Sinczir!

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.”

────────

“Hello?”

Your voice was tired as you picked up the phone, rubbing your sleep-heavy eyes at you glanced at your alarm clock.

1:47am.

“Give me the phone, dude. You’re gonna regret this in the morning.”

You heard the sound of mumbles and rustling on the other end of the line as you tried to make out what it was that you were listening to- who the hell was calling.

“Nonono. Shhh…shut up. I just wanna. Hey! No! Gimme….gimme that baaaack. I wanna talk’ta her. C’mon. Gimme.”

You heard the familiar sound of Eddie Munson’s voice on the other end of the phone. A voice you hadn’t heard in over a month- not since the breakup.

“Hey, are you there?”

“Gareth?” You ask, trying to make sense of all of this. It was far too late for you to be dealing with it.

“Hey, yeah, sorry. That was Eddie.” He sighs heavily “We told him not to call you. But you know Eddie. He kinda just does whatever he wants.”

“Is everything okay?” You ask, sitting up in bed.

“Yeah, he’s fine. He’s just drunk. And stupid.”

And then you hear it again.

“Hey! Don’t tell her I’m stupid! M’not stupid!”

“Here we fucking go.” Gareth grumbles “Yes, Eddie, you are stupid. You literally just drunk dialed your ex-girlfriend at two in the morning.”

“Not my ex-girlfriend anymore after I-“ His words get cut off as he hiccups loudly “Will you lemme talk’ta her? Please? Pretty please? C’monnnn!”

You could hear the drunken giggles in Eddie’s voice. It was always a dead giveaway that he was tipsy. He got goofy. Well, goofier.

“Eddie, no.” Gareth says sternly “You are not talking to her right now.”

“But I neeeeed to.” He whines “Just wanna talk’ta her for a second. Just, like, a teeny tiny second.”

“No.”

“Gaaaaareth!”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you struggled not to laugh. Fucking Eddie. It was far too late for this shit.

“Baby? Hey, baby!” He bellows in the background as Gareth groans.

“Eddie, she doesn’t wanna talk to you, man. Go drink some fucking water and sleep it off like I told you to.”

“Are you sure he’s okay?” You ask, growing worried at how exasperated Gareth sounded. Eddie must have been giving him a hard time all night.

“Yeah. Like I said, he’s just stupid.”

“How’d he end up calling me, anyway?” You ask “I-“

But your words were interrupted by Eddie yelling in the background.

“Baby! Hey! Baby, baby, baby! Listen! Gare, is she listening? Babe, are you listening?”

“No, Eddie. She is not listening.”

“Oh, fuck off!" Eddie replies “I know she can hear me. Baaaaabe! Tell Gareth you wanna talk’ta me. I’ve got somethin’ to tell you. Somethin’ important.”

“Jesus Christ,” you sigh “He’s really off it, isn’t he?”

“You have no fucking idea.”

“Baaaabe! Baby, baby, babes. Sweetheart. Honey. Hey!”

“Eddie, will you please shut the fuck up?” Gareth finally snaps.

“Gare?” You sigh “Just put him on the phone.”

“You sure?” Gareth asks “I don’t think-“

“It’s fine, Gare. I’ll just let him say what he needs to say.”

“Alright…” Gareth replies, his voice unsure. The next thing you knew, the phone was being hijacked by Eddie whose voice bellowed over the line.

“Baby?”

“Yes, Eddie?”

“Fuck, finally!” He exclaims “Never thought he’d get off the phone. He hogs the fucking line like he pays the bill or something.”

“Eddie, you’re calling from his house.” You point out.

“….Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Semantics and all that. How’ya doin’, baby?” He flirts “S’been awhile.”

“What do you want, Eddie?” You ask, cutting right to the chase. You didn’t have time for games.

“Ea-sy.” He sasses “Goddamn. A guy can’t call his girl to ask what’s goin’ on? Geez…”

“Eddie, I’m not your girl.” You remind him.

“Yeah, whatever, babe. Semantics.” He states “What good are they in the grand scheme of things, anyway?”

“Well, in this case, I think they’re pretty important.”

“I don’t concur but you are free to your own opinion, m’lady. My…beautiful…lady.” He laughs, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Eddie, you have five seconds to get to the point or I’m hanging up.”

“No! Don’t! Don’t hang up, please. Just talk’ta me. Miss your voice, angel. Miss you. So much.” He sighs longingly “That pretty, pretty voice of yours.”

“Eddie, this isn’t funny. I’m hanging up now.”

“Nooo! Do. Not. Hang. Up. I need- Baby, just listen….M’sorry. I know you’re mad. I was stupid. Soooo stupid but I miss you. Miss you so much. Can’t stop thinkin’ about you.” He rambles “You’re in my head.”

“Well, Munson, I hate to you break it to you but you need to get me out of your head.” You warn “You doing this right now isn’t good for the both of us.”

“Says who?” He challenges.

“Me.” You argue “Now, hang up the phone. Go take some Advil, drink some water, and go to bed before you make a fool for yourself. You’ll regret this in the morning.”

“No, baby. ‘M not gonna regret this. I regret letting you go. I was so stupid. So fucking stupid. Stupid, Eddie. I was a stupid, bad boyfriend.” He agonizes “Don’t wanna be stupid anymore. Wanna be with you, baby. I miss you.”

“Eddie. No.” You reply sternly “Stop.”

“Nooo.” He groans “I can’t. I love you, baby.”

“Eddie, you don’t love me. You’re drunk.”

“S’true.” He laughs “M’drunk but I also love you. Love you sooo much. Never stopped.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“Y’know what I love about you th’most?” He asks, a tiny hint of a giggle escaping his lips.

“What?” You sigh.

“You put up with m’shit.” He says “Y’do it better than anyone else. I was s’lucky. Lucky me.”

“Well, not anymore.” You sigh “Now Gareth puts up with your shit.”

“Yeah but s’not the same. I miss you.” He whines “D’you miss me?”

“Eddie…”

“D’you even think about me?” He pouts “You’re probably already seein’ someone else. Probably fucking someone else. I fuckin’ think about it and it kills me, baby.”

“Why?” You ask “We’re not together anymore, Eddie. We can both have sex with whoever we want. That’s how breaking up and being single works.”

“But I don’t wanna be single.” He complains “Shit sucks! Don’t wanna have sex with anyone else either. Jus’ you. Only you, baby. Couldn’t even get hard for anyone else if I fuckin’ tried. All I wan' is you.”

“Eddie..” Your heart pounds in your chest at his admission. Even after all this time, he still had the power to make you feel wrecked over his words. He was probably so drunk that he didn’t even realize it.

“C’mon, baby. We were so good together.” He pleads “Come back t'me.”

“That was before, Eddie.” You point out, trying to stay firm. You absolutely could not fold.

“Yeah but we can fix this. I can fix it, baby. Lemme fix it, sweetheart.” He pleads “I’ll do anything to get you back.”

“Eddie, you are so drunk right now.”

“Mmm.” He hums “And horny. Don’t forget horny.”

“Another reason why you need to hang up and go to bed.”

“But I don’t wanna.” He whines “Not when I’m getting somewhere.”

“Getting where, exactly?” You huff out a laugh.

“I dunno but you’re still talkin’ t’me so I must be doin’ somethin’ right.” He points out.

Cocky little shit.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Nooo, wait!” He says “C’mon, baby. I miss you. You miss me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“C’mon sweetheart, I know ya do. Fuck, I miss you. God, I miss you. Haven’t gotten off in so long. My fucking balls are hurting, baby.”

“Eddie!”

“What? S’the truth!” He says “Using my hand isn’t the same. Doesn’t feel as good as you. God, I fucking miss you. You and that tight, wet-“

“Oooohkay!” You gasp “Stop! That’s enough!”

“Oh, c’mon, sweetheart. Don’t act all shy. You used to like it when I would talk to you like this.”

“That was before, Eddie. Now I don’t.”

“Maybe you just need a reminder then.” He suggests “Because I’ve never forgotten, sweetheart. Fuck, I remember everything. How good it was. How good you feel. How you taste. Mmm fuck!”

And, for some reason, you stay on the line. You close your eyes as you throw your head back into your pillow. Fuck, this sucks.

“Baby? You still there?”

“Yeah.” You sigh “I’m still here, Eddie.”

“Good!” He says “Good, good, good….because I’m horny, sweetheart….and lonely. Sooo fuckin’ lonely. I want you, babe. I need you.”

“Eddie, this isn’t-“

“Shhh! Stop it. Stop tryin' ‘ta fight it. It’s pissin’ me off.”

“You’re the one who’s pissed off?” You scoff “You called me. With your bullshit. At two in the morning, might I add.”

“Yeah but you love my bullshit, baby. You looooove it. You put up with it s’well ‘cause you know that I make it worth your while.” He chuckles deeply.

“And how exactly do you make it ‘worth my while’?”

“Mmm….Cause I dick ya down so fuckin’ good that you always forget why you’re mad.” He flirts “S’why you lemme get away with s’much, right, sweetheart?”

“Edward Munson, I swear to god I’m hanging up now.”

“No you’re not. You’re not gonna hang up. I know you. Know you soooo well. Know what makes you weak.” He hums “Know what’s makes you tick. If you wanted to hang up, you woulda done it already. No, you don’t wanna hang up. You wanna listen to me as I tell you allll the dirty fuckin’ things that I’ve been thinkin’ about, baby. It’s been weeks. So much time for me ‘ta think. You wanna know a secret?” He laughs, coming out deep and mischievous.

You couldn’t help but be curious. “What?”

“You’re gonna hate me but I, uh, I still use those pictures of you. You know which ones I’m talkin’ about? The dirty ones?”

“Eddie!” You exclaim “You were supposed to throw those out!”

“Oops.” He laughs “Silly me. Silly, silly me. Must’a slipped m’mind, baby.”

“Yeah. Sure.” You huff.

“You wan’ ‘em, back?” He offers “I mean, because if you do, you’d have to come over’ta my place and come get ‘em.”

“Whatever, Munson. Keep them. I don’t even care.”

“That’s not true.” He tsks “You don’t mean that. You do care. As a matter of fact, I think you care soooo much. I think you secretly get off from knowin’ that your ex still needs to look at you ‘ta cum….and, baby, there’s soooo much cum. So, so much now that you’re not here to help me empty my fuckin’ load in you.”

Before you can stop yourself, you let out a desperate whimper. It was so quiet- hardly even there but you knew that it wouldn’t have slipped past Eddie.

God fucking dammit.

“Oh…” Eddie chuckles, low and deep in your ear as you squeeze your eyes closed. Fuck. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Fuck, I knew you would. Always looooved to see me suffer. Loved to hear me be fuckin’ needy for you. Well, baby, m’so…fuckin’…needy without you. Dunno whatta even do with myself. So lost without you, angel. You and that tight…wet…cunt of yours. Fuck. Miss my girl, baby. Miss you sooo much.”

"Eddie..."

"Tell me, sweetheart, do you miss me? Do you miss my cock? My big fucking cock stretching you open. Fuuuck, I bet you fucking do, baby. God, I miss you. My good girl. Used to be so good for me. Used to let me fuck you anytime I wanted it. Fuck, you were always so fucking horny for me. You still horny for me, baby? Hm? Tell me. Fucking tell me."

"Fuck...yes, Eddie. I...I'm still horny for you, okay? Is that what you wanted?"

"Mhm. Exactly what I wanted, baby, thank you." He hums appreciately.

"Fucking jackass..."

"Your jackass, baby. All yours. Never stopped being yours. Only wanna to be yours. Still want you to be mine. Want you back. Fuck, I need you back. Do I have to fucking beg, sweetheart? 'Cause I will. God, I need you back. Need you wrapped around me. That fucking pussy of yours....those lips. God, sweetheart, I'm so fucking gone for you and you don't even care."

"I do care, Eddie." You admit "I just-"

"You just want me to suffer. That's it, right? You wanna teach me a lesson. You wanna make sure that I know what life is like without you. Well, sweetheart, it fucking sucks, okay? So lets just fucking make up already so that I can fuck you stupid. Like you're mine again..."

"Never stopped being yours." You whimper, growing so wet at his words. His devotion.

"Yeah? Fuck, baby, I knew it. Knew you still loved me." He sighs longingly "Fuck, I need you right now, angel. Right fucking now. Are you home?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Don't go anywhere."

"Eddie, you can't fucking drive!" You exclaim "You're drunk. You're not thinking."

"No, baby. No, no, no. I'm thinking too much. About you. God, you're in my head. Need you so bad."

"Eddie, baby, you're drunk. How about you just sleep on it, okay? How-"

"Nope!" He interjects "Need my keys. Where are my fuckin' keys? Keys....keys, keys, keys....fucking keys! Gareth! What'd you do with my keys, you dickhead?"

"Eddie-"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck.....okay.....new plan. You, sweetheart, need to come to me. Yeah? How's that sound?"

"Eddie, maybe we should just wait it out. It's not-"

"Sweetheart, listen, I don't think you get me right now. I have been without you for over a month. I am literally dying here. I need your pussy. Desperately. I need relief. Sweet fucking relief. I need to fuck you. I need to fucking bend you over the nearest fucking surface and fuck all of the fucking cum that I have been fucking backed up with for weeks. All of it. Need'ta give it to you. Right fucking now. I need to fucking bury my dick in that tight....sweet...little pussy of yours. I don't care if it's the last thing I do. I don't care. I neeeeeed it."

"Fuck, Eddie..." You moan "You sound so hot when you say things like that...."

"Yeah? You think I'm hot when I say filthy shit like that, baby? 'Cause I'm about to be fucking gorgeous by the time I get over there. So, what's it gonna be? You gonna be a good girl and let me come fuck you? You gonna let me give you this hard fucking dick? Huh? Or are just going to play games?"

"Okay." You say.

"Okay?" He asks.

"Come over here and fuck me, Munson."

The line goes silent for a moment. So silent that you were worried that the call had dropped. Then you heard the most guttural, animalistic growl that you've ever heard come from him.

"Fuck, baby, Christ! Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Don't fall asleep on me! I'll be there in fifteen minutes, sweetheart! I love you!"

The line immediately goes dead.

Well, you thought- staring at the phone in your hand before hanging it up.

So much for not folding.

────────

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@eddiemunsonlover886

Eddie Munson was your best friend. You and him grew up together, homing in the same trailer park, and guardians being friends.

You were glad to have him in your life. He was always there, willing to tend to any of your needs, and would do anything for you.

You found it sweet.

But Eddie would kill for you. He knew you took all his gestures into an innocent, sweet manner, and he was okay with that — but he was in love with you.

A love that wasn't so gentle and safe. He was obsessed, and was repulsed to the idea of anyone else taking you from him.

No one knew you in all the ways he did.

There wasn't a right match for you, except for him. He patiently waited for you to understand that he was suitable for you, but as time went on, and you got with more guys, it became thinned out.

Eddie would give you a bit more time to accept the truth that he was the man you needed.

"Hey, Eds?" You asked, noticing he was zoned out. The chatter of Hawkins cafeteria couldn't even pull him away from his thoughts. Your sweet voice was the only thing that could.

"What's up?" Eddie asked, picking at the raisins in his lunch pale. "You okay?"

"Do you think there's something wrong with me?" You asked, a mere frowning playing on your lips.

"No, why?" Eddie was confused, his attention falling entirely on you. "Did someone say something to you?"

"No— well, I don't know," you mumbled, rubbing your temple. "You know how I have been talking to Brandon Smith for a while now?"

Eddie nodded, tuned in and listened carefully. "Yeah, one of Jason's other lap dogs."

You sighed, rolling your eyes. "Well, I thought things were good between us. We just went on a third date last Friday, and then, I found out he's taking Annie to the Winter Formal."

"What?" Eddie muttered.

"Yeah! It doesn't make sense to me either," you continued, pursing your lips. "I mean, we never clarified we were exclusive, but I thought we were getting somewhere."

Eddie's blood boiled, and fumed. His hands rolled up, tightening into fists, and had skilled at not showing you his visible anger. "There's nothing wrong with you," Eddie reassured, giving you a gentle smile. "Brandon is a cracked up fuck, anyway. No good for you."

"Yeah, maybe you're right," you chuckled lightly, and Eddie hummed, patting your shoulder. "It's just shitty. He seemed really genuine."

"You'll find someone good," he said, handing you his bag of trail mix. "You're a sweet girl, and for Brandon to do that is a douchebag move. You don't need that, okay?"

You flashed a soft smile at Eddie, nodding and began to eat the trail mix.

Eddie's friends came to sit at the table, but were the only ones to notice his dull, blank expression. They had a poor feeling it had to do with you, yet chose not to question, and simply eat their lunches.

You were too distracted in your conversation with Dustin to notice what was going on, and what ran through Eddie's head.

Brandon Smith was the only person in the locker room after his last period at Gym had ended. He was putting on his shirt, his hair damped and messy as he just gotten out of the shower.

A pair of footsteps creeped up the locker room, near him, and he raised a brow. Not particularly scared, but worried, he peeked behind the lockers, and didn't see a single person.

He shook it off, assuming it was a student who forgot their bag.

"Hey, Brandon!" Eddie exclaimed as he popped up on the opposite side of him, smiling. Brandon shrieked, earning a chuckle out of Munson. "Did I scare you?"

"What the fuck, freak?" Brandon snapped, zipping up his Gym bag. "What the fuck are you doing in here?"

"Here to chat," Eddie answered. "That's all."

"Chat?" Brandon nearly barked a laugh, rolling his eyes. "What makes you think I would want to talk?"

"Oh, but you're fine with chatting with me when you're fuckin' fiending!" Eddie said, clear and loud enough for any remaining people in the locker room to hear.

Brandon glared at him. "That's a different scenario."

"Not really," Eddie muttered, stuffing his hands into his own pockets, his hand grasping onto the switchblade that sat within the right one.

Brandon sighed, realizing he wouldn't be able to leave until Eddie got his words across. "Okay, what do you want?" He asked, leaning against the lockers, Eddie only standing a few inches away in front of him. "I got places to be."

"Tell me what happened with Y/N," Eddie said, monotone and blunt in a blink.

"What? Why?" Brandon wondered. "You're wanting to talk about her?"

Eddie hummed. "Answer the question."

"Well, man," Brandon sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "She gave it up too easily, and got too many damn problems. She's a trailer park whore, and I didn't need that."

Eddie's head spun, and the light around him was slowly sinking into nothingness. "Gave it up?"

"Ya'know, her body, her pussy," Brandon clarified, finding it humorous. "She has no self respect, and that's pathetic."

Another word didn't come out of his mouth as Eddie grabbed him, and tossed him to the ground. Eddie's vision was a blur and his mind was clogged, but could understand the punches he was throwing into Brandon's face.

The rings on Eddie's fingers doubled the aggression and assault.

He swore he cracked his cheekbone, and caused a concussion, but didn't care. He didn't care if he killed him in this very locker room, because all that mattered is that he would stay away from you for good. That he would never talk about you in a derogatory way ever again.

Eddie needed to make sure of that – he had to.

"Fuck you!" He screamed as his fist collided into Brandon's left eye, and could hear him gasping, crying, and wanting to fight back, but Eddie's weight held him down. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"

Eddie breathed heavily, one of his punches breaking Brandon's nose, an audible snap coming into his ears. He got up, hovering over the sobbing, vulnerable male.

He wanted to laugh — one of Hawkin's best basketball players, who was intimidating yet charming, and broader and stronger than Eddie, was now curled up in a ball, bleeding out of his face.

Eddie struck his ribcage with a hard kick, and Brandon groaned, pleading for mercy. "Fucking pussy," he mocked, tossing another strike of his foot to his side. "You deserve this. You deserve worse than this."

"I—I'm sorry!" Brandon sobbed, gasping heavier, trying to engulf oxygen into his bruising lungs. "Please."

Eddie crotched down, gripping a chunk of his hair, brought his head up and forced eye contact. "You're not sorry. You just make sure to never speak to her, or I will kill you next time." He released Brandon's hair from his grasp, his head thudding on the tile floors.

Eddie's every step had a bounce to it as he walked out of the locker room.

You were laying on your stomach on your bed, flipping through magazines as music faintly played in your bedroom. You carelessly eyed new styles, humming to yourself.

A knock planted softly at your door, and you peeked up, seeing your aunt. She smiled small, a cigarette dangling between her lips. "Chrissy Cunningham is on the phone," she exhaled a blow, "asking for you."

"Did she say why?" You wondered.

"No, but she sounds shaken up," your aunt continued, and you nodded, getting up from your bed, strolling to the kitchen where the landline hanged out at.

You picked up the phone, bringing it up to your ear. "Hey, Chris. What's up?"

"Brandon is in the hospital," Chrissy said, and your heart sank. She was sniffling, overly worried and in panic. "It's so bad."

You paused. "W—What happened? Why is he in the hospital?"

"Jason and the guys found him in the locker room," Chrissy's voice began to shutter. "He was beaten, really bad. Nose broken, ribcages fractured, nearly blind in his left eye — it's so gory."

"What? W—Who... What? This doesn't make sense," you said, unease and confused. "Did he say who?"

"No, he won't make a confession," Chrissy answered, sighing heavily. "Either way, he can barely talk, or make any sort of comprehension. He has a severe concussion."

You went quiet for a moment, trying to gather up pieces in your head, making a puzzle in your head.

Brandon did have enemies, but it was mostly outcasts, and the smartest kids in school — the opposite clique of him, and Jason's friends. But, those enemies were not capable of any harm, nor would attempt any. If they did, they'd get it worse.

Nothing had happened to him until today when you told—

"Chrissy, I have to go," you muttered, hanging up the line. You ran into your bedroom, grabbing your shoes, and slipping them. Your hands were shaking, your heart thumping and pounding in your eardrums, bile burning your throat.

It was just a thought, a consideration, and you knew Eddie would never hurt anyone.

He was too kind, and gentle.

You stalked out of your trailer, finding your aunt watering the front lawn with a new cigarette in her mouth. "You going to Eds?" She asked, and you hummed. "Okay, be safe."

You continued your stalking to Eddie's uncle's trailer, stomping up onto the porch, and pounded your fist against the door. "Edward Munson!" You shouted, banging persistently on the door. "I know you're in there, I can smell fresh pot!"

After a few more harsher hits, the door opened up, revealing a contented, shirtless Eddie, and had a joint in his mouth. "Well, if it isn't my favorite person," he joked, and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the door frame.

Red, bruising spots were visible on his knuckles. He wasn't even trying to make them discreet.

You brushed past him as you welcomed yourself into his trailer, and he closed the door behind the both of you, his eyes falling into yours.

You stood in the middle of his living room, making a safe distance between the two of you. "Are you responsible for Brandon?" You questioned, and Eddie chuckled, flashing a toothy smile. "I don't have time for your shit, Eddie!"

"Oh, excuse me, sweetheart," Eddie snickered, burning his joint out onto the ashtray that sat on the living's room coffee table. "I knew you'd figure it out."

You scoffed. "So, you did?"

"I may have swung a punch or two at him," Eddie said, grabbing a cheap beer from the fridge. "Nothing too bad."

"He is in the hospital, Eds! He has a severe concussion, fractured bones!" You shouted, irritated at Eddie's amusement. "What the fuck did you do?"

"He called you a trailer park whore," he stated, walking to his bedroom as you trailed behind him. "Saying how you spread your legs easily for him, and that you were just bad for his bullshit reputation."

"He said that?" You asked, Eddie sitting on the edge of his bed, and you stood in front of him.

"He laughed at you. He was practically mocking you," he emphasized, scoffing harshly. "I took care of it. I handled it for you."

"But you didn't need to, Eddie!" You panicked, shaking your head in utter disbelief. "If he comes clean, you'll be arrested. You'll go to jail."

"I really don't care," Eddie said, grinning. "You think this is my first time doing this shit for you?"

You fell silent, suddenly lost in what he was saying.

He got up from his bed, only needing to take a few, close inches towards you. He looked down at you as you stared up at him. "Aidan Walter, Michael Dallas, Kyle Thorne, Richard Fields, Brandon Smith — they all had the same thing to say about you. They degraded you proudly, and you think you deserve that?'

Your mouth opened, but your words croaked in your throat. Nothing came out, shock falling over you. "I... I don't know."

"Every time you came crying to me about a guy who did you wrong, I handled it. This isn't my first time, and they know they can't turn me in," Eddie explained, and you raised a brow. "They're drug addicts. They know if I sneak a word to their coach to drug test them, they're fucked."

"But they could turn you in for being a drug dealer," you retorted, and a faux pout dangled on Eddie's lips. "They have privilege, you don't."

He settled his beer down on his cluttered dresser, turning his attention away from you. "If that's the case, why haven't the others said anything?" Eddie questioned. "You haven't asked me why I did it — that's surprising."

"You did it because you want revenge? Because you were trying to be a good friend?"

"Revenge, yes. I'd beat those fuckers with no hesistation," Eddie agreed, shrugging lazily as he went back to sitting on his bed. "But, I did it because you don't deserve to be talked about like that. I did it because I would do absolutely anything for you — I'd fucking rip apart this filthy world for you."

You took a step back, a brutal realization striking you.

"Are you in love with me?" You asked, so simply, but with so much fear behind your words.

He hummed. "There's my smart girl."

You were oblivious — gullible — to Eddie's generosity, and kindness. A more crucial role behind every word, every action, every thought that came out of him. You didn't know how to comprehend anything, your mind fogged, and mute.

You should've been feeling sick to your stomach, nausea and terror was meant to consume and claim you entirely. A person who had received the news that their best friend beat — and nearly murdered — men who have hurt you, would run away, and shut them out forever.

You didn't do that. You were paralyzed in your spot, only hesitate to make eye contact with Eddie, and could feel his eyes boring into you.

What he did was unsettling and wrong, but your heart couldn't help to ache to what he did.

"You hate me now?" Eddie asked, and you inhaled sharply, peeking at him. You shifted over towards him, bringing him into an embrace, his head resting on your stomach as your hands rested on the back of his head.

"No, no," you mumbled, looking down at him. "But you could end up in jail because of this, Eddie. You have to understand that."

Eddie inhaled your perfume, his mind ransacking with complexed thoughts. He was glad you appreciated his devoted duty, but hated that you were worried about his well being.

He only cared that you would be safe.

"I'll be okay, doll," he muttered, practically smashing his face into your stomach.

You fiddled with his hair, not knowing what was to happen next. He was in love, and obsessed with you — that's not easy news to take in.

You let him out of your embrace, crouching down and stared up at him. "I can protect myself, and... I'm sorry you had to hear those things from Brandon."

Eddie took your face into his hands, his thumbs softly caressing your cheeks, and you could feel yourself melting into his touch.

A delicate touch that held so much violence behind it.

He could do immense damage to another human, but never to you. You were the peace in his chaotic world. You were serene, in contrast to his mayhem. You knew there was always a darkness that consumed him, but you granted such light to it, that he'd forget he even held it in him.

Eddie wanted to hold you close, skin absorbing into one another's, and have you forever. He wanted to tear you apart, but then mend you back together.

The silence that fell into the air was tight, and suffocating.

This man had been your best friend for years, and there was never any unbearable tension until now. In this very moment, where his eyes drowned into yours, and his lips quivered for the taste of yours.

"Can I kiss you?" Eddie cut the silence, his face cautiously inching into yours. "Please?"

A simple kiss, that could change the course of everything. But you wanted it — you wanted Eddie to kiss you. You had never craved such a risk until now.

You nodded. "You can kiss me, Eds."

He didn't let another second pass as his lips smothered yours, and his hands shifted to your waist, drawing you onto his lap. You propped yourself comfortably onto him, his hands snaking around your body, needing you close and secured.

You could taste pot on his lips, your cherry gloss mixing into it. His hands slipped under the sides of your shirt, yet went nowhere near your bra. His thumbs and hands grazed your soft, loving skin, and thought he must've been dreaming — he had yearned for this. For years.

Your own hands brushed his toned body, trickling down to the waistband of his sweats. You let your fingers curl around them, but wait there.

Eddie moved his face back, his taste disappearing from yours, and he grinned at your swollen lips. "Look at you," he mocked, admiring the desperation on your face. "You have no idea how long I've waited for you, sweetheart."

Your heartstrings tugged at his words, and the tips of your index and middle finger carefully touched his lips, eyes focused on this movement. "Do you really love me?" You softly asked. "Why do you love me?"

"You're the purity to this corrupted world," Eddie began, and you blinked up at him, and his gaze locked with yours immediately. "Your beauty is uncompared, and unbearable – it makes me a madman. Look what I've done for you; you have me in your power, and you don't even know it."

Eddie Munson is in love with me, you thought to yourself. He is in love with me, and I've been so blind to it.

The only man who'd ever wanted you for you. The only man who you didn't need to give your body to, to feel self-worth and loved. You could see in his eyes he meant what he said — that he swore his life on it. And if he were to ever hurt you, he would want death.

He would rather die, than to live with the knowledge that he dimmed your lightness, and damaged you.

"Please kiss me," you pleaded, wanting his love to soak and burn into your skin. "Kiss me, do what you want to me. But Eddie, do not leave me."

Eddie frowned. "I'd die without you."

You nodded, and your lips fell back onto his, bodies pressing against one another. His hands pulled you over and down onto his bed, your body trapped underneath his. "Are you sure you want this?" He asked hastily in between a kiss. "Do you?"

"Yes, I do," you breathed. "I want this."

Eddie kissed your cheek, leaning back, and shifted himself down in between your legs. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him take off your shoes, and then make his way to the waistband of your sweatpants.

He hooked his fingers under the hem of your bottoms and panties, looking up at you with another look of reassurance.

"I trust you," you said, and he pulled off both pieces of clothing, disposing them to a pile of his clothes on the ground.

Eddie parted your legs, laying himself on his stomach, and you could feel his hot breath blowing against your cunt. You relaxed your body, and Eddie's mouth attached itself to your area, earning a soft moan out of you.

You perked your head up, seeing the sight of him gladly eating you out. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, his strong hold locking them in place, and practically buried himself in between them. He moaned to the sweet taste of you, the vibrations buzzing against your sensitive hood.

His tongue ran up and down your slits, his lips plumped and stuck on your cunt. Your head fell back as your noises and breath grew louder, your mouth falling open the second he pushed two fingers into you, working them at a gentle, yet rapid pace.

Eddie was probably the only guy who knew how to properly eat you out, and you didn't have to fake an orgasm with.

"Fuck, fuck," you breathed. "Just like that, baby. Holy fuck."

His fingers were slamming into you, and his mouth separated from your cunt, his lips plumped and covered with your wetness. "Come here, sweet girl," he said as he hovered back over you. "Taste how good you are."

He placed his lips back onto yours, his fingers still violently pumping into you. Uncontrollable, lewd noises elicited out of you, being able to make out his grin pressing against your lips as he brought himself back from your mouth.

"So good for me, sweetheart," he praised,and adjusted himself back onto his stomach, hoisting your thighs over his shoulders. He hooked his mouth onto your cunt, devouring you once more, and you could feel a sweet scorch in the pit of your stomach.

It was too embarrassing and easy for you to cum this earlier than usual. You tried to ignore the hot sensation, focusing on the rhythm Eddie's tongue and mouth made on your cunt, and fucking good it felt.

Eddie had himself deep into your cunt, grateful to even pleasure you this well. All he wanted was to make you feel good.

The fire in your stomach ran to your thighs, and it became torturous to shut out. "Gonna cum," you warned, your voice shuddering. "Keep going, Eds. You're doing so good."

Eddie abided, never letting himself get a second of air as your thighs trembled on his shoulders. "Oh fuck!" You gasped, riding your orgasm out onto his fingers, and he let them fall out of you shortly after. His tongue lapped up your climax, his mouth sucking gently on your cunt.

Your chest heaved, and a fulfilled Eddie detached his mouth from your area, his mouth glistening with your juices. You peeked at him, chuckling and grinning at the sight of him.

"I'm not done with you yet," he said, his hand gripping your forearm, and you suddenly adjusted back on his lap. You whimpered as he used other hand to hold your jaw, having a firm grasp on it, and forcing you to pay attention to him.

"What now?" You asked.

Eddie placed his coated fingers on your bottom lip. "Suck."

You obliged, taking his fingers into your mouth. Eddie looked at you in pure awe, a cocky grin playing on his lips, and kissed the side of your head. Few seconds later, his fingers slide out of your mouth with a pop, and the knuckles of his hand caress your cheek so lovingly.

There was a flip in Eddie's eyes, and body language. He craved more of you, more of your body and desperation. He wanted your tears, screams, and sweat. He needed to see you plead under him, until you all you could think of was him senselessly fucking you.

For this, it was a danger. You were encouraging his obsession, and you couldn't tell if that was okay. It was flattering he hurt people for you, all because he wanted to defend you at every cost — like it was his soul purpose on Earth.

You weren't exactly opposed to his devotion to you, only in fright of how bad it could get.

It wasn't like you hadn't had your own moments when it came to Eddie and other girls. There were a few who had eyes on him, and always dumbly flirted with him — even in front of your bare eyes. You would always think you were being crazy for being jealous, especially when you got angry when Eddie would jokingly tease back at those girls.

You didn't want to share the attention he gave to you.

This was a bad idea. The worst idea to ever exist. But it didn't matter anymore — you and him were the perfect match. Maybe your need for him was always there, but you were too busy with others to notice it.

Those other guys didn't compare to Eddie Munson — none of them. And they would never commit their life to you.

Eddie had finally freed your jaw from his hand, but withheld staring at one another. "I know that look in your eye," he said, inhaling sharply. "You've finally come to your senses. I've been waiting for you to make that realization."

"How long?" You wondered.

"Forever," he answered, and planted his hands under your shirt, letting them carelessly rest there. "Even if you didn't, I still would've handled every guy who fucked you over. I would do it until it caught up to me."

You sighed. "It just might. Brandon will blab."

"Then promise to bail me?" He asked, and you snickered, rolling your eyes.

"My aunt is going to have a rage if you get arrested," you joked, and his grin turned into a small smile. "Let's not worry about that right now, please. I just want you, I want this."

Eddie titled his head to the side, his smile fading. "Be more clear, sweet girl."

You turned coy, your body tensing as his hands gave your torso a squeeze. You decided not to speak, your lips laying on his, and he let your body rut against him. "You're going to drive me more insane," he mumbled, and you hummed. "Come on, doll. Ride me."

You didn't hesitate for a moment, breaking the kiss, and you drew off your top and bra, letting them drop to Eddie's floor.

"Fuck," Eddie breathed, taking a second to memorize your body, and how he just knew it was made for him. "Fuck, you're perfect, doll."

You smiled, and looked over to Eddie's nightstand, finding condoms to lay there. "I'm not your first fuck?" You asked, a hint of bitter in your tone as you snagged an individual wrapper.

"I deserved to have my own fun, don't you think?" Eddie retorted, dragging off his sweats and boxers, dropping them on the floor. He merely sat closer to the middle of his bed, seizing the condom from your hold, and you glared at him. "Don't be so jealous, doll. You're my only girl, promise."

"Were they a good fuck?" You asked, and Eddie snorted while rolling the condom onto his dick.

"And I thought I was too possessive," he mocked, and braced his hands onto your hips, his nails digging into your skin. You were about to protest until Eddie's cock shoved into you, and you gasped at the sudden contact. "Maybe I'll fuck you out."

Your breath hitched in your throat as you and Eddie worked together, your hips rolling and his cock hastily thrusting into you. "Fffucckk, oh my god," you babbled, squeezing your eyes shut, and overwhelmed at Eddie's size.

"You take me so well," Eddie praised, another faux frown on his lips, and grabbed your face. "Look at me when I'm fucking you."

You obeyed as best as you could, cursing and moaning breathlessly. It felt like he was splitting you open, claiming your body entirely, and making you memorize the scynorichize of his cock pounding into your soaking cunt.

"I'm going to fucking damage you," he assured, his hand squeezing your cheeks, and felt as if his nails were drilling into them. "Tear you right apart."

"Yeah?" You taunted, able to pass a giggle through your shuddering breathing. "You're going to hurt me? You're too soft for me to do that, Eds."

He stopped all movements for a moment, and his hand made a switch, sending a hit across your left cheek. It turned your head and neck entirely, feeling his handprint drowning into your skin.

You only laughed. "Slapping me? Some of the guys did the same thing," you said, looking back at Eddie, and wanted to punish him with your words. "I think it was Brandon who would pull my hair and call me his filthy slut."

Eddie snapped. He took your form back under him, your body flattened into his mattress as he hovered over you, his hand furiously grasping your throat. "And you took it like a slut too. Didn't you, silly girl?"

You smiled. "Maybe," you breathed out, able to feel his nails clawing into the sides of your neck. "Maybe I fucking loved every second of it."

"Oh, I'm sure," Eddie muttered, his cock stuffing your cunt again. "But I'm going to make sure you can only think of me forever."

He kept his hand on your throat, and pushed his cock rough into you as you swore he was nearly reaching into your stomach. Your eyes watered, breath hallowed and weak with your pleads for him coming out hoarse and rough, putting one of your hands on his wrist.

"No, you don't get to touch me," Eddie said, pushing off your hand with his free one. "You don't deserve to touch me, silly girl."

You huffed. "Why not?"

"Cause you let all those idiots touch you," Eddie taunted, mocking despair on his face. "And I should just leave you hot and bothered after what you said, but I didn't – so be grateful."

Your lungs engulfed immense amounts of oxygen when Eddie's pulled his hand back, moaning out his name like it was a prayer. He grinned, staying hovered over you, and let his cock sinking deeper and harder into you, watching you fall apart slowly to it.

Sweaty, hot skin smacked throughout Eddie's bedroom, being sure that the whole neighborhood could hear you whining and crying for more of him.

"You sound so pretty for me, doll," he moaned, grinning. He positioned himself back, in a near-sitting style as he tossed your legs over his shoulders and snaked his arms around your waist, continuing to push himself into you.

"Oh shit— ffucckk, Eddie, Eddie," you moaned mindlessly. You were locked in his hold, your body squirming and twitching. Your fingers gripped at his bedsheets, your mind being rotten with the focus of his dick, and how good it felt pounding into you, basically stuffing your cunt.

"Don't you dare fucking cum," Eddie forewarned, chuckling breathily. "Just be a good girl, and take my dick, babydoll. Just take me."

You nodded, knowing there was another climax making its build in your stomach, but refused to pay any mind to it. "You fuck me so good, Eds," you whimpered, eyes rolling back. "Need more of you, please."

"You have me, sweetheart," Eddie promised, pressing his hand on your stomach for additional torture. "But don't try to sweet talk me just so you can cum."

"Just once, please," you cried, resting your hand on top of his hand. "Please, I'll be so good for you."

"Are you not being good for me right now, hm?" He wondered, the ball of his palm sinking further into your belly. "What a pathetic girl you are, trying to get whatever you want."

You hissed and groaned. "Please, please. I c—can't."

"Is my poor girl going to cry?" He taunted, holding back a laugh. "If you cum right now, then you'll have to keep doing so until I think you're done."

"Y—yeah, please!" You agreed mindlessly, chewing harshly onto your lower lip.

He hummed, and tapped the side of your thigh as a sign. Your body nearly melted into his mattress, your orgasm pushing out of you, and you could see a flash of stars in your vision. "Oh fucking hell!" You screamed, your body twitching seconds later.

Eddie pushed your legs off of his shoulders, letting himself fall out of you, and was already rotating you around onto your stomach. "We're not done, sweet girl," he said, planting a gentle kiss to your cheek before his arms were looped around your limp form, bringing your ass close to him.

You were barely to collect any thoughts, groaning the moment Eddie was back in you. He worked at a slow, steady peace in you as he used his strength to hold you up and close, stifling a chuckle in his throat.

"You said you were going to be good for me," Eddie reminded, his fingers clawing and curling into your hair, forcing the majority of your body to be picked up and brought against his. "Is this all you can really take, hm? Made me think you were better than this."

You grinned, sweat beading on your forehead and body. Your face was close enough to his as you glanced up at him, trying to correct your breathing. "You made me think you were gonna fuck me better than the others," you said lazily. "But it's about the same."

"Yeah?" Eddie rolled his hips forward, snapping a single sharp and deep thrust into you, and all at once, he began to violently pound into you. He made sure to keep you close to him as yours and his moaned mixed, and echoed throughout his bedroom.

Your eyes fell to the back of your head, grasping onto Eddie's arms and could feel your body growing more frail within every thrust that pushed into you. You were entirely trapped in his hold – not that you were complaining, it felt nice.

"That's my good girl," he praised, passing a kiss to the side of your head. "You take my cock so well."

You hummed, nodding, and could only hear him breathily chuckle to your obedience. He let his right hand creep up between the valley of your breasts, and it wrapped itself around your throat, using it as an extra leverage to hammer himself deeper into you.

"You seem to be liking my cock a lot," Eddie teased as your noises shuddered, and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes from the overwhelming exhilaration and pleasure. "Just wanted to be fucked and treated like a whore. All you had to do was ask, sweetness."

"Ffucckk you— ahh!" You cried the second the head of his cock started to continuously strike at your orgasm. "Oh shit, ffuucckk! Right there!"

Eddie orgasm was rising, keeping you locked and tight on him as he allowed himself to be audible, letting you know how good you were making him feel. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm gonna cum," he panted, giving you another sweet kiss to your cheek. "Cum with me, yeah? I want my girl to cum with me."

Your next climax had surfaced into the depths of your belly as you could feel Eddie's arms and body begin to tremble. "W—Wait!" You breathed, swallowing thickly. "I want you to cum in me."

"What?" Eddie chuckled, stopping himself entirely. "Repeat that for me."

"Oh, you heard me, Munson," you said, and he grinned. "And yes, I'm sure."

Eddie granted you that exact wish, letting himself out of you for a mere second and tossed his condom carelessly on his bedroom floor before taking his cock back into you. He looped his arms back around your form, tugging you back towards him as he perfectly fucked himself into you, and you bounced back onto his cock.

It didn't take long for both highs to come back to the surface, your head falling back and landing on his shoulder, and he smirked, brushing strands of hair out of your face. "Be a good whore, and cum," his breath was ragged and uneven, feeling it skim past your cheek. "Don't wanna disappoint me, hm?"

"N—no," you rasped, exhaustion slowly falling onto you but gathered enough energy to keep you going.

"Cum with me, honey," Eddie said, a hint of shudder playing in his words. You nodded, your high immediately crashing out of your body as your body jerked and nearly fell out of Eddie's grasp, but he had enough strength to hold you in his embrace.

He wasn't far behind you, his orgasm hitting its final peak, and rushing out of him, into you. He pushed softer and slower thrusts into you as he rode out his orgasm. Eventually, all his motions came to a stop, and his arms unhooked from your body, watching you collapse onto his mattress, and he fell out of you.

You took your time to recover your proper breathing pattern and energy, laying flat on your stomach, and you could feel sweat stick and drip around your body.

Eddie rested next to you, not caring that you were both drenched in sweat desire, and brought you next to him, letting you rest in his arms. Your head was on top of his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he was also trying to catch his breath.

"So that was," you tried to speak, your throat scratchy and hoarse. "Oh fuck."

He stifled a laugh, smiling in pure pride. "We need to clean up, doll."

"I would so gladly get up," you began, sighing warily, "only if you didn't fuck me numb and raw."

"Don't complain," Eddie said, getting himself up, and easily dragged you up off the bed, over his shoulder. "We are getting cleaned up, and then find something to do after."

"Like what?" You wondered, being placed on top of his bathroom sink as he started up a warm bath. "You're not worried Brandon might say something?"

Eddie shrugged. "Not really, no."

"Why not?" You asked. "He has all the privileges and status, you don't."

"Are we really discussing this again?" Eddie asked, moving back over to you while the water ran. "I'm going to be fine. Just let me take care of you, doll."

Your gaze softened as you could see pure admiration and care in his eyes for you. You nodded, chewing onto your lower lip. He pinched your chin, giving your nose a sweet peck, and walked back to the bath to stop the water.

Eddie helped you into the bath, setting you down into it, and the water soaked your body. You moaned to the feeling of it and relaxed into it.

"Feel good?" Eddie smiled, sitting in front of you, and you hummed in response.

You brought your legs up to your chest, hugging them, and rested your cheek on it, looking at Eddie with a small smile playing on your lips.

He noticed. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"Nothin'. Just love you, Eds," you said. You had told each other 'I love you' on many occasions, but this time, it had a different meaning behind it. "Always have, always will."

“Can you run the cables behind the drums? Jeff almost ate shit on stage last week”

With hours until the show, Eddie was busy, supervising and calling the shots as the crew set up the stage — and he looked great. 

You were watching, resting back against some boxes by the stage. He had his hair in a bun, just a few strands adorning his face, black tee, sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, thigh jeans that hugged his ass, chains hanging from his hips. And, most importantly, draped across his forearm, your daughter, Scarlett. Quite literally, the sight of your dreams. 

Your eyes kept scanning him entirely, running up and down. They stopped at the baby in his arm, chubby legs hanging from each side as he pressed her to his body, keeping her in place. She was agitated, grabbing at his hand, trying to shove his fingers into her mouth to use them as teethers. 

He adjusted her without even looking away from the stage. “Can’t eat that, angel” he pressed a kiss to her hair, brushing it back with his free hand. 

She protested as his fingers pulled away from her mouth, letting out an angry noise and scrunching her nose in frustration. 

You were unable to stop admiring him, so in his element — rockstar and dad, what an uniquely perfect combination. You couldn’t help but notice how he was in control, focused, sharp, giving instructions with such certainty. And his fingers when he pointed, or when he pressed them to his lips, thinking and observing if the stage felt right. 

“Right” he called out, lifting Scarlett to sit up straight on his arm, “that’s better, just finish the rest like that” 

Eddie made his way to you as the crew finished setting up the stage, unhooking a pacifier from one of the chains on his hip and handing you the baby. “Need a smoke” 

You just nodded, still hypnotized by the scene you had witnessed. Your eyes followed him, landing on his ass as he walked to the back door of the venue. Then up, where the thin shirt was clinging to his back, highlighting his shoulders. 

When you finally came to your senses, you adjusted Scarlett in your arms and looked at her, tiny arm reaching out for Eddie. “You wanna see daddy? Me too”

You walked to the door, only peeking through the crack he left open. He was leaning on the brick wall, foot up against it, bringing the cigarette up to his lips and lighting it. His head tilted back at the first drag. He was truly mesmerizing and you couldn’t keep yourself from watching. You tried to be quiet, not make him notice, but when Scarlett squealed, he caught you. 

A smirk formed on his face before blowing out the smoke. What?, he mouthed, without making a sound.

Nothing, you mouthed back, shaking your head. If you weren’t inside the dark venue, Eddie would’ve caught how you blushed.

He took a couple more drags, but didn’t finish the cigarette, just crushed it under his boot and made his way back in. Scarlett immediately leaned toward him and he grinned, taking her from you. 

“Missed me, pretty girl?” he whispered into her hair. “Looks like you’re not the only one” he teased.Your hand sneaked around his waist, reaching his back pocket to discreetly feel his ass. “You okay? Seem a bit agitated” he smirked. 

“You mean horny?” you whispered, almost laughing at yourself.

He rolled his eyes, “after the show, yeah?”

You bit back a smile, nodding and reaching for a quick kiss. “After the show” you agreed. 

You had divergent views on L.A. show nights. Eddie seemed to not enjoy them as much because to him, waking up in his own bed didn’t feel like a concert day. On the other hand, you loved them, getting to feel at least a bit normal, coming back to your own home after work like other families. 

But that night, you were both happy to be home. 

Eddie walked in with Scarlett’s carrier, holding the door for you as you took her bag. You walked in quietly, following him into the baby’s room. 

“You wanna transfer her?” he whispered.

You nodded, already dreading what would happen if you accidentally woke her up that late. After a deep breath, you reached into the carrier, carefully lifting her out, both you and Eddie making ‘shhshh’ noises with your mouths. You managed to lower her down into the crib, adjust her pacifier and finally breathe again. 

Eddie almost chuckled when you both sighed at the same time. He made sure to turn off the lights and check the room temperature before you walked out and carefully shut the door. 

“Can I blow you?”

Eddie looked down at you, hand brushing your hair behind your ear, not even fazed by the bluntness of your words, just a smirk on his lips. “Yeah”

You moved to your room, leather jackets being dropped by the door. Eddie lay back immediately, on the edge of the bed, watching as you took off each item of clothing. 

First the tight black skirt, revealing that your stockings were being held up by a garter belt that sat around your waist. Then the t-shirt of his band, off and on the floor, now revealing the matching black set you had underneath. 

“Help me with my boot, baby?” you asked innocently, lifting one leg to step right between his thighs, if you pressed down, you’d step on his crotch. 

He moved silently, one hand reaching for your calf as the other undid the laces and his lips pressed a kiss to your knee, over the sheer fabric of your stockings. Once he slipped off the boot you did the same with the other leg as you unhooked the latches of the garter. 

“So you did this on purpose”

“You should’ve known” you smirked, freeing your foot from his hold. 

Eddie nodded once, “yes, I should’ve known.” He reached out for your hips — thumb running against the bat tattoo on your hipbone, the one you got just days before your wedding, to match his — pulling you closer. “Gonna get down on your knees for me?”

You nodded, kneeling in front of him, hands running up and down his thighs. His hand immediately met the back of your head, guiding you down to nuzzle at his crotch. Just from having your face pressed against it, you could feel he was already hard — you hadn’t even touched him yet. 

You were too desperate to tease, so your hands reached to unbutton and unzip his jeans,tugging them down with his boxers when he lifted his hips. His cock sprung out, red and pretty, begging to be touched — and you wasted no time. 

Your hand reached for his base, angling him toward your mouth. Your lips pressed a gentle kiss to his tip before spitting down on it. Your tongue darted out to spread the saliva all over him before you took him in. 

You dipped lower, taking everything just for a second, the inevitable gag making more spit spill over his cock, just the way you wanted. Your hand slipped up and down his shaft, smearing it around to make your mouth glide down easily. 

You felt his hand on the back of your head again, fingers between strands of hair, as he looked down at you, just as a warning before pushing you down. His head fell back with a groan as held you down just to your limit. 

“Perfect doll. Been waiting all day for this, huh? Will do everything I want.” 

You nodded and he let go of you, tears in your eyes, threatening to spill out and smear your eyeliner. But you don’t care, you just wanted to feel the weight of his cock in your mouth. So you took him back in, this time bobbing your head, your lips dragging against the sensitive skin of his cock while your tongue worked the underside. 

You could feel the back of his rings on your scalp as he pressed you down. Your eyes fluttered shut every time his tip hit the back of your throat and he loved watching it. You sucked harder around him, hallowing your cheeks to make him feel every inch of your mouth. 

Eddie groaned, falling back to his elbows and letting you work freely on him. You worked faster, enjoying the feeling of being full. Your hands gripped his thighs and your nails dug into the skin, and Eddie absolutely loved it — especially after you were done when the marks were still burning. 

“Ah” he hissed. “That’s enough sweetheart, fuck” His fingers tangled in your hair and yanked you off his cock. 

The view in front of Eddie was better than anything he had ever seen — his wife on her knees, eyes red and teary, lips swollen and used, a string of thick saliva connecting them to his cock. 

“You are the prettiest little thing I've ever seen” he spoke, slowly, swiping his thumb on your lips and pressing it past them. “Just love having your mouth full, don’t ya?” 

You nodded up at him, sucking his thumb and running your tongue around it. He pulled out his finger, smearing saliva all over your lips and your chin. 

“Come up here”

Eddie helped you up from the ground and guided you to sit across his lap. His hand moved to your cunt immediately, fingers pressing the wet fabric to your skin as you pulled him into a kiss. When you started moving your hips, his hand dipped inside your panties, fingers diving and running between your folds. 

You moaned into the kiss, feeling him gather your wetness to circle your clit. Your hands dived into his hair, fingers and nails running up the nape of his neck to get a reaction out of him. He grunted into your mouth and you smiled — but your pride was quickly cut off when his fingers slipped inside. 

“Fuck- Eds” you whimpered, the anticipation of the day making you extra sensitive. 

His lips met your neck, nose pressed against the weak spot under your ear. “Wanna tell me what got you so worked up, doll?” 

You shook your head, actually embarrassed to admit that everything about him had been turning you on — from the moment he woke up in the early morning to grab the baby, to the way he performed on stage that night. 

His hand came down on your bare thigh with a strike, making you jolt. “Not gonna tell me?” 

“Can’t” you spoke, concentrated on the feeling of his fingers inside you. Eddie hummed, as if to say why not? “T’s embarrassing” 

“Embarrassing? You seemed so confident just minutes ago, how are you embarrassed now?” he teased, whispering to your neck. 

“Eddie” you whined, letting your hand dive under his shirt, fingers running against the warm skin. 

“Let’s make a deal, then. I’ll fuck you really hard into the mattress, make you cum real nice, cry a little and then, later, when you’re too fucked out to care, you tell me. How about that?” 

You nodded, but only because you didn’t want him to stop touching you. His thumb was pressing on your clit as his fingers curled up inside you, every twitch of your hips being almost too much as you approached the edge of pleasure. Your eyes fell shut as Eddie worked your neck, thighs closing around his wrist as you came. 

He waited a couple seconds, watching you ride every last wave of pleasure, before pushing you off his lap. “Bed. On your knees, face on the pillows. Want you arched pretty for me, yeah?”

You nodded, watching him stand too, before taking your spot on the bed. You could hear his clothes hit the floor as you waited impatiently for his touch back on you. But Eddie loved to tease you, prove that he had much more control than you. 

“Don’t move” was all he said before you heard the door open. 

You blindly obeyed, only hearing shuffling and footsteps coming from outside the room as you waited. By the time Eddie came back you could already smell the smoke of his cigarette. 

You felt his body behind yours, hand running up your calves and your thighs before his finger tugged on your thong and snapped the band against your skin. A cloud of smoke formed in the room as his hands kept exploring your body, pulling your underwear down, fingers running through the wet folds, teasing your asshole, your clit — everything to make you squirm. 

He walked over to the nightstand, stubbing his half smoked cigarette down on the ashtray. You watched as he moved, body completely bare. Eddie looked right back at you, hand reached out to brush your hair. 

“Prettiest doll” he whispered before taking back his spot behind you. 

His fingers swiped between your lips one last time before bending over to do the same with his tongue. His warm mouth touched your cunt, hands spreading your cheeks apart to lick into you, lapping all the way from your clit to your asshole. Your hand reached back for his hair, pressing him closer — but Eddie quickly grabbed for your wrist, reaching for the other to join them behind your back. 

Eddie only pulled away when he couldn’t take neglecting his cock anymore. His hand came down on your ass again, just as his tip pressed against your hole. Your hands reached back, searching for his, he grabbed your wrists again, wrapping a single hand around them. 

“Eds” you sighed, pushing back on him. 

“ ‘M right here, sweetheart” he whispered, free hand caressing your thigh as he pushed in. 

You sighed at the feeling of being full again, breath shaking. Eddie was slow, careful at first, like always, he liked to ease you into it, feel you take his cock. He folded his body over yours, free hand moving your hair out of your neck before resting right beside your head. 

“Ready, pretty girl?” 

You nodded against the pillow and felt Eddie pull away from you. His hand spread your cheeks to watch as you took him in. Then he was merciless, fucking into you, hips snapping hard and making you jolt forward. 

You melted further into the mattress as Eddie pressed you down, making your back arch even more. His thrusts were deep, almost overwhelming, peering into pain every time his tip met your cervix, but the tears in your eyes were from pleasure. 

Your legs started to give out, your hips swaying slightly. Eddie noticed and pushed you flat on the bed. His hand moved from your wrists to your upper back, still pressing you down onto the mattress. His hips seemed to snap even harder, his heavy weight on top of you only adding to the feeling of being used. 

“Eds” you moaned against the bed, hands reaching down to feel his thighs.

He knew you were getting closer — your pants, moans and desperate hands giving you away. His hand held on to the head board so he could lower himself down, mouth pressing against your hair, “feel good, doll? Gonna come for me?”

You could only nod, any attempt of speaking was cut off by whiny moans. You could feel the build coming way too fast, suddenly the rhythmic thrusts turned into a perfectly sharp feeling that had you gripping Eddie’s tattooed thighs. 

Eddie didn’t let up, he kept fucking into you, pressing you into the mattress until he felt your cunt clenching around him. Your legs kicked in the air behind him, your mouth parted with a moan before you bit down on the pillow. 

If you weren’t so fucked out, you would’ve noticed how your husband’s moves shifted, getting deeper and more deliberate, his breath coming in short pants. But you only came back down when he pulled out, quickly moving off you and flipping your body on your back. 

“Fuck, baby, gonna make a mess on you. Wanna see you covered in my cum” 

You watched, hazy minded, as he fisted his cock above you, aiming on your stomach. But when he came, the white ropes reached all the way up to your face. You looked up at him, barely a thought in your mind as he grunted, milking his cock until the last drop met your skin. 

Your eyes were shut, and your mind distant, but you felt his hands roughly running down your body as he admired his work — your painted skin and the stained garter. 

“You look so perfect, sweetheart. Look at you, all fucked out.” His hand gripped your face, turning it to him, “open your eyes, baby. Let me see you.” It took every last drop of energy in your body, but you opened them, looking up at him. “Perfect. Feel good?”

You nodded, eyes already closing again as a soft smile took over your face. Eddie wiped your tears away, smudging black all over your cheeks. 

As much as he hated to leave you even for a second when you were like that, you needed to be taken care of. So Eddie pulled away, reached for a tissue on your nightstand to wipe the drying cum off your skin before whispering lowly ‘ll be right back. 

You were still drifting in and out of the hazy, sleepy state when he came back with a glass of water.

“Doll” he called gently, kissing your face, “need you to have some water, yeah? Sit up for me”

He helped you sit up, but all you wanted to do was be as close as possible, so he sat against the headboard, letting you rest on him. You took the water, drinking as he watched every move. 

“Stop staring” you mumbled, but he shook his head, “You look like a creep”

“Can’t look at my fucked out wife anymore?”

“No. Maybe. If you get me something to eat” you teased but you really didn’t want him to leave. 

“I can do that. If you answer my question.” You looked up at him, confused for a second before you remembered. 

“No”

“No? Do I need to fuck you again to get my answer? What got you so worked up, huh?”

You hid your face in his neck, impulsively kissing the skin there. His arm wrapped around you to caress your bare thigh. 

“Nothing much” you admitted, whispering to his skin. “Just… the way you were holding Scarlett, and ordering people around. And your jeans were way too tight”

He hummed, still caressing your skin. “Next time I’ll fuck you on your back then, so you can grab my ass all you want”. 

“Eddie!”

“You’re acting like that’s not what you wanted to do earlier” he teased. His hand dived into your hair, pulling you away from your hiding spot. “I love you, doll. You know that, yeah?”

You nodded as he pressed a kiss to your hairline, whispering a quiet love you, too.

Instead of doing what you promised, you sit on his thighs, trapping his legs to the bed as you touch yourself in front of him—something he doesn’t like you doing. He always tells you, if you want to get off, he would gladly fuck you six ways to Sunday. So you fingering your pussy right in front of him is a slap in the face and a clear display of you spitting on the rules he so kindly laid out for you when you two first started sleeping together. 

He only has those rules to keep you well-behaved because well-behaved girls get to cum. Well-behaved girls get treated like princesses, not whores. But you’re forcing his hand here, you’re practically begging to be treated like an expendable whore. 

When he realizes what you’re doing, that this was your plan all along, he practically growls, yanking at the cuffs imprisoning him to the bed frame. He’s never going to trust you again when you try to tell him what you want or need in bed, he should’ve known—a girl like you doesn’t know what the fuck she wants, let alone what she needs. You need to be told what you want, what you need, what you can take. 

After a few threatening comments—“You better fucking not, whore” and “Don’t you fucking dare, when I get out of here you’re gonna wish you never fucking met me, your pussy’s gonna ache for weeks!”—he decides his fury and the looming, unspoken threat of an abused ass is not enough to motivate you to stop your actions. Especially given that you ignore his words, only moaning and mewling like a desperate slut in response. 

His jaw is agape as he watches you rut your hips against your fingers like a bitch in heat. Your slick is practically dripping onto his thighs, his cock is flexing and twitching with need every time you let out a whine. He can tell you’re close and he’s never been more livid. If he could break out of these cuffs, you’d have to run for your life—he can’t be responsible for his actions after you’ve worked him up this much. 

“You better not cum, you bitch,” he grits out, dark eyes shooting daggers at you as his hips squirm under your weight. The metal clinks as he pulls on the restraints, aching to get his large, ringed hands around your delicate neck. He’d like to see how well you touch yourself when you’re losing oxygen. 

“But I’m close–you said you’d play with me,” you mewl, eyes closing and head tipping back as you hump your fingers—wishing they were his, or better yet, his cock. 

“That was before I knew you’d pull this shit. If you unlock me now, I’ll go easy on you. Might even let you cum,” he bargains, trying to change his strategy. 

The low, dangerous tone of his voice makes you clench around your fingers. “Oh, god! It’s so tight,” you breathe out, ignoring his words, you open your eyes to meet his damning gaze. “Is this how it feels…on your cock? So tight, squeezing so hard.”

Yanking the chain of the cuffs as hard as he can, Eddie nearly roars at your words. You’re taunting him and he doesn’t take kindly to that type of treatment. He won’t forget this. He may get you back in the immediate future, but you’re going to be working this off for months to come. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, trying to buck you off of him. 

When you barely move at his miserable attempt, instead, lifting higher onto your knees, his eyes widen as he watches you try to add a third finger into your tight cunt. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” he mutters, shaking his head at the way you haphazardly shove the extra digit next to the others.

Your mouth drops open, panting out hot breaths as you try to adjust to the stretch so close to your orgasm. “Oh, Eddie, it’s so tight! How do you do this? I can barely take three fingers, how does your cock fit?” 

Your mewling question has pre-cum running down his thick length, the fat head practically pumping it out.

Eddie watches in horror as you reach your peak, hips losing any semblance of rhythm as you jerk forward onto him. Sighing at the fact that there’s nothing he can do, he mutters out a disdainful, “You evil fucking woman.” 

Suffering the aftershocks of your orgasm, you fall onto his chest, trapping his erection beneath your hot body. Eddie hisses at the pressure on his cock—he’s incredibly sensitive since you haven’t touched him at all for the past twenty-five minutes, too busy slowly edging yourself over the cliff. 

He can feel your wet fingers grabbing at his chest as you nuzzle into him like a tired cat. You’re so close he can smell your hair, and even worse, he can smell your arousal all over your hand. Trying to breathe through the rage, he stares straight ahead at the bedroom wall, imagining every awful thing he’s going to do to you over the next—probably six—months, in punishment, as you cling to him needily.

Closing your eyes in exhaustion, through huffing breaths, you mumble into his chest, “Oh, Eddie, that was so good. Oh my god, that was so good.” 

Eddie’s frown deepens as he shifts his eyes to the top of your head, unable to see your face, he can feel the way you softly rub your cheek against him—an affection he recognizes from your usual post-orgasm aftercare. He knows you well enough to know you’re coming down, separating from the scene that just transpired. A ghost of smirk graces his lips as he realizes he can use this to his advantage. 

“Yeah, that was so good, baby,” he coos sweetly, agreeing with your soft mumbles. It’s a momentary struggle to inflect kindness into his voice—he’s feeling so vengeful—but if he’s going to reap the revenge, he needs to play nice. 

His eye twitches as you ask your next question, “Did you have fun?” When he feels you start to shift, he forces softness into his eyes, brandishing a pleasant smile as he meets your hopeful gaze. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, so much fun,” he promises, glancing down at your neck just begging to be squeezed. 

Your smile broadens as a hazy look takes over your eyes, “Good. I’m glad you liked it. Maybe we can do this more often.”

The idea of ever doing this again has his jaw clenching. His smile turns into baring teeth, but you don’t seem to notice in your orgasmic trance. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You hum, sitting up to rub your hands on his warm chest, admiring his naked body on full display. When you don’t seem to be in a rush to unlock him, his forced patience starts slipping. “You gonna let me outta here, honey?” He tries to ask the question as lightheartedly as possible, but he must not have done a good job because your smile drops a little. 

Meeting his eyes with a worried look, you try to get a read on him. “Are you sure you had fun? You’re not mad at me?” 

You’re practically pouting by the time you finish your questioning—it only makes him more rabid. You’re going to have a hell of a lot more to pout over once he gets his fucking hands on you. 

“No, baby,” he assures, “Of course, I had fun. Who wouldn’t have fun with such a pretty girl on top of ‘em?” Him. He wouldn’t. He didn’t. The shit you pulled tonight is probably something a  limp-cocked cuck would enjoy—and he’s sure as shit not that. 

Shyly avoiding his rapt attention, your face warms at the compliment. You’re so glad he’s not upset at you, you just wanted to try something a little different. 

The second your bright eyes drop from his, he lets the kindness fall from his face. His hateful gaze burns holes into your soft features as you fiddle with your fingers.

“I’m sorry I lied,” you mutter, almost ashamed. Good, he thinks. But you’re going to feel a lot more than shame when he’s done with you. “But I knew you wouldn’t wanna play if I told you what I really wanted to do.” Damn right.

You’re still sitting on his naked body, so close to his aching cock—it’s just another form of torture at this point. No apology you give him will make up for what you’ve done, or lessen the pain he’s going to inflict on you once he’s free. 

“I understand, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

With his gentle reassurance, you glance at his achy, leaking cock; he follows your eyesight as his shaft gives an uncontrollable twitch at the attention. Watching the cogs turn in your brain, he makes sure to fix his face when he sees your head moving, your eyes catching his gaze again. 

“Can I suck you off, now?” Oh, now you want to ask for permission? You had no problem doing things your way when you finger-fucked yourself on top of him. 

Letting his tongue explore the inside of his mouth, he pretends to think. “Hm, I don’t know. I think I deserve to be freed first.” He flexes his hands; the jingle of metal draws your attention back to his current predicament. You look surprised at the reminder—almost like you forgot. He definitely didn’t. 

“Oh, yeah, of course! Sorry,” you utter, a rueful smile spreading across your lips. 

Eddie watches your slow movements—like a predator hunting its prey—as you swipe the key off the bedside table. “‘S okay,” he whispers, his breath fanning across your cheek, his eyes burning a hole into you as you lean over him to unlock his hands.

The second they’re both free, his left hand goes flying to your neck, squeezing it and shoving you down onto your back. A squeal tears from your throat at the sudden attack, “Eddie!” 

Pinned under his large palm and heavy body, you grab at his wrist, trying to get him to loosen his grip. Your brows are pinched as you choke for breath, eyes never leaving his. You’ve never seen him so angry—the daggers his muddy irises throw at you send you reeling.

“Did you really think I’d let you off for that shit?” he grits, baring his teeth as he leans down into your sputtering face. “You’re in big fuckin’ trouble, sweetheart. I wasn’t kidding, you’re gonna wish you never met me the way I’m gonna make you hurt.”

He glances down between your warm bodies, lining his cock up to your entrance with his other hand. At the strained breaths you press out, he realizes you’re trying to speak. He’d love to hear what useless defense you conjure up, so he loosens his grip around you just enough for haggard breaths to wrack through your chest. 

“I thought you said you liked it,” you cry, tears welling in your eyes. You thought everything was sorted—there were no hard feelings—you’d pleasure him, and everything would be fine again. 

Eddie scoffs as you let out another squeal, this time at the way he sinks his full length deep into your cunt—all in one go, unlike his usual, steady process. “No, I didn’t fuckin’ like it,” he spits out, giving you another punishing pinch around your throat. “You sat there taunting me while you fucked your fingers like a dirty whore. You think that’s what I consider ‘fun’?”

Pulling back, he pounds his cock into you, surely bruising your walls with every rough pass. Your pussy is already so sensitive from your orgasm that you can’t help the scream that flies past your lips at his harsh penetration. 

“B–But–” you struggle to string together your words—let alone thoughts. He’s taking you in such an impassioned way—the passion being rage—you can barely catch your breath. 

“But, but–” he mocks, “Spit it out!”

Whining as he smacks your thigh, you feel his rough hand traveling up your body and landing at your breasts. You whimper as he gropes you so firmly, it almost hurts. He’s still pinning you to the bed with his other hand, not allowing you much squirming room as his hips jolt you with every buck. 

“B–But you always say you want me to enjoy myself,” you defend with a wail, hot tears well and truly pouring from your eyes—you’re so sensitive and overstimulated. You genuinely did not mean to cause such an upset, you just wanted to push his buttons a little. Now you’re trying to understand where you crossed the boundary of fun, sexy dynamics to ‘your ass is mine for what you did.’ But you want him to take what he needs; you want him to take you, body and soul, so long as he forgives you by the end of it. You hate when he’s upset at you, it always makes you cry and feel all needy. 

“Yeah on my cock. Not on your fucking fingers. You knew the rules, sweetheart, and you broke them anyway. Now you gotta pay for it.”

Moaning at a particularly deep thrust, you cry harder at his reminder of your deplorable actions. You initially thought it was all in good fun, but he seems to think differently and you’re inclined to believe him. “I’m sorry, Eddie! I’m sorry, please forgive me,” you beg, brows pinched in anguish as you try to meet his eyes.

When all you see is ire in his pretty brown irises, you heave out a wrecked sob—you never meant to be so bad for him.

“Cry all you want, baby, you deserve this and so much more,” he grits, reaching down to pinch your clit.

You scream at the twinge of pain and pleasure it gives you, your clit is already the most sensitive place on your body and now it’s even worse after you so foolishly played with yourself in front of him. His cock is so thick as it barrels into your abused pussy, you’re brought back to your taunting—how you stuffed three fingers into your hole and just that was a tight fit. You’d wonder how you’re taking his cock right now, but it’s less that you’re taking it, rather he’s forcing your pussy open, compelling your folds to suck him in—but it’s nothing you don’t deserve.

Watching the tears run down your temples and hearing you mewling cries has Eddie’s hips stuttering. “Fuck–my cunt, my fucking cunt,” he chants, fucking his ownership into you. 

A guttural moan emanates from deep within you as he hooks his arm around your knee, pressing your thigh to your abdomen—he’s so far inside you it feels like he’s everywhere in your body at once. 

“Oh, you’re fucking mine, you’re so fucking mine, baby.” 

His words almost sound like he’s damning you to a lifetime with him. The sliver of possessive affection in his groans has you preening, needing more. He could do a million mean things to you, but if he tells you you’re his just once, you could die happy, feeling loved. Desperately clinging to the little bit of positivity, you fervently nod your head. “Yours, yours, Eddie,” you pathetically assure—as if he needs your opinion on the subject of who you belong to. 

“Ah, fuck, y’squeezin’ the life outta me, sweetheart. I fuckin’ knew your fingers couldn’t do the job the way I can.” 

“Yes, yes you’re so good, you feel so fucking good, Eddie! Was thinking of your cock the whole time!”

Despite his own reference to your previous actions, your attempt to encourage him seems to backfire as just another reminder of the broken rules. 

“Shut the fuck up and take it, bitch. Gonna fuck my cum so far up into you, I’m gonna be drippin’ outta you for the next two weeks.”

You nod your head, unable to hold back the whine that tumbles past your lips at his promise. 

Eddie’s not happy with how tight you’re squeezing him—he’d prefer your walls milk the cum out of him and right now, you’re not at that level of vice grip. In an effort to rectify the situation, he untangles his arm from around your leg—the pressure of his body keeping it in place—and pinches your clit again, but this time he doesn’t let go. It’s like he’s holding the little button hostage between his forefinger and thumb, manually forcing you to clench down onto him.

Your screams cover up his stuttering groans; the pain outweighs the pleasure so, although your walls are pulsing around his throbbing cock, you can’t seem to cum. Which is exactly what Eddie wants. Cumming is a privilege, and you gave that up the moment you started touching yourself. 

“Oh, shit, this fuckin’ pussy. Oh fuck!” The grip on your neck feels heavier as he loses himself in your wet heat. With another groan and harsh buck of his hips, he blows his load deep into your cunt. Your walls are truly milking him for everything he’s got as he maintains his demanding grip on your clit. When he finally releases the little bud, your screams fall to whimpers in his ear as he collapses onto your heaving chest. His grip on your neck still remains, but it’s far lighter now.

After catching his breath and reveling in your silent cries, he pulls out and off of you. He shoots you a firm look, though, much less angry now. “You’ve been so bad, sweetheart.” 

You crumble under his disappointed eyes, a few extra tears glide down the well-worn treks. “I’m sorry, Eds. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you whine, imploring him. 

He doesn’t believe you because he knows it’s not the truth—you certainly meant to be bad. You just didn’t mean to get punished. Choosing not to dignify your cries with a response, he shifts his gaze to the cum oozing out of your gaping, pulsing hole. That’s a welcome sight, at least. A well-bred cunt can lighten up any of his darkest moods—he’s always said that. 

Reaching down, he swipes four fingers along your slit, gathering as much of his spend onto his hand as he can. Flinching at the hot touch on your sensitive folds, your eyes widen as he appears to take a moment, considering the juices on his fingers. Before you have a chance to ponder what he’s thinking about, you feel a harsh, wet slap against your face. 

A humiliating whimper leaves your throat as the slapping sound reverberates around the room, making your pussy clench, only pushing more cum out. Embarrassed by your need to squeeze your thighs for relief, you sniffle. Your cheek feels like it’s on fire as you turn back to meet his unyielding gaze.  “Don’t you ever pull that shit again,” he grits out, “You hear me?” 

Quickly nodding your head, more tears well up. Just your luck. You’ve got his cum and your slick spread across your face in a lewd smear, why not add a few tears to the mix too? 

Unconsciously, you pull your head back into the bed, turning it like you’re about to rub your check against your bare shoulder. Eddie’s razor sharp gaze catches you in the act, his hand shooting to grasp your jaw, effectively halting your movements. 

“Keep it,” he orders. “Makes y’look prettier.” 

You melt under his praise, the tears start falling again. You’re so emotional, he’s got you all over the place. You’re hanging off of every mean word, hoping the next one shows any semblance of kindness. 

When Eddie starts shuffling off the bed, you match his movements, trying not to visibly cringe at the feeling of his spend seeping out of you. You’re about to head to the bathroom when his biting tone pins you to your place. 

“Where d’you think you’re going?” 

You now know better than to clean your face, especially after he painted it so nicely, but you were hoping to solidify yourself on his good side again by wetting a towel with warm water and offering to clean him up. 

“‘S gonna get a towel,” you mumble, looking at him with wide eyes. 

Cocking his head, he questions you further, “Did I say I was done with you?” 

Your mouth parts slightly in surprise—of course you fucked up again. “I was jus’–”

Dropping his voice an octave, he slowly repeats himself with a frown, “Did I say I was done with you?” 

Hurrying back over to him, you shake your head, “No, sir.” 

He can tell he’s got you now—you’ve pulled out the ‘sir’ and everything. Sitting on the end of the bed, he glances to his lap then back to you, drawing your eyes to his thighs. “Lay down,” he orders. 

Monitoring your every move, he watches as you carefully lay your naked body across his knees. “Good girl.” He has to force the smirk away from his face when he catches the edge of your brows lifting at the praise. Cute. You think you’re getting back on his good side. Not yet. 

“How many do you think you deserve?”

“What?” Your eyes search the carpeted ground for an answer, he’s never asked you how many smacks you should get. Usually, he comes up with some arbitrary number—well, arbitrary to you, targeted to him—and that’s what he works with. But now he’s giving you a choice and it feels like a trap. 

Impatient at your confusion, he reiterates the question, voice firm, “How many…do you think you deserve?” He decides that if you make him repeat himself one more time tonight, he’s going to triple the number he has in his head. 

You could say a number and risk his cruel, mocking laughter or you could just defer to him. You definitely see an easier night ahead of you if you do the latter.

“Whatever you think I deserve,” you say softly, hoping he appreciates your submission. 

Thankfully, it seems he does when you feel his rough palm soothingly smooth over your ass. “Now you’re being all sweet. ‘S that so hard, honey?” You shake your head. “I’m thinking…fifty.” He lifts his hand and grins, though you can’t see it from your limited view of the floor.

“Fifty?” you exclaim, unable to stop the reaction. 

You jolt as his hand comes down hard on your supple ass cheek. The yelp that leaves you is like music to his ears.

“Mhm, double for every minute you touched yourself in front o’me,” he explains. “You remember that, don’t you? Remember how you lied just so you could handcuff me and break my number one rule in front of me?” 

You whimper at his rhetorical questions, of course you remember—he knows you do. You’re not likely to forget what you did given how he’s reacted so far. 

“So, fifty. And you better count every single one of ‘em, sweetheart, or else we’re starting over.” 

You’re in for a much longer night than you suspected. It’s going to take a lot more than obeying instruction to get on his good side again. You wish you never even asked him to trade dynamics. 

A/N: How did we feel about this, team? I personally liked it, but that's just me being a nasty whore. Like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed!

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Eddie padded over to where you stood at the stove, his plaid pajama pants slung low on his waist and drawstrings untied. He haphazardly scratched at the wispy hairs on his bare chest before resting his hands on your hips. 

“Morning, baby.” You kissed him softly, relishing the way his stubble tickled your chin. “Breakfast is almost ready. We got eggs and toast—”

Eddie shook his head, his messy curls swaying back and forth in indignation. 

“Don’t want that,” he grumbled. His fingers curled into the hem of the t-shirt you’d worn to bed. It was just an oversized Corroded Coffin shirt; when Eddie’d moved out of his uncle’s place, he’d brought the box of the band’s old merchandise with him. “Want you.”

You raised your brows. “Right now?” Your gaze dipped down to your own sweatpants, baggy and stained and not the least bit sexy. Decidedly unsexy, in fact.

“Mhm.” His lips brushed your collarbone. “Wanna eat you up. Lookin’ so damn good.”

In truth, this was all Eddie ever wanted: the stability and tranquility of a domestic life. He’d spent his early twenties playing in dive bars, finding women to sleep with every so often. But after a while, there was a hollowness that followed; sex was great, but he longed for something more. 

And now he had it: a house of his own and a wife who made it a home. 

“Eds…I…” you scrambled for words, “at least let me shower first.”

“No.” Eddie growled, his voice raspy with sleep and desire. “Just like this.”

With one smooth movement, he flicked off the stovetop burner. The eggs sat lamely in the pan, unevenly cooked, but Eddie couldn’t be deterred.  

“You’re so…fucking…beautiful like this.” He punctuated each pause with a kiss to your neck. “My pretty…little…wife.”

A shiver slipped down your spine as his hands trailed beneath your shirt. His fingertips danced higher until he reached your breasts, cupping one and teasing the nipple of the other.

Your body instinctively pressed against his, melting into his needy touch. His pajama pants did nothing to hide his arousal, nor did he make any effort to conceal it. No, he wanted you to know exactly what you did to him.

Eddie groaned when your own hand slid under his waistband. “No underwear, Munson?” You asked, a teasing lilt in your voice, well-aware that he never wore underwear to bed. 

“N-Nuh-uh,” he stammered. “Just…fuck, keep touching me.”

You stroked him, running your thumb through the pre-cum that leaked from his tip. “What’s got you all worked up this morning?”

He choked out a laugh. “You,” he admitted, “looking all perfect.”

“I look like I just crawled out of a cave!”

“You look perfect,” Eddie insisted. He kissed you deeply before tugging your shirt up over your head and tossing it aside. “Wish I didn’t have to work so I could wake up to this every day.”

You bit back a grin. “We kinda need the money for food, electricity…”

“We’ll live off the land,” he protested weakly, still fighting to focus with your hand wrapped around his erection. “Forage or whatever. And we’ll keep ourselves warm. Body heat and all that–holy shit.” 

His train of thought veered off the track when you got on your knees in front of him. You figured he’d let you pull his pajama pants down and take charge, but to your surprise, he grabbed your wrist before you could take them past his thighs.

“I got a better idea.” 

He helped you to your feet and practically flung you into the bedroom. You laid atop the unmade bedsheets, expecting Eddie to climb over you, but he once again threw you for a loop:

“Flip over.” 

You did as he instructed, assuming the position for doggy-style. Eddie chuckled from where he knelt behind you.

“No, baby. Lay on that cute tummy.” He playfully smacked your ass, still clad in sweatpants. “There ya go.”

You felt his weight on top of yours, immediately embracing his warmth. Maybe skimping on the electricity bill wouldn’t be that bad if it meant staying like this… 

One of his callused hands grabbed your hip while the other snuck below your panties. He didn’t even need to look to find your clit, expertly pressing circles against it.

“Love the way you shiver,” Eddie mumbled in your ear. “Every time, too. Lets me know I’m doing somethin’ right.”

Right didn’t even begin to explain the pleasure coursing through you. Right wasn’t strong enough; Eddie’s touch was exquisite. He knew exactly how much pressure, the speed, and the finger position needed to make you crumble in a matter of minutes.

“Mhm, f-fuck, s’good,” was all you managed. Eddie gently nipped at your earlobe, his cock nudging against the curve of your ass. You needed him inside you, needed him filling you entirely, needed him to claim you as his and only his.

Your legs trembled as you came, moving your hips into Eddie’s touch. His stroke slowed, bringing you down from the high of your orgasm. 

“Eddie…” you whined, carelessly reaching behind you to yank at his pants. You didn’t care how his pants came off, as long as they did.

He got the message, shucking them down his legs and letting them fall off the edge of the bed. He pumped himself, groaning under his breath the moment his hand wrapped around his length.

“You want it, honey?” Eddie cooed, sliding his cock through your wetness. “Fuck, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”

He pushed into you, moaning your name as he sank deeper. 

“Oh, fuck, baby.” Eddie moved slowly, settling in before finally bottoming out. “Y’always take me s-so good. My good girl. W-Wanna mark you up. Make you mine forever.”

You nodded, clenching around him needily. “Yours. ‘M yours.”

“Gonna keep you mine.” Eddie’s hair brushed your bare back with each thrust. “My pretty wife. Wanna make you a mommy.”

You stilled. It’s not that you didn’t want kids; Eddie never felt strongly about parenthood one way or the other, and the conversation hadn’t gone much farther than that.

Certainly, he’d never talked about making you a mommy.

“Wanna see you grow my baby in that cute tummy,” Eddie continued. “And everyone’s gonna know that you’re my girl.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Mhm.” He growled, fingertips digging into your sides with enough force to leave half-moons behind. “Wanna come home and see my pretty little wife growin’ my baby.”

His hips snapped forward, burying every godforsaken inch of himself in your walls. You’d never seen him this feral before; not even after he’d worked nightshifts for a month and your schedules hadn’t allowed time for sex. Tonight was something different, almost primal.

“I-I’ll grow your baby.” As you said the words, you realized just how true they were. Nothing sounded more perfect than having his baby, one with his soft brown eyes or dark curly hair. “Give me your baby, Eddie. Make me a mommy.”

Eddie let out a string of curses, emptying himself into you with a few punctuated thrusts, 

“That’s it. Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart. Take it.”

His fingers snaked around, finding your clit again and sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. 

He spoke through panting breaths. “Heard it’s more likely to take if you come, too.”

If that was all that was needed, he’d get you pregnant right away. You came harder than you did the first time, raveled up in the feeling of him inside and out.

The two of you laid there, unmoving, until Eddie finally worked up the energy to speak.

“You, uh…you’re still taking those birth control pills, right?” He asked sheepishly.

“Uh-huh.” You stretched out, careful to keep him inside you even as he softened. 

Eddie sighed with relief. “Thank God. Because the thought of actually chasing around after a little rugrat…gonna need a second to think that through.”

“Same,” you agreed. “But we can still pretend until we figure it out, right?”

After a few years of marriage, you didn’t even need to look at your husband to know he was smiling.

“Oh, hell yes.” Eddie pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready to practice again.”

The bass coming from inside the house is loud enough for Eddie to be able to feel it vibrating through the soles of his worn Reeboks. He counts the crumpled dollar bills in his hand. This is his last sale of the night—some senior whose name he didn't quite catch and who seemed to be in a rush—either too eager to get back inside the party and engage in some more small talk or possibly afraid of being caught buying drugs from Hawkins’ resident freak. Fine by Eddie. The faster he can get out of here, the better.

House parties aren’t his scene. They've never been his scene. Honestly, they might be somewhere in his top five list of personal hells. Too many people, too much noise, too many reminders that he exists on the very fringes of Hawkins High's social ecosystem. He’s here for business, plain and simple. Make his rounds, sell his product, get the hell out before someone decides to make his night more difficult than it has to be.

He shoves the wad of cash into his back pocket, the senior already hurrying back inside with a very unappreciative 'thanks'. Then Eddie heads down the sidewalk, away from the pulsing lights and drunken laughter spilling out of Tyler McKinney's massive picket-fence house. His van is parked a few blocks away. He’s learned a long time ago not to park too close to these things. Plausible deniability and all that.

The October air is crisp, just shy of cold, and Eddie's breath puffs out in small clouds as he walks. The sounds of the party fade behind him, replaced by the quiet suburban night—distant dogs barking, the rustle of leaves, the occasional lone car passing by down the main road.

He’s already looking forward to the rest of his night now that the peskier affairs are all taken care of. He might sample a fair share of his own product, practice that one tricky guitar riff he’s been trying to get the hang of… he probably couldn’t think of a more relaxing way to spend his time if he tried. And after a long night of "business", Eddie really just wants to relax.

He’s almost arrived at his van when he sees it. At first, it’s just a silhouette on a bench near the sidewalk, hunched over, small and alone. But as he gets closer, the streetlight begins to illuminate a very familiar side profile that makes his heart do something complicated in his chest.

You.

Of course it’s you.

Eddie slows his pace almost instantly at the realization, uncertainty warring with concern. You’re crying. He can see your shoulders shaking, can hear the quiet, hitching breaths escaping your throat even from a few feet away. Every instinct screams at him to just keep walking.

You run in completely different circles now. Have been for years. But you used to be good friends—really good friends, actually. Best friends, if Eddie's being honest.

You went to the same kindergarten. Eddie still remembers how you two met for the first time and he doesn't think he'll ever forget.

Some of the kids were playing house together in the classroom while Eddie watched from the sidelines, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his worn shirt that was a few sizes too big on him. He observed their easy, seamless interactions—how much fun they seemed to be having, how naturally they fell into their roles. The mom, the dad, the older and younger kids. Everyone had a part to play and knew how to play it.

Eddie, intrigued and desperately wanting to fit in, gathered up all the courage in his tiny five-year-old body and approached the group. His voice was small when he asked if he could play too, if there were any family members left that he could be.

The other kids gave him a look—not quite mean, but not exactly welcoming either. It was the kind of look Eddie would become intimately familiar with over the course of his life. One that assured him he wasn’t quite welcome in someone’s space.

"All the roles are taken," one of the kids informed him matter-of-factly. They didn’t seem to feel terribly bad about it. "Maybe next time."

Eddie's face fell, but he tried again. "I could be the dog?" he offered hopefully, big brown doe eyes sparkling with a dim, hopeful glint. "Every family needs a dog."

But everyone had already turned back to their game, dismissing him without another word. So Eddie just stood there, watching them play, feeling that familiar ache of being on the outside looking in. He knew he wasn't really like the other kids. It wasn’t a very easy concept to grasp for a regular five year old, but Eddie also wasn’t exactly like every other regular kid his age. His home life was rough. He was too loud, too expressive, too hyper and too bad at following the rules. But knowing all of that didn't make the rejection hurt any less. He gave up after that, quietly sulking by the very edge of where all the fun was happening.

That's when you stepped out of the group.

You'd been playing the youngest child, Eddie remembers—wearing a bright yellow dress. You walked right up to him with a big fat smile on your face that made the hopeful glint in his eyes reappear.

"We can play if you want!" you offered all cheery, like you were much happier at the prospect of playing with him, a kid you didn’t know, instead of all your close friends. "Do you want to go swing?"

Eddie was dumbfounded, unable to quite believe that someone was choosing to play with him, let alone that they were the one to come up to him first. But he was also really excited and practically vibrating with joy.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes," you confirmed, already heading toward the playground. "Come on! I can swing really high. I bet I can go higher than you."

"No way!" Eddie protested, following you eagerly.

And so you went swinging together, laughing and challenging each other to go higher and higher, and by the time the teacher called everyone back inside, Eddie had found a new friend.

From that day on, you two were inseparable. You did everything together—shared your snacks at lunch, partnered up for every recess, defended each other from the meaner kids. You were one of the few kids who didn't care that Eddie's clothes were too big or that he sometimes smelled like cigarettes from his dad's smoke. You laughed at all his jokes, listened to all his hyper tangents and made-up stories about dragons and adventures. You made him feel like hanging out with him was actually fun. And you absolutely thought it was.

Following that, elementary school was pretty easy. You were just kids, after all. Nobody really cared about who hung out with who.

Middle school was a notch harder, though you stuck together. Sure, you started getting prettier, catching the attention of some of the popular kids who wanted you to sit with them at lunch. And yeah, Eddie, on the other hand, got even weirder, louder, more defiant, and more willing to embrace the "freak" label that was already starting to stick to him like glue. Regardless, you stayed by his side through it all. And he stayed by yours.

Eddie particularly remembers one day in eighth grade. You were walking together in the hallway between classes when Matthew Hayes—captain of the middle school basketball team and already a certified asshole at thirteen—stepped in front of you both.

"Hey," Matthew said, looking at you with that suave, try-hard smile that made Eddie's skin crawl. At the time, Matthew was probably one of the biggest pricks he thought he’d ever had the displeasure of knowing.

"You're coming to my birthday party this weekend, right?" He continued, ignoring Eddie right beside you, seemingly pretty damn sure of himself and convinced that you were gonna say yes.

You shifted your books in your arms awkwardly, polite but uninterested. You didn’t even know the guy that well anyway, so you thought it probably wouldn’t be much of a bummer if you ditched his birthday. "I’m sorry. I don't think so. Eddie and I were going to—"

"Wait, you're actually friends with this loser?" Matthew cut you off and laughed, gesturing at Eddie like he was something pesky stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "Come on. You're way too pretty to be hanging around with Munson the Freak. I mean, everyone knows his dad's in jail and his uncle's trailer trash."

Eddie felt his face burn with shame and anger, his hands clenching into fists. He'd heard worse before—was already used to worse, honestly—but it still stung. Maybe it stung particularly bad that time because you were right there to witness it, and he didn’t want you to think less of him. He was about to tell Matthew to fuck off, detention be damned, when you were already moving. Your shoes clacked a short few steps in Matthew’s direction.

The slap that followed echoed down the entire hallway. Matthew stumbled back, hand flying to his already reddening cheek, eyes wide with shock. The conversations around you died instantly and everyone turned to stare at the scene before them with bewilderment.

"Don't ever talk about him like that again," you said, voice shaky but firm. "Eddie's worth a hundred of you, and if you can't see that, then you're even dumber than your stupid face already makes you look."

Matthew looked between you and Eddie, jaw clenched, face twisted with humiliation and rage. "You're going to regret that, you bitch." He scowled and his voice dripped with venom. But you didn’t look the slightest bit intimidated.

"No, I'm not," you finalized matter-of-factly, grabbing Eddie's hand and marching away with your head held high, leaving Matthew and his stunned friends in your wake.

Of course, you got in massive trouble for that stunt. Principal's office, call home to your parents, detention for a week, the whole nine yards. Your mom was furious. Not at Matthew for what he'd said. She wouldn’t hear you out about any of that. She was furious at you for causing a scene and for jeopardizing your reputation—for "acting out". Still, you never once apologized. Not to Matthew, not to your parents, not to anyone except Eddie for what was said about him.

"He deserved it," you told Eddie later, sitting next to him on the curb outside school while you waited for your mom to pick you up. "And I'd do it again."

Eddie looked at you. He looked at the stubborn clench of your jaw, the lingering rage still sparkling in your eyes, and felt something shift in his heart. Something more intense than friendship, though he didn’t really have the words or courage to admit it to himself, let alone to you, back then.

"You're kind of badass, you know that?" he said, awed.

You grinned in return. "Yeah. I know."

That moment felt important, like proof that nothing could come between you. That you'd always choose each other, no matter what anyone else thought or said. Eddie really wanted that. He was fairly certain you did too.

But then high school happened.

Suddenly, the social hierarchies that had been forming in middle school became concrete and immovable. You tried out for the cheer squad on a whim and ended up making it, which put you in proximity to the popular crowd—the pretty girls, the jocks, the kids whose parents had money and influence. They welcomed you with open arms, eager to claim someone as smart and pretty as you as their own. You liked making new friends and it’s not like you could’ve kept your position in the cheer squad without getting along with the rest of the team, so you didn’t mind joining their clique.

At first, you tried to balance both worlds, because you really didn’t wanna lose Eddie. You'd sit with him at lunch sometimes, wave to him in the hallways, defend him when your new friends made snarky comments about him. But the pressure from your new peers was starting to become relentless. It was fairly subtle at first: a raised eyebrow here, a pointed comment there, but steadily grew stronger and more frequent.

Why do you still hang out with him? You do know what everyone says about him, right? You're going to ruin your reputation. You're better than that.

And slowly, so slowly Eddie almost didn't notice it happening, you started pulling away. The lunch table visits became less frequent, then eventually stopped altogether. The hallway waves became more hurried. Your defenses of him became quieter, then went silent.

Your parents were thrilled with your new friend group and your new image. They started talking about your future—college, career, finding a nice boy from a good family. The hard truth the world pressured you into swallowing was that there was no room in a vision like that for someone like Eddie Munson.

And you were so young and impressionable, desperate to please everyone, and so afraid of being different and not appealing to as many people as possible. Once the popular crowd had taken you in, it felt wrong to try to leave. It was easier to drift away because of that. It was easier to pretend that your friendship had happened to two entirely different people.

Eddie hated it. He understood, in a way. Had even seen it coming at one point, really. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that when things seemed too good to be true—in this case, your bond—they usually really were. But partially understanding didn't make it hurt any less.

By sophomore year, you barely spoke with each other. You'd pass each other in the hallways—you with your cheer uniform and your perfect friends, Eddie with his leather jacket and his outcast status—and exchange the briefest of acknowledgments. A small smile or a tiny nod. Just enough to acknowledge that you'd once meant something to each other, but not enough to bridge the chasm-sized disconnect that had grown between you.

He told himself that he was fine with it. That people outgrew each other, that it was natural, that he didn't need you anyway and maybe he took you for someone you never really were. Maybe deep down it was always gonna turn out like this and you were always gonna grow apart. He told himself that you were just kids. You didn’t quite understand the implications of being best friends with someone like him at the time because you were young and naive, but now that those were clear and you finally realized that being associated with him would grant your reputation a massive hit, you saw a chance to bail and took it. It really, really hurt. But he couldn’t exactly blame you for it.

He had other friends, obviously. He had his bandmates and Hellfire—a decent amount of people who understood him and made his life a little easier. They had the same interests, likes and dislikes and probably matched his personality more than you ever did. But none of them really ever managed to fix or replace that void he felt in his heart whenever he saw you walk past him in the halls. Late at night, alone in his room, he'd think about kindergarten and middle school and the way you used to smile at him like he was someone worth being nice to, and he'd wonder if you ever thought about it too.

A loud sniffle snaps Eddie out of his thoughts. Suddenly, he finds himself back in the situation at hand and he’s standing just out of your peripheral vision like an awkward idiot, unsure of how to really proceed.

You probably don’t want Eddie "the Freak" Munson seeing you like this. He shouldn’t get himself involved. He really should just walk past you and pretend he never saw anything.

But then again, it’s you. And no matter how much time has passed since you last spoke and you've drifted into your world of pep rallies and popularity while he's sunken deeper into his reputation as Hawkins' resident drug-dealing metalhead, he's never been very good at not paying attention to you. And he’d be a prick if he just ignored you while you’re clearly hurting.

He approaches slowly, one hand shoved in his jacket pocket while the other grips his now empty lunchbox, trying to make himself appear as non-threatening as possible.

"Hey," he says softly once he’s close enough. "Uh— you okay?"

You startle, head snapping up, and Eddie's chest tightens instinctively at the sight of your tear-stained face. Your mascara has run in dark tracks down your cheeks, your eyes are red and puffy, and you look so absolutely miserable that it makes his throat tight.

"Oh," Your voice is rough, thick with tears and surprise. You wipe quickly at your face, trying and failing to compose yourself. "Eddie. What are you—I didn't think you'd be here."

"I'm not. I mean, I was, but I'm leaving." He gestures vaguely back toward the party. "Just had some, uh... business to take care of."

You nod, understanding immediately what kind of business he means. You don’t look judgmental of it, though—just tired. So, so tired and sad.

"Are you okay?" he asks again, even though you clearly aren’t. He’s lost. He doesn’t know what else to say. For a moment, the awkward tone in his voice really makes him regret not having just walked past you.

"I'm fine," you say automatically, but your voice cracks on the word and fresh tears well up in your eyes. You tilt your head downwards and try to wipe away at the dampness before it drips. "Sorry, I'm—God, this is really embarrassing."

"Hey, no." Eddie moves a little closer. He doesn’t feel quite confident enough to sit down next you on the bench just yet. "It's not embarrassing. What happened?"

You remain quiet for a long moment, clearly debating whether to tell him or not. Eddie waits, his gaze warm and never rushing, even though the cold night air is seeping through his ripped jeans.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath. "I caught Brad making out with Ashley Cunningham. Upstairs. In Tyler's parents' bedroom."

Brad Morrison. Captain of the basketball team, all-American golden boy and not-so-secret-preppy-asshole—your boyfriend for the last six months. Eddie saw you two together in the hallways a lot. Him with his arm around your shoulders, you with your perfect smile. You two were practically the image of Hawkins High's ideal couple.

He hated every second of it. Not because he had any right to, of course. You hadn’t been his friend in years. But that didn’t stop the bitter twist in his gut every time he saw Morrison's hands on you. He wondered if you were happy, if Morrison treated you right, if you ever, amidst it all, thought about the two kids who used to be inseparable back before everyone else told you that you couldn't be.

Guess he has his answer now about the "treating you right" part.

"Jesus," Eddie breathes, a little taken aback by your admission, but definitely not surprised. He avoids your gaze awkwardly, looking at the bushes surrounding the bench instead. "I'm sorry. That's... that's really shitty."

"Yeah." You laugh, but it’s watery, sad and the least bit amused. "The worst part is I'm not even that surprised? Like, I knew he was an asshole. Everyone knows he's an asshole. But he's the right kind of asshole, you know? The kind everyone approves of." You wipe at your eyes again, smearing your mascara further. You sniffle again when you realize how ridiculous you must be sounding. "God, I'm sorry. You don't want to hear about any of this."

"No, I do." Eddie insists softly, finally gathering up the courage to sit down on the bench beside you—close but not too close, maintaining a respectful distance. "I mean, if you want to talk about it. I'm a pretty good listener. When I'm not talking too much, which is, you know, most of the time, but—"

You laugh, a small but real chuckle this time, and Eddie feels a small spark of victory in his chest. He likes that sound.

"Yeah," you say, looking at him with something warm in your eyes and a wobbly grin on your face. "I know."

The words come out of you in a fond, almost reverent manner, and Eddie has to avoid your gaze again. He only hums faintly in return. He can’t even believe it, but he’s nervous. You make him nervous in the best and worst ways.

You two sit in silence for a moment, the distant thump of the party bass from a good few blocks away providing a strange rhythm to the otherwise quiet night. You’re clearly not ready to spill your emotions just yet, so he doesn’t push.

The silence is admittedly a little awkward, because what do you say to someone who used to be your best friend in the entire world and now barely acknowledges you in the hallways? There’s also something unspoken sitting in it. Like both of you aren’t talking about something you absolutely should talk about.

"Hey, uh—it’s getting cold out here. Maybe you should be getting home?" Eddie asks eventually. His tone is careful. He doesn’t want to imply that he’s getting bored of being here with you. He just doesn’t wanna overstay his welcome on this bench, especially when he’s uncertain of how to really offer any comfort other than a measly 'I’m sorry'. That and the fact he just feels incredibly awkward still.

Your brows furrow slightly and a sad look makes its way back on your face. He watches carefully. "I... I came here with Brad. I don’t have a ride home anymore."

"Right," Eddie acknowledges empathetically. He should’ve guessed. "Okay. Well, I can give you a ride home if you want. Your house isn't far, right? Still on Maple?"

"Yeah, but..." You bite your lip, looking genuinely distressed. "My family's out of town this weekend. They went to visit my aunt in Indianapolis. And—and I don't have my keys with me because I was supposed to stay at Brad's tonight after the party, and now..." You trail off, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill in genuine stress over the situation you’ve gotten yourself into.

Eddie's brain is working overtime, trying to figure out a solution that won’t make this weird or uncomfortable. You clearly can’t go home. You probably have friends at the party you could stay with. But given the state you’re in, he’s guessing you don’t exactly want to go back in there and face the world, let alone potentially your cheating ex.

"You could crash at my place," he offers cautiously after a brief moment of silence, watching your reaction. "I know it's probably not your first choice, and you can totally say no, but Wayne's working the night shift so you'd have the couch to yourself. Or—shit, no—my room, I mean. I mean you can have my room, I can take the couch. Whatever makes you comfortable. I just—" He runs a hand through his hair nervously. "I’m guessing you probably don’t wanna go back in there to those assholes." He gestures vaguely toward the direction of the distant music.

You’re looking at him with an expression he can’t quite read. Surprise, definitely gratitude, and something tender he desperately hopes he’s not just deluding himself into seeing.

"Are you sure?" you ask quietly, surveilling his eyes for any sort of reluctance. "I don't wanna… impose."

Eddie shakes his head. "You're not imposing. I'm offering. Come on," he encourages, already standing back up with a slight grunt. He feels a newfound wave of confidence after you don’t immediately reject his offer. "It’s nothing fancy—I mean, you know that already. But better than staying out here all night, right?"

You study his face for another long moment, then nod and smile. "Yeah. Yeah—thank you, Eddie."

"Don't mention it."

The drive to the trailer park is quiet. Eddie half-expected it to be as awkward as the silence on the bench, honestly. But much to his surprise, it isn’t. Not really. You sit in the passenger seat, staring out the window, occasionally wiping at the lingering dampness under your eyes. Eddie focuses on driving and gives you space to just be.

He's turned a cassette tape into the deck, and Judas Priest’s "Dreamer Deceiver" plays quietly through his blown speakers. Not exactly cheerful music, but you haven’t asked him to turn it off yet, so he takes that as a good sign.

"I remember this song," your soft voice sounds out over the low music suddenly, startling him a little. "You were obsessed with it in, like, eighth grade."

Eddie glances over at you, surprised. He hadn’t expected you to recall a past memory of him, let alone with such a gentle, reverent tone in your voice. It catches him off guard. "You remember that?" he asks incredulously, eyes focusing back on the road ahead, his mind completely elsewhere.

"Of course I remember." You’re looking at him now, your profile illuminated by the headlights. There’s a small smile on your face despite the dried tear tracks on your cheeks. "You made me listen to it like a hundred times. Said it was going to change my life."

"Did it?"

"No," you admit, and Eddie grins sheepishly. "But I listened anyway. Because you were so excited about it." Your tone turns quieter, like you’re confessing something you’ve never told anyone before. Something warm, nostalgic and simultaneously painful blooms in Eddie's chest.

"I didn't think you'd remember stuff like that," he says, trying his hardest to focus on the road in front of him and not the way his heart stutters in his chest at your admission.

"I remember a lot of things." Your voice is soft, almost sad now. "Like that time you taught me how to play chords on your guitar," you reminisce, quiet for a moment after that. But then the memories catch up. "Or when we built that fort in my backyard out of sheets and lawn chairs. And when you convinced me to skip school with you to go to that record store in Indy."

Eddie’s surprise molds into something more fond and nostalgic. "We got in so much trouble for that," he recalls, grinning at the memory, smile lines carved around the corners of his mouth.

"So much trouble," you agree, chuckling. "My mom grounded me for two weeks. But it was worth it. That was a good day."

"Yeah," Eddie says, feeling something heavy settling in his stomach. "It was."

The two of you fall quiet again as Eddie pulls into the trailer park, navigating the familiar dirt roads to his and Wayne's trailer at the end. The lights are off, which means Wayne is definitely at work, and Eddie's old van looks even more beat-up than usual parked under the flickering front door lamp.

"Home sweet home," Eddie says in his familiar theatrical tone, trying for levity as he kills the engine. "Like I said, it's not much, but—"

"Eddie." You turn in your seat to face him fully. "You don't have to apologize for anything. Thank you for this. Really. You didn't have to help me at all."

"Yeah, I did," Eddie says honestly. "I couldn't just leave you there."

Something flickers across your face—that same expression you gave him earlier when he offered you to spend the night. Then you’re flashing him an appreciative grin, opening the passenger door and stepping out into the night, and the unreadable expression passes as quickly as it came.

Inside, Eddie flicks on the dim trailer lights and immediately starts apologizing for the mess even though it really isn’t that bad. Some of Wayne's mugs are in the sink, Eddie’s campaign notes are scattered across the small coffee table, and a few magazines and books are piled on the couch.

"Seriously, it's fine," you say, looking around with what seems like genuine interest and distant familiarity rather than judgment. "It's really cozy."

"That's a nice way of saying small."

"I said cozy," you insist honestly, though you flash him a small grin over your shoulder. You turn your attention over to the bookshelf by the entrance, trailing your fingers along the spines. You recognize some of the books from years ago—thick fantasy novels he’s read about a million times now.

Eddie watches you. When he realizes he is, he moves into the kitchen instead. "You want something to drink? I think we have Coke, or water, or... actually, I think that's it. We're not great at keeping the fridge stocked."

"Water's good.”

Eddie grabs two glasses, fills them with tap water, and hands one to you. You accept it gratefully, taking a long sip, and Eddie tries not to stare at the way your throat moves as you swallow.

You set the glass down on the coffee table as he’s sipping on his and sit down on the old couch, tucking your legs underneath you. Your skirt rides up slightly in the process and Eddie very deliberately looks away, focusing on literally anything else in the room.

"You can sit," you say, patting the cushion next to you with an amused grin. "It’s your couch."

Eddie does as you say, maintaining what he thinks is a respectful distance. The couch is old and sunken in the middle, though, which means you both kind of slide toward the center. Your knee bumps against his.

"Sorry," he mutters awkwardly, starting to shift away.

"It's okay." You don’t move your knee. You seem to be loosening up a little in his space, growing a little more accustomed after all this time. "This is nice. Just sitting. Not having to pretend to be having a good time."

"Yeah, McKinney’s parties are real ragers," Eddie says dryly, looking down at the now empty glass in his grip. "Nothing says fun like watching drunk jocks play beer pong badly."

You snort in agreement. "You've never even seen Brad try to play beer pong before. It's embarrassing."

His expression sours slightly at the mention of Brad, but his eyes seem to soften when the snarky insult leaves your mouth. "Not missing much then."

"No," you agree again quietly. "Not really."

Eddie picks at a loose thread on the rip in his jeans, going silent and trying to find the right words for what he wants to say next. "Can I ask you something? And you can totally tell me to fuck off if it's too personal."

"Okay," you answer, sitting up a little straighter in anticipation.

"Why were you with him?" Eddie looks at you now, genuinely curious. "Brad. Like, you knew what he was like. Everyone knows what he's like. So why?"

You’re quiet for a long moment, staring down at your hands in your lap. When you finally speak, your voice is small.

"I guess because it's what I'm supposed to do."

"What?"

"Y’know, date guys like Brad. Be friends with girls like Chrissy and Melissa and the rest of the cheer squad. Get good grades, look pretty, smile at the right people, go to the right parties." You look up at him, and there’s something unbearably raw and honest in your eyes now. "That's what's expected of me. It’s what my parents want, what my friends want, what everyone around me wants. I'm supposed to be perfect. The perfect daughter, the perfect student… the perfect girlfriend to the perfect guy." You say the last part with clear disdain, like it’s the aspect that bothers you the most.

"That sounds exhausting," Eddie mutters earnestly.

"It is," you reply. "It's so exhausting, Eddie. And the worst part is I don't even know who I really am anymore under all of it. I don't know what I actually like versus what I'm supposed to like. I don't know who my real friends are versus who's just around because I'm on the cheer squad and dating the basketball captain."

Eddie's heart aches. He can’t relate to what you’re saying at all and never will. A few years ago, he might’ve called these first-world problems. However, he can’t help but believe the exhaustion in your voice. You sound genuinely tired. He wants to say something profound, something that will make it all better, but what comes out is:

"I know who you are."

You look at him, surprised. "What?"

"I know who you are," he repeats. "I mean, what you used to be like. Before… y’know, all of that. Like, you used to spend hours building these… elaborate backstories for your stuffed animals. You cried when we watched E.T. even though you'd seen it like five times already. You were the girl who always shared her lunch with me in elementary school when I forgot mine." He’s on a roll now, years of stored-up memories spilling out all at once. "You defended me against those eighth-grade assholes who tried to flush my D&D dice down the toilet and—and you always told me I was going to be a famous musician someday and actually meant it."

You’re looking at him like he just stabbed you in the stomach. Your lips part, your eyes shining with fresh tears. You can’t help the bittersweet smile your lips curl into. "You remember all that?" It’s your turn to ask now.

"Of course I remember. That stuff matters. It’s real." He gestures vaguely toward the window, in the general direction of the rest of Hawkins. "All that other stuff… the perfect grades, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect image—that's just... that's all bullshit. That's not you." His tone is low and impossibly soft.

You stare down at your lap, opening your mouth to say something, but all words seem to fail you at the moment. The wave of nostalgia hits you all at once and acts as a sour reminder of all you’ve lost. Of the real, genuine friendship you ditched for bullshit that won’t even matter in the long run. You never wanted to lose Eddie. You never wanted to hurt him, you could never wish him pain. But you got so caught up in the shining promise of popularity that you ended up hurting him anyway. You feel so incredibly stupid.

"I miss it," you say suddenly, fiercely. "I miss you. I miss being friends with you. I miss not having to worry about what people think or who's watching or whether I'm acting the right way. I miss when things were simple."

"Me too," Eddie admits, his voice rough. "I miss you too. Like, all the time. I see you in the hallways and I want to talk to you, but I figure you probably don't want the freak bothering you in front of your friends."

"Don't call yourself that," you say sharply, sternly. "You're not a freak, Eddie. You're really not. You’re just... you're you. You're honest and creative and always so expressive and you don't give a shit about what anyone thinks, and I've always—" You stop abruptly, looking away, breath hitching in your throat.

"Always what?" Eddie's heart pounds in his chest.

"I've always admired that about you," you finish quietly. "Even when we stopped being friends. I always thought... God, I wish I could be that brave."

"You think I'm brave?" Eddie laughs, but it comes out shaky. "I'm terrified like ninety percent of the time."

"Really? Of what?"

Right now, of this. Of you and how much he’s never stopped caring about you, even after everything that’s happened.

But what he says is: "I dunno. Of ending up alone, I guess. Of never getting out of this town and being exactly who everyone thinks I am and nothing more."

You turn to face him fully now, pulling your knees up to your chest. "You're going to get out, Eddie. You're talented as shit. And you’re smart, even though you pretend not to be. You're going to do something amazing someday."

"Yeah? What about you?"

"Me?" You look taken aback by the question.

"Yeah, you. What do you want? Not what your parents want or your friends want. What do you actually want?"

You’re quiet for a long moment, really thinking about it. "I wanna move away," you confess finally. "Study something cool. I wanna go to a college far away from here where nobody knows me and I can just start over. Be whoever I want to be and not have to live for others anymore." You pick at a thread on the couch cushion. Eddie realizes that that’s coincidentally also exactly what he wants for himself—to move far, far away from Hawkins and start fresh—and he tries not to mentally harp on the fact that your future plans seem to match up.

"I want to date someone who actually cares about me and who sees me as more than just…arm candy. I wanna date someone who—who makes me laugh and doesn't make me feel like I have to be perfect all the time."

Eddie's throat goes tight. "That doesn't sound like too much to ask for."

"No? Tell that to my parents. They're already planning my future for me. Indiana State, probably. Close enough to visit every weekend. Marry someone 'appropriate.' Have, like, six kids." Your voice is bitter. "No room for what I actually want."

"That's bullshit," Eddie says bluntly. "It's your life. You should get to live it how you want."

"Yeah." You nod subtly. "You’re already pretty much doing that now, aren’t you?" You point out, smiling a little.

He hesitates a little. "Yup," he replies. "And look where it got me. Twenty years old and still in high school, living in a trailer and dealing pot." Eddie leans hard against the back of the couch. "Really living the dream." He snorts, but it’s self-deprecating.

"You're…happy though," you say, brows furrowed. "Aren't you? Like, actually happy. Not pretend happy."

Eddie considers this. Is he happy? His life is objectively a mess by most standards. Most people don’t exactly aspire to be in the position he’s in, and if he were someone else, he probably wouldn’t either. But he has his music, his friends, his interests, his freedom to be exactly who he is without apology or remorse. He is happy in that regard.

"I guess," he admits honestly. "Most of the time, yeah. I'm happy. Could be better, could be worse, but... I'm me. And I guess I'm okay with that."

"I want that," you retort softly. "I wanna be okay with just... being me."

"You can be," Eddie says. "I mean, it's not easy. People are going to have opinions. Your parents… they might be disappointed. Your friends might bail. But at the end of the day, you're the one who has to live with your choices. Might as well make 'em count."

You’re looking at him with such intensity now that Eddie feels pinned in place. Like hearing him say those words frees you from years of forcing yourself to conform. "When did you get so wise?"

"I'm not wise. I'm just stubborn and I don’t care what people think anymore." He grins.

You smile in return, and God, Eddie loves that expression a lot. He’s missed it more than he'll probably ever let himself acknowledge.

"I'm sorry," you say suddenly, because you feel that you’re due for a shit ton of apologies towards the boy beside you.

"For what?" He knows for what.

"For what?" you echo, incredulous. "For all of it. For ditching you. For… for choosing my reputation over you because I was worried about what others would think." Your voice cracks and you sound the most distraught you have all night. Which is a lot, considering the fact that you just got cheated on. "All of that was more than insanely shitty of me. You were my best friend, Eddie. You were—you are—amazing. You really are. You’re funny and you’re nice and you do your own thing despite what everyone else thinks. I’m just… I’m a coward. I was trying to fit in with the crowd and I threw everything we had away because I was scared and dumb and stupid and I thought that being popular mattered more than being happy, but I was wrong. I don’t think I could’ve been more wrong. You deserve someone who’s always there for you and who wouldn’t have done any of that bullshit I did. And—and I know that nothing I say now will ever make up for even a fraction of it and I’m not asking you to understand, let alone forgive me, but I just need you to know. I need you to know that I’m so, so sorry, Eddie."

Eddie doesn’t interrupt you once. He’s dumbfounded, really, eyes wide as he takes everything in. Yeah, what you did sucked. He won’t deny that or the fact that you hurt him. And he probably won’t every forget any of it, but he can hear the emotion and honesty oozing out of your words and all of a sudden, he feels that his only option is to forgive you.

"Hey, no." Eddie reaches out without thinking about it, taking your hand in his ring-clad, warm one. "We were kids. People change, they drift apart. It happens."

"Yeah, but not like that. I don't want us to drift apart anymore," you say fiercely while a tear drips down your cheek, gripping his hand tighter, also without thinking about it. "I really miss you. I know I don’t have the right to, but I do. I miss everything about you. You’ve always been there for me. You’re, like, the only person who knows the real me instead of the version of myself I perform for everyone else. You’re the realest person in this whole shithole town."

Eddie's heart is doing gymnastics in his chest. "I miss you too. Like, constantly. It's actually kind of pathetic how much I think about you." He admits, a sheepish grin on his face.

"Really?" You’re smiling now, even through the waterworks.

"Yeah. I see you in the hallways and it's like... I don't know, it's like I remember how we used to be and for a few seconds, the whole world gets a little brighter? Which is corny as hell, but it's true." He’s rambling now, nervous energy spilling out. "When I see you with Morrison or your cheer friends or whatever, there's this part of me that's happy because you look happy, but there's also this part that's just... sad. Because I remember when I was the one who made you smile like that. And I know I shouldn’t be feeling that way anymore. You're not mine—" he quickly corrects himself. "—my friend, and you haven't been for years, but I can't help it. I've never been able to help it when it comes to you."

You’re staring at him, lips slightly parted, eyes wide. Eddie realizes he's definitely just said too much, crossed about fifteen different lines, and there’s no taking it back now.

"Sorry," he mutters with embarrassment, starting to pull his hand away. "That was—I shouldn't have—"

You tighten your grip, not allowing him to retreat, and keep his hand in place. "Eddie."

"Yeah?"

"I think about you too. Like, so much." You’re leaning closer now, and Eddie's brain is short-circuiting. "Seeing you in the hallways gives me this… urge to just stop and talk to you. I’ll be stuck at some boring party with Brad and his friends, and all I can think about is how much funnier everything would be if you were there instead. But I don’t have the right to think about any of that because we haven't been friends in years and whose fault is that? Mine. It's my fault."

"It's not—"

"It is. I chose wrong, Eddie. I keep choosing wrong. Consistently. Wrong friends, wrong boyfriends, wrong everything. Because none of them are..." You trail off, and the silence between you is suddenly charged.

"Aren't what?" His voice comes out barely above a whisper.

"None of them are you."

The world narrows to just this: your hand in his and your eyes on his. Eddie can see every detail of your face and he takes them in amidst the quiet of the trailer—the smudged mascara, the earnestness in your gaze, the way you’re biting your bottom lip nervously.

He should say something. Do something. But he’s frozen. He’s terrified that, if he moves, the spell will break and you'll realize what you’re saying. Or, more specifically, who you’re saying it to. But you don’t pull away. Not in the slightest. Instead, you lean in, slowly, giving him every opportunity to pull back, to laugh all of it off as the emotional aftermath of a shitty night. Eddie doesn’t pull back.

Your lips meet his tentatively. He should be surprised. He should be fully taken-aback due to the unexpectedness of the situation. But he’s mostly just completely and utterly relieved. He kisses you back with years of pent-up wanting and missing you.

It’s gentle at first. Your free hand comes up to cup his cheek, and Eddie makes a sound he should probably be embarrassed about, his own hand sliding into your hair carefully, like he’s scared of hurting you with the gentlest of touches.

You taste like salt from your tears and something intoxicatingly sweet underneath, and Eddie thinks dimly that he could die right now and be perfectly happy about it.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathing hard. You stay close, noses barely nudging, and he can feel your smile less than an inch away from his lips.

"Was that okay?" you whisper.

"Are you kidding?" His tone is incredulous. "That was—yeah. That was extremely okay."

You laugh, soft and breathy, and kiss him again. This time it’s deeper, more certain, and Eddie feels like every nerve ending in his body was on fire. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and he gives in willingly, wrapping his arms around your waist. His grip is still painfully gentle.

Time stops meaning anything. Time seems like it’s never meant anything at all. There’s just you and him and the years of distance and want evaporating with every touch and soft sound you make against his mouth.

When you finally break apart for air again, you stay in his arms, tucked against his chest, and Eddie holds you like you’re something precious. You are, to be honest. You’re a treasure he’s lost and found again and is never letting go of.

"I don't wanna go back," you say quietly against his shoulder after a while of silence. "To pretending. To being someone I'm not."

"Then don't," Eddie says simply. "Stay here. With me. Fuck what everyone else thinks."

You pull back to look at him, and there’s hope in your eyes. "You make it sound so simple."

"It is simple. Not easy, but simple." Eddie brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, feeling less hesitant to touch you now. "You get to choose what you want. Who you want. Everything everyone else says is just noise. It doesn’t matter." Eddie's heart is pounding so hard he’s sure you can hear it. "And if you choose me, I'd say you're making a terrible decision, but I'm too selfish to talk you out of it."

You chuckle, pressing your face into his neck and shaking your head. "You're not a terrible decision, Eddie."

"I sell drugs in the school parking lot and I’m on my third senior year. I'm probably the literal definition of a terrible decision."

"No," you say, pulling back to look at him again. Your eyes are bright, clear, more certain than he's seen them all night. Or ever, maybe. "I don't care. I'm so tired of doing what I'm supposed to do. I want to do what makes me happy. And you..." You cup his face in both hands. "You make me happy. You always have."

Eddie can’t help himself. He kisses you again because he can’t not, because you’re looking at him like he hung the moon and he needs you to know that you’re so much brighter than any star.

"Stay," he murmurs pleadingly against your lips once you pull away. "I know I just said that I was a terrible decision but stay. Not just tonight. Please. I know it's scary and complicated and everyone's going to have an opinion about it, but I swear to God I will spend every single day making you happy."

"Eddie—"

"I'm in love with you," he says, the words tumbling out before he can even think of stopping them. "I have been for years. Maybe since we were kids, I don't know. I tried to move on, but I can't because you’re the only girl I’ve ever wanted. And if you walk out that door tomorrow—or even right now—and decide that this was just a moment, just the aftermath of a shitty night, that would suck but I'd understand. I just need you to know. I love you. It’s you, it's always been you, and I don't think that's ever going to change."

You really can’t help yourself. You’re crying again, but you’re smiling too—the biggest, most genuine smile he's probably ever seen on your face.

"I love you too," you whisper. "Fuck, Eddie, I love you too. I have for so long. I’ve always just been too scared to admit it."

"And now?"

"Now I'm still scared," you admit, laughing shakily. "But I'm more scared of messing up and losing you again. I really, really don’t want that."

The warm glow of the trailer’s dim lights highlights your features. Your arms are around his neck, crickets chirp outside the trailer walls, and Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever felt more at home.

You kiss him again. Soft at first, but it deepens, shifting into something more urgent. It reflects years of wanting, of holding back, of pretending not to feel what you felt—all of it comes pouring out in the way your fingers tighten in his hair and the way Eddie's hands grip your waist like you might dissolve into thin air if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

"Eddie," you breathe against his mouth, and the sound of his name in your voice like that—all desperate and wanting—makes something in him snap.

He kisses you harder, pulling you closer until you’re practically in his lap. You go willingly, shifting to straddle him properly, your skirt riding up as you settle against him. Eddie's hands slid up your sides, feeling the warmth of your skin through the thin fabric of your top, and you gasp into his mouth.

"Is this okay?" he manages to ask, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His hands freeze right over your ribs, right below—

"Yes," you say immediately. "Yes. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

He listens. He kisses you like a drowning man gasping for air, like he’s trying to make up for every moment of the past few years in a single night. Your hands are everywhere—in his hair, on his shoulders, sliding under his jacket to feel the warmth of him through his shirt. Every touch feels purposeful and like you’re trying to memorize him by feel alone.

When his hands slide higher, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through your top, you make a sound that goes straight through him. You arch into his touch, and Eddie groans.

"Oh, Jesus. You're killing me," he says roughly. He means it.

You chuckle, and then you’re kissing him again, rolling your hips against his in a way that makes Eddie see stars. He can feel every inch of you pressed against him—the softness of your thighs bracketing his, the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the heat of you even through layers of clothing. It’s overwhelming in the best possible way.

Your hands find the hem of his shirt, fingers slipping beneath to trace the lines of his stomach, and Eddie shivers despite the warmth flooding his body. No one’s ever touched him like this before—with such tenderness and simultaneously desperate need. It’s like you can’t get close enough, like you wanna crawl inside his skin and live there forever.

"Can I—" you start, tugging at his shirt, and Eddie nods frantically before you have to elaborate.

He helps you pull it over his head, tossing it somewhere beside the couch, and then your hands are on his bare skin and Eddie forgets how to think. You trace the lines of his ribs. Your gaze trails upwards to a new, unfamiliar patch of ink right over his heart—something that looks like a snarling demon’s head.

"This new?" you ask softly, fingers tracing the slightly crooked design. You’ve seen him shirtless before at various public pool outings, but the marking seems entirely unfamiliar to you. "Never seen it before."

"Yeah," Eddie replies, his voice rough. "Got it, like, a year ago." He gauges your judgement of the design.

"I like it." You lean down, pressing a kiss to the tattoo, then to his collarbone, then up the side of his neck in a trail that makes Eddie's hands tighten on your hips.

"Your turn," he insists before you can kiss further, and you pull back to look at him, pupils blown wide.

"Yeah?"

"Only if you want," he adds quickly, backtracking self–consciously. "We don't have to—we can stop—"

You silence him with another breathless, intense kiss, then reach for the hem of your top. Eddie's hands cover yours.

"Let me?" he offers.

You nod in reply, raising your arms, and Eddie carefully peels the top up and off, revealing smooth skin and a white lacy bra that, despite its striking simplicity, somehow makes his mouth run dry. You’re so achingly beautiful that it actually hurts to look at you. His eyes wander along the curve of your waist and the way your chest seems to rise and fall with every panting breath.

"Hi," you say, looking at him and smiling a little nervously. You feel self-aware under his gaze.

"Hi," Eddie echoes, chuckling. You‘re so cute. "You're so—God, you're so beautiful."

You shake your head sheepishly and bite back a beaming smile, thinking he’s only trying to butter you up. "Eddie—"

"No, I mean it. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Have been since we were kids. I used to think it wasn't fair, you know? That someone could be that pretty and that smart and that funny. Like you got all the good qualities and the rest of us just had to deal with it."

You can feel your face heating up increasingly and all you can do is laugh, though it comes out a little shaky. "Stop..." You don‘t want him to stop. You could listen to him flattering you forever.

"Never." He pulls you back down into a kiss, skin against skin now, and the feeling of it makes both of you gasp into each other‘s mouths. Eddie's hands roam your back, feeling the realness of you in his arms after years of not daring to even dream about this exact moment.

You kiss him deeply, slowly, like his trailer is a capsule and you have all the time in the world. Your hips roll against the now obvious stiffening bulge in his jeans and Eddie groans into your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip the flesh of your thighs.

"Eddie," you breathe when he pulls back and leans up to kiss sloppily down your throat, on a mission to find the exact spot that makes you shiver. "Eddie, I want—"

"What?" He pulls away to look at you, wanting to hear you say it. "What do you want, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. You gulp at the pet name. You could absolutely get used to hearing that come out of his mouth. "You," you admit. "I really want you. Please."

Eddie's heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might break through his ribs. He shifts, carefully lifting you with him as he stands up from the couch. You wrap your legs around his waist automatically, giggling against his neck as he carries you down the short hallway to his bedroom with surprisingly sturdy arms.

"Very smooth, Munson," you tease.

"I have my moments," he grins, shouldering open his bedroom door. He’s suddenly very aware of the mess that is his room—clothes strewn across the floor, dice scattered on the nightstand, sheets crumpled up and bed unmade—but you don’t seem to care whatsoever, so he forces himself not to either.

He lays you down on his bed gently and you look up at him with a painful amount of trust, love and want. This is real, he realizes. This is actually happening.

You reach for him and he leans in, covering your body with his, kissing you slow and thorough and pouring every ounce of passion he has into it. Your legs wrap around his waist again, pulling him even closer. He feels a spark in his chest at the taste of your mouth and the softness of your skin and the little sounds you make when he kisses that spot just below your ear.

His hands, calloused from years of strumming guitars, tremble as they reach up to frame your face for a moment, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. He can feel the damp tracks of earlier tears. The sight of you half-naked in his bed, surrounded by band posters, scattered cassette tapes and an ashtray overflowing with butts on the nightstand is a real, physical manifestation of every daydream he’s ever stifled in his mind.

He kisses you again, even deeper. His lips travel from your mouth, down the column of your throat, feeling the frantic pulse there. Eddie’s taking his sweet, sweet time, his hands sliding down, fingers sneaking underneath your arched back to reach for the clasp of your bra. He hesitates for a fraction of a second, searching your sparkling eyes for any sliver of hesitance. When he only finds certainty, his fingers fiddle with the clasp. He struggles for a few moments, tongue poking out in concentration, before finally clicking it open.

Then he pulls the straps down your shoulders and frees you of it fully, tossing it aside to join the chaos on his floor. The sight of you, bared to him in the dim light from his bedside lamp, literally steals the air from his lungs. He just stares, drinking you in, his expression one of reverent awe.

"You’re so pretty," he praises again because he finds himself simply unable not to.

You look away shyly, feeling both utterly exposed and appreciated under his gaze. "Thanks."

Eddie smiles. Slowly, he lowers his head, his mouth finding the swell of your breast, his tongue tracing a slow, worshipful circle before closing his lips around your nipple. A low groan vibrates in his chest. His other hand slides down your side, over the curve of your hip, gripping the fabric of your skirt. He bunches it in his fist, dragging it upward, his knuckles brushing against the skin of your inner thigh teasingly.

His mouth is hot and insistent on your skin, his teeth grazing your nipple with a thrilling edge that makes your back arch off the bed. A choked-out gasp escapes you, your fingers tangling in the wild curls at the nape of his neck, holding him there desperately.

"Oh, shit—Eddie…"

He releases your peaked bud with a soft, smacking sound, his dark eyes lifting to meet yours. They’re blown wide, almost black with want, but there’s so much vulnerability swimming in them. He kisses a burning, worshipful trail up your sternum, back to your mouth, and swallows the sound you make when he nips at your bottom lip.

He pulls away again and his hands, trembling slightly, finally focus on the waistband of your skirt. His rings are cold against your heated skin when he slides the fabric down your legs, casting it aside like the measly blockage it is. He moves with a sudden, desperate grace, trailing kisses down the center of your stomach, his tongue flickering against the sensitive skin of your hip bone, until he reaches the waistband of your panties.

He rids you of those as well and shifts, kneeling between your thighs and draping your legs over his shoulders. He finds you glistening wet with arousal. The cool air of the trailer kisses your exposed skin for only a second before his mouth replaces it. He leans down, his dark curls spilling over your lap, shielding the rest of the world away. When he first tastes you, a mix of a groan and a sigh vibrates in his throat.

"Fuck," he breathes against you, the curse going straight through your core. His hands spread your thighs wider, palms pressing firm against trembling muscles. His tongue swipes a slow, experimental stripe through your folds, and the taste explodes across his senses. A ragged groan tears from his throat as he does it again, deeper this time, nose bumping against your aching clit.

You squirm on the mattress at that, fingers tangling in his wild curls. He moans against you, the sound sending fresh tremors through your body. "Eddie—"

"Shh. Let me," he murmurs into your pussy, lips finally sealing around your clit to suck gently. His ring-clad fingers dig into your hips, holding you as still as he wants you while his tongue flicks rapid circles. Every twitch of your muscles feeds him.

His eyes flick up to watch you, lashes low as your thighs quiver around his ears. The sight unravels him completely—Hawkins High’s prettiest cheerleader and his former best friend whom he‘s been in love with forever, drunk on his mouth. He doubles down, dragging his tongue through your soaking wet folds deliberately, speeding his movements up a little. Every nerve in his body screams to devour. But he‘ll be patient, he‘ll allow you to bask in the feeling.

"That’s it," he rasps, pulling back just enough to watch his own spit glisten on you. His breath fans over your swollen flesh. "Oh, Jesus Christ. Look at you," The word scrapes raw from his chest. He sounds genuinely awed. He seals his mouth over your clit again, his tongue fluttering rapid-fire against the sensitive bud until your back bows off the mattress.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, almost yanking with overwhelm. He groans—half pain, half triumph—and presses two fingers against your entrance.

"O–Oh! Please—" you whimper, and the sound goes straight to his cock, straining against his jeans. He pushes his digits in slowly, knuckles twisting as he curls them upward and rubs, his mouth never leaving your clit. Every thrust of his fingers matches the rhythm of his tongue, stretching you just shy of enough.

He feels it the second you tip—there‘s a flutter around his fingers and a loud hitch in your breathing. Eddie pins your hips down with his forearm, refusing to let you buck away, and swallows every pulse of your climax like communion. Only when you go boneless and fully pliant against the mattress does he ease off, pressing soft, reverent kisses to your inner thigh. His fingers slip out of you with a lewd squelch.

"So good, baby. You taste so good," he praises, dragging the back of his hand across his slicked mouth. He kneels between your trembling legs, hands trembling as he reaches for his belt buckle impatiently.

Before he can undo the belt completely, your hand quickly covers his, stilling the frantic motion. His eyes snap to yours, wide and startled. For a moment, he‘s terrified that he‘s gotten too ahead of himself. His breath catches as your fingers gently push his aside. Both to his surprise and major relief, you take over the task of undoing the worn leather.

The metal teeth of his zipper sound unnaturally loud in the quiet trailer. He’s holding his breath, watching you with a mixture of awe and disbelief. When you hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans and boxers, pushing them down over his hips just enough to free him, he flinches slightly, a soft, choked sound escaping him. He‘s still kneeling on the mattress while you bow forward, his scent filling your senses completely.

"Sweetheart, you don‘t gotta—"

His protest is weak, half-hearted. He’s fully hard, his cock flushed and straining against his stomach. You can see the rapid pulse in his throat, the way his knuckles are white where they grip the edge of the mattress.

You press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his navel. He jerks as if he’s just been shocked.

"You deserve this," you whisper against his skin, your breath ghosting over him. "Just let me."

He lets out a shuddering exhale, his head falling back as he squeezes his eyes shut. "Shit," he breathes, the word full of surrender. He shifts on the mattress and guides you along gently until you switch positions—his back against the headboard, you kneeling in between his legs.

You don’t take him into your mouth all at once. You start with the tip, a slow, tentative lick that has his entire body tensing already. A low groan rumbles in his chest. You swirl your tongue around the head, tasting his musk, before taking him deeper, inch by careful inch. Your hand wraps around the base, stroking in time with the shallow bobs of your head. You look and feel like a goddamn dream. There‘s no other way to describe it.

His hand reaches up, hovering near your hair as if afraid to touch and take control. "Christ..." he groans. His hips give an involuntary, tiny thrust, and he immediately stills them, a pained sound in the back of his throat. "Shit—sorry, sorry—"

You only hum encouragingly in response, the vibration against his dick making him curse again. His fingers finally sink into your hair. Not to guide you, but to simply hold on. You can feel the tension coiling in him, the way his muscles tremble with effort. You work him with your mouth and hand, learning his rhythm and the places that make his breath catch. Just as he feels himself begin to teeter on that edge, he pushes you off of him carefully. He‘s gasping and his dick is throbbing to an almost painful extent. As much as he loves the wet heat of your mouth, he really needs to finally be inside of you.

Without another word, he pulls you up until your lips meet again in a messy, desperate clash of teeth. He groans into your mouth, his hands coming up to cradle your face, and his thumbs stroke your cheeks in a way that is gentle enough to contrast with the frenzy in his kiss. Your shared taste is the most intoxicating thing he’s ever known.

He doesn’t speak anymore. Words have failed him. Instead, he moves with a sudden, decisive urgency, rolling you gently onto your back amidst the rumpled sheets. His jeans and briefs are kicked the rest of the way off, landing somewhere on the floor with a soft thud. He leans away from you and opens up the top drawer of his nightstand, fishing out a packaged condom lurking in there. You try not to work yourself up over the prospect of him having had other girls in this exact same position before.

He tears the wrapper open with his teeth, slipping it on his shaft. He settles between your thighs properly then, his weight a welcome anchor. The hard, heated length of him presses against your soaked entrance, and you both gasp at the contact.

He braces himself on his forearms, his face inches from yours. His hair forms a dark curtain around you, and his expression is one of raw reverence.

"Look at me," he whispers, his voice rough as gravel. "Please. I need to see you."

You do as he says and look straight into his eyes, an immediate grin making its way onto your face. He looks incredibly gorgeous like this, the pale moonlight bathing his features in a bluish hue.

You’re about to comment on how pretty he is, but then he’s already pushing forward, stealing the air from both your lungs. The feeling is overwhelming, a perfect, stretching fullness that makes your eyes flutter shut for a second before you force them open, locking back onto his gaze. He’s watching you with an intensity that borders on painful, cataloging every flicker of sensation that crosses your perfect face.

He bottoms out, hips flush against yours, and goes still, trembling with the effort. A bead of sweat traces a path from his temple down to his jaw. He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling against yours.

He whispers your name in a ragged sigh. He dips his head, pressing his forehead to yours, his eyes squeezed shut. "You feel... shit, you feel so good. Like heaven." He‘s not even exaggerating. The way your velvety walls clamp down on him has him cursing under his breath before he‘s even started moving properly.

He begins rolling his hips. It’s not a frantic, pounding rhythm, not yet. Instead, it’s deep, rolling thrusts that grind against every sensitive sweet spot inside of you. Each stroke is deliberate. The only sounds in the room are the faint creak of the mattress and your shared, panting breaths.

His mouth finds yours again in a searing kiss, then trails down your jaw to your neck, where he sucks a mark into your skin that both of you know will bruise. He wants it to. He wants to see physical proof of you choosing him marked onto your skin. One of his hands slides down to grip your hip, his fingers digging in possessively, while the other tangles in your hair.

The trailer's thin walls do little to muffle the sound of the old springs groaning under the weight of years of repressed wanting. Slowly but surely, Eddie‘s movements shift from that reverent, slow grind into something more desperate. Every time his hips slam home against yours, there’s a fleshy, heavy sound that echoes in the small room and drowns out the distant crickets as well as the blurring memories of Tyler McKinney’s bullshit party.

He pulls his head back, his dark curls matted with sweat against his forehead, and he just stares at you. His eyes are wide, glassy with a mix of pleasure and pure, unadulterated shock around the fact that this is actually happening.

He rasps out your name. "F–Fuck, you’re... you’re so fucking perfect. I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind." He’s not just talking about the physical sensation, though the way your slick pussy grips him with every pulse is enough to make his vision blur. He’s talking about the fact that it’s you. The girl he‘s always loved and whose proximity he stopped thinking he‘d be in ever again anymore. And now you‘re underneath him in his bed, being pounded like your life depends on it.

His hands slide from your hips, rings cold against your skin as he pins your wrists above your head. He’s not being rough to be mean; he’s being rough because he needs to feel you and know that this isn't some fucked–up hallucination his brain is making up. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing the skin right where your pulse is hammering. He keeps leaving dark blossoms of color because he truly doesn‘t give a shit about the possible later fallout. He thrusts deeper, harder, his body tense with the unadulterated want of staying inside you forever.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he pants, his pace quickening until the bed is practically dancing with your movements. His body is trembling, his muscles corded and straining as he tries to maintain some semblance of control. But the way you’re looking up at him with your glassy, unfocused eyes is breaking him bit by bit. "Oh, shit— talk to me, sweetheart. Please, fuckin'–." He’s pleading. He just really needs to hear your voice.

Your jaw slacks. You can feel your orgasm coming on. That and a creeping, gnawing guilt for how you’ve hurt him with your decisions. You can physically sense the weight of every time you chose a preppy asshole over your best friend pressing down on you. It all comes crashing down along alongside the pleasure and it’s an overwhelming, suffocating tide of emotion that forces the air from your lungs in a high-pitched sob. You reach up, your fingers digging into the sweat-slicked skin of his shoulders, pulling him down until his ear is pressed against your lips.

"I love you, Eddie," you chant, the words tumbling out of you in a frantic, vocal flood that matches the pulse of your body tightening around him. "I love you. I love you... I’m sorry, I’m sorry—" The apology is a raw, strained thing that cuts through the haze of the moment. You’re crying now for likely the millionth time tonight. You repeat the words over and over, desperate for him to hear the genuine, undeniable regret coarsing through you. You’ve been such a coward, hurting him when he’s always been there for you. And the fact that he’s here, towering over you, holding you and making you feel things you‘ve never even dreamt of feeling before, makes the tears flow even quicker.

Eddie lets out a groan that serves as a visceral reaction to your words. Hearing you apologize—hearing the girl who was the only bright spot in his miserable childhood say she loves him while she’s coming apart under him—is simply too much. He doesn't want your apologies; he wants you. You‘re all he‘s ever wanted.

He redoubles his efforts, his thrusts becoming heavy and punishingly deep like he‘s trying to physically drive the guilt out of you, his teeth sinking into his own bottom lip to keep from sobbing himself.

"Don't—shit, don't say you're sorry," he gasps, his voice cracking as he catches your face in his hands, his rings biting into your skin. "Just stay. Just—ah—stay with me." He’s right on the edge now, his body vibrating with the force of his own impending peak.

He can see you unraveling, the apologies catching in your throat and your eyes searching his for a forgiveness he already gave you the second he saw you crying on that bench. He needs to push you over that final precipice. He needs to drown out your regret with a pleasure so absolute that you won't be able to remember anything except how fucking good he‘s making you feel.

He shifts his weight, one arm braced beside your head to keep from crushing you, while his other hand slides down through where your joined bodies connect. His calloused fingers find your clit, sensitive and swollen from your earlier orgasm, and begin to work it ruthlessly.

"Cum for me," he pleads, his voice a whiny vibration that shivers down your spine. "Give it to me. Need’a feel you cum around me—God, please. Cum with me, sweetheart."

You’re continously repeating his name now, your apologies melting into a frantic, breathless litany of "Eddie, Eddie, please." The combination of his weight on top of you, the depth of his length inside of you and the relentless friction of his fingers over your most sensitive spot is the final straw.

You arch your back, your fingers clenching so hard into the muscles of his shoulders that your nails leave crescent indents into his skin. The release hits you unlike anything ever has before. It’s a blinding explosion of sensation that radiates from your core and, even if only momentarily, washes away the lingering sting of those years of silence. You’re shaking, your walls spasming around him in tight, rhythmic pulses that feel like they're trying to pull him even deeper. Eddie watches it all and doesn‘t blink once, his eyes wide and glassy, relishing in the sight of you completely undone by him.

That tight, desperate clenching of your body shatters his own fragile restraint. He thrusts and buries himself as deep as he can possibly go, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as his own climax rips through him. It’s a stellar, exhaustive release, every ounce of his longing and frustration and love pouring out of him and into you. He’s gasping for air, his body heavy and trembling as he collapses against you, careful to shift his weight to his elbows as to not crush you but needing the contact, needing the reassurance that you’re still there, beneath him, real and breathing and finally, finally where you were always supposed to be.

The following silence is thick, interrupted only by the sound of two sets of lungs trying to remember how to work. Eddie doesn't move for a long time, hiding his face in the curve of your neck. He feels the cooling dampness of your tears and sweat, and then he pulls back just enough to look at you. His expression is familiarly soft. He reaches up, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your forehead. Your hair is a mess, your makeup completely smudged from earlier tears and kisses, and you've never looked more perfect to him.

You have a shit ton of things to talk about. You have to figure out how you‘re going to be moving forward—whether or not anyone will know about you, whether or not you’re fully ready to escape the confines of peoples’ expectations and the sparkling reputation you’ve constructed around yourself yet. What you do know, though, is that you‘ve learned from your mistakes, and you want Eddie by your side through it all. You‘re sick of having to pretend otherwise.

You know it had to be him. Despite everything, it was always going to be him.

© linkykirby. All content is original and written by me. Please don’t repost, copy, or redistribute my work without explicit consent.

⸝⸝

Eddie Munson prided himself on being the freak in and out of the bedroom. He was wild, messy, and always ready to push things a little further than the “vanilla” guys you could’ve been with. He loved dirty talk, wasn’t shy about hair pulling, and even owned a pair of handcuffs he thought made him the king of kink.

Then he found out his girlfriend was way filthier than him.

It started small—your breathless little please, Daddy slipped during sex one night. Eddie nearly came on the spot, thinking you didn’t even know what you'd said. But when he teased you about it later, you turned pink and admitted you liked it. That cracked the door open. The more he prodded, the more he uncovered. You liked bondage, being held down, being completely at his mercy. You liked the thrill of possibly being caught in public places. You liked it rough—bruises blooming under his fingers, her body bent and begging. You even whispered one night that you loved the thought of him filling you up and keeping you there—breeding you.

For once, Eddie was stunned silent. He thought he was the kinky one, but you were miles ahead of him, hiding it under your sweet, everyday softness.

After the shock wore off, he leaned into it with a devilish grin. If his girl had a laundry list of kinks, then he was damn well going to make each one reality.

It turned into a game for him: casually whispering “Daddy” when you least expected it just to see you shiver, tying your wrists with his bandana to test how much you’d squirm, murmuring promises in public that made your thighs press together. He teased, he pushed, and he reveled in the fact that every time you confessed something darker, he found himself turned on by it too.

The best part? No matter how filthy you got in the bedroom—no matter how rough, shameless, or submissive you became—outside of it you were still his sweet girl, clinging to his arm, kissing his cheek, looking like you’d never even think a dirty thought. That contrast drove him insane.

"I dunno, I've never watched porn." You shrugged, thumbing through a magazine on the worn couch in Eddie's living room.

"You've-" Eddie's brows pulled together. "What?"

"I've never watched any porn, so I wouldn't know." You reiterated without looking up, thinking he just hadn't heard you correctly.

"Not even a nudie mag?" He balked, eyes wide as his thoughts raced with ideas before he settled on one and immediately felt his jeans tighten. "Do you want to?"

"Do I want to what?" You scoffed, peering over the top of the page with a raised brow. "Watch porn?"

"Yeah." Eddie had a goofy smile on his face, and you knew better than to indulge him when he got like this, but you were bored, and sometimes, his crazy ideas didn't end terribly.

"Sure." You squinted at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Oh man." Eddie sprang to his feet excitedly and pecked you on the forehead before running down the hall. "Don't move!"

You dog-eared your page in the magazine you were reading and waited patiently for Eddie to return.

It took him a few minutes, but eventually, Eddie emerged from his bedroom with an armful of VHS tapes and dumped them all on the couch next to you.

"What-" You picked one up and dropped it like it had burned you. "Eddie!"

They were all dirty movies.

"Jesus Christ," You grumbled, wiping your hands on your pants, looking horrified. "Why do you have so many?"

"I'm only a man." He waved you off. "I've heard way freakier shit come out of your mouth than I ever have in one of these."

You gaped at him.

"Remember the time I was beating you at pool and you tried to trip me up and whisper in my ear about how-"

"Shut up!" You gasped, lunging at him with burning cheeks, "You said you were never gonna bring that up again!"

"You're yelling at me about my porn collection!" He defended, caging you into his lap before you could get a swat in while struggling not to laugh.

"Are you listening to yourself?" You cackled, "You're collecting porn!"

"I have needs!" He exclaimed, blowing a raspberry in the side of your neck while you squeeled, "Sometimes you're busy!"

Eventually, you both stopped laughing and just sat there staring at this pile of porn together.

"So…" Your brows pulled together. "What's the plan here?"

"Pick one and we'll watch it." Eddie shrugged, anything but nonchalant.

He was already hard, you could feel it beneath you every time you shifted in his lap.

"You wanna watch porn together?" You raised a brow, but couldn't deny the rush of warmth that spread through you at the thought.

"Yeah," he cleared his throat, glad you couldn't see his pink cheeks. "You want to?"

"Okay." You drew the word out, eyes scanning the covers of the tapes. "Which one's your favorite?"

Only minutes into the movie, Eddie's hand was already creeping up your thigh, hot against your bare skin.

You were still in his lap, back resting on the arm of the couch, while your legs were bent at the knee on the other side.

You could hear his breathing getting deeper. More ragged as time went on, and fought the urge to look at him.

It wasn't lost on you that the girl on the screen, who was already writhing on the mattress while her partner pistoned his fingers into her at a brutal pace, looked like you.

Not quite a spitting image, but the same hair. Same build.

You shifted in his lap, squeezing your thighs together.

"You alright there, Sweetheart?" You could hear the smirk in Eddie's voice, but his voice was raspy. Strained even.

"Mhmm," You hummed, dragging your fingers along his bicep absently, while his dug into the skin of your thigh. "Are you?"

"Could be better." He muttered, prying your legs open gently so he could hook them over his knees and maneuver you so that you were leaning back into his chest.

You let him, shuddering when you felt his warm breath fanning over the side of your throat.

"You paying attention?" Eddie whispered to you, trailing his hand further up your thigh as he opened his own legs, spreading you wide open so he could pull your shorts and panties to the side, running a finger up your slit.

"You are!" He chuckled lowly at the breathy whine that fell from your lips at the feeling "you're soaking wet, you dirty girl."

"Oh, you poor thing," he teased, just barely touching you while you squirmed, desperate for friction. "You want some help with that, sweetheart?"

You nodded eagerly and turned your head to kiss him, but gasped when he lightly spanked you in between your legs.

"Keep your eyes on that screen." He instructed, nudging you to sit up a little so he could get his pants down just enough to free his cock.

You weren't a hundred percent sure what the plan was here, but you were happy to go along, desperate for something. Anything.

The couple on screen had moved on to fucking and were moaning loudly as the man thrust into her with hard, long strokes.

Eddie's hands found your hips, guiding you to hover over his lap.

You gasped when he lined himself up with your weeping hole and slowly let you impale yourself on his cock.

"That's it." He exhaled shakily, trying not to rut into you.

"Ah, ah-" Eddie tsk'd when you tried to rock your hips and pulled you pack until your back was pressed up against his chest "don't move, Sweetheart."

Your brows furrowed, and your walls clenched around him, drawing a soft groan.

You waited for him to move or direct you to, but instead, he just sat there, buried inside you and still watching the movie over your shoulder.

"Eddie." You whined, squirming, "What are you-"

"Shh," He breathed into your ear, so close that you could feel his lips lightly brushing up against the shell of it when he spoke, "You're gonna sit right there and watch the movie, just like this."

You shuddered, but nodded.

"Be a good girl for me and sit still." his lips curled upwards, knowing damn well how worked up you got when he called you that. "Can you do that, Sweetheart?"

"Can you at least-"

"Quietly."

You huffed, but leaned back into him, trying hard not to move.

The movie wasn't helping.

If anything, it was making it worse.

You had nothing to distract yourself with, and watching the couple fucking was just turning you on more.

He had her pretzeled into positions you didn't even know existed, but found yourself picturing trying them with Eddie and moaned softly.

"You like watching porn while you sit on my cock?" Eddie cooed into your neck, pressing his lips to the flushed skin. "My dirty, dirty girl."

You didn't even have to answer. The way your walls fluttered around him was enough to convince him that you did.

Eddie wasn't doing much better.

It was taking everything in him not to flip you onto the couch and fuck you until you were a drooling mess.

But he loved the little needy sounds you were making, and it was surprisingly cozy sitting like that. You were so warm and wet and gripping him like you were about to start begging for it.

And God, he loved it when you begged.

He let his hand fall between your thighs and just barely brushed the pad of his thumb over your clit.

You jolted, whimpering cutely as his other arm tightened his grip on your writhing body.

"You're a needy little thing today, aren't you?"

"Eds, Please-" you whined pathetically, rocking your hips as well as you could while he had such a tight hold on you.

"Please, what?" Eddie teased, nipping at your shoulder. "What does my girl want? huh?"

Your cheeks burned.

He knew how flustered you got when it came to dirty talk when it was your turn. Usually, Eddie did enough for both of you.

"Go on," He urged gently, smirking to himself despite starting to sweat. "Use your words, Sweetheart."

"Touch me?" You panted, eyes still fixated on the TV. "Please?"

"I dunno," Eddie hummed, bucking into you just once, drawing a shark inhale from both of you. "I think you can do better than that, don't you?"

"Please, Eddie." you whimpered, melting into him, "I want you to touch me, please."

"Need you to-" You were cut off by your own gasp when he bounced you in his lap.

"Doin' so good for me," He grunted, gripping your hips to use as leverage. "Such a good girl usin' your words"

"Sat so pretty for me."

You were a mess of whimpers and mewls, completely cockdumb once his thumb returned to your clit, making quick, jerky circles in time with every thrust.

Your hips rocked as you lost yourself in the feeling, and Eddie's muttered praise in your ear between every grunt and groan.

"Eyes on the TV." He hit that special spot inside you, and you cried out, eyes snapping open just in time to watch the girl on TV cum so hard her legs shook.

It was enough to push you over the edge.

No warning. Just your walls clamping down around him, pulsating as you came hard.

"Jesus, fuck-" Eddie was frantic with his thrusts, trying to chase his own high while you were still riding out your orgasm. "Fucking love you-"

"Gonna Fill- ah"

He was rambling, only half of it registering as you felt him paint your walls white.

He held you all the way down on his cock, clutching you tightly to his chest while giving you a few more lazy, sloppy thrusts, breathing heavily against your throat, still muttering half sentences under his breath.

You both sat there, limp on the couch for what must've been a full five minutes before either of you moved.

"You okay, Sweetheart?" Eddie squeezed you lightly, loosening his grip on you as he pressed his lips to the back of your shoulder.

You hummed, tucking your head under his chin.

"Wanna stay like this for a minute, or get cleaned up?" He smoothed your hair and kissed the top of your head.

"Stay like this for a minute."

"Hey, Eddie?" You muttered after a minute.

"Yeah, Sweetheart?"

"I still think your porn collection is gross."

"I know." He sighed dramatically, biting back a laugh.

Dividers and Banners by me on my side-blog @dividers-are-us

he looks depraved. sweat dotting his hairline, curls plastered to his forehead, face split into half a grin around rabid panting.

he's shoved all of the pillows onto the floor, rucked his shirt halfway up to expose his stomach and chest because he can't bear to feel anything other than your skin against his.

your thighs burn from chasing the pulse between them, and eddie keeps bucking upwards, throwing you off your rythm and grinning when you writhe. you're so overwhelmed, fire turning over and over under your skin, and he won't shut up.

"c'mon baby, let me have it — spit in my mouth-"

it hits you like he's slapped you in the face, sends heat flooding to your cheeks and your core.

eddie whines high and reedy, hips bucking upwards into you so hard you nearly topple out of his lap.

"please, fuck, you're no- no fun. fucking s-spit in my mouth, sweetheart."

he's pissing you off, thinks you won't do it. ordinarily you wouldn't. but he's so cocky and he's not letting you fuck him the way you want to and you're half crazy with it.

two things happen, then. you rear back, spit messily into his half-open mouth, and eddie spills inside you with a moan like he's been punched in the gut.

"oh fuck, shit, fuck—"

“you’re such a slut.” you tease, breathless.

eddie grins through blurry, lovesick eyes. grinning like you'd kissed him on the forehead and brought him flowers, not spat in his mouth and called him a whore.

it's a rush of movement then, twitching limbs and gasping as he lifts and pushes you down onto your back. hovering chest to chest, eddie's eyes glimmer with determination.

"again."

you obey, gathering another round of saliva for his open mouth, jaw slack, eyes half-lidded.

eddie hums appreciatively, shuffling down.

Quietly you agree as he turns the keys in the ignition and the old engine splutters weakly to life. The truck quickly backs out of the convenience store parking lot and you watch as Eddie Munson fades from your vision with an unspoken anticipation— his leather and denim clad figure shrinking with each passing second.

The brunette clocks the burgundy rust bucket of a truck reversing away— his curious eyes also settling on the pretty girl sitting meekly in the passenger seat. He recognised her even with her head downturned and a sour expression on her face. A growing and knowing grin tugs on the edges of his red bitten lips and Eddie was certain he just found his newest little interest.

You.

The towns ‘good-est girl’, the girl that mothers compared their own daughters to and the girl soon to be..

“Who is that?” Gareth interjects as he brings a beer up to his lips to take a large swig. His tone read recognition and slight confusion.

“That,” With absolute conviction Eddie extends his arm and points a silver adorned finger at the vehicle that was now barely within the groups view, “Is the future Mrs. Munson, boys. Whether she knows it or not….”

He meant every single word.

You would be his. One way or another.

-

Sunday afternoon is swarmed with brightness and warmth. The church choir met the resonate frequency of your soul, the sound drowning out the fatigue of the previous week. It nearly brought tears to your eyes every time you heard it. Those beautiful voices— singing like angels.

In sunshine or in thundering rain, the church spire reached up into that every stretching blue sky. It was as if it spoke love into your family— it was the only time you could see your father be truly at peace with himself. The rare occasion in which he would smile with sincerity.

Ever since your mother passed away when you were only 6 years old, the church has been your father’s guiding light. A love so solid that it provided him with stability and strength.

So, naturally, he made the church a part of your life too. Hoping that it too would make you strong.

And it did, it did make you strong.

But it also excluded you from many things one should experience in their teenage years.

You hadn’t many friends, party invitations always seemed to skip over you, never have you allowed yourself to drink alcohol or smoke a cigarette and you have never partook in any sort of sexual ‘deviancy’.

Including exploration of self.

It was fair to say that amongst your peers, you were an outcast— but you were an outcast that didn’t fit in with the other outsiders. You were martian.

Which made you all the more provocative and compelling to Eddie. He had to get to know you for his own sanity. Understand you. Pick you apart.

The encounters started in the height of Spring and they continued to relent into Summer where sundresses were all you could afford to wear thanks to the smothering heat and you dearly missed the feeling of your beloved rain pattering down to cover your skin.

It sent Eddie into a feral frenzy to see you in a skirt— especially the frilly pastel pink one that allowed the plush smooth skin of your thighs to peek out just slightly beneath the hem, the skin just merely out of reach from the tips of his longing fingers.

“Where ya off to, Sweet thing?” His van crept beside you as you trodded on the sidewalk at a speed that whispered predatorial, one of his arms propped up to rest on the open window which he spoke to you out of.

“I’m going home, Eddie…” Quiet. Too quiet. You knew it would rile him. You knew that walking home today was a mistake:

You never did quite learn to listen to your intuition.

“Can’t hear ya, Sweetheart. Speak up.” A snap of his jaw, his voice is honey laced with poison.

“I’m going home.” Abruptly your feet come to a staggering stop and Eddie’s brakes scream as they slow the vans momentum.

“Jesus H. Christ—“ His head jolts with the force of the vehicle  stalling and his once soft eyes now glare at you, realisation promptly igniting them with amusement, “Ohhh wait— what is it you folks say? Never speak the Lords name in vain?”

Your stomach plummets. Anxiety is a finger pressed to your lips as you prepare yourself for whatever he may say next.

Part of you foolishly thought that you were used to this by now. The teasing, the torment— the disrespect.

How naive and stupid you were.

“Do you pray on your knees?” The engine is killed and the silence only thickens. Eddie is like a gazelle on his feet as he swiftly bounds out of the van to approach you, “I bet you do— I bet…” He taps his fingertip on his lips in thought, “That you do more than just pray when you’re down there. Don’t cha’?” Fast fingers pinch at a strand of your hair, yanking it softly and despite the gentle nature of the assault the action still causes you to yelp in surprise.

“No, stop it!” Unsteady feet stumble backwards away from him and Eddie applauds your attempt at deflection and chuckles wholeheartedly in response.

“Oh— come on! Stop bein’ such a bore.” He beams, all teeth. Wolfish. Ravenous.

An unpredicted switch flips at the sight and your face begins to warm until your cheeks scorch to a newfound shade of pink flesh.

Something foreign within you stirs— awakens.

Serene at first, its grotesque arms and legs gently sprawl out wide as it searches for comfort during its rapid occupancy of your sternum cavity. Its dark eyes shoot open with a deeply rooted and demanding hunger and it begins to shriek— that shriek lengthening into a roar until…

“Where’d ya go, sugar? Gone all loopy on me.” Sharp features appear heightened with his gaze set upon you and still he is adorned by that animalistic mask.

“I just wanna go home, please.” A pathetic beg.

A plea, not only toward Eddie, but toward the growing darkness forming within you. You begged your mind to stop, to leave the lewd thoughts buried. Let them die where they stood. However, the more you begged the more they intensified.

Doubled. Quadrupled.

Because when you ask your brain to not think about something, guess what happens?

You do.

It’s inescapable. The sin. The shame.

It’s the dull knife that twists and rips at your chest.

“I have to go, Eddie—“ Then it’s the raging voice of the one person you had hoped to avoid until dinner time.

Your father.

“Hey, you!!” His distain is directly fired at Eddie, “Get away from my daughter now!” Your father may have played football in high school but his physical fitness was now somewhere between couch potato and pensioner as he jogged his way toward the pair of you.

Instead of shrinking in fear at the sight of your father Eddie simply grins, entertained at the sight. Fierce eyes meet yours briefly before he retreats to the safety of his van and screeches off, barrelling down the street at a speed that was definitely illegal.

By the time your father reaches you he is slightly panting, out of breath, “You alright?” He keels over, his hands resting on top of his jean covered knees as he fights to catch his staggering breath, “Told you to stay away from him, didn’t I?”

“I’m fine, Dad…”

As fine as you were, something didn’t make sense…

“Why are you here? Where were you going?” You should’ve know better than to question your own father but it was suspicious— he was in the right place at the right time?

Unlikely.

“You’re usually home by now so I went out lookin’ — Do I have to worry about this Munson fella? Because I will go speak to his Uncle if need be.” A nuclear threat.

“No! No— it’s alright. He just needed directions s’all.” You were getting good at this whole lying ordeal. Becoming a real pro.

“Well, alright then,” He straightens his posture, rebuilding his spine vertebrae by vertebrae, “You hungry?” His meaty hands land on his hips and you smile softly at the action, forgetting for a moment why you would ever have to hide anything from him.

“Yeah,” Fingers curl tensely around the worn leather strap of your book bag and you shrug one shoulder nervously, “I could eat.”

-

Church bells sing, lulling the crowding sheep into a joyful trance, enticing all to enter the blessed space of mass one after the other in a respectfully calm manner.

No rush. No pushing. No fear.

Just hope.

Hope for brighter days, hope for a laughter filled future, hope for a restful nights sleep—

Something collectively shared as tired bums settled comfortably onto polished, but openly loved, wooden benches.

As the clock hands settled on 8:00am and the chiming bells softly began to fade the sound took your fatigue with it. A newfound energy warming you for the inside out.

“Let us commence,” your lowered eyes find the old maroon carpet that had been badly trodden over the last few years, evident that no amount of carpet shampoo nor conditioner could save the artefact

Today’s service marked the annual bake sale. Something widely enjoyed by the community and issued by the church to try and help raise funds for the restoration and preservation of the deteriorating church building foundations. There was gentle music and song played by generous volunteers, books and pastries all on display up for grabs and of course you would be donating— anything to secure yourself a tasty delight and the comfort of a new book.

“I’ll have the one with the strawberry on top, please!” You beam at the elderly lady, Gladice, behind the stall and she gleams back at you, pushing her rectangular purple glasses up the bridge of her nose before packaging your small order, “How much do I owe?”

“80¢ please, dear—“

“I got it,” An outstretched leather arm engulfs your vision as it hands a 5$ bill to Gladice who seems to take it with no suspicion or second thought whatsoever, “Throw in a coupla’ brownies as well, please. Keep the change.”

The ears attached to your head hear the grin on his face before you see it.

Time seems to slow as you pivot your face toward him, eyes in disbelief as his face comes into view— mere inches away from your own.

“Hi,” Chirpy, as always, “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

And it was. Until now.

“Why are you here—“

“Here you go, Petal. Enjoy. I baked them all myself!” Gladice holds out a floral patterned paper bag which secured all of your goods inside. You smile at her politely but absentmindedly and take them from her grasp whilst also trying your best to scoot away from Eddie who seemed to be looming over you like something from a Nightmare on Elm Street.

“To answer your question, which is pretty fucking rude by the way, I’m here to show my support— obviously!” Long fingers find comfort around Eddie’s bicep as he drapes his arms across his body, “You’ve clearly forgotten that I, too, am a resident of this community. Freak or not.”

Widened eyes stare at him. Half horror and half disassociation.

“You never come to church. Never—“

“First time for everything.” A casual shrug that enrages you.

“My dad could’ve been here…” Quiet and clipped.

“But he isn’t,” Devilish eyes shimmer, “Not here to save his precious little girl this time”

His shifting personality made your head spin. It was almost intoxicating.

In your mind, people were staring from every corner of the room with darting eyes and snarled whispers. FBI agents who will undoubtedly be reporting every word and movement back to your dad who happened to be laid up at home with some sort of sickness.

“I don’t need him to ‘save’ me. I just want you to leave me alone.”

Oh, if only it were that simple.

Eddie could never just leave you alone— how could he? Someone else might come along and snatch you up. He had to ensure that his spot was secure in your life. As unpleasant as it was in the present moment he knew that you would grow to love it.

Build a tolerance.

Consume him until he is palatable.

Let him in…

He just had to break you in first—

“Sorry, Bun. Not gonna happen. I kinda like it here.” He wasn’t necessarily lying, but total truth be told, Eddie found churches the pinnacle of creepy! Everything about it weirded him out. The smell of damp festering deep within the walls, like the church was a decaying corpse, the drinking of watered down and nasty wine, the way each person seemed totally zombified whenever the priest started preaching— and don’t get him started on the vampiric cult vibes radiating from each press of the organ keys.

It was funny because despite all of this irrational fear, Eddie was still the one accused of Satanism and Devil worship.

“Well…” Shoulders heave with a sigh, “Can I at least eat my pastry in peace?” You look at him sweetly with blown and bright eyes.

Acceptance. Just what he wanted.

“Sure, Sweetheart— but only if I get to watch you lick the cream off.” Total fucking filth heats your face and your scoff in response is complete disgust, rolling your eyes in a quaking attempt to ignore the gnaw in your lower abdomen.

“You are revolting!” Shaking hands pumped full of adrenaline discard of the sweet goods on a nearby table, “Now I don’t even want it.” Truly, you were utterly devastated.

In challenge, Eddie picks up the paper bag, pinching it with his fingers and examining it before his abysmal eyes flicker to you, “Ya sure?” A growing grin stretches his face almost unnaturally, a knowing smile that read, ‘big fucking mistake’.

You huff and nod, refusing to feed his wicked thoughts any longer.

“Suit yourself, Princess.” Steady fingers plunge into the paper bag, taking out the one thing you had been looking forward to all damn day. A cream and strawberry tart with the freshest berry you’ve ever seen adorning the top- crystallised in a sugar glaze just ever so slightly.

“Last chance…” His tone goes from playful and flamboyant to serious within a blink of an eye.

“Yes. Just have it, you paid for it.” Your crossed arms tighten around your frame.

All Eddie could think about was how much of a little brat you were being. Rude to him from the moment he arrives, turning your nose up at the kindness he showed you when he bought you a pastry and now here you are refusing it all because of a lil’ bit of banter.

He ought to teach you a lesson or two.

One of them being how to sit on your ass properly when it’s stinging and red fucking raw from a spanking.

His teeth grit as he bites back the cruel words that he wants to say and opts for something a lot more amusing instead— something sure to leave you and the rest of the church attendees mortified.

The delicate pads of Eddie’s fingers stroke along the skin of the decorative strawberry, enticing it to speak, but it never will. Fleshy tips skim across the surface of the whipped cream before submerging themselves fully into the dessert and bringing the sugary goodness to his lips.

“Oh baby—“ An exaggerated moan.

Everything about the way he was devouring the pastry should’ve felt wrong. But it didn’t.

Your heart beat out of your ears, thundering anxiously within your chest and you found yourself frozen like a fawn in headlights. His half lidded eyes had you so easily pinned to the spot and where it should have vexed you it only excited you further— especially when Eddie’s tongue decided to join the party.

It was barbaric.

The thirst you felt was instinctive. Primal. A need that only Eddie could satiate. You could lap him up, drink gallons of him, consume him until you were bursting at the seams and yet—

You would still crave more. The hunger would remain.

The greed sickened you, but you couldn’t look away. Vision tunnelled to only focus on Eddie and the way his pointed tongue was pressed hot and flush against the beloved tart…

And it wasn’t just your attention that was dominated by him— other members were bewitched by his actions from near and from afar.

Just as intended.

Horror, disgust, curiosity, morbidity, arousal.

These emotions were evident on the varying faces around the room— they also just happened to be a slim pick of the many, many things you were presently experiencing.

A tightness wound like a spring at the pit of your stomach. A despicable and sloppy sultry need— one that should be shunned and banished to the darkest depths of your being. It’s strength was monstrous and extreme and the way your breathing staggered and laboured had you rocked to your core.

A newfound dampness grew along the clinging panel of your panties and you could feel the curvature of your growing plumpness. Your heat swelling and utterly confused.

It was urgent— the vicious hankering that plucked at your nerves. The images your mind began to conjure up from an otherwise normal activity left you breathless and stunned.

You wanted— you needed Eddie’s thick and sopping tongue against you. Every ounce of you craved to have the strong muscle flexed inside your already dripping hole.

He was the one to ruin you.

And you would let him.

“Never tasted something so sweet…” Blackened eyes settle on your flushed face, flickering to your reddening neck which sets a smile on Eddie’s face, “Well, there may be something sweeter than this. Just not had the chance to taste her yet.”

A quick wink is all it took for you to early crumble at the knees.

You have never despised something more.

It hits you all too quickly, the realisation of where you are and who you are with. The head upon your shoulders tosses from left to right and your worried eyes briefly skim over the faces of your surroundings.

Deep down you knew that they weren’t any better than you. That their expressions, too, shared layers of lustful desire and sin.

And yet, you were chewed up on the inside. Your shame festering into something wicked and unholy.

It proved to be all too much, and in a feeble attempt to save yourself from the inevitable fall from grace, you take off to the bathroom like a fearful animal. As fast as your wobbly legs could carry you.

Hoping for sanctuary.

Praying for forgiveness.

-

The dinner table was oddly silent the following night. Like usual.

However, within the quiet, there was a undoubted shift. Something had tilted your perfect stage but you were the only one who knew about it— your performance never ending.

Mouth full after relentless mouth full.

Meat. Peas. Carrots. Peas. Carrots. Meat.

It exhausted you to chew.

“You look tired,” Your father’s heavy eyes don’t leave his plate, in fact, they are almost shielded by his thick and untamed eyebrows, “How is school?”

His attempt at unwanted small talk.

“School is good,” you lay down your fork, signalling you are now officially finished with your meal, “How.. uh.. how was work today?”

Evidently, you weren’t very good at this. Talking to him.

He never truly knew how to raise a daughter on his own. When you were born your mom and dad moved away from your grandparents and the only family you had, something about them not approving of your parents’ shotgun wedding arrangements, so your father never had much help from anyone. And you didn’t really have a female figure to look up to that wasn’t someone on the television or printed in magazines.

Thankfully, despite this, you managed to keep control of your personal style. You loved girly frills and lace, dresses and skirts. Even in the Winter, you loved it.

Pop music and jewellery, makeup and hairspray. None of it had to be sacrificed.

Your father never batted an eyelid, always assumed that girls will be girls, especially if they are becoming young adults.

So, he left you to it.

He trusted you.

“That’s what I wanna talk to you about,” Finally, fatigued and sunken eyes meet your face as he takes a sip from his glass, “I have to leave town for a bit. Maybe a few days, maybe a week. Think you’ll be okay here on your own? I can ask the Wheelers down the street to check in on ya every so—”

“No, Dad, I’ll be okay.” Reassurance with a smile.

He ponders for a moment before his stiff muscles relax back into the dining chair, “Alright then. I’ll leave you plenty of pizza money—” He chuckles lightly before he adds suddenly rigid, “—Remember to be at Church on Sunday, bright as a bird in May. I need you to hand in some donations for The Salvation Army. Let them know it’s from me.”

He always seemed to tense up at the thought of missing Church or leaving the community. If it were up to him, his job would be at the Church. He would sleep on the grim Church floor if it meant he never had to leave.

You hum a soft ‘mhmm’ and nod.

“Oh—“ He stands up, his callused hands slowly beginning to clear the small dinner table, “And mind that Munson boy,” He says his name with such bitterness, “Stay away from him, I mean it. He ain’t nothing but curly hair and trouble. Someone ought to speak to his Uncle about all the meddling he’s been doing on holy grounds.”

Your breath catches in the base of your throat and you swear that your heart momentarily stops beating.

Someone had spoke to him about the events of yesterday. Someone had snitched.

Though, luckily for you, none of his displeasure was directed at you. And as your bulging eyes settle on the back of your father head it seems that you may have just gotten off the hook. Although you hadn’t done anything wrong, a huge part of you still felt otherwise guilty for Eddie’s behaviour. He was trying to rattle you and in the process he managed to… upset… others.

You, too, leave the table. Saying goodnight with another smile and retreating to your darling bedroom.

Light fell at the end of the day, washing vibrant green to their softest of hues and uplifting purples to their most vivid. Even the clouds that had been a creamy white only an hour before were now an enchanting shade of deep rose. With the gold of dawn and midday banished to tomorrow, all that was left was for the sky to be painted a thick layer of tar black and whisper the return of the moon.

The darkness is welcomed as your mechanical fingers switch on one of your two bedside table lamps. The warm bulb is quick to warm your room and you smile at the beaded and pale pink inanimate object. Rejoicing in the memories of all the years you have owned it. That lamp has seen you weep, snore, laugh and long. Other people had teddy bears from childhood but you?

You had your lamps.

Slipping into the waiting coolness of your bedsheets you are overcome with bliss. For no particular reason, today had been gruelling. It felt busier than it usually was and at times you were left with whiplash, trying to keep up with your own mind which seemed to be close to combustion.

You roll from left to right, the bodily movement punctuated with a airy sigh as you reach for a sip of water. Propped up on one elbow whilst the other arm was occupied with the simple task of gulping down some fluids. Even in that moment it still seemed like too much effort— more than what it was worth.

Remaining upright your eyes creep to the window, surveying the small crack which parted the curtains just ever so slightly. Childishly, your mind wanders to a place filled with monsters and ghouls— horrifying beings that waited for you and lurked in the dark.

Your rational mind knew that there was nothing there, but you still swiftly switched off the lamp and scampered beneath the duvet cover with a quiet girlish giggle. Pulling the thick blanket up to your chin where it would remain for the foreseeable future.

Fists knock and misshape the pillows beneath your head harshly until out of frustration you decide to discard of one entirely and instead clutch it to your chest in a tight hug.

“Ahh— better.”

The slow swirl of the shadowed ceiling and the plush embrace of the mattress beneath your weary bones is happily familiar. The scent of recently washed sheets and the buzzing silence elicits a comforting sigh from your throat.

Eyelashes drift down, then reopen, then back down again. A state of perfect half-sleep.

The weight of the pillow pressed so close to you feels nice— like a person held to your breast.

Your grip on the pillow tightens, the soft insides conforming to every curve of your silhouette in the best way.

You shift to lay on your stomach, the pillow separating you from the mattress below. And in an unexpected, but welcomed surprise, you feel the firm corner of the pillow pressed perfectly between your thighs.

A faint tingle finds your lower abdomen and a slight tremor sneaks up on your thighs. It’s strangely comforting. Familiar, even though you haven’t fully felt this sensation before. You allow it to linger there, undisturbed for a while as your mind and body agreeably adapt to it.

Trying to doze off with your hands wedged beneath your pillow proves difficult when the stubborn heat between your legs refuses to disperse. Five minutes turns to ten and with each passing second your thighs grip and squeeze the pillow tighter, greedier.

A small gasp and a throb from within when your clit is rocked just right against the hardened edge.

“I shouldn’t…” You knew that much, but sometimes the heart— or the body— wants what it wants.

Without a wasted second you begin to push your cunt down into the pillow, swirling your hips and biting your lip. Drool dampens your bedsheets and you chew on them as you writhe around beneath the warm duvet. A steady rhythm builds, your lower back arching and compressing with each greedy curl of your hips. Messily your knees knock and knead at the mattress springs below and without warning your foggy brain recalls Eddie’s tongue.

Usually you would fight away the thoughts, but it wasn’t your brain doing the thinking anymore.

With each aggressive hump of your pussy you picture yourself grinding down on Eddie’s mouth. His plump lips ravishing you from below.

You swallow back a whimper, your eyes screwing shut and your eyebrows narrowing as the sound of erotic slick fills your empty bedroom. The noise is intoxicating and you allow yourself a soft and muffled moan into your pillow, “Agh…”

Soaking wet panties drag sloppily against the now ruined pillowcase, your muscles lock into place with the pleasure and your cunt has a mind of its own. Forcefully fucking itself against the bed, your slit over flowing through the cotton of your panties and saturating the fabric below.

The tip of Eddie’s nose prodding at your clit just enough to tease you as his tongue lapped at your dripping folds. His gorgeous brown eyes blown with lust looking up at you hungrily as he devours your aching pussy.

“Oh, Eddie…” A hot breath and a shaky mewl against the bed, desperate not to be heard.

A sudden rush of warmth grows between your quivering thighs and you push harder, groaning as hot rivulets of lust course through you. Butterflies tickle your lower stomach and a pressure dominates your senses. A hand clamps over your mouth to hush your scream and differing series’s of jolts electrocute your abdomen, your pulsing pussy staggering against the mess of your panties.

All in a swift second you feel the stress of the day wash from your chest, down to your legs and leave out of the covers. Vanishing.

There comes a steady hum of silence, punctuated by your own ragged breath as you collapse into the mattress. Tiredness claiming your mind, not allowing you to dwell too much on the name you just whimpered aloud.

-

Summer shivered beneath a storm. Rain blossomed from the ether, kissing the lips of the dusty and drought ridden concrete. The streets were no longer bathed with sunlight and now had to content itself with mean and howling winds. With a positive outlook you could’ve smiled at the heavenly split in the sky, welcoming home the pounding rain— but goosebumps don’t lie and you didn’t even armour yourself with a coat. Bare arms and bare legs.

Thunder clapped the clouds and deafened flocking birds. Every bright colour was washed dim and you caught sight of your own reflection in the grocery store glass. Every customers smile fell flat whilst you gaped at the weather thrashing outside. It was beautiful, but in a deathly way— as nature always is.

It wasn’t supposed to have arrived yet, the storm, but it was here. That’s all it took for shutters to close. Doors met their catch with bolt and chain, too and people retreated to the comforts of their homes. One cannot simply ask the sky to recheck the calendar because one wants to barbecue. It doesn’t care. It doesn’t know.

So, after grabbing everything you need, you take cover beneath a nearby hanging tree.

What else was there for you to do?

Your dad was long gone and you had no one else to rely on for a car ride home.

You had to brave the torrential rain.

Shivering.

“It’ll pass…” You tell yourself in half hope and half surrender.

It would pass— the problem you faced was: when?

How long could you endure the wind cutting at your glacial and rain soaked skin before you catch a summer fever?

Probably not very long.

Your flesh had been whipped raw and you feared the consequences of ammonia. Flat hair sticks heavily to your forehead as your soggy sneakers charge into the brunt of the storm. Skin is streaked with bruising droplets and you laugh as you bring your forearm up to try and shield your face.

It was a pointless manoeuvre but with rain so thick you could hardly see through your fallen eyelashes.

There is something about a rain covered path that is so inviting to playful feet. Each new step is rewarded with a tiny splash and puddles yearn for you to jump in them— you don’t, but you wish you could’ve.

You trudge along, determined to make it home without your clothes being blown off of you. The closest supermarket to your house was 15 minutes on foot so you knew you still had quite the challenge ahead of you.

The thin and lightweight material of your dress had been soaked all the way through and now clung to every inch of your skin underneath, accentuating the soft curve of your hips and stomach and the fullness of your chest.

This outfit seemed like a perfect idea this morning and now? Not so much…

The once grey road was now a fine black line of ink against natures greenery. Jagged brush spilled out from across the tarmac road and it was only now you realised how empty the streets had became. Not a person in sight. Not an engine to be heard.

What was recently a joyous walk had now transpired into something sinister as the thickened and plagued clouds tormented the sky above in huge twists and swirls. You were alone on this path and were suddenly struck with a low level of panic.

You had to get home.

Out of the gloom up ahead, like a beacon of hope, was two headlights that shone blindingly bright. However, upon closer inspection you realised they belonged to a vehicle whose owner was the last person you wanted to see at present.

So much so that you deeply considered nose diving into a nearby thorn bush just to avoid confrontation.

Out of mere habit your legs eventually still and Eddie’s van rolls to a gentle stop. He nearly didn’t recognise you with how drenched you are.

“What are you doing?” He could laugh at the sight of you, but watching you tremble and brace yourself on unsteady legs alerted him that this wasn’t the right time, “Need a ride home?” He had to strain his voice to be heard over the rain.

Dumbfounded you gawk at him, his blurred appearance felt dreamlike and angelic. Looking at him now gave you bags upon bags of mixed feelings.

Yes, you needed a ride home, but after what you did the other night it felt totally perverted and wrong to climb into a van with him. Here he was, in the flesh, how would you cope in such a confined space?

What would you even talk about? What would you say?

Too much to weigh and comprehend in such a little amount of time.

“Helloooo? Have you turned into a popsicle?” His eyebrows furrow with both confusion and mild concern at your lack of verbal and bodily response. You were as stiff as a board, “You’re gonna get sick.”

If you weren’t so caught up in your emotional turmoil you may have actually chuckled at his fatherly scolding tone.

He makes a sound that mimics the frequency of a walkie talkie and he speaks into a closed fist, “Don’t make me escort you into the vehicle.”

“I’m not too far now, I can just walk it—“

Eddie throws his head back at your stubbornness and let’s out a bellowing groan, one that makes your nervous stomach do a somersault.

In one swift motion and without a second thought Eddie unclips his seatbelt and prances over toward you. Promptly, he shrugs his heavyweight battle jacket from his shoulders and arms and hooks it over you. The warmth of his body heat feels like gentle kisses ghosted along your goosebump covered skin.

You remain there for a long moment, second guessing reality as your eyes take in the bare skin of Eddie’s now exposed arms. Thoughtfully placed charcoal ink blinks back at you. Engulfing you as your vision flickers from one tattoo to the next. You couldn’t help but wonder the story behind each one— Did he choose them himself? When did he first get one? How badly did it hurt?

Questions that had to remain unanswered for now. Growing more and more thunderous by the second you couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Eddie’s hair now drizzled with cobwebs of water droplets.

It was Eddie’s turn to get near drowned by the rain.

“Jesus H. Christ, just get in the van.” You pause for a moment, your eyes scanning the road for oncoming cars from left to right before you eventually decide to cross over with him, circling around the bonnet of the van and finally deciding to clamber inside— your legs were chilled to the bone and numb to the touch.

Slippery hands quickly palm at the excess water on your face, pawing as much of it away as you possibly could. Your arrival into the passenger seat is welcomed with warm condensation steaming up on the front windscreen, the fog slowly fading as the minutes passed.

“You okay?” His tone is prying but soft. Eddie is speedy to take to the road, swerving the van in a violent U-turn, but not before checking to see if you are buckled in first, “Warm enough in here?”

It’s dizzying to watch his silver adorned fingers toy and twist frantically at the ventilation dials. He always seemed to be bouncing off of the walls with energy.

“M’ okay, Eddie. Thank you.”

You couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bare the thought of him seeing through you— of him seeing into who you are and what you’ve done. Even now, with guilt caving in your chest, your mind was still fizzing away with erotic scenarios.

His swole biceps and the dark grey band t-shirt cuff clinging around the plump skin. The same t-shirt ever so slightly cropped, just enough for you to have caught glance of his happy trail of hair skipping down toward his—

Rue. Wretched rue.

In your peripheral you could see his fluffy bangs bouncing with every glance at you he decided to steal. He was trying to work you out, but he couldn’t. Not really.

Not yet.

“Hey, so uh, where am I going, exactly?” You knew he was beaming, you could hear it in the small laugh he offered you. He partly laughed to ease the growing tension but also because he was driving off without a destination. He didn’t want you to freak out and think he was trying to kidnap you.

The way your face warmed was nothing but dishonourable. How could you be so easily flustered?

And were you really about to give this man your home address?

“It’s uhm… it’s just a couple minutes up this road and then to the right.” Eyes are trained on the barely visible road ahead, struggling to see through the moggy and dirty window. Nonetheless, you stayed poised with precision.

“M’ kay, well uh, you just direct me.” Wary of your current state, Eddie took recognition at your avoidance of him. Allowing his normally teasing exterior to soften just so, “How long had you been out there?” He longed for you to look at him, even just for a second, only so he knew that you were okay.

Dampness invades your nostrils and you grimace slightly at the faint stench of marijuana that hits your senses.

“Only like, 20 minutes. I think.”

“20 minut—“ He clicks his tongue in disapproval, “Oh you are definitely gonna catch something. Is it straight ahead orrrr?” Distracted by you he must’ve missed the right hand turn toward your house.

“Oh, shoot! Sorry, it was back there,” You glance in the wing mirror and look back over your shoulder, “Take the next right up here, that should help us out.”

God, could you get any more precious?

“Shoot? Really?” He physically couldn’t help himself, “What’re you, five? Just say the word shit.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Amuse me,” He grins widely and his attempts at riling you earned him a prolonged look of defiance, “I’m not gonna tell anyone, promise.” He takes a hand from the wheel and crosses his heart with his pointer finger.

“Profanity is unkind and makes you appear brutish.”

The words of your father cartwheel through your mind and spill out into reality.

“Swearing is fun and harmless! Especially when it isn’t directed at someone in particular. Try it.“

Another push.

“Hey, isn’t this Nancy Wheelers street—”

“I’ve cursed before, Eddie, I’m not some otherworldly being. You obviously just don’t know me. Take the next left.” Your words began to sour your mouth and your thoughts weren’t much help.

Did he see you like that? Like all of the rest?

Were you alien, even to him?

It was strange because out of everyone in Hawkins, you had foolishly thought that if anyone could even remotely come close to how you felt amongst your peers, it would’ve been him.

Eddie.

That Munson Boy.

“Woooah, I didn’t mean to upset you or tick you off, Angel, I was just jokin—“ Each word was a punch to the gut.

“Stop here.” You demand, your house now in eye shot at the end of the sleepy terrace. Eager to please, Eddie stalls the van gently and begins to search your body language for a sign of a lasting temper.

A small awkward cough fills the space as Eddie clears his throat in a discreet but non-discreet manner, “Well… you can keep the jacket until I see you next—“

Water burnt cheeks and deadpan eyes meet his doe like expression, “You didn’t tick me off, Eddie, don’t be ridiculous,” The ball was now in your court to give him a taste of his own vile medicine, “You pissed me off. Now, thank you for the ride but stay the Hell away from me.”

You barrel from the van in a hurry, fleeing as fast as your legs could manage: like a criminal from a crime scene. Too hastily to the point that your panicked brain didn’t clock that you were still draped in Eddie’s clothes until you slammed the patio door behind you and were met with a scent that didn’t quite belong in your home.

Which then lead to the realisation that you also left your small bag of groceries in his front seat.

“Shit.” A palm drags down your face and your voice is broken and small as you lean back against the door, closing your eyes as you welcome the dry caress of the vacant house.

Muscles still for a moment, tensing as you contemplate bringing the thick material of the jacket up to your nose for a sniff. Without seeing the harm in it you decide to follow through on the thought. Inhaling the scent of the brunette deeply and moaning gently on the exhale.

The idea that followed was lightening sharp and just as quick.

“No.”

You hush yourself, not allowing your brain to wander and get lost in that part of you. The throbbing and aching part of you that willed your fingers between you thighs whilst your nose nuzzled worn fabric and your teeth gnawed on the denim collar of Eddie’s jacket.

You couldn’t allow it.

Not tonight.

-

That rug, that stupid old filthy rug had seen more dancing shoes than a ballroom tonight. It was where they all squealed and grooved, everyone with everyone, the music escaping from every open window and door.

Once the colour of cherries, now it told a trodden tale of love and laughter, of more good times than anyone is ever promised in life. Your father could have replaced it years ago, brought in another just like it, but instead you hauled it over to the river in good weather at least once a year and washed it as best you could. Sometimes the earthy red tones would return, other times not so much.

Wooden flooring vibrates underfoot with each sound wave that pulses from your borrowed speakers. It causes a known feeling to erupt inside of your chest— only this time you weren’t sure if it were the familiar hug of anxiety or the red hot spike of adrenaline.

“Please mind the—” Neon and artificially coloured fruit punch, which had been indefinitely spiked with booze, is comically spilled onto the sofa in that moment, “Furniture.” Only now do you wonder whether you’re playing a losing game. Everyone was beyond wasted and your voice couldn’t rise loud above the thumping base to be heard. Tonight’s occasion only expected to entice a few attendees, maybe enough for a book club, but not enough to fill a barn house rodeo.

Safe to say, things had spiralled far out of your control and you weren’t sure you could rein it in.

Bottles clanked in the kitchen and the penetrable sound of porcelain breaking hits your ears and makes you jump in your skin. Regret sinks deeper and deeper into your weary bones and your head spins with the laughter surrounding you.

You recognise the remnants on the floor to be the mug you painted in pre-school. Bright with pastel pinks and fluorescent greens. It was your father’s favourite. You never knew why but it was the one he always reached for. The one he smiled into each morning.

A frog like lump forms in the base of your throat, luring tears to your eyes as you think of the devastation that’ll be brought to your father when he realises it’s gone. One of his prized possessions. A childhood relic which he loved.

Which you loved.

“Oh my god, Ronnie!! You’re soooooo funny!” Jessica Rogers squeaks, the red head who you knew as the new face of the cheerleading squad, as she fawns over Ronnie Mitchell. Hawkins’s very own Johnny Depp.

Ronnie, very evidently being the culprit of the smashed glass, grins like a hyhena about to snatch its prey and within moments his thin lips are trying to eat up Jessica’s entire face.

Bravely but teary eyed you decide to enter the crowded designated lions den which was the kitchen. Swallowing harshly to allow yourself to speak.

“Hi, sorry, can we please be a bit more careful—“

“Heyyy, Harrington!! Where’s Nancy at?” A huge body breeded for American football shoulder barges by you, whacking you into the nearest wall with such force you’re sure the plaster board had splintered. The saddest thing about it was that the event went totally unnoticed by the surrounding part goers and your body smacking against the wall sounded so faint against the drums blaring in your ears.

Composing yourself proved difficult with the group of four other bodies trying to enter and exit through the small entry way to the kitchen. They pushed you flush against the rustic orange wall and only in a great deal of struggle and panic are you able to get away, struggling to regain your balance and breathe clearly. Human functions that should come easily.

Each breath stuttered in through your nose and staggered back out through your mouth, drying your throat until it felt raw and sore. In your mind you were still there, suffocating beneath the stampede of bodies.

They didn’t see you. They didn’t care.

You were nobody to them. They didn’t even know this was your house. Your family home.

And they were disrespecting it. Ruining what you, your father and your gorgeous mother had worked so hard to build.

They didn’t care. They couldn’t see you.

They refused to.

Your heart thundered at an alarming pace, like the hooves of racing horses pounding into the ground. Shaking nimble fingers clutch at your tightening chest, a last resort to soothe yourself. You had to calm down or you were sure to fall apart.

In front of all these people.

You couldn’t.

With agility you take the stairs two at a time, the soles of your shoes snagging against the trampled carpet and causing you to near collapse as you reach the top. Your breathing heaves your chest up and down harshly as you fall into your bedroom like a bat out of Hell searching for silence. You didn’t find it.

Cold wood meets your sweat sheened forehead as you press yourself to your bedroom door. Both of your hands lay splayed against the doorframe, supporting your trembling body as you fight to stay upright.

“What’s the point…” A blabbered and wet whisper slips, begging a flood of tears to your reddened eyes. Beneath you your knees weaken and in a painless motion you crumple to the floor like a piece of paper.

The thing about crumpled paper is that you can try and fix it all you want. Iron it, smooth it out, speak nice to it— in the end there’ll still be creases. The pain will remain.

Your shoulders shake as you swallow a despaired whimper, your knuckles wiping furiously at your runny nose.

You adjust yourself slowly to position your back against the door, and instead of solitude you found something unexpected lurking around in your sacred space as your eyes find the back of a familiar brunettes head. His hair is different tonight, it’s pulled back into a low ponytail. Neater.

“Eddie?!” Your voice betrays you and cracks on the verge of tears but also sings with alarm at the sight of him.

“Hey, are you okay?” He is slow to move toward you.

“What are you doing in here? This is my room—”

“Uhh looking for my jacket which you seem to be holding hostage? Where is it by the way—”

“No.” Your tone was totally saturated with disbelief.

“Yes?” Above all else, Eddie was confused at your anger but deeply wounded at the tear streaks on you face.

“I don’t believe you. Get out.”

“Okay, fine. Don’t believe me, hot mouth. Just hand me my jacket and I’ll be on my merry little way. Took hours to make it, y’know.” He beams at you, hoping to see a smile return to your face. His hands find the front pockets of his dark indigo jeans and his shoulders rise boyishly toward his ears, “Unless… you have something else to confess before I leave?” Tamed eyebrows wiggle at you and your first guttural reaction is to scream at him.

“I don’t. I don’t have anything to say to you right now. Just leave me alone, please.”

Bloated silence.

“I’m not upset,” Your softened exterior beseeched him to remain where he stood, “I’m just— They’re just breaking so much stuff down there. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take it out on you. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“S’alright…” He sincerely meant it, “I have to say, I was surprised to hear that you were the one throwing the rager. Not like ya.”

You shake your head in distaste, “You don’t know me. Not really.”

“I want to…” A shrill inhale of breath. A pause so feverish it left your skin itching, “So uh, what’s going on down there?”

In defeat you perch on the edge of your beautifully made bed. Sacrificing the taunt sheets and crinkling it with your body weight

“Well, after the fourth broken glass I sort of lost count of everything else they’ve ruined. My dad’s favourite coffee mug, too…” An agonised and breathy laugh leaves your lips, “I sort of feel like that mug right now.”

“What? Broken?” Eddie’s legs twitch toward the bed, his heart wanting to sit next to you but his brain fighting against the urge.

“No. Not broken,” Your lips quirk up at the corners and your hands toy with one another in your skirt scrunched lap, “Just… changed.”

“Change is good. Change is better than broken.” His reply is as speedy as light and he uses it as courage to propel himself forward to perch next to you on the mattress.

You allow his presence. Actually, you welcome it with open arms and a shy smile.

“If you need someone to talk to about anything then you can count on me. Both of my ears are in pretty good shape. Can hear all sorts with these puppies.” His wrists flick by both sides of his head causing his hair to be blown back and forth.

It prompts a real laugh from you. Something honest.

Something true.

“Thank you, Eddie. That’s real sweet of you.”

Despite the high energy radiating from outwith the safety of your four bedroom walls, it failed to seep on through infect the pair of you. Life in this moment with Eddie felt easy, slow and you were in no hurry to change scenery.

With the door closed every pretence falls. The facade you show the world melts away and all you want is to exist with one another. In those tranquil seconds something unspoken shifts.

In the lamplight you discover more of Eddie than you’ve ever been gaul enough to before. Unafraid to meet his gaze as your eyes study his features. Honey eyes appear black, like bullet holes through his skull, encapsulating the light instead of reflecting it. Across the strong bridge of his nose you admire the faint freckles painted there, ever so tenderly kissed by the suns rays. Your next observation is one you hadn’t expected to affect you so much— his pillowy blood flushed lips.

Eddie knew what you were thinking. He could see it splayed all over your face like an open book. Your parted lips, your lidded eyes with pupils the size of a coin and the small scrunch in between the middle of your brows. It amused him more because he knew that you probably thought you were hiding it all so well. You wanted him. You fucking needed him. Who was he to deny his sweet angel of that?

“Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” Praise. Something you craved with such greed. Something your heart beat inside of your chest for.

On instinct, you shake your head, “What? No…”

“I’m serious,” Tactical fingers stroke against the heated curve of your cheek, soft in your hair as he tucks a strand behind your ear, “So fuckin’ pretty.”

You watch round eyed and entranced as his two front teeth puncture his bottom lip— blissfully unaware of the way the pad of his thumb stroked against your own mouth.

Eddie couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. You had bewitched him, body and soul— or something like that.

“Been wanting this for so long…” His voice trails off, almost like he had accidentally spoken a private thought aloud, “The closer I am to you the more perfect you are.”

His deep voice purrs softly, lulling you to close the waning distance between you both. Your remain still, though, afraid you’ll ruin the moment.

“I’ve… I’ve never done this before.” The one thing you’ve wanted to confess for so long, “I don’t think I’m any good at it.”

You knew the ins and outs of sex, of course you did, you just hadn’t partook. Never provided the opportunity. Until now. Until Eddie.

You weren’t even sure that he wanted you in such a way— but what you knew was that you wanted it to be him.

He was the one to have you. He was the one to make it all better.

“How about I kiss you and we can go from there, sweet girl?” A slow and sure nod of approval from you is all Eddie needs to cross the forbidden line. Eyelids flutter closed as you prepare yourself mentally for whatever may happen next. This was your first time for most things: your first party, your first kiss and your first.. sexual encounter.

Above all else it was exciting but also quite terrifying.

You didn’t want it to hurt.

Expectant for Eddie’s lips to meet your own it pleasantly surprised you when his mouth ghosted over one of your eyelids, and then the other, teasing kisses over the entirety of your face. Everywhere but your mouth and it is sweet enough to give you toothache.

For as long as Eddie had wanted to see you this way, he also yearned to have you be his. To shower you in endless love and heartfelt affection. To provide you with the tenderness you so desperately deserved. He wanted to take care of you. In more ways than one.

“Eddie—“ you whine breathless and impatient but smiling all the same.

“Shhh… just keep those eyes closed, Baby. Good things come to good girls who know how to wait,” The small quirk in your expression had Eddie’s mind reeling with sinful ideas, “Are you a good girl, hmm? You wanna be my good girl?” His forked tongue kitten licks at the lobe of your ear and is accompanied by a shiver drilling down your spine.

Your hips shift against the bed, Eddie’s warm breath across your cheek spreads along the surface of your skin like a wild fire through dry brush, melting your loins as you struggle to hold on to any sort of rational thinking. Your grasp inexorably slipping.

When he finally leaned in you knew what was coming and shyly turned away, but his hand reached under your hair below your ear and turned you gently back to him, his thumb caressing your cheek. Lips parted and your heart fluttered as he guided you to his sensuous mouth and your breaths mingled in a way that felt fated. For a season tongues wrestled, fanning a minuscule smoldering ember into a ferocious flame.

Beneath the hem of your skirt Eddie’s thumb prowled the skin, leaving behind tedious circles of electricity. Trailing down, his fingertips tenderly traced the valley between your knees and upon reflex you press your thighs together. He grinned against you, pleased at the effect he had over your untarnished and perfectly responsive body.

Eddie is first to pull away from the heated entanglement, leaving the pair of you panting and searching desperately for breath. For a long moment Eddie examined your expression for any signs of second thoughts and panic but he found nothing but reddened cheeks and starving lips.

“Now, if anything happens that you don’t like just say the word and it’ll all stop, ‘kay? Gotta communicate with me.” His tone is suddenly serious and you meekly peek up at him through your eyelashes.

“Okay.” You whisper, the first you’ve spoken in minutes. He smiles, pleased with you.

“Climb on the bed for me.” Eddie scoots away from you, watching like a predator to prey at your uncertainty as you find a comfortable position on the bed.

“Like this?” You ask in innocence, searching for reassurance.

Eddie grumbles in approval, his voice deepening at the sight, “Mhm, just like that, Sweetheart. Doin’ so well.”

His body feels like liquid as he stands at the base of the bed, towering over you, “Part your legs, nice and slow,” You start, leaving them barely ajar as a self consciousness swarms your mind, “Further, Honey. I gotta see what I’m dealing with.”

Oh and what a sight it was. Powder blue panties plastered to the swell of your mound. Slickness meeting your folds solely from his kiss alone. The sight was biblical and dragged a guttural groan from Eddie’s throat, “Fuck, how are you even real?”

He sunk to his knees slowly, careful as to not startle you, his wide eyes remaining fixated on the space between your legs, “Gonna touch you now, Sweetheart. S’that okay?” His dark gaze flickers over you from head to toe, acknowledging the way your hands clutch the sheets looking for a lifeline, “Need you to relax, Baby. Can you do that for me?” His voice trails off and his smirk softens just a bit.

“I’m not gonna bite cha’… unless you ask nicely.” He winks, his tone teasing but not unkind which helps to ease the tension growing in your shoulder blades.

“Sorry, I’m just nervous…” Your voice is hushed as you carefully watch Eddie kneel between your parted thighs, the warm skin of his palms heat your knees as he balances himself above you.

“First rule, you never have to apologise. For anything,” Eddie melts at the way you soften, “And secondly, we don’t have to do this. I’m happy to just lay here with you…”

Sure, would he be disappointed? Yes. He has his dream girl at the mercy of his fingertips. But he wanted this to work— after all, the man saw himself marrying you a month ago.

“I want this,” You were I fingertips away to what you have wanted for weeks— A stern readiness urging you to continue on this steamy pursuit, “I’ll just need some guidance is all.”

A wide and wolffish grin splits Eddie’s face, “I can work with that.”

Resuming his previous position Eddie found a comfortable spot on the mattress between your thighs, his face only just visible behind your scrunched up skirt. A forked tongue darted onto Eddie’s bottom lip, the muscle longing to slip between your moistening folds, “Gonna touch you now, Princess. Remember what we talked about.”

You hum, breathing steadily as you succumb trustingly to Eddie’s touch. Eyelids are slow to close and the palm of your hand blindly finds the smooth and warm skin of Eddie’s forearm. A longing touch you have finally been able to quench.

Propped up on his elbows Eddie is tender as he tickles the insides of your legs, softly peppering the plush skin with lingering kisses which makes you shudder, “Heavenly. Absolutely stunning.” Each compliment is emphasised with a open mouthed kiss and a wet stroke of his tongue.

A string of small whines leaves your mouth in a breathy plead, your hips stirring up from the mattress slightly to try and meet Eddie.

Strong hands pin your hips to the spot, “If you keep moving I won’t be able to give you what you want. What do you want, huh?” His voice doesn’t waver and his grip leaves you, only for the pad of his thumb to stroke a pressured line down the seam of the panties from your clit to your aching hole, “Tell me, Pretty girl. What do you want?”

A gasp is shocked from your throat and you grew more sensitive with each passing second and with that reactivity there came desperation, “Eddie…” Your voice is dripping in sin, sweet and laboured. All air leaves your lungs in total entirety, “Please.”

You weren’t even sure what you were begging for, all you knew was that you didn’t want it to stop. You wanted his touch all over you.

A shiver strikes Eddie’s spine like a match and he buries his nose into your heat, sniffing in your scent like a bloodhound on a trail, “Fuck— I’m gonna take your panties off, kay’? Is that okay?” Truth be told, Eddie was just as needy as you were in this moment. He was eager and willing to do absolutely anything to please you.

“Yes— yes that’s okay.” Shakily you lift your hips to try and rip the fabric down yourself, but Eddie settles you back down gently and helps you to slide them down your legs. You relax again, then sensuality of the action urging all tension to drift from your body.

Slyly he pockets the underwear for later but he soon is left gawking with a slack jaw at the banquet between your thighs which just ached to be devoured by him, “Pussy is so pretty. What a picture…” Spell bound he crawls toward you, his arms linking around your upper thighs and dragging your greedily toward his face, “This may tickle at first, may feel a bit odd—“

His presence alone was enough to send you reeling, “Please, Eddie, I can’t wait any longer—“

He didn’t need to be told twice. He was already salivating to a concerning level.

It’s as if you forget how to breathe when his mouth collides with you—hungry, wet and feverish. Your insides pulse and your muscles tense in the best way. A moan erupts from the pit of your stomach and your eyes pinch closed in ecstasy.

“Oh Honey—“ He cooed, his words muffled by the mouthful he has on his tongue, the vibrations rippling through you like a current of recklesswater.

It took such concentration for you to focus on the way Eddie lapped and nuzzled into your leaking cunt. His hands roamed your body freely and found grace in nipping and squeezing your stiffened nipples beneath your button-up blouse. Your head spun with lewd thoughts and your throat was vocal all on its own. You and no control over it.

Eddie’s lips sucked and consumed you with such shamelessness, each stroke and prod of his stiff tongue to your swollen clit left your mewling like an animal in heat.

“Feels so good, please don’t stop— agh,” Your head is heavy as it presses back into the pillow beneath it, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull as your fingers lace into Eddie’s hair, gently tugging on the strands which elicits a growl from his throat.

Goosebumps arise on your skin, raising every bodily hair to stand on end when you feel the tips of Eddie’s fingers teasing your gushing entrance. You were past the point of communication now— whatever Eddie wanted to do, you were right there with him.

His pursuit is hot on you clit, stimulating you to the point of tears when he eases his middle finger inside of you, inch by inch until he is fully submerged. He pumps his fist gently, stretching you out until you’re ready for a second finger. With your arousal it doesn’t take long at all until you’re nearly ready for a third.

Erotic sounds create a symphony that fills the space, drowning out the chaos happening beneath you, “Such a greedy little pussy hmm, swallowing my fingers to the knuckles.” His digits curl within you which causes your spine to arch slightly, pleasure taking over and burning into your lower abdomen, “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long— touch myself to you all the time.” His confession sends you to another dimension, one where rational thought just doesn’t exist. You grind against the palm of his hand and when his lips reattach to your clit it sends your spluttering over the edge and plummeting back to earth, your walls clenching around him as your body quivers into the springs below.

“Fuck—“ Your vision is shaky as Eddie plants a kiss to your lips, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth allowing you to taste yourself on him.

“Ready for the main event?” He speaks into your neck where his teeth drag and nibble at the skin, sure to leave bruising along the curve to your shoulder.

That’s when you feel it, his stiff bulge pressing into the soaked skin of your upper thigh. Still high on your first release all you can muster vocally is a soft hum and a eager nod.

“Gotta hear you, Sweetheart. Do you wanna feel me?” The tip of his nose kisses yours and you smile at the sight of his gorgeous brown eyes which appear more amber in the warm hue of the light. More inviting and romantic.

“Yes. I want that.” Another press of wet lips against yours, Eddie’s quirk up at the corners with his hands lovingly stroking your hair.

“S’ all I needed to hear, Baby. We’re gonna take it nice and slow. Got you all warmed up.” His hand sneaks down to cup your mound, his fingers relishing the slickness that they are met with as they pump back inside of you— testing the waters to ensure they’re still warm.

“Can I undress you?” The words are foreign in your mouth, like an unknown entity had possessed your voice box, cloning you and then speaking.

Eddie only grins, his response immediate, “Absolutely, Princess. Up ya get.” Forcefully, but not brutishly, Eddie takes hold of your upper arms and brings you to sit in an upright position, “We can undress each other.”

Excitement burnt Eddie’s chest when your eyes lit up at the idea and he found himself cupping your face in the palms of his hands and kissing you delicately and passionately.

“I’ll go first.” He couldn’t wait a second longer to see you, all of you, bare for him. Your soul exposed to him.

Button by tedious button Eddie’s fingers fight with your blouse in a painstaking battle to undress you. It’s all worth it when he sees your bra. A blush pink colour and a modest but pretty design against your flesh.

“Breathtaking.” He could look at you forever.

Your face heats bashfully under his gaze and your hands are hesitant to reach for him, “My turn…” You mutter, your fingers curling around the hem of his acid washed t-shirt and gently removing it up and over his head which leaves his hair slightly tossed an dishevelled.

You allow the garment to fall to your lap and your hands lay flush against the skin of his chest, revelling in the warmth of him, “You’re beautiful, too, Y’know.” You peek up at him through your eyelashes, smirking at the way Eddie’s cocky face starts to flush.

“Thank you…” Is all he meekly musters, his shoulders softening as he melts into you. The quiet moment brings you closer together, foreheads blissfully meeting as Eddie’s fingers unclasp the hooks of your bra, the elastic straps falling from your shoulders and gliding effortlessly from your frame.

You welcome it and Eddie tries not to stare. He had seen women naked before— but none like you. None as soft and angelic. You belonged in a gallery, displayed with pride next to other great pieces of art.

He hadn’t ever felt this lucky, to see someone as perfect as you up close.

It felt like dream.

Only when you decide to unbuckle his belt is Eddie snapped back to the present, his hands smoothly massaging the plumpness of your thighs as he waits his turn to steal the only article of clothing you have left— your skirt.

“Stand up,” He demands in a voice is so low it could be mistaken as a whisper. Contently you comply, rising to your feet and finding your place stood in front of Eddie’s seated silhouette. Sensually, he begins his pursuit on the zipper of the garment. Carefully as to not snag the fabric as he cranks it down and lets it fall from your waist. Leaving you slightly chilled and totally naked before him.

Instinctively his fingertips trace the curvature from your hips to your waist, soft and inviting as they paw and palm the tender flesh of your breasts.

Promptly Eddie rises to meet you, pulling your body close to his and in one swift motion he is laying you back onto the bed, standing to remove the rest of his pesky clothes.

He massages his cock through the denim of his jeans and moves on to pull them down his legs, kicking them off onto the floor and then doing the same with his underwear— only this time he is menacingly slow. Ensuring he has your full and undivided attention when his throbbing cock springs free from the waistband.

Part of you couldn’t believe what you were really seeing. Eddie Munson, fully stripped and in front of you. His sex in his hand with the tip red and glistening— aching and leaking for you. Your touch. Your thoughts flicker to how he will fit inside of you. The stretch. You yearned for it. Trembled for it.

“Safety first.” He reaches into his pocket to retrieve a red foil packet, tearing the ragged edge with his teeth and taking the condom from inside. Entranced you watch his fingers roll it along his thick length from tip to base and your pulse quickens with excitement.

He stands looming above you, his demeanour darker as he climbs onto the bed and positions himself between your legs. His elbows rest at either side of your head and his eyes bore into yours, “You ready?” His rough thumb strokes across your brow bone and Eddie chuckles softly at your fast nod.

He holds his hand in front of his mouth and spits into it, covering it in saliva.

Reaching down between the both of your bodies he smears his drool all over your pussy, his fingers pushing and pumping inside of you again, “Oh yeah, she’s desperate for me, huh? You want it bad, Baby, don’t cha’?” His dirty words plagued your mind and infected it from the core outwards. Forever changed. Your body writhed and you moaned into the shell of his ear with each thrust of his skilful fingers, and just as he stopped you felt a much larger push at your clenching hole.

Eddie ruts his rampant cock against you, covering himself in slick before he is carefully pushing inside of you, his eyes hooked on your face as he does, “Just the tip, first…” He promises and you nod, breathing shallow as your mind focuses on the intoxicating stretch of your core, “You okay?” He asks, unbeknownst to you he is still pushing inside, inch by inch.

You smile up at him and nod an unspoken ‘yes’, your eyes half lidded and shimmering as you welcome his sinking shaft.

“Fuck, squeezing me so good. Made for me.”

With each frisky word Eddie spoke it had you growing wetter, inviting more of him to plunge into you and back out again. His hips still whilst he is fully submerged, allowing you time to fully adjust to his length and girth before he rocks into you.

You moan when his hips snap back against you, the feeling familiar but intense, “Ya like that? Feel good?” He searches for reassurance.

“Yes.. yes.” You stutter, half moan and half confirmation.

Every kiss has a raw intensity - breathing fast, heart rates faster. Then before you know how it happened you are skin moving softly together, like the finest of silk.

His hand enters from below moving fast to tangle in your hair and your tongues entwined in a sloppy kiss. He changes your breathing with every feral thrust, hearing your moans timed to the muscular movements of his body.

Then all at once he stops and kisses from your breasts to the flesh of your stomach, his hands feather light and ticklish before resuming his previous position. He’s licking and biting and using his fingers all at once. Watching every reaction on your face, feeling how your legs move and stiffen, watching your body writhe.

You release a moan, unable to articulate a response when Eddie whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Praising you. Telling you how he’s going to ruin you. How good of a girl you are for him.

In seconds he’s fucking you harder, pounding you into the mattress just long enough to intoxicate your mind before stopping again. A strategy of his to ensure you’ll get hooked on this drug forevermore— his drug. Him and only his.

“Fuck— so tight, Baby. Think I’m gonna burst.” You could feel his muscles straining on top of you and his cock twitching inside of you. You wondered how it would feel to have him spill inside of you—

“Eddie arggh—“ You claw at his back, your hips bucking up to meet Eddie’s every move. Skin slapping against skin.

You were fucking hooked alright.

Sensations sky rocket and you swear there’s a moment where you are floating outwith the confines of your own body, looking down on the way Eddie humps you like a jackrabbit. The imagery proves to be too much, sending you into total over stimulation and you shake and nearly scream at the pleasure that comes with each deep stroke of Eddie’s cock.

“Gonna cum, Sweetheart if you keep grabbing me like tha—“

“Me too!!“

You squeal, clutching to Eddie’s bicep like your life depended on it, and at its upmost tallest height, you succumb to it all and falter beneath him. A shaking and shivering mess as your ride your comedown along Eddie’s length.

Moments after, Eddie collapses onto you after chasing his own orgasm, smiling like an idiot into the crook of your neck. Your perfume penetrated his brain in a way he could only describe as witch craft and you lovingly paw at his dampened hair.

“So…” you pant, out of breath and slightly delirious, “Where do we go from here?”

Eddie’s strong arms position your naked body to lay flush against his bare and sweat sheeted chest, “Well… how about I start all the official paperwork to take you out on a date?” His fingers comb through you hair, creating a tiredness within you that you hadn’t noticed until now.

A small yawn cuts through the untroubled space and you would have giggled at his remark if you weren’t so sleep stricken, “Mmm, yeah?” Your face nuzzles into the fleshy pillow of his pectoral muscle, “What kind of date?”

The sound of his heart beating against your ear lulls you into a state of unconsciousness. A place between awake and deep slumber.

“Anywhere you want, Sweet girl. Anywhere you want.” Eddie presses kisses to your hair, his vice like grip around you tightening like an anaconda. He refused to let you go.

It was you and him from here on out.

Against all odds.

Always.

-

You stand in your kitchen, admiring your work. You've spent the entirety of the day cleaning, scrubbing until the whole room sparkled. The entire house is filled with the fresh lemon-y scent of cleaner. You plop down on your couch, satisfied with your hard work. You reach for the book lying on your coffee table when suddenly the door flies open and shuts with a loud slam. In walks your very handsome boyfriend, Dexter Morgan. Something about the look on his face, and the dramatic entrance, tells you he's not in the greatest mood. His gaze is dark, angry. You feel like you should be scared when he's like this, hell most people would, but you feel rather turned on instead. He's pacing around your living room. Not stopping to look at you, or even say anything.

"Dex, what's wrong?"

He shoots you a harsh glare

"It's just work. I should probably go" he replies

"No, don't. I want to help" you reach to grab his arm

"No, I shouldn't have come here" he pulls his arm back

You frown in response

"What can I do to make you stay" you ask, looking up at him with pleading eyes

he sighs

"I'm sure there's some way I could help. I can be pretty convincing" you slide your tongue across your bottom teeth while holding eye contact

He sighs again, shutting his eyes and tilting his head back

He's contemplating his next move. He'd love nothing more than to rip your clothes off and have you right here on the floor. But considering tonight's circumstances, not being able to feed that need inside him. He's afraid he'll be too much, too dark and empty. That he won't be able to control himself. He's been stalking his prey for the past two weeks all for nothing, all for him to turn up empty handed. No blood slide to bring home. He didn't know what else to do but come over. Deep down he knew what he wanted, what this would lead to. The only thing that could take his mind off of things, just for a little while at least. Maybe he could channel that hunger, that need, into something else. You.

As he's looking at you, something in his eyes shift. From anger to a hunger. Something insatiable. You knew what this meant. You could hardly contain your excitement as your arousal began to pool in your underwear. He cups your face in both hands kissing you hard, deep. Teeth clashing, breath heavy. It's like something switched in him. From a man wounded, angry, to a man in need. A man who knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was you. In this moment it's all he could think about. He had tunnel vison, trying to keep tonight's previous failure out of his mind. His hands began to roam your body, grabbing anything they could. You slid your hand down to his crotch, grabbing and rubbing. He growls in response. This only further fueled the fire inside him, like a spark to gasoline. He spun you around and slammed you against the wall.

He breaks the kiss searching your face for any sign of discomfort. He may be a killer, but he would never hurt the woman he loved.

"Keep going" you say breathlessly

At your confirmation, he returns to kissing you. Moving down your neck, sucking and biting. Your breath catches in your throat. His hand snakes down to play with the hem of your pants. He slides between the band reaching further down, tracing circles around your clit. You let out a soft moan. You move your hands to his hair, gliding your fingers through his auburn locks, pulling and tugging. He begins to kiss you more roughly now, breathing hard. You can feel him hardening against your thigh.

"Bedroom" you whisper

You wrap your legs around his waist as he picks you up. Never once breaking the kiss as he carries you to the bedroom. He drops you onto the mattress, springs creaking from the impact.

"Off" he orders, referring to your clothes

You slowly remove your shirt, then pause

"Everything" His face is like stone as he watches your every move, his eyes the only thing moving as he follows your hands move across your body.

When you unclasp your bra and let it slide off, you watch as his pupils dilate wide, focusing in on your now exposed chest.

You move your hands down to start working the buttons of your jeans, moving teasingly slow.

He grabs your wrist

"Don't play games with me" His voice ragged and deep

You can't help but smirk ever so slightly. You've never seen him like this before. Dominant? Sure. But never this dark and angry, never this in need.

You slide your pants off, then your underwear. You're completely exposed now, while he's still fully dressed. You blush a little. His eyes scan your body, taking it all in. Preparing for what's about to happen, playing out different scenarios in his mind. You frown when he doesn't make any moves to remove his own clothes. That tight green button up makes you think horrifically sinful things, you just want him to rip it off and crawl on top of you already. You guess you'll have to do it yourself.

You reach up to tug on the hem of his shirt, he understands and pulls it off over his head. He removes his belt as well which brings your attention to his now extremely large bulge. 'He must be so uncomfortable' you think. You look up at him, making eye contact as you slide his pants and boxers down to his knees. His wild eyes looking into yours as you lean forward to lick a long stripe along his cock. He clenches his jaw at the sensation, wanting more. You finally take him into your mouth, pushing further inch-by-inch. His head falls back as he lets out a low groan. You move your head slowly, still trying to adjust to him in your mouth. He decides this is too slow and places a hand on your head pushing you faster. Your gags only encourage him as the closer he gets the rougher and faster he pushes until he's full-on face fucking you. He stops however and pulls away; this isn't how he wants to finish. He wants more, he needs to be inside you.

He looks down at you, noticing tears streaming down your face. He snaps out of whatever sex induced daze he was in. His eyes dissolving from aroused to concerned.

"Are you okay? Was that too much?" His voice laced with worry

But to his surprise, you just smile up at him

"No, I can take it. I promise" you say, giving him the same pleading doe eyes that got you into this mess

With your approval, he immediately snaps back. Lips crashing into yours, tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, like he's trying to memorize your taste. He pushes you onto the bed and crawls over you. He continues devouring your lips, rough and passionate, he even bites and draws a little blood, much to his amusement. One hand grasping your jaw while the other snakes down to your core. He easily slides two fingers in while his thumb rubs circles on your clit. Your loud moans are muffled by his mouth on yours. Gripping your jaw tightly, he moves your head to the side to gain access to your neck. He loves the sounds you make when he bites the tender flesh where your jaw meets your earlobe. He ravages your neck, biting, licking, and sucking any available skin he can get his mouth on. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was a vampire. Maybe that's just the effect you have on him. You moan loudly as his fingers work you into bliss, practically screaming his name as you cum.

He moves your face back to look at him. Your eyes glazed over with pleasure, one of his favorite looks on you. He grabs your thighs, wrapping them around his waist. He locks eyes with you as he aligns with your entrance and slowly pushes in. He loves watching your mouth fall open and your eyebrows scrunch in pleasure. He moves his hands to your hips, gripping tightly. His pace quickens, causing you to moan with every deep thrust. You squeeze your eyes shut as pleasure rolls through you.

His thrusts become faster and rougher. He moves a hand from your waist to your chest, rubbing his thumb across your nipples.

He suddenly pulls out and you whimper at the emptiness. You look at him confused

"Dex, please. I need you"

But before you know it, he grabs your waist and flips you over. His hands return to your hips, gripping them tightly. You arch your back in response, pushing into him.

"Good girl" he says in a low taunting voice

You moan at his words, God you love when he's like this

Without warning, he plunges back into you. Hitting deeper inside you with this new angle. He's just as rough, pounding into you relentlessly. With every stroke he can feel all his anger and stress fall away. He doesn't care about what happened earlier, all he can feel is you and the way you wrap around him perfectly. It doesn't take long for you to fall over the edge as you're sensitive from your previous orgasm. You cum hard, moaning out his name as your walls clench around him. Dexter continues to fuck into you, his thrusts becoming increasingly sloppy as he gets closer. He leans over you, bringing his lips to your ear.

"Inside, is that okay?" he whispers

You can't do anything other than nod

With a few final thrusts he comes undone, spilling into you. He slumps over you, chest against your back. Breathing in sync, feeling each other's bodies pressed together. He places soft kisses to the back of your neck, a complete contrast to the man he was a second ago. He collapses on the bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you.

"I didn't go too far, did I?" he asks in his usual calm, gentle voice

"No, you were perfect." you smile, pulling his hand to your face and placing a gentle kiss.

...