shoulder and he rubs your back. "You're okay," he says sympathetically, "I got you. You just sit pretty, there's a good girl."
You wrap your arms around his neck and try your best to bounce on his cock as he thrust up into you, a steady pace that turns sloppy. You rake your hands through his curls and kiss at the curve of his neck down to the slope of his shoulder, dizzied and cock-drunk, totally fucked out. You hum into your kisses with every prodding of his mushroom tip against your deepest spot, rambling nonsense at him in a way you hope is making a difference.
"Fucking me so good," you mumble, equal parts tearful and euphoric, lips wet and spreading a shine like frost in the sun over his lean shoulder. "So good, Eddie. Thought about this too much."
"Yeah?" he asks, sounding like a different person. Voice rough as hewn stone and hands bruising where they grip you, his heavy sack slapping into you with every sluggish rock of his hips. "Good as you pictured? M'I fucking you like you wanted?"
"Better," you say sincerely.
"Fuck, sweetheart," he says, and he's close, you know he is.
You roll your pelvis in circles and try your hardest, aflame as you plead, "Cum for me, please? Please, Eddie, wanna feel it."
Despite your shy intonation Eddie goes rigid. He fucks in with one final thrust that sends shocks deep to your core and spreading out, cutting your happy little gasp short as he pulls your head tight to his neck. His hips twitch underneath you and he's making sounds that are going to haunt you, whiney, begging moans over your head.
Eddie's tight hold on you slowly loosens. You're breathing fast, finally out of motion. Your thighs burn where they're spread over his lap and you squirm unintentionally.
He pulls your neck back from his shoulder and looks over your face, concern lining the soft set of his eyes. He cups your cheek in question.
"I'm okay," you say softly. "I'm more than okay. That was amazing."
"It was amazing," he agrees, caught off guard.
"Yeah."
You shift backwards and the two of you wince at the sensitivity. You ease your legs open and Eddie pulls out, pumping the sticky shaft once. His eyes flutter closed.
You move off of his lap and turn to the side so you can stretch out your aching legs. Eddie follows suit, collapsing off of his knees and onto his back, the pillow behind him keeping him propped up.
You watch him ease the condom off of his cock curiously, White cum has smeared and drips down the length of him, his pubes tangled by a mixture of your slick and his.
He spots you watching and smiles. "What, sweetness? What are you thinking about?"
"I made you cum."
His eyebrows jump but quickly smooth. "I think I went blind, for a second."
You giggle at his hyperbole and he pulls you down against his chest, your side pressing into his navel. Your cheek to the space shy of his heart.
His hand comes to rest on your forehead.
"Do you really think about me?" you ask, knowing the answer.
"Every night."
You close your eyes and hide your smile in his skin. He chuckles and wraps you up in one arm, his hand a firm pressure as he massage the dipped plane of your back.
Nestling your cheek into his chest, you say, "I think about it, too. All the time."
"Uh-huh. Maybe we can make some more of those racy thoughts a reality. What was that one about me coming out of the shower?"
You like this casual conversation and decide to try and make him laugh, stretching your words out low. "Well, you're coming out of the shower, and your towel slips open-" There, his bumping laughter at your over the top salaciousness.
"That's awful. Most cliche, overdone, cheap porno concept ever," he chastens.
"I never said I was creative."
"What happens after that?"
"The towel gets swept away by a sudden gust of wind, so I have to cover you. With my body."
He bursts. There's no other word to describe it, his back arches with the force of his laughter and he holds his fist to his mouth, shaking and giggling like an idiot.
"Where's the wind coming from?" he questions incredulously.
"I don't know! The window?"
"Oh my god," he says. He hooks his hand under your arm and pulls you up his chest, dotting a fond kiss to your forehead as you near. "And after that?"
"Well, I told you that part."
"Right, we hook up, but after that."
You clench your fists, insecure. "After?"
He brings the hand that isn't loving the length of your back to your face, stroking the skin under your chin with the backs of his index and middle finger, the flat of his fingernails sliding gently in a soothing back and forth.
"I guess it's kind of like this," you answer eventually.
"Does fantasy Eddie get another kiss, too? Or does he- do they stop, afterwards?"
"It's a fantasy. The kisses never stop," you tell him. Adrenaline must linger in your veins; you can barely speak.
His expression becomes impassive, and a lull in the conversation blossoms. He searches your face for something and you don't know what, but he must find it, because he dips down and kisses you chaste on the lips.
Your hands are back to tentative as they explore his neck. Your fingertips grace the curves of his throat and then sink behind, into the dampened mess of his hair.
He stays chaste, dainty kisses, pulling back to dot them against your lips over and over.
"Eddie," you say softly, "what are you doing?"
"It feels like kissing," he says, tone a mirror of your own.
You huff a laugh against his lips and kiss back.
Later, after more kisses than you could ever count and an hour dozing on his chest whilst his hand rubbed circles into your tired back, you get dressed into your clothes that he likes so much and slip your goodie bag into the belly of your strappy purse.
"Don't go over the top with it, alright?" he says, watching the green bud dissappear.
Jeans back in place and still bare-chested, Eddie sits on the end of his bed and scratches the back of his neck. You give him a grateful smile. "No, I won't. I actually think I might sleep really well tonight without it."
He smirks. "I bet you will."
Eddie walks with you to the front porch. You'd linger if you didn't have to go, and you're pretty sure he'd let you. There's a fraction of awkward silence.
"See you later," you say, walking sideways down one step, another.
Eddie catches your hand. It takes you a second to realise what he's done: forced your crumpled thirty dollars back into your hand. Your heart misses a beat and you feel your stomach plumet – you hadn't fucked him for the free pot.
"Eddie-"
"My girl can't pay for her own supply. That's not happening."
You take one step up. "Your girl?"
He has the good graces to look nervous. "If you wanna be."
You don't know how to answer. He looks pretty like this in the last dregs of sunshine, big brown eyes waiting patiently for you to say something, hand clutching his elbow. It doesn't feel entirely real.
You step on tip toes and work your hands behind his neck to kiss his cheek before rubbing your forehead against his chin. "I'll come by tomorrow?" you ask hopefully. He relaxes under your weight.
"Any time you want. I'll take you some place nice, if you're up for it."
You set back on your heels and pull away. "You don't need to go all fancy on me, Munson." You're happy to get stoned and eat burgers on the couch.
He looks you up and down, eyes catching on the flanks of your thighs before he takes in your face. His smile is almost dorky when he says, "No I- I think I do. I'll see you tomorrow, pretty girl."
You nod with an aching smile and are a little ways away when he smugly calls, "Sleep well!"
After the lesson he just gave you, you're sure you will.
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thank you for reading! | my masterlist
please reblog if you enjoyed, I promise it makes a big difference! ♡
Okay so, I have this idea that I would love for someone (anyone) to write out. Imagine the new girl, who’s the super cliche good girl type, (always in pink, perfect grades, just all around total sweetheart girly girl) shows up at a corroded coffin gig and loves the band, which shocks the hell out of Eddie, but they start getting to know each other and when he tells her his favorite band is Metallica she’s just casually like “oh really? My older brother is best friends with Kirk”
@oxbunnehxo “PLEASEEEE!! CAN SHE BE A BIMBO TOO?!?!?!”
this is kinda going in a different direction but you just gave me another idea for bratty/bimbo who’s daddy is a record exec and she’s sitting in the studio reading cosmo with a sucker in her mouth, distracting Eddie from recording
Okay so, I have this idea that I would love for someone (anyone) to write out. Imagine the new girl, who’s the super cliche good girl type, (always in pink, perfect grades, just all around total sweetheart girly girl) shows up at a corroded coffin gig and loves the band, which shocks the hell out of Eddie, but they start getting to know each other and when he tells her his favorite band is Metallica she’s just casually like “oh really? My older brother is best friends with Kirk”
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everybody’s talkin’ up a storm (act like they don’t notice)
summary: The one where the boys don’t know that Eddie Munson is dating the pretty assistant librarian that always helps them out. Dustin has a crush on her. Mike thinks it’s fake. Erica just wants to get home to watch Thundercats.
“Uh, Eddie?” Lucas started, voice small. “Do you have someone over?”
Eddie blinked. “Uh. Just my girlfriend,” he said flippantly, tossing himself onto the sofa and taking a slow drag of his cigarette. “Keep it down for a while, would ya? She had a long night.”
There was silence.
“Your what?”
warnings: none! wholesome fluff here lmao. a lot of d&d references – curse of strahd is a banger