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magnoliabutters · 11 months

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• I THINK WE’RE ALONE NOW •

pairing: eddie munson x (he/him) reader

summary: finally, you find yourself truly alone with munson…

warnings: 18+, mdni, adult language; novice reader, consent discussions, smut, pet names, references to previous parts, oral (reader receiving), semi-public, aftercare, internal dialogue, etc.

word count: ~4.3k

reblogs for daddy eddie 🥴

• the banished ones • part three •

note: this part is dedicated to my pride 2023 collection! and i’ll tell you rn, i thought i wanted to make this the series finale but i’m having way too much fun. there’s def gonna be one or two more parts to the banished ones series...

“Dude, there is no way Solo shot first, okay?” Gareth yells. The tone of his voice clearly shows his level of dedication to Han. “He would never do that.” You scoff, not being able to hold the laughter within. “What do you mean? That is totally like him!” you reply with a smile. You turn to Munson for encouragement. He was already staring at you behind his curly bangs, holding a deep, beaming grin.

Gareth stands up, ripping the book off the table. “You know what,” he says under his breath as he pushes the DnD: Basic Set into his backpack. “Aw common dude”, you and Ben overlap. “Nah, man, that’s a bit too much Han Solo hating for me,” he says, shaking his finger back and forth. “Gareth, common,” Ben pleads. “Who said I was hating?” you scoff. “I love Han and I love that he shot first.”

With a deep sigh, Gareth quickly says, “Goodbye.” He rushes down the stage’s stairs and out the door. You swear you could see steam coming from his ears. “Damn it,” Ben says as he places a worried hand to his forehead. “What’s wrong, Peterson?” Munson asks in an annoyed sing songy voice. “Gareth was my ride,” he mumbles. “My parents are gonna kill me.”

You turn towards Munson, mouthing “yikes,” but he was already lost in thought. His eyes perk as soon as he figures something out. “Y-you can take my van,” he suggests, grabbing the keys from his denim pant’s pocket. Ben slowly reaches for the keys as though they were gold. “You’re sure?” he asks. “Yeah, J will take me home,” Munson answers with a firm slap to your back.

As Ben’s fingers touch the key’s rings, Munson whispers in his ear, “If you fuck up my van, I fuck you up.” Ben stands straight as possible with blinking eyes as Munson returns to his cheery self. But you aren’t even able to enjoy it. Your mind struggles to accept the fact that you’ll be spending even more time with him, alone. And you know what happens when you two are alone.

“O-okay,” Ben says with a shudder as he hooks his backpack over his shoulder. He walks out hastily, with an occasional look back towards Munson. “I’m sorry, I just assumed,” he laughs charismatically. “Is it alright if you take me home?” You stumble with your words, still trying to process the idea. “Y-yeah, um, that’s fine,” you stutter.

Munson’s smile grows twice in size. His eyes twinkling in a way that makes your heart flutter. “Lead the way,” he says as he gestures towards the auditorium’s entrance. You walk forward with hesitance, a deep swallow to your throat. Your hand shakes as it reaches the keys in your pocket.

He follows behind you. The distance being an odd mixture between nervously close and a good length away. He seems to be a master in the craft, effortlessly moving between touch and distance. But you cannot deny how his touch makes you feel. It transports you somewhere, a place filled with happiness and rocked with your wildest dreams of peace.

Silence fills the remainder of your walks through the halls and into the parking lot. It feels like a wasted opportunity, but no words pop into your head. All you can think about is his hand on your thigh. His fingers tangling with your button and pants. The way your heart pops out of your chest like and old-timey cartoon any time his eyes fall upon your own.

“A Volvo, huh?” Munson asks with a smile as he trails a finger against your hood. You look around the parking lot and realize yours is the last car. No one else is here. “J?” he asks again with a chuckle. One brow raises suspiciously. You quickly turn to him with wide eyes and a self-conscious laugh. You push a hand through your hair sheepishly.

“What were you thinking about?” He asks with a sweet smile that makes your stomach flip somersaults. With a quick inhale, you walk towards him with a smirk. An oh-so-confident smirk that he found curious. “Oh, I was just thinking how you’re going to be my passenger princess,” you say with a sigh. A beaming smile ending your words.

Munson lets out a sharp breath through his nostrils as he shakes his head. A smile forms on his lips as his tongue presses against the roof of his mouth. "Usually, I'm the driver," he says softly with brows raised. You walk closer to him, sliding your hand into the door's handle. You open it and gesture for him to sit down. He takes a second, inhales, and sits down. "You're my princess now," you mutter before closing the door. His wide eyes stare back at you with a gaping, yet amused mouth as you walk to the driver's side.

You take one last look at the parking lot. A second confirmation that the two of you are, in fact, alone. It's not that you need to be alone to with him, or that you want to hide him from others. You find safety and solidarity in the absence of people. The fear of being who you truly are dissipates as they do. This part of you that has been burrowing so deep within finally has the opportunity to come out. Finally, you can get to experience that part of you in your new found reality.

As your hand rests against the handle, tightness pangs against your chest. You have never done this before. You think you know what you want, what you should do, but you have never once done this. You haven't done any of this with anyone, excluding that one horrid birthday party where you played 7-minutes in heaven with Judy Thompson in 8th grade. That kiss is when you knew, without a doubt, that something was off. That girls don't bring the same floating, exciting feelings to your chest. No, no - that feeling was saved for boys, for men. Men like Munson.

You sit down with your hands tight against the steering wheel. You can feel Munson's gaze on you. There is an uneven tension within the air. You've never done this ... but should that stop you? You take in a quivering breath with eyes closed. Your shoulders practically at your ears with the inhale. You turn to him, opening your eyes to those chestnut irises. You instantly feel that warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest. Your hands slowly reach to his cheeks. You watch as his eyes widen just before yours close and your lips touch.

His lips, pink and supple, feel like clouds against your own. You can feel the soft curls of his hair against your fingertips. With another peck, you feel his hands against your biceps. They support you in your gentle hold against his cheeks. His kisses are sweet, gentle, and loving. You feel as though you had died and gone to heaven. Your Volvo, Munson, and you would be the beautifulest slice of heaven.

Your hands gradually travel further into his hair. Fingers now entangled in those brunette locks. His palms now cup your cheeks. You know he can feel your smile within his hands. With each graze of his lips, you find yourself craving more. Your grip onto his hair becomes tighter. You readjust yourself in your seat as you lean closer to him. He is intoxicating. His smell. His touch. His taste.

Without further delay, you lightly brush your tongue against his lips. You are met with the strength of his own as your mouths widen. The blood drains from your face as you feel pressure in your stomach. He now pushes against you, coming closer and closer to you. Somehow you disconnect from your body and your subconscious reaches for the handle to push your seat back.

Munson takes the cue and gracefully lands his knee beside your outer thigh. He straddles your legs. His curls now brushing against your face as he peers down to kiss you. You struggle to catch a breath, only because you would rather kiss him forever than to take a second to stop. Your hands nervously raise to his hips as his remain on your cheeks. His nails dig into your skin, an exciting sensation.

As his tongue now resides in your mouth and his breath is hot upon your lips, your hands travel up his back. Your grip tightening with each second that passes. Slowly, you feel his hips begin to move. Panic strikes you as you feel all the blood reach your lower extremities. Your kisses are more rushed. Your hands more careful. It's almost as though your mind and its bundle of overwhelming thoughts has returned.

With each rut of his hips, Munson's friction against your jeans becomes harder and harder. You open your eyes, staring at your car's beige clothed roof - still kissing him, but praying to the fucking gods that you don't bust right here. You have never felt so good. Never felt so alive.

You can feel your body tensing up. You can feel that familiar hot and firm sensation in your pants. His thrusts against your lap never stopped. Not that you would ever want them to stop. You don't want to get a boner too early. Is there such a thing as too early? Fuck, man. Maybe think of feet, or salamanders, or-or volcanos - wait, no, not volcanos.

As he leans over you, your hands find a sweet, bare spot at the base of his spine. Your fingertips explore digging under his shirt. His skin is soft and warm. Fuck, this isn't helping. You start to pull away for some breaths, but he doesn't stop. His sweet lips now find a place against the nape of your neck. His cool breath sending shiver downs your spine. Fuck, that doesn't help either!

Gradually, Munson's movements slow down. He pulls his lips away from your neck, which almost makes you whimper. His eyes fall upon you with a straight face. Yours undeniably expresses worry as you look his way. "Lean the chair back and scoot up," he says calmly as his hips maintain an easy grind against your lap.

While still presenting those worried lines on your face, you reach down to pull up the seat's handle. It reclines until it hits the back seat. You sit frozen. "Now, scoot up," he coos. You catch a hint of a smile in reaction to your innocence. You reluctantly pull your hands from his hips as you scoot back to the headrest of the chair. Your torso leans against the backseat.

As you move, Munson adjusts himself where he kneels on the car floor and rests between your legs. Your eyes widen at the sight. Your mouth practically watering. The tent in your pants becoming more and more unavoidable. His hands press firmly into your thighs. A sensation you would imagine would be comparable to a massage. "May I?" he asks softly. His hands now resting in the spot where your thighs and hips meet. "I felt you," he murmurs. "It felt good."

Your entire body feels as though its filled with pins and needles. Nervousness rips the breath right from under you. Words aren't coming out, well - if you even had words to say right now. Your mind is completely blank. Then all of a sudden, words come out without your intent or knowledge. "I've never done this before," you whisper. Your eyes fall to your chest as your jaw clenches. Stupid, you think. Why did you tell him?

Munson leans over your body once more. His chest heavy against your hips. Two fingers pinch your chin, pulling your gaze towards him. "It's okay," he says. A deep breath you hadn't noticed you were holding releases. "I'll take care of you," he soothes as he floats back onto his knees. His eyes are glued to you as his hands reach your pants. His fingers unbutton your jeans, relieving some pressure - at least physically. He then tucks his fingers into your waistline and pulls them down. You nervously help him get the jeans from under you, but he continues to pull them to your knees by himself.

One hand presses harshly against your chin, covering your mouth. The other shakes, tapping fingers against your thigh. He quickly notices and intertwines his fingers with yours. Your shaking stops as you feel his comforting embrace. "I'm going to ask again," he says softly. "I need you to be honest with me. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do." You nod hastily. Your vocal box no longer attached to your body. "Do you want me to keep going?"

You take a second to think, as much as you wanted to immediately say "yes." Your mind reels over the possibilities. If you say no, will you ever have this chance again? If you say yes, will you regret it? You'll be giving yourself, all of yourself to him - a boy, a-a man you just met today. But this man isn't just anyone. He isn't the first gay man you've ever met. There is something about him that gives you courage. That makes you feel like you can do anything, be anything. Like you can dare to be your true self. You deserve to be your true self, to follow your heart.

"Yes," you say with the utmost confidence. That little nervousness in the back of your throat persists, but you acknowledge that it's because this is your first time being this intimate with someone. Not that you are worried that this may be a mistake. You are more confident now than ever in knowing that this is most definitely not a mistake.

Munson nods, a slight smile to his face. He peers down at your checkered boxers. "Hm, I was expecting something a little brighter," he jokes. You let out a chuckle of relief. "Maybe next time," you say softly. "Oh, there's going to be a next time?" he asks sincerely. Your heart drops as anxiety fills it again. "I hope so," you softly plead, shooting him those worried eyes he's come to enjoy. With a smile, he shares, "I hope so too."

He tucks his fingers underneath the elastic of your boxers. You rush your hands to your eyes. Somehow it makes sense to hide. He smiles as he pulls further down. You feel your cock flip to your stomach, firm as can be. Your pants now joined by another garment.

The pressure on your eyes stronger than ever. "Oh fuck," Munson says breathlessly. You tear your hands from your eyes to see what was wrong. Your gaze lands upon him. The tongue that slicks his bottom lip. The eyes that gleam and twinkle. The teeth that dig into the flesh of his lips.

His breathing now matches yours. You wonder if he's nervous too. The sight excites you as you slowly become more confident in your bare and exposed body. “Oh man,” he mumbles to himself. Another uptick in your stress meter. “I can work with this, J.” His jaw tightens as he takes more deep inhale. You can’t help the smile broadening across your face.

Munson’s hand slowly rests at your hip bones. His skin against yours is a pleasure you never thought to have existed. Let alone a sensation you would be able to experience with someone else. His hand slowly slides closer and closer to your base. You can feel yourself twitching in anticipation.

His fingers slowly collapse around your girth. You bite your lip, hoping to keep a moan from coming out. He looks up to you with a laugh as he slowly raises his grip and slides it back down. “I like seeing you squirm,” he says with a raising brow. It feels like a taunt. Like a ball served over the net, expecting your return. You nervously laugh, from the situation and the new sensations. “I like your hand on my cock,” you say.

Immediate regret fills your face and you struggle to keep your cool. But without missing a beat, you naturally add, “Princess.” Munson huffs with a glowing grin. Another side nod and the sexiest words fall from his mouth. “Okay, daddy.” You can’t help but squirm again, especially since he decided to squeeze a bit harder with his last word.

A harsh breath escapes you as his movement quickens. You find your hips wanting to move with him. Little moans you can’t help leave you. You have never felt so damn good. His thumb brushes against your head ever so lightly. You are as red as can be. Your sensitivity levels on max. “Mm,” you let out as your head falls back and you lick your lips.

His movements continue. Up and down. Pulsating squeezes. A thumb to rub the head. Suddenly, you hear a spit, followed by a sudden coolness against your cock. His fingers slipping much easier, much quicker against your skin. “Oh fuck,” you painfully plead, desperate not to blow too early. Not only would that be embarrassing, but you most definitely want more and more of this touching.

“Mmm, good boy,” Munson murmurs in response. Your crown still pressed against the headrest. Your body tight. Eyes closed shut. You feel a soft breath against your head, another new feeling. Then you feel a familiar softness as it wraps around your cock. A warm, moist spot that makes you want to crumble into pieces.

Curiously, you look down and see his curly mane bobbing against your groin. “Oh shit,” you say desperately. Your eyes wide open now. Almost involuntarily, your hand returns to its favorite spot, to tangling within his locks. His tongue swirls around your head in a way that makes you dizzy. How could this feel even better than the last? How could anything feel better than this?

Another brush of his tongue and you truly are struggling to hold it in. Sweat bullets drop from your forehead. You pull your eyes away from him, hoping maybe that would help. Of course, it does not. “Shit, shit, shit,” you mumble to yourself. A hand now resting against your mouth.

At your mewling sounds, Munson finally takes all of you in. You feel his tongue slick and firm against your raging cock. The warmth that you never knew you craved. His hand now gently cupping your balls. A soft thumb rubbing over them. “M-M-Munson,” you call out, trying to warn him. But in this world, filled with pleasure, there are no words. No words you or he could muster.

Once you feel that pit in your stomach, you finally disconnect from your brain and live in the moment. Your hips begin to rut as his hands support him at the tops of your thighs. The fingers deep within his curls begin to tighten and tug. The moans falling from your lips no longer filtered. Your other hand smacks against the door frame, digging your nails into the window’s pocket.

Abruptly, Munson pulls up from your cock with a gasp. Saliva strings still connecting you two together. One hand wipes it off his lips as the other grabs firmly at your base. His movements now quicker than ever, following the lead of your hips. The pit in your stomach grows deeper and deeper until…

“Fuck!” you yell in a whisper. You feel the familiar warmth spots falling against your stomach and thighs. Your hips still rutting against him. His hand still tight, but with smoother slides up and down. His other hand lightly massages the top of your thigh. You feel your high slowly fading away, thankful for his support in guiding you down.

Gradually, your eyes open to the sight of Munson hiding behind a strand of his hair. A guilty, sheepish smile behind the curls. You laugh despite your exhaustion. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says sweetly as he reaches for the hem of his shirt. You quickly raise up, pulling your legs from under him.

“No, no,” you say with a waving of your hand. “I got it.” You pull the bottom of your shirt over your head. He’s seen your cock, you figure he could see your chest - despite the dependable self-conscious feeling of the act. You roll your shirt into a ball and gently grab his hand to wipe off any remaining cum. Then you wipe the cum off your skin. “I might like being the princess,” he says softly, but you could only hear a mumble. “What was that?” you say as you raise your head from your cleaning.

Munson shakes his head, pushing his lips out into a mix of pout and grin, as he answers, “Nothing.” Clearing his throat, he adds, “We should probably get going. Janitors usually get in at 10.” He takes one look, another bite to his lip, before pulling away. He crawls over to the passenger seat before peering back at you. “They get cranky if they find anyone on campus.”

“How would you know?” you say with a grin. You find relief in your conversations remaining random and comfortable. You start to pull your boxers and jeans up. “There’s no time limit on finishing a campaign, okay?” he retorts. You can’t help but laugh as you hook your button closed. You gracefully pull the seat up and to a comfortable position to the wheel. Seat belt across your torso and buckled in. He watches intently.

As you reverse the car, you ask, “Where to, Munson?” In a booming, announcing voice, he states, “Forest Hills Trailer Park.” Another chuckle falls as you shake your head. “I have no fucking clue where that is,” you say. He responds hastily, “Oh, right, um … Turn right here.” You turn on your blinker and steer right out of the parking lot and into the road. Out of the side of your eye, you see a hint of confusion across his face.

“Okay, so at the next stop sign, you wanna take a right,” Munson says with another point to the right. You have to hand it to him. He’s a pretty good tour guide. The man has you turning back and forth every other street where you just so happen to pass by what he thinks is the coolest parts of Hawkins. You press on your breaks a good few meters away from the stop sign as you have been taught. But, again, you receive a confused glancing look.

“What?” you scoff. “Oh nothing,” Munson says as he turns his torso back towards the road. “Bullshit,” you say as you come to a complete stop. You flip on your blinker and wait three seconds before turning. He looks as though he might burst. Whatever words he has, he is holding them back with tears in his eyes.

“Spit it out, Munson,” you taunt. “Or should I say ‘Eddie?’” He takes in a deep breath, pinching his pointer and thumb together. “You drive like a grandma,” he says calmly and slowly. “What?!” you ask with incredulous laughter. “What because I follow the law?”

Munson takes in a sharp breath as his smile becomes a thin line. Your words almost seem painful to him. “The law?” he asks in a bit of a choke. “Oh, what, like you don’t?” you ask with a scoff. He shakes his head inquisitively. He draws your attention to his torso with no seat belt. He digs into his pocket and reveals a blunt and zippo lighter. He grabs hold of his collar, pulling it down to show the tattoo of a black detailed spider.

“Impressive,” you say while nodding. “Dangerous,” you add as you reach for the passenger seat belt. “Put it on, princess.” Munson rolls his eyes but complies with a smile as your gaze returns to the road. “Let’s just say,” you continue, trying to hype yourself up. “I follow the law of the road.”

Your failed attempt has Munson cackling. Stifling his laugh, he asks, “Do you have any tattoos?” You snort at the idea. “You just saw me naked. I feel like you should know.” He shoots you his bullshit grin. “I didn’t see your ass, or your back,” he starts. “But you wished you did, huh?” you lean over to him, biting your bottom lip.

His smile now quivers as his eyes look at your lips. “Maybe,” he says with a rising pitch. His blushing cheeks suddenly become the best thing you have ever seen. You struggle to fight the urge to not kiss him. Your eyes have to be on the road, remember?

“Oh! Forest Hills, right?” You point towards the barely lit sign. It rests in a field of dirt with patches of grass. You click your blinker to turn left. “Yeah,” Munson adds, abruptly pulled from the flirtatious moment he was enjoying. “It’s the trailer in the back and to the right.”

You pull onto another patch of dirt in front of the Munson trailer. Your headlights shining brightly against the metal. Your heart sinks as you put your car into park. You thought you were ready to say goodbye, to see him tomorrow for more inconspicuous, daring flirting and touching in public. But no. You aren’t ready. You want to stay in this car, stay with him forever. Your hands never leave the steering wheel. Your eyes stare into the odometer as you attempt to think of a clever idea to keep the night going.

“I owe you a shirt,” Munson says, drawing your attention. “You should come in.” Your heart leaps, your mouth drops. A small piece of you considers telepathy, but you quickly push that thought away. “Yeah, I should. Shouldn’t I?” you say with a smile as you turn off the ignition and rest your keys on your lap. He laughs at your fast response. Those blushing cheeks return.

“Lead the way, Munson.”

note: thank you for so much for reading! have a happy & safe pride! just remember, there is more to come...

comment and/or reblog if you'd like to join the taglist!

taglist: (thank you!) @wolfiescosplay, @eddiesprettygirl, @unholycheesesnack, & @wrandomwritting

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