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wonderlandwalker · 18 days

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First Impressions | Eddie Munson x Reader

Stranger Things Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: Eddie learns that Dustin has a recently reunited sister, and from the moment he meets you he's a goner.

Content Warnings / Tags: Pure fluff, henderson!reader, tiny mention of a fight but nothing descriptive, not edited, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Eddie brain rot cause I couldn't keep it in. Don't know if this is my best work but I'm planning to write more chapters on this so it's just a start, hope you like it

“You need a ride home after this?” It was more of a formality than an actual question, he always drove Dustin home after a session.

“Oh that’s okay, my sister is picking me up.” Dustin didn’t even look up from packing his things away, but Eddie’s head shot up.

“Your- you have a sister, since when?” As far as he knew Dustin was an only child, but now he was wrecking his brain trying to think if he had ever mentioned you before.

“I know you’re bad at math Eddie, but I just told you she’s driving so try and put the pieces together.” Dustin was looking up at him now, challenging him.

“Alright smartass, it’s time for you to shut up.” He told him as he ruffled through his hair, leaving behind an agitated Dustin trying frantically to fix it.

The others had already gone home, but Dustin stayed behind late to help Eddie finish up, a habit that became more and more common as the two grew closer. When they finished packing up Eddie locked the door behind them, and while walking to the parking lot decided he wasn’t quite done interrogating Dustin.

“If you have an older sister, how come I've never seen her around before?”

“I mean she’s been around during holidays before, she lived with dad though but they had a big fight so she’s moved here.” It seemed like a sore topic, so Eddie dropped it for now.

As they got to the entrance of the school and felt the cool air on their skin Eddie indeed noticed another car in the usually empty lot, and you were sitting on the hood of it, a book in your hands as you patiently waited. The last rays of sunshine graced your figure as if the heavens themselves were blessing you, and Eddie had never been so sure he’d seena goddess in his life. It was just like the tales he knew so well, the ones he still devoted his life to, it was as if they were becoming true. You looked up when you heard them approach, smiling at the sight of them and giving Dustin a quick side hug as they reached you.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot of good things.” You held your hand out for Eddie to take, but all he could do was look at it, staring ahead as if hitting pause in a game, he stood still. He wanted to react, to not make the most horrible first impression possible, but the longer he looked at you the worse it got, getting lost in sight of your smile. “Alright, not a fan of handshakes, notes.” You chuckled as you withdrew your hand, and Eddie cursed himself for not having taken the opportunity to feel how soft your skin must’ve been. You looked at him again, your eyes piercing straight through his soul and he wondered if maybe he had found himself in one of his fantasy worlds, he must have. But the next second he shook himself out of it, because you were real, you were real and in front of him and expecting him to say something.

“I’m Eddie.” he said, nodding his head as if to confirm his own statement.

“So I’ve been told.” Another giggle slipped past your lips, and Eddie wasnt sure if it was from nerves or entertainment, but he was dying to hear more of it, even if he had to make a fool of himself to do so.

Dustins head kept going back and forth as if watching a tennis match of idiocracy. He had never seen Eddie so flustered, so used to the man flaunting with every opportunity that presented itself that this seemed quite out of character. In full disclosure, it was kind of freaking him out to see Eddie so beside himself, and it was freaking him out even further that he couldn’t figure out why. It was probably blatantly obvious to anyone else, but maybe it was for the best that Dustin couldn’t place where the tension originated from, either way, his patience had run out

“Can we go home now, I still have to call Mike to discuss our net strategies” You tore your eyes from Eddie, deciding that maybe it was for the best to head home.

“Yeah alright, maybe I’ll see you around Eddie.” You gave him one last smile as you got in the car with Dustin and drove off, but it took him another minute to pick his shambled ego up from the concrete ground as he berated himself for not being able to utter one coherent sentence. As he got in his van and drove home as well he decided he’d have to grill Dustin for more information on you the next time he’d see him. As he got to the trailer he grumbled a hello to Wayne before disappearing to his room, ignoring the backhanded comment he got about his grumpy disposition.

He wondered if he’d ever be able to convince you he was cool, whether he’d be able to get you to agree to see him again, but after what just transpired he figured the odds were slim. Not that he’d give up so easily, he didn’t have much of a reputation to lose and if he’d be able to get you to laugh again that would be more than enough. But he didn’t get to wonder for long as Wayne knocked on his door, he was ready to tell the man to leave him alone, but the next sentence was one that confused him immensely

“Someone on the phone for you.” Wayne held the phone out to him, expecting him to get up from the bed and take it, but Eddie didn’t move an inch.

“For me, you sure?” He was still not quite sure what to do. “Unless another Eddie is living here I’m pretty sure.” He moved his hand again to accentuate the phone that was still on hold, but once again Eddie just sat there.

“If you want I can tell her to call back-” That’s when he sprung into action, snatching the phoen out of Wayne’s hand

“No! No, I got it. Thank you.” The old man simply chuckled as he left again, closing the door behind him to give his nephew some privacy.

Eddie cleared his throat once before picking up the line put on hold.

“Hello?” he asked, still not quite sure what to do.

“Hi, Eddie it’s me, just wanted to see if you were doing alright.” your sweet voice blessed his ears once more. He doesn’t know what he did to get the universe on his side like this, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

“Yeah I’m good, listen-” Eddie figured this time he shouldn’t waste his chance, and he probably had some making up to do. “- I’m sorry if I freaked you out earlier, just never seen anyone that pretty before.” You were giggling again, and it brought the biggest grin onto his face. “You didn’t weird me out at all, it was kinda cute. I had to bribe Dustin to let me use the phone so I don’t have much time but I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out this weekend?” Maybe he should’ve waited a beart before answering, but he was too eager to care.

“Go out, as in a date?” It got him blushing, the red creeping up on his cheeks as he wondered if that’s really what you were asking

“I mean, kinda, if you want to.” He could almost see you blushing on the other side of the line as well, and he decided it was now or never.

“I’d love to.”

“That’s great, I’m still kind of new around here, do you know any good places?” Your smile was present as you spoke, and he was already looking forward to seeing it again, now knowing he wouldn’t have to wait long.

“How about I come and pick you up, we can go to the mall.” His confidence was growing with the minute now, absolutely elated by the turn of events.

“Im looking forward to it” He wondered what you’d wear, knowing whatever it was it would look beautiful on you, and he knew he’d spend the entire date amazed at your presence.

“Me too” he said before the both of you hung up the phone, he had already started planning the most amazing evening out, and maybe, he thought, maybe this year really would take a turn for the better.

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memeforaliving · 2 years

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people writing eddie munson fics: HE'S ROUGH, HE'S A FUCKER, HE DEMANDS YOU TO BE HIS SLAVE

the real eddie munson:

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie fics #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #joseph quinn

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longlivefanfic-net · 2 years

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Eddie Munson's Groupie

Summary/Content: You just really love going to Eddie’s shows–and remember the first night you ever met him. You decide to wear something a little special for one of his shows. Drinking, phone sex, masturbation, lingerie, Dom!Eddie, praise kink, lots of pet names, semi-public sex, oral (female/reader receiving), penetrative sex, slight pain kink?, porn with fluff :) Eddie Munson x reader, Eddie munson x you

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: some day i will stop fantasizing about my dream life and writing it down as eddie fanfic. today is not that day. who tf doesn’t want a hot band boyfriend come on! Also uh HELLO??? Apparently I hit the 200 follower count this weekend?? i love y'all sm omg, please enjoy your weekly literary porn <3

The sound of microphone feedback burned through your skull like touching a live wire. The bar was dark, barely anyone in the small building, but the feeling of going to Eddie’s shows never got old for you. It still felt like electricity was buzzing through the room, passing between your body and the stage. Even though the drunks at the bar barely even flinched at the squawk from the microphone, you couldn’t tamp down the fluttering in your chest as you thought about the show, about how it was your Eddie on stage.

The two of you had been dating for a while now–by his standards, at least. Eddie, you had learned, rarely kept his romantic interests around for longer than a night or two. You had gone to one of his shows, desperate for a drink alone after a particularly shitty day. You had been sitting right here, on this same beat up barstool, letting the alcohol burn your throat and numb your brain, when you had heard that same microphone whine. You had turned, seeing four men walking on to the too-small stage, standing close together as they whispered.

When they broke apart, going to their respective instruments, your eyes had initially followed the guy with medium-length curls (Gareth, you knew now) as he walked to the back of the stage, sliding onto his drum seat. You had looked him over, deciding that even though he played drums he wasn’t quite your type, and turned back to the bar and your drink.

When you heard an uneven, low voice call out “Welcome to our regulars, and the not-so regulars,” you had turned back around, already half laughing at whoever these guys thought they were. There was something so pretentious, so funny about the way the guy at the mic addressed the crowd–like it was a packed bar full of hot girls begging to go home with him instead of seven middle-aged men, the bartender, and you. But when you saw him, standing there, pressed against the microphone in the neon glow of beer signs, already looking at you, your laugh turned into a smile.

He had winked, then turned back to the band and nodded. He tossed his long hair over his shoulder, and the band had started playing. They weren’t half bad, you had thought to yourself. Mostly covers, but a few original songs throughout the night. You found yourself nodding along to some of the songs, and the lead guitarist had grinned at you when he caught your eye. You finished your drink halfway through their set and ordered another, unwilling to pry yourself away from the man on the stage until he was done.

You figured he would lose his charm afterwards. He’d put down the guitar, come out from under the lights, and be just like every other guy you’d been temporarily infatuated with: douchebag by day, wannabe by night. But when the band finished their set, he’d set down his guitar, clapped his friends on the shoulder, stepped off the stage–and walked to the opposite end of the bar from you. You had blushed, actually, when you had realized he wasn’t going to come over and talk to you; it wasn’t that you expected it so much as it was that it had seemed inevitable.

He had given you so much attention that night that you were surprised he wasn’t going to make a move. You had tossed back the rest of your drink, planning to get out of the tiny bar and never come back before anyone saw how embarrassed you were. When you stood up, however, you found that the booze had gone to your head; you swayed slightly on your feet, gripping the bar.

“Woah there,” said a soft voice, a hand pressing to your waist. “You okay?” You had turned, halfway expecting one of the old drunks to be taking advantage of this opportunity to grope you, but it was the guy from the band instead. He was smiling at you, softly, and his eyes sparkled with a poorly-hidden laugh. “Just trying to go home,” you had said, cheeks burning as you looked down. “I don’t know about that,” he had said, guiding you back to your seat gently. “Hey, Patricia?” He had called to the bartender. “Can we get two glasses of water down here?”

When the glasses were set in front of you, he slid sideways between you and the man next to you, pressing his body closer to yours than was really appropriate for a stranger, and picked up one of the glasses. He held it aloft, waiting for you to wrap your fingers around the other one, then touched his glass to yours. “Cheers,” he had said, eyes on yours as he grinned. You took a tentative sip of the water, watching him out of the corner of your eye. “Going to take more than that if I’m letting you drive home,” he said, wiping his mouth.

The two of you spent the next three hours in almost that exact same position. The man on the stool next to you left, eventually, and Eddie had hopped into his seat immediately. He made sure you drank two full glasses of water before he even considered letting you leave on your own, and even then he asked to follow you home to make sure you got there safely. You had laughed, giving a gentle tug to one of his long curls that had somehow ended up wrapped around your finger, and reprimanded him. “How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” You had asked, lifting an eyebrow suggestively. “You could be trying to get me back to my place so you can take my virtue and my head.”

Eddie had blushed, slightly, and you had sat back, satisfied with yourself. “I’d say I’m really not the serial killer type, but most of the people in this town wouldn’t agree with that,” he had laughed. “How about this instead–I’m going to give you my number and you call me when you get home. So that way I know you’re in bed, safe and sound, virtue intact.” You had blushed in return, Eddie grinning devilishly as he used your own words against you.

When you had gotten home, you had slid on top of the covers, still dressed and intending to shower before settling in for the night. You looked at your hand, at Eddie’s scrawl in black ink across your palm, and had debated–heavily–about leaving it alone. He was hot, sure, and he had seemed nice for the hours you had talked, but the odds of him being just another rockstar wanna-be looking for a one night stand? Higher than you wanted them to be. But you couldn’t shake the image of him leaning into the mic stand, grinning at you like you were the only person at the bar that night. You had bitten your bottom lip, hard, and then lifted the receiver next to your bed, settling it on the mattress near where you threw yourself back down after dialing the numbers on your skin.

You waited while the phone rang, wondering if he had even made it back to his place yet or if an answering machine might eventually pick up. You had just decided to hang up, giving up on the hope that you might leave him a tape of yourself saying, “It’s the girl from the bar? I got home safe?” when there was finally a click on the other end of the line. You heard a deep inhale, a pause, and a smooth exhale. “So you got home, I take it?” His voice was low and smooth, creating images in your mind of him sitting in a worn recliner, cigarette between his lips in a dark room. “Mm-hm,” you had replied, voice immediately lowering to match his. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Good,” Eddie had said, “I’m glad you sobered up with me. Though I wouldn’t mind taking you home next time.” You laughed, slightly, almost rolling your eyes. “You know,” Eddie had said, voice crackling through the receiver, “I like a girl that can follow directions.” You had felt your face heat slightly at the words, a low throbbing immediately starting between your thighs. “Really?” You had asked. Eddie had practically purred his assent, and you had whispered “Why don’t you give me some more?”

“Put the receiver in your other hand.” You did as he told you, switching the phone to your non-dominant hand. When you had the phone pressed back against your ear, you could hear a metallic jingling and slight shuffling on his end–his belt, you assumed, coming undone before he shifted his pants down. “Are you still dressed?” You nodded, then murmured a quick yes when you remembered Eddie couldn’t see you. “Pull your pants down.” You shimmied the material over your hips, down your thighs, finally kicking them off the end of your bed to puddle on the floor. “Got ‘em off for me?” When you whispered another “mm-hmm,” Eddie snickered. “Good girl,” he whispered, and you felt the heat pooling in your core intensify.

“I want you to take your fingers and trail the fingernails over your nipple for me first.” After a moment of silence, Eddie’s voice hummed in your ear: “Now pinch it. Then twist.” You gasped, slightly, at the feeling of your own fingers against your skin, the roughness with which you handled yourself at his insistence. “Oh, that’s my girl,” Eddie groaned at the sound of your gasp. You could hear his breath starting to come a little faster, a little deeper on each inhale. “Pretend your fingers are mine, pretty girl, and brush them down your ribs…over your stomach…trace your nails over your hip for me, gorgeous…does it feel like I’m there with you?” “Yes,” you whispered, throat half-choked by embarrassment and half by lust. “Use my name for me, sweet thing.” “Yes, Eddie,” you repeated.

He groaned into the receiver, soft and low, and you inadvertently pushed your thighs together, rolling your hips for friction. “God, my name sounds so fucking pretty in your mouth,” he murmured, and you couldn’t stop yourself: “What next, Eddie?” When he moaned, you felt your mouth spread into a wide grin. “You’re gonna touch yourself for me now, baby girl.” Your breath hitched, just barely, in your throat, and he chuckled again. “Gonna need you to tell me exactly what you feel like, too.” You swallowed, hard, and placed your fingers on your already-slick outer lips. “Wet, Eddie,” you whispered. “Fuck,” he had moaned, and you felt yourself throbbing inside with how badly you wanted him, wanted him here in your bed with you, one night stand or not.

“You want me inside of you, pretty girl?” You could only whimper in return. “Go ahead, then.” You slipped your fingers in between your lips, sliding them up through your slit to cover them in your own need. When you finally pushed your fingers inside of yourself, eyes closed as you pictured Eddie over you, you couldn’t stop the soft gasp that came from your throat; your body felt like it had been electrified when you heard Eddie make his own gasp in return.

“Good girl,” he murmured over the line. “How’s that feel?” “So good, Eddie,” you half-moaned. “What do you feel like? On your fingers?” Eddie’s voice was so low now, so heavy with his own lust, you lost any of the embarrassment you had felt before. “Warm,” you sighed into the mouthpiece, “Warm, and tight, and wet, Eddie, I’m so fucking wet.” He had groaned again, a soft sound that you could almost feel breaking over your chest like he was planting it there with his soft mouth. “Rub your clit for me.” When you inhaled, slightly, as you lifted your hips and did as he asked, Eddie’s growl came racing through the receiver: “You’re doing so good for me, pretty girl.”

His words, combined with the feeling of your fingers rubbing circles into your most sensitive nerves as your hips thrusted up, helped you over the edge; you made sure not to stifle yourself, knowing how badly Eddie would want to hear the sounds that broke from your chest as the tension in your body snapped, relief ebbing over you as your muscles soothed themselves. Eddie heard you and half-choked, a groan working it’s way out through his chest as he stammered into the receiver. He almost whimpered, right as he finished, and you could hear his panting breaths start to slow.

For a moment, that was the only sound over the phone line: the two of you, breathing hard as you basked in the glow of your fresh release. “So,” Eddie said, clearing his throat slightly. “Glad you called?” You couldn’t stop the slight chuckle from bubbling up through your chest. “Yeah, I guess.” “You guess. You guess? Come on,” Eddie said, and you could just imagine him with his hand over his heart like an offended old woman. “I think I earned a little more than you guess.” “Fine,” you had said, laughing outright now. “I’m glad I called. I’m glad you told me to.” “Like I said, I like a girl who takes direction.”

You felt yourself blush slightly at his words, the sound of his previous “directions” still ringing in your ears. You listened, quietly waiting for him to say more. The silence stretched on, not awkward but comforting. “You shower that bar smell off yet, sweetheart?” You told him no, and you could almost hear his grin down the line. “You go do that and then go to bed. And then come to the show tomorrow night too.”

That had been all it had taken for the two of you to become all but inseparable. The next night, after your second Corroded Coffin show of many, you had left your car in the parking lot, riding with Eddie back to his trailer where you spent the night wrapping parts of you around parts of him. When the sun had come up, he had brought you a mug full of coffee to bed and kissed you, slow and soft like he hadn’t the night before, and you knew you were going to stick around as long as he’d let you. At this point, you were a regular at the bar–you didn’t even bother to bring your ID in anymore because all of the bartenders knew you by name.

But tonight was going to be different. You had really enjoyed the last few months with Eddie, and you wanted to do something special, something out of the ordinary just for him. In the time since you had first called him, the two of you had had sex just about everywhere you could: Eddie’s trailer, your place, the back of his van, the cramped bathroom at the bar, even Gareth’s garage after band practice once (though you had sworn off Corroded Coffin rehearsals after that–you were convinced you and Eddie had stained the old couch he had pressed you into, and you didn’t think you could handle the embarrassment of any of them knowing it was you who had done it). You usually just wore the first pair of underwear and bra that your fingers found while getting dressed in the morning, and you never thought twice about it; your clothes didn’t usually stay on long enough for it to matter, anyway.

You doubted Eddie would have ever even noticed if your bra had matched your panties, as quick as he was to get you topless and bite at the thin skin. But still, you’d built a fairly nice collection of lingerie over the years–you had an entire drawer, lined with a pillowcase and with a small sachet of dried rose petals, lavender, and cedar to softly scent the fabrics. Different cuts and forms, different materials, different colors; you didn’t have a particular preference for any one style. It always gave you a little thrill when you pulled something out of that drawer, sliding it against your bare skin while knowing that you’d go about the rest of your day as if you were wearing the same old cotton briefs, as if you weren’t dressed like someone’s wet dream come to life under your clothes.

When you had left Eddie’s place earlier, insisting that you just needed to go home to shower and change before tonight because your stash of clean clothes in his closet didn’t have the right look, he had rolled his eyes. “Babe,” he had said to you, propped up against the wall as he sat on the mattress and picked at his guitar. “You could literally wear anything and you’ll still be the hottest chick in there. Just grab one of my shirts or something.” But you had refused, saying you wanted to really hone your “rockstar girlfriend” look.

“Besides,” you had said, pressing a goodbye kiss against his soft lips, his mouth falling open to invite you to stay a little longer as you stood up and took a step back. “Don’t you want the guys to be jealous of you?” Eddie had crowed at that, tossing his head back. “They already are, baby,” he said, cocking his head to the side as his lips twisted into a half-smile. You had promised to see him tonight, then driven back to your own place.

You had torn through your closet, all of the clothes you didn’t wear often enough to justify taking up any of the limited space at Eddie’s picked over and considered. Some of Eddie’s clothes were there too, for the odd night he’d come to your place instead. Eventually, you had settled on a black skirt, a little too-short for you to have worn it before, the Corroded Coffin shirt Eddie had made for you, and one of his black and red flannels open over it. You looked at yourself in the mirror, tying the t-shirt up over the skirt so it showed a slit of skin, and remembered the day Eddie had given you the shirt.

He had handed it to you in the back of his van, his other hand scratching the back of his head as he avoided eye contact, and told you you were the only person outside of the actual band with one of their shirts now. You had grinned at him and promised to wear it tomorrow night: “This makes me a groupie now, doesn’t it?” Eddie had grinned back at you before taking your face in his hands, darting hard kisses over your face while you giggled.

But the most important part of the outfit was what you couldn’t see in the mirror–except for in the curve of your lips as you put on a dark lipstick, outlining your lips carefully as you thought about how good that color was going to look smeared over Eddie’s throat later. You fluffed your hair, slightly, thinking about your underwear–part of you was nervous, like Eddie might somehow look at you in this…getup and shake his head, laugh at you for playing pretend at being sexy.

You were fairly certain this was the first time you’d ever even worn a skirt around him–what was he going to think when he saw the black lace on the edges of your bra’s cups, the way your breasts almost spilled out of the top of the cups with the extra padding lifting them, the black satin and lace that covered you but left just enough of your ass hanging out, the leather garters you had slipped over your legs and tightened against the soft flesh of your thighs? Part of you wanted to change, take it all off and throw on jeans. Steeling your courage against your spine, you nod at yourself in the mirror.

When you pull open the door of the bar, you’re surprised to already hear the band playing. You had intended to come a little late, just to make sure Eddie wouldn’t have the time to touch you until after his show, when he was buzzing with the adrenaline of playing live, but you hadn’t planned on missing his warmup. Bottom lip between your teeth, you went to the bar and ordered, taking up your usual spot and turning to the stage. They all looked so alive when they played–Gareth never grinned like that except when he was behind his drum kit, and Jeff actually seemed to glow as he bobbed his head in time with the music. But Eddie.

Eddie stole the show every night. You were biased, absolutely, but his long curls–covered on top, tonight, with a black bandana–always seemed to gleam in the neon, his nose scrunching as he focused, his too-wide eyes intent on nothing but his bandmates and his hands. God, it made your heart race. When they finished their song, greeted by scattered applause, you cupped your hands to your mouth and timidly called out, “Whoo!” Eddie’s eyes immediately shot up, scanning the room until they found you. When his eyes settled on yours he lit up, grinning so wide his eyes narrowed. Suddenly, his eyebrows pulled up and his head recoiled slightly, turning his face at a slight angle as he took in your outfit. The grin slipped from his face, his jaw going slack as his eyes wandered down over your body from across the room.

You were almost sure you could see him swallow, hard, as he took in your short skirt and legs, realized you were wearing his shirt. When his eyes finally made their way back to yours, you winked and were rewarded with an obvious blush spreading over his cheeks. Gareth called something to him and he turned, looking back over his shoulder to shoot you another smile.

The rest of their set was torture. They played well, sure, but every time Eddie looked at you you could feel the electricity coursing through his veins as he stood on stage transfer to your body, and the frisson building under your skin was desperate for release. When they finally finish their set, Eddie immediately pulls his guitar off his body and hands it behind him, shoving it into Jeff’s shocked hands, before bounding off the stage and crossing the small space separating the two of you with long lopes. His fingers immediately snag around your waist, his rough palms and callused fingers pressing into the thin strip of visible skin as he ducks his head to your neck and presses a hard kiss to your throat. Your hands come up around his shoulders, fingers interlocking with a few strands of his hair at the nape of his neck.

You gasp, quietly, as his kiss turns into a quick, tiny nip at your neck and you pull back from him. “You were late,” Eddie said, grinning as he allowed you to lean away from him. “I was getting dressed,” you reply, a playful smile sliding over your face as you raise an eyebrow. “You like?” “Baby.” Eddie is wholly serious and yet, the half-whine to his pitch makes you feel wicked. You push your lips into a pout, watching his eyes track the movement as you feel his chest hitch slightly under your arms. “Is that a no?” You bat your eyelashes at him, truly playing into your part, and feel him relax in your arms. “Hell no, that’s not a no.” The corner of Eddie’s mouth is twisting, and you can’t help but lean into him again, pressing the first of many dark-tinted kisses to his jaw.

Eddie takes advantage of your closeness when you try to pull back, stepping forward so that his body is slotted between your legs. One of his hands drifts from your waist to your thigh, tracing circles over the top of your knee. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wearing so little and so much at the same time,” he growls into your neck. You tip your head back, laughing lightly. “You don’t even know what I’m wearing.” Eddie pulls his head back, tilting it as he narrows his eyes. “A skirt.” “And your shirt,” you encourage him.

He shakes his head, his long hair tossing under the soft glow of the bar lights, tightening his hand over your thigh. You can feel the cool metal of his rings along your skin, and it sends a slight chill down your spine as you look at him. Eddie’s eyes dip to his hand on your thigh, a wicked twist to his lips. He leans into your body, pushing his nose against your cheek as his fingers slide up, up the silk of your thigh–and then stop. His fingers have hit the edge of your garter, the smooth black leather under his fingers as he pulls back from you.

The cool air of the bar hits your skin, making you aware of the flush in your face as Eddie’s fingers twist, looping under the very edge of the leather to pull slightly. Eddie’s jaw drops as he realizes what he’s touching and you watch as the tip of his tongue runs over the bottom of his teeth, feeling desperate for the taste of him. “Rockstar’s girlfriend, huh?” He asks, recalling your earlier conversation. You nod, once, and bite the inside of your lip. When he grins, your core tightens, and you want him, right there on that fucking barstool.

Eddie’s staring at you, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as his hand continues up the inside of your thigh. “I wonder,” he murmurs, almost too low to be heard over the noise of the bartender slamming mugs behind the two of you, “what else you think rockstar’s girlfriends wear?” When his fingers come to rest at the lace and satin of your panties, he actually licks his lips like he’s thinking about your underwear in between his teeth before he gets to the good part. His pointer finger presses into the soft fabric, drawing small circles with light pressure and you wonder if he can feel the heat between your legs.

“Just–ah–something pretty for you,” you murmur, his eyes widening at your involuntary soft sound when he pressed the fabric against your slit. “Pretty girl,” he whispers, only audible because of how close he is, “Just for me.” You glance down, wondering how Eddie’s handling this himself, and are unsurprised to see the bulge of his hardening erection pressing against the denim of his pants. “Can we go?” You ask, suddenly unable to play pretend like your body isn’t craving him, begging for him inside of you. Eddie tosses his head back, laughing, then nods at you.

You go with him to grab his guitar, packed up begrudgingly by Gareth who agrees to pack the rest of the equipment with Jeff as long as Eddie unpacks them for the next show, then practically run through the parking lot, fingers entwined, as Eddie pulls you by your hand to his van. He opens the back, shoving his guitar case inside, then looks at you. His chest is heaving, slightly winded by the unplanned run, and you just want to stare at him, his bandana, his denim vest over his Corroded Coffin shirt, but he’s staring at you, an eyebrow raised and a soft smile on his lips, and he tells you to get in.

You had shoved a few pillows and blankets in the back a month or so ago, knowing that Eddie loved nothing more than driving you out someplace dark enough to see the stars, sharing a joint, and spending hours between your legs. You grabbed a pillow now, throwing it down behind the driver’s seat and throwing yourself on top of it on your back. Eddie climbed in, pulling the door closed behind him before he sat up on his knees. Crawling towards you, he pulled his vest and shirt off, tossing them both to the side.

You inhale deeply, looking at the way the streetlights coming through the windshield lit his pale skin, his tattoos, his guitar pick necklace and silver rings. Frankly, if you didn’t need him so badly, you could have stared at him for hours. You spread your legs immediately, wordlessly telling him to settle himself at the base of your hips. “Sit up for me, pretty girl.” His hands pull at your wrists, almost yanking you into an upright position that brings your body directly into contact with the smooth planes of his chest. Your hands grab at his chest, wrapping your fingers around his ribs so that your thumbs are just under his nipples, and he presses his mouth to your neck again. Eddie’s kisses are gentle, slow, now and you tilt your head to give him access to more skin. When he runs his tongue from your collarbone to your jawline, you can’t stop the whine that breaks out from between your teeth.

“Want me already?” Eddie purrs into your skin, and he laughs quietly as you nod. “Good girl,” he grins, and you feel your core absolutely pool. “I want you to do something for me first,” he says. “You’ve got to follow directions.” You pull back, looking at him. Eddie hadn’t given you “directions” since that first night on the phone, letting the instincts the two of you shared guide every encounter since. “You gonna follow my instructions, pretty girl?” You nod, a blush burning up over your throat and cheeks. “Good. Now take off your top.”

He’s looking at you with lust in his eyes, but he crawls backwards an inch, maybe two, to give you space as you shift your arms, pulling his flannel down and tossing it into the pile with his own clothes. Your hands come down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it quickly up and over head. You can hear him gasp, softly, as the parking lot lights illuminate your breasts bulging over your bra cups, the black lace tickling your skin. Eddie clears his throat, blinking rapidly. “Skirt too.” You start to shift the fabric down your waist, over your hips, then pause and stare at him. When he looks back at you in confusion, you cock an eyebrow and look pointedly at his own jeans. He laughs, twisting dramatically, and unbuckles his belt, unzipping his pants and shifting them down to his knees, then over his calves, before throwing them aside with your skirt.

“Now lay down and let me look at you, pretty girl.” Your stomach heats at his words, your breath coming a little faster without him even touching you. Eddie’s eyes wander over your body, slowly, and you let him look and touch his fill without rushing him, without urging him to satisfy the craving for him that's been building deep inside of you since you slipped this lingerie on. His fingers reach out to trace the lace over your breasts, the sensitive skin of your thigh where the garter sits, and he brings goosebumps up over your body with his gentle touch.

When his hand slides up to the satin of your panties, a rough finger brushing the elastic around the inside of your thigh, he bites his lip, eyes on his hand so close to where you need him. “Do you–did you ever wear this before? For other guys, I mean?” He asks. He still isn’t looking at your face while he waits for your answer, eyes intent on his fingers slow, smooth strokes against the satin and lace separating your bodies. “No,” you half-whispered, throat thick with desire. “Just for myself.”

At that, Eddie’s dark eyes snap up to yours, the hitch in his breathing echoing through the inches separating you like a gunshot. “Yourself?” He asked. The corner of his mouth starts to turn up, achingly slowly, as his eyes lit from behind with mischief. “You’re telling me that you, what? Wear this around all day…just to know you’re wearing it?” You want so badly to reach your fingers across to him, to brush the pads of your palms over his skin, but you know that touching him now will only make him tease you worse. “Mm-hmm,” you barely choke out, nodding your head. “My girl likes to see herself dressed up, huh?” Eddie cocks his head to the side, his jaw tucking down just slightly as the slow curve of his smile turns into a full-blown grin. You almost have to close your eyes as you look at him; he is so radiant like this, gleaming with good ideas and bad intentions.

This time you can’t even get a sound out of your throat, so you just lower your chin, peering up at him from behind thick eyelashes as you blink at him as he waits on his knees between yours. The faux-innocence, the doe-eyed look that has won you so many battles in the past, doesn’t work on him this time. Suddenly, his fingers pull back from your inner thigh, letting the elastic snap against your sensitive skin. “Answer the question, sweetheart,” he purrs from where he stands between your legs. “Yes,” you choke out, your core throbbing now, “Just for me.” Suddenly, Eddie leans over and dips his head to the top of your thighs, pressing rough kisses full of teeth to the edge of your panties as he grips your waist. “That’s,” he kisses, “my,” another kiss, “fucking,” kiss, “girl.”

He pushes your underwear to the side, leaving the satin wrapped around your hips as he settles himself between your legs and presses his mouth to your soaking wet slit. You gasp, your back arching slightly against the hard body of the van under you. You can’t help yourself from rolling your hips, just slightly, against his mouth. His tongue strokes your throbbing clit, teasing it like he’s been teasing you, and he presses his hands down over your hips to still you. He pulls back, the lack of his mouth making you whimper, and laughs. “Slow down for me,” Eddie says. “No,” you growl, fingers coming up to his head and sliding his bandana off so they can tangle in his curls.

He laughs again, pushing his mouth back against you, and you let your head roll back as his lips wrap around the bundle of nerves and suck. Your fingers tighten, and he moans against you. You can feel your muscles tightening already, your thighs tensing around his head, and he pulls back. “You wanna cum now or with me in you?” He asks, panting with his own desire. “Don’t be fucking stupid, Munson,” you groan, and he pulls back, sitting up as he laughs. “That’s my girl,” he says, and your eyes widen as your stomach clenches.

Eddie takes himself in his fist, stroking slowly as he looks at you on your back, hair fanning out over your pillow, bathed in the glow of the streetlights and shimmering stars. You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re like this, wanting–needing–him, skin already slick with sweat and a flush over your chest and cheeks. You whine at him, hoarse with desire, and he positions himself in between your legs, pushing the covering of your underwear aside again and sliding in gently. He positions his arms over your shoulders, allowing himself to lower his stomach to touch yours. You’re already slick, your muscles still tight from how close he brought you a minute ago. “Oh, fuck,” Eddie whispers over you, and you peer up at him as he shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Tell me you’re gonna cum soon, baby,” he whispers, and you bring a hand up to the side of his face. You trace your fingernails over his jaw, making him shudder, and then pinch suddenly. His eyes snap open, looking at you in shock. “Find out, Eddie,” you say, and his jaw drops before turning into a devilish grin. “You asked for it,” he says, and he thrusts, hard, deep into you. You gasp, the hand on the side of his neck tightening. He moans as your nails dig into his skin, pulling back before thrusting again, harder. “So good for me,” he whispers, and you let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper, feeling your walls stretch against him.

Again, again, again, he pushes your body wide open for him as your hips lift and push up against his. The van is filled with only the sounds of bodies meeting each other, gasps and whimpers, before your muscles tighten again. “Eddie–Edd–” You can’t form a sentence, but he can feel what your body is trying to tell him. He keeps his pace, looking down at you between his arms. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers, throat tight. “Cum for me, pretty girl.” When your body tightens, pulling him deeper into you, he moans, his eyebrows tightening as his lips part. His hips stutter, trying to maintain his rhythm as he fills you with his own satisfaction, twitching inside of you as his hips crash against yours and your body tightens around him.

When you’re both done, he lays himself gently over your sweat-slicked skin, careful to keep himself buried inside of you as he adjusts his weight so his head can rest over your still-lace-covered breasts. He presses a gentle kiss to your skin, and peers up at you. His eyelashes brush his brow bone, wide eyes the color of amber and espresso watching your face as your muscles relax, the ecstasy of your orgasm settling deep into your bones. You feel his fingers brush over your stomach, tracing circles in silence. “My good girl,” he whispers into the silence, and you wonder if he can hear your heart flutter in your chest at his words.

His hair tickles under your chin, and you reach a palm up to smooth it down, pressing lightly against his head. When he moves again, it’s just to pick up your hand, pulling one of the heavy, metal rings off his hand and sliding it on to your thumb. He turns his head to look at you, noting the confusion clear on your face. “For your rockstar’s girlfriend look,” he explains, lips barely containing his smile as you grin.

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steves-babysitter-fic-recs · 2 years

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look, you people who create intense navigation pages are amazing. i did all the stuff with myspace html but i think i'm too old to do it now. anyway, i wanted to put my favorite fics on this page to go back and read. i'll try and use tags to help it more cohesive; but this is the best ya girl can do.

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lazylittledragon · 1 month

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if i had a nickel for every au spawned from twitter that i SWORE i was going to be normal about

#i'd have like. five. which isn't a lot but IT KEEPS HAPPENING #stranger things #platonic stobin #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #here we go again boys #i've had this floating in my head for a Minute and i was like #nah i'm not gonna do it #maybe i'll anonymously write a fic #but no we're mombin posting on main #i think on twt we agreed it's a 'what's the worst that could happen' situation #platonic co parents can be so so so personal #also i have One more stobin wip and then bg3 again i swear #when i have a baby i Will be putting my giant black wings on beforehand #they have to know what kind of family they're coming into #cw pregnancy

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raz-writes-the-thing · 5 months

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Sweet Like Chocolate (Venom Drabble)

Eddie/Venom x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: Venom's enjoys it when you're his host.

CW: fluff, making fun of Eddie

Venom Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

WE ARE NOT A BABY.

You tut and continue about making Venom’s tater tots. It hadn’t really been a genuine thought. It’s just that when you and Eddie trade Venom between you like parents trading a toddler for alone time, it kind of felt that way at times. Not that you were complaining, of course. Any time with Venom piggybacking in your head was time well spent in your own personal opinion.

It was just a shame that you weren’t a better match. Then he could come around with you more often. But no, that was Eddie’s responsibility, it would seem.

“I know, V- you know how human brains work. Thoughts just pop in unannounced.”

I WILL ALLOW IT.

You chuckle and pour yourself a glass of wine. A tendril of Venom’s form spreads from your back to put the wine bottle away for you, and you thank him kindly. Checking the timer on the tots, you frown. They were going to be at least another fifteen minutes.

“What do you want to do tonight, V?” You ask, plopping down on the lounge chair and taking a sip.

WE WANT TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU.

You smile softly, and Venom chuckles in your brain in response. That took some getting used to, actually, hearing someone laugh in your mind. But like all things, you acclimated.

“We’re doing that, buddy,” you reply.

YOU ARE FAR NICER THAN EDDIE. EDDIE IS MEAN.

You take another swig of your wine and flick the TV on quietly, flipping through to get to Venom’s favourite channel.

“How do you mean? Eddie’s a sweetie deep down,” you respond, finally finding the channel and putting the subtitles on for yourself. Eddie was always a sweetie. It was just that he was a bit gruff. Venom grunts.

EDDIE’S AN ASSHOLE.

You hear the bathroom door creak open and turn around, seeing Venom’s tendril rooting around in there for something. You don’t question it further than that, knowing that whatever he’s looking for will be found.

You’re proven correct when the tendril returns with your hairbrush. You dutifully fluff your hair out from the neck of your cardigan for Venom, who hums appreciatively and begins to brush at your hair.

It’s something he likes to do for you. You’re not sure whether it’s because he enjoys the sensation himself, or whether it’s something he does for you. It could be both, all things considered. Your eyes flutter shut, and you lose yourself in the motions for a few minutes.

“He can be an ass,” you finally acquiesce. “But he means well.”

Venom’s head materialises from over your shoulder and faces you. His tendril pauses its ministrations in your hair for a moment, and he appears thoughtful.

“I suppose,” Venom replies. “We prefer you. Prettier host.”

You flush pink and brush a hand over Venom’s cheek. Or what would be his cheek, you supposed?

“You’re a sweet thing, V.”

Venom nods, ripples of his skin flowing over his form.

“Like chocolate, yes?”

You laugh and make to get up when the timer for the tater tots goes off.

“Like chocolate.”

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lokis-army-77 · 7 months

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Private Viewing

Camboy!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 6.8k

What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it?

Warning: 18 +. This is pure fucking filth. Spit, masturbation (m and f), use of vibrators and fleshlight, choking, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (f reviving), fingering, voyeurism? Soft!dom Eddie, tell me if I'm missing anything.

Thank you @lesservillain for giving me this wonderful idea. 💗 and @munson-blurbs for figuring out if I should do this for Steve or Eddie and for helping give me a title💗.

Masterlist

Nothing but slick sounds filled your room, the occasional deep moan calling out from your laptop speakers accompanying your own sweet cries. The guy on the screen, Ed as he called himself, or DungeonMaster as he was known on Only Fans and Twitter, was fisting his cock in his heavily ringed hand. He was putting on a show for more than ten thousand viewers but the way he stared down the camera with those dark eyes made you think he was watching you, fucking his hand to the way you were pumping your fingers in and out of your soaking wet pussy.

You had stumbled upon his Twitter three months ago and he immediately captured your eye. The way his tattoos wrapped around his pale skin, how he wasn’t all lean muscle like the other OF guys, his tummy by no means a six-pack but he still looked strong enough to sweep you off your feet with ease. His moans were heavenly and so was the deep timber of his force as he praised you through the thirty-second video clip. It was all enough to convert you from your usual consumption of smutty books to the infamous Only Fans sight.

Since then, his streams and videos have become the one and only thing you get off to. And like then, tonight was no exception.

You were so close to the edge, Ed’s moans spurring you on. Your fingers move at an almost inhuman pace in and out, in and out.

“Rub that clit for me, baby. Need you to cum.” He groaned, head resting on his shoulder as he continued you pleasure himself.

“Fuck!” You gasp as you rub your clit with your free hand. Your rhythm is horribly off but it doesn’t matter, you are so close to cumming. So so so close. “Please,” you beg out into your empty room. You aren’t too sure why or what you are pleading for. More friction? More fingers? More words of encouragement from him? Maybe you’re asking to cum?

It’s like he had heard you through the screen as he moaned out, “That’s a good girl. Just like that. Doing so well for me. You gonna cum baby? Yeah? Me too. Want me to count for you?” He nods his head lazily. “I knew you would baby. Okay. Five.”

You want to cry.

“Four.”

The strings tugging inside you are becoming taut.

“Three.”

You feel like you’re going to explode. He’s counting too slowly.

“Two.”

The tears are flowing now.

“One.”

You let out a strangled scream.

“Cum baby. Do it, now.”

Your walls clench around your fingers and your legs snap shut, trapping your fingers. Every muscle in your body is shuddering as those strings snap and your release comes out in a stream, wetting your hand and the bed. Your hearing has gone, there’s a ringing in your ears but you can faintly hear Ed cumming as well.

With watery vision and slow movements, you turn to face your laptop screen just in time to see his tattoo-covered chest painted with milky white ropes of cum.

When the ringing subsides you hear him say more clearly, “Thata girl. Always make me cum so much.” He takes a towel and wipes off his chest and stomach before adjusting the camera view to the shoulders up. “Get you some rest baby, I’ll see you on Thursday.”

And then the live is over.

Slowly, sluggishly, you remove your hands from between your legs and begin the now regular clean-up routine before going to bed.

…

Three days later, Thursday rolls around, and thus begins the fall semester of your junior year of college. It’s a groggy morning, everyone is tired and very unenthusiastic about having an 8 a.m. advanced music composition class.

You had struggled to get out of bed at six this morning just to get one of the dorm showers first before they were all taken up. Luckily two of the five were open and you were able to get to class a whole twenty minutes early, even having time to grab coffee at the on-campus Starbucks on the way.

The music building was old and the tables you and your fellow students sat at were even older. It all added to the sleepy ambiance. Your eyes drooped and you yawned every time someone else did, the black coffee you had chugged not doing anything for you.

You’re only awoken when your professor, a stout old man with a very severe receding hairline, slams open the door to the classroom a little too hard and it hits the brick wall, creating a loud, startling bang.

He apologizes before making his introduction. He then gets out a clipboard with a sheet attached and hands it off to a girl in the front row, instructing everyone to fill in their name and school email for his role sheet.

It’s only once you’ve finished and passed the clipboard on, that you notice the guy two seats down from you looks vaguely familiar. You can’t quite put a finger on it and it bugs you.

His hair is pulled back into a messy bun and his clothes make him look like the alternative guy of your dreams back in high school. He’s got rings on almost every finger and an aura that just screams confidence.

It begins to become a problem, your inability to place this guy's face. You’ve only taken a handful of notes the entire first hour and thirty minutes into this two-hour class. Your eyes are constantly staring at him no matter how hard you try to make yourself pay attention.

Then, he raises his hand to answer one of your professor's questions. That’s when it clicks. Your pen falls from your grasp and your mouth forms an O.

“Oh my fucking god. No. It can’t be.” You think to yourself but just to be sure you take out your phone, turn the brightness and volume down, and hide it under the table. You open Twitter as fast as you can and you don’t even have to look for his user, he’s the first post on the screen.

Ed @ DungeonMaster86 was boldly displayed above a picture of the guy sitting next to you with his massive dick in his hand.

It’s a wonder you weren’t caught with how you practically choked on thin air and began furiously looking from your phone to the guy and then back to your phone.

Your stomach drops. You can’t keep watching his videos, can you? That wouldn’t be right. That would be weird, watching the porn your classmate makes.

When class is finally called to an end you pack up as quickly as you can and bolt out the door to your next class, hoping that by getting away from Ed, you'd be able to concentrate. Out of sight, out of mind.

That statement turns out to be false when he is in your next class and when you spot him in the student commons talking with another guy. It's like once you made the connection of who he was, he was everywhere.

…

Arriving back at your dorm, you throw your backpack on your desk, snatch your laptop out of it, and struggle to jump up onto your bed. Never had you been so thankful for the single dorm than this moment as your curser hovered over the bookmarked Only Fans page at the top of your screen. No roommate meant no one would see the moral dilemma you were currently losing with yourself.

‘You know him, it’s wrong to keep watching his videos.”

‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him though. The only way he would know you are watching is if you tell him, you aren’t going to tell him, are you?’

‘No…’

‘Then it’s okay, it’ll just add an extra element of taboo to his streams. Plus, he’d miss you in the chat.’

You sigh as the devil on your shoulder wins out once again, talking you into something you know you shouldn’t be. But hey, it feels good to be bad.

Steadily, you click on his bookmarked profile and the first thing to pop up is the live stream that is currently in session. And against your better judgment, you enter the stream.

He’s only just started, people are slowly filtering in. Ed is sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt off, and a singular, ringed hand teasing himself through his black jeans.

You breathe a sigh as he looks into the camera, eyes half-lidded, luring you in. It does the job, because in an instant your fingers are typing out a message in chat.

Princess23: hi Ed

His eyes flicker as he reads his messages, smiling as he replies to you. "Hi, Princess. How's my girl been?"

There's a bubble of excitement at the fact that he recognizes your username, even if you've been a regular in the chat for months.

Princess23: stressful… you've been distracting me.

The reply to his question is truer than he realizes.

"Aww, princess, is that so? You've been thinking of me?" He leans back on his free elbow, still groping himself with the other hand.

Princess23: yes. been thinking about your cock, how much I want it in my mouth.

It's one of the less bold comments you make but it makes you blush all the same, especially now.

"Yeah? You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth? Of yours?"

Princess23: yes please

"Mmm." He hums, fingers now fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans.

You set your laptop to the side and start to situate yourself. Slowly taking your clothes off one by one.

Ed replies to a few more comments before announcing that it's time to start.

He leaves the screen for just a moment before coming back with something in his hand. Smirking at the camera he shows it. A flashlight in the shape of a mouth.

"This one’s for you, Princess. Since you need my dick so bad," Ed explains. He sets it on his bed before making a show of taking his jeans and boxers off.

As you watch, your hands roam your body. Fingers pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipples before trailing down. The light touch over your ribs makes you giggle. Then you rub and scratch at the inside of your thighs.

Ed's moans are now coming through your speakers, you tilt your head to watch.

"Spit on my cock baby, get it nice and wet for me." He commands before spitting in his own hand and rubbing it on his thick length.

"Your mouth looks so pretty like this, waiting, drooling for me. Need me to fill it so bad don't you, baby?"

"Yes." You answer him breathlessly, fingers teasing around your mound.

You watch and he sits back down on his bed, thighs spread, a hand cupping his balls and the other grabbing the fleshlight. He lets out a long, drawn-out moan when he inserts his cock into the fake mouth.

"Fuck baby, your mouth feels so perfect."

You can't help but whine. Allowing your fingers to finally circle your clit.

The both of you go one like this for a bit. Him fucking the fleshlight and you massaging your clit. But then you need more, more than your hand can give you. So you reach to your bedside table, stretching at an uncomfortable angle to open the drawer and pull out the purple mini wand you kept there.

The vibrations start slow and constant as you press the toy to your clit. It pulls soft, quiet noises from you as you watch your computer screen. Your mind is blank, filled only with the pretty sounds Ed is making, the way his body looks, and the pleasure between your legs.

There are no thoughts. You follow his lead. When his hand speeds up, you kick up the vibrations, when he slows down, you turn the vibrator back to the first level.

It's a rollercoaster, almost, taking your pleasure for a ride. The stream isn't even done yet when you feel that tight pull in your abdomen. The toy works you up fast.

So you stop. Taking the toy away and changing positions. On your hands and knees, you hug a pillow to your chest and prop the toy up under you, keeping it standing as you push your clit down onto it. It's not even on and it's making your hips buck in sensitivity.

You turn it back on and immediately feel the slick seeping from your cunt and running down the toy.

"Oh fuck," you cry. Your eyes locked on the screen where Ed has also changed positions.

He's got his own toy lying on the bed and he's laying over it. The way his leg and glute muscles contract as he thrusts into the toy has you memorized.

He chants, "Baby, baby, baby." Over and over. What you would give to have him chanting your name instead. Like a prearranged falling from his lips, praising you, worshiping you.

The need for him grows and so does the tightness in your core.

Reaching your hand down you turn the speed up. Your hips buck into the toy and you bury your face in the pillow. You're close.

He’s not far behind. Peering up from your pillow you can see his thrusts are sputtering. Sporadic as he draws close to his end.

“God dammit, baby. Gonna cum in this perfect mouth of yours. Fuck. Can you swallow it like the good pet you are? Hum? The good pet I know you can be?”

“Yes.” You turn up the vibrator. “Fuck, wanna swallow all of you. Please.”

The vibrations are becoming too much but you keep the toy pressed into you, hips shaking at the feeling of being overstimulated.

Without warning, you cum with a guttural cry into your pillow. Body spasming, muscles twitching. You can still hear Ed moaning and the sloppy sounds of his cock fucking the fleshlight.

With barely any energy you reach down between your heavy body and the bed and turn your toy off. You don’t even bother with your computer, too exhausted and fucked out to exit the stream. You fall asleep to the sounds of your new classmate's self-pleasure.

…

It’s October now. The semester is halfway over and you’ve still been watching Ed, or Eddie. You learned his actual name in class when your professor called role on him by name the second week.

Today you are being assigned a partner for the final project. You have your fingers crossed that Eddie won’t be chosen as your partner but as your professor calls out pairs, it seems luck is against you.

You freeze when your name is called and directly after so is Eddie’s. You groan internally. How the hell are you supposed to do this? You already have trouble concentrating when he sits two seats away, what’s going to happen when he actually interacts with you?

There isn’t much time to think about that as he abruptly moves from his seat to the one directly next to you.

“Hi.” He says, eyes bright and expectant. “I’m Eddie.” He holds out his hand for you to shake but you just stare at him. He looks at you curiously before waving his hand in front of your face. “Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

You snap out of your stupor and accept his hand, shaking it as you introduce yourself. “Sorry. I was a bit out of it.” You say, trying to play it off as you just staring off into space.

“No problem.” He smiles. “Uh, do you want to exchange numbers so we can figure out when we can work on this together?”

“Oh, yeah. Here,” You open your phone and push it to him with the messages app open. “You can text yourself.”

He does just that, even going as far as putting in his contact name as Eddie with the skull and crossbones emoji beside it.

“Great. I’ll text you when I’m free. I have work on Mondays and Thursdays, sometimes on Saturdays, but other than that I’m usually free.”

You nearly choke when you realize he’s given you his streaming schedule. “I- uh. Okay. Just text me when you can.”

"Sure thing sweetheart." He grins at you before standing, grabbing his things, and heading out of class along with the rest of the students.

You sit there for a minute, thinking. God, what are you getting yourself into?

…

You both have finally come up with meeting times that work for both of you. Tuesday and Wednesday after seven. Giving you time to get to the school library after the closing shift at your on-campus job.

It’s been two weeks of working together on this project and it’s been easier than you had originally thought to concentrate on the task at hand and keep your dirty thoughts at bay.

Right now, you are both sitting in one of the private study rooms looking at Eddie’s computer as he explains why this particular cord progression would fit with the emotions you are trying to convey in your composition.

You sigh, “Eddie, as much as I love that sound, I really don’t think it fits with the overall composition of the song. It isn’t as emotionally charged as I’d like it to be.”

“Well show me something similar to what you’re wanting.” He rakes his hand through his hair. It’s been a long night for each of you. It seems that every new section of the song you are creating for the project gives you a new challenge to work through together.

You pull out your phone and Eddie leans over to watch as you begin to type. There is a particular song you are thinking of that has the weight and emotion you are trying to convey with your own music and as you type the first letter of the song, O, the first suggestion that pops up is onlyfans/DungeonMaster.

Mortified, you slam your phone down on the table. Eddie looks at you with an eyebrow raised.

“What was that?” He asks.

“What was what?” You answer.

“Why did you slam your phone down?”

“Oh, I just forgot the title of the song.”

“Right…” He scratches under his chin and then stretches back in his chair. “Why don’t we call it quits for tonight? It’s getting late and we aren’t going to agree on anything if we’re both tired.”

A yawn suddenly comes up out of nowhere and you then realize how tired you actually are. “That sounds good to me.” You agree with Eddie and begin packing up your things. You don’t want to be with him longer than you need to be right now, even if he seemingly didn’t notice his OF user pop up on your phone screen.

“Bye Eddie.” You wave to him on your way out the door.

Faintly you hear him call out to you, giving a goodbye of his own. "See ya, sweetheart."

…

After your little slip, you began avoiding Eddie. At least in person, you still tuned into his streams. You bailed on the next three meetups you had planned, helping only through voice notes and text. Eddie said he understood when you said your boss was forcing you to stay late to deep clean.

It was Thursday now and when you saw him in class he barely looked your way and you wondered if he had seen what you hoped he had not.

You tried stopping him once your lecture was over, feeling an anxiousness creeping into your mind. Your conscience had been telling you to come clean. To explain your perversion. Let him know you watched him, that you paid to enjoy seeing him fuck into a toy or his hand.

You called out his name and reached for his arm. "Eddie."

He turns to you. "Hum?"

You take a deep breath to ground yourself. "I wanted to say sorry for not being able to come help with the project."

"It's okay, you said you had work." He replies, unbothered.

"No, Eddie, I didn't get held back at work. That was a lie."

He doesn't look all too surprised.

"I've kinda been avoiding you because- well, because of what I think you might have seen on my phone that day."

Eddie stops you there. "Can this wait until later? I've really got some errands to run before work."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry to keep you Ed." You had meant it as a nickname but as it came pushing past your lips it was too late to take it back. You had never heard anyone call him that outside of his onlyfans.

You watched as his eyes widened at the name and a spark went off behind them. "I'll see you later sweetheart." The smirk he gives you isn't the usual playful one you'd seen him throw before. No, this was sinister, like he knew.

Your heart fell into your stomach as you watched him walk away, leaving you alone.

Tonight as you logged into the stream, it wasn’t to get off. It was to see if he'd show any signs of knowing you might be lurking about among the thousands of viewers.

When the video loads, Eddie is sitting in his desk chair. He's talking to the chat like he always does. There's something different in the atmosphere around him, mischief if you've placed it correctly.

He keeps replying to comments until the clock reaches 6:10. It's time for the show to begin.

"Tonight I have a very special treat for you guys." Eddie starts as he reaches over just off camera to his desk. "I've got the wand out."

The chat erupts. Eddie doesn't bring his vibrator out often, but when he does, you know it's going to be a good show for every party involved.

"I would also like to say hello to a special quest in the stream tonight." Eddie’s smirk gets bigger and your heart pounds in your chest. "Hi, sweetheart. Hope you enjoy yourself."

You feel like you've been shot. There's a ringing in your ears and your breathing has stopped.

He knows. Fuck. He definitely knows. You've never heard him say that pet name on camera. It's always babe or baby when he refers to the collective whole watching the stream. Eddie has only ever used that name with you.

Eddie starts up the vibrator, tracing it over his covered cock. He hums at the feeling, loud and long.

You clench your thighs together. You tell yourself you should stop watching but you can't bring yourself to.

'He knows." You argue with yourself.

'But he wants you to watch. Why else would he say his pet name for you? Why else would he say he hopes you enjoy yourself? He knows and he likes it.'

The devil on your shoulder makes sense again and you curse it.

So, you watch. Intently, you watch. Your eyes never leave the screen.

Eddie whimpers once he has his cock out of his pants. The tip is a deep purple/red color, showing how worked up he's gotten already.

He lets his head fall back, resting on his chair as he moves the vibrator down to his balls. He presses it into himself before dragging it up his shaft and to the head.

You feel a wetness seeping into the cotton of your panties and as his legs widen, yours press together more.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck, sweetheart." Eddie moans, mouth open slack and eyes squeezed shut.

You can't believe he's saying your pet name and making those noises. You wonder what he's thinking about. How you'd look sucking on his cock? Maybe what it would be like to be pounding into you, watching your cunt suck him in and clench around him.

Eddie grits his teeth when he turns the speed up. One hand is holding the vibrator just at the frenulum while the other is cupping and squeezing his balls.

Your thoughts are running wild and your hips have started to rock in search of some kind of friction.

He moves his hand from his balls and begins to tug on his shaft. Deep guttural moans fill the air, and the sound of them turns you on even more.

It's not long before Eddie is bucking his cock into his hand. You can see his muscles straining in his legs as he does.

"Fuck fuck fuck- ah fuck sweetheart, you've got me so close. Fuck." His voice is pinched. You can see the exhaustion in the furrow of his eyebrows as he pressed the vibrator over his tip, the change in placement making his hips shudder. “God, I’m gonna cum. The thought of you is gonna make me cum, sweetheart.”

Hearing his breathy, deep, timber of a voice say that the thought of you was going to do him in had you thinking you might just cum too. No touching required, just Eddie and his beautiful noises.

In a matter of seconds, Eddie is choking on his words as his balls go taut. He lets out a drawn-out grunt and ropes of cum begin to spurt out over his chest, covering him like a painting. He doesn’t even bother to clean himself up before he looks into the camera and says good night, chuckling when he mentions your particular pet name again. Then, the screen goes dark.

…

Fridays are slow in the used bookshop you work at. Especially after 4:30. No one had been inside in maybe an hour? Your boss left early, leaving you alone to close down at 6. For the past fifteen minutes, you’ve been putting misplaced books back where they belong, sweeping, and tidying up anything else you see.

Because of the usual slowness, you have your headphones on. The music isn’t loud but it does drown out the sound of the bell chiming as someone enters the building. You are unaware of the person creeping up behind you until you are suddenly turned around and corralled against the bookshelf.

You let out an alarmed screech only for your mouth to be covered by a big, warm hand. Your headphones fall to the floor beside you as they are accidentally knocked off your head. You hear his voice then, whispering in your ear.

“Hi, Sweetheart.”

“Eddie-” You heave, relieved it wasn’t someone coming to kill you in cold blood.

“Did you enjoy my show last night?” He leans back, caressing a strand of hair away from your face.

You shake your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You deny. Even after you had told yourself you would come clean to him, granted that was before you knew he knew your secret.

“You don’t know, do you? I think you do why else would my account have popped up on your search suggestions the other day?”

Keeping your mouth shut, you refuse to answer.

Eddie takes your chin between his fingers and moves your face to the side as he leans into you. His lips tickle the shell of your ear as he speaks again. “So… Which one of my subs are you? Hum?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out.

Eddie tuts. “Don’t get all shy on me. Tell me. Now.” His tone is dominating. It’s one thing to hear it over a computer speaker, it's another when you hear it in person. His presence alone had your knees knocking.

“I-I,” You can't help but stutter. “It’s Princess23.” You shamefully tell him your user, eyes looking anywhere but his.

He sucks in a breath. “Oh, Princess. That was you?”

He forces you to look at him and you nod your head.

You hate that he’s making you look him in the eye, but you can see what’s swirling around deep within them. Desire, lust, dominance, but nothing mean. Nothing hurtful.

As you watch him, you catch the minute changes in his expression. His jaw clenches and his eyes darken, a hunger taking over as he stares you down.

“I can give you a private show if you want, baby.” He leans back in. “Right here,” He nipps at your ear lobe. “Right now.”

“Eddie, we can’t… We’re at my work.”

He looks around you, head swiveling to peer down both ends of the aisle. “It’s fine Sweetheart, no one’s here but us, right?”

“Yes, but-”

He cuts you off with a finger over your lips.

“Then let me show you why the real thing is so much better than what you’ve seen online.” He doesn’t give you time to think before his lips are on yours.

They are soft, almost pillow-like as they mold against yours. His tongue slithers its way into your mouth, tasting you, he moans when he does.

To you, he tastes like menthol cigarettes and black coffee with the faintest hint of weed. It’s intoxicating, and addicting. You’ve only had one taste and now you won't be able to function without him.

His hand cups your cheek and pulls you closer. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair. His body keeps you pinned to the shelves and he spreads your legs by inserting one of his own between them.

With him being so much taller than you, it only takes you barely bending your knees for you to make contact with his thigh. You are thankful when he doesn’t stop you from humping his leg. The friction of you rubbing yourself against him has the seam of your pants pressing against your clit. It’s a wonderful pressure that leaves your mind blank.

When he pulls away, you follow, not wanting his mouth to leave yours. Eddie chuckles when you give a needy whine.

"It's okay baby, I'll give you what you want." He coos. "But first, since you wanna get yourself off, you've got to make yourself cum on my leg."

You pout. "But Eddie…"

"Ah ah, don't complain sweet girl, you'll only make it take longer. Now get to work."

You do as he says, rolling your hips with purpose against him. He doesn't help you at all, he only provides support and kissed along your jaw every few seconds as he watches you work.

It's harder than you thought it would be. The layers of denim dulled the sensations yet added to the tension your clit felt as the fabric rubbed against it.

"Mmm, fuck." You gasp, fingers gripping onto Eddie’s shoulders. "M'so close. Eddie, I'm so close."

He smiles at you and he gives your body gentle touches. "That's it, Princess. Let go. Being such a good girl for me."

You moan loudly at his praise.

"That right sweet girl, use me to get yourself off. That's it, keep going."

His words are spurring you on, your hips, although losing their rhythm and steadiness, keep going strong. Then, you feel it. That tautness in your tummy and the ache in your bones. You are so close.

"Please, Eddie. Ah- so close. Need more." Your words are short and your hips move faster.

"What is it, baby? What do you need?" Eddie asks, willing to give you just a little.

"Kiss me again," you beg.

He obliges. Taking your face in his hands and practically devouring you.

The canter of your hips stalls as your body shudders against him. A sticky wetness can now be felt, uncomfortably, between your legs.

"So good for me." He praises.

You can feel how hard he is, his needy cock prominently pressing into your thigh.

"Wanna feel you. Eddie please, I need to feel you." You're practically begging him to fuck you now.

"Yeah, sweet girl? You need me to stretch that pretty pussy on my dick? Make you feel so good, baby." He trailed his kiss down to your neck, stopping only to suck and nip at the sensitive skin.

You nod frantically. "Yes, yes Eddie. Need you inside me."

Hands rush to unbutton pants, fingers caress bare skin, breaths hitch. You tug at Eddie's pants impatiently as he pulls your own down. The sudden feeling of cold air hitting the pool of slick between your thighs.

You are both a whirlwind of arms and clothes and a few books falling from their shelf. Eddie’s fingers make their way to your center, exploring between your folds.

You throw your head back, cracking it on the shelf above. "Ow," You moan out in pain.

"Careful there, Sweetheart." He gives you another kiss and moves his unoccupied hand to cradle your head.

The pain is instantly forgotten when two of his thick fingers circle your clit before pushing into your entrance.

"Mmmm- god." He feels so good inside you, fingers curling into your walls. The wet slick of him moving fills the stagnant air of the bookstore.

"You're sucking me in, baby. Pussy squeezing me so tight." Eddie rests his forehead on yours, his breath mixing with your own. "Can't wait to feel you around my cock."

Gasping in response, you buck your hips up into his hand. "More-"

It doesn't take much convincing for Eddie to pull his hand from between your legs and position his hard length at your entrance. Slowly he slips inside, meeting no resistance with how wet you are.

Eddie pushes into you, cock stretching you out farther than you think you've ever been before. His one hand rests on the back of your head while the other pushes your shaking hand out of his way as he goes to press it against your neck.

You grasp his arm, nails scratching his skin as he chokes you.

"Oh- oh, Eddie. Fuck me." You cry, cunt fluttering around him.

Your words are music to his ears. His pace begins steadily. In and out at a lazy, leisurely speed. Then he picks it up, hips bucking faster and faster.

He's giving it all to you. Everything you've dreamed of since you saw him on your Twitter all those months ago.

The head of his cock is repeatedly hitting that one spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. You can’t keep yourself up. The feelings coursing through you have your knees buckling and Eddie does a good job at catching your weight.

He stops his movements to try and situate you. “Come on, baby, gotta stand up.”

You shake your head. “I can’t, s’too much.” Your heart is pounding in your chest, if you even tried to stand you would just fall again. “There's a couch.” You point to the back of the store. “It’s in the break room.”

Eddie grunts as he hoists you up in his arms and follows your directions.

The couch is old and made of leather. It is cold on your skin as Eddie lays you down and you shiver as he rips your pants and underwear from around your ankles. Never would you have ever imagined being naked from the waist down in your work break room.

In contrast to the cool leather, Eddie’s hands are searing hot. He grips the back of your knees, picking your legs up and spreading you out. You’re almost folded in half.

“Jesus fucking christ. You. Are. Beautiful.” He enunciated every word. The complement has you keening and clenching around nothing. “Fuck, look at that pretty cunt. She’s gaping for me.” Eddie smiles, eyes flickering to yours before looking back to your most intimate part.

You let out a wonton gasp when he spits, a glob of it falling right atop your parted slit. Eddie takes a hand away and grabs his cock. He rubs the tip through your folds, giving your clit a heavy tap tap tap before entering you again and grabbing the back of your knee again.

Eddie wastes no time in pistoning his hips into yours. The new angle gives him free range of movement to fuck you fast and deep. The skin of his thighs makes a sharp slapping sound when he connects with your ass, it sets the rhythm for the song of your shared moans.

“Pull your shirt up.” He commands and you do as he says. Lifting your shirt up and over your breasts. Eddie lets out an irritated grunt at the sight of your bra. “That too.” He puffs out and you pull it up as far as it will allow.

Your breasts bounce as Eddie fucks you mercilessly into the couch. His eyes are shamelessly trained on them. “Fucking hell, Princess. Gimmie our hands.”

You reach out for him and he grabs your wrists, guiding you to hold your legs back like he had been doing. With the newfound freedom of his hands, he extends them out to play with your tits. He pinches and tugs at your nipples, making you moan in pleasure as he continues his assault. His thrusts become faster, harder, more desperate. You know he's close and you can't take much more either.

“Eddie… Ah- Eddie-” You babble out his name. You wiggle under his hold and the harsh prodding of his cock into your cervix. The strings of another orgasm are being pulled tight.

He growls. “I know baby, I know. Fucking cum for me. Cum on my cock.”

Tears well up in your eyes and begin to overflow. Your body writhes, back bowing, muscles straining. You’re on the precipice.

Eddie sees how close you are and moves a hand down between your legs, circling his thumb over your slick-covered clit.

“Oooh- Oh fuck!” You scream. “Shit shit shit shitshitshitshit…. Ah!”

“Louder.” He moans. “Want the whole town to hear you sweet girl.”

“Eddie! Oh, I’m there. I’m fucking there.” You cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you let go. A scream erupts from your throat. Even in your ecstasy, you can feel Eddie’s tempo shift. He’s losing speed.

“Goddammit. I cumming too.” Eddie whimpers, sinking into you fully. His cum fills you up and you can fill you as it runs down your ass as he pulls out.

Your body is twitching as he moves you to lay more fully on the couch. He doesn’t follow though. No. He sinks to his knees and before your foggy mind can even comprehend it, he attaches his mouth to your pussy.

You are pliant under his touch, unable to resist. His tongue explores you and you moan in pleasure. He’s lapping up the mixture of his cum and your slick, humming at the taste the whole time.

You choke back a sob when his tongue flicks repeatedly over your clit before he begins to suck on the already abused bud. “Eddie, please.” Reaching down you tug on his hair but he doesn’t move. “Ed-” He starts shaking his head, burying himself in your pussy.

Another orgasm is quickly approaching. Your breathing quickens and you can feel your body trembling as he works you up, sending you higher and higher until you can’t take it anymore. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, and your body spasms in pleasure. He doesn't stop, continuing his ministrations until you finally come down from your high once more.

“Christ. You taste so good.” He says as he crawls up your spent body. Draping himself over you he places kiss after tender kiss all over your face. “Did so good for me. I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah?” You whisper.

“Mhum. So proud.” He grins, the light of the room catching in the wetness covering him from nose to chin.

Eddie cuddles into you more and your eyes close. He’s exhausted you. You both lay there in silence, content in each other's presence. Eddie eventually falls asleep, his breathing slow and steady. You don’t have the heart or the energy to wake him. You stay awake, just barely, still in awe of what happened.

It feels like hours have gone by when you finally do shake Eddie, calling out to him softly. He stirs, grumbling as he looks up at you.

“Eds, baby, I need to lock up.”

He only rests his head back down between your breasts. You shake him again.

“Eddie.” You say it a bit more sternly. “Get up and I’ll let you take me back to yours.”

That gets his attention and he’s up and dressing himself in an instant. You on the other hand are slower, feeling the prominent ache between your legs. He has to help you pull your panties and jeans back on.

He has to help you close the store as well, your legs weak and not trusted to hold up your body weight without crumbling to the ground.

Never had you thought this was how this would end. Sitting in the passenger seat of your favorite camboy's car as he drives you to his apartment, grinning like the Cheshire cat as you both think of all the fun things you’ll get up to. Round two was bound to be wilder than the first.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader #camboy!eddie #camboy!eddie munson #soft!dom eddie

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luveline · 3 months

Text

𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you finally work up the courage to kiss Eddie for the first time and he can’t cope (even if he claims he can). 2k words. requested here

cw fem!reserved/shy!reader, first kiss, heavy kissing, mutual pining, eddie being a hot dork

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Some people (Steve) call Eddie your loser boyfriend, while other people (the girls at work) call him the rockstar.

You see both sides of him now.

“Sweetheart!” he calls, the passenger seat window rolled down, his voice strong where he shouts behind the wheel. The van bumps the curve, leaving a sanguine line of rust in its wake and a creak to make everybody on the sidewalk wince.

“Hello,” you call back.

The van hums. You wait for him to be at a definite stop before you approach, hands on the open window, leaning up so as to see him best. It’s not just a usual date night tonight, Eddie’s taking you to Indianapolis for a rock show, and he’s dressed the part. “Woah, you look cool,” you say, bravely, wondering if that’s the right thing to say. It’s undoubtedly true —he’s slicked his curls with mousse to define them and leave them pitch black in accordance with his eyeshadow, dark and tapped into his lash line. The top he wears is incredibly tight, carving the softer lines of his abs for anyone to see, and his black jacket is ripped in places to expose the ink of his tattoos. “Are they multiplying?”

“What?” he asks, grinning at you. “Are you getting in? It’s freezing!”

“Your tattoos,” you explain, opening the door and popping up into the van with one shoe on the step.

“Shit, you wanna see?”

You’re not scared of Eddie, you just like him. He doesn’t worry you, doesn’t pressure you, nothing nefarious about him. He’s pretty, he’s considerate, and he does stuff like this, peeling out of his jacket to flex his arm at you and show you the Saran wrapping around his bicep. “Like that one?” he asks.

He has nice arms, and they’re all the better for his painful obsession. His newest one is difficult to see well under the wrapping. He notices you squinting and moves it up, tape pulling his skin.

“Another bat?” you ask.

“Not cool?”

“So cool,” you disagree. This bat is unlike the others on his arm, which are small and simple in comparison. This one is heavily detailed and very dark, fangs in small triangles bared. The eyes aglow. The skin around it is red. “Did you get that today?”

“On a whim. Still wanna date me, or is it getting to be too much?”

You can’t answer him, and he knows that. You’re not very good at navigating intimate conversation or circumstance, though you like him, and he must know that too. Or he must really like you. Your dates have been chaste. Only last time could you work up the courage to take his hand, but when you had, he rewarded your courage with a drove of tenderness, fingers rubbing your knuckles and squeezing soft patterns for hours at the back of the movie theatre.

The drive to Indianapolis takes near enough an hour. Eddie puts you on map duty but doesn’t use it, ignoring your offer of directions on the insistence that he knows a shortcut and then rerouting when you get too lost. He tells you there are snacks for you in the centre console and laughs, endeared, when you pop the lid and smile at it all. You talk about the show, a band you’d never heard of but had wanted to see on the grounds of sharing his interests. That’s what couples do, right? They try to do things together. You have to put yourself out of your comfort zone, and you’re happy to try if it means you can do it with him.

“You nervous?” he asks, pulling into the parking garage outside of the venue, a towering, multi-story fiasco crammed with cars and motorbikes.

“No,” you say, not quite mumbling as you look down at your hands.

“Good, don’t be. I’m gonna look after you, we’re gonna have a great time. And then we can get takeout after?” You look up. He stretches his arm out to glance at his watch. “I would’ve taken you before, but good old Indianapolis keeps getting further away.” He smiles apologetically.

You laugh without meaning to. His smile ramps up a notch.

“I love when you laugh. You have such a cute laugh,” he says.

“I know you’re lying,” you say, still laughing anyways.

“I’m not lying, I love the way you laugh!” He shakes his head, curls falling away from his face as he flicks on the light on the car roof. “We have half an hour till doors open.”

“You don’t wanna line up?”

“It’s kind of overwhelming and I figured we’d stay near the back of the crowd for your first gig here, it gets pretty rowdy.” He says ‘pretty rowdy’ like a drag, nodding gently, eyes lit with mirth. You love it when he talks like that.

“We can go now, get further in. I can handle it.”

“It’s not about handling it, I want you to have a good time. Plus, they could ruin your nice dress.”

You meet his gaze all smiles like he is, but heat flickers in your chest and in your stomach, and you have to look away. It’s an impulse you’ve always given into. You’re reserved in the feelings department but trying not to be, Eddie deserves reciprocation, but it’s hard. Either way, he seems to understand this about you, and he hasn’t complained.

Still, a bedraggled silence falls. Nearly awkward, unsure of how to tread, you sit together in your separate seats listening to cars parking and doors opening, closing on either side of you, the headlights of the cars driving past glaringly bright, white flashing over your screwed palms.

“You okay?” he asks.

You’re sure Eddie wants to kiss you. Three nights ago at the movies, after an hour of languid hand holding, he’d looked at your lips no less than three times as he said good night. He told you he’d had an amazing time, and that he couldn’t wait to see you again. You’d said the same in earnest, and then he’d just walked away. All those stolen glances and he hadn’t made a move.

“Eddie… why…” You poke your tongue into your bottom lip momentarily, chewing it over. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?”

“Um–” He lets out a nervous giggle before roughly clearing his throat. You peek at him, watching intently as he takes his hair away from his face with two hands. “I’m just waiting on you, sweetheart. No pressure.” He laughs as he talks, a picture of panic, “You’re sort of shy about that stuff, you know? I didn’t wanna surprise you.”

“But you do want to kiss me?” you ask unsurely.

He puts his hand on your knee, the space between you suddenly smaller and warmer, the light like white glaze on his pupils, illuminating his finer details. He has a mole nestled under his eyelashes too small to see until now; it catches your attention. You stare at him too long.

“Of course I do,” he says, eyebrows pinching together in concern. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.”

You nod and snap your head back to your lap. Why does he have to be so nice? You wish you’d listened to Steve, even if he was joking, you shouldn’t have ever said yes to Eddie, because now you’re terrified you can’t kiss him and you’ll ruin everything…

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not waiting for anything. You can take your time or you could never kiss me, and I won’t care. I swear. I mean, I really want you to kiss me but I’ll find a way to cope, I’m sure.” He takes his hand from your leg softly. “Do you want my jacket? It’s cold out, n’ we should probably start walking.”

You pull your head up slowly.

He reads your hesitant expression. “I’m in no rush,” he promises, head ever so slightly ducked to yours.

Okay, you think. Okay, I can do this. You hold your breath and start to lean in. He falters, a millisecond of misunderstanding, before he recognises what you’re doing and smiles. He reaches for your waist with enough care to give you a chance to change your mind, and when you’re close enough to feel his breath, his lashes shutter.

You follow suit, blind, with nothing but your intuition as you press your lips to his.

With a feeling like the hum of the engine under your hands, you bring your fingers to his soft cheek and hold him still. He breathes in harshly, touches you far from it, his palm slipping behind your back to pull you in. You lean into it; it feels natural to give in, to turn your head one way and part your lips, to have him kiss back with heat and surprising sweetness.

You feel unlike yourself in a good way, falling back to kiss forward again, a third time, trying to chase the lulling bliss of his lips. The stomach aching want. Your hand chases across his cheek and into the curls behind his ear, needing him closer but not expecting the sound it elicits. He sighs into your lips and you flinch back, startled by the sensation.

Eddie rubs your back with his index finger, unjudging as you drop your head to catch your breath.

“You okay?” he asks quietly. You can hear his affection. It’s palpable.

You nod, a dizzy weight collected in your forehead, thankful when his free hand catches your cheek and he turns your face gently to the side. “I got too hot,” you confess, only half of the truth.

“It was pretty hot.” He smiles at you like you’re the only person in the world, like you’ve a secret only he knows. “Want me to turn on the A/C?”

“No, I–” want to kiss you again, you think. You might even tell him so, but he starts to blow on your face, disrupting any thoughts you’d had earlier. He purses his lips and blows cold breath on your cheek, a tenderness in his gaze and the tip of his thumb where it rests just under your eye. “Oh.”

This might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for you. Your face feels precious in his careful hand, pretty under his longing look. You’re not scared when he encourages you back to his lips, your eyes quick to close, your hands across the gap of your seats to gather his shirt between tight fingers.

His kiss is a reflection of him. Loser, rockstar, he’s eager and his hands start to betray that, his kissing melty hot and addictive as the tip of his nose presses hard to yours. You turn your face to accommodate him better and that small action drives him crazy. He’s pulling you in, smiling into your mouth, making breathy sounds that’ll stick around in your head ten times as long as the tingles filling your chest as just kisses and kisses and doesn’t stop.

“M’sorry,” he says, pulling away, and then stealing another heavy, soft kiss like he couldn’t wait. “Sorry,” he apologises again, stroking the skin beside your eye to encourage you into opening them. “I’m not trying to get carried away. Just can’t believe you just kissed me.”

“No, it’s okay, I– I really wanted to.”

He kisses your cheek. You aren’t expecting it and you don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like kissing him has invigorated him, you’re a shot he knocked back, his excitement catching as he begs, “Close your eyes again, sweetheart, just one more–”

You raise your chin and he practically gasps, immediately pressing a last chaste kiss to your burning lips.

“I’m not always like this,” he promises, leaning away, his fingertips falling from your face to trace down your neck, your shoulder. “You’re just so fucking pretty I lost my mind. I’m on best behaviour from now on, swears.”

He raises his hand up in a scout’s honour.

You breathe out happily. “Thank you.”

“Oh my god. Quick, we better get out of this van before I lose my mind.” He shakes his head. “You’re insane. I have such a crush on you, holy fuck,” —he turns away from you and gets out of the van— “Jesus.”

You pull down the sun visor to check your reflection in the mirror. You look thoroughly kissed, eyes aglow with it.

“Fuck!” Eddie swears. You beam at yourself as he wraps on the window. “Come on, sweetheart! I have a concert to pretend to pay attention to.”

You slink out of your seat, brave enough to try for another kiss so long as it doesn’t kill him dead right here in the parking lot.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed! I love knowing what you think and it means so much to me/ inspires me to write even more!!! <3 but of course I hope you enjoyed reading regardless :D

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson lives

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usedtobecooler · 3 months

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eddie ‘monstercock’ munson, who is painfully unaware of the sheer size of his dick.

tw: sexual content 18+ minors dni, size kink, oral m receiving, piv sex, praise kink, dirty talk, general debauchery. for my love @raccoonboywrites

and, listen, you’re not a size queen at all. don’t care much for how big or small a cock is so long as whoever it’s attached to knows how to use it. but you gasp out loud once you get your fingers dig under eddie’s waistband, pulling the offending material down to let his length spring out.

it’s enough to shock you back into the room, watching as the thick weight of it slaps against eddie’s tummy, the way it curves into his navel. he’s wet, leaking at the head and matting down the pretty swirls of black hair that lead a trail down, down, down.

he’s rumpled against your bed frame, slumped down with his shirt rucked up his tummy. the prettiest pink flush spreading across his cheeks, tinging his ears and dipping as low as his collar. you’re willing to bet his chest is blotched with the lovely rosy colour, too. he grips aimlessly at your comforter, wide eyes watching your every move; tracing every hitch of your breath.

you wrap your hand around the base — purposely ignoring the pathetic little whine eddie makes, because jesus now isn’t the time to think too much about that — and you moan despite yourself when your hand doesn’t even wrap fully around the girth of it, dwarfing your fingers and palm.

“you— you’re so big, oh my god,” your voice catches at the end, desperate and dampened by your own desire for it. you lean forward, hot breath ghosting over him, tugging his foreskin back just enough for the head to pop out, shiny and reddening with need, “you could’ve at least warned me you were packing a python down there, fuck.”

“oh shit, really? i thought it was aver— holy fuck, you don’t have to—“ he’s bug eyed, eyebrows shooting under his fringe as you mouth at the head, determined and eager to get a taste of him. uncut, heavy on your tongue, the heady splash of precum blurting out to coat your tastebuds.

eddie’s knees kick up a little as you mouth greedily at his tip, pointing your tongue to run in circles around the glans on the underside. you smirk despite yourself, getting a kick out of it when eddie goes a little cross eyed, burying a ringed hand into your hair.

you indulge yourself, feeling the weight of him in your mouth as you sink lower, just far back enough as to not trigger your gag reflex. your lips wrapping around his hot flesh, suckling softly, reveling in each blurt of pearlescent release that drips onto your tongue.

“baby, sweetheart — fuck,” eddie gasps, breath shuddery, lightly pulling at your tresses to test the water. his mouth falling open into a quiet moan when your eyes flutter at the feeling, “y’can- y’can take more, right? s’not… s’not that big.”

your jaw cracks under what of him you’ve fit in, which truthfully isn’t much. despite your efforts, there’s still a good three inches of eddie’s cock left untouched by hand or mouth, and you really have to wonder if he’s that clueless of his size. you pull off with a wet pop, strings of saliva keeping you connected to him as you stare up with wet orbs.

“eddie, you’re huge.” your voice is wrecked, butterflies swirling in your tummy as you make eye contact with him once again. you flush under his debauched gaze, "i— shit. nobody's ever told you before?"

eddie shrugs, considers for a moment. you don't think he's aware of the fact he's holding you in place with his hand, gripping your hair just enough to keep you still, hovering over his dick just close enough that if he wanted to, he could push you back down, get your mouth back on him.

though, that’s clearly not what he wants. because, he’s slipping the hand from your hair, doing this kind of awkward dance as he lays you out where he wants you.

you end up on your back, thighs spread wide as eddie slots between them, mouthing hotly at your neck. his fingers graze along your flushed skin, dance on your hipbone, across your pelvis. dips those godforsaken fingers into your panties, carelessly fumbling over your sopping wet pussy.

“this is okay, right?”

“it’s all okay, eddie. anything you want.”

"not— not even touched you yet and you're already this wet?" eddie's voice is a low timbre against your skin, has you arching up into his touch with a soft little moan. he sounds shocked, no heat or teasing in his words.

"can't help it," you gasp, exhaling shakily when eddie swipes two fingers over your clit deftly, unable to hide his smile at how receptive you are, "feeling the size of you in my hand — my mouth, god. would've let you choke me with it, would've thanked you."

eddie buries his face into your cleavage, poorly concealing a choked whine. he's skillful with his fingers, working you over fast despite how much your words are clearly affecting him.

your hips rock in short little circles, fingers sinking into eddie's hair, tugging lightly at the nape of his neck. you whine, body set alight with the feeling of calloused fingers grazing the small bundle of nerves.

he's biting you, brandishing you with little blooming bruises, and with the noise he makes against your damp skin you'd think it was him getting touched like this, him hurtling towards the edge.

you're so wet that the slick noises of eddie's fingers on your pussy are deafening in your ears, causing your back to prickle with heat, tummy winding tight.

the hot, heavy flesh of his cock presses against your inner thigh, shocking loud moans from you both at the same time. you arch up into his touch, ears ringing as pleasure takes over your body.

"i— you're making me cum," you gasp breathily, a static feeling warming your body, eyes rolling into the back of your head. you grapple for eddie's hair once more, tugging with a ferocity as your release washes over you.

it's. something. you feel like you're fucking floating, and eddie keeps swirling his fingers perfectly, whispering little shocked praises and keening into your rough pulling as he wrings you out.

once eddie's sure you're done with the aftershocks of your orgasm, he hazards pushing two fingers into your soaked cunt, and you're practically shooting away with overstimulation. crying out, somehow swivelling your hips and pushing down onto his fingers further once the shock wears off.

"you're a shit," you gasp, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, "god, might've known your dick was gonna be big, fuckin' size of your fingers."

"was— was that good for you? can i, shit can i?" eddie's desperate, rutting the thick outline of his cock against your thigh. he's never stopped fucking leaking, soaking your leg in milky precum and allowing the slip and slide to feel good.

you nod, shaky hands tilting his head up so you can finally, finally, get your mouth on his. eddie's whole body presses flush against yours, his hand coming out to stabilise himself so he doesn't crush you, and fuck.

it's so charged, like he can't stilt his emotions as he snakes his tongue into your mouth, lapping at your own wetly. it's probably disgusting, doesn't feel like it though — you'd swallow his spit happily, whenever he wanted, if it meant he kept making you feel like this.

eddie's shaky hand fumbles for the base of his cock as you continue kissing, positioning himself so that he's nestled prettily between your legs. the kisses turn languid, and he almost sounds pained when he next speaks, "s-sorry. if it, if it hurts."

"let it hurt, i want it to," your demeanor falters a little, turning doe eyed and pleading as eddie slides the ruddy head of his cock up and down the seam of your cunt, flirts with the idea of pushing the tip in just to watch you gasp and keen.

"would never," eddie promises, finally — fucking, finally — pushing the first few inches into the sopping wet heat of your pussy. he cries out when you clench around him unwittingly, and you mumble out a small sorry as you adjust.

it's. not good. it's not bad, either, but fuck. you feel like you're being split from the inside, the thick tip pushing you wider than you anticipated. your fingers grapple for eddie's biceps, nails digging in tightly, "so fucking big, oh my god, you're gonna split me in half."

you're breathless and eddie catches on, panics a little, "you're okay? you're okay, right? i can sto—"

"if you stop, i swear to god," you seethe, looking at eddie with a fierce spark in your eyes, "keep going. fuck. keep going."

before long and with a little bit of resistance, eddie's buried deep inside of you. your bodies roll against one anothers, shallow, slow breaths

it starts slow, the catch and drag of eddie's cock shocking you both into silence. but, before long, your pussy catches up with the programme, gushing wet and allowing eddie to push in further with each thrust.

it's intimate, erotic.

"you're so tight," eddie all-out whimpers, head falling and shoulders shaking as he fucks you at a lazy pace, clearly trying his best to hold out for as long as he can.

"fuck, you’re so gentle,” you try, knees squeezing eddie’s narrow waist, thighs encapsulating him, “you can go quicker. not gonna break me.”

eddie shakes his head, almost like he’s bewildered. looks at you all fucking soft, clearly can’t help the rut of his hips as he buries in deep, biting his inner lips to muffle his noises.

you grasp a hold of eddie's hand with nimble fingers, guide his hand over the softness of your tummy, let him push down where his cock is buried deep inside of you. his whole body shudders, and you can feel where he kicks up.

"practically in my guts," you wheeze, unable to shake the full feeling despite how your pussy gushes for him, so full you swear you feel him in your throat with every deep thrust he can muster, "you're s-so big, eddie."

"oh— jesus, can't do shit like that. can't say shit like that," eddie grunts desperately, rutting into you and gripping for your waist tightly, other hand still pushed down on the pudge of your belly, "gonna make me cum so, so quick."

"can feel every ridge of you, you're splitting me apart," you keen, "i can't— god, you've ruined me f-for anyone else. yours, yours, m'yours."

eddie's forehead slumps against your own, and you're panting into each others mouths more than anything else, lips barely brushing, "mine, you're mine." he agrees, though he sounds pained and submissive as he says it.

your hand snakes around eddie's neck, holding him in place as he fucks you so desperately, so rough you're rattling the stupid bedframe, and you don't think you've ever felt anything like this before. it's all-consuming, the tug between sore and soul-crushingly sensual.

your second orgasm hits you like a freight train, the constant press against your spot causing a quicker build up than you could've anticipated. you both make eye contact as you come with a muted gasp, nails scraping harshly at the soft skin on eddie's neck as you rock it out.

"didn't think you could get any tighter, god," eddie whimpers, eyes squeezing shut, finger-shaped bruises sure to be left on your hips as he fucks you in some sort of reckless abandon, "fuck, i'm so close. i'm so sorry, fuck, fuck."

you nod, understanding, the wet clap of skin on skin deafening as your release allows an even smoother glide. he's fucking ethereal above you, covered in a light sheen of sweat, mouth open in a constant stream of steady moans.

you reach between where both of your bodies meet, where the final few inches don't quite fit, spreading your fingers either side of his cock to allow friction as he fucks in and out rapidly, chasing his high.

eddie looks at you with a wild expression, eyebrows shooting up into his fringe. he grunts like a fucking animal, eyes drifting down to where your hand is, "you— you— i'm cumming, holy fuck—!"

he's loud when he comes, full body wracked with it. you feel his cock pulse and kick inside of you, painting your insides deep. the moan you let out at the feeling is hardly voluntary, so pathetic you flush hot when you realise just how loud you are.

"thank you, thank you," eddie's mumbling against your skin, kissing the side of your neck softly as he comes down, "god, you're perfect. so perfect."

you shudder, overcome with this sappy fucking fond feeling, allowing eddie to collapse on top of you once he's done. it's soft, domestic, even.

you both end up in some sort of gross, body fluid covered cuddle as you calm down. blissed out in the post-orgasmic haze, and fuck.

maybe you're in love with him.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x you #eddie munson drabble #my fanfic #mine #x reader

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lovebugism · 6 months

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ok reader x eddie having a casual conversation about sex, talking about what they're both into, leading to some smut??? just hearing what eddie's into sounds so hottttt (i imagine its filthy,, sorry)

ty for requesting! hope you like it!! — a failed date with eddie leads to a night in and several confessions (established relationship, mostly fluff, talks of sex but no actual smut 18+, 1.6k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson is a hopeless romantic.

Not because he loves like it’s breathing (though some would argue otherwise), but because his attempts to be affectionate with you are complete and utter failures.

He had a whole romantic day planned. A late lunch, a quick walk, and then sunset at the park. Honestly, it probably would’ve been a pretty metal date if it was any day other than this one — the biggest flood of the whole goddamn year.

You got to the diner just fine but had to rush back to the trailer in the rain since he didn’t have his van. Thankfully, it waited to outright pour until he got you home. Now, his leather jacket — which you’d used as a makeshift umbrella — hangs beside the opened window to dry.

The orange autumn breeze rolls over your bare bodies like silk (because, of course, an innocent shower after getting drenched in the rain couldn’t not end in getting dirty again).

“Was all this just a ploy to get me into bed?” you tease, tracing the freckles on his back with the tip of your finger. “’Cause you coulda just asked, you know? I would’ve said yes.”

Lying flat on his stomach, Eddie laughs into his folded-up arms. His deep brown hair brushes his pale shoulders when he turns to look at you. His smile is swollen and rosy and crooked.

“You got me, princess. Making my girlfriend walk in disgusting weather was all a part of my evil plan.”

“I wouldn’t say it was evil.”

“No?”

“Sinful, maybe. Sexy, even,” you joke with a lopsided grin. “But no, not evil.”

“Is that so?” he lilts as he rises on his elbow to prop his cheek on his fist.

You shake your head and roll onto your back. Your eyes flit to the spotted ceiling. A smirk blossoms on your lips. “I feel like evil would imply that it was hurtful in some way. And that thing you did in the shower felt way too good to be evil.”

“What thing?” the boy wonders with pinched-together brows.

You shoot him a look. “You know…” you hum vaguely, expectantly.

“No. I don’t, actually,” Eddie laughs, mostly at himself. “I’m kinda dumb, in case you forgot.”

“You’re not dumb, Eds.”

“Stop being sweet. You’re deflecting.”

You concede with a small huff. “That… That thing. With your mouth. When you pressed me against the wall and— please, don’t make me describe it, Eddie,” you ramble, then cut yourself off to whine.

He meets your grimace with a boyish grin. “I don’t know. I kinda like hearing you talk about it.”

“I’ll die,” you deadpan.

“You’re so dramatic.”

His words are harsh, but his pink smile is kind. He kisses you with it after — a smacking peck to the corner of your mouth that migrates rather quickly. He sprinkles his lips along your jaw and chin and neck.

That’s where he lingers.

Eddie finds your pulse point and goes a half-inch higher, just like he did while he was fucking you against the shower wall. You nearly came the first time he kissed you there.

He sucks at the delicate skin until he leaves another faint mark. The feeling of his tongue and teeth on your newfound sweet spot makes your toes curl. It has you moaning out loud before you mean to.

His lips audibly smack when he pulls away.

“That thing?” he wonders, smiling down at you like he already knows the answer.

Your thighs clench together. Your bones are made of mush. “That thing,” you repeat in the affirmative.

“Well, if we’re sharing secrets…” Eddie singsongs, then leans in all close like he’s about to spill the latest gossip. His fingers spread out along your bare waist, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I really liked it when you got all mean.”

You hadn’t thought much of it, then — when Eddie edged you on the counter with his fingers and laughed when you writhed.

You didn’t even let him make it up to you after, just sucked him off and told him he wasn’t allowed to touch you. “Don’t cum ’til I tell you to, understand?” you’d said. “Or I’m gonna get myself off, and you’re gonna watch.”

He was a good boy for you, though, and you let him fuck you in the shower.

Your nose scrunches in muted embarrassment. “I wasn’t being that mean, was I?”

“No. I mean, you could certainly get meaner…” Eddie assures with a shake of his head, then grins as his fingers crawl up your ribcage. You fight back a shiver. “Which I think could be preferable from time to time.”

“So, you want me to be more… dominant?”

He shrugs a pale, freckled shoulder. “Yeah. Sometimes. I like watching you get all dumb for me, don’t get me wrong, but every time you get a little mean, I almost cum in my pants.”

The blatant confession makes you go slightly stupid. You just nod at him, lazy and unblinking. “Yeah. I can do that. You know, if that’s what you want.”

“I do want,” Eddie hums, matching your sloppy head shake. His nicotine-coated breath fans across your cheek. “Very, very much.”

“But not all the time, though, right?”

“No. Not all the time. Just… sometimes— when the moment’s right or whatever.”

“Sure…”

Eddie’s grin broadens when you trail off. A faraway look glazes over your eye. His brows raise expectantly. “What’s that look for?”

You blink rapidly as you descend from the clouds. Shaking your head, you dismiss him. “Nothing. Nothing— I just… I did kinda like not letting you come right away.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Eddie concurs, suddenly breathless.

Your gaze flits to his, mousy and twinkling. Your hands fidget above the covers. “And I kinda wanna try letting you cum and maybe… not stopping…”

Eddie’s eyes go wide. His mouth opens to respond, but he forgets how to speak. He barely remembers to breathe.

“Is that… Is that weird?” you ask, forcing a laugh at his unusual silence.

“No!” he blurts, sounding much louder in the honeyed quiet of his bedroom. “No, that’s… That’s really hot, actually. Like, really hot.”

He zones out just like you had. The imagery of it all makes his stomach whirl. He’s done it to you a number of times — brought you to the edge and kept on pushing you over until you pushed him away. But he’d never thought about ever doing it to himself till now.

Actually, there’s quite a lot of things he’s done to you that he might enjoy himself if he thinks about it.

The thought alone opens a world of possibility in his wild, wild head.

“Can I tell you about something I was thinking about the other day?” he wonders suddenly.

Though slightly startled by the blurted question, you nod. “Of course.”

His gaze flits away from yours. His hand fidgets at your waist, fingers softly scratching at your burning skin. “You know my handcuffs? The ones I clip on my jeans sometimes?”

Again, you nod.

“Well, I— I have the keys, you know? So it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if we— you know— if we used them…”

“On me?” you press, brows pinched in distant concern.

Eddie shakes his head immediately. “No. I know you don’t like that.”

“So… on you?”

“Yeah. Maybe. If you want,” the boy mumbles, suddenly shy in a way you’ve only seen a handful of times — including earlier, when he was begging to cum in your mouth. “I just think it could be cool, you know? Like, you could tie me up and just… use me. If you want,” he repeats.

“Use you?” you repeat with a soft laugh.

He shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t— I don’t really care about getting off as much as I care about you getting off, you know? I just… wanna take care of you. Want you to take what you want.”

You open your mouth to respond only to find that all words have lost meaning. Your brain is a jumbled mess of alphabet soup. So you just nod, dumb at the very thought.

Eddie’s hand rises from the covers. His palm settles warm at your jaw. His fingers smell faintly of sex as his calloused thumb smooths across your chapped lips. “You could, like, rub yourself on my cock. Get yourself off on top of me,” he murmurs lowly to you, a quiet and crooked grin pulling at his mouth. “Wouldn’t that be metal?”

“Yeah…” you answer with a sigh, getting lost in the daydream right along with him. “Wouldn’t put you inside me at first, either. Not until you’re begging for it.”

His smile widens. “Exactly.”

“Then I’ll ride you until you make me cum.”

Eddie nods, egging you on. He tucks his face into your neck, if only to conceal how ardently he’s blushing. He hides his pink cheeks between your jaw and shoulder and kisses you where he knows it’ll drive you crazy.

“Mhmm?” he urges, muffled.

You sigh a faint moan. Your fingers curl in his wild hair. You press your lips to his temple and continue. “And I’ll let you come, too. Eventually… But I won��t stop.”

“Fuck,” he groans into your pulse.

“Not until you’ve filled me up three times—”

“Oh, fuck…”

You tug at his hair with a soft, stern touch you think you could learn to master for him. His lips click faintly when he parts from you. He blinks down at you with glassy chocolate eyes.

“Something like that?” you wonder, feigning innocence with a sweet-sounding lilt.

Eddie nods, sloppy and stupid. He stammers. “Yeah… Yeah. Some—Something like that.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things smut #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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wonderlandwalker · 6 days

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I love love love dealer!eddie fics but I always get so thrown off by the sheer logistics of it. As someone from the Netherlands I'm aware it might be slightly more expensive here because it's decriminalised, but like 1/4 ounce is gonna set you back at least 50 bucks and that's the cheap stuff. Idk where Eddie is getting this 20 bucks per ounce weed everyone's talking about but I'm concerned

(I'm not saying you have to do research to write fanfics this specifically is just objectively funny to me)

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jewishrat420 · 3 months

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No one has ever flirted with Steve the way Eddie flirts with Steve.

And it's not like no one flirts with Steve. God, no, it's not like no one flirts with Steve. Steve can't walk into the grocery store without at least three sets of heads turning and focusing all their attention on him.

And he's not even trying to be cocky about it. That's just the reality he was gifted when he came out of his mother's womb looking like the world's freshest Adonis. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if they changed the colloquialism to "Steve."

Regardless. For as many people like to flirt with him, make themselves known, filtering in and out of his orbit like willing planets, no one knows quite how to get him going like Eddie. Maybe it's that they're not as confident as he is, maybe they're scared of the rejection Eddie was born facing and will die knowing.

Maybe they're scared of ruining their chances. Maybe Eddie isn't.

For whatever reason, Eddie doesn't seem like he's scared. Even though there was a long time before he knew Steve was bi, was just as into the flirting as Eddie was, even though there was a chance (not like it'd ever happen, but the unknown was there) that Steve could have beaten him up just for calling him "sweetheart," he did it anyway. He got right up into Steve's space, close enough that Steve could get high off the remnants of the joint he'd smoked earlier, and gave him a look that offered everything.

And, God, Steve wanted it. He wanted it all.

And so that began months of what Steve has so aptly referred to as torture. Apt, because he knows what it's like. He has the scars and the fear of ice cream and needles to prove it.

But this... this is a different kind of torture. Mental, emotional, spiritual, whatever you call it-- this is meant to tear him apart from the inside out, meant to make him want to rip his own bones out from his body and offer them to Eddie if it meant the other man making a fucking move.

And Steve would, is the thing. He would absolutely make the first move-- it's what he usually does, anyway, and he's got a pretty damn good success rate for it.

But, for whatever reason, this feels different. This back and forth they have, the constant teasing, the sliding in and out of each other's orbits, unable and unwilling to refute the most fundamental laws of gravity... it's something special, at least to Steve. Something sacred.

Which is why, when Eddie calls Steve "Harrington" for the first time in months, his first response is to pout.

They're about halfway through splitting a joint, the sweet smoke curling around wisps of hair and parted lips and filtering in and out of the holes in their sweaters. The air outside is getting colder, thinner, sharper, as the winter months dreg on. But inside the trailer, it's comfortable and warm. Safe.

Steve's being a bit of a hog, and he's man enough to admit that. But he had a shitty day at work and all he wants is to feel nothing other than the weightless relaxation of a good high buzzing through his bones. Sue him for taking a little more than his fair share of the good stuff, even if it is Eddie's.

"Steve," Eddie whines, reaching his hand out and curling his fingers in request. "Give it over."

"No," Steve responds, just on the edge of whiny. He brings the joint to his lips and takes a long, slow, deep drag, feeling the sweet heat of the smoke burning in his lungs, taking up the space where oxygen should be. He goes a little dizzy with it, feels his eyes lower. "Mine."

Steve can't see it, but he knows Eddie's rolling his eyes. Can sense the shift in the air, can sense every little fucking thing about Eddie at any given moment.

"C'mon, Harrington, you're being a brat."

And, normally, Steve would find another aspect of that sentence to freak out about. Would zero in on the word brat and relish in the flare of heat it sends shooting up his spine like firework sparks. Would squint his eyes at Eddie and tilt his head in the way he knows makes him look good, would give him his cutest little smirk and say, "Who, me?" and would preen in the response it gets.

This time, though, he's much too focused on the other name Eddie used for him. The one he hasn't heard come out of Eddie's mouth since before he realized that Steve was, as he put it, "actually a good dude."

He doesn't realize he's pouting until the sudden silence in the room starts to creep in, make a home in the buzzing in his ears. He didn't realize that he didn't say anything, and neither did Eddie, and now they're sitting in a mess of their own making. Of Eddie's own making, really.

His next words come out without effort, without intent.

"Don't call me that."

He chances a look over at Eddie, at the risk of appearing as vulnerable as he feels, and to his distress, he can't get a read on the man. His dark eyebrows furrow, brown eyes squinting slightly, and his lips part like he wants to speak. He licks them. Steve's eyes follow the motion unintentionally.

"Call you what?" Eddie says on an exhale. "A brat?"

Steve shakes his head. "Harrington. Don't like it when you call me that."

Eddie kind of softens, then, and Steve didn't realize he had stiffened until he isn't anymore. He sort of sinks into the couch, spreads his legs imperceptibly wider, and Steve wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the way his left knee brushes against Steve's just barely. Just enough for those heated sparks to send a couple pinpricks across his skin.

"No?" he says, looking over to meet Steve's gaze. His cheeks are flushed, whether from the weed or the heat of the room or the heat between them, and Steve's sure that his look the same. "What do you want me to call you, then?"

Steve's definitely blushing now. He looks away from Eddie, tucks his chin to his chest, lets the joint between his fingers burn away. Eddie takes it from him, gently, and brings it to his lips. Steve hears the paper crackling as he inhales.

His voice is quiet, almost meek, when he speaks. It's completely unlike Steve, completely unlike the persona he used to so proudly take on-- but then again, Eddie is completely unlike anyone that Steve has ever met. He's more real, more human, and in turn, Steve is too.

"...You know."

Eddie makes a little noise, then, something in the back of his throat that was born and died within the very same second it was released. Something soft, almost pained, like his body couldn't help the reaction it had to that sentence.

Steve watches the thin, long line of Eddie's arm reach forward and press the joint into the glass of the ashtray. He follows the motion until Eddie's hand settles into the rips over his knee, fingers intertwining with the thread. His pinkie is dangerously close to Steve's own sweatpant-covered skin, and he feels the contact as if Eddie were touching him.

Eddie's hand twitches like it wants to move, and Steve resists the urge to grab it, hold it within the warmth of his own palms.

"Do I?" Eddie says, his voice quieter than it was a moment ago. That thick silence fills the trailer once more, settling in between the soft buzzing of the lightbulb in the kitchen and the muffled humming of the crickets outside. Steve hears Eddie take a stuttering breath. "Tell me."

Steve sighs, feeling his chest burn as his heartbeat picks up. His throat pounds with the pulsing of it. He places his own hand on his right knee, pinkie finger edging closer and closer to the space where Eddie's meets his. Eddie's hand twitches again.

"Like it when you call me sweet things," he says on an exhale, as though getting it out all in one breath would make it easier. "Like how it makes me feel."

Eddie lets out another one of those noises, then, something more like a cut-off groan. His hand curls into the fabric of his jeans for no more than a second before he releases it, and Steve gets to watch as the blood blanches and then returns to his knuckles.

"Sweet things, huh?" he muses, voice only slightly strained. If Steve didn't know any better, he'd say Eddie is nervous. "Like... Stevie?"

Steve hums. "Yeah. I like that."

Eddie's pinkie moves closer. Barely. Imperceptibly, if not for the way Steve is tuned into his every movement, like a dog to the sound of their owner's keys.

"Yeah?"

Steve hums again.

"What about... sweetheart?"

Steve closes his eyes. Lets out a shaky breath, inhales a smoother one.

"Yeah."

Steve feels something brush against his pinkie. Something warm.

"Honey?"

Steve nods, biting his lip. "Mhm."

Eddie lets out a quiet little laugh. "Even big boy?"

Steve returns it helplessly, feels the edges of a smile pulling at his lips. The air feels cold on his teeth, as though he's burning up from the inside out and anything outside of his own body is a cooling salve.

"Especially big boy."

Eddie laughs a little louder, and the jostling of his body brings his pinkie even closer to Steve's. Completely pressed against his own, now.

Steve swears he can feel his heartbeat through it. Or maybe it's his own.

"What about..." Eddie takes a breath. "Love?"

Steve's own breath hitches. He opens his eyes, looks at where their skin is touching in more than one place. He feels it, feels every point of contact where the cells that make Eddie are existing with the cells that make Steve. Wonders, maybe, if they stay here long enough, if they'll merge and mold over time. Become one.

"Yeah," Steve breathes. "I like that one a lot."

Eddie hums, and the room falls back into silence for a moment. Steve's skin burns where their fingers are touching. He moves his hand to the right, just barely, just enough to let Eddie know that he feels it. Just enough to ask Eddie if he does, too.

His response is overwhelming.

Eddie moves his hand to the left, solidifies all the points of contact between them, and Steve feels like he's exploding. Feels like a bubbling pit of lava that's set to burst, to overflow, like it can't hold back anymore. Like it's tried for so long that it's hurting, now, pressurized and boiling and hot, way too fucking hot.

And then, Eddie crosses his pinkie over Steve's, and Steve thinks he's dying.

He takes in a sharp breath like it's the last one he'll ever get, and he doesn't even have it in him to be embarrassed about it. He knows Eddie is right there with him, knows he's not the only one feeling this irrefutable pull like gravity between them. Knows, hopes, it's only a matter of time before they collide.

Eddie hums again. He taps his pinkie once over the smallest of Steve's knuckles, almost like he's making a decision. He takes a long, slow breath before he speaks.

"You know which one's my favorite?"

Steve's throat clicks. "Which?"

"Look at me."

Steve turns his head to the right for no more than a second before Eddie's lips are on his.

It's hungry, it's indulgent, it's immediately addictive. It feels like breathing.

Eddie presses his whole body against Steve's, and he can feel the way his tendons flex where his hand is covering the back of Steve's. Where their pinkies meet, their fingers intertwine and cross over one another like the roots of a tree, their bodies the whole mycorrhizal network.

The next word is spoken against Steve's lips, and Steve can feel the way his mouth forms around it. Decides, from this moment on, that he never wants to hear it another way.

"Baby."

Steve's exhale is more of a moan, a dying sound that, like Eddie's before, lived for only a moment in his throat before pushing through the wall of his lips. Eddie takes it, holds it in his own mouth, swallows it down hungrily and slides his tongue against Steve's as though asking for more.

"That's--" Steve pants, getting his hands on Eddie's hips and pulling until he's seated in his lap. "Mine too."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, his lips still pressed against Steve's. Their words are muffled against each other, but they don't need to hear them to understand. They only need to feel the outline of them, the shape of the consonants and vowels against and around each other's tongues. They only need to press their bodies together and know, intimately, the meaning in each other's hearts.

"Yeah. Want you to call me that forever."

This time, Steve feels Eddie's laughter against his lips. His chest. Feels it bubble up in the space between his ribs, feels it flow into his mouth like a river, swallows it down like the first glass of water after a run. Feels his own creep up behind his teeth in return, gives it back to Eddie like an offering, who takes it greedily. Hungrily. Gratefully.

"Think that can be arranged, baby."

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie headcanon #absolutely no idea where this came from #but it's here #first kiss #mutual pining #flirting #steddie first kiss #teasing #steve harrington is down bad #eddie munson is down equally bad #idk how to tag things

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longlivefanfic-net · 2 years

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Bainshed&Bloody: Eddie the Aching

Summary: Chapter 5 of 8. Eddie has been transformed into a vampire by Vecna and is training to serve him while he descends even further into madness. Post-Volume II. Eddie Munson wasn't dead when he was left in the Upside Down; well, he wasn't dead anymore. Steve Harrington has spent the days since they came back to Hawkins haunted by the idea that he could have saved Eddie--or at least died in his place. It quickly becomes clear that the Hawkin's group has to go back to the Upside Down and, when they do, they find an unfamiliar face. Vampire!Eddie Munson, Grieving Steve Harrington.

Word Count: 3.9k

Start from the beginning here!

Content: Gore, implied homophobia, blood drinking (he is a vampire though so like that shouldn't be a surprise I think?)

A/N: you ever write something and immediately think “why would i do this to myself??” thats where we are in this fic. Also: we r finally getting into some steddie but it is so angst driven im sorry jesus christ; vampirisim as an obvious metaphor for homosexuality and tw for implications of homophobia

Chapter Five: Eddie the Aching

When Vecna’s claw twitched, sending poison racing through Eddie’s veins until his heart had stopped, Eddie dropped to his knees in the attic and clutched at his throat as it burned. He was convinced it was the end. He pushed his eyes closed, tight, picturing the faces of his uncle, his bandmates, the Hellfire club, even his father. Right as his lungs stopped burning, his body twisting in pain, his memory shoved the image of Steve Harrington against the backs of his eyelids; it was the last time Eddie had ever seen Steve, as he was jokingly reassuring Harrington that he was not a hero. He had looked at Eddie like maybe he understood what Eddie’s eyes were saying, his mouth unable to form the words. Come back to me, Harrington. He couldn’t have said it outloud, couldn’t have risked Wheeler or Henderson narrowing their eyebrows at him, but he thought–maybe–Steve’s eyes were promising to see him again, to help Eddie figure out why his stomach flipped every time he found the former high school sweetheart’s eyes on him. “Make him pay.” That’s what Eddie had said to Steve before they had separated for the last time. He had meant for Steve to make Vecna pay, but, as usual, it was Eddie that ended up in pain.

Since his change, the burning along the sides of Eddie’s throat was near constant. It was a type of suffering he had never experienced before; worse than his first tattoo, worse than the time he decided to pierce his own ear and ended up with an infection. Vecna had seen how Eddie clawed at his throat when he changed, gasping in pain as the burning rippled through him. Within moments, one of the pale, too-tall creatures had appeared in the shadows of the room, dragging something dirty and blackened with dried blood around open wounds.

The smell of the animal–a deer–was wrong in Eddie’s nose, nauseating and dirty, yet it carried with it the scent of something warm and filling. His mind flooded with images of his uncle’s trailer, the lights warm on snowy winter nights as they shared bowls of venison stew, comfortable silence broken only by the sound of spoons. When Eddie felt his mouth water, his newly sharpened teeth aching, he finally understood what Vecna had done to him.

He folded to his knees, bending like a paper doll with creased lines, and ducked his head to the neck of the feebly-struggling animal. Its large, black eyes looked at his, and its legs kicked out in fear. Eddie simply put a hand over its face, covering its eyes as he dipped his head to its throat. He could smell the main artery running under the fur, and his teeth tore the soft flesh apart as he opened a life-ending wound and drank. It didn’t take long for the animal to grow still, legs slowing as its heart did. When the blood stopped flowing, Eddie ran his tongue over it, desperate to take as much as he could.

For the first time since he had woken up in the Upside Down, Eddie felt relief. He couldn’t hear the whispers, the moans that had haunted his waking moments since he woke up here. The hunger he had been unable to name for the last few days was gone. The burning in his throat was soothed, cooled by the heat of the animal’s blood. He felt complete, felt whole like he had never felt in Hawkins.

He looked up at Vecna, still suspended over the floor like a spider in a web. “Why would you do this to me?” Eddie couldn’t help himself from asking the question; he was confused. Steve, Nancy, and Robin had all been right here. If Vecna had wanted someone, a soldier like he had called Eddie, why hadn’t he taken one of them? Turned one of them? They were the heroes; Eddie was the one who always ran.

Vecna stared at him, giving Eddie the distinct feeling he knew what was coursing through his mind. “You died a hero. I intend to ensure your afterlife is the same.” “What do you mean?” Eddie felt his brows slide over his eyes, his mouth turning down as he flinched away from the sound of Vecna’s voice. “You know pain, Eddie Munson. True pain. The pain of being unloved, the pain of being the one who wasn’t like the others, the pain of knowing that if you ever revealed yourself you’d be cast out, maybe even locked up or killed.” Eddie swallowed, hard, at Vecna’s words, flinching slightly as he understood his meaning. “You have seen the worst of human nature. You understand me, Eddie Munson. You see why they must be eliminated. And you will rule at my bidding when they are gone.”

At that, Eddie’s head shot up, his eyes searching the scorched skin for any indication of whether he truly believed what he said. “Be my soldier, Eddie Munson. Be my bloody hand, and you will have the freedom to live as you have always wished to.” Eddie bit his lip, staring at the creature that promised him impossible things. But were they impossible? He had changed Eddie, had turned him into something stronger, faster, better than Eddie had ever been before. He had provided Eddie with the gift of blood, the gift of relief, and it was likely he would kill Eddie without flinching if he said no. Eddie looked up at Vecna from his place on the blood-splattered, weather-beaten wood floor, already on his knees, and he swore his fealty.

****

In the weeks since he made his pledge, Eddie had been preparing to serve Vecna in whatever way he was asked to. Every moment of his new life had been focused on gaining access to more blood, to satisfying Vecna so that he would be rewarded. Eddie had spent the first day after his pledge lying on the floor, allowing Vecna to hunt through every part of his mind. He had seen memories of his childhood he hadn’t even known he still had: images of his mother laughing, his father throwing a ball to him, the tiny house they had lived in together before his mom had died, his dad the morning after his first arrest, his Uncle Wayne’s face the first time his dad had been unable to pick him up from a sleepover.

Vecna had also pulled more recent images to his mind: the middle school talent show, his uncle’s face the first time he had been suspended, the bitter taste of his first beer, playing guitar quietly alone in his room, the way his body had felt the first time he got high. Finally, near the end of the night, Vecna showed Eddie his memories of his last day alive. He showed Eddie the image of Steve, Robin, and Nancy walking away from him after he proclaimed himself to not be a hero; himself, choosing to cut the rope that would have let him back into Hawkins; the demobats surrounding him, tearing his skin apart with their sharp mouths; Henderson making him a promise to lead Hellfire club as Eddie’s lungs burned with his last few living breaths.

Those memories had hurt. A part of Eddie had struggled, an old, vaguely familiar feeling in his now-ever-silent chest cavity, as Vecna had strung each memory out for the two of them to watch together. But none of it was as painful as what had come afterwards.

In the weeks since swearing his fealty to Vecna, he had spent every day training to be his best soldier, his most reliable hand. Much of the training was harmless; Eddie’s body didn’t feel exhaustion like it used to, his muscles light and loose at all times under his skin as he lunged and dodged. Vecna had presented him with a sword, a weapon like Eddie had only ever dreamed of while reading fantasy novels and playing Dungeons and Dragons in his past life. When he had picked it up for the first time, holding it in his chilled hands and examining the silver of the blade, the balance in the hilt, the light glow of blue light that radiated through the steel into his body, he had accepted, truly, that he was never going back to Hawkins.

That same little struggle in his chest had convinced him it could still happen; he had dreamed of going home, of hunting deer with his uncle, of living like the Byers kid, that one that had died and come back years ago. Dustin had told him that the kid–Will, one of Henderson, Sinclair, and Wheeler’s friends–had had something living in him, some of this Upside Down shit. It had almost killed the kid again, but they had rescued him, freed him from it. Up until Eddie wrapped his too-long fingers around his sword, hearing the click of his rings against the steel that had been forged for his hand, he had secretly held onto a dream that they would be able to do the same for him. That he would run like hell out of the Creel house one day, burst through the gate in his trailer with his new strength, and let Henderson and Harrington save him.

But that dream was gone now. It had slipped away in between the hours of darkness in the Upside Down, where Eddie fought demogorgon after demogorgon, colonies of demobats, even packs of demodogs. He had slaughtered so many of them now; the sword had become a natural extension of his hand, the blood splatter of his victims across his face a welcome warmth. Vecna insisted, frequently, that he continue to train his physical powers. He wanted Eddie to understand the full extent of what his new body could do, the sheer prowess unleashed when he had burned the last of Eddie’s humanity out of him. Eddie had never been weak before, but now he was strong, stronger than strong. He could move faster than he had ever seen anyone move before, and his eyes were always moving to the next target as his weapon sliced the life out of his last victim.

Eddie couldn’t help but think about the Hawkin’s High bullies every now and then–those kids like Jason, who looked at people like Eddie and thought they were weak. Eddie had been involved in more than his fair share of fights over the years, never choosing to avoid a black eye over protecting someone. Even other people who made fun of him, whispered jokes about his long hair and his chains and metal band shirts, were Eddie’s to protect. Before. Before he had woken up in the Upside Down. Now, he was the powerful one. Jason Carver and his little group of too-tough boys with daddy’s power to get them out of trouble wouldn’t be able to run from him now. Eddie was looking forward to the day Vecna allowed him into Hawkins, sent him with his sword to take the heads of the likes of Jason Carver like he had taken the heads of the creatures Vecna had him spar with.

Eddie also, occasionally, thought about Chrissy Cunningham. And Dustin Henderson. And Sinclair’s younger sister, the one who had played in the last D&D game as Lady Applejack. He thought about Red, and Robin, and Nancy–and Steve. He would free them, free them from the Jason Carvers of the world. And when they recognized him, when they realized he had come back to Hawkins stronger, faster, the hero they hadn’t realized they had needed?

Eddie had a vision in his mind: he would ask Vecna to pardon his friends, have his wish granted to thank him for his loyalty, and they would all be safe, Eddie serving as their protector. And, if he occasionally needed a bit of blood to keep the voices out of his mind, he imagined one of them would be willing. He would save them; he would rule with Vecna; he could be happy, the kind of happy he had assumed he would never find. The kind of happy that was off-limits to Munson’s, the kind of happy that was out-of-reach for men like him.

As the days ticked by, though, Eddie stopped dreaming of saving the weak. When he was hungriest, waiting for Vecna to reward him with the hot blood of an animal dragged from the Hawkins woods to die in the Upside Down and listening to the whispers and screams that flooded the world around him when he was hungry, he found himself wondering what they would taste like. He imagined Jason and the men like him in the world would taste similar to those droplets of blood that splattered his mouth as he killed creatures from the Upside Down; acidic, angry, like a burning ember on Eddie’s tongue.

But the others…Eddie wondered if they would remind him of meals he had enjoyed before he died, like the deer did. He wondered if they would be sweet, or salty; he wondered, if he drank enough of their blood instead of an animal’s, if he’d be able to feel his heart beat inside of his chest again. Every time these thoughts crossed his mind, Eddie would shake his head, violently, like he could simply push the thoughts out that way. He did his best to ignore those thoughts, but sometimes he wasn’t allowed to let them go.

Eddie’s thoughts did not belong entirely to him anymore. Vecna had started more intensive training as Eddie mastered his sword. Plunging into his mind, Vecna would pull out memories of the worst days of his life. The demogorgons would transform into high school bullies, into cops who patrolled the trailer park looking for reasons to get out of their cars, into the strangers at the grocery store who turned their lips up in disgust as he passed by with a six pack on a Friday night.

Eddie had hesitated the first time Vecna had done this; Jason Carver had taken the place of the demogorgon in front of him, his too-thin lips curving into that shit-eating grin that Eddie associated with never seeing a single consequence of any of your actions. The sword had suddenly felt heavy in Eddie’s hands–he couldn’t lift it, couldn’t swing with the force he needed to take the demogorgon’s head off now that it looked…real. Like someone Eddie knew. Even if he hated him, Eddie had never pictured himself murdering Jason (well, not really, not in an actionable way).

The demogorgon had clawed at him, scratching against Eddie’s skin and cutting another hole into the filthy Hellfire club shirt he had been wearing for almost a month now. He had looked at the hole in his sleeve, thinking of his friend’s crowded around a table filled with hand-painted characters and dice, and had spun the sword in his hand before wrapping both palms around the hilt, raising it high, and bringing it down to split Jason’s grin in two.

After a while, though, that hadn’t been enough for Vecna. Eddie could kill the creatures of the Upside Down without blinking; he still hesitated, occasionally, when it looked like he was beheading the monsters of Hawkins, but he could do it. Vecna had started his true training after a particularly long night, Eddie’s body warm and loose as the animal under his hands stopped moving.

He had tossed his long hair over his shoulder as he looked up, expecting to see his master watching him in approval, and had found Steve Harrington standing there instead. “Steve,” Eddie had rasped out, his jaw immediately going slack. He hurriedly wiped his chin, smearing the stray drops of crimson over his pale skin, as he jumped to his feet, eager to separate himself from the scene of gore he had left on the floorboards. Steve stood there, looking at Eddie with the same half-skeptical look in his eyes that Eddie had already learned to associate with him, his skin bright against the dark denim of his jeans and Eddie’s Dio vest.

Eddie reached out to take Steve’s shoulders in his hands, wanting desperately to wrap his arms around Harrington’s broad shoulders, pull him close to him, feel his pulse under his body to affirm that Steve was alive even if Eddie wasn’t–and was left standing, arms open, as Steve stepped back. Steve’s hands came up to his chest, motioning Eddie away. “What the fuck, Munson?” Steve asked. His wide eyes narrowed, slitting into tight almond shapes as he grimaced. “Did you just…eat that thing?” Eddie glanced down to the cooling animal corpse on the floor then back to Steve. “I–I can explain, Steve, but we should–” “No.” Eddie’s head recoiled in shock.

“I don’t want you to explain it to me, Eddie,” Steve said, running one of his hands through his hair, making it stand on end briefly before he swooped it over to the side. Eddie watched Steve’s fingers, watched the muscles in his shoulder move, watched his chest expand as he breathed; watching Steve, after thinking for so long that he’d never see him again, made a fire burn under Eddie’s skin like a duller version of the change he had experienced. “What…what do you mean?” Eddie whispered, eyes on Steve’s face. Steve shook his head.

“I don’t want you to explain what you are to me, Munson. You’re a fucking freak.” Steve stepped back, his face alight with revulsion as Eddie stopped breathing. The disgust in Steve’s eyes was the exact look Eddie had feared, had made him keep so much to himself while he was in Hawkins. “I’m not like you,” Steve hissed at him, and Eddie felt a different type of burning in his throat, the burning of a sob aching to be set free, a sensation he had been familiar with when he was alive.

“Kill him,” Vecna’s voice rasped. Eddie’s jaw dropped, suddenly remembering where they were. “Steve!” Eddie yelled, immediately disregarding Steve’s apparent revulsion. “You have to run!” With Eddie’s words still echoing in the air, Steve disappeared and Eddie froze. It was just Vecna and Eddie, still in the attic of the Creel house. “Weak,” Vecna had said, and Eddie had felt himself burn with shame. “Too weak, still. My bravest soldier will need to be stronger. Or he will watch his friends die.”

The next day, as Eddie prepared to swing his sword through Jason Carver’s throat, he watched him shift into Gareth. Eddie’s hand faltered, his eyes roaming over the image of Gareth in a Corroded Coffin shirt, smiling at Eddie like he was thrilled to see him. Eddie’s sword hand fell beside him, his jaw slack as his eyes widened. “Gareth?” Gareth smiled at him, his curly hair flopping as he shook his head. “It’s me, Eddie,” Gareth said.

Suddenly, his puppy dog smile slipped off his face, replaced by a look of scorn. “Not that it should matter to a freak like you.” “What?” “You’re a freak, Munson. A real freak. None of us even like you, you know. We used to be scared of you, but we’re not anymore. We know what you are now, Eddie, and none of us are scared of you anymore.” Gareth grinned again, but this time it was filled with malice. Eddie’s hand shook, his sword suddenly too heavy.

“You’re exactly what everyone ever called you, Eddie: a freak, a loser, a burnout…” Gareth took a deep inhale, and when his voice came out it was the voice of Eddie’s father. “A waste of space.” Eddie gasped, anger burning through his veins as his sword rose in his hands. His arms moved without thought, carving a jagged line across Gareth’s torso as he screamed. When he disappeared, a demogorgon laying dead in his place, Eddie blinked away the tears that had flooded his eyes.

His training continued like this for hours, for days, for what could have been years as far as Eddie was concerned. Vecna pulled images of all of Eddie’s friends, of Chrissy Cunningham telling him how much better Jason was than him, of Dustin telling him he would never willingly spend time with someone like him, of his Uncle Wayne telling him he was a disappointment and just like his father. Eventually, Eddie’s sword didn’t falter against them.

He became used to the image of Chrissy with his sword through her abdomen, Dustin’s body falling to its knees as his head hit the ground seconds before the rest of him, of his Uncle Wayne screaming as he sliced through his thin skin. Even though he thought he had proved himself, really proved himself, as loyal to Vecna, Eddie stayed on his guard always–any sound, any creature, anything other than himself and his master couldn’t be trusted.

The first time he faced a demogorgon that looked like Steve, he struck before it had the chance to speak. He had already heard what Vecna’s version of Steve had to say to him; he didn’t need to relive it, didn’t need to add it to the voices of Wayne and Dustin and Chrissy and Gareth in Eddie’s head. The next demogorgon was Steve, too. Eddie waited, prepared for him to hurl insults and names and acid at him, to wash over whatever was left of his heart and eat away at the last shred of humanity Eddie had buried inside his chest. Instead, Steve held out his arms.

Eddie straightened out of his slight crouch, his sword coming down slightly. “Munson!” Steve crowed. “You’re alive!” “I’m not,” Eddie hissed, shocked at how animalistic his voice sounded compared to Steve’s. Steve cocked his head to the side, confusion in his warm eyes as he smiled slightly and his arms dropped. “But you’re here. You came back to me.” Eddie felt that tiny shred of his heart in his chest hammer, pounding against his ribs feebly. “You came back to me, Munson, and I came back to you. You saved me, by the way, when you went back against those bats–I’m, uh,” Steve ran a hand up the back of his neck, the other finding it’s usual place on his narrow hip, and his honey and almond colored hair ruffled under his wide palm as he looked at his feet. A blush snaked over his cheeks, and Eddie watched the blood color his skin, his fingers twitching with the need to trace over it, feel the heat under his fingers that proved that Steve was there, was alive. “I’m alive because of you, Munson–Eddie. You saved me.” He looked up at Eddie, gazing warmly into his eyes as they watered. “You’re a hero, Eddie.”

Eddie couldn’t stop himself. A sob broke through his clenched jaw, hot tears finally slipping down his cheeks as his chest heaved. “I just wanted to save you, Steve,” he choked out, and Steve raised his arms to him again–only to have them separated from his body. Steve screamed, dropping to his knees, as Eddie raised his blade again, tears flowing freely now, and drove his sword through Steve’s chest, praying that cutting through Steve’s heart would make his own stop aching.

When the demogorgon fell back, a pool of black blood forming under its corpse, Eddie turned to Vecna. “Better,” his voice called. “But you’ll need to be stronger.” Eddie took a deep breath, preparing himself to see Steve again as he turned.

#stranger things #eddie munson #my fic #feral fics #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #steve harrington #stranger thing fan fiction #stranger things fanfic #eddie fics #eddie munson fics #steve fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fics #steve harrington fan fiction

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yabakuboi · 1 month

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Steve watched Eddie's van turn the corner and shut the front door, closing himself away from the outside world so none of his neighbors could see him as he rested his forehead against the painted wood.

"I'm not going to cry," he told himself.

He said it even as his eyes began to burn and his face began to twist, teeth grinding and throat closing. He wiped quickly at his face, again and again, as he stumbled to the couch to sit, drying each tear as it rolled down his cheeks, clinging to his jaw.

"I'm not going to fucking cry," Steve choked, and then doubled over into himself, arms around his thighs, and he began to sob.

So what if he was twenty-two, living in his parent's house alone, working the same dead-end job with a sixteen year old manager. So what if all his friends and family were in college, spread out from New York to Chicago to Los Angeles. So what if his boyfriend was moving to Seattle for his band and they broke up, because Steve was never going to be his parents, resenting and being resented for keeping his partner from his dreams. So what if he was too scared to ask Eddie to stay, to ask Eddie if Steve could go with him. So what if everyone moved on and Steve couldn't?

Steve grew up lonely. He could get used to it again.

He didn't realize how hard he was crying until the front door burst back open and Eddie hurled himself at Steve's feet, long limbed and clumsy and babbling.

"Baby, oh fuck, I'm sorry," he said, already untangling Steve from himself, tying all his loose ends back up together with his until they were a knot of their own. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Stevie. I never should have— I wanted to—"

"I'm sorry," Steve sobbed back. He gasped and swallowed it all back down. Eddie had already gotten them raveled up again, it would take forever to pick it back apart. Steve knew it would hurt worse this time. "Fuck, Ed, you didn't have to— I'll be okay, I don't want to hold you back—"

"Come with me," Eddie burst.

And Steve couldn't help himself, and began to sob again.

"Please," Eddie begged over Steve's crying, his voice shaking and his face wet enough to match Steve's. "Please, sweetheart, honey, please just come with me?"

Steve took a shaky breath, embarrassed and now too full of hope and fear. "You sure?" he whispered. He pressed his face into Eddie's neck, breathing him in again for what might be the last time, again. "Eddie, don't—"

"I'm so sure," Eddie said. "I'm so fucking sure, Steve, please."

"Okay," Steve breathed. Eddie had always been the braver of the two of them, especially when it counted. Steve leaned back so he could look at him, red faced and watery eyes. He tried to give Eddie a smile, but he knew it was wobbly and weak. "Okay."

All of Steve's fears meant nothing as he watched the happiness break like dawn over Eddie's face.

#steddie #my fic #shush mal #something something once again about eddie being the bravest when it comes to love something something #anyways they pack steve's shit that night and leave early the next morning to make up for eddie's lost time to get to wherever he's going #and they live happily ever after amen #my steddies

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msgexymunson · 5 months

Text

Soft Touches

Description: you and your dealer Eddie get a little closer than anticipated.

Warnings: acquaintances to lovers, reader is AFAB, weed smoking (both parties so no real dub con), fem oral receiving, praise kink, p in v unprotected sex.

A/N: It's my birthday! And I'm high, and horny, so happy birthday! If you've read my work you KNOW I'm a sucker for the first time y/n fucks Eddie. When I'm a benevolent dictator it shall be a universal holiday ;)

4k words

Masterlist

“Eddie, what the hell was in that?”

Floating in a cloud of your high, the entire room seemed to glow in pink and orange, senses tinged in a sunset glow. You were definitely stoned out of your tree if you were comparing Eddie's stuffy, cramped room to a breath-taking sunset.

“It's a new strain I got from Rick. You feeling it?”

“Oh, I'm feeling it alright. I can hear colours.”

Eddie's rich laugh echoed off the walls of his trailer. He laid on the bed casually, one arm slung beneath his head making his tight t-shirt ride up slightly. Just a peek of his happy trail was on display, which you tried, and failed, not to stare at.

It was proving difficult, especially since you sat criss-cross apple sauce on his floor. His body was eye level, handcuff belt shining softly in the low light. The glint of that drew your eyes even lower, concentrating on the bulge you could see in his jeans.

You thought you were being sneaky. You absolutely were not.

“Hey, sweetheart, you gonna answer me or just stare at my dick?”

“Huh?”

Shaking your head as if to clear it, you finally met his gaze.

“I said, you can come lay up here if you want.”

Halfway between getting up and still in a weird little crouch his words finally filtered through your addled brain.

“I wasn't staring at your dick!”

“Whatever you say, baby girl.”

Frozen, mind empty of comebacks, you clambered out of your goblin stance and stood up, when the blood decided to rush to your head.

“Oh Holy shit.”

Your knees buckled, and you would have ended up face first on Eddie's carpet if he hadn't caught you.

“Easy there, I've got you.”

Eddie's firm hands held your upper arms tightly as he manoeuvred you to sit on his bed. The room was spinning, everything was drifting out of focus.

“I need to lie down.”

Eddie pulled you towards his pillows and laid you down gently, picking your legs up and settling them on the bed with you. Staring up at his off white ceiling, things began to drift back in. Once the room finally stopped swooping around in your vision, you started to come to your senses.

You are on Eddie Munson's bed. You knew him, sure, only in a ‘can I come round so you can smoke us out and listen to music’ kind of way. You'd hardly call him a friend. This though, feeling the heat of his body next to you, him leaning on his side staring at you worriedly seemed entirely outside of your current arrangement.

Suddenly the air was stifling, Eddie's warmth only exacerbating the matter.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just really warm. And fucking high.”

Eddie laughed, relieved.

“Thank fuck, I was scared for a minute.”

You fumbled at the hem of your oversized sweater, attempting to wriggle it up your body but all motor skills were beyond you right now.

“Eddie.” You pouted at him, flapping the edge of your sweater with frustrated hands.

“You want this off?”

“Please.”

He flashed you a mischievous grin and pulled up upright, beginning to draw the offensive sweater up and over your form.

“Didn't think you'd be begging me to undress you sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes in response, you held your arms over your head like a petulant toddler. Sweater removed and tossed to the foot of the bed, you risked a glance at Eddie. He was entirely preoccupied, staring at your bare midriff that was now on display.

“It's a crop top Eddie, get over it.”

Flinging yourself back down on the pillow, Eddie coughed, looking a little flustered, and settled in next to you.

“Sorry, I didn't expect it. You always wear baggy shit.”

“Comfortable shit, thank you. I come here to smoke, it's not New York fashion week.”

Eddie ran a finger across you, just below your belly button. The barely there touch blazed across your skin.

“I didn't know you had your belly button pierced.”

Looking down, you watch as his fingers circle it, then flick the little jewel dangling off the end. Thighs clamping together out of sheer necessity, you attempt to ignore it.

“Yeah, got it done when I was like 15, two towns over. Probably my least painful piercing. Apart from ears, of course.”

Apparently, Rick's new strain also makes you run your mouth, as well as being insanely warm and horny. It seemed you had captured Eddie's attention. He turned further towards you, one hand holding his head up. The other, much to your relief, stayed on your stomach. You're not sure he was even aware he was still stroking your skin.

“Least painful? What other piercings do you have?”

You seriously considered dodging the question, but it's difficult to be devious directly to those big wet eyes of his. It's like trying to lie to a baby cow.

“Well, I got my nose done, but the piercing fell out and I didn't bother to get a new one. That one stung. But the worst had to be my… my nipples.”

The whole bed lurched as Eddie jumped up and sat cross legged facing you. He practically flew into action, grabbing his cigarettes and a lighter as if you were about to tell him some epic tale.

“Right, tell me everything.”

Whilst laughing at his wide eyed expression, you realise he's being completely serious.

“Well, they er, they like, sanitise the… area, draw a dot where they're going to pierce you and tell you to take a deep breath in and it's done. It's super quick actually. It's more the after part that hurts. Why are you interested?”

Eddie pushes his hair behind one ear, the tip of it is glowing scarlet, you notice.

“I was thinking about getting it done my last birthday but I didn't have the cash.”

He's staring at you, nervously chewing on a hang nail. You can practically see the unasked question dancing on his tongue. You weren't going to offer, hell no. If he wants to see he has to ask. The thing is, the way your tummy is bubbling right now, you don't think you could say no to those eyes of his.

The question remains unsaid. He merely offers you a drag on his cigarette which you take gratefully, before he's stubbing it out and laying back down next to you.

“How you feeling now? Bit less baked?”

“Oh I'm still fucked, but I can see straight and I don't feel sick.”

His fingers begin their dance again, skating over your exposed flesh, stroking down your side to your hip, across your stomach, and back again. You want to mention it. He's never touched you like this before, but you also don't want him to stop.

“Good. Not inviting you over again if you hurl on my bed.”

Giggling, you turn and face him. You're both on your sides now, knees close to knocking. His shirts ridden up again and before you can even register what you're doing you've placed a delicate hand on his hip. His eyes widened briefly, but that's it. Both of you are touching the others bare flesh, whispers of touches. Little, tentative things, like the bursting of soap bubbles on skin.

“I wouldn't hurl on your bed. I'm sure I'd at least make it to the bathroom. I'm not an animal.”

Eddie just grins in response, and you look at each other, really look. His dopey smile is the same as yours, and it seems neither of you want to mention how this seems to be rolling into very unfamiliar territory.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you touching me?”

He pushes infinitesimally closer, his knee now slotting between yours. It's a small gesture, but suddenly the situation feels even more intimate than before.

“Because. Because it feels good. You're soft, and warm. And you keep making little noises.”

“I do?”

He smooths his hand higher, thumb dragging along the underside of your breast, and you let out a tiny, quivering whimper.

“See? Like that.”

Opening your legs slightly wider, Eddie's knee pushes naturally further forward, his thigh now wedged between yours. His breath is fanning your nose; cigarettes, weed, and sweet snacks.

“So sweetheart, why are you touching me?”

Your hand presses a little more firmly, snaking underneath the hem of his shirt. With no complaint forthcoming, you reach further up, stroking his side, up over his ribs, and back down again. He responds in kind. Every kiss of fingers is electrifying, filling the room with a soft, dense tension.

“Because it feels good. Because I saw a bit of skin and I couldn't resist.”

“Yeah?” He's smirking as he says it, but you're beyond playing games at this point.

“Yeah.”

“I didn't know I was irresistible.”

You pinch his skin a little and he stares at you like you just betrayed him.

“I didn't say that, you're twisting my words.”

“Pretty sure I heard-”

Cutting him off with a tickle to the ribs, he grabs your hand to stop you.

“OK, OK! You were right, I was wrong. Nice touches again please.”

His hand swiftly makes its way back to your skin and you continue to stroke him.

“Nice touches?”

“Yeah, it feels really good.”

Running your hand up, you graze his nipple, and then bring it back down, down, until you reach the top of his jeans. You graze a finger, just one, under them, sweeping across his tensing abs. Then, you move up to more innocent flesh.

“Jesus Christ.”

Eddie's chest is heaving, fingers pressing indents into your flesh.

“Nice enough?” you're the one smirking this time, pleased at the effect you're having on him.

“Yeah.”

It's barely a word, more of a breath. You scoot closer toward him, just a couple of inches, but it's close enough to feel his thigh start to press against your heat. Gasping at the pressure, you rub subtly against his thigh to try and relieve your mounting feelings, no matter how slightly.

Eddie's hand starts making a trembling journey up your form, fingers twisting underneath your top. Feeling the underside of your bare breast, you both gasp. Eddie undoubtedly because you weren't wearing a bra, you because, well, the obvious. The slightest graze had your nipple hardening instantly, hips rocking forward without your control.

“Is this OK?”

“Yeah. Please.”

Fingers stretching further, Eddie finally brushes your nipple. The feeling is magnified by your piercing; they've felt more sensitive since you got them done.

The moan that escapes is louder than you meant but it couldn't be helped. This simple touch is igniting through your nerves and rushing to your high brain.

“Shit, they are pierced.”

It seems to be a thought that Eddie said out loud by accident as he rubs his fingers over your ruddy nipple, slowly circling the silver balls of the jewellery.

Another moan breaks from you, even louder this time.

“Fuuuuck Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

His touches become firmer, rubbing your nipple between thumb and forefinger, mapping the way your face scrunches up with his eyes.

“Yeah, jeez. They're really sensitive.”

Practically panting in each other's mouths, your noses rub together.

“Can- can I kiss you?”

His words are so hesitant that it makes you giggle. Pressing your lips in a swift kiss to his full bottom lip, you respond.

“I'd be mad if you didn't.”

Eddie wastes no more time, pressing a hot open mouthed kiss to you that you reciprocate in kind. You keep it slow, leisurely traversing new territory with soft, exploring tongues. Naturally your arms encircle him, pulling him closer, closer. His arm snakes around your back as your bodies press together, like puzzle pieces slotting together and finding their perfect match. Eventually you break away to take a gasping breath as Eddie presses kisses to your collarbone.

“I don't know why we waited so long to do that.”

“We? I thought you just wanted me for free drugs!”

You giggled loudly at that, so loud it came out as a snort, but it didn't matter. The moment was so honest that being cool had nothing to do with it. You were bare, in a way, and so was he.

Eddie chuckled with you as he slowly but surely pushed you onto your back, slipping both of his legs between yours. Pushing your hips up, you feel his hardness graze your pubic bone.

“Eddie?”

He hums a response, lips and tongue busy loving on your neck. You tug at the hem of your top and pull upwards. Eddie gets the message, moving out of the way briefly so you can strip it off.

There you are, bare chested in front of him. You'd be nervous, if you hadn't seen the longing in his eyes. He's kneeling, one arm leaning on the mattress whilst the other compulsively strokes your side.

“Jesus Christ your tits are perfect.”

The moment stretches just a little too long for comfort; you're a hair's breadth away from crossing your arms over your chest when Eddie leans down and runs his tongue around and around one nipple. Mewling pathetically, you lace your fingers in Eddie's soft waves and tug. In response his teeth graze you as he sucks softly; then he gives the other just as much attention.

Shuddering and wriggling under him, you can't do anything but whine, your hips undulating upwards to chase some friction, some release, anything.

“Eddie, please, I need you.”

“Umph,” He responds, muffled by your chest, “I need you to say that again.”

“Eddie I swear to God if you don't- ”

He laughs, cutting off your sentence.

“Alright baby girl, I got you.”

Working his way down your front, he takes his time planting soft kisses, making you writhe at each touch of his lips, until he reaches your shorts.

Flicking the button open, he slowly drags the zip down and finds the little sliver of red panties poking out.

“Hearts? Cute.”

Thick fingers plunge into your clothes and pull them away, flinging your shorts and panties across the room into the void that was Eddie's carpet.

Insecurity finally gripped its claws into you. What if he didn't like what you looked like down there, smelled like, tasted like?

A moment of unadulterated panic, and then Eddie licked his tongue, slowly yet firmly, between your lips and all the way up. Barging your thighs further apart with his shoulders, he rooted your clit out with his tongue, running dizzying circles and sucking at it desperately.

Eddie's moans rivalled your own, such neediness etched in you swear his fingerprints will be left on the outside of your thighs like tattoos, simply from the force he held you with. Barely able to shake, you compensated by pulling his hair and guiding his tongue exactly where you needed it.

He pushed a thick calloused finger into you slowly, looking up at you as he did so. You back arched off the bed. He felt around, staring at you with such intensity you that you were seconds away from telling him to quit staring when-

“Oh God, oh fuck!”

Eddie smirked, sliding another finger in gently to join the first, and worked your clit between his lips. He incessantly stroked a spot inside that you'd never reach on your own, a firm, beckoning gesture as if he were willing your orgasm to come hither.

It was working. Your insides tingle, a tightness pulling straight from your gut and shooting out to your fingers and toes. Beyond control by this point, your hand pulls his hair tightly. To your amazement, his other hand reaches out to you, seeking, and you lace your fingers in his own.

As soon as your digits touched, you were gone. Your release plummets out of you, shaking through every bone you have, leaving you a twitching puddle of a woman. His fingers chase after it, dragging every inch of squelching pleasure out of your insides until you're tugging him away and begging for it to stop.

As he moved back up your body, licking and sucking as he did so, you tried to think of an answer to the smug grin he was just about to flash at you.

There was none. Brain unravelled, threads wound into your nerves instead of your thoughts, you laid there, ruminating on how he'd made you come faster than any other man.

Eddie hovered over you, nose nudging your own. He must have wiped his mouth at some point whilst you were in la la land.

“Hey pretty girl.”

“Eddie, you're really fuckin’ good at that.”

“I know.”

You laugh, tapping his side.

“Cocky.”

“Confident.”

Before you can retort his mouth is back on you, peppering kisses to your jaw, as his solid member presses into your naked heat.

“Fuck Eddie, please, please please-”

“Please what baby girl?” He asks, then sucks a hickey on your neck.

Pulling him towards you by his shirt collar, you bite down sharply on his earlobe, pulling a little groan from his chest.

“I want you to stuff me full Eddie. I'm- I'm on birth control. Fill me up.”

You can practically feel Eddie's eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fuck, you can't just say that, I nearly busted in my pants!”

Pulling himself off you for the shortest time he could, he peels his t-shirt over his head and flops back on top of you. Desperate kisses and urgent gropes spill from you both; grinding, needy things that tore at clothes and grasped at flesh.

After fiddling and failing with his belt, you huff and tug harshly at his waistband. He chuckles, biting at your bottom lip as he unlatches it with ease and then wriggles his pants and boxers down his legs with urgency.

More desperate grasps, teeth and tongues clashing violently, your hand reaching down to clutch at his-

“Holy hell!”

His eyes widen, hands coming to a halt, waiting for the rest of your sentence. You're too busy trying to glance down his front as he hovers over you, your fist firmly stroking his hardened cock.

“You're huge Eddie!”

He smirks and thrusts into your hand, the velvet smoothness of his dick massaged by your palm.

“Bet you say that to all the guys.”

“Er, no, Rick's made some truth serum or some shit because that's the biggest I've ever felt.”

You guide him firmly towards your entrance, dragging the tip of his enlarged cock through your slickened folds. He quivers over you, arms thick with tension.

“Baby girl just, just slip it inside, please-”

“Now who's begging?”

Grinning mischievously, you wait for him to start forming an answer with his mouth when you slip the head inside your sopping opening. His open mouth turns into a long drawn out moan.

You would tease him if the feeling of him splitting you open wasn't all consuming. Which it fucking is. He just keeps pushing, and pushing, until his chest is flush with yours and he's mumbling platitudes in your ear.

“Doing so good for me. Such a naughty, naughty girl. Getting filled up by her drug dealer? Baby girls a little dirty, isn't she?”

You're trying not to let him know how much his words affect you, but the fluttering of your satin like walls tells a different story.

“You're not my dealer.”

“Oh really? I'm not?”

Pulling out nearly all the way and pushing back in, you bite your lip at the drag against your insides.

“Dealer implies I buy shit. You just give it to me, like a little simp.”

Eddie's mouth drops open in mock outrage.

“You want me to give it to you now? I'll fucking give it to you baby.”

Hooking an arm under your thigh, Eddie thrusts into you hard and devastatingly deep. And again, and again, until you start moaning wantonly right in his face, all bravado forgotten.

“Yeah? Atta girl. That good baby? Wanna feel me right here?”

His other hand pushes against your lower stomach, the pressure deepening the pleasure he's giving you tenfold.

“Oh Eddie, oh fuckfuckfuck!!”

Your release explodes out of your cunt with a gush, liquid spurting out of you so hard you nearly force his impressive length out. It waves drastically, like the sea against the shore, washing and washing over you until it's hard to breathe.

“Baby, baby! Holy shit, I think you squirted.”

“Ya think? My God, that was… mind blowing.”

“Yeah?”

Looking up at him, you expect that arrogant grin, but he just looks pleased and innocent. Like a kid at Christmas.

“Yeah, fuck yeah.”

Rolling him over with all the power left in your thighs, you pin him down and move firmly into him, ferality taking over your actions.

“Jesus Christ, you are a dirty girl, aren't you?”

“Maybe just a little.”

Smirking, you hump against him, your swollen clit bumping against his pubic bone on each delicious pass.

“Holy shit, I'm not complaining- fuck, what the- what are you doing? Jesus Christ!”

You bounce hard on him. Seeing him writhe under you is a special kind of power, one you aren't willing to let go of. Ever.

“Fuck, b-baby girl, you're gonna make me come!”

His intense moans spur you on further. Unable to bounce so much on shaky knees you snuggle down close to him, arms clutching his shoulders, as you grind into him. It's massaging sensations into your clit, as well as teasing your g spot with his imposing length.

“I can't, I’m- baby girl-”

“I'm gonna come, Eddie please, fill me up, I wanna feel it, I wanna feel your cum inside me, please, fuckin’ breed me Eddie. Oh fuck!”

Quivering against him uncontrollably, your legs give out, collapsing on his body as he tenses and releases inside of you. It spurs your own orgasm, snaking up your spine and gripping on your system like a fly caught in honey. An open mouthed scream is all you give him, silent but chock full of feeling, as your back arches in its own tension.

As it curls out of you, your back gives up, and you flop forward, bones turned to pudding.

“Well.” is all that comes out, a puff of a word, just air escaping from a collapsing chest.

“Well.” Eddie responds, waiting for what you're about to say.

You're sure he doesn't expect it. A laugh bubbles out; a weird, inside laugh, that you probably should never share with anyone. But it keeps coming. And coming. Laughing uncontrollably, you roll off of him and try to get your stomach muscles in check.

You'd be worried about his reaction, if he wasn't laughing with you. It was this odd mixture of tension and relief that was bursting in the air, a barrier broken and left crumbling at your feet.

“Eddie. Fuck, Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

‘Yeah.”

His heated hand found yours, and squeezed your fingers hard. For some reason, it felt more intimate than all of this combined.

Giggling again, you lean into his chest, fingers dipping up to weave into his hair.

“Baby girl, you can't just-”

“What? Pull your hair? Because you like it?”

Tugging on his hair dramatically, Eddie tosses his head back and groans.

“Knew it.”

“Yeah, yeah, certified genius. It's like you don't wanna be railed again.”

Huffing, you pull yourself on top of him again, hardened nipples brushing softly against his flesh.

“Oh, I think I'll be the one railing you. You wanna make a bet, for next time?”

Smug grin forgotten, Eddie stares at you in disbelief.

“Next time?”

“Well, I hope so. Got to be the best I've ever had.”

Stupid Rick and his stupid strain.

“Best you've ever had?”

“Fuck you.”

“Only if you wanna.”

The teasing stopped. At least for now. It was pretty clear, your need for each other was outranking any goading you'd been sharing.

At least for now…

Taglist (Some permanents, some likely candidates, if you want to be added, jus say the word sweetheart)

@eddiesprincess86 @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @roanniom @usedtobecooler @josephquinnsfreckles @mrsjellymunson

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