#let’s talk about puppy!eddie !!
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Puppy!eddie eats you out soooooo much when you adopt puppy!Steve. Won’t let you get up until he’s satisfied, and coincidentally that’s usually when you can’t walk anywhere anyway. Always wants to show you what a good puppy he is, needs you to call him good boy. But he can get a tad more feral when he’s really into the throes of enjoying his treat, he’ll growl at your new addition when he walks into the room because that’s his pussy. To lick and eat and knot and breed and birth his litter and make squirt everywhere. You’ll go to attend to Steve and Eddie is pressing you to the floor, not letting you up as he buries his entire face in you. Jealous baby
But Steve sees what’s going on all the time. Smells it. Buries himself in a nest of your dirty laundry basket, that has your underwear Eddie used a little before tearing off in it, so he’s very acquainted with the scent. One day you wake up to licks down there, the feeling of wet tongue lapping needily over and over at you waking you up, before the sloppy, and tail thumping sounds. But when you look down it’s your new pup Steve eating you out. Instead of how Eddie does some mornings. He had humped you a bit before, to show you his feelings, but he’d never gone anywhere near this far before. Eddie wouldn’t have let him. Although when Eddie wakes up, in the same bed, there’s hell to pay. That’s the first actually physical fight you have to break up between the two
cw: hybrid au with dog hybrid!eddie and dog hybrid!steve. don't like don't read, or block the tag 'hybrid au' below. hybrid au faq
this post is 18+, minors dni.
shut uuuuppp oh my god there's no denying it anymore i'm a whore and that's it.
it's both possessive and for praise, eddie wants you to gush about how fantastic it feels while steve's in the other room definitely able to hear you 'cause eddie's a little insecure about this guy just showing up and staying - he definitely takes pride in the blush on steve's cheeks when he walks out after making you scream and makes dinner for the three of you (because your legs are too wobbly to stand at the stove). but something angry and hot burns at eddie's insides when steve tries butting in, even if he isn't trying to snatch you away from eddie he's asking if you guys can watch a movie tonight or letting you know that he cleaned out the fridge 'cause he saw something sticky in there when he was getting a snack earlier. they're all comments and requests that you fawn over him for, so eddie doubles down and keeps you in his grip so that if you're gonna be thanking steve for the chores he did or promising to rent a specific movie for the night you're gonna be creaming on his tongue while you do it <3
there is something so special to me about perv hybrid!steve... like he knows what he's doing is wrong, sneaking into your closet and taking your panties, he knows he shouldn't be doing it, especially 'cause you're so nice to have taken him in in the first place, he just can't help it. eddie's driving him crazy, showing you off as if to say that steve will never get you the way eddie does, and one morning he just can't take it anymore. he decides to just go for it, he kisses up your thighs and presses sweet kisses to your clit through your underwear and buries his nose in your clothed cunt and when you start getting wet he dives in and eats you out. he's voracious, licking and sucking and drooling and panting as he devours you, he knows now why eddie's so attached to eating you out because he's sure as hell never gonna stop his spit is so plentiful that it's mixing with your slick and running down your ass, which he happily licks up and soaks his face in your slick <3 he's definitely not trying to wake you or eddie up, he's just trying to make you feel good and finally satiate some of his own urges, but you obviously wake up from the feeling, and he only gets more enthusiastic when you pet his ears and tug gently on his hair and whimper and moan and all of that good stuff <33 but of course, those sounds make eddie wake up, and that's when all hell breaks loose. you really think eddie's gonna bite steve, you're desperately trying to shove yourself between them before eddie starts throwing punches, but they're swearing at each other and they're both trying to push you away so that you don't get caught in the middle.
eventually you're able to calm them down! it's definitely a turning point in your relationship, the three of you make peace as one unit instead of you separately placating eddie and steve, but the more eddie gets used to the concept of sharing you, the more chill he'll be when steve decides it's his turn to wake you up <3
#hybrid au#hybrid smut#dog hybrid!eddie#dog hybrid!steve#let's talk about puppy!eddie !!#let's talk about puppy!steve !!#puppy!steve#puppy!eddie
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Eddie's a mechanic, has a shop in Indy. It's only got two bays, but he owns it, he saved up the money, it's his. He runs it with Wayne, is building up a customer base. He loves it.
Within the year, a bakery opens up next door, separated from Eddie's shop by a narrow alley. He has a perfect view into the bakery's kitchen from the shop's office, and almost immediately catches a glimpse of the drop-dead gorgeous guy behind the mixing bowl. He's got sun-golden skin, swoopy brown hair, wide puppy dog eyes, the poutiest mouth, and a face dotted with freckles. Eddie gapes at him for a solid two-minutes, salivating over the bunch and pull of his muscles as he kneads a ball of dough. A wet dream come true.
Eddie's always sneaking glances at the shop next door, can't seem to keep his gaze off the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Over the next few months, he becomes familiar with this herd of kids that hang around the bakery at all hours. There's one, curly-haired and mouthy, who often makes the baker frown with his hands on his hips, but as soon as the boy walks away, the baker smiles all wide and fond.
It's a silly crush, no big deal. He has a weakness for brown-eyed pretty boys, so what? It's not like he's going to do anything crazy, like make a move.
It's past midnight, a few months after the bakery opens, and Eddie's in his little office, doing the monthly accounting. He's exhausted, tired of calculators and numbers, when a flash of light catches at the corner of his eye. He blinks a few times, sure it's the exhaustion setting in, but it doesn't go away.
Instead, there's a light on over at the bakery. It's a kitchen light, and the baker is standing at the stainless steel counter, looking unlike Eddie's ever seen. His hair is a soft wave, swooping onto his forehead. He wears grey sweatpants and a yellow sweatshirt. Tonight, his movements are less precise and practiced; he's slow and contemplative as he gathers ingredients and mixing bowls.
It's been long enough Eddie should look away, but he forgets that it isn't a dream, that he's actually watching the baker roll up his sleeves as he whisks. It's inevitable that, eventually, the baker catches Eddie staring. He just smiles, though, and waves. Eddie manages to return the greeting before awareness smacks him in the face, and he flees the office and the building in acute embarrassment.
They share waves after that. Smiles. Laughter once when Eddie's reading over an invoice and walking, smacks face-first into the doorframe. Eye rolls after the baker gets into an impassioned argument with the curly-haired boy, one that involves a copious amount of thrown flour.
They exchange waves and smiles and goofy expressions, and it shouldn't escalate further, but one day Eddie steps into the shop's waiting room to find the curly-haired boy sitting behind the reception desk, flipping through Eddie's new dnd guide.
"What." Eddie says.
"You," says the boy. He's pointing and glaring and Eddie is a little scared.
"Me?"
"You like dnd?"
He hopes his sigh of relief isn't audible. "Best DM this town has ever seen." He postures and smirks.
"Doubt it," the boy says.
Eddie lets out an offended squeak, dramatically smashes his hand over his heart. "Insulted! Maligned! In my own place of business! Oh!" He falls into a dramatic swoon.
The boy snickers. "I'm Dustin," he says.
"Eddie." They shake hands and Eddie does not laugh at how overly serious this is all is. "Sir Dustin, what brings you to my fine establishment?"
Dustin shrugs. "Steve."
"Steve?"
Dustin rolls his eyes. "The bakery."
"Oh," Eddie says. Steve. The baker is Steve.
He's having a little trouble breathing, sure he's done something wrong, a distinct feeling of doom settling on his shoulders. "Why?"
"He won't stop talking about the mechanic next door but refuses to introduce himself. Plus, I saw your D20 tattoo the other day."
Eddie's barely hearing him, reeling over the knowledge that Steve talks about him to his gaggle of children. He barely hears the rest of the conversation, but the next day Dustin shows up with the rest of the kids, Lucas, Mike, Max, El, Erica, Will.
They're loud, chaotic, wild, and somehow--before they leave--they've coerced him into running a one-shot for them. They come by in twos and threes for the rest of the week, eating all the snacks in the waiting room mini-fridge and talking at him and Wayne as they work.
It's Friday, it's sweltering, he's closing the shop for the night with the top of his coveralls hanging off hips, his sweat soaked undershirt tossed behind a tool chest. He steps into the waiting area and nearly jumps out of his skin to find a man there, holding a plastic container.
Steve.
"H--hi," he stutters. And fuck, he's shirtless. He's standing in front of Steve for the first time and his nipples are out. This is it, the moment he finally dies of embarrassment.
Steve's eyes are locked on Eddie's torso for a few seconds too long, cheeks flushing. He blinks, finally looking at Eddie's face. "I'm Steve. From the--the bakery next door?" He points. "I--uh--I wanted to stop by and apologize?"
"What?" Eddie asks. There's too much happening for him to keep up.
"Um, the kids?"
And Eddie can't fathom why he needs to apologize, can only stare at Steve in confused disbelief.
"It's just. They can be kind of a handful. I used to babysit Mike and the whole group of them started following me around, and--Anyway, I think Dustin took it upon himself to try to introduce us. I've been wondering where they keep disappearing off to, and Max told me today that they're here with you, and I thought I probably owed you an apology. You're trying to work and I know they can be a bunch of shitheads, and oh my god, I'm rambling, I really am turning into Robin, Jesus Christ."
Eddie is fucked. Oh he's so fucked. He's charmed, endeared, can't stop smiling at Steve who is somehow even more beautiful up close.
"I forgive you," Eddie says. "They're nice kids."
Steve lets out a hard breath. "They are, huh?" He smiles. "Don't let them hear you say that. You'll never get a moment's peace. And they shouldn't have been over here bothering you, anyway."
"It wasn't a bother. Though, they did eat all my snacks and swindle me into running a one-shot for them. Still not sure how that happened."
Steve laughs and his eyes crinkle at the corner. So fucked. So fucked. "I should've known that you play that game of theirs."
"Aw, not a dnd fan, Stevie?"
Steve blushes. "It's--there's a lot of math."
Eddie laughs, already knows he's never getting over this one. "You bake professionally."
"It's different?" Steve laughs. "Fine, fine! You got me, it's not my thing."
"Bet I could change your mind," Eddie says. He doesn't mean to be flirting, can't stop himself.
"I bet you could," Steve agrees. He moves his hand, like maybe he's going to run it through his swoop of hair, then seems to remember he's holding baked goods. "Oh, uh, please take these cupcakes as my apology for accidentally saddling you with my group of semi-feral children."
"You're already forgiven, but I'll never say no to a cupcake."
"You should stop by the shop tomorrow, then" Steve says. "On the house."
"You've already given me these." He wiggles the cupcakes in Steve's pretty face.
"I only save the free samples for the hottest customers." Steve does run a hand through his hair now, and it's dorky as fuck, but Eddie still feels like he's died and this is heaven. "See you tomorrow?"
Eddie can only nod as Steve backs out of the office with a cheeky little wave.
He goes to the bakery the next day, sure he just let his crush get away from him and imagined the entire interaction with Steve. Except, when he walks in, Steve smiles all big and pretty in his little blue apron, invites Eddie back to the kitchen.
And if they share their first kiss against the stainless steel countertops, it's between them, Wayne, and all the kids who spy on them from the shop's office window.
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#mechanic eddie munson#baker steve harrington#ficlet#fluff#meet cute#mutual pining#matchmaker dustin henderson#longing glances#dustin is sick of hearing steve talk about the hot mechanic next door but never making a move#dustin makes it for him#the party are a bunch of well-meaning menances#for some reason insomnia is an intrinsic part of steve's character even in an au
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"Do you think Eddie likes me?" The question leaves Steve's mouth absently, like an afterthought. Wayne watches his shoulders tense as he holds the cabnet door up. His eyes are on the floor. His cheeks going red. Wayne hums genlty, trying not to laugh in Steve's face. If he only knew.
Instead he sits with the question for a moment, keeps working, tightening the screws till they're snug. He nods at Steve, he lets go. Wayne swings the door back and forth a few times. No squeaks. And it doesn't fall off into his hands. He and Steve both nod at the same time, satisfied, Steve's hands dropping to his hips.
"Does he bite you?" Wayne asks, trying to sound as thoughtful as Steve had with his question. Steve stares at him. Wayne raises his eyebrows.
"Eddie. Does he ever bite you?" He repeats, giving Steve a pointed look.
"Oh! Um.. he... yeah? S-sometimes." Steve stammers a bit, his brow furrowing as he rubs at the back of his neck. And then his hand falls to his shoulder. And then drops by his side and clenches. Wayne smiles.
"You ever heard'a cuteness aggression?" Wayne asks, putting his tools back into their box and stashing it on top of the fridge. Steve shakes his head and frowns again. Wayne nods, motions for the small table and sits, Steve following him and sitting across from him.
"Well what I understand of it, and I'm getting this information from Eddie so... take it as you will." Steve smiles, a knowing look passing his face as he nods, and yeah, this kid has it bad for his boy.
"It's when someone thinks something is so cute it makes them violent. And Ed's got it bad. Took him ages to get it under control. What do you think happened to Gilberts ear?" Wayne nods toward the couch where their chunky brown tabby cat is napping. He looks up at the mention of his name and meows inquisitively.
"Oh my god what?!" Steve gasps, his hand jumping to cover his mouth. Wayne snorts.
"I'm just messin with ya kid. He was like that when Ed found him." Wayne smiles. Steve looks at him, straight faced, unimpressed. One of Eddie's favorite looks to wax poetic about.
"Very funny." He says dryly. Wayne chuckles, taps his hand on the table and says,
"I thought so. Anyway, point is. If that boy's teeth have sunk into you at some point. Odds are he likes ya just fine." Wayne smiles warmly, watches the gears turning in Steve's head, his brow furrowing and then relaxing as his mouth drops open in a little "O".
"So he'd say yes. If I- I mean if I wanted to-" he watches Steve swallow nervously.
"If you asked him out. Yes. I believe he would say yes." Wayne just watches Steve, takes a sip of his coffee. Steve nods to himself.
"Okay. Okay cool. I can do this. Awesome. Thank you!" He'd stood, hands wiping at his thighs, patting down his pockets, looking for his keys, before startling and turning back to Wayne to thank him.
"They're on the table by the door. And you're welcome son." He took another sip.
"And Steve?" He calls as Steve's hand hits the door, the boy turns to look at him, wide eyed.
"Yeah?"
"He can be a little... dense. When it comes to these things. Best to be forward. To the point." Wayne nods again, gives Steve a knowing look. Watches as his head tilts like a puppy as he processes.
"Forward. To the point. Okay. I got this." Steve said, nodding, to himself really, before darting out the door.
Wayne shakes his head, smiles as he cleans out his coffee cup and hopes that he'd done right by his boy. He couldn't take much more of Eddie's love sick puppy eyes. And Steve had been doing them for a few months now as well, and it was all too much. It had to be done.
~*~
Three hours later the trailer door slams open and Eddie rushes in. Steve hot on his heels, hand locked in Eddie's as he drags him down the hall.
"Evening boys." Wayne says, nonchalant, from his place near the stove, leaning against the counter.
"Hi Wayne!" Steve calls, happy and polite.
"No!" Eddie says, points at Steve aggressively and then to Wayne.
"No more talking! You two have talked enough today!" He half yells, and then drags Steve into his room, both of them laughing. His door slams shut. And then promptly opens again. Eddie bounds into the little kitchen, right into Wayne's space, and nearly tackles him in a tight hug.
Wayne squeezes him back, feels Eddie's lips press gently against his shoulder and then he's gone. Twirling away from his uncle's hold.
"Thanks Wayne." He says, his eyes bright and shining, his cheeks dimpled with happiness, and, right along his jaw, the imprint of teeth. A bitemark. Right on his face.
Wayne nods, and smiles as Eddie disappears into his room again. He can hear them talking and laughing through the wall as he makes dinner. Dinner for three now. As it has been for months.
He cooks. And he thinks. Three hours later and Steve still had to bite him to get his point across. Wayne shakes his head, smiling as he breaks the noodles and tosses them into the water, happy that his boys were finally happy.
#just a little something i thought of last night#and had to write outbefore i took my nap!!!#wayne munson#eddie munson#steve harrington#wayne munson pov#steddie#eddie and wayne munson#mine#my writing
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I love your writing <3 I saw “he so likes her” on the enemies to lovers but I so saw it pairing with the “me? I wouldn’t say I was flirting.” On the denial of feelings list. Eddie absolutely oblivious to the heart eyes he’s making as he pulls his hair in front of his face while chatting together
ty angel! hope you like it :D — eddie munson visits you at work every day, but not because he likes you (enemies to lovers-ish, fluff, 1.1k)
You hear Eddie before you see him. The clinking of his silver rings, the swishing of his leather jacket, the thudding of his worn sneakers. His musky cologne swaddles you in a cloud of his subtle scent before he’s even there. You’re smiling about it all before you mean to.
Crouched in the X-rated section of Family Video, you restock the vulgar printed tapes and glance up at the boy towering over you. Eddie’s smiling, too — perhaps bigger than he realizes.
“Don’t tell me you came all this way to keep me company, Munson,” you tease with narrowed eyes.
“No,” the boy scoffs, a little less than convincing. He props his shoulder against the metal shelf and crosses his arms over his chest. “I have much better things to do with my Friday nights. Trust me.”
Your knees creak in protest when you rise to stand before him. You cross your arms to resemble his stance and try to be normal about your forearms brushing his. “Do you?” you lilt, obviously sarcastic.
“Yeah,” he nods with a crooked smile on his pretty pink mouth. “I could give you their names.”
“Spare me,” you scoff, rolling your eyes and spinning on your heel. Eddie follows you like a lost puppy to the front counter. “You know, if you’re gonna flirt with me, maybe try not to mention other girls. I think that’s, like, rule number one.”
Eddie’s face swirls at your words. The cartoonish look of confusion makes you smile as you round the checkout station. He forces a chuckle and props his elbows on the countertop, leaning over it in a desperate attempt to be closer to you.
“There are no—” he starts, then cuts himself off. There are no other girls, he’d say if he weren’t a total coward. But, for the sake of keeping his cards to his chest, he settles on, “—I’m not flirting with you.”
Your brow arches in a playful look of inquiry. “No?”
Eddie almost caves, then. It’s almost like you want him to say yes — to admit that he’s been flirting with you this whole time because he’s loved you since the moment he met you. It would be the truth, anyway. One that he’s spent over a year shying from.
“No,” he echoes and shakes his wild head, surprising himself with his own self-control. “No, I’m— We’re just— We’re having a conversation. ‘Cause, you know, we’re friends. I guess.”
His face scrunches like there’s something sour on his tongue. He doesn’t even like the taste of his own words.
You squint. “Do all of your friendly conversations typically include making heart eyes at the other person?” you joke with a poorly held-back grin.
Eddie falters for a moment, knowing he’s long been found out. He decides to lie anyway. Dig the hole deeper, as it were. “Yeah, actually,” he nods. “You’ve seen the way I look at Steve, haven’t you?”
You laugh before you mean to. The sunshine sound sputters up your throat and out of your mouth before you can stop it. Eddie must not realize how he often looks at Steve The Hair Harrington — with softly squinted eyes and gently furrowed brows — like he can never quite understand what the fuck the boy is talking about.
“Right,” you nod, still giggling.
Eddie smiles at the pretty sound. The spearmint breath of your laughter fans across his cheek at the close proximity — one which neither of you seems eager to part from. “Yeah, so… Don’t let it go to your head, alright? There’s no flirting here.”
So you drove twenty minutes across town in a half-broken-down van to have a serious conversation? you’d ask if you felt like going around in circles.
Instead, you just nod. “Noted...”
“Now, tell me,” he starts, tilting his pretty head until his curls bunch at his shoulder. “What should me and my number of escapades watch for the evening? You know, as the resident expert and all?”
You laugh at the absurdity of his question. “I don’t know. Just— choose something,” you murmur unenthusiastically.
“I want you to choose for me,” he pouts.
“Why?” you retort, leaning against the counter to lessen the cavernous distance.
The sudden closeness has a very obvious effect on the boy across from you. His adam’s apple bobs as his tongue darts across his bottom lip. You’re close enough to kiss now. He can almost taste you.
“So you can play it as background noise and think of me while you and this very fictitious person make out on your couch?”
“Well… I’ll probably be thinking about you either way, so…” Eddie answers when his senses return to him, shrugging with a stupid, lopsided grin. “Whether you recommend something or not doesn’t really matter.”
The look he gives you makes your stomach whirl. His eyes, made of melted chocolate, get all squishy at the edges when he looks at you. Something warm and fond swims in his gaze, speckles along his flushed cheeks, and sparkles in his smile. It’s so stupidly sincere for a boy who can’t seem to take anything seriously. The notion all but stabs you in the chest.
“You’re doing it again, you know?” you tease.
His fluffy brows pinch together. “Doing what?”
“The heart eyes thing.”
“There is no thing!” he insists with a loud, boyish laugh. “I’m just— I’m just looking at you! Is that a crime?”
“Just sayin’,” you singsong with an absentminded shrug.
Your gaze glimmers with knowing and something close to adoration as it flits up and down his form. Eddie squirms beneath your prying eyes. His ringed hands rise to his hair, gathering the untamed curls and hiding his blushing face behind them.
“Here,” he mumbles behind his palms and chestnut locks. “Is this better for you?”
You giggle at his antics, slightly grieving his pretty face. “Much,” you nod despite yourself.
Steve and Robin watch the strange encounter from afar. They peer over the Action/Adventure aisle they’re supposed to be restocking — equal parts distracted and nosey. The boy’s scruffy face twists as he watches Eddie try hopelessly to flirt with you. “This is disgusting,” he murmurs under his breath.
“Do you think he knows?” Robin laughs, deep and gritty, as she stands on the tips of her toes to see over the metal shelf.
“Knows what?”
“That he’s obsessed with her?”
“Hell no! Look at him—” Steve scoffs, jutting his chin to the wild-haired boy across the room.
Eddie’s got his rings all tangled in his hair now. His cheeks glow red as you help unknot the silver jewelry from his curls. He’s visibly embarrassed, but he can’t stop beaming at you. It’s borderline gag-worthy.
“—He’s got no fucking clue.”
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#stranger things x reader#stranger things imagine#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fluff#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti drabble
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Gareth is in charge of the Corroded Coffin official TikTok account, being the only one who actually uses social media on a daily basis.
He's playing Fuck Marry Kill with the three random celebrities generator and trying to make the other guys join as well.
When it's Eddie's turn, he's having none of it "they're just gonna get mad at me because I know no one! let me live in peace!"
Gareth insists until he shoves the phone in Eddie's face, giving him no chance to escape. The filter generates three pictures on top of Eddie's face.
"I have no fucking clue who these people-" he stops talking as his eyes focus on the last picture, it's a man around his age with voluminous hair and beautiful features. Eddie pulls the phone up close, ripping it out of Gareth's hand, to have a better look.
"you okay man?" Gareth asks, out of frame.
"Kiss, have sex with, marry, and adopt a puppy with him," he says, pointing at the guy on the screen "kill the other two."
"That's not how you play man, the fuck??" Gareth appears in frame and looks at the celebrities "you mean the third guy? are you serious?"
Eddie glares at him sideways "have you fucking seen him? he's a fucking-" but the video is cut off by the time limit.
The most liked comment under the video is by none other than famous baseball player Steve Harrington:
"I'm more of a cat type, but how about we discuss it over dinner? ;)"
--
More of this story here
#steddie#steddie headcanon#steve and eddie#steve x eddie#steddie prompt#prompts#famous eddie munson#famous steve harrington#guitarist eddie munson#baseball player steve harrington#tiktok au#celebrities au#corroded coffin#sbc writes#ficlets
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sucking off virgin!eddie blurb?
Cw: hand job, blow job, hair pulling, swallowing, dirty talk, pet names, g!n Reader.
You had Eddie lying back on the plush blankets by and pillows of your bed. You watched and his chest rise and fall rapidly as your fingers traced the outline of the prominent bulge imprinted in his sweatpants.
“You okay baby?” You cock your head curiously.
Baby. Eddie could have come then and there just buy the name of endearment alone.
“Y-yes” he stumbled out and he tried so hard to keep his cool, trying so hard not to cum just by your fingers lightly tracing his hard cock.
“I can’t wait to taste you.” You smirk as you hook your fingers under the grey elastic waistband. You were truly excited to see what he’s been hiding from you.
“Fuck” he bites as your words swim around in his head. You can’t wait to taste him. You want to have his cock in your mouth, to please him, to worship him.
“You like that baby?” You observed as his cock twitched once it was free of its confines.
He bites his lip and frantically nods his head, his small sweaty tendrils covering his forehead bounced up and down with it.
“Oh honey, you’re so big” you coo. Your praises make Eddie whimper.
“Please” he brings a shaky hand up to your face. You lean into him a touch. He was so sweet, so gentle, and you were about to ruin him.
“Don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of you” you kiss the inside of his palm before giving it a teasing lick. A little preview to what you’re about to do his cock.
“Shit” Another whimper leaves his lips.
You spit into your palm before gently griping his cock with the right about of pressure. You stroke it once, twice, three times before dipping your head down to teasingly give the pink leaky head a few kitten licks, ease him into it.
You feel his wide hand spread across the back of your head lightly resting it there, not knowing what to do with it. Wanting to press your head further but he knew better than to do that.
“It’s ok Ed’s, you can touch me” you gazed up at him with puppy dog eyes as you dip your head lower so you can lick him from base to tip.
“Shit shit shit” Eddie could die right now. He was being so uncool but it didn’t matter because use you were making him feel so good. Oh god he can’t believe how warm and wet your tongue was and you hadn’t even started yet.
You finally dip your head down lower and lower until you take him as far as you could. You swirl your tongue around his thick long shaft, bobbing your head up and down slowly before speeding up.
Nope it was official, Eddie died and was in heaven. This was it, no way there could be something better than this. (Little does he know yes there is in fact, but you’ll show him another day )
He wasn’t going to last much longer, not with your magical mouth working his throbbing cock so good. His breath quickened as he tried holding off, he thought of puppies, grandmas, anything that was not the delicious feeling that you were serving to him.
“Baby baby baby” he panted as you glided your soft wet lips along his velvet skin of his shaft. Your mouth suctioned into home like a vice, coming up to the tip and swirling around and that’s what did it for Eddie.
“I’m cumingI’m cumingI’m cuming!” His stomach clenched his head popped up off the bed and the grip on the back of your head tightened, pulling your hair taught. You let his cum run down the back of your throat before licking up everything. You open your mouth showing him you’ve swallowed everything.
“Holy shit” Eddie flops back on the bed totally spent.
“You okay?” You giggle crawling up his chest before he latches his strong arms around you.
“If I ever say no to one of those ever, I give you permission to slap me ok”
You can’t help but giggle as Eddie peppers kisses all along your face.
“Thank you” he blushes.
“You think that’s fun baby? Just you wait” you wink.
#SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG#eddie munson x reader#Eddie Munson x you#eddie munson smut#virgin!eddie munson#virgin!eddie munson x reader#virgin!eddie munson x you#virgin!eddie munson smut#requests#tj’s mailbox
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Mr. Mechanic - E.M.
wordcount- 1.5K
warnings: spitting, choking, p in v sex, older Eddie ((he’s 40 and reader is 29)) name calling, roughness, cum eating, they almost get caught, if any of this makes you uncomfortable please don’t read it and lemme know if I missed something and I’ll add it to the warnings! Do not read unless you’re eighteen or over, thank you! feedback welcome as always! ❤️ @voyeurmunson thanks for the help on this sweetheart!
“Y’know we don’t have very much time sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear, deep and full of lust. You moan quietly, biting your lip hard to keep yourself as quiet as possible as his hands run themselves down your torso and to the top of your jeans. “Just couldn’t help yourself could you, had to walk in here looking like absolute sin? Bet your daddy doesn’t like that very much does he?” You fight the urge to roll your eyes, pushing your ass back against him hard, feeling his hips dig into you, his obvious bulge pressing up against your ass. “Quit talking and get to it already Mr. Munson, before he catches us.” He shushes you quickly, wrapping one of his hands around your throat and pulling your head back so he can lean down close to you, you groan out as his brown eyes narrow at you. “That’s not how you fucking talk to me is it baby?” You shake your head ‘no’, earning a disappointed look from Eddie. “I thought I taught you better than this doll. You answer me with words.” He says harshly, quickly letting go of your throat to push your pants down hastily. You look down, watching your clothing hit the dirty shop’s flooring, ‘oh well I can wash those later’ your mind quickly focuses back on the older man behind you as you watch his thick fingers hook into the sides of the tiny thong you purposely wore just for him today. “Baby have I ever told you why your dad watches me so closely when you’re around?” You go to shake your head before remembering his rule, muttering out a quiet ‘no’ instead. “Your dad only watches me when you’re here, he knows I can’t keep my eyes off of you, and I think you like knowing that this is wrong. I could get fired for this, but I don’t care.” You fight back a smirk, you naturally knew the effect you had on Eddie, it was pretty obvious. Every time you made a trip to your dad’s car shop, Eddie was always following you around like a lost puppy. It was adorable to you, but your dad hated it. You wanted to talk back and tell him how he’s ’not slick’ but you didn’t get the chance, hearing his belt being buckled behind you sent your brain into overdrive, your legs shaking with anticipation as you bend further over the car, waiting for him to give you what you need. “Tell me baby, do you like showing up here, looking like a slut? Do you like making me so hard that I feel as if I could cum in my pants again like some virgin who can’t control themselves?” You bite your lip hard as his ringed hand slaps down onto your ass, before he’s digging his blunt nails into it, causing pleasure and pain to shoot its way through your body, your toes curling in your shoes as you do your best to answer him. He doesn’t give you very much time to reply before he’s pushing his boot in between your shaking legs, spreading them apart for him. Your body jolts as you feel something wet slide down from your ass to your pussy, shockwaves of pleasure course their way all through you as you realize that he just spit on you, ‘dirty old fucker.’ You thought, laughing slightly before the air feels as if it’s being punched out of you, he doesn’t even warm you up before he’s pushing the tip of his cock against you, muttering out about how you have the ‘prettiest pussy’ he’s ever seen. You clench your eyes tightly, the feeling of how big he is isn’t something you’re used to, his big hands are placed gently on your hips as he pushes in further and further, just when you think you can’t take much more he bottoms out inside of you, his hips pressed up snug against your ass as you clench around him. The intensity of how deep he is makes you feel like you could pass out, but it was the most delicious thing you’d ever felt. Your eyes threaten to roll to the back of your head as he pushes you down flat against the car in front of you, he places his hand right in the middle of your back, holding you down as you squirm beneath him, he thrusts once, twice, before he’s picking up the pace, Eddie Munson is anything but gentle when it comes to fucking, and you were finding that out.
You moan loudly, trying to find a place to grip on the car but it’s too slick, your hands sliding down it pathetically as you cry and drool all over the hood. “Oh baby, you look so pathetic, look at you making a mess on my customer's car. You’re cleaning that up when we’re done here.” He laughs, pushing in even deeper as his other hand digs into your hip, it’ll cause a bruise later but you’d welcome the reminder of being taken apart by him like this. “Dirty old man.” You spit out rolling your eyes no, as he fucks you harder than you’ve ever been fucked in your life, tears well up in your eyes as he slaps your ass again. “Sorry, what’s that? Oh wait, look who’s the one getting fucked by the ‘dirty old man’ awww sweetheart you really wounded me.” You clench around him again, your brain fuzzy and floating as your orgasm approaches. “Fuck… Eddie please…” you moan, pushing up a little to look back at him. He was a sight to be seen, the bun that he was sporting earlier in the day was gone, his crazy curls were everywhere, framing around his face beautifully. He’d pulled his shirt up enough for you to be able to see his stomach flexing every time he slid back into you, you wanted to run your tongue all over him and never stop. “Please what?” He pouts at you, laughing sadistically as you push back against him, asking for more. “W-wanna cum, please let me cum, can’t hold it anymore.” You cry out, not even waiting for him to allow you before your orgasm comes crashing down, Eddie moans out behind you, keeping his grip on you and grinding his hips against you slowly, letting you ride out the waves of pleasure making their way through you. You slump against the car lazily, your breathing slowing down some as you sigh. “You’re precious, get up and get your ass on that car, right now.” The assertiveness in his tone is all the motivation you need as you sit up quickly, pushing your pants off the rest of the way and spinning yourself around, sitting down on the car before scooting back on it and spreading your legs. “Keep them open for me sweetheart, gonna cum all over your pretty pussy.” You look up at him, his eyes black with lust as he strokes himself in front of you. You wanted to suck him off but there was no time to, ‘maybe another day’, you think as he tenses up in front of you. “C'mon Mr. Munson, give it to me.” The most beautiful sound comes out of his mouth as you lay back in front of him, he strokes one more time before he’s cumming all over your pussy, some of it is hitting the car beneath you, it’s an absolute mess, but so hot. You look up at him and smirk before pulling him down into a kiss, it’s filthy and full of want. As soon as you go to speak you hear the door rattle on the other side of the room. “Oh shit… my dad!” You whisper, trying to get off the car as quickly as you can while Eddie pulls his clothes back up. “No wait, get over there and clean up the car. I can’t have him see that.” He says, staring directly at you. “How am I supposed to do that Eddie?!” He laughs quietly, and points to your mouth, you don’t have time to think as you hear keys being put into the door, you quickly drop down and pick up all of his cum off of the hood, before standing back up, grabbing your pants and getting them up as fast as you can before turning to Eddie again for a moment. “Show me.” He whispers, grabbing onto your chin and tilting your face up towards him. You stick your tongue out proudly, before swallowing and leaning up to kiss him sweetly. “Get to work Mr. Munson, I'll see you some other time.” You whisper smiling at him before sneaking out the back door, just in time to hear your dad come into the shop. “There you are Eddie! I’ve got another job for you, but do you want to go grab some lunch first?” You hear him say as you laugh, walking back down the street towards your car.
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#older eddie munson#older eddie#eddie munson x female character#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem smut
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Drunk Snuggles
Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader
Summary : Eddie gets a little drunk at a party and wants to cuddle his girlfriend.
Word Count : 1.7K
Warnings : mentions of alcohol, Eddie getting a little sad, it’s angsty for like a second, major fluff, fluffy Eds, none sexual nakedness, use of Y/N, pet names, not proof read.
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
Laughing as you spoke to Robin, you could feel the music thumping around the room. You were at a house party, it wasn’t something you did a lot but you felt like it.
“I think our peace is going to be disturbed,” Robin said, motioning to somewhere behind you. Turning you saw your other friend Steve Harrington, he looked flushed in his face.
When he reached you he spoke, “You need to come deal with your boy, he’s something else with booze in his system.”
“Where is he?” You asked.
“The garden, I left him on a lounger.”
You nodded and headed through the crowd of dancing bodies to get to the back door. It was much quieter out there, not many people. A few were smoking and others making out.
The curly haired boy lay on a lounger, staring up at the sky. An almost empty bottle of beer loosely hanging from his hand. Making your way to him you could only smile.
“Hey,” you spoke softly, to not make him jump. Hearing your voice he shot up, “Hey!” Attempting to stand and make his way to you, he cackled as he wobbly, nearly falling flat on his face.
You quickly grabbed him, ensuring that he stayed up right. “Careful Eds,” you said, holding him by the waist. Giving you a goofy grin, he sighed, “You’re so beautiful, where did you go?”
“Just talking to Robin babe, I did tell you.”
“Yeah but you were gone agessss,” he whined, lips falling into a pout. “20 minutes isn’t ages.”
“It is, my favourite girl left me for 20 whole minutes, that’s like … a million seconds!”
“A million?”
“Mhm,” he nodded.
“Well I’m back now.”
“Yeah,” he smiled again, hugging you tightly.
You hadn’t seen Eddie get drunk too many times, but on the few occasions you did, you noticed he became a lot more touchy than usual.
“Love you so much,” he slurred.
“I love you too.”
“Yeah?” He asked, pulling away to look at your face. “Yeah, I love you.” He laughed, shyly hiding his face, in your neck.
“What’s funny?” You asked.
“The prettiest girl in the whole of Hawkins .. in the whole world … the whole universe! Loves me, Eddie Munson. Who’d have thought,” he rambled on.
“How much have you had to drink pretty one?”
“Just a couple.”
“Mhm. Sure you did. Should’ve kept an eye on you.”
“I’m sorry, are you mad at me?” He asked, eyes almost teary when he looked at you.
“Oh no,” you said, softly stroking his face, “I’m glad you’re having fun.”
“Mhm, I was. But then you left me! Then Steve said he’d find you, tell you to come and see me if I promised to stay on the lounger.”
“And here I am,” you smiled.
“Mhm! You found me!”
“Course I did, can’t lose my favourite boy can I?”
“I’m your favourite boy?” He asked, tilting his head like a puppy. “Yeah baby, you’re my favourite person.”
His face flushed at that, gosh he was so cute. “Could we maybe go home now though?” He asked.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah I just-” he mumbled something into your neck.
You laughed, “Pretty one I can’t hear you when you talk there, tell me what you said.”
“I wanna … go home and cuddle.”
“You wanna cuddle?”
“So bad,” he said softly, head resting on your shoulder.
“We can do that, let’s go say goodbye and then I’ll drive us home.”
“Home?”
“The trailer Eds.”
“It’s your home?”
“Wherever you are is my home Eddie.”
He looked like he was about to burst into tears, but instead he held the sides of your face and planted a kiss on your mouth. “Love you so much.”
“Love you too baby.”
You unwinded your arms from his waist and took his hand, “Lets go say bye then.” Walking back into the party you saw your friends.
They waved at you as you made your way over, a stumbling Eddie behind you. “Careful,” you said, to which he just laughed.
You hugged Nancy, Steve, Robin and Jonathan goodbye. Making sure they all had ways to get home safe, feeling Eddie almost tugging you towards the door.
“Good luck with him tonight Y/L/N,” Steve said. “Thanks Harrington, see you guys later.”
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
When you arrived at the car, you helped Eddie in as he had turned into bambi on ice. No idea how to control his long limbs. “Steady babe, mind your head,” you said, placing your hand on his curls and he got into your car.
He pulled his legs in and sighed as he leaned back against the leather seat. Leaning over to do his seatbelt, he pecked your cheek. Once. Twice. Three times.
“Comfy?” He nodded, you smiled. Shutting the door and climbing to your side, repeating the same actions as Eddie had done, you began your drive to Eddies.
The car was quiet, only the rumbling of the engine making a sound. Whilst you changed gears you felt another hand on yours, Eddie linking your fingers. “You okay?”
“Miss you.”
“Sweet boy I’m right here,” you chuckled.
“Not close enough.”
“Well we can be close and cuddle as soon as we get in and ready for bed okay?”
“Mhm. How longs it gonna take?”
“‘Bout 5 minutes Eds.”
Letting out an audible whine, you looked over at your boyfriend. “What?”
“Too long.”
“You’ll be okay. You’ve got my hand and we can talk.”
“What about?”
“Anything.”
He let out a sigh, thinking of something to say. “Can I ask a question?”
“Sure, go for it babe.”
“Why me?”
“Why you what?” You furrowed your brows, not understanding what he meant.
“Why would you want to be with me?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re kind, and funny, and a great friend. I love spending time with you. You make me happy, and laugh so much. You’re a beautiful souls Eddie.”
You heard him sniffle. Pulling into the trailer park, Eddie hadn’t spoke since your little speech. “Here we go Pretty one, we’re home.”
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
Turning off the car and climbing out you walked round to help Eddie, finding him tearing up. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked, stroking his face.
“You just said … such nice things!” He cried out, “ so nice and I just love you and you love me and it’s just nice.”
“Oh baby, come on let’s get in. You need some cuddles huh?”
He nodded, rubbing his face and taking your hands to get out the car. Locking it, you walked into the trailer. Wayne was lay on the couch watching a show.
“Hey kids how was the party?” He asked.
“It was good we had fun,” you smiled at the older man. “Good I’m glad, have you eaten?” He questioned.
“Baby,” Eddie whined in your ear, arms wrapping around you from behind. “Yeah, there were snacks and stuff so we’re good. Thank you though.” He hummed at you.
“I assume he’s drunk a bit?” Nodding to Eddie. “Yeah, I’m gonna get him to bed.”
“Call if you need anything Sweetheart.”
“Will do. Say night Eds.”
“Night Pops.”
“Night Son, don’t give her any trouble.”
“Would never!”
You laughed, “Come on Pretty one let’s go to bed.”
“For cuddles?”
“Mhm cuddles, let’s go.” Eddie dragged you to his room, throwing the door open. Falling over his bed to turn on his lamp.
“Be careful!” You said, shutting the door behind you. “‘M okay.”
“Come on, let’s get changed.” You went to his draws grabbing some plaid pants, handing them to him.
Taking out one of his old shirts and some shorts for yourself, you went to him. “You want some help?” You asked.
“Please.”
“Okay Sweet Boy, shoes first, can you take your rings off for me?”
“‘Mkay.”
Undoing his laces and pulling his shoes from his feet, you placed them by his others, sliding off your own. “Done it,” he said, passing you his many rings, you placed them on the top of his dresser, yours once again being placed next to them.
“Okay jacket and shirt next,” you helped him get his arms out and his head out of his shirt, throwing them to the washing bin in his room. “Want a shirt? Or just bottoms?”
“Bottoms.”
“Okay pretty one, let’s get you out of your jeans then.”
You undid his belt as his hands didn’t want to listen to his head, along with the button and zipper. Sliding them off his legs, “Want to keep your underwear on?”
“No.”
“Can I do it?”
“Mhm. Never have to ask.”
“That’s sweet babe, but I do. Let’s get em off.” You’d seen Eddie naked plenty of times, not always in a sexual manor, well actually it was less sexual that it was sweet moments.
You’d shower together just because, washing each others hair sweetly, you’d lay together, bare just to be close. He liked skin on skin you’d learned. Comforted him.
“Can you put these on so I can get changed?” You asked.
“Mhm.” He quietly took the pants off you and began to slide his feet in. Sliding off you jacket and top you slid into his. Doing the same with your own jeans, getting into your shorts.
Placing them in the hamper, you opened another draw, pulling out some wipes. You cleaned your face off in front of the mirror. Looking in it you saw Eddie watching you, now in his pyjamas.
“Beautiful,” he said.
“Hm?”
“You’re beautiful.”
“So are you.” He flushed again, dropping onto the bed and chuckling into his hands. You couldn’t help but grin, wiping off any remaining mascara and threw the wipe into the trash.
“Come on then let’s cuddle.” Shuffling up the bed, you both climbed under the blanket. Turing off the light, Eddie rested his head on your chest, wild curls everywhere. “You want me to tie it up?” You asked.
“Can you play with it?” Sleep evident in his voice.
“Sure thing.” Fingers running through his curls, his arm wrapped around your face and he snuggled into your chest. “I love you Y/N.”
“I love you too Pretty, now get some sleep.”
“‘Mkay.”
Kissing the top of his head, he hummed, soon drifting off into dreamland. You following behind not far after, the sound of Wayne’s show playing quietly filling the darkness.
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍
#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x yn#joe quinn#joe quinn imagine#eddie stranger things#eddie x fem!reader#eddie x you#eddie x y/n#eddie x reader#stranger things#stranger things imagine#joseph quinn#fluff#oneshot#imagine#louloulemons
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eddie who's cynical and grumpy only because he hasn't had proper aftercare. most people just roll over or leave when they're done and those that do stay to cuddle, it's Eddie holding them and never the other way around. He doesn't want to admit that it makes him feel dissatisfied afterwards, like the sex wasn't even worth it, because he got laid, that's the point, why complain? But there's just something... missing (and I figure aftercare wasn't as talked about in the 80s so he isn't really too sure what that something is)
Until a night with reader where they have absolutely mind-blowing sex, parting with heavy breaths and as Eddie's heart rate starts to slow back down to normal again, he's waiting for reader to grab their clothes, roll over on their side, something that breaks the connection and makes his heart drop. But they don't, reaching out a weak hand (because they're sluggish waiting for their soul to return to their body) to rub his arm. A gentle back and forth, which feels nice, but Eddie's suspicious. What is this, why are they doing it, and why does it feel good?
And then, "Can I play with your hair?" (from the muse prompt lol) and he's agreeing with a shrug and when reader starts to card their fingers through his curls and massage his scalp, Eddie melts. It's like a whole brain recalibration. His icy heart getting thawed out just because someone made sure to take care of him too. And if reader wakes up earlier in the morning just to ask how he likes his eggs? Eddie's already decided that he's gotta lock them down.
+18 mdni
cw: p in v sex, cockwarming
It’s you tipping over the edge into orgasm, choking his cock with your velvet walls, soft whine spilling from the back of your throat, that takes Eddie with you.
As he comes, he burrows his face into your neck. Your hands reach for his skull to draw him closer, and he unintentionally bites down a bit too hard on the soft skin of your neck.
You let out a gasp, fingers seizing in his hair, and he’s quick to pull his mouth up, kissing and soothing over the spot he’s left with his teeth.
“Shit, sorry, sweetheart,” he pants, the affection slipping out despite himself.
“It’s’okay,” you mumble out in one word, limbs going to putty, hands extricating themselves from his hair.
Eddie rises to his elbows and moves to gingerly pull out but you stop him, fingers flying up to dig into the meat of his biceps.
“Wait, can you- will you just stay in? For a little bit?”
You’re not kidding, he can tell- you’ve got a wounded puppy look that he’s dying to change. Eddie sinks slowly back into you, rotates his hips a bit so you take less of his weight, and settles his head on your collarbone.
A big, dreamy sigh, from you- like you’re perfectly content because of how close Eddie is.
His eyes flutter shut when you begin tracing light lines with the pads of your fingers over his bare back.
“What’cha doin’?” Eddie murmurs into the skin of your sternum.
Up his spine, circling under the curtain of hair against his neck, down the spine again; looping and rhythmic. Your hands don’t slow as you whisper “Lovin’ on you, weirdo. Hush.”
You can feel the well of his dimples against your skin as he smiles.
“Can I play with your hair?” you ask quietly, and before he’s even finished nodding you’ve got both hands winding into his dark locks.
You start gentle, thumbs at his temples, light touches against his scalp, but when your hands find the roots you give a short but hard tug.
The little flash of pain goes straight to his dick, and he bucks into you with a low groan, half filled-out already.
“You gonna give me another pretty mark to look at?” you purr.
Eddie lifts his head from your chest and grazes his teeth into the opposing side of your neck just below your ear, in tandem with a sharp snap of his hips.
He catches your clit beneath his thumb and grins wicked when you moan, pulling up again to look down at you as he says, “Gimme another one of your pretty orgasms and we’ve got a deal.”
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Double Down, Triple Threat
Summary: insecure!Eddie x bartender!Reader
Eddie is constantly flirting with you after his Corroded Coffin sets at the Hideout, and you have the bad habit of flirting back. What happens when you overhear a conversation that wasn’t meant for you? Maybe you’ve had the wrong idea about the cocky metalhead who negs you for free drinks. Now you need to take it into your own hands to resolve some built up tension.
Smut, as always, with a touch of angst but generally fluff/happy ending.
Word count: 18k (eek! in retrospect I maybe should have split this into multiple parts but...fuck it, brevity has never been my strong suit LOL) Buckle up for a doozy.
Content warnings: smut, afab reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol consumption, smoking, the devil’s lettuce, mention of Eddie's scars and sustained injuries (slightly canon divergent obviously because our boy is ALIVE here, but the events of season 4 generally stand otherwise), also Eddie does some negative self talk where he refers to himself as mutilated but everything is happy in the end I promise, and scars are nothing to be insecure about he's just down in the dumps you feel me?, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), unprotected PIV sex (plz use protection irl), pet names, reader and Eddie shower together
A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted a fic on here, but I hope all y’all who are still riding the Eddie Munson thirst train enjoy this :) I’m trying to regain the motivation to write more, so hopefully more fics to come soon (no promises though lol) (maybe some Steve? Steddie x Reader? Let me know what y’all want to see.) I
"I'll have the usual," his hoarse voice and boisterous presence cut through what few other customers sat at your bar, forcing your attention his way.
"Yeah, and what would that be?" you try to give him your best deadpan voice, unsure yet if you were in the mood for his antics.
"Come on, like I ever order anything other than a whiskey and coke," his curly dark hair stuck slightly to his damp forehead, not having bothered to wipe the sweat from his brow in between the stage and the bar. If you could even call it a stage. It was more of a sad corner with an extension cable and a few amps that his grunting bandmates were lugging back into their truck while he very helpfully came over and tried to flirt with the bartender. You were the only bartender. On Friday nights anyways.
"That's because you're unoriginal," his drink was already half made as you flick your eyes up through your lashes at him, knowing he was watching you intently, not that he was particular about how his drink was made by any stretch. "You're actually going to pay for it this time," you slid the glass over to him, "I'm not joking."
"You wound me," he tries his best to give you puppy dog eyes, "but I'm pretty sure Randy mentioned something about drink tickets when we negotiated our new Friday slot."
"That's not a thing," you make up menial tasks behind the bar to keep your hands and eyes busy while he relentlessly chats with you, "never has been. Plus if I keep giving you free drinks you'll get the idea that I like you or something."
Fuck, you told yourself you should stop flirting back with him. Your first excuse had been professionalism, which didn't make a lick of sense considering you were a bar back at this hole in the wall that paid local bands in drink tickets, apparently. Your second excuse had been that as fun as Eddie was to chat with, you hardly knew anything about him other than his loud band and his drink order.
Unfortunately he liked to chat and sooner than later you knew more about him than you wanted to. Your newest excuse? If you kept flirting back with him he might get the idea that he could see you outside of this dingy bar, and you liked the comfort and safety of the three feet of wood separating you, it kept you from doing something you might regret.
"Don't act like you didn't like our set," he threw the rest of his drink back, "I saw you watchin' from over here."
"Yeah, well you're kind of hard to ignore, you know, with the volume and all," your voice had a too-playful tone that you mentally noted to dial back on.
If you were being honest, Corroded Coffin was one of the weekly acts that you didn't entirely mind. Most were groups of middle aged men trying to relive the glory days by booking a weeknight at the Hideout, instruments barely tuned and a setlist that was decades out of style. While Eddie's band certainly wasn't everyone's cup of tea, you found yourself tapping your foot along with their songs more often than not. At least they were original, you’d give them that.
He held his glass up to signal a request for another. "Go help your friends carry all your shit," you swiped the cup from his hand, hating that you focused on how your fingers briefly touched his, "and then I'll make you another. And I'm charging you for both."
"Whatever you say, babe" he spun around three or four times on the bar stool before sauntering off and finally assisting with moving the amps and drum kit. You rolled your eyes, not that he was watching you anymore, but more to keep yourself from checking out how his shirt clung to his torso. His black t-shirt was always a size too small, revealing his tattoo covered arms that you never allowed yourself to stare long enough at to make out what any of them were.
Eddie was nice. As much as you liked to push each other's buttons and joke around, he was a lot more respectful than most patrons that tried their hand at flirting with you. He never said anything gross or disrespectful, not something you could say about most men who've had more than a few beers.
But you didn't want to risk pushing any boundaries with him, because you work here, and his band plays here weekly, religiously. You didn't want things to get weird, and as much as you learned how to avoid certain patrons, there was only so much space between the 'stage' and your station behind the bar.
Despite this, you have his second drink made before he finishes putting his stuff away, and you haven't started a tab for either of them. A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he notices his already-made drink set by his stool as he walks over from the back door. You couldn't help but feel a tiny smile creep up on your face as well.
"Really made me work for this one, huh?" he takes the first sip while still standing before setting back into his seat, "truly amazing service, best I've ever had, really." You glare at him while cleaning some cups absentmindedly with a rag. "Not sure if you can tip on a drink ticket though..."
"Fuck off," you giggle and throw the wet towel at him, "you can't charm your way into TWO free drinks you ass."
"Aww you think I'm charming?" the flirtations between you were always edged with sarcasm, which you both found a lot easier than admitting 'hey you need to stop looking at me like that or else I'm going to keep thinking about pinning you against this countertop.'
"No, I don't, which is why you're PAYING for both those drinks," a lie followed by another lie, and you both knew it. "Where'd your band go?"
"Why? 'm I boring you?" he didn't mind taking up all your attention when the other bar patrons were either too drunk to stand or too old to even notice that a metal band had performed for the past hour. "No one's ever accused Gareth of being more interesting than yours truly. Plus he doesn't drink anyways, so your venture capitalist instincts wont work on him." He raised his drink to punctuate his joke before taking another long swig.
"Ha ha," you don't give him the satisfaction of a real laugh, "I just wanted to make sure you had a ride home in case you try and swindle me into making you a third drink."
"Oh no, I told them all to scram, that I had a hot date with you and my unsettled tab," he leaned over the bar, trying to eliminate as much space between himself and you, "plus I've got a friend coming by to pick me up in a bit. So if you wanted to make me that third drink in exchange for me keeping you company while you close up, I certainly don't have any reason to turn you down."
"Fine," you point at him with a stern finger, "but this one'll be more coke than whiskey."
"Deal," he pointed his finger back at you, moving carefully in so the tips of your pointers touched. This made you genuinely laugh, unable to keep up a wall for too long around him.
He finished his second drink while you ordered last call, and settled up with crumpled cash and mumbled thank you’s from the few remaining drunks. After closing up the cash register you make him that more-coke-than-whiskey drink as promised, and get to wiping down every sticky surface.
"What's your drink?" he asks.
"Hmm?" you glance over from your hunched over position, trying to get the wet rag across the underside of the bar where someone had clearly spilt what appeared to be an entire pint of light beer.
"You know my drink order, I wanna know yours." you stand up straight and look at him.
You consider pushing back and demanding why he wanted to know, but it was late and you only had so many quips left in you, "Gin and tonic with extra lime." You get back to soaking up the spilt mess.
"Woooooow," his drink was finished and he took it upon himself to grab the broom from behind the bar and start sweeping up the bottle caps and tracked in dirt, "and you had the nerve to call me unoriginal."
"I'm not some creative rock and roll guitar guy like you, I don't need to be original, I'm just a bartender," you let him keep sweeping and start checking off other tasks from your closing list.
"You aren't just a bartender, give yourself more credit than that babe," he held up the dustpan full of crap, silently asking where to put it and you hold open a mostly full garbage bag for him to dump it into before tying it off, "judging by your drink order I would also guess that you're, hmmmm, an 85 year old man."
"Oh my god," you slap him on the arm with another half dirty hand towel, "in that case, you're doing voluntary manual labor just to flirt with this 85 year old man, so maybe you need to reevaluate your priorities."
He takes a few steps forward, not quite caging you against the bar, but nearly there. "And how am I doing? Is it working?" He's the closest he's ever been to you, jokingly sliding the broom around your feet, pretending to sweep while maintaining searing eye contact.
As the which-one-of-us-is-going-to-learn-in-first question buzzes around you, an irritating light flickers through the big front window, indicating someone had pulled their car right up to the curb with their high beams on. Eddie scrunches his nose up, and your urge to kiss him somehow grows despite his annoyed expression. "That's my ride."
You give him a small nod, turning your head to try and squint to see who could possibly be picking him up at this hour, but not making out much through the foggy glass. "I suppose I can manage the rest without you," you grab the broom from him, fingers touching for the second time tonight, "see you next week, rockstar."
Eddie wants to do something smooth, a wink or a clever line, but instead nervously gives you a nod and is out the front door before he can give it a second thought. The minute the door closes behind him you let out all the air you had been holding in your chest, both frustrated and slightly relieved. Eddie on the other hand- was bursting with regret and frustration, immediately running his hands through his hair and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket.
"Absolutely not," Steve craned his neck out of his car that always looked like it had just gotten a fresh wax and detail, "at least five feet away from the beemer if you're going to light that."
Eddie rolled his eyes, considering putting the cigarette back into the carton and getting the fuck away from this bar, but ultimately gave in and pivoted on his heel storming back towards the brick exterior and slumping against it as he flicked his lighter and took an aggressively deep pull.
"What's your damage?" Steve moved out of the expensive car, keeping a bit of distance from Eddie but close enough that the two could talk, "That bartender you like wasn't on or something?"
"She's inside closing up now, so keep your fuckin' voice down" he gave Steve a glare and then immediately an apologetic look for being so prickly, "I'm just bad at this shit, man."
"You can't be that bad at it, Gareth and Jeff said the two of you eye fuck across the room every Friday night," Steve shrugs, understanding Eddie's drawback but knowing his friend rarely gives himself the benefit of the doubt.
"Yeah, well, that's not the hard part," Eddie rips his cigarette and presses his wild hair deeper into the brick behind him, exhaling upwards.
You had taken note that Eddie's ride hadn't left yet, so you busied yourself for a minute before deciding who cares if you had to give him an awkward wave on your way across the parking lot, so you locked up and grabbed the trash to take to the dumpster out back before leaving for the night.
You really didn't mean to eavesdrop, but as soon as the back door clicked you heard their muffled conversation from around the corner. Rather than give away your presence with the clanging of the trash you gently set it against the wall and moved forward silently, staying out of sight but well within earshot.
"Flirting is the easy part, she's fuckin' easy to talk to, man" Eddie's voice carried, and you felt guilty but continued to listen, "I don't want to just fuck her though, I want to like, date...her."
"Oh," Steve's voice dropped knowingly, "well that's... good, I guess, that you like her like that."
"Well even if I didn't like her like that and was only looking to fuck her," he sighs out, and you carefully listen while furrowing your eyebrows, trying to make sense of their conversation, "she's gorgeous, and no girl that hot- scratch that no girl at all want's to fuck some mutilated freak."
"Don't call yourself a freak," Steve's voice seems apprehensive.
"Yeah, sure, but you can't say I'm not mutilated." There was a beat of silence, and you didn't have time to think too much about his words before he went off again, voice laced with thick sarcasm, "Oh hey babe, so glad you were able to look past that I live in a trailer park and all my neighbors think I'm a satan worshiping murderer, but I hope you can be cool with my singular nipple and weird lumpy scar tissue, I know it's super hot, you're gonna have to get in line." His voice carried easily far past your hiding spot.
"You're not giving her much credit dude," Steve was still apprehensive to respond, knowing how Eddie got when he started to spiral, "Maybe she's not that shallow."
"It's not that," Eddie's voice started to calm, "I'd just rather take my twenty minutes of flirting after our Friday gigs than risk it and have her look at me like she's sorry for me or something."
With that he snubbed out his cigarette butt with the toe of his combat boots, let out a big sigh, and moved to get into the passenger side of Steve's car. You take a few slow, careful steps back towards the slumped garbage bag and wait until you hear the engine start and see the lights pull out onto the opposite side of the road.
Fuck. Part of you felt incredibly guilty for listening to what was obviously meant to be a private conversation, especially a private conversation about you. But your gears were turning far too fast to get hung up on guilt.
You always felt apprehensive about Eddie because you figured he was a flirt, a player, the kind of guy who talks to all bartenders like that, and you just happened to be the one he flirted with after his Corroded Coffin shows. You never wanted to get too invested in making him smile or waiting around for him to chat you up, because you know how most guys are, especially guys who carry themselves with that much confidence. And you were fucking wrong.
Now fully realizing that the ball is in your court, you need to plan your first move. You decided, Eddie was worth taking the risk.
It was truly a shot in the dark, but if your intuition ended up being a bust then no one would know about your wasted afternoon other than yourself. The following afternoon you drove aimlessly up and down the unpaved residential streets of the trailer park. There were two in town but you had a pretty good feeling that this was the one.
You only started to feel stupid when you got some confused and slightly angry looks from people going about their business, hanging laundry or smoking on their porches, scrunching their noses and trying to make out the unfamiliar car driving in circles around their neighborhood.
Aha! There it was. You knew that your gut could only fail you so many times when it came to Eddie. Exactly what you had been looking for, a big black and blue 1971 Chevrolet van strewn with dents, patches of rust, and, your telltale sign, a homemade Corroded Coffin sticker crookedly placed on the faded chrome of the bumper.
Step one, complete. Step two was contingent on Eddie even being home. The presence of his van had you feeling hopeful.
You attempt to rid yourself of lingering nerves with a deep breath and silent pep talk. You park adjacent to his van and hop out before your legs can convince you not to, and suddenly you've rung the doorbell and are standing with your hands clasped nervously in front of his door.
"Just a minute," you hear him yell from inside, step two, complete, "What're you here for? Cuz I only got weed right now so if you're..." his hollering voice trails off from inside as he catches a glimpse of you through the screen. "Y/n? What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Jeez, hello to you too," you try to lace your voice with the same flirty edge that you always took with Eddie, but you didn't have the comfortable barrier of the bar or the security of being the person serving him his drinks.
"How the fuck do you know where I live?" His tone wasn't quite angry, but it was bordering on more pointed than just confused.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by totally unexpected," you suddenly felt vulnerable, regretting this whole stupid plan, "I can go."
You start to scurry back to your car and hide your face forever, but he cuts you off with, "No, no, just, why are you here?" He softened his voice, and came down the stoop to hover over you on the last step.
"Well," here goes nothing, "last night I felt like we sort of got interrupted." You pause, trying to gauge his reaction, "And I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I didn’t want to wait a whole week to see you again."
"Oh," his face and reaction didn't give you much of a clue as to what he was thinking.
"And," you started filling the empty air with words, as you often did out of anxiety, "I know where you live because I've heard you sing 'fuck everyone in the trailer park, I'll play my music and curse your existance' probably a thousand times, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out where you live."
He let out a chuckle, despite being deep in the throws of processing your earlier statement of feeling cut off. Of course he wanted to see you outside the confines of the musty bar, he just hadn't expected it to be like this, so sudden. "Well that's fair. I’ll give you double points for perception."
"I didn't mean to interrupt your Saturday," you began to reel again, "just wanted to tell you I'd like to hang out with you sometime, preferably not at The Hideout."
"Can sometime be now?" he hopped down from the last step and gave you an inquisitive smile, nose slightly scrunched and giving you butterflies.
"Yeah, sometime can be now. You promise I'm not interrupting anything?" you felt a wave of relief, his energy had fully shifted from confusion to your comfortable flirty banter.
"Just a packed bong and have some laundry I probably wasn't going to do anyways," he suddenly realized he either had to invite you inside, which would be slightly embarrassing given the current state of his trailer, or suggest a secondary location, "you hungry? We can grab lunch or something?"
He offered to drive, and you suggested sandwiches and beer to go for a backseat van picnic. He was relieved that you were down with doing something so casual, no stuffy cafes or overpriced food. If you were more than happy to suggest eating deli counter sandwiches in the back of his clunky van then maybe he had less to worry about than he thought.
The passing moments between you had him realizing he truly didn't know much about you. Your job, how you had no problem snapping back at rude customers, and most recently your favorite drink. He wanted to know more, and quickly did as you had a 'regular' sandwich order and gave him directions to a side street that looked out onto a small lake, explaining that you'd eat lunch out here sometimes when the weather was nice. He parked the van in reverse, letting the back doors swing open, giving you the perfect bench looking out to the scenery to sit back and eat.
"All my years living 'round here, I've never been to this spot," he noted through bites of sandwich wrapped in white paper.
"Yeah, most people know the spot across the lake with the rope swing and all that," you gesture across to where there was a popular jumping rock littered with empty beer cans, "too crowded for me though, it's more peaceful over here."
"Sorry if I was a bit rude earlier," he started, but you quickly cut him off before he could finish his apology.
"No, no," you move your hand over to gently grab his mid gesture, "don't apologize, your reaction was incredibly reasonable."
"I just-' he started but you gave his hand a squeeze, "I really am happy you decided to come by, I didn't want you to think otherwise."
"I'm happy you chose lunch with me over a bong and laundry, that was some tough competition I had," he rolled his eyes at you.
"Don't make fun of me," he nudged your side, "I'm usually pretty wiped from Friday's show and trying to think of clever things to keep up with you, so my Saturday's are usually pretty lazy," your shoulders rubbed against each other, "being a washed up wannabe rockstar and flirting with a girl way out of my league can really do a number on me."
You share a soft giggle but reassure him that playing live music, even if it is only for you and a crowd of five drunks is still pretty cool. "Plus I like that you dress like this all the time, it's not just an act, this is just how you are," you gesture to his ripped jeans and ring clad fingers.
"What did you expect, babe? Surprise me at my trailer to find me in a polo and khakis?" the suggestion alone had the two of you laughing, brainstorming an alternate universe where Eddie was an accountant by day and only let his rocker side loose on Friday nights.
"If you aren't secretly an accountant, what do you do when you're not playing music, if I may ask," you realize this was really one of the first personal questions you'd exchanged, keeping things punchy and surface level until this point.
"Ah, well," he scratches the back of his head, "although I wish the drink tickets we make at The Hideout were enough to cover rent, I work down at the body shop, you know the one down the street from the grocery store? My uncle knew some guys there and hooked me up with a job fixing cars after high school, and it's not too bad, I'm not half bad at it either, so that's where I'm at."
"You just really keep getting better and better, huh?" at first he wonders if your comment is sarcastic, but you continue "So what I'm hearing is you'll look at my rattling engine for free? I know nothing about cars and am always worried the people at the body shop are going to overcharge me."
"I only charge in sandwich dates and drink tickets, so you're in luck," he responds quickly without giving it much of a thought.
You take a second, "What about dinner dates? Maybe movie dates too? Are those acceptable payments for your mechanic expertise?"
"Not usually, but I'll make an exception for you," he responds after a few beats, realizing you wanted to see him again, and not just at the bar.
You both are looking out at the lake, the buzzing energy around you making you nervous to look at each other. So you just tilt your head sideways to rest on his shoulder, "Phew, that's a relief, because I have a lot more of these planned."
"Oh yeah?" he shifts his body towards you, lifting your head from his shoulder and finally meeting his gaze, a stupid grin plastered across his face, he couldn't help it. "Which one of these dates do I finally get to kiss you?" You let out a breathy laugh, half amused by his corny line and half surprised he was being so forward.
"Hmmm, I'm not sure," you pretend to think it over, stringing this out was killing both of you, but you couldn't help but push his buttons a bit more, "I'd say I'm kind of a third date kind of gal."
"Three? As in three from now or three including this one?" He seemed genuinely concerned, causing a genuine laugh to slip through the act you were putting on.
You move your hand to his chest, faces closer than they had ever been. You had always been sucked into his big brown eyes, but now you saw flecks of honey and deep browns that bordered on black in them, faded freckles dotted across his cheeks, a chapped patch on his lower lip that had clearly been the victim of some anxious chewing. "I'll make an exception this time, for you."
He let you make the first move, leaning in and gently pressing your lips to his, soft and slow. You could feel his breath catch in his throat, prompting you to pull back and look at him through fluttered lashes, as your mouth parted slightly to ask him if that was okay, his big ring clad hands cupped the sides of your cheeks and pulled you right back into him, kissing you like he was afraid you'd evaporate if he ever stopped.
The wind was knocked out of you. You couldn't be bothered to breathe when your attention was solely focused on his lips, his tongue, the sharp intake air he sucked in between slotting your top lip down to your swollen bottom one, nipping with teeth and holding your face so close.
After a minute of soft whimpers and exploring the new intimacy you pull back to finally catch your breath, fully ready to ignore the need for oxygen and lean back in when you see his face, rosy and buzzing with excited energy.
"Sorry, if that was kind of a lot," he realized you had given the sweetest peck and he proceeded to practically shove his tongue down your throat.
You however, were already brushing his apology off and leaning in for more, missing the feeling of his big hands cradling your face, sending tingling shockwaves down your body. Before you could lunge back at him and take more of what you wanted, he takes your chin in between his fingers and tilts your head up to his.
"I don't know if you can tell, but I'm sort of crazy about you. And I really don't want to fuck this up, but I've wanted to do that for a really long time.”
He could tell by your pout that you were begging for another kiss, and he couldn't refuse you. You were completely lost in it. Learning that he let out a little gasp when you ran your fingers up into his hair, that he would catch your bottom lip in between his teeth when you started to pull away and he needed more, that you were already completely wrecked for him. You weren't even conscious of the fact that you were now fully seated in his lap, sandwich wrappers and empty cans long pushed aside.
Part of you wanted to wait, to let things build up organically over time and get physically intimate when the moment felt right. But fuck it, the moment felt right now.
Any apprehension or worry of scaring him off dissipated when his thumb ran across your cheekbone, his other strong arm holding you steadily against him, you don't think you could wiggle away if you tried. Swirling in your apprehension you also fought the urge to press your hips down into his and grind against him harder. You wanted to let him take things at his pace and not rush anything, but fuck you could feel his cock getting hard between your legs and it was driving you insane.
He dragged the knuckle of his middle finger up your neck along the curve of your jaw, speaking softly into your kiss, "can I kiss you here?" pressing his touch into the side of your neck.
"You can do anything you want to me," you pant back, slightly embarrassed at how desperately horny that came out.
"Fuck," he groaned out, cock noticeably twitching against his black jeans and into your thigh, "you can't say shit like that to me."
"Sorry, sorry," you try to gain your composure and lift off him slightly, “I-"
He took a hold of your waist and pulled your back down into his lap, diving into the side of your neck and nipping and sucking until he found the spot that made you squeeze your thighs slightly around him. "Anything I want requires a lot more time and space than we have right now, pretty girl." He mumbled into your neck in between kisses, his words making your back arch slightly more into him. "Plus I need to be a gentleman," you rolled your eyes at this.
"Since when have you ever worried about that," you tug his hair back to force him to look at you.
"You really want to know what I want, right now?" he quirked an eyebrow.
"Really, really," you let your weight sink down onto his lap a touch more, feeling the stiff length under his jeans slot between your thighs a bit deeper, making his breath hitch before he could respond.
"I want you to lay back on those blankets up there," he nodded towards the few crumpled up blankets he had shoved behind the driver's seat, "and let me eat your pretty pussy until you're screaming loud enough for the people across the lake to hear."
Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that.
This unexpected burst of sexual confidence threw you for a loop, as you were fully prepared to be the one making all the big moves. Your mouth hung open slightly, struggling to form a response when all that was swarming through your mind was holy fuck, holy fuck, that was so hot, what the fuck do I say.
Rather than respond with words you just roll off his lap and start moving deeper into the back of his van, propping your torso up on bent arms and sending him back a suggestively raised eyebrow. He swung his legs up over the ledge and took one of the doors with him, sliding into the van and quickly shutting the other as well.
It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the previous sunlight coming in from across the lake was cut off, and the light source now was only coming from the front windows, making things darker but not invisible. You quickly had no trouble making out Eddie's slender form shuffling around and getting situated in between your bent knees, urging you to lay back a bit more and relax as much as your body would allow against the lumpy blanket pile.
"This is okay?" he asks while leaning down to pick up where you had left off a moment ago.
"Yes, fuck," you wiggle up into his form, wanting as much contact as he would allow, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into your lips.
It all had moved faster than you were used to but fuck if it didn't feel so right. Why did you feel more comfortable with this person you hardly knew than you had with your past few long term relationships? He just had this way of taking your nerves and throwing them out the nearest window.
After sucking on your lower lip until it was puffy and slick he dips his chin into the crook of your neck, dragging his perfect nose up your jugular and nestling into the junction of your neck and ear, licking a stripe all the way. You wanted to desperately buck your hips up into his, but only allowed yourself half the satisfaction of lifting your thigh slightly to give him more space to sink deeper into your slumped form.
When Eddie’s life flashed before his eyes, on more than one occasion- actually- he wasn’t particularly satisfied with what he saw. In the moments before what he assumed was death, his brain searched for the best moments to accumulate and reminisce on before his body succumbed to the untimely demise he was facing. It wasn’t much.
He wished he had more than smiling moments with his D&D club, a few killer performances at the Hideout, no killer audiences, some nights of revelry with his friends, and a few forgettable hookups in dingy bar bathrooms. That couldn’t be it, right?
In the wake of his life flashing, fading, and flashing again, he made more space for good things. After his shows now he let himself think about you, and how much he liked you, let himself try his hand at flirting. Because if he was going to come anywhere that close to death again, he needed more to show for it than a few trysts with nameless girls and an unnerving amount of scar tissue.
So he wasn’t about to fuck this up. If someone came at him with an axe tomorrow, at least he’d have the memory of you splayed out beneath him in the back of his van, lips shiny and cheeks rosy. If his life were to flash before his eyes again it wouldn’t be as bad.
“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he mumbled into your neck, his denim clad thigh pressing perfectly in between your legs. You could only hum back as if to say, “no, tell me.”
“I think you do know,” his teeth grazed upon your earlobe, sending a jolt through your hips and finding solace in the friction between your thighs with his.
“Yeah, I know,” you breathe out, arching your neck down to nudge the tip of his nose with yours, “do you?”
“I didn’t have a clue,” he mumbled into your lips before slipping his tongue against yours, sickly sweet and laced with all the regret of not asking you out sooner.
You let your ankles hook around one another, locking your hips together and earning a deep rumble of a moan from the man trapped. “I recall you mentioning something about the people across the lake hearing me…” you playfully trail off, equal parts confidently flirty and deeply desperate for him to act on his earlier promise.
He had nudged his way down into the neckline of your shirt, licking and nipping at as much of your breasts as he could find, fingertips grazing the waistline of your pants. Part of you wanted to just lay here and let him have his way with you, but the conscious part of your brain recognized the insecurities he expressed in that conversation you weren't supposed to hear, and signaled you to be as forward with him as you could be.
“Fuck,” you struggled to pry your hands between your pressed bodies to reach your jeans button, “Eddie can I take these off, I want to feel you.”
With your hands moved south, you managed to undo the clasps of your jeans while also running your hands upwards towards his shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath.
It was subtle, but impossible for you to miss, when your fingertips grazed his lower stomach and trailed up his t-shirt his body shifted into a tense state for just a moment. You could have easily missed it. It took all of a millisecond for him to subtly jerk away from you and redirect the attention to your now unbuttoned pants. His hands were dragging the material down your thighs before you had a moment to register the way he averted your touch.
He playfully tossed your bunched up pants over his shoulder, as if they had anywhere else to go other than the three feet of van between him and the doors. After that flashed moment of shyness, you noticed nothing but a playful smirk on his face, smile crinkled at the corners of his cheeks and eyes full of wild mischief.
His hands spread against your thighs, digging his fingertips into as much skin as the width of his palms would allow.
“So fucking perfect,” he drank you in, hardly noticing the moment you pulled your shirt and bra over yourself, but dumbstruck as soon as his eyes caught sight of your reveal.
Knowing he had yet to put his money where his mouth was, he adjusted downwards and let his flushed cheek make contact with your thigh. In that moment he vowed to let the sight of the little damp patch in the center of your cotton panties stay forever in his mind.
He didn’t let a single thought register in his brain before he leaned forward and let his tongue lick a fat strip up the middle of your clothed center, adding dampness to the apparent arousal already there.
“Jesus,” you were slightly taken aback at his action, letting your head fall back, while still lowering your gaze down to where his hooded lids and pink tongue sat in between your thighs.
He reveled in the feeling of being between your thighs, letting his tongue play around the center of your panties for a few strokes before the twitching in your legs signaled that you had had enough of his teasing.
Taking a blissful moment to hook his finger through the crotch piece of your underwear and pull it to the side to reveal your slick center, he simply couldn’t help himself. He pulled back and drank the sight of you in, panties wet with your arousal and his spit pulled to the side and your perfect cunt finally in his sights.
The groan he let out only tripled your level of neediness for him. You let your chest puff up and hips gyrate forward at nothing to signal that you needed him, like, now.
Before you could even think of something snarky to say to get him to get on with it, his entire face was fully buried in you. An involuntary ahhh escaped you as he let his entire tongue press as far into you as space would allow.
“Ohmygod,” all coming out in one breath, “fuckeddie.”
He groaned deeply into you at the feeling of your pussy on his mouth, your taste, how your hips twitched slightly when his nose pressed against your clit. He didn’t even think about all those drunken chats with the boys or stupid cosmo articles he couldn't help but read, eating your pussy didn’t require any thought, he could only feel.
Your sighs were like a song to him, every sharp inhale and subtle whimper, he caught it all and it was the most beautiful music. He let his tongue swirl faster when he heard your breath hitch, gripped your thigh tighter when you let out that beautiful exhale.
“So fucking good for me,” he mumbled into your inner thigh in between licks, fully pussy drunk and ready to stay here forever, “fucking perfect.”
After some selfish exploration, he settled on a steady rhythm against your clit, making your back arch and whines jump an octave.
“Eddie, Eddie,” you groaned, feeling embarrassed how needy your voice already sounded, “can you use your fingers too, please.” Desperate. That’s how you felt, and you couldn't help but be self conscious for any more than a moment, as he immediately headed your request.
Guitar fingers. You fucking knew it. You always found him attractive and charming, but immediately scolded yourself the moment you started speculating about those damn fingers. If he could learn Metallica solos in private, what else could he do?
Curling upwards in that magically delicious motion that had you already seeing stars, he glanced up at you upon entering and was met with the glorious sight of your mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut.
You simply couldn’t be bothered by the rickety van floor beneath you, the sad lumpy pillow propped under your head, or the stagnant, vaguely cigarette scented air around you. Nope. No thoughts other than the tightening knot in your stomach and how those pretty brown eyes peered up through too-perfect lashes at you in between sinful strokes.
“Making me feel so fucking good,” you hardly recognized your voice as your own, “please don’t stop, Eddie, please…”
And there it was, euphoric bliss found in the back of a pot dealing metalhead’s van. Your thighs quivered and your brain lost all capacity for thought. All you could feel was the sudden wash of pleasure, the pulsing between your legs, and the tongue and fingers fucking into you as if it was the last thing he ever did.
Writhing, trying to keep your moans down despite his verbalized promise for them to be heard far and wide, you try to control the jerk of your hips and grip on his hair. You rode out your orgasm, far sooner than you would have liked. You wanted to revel in it.
After months of relentless flirting and suppressing your attraction to him, you wish you could have held your orgasm off a while longer. You simply couldn't allow yourself to bask in the velvet of his tongue or the tickle of his bangs on your thighs. You needed it too badly to hold off.
Coming down from your orgasm, a broken moan cracked from you and let him know to slow his roll. In between catching your breath you catch a view of him sucking your release off of his slick fingers, and almost throw yourself at him, beg him to jump your bones. But all you can do is let out a breathy laugh and find the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.
“You come?” he asks, slight snark to his voice.
You muster up the energy to bop him upside the head and ruffle his hair along the way. “Fuck off,” you respond, still breathless, “you know I did.”
“I know,” he cocks his head, still admiring your form, your flushed face and rise and fall of every breath, “It’s polite to ask, though.”
“Ah yes, Eddie Munson, most polite man I know,” you flop back onto the mismatched pillows.
“Hey!” he pretends to sound offended but only manages to tug at your heartstrings, “I’ll have you know, that I am a delight.”
“Can’t argue with that,” you reach down to feel your dripping folds before hunching forward to search for your underwear, which haven't traveled too far from his knees on the van floor.
You wanted to return the favor, do more than return the favor, but something about his shift in demeanor and the way he angled his body away from yours slightly to adjust his hard cock in his pants and keep up the too-casual post-orgasm conversation had you thinking it was more than him being too polite to accept your advances.
“Shit, what time is it,” he begins to shuffle towards the front of the van to check the time while you awkwardly gathered your clothes and redressed, fully assessing that whatever fooling around in the back of this van you were doing was officially over.
“I, uh, have a few errands to run,” he sounded apologetic, not like he was making some excuse to get you out of his hair, “I can drop you off, or you can come along for the ride…”
There is was, your affirmation that he was just as desperate to hang onto this moment together as you were.
“I actually have a shift starting pretty soon,” you regrettably admit, “and as much as I’d love to ditch it and be your passenger princess, the Saturday tips are usually the bulk of my rent money so…”
He understood, he hated how much he understood.
“What time do you get off?” He didn’t even try to hide how eager he was to see you again, again in ten minutes, again later tonight, again tomorrow, again as many times as you’d let him.
“Get off? Pretty sure I did that like three minutes ago…” you joke and appreciate his huff of a laugh, “Um, I’m closing, so probably not until like two or three. Don’t worry though, I can give you my number and we can do this again when we’re both free.”
“I’m free later… at two,” his expression was dead serious, “or three, or four, or whenever.” He noticed your brows shoot up and words start to form in your mouth, before you could speak he cuts in, “If you won’t be too tired or anything. I can pick you up?”
“It’ll be pretty late Eds,” you were falling into the trap of his puppy dog eyes, “you don’t need to wait up for me like that, I promise we can see each other again, tomorrow even…”
“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy,” he took your hand in his and mindlessly stroked circles into it with his thumb, “but I’m sort of a night owl, not big on the whole sleeping thing anyways, and I’d love to pick you up from work later.”
“Okay,” you agree, the soft earnestness of his voice snared you, and considered the magic he had just worked between your legs, who were you to say no. The glimmer in his eye and quirked smile at your response had you wishing you had said more than ‘okay,’ wondering what kind of look you would have gotten from a ‘yes, please,’ or ‘I’d love that.’
He drove you back to his trailer, not letting go of your hand during the ride, not even to turn up the music at his favorite parts. He offers to follow you back to your place, insisting that waiting for you to shower and change into work clothes and then drop you off at the Hideout was “on the way” to these supposed errands he had to run.
You roll your eyes but start to accept that this is the kind of guy Eddie is, insincerity undetectable when he makes these offers. You invite him in, but he opts to wait outside with a cigarette, pacing a bit and then forcing his legs and mind to still by waiting in the drivers seat.
“Hey hot stuff,” he wolf whistles as you exit your apartment, dressed in your usual black shirt and jeans for work, apron balled up in your bag to put on once you arrive.
He’s sweet, and sincere. As much as you liked the jab banter between the two of you at the bar, you think you might prefer his sarcastic jokes mixed with sweet compliments and longing gazes more. Not that you weren’t getting that from him at the bar before, there were plenty of longing gazes there too, but now the shared glances are heavy with the knowledge of what his tongue feels like on your cunt.
A sloppy, exaggerated kiss on the cheek and a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ sends you off into the bar, where your hands will be pouring cheap liquor for the next several hours but your mind will be solely occupied with what your post-work date with Eddie entails.
The drink special of the night was a mix of anxious anticipation and lustful yearning, shaken too aggressively and served with sunsteady hands. Luckily the Saturday rush kept you mostly focused on vodka sodas and Guinness pours, wiping down sticky surfaces and making change for impatient customers.
You had assistance behind the bar, and that also meant assistance closing up, finally allowing yourself to start peeking through the window to see if Eddie held up on his promise. Of course he had. He’d been waiting in the lot, scoring a few sales from exiting patrons who knew him previous deals, since long before the bar closed.
You wipe your sweaty palms onto your apron and ball it up into your bag before bounding across the parking lot towards Eddie, who always seems to have this effortless charisma buzzing around him, a cigarette dangled from his pretty lower lip and posture just slouched enough to still be sexy. Maybe you were biased at this point.
He pulls you in by your waist, angling his chin up to blow the smoke up into the sky rather in your direction.
“How was work?” Your cheeks were already starting to grow hot at the feeling of his pinky finger landing on the strip of skin between your shirt and jeans, “Miss me?”
“Bartending’s a lot easier when I don’t have your nosy ass pestering me for free drinks,” you cock your head at him, silently asking for a drag of his cigarette, which he immediately understands and complies, “wasn’t too bad though, happy it’s over,” you exhale.
“If you’e hungry there’s some fries and a milkshake by the passenger’s seat,” he let you slip from his grasp to spin around towards the van door.
“For me?” you peek through the window, realizing he didn’t just mean extras from his dinner earlier, he had gone out of his way to pick you up a post-work snack.
“Unless you aren’t hungry,” he moves to hop in the drivers side, “In which case you can practice tossing fries into my open mouth while I drive.”
You let a few fries fly across the car seat in his general direction, feeding him the occasional one directly, but inhaling most of them shortly after you peeled out of the parking lot.
“D’you want me to bring you home, or…” you knew where he was headed with this, a nervous edge to his voice.
“We can hang out back at your trailer if that’s okay,” you say mid-fry, “as long as I can take a quick shower I don’t mind chilling there.”
He grins like a giddy schoolgirl and grips the steering wheel just a touch tighter, and drives just a bit faster back to the trailer park. As anxious as you felt during your shift, you can’t be bothered to overthink with Eddie leaning towards you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, making googly eyes at the shake you were downing as his way of asking you for a sip.
He put the van into park before the wheels had even come to a complete stop, hustling around the front to make sure he was the one to open your door. He had spent some of the time you were away straightening up his trailer for the first time in a good long while. Empty beer cans were cleared and he even changed the bed sheets. It still wasn’t the Ritz or anything, but at least he can say he tried.
He tried to busy himself with locking the door behind you after entering, not wanting to see if your eyes drifted over to the mess of records and smoking pariphenelia that cluttered the coffee table, or the chance that the mixture of heavy metal and nerdy posters strewn about would draw a judgmental reaction.
When he let his gaze drift back to you, you weren’t looking at any of that. You were looking right back at him, already leaning up on your toes and asking, “Can I kiss you again?”
A mumbled “of course” had you wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into his touch, finding his lips already on yours before you could go in for the kill.
The kiss started off French-fry-and-strawberry-shake flavored, smiling into his lips as the anticipation of seeing him again after only a few short hours slips away.
“Thank’s for spending so much time with me today,” you whisper in between sticky sweet kisses, “and for the fries and-“
He took your cheeks in his hands and smushed your lips into his mid-sentence, pulling back to see the puckered fish face he held between his hands.
“You’re welcome,” his big button eyes bore straight through you, as if he saw all of you and more, “but you don’t have to thank me, I like being with you, and I ended up eating most of the fries anyways,” he trails off, cheeks rosy and lips slick from your claim on them.
“You wanted to shower?” He cuts himself off, and feels stupid for it. He knew he could keep kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, and the only thing holding him back was his anxious brain and big mouth.
“Oh, yeah,” you were a little surprised that he remembered, and chose to bring it up now, “if you don’t mind. I always feel a little sticky after work, you know, with the Hideout’s C health rating and all.”
With a smile that nearly knocked the air out of you, he took a deep bow like some silly court jester and motioned down the trailer’s only hallway. You took your lead and followed his outstretched arm, figuring there were only so may doors that could possibly lead to a bathroom.
“Oh, shit, wait,” you hear him scramble behind you, shuffling past into the door you assume to he his bedroom, emerging milliseconds later with a crumpled towel in his balled up hand, “you’re gonna want this.”
“Thank you,” you’re slow with your movements, wondering how he was acting so squirrelly, like a middle school boy around the girl he wanted to take to the dance, even though he had you fully spread out begging for him in the back of his van only hours earlier, “is the shower big enough for two?”
You meant it equally suggestive and genuine, knowing full well that not all showers are built for partner bathing. However, the fear stricken look that washed across his face for a millisecond before scrunching up and setting to neutral had you thinking you had just asked if there was a built in hot tub or something like that. His mouth hung open and for a moment that conversation you weren’t supposed to hear replayed in your mind, maybe you had to take this slower than he was willing to let on.
“Just looking for someone to massage my scalp, that’s all,” you try to jokingly play it off, keeping your invitation open but concealing it with a joke to double back on just in case.
“Yeah, it’s- uhhh,” Eddie, who was always quick with a comeback was suddenly lost for words, “It’s the size of a normal shower, yeah.” It’s not like he could lie, all you had to do was turn around and size it up for yourself.
You take the towel from his white knuckled grip and pivoted towards the door that was close to having burn holes from where his laser focused eyes were shot. You give him a wink over your shoulder, figuring that was enough of an invitation and vague enough of an excuse for him to leave depending on what he wanted. You hated this line you were towing, knowing more than you should- yet still feeling so in the dark.
He was right, it was a normal sized shower. A bathtub with a sliding door and a detachable shower head with only one working setting. There was a rack with three-in-one and a bar of dove soap, which should have annoyed you but made you giggle instead. You let a quarter sized drop of the generic body wash slash shampoo slash conditioner lather into your hands when you heard the bathroom door creek open, purposefully left unlocked.
“Hey, is it okay I’m in here?” He sounded so genuine in his concern, unknowing you were on the verge of begging him to get in the shower with you.
“Yeah,” you borderline shout over the running water, “here to help massage my scalp?” You let your tone stay light and joking despite being deadly serious.
“Wow I didn’t realize your hands were really that delicate and incapable,” he tried to match your energy, but an anxious edge remained present.
“I mean,” you searched for your words, “I’ve seen you play Metallica, I know those fingers could surely get this pine scented crap deep into my roots.” You let the suggestive comment linger, nervous after a beat of silence passed.
“If you really need my help,” you heard him shuffling around , “who am I to turn a damsel in distress away?”
You felt your cheeks get rosy and shoulders wiggle with excitement as you caught the shower door jerk open. Your face was towards the shower head, and you only turned a quarter of the way around before Eddie stepped in behind you and those guitar-string-calloused-hands gripped your shoulders and twisted you back towards your view of the water stream.
“I’m gonna make you a deal,” his voice was coated with as much charisma as he could muster, his worries only poking through enough for you to notice, “I’ll give you the full treatment, but you can’t turn around.”
You were willing to play along with about any game he suggested. If he asked you to bend over backwards you’d extend your spine as far as it could go.
You stood with your front as straight towards the shower head as you could, only feeling his presence behind you and his gentle hands lay on your shoulders to assure you wouldn’t turn around.
“Just let me take care of you,” he edged closer, letting you feel his naked body enter your space, his face craning over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, “Just stay like this and let me feel you.”
It was less of a question and more of a plea, the only thing more pathetic sounding was the whimper that slipped out of you when you felt his body press against your back, warm and hesitant to press all the way into you, but close enough for you to feel his skin.
“Okay,” you let your head lull back onto the space between his collar bone and shoulder, keeping your eyes closed, not that you could see anything from this angle anyways, “I’ll stay just like this, promise.”
“I just-“ you could hear his walls come up, suddenly trying to find the words to explain himself to you, “I’m not-“
“Eddie,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open to glance up at him as much as you could, “it’s okay. I’ll stay just like this, I’m just happy to be here with you.”
You gently found his hands resting at your hips and guided them up to your soapy scalp, “We both know the real reason I called you in here anyways,” you joked, and angled your head straight forward so he could run the pads of his fingers all through your 3-in-1 coated hair.
He let out a light chuckle at your joke, nearly feeling it catch in his throat as all the passed time of insecurity and locking his feelings away welled up and shattered with the intimacy of washing your hair. What did he do to deserve having you like this? For you to understand and want him to stay anyways?
As much as his emotions clouded his vision and stunted his breathing, the rush of blood in between his legs broke his internal monologue. As overwhelmed as his mind was, his body couldn’t be convinced to focus on anything other than the sudsy girl pressed up against him, letting out little noises of satisfaction as he let his fingers absentmindedly massage away.
“This’s nice,” you lean back into him a bit, “it’s like masturbating, you know? Always feels better when someone else does it for you.” You didn’t feel too guilty about the sexually charged comment, considering the fat rod that was pushing into your lower back.
He let out a short chuckle, but his breathing was rapidly turning heavy as the air clouded with steam and your wet body rubbed against him, fully arching into his erection as if you wanted to get a better feel.
“Can I wash the rest of you?” his request is polite, but his voice is lust filled and bordering on begging.
You hum in agreement and lift your arms to let him slip his hands around you, one crossing your chest and the other reaching around to get more gel, “It technically is shampoo and body wash, and I was promised the full treatment here.”
As much as you wanted to keep joking with him, finding silly things to comment on to break the tension, your resolve was quickly going down the drain as his big hands lathered you up.
“You’re so beautiful,” his voice is just audible over the rushing of the shower water, “I’ve always thought so, but now I fucking know it.”
His warm breath against your ear manages to cut through the heat of the steam, making you shiver despite it all. “Eddie,” you whine, his hands running up and down your torso, spending more time on your chest than the rest, but surely showering you in as much attention as his hands could reach.
Knowing that tone from earlier, already committing to knowing your body as intimately as you’ll allow him to, he immediately gives in and touches you exactly where you want him most.
Most of the bubbles had dissipated, and he held you close to him, with one hand splayed across the center of your chest and the other dipping down to run two fingers through your now parting legs.
He could feel the slick of your folds, standing out from the water cascading down your body, so warm and wet in a different way.
“Fucking hell,” he groans out, letting his hips roll forwards slightly to find some friction against your backside, sliding his fingers from your hole up to your clit a few experimental times before letting his middle and ring fingers dip into you.
When he had gone to town on you earlier in his van, which somehow felt like a million light years ago, you had taken a keen interest to the way his metal rings brushed up against your inner thighs and lower lips when he slipped his digits into you. As much as you had reveled in that new sensation, he had taken all his jewelry off along with the rest of his clothes and reservations before joining you in the shower. And now you could grind down onto his hand until he was completely buried to the hilt of his knuckles, no demon heads or upside down crosses in your way.
You wanted to wiggle and writhe around, feeling a bit week in the knees and desperate to buck your hips down against his pumping fingers. He pressed your chest tighter against him, lips pressed up against your ear, “I thought you promised to be good and stay still for me.”
He could feel your pussy clench at that, letting out a satisfied chuckle and plunging his fingers right back into your cunt, letting the meat of his palm massage your clit in perfect time.
“S’ this what you wanted,” his voice had the full bodied confidence of a man who didn’t just ask you to not turnaround to see him without a shirt on, “for me to be all sweet and wash your hair, then make you cum on my fingers like the dirty girl I know you are?”
The smallest fraction of you wanted to be a brat and joke back at his silly use of shower innuendo, but your mind was almost entirely committed to the feeling of his hands on you and his dick rutting Into the meat of your ass.
“Eddie,” you could barely squeak his name out, “Eddie, can I touch you too, please? Please?” While his voice had been pleading before, you were literally begging to get your hands on him.
“Like this,” you manage to open your eyes, head still resting against his shoulder and your hand snaking back to where his cock pressed into you, not fully grabbing it but motioning towards it with your hand.
He snatches your wrist up with the hand not occupied with your tightening pussy, and for a second you fear that you had crossed a boundary.
As much as you were willing to comply with not looking, you were bursting at the seams to touch him, make him feel good, show him how much you wanted to be right here with him and nowhere else.
Before your mind could race any further, come to a screeching halt and apologize, he guides your hand up underneath your chin and demands “Spit.”
Your short circuiting brain dashes from his fingers, remaining crooked inside of you, his request, and the tone of voice he used to ask. You were fucked. Drool leaks from your lips before you even have the chance to process his words other than the immediate feeling of oh fuck yes.
He brings your spit coated hand back to reach around, allowing you to wiggle it in between your wet bodies and find his eager cock already arching into your touch.
He only faltered for a moment, the consistent dizzying pace of his fingers inside you stuttered the moment he felt your slick palm take an experimental stroke. The moan he let out was involuntary, along with a breathy “Oh, shit.”
Obviously you couldn’t size him up visually, but the weight of him in your palm was enough to have your mouth watering and thighs squeezing his wrist a bit tighter. Uncut? Maybe? With a pretty patch of curls to match his mop top?
“Just like that, please,” you whine out into the steamy air, the two of you finding a joint rhythm between your hands and subtly rolling hips.
“Your pussy feels so fucking good, so warm and tight for me,” every other word slurred into the curve of your neck.
“You’re gonna make me cum,” you try and match his increasing speed with your hand, “Eddie, please don’t stop, I’m-“
“Shhhh,” he was getting lost in it too, “I’ve got you.”
Your legs turn to jelly, but he keeps you steadily upright with his support on your chest, focusing entirely on you despite the welling orgasm of his own rapidly approaching.
It’s the crack in your voice that pushes him forward, the high pitched breathy moans crumbling and releasing the noises of pleasure from deep within your chest. His name mixed in with ahhhs and uhhhs as if his name is the only word you know in this moment.
“That’s right,” a sense of confidence welled in him as your limp body twitched against his and your cunt squeezed his relentless fingers, “cum all over my hand, doing so good for me.”
Despite your orgasm wracking your brain and body succumbing completely to whatever Eddie was willing to give you, the thought of collapsing into the shower floor never crossed your mind. He held you so close and steady against his chest, it crosses your mind that you may not be putting any weight onto your feet at all by this point.
Rather than catch your breath as you come down from your quaking orgasm, you slip deeper into the throws of pleasure, biting your lip and craning your neck backwards so he can see the fucked out expression on your face. A few more steady, enthusiastic pumps mixed with a desperate kiss, wet and at an awkward angle, breathless and needy, perfect and dizzying, sends Eddie over the edge with you.
The deep rumble of his chest against your back as he groans into your open mouth, encourages you to keep your pace as he gently fucks himself into your hand. He’s spilling into your hand and halting his wiggling fingers buried inside you, letting the momentum that the two of you had built up come to a pulsing end.
The two of you stay tangled in each other for a moment, hands sticky and brows dewy with sweat despite the running water, which had long lost its heat and now settled at a less than comfortable lukewarm. Neither one of you wanted to move. Eddie would have stayed there until his legs cramped and the shower turned ice cold.
His eyes were screwed shut, head tilted back, still holding you close until you wiggled from his iron grip to bring your cum covered fingers up to your lips to suck two of them clean.
“Jesus Christ,” he was thankful that he had opened eyes in enough time to witness that, “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, you know that?”
You let out a mischievous giggle with his cum coated fingers still in your mouth, glancing over your shoulder to catch the look on his face. Equal parts hungry to pick you up and fuck you against the shower wall right now, and melting down to nothing and slipping away down the drain, unable to even start comprehending what had just transpired between you two.
You let your fingers go with a pop and turn back around, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to do the same,” you let the chilling water hit your face, focusing on anything other than turning around and lunging at him, wrapping your body around his and letting your skin melt into his.
He gives into temptation and lets his pruny fingers meet his tongue. He knew what you tasted like from your escapade in his van eaierler, but he’d seize any change he got to take in as much of you as he could.
“That was,” he started, unsure how to sum how he felt, good, great, perfect, none of those words felt correct, “fuck, yeah- that,”
“Me too,” you press your back into his again, “Thank you Eddie.”
Before he can stumble over his words any more, you ask if he’s okay for you to shut the water off, and you ask if he’d be willing to spare some sleep clothes for you to borrow. You curiously stay in the shower while he takes your excuse for him to leave unseen.
After toweling off and slipping into the old t-shirt and boxers he left folded up on the counter for you, you found him already dressed and in bed, set criss cross and packing a bong.
“Post-shower-orgasm smoke, cuddle, then sleep?”
“I’d love nothing more,” you get cozy among the pillows and let the swirling smoke and easy conversation lull you into a comforting half sleep.
An easy energy settled between the two of you, a silent understanding that you weren’t going to ask him questions, and a building comfort that made him almost ready to show you.
You slept tucked into his side, and didn’t even mind his snoring or tossing in the night. Every time he rolled over, your sleeping form just found a new way to mold into him. It was the best he had slept in months.
A steady stream of sunlight blazing directly through the blinds and into your eyes pulled you from your slumber, gorging your groggy eyes to open and crunched up limbs to search for room to stretch. The involuntary fluttering of your eyes and long extension of your libs was far beyond your control.
“Oh!” You whisper out to yourself once your brain manages to catch up with your waking body, realizing the somewhat compromising position the night had thrown you into, your leg hiked up and clinging to Eddie’s waist, with both your arms scrunching up his t-shirt and leaving a strip of stomach exposed.
A negligible, unnoticeable few inches between where his sweatpants hung low on his hips and where your gripping arms had balled up his hole-ridden t-shirt stood before your gaze.
You didn’t mean to stare, and the moment you caught yourself doing so, you quickly and quietly removed your tangled limbs from his and repositioned yourself so that he was half spooning you, eyes facing far away from his unintentionally exposed scar tissue.
You knew it was probably going to be worse than you were expecting. You hadn’t dedicated much thought to what it could be, or what maybe had happened. You just knew it made him feel like he wasn’t worth your time, and you needed to make him feel seen and safe enough to know that that couldn’t be true.
Everyone has insecurities, sure. There are surely parts of yourself you weren’t eager to share with the world, let alone someone you’re romantically interested in. You had moved past being astonished that someone who wore gaudy costume jewelry and sang boisterous music for a bar of twelve patrons with the energy of someone who had sold out Madison Square Garden would ever shrink into their shell the way you had seen Eddie. Now, laying in his bed and knowing that whatever it was, the scars were more than what was on his skin.
“Mfffmmm,” he groans and shifts behind you, wiggling beneath the sheets and snaking his arms to wrap around your waist and pull you close into him, “This is nice.”
His morning voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper.
“I think you just like that my butt is all pressed up on you,” you joke, dodging admiring that you’d rather be here than anywhere in the world in this moment.
“Yeah, I’m not complaining,” he digs his nose into the side of your neck, “But you smell nice too, ’s nice to wake up to.”
“That 3-in-1’s really doing it for ya?”
“No, you do smell like that a little, but more just like yourself. Girl smell.”
“I’ll get started on that perfume line right away. Girl Smell. Might be a million dollar business venture.”
“I just woke up,” the sleep in his voice melted away and his hands running up and down your sides were more deliberate, “Don’t make fun of me. Plus I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed making me all nervous.”
“Anyone with magic fingers like you has nothing to be worried about,” you keep the conversation playful but allow the unspoken truth, that he truly has nothing to worry about with you, be spoken.
“You just like ‘em cuz I washed your hair so well,” he plays with a strand, letting his finger pads dig into your scalp and scratch away, massaging a bit harder after you let out a satisfied groan.
“You must have lots of practice,” you reach an arm back blindly and half smack the side of his shoulder before finding his messy bedhead, staying resolutely facing the poster-covered wall.
“You’ve got really pretty hair for a boy,” you let your finger wrap around a curl.
“For a boy?! Excuse me, I have pretty hair period.”
“Yeah, suppose that’s true” you giggle at his joking defensiveness, “It’s incredible that it’s this nice considering you use the same thing to condition your hair as you do to wash your balls.”
“If you show me what kind of shower products you like I’ll replace the three in one,” he nuzzles his face into the hand playing with your hair, “but maybe the three in one is what’s keeping it so luscious.”
“I wanna wash your hair next time,” you say absentmindedly, meaning it wholeheartedly, with little anxiety after that you had implied a next time.
“Yeah maybe next time,” his voice trailed off, still soft and flirty but edging on a tone that let you know this conversation was just about over.
“Eddie,” it came out as hardly more than a whisper. You wait for him to respond but the gravity of the silence between you quickly became unbearable and you needed to break whatever tension this was.
“I meant it yesterday when I said I wanted to go on more dates with you. You know that right?”
“Mhmm” he mumbles into your shoulder, still holding you against him.
“We have a lot of fun at the bar and stuff,” you search to find your words, “But I want you to know that I don’t just like you cuz you make me laugh and have magic guitar fingers. I like pretty much everything about you so far, and I want to know you more if you’ll let me.”
Your voice wavers, and your message is perhaps more vague than you would have liked, but the deep exhale he lets out conveys that he hears you loud and clear.
“I know I’ve been…” he starts, “It’s just that I…”
“It’s okay Eddie,” you flip around, rolling so that your chests are pressed together and noses are almost touching, “I don’t want to push it. You can tell me when you’re ready, I just want you to know that I like you a whole lot and I don’t think there’s much that could change that right now.”
His eyelashes flutter shut, forehead touching yours, “Thank you.”
“Unless you have a huge chest tattoo of something wildly offensive, or like a tramp stamp that says ‘I heart Ronald Regan.” He appreciates your natural ability to make him laugh even in situations like this.
“Nah,” he pulls back and gives you a serious look, “Fuck Ronald Regan.”
The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, rolling deeper into the sheets and settling into a comfortable cuddle again, with your head on his chest, face angled up to his and legs all tangled up.
Coming down from the beginnings of the conversation that had been lingering above both of your heads, you place a few reassuring kisses up his jaw and find your way up to his parted lips.
“Mmmm,” he hums into the deepening kiss to signal you to stop, “I probably have mega morning breath,” he huffs into a cupped hand which makes you laugh and flop your head back into his chest.
“It’s okay, if you do then I do too and didn’t notice,” you peek back up at him, “But if you want to brush teeth and get your day started I won’t stop you.”
“No, no,” he grabs your cheeks and pulls you back up for a smushed kiss, “I wanna stay here all day with you, if you’ll let me. Our second date, we can order a pizza and watch movies here, won’t even have to put pants on.”
“That sounds really nice, I don’t have work today so I’m all yours.”
“All mine,” his grin reaches the apples of his cheeks, “I will go brush my teeth though, cuz I think this second date involves a lot of kissing.”
“Got a spare I could use?” you shuffle out of bed before situating yourself on the edge of the bed, “Or do you brush with three in one too?”
“Oh my god,” he chuckles, “you with the three in one. After today I promise there will be three separate shower products stocked and ready for your use.”
He manages to find a spare toothbrush in the closet and keeps you wrapped in his arms while both of you take turns spitting into the sink. Looking at the two of you, eyes still crusty from sleep, in the scratched up bathroom mirror, a weird sense of domesticity washes over the two of you.
Eddie realizes that less than 48 hours ago he was too nervous to make a move to kiss you, and now he was already thinking about making room for your toiletries in his bathroom.
As comforting and easy it was to do normal everyday things with you at his side, he couldn’t help but notice your nipples poking through his oversized t-shirt you slept in and the way your toothpaste full mouth was framed by your perfect, spit slicked lips.
“You got a spit kink or something?” You half joke, pressing your ass into the growing rod you could feel nudging against your side.
“Sue me,” he spits and wipes the corners of his mouth, pulling you by the waist into a minty kiss. “Bed? All day?”
“Mhmm,” you agree and lean in to kiss him again, standing on your toes and letting out a shriek of surprise when he scoops you up bridal style and travels the short distance to his bedroom.
“Eddie!” You yelp out as he gently tosses you back into the pile of sheets.
“I know I’m no Hulk Hogan, but moving guitar amps is pretty good strength and conditioning.”
“Shut up, you never help your friends carry the equipment.” You think of all the times you watched his poor bandmates lug their equipment after a show while he seamlessly flirted with you.
“Not when you’re around, you’ve got me there.”
As promised the two of you laze around all morning, bowls of cereal in bed and a bowl of weed to accompany it, switching between fits of giggles and tangled in the sheets while a B horror movie plays on the little TV set propped up near the end of Eddie’s bed.
He tells you about how he used to live with his Uncle in a trailer down the street until he saved up enough to start renting his own, the three attempts to finish high school and the relief when the local mechanic shop hired him despite his reputation around town as a satan worshiper. He talks a bit about his friends, some who’ve stayed in town and others who’ve long moved away.
You listen attently, taking in every spared detail. In return he asks you about where you’re from, why the hell you had moved to a bumfuck town in Indiana to be a bartender. He assures you that you wouldn’t have liked him if you had known each other in high school and you laugh and tell him you were far from popular yourself.
After inhaling a large pizza and running out of VHS tapes you demand a “post pizza bloated cuddle” to which he happily obliges.
“Wish we could do this every day,” he pulls you into him.
“Then we’d need a much bigger movie selection, and maybe body doubles to go do our jobs,” you don’t disagree, although lazy and uneventful the day felt perfect.
“Don’t wanna go to work tomorrow,” he whines, holding you a little tighter.
“Me either, but we can’t be in this lazy cuddle bubble forever,” his hands came up to massage and scratch your scalp, which he now knew you loved, “but next time we’re both free maybe we can have that third date.”
“If I remember correctly, date three is when I finally get to kiss you,” he jokingly smooches behind your ear and down your neck.
“Only if you behave,” you reply sarcastically, “you’ve been such a gentleman lately, but you’ve been pushing it mister.”
“I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman before,” his voice trails off as he buries his nose into your neck, “Will you let me be a gentleman now, make you feel good?” His tone was suddenly dripping with lust, sending a rush of arousal through your already so-relaxed body.
“Mhmm,” you agree and let your body mold back into his a bit more, pressing yourself against him and letting his hands start to wander.
You arch your neck around from your spooning position and search for his lips, your kiss starting out gentle but not staying that way for very long.
“You’re just somethin’ else,” he breathes out in between heated kisses, his eyes big and round, earnest, making your heart swell.
“Can I make you feel good too?” you roll your hips into his erection, your breath catching in your throat when you feel it pulsing under his boxers and pressing into the space between your legs.
You flip around to straddle him, not hiding your intention to grind yourself down onto his covered cock, moans from both of you interrupting the hungry exchange of tongues and lips.
A shaky breath grabs your attention and he finds the air to exhale out, “Can I fuck you?”
You bring your hands to his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss, continuing to rock your hips against him, giving him words as well you mumble a “Fuck yes, please, please Eddie.”
He finds the hem of your shirt and slips it over your shoulders, the momentary break in kissing makes you whine. He immediately makes it up to you by paying delightful attention to your exposed chest, leaving sloppy wet kisses on every inch of skin he had access to, “fuck”s and “so perfect” breaking them up.
You instinctively reach down in between the two of you to take his hard cock into your hand, still pressing your core against it, but taking the rest into your hand to stroke him over his boxers, the choked out moan that escapes him is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.
You’re losing yourself in the feeling of his weight in your palm, sitting up to see his gorgeous fucked out expression, pinched eyebrows and flushed cheeks.
He swore he’d died and gone to heaven, despite all his sins, with you above him, lip tucked in between your grinning teeth as you rubbed up on him. Fuck, there was no going back after this.
You lean down to resume making out for a moment, missing the feeling of his nose pressed into the side of yours and his too-perfect eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks.
“We can, um-“ you catch your breath, hips stuttering as you find your words, “I can turn around. Or we can make a blindfold or something.”
His heart swelled at the thought that amidst fucking yourself against his lap you still had the courtesy to think of his comfort, his obvious insecurity, the elephant in the room that he was so desperately trying to shoo away.
“I want you,” his voice strangely steady, “and I’ll let you have me, no stipulations.”
You nod with a “Please.”
“Only because, I plan on fucking you every chance I get,” his tone makes you clench your thighs, “So we might as well rip this bandaid off now, because if you’re going to be my girlfriend I don’t want you worrying that I’m hiding something from you.”
He flips you over so you’re now laying beneath him, eyes still glassy with lust and mind swirling with the words he’s just let out.
“I’m gonna take off my shirt now, and I don’t want you to pretend like everything is fine, or that you don’t notice anything, because that’ll be a thousand times worse, okay? I know it’s bad. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I know it’s not easy to look at.”
With that he pull this black t-shirt off by the back neck collar, and bares his soul to you. You can tell he’s examining your face for a reaction, very carefully managing your facial expressions for his benefit.
He was right, it wasn’t easy to look at. Only because it made you wonder what horrible thing had happened to leave half of his torso, hip, thigh, and what you could only assume traveled onto his back as well, left entirely torn away and scarred.
“And-“ he cut off your wandering eyes with his words, “Don’t ask what happened. I’ll tell you eventually I just- We can’t have that discussion if we’re about to have sex.”
You nodded with understanding, you knew better than to ask.
You think that your snooping and seed of knowledge helped hide some of your shock, his comment about missing a nipple dampening your realization that he was telling the truth, the scar tissue running so deep that his entire pec was covered in a jagged pink , slightly mishapen scar tissue, and leaving his opposite nipple to stand alone on his chest.
The one thing that did leave you in a bit of shock was half of a tattoo on his hip that abruptly ended where the scar tissue started. Some sort of zombie head, the black ink lines all coming to a halt when’re his skin had been injured.
You let a tentative hand come up, fearing he’ll flinch away, but he doesn’t. You touch his chest, feeling the textural difference as you let your palm run across his chest and down to his hip.
“You know, I still think you’re super hot, right?” You try to assure him, but he only lets out a dry chuckle.
“I mean it,” you sit up a bit, pulling your hand from its exploration of his skin and bringing it to your own chest, using three fingers to cover your left nipple, “you’d still like me, right?”
The softness in his face almost made you jump up to wrap him into a hug, you wanted him to know that everything was okay and he was safe with you, whatever happened was in the past and he didn’t have to worry. Although the moment was emotionally charged, neither of you could ignore the fact that you were both ravenously horny for each other.
“I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide this from me,” you pull his face down to yours, “but I’m glad you showed me, because I’m so fucking ready for you to ruin me.”
He lurches forward and lets his body weight collapse down onto you, your legs widening to wrap around his hips, arm and legs locking him against you.
Feeling his bare chest pressed against yours, lips on your neck and hips rutting into your spread legs, has your head spinning.
“Please Eddie,” you whine, “let me feel you.”
Without missing a beat he shoves the waistband of his boxers down just enough to reach his thighs, hard dick springing free in the little space in between you, and he snatches your wrist and shoves it in between your bodies without unlatching his lips from your collar bone.
“Oh fuck,” you couldn’t see what you were grasping, just like in the shower, but you didn’t dare push him off of you to catch a glimpse. He was all over you, hands tangled in your hair, groans and whimpers hardly making their way out in between the wet sloppy kisses he spread across your neck and chest.
He slips a hand down your body, gracing your ribcage with his fingertips, a stark contrast to how they suddenly part your lips and rub the pool of slick from your hole up to your clit.
“So wet, this for me?” He quirks and eyebrow and sinks a digit into you, causing your mouth to open and hips to wiggle up to ask for more.
“Yes ’s for you,” you breathe out, wanting to give him some pushback, wipe the smug look off his face, but not finding an ounce of courage to do so. You just let your head lull back and eyelids flutter shut as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. “All for you.”
You use your free hand to push your underwear as far down your hips as this position will allow, not wanting to shift your focus from the feeling of him on your lips, his pulsing cock in your hand.
“Need you,” you gasp out, partially at the feeling of his knuckle deep fingers buried inside of you, and equally the fucked out look on his face looming over yours, eyes blown wide and mouth parted on the verge of begging for more, “Eddie, need you to fuck me, please.”
He sits up and removes his fingers from you, earning a wince and a whine. He helps crunch your legs up to remove your panties, leaving your legs raised and crossed over one of his shoulders. He takes a moment to kiss your ankle and tenderly run his hands down the length of your leg. He took the moment to take off his own boxers, leaving you both bare in front of each other for the first time.
“You’ve got a pretty cock,” you complement him earnestly, it was pretty. He gave you a halfhearted scoff and an eyeball in return. “No Eds, I mean it. It’s big too, good thing you got me ready with your fingers. That and I’ve been soaking wet for you for like 48 hours now, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” you giggle. His shy smile tells you he’s willing to take the compliment.
You let your legs fall from their perch on his shoulder and fall to either side of his hips, opening yourself up to him. He’s staring, mouth half agape. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but to have you laid out like this before him, fully ready to give yourself over to him and wanting him wholly in return, how couldn’t he stare.
You let your hand stroke up his cock, bringing his attention back to where the two of you nearly met. You angle him closer to you, you’re slowly pumping fist brushing against your own center. He snaps out of his trance and nudges your hand away, using his own grip to tap his thick cock against your opening.
Tap, tap tap. His head meets your slick folds, hips jerking slightly with every tap.
“Don’t tease me Eds,” you push your hips forward and are only met with him rubbing his dick into the outside of your pussy, “want you inside, need it so bad.”
He want’s to be a bother and continue his teasing, watching your writhe and squirm, but he can’t find it in him to deny you, so he presses the tip in and gauges your face for a reaction, only finding babbling bliss and pleas for more.
He’s sinking into you at an agonizing pace, craning down from his kneeling position above you to frame your head with bent arms and his lips on yours as you moan into each other’s mouths, him filling you more and more.
Your hands are in his hair, keeping your foreheads anchored together, breathing in tandem. He finally sinks all the way down and you can feel it in your lungs. You wrap your ankles around his back and squeeze him into you tighter, not wanting him to move just yet, wanting to just feel how deep he filled you up for the first time.
He lets out a shaky exhale and squeezes his eyes shut, “You were fuckin’ made for me,” he punctuates this with a subtle roll forward of his hips, lips falling into yours as if they had nowhere else to go.
You let your legs fall back, unclasping his hips, and move your hands from his wild hair down to his thighs, pushing him to start fucking you.
“Feel’s so fucking good,” you whisper into his mouth, your hands hardly assisting him anymore as he pumps in and out of your slick cunt, almost knocking the air out of you each time.
He grabs your chin with the hand that’s not propping himself up, “look at me,” his pace doesn’t falter and your mind nearly turns to mush, “you’re mine now, yeah?”
“Yes Eddie,” it comes out as a broken sob, your eyes barely able to focus on him with how close he was, “all yours, only yours.” Your mind had barely made the decision to say the words before they had escaped your lips, a dumbfounded truth serum setting over you in your cock drunk state.
You knew it to be true though, there was no going back after this, and you were willing to give yourself over fully, and accept anything he would give you.
“Ahh, fuck” you let out after a particularly harsh thrust, fists now dripping the sheets beneath you.
“So fucking good for me,” his hands now found purchase on your hips, setting a rhythm between you that only a musician could.
Through glassy eyes you admire him. Curly bangs stuck to his forehead, frantically thrusting torso making his tattoos look like stop motion cartoons, and through it all the scars are hardly noticeable. If anything, they’re just another part of him, the person between your legs that you found incredibly sexy, insecurities and all.
His perfect hands slid from your hips to your shoulders, now using the weight of your torso as leverage to fuck into you harder. His eyes bore into yours, searching for eye contact and finding your reassuring gaze that told him this was everything you wanted and more.
“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you babble out. His little grunts and whimpers send volts of electricity to your core and fog your mind with lust and desire.
He moves a hand down to meet your center, palm splaying across your abdomen and keeping you pinned to the bed, thumb methodically catching your clit with each thrust. He didn’t have to ask if it felt good, the rolling back of your eyes and mouth so wide he could see your molars were enough of an indication that he was headed in the right direction.
“Mhmmmm,” you could hardly form words, but smiled up through your fucked out gaze at him, wide beam and lust fulled eyes telling him that he couldn’t possibly be making you feel any better than you do right now.
He leans back a bit, balancing himself on his thighs keeping his pace, thumb on your clit and eyes locked into yours. Through a groan he brings his unoccupied hand up to his face, biting down on the knuckle of his pointer finger, trying not to blow his load at the feeling of you squeezing around him.
Of course, this only made him look hotter to you, and thus you flexed around his cock even tighter.
Unexpectedly, he pulls out of you completely and before you can muster up the breath to complain, he’s dipped his lapping tongue against you. He fully buries himself into your cunt, cutting off the rhythm, of his cock with the somehow perfectly timed pulsing of his hungry tongue.
You can’t help but cry out, arch your hips, and send a hand flying to his hair to ground yourself. Through frantic panting and wet slurping sounds you think you can make out a “just had to taste you.”
Completely breathless, you can hardly conjure a response before he’s plunging into you again, fucking into you deeply and capturing your parted lips into a passionate kiss.
Something takes over you, and you’re suddenly wrapping your legs around his hips and using some found momentum to flip the two of your over. Suddenly, you’re on top of him, his curls splayed around his pretty face and body laid flat beneath you.
Before you had a moment to question yourself, you anchor your hands onto his shoulders and try your best to pick up the pace he had set earlier. Hips rolling and wet slapping sounds coming from between you.
“Jesus- fuck,” he stuttered in his movements, unsure if he wanted his hands on your face or your tits or your hips or… they landed on your ass and he wouldn’t argue with his first instincts.
“Eddie, I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” your words were breathy and mixed with lustful gasps, “always wanted to have you like this.”
“We could have done this a long time ago, huh?” He tries not to think about all the time wasted, and instead fantasies about all the making up for lost time you’ll do in the near future.
“You were always giving me those eyes while you played with your band,” you looked angelic to him, face hovering above him, framed only be the poor overhead lighting and flickering VHS menu of the last film you’d finished, “I always wanted you, just wasn’t sure you wanted me like this too.”
Your statement was simple enough, but he knew what you meant. You wanted him more than a fuck, and that’s what he had been worried about all along. Now, to have you sunk down on his cock like this, telling him that you had been scared in the same way as he had, only made him roll his hops up into you and pull your cheeks down for a sloppy kiss to seal the deal. You were finally on the same page.
Switching from a bounce of your hips, you lean back slowly and shift to more of a roll, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you while you gyrate your hips. Your arm extends back in between his spread legs to keep you stable, your torso finding its own rhythm in the midst of pleasure and fucking yourself onto his cock.
“So fucking perfect,” he gasps out, hardly able to take in the sight of your body writhing and rolling above him. He manages to find bait of sense in his brain and brings his hand back to your lower stomach, thumb flicking over your clit with every thrust of your hips.
“Oh,eddieohmygosh,” it came out as one breathy syllable, “pleasedon’tstopthat.”
He gently fucks himself up into you, matching your movements and not throwing you off of the sinful rhythm you’ve set, just managing too punctuate each bounce with the raise of his hips into yours and the increased pressure of his thumb on your clit.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he loves the way each breathy word out of your lips is matched with the beautiful bounce of your tits, “Eddie, you’re gonna-“
He doesn’t change a thing, the pressure on your clit, the arch of his hips, he would sooner die than rob you of pleasure or ruin this moment. Every moment he get’s to look at you, he thinks it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, but he knows for sure that this one takes the cake.
“Ahhh, I’m-“ you don’t have to finish your statement for him to know you’re cumming on his cock, the pulsing squeeze of your walls and intense concentration from him not to bust on the spot, and rather to focus on the parting of your lips and the twitching of your hips on his.
“That’s it,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, but lets up on the pressure as soon as he feels you jerk against him, “that’s my girl.”
You lurch down and wrangle him into a kiss, only wanting to feel his lips on yours as you come down from your orgasm. You’re still slowly rolling your hips against his, but focused more on the feeling of his cheeks under your palms and his lips on yours.
“You okay?” He asks in between tongue tied kisses.
“Yes, perfect, thank you,” you arch your back into him a bit, “ready for more.”
Although you were fully prepared to bounce on his cock until he came, you were pleasantly surprised when his large hands surrounded your waist and hoisted you up off the bed. He wanted to try and keep his cock inside you, but accepted defeat as he managed to situate on the edge of the bed.
He shifted around you and situated himself in between your legs. You laid out, everything below the knees hanging off the edge of his hand-me-down mattress. He stood above you and lowered himself to land a few wet kisses on your breasts, his hard cock pressing into your needy center.
He jerked you up by the underside of your knees, pressing your thighs into your chest and sinking down into your open pussy, causing a deep groan to emit from both of you.
Here he was, scars and all, standing above you and thrusting into you as if it was the last thing he would ever do, and he looked like an angel to you.
More thoughtful than you may have initially given him credit for, his thumb finds your clit again and he politely, yet breathlessly asks, “Can you come again for me, pretty girl?”
How could you say no to that. You dumbly nod and throw your head back against the sheets, your hands balled up at your sides as he thrusted into you, grunting and moaning your name.
“So fucking good Eddie,” you manage to squeak out, “You make me feel so fucking good.”
“Ah fuck, yeah, yes,” his voice nearly jumped an octive, signaling his release. “Where should I-“ he began to ask.
“Inside,” it came out as two syllables in-between breaths, “It’s okay you can come-“
“Fuuuuuck,” a strangled moan and a collapse of his arms, along with the delicious pulse of his cock inside you signaled his release.
Before you could eve catch your breath, regain consciousness of the situation, he was reeling back and replacing his softening cock with two fingers. He latched his lips to your clit and began to suck in time with his finger’s replication of his cock’s earlier movements.
“Oh my god,” you were truly taken aback, his face buried in your cunt and setting you back on track to your building orgasm.
It didn’t take more than a minute and a half of him slurping your mixed releases from your cunt and bullying your g-spot with those damn magic fingers to send you hurdling towards orgasm number two, shaking and crying out his name.
It wasn’t until your legs were truly shaking and your hand was searching for his forehead to push him away from overstimulation that he finally let up and let up of your pussy with a wet pop and a smug look.
“You come?” He asks again, just as he had in the back of his van.
You don’t have the energy to respond, only roll your eyes and flip him the bird as you flop back down onto his bedsheets.
He managed to get you a warm rag and a cold glass of water, stroking your har and asking if you felt alright.
“Feel perfect Eddie,” you say after a long gulp, “you took such good care of me, you always do.”
He stroked your hair and positioned the two of you back comfortably beneath his sheets. “Thank you,” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss.
“No, thank you,” you kiss him again, “for trusting me.” The look in your eyes could nearly make him melt. “You’re really something special Eddie, I mean it.”
“Special enough for a fourth date?”
You smack his chest and bury your head into his neck. “I don’t think we have to count dates if I’m your girlfriend now…”
Those dimples you adore perk up on his cheeks, and he bear hugs you, scarred chest and all.
“What time should I set the alarm for tomorrow?” He asks with a sorrow in his voice.
“How about never,” you roll over to trample him with another kiss, smothering his body in yours, knowing you’d be luck enough to have many moments like this soon to come.
A/N: I'm sorry I have long lost the tracking of a taglist (crying emoji) don't want to bother anyone who asked to be added the last time I wrote a pic ten thousand years ago, so I hope this reaches everyone it needs to <3
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fic#smut#Eddie munson imagine#Eddie munson#stranger things smut#Eddie munson fanfiction
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okay but puppy!eddie AND puppy!steve both licking you out 🥴 making my brain so brrrrr 😵💫
This post is 18+, minors dni / hybrid au faq
😵💫 ugh they’re so desperate and pussydrunk!!! They’re rolling around and wrestling on the bed and smothering you and Steve’s face gets mashed into your lap - instantly he smells you and gets sidetracked. Eddie’s still gnawing at his ear but as soon as he realizes Steve’s burrowing his face between your legs and groaning at the scent of your cunt through your pajama pants, he readjusts himself so that he can nose at you too. There’s not much room down there but they spread your thighs as far apart as they can go, insisting on licking and lapping at the dampening fabric of your underwear. Once they’ve got it soaked through they can really smell you, and Steve yanks your panties to the side so he can nose his way into the real thing. The second his tongue touches your slick, throbbing cunt he’s a madman, and Eddie can smell you just as strong as Steve licks at you. He dives in just as eagerly, tongue lapping up the mixture of your slick and Steve’s drool that seeps down your ass. Eventually they get into a rhythm, steve stretched out over your belly and making out with your cunt from above, while Eddie sucks you dry from the bottom. Steve pays special attention to your puffy clit and Eddie’s tongue works through your folds with the sloppy,messy urges of his pussydrunk brain. They don’t care how many times you cum, if they’re still going it’ll happen again. You end up squirting on Eddie’s face and Steve licks him clean as best he can while Eddie’s still tonguing your cunt
#let’s talk about puppy!eddie !!#let’s talk about puppy!steve !!#dog hybrid!eddie#dog hybrid!steve#puppy!eddie#puppy!steve#Eddie munson x reader#steve harrington x reader#Eddie munson smut#steve Harrington smut
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Steve Harrington sucks at kissing.
It’s something everyone in school knows. The King can’t kiss to save his life. He’s motionless, emotionless. It’s like kissing a brick wall.
And yes, he makes up for it in other ways, ways that let all the girls he’s with get past the weird kissing thing. Nancy’s not big on PDA anyway, so minimum kissing is fine with her.
The rumors spread, though. Girls talk to their friends about how they try to “teach” him to kiss, giving him gentle instructions murmured against his lips, to no avail. The movements are flat, jerky, like he’s being puppeted around on marionette strings.
He just can’t do it.
Robin teases him about it exactly once, early on in their Scoops Ahoy careers. But she sees how sad it makes him, sees how he twists the strand of hair by his ear around and around his finger (a nervous habit of his that she learns about much later), and resolves to never talk about it again. If only to get him to stop looking like she dropkicked his puppy into an active volcano.
When Steve starts dating Eddie, they don’t kiss much. Eddie’s not experienced, and he’s also not stupid. He heard the rumors in high school. The last thing he wants is for Steve to be forced into doing something he doesn’t want to do. And it’s really okay. Steve’s good with his hands (like, obscenely good), and he treats Eddie like a person, not a prize or a target. Bar’s low, but Steve’s still hurtling over it.
So it’s about half a month into their relationship when they kiss for the first time.
Eddie graduates, and Steve just gets so excited he yanks Eddie down an empty corridor in the school, picks him up by the waist and spins him around like a Disney princess.
And then he kisses him.
Eddie’s long hair is falling like a curtain around their faces, blocking out the whole world until it’s just them. Steve’s lips are warm, slotted perfectly against Eddie’s own, and his hands are braced around Eddie’s waist. Eddie feels his diploma fall from his hands, and he weaves his hand into Steve’s hair and tilts his head up, kissing him deeper.
Steve breaks away just then. Eddie chases Steve’s mouth with his own on instinct.
“Sorry,” Steve says breathlessly.
“What the hell are you sorry for?” Eddie demands in a harsh whisper. “I thought you were bad at kissing!”
“I am!” Steve says. “I got excited, sorry. I won’t do it again.”
“Why not?” Eddie says indignantly. “That was by far the best kiss I have ever had. Did you not like it?”
Steve looks like he’s running on autopilot. “No, it was amazing, I just… everyone says I’m bad at kissing. I didn’t want to make you kiss me.”
Eddie drags him close, slams him against the wall like he did in the boathouse, except this time with significantly more horny undertones. “You should keep that reputation.” Eddie says in a low tone. “I think no one else, but me, gets to know how good of a kisser you are.”
“Works for me,” Steve says, breath ghosting over Eddie’s lips, and that’s all the invitation Eddie needs to dive back in.
They end up scarring Robin when she comes looking for them, but that’s alright.
#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#sorry i was writing the#living hawkins au#and immediately had a thought#that i had to write before it left#if this is cringe i’m sorry i’m running on 4 hours on sleep out of the last 48#actually it’s definitely cringe. but i am free#TO CLARIFY: they are not fucking at the end#just making out REALLY heavily
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pull on your pout (just open your mouth)
kintober day 1: pegging
summary: eddie has some kinks he's never told anyone about, let alone explored, and you're more than happy to help him out.
pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader (eddie munson x afab!reader if you squint)
warnings: smut, minors DNI, explicit language, lots of dirty talk, sub!eddie, dom!reader, rough sex, (mild) painplay, (slight) puppy play
words: 4.5k
The moment you laid eyes on Eddie Munson, you knew you had to make him scream.
He was so pretty, so cocksure as he floated through the crowd of the metal show you’d happened to meet at, and his easy smile ignited something within you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. A few people called out greetings as he strolled past them, and he’d return them in kind, either with a flourish of his hand or an exaggerated bow. He had a red cup he’d been sipping from when he sauntered up to where you were, leaned against a metal barricade just after the show ended, and the grin he flashed over the lip of it only confirmed your newfound desire.
“Mind if I bum one of those off you?” he asked, pointing a ringed finger at the cigarette that dangled from your mouth. You puffed once, twice, looking him over in thought before reaching into your skirt's waistband and pulling out your pack.
“Thanks, gorgeous,” he crooned. He plucked a cigarette out and tucked it between his lips, shifting his cup to his opposite hand so he could pat down his pockets, clearly in search of something. After a moment, you reached into your shirt and retrieved your lighter from its place inside your bra.
“Need a light?” you asked, flicking the wheel and illuminating Eddie’s face with firelight. His dark eyes, smeared in black kohl, glittered at you, and the way his smile stretched around the cigarette as he bent toward your flame made your stomach flip. He smelled of cheap weed and beer, sweat and cigarette smoke, cologne and earth - you had to physically restrain yourself from leaning down and taking an indulgent whiff of his hair only because you knew it’d make you look like an absolute lunatic.
“Much obliged,” he said, smoke curling from his full, pink lips. You watched them purse, and his cheeks hollowed as he sucked on his smoke, the end flaring cherry red, before he tipped his head back and exhaled audibly. When his eyes met yours again, you realized they sparkled all on their own without the assistance of a lighter.
“Wha’s your name?” His speech was just the slightest bit slurred, and you huffed out a laugh before angling your body toward him.
“Y/N. Yours?”
“Eddie Munson. ‘S a pleasure.” He draped one arm across his stomach while the other swept out dramatically behind him - unfortunately, it just so happened to be the arm that clutched his drink. As he bowed toward you, his hand accidentally tipped his cup just a little too far, and dark liquid began to pour out onto the asphalt freely. It splattered noisily for a few seconds before Eddie seemed to realize what he’d done, and he swore as he straightened up and snatched his arm back.
“Fuck. Aw, well, ‘s for the best, I guess,” he reasoned, staring into the nearly empty cup as if it’d personally offended him. You surmised that, at this moment, it probably had. “Tastes like shit anyway.”
Even in his inebriated state, talking to him was easier than talking to most men - hell, it was easier than talking to most people in general. No awkward silences or lulls compelled you to drag on your cigarette just to give your mouth something to do - the words flowed out of you effortlessly, as if you’d known him for years. His laugh was like music, loud and sincere, bursting out of his mouth with abandon even when you didn’t think you’d said anything amusing. He kept edging closer and closer to you the entire conversation, and you let him, mainly because you wanted a closer look at his pretty face.
His hair, long and curly and matted to his forehead with sweat, coiled softly around his high, pale cheeks, and if you’d had enough alcohol in you, you would’ve reached up and pushed a lock behind his ear for him. He towered over you, which made the filthy thoughts swirling around in your head all the more thrilling. Something inside you, something mean and wicked, wanted to make this boy cry beneath you.
When Eddie stumbled into you, tripping over his own two feet, you asked if he needed a ride home. He shook his head but didn’t move to pull away from you. His hand was behind your body, curled onto the barricade for purchase, and you were so close you could feel the warmth radiating off his body as you tilted your head up to look into his eyes.
“Got a friend ‘m stayin’ with,” he murmured, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll be okay. You can gimme your number though if you wan’ me to call you when I get to where I’m goin’.”
It was so forward that had it come out of anyone else’s mouth, you would’ve snorted and left him cold. Eddie wasn’t anyone else, though.
“You got a pen?”
Shockingly, he did - he extracted a fat-tipped permanent marker from the pocket of his leather jacket. You kept it to yourself how funny it was that he didn’t have a lighter but was carrying around a huge marker.
Without missing a beat, you lifted a hand and tugged down the collar of his shirt, exposing the creamy flesh of his collarbone. The little whoosh of air that left his lips didn’t escape you as you touched the felt tip of the marker to his skin and slowly wrote down your phone number. Beneath it, you signed your name and punctuated it all with a small, black heart. Eddie stayed still as stone while you wrote on him. It was as if your audacity, the arrogance of marking his flesh, had shocked him into a state of placidity.
When your eyes met again, there was a heat in his gaze that hadn’t been there moments before. You smirked, capped the marker, and slipped it back inside his jacket.
“Make sure you call,” you said, your voice low. “You wouldn’t wanna worry me, now would you?”
Eddie shook his head slowly, almost dazedly. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and flashed him a cloyingly sweet smile.
“Good.” You raised one hand and rested it gently against his cheek, silently reveling in how tiny shivers rippled throughout his entire body at your touch, and patted him on the face condescendingly. You swore that, for a moment, right as you were pulling your hand away, you saw Eddie go to lean into your touch.
“I’ll be waiting.”
With that, you untucked yourself from against Eddie’s body and traipsed away.
He did, in fact, call you the very next morning and ask you on a proper date.
Whether or not that date ended up with Eddie fucking your brains out while you bent over the front seat of his van, scratching grooves into the cracked leather seats and practically drooling at the way his cock felt as it drilled inside you, was another matter entirely. (It did; you offered to help pay to fix the upholstery; Eddie refused, and the scratches still stare up at you knowingly every time you enter the van.)
That said, it didn’t take long at all to figure out that sometimes - a surprising number of “sometimes” - Eddie loved foisting control over to you just as much as he loved wrenching it away. He’d first admitted as much a few weeks after you started seeing each other. You’d been making out, ass planted firmly in his lap and hands plunged in his thick mass of hair when you gave a handful at the nape of his neck an experimental tug. Nothing too hard, just a test of the waters.
Eddie moaned.
He looked positively scandalized the second the sound had left his mouth, but you didn’t give him enough time to be embarrassed. Instead, you twisted your hand, yanking the curls in your fist until they were taut; Eddie’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, lids fluttering, and his jaw dropped wide open to loose another pathetic, delicious sound.
“That feel good, baby?” you asked.
“Y-Yeah,” he whined. You slackened your grip just enough to let his head bob forward a bit and then snatched it straight back by tangling both hands in the hair on either side of his neck. He sat up straighter, his spine snapping into one long line as you gave him a wolfish grin. You only paused when you noticed the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.
“D’you need me to ease up?” You would have, of course, in a heartbeat - pain for pleasure’s sake was one thing, but it was another thing entirely to inflict pain just for the hell of it, especially when the person you were inflicting pain on couldn’t handle it. But Eddie just blinked at you, his brown eyes glossy and distant, almost as if he was starting to drift off somewhere, and smiled dreamily.
“No,” he said. “Pull harder.”
And so you did.
Later, when he was bucking into you from below, keening and whimpering like he was dying, scalp no doubt burning from the consistent abuse you’d demonstrated toward his hair, you leaned down into his ear and asked him if he liked when you hurt him like this.
“Yes, fuck,” he gasped. “I love it, I love it, please, more, please.”
“You think I should do this more often? Hm?”
“Whenever you want, Jesus Christ.” His back arched beautifully as you dragged your long, sharp nails down his bare chest, staining his pale skin with angry red lines. He grabbed your hips and held you in place, fucking into you desperately, unable to contain himself.
“You like it when I mark you up?” you growled, determined to stay focused through the stars exploding behind your eyes and the pleasure burning its way through your body. “When I own you like this? You’re just a little painslut for me, aren’t you, baby?”
When Eddie came, and he came hard, he was sobbing, “Yes, yes, yes, own me, use me, fuck, hurt me, I’m yours.”
You made sure that afterward when you could extricate yourselves from his bed, you took great care in tenderly washing and kissing the marks you left on him in the shower. You also washed his hair for him, choosing to massage his stinging scalp for so long the water was cold by the time you both hopped out.
You asked him later, while he was snuggled up behind you in his bed, arms wrapped possessively around your middle and nose buried in your wet hair, if he really, really liked everything you’d done.
“Most definitely,” he murmured, kissing your neck.
“You made such pretty sounds,” you said, and Eddie squirmed. He could sing your praises all day, wax poetic about how beautiful and sexy and perfect he thought you were, but when you returned that sentiment in kind, he tended to shrink. You resolved to fix that habit at a later date.
“You never told me you liked all that,” you said, reaching back to rest a hand on his flank. “I woulda done it sooner.”
“You never asked,” Eddie said simply. “‘Sides, that stuff is tame compared to other shit I’m interested in.”
Oh? Eddie tensed as soon as it seemed to register what he’d said, but you couldn’t stop yourself. He piqued your curiosity; that wasn’t your fault, and besides - you needed to know what else could make Eddie Munson whine for you immediately.
“You don’t say? Pray tell, what would be that ‘other shit?’”
“Uh…sorry, can’t hear you, sleeping.” He crushed himself against your back and faked a loud, raucous snore right in your ear. You laughed, and to his credit, he did actually fall asleep rather quickly after that, but you both knew you weren’t going to let that go so easily.
It took a while, months, before you could chip away at the embarrassment barring you from all of Eddie’s desires. You never pushed, never wanted to make him feel like he had to tell you anything, just gently encouraged him by promising there was nothing he could say that would scare you off or gross you out. Mostly, Eddie just liked pain - receiving and giving. He made the sweetest sounds when you satiated the more masochistic side of him: slapping him squarely across the face, scoring marks into his smooth back and chest, winding his hair around your fist, and pulling.
He liked it when you whispered filthy, degrading things into his ear, too, possibly even more than the pain. You discovered how deeply he appreciated being called a slut early on, but it wasn’t until one night when you were riding him into the mattress, that the phrase “good dog” tumbled past your lips without much thought. Eddie’s orgasm swept through him without warning, and you drank in the shocked, blissed-out expression that contorted his face while making a mental note of that particular kink.
His final confession came after the fog of intoxication had settled over the pair of you one day, beer and weed buzzing through your veins and making Eddie’s inhibitions low enough to admit that he’d always, secretly, been curious about what it’d feel like to get fucked in the ass.
“Oh?”
“I…yeah, I guess,” he said, throwing an arm over his eyes as he lay on his back.
“How curious are we talkin’ here?”
“Like…I dunno…very?”
“Baby. Look at me.”
One of your favorite things about Eddie was how quickly he obeyed when you lowered your voice. It was like it didn’t even occur to him not to listen. He peeked at you from around his forearm.
“Do you want me to fuck you in the ass, puppy?”
The sweet, high noise that bubbled up his throat as he nodded stoked that need in your belly, which demanded you do everything in your power to bring Eddie to tears as he writhed underneath you.
That conversation is how you got here tonight.
Eddie waits for you patiently on his bed, naked, rolled onto all fours with his head bowed low between his shoulders, the pale globes of his ass arched skyward. His dark curls pool around his face, so you can’t see it, but you watch his back rise and fall rapidly with his breathing, and the backs of his thighs are trembling with anticipation.
Fenagling a strap-on is more challenging than you’d originally thought. Slotting the dildo into place was unexpectedly tricky - it’s one you purchased years ago, and admittedly, the pink, sparkling hunk of silicone looks a little silly nestled amongst the otherwise imposing black material. But when Eddie caught a glimpse of it coming out of your bag tonight, his eyes went wide as saucers, and it took a moment for his brain to stop short-circuiting enough to carry on a conversation with you. You told him to stay put while you fought with the smooth, cold leather around your hips, and he has, wanting so badly to be good for you. His cock hangs hard and flushed between his hips, twitching intermittently as precum beads from the tip and drools onto his bedsheets.
“Just a minute longer, puppy. Are you okay?” you call, and Eddie nods.
“‘M fine, angel.”
“Good. Why don’t you stroke your cock while I finish up here, hm?”
He obeys, slipping a hand down between his legs to grip the base of his cock. His body slumps slightly, and he turns his head out as it’s pressed into the sheets. Eddie mewls softly as you tighten the last strap against your thigh, and you steal a glance at him. His fist moves slowly over himself, stroking from base to tip and then back again in carefully measured pumps.
He doesn’t notice when you sidle up behind him, totally unaware of your presence, until you drag your nails featherlight over the back of his legs. He shudders, gasping sharply through his teeth, and his hand stills on his cock.
“Will you hand me the lube, baby?”
Eddie releases his dick to pat a hand around the bed, and eventually, he presses the small, cylindrical bottle of lube into your palm. It’s half-empty, thoroughly used in the weeks leading up to tonight, and the plastic sticks to your skin a bit as you snap the cap open and drizzle lubricant onto your first two fingers.
He’s taken more than just two fingers, many times now - a few nights ago, you squeezed four inside his ass before he came all over his stomach. You’ve taken this entire process very slowly, partially because you’d hate to hurt the poor thing and ruin his fantasy before it even really had a chance to begin and partially because you just love how he cries when you tease him open nice and lazily.
You lean over him, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades as you swipe a dollop of lube over his hole. He hisses, flinching away from your fingers a bit.
“Cold,” he complains, and you shush him gently.
“I know, baby. Just relax, you’re shakin’ like a leaf.”
“‘M excited,” Eddie mumbles, and you kiss his back again.
You swirl your fingers around his puckered hole, teasing the rim and nudging the tips just the slightest bit inside to coax the muscle into softening for you. Eddie sighs and shifts a bit so he can grab his cock again.
When you press your index finger inside him, up to the first knuckle, Eddie keens and drives his face into the bed. That just won’t do.
“Uh uh,” you admonish. Your free hand tangles in his hair at the root, and you yank his head back up, forcing him to steady himself on one elbow. He gasps, then whines, trying to cast a look over his shoulder at you.
“You don’t hide from me,” you remind him. “‘Specially when it muffles those pretty noises. Understand?”
“Y-Yes. Sorry, angel,” he breathes, and the slick, hurried sounds below you alert you to how much faster he’s stroking his cock now. You probe your fingers inside him further, watching and waiting for any sign of distress or pain he doesn’t enjoy until you’ve sunk all the way to the top of your palm. After you’ve given him a moment to adjust, you pull out almost entirely and bend over him until your chest presses into his back.
“D’you remember what you say if you can’t take it, puppy?” you whisper against the shell of his ear. He shivers and nods.
“Mmhm. Mercy,” he says.
“Good boy, that’s right. Feel that?” You release your hold on his hair to fist the dildo in your hand and tap it against where your fingers stretch his hole. Eddie chokes on the breath he tries to suck in, and his hips stutter forward.
“This is goin’ in your ass tonight, baby. Do you think you can handle all that?”
“Fuck, yes, yes, I can,” he assures you.
“Yeah? Gotta finger you open first. Make sure you’re ready. Although, I bet you’d love it if I just stuffed my cock inside you right now.” You never would, and you both know that; you mutually agreed that foregoing necessary prep work would end disastrously. But the way Eddie swears and clenches around the tips of your fingers is so fucking cute that, for a moment, you’re tempted.
You drive your fingers inside him again, pumping it in and out fast enough that Eddie doesn’t have a moment to catch his breath. He splutters pathetically below you, bucking into his hand while simultaneously trying to fuck himself back on your fingers, and you just let him - far be it from you to deny yourself the pleasure of watching Eddie Munson act like a complete slut.
A few minutes pass before you feel comfortable enough to add a third finger inside his ass, and this time you purposefully thrust them right against his prostate. His back curls like a cat’s before he allows himself to fall flat on his face. He’s a wonderful, obedient boy because he makes sure no sheets or pillows obstruct his pretty mouth, just as you asked.
“Fuck, that feels so fucking good, angel, Christ,” he moans, brows knitted together so tight he almost looks pained. “More, please, I want more. I can take it.”
“Aww, my puppy’s so excited,” you croon, and he nods fervently. You crook your fingers and settle them deep inside his ass, circling that sensitive bundle of nerves until he’s panting and thrusting sloppily into his fist. You could make him cum like this, you know you could, but where’s the fun in that? You want him to cum on your strap-on; you want him to experience spasming around something thick and hard and unrelenting, just as he’s fantasized about.
He hiccups when you slot your pinky finger inside his ass alongside the three other slick digits. When you start pumping into him earnestly, spreading all four fingers inside the loosening ring of muscle, Eddie gives you what you’ve been craving since the moment you met.
Eddie cries.
Sobs wrack his lithe frame as you work him open, dribbling more lube onto his hole and pressing it inside. If you weren’t so turned on that your pussy was drooling down your thigh, you might’ve giggled at the obscene, wet sounds his ass made every time you stuffed him full again.
“You’re doing such a good job taking it, puppy. My good little slut. That’s what you are, huh?”
“U-Uh-huh, shit.”
“I know, baby, I know. You’re so pathetic for me, crying on my fingers like this. You gonna cry on my cock, too?”
“If you - fucking hell - if you want me to, angel,” he offers, and you laugh, licking a stripe up the side of his neck. His skin is rich with the salt of his sweat, and you can’t help yourself. You force his head to one side with a hand in his hair and follow the trail you licked with your teeth, setting their edge against his soft, welcoming flesh until you bite. Eddie whimpers and trembles for you, so pretty, so perfect, and you bite him even harder. You want him to bruise; you want him to walk around Hawkins tomorrow with your mark proudly emblazoned on his pale throat.
“I-I need, I need, angel, I n-need,” Eddie stammers, breath coming in shallow, short puffs around the fragments of his sentence. You detach your teeth from his neck and straighten back up.
“You need? What do you need?”
“You, I need you,” he weeps. “Need you inside me, please, please, I can’t take it anymore-”
“You’ll take whatever I decide you’ll take, puppy,” you say. When you pull all four fingers out of Eddie’s twitching hole, he cries out like he’s in pain, like you’re trying to kill him. You admire your handiwork, spreading his ass apart with both hands and watching his red, slick hole flutter as it attempts to remain open despite its newfound emptiness.
“You’re so beautiful down here. All gaped open for me like a whore.” Eddie nods, though you aren’t sure if he actually registers anything you’re saying. He’s so blissed out already, so eager, you think he’d agree to whatever happened to fall out of your mouth right now.
“What color are you on, Eds?” you ask, and the way your voice swings upward into its usual cadence seems to snap him back to reality. He reaches for you, fingers outstretched until they manage to graze your thigh and squeezes it in reassurance.
“Green. I’m so fuckin’ green, baby.”
You smile. “Yeah? Havin’ fun?”
“Absolutely. I’m alright, angel, don’t worry.”
“Alright. Keep yourself spread for me, puppy. I wanna watch my cock disappear inside you.”
Eddie swears and complies instantly, releasing his slippery, dark red cock and placing both hands on either side of his ass. He pulls his cheeks apart dutifully, black nails digging into plush flesh, and even deepens the arch in his back for you as he settles into this new position.
You slather an abundance of lube on your dildo, so much that it drips onto the sheets, and line the head up with Eddie’s hole.
“Ready?”
“Mmm.”
“Take a deep breath, baby.”
The head pops in with little to no resistance, vanishing completely inside Eddie’s hole, and though you obviously can’t feel it, a moan tumbles out of your throat. It’s so fucking hot, seeing Eddie like this, knowing you’re the cause of it, and it takes quite a bit of self-control not just to feed him the rest of your cock right away and pound him into the mattress. He’d like it, too, the slut. But you refrain.
You drag in a breath through your teeth and press into him slowly, filling him bit by agonizing bit, and he voices his need loudly beneath you. One hand claws his mattress desperately, almost like he’s trying to crawl away, while the other jerks his swollen cock thoughtlessly, and it seems all he knows how to say right now is “please.” Please, please, please. After a while, when you’re more than halfway inside him, the word loses all meaning for you. You have to wonder if it even had meaning for Eddie in the first place or if it was just the only one his brain could conjure up to say.
“That’s it, baby, look at you,” you pant. Your hips are pressed flush to Eddie’s ass, the dildo buried inside him to the base. He writhes, gasping, sputtering, the picture of desperation. You want to keep him this way forever - speared on your dick, aching for it, needing you more than air, crying so prettily just for you. It’s selfish, but fuck, maybe you’re okay with that.
“Do you need a second, puppy?”
“No,” he wails, apparently offended by the question. He bucks against you so hard you almost lose your balance, and you steady yourself by laying your hands over where he’s still spreading himself. “God, fuck me, fuck me please, fuck my ass, angel, I’m going fucking crazy here.”
A wicked smirk curls across your lips. If that’s what he wants, who are you to deny him? That’d just be plain mean.
You yank him toward you, dragging him to the very edge of the bed, causing him to lose his balance - and his grip on his ass. Before he can collect himself, you gather his wrists into one hand and pin them to the small of his back. It looks a bit silly, you have to admit; his hands are so much bigger than yours, rough and callused from hours of guitar practice, and truthfully, if he wanted to break free of your grasp, he could do so with not even half the strength you’re currently exerting just to keep him somewhat contained. But that’s the beauty of Eddie’s submission - he doesn’t want to break free. He wants to be manhandled, thrown around like he’s so much smaller and weaker than he truly is; he wants to be used.
Most importantly, he wants you to use him.
It’s fucking intoxicating.
You twist a long, thick rope of his hair around your free hand and tug his head back, forcing his gaze skyward. You notice the shimmer of drool on the corner of his lips and chuckle.
“You wanna take it, then take it.”
You pull out, just until the very edge of the dildo is left inside Eddie’s quivering hole, and then slam back inside him again. He slackens against you, and you’re confident he would collapse if you weren’t forcing him up by the hair. You can see his lashes twitching, no doubt from his eyes rolling straight into the back of his head. Your name wrapped inside his wrecked, watery voice is all you need to keep thrusting.
You set a brutal pace almost immediately. Eddie’s bed squeaks and rattles from the force of it, lifting far enough off the ground that the frame starts to screech into the adjacent wall. The sound of Eddie’s strained, keening cries, punctuated by skin slapping viciously against skin, is like the sweetest harmony you’ve ever heard. You pull him toward you, forcing him almost back on his haunches and plaster sloppy, open-mouthed kisses across his back and shoulders.
“You’re doing so fucking good, puppy,” you grunt. “You’re taking it like a fuckin’ pro. So hard for me, too, I bet you’re just aching, huh?”
All Eddie can do is nod. You twist your hand, compelling him to turn his face toward you, and crane your neck to capture his lips in a kiss that’s mostly teeth and tongue. He whimpers into your mouth, allowing you to lick your way inside and swallow all the beautiful, agonized sounds he’s making just for you. You don’t have enough hands, you decide - you need more to scratch him with, to stroke his cock, to choke him and slap him and make him gag on your fingers. You need more of him; you need to take anything that he can give you all for yourself. It belongs to you, just as he does.
The possessiveness that burns through your belly spurs you on, and you growl filth huskily into his ear. “You’re mine, you understand that? Mine. No one else’s ever gonna make you feel this good, are they, puppy?”
“N-No, angel, jus’ you…yours, all yours,” he slurs.
“That’s right. Your pretty little hole is mine, mine to fuck and fill as much as I want, isn’t it?”
“Fuck, uh huh, yes.”
“Next time, I’m gonna fuck you on your back. Have you spread your legs for me like a little whore. I wanna watch your face while I wreck you, watch how much of a cockslut you are-”
“Jesus Christ, God, angel, I-I’m cumming, I can’t st-ah!”
Eddie shudders and falls silent for a moment, just long enough for you to look around his shoulder and see how his cock pulses before the first rope of cum splatters onto the sheets below. Then, Eddie screams. It’s a sound torn straight from the depths of his soul, suffering and ecstasy all rolled into one perfect package. You keep fucking him through the shockwaves of his orgasm and watch the cum dribble down his throbbing cock, spilling onto the bed and dripping messily down his thighs.
“That’s my good boy, you did so fuckin’ well for me, baby,” you coo. “You didn’t even have to touch yourself, I’m so proud of you, sweet thing.”
It takes a while for Eddie to come back down to Earth after that. He mumbles nonsense as you ease out of his ass and lower him onto the bed - in a dry, unsullied portion next to the wall - and doesn’t even notice when you leave for a moment to grab a wet, warm washcloth to clean him up with. He seems to snap out of his haze when you loosen the harness straps, and it falls to the ground with a thud.
He reaches for you wordlessly, long, thin fingers shaking as he clenches and unclenches them against his palm. Your heart swells and aches inside your chest as you clasp his hand and press a kiss to the back of it.
“I’m so proud of you, baby,” you repeat. You gingerly brush a lock of hair out of Eddie’s face, revealing his flushed, tear-stained cheeks and swollen lips. He blinks wet lashes at you, brown eyes foggy and unfocused. His smile is sweet, shy even, and he tucks himself against you as you settle into bed.
“Wanna…do that again,” he rasps after you’ve wrapped him up in your arms. You chuckle and kiss the top of his head.
“We can do that whenever you’d like, sweet thing.”
He hums in approval. You lay like that for a while, bodies curled around each other, stroking Eddie’s cheek and occasionally pressing a kiss to his temple. You don’t realize you’ve nearly dozed off until Eddie calls your name, and you shake yourself awake.
“Hm?”
“D’you hear what I said?”
“No, puppy, I’m sorry. What was that?”
“I said my arm’s asleep.”
You snort, and so does Eddie as he rolls himself out from under you enough to free his tingling appendage. He drapes it around your shoulders, and this time, he drags you in against his chest. His hair tickles your cheek as he kisses the tip of your nose.
“Thank you,” he breathes.
“My pleasure. Oh, and baby?”
“Hm?”
“Next time, you’re taking something bigger.”
The shiver slithering Eddie’s spine tells you all you need to know.
#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#kinktober#kinktober 2023#stranger things fic#stranger things smut#eddie munson smut#fluff and smut#smut fic#x reader#sub!eddie munson#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson x y/n smut#eddie munson x you smut#f!reader#smut#stranger kinks#my writing
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Smut request idea: Eddie worshipping reader's tits, who is insecure about their small size (lol totally not projecting 😅)
ty for requesting :D — eddie 'heart eyes' munson sees your boobs for the first time (cw for nudity, but no real smut, 18+ mdni, 1.1k)
bug's one year celebration ♡
On a rainy, post-show night, in the back of Eddie Munson’s van, you decide to be brave.
Buzzing with alcohol, adrenaline, and adoration — a wild concoction rushing like fire through your veins — you take your shirt off for the very first time in front of him. Mostly because your sweater was getting itchy, so you’re not entirely sure how brave that makes you. But your skin burns still, empty like a blank sky, yearning for a warmer touch to fall over you like stars.
In the simplest, most human way, you need Eddie to touch you like you need to breathe air.
So, when you tugged the fuzzy sweater up and over your head, you hadn’t thought much about doing it. You were too full of need, too unthinking. Head clouded with longing until you developed something short of tunnel vision for the boy underneath you.
It wasn’t that big a deal, right? Isn’t this what girlfriends do with boyfriends?
Eddie’s silence is not reassuring. It feels more like a knife lodged in the very center of your sternum.
You lay the sweater beside you and cross your arms slowly over yourself. Equal parts to hide what you’d just revealed to him and to shield your bleeding, stinging heart.
Eddie’s face twists, pained features swirling like a hurt puppy. “Wait— What are you doing?” he asks in an unabashed whine. His less-than-subtle pout deepens as his chocolate-button eyes flit up to yours.
You keep curling in on yourself, but from where you straddle his thighs, he’s impossible to run away from. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” you wonder in a tiny voice, distantly fearful of the answer.
You don’t have the kind of chest people put on magazines. Maybe you should’ve just kept the shirt on.
Eddie’s ringed fingers smooth around your bare waist. He realizes he’s holding you there for the very first time without any fabric covering you. His chest starts to sparkle. His thumbs rub gently at your ribcage, just below the arms still concealing yourself.
“‘Cause I’m too busy enjoying the view, honey,” he answers with a plush pink and crooked smile. His words are slightly slurred, weighed down by fatigue and desire. “How am I supposed to think when I’m looking at you, huh?”
You make a faint, grumbly noise, features scrunching in disdain at his compliment.
He smiles wider and curls his fingers around the wrists you hold over yourself. There is little force behind his touch, no eagerness to tug your hands away. Instead he just holds you, in a distinctly quiet embrace, telling you silently that you can let your guard down whenever you’re ready.
“So you don’t think they’re weird?”
He answers with an immediate scoff. “No, I don’t think they’re weird— I think they’re beautiful! I think every part of you is beautiful.”
You grow less and less tense in his hold. Your hands start to slip. You let them.
Bare again in front of him, the boyish glimmer in Eddie’s dark eyes returns.
The wild cadence of rain on the rusted tin roof resembles the rapid patter of his pounding heart as he ogles at you. And, with his back propped against the driver’s seat, he has the most perfect view of you.
The pale hands along your ribcage slowly start to rise. His warm touch leaves sparkling goosebumps in its wake. He doesn’t stop until his thumbs are settled neatly beneath your breasts.
“I mean— I always knew they’d be pretty, you know?” he mumbles, getting lost in you all over again. You don’t know if he’s talking to you, or if he even knows he’s rambling. “‘Cause when you’d let me feel you up, you know, over the shirt— I always imagined what you’d look like under it…”
He trails off then, forgets how to make words when his thumb rubs over your soft nipple. The gentle stimulation makes it stiffen beneath his touch. Eddie smiles to himself, all boyishly giddy.
“…But I couldn’t’ve, in my wildest imagination, expected this.”
Your chest warms with his affection. You scoff about it, anyway. “You’re such a boy,” you laugh.
“It’s not my fault you’re so pretty…”
Still cupping your chest, Eddie leans down to kiss you there. A chaste, open-mouthed peck to your pebbled nipple. His heart swells when he hears you moan above him — your nose buried in the strands of his wild hair, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.
Eddie licks his rosy lips when he pulls back from you.
“See? You’re gonna kill me one day, doll— I swear,” he teases in a joking tone, but means every bit of it. He loves you so much it makes his chest ache. You’ll give him a goddamn heart attack one day if he’s not careful. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding from me this whole time…”
You’re not sure either, now.
“I was just scared that… I don’t know,” you stammer, clammy hands fidgetting with his intentionally tattered Corroded Coffin t-shirt. You’d helped him cut rips into the white fabric before the show. You distract yourself with the pink lipstick smudge you’d pressed along the neck of it, rubbing hopelessly at a stain that’ll never come off.
“I was scared that you’d think I was less pretty or something. I don’t know.”
“No,” Eddie recoils immediately, face twisting in abhorrence of the thought. He shakes his wild head at you. “No way. That’s not possible. I think you’re fucking— perfect. And I think that…”
His eyes fall to your chest again. He loses the rest of his words.
A smile blossoms on your face. You don’t think you’ve ever felt prettier than you do right now.
“You think that what?” you tease, hands rising again to twist in his deep brown curls.
Eddie’s button eyes flit back up to you. His ringed hands lift to cup your breasts in his wide palms. They fit just perfect in his hands — like he was made to hold you there. The width of his beam rivals your own.
“That I just found Corroded Coffin’s next album cover,” he answers.
The sound of your laughter fills the van. Sunshine compared to the rolling rain outside.
“No. No way. That’s not happening,” you refuse, still smiling, as Eddie leans into you again.
You wrap your arms around his neck when he puts his mouth on you. He buries his own laughter against the plush of your breast — along with so many little kisses.
He doesn’t mind your light-hearted rejection. The only thing Eddie likes more than showing you off is keeping you totally to himself.
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#stranger things x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti drabble#event: bug turns one
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Adopt a Jock Part 1
Part 2
Part 4
Shoutout to @bloomingconflagration for the title!!! And a HUGE thank you to everyone who left comments or gave suggestions!! I love you all you amazing, silly humans <3 <3
There comes a time during a long work shift were your average overworked and underpaid employee starts to think they’re hallucinating.
In Gareth’s case, it was when Steve Harrington walked through the doors of Palace Arcade, making a beeline right for him.
“Gareth?” Steve asked, like he was the one out of place. “What are you doing here?”
As if people just randomly stood behind the counter of retail and entertainment spaces with a nametag on.
You know, for fun.
With a great deal of restraint, Gareth managed to hold the sass back, instead opting for a far more polite; ‘I work here, Harrington. What are you doing here?”
Because no matter how much Hellfire had adopted Steve into its fold, Gareth could just not see the guy choosing to spend his free time at the local arcade.
Not of his own free will, anyway.
“Pick up duty.” Steve said, proving him right not even a second later.
“Of what?” Gareth asked, puzzled, right before Steve’s name was shouted in stereo.
A miniature stampede took place as several children proceeded to swarm him like oversized puppies, most of them trying to talk at once.
“One at a time, we talked about this!” Steve barked, loud enough to be heard over the commotion. “You’re giving me and Gareth here a headache!”
He waved his hands in a “calm down” gesture, shaking his head and looking at Gareth in exasperation. “Probably giving the people in the video store next door one too, lord.”
“Wait.” A curly-haired kid said, looking between the two older teens like he was watching the laws of the universe rewrite themselves in front of him. “You know Gary? How?”
“We are not close enough for you to call me Gary.” Gareth said dryly, for what felt like the fifteenth time that day.
This was a regular battle between him and the kids who haunted the arcade.
(One had overheard Grant call him Gary the last time he was in, and ever since, every single child that graced this fine establishment with Cheeto-dusted fingers and candy-induced sugar rushes had decided to replace his actual name with his nickname.
The fact it clearly frustrated him only egged them on. )
“We go to school together Dustin,” Steve said, as if he were talking to someone particularly dense.
“Yeah? You go to school with lots of people. You bitch about most of them.” Dustin fired back.”Plus Gary’s a total nerd. I bet you call him names.”
"Hey, language!"
Gareth’s eyes narrowed as he glared down at the little fucker. He was definitely going to remember Dustin (and equally going to watch and see what arcade games the younger teen played-- and top the score chart of every single fucking one.
He might be a nerd but he wasn’t gonna take that shit from a middle schooler.)
“Hate to break it to you brats, but your babysitter here just joined our D&D club.” Gareth replied, if only to finally one-up the little bastards. “Our DM is building him a character as we speak.”
(Which wasn't even a lie. Eddie was building a character for Steve. The guy just refused to give any input on grounds that he "wasn't going to play anyways." )
Abrupt and sudden silence, as several stunned faces stared at him.
“Oh goddammit.” Harrington cursed, as the entire herd of children turned on him in unison like some kind of hivemind horror monster.
“You joined the D&D club,” Dustin said slowly, outraged. “And you let them make you a character sheet, but you won’t play with us!?”
“What the hell Steve!” The sporty-looking one whined, clearly hurt. “You won’t sit in on our games! You said they were lame!”
“They are lame.” Steve defended immediately, pushing at sporty-kids head. It was fond though, the kind of gentle shove an elder brother gave to a younger one. It caused the kid's camo banana to fall into his eyes, which he adjusted quickly with a grumble. “Turns out the high school version’s cooler.”
“He’s lying.” That from the bitchy one, whose arms were crossed over his chest, a glare on his face. “Steve probably paid Gary to say that”
Gareth had seen that exact same stance on Steve at lunch that day, and wondered if the little asshole knew who he was copying when he did it.
“Who cares about D&D?” This from the redhead, standing with another girl giggling in her ear. “I’m just amazed Steve has friends.”
“Really Mayfield?” Steve said, looking almost betrayed. As if he thought she was going to be the one to defend him in this weird little showdown.
The girl leaning on her giggled harder, making Mayfield grin (even if she tried to hide it.) She whispered something, which the redhead outright laughed at before repeating; “Adult friends even!”
“Okay.” Steve said, clearly cutting the kids off before they could embarrass him further. “Thank you, unwanted peanut gallery, for all of that lovely commentary. Now go back to playing the games you little shits robbed me of all my quarters for, or we’re leaving.”
Henderson’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were here to pick us up?”
“Oh I’m sorry, did Jonathan magically appear behind me in the last five seconds?” Steve turned around pretending to search the parking lot through the windows. “No? Then I guess we’re still waiting. Unless you, Lucas and Max want to leave first.”
“You’re such an ass.” Dustin huffed, rolling his eyes. “Why aren’t you waiting in the car anyway?”
“It’s raining, it’s cold, and I thought I’d come in to say hi to my friend.” Steve replied, so quickly it took Gareth a moment to realize what Steve referred to him as.
He'd gotten the friend title before Eddie.
His best friend was going to fucking freak.
“Are you done drilling me or are you going to let Max kick your ass at DigDug again?”
“Shit!” Henderson cursed, spinning to intercept the redhead as she bent to put a coin in said arcade machine. “Max, you said you’d let me keep my leaderboard score today! Max!”
“I know you said you watched kids, but this wasn’t exactly what I was imagining.” Gareth said, slumping against the counter.
(He'd been thinking of Steve watching much younger kids for one, and two, he was starting to get the idea the babysitter thing was used as an insult.
Gareth knew a big brother vibe when he saw it.)
Steve gave him a tired look. “Me neither man. Me neither.”
Then; “You fucking owe me for that D&D comment, they’re never going to shut up about it now.”
Gareth winced. “Sorry. I was trying to help.”
Steve blew out a breath. “I know. I appreciate the attempt.”
Which was better than Steve bitching at him for it, not that he’d really ever done that to Gareth.
The two of them hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to be playful like that with each other, though they had occasionally jumped in on opposing sides to arguments Eddie caused. Gareth figured they’d get there in time, but even with all the progress Steve made, he still had more off days than on.
It was a fragile line to walk with him. Especially when there wasn’t a single member of Hellfire who wanted to ruin the progress they made.
(Even if half of them would never admit to it.)
“Steve?” A voice interrupted, quiet in a way that contrasted directly with how loud the rest of the brat pack was.
Steve closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand as if to starve off a headache.
“Yes, Baby Byers?” He asked after a long, painful pause, turning to look at the saddest looking kid in the bunch.
“Is there actually a D&D club at the high school?”
The kid looked at Steve like he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to hear the answer, but was hopeful for the outcome he wanted anyway.
It was the kind of thing that pulled even on Gareth’s heartstrings, and he was almost immune to anything involving giant, sad eyes after a solid year of working at the arcade.
(Never mind Eddie’s own puppy dog looks.)
Steve’s voice gentled, in a way Gareth had never quite heard him use before. “There is. You’d love it, it’s called Hellfire. I’m sure it’ll still be there next year when you come in as a freshman.”
He nudged him with his shoulder playfully, smiling when the younger boy perked up. “If you’re nice, Garebear here might even put in a good word for you.”
“Garebear?” Max repeated with a burst of laughter, appearing behind Steve like a fucking ghost. “Oh my god.”
“No.” Gareth said, bolting upright from his slouch as he stared at her in horror. “Do not call me that.”
“Sure thing, Garebear.” She outright cackled, as Steve sent him a wide-eyed, apologetic face.
“What did you just call Gary?” The sporty one--Lucas, asked, a wide grin overtaking his face.
“I swear to God.” Gareth threatened, as Steve took another dramatic look over his shoulder.
“Hey look Jonathan’s here!” He yelled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as he started quickly walking backwards. “Come on, dipshits, we're leaving!”
“Bye Garebear!” Lucas and Max sang together, following after him.
“Harrington!” Gareth howled, as Steve mouthed ‘Sorry’ over his shoulder, all but bolting out the door.
“I like Garebear a lot better than Gary.” Another, random child informed him with a grin as he sauntered past, arcade tickets in hand.
Steve Harrington, Gareth decided, was a dead man.
Not even Eddie’s fucking crush on the guy could save him now.
xXx
“Did you know Harrington has a literal pack of kids he watches?” Gareth asked a few hours later, messing with his drum kit as he set up for band practice. "He even drives them around."
More than that though--he’d seemed almost normal around them. That was the most Gareth had seen the guy banter or act relaxed since Eddie had dragged him over.
“He’s mentioned it multiple times.” Grant replied, tuning his bass. “You have ears Gareth, use them.”
“Gareth? Listen?” Jeff teased as he dragged an amp into the garage. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.”
"Oh screw you guys.” Gareth growled, winging a drumstick toward his friends for the insult.
Grant, long used to Gareth's tantrums (and Eddie's dramatics) didn't look up from his bass.
Not even when the drumstick hit the wall with a bang!-- allll the way near the opposite end of the couch, entirely opposite of either him or Jeff.
"As usual, your aim is dead on." Jeff appraised sarcastically.
"Like I'd ever actually hit you." Gareth grumbled with a pout. "I was gonna say the kids are older than I expected."
He reached down, blindly fishing for another drumstick from the bucket of them next to his kit.
He came up empty.
"Hey Grantman." Gareth asked, tone changing to something mildly embarrassed. "Could I uh, could I get the drumstick back?"
He got a flat stare back. "No."
"What did I do to get stuck with such dramatic friends?" Jeff joked as he began moving all the amps he’d pulled in back into their usual places.
They hadn't had time to unload anything other than the drums after their last show and the regret was real.
"Eddie’s been standing on tables since seventh grade, you knew what you were getting into." Gareth fired back, making grabby hands for his drumstick.
"And you never grew out of being that dorky middle schooler who snuck into Hellfire games and screamed we were all going to die every time anyone made a bad play." Jeff shot back. "Yet here I am, once again wondering if I should just permanently confiscate Eddie's snacks, your drumsticks, and now Harrington's fricken spatula."
"One year. I am one year younger than you and you act like it's an entire century!" Gareth muttered, as Grant relented and leaned over to fetch said drumstick.
"We all know Eddie chucks food at people, but what'd Steve do with a spatula?" Grant asked as he tossed it back to Gareth.
He missed and nearly took out a cymbal in the process.
"He had a snit while we were making chocolate roulade cause it wouldn’t roll right. Flung the spatula around so much it splattered whip cream on his ceiling." Jeff shook his head as he finished hooking an amp up to his guitar. "I had to rescue it from him."
"His ceiling?" Gareth said in disbelief. "Wait, you were in Harrington’s kitchen?"
"Yeah?" Jeff looked up to find his friends staring at him.
Grant blinked. "The fuck?"
“Can we just play?” Jeff complained, just as embarrassed as Gareth had been.
“No.” Gareth said, retrieved drumstick nearly falling from his hands in shock. “You don’t get to casually drop that you went to Harrington’s house to help him bake and then try to get us to play right after!”
Jeff, who had done exactly that, blushed, skin darkening as he fiddled with his guitar.
“It wasn’t a big deal.” He said finally with a shrug, as if this was something he did all the time and not the groundbreaking revelation that it was.
“Did you meet his parents?” Grant said, sitting up from the couch. “What did his house look like?”
Jeff finally gave up the pretense of playing his instrument.
“I didn't, and it was kinda sad, actually.” He said, as if he didn’t live for this kind of shit.
Gareth knew better than anyone how much of a fricken gossip Jeff could be.
“His house was enormous. I only saw the first floor, and his kitchen is huge.” He set his hands apart at a good distance, showcasing just how large “huge” was, before continuing.
“But it was weird. It was like a model home. No pictures on the walls, no art, no personality to the place at all.”
“What are we talking about?” Eddie asked, finally returning to Gareth’s garage from where he’d been gathering up all the wires they’d thrown haphazardly into his van.
“Jeff went to Harrington’s house.” Grant and Gareth tattled as one.
“To help bake stuff for this Friday!” Jeff defended, the blush creeping back onto his face. “I was curious about his chocolate roulade recipe and he invited me over!”
“When was this?” Eddie asked, staring at Jeff like he’d grown a second head.
Or more likely, Gareth knew, in jealousy. But he wasn’t going to call Eddie out on that just yet.
“Yesterday. We got to talking about it in the parking lot after school.” Jeff said with an embarrassed shrug. “He said he wasn’t the best at explaining how to do things and that he’d rather show me instead.”
“Kinky.” Grant deadpanned, making Jeff sputter.
“You sure you didn’t see his bedroom, Jeff? It’s okay if you fell for the ‘wanna see my music collection’ line. We won’t judge you.” Gareth waggled his eyebrows, ducking with a laugh when Jeff went to whack him.
“Shut up, we just made the chocolate roulade!” Jeff’s ears were red now, and huh, maybe Eddie wasn’t the only person with a crush.
“Guys.” Eddie reprimanded, tone warning.
“Sorry Eds, you know we don’t mean it.” Gareth soothed. Of course, his best friend's anger was less about the gay comments or Steve’s reputation as Hawkin’s man whore than it was about Steve fucking Jeff (and not Eddie) but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated if he pointed that out either.
Eddie didn’t respond, eyes already back on Jeff. "Details, Jeffery, give us the details!"
He dropped onto the couch, flapping his hands at Jeff in his version of a "sit down" gesture.
Jeff sighed, but repeated what he'd just said for Eddie as he took a seat on the edge of an amp, placing his guitar down gently.
"I think Wayne was right. I don't think anyone else lives there but Steve. Not full-time anyway." He finished.
Which sounded like the best fucking thing ever until Gareth thought about it for more than two seconds.
Tried to imagine what his life would be like if his parents and siblings were gone. Not for a day, or even a weekend, but always.
How silent his normally loud house would be.
Thought instantly that he'd be inviting Eddie, his friends, and hell, l even Wayne, over as often as they could handle.
"The way he looked when I showed up, and how quiet he got when I left I just…" Jeff fiddled with his guitar’s strap. "I think he's lonely."
The four of them sat in silence for a long moment as they digested that.
“Hargrove kicked his ass right? And Byers?” Grant said finally, breaking the silence ad he stared up at the ceiling.
“Old news.” Eddie replied absently, jiggling his leg.
“You think his parents were around for that?” Grant continued, slowly.
No one answered outside of Eddie's leg loudly jiggling faster.
"Did you see the kids hug him or anything?"
"They're like thirteen. I seriously doubt they're pestering Steve for hugs." Gareth answered flatly.
"So he got his ass kicked, his parents are gone, he was supposed involved in that whole has leak thing…" Grant trailed off with an air of someone who expected the end of his sentence to be obvious.
“You’re doing that thing again where you think what you’re saying is obvious and its fucking not.” Eddie grumped. "Just spit it out."
His friend's head finally tipped back down from the ceiling, to face the rest of them. “Maybe the flinching is because no one ever touches him anymore unless it’s to kick his ass.”
“Oh.” Eddie blinked, body going rigid. “Oh shit.”
“That…would make sense. A lot of sense.” Jeff said slowly.
Grant put on a face that read “Duh” loud and clear.
“So what do we do about it?" Gareth asked after a moment.
"Touch him, obviously." Grant replied, like he couldn't believe the drummer was even asking.
Gareth and Eddie shared a look while Eddie rolled his eyes.
"The guy almost fell down the stairs last time I tried that." Gareth pointed out.
Never mind any other time Steve got weird over the lightest of touches. Eddie couldn't even clap the guy on the shoulder without getting major side-eye.
"No." Eddie cut in, sitting up suddenly. His eyes had gone bright, "We're going to trick him into it."
"We're going to trick Harrington into being okay with, what? Shoulder pats?" Gareth echoed, like Eddie might hear himself if his words were repeated back to him. “You realize how stupid that sounds right?"
"Shut up, listen. It's like getting a stray to trust you. You just gotta be calm and so obvious about it that they get confused and let it happen." Eddie had begun practically vibrating, causing his friends to trade uneasy glances.
They knew that look. Eddie only got it when he thought up a plan that was going to cause problems.
"Eddie, that makes zero sense." Jeff told him.
Gareth just shook his head, because only Eddie Munson could compare Hawkins golden boy with a fucking stray animal.
Even if the guy kinda acted like one sometimes.
"I just need an opening." Eddie continued, the little hamster wheel spinning in his head so fast the rest of the band could almost hear it.
If Gareth had been told two months ago he was going to be sitting in his garage, discussing the best way to acclimate Steve Harrington to casual touch, he’d have actually smacked whatever idiot dared spew such nonsense with his drumsticks.
"I did tell tell the kids today you were making him a D&D character." He said, before his best friend could truly go off on some half cocked plot.
Eddie lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Gary, I could kiss you."
Gareth made a face. "Please don't."
He clapped hard before springing to his feet. "Huddle up boys, I've got a plan."
"God help us all." Jeff muttered.
(He huddled up anyway, any thoughts of playing guitar that night fully forgotten.)
Bonus:
"Why don't you just get high and watch a movie with Steve? You're a fucking cling-on when you're high." Gareth complained the next morning, when Eddie swung by to pick him up for school.
Mostly because the plan Eddie had come up with was ridiculous.
Eddie took both hands off the wheel, pressing them against his chest in mock offense while he stared at Gareth and not at the street. “That would be taking advantage of him and I, as a gentleman, would never." He gasped, dramatically.
In his normal voice, he added: "Plus it doesn't count."
“Eyes on the road!” Gareth yelped, swatting an arm. “And you know I didn’t mean it like that. People relax more when they're high and maybe Steve needs something like that as an excuse to allow it. Hell he doesn’t even need to be high, just you.”
Which Gareth personally thought was a very insightful thing to say, so of course he had to ruin it with; “or whatever.”
"Do you recall how you kissed Jeff on the cheek when you were high and then spent the entire next month swearing up and down that you weren't attracted to men last summer?"
"That was different. I was discovering myself."
Eddie outright cackled. "Discovering yourself? What self help book did you pick that gem out of?"
"I was quoting you, you moron!" Gareth sputtered.
"If I said anything like that then I was definitely high and it just proves my point. Steve would just be uncomfortable."Eddie stuck his tongue out. "So there."
"Fine." Gareth sighed. "If we ever get high with Harrington, I'll sit in his lap."
Eddie's eye twitched. "No you will not."
Thrilled to have something to tease the elder metalhead about, a smile graced Gareth's face. "In fact, I'm calling dibs."
"You can't call dibs on a lap! And besides, you don't even like him like that!"
"So?" Gareth retorted. "It's a nice lap, looks comfortable. You don't want it, so I'll take it."
Eddie grit his teeth, grasping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white.
"I know what you're doing Gary. This is some bullshit reverse psychology shit and I will not be falling for it."
"Oh contraire, this is sibling bullshit, Munson. You want it, so I want it." Gareth crossed his arms and looked at Eddie smugly. "And unless you do something about it, I'm getting it."
"I hate you."
Gareth grinned, delighted. "I know."
#Gareth @ 15: LOOK AT THESE LITERAL BABIES!#The Party @ 13: SCREW YOU GARY U NERD#Steve is a mom in my head but he definitely has older brother vibes.#Like he's on that 'You can do stupid shit but only if I supervise' phase lol#I don't ship Gareth with Jeff but I can see him picking Jeff over Eddie as the Bi Test Run.#Pre steddie#hellfire adopts Steve#adopt a jock#steve harrington#Eddie Munson#hellfire club#Steve harrington whump#Sad Boy Hours Steve#0o0 fanfics#gareth emerson#jeff#grant#Next part is Eddie Munsons Ridiculous Oneshot
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Eddie Munson x cheerleader! reader, Eds and Reader don't know each other, but Max and Dustin know both Eddie and Reader, and they both think that they would be a great couple so they try to get them to know each other but it never works. But what if Reader goes to the trailer park to take care of Max, or help her with homework but on her way to Max's trailer, Reader falls and Eddie sees it and helps her, after some time, Eddie and Reader start dating and it made Max and Dustin happy but they argue about who made that it happened? (I hope this make sense! I just imagine Max and Dustin seeing how similar Reader and Eddie are in some aspects so they're like, yeah, they would be a great couple, but for some reason, they can't make them like meet each other or even see each other! you can change some things if you think it'll be better!)
I love writing Max as a bestie. This idea is adorable. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting♥︎
Wingman vs Wingwoman
Max was surprised to find herself being friends with a cheerleader, granted it was forced in the beginning. Max's mom has been on an insane level since everything happened with Billy, so she refuses to let Max be alone. Y/N became Max's babysitter, Max wasn't warmed to the idea at first but now it was more of friends hanging out compared to babysitting.
Y/N was way more chill and interesting than the other cheerleaders, shocking Max. They talked, watched horror movies, shared comic books, and went to skate parks. With all of Y/N's badass interests, Max realized she might not be the only one who would adore her. Max knew she had to get Y/N to meet Eddie.
Dustin fell in love with Y/N the second she walked into the student council. Dustin's mom wanted him to engage in more school activities ( apparently hellfire wasn't real enough. ) But the student council wasn't horrible when Y/N was the president. Dustin was a love-sick puppy when it came to her and he practically was her vice president with how much he did for the club. Or for her. With her leading confidence and how high she held her head, Dustin couldn't help but see a bit of Eddie in her. That's when it snapped in Dustin's head that Eddie would love to meet this girl.
~~~
Max was rushing Y/N to Hellfire with a purpose in mind.
"I'm gonna be late for the student council!" Y/N groaned as Max dragged her arm down the opposite hallway.
"I know! I just need to show you something." Max said, a tiny smirk on her face. Her blue eyes lit up with mischief.
Max cheered as they reached the door, Y/N looked at her confused for two reasons. One, Max was excited about something, and two it was about a door with hellfire written on cardboard.
"What the hell is this?" Y/N asked, Max didn't answer, so she yanked open the door.
Max's smile and mood fell when she didn't see Eddie. Just the same losers she always saw.
"Where is he?" Max demanded, her foot stomped against the glossy floor.
~
"Dustin, dude, we can't be late for this campaign. The rest of the sheep are already set up." Eddie scolded but Dustin didn't listen. Just yanking Eddie down the hall.
"Just one minute!" Dustin groaned. He sighed at the lack of patience Eddie had.
"Where are we even going?" Eddie huffed.
"Tada!" Dustin cheered as he yanked open the wooden door. Eddie peeked in over Dustin's head and felt confused.
"Tada? It's a group of nerds talking about the school."
"It's called the student council, and she's not here!" Dustin growled. Where the hell was she?
~~~
Max and Dustin had no idea they were trying to get Y/N and Eddie to see each other. And they had no idea they were backfiring each other's plans.
"No! I need Eddie, I've been trying to get him to meet this girl for weeks!" Max snapped at Dustin, her icy blue eyes glaring straight at him.
Dustin felt himself shivering in fear but tried to stay confident.
"I don't care. I've got a way better girl for Eddie to meet."
"Mine's better, just watch." Max scoffed as she raced off on her skateboard.
"What did red want?" Eddie asked as he walked to his van.
"No clue. But look, I need you to drop me off at school early tomorrow, student council meeting." Dustin lied, Eddie huffed but agreed as he started the engine.
~
"Max, what's up? Dustin said he needed me this morning." Y/N asked as Max kept looking up and down the hallways.
"I just need to see something!" Max said as she looked into the parking lot. She saw Eddie's van but she couldn't find him at all. She checked all the rooms she knew Eddie knew but nothing.
~
"Dude, we've been here for ten minutes, when does this meeting start? We are the only ones here." Eddie sighed. He could have gotten another hour of sleep but this damn kid.
Dustin checked his watch with a pit of anxiety in his stomach. Y/N said she'd be here and she is nowhere to be seen.
"Whatever. I'm going to have a smoke." Eddie said as he walked out the door.
Not even two minutes later Y/N walked in with a grumpy Max.
"Of fucking course," Dustin said as he shook his head.
~~~
Max and Dustin were slowly wanting to give up. Every plan they had was backfired. Somehow Eddie and Y/N were always at the wrong place at the right time.
Y/N groaned as she walked through the muddy trailer park. She regretted wearing her nice shoes. A huge van came speeding down the road, frightening her into slipping in the mud.
She groaned as she landed on her ass. Now her clothes were as muddy as her shoes.
The van slammed on their breaks and a boy came running out.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry." The boy apologized, he kneeled next to her as he softly helped her stand up.
She went to scream in his face but once she took in his face, she was silent. He was the most gorgeous boy she's ever seen. His soft skin, bone structure, nice jaw, and flowing brown curls rested on his shoulders.
"Oh, that's alright." She shrugged off with a smile. She was sure she'd have fallen for him the same way if he still wasn't holding her up by the waist.
Eddie didn't hear a word she said. Too amazed at how beautiful the girl was. He didn't even realize he was still touching her until she shifted.
"Shit sorry." He apologized again as he removed his hands. He took in her muddy clothes.
"This will sound so creepy, but can I drive you to my trailer to get you new clothes? I feel awful." Eddie smiled as she laughed.
"It is super creepy, but I also don't want to babysit in these clothes." So she agreed and they rode off to his trailer. Only to connect the dots that Max was right across the way.
"Here! It's just an old shirt and some sweatpants." Eddie said as he handed Y/N the clothes.
"Do you want me to drive you to the trailer you need?" Eddie asked as they stood at his front door.
"It's actually just right there so I can walk. Thank you, what was your name?" She asked.
"Eddie Munson, and you?" He asked as he held out his hand.
~
Max eyed Y/N as she walked in covered in mud and clothes in her hand.
"What happened to you?" Max asked as she got off the couch.
"Slipped in mud, but I got new clothes so gonna change!" Y/N said she walked into the bathroom, with a smile on her face.
~~~
A month passed and Max was preparing to give up. No matter what she did, she never got Eddie and Y/N in the same room.
"Why can't you come tonight again?" Max asked, Y/N walked beside her down the hallway.
"I've got a date, but your mom is staying home," Y/N explained.
"Where is the date? I've got a guy for you and I bet he's way better than whatever loser you picked yourself."
"Rude, he is not a loser. I appreciate in a weird way that you want to set me up, but I'm fine. We are going to the movies."
~
"Dustin, I can't! I'm going to the movies for a date." Eddie sighed as he searched for an outfit to wear.
"Waste of time, bro. I've got the perfect girl for you. Just cancel, then come be my wingman at the diner then I'll set you guys up!" Dustin argued.
"First, I am way too old to be your wingman. It's creepy. And second, this girl is hot, I'm not ditching."
"Come on dude! You are my only ride and my mom said I needed a babysitter. Steve is working so please?"
~
"She's here, see ya," Dustin said as he ran to an empty booth with his date.
Eddie picked a seat where he could see the back of Dustin's head.
He smiled when Y/N took the seat across from him, blocking Dustin.
They dived into a conversation and the time flew by in seconds.
~
Dustin said goodbye to his date and walked over to Eddie, he noticed Eddie was alone.
"Stood up?" Dustin mocked as he pointed to the empty seat.
"Bathroom, now beat it," Eddie said, but Dustin sat down instead.
"I've got nowhere to go, you are my ride." Dustin shrugged, grabbing a fry from the plate in the middle of the table. "Plus, my girl would be so much better for you."
~
Max walked into the diner, and her mom drove her to pick up dinner. She waited near the counter as she waited. She gasped when Y/N walked out of the bathroom.
"What are you doing here? I thought you had a date?" Max asked, her arms crossed.
"I do! We changed it to her because he had to babysit." Y/N explained.
"Babysit? Can't get a real job?" Max mocked and rolled her eyes.
"Watch it. I'm a babysitter." Y/N declared as she glared at the younger girl.
"Is he still here? I want to meet him so I can prove my guy is better."
Y/N sighed but agreed, walking Max to the table.
"Dustin?"
"Y/N?"
Eddie looked between them confused, "you two know each other?"
"How the hell do you know her?" Dustin spazzed as he looked at Eddie with huge eyes.
"EDDIE IS THE GUY!" Max squealed, and Y/N was confused about her showing a positive emotion.
"What is going on?" Eddie and Y/N asked at the same time.
~
After Dustin and Max explained their sides, they left the couple alone. Dustin walked Max out to her car, killing time until Eddie was ready to leave.
"I so did that." Dustin bragged, he nodded in improvement as Eddie slid his arm around Y/N as they walked out.
"They didn't even know you were trying to set them up, plus she met him because of me!" Max argued
"No, she did not!" Dustin fought back.
"Yes huh!"
"No huh!"
~
"It's kinda cute they wanted us together so much," Y/N said, walking out of the diner.
"I'm surprised Dustin thought I was in your league." Eddie chuckled, his arm still over her shoulder.
"I'm surprised you'd even like a cheerleader," Y/N replied.
"When they look like you? Yeah, I like the cheerleader." Eddie teased, but his heart raced as she laughed and swatted at his chest.
He might have to give Dustin a praise for this.
tags!
@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson request#eddie munson fluff x reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x cheerleader#eddie munson x cheerleader!reader#ashwhowrites
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