#eddie munson has a small dick
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Saw this meme and iiiiii did a thing... a steddie thing... obviously
( Eddie has a small dick in this if you don't like it don't read it. We support small dick supremacy in this house thank you for your time. 😊 )
😅😅😅
I'm picturing them at a bar. I wanna say maybe Steve is the bar tender, and he's been seeing Eddie around. He comes in. Talks a little, he's kinda quiet. Like he's stuck in his head, like he comes there to think. He's always scribbling things on napkins. Steve thinks they might be song lyrics, the way Eddie hums and taps his fingers as he writes.
But Steve obviously sees him looking at him sometimes. It's a gay bar, it happens, but Eddie doesn't leer at him, or chat him up in that way. It's always just friendly conversation.
Steve kind of loves it. Loves being able to just chat and not worry about getting stalked out to his car by a creep. And then one day some drunk dude is hitting on Eddie HARD. Leaning into him and grabbing at his arm and just when Steve is about to say something the guy actually says the words,
"how big is that dick?" Like... in real life. Out loud. And grabs for Eddie's thigh, and Steve watches Eddie catch his wrist, easy, watches him shove the guys hand back at him, saying,
"small. Leave me alone." Without even looking at him. And Steve fucking barks a laugh because that was... fucking hilarious. But also... kinda hot. Like, he's known he likes Eddie for awhile but seeing someone come on to him had sealed the deal, jealousy crawling over his skin, but then seeing Eddie shut it down, in the funniest fucking way Steve had ever seen, had just slammed it into place.
The guy scowls, says something rude, and stalks off. But Eddie is looking at Steve cuz he's still chuckling. Doing that cough thing like he's trying to cover it up but the laugh is still extremely prominent through the coughing. And Eddie watches him with raised eyebrows cuz like... damn okay. Cute bar tender thinks he's funny. And Steve is like,
"Sorry man. That was just, fuckin hilarious. Not the guy grabbing you, obviously, just, how you delt with it. Like that was... the best thing I've seen in awhile. Just... just sayin." He shakes his head to stop himself rambling more, he needs more friends to hangout with besides Robin, she's rubbing off on him. So he just reaches into the cooler and grabs Eddie his usual beer, slides it over the bartop to him, tells him it's on the house.
"Thanks." Is all Eddie says, but he looks happy, small smile still on his face.
And when the bar's closing, and Eddie is still there, just idly talking to Steve all night. Steve takes a chance. Says some cheesey line about letting Eddie walk him home. And Eddie flushes red to his ears but nods, takes the last sip of his beer and helps Steve flip the chairs onto the tables so he can do a quick sweep. Steve's locking the door when he hears Eddie clear his throat awkwardly, like he wants to say something. Steve looks at him, waits.
"I uh... look I know you thought I was being funny... earlier." Eddie scratches his head, nods into the bar. Steve nods, lets him continue.
"But I uh- I was also being serious?" He grimaces, eyes on the ground.
"So if that's like... a deal breaker? That's- that's totally okay. I just uh... I dont know. Thought I should maybe warn you before- before anything...happens?" His eyes widen and he takes a step back.
"Not that anything was gonna happen! Like I wasn't expecting... THAT. I just... oh my god I don't know. People can be assholes about small dicks so I just wanted to be up-front about it in case you thought I was kidding when I told that guy that. Cuz I was being serious and I'm gonna stop talking. Jesus christ." He breathes the last part, shaking his head at himself, his face twisted in what looks like pain. Steve thinks he's fucking adorable.
He steps closer, puts his hands on Eddie's hips and pushes him gently against the brickwall of the bar. Rests his head against Eddie's as he laughs a little, Steve's fingers pressing into his hips tickling a bit.
"I don't care. Honestly I uh..." he pauses, pulls back to look at Eddie, his eyes are wide, his cheeks are a deep pink now.
"I was kinda hopin you weren't kidding." Steve tilts his head, smirks at Eddie, just a little. A light smirk. Not the full thing, doesn't wanna overwhelme him. Yet. Eddie sucks in air, blinks at him.
"Oh. Yeah?" He asks, his voice breathy, pitched higher than usual. Steve nods, sinks his teeth into his lip, and brushes his nose against Eddie's.
"Yeah. Still wanna walk me home?" Steve asks, staying close. Eddie nods, his hands moving to Steve's shoulders.
"Yeah. Yes absolutely. I'd love that. I'd love too." He rambles, swallowing hard.
And Steve can't help himself anymore, ducks forward and presses a soft kiss to his lips. Eddie makes a little sound in his throat and Steve fucking adores it. Already in so deep for this guy. But it's been months. Eddie's not a new thing in his life. Just, this part of it is new.
Eddie blinks at him when he pulls back, steps away from Eddie but holds out his hand. Eddie smiles, reaches out and takes it, lets Steve drag him away from the wall and down the sidewalk. Their fingers laced together, hands swaying between them as they walk through the dark.
#steddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve x eddie#eddie munson has a small dick#and steve fucking loves it i cant hear you over their love#my writing#mine#Fates Endless Inkwell#fei#steddie blurb#steddie ficlet
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The Girlfriend Experience
Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: Eddie doesn’t think he’s cut out for dating. Self-resigned to a life of one and done hookups, you’re determined to make him see that he has the capacity to be a worthy companion… for when the right girl comes around. Fake Dating AU, classic corny fic for a fav corny troupe, Stranger Things canon divergent ofc, 18+ smut (see warnings below), big dick energy but also slightly emotionally unavailable!Eddie, yada yada yada, you know the drill.
Content warnings: AFAB reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol, smoking the devil’s lettuce, mention of panty stealing, food consumption, semi-public sex, fingering, PIV, Dom-ish!Eddie, oral (m and f receiving), pierced dick Eddie because I said so!, unprotected PIV sex, hair pulling, mild angst but nothing too angsty just like one heated conversation and Eddie feeling a little worthless but happy ending I promise
Word Count: 20k ahhhhhh!!!
A/N: Thanks to all those who comment and reblog! Your feedback and engagement makes my heart soar and keeps me motivated to write this filth! Sorry for the gargantuan length, in very-me fashion I always ending up writing one behemoth fic every so often rather than just separating it out into chapters. Also, realizing after the fact that I use the brand name ‘Goodwill’ a lot in this fic, which maybe not everyone might know is a thrift store, not sure if that’s just an American thing or not but figured it was worth noting.
“I guess I’m just not boyfriend material, ya know?” Eddie shrugs.
“Don’t say that, Eds,” your eyebrows pinched together, “different qualities are important to different people. Not everyone is looking to date a Steve, or a Brian, or a whoever. I’m sure someone is out there looking for an Eddie.”
“It’s not that,” he shot a look towards Steve, who, despite your analogy, was unfortunately everyone’s type and the textbook definition of boyfriend material.
“I just don’t think I’d be very good at gooey romance stuff, or even like, passable boyfriend behavior. I mean, look at me, I hardly take care of myself, I’m loud, I have no money, I’m basically every dad’s worst nightmare, do I need to keep going?”
“The nightmare thing can actually be a bonus,” Steve chimes in, “the whole bad boy persona can be a huge draw for most girls.”
“Sure Steve,” Eddie’s voice grows exasperated, “I’m the mysterious bad boy until they realize I’m a huge loser who runs not one but two dungeons and dragons groups. Real fuckin’ attractive I’m sure that is.”
“Shows you’re committed to something…” you trail off when his eyes tell you to stop coming up with a positive spin for every excuse he gives.
This whole discussion had started because of something that happened at the bar last night. A small group of you decided to meet up for drinks, your usual group of pals. It was a Thursday, so the bar wasn’t too busy. Your friends all squished into a booth in the corner, chatting and catching up over a plate of shared nachos, when Robin started making frantic gesture at you and Steve.
“Please just say what you’re trying to say instead of this elaborate charade,” Steve makes a few mocking hand signals back at her.
“Okay, one at a time, and keep it subtle,” her voice lowered to a whisper, for some reason, “over at the bar, some girl is totally flirting with Eddie.”
You and Steve both turn around. “I said not at the same time!” She whisper yells.
There was, in fact, a pretty girl with shiny hair and glossy lips doing a half fake laugh and pressing her manicured hand to Eddie’s bicep. You whip back around to find Robin with her mouth hanging open in a “can you believe this is happening” way.
“Good for him,” Steve swivels back around too, “She’s pretty hot.”
You return to your nachos, pretending there wasn’t a ping of jealousy in you. Eddie was your friend, that had been made abundantly clear.
When Robin introduced you to all her friends from high school, you had easily gotten along with all of them. You especially got along with Eddie. He was funny, authentic, abrasive at times, but a truly good person at his core, creative, protective, you could go on.
After getting to know him a bit, and developing a budding crush, you had made a few passes at him. Nothing too forward, just small compliments here and there, open ended offers to hang out that never lead anywhere.
It’s not like he flat out rejected you, but any feelers you were putting out to see if there was potential there were met with him looking past your flirtatious intent and just being his goofy, friendly self. He treated you exactly the same way he treated everyone else, which was awesome, except for when it wasn’t.
“Oh no,” Robin’s gaze was not subtly fixed on the unfolding scene at the bar, you and Steve watched her face drastically shift from confused, to a cringe, to an eye roll.
Still half whispering, as if Eddie could even hear your corner of the bar, “He’s totally blowing it. DON’T both turn around at the same time again.”
“Okay, so,” she starts before either of you can even confirm that you want to know, “she was totally laying it on thick, like you could see it from all the way back here. And he must have said something off putting, cuz all of a sudden she like went cold on him and pranced away. Shhhhh, okay okay, he’s coming back.”
She was acting as if she wasn’t the only one gossiping. You and Steve were innocent bystanders in all this.
“WHAT was that?” She immediately blurts out when Eddie returns to his seat, fresh drink in hand.
You and Steve share a side glance to sigh at Robin’s inability to be subtle, god bless her. Eddie shifts around awkwardly and lets out a forced dry laugh, taking a long sip from his drink before facing the wrath of a curious Robin.
“Oh, that,” he gestures to the bar as if she could be asking about anything else, “some girl. Not sure.”
“Not sure? Eddie she was FLIRTING with you,” Robin all but yelled, causing Steve to scan the bar to see if the girl in question had landed somewhere within earshot.
“I know that,” he hisses, “She just… wasn’t my type…”
“Okay sure, hot girl in a tube top and no bra isn’t your type, riiiiight,” Steve rolls his eyes.
“It’s just,” Eddie was so over this inquisition, “she asked if I wanted to get coffee.”
You, Steve, and Robin all give him a blank stare, trying to decipher what he could possibly have against getting coffee with a hot girl.
“That’s like,” he gets defensive, detecting the wall of confusion facing him, “something people do on a date. Coffee is serious, and I’m not a very serious guy.”
“What do you mean ‘coffee is serious,’ coffee is like, as casual as you can possibly be?” Steve’s tone now emulated Robin’s from earlier, half whispering, half yelling, all scolding towards his friend.
“That’s just not really my speed. Coffee dates and flowers and hand holding and all that,” he was avoiding eye contact with all three of you, “Yeah, she was hot, sure, and maybe if she had been like ‘hey lets go fool around in the bathroom’ then I wouldn’t be here having this lame ass conversation with you three. But I don’t do coffee dates, so I’m not gonna waste her time and pretend like I’m that sort of guy when I’m just not.”
“Well good on you for not leading her on, cuz I’m sure you could have agreed to the coffee date and still gotten lucky in the bathroom,” Steve mumbles, and you smack the back of his head lightly to scold him.
“So you only date girls who’ll fuck you in a bar bathroom the first time you meet?” You redirect your now equally scolding energy to Eddie.
“No!” He runs his hands through his hair, “I don’t date. Anyone, really. At all. Ever.”
“Oh,” you think for a minute, realizing in your few years of friendship you never had seen him with anyone, or heard him mention a romantic interest of any sort.
Leading you to your present conversation, you and Steve continuing to question Eddie on his decision to reject the hot tube-top girl at the bar and why he felt like coffee was such a scary commitment.
“You guys know me,” he continued to defend his stance, “If I took that girl out for coffee she probably would have picked some fancy hoity toity place and I wouldn’t know what anything on the menu meant, I’d probably spill something or like, get crumbs everywhere, and the bill would be way more than two coffees should be. It would have been a waste of both our time.”
He was staunchly refusing eye contact with the two of you, knowing he’d be met with something along the lines of pity.
“Fine, we’ll drop the subject,” you shoot a look to Steve, “but I just need to make sure you understand that not every girl likes expensive coffee, or flowers and handholding, or whatever your expectation of girls and dating is. There’s plenty of girls who have similar interests to you, who feel the same way about PDA and mushy romance stuff that you do. You do know that, right?”
“Of course I do, y/n,” you could practically feel his eyes rolling at you, “but girls like that sure as fuck aren’t here in Nowhere, Indiana. Even if she was, I’m sure I’d still find a way to fuck it up given that I’ve had exactly zero serious girlfriends and the closest thing to a date I’ve ever been on is when you me and Steve pooled our ski ball tickets to win that ugly stuffed turtle.”
The memory of what you had all agreed to be the world’s ugliest stuffed animal caused all of you to crack a smile. Steve had silently agreed to change the subject, not wanting to dig Eddie any deeper into his pit of self despair.
Steve’s mouth was half open, about to suggest that the three of you have a smoke and watch one of the rental movies he brought over, the words just about to escape him when you harshly cut off any chance at ending the pity-party.
“Date me!” You exclaim, without much thought. The shocked look from both boys caused you to rapidly back pedal , “You can date me, as practice!” You said it as if it was the simplest concept in the world.
When met with gaping mouths and confused stares you continue on, “You and I can be fake boyfriend-girlfriend for like, a month, and I’ll tell you everything you do wrong, and like generic do’s and don’t’s, so that way the next time some hot girl hits on you, you can be all like ‘Coffee isn’t really my thing pretty lady, but I’d be down to get drinks sometime’,” you did a silly impression of Eddie’s voice, and then switched to a high pitched one to impersonate what you assumed the girl at the bar sounded like, “and then she’d be all like, ‘Oh yeah that sounds greaaaaat, getting coffee is just like, a generic catch-all thing that most people say when they want to get to know someone better, but you can buy me a drink’ and then the two of you will ride off into the sunset and it’ll be great.”
Still no reply.
“It won’t be all romantic and gooey, I promise I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. It’d be a way for you to get some honest feedback and catch up with the stuff most people have to learn the hard way.”
“I suppose you are the most brutally honest person I know,” Eddie doesn’t sound convinced.
Steve just looked between the two of you with eyebrows raised, not knowing if giving his opinion on the matter would be appreciated or not. “I guess I would’ve appreciated someone telling me that most girls don’t want to be asked out with a pickup line from a John Hughes movie, would have saved me a few dozen rejections.”
“I’m pretty sure Robin did tell you that…”
“I don’t know y/n,” Eddie scratches his head.
“It’ll be easy. Ask me out.”
“Huh?”
“Ask me out, for practice, ask me out on a date like I’m a pretty girl you met at some metal show or a DnD convention or something like that,” you stand in front of him with your hands out as if to prompt him to say something.
“Will you go out with me?” He sounds more like he’s asking himself if he even wants to be asking the question.
“No.”
“What the hell!” He throws his hands up.
“I said no because that wasn’t a very good effort. Go out where? To do what? You’re asking me, a pretend stranger, out on a date Eddie, not if I want to go have a smoke with you.”
“Ughhhh,” he spun around and tried to get some sympathy for Steve, who unfortunately was on your side with this one.
“A compliment or two doesn’t hurt as well,” Steve added, deepening Eddie’s groan.
“Hey pretty stranger lady,” his voice was laced with sarcasm, but at least it wasn’t disdain, “you seem really…” he hesitated to find his words, “cool? Would you like to come see my band play this weekend at The Hideout? We-“
“No,” you cut him off.
“WHA-“
“Eddie, you can’t ask a girl to watch Corroded Coffin play for your first date with her, that’s like date four or five material, no girl wants to go sit by herself at a bar to watch some guy she just met play an hour of heavy metal. She would have to know you a little bit more for that to feel organic. Pick something more generic, like coffee.”
“I think you seem cool, would you like to get coffee with me?” it all came out as one monotone mumble from him.
“Sure,” you wait for him to lift his head up to make eye contact with you, “But coffee isn’t really my thing, maybe we can go out for drinks?”
“Oh fuck off,” he flopped back onto the couch next to Steve.
“See, now we have our first fake date, and then you can ask me to be your fake girlfriend, and then you’ll be so comfortable with emotional vulnerability that you can find a real girlfriend to take on real dates.”
“Yeah, I suppose it could be beneficial,” Eddie was slowly coming around to the idea. He knew that he was oddly charismatic at times, but he was just always too self conscious to follow through with the whole romance thing.
This maybe wasn’t a bad idea, because he knew you weren’t the kind of person who would make fun of his hobbies, or put him down if he slipped up, the sorts of things he was always afraid of girls doing. Sure, he’ll agree to the girlfriend experience.
After a night of movies and pizza with Steve fake-third-wheeling, you made sure Eddie knew that the fake-date was actually happening, that the two of you would go out for drinks this weekend as your first official practice date.
After giving it a bit of thought, you realized that you and Eddie had never hung out alone. In your feeble attempts at flirting with him all those months ago you had invited him to have movie nights or grab a bite to eat, but he always showed up with Steve and or Robin in tow.
As the night of the fake-date rolled around, you’d be embarrassed to admit it to him, or Steve, who didn’t care to hide how skeptical he was about this whole idea, that you went through your normal pre-date routine. You took some extra time on your hair and makeup, exfoliated in the shower, chose an outfit you felt confident in, added a few spritz of perfume for good measure too.
Eddie rolled up in his van, only a few minutes late, but a few minutes was very impressive compared to his typical chronic tardiness. The two of you agreed to just grab some food and drinks at your usual spot, considering you and Steve openly agreed that it would be a good first date spot in theory.
“Hey,” he reaches across the center console to pop the door open for you, “you look nice.”
It took you a second to register as you settled into the passenger seat, and then whip around with your arm outstretched to give him a high five. He scrunches his face at you.
“High five me Eddie, that was really good! I know you usually open the door for me anyways, but the compliment right away, A+,” you flop your hand down to gently slap his, still gripping the steering wheel.
“Don’t patronize me, y/n,” deep down he knew you weren’t trying to talk down to him, and deep down he hadn’t even given complimenting you a second thought, he really did think you looked great in your date get-up.
On the ride over to the bar, the two of you discuss some logistics. Considering all of this is just practice dating, you don’t expect Eddie to pay for you, but you explain that in theory if he had been the one to ask you out then he should be the one to pay for the first date.
“To me it’s less of a gender thing and more of a who asked out who thing, but I know some people would abide to the stereotypical ‘the man always pays’ standard, which is why you’d just have to be honest on date like two or three about what you enjoy doing and what sorts of things are in your budget. You can still have fun and be thoughtful without spending a lot of money.”
He asked a few questions, like if he should have gotten you flowers for a first date, or what he should do if someone asks to go to a fancy restaurant that he surely couldn’t afford. You tried your best to give solid advice, but always reminded him that every person is different and every relationship is different, so all he can do is be honest.
You take up a spot at the bar and both order for yourselves, splitting some fries and slipping into some easy conversation.
“Am I supposed to, like, beat someone up if a guy tries hitting on you in front of me or something like that?” you nearly choke on your drink at his question.
“Eddie, no,” you answer, also questioning, “why the hell would you ask me that?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “My buddy Jeff was with his girlfriend at this punk show before they were even together, and some guy made a creepy comment to Amanda and Jeff just decked the guy in the face. He say’s that’s what made her want to date him, cuz he defended her honor or whatever.”
“I guess that’s sort of circumstantial, but I prefer my dates to not engage in any sort of violence,” you sip your drink, “even if it’s for my honor. I’d like your face a lot less if you were all bruised up.”
“Well I never said I would get hit,” the two of you were laughing a bit now.
Over a few cocktails you went over some first date etiquette with him. PDA and being touchy, how to follow her lead and gauge if she’s the type who wants everyone at the bar to know you’re together, or keep it strictly platonic to start. How far of a grip on the leg is too far up, that sort of thing.
“So if she does something like this,” you fake laugh a bit too loud and, lean into his personal space, and then run your hand from his slender down his arm, “that doesn’t necessarily mean she wants to fuck you, but it’s pretty close. You’ve at least got a green flag to get a little closer to her, tell her she looks nice, maybe offer to buy her a drink.”
“I know how to tell if someone finds me attractive, y/n, I’m not stupid,” he said casually, “obviously that girl the other night was hitting on me, I’m not blind. I wasn’t going to ask to buy her a drink or try and get lucky in the bathroom because I was out with my friends. I can find a quick fuck in a bar on my own time. I was having fun with you guys, I wasn’t going to abandon all of you to talk to some stranger, even if she was hot.”
“Oh,” you processed his comment, “Steve would be happy to know he ranks above tube-top girl.”
“Steve would be happy to be above tube-top girl in any context,” he jokes.
“You really just find random girls in bars to fuck?” You question, not in any sort of judgmental way, just curious.
“Not specifically, I guess I did make myself sound like some serial bar-bathroom type of guy. I never really had girls interested in me when I was in high school, at least the first four years of it. Then when we started playing regular gigs at The Hideout it was a little easier to find girls who were interested, but it was always that they were more into fucking some guy who could play guitar and was in a band, so it usually just always happened on-site, probably cuz they had an actual boyfriend or husband to go home to. Girls think I’m fun. Which isn’t untrue, I do enjoy a romp in the Hideout bathroom, or the back of my van, or wherever we end up.”
“So that’s what all those blankets are back there for,” you say with a fake scowl, referring to his van set-up.
“Not exclusively! They make a cozy nest for smoking blunts and listening to tapes too!”
You return to your drink, trying not to think too hard about the girls that Eddie brings to bar bathrooms or his van or wherever.
“I just find the energy of those situations very different from like, talking and getting to know someone. Fucking is easy. I’m not interested in ruining that by adding emotions and the looming feeling like sex is contingent on me acting a certain way or checking a certain number of boxes for someone.”
He shrugged, and you could understand where he was coming from, sometimes a quick fuck or hookup could be cathartic and easy. But it also saddened you to think that Eddie believed he had to get in and out before the person on the other end got the chance to know him.
Moving away from the subject of his inability to be emotionally vulnerable, the two of you practice some cheesy ‘first date’ questions as you had called them. As your drinks started to settle into your system you were having more fun being silly with him, pretending to be a stranger on a first date.
“When’s your birthday?” You ask, twirling your drink straw with your finger and making some fake flirty eyes at him to accentuate the facade of asking him a bunch of questions you mostly knew the answers to.
“August 9th,” he flips his hair over his shoulder, joining in on your fake ostentatious flirting.
“Oh my gosh, a Leo! This will never work out, cuz I’m an asparagus…”
The two of you nearly fall out of your bar stools laughing, realizing you meant to say Sagittarius.
“Okay, let’s get you home Asparagus,” he helped you up, having kept his drinking to a minimum so he could drive you home.
“Wait, wait,” you grabbed his arm as the two of you exited the bar, “can we go back to your trailer?”
He raised an eyebrow at you, “that’s a little presumptuous for a first date missy.”
“No, no, this isn’t girlfriend y/n asking, just regular friend y/n, who thinks it would be a lot of fun to smoke and watch a movie without Steve there spewing all his annoying fun facts, like, we get it, you read the little insert inside the tape while you were bored at work!”
Eddie did agree that the idea of packing a bowl and watching a few movies with you didn’t sound too different from what his plans would have been otherwise, so he agreed, as long as you promised not to give him any dating advice while hanging out as friend y/n and not girlfriend y/n.
Although you promised to try your best, you immediately started lecturing him on t-shirt borrowing and the potential weight that could hold in a relationship when he offered to give you some more comfy clothes to change into.
“It’s important to know!” You emerged from the bathroom in one of his oversized shirts and a pair of boxers, “Some girls are very touchy about it. Any shirt you lend her to sleep in, you have to be willing to sacrifice for life.”
“For life?!” Eddie finishes making a bowl of popcorn for the two of you, swallowing his words when he sees you in his clothes, an unidentifiable emotion rising in him at the sight of you so cozy and integrated into his space.
“Well maybe not life,” you plop down onto the couch, “but do NOT ask for it back. Most girls will give it back once it stops smelling like you.”
“If she gets my shirt, can I have her underwear?” He asked without thinking, the weed he had just smoked with you hitting him a bit too hard in that moment.
“Oh my god,” you squeal and bury your face into a pillow, “la la la la, pretending like I didn’t hear that!”
“I’m just saying!” He laughs at you, now curled up into a ball, “fair is fair, right?”
“I guess it depends on the girl,” you mumble.
“So I’m guessing not you, by your reaction.”
“Eddie!” You smack him with a pillow, “I don’t know, no one’s ever asked!”
“If my girlfriend isn’t going to ask before stealing my shirt for an indefinite amount of time, I think that gives me panty privilege.”
“Wow Eddie, if I had known you were such a perv I would’ve reconsidered being your fake girlfriend,” you say sarcastically, with no real judgement behind it. The idea of him wanting to steal your underwear dampens them ever so slightly.
“Don’t worry babe, I won’t do anything pervy to you unless you ask nicely,” he shoots a wink at you, which you meet with an eye roll and a turn away to hopefully hide the heat rising in your cheeks.
The two of you carry out your platonic movie night as planned. You suppressed any urge to note on his actions from a romantic lens, and he ignored the itching desire to sling his arm around your shoulder or pull your legs into his lap to get more comfy on the couch.
“Can I sleep here Eddie,” you ask after movie two, “too sleepy to move.”
“Sure, I can take the couch and you can have my bed. It’s been a minute since I washed the sheets but it shouldn’t be too bad…”
“Nonono,” you mumble, “Your legs will totally hang right off the end of this thing. I’m conked out anyways, I can crash right here I promise.”
“Ignoring that you’re my fake girlfriend, I’m not letting you sleep out here on this lumpy thing. You’re taking the bed, no arguments.”
He helps you up from the couch, letting you keep the blanket that’s wrapped around you, snaking his arm underneath it and pulling you from the couch by your lower back. You were slightly taken aback by his assistance, body still limp from your relaxed state, your torso easily arching into his. Your arms fly up to grab his shoulders, steadying yourself with an awkward giggle.
“In the real world, a time like this would be good for a first kiss,” you make note of your closeness, the way he swept you up off the couch and held you steadily as you made your way to your feet.
“I know that, y/n,” his face was closer to yours than it had ever been, making your words hitch in your throat.
“Well, I’m just saying,” you turn your head to avoid the tension, “I’m sure the way you kiss your bar-hookups isn’t the way most girls who’re looking to date you long term want to be kissed for the first time.”
‘Oh yeah? And how do you presume that goes?” He kept his hand planted on your lower back.
You pretend to act wildly drunk, throwing yourself at him and letting your limbs go a bit heavier than they already were. “Ohmygod guitar man, I’ve had like, six dirty Shirleys, please finger bang me in the bathroom,” you slur your words and let your tongue loll out the side of your mouth as if to lean in for the world’s sloppiest and most uncoordinated kiss.
“First of all,” his voice was very serious, “I don’t hook up with girls who are too inebriated to stand, let’s get that straight. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t even have our first fake kiss like this on account of the drinking and smoking, gotta make sure you’re in the right headspace. Secondly,”
He spins you around and quickly backs you up against the wall that stood a few feet behind the couch. His hand sliding up in between your shoulder blades, blanket now slumped around your waist, his other hand suavely cupping the side of your cheek, His hips angled into yours, pinning you back against the vinyl, almost collapsing back into it.
He pressed against you, not aggressively, but enough to let you know that if you were to try and squirm away he had the capacity to keep you right where he wanted you. He accomplished this all in one elegant motion, leaving you a bit dazed.
As you started to snap into reality, he moves his hand from your cheek down to grab your chin in between his thumb and the knuckle of his pointer, angling your face directly up at him.
“If you were some girl in a bar, it would be like this.”
The moment before your brain turned to absolute mush, you silently cringed at the thought of what you must look like, mouth hanging open, eyes glassed over, body instinctively sinking into his touch. Pathetic, you were sure of it.
Sure, Eddie did think you looked a little helpless, but he also thought you looked perfect. Exactly as he had imagined you to in this situation. Of course he had thought about you before, like that.
Of course he had felt an immediate spark with you when you had first met. But he never flirted back, or lead you on, because as much as he was attracted to you and enjoyed your company, he knew that it wouldn’t work out. He wasn’t relationship material, and you were the picture perfect girlfriend that he didn’t deserve.
He spoke directly into your parted lips, mouth hovering just far enough away to toe the line of ‘holy shit, is he going to?’ But no, as he made very clear, he wouldn’t kiss you under these conditions. He had made his point, and slowly backed off and let you find your footing.
As soon as he was sure that you were steady, he backed away and started down the hallway.
“I might have an extra toothbrush stashed away somewhere, let me look…” he ducked into the bathroom, leaving you stunned in the kitchen, head swimming and your stomach traveled up into your throat.
He was teasing you, he must be. That was his little way of getting back at you for thinking you could give him dating advice. If he was unsure about his capacity for romance, he was going to make sure you knew he was more than capable in other ways. Understood.
You shook your head, weeding through your inner monologue of how he could possibly look at you like that and then just walk away. Your shock gave him just long enough for you to to not notice him splashing cold water on his face in the bathroom while he “looked for a toothbrush.”
The two of you decided to ignore the lingering tension from the events in the kitchen, not a peep of fake-girlfriend talk from you for the rest of the night. He did find you that toothbrush, and the two of you moved through a too-easy domestic routine of getting ready for bed.
You told him that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you knew he was cramped on that couch, and that you were fine with sharing a bed. You mumbled something about getting around to bed sharing etiquette at some point anyways, and sleepily pulled him into being your little spoon.
Eddie lay there, trying not to twitch or fidget, relaxed as best he could into your cuddled form thinking about how horrible of an idea all of this was. He was convinced all it would take is roughly ten more minutes of you burying your face into his hair and making cute little sleepy noises for him to fall irreversibly in love with you.
But what was he supposed to do? Move and wake you up? Never.
You rolled around enough in the night to wake up in a less intimate position than when you had fallen asleep. You knew Eddie was a deep sleeper, and took it upon yourself to creep out of bed and back into your day clothes, make a pot of coffee, and watc a bit of TV before he roused and joined you in the living room.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” He rubbed the crust from his eyes and was pleasantly surprised to see you had brewed a whole pot of coffee to share.
“You looked so peaceful and cozy,” he shook his head at you, as if that was no excuse for letting him sleep an extra forty minutes.
After a slow morning, he agrees to drive you home.
“So this is the part where I say ‘Eddie, I had such a wonderful time on our date. I’d love to do it again sometime.’ And then you agree and tell me when you’re free. It’s best to be super direct and make plans to get together again soon, cuz then it’s not an awkward who’s-gonna-call-who-first sort of thing.”
“Uh-huh…” he stares at you blankly.
“But for our sake, let’s just agree that I’m in charge of planning our next date. Okay? I’ll do it from the perspective of what I think most girls would enjoy, so you can steal it for the future. I’ll call you later.”
You hop out of his van before he can agree, and leave him with a “Thanks for letting me stay over!” As you bound away from his view.
He squeezed his eyes shut the moment he caught himself checking your ass out as you walked away, and let his head rest down on the steering wheel. He was fucked. How the hell was he supposed to tell you that you needed to stop being his fake girlfriend without disrupting the homeostasis of your friendship?
On one hand he could lie and say he doesn’t want your advice, making you think he didn’t enjoy your company, which was entirely untrue. On the other hand he could tell you the truth, and you would never be friends the same way again.
He drove home with the music too loud, and patiently awaited your call later that evening to iron out the details of your second fake-date.
Per your instructions, he let you pick him up this time with the argument that you were the one taking him out this time. He didn’t know what you had planned, but let himself fall to the mercy of whatever you had decided was an exemplary date fore him to ‘steal in the future’.
You picked up two coffees and rolled up to the trailer park, popping a mix-tape he had made you ages ago.
“Hey, I thought we said no paying for each other with fake-dating,” he objects to the coffee sat in the passenger cupholder, some abomination of mostly cream and sugar, the way you know he likes it.
“Yes, that’s true, but you smoked me up the other night, and this coffee was like a dollar fifty, so don’t worry about it,” you give him a look that tells him to drink the damn coffee and not sass back, to which he complies, even though he smokes you up expecting nothing in return about every other weekend.
The two of you sip away and listen to Eddies ‘must-know-to-be-my-friend’ mixtape and arrive shortly at the strip mall across town. This was a regular weekly stop for both of you, the strip of connected stores containing the Goodwill, a pet store, the pharmacy, and grocery. A pretty mundane collection.
“Okay, what are we doing at Greg’s?” Eddie gestures to the grocery store, the back of his mind running through the grocery list he’s been making for this week anyways.
“What’s the perfect date?” You ask, and answer for him, “a romantic picnic. But gathering supplies is half the fun. Picnic food supplies at Greg’s, some pills to get fucked up at the pharm, some turtles or something to let loose into the wild from the pet store, and then hats, cups, blanket, etcetera from the Goodwill.”
He turns to you with the most bewildered stare, which sends you into a fit of giggles.
“Okay, I’m joking about the pills and the turtles,” you nudge his arm, “but won’t it be sweet to get together some picnic supplies and then drive out to lookout point? We can still swing by the pet store to check out the ferrets though.”
To Eddie, the idea of a date involved him doing something he didn’t want to do, some awkward small talk, and spending money on shit he truly thought was useless. This didn’t sound half bad. You would “work backwards so the food purchases come last” according to your reasoning, and he followed you in tow without any arguments into the Goodwill.
“So I’m thinking…” you start to wander into the aisles of used clothes and knick knacks, “maybe a blanket? A basket would be sort of corny, but if we find one for cheap I don’t see why not. Surely two glasses for drinking, and maybe some sun hats?”
Swiveling back around to see a half stunned Eddie, who was still processing how in the hell this was your idea of a romantic date, you grab his hand and pull him to the bric-a-brac section.
After it got through his thick skull that the same place he had uncomfortably tried on new pants throughout his growth spurt, and picked up his daily-worn leather jacket, had the same potential to provide some silly, cheap, used items to add some flair to this picnic.
Silly and cheap was right up Eddie’s alley. The two of you picked out mismatched champagne glasses, one with the engraved name of a couple who got married in 1943 and the other a flashy rose color with baby angel carvings dancing around the sides.
You luckily find an on sale beach blanket, and the two of you pick out some very goofy sun hats. A floppy farmers hat for you, and a bedazzled trucker hat spelling ‘hot mama’ for Eddie.
Through the midst of your giggles and debate on whether you should buy a wooden bench to bring out to your picnic destination, Eddie found himself having a really good time with you.
As promised, you visited the pet store and checked out the ferrets and fish and geckos.
“If you could have any pet, what would you want?” You asked him, noses pressed against the chinchilla enclosure.
“Jaguar,” he said, a little too quickly.
“For real, dummy,” you knock your hip into his.
“I don’t know, we never had enough space or extra money for pets growing up, so maybe someday if I had enough room for it to run around I’d like a dog or something,” he tells. Eyes still transfixed on the chinchilla behind the glass.
“I can see that,” you imagine Eddie with some mutt from the shelter, wrestling around and giving it lots of scratches behind the ears.
Skipping the pharmacy, you pop into the grocery store and assemble what may be the world’s most eclectic picnic.
“That’s the definition of a picnic, I’m pretty sure,” you explain after Eddie insinuated that the gingersnap cookies you grabbed, along with grapes and a block of cheese, wasn’t exactly a meal, “you know, just a smorgasbord of whatever we want!”
Admittedly, Eddie had considered a handful of pretzels and a beer to be dinner on more than one occasion, so he couldn’t argue with you. Quickly catching your drift, the two of you picked out an assortment of snacks and some ingredients for pb&j sandwiches.
“I thought picnics were supposed to be classy?” Eddie holds up the Wonder bread and bag of potato chips with a look that suggested his question was rhetorical.
Your response was simply to raise the, admittedly cheap, bottle of champagne you grabbed to accompany with your meal, more for the irony of drinking the bubbly liquid out of your new used glasses with your sticky sandwiches than anything else.
You pack your supplies into a tote bag, not having found a suitable basket at the thrift store, and drive across town to a dirt paved road that leads to a nice lookout point with a view of the lake.
“Let’s walk down the path a little bit, but not too far,” you grab the blanket and tote bag from your trunk, motioning for Eddie to put on his ‘hot mama’ hat and carry your other auxiliary supplies, “I do not fuck with bugs.”
“I’ll protect you,” Eddie puffs out his chest, making you both giggle.
“From bugs?”
“Yeah, I’ll punch a mosquito right in the face, to defend your honor and all that.”
“I know I told you not to do that, but a mosquito might be the exception to the rule.”
You found a nice little clearing not far from the car, a spot that still had a nice view but was a bit more secluded. Eddie sat pressed right up next to you, making your sandwich ‘to be a proper gentleman’ but simultaneously spilling a glob of jelly onto your leg.
“Shit,” he doesn’t think twice before leaning down and slurping the grape flavored blob off of your bare knee, tongue poking out and licking the spilt jelly from your skin.
“Eddie!” You squirm away, barking out a surprised laugh.
“What! Your knee is clean, wouldn’t want to waste perfectly good preserves, or a napkin.”
You feel your skin tingle where his lips had touched you, for only a moment, but you still felt it. He was so confident and casual in his movements, not having any hesitation to grab your hand or brush your hair out of your face. It wasn’t under the guise of fake romance, he had always been like that. Not touchy, per se, just sure of himself. You’d never seen Eddie do anything half assed, that’s for certain.
After the conversation you shared the other night, you were unable to stop your mind from wandering to thoughts of what Eddie does with those girls in bars, if he touched him with the same confidence and sureness he put into everything else he did.
It was wrong to let your mind go to such dirty places about someone you considered a friend, but you couldn’t manage to feel any guilt. He had offered that information freely, so who were you to punish yourself for staring a little longer at his fingers, conjuring up the context in which he’d bury them inside you against some grimy bar bathroom.
The date was all peanut butter smiles and bubbly laughter that floated up into the trees. Silly, yes, but neither of you could deny there was something sweet, maybe even romantic about it. A cheap meal in the woods shared between two friends in ill-fitting fifty cent hats, but an undeniable touch of romance lingered nonetheless.
Eddie started to realize that maybe the whole dating thing wasn’t as uptight and scary as he had initially thought. It could be easy and fun, with the right person. And fuck, if he could even imagine doing this with anyone but you.
Like most things Eddie did, he did not consider any potential consequences before acting. You looked so pretty sitting there in the sunshine, sipping from your cheap ‘Martha & Dave ’43’ glass, a few sandwich crumbs dotting the corner of your mouth.
What else was he supposed to do other than lean over and wipe them away with his thumb, stroking your soft cheek and feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm.
“You had some,” he uses his other hand to motion at his own mouth, “and I suppose this is the sort of moment where I’d ask if I can kiss you.”
You find yourself a bit dumbfounded, his big stupid hand on your cheek and those big stupid puppy dog eyes unrelenting in making everything he says seem so genuine.
“Are you?” You find your voice, only half embarrassed at how shy it comes out.
“Am I what?”
“Are you asking me?”
“Yeah,” his answer comes out in a way that insinuates that he never meant anything other than that, that he was always asking to kiss you, he wasn’t asking in theory, in another universe, in the context of advice.
“Okay,” you found yourself behaving like Eddie, not really thinking of consequences before your words and actions spoke on behalf of your instincts.
Everything so far had been so easy. Your fake first date at the bar, curling up next to him in a haze, making up stories about what sort of people donated the fake palm tree or the Garfield mug at the Goodwill, imagining Eddie running around a yard with a puppy, lounging in the grass and eating your assorted picnic snacks. It was all effortless.
Suddenly, being kissed by Eddie sucked the ease from your lungs and sent your mind spiraling into a cacophony of bells and whistles and giant swirling red flags. If this is how he kissed you, casually across some half eaten peanut butter sandwiches, you’d spend the rest of your days yearning to know how he kissed someone with true intention.
Of course, his intentions were all there, but the lingering knowledge that all of this was happening under the umbrella of “you giving him advice” or “helping practice for the next girl” poisoned any true feeling he poured into it. He cupped your cheek, soft, let his lips press into yours delicately for a moment before he felt your breath hitch, opening his mouth just enough to deepen the kiss and capture your lower lip fully.
He was more careful, gentle, methodic with his movements and so receptive to every little signal your body gave him, it was unlike any first-kiss, heat-of-the-moment-kiss, in-the-throws-of-passion-kiss, any of it. Like hell you’d ever tell him that, inflate that big ego that fuels his snippy comebacks at you, but Jesus, was it remarkable.
While at war with yourself internally, your heart was on the precipice of exploding in your chest from the way he snaked his hand into your hair and pressed his forehead against yours to catch a breath. You suck in a sharp breath and feel that stupid cocky smirk creep up onto that pretty mouth of his.
“’S that sufficient for a first kiss?”
“Fuck offfff,” you were still a little out of breath, smacking his chest and flopping back down onto the picnic blanket, throwing your arms up and rolling your eyes at him, “if you’re so damn confident, maybe we just should fake break up, cuz you don’t seem like you need my advice.”
“Nooooo,”he slumps down next to you, burrowing his head under your arm so he can pop up right next to your face, “I’m learning a lot, I promise! This date was so fun, and cheap! I would have never thought any of this could be remotely romantic. I’m hopeless, y/n, look at me.”
He wriggles around and gives you a big fake pout, “If left to my own devices I would probably do something horribly embarrassing or off-putting, like…” he digs his head into the crook of your neck and blew a fat, wet raspberry right into your skin, making you yelp and squeal, but his position half on top of you pins you down.
“See!” He pulls up for air, you were in a fit of screaming giggles, “I’d go right in for a kiss and just,” and he does it again, leaving you gasping for air, trying your best to tickle his ribs to get him off of you, but not minding the close contact by any means.
“Now I’m not so sure,” he pulls back to give you a minute to catch your breath, “it seems like you enjoyed that, so maybe survey says I should pull that move on the ladies.”
Your airy laughter subsided, but he stays half pinning you down to the blanket and the lumpy grass underneath.
“I didn’t mean to give you the impression that I’m not grateful for your help,” he says earnestly, catching your gaze, “it’s just… this isn’t what I need help with.”
As his statement is processing, you find his lips back on yours, his torso pressed flushed with yours and his wild mane of hair coming down to curtain around your head. He doesn’t take it too far, but kisses you as earnestly as he had before, giving your lip a slight drag with his teeth and running his hand up from your hip up the side of your ribcage, leaving you arching slightly into him by pure instinct.
Before your head got too dizzy again, before you could really throw yourself into it and say fuck it and kiss him back the way you secretly wanted to, he pulled back.
“That.” his voice was even, you hated how needy you felt and how even keeled he could be milliseconds after stealing the air from your lungs, “It’s the rest of it,” he threw his hands up and gestured to all the food and knock knacks around you, “it’s this stuff that you make seem so easy, so forgive me if I lay it on a little thick when we get to the parts I’m actually good at.”
“Just,” you sat up a bit, grounding yourself and formulating a response despite your brain looping the past twenty seconds back infinitely, “don’t do that again.”
“Okay,” he sat back and popped a grape into his mouth, “sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” you knocked his knee with yours, struggling to articulate how you felt without showing too much of your hand, deciding to just be candid, “I just- I liked that a little too much if you know what I mean. And this is strictly business, or education, maybe?”
“You liked it when I pinned you against the wall the other night,” he said matter of factly, “I think you liked that a little too much too, and you still took me on this fake educational business date.”
“Yeah, well, you caught me,” you threw your hands up in defense.
“Which one is it though?” He asks and you don’t quite understand, “are you a sweet kiss on the picnic kind of girl, or an up against the wall kind of girl?”
“That’s none of your business, as far as fake-dating is concerned,” you say a little too quickly, “and no you can’t have my panties.”
You say it with a smirk, but he doesn’t press any further. He turns and does that Eddie-thing he’s so good at, just changing the subject and shifting the vibe completely away from what might have been a stale moment or awkward pause. He starts asking if you like green or purple grapes better, going off about how he used to put them in the freezer as a kid.
The remainder of your date went without a hitch, of course. You picked away at your picnic until the sun started to set, and once the sky started turning purple you made your way back to the car. The drive home consisted only of easy conversation and no further mention of the kiss, well, kisses that had transpired. He hopped out of the passenger seat with a ‘thank you’ and a ‘see ya later alligator.’
A scalding hot shower, a restless night of sleep, and too many cups of herbal tea the next morning did nothing to quell the noise in your head that blasted those moments over and over. You couldn’t stop picking apart whether he had thought about it for even a millisecond, and felt embarrassed that you could think of nothing else.
It was simply an amplified version of what your whole friendship had been up until this point. You silently admiring him and wishing he would look at you the way you looked at him, and settling for friendship over heartbreak.
Pushing it aside to the best of your ability allowed you to get through your week, but you had the lingering feeling that the next time you saw him would strike you with warm cheeks and a scrambled mental state.
Guilt had started to seep in at the corners of your mind, but you reminded yourself that you shouldn’t punish yourself for having romantic or sexual thoughts about someone you simply found attractive and compelling, it was your actions that would determine the validity of your guilt.
“Long time no see, loser,” Robin hollered from the pool table across the bar, where she was likely kicking Steve’s ass.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” you shrug off your coat and plop down at their regular booth, knowing her jabs were entirely empty. You notice Eddie’s leather jacket hung up by the wall, and scan the bar to find him ordering a drink.
There was a silent mutual understanding that you’d keep the fake dating thing to a bare minimum when out with your friends like this. Even though Steve was well aware, and therefore Robin was too, you figured tainting your social time with the performance of romance is the exact reason Eddie turned down the girl at the bar in the first place.
“For the lady,” Eddie waltzes over and hands you a drink.
“Oh, thanks,” you take it with a confused smile, “you didn’t have to do that.”
“You bought me coffee last weekend,” he sat across the booth from you, “plus I’m trying to get better at buying drinks for pretty girls, right?”
You remind him that he doesn’t have to keep tabs on things like coffee, but you appreciate the gesture regardless. As per the past few times you’d been out with your friends, you expected him to put a pause on the flirting, but it seems to be bubbling over tonight. You weren’t complaining, but admittedly the arm around your shoulder or the noticeable way he checked you out when you got up to refill your drink took you by slight surprise.
Sneaking in to claim the always occupied dart board for a challenge against Eddie while he uses the restroom, you keep your eyes on the corner of the bar to signal him over once he returns.
“You need a partner?” A man suddenly appears behind you, a little closer than you’d like but the bar was crowded, so you’ll let it slide.
“Oh, I was just waiting for-“
“Let me fill in until your friend gets here, we can get you warmed up, yeah?” His tone wasn’t too pushy, but you didn’t love the look he gave you when making that comment.
Awkwardly staggering for a second, unsure weather to just agree or tell him to fuck off, “He really should be just a minute-“
“Or maybe less,” Eddie comes up right behind you and pulls you possessively into his side.
Your head whips up to see him with a devilish smile, his hand on your waist and the fire behind his eyes telling his guy to get lost.
“Oh, sorry man,” the guy starts backing away with an apologetic look.
“Yeah, better luck next time, pal,” Eddie snakes around to take the guy’s spot in front of the dart board.
He had his darts in hand and took his stance to start the match, gesturing for you to do the same.
“What was that,” you ask with a slight joking tone, but seriously curious.
“What?” He doesn’t make eye contact and instead throws the first dart, “I’m not allowed to get fake jealous?”
“You’re allowed to feel any fake emotion you want, I guess,” your tone is somewhere in between a joke and a question.
“You’d feel fake jealous if I was getting blown in the bathroom by some chick rather than playing darts with you, I bet.”
“Okay,” your tone shifts to defensive, “getting blown is very different than some guy asking to play darts with me.”
“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” Eddie turns to face you, having thrown all his darts, “for real.”
A moment lapsed where you didn’t register that your mouth was hanging open in disbelief, the look in your eyes Eddie immediately clocked as lust and bottled up to store away for a later time.
“I knew the scary dog thing would work,” his ‘i-told-you-so’ tone rubbed you the wrong way, but he wasn’t wrong, “you said girls weren’t into that, but you totally looooove that I defended your honor.”
“Don’t give yourself too much credit, I said girls wouldn’t be into it if you punched him,” you rolled your eyes.
“I don’t know, babe, I think you liked the whole ‘back off of my woman’ act.”
You mumble out a ‘whatever’ and let him have this win, which he was clearly reveling in, trying to focus instead at beating him at darts.
“Just don’t pull shit like that on a first date, acting too possessive off the bat is a huge red flag for a lot of women.”
“I thought we weren’t doing dating advice tonight?” You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s got that stupid sarcastic smile.
“Yeah I thought so too,” you fail at your attempt to beat him in darts, as well as your attempt to not flirt back with him.
He insists on collecting all the darts, picking up the ones haphazardly strews across the floor from failed attempts to hit the board.
“I’m no pro or anything, but I think you’d hit the board a lot more if you fixed your stance.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you flip him the bird and take back your red tipped darts.
As you steady your arm to aim your first shot he comes up behind you and grabs your hips, causing you to let out an unexpected squeak. He adjusts your stance, not aggressively, but with some force, twisting your hips and using his big combat boot to sweep your foot around so you stood more sideways.
“You’re standing straight on,” he backs up, allowing you to secretly catch your breath, “and all your shots are veering to the right. If you plant your feet more angled you’ll hit the board.”
You wanted to roll your eyes at him, miss on purpose to show him he’s full of shit. You flippantly toss the dart, not trying particularly hard, and it hits. Not a bulls-eye or anything like that, but a lot closer than your previous attempts had been.
“Good girl,” he comments, leaning in to breech your personal space just enough to make your blood boil.
You drop the remainder of the darts in your opposite hand onto the floor and whip around to face him, half jokingly smacking him on the shoulder.
“Oh my god, fuck off!”
You’re met with his trademark shit-eating grin.
Truthfully, Eddie hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off you all night. He’d spent the night after your picnic date with his hand in bis boxers, squeezing his eyes shut and remembering the little gasp you had made when he grabbed your waist, the hum in your throat that bubbled up when he kissed you pinned against the blanket, that night and every night since.
“Oh, you don’t like that?” that joking tone he uses to cover up what he actually wants to say.
“Shut up, you know I do,” you didn’t even try to stifle your reaction, knowing it was his intent to get under your skin.
“How would I possibly know that,” he playfully looks up at the ceiling and around the bar, hands clasped behind his back now, rocking back and forth on his heels.
“You better cut that shit out, unless you plan on doing something about it,” you manage the most assertive tone your wobbly insides could muster, a little shocked at yourself for actually saying what you were thinking.
“I’m not much of a planner,” he gracefully takes a stance next to you and rips all three darts, not great shots, but all hitting the board, “I’m more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy, you know that.”
“Well your pants better make up their mind if you’re playing boyfriend tonight or not,” your insinuation was heavy but you had fumbled your hand, and he had already seen all your cards at this point, so there was no reason to bluff.
“The real question is,” he leans in, his imposing figure crowding your space in a way that made your head spin, “do you want me to play boyfriend? Or do you want me to play guy who fucks your brains out in the bar bathroom?”
Your eyebrows pinched together for a millisecond, and before he could decipher your expression you grabbed his hand and started storming through the crowds hoarded by the bar. Why the hell a seedy downtown bar has a single stall family bathroom with a changing table is beyond you, but you drag him inside and slam the lock down behind you.
“You’re not allowed to treat me any differently after this,” you start to fall into the sinkhole of oh my god what the hell is about to happen, but are cut off by him pressing you against the closed door the exact way he had handled you against his kitchen wall that night weeks ago.
“Not unless you want me to,” he doesn’t hesitate to get his mouth on yours, immediately pulling your mind from wondering what the vague sticky substance on the door pressing into your back could be.
“I mean, you’re not allowed to fuck me and then never talk to me again,” you say in between moving lips and tongues, giving him a moment to bury his face in your neck, "Promise me."
“Oh don’t worry about that,” he pulls back, “we can go get coffee tomorrow and you can give me a full performance review. Promise.”
Your annoyed eye roll quickly turns into them fluttering shut as he licks a stripe up to the junction behind your ear that has you melted into a boneless puddle between his pressing hips and the door. He drags his teeth across your lobe while leaning into you with a black denim clad thigh.
“Why don’t we make a deal,” you let out, voice breathy and unfocused. Before he can even pull back to reply you continue, “if you’re half as good at this as you claim to be, and can make me cum in this dingy bathroom, I’ll let you take me back to your trailer and you can do whatever the fuck you want to me.”
He was leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss before he could even process your request, because yes of course, a million times yes he’s taking this deal. Despite the rouse of you playing bar hookup for the night, and despite the idea of bringing you back to his place and finally doing what he’s wanted since the day he met you absolutely terrifying him, he nods and kisses you.
It’s electrifying. His confidence only spurs you on to kiss him harder, grip his hair a little tighter, say the things you would only imagine in the deepest parts of your mind. The feeling of his grin against your lower lip and his fingers quickly unbuttoning your jeans fuels your fire.
“You sure you know what you’re getting into,” he mumbles playfully, pulling you away from the wall with a gasp and leading you over to the tiny built in counter against a mirror by the sink.
“Well I’m certainly not letting you fuck me against any of these sticky surfaces,” you note as you’re lifted onto the counter covered in mystery substance, “and I think you need to earn it.”
Of course it was no surprise to you that Eddie was good with his fingers. You probably could have told anyone that long before this impromptu bathroom hookup. Egging him on and challenging him in a way you were sure he wasn’t used to was well worth abandoning your assumptions.
“Oh yeah? I think, if you’re lucky, I’ll earn it more times than you can count before the night’s over,” he positioned himself in between your legs, pressing your torso into the mirror behind you as he leaned in for another heated kiss.
He pulled your ass to the edge of the counter, and looped his thumbs into the waistband of your unbuttoned pants. You were quick to assume that he’d yank the fabric right off your legs, preparing to lift your ass from the counter to assist.
Eddie paused, pulled back and gave you a look that asked ‘you’re sure about this?’ and when a dreamy smile spread across your cheeks he melted into you with a kiss that turned your stomach inside out and made your pussy flutter.
He snakes a hand from its grip on your torso down into your unbuttoned pants. You arched up into his touch, wanting to urge him to get on with it and get your pants and underwear out of the way, but appreciating how much he seemed to be reveling in feeling you for the first time.
“So fuckin wet,” he mumbled against your lips, his fingers only feeling up your cunt from outside your underwear. He pressed the fabric into your slick center, following the path up to your clit and then teasingly back down to where your panties were soaked through.
“You weren’t lying when you said you liked this a little too much,” he’s rolling his hips ever so slightly against your spread thigh as he rubs your clothed pussy, his teeth sinking into your lower lip as he moves the material aside and sinks two fingers right into your wet cunt with ease.
You were sure that you’d retrospectively have a million quippy compacks that come to mind, but in this moment it was impossible to come up with words when his fingers were buried inside you, still, just letting you squeeze around them, and his hard cock straining against his jeans nestled against the inside of your thigh.
He slowly drags his finger’s up from your hole to your clit, and you let out a whine of desperation as he fully removes his hand from your damp underwear.
Before you can manage the breath to tell him to please, for the love of god, get on with it, he brings his fingers up to his lips and gives them a long suck, never breaking eye contact with you.
“Yeah,” he sighs out and presses his forehead against yours, “I might like that a little too much too.”
Protests and urging words catch in your throat as he yanks down your pants and underwear with one quick pull, not even needing you to lift your ass off the counter more than it already was. He was methodical and moved with intention, folding up your pants neatly and shoving your soaked panties into his back pocket, shooting you a wink.
“Eddie, please,” your overdue complaints are finally bubbling over. You hardly finish your plea before his face is buried in your neck, and his fingers are sliding right back into your needy hole.
The top of your head rests against the mirror behind you, exposing your neck and arching your back into his touch. He sucks and nips at the soft skin between your collar bone and ear, all while letting his two middle fingers pump slowly into you.
“Mmmm,” he mumbles into the crook of your jaw, “such a good girl for me, perfect pussy squeezing my fingers so tight, can’t fuckin wait to feel you soak my cock.”
Nearly orgasming at his words alone, your eyes flutter shut and you let out a moan of his name as he lets his thumb drag circles across your clit. “Eddie, please, just like that, I-”
“Oh, suddenly she’s not questioning my abilities?” he says with a biting smirk, “What was that about me not being half as good as I think I am?”
“Fuck,” you want to raise an eyebrow and shoot something back, hold out and make him work for it, but after hardly two minutes of his fingers rolling inside you, hooked up to drag along that perfect fucking spot, you had no choice but to feed his ego and let him win.
“You wanted to make your little deal,” he pumps a little faster, making your head loll to the side and mouth hang half open, “I’ll sweeten it for you, babe. I say we can get this pretty pussy to come twice all over my fingers before anyone even knocks on this door.”
“Yes,” is all you can squeak out, “yes, please.”
If Eddie was being honest, he was a few half-thrusts into your thigh short of coming in his own pants from how hot you looked. Your eyes glassed over, pretty lips parted and gasping his name, perfect cunt sucking his fingers in.
The hand not occupied by your gushing cunt slid up to cup the side of your cheek, forcing you to look into his fiery eyes. “Feel’s good?” he questions, knowing the answer and not expecting a verbal response.
He drags the pad of his thumb up to your parted lips, running it along your plush bottom lip and dragging it down a bit, relishing in how under his spell you were. His thumb slips into your mouth and you immediately wrap your lips around it and suck.
“Good girl,” his thumb on your clit is rubbing more focused circles, “suck on that and keep your voice down, don’t want the whole bar knowing what a good little slut you are for me.”
Jackpot.
A muffled moan around his thumb and the spasming of your inner walls signaled that you were hitting your peak. He drags the spit slicked digit from your lips and quickly replaces it with his lips and tongue, kissing you with fervor as he feels you ride out your orgasm on his hand.
“Mmmmmmm” you moan, somewhere between a pleading whine and a sigh of satisfaction into his lips as his fingers don’t let up.
Under different circumstances you would tell him to slow down, give you a minute to catch your breath. Eddie was stubborn, this you knew, and he had already made it abundantly clear that one orgasm wasn’t going to be enough.
He pulls back from your lips, loving the sharp intake of breath you swallow as your cheeks continue to flush and eyelids keep fluttering.
“So fucking good, came all over my fingers,” his gaze locks in on where his hand was buried into your cunt. “Gonna give me one more?”
Of course you would, whether it was up to you or not. He did slow up for a second, just enough for you to regain your grip on reality before he started curling them up again.
“Eddie,” you whine out, eyes nearly crossed and unable to focus your attention on his face, hands, anything other than his boner poking into your inner thigh, “wanna feel you.”
The hand formerly gripped tight onto the edge of the counter snakes forward and pulls his hip into you, a permanent indentation of his stiff cock molding against your skin.
“Not yet baby,” he rolls his hips forward, giving you a delicious feel of how it would be if he was inside you, but instead pushing his fingers a touch deeper and then pulling his hips away, “one more and then I’ll take you home. You’re gonna let me ruin that perfect little cunt, right? That was the deal?”
“Yes,” you gasp out, his other hand moving from your hair down to rub fast tight circles on your clit, the other hand still pumping steadily inside you.
“That’s right, I know this pussy is gonna take me so well. You’re already drooling for my cock, so fucking perfect.”
You feel it building up again, that sacred double orgasm that only ever came during your alone time in the shower or when you were so desperate for release that your hand didn’t stop after the first, but never with another person, never like this.
His smile nearly touched his ears at this point, pulling back to take in all of you as your eyes screwed shut and thighs threatened to break his wrist at how fast they snapped together.
Hitting you like a punch to the gut, your abdomen tightened and released rapidly, air sucked from your lungs and his hand working you through it between your clenched thighs.
Yeah, maybe this was a bad idea.
If you were in a cartoon, stars and chirping birds would be swirling around your head as you slowly came back to reality. He gave you some space, and begrudgingly gave you pack your panties after you hand out your hand and gave him a stern look.
“I’m gonna go tell the others that you aren’t feeling great and I’m taking you home,” he makes sure you’ve pulled your pants back up before unlocking the door, “Take your time, and I’ll meet you at the van, okay? I’ll grab your stuff.”
“Yeah,” you still feel a little flustered, looking back into the mirror and smoothing down your hair, “thanks.”
He shoots you a wink before slipping out, giving you a moment to collect yourself and splash some cold water on your face. Okay, so you’re doing this.
Any nagging feelings that this might ruin things or that he’s only teasing you because of your arrangement are quickly squished down into a deeper compartment of your brain, overtaken by the post orgasm bliss and wandering thoughts of what might happen next.
You peek your head out of the bathroom door, and slink your way to the back door without passing your group table or a stray Steve or Robin. The fresh air equalizes your buzzing thoughts, and you spot Eddie, already in the driver’s seat of his van.
“You good?” He asks as you hop into the passenger seat. You won’t let him have the upper hand, just because he made you come twice in under ten minutes.
“Yeah,” you gather as much assertion as your voice will project, “You good?”
“F’course,” he starts backing up, you internally roll your eyes at the way his outstretched arm muscles and curved neck make your stomach flutter, “Just wanted to make sure I passed the test.”
You sit in silence, not wanting to give into the cocky game he clearly wants to play, yet know that he’s entirely correct in his assumption that he’s driven you completely crazy. Once he’s on the main stretch of road, finally rolling to a stop at a red light you let your hand migrate across the center console, dancing its way into his lap.
As you hoped, his cock was still half hard and apparent underneath his jeans. You let your hand draw circles next to it, loving the little twitch you get when you run your nails against his thigh.
“Easy there, tiger,” he lets out a huffed laugh, with just an edge to his tone that suggested you were getting yourself into something you’d soon regret.
“C’mon Eds,” you let your head fall on the corner of the headrest, gaze angled over at his tight grip on the steering wheel while your hand dancing around the bulge in his pants, “you’ve been pushing this thing against my thigh for the past twenty minutes, forgive me for wanting a better feel.”
You put on a pretend pouty face and flash him your best puppy dog eyes to ward off any incoming snippy comments from him. He rolls his pretty eyes at you and silently bites the inside of his cheek as you feel up and down his lap, grazing his growing cock with each pass.
“Forgiven,” through gritted teeth, he squeezes his eyes shut as your fingers circle around his head, now taking visible form beneath his black jeans. He internally reprimands himself for losing focus on the road, and zeroes his concentration on getting back to his trailer as fast as this van can take him.
You have your fun watching him wiggle in his seat, feeling his thigh muscles clench under your palm every so often. You weren’t full on jerking him off over his pants, but you were certainly relishing in the feeling of his dick getting harder and harder with each occasional pass of your hand.
He parks diagonally across the lawn in front of his trailer, not giving a shit where the van ends up as long as it’s stopped. He wanted to dash around the vehicle and scoop you out of your seat, throw you over his shoulder and take you inside to continue with whatever this evening had in store for you.
The second his hand stalled on the clutch, shifting the van into park and taking a moment to let his mind wander to what would happen once he got you inside, you were already halfway out the van and skipping up the steps to his front door.
Entering his trailer, you start taking off your coat and shoes, trying to act as normal as possible. Your facade of keeping it cool entirely shatters when he enters behind you, calmly clicking the door shut and patiently waiting for you to finish unlacing your boots.
You remain crouched down, darting your eyes up at him, deciding against being a brat and undoing your laces as slowly as possible to keep him waiting. Any caution you had was long swept away by the wind, and he’d taken control in your little bathroom tryst, so it was your turn to say fuck it and just do what felt right.
And in this moment, there was only a few quick movements and about six inches of space between you and Eddie’s semi-hard dick. One shoe was only half off, haphazardly kicked behind you as you pivoted onto your knees and had your hands moving eagerly up his tensing thighs.
“Can I?” Your question was half formed and he was already nodding.
You’d teased him enough on the ride over, you wanted him, now. Pants quickly unbuttoned and blue checkered boxers pushed down to his knees, and you were about to go feral and just go for it when a silver glimmer adorning his thick cock caught your eye.
Your mouth was already half open, but your jaw nearly unhinged and hit the floor when the pierced head of his dick falls out of his boxers and lands at your eye level.
Unmoving, mouth agape, you look up to make eye contact, ripping your eyes away from the shock of two silver balls on his cockhead. He knew it was nice, he wouldn’t have bedazzled it if it wasn’t, but the look you were giving him sucked all the unwavering confidence from his body for a split second, suddenly feeling weak in the knees at the sight of you slowly sicking your tongue out, not making any contact but waiting.
He took the base of his dick in his hand and gave it a few precautionary strokes before angling it down and slapping your wet tongue with the tip a few times.
You were two and a half seconds away from being entirely fucked out. If he pulled away and asked you to crawl on all fours to him, you’d do it without a second thought.
You let him slide his cock gently against your outstretched tongue a few times before coming to your senses and wrapping your lips around him, moving your hand to replace his and move against the length that your mouth couldn’t yet reach.
All it took was a few steady bobs of your head, hand twisting and eyes still focused upwards on his face, to have him biting his knuckle and looking up at the ceiling to ground himself to try and not bust on the spot. You love this, of course, seeing him visibly spiral paired with the salty taste of precum already leaking from him.
The hand not jerking him off comes up to the back of his hip, gently pushing against him in tandem with the movements of your head, encouraging him to shallowly thrust into your mouth.
“Jesus fu-“ he grunts out, not wanting to overestimate your encouragement, but unable to keep his hips from rolling forward slightly with the push of your hands and the bob of your lips.
After an unexpected snap of his hips that sent his cock sliding into the back of your throat, making you gag slightly, a pang of guilt struck through him for pushing too hard. That was, until you let your head pull back a touch to catch your breath, but a long string of spit connected your lips to his cock, and a wild smile broke across your face that nearly sent him to the moon.
You dove back in and pushed his cock all the way into the back of your throat, going so far that your nose pressed into the patch of dark curls that sat above his perfect dick. Focusing your breathing through your nose, you make a point to constrict your throat a few times until you feel him twitch inside you.
Pulling off with a gasp for air, you notice his eyebrows pinched together and gaze locked on you.
“I like how these feel,” you comment, letting your pointed tongue dance around the metal balls on his tip.
He shudders and you clench your thighs at the sight of his stomach muscles tensing up when your tongue makes contact with the underside of his head, right where it meets the shaft.
“If I let you fuck my mouth until you come, are you still going to be able to give it to me in a bit, or are you a one and done kind of guy?” You ask with a playfully teasing tone, but genuinely want to know if you suck him off to completion if the night will be over or not.
“Fuck,” he spits out, more blood rushing to his cock at the idea of coming down your throat, “I’d fuck you all night if you’d let me babe.”
Half a second doesn’t pass before his cock is back in your mouth, hips shakily moving forward with your movements, gaining confidence as you flicker your eyes up at him through your lashes, the glimmer in them telling him he can take what he wants.
“Fuckin’ look at you,” he comments to himself, “takin’ it all.”
“Mhmmm,” you hum around him letting your tongue roll around his tip each time before he pushes his cock back down your throat.
“You think you can get away with teasing me like that? That shit you pulled in the van back there, you think it’s cute to try and get me all riled up?”
You nod, tongue out and saliva coating your lips and chin. You could tell he was close by the way his words came out staggered, and his hips started snapping towards you in a new tempo, like his body was chasing it.
Grunts and moans pulled from his chest fill the space mixed with the hums of satisfaction you let out while you take him deeper and faster. Moving in for the kill, you carefully slip your hand up in between his legs, cupping his balls, trying your best not to startle him.
“Oh fuck,” it was a pitch of his voice you’d never heard before, a new tone especially reserved for the moments before orgasm, “you’re gonna make me fuckin come, y/n, y/n, I’m…”
The feeling of his balls constricting in your hands cues the warm wash of come sputtering down into your throat.
Getting the feeling he’d appreciate a bit of a show, you continue to jerk him off and pull off his cock slightly, letting the tip balance onto the tip of your tongue and the rest of his load spills out into your open mouth, some landing around the corners and onto your lips.
“Christ, y/n,” his chest is heaving, his eyes finally pulling from you to squeeze shut for a moment.
Once you’re sure he’s looking at you again you swallow down the salty white substance and lick the excess off your lips. You take his head back into your mouth, sucking just enough to clean off the tip and lap up any stray drops. He’s sensitive, you can tell, so you stop torturing him and place a final kiss right in between the two metal balls.
You thought of asking him if the piercing hurt, or maybe make a comment about the two matching tattoos on his hipbones, ink of his you’d never seen until now. Before your brain can jump from swallowing his come to making post-nut chit chat, he’s yanking you up off your feet and wrapping you in a searingly passionate kiss.
In your past experience most guys wanted you to drink some water or brush your teeth after they came in your mouth, at least before kissing you. Not Eddie. The way his tongue immediately slipped into your mouth, you almost believed he was trying to get a taste for himself.
“C’mon,” he whispers in between slotting his lips with your, “Bedroom. Now.”
He takes your hips in his hands and spins you around, causing a surprised yelp to bubble up from you, making him chuckle behind you as he walks you down the hall, keeping his hands on your sides.
You knew where you were going, there were only so many doors in his tiny trailer, and you’d been here plenty of times before, but you liked the feeling of his hands pushing you forward, guiding your movements and steering you down the hallway into his room.
Before your knees can hit the bed he spins you back around and captures your lips in another heated kiss. His hands trail up your sides, letting his fingertips slide beneath the hem of your shirt and push it upwards until your ribs were exposed. He pulls away from your face, leaving you leaning back into him, not wanting the kiss to end.
“Up,” he pinches the sides of your shirt in his hands, and signals with his chin that he wants you to lift your arms, which you comply.
It slides up and off of you, his hands quickly darting back to unclasp your bra, seemingly without even trying. This makes you roll your eyes, but the realization that you’re bare before him eclipses the thought of making a snippy remark about what a man whore he is.
Flat palms caress your sides and move up to cup your breasts, his tongue pressing into the side of your neck.
“These too,” his thumbs dip into your pants, managing to wiggle under the waistband of your panties as well. You’re going to do it yourself, but he gently pushes you back onto the bed, letting you flip back into the unmade blankets.
“I wanna see you,” he pops your pants button and waits for a nod before sliding your pants and underwear down your legs.
In between the blowjob and now, he’d tucked himself back into his pants, pulling his boxers and jeans back up, still unbuttoned, but covering him back up as his cock returned to a half hard state, unlikely to stay that way for very long considering how things were going.
The scene of you now sprawled out onto his bed, naked and needy for him, and him standing above you, basically fully clothed, had a flood of lust traveling south between your thighs.
“So fuckin’ gorgeous,” you burned under his intense gaze, raking down your body and soaking in the image of your skin laid out against his flannel plaid sheets.
He crawls over you, letting his body melt into yours, the center seam of his jeans pressing against your soaking core, just as it had when he had you pressed up against the door of the bar bathroom.
Rocking gently against you, you feel his cock already starting to harden again. His tongue moves against your neck, hands roaming freely against your skin, arching into his touch.
His breath was heavy against your lips, he was already starting to lose himself, and he knew he wanted to make you come with his tongue at least once before his dick came back out, but it was already pulsing between his legs, growing rock solid with every little whimper that came past your lips.
Your fingers intertwined themselves into the tresses of his long, messy hair. You use your new grip to pull his face as close into yours as your bodies will allow, smushing his nose up against your cheek and foreheads plastered together. The weight of his body on yours, and the lovely rocking motion of his hips against yours stopped as he pulled away and hooked his arms under your knees.
He slides off the side of the bed, feet returning to the carpeted ground and yanking your body to the edge of the mattress. You let out an unexpected giggle, body limp like a rag doll, moving wherever he wanted you.
He leans back over to give you another deep kiss, teeth dragging against your lower lip and tongue sliding gracefully against yours, before he slides his mouth down, stopping to lap up at your nipples for a moment, not letting any part of your skin go untouched as he takes his time moving down to where you want him most.
Wiggling around on his mattress, your body is begging him to get on with it, but he loves to make you squirm. He takes his time licking up your hip bones, kissing from the innermost part of your thigh all the way down to your knee, and then back up the other side. He even takes a long moment to suck a dark purple bruise into the meat of your thigh, biting down on the flesh and licking over the skin to soothe it, noticing how your back arched a little when he bit down harder.
“Please Eddie,” your voice is hardly above a whisper, whimpering and whiny.
“All you had to do was ask nicely,” he has that too-cocky tone again, but it’s long forgotten once his tongue is buried in between your thighs, lapping up the excess of wetness already pooled there.
“Ohhh,” you let out a moan, sucking in a sharp breath and allowing your body to relax under his focused touch.
His hands push up from your ass to the crooks of your knees, moving your legs back to either side of you, strong palms finding their resting place on the backs of your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide open for him while he buries his face deep in your cunt.
“You-“ the start of a compliment, or maybe a request, escapes your lips but the sudden harsh suck of your clit into his mouth has you speechless and moaning, “Mhmmmmm, uhhhhhhh.”
The sloppy wet sounds of him making out with your pussy are enough to drive you wild, your hands originally balling his sheets in your fists quickly move to the top of his head, resting atop his mop of messy curls.
“Y’can give it a tug,” the first half of his statement spoken directly into your pussy, “I don’t mind a little pain.” He shoots you a wink and keeps his eyes locked on you as he lets his tongue lap a fat long lick up your slit, and then leaning back down to encourage you to tangle your hands into his hair.
Coming to either side of his head you grab two points of purchase, locking your fingers in at the roots and feeling him hum into your cunt when you grabbed it a little tighter.
Your hips start to quiver, so he brings one hand from your thigh up to your lower stomach, pinning you against the bed, and still keeping you spread open with the other.
Working a steady rhythm against your slick center with his lips and tongue, he can tell he’s found the spot you like most by your open mouth and tight eyebrows.
“Ohmygod,” your chest starts moving with heavy breaths, you can’t bear to keep yourself up any longer and flop back down flat onto the mattress, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. He lets go of his anchor on your tummy and returns his hands to your thighs, allowing your hips to wiggle and wriggle against his face to chase after your own pleasure.
“Pleasepleaseplease,” one glimpse of his big brown eyes looking up at you and his nose pressing deliciously into the spot above your clit has your head reeling, “please don’t stop, fuck.”
Rather than reply, he just continues to devour you at that steady pace, your thighs almost snapping shut around his head .
“Uh huh, right there, oh fuck Eddie I’m gonna-“
A strangled moan rips from your throat and your back arches off the mattress, his hands quickly come to wrap around your thighs and keep your center held closely against his face. He’s pulling your hips flush with his face, despite your spasming torso and gushing core.
As your orgasm peaks, your hips angle themselves to push up deeper into his face, and he uses his leverage against the backs of your thighs to lift your ass, the entire lower half of your body now off the mattress and sliding backwards as he keeps his moving tongue glued to your clit.
He climbs up onto the mattress as you slide back, the grip he had on your legs was sure to leave a sore memory of him unwilling to let your coming pussy away from his face.
When he finally pulls away, your hand pushing at his forehead to prevent overstimulation, both of you gasping for air, his knees are propped under your thighs, and your hips are propped up right at perfect level with the bulge in his pants.
“Fuck me,” you say through catching your breath, not as an expletive but rather a demand, “Eddie, I need you to fuck me,” your voice was whiny and desperate.
“This okay?” he starts pulling his dick from its constraints in his unbuttoned jeans, not even shoving them halfway down his thighs before he had that pretty pierced dip dragging through your open and ready folds.
“Yes, inside, please,” you were chasing after his length, while he tossed his shirt off. He teasingly ran it up and down your slit before sinking into you, collapsing down to press your lips into a kiss to swallow your moans as he slid the whole thing in slowly, making sure to take his time and fuck you right.
He grabbed the back of your neck and pressed his forehead to yours, finally sheathed all the way inside you and stilling for a moment to relish in the feeling. Pulling back so he can watch your face as he pumps his first few thrusts, he knows he’s beyond fucked.
“So fucking good,” you slur out, eyes almost crossing from how deep his cock was hitting your insides.
“Yeah? This pussy’s god damn perfect, fucking made for me,” he articulates each thought with a snap of his hips, “suckin’ me right in.”
“Wait, can we,” your voice had a little more weight behind it unlike the airy moans he’d grown obsessed with in the past forty minutes.
He pulls back, and rather than finish your thought you slip him out of you and roll over, shuffling up the bed and positioning yourself face down ass up, knees spread and back arched.
“You think you can handle it?” he asks jokingly, swatting your ass playfully and then landing a second, harder smack on the flesh when he notices you pussy clench around nothing at the sensation of him spanking you.
“Want you to fuck me hard,” you mumble into his pillow, wiggling your hips a little bit to jiggle the fat of your ass, “I know your cock is gonna feel so fucking good in me this way, wanna feel that fucking piercing back in my throat from the other direction.”
“Jesus Christ, y/n,” he was genuinely a little shocked at your words, slowly learning that your freak side might match his.
You expected to feel his cock slam into you once his hands came to spread your ass apart, but instead the mattress dipped and he was licking another fat stripe from your clit all the way up past your second hole, running this back a few times until you were moaning into the pillow and thighs were tensed up from the attention he was giving you.
“Sorry babe, just needed another taste,” he pushed the head of his dick into you, and moved the first few inches agonizingly slow into your soaked hole.
“Eddie please, need it, need you,” he loved that his sheets were balled up in your fists, using the tension of the material to bounce yourself back onto him. You only manage to slide back down about three quarters before he’s tightly gripping your hip and pulling out half way again.
“Tsk tsk tsk, you need to learn to be patient, pretty girl,” he’d thrust it an inch of so, and then slowly pull back, making you whine and start to feel tears bubble up in the corners of your eyes.
“Want it so bad,” your cheek laid flat against his pillow, and you could catch a glimpse of him behind you out of the corner of your eye if you craned your neck a bit. You sounded so desperate, but you knew he liked it, liked hearing how badly you craved him.
He starts moving in and out of you, firm grip on your ass never wavering. Restrained grunts left his mouth as he fucked into you, causing your eyes to practically roll into the back of your head. He leans down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, despite how viciously he's pounding into you. His head cranes down to your shoulder, his hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face.
As his long fingers move your hair away from your eyes, you push your head back into his hand, not wanting to lose contact. He tentatively runs his hands up into your hair, taking a soft grip on your roots.
“Is this what you want?” he whispers, “you like it rough?”
“Yes,” you manage to squeak out, “fuck, pull my hair, spank me, do whatever the fuck you want to me, please.”
His vision practically goes black with this new unrestricted passion, allowing himself to thrust into you as hard and as deep as his hips would propel him, twisting your hair in his grip and pulling you up from your laid position, quickly letting your hands jump to his headboard to support you as your head was pulled back.
You tried to bounce back onto his cock, wanting to feel him as deeply and wholly as your bodies would allow, but you could hardly keep up with the pace he had set.
Your ass bouncing against him and the occasional glance he caught at your fucked out expression spurred him on to fuck you even harder. He had your hair pulled back so tight that your back was pressing flush up with his chest every so often, and he took the opportunity to snake an arm around you and hold your chest up flat, his other hand moving down to rub frantic circles on your clit.
“You’re gonna make me come like this,” you manage to croak out, voice hoarse from the harsh bend in your neck.
“Nuh uhh, no,” his voice was gruff and commanding, right into your ear and sent a shiver down your spine.
He pulled out of you fully, and had you flipped around flat on your back again before you could even open your mouth to complain.
“Need to see that pretty face when you come on my cock,” he lines himself up with you again, pushing into you and making a mental note of how the bulge of his cock looked pressing up from the inner part of your lower stomach.
And of course, your face screwed up in pleasure, puffy lips and sweaty brow, slack jawed and panting his name would be something Eddie wouldn’t be able to forget even if he tried.
His thumb found its way to your clit to pick up where he had last left you, steadily building to an earth shattering orgasm. Talking you through it, knowing you were close by the vice grip your walls had on his dick, in between grunts he spilled out some “good girl”’s and “right fuckin there, that’s it.”
When he felt your thighs tense up, and the muscles in your neck strain against the soft skin he’d previously had his lips all over, he knew you were nearing the finish line.
“So fucking perfect, feel so good wrapped around me,” he managed to sweet talk you without altering the pace of his hips, “That’s it, come on my cock, give it to me.”
With that, your body can’t help but throw itself over the edge of pleasure. A deep grunt rattles in your chest, and you lose all sensation other than the wild pulsing in between your legs. You can’t be bothered to worry about what your face looks like, or if your thighs are squeezing him too hard, you only feel the riptide of an orgasm shattering through you.
The animalistic noise that Eddie grunts out, his wild gaze locked on your face only makes your body shake with pleasure even harder. He had that instinct that most men lacked, to keep the exact pace and motion when your orgasm hit rather than speed up or slow down, it was a gift, a talent.
Of course he wasn’t going to change a thing about what he was doing, look at you. You were so fucking perfect, shaking and coming all over him, those sweet noises and the beautiful squelching between your thighs. He’d rather die than change a single thing about this moment.
He stilled only when you paused to catch your breath, and within seconds was flipped over by the power of your thighs onto his back.
Unexpectedly, you began to ride him, trying to match the pace he had earlier set. The aftershocks of your orgasm still washed through you, but you seized the moment to get him right where you wanted him. This angle was different, deeper and more connected. You roll your hips and bring your hands up to his hair, foreheads pressing together once again.
“You’re making me feel so fucking good,” you manage to breathe out into his lips, he quickly comes to the realization of what’s happened and shifts the angle of his hips to hit you even deeper.
“I’d give you everything, if you’d let me,” he doesn’t let a single thought pass in his mind before the words slip out, “always.”
Your lips capture his in a kiss that has far more emotion behind it than two friends play-dating and fucking for fun. His hands come up to grasp your cheeks, your hips continue to roll down into his with purpose.
“I’m- Where-“ his words are hardly intelligible in between breathless kisses, but you know what he means.
“Inside, please, need all of you inside me,” you try to keep your voice steady so he hears you loud and clear, wanting to give him the exact attention he had paid to you, “Please Eddie, come inside me.”
His hands travel down and guide your hips to fuck down onto him one, two, three times before he’s groaning in your ear and letting out the prettiest and most vulnerable sounds you’ve ever heard form him.
The swell of his cock inside you makes you drape your head into his neck, focusing on riding out his orgasm and making sure he was twitching in the aftershocks of his orgasm before you let up.
When you felt his grip on your hips tighten, signaling that he’d had too much, you sink all the way down one final time and let your body lay limp on his, pulsing cock still filling you up.
His chest rose and fell harshly with his recovering breaths. You could feel his heartbeat pulsing up through the spot on his neck where your ear laid on his sweaty skin.
Silently awaiting the inevitable tap on the shoulder, the slow pull out and post-sex cleanup process, you try to savor every passing moment. But it doesn’t come. Eddie wraps his arms around your midsection and holds your limp body close to his, letting his cock start to soften inside you.
You nearly fall asleep like that, all wrapped up in him, until you recognize that you should pee and clean up to avoid a UTI. You slip off of him, and hear a disappointed groan from him. He makes cute grabby hands at you as you cross the room, making you roll your eyes, but something deep inside you flip flops with how sweet he’s being, so caring, so unlike the picture of himself that he had painted for you.
You give him a wet hand towel to clean up the remnants of your activities, and slip back into bed with him per his insistence. You doze off for a while, until the rising sun peeking through his blinds catches your eye, striking you with the sudden decision to stay and face the music or leave and let it settle.
You’d already regretted it, but weren’t ready to have the “hey, so I know we had fake boyfriend-girlfriend sex, but I actually really like you so what should we do about that?” conversion with him, so instead you take the cowardly path and tiptoe out of his room in the early morning hours, leaving behind your underwear on his nightside table with a scribbled note saying to call you. Hopefully that was enough of a signal.
Apparently not,
Days pass, and no call.
It was all starting to get to your head. While you had gone through the stages of being nervous that you had done something wrong, that he was avoiding you to spare you the rejection, thinking he regretted what had happened and didn’t want to face you, who was so obviously into him it was painful, you’d just now turned a new leaf. Fuck that. If he was too much of a coward to call you, you'd hope he'd at least give you the decency as a friend to tell you the truth, you deserved to be angry, and you deserved a response.
After stewing in your feelings for longer than felt healthy, you just get in your car and start driving to his trailer. If this all blew up in your face at least you wouldn’t have to keep biting your nails and waiting for the phone to ring.
Three deep breaths, and a quick moment to gather your thoughts, and suddenly your body acted on instinct, putting the car in park and walking up to pound three concise knocks on his trailer door.
“Just a second,” he hollered from inside, giving you a few seconds to be stricken with regret for showing up unannounced without a plan on what exactly to say.
“What do you- oh, y/n,” he was in a pair of plaid pajama pants that hung low on his hips, shirtless and hair still damp from a recent shower, “uh, hey?”
“Oh, hey,” your tone was laced with annoyance, “I left something here last week and I’m here to get it back. If you don’t mind.”
“What- oh,” he’s a second too slow to realize you mean the underwear you had purposefully left behind with that note. The note telling him to call you. Which he never did.
You were left standing on his porch steps, arms crossed and shooting daggers out of your eyes while he stood there in the doorway, an apparent guilty expression plastered on his face while he rocked back on his heels to buy some time to figure out what to say.
“You don’t have to invite me inside, if you can just grab them and give them to me, and I’ll be out of your hair,” you say flatly, recognizing if he does as asked then this might be the last time you speak to Eddie Munson.
“No, no, uh, you should come in,” he steps aside to let you in, “we probably shouldn’t have this conversation on my front steps.”
Avoiding eye contact, feeling an overwhelming mix of anger, confusion, and betrayal, you step inside and don’t make any effort to move into the space. You just stand by the door and give him an expectant look. Either he could go get the underwear, or he could grow a pair and say something to you.
“I, uh-“ he looked so defeated you started to feel bad for using such a pointed tone, but then you remembered the days and days that passed without hearing from him, “I’m sorry, that I, y’know…”
“Yeah, well I don’t really care if you’re not looking for any post sex recap conversations, because you’re obviously pretty sure of yourself in that department,” the words flew out before your mind could even conjure them up, “but you fucking promised me that you wouldn’t do this, so can I please just have my underwear back and I won’t bother you again.”
He runs a hand through his hair letting out a deep exhale and searching the ceiling for words, “I know, I-“
You cut him off, your thoughts were ripping through you now and you were going to say your piece whether he asked for it or not, “You said you wouldn’t pull this shit with me, but I guess our friendship isn’t substantial enough for you to see me any differently than you do every other girl you throw away after you’ve gotten what you want. You clearly don’t want any more advice and you clearly don’t want to be my friend, so please, just give me my shit so I can go.”
“That’s the fucking thing y/n, of course I don’t want to be your friend,” his gaze still fixed on the ceiling.
At this point you were seconds away from just storming out, letting him keep your underwear as some twisted little trophy for breaking your heart.
“Yeah, crystal clear Eddie.”
“Being your friend is already hard enough, and I knew this shit was a bad idea, the whole trial-girlfriend thing. But how the fuck was I supposed to say no to that? The girl of my dreams offers to do all this no-strings-attached romantic shit, I’d be the dumbest man alive to turn that down.”
You just give him a blank stare, your scalding anger twisting into a more confused frenzy of bees swarming in the pit of your stomach. Eyebrows pinched together, you just stare at him until he finally makes eye contact with you.
“And yeah,” he goes on, letting all his words out like a big exhale in the same cadence that you had just hurled all your angry words at his, but his tone was filled with guilt as opposed to rage, “maybe we let it go a little too far, but I would never say no to you, I couldn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t know what the fuck to say to you after, but that’s exactly the reason I’m not good enough for you. The more we kept that fake dating shit up the worse it was gonna get, so I’m sorry, but I can’t keep spending time with you like that, because it’s starting to fucking hurt.”
“Hurt,” you say with a dry laugh, which almost scares him, “YOU’RE hurt? Give me a fucking break Eddie. I know you don’t see me that way. So what, you’re too scared to hurt my feelings? You’re doing a wonderful job, keep it up.”
“What the fuck do you mean, not see you like what?”
“Don’t pretend to be dumb Eddie. When we first met I tried so hard to get your attention, asking you to hang out, and you always blew me off. It’s fine that you don’t want to date me or whatever, but at least just tell me that, don’t fuck me like I’m special or something and then toss me aside. I deserve better than that.”
“Yeah, y/n, you do,” his voice was no longer guilt stricken, and was on the same straightforward plane as your last responses, “you deserve so much fucking better than me, that’s why I could never let anything between us happen. I don’t call girls back. I’m rude. I don’t take care of myself, let alone others. I like to smoke, and drink, and get head from girls in bar bathrooms and never learn their names, and that’s not the kind of person that a girl like you dates. I’m a fun quick fuck. You’re the kind of girl that after three dates he’ll already have a ring picked out. You’re everything, and I’m nothing, so forgive me for sparing you of that.”
Your bones are frozen and the beat of silence gives him the opportunity to spin on his heel and start down the hallway, presumably to get your panties.
Snapping back into it, you let out a louder than expected, “Hey,” and you start following him, not taking long to catch up to him in his bedroom.
“You,” you point a finger at him, and start to feel the rage bubble up again, “don’t get to decide that you’re unloveable. And you don’t get to tell me what kind of girl I am. Have you ever considered that maybe the reason you’re so lonely and miserable is because you choose to be? You don’t get to decide what I deserve, I do. And I really fucking like you Eddie, so forgive me for acting like it.”
You snatch your underwear off his bedside table, and give him a look, not fueled by anger or resentment, but empathy.
“I’m going to leave. And if you don’t want to see me again, that’s fine, but if you do, you can call me. Goodbye Eddie.”
You feel out of your own body, floating above it all and rewinding the conversation over and over, body on autopilot taking you home while your soul stayed behind and relived his words over and over, unsure if you feel better or worse than when you showed up.
Days pass by again, and you take his silence as more of a response than anything he had said to you during that conversation. You try not to wallow, but you feel scattered and distraught, at both the prospect of losing Eddie and having to deal with your shared friends, would they allow you to dance around each other, or would they flat out choose him and shut you out? Would group nights out bowling suddenly just turn into the occasional one-on-one coffee with Robin?
Until suddenly, on a random Tuesday afternoon when you've gotten home from work and are relaxing on the couch in your pajamas, three knocks are at your door.
At this point you figured it was over. He hadn't called and he'd made no effort to continue the dialogue. So a thought of Eddie doesn't even cross your mind in between the couch and opening the door.
And there he is.
In a suit, slightly descheveld in Eddie fashion, and holding a slightly wilting bouquet of flowers. Posture straight and brave face, but expecting your brutal edge upon answering the door nonetheless.
"Hey?" you're somewhat at a loss for words answering.
"Hi," he seems like he's running lines of a play in his mind, "I was hoping we could talk."
You reluctantly let him in, and he hands the flowers to you, as if it was a normal occurrence for him to bring you such a gift.
"First off," he starts, hardly breaching your living room entrance before starting his apology, "I regret the way we last left things, and I'm sorry for leaving you waiting for a response."
He flicks those big brown eyes at you and you can't help but give him the benefit of the doubt, he always was so sincere with his words.
"You're amazing. And although I'll remain adamant that I don't deserve someone like you in my life, I've been thinking a lot about what you said, and I'm sorry that tried to tell you how to feel."
You remain stoic at your seat on the couch, watching him shift his weight and bare his soul to you.
"You're perfect. Nice, funny, sexy, brave, all of it. And if you're willing to give me a chance, I don't know why the fuck you would, but if you are, I want to put aside all my bullshit and try this out, if you'll have me."
He stood there for a moment, letting you take in his request, bouquet in hand and suit adorned.
"And I owe you a few dates, for real."
As hard as you want your exterior to be, a smile cracks through.
"Okay, but know I don't fuck until the third date, at best," you jab, breaking his nervous exterior and visibly relieving the tension from his shoulders.
"I'm somewhat of a refined gentleman myself, so that won't be an issue," he bows and extends a hand to you.
You pull him down by the hand onto the couch with you, wrapping him up in a deep kiss. He was worth it, and you both knew it was worth the shot to try.
#eddie munson smut#smut#eddie x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#Eddie Munson smut#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things smut#eddie munson fem!reader
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"Oops" | Eddie Munson
pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader
summary: Part 1--Eddie "accidentally" sends a tasteful pic to his best friend.
warnings: mutual pining, pet names (sweetheart), strong language, description of naked Eddie
word count: 3.4k
Part 2
a/n: went a little crazy at 3am the other night and wrote this. Part two will be up later this week!! Luv y'all <3
*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******
Eddie is your best friend of many years, the two of you being inseparable from the moment you met. So when you got a text from him tonight you don’t think much of it, figuring it was just a dumb meme he saw or a random thing from today.
What you didn’t expect to see was a picture of Eddie standing in his bathroom, towel slung over his shoulders with a prominent boner happening.
His hair is wet as if he just got out of the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry it yet. The long dark brown locks stick to his neck and chest in a way that can only be described as godly. The tattoos on his skin are glistening but covered by the towel around his neck and as you move your eyes downward the path of hair that leads to his dick is delicious.
And talking about his dick it is, mag-fucking-nificent! The way that it hangs there, the tip swollen and red, leaking the smallest bit of precum. It has your mouth watering.
You nearly choked on your own spit when you saw it. Never in a million years did you think that Eddie would be sending you of all people nudes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wonder what he was packing but you never really indulged in those thoughts, until now. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen, memorizing every little detail in the photo.
Eddie sends another text but you’re too distracted to see what it is. Then a stream of texts start flooding in from him.
‘SHIT!’
‘I DID NOT NMEAN TO SNED YIU THAT!’
‘IGNORE THE PICTUREA’
‘HOW THE HELL DO I DELETE THE PIC?!?!?!’
‘GOD I AM SOSOSOSOSOSOSSOO SOORRY!!’
You giggle at his frantic typing, noting all the typos. Curiosity gets the better of you and you scroll up a little to see what he had said after he sent the picture. You’re eyes go wide at the words displayed on your screen.
‘Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. Jerked off twice while in the shower and I’m still hard. Wish you were here with me right now ;)’
You had no clue who this was really meant for but if it was meant for you you would 100 percent be on your way to him right now. The bottom half of the picture stares back at you as your eyes acan over the text again and again. You can’t deny the small hint of wetness that you feel on your underwear while looking at the two.
Twice? He came twice and is still hard. Whoever he thought about must be really hot if he can go 3 rounds without breaking a sweat. Could he go more?
Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone receiving a call, from none other than Eddie himself. You sit up in bed and pull your knees towards you as you answer his call.
“Sweetheart I am so so so sorry I sent you that. It was clearly meant for someone else. If I had known it was your contact that I was on I would have never sent that at all. I want you to know that I don’t go around sending nudes to everyone or anything, I’m not a slut I was just-”
“Eddie it’s fine. No need to apologize. I figured it wasn’t meant for me anyways.” It pains you a little at the thought that someone else was supposed to receive that message from your best friend.
“I’m still sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” His voice sounds smooth like spreading butter onto fresh pancakes.
“Hmm,” You fake thinking about what you want even though you know exactly what it is you want, “You’ve gotta tell me who that text was really meant for.”
Silence. For a whole minute there is just silence on Eddie’s end, you’d think he was dead if it weren’t for the fast pace of his breathing.
“Sweetheart,” The nickname is not helping the situation you have going on right now, “You don’t mean that. Can’t I just take you to breakfast or buy you a new outfit?”
“Nope.” You respond popping the ‘p’ as you say it. “Either tell me who it was meant for or I send it to the groupchat.” You were bluffing. You couldn’t let the others see him like that, that was for your eyes only. Not that anyone needed to know that.
“You wouldn’t dare,” His voice turned deep and threatening.
“Try. Me.” You challenge back.
Eddie groans, “Fine. You win,” A smile spreads across your face, “It was meant for Callie. This girl in my chem class, we’ve been talking for a little bit.”
You’re a mix of emotions right now; happy that Eddie found someone he’s interested in and took his shot, confused because he never told you about it, sad because you thought he trusted you with things like that, and slightly jealous because you want to be the one Eddie sent nudes to, purposefully.
“Sweetheart? You still there?” You completely forget that you’re still on the phone with Eddie until he says something.
“Uh yeah yeah I’m here. I’m um happy for you Ed. Glad you found someone. Look I gotta go to sleep, big test tomorrow, talk later. Bye.” You hang up before he can say anything else.
Why did you feel this way about all this? You shouldn’t be thinking of Eddie in this way, he was your best friend. Best friends don’t think about going down on each other, or the way it would feel to have his cock inside you, or the moans he would release when he finally cums in you.
You shake it off and lay back down, setting your phone on your nightstand to charge. You try for half an hour to fall asleep but your mind can’t stop thinking about that damn picture. So you unlock your phone and go back to your messages with Eddie, looking to see if he deleted the picture or not. And to your luck it was the latter, the picture and text below still there for your viewing pleasure.
You’re still horny from the initial thought of him so it doesn’t take long for your hand to wander under your shorts and underwear to your clit. The thought that your fingers were his and the way he would whisper in your ear egging you on to finish.
The images of him jerking himself off in the shower flood you, his hand on the cold tiles, water hitting his back as he fists his cock, rubbing it slowly at first but becoming impatient and going faster until he cums all over the wall and his hand.
The image of his face when he does and the moans that would leave his mouth is what throws you over the edge yourself. Wishing it were him between your legs pulling it from you not your own fingers. Finally your body is tired enough to let you go to sleep, dreaming of Eddie once more.
---
You’re sitting with Eddie and the rest of Hellfire at lunch a week later. Neither of you have talked about what happened that night, both too embarrassed to say anything.
Things were normal though, Eddie would pick you up and drop you off to and from school. You’d talk on the phone every night about whatever happened that day that the other wasn’t there for. You liked the thought that the text didn’t hinder your friendship but you can’t help but be a little jealous about Eddie fucking someone else. It’s not like you were expecting him to confess his hidden undying love for you the next day but the realization that Eddie really did send you that accidentally; hurt.
The freshman are talking about some video game coming out when Eddie lean over to you.
“Whatcha’ thinking about?” There’s a smile on his face, one that you always loved seeing.
“Nothing,” You go back to eating your fruit.
“Alrighty then. Hey I was wondering what time you wanted to come over tonight?”
Your eyes grow wide, mind going back to the text, “Why?”
“Um it’s Wednesday. Horror movie marathon night, remember?” His head cocks to the side a little, his hair falling into his face. It reminds you of a dog questioning what it’s owner has in their hand.
“Oh right yeah. Um I don’t know if I can make it tonight.” That was a lie, you had nothing going on. But being in the trailer alone with Eddie after knowing what he looks like naked is not what you need right now.
“Awe come on! I rented Scream, Saw, and Halloween for tonight. You can’t make me watch them all alone,” He lowers his voice and leans closer, “What if I need protection from the bad guys?” His big doe eyes large and pleading with you.
You roll your eyes and push his face away from you, “Ugh fine. I’ll be there, how’s 8?”
“Perfect! I’ll order the pizzas, do you think you could make those amazing cookies for us?”
“You mean for you?”
“No. I mean for us, I would never eat all the cookies myself.”
“You did like 3 weeks ago! There were 30 cookies there and I had none of them.” You stare at him as he thinks back to then.
“Nope don’t remember which means it didn’t happen. So will you?” There are those puppy dog eyes again.
“Whatever but I swear if you eat all of them again I’ll castrate you.”
Eddie’s hands fly to his groin, protecting it from your threat. “Ouch, sweetheart. Didn’t know you hated my dick that much.”
I don’t. Just hate that it’s not mine. You thought, but you just rolled your eyes and continued on eating lunch until the bell rang.
---
Eddie rushed around his room looking for his favorite shirt when you showed up for movie night. You let yourself in, per usual and set the cookies down on the coffee table before heading to Eddie’s room. He was squating in front of his closet when you come in, you don’t announce yourself just stand there staring at his back.
He got a few new tattoos since last summer, two of which on his back. A skull and crossbones along with a knife wrapped in barbed wire. You haven’t seen them in person yet, it still being too cold to sit out in the sun. But looking at them now was a pleasure, the detail popping out as his muscles flex.
Eddie huffs and stands, defeated about not finding the shirt he wanted. He turns around and finds you standing in his doorway.
“Jesus! Why didn’t you say you were here?” His hand is over his heart as he catches his breath from the unintentional jump scare.
“I texted you like 20 minutes ago that I was on my way. Figured you knew I’d be here soon,” You say as you enter his room fully to sit on his bed.
“I did not see the text, I was in the shower,” The mention of this brought back memories of the photo, and what you did whilst looking at it, “Anyways pizza should be here soon and I’ve got beers and soda in the fridge.”
Eddie walks around you to his dresser, grabbing a random shirt and throwing it on. You’re sad at the loss of his bare skin but quickly shake the thought away. You get up from his bed and head to his living room, Eddie following in toe.
“So what are we watching first? I’ve seen Scream a few times but the other two I haven’t seen,” Eddie remarks as he grabs two beers from the fridge, opening them before handing you one.
You mumble a thanks before taking a sip, the bitter liquid coating your tastebuds. “I’ve seen Scream and Saw but not Halloween. Heard good things about it though, at least that’s what Robin said, Steve had other opinions.”
“Lemme guess pretty boy hated it and wished he never saw it?” Eddie laughs as he sets up Halloween on the tv.
“Yeah pretty much,” You laugh along. The thought of your friend sitting there watching the movie curled up in a blanket next to Robin bringing a smile to your face.
Eddie finishes setting up the movie and walks back the kitchen. He grabs a bag of chips and some dip before returning to your side on the couch. He opens the chips and pops one in his mouth, crunching it loudly.
You smile at the normalcy of everything right now, it’s as if nothing ever happened between the two of you. Which if we’re being honest nothing really did happen, Eddie just sent you a nude on accident. It’s not like you kissed or anything. Not that you’d hate it if you did.
You snack on the chips and dip with him while waiting for the pizza to show up, never starting the movie without it. The two of you talk about nothing in particular while you sit there. Eddie tells you about the upcoming DnD campaign he’s been working on.
His eyes lighting up and hands flying around erratically as he explains what he planned, the animation in his character brings an even bigger smile to your face.
Just as Eddie concludes his explanation, inviting you to come sit in and watch it at the end, the doorbell rings notifying the both of you that the pizza was here and it was now time for movie night to begin.
Eddie pays the guy and happily walks over to the couch and sets the food on the table in front of the two of you, he can’t even wait til the movie starts playing to begin eating. You laugh at him as he opens and closes his mouth quickly trying to cool the hot pizza in his mouth, you just hit play and start watching the movie.
The pizza is gone, same with half the bag of chips and the cookies. Eddie actually let you eat a few of them before he scarfed down the others. You’re nearing the end of Scream, the third and final movie of the night when you look at your phone for the time. 12:25 stares back at you, you groan knowing that your parents are going to kill you for coming home so late on a school night.
Eddie hears you and turns to see why you made that noise. You just wave him off and go back to watching the movie, watching as Skeet Ulrich gets shot for the final time in the head. A few minutes later the credits roll and Eddie turns off the tv, letting the trailer fade into silence.
“Wanna tell me what that groaning was about?” Eddie asks turning to face you completely.
“Nothing, just didn’t realize that it had gotten so late. Parents are gonna kill me if I go home at this hour.”
“So just stay here,” He says with no hesitation, “You still have a few clothes here after last movie night. They’re just siting in my drawer.”
You think about it for a minute. You and Eddie have had sleepovers in the past, nothing special about them, just two people sharing a bed, occasionally cuddling because of the small size of it. But now the thought of it made you nervous, having him so close to you, so near yet not being able to touch him. It killed you, but it’s better than going back home right now and having your mom and dad rip you a new one.
“Alright, I’m gonna need to shower though. Coach had us run the mile today at practice and I still feel disgusting.”
“Yeah no problem, you go ahead and shower, I’ll clean up here.” He stands and starts clearing the trash from the table. You get up too and head into his bathroom, but no matter how hot the water is or how long you stand under it you can't get the thought of the picture and the words under it out of your mind.
He was right here, jerking off to the thought of someone. You scold yourself for thinking about him like that, again. But you couldn’t help it.
Recently you’ve thought about him more and more; his smile, the dimples that show when he’s really happy, how animatedly he talks, the way his hair is always unkempt but still looks so damn soft. You thought about him in ways you never did before seeing that picture; his arms, his muscles, his hands, his rings. Everything about him turned you on and you needed it to go away.
Eddie finished up cleaning and sat down on his bed, beer in hand while he took out his metal lunchbox for a joint. You walk into his room, towel wrapped around yourself, hair dripping wet from the shower. He stops his actions to just stare at you, the same way you did earlier that night.
“Uh could I borrow some clothes? I don’t have anything to sleep in,” You say wrapping your arms under your boobs, pushing them up ever so slightly.
Eddie clears his throat, “Yeah, sure.” He gets up and walks over to his dresser, rummaging through it to look for something you can wear tonight. He pulls out a pair on your underwear that you “left” there a while back and one of his Hellfire shirts. You denied his offer of some pants, saying they would be way to big on you and you’d rather just sleep in the shirt.
Eddie’s mind went straight to the gutter at that thought, you sleeping next to him, in just his Hellfire shirt and a pair of underwear he stole from you. His dick was growing hard just thinking about it. He quickly got back to looking for his joint and lighting it upon it’s appearance. He took a few hits while you changed in the bathroom, his mind slowly fogging over.
You return, hair still slightly wet with the towel in your hand. You toss it into his hamper before laying on his bed, grabbing his beer and taking a sip. You lay back and close your eyes, letting the serenity of this moment wash over you. Eddie offers you a hit but you decline, being that you don’t ever mix weed and booze together.
He finishes the joint while you finish his beer. The two of you just sitting there with the light sound of whatever record Eddie has playing. Your thoughts are quiet for the most part, just soaking in the time with your best friend, until you think of something. A question you’ve been meaning to ask for a little bit.
“Eddie?”
“Hmm?” He responds head leaning back onto the wall where a headboard should be.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, hit me.” You reach your hand out and hit him in the thigh.
“Ouch! Not literally, I meant with the question, sweetheart.”
“I know,” You giggle.
“Brat,” He mumbles back.
“Anyways, I was gonna ask -and you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to it’s just something I’ve been thinking about- but did you really not know it was me you were sending that picture to?” The words lay heavy on your tongue as you say them aloud. You’ve been thinking about this for a while, it’s hard not to.
How did he not know it was you he was texting, your name was right there at the top of the screen. And if he was sending it to someone else how could he not double-check to make sure he wasn’t sending it to someone like Wayne or Robin.
He’s quiet for a moment, thinking about the best way to tell you that, yes he did know it was you he was sending it to. And yes he knew it was stupid but he wanted to try something to see if you felt the same way about him that he does you. Eddie’s loved you for about a year and a half now, never saying anything to anyone in fear of running your friendship.
But that night he was watching a show and one of the characters did this thing where they pretended to send a text to someone “they didn’t mean to”, to see how they’d respond. He thought that maybe this was an easy way of figuring out how you felt about him. But when you didn’t respond to his photo or texts he got scared and called you. Needing to clarify what he sent, and why.
Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis
#eddie stranger things#munson#eddie munson#eddie my love#eddie my beloved#female reader#oneshot#smut#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x you#stranger things#stranger things 4#st4#stranger things season 4#eddie x reader
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Just Friends: Eddie Munson One shot
⚠️Explicit sexual content. Minors DNI⚠️
Summary: You have a friends with benefits situation with Eddie but he wants you to admit that he owns you.
Word count 1.8k
*****
"We're just friends, Eddie." you say for what feels like the hundredth time.
There was nothing about your relationship that was just friends. Late night snuggles, constant flirting and touching, Eddie's clothes basically belonged to you at this point. Not to mention the sexual favors. But you were always worried about changing the label to something more. Scared it would mess things up. But Eddie wanted more. And truthfully, so did you.
It had started with a drunken make out session one night, quickly turning to both of you needing more. A month later and you've touched each other in every way possible. Apart from going all the way. But you both wanted it. Needed it.
“Just friends." he scoffs, scooting closer to you on the couch.
"Mhmm.." you hum nonchalantly, keeping your eyes glued to the TV.
"Why won't you just admit that we're more than friends, baby?" he pouts, gripping your chin lightly, forcing your eyes to meet his. Those big brown eyes.
"Do friends do this?" he whispers, leaning in closer, his soft lips pressing against yours.
"Sometimes I kiss Trina when we're drunk." you tease and he chuckles against your lips.
“I'd like to see that." he smirks.
"I bet you would." you giggle and he shakes his wild hair before burying his face in your neck.
"How about this? Do friends do this?" he mumbles, planting wet kisses up and down your neck.
"Hmm.. maybe." you breathe, letting your head fall back to the couch, losing yourself in the sensation of his lips on your skin. Sucking and nipping. Driving you completely insane already.
"You're a brat, you know that?" he grumbles, biting down, his teeth sinking into your neck.
"Mmm, you like me this way." you moan softly as he soothes the bite with his tongue.
You inhale sharply as you feel his hand land on your inner thigh. His fingers graze along your skin until he reaches your already damp panties.
"Friends?" he raises an eyebrow, pushing the thin lace to the side.
You ignore him purposefully, gasping as his thumb meets your clit, adding pressure as he begins to tease you with small circles.
"Eddie.." you whimper, reaching out, gripping the back of his neck so you can pull his lips back to yours.
He moans into the kiss as you roll your hips, working to get his fingers inside of you. His tongue meets yours hungrily as he gives in and glides two fingers into your pussy.
You both pant into each others mouths as he speeds up his fingers, effortlessly bringing you closer to the high you were so desperately aching for.
He pulls away breathless, an immediate cry falling from your lips as soon as he parts.
"So close.. Eds, I'm so close." you whine, nails digging into the back of his neck as he curls his long fingers.
"Do friends do this, baby?" he hums deeply, working with precision, his fingers like fucking magic as he takes you right to the edge.
"N-no." you stammer. Eddie suddenly removes his fingers, leaving you pissed off and pouty.
“Eddie, what the fuck?" you glare at him.
"We're just friends." he chuckles darkly.
"You're impossible." you groan, quickly hiking your skirt up and straddling his lap on the couch.
You bring your arms around his neck, tangling your hands in his brown curls as you lower yourself down and slowly begin to grind. You feel his hard cock beneath you, making sure to grind directly on his dick.
"Don’t be a tease, sweets." he warns.
"I know you want me, Eddie." you purr, keeping your pace, rolling your hips slowly.
"Like.. all of you?" His taunting demeanor has melted into a puddle as you tease him with the one thing he hasn't had yet.
"Mhmm... you want to fuck me, Eds?"
"Y-yes." he stutters, his hands creeping up the back of your thighs, landing on your ass.
"We’re just friends, right?" you tease, adding a little more pressure to his clothed cock.
"Yep. Mhmm.. Just friends. Whatever you say." he blurts out happily, making you smile.
"Good boy." you taunt, watching as Eddie's eyes darken just a bit. His fingertips dig into your skin pulling you down even closer, the thin material of your panties allowing you to feel every curve of his cock.
"Someone's ready for me." you coo, reaching down and stroking him through his jeans. A rumble comes from his throat as you palm every inch of him.
"Are we- are we really gonna fuck?" he asks, excitement clear on his face. His big brown eyes are wide, a little pout on his plump lips as he waits for your answer. His large hands are still groping your ass. You stand up from his lap and slide your underwear off, letting them fall to the floor giving him a little nod.
Eddie grins widely, hurriedly reaching for his belt, unbuckling it with ease before wiggling out of his jeans. You climb back on his lap, keeping your skirt hiked up. You can feel him beneath you. Rock hard. Fucking huge. God, I can't wait to feel him inside of me.
You lean down to kiss him and he stops you suddenly. "I wanna see the girls." he grins crookedly, wiggling his eyebrows.
"You're so stupid." you shove his shoulder playfully as his hands pull at the hem of your shirt. You reach down pulling your Rolling Stones shirt from your frame, tossing it to the side.
Eddie's lips instantly latch onto your nipple making you moan. He brings his hand to your other breast massaging gently, rolling your nipple between his calloused fingers, sending a jolt straight to your pussy. He grabs your boobs, pressing them together as he swirls his tongue across both of your nipples, the throbbing sensation between your thighs growing with every flick.
"You're so perfect." he mumbles lustfully, his mouth exploring every part of your breasts. He takes his teeth, biting down softly, causing a sweet cry to fall from your lips.
You take his face in your hands, kissing him once again. The world seemed to fade away as soon as your lips made contact. It had become your favorite thing. Kissing him. Your tongues dancing together. His taste. The way he couldn't keep his hands to himself. He wanted to explore every inch of you.
You lift slightly, reaching under you, taking his cock in your hand. You keep your lips on his as you glide his head along your wet folds. You wanted to kiss him but you also wanted to hear him. His dirty sounds. You couldn't decide what would be better.
You keep your lips brushing against his as you gently lower yourself down, the feeling of him stretching you out already has your thighs shaking. Both of your lips part simultaneously, a gasp from you, a filthy fucking moan from him as you sink down and he fills you completely.
Your name leaves Eddie's mouth in a raspy moan as you start to roll your hips, feeling him deep inside. "Oh fuck, Eddie.."
“You feel so good.. ride my cock, baby. Just like that." Eddie's words of encouragement and the pure pleasure of him inside of you pushes you to increase your speed, grinding on his huge cock wildly.
You ignore the slight pain from his size, focusing on Eddie. Watching as he falls apart beneath you. His hand suddenly smacks your ass hard, the sting making you yelp.
"God, this pussy. I fucking knew you'd be sweet. So fucking good. So fuckin’ wet." he grunts as his fingertips dig in even deeper, guiding you up and down his length, making you bounce.
"You're.. you're so big." you cry, bouncing wildly, allowing him to enter fully every time, your slick coating every inch of him. Eddie begins to lift his hips, fucking up into you rapidly as you rest your hands on his shoulders. "F-Fuck.. yes.. Eddie!"
“You like that? You like when your friend fucks you?"
You just nod, unable to speak as he drives into you again and again.
"Do you let all your friends fuck you like this?" he taunts, swiftly picking you up, laying you down on the couch, his dick staying buried deep.This new position gives him leverage to really pound into you. His hands rest on either side of your face as he rolls his hips, slamming into you repeatedly, your boobs bouncing with every wild thrust.
You grasp for him, nails digging into his exposed skin, your eyes struggle to stay open as he takes you over and over.
He hooks your leg on his hip, gripping your thigh tightly, holding it in place as you sink deeper into the couch cushions.
"I- oh my god, Eddie!" his name pours from your lips on repeat as your eyes begin to roll.
“Fucking look at you. Mmm.. gonna make you cum all over my cock. You wanna cum, baby?"
You nod, pulling him closer, aiming to get his lips on yours once again. He brings his fingers to your clit, swiping across rapidly, sending your body into a fit. You grip his shoulders, legs wrapped around his waist, doing everything in your power to feel him as close as possible.
"Gonna cum.. cum with me. Eddie, cum inside me." you beg, tears flooding your vision from the immense pleasure.
"You want all your friends to cum inside you? Hmm?" he grunts, every thrust is rougher than before. Deeper. Harder.
“No, Eddie! Only you." you cry.
"I'm gonna fill you with my cum, sweetheart. Like a good friend does." he laughs wickedly, his words pushing you to the brink.
"Please..." you plead, tears streaming down your cheeks from trying to hold back. You want him to cum with you.
"You want me, baby? You want me to cum inside you?" In and out, in and out. He's hitting your sweet spot with every roll of his hips, his fingers never resting, quickly rubbing across your clit.
"Yes! Yes, Eddie please!" you scream, your legs shaking wildly, your back arches off the couch, bodies melding together.
"Tell me that you're mine." he burns.
“I'm yours." you breathe.
"Yeah? All mine? Say it again, sweetheart."
"I'm yours, Eddie! All yours!"
"Cum.. cum for me, baby. Soak my fuckin’ cock.”
You let go completely at his words, feeling the rush as your orgasm floods your body and you flood his cock. His lips are on you, kissing your lips, your cheeks, your neck as you spasm around his cock.
Mumbles of adoration and praise come from his plump lips as he fucks you to your highest peak.
"E-Eddie.." you whimper, still needing to feel him.
"Gonna cum, sweet girl." he hums before his lips land on yours, kissing you deeply as his thrusts get sloppy, wet sounds from your drenched pussy making him moan as he gives a few extra hard thrusts, emptying himself inside of you.
Your heart is pounding in your chest as Eddie continues thrusting slowly. Feeling the warmth of your cum mixed together.
"Yours, Eds. I'm yours." you reassure softly, watching that gorgeous smile spread on his lips.
"Fuck yeah you are." he cheeses, a shit eating grin plastered on his face.
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A request for you: hugging best friend!Eddie and he pops a boner. Do what you will with this information. - @munson-blurbs 💚
Recipes for Romance
Bestfriend!Eddie Munson x fem reader
Word Count: 2.1k
When your best friend comes home while you're cooking dinner and something happens. . .
Warning: 18+. Oral (m receiving), gagging, choking, masturbation, cum swallowing
Thank you @munson-blurbs for sending this in.. I do believe this is the best BJ I've written 💗💗.
Masterlist
It's funny how love happens. One minute you're friends with someone and then the next, you realize something fundamental in your relationship has changed. No longer were you childhood best friends living together in a small, two-bedroom apartment trying to make a place for yourselves in this world. Now, you were childhood best friends who live together but one of you has an unrequited crush on the other.
Simple chores around the house and just hanging out with one another have turned into something more domestic on your end. You could see yourself coming home to him so easily.
Really, what would change if you were to tell him? Nothing, other than he would kiss you when you came home instead of only giving you a hug and asking what was on the menu for dinner that night.
That's where you were tonight. In the kitchen, chopping up ingredients for dinner like usual, thanks to Eddie's lack of expertise in anything other than pizza rolls and microwavable macaroni cups. If it had been left up to him both of you probably would have starved by now.
It was nearing eight when Eddie strolled through the apartment door, guitar slung on his back and an amp being hoisted up in his arms. Oh, those arms. He was wearing a black muscle shirt, perfect for the summer heat and showing off the delicious-looking veins that protrude from them.
“Hey, Eds!” You call out to him.
He grumbles out, “Hey,” in response, and fumbles with his things all the way down the hallway behind you, to your right, and into his room.
It’s a few moments and chopped cilantro later that you hear his bare feet padding back to where you are.
“How was your day?” The question comes out smoothly, without a thought, because you had been asking him this same thing forever.
“Good," he answers. “I’m exhausted.”
“Well, it’s a good thing dinner's almost ready, then you can go to bed.” You move about the small rectangular kitchen area with the grace that comes with knowing the area like the back of your hand.
You’re stirring the warming spaghetti sauce so that it doesn’t burn to the bottom of the pan when you feel those same bare arms you had been lustfully gazing at only a short while before reaching around your hips. You stop, freezing your movements to focus on how not to let Eddie feel the racing of your heart.
His chin rests on your shoulder and his hair tickles your neck. “Smells good,” he mumbles.
You blush. You know he’s talking about the food but you wish he were talking about you. It was always nerve-wracking for you when he got clingy like this. Knowing you couldn’t just relax into him how you wanted. Having to hold yourself back from turning your head and giving him a peck on the lips.
Eddie continued to watch you cook, nuzzling his nose deeper into the crook of your neck. You were hyper-aware of his lips on your bare skin and you were even more aware of growing hardness pressing against your ass.
Your face heats up even more as you think to yourself, ‘Why god? Why do this to me?’ It’s a struggle to keep stirring the food when all your attention is focused on your best friend's dick. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, the movement has Eddie humming into your neck and making him harden even more.
One of his hands unwraps from around you and grips your hip. You can feel his breathing becoming more labored as he struggles behind you.
You reposition yourself once more, this time pushing back into him just a little. Eddie can’t catch the strangled moan that flies up from his throat.
“Fuck.” His lips move across your skin like a hot branding iron, saying your name breathlessly.
“Eddie?” You question innocently.
“Hum?” He replies.
You push the saucepan back onto a cool part of the stovetop and turn the once-in-use eye off.
“Are you…” You can’t bring yourself to say it out loud, but he knows your silent query.
It takes him a moment to say anything. He swallows hard and nods. “Yeah. Shit, I’m sorry.” He squeezes your hip with his large hand and begins to back away.
“Wait!” Your voice is louder than you had anticipated it to be but the urgency in it stops Eddie before he is fully separated from you. “Eddie, wait,” you say much softer this time.
He stops, the tips of his fingers barely touching you. You turn around in his light hold, eyes staring up into his. Your heart is beating a mile a minute as you say, “I can help with that y’know.”
Eddie sputters, seemingly choking on air. “W-what?” His face blushed a deep red and it flushed all the way down his neck.
Taking a breath, you try and calm yourself down. Those six words can’t be taken back now, but why would you want to do that anyway? The thought of his hard cock filling your mouth was the only thing running through your mind and now that a chance had arisen, you were going to take it.
“I said,” You trail your hand down down down until you are cupping him over his jeans. “I can help with that… Unless you don’t want me to.”
Eddie’s eyes go wide and he opens and closes his mouth like he’s trying to find the words to say only to be left mute. Instead, he nods his head, letting his curls cover his face.
You turn your bodies, pushing him up against the counter, and with less practiced grace than moving about the kitchen, you begin to undo his pants. His breath catches and he looks away from you for only a moment when your hand dips past the waistband of his pants.
“Oh god-” He swallows.
Ever so slowly you begin your descent to your knees, taking his pants and boxers down with you. The sight left before you makes your mouth water and your legs clench. He looks painfully hard, the tip flush and a bead of pre-cum pooling at the slit. You ached to run your tongue over the vein protruding down his shaft, you needed to have his balls in your mouth.
So, that’s what you do. From base to tip you lick a fat, wet strip up him. His hips jerk forward, one hand caught in your hair, and the other holds on for dear life to the edge of the counter. You lick again and again, over and over.
“Fuck-,” your name falls from Eddie's lips in a whimper. That sound had your stomach flipping and your pussy fluttering. You needed him to do that again.
You start to pepper kisses along his shaft, ending at his head and giving it one big smooch before opening and taking him into your mouth.
Eddie tugs on your hair at the first experimental suck that you give him. You can't help but moan at the slight pain. Taking him a bit more you suck again, gentle and with little force.
"Ah-." There it was, that whiny sound.
You bring your hand up to wrap around the length of him not nestled in the warmth of your mouth. Giving him a firm squeeze you begin to move. Up and down, up and down. You follow your hand with your mouth.
The hot and tangy taste of him spreads across your tongue and pre-cum just dribbles out of him. Really, it makes you salivate, it makes you wet. And what really turns you on is knowing that this is your best friend. This is the guy you've known since forever. The guy you never thought you would ever be doing this with.
It made you hungry for more, needy, and unsatisfied. You dip your head further down, lips meeting your fingers at his base.
"Oh God. Oh fuck." Another strangled whimper followed by the prettiest grunts and groans. Your other hand, resting on Eddie's thigh, could feel how his leg tensed with every suck, with every nudge of the back of your throat. Then he jerked forward again. His cock buries deep into your throat.
You choke and gag around him, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth and falling down your neck. Tears sting in your eyes but you let him thrust into you.
Eddie says your name like a prayer. It flows from his lips in a melody only for you. He’s got your hair fisted in his hand, fingers digging into your skull. Your own fingers dig into his strong thighs. Then, he lets you go and you pull away fast for air. A string of drool connects your lips to his cock.
“Eddie,” You say as you look up at him through thick lashes and heavy eyes.
“Mmm.” He hums, head falling to the side.
“You taste so good. Want you to cum down my throat.”
He looks down at you in such a way that you think you can see something other than love for a friend. Something more potent, something like what you feel for him. It makes the breath catch in your lungs.
Eddie releases his grasp on your hair and smooths his hand down and onto your cheek. His thumb rubs light circles into your skin. You lean in more, scooting closer to him on your knees, ignoring the numbness in them.
The cheek he isn’t touching rests on his thigh and you continue to look up at him as you take his cock fully in your hand and start pumping.
Eddie bites his lip but that doesn’t stop the moans. “God damnit, baby…”
He’s never called you that before. Sure a pet name here and there, sweetheart or something of the sort, but never baby. The name had you aching with need and it only took a few more high-pitched whimpers from Eddie to have you shoving your other hand down your shorts.
You were drenched, wetness pooled in your panties and around your fingers as you swiped them through your folds. You trail your lips down to his balls and kiss them before sucking one into your mouth.
There is a moment when you think Eddie is going to fall on top of you. You feel his knees buckle and his feet shuffling to keep himself upright.
You let go of him with a pop and then take the other into your mouth, warming him and running your tongue over the skin.
“Fuck fuck fuck. Baby- mmm,” Eddie can’t keep quiet and you don’t want him to. The louder he is, the more it encourages you.
After a few more pumps of your hand, you move your mouth back to the tip of his cock and take him deep. This time when he hits the back of your throat, you don’t gag as bad but tears still swell in your eyes. You let him buck his hips into you, following his rough pace with your hand as you rub your fingers into your clit.
“Gonna cum baby, fuck gonna make me cum. Such a pretty mouth." Eddie blubbers. "Fuck I love you, baby. Gonna fill that mouth up. You gonna swallow all of it, baby?"
You hum around his cock at his words. Heart beating faster and safer as your own orgasm begins to come forward.
With a hand buried in your hair again. Eddie pushes you down onto his cock, nose pressed against his abdomen and drool spilling down your chin. You feel him twitch and watch through tear-rimmed eyes as his head falls back and his mouth hangs open. Eddie lets out the most lewd-sounding moan as he releases his sticky, hot cum down your throat.
You swallow and swallow, consuming all that he gives you. Your hand still works between your thighs and in a gush of pleasure, you can feel your release dripping over your fingers.
Pulling away from Eddie, his cock now softening, you catch your breath. You move to sit more comfortably on the floor and lean your forehead on Eddie's left knee.
"Wow…" Eddie heaves out. "That was- that was fucking amazing." His grip eases in your hair and then he's adjusting himself back into his pants before sitting on the floor with you.
"Look at me?" He asks. You're avoiding eye contact with him, embarrassment of the actions and words just exchanged flooding through you.
"Sweetheart, please look at me." He pleaded.
That name had you looking timidly through your hair. Those big, brown eyes caught yours and in that moment you knew that another fundamental piece of your relationship had changed.
No longer was it two childhood best friends living together with one having a crush on the other. No. It was now two childhood best friends who loved each other in every way, who were once too scared to say anything lest they break up the friendship.
#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#bestfriend!eddie munson
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Another virgin Eddie idea - g spot stimulation with reader/squirting ❤️
anons stay giving me a reason to continue this saga on, my god. you know how to grasp me!
pairing | eddie munson x fem!reader
warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), squirting, fingering f receiving, mutual masturbation, praise kink
word count | 1.5k
a/n | as a fellow water cannon this request jumped out at me quite literally and i couldn't rest until i wrote it. this is set in between parts 2&3 of our series so eddie is currently still (mostly) a virgin.
How this began is hazy to you in your current state of pleasure, two fingers deep in your cunt and thumb rubbing over your clit lazily as your eyes drink in the sight of Eddie quickly and tightly fisting his cock across from you.
It'd started as a dare almost, you egging Eddie on to touch himself in front of you like he would watching one of his old porno tapes that you just knew he had stashed somewhere in his trailer. You just didn't expect him to actually do it.
His bed was small and you were almost knocking knees even though yours were bent up almost at your chest and he was also somewhat squashed, thighs spread slightly to leave you some kind of room.
You're naked from the bottom down, you'd made quick work of shoving down your own jeans and panties to make Eddie feel more comfortable. To begin with you'd simply done it so he had some kind of material to work with, but you got so riled up from watching him that you couldn't resist touching yourself too.
"God, even with your own hand wrapped around your cock it still looks massive," You gasp, crooking your fingers to rub against that spongey spot, keening into your own touch and arching your back.
Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, head thumping against his headboard, at this point unable to look at you any longer because he knows he's going to blow his load so quick. His cock looks angry and red, begging for release as it shines with a mixture of precum and your spit - you'd grabbed hold of his hand and spat directly into it, wanting to help him along.
"Hey, pretty boy, look at me." You demand, kicking Eddie slightly with your foot in annoyance and his head snaps up pretty quickly in response, wide eyes automatically looking straight at your dripping cunt, "Want you to watch me come, Eddie."
Eddie nods shakily and you double down your efforts to chase your orgasm, continuously rubbing your gspot and circling your clit in faster circles. You're a moaning mess, whining and keening into your own touch, your belly tightening and beginning to radiate an inner heat almost like the feeling of a full bladder.
The slick noises of your fingers on your wet pussy and Eddie's hand on his dick, his own throaty and strangled moans tangling with yours in the most delicious way has your back arching as you let the feeling wash over you.
It's always so intense when this happens, your own body forcing your fingers out of your cunt as you come, fingers working fast circles on your clit as your release shoots out of you, creamy and wet, dripping down your folds all the way to your ass, completely drenching the material under you.
You gasp in sharply, squeezing your eyes shut as you shudder through it, legs shaking and tummy muscles contracting. Though they flicker open once you hear Eddie cursing in front of you.
"Fuck - fuck, shit, fuck," Eddie's moaning and gasping, arching in on himself and coming hotly all over his fist not even a second after you as he watches you gush all over his comforter, soaking it. You don't miss the way his own come shoots up the front of his shirt, Eddie ever the amateur and not knowing how to aim away from himself.
"Bet your porno girls don't do that." You quip once you come back to yourself and Eddie slumps down a little, you lean forward and grabbing hold of Eddie's come soaked hand, bringing his fingers to your mouth to suck them clean.
You make a stupid show of it to rile Eddie up, looking him dead in the face, sucking his fingers down to the knuckle an slurping over them properly, licking at them like you would his cock. He's looking at you all dumb and awestruck, wet eyes glistening with admiration.
"What - what was that?" He asks quietly, nodding towards the wet patch below you, "Don't tell me I'm into you pissing all over my sheets."
You bark out a laugh, releasing his fingers from your mouth with a pop, "No, I didn't piss on your bed, Eddie. I squirted." Your tone is teasing, almost condescending as you explain yourself to him, which would annoy most men but you can't ignore the way Eddie's cock kicks up at you talking to him like he's dumb.
"How'd y'do that?" Eddie's so sincere that it makes you want to squish his cheeks and coo at him, it's so cute that he doesn't know much about the female anatomy but is willing to learn anything new that you show or tell him about.
"You wanna try?" You ask, cocking your head to the side and smirking, "I can usually do it more than once if I try hard enough, though I have no doubt your fingers will get the job done, handsome."
"Can I?" Eddie's eyes light up and his cock rises slightly, already half-hard just from the thought of touching you. You nod your head at him, spreading your legs again to let him get a good look at your cunt, glistening wet and still dripping.
"C'mere," You motion towards him with two fingers and he shuffles forward so he's situated between your spread thighs, dopey smile on his face, "you can start with two fingers. Remember the spongey part I told you about the first time?"
Eddie nods, already running his pointer and middle finger between your folds, stopping to rub at your sensitive clit before running back down to your entrance, breaching just ever so slightly with the tips of his fingers.
You sigh in pleasure, the feeling of his fingers already so much better than your own, "You just pump your fingers in and out only a little bit, keep your fingers pressed against the spongey part, 'kay, Eds?"
He nods again then sinks his fingers in to the hilt, a gasp escaping your mouth at the intrusion but god it felt good. Eddie finds your gspot rather quickly, crooking his fingers and rubbing over it relentlessly.
"You're so fucking good at this, Eddie," You cry, your own fingers slipping over your clothed nipples and rubbing at them, "please don't stop."
Eddie can't tear his eyes away from your wet cunt sucking in his fingers so well, the squelching sound like music to his ears and your moans only adding to it. He's fully hard again and can't even find it in him to be embarrassed, loving the way he could elicit this reaction from you.
You feel your second orgasm building a lot quicker than your last, Eddie's fingers a constant as he assaults your soft spot. It doesn't help that you're watching him look in awe at your pussy like he's never seen anything better, all doe eyed and sex stupid.
"M'gonna come, fuck, Eddie!" Your voice is fucked, you're louder than usual as your orgasm crashes over you, cunt clenching down on Eddie's fingers then forcing them out as you squirt again, this time somehow more than the first, shooting so far it drenches Eddie's bare thighs and his hard cock.
"'Atta girl, well done. You're so good." His soft voice has you whimpering and keening into him, shock coursing through your body at how unexpectedly dirty it is whilst he rubs at your inner thighs, soothing you through it.
"Dirty, talk to me like that again." You moan, leaning forward to grasp at Eddie's arms and tug him until he's hovering over you, hot breath fanning your face and chain dangling near your mouth, "Slide your cock in it."
Eddie furrows his brows, all confused at what you're saying, "You want me to... rub myself against you?"
"Yeah," You smile up at him, orgasm drunk and feeling a bit reckless, "it'll feel good, I promise."
You slip your hand down to grasp at his length, sliding the tip between your soaked folds and Eddie has to lean forward and brace himself on the foot of the bed, a feral moan escaping him.
He ruts against you a few times, sliding the length of his cock up and down your cunt, gliding wetly from your release, "You're so wet," his voice is hoarse and his words earnest yet sounding so dirty, "soaking me so good."
You nudge at Eddie a little and then capture his lips with yours for a hot, wet and dirty kiss and he's gone, coming hot on your pussy and you feel it running down you, mixing in with your own release and pooling at your ass.
Eddie pants into your mouth, hand gripping onto your waist tightly to hold himself up, "You're gonna be the fucking death of me, sweetheart." He groans, looking into your eyes with this adoration you had only seen a few times before, "Thank you."
"If you came that hard from just sliding it around wait until you actually fuck me." You giggle, always having to get the last word in and make it as dirty as possible. Eddie grimaces, but it gets lost when you lean up and kiss him again, pulling him down with a tug.
#you anons keep me GOING i swear#just when i think i'm almost done with this i get reeled back in#will virgin!eddie ever leave me in peace?! no#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#virgin!eddie#virgin!eddie munson#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female!reader#stranger things imagine#stranger things fic#fem!reader#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn smut#joseph quinn x you#joseph quinn fic#my fanfic
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— 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?: 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬
+ 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝: multiple stranger things men
+ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mature
+ 𝐜𝐰: explicit sexual content
+ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: so…i’m back. It’s been so long since i’ve posted the first dick analysis, and i just couldn’t resist doing one for the stranger things men! this is just a filler post until i finish writing some of my requests and outlining the first few chapters of my eddie munson series. until then, please enjoy this, i had a lot of fun just spewing all of my whore thoughts into this >.<
+ part two here !
+ 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: the small font is a stylistic choice. if you are having trouble reading, i suggest you adjust your iphone’s settings!
eddie “the freak” munson
↻ length: the social pariah, eddie munson, is many things. he’s loud, obnoxious, witty, and…a freak. yeah, he roleplays with 15 year old kids, and yeah, he very well may be a super senior–having repeated the 12th grade three times–but those things don’t really make him a freak. no, the thing that makes him a freak is the unnecessarily long, heavy piece of meat that swings between his legs like a pendulum.
coming in at just about 6 inches flaccid, and 7.5 inches fully erect, eddie takes the cake for this lists’ third longest dong.
↻ width: eddie’s a pretty skinny guy, and so, his dick’s probably not much thicker than a febreeze bottle. but it’s okay, because skinny dick, is still good dick.
↻ color: he’s pale but it’s definitely a little tanner than the rest of his body. i’d say it’d progressively get darker the closer it gets to his tip (which is a beautiful mauve-y color that darkens when erect).
extra:
↻ groomed: it’s the 80s, and he’s a metalhead with a wild mane of hair on his head, so naturally, i think he’d rock a little bush. just a little one, but on occasion, he will tackle it with some scissors and trim it down a bit.
↻ curved: oh, god, yes. deliciously curved to the left with a plump, mushroomy head.
↻ veins: duh! two thick veins that begin underside the shaft and split into a fork just beneath the head.
↻ how he uses it: gonna just go ahead and say it, and this may be controversial, but i honestly think eddie would love putting you in a full nelson. now before you scrunch your nose in disagreement, just LISTEN. he’s such a skinny motherfucker but i just know there’s some muscle under those black skinny jeans and tees. i mean, we all saw that scene where he pinned steve against the wall with a broken beer bottle to his throat—albeit because he was defending himself—but that’s neither here nor there. eddie fucks, and he fucks good.
steve “good hair” harrington
↻ length: steve is a ken doll personified. except, unlike a ken doll, there’s actually something down there besides a flat surface—so rest assured, you won’t have to worry about bumping purses when doing the woo hoo. but here’s another controversial opinion: steve doesn’t have a big dick—it’s average, and that’s okay!
steve’s dick rests at a firm 5.3 inches flaccid, and a good 6.5 inches erect. not too big, and not too small. just…perfect, like him.
↻ width: for what he lacks in length, he makes up for in girth! yeah, you’re getting 6 inches, but he’s hitting you with that stretch—and it burns, but in the best way imaginable.
↻ color: the prettiest boy in hawkins has to have the prettiest cock, right? i think it’d be pretty light in comparison to the rest of his body. when i think of him, i feel like he’d be one of those guys who are kinda tan but when they take off their pants, they have the most bizarre looking tan lines ever, and their ass is brighter than the moon! anyway, i digress; it’d be pretty pale with a mean, red tip when aroused, and strawberry pink when it’s soft.
extra:
↻ groomed: yes. he keeps it really simple. shaves it down real low but not enough to the point where he’s bald.
↻ curved: as straight as a pencil
↻ veins: has one on the top of his shaft that wraps around the head
↻ how he uses it: we’re talking about steve here. steve the womanizer, steve the public enemy and panty dropper of seasons one through three. he’s all about that doggy style life. don’t let his himbo persona in season four fool you, that man is a whore! he likes to get down and dirty, and if that includes you on your hands and knees, with your face shoved into the sheets while your tears drip down onto the sheets…then, so be it.
billy “ima turn you out” hargrove
↻ length: i am not a billy hargrove enjoyer but i can’t sit here and lie to you, i just won’t. that silly little fella’s got a cock the size of a bull…
8.2 inches.
no, i’m not taking criticism. he’s big, end of story.
↻ width: the length matches the girth, sis. if you think you can take him—you can’t. and if you think i’m kidding—i’m not. think coke bottle, but longer.
↻ color: tanned to perfection, because of course it is, he was a lifeguard for god sake!
extra:
↻ groomed: like steve, he keeps it pretty well trimmed. although, sometimes, he lets it grow out so he can show off his happy trail. and a sight to see it is!
↻ curved: oh my days, it curves to the right—like a lot. a real captain hook.
↻ veins: absolutely covered in ‘em, but the most prominent one resides on the side of his shaft and if you really look at it, it kinda looks like a little lighting bolt.
↻ how he uses it: you can’t have sex with billy and expect intimacy, that just isn’t happening. he likes it with absolutely no strings attached and no eye contact. so, expect to be thrown into all types of obscure positions, his favorite of which includes you with half of your body hanging off the bed and him pounding mercilessly into you from behind. honestly, as long as billy gets a view of your ass, he doesn’t really care.
jim “big zaddy” hopper
↻ length: the biggest dick on this list. a true monster cock, that is it, that is all.
but if i had to give a specific measurement…9 inches. whether that’s his measurement soft or erect, i’ll let you be the judge of that.
↻ width: he’s so thick that he’d probably split your pussy open if he didn’t properly prepare you, and even then, you’d still never be prepared enough :(
↻ color: i’d say it would be one or two shades darker than his complexion, and the head is definitely not pink. more like a rouge mixed with a little brown.
extra:
↻ groomed: jim just gives grown man, you know? like obviously, he is one, but i just think there’s something so sexy about a man with body hair! so, i don’t think he’d keep it well trimmed, or trimmed at all for that matter. and if he does decide to take a pair of scissors to it, it’s very, very rare.
↻ curved: surprisingly, no. it’s straight, but extremely heavy and he has big man balls to match.
↻ veins: yes, just like billy, they’re all over. with a dick as big as his, he’s gonna need all the veins he can get to transport the appropriate amount of blood to it.
↻ how he uses it: very traditional, very cute and sweet. likes to fuck in missionary because he’s a real man, and he prefers to look into his lover’s eyes while pleasuring them. however, that doesn’t mean he’s a prude. if he wants to, he could put you in a full nelson, but he usually just opts for something that won’t throw his old man back out :)
© all content belongs to arachine 2022. no reposts, modifications, plagiarizing, or remaking of any form without proper credit.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson smut#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x reader smut#steve harrington smut#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove x reader smut#billy hargrove smut#jim hopper x reader#jim hopper x reader smut#stranger things x reader#stranger things x reader smut#stranger things smut
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Tommy POV, wc: 2890, full version on ao3
Tommy Hagan is not jealous of Eddie Munson.
He’s not.
There’s nothing to be jealous of, in his opinion, and Tommy probably wouldn’t be thinking about him at all if Eddie wasn’t the most publicly well known member of his graduating class – well, he hadn’t actually been in his graduating class, Tommy supposes.
They had been seniors at the same time, though.
If Tommy happened to be jealous of anything – and that’s a big if – it would probably have something to do with the famous thing. Everyone has a small part of them that wants to be famous at least in some capacity, he’s pretty sure, even if Eddie isn’t really, truly famous – not like the red carpet celebrities. He’s a writer. Even the most well known writers never get all that much attention, but Munson has his own Wikipedia page, and that’s more than anybody else from Hawkins, Indiana can say. Hawkins itself barely even has a Wikipedia page, and it’s only because of all the atrocities that happened in town in the mid-eighties.
Tommy hadn’t been around for the end of it all – the earthquake-slash-serial killer situation that never made any sense to him. He remembers his mom calling him at his college dorm when the deaths first started. He remembers her asking, “You went to school with that Munson boy, right? Do you think he could do something like this?”
And Tommy had been twenty and a total moron, so he’d said some dumb shit like, “Yeah, he’s into freaky stuff like that. Somebody should’ve put him on a list ages ago,” even though four years of experience told him that Eddie was all bark, no bite. Tommy hadn’t been surprised at all by the statements that later came out clearing Eddie's name, and by then his parents had already high-tailed it out of Hawkins so it all sort of became irrelevant to him.
Tommy never even returned to Hawkins one single time after he left for college (barring his high school reunion, obviously), and twenty years after graduation, he doesn’t really think about those years all that much.
He doesn’t love the person he’d been in high school. He was whiny and immature and had his priorities all messed up. Most of the memories he has of his teenage years, he looks back at and cringes, feels a whole lot of shame and embarrassment, but also some pride at how much he’s grown over the last twenty years. He also knows he’d been kind of a dick in high school, but that he’s less ashamed of. It’s normal, he knows, for kids to be mean, that it’s a standard response to being untreated kindly in other ways. Like, his dad had been an asshole to him as a kid, always on him about his grades and his smart mouth and how he’d no longer been a standout on any of his sports teams after starting high school, and Tommy had coped with that by poking kids beneath him at school.
It’s just the pecking order of high school. It’s normal.
Even now, when Tommy’s son had dealt with some pricks in the year above him shoving him around, he had come home from school and tormented his little sister for a while – it’s normal, no matter how much his wife had tried to convince him it was something that needed addressing. It’s just kids being kids. They grow out of it eventually, just like Tommy had.
Occasionally he wonders where the kids he’d spent all those years with in the Hawkins public school system had ended up, but these days the internet makes that pretty damn easy to figure out.
He’s learned Tina got married and had kids real young. She still lives in Indiana. Carol, who he’d split up with before heading off to college, lives in Alabama now and she’s got kids and a husband too. Jonathan Byers is a photographer in California – Tommy isn’t into all that art-y crap, so he has no clue if he’s any good, but he definitely recognizes some of the organizations he’s worked for and if that’s any indication, Tommy would wager he’s not too shabby. No wife, though, he noted, so he’d either been right about Byer’s being a queer, or women just found him repulsive (admittedly, Tommy leans more towards the former – he’s a photographer). Tammy Thompson still lives in Tennessee, though it doesn’t seem like she does music anymore (husband, kids, blah blah blah).
If he’s honest, the only person Tommy is actually interested in tracking down is Steve Harrington, and he’s the one person Tommy can’t find a single trace of online. No MySpace, no Facebook, no weird blog thing, nothing.
Vaguely, he wonders if Steve might be dead. A truly massive proportion of Hawkins had died over just a few short years in the mid-eighties. Maybe Harrington was one of them.
Tommy doubts it.
He would have known.
Steve’s parents would have made sure everyone knew if their son had died. Funnily enough, Steve’s mom is actually on Facebook, and pretty actively too, but there’s no sign of Steve anywhere on her page.
He hadn’t even shown up for their high school reunion in the winter of ‘04, which is odd because Tommy had been certain he would.
He doesn’t obsess over it – he really doesn’t. It’s just a thought that pops into his mind every now and then – where the hell is Steve Harrington?
In the late spring of 2007, he gets his answer.
“Tom,” his wife says, “That guy from your high school is on the cover of this magazine.”
He knows without asking for clarity that it’s Munson – no other person makes sense – and when he eventually gets his hands on the magazine, he finds that he’s correct.
Eddie Munson is on the cover of a magazine because, apparently, he published another book.
Truthfully, Tommy already knew that.
It’s his fourth book (which, for the record, Tommy hadn’t known until he knew it because it’s not like he’s keeping tabs on this guy or whatever), and it’s been getting a whole bunch of mainstream attention after a controversial landing on the top of all those book charts Tommy doesn’t follow despite featuring a gay love store amidst all his normal fantasy crap. It sparked a whole debate about banning books and everything (dumb, Tommy knows, because if he learned anything in business school it’s that if you really don’t want something to exist, the best thing you can do is not funnel money and attention into it).
Tommy does, in fact, watch the news so he’d already caught wind of all this – it’s part of the reason he can’t shake the guy – and it’s why Eddie Munson is on the cover of this magazine (because, seriously, nobody gives a shit about writers until it hits the news).
He allows himself a moment to look at the cover, to look at Eddie, who apparently goes by Ed now. Tommy is loath to admit it, but he looks good. His hair is normal and he’s grown into his frame, not all long and lanky and gangly limbs like Tommy remembers from school. He looks well-fed, confident, happy.
He looks good.
Tommy thumbs through the first few pages of the magazine until he reaches Eddie’s interview, and, again, he allows himself to look over the photo of him that takes up nearly three-quarters of the first page even if he has no intention of actually reading the article itself because, again, Eddie looks good (and maybe there’s something about the scruff of facial hair along his jaw that Tommy's eye gets stuck on). Tommy’s allowed to say that men look good when it’s true – it’s 2007, as his wife likes to remind him whenever it’s convenient for her, and if she’s allowed to say that Angelina Jolie looked good in that CIA movie, then Tommy is allowed to say that Eddie Munson looks good here.
When Tommy flips to the next page, he’s met with a photo that stops him in his tracks, has his feet frozen to the floor because –
Jesus Christ, that’s Steve Harrington.
Fuck, okay, so he’s reading this fucking article.
It takes Tommy a long time to get through it, honestly. Eddie comes out in the article, which might be a big deal, might not (and he doesn't care to be enlightened, thanks). He keeps getting distracted by the pictures scattered throughout it.
The pictures of Steve, mostly.
Because, well, if Eddie Munson looks good, Steve…
Steve looks alive.
Tommy didn’t realize it until this exact moment, but Steve had existed in his head for the last two decades as the eighteen-year-old he’d been the last time they were in the same room together. It hadn’t exactly occurred to him that Steve’s been aging this whole time too, just like Tommy has.
It’s undeniable that Steve is older.
His hair is starting to go gray at his temples (it’s the only thing that’s changed about his hair since he’s still styling it the same as he did in high school – because why mess with a good thing, Tommy supposes) and he’s got just the hint of crow's feet around his eyes when he smiles. He’s smiling in all the photos – every damn one – and it has Tommy struck by how unbelievably happy Steve seems. It’s an effect that somehow both takes years off the age Tommy knows he is and shines a light on just how good those years must have been for him.
There’s no solo shots of him like there are for Munson – though according to the article, it's actually Harrington now – and only half the photos are in color. The rest of them – the more candid ones – are smaller and left in black-and-white.
The one that caught Tommy’s eye first – because it was meant to, he’s pretty sure; it takes up half the page – is right in that sweet spot between staged and candid where Steve and Eddie both know that they’re being photographed even though neither of them are actually posing. Eddie is grinning at Steve in a wicked way that still feels familiar to Tommy even two decades since he’d last seen it on him (probably swaggering around the cafeteria like a total jackass – not that Tommy would know anything about that). Steve is grinning right back at him with a smile Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.
Or maybe he has, but not on this version of his face, not since Steve was as young as his oldest daughter.
Just as the author of the article said, the photos don’t show the faces of Steve’s children, either leaving them artfully out-of-focus or choosing shots where they’re turned away from the camera, but they’re still present, and it makes the whole spread almost feel like a photo album in a way, like it should be private but instead was published for the whole world to see.
Steve has three of them – kids, Tommy means. He didn’t know that Steve was a family kind of guy. It makes sense though, when he thinks about it. Steve’s parents were kind of a nightmare — present in the worst ways, and absent in the worst ways too (though it hadn’t seemed that way when Tommy was a teenager looking for a failsafe party house). He'd always felt kind of bad for the guy. Like, Tommy's dad had been a total piece of work, but they'd at least been around, and he'd stuck around long enough for them to sort out their issues at least most of the way, and these days he's a pretty kickass grandpa to Tommy's children.
Tommy wonders about Steve's parents now, wonders if they maybe came around like his own parents had, but then he remembers Mrs. Harrington's Facebook page and how there's not a damn trace of her son on there, never mind three grandchildren.
Tommy isn't sure he wants to touch that.
Steve is probably a really good dad, Tommy decides. He’d been kind of that way when they were friends — Steve used to say he wasn’t all that bright, but he always had a freaky sixth sense for reading people, for caring about them in exactly the way they needed.
There's one photo where Steve is managing to holding his youngest daughter — a tiny little baby still — and her bottle in one arm (that's a level-three dad hold, Tommy knows). The bottle is angled in a way that obscures her face, and Steve's other hand is being tugged on by another daughter, this one with a mop of curly brown hair remarkably similar to Eddie's when it was still long.
That's another thing Tommy won't let himself think about, (because he knows if did he'd start wondering if any of those kids were half-Steve).
Anyways, Tommy doesn't need glance to see that Steve wears fatherhood like a favorite sweater.
There’s something about this, about seeing these pictures, about the way Tommy is getting an answer to that question he’s had for years about where his childhood best friend has been all these years, that is making him feel like his ribcage is being split open, bones splintering and shattering as everything vulnerable inside his chest in suddenly out for display.
He probably should feel uncomfortable, right? Like, a guy he’d been seriously close to growing up — sleepovers and gym locker rooms and all that shit — had turned out to be gay. If his own son came home from school saying that his best friend came out or whatever as gay…well, again, it’s 2007, and Tommy doesn’t think his wife would allow him to denounce the friendship entirely, but there certainly wouldn’t be any sleepovers anymore. He thinks that’s pretty reasonable.
What was the likelihood that Steve had been, like, into Tommy?
And that should be an uncomfortable notion too, and in a sense, it kind of is, but not necessarily in the way he would expect.
He just doesn’t understand why all this feels so much like a loss because he knows that he hasn’t really lost anything – not since he got his hands on the magazine, anyways. Steve Harrington hasn’t played any sort of role in Tommy’s life since their final falling out in 1984, and as far as he’s aware, having a falling out with a close friend is pretty much a guaranteed part of growing up. His wife even experienced something similar when her own grade school best friend suddenly stopped answering calls and stopped reaching out after they’d started college – and his wife is basically the nicest person Tommy has ever known, so…it happens to even the best.
It’s just…Steve had always continued to exist in Tommy’s life in a way, even if he wasn't physically present, and maybe Tommy had figured it could be the same for Steve too, that maybe he sometimes wonders where Tommy is, wonders what he’s up to.
This article and these photos makes it pretty fucking clear that Tommy doesn’t even exist in the same galaxy as the life Steve is living.
And that’s not to mention the Eddie fucking Munson of it all.
Tommy had been kind of ignoring the Eddie of it all until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, because he doesn't care about Eddie Munson.
He'd never cared, but he'd spent years seeing the guy's face and his name everywhere, and now it feels like a sick joke, like he's the piece of Steve left in Tommy's life.
If the article is accurate (and he has no reason to believe it isn’t), Steve and Eddie have been together for longer than Tommy has even known his wife. Steve has been with Eddie for longer than Steve was ever friends with Tommy – not by a lot, but still more. That’s a long fucking time, and it’s clear as day on both of their faces that they’re just as in love with each other fourteen years in as they were on day one.
It’s not just Steve, and it’s not just Eddie, and it’s not one more than the other. It’s both of them.
There’s one photo in particular – a small black-and-white one that keeps pulling Tommy’s attention.
It’s another candid shot, taken from a bit of a distance. In it, Steve has Eddie boxed in against the counter in what has to be their kitchen. Eddie is leaning back against the edge of the granite countertop and looking at Steve with something sappy and fond on his face, and Steve’s hands are this close to grabbing Eddie’s waist as he looks at him the exact same way.
It’s shit out of a fairy tale or something, and sure, maybe someone could argue that they’re laying it on thick just for the sake of the magazine or whatever, but Tommy knows Steve Harrington and that look on his face is more real than Tommy had ever seen in all the years he'd known him.
So maybe Tommy has a reason or two (or three or four) to be jealous of Eddie Munson.
#unreliable narrator!tommy hagan my beloved#the ao3 version has the interview btw#steddie#liv’s steddie dads verse#steddie dads#steve harrington#eddie munson#tommy hagan
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16+ (gn) Dating Eddie Munson is:
Sharing a big bag of chips and Eddie catching your wrist and sucking on your fingers to get off all the crumbs that are stuck to them.
Eddie sneaking up behind you, pushing his icy fingers up your jumper and laughing hysterically when you cringe and shove him away.
Baking together and both of you shoving your fingers into the mix to taste it when the other isn’t looking. Taking turns to lick the spoon clean.
Smacking Eddie’s ass every time he bends over.
Trying to throw food into each other's mouths and then fishing crumbs out of each other's hair.
Eddie saying ‘Good yawn’ or ‘Good burp’
Alternatively, every time you yawn for a long time he’ll stick his fingers in your mouth.
If he’s too tired to make it to the couch after work, he’ll collapse on his knees in between your legs and face plant into your lap.
He doesn’t have an ulterior motive, apart from when he does, he just likes to be close to you. He claims you recharge him.
Fake wrestling
He likes to bend at the waist when he runs towards you like he’s about to tackle you, but instead, he lifts you off the ground and spins you around.
He’s an embarrassment at the airport if you ever need to go somewhere. Going and Coming back.
Going he’s a blubbering mess.
Returning he’s a blubbering mess, plus he’s delivering a monologue like you’re returning from war. You have received a ‘thank you for your service’ before because of his dramatics.
The first time you fly together, he won’t admit it, but he’s terrified.
Will always pretend you need to hold his hand, rather than him needing to ask for it.
Wearing an old comfy pair of underwear with a small hole or tear? Eddie finds that hole and digs his finger in to make it bigger and bigger. Likes that it gives him easier access. Will pull you towards him by the hole.
Like’s to have his hand down your pants just for comfort. He won’t even do anything just rest/cup his palm against you.
If your is hand in or up his boxers? He’s dead. In heaven.
Goes feral when you rake your nails down his thighs or his happy trail.
Hair-washing nights morph into self-care days, helping with his curls and painting his nails.
Insists he does your eyeliner if you’re putting any on. Will straddle your thigh like a heathen and pretend he’s not borderline humping it while holding a pencil dangerously close to your eyeball.
He believes in love boners.
Wants a cat, but you’re worried about the responsibility so you get fish to get into the habit of feeding something daily.
You both have names for the racoons that live in the trailer park and will gossip about what you saw them getting up to that day
Air guitar contests
Eddie writing you love letters in detention
Walking Eddie to the bathroom at parties when he gets too drunk. Holding one of his hands, the other wrapped around his waist.
Sometimes he has literally asked you to hold his dick while he pees because he’s either too drunk to do it himself or thinks it’s funny.
He’s a little fucking gremlin,
Your little fucking gremlin,
You love it.
masterlist
#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x gn!reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x you#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson headcanons
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Ten Things I Like About You (one-shot)
Synopsis: There is one rule for Y/N to accept Jason Carver's advances: if he wants to go out with her, the jock has to name ten things he likes about the resident 'Freak'Eddie Munson. Can he do it?
Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader
Warnings: swearing, Jason being a dick as usual, nothing else I can think of (minimally edited)
Genre: fluff mainly
Word count: 3085
DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY WORKS ON OTHER PLATFORMS WITHOUT SPECIFIC WRITTEN PERMISSION!!!
Y/N Y/L/N was an enigma at Hawkins High. Not unpopular by any means, but didn’t run directly in with the ‘it’ crowd either. She was friends or at least friendly with most of the cliques, but even with the ones she didn’t interact with, she didn’t bully or look down on them, simply coexisted without any problems. Eddie thought it was probably why he’d started to crush on the girl.
Typically, she’d be sitting by the cheerleader table, her and the Queen of Hawkins High Chrissy Cunningham being as thick as thieves unless Nancy Wheeler had taken some time off from their newspaper to come and eat a bit, but starting from a couple of months ago, from time to time, he’d find the girl by his Hellfire Club table. She wouldn’t bother them, wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t even look at them, simply sat down and started to push around the sludge-like mashed potatoes or scrutinize the way-too-orange looking mac‘n’cheese on her plate.
At first, Eddie wanted to snark at her, wanted to tell her to get lost, but the day Y/N had first taken a seat at the far end of their table, he’d noticed how she’d closed her eyes for a moment, took in a deep breath and exhaled. And then, when she did open her eyes – it was like a giant boulder had come off her shoulders. And he understood it. Maybe not exactly what or why she felt that way, but he did, and Eddie’d be damned if it didn’t make his heart skip a beat at the thought, she felt safe around him and his bunch, safe enough to let down her guard like that.
Slowly it had become a routine. Seemingly whenever Y/N had too much of something, she’d take a now unofficially assigned seat at the right end of their table and just sit there. She’d throw them a small smile and a wave, then pull out her Walkman and put the headphones on, disconnecting her from the surrounding world, and Eddie had sort of taken it upon himself to make sure Y/N enjoyed her forty minutes of peace unbothered. Maybe he’d sometimes let Robin Buckley or Chrissy take her out of the zen state, but for anyone else, Eddie would give the most menacing and crazy look he could muster, so the person tucked their tail between their legs and turned the other way, leaving the girl alone.
This was one of those days where Y/N needed to get away from the crowd, it seemed, as Eddie watched how her shoulders and back tensed more and more with every second the guys from the basketball team spoke around her while she sat next to Chrissy, before something in her snapped. She placed a gentle palm on the other girl’s hand, squeezed it and stood up, taking her food tray with her, as well as her book bag.
Loud “oh, come on, Y/N!” followed her, but she didn’t even look back, rather gritted her teeth so as to seemingly not let out whatever it was, she wanted to actually say.
With a deep sigh, she dropped the bag on the ground, and a bit more carefully placed the red plastic tray on the table as to not let the questionable meal of the day slip off.
She was wearing a pair of light baggy jeans, some graphic tee of an obscure-looking indie movie printed on, tucked behind the waistband and cinched with a black belt while a knitted patchwork cardigan kept her warm in the still somewhat cool spring winds.
Y/N looked comfortable, and that was also one of the things Eddie liked about her. She didn’t really follow the newest fashion trends. Sure, her clothes were mostly styled in a way that reflected whatever was in at that moment, but she did it in her own way. Eddie was pretty much sure, he’d seen that cardigan on her all throughout high school. She didn’t hide behind clothes to create a persona, she used that and make-up, or on some days none of it, to enhance who she already was.
“Shit,” Y/N muttered under her breath, bringing Eddie out from his thoughts as her fork clattered below the table.
Grumbling, she put her Walkman away to lean down and grab it, but the freshman Mike, who’d Eddie had recruited for the D&D club, beat her to it.
“Here,” the boy mumbled, and Y/N flashed him a grateful smile.
“Thanks. But I probably should get a new one. I don’t think I’m brave enough to put anything in my mouth that’s touched the cafeteria floor. Don’t want to be the cause of the new Black Plague or some shit.” She snorted. “Besides, I’ve made it to the end of my senior year. It’d be quite pathetic to kick the bucket like a couple of months before that.”
“Not as pathetic as repeating the senior year, over and over again,” Eddie chuckled from the head of the table, but Y/N didn’t laugh along with him at his self-deprecating joke.
“Just because someone’s not academically skilled, doesn’t mean they’re pathetic.” She was frowning. “I’ve heard you play, Eddie. You’re amazing. I have no doubt that when you get out of this hellhole, you’ll do big things. Just… just don’t give up yet, don't write yourself off like that.”
Eddie was one hundred percent sure he was blushing like a madman, but the soft smile she gave him made his heart soar at her kind words, let alone at the fact she had heard him play and had said he was talented. The man was just about ready to combust from the love in his chest.
Truth be told, Eddie was also academically inclined, it’s just that whatever the school threw his way couldn’t hold his attention for more than a second. He was excellent at math because of D&D, but when it came to finding the x on a Pythagorean theorem, he was lost because there was no intrigue behind it. He was an amazing storyteller, but his grammar wasn’t the best, and his handwriting was even worse, so most of the time even he couldn’t figure out what he’d written on the page, getting himself a fat D- for the unintelligible scribbles.
“Shit,” Mike muttered, bringing Eddie out from his daydreams and making him look up at the freshman, but his eyes were trained somewhere over Y/N’s shoulder.
Slowly he followed as she glanced backwards, and groaned as they noted Jason Carver walking up the Hellfire table, the whole club growing stiff and frowns etching themselves onto their faces.
“Not one single day of fucking peace,” Y/N mumbled under her breath and rolled her eyes.
“You okay?” Eddie leaned closer to her over the table. “Just give the word and I’ll tell him to fuck right off from here. I have no problems making a scene.”
“No.” She sighed, stabbing the fork into the food with a ferocity, Eddie could only imagine it was someone’s face. Hopefully that someone's that was sauntering their way. “Don’t. The shit he does and says to you is bad enough, so please don’t add any fuel to the fire on my account. Sorry, by the way.” She grimaced. “For all of that.”
Eddie shook his head. “It’s not like you’re saying those things, which by the way, thank you.”
Y/N frowned even more. “You shouldn’t be thanking me for being a decent person. Fuck how low has the bar gotten exactly?”
His snort made her lips quirk up in a smile, but all of it was wiped away when Jason cleared his throat.
For a moment she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, as if gathering her self-composure, before turning around in her seat with a raised brow. “Can I help you, Carver?”
“I just - uh - look.” Jason gave Y/N the most charming smile he could muster. “I know the guys can be a lot with the teasing, but I actually came here to say that honestly maybe we should do it, you know...”
She looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Should what?”
“Go on that date. I mean I think we’d look pretty cute together.”
“Yes, well, some people think hairless mole rats are cute, but you don’t really argue about taste,” Y/N deadpanned and once again Eddie snorted.
Jason threw him a scalding glare. “Something funny, freakshow?”
“Carver,” she snapped. “Seriously?”
The basketball player’s hands balled into fists, but it seemed like he knew throwing a punch at Eddie would be completely counterproductive. “Okay, look.” He averted his eyes to Y/N. “Can you just come back and sit with us? At least away from… them? I know that all of this,” he gestured towards the Hellfire Club. “Is just an act, okay. I know you’re trying to play hard to get, but at least do it with someone of your own status.”
“My own status? Who the fuck do you think we are?” the girl scoffed. “This is high school, Jason, not the Queen’s court.”
“This shit’ll follow you after high school, Y/N.” Jason looked up and down at Eddie as if he was vermin. “I’m just trying to help you make the right choices.”
Honestly, Eddie wasn’t even listening to what the asshole was saying as he watched in fascination as a plan developed in her head.
“You know what, Jason, you are right,” she said. “I will go out on a date with you, and I will never talk to anyone at this table. In fact, I'll never even walk past here again.”
Well, there went any chance Eddie had.
“If…”
Oh.
Y/N’s eyes met his. Eddie gulped, watching her stand up and slowly saunter away. His heart was beating a mile a minute and even though he didn’t have asthma, he was sure this was how an asthma attack felt, breaths coming in shorter and shorter as Y/N stood behind him.
For a second there was non-verbal communication between the two, as Y/N asked with her eyes if he was alright with her touching him, and he gave her a barely-there nod. Then her palms slowly settled on his shoulders before sliding over them and down and down his chest until she had her chin perked in the crook of his neck, her fingers intertwined right below his pecks, and oh, God, Eddie was gonna pass out.
He was desperately trying not to squirm because if there was one place on his body that was ticklish, it was his neck and collarbones area, but Eddie would stay still like the dead if it kept Y/N’s chin on his shoulder.
She was hugging him, her breaths tickling his neck, as his mind whirred, not even able to process any words coming out of her or Jason’s mouth, the rest of the cafeteria background having turned into white noise. All that existed was Y/N’s scent, and her touch, and her body weight pressing against his back and oh god, oh god, oh god.
“ – isn’t that right, Eddie?” Y/N’s voice invaded his ears and he blinked rapidly to get back to reality.
“What?”
“I said a guy should prove himself to a girl before asking her out, right?”
Eddie swallowed, and nodded, his eyes unable to break from Y/N’s gaze. “Right, yeah. Of course. Definitely. One hundred percent.”
“So then.” Y/N looked at Jason. “Don’t you think you’d have to prove to me I wouldn’t waste my time with you?”
Jason had his arms crossed, glaring at Eddie as he sucked on his teeth, probably trying to figure out a hundred different ways as to how to punch in his nose, but reluctantly looked at Y/N.
“Name your price, Y/L/N.”
“You, Jason Carver, have to name ten nice things about Eddie here. And you have to say them like you mean them.”
Jason let out a laugh, and the rest of the gathered basketball team mimicked him. Eddie hadn't even noticed his goons had gathered to watch the spectacle. “What? I meant something I can actually do.”
“I can start.” Y/N shook her head and smiled as if she was oblivious as to what he’d meant. “But obviously you can’t use my examples, you have to come up with your own. For one.” She turned to the side and looked Eddie directly into his eyes. Yep. He was for sure dead. Had to be. Or definitely was going to be because he wasn’t breathing. Was his heart still working? He wasn’t sure. “I absolutely love how you can play the guitar. I think it’s amazing. It takes dedication and skill to keep up with something like that. And well, I’d say it certainly means you’re good with your fingers, which is an added bonus girls definitely appreciate.”
You know what? If lightning struck him then and there, Eddie would be completely fine by it. Was he a massive virgin? Yes, very much so, he’d never even fingered a girl before, but holy shit, he’d play the guitar until his fingertips bled, if what Y/N said was true, especially if that was her opinion.
“Come on, Y/L/N.” Jason let out a chuckle of disbelief, but Eddie could see he was seething underneath, and it was very much so an enjoyable sight. “Stop playing. Tell me what I actually have to do to get you on a date with me and away from these lowlifes.”
Y/N simply shrugged, pressing her cheek against Eddie’s, pouting as she did so. “What do you mean? I already did – name ten nice things about Eddie. It can be about his looks, what he’s good at, how he’s helped someone – anything. Here’s an easy one – his mind is absolutely brilliant. You have to have amazing imagination to come up with such complex Dungeons & Dragons campaign plots, and I think he’d make an amazing novelist if he put those ideas on paper.”
“He’s a freak.” Jason finally snapped, sneering with as much venom as he could muster. Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if he actually was a snake underneath that skin and hair gel.
Y/N snorted and straightened out, but her palms remained rested on Eddie’s shoulders and he couldn’t help himself but settle his own over hers. Their fingers intertwined and she squeezed his palm in response. He was in heaven.
“And what, you’re not?” Y/N scoffed. “Jason, you’re obsessed with chasing an orange ball around a court like you’re a fucking dog who needs to hear ‘good boy’ every time you almost put it in the hoop. You think you’re so nice and all when you’re the most judgmental piece of shit I know. I asked you to name just ten nice thing about Eddie, and you couldn’t even pull some bullshit one out of your ass, but I definitely can name ten things I hate about you starting with the fact that you’re so high up your own ass you can’t take ‘no’ for an answer. I don’t care about sitting next to you, let alone going on a date with you. The fact that you can’t see beyond your own prejudices, makes me know I did the right choice by telling you to go screw your hand the first time around.”
“You’ll regret this,” Jason sneered. “I’m trying to save you, can’t you see? You’ve been sitting with them so long it’s started to corrupt you.”
She raised her brow. “Will I? Because from my standpoint my future looks pretty a-okay. And saved from what? A fantasy game? You think an elf is gonna chop my head off in the real world? Or some orc's siren-like voice will lure me to my doom? Get a grip, Carver, and get out of my face before I smash it in for you.”
Jason was absolutely seething, his face flushed red while his chest heaved up and down, throwing one final look at Eddie who had a satisfied smirk on his own. “Just you wait, Y/L/N, and you’ll see the true nature of these – these Devil worshippers. And when you do, don’t come crawling back to us.”
“Jason, if you had the last glass of water on earth and I was on fire, I’d rather be consumed by those Hellish flames you’re afraid of than go near you with a ten-foot pole.”
And just to add the cherry on top, just to piss him off even more Eddie wiggled his fingers in a ‘bye-bye’ motion.
For a moment, Jason stammered, clenching and unclenching his fists as if readying himself for a pounce, but even with the whole basketball team behind him, he’d been humiliated by Y/N already, and if Principal Higgins came in to see a brawl, he'd surely believe the girl's version of the story, mainly because Chrissy Cunningham would a hundred percent stand by her best friend.
Eddie was sure he’d pay for her sticking up for him later, and no doubt Jason would find a way to make Y/N’s life a hell, but for now, they celebrated, as Carver turned on his heel and stalked away, the whole of Hellfire erupting in cheers and whoops.
“I’m so in love with you,” Eddie breathed out and Y/N threw her head back in a laugh. He swore it was the most beautiful sound in the world before he realized he’d said his thoughts out loud.
“Yep, and you said that out loud too.” Her smile was blinding, as she took the offered seat at Eddie’s side one of the boys sliding further, instead of retreating to the one at the end of the table. “But it’s okay. I – uh – I kinda like you too. It’s what made putting Jason in his place double the joy.”
Fuck it. It was high-time he shot his shot. “So, if I asked you out on a date would you tell me to go and screw my hand or would you give me a chance?”
She rested her chin on her palm, giving him a coy smile. “Well, can you name ten things you like about me?”
Eddie leaned in closer, their noses almost brushing, wide grins on both of their faces. “Baby I have a whole list – would you like to hear it alphabetically or by the dates I noticed them?”
“Your pick, Eddie.”
By the time he walked that graduation stage and flipped Principal Higgins off, he hadn’t even gotten to B yet as the list was ever growing.
So was hers.
Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):
Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstranger
A/N: :)
P.S. Eddie tags are open if anyone wants to be tagged in future stories, HMU or leave a message under the fic :)
#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#netflix stranger things#stranger things cast#Stranger Things Spoilers#joseph quinn#joseph quinn imagine#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn x y/n#joseph quinn x you#joseph quinn fluff#eddie munson fluff
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Baby blurb idea: Eddie accidentally calls you his wife instead of girlfriend in front of you, his friends, and band
thank you for your request! rockstar!eddie x fem!reader
Eddie's band is doing so well, and you couldn't be more proud of him. Watching him on stage every night despite listening to all the same songs is never boring. He brings an energy you've never seen before. It doesn't hurt that he's hot.
The after parties are twice as fun as the shows 'cause you get to be by his side. You're usually stuck under his arm like a clinger, but tonight he has his fingers linked through yours. You can feel the guitar string cut on his thumb brushing the back of your hand. It's gotta hurt. He doesn't once slow his ministrations.
"Hey, guys," he says, tugging you toward a small group. Eddie's best friend Jameson stands across from him. Everyone says hello, and a couple of people have praise and jokes to make about Eddie's performance.
"It was fucking sick," says a man with the longest natural blonde curls you've ever seen. "You were better than you promised, Munson."
"Hey, thank you." Eddie brings his second hand to your shoulder, squeezing as he says, "Have you guys met my wife?"
You blink. Jameson laughs like a dick and nods voraciously, worse when Eddie's face turns pink pretty much immediately. The blonde haired man looks around the circle in confusion as to what's so funny, perplexed by the roaring laughter that's erupted.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand?" he says tentatively.
You squeeze Eddie's hand. "It's okay. I'm Y/N, we haven't met before, have we?" You pull at threads, making an educated guess. "You're in Swallows Against Swallows?"
You can viscerally feel Eddie's gratitude. The conversation jumps through hoop after hoop until they're talking convoluted music theory that you don't understand. You perch on the couch behind you and leave Eddie to it, your joined hands an unbreakable tether. He checks on you periodically, and after a half hour of this he dips down to talk in your ear.
"Do you wanna go home?" he asks.
You're bored out of your mind but you'll sit by his side at the gates of hell if it would make him happy, this is child's play. "No, baby, you keep talking. Maybe I'll go find some girls to talk to?"
He shakes his head, his dark curls fanning out to grace your cheek. "God, please stay."
You beam. "Alright. Anything for my darling husband."
He kisses your forehead twice in quick succession. His hand creeps up your arm and he stays there for a few very affectionate, unfortunately public seconds.
"Shit, I'm gonna make it a reality one day," he murmurs.
You preen under his attention, his thumb rubbing circles against the veins in the crook of your elbow. "I'll be waiting."
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#rockstar!eddie munson#rockstar!eddie#rockstar!eddie munson x reader#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fluff#stranger things fanfiction
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Roomies 3
Eddie Munson x Best friend!reader | ~2.3K
One & Two
Summary: It’s the perfect solution. You need a place to stay, he needs someone to help with the rent.
In this chapter, expect lots of talk about sexual stuff, but no actual smut. Have you ever unwittingly picked out a super sexy movie to watch with a friend you're attracted to and regretted it? There are spoilers for the film Basic Instinct, but that film is probably older than most of the folks in this fandom.
---
Eddie doesn’t close cupboard doors. Not completely, anyway. There are times when you walk into the kitchen and find at least 5 separate cupboard doors slightly ajar. You think he doesn’t realize he’s doing it - either that or it’s a fully conscious decision. There can’t be an in between scenario. Every time you enter the kitchen, you absentmindedly make your rounds, closing each door until you hear them click into place.
Eddie thinks you’re playing a cruel joke on him, because he has yet to make it through an entire day without stumbling across at least one pair of lace underwear hanging in your shared bathroom. Red, yellow, black, and purple so far. His curiosity gets to him every time he sees a pair, and runs the fabric between his fingers. One morning he couldn’t stop himself, he pulled the black pair hanging from the hook on the back of the door and dropped his boxers. He expected the material to be scratchy against his sensitive skin, but was pleasantly surprised at how gently held he felt. He groaned when he felt his cock stirring against the lace, and quickly took them off to put them back where he found them. He had to get to work, he didn’t have time for this kind of self discovery.
“What are you up to tomorrow night?” Eddie’s asking the question before he’s even fully stepped foot into the living room where you’re sitting cross legged on the couch eating a bowl of grape nuts. His nose crinkles when he peeks into the bowl and sees the brown cereal. “You might as well just eat the gravel from the parking lot.”
“Fuck off,” you say around a mouthful, “sorry it’s not Fruity Pebbles or whatever.” You scramble to not spill your bowl when Eddie plops himself down right next to you. He’s staring at you, waiting for an answer, “I was planning on staying in and watching a movie. Why? You’re working, right?”
Eddie pinches the spoon out of your hand and scoops a small bite of Grape Nuts into his mouth. He wrinkles his nose again, “Nah, Joey needs some extra cash, so I told him he could take this Friday.”
“God, stop stealing my food, you dick. You don’t even like it.” You reach for the spoon, and he giggles and holds it away from you, “Come on, Ed. Knock it off.” You put the bowl on the coffee table, and straddle his lap to reach the utensil. He puts one of his hands on your hip to try to hold you in place. He’s still giggling, but you see his smile falter when he sees that he’s eye level with your tits. No bra, just a black tank top. You slump down onto his knees and he hands the spoon back over to you, and the hand on your back falls away. He’s doing that thing he does, he’s got a piece of hair pulled over his mouth. Shy.
Eddie clears his throat as you sit back in your own seat and pick up the bowl like nothing just happened. “So, how about you and me tomorrow night? Hang out with your good buddy like we used to do before I started having to clean your hair out of the shower drain?”
“Pffft,” you stir your spoon around the now mushy cereal and set it back down on the table without taking a bite, “I’m sure your hair never ends up all over the bathroom.” You pinch a curl between your fingers and give it a little tug. “But, yes please. Movie night with me?”
Eddie’s eyes are soft when he really smiles, and right now you feel yourself wanting to fall into them. Not for the first time, you think of how easy it would be to get lost in them if you’d allow yourself to do that. They sparkle. From this angle, you can see thin amber colored lines that you’ve never noticed before now. How much more could you find if you could both stay in this moment?
You break contact and drop your hand from his hair. You didn’t realize your fingertips were dancing along the edges of his curls. It’s your turn to clear your throat. You stand and walk to the kitchen to rinse out your bowl.
“Well, Angel,” Eddie’s voice carries through the doorway while you’re at the sink, “it’s a date. You, me, Family Video, and burgers from Hank’s.”
A date. You smile at the thought and call back, “sounds good, lover boy. Better bring me some chocolates.”
—
“Jesus, Eddie. Where’s the fire?” You’re clutching the “oh shit” bar as he cranks the wheel into an empty spot in front of the video store. “I swear to god, one of these days you’re gonna give me a stroke.”
“Relax. I’m not the one that’s gotten into multiple accidents in the last year.” Eddie snarks back. He cranks the emergency break and hops out of the van before you can respond. He’s right, but you’re more unlucky than a bad driver.
It feels good to be with Eddie like this, it’s been a long time. Somehow, over the last few months you’ve been spending less and less time together, and the new living arrangement has put a weird kind of pressure on your otherwise happy and close friendship. There’s tension - you know what kind of tension it is, but you haven’t been able to actively acknowledge it yet. You haven’t even admitted to yourself that you’re finding excuses to be in the hallway when Eddie’s walking from the bathroom to his room after a shower. Wet curls brushing against pale skin. Black ink and shiny rivulets of water.
Eddie’s voice snaps you out of your private reverie, “what are we thinking? Do not say When Harry Met Sally, I can’t take it again.” You giggle and Eddie shoots you a warning look. It’s your favorite movie. The last time you watched it, he joined you. He cried like a baby.
“No, I’m in the mood for something different. Let’s walk the route.” You hook your arm in his elbow and steer the both of you to the corner just inside the entrance. You’ll do the route - new releases, thrillers, and comedies - starting with A and going all the way through Z of each section before making a final decision. This is how things are done, it’s how the two of you have always done it. You both point out movies along the way you’d be willing to watch, and make a mental list. You’ll consider each option at the end.
“Come on, Eddie, it looks cute,” you’re pleading your case for Bennie & Joon, but you already know it’s going to fail. Eddie’s toe is tapping impatiently and his eyes barely glance at the movie cover.
“You’re just horny for Depp, don’t deny it.” Eddie reaches out and picks up the plastic VHS case at his side. His number one choice, and you know exactly why he wants to see it, “What about this one? You like thrillers.”
You grab the box out of his hand and look at the girl on the cover of Basic Instinct. “Oh, I do like thrillers. Especially when they’re starring a hot blonde.” You cock your head to the side and hope he goes shy on you about it. He chooses indignancy.
“Oh, come on. If it’s hot, that’s just a bonus. We could go with Sliver, but it’s got the same issue. I can’t help it if Hollywood only casts hot blondes in thrillers.” Eddie’s standing with his hands on hips and a bitchy look on his face, and it makes you giggle to see. You can’t help it, you want to give him what he wants, even if it means you watch a trashy movie with a hot chick in it.
“You win this round, Munson. But you owe me a milkshake.”
Eddie does a little fist pump in triumph, and grabs the box from your hand. He’s at the counter in a flash, grabbing a box of Whoppers on his way. Your favorite.
—
Eddie regrets his film choice very early on, but he’s not ready to admit it. He should have let you get your way, because the tone of Basic Instinct raises the heat between the already blazing temperature. Benny and Joon wouldn’t have opened with a sex scene that made Eddie half hard, at the very least. The graphic violence did nothing to stop the way his mind began to play a vision of you on top of him, his mouth reaching out to your nipple in the same way the doomed man did with that faceless femme fatale on the screen.
“Well, at least he got off,” you reach for the popcorn bowl on Eddie’s lap and grab a handful. Somehow, you seem completely unaffected by the scene that just played out in front of the both of you, “can you imagine coming like that while there’s an ice pick in your eye?”
Eddie shifts uncomfortably and huffs a short laugh. He moves the popcorn bowl to the coffee table. It’s self preservation, he can’t deal with you reaching your hand that close to his dick, even if the bowl is doing a decent job of hiding his erection. Except, you take that move as a signal to scoot closer and rest your head on his shoulder. A familiar position that you’ve taken countless times before, but tonight Eddie is very aware of the body heat your cheek is radiating through his lightweight cotton shirt.
To your eyes, the film is well acted. Beautiful people lying, killing, fucking - an absolute romp. The sex scenes stir your guts, you take short mental snapshots to store away for later. You hide your smile from Eddie, but you’re keenly aware that his entire body is tense. Every muscle is tight, but you’re too good of a friend to point out the way he has to wiggle his hips every so often to hide the tightness in the seat of his pants. You try not to make mental notes about the scenes that make his breath hitch, but your stupid brain can’t stop itself.
“Oh my god, it’s the therapist?” Eddie sits up straighter at the twist in the story, forgetting about the weight of you at his side. You slide down, and reach out to pull the blanket at your feet over your body. “I knew there was something about her.”
Eddie turns to look at you, the blue glow of the television illuminates one side of his face while the other - the side closest to you - is still hidden in shadow. Poor boy. You frown sympathetically, and cup his cheek with your hand. He’s perplexed by your reaction, but you shake your head and snuggle back into him. This time, you rest your head on his chest, you want to hear the way his breathing and the way his heart beats from here out.
—
“How the fuck did you know?” Eddie’s head is in his hands, thinking about where he lost his footing in the story. “You fucking knew it was Catherine the whole time.”
“Oh, Eddie,” you giggle and run your fingers through his soft curls. You can feel his head push back into your touch a little, it’s subtle but true. “That’s the whole point. You were thinking with your dick, just like Nick.” Eddie turns his face to you. He looks sheepish, but he’s smiling. You kiss his cheek before picking up the bowl of popcorn. It’s empty but for a few kernels and butter stains.
“Well, can you blame me?” He’s following behind you, watching the way your hips sway a little under the black sweatpants. He can’t stop thinking about the way they’d feel under his grip.
“No, I can’t,” you giggle as you turn back, the fat of your ass pushed against the edge of the counter. Eddie’s closer than you expected, close enough to have to reach around you to place the empty cans of beer on the counter behind your back. “We saw Christine through Nick’s eyes, and he was totally clouded by his feelings for her.”
Eddie’s looking at your lips while you talk, and the words start to slip from your mind. You have more to say, something about an oversexualized femme fatale. Something about noir using the trope over and over again, and how Eddie knows that and still missed it because Sharon Stone made his dick hard. None of that matters, not when he’s looking at your lips like that. Not when he’s looking at you like he wants to swallow you whole. And his arms are bracketing your sides, his hands are resting on the counter.
“Well, what can I say -” Eddie’s voice is low and he’s close enough for you to feel the heat of his words fanning against your lips. You think, kiss me now, you fool. Instead he closes his eyes and turns his head to the side to shake away the sudden animal instinct that nearly took over his ability to reason. “- you’ve always been smarter than me.” A kiss on the cheek and a whispered goodnight, and you’re left standing there watching him walk out of the kitchen and down the hallway to his room.
You yank open the junk drawer and fish around for the AA battery pack. You grab 4 before slamming it closed and heading back to your own room. It’s precautionary, you can’t have that little Pocket Rocket dying on you, not tonight. Not when you’re sure you can picture exactly what Eddie’s doing on the other side of your bedroom wall. Is it just your imagination, or do you hear the rhythmic sounds of bed springs faintly vibrating along with the rhythm of your own pleasure.
All doubt is gone when the sound of a moan through the paper thin wall, and decide that tonight you won’t bite down on your pillow while your own hips lift up off your mattress trying to ride an imaginary lover through your pleasure.
#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfiction
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Hi, lovely Ash!
So I had this smutty and (kind of) cute request for Eddie. Like the reader is somewhere in the gray area where she isn't bullied but not among the most popular either but she has seen how the popular gang treats Eddie - they buy his weed and then scream as he walks past because he's the devil. So she tells him she wants to buy from him but when she gets to the picnic table she instead kisses him and starts going down on him saying "I just thought you deserved some good, for once".
Can go to full on smut or not, up to you :)
Hi, one of my favorite people ever with their excellent requests! I hope this is what you were looking for and you like it <3
Never proofread
Deserving
Y/N wasn't part of the popular crowd, she couldn't stand their arrogant attitudes and how fake they were. But she wasn't a target for them, she hid in the shadows and not many paid attention to her. Which she preferred.
Eddie Munson was a loner like she was, but sadly he was one of their main targets. She always felt bad for him. They only talked to him when they wanted weed from him. Being polite during deals but mocking him in the halls. She admired how he always brushed it off, but she knew some of it he took to heart.
She couldn't lie, he was incredibly attractive. His long hair, dark eyes, and lips always curved in a smirk. She fantasized about his hands and his fingers covered in rings. He was gorgeous.
She wasn't sure why she found herself wanting to make a move on him. Maybe she was tired of feeling bad for him and wanted to give him something he could enjoy. Or maybe she was tired of craving him.
She walked to his small table in the woods, he sat with a smile as she approached. He began to empty out his lunch box, setting out the different amounts of weed. But she kept staring at him and walked around the table. Eddie was confused as to why she was standing right next to him, instead of sitting across from him.
"What's up?" Eddie asked
"Not here to buy weed, Eddie." She smiled, "Stand up."
He followed her demand, still confused. He stood up and was now facing her. He went to question her again but her lips met his. She looped her fingers through his belt loops and yanked him closer. Eddie's mind was racing, but he felt himself sinking into the kiss.
He realized he hadn't kissed her back. He wrapped his arms around her waist and followed her lead. He matched her pace and hungrily kissed her back. He never thought of kissing her, and he hated how much he has been missing out.
Once she pulled away, she giggled as his eyes were still closed. She didn't wait for his reaction when she began to unbuckle his belt and dropped to her knees.
That snapped Eddie out of his daydream, "Woah, what are you doing?" He asked nervously, his eyes looking around as if someone could be watching them. But he didn't find himself wanting to stop her.
"You don't deserve the way you've been treated. You're hot, funny, smart, and you deserve some good in your life. Let me make you feel good?" She asked, pulling his jeans down to his ankles as he stood above her, staring at her with wide eyes.
He nodded as fast as he could, not trusting his voice. Was she really about to suck hi-yeah, yeah she was definitely sucking his dick in the middle of the woods.
He tried to make sure his knees didn't buckle when she gagged on him. His hands dove into her hair as he closed his eyes. He has never felt this good in his life. He's jacked off to porn, but his hand has never made him feel this good. His mind went blank, he wasn't worried about anyone catching them, he didn't care if he was caught with his dick down her throat. Fuck, he didn't even care if someone stole all the weed that sat on the table. As long as nothing interrupted the bliss he was feeling right now.
He looked down at her, she was already watching him. His heart raced at the sight. She looked beautiful. Her eyes were slightly watering as she worked on taking him down her throat even further. He wanted to capture this moment in his head, remember how she looked on her knees for him. He'd never use porn again, just the memory of this moment.
"Shit...gonna." He warned, moving to take him out of her mouth, but she chased after him. Planting her hands on the back of his thighs, forcing him not to move. She didn't slow down, it was like she was draining him.
Before he knew it, he was cumming down her throat, his mouth dropping as silent moans left. His hands clenched her hair in a tight grip as he bucked his hips through his orgasm. Panting as she cleaned him off, wiping her mouth as she pulled his jeans back up.
He stared at her in awe, silently watching as she buckled his belt and dusted off her knees. She smiled and pecked his lips, his own cum landing on his lip.
She waved as she walked off, and Eddie was frozen watching after her.
Did he just fall in love?
tags!
@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson request#eddie munson smut x female reader#eddie munson smut x reader#eddie munson smut#ashwhowrites
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