#1kfic
Text
𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 pt. i ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary: something that is desired all the more because it is not allowed—you find yourself torn between the idea that even though eddie is in a position of authority as your professor, he’s still what you crave the most.
cw: 18+ (minors, dni) teacher/student relationship, age gap (21 & 29), corruption!kink (eddie is well aware of what he’s doing), background ronance, max is readers bestfriend, eddie likes to wear his hair up for class and hates being formal, bratty!reader (sorta), angsty touches, a smutty cliffhanger, ect & lots more to come (pun intended)
word count: 11.6k - part two, part three, part four
The campus was huge and crowded and everything you hated all wrapped into one—but you couldn’t beat the view, the pleasant Indians weather, and all the amazing classes the college had to offer. And normally, first days would be terrifying, crippling your anxiety, but there was nothing but excitement; for now, at least.
Most of your morning was spent combing through syllabuses and trying to find your classes, which is mostly your own fault, deciding on a major so vastly different from your main course work—by the time afternoon rolls around, you’re forced to walk clear across campus, nearly ten minutes late to your class and faced with a surprisingly unirritated gentleman, who’s three seconds away from shutting the door closed indefinitely.
The man steals a glance at his watch, arm twitching slightly to force his sleeve back. His eyes glance up to you for a moment and back down, “Not a great way to start off your first day,” He comments cooly, face void of any emotion, “is this gonna be a habit?”
“No—god, no,” You respond, slightly out of breath, hand clutching the strap of your book bag, “I’m just getting used to where everything’s at—I didn’t get a chance to visit the campus earlier, I have no idea where anything is or—“
“It’s fine,” He assures, beckoning you into the classroom, surprisingly full, forcing you to the front row, positioned almost directly in front of his desk—this was the beginning of your nightmare, “let’s just be mindful of time, yeah?”
Not that Eddie has ever been punctual a day in his life. But, he’s learned that being a hard-ass is more effective than not giving a shit at all, especially when it comes to his students.
“Yeah—yes, I promise.” You swear, forcing a thin smile before making an immediate line for your desk, hoping that the further you sink, the more unnoticed you’ll be. Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case.
The loud slide of the chalk against the chalkboard as he writes his name across the green slab is defeating, most of the class watching in fearful silence—like there was some impending doom about to descend upon them.
“Uh, sir—“ You can see him visibly tense at the word, “are we going to be learning how to play any instruments in this class?” The voice comes from a boy who seems naturally quiet and more reserved, mortified by the fact that he even found the courage to raise his hand and ask a question.
There’s a small roar of laughter from the others, but you look along stoically, watching his face upturn slightly.
“Don’t call me, sir—please,” He laughs lightly, “it makes me feel old.”
“Professor Munson,” He corrects himself, “sorry.”
“You’re fine,” He assures, “and look—this isn’t an intro to music, it’s intro to musical therapy. We’re not just studying instruments and music, we’re also studying behaviors, the mind, how all of this stuff connects and affects people’s thought process and aiding certain struggles they may have.”
His way of talking is animated and refreshing, a stark change from the usual monotone professors you’ve run into all morning.
“So, if you’re just expecting to learn how to play the piano or something, this class probably isn’t for you,” He explains, eyeing down about a quarter of the class that makes a collective groan, “hey—I’m just being honest.”
And you knew you wouldn’t see half of those people in a week, jumping at the first chance to transfer, but you couldn’t help being intrigued. It wasn’t necessarily your first choice for a major, but it took you by surprise; your love for psychology and mind studies mixed with your love of music, it seemed like the perfect storm. Plus, your professor wasn’t the worst person in the world—yet.
He easily snaps open the cuff links to his sleeves, rolling them halfway up his arm, revealing a rather striking depiction of bats, swarming around the expanse of his forearm.
He definitely seemed like a tattoo guy, but it was still odd to see so openly—his feet tap together as he takes a seat on the end of his desk, scanning the room. You can’t help but notice his lopsided tie, wanting so desperately to fix it—it was bound to drive you nuts.
“It’s probably best to get most of your question out of the way today,” He says, “so, shoot them at me while you have the opportunity.”
A few hands fly up, he points off to your right, a couple rows behind you.
“So—are you a therapist?”
He snorts a soft laugh, shaking his head, “No—I don’t have all the proper certifications, but I assist therapist a lot when they’re looking into doing stuff related to musical therapy. I know enough to get by.”
The smile he flashes leads you to believe that he’s trying to be humble.
“Do you play any instruments?” Another student asks freely, the heads of the rest of the class snapping in their direction.
“A few,” He answers, hand waving about in a noncommittal manner, “mostly just guitar.”
He adjusts his tie again, even more lopsided now and you can’t help but stare it down, focused on nothing but the black, shiny material of it—Eddie clears his throat softly, catching your attention.
He’s staring right at you, caught red-handed—quick, think of something—
“Who do you usually work with?” You ask suddenly, “In your line of work, I mean.”
Outside of being a professor, obviously.
Another laugh, more subdued. “Veterans, mostly, and a lot of children.”
Eddie claps his hands together very suddenly, startling most of the class, including yourself. “Anyways, let’s go over the syllabus so there’s no confusion—I don’t need you guys bugging me outside of my office hours, as much as I love to teach.”
You sense another jab coming, but it doesn’t.
The syllabus review is a breeze, setting you up for what most of the semester entails, including when he was available—again, making it very clear that he wasn’t available outside of office hours.
And then he’s adjusting the damn tie again, almost like it’s wringing his neck to death. By the time class ends, he dismisses everyone with a simple wave, a few students lingering around their desks, debating on whether they should drop the class or not.
The voice that trails from the front of the classroom as you take a step down catches your attention, pulling your head up to look at the culprit. “Staying or dropping?” He asks.
Professor Munson. It felt weird and unnatural as it rolled around in your mind, still not falling from your tongue.
“Staying,” You answer surely, “I knew what this class was before I signed up—I’m not about playing roulette with taking a college class.”
“Fair enough.” He’s leaning against his desk again, hands shoved into his slack pockets, shiny, gold watch resting on his wrist, and you can’t take it anymore, the frustration boiling from your chest
“Your tie,” You say abruptly, pointing at the material, “It’s crooked.”
Really fucking crooked.
He takes a glance down, finger slipping in the space between his tie and neck, pulling at the offense piece of clothing, loosening it until it’s snapping away.
He balls up the tie and tosses it behind me, landing messily on his desk. “I never wear those after the first day—hate them. They’re so stupid.”
“Or, you just don’t know how to tie a tie.” You point on, mouth speaking before your brain can catch up—realizing much too late that this was your professor, not a friend.
Eddie scoffs mockingly, “And I’m sure you do.” He counters, watching your face drop slightly.
You did, actually—but that wasn’t the point.
“No one ever taught me.” He tells you, “So I’m wingin’ it.”
You nod thoughtfully, surprised at how quickly you managed to embarrass yourself. “Oh.” You say simply, it’s all you can manage.
You save yourself for further humiliation by offering a wave of goodbye, breaking the uncomfortable tension that had grown between you both, excusing yourself immediately.
And if that was horrible enough, your night would be even worse.
☆.｡.:*
“The Hideout?” You ask curiously, twisting the flyer in your hand, “That place is still open?
Max snatches the paper from your hand, shoving it into the pocket of her jacket, protecting her from the biting cold of wind—the beginnings of Hawkins autumn weather creeping up on you.
It didn’t help that you were barely covered from the waist down, skirt leaving little to imagine as the slit ran high up your thigh, thankfully the long sleeve top you wore was enough to save your upper extremities.
“Nancy and Robin swear by that place—plus, they’ll be pissed if you don’t go.” Max explains in her usual ‘could care less’ tone.
The only reason she was going was because of Lucas—a boy she’d met during her first class that day, who she also invited out, despite barely knowing. You couldn’t blame her, though. Max could handle herself well enough, that was for sure.
The drive is long, further out of town than you expect—hidden on some rundown road on an empty corner, bare except for the small bar, yet the place was packed with cars.
“Okay, maybe this place isn’t as rundown as I remember,” You take note of, “or everyone really wanted to get drunk tonight.”
Either way, you were definitely heading toward the latter option, following closely after Max. It doesn’t take long for Max to be pulled away though, quickly distracted by the only reason she came here, abandoning you.
“Have fun,” You remind her, “seriously.”
You could take care of yourself, settling up at one of the empty tables before the stage, perched on the uncomfortably tall seat, ordering yourself a quick drink as a server passes you.
“Hey!” A perked up voice yells out from behind you, arms wrapping around in a gentle hug—no one had the nerve besides Robin, who quickly caught you in a fuller hug as you turned to face her. “How have you been? Where’s Max?”
“She’s busy,” You laugh, giving her a pointed look, which she catches on quickly. “Where’s Nance?”
“Right here,” Her delicate voice peaks out from behind Robin, watching as her hand sneaks into Nancy’s, squeezing firmly.
You smile to yourself, but Robin sees it, shoving you an annoyed look.
At least those two finally figured it out—almost ten years later.
“So, you two know who’s playing tonight?” You ask curiously, sipping on the beer that the server passes to you on their way through the crowd.
“Yeah, he’s an old friend—we haven’t seen him in a while, though.” They both frown at the mention of it, sharing a quiet glance. “We should’ve invited Steve, Nance.”
“He never wants to leave the house, you know that.” Nancy adds, “His kids keep him busy enough.”
And it seemed like Steve got the life he always wanted, for the most part—but it’s still somber to think about, wishing just as badly that you could’ve seen him once more.
“Maybe next time.” You offer, and both of them smile.
“I’ll have to remind him to invite you to his littlest’s party in a couple months,” Nancy says, “he misses you.”
The feedback startled all of you, pulling you from the conversation and toward the stage, light dimly over the center. The lights around the bar dimmed in contrast, adjusting everyone toward the men gathering in their places on stage.
You squinted carefully, watching the guitarist adjust the microphone, pulling it up to his height. His hair was long, unruly, and obscuring his face as he leaned forward, speaking into the microphone.
“How’s everyone doing tonight?” He asks with a decent amount of enthusiasm, receiving a hearty applause in return. “We’re Corroded Coffin.”
The name blanks in your mind, not ringing any immediate bells.
It was definitely a crowd full of fans—or family, at least. They excitement was palpable, everyone leaning on the edge of their seats.
“This is our first show in a couple years, so go easy on us.” He laughs, head flicking up to move the hair out of his face—again, he spots you almost instantly.
The intake of breath is involuntarily, getting caught in your throat. The blush that creeps up your cheeks is hot and burning, noticeable from a mile away.
Eddie fucking Munson, your college professor—of all the chances and fate in the world this is how your night was going to go?
Eddie clears his throat, immediately averting his gaze. “We’re just doing cover songs tonight—so if you’ve got a request, send it through Gareth.” He instructs, jerking his head over his shoulder.
And despite how mortifying this all feels, Eddie plays his heart out; you’ve never seen anything like it. He’s a person who expresses himself through his body and his music, clearly—thrashing wildly and putting every movement he can into his playing, bouncing on his feet. He can’t be bothered to stay still, which is a complete difference from his classroom demeanor.
From what you’ve seen, at least.
“You good?” Robin asks, nothing the ghostly look on your face.
“Yeahyeah, uh—“ You reply distantly, “The lead looked familiar, but I think it’s a coincidence.”
One hell of a fucking coincidence.
“Eddie?” They both ask simultaneously, “There’s no way.”
Eddie Munson. Again, your professor—but also, a friend of a friend, and a complete fucking stranger otherwise. You must’ve pissed someone off well enough down the line to end up in this position; the biggest dose of karma you’ve ever felt.
“Like I said—it’s probably a coincidence.” You assure them, eyes still locked on him.
“Yeah—I don’t think we started hanging out with him until after you moved schools.” Nancy supplies, further attempting to assure you.
Eddie catches another glance at you and you can’t help but down the bottle of beer in one go, immediately leaving your seat to ask for another, leaving your friends to congregate at the table.
The song ends abruptly, falling off of a long guitar solo, and you can’t even dare to look in that direction, faced shoved into the drink you gripped in your hand.
“Come here, come here,” You hear Robin call from behind you, but you know it’s not for you, another rumbling voice slipping through the many others, a weak protest, “Stop being like that.”
There really was no arguing with Robin and Eddie was smart to keep quiet, following her obediently to the bar. The hand that clasps your shoulder is light and gentle and Nancy shoots you an apologetic look as you look behind you.
“Ringin’ any bells now?” Robin asks playfully, holding her hand up under his face, like he was on display. Eddie makes a face, side eyeing her affectionately.
“No, sorry,” You lie easily, shrugging him off. Eddie seems to relax at that, half-expecting you to out both him and yourself—not that there was anything wrong, it was just another freaky coincidence, “What’s his name again?”
And really, it’s just to poke fun, the slight buzz creeping into your system.
“Eddie Munson,” Nancy replies, glancing between the both of you, “Edward, if that helps.”
Eddie rolls his eyes at that, hand held up in desperation as he called out for a drink over your shoulder, reaching around you to grab the bottle. You visibly tense at the proximity and he notices, still, he doesn’t try to move away.
This was too weird.
“Nope, still nothing.” You tell them, sticking to your story.
Robin shrugs, “Well, I should probably explain—Nancy used to babysit her when she was younger, her and Max and all those crazy little kids that we always told you about—“
It made you wince; babysitter, Nancy, kids. It was the worst sequence of words that could’ve been spoken in history, to your professor, in the middle of a bar, that he was also playing at.
“Robin,” You warn, “I’m sure he doesn’t care.”
“Nah,” Eddie shrugs, leaned beside you against the bar, metal chain clinking against the counter-top, lifting the beer to his lips leisurely, “It’s nice to meet you.”
And the smile seems forced, but his voice is steady, easy—you almost believe him.
But, then Nancy and Robin are pulled off in a different direction, catching up with another small group of friends and Eddie is staring at you.
And not secretly—very, very openly.
“I swear I didn’t—“ You start.
“I don’t usually,” He interrupts.
You both take a hard stop, looking each other down.
“You first,” He instructs, bring the drink to his lips once more, “then I’ll go.”
“I swear I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight,” You explain, “otherwise I would’ve skipped out.”
He wants to ask why, but the answer seems obvious—no one wants to see their teacher outside of school.
“I don’t usually make a habit of letting my students see me like this.” He motions to his get-up, hair loose and clothes even looser, aside from the obviously homemade jacket he wore, patches hand stitched and worn at the seams, but the weirdest part of it all—the ripped jeans. It felt out of place for someone nearing their thirties. He catches your gaze, the judgement evident. “My point exactly.”
“So, that’s why you don’t know how to tie a tie.” You challenge, taking a long sip of beer, eyebrow quirked in amusement as you swallow, cheeks puffed out by the liquid.
He scoffs softly, amused at your comeback. “We shouldn’t even be talking right now, you know that?” He points out, yet he hasn’t moved an inch, still close enough that if you decided to separate your thighs, he’d fit perfectly.
You hum quietly, “Yet, you’re still here.” Another beer down, another slipped into your hand like clockwork, throwing it back easily. “So, who’s fault is that?”
Him being the responsible adult and all, not that it really mattered here. This would be a level playing field outside of any other circumstance.
“Wait—can I ask a personal question?” And maybe it was the alcohol talking.
“No—“ He answers quickly, but your brain bypasses it.
“How old are you?” You ask curiously, “You look too young to be a professor.”
Eddie looks stunned, affected by your forwardness, but he takes it in stride. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment—I’m twenty nine, a couple years older than Nancy and Robin.”
You don’t press on the additional information, but nod thoughtfully, taking another quick sip of your beer.
“Sorry—it was bugging me. I have a bad problem with filtering my thoughts.” You admit sheepishly, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, fiddling with the flimsy zipper on your skirt.
“Clearly,” Eddie laughs, bringing the bottle to his lips slowly, stopping just as his lips pressed the rim, “Are you even old enough to be drinking?”
“Are you going to kick me out if I’m not?” You challenge playfully, Eddie doesn’t bite, looking you down accusingly.
It was as if he suddenly shifted back into teacher mode, judging your choices and feeling the need to scold you.
“I’m twenty one,” You tell him, “don’t have a fucking stroke over it.”
You don’t know why Eddie’s eyes shift, scanning full body, like he’s trying to take all of you in—both of your contrasting styles outside of school are a welcomed surprise; he doesn’t really expect it from you. But, you could say the same for him.
“Wasn’t gonna,” He assures you, nursing the beer near his mouth, forearms leaned against the bar now as he looks toward you, eyes catching the way your fingers fiddled with the label on the bottle, “you cold?”
Your leg crosses over the other, goosebumps riddling your skin—it’s like he’s a mind reader, the entrance door of the bar swinging open, a cold blast of air spreading throughout. “Not really.” You lie, gripping the end of your skirt to shift it down.
You could’ve been more practical, shown up in jeans and some worn out band shirt, but you wanted to look nice—feel cute and dressed up for once, was that a crime?
“Hey, there you are,” Max calls from behind you, scattering toward you with a wide-eyed Lucas in tow, “so you met Eddie?”
You turn in your seat, staring the fiery redhead down, a smile plastered on her freckle covered face.
“You too?” You ask incredulously, glancing toward Eddie, who seemed rather unfazed by it all now. “What the hell?”
“He used to live across from me, back in high school,” Max explains, which makes sense.
You moved after middle school, leaving most of Hawkins in your rear view, aside from the occasional letters to Max—both of you swore that despite the distance, college was your nonnegotiable; both of you applied, both of you got accepted, it was some sort of divine miracle, but neither of you questioned it.
“Small world,” Eddie shrugs from beside you, finishing off the last sip of his beer, “you staying out of trouble, Red?”
“Probably not,” She replies honestly, before turning to you sheepishly, “—do you think Robin will give you a ride home?”
“Max,” You groan, her look switching from hesitant to pleading, “fine—whatever, I’ll talk to Robin.”
“I love you,” She says endearingly, wrapping you into a quick forceful hug, nearly knocking you from your chair, “I owe you one.”
“Uh huh,” You reply sarcastically, waving her away, “See you tomorrow.”
When you turn, Eddie is slapping a fresh bill on the counter-top, returning his chained wallet back to his pocket.
“I guess I’ll be seeing you Monday.”
Saying it makes it even weirder.
“I won’t tell anyone.” You assure him, seeing the way his eyes catch yours, almost thankful. He doesn’t have to say it—he didn’t take you for the type to brag, but still, it’s a comforting confession. “I promise.”
The last part feels like too much, but Eddie smiles regardless, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders, preparing for the crisp, cold air that awaits him.
Robin, find Robin. Your brain scrambled, searching around for your friend—or Nancy, but neither of them are anywhere inside of the bar.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding.
“Everything okay?” Eddie asks softly, pulling the hair caught under the lapel of his jacket.
“I think they left,” You frown slightly, preparing yourself to walk several blocks until the nearest bus station, feet already sore and achy from the uncomfortable heels you wore, “Robin and Nance.”
And Eddie has the internal battle with himself for at least half a minute, weighing the odds of how uncomfortable this could be, or how creepy it may come off, but he wasn’t going to leave you high and dry—he wasn’t raised that way.
“Where am I taking you?” He asks suddenly, swinging his keys into his palm.
“Huh?” There was no way you were taking a ride from your teacher, of all people. “—I’m fine, really. I just need to walk far enough to the bus stop.”
“In those?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring down at the heels that hugged your feet like a vice grip, already sore from only a couple hours of use. “It’s not a big deal—are you going back to campus?”
You nod hesitantly.
Eddie motions toward the door and you follow obediently—your feet could thank you later. You knew there was no harm in a ride home, either, Eddie was far from the normal sketchy men around Hawkins, but it didn’t feel right. It felt like keeping a secret from your parents and doing something that had persistently told you not to, or how often the school system looked down on relations with staff outside of school, no matter the level or severity. It seemed that Eddie was hoping you’d keep this to yourself—he was counting on it.
☆.｡.:*
“Did you enjoy the music at least?” Eddie asks halfway through the drive, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other fishes for his pack of cigarettes; a bad habit he’d yet to break.
“I mean—they were cover songs,” You shrugged, “Metallica is alright, but I prefer Bon Jovi and Quiet Riot—“
“Are you shitting on Metallica, right now?” Eddie asks, shocked by the admission. He manages to wiggle a cigarette out with one hand, tossing the box toward the middle console, “Do you mind?”
Part of you wants to say yes, just to be difficult, but you shake your head. He flicks his lighter opening, lighting the end of the cigarette until it burns a bright amber, ashes falling from the tip.
“You dress like you’re stuck in the eighties, dude.” Eddie seems offended by the comment, but takes it in stride.
“Says the lady who still listens to Bon Jovi.” Eddie sharks, pulling the cigarette from his lips, smoke billowing from his nose as he breathes, “
You hate how nice it is to watch, his soft lips pursing into a tight line. One more hit at him and he’d probably fail you out of spite, but you do it anyway.
“Says the guy still singing eighties cover songs.” Eddie winces at the jab, flicking away the ash from the cigarette, held out in the air as he searches for his retort.
“So you hated it?” Is all his brain can muster at a time like this, brain hazy from the amount of beers he consumed—you could say the same for yourself, the alcohol buzz is still ever apparent—you wouldn’t have ended up in a situation like this while stone cold sober, that’s for sure.
“No,” You reply honestly. The music was good, the performance was even better, but still—it seemed he was searching for your approval, like it would make all the difference, “but it’s the mid nineties, you need to get with the times.”
Eddie scoffs offensively, a few more puffs before he’s rubbing the cigarette to its untimely demise, pulling into the quiet campus.
“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” He says, coming to a stop, “—I hope this is close enough, the last thing I need is someone catching me dropping you off.”
Then he shouldn’t have offered a ride, which was his first mistake of many.
It’s offensive how handsome he looks under the dim lights radiating from the inside of his van—an odd choice for a teacher of his salary, but it still makes sense, somehow.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sir.” You retort, throwing the last bit in for fun—he tenses again, visibly. He doesn’t correct you, though, which is even more difficult to understand.
He offers a simple wave, friendly and polite, then he’s gone and halfway across the campus before you can even process what happened.
It also doesn’t help that the first thing you see in your dreams that night is his face—ungodly in the way he worshiped your body, from head to toe; it was definitely the alcohol talking.
☆.｡.:*
Monday drags more than you expect, having nursed your hangover during the weekend, it felt like an aftershock was trying to overtake you, your focus lacking. It wasn’t unlike you.
You replay the conversation with Eddie in your head a few times that weekend, realizing that even through your drunken haze, Eddie was not attempting to be teacherly toward you—he was friendly, a natural conversationalist, it felt wrong.
It felt even worse when you fell asleep, his head stuck between your thighs as you dreamed that night, “She’s so pretty,” His voice is faded, muffled—like he’s stuck in a tunnel and too far away, “fucking soaking wet, too.”
And it feels too real as he licks a broad stripe up your cunt, moaning obscenely as his face is coated in your wetness, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit—it’s too much for you to process.
“Good afternoon,” Eddie’s voice carries through the door to his classroom, satchel and coffee in hand, looking just as worse for wear. His hair is tied back in a loose bun, no tie today, and his slacks look like they’re been worn for a week straight, wrinkles and all, “nice to see the class has downsized.”
It has, nearly half of the original class is gone—which really, it was better for you. You couldn’t focus in large classes and it felt less personal, more disconnected than you liked.
Eddie tries desperately to keep his energy up during the duration of the lesson, but he’s lacking on all fronts—maybe he had a rough weekend?
When he hands out the first assignment near the end of class, he stops by your desk, leaning on the railing to speak to the entirety of the class, “And don’t freak out—this is just a basis to see where you heads are at in terms of what music you like, how it makes you feel, it’s just a soft introduction into some of the stuff we’ll be covering over the semester.”
It’s a list of various songs, bands, genres—a mix of things dating back to the early fifties, up until more recently. “Go out, rent some of this if you’ve never heard of it, and write what you feel—that’s it. Easy enough?”
Eddie doesn’t acknowledge you most of the class, which is expected, but disappointing. He seems preoccupied, distracted, clearly bothered by something. But, it wasn’t your problem—the only focus you had now was your course work, which was the first thing you started on that night; a very giddy Max rummaging through your dorm room as background noise, so disorganized it could drive you insane.
“He drove you here?” She asks.
“Yes—but you can’t say anything, Max. I’m serious.”
You didn’t have anything to worry about, you knew that.
“I didn’t even know he taught here—or that he was even a professor. I mean, I know he finally graduated but—“
“Finally?” You ask curiously, swiveling in your chair to face her fully, interest fully piqued.
“He had a rough time in high school—he didn’t graduate until he was twenty, I think.” She explains, busy hands now stopped in their tracks. “He’s been through a lot.”
Your eyebrows raise in question, hoping Max would spill everything she knew—you couldn’t help but be curious about him, even if he was your professor.
“He probably doesn’t even know I go here,” She laughs slightly, “His mom and dad were never in the picture, though—at least I never saw them, it’s always been him and his uncle. He hung out with Nancy, Steve, and Robin a lot—closer to when he was graduating, they’ve stayed good friends, I guess.”
You nod slowly, absorbing the information.
“Is he mean?” Max asks randomly and you almost laugh, “My professors are the worst.”
“He’s fine,” You shrug, “It’s kinda nice that he’s not such a dick, you know?”
“What does he teach again?”
“Musical therapy?” You respond, wondering if that would surface any other tidbits of information.
“Oh—that kinda makes sense. He was always listening to music, then he just disappeared after graduation, but his uncle always talked about how he was helping people, doing something he really liked—I just never bothered him about it.”
There’s a long silence before Max can’t help herself, perching herself on the surface closest to you, pens scrambling to the floor as she takes a seat on the edge of your shared desk.
“What did you guys talk about?”
“The weather,” You say flatly, not receiving any type of reaction from her, “—-just music, that’s it.”
“But, babe, you love music.” Max reminds, like it wasn’t painfully obvious.
“And—he’s my professor, it’s fucking weird.” You explain, but even Max doesn’t believe you. “What—why are you looking at me like that?”
“You two are so similar,” She laughs, “It’s freaky.”
“Maxine—what are you trying to imply?”
“Nothing,” She shrugs, hoping from the desk, “—remember that I’ll be your maid of honor at the wedding, though. We pinky swore.”
“He’s my professor, Max.” You stress again, Max smiles wide, annoying you further.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, right?” Max asks, realizing that you’d used the same playful jab at him the night before.
“What?” The coincidence was uncanny.
“Eddie used to tell me that whenever I tried to justify doing something I wasn’t supposed to—I’ve grown, obviously,” That’s not entirely believable, but you keep your mouth shut, “the saying stuck with me—it’s kinda fun to use.”
“Whatever—did you get the music I asked about?” You ask, impatiently switching the topic to something less scandalous.
“Everything was spoken for,” Max explains, trying to let you down gently, “I really tried—but I guess everyone in that class had the same idea on where to go, unless you want to take a trip to the store and buy them—“
And it dawns on you, Eddie must have some sort of music collection, “Wait—what time is it?”
Max takes a quick glimpse at the alarm clock on her nightstand, “A quarter past five, why?”
Still open for office hours—you prayed silently, despite your lack of religion, hoping that he was still in his classroom.
“Give me a ride.”
Max doesn’t question it, being the best friend she is.
☆.｡.:*
“I’m busy,” He says before you can even knock on the door, your loud ascending footsteps giving you away, “come back in the morning.”
You peek through the window of the door anyways, seeing a perfectly relaxed Eddie reclined at his desk, feet propped up as he jotted something down in a book, tongue poked out in focus.
“Uh Professor…Munson,” It felt foreign and weird, “I just had a question.”
His demeanor changes on a dime at the sight of you, unbusying himself completely. It’s a little hysterical, but endearing nonetheless. It makes your stomach flutter at the sight, scrambling to button his shirt higher, seem more professional, not that you hadn’t already seen him outside of work.
The door creaks open, his head popping through as you back away, “What’s going on?” He asks, surprised that anyone would dare to bother him outside of normal class hours. It doesn’t take you long to realize that he only mentioned the office hours out of courtesy, he didn’t actually expect anyone to bother him.
“I was trying to work on your assignment—“ His eyes softened, and it made you flinch, feeling exposed, “I don’t really have the money to buy any of the music and everything was already rented out—-so I wasn’t sure what to do.”
“Oh,” He wasn’t sure what to expect but he finds himself opening the door wider, welcoming you inside, “Yeah—a few students raided my shelf before class was over but I’m sure there’s some left.”
“Thanks,” You reply shyly, squeezing beside him, watching as he lingered by the door still, hands shoved into fists in his pockets, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, sir—“
“You can call me Eddie—here, at least.” And that definitely doesn’t feel appropriate, but if he’s insisting, well…
“Sorry, it just feels…strange, I guess.” It’s not how you wanted to describe it, but it’s the only word that comes to mind. “I can’t imagine how weird it is running into your students outside of class.”
“Probably as weird as it feels running into your teacher,” He adds playfully, lightening the mood. It’s nice that he’s not so bothered by all of it, “Oh—I’ve got some Elvis in there, a lot of classic rock. I’m not sure about the newer stuff, though.”
“Max has some of it.” You comment without thinking, sifting through the box of music, picking and choosing as you went.
“Max?”
“She’s—she’s my roommate here.” You answer quietly, unable to meet his eyes as he walks closer, leisurely making his way around his desk.
“I guess I should’ve put that together,” He says, taking a moment to examine the sweater you’d shoved on, “You two share a closet?”
“Among other things.” You smile, grasping the stack of Cd's in your hand, “How did you know?”
You share a glance down at the faded sweater, reading off the name of some random skate shop back in rural Hawkins, a place you’ve never stepped foot inside of.
“I got that for Red on her sixteenth birthday, before I left.”
Eddie’s frowning now, nearly unnoticeable, but you see the way his mouth creases, eyes turned down. “It’s her favorite,” You say, in an attempt to make the mood less dark, “but I always steal it from her—she’s let me take residency over it at this point.”
“It looks nice,” Eddie says suddenly, feeling the slip up as it slides off his tongue, rambling even further as he says, “on you—I mean, it’s a nice sweater—that’s why I bought it.”
You laugh softly, bottom lip jutting out as your mouth curls into a smile. “Thanks, Eddie.”
He scratched at his temple, ringed finger shining against the light refracting from the lamp on his desk. You’ve never noticed it before—or them, since his hand was adorned with three, that you could see.
“Hey, those are cool—“ You point out, finger pressed in the direction of his upheld hand. He stops, views his hand, almost like he’s forgotten he was wearing them, “I’ve noticed them before.”
“I try not to wear them during class hours, the administration thinks it’s unprofessional.” The nature of the rings, not the fact that he wore them—if he had a wedding ring it wouldn’t matter, but the thought of marriage made Eddie want to vomit.
“Fuck ‘em.” You say crudely, shoulder shrugged In indifference.
Eddie’s mouth hangs open slightly at the sudden outburst, amusement flooding his face, “I’m still your professor—probably should keep that type of language to a minimum.”
You snort at his indication that he had any type of hold over what you do—he couldn’t be further from the point.
“Or what?” You say challengingly, “This isn’t high school—it’s not like you can give me detention or tell my parents.”
“I am the one handling your grades.” He counters, hip leaned against the edge of his desk. Your free hand travels to your waist, slipping underneath the sweater to rest against the skin.
“You don’t intimidate me—I hope you know that.” You remind him carefully, eyes narrowing in his direction. “The other’s are terrified of you, but that shit doesn’t work on me.”
And he should know better—you shouldn’t even be here and he definitely should be flirting with a student, if you could call it that. Was this flirting? Was this crossing the line? He’s studied body language for a long time, through the process of his treatment of people, and he can’t help but notice how relaxed you seem, almost enjoying the back and forth.
“You should go,” He says quickly, avoiding any further lines being blurred or crossed or misconstrued; you were his student and it was unprofessional, “my office hours are closing soon.”
“Uh huh.” You nod slowly, adjusting the stack of music under your arm, watching the way Eddie’s fingers drum against the desk impatiently, like he can’t wait to get you out of there.
If he was really that bothered, he could’ve said something.
“Thanks again, professor.” You say with grandeur, motioning to the stack of Cd's, “It’s greatly appreciated.”
Eddie tries to ignore the small sliver of skin that shows underneath your slightly raised top that was no longer obscured by your hand, almost like you’re doing it on purpose.
Which, yes, you absolutely were.
You slip by him silently, avoiding the way his eyes follow you. It felt predatorial, but not uncomfortable—and that’s what you hated about it.
He didn’t look at you as a student—he looked at you like something else; you couldn’t put your finger on it.
Eddie turns on the heels of his shoes, “I expect those back tomorrow,” He warns, but there’s no sense of actual ramifications behind it.
You don’t answer fully, a small nod that Eddie doesn’t quite notice. He grabs the sleeve of your sweater gently, his fingertips pressing against your covered arm. “I mean it.”
You look at the hand that gripped your arm for far too long, Eddie still holding on just as hard. “I know.” You appease him, “And if I don’t—you know where to find me.”
The glance to your desk is silent, but done in unison.
“Wanna let go now, sir?”
Eddie hates the way his dick twitches under the material of his corduroy slacks, releasing the bunch of material from his grip. You half-expect him to scold you for the remark, but he’s speechless, for once in his life.
“Sorry,” He apologizes, feeling like he’s made things uncomfortable, but it’s so far from that—he has no idea, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“On time, hopefully.”
It’s just another playful comment, but it has Eddie gripping his thigh from the inside of his pocket, muscles tensed in frustration.
You leave with a wordless smile that’s burned into Eddie’s mind for the rest of mankind—and it’s definitely not the first thing he thinks about when he slips his boxers down his thighs that night, cock still half-hard from earlier in the evening.
☆.｡.:*
He becomes a permanent fixture in your dreams as the weeks grow on, unbeknownst to him—not that he can say much for himself either, annoyed by the finite nerve you have to walk into his classroom, skirt pulled halfway up your waist, ass barely peeking out of the bottom of the pleated material.
He knows it’s wrong and going against all of the rules set it place for this very reason, but he can’t help himself. So, he suffers in silence—not that it was anything new to him, he’s done it his entire life; under different circumstances and situations perhaps, but the basics of it still remained.
“Fuck—spread your legs,” His voice is hushed, quiet against the skin of your leg as he sucks a deep purple mark into the skin, jerking at the touch of cold metal, the outside of his rings grazing your thighs, “wanna taste you.”
It feels too real—you toss and turn in your sleep restlessly most nights, dreaming about your professor with his hands around your thighs and his mouth buried deep into your cunt.
And with little to no interaction during class, aside from the occasional glance in your direction, he kept his distance—which wasn’t a surprise, he had no idea.
He had no idea that his student was practically pining after him. It doesn’t help that you’ve seen him outside of the classroom, dress downed and free of an inhibitions or rules; it was a special kind of torture.
It’s late October when Eddie speaks to you directly, alone—he’s got most of the class set up on various different instruments of their choosing, allowing them to feel them out and play freely, and somehow—by some fucked up fate, you get stuck with a six string and not a clue how to play.
Fake playing wasn’t working, Eddie could spot it from a mile away. You don’t chance the glance up at him, but the squeak of his shoes is enough warning, bracing for whatever remark was going to be sent your way.
“Have you ever played before?” He says instead and your eyes immediately shoot up to him, all previous restraint thrown out the window.
“No, not really.” You say truthfully, watching as Eddie pulled up a chair in front of you, facing the back of it in your direction, thigh swinging over the side—his jeans tightening with the action, along with your thighs. You really needed to get your shit together.
“Here,” His hands come out to rest over yours, adjusting your left hand over the base of the guitar, your right hand around the neck, “This is A,” He presses your finger over the cord, instructing your other hand to strum.
It’s slightly out of tune, but the guitar seems old—probably provided by the college rather than Eddie himself, “That’s good,” He praises calmly, “Now try playing an A sharp,” He guides your hand further down the neck, the warm, rough skin of his hand covering your own. He feels tough and worn and you notice the small cuts around his fingertips at this proximity, breath catching as his hand grasps around the wrist that was actively strumming the guitar, “it’s really complicated at first, there’s a lot to learn.”
“Clearly,” You say, forcing down the smile that threatened to break through, “how long have you played?”
He seems surprised that you cared or even tried to ask.
“Since I was about twelve, probably.” He answers honestly, “More than half my life.”
Eddie still hasn’t moved his hands, either—he can’t be bothered. It doesn’t look as incriminating as you thought, but still, you knew. He helps you play through a few more notes until he’s gotten you to the point of playing a small, five second tone—but it’s all you can really manage.
“It takes a while.” He assures you, not that you wanted to pick up a guitar again after this.
“Why don’t you play?” You ask sweetly, smiling flashing with nothing but devious intent, handing the guitar over toward your professor.
“Nono—I’m really not—“ He protests, setting the guitar back on its stand beside you.
“Not what? That good?” You ask curiously, he was worse at lying to himself than he was to you.
“Are we forgetting how I saw you play that night?” You ask quietly, nothing how his gaze lingered with yours, “Because if that wasn’t you then—“
He gives you a muted look of warning, wanting you to drop the topic of conversation, but you can’t be bothered. He wasn’t in charge of you, not really.
“You can play a Dio song blindfolded, I bet,” You point out, still keeping enough of a hushed town that only Eddie can hear, “Your eyes were closed that entire set.”
“It was my first time back home in a while,” He defends lamely, “It helps with the nerves.”
“I thought it was really good.”
Eddie’s eyes light up in a way you can’t ignore, bordering on shock and adoration, it’s the first real smile you’ve seen from him.
The end of class comes quicker than you want it to, forced to pack your belongings back into your bag in a rush, everyone’s already managed to file out before you can even think of zipping your bag up.
“Hey,” Eddie calls out, every other student already long gone, “here, take this.”
It’s a flyer, similar to the one Max shoved into your hands a few weeks prior.
A different bar, same band; one night only.
“I’m probably breaking a thousand rules by giving you that,” He explains carefully, “but maybe you and Max could come out and watch us play—tell her I’ll even throw in some free Kate Bush.”
Your smile is warm, folding the flyer and stuffing it into your pocket. “I told you—I’m not the type to blab, Eddie.”
You hate how easy it feels to say his name in such a setting, still dressed up in his ridiculous attempt at seeming studious and professional. You knew he hated it, he knew it too.
“I can ask her—if not, I’ll still show.” You tell him.
He was only inviting Max to be courteous, but that wasn’t up for him to decide whether or not you actually brought her along. Either way, he was appreciative. He knew that a lot of the support he received back home was mostly done out of obligation and sympathy, but with—it felt real. He didn’t know you, he didn’t have anything to prove to you, and more importantly, you were genuine and honest; he hated that you took up this class. Hated it.
“It’s not a big deal if you can’t.” He offers as an out.
There was no way you were going to miss it, not with how Eddie was looking at you now; despite the circumstance, it was so blatantly obvious to you how badly you wanted him.
“Eddie, I’ll be there.” You assure him once more.
And if the smile that spreads over his face isn’t something worth worshiping, you’d surely find something else.
☆.｡.:*
The bar is small, on the complete opposite side of town—but Max still offers to drive you, but it’s definitely not for your own benefit. She hasn’t shut up about Eddie since you’d told her the situation, the weird looks he gives you, and the horrible filthy dreams you’ve been having; sans the super embarrassing details. She gets it—it’s incredibly amusing to her, but she gets it.
“You sure you don’t want to stay?” You asks, fingers tapping nervously against the ripped denim of your jeans, frayed material pulled between your fingertips. “He did invite you.”
“Babe, I’m doing you a favor.” Max interjects, halfhearted smirk on her face.
“He’s my teacher—for the last time,” You begin, beyond desperation, the words falling from your tongue weren’t even believable to your own ears, “I’m not trying to fuck him, Max.”
“I did not say anything about fucking him,” She laughs amusingly, turning into the parking lot of the bar, “—it’s just not as weird as you’re making it out to be. I’ve known Eddie for a long time.”
“You’re really missing the point.” You say, rubbing the frustration on your face away with your hands, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.
“Oh whatever, don’t tell me you suddenly have some strict moral compass,” Max replies flippantly, “you want to screw him and you know it.”
The suspense is enough of an answer. There was no lying to Max, she knew just about every deepest, darkest secret you carried.
She pulls to a stop outside the entrance, turning toward you carefully, “Also—I can’t pick you up so you’re gonna have to ask him for a ride. I love you.” She rambled it off in one breath, barely giving you time to process. “See you tomorrow?”
It’s the one fight you decide not to pick with her, because for some reason, you know it’s for your own good.
“Hey—you made it!” The familiar voice calls from behind you—Eddie, guitar case in hand, the rest of his band mates in tow. “Red.” He acknowledges, offering her a nod. “There’s parking in the back.”
“Oh—I’m not staying,” She shouts from the driver’s side, “take care of her or I’ll murder you, Munson.”
Max is pulling off before you have any last fleeting chance to run, leaving both you and Eddie at a loss for words.
“Pulled a fast one, didn’t she?” Eddie asks after a moment, gathering by your side, following you into the bar. “She’s sneaky as hell, I’ll give her that.”
“Yeah, you could say that.” You huff softly, watching your step as you crossed the threshold, hit in the face with the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer.
“A beaut, isn’t she?” Eddie asks sarcastically, but despite that, the bar still garnered a decent amount of attention, packed to the brim with older gentlemen—nothing like bars near campus.
“I think I found your target audience,” You joke lightly, catching the smirk that crosses Eddie’s face as you glance over your shoulder. “I’ll fit right in.”
Eddie slaps a twenty into your hand, “Here, drinks on me—since I forced you here,” You look at him reluctantly, “I don’t want to hear it.”
“I didn’t plan on drinking tonight.” You insist, forcing the bill back into his hand, “I’ll be okay.”
“You sure?” He asks, eyeing you carefully, like he’s trying to find a hint or tell, something to figure out what exactly your mind was fighting against—which right now, it was the fact that Eddie looked ridiculous with eyeliner, yet, still criminally attractive.
It’s exactly why you shouldn’t have come tonight, because whatever could happen—you weren’t sure if you had it in you to shut down.
You nod with finality. Eddie takes the money back reluctantly, stuffing it into his front pocket. He feels terrible that you have to sit there, alone—all to watch a shitty cover band play a few songs.
But to you, it was worth it.
You sit and wait, forcing away the bartender a few times until he finally gets the message, leaving you be. It’s quiet, aside from the hum of laughter and idle conversation, Eddie and his group setting up silently onstage—that impending feeling in your gut expanding further as you watch him move around, guitar strap swung over his neck, watching shamelessly as he adjusts the instrument against his body.
He catches your eyes then, sending you a cheeky smile that has you face burning on the spot—at this point, you care less about your professional relationship, if it could even be considered that.
Eddie plays with all the gusto you expect, belting out lyric after lyric on his performance high; it’s unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed. It’s hard not to compare him to his classroom demeanor, more restrained and relaxed—it was forced, that was easy to tell. But this—this was Eddie, unafraid and free to behave how he pleased, it was unfair how attractive he was, both in looks and personality. It felt like you’d know him longer than just a few weeks; months maybe? Years?
It was like hanging out with an old friend, discovering new and old things about one another; you’d spill your heart to him at a moment’s notice if he asked—and that’s why this felt so dangerous.
☆.｡.:*
“How was it?” Eddie asks as he rounds the corner, still slightly out of breath and face covered in a sheen of sweat. You hand him a napkin in silence and he laughs, but accepts the offer.
“Good,” You smile honestly, “I really enjoyed the gradual crescendo from Holy Diver into Living After Midnight—“
Eddie could kiss you on the spot, which is such a startling thought that it stops all thinking completely—you were absolutely too good to be true, it was a constant reminder every time you spoke, making him fight with this taboo feeling more and more every day.
“Do you still need a ride home?” He asks suddenly, interrupting your waterfall of compliments, “I was going to head out already.”
“Well, considering Max left me stranded,” You say with an empty bitterness, knowing that her attentions were mostly good, “yes, I do.”
Eddie nods a silent direction—and just like the first night, you follow without question.
☆.｡.:*
The foot that isn’t pressed on the gas pedal is shaking insistently, leg bouncing against the leather of Eddie’s seat, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He can hear you humming, mumbling the song on the radio to yourself, another classic—one of Eddie’s favorites, and he really can’t help himself anymore.
It was just a small, innocent indulgence. Who could it really hurt? You were both consenting, capable adults—and the worst thing you could do was turn him down, which Eddie really hoped wasn’t the case, but he was beyond caring about norms and rules, driven by the pure fact that he just wanted—wanted you, in any sense of the word.
“What are you doing?” You ask curiously, watching as Eddie searched idly through his stack of music, somehow still managing his focus on the road.
“Changing the song,” He comments simply, pushing the disc into the player—the soft synth of the song pushing through the speakers of his van, “do you know it?”
“Corey Hart, right?” You ask, taking a wild guess. You’d only heard the song once, but it was still catchy enough that it stuck around in your brain, “I didn’t picture you as the type.”
“You’d be surprised.” He comments oddly, turning the volume up slightly.
He notices the humming again, the small head bop along to the beat. “You like it.”
It’s more of a statement, rather than a question. You catch the side of his face, the small glint in his eye as he focuses back on the road.
“That's presumptuous of you,” You retort, hands twisting in your lap, “it’s alright, I guess.”
“Mind if I do a little study?” He asks hesitantly, breath catching in your throat for half a second.
“Of me?” You ask with a laugh, “I mean—if you want?”
“Your heart is racing, for one,” Eddie points out slyly, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest as the beat picked up, chorus running through the silence that filled the air, “and you’re squeezing your hands.”
“Okay, genius,” You remark, “You’ve got eyes, good for you.”
He’s not really using his degree in this situation, it’s more of an innocent observation of the already underlying tension that Eddie couldn’t help but notice—the obvious body language giving you away. The song was just a secret favorite of his, but you didn’t need to know that, not yet.
“Mind I make one?” You ask, “An observation, I mean.”
What was the harm in it anyways? Eddie nods for you to continue.
“You’ve been shaking your leg since we left.” You point out, the bouncing coming to an abrupt stop, “and I’ve never seen you do that—ever.”
“It’s the after performance buzz.” He replies cooly, but you can’t be bothered to believe it. “It’s not that unusual.”
“Eddie—you’re making that up,” You tell him, eyeing burning into the side of his face, “what’s your deal?”
“My deal?”
“Yeah—why are you lying?” It’s a bold question to ask, heart fluttering in your chest. But, the way he looks at you has your legs crossing in frustration, squeezing together to relieve that ache growing between your legs.
“So, you want to pretend I didn’t notice that either?” He asks, eyeing the full expanse of your body before stopping on your legs, still firmly crossed in the seat, hands white knuckling each other under the long sleeves of your shirt. “Uncross your legs.”
“What? No.” You scoff, offended by his forwardness for a brief moment.
Eddie slips his hand under your knee wordlessly, prying your legs apart. You can’t help but look at him as if he’s lost his fucking mind—that doesn’t stop your legs from following his order. It made the ache that much worse.
“Don’t,” He warns hesitantly, the small shift in your leg giving you away, “it’s not gonna help.”
“Help what?” You reply dumbly, “I can’t cross my legs? Is that a crime?”
Eddie’s gaze lingers for far too long, noticing the flush of your chest and the way it creeps up your cheeks—they felt like they were on fire. In the midst of all the back and forth, it’s hard to keep focus on the main fact at play—teacher, student, your mind screaming, wrong.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
“I can help.” He makes a subtle nod toward you.
It didn’t take a genius to know what he was talking about. You were very well aware of the issue. You want to weigh your options, come up with some stupid reason to wiggle out if the situation—but nothing comes to mind. The way Eddie’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel has you digging your nails into your own thigh—you’re going to cave, you can feel it.
“Eddie.” You warn, watching as his hands lingers toward the gear shift, resting against the cracked and worn down plastic covering.
“Our secret, right?” He teases, like this whole situation wasn’t built on secrecy. You nod willingly, legs spreading a few inches wider. His fingers trail the seam of your jeans, stopping on the button, popping it open with deft fingers. “Move this way—yeah, there.”
And when his fingers breach the seam of your underwear, your mind sings a soft praise of release, watching as his hand forces its way into the tight space, leaving him no other option but to cup your cunt with his full palm.
There was no turning back now.
His middle finger drags through your folds testingly, matching the slow undulating beat of the song, like this was a game to him. You have no idea how to handle your hovering hands, too afraid to touch him, so they wrap around the headrest behind your head, fingers gripped tightly together.
Your legs spread wider, giving him better access—you were rutting into his hand at the shift of position, feeling that familiar tingle of pleasure as it shot through your body, mixed with the feeling of a bite of forbidden fruit, avoiding Eddie’s heated gaze as he shifted between you and the road.
It feels reckless and stupid, but you can’t find the courage to stop.
The first dip of his finger is like heaven, feeling unfamiliar after so long, despite how often you touched yourself, you couldn’t remember the last time there had ever been anyone else but you—not since the first summer after you graduated; freshly eighteen and naive, letting a much older man have you how he wanted—it’s uncanny, the situation your in now. But this, it doesn’t feel like that.
“Fuck—“ Your voice catches, stomach clenching at the curl of his middle finger as it slipped inside of you and back out, pace so insufferably slow, “—need more.”
“There she is,” He smiles to himself, confidence oozing in his tone, “—shit, you’re such a liar.”
It takes you a minute to realize that he’s not talking to you at all—which sends you down a different wave of emotions, pussy clenching around his lone finger, gasping at the way he curls it against the soft walls of your cunt, searching desperately for something out of reach.
“How long has it been like this?” He asks curiously.
Since the moment you met him, is what you want to say.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You reply breathlessly, back arching away from the seat, cunt pressing further against his hand as he slips a second finger inside.
At the lie, Eddie stops without warning, and it gives you a headache, that slow build of pleasure deflating immediately.
“The truth,” He says, though, it’s more of a demand, “tell me.”
And fuck, if you weren’t putty in this man’s rough, calloused hands.
“Since earlier,” You reply, rewarded with the soft brush of a fingertip over your clit, you quickly unzip your jeans to allow for more room, “when I saw you onstage.”
Eddie’s groan in response tells you everything you need to hear. He slows to a stop at a red light and it’s the first real glance you share with him the entire evening, both of you seeing straight through each other, bodies overran with pleasure.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” He says, and it seems a little late for a realization like that, you can’t help but laugh, “what—you think it’s funny?”
“You’re the one with your hand down my pants, sir.” You retort, earning a disciplined squeeze as he shoves his two middle most fingers back into your cunt, molding around him like glue.
“Sorry—I know you hate that word,” You say playfully, “But do you mind if I use it? Or, do you prefer professor?”
It was your turn to play into the guilt he was feeling, though it didn’t seem to be concerning if he still had his hands shoved down your pants so willingly.
“Shut up,” He forces out, swerving slightly at the way you cunt clenched around his fingers, insides fluttering as he curves his fingers wildly, grazing that sweet spot deep inside of you, “don’t call me that.”
His hands were larger than yours, making up for all the work you missed out on.
“Too far?” You ask teasingly, knowing that was the least of your worries; all moral lines crossed, blurred, forgotten about entirely. Eddie’s fingers pull back to graze over the sensitive nub, rubbing in small, leisurely circles, “Fuck that—that feels—“
Your moan is so unashamed that it surprises you, hips bucking up into his hands as you nearly leapt out of the seat.
Eddie can’t take the suffering much longer, pulling off onto the winding side road, tucked into a nest of trees. He unbuckles his seatbelt, allowing fuller access as he turns toward you, switching his hands with practiced ease—you couldn’t even open your eyes, face drawn up in pleasure. You knew the moment you looked at him you were done for.
“Look at me,” His voice echoes alongside the melodic tune of the song, his fingers matching the catchy beat—the damn music aficionado he was, toying with you, fingers strumming against your swollen clit like the strings of his guitar, “—I said, look at me.”
Your body works for you, eyes opening on instinct—his voice was rough, authoritative, leaving no room for argument.
“Good girl—It’s what you wanted, right?” He asks with a semblance of a smirk on his face, “It’s why you came tonight?”
You laugh weakly at his words, double entendre, unable to go unnoticed, “As far as I’m concerned, no one’s came tonight.”
His eyes darken, shifting toward your cunt, covered by your clothes, his wrist poking out above the thin material of your underwear.
“You can stop—stop acting like this is my fault,” You hiccup, gasping as he applies heavy pressure to your clit, rubbing steadily, hating how shameful it feels as your cunt clenches around nothing, wishing his fingers were still buried inside you. “Please—fuck, I just—“
All self restraint forgotten, you hand searches for his face, finding its way into his curls, pulling gently at the root, the softest hint of a grunt falling from his lips—the first noticeable sign all evening that he was even slightly affected by this—by you.
And maybe you’ve gone too far, the idea of touching him is where things go wrong, but you can’t be bothered to hold yourself together anymore.
“It’s okay,” He assures you, leaning over the middle console, hand working quickly against your cunt, moaning loudly into the confines of the car, ashamed at how wrecked you sound, “I like it.”
He must’ve noticed your expression, lingering on his face—you could do anything and he’d fall to his knees.
“It hurts—“ You plead, begging for release, “—please?”
It sounds too pretty coming from you, deciding that putting you out of your misery was easier than watching you suffer, on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm, Eddie’s hands feeling so much better than your own, or anyone that’s touched you before.
Your mouth hangs open on a wordless gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the force at which your high hits you, his fingers gently coaxing you through the descending pulse of your orgasm, near the point of over stimulation.
“Okayokay—“ You ramble, fingers wrapping around the length of his wrist as you pulled him away, heart skipping in your chest at the sight of his fingers flexing against your stomach as he pulls away, fingers covered in your wetness as a result of what just happened.
Your head rests against the back of the seat, chest heaving rapidly as you try to catch your breath. “Not that I’m complaining—“ Eddie’s voice pulls you out of your hypnosis, “but you might wanna let go.”
“Shit—I’m sorry,” You apologize softly, letting go of his hair, looking at him sheepishly, hands returning to your lap to fix your pants.
The song had ended long ago, the gentle rumble of the engine filling the quiet like an ambiance, realization settling between you both.
Who speaks first?
He’s quiet, wiping his hands on a black handkerchief that he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere, before stuffing it into his back pocket—where it must’ve been all along.
“I’m—“
“Should I—“
The stare you hold is long and tense, brimming with even more sexual tension than before, searching for some way to cope with whatever just happened.
He glanced down at the hard bulge of his jeans, noticing the way your gaze catches. He shifts, pulling at the front of his jeans to adjust himself. “It’s fine.” He lies, not ready to allow this to go any further than it should have.
“I don’t mind,” You reply slowly, voice hesitant as you lean forward, “I want to.”
He feels himself flex at the thought, the idea of your mouth—or even your hand, wrapped around, he was ruined. But, he’s insistent.
“I need to get you back to campus, right?” He asks, though the answer is obvious. It was a grasping at straw attempt to change the subject. “Red’s probably worried about you.”
Not a fucking chance.
“Yeah—you’re right.” You answer, trying to hide dejection, wanting nothing more than to touch him, as intimately as he had you. “We should go.”
It’s like he’s turning on his classroom demeanor before your eyes—and frankly, it’s ridiculous. He’s regretting every choice he just made and you know it, watching as he flips the gear into place, back on the road with one swift twist of the steering wheel.
And it could’ve been the heat of the moment or the copious amount of drinks that Eddie had been offered that night, obscuring his rational thinking—but he didn’t reek of alcohol, not a single drop on his breath. So, if anything, it was regret, obvious and plastered over his entire face.
But to Eddie, it's shame.
Shame at the idea of breaking so many rules, risking his job at the hands of some young women—who he couldn’t help but be lured by, entranced at how much of an enigma you were. He couldn’t describe it, couldn’t even put it into words.
And even after he drops you off that night, he comes in his hand, against the soft expanse of his stomach, the image of your face in his mind as you come apart by the work of his own hand.
He knew there was no going back, allowing himself to fully succumb to the idea that if you were willing to let him have you like that, you’d let him do just about anything.
It was exactly what you wanted.
author's note: and an extra special thank you to @hellfirehoe for dealing with my nonstop horny thoughts about this and helping me proofread.
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fic#my writing#1kfic#5kfic
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𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary: eddie's got a late night bone to pick with you; only one minor sexual inconvenience in the way, but that doesn't stop you from picking up his call and eddie doesn't want to hang up either.
cw: 18+ (minors dni), virgin!reader, phone sex, mutual masturbation, really talkative reader & eddie (these two never shut up), lots of dirty talk, small innocence!kink, mentions to reader's body (only compliments, no descriptions), if i missed anything pls let me know.
word count: 3.4k — part two, part three
The deep coiling heat undulated through your entire body, fingers curling inside you at an angle that wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. That dull ache digging at you, like an annoying itch you couldn’t scratch. It felt close, yet so far of that you couldn’t even reach it. You sighed harshly, eyes drifting close in hopes that maybe it would help—anything, just some peace and quiet, forcing your mind to focus on the feeling of your body and nothing else, finger dipping into your the slick wetness of your cunt, dragging up slowly toward your clit—yes, that helped. You breathed deep, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves, that familiar tinge of want and pleasure radiating throughout your entire body, building, and building—-
The bloodcurdling ring of your phone cuts through the air, nestled in the corner of your bedside table. You’ve never wanted to smash something into pieces so much in your entire life.
Who the fuck could be calling at this time of night?
You yank the phone from its resting place, cord wrapping around your wrist in the process, but you couldn’t be bothered to fix it. You lean over the bed slightly, settled onto your side, before answer with a very clipped:
“What?”
“Who pissed you off, princess?” Eddie fucking Munson.
It never failed.
“If you keep talking, it’s going to be you.” You retort, still mildly aware of the hand tucked between your legs, not touching anymore, but hovering, waiting for this painful phone call to end.
“Harsh.” Eddie replies, feigning a weak implication of hurt in his tone. “I just wanted to let you know that you grabbed my dice by mistake after the campaign tonight.”
Fuck. You squeezed your eyes closed, tapping the speaker of the phone against your head in frustration. You had been so quick to rush out of there today, you didn’t even think, blindly grabbing your shit and hightailing it home.
“And I hate to make a big deal about it, but those are my lucky dice.” He points out. You can’t help the eye roll that escapes you, Eddie could practically hear it through the phone.
“And this couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” You ask impatiently. The man was wasting precious time, time that you would be spending doing something much more enjoyable. “I’m busy.”
It comes out, a Freudian slip. You could’ve just assure him you’d bring them in the morning and the conversation would be null and void, but no; now Eddie was intrigued.
“Busy? It’s midnight—what the hell could you be busy with right now?” He asks, attempting to compile a list of reasons but coming up with a big fat goose egg.
“Sleeping, Eddie.” You deadpan.
“You don’t sound like it.” Eddie says honestly. “Wait, were you—“
“Eddie!” You yell, a desperate attempt to stop where this conversation was headed—but Eddie, ever the persistent.
“Ha!” He laughs, seemingly clapping his hands together over the phone, “I knew you weren’t so innocent—all that bullshit about never being kissed and—“
“Ed-die,” You stress, begging him to tone down the teasing. It wasn’t that you felt ashamed, everything you’d told him was true. You hadn’t explored much outside of yourself—you know your body best and that was all that mattered. Why did you even need the help?
“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes sincerely, “I didn’t mean to interrupt, really. If I had known, I would’ve just waited until tomorrow.”
“There’s no way you could’ve, dipshit.” Eddie snorts at the nickname, savoring the bite in your tone. “Besides, it helps me sleep.”
“Shit, me too.” He laughs softly and you can’t help but laugh either, though it only lasts a few seconds before you’re mentally shoving your hand over your mouth, begging your brain to process shit before it comes out of your mouth. “It’s not that easy, is it? Trying to concentrate and everything.”
Your eyebrows pull together in confusion, wondering why he hadn’t just hung up the phone. But, he continues; you can’t help but listen.
“Not when I have meatheads like you bothering me,” You snark, the dull ache in your cunt still hadn’t settled, and you really hated yourself for your next move, but it was necessary.
Your finger rubs over your clit gently, slow enough that you can keep your composure, but allow just enough relief that it wasn’t bothering you as much.
“Not a meathead—That’s reserved for Jason and his band of assholes.” You could appreciate his mutual distaste, feeling bad for stacking him in with them.
“Sorry.” You meant it.
“It’s fine, princess.”
You’re so used to the term that it really shouldn’t bother you, it hardly ever does, but with your hands down your underwear, attempting to work yourself through a desperately needed orgasm, you couldn’t help but play it in your head, the sound of his voice, like a tape on repeat.
And this felt so wrong, but Eddie noticed your prolonged silence. He leans into it, nudging you further.
“Do you need help?” He asks innocently, his voice remaining it’s normal bravado, but you can feel the anticipation in the way he waits for your answer.
“With touching myself?” You ask boldly; what a night this was turning into. “I think I’m good on that.”
“No with, you know, getting there.” He says coyly and you can hear the should shrug through the phone, the way his head tilts to the side innocently. “I can help, if you want.”
“You wanna help me orgasm?” You ask, still gathering what little sanity you had left for the night. “Over the phone?”
“Sure,” He says easily. This didn’t feel real and maybe you were having some fucked up dream you’d wake up from any moment; another weird sex dream, albeit almost always involving your one particular friend, who just so happened to be on the other line offering up his services, selflessly, “but only if you’re comfortable with it.”
And why wouldn’t you be? Aside from the potential awkwardness of having to face Eddie at school after this, it didn’t seem like a terrible idea—and Eddie was never the type to shove a situation like this back in your face, he knew your boundaries. Plus, you’d kill him if he ever did.
“Okay,” You agree, voice hesitant. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
“Shit, okay.” He answers, half-expecting you to back out.
You doubled down, “I don’t have a lot of time, so make it quick.”
Quick. Eddie could do quick—except he’s never done this before and has no idea what to say or do, he was going in blind.
“Uh, well,” He laughs at the absurdity of the upcoming question, “what are you wearing?”
You can’t help but roll your eyes, glancing over the outfit you were wearing. “Does it matter?”
“Not really,” He answers truthfully, “if it helps, I’m only in my boxerw—you know those ones you like to make fun of, they’re got the bats all over them.”
You laugh at the memory, Eddie bent over in front of you during Hellfire a few months back, moving some of the boxes full of theatre costumes since the group was forced to share a room and the other kids refused to put their stuff away properly. “How cute.” You'd told him and Eddie’s face burned a deep shade of red. He didn’t say anything, only pulling his pants up higher.
It was an interesting visual, you couldn’t lie. “Uh, I’m in my underwear, too—and a, uh, shirt.”
“Which one?” He asks curiously.
“Um, Hellfire, that black one. I think it's yours, actually.” Somehow that felt like the most scandalous part about all of this, being coached through your orgasm by not only your resident dungeon master, but someone who you consider a friend, “It’s nothing crazy, sorry.”
“No, no,” Eddie interrupts quickly, “That’s fine—are you—are you touching yourself, right now?”
Eddie’s free hand is resting over his boxers, palming at his growing bulge, not as satisfying as he wants it to be.
“Yeah,” You nod without thinking, feeling ridiculous after the fact, “For a while now.”
That slow, tantalizing pace you had on your clit wasn’t helping. You clear your throat, pressing harder. “You can touch yourself, too—if you want, I mean. I won’t mind.” Your face is hot with embarrassment, but it didn’t feel fair; he should be able to enjoy it too.
Eddie can feel his dick twitch against his hand, the idea of you having already been touching yourself before he even suggested anything; not that he had planned any of this, it was completely spur of the moment, but he couldn’t help himself now. “I am,” He replies after a beat, “I’m just touching myself over my boxers—kinda sucks, though.”
“Oh,” Your voice lilts, feeling that small tinge in your gut at the sight of Eddie holding his dick in his hands—you’ve never seen it before, nothing to compare it to or imagine, but still; you were picturing it, “Well, maybe you should actually touch yourself, you know? It only seems fair.”
Eddie exhales slowly, fingers shoving under the waistband of his boxers, taking hold of himself—it’s the first time he’s touched himself all week and he was in over his head, this was a terrible idea.
“God,” He sighs, falling back against his pillow, phone tucked firmly between his shoulder and ear, tugging gently at his shaft, “do you—you have anything you think about?”
“Not really,” You lie, “I just kinda—do it.” You lie again.
Eddie laughs softly, the soft sounds of his creaking bed frame were faint, but you could still hear them. It was the only thing you could think about; Eddie spread out, hands down the front of his boxers, tugging at his dick like his life depended on it.
You circle your clit absently, finger sliding down to dip inside of you. You mewl softly, letting the sound pass through your lips.
“What about you, Eddie?” And it shocks you, realizing it’s the first time you’ve said his name since you’ve started this dangerous back and forth. It comes out broken, wrapped snugly in that blissful pleasure you were trying to reach and Eddie hears it—the curse under his breath a telltale sign that he was just as wound up as you.
“Got a lot, too much to describe—never as good as the real thing, you know,” Eddie says absently, his hand an insistent tug at his cock, swelling to full hardness in his hands. He wipes the pad of his thumb over the slit, the small bit of precum helping ease the slide down, “there’s so much you’re missing out on, princess.”
Your virginity was never a main topic of conversation and Eddie didn’t make it a big deal either, but he knows how inexperienced you are outside of your own body; he wants you to enjoy it, wants you to experience how good it can feel.
“Wanna tell me about it?” You ask innocently, the pitch of your voice picking up on a certain stroke of your finger, palm dragging against your clit.
“I can’t speak for women, but for men—it’s pretty fucking good,” He starts, occasional gasps peaking through his voice, “it’s warm and wet and really tight, sometimes when they squeeze down on us—uh, it’s good. So fucking good.” Eddie tries not to sound too crass or dirty, afraid it might scare you away.
You laugh softly, his unique way of describing things never fails to surprise you, “What’s your favorite? You like when—when girls go down on you?” It’s really just curiosity, your mind racing through a million different thoughts.
Eddie huffs out a small chuckle, stopping to—what you could only guess—spit on his hand, and that had you clenching around your own fingers. It felt primal, in a way. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s good. But I, uh, like going down on a girl more—I got off once to it.”
And it shouldn't turn you on as much as it did, but goddamn if you weren't interested in hearing all about that. All common sense out of the window, you ask, “Really?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, his voice still unnaturally calm, “I was younger, but it was nice—she made all these noises, pulled my hair too hard—I didn’t think I’d like it as much as I did, but then she came while I still going down on her and it just happened.”
You sigh softly, “I’ve always wondered what it felt like,” You admit openly, “something other than my hand, it’s gotta be good, right?”
“You’ve really never done anything?” Eddie asks hesitantly—it didn’t feel judgmental, Eddie was curious; half leaning toward delirious from his sleep-deprived state.
“Never even kissed anyone, Eddie.” You say regretfully, hand stopping for a moment. “But, I’m not clueless—I’ve just never had any first hand experience.
There was a long pause, your breath catching in your throat. You can hear him on the other line, but it’s muffled. “Eddie?” You ask quietly, “Are you still there?”
“Yeah, yeah,” He sounds a little breathless, “I was getting ahead of myself, had to slow down a bit—“
“Oh.” It’s small, feeble in the way you answer him.
“You still touching yourself?”
You nod again, feeling ridiculous. “Yeah—I am. I can’t focus, though—that’s been my problem all night.”
A problem that Eddie had just the remedy for.
“Do you trust me?” He asks and your answer is instant, not a single worry in your mind.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Close your eyes,” You take a small breath, letting your eyelids fall shut, “Tell me what feels the best.”
You breathe, allowing the fear of embarrassment shed from your body, losing yourself in the conversation fully. “Uh, fingers help a little—but, this is hard to do with one hand, I usually have two, that way I can cover all my bases.”
Eddie snorts at that, a smile spread across his face. “Just squeeze the phone against your shoulder,” You quickly maneuver it, shoved properly up by your ear, allowing your other hand to reach down and touch your clit properly, fingers an inconsistent rhythm as they pump into you, still, you can’t stifle the needy moan that slips out.
“Okay,” You sound shaky, “That’s—that’s a lot better.”
You feel like it’s going to be too bold of a question and Eddie would run away immediately, but you’re too fucking curious not to ask, since he was literally jerking off on the other end—it seemed like a perfectly fair question to ask.
“Do you—What do girls usually say about—you?” It was the worst way to approach the question, but Eddie isn’t too bad at realizing the context.
“Are you asking what my dick looks like?”
He couldn’t believe this shit was happening.
“Yeah, maybe.” You answer sheepishly, “Like I said, nothing to compare.”
Eddie grins, eyes scanning over his own dick briefly.
“Uh, it’s about eight inches, give or take.” He offers, “You could definitely fit both of your hands around it, if you tried.”
There’s a beat of silence, Eddie feeling like he fucked up—it slipped out, it wasn’t a suggestion; not the he didn’t want your hands around his dick, he’d be lying if he said that out loud.
You give a small noise of acknowledgment, feeling the heat coil in your stomach—surely you weren’t thinking about Eddie’s dick. But, of course you were. “Maybe we’ll have to try that out.” You say boldly, hoping that it would elicit some type of reaction from him.
“Fuck,” It definitely worked, “Yeah—yeah, maybe we could—I could even—even, go down on you, if you wanted.” He's too worked up, barely able to form a coherent sentence.
“Yeah?” You breath, followed by a small moan from the drag of your slick covered finger over your sensitive clit, rubbing the small bundle of nerves impatiently. “Think I could make you come?”
“With those pretty little noises?” Eddie asks redundantly, “I’m a fucking goner.”
You laugh softly, choked out by the sound of your own desperate noises, the pace on your clit picking up, fingers moving on their own accord. You can’t even focus on the fingers inside of you anymore, moving a free hand toward your breasts, still slicked fingers catching against the soft bud of your nipple.
Eddie strokes himself faster, recklessly almost. He groans so loudly into the speaker that you almost lose it, phone slipping away from your ear.
“Fuck, are you okay?” Eddie asks, hazy from the grip he had at the base of his dick, desperate to keep from coming. His entire shtick was to help you, not himself; but he was failing miserably.
“Sorry, I almost dropped the phone.”
“Oh.” He’s being cheeky, you can hear it in his voice.
“Shut up,” You exhale, returning yourself to the task at hand; regardless of Eddie’s smugness. “Thought you were supposed to make me come, not tease me all night.”
“Help you,” He corrects, “Not make you—though, I mean—that’s not totally off the table.”
“Eddie.” You warn.
“Right—I guess it’s not hard for me,” Eddie starts again, voice thick with want and tension, “All I have to do is think about you with your hands between your legs and those tits—god, they’re probably perfect, I haven’t seen them, but I know. I know.”
It was like he’d dialed everything up to ten, not bothering to hold back any longer, the pleasure taking away any filter he had.
He was thinking about you, of course—it made sense, but it didn’t snuff the pulse that grew between your legs, only making it much, much worse. Whatever line was drawn was crossed the moment you agreed to this, all bets were off.
“Wish it was your hands instead,” You respond wantonly, the pad of your finger rubbing quick, small circles against your clit, “they’re so much bigger than mine.”
You gasp, gripping desperately at the sheets beneath you, no doubt having soaked through the cover already from how wet you were, it was unlike anything you’ve felt before—it was better.
“Forget my hands—can’t get the sight of you sinking down onto my dick out of my head,” He admits earnestly, groaning through the quick tugs on his shaft, his tip leaking with a copious amount of precum, bring his hand back down to squeeze at the base. Eddie has never edged himself like this before, it was almost painful. Almost.
“I don’t think it’ll fit, Eddie.” The moan he lets out is loud, guttural—the sound of skin against skin louder than ever through the speaker, he’s close. “Is that what you want? To be my first?”
“Fuckfuck—yeah, I do.”
You can’t even think anymore, saying the first thing that comes to mind.
“Want you to ruin me, Eddie.”
He’s past the point of trying to keep himself quiet, openly moaning through the receiver, “Fuck—say my name again, please.”
And you do; again and again, your cunt spasming underneath your hand, reaching the precipice of what you had been dying for all night, his name a plea as it cut off into a desperate moan.
“Shit—I’m so close—.” Eddie growls lowly, his high hitting him almost immediately after, coming all over his chest and his sheets in shirt spurts, tugging harshly at his dick.
He’s never come so hard in his life.
“You’ve gotten a fucking mouth on you.” He says breathlessly, on the way down from his orgasm. “Would’ve never guessed.”
You smile warmly, hand slipping out of your underwear to rest against your stomach.
“You tell anyone and you’re dead,” You chide playfully, the beautiful feeling of sleep creeping up on you, “but thank you, Eddie, seriously.”
“Always at your service, princess.”
You laugh through your nose, the realization of your actions finally settling in. It didn’t feel wrong, but it didn’t feel right, either—though, you couldn’t be bothered to care now; all bets were off.
“I’m holding you to that, Munson.”
Eddie shrugs on the other end, unbeknownst to you. He wiped at the mess he’d made with his shirt, tossing it to the floor lazily. “So, not a one time thing then?” He asks hopefully.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
A pause, Eddie clears his throat.
"I still want my dice, by the way."
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x you#my writing#1kfic#5kfic
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how about steddie dick measuring contest but reader is the judge? if it leads to smut that’s okay but i know you’ll make it good regardless lol
author’s note: the premise is there i promise, i just used this as an excuse to write threesome smut because it started out as a funny idea and then my brain just melted at the thought of it
cw: 18+ (minors dni), heavy voyeurism, threesomes, unrequited crushes (steddie), established relationships with reader, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), mentioned virgin!eddie, steve is overly confident, eddie is a sweetheart, if i missed anything lmk
word count: 4k
It started after Steve and Eddie found out that you had been sleeping with both of them—there was never any exclusivity in your relationship, and the sex with Eddie had started innocently, taking his virginity from him on his graduation night.
Every time with Eddie was something new. He was eager to try things, learn, and it made for some of the more enjoyable sex you’ve ever had. He only lacked slightly in skill, still fumbling around most of the time and getting upset when he couldn’t make you come as easily as he’d hoped.
For Steve, it was after a long-drawn out conversation about how he couldn’t find the right women, the sex was lacking, and he just wanted something—it didn’t even have to be something either of you committed to fully, as long as you two were having fun with it. Steve still went on dates every now and then, had the occasional hookup, but he always ended up back at your place most weekends using the opportunity to vent about his hardships in trying to find a partner—most of it fell on deaf ears, because as much as Steve was a great partner, he also talked about himself way too much.
He was full of himself, to be blunt—which is why this had started the conversation you were being forced to listen to currently, both of them settled on either side of the couch. You were smushed in the center, feet propped up on the table in Eddie’s living room, hands covering your face as you rested your head against the back of the couch and let out an audible groan.
“Okay but,” Eddie begins, another tumultuous conversation that was bound to go one forever if you didn’t put an end to it, “you’ve seen both of our dicks, you be the judge.”
Steve had found a pair of your underwear on Eddie’s floor a couple weeks prior, because of course he knew they were yours. He held them up accusingly, both you and Eddie sharing an awkward glance.
You really had no choice but to come clean. Thankfully, they both took it well—actually, they didn’t have any problem with it, and that’s what you couldn’t wrap your brain around. Not at first, at least.
“It’s okay,” Steve comforts, squeezing your shoulder, “be honest, Eddie can take it.”
You always hung out as a group now, never separately—and you couldn’t ignore the obvious tension that has festered. Truthfully, it felt like an attack on you. They talked about you when you weren’t around, you knew that much, having walked in on them in the middle of a particularly heated conversation about what made you come the quickest. Eddie knew it was oral, but Steve swore you faked it half the time just so he’d skip to the sex, always gawking about how good his dick felt—how big it was.
And obviously, it had boosted his ego through the fucking roof.
“Oh, fuck you.” Eddie insults lightly, leaning in to whisper against your ear, “Come on, sweetheart—let him have it.”
“Oh my god, who cares?” You ask redundantly, exasperated at the topic and almost shouting it out. “The average is—what, five? I’m pretty confident you’re both over that so what does it matter?”
“No way Munson is packing over five.” Steve nags, pointing lazily at the long haired, wide eyed boy at your side. Eddie rolls his eyes, scoffing at the comment.
“We get it, King Steve’s got a big dick.” Eddie mocks, throwing his hands up.
You snort at the nickname, “Don’t call him that.” You tell Eddie, watching as Steve’s face falls slightly. “See—he’s too confident.”
“Why are you avoiding the question then?” Steve counters, growing increasingly irritated. It’s not directed toward you, or at Eddie even, he just wants to get to the bottom of it.
“Why are you so worried that I might say it’s Eddie?” You tease, hearing Eddie howl a laugh behind you.
“Is it?” Eddie asks after he regains his composure, “I don’t even care at this point, I just need to rub it in Steve’s face.”
“Fuck this,” Steve says in a clipped tone, “Whip it out, Munson.”
“Excuse you?” Eddie asks in a subtle shock, eyes follow Steve as he stands from the couch. “Take me to fuckin’ dinner first, Steve.”
“I need to pee.” You say quickly, making a weak excuse to escape to the bathroom.
Steve holds up his hand, “No, no—you have to judge.”
You stare up at him with comically wide eyes, growling slightly under your breath when he doesn’t relent, sinking back down on the couch.
“Fine.” You agree, “Hurry up.”
Eddie flicks his gaze between you and Steve before finally settling on you, “Do you—are we actually entertaining this?”
“To be fair, I really don’t know.”
It was the honest truth.
Steve fiddles with his pants as Eddie moves a little slower, more hesitant to expose himself. Steve grew up in sports, he was used to changing in front of other guys, nudity around other’s wasn’t foreign to him—Eddie was obviously less willing, having grown up under constant scrutiny and bullying there was valid reasoning on why he didn’t want to. You gave him a look, touching his wrist as he reached for his belt.
“Steve, I don’t think this is a good idea.” You tell him as he lingers behind you, eyes still locked on Eddie as you turn to him, but something in Eddie’s face changes, a subtle smirk growing.
“Gotta shut him up somehow, right?” Eddie asks.
And they’re both on the edge of shoving their pants down, gaze noticeably locked on one another before you’re panicking, arms thrown up in an attempt to halt whatever was about to commence.
“Wait, fuck—“ You sigh loudly, slumping as they both look at you, “this isn’t fair.”
The silence is telling, both boys completely at your command.
It’s almost impossible not to have fun with this, especially if they weren’t about to let up over the whole ordeal.
“I mean—Steve is definitely a shower,” You admit, “but I don’t think it’s fair unless both of you are—“
“Hard?” Eddie finishes for you, and Steve catches on immediately, that mischievous grin matches yours.
“If you wanted a kiss so bad all you had to do was ask, sweetheart.” Steve replies with that puff in his chest, always so sure of himself.
You giggle softly, tongue poking at the inside of your cheek as you lean away from Steve’s reach, looking over at Eddie and back at him.
“Not me, Steve.” You reply sickeningly sweet, eye flicking up knowingly toward Eddie, bottom lip pulled between your teeth.
You weren’t oblivious to the interest that Steve tried so desperately to hide any time he was around Eddie—the teasing, the lingering looks, the constant need to piss him off just to keep him talking. Eddie was just as bad, constantly feeding into whatever game Steve was playing at. They had been friends before, somewhat—but whatever this had become, it brought you all closer. Though, it wasn’t your fault that they were so inherently stubborn and avoiding the fact that they, for a lack of better words, wanted to fuck each other.
And maybe that was a strong way to put it, but they almost seemed scared—scared that it would make you feel a certain way. They were both always so careful with your feelings, two of your closest friends, but your annoyance was at it’s peak and you really couldn’t take it any longer.
“Each other.” You say simply, wagging your finger between the two. “But, of course, drop the pants first.”
“That’s not funny.” Steve retorts.
Eddie shrugs, “I mean, I don’t care.”
You shrug at Steve, pointing at Eddie. “You heard him—get to smoochin’, Steve.”
Eddie laughs at Steve’s shy hesitation, yanking gently at the open hem of his pants, fingers grazing his half-hard cock.
“Come on, big boy,” Eddie teases, smirk pulling at his features, “all talk and no game—seriously?”
That’s what does Steve in, never one to back down from a challenge. He cradles Eddie’s head the same way he does yours, fingers disappearing into his long curls as he pushes toward him, slotting his top lip between Eddie’s, sucking at his bottom gingerly.
It’s just a taste—something to entice Eddie, but it doesn’t take much. He pulls back with a breath, locking eyes with him for a brief moment before diving in fully, tongue splitting Eddie’s mouth open without hesitation, hands idly working at his jeans to shove them down, underwear following as he steps out of them in a fumble, the fabric getting caught at his feet. Eddie takes a little longer, belt snapping in the air as he yanks it from the loops and strips himself too.
“Shirts too?” Steve asks, not directed at any particular person, but you answer seeing as how Eddie is so clearly distracted by Steve’s lips, his neck, the soft pattern of freckles that trace his face.
“Yeah, yeah—“ Your own breath is caught in your throat, despite how good you are at keeping your composure.
This was definitely meant as a joke, maybe a quick peck or two before you’d put an end to their misery—but that wasn’t the case at all.
You felt like you were intruding, but your body was frozen in place and part of you forget the entire cause of this, glancing down at their slowly hardening cocks, shirts being simultaneously ripped over their heads before they fell right back into, Eddie’s hands squeezing along the side of Steve’s neck as he kissed him, letting out the soft sated noises he makes when he’s enjoying himself, eyes closed shut.
Steve’s hand grazes carefully over his own cock, his fingers barely grazing the head of Eddie’s as he squeezes at the base, bringing his fingers up to drag over the tip, openly groaning into Eddie’s mouth.
Eddie chuckles, biting playfully at Steve’s lip, emitting a strained grunt from his chest—and then he’s speaking to you, startling you out of the trance you’ve fallen into, watching two of your best friend’s going after each other so eagerly.
“What’s the verdict, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, pulling away slightly to look at you. He sees the gape in your mouth, the glaze over your eyes and he can’t help it, “Oh shit—you’re into this, aren’t you?”
Steve turns his attention too, “Is that even a question? Look at her.”
“Someone had to force you two to stop ignoring what was obviously there,” You defend, “—I’m not gonna choose, by the way.”
“Oh, come on.” Steve complains, pulling away from Eddie briefly—he’s so unashamed in his nudity that he turns to you, “seriously—what’s it gonna take?”
You shrug stubbornly.
Steve glances over at Eddie, whose pupils are blown to hell with arousal.
“Your bed big enough for three, Munson?” Steve asks, sending you a vivacious smile that makes you blush, shrinking away from him slightly. “We’re gonna settle this.”
“Uh, yeah—should be.” Eddie nods, “But if we’re about to settle who’s better in bed, that’s a given.”
It was definitely not a given—because as much as you’d like to go for one or the other, they were making it impossible.
“Is this too much?” Eddie asks, shifting between your legs as he stretches your thighs open. Steve’s settled behind you, propping you up slightly as he tilts your head up, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation toward this.
“I feel like I should be asking you two that question,” You admit, smiling softly as Steve tugs at your bottom lip with his thumb, smiling down at you, “this is my fault.”
“You good with this, Harrington?” Eddie asks idly, kissing at the inside of your thigh before nipping at the skin, causing you to squirm, gasping involuntarily.
Steve nods, making an affirming noise.
“You think you can handle both of us?” Steve asks endearingly, though it’s edged with something else
“At the same time?” You ask incredulously, “No fuckin’ way—“
Eddie’s tongue slides through the center of your cunt, biting gently at your folds. “I don’t think that’s what he means.”
“Good to know it’s on your mind though,” Steve comments, “maybe we’ll try that next time.”
Eddie pulls away briefly, laughing into the apex of your thigh. Steve’s fingers trailing down your bare chest, over the pudge of your stomach until his fingers reach your clit, rubbing slow circles until he can feel your breath starting to quicken. Eddie dives back in soon after, his tongue dipping into your entrance, lapping up the thick juices, sounding shamefully wet already. His nose nudges Steve’s finger, the pressure it applies is fucking sinful, causing you to moan openly, a hand wrapping around Steve’s bicep for support. His eyes never leave your face, so when your eyes go searching, he’s right there waiting.
“So, here’s the plan,” Steve explains—and considering he’s a lot more experienced than both of you, it makes sense, “Eddie’s gonna fuck you first, then me—then you’ll have to make your decision, alright?”
“No promises.” You mumble, before Steve’s nudging your face back up again, eyes darkening.
“You will.” Steve decides, “Trust me.”
Eddie moves up, leaning back on his thighs as he rustles around in his drawer for the spare box of condoms—because in hindsight, there was no way he could’ve prepared for this. So, of course, he’s all out.
“Hey—it’s fine,” You assure him, hand pulling his face toward you, “I trust you—considering I’ve been on birth control for the past year I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”
“You always make me wear condoms.” Steve grumbles from above, earning a light shove from you.
“Well, Eddie isn’t going around fucking other girls.” You tell him lightly—it doesn’t come off as catty, more matter of fact. Eddie laughs, closing the drawer.
“So, one point me,” Eddie says, pointing toward himself, before shoving a giant goose egg at Steve, “Harrington, zero.”
The conversation dies rather quickly as Eddie settles back down, nudging the head of his cock at your entrance, teasingly pressing it along your clit, sliding up through your folds in an effort to drive you mad—it always does, his face lighting up every time. Steve’s not watching you anymore either, eyes lingering toward Eddie, roaming the expanse of his body, his face. He’s never watched another man fuck before, despite his confidence. Steve’s had a threesomes before, though very few and far between, never like this. His sexuality wasn’t something he always openly discussed, no one ever questioned it either. And truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he even knew what it was. But, he was attracted to you—and Eddie.
Eddie pushes in slowly, face scrunching up in concentration as it always does—it’s almost like Steve wasn’t even there to him, his mouth coming down to latch onto your neck, kiss you gently, savor the sweet taste of your skin. Sex with Eddie is always slower, more sensual, and maybe you could enjoy it if Steve wasn’t snickering above you so flippantly.
“Dude,” Eddie complains, thrusts slowing as he glances up at Steve briefly before glancing down at you helplessly, “either get busy or get out.”
“Actually,” You pipe up, looking at Steve, “talk to him, Steve—god knows you never shut up when we’re fucking.”
Steve snorts softly, peering up at Eddie from underneath his lashes, smiling dangerously.
“It’s nice, yeah?” Steve inquires, eyebrows jutting up slightly in question, nodding toward you. “Probably the best you’ve had.”
Eddie laughs weakly, his thrusts increasing slightly as he pulls at your thighs, hooking them around his hips more securely. He was gawking up at Steve, leaving you to watch the show with baited breath, eyes squeezing shit every now and then when Eddie hit that particular spot inside of you.
“It’s the only,” Eddie admits, “but it’s fuckin’ perfect. Pussy’s fuckin’ perfect.”
And he’s never been a savant with words, but damn if that doesn’t send an immediate jolt of heat to your core, moaning brokenly.
“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” Steve asks you, breaking his connection with Eddie briefly to glance down, “I’m not even kissing him and it’s driving you crazy.”
You nod dumbly, Steve’s attention flicking back toward Eddie.
“Tell me how she feels.”
Eddie scoffs lightly at that. Eddie’s always talkative during sex, but not in the same way Steve is—Steve is always about praise and making you blush after every other word, while Eddie has no ability to keep his burgeoning thoughts inside, telling you something annoying about his day or his favorite song that week; it’s all very mundane but it’s Eddie.
“Tight, fuck—“ He sighs, gripping your hip harshly as he moved his hips into you faster, face scrunching up slightly as he glared at Steve, who’s smirk hasn’t faded at all, “god, warm too. So fuckin’ warm and soft—“
You whimper desperately, finger squeezing into Steve’s forearm as Eddie thrusts into you, shoving you up Steve’s chest slightly, their own faces nudging together from the close proximity they were in.
Steve nods knowingly, his lips grazing Eddie’s plush ones, pulling back slightly when Eddie leans forward. “It’s not fair to her,” Steve says in a hushed tone, but you quickly respond with a shake of your head.
“Fuck, please,” You beg, “it’s so hot.”
They both laugh at that, forcing you to giggle despite how close you were to your own orgasm. Eddie presses his lips against Steve’s this time, initiating the kiss as he moves against you, fingers gripping you impossibly tighter as Steve’s tongue traces his bottom lip before slipping inside.
It’s messy, all spit and battling tongues as Eddie's hand struggles against the mattress to keep him upright, limbs shaking from execution and the coiling heat in his stomach, grunting into Steve’s open mouth.
“Gonna come,” Eddie whines, “fuck, I’m gonna come—“
“Come inside her.” He tells him.
It does Eddie in immediately, losing his rhythm. Steve’s quick, sneaky in his motions as his hand ghosts over your clit—the attention was never lacking, it’s the one thing you appreciated the most about him. Your orgasm hits you quick, fleeting, eyes connecting with Eddie briefly as he spills inside you, fingers digging into your thigh hard enough to leave bruises. Surely they would, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.
Steve rubs your arms comfortingly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as you come back down, head spinning slightly.
“Still with us?” He asks softly, rubbing his thumb along the side of your cheek until you connect eyes with him, offering him a small nod. He grins, “Good, my turn.”
Eddie moves slowly, still reeling from the intensity of it all, feeling floaty as he moves to settle behind you. Steve sits up as he takes Eddie’s place in front of you, leaning back on his heels as he lifts you up into his lap, forcing a small gasp from your chest. His fingers find your cunt, rubbing through the mix of your slick and Eddie’s as he pushes it back up inside of you where it starts to spill out.
“Good girl,” He chides, “I need you to keep it all in until we’re finished.”
Steve grips the base of his cock, pushing inside you slowly as Eddie pulls your hair aside, mouthing at the line on your shoulder, your neck, lazy and gentle kisses to remind you that he’s still there.
“Oh fuck,” Steve groans, “s’not fair—you’ve been letting Munson here fuck you without a condom and deprived me of this—“
“Stipulations, Steve.” You sigh, face scrunching up as he lifts you slightly, wrapping your legs around his hips until you have no choice but to throw over the control to him.
“Can’t help that you're a whore, Harrington.” Eddie chuckles, eyes connecting briefly as removes his lips from your skin, “—tell ‘em, sweetheart. Tell Steve how fuckin’ amazing it feels to have me inside you.”
You nod in agreement, a jerky motion of your head as Steve rams into you harshly, pulling a strained whimper from your lips, adjusting your arms around his neck for purchase. Eddie pushes in impossibly closer—Steve buries his face against the other side that Eddie isn’t occupying, leaving a faint bruise in the skin before pulling away, surprisingly met with Eddie’s lips.
“So good.” You mumble, voice barely above a whisper, words failing to reach you, gasping sharply at the feeling of Eddie’s fingers pressing against your clit, still reeling from the previous orgasm. You could feel it though, that deep seated ache in your belly that was lingering there, waiting. Eddie’s other hand is pulling at Steve’s neck, tongue forcing itself past his lips and devouring him on the spot—if there was one thing about Eddie, he could take your breath away with a kiss, which was evident in the way Steve could barely keep up, having seemingly met his match with Eddie.
“Fuck, it’s too—sensitive, I’m gonna—“ You moan devastingly loud, both of them breaking briefly to attend to you—not that they weren’t already doing so, but they’re lips are puffy and red from kissing each other and they can barely keep their eyes for one another.
You’ve created a monster—but, it was a necessary evil. They had been walking around each other for weeks, tiptoeing around the topic, becoming more and more territorial over you to rile the other one up, it was only a matter of time.
“Fuck, yeah—just like that, baby.” It’s the only nickname that Steve calls you that makes your stomach flutter, his voice softer than normal. Eddie leans in too, fingers still rubbing persistently at your clit as he breaths over your ear, murmuring a soft—
“Look at him,” Eddie comments quietly, “he’s a mess.”
And he was—for a brief second, you didn’t even recognize him. Steve was normally so well managed and put together that the helpless look on his face was completely unfamiliar. His head fell back lazily, pumping into you a finally few times before he’s coming with a soft grunt, letting Eddie work you through your second orgasm—it’s overwhelming, almost too much, feeling your nails dig into the skin of Eddie’s thigh as you curse out a string of obscenities, chest heaving as you came down.
Eddie groans slightly, falling back on his mattress as you follow into a fit of laughter, neither of you able to calm yourself until Steve is settling by your side, staring you both down with a comical look of disbelief.
“So, do you have your answer now?” Eddie interjects beside how valiantly you’ve tried to avoid the topic. “Or, do we need to go again?”
And there’s only one real way out of it.
“Yeah,” You nod, “Me.”
“Oh, that’s bullshit.” Steve quickly recovers, flipping down beside you both, shuffling his pants back on lazily, while you and Eddie couldn’t be bothered. “That’s such a cop out.”
“Are you disagreeing with me?” You press further, the lilt in your voice coming off as a warning.
Eddie laughs softly behind you, “Don’t do it, Steve. You’ll regret it.”
And for once in his life, he doesn’t have a comeback.
“Okay, but back to the original question—“
“It’s Steve.” You admit, earning a dramatic gasp from Eddie, hand clutched over his chest. “Look, you two made me choose, you can’t be mad—“
“You could always try it out for yourself, Munson—if you have doubts.” Steve teases, leaning over you slightly to peer at Eddie, eyes raking his body.
“Mmm, but don’t get your ego up,” You warn him, waving a careful finger at him before pointing at Eddie, “Eddie’s technique is—“
“Are you saying I can’t fuck?” Steve huffs out a laugh, “After that?”
“Eddie’s just—eager.” You smile knowingly, watching as Eddie blushes a deep red, his hand covering himself indecently, the blood rushing to his cock again. “Like, really eager.”
Steve grins menacingly, “Clearly.”
Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#steddie x reader#steddie x reader smut#steve harrington smut#steve harring x reader#steve harrington x you#eddie munson fanfic#my writing#1kfic
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Okay but husband Eddie begging reader for a baby and then fucking her with so much love please PLEASE BABE IM CRAVING THIS
author’s note: this idea sent me down a rabbit hole of emotions, jesus christ
cw: 18+ (minors, shoo!), fem!reader, breeding kink (sorta), lots of fluff and comfort to an emotional reader, just really sappy shit y’all
word count: 1.1k
It was a constant debate between the both of you. Marriage first, kids later. And now, with marriage out of the way, it was the only thing on Eddie’s mind.
“Please, baby,” He was on the ascent of a rant, and he would hit the peak soon, “just one.”
“Stop saying it like that, Eddie.” It made it feel like he didn’t understand the weight of what he was saying. Just one, just one. It was never, just one. “Kids are a serious deal.”
He moves in closer, hand settling around the dip in your waist, the other coming up to rest at the nape of your neck, pulling you against him. You smile, soft and warm, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t love having a mini Munson running around this house.” He thinks fondly, half him and half you, the tiny pitter patter of feet running through the house, a nest of beautiful ringlets curls bouncing with every step. “We’d make cute babies and you know it.”
You made a noise of discontent, “Let’s just hope they take after you—all that beautiful hair, cute button nose,” You poke his nose gently, watching his face scrunch up. “But seriously, Eddie, this isn’t something to joke about. This is a lifelong commitment.”
“Baby, I’m committed to this, as long as you need me, as long as our kids need me.” His voice is raw, like he’s holding back emotion. It was often that you saw him like this, always holding himself together for you—not the other way around. You frowned slightly, moving your hand to cup his face, rubbing at the apple of his cheek with your thumb, smoothing out his worry lines.
“Let’s try, then.” You say softly, “We’ll see where it takes us.”
.ೃ࿐
“Fuck, baby—God, I love you so much.” His thrusts are slow, but forceful, taking his sweet, sweet time. He's making those soft noises into your shoulder, fingers digging into the delicate skin of your thigh, hip pulled up higher on one particular snap of his hips, forcing his name out in a cry, and then again, and again.
"Eddie, please," You beg for no real rhyme or reason, you just wanted him--wanted him to hold you, kiss you, bring you right to the brink of pleasure and back again, wanted to be consumed by him, "please."
It's a silent plea, the words hanging off the tip of your tongue. Your hands grip the sheets in anguish, the feeling of being so full off of Eddie's dick that you can't even think straight. Sex was always special with him, he always made sure to take care of you.
"You drive me fuckin' crazy." His voice is strained, barely above a whisper. "Just want to fuck you full--want to see how good you'd look carry my babies." It was different from the usual dirty talk, but given the subject matter, it made all the sense in the world. It peaked an interest in you that you had no idea existed, not until he's speaking those words to you, in the confines of the four walls of your bedroom, a place sacred for you and him. "Can't even think how beautiful you'd look, all round and pregnant."
You try to force the small bubble of laughter back down, but it escapes you. It feels ridiculous, but you can't find it in you to ask him to stop. "What? Too much?" Eddie asks, coming back to earth for the time being, having lost himself in the moment.
"No, no." Your breathless when you answer, hands resting against your chest as his pace slows again, taking the chance to look you in the eye. "It's--it's really good. I don't mind."
"Good." He agrees, leaning forward to nip at the skin on your jawline, hands gripping your waist, thumbs barely grazing the apex of your thighs, pulling you flush against him, burying his dick as deep as it would go. "Gotta make sure it all stays in, right?"
You nod earnestly, bottom lip pulled between your teeth, gasped pulled out of your chest on a particularly rough thrust of his hips. "Need you to come in me, baby." Your voice is wrecked, "Want you to come in."
Eddie's fucking up into you with fervor, somehow still maintaining his soft exterior in the way he's peppering kisses along your chest, your face, until he's pulling you in for a deep, bruising kiss that leaves you moaning into his mouth, his hand reaching between the both of you is an afterthought, until he's bringing you to an orgasm quicker than you expect, clinging on to him like your life depended on it. "Oh, Eddie, baby—" You sob, unexpectedly overcome with emotion.
Eddie comes almost immediately after, it hitting him just as hard, hips buried to the hilt inside of you. The thing about Eddie, despite how often he speaks up during sex, is almost silent when he comes. His eyebrows knitted together, mouth hung open slightly, eyes shut tight—like he can’t seem to catch his breath for a moment. He collapses on you, still mindful of his body weight, before rolling off onto his side.
It isn’t until a few seconds after that he realizes you’d been crying, a mess of tears and small, quiet sobs.
“Hey, hey—“ His voice is soothing, a soft hush that you found helped keep you grounded. He always knew just the right way to comfort you. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” You respond, wiping away the few tears that had ran down your face. It seemed silly, the idea that you could get so emotional out of nowhere, but the thing was—you couldn’t help how loved Eddie made you feel. “Everything is perfect.”
And it was, it truly was. Your life, his life—it melded together perfectly.
“I love you,” It was his special way of saying ‘goodnight’ or ‘sweet dreams’, but it also meant exactly what he wanted to say, those three little words being the driving force in your relationship. It was reassurance on bad days, the feeling of fondness on the days you couldn’t stop laughing, but it was also the feeling of anticipation, of what you had to look forward to in your future together, “I love you so fuckin’ much.”
You lean forward slowly, kissing the bridge of his nose. His eyes were heavy, half closed—both from exhaustion and post-orgasmic bliss.
“I want this to work, but part of me—” Eddie laughs into your cheek, hiding his face away from view, “I really just want it to fail a few times so I can fuck you like that again.”
“Eddie!” You squeal, swatting him playfully against his arm. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”
“Would fuck you again, right now, if I wasn’t so tired,” You laugh, burying his face into your chest, running his curls through your fingers. It helped him fall asleep faster, he speaks through a yawn, “but, that’s why there’s always tomorrow.”
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#my writing#blurbs#1kfic#5kfic
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Okay here me out!! Eddie and bestfriend reader are hanging out just chilling in his room like any other day but our back is killing us so he's on top of us giving our back a massage. Our shirt rides up so now he's massaging bare skin and listening to our goans of satisfaction. He obviously pops a boner and you know one thing leads to the other very nsfw in the same position tho us on our tummy him on top SOUNDS LIKE FUN!!!
author’s note: this is uh…yeah. just purely self indulgent smut so pls enjoy my nsfw ramblings mwah. if there's typos in this, no there's not. it's 11pm and i'm exhausted.
cw: 18+ (minors dni), fem!reader, mentions of smoking and being high, steamy sex, they’re both two consenting adults don’t worry, sex from behind, dirty talk, slight hair pulling, fingering, ect. let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 2.5k
It doesn’t take any persuading to get Eddie in the position he is now, knees settled on either side of you, sat perfectly against your thighs, hands resting in the dip just above your ass, the tiniest shorts in existence doing nothing to block the heat of Eddie’s hands as his fingers dug into the skin. If Wayne were to chance walking in, you both wouldn’t hear the end of it.
Eddie’s heavy above you, no other option to lay there and enjoy the magic that were his fingers; knowing his way around a guitar and a few taut muscles. It almost hurts, the way his fingers dig into the skin—but the relief, the literal unwinding of your tense back muscles has you moaning out against your pillow, where your head rested.
Eddie snorts in laughter, “Like that?” He teases, voice flirtatious out of habit. It wasn’t strange for him to act this way, it came with the package of knowing Eddie; he was so naturally charming that he couldn’t help it. You feel your heart flutter at the words, smiling into your forearm.
“Mhm,” You hum, nodding your head gently. He watches the back of your head bob, spreading the length of his hands over the sides of your waist, digging into the flesh there, leaning forward slightly to apply pressure, absently rubbing the front of his jeans against the curve of your ass.
He doesn’t say anything, almost like he can’t be bothered to notice. The assault of his hands continue, too fucking satisfying to ask him to stop now; you wouldn’t even if you needed to. He was a fucking smoke show, despite his constant denial, you knew exactly what Eddie was all about.
Selfless but selfish, indulging in the things he cared about but always worrying about the feelings of others. So undoubtedly considerate in his relationship with others, he was the kind of person you could rely on, love, see yourself spending the rest of your life with—romantically or platonically. It didn’t matter to you.
But with his hands on you now, one blunt into the night, that haze in your brain was pointing all signs of ‘god, i’m so fucking horny right now’ and you’ll be damned if you have to starve yourself of that feeling. Eddie feels it too, with how eagerly he jumped at the chance to touch your bare skin, dig his fingers into the soft, meaty flesh—that, and it gave the perfect view of your ass.
And you’re not sure when his hands stop, the only real contact he was making was the shallow thrust of his hips against your backside, far enough away that it wasn’t at all satisfying. It was torture.
He’s lost his train of thought, eyes nearly shut as his hands linger but never move, he doesn’t even feel in control of his own body.
“Eddie,” You speak softly, head turned back to look at him, though the angle was strained. He gives a small ‘huh’, eyes half lidded as he finally makes eye contact with you, “still with me?”
“Sorry,” He says, clearing his throat of the muck the smoke had left behind, his high peaking at this point, having been a while since you’d both finished off the joint, “you know how it gets when we smoke, sometimes.”
You know all too well; the exploring hands, kisses stolen in-between shared thoughts and words, the way Eddie would beg and beg to have his head between your thighs, just to get a small taste of you—the mix of weed and whatever ecstasy Eddie was trying to taste as he devour your cunt, greedily licking up every last drop of you.
You two never talked about it. It just was.
He enjoyed the way you’d take him in his mouth, almost lazily, still showing just how good it could feel outside the boundaries of his own hands, letting him fuck into your mouth earnestly.
It never got the point of fucking, though, ever.
It was the one boundary you both knew came with consequences, small or large, that needed to be talked about. But right now, you couldn’t be bothered to care, seeing the desperate expression on his face.
He’s never wanted to fuck someone so badly.
“I’m so fucking hard right now,” Eddie says honestly, chancing a glance down at the zipper of his jeans, his dick straining uncomfortably against the constricting material, “don’t mean to be, sweetheart.”
“What do you want, Eddie?” You ask gently, voice soft as his hands rise higher, almost touching the underside of your breasts where they’re pressed against the mattress.
“You.” He sighs openly, leaning his body over the expanse of yours, covering your back like a blanket. He’s so drunk off his own desperate need to for release that he’s grinding against your ass, harsher this time. The thick material of his jeans is uncomfortable against the silk of your shorts and if he really wanted to do this, he was going to do it correctly, that way it was enjoyable for both of you.
“Take your pants off.” You urge—and you can’t believe the speed at which he races to discard of the unnecessary clothing. You make an attempt to turn, but you’re stopped by the touch of his palm, pressed against the middle of your back.
“No, like this,” He insists, adjusting your ass until it’s positioned where he likes, cover bunched up underneath you for support. Despite his hazy brain, he still had the sense to be sweet, “you look so pretty like this.”
And he’s speaking nonsense, you think.
“Such a cute little ass.” He smiles satedly, hands gripping at the flesh gently, the front of his boxers pressing against you, the hard line of his dick was a shock to your system, despite being ready for it.
And you want to tilt your hips, assist in the grind of his dick against the clothed curve of your ass, help him reach whatever release he was after.
Sometimes he wanted quick and fast; the senseless type of orgasm that left you both gasping for breath after. Other times it was slow, moaning into each other’s mouths as you found that ecstasy together.
He grunts softly, almost frustrated. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” You ask, your hand gliding against the outside of his palm where it had a steady grip on your hip.
“Not enough,” He pouts dismally, movements stopping slightly, “God, I just wanna—“ He takes a deep breath through his nose, eyes falling closed as he thinks on his next words, “I really wanna fuck you, sweetheart.”
And the words are like a weight lifted off your shoulders, like hearing him say it made the decision so much easier; not afraid to cross that boundary anymore. You wanted it just as much as he did.
“Okay,” You nod slowly, turned slightly to look back at him, and he looks so fucking sweet, the way his eyes soften at the sight of you, “yeah, if you really want to.”
Eddie doesn’t waste much time, pulling at the thin material of your shorts and panties in one go, lingering on the sight of your bare ass, “Even better like this.” He says, admiring the way your neck blushed at the comment.
“Condom, Eddie.” You remind him, high but not high enough to remember that you definitely did not need the aspect of any unnecessary and unwanted surprises showing up in your life. He fetches the small foil wrapper from his bedside table, you try to ignore the jumbo size box stuffed in there.
That was a question for another time.
Eddie doesn’t spend time trying to strip any further, leaving you naked from the waist down, and pulling his boxers down just enough so they’re tucked under his balls, enough room to allow him to get where he needed.
He’s eager with how quickly his fingers slip through your folds, gathering up the embarrassing amount of slick against his fingers, making a small noise of acknowledgment before saying, “Always so fucking wet, aren’t you?”
Normally, you could keep it together, comeback something with a bit more snark, but you could only offer a small ‘uh huh’, letting one of his thick digits sink inside of you, so deprived of anything inside you for the past few months that your pussy squeezes around his finger greedily.
He sets a gentle pace, curling his finger as he went, a consistent pump in and out of you, before he’s slipping in another finger—it’s a beautiful stretch, causing you to gasp out, keening back against his hand. “Fuck, those fingers—“
“Made for you,” He comments absently, fingers working you open so easily, like this was normal for the both of you; and while some of it was, this was still all so new, “always so greedy, yeah?”
And you’re not sure if he’s talking to you directly, but you answer a weak ‘yes’ anyways.
He works you over until you’re panting, begging for him to put you out of your misery, feeling deplorable with how much he enjoyed teasing you.
“Just fuck me already, please.” You snark impatiently, throwing the wrapper back at him.
He quickly rips it open with his teeth, removing and rolling the thin latex over himself, adjusting most of his weight on one arm as he uses the tip of his cock to glide through your folds, not wasting any time as he slides in, almost buried to the hilt.
If you weren’t so blasted out of your mind, you would’ve fought him over it, but you could sense how eager he was to be buried inside of you.
He groans loudly, the grasp on your hips tighter than before, nearly bruising. He rocks his hips testingly, listening closely to the small gasps that escape your lips, almost too quiet—he can’t have that, he wants to hear you fall apart so badly.
“Never thought it would be this good, sweetheart.” He says honestly, the slow and steady rock of his hips leaving you grasping at the downy comforter, face shoved into the blanket to stifle your moans. “I mean, that pussy’s always been sweet—but it just takes me so well.”
“Yeah?” You answer pathetically, a small hiccup as he thrusts into you particularly rough.
“Wish you could see it,” He says, watching the way your cunt swallows him up, so mesmerized by what the fuck was happening that he has to take a moment, eyes rolling back into his head as he sits with the feeling, your soft moans like music to his ears, “taking me so well, baby.”
And that really shouldn’t affect you the way it does, but your pussy clenches around him at the endearment, causing Eddie to curse out, delivering another rough thrust into you.
“So good,” He murmurs, body now leaned over you almost completely, fucking into you with earnest, the slide of his body against yours, warm and sticky skin against yours—it was overwhelming in all the best ways.
You reach behind you, desperate to hold onto a piece of him; anything. Your hand finds his hair, grabbing loosely on a handful of strands, his mouth ghosting over the back of your neck as he groans, his hands digging into the pillow on either side of your head.
You never had any exceptions on what it would be like to be fucked by Eddie, sober or not—but it’s indescribable, so many emotions hitting you all at once, and you want to cry from the absolute sheer amount of pleasure you’re body was taking, but also because Eddie was so fucking soft, while still managing that primal need he had.
“Always dreamt of fucking you.” He says without thinking.
And maybe that could ruin your friendship. But, maybe it wouldn’t. You answer with a pathetic moan, another broken sob. “Yeah?” You force out, “Just like this?”
“Every way,” He admits, hand sneaking around to your front, over the sensitive bud of your clit. It’s the first time he’s showed it any attention all night, but you can’t find it in you to complain, gasping at the quick, tight circles he makes, “any way.”
“I’m close, Eddie—“ You warn, hips bucking desperately against his hand as he continues to fuck into you, hips quick and sloppy, on the precipice of his own orgasm.
“Yeah? Gonna come with me, sweetheart?” It isn’t meant to sound like a challenge, but you take it that way, nodding quickly.
His thrusts are wild, pounding into you so relentlessly that you don’t even have time to catch your breath, the two fingers pressed against your clit, quick and precise motions—that’s what sends you over the edge.
“Fuck,” Eddie swears, the last clench of your walls against his cock was all he needed, spilling into the condom, still buried inside you. He holds you close, letting you ride the wave of your own orgasm, nearly in tears by how hard it hits you.
“I’m okay.” You let him know, once you’ve sufficiently recovered, groaning in protest at the feeling of him slipping out of you, discarded the condom in the trash at the corner of his room.
You reach for you shorts, ready to hightail it out of there and get home, much like you usually did after these situations. But, Eddie wasn’t going to let that happen. Not this time.
He shakes his head, making a soft noise as he grabs into your wrist, motioning for you to lay back down, finding your way into the nook of his arm, settled closely against his clothed chest.
“You’re not getting away that quickly,” He complains, kicking his blanket up until it’s covering you both, “I still want to hang out.”
It sounds ridiculous in retrospect, the concept of hanging out now completely out the window, at least it seemed that way. But again, Eddie didn’t care—carrying on with conversation like normal, like he hadn’t just fully wrecked every thought process you’d had, body so fucked out that all you could was lay there, pliant to him.
“We gotta smoke like that more often.” You joke, giggling softly, eyes glancing up to stare into his own deep, brown ones.
“Sweetheart, I can fuck you like that whenever you want—I don’t need to be high.” He points out and you could almost kiss him. Almost.
“We’ll see about.” You reply back coyly, fingers dancing up the side expanse of his chest, thumb catching at the bottom of his lip, which he bites teasingly.
It only takes about a half hour before Eddie has you spread out over his lap, fucking up into you lazily.
“I gotta ask,” You say, breaking the blanket of silence, “Why do you have so many condoms?”
Not to say that Eddie wasn’t pulling—he had to be, but it seemed like overkill.
“Wayne really hates the idea of kids. He just wants me to be safe.”
You snort, and somehow that still doesn’t kill the mood, only sending you into a short fit of laughter. Eddie quickly fucks it out of you though, sending you down the path of your second orgasm that night.
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#my writing#1kfic#5kfic
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𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 ✎ 𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary: eddie doesn’t have his life together any better than the next person, but for his daughter, he fakes it well. all he really needed was balance, but he wasn’t sure that even existed—not until you.
cw: 18+ (for safety), mechanic!eddie, reader and eddie are the same age (29/30ish), girl dad!eddie, mentions of loss/death, mentions of miscarriage/stillborn (briefly), more than your typical sass from a small child, reader is great with kids (obviously), mostly just a bunch of meet-cutes and fortunate circumstances that help push eddie toward reader, if i missed anything lmk!
word count: 11k — part two
Eddie never imagined he would in this position, not in a million fuckin’ years. While he would trade it for the world, days like these made his skin crawl, the anxiety creeped in, all the worst feelings you could feel as a person—and more specifically, a parent.
She’s the spitting image of him, curly hair and big doe eyes that she could sick on anyone to get exactly what she wanted. It was a proven fact that had worked on Eddie countless times. She’s got his habitual nose scrunch, always making a face when she’s upset or mad, arms crossed over her chest as she sits and pouts. There couldn’t have been more of a carbon copy than her and Eddie didn’t know how to handle it half the time.
“Okay,” Eddie breathes, plopping his daughter onto the counter, “Shoes,” He taps her light up sneakers, “Check.” He scans her over once, all clothes accounted for, matching socks, a small jumper to keep her warm during class, “Hair—“ He takes a moment, examining the sloppy attempt at pigtails, “it’s gonna have to work.”
“Dad,” Her voice drags, soft and melodic as she stares up at him in annoyance, “breakfast?”
“Shit—right,” Eddie facepalms in frustration, turning to rummage through the fruit bowl on his counter, picking out a semi-ripe banana and offering it to the girl, “that’ll do.”
“Language,” She sings, using her brute strength to rip open the peel, a small grunt escaping her, “—you owe a dollar to the jar.”
It still amazes him how well-spoken she is for her age, five nearing six and still able to keep up with him in conversation and sometimes even leaving him speechless, her comments just as fiery as his own. She did a good job keeping him in check, grounded, and never taking himself too seriously.
“Ri,” He begs, “you’re cleaning me out.”
“You know the rules, dad.” She smiles, taking a ferocious bite of her banana, speaking with a full mouth, “pay up, please.”
Eddie huffs begrudgingly, swiping his wallet from his back pocket and plucking out a single collar, slipping it into the jar on the shelf near their front door, the thing was bursting at the seams almost.
“Okay so,” Eddie turns back toward her, “what did we talk about?”
“Manners—please and thank you,” She says, counting her with tiny fingers, “no mean looks to the other kids, and—“
She stops, the memory spilling her brain.
“And no F bombs from you either.” Eddie warns, poking softly at her chest. “Even if it was only once.”
“It was part of the song—“ She argues, mouth turning down at the corners in frown.
“Riley.” Eddie says more sternly, causing her to shrink slightly.
“Okay,” She answers softly, taking smaller bites of the banana until it’s nearly gone, she glances at the digital clock on the microwave and glances back at her dad, who still seems completely frazzled, “—I thought school started at eight.”
“It does.” Eddie nods, slipping his wallet back into his pocket and gathering his things for work; lunch, tools, although surely he was still missing something.
“Look.” She tells him, finger pointing just past his head.
Eddie turned, eyes widening at the numbers appearing back to him.
7:50.
It was the first day and he was already starting off on the wrong foot, but given his track record, he couldn’t really be surprised.
Eddie quickly lifts Riley from the counter and places her down, letting her run for her backpack on the couch—a faded, black backpack that Eddie got from Wayne a few weeks ago; money was tight, but he always tried to make the best of their situation. He ironed a few of his old patches from his favorite bands he had stored away and even the one he’s gotten made of his old band as a joke, a true one of a kind. He wanted to save it for something special—or someone. Luckily, that was Riley.
“Alright,” He says, clapping his hands together loudly, “let’s go, go, go.”
Riley’s feet pitter patter underneath him as he chases after her, urging her out of the trailer—the one he rented out just beside his uncle, as much as he’d hoped to get out of this town, he couldn’t think of a better place to be held up in.
Eddie’s never been a stickler for rules—and he makes it with a couple minutes to spare, but no one needed to know about him driving a smidge over the speed limit to get Riley to school on time.
He feels immensely underdressed around the other crowd of parents—and noticing the one obvious factor, most of them were women. He realizes it shouldn’t matter much, but it was also painfully obvious that he was all over the place, clothes slightly dirtied from grease stains and general car grossness. It didn’t matter how much he washed them, the stains were coming out.
Riley’s eager, unbuckling herself and opening her own door before Eddie can even reach her, suffocating his hand in a tight grip as she yanks him along, humming along to a tune that Eddie can only guess is from a morning cartoon. When it came to music she sang her heart out, an obvious sign that he was hers—she loved music.
“Come on, dad,” She complains, Eddie’s feet keeping up with her hurried steps, “we can’t be late.”
“For a five year old you’re incredibly bossy.” Eddie notes, her giggling trailing down the hall as they entered the school.
She eyes the walls with rapt attention, all decked out with arts and crafts, eye-grabbing from every angle. Eddie had made a point to remember the name of his teacher, at least, if anything. So, when she trails just a little further than she needs to, Eddie’s pulling her back with a hand against her chest.
“Woah, hold your horses.” Eddie chuckles, her body knocking into his chest as he knelt down. “Do you want me to walk you in or are you okay?”
The soft scuff of soles on the tile floor pull Eddie’s attention up, eyes landing on you. You offer a friendly smile amongst the chaos—crying kids, worried parents, and all the restless energy a small child could carry this early in the morning.
“Hi.” You greet cheerfully, addressing yourself formally, hand extended for him to shake. Eddie’s still squatting at Riley’s side but his hand extends too, enveloping yours in a gentle grip, a polite handshake.
You sense the nervousness of the young girl before you, squatting down to her level as well, “You must be Riley.” You guess accordingly, seeming as she was the last kid on your list to show up, her face beamed with a brightness that was entirely too infectious. You introduce yourself to her too, shaking her smaller hand in greeting.
“Alright kid,” Eddie pats her back softly, standing slowly as his knees groan in protest. Eddie was nearing his thirties and not nearly as nimble as before, with a mix of aging and his job it seemed like his body was wearing away faster than he liked, “you ready?”
“Oh,” You interrupt, standing too, “you can come inside and see where’s she sitting if you’d like and if you have any quick questions I can answer them.”
Eddie blanks for a moment, but is quickly pulled out of it when Riley tugs at his hand in excitement, “Okay, just a couple minutes, Ri—I can’t be late for work.” Eddie follows along dutifully, narrowly missing the flurry of tiny people that run past him.
Riley arrives at the desk in a hurry, taking her seat and examining her area. “Look daddy,” She points out, “the desk has my name.”
“Yep, baby,” Eddie nods, smoothing out her tattered curls, still beating himself up over not taking the time to make them look better, “can you read it?”
Riley nods enthusiastically, “Riley Munson,” she sounds out, “Duh, I know my name.”
Eddie chuckles at that and you can’t help but laugh. She was a character for sure, but most of the kids were, blossoming personalities and all.
You interrupt for a moment, leaning down to Riley’s level again, “And we even get to decorate these with cool stickers!”
Riley gasps in joy, staring up at Eddie with wide, glistening eyes.
“She loves stickers,” Eddie tells you, “Uh—I should probably already know this, but what time is pickup?”
“Oh, you’re fine.” You assure him, noting his frazzled state. It was common for parents, specifically first timers. “Three is when we actually let them out, but the line can get pretty long so it’s always better to show up early if you can.”
Eddie nods slowly, glancing around the room. He’s never been one to care what people think of him or his appearance, but in this setting it feels magnified. “Sorry, I feel a little underdressed.”
You quickly shake your head, watching as a young girl approaches Riley. You nod toward the door, silently asking Eddie to follow. He bids her a quick goodbye and a kiss in the crown of her head which she could care less about, already chattering to her newfound friend.
“Don’t feel like an outcast,” You tell him, “it’s definitely not worth beating yourself up over.”
Eddie had been there his entire life, he wasn’t sure he could ever escape that.
Oddly, it comforts Eddie for the moment. “Shit—wait shoot,” Eddie fumbles over his words, voice hushed as he realizes his mistake, “I’m Eddie by the way, I probably should’ve started with that.”
You laugh in amusement, nose scrunching up slightly. You’re far enough from earshot that their impressionable ears can’t hear, but it’s still charming that he tries to save himself.
“Well Eddie,” You say with a lilt to your voice, “if we run into any issues—which I’m sure we won’t—we’ll give you a call.”
Eddie nods, “Okay uh,” He points toward Riley sparingly, “she can be a little—headstrong, so if she gives you problems—“
“I can handle her,” You assure him, leaning forward with a quiet whisper, “it’s kind of my job.”
Eddie smiles at that, a nervous laugh rumbling through his chest. He needs to excuse himself before he embarrasses himself further.
“Okay, three. I’ll be here.” He tells you, loose curls bouncing over his shoulders as he moves.
“And I’ll see you then.” You nod, watching as he hurriedly leaves then, bolting out faster that you can process. Considering how daunting days like this could be for parents, he was still handling it surprisingly well.
The day is just as hectic as you’d expect. A few meltdowns later and a messy lunch with over a hundred rambunctious kids and you’re all out of energy for the day but keep it up until the very last minute of the school day, letting each child pick a sticker to put on their own name tag on their desk—it’s an easy way to give the kids an outlet to express themselves and show of their personality, plus, the kids loved the stickers.
Pickup is gradual, the children leaving in troves until there’s only a few left, lingering around the hall as they wait for their rides. You find Riley perched on a bench outside of your classroom, fiddling with the laces on her shoes, frayed from wear and tear as she attempts to re-tie them. She huffs dramatically when she can’t figure it out, shoulder slumping as she frowns
You approach with a weary caution, taking a seat next to her on the bench. She doesn’t immediately look up at you, kicking the toes of her shoes together. “Stupid,” She grumbled, “stupid shoes.”
“Do you need help?” You ask sweetly.
“I don’t know how,” She expresses dramatically, “I try and the loop doesn’t work. My daddy ties my shoes for me.”
“Well, Riley—would you like me to teach you?” You ask.
She nods enthusiastically, clumsily turning to place her feet in your lap, staring up at you expectantly. You laugh softly, making a show of taking the two strings in your hand, guiding her through the motions as she watches, cataloging every step. She helps you sing, bouncing with energy.
“Okay, your turn.” You tell her, watching as she fiddles with laces, murmuring a ‘bunny ears, bunny ears’ under her breath as she focuses, tongue slipping out past her lips in concentration. It takes her a moment, struggling to get the lace under the loop, but eventually she gets it. You erupt in a soft cheer, shaking your fists up in celebration. Riley beams a toothy grin that lingers, her eyes squinting with how big she’s smiling.
You take a peek at your watch, reading it to yourself. 3:15. It wasn’t unusual for late parents, as a few kids were also lingering about, but while they were antsy and anxious to leave, Riley sat quietly, attention turned up toward a spot on the ceiling as she waited.
You wait a bit longer in silence, listening to Riley sing the lyrics to a faintly familiar rock song, much to mature for her ears—but that can only be the product of her father, which you couldn’t really fault him for. Kids were just as good at paying attention as they were being passive, it was all subjective and only when they wanted to.
By 3:30 you’re a little more concerned, Riley being the last kid left and not a car or parent in sight.
She sighs exasperated, playing with the loose string on her jumper, “Daddy’s late isn’t he?”
“A little,” You nod, “Is this normal? Does it happen a lot?”
You weren’t trying to point fingers or scrutinize anyone, just simply prodding for more information.
“My dad works on cars—s’why he looks dirty all the time.” She explains, her words mixing together. “Sometimes the men are mean and keep him at work late.”
“Oh dear,” You sigh slightly, “well, I guess we’ll have to do something to keep us busy.”
You didn’t leave until late into the evening anyways, closer to five—and it wasn’t the first time you’ve had to keep a kid past the normal pickup time, though it had been a while.
“Do you like to color?” You ask curiously.
Riley perks up suddenly, nodding.
“Well, you’re in luck, Riley.” You tell her, hand held out for her to grab, leading her into the classroom and setting her at a separate table away from the desks. She waits patiently, feeling squeaking against the linoleum as she watches you move around, grabbing a box of crayons and a few spare drawing pages for her to color in. “Can you work on this for me?”
Riley nods again, furiously sifting through the colors and getting to work, scribbling a dark red crayon onto the paper.
You slip away for a moment, crossing the hall to the office and attempting to find someone—anyone that you can check in with, wondering where Eddie was. The secretary pops her head out of the lounge room suddenly, eyeing you curiously.
“Hey, the little one, Riley Munson—has anyone come to ask for her yet?” You ask, “I wanted to make sure she didn’t get lost in the bunch?”
“That’s Eddie Munson’s kid, right?” The older lady asks, a gruffness to her voice from years of smoking. “Huh.”
Huh. You make an annoyed face as she turns her back, walking toward her desk.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask.
“That kid has never had his life together,” She tells you, having known Eddie when he attended Hawkins, “I used to write tardy slips for him everyday—boy would come in smelling of weed almost every day, he’s always been trouble.”
“Weren’t we all trouble in high school?” You ask daringly.
“Not like him,” She tells you, “repeated his senior year three times and didn’t graduate until he was twenty.”
You roll your eyes subtly, the judgment oozing from her in waves. “Can you just call her emergency number and see if we can get someone to pick her up?”
The older woman responds with a noise, picking up the phone between her brittle fingers, startled rightly when someone bursts through the front entrance, keys jingling in their hand.
“God, I’m so sorry—“ Eddie looks even more stressed out than earlier, his face slightly dirty and a greased up handkerchief shoved in his backpacker, “where is she?”
The old lady watched with a pointed look as you nod toward your classroom, avoiding her gaze as you turn your back.
“I’ve got her busy in my room,” You tell him, leading him toward your door silently, “she’s been very good considering.”
“I promise it’s not always like this,” Eddie says defensively, “today has just—it’s been a day.”
You stop him just outside the entrance, hand placed gently against his chest to still him.
“It’s okay,” You tell him honestly, “but this can’t be a regular thing. You either need to have someone available to pick her up after school on time or work something out with administration. I don’t mind staying after—but I can get in trouble if she stays too late.”
“Look, I mean it—this is the only time.” He stressed, eyes pleading in hopes that you won’t judge him too harshly.
You couldn’t. You would never. You weren’t in a place to judge anyone.
You nod in understanding, extending your trust. “She’s coloring—go ahead.” You tell him, letting him walk in before you.
Riley can hear the footsteps before she spots you both, her chair skidding against the floor as she bolts toward the door, barreling toward Eddie. He picks her up with ease, scooping her up onto his hip, coloring pages forgotten.
“I missed you.” He tells her, fingers squeezing gently at her side. She laughs, hugging him tight despite his dirtiness.
“I miss’d you.” She says softly, arms squeezing around him even further. Eddie smiles, burying his face into her bundle of curls placed lopsided on top of her head.
Eddie pulls away after a moment, looking over at you. “I’m so sorry.” He apologizes again and you’re starting to sense a theme.
“No need,” You insist, “but come Monday—“
Eddie nods, “I’ll be on time.”
And for whatever odd reason, you believed him.
You smile at him then at Riley, features softening as she peaks at you from over Eddie’s shoulder.
“I’ll see you on Monday Riley, okay?” You speak to her.
“Yes!” She cheers, leaning over to whisper into Eddie’s ear.
Eddie leans in, laughing at whatever she was saying to him. Eddie pulls away, nodding at Riley in agreement.
“She said you can call her Ri,” Eddie explains, “which is a very prestigious honor, right?” Eddie turns to Riley, her face scrunching up in confusion.
“Prisigious?” Riley repeats in an innocent tone, “Dad, that’s not a word.”
“Oh, it is Ms. Ri,” You respond matter of factually, “prestigious,” You sound out, “it means super important and special, like you.”
Eddie watches the interaction in a happy silence, the exchange more endearing than anything he’s ever witnessed. It had always taken a while for Riley to warm up to new people, which is why he had been so nervous for her first day, but it all seemed ridiculous now after watching the two of you interact.
“Thank you.” Eddie says suddenly, eyes connecting with yours.
It startles you for a moment, face pulling up in a confused smile.
“For?”
“Not judging, I guess.” He shrugs, “And keeping her company.”
You chuckle softly, “It’s kind of my job, Mr. Munson.”
Eddie grimaces at that, “God—am I that old? We can stick to first names, right?”
And truly, you’re only teasing. You nod in response, waving a warm goodbye to Riley as Eddie grabbed her backpack, shrugging it over his own shoulder.
“Byeeee,” She sings, hand waving over Eddie's shoulder as he triggers her along, more than eager to get her out of your hair, Eddie does mumble to Riley for a moment before she screams out again, “—my daddy said bye too!”
Riley was a character, that was for sure. But seeing her with Eddie, it all made sense.
Eddie keeps his promise, the next month of school going off without a hitch. Riley is there on time, every morning, hell or high water, and she’s just as chipper as you would expect from someone her age. Eddie doesn’t come inside often, only on the few days that Riley has a hard time rolling out of bed, so you don’t see him that often—not that you wanted to.
You totally didn’t want to. Either way, it didn’t matter.
October is one of the few months that you can enjoy real fun with the kids—holidays always have their positives, as well as their negatives. But, the kids loved crafts and so did you.
A week out from Halloween and you had purchased a full box of small pumpkins for your kids, one for each, and all the crafts you could imagine—paints, markers, stuff for making silly faces or glitter bombing their pumpkin. You’d made it clear about messes and the kids had followed for the most part.
But, you could only expect so much from a group of six year olds. And in hindsight, you never expected your degree to end up with you constantly hovering around a group of kids hoping they wouldn’t eat the glue sticks or shove crayons up their noses—unfortunately, that was your life.
You wouldn’t change it for a thing.
And it’s almost peaceful until the time for cleanup comes and there’s a rushed call of your name, the tiny panicked tone sending you into fight or flight, turning on your heels to spot where the voice is coming from.
When you do, it lands on her. Little Riley, covered in paint—her face, hair, clothes, and a boy at her side caught red-handed, quickly dropping the paint when your eyes flick to him. You steady yourself with a deep breath before going back into teacher mode, instructing the rest of the class to sit on the rug at the front of the class room with their legs crossed, grabbing both of the kids gently by the hand and walking them out of the classroom, luckily coming face to face with another teacher who happened to be on break from her class while they attended their specials class, practically begging her to watch the rest of the class for the time being.
“Fifteen minutes, that’s all I need.” You tell her and she agrees.
When you’re finally alone with the two you kneel, taking the younger boy’s hands in yours, calming their insistent shaking.
“You’re not in trouble,” You tell him, Evan, the younger boy responsible, “but do you realize what you did wrong?”
He nods silently.
“I get big emotions too, trust me.” You tell him softly, “But, we can’t take them out on others. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“He made fun of my clothes!” Riley interrupts with a screech, eyes welling with tears. “He said I dress like a boy.”
“Is that true?” You ask him, receiving a shameful nod.
“It’s not fun being picked on,” You explain to him, “how would you feel if Riley said you dressed silly?”
“Sad.” He answers softly.
“Exactly.” You smile slightly, “Can you apologize to Riley?”
He turns to her, unable to meet her tiny, heated gaze.
“I’m sorry, Riley.”
You stare at Riley pointedly, her arms crossed over her chest in defiance. There’s a silent pleading that she seems to understand, chewing on her bottom lip as she relents.
“It’s okay.” She tells him, “I forgive you.”
You nod, satisfied. “Okay, Evan—head back to class, please.”
The boy walks slowly, head hung in shame and embarrassment at having been caught and doing what he did—this behavior was all too familiar and not new in any way.
“He’s stupid.” Riley says with a bite, face smeared with paint.
“Riley,” You warn, “we don’t call people that.”
“Did you say anything to him after he made fun of your clothes?” You ask, hoping to get to the bottom of their little squabble.
“I called him stupid.” She says—it’s almost impossible not to laugh, but you mask it well, gaze flitting up toward the ceiling as Riley flicks the paint off of her hand and wipes them against her ruined overalls, the shirt underneath barely unscathed.
“Can I let you in on a secret, Ri?” You ask, kneeling down in front of her. She nods slowly, giving you her hands. You did it often with the kids, finding that it calmed them the quickest. “All boys are stupid.”
Riley smiles slightly, giggling quietly.
You sigh, taking a glance at her and then her outfit.
“Your dad doesn’t pack extra clothes for you, does he?”
Riley shakes her head, pigtails swinging wildly.
You huff, “Okay—let’s brainstorm.”
“Brain…storm?” Riley asks curiously.
You nod, “Yeah, like…come up with ideas. It’s just a silly word for it.”
Riley ponders for a moment, lips pursing together in thought.
She sighs after a moment, “My brain is empty, no storms.”
You laugh audibly, a short giggle as you stare fondly at the girl.
“Actually,” The thought hits you suddenly, “I think we have some spare clothes in the office, we could take our chances and see if there’s anything in your size. If not, I’ll have to call your dad.”
“No, no—“ She says hurriedly, “don’t call my dad, please.”
You since her concern, eyebrow raising in question.
“I broke his rule.” She frowns, “I gave Evan a mean look and I called him stupid.”
You smile tensely, trying to weigh how to explain things to her, before settling on, “I think he’ll understand, Ri. But, I’ll try my hardest so we don’t have to.”
The best you can do is a god awful pair of pink corduroy pants in her size, which she very loudly states she dislikes.
“Ew!” She says in disgust. “Can I stay in these, please?”
“Riley,” You stress, “You have to change.”
She slumps in defeat, not putting up much of a fight. She holds her hands out begrudgingly, making small grabbing fists until you hand them over, quickly skittering off to the bathroom.
When she returns, she looks even more annoyed, but cleaner.
“My face,” She frowns, “it’s sticky.”
“Yep, kiddo.” You nod, taking her ruined overalls and stuffing them into a plastic bag before tying them off, leaving them for Eddie to pick up later. “I’ve got wipes in my classroom and we’ll get you cleaned up.”
It’s a struggle, but you do manage to get most of the paint cleaned up while the other teacher manages your class, holding their attention with a book she read out loud, letting you deal with Riley in silence. Her hair is a challenge, still sticky and hardened with paint—you manage what you can, undoing her pigtails and wiping out as much paint as possible before braiding the hair back nicely and keeping it out of her face. She feels the bumps in her hair curiously, making a face.
“Braids.” You explain. “Have you ever had them?”
“Daddy can’t do them.” She tells you. “I like piggies. But I also like the braids.”
“Well, maybe you can bribe him into learning if you like them a lot.” You tell her, helping her down from the desk she was perched on. “But, I can always do it for you if you really want them on a certain day.”
You urged her back toward the group of kids, watching as she took a seat toward the rear, hands twisted in her lap as she listened quietly—she seemed less comfortable, more outcast than normal, and while Riley had a big personality—it wasn’t showing now.
When Eddie arrives later that day for pickup, it’s a flurry of emotions. Riley immediately bursts into tears when she sees him, still one of the last kids to be picked up—but he’s not too late.
He stares up at you with a myriad of questions and you hand the dirty clothes over wordlessly. He glances at Riley, nudging her face away from his shoulder. “Hey—hey, what’s wrong?”
Riley looks up at you desperately, frown pulling at her face.
“Ri, why don’t you go play over at the table,” You suggest, “the toys are in the bin underneath.”
She nods, letting go of Eddie in an instant.
When she’s finally busied herself, you pull Eddie aside, leaning against the edge of your desk. “There was a little incident today. A boy teased Riley for her clothes and she called him stupid,” You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest, “we were decorating pumpkins and there was some paint involved—the other kid spilled paint all over her.”
“And no one called me?” Eddie asks, frustration evident in his face.
You held your hands up defensively, “Riley was very insistent that I don’t—luckily we had some spare clothes in the office.”
“Why—why wouldn’t she want you to call me?”
“She said she broke your rules,” You explain to him, “whatever that means. Regardless, I tried to clean her up as best I could. She still has a bit of paint in her hair.”
Eddie glances over at his daughter, still frowning as she plays. He knew the sadness was temporary, but damn if he wasn’t playing into it. He notices the braids a half second later, glancing back at you briefly and then toward her again.
“Sorry if I overstepped—her hair was a bit of a mess.” You admit to him, “I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to.”
Eddie laughs slightly, “No—it’s fine. I’m at a complete loss when it comes to that stuff.” He scratches at his cheek, grime covered rings leaving a dark mark against his skin in the process. You smile to yourself, pulling a wipe from the packet and handing it over.
“It’s—you got something on your face.” You tell him, pointing to the spot.
“Here?”
“No,” You point again, Eddie moves a smidgen over but still isn’t in the right spot, “—just, here, give me it—“ Eddie hands over the wipe and waits for you to clean away the mark, leaning toward you slightly.
“She’s had a rough day,” You tell him quietly, wiping at his face until it’s gone, tossing the wipe into the trash, “and maybe paint with a bunch of six year olds wasn’t too smart, but I think you’ll really like what she made.”
Eddie eyes you suspiciously, watching as you call out to Riley.
“Hey Ri, did you want to show your dad what you made today?”
She perks up slightly, skittering over to her desk in hurry as she fetches the small pumpkin before handing it over to Eddie.
“It’s you, daddy!” She beams, pointing out the dark marks that were supposed to be hair, comically wide eyes and a half smile on the front. He turned it, seeing the small group of bats she drew on the back. He smiles, rubbing tenderly at her chin.
“I wasn’t sure what the bats were all about but she insisted.”
“Oh,” Eddie notes, pulling his sleeve up to show off his inked up arm—and really, it didn’t shock you much, “that’s why.”
“Crap, Ri—I almost forgot,” You tell her, rounding your desk to open the drawer housing the pages of stickers, “I need you to pick out a sticker for your desk.”
She gasps excitedly, yanking away from Eddie without hesitation and running to your side, fingers dragging along the page until she finds the one she wants, letting you pluck it from the paper and hand it over.
Eddie knows he’ll still have to sit and talk with Riley when they get home to make sure she’s working through her emotions correctly instead of bottling them up—something he was much too guilty of as a teenager. He hates seeing her repeat the same habits he did, doing as much as he could to avoid it.
Eddie’s quick to thank you again and again, a strange habit he’s formed around you. Oddly enough, you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop him.
Grocery shopping is always an adventure with Riley. Eddie never had a list of things he needed, more or less just picking out whatever sounded good, but that also meant an unhealthy amount of snacks being piled in the cart. Eddie didn’t have it in him to tell Riley to put things back, knowing she’d pull out the big guns. Some would call him weak—he was, he could admit that.
“Can you reach it?” Eddie asked, Riley hoisted up onto his shoulders to reach the cereal box on the top shelf. It definitely wasn’t the safest option, but it was working.
“Higher!” She instructed, grunting out as she stretched, “Ha—gotcha!”
Eddie laughs, “Are we good?”
No response, a small amount of wiggling on his shoulders.
“Ri?”
She gasps suddenly, screaming out your name from over the aisle—Eddie rightfully panics, hoisting her off of his shoulders carefully.
“Riley, you can’t scream in public like that.” Eddie tells her, pulling the cereal box from her grip.
“But…Ms.—“ Riley defends feebly, her fingers pouting to the aisle over.
You did spot her, in fact, giving her a quick wave and a cheeky smile as you pushed your cart down the aisle, making your way through the store. When you round the corner, Eddie and her are still standing there arguing, animated enough that you stand back, not wanting to interrupt.
Eddie stares up at you after a moment, eyes already speaking an apology.
“Stop,” You tell him suddenly, a grin breaching your face, “no apologies, it’s not necessary.”
“I was going to apologize for my child’s lack of filter,” Eddie says, pulling gently at Riley’s ear, “but I guess she was just really excited to see you.”
“As I am you, miss.” You tell her softly, offering out your fist to her. She bumps it gently, giggling up at Eddie.
The silence that settles is bordering on awkward, both of you deciding to speak at the same time.
“So, you shop here—“
“You’re in the way of—“
Eddie chuckles awkwardly, “You first.”
“You’re in the way of the cereal I was going to grab.” You inform, waving toward that side of the aisle.
“Oh, shit.” He curses, quickly shoving his cart out of the way.
“Dad,” Riley sings, a telltale sign that Eddie had done something wrong, “that’s another dollar.”
“How about I buy you a chocolate bar and we call it even?” Eddie barters, staring the small child down.
She contemplates for a moment, “Deal.”
“She’s clever.” You note with a smirk, reaching around Eddie to grab the box of cereal before shoving it in your cart.
“And a handful.” Eddie adds fondly.
“Dad,” Riley pokes at Eddie’s side, “Dad, daddyyyy.”
“What, Ri?” He asks, turning to her.
“Can we invite her over for dinner?” She asks innocently, a grin appearing on her face, hopeful optimism some would call it.
“Riley—she’s your teacher, I can’t do that.”
“It’s not against any rules.” You shrug, mouth speaking before your brain can process. “I wouldn’t want to intrude though, that would be very nice of me.”
Eddie quickly answers, “Uh, you wouldn’t actually.”
“He’s making my favorite!” Riley interjects.
“And what’s that?” You ask with a similar enthusiasm.
“Spaghetti!” It was a mouthful for her to say, but you understand her well enough.
You shrug, glancing up at Eddie. “I don’t know, she’s selling me a pretty good dinner.”
“Would you?” Eddie asks, “Want to?”
“I don’t see why not?” You ask redundantly, “I would’ve ended up grabbing a pizza on my way home anyways—so why not some real Italian food?”
Eddie looks at you with an uneasy expression, “I don’t know about real—or Italian, but I promise it’ll be edible.”
“I’m sold.” You admit, slipping out a pen and paper from your purse, “Give me your address and the time I should be there.”
Riley is a tiny ball of excitement, yanking at the unoccupied hand Eddie left by his side as scribbled down on the notepad before handing it back to you. You note the information before slipping it back into your purse.
“Well Ri, I guess I’ll see you in a couple hours.” You tell her with a smile before looking up at Eddie, “Should I bring anything?”
“No, no—it’ll be our treat, right?” He asks, looking down at his daughter.
“Yep!” She pops the word, bouncing on her heels.
Even being around her energy was enough to exhaust you, so you could only imagine how Eddie was feeling. You offer a friendly wave to both of them before disappearing down the aisle, wondering what the hell just happened.
The moment you arrive at the trailer park, your heart feels like it’s going to pound out of your chest—not out of fear or nervousness, but mostly out of the unknown. It was the first time you’ve interacted with parents outside of work, not that you made it a habit, but you have befriended a few. It was a natural thing that happened and nothing that ever felt forced—with Eddie, it was strangely comfortable despite how little you knew about him, or Riley, even.
You pull to a stop outside the pale blue trailer, the front yard a mixture of new flowers and some wilted away, a few small statues of animals that you could guess were a product of Riley. You can hear her on the other side of the door before you even knock, belting out a song at the top of her lungs.
You knock loudly in hopes that Eddie can hear, thankfully he does, opening the door in record time—strangely fast when you take time to think about. You smile at the thought of him having been waiting at the door, then feeling ridiculous for even having that thought.
“You’re just in time,” Eddie says, slightly out of breath, “Riley’s putting on a show in the living room.”
You take in his appearance fully now, unashamed—he’s cleaner obviously, his hair looks more thought out and poised, small ringlet curls falling around his face and his bangs looking straighter, like he might’ve cut them. He’s got a pair of jeans on and a clean shirt, stain free—socks covering his feet, a pile of shoes stuffed by the door.
You step inside, toeing off your shoes wordlessly and placing your bag and coat on the coat hanger behind the door. Eddie shuts the door for you, nodding in the direction of the noise coming from several feet away.
“Is that Nirvana?” You ask curiously, turning your head back toward Eddie.
“She’s a character, I know,” Eddie feels the need to state, but that was already blatantly obvious, “it’s one of her favorite bands.”
You shrug, feeling indifferent.
“You don’t like them?” Eddie asks, noticing your stagnant expression.
“I don’t listen to much music.” You admit, “I don’t really have the time unless it is something from Barney or one of those silly education videos we show the kids.”
Eddie looks pained to hear it, eyebrows shooting up under his bang. Riley notices you then, hopping off of the couch and running toward you, arms wrapping around your legs in a tight hug.
“You made it,” She says, “daddy said dinner was almost done.”
“It is,” He confirms, setting the plates down on the kitchen table as he wanders around finishing things up, “you can sit, if you want.”
You opt against it, waiting until Riley busies herself with something else, joining Eddie near the kitchen stove, tapping your fingers against the kitchen counter gently.
“Smells good,” You tell him honestly, the scent invading your nose, “I can’t even remember the last time I cooked for myself.”
“She keeps me in check,” He nods behind him, “otherwise I’d be ordering carry out everyday like I was still in high school.”
You smile at that, silently agreeing—it was your current reality, but you also didn’t have the same responsibilities Eddie did.
You look around curiously, eyes falling on the jar placed on the shelf a few feet away, labeled ‘swear jar’ and by the looks of it, it was definitely time for a new one. Eddie looks up briefly to catch you staring at things, chuckling loudly behind you.
“I already know,” Eddie tells you, “It’s a terrible habit and I’ve tried to break it, we’re still working on it, clearly.”
You smile fondly, watching as Riley scattered her toys on the floor. “I try to keep it constrained around the kids, but it slips out every now and then. You just have to get creative, come up with other words—otherwise she’ll be saying fuck in public and I can’t imagine anything more embarrassing.”
Eddie gawks at your vulgar use of the words, face splitting into a subtle smile. “Too late.” He tells you.
You couldn’t even act surprised. Eddie nods knowingly at your expression, turning off the stove.
“Could you do me a huge favor?” Eddie asks.
“Anything.” You nod.
“Let Riley know the food is done and get her to the table—she can be a little hard headed about it.”
If there was anyone to combat that, it was you.
It only takes one try, much to Eddie’s obvious frustration as he glares Riley down—the young girl knew exactly what she was doing and he couldn’t fault her for it, she was clever.
“Do you want a beer?” Eddie calls from the kitchen.
You glance over at Riley who’s oblivious to the conversation, dragging her spoon along the empty plate. And as much as you would normally say yes, you can’t bring yourself to do it now.
“Uh no, I’ll be okay.” You tell him, waving your hand dismissively. Eddie shrugs nonchalantly, grabbing himself one.
Dinner is pleasant—and delicious. Riley takes up most of the talking points—her favorite animals, her favorite shows, and all the cool things she’s learned at school, not that you didn’t already know about them. But, she’s also terrible at stopping intrusive thoughts, much like any young kid is, and her questions catch you off guard every now and then.
“Are you married?” Coming from her, it sounds ridiculous—but she’s pointing at the ring on your hand with a curious look, her fingertip dragging over the gem.
“Riley.” Eddie reprimands, “Stop being nosey.”
Eddie was just as curious, but that didn’t matter.
“No, sweetheart—I’m not.” You tell her honestly with a short laugh and a head shake. “It was a present I got when I finished school.”
Riley’s lips puff out, thinking. “School like I do?—but you’re old.”
Eddie hangs his head slightly, taking a big chug of his beer.
It’s nothing you haven’t heard before, “I am.” You nod in agreement, “But no, it’s a little different. It’s school for grownups—it’s how I became a teacher.”
“Oh.” Is all she says, satisfied with your answer.
There’s a beat of silence before she turns to her father.
“Can I have a ring when I finish school?” She asks innocently.
“Sure.” Eddie agrees, downing the last bite on his plate.
Late dinners had become a habit lately with Eddie’s job not being as convenient as it used to—long hours, angry customers, it was a monotonous cycle but that money was good. Eddie really couldn’t complain, he’d just wished there was more time for Riley.
“Hey, squirt—go brush your teeth and get ready for bed.” Eddie tells her. She slumps a little, frowning over at you.
Eddie gives her a look—you’ve seen it several times before from many parents. Riley sighs in defeat and slips from her chair, stomping away quietly. You glance down at the dishes, then the sink before looking at Eddie. He’s got that distracted stare on his face as he turns, finishing off his beer as he watches Riley disappear into the bathroom.
“Why don’t you help her?” You suggest, “I can clean this up and you can get her into bed?”
Eddie looks uncertain, “No—I can—“
“It’s the least I can do,” You insist, “seriously—it’s not a problem.”
Eddie knows there’s no reason to argue, placing the empty bottle down on the table and meeting up with Riley down the hall, a squeal echoing through the trailer as he bursts through the doorway.
Eddie’s gotten Riley into a routine pretty easily, so it doesn’t take much for her to fall asleep besides a quick bedtime story while she snuggles up to Eddie before she’s out like a light and he’s sneaking out of her room, pulling the door closed slowly until it finally clicks shut.
You’d already managed to get most of the dishes washed by then—plates, silverware, cups, save for the giant pot that Eddie had cooked in.
“I can handle the rest if you need to leave.” Eddie says quietly, voice still low as he walks into the kitchen, flipping off the other lights as he goes. “Also—I’m sorry if you felt obligated to do this. Riley really likes you and sometimes she grows these…attachments.”
You take the clean towel he hands you, drying your hands as you turn to him, hip pressed against the counter as you lean there. “She’s not the first, trust me. I see those kids almost everyday and for the younger ones it’s a little…tricky, I guess.”
“Tricky?” Eddie asks curiously, sensing your apprehension around the word. He tossed the pot into the sink and scrubbed quietly, listening to you talk.
“Some of the kids don’t have the best home life, I try to keep things positive and cheerful—as much as I can, at least. Kids love being surrounded by love and I try to emulate that. The ones with divorced parents or just one even—you can tell they just need someone to understand them.”
Eddie tries not to think about it often—his past, his present, how Riley has to survive this world without her mom. He knows she’ll be safe and protected for the rest of her life, Eddie would make sure of it. But, for a kid to grow up without a mother—he knows the pain personally and it bothers Riley, even at this age and no matter how good she is at masking it.
Eddie huffs out a faint laugh, drying out the dish before placing it on the dish rack next to the sink, pressing his hands against the edge of the counter.
“I don’t ever mean to press or pry,” You assure Eddie, “but if Riley ever needs anything, tell me. I extend that to all of the parents but—she’s—“
“Different.” Eddie answers for you, a smile pulling at his face.
“She’s incredibly smart, you know.” You inform him, backing up slowly as he follows, reaching for your things to leave. “She picks up on words like nothing, she can do math in her head really well—you’ve got a tiny little genius on your hands.”
“Yeah—I’ve been helping her with her homework, she keeps telling me we need to brainstorm,” Eddie tells you, throwing his finger up to do air quotes, “when we get stuck on a problem.”
Your nose scrunches up in amusement as you find your coat over your arms, “That was definitely my fault.” You admit.
Eddie follows you out like a gentleman despite the frigid wind, hands shoved deep into his back pockets. He opens your door, the metal groaning in protest—it was an old car, reliable, trustworthy, and as your key turns in the ignition, nothing happens.
Scratch reliable—it was a piece of shit, through and through.
You rest your forehead against the steering wheel, mumbling a low, “Fuck me.”
Eddie takes a step forward, leaning between your open door to poke his head inside, “I can take a look if you want.”
You rub your hands over your face in frustration, looking up at him sheepishly. “I really don’t want to bother you with it.”
“Come on,” Eddie smiles, “I work on cars for a living, I think I’ll survive.”
You wave your hand toward the hood of your car in response. Eddie taps the hood of your car absentmindedly, rounding the front as you pull on the pedal near the floor to pop the hood open. He leans down, out of view, and you can’t help but follow after him, leaning into his space slightly as he examines your engine.
You wouldn’t even know where to start or what cord goes to what point or however it all worked—fortunately for Eddie, it only takes him a few minutes to figure it out.
Eddie makes a face of concentration as he reaches further inside, pulling at a small part until he can hold it in his hand, inspecting it further.
“Shit, yeah—“ Eddie says, confirming his suspicions, “you need new spark plugs.”
Your eyebrows knit together in obvious confusion.
“I can clean them up a bit and we can hope it starts—but you’ll need to buy new ones soon, otherwise this is gonna keep happening.” Eddie tells you, using the end of his shirt to wipe away the built up residue, your mouth dropping in shock.
“Eddie, what the—“ You quickly yank the spark plug from his hand, “that shirt is clean, what are you doing?”
Eddie’s a little startled, given your immediate reaction. He stumbles out an awkward laugh and gently pries the spark plug from your grip. “They’re just clothes.”
And you do feel bad, but it’s become your second nature to stop messes, keep kids clean, and slip into the normal habit of being a teacher and in turn, a bit motherly.
Eddie’s faze doesn’t linger from yours, watching as you deflated slightly. “Sorry—I can’t help it.”
“I get it,” Eddie grins slightly, “but don’t worry, it’s an old shirt anyways.”
Your cheeks run hot, triggered by embarrassment and something you were too afraid to admit.
And if Eddie sees it, he doesn’t say anything.
He fiddles with the car a moment longer before finally closing the hood, “Try it now.”
It does start—with some moaning and groaning, but it works and that’s satisfying enough for you.
“Thank you.” You tell him, looking up at him from where’s squeezed between the car and the door again, dark grease stains staring you in the face—along with a lot more, but you quickly turn away.
“No problem,” He shrugs, “—hey, why don’t you bring it to the shop when you have time?”
“Are you sure?” You ask.
It’s a recurring theme with you two, constantly afraid of offending the other or doing something out of line.
“Yeah,” He nods, “It’ll save the hassle of you being overpriced or selling something you don’t need. I can have it done in an hour.”
“Small problem,” You tell him begrudgingly, “I’m pretty sure I work the same hours you do—so that makes it nearly impossible.”
“Are you busy next Saturday?” He asks boldly, no easing into it.
“No.” You answer hesitantly, narrowing your eyes at him.
“Stop by here and I’ll drive you up to the shop,” He tells you, “I’ve got a set of keys so it won’t be a problem.”
“Do you do this for all your customers?” You ask with a soft laugh.
“Only the special ones,” Eddie replies with a wide grin, bordering on flirtatious, “—Riley would have my head if she found out you needed help and I didn’t at least try.”
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” You respond teasingly.
Eddie shrugs in response, the smugness written all over his face. “I’ll see you on Monday.” He says, slipping the door closed gently.
You’ve never sat through a longer Sunday waiting for a dreadful Monday to come.
Eddie has a rough start to his morning, which isn’t new, but he tries to make the best of it, even if Riley is having none of it. She sobs most of the time spent getting dressed, not even allowing Eddie to touch her hair, leaving it a tangled mess atop her head. He’s learned to choose his battles, managing to get her ready and to school with enough time to spare that can allow him to drive to work without the constant worry of being late.
When you spot him you can’t help but smile, less forced and a lot more genuine than most of the ones you gave.
“Hard morning.” He mouths over Riley’s shoulder, her face tucked into his neck and arms wound tightly around it.
You frown in response, patting Riley’s back as he moves closer, “It’s okay, I hate Mondays too.” You tell her comfortingly.
“Hey, kid—you’ve gotta let go.” He tells her softly, nudging her away from his neck, “I have to get to work and you have school.”
She doesn’t move—Eddie’s face falls, a heavy sigh leaving his mouth. You hold up a finger to him, asking him to wait. He nods, slightly confused as you walk around him to his back, catching Riley’s gaze. She quickly hides her face, making a small noise.
“Tell you what,” You start, crossing your arms over your chest, “if you let go of your daddy now, I can probably have your hair braided before class starts.”
She peaks her head up slowly and you know you’ve got her attention.
“Daddy, I want down.” She tells him and Eddie scoffs lightly.
“How?” Eddie asks you with a look of disbelief, placing Riley on the floor. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve been struggling with her all morning.”
“She probably senses your frustration.” You tell him honestly.
Eddie never took his own emotions into account, looking down at Riley, her hand still latched into his.
“Besides, kids are complex but really simple,” You kneel down to Riley’s level, grabbing a single stray curl, “they all want, you just have to figure out what it is.”
“I tried touching her hair,” Eddie defends, “she wasn’t having it.”
“Because daddy makes my hair look ugly.” Riley complains softly, staring up at you with earnest eyes. You laugh to yourself, patting her hand and letting her curl her fingers around your palm.
You look up at Eddie with a sad smile, sending his rapidly growing frustration, nodding at him slightly. “Go—it’s okay.”
He scratches at his forehead, feeling horrible for wanting nothing more than to leave immediately. He prides himself on being able to handle himself well under stress, anger—every god awful emotion imaginable, but he needed a break, even if that meant leaving without a proper goodbye.
Besides, you did a perfect job at distracting Riley, playing with the ends of her hair as you asked, “One braid or two?”
“Two.” She smiles, bouncing on her heels. “Please?”
“You got it, babe.” You tell her.
You’ve experienced connections with kids before, some stronger than others, but nothing like with Riley. It was hard to comprehend, or fully imagine was capable, but you’re happy to be there for any kid, however they needed you.
The week remains meltdown free after that and Saturday rolls around quicker than you expect. When you arrive at Eddie’s trailer Riley is nowhere to be seen.
“She’s with my uncle.” Eddie explains. “He’s more like her grandpa—but yeah, he’s keeping her for the night.”
“Oh, okay.” You nod.
“I needed a break.” He admits without prompting, feeling the need to get it off his chest.
“Look, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” You tell him politely, “I’m not in any place to judge you.”
“I know—I just, nevermind—“ He laughs awkwardly, holding his hand out, “Mind if I drive?”
“Please?" You beg, slapping the keys into his open palm.
The drive is quiet and Eddie can’t be bothered to fill it, relishing in the silence and letting it settle. His hand grips the worn out steering wheel, rings cracking against the leather. He remembers the feeling faintly, the pull in his stomach from anxiety, the fluttering butterfly feeling of the unknown. It only happened once, with Riley’s mom.
It was their first date, a girl Eddie had met by chance at one of his shows at the Hideout—he never expected her to turn his life upside down, but she did.
It feels cheap, thinking this way—that the possibility of you and him having the same experience as he did several years ago could even be possible. He barely knew you, yet he could see it. He saw it then and he saw it now. Eddie’s never believed in soulmates or one true love’s—he still doesn't. But, he’s always believed in taking chances, even if things seemed slim to none. He pushes the thought aside for now, offering a tight smile to your warm one, pulling into the entrance to the shop.
He leaves for a brief moment, unlocking the side door to raise the garage and leave enough room to fit your car inside.
You hate how it feels like you’re back in high school again, sneaking into somewhere you shouldn’t, even though you knew this wasn’t illegal and Eddie worked there. It made you feel giddy—that same naive exuberance spreading throughout your body.
When you’re finally inside and Eddie can start his work, it’s a waiting game. You wander around aimlessly, finally interrupted by Eddie’s voice, “We have a lobby if you want to sit down.” He offers, using the wrench to point in that direction.
You shake your head, gradually walking to his side.
“Are you sure it’s safe to wear your rings while you’re doing this?” You ask, pointing at his hand.
“Yes,” He says with a laugh, “I’ve done it for a little over seven years and I’ve never been hurt before.”
Eddie catches your gaze, eyebrows pulling together.
“Would it make you feel better if I took them off?” Eddie asks in a slight teasing tone, a playful way of making fun of you.
“No, no—I believe you—“ You tell him, but Eddie’s already removing them, placing them on the tray behind him.
“Better to be safe than sorry, right?” He asks with a smirk, flipping the wrench between his fingers.
Showoff, your brain screams. “Yep.” You answer meekly.
He leans over the hood, shirt riding up his back in the process, revealing an even larger ink than the one on his arm, you tilt your head and can’t help but stare, wondering what was underneath.
“Can you hand me a rag?” Eddie asks, his hand shooting behind him blindly—you don’t hear him immediately so he turns, catching where your gaze had been.
He smiles cautiously, glancing down at his chest.
“Were you—“ He points toward his back, aiming for his ass.
“No—no god, I was—I saw the tattoo on your back.” You stutter out, “I was just wondering what it was.”
“Oh,” Eddie says, lifting his shirt up with no warning, toned muscle and pale skin on display, a large intricate design of tree spreading from the side of his chest and over his right pectoral around to his back, covering a large percentage of it, “it’s not that interesting—but it’s a special one.”
“Can I ask why?”
It’s an innocent question, only wanting to understand him better.
“Uh—it’s a little silly, so don’t laugh.” Eddie prefaces, shifting his shirt back down. “I got it a couple years after I met Riley’s mom—she never like restaurants or fancy dates so we always ended up grabbing fast food and sitting out at the park under a tree.”
“That’s beautiful,” You say truthfully, “it’s beautiful.”
“It was, uh—before she passed,” Eddie clears his throat, rubbing at the back of his ear awkwardly, “anyways, it comforts Ri when she asks about her, all she really has is pictures. She’s still young though, so I try to answer questions when she has them.”
“I’m sorry.” You say, but you can tell Eddie doesn’t need to hear it. Still, he accepts it.
“It’s been a while, I’ve processed it.” Eddie tells you, “I guess it’s my dedication to her and that I’ll always be there for Riley.”
“You’re a good dad,” You tell him, a hand placed on his fidgeting ones as he twisted the spark plug in his grip, “—but I don’t think that needs to be said.”
“Yeah, but shoving my kid off on my uncle isn’t very fatherly of me.” He says, deprecating himself. “Some days are just…rough.”
Eddie turns to finish up the job with a somber look, eyebrows pulled together in concentration, managing to replace your spark plugs with brand new ones without a problem before testing to make sure your car starts with ease. It does, thankfully.
“I have those days too,” You assure him, arms crossed casually over your chest, “I know it’s not the same but I understand, to some degree.”
Eddie makes a soft ‘pfft’ sound, pulling up the front of his shirt to wipe away the sweat and grime from his face.
“A classroom full of kids all day and no way to escape,” Eddie’s voice is muffled behind the cloth, “I’d lose my fucking mind.”
You stare selfishly, eyeing the small patch of hair that disappears under his belt, the other littering did tattoos on his chest—it should feel wrong, but it doesn’t settle the immense need and want you felt in the moment.
Again, Eddie catches you.
You’re better at recovering this time, ignoring his pointed gaze and subtly raised eyebrow.
“I’m usually about ninety percent of the way there every day.” You admit sheepishly.
“I know you’re probably going to say no, but do you want a beer?” Eddie asks, “I’ve got a few stashed in the fridge in my office.”
“Yeah, actually.” You reply and Eddie pulls his bottom lip between his teeth in an effort to suppress his smile, “I will.”
“Follow me.” Eddie instructs, nodding his head in the opposite direction. You follow closely behind his quick footsteps, failing to hear the, “Oh—but watch out for the tires—“
Your feet slip out from under you and you fully prepare your face to hit the concrete, but it never does.
“Holy shit,” You gasp, “this place is like a death trap.”
Eddie chuckles loudly at that, the arms that squeezed you tight to keep you from falling finally pulling you up.
“That’s my fault,” Eddie admits, “I forgot to put them away yesterday.”
You sigh shakily, staring up at Eddie. “Once my heart stops pounding out my chest I’ll be okay.”
“Sorry.” Eddie offers a weary smile, shifting you in front of him rather than letting you trail behind. “It’s on your left, yep—and the light switch is on—nevermind, you got it.”
You laugh under your breath, scooting forward as Eddie slipped in behind you, fetching the two bottles from the fridge and slamming them on the edge of the desk, subsequently popping the caps off. You stare on with a dazed astonishment.
“No bottle opener.” He offers humorously, handing you one of the bottles. You take it from his hand, regardless of how dirty it may be from his hands that were still horribly messy.
You take a seat on the edge of the old desk, legs crossed at your ankles as you sipped at the beer. “So, how much do I owe you?”
“Oh, don’t worry about—“
“Eddie.”
“I’m not joking.”
You roll your eyes, pulling a small wad of cash out of your front pocket—it was around a hundred bucks, since you weren’t sure how expensive those parts actually were.
“Take it.” You say, shoving the money at his chest.
“No.” He answers adamantly, pushing your hand away.
“At least let me pay for the parts?”
Eddie says your name once, full tone and leaving no room for argument. “I meant it, you’ve done enough to help me out, let me repay the favor.”
“It’s my job, Eddie.” You retort, a tinge of annoyance in your tone.
“And this is mine.” He tells you. “So get over it—I’m not accepting your money.”
“You’re so infuriating.” You complain with heartfelt irritation, shoving the money back into your pocket. Eddie rolls his eyes just as enthusiastically, shifting from his spot on the wall until he’s lingering in the space between, still a comfortable few feet away.
Eddie chugs the beer like nothing while you continue to nurse yours, only taking a few measly sips.
“The ring,” Eddie asks suddenly, “you said you got it as a gift for finishing school?”
And maybe he’s just trying to start friendly conversation—but you’re not sure if you should lie again, or tell him the truth. You set the beer down, twisting the jewelry over your finger. You never talked about how it came about or the history behind it. It had always been a secret for you and you only. Unlike Eddie, you didn’t process death as easily.
“That was a lie,” You tell him honestly, extending the moment of sincerity you had with him earlier, “can I trust you with something and swear you’ll never repeat it back to anyone—even me?”
Eddie makes an odd face, trying to decipher your choice of wording. But, he nods.
“I got pregnant during my final year of college,” You start, the words hitting harder than you expect, but you swallow the painful lump in your throat, “she was due in December of that year, but I had a stillborn around six months.”
Eddie’s expression quickly shifts, eyes flicking down toward the floor.
“It’s her birthstone—“ You say, holding out your hand weakly as Eddie reaches for it, looking at the stone embedded in the silver, “she probably would’ve been around the same age as your daughter.”
Eddie says your name tenderly, fingers still lingering on the underside of your palm, “I’m so sorry.”
You laugh softly, clearly uncomfortable. “Anyways, everything happens for a reason, right? I guess it’s just a small way to remember her.”
Eddie hates how well he can relate to it.
“Are you done?” He asks, reaching for your beer.
“Uh, yeah.” You respond slowly, forcing yourself to take a breath. “Thanks.”
The walk to your car is even slower, quiet, whatever happier mood that lingered earlier was nowhere in sight. You blame yourself for bringing the mood down, trying to find someone to lighten it. But, Eddie’s quicker than you, and throwing you a curveball from miles away.
“Can I take you out?” Eddie asks boldly, “On a proper date, I mean.”
“Um,” You linger on the word, standing uneasy as you lean against your car door, “—Eddie, we probably shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” Eddie asks, headstrong like his daughter unfortunately.
“Things can get…complicated.” You tell him, “I don’t want Riley getting the wrong idea.”
“Fine, not a date then.” Eddie levels.
“Then what?”
“We can hang out.”
Suddenly it’s like you’re eighteen again and you can’t help but want to go against every moral set before you.
“Hang out,” The words feel weird on your tongue, “Eddie—you do know what that usually entails, right?”
“Hey, I’m a complete gentleman, okay?” Eddie defends, “That’s why I asked you on a date.”
Your lips pull together in a tight line, hating yourself for wanting to say yes so badly.
Eddie pulls that salaciously sweet grin of his, hands placed on either side of the top of your car, breath quickening as he pulls a bit closer, still giving you enough room to feel comfortable.
“Tell me no then,” Eddie challenges, “just say the word and I’ll drop it.”
Eddie can see it in your face, how badly you wanted to cave and say yes.
“Eddie.” You warn, the name sounding too wicked on your tongue. “Please.”
You’re not sure what you’re begging for.
“Fine,” Eddie tells you lowly, eyes connecting with yours when they try to pull away, “—but let me do this one thing and then if you want to change your mind, we can forget about this.”
“What thing?” You retort back with attitude, conflicting emotions causing you to play into his game, whatever it was.
Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, “I’m gonna kiss you.” He tells you openly, “After that, if you change your mind, that’s fine.”
You find yourself nodding without fully realizing and Eddie’s lips are against yours in a slow press, not hurried or rushed, a small noise pulled from your lips as he pushes further, lips smacking against yours loudly. You inhale sharply, the scent of Eddie surrounding you—it was sweat and cigarettes and everything that would normally disgust you in an instant, but with Eddie it was intoxicating. Your hands drift to his face carefully, thumbs dragging along his cheeks gently, pulling up to wrap your arms around his neck, fully giving yourself over to him, allowing yourself to cherish the moment properly.
Eddie muffled a soft laugh against your lips, a hand cupping the side of your face out of curiosity, wanting to touch you as much as he possibly could while still trying to be respectful to you. Eddie seems to forget how dirty he is though, because when he does finally pull away, he’s laughing again.
“Fuck, I forgot,” He says, reaching for the clean handkerchief in his back pocket, wiping the dark mark off of your face, “sorry.”
“You apologize too much.” You tell him, shoving his hand away playfully. “—I will, by the way.”
Eddie beams at the answer, “I fucking knew it.”
“Hey—no gloating,” You warn him and Eddie shrinks slightly, it was a wonder what a stern voice could do, and you’d mastered that pretty well in the past few years, “we need to be careful about this—whatever this is.”
Eddie nods, “Yeah, of course.”
“Riley can’t know, my job—no one.” You tell him. “If this is just a one time thing, I don’t want it ruining anything.”
And Eddie should feel slighted, but he does understand.
“It won’t.” He assures you and you hate how easily it makes you smile.
You both knew there was no possible way this was going to be a one time thing. You’d be lying to yourself.
“Good.” You smile triumphantly, “Now—are you driving or am I?”
Eddie snatches the keys from your hands with an eye roll and a self-righteous smirk.
There was never a way for you to realize just how much trouble you were getting yourself into, not yet.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfic#my writing#1kfic
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𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐲 ➶ 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐲!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary: based off of this post by poppy-metal, my beloved. eddie's a popular camboy, along with your best friend steve. one lucky introduction manages to turn your life upside down, arguably, for the better. a special mention to nyxoz's amazing camboy edit.
cw: 18+ (minors dni), modern au, camboy!eddie, camboy!steve, bestfriend!steve, steddie (friendship but definitely consensual sex talks), innocent-ish!reader, lacks a lot of positive sexual experience and eddie is a wonderful helper, fingering and first time orgasms, mentions of oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (pulling out), slightly dom!eddie, masturbation, voyeurism (consensual), a lot of unnecessary backstory because i couldn't help myself, if i missed anything lmk!
word count: 9k — part two
Your relationship with Eddie was nothing short of unorthodox. It was a winding, ridiculous tale of how you met, how your relationship flourished, and how things ended up where they were now—but it should be noted first, you were well aware of Eddie’s profession. You’ve never knocked him for it, it was fascinating more often than it wasn’t, how easily he drew in a crowd and kept them captivated. It was something you’d never be capable of, you knew that. Eddie’s confidence oozed from him, on camera and off, despite his conscious humbleness—he knew what he had and he worked it well. It was his means of living, after all.
Steve shows you a picture of him on a busy Friday night almost three years prior, out at a packed bar, tucked into a tight corner away from all the music and sweaty bodies.
“He seems—“
“Intimidating?” Steve finishes with a laugh, letting you swipe through the few pictures of him and Steve, arms thrown around each other—they seemed close, and given their similar line of work, you could only assume how close. “He’s not, I promise.”
“I’m not trying to date anyone, Steve.” You remind him adamantly, pushing his phone back toward him.
Eddie was cute, handsome even—you could admit that at least.
“Oh, no—no,” Steve panics, shoving his phone into his pocket, “that’s not what I was implying.”
“Then what?” You ask with a soft laugh, “Are you trying to tell me I need more friends?”
Steve shrugs halfheartedly, “Not so much you—more him.”
“Fine, I’ll meet him.” You agree with hesitance, “On one condition.”
Steve rolls his eyes in amusement, a subtle smirk pulling at his features. “I’m not giving you free content—you’ve gotta pay up like the rest of the world.”
“Ew, fuck no—“ You reply in disgust, never appreciating the closed door policy in your shared apartment more than right now. “I was going to say you can cook dinner for the rest of the month—I don’t need to see any more of your dick than I already do.”
“Hey, that was one time—“ Steve defends weakly, “and I wasn’t even in that line of work yet."
“That’s worse!” You tell him, “That’s why we have rules, Steve.”
Despite that, Steve’s still one of the better roommates you’ve had and cleans up after himself better than you, most of the time, but what he makes up for in cleanliness, he lacks in spatial awareness—eventually he learns to keep the door closed.
He brings Eddie back to the house the next night, busting through the door with giddy excitement, in the middle of an animated conversation when Steve catches you on the couch, scrolling through an endless list of movies with no idea what to watch.
“See, I told you she’d still be up.” Steve tells Eddie, closing the door behind him as they both hurled toward the couch, squeezing you between them. “Have you eaten?”
You grimace at the overwhelming smell of body wash, the obvious post orgasmic energy radiating from both of them.
“No,” You sigh, resting your hands in your lap and fiddling with your fingers idly, nose scrunching up in irritation, “—god you two smell like you drowned each other in a tub of fucking green apple.”
“I need to buy some,” Eddie says, “it’s all Steve had with him.”
You nod slightly, “So, how was the turnout?”
The both break out into a grin, clear that it was nothing near disappointing. “Someone sent in like five thousand, I think—something around that. Not to mention all the new people it brought in since Eddie’s fanbase grows by a thousand every fucking day.”
“I can’t even wrap my own head around it.” Eddie admits honestly, eyes flitting toward his bare knees that showed through his ripped jeans. “Anyways, it’s nice to official meet you.”
Eddie turns to you then, sacharinne smile on his face.
“Oh, right,” Steve remembers, “yeah—this is Eddie.”
“Should this feel weirder?” Eddie asks, “I feel like I kinda just busted in here—“
“And I wouldn’t expect anything less,” You look over toward him briefly before glancing back at Steve, “not when you’re friends with this idiot.”
“Hey—“ Steve retaliates in defense.
You chuckle softly, forcing yourself up from the squished space between them.
“Wait, where are you going?” Steve asks, leaning up from the couch like he’s going to follow.
You step to your phone, reaching for it from where’s resting on the counter, tossing it into Steve’s hands, his reflexes impeccable as he catches it with ease.
“You two can celebrate your record breaking sex tape by buying me dinner,” You smirk, “I’m feeling—“
“Chinese?” Eddie suggests, both of you glancing over toward a mortified Steve.
“Yeah, that sounds perfect.”
Eddie’s never been more instantly intrigued by someone in his entire life—he’s seen pictures, heard about you through Steve, but nothing prepared him for actually being in your presence.
He had to learn everything about you.
Steve can’t admit his jealousy, but it’s there—definitely.
It doesn’t take long for you and Eddie to click, and when it happens, it’s impossible to seperate you both. Eddie streams a lot, more than half of the week and similar to a full-time job, and it seems just as exhausting as a regular nine to five—and Steve’s been kind enough to support you through your own hardships, both with the money of his parents and his, it’s made life easy for you and a lot less stressful as you navigate through your final year of college. You had great friends and there was no doubting that, but it blows your mind just how much money Eddie makes in a month—hell, even a weeks time.
You don’t argue when Eddie tries to pay for meals or nights out, knowing he would string things into a full-blown argument if it boiled to that point—not out of frustration and Eddie would never realize his voice out of tone, but he had more money than he knew what to do with, so spending it on and for the people he cared about seemed like a good enough reason. It becomes tradition—Eddie starts taking Sunday’s off, a day designated for the both of you; time to relax and check-in.
It usually ended up with you two sprawled out on his couch or his bed—this time, his bed—talking about whatever came to mind. You were always curious about his job, whether it be the things he did, the people he encountered, and Eddie never had any qualms about answering.
“What about stalkers?” You ask timidly, playing with the cuff of his sweatpants, delicate fingers dragging over the curve of his ankle. “Steve had one once—it got really bad.”
Eddie shakes his head, body curled around his pillow as his fingers rubbed against his blanket. “I guess I’ve dodge that bullet so far.” He admits, feeling appreciate that he’s avoided the creeps that well. “But, you always get the occasional weirdo who pays for a private showing—those are always tricky.”
“Can’t people request those whenever?” You ask, glancing over at his sleeping computer, his expensive camera covered for—well, reasons. Despite living most of his life online, he was still paranoid to some degree—and maybe it would be easier to not have his setup in his bedroom, but he enjoyed his small apartment and it didn’t make sense to uproot himself, not when he felt safe here. Plus, he was closer to you, and that’s all he really cared about.
“It depends on my availability—they usually schedule it around what I have set up but sometimes I do surprise and I typically charge more for those, but I haven’t done one in a while.”
You sit up slightly, turning over onto your stomach until you’re beside him, head propped up in your hand as you looked at him. “Why?” You ask curiously.
Eddie laughs weakly, “Well, I use to do them on Sundays.” It dawns on you then, mouth forming into a soft “Oh.”
“Yeah, so I don’t do them anymore,” He shrugs, “I mean, they were good money—like, really good. But, the more people are willing to pay, the weirder things get.”
“How weird?”
Eddie looks away briefly, racking his brain for all the odd encounters he’s had, “Uh, there’s a lot of feet.”
“People showing you their feet?” You ask incredulously.
“No, no—“ Eddie interrupts with a chuckle, pressing his hand against your cheek gently, thumb soothing out the furrow in your brow, “mine and the other person usually gets off to it—“
“Like, men?”
Eddie shrugs, “Usually—my audience is predominantly male but there’s a good mix of everything, it makes no difference to me as long as they’re not being excessively creepy.”
“This is fascinating.” You mumble to yourself, noticing Eddie’s smug grin. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Do you—do you wanna watch one?” Eddie asks boldly, there’s a tinge of hesitancy in his voice that maybe you’ll decline—not that he would be offended, but he knew how curious you were about all of it, even from the little of it that Steve has exposed to you.
You don’t immediately say no, “Won’t that be weird?” You ask, “I think part of me has avoided all of it because I respect that part of you—“
“I don’t need respect, sweetheart. It’s my job.” He says with a smile, tapping his ringed pointer finger against the tip of your nose. “So, whaddya say? Free of charge.”
“Sure, I’ll bite.” You giggle softly, letting him climb over you clumsily to settle himself at his desk.
“Go sit over there,” He motions toward the book of his bedroom, a cozy corner with a fuzzy chair that looked way too expensive. You took a seat, pulling the decorative pillow over your lap as you crossed your legs, watching as Eddie typed away furiously at his phone before placing it against the top of his desk, pressing at his keyboard until his computer came to life, “—I’m trusting you to be quiet, okay?”
You make a motion of zipping your lips, earning a subtle head shake from Eddie, his hand reaches up in a grabbing motion.
“Pass me that lube.”
Your eyes switch to the table quickly, noticing the small bottle of clear lube, sitting there, out in the open. It was his bedroom, you couldn’t judge. You pick up the bottle carefully, pinched between your thumb and pointer finger, tossing it in Eddie’s direction.
“It’s a new bottle,” He tells you, catching the bottle in one hand, “and I keep my stuff clean.”
“I believe you.” You respond, hands held up in defeat as you settled back into the chair.
It doesn’t take long for him to find a willing customer who had nothing better to do at ten o’clock on a Sunday night—he snaps into the persona easily, a more rambunctious, showy version of himself. You laugh quietly, catching the way his hands rub over the front of his sweatpants absently—you can only assume it’s to assist himself in getting hard. You’re not a prude either, by any means, so it’s not shocking or outrageous to watch, but it feels slightly invasive.
And it wasn’t that you didn’t find Eddie attractive—you did, tremendously, but things have never tipped past the point of typical friendship; he hugs you longer than necessary and sometimes kisses you on the cheek or forehead, but outside of that, it’s normal. Eddie also loves to cuddle, but that’s not even necessarily reserved for you, because you’ve caught him doing it with Steve too—but their dynamic was so vast and complicated that you didn’t want to try and dissect it.
Eddie starts off slow, a kind greeting and genuine smile, attempting to connect with the person on the other end. Eddie’s never judged people and the way they attempt to make connections, whether transactional or not—it was his job and he enjoyed, even the more awkward and strange ones.
You watch on with a faint smile, thumb tucked between your teeth as you chewed gently at the skin—to Eddie, it was like you weren’t even there, but deep in his mind he felt it; pensive eyes and anxiety of his next move, maybe he had taken things too far. But, there was no turning back now.
It ramps up rather quickly, his hand slipping from palming over his sweatpants to his thumbs tucking into the fabric to pull them just under his ass, his half-hard cock in view now, slightly obscured by the arm of his chair.
It’s astonishing, the fact that you haven’t seen Eddie’s dick until now, in such a nonchalant manner. To him, it was a normal day—knowing that thousands upon thousands of strangers already knew what his dick looked like, his ass, practically every part of his body—yet you’ve only been privy to what he’s shown you. His face, his chest, and maybe a glimpse of him in his underwear at most—littered in tattoos from head to toe, constrasting against his pale, milky skin.
You can’t hear the person on the other end as much, let alone see them at this angle, looking at an oddish angle from the corner—you can’t see Eddie’s face fully, but it’s flush, cheeks reddened from exhurtion. He snaps open the bottle of lube from below the desk, expertly squirting into his hand before tossing it to the floor carelessly, hands switching positions with ease. His left comes under to cup his balls, right hand covered in lube as it wraps around his cock, pulling gently at the shaft, thumb rubbing over the slit at the tip tenderly, moaning some outlandish remark to the person on the other end—their name or maybe their username, you muffle the small laugh that escapes with your hand.
Eddie can hear it too and it breaks his concentration slightly, open mouth pulling into a faint smirk, releasing an obnoxious moan into the air, mostly for the sake of teasing you. It’s effective enough, shutting you up for the remaining duration of the show until Eddie’s coming into his hand harshly, eyes squeezed together in concentration as he squeezes the head of his dick in an effort to stop that painful throbbing—it never felt as good when it was forced like this. It was all for the customer’s sake. But, you still couldn’t help the way your thighs squeeze together at the sight of Eddie’s hand covered in his own come or the way his dick looks absurdly good in the low light, shining and sticky with lube.
Eddie shuts off his camera soon after, letting out a long shaky sigh as he uses the towel at his desk to wipe himself down.
“So, thoughts?” Eddie asks curiously, peering up from his chair, head still downturned as he wipes at his stomach.
“Pretty tame.” You shrug, though you’ve never really expected to mark consensual voyeurism off your list of things to try at least once in your life, let alone with Eddie.
“They’re not always crazy,” Eddie says, pulling the band of his sweatpants back over his groin, allowing himself some decency as he turned to you, swiveling in his chair playfully, “—was that…too much?”
“Oh—me, watching you?” You stammer, shaking your head furiously. “I didn’t—I mean, it’s like work for you. But, it was…interesting.”
“You’ve never watched someone masturbate before, have you?” Eddie asks with a hint of teasing.
The boldness of the questions were shocking—Eddie was egging it on and you couldn’t be bothered to stop it.
“I—no.” You decide on, feeling inclined to offer up an embarrassing secret, considering the situation, “I don’t do it, either—I’ve never tried it.”
“You’re fucking with me.” Eddie huffs a laugh, leaning forward in his chair, hands clasped together as they press under his chin. “You’ve never even—like, not even with a partner?”
“Oh, yeah—I just, don’t do it, you know?” It feels like a redundant question, so Eddie doesn’t answer. “Sex is…kind of an afterthought to me, it’s never really been that great. I only ask a lot of questions because I’m nosey—“
Eddie snorts at that, nodding in agreement.
“So you’re telling me you’ve never even snuck off with one of Steve’s mountain of sex toys? Just out of curiosity?”
Another shake of your head.
Eddie clears his throat, the gears in his brain working tirelessly. He feels the need nagging at him, unspoken—it was deservice to you, having never felt what a good orgasm could be like and Eddie was a pleaser, after all.
“Forgive me if I’m overstepping by asking—“ You brace yourself, squeezing at the pillow tucked between your legs, “—do you want to?”
“Masturbate?” You ask with a faint laugh.
“Yeah, but—like, I could help?”
Eddie isn’t even sure what he’s asking, but it clicks in your brain immediately.
“You don’t find that weird?”
“I literally jerk off in front of strangers for money and fuck my friends for the exact same reason.” Eddie explains, shrugging his shoulders. “Plus, everyone deserves to feel good—look, the offer is there if you want to—“
“Okay,” You answer quickly, quick enough that Eddie’s eyes widen slightly in shock, “but, maybe we can smoke a little first?”
“You don’t have to be nervous about it—“
“No, I know—I just thought it could be more fun that way.”
It was definitely the nerves, but Eddie agrees regardless.
“This is ridiculous.” You giggle, shifting between Eddie’s spread legs, bare from the waist down. “Isn’t it?”
“Not at all,” Eddie says comfortingly, rubbing at the underside of your thighs as he settles behind you, your back resting against his bare chest, “we can try a vibrator if you want—or if you feel more comfortable just using your hand—“
“Hand is fine,” You reply airily, letting his palm cover your hand without question, “if it doesn’t work we can try something else.”
“Oh, it’ll work.” Eddie replies confidently, forcing down the chuckle that rises in his chest. His mouth falls open in concentration as he pulls at your hair gently, pushing it to one side as he peers over your shoulder, “here, rest your head.”
You lean back slightly, glancing up to him briefly. His smile is warm, brimming with excitement and temptation at the idea of doing something so contrasting from your normal behavior.
“Which feels more comfortable?” Eddie asks, switching between your two fingers—pointer and middle then middle and ring.
“Uh, the second one?” You reply hesitantly, switching between the two briefly, “Wait—yeah, definitely the second one.”
Eddie laughs again, the tingle of his high settling in.
“Okay, we’ll normally I would suggest lube but spit works just as good,” Eddie says, nodding toward your mouth slightly, “—just lick your fingers—yeah, like that.” Eddie watches with intensity as you bring your fingers to your mouth, sucking in the two fingers briefly until Eddie pulls them away, pressing them against your core. “A lot of people can’t come from just penetration so that’s why it’s important to pay attention to everything else—I don’t know how you usually do it—“
“Uh—I’ve never really,” You linger around the words, feeling silly for not allowing yourself to say it, you giggle softly, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper orgasm before—I know the feeling but it’s never hit me, if that makes sense?”
“You’re telling me this now?” Eddie asks with a pitched tone, eyebrows disappearing under his bangs. “God, okay—I’ll just lead you through what I usually do and let you take over when you’re comfortable.”
You nod slowly, feeling the faint press of his fingers against yours, dragging up your cunt slowly, grazing against your clit.
“I can’t believe you’ve never even came before—“ Eddie mumbles, not necessarily to you, more of an unfiltered thought, “who the hell have you been fucking?”
You sigh softly, his fingers leading yours in slow, loose circles of the tight bundle of nerves, “Doesn’t matter.” You reply carelessly, “You said you’d help, right?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie answers quickly, his other hand settling on the inside of your thigh, keeping them spread open, calloused fingers resting against your soft skin. He circles your clit once more, picking up the pace slightly, you jump at the motion, eyebrows knitting together. “There we go,” He coos, noticing your change in expression, “see how good that feels?”
You nod lazily, free hand circling your entrance, fingertip grazing against the opening—it’s not a new feeling, it’s just never been your own hand doing the work. The first finger dips in with hesitancy, Eddie’s pace slowing slightly at the sight, not wanting to overstimulate you too much.
It feels lackluster and the angle sucks, your fingers not filling you out as well as you thought they would, you curl them desperately, sneaking in another finger in hopes that it might help, but it’s nothing but frustration on your end.
“Hey, hey—“ Eddie interrupts, noticing the stress of your lip pulled between your teeth, “let me do it, you focus on the other half, yeah?”
You nod in agreement, his guiding hand leaving you suddenly. He slips his rings off his fingers wordlessly, dropping them in his bedside table, the clang defeaning in the silence of his room.
“I’ll keep it slow,” Eddie tells you, “just communicate what you need.”
With another nod, his first finger breaches you slowly, the stretch different from your own fingers—wider, larger, more filling than your own. “Oh,” It slips out involuntarily, hand shooting over your mouth at the sound, “—sorry, I’m not trying to make it weird—that just feels so—“
“Good?” Eddie asks with a laugh, tongue peeking out between his teeth as he grins, “It’s fine—make all the noises you want, I wasn’t really holding back earlier either.”
“Okay.” You reply quietly, your fingers dragging over your clit testingly, fingers slick with saliva, creating an intense, breathtaking sensation as you fall into an easy pace, Eddie’s fingers matching that rhythm.
The sound of your own wetness as Eddie’s fingers move within you is enough to make your body go hot with need and embarrassment, feeling his finger curls against the soft, sponge nub inside of you.
“You hear that?” Eddie teases, “That’s all you.” His finger crooks again, pulling a broken whine from your throat, body curling forward slightly at the sensation. “There she is.”
You laugh softly at his choice of words, feeling less intimidated that Eddie could make light of such a situation, having just as much fun as you were.
“Another one,” You tell him steadily, stopping momentarily to watch him push another finger inside, free hand resting against the curve of his wrist, feeling every movement as he worked his fingers inside of you, “fuck—that’s really nice.”
He smiles into the side of your head, face buried in your hair.
Your fingers pick up quickly, rubbing harsh and intense alongside his relentless fingers, pistoning inside of you with an objective, determined—Eddie couldn’t live with himself if he let you leave empty handed.
“Shit—okay, I feel it.” You tell him honestly and he feels it as you clench around his fingers, your breath picking up quickly, soft moans becoming more and more desperate and Eddie could feel himself being drunk on the sound. Eddie hears the sharp whine from the of your impending orgasm, his fingers pulling away quickly to spread your thighs open wider, having flagged slightly from your desperate movements, hips searching for relief.
“Keep going,” He encourages, gentle squeezes into the underside of your knee as he holds you open, “I know you can.”
And you’re not sure why his words help, but they do.
You gasp sharply, fingers swiping over your clit in desperate circles as you come, an intense sensation the rushes throughout your entire body, moaning wantonly through the euphoria. Eddie’s hand slips under your chin, pulling your face up to look at him—you can barely keep your eyes open, but he’s staring at you intensely, nodding and speaking unintelligible words that you’re thankful you can’t hear, knowing it would wreck you even further. It feels like you’re underwater, fingers finally slowing as Eddie releases you, hips aching at the relief of it.
“Holy fuck,” You curse, falling back against Eddie in exhaustion, throwing you both into a fit of unexpected giggles, “that’s—oh my god—“
“Sweetheart, that’s nothing.” Eddie assures you, devilish grin overcoming his features.
“You have to show me more.” You practically beg, face lightening up in joy, “Seriously.”
Eddie’s never agreed to something faster.
From that point on, it’s a dangerous game that you and Eddie fall into without any fear of how easily they could damage your friendship—but that’s where the trust in each other lies, you’ve never been more open and comfortable with someone than Eddie, aside from Steve—but those were completely different situations.
And what starts as innocent lessons in sex and teaching you what and how things should feel, according to Eddie’s expansive experience, quickly turns into mindless and self indulgent pleasure—and no one’s ever gone down on you until Eddie. Ever.
It quickly turns into one of his favorite things—and after his bad days and streams that put him into a bad mood, he’ll bury himself between your legs and devour you until you’re panting his name, gripping his sheets so hard they might rip.
Eddie initially thinks you’ll be disgusted by the idea of him being with other people from time to time, but it never really crosses your mind as odd—you normally sit in on his sessions now, when you’re not busy doing your own thing, but you usually opt out of watching his streams with others—even when explicitly invited, not that any of his friends cared.
Steve jokes about it once and you can’t believe it.
“It was only a matter of time,” Steve tells you both, having sensed the change in energy weeks ago, but only bringing the knowledge to your attention now. You and Eddie were still very much friends, just with the extra benefits, “—hey, the audience is always talking about how we should add a third—“
“Absolutely not.” You reply quickly, drowning out Eddie’s similar protests. “I’d rather watch you two fuck each other, and that’s already enough to melt my brain.”
“Hey, you gotta give Steve some credit,” Eddie defends playfully, “he’s a great bottom.”
You snort loudly, watching the betrayal cross Steve’s face.
“And you’re a selfish top.” Steve snarls back, kicking his feet up on the table.
You suddenly remember Eddie’s similar answer to the idea of a threesome, curious of why he agreed so quickly.
“Wait—why did you say no?” You ask.
“I didn’t think you’d want to be on camera.” Eddie replies—it’s a logical answer, but not nearly in the realm of being correct. You could care less, it was just a lack of opportunity and genuine want to do it—if served the right circumstance, you might—but a threesome with those two, it sounded like your worst nightmare. “Plus, you treat Steve’s dick like it’s a disease so I used context clues.”
That and he really didn’t feel like sharing.
“Steve never told you, did he?” You ask with a weak laughs, glancing over toward Steve. “He doesn’t know?”
Steve shrugs, earning a pillow to the face from you.
“What?” Eddie presses.
“I was Steve’s gay awakening.” You admit, “It was literally that bad.”
It did stunt your sex drive for a while, but you didn’t blame Steve—you had enough problems to work through, but Eddie had been a big help to change that.
“Hey, I love you, though.” Steve tells you earnestly, meaning every word. “I’m glad it was you rather than some horrible interaction with someone I barely knew.”
“And look at me now,” You arms thrown up dramatically, “I’m literally surrounded by sex, everyday—it’s really is my destiny, I think.”
It’s a horrible joke, but it was your current reality. You yank Eddie into the privacy of your room soon after, falling onto his lap with ease, feeling the hard outline of his cock through his thin pajamas pants, earning a subtle eyebrow raise from you.
“Sorry,” He apologizes, “I didn’t stream today and we’ve been around each other, I can’t help it.”
You smile at his raw honesty, grinding down against him pointedly.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish.” He teases, gripping tightly at your hips.
You two still hadn’t crossed the threshold of sex just yet—you hadn’t even had his dick in your mouth, but you’ve seen it plenty of times thus far, just never in the context of when he was doing things with you, the pleasure being so focused on you that he never even took the time to care for himself, besides, he was getting enough fulfillment in the acts he did for money—at least that’s what you always assumed. So, when he finally asks you that question, you’re not sure how to respond.
“You,” You shove a gentle finger at his chest, before turning to point to yourself, “want me, to have sex with you—on your stream?”
Eddie nods with assurance, the fingers gripping your thigh digging in slightly, grinding you against him teasingly.
“Why?”
It wasn’t a simple question, or even a simple answer, but Eddie tried to explain his reasoning as best he could.
“People get tired of the same thing,” Eddie says, “not that I’m trying to use your for content, it’s like when I do stuff with Steve, a lot it’s just for fun with a little technicality mixed in—we obviously plan some stuff out but for the most part it’s just improv.”
“Yeah—but we don’t do that stuff,” You say pointedly, “are you trying to suggest that the first time you want to fuck me is on camera?”
“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” Eddie tells you, you stop his movements with a hand on his chest, eyeing him down, “we could play it up, obviously.”
You make a face, feeling slightly confused.
Eddie laughs, taking a moment to find the best way to express what he’s trying to say. “Like, we do scenarios sometimes—so since it’s your first time, maybe—“
“You want people to think I’m a virgin.” You deduce.
“Yeah—I mean, they won’t know, but people love that shit.”
“And what am I getting out of this?” You ask timidly, other than the idea of mind-blowing sex with your bestfriend—you had no doubt Eddie was capable of whatever he needed to do to make it all worth watching and taking part in.
“Half profit of whatever we make,” Eddie says, “and, I’ll take you that really nice place over on the west end that you’ve been talking about.”
“But, the place costs a fortune.” You protest but Eddie shakes his head vehemently. “Are you sure?”
“I actually expected you to say no,” Eddie laughs, “was that all it took?”
You shrug indifferently, “I’m easy to please—besides, I’m curious.”
“Oh, you’re gonna love it.” Eddie smirks salaciously, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you down over him, burying his face into the front of your chest, forcing a squeaky laugh from your chest.
“You can stop fidgeting.” Eddie laughs, throwing a few random items on his bed; some lube, a condom, and a small piece of fabric that you can only assume is a mask. You grab it, holding it up without question. “Oh—for anonymity, if you want.”
“I don’t care,” You reply, tossing the material to the side, your fingers sift over the other items, grabbing the foil package, “—we talked about this, Eddie.”
“I have multiple partners in a month,” Eddie says, “I don’t want you feeling like your health might be compromised—“
“You get tested every two weeks, don’t you?” You ask, trying to reaffirm what he’d told you days earlier. “And I’m on birth control—Eddie, I thought we figured this out.”
Eddie leans his hands against the mattress, shoulders flexing with the movement as his necklace jostles against his chest.
He sighs deeply, “I know—but when the camera goes on I can’t really switch out of it until after, and even that takes a minute, I just want you to feel comfortable.”
Your finger loops into the chain of his necklace, pulling close enough that your noses touch, his hands scrambling to hold himself up.
“I can handle it.” You tell him steadily, eyes locked on his own.
He nods, swallowing audibly. “Uh—well, consider this me apologizing in advance for anything I say.”
You laugh softly, “I think I can handle it.”
And it was a total lie, but he didn’t need to know that.
When the camera turns out, Eddie switches into it easily, your gaze downtrodden and avoiding the lens, terrified to make eye contact with any of the messages in his chat. Eddie’s already naked for the most part, sans his loose sweatpants that weren’t leaving much to imagination, his cock swaying freely beneath the fabric. He leans into the camera, the viewers flooding in by the masses.
“I know, I know,” Eddie soothes the viewers, “you’re probably wondering what’s going on—I’ll explain, but my friend here, she’s a little shy.”
He reaches behind himself, rubbing a comforting hand along your thigh, eyes connecting for a brief moment.
“She’s never been on camera before,” He smiles, glancing back at the screen, “but she’s also never been fucked before.”
There’s a flurry of messages that even Eddie can’t keep up with, “Crazy, right? And she’s bestowed that honor upon me to rectify that situation—and you all get to be a part of it.”
He’s eating it up, you can tell, taking a moment to turn away from the camera to laugh quietly, trying your best to keep it together.
“So, be nice,” He warns, “and make sure to leave some very kind words and tips on her behalf.”
There’s a moment where he cuts his camera off, transitioning it to a brief pause screen, giving him the chance to move around the room freely, coming to kneel on the bed in front of you. His fingers tip under your chin, eyes softening at the sight of him.
“You ready?” He asks softly.
“Mhmm.” You hum, offering him a shy smile.
Kissing Eddie isn’t as weird as you anticipate it to be—it’s lips against lips, wet and sloppy, but it’s still better than anything you’ve experienced so far. Eddie kisses with enthusiasm and wandering hands—the screen switches over out of the corner of your eyes before you realize that Eddie’s holding a small remote in his hand, likely to control the different cameras he had set up, before placing it on the blanket beside you both, hidden from view.
Eddie pulls back slightly, letting you chase his lips eagerly. He leans back further, just out of reach, before dragging the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip, letting out a deep chuckle.
“Look at her,” He speaks to the audience, “so fuckin’ needy.”
And you get it now—he was enticing to watch, off camera and on, but being a willing participant to it, it was the type of thrill you never imagined being able to feel.
“Want that pretty mouth around my cock,” He admits, thumb rubbing at your bottom lip, “what do you think, sweetheart?”
“Please,” You speak softly, feigning a sort of innocence that Eddie knew was mostly for show, but it still sent a twinge of pleasure straight to his dick, “can I?”
Your hand reaches up tentatively, rubbing his hardened cock over his pants, not entirely new to you, but knowing that things would escalate from here had a surge of confidence running through your body.
His hands squeeze at your jaw, forcing your mouth open slightly. “I’m not sure if you can fit all of it, but we’ll try.” He comments, earning a subtle eye roll from you. He reaches his hands under his sweatpants, shifting them down far enough that he can pull his dick out, the waistband settled snug under the curve of his ass, his hand palming at himself sparingly. “Open.” He instructs, guiding you up by your jaw onto your knees until your ass is resting on your calves, legs spread wide for show, your hands settling on his upper thighs from where he’s towering over you on his own knees.
Dick’s aren’t supposed to be pretty—they weren’t usually and you’ve seen your fair share, but there was something about Eddie’s. It could’ve been the contrasting black ink of the tattoo etched into the skin right about his groin, highlighting his assets in an unconventional way, or just the confidence that oozed from him in sexual situations. Either way, your eyes were drawn to his cock, his thumb rubbing over the slit at the tip of his dick, milky drop of precome smearing over his fingers, shining in the overexposure of his lights.
“Wider,” He instructs, your tongue lolling out slightly, “good girl.”
Your eyes flutter shut at the word and Eddie realizes he might’ve hit the motherload, shoving that away for later.
He taps the tip against your tongue, ruddy and wet, pulling at the length of his shaft slowly. “Lick it, sweetheart.” He smiles, “Get it real wet.”
Your tongue drags along the underside testingly, circling his tip with hesitancy. You’ve given enough blowjobs to know the basics, but it’s never felt so magnified, knowing so many people were watching. And Eddie’s not sure what to expect either, but he’s more than hopeful.
Your mouth waters at the prospect, gathering enough saliva to spit out over his dick before your hand comes up to replace his own, spreading it all the way down. Eddie curses, arms outstretched lazily as he watches, keeping himself together well despite how insanely turned on he was. For a brief moment he thinks that this is a terrible idea, not sure how well he could keep himself together.
“Fuck, let’s see how deep we can go, okay?” He suggest, his dick breaching your parted lips, pushing into your mouth slowly, you breathe deeply through your nose, letting him push as deep as he wants—he’s budging against the back of your throat and there’s nothing, which surprises you—you feel like you should gag, but the actual feeling never happens. It’s a surprise to you both, your eyes widening in disbelief.
“Holy shit.” It’s an honest statement, you can hear it in his tone. “That’s right, sweetheart—love seeing you take my cock so well.” And maybe that is too, but you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it. Eddie pulls out slowly before plunging back in with a similar intensity, using your mouth for his own selfish need and feeding of your reactions, soft gasps for air, eyes tearing up as he picks up the pace, pulling back suddenly with your head grasped in his hands, one hand tucked snug under your chin while the other holds your hair back, gripped tightly in his fingers.
His breath is just as baited, staring down at your red, irritated lips—having been stretched uncomfortably and shiny with spit.
He pulls at you roughly, maneuvering you onto your knees until he could reach your face, pressing his lips to yours hungrily and using it as an opportunity to whisper to you quietly.
“You didn’t tell me you don’t have a gag reflex.” He says in a hushed tone, sounding slightly upset.
“I didn’t—I didn’t know, I swear.” You say defensively, his mouth sliding against yours in an effort to mask the conversation. “Eddie, I’m not lying.”
“No more surprises, please.” He begs with a soft laugh.
You nod slowly in understanding, letting Eddie avert the situation by asking a redundant question.
“Yeah? You want to give them a little show?” He asks with a sneaky smile, glancing over to the camera.
The tips had started flowing in instantly and Eddie hadn’t bothered to even look at any of it, too focused on the task at hand.
Eddie shifts on the bed until he’s positioned behind you, hands resting low on your waist—you’d put on some gaudy, expensive lingerie that Eddie had bought you for this particular occasion. It was white, intricate lace with sheer material doing nothing to cover you up—it was perfect for the situation but so far from your own taste, but for Eddie you swallowed that pride. It made up for it with the grin that covered his face when you walked out of his bathroom earlier that night.
Your face sucks away from the camera, eyeing Eddie’s hand as it flattens out over your stomach, dragging along the skin delicately. “Do you need help?” He asks sweetly, peering over your shoulder and up to the camera. You nod slightly, letting his hands roam the full expanse of your body, over your breasts, down your stomach again and cupping your cunt in the fullness of his hand, his fingers grazing against the obvious wetness that had pooled there—he wasn’t sure how well this was working at first, but that small bit of evidence affirms it for him. He grips slightly, fingers digging into the fabric near your entrance.
“Fuck,” He curses, the feeling causing you to gasp involuntarily, mouth dropping open in response, “are you gonna let me play with this pretty little pussy for everyone watching?”
You nod dumbly, rocking into his grip subtly.
“I’m not even sure you can’t take my fingers, sweetheart.” He lies, pushing the fabric with his fingers over your hole, your ass nudges against his still uncovered cock and he bites back a quiet groan, and you can assume that definitely isn’t for the camera. “Let’s take this off,” He suggests, fingers dragging along the curve of your breast, “show off those beautiful tits to everyone.”
Eddie pops the clasp easily, dragging the straps over your shoulders slowly until there’s nothing left for the material to snag into, falling from your chest and to the floor, round tits and soft buds that are squeezed between Eddie’s grip showing my, kneading the flesh until you’re keening into his touch, head falling back against his shoulder as his fingers pull at your nipple, rolling it gently between his fingers.
He can see the chat going wild, more and more generous donations flowing in by the second, he leans over to whisper into your ear, hands still working diligently.
“See?” Eddie points out, “They can’t get enough of it.”
You nod subtly, letting his hands drop for your breasts to slip into the front of your lace panties, fingers stretching against the fabric.
“You’re not so innocent, are you?” He asks teasingly. “Do you want to play with yourself while everyone watches?”
Again, you nod, letting Eddie manhandle you down gently toward the bed, a similar position to the first time he guided you to an orgasm.
“She’s pretty naughty, isn’t she?” He asks and it takes you a moment to realize he’s talking to his viewers rather than you. He pushes the thin fabric down your legs, dropping it to the floor lazily. “And naughty girls like the attention, don’t they?”
He glares down at you, his hands spreading over the inside of your thighs to hold you open, cunt on bare display for thousands to see.
“Show them how you touch yourself,” He instructed, “—how badly that pussy of yours is begging to be filled.”
Your fingers tease lightly, drifting over your clit with a severe lack of attention, two fingers dipping inside of you with ease.
You were rushing it on purpose, hoping Eddie would take over and make it all a little less embarrassing. He does, taking the opportunity to make a sly comment.
“Someone’s a little eager.” He laughs, chest rumbling at the motion.
“It’s not enough,” You pout dramatically, peering up at him with soft, half-lidded eyes. Eddie didn’t expect you to play your part so easily and so well, breaking his persona for half a second as he stared back at you, nodding deftly. “Can I have your fingers, please?”
“Since you asked so nicely,” He smiles softly, swatting your hand away gently to replace it, his larger hands able to cover more area, joining in with the other as he wastes little time, a large finger pressing inside as he circles your clit.
It’s the first genuine, unrestrained reaction you give all night—hands grasping at his forearms desperately, gasping sharply at the overwhelming pace he sets.
“We have to be sure I can fit, baby.” He coos and you feel your heart skip at the word, having never heard it fall from his lips until just now—it was addicting. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Eddie waits until you’re a moaning mess, hair mused over your face and cheeks hot from the action of bringing you to the brink so many times, cutting you just short of a glorious orgasm—he was holding it off for the finale, his dick straining just as hard from where it was tucked snug between you.
When the time finally does come, Eddie’s positioned you over his lap from where he’s resting on his heels, the stretch of his larger thighs enough to seat you comfortably. He’s got a loose hand around his cock, rubbing it against your core teasingly, sparing a few looks in your direction as his eyebrows pull together in concentration.
“First cock inside you and you’re letting me go in raw,” Eddie comments idly, more for the viewers sake than your own, “I’m honored, sweetheart.”
“Want it so bad, Eddie.” You plead, “I want you to be my first.”
Eddie very nearly breaks at that, turning his face to cover his full-faced laugh, and you’re feeling a little slighted at how easy it was for him to break with how hard you were trying to play up the idea that he initially came to you with—there were a million other creative directions he could’ve taken it but that was what he chose. You pinch him in the side briefly, controlling his facial expressions and focus back to something more appropriate.
You cant your hips up, the wetness of your cunt gliding over his dick until it clips your entrance, sinking down over him slowly with no warning. You gasp involuntarily—the stretch is real, nothing painful or out of the norm, but it’s been a while and you can’t deny the sting at being filled, satiating that urge you didn’t know you had. Eddie groans out brokenly, looking as wrecked as possible in the moment as he watches his dick disappear into you slowly, using the hold and momentum he had on you to force you to wait, moving his hips in small thrusts until you adjusted to his girth and size.
For a brief moment, you forget what all of this is actually for.
Eddie lifts you slightly, watching your face contorted in pleasure, the warmth of your inner walls like a vice around him.
“Oh fuck,” He comments through a huffed breath, “squeezing my cock like a good girl, aren’t you?”
“It’s so big,” You reply breathlessly, “you’re so—“
Eddie shushes you, the hand that’s not wrapped firmly around your waist rising to brush your hair away from your face, giving the watchers a clear view of your expression, eyes locked on the place where you two were joined together so intimately.
You expected it all to feel weird—and maybe the acting was a bit much, considering Eddie wasn’t nearly as raunchy outside of this, but you’ve never felt more comfortable with someone, and if you were to do something so risky with anyone in front of a mountain of people, you were glad it was him.
And you feel that ache deep in the pit of your stomach, the primal need for release, aiding Eddie in his movements to fuck yourself back against his dick, leaving him no choice but to let you take over—his legs give out and he’s scrambling until he’s seated on his ass, giving over full control to you as you rode him with fervor, hips bouncing eagerly on his cock until he’s nothing but an incoherent mess of praises. He’s never folded underneath someone so quick, distracted by his own building orgasm, the pressure building at the base of his dick.
“Fuck—I’m gonna come.” You warn, pressing your palms against his chest desperately, your movements less concise.
“You know the rule,” Eddie breathes out, voice shot, “ask nicely, sweetheart.”
You nod desperately, head thrown back in ecstasy as your mouth falls open on a soundless gasp. “Can I come? Please—need to come, fuck, I can’t—“
“Can I touch you?” Eddie whispers intimately, earning a subtle nod in return, forgetting everything but the desperation you felt. Eddie’s fingers only manage a few short, quick circles before you’re clenching down on him, coming with a strained moan as you ride out through the intensity of it—Eddie’s holding off, hand gripped tightly at the base.
“Fuck, good girl,” He says softly, “—can feel you dripping down my cock.”
You nod lazily, feeling Eddie tap at your thigh in an effort for you to move. You switch positions quickly, his face scrunched up in concentration as he kneeled over you, tapping at your face until your mouth fell open. It wasn’t something you initially discussed beforehand, figuring that he would probably just finish inside of you, knowing that’s what people really wanted.
But he couldn’t help himself, because it was what he wanted at that moment, his eyes pleading as you nodded in agreement. He rested the tip of his dick against your tongue as he tugged furiously, using his other hand to hold your mouth in waiting as he groaned loudly, coming over your tongue in long, forceful spurts, his eyes falling shut from the force that it hits him, jaw slack. He rubs tenderly at the joint of your own jaw, tugging at his dick until the feeling finally fades, the ache in his stomach slowly dissipating. You make a show of closing your mouth, swallowing the mouthful of come that sat on your tongue, finger dragging at the corner of your mouth where a small amount had started to dribble out, sucking unnecessarily on the finger until Eddie can’t help but look away, feeling oddly shy considering the situation.
Eddie finishes out the stream in his normal fashion, pulling his sweatpants over his waist lazily as you disappear offscreen after Eddie lands another open-mouthed kiss on you, tasting his own come as your tongue sneaks into his mouth without warning, chuckling softly at your antics.
Eddie discloses that he wouldn’t be doing any private shows afterwards, mostly because he was exhausted—but he also just didn’t feel like it, which was entirely normal for him, but he knew that aftercare was important. It happened with Steve occasionally, after a few rougher scenarios, and he couldn’t imagine leaving you alone after something like this. It also dawns on him that he really just wants to spend time with you.
Once everything is finished up, he peeks into the bathroom as you’re stepping out of his shower, towel wrapped tightly around your body, wet hair dripping on his tile floor.
“How was I?” You ask with a lilt to your voice, fishing for compliments—even though you knew you didn’t need to.
Eddie smiles warmly, coming up behind you, staring over your shoulder into the mirror—it was contagious, forcing you to smile too.
“You’re a natural.” He says honestly, his hand winding around your front to tip up under your chin, head tilted slightly to look at him from a more comfortable angle. “But, I never want to do that again.”
You open your mouth to argue, but Eddie interrupts quickly.
“I can’t hold it together with you like I can with others.” He admits, “I can disconnect from it, but you—it’s so hard.”
“Eddie,” You say softly, “are you trying to say that you have a crush on me?”
Eddie doesn’t answer, letting you go almost immediately, not willing to deal with your teasing so openly.
“You do,” You call after him, “—I want to hear you say it.”
“It doesn’t—“
You follow after him in nothing but your towel, shoving him against his bed weakly, his knees hit the edge and force him to sit.
“Say it.” You push, forcing your knee between his outstretched legs. “Or I’m not testing out my severe lack of gag reflex on you ever again.”
“Hey, that’s uncalled for.” Eddie protests petulantly, avoiding the teasing finger you point his way, his hand shoving yours away gently. “Fuck—fine, I like you. Why does it matter?”
“Because we could have been fucking this entire time. I thought I was just your little passion project—“ You tell him, laughing at the thought, “not that I cared—but I just figured you wanted to stay friends, that’s why I never crossed that line until you asked me.”
“You’re unbelievable.” He sighs, pulling at the underside of your thighs until you’re seated carefully in his lap, not caring that the water was probably soaking his cotton sweatpants.
“Are you forgetting who our mutual friend is?” You ask, “I’m not that bad, Eddie.”
“Close enough.” He smiles, earning a soft hand to the side of his face as you shoved him away and hopped off his lap, trodding away toward the bathroom again.
Eddie was enamored, with good reasoning, and he couldn’t help himself. He’s never done relationships or even half-assed sexual centric friendships, it was all very new to him. Still, he couldn’t help but want everything you had to offer and give everything he had in return.
There’s a few pings from the bathroom, your phone nearly vibrating off the counter.
“Hey,” Your voice carries, earning a soft “Huh?” in response.
“You should probably call Steve—I didn’t really tell him we were doing this.” You say quickly, hoping that Eddie could be the one to break the news. “He’s probably losing his shit.”
And surely enough, the rest of the night was spent shoved together on the couch of your apartment, listening to Steve ramble on about how betrayed he felt.
“A word of warning would’ve been nice—I’m just trying to support a friend and then I see one best friend fucking my other best friend—I can’t unsee that.”
“So you watched the whole thing?” Eddie asks with a chuckle he can’t force down, glancing over at your horrified expression.
Steve shrugs, “Yeah—it wasn’t horrible.”
“Oh, fuck off.” You retort, “You’re just jealous that people liked me more than you.”
“Not even close.” Steve lies horribly.
Eddie watches you two with amusement, head switching back and forth between your endless banter.
“Well, it’s not happening again so you have nothing to worry about—people still love you.” Eddie defends, earning a supportive nod from you.
Steve smirks, “Yeah—that’s what they all say.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Steve shrugs without answering—he knew you both well enough, and despite Eddie’s protest about keeping real connections offline, it was a damn good marketing idea.
“I give her three months,” Steve says, elbowing Eddie in the rib, “You—one, maybe two.”
It didn’t matter what you two thought—Steve knew there was some truth to it and it was only a matter of time.
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#camboy!eddie#my writing#1kfic#5kfic
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okok hear me out. eddie x reader literally despise each other, for no particular reason. reader just thinks he’s gross and weird. eddie thinks reader is stuck up and prissy. BUT one day reader walks into the dnd room on accident. eddies the only one in there, setting up for the new campaign ofc. and they just get into a really heated argument that ends up w reader bent over the dnd table w eddie pounding into her from behind.… PLS IM BEGGING I LIVE FOR A GOOD HATE FUCK
author’s note: this is all over the place i’m sorry lol, i can’t write hate fucks for the life of me but i tried.
cw: 18+ (minors dni) mean!eddie, mean!reader, slight perv!eddie, just a lot of harsh shit talking between eddie/reader, degrading language/shaming, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, again just straight smut and not the sweet kind, if i missed anything lmk
word count: 3.4k
Eddie Munson was the bane of your existence, that’s one thing you knew for sure. Some of it was intentional, some of it not—but he got under your skin in the worst way. It wasn’t his obnoxious volume or ridiculous acts of show, throwing himself around in a way that was meant for amusement, drawing a few laughs from his friends and even a couple strangers—but most of it wasn’t received well and definitely not by you.
The thing was, you didn’t hate him for the same reason everyone else did. He dressed differently, sure, listened to the kind of music that has you covering your eyes from the harsh percussion and scratchy, screaming voices—but that’s because it woke you in the middle of the night, your own trailer rattling from the vibrations. The smell and smoke of his weed wafting into your open bedroom window, white cloud bellowing into the humid air of your room, it was a nightly occurrence.
There was also the misfortune of having to listen to his escapades, whether daily or nightly, and having to suffer through the sounds of whoever Eddie decided to hook up with on that particular day—the walls of your trailer were entirely too thin and did nothing to muffle the sounds shrieking from your neighbors home. But, at least he had enough respect to do it while Wayne was away—because while Eddie was the most annoying part of your daily life, Wayne was one of the better ones.
He greeted you kindly, always asked how you were—meanwhile Eddie would lazily stomp along to their trash bin, shirtless and a half-smoked cigarette tucked behind his ear, staring you directly in the eye before spitting on the pavement. Wayne always reprimanded him for it, complained about how disrespectful it was, but Eddie knew it got under your skin. It’s exactly why he did it.
He snickered at your starch ironed skirts, pleats along the front and always the softest shade of pinks and blues and purples, fitting an even softer sweater over your starkly white button ups—and if he wasn’t commenting on it as you were leaving your trailer, cigarette shoved between his lips as he leaned against his van, it was in the hallways as he approached behind you swiftly, your body smacking into him amongst the hoard of people swarming the halls.
“Might want to watch where you walk, sweetheart .” He whispers, voice low and in your ear, “Get too close to the trash and you might get dirty, right?”
You shove him away haphazardly, nose scrunching up in annoyance. You couldn’t remember speaking more than five words to him at any given time, regardless of how often you saw him. It was physically painful to be in his presence, mentally exhausting, and you shoved a forceful middle finger his way as he laughed at the gesture, throwing them back as a double.
And it felt like fate was forcing you two together despite your obvious distaste for one another; running into each other during bathroom breaks from class like they were planned, both of you sharing an awkward look in return, eyes lingering on one another.
It had to be the disgust you felt, there was no reason your eyes should stay stuck that long.
Or how he always ended up behind you in line at lunch even though he rarely ate—sometimes a couple of measly snacks, a pack of almonds or a small water bottle, mostly too enveloped in his own conversation to remember that he needed to eat until it was already too late, bell signaling you back to class.
You didn’t know that because you watched him at lunch, that was the case at all. Definitely not.
But the truth was, you weren’t much different from Eddie. In fact, if you thought about, Eddie was a lot better off than you. He had a group of friends, a community he felt safe participating in, and no shame in the way he carried himself.
But you, you were terrified—never a hair out of place, never a wrinkle in your outfit, and how dare your grades dropped lower than a B. You were jealous of Eddie, but that wasn’t something you could easily admit to his face. You envied his ability to be so careless, but in that same breath, you absolutely hated him.
You’ve also involved yourself in too many school clubs at this point, overwhelming your schedule and spending most of your days frazzled trying to keep up—so by the end of the day when you’re running back to the classroom to grab your things before heading home, it’s not a surprise that you don’t realize the flooring as you skid to a stop—the room was low lit, some song you don’t recognize set for quiet ambience and you freeze, eyes connecting with the only person in the room.
“Can’t stay away, can you?” Eddie teases, head turned up slightly, vivacious grin plastered on his face.
“My mistake,” You interrupt him, turning on your heels swiftly to flee the space, a small chuckle escaping Eddie’s chest, “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Clearly,” He remarks, plucking the small figurines from the table and shoving them away in a box, carefully piling the other items inside, “but if you wanted to see me that bad, you could’ve just said so.”
And as much as you want to keep quiet, act like he doesn’t bother you—you can’t. It’s the one last bridge he hasn’t burned, until now. The teasing has only ever gone so far, mostly harmless, but his voice is edged with a dangerous intent—not so much toward you, but it lingers.
“Excuse you?” You ask tensely, turning back around, face pinched up in anger. “See you? Why would anyone want to spend more than five minutes around you?”
“You tell me,” He shrugs, finally managing to clear the table amongst your hatred filled gaze, resting his rear against the edge, arms crossed heavily over his chest, “you’re the one still standing there.”
“I tolerate you, at the very least.” You spit at him, finger held up scrutinizingly as you took a few slow steps toward him, “your horrible manners, the decency and respect you lack for others—if it weren’t for having known Wayne I could blame it on your family for raising you that way, but no. It’s all you.”
“Careful, princess,” He replies teasingly, “words hurt.”
The nickname always drove you mad, fist clenching in frustration.
“Good.” You say forcefully, know only a few inches from him—he smelt like cheap tobacco and old leather, nostrils flaring in disgust. “Maybe you’ll think twice before watching me change from your bedroom window—“
Eddie’s eyes widen, face paling at your admission.
“Yeah,” You reply knowingly, nodding your head as a taunt, “I know all about your little secrets, Eddie.”
But instead of giving in, Eddie doubles down and fights back just as hard.
“At least I don’t have a stick shoved up my ass,” He replies, “I guess mommy doesn’t know you’re blowing guys behind your trailer late at night—does she?”
And frankly, it’s none of his business. But then again, the same thing could be applied to you. There was too much shared anger, shuffling back and forth between hate and jealousy—you weren’t sure if you actually hated Eddie, or just the idea of him.
At face value, Eddie was attractive, likable, and had the calmest demeanor you’ve ever seen—but the moment his mouth opened, it was ruined.
“It’s no different from you fucking girls with your window wide open—half the neighborhood could hear it.”
“Oh, so you listen?” Eddie asks, disregarding the obvious problem. “Naughty.” He remarks softly, smirk settling into a dark grin.
You roll your eyes in annoyance, dropping your finger down at your side. “It’s kinda hard not to, you know?”
Eddie shrugs nonchalantly.
“And what about you?” You ask, “Doesn’t that make you a creep when you’re watching me?”
“I go out for a smoke around midnight every night,” Eddie reminds you, “It’s not my problem if you’re there—I’m not changing my routine for you.”
“So, you’re okay with peeping?” You ask redundantly, but Eddie has a response anyways.
“You’re the one sucking cock in public,” Eddie reminds, “are you forgetting that’s technically illegal?”
You shrink back slightly, lips turning down in a frown as you glare at him. “No one’s out there—at least no one but—“
“You like it, don’t you?” Eddie asks, lids shifting down, eyes lingering with darkness. “You could go anywhere—a car, in the woods—but you like the idea of being watched, being caught, don’t you?”
Your silence is telling—but you didn’t have to explain yourself to him.
Eddie hums in response, nodding.
“I think you’re doing it so I’ll watch,” Eddie tells you, like he’s suddenly got you all figured out—and so what if he did, “at least I can admit I do it for fun, knowing half of those guys won’t last more than a few minutes.”
“You’re disgusting.” You reply quietly, watching as he rises slowly, stalking toward you. “And a fucking dick.”
“Oh, sweetheart—don’t go soft on me now.” Eddie chides, “Tell me how you really feel.”
There’s a beat of silence, eyes never leaving each other's gaze. Eddie speaks first.
“And don’t act like I don’t know you like listening to me,” Eddie admits, “Why do you think I get so loud?”
“Because you’re obnoxious,” You start, “and rude, and—“
“Three nights ago, Friday, you remember?” Eddie asks curiously, stalling your attack.
“Yeah?” You reply wearily, wondering where he was taking this. “I saw that girl you let inside—you fucked her, do you want a ribbon?”
“What girl?” Eddie asked before it dawns on him, “Oh shit—Chrissy, yeah.”
You raise an eyebrow inquisitively, waiting for him to finish.
“She left five minutes after she got there—in, out. It was a quick deal.” Eddie tells you, before leaning toward you menacingly, face only a few inches away, “But sweetheart, that noise? It was all me.”
The heat rises to your face in an instant, the guilt in your expression obvious.
His tongue peeks out slightly, running along the top row of teeth, “It was good, wasn’t it?”
Your gaze is fierce, refusing to give in to his game.
Eddie takes another step closer, raising his arm—for a brief moment you expect him to touch you, bracing to grip his wrist and shove him away, but it lingers, finger pointing toward the open door as he talks to you petulantly, instructing you through his next few moves.
“Now—I’m going to close that door,” Eddie explains, “do you want to leave?”
You hesitate for a brief second, before shaking your head slightly. If Eddie wasn’t watching you so intently he probably would’ve missed it.
“And, with your blessing of course, I’m going to bend you over that table and fuck you how I know you want me to,” Eddie says haughtily, tipping your chin up briefly, touch disappearing as quickly as you felt it, “then maybe you won’t have a reason to hate me so much.”
“I’m going to hate you regardless.” You answer weakly, confirming his suspicions. You couldn’t say no. You wanted this.
“Somehow I think I’ll survive.” Eddie smirks, vanishing behind you quickly, leaving you stuck at a standstill, heart pounding in your chest. “Last chance to back out, just say the word—“
“Lock it.” You tell him firmly.
Eddie snorts softly, flipping the lock closed.
Eddie doesn’t hesitate in his movements, shoving you harshly over the edge of the table, lifting your skirt up lazily, slipping the soft white cotton of your underwear down your legs without a word, the light jingling of his belt behind you as he stripped himself of it, working himself out of his jeans enough that his cock springs free, bouncing upright into the cool air.
“What’s got you so quiet?” Eddie harps, fisting his hand into the end of your hair and tugging, eyes connecting with your own—it was an awkward angle and Eddie was slightly upside down from where you were peering back, hip held tight in his grip. “I thought I’d at least have to get my dick inside you first.”
You shove away his wandering hands, fingers drifting over your entrance and pressing against your clit, thick juices coating his fingers briefly.
“I didn’t say you get to touch me like that.” You tell him sternly, “If you’re so desperate to fuck me, then do it. Stop wasting my time.”
“Your time?” Eddie repeats, “Princess, I’ll make this last an eternity with that mouth.”
“You don’t scare me, Eddie Munson.” You say to prove a point, holding in a ragged gasp as he presses inside slowly, a dull sting as he stretches you open, inch by tantalizing inch.
Eddie wraps a gentle hand around your throat, squeezing the tiniest amount of pressure. He’s testing your limits, already well aware of what you like—he may not be the brightest, but he’s not that dim. “I’m not trying to scare you.”
“Then?” A sudden thrust of his hips has you tumbling forward, hands forced out in front of you to keep from slipping. Eddie pulls you back up swiftly, back flat against his chest as he speaks, leaving you fully under his control, hands instinctively grabbing at the fabric of his shirt on either side of him.
“I’m just giving you what you want,” Eddie explains, “and letting you walk home full of me—“ He turns your head slightly, forcing you to look at him, bottom lip puffy and parted as he drags his finger along it, “you want me to come inside you, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have let me get this far.”
No response has Eddie tugging at your face, pulling you even straight, hand pressed firmly around your neck—mostly just to keep you in place.
“Answer me.” He warns, “Tell me how badly you want me to fill you so fuckin’ full, sweetheart.”
You moan embarrassingly loud as he pulls his hips back before shoving them against your backside harshly, skin slapping against skin, his own mouth parting on a silent groan as he stared down at you.
“If it will shut you up, yeah.” You tell him, earning a deep chuckle before you soften your eyes, peering up at him sweetly, sickeningly, “Come inside me.”
Eddie releases you with no warning, forcing you back down against the hardwood, resuming your previous position as you used the leverage to push back against him, creating a pace that was almost unbearable, feeling the soft string as he slapped his hands against your skin—your ass, your thighs, any exposed skin he could get his hands on, painting you with temporary marks for his eyes only—he’d make them more permanent if you let him, but that was far from possible.
Your blood still boiled in his presence, even with his cock buried inside of you.
You groan in frustration, agitated with the position, the lack of technique—but given you two were at each other like animals, it wasn’t entirely his fault—regardless, you weren’t going to leave without some satisfaction or at the very least, an orgasm.
“Stop, stop,” You urge him and Eddie doesn’t question it, letting you go immediately, “it’s not—“
“What—it’s not what?” Eddie asks with minor frustration, watching as you turned to him, scooting your ass up toward the edge of the table.
“As much as I hate looking at you, this might be the easiest way for me to cum,” You admit and Eddie smiles softly, the urge to retort a sly remark creeping up on him, “—what, why are you looking at me like that?”
Eddie shakes his head, refusing to answer before he pulls your hips flush, slipping back inside of you with ease as he crowds you space, lips brushing your own but never daring to reach out and kiss, you let out a sudden huff of air, reaching for his forearms to stabilize yourself.
“Tell me how much you hate me.” Eddie eggs you on, grinning evilly, hands balled into fists as he pressed them against the tabletop, fucking you achingly slow.
“So much,” You assure him, not missing a beat, “you’re gross, rude,” Eddie moves his hips sharply, forcing a wrecked moan from your lips, “fuck—you’re so fucking annoying.”
“Uh huh.” He agrees, eyebrow furrowing as his stone faced expression falters slightly, “Is that all?”
“No manners,” You tell him, “and no respect for anyone.”
“Oh, you want respect?” Eddie gloated, “You want me to respect you?”
“Never said that.” You reply bluntly, his shirt in a vice grip as you yanked at the material, pulling him impossibly deeper.
He ignores you, “Now, why should I respect a whore like you?”
“I’m not a whore.” You pout slightly, “Oh, fuck—that’s—“
You slump slightly, but Eddie catches you, face tight in his grip, one hand pressed into the dip in your back.
“Say it like you mean it.” Eddie challenges.
“I’m not—“ Eddie tugs your face up, cheeks squeezed between his fingers, “not—not a whore. Or a slut. Or whatever the fuck you want to call me.”
Eddie nods, not believing a word you tell him.
“I forgot—you’re that stuck up little princess who lives next door to me. Perfect life, perfect family—if they only knew the shit you got up to.” Eddie says menacingly, “Letting the neighborhood trash fuck you raw, come inside you—god forbid I knock you up, right?”
And the idea is terrifying, but you know it’s all talk. You had nothing to worry about, birth control be damned—but it leaves a pit in your stomach that lingers. Eddie was self aware, he knew people hated him, knew you hated him—but that didn’t change his unnatural attraction toward you, nor yours for him.
“Eddie—Shut. Up.” You emphasize, pulling him tight against you, cunt clenching around him as he hits a dangerous spot inside you, sweet but alarming.
“Well, maybe you’ll think twice about walking in here again.” He replies snidely, his faltering slightly as he lessened his grip on your face, touch stalling at the side of your neck as gave in, letting the sounds of your bodies fill the silence, hearing every soft little moan he punches out of you with his movements, becoming addicted and yearning for more. His hands move without any real direction, landing sloppily over your clit as he circled it lazily, head hung back and eyes closed.
“Fuck—Fuck you.” You sigh, whimpering quietly as his movements over your clit increased, mouth falling open wide.
The slap is a surprise, soft but enough to startle you, eyes staring up at him in shock. And you hated yourself for enjoying it so much, but the knowing smile on his face is too good to be true, and your mouth is moving without filtering through your brain.
“Harder.” You counter, eyes darkening as you challenge him.
He slaps you once more, forceful, noise crackling through the air. You huff a soft laugh, causing him to laugh in response—and truthfully, you both forget how this even started in the first place. It was all just an outlet for your own shared anger and it turned into a giant mess.
“Girls don’t—they don’t usually—“ Eddie doesn’t admit it outright, breath quickening as he attempts to speak through his unskilled thrusts, groaning loudly, “—they don’t like that.”
“Now Eddie,” You tell him, voice delicate, “I’m not most girls.”
But, he already knew that. You were nothing like the girls he was used to. You were everything he wanted but couldn’t have. You were a disease, a disgrace—in his eyes, and it made him want you that much more.
The climax hits you heavy, a gasp ripping from your chest as he tips you over that peak, following suit with one hard thrust, coming deep inside you until he can’t handle the stimulation any longer, pulling out with a weak groan.
The air is thick and tense, but Eddie helps you up carefully, slipping your underwear back into your palm. You stare at the fabric, balling it up in your hands briefly before making a sudden decision, reaching for his own hand and shoving them back at him, his pants still hanging unbuttoned around his waist.
“Keep them.” You shrug, smoothing out your skirt.
Eddie eyes you suspiciously, but pockets them nonetheless.
“This is never happening again, just so we’re clear.” You clarify. Eddie chuckles, not so sure. He can see the way your eyes linger on him, not fully believing yourself as you speak.
“I’m offended that you think I care that much, sweetheart.” Eddie replies back just as meanly, also lying to himself.
“Close your goddamn window from now on.”
“Not a chance.” Eddie smirks.
Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson blurb#my writing#1kfic
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rentals & records ✧ ˚ · . eddie munson x fem!reader.
summary: eddie can't hide the fact that he's sort of obsessed with you, but you can't deny that you might be secretly obsessed with him too.
cw: 18+ content (minors, shoo!), fem!reader, oral sex (f&m receiving), soft sex, virgin!eddie
word count: 11.4k. someone shut me up pls.
request are always open!
“I really need to know who rents this thing out so much that the entire cover is starting to fall apart.” Steve’s holding up a horrible worn out version of a Cheech & Chong movie you can’t decipher the title of. You squint, hard. It was pretty faded, pun absolutely intended. Reefer Rick was still in prison, so that counted him out immediately—there could be only one other culprit.
The familiar clang of the entrance bell startled you half to death, sending you whipping around to look behind you.
“Harrington! How’s it been?” Eddie Munson, of course.
“Eddie.” Steve nods in greeting, sounding exhausted already. You kick him in the shin, eyes sending him a look of warning when he yelps in pain. “What brings you in?”
You three already knew the answer to that question. It was you. Eddie had used every reason under the sun to find a way to come visit you while you were working. It was kind of endearing, you couldn’t lie. But, Eddie was a friend. He had always been just a friend.
“Just returning a rental.” Eddie replies, waving the VHS above his head.
“I’ve got it.” You assure Steve, who couldn’t be bothered to leave the mess of already disorganized rentals he had to sort through. You couldn’t tell if it was the girl trouble—or lack thereof, that Steve was having that was causing him to be in such a slump, or the general lack of disinterest in his job.
“Eddie.” Your voice is dripping with sweetness, fingertips dragging along the counter as you scoot in behind the front desk. “Just returning?”
“Might take a quick look around, if you don’t mind.” He tells you, hands shoved into his front pockets. “Unless you’ve got some suggestions, princess?”
You let out a soft ‘hmph’, shaking your head at the nickname he had come up with. It started sophomore year of high school, a shitty jab at how prissy you acted—a lot of that was part of hanging around with the wrong crowd. But, now you had Steve—you balanced each other out pretty well. The word felt different coming from his mouth now, a lot less bite behind it. You had always been friends, but never close enough that you spent time with him outside of school or sat with him at lunch, to busy with the swarm of girls that flocked around each other, you being suck right into the center of it all. That didn't stop the dizzying feeling you felt every time he set his eyes on you.
“I’m fresh out.” You assure him with a playful smirk, you hesitantly point in Steve’s direction. “But, we just got one of your favorites back in, if you wanna rent it out.”
“My favorite?” He teases, curling a stray strand of hand around his finger. It was almost criminal how beautiful his hair was, never a piece out of place, a true work of art. “You keepin’ tabs on me?”
“It’s in the system, Eddie.” It was his most frequented rental and always came back reeking of weed—something you didn’t even know to be possible. “You’ve rented it out sixteen times.”
“Oh.” He deflated slightly—he seemed a little ashamed, maybe? You didn’t find it weird, not really—there’s no way you could admit how many times you’ve watched The Breakfast Club, something you would carry with you to the grave.
“Steve!” You shout, grabbing his attention. Your head nods in the direction of Eddie—and like Steve was a mind reader, tosses the rental in your direction. You catch it with ease, tossing it on the counter. A stoner’s favorite, that was for sure.
“You rent these out to high school students?” Eddie asks from an obscure corner of the store—“Robocock. Huh, that’s fucking hilarious.”
Steve’s at a loss for words, glancing at you from his hiding spot, surfing through his ever growing pile. You stifle that laugh that comes out at the sight of his horrified face. You didn’t understand why Steve looked so scandalized when you knew he snuck out the adult film rentals on a regular basis. He just wasn’t as sneaky as he thought he was.
“You’re twenty, Eddie.” You remind him, “Not seventeen.”
He shrugs, tossing it back on the shelf. “Got any new releases?”
You think for a moment, “No, not for the past few weeks. I guess you’ll just have to suffer through a few more rewatches of those ridiculous little stoner movies you like.”
“Hey, not ridiculous.” His ringed finger is pointing in your direction, he’s slowly making his way back toward the cash register, glancing aimlessly down the aisle, eyes not really landing on anything in particular—except for you. “They’re a cinematic masterpiece.”
Entirely too unconvinced, you hold your hand out, waiting for him to slide over his ID. “You just gotta give ‘em a try, I swear.” He adds, setting the card in your hand gently.
He’s got the biggest grin on his face, which wasn’t out of the norm for him, but his eyes lingered on your for a little too long and that last thing you wanted to think was that it was meant entirely for you. Because no, absolutely not. You could not handle another boy wrecking your life, right now.
“No, Robocock?” You tease, the word sounds even more lewd than you had intended.
While you had never partaken in the content yourself, you were aware. You just couldn’t handle the cheesy lines and horrible faked situations that ended with someone getting pounded over an object that looked way too uncomfortable to be spread out over—they were a hard, hard no.
You clear your throat awkwardly, realizing how caught off guard Eddie looked—like you had insulted his all time favorite metal band and shit on his choice of music all in one go—you could never shit on Eddie’s music choice, not when you indulged in the same songs on a daily basis. But really, he was at a loss of words.
“Maybe next time.” He says slowly, trying to recover from whatever the fuck just happened.
“Sweet.” You drag out, attempting to input the rental information into the decrepit contraption in front of you, waiting for what felt like hours for it to finally rise from the dead. “And you’re good, here—“
“Are you busy this weekend?” Eddie asks suddenly, jarring you out of reality for a moment. His voice quieter, like he was hoping Steve wouldn’t be able to hear.
“Yeah, actually.” You tell him. It wasn’t an excuse, you were working a double shift to cover Steve’s ass because you were an amazing friend who cared about their well-being and ability to potentially help your friend get laid. “I have to work all weekend.”
“Oh—sounds like torture.” He jokes, tapping the VHS idly against the counter. He looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, and you hate how disappointed that makes you feel. “I guess I’ll be seeing you again this weekend then, princess.”
“Can’t wait.” You reply teasingly, causing Eddie to chuckle quietly in response. “God knows I’ll be boring myself to death all weekend.”
“I’ll be your knight in shining armor, no worries.” He adds, adjusting the front of his jacket, displaying the infamous Hellfire Club tee he dawned underneath.
“I’ll hold you to that.” You wiggle a finger at him, watching intently as he made a show of swinging a fake sword, walking backwards toward the door, not realizing that he was about to run smack into another customer.
“Hey, fuckin’ watch it, kid.” A much older man shouts, shoving past Eddie. You can’t help but laugh.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Your shift at Family Video on Saturday is entirely too uneventful, aside from the two underage kids who tried to sneak in and steal some of the content from the adult section, which then promptly ended in them being embarrassed by half of the store during one of the busier hours of the day. You shooed them away quickly and suffered through the rest of that god forsaken shift—boy, was that a story for Steve.
Thankfully, Sunday comes quickly and you’re shuffling out of your house at the speed of light, trying to make it before opening time to set up the store in peace.
“Don’t forget, sweetheart—I need you to cover the store for a few hours while I’m gone tonight.” Your dad spoke, stopping you at the front door. You nod your head fervently, assuring him that he had nothing to worry about.
“Gotcha, I’ll make sure to lock up everything, don’t worry.”
He was definitely going to remind you about ten more times.
He owned a small record store on the corner of downtown, right across from the frequently visited supermarket that almost the entire town went to. It was great for business, amazing in fact, always bringing back the old customers, but happily welcoming in the new ones. It was his prized possession and probably the only reason you leaned so heavily into loving music.
You spend an hour setting up shop at Family Video—wiping down counters, checking on any new stock, and finally settling down into a spot to sort through rentals that either needed to be thrown out or re-shelved. It was monotonous, but enough to keep you busy—busy enough that the store had already been open for at least a half hour, you not even bothering to flip on the neon sign that hung from the front window of the store.
“This might help.” The familiar voice says,, nearly scaring the life out of you. You grasp your chest in horror, falling ass first onto the floor. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”
“Jesus, Eddie—the fuck is wrong with you?” You ask, standing at full height, the top of your head barely reaching his nose. “You cannot sneak up on people like that.”
“I figured you heard me come in—plus, the doors were unlocked.” Fair point. Still, you were annoyed. “Really, you okay?”
“Yeah.” You huff, smoothing the dust off of your pants and adjusting the horrible, itchy work vest you wore. “Just, please—never do that again.”
“Cross my heart.” Eddie replies endearingly, hand pressed against his chest. He leans forward, noticing the small button on your vest that read ‘Ask me about Science Fiction!’, he flicks it amusingly.
“So, any good suggestions for me today?” He asks, “maybe something science fiction-y?” Eddie’s fishing for something, you’re just not sure what. You steal the previous rental from his hands, placing it on the counter.
“I would suggest Star Wars, but I think that’s an obvious one—you’ve probably already seen it.” You travel down the row, Eddie not very far behind.
“I haven’t.”
Your mouth practically drops to the floor in shock—of course Eddie hadn’t seen it, this man knew of three things—weed, heavy rock music, and more weed.
“What? Is that bad?” His eyebrow is quirked up inquisitively, bracing both hands against the top of surrounding rows.
“It’s a fucking crime, Eddie.” You slap the rental into his chest, grabbing his hand to force it into his hold and out of yours.
He’s laughing, turning on his heels to follow you obediently. Truly, he just hadn’t found the time to actually sit down and enjoy it, it wasn’t entirely his fault.
“So, Star Wars—check.” He lists off, “Anything else?”
“You should probably start off slow.” You suggest coyly, patting his arm. “No need to over indulge, then you won’t be able to put them down.”
That was his problem exactly. He’d overindulged into you and now—he just couldn’t quit, he had to know everything. Likes, dislikes, why you always came to school with such a sour puss look on your face, or why you always ate lunch in your car instead of inside the cafeteria—why you always made sure to bump into him in the hallway just to find a reason to speak to him in front of his friends (okay, maybe you definitely went out of your way to talk to him as often as you could.) —not that he cared, but he wasn’t losing his mind when he noticed that his interest wasn’t completely one-sided.
And yeah, maybe Eddie was just what you needed, but boys—boys were off limits. School, work, home. That’s how your life worked and it worked well. Routine was the only thing that kept you on such a straight line. Aside from that freshman hook up with Jason, then Jay from Band class, and that one—very quick—time with Aaron from Physics, there was also the other Erin—in contrast, she’d been an absolute dream to experience, both as a friend and someone who you felt safe enough sharing some of your firsts with. So maybe you weren’t as focused as you should’ve been—but you were trying, that counted, right?
“Princess,” Eddie’s voice brings you back to the surface, his fingers snapping in your face to break you from the trance you had fallen in, “time to come back to the land of the living.”
“Sorry,” You smile sheepishly, “What were you saying?”
He has the nerve to look smug, the faintest trace of a smirk on his face. “I didn’t say anything. You just went blank and—“ He waves his hands wildly in your direction, as if that made any sense.
You try to calm your thoughts, your mind, focusing yourself with the task at hand—get Eddie Munson out of here as soon as possible.
“Got that spare copy of Robo—“ You pull the copy of the horrible named porno from under the desk where you had left. That section was a nightmare to sort through. “Oh, well there was supposed to be a joke there—but now I forgot.” He seemed caught off guard by the idea that you already knew exactly what he was gearing to say. “You hidin’ it for yourself or something?”
“God no.” You scoff, typing idly. “I never step foot in that area of the store—that’s all Harrington’s domain.”
Eddie extends his hand out, making a soft grabbing motion toward the object in your hand. You offer it up cautiously, watching as he saunters over to the section and plopped it right back into the spot it belonged.
Well, that was one way to make the job easier. Actually—
“Hey, are you busy right now?” It’s a shot in the dark, but it’s still worth it.
“Depends on why you’re asking.” Eddie says slowly, palms resting against the counter upon his return. He’s eyeing you carefully, you try not to look away.
“I could use the help sorting,” You start, pointing at the pile you hadn’t even made a dent in yet, “and I’ve gotta cover a shift at the record store in a few hours, so I’d really like to get this shit done, preferably today.”
“Record store? The one over by Bradley’s Big Buy?” Eddie perked up out of nowhere. “I go there all the time.”
“Yeah.” You reply is slow, methodical. “My dad owns it.”
“No fuckin’ way.” If Eddie was trying to hide the fact that you may have just become his favorite person ever, he was doing a terrible job. His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.
“You know what—you help me get through all of this before my shift ends and I’ll let you sift through the storage in the back of the record shop where we keep the real gems, let you take a few as a reward for your hard work. Deal?” You hold out your hand, waiting for the deal to be set in stone.
“Oh, hell yeah.” Eddie says, shaking your hand firmly.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The keys jingle as you fiddle with the lock on the door. Eddie’s feet doing a soft pitter-patter behind you. He was antsy as hell, more so than you had ever seen him. It was driving you insane—you turn abruptly to look at him.
“Eddie, seriously—I’m going to have to strap you to a chair if you don’t stop.” He didn’t think you were serious, but you were absolutely willing to do whatever was needed.
“Sorry.” He says softly, the shuffling coming to a stop a few moments after. You offer him a warm smile, finally managing to force the lock to turn, opening the back entrance to the shop.
The smell was something you could never forget. It was similar to the smell of old books, mixed with the sweet smell of cinnamon. The small area that encased the back of the store was for employees—a lounge area fit for a few people with a small kitchenette attached. You glance back at Eddie, who hadn’t moved from the spot he was in. You grab for his wrist, gently yanking him inside and shutting the door behind you.
“When I said stop I didn’t mean freeze.” You joke playfully, continuing to hold onto the sleeve of his jacket as you tug him through the rest of the way, turning another corner to reach the storage room. “A few rules—none of the boxes off the top shelf, mostly because I don’t want you hurting yourself and I have no idea how sturdy those things are and two, you don’t speak a word of this to anyone—not a single soul, Eddie Munson.”
“Heard, boss.” He nods eagerly.
“Voila.” Throwing your hand out to the side fancifully, allowing him a grand entrance into the only sacred part of this building.
If anyone found out about this, you were surely dead.
“There’s a few first editions in here, some misprints, a lot of represses and remasters—it’s a lot so just…have at it.” Eddie’s holding his hands close to his body, afraid that if he touches anything it was going to disintegrate into a pile of dust, which was very well possible.
“Personally, I’d go with a copy of Ozzy or Iron Maiden, these are almost impossible to get your hands on.” You pull out the two covers simultaneously, parading them out for show. His smile is genuine, but it doesn’t seem to be what he’s looking for.
He scans around for a minute before finally stopping on a box a few feet away. “Aha!” Eddie exclaims, holding the piece up in front of him. “Found you.”
Metallica. You should’ve known. It was a damn good album, even you could attest to that. “Good choice.” You nudge him gently, sifting through the box in front of him. If he wants to say something, he doesn’t. Eddie bites his tongue, for once. It was way too much to unpack in one evening—the idea of some popular priss of the school like you even recognizing how absolutely metal this album was.
“Actually, I think I’ll stick with this.” Eddie tells you, following your lead as you exited the storage room. He didn’t want to be greedy or take advantage of the situation and you were fine with that, it was nice, actually. You couldn’t remember the last time you had ever managed to have a conversation with a boy that didn’t end with him asking to shove a hand up your shirt, or worse.
Though, Eddie’s own bubble of bliss popped at the sound of a voice carrying through to the back of the store, eyes widening in fear. You panic, shoving him into a dark corner, down one of the rows, yanking him down to squat out of sight.
“I thought you said we didn’t have to worry about your dad showing up?!” Eddie says in a hushed whisper, eyes showing how desperate he was to escape this situation.
You silence him with the palm of your hand, pulling him lower, almost on top of you, to avoid being seen. You turn to peek from under the legs that held up the bins of records, watching as your father wandered around until he found what he was looking for—his wallet, of all fucking things. Eddie says something into your hand, but it’s muffled. You swat him gently, but it’s enough to warrant a warning—and the look you give him... he obeys almost immediately.
The moment you two are finally alone again, you both collapse with a loud sigh on the floor—hearts pounding out of your chest.
“Am I dead?” Eddie asks, staring up at the ceiling. You lean over him, popping into his line of sight.
“If you’re dead, I guess I’ll have to take back that copy of—“ You slowly reach for the record he still had a death grip on.
“No, no. Anything but that.” He begs, holding it closer to his chest. You chuckle softly, pushing yourself up. Eddie follows suit slowly, still reeling from the aftermath of what had just happened.
“Wanna listen for a bit?” You suggest, trying to ease some of his nerves. “I’ve got a few minutes until I have to open shop and that record player up front is top of the fuckin’ line. It sounds amazing.”
“You wanna listen? To Metallica?” He asks, confirming what he had suspected earlier, but it still didn’t help hide the bewilderment he was experiencing.
“The fact that I know you’re judging me so hard is kind of an asshole move, Munson.” You tease, grabbing the vinyl from his hand and setting it onto the record player.
It crackles to life, almost like magic, the song begins to play dimly in the background. You didn’t want to risk blowing the speakers out this early, so a manageable volume seemed appropriate.
“I’m not judging, I swear. I just—I had no idea, you know.” He’s leaning against the wall, hands crossed loosely over his chest. “Metal heads are a rare breed, they think we’re all fuckin’ nuts.”
“Aren’t we?” You joke, perched against the top of one of the leather chairs arranged near the entrance.
“There’s no way you’re real.” Eddie shakes his head with disbelief, running a twitchy hand through the back of his hair. It makes your heart twinge, the way he sounds so exasperated over the whole thing.
“I’m very real.” You remind him, poking gently at his arm. Eddie makes a small sound, a huff of laughter, though pained in the way it never actually leaves his mouth. “You okay, Eddie?”
“Yeah. Yeah, fine.”
Eddie was either impossible to read, or showing his emotions on his sleeve, there was no in-between. But right now, you were struggling to decipher why he seemed so off—switching from foot to foot nervously, fingers pulling at the loose thread on his jacket absently, chewing softly at his bottom lip like he’s trying desperately to stop himself from talking.
Screw always staying on the straight and narrow, you were taking the damn leap. You reach out for the hand that was tugging at a flimsy piece thread, fingers wrapping loosely around his own. His gaze is soft, looking up at you ever so slightly. “Eddie, you can talk to me.”
“Huh.” It’s a quiet sound, but you watch that way his chest bounces at the action. He’s eerily silent, like he can’t find the words to talk—but you could do enough of that for the both of you.
“Okay, don’t talk to me.” It comes out wrong, condescending. You scramble for a moment, “Not—I mean, I want you to feel like you can talk to me, but if you don’t want to, that’s fine too.” It’s a gentle reminder that no matter what, you respected his boundaries.
I’m kind of obsessed with you—is what he wants to say. But he can’t. He can’t even form the words. Any words. He takes a long, deep breath to calm himself.
“Please don’t hate me for this.”
“Why would I—“ Oh.
It felt…too good, too right, too entirely fuckin’ real. You can’t even find it in you to pull back, inhaling shakily against Eddie’s mouth, parting just enough to give you the space you needed to let your brain catch up with the rest of your body.
“Still don’t hate you.” You whisper into the air between you both, lips still close enough that they graze against his with every movement.
“Good.” He sighs, reaching forward to press one last sweet, lingering kiss against your lips. It was a lot less scandalous than you anticipated—not that you ever imagined kissing Eddie Munson...but still, definitely better than any expectation you might’ve had.
“Eddie, I really have to work.” You say with nothing but regret, feeling like cutting this short was a lousy attempt at escaping the situation, which was so far from what you wanted to do, but you couldn’t even process what was happening, not fully, at least. “We can talk later, if you want.”
“Uh, sure.” Eddie still sounds defeated, backing away slowly. He didn’t know what he was expecting, really. There was no way you would immediately fall head over heels, prepared with some sort of epic love confession. Still, he was disappointed with himself for not being able to express things differently.
You sigh, trying to find some way to reassure the poor boy standing before you. “We can shelf this,” You thought it was kinda cheesy, he did too. His smile is enough to make you feel a little bit better about cutting him off so quickly, “and you can call this number when you feel like talking to me.”
Reaching for the pen sitting on the clipboard on the table beside you, you scribble down a fury of numbers on a line of paper and shove it into his palm. You couldn’t do mixed signals, friends or not—if Eddie had something he wanted to say, you needed to hear it, he needed to hear himself say it. You needed it to be real.
“I’ll wait.”
As long as it would take.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
A day passes, then two, three—nearly a week and Eddie still hasn’t bothered to call you, no matter how much time you spent sitting by the landline all evening, going so far as to study and eat dinner within arms reach of the phone, wondering why he still hadn’t called.
Maybe he had changed his mind, and that was fine, but it was still a kick in the ass—a reminder that you couldn’t let silly little crushes distract you like this. Eddie even avoided you in the hallway more often, taking a left toward his mandatory PE class, rather than taking the long way around to have a conversation with you. You felt ashamed, embarrassed that you had even allowed him to kiss you, it made you feel vulnerable.
After a week of silence and too many eerily quiet shifts at Family Video, enough is enough. And as luck would have it, you find him on a Friday night, digging through a discount bin at your dad’s record store—which, you should have known. But what was more astonishing, was how long he had managed to avoid you, here, of all places.
“We’re closing in ten, folks!” Your dad’s voice bellows through the place, warning the very few stragglers left that if they weren’t out within that time, it would be an issue. “Hiya, sweetheart.”
Eddie whips around at the speed of light, eyes landing on you immediately. You can’t help but look smug, arms crossed tightly over your chest. He tries to compose himself, turning back to the bin and continuing to browse through.
What an asshole, you think.
“Hey.” It’s simple, short, an easy way to start a conversation.
“Hi.” His voice doesn’t waver, but he sure as hell doesn’t look at you.
“If you’re not going to say anything, I will.” He’d done enough tiptoeing the past week, you just wanted an explanation.
He sighs, looking up at you slowly. “I know. I’m a dick for ignoring you.” He wasn’t wrong, you definitely felt it was a dick move that way he handled things. But, you hated holding grudges, especially against someone like Eddie, who you never hated to begin with.
“I get it, if you didn’t want to talk about what happened—it’s fine, but I still like talking to you, Eddie. You wouldn’t even look at me during lunch or any time I passed you in the halls—and don’t forget how late you are on returning that copy of ‘A New Hope’.” You point a feebly accusing finger in his direction, poking gently at his chest.
“I did.” He admits, “I gave it to Harrington and he handled it for me.”
Brows furrowed, your gaze ices over. “You went through me—to Steve?!” Now that, that stung. “You couldn’t even return a rental because I scared you off that much?”
“You didn’t scare me!”
You both freeze, not entirely sure where the outburst stunned from, luckily enough the store had emptied already. Still, that left a very clueless father of yours to watch the whole conversation unravel.
“I’ll give you two some privacy.” He says, but it’s mostly directed at you. He slips the store keys into your hand. “Lock up and don’t stay out too late.”
You’ve never been more thankful for having such relaxed parents.
“You didn’t scare me.” Eddie repeats himself, more relaxed but still tense around the edges.
“Then why are you avoiding me?” You push. “Was kidding me really that horrible?”
“No—god, no. I have—I don’t really,” He takes a breath, hand steady out in front of himself between the space you two held, “I’ve never talk to people that I like—everyone thinks I’m this freak that worships that devil when all I really do is—“
“Play D&D with underclassmen and listen to metal rock at ungodly volumes from the inside of your van?” You ask, seemingly shutting him up. “Eddie, I know—the only people that believe that shit are the ones that can’t even look at themselves in the mirror and face who they are.”
You pull him toward the seating nook near the front of the store, forcing him down on the old leather couch shoved against the wall, allowing him the time he needs before he speaks again. You didn’t glance over his admission at liking you, but it was so painfully obvious that bringing it up again might do more harm than good, teasing him was the last thing you wanted to do. It was better to let him find the words he needed to express how he felt, that’s what you’d been waiting for—nearly a week now.
“I kissed you and it screwed everything up. I was so caught up in this idea of what I thought you were that when I realized who you actually were—I didn’t know how to respond, so I kissed you.”
“I do have interests, Eddie. I’m not some robot. They may not be what you expected, but the person I am at school, that’s not me. It’s what I want people to see—outside of school, I don’t have to force that image that I throw on. It’s just me.” You kept the two things on different sides of the universe, not that you weren’t ashamed of the fake act you put on around everyone, but it was the least complicated thing that somehow made sense in your mind.
You continue talking, Eddie forced to do nothing but listen. “I like Kate Bush and Journey—fuckin’ Metallica. My dad taught me how to play D&D when I was twelve for fucks sake. I love nerdy shit and maybe I’m ashamed to tell people that, but I’m sure as hell not afraid to like it.”
Eddie could’ve sworn his brain short-circuited at your admission, not that it was something groundbreaking, but it was something he had failed to notice on his own, how easily he overlooked you and believed in the show you put on for everyone else.
“I always thought you looked at me as some weird freak that annoyed you all the time.” He laughs quietly, fingers rubbing against the side of his rings absently.
“Annoyed me, yes.” You giggle softly, “Looked at you like you were some weird freak? Never. That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?”
“Well, now I just feel like an asshole.” Eddie admits, smirking ever so slightly. “I should’ve noticed.”
“That was the whole point, Eddie.” You tell him, thumping his forehead gently. He gasps, rubbing the spot dramatically, as if you actually did any damage. “You think I didn’t know what you were doing these past few months? Visiting me at work, purposely saving the seat behind me in class just so you could bother me for answers—you could’ve just talked to me, Eddie. The idea that you think that I think I’m too good for you—it hurts.”
“Everything is fucked up now.” He says, it being the only conclusion he could come to. There was no rectifying what he had ruined, not in his mind.
“It’s not,” you remind him, slowly standing from your seat to pull from the stack of records by the record player, the beginnings of some random pop-ish song you’ve never heard of filling the room, “and since you want to be so self-deprecating, I’m going to make you sit through this god awful song until you realize that not only do I not hate you—I would let you kiss me again, and again, and ag—“
Eddie grips your head firmly, hand cradling the back of your head, fingers all wound up in your hair. He’s got his mouth on you, this time completely unashamed, all him and no impulse. It’s a little sloppy, the way his mouth meets yours. You weren’t ready for it, but to say that your mouth wasn’t a perfect fit against his own, that was a blatant lie. You two fit together well, his lips slotting against yours perfectly. He smells like weed and pine and nature, it’s your favorite smell in the world now.
“And again, and again.” Eddie mocks against your lips when you two finally come up for air. He couldn’t tell you where the sudden act of boldness came from, his body working purely on feeling and adrenaline.
“We gotta stop doing this.” You say, pulling back just enough to look at him.
“Kissing? Because I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to—“
“No, turning this record shop into our sacred make out spot.”
Eddie snorts at that, pulling back even more, head thrown back in a small fit of laughter. “I wouldn’t call that making out, would you?”
“You know what I mean.” You shove him lightly, nearly pushing him off you. But, he doesn’t let go.
Silence falls over you both, neither of you finding the words to break it. It didn’t feel wrong, crossing this line. Eddie wasn’t some forbidden fruit you couldn’t have a taste of—though he couldn’t say the same for you, but there were definitely some things that needed to be worked through.
“You’re not my boyfriend,” You tell him sternly and outright, “not yet. But, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to let you kiss me if you want to.”
“You’re not afraid of what people will say?” It’s the first genuine question that you can immediately answer, not an inkling of doubt behind it.
“I don’t give a shit what people think about who I associate myself with.” You reply honestly, eyes conveying an openness you only reserved for the people closest to you.
“Won’t it tank your reputation?” He laughs, fingers coming up to play with a stray piece of hair framing your face. “Can’t stay popular when you have a freak like me following you around.”
“Doubtful.” The students of Hawkins were so desperate for leadership, they would follow you without question. It was a gross thing to think about, but some people couldn’t be bothered to think for themselves and would rather have other people do it for them. “I think I scare a lot of people.”
Eddie nods, almost like he can relate. “You can be a little terrifying.”
“Good.” You say proudly, finally managing to separate yourself from Eddie, even if you really didn’t want to.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
He kisses you that following Monday, square on the mouth, in front of not only his entire group of friends from Hellfire, but the entire senior class, including a few other underclassmen that lingered in the hallway for far too long. It’s puzzling at first, you’re confused, but you manage to fix your face quickly, smiling up at the boy standing in front of you.
“You really like drawing a crowd, Munson.” You tease, voice hushed so only he could hear.
“It’s a talent.” He remarks, gesturing wildly with his face, fingers pointed up to mimic devil horns, tongue stuck out for extra flair.
He was unapologetically himself and it was refreshing. You didn’t realize how hard everyone was staring until he’s left your side, and maybe you should feel ashamed, but the moment you attempt to lock eyes with any of them, they’re averting their eyes at the speed of light. Good—mind your damn business, you think.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
He still pesters you at Family Video every other day, but not nearly as much as before. Fortunately for Steve, he was receiving most of the attention now—and even if he would never admit it, he was warming up to Eddie.
“He asked if I could sell him some weed.” Eddie tells you one day, unprovoked and out of the blue. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head in surprise.
“You know what, I don’t even wanna know.” You tell him, hands up in defense. “Just know, Steve has the tolerance of a mouse—beer, weed, whatever. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Oh what, and little miss perfect’s never smoked a joint before?”
“Never.” You assure him. You weren’t one to judge, to each their own, but you never found any interest in actually trying it.
“And somehow you’ve got a crush on the one dude who smokes weed on a daily basis.” Eddie teases, finger jabbing your cheek softly. You can’t help but smile.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The first time Eddie invites you to his trailer is rather uneventful. You meet his uncle, briefly. He doesn’t seem like much of a talker, but he’s still pleasantly surprised to see his nephew talking to someone, no matter who they were.
You two end up eating silently, talking about random and obscure things that only made sense between the four walls you both existed in.
“Favorite D&D class—go.” Eddie shoots a finger gun your way, grape shoved halfway into your mouth.
“Easy, rogue.” Stealth & trickery, that one was built for you. “Your turn.”
“Bard.” He says after a careful moment of thinking. “I don’t think that really needs much explaining.” Eddie says, flashing the beautiful guitar that hung on his wall, his most prized possession. “Plus, I’m super fuckin’ charming.”
“That you are.” You whisper softly, leaning forward to pull him in for a kiss. It’s cut entirely too short by Eddie pulling away, shoving another bit of food into his own mouth.
“Eat first, kiss later.” He orders.
And it’s not against your own human nature when you only receive so much as a few kisses before you’re leaving that night, wondering if maybe you were pushing too hard.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
So, you dial things back. It was fine if Eddie was making an attempt at slowing things down on purpose—the problem was, you weren’t used to it. You blame that partially on the fact that you’ve never gotten involved in anything more than a quick hookup. It was a foreign concept.
But Eddie does seem to take notice that you’re trying to create more distance at his expense and that just won’t do. So he’ll slide his hand up the back of your shirt, over the curve of your ass, a gentle tug on your hair when he’s kissing the life out of you from the driver’s side of his van, parked in the makeshift driveway outside his trailer home.
But, it constantly leaves you wanting more. You want him to touch you everywhere, constantly thinking about how his hands would feel around your thighs, running up the plane of your breasts, around your neck—and maybe you can blame it on the late surge of teenage hormones running through your body at eighteen.
And when the words finally left your mouth a few weeks later, laid out underneath Eddie on his unmade bed, you weren’t really sure what to expect.
“Are you scared to have sex with me?” You ask, voice sounding entirely too small in this big room. “Did I do something wrong?”
He lifts his head from where it’s resting on your chest, “What?”
“Are you waiting until marriage? Because if you are—that’s fine, but I really didn’t see that coming from you—not that I’m judging, it’s a valid choice.” You spit out in one breath, trying to compensate for how shitty you felt after asking him that.
“I’m a virgin.” He blurts out at once.
“O-oh. Okay.” You say slowly, caught off-guard by the admission. “I’m sorry, I just assumed that—“
“I’ve made out with people before and done a few other things but,” He tells you, “I’ve just never..”
“No, it’s fine.” You assure him, sitting up in his bed to look at him clearly, “I feel like a total asshole now.”
“Believe me, I want to have sex with you.” He looks so damn earnest, his palm resting against your knee, thumb rubbing against the skin gently. “I just don’t want to disappoint—gotta live up to the reputation, you know?”
“You’ve never even come close?” You ask curiously. It seemed like a harmless enough question to ask.
“Yeah—a few times. I always cut things short, though. I’ve had people offer me sex and blowies in exchange for weed, but that just feels wrong on so many levels.”
You nod slowly, thoughtfully. “Well, I’m not gonna push you or anything. It doesn’t have to be some big, monumental thing we have to tiptoe around. We can just…figure it out as we go.”
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The next couple months are easy, creeping up toward Christmas, impatiently awaiting a much needed break from school, work—even life. You wanted to lock yourself in your room and sleep for a week straight. Between your constant work shifts, covering Steve for dates because you’re way too nice of a friend, and still making sure to spend time with Eddie, you were worn out. Not that Eddie was a chore, but it felt like you couldn’t give him your full, undivided attention when your mind was constantly thinking of your schedule for the next day.
When you finally do manage to reward yourself with a few glorious days off, you spend them locked up in your room, just as you intended.
Tap. Tap. It was nearly eleven at night, who in the hell could possible be—
Eddie’s head pops into view, clearly struggling to keep himself upright. You scramble to the window, opening it up to pull him inside.
“Are you insane?” You ask, helping him step over the threshold without face planting on to the carpet. “My parents are asleep downstairs—if they find you up here this late, I’m dead. Dead, Eddie.”
“I’ll be quiet.” He smiles, fingers crossed over his heart in a way that told you he meant it.
“What did you want?” You ask, not really trying to sound like an asshole, but your exhaustion is making it seem that way.
“Wanted to see you.” He shrugs, plopping himself down on your bed. He’s holding his hands out too, hoping you would follow suit.
He nearly manhandles you over his lap, letting you rest against his thighs. “What’s gotten into you?” You ask, hands resting against his lower abdomen where his shirt had ridden up. “Is this a late night booty call?”
“A what—“ He looks genuinely confused, “nevermind.”
“Oh, so you just missed me?” You tease, hands crawling up the expanse of his chest, you reach forward to kiss teasingly against the bit of his chest that was exposed from his top, right above his tattoo. “That’s cute.”
“I had an idea.” Oh no, you think. It was either going to be something completely outlandish or—who the fuck were you kidding? This was Eddie. “Since you’ve been so stressed lately.”
“Yeah?” You reply eagerly, ready for any type of distraction to help take your mind off of everything.
“Let me go down on you.” And if there was a list of things that you never expected to hear Eddie Munson say, that was nearing the top.
“Eddie Munson.” You respond, sounding scandalized.
“Don’t tell me you’re turning down an orgasm.” He responds cockily, almost full of himself.
“I thought you said you-“
“I’m not that clueless, princess.” Well then. “Now, lay down.”
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Definitely not clueless. Not in the slightest of ways.
Eddie’s mouth his way down the inside of your thigh, biting and licking at your skin in a way that has you squirming desperately.
“No fingers.” He tells you.
You nod. At a loss of words for the first time in your life.
“Just my mouth.” He says around a particularly sensitive spot, sucking lightly. “That’s all I need.”
He sounds entirely too sure of himself.
“We can make a deal, if you’re that confident.” You challenge, head craning down to look at him from in between your legs. He gives you a look that signals for you to keep talking, not bothering to stop the desperate attack on your skin that was surely going to leave marks the next morning.
“You make me come—I’ll blow you.” You say breathlessly, squirming again as the heat from his breath hits your bare cunt. “Deal?”
“Fuck yeah.”
He starts gentle, easy, separating your folds with his tongue and teasing at your clit. You sigh, admiring the sight of Eddie’s head tucked between your legs, face buried into the apex of your thighs. It seemed like a bold statement at first, the idea of Eddie making you come with nothing but his mouth—but you realize your own feeble mistake. Eddie turned you on enough that he didn’t need to use fingers, you could come with just his mouth—hell, just the sight of him between your legs had your thighs clenching around his head, caging him in place.
The hand that isn’t resting against your stomach pulls against the inside of your thigh, forcing your legs open wider, and wider. He’s practically drinking you in now, switching between licking and sucking at your sensitive clit in intervals that had your body arching in pleasure and agony—agony at the fact that this couldn’t continue on forever.
“You’re such a liar.” You force out through clenched teeth, his chuckle is apparent as it vibrates against your cunt, sending you reeling.
“Just because I haven’t had sex doesn’t mean I can’t compensate in other areas.” And then he’s back to work.
“Oh, oh fuck.” You’re desperately trying to keep your voice down, the only solution being for you to cover your mouth with your hand, muffling the moans that Eddie was pulling out of you. “This is cruel.”
“You’re really wet.” He observes, pulling back to allow you both a breather, “It’s all over your sheets.”
“Shit happens—I’ll wash them later—just keep going, please.” You rush out, using your hands to physically direct him back to your cunt, his nose brushing up against your clit as his tongue dipped inside of you.
You were passed caring at this point, desperate for the orgasm that was building in your lower abdomen. You’ve got the sheets in a knuckle white grip, gasping at every lick and nudge he made against your sensitive and swollen clit, face burning with the heat of how close you were, flushed a deep red.
“Gonna come, Eddie.” You warn, which only encourages him further. And god, the mouth on him. He’s licking desperately at your cunt, your juices and his spit mixing together to create a glorious slippery mess that created the perfect amount of friction.
And he feels it coming, the way your fingers grip the hair at the base of his head, he reaches up to cover your mouth, you clasp your own hand over his—and finally, you let go.
“Christ.” You say on an exhale, dizzy from what had to be the single most hardest orgasm you’ve ever felt. “Get the fuck up here, Eddie.”
“And just like that,” He snaps, “stress free.” His face is wet still, covered in you, and you can’t help but laugh. “What, something on my face?” You reach up and grab the collar of his shirt to wipe away the mess from his mouth.
“All good.” You assure him, patting his chest gently. It takes a while for you to finally gain your bearings, but eventually you do. “And like I said—a deal is a deal.” You turn to look at him, enjoying the way he’s spread out on your bed, smug and jovial. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
He nods, “With a gorgeous someone like you asking to suck my dick? Absolutely.”
Eddie sure had a way with words.
“Here, turn this way.” You tell him, tapping his thigh softly so he’d move.
“Why can’t I—“ You drop to your knees on the soft carpet of your floor, fitting perfectly between his legs. “Oh.”
You unbuckle his belt, fumbling a little with the loops, so you forgo trying to take the whole thing off and just focus on being able to unbutton his pants. He pushes them down, letting them pool around his ankles.
Eddie doesn't really know where to put his hands, first his thighs, then the sheets and back again. “Do I just—“
You place his hands on either side of him, wrapped around the edge of the mattress and—Jesus, was that more a turn on than having his head between your thighs, his rings shining prominently against the pale skin of his fingers.
“Just keep them there and flow with whatever works, Eddie. You tell me what feels good.” He nods softly.
He’s hard already, reeling off the high of going down on you, so instead of trying to tease him any longer—which you weren’t sure he could handle, you peel his underwear down, enough to where it drops on its own and you can finally admire his dick in full view, completely bare.
You didn’t realize you had your bottom lip pulled underneath your top row of teeth until Eddie was rubbing gently at your chin, staring down at you with gentle, loving eyes. It’s so sickeningly sweet that you want to burst into tears.
“No fingers?” You tease. “Just my mouth?”
“I think we can make an exception in this case.”
You waste no time in wrapping your hand around his shaft, Eddie swallowing audibly from above you. Still in one piece, that was good. You move slowly, a few long, languid strokes of his dick until you’re peering up at him asking, “Is this good?”
Contrary to whatever Eddie might be thinking, you’ve never actually had anyone’s anything in your mouth. Handjobs were easy, quick—but you’d never gone so far as to give a blowjob to any guy you’ve ever hooked up with. This was all new territory for you.
“Here.” Eddie has a firm grip around your hand, pushing you to squeeze a little tight, tug faster, enough to build a steady pace of both pressure and friction. “Shit—like that. That’s good.”
He sighs shakily, leaning more into the weight of his arm, praying to whatever god out there that it was enough to keep him upright.
You lean forward to lick at the tip carefully, he’s quiet and methodical, like he’s trying to focus on something. His eyes are shut right, hands now balled into fists.
Another lick this time, from the base of his dick to the tip before you’re swallowing him down, using your hands to follow what your mouth couldn’t. Unfortunately for you, gag reflexes were definitely still a thing and you weren’t going to force what wouldn’t fit—and there was a lot of Eddie that wasn’t going to fit. He was, without a doubt, bigger than any other person you’d been with—not so comical that it didn’t seem real, but it was more than enough.
“Fuck, this is gonna over way to quick.” He groans, “Slow-slow down.”
“Hands in my hair.” You tell him, guiding a hand toward the back of your head, he obeys easily, fingers twisted into the hair at the base of your neck. “Control the pace, I’ll follow.”
“You’re not real.” He breathes out in disbelief, rewarding him by swirling your tongue around the tip of his dick before your lips wrap around it, sucking lightly.
He moans louder than you initially expected, both of you pulling back in shock, your hand immediately darting toward his mouth.
“Don’t think I won’t shove something in your mouth if you want to keep that up.” You warned halfheartedly, but you were definitely more serious than playful.
“I can’t make any promises, sweetheart.” Well, you appreciated the honesty.
You suck him down again, as fully as possible, keeping a steady rhythm around his dick. He’s holding himself together better, but he’s still pretty noisy regardless. You reach aimlessly for something, anything, to shove in his mouth.
“Back pocket of my jeans,” He says, practically whining, “the—fuck, just grab it, you know what I’m talking about.”
You quickly yank at the black handkerchief in the pocket of his jeans, shoving it quickly into his mouth on the uptick of another groan, muffled perfectly by the fabric.
He bucks his hips on a particular downward motion of your mouth, the back of his dick hitting your throat and nearly causing you to gag, but you recover, bringing him closer and closer to his own orgasm. Eddie can’t even focus on his own thoughts at this point, he sounds insufferable. He’s gone from upright to sprawled across your sheets, gasping underneath the confines of the cloth.
“Gonna come,” Eddie forces out, quickly unstuffing his mouth, patting your shoulder gently as a warning, “you gotta pull off.”
You do and just in time for Eddie to spill over his stomach, his shirt having thankfully ridden up enough in his constant squirming that it narrowly managed to miss it. He’s clearly forcing himself to keep quiet, feeling himself coming down from the most mind blowing orgasm he’s ever received by another person. You try not to sit too long on the fact that no one has ever seen him the way you have, so blown out from an orgasm that you caused.
Eddie slowly pulls his underwear and jeans back over his hips, leaving them unbuttoned as he falls back on your bed, dragging you down with him.
“You really are the gift that keeps on giving.” He jokes, rubbing your back gently, hands finding their way underneath the fabric of your shirt, barely finger tipping past the point of your ass, playing absently with the hem of your underwear.
“And this gift needs some sleep.” You tell him.
And so what if you both ended up cuddled underneath the covers in your bedroom that night, neither of you bothering to ruin this tiny bit of bliss you had created. Eddie still managed to sneak out that morning without any evidence that he had ever been there.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Eddie can’t stop touching you since the night you two shared over the weekend, always finding any reason to have a hand on you—against your back, resting against the soft dip in your waist, or just dealing his arm around your shoulder in an effort to pull you closer.
“You sure you wanna try?” He asks, holding the joint in front of your face, waiting for you to grab it. “You really don’t have to.”
You wanted to, even if it was only this once. You had to live through the hype that everyone was talking about, even if you decided to never touch it after this moment, ever again.
“For the tenth time—yes.” You laugh, snatching the joint from his fingers and pulling it toward your lips. You remember what Eddie told you. Breathe in, not too deep, hold, then out through your nose.
But, you fuck up on the second step, taking in a little too much, lungs burning from the smoke you inhaled. You lean over, feeling like you’re going to cough yourself into a miserable death on the floor of Eddie’s trailer.
“We’ll work on it.” Eddie assures you, rubbing your back comfortingly.
It was the first and last time you ever touched a joint.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Christmas comes and goes, a flurry of family visits and gift giving to all of your friends, leading up to dinner at Eddie’s trailer the evening of the day after, enjoying a small dinner with himself and his uncle. There’s some small talk, but most of the dinner is spent with you watching the two of them debate over some band you aren’t even sure you’ve ever heard of.
“Thank you.” Eddie tells you when he’s finally parked in front of your house, rubbing the backside of your hand with his thumb, fingers curling around your palm. You squeeze his hand in return.
“It was nice.” You admit. “My family is really loud, so it was a lot more enjoyable than you’d think.”
He chuckles softly, not wanting to let go of your hand, and not really wanting to say goodbye, either. You check the driveway, reminding yourself that your parents had left for another party a few towns over, a family friend.
“Hey, why don’t you stay for a bit?” You suggest, nodding in the direction of your house. “My parents won’t be home until midnight, I’m guessing–so maybe I can finally give you a grand tour without my parents asking you a million questions.” And ask they would, which is exactly why he hadn’t officially met them yet. Plus, he hadn’t officially asked you to be his girlfriend in any sense of the word–so it didn’t feel right either way.
Eddie doesn’t even so much as hesitate, hopping out of his car to follow you to the front door. The house is a decent size–a few bedrooms and a couple bathrooms, kitchen, all the normal things you would expect from a house in the suburbs.
You both collapse on your bed the moment you enter your room, both exhausted and full from the ridiculous amount of food you consumed over dinner.
Eddie finds out that you talk in your sleep that night–which should be considered singing, but your voice is so off-key that not even he can sugarcoat it. He doesn’t say anything, though. He listens to you jam out into the quiet ambiance of your room, ceiling fan buzzing from above.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
“Let’s have sex.” Eddie interjects bluntly, causing you to choke on the giant swig of water you had just attempted to swallow. It was New Years Eve and you both had planned to spend it together, even if you didn’t really have anything fun to do—spending time with Eddie was always eventful—case in point.
“Yeah,” you nod slowly, “Okay.” You never bothered to push Eddie on the topic, letting him come to that decision when he felt like it. Plus, his courage has probably been boosted from all the orgasms he’s given you, not that you were complaining—Eddie gave amazing head.
It doesn’t take much more coaxing to get you into his bed, naked from the waist up, Eddie’s mouth focused on nothing but the soft, plush valley of your breasts. He squeezed the one that wasn’t occupied by his mouth gently, tongue swirling around the bud of your nipple.It felt good, amazing, but you were way too horny to focus on the feeling of Eddie's mouth against your tits for this long.
“This is probably a terrible time to bring this up—“ He begins, but you silence him, tearing his mouth away from your tender breast and up to your mouth.
“Whatever it is, it can wait.” You laugh softly. Eddie’s looking up at you, his hair a wild mess. He looks innocent and naive, with no idea what he was getting himself into. “Do you have condoms?”
Bareback was a hard no—no matter who it was. Although, the idea of tiny little Eddie’s running around was adorable, just not enough to sacrifice everything you learned in Sex Ed. He nods eagerly, reaching over you to grab a thin box from the top of his bedside table. He shakes it, box still unopened.
“How long have you had those?” You ask, almost certain you’d never seen any in his place before.
“A few weeks.” He shrugs, pulling one of the small tin foil squares out of the box and tossing it on the floor. “Wasn’t sure when I should bring it up, you know?”
Like you wouldn’t jump his bones the second he asked, regardless if it had been two days ago or two weeks. You had waited patiently for Eddie to come to the decision on his own, and that’s all you could do. It wasn’t something you two always tiptoed around, you didn’t treat it like he had some ailment that kept him from pleasing you otherwise, it was just one step you hadn’t gotten to yet.
“Have you been planning this, Munson?” You tease, fingers dragging down his chest slowly, stopping just at the edge of his belt, your fingers curling around it.
“You can’t prove anything.” He replies, shoving his face into the crook of your neck to bite teasingly at the skin there. You yelp, squirming in the way it sends shivers down your spine.
“Beautiful, charming, and chivalrous—what did I do to deserve you?” You ask, a smile gracing your face. “Not to mention how downright dirty that mouth is.”
“Oh, I’m full of surprises, sweetheart.” His voice low and teasing, coming up to capture your lips in a filthy kiss, all tongue and eager enthusiasm.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Part of you was glad that the shyness between you both was long gone, having seen each other in enough intimate ways that now—it was normal. It took a lot of the edge off for Eddie, who seemed more and more relaxed as the night drew on. You’d both forgone clothing very early on, relishing in the sight of being able to see Eddie completely bare—tattoo and toned muscle on full display.
He’s pretty insistent about going down on you despite how you insisted he didn’t have to, but it was Eddie—always wanting to give more than he took.
“Just like that.” You sigh softly, hips hovering over his mouth, your cunt making a mess all over his face. “Fuck—don’t stop.”
His tongue works quickly, rubbing over the sensitive nub of your swollen clit, his hands coming behind you to pull you further against his face. He’s practically groaning underneath you, hips bucking up into nothing—you’re ready to put him out of his misery, but the crashing feeling of your orgasm creeps up on you out of nowhere, cunt riding it out against his face, which he ravished greedily.
He’s very adamant about not having you return the favor. “There’s no way I’ll last through you doing that and being inside you without blowing my load, at least once. And truthfully, I’d like this to last a little longer than thirty seconds.”
He’s painfully honest and it’s adorable.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He sighs, brows furrowed slightly.
“You want me on top?” You ask softly, hovering over his bare thighs.
“Are you actually asking me that?” He laughs, a little dumbfounded. He’s right, stupid question.
You grab his hand, guiding it toward your sensitive pussy, allowing him to dip a single digit inside of you. He breathes in sharply, his fingers barely moving. He wasn’t even inside you and he already looked like he could fall apart.
Eddie notices the way your eyes fall shut, basking in the feeling of being filled up, even if it wasn’t by him—not really. He’s slow, precise, curling his finger ever so often until you’re rocking against his own hand, then he’s adding another. “More.” You say, he listens one obediently, squeezing another finger into you, working steadily inside of you now. The stretch felt amazing, but it was still lacking what you needed. You reach between you both, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, pulling gently.
He’s quiet, eyes closed. You pull again, rubbing your thumb over the tip, spreading the small amount of precome that had leaked out. “Fuck, I wanna be inside you.” Eddie moans, mouth hung open slightly.
You decide to finally put him out of his misery.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Eddie’s silent as he slips on the condom, his tongue sticking out past his lips from focusing too hard. “Okay, I think we’re good.” He says finally, looking up at you. He squeezes at the side of your waist, pulling you over him.
You guide him inside of you, sinking down into him slowly. It had been far too long since you had been with anyone, the stretch making you wince slightly—it didn’t help that Eddie was a lot larger than what you were typically used to.
Eddie lets out a plethora of soft, random noises—watching intently as your cunt swallows him before finally it can’t take anymore, now pressed fully against one another.
“Move. Just move.” He urges you, hands gripping your waist tightly, you being the only thing anchoring him to reality.
You do, slowly, rocking against him until he’s finally able to focus—“You okay?” You say softly, and the look he gives is something you will never be able to get out of your mind—bottom lip sucked between his teeth, eyes locked on the place where you were both joined together, before glancing up to look at you. He nods jerkily, “Wanna switch?” You ask, giving him the chance to control the pace.
“Please—I already feel like I’m gonna come quickly, but having you on top is just—“ He didn’t feel the need to elaborate.
He flips you over easily, manhandling you against his sheets. Your hips rested high up onto his hips, his forearms barricading your head. He’s moving slowly, too slowly, a short thrust of his hips every couple seconds. Eddie wasn’t going to last long and you knew it.
“Hey, it’s fine.” You reassure him, “Stop thinking.”
“Okay,” He nods, moving his hips faster, “I’m not going to last long, I’m sorry.”
“Eddie,” You grab his chin, pulling attention toward your face, “stop apologizing and fuck me.”
And it’s all he needs to hear.
His mouth latches into the dip of your collarbone, sucking lightly, snapping his hips at a pace that had you moaning out in pleasure. “Feels so good, Eddie.” He bites at the skin of your shoulder and it really shouldn’t turn you on as much as it should. “Again,” you encourage him, “do that again.”
His teeth trail against the skin of your neck, up under your chin, before suck your bottom lip into his mouth, teeth digging in gently. “Say my name.” He breathes against your open mouth.
“Eddie.” You sigh, voice squeaking on a particularly hard snap of his hips. He moans outwardly, loud and strangled. Eddie could feel himself falling apart.
“Fuck—I can’t. I’m gonna come.” He groans out, grunting at the feeling of you squeezing down against his dick.
“It’s okay.” You shake your head, letting him bury his into your neck, his sounds muffled into the sheets.
Eddie’s loud when he comes, hands gripping your thighs so hard that you were definitely going to leave bruises, but you didn’t mind. “Fuck!” He shouts, riding himself through his orgasm before he’s collapsing on top of you. “Holy shit.”
“Well, that’s one way to ring in the New Year.” You comment, hand reaching to wipe that hair out of his face where it had been stuck with sweat. He huffs into your cheek, nose squished against your face. Eddie kisses your cheek, your nose, before capturing your mouth. He pulls out slowly, tying off the condom and tossing it into the trash bin beside his bed before returning back to his original position on top of you,
“Inside of my girlfriend?” He asks, pulling back to look at you. The word slips out accidentally.
“Girlfriend?” You ask, eyebrow raised in question.
“Well, that’s what I was trying to ask you early—but someone was just too horny they couldn’t wait for me to ask. I guess I probably shouldn’t assume you would say yes but—“
“Ask me again.” You tell him, finger coming up to trace his bottom lip. He smiles widely, biting the finger in retaliation.
“Fine.” He kisses the side of your hand. “Will you be my girlfriend?”
“Hmm.” You start, “Well-“
“Oh, no way—“ You immediately clasp your hand over his mouth.
“Yes.” You tell him, eyes boring into his own. “Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#my writing#idk how to make short fics i'm sorry#1kfic#5kfic
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𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 pt. ii ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary: a night of bad choices leads to misery in the following weeks, neither of you managing to get the other out of your mind. teasing, hateful words, and a birthday party lead to another mess you can't be bothered to fix.
cw: 18+ (minors, dni) teacher/student relationship, age gap (21 & 29), corruption!kink (eddie is well aware of what he’s doing), max is readers bestfriend, praise words (good girl) eddie has a kink for being called sir (he can't admit it to himself), bratty!reader (sorta), more angsty touches, fingering & oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, and a hate fuck, they're both down so bad for each other
word count: 9k - part one, part three, part four
The pit in your stomach never fades, only growing larger as the days went on, terrified to face Eddie after the sequences of events that took place, one bad choice leading into another. You didn’t even have the chance to touch him, not really—and it seemed like he was okay with that, like he didn’t want it at all.
You could’ve easily just been another notch on his belt, another depraved and willing woman, falling for the teacher, opening themselves up to the consequences that came with it.
Monday is dreadful as you walk into his classroom, his front turned to the board, writing out something rather furiously, focusing himself on the task in front of him rather than greeting the class like he usually does.
But he doesn’t owe you anything, so why should you care?
It wasn’t like he violated you in the passenger seat of his van—you willing allowed the defilement to happen and you knew you were weak enough to let it happen again, but he seemed stuck on the idea that it was never going to happen again and he could live with himself by just ignoring you and acting like nothing ever happened—his gaze doesn’t even falter as it lands on you, careful hands placing the assignment on his desk.
“I need to see you after class.” His voice is low, eyes connecting with his. They seem darker, less warm than usual.
“Okay.” Your response is meek and quiet, weary of the others around.
And while he rambled through his own lesson, it felt like a personal attack, hands flexing as he talked, arms crossing and uncrossing, or how crudely the front of his slacks tightened over his groin, leaving little to imagination in your own mind—you hadn’t seen it for yourself, but there was no questioning it; he knew what he was doing.
He stops you at his desk on your way down the steps, the strap of your bag held tight in your grip. “Here,” It’s a white sheet of paper, a mountain of text you couldn’t be bothered to read. You shoot him a confused look, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance, “it’s a class transfer paper.”
You could feel the rage flooding your body at the admission, roughly shoving the paper back into his chest.
“Excuse you?” You ask, voice low as the last of the students lingered out the door, “I have every right to take this class.”
“Look, I don’t want to argue—“ Eddie starts, but he’s cut off by the clipped response you throw at him. The door to his class swings close on accident, probably bumped by a passing student—either way, you weren’t holding back.
“Fuck you.” It’s harsh and laced with venom, Eddie’s face twisting up in a mix of annoyance and frustration. “You’re not kicking me out of your class.”
He didn’t feel any better about the ultimatum than you, but it was the right thing to do. He couldn’t live with himself, having you sat across from him in his own classroom, much like the rest of his students—but know exactly what you sound like when you fall apart, all by his own bidding. He had to fix this while he still had the chance, even if he was battling every doubt in his body that told him not to.
“It’s not personal—I just don’t want this getting out of hand.”
“That’s not how this works,” You spit at him, fingering wagging between the both of you, “there is no this, to be clear—don’t you remember what you said?”
“That’s not why I’m—“
“No, shut up.” You cut him off once more, beyond the point of respect. Eddie’s shirt flexed against his chest as he shoved his hands into his pockets, letting the painful assent of insults rain down on him. “You’re the one that crossed that line—not me. And if you’re bothered, get over it—you’re an adult, aren’t you?”
Yes, he was. An adult in a position of authority over someone who he so desperately wanted to take over his desk, the back of his van, literally anywhere you would let him. But, none of that was possible.
He allowed himself the small taste he craved, it was enough.
“Would you just listen to me?” Eddie pleads, voice tight and stressed as he speaks.
“You didn’t even bother to consider how I would feel, Eddie.” You reply, speaking his name out into the empty room. He tenses, hand flying over your mouth abruptly.
You realize how risky it was, speaking so openly. There’s a small tinge of regret and a look of apology as you push his hand away, hating the way his touch lingers against your fingertips. “I’m not transferring—I have no problem ignoring you, if that’s what you want. But, you’re not going to fuck with my classes.”
Eddie knows there’s no getting through, no forcing you out of his class or his life, and if you could ignore it all, why couldn’t he?
“You can speak now.” You tell him, feeling satiated by how hard he took your words, seemingly backed into a corner.
“I don’t think you’d listen anyways.” And it doesn’t come off harsh, at least you don’t take it that way. It’s factual, you could genuinely care less. The anger had dissipated slightly, but it was still brimming, begging to spoil over if he made one wrong move.
It was a shame how easily it turned him on—which was proving his point exactly, he couldn’t stand to be around you like this.
“Probably not.” You agree, watching the crisp sheet of paper crumple in his hands, but it’s really not enough.
You pluck the paper from his grip, ripping it in half, turning it once, then ripping it again. It sent the message you wanted to be received.
Fuck his ultimatum.
“Are we done here?” You ask lightly, torn pieces floating to the trash as you release them.
“Uh—yeah,” Eddie replies quietly. He seems deflated at the failed attempt, “we’re done.”
He watches you leave wordlessly, wondering how badly he fucked himself over now.
—
“There’s no way,” Max argues, twisting the towel in her long fiery, wet hair, “Eddie isn’t like that.”
“What? Rude?” You ask, legs crossed as you reclined back on your tiny twin bed tucked in the corner of your shared dorm room. “I take back what I said the other day—he’s an asshole.”
“You didn’t even tell me what happened,” Max points out, eyes staring back expectantly, “—just that something did and then you did that thing where you go quiet and pretend I’m not seven feet away from you every night.”
The silence drags, curling in on yourself as Max stares you down.
“Was it that bad?” Max asks softly, tossing the towel into your shared laundry basket before timidly stepping your way, squeezing herself on the bed beside you. “Did he hurt you?”
You shake your head in amusement, not that you knew Eddie well, but he didn’t seem to hold that type of anger or resentment toward most people.
“I have no problem burying a body with you, you know that.”
“Oh my god, Max—it’s fine.” You insist, her eyes still watching you intently, nothing but absolute honesty shining through her features.
“So you had sex and then he asks you to transfer from his class?” She assumes, trying to piece it all together.
“We didn’t even have sex.” You admit, the words sticking to your tongue in a weird way, leaving a taste in your mouth that you couldn’t describe. “I’ve just never—look, it’s not a big deal. I’m just annoyed.”
“Annoyed because you like him? Or annoyed because he tried to kick you out of his class?”
It was a fair point and you couldn’t deny the sentiment you shared for both.
“You’re so predictable.” Max laughs, pushing herself from the bed and toward her own, digging through her pile of papers scattered over her unmade bed. “Anyways, here—“
It’s a card, covered in felt cartoon balloons and plastered with ones. It was an invitation to a birthday party—Nancy had told you about it, you vaguely remembered.
“Steve really wants you to go,” Max pushes at the subject gently, “But, Eddie’s probably going to be there—“
“I’m still going,” You assure her, “He can get over it.”
Max smiles wide, glad to have you back to your full unashamed self.
“Remember, I’m always a call and a shovel away.”
—
Class is dreadful to say the least. Eddie is so painfully bothered by your presence that it rubs off on you, letting it slip through your expression and remarks in class, more than you liked.
There’s a heated debate going on, about cadence and how the pace of a song can affect someone’s mood or anxiety and it’s flurry of words, people trying to interrupt every chance they could, and it’s mostly harmless until you finally decide to speak up against the crowd, interrupting Eddie’s response—and he really doesn’t appreciate it.
“I’d really appreciate it if you'd raise your hand.” He remarks, lying to himself. He didn’t care, he just wanted to see your expression fall, it surely did.
“How is that fair?” You ask, voice up an octave in disbelief, “No one else has.”
“You had something new to input, no?”
“Well, yeah—“
“Then?”
You scoff, slumping back in your seat in defeat, whatever tangible thought you had now gone.
“Fucking prick.” You mumble under your breath.
And he definitely hears that.
—
In the midst of all the hate, you remember the music that Eddie was kind enough to let you borrow, stuffed underneath your bed in a dark corner.
You are almost hesitant to keep it for yourself, willing to bet he didn’t have the courage to ask for it back, but as much as you hate to see his face, you’re also desperate to bother him as much as humanly possible.
Get under his skin and drive him mad.
“Hey, do you still have that dress?” Max turns to you with a contorted look on her face, suspicious at your sudden question.
“The black one that has that slit on the side?”
“Yeah, the one that cuts really low in the front.”
“Babe,” She says endearingly, “What are you up to?”
“Just hand it over.” You demand, making a small grabbing motion with your hand as Max sifts through her closet for the supposed article of clothing.
And you don’t feel the need to get too dolled up, but it’s important to play the part, pulling your hair back to show off more skin than necessary, the sleek black material clinging to your body perfectly, cut low enough that your breasts peak out middle, scandalous enough that even Max was blushing, averting her eyes in the other direction.
“It's yours,” She relents, motioning to your figure, “that thing has never looked that good on me.”
“I’ll be back in twenty.”
Max doesn’t question it, because deep down, she knows—and poor Eddie, but he deserves every bit of the karma he has coming for him.
At least you’re smart enough to forgo heels, deciding that your worn out converse were, while not stylish, still practical in your trek across campus, cold autumn pricking at your skin. It seems childish in hindsight, but all the more worth it as the sun sets, hoping to catch him at just the right moment.
When you do finally manage your way inside the music study hall, he’s shoving the key to his classroom into the doorknob, preemptive in his escape off campus, even if he still had another hour before he was technically unavailable. He seems impatient and eager, ready to bolt out of the building as soon as possible.
“Eddie,” You call out desperately, his head whipping in your direction, his normally pulled back hair flowing against his shoulders, “wait.”
He looked too good like this, perfectly tailored slacks and his shirt loose, unbuttoned and relaxed for the day, you could even see the guitar pick hung around his neck on the dainty chain, something you didn’t notice he wore underneath the disguise of what he was trying to be, covering up for what he actually was.
“It’s late.” He notes, eyes racking over your body unashamed, and that does nothing to ease the ache that fills your cunt at the sight of him. It truly was unfair how easily he affected you.
“Sorry—I forgot about these,” You held up the culprit in your hands, remembering how insistent Eddie had been about getting them back—you could still feel the grip of his fingers as they dipped into your skin, “didn’t want you thinking I was trying to steal them.”
Eddie sighs softly in defeat, unlocking his door and swinging it open in one swift motion. You smile cheerfully, slipping past his tall frame, noticing how quick he is to scoot away from your body, desperate to create as much space as possible.
“Jesus,” You laugh, “I’m not gonna bite you.”
And maybe that wasn’t entirely true.
“Can you hurry?” He asks, voice clipped and rough, he looks exhausted, rubbing his free hand over his face lazily. “I need to get home.”
You’re almost disappointed in the way he doesn’t care, doesn’t even flinch at the view of your breasts as you lean down to place the music back on its shelf—but it’s because he won’t make eye contact with you, eyes locked to the chipped linoleum floor like glue.
“Sorry,” You apologize, traveling the expanse of the room until you’re standing in front of him, leaving him no other option but to look at you, even if it’s only briefly, “didn’t want you more pissed at me than you already are.”
Eddie scoffs at that, leaning himself against the doorframe slightly, blocking your escape—not that you wanted to. He glances down at your shoes, making a small noise of amusement as his eyes travel up, stopping raptly at your breasts before landing on your face, a forced, but sweet smile waiting to greet him.
“Going out tonight?” Eddie asks harmlessly, you shrug.
“I was thinking about it.”
“It’s a Tuesday.”
“And?”
It’s not like he knew your schedule—not that you would be caught dead at any type of party or bar at this time of night, this early in the week.
“This isn’t going to work.” Eddie says smugly, pointing at your figure casually.
“What are you talking about?” You ask, acting chops not nearly up to par as they used to be, but it’s slightly believable.
Eddie’s tried everything to avoid this—being alone with you, in close proximity, no obstacles to hold himself back.
“Eddieee,” Your voice sings, realizing his wandering eyes and lack of attention, when they lock back on yours it’s palpable—like he knows he’s been caught.
You can’t be bothered to care what he thinks anymore, grabbing his idle and occasionally clenched hand in your grip, pressing it against your sternum, his palm flat against your skin. Your heart is racing under his touch, he can feel it. But, your boldness is still striking, surprising Eddie.
“You can touch, you know?” You tell him, voice soft and welcoming as his fingers pull in slightly, grazing your touch starved skin.
“Stop.” He pleads, but his hand doesn’t leave, not right away.
“What?” You ask softly, “Don’t like being teased?”
And if he wasn’t onto you before, he is now.
He finds the dip in your chest, finger skimming down the line until it rests just about your bellybutton. Your stomach sucks in at the feeling, watching as his fingers lingers, not moving an inch. When you look up at him he’s smiling; smug and annoying and so punchable.
He’s so close—and you want so badly for him to give in, slip his hand underneath the lip of the dress and take you right there, with his fingers, or his mouth, or his dick, it didn’t matter. You hiccuped at the thought, flooding with ache as he pulled his hand away, shoving it into his pocket.
“Don’t play a game you can’t win.” He retorts, your shoulders sagging in defeat. “It’s a nice dress, though—I’ll give you that.”
“Oh, fuck you.” You bite at him, shoving past his body to force yourself out of his classroom, whatever nugget of a plan you had left was gone and it all seemed pointless.
He doesn’t try to hold you back this time, but you can’t be bothered to care.
—-
“I didn’t bring a gift,” You pout petulanty, staring at Max with somber eyes, “—I can’t just walk in there without one.”
“Steve won’t care.” Max assures you, “It’s Steve.”
The man who would throw himself in front of a bus to protect any of you, always treating you just as loved as his own kids. You’ve only seen them in pictures, but Steve felt like a stranger now, and it had your body thrumming with nerves.
You arrive at the house, flooded with distant memories—it was his parents' place, the large and overwhelming home always a refuge for you and your friends when you were much younger and naive. It made you frown, thinking about how you left this place behind; left everyone else behind, besides Max—but even that was a sore subject sometimes.
And he’s standing next to a flurry of little children, running around him in circles asking for rides and desperate little arms reaching toward him in desperation. It’s amusing, a smile pulling at your face. It was something Steve had always wanted and he finally had it.
“Oh my god,” His voice cuts through the music and screaming kids, catching your expression, “She’s alive!”
“Eh,” It’s a noise of uncertainty, not sure if that was all entirely true—you were barely scraping by most days, college stretching you as thin as you could go, “that’s debatable.”
He pulls you in for the type of hugs that remind you of family; familiar and warm, his arms enveloping you and squeezing tight. You let it set, arms crossed tightly over his back as he murmurs something into your hair.
“I’m glad you came.” You smile sadly into the embrace, pulling away eventually at the sound of a much too familiar voice.
“Harrington,” Your temporary bliss was ruined, turning on your heels to watch an energetic and boisterous Eddie walking your way, a toddler hanging on his hip, “found a straggler.”
Your eyes search around desperately, trying to grasp at any excuse to escape off elsewhere, but everyone’s already preoccupied and Max is nowhere to be seen—meanwhile Nancy and Robin are manning the snack station, keeping an eye out for the sugar-filled kids diving back for their fourth and fifth plate.
It amazes you how easily Steve managed to keep up with it all.
“Sorry,” He apologizes, reaching for his son, a tiny spitting image of himself, freckles and goofy grin as he pulled at Eddie’s curly hair, yanking until Eddie gave in and tilted his head toward the child, “here, hand ‘em over.”
“He’s okay,” Eddie assured him, letting the kid ravage his hair with no complaints, enjoying the loud burst of giggles as he pinched playful at the toddler’s stomach, screeching excitedly, “aren’t you, buddy?”
“He can’t talk yet,” Steve points out, watching his toddler stare back in wonder, “—hey, have you met Eddie?”
There’s a tense, shared look between you both before you answer Steve at the same time.
“Yeah—“
“Unfortunately—“
It slips out unwillingly, hate bleeding through your thoughts and spilling out of your mouth. Steve gives you a look—the kind that would definitely come back to bite you later when Steve wanted to be nosey, but he pushed it aside for now.
“Well, I guess there’s no need for introductions,” He decides, finally grabbing his son from Eddie’s grip, much to the young child’s protest, grasping at Eddie’s tie in the process, sending it slightly askew, “where did you meet?”
“Uh—The Hideout, about a month or so ago.” Eddie replies, saving you the struggle of explaining anything to Steve. “Max brought her to one of my shows.”
“Oh,” Steve answers, feeling a small tinge of shame, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it that night—you know how it is.”
“Dude, you’ve got your hands full.” Eddie laughs lightly, “I get it.”
There’s a lingering pause of silence, eyes lingering on Eddie’s disheveled appearance, still half-dressed in his uniform, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, slacks wrinkled from wear. It was a wonder he’d even show up like this, always seeming pretty adamant about separating his work life from everything else.
“Got any beers?” You finally ask, cutting through the awkwardness.
“Uh, yeah—in the fridge.” Steve answers, wrestling the toddler on his hip who was becoming more restless than yourself. “You remember?”
You nod, bidding Steve a quick wave before excusing yourself, taking a long breath of relief when you are finally alone.
The sip of alcohol is a relief, leaning against the large countertop island, kitchen empty for the most part—most of the crowd was outside, wrangling and chasing the other kids around, attempting to keep the children under control.
It isn’t until Eddie’s pressing in behind you that you acknowledge his presence, jumping away in fear, having been so consumed in your own thoughts that you didn’t even hear him walk up.
“Jesus, fuck—“ You curse, hand clasped over your rapidly beating heart, eyes closing briefly to calm yourself, “Warn a girl?”
Eddie snorts to himself, ignoring your complaint. The fridge door rattles open and he turns his back to you fully, reaching down to grab a beer for himself.
“Scared of me or something?” Eddie teases lowly, beer can cracking through the silence as he opens it, taking one long, slow sip as he stares you down, gaze so scrutinizing it makes you shiver.
“Should I be?” You asked flippantly, face drawn up in annoyance.
This was ridiculous—all the underlying pettiness and jabs. It would be easier to just forget about him completely, but he seemed unavoidable now, forcing himself into your daily life like a bad habit you couldn’t break.
“Steve seems happy to see you.” Eddie notes, turning to you fully, forearm resting against the island. He kept his distance this time, unlike at the bar—still, he was within arms reach, which was all the more frustrating. And his stupid fucking tie, still sitting lopsided around his neck.
“Please fix your tie,” You beg, the obvious lack of care he had for it was driving you insane, “it looks horrible.”
“It’s not bothering me.” He admits casually, shoulders shrugging slightly.
Your eyes are burning holes into his chest, stuck on nothing but the lousy piece of material. Eddie noticed, making a last ditch effort at driving you nuts if this happened to be the last time he ever saw you outside of school—he hoped it was, he surely couldn’t take much more of it.
“If you’re going to keep staring at it, just fix it.” Eddie tells you, moving close enough that you don’t have to lean over, arms flung out to his side to avoid touching you, head tilted back slightly to give you better access.
You wasted no time, yanking him roughly by the tie until he was settled between your widened legs, his own expression pulling up at the boldness, maneuvering him where you needed him.
And maybe he should’ve expected it, challenging you like that—but for what it’s worth, your touch isn’t sensual or aggressive in nature, just pure and genuine need to fix his horrible tied tie and finally put yourself out of the misery of having to look at it.
It was a reminder to you that even though Eddie might seem like he has his shit together, he’s still barely stitched together at the seams, just like you. He was trying to survive, live, make something for himself—teaching wasn’t his first or second career path, but it was all he had to grasp onto right now. Unfortunately, he was already fucking that up for himself to, indulging in things he never should have. He should steer clear of you, he should act like you don’t exist, but now his breath is ghosting over the outside of your hands as you construct the tie properly, explaining as you go in soft, monotone voice—he’s never heard it before.
“Where did you learn?” Eddie asks suddenly, face tilted down toward your hands, his mesmerizing brown eyes glancing up toward your face, holding your gaze. You didn’t try to cross your legs to satiate the ache, it was there, suffering in silence as you tried to push through.
“Are you asking because you want to know? Or because you’re trying to be friendly?”
Eddie shrugs slightly, “Both.”
“I know a lot of things, Eddie.” You decide on, not giving into his weak attempt at being civil with you. “It doesn’t matter where I learned them.”
You pat his chest firmly, admiring your work. He’s never had anyone do it for him and do it well, even Wayne’s halfhearted attempt fell short, as much as he tried. He went to prom without a tie that night, but it was probably for the best anyways.
His chest rises in an intake of breath, your hand lingering against the material for a moment too long—it was almost identical to the position you were in yesterday, completely unprompted. You can’t bare the idea of looking up at him, knowing how hard his gaze was set on you.
“Look—“ The word lingers in the tension thick air, charged and brimming with whatever forces Eddie to graze your thigh with his free hand, dragging against the exposed skin lightly.
“Hey, there you are—“ Max rounds the corner quickly, interrupting whatever was still lingering between you two.
She’s got that smug look on her face, eyes lighting up in excitement on the prospect of finally being right, knowing just how hard it was for you two to resist each other.
“Oh,” She stammers, quickly looking away when Eddie turns on her, shoving enough space between you that it couldn’t have been more obvious of the compromising position she’d just found you both in, “sorry for interrupting.”
She’s swift, grabbing a few drinks and shoving them into the book of her arm, but not subtle at all in the way she glances between you both, failing to hold back the small laugh that escapes her.
“Don’t forget, this is a children’s party.”
If Eddie could pass out from embarrassment, he would’ve.
“You told her?” Eddie spits out in a harsh, hard tone when Max is far enough away.
“She’s my best friend!” You defend, “I’m living with her, I can’t just hide it—she knows you, Eddie.”
“You said you could keep this shit a secret.”
“What? Your one little slip-up?” You taunt, hard facade lifting back up—whatever soft, endearing feeling that had started to spill over was no longer, now replaced with that same bit of rage you had toward him previously. “You think that because you shoved your hand down my pants in your car that we have something going on? You can’t even own up to your own fucking mistakes.”
Though, he never said you were a mistake; not to your face. Still, he can’t help but stare, inraptured by your rage and how clearly pent up you were, something simmering underneath it all.
“I’m not some fetish.” You warn him.
“Neither am I.” He answers back just as quickly, wondering where the sudden outburst surfaced from. “Are you trying to shift the blame on me?”
“I’m the student,” You snap, “isn’t that how this works?”
Truthfully, it was hard to see him any other way than just Eddie—but as he stood in front of you now, still buttoned up and far too proper for a child’s birthday party, it was a painful reminder. This was so, so wrong.
“Screw this shit,” Eddie says defeatedly, tossing the still nearly full beer can in the sink and shoving past you, out to the backyard.
—
“You’re leaving?” Steve asks, rushing up to you.
You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t keep yourself together, not here. “Yeah—look, I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no—it’s fine.” Steve assures you, seeing the mix of pain and frustration cross your face, “just—don’t be a stranger, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I promise.” You tell him, honestly clear on your face. He could see that something was wrong, he wasn’t that oblivious—but he wasn’t going to push it.
“Just—go easy on him.” He says, nodding toward Eddie’s departing figure.
Your eyebrows pull together in surprise, “Huh?”
“Come on,” Steve chuckles lightly, “you two are so obvious.”
It seemed like everyone knew but the both of you, which terrified you—Eddie had amazing friends, clearly; they were yours too.
Eddie’s halfway down the block, nearing his van hat’s parked in the dark, deadend alcove of the street, when your footsteps come clambering his way, nearly backing him into his own door, nothing but adrenaline and blind instinct running through your body.
“Eddie—“ You say strongly, pulling at his sleeve, forcing him to turn to face you. He’s stoic, face void of emotion, but it speaks volumes. “I wasn’t finished.”
He squeezes a fist, desperate to hold back whatever small amount of restraint he has left, but there is none.
“I meant it—” Eddie spits back, grabbing your wrist tightly as he shoved you against the side of his van, hand traveling up to your throat in a tight grip, forcing you to stay where you are, “fuck this.”
You open your mouth to fit in your last word, but Eddie doesn’t even give you the chance to speak, other hand fisting in your hair as he kisses you—teeth and tongue and anything but sweet and careful, like he wanted to devour you on the spot. You can’t stand the power imbalance, hand coming up to push back, wrapping around his own neck, nails digging into the sensitive skin around his jaw, sure to leave lingering marks for everyone to see—but you couldn’t find it in you to care.
You’re thankful for the privacy, can shielding you both from view—you could only imagine how bad this looked.
You moan openly, unashamed and loud at the way he’s forcing you back, knee shoved between your thigh, pressed firmly against your aching cunt, skirt riding up in the process. The hand that’s twisted in your hair comes to cover your mouth, squeezing slightly to muffle your filthy noises, bound to wake the entire neighborhood if you keep up like this.
Eddie pulls back suddenly, yanking at the freshly tied tie around his neck, ruining all the diligent, hard work you’d put into making it look perfect, balling the material up and holding it against your mouth, waiting wordlessly for you to open. You want to argue, but he’s clearly not in the mood, either—one goal in mind.
“Don’t make a sound,” He says, jaw tense as he presses against you, lifting up the front of your skirt to slip his hand over the front of your underwear, middle finger dragging against your clothed cunt, a small patch of wetness already noticeable from the manhandling, “got it?”
You nod feebly, opening your mouth to let the fabric slip through, biting down lightly—perfect timing as Eddie shifts his hand inside of your underwear, sinking a finger inside of you, the thickness of them a welcomed feeling as your cunt clenched around the digit in desperation.
He’s not kind or gentle in his movements, starting at a steady, rough pace as you gave in, leaning against his van for support, still pressed against the hard line of his body.
You want to tell him it’s not enough—you need more, want more. But, it hangs on your tongue, muffled by the fabric. You whimper, his wet fingers dragging out to rub against your clit furiously, hand shooting down to grab his wrist.
Eddie doesn’t appreciate it.
“Want more, don’t you?” He asks, pulling away from you, yanking his arm out of your grasp. “Answer me.”
You nod quickly—and he’s dropping to his knees on the hard, gravel covered pavement; no doubt those khaki slacks would be ruined for the rest of eternity, but he was risking that, for you.
He’s determined, slipping your panties down your bare legs, tucking the material into his pocket, which should turn you on as much as it did, but the thought is interrupted by a tap against your thigh, “Up.” He tells you, helping you rest you leg over his shoulder, giving him a perfect view of you, “—oh, she’s fucking soaked, isn’t she?”
Another weak nod, the small tinge in your cunt hitting you deep in your stomach, the ache radiating through your entire body. You couldn’t explain it, Eddie just had that effect—-through his words and actions.
“Come here.” He mumbles, canting your hips up, hands coming around to cover your bare ass, forcing you against his face, pussy slotting over his mouth perfectly.
And you can’t believe you’ve ever deprived yourself of this experience, suddenly addicted to the feeling. You’ve felt it in dreams, wondered, hope that it would be as good—it was better, so much better.
You cry against the fabric as Eddie licks broadly, through your folds until he reaches your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive nub, before his lips close over to suck, nearly knocking you on your ass completely if it weren’t for his hands holding you steady.
“Don’t come,” He instructs—it feels like a punishment, it probably is—but you’re not going to argue, not when he was making you feel this good. “okay?”
You murmur a soft noise of acknowledgement, hands slipping into the hair at the crown of his head, using the momentum to rock his face against you, his tongue dipping inside you at the movement, nose bumping your clit.
He’s relentless, hands squeezing at whatever skin he could reach, desperate to consume every last drop of whatever you had to offer, eating you up like the starved man he was; you’ve never felt more vulnerable and that terrified you. You weren’t going to be able to last long, not like this—he wanted you to break.
You pulled the tie out of your mouth, panting in waves, “Fuck—I give up, I can’t—“ You gasp out softly, “Eddie—“
He subsides, allowing you a moment of relief as he pulls back, mouth looking obscene, covered in your wetness. He sees the look of desperation on your face, silently pleading.
“Get in.” He demands, pulling away long enough to shove you in the driver's side, forcing himself in after you, not giving you any room to escape before he’s pulling you back to him, settled over his lap roughly.
It’s nothing but grabbing hands and harsh, bruising touches as he grips your thighs, your waist, before settling on your face, cheeks pinched between his hand in a tight grip.
“This what you wanted?” He asks accusingly, squeezing at your ass, through the thinness of your silk skirt, the warm press of his fingertips enough to drive you insane. “I know it is.”
“I will shove that stupid fucking tie in your mouth if you don’t shut up.” You practically beg, grinding down roughly against his clothed dick, straining against the zipper of his slacks. Your threat is muffled by his mouth, fighting to overtake control, tongue slipping past your lips with too much ease, like you’d been waiting for this moment since you laid eyes on him.
You can’t believe you didn’t seize the opportunity sooner, a crime that someone with a mouth this good would keep it to themselves for so long, but he sounded much better like this—speechless aside from the tiny, pathetic grunts he let slip out.
“Gonna fuck you.” He seethes out, teeth clenched as you pull back on his hair, head tilting up to look at you.
Oh. Your head quirks to the side, tongue dragging over your top row of teeth teasingly, curling against the corner of your mouth to jut out slightly. “Blind confidence isn’t cute.”
But, you wanted him. God, did you want him.
His hand slips between the space against his slacks, rubbing over himself as he cups your cunt, bare and begging for him to sink into you, embarrassingly so.
“Bodies don’t lie.” He points out, pointer finger dragging up testingly through your folds. You shake your head in annoyance, but don’t make any effort to move his hand, “Don’t believe me?”
He yanks gently at your hand fisted in his hair, rubbing the flat of your palm against his dick, hard and hot under the material and you can feel yourself clenching at the thought of that fitting inside you—if only.
“So desperate to fuck me—fuck your teacher, is that it?” Eddie pushes further, using his own hand to help you start a steady rhythm as he ruts against your hand.
“You know I don’t look at you that way,” You insist, wishing desperately that he’d stop bringing it up, no matter how weirdly deviant it felt to be doing something morally wrong, “god—just shut the fuck up.”
Thankfully, he does, hand returning to your face to squeeze tightly, lips crushed against his in a messy, spit filled kiss. “Fuck.” You sigh, letting the small semblance of pleasure slip out, music to Eddie’s ears, better than any song he’s ever heard in his lifetime.
Eddie slams you back against his steering wheel, thin jacket doing nothing to save the bruise that would form the next morning, his fingers ripping hurriedly at that zipper in an attempt to rid you of more clothes, determined to do exactly what he told you he would—fucking you until you had nothing left to say.
“Cute,” He smirks, staring at the sheer matching top to your skirt, hardened nipples visible through the material. His hand slides up the length of your stomach, breath quickening by the second, his touch like a brand against your skin, “I didn’t think it would be this easy—guess you’re just that needy, huh?”
You yank harshly at the fabric bound in his grip, a small stutter of confusion from Eddie before you’re shoving the material in his mouth, his cheeks pinched between your fingers.
“Don’t. Fucking. Talk.” You stress, letting his eyes search your own. There wasn’t a twitch or waver in your gaze, all seriousness as he stared back at you, nodding like the poor, wrecked man he was. “Condoms?”
Eddie shakes his head furiously, but not in the way that he seemed adamant about not using one—he just didn’t carry them in his van. It’s just your luck.
You hesitate for half a second before throwing all sensible thinking out the window, pulling at the button of his slacks and untucking his wrinkled button up, the smallest groan of relief escaping him as you finally unzip his pants.
“You can fuck me,” You tell him, instructing him to listen to you carefully, “but I don’t want to hear a word from you, got it?”
He nods furiously, teeth clenching against the material.
It takes a bit of skillful movement to get his pants down his legs before he’s quickly pushing at his boxers, letting them slip low enough that he can spring his cock free, painfully hard and resting stiff against his stomach from the curled and compromised position he was in.
You pout playfully, “Cute,” Your voice is soft, pulling your top high enough that your breasts hang free, and he’s quick to shoot a hand out, but not quick enough to escape your grip, “Nuh uh.”
He’s annoyed, eyebrows deep set into his face as his eyes widen. “You don’t get to touch unless I say you can.”
Eddie never felt like this—so willing to comply with your orders, despite how badly he wanted to take you in the back of his van—it didn’t matter how, but he needed that control. Still, he gave it up for you, allowing you to take the anger out on him; in some ways, it helped him too.
He nods obediently, a gentle acknowledgment, letting his hands fall to your thighs lightly, thumbs caressing the flesh there, smoothing against the soft inner most part of your leg.
You lick your hand wet, which shouldn’t make his dick jump the way it does, but there’s no point in hiding his bashfulness now, intrigued by your crass way of handling this—you were on a goddamn mission. You take him in your hand firmly, giving his shaft a few short tugs, thumb grazing against the ruddy tip, spreading the small bead of precum down his shift, helping in the slick slide of your hand, filling the van with the intimate noises of your skin against skin and the barely audible grunts of satisfaction that Eddie couldn’t hold back.
You chortle softly, a small huff of amusement through your nose as you pull at his dick teasingly, noticing how entranced he was in both your hands and the way your breasts sat on your chest, just out of reach.
“What did you think, huh?” You ask teasingly, voice barely above a whisper, “Probably thought I was some soft, easy girl that would do whatever you asked—that’s what you want, right?”
Eddie shakes his head desperately, eyes squeezing shut on a tight tug at his dick, before you slide back down, squeezing at the base. “You like the easy ones, don’t you? All eager to let you fuck them?”
Another pitiful head shake.
“Good.” You say with fervor, leaning forward to mouth at his neck, shoving his hair to the side to allow better access. “I could get real kinky—call you sir, or is that too far?”
He mumbles something around the material, eyes desperately trying to convey emotion. You give him the benefit, slipping the piece out momentarily.
“Shit—call me whatever you want, just let me fuck you already.”
Most of it was harmless teasing, but Eddie was so inherently desperate that he’d agree to anything at this point. You stuff the tie back into his mouth, lifting your skirt until the material was bunched at your waist, perching forward to rub the soft tip against your folds, letting Eddie moan desperately at the sensation.
His cock slides in easily, cunt swallowing him down as you welcomed the stretch, clenching against the perfect grip you had on his dick as you moved slowly, sighing in relief.
“Fuck, it feels good, doesn’t it?”
Eddie nods jerkily, almost approvingly, his hands forcing your legs further apart, which you didn’t really mind—it helped him slip deeper, buried to the hilt inside of you, dick pulsing with each gentle squeeze of your cunt.
You start at a slow, excruciating pace, hips dragging up far enough that the tip of his cock almost slips out, before roughly slamming back down, your chest flushing a deep red from exertion.
He’s suffering deeply, squeezing at the back of your thighs in earnest, trying to meet your own hips as you sink down onto him, again and again—and he’s a wreck, moaning wantonly around the fabric, head lolling back from where it’s still held tight in your grip; he’s never felt so powerless, but he’s almost okay with it.
“This is your fault,” Your voice is strained, Eddie aiming for something deep inside of you as his hips worked against your, “all your fucking fault.”
Eddie practically whines, hands traveling up to squeeze at your hips, before slipping over the curve of your ass—he was terrible at following rules, but you couldn’t be bothered to care, not when he was staring at you so openly, a surge of pleasure shooting through your body as his eyes squeezed shut, cunt clenching down on him at a particularly deep thrust.
He’s shaking his head, holding back the words being forced down by the fabric—and you have a heart, but it’s with deep regret when you slip the fabric from his mouth, soaked with his spit and useless as you toss it to the sound, head titled just over his as he speaks to you.
“My turn,” He remarks snidely, demeanor switching on a dime, left hand twisting in the root of your hair until your neck was straining back, your chest presented perfectly in front of his face, his lips connected with the hardened bud of your nipple as he bites gently at the skin before moving to suck a deep purple bruise on the underside of your breast, revelling in the noises you let slip, a flurry of high pitched moans as he works you over, “so fucking needy, yeah?”
And you can’t answer, mouth hung on a noiseless gasp, your impending orgasm creeping up on you slowly—you could just end it all yourself right now, but where’s the fun in that?
“Not so cocky now,” Eddie chuckles softly, mouth sliding up your chest until it’s settled just above your own, the eye contact so personal it makes your heart palpate—whatever hate you’d had toward him dissipated, replaced with the blinding urge to let him ruin you, exactly how he wanted, “if I knew that fucking you would shut you up—I would’ve done it a lot sooner.”
“Eddie—“ You hiccup, hands clutched against his clothed shoulders in an attempt to keep you balanced and upright, the brutal pace of his thrusts threatening to knock you off balance.
Eddie quirks an eyebrow—and you know, you know exactly what he’s asking for, the wordless gaze testing your own patience.
“I’m not—not calling you sir, it’s not—not right,” You force out, feeling the familiar nudge of a thumb against your clit, his hands like home when they finally touch you, “—thought you hated—hated that word.”
“Not when you say it,” He smiles daringly, his hand unwinding from your have to caress you face, head pulling back in his grip, the pad of his thumb dragging over the soft pillowy skin of your bottom lip, “—don’t think I don’t know what you like being called, it’s so fucking obvious.”
His thumb pressed firmly, rubbing quick circular motions against your clit, pleasure threatening to spill over, but he’s pulling back just as your keen forward, stopping you in your tracks, “What the fuck?” You ask breathlessly.
“Beg,” His voice is rough, nearing his own desperate search for an end, “or I can make this a lot worse.”
And you can play along, “Please—“ You reply sweetly, his thumb dipping in your mouth to press against your tongue, widening your mouth open in punishment.
“Not good enough.” He replies, his warm, calloused hand traveling to the underside of your jaw, face squeezed between his grip—it’s bordering on painful, eyes welling up with tears.
“Fuck—please—please, sir,” His face lights up in both lust and amusement, the words spilling from your mouth shamelessly, “god—just let me come, please?”
“Good girl,” He remarks sweetly, the quick work of his thumb against your sensitive clit bringing you over the edge, hitting you hard and fast, “—fuck, look at you.”
Your eyes squeeze shut, too overwhelmed by the warm sensation that spreads through your body, moaning brokenly against Eddie’s lips, barely grazing your own as you work through your orgasm, cunt clenching down against his own cock—a sharp reminder that he didn’t have much self control to hold out any longer, moving you off of him with just enough time to wrap his hand around himself, coming against the exposed flesh of your stomach, head tilted down as he works through it, bottom lip pulled between his teeth in anguish.
It doesn’t last long though, the blissful peace interrupted by your own voice. “I should go,” You adjust yourself, cleaning up the mess with whatever piece of clothing Eddie hands you, “Max is probably waiting for me.”
“I can drive you—“ Eddie begins to offer, but you can’t be bothered to listen.
“You got it out of your system, right?” You ask rudely, “You don’t have to pretend to be nice to me.”
Eddie stays silent, watching you adjust yourself in his passenger seat until you look somewhat presentable, unlike you’d just been thoroughly fucked over his lap, his hands making a mess of your hair.
“What? Not a fan of one night stands or something?” You ask harshly, watching the way his face twitches in annoyance. “We had sex. We can forget about it now.”
But, of course—Eddie’s nagging voice in the back of head wouldn’t let him. He didn’t want to forget about it. You knew he was fighting with an internal battle of right and wrong—was it really worth it?
“It’s not that.”
“You know what,” You tell him, voice gripped on the door handle as you turn toward him, “when you can finally figure out what you want, let me know.”
He didn’t need the time to figure it out. Eddie knew what he wanted, unfortunately—it was you.
—-
Max doesn’t bring anything up on the drive back to your dorm, which you’re thankful for. She knows, you know she does. It doesn’t ease that complete and utter emptiness you feel after leaving Eddie, both of you defeated from your inability to accept the truth—you weren’t finished with him either.
And your heart nearly drops into your stomach when Eddie catches your arm at the end of class, a long week of sneaking glances at each other, failing miserably at trying to keep your mind occupied on anything else.
“Hold on,” he says softly, your school day nearing its end—you were exhausted and you wanted to curl up in your bed and spend the rest of your day being frustrated there, out of his proximity, “let’s talk.”
“Here?” You ask carefully, “Are you sure?”
“There’s that big game tonight—no one’s planning on sticking around.” Eddie explains, watching the flurry of students and staff exit the building through the window tucked in his classroom door, “I just need you to hear me out.”
For once, you find it in yourself to listen, walking slowly to perch yourself on his desk, hands tucked against each other as you wait, noticing how his hands flexed—he seemed anxious.
“If we do this, we have to be careful,” Eddie explains, he knew that wasn’t possible. “—I can’t lose my fucking job.”
You nod quietly—the ramifications were serious, you understood that.
“And it’s just casual,” He insists, “right?”
Did he really need your confirmation?
“Are you asking me or yourself?” You question, watching his shift closer, thigh leaned against the edge of his desk as he rested, looking down at your tightly clasped hands.
“Answer me.” It’s not demanding, the look in his eyes anything but.
“I’m not going to fall in love with you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You assure him, a smile pulling at your face—it’s the first time he’s seen it in a while, and he hates how it makes him feel; regretting every word that’s coming out of his mouth.
“And no special treatment,” He adds slyly, “I’m not passing you for sex, so don’t try it.”
“Are you sure?” You test him, finger reaching out to catch at the edge of his pants, pulling him gently until he gets the message, moving himself between your legs.
There’s a slight thrill that runs through you at the idea of getting caught.
“You haven’t let me suck you off yet,” You point out, “so you might want to withhold judgment on that.”
His hands move to rest on either side of you, flat against his desk as he leans in, perched forward, his eyes darkening at the admission, his face so close you could lean in and kiss him—you really wanted to.
“I can tell you’ve never been touched,” He says lowly, “At least, not the way you’ve always wanted to be.”
He could read you like a book, that was clear.
“Does that bother you?” You ask, breath ghosting over his face, his bottom lip pulling between his teeth in suspense, hanging on your every word.
Eddie nods his head slowly.
“A girl like you,” Eddie dotes, leaning forward to rest his lips against the shell of your ear, sending you into a full body shiver, “it’s a damn shame.”
“Want to know a secret?” You ask quietly, face blushing a deep shade of red as he crowded against you.
Eddie makes a small noise of approval, and idle hand slipping between the space of your thighs, squeezing gently. “Tell me.”
“That night in your van,” You take a pause, letting the silence linger, knowing that Eddie was brimming with anticipation, “I’ve never came before—not by someone else’s hand.”
Eddie’s hand grazes the seam of your jeans, cupping your front briefly, daring you to speak another word.
“I mean—my hands are great,” You laugh softly, “but yours—they’re so fucking good. You have no idea.”
“I guess I didn’t really take you for the type either,” Eddie notes suddenly, pulling back to look at you, eyes blinded with lust, “I didn’t even have to ask to fuck you raw, you wanted it.”
You nodded proudly, head tipping up as his fingers caught your chin, letting his other hand that gripped your thigh pull you closer, pressed firmly up against his groin, hard dick straining through his pants.
“Good girls don’t do that,” He whispers softly, “do they?”
You shake your head obediently, your own lip pulling in between your teeth. Your head tilts upwards under his grip, his eyes urging you to speak. You knew what he wanted to hear.
“No, sir”. You answer softly, and Eddie smiles devilishly.
“So we’ll make sure to be careful next time?”
Next time—you can feel your cunt clenching at the admission, nodding eagerly at his question.
Eddie laughs softly, “Good girl.” He comments for good measure, admiring the way your face lights up at his words.
And you wait, seeing if he’ll push it further; he doesn’t, enjoying the look of desperation he held you in, eyes never leaving your face.
“Can I kiss you?” It’s the last thing you expect from him, the normalcy in his tone, no malice or filthy intent behind the words.
“Please?”
He answers the question with his lips, pressing softly against your waiting mouth, tongue sliding over your bottom lip, mouth parting to let him in. It was nice to kiss him without the heat and anger that was there before, indulging in him just because you wanted to.
“Am I gonna regret this?” He asks against your mouth, hand sliding behind your neck to grip it firmly, fingers pressing into the skin.
“Definitely—and I still want my panties back, by the way.”
Eddie snorts into the chaste kiss he presses against your lips, “Not a fucking chance.”
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#my writing#1kfic
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hi bestie, could i please request either steve or eddie, whoever you're feeling more, smoking weed with their good friend f!reader and learning that she gets a major oral fixation when she's high? love your writing the absolute most!
author's note: look, i couldn't choose so you get both. i also don't write steve often so if this is horrible i'm sorry lol
cw: 18+ (minors dni), established friendship, steve is a little clueless, smoking/getting high, threesomes, oral fixation (sorta, i lost focus pretty quick lol), oral (f & m receiving), mentions of steddie, lots of kissing and teasing each other, if i missed anything lmk!
word count: 5k
Steve wasn’t supposed to be here—not that you cared, but it was a surprise when you walked through the door that night and he was settled on Eddie’s living room couch, shoes left by the door and his sock covered feet plopped up on the cushion that separated him and Eddie. You can’t even imagine the conversation you interrupted when they both stare at you wide-eyes, like Eddie forget to mention to Steve that you were coming over—or that possibly, he forgot about you coming over at all.
It wasn’t a weekly thing, but Eddie would pick a few random nights out of the month to smoke with you and watch a couple movies—you’d knew each other since grade school, when Eddie had much less of a mane than he did now and wasn’t nearly as intimidating to people. Not that he could ever seem that way to you, it was impossible.
“Oh, hey—” Eddie breathes, fingers tapping absently against the arm of the couch where his arm was slung over, knee tucked up under his forearm, his foot planted firmly against the cushion. He was dressed down, a plain black shirt and similarly colored sweatpants. Steve still had on his work uniform, pinned name tag stuck to his vest, “Steve’s here.”
You smile slightly, closing the door shut behind you and tossing the small bag on snacks on his cluttered kitchen counter. “I see that.” You nod, making eye contact with the culprit, Steve looked severely out of place, “Steve.”
“I should go, right?” Steve asks wearily, finger pointing toward the front door. “I feel like I’m interrupting something—“
“No, it’s fine.” You assure him, “I just—“ A small laugh bubbles from your chest, “since when does Steve Harrington smoke weed?”
“Hey—I’ve smoked before,” Steve defends, “I mean, my parents would kill me if they found out about it, but I have a few times.”
You glance over at Eddie, his face riddled with amusement.
“He’s a crowd smoker, isn’t he?”
“A what?”
“You only smoke around groups because everyone else is doing it—but to answer that question,” Eddie looks at you with a narrowed gaze, “he’s not.”
“Oh?”
You’re intrigued, you couldn’t help it—hanging out with Steve had never been on your agenda, but it wasn’t the worst possible scenario.
“We’ve smoked a few times before,” Eddie explains, “like, once or twice.”
“So, you’re cheating on me with Harrington?” You feign the shot to your ego, hand pressed against your chest as you leaned against the counter, still a large distance from the two boys.
They looked comfortable, at ease—despite your steady friendship with Eddie, you didn’t realize just how close him and Steve had become. You’ve only tagged alone to Family Video a few times with Eddie, figuring most of it was just polite small talk, but it all makes a lot more sense now.
“I could never,” Eddie smiles, reaching for the blunt tucked securely behind his ear, flipping it through his fingers, “anyways, are we gonna start a game of twenty one questions or—“
“Wayne’s gonna kill you if he finds out you smoked on his couch.” You remind him.
“Obviously—“ Eddie retorts, “that’s why we’re moving this to the bedroom.”
You grimace in subtle disgust, “God, why do you say it like that?”
“It’s a special place,” Eddie replies dramatically, “where all the magic happens.”
Steve looks up at you, eyes wide but soft, lips down-turned in a slight frown, “Is he always like this?”
“With me?” You ask redundantly, “Yes.”
Not that you minded any of it, Eddie was probably the only person that could get away with talking to you in such a manor that didn’t make you immediately want to vomit.
Eddie always called it the Munson charm, whatever that was.
Steve coughs through the first couple of drags, not allowing the smoke to reach his lungs properly. It was like watching a baby try to stand on it’s own for the first time and Steve was severely out of his element.
“Have you been letting him smoke like this?” You ask Eddie, eyes widened in shock. Eddie shrugs, pressing the joint to his lips. “You’re a terrible friend.”
“I could shotgun him,” Eddie jokes lightheartedly, “but I don’t need him falling in love with me.”
“Like, when you shotgun a beer?” Steve asks curiously, eyes watching your movements carefully, lips closing around the joint and breathing in deep, chest heaving at the action. His look lingers down the valley of your chest before quickly averting back to your eyes, “I’ve done that before.”
You and Eddie both share a similar laugh, glancing over at Steve with amusement, Eddie offers a soft, “Uh—close, but not really.”
“Not close at all.” You shake your head, looking at Eddie with bemusement. “Steve, have you actually been able to get high? I mean, do you ever feel anything?”
“Well, there was that one time—“ Steve doesn’t elaborate, eyes turned up toward the ceiling as he thought, head tilted slightly, “but that wasn’t weed.”
Your mouth hung open slightly, watching Steve chew at his bottom lip, “I’m not even gonna ask,” You respond, glancing over at Eddie, “—wanna demonstrate?”
Eddie smiles widely, “My pleasure, sweetheart.” Eddie rests his hand on the side of your face, joint shoved between his lips as he breathed in the smoke before carefully holding it off to the side, using the leverage he had on your face to squeeze your mouth open, blowing the smoke into your own mouth, laughing airily as his tongue grazed your own.
Steve couldn’t do anything but stare, eyes glazed over in astonishment as he watched the exchange, both of you pulling back with a satiated smile.
“How have we never done that before?” Eddie asks curiously, pulling back with a subtle pout.
“Because, you disgust me.” You smile, lying through your teeth. You couldn’t openly admit how quickly your mind drifted elsewhere when you got this high, how easily a simple touch could drive you crazy.
Eddie was handsy like this, always finding a reason to cuddle up against you or kiss you lazily—and you didn’t try to stop him, but it was very few and far between that you actually allowed it. You were good at burying it away, offering a small peck or closed-mouth kiss in return, but even that was maddening. If it went further, Eddie would call it out immediately—he had no problem teasing you about it.
“Here, do Harrington.” Eddie suggests with a snide smirk, watching as you rolled your eyes annoyance.
You turned to a curious Steve with a small, comforting smile and mirrored Eddie’s actions, pressing the joint to your lips and grabbing at Steve’s face, which he welcomed easily, tilting his neck slightly as your palm curved around the underside of his firm jaw. You could feel the prickle of stubble against your fingertips, something that sent a surge of excitement through your body despite how hard you tried to ignore it.
“Do I just—“ Steve stammers, quickly interrupted by a head shake from you, pressing your lips to his fully, blowing the smoke into his mouth, a small noise escaping his throat in response, tongue grazing against your top lip accidentally as he pulled away, “—fuck, sorry.”
Eddie can see it on your face when you pull away, swallowing hard as you watched Steve lick his chapped lips, blurting out a, “No fuckin’ way.”
“What?” Both you and Steve respond in unison.
“That’s why you don’t want me kissing you?” Eddie asks, a snide smirk pulling at his face.
“Eddie,” You warn, “shut up.”
Steve eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, watching the exchange between you two.
“Let’s do it again.” Eddie urges, knowing exactly the type of reaction he would get if you let him, “One more time.”
“No.” You grumble, ignoring the immediate interest your body has in the matter.
It wasn’t that you didn’t find Eddie attractive, that wasn’t the case at all—but you and Eddie had always been careful about crossing that line. However, Eddie wasn’t the one who wanted that, it was you. He’d pounce on you in a heartbeat if you allowed it, and frankly, your judgement was skewed at the moment.
“Just the one,” He begs, “and I’ll leave it alone.”
It was a dangerous move to make and you blamed your lack of hesitancy on the high that was creeping in, huffing out a long sigh before waving him forward.
“Fine.” You grumble, an eager Eddie already poised to lean forward. Steve doesn’t know where to look, feeling like he might be intruding, but he watches on anyways.
Eddie presses his lips against yours fully, with all the confidence he can muster, tongue dragging along yours slowly, smoke forgotten about as it seeps through the cracks, bellowing out of his nose as he initiates the kiss. You moan brokenly, eyes falling shut as you played into his game, unable to help yourself. It was just too good.
“Sweetheart,” Eddie says lovingly, pulling back for a brief moment, “you’ve been keeping secrets.”
“Am I missing something?” Steve asks, breaking through the tense silence that had developed between you and Eddie, your eyes glaring pensively into his own.
Eddie chuckles deeply, passing the joint to Steve, “I never really noticed until just now—“ He points at you sparingly, “It’s only ever when we smoke that she acts that way and I didn’t think anything of it until I watched you two. I assumed you were just playing it up to mess with me—“
“I like being kissed when I’m high,” You offer bluntly, “or just like—my mouth gets really sensitive, I can’t explain it.”
“I think you just did.” Eddie remarks, offering a sickeningly sweet smile your way.
“Is that bad?” Steve asks, still partially confused. “I don’t see how that’s a problem?”
Eddie makes a noise of triumph, “See, Steve gets it.”
“I get it.” Steve agrees, hands motioning toward himself.
“Great—you’re both geniuses. Now, can we move on?”
Eddie was resilient though—and apparently, so was Steve. They both share a look, similar to what you walked in on earlier. Your eyebrows furrow slightly, glancing between the two of them.
“Hey—no, what was that?” You ask, finger wagging back and forth between the two of them briefly. You’re almost embarrassed to ask, afraid you might be overthinking things. “Wait, are you both, like—“
“No!” Steve responds quickly, clearing his throat to better compose himself, “No, uh—we’ve kissed before but that’s it.”
Something tells you that's a lie.
“Steve was asking if I’ve ever had a threesome.” Eddie interrupts, “I told him no—unfortunately, Steve forced himself into a tricky predicament and now he’s completely in over his head, aren’t you pretty boy?”
“Was I supposed to say no?” Steve asks, like the idea seemed ridiculous. “Who says no to that?”
“Lots of people,” You tell him, “—you don’t need to feel obligated because it’s some, like, rite of fuckin’ passage. That’s all bullshit.”
“I mean, I wanted to.” Steve assures you, “I still want to.”
You press further, “But?”
“I might’ve played it up,” Steve admits, “They’ve both never done it before and I told them I had some experience with it.”
“Steve,” You groan, covering your face with your hands in frustration, “oh my god—you know what, it actually makes total sense.”
“What?” Eddie asks.
“Why you two are friends,” You tell him, holding up your fingers to emphasize your point, “Clueless, full of yourself, and way too horny.”
“So, we’re just drifting over your whole oral fixation thing?” Eddie laughs, “Like that wasn’t just a few minutes ago?”
You clench your jaw, snatching the joint from Steve’s hands angrily and taking a long, deep drag. You weren’t high enough to deal with this, not yet.
“Then what the fuck was that look?” You ask, “Or are we keeping secrets now, Eddie?”
And there’s nothing he hates more than his own words being used against him, a saccharine smile spreading across your face.
“I told Steve I’d be down to help him practice, but that we’d need to find another participant,” Eddie shrugs, “kinda defeats the purpose of a threesome if you can’t find a third.”
“I might’ve brought your name up earlier,” Steve admits shyly, “I was just joking initially—but you walked in right after that.”
It all makes sense then, the weird look and tension that lingered when you stepped foot inside Eddie’s trailer. You could feel it now, but less uncomfortable—and you almost, almost propositioned them yourself. But no, you weren’t nearly as bold as either of them. Plus, with the high kicking in, you couldn’t help yourself.
“I’m not having sex with either of you,” You tell them firmly, and Eddie has the courage to laugh, plucking the joint from your fingers and snuffing it out in the ashtray at his bedside, “not in a million fuckin’ years.”
“Hey, woah—woah,” Eddie chides, “slow your roll, sweetheart.”
Eddie was wounded, but he didn’t show it.
Steve blinks heavily and you can see it on his face, the switch in his demeanor as the weed settles in.
“I just wanted to—I don’t know, test it out?” Steve shrugs, “Some kissing and stuff.”
“Unless you’re afraid to watch us kiss,” Eddie presses, “is that it? Is it too much for you?”
He’s only teasing, but it’s enough to make you retort in annoyance.
“Oh, like when you nearly busted in your pants after I made out with Chrissy Cunningham in front of you at that party last year?” You ask with a snark to your tone, “I can handle myself a lot better than you can, Eddie.”
Steve eyes you wearily, still looking ridiculous in his work uniform, the vest bunching up around his stomach where his shirt had ridden up from him laying out on his side against Eddie’s bed.
“So, is that a yes?” Steve asks hopefully.
“On one condition,” You tell him, “we never speak of this again.”
“Deal.” They both respond in unison, far too eager.
It feels like a fever dream, Steve leaning over you to reach for Eddie, meeting him in the middle of your lap. He’d finally took the vest off after some persuasion from you, striped cotton shirt riding up in his stomach, the few buttons it did have were completely unbuttoned and failing to hide that patch of chest hair hidden underneath. Eddie smiled into the kiss, the dimple in his cheek deepening at the emotion he showed, the familiar sense of giddiness spreading throughout his body.
You’re not sure what to do, where to look, until Eddie’s hand is squeezing at your thigh, over the material of your jeans, a reassuring pressure that reminded him that you were still a part of this—he wanted you to watch, as taboo as it was for you.
“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Eddie assures you, mouth still very much involved with Steve, both of there eyes shut in pure bliss as their mouths met at an unhurried pace, all tongue and sloppy cadence. “You can stare all you want.”
And you do it, falling back on your palms as Steve’s hands fell in front of himself, just between the space in your legs, your chest rising and falling with every slow breath you took, afraid to move, afraid to interrupt the moment—until Steve separates from Eddie without hesitation and pulls you to him, the heat of his palm spreading out across your cheek as he kissed you gently, less forced that with Eddie.
This was new to him, and you; he didn’t want to come on too strong and you appreciated that, but it wasn’t nearly what you were hoping for. You needed the intensity, all of it—if this was following you all to the grave, it was going to be worth it.
Eddie makes a noise, noting the frustration on your face.
He tuts, running his fingers gingerly through the back of Steve’s hair, “More, Harrington.”
You laugh softly against his lips, “Really, it’s okay—I don’t need you to hold back.”
“You sure?” Steve asks quietly, noses bumping together gently in the process, leaving slow, lingering kisses against your lips, the kind that had you chasing after him for another. “I can get a little, uh—“
“Intense?” You finish for him, “Even better.”
Steve chuckles at that, slipping his hands around your backside until they’re resting just underneath the curve of your ass, adjusting you gently until you’re laid out against the mattress, Eddie following along too as he sprawls out on his side, fingers drifting along the skin of your exposed stomach, shirt pulled up slightly in the process.
Steve follows through on his words, hand pulling at your thigh until it bracketed against his hip, tongue delving into your mouth without hesitation, alighting every nerve-ending possible, an audible moan slipping from your throat and into Steve’s mouth. He bucks his hips involuntarily through his movements, pulling at your hands until they’re locked above your head in his grip, freeing one of his hands to tip your chin up, kissing you until you can’t breathe, pulling away briefly to allow yourself the luxury, catching glimpse of Eddie’s relaxed state, palm rubbing at the front of his sweatpants lazily. Steve notices it too, glancing down with a soft laugh.
“You did say ‘and stuff’,” Eddie defends weakly, his idle hand still resting comfortably against the expanse of your stomach, a constant reminder of his presence—not that you could forget it, “don’t worry, I’ll keep it in my pants.”
“Don’t,” You tell him honestly, and Steve pulls back slightly, startled by your words, “—what? I said no sex, that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy all the other stuff.”
“Are you sure?” Steve asks for reassurance.
You nod, “I mean, I would be doing the same thing to you, but uh—“ You looked up to your joined hands and back down at him, “there seems to be a problem.”
“O-oh,” Steve responds quickly, releases your hands gently. You smile devilishly, hands fisted into the front of Eddie’s shirt to pull him closer, “can I touch you?” Steve asks, neither pleading nor begging, rather just checking in.
“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” You say admittedly, shifting your legs until Steve can shove his knee in the apex, Eddie’s lips becoming curious as they latch into your neck, “—hey, no marks.”
Eddie makes a small noise of disapproval, the flurry of his hair near your face smelling of cheap weed and old spice, “Touch her, Steve.” Eddie instructs, his wandering hands following the line of your body until they reach the button on your jeans, deft fingers working away to pop it open.
Your hands feel empty, jittery with anticipation and the only thing you can think to do is busy them, rubbing your open palm over the front of Eddie’s sweats, a noise of approval leaving his throat as his lips latch onto your neck. He ruts slowly, savoring the friction as his hand finds its way toward Steve’s thigh and over the front of his own jeans—Eddie knows exactly what Steve’s packing, unbeknownst to you and the smug grin on his face is obvious as his hands search and squeeze gently, a rough, throaty chuckle leaving Steve’s mouth as he kisses you once more. It’s deep and needy, teeth dragging against your bottom lip as his hands move in time, slipping over the front of your underwear, his fingers rubbing over the soft patch of wetness.
Steve eyes connect with yours in a look of knowing, mumbling a soft, “Yeah?” at the obvious state of your arousal.
“I told you it was a problem,” You say through a weak laugh that quickly turns into a gasp as Steve moves the fabric to the side and runs a finger through your folds, gauging your response, “I really can’t help it.”
“And thank god for that,” Eddie remarks, shoving Steve out of the way gently to pull your mouth to his, kissing you hungrily, tongue darting out towards yours in a challenge, begging you to chase him, “right, Harrington?”
You roll your eyes in annoyance, looking up at an amused Steve, his fingers working slowly against your cunt, careful touches until your face scrunches up in pleasure, finding just the spot he was looking for, “He talks too much, doesn’t he?” Steve asks with a flippant tone, glancing over at his friend who can’t be bothered to care, mouth dragging against yours as you pull away to speak, a soft moan slipping from your lips.
“Absolutely.” You nod slowly, gripping the front of Eddie’s jeans a little tighter, his cock throbbing underneath your touch.
“I know something that’ll keep my mouth busy,” Eddie hints, earning a skeptical look from you.
But, lines were already being crossed and you couldn’t be bothered to stop him, offering another nod his way.
“Fuck—go ahead,” You breath and Eddie pulls away swiftly, you glance up at Steve, watching as he tried to process what was happening, his own cock straining behind the zipper of his jeans, “come here.”
Steve shifts hesitantly on his knees, your fingers slipping past his waistband, pulling him the rest of the way.
“Oh, you don’t have to,” Steve interrupts, your fingers trailing over the bulge in his jeans, “I don’t really—“
“Steve,” You drag out, “I want to.”
“Are you sure?” Steve asks.
It’s endearing, how often he tried to check in with you—and maybe it’s his own nervousness doing the talking, but it’s comforting knowing that you weren’t the only one feeling as if you were losing your mind.
“It’s either your mouth, your fingers, or your dick—” You list off, shifting slightly as Eddie pulled at your jeans, interjecting with a snide, “I know what I’d chose.” You smile up at Steve, “You heard him, Harrington.”
And to be fair, you had a sense of Steve’s size, but it’s much more intimidating when he yanks at his jeans, underwear following suit until his cock was standing stiff in front of your face—and suddenly you’re jealous that you’ve shit on Steve’s flirting tactics for so long, because the confidence was absolutely justified. Eddie’s fingers squeeze at your thighs, bring you back to reality and to the realization of your bare cunt positioned in front of Eddie’s face—all weird and awkward tension completely dismissed when he smiles up at you, offering a teasing, “Go easy on her, big boy.”
Steve is just as unfiltered as Eddie in his actions and words, but while Eddie is the type to offer you constant praise and sweet remarks, Steve is nothing but a mess in his own mind, murmuring out a soft, repetitive, “Fuck, fuck,” as you mouth at the tip of his cock, tongue running along the slit to taste at the rivulet of precome resting there, the weight of his cock against your tongue driving you wild, a tinge of excitement running through your body as Eddie’s tongue flattens out over your sensitive clit, moaning from the over-stimulation.
You can’t help but stare up at Steve’s parted lips, plump and wet from how often he licked them, eyes solely focused on you as his hesitant hands came up to cup your face, fingers gliding into the hair at the base of your neck, giving him an unobstructed view as your cheeks hollowed out, mouth sinking down on him in languid strokes, leaning heavily on your elbow as you free hand reached up to cover what your mouth couldn’t reach. It only seems to spur Steve further, pleading eyes boring into his own—you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Steve nods, using the leverage he had to push his cool deeper until your eyes water from the force of it, pulling back with a strained gasp, wiping at your spit covered lips.
“Fuck, I’ve never—“ Steve sighs, “People always say it’s too much,” He’s not sure what he’s trying to say, but he’s staring down with intrigue, the gears turning in his head, “can you take more?”
Eddie’s working you up quickly, tongue flicking over your clit in hurried movements, using his hands to keep your thighs spread to the point of strain, muscles protesting the stretch. Your hand leaves Steve’s cock briefly, burying into the curls at the top of Eddie’s head, hips bucking up into his face selfishly.
Eddie shakes his head slightly, pulling away in punishment.
“Answer him, sweetheart.” He orders, “Don’t let me distract you.”
You give him an incredulous look, filling with a sense of rage at his stubborn, only interrupted when Steve’s fingers tapping at the underside of your chin, urging you to look up at him.
His eyebrows raise in question, earning a jerky nod in return, letting him guide his cock against your lips, his own hand gripped firmly at his shaft like he’s struggling to stave off his own orgasm, a small pout forming in his lips as he watched his cock slowly disappearing into your mouth until it’s just as deep again. You breath through your nose, a slow, deep intake as he pushes even further and holds you there, his head falls back, “Fuck—that’s so,” Steve lingers on the words, interrupted by Eddie’s never-ending comments.
“She likes the praise, Steve.” Eddie supplies, “No reason to hold back now.”
Steve nods absently, groaning out a broken, “Good girl,” and you swallow around him at that, pulling an even needy groan from his chest, “Oh, good fuckin’ girl.”
He pulls back suddenly, allowing you some relief before slipping back in, his hips moving eagerly into your mouth, hands still gripped firmly at the back of your neck as he fucks into your mouth just as you hoped for, taking as much as him as you could—even if it still wasn’t enough.
You can feel the deep pit of pleasure in your belly, thighs struggling against Eddie’s hold as you tip over the edge unexpectedly, moaning against Steve’s cock—and he’s not expecting it either, gasping out a desperate, “Where? Where can I—“
Steve’s never gone so far to come inside someone’s mouth without asking, but you don’t need to hear it, urging him along with your mouth, lips closing around him tightly as you work him over until he’s coming with a rough groan, pulling gently at your hair from the sheer force that his orgasm hits him, hips thrusting slightly as he rides it out, coming down your throat in long, thick spurts. It’s an afterthought to swallow as he pulls his dick out slowly, resting back on his calves and closing his eyes in exhaustion, letting go of your hair to rest his palms against the mattress.
Eddie looks up with a satisfied grin, having witnessed the exchange with a heated gaze, mouth still shining with your wetness and making him look insane as he laughed, “She’s a keeper, right?” Eddie compliments.
Steve nods dumbly, taking a deep breath as he speaks, “I’ve never came in anyone’s mouth before—that was…”
“Really?” You ask with a lilt to your voice, “Never?”
Steve shakes his head, staring at you openly until Eddie’s forcing his way back up and connecting his mouth with yours sloppily, chuckling through the motions as he pulls Steve down clumsily—he can taste Steve on your tongue, the headiness of it and you can taste yourself just as well, an intense exchange as Eddie sighs into your mouth, “Wanna taste her?” He asks to Steve, tilting his head to the side as Steve hovered over, face just a few inches away from both of you. He smile slightly, connecting his lips to Eddie’s with practiced ease, allowing the dirty exchange of Eddie’s tongue licking into his mouth, pulling on the metalhead's hair in response that has Eddie groaning playfully, teeth showing through his grin.
“I might have to give up that other threesome.” Steve jokes, loose hair bouncing against his forehead as he pulls away, both you and Eddie looking up at him curiously.
“You heard the lady—it’s a one and done deal.” Eddie explains with a hint of sadness, playing up the emotion.
But, Eddie knows far too well, eyeing you until you finally give in with an exasperated sigh.
“We tell no one,” You emphasize, “got it?”
Steve nods eagerly.
“Told you,” Eddie teases, tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth as he smiles, glaring up at Steve, “didn’t I?”
“Told him what?”
“Steve’s a little irresistible to the ladies and gents,” Eddie says knowingly, “even the stubbornest ones.”
You roll your eyes dramatically, “We can forget him next time.” You tell Steve, which he shrugs in response too, seemingly agreeing.
“Hey,” Eddie responds with offense, voice cracking slightly, “what—that’s not fair.”
“She’s the boss.” Steve defends, finding the time to pull his pants back up and shift to lay beside you on the bed.
“Oh wait,” The thought dawns on you suddenly, staring down at Eddie’s noticeably less prominent bulge, “—you didn’t—“
“I did,” Eddie laughs uncomfortably, shifting to reveal noticeable wet spot at the front of his sweats, “speaking of, I need to go change.”
“I’ll keep her company.” Steve grins devilishly, letting Eddie flick his vest back in his direction, the material hitting him directly in the chest as Eddie disappears down the hall.
Eddie’s only slightly offended when he returns to Steve pressing you down into the mattress again, teasing you with the slowest kisses possible. But you pull him in without question, letting him fall into a lazy rhythm of trading kisses—and maybe when the high wore of you’d regret all of it, but you can’t be bothered to care.
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#steddie x reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington smut#my writing#1kfic
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Okay I'm obsessed with your writing and I need someone to take this because I can't get it out of my head; kissing eddie and him cupping reader's jaw and prying her mouth open to slip his tongue in and finding out the she likes to be manhandled and teasing/mocking her about it 😩💓
author’s note: face grabbing is such a weakness for me i love it so much. this is pretty short but i loved the idea.
cw: 18+ (just to be safe), teasing, hair pulling, face grabbing, slight dom!eddie, established relationship, if i missed anything lmk.
word count: 1k
There was an initial timidness with Eddie at first, a lack of your own experience in relationships mixed with his own, and treading the newness together with open arms. You’ve had silly crushes and meaningless relationships before, but things with Eddie felt different. More solid, more tangible. It felt real. Still, he did intimidate you from time to time.
Eddie loved fiercely and showed it just as such—though, he was a gentle lover, always taking his time with you. You weren’t his first, something he mentioned to you beforehand. Part of you was expecting it to rattle your nerves, but in an odd way it calmed you. He had some guidance, not much, but it made the fumbling less awkward and easier to laugh at—it was better than you could’ve ever asked for, but there was always an underlying sense of intensity with Eddie and you tried to bury that away.
In the back of your mind, you felt it too. You’ve never had the chance to really explore things—what you were interested in, what you liked. Eddie never tried to force anything either, it was all at your own pace. But, that didn’t stop him from teasing you every now and then when he got the inkling that maybe you weren’t as innocent as you were portraying yourself. You knew you weren’t—you’ve just never been that great at expressing you needs and wants.
He’s got you cornered against the edge of the kitchen counter, back pressed into the ridge of the cheap linoleum, slotting your mouth against him in a heated exchange—he was worked up, clearly, the reason unclear. But, you don’t question it, giving him the same amount of emotion back into the kiss, match his small grunts of pleasure, a playful fight emerging between you both. You shove him gently, earning a weak chuckle as he smiles, lips still pressed against yours.
“Ouch,” He replies jokingly, voice low and soft in the quiet hum of the trailer, electricity buzzing overhead, “what was that for?”
“You’re being mean,” You reply with a subtle pout, shoving his wandering fingers away from your side, “stop trying to tickle me.”
“You started it,” Eddie counters childishly, tipping your chin up to look at him, head tilted in amusement, “trying to cop a feel, yeah?”
Eddie draws his pointed gaze to the fingers curled over the edge of his belt, the hem of his jeans, just past the waistband of his underwear. You don’t move them, even after he tries to point it out—you doubled down, yanking at him until he’s flush with your front.
Eddie shakes his head in amusement, the finger that’s tucked under your chin turning into his full hand as he grips you face tightly, a soft grunt leaving your lips at the force of it, cheeks squished tight as he pulls your face toward his, tongue teasing against your top lip before dipping inside, tangling along with your own—it wasn’t the first time you’ve kissed him like this and it wouldn’t be the last—but the roughness, the manhandling—it was new.
And you couldn’t help but notice the faint throb in your cunt at the action, eyes lighting up in wonder before quickly falling shut, letting Eddie devour you as he pleased—your own tongue pressing back against his, showing him that two could play at that game.
But, Eddie loves to tease and he can’t help it—not with how often you tried to feign innocence when you were so far from it.
“Oh,” His voice tips up, eyebrow quirked in interest, “fuck—you like that don’t you?”
You shake your head in an effort to lie and Eddie can’t help but laugh, pulling back to cup your jaw tighter, pulling gently until you’re forced to stand on your tiptoes—he teased you so effortlessly, it was a fucking miracle you could even withstand it this long.
“Don’t lie to me.” He warns, eyes flicking down darkly, searching for the tell of a glint in your own. His thumb pulls at your bottom lip before shoving your head up, straining your neck as he leans down for more, bottom lip pulled between his teeth gently.
You gasp inwardly at that, unashamed and audible to Eddie’s ears, it was like a beautiful melody to him, his face lighting up in delight.
“Does it hurt?” He asks, the stretch only slightly uncomfortable, the pinch of your face a dull ache. Eddie slips a free hand under your thigh, urging your legs up and around him. You shake your head in response.
“You’re a little freak, aren’t you?” He teases, recalling back to the first words you ever spoke to him, teasing him with his branded nickname—it wasn’t something he was particularly fond of, but coming from you? He couldn’t be mad about it, not in the slightest.
You shake your head playfully, struggling against his still stern grip, the cold sting of his rings pressed against the line of your jaw.
“You don’t have to be shy with me, sweetheart.” Eddie assures you, eyes softening slightly. “Tell me—really, do you like it?”
You nod impishly, smile tugging at his face in an instant—you’d ignited something you weren’t sure could be sniffed out at this point.
“Trust me—I like how things are now,” Eddie admits, “but I have no problem being a little rough, if that’s what you want?”
You were curious, the thrill of being manhandled so easily all too inciting. You wanted to experience everything with Eddie, if at all possible. The trust you had, it was undeniable.
“Please?” You ask sweetly—and who is Eddie to deny you. “Can we try it?”
Eddie chuckles deeply, the hand that’s holding your face is shooting away quickly, reaching around to cup the back of your, winding tightly into your hair until your movement is minimal, all directed by Eddie’s tight grip.
“I really hope you understand what you’re asking for,” Eddie reminds you carefully, “God—you’re a fucking dream.”
It’s a small slip-up in his act, the faint smile pulling at your face was impossible to ignore, and he fell for it every time.
#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#my writing#1kfic#5kfic
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𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐱 ·˚ ༘ 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary: adventures in your shared obsessions of each other and your bodies—and eddie was insatiable when it came to you.
cw: 18+ (minors dni), oral fixation, hand kink, fingers in mouth/face squeezing, unprotected sex, oral (f&m receiving), deep-throating, slight pain kink, lots of dirty talk, multiple orgasms, it’s just straight filth i’m sorry. if i missed any tags lmk!
word count: 5k
Eddie’s always been aware of it—his constant need to keep his mouth busy, whether by talking or stuffing it full of food, it didn’t matter. If it wasn’t either of those, it was a cigarette or joint, occasionally his fingers, chewing idly at the skin—it was a nervous habit he picked up when he was younger and never really dropped, but the point is, Eddie always held most of his focus on his mouth. It didn’t take long for you to notice either.
He chewed at his straws like a menace, nibbled away at his pencils, left no survivors to the plastic lids of his water bottles that he always failed to actually throw away—you didn’t really mind though, you always cleaned up for him regardless, his mind too busy and wandering to focus on anything other than one thing at a time. It was like try to stop a train moving at the speed of light and there was no reason for you to cause that collision if you didn’t need to.
Eddie admits it often too, that it might be a problem—it’s followed him since he was a toddler, but has grown into something much more nuanced. He can control it, for the most part, but his idle hands and struggling focus need the assistance and it’s the only thing that helps.
But, there’s one thing that Eddie finds helping him more, when the itch becomes an undenying need.
It’s you—and your own guilty fixation.
Satiating your own guilty pleasure is just as good as helping himself, if not more, and he’s the one that figures it out initially.
It’s never your own hands, always his, mouth always begging to be filled, stretched, something to keep you occupied. And Eddie is undeniably innocent about it in the beginning, attempting to wipe the dust of the chips from his fingers, having dipped into your own bag despite his constant protesting of him not being hungry—and now he was going to wipe it all over his jeans, it drove you nuts.
“Gimme.” You order with a soft mumble, holding your palm out in a grabbing motion until Eddie gives in, laying his hand down, palm up. He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it’s definitely not what you chose to do next, flipping his hand over carefully and picking the fingers apart one by one, laying the pad of his fingertips over your tongue—and you don’t make a big deal about, like you’re doing him a favor. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t already had worse inside of your mouth—though, you could argue that Eddie’s dick is far from the worst, it was arguably the best.
Either way, Eddie can’t help the twitch he feels in his dick at the sight, having to shift uncomfortably at the lunch table to avoid weird stares from his peers—not that they are paying any attention anyways.
It doesn't take long for you to realize that the only thing that helps your fix is Eddie’s hands, and in turn, it helps him too.
Occasionally it’s just pulling his hand until the back of it rests against your lips, pressing faint, gentle kisses into the skin—if you were cuddled up on his bed or sitting in the passenger seat of his van, you always had his hand in yours.
And Eddie loves kissing you—like, if there was a more expressive or forceful way to describe how much he enjoyed it, he wasn’t sure even that could measure it; though to Eddie’s fault, he didn’t have much to compare it all too, but it was still pretty fucking great.
Sometimes he’ll press his lips into your hair, that sweet vanilla scent of your shampoo invading his smell, or your ear, resting against the shell of it—but, that was usually reserved for the public, keeping his more lewd, dirty thoughts at bay.
When you were alone, it was all a completely different story.
It was rough, wild, and messy—it took a while to get into the rhythm of the things you enjoyed, but when it cliqued—it was like a light switching on and everything was intensified tenfold.
There were good days—the gentle ones, hours spent wrapped up in one another, thankful that his uncle Wayne worked such late nights. It wasn’t always about the sex either, just being in Eddie’s company, but it allowed for a small moment of calm in a relationship that was nothing but eclectic.
Then there were the unpredictable days, like tonight. It could’ve been either of you that set it off, but Eddie was particularly bothered. It could’ve been a number of things, none of them really important. All that mattered is that you were there, waiting, ready to be whatever he needed.
You make it back to his trailer before him—a late Friday night of Hellfire for himself, and you were too impatient. You ran into Wayne on the way in, which wasn’t nearly as surprising as it should be—he saw you often now and almost always had a plate set aside for dinner in case you were hungry, but it also meant that Eddie would surely eat that night, knowing his nephew was often too distracted to remember. There were nights when he would crash immediately, jumping into his bed without so much as a word or nod your way, just a kiss and a needy pull at you until you’re snug and tight at his side. He couldn’t always communicate what he needed, but you didn’t need him to, and it got easier over time.
He trodded in around midnight, not nearly as exhausted as you were expecting— “Got derailed again?” You ask amusingly, forcing him into the kitchen until he’s taking a seat on the counter, food being shoved forcefully into his already waiting hands. He smiles warmly, tapping you with foot until you’re squeezing between his legs, peering up at him with tired eyes.
“Yeah—“ He replies idly, shoveling the food into his mouth with a severe lack of grace and care, but it was endearing, “—Dustin can turn a thirty second turn into ten minutes if he wants to, I really need to reign that kid in sometimes.”
You huff a laugh, soft and barely audible.
He lifts the plate up that’s obstructing his view of you, peering from underneath the dishware, “Are you tired?” He asks with a small glint of hope, the glaze of something mischievous covering his features.
“Of course not.” You reply with a grin, pulling at the hem of his shirt as you stretch to the tip of your toes, pressing a quick kiss to the curve of his chin, “Are you?”
Eddie grins, mouth closed and tosses the plate off to the side.
“Fuck no,” He replies crudely, swiftly slipping himself off the counter and squeezing his hands underneath your thighs, baring your weight until he can settle your legs around his hips, pulling back to look at your giddy expression, “go wait in my room?”
Eddie knows when to be demanding—and you know he’s not really asking, but the playful tone excites you, a thrum of pleasure pulsing through your body.
“Don’t take too long.” You warn him softly, “Or I might change my mind.”
He knew you weren’t, but it was cute that you tried to play it as leverage. He leans forward, the biting kiss he gives you is a tell of how the night will probably play out—all fierce and teetering on that careful balance of pain.
And Eddie’s kind enough to carry you the short distance to his room, plopping you on his constantly unmade bed with a laugh, disappearing into his bathroom for a few minutes, water running through the silence of the trailer.
“Put a record on or something.” Eddie suggests through the wall as you scramble from the bed, sifting through his constantly growing collection of music.
“Because the soothing beats of Dio are such a mood setter.” You comment back snidely, flicking the record player on, letting whatever record he had in it already play lowly, the volume up high enough that it wasn’t dead silent—it did enough to drown out the chirping crickets and low buzz of the trailer park lights.
Eddie crowds around your back suddenly, pulling a startling squeal from your chest, hands gripping tight to your waist.
He hums a noise into the curve of your neck, “Look at me, sweetheart.” He asks softly, pulling back as quickly as your head turns, peering over your shoulder until he comes into view, eyes dark and piercing , still as wide as they always were—it made his gaze even more intimidating.
He sees the teasing, hopeful smile that pulls at your features.
“Open,” He instructs gently, the pad of his thumb rubbing at your chin, coaxing your lips wider and wider, his middle finger grazes over your bottom lip as it catches against your teeth—you see your opportunity, defying his order and clamping down over his finger gently, laughing softly as he stops dead, a sneaky smile pulling at his face, “—is that how tonight’s gonna be?”
You nod with giddy confidence and Eddie pulls his finger away suddenly, not much resistance on your end, but then he’s gripping your cheeks between his hand harshly, eyes tearing up in response—you couldn’t help but love the small tinges of pain it caused. Eddie always joked about you being a masochist, but you really couldn’t laugh—it was true.
“I can make it better,” You tease, speech muffled by the tight grip on your face, “I know what you need.”
Eddie raises an eyebrow in question, head tilting slightly. He can feel your curious fingers working at the hem of his jeans, yanking at his belt lazily.
“M’gonna get down on my knees,” You explain hotly, feel the grip on your face loosen and travel down slowly to the base of your neck, resting gently, “and suck your cock until you’re begging to come down my throat.”
Eddie wasn’t sure he had ascended to heaven just yet, but it was pretty damn close.
He allows you to lead him toward the edge of his bed, falling heavily into the mattress. He quickly forces off of his dirty Reeboks, watching as you settle onto the shag carpet, working at his pants with defined precision—it was so much easier now, like a routine. You yank at his jeans until he’s lifting his ass, letting you pull the pants the rest of the way down, his boxers joining soon after.
“That’s not fair,” He complains, fingers sifting through the hair at the crown of your head, “—already got my pants off and I haven’t even touched you how I want to.”
You take the bait, peering up at him between his widened legs, cocking resting against the base of his toned stomach, his shirt ridden up halfway.
“Fine—“ You respond with playful annoyance, lifting your shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor, your already bare breasts bouncing at the movement, “better?”
Eddie shakes his head like a nuisance, leaning forward with startling speed, head dipping down to mouth at the swell of your breasts, the soft bud of your nipple being pulled delicately between his teeth.
“Much better.” He comments against your skin, leaving a wet trail of open-mouthed kisses against the center of your chest until he reaches your mouth, pulling you in for another searing kiss that you have to force yourself to break away from—if you hadn’t, there’s no telling how quickly this would be over.
“My turn?” You ask hopefully, his hand reaching over his shaft and under his balls, palming at himself openly, watching your eyes drag from there to his face, smugness evident in his face. He nods slightly, letting you knock his hand away with ease.
You’re far too impatient to waste more time, eagerly mouthing at his heavy sack, tight from how easily you riled him up. You weren’t going for longevity or intimacy, you wanted the intensity that came with Eddie, how quickly he could throw over the control to you and let you take hold.
You lick a long stripe up the line of his cock, tongue flat against the thick vein the followed the underside of his shaft until you’re mouth closed around the tip, your lips pink and wet and downright sinful as you glanced up at him, his own lips parted in desperation. His hand rested gently against the crown of your head, not guiding or forceful—he just wanted a reason to touch you, not that he needed it.
“God, you look so fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth.” He comments, finger tracing along the side of your mouth, cheeks hollowed out. He wants you to move, wants to feel it as you go, taking him deeper and deeper—so you do. The hand that’s not resting against your hair forms around the underside of your jaw, fingers pressing gently against your cheeks, “Can you take more?”
You nod gently, nostrils flaring slightly as you force yourself to breathe, letting Eddie guide himself into your mouth until he budges against the back of your throat, holding until you can’t anymore, pulling back with a forceful gasp, eyes watering from the pressure. Eddie looks concerned for a half-second before you break out into a short fit of laughter, quickly taking him back into your mouth, hands forcing his shirt higher up his chest until he gets the idea, blindly tossing the material into the corner of his room, palms resting behind him as he watched, admired, tried desperately to memorize and catalogue every last moment of your mouth around him.
“Look at you,” He coos, “I know you love my hands in your mouth but you should see yourself right now,” His hand returns to the back of your head, cradling softly as he adds a small amount of pressure, quickening your pace as you forced his cock deeper into your mouth, pressing testingly against the back of your throat, “fuck—can I—“
You nod furiously, not even bothering to let him finish the sentence. He scoots ungraciously closer to the end of the bed, giving him a better angle to grasp your face, angling his hips slightly to rock his hips back into your mouth, trying your best to relax yourself as he moved himself deeper, feeling the muscles of your throat as you swallowed involuntary— a wet, hot blanket of pressure over his aching cock. He groans loudly, eyes downturned and hazy as he watches you, desperately at work trying to bring him to the edge—he was already there.
“Fuck—gonna come, sweetheart.” He warns, both hands twisting into your hair gently, angling your face up until he can watch himself disappear into your mouth with ease, eyes never leaving his own, only going blurry when he thrusts a little too rough, but it doesn’t matter once he falls apart, letting out a strangled moan as he comes down your throat, the hot and sticky strings coating your mouth in waves, his cock pulsing against your tongue as he rides it out.
He pulls your face away gingerly, fingers massaging at the hinge of your jaw as he pulls you toward him without question. He can feel your throat flex as you swallow his come, a sheepish smile pulling at your face. Eddie has no shame, eagerly pulling your mouth to his, tongue slipping past your bottom lip and into your mouth, the heady taste of him mingling with the taste of cigarettes; all encompassing and him. You moaned softly, keening into the gentle touch of his hands as they tightened around your throat.
“You’re unreal.” He comments in awe, grin pulling at his face as he pulls you up and over his lap, a violent reminder of how you still had on far too many clothes. “I’m gonna need a minute though.”
“Well,” You sing, fingers grazing over the outline of his lips, “I know what you can do to keep your mouth occupied—“
“What?” Eddie asks with mock offense, “Are you trying to silence me? Me? You’re really trying to silence Eddie The Banished—“
“Eddie.” You drag out with frustration, leaning back far enough in Eddie’s hold that he has to grab you tighter to keep you from falling, he squeezes, fingers digging into your side playfully.
“Get your ass on the bed,” He growls into the the underside of your jaw, ducking his head down swiftly to mouth at the concave of your chest, fingers still relentless in their attack to tickle you—a quick escape is made to put you out of your misery, nearly knocking him over in the process until you’re laid out on the bed, leaning up on your elbows as Eddie turns to you, his cock hanging heavy and thick between his thighs, the pale of his skin against ink black tattoos, it was a beautiful sight, “—see something you like?”
“Something,” Your voice replies airily, “someone.”
Eddie chuckles at that, roughly pulling at your loose sweatpants, pulling them down with ease—no panties either.
“Oh, you’re such a fucking deviant.” Eddie tells you, tossing the pants to the floor and relaxing on his stomach between your legs. “You take a shower at my house—get dressed in my clothes and you wait for me? You really want me to fuck you that bad?”
You nod sheepishly, watching with excitement as he pulls your legs further apart, fingers dancing along the skin carefully, around your ankle and up your leg, squeezing at the squishy flesh of your thigh, “Don’t act like you don’t want it just as bad.”
Eddie perks up at that, the bratty, condescending tone to your voice. He bites at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh with care, only enough pressure to make you jump, but it’s a warning. “Gonna let me have you how I want?” Eddie asks redundantly, “Because I have no problem fucking you until you can’t speak—not that I can just shove my fingers in your mouth and get the job done that way—“
Your pussy clenches at the thought, something Eddie noticed with rapt attention, smirk pulling at his features.
“Yeah—you’d like that. So fucking needy that I can shove my fingers in your mouth and you’ll be begging for me to stuff my cock inside you,” His ringed middle finger glides through your cunt, through your folds as the milky wetness gathers over his finger, stopping just over the sensitive bundle of nerves that pleaded and begged to be touched, but he pulls his finger away, slipping it into his own mouth, tasting with a look that has his eyes falling shut, breathing through his nose heavily.
“Tastes so fuckin’ sweet too,” He brags, shoving the fallen hair out of his face to look at you, “wanna taste?”
You’re not compelled to say no, so you nod—it was your own body, after all. Eddie grins salaciously, dipping his finger inside you this time with a quiet shush at your sudden gasp, quirking his finger teasingly. He pulls the finger away just as quickly, glistening with slick as he brings it to your mouth, pushing it past your waiting lips, barely any resistance as the heat of your mouth closes around his finger, dragging along your tongue until his ring bumps against your now closed lips.
“Shit,” He curses, eyes dilating at the sigh, honey irises now nearly black, “you’re a dream, you know that?”
You pull your mouth away with a noisy smack, “So I’ve been told.” You reply with a coyish grin, guiding his hand down to your throbbing cunt, awaiting the same desperately needed attention as him. “I hate to be a buzzkill, but if you don’t get to work—we’re gonna skip straight to the next step and I really don’t want to miss out.”
Eddie snorts with endearment, “Of course—sorry, princess.” He responds snarkily, knowing how much you hated the word.
You yank at his hair, earning a soft grunt as he buried as his face into your cunt fully—there was no gradual build up or teasing licks, his tongue flattening against you and gliding up the seam of your cunt in one fluid motion before his mouth was closing over your clit, working diligently and furiously—it was almost too much.
“Finally,” You sigh out, “—of everything you like to stick in your mouth, I didn’t think this is what would work the easiest.”
“Oh, I did.” He admits guilty, take a short break to sneak in the snide comment, “I’m a simple man—and this pussy is just—“
“Okay, okay.” You reply impatiently, bumping the side of his head with your thigh, urging him to continue, “less talking, please.”
Eddie has a way of ravishing you to the point of breathlessness, face heating up at the ungodly noises your arousal made when mixed with his mouth, his fingers joining in greedily, sinking inside you with ease, fitting perfectly, like they were right where they should be.
Your fist tightens his curls as the feeling builds, stomach tightening at the intense coil of pleasure at the base of your abdomen, you whine softly, legs shaking in anguish.
“Yeah?” Eddie asks hopefully, “Baby, you’re shaking—“
You nod desperately, urging him to keep going, blunt nails scratch at his back, “Eddie, please.” You beg for no reason in particular, but Eddie adores the way his name falls from your tongue like this, desperate for release—so he gives it to you without questions, pulling you right to the brink with his mouth against your clit, tongue working over the sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re moaning out, a harsh gasp ripped from your chest as you curl forward, hips involuntarily rocking through your orgasm that Eddie guides you through.
“I—“ You try to speak, feeling loss for words and gasping for air, chest heaving quickly, “—fuck, I can’t even think.”
Eddie laughs softly, adjusting his way up your body until he’s settled over you, arms encircling your waist and covering you in warmth, the sharp coldness of his bracelet shocking you back to reality.
“Are you calling it quits already?” Eddie asks petulantly, bottom lip forming into a subtle pout. You smile tiredly, raising your hand to drag along the faint stubble of his chin—he’d gone a few days without shaving and it was barely noticeable unless you were this close, invading his space.
“No,” You say wearily, Eddie senses your uncertainty and bursts into a fit of laughter, pulling back until he can lift you up and into his lap, supporting the majority of your weight, “—maybe, I don’t know?”
Eddie chews at his bottom lip in thought, a horrible habit that’s caused one too many bloody lips—you tap at his face lightly, pulling him out of his deep trance of thinking, giving him a soft look of warning.
“Sorry,” He replies earnestly, “—was thinkin’.”
“About?” You press, voice tipping up an octave.
You drag your thumb along his bottom lip, letting him pull the finger between his teeth gently, eyes boring into your own with intensity.
“You trust me?” He mumbled around your thumb, earning a jerky nod from you in response. “Good.”
And like that, Eddie’s flipping to his back, settling you over his lap with ease, “Not like that.” He instructs, making a motion with his fingers for you to turn the other way. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion but you listen anyways, turning until your thighs are spread out over his lap, “yeah—fuck, that’s—“
Eddie’s at a loss for words, for once.
“Don’t give up on me now.” You tease, pulling at his hands until they’re settling over the base of his own cock, allowing him to guide himself to your cunt, sliding and to the hilt in one gentle motion, his hand grasping back at your hip to keep you steady as you fall forward, mouth hung open in a groan as your fingers gripped the sheets between his legs. The angle was better, deeper, you couldn’t even fully describe it, but you could tell Eddie was affected just the same, doing the soft laugh he does when he’s overwhelmed with pleasure, elated and happy.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie sighs, hands squeezing at the dips in your hips, “this view is—fuckin’ amazing.”
“Eddie, it’s so—“
“Deep,” He answers with a strained chuckle, “trust me—I know.”
“Come on, baby.” He urges, assisting in the slow lift of your hips, the first slam of your ass back against his groin pulling a deep guttural groan out of both of you.
Your legs are weak, still recovering from the intensity of your orgasm, the muscles twitching in protest as you bounced over Eddie’s lap, his dick disappearing inside of you as he watched on in awe, until he notices the muscles of your back contracting, palms pressed out in front of you as you struggled to keep upright.
It was a losing battle.
Eddie quickly sits up, adjusting himself until your back is pressed against his chest, arms wrapping around your stomach, he leans down to mouth at your back, whispering hot-breathed words of adoration into your skin and something closer to “Baby, baby—“ over and over again until it all blurs together, a similar tone to your desperate plea of his name, not entirely sure what you’re asking for.
“Look at me,” He asks breathlessly, hand reaching around to pull at your face, bringing your tired eyes to his gaze, lips parted slightly, “feels good, yeah?”
You nod slowly, his thumb heavy against your lip, parting further without question. Eddie can see the question in your eyes, he doesn’t need you to say it.
“You sure?” He asks.
You nod furiously, eyes squeezing shut on a rough thrust of his hips, his ring and middle finger slipping over the flat of your tongue, cold metal knocking against your teeth gently.
“Suck, sweetheart,” He encourages, the flat of his palm pressing against your stomach, his hips snapping into you from below, moans strangled out by his fingers.
“All it takes is my fingers, huh?” Eddie asks teasingly, “Is it that simple?”
You don’t answer, the inability made by Eddie’s fingers pressing further against your tongue, before pulling out and pressing the spit slick fingers to your core, the slide over your aching clit has you gripping to his forearms, letting Eddie take hold and pulling you to your second orgasm that night, the hand that’s pressed firmly against your stomach reaching up to grab you shoulder to keep you steady.
Eddie widens his thighs slightly, the stretch pulling at your already aching muscles, “Eddie, it’s too much.” You tell him, “I can’t—“
“You can,” He soothes, using every last ounce of energy he has to keep you upright, his steady pace falling off, more unpredictable as he nears his own end, “M’almost there, sweetheart.”
“Fuck,” You whine, Eddie’s fingers insistent as he circles your clit, determined to bring you over the edge with him, “I’m gonna—“
Eddie feels you tense around his cock, mouth falling open wordlessly as you come, letting him keep you pressed against him, tipping over the edge just as quick, the tightness of your cunt around him too overwhelming in the moment and he swears he nearly backs out.
It takes a moment for you two to come down, breath mingling together as Eddie slipped out of you, carefully adjusting your strained thighs until you could sit on the bed comfortably, his fingers brushing away a few wild strands of hair from your face, smiling through his own mused hair, bangs obscuring his eyes slightly.
You’re not even totally conscious again until you hear the familiar flick of Eddie’s lighter and the tinge of smoke invading your senses, cigarette placed between his lips.
You look at him with a subtle glance of scrutiny, admiring his unashamed nakedness, leaning back on his mattress in full glory, plucking at the cigarette with his thumb and forefinger, offering it up to you.
“No,” You reply softly, pressing up on shaky legs to climb over him—Eddie grips at your wrist instantly, eyes turned up in question, “—bathroom, hot shot.”
“Do you need help?” Eddie asks softly, rubbing at the tender spot on the inside of your wrist.
“I think I can manage.” You tell him, pulling at his grasp until you can lean over him, pressing your lips against his tenderly, the soft bellow of smoke pouring into your own mouth.
Eddie chuckles softly, tracing his pointer finger over your lips slowly, a smile pulling at your face.
“God, I fuckin’ love you.” He says warmly, finger pressing under your chin to tilt your face up to look at him. “You have no idea.”
You hum softly in response, “I beg to differ.”
Because you knew that feeling was shared—and just as intensely as you felt it, you knew he did too.
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#my writing#1kfic
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please please PLEASE do a blurb of eddie fucking the reader and shes like struggling and saying “have.. to.. be.. quiet” while eddie is just cooing her telling her that she doesn’t/no one is home
author’s note: i will die on the hill of ‘struggling to be quiet’ fucking, thank you for coming to me ted talk and i hope you enjoy my poorly written smut.
cw: 18+ (minors dni), unprotected sex (pulling out), exhibitionism (sort of), eddie being a menace, just another reason to write depraved smut
word count: 1.6k
You were accustomed to the quickies that happened, more often than not, in the back of Eddie’s trailer—early mornings, late nights. Eddie wasn’t particularly fond of fucking you in the back of his van anymore, feeling rushed and uncomfortable, and you deserved to be treated beautifully—not forced onto your knees in the back of some metal death machine, scrapping them up for the sheer idea of getting laid. You deserved a bed, at least—but the only downside to that, despite his lack of being a teen, Eddie still lived with his uncle.
And as often as Wayne was gone, he also couldn’t stay gone forever. Most of the time it could be managed without worry—Wayne was gone more evenings and nights, aside from the rare occasion he had a day off, but Eddie didn’t have any qualms when it came to you and when he needed you—and there really was no denying him, not when you wanted it just as badly.
His uncle doesn’t question when you start staying overnight, it’s not his business and he knows Eddie’s grown and level-headed enough to make good decisions—and you’re good for Eddie, he sees it in the way Eddie carries himself now and in the way he does everything possible to accommodate to you first—it really isn’t necessary, but Wayne raised him to be a gentleman and he’d be damned if he didn’t see that through.
Regardless, Eddie loves to catch you at the most inconvenient times—particularly the warm, summer weekends when Wayne was off, saddled up on the couch in the living room catching up on the latest sports game, television blasting through the trailer.
He knew. He had to.
Besides, Wayne had been nice enough to give Eddie the only bedroom in the trailer—and as a hormonal kid in his last year of high school, it was probably for the best.
He shuts the door with a soft click, the mix of his radio and the booming television drowning out everything else—still, when he fucks you, his hand is clasped tightly over your mouth to drown out every last moan he pulls from you.
Eddie loves it, face lighting up in excitement as you struggled to keep quiet, eyes nearly rolling back in your head at how hard he was fucking into you, panting his own soft breaths over the back of his hand, his face so close your eyelashes could touch.
“Fuck,” He groans brokey, voice cracking on his final thrust, pulling out swiftly to come over the soft expanse of your stomach, pulling his hand away from your mouth,“—baby—“
It’s too loud for your liking, springing up from your reclined position to clasp your hand over his mouth, his eyes falling shut as he tugs at his dick, working through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He mumbled something against the palm of your hand, another curse or filthy remark, you’re not sure—but you’re more than thankful to have muffled his mouth because there was no surviving the shame of having to walk back to the entrance of the trailer after this.
When Eddie finally calms down, releasing his dick to pull at your hand, he’s laughing—and you can’t help but look at him with absurdity, shoving gently at his bare stomach.
“Eddie,” You say in a hushed voice of warning, “are you trying to get us caught?”
“He’s not stupid,” Eddie replies half-heartedly, shrugging, “He probably went out for a couple smokes anyways—he usually does.”
“Still,” You stress, “If you can’t wait, at least don’t make it so fucking obvious.”
Eddie smiles, tipping your chin up with his forefinger, the curved metal of his ring bumping against the skin.
“You can always say no,” Eddie reminds you playfully, “It didn’t seem like you cared a few minutes ago.”
Your eyes narrow, trying to look as intimidating as you could despite your soft features, “I was trying to be quiet. You were being loud on purpose.”
“You feel good.” He defends weakly, “Sue me.”
You roll your eyes fondly, swatting his hand away gently.
“Well, for my sake, try a little harder please?”
Eddie agrees with cautious regret, knowing he definitely didn’t have enough self control, but if it was for you—he would. And it becomes normal after time, almost too easy, and Eddie takes full advantage of it.
You’ve never fucked in a storage closet, let alone at school, but it’s something you can say you’ve tried at least once—all thanks to Eddie’s steadfast determination. He’s even bold enough to fuck you in the bathroom of your parent’s home during a big dinner with other friends and family—and no one had a clue. Eddie always knew how to take full advantage of every situation, both a blessing and a curse.
But when the rare occasion does come, leaving you both alone for the night and Eddie free of his Hellfire duties, it’s like you don’t know how to handle yourself, forcing yourself to keep quiet out of habit.
You pull your bottom lip tight between your teeth, snuffing out the soft whines begging to escape, the slow, full thrust of Eddie’s hips overwhelming when mixed with his calloused fingers working at your already sensitive clit. He moans unabashed, tossing his head back to throw his hair over his shoulder, free hand gripping your hip like a vice, pulling you against him just as eagerly as he thrust into you.
“Love watching you like this,” Eddie says softly, voice shot from pleasure, “—look so pretty on my cock, sweetheart.”
You nod jerkily, agreeing with whatever he said at that point, brows pulling together in concentration, mouth falling open on a soundless gasp.
“What’s wrong?” He asks teasingly, tongue peeking out past his lips and near the corner of his mouth, smug as fucking ever.
“Have to—“ You pant softly, “have to be quiet, Eddie.”
Eddie pouts endearingly, pulling you against him in a rough snap of his hips, your hands grabbing at his messy sheets.
“No, baby,” He shakes his head, “—it’s just us.”
“But—“ You start to protest, but Eddie's hand comes to grab at your face, gentle despite his quickening pace, less restrained than earlier. “—what if your neighbors, you know—“
It was true, sound traveled far too well in the tiny trailer park—but Eddie couldn’t find it in himself to care.
“I want to hear you,” Eddie tells you honestly, eyes falling upon your face, mouth gaping open in his grip, you nod slightly, “—unless you need me to force it out of you.”
And he could with no problem.
“Turn around,” He instructs softly, pulling out momentarily to adjust your hips until you push up onto your knees, face shoved gently into the mattress, “don’t hold back, baby.”
Eddie came in with a plan, sliding into you with ease, hips snapping at a hurried pace that had you gasping into the sheets, even then they were muffled, all semblance of thought and self control gone, practically drooling into his sheets at the brutal pace he’d set.
It isn’t enough for Eddie though, his hand winding into the back of your hair until it hits the root, yanking your head up tenderly—the strain is bordering on uncomfortable, but it’s worth it, the sound he releases as he thrusts into you with furious precision.
“Fuck—you feel so good,” He says in a haze, head tilted down to watch himself sink into you, squeezing at the dip of your hip, “squeezing me so tight, sweetheart.”
You nod, mumbling a soft “Uh huh,” in response, but it’s not what Eddie wants—he knows you have it in you, keeping it so calmly at bay.
“Am I making you feel good, too?” Eddie asks teasingly, another quiet nod, the motion weak against his tight hold on your hair. “Say it, baby—who makes you feel like this?”
“You,” You reply softly, pulling gently against his grip until he lets go, palms pressed against the bed to keep you upright, using your own momentum to slam your hips back against him, plunging Eddie so deep your vision feels like it goes spotty, “—fuck, you do.”
“Say it, sweetheart.” He instructs in a sweet tone, leaning back on his calves until you’re seated in his lap, “say my name.”
You gasp as his fingers reach around to find your clit in a desperate attempt to pull you to a quick orgasm—“Eddie.”
“Louder.”
You sob softly, the muscles of your legs twitching as the pressure builds, your body going white hot with euphoric pleasure as you come around Eddie’s cock, crying out a broken, “EddieEddieEddie—“
Eddie curses as he comes a few seconds after, over the swell of your ass, feeling desperate to catch your breath. He leans down a moment later, pressing a soft kiss to the middle of your back, running his hands along your arms gently. He lifts you up slowly until you can face him again, face at chest level from where he stood above you. His face is outlined by the low light of the room, another satisfied grin pulling at his face.
“Don’t act so innocent,” Eddie teases, “I knew you had it in you.”
You roll your eyes light-heartedly, shoving your fist against his abdomen gently, his fingers coming to wrap around your wrist with ease.
“I never said I didn’t.” You counter and Eddie grins even wider.
It’s safe to say that Eddie goes out of his way to make sure the trailer is always cleared from then on, never depriving himself of such an experience ever again.
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#my writing#1kfic
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𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary: inspired loosely by this text post. it wasn't your fault your dealer liked to give you special treatment and kiss you in private, those were just the perks of being a very loyal customer, aside from the fact that he was probably falling in love with you.
cw: 18+ (minors dni), fuckbuddies to lovers, cockwarming (barely lol), slow sex, dom/sub undertones (for both), unprotected sex (be responsible, babes), love confessions, meanish!eddie (very brief), weed/drug use, some degrading language, if there's anything i missed let me know.
word count: 3k ♡
This was the last place you expected to end up on a Saturday night, nestled up in Eddie’s trailer in the dip of his legs, spread wide around your own as your back rested against his chest, his curious hands rubbing against the soft flesh of your stomach, right above the button of your jeans—if he moved just an inch lower, he’d feel the thin cotton material of your panties. He’d seen them already, catching a sliver of the black material as you leaned forward to grab the joint he had rolled earlier, passing it to him behind your head.
He twirls a strand of your hair around his finger, pulling it behind your ear. The smoke pours from his mouth, over the crown of your head—he takes another quick hit, hand slipping under the curve of your neck to tip your head back, blowing the mass of smoke into your mouth, lips grazing at the action.
“I’m not some virgin smoker,” You comment, eyes catching, the curve of his jaw prominent at this angle, still under the firm grip of his hand around your neck, “I can smoke my own shit.”
“Then why are you here?” He counters—and what a good fucking point, but it doesn’t beat out of the annoyed face you make at him in retaliation. “Got me dippin’ into my own supply, sweetheart.”
“You offered.” You point out, pathetic little pout on your face.
And you accepted, which was obviously your own fault.
“Watch the movie,” He urges, fingers dragging through the hair at the nape of your neck, tipping your head back up until it’s rested comfortably against his chest again, “let me take care of you.”
It wasn’t the first time Eddie’s doted on you, treated you special—unlike most of his regular customers. He never slipped you any extra (unless he wanted to try out a new strand with you), but he always made it known that you were his favorite, and dealers definitely don’t kiss their customers after buying; that was ludicrous.
You’ve seen the inside of his trailer a few times over, received rides home from him, and even spent time with him in his van after school, just to let loose and forget about the day; enjoy each other’s company, though most of that was spent with your hand’s down each other’s pants, racing each to orgasm—or letting Eddie fuck you hard and fast in the back of his van, or if he was feeling particularly impatient on the day, his drivers seat, legs spread out wide over his thighs as he thrust into you—nothing but a mess of breathless grunts and moans.
Either way, you never stayed at his home longer than a few minutes; it was uncharted territory. And while he doesn’t outright ask to fuck you, he’s got the edge to him. He’s touching you so personally—the line of your neck, occasionally letting his fingers drag over the valley of your breasts, or like they are now, shoved back under the soft material of your sweater.
It’s the soft pop of the button of your jeans that has you wiggling around, wordlessly allowing him to strip your bare, panties gliding down with ease. He gives a rough squeeze to your ass, pulling you straight back down, undoing his own jeans in the process. He doesn’t pull them down completely, though—just enough so your bare cunt can drag over the soft material of his boxers, his hardened dick difficult to ignore as it grinds against the seam of your cunt.
You moan softly, mouth falling open. Eddie’s hands find their way against the back of your top, twisting the material in his hand until he can use the leverage to pull you back against him once more, free hand tapping at the inside of your left thigh, urging them both wider and wider, until there’s nowhere else for them to stretch.
“Take it,” He urges, encouraging you to chase your own pleasure for a moment, “grind down against me, sweetheart.”
And you do, the rough drag of the material creating a strange, but euphoric feeling as it rubs against your clit, the wetness clinging to his boxers, molding around the shape of him. Eddie moves both hands until they’re resting against the inside of your thighs, gripping firmly at the flesh, massaging you into a bubble of small moans, subtly aiding you in the process of getting yourself off.
“Gonna fuck me?” You ask teasingly, the wild curls on his head obscuring your view slightly as your head was tucked back against his shoulder, chest heaving with the unsteady breaths you took. “Is that why you tricked me into staying?”
“Tricked you?” He asks, tutting his tongue slightly in disapproval. “Baby, no one had to trick you—you knew what you were doing.”
He was right; leave two horny adults with a mountain of weed and a mind full of dirty thoughts, the product of it was obvious.
“And I know I want you to fuck me,” You say with an immense amount of pride, gripping desperately at his jeans with your fingers, “so are we gonna get on with it—or do you want to talk about feelings?”
Yeah, absolutely not. Still, Eddie wasn’t in the mood for an easy, quick fuck. He wanted to take it slow, drag it out as long as he could.
He mumbled a soft direction, asking for you to lift your hips, slipping his boxers low enough that he could free himself, pumping the length of his dick a few times before entering you easily, no resistance on your end—he knew that pussy was made for him, and him alone.
No one ever said he was a gentleman anyways.
“So fuckin’ warm,” He comments absently, adjusting you both more comfortably, almost fully reclined against the couch, still giving himself enough leverage to fuck into you slowly, the slow panting moans an obvious sign that this was just as good for him as it was for you, you reach back slowly, hand twisting into his hair—just wanting something to hold onto, “so good—baby, fuck—“
“Eddie, fuck—“ But it’s not the tone he’s expecting, realization dawning on you through your blinded haze of want, Eddie was completely bare inside of you; that was not the way things went. Ever, “you forgot a condom.”
“Won’t come inside,” He assures you, like it’s a fix all—but stupidly, and against your own better judgement, you agree, “never get to feel you like this, sweetheart—shit, I’m gonna get addicted.”
“O-oh, really?” You hiccup, letting Eddie move into you lazily, almost like he can’t be bothered to fuck you properly. The movie playing in the background is an afterthought to you, but Eddie’s almost intrigued, head turned to glance at the moving pictures. “Think I’m gonna let this happen more than once?”
Eddie huffs a soft laugh, hand fisting in your head to angle your head back to lock at him, straining until you gasp in protest, his eyes scanning over your face, the length of your body, and back up again.
“I’m sure of it, sweetheart.” He replies cockily, his hands forgetting your body as he cradles your head, lips pressing to yours heatedly, tongue delving into you like he owned your mouth and he thrusts so deeply that you can’t do anything but moan, his kisses swallowing up the noise greedily. “Now, watch the movie.”
He maneuvers you carefully until he’s pressed against the back of the couch, seated fully in the middle, coercing you to lean forward, hands grasping at your own thighs for balance, but Eddie’s got a firm grip on you—you weren’t going anywhere unless he wanted you to.
You couldn’t even focus on the movie, not with how tightly Eddie’s fingers dipped into your waist, using small, slow movements until you’re grinding against him—he wasn’t even moving inside you anymore, letting you writhe against him, testing your patience.
And you had none, unfortunately.
“Keep fucking me like this and I might think you’re falling in love with me, Eddie.” It’s a low blow, but Eddie still laughs—it has bite behind, scoffing under his breath at the same time. You knew it was impossible, but still, it was nice to imagine.
“Not a chance, sweetheart.” He lies easily—he doesn’t treat other customers like you; why hadn’t you got the message yet?
Eddie was terrible with words and feelings—and maybe he went about it the wrong way, tricking you into think this was just another easy fuck for him, it never was.
And Eddie fucks you for what feels like an hour, the slow drag of his cock torture as pulls out, just to snap back into you deeply, forcing a desperate moan from your lungs.
“Eddie, please,” You beg, “I can’t—“
It was pure torture, listening to his soft grunts for so long, and not a single glance at his face, his hands, it felt like punishment.
“Can’t what?” He sounds smug, his thumbs rubbing soft circles into your back as he rocks you against him.
“Can’t come, like this—“ You force out, hoping desperately that he would give up on this stupid game he had started playing.
He laughs behind you again, “Not my problem, sweetheart.”
You’d had enough—enough of the cockiness, braze to his attitude, his constant torture; he did not have that power of you. And if he was going to start this, you were determined to finish it.
“Not how this works,” You tell him, shoving his hands away until you can climb off of him, his slack face the first thing you see when you turn, swinging your legs over his thighs until he’s sinking back inside of you, his face tightening at the action, “I’m not some whore you get to fuck and throw out, Eddie.”
And Eddie knows that—he’s just pissed at himself for not having the courage to speak up, suffering in silence as you start a steady pace against him, thighs slapping together ludely.
“Is that what you think I am?” You ask breathlessly, his shirt fisted into your hands to assist you as you moved yourself over his cock, watching as he tried pathetically to keep himself together. “Some whore that you get to fuck when it pleases you?”
“No, no,” He rambled out, head shaking widely, the hands that gripped your thighs squeezed, blunt nails pinching at the flesh, “fuck—not you—“
Your head tilts in question and Eddie can’t deal with right now, how easily the reigns have been switched—he always forgets how quickly you can turn things around on him; but, that’s exactly why he loved it.
“Not a dirty little whore, yeah?” You tease him, watching his gaze fall to the space shared between you, watching your cunt swallow him up. You grip his cheeks between your hands, thumb rubbing at the skin affectionately—you’re forcing him to look at you now. “Yeah?”
He nods earnestly, struggling to keep his composure—he was aching, the slow torturous pace he’d set coming back to bite him.
“Say it.”
“Not—not a whore, baby.” He agrees, his voice broken, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as he focuses, his impending orgasm creeping up on him. “Fuck—gotta slow down.”
You pout sweetly, his expression pathetic and desperate, eyes open now, staring so deeply into you. But truthfully, you didn’t care.
“Hate you—“ It slips out, feeling the weight of your own orgasm following closely behind, “hate you for making me want you so bad, Eddie.”
“You think it’s easy for me?” He counters, his hand reaching between you both, thumb circling your clit. It’s the first time he’s touched you all night and it’s too much—you lean forward, resting on him for support. “Think I just wanna fuck you in the back of my van all the time?”
And you don’t have the words to respond, a mess of soft moans as Eddie doesn’t stop or slow himself, the quick pace of his thrusts matching his thumb as it dragged against your sensitive bud.
“Think I just wanna fuck you?” He says boldly, surprising himself.
He’s going to blame it on the haze of his own pleasure, because sober Eddie—he would never.
“Shit—isn’t that—isn’t that what you always wanted?” You say brokenly, hands twisting into his tangled mess of hair. He looks sad, upset—it almost makes you cut this thing short entirely.
“Not anymore,” He says softly, his thumb giving one last flick before you’re coming around his dick, clenching down so tightly that Eddie almost loses his grip on you, “fuck—want you all the time, baby—not just like this either.”
You mumble an incoherent “uh huh”, the confession hitting you hard, but your brain was absolute mush, barely able to keep up with Eddie’s quick change in pace, racing toward his own orgasm.
“Fuckfuck—“ He groans, lifting you abruptly to pull himself out, a few jerky thrusts into his own hand before he’s coming over his own stomach, ruining his own shirt in the process.
“That was—“ You start to speak up, pulling back fully to look at him, breath still labored.
“Yeah.” Eddie answers quickly, careful as he maneuvers you away from him, seated on the couch as he strips himself of his shirt and adjusts his boxers and jeans back to his hips, forgoing the button
He’s a complete mess, his hair disheveled.
“Do you want to—“ You start, but Eddie is quick to cut the tension, shutting down your attempt.
“No,” He interrupts, picking up the remnants of the joint that had burned out in the ashtray, long forgotten from earlier that evening, “It’s not a big deal.”
“Eddie,” You deadpan, “I just let you inside me—no condom and you want to drop a bomb like that?” You weren’t angry, but definitely frustrated. Eddie was always jumping at the first chance to avoid awkward situations, but you weren’t letting him off that easy. “Cut the shit.”
“You want me to confess my love to you or something?” He laughs bitterly, tossing your clothes at you gently, giving you whiplash with his tone.
“I didn’t ask you to,” You point out, wondering if that’s exactly what he wanted to do—that thought is immediately snuffed by the look on Eddie’s face, like you’ve caught him in a lie. “Do you?”
Love me, you think. The words are too real to leave your mouth, but they linger—Eddie doesn’t want to look at you, either, forcing himself to traverse to the back of the trailer toward his room, grabbing a clean shirt. This felt ridiculous, like chasing a child down who wouldn’t listen.
“Hey—“ You jump from the couch, bounding after him, bare feet stepping against the old carpet, the thumps vibrate the entire home and Eddie tenses, back turned to you as he rummages through his drawer, “Eddie, answer me.”
“You know this shit doesn’t matter,” He starts, fisting shoved deep into the alcove of clothes, “so what are you worried about?”
“Do you think I let you fuck me out of convenience?” You ask, looking at him incredulously, eyebrows pulled together in annoyance. “What the fuck, Eddie?”
Eddie doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t deserve love—he’s never had a stable relationship with anyone outside of Wayne, not even his parents. And you can see it in the way that he looks at you, too scared to admit it to himself; he deserves just as much love and care as the next person.
“I don’t need a huge love confession, you know?” It wasn’t what you were after; you wanted to understand. “But, if it’s going to bother you when I start sleeping without people—I need to know that.”
It had only ever been him, at least since this started—his charm and outlandish personality had you trying that first taste of weed willfully, leaned over his lap as he slipped the blunt past your lips. You should’ve known then.
Eddie is silent for too long, slipping the shirt over his head wordlessly. He’s scared to say anything at all.
“Okay,” You say decisively, knowing that if he wasn’t going to say anything now, it was never going to happen, “I’ll leave.”
Not that it makes any sense; he drove you here.
“Don’t.” He forces out, again—words lingering on his tongue.
“Don’t sleep with other people.”
You smile to yourself, hands crossing over your chest as he takes a step toward you. “Okay.” You say simply,
“Okay?”
“I won’t sleep with other people.” You shrug, finger reaching out to play with his necklace, “But—that means no more dealing to me.”
No more special treatments, no more free samples; this wasn’t a transactional situation.
“Fine,” He agrees, fingers wrapping around the wrist where it rested against his chest, “deal.”
You snort softly at the pun, letting him pull you toward him, lips pressing into yours in a slow, lingering kiss.
“Thank god,” You sigh in relief, “I’m tired of only fucking in your van and—“
“You never said anything!” Eddie exclaims in protest, the frustrated facade now gone, replaced with something more relaxed, despite the waning effects of his high.
“How was I supposed to?” You ask, leaning back to look at him in confusion, “Hey, Eddie—I know we’re not serious or anything but I’d really appreciate if you’d fuck me in your bed and not the back of your van?” You finish mockingly, yelling loudly when Eddie flips you over his shoulder with no struggle at all, head dangling near the chain of his wallet.
“What are you doing?” You squeal, wrestling against his grip weakly.
“Fucking you,” He retorts, playfully tossing you to his half-made bed, “in my bed—that’s what you want, right?”
You nod, laughing giddily at the way he bounds the bed, nearly smothering you in the process. “Maybe you can help me,” He adds offhandedly, fingers exploring the expanse of your stomach, along the underside of your breast, “a pretty girl, a guy with decent drugs to sell, we’d make a killing.”
“Oh, so you want me to do all the work?” You tease, catching the devilish glint in his eye as he smiles up at you.
He nods, leaning forward to bite gently at the spot where your shoulder meets your neck, “They’d be lining up by the hundreds, baby.”
And you know he’s joking, only partly—but the look in his eye; you’d do just about anything for this man.
#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#my writing#1kfic
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𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 pt. ii ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary: reeling from the night before, eddie's mixed signals lead to new revelations and a spontaneous night of activities that you can't help but play along with.
cw: 18+ (minors dni), virgin!reader, first kisses and more, skinny dipping, oral (f recieving), handjobs, hair pulling, lots of cute interactions, it's a lot calmer than the first part lol. if i miss any tags pls let me know!
word count: 7.7k ♡ part one, part three
There had been radio silence from Eddie the entire morning.
You shoved the dice in Eddie’s hand when you caught him at lunch, roughly slapping them down into his palm and curling his fingers over them, assuring they were squeezed shut. Eddie’s stricken with a wordless response, staring up at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape—his brain is short function behind those sweet brown eyes, realization settling into him as he thinks back on the night prior, hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he swayed you toward an orgasm, all while desperately starving himself from his own.
He watches you sit down, pulling your lunch tray closer to your chest. A baby carrot gripped tightly between your thumb and pointer finger, the crunch deafening in the silence that had fallen over the table. The other side of the problem suddenly dawns on him, pulling your own pair from his jacket pocket, sliding them gently onto the tray, the small clinking grabbing the attention of the entire group.
“I’m sensing some hostility,” Dustin ponders, eyes squinted as he glances between the two of you, “what did he do this time?”
“Huh?” Eddie’s wounded by the accusation, hand pressed to his chest in offense, “Why is it always me?”
“Because, it is always you.” You reply sharply, using the weak plastic fork to stab into the dry spaghetti, twirling the noodles around the utensil but never making the trip to your mouth. It made you want to barf. “Isn’t it?”
“That prank you pulled last year that ruined her science project?” Dustin recalls, watching Eddie’s face fall at the memory.
It was harmless, Eddie had so foolishly assumed, sneaking up behind you one dreary, rainy Monday morning–already frazzled by how soaked your project was– scaring the daylights out of you; thus sending your project, which had taken days—days, you’d told him. Hours of paper mache and labeling, just to get everything right, all ruined in the small span of ten seconds, the sad remnants left to wilt away on the ground. He apologies for a week straight, following you around like some sick puppy, but to no avail. Eventually though, you got over it and it wasn’t hard to forgive him. Still, you would never forget.
Eddie really knew how to get under your skin, through pleasure and pain; the pain of annoyance, to be clear. It wasn’t his voice, or his personality—it was the unbounded lack of self awareness and grandioseness.
“So, what did you do?” Dustin pushes, all of the boys now narrowing in on the both of you.
“Nothing.” It’s simultaneous, both of you glancing up with narrowed eyes, quickly flicking back toward your trays. Eddie shoved a small almond into his mouth, chewing harshly.
“Shit, maybe I was wrong.” Dustin concedes, hands thrown up. “Was it you, then?”
Dustin’s staring at you expectantly, determined to get to the bottom of this obvious tension between you and Eddie—though, you are having none of it.
“Dustin, I’m giving you five second to drop it before I tell this entire table that Suzie said—“
“Okay!” He shouts over you, hands waving around in panic, begging you to stop. “I’ll drop it.”
It’s a low grumble, dejected at how easily he’d been subdued by you; he couldn’t help how head over heels he was for his girlfriend, even talking to you about it in confidence—but you weren’t afraid to use it as armor if need be. Dustin really needed to learn his limits.
Your lunch gets cold, the lingering silence switching from awkward to extremely uncomfortable—you excuse yourself immediately. Eddie, unfortunately, doesn’t follow.
☆.｡.:*
You think about Eddie the rest of the day, despising yourself for it. He couldn’t find the courage to say anything to you, other than a simple nod or acknowledgment your way, despite how often you sought him throughout the day. Was he embarrassed now? You couldn’t find any reason why that would matter, having done what you did willingly.
He’s setting up the table for another campaign session after school that day, the entire trudge of boys piling in behind you, gabbing and talking about their days, all the while, Eddie meandering around silently, placing and displacing certain things. Dustin noticed too, leaning in over your shoulder from your seat—which so happened to be directly across from Eddie’s, traveling the long stretch of the table, you glanced in the direction of the long haired boy, his head turned away from the both of you.
“Did you break him?” It’s a valid question. None of you had ever seen him like this. Ever.
“I told you—I didn’t do anything.” You defend, voice hushed as you look over at your younger friend. “He’s just got a stick up his ass today, he’ll figure it out.”
“I hope so.” Dustin sighs, “He’s really gonna go hard with this campaign today, clearly.”
And it’s a stark difference from his usual relaxed demeanor as he directs the narrative, almost harsh in the way he delivers his lines. It’s almost like he’s attempting to rush through, which is unlike him, entirely left field from what you’re used to.
His fingers are curled around the privacy screen setup at his end of the table, eyes glancing up at you every so often. He thinks you don’t notice, but you’re so hyper aware that it’s impossible not to.
“Come on, Gareth—the lemures are dying, there’s no time for leisurely decision making. You either attack or flee.” Eddie demands, eyes scanning over the few of you huddled together, determine your plan of attack.
“Just fucking fireball it,” You suggest, exhausted from how hard your brain was working to follow the campaign, feeling like this was a losing battle from the beginning, “if we die, at least we’ll finally be put out of our misery.”
“Fine, fireball—we’ll fireball him.” Gareth decides, eyes glancing nervously toward you as he rolls. It’s just enough to give you that edge, ultimately defeating the horrible monster Eddie had conjured up—he smiles slightly, but it’s so faint you almost didn’t notice.
The campaign lasted nearly five hours, yet somehow, you felt energized, awake—but that was mostly the frustration that had built within you throughout the day, bothered by how irritated and distant Eddie seemed with you.
This was all his idea, originally—so how was this fair to you? Why did you have to feel guilty? It’s a partial reminder to yourself to never rely on anyone else for an orgasm, because clearly it was too difficult to even face that person afterwards (it's an absurd thing to think about, but it was true).
And while everyone else had already said their goodbyes, you lingered behind, helping him pick up like you always did, but there was a lot less talking and a lot more narrowly moving around each other, making it a point to avoid touching.
He huffs under his breath slightly, shoving the sprawled out papers into a folder, snapping it shut.
It’s a shock to your body, turning on your heels to look at him—his back was still tense, noticeable through the thin fabric of his shirt, his vest jacket slung over the back of his chair.
“Oh, would you fucking cut it out?” You nearly beg, talking to the back of him, hands thrown out to your sides in anger, balled into tight fists, “You’re acting like I scandalized you or something.”
His head turns slightly, the sharp line of his jaw visible to your eye, eyes dropping down to the floor. “Sorry,” He finally says, one of the very few words he’s spoken to you all day, “I’m not trying to—I just, don’t know what to say.”
“That’s news to me,” You laugh slightly, a little flippant sting behind your words, “If it’s really a problem we can forget it ever happened—“
“That’s not it,” He admits, turning his body to face you, sitting gently against the edge of the table, “I’ve wanted to talk to you all day—everyone is always around, though.”
You hadn’t considered that, honestly—not realizing how often Dustin or Mike trailed behind Eddie, or Gareth badgering you about some homework from the day prior as you walked to your next class, you were never truly alone, not until times like this.
Your lips pull together in a thin line, that nagging feeling of guilt eating away at you—maybe you had been too harsh on him.
“You seemed mad this morning when you gave me the dice.” He adds, idle fingers twisting his rings back into place accordingly, “I thought maybe you were upset about last night.”
“You did interrupt me,” You point out, “over something you could’ve just bothered me about at school the next morning—I was a little annoyed, don’t get me wrong.”
“But, if I hadn’t, maybe—“ Eddie starts, heading in a direction you were already well aware of.
“You’re making it awkward when it doesn’t have to be.” You remind him.
There was too much space between you both, Eddie feeling like he was on the other side of the planet, staring down meekly at his torn up Reebok’s.
“I know, I know,” He murmurs, chewing at his bottom lip, “I’ve never been in this situation before.”
“With anyone?” You ask, like Eddie gave up his free orgasm advice to anyone—it was a stupid question, but it slips out regardless.
“With a friend.” He corrects, eyes glancing up to lock with yours. “But, yeah–never with anyone else either.”
Friends. Just friends.
A friend who’s dick you pictured an awful lot, even before having him describe it to you—and even that feels dangerous to think about, knowing that you craved the idea of seeing your friend that way, stripped down and wanting.
“So, do we just forget about it then?” You ask again, more insistent this time as you approach him in small steps, “Like it never happened, right?”
“No,” Eddie says suddenly, “God, no.”
You tilt your head, pressing for more. Why? Why no?
“I can’t just forget shit like that.” He admits, his hand uncurling at his side, palm resting against the table. It’s a subconscious move, like he’s reaching toward you. “Can you?”
“I can lie and say yes, if that makes you feel better.” You tell him, soft laugh escaping your chest. “But, no—I don’t think there’s any way to just forget about it. Ignore it? Maybe. It doesn’t have to be weird, Eddie.”
“I know,” He agrees, nodding slightly, “Just—can I be honest with you?”
“Always.”
“It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.”
And you sigh a silent breath of relief, because the sentiment was shared. Your cunt buzzed at the admission, feeling something stir inside of you. You blamed it on the lack of sexual interaction; it was a natural, after sharing something so intimate, that you couldn’t help but feel guilty thinking about—still, you were definitely thinking about it.
Eventually you arrived at his side, taking a careful seat on the side of the table beside him, feet perched up in a chair. He was silent again, thinking, following you closely with his eyes.
“That’s fair,” You shrug, deciding to not clue him in on your own selfish thoughts, his hands, his mouth, all of him; all over you, “Did you think I was going to make fun of you for it or something?”
“Maybe,” He says softly, eyes glancing from your face to the small gap between you both, hands pressed against the table, pinkies only a few inches apart. “I feel like I pressured you or something, which wasn’t my intention at all, I just—“
You don’t feel regret—shame maybe, at the idea that you couldn’t get the memory out of your mind, but there wasn’t an ounce of regret to be felt. “Eddie, I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I didn’t want to—it’s okay.”
You swallow your words for a moment, debating carefully on how to switch the conversation to something less debilitating.
“Besides, you’re pretty good at it.”
It isn’t what you mean to say, but it comes out anyway.
“Helping you come?” And the words are so crass to hear coming from his mouth, inches away from you, but you can’t help the way your stomach turns, fluttering pleasantly. “Really?”
He’s laughing and you can both agree that it’s a ridiculous topic to discuss, but neither of you bothers to stop.
You shrug, head tilted up to look at him, “Like I said, I don’t have anything to compare it to—but it was pretty good.”
“You’re so difficult to understand,” Eddie responded with fondness, a small smile spreading across his face, deep smile lines in his cheek making you blush, face warm with embarrassment.
“All you have to do is ask questions, Eddie—I don’t bite.”
Eddie gives you an unsure look, almost mocking in the way that he doesn’t fully believe you.
“Was everything you said true?” He finally asks, curiosity racking his brain. Part of him can’t believe you, it doesn’t seem real. Ruin me, Eddie. I want you to ruin me. It was the single most earth shattering thing he’s ever heard someone say to him.
You nod feebly, maintaining a comfortable eye contact, admiring the way Eddie looked at you freely now, less restricted and apprehensive—his eyes looked warm under the theater room lighting, pools of dark honey, dangerously inviting. “I wasn’t lying. I’ve really never done anything.”
“What about the time you had to kiss Gareth on that dare?”
You snort softly, remembering how mortified Gareth looked in the moment, having no courage to actually go through with it. “You were there! He kissed my cheek, remember? He was terrified.”
“Oh, yeah,” It dawned on him, a burst of laughter bellowing from his mouth—and the thing about Eddie, he always laughed with his full body, the sound vibrating throughout him. He was as physical with his actions as you’ve ever seen among anybody; so distinct to him, “well, sorry.”
“Sorry?” You’re confused, eyebrows pinching together. “For me not being kissed? It’s not that big of a deal, you know.”
“Everyone should get to experience it once,” He defends, hands shoved deep into his front pockets as he shrugs, his head leaned down far enough that his bangs almost obscured his eyes—still, he was looking at you, “it’s important.”
“I’m eighteen—I still have time.” You remind him, “Plus, not everyone has their first kiss at fourteen, Eddie. Some of us are late bloomers.”
Eddie huffs a laugh, seeing the rightful argument you were making—despite that, he couldn’t shake the fact of the matter and what you’d said to him. Had it been true? Was it just a heat of the moment thing? Ruin me. It rang through his head again.
“If it bothers you that much—kiss me.”
The boldness is sudden, but you were over the harping about it—get it out of the way; easily taken care of. Eddie wasn’t a stranger, he was someone you genuinely trusted.
“You sure?” You admire that care he has, leaning away from you slightly to get a full view of your face, noticing just how serious you were.
“If you don’t do it, I will.” You challenge him, feeling your inside burn with anticipation.
Despite Eddie’s unconstrained confidence, he’s second guessing himself during, possibly, the most crucial moment he’s had so far in his young life. He watches the way your eyebrows draw up, almost a—well, what are you waiting for?—type of expression washing over your face.
He shuts everything off; his mind, his thoughts, his anxiety, and leans forward.
His palm is really warm, burning against the already hot skin of your cheek, blushed red with how easily he gave in—you half expected him to back out, stutter his way out of another conversation with you today. And his lips, they’re soft; not like you would expect, still cracked from his constant habit of licking his lips, but they’re plush and warm and perfect as they glide against your own in a careful dance—a balance of sincerity and care.
You make a small noise, a tiny little gasp, feeling the back of Eddie’s hand—the one not holding your face, creeping around to the small of your back, pulling you toward him as he moves to stand between your legs, leaving you crowded back against the table. It’s hard to process while Eddie is kissing you so thoughtfully.
It’s innocent and explorative, but he’s desperately trying not to cross any boundaries, only ghosting the top of his tongue across your top lip by accident when he kisses back too enthusiastically, feeling the way your chest arches toward him, wanting to feel closer to him. You’ve never made out with anyone—if you could call this that, but it’s glorious.
Your hands are still planted against the table, chair holding your legs forgotten, resting lazily against the table, the feeling of denim against denim as your inner thighs rubbed against the rough line of his jeans.
“Well, that’s another box to check off.” You say lightly, taking the opportunity to breathe as Eddie leans away, looking smug at the admission despite his early hesitation. “You really are trying to ruin me, aren’t you?”
It’s meant to sound playful, but it strikes a cord deep inside of Eddie.
“Only if you want me to.” He supplies, taking a small step back, still close enough that you can feel his body heat radiating off of him,
You smile so hard your eyes squint, eyelashes touching at the corners. There was always something about Eddie that you couldn’t quite put your finger on—but maybe this was it. He was a solid reminder that you could enjoy yourself; indulge in what you wanted and not take everything so seriously. He was a needed distraction in your life and you were welcoming it with open arms.
“Give me a ride home?” You ask shyly, poking at his hipbone playfully. Eddie chuckles, grabbing the tender spot like you’d wounded him.
“Your chariot awaits, princess.” Eddie bows, fishing for the keys in his pocket as his arm extends out in waiting.
☆.｡.:*
Eddie’s humming along to the beginnings of another Dio song, kept at a comfortably low volume so it doesn’t burst your eardrums—he knows how much you hate the loud music, despite actually enjoying most of his song choices.
The drive is slow, peaceful—the sticky and warm humid of the air leaking through the half cracked windows; nights like these make you hate the end of summer, the heat nearly unbearable some days.
“The windows still busted,” He tells you, “Otherwise I’d roll it down more.”
“It’s okay, Eddie.” You assure him, pulling at the loose shirt you had on, slipping it over your head—luckily you spare some of your modesty for him, a thin strapped tank top underneath.
It bared a small bit of your midriff—though, Eddie didn’t seem like he was bothered, not from your perspective anyways.
“Any plans tonight?” Eddie asks, hoping to break the silence that had fallen, glancing over at you sparingly.
You smirk to yourself, reading around the context of the question without Eddie realizing. He wasn’t as smooth as he thought he was, clearly.
“You can call me, if that’s what you’re wondering.” You reply smugly, legs crossed over the other, hands resting against your thighs, fingers looped together loosely.
“You—you want me to call?”
“Sure,” You shrug indifferently, “We are still friends, Eddie—we’ve talked on the phone before; if it leads to more…well—“ You shrug again, offering a small, reserved smile.
His brain is not capable of processing this shit. Eddie always had the worst luck in the world, plans always turning upside down on him, things never working out—but this, he couldn’t let this one go. He’s got an idea swirling in his head, but he’s too afraid to say it outright.
“What’s your curfew again?” Eddie asks casually, fingers tapping against the worn steering wheel, the lack of luminosity from the street lights makes it hard to examine his expression, his heart thrumming in his chest like a jackrabbit—it felt like it was going to burst out any second.
“Uh, ten,” You respond, offering a puzzled expression. You quickly grab his wrist, glancing at his watch, “It’s only eight, so I’ve got a couple hours.”
Eddie nods silently, turning down a street that definitely did not lead to your home. His mischievous nature gives him away immediately.
“Eddie,” You speak carefully, drawing out his name, “If this is going to get us arrested you better turn around.”
“Hey, last time was a fluke—“ He defends, quickly skipping past the topic, “besides, you’re safe with me.”
“I know.”
Eddie smiles, turning around a long bend, leading to a closed off wooded area, large lake off in the distance.
“Lover’s Lake?” Confusion hits you, watching Eddie’s eager hands twist the keys from the ignition, bouncing out of his seat and toward your side, opening the door.
“Gotta start your rebellion at some point, right?” He grins, nodding toward the lake.
Your face pulls up, nose scrunched in confusion. Eddie laughs loudly, slipping off the jacket—which despite the heat, he still wore; it was true dedication. But, it doesn’t take you long to fit together the pieces of the puzzle that Eddie was conveniently leaving out.
“Skinny dipping?” Eyes wide, they follow Eddie’s departing figure, jacket tossed haphazardly on the hood of his van. “Eddie—I can’t!”
“Why not?”
“You’re kidding me?” He was so infuriating.
Yet, you still followed him, eagerly.
“What? I won’t look.” Eddie shrugs, toeing off his shoes when you reach the point where water meets muddy foliage. “You’re always talking about how you want to experience more—well, why not this?”
“What if someone comes out here?”
No one ever came out to Lover’s Lake anymore, you both knew that. It was a weak attempt to feign your disinterest, but really, you were a giant bundle of nerves.
“Look—it’s hot as shit, I’m jumping in. You can watch or join, I’m leaving that up to you.” Eddie pulled his shirt over his head, skin stretching over his back—you’ve never realized how beautiful shoulders could be until you’ve seen Eddie’s.
But really, everything was beautiful on him.
“Dammit.” You mumble to yourself, Eddie reaching for the button of his jeans—and you want to avert your eyes, you do, but he’s doing it on purpose; hoping for you to steal a look, a glance—hell, even a peak. It wasn’t like you didn’t already have a vivid picture in your head.
“Last chance, princess.” He calls out, slipping his jeans and boxers off in one fluid movement.
“Eddie!” You gasp, somehow still shocked by his boldness; part of you couldn’t help not being able to grasp what was happening.
He turns to you, hands grasped over the part of himself that you were most intrigued about, your eyes stay locked on his, despite how hard you fight the urge to glance down. Eddie’s looking at you, almost expectantly. You hated how right he was; how badly you wanted to experience as much as possible, yet terrified at the idea.
“Shit—fine, I’ll do it.” You finally cave, Eddie grins wide, turning on his heels to skitter towards the water; the glance you steal of his ass is purely indulgence.
☆.｡.:*
Eddie is underneath the water as you tread through, the cold water against your skin feeling foreign, heart racing in your chest as you dip far enough beneath the surface that enough of your breasts are covered, your hair sticking against your skin from the water splashing back in your face.
“How does it feel?” Eddie asks suddenly, heading popping above the surface, pushing his wet hair away from his face.
It’s strange, not having half of his hair obscuring his face. You smile, though your tone is still entirely deadpan and serious.
“Cold.”
“Not the water,” He laughs, flicking a droplet at your face, “your heart’s racing, isn’t it?”
You nod sheepishly, eyes wandering toward the shore. It was dead, dark, not a car or person in sight. You had nothing to worry about, yet somehow, you couldn’t help but worry—though, it was all mostly harmless.
“We’re safe.” He assures you, wading closer. “Here,” He takes a handful of water and pours it over your hair, wetting the rest of what wasn’t submerged in the lake, “that’s better.”
Your lips purse at the water that drips down your face, eyes squinting at Eddie’s expression; the smugness was evident.
“You’re enjoying yourself too much.” You point out, shoving his hand away gently. “How often do you do this?”
Five, ten, maybe a hundred times, no doubt.
“Never,” Eddie admits, “this is the first time.”
Your hands surface to push his shoulder, a little rougher than you intended. “Then how do you know this is safe?”
He senses your panic, grasping your elbow, his fingers settling in the dip of it, adjusting you to look toward his now abandoned van. “Look,” He points out a particular bend in the forest, a place that looks clear enough but still gives a decent view of the water, “I come out here at least once a week, just to smoke—Wayne hates the smell in the trailer, so, I try to improvise. Either way—no one ever comes out here anymore. Well, aside from me and a few homeless people, but I promise. We’re completely safe.”
You sigh, that small tinge of doubt in your stomach starting to dissipate, still hyper aware of his burning touch, even through the bitter cold of the water.
“You’re corrupting me, you know.” You confess, face turned away from him as you moved away, swimming further from the shore, feet barely touching the lake floor. “Is this all a part of your master plan, Eddie?”
You’re joking, he knows that. He can hear it in your voice, but the idea has something twisting inside of him. Eddie smiles, unbeknownst to you.
“You caught me.”
“You called me the other night with a plan, huh?” You press.
No, he hadn’t.
“Maybe,” He agrees with you, the splash of the waves against your back indicating that he was moving closer, you could hear him, almost predatorily slow. “Does that bother you?”
You shrug. It didn’t, not in the slightest.
“So, what’s your plan now?” You push, feeling the tip of his chest brush against your shoulder blades, just hovering.
And truly, he didn’t have one. It was an idea born out of spontaneity and Eddie flowed from one step to the next, not sure what he was expecting to happen. But, he feels it—the sense of tension that was building, lingering between you both like it had during the call from the previous night.
“Well,” His fingers brush the hair away from your shoulder, touch ghosting over your skin. You can feel his breath, his lips, right against the shell of your ear. You try desperately to hold back the full body shiver that runs through you, “want to check another box off your list?”
His forwardness is an act, a mask to cover how fucking nervous he was. His hands shook as they curled around the back of your neck, but you couldn’t see it—only feeling the dip of his thumb at the start of your spine.
Your head leans back on its own accord, his lips coming into full contact with the side of your face—and he chuckles, you can’t help the way your cunt clenches at the sound, not daring to make any sort of eye contact with your friend, who was pressing himself up against you so openly—feeling every point of him, despite the hindrance of the water. You gulped softly, too quiet for Eddie to hear.
“What do you have in mind?” You finally speak, voice sounding pathetically weak.
“You trust me, right?” He speaks softly, his unoccupied hand reaching around to cover the expanse of your stomach, turning you gently until you face him, “I just want to hear you say it.”
It’s the only thing he cares about—despite the weird mess you’ve both tangled yourself in, he wanted to make sure you were comfortable, the idea of pushing you into something you didn’t want was the last thing he needed.
You nod slowly, his hand creeping around to caress the side of your face, thumb pressed against your jaw as he angles your face to look at him. Say it, his eyes speak, making contact with yours. “Yes, I trust you.”
☆.｡.:*
Eddie’s deliberate in the way he kisses you this time, no fear of having to hold back, it’s full and pleasant and everything you had always expected it to be—albeit, not with Eddie, but you weren’t complaining. His hands are buried in your hair, angling your head up to reach his lips, leaving you to chase them desperately every time he pulls away, adjusting you until you’re pressed up against, nothing but bare skin against bare skin, the peaks of your breasts surface just above the water. The water ripples against your already sensitive nipples, gasping openly into Eddie’s mouth.
Eddie laughs lowly, pulling back to make eye contact with you, his gaze burning into your own. “Sensitive?” He asks coyly. You roll your eyes in casual annoyance, the smirk on his face growing by the second.
“Cold. It’s cold, Eddie.” And truly, it was. Even with the kiss of summer heat and humidity against your skin, the water was nearly freezing. “Want to tell me what you have planned so we can move this along—maybe somewhere out of the water?”
“How do you feel about me going down on you?” He asks sweetly, almost sickening. “That is, if you’re up for it.”
Did he think you were scared? Suddenly faced with the reality of everything, staring him down face to face, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride run through your body, realizing just how badly Eddie wanted you. He’s never been this sweet—to anyone.
Eddie knew you were special; different from all the rest, in all the best ways. He knew that from the moment he’d met you, set you up in Hellfire and neatly tucked you under his wing, along with the rest of his friends—but you, you were the one who he thought about when he was most vulnerable, the only person who really knew who he was.
“Gotta see if there’s any truth to those claims, right?” You counter, his face twitching up in amusement.
He doesn’t give you time to react before he’s hauling your legs up and over his hips, wading through water until he’s back on land. He ignores the haphazard pile of clothes, despite your protests, swinging open the door to his van with a free hand, other gripping tightly around your waist. You want to protest, complain and force him to put you down, but made some excuse about not wanting you to get dirty—despite how dirty you felt now, being settled down onto the base of his van, blanket already spread out from Eddie’s frequent use of the space for his own hotbox sessions, he even has a couple of thread-worn pillows shoved in the corner.
And it’s not until you’re finally settled that you realize how intensely Eddie is watching you, hands settled at the base of your ankles. His naked, completely bare—and you can’t remember any other time you’ve seen it before; someone so unashamed of their body, taking time to admire your own just as much. You’ve seen his tattoos up close before, but not like this–the small flurry of bats over his arm, or the few that lingered over his chest, now flushed a light pink from how deeply he was indebted in this.
“Sorry—“ He finally says, noting the small glide of his hands up your shins, then back down, like he’s caressing your legs, “just trying to take a mental note, in case I’m a disappointment and this never happens again.”
You let out a gasp that quickly turns into a small giggle, shoving him gently in the stomach. You were guilty, doing almost the exact same.
He’s toned, which isn’t a surprise—he didn’t try to hide it, those occasionally too tight shirts giving him away. His skin is milky, alabaster white and muddled with light freckles, the trail of hair at the top of his chest leading down to his lower abdomen, just at the base of his dick—which, seriously? He had enough to be proud about, but you half expected him to lie during the call, boost himself up; it was all true. Every single bit.
He’s not fully hard, but it’s still enough to intimidate you—Eddie clears his throat unnecessarily, left eyebrow quirked in amusement.
“Are you still with me?” He asks, arms crawling forward to lean over you slightly, body like a curtain against your own. You try not to think about the proximity, how easily you could reach up and pull him to you, feel that glide of his cock against you—just to put you both out of your misery.
“Hey, you get to see mine, it’s only fair I get to see yours.”
He laughs at that, brushing hair away from your face, lips settling against the line of your jaw, a small chaste peck, then switching to the other side to repeat the process. “Any judgments to be made?” He asks curiously, almost teasing.
“I’m not giving you anymore unnecessary ego boosts, sweetheart.” You say with a saccharine type of sweetness.
Eddie doesn’t need you to elaborate, that was already enough of an ego boost in itself. He tries to ignore the way you’re looking at him, so intently; not that he didn’t want you present in the situation, but he felt like you were looking right through him, sensing every bit of anxiety and nerves that riddled his body like a sickness. It wasn’t his first go at this, but with you—he was too afraid to fuck up.
You see the gears in his brain working overtime, trying to jump that initial hurdle of awkwardness—thankfully, you knew just what to do.
“Can I?” You ask, nodding down to where your hand grazed against his stomach, just above the line of his groin.
“Uh—yeahyeah, of course.” He rushes out, watching your timid fingers graze the tip of his dick, gently grabbing the base of his shaft. You didn’t know what to expect, but the way Eddie’s leaning into your touch is a good enough indication that you weren’t totally fucking things up.
“What feels good?” You ask shyly, your hand at a slow, graceful pace as you tug at him, watching the way he’s forcing himself to breath slower, through his nose.
He rocks his hips gently in time with your hand, “Tighter—a little—yeah, that’s good.” He says, feeling your hand tighten around his cock, the groan he forced back down has you lighting up, almost smiling at the revelation of how easily worked up Eddie could get; it wasn’t a wonder why he had a hard time holding himself off.
“Is this better?” You ask softly, “then—you know, your own hands?”
He chuckles at your curiosity, eyes glancing up to look at you, hair already partly dry, his bangs curtaining his eyes. He had such a timid innocence to him, under this light, in the belly of what could be something dangerous for your friendship—but, neither of you could seem to care anymore.
“So much better.” He nods gently, groaning outwardly at the movement of your thumb sliding over the head of his cock, a small pearl of precum wetting your finger; so you do it again. A few times, until he’s rocking up into your hand in earnest.
“Fuck—we gotta stop.” He warns, swatting your hand away kindly, fingers wrapping around the length of your wrist.
You want to pout, like some spoiled child—but instead you sigh, letting him guide your hands back toward your chest. He doesn’t give much warning before he leans in, capturing the bud of your nipple between his teeth, gently, but the sting is still there—quickly soothed away by the flat of his tongue.
“So pretty–just like I imagined.” He admits pathetically, speech muffled against your skin. That was something to unpack for another day.
You gasped, feeling his mouth capture the other, repeating the process before leaving small, open mouthed caresses against your breasts—you weren’t even sure if you would call them kisses, but they felt good. The warmth of his mouth, the wetness of his tongue, suddenly it was hot again, stuffy in the small containment of the back of his van.
You moan, so softly you weren’t even sure he’d hear it. But, of course he does, pulling back with a salacious and satisfied smile, reaching up to capture your lips in a kiss that can only be described as breathtaking.
Friends definitely didn’t kiss like this. Absolutely not.
“Eddie—Eddie, I still have a curfew.” You force through his assailant of kisses, his tongue a small tease as it traces your bottom lip. You warn him again, this time forcing him to look at you.
And friends definitely didn’t look at each other like that.
☆.｡.:*
He settles between your thighs soon after, wrapping his arms around the outside of your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there, spreading you open wide, leaving you almost no place to hide.
You take a long, deep breath—reminding yourself that you had nothing to worry about, you were safe here.
“You ready?” Eddie asks, a bouncy eagerness to his voice, feeling the heat of his breath against your cunt, what once was a dull buzz now a steady pulse inside you, deep and needy.
You nod eagerly, Eddie’s hang reaching up to spread your folds apart, finger dragging through jestingly.
“Eddie.” You warn, or beg—you're not sure which, but he understands. You weren't ready for him to sink his fingers inside you, afraid this would all be over quicker than you both wanted.
“I won’t.” He assures you, just applying the small bit of pressure you need to keen forward, grind against the flat of his palm. It was a lot like your own hand, in a way—but also completely foreign. “Just wanna ease you into it.”
And he does, letting you chase the gentle glide of his fingers against your folds, occasionally dragging over the swell of your clit, your hips chasing his hand, over and over again, desperately.
“Need it,” You beg, propped up on your elbows to look down at him, “wanna know.”
You were dying; dying to know.
He bites at the inside of your thigh, soothing the skin with his tongue, trailing a line of quick nips up the sensitive skin. You make a small noise of complaint, begging him to put you out of your misery.
Eddie doesn’t waste anymore time, leaning forward to lick a broad stripe up the seam of your cunt—even the first touch has you reeling, hand immediately tangled in the damp mess of curls at the top of his head.
You hear the messy, embarrassingly loud shlick of your wetness as he laps it, small kitten licks as he leans forward to focus on the soft buttony point of pleasure, sucking experimentally.
It should be a criminal how fucking good Eddie is with his mouth.
“Ohoh—okay, huh,” You ramble breathlessly, moaning out a sensical plethora of nonsense, noises that has Eddie groaning against you, vibrations like a wave of euphoria crashing down on you, “fuck, that feels really good.”
“Keep talking,” He urges, pulling away for half a second before he’s diving back in, face buried so deep into your cunt that you can’t even breath, tongue dipping inside of you carefully.
It caught you off guard completely, gasping out loudly into the air.
“Fuck, Eddie.” And friends definitely don’t say each other’s names like that.
“Too much?” He asks, his expression worried.
You shake your head fervently, “No—good. It’s so good,” You tell him, feeling the lack of motivation to form words now, despite his prior urges. “Keep going, please.”
And he does, openly groaning against your pussy, the sight of him grinding his hips down into blanket; it was something you couldn’t believe with your own eyes, but had you fighting off the urge to turn him over and sink down onto him, no more harping on the big red sign that said ‘I’m a virgin’—you wanted Eddie to consume that part of you completely.
“Come on, baby, wanna hear those pretty little noises.”
You could disintegrate into nothing at those words, letting the soft, wanton moans that you’d been holding back out, spurring him deeper and deeper into his own chase for pleasure, his mouth less controlled—more distracted, but still fucking incredible. He’s so desperate to come with you, reaching down to grab ahold of his cock, pulling idly as he kept up his lazy pace against the inner folds of your cunt, moaning out as his thumb slides over the tip of his cock, precum coating his fingers, making a mess of his own hand.
He speeds up the movement of his tongue, dragging over your clit relentlessly, using his hand to wrap around yours, still buried in his hair, forcing you to pull tighter. And it shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise—but it is, how easily it turns Eddie on by it. You pull roughly, enough to have him moving away from you, looking up at you with wide, dark eyes; pupils blown out.
“Use my face,” He urges, “I want you to.”
You do, chasing exactly what you want—Eddie eagerly slurping up your wetness, grinding your cunt selfishly into him, the tip of nose dragging over your clit sends you toppling over over the edge. He grips both of your thighs, pulling you as wide as your hips allowed—and he’s still going, overstimulating you past the point of what you can handle. He’s drunk on the sounds you’re making, forgetting where he is for the moment. You yank at his hair, hard enough that he groans out, pulling away from your cunt as you rode through your orgasm, you pulse over and over again, nothing there to satiate that need—leaving a dull ache where you were desperate for Eddie to be, fill you up completely; it doesn’t stop you from sobbing out a broken, “Fuck!” as you start to come down, eyes closing from the intensity of your own orgasm.
When you finally come to, Eddie’s face is scrunched up, nose wrinkled at the bridge. His tone is soft, but forced.
“Shitshit—“ He curses, head still held up by the grip you had in his hair, his face tightening as he came, mouth hung open in a silent plea.
You take a second to catch your breath, “What the fuck?” You ask, the ‘was that?’ on the tip of your tongue, but you’re too tired to finish.
Eddie laughs, face riddled with his own exhaustion. “Good, isn’t it?” You nod, loosening the death grip you had on his curls, smoothing out the hair to soothe the sore spot, though Eddie doesn’t seem to mind.
“I’ve never come that hard before.” You laugh, falling back against the bed of the van.
“I told you, princess—“ Seeing him from this angle should be a sin, face covered in your wetness, “there’s so much you’re missing out on.”
“No shit.” You smile softly, lifting yourself up to sit, following Eddie as he leaned away, reaching blindly for a discarded shirt in the back of the van, watching as he wiped at the front of his abdomen, covered in his own come.
His eyes flick up, noticing your intense stare, “Enjoying yourself?” He asks, challenging you to look away.
You shrug casually, eyes tracking his movements—“Wait, what time is it?” You ask, the watch on his wrist bringing you back to reality.
Eddie takes a glance at his watch, eyes widening in shared panic, “Fuck—five past ten.”
“Eddie!” You exclaim, “I’m dead—go grab our clothes.”
Eddie scrambled, racing to grab the discarded fabrics, tossing them into the space between you both, dressing quickly.
“If I get caught, you’re dead.” You warn, nearly knocking him over at the grin that spreads across his face.
He was clearly too proud of himself.
☆.｡.:*
“You’re lucky I’m a good climber.” You mention to him, eyeing the dimmed lights through the window of your home.
It was either, a.) walk through the door and risk an earful from a pair of worried parents, or b.) find a way into your second story bedroom and guilt your parents in the morning when they ask why you never came home—reminding them that, yes you did; how could they not notice?
Rebellion was becoming a normal theme in your life and you couldn’t hate how good it felt to feel—Eddie laughs softly behind you, parked across the street.
“Oh, are you?” He teases, arm sling loosely over the back of your seat.
You wish you could hate everything about him, but it was impossible, not with the way he was looking at you.
You scoff in faux disgust, shoving his face in the other direction. “You’re so gross, Eddie.”
He does watch you climb the lattice wall to your window, embarrassingly so, flipping him off in full when you’re finally able to slip through the threshold of your room, quiet enough that the only noise you make is a soft thud on the fuzzy carpet floor.
The high hits you later, curled under the sheets of your bed. It wasn’t Eddie who was influencing you, it wasn’t that easy—it’s because you wanted it. You didn’t want the idea of rebelling and doing everything that your parents tried to scare you out of, you wanted Eddie.
You wanted him as the friend he’d always been, but so much more than that. Eddie was always good at forcing you out of your comfort zone, for good, and you couldn’t help that love you had for that fear; of unknown and new experiences.
And he does call you that night, but not for any other ludicrous reason than to talk—hear you, listen to the tiny inflictions in your voice when he makes some stupid joke. He was in love with you, he already knew that—he was just waiting for you to catch up, dawn on the feeling that you had buried for so long, too afraid of rejection.
Eddie could absolutely ruin you; he already was.
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#my writing#1kfic
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