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Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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cherry valley forever
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@bibibudin
FOLLOW ME ON MY NEW ACCOUNT!! @bibibudin666
I hate the fact that this account is a side blog so I decided to make it it's own separate account!! So if you're coming from any of my fics make sure to follow that account instead since I will be deactivating this one in the near future! Thank you Filthies~
we should both get super high and make out until one of us becomes desperate enough to pin the other to the ground and grind against each other until we cum in our pants.
or we could see a movie or something that’s cool too
I'd gladly do either or with this man FUCK-
Billy loves seeing you cry....
(18+ NO MINORS under the cut thanks~)
Follow me on my new account @bibibudin666
I plan on writing more Billy/Eddie/Steve content!!
Especially when you're filled with his cock. Tears streaming down your face, not able to form a single sentence while he stuffs you full. He's loving every minute of it too, faking a pout at your cries. The fake look of concern across his features as he asks if you're doing okay.
"S'too much." You whine back.
His pout turns into a smirk, not being able to hide his enjoyment for a second.
"You can handle it baby, not like you haven't before. Hmm?"
He thrusts harder after his response, causing you to arch your back and cry out. All he can do is chuckle to himself as he pushes your legs up to your chest, reaching deeper than before.
"C'mon take it, I know you can." His grip on your thighs tighten with every stroke.
#just a torso appreciation post
Eddie Munson x Alt!Fem!Reader
★Teaser ★My Masterlist
Summary: Eddie seeks Steve's assistance in wooing you, but it doesn’t go the way he planned.
Author's Note: This was so fun to write! I don’t think it turned out particularly angsty tbh. There's a little bit of Halloween in it, 'tis the season.
Proofread to an extent. 90s AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Reader is vaguely depicted: wears black, has tattoos and piercings (no amount or locations indicated for either), enjoys spooky movies, and likes metal music. Happy ending!
Word Count: 4.7k
Warnings: brief mention of alcohol consumption, includes more swearing than usual
The sun hangs low, blowing kisses of dusk through the streaky panes of Family Video. Inside the store, the sporadic popping of kernels sets the tone for the evening shift.
When it comes to this job, unboxing shipments of snacks is the one task that manages to hold Eddie’s fleeting attention, simply because it gives him an excuse to wield a box cutter. Alas, today is not one where a shipment has been delivered. He’s more or less getting paid to hang out and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Leaning beside the register, Eddie lazily flips through a dated issue of Rolling Stone magazine. He’s not even reading the articles, just skimming the pictures.
In the documentary section, Steve is busy restocking the shelves. “I heard Keith’s giving out a plaque for 'Least Productive Employee' this year. If ya ask me, I think you’ve got Robin beat.”
“That’s debatable,” Eddie licks the pad of his finger and flips the page. “You’ve got it handled, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but there’s plenty of stuff that needs to get done before we get slammed tonight.”
“I’m doing my part,” Eddie raises his head and a smirk slowly overtakes his bored expression. “Someone’s gotta keep the front counter company. It gets lonely.”
“Aw, how touching. Of all things, you’ve found true love with a piece of furniture,” Steve scoops up the bucket of go-backs and sidesteps to the neighboring genre. “That’s gotta be the closest thing you’ve ever had to a relationship.”
Burn, but an accurate one. Eddie isn’t a Casanova but there’s nothing wrong with that, not at all. He’s got his hobbies and friends, what point is there in trying to convince the town that he’s up for a little romance? Besides, the absence of encounters means that flirting isn’t in his wheelhouse.
Eddie looks down at the face of his Casio, reading that it’s nearing seven o’clock. “Hey, do we still have a copy of Beetlejuice around?”
“I doubt it. All of the spooky shit has been going like hotcakes since Halloween is right around the corner.”
As customers trickle through the door, Eddie shifts to the computer system and types hurriedly on the keyboard. “Fuck, it’s gotta be here,” He abandons the register and searches the store.
Steve opens a case and snaps it closed, entirely oblivious to the commotion until Eddie whizzes by in his peripheral vision. “Okay, this is a whole new level of obnoxious,” Steve huffs. “Why are you so hell-bent on finding that specific movie?”
“Because she’s probably gonna wanna rent it, and if we don’t have it…” Eddie trails off as he flies by on the other side of the store.
“Cool your jets, turbo,” Steve notices that more people are coming into the store so he waves Eddie over. The last thing they need is a lawsuit because an old lady got plowed down. “Seriously, what gives?”
Wheezing at the end of the aisle, Eddie hunches over and bows his head. He grips his knees for dear life while he tries to catch his breath. “There’s this girl.”
Steve’s feathered brows mirror the nosey tone of his voice. “Who is it? Do I know her?”
“I doubt it,” Eddie coughs. “But she stops in every Friday night.”
“News flash, butthead. It’s the busiest day of the week, that’s not exactly narrowing it down,” Steve feels a creeping presence over his shoulder. Speaking of old ladies; he peeks, just to find an elderly woman encroaching on his personal space to view the titles that he’s blocking. “Sorry,” he says halfheartedly before directing his coworker toward the register with a toss of his head. “Is it Tara P.?”
“Nope,” Eddie follows and plops on the stool furthest from the computer. “She wears a lot of black, has tattoos, piercings-”
Steve shakes his index finger. “Okay, yeah, I know who you’re talking about now. She’s always dressed for a funeral,” He snorts.
“I know, isn’t it hot?” Eddie sighs dreamily while he tugs at his green coil key ring, stretching it as far as it’ll go.
“I mean, if you’re into that kinda thing,” Steve shudders dramatically. “Gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
“I’m definitely into that,” Eddie gnaws on the soft pink flesh of his lips as he pauses. “There’s this aura around her, y’know? Not just her looks either, it’s her energy too.”
“Dark and brooding, huh? That’s what gets ya going?” Steve switches to his customer service voice as he checks out the elderly woman with minimal back and forth.
“Yeah, whenever she’s around my hands get all sweaty,” Eddie looks down at his large palms that are growing slick from discussing you. “She hangs out at the bar where I play. God, just seeing her makes my heart sing.”
He loses himself in thinking about seeing you at Wraith. You’re the only one that he strives to impress but he has yet to. You dance to other bands but not Eddie’s. Sometimes you nod your head to the beat, though it’s never enough for you to acknowledge his existence.
“Pass me a barf bag,” Steve gags. “Makes your heart sing?”
“Whatever, dude. It’s not like you’re gettin’ any action with your Harrington charm.”
“Excuse you,” Steve looks at Eddie pointedly. “I almost got that girl’s number on Monday, thank you very much. She was totally digging me.”
“Was she, though? ‘Cause she left without giving you her digits,” Eddie chuckles mockingly and tilts his head. “How many more times do you have to strike out before you finally throw in the towel?”
“That’s rich coming from the guy who canoodles furniture,” Steve scoffs. “Don’t come for my manhood. At least I have the balls to make a move.”
“So many moves, and yet, so few takers!” Eddie throws his head back and laughs boisterously.
“Put a sock in it,” Steve groans.
Speak of the devil. Eddie spots you walking into the store, just as you always do at this time. “Oh god,” He gulps and his joints lock, freezing time and space simultaneously. His mouth is slightly agape as the world comes to a standstill. His vision narrows to a tunnel, rendering him deaf and mute.
Steve snaps his fingers in front of Eddie’s face. “Jesus, man. Try to act somewhat normal,” he rolls his eyes. “If you even know how.”
Eddie does not know how especially not after being literally snapped out of his trance. His palms are clammy, his breathing is rigid, and he’s dizzy as all hell. “Look at her,” He whispers. Christ, you look so fucking pretty today.
“Are you trying to catch flies, dude?”
“No,” Eddie scowls, promptly tightening his lax jaw. “Fuck off.”
Steve takes notice of your figure moving down the aisle and turning in their direction. “Duun dun,” he begins to imitate the Jaws shark theme. “Duuun dun,” As you approach from the other end of the store, Steve gets progressively louder. “Dun dun dun dun dun-”
“Quit!” Eddie barks through gritted teeth and kicks Steve’s calf. “Don’t be an ass.”
“Ow, that was uncalled for,” Steve bends over to rub his leg in an attempt to soothe the ache.
“Jesus Christ! She’s coming over here,” Eddie paces in the cramped area, nearly colliding with Steve when he pivots. “What the fuck do I do? I don’t know how to be Mr. Cool Guy.”
With your chosen film in hand, you are in fact approaching the register. Steve’s voice becomes discernible as you get nearer. “...if you keep acting like such a wuss. Grow a pair and just-”
“Shut up! Shut it,” Eddie makes it appear as though he’s doing something productive to the snack display, but he’s really just shifting the packets of Skittles around.
“Just this,” you confirm by setting down the tape and digging into your purse. The atmosphere feels tense, to say the least. You’ve clearly interrupted something. It’s plain to see on the other employee’s tomato-red face.
Steve offers a straight-lipped smile and scans your membership card. “Find everything alright?”
You hum in response. While he carries on with the transaction, you notice how peculiarly still the other guy is. “Hello,” you greet him softly, hoping to ease the atmosphere.
Eddie’s hands come to a halt and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “Heh,” He meant to say “hey” but only the first letter made it out alive. As you pay for your purchase, his mouth is still moving and he doesn’t know why. “That’s a good one,” he gestures to the movie.
You startle inwardly, not having anticipated an actual conversation to start. He seems nice enough. “You’re a fan of scary movies too, I take it?”
Eddie nods timidly. He flexes his fingers to combat the overwhelming numbness that’s plaguing his hands. His heart is beating so goddamn hard that it’s on the verge of bursting through his chest and landing wetly at his feet. “Yeah, I like them. They’re good. Really good.”
“Agreed,” While you tuck your wallet away, a polite smile rests on your face. “I was actually in the mood for Beetlejuice but it doesn’t look like you have it,” Your smile falls ever so slightly.
The sight causes Eddie’s pounding heart to twist and plummet to his ass. He’d give you every copy on the planet if he could.
Steve listens in over the sound of your receipt printing. His brows arch in genuine surprise that Eddie knew you’d want that movie tonight. Creepy, but impressive nonetheless. “Sorry about that,” Steve tears the paper from the machine and hands it to you. “Maybe next time.”
“Maybe,” you nod, accept the receipt, and pick up the tape. “Have a good night,” you say to both of them and head out.
Once you’re through the doors, Eddie clutches Steve’s forearm to ground himself in reality.
“Ugh!” Steve yanks his arm away to escape the muggy grasp. “That’s gnarly, man.”
“Do you believe me now?” Eddie wipes his sopping palms on his jeans.
“Oh, I believe you, especially after witnessing that. I’m pretty sure Henderson has more game than you.”
Eddie returns to the stool with a plop. “Just kill me already,” he rubs his face, sighing. “Put me out of my fucking misery.”
“Don't threaten me with a good time,” Steve laughs to himself. “Anyway, back to Little Miss Dead Inside. What’ve you tried?”
“Nothing,” Eddie drops his hands and slouches in defeat. “I don’t think she even knows my name.”
“You gotta give her a reason to,” Steve continues conversing from over his shoulder while he checks out another customer. “What about notes? Y’know, old-fashioned love notes.”
Eddie scrunches his nose. “I dunno about that.”
“It’s right up your alley, Shakespeare. Besides, the ladies love melodramatic shit like that.”
Eddie suddenly perks up. “Wait, I could be totally anonymous! She could figure it out on her own. That way she comes to me and I don’t even have to approach her.”
“That’s not what I said at all.”
“This could totally work,” Eddie motions to Steve’s head. “Who woulda thought there’s a few marbles rollin’ around in there.”
“Ha-ha,” Steve continues to slowly but surely shorten the line. “Don’t think I’m helping you.”
“The hell you aren’t,” Eddie hops up on the counter beside the register. He swings his legs with newfound optimism and tears open a package of red vines. “You’re obligated to help since it’s your idea.”
“I absolutely am not, and I have no interest in being inadvertently bitten by some vampire chick. Leave me out of it.”
“C’mon, I’ll owe you big time,” Eddie begs with his mouth full of waxy candy.
“You have to clean the restroom for two weeks,” Steve declares with a smirk.
“No fucking shot,” Eddie points with a half-bitten licorice rope. “Pick something else.”
“Do you want help or not?”
Eddie did indeed want help, so he agreed to the bullshit terms and conditions. He can scrub a toilet, no problemo. Honestly, he’d polish a hundred of them with a toothbrush if that meant you’d step into his life. You’re worth cleaning toilets for.
After closing up shop for the night, Eddie sits at his desk in his bedroom until the early hours. He writes draft after draft, struggling to find words that are forward and inviting without coming on too strong right off the bat.
Upon your arrival the following week, Eddie is shaking like a leaf. He listens to your interaction with Steve while being partially concealed behind a tall cardboard cut-out. Despite not being able to see you, he can see your lips forming the words in his mind. Your voice alone is making him weak in the knees. Eddie’s certain that if you don’t hightail it out of here soon, they’ll buckle and his cover will be blown.
Once he’s certain you’ve left, Eddie releases the breath he’s been holding since you walked in. “How’d it go? She didn’t see you put the note in there, right?”
“Why are you even asking? You eavesdropped the whole time. Yeah, it went fine, she didn’t notice.” Steve grumbles.
“Okay, cool,” Eddie chews on his thumbnail. “Shit, what if she thinks it’s creepy? What if she thinks it’s the lamest thing ever? Fuck, what if-”
“Dude,” Steve closes his eyes and holds his hands out. “You’ve gotta stop.”
In the comfort of your home, you plop down in front of the VCR and open the case that holds the reels of this evening’s entertainment; a movie you’ve rented a few times before, but not enough that you could quote it. Instead of a hard plastic shell, your fingertips find wrinkled notebook paper. Your brows furrow as you inspect it, shredded pieces dangling from where it was yanked from the spiral binding.
You unfold it three times.
In the aisles of the video store, I've found a treasure unsurpassed. Not on the shelves, but in your eyes, I fell so fast.
It’s a prank, whatever the fuck this is.
Never in your life have you ever thought about Steve, like, at all. You’re aware of his reputation, that he apparently has the tendency to be douchey and arrogant. But the more you think about it, he’s nothing like that when you interact at Family Video. Maybe he’s not that judgmental and he sees past your midnight exterior. This note is stupidly genuine and endearing. Who would’ve thought he had it in him? Certainly not you.
That’s the thing, though. Steve isn’t your type and you’re certainly not his. But you can’t recall a time when he’s ever looked at you like you’re some kind of freak. Most guys do, that’s something you’ve grown used to over the years and learned to ignore. This poem basks him in a new light, and you’re not quite sure how to process it.
Like clockwork, you’re back again but this time your chest is thrumming. The note could’ve been a fluke or maybe it was meant for someone else, you’re not entirely sure. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to be the intended recipient. Right now, it would be ideal to appear composed but you’re already wearing an unusual expression—a pleasant one—while you make your way to the drama section.
Tonight, it’s Robin and Eddie holding down the fort. As your combat boots scuff across the forest-colored carpet, Eddie can feel your arrival in his bones. He’s immediately seeking you out and when he locates you, he just about faints. Admiring from afar while manning the register, his mind races. Kissing is what’s on the curiosity menu tonight. Eddie wonders what flavor of toothpaste you prefer. If he could just get a little taste…
You meander your way around the shelving and through the dotting of customers. Eddie snaps his head in the opposite direction to avoid being caught staring. The sudden motion causes a pinch in his neck and he winces.
Lost in his own little world for a minute or two, Eddie’s attention is violently brought forward when you place a tape down in front of him. He buffers, noticing how you look subtly disappointed all of a sudden. He can’t imagine why, but he hates it with every cell in his body. Eddie fails to greet you and instead, he stares at your wine-painted fingernails as they tap the surface of the case.
“Is he not here?” You glance around with a lack of determination.
“Steve? Er, no. He called in sick,” He clears his throat harshly, all of the moisture drying up in his mouth by the millisecond.
“Oh, okay,” Over your other shoulder, you admire the new promotional display that was put out during the week.
Eddie seizes the opportunity to slip the second note into the case. His hands viscously tremble despite his best efforts to steady them. “Not to worry though, I can check you out way better than that walking hairdo,” Stop while you’re ahead, man. “Ring you up, I mean. I can ring you up better… than him.” Jesus fucking Christ.
“You’ve got quite the mane yourself,” A smile blooms as you look into the chocolate pools he has for irises. “I like your curls,” You can’t help but softly giggle at how bug-eyed he goes at your compliment.
“Uh, thanks,” Eddie bites back the cheek-splitter of a smile threatening to form. His trembling hands tingle unbearably from being able to make you laugh, despite not knowing what he did to earn it. He grabs a packet of M&Ms from the rack and slides it across the counter to you. “Here, free of charge.”
Your tightly sewn brow is accompanied by a slight pout. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Nonsense,” Eddie insists. “Everything’s on the house.”
“Is this some loyalty reward thing you guys do now?”
“Right on the money,” Eddie winks.
“Sweet,” you chirp. It’s as though your spirit has been replenished by saving a few bucks. “Do I get one of those little punch cards? I love those things.”
With the way your eyes are shimmering over a stupid piece of paper; Eddie would build you a house made of punch cards if that’s what you wanted. “Yeah,” he searches aimlessly. “But, uh, we haven’t gotten them yet.”
Your gaze finds his name tag and then returns to his flushed face. The corner of your mouth quirks as you notice the faint freckles dotted across his cheeks and nose. “Okay, well, thank you, Eddie.”
“No need to thank me, I should be thanking you! You’re a valued customer,” he exclaims. “My favorite of them all!”
“If you say so,” you exhale with amusement and turn to leave. “See you around.”
Eddie holds his palm open as a farewell gesture until you’re out of sight. He then brings his hand directly to his forehead in a ruthless smack. “You’re my favorite customer,” He mocks himself in a nasally voice.
With the press of a button, the register drawer launches open with a thunk. He nonchalantly retrieves his wallet, plucks out a five-dollar bill, and tucks it under the stainless steel clip to pay for your “free” movie and candy. Eddie finds Robin staring at him with a knowing look on her face. “Not a fucking word, Buckley. Not a word,” he glares, to which she throws her hands up in defense.
You couldn’t possibly wait until you got home to see if there would be another note. As you hop into the driver's seat of your car in the parking lot, you find an identical piece of folded paper. Your heart pitter-patters with the assumption that Eddie is in on it and he did Steve the favor of delivering this one for him.
With your illuminating smile, Baby Ghoul, you're the moonlight in my darkest night.
This note takes you by surprise for a different reason. It feels far more personal to be bestowed with the cutest goddamn nickname you’ve ever been given; ghouls are so metal. You obsessively reread it through the duration of your movie, while you brush your teeth, and as you lay in bed. You’re swooning over each messily penned letter, memorizing the spots where the ink drags and smudges.
It’s a bit difficult to imagine Steve saying this to you, but your insides are lurching at the thought. You hold the note to your chest and squeal.
The following visits are heavenly. Eddie loves seeing you bounce around on the balls of your feet like you’re on cloud nine. It’s becoming damn near impossible to fight the urge to smile because he knows that you’re looking forward to his imminent written affection.
Note after note, confidence simmers in his belly from seeing how the expression of his feelings is affecting you. To know that he’s the reason you’re glowing like this is turning his brain to pudding. Not tapioca, though. Ew.
With wide puppy dog eyes and a glossy lower lip, you present your past-due rental to Steve. He sucks his teeth, crosses his arms, and scolds you playfully. You successfully get out of paying the fee by simply batting your lashes at him.
Steve is eating this shit up. While you might not be his flavor of choice, he’s suddenly feeling open to sampling the femme fatale vibe. You’re beautiful, he wouldn’t waste his breath denying that. Not to mention, you’ve got a great sense of humor, considering you’re laughing at his awful jokes. That’s something he will admit—they’re bad.
Eddie doesn’t have to hear the conversation to know what’s unfolding. He feels like he’s gonna hurl when Steve leans down to shorten the distance between the two of you. He's supposed to be the middleman, not stealing Eddie’s thunder. In hindsight, there haven’t been any hints at his identity and Eddie’s been too chicken shit to give them to you except for the other day when he had no choice.
To put it simply, he’s torn. Eddie wants to scream that he’s your admirer, that he’s the one who dreams of you, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He can’t possibly reveal that it isn’t dashing Harrington who’s pining for you, but instead, it’s the dork. That would be a world-crushing level of disappointment.
This deal turned out to be a massive ego boost for Steve. The conversation is easygoing and it quickly progresses past small talk. The best part is that you haven’t even mentioned the notes. You think he’s some poet when in reality, he doesn’t even have a clue of what they say. You’re smitten without him having to bend over backward to impress you. He’d be nuts not to take advantage of it.
During closing time, Eddie stomps around while collecting the flimsy trash bags full of receipts and candy wrappers. For the past hour, he’s been pondering ways to “take care” of Steve. Sadly, it would be tricky to avoid raising suspicion if he suddenly disappeared, but hey, a guy can dream.
After dishing the silent treatment all night, Eddie finally speaks up. “You think you’re pretty clever, huh?”
“What?” Steve briefly looks up from counting the cash drawer.
“Cut the crap. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Eddie drags a clunky vacuum out of the cramped utility closet and unwraps the lengthy cord.
“It’s not that serious. Look, it’s not my fault that she’s into me.”
“Is all that hairspray finally soaking into your brain? She’s not into you,” Eddie growls, throwing the canary-colored cord to the carpet. “She likes the person who’s writing to her. Last I checked, that’s me.”
“Yeah, but she thinks it’s me,” Steve shrugs. “She’s happy, I’m happy. I don’t see a problem here.”
“The problem is that you know how I feel about her,” Eddie retorts while staring daggers. “The shit you’re pulling is really fucking unfair.”
“Life’s not fair, buddy. It’s not like you’re gonna do anything about it.”
“We’ll see about that,” Eddie mutters, clenching his jaw as he turns around to plug in the vacuum.
“Will we?” Steve snickers. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.”
It’s Saturday night and Eddie’s praying to every conceivable higher power that you’ll be here. You don’t come to Wraith every weekend, but when you do show, he’s nothing short of a nervous wreck.
He peeks out from behind the velvety black curtain of the concrete stage. Eddie’s heart stops when he finds you in your usual booth. You look hot, so so hot. It’s already hard enough to perform in front of you but when you look like this? Oh, brother.
Every year, you look forward to coming here on Halloween. Your friends have gone all out with their costumes and the hours you spent getting ready were well worth it. The typical dark and dingy ambiance is heightened by the plastic skulls and bones strung from the ceiling. Your drinks emit wisps of dry ice fog and each table has a bowl of candy.
Seated at the end of the booth, your eyes drift from your drink to the floor. There you find a pair of dirty white Reeboks. Your gaze travels up the lanky figure shrouded in navy coveralls.
Eddie twists his ring around the base of his finger and the glide is effortless, thanks to the premature perspiration. “Hey.”
“Uh, hi,” your expression reflects a mix of hesitance and confusion, though you maintain a kind demeanor. “Eddie, right?”
“Yeah,” She remembered my name. Eddie motions to your getup. “I like your costume. Elvira, right?”
While you may not be sporting a ceiling-high black wig, your costume is unmistakable. “Right on the money,” you flash a pert grin, quoting him from the other day. “And you’re a…”
“Supposed to be Michael Meyers,” he clarifies, pulling a plastic knife from his oversized back pocket. “The mask was too hot to wear so, I guess I’m a killer repairman?” Max’s borrowed mask was indeed suffocating.
“Or a plumber who secretly dreams of being a professional chef,” you shrug, your irises glistening with humor.
Okay, so far so good. Talking to himself in the mirror for an hour is really paying off because he’s not a bumbling idiot for once. He could be imagining things, but it looks like you’re leaning closer. Maybe you’re just trying to hear him better over the music. He shouldn’t be overanalyzing your body language but it's the only thing keeping him vertical.
Eddie wants to prove Steve wrong but most of all, he wants to tell you how incredible you are. He’s not sure that you’ll want to talk to him after this. You might be hurt when you realize that you’ve been misled and he’s not the one you want. There’s only one way to find out.
The sound of his band getting set up beckons him. “Show time,” Eddie shakes jazz hands with the toy knife still in his grip. Of course, he just had to make it weird.
While he’s playing through the usual set with Corroded Coffin, you don’t pay them any mind, per usual. Their final song is a new one. Eddie may lack the confidence to confess, but he’s gonna sing this with all of the moxy he’s got.
In this world of shadows, what else is there to do
Wanna explore life’s cemetery with you
Your haunting beauty tells no lie
The one thing I cannot defy
The familiarity of the lyrics floods your head. You look up and find his dark, gleaming eyes locked onto you. Your heart leaps in your throat as he repeats the verses. Eddie leaves no room for uncertainty, confirming that the lyrics are pulled from the notes you’ve received. The tone of his voice is raw and passionate as he sends his affection across the room.
As soon as he steps off stage, you’re on a mission to find him. He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to find you beaming at him. Eddie finally allows himself to do the same, all the while blushing with exhaustion and anticipation.
“Hey, again,” you stare down at your shoes and scuff them against the floor. “You sounded great up there.”
“Yeah?” he swallows hard. “You liked it?”
Your eyes snap back up to his. “All of it, every single word.”
“I’ve got like half a notebook’s worth of stuff like that,” Eddie chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Is that weird?”
“Far from it,” you tilt your head toward the bar. “I’d love to hear what else you’ve got to say.”
Eddie hovers his hand over the small of your back to guide you through the crowd. “I’ll sweet talk you until the sun comes up, Baby Ghoul. Anything for you.”
Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡
Consider reading From Bar to Billboard, I worked really fucking hard on it 🖤
★My Masterlist
★Tip Jar
tags:@nj01@tlclick73
GOD I LOVE WHEN THE READER IS ALT TOO FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK-
Dreaming of You
Summary: Plagued by graphic dreams about the Munson boy, you decided to see if he can make them come true.
Word count: 10.3k
What to expect: Virgin!Eddie Munson. Smut/Lemon. (-18 kindly dni)
A/N: This was supposed to be something short, hot, and fun, but somehow turned into a therapy session. So this is for all my girlies who have suffered bad sex, been robbed of their O's, and made to feel like pleasing them was too much work. I’m very much a long fic kind of gal, so this is a bit of a different speed for me. Let me know if you enjoyed it!
Yes, that is a Selena song title.
It started with a dream where Eddie The Freak Munson made an appearance. You knew who he was. Everyone did. But you never paid him more than a glance or two until your unconscious mind conjured up a peculiar image of his face buried between your legs on top of O’Donell’s desk. At first you couldn’t quite place who it was until he withdrew from you. Even in sleep, you were lucid enough to be shocked that the freak was the one to turn your legs to jelly. He interrupted your thoughts by commanding you to roll on your belly and stick your ass in the air so he could fuck you full right in the middle of the empty math classroom.
After waking up with a sticky situation to remedy, you started to pay more attention to him. Eddie Munson was no longer a loud extra in the backdrop of your day to day life.
Now that he was on your radar, you could spot him anywhere. He towered over almost everyone. Was he always so tall? And kind of built in a scrappy sort of way? You saw him without his jacket once and had the sudden urge to just run your hands up his shirt and feel his lithe abdomen. Maybe even lightly scrape your nails down it just to see the red marks left behind.
Your ogling led to the discovery that he had really nice hands. Even if they were covered with an excessive amount of silver rings that directed the reflection of sunlight from the window into your eyes if you looked his way too long. You wondered if the cheap faux silver turned his thick fingers green, but then forgot to care once you started to wonder what else those fingers could do--if the stretch of them would feel just as good as you dreamt.
You also noticed that he stuck his tongue out a lot. It was like he knew what you dreamt about and was intentionally tormenting you. When he was antagonizing Jason in the cafeteria, you nearly fainted at the sight—tongue so long it nearly reached the bottom of his chin. It didn’t take long for you to imagine yourself sitting on his face, writhing on the wet, flat muscle and thinking about how his nose would probably bump in just the right spot. How you’d love to thread your fingers through the hair at the crown of his head and--
A curiosity soon turned into an obsession. Morning, noon, and night your thoughts were flooded with the boy in the leather jacket. You couldn’t escape him even in your dreams.
You had to have him.
Many hours of the school day were dedicated to coming up with a plan on how to get his attention, but it was more difficult than you hoped. He was always surrounded by people and looked as if he were in the middle of a tirade, which judging by his outburst in the cafeteria—he probably was. Waiting for him to be isolated wasn’t yielding any results, but the thought of going up to him when he was in a group of boys who looked less than welcoming wasn’t what you wanted either.
There was a possibility that Eddie would laugh at you. Turn you into a spectacle and belittle you for asking him out. He was loud, opinionated, boisterous, and quite abrasive if the wrong person approached him. You hoped he wouldn’t do that to you, but you didn’t know him well enough to say for sure.
But then he appeared in another dream that caused a yearning so severe that you decided to risk it all.
He was easy to find in the parking lot after school. As usual, he had some of his friends orbiting around him, though it only seemed to be a few of the younger ones that looked less intimidating than his normal posse. Taking a deep breath to gather your wits, you approached Eddie Munson.
Or at least tried to. The Super senior paid you no mind as you stood beside him. He continued to address the small ring in front of him, not noticing that they were staring at you with open mouths and wide eyes instead of listening to him.
“--You can beg all you like, Wheeler, but the answer is no. Why don’t you ask your buddy ol pal Harrington to get it--what are you all looking at?” Eddie turned to follow their gaze. His face shifted from mild annoyance to confusion as he stared at you.
Losing a bit of your nerve at the way his brown eyes bore into you, you faltered. “H-hey, Eddie.”
His brow furrowed in further uncertainty. “Hi?”
You couldn’t blame him for being uneasy at your sudden attempt at contact, having ignored him for the years you’d been in school together. But it made you second guess yourself all the same. Perhaps the Eddie in your dreams should be the one you focused on.
The thought of Dream Eddie brought on a searing heat that warned your neck and face. If there was even a chance that Eddie in the real world could have the same effect on you that Dream Eddie did, you had to go for it.
Regaining your confidence, you put on a sly smile. “Are you busy tonight?”
Eddie narrowed his eyes at you and tilted his head. “Why?”
Feigning innocence, you shrugged meekly. “Why don’t you invite me over and find out.”
After a few more beats of confusion, something seemed to click in Eddie’s brain as you visibly watched his suspicion turn to understanding. He nodded and snapped his fingers before pointing it at you like a gun. “Right. Forest Hills at nine o’clock?”
All the tension you were carrying in your shoulders melted away. Smiling brightly, you agreed.
——
Nine o’clock seemed to take forever. You spent the time at home pulling out all the stops to make sure that you were ready and presentable. Using the best smelling shampoo and body wash, taking the time to contort in the tub for optimal body hair removal—no matter how much you hated shaving—teeth and tongue scraped to gleam, perfumed body lotion, the only lacy set of bra and panties you owned, and just a small amount of makeup to keep everything smooth.
It had been a while since you had sex, giving up on high school boys completely. The few experiences you had were less than satisfactory, so you decided that getting yourself off was much less of a hassle than dealing with the idiots at school.
Like many of the girls at Hawkins high, you had given your virginity to Steve Harrington. He was sweet, gentle, and took his time opening you up with his fingers before pushing in to you. It was arguably the best night of your life. An orgasm that was provided by someone other than yourself, the giggling, nose kisses, and night full of whispers made you think you were right to choose Steve for your first time. However, as soon as the sun came up, he forgot all about you and moved on to his next conquest.
Things only went downhill from there.
You could feel bile rising in your throat from remembering the way Tommy H flopped around on top of you like he was having a seizure. With all his talk about how great he was in the sack, you were severely disappointed. You couldn’t wait for it to be over with so you could go home and take care of yourself properly. Thankfully, in less than three minutes your prayer was answered.
Then there was Billy Hargrove. He knew how to use his cock, but he was a selfish lover. He didn’t take the time to make sure you were satisfied, and once he was done, that was it. You were to shut up and leave. He made you cum on occasion, but it turned into a bizarre fight because you didn’t ask his permission to do so. You weren’t desperate enough to beg for anything, and for Billy to expect you to beg him to cum when you could achieve it without him…well. Let’s just say you didn’t go back when he brought it up again.
Steve was great but used you. Tommy was terrible and had bad breath. Billy was capable of satisfying you but chose not to. You hoped Eddie would be different.
In your dreams, his attitude varied. Sometimes it was hot and rough, other times it was slow and sensual, and sometimes it was just him worshiping you with words.
As much as you wanted that to be the truth, you were afraid that Eddie in the flesh would disappoint you. Just like the others.
But you tried not to think about it. Instead, you focused on recreating the images your imagination conjured up both in sleep and waking hours. Recalling the way his lips felt on yours. The sting of your scalp when he pulled your hair. The sweet words he’d coo after he made you see stars.
The permanent ache in your belly only intensified the longer you dwelled on your past visions. Before you were even at his place your body was scorching from the inside out, cunt drenched and throbbing, and breathing erratic.
Arousal quickly faded into nervousness as you parked your car next to the familiar van, but you tried to bully it back by taking a few calming breaths before going for gold and knocking on the door.
All that could be heard from the other side was various banging and swearing before the door launched open to reveal Eddie looking quite frazzled.
He held up a few crushed beer cans in his hand and gave a weak smile. “Sorry. Was trying to clean up a bit. Maid took the week off.”
You gave him a small smile. “That’s okay. Can I come in?”
Eddie moved out of the way and bowed low at the waist. “Of course. Castle Munson is yours.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at that display as you walked past him. You’d seen him bow his head to girls at school who either ignored his existence completely or scowled at him, but to be on the receiving end of his chivalry was cute.
His castle was anything but. The trailer was small, very cluttered, and was certainly the home to chain smokers as every countertop had a full ashtray on it. Still, it was oddly comforting with the soft glow of the living room lamp, the rows and rows of mugs lining the walls and the collection of baseball caps to compliment them.
You followed him into the tiny kitchen area. “Do you live here alone?” you asked curiously, taking a closer look at the Garfield mug on the counter.
“Uh--no,” Eddie answered, stuffing his hand in the full trash can to stop the pile from overflowing. “My uncle lives here too but he works overnight at the plant.”
Your heart soared at the idea of having the place to yourself for the evening. “So no one will be home tonight?”
“Nope,” he answered, turning his attention to the fridge. “Can I get you a water? Or beer? I think I have some Kool-aid in here if you want that.”
You shook your head, forgetting he couldn’t see you with his face in the depths of the fridge. Perhaps beer would be a good idea to calm your nerves a bit, but then again, you didn’t want to have horrid breath for this.
“No. I’m okay, thanks.”
“Right,” Eddie mumbled. He withdrew from the fridge and clapped his hands together. “So. What can I get you? I’m out of shrooms, but I have a couple of tabs and some weed.”
“Huh?” you questioned, staring at him with confusion.
Eddie looked equally unsure. “That’s what you’re here for, right? Weed?”
You clenched your eyes shut when you realized what he meant. He didn’t exactly pick up what you were putting down earlier.
Maybe it would be better to accept a beer and a joint. Perhaps get to know him better before pouncing on him like a lioness in heat. But the yearning in the core of your belly wasn’t willing to wait.
“Um, no,” you answered awkwardly. You let out a sharp exhale before looking at him again. “I’m here for you.”
He raised his brows. “Me?”
Was there a way to convey this without sounding like a whore? How were you supposed to tell him you wanted to fuck when clearly the thought never crossed his mind?
You supposed you could show him. You took a few steps to close the distance between you, inhaling the scent of him. True, the smell of cigarettes and weed clung to him, but so did the aroma of Old Spice, cologne, and something you could only describe as man. And boy was it intoxicating in the most alluring way to breathe in.
You placed your hands on his leather clad biceps--which were almost heaven to finally touch after weeks of staring--and stood atop the tips of your toes to whisper in his ear. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
Grabbing you by the elbows, he gently pushed you back far enough to be able to look at you.
“Hey, if you don’t have any money, it’s fine. I can just smoke you out,” he frowned. “You don’t have to do any of that.”
No wonder it took him three tries to pass senior year. The guy was really dense. What was it going to take for him to realize you were here to get your back blown out?
Huffing with mild irritation, you leaned away from him and seized the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it carelessly elsewhere.
Eddie’s brown eyes nearly bulged out of his skull as they stared at your lace covered tits. If you weren’t so turned on, you would have laughed at the way his mouth hung open--face frozen in shock. It didn’t even look like he was blinking. Or even breathing for that matter.
“I told you. I came here for you.”
Taking his stunned silence as an opportunity, you crowded his space once again and finally got to live out one of your fantasies: pushing your hands beneath his shirt and feeling the muscles of his abdomen. There were some there, but there was also a little bit of pudge too right at his navel. Lightly gliding your hands upward towards his chest, you leaned to place a small kiss on the side of his throat.
“I’ve had dreams about you,” you said in the best seductive tone you could muster, placing another kiss just a few inches higher on his neck.
His Adam's apple bobbed beneath your lips. “Hua-uhh,” Eddie stammered. “What kind of dreams?”
You smiled to yourself at the crack in his voice. “Oh, I think you know what kind.” You pressed your body flush against his, relishing in the warmth of him and internally cheering at the stiff bulge pressed against your stomach.
Eddie chuckled nervously, his voice much higher than before. “Y-yeah I think I have an idea. Wha--” he cleared his throat in an effort to return his tone to a normal octave. “What happens in them?”
You slid your hands towards his belt loops, hooking your fingers in them and steering him the short way to the couch as you answered. “Which one do you wanna know about? There’s been quite a few. I could tell you about them or—“ you gently pushed off Eddie’s leather jacket from his shoulders, letting it fall before nudging him down onto the lumpy couch. “—I could show you.”
All the air in Eddie’s lungs came out in a huff when he collapsed onto the sofa. Wide eyed he asked, “Is this—is this really happening?”
Taking your time to settle on your knees between his legs, you outlined the tattoo on his forearm, having never noticed it there before. Eddie Munson just became ten times hotter.
“Really happening,” you smirked.
Eddie was nearly panting through his wide open mouth as he watched you undo his belt, button and zipper. The quiet gasps of “h-oh shit” that escaped him only made your confidence grow.
“Cute,” you teased, snapping the elastic waistband of his navy bullfrog boxers.
He may have said something about how they were his lucky pair, but you weren’t listening. The anatomy beneath them was what you were here for, and you couldn’t wait to see it. Wasting not another second, you instructed Eddie to lift his hips and yanked the heavy black denim and boxers to his knees.
Cock slapping against his belly, sticky drops dribbled from the head. Your mouth watered at the sight of it twitching against him in anticipation. It was all you could have hoped for. Thick, long, curved just a little to the right, and with a glistening pink tip—Eddie’s cock was gorgeous.
“Good for you, Munson,” you praised mischievously. It took no time wrapping your hand around the length of him. Heavy, silky smooth, and hot, you gave into the urge and licked a pressured stripe on the underside of his shaft, tracing the protruding vein.
The strangled chortle that emitted from the back of Eddie’s throat only fueled your desire. You could feel your own arousal pooling, more than likely already seeping through the thin fabric of your underwear with how worked up you made yourself earlier. Lifting yourself higher on your knees, you licked the slick slit and relished the salty taste of him before enveloping the entirety of the head with your lips.
Maybe it was weird to be so turned on when giving a blowjob—other girls talked about it like it was a chore and you hated having to do it to Billy. But feeling Eddie’s hairy thighs tremble under your palms, seeing his chest heave as breathy whimpers escaped him, watching his mouth hang open in disbelief with his cheeks sporting a ruddy complexion was enough to make your cunt throb.
Hollowing your cheeks, you lowered your mouth as far as you could without gagging, and pulled back up again to swirl your tongue around the mushroom tip with your fist following close behind.
Eddie huffed and puffed, trying to stutter out half syllables as he writhed in your grasp. Unsure of what to do with his hands, his fingers flexed against the cushions beneath them. He struggled to keep his eyes open—dark lashes fluttering against his pink cheeks with every stroke.
God he was beautiful like this. Why you never thought of him before was a true mystery. Lips pink and plump, strong nose, and eyelashes so long you’d kill for them. Now that you’d seen him blissed out from something you were doing for him—to him—you couldn’t imagine ever going back to ignoring him.
Drunk from the power you clearly had over him and determined to make a lasting impression so this could happen again, you bobbed your head lower and lower, relishing in the smooth glide of his cock against your tongue, opening the back of your throat to accommodate him until you were close enough to bury your nose against the thick dark curls at the base of him.
But Eddie was finally able to gasp out a single word. “S-Stop!”
All the confidence drained from you when you peered at him through your lashes. Eddie panted heavily with his brown eyes wide and glossy, looking as if her were about to cry.
Pulling off of him with a wet pop, you frowned with his dick twitching against your chin. “Is it not good—?”
He quickly shook his head. “Too good. So good I’m gonna bust in two seconds if you don’t slow down,” he answered breathlessly. “Or if you keep looking at me like that. Jesus Christ.”
Your frown deepened at his words. Too busy worrying about your pleasure from devouring him, you didn’t give much thought about what he wanted from this, thinking getting blown was reward enough in itself.
Embarrassed by your selfishness, you decided to make it right.
Ignoring the popping in your knees, you lifted yourself from the carpet to straddle Eddie’s lap, taking extra care to press your clothed core right against his aching cock.
Up close like this you were able to admire his features. Trace his bottom lip with your thumb, the curve of his scratchy jaw. Memorize the pattern of light freckles dusting the bridge of his nose. You outlined that too with the pass of your fingertips, along with the ridge of his deep set Cupid’s bow.
“Sorry,” you said softly, gently swiping the curtain of black bangs to expose his pale forehead.
Eddie blinked. “Huh?”
“For being greedy,” you answered simply.
He chuckled weakly. The corner of his lip ticked in a sideways grin, allowing for a dimple to dent his cheek as you caressed it. “Promise it’s alright, Sweetheart. Just want it to last longer than ten seconds.”
You slowly rocked your hips, letting the sopping cotton of your underwear drag against the hard length pressing so deliciously against you. A sigh rushed out of his parted lips when you moved his hands from the couch cushions and slid them up your body until they rested against the curve of your lace covered breasts.
The audible gulp emitting from his throat made you giggle, but it quickly faded into silence when he kept his hands still. No kneading, squeezing, or massaging. You ceased the roll of your hips.
“You can touch me if you want,” you offered.
Eddie stared at his unmoving hands and licked his lips before his eyes flickered up to yours. “Can I kiss you?”
It was your turn to gape at him. It hadn’t occurred to you that you hadn’t even kissed him during your lust fueled frenzy. Granting permission with a wordless nod of your head, letting him initiate just as he asked.
From your observations of Eddie over the last few weeks, timid is not the word you would use to describe him. However, as his lips gently pressed against yours, that’s all you could think of.
The kiss wasn’t bad, it was just…slow. Gentle. Timid. He made no effort to deepen it--deciding that a few chicken pecks were satisfactory. Eddie also kept his hands frozen on your chest, much to your displeasure.
Trying to relay the urgency of your desire, you took over. Crashing your lips against his, you tried to set the pace. But Eddie couldn’t keep up. He was clumsy, had a little too much spit, and nearly jumped out of his skin when you slid the tip of your tongue against his.
Frustrated, you pulled away from him.
“Are you okay?” you snapped.
Eddie nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you okay?”
You didn’t want to crush his spirit and say it was disappointing, but you also wanted more. “You’re just--you’re acting like you’ve never done this before.”
His cheeks deepened into a harsh maroon. “I haven’t.”
Your hands dropped from his face as you stared at him incredulously. “Haven’t what?”
“This!” Eddie shrieked with frustration. He removed his hands from your tits to pull his boxers over his exposed dick. “I haven’t had a chick dream about me! Or storm into my house with her tits out! Or blow me! Or even--”
The realization hit you like a bag of bricks. Shocked, you blurted, “Oh, my god. You’re a virgin.”
Eddie seized his speech mid rant--mouth snapping shut like a gator’s.
This couldn’t be. Eddie? Eddie Munson? He’d been in high school forever and he never had a girlfriend? Not once? The guy who was like nineteen or twenty? Old enough to go to bars and clubs and--didn’t he play in a band? No girls hung around after the show to try and sleep with the band? Especially now that you’ve seen what he was hiding in those tight black jeans of his.
“How?” you gasped, completely by accident.
Frustrated and embarrassed, Eddie snapped. “It just never happened, okay? No one wants to fuck the freak! Except you, I guess,” he added hastily. “But I think I just ruined that.”
True, you never saw a girl hanging around Eddie at school, but you thought it was just because he was into girls outside of the high school scope. His own age, from bars, from people he knew from earlier years at Hawkins High. With how Eddie carried himself--so sure and in your face--the thought didn’t occur to you that he’d never done anything before.
Your shoulders sagged as the full weight of disappointment sank in. If Eddie was a virgin, he wouldn’t have any idea on how to give you what you wanted. Weeks of dreaming about him were just that--The opposite of reality. Fantasies. Falsehood. The type of rush and satisfaction you got from your dreams would not be received here today, and that was almost devastating. Despite his ignorance of the female body, he probably didn’t want you--someone who barely spoke to him before today--to be the one to champion his first time.
You also felt stupid. So fucking stupid for having built up this guy in your head, only to be so very wrong about him. For as big and bad as Eddie Munson tried to make himself, he was currently the epitome of one of Madonna’s greatest hits.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie grumbled bitterly. “Trust me, no one is more disappointed than I am about it.”
Swallowing harshly, you nodded and tried to smile the ache away. “It’s okay. I’m just surprised. But um--I should probably get going--”
Eddie’s face fell into panic. “No!” he shouted loudly, making you jump at the volume. “I mean--you don’t have to go. We can still do whatever you want. If you want.”
Did you still want to? There was the matter of the soreness in your belly that would only get worse the longer you were left unsatisfied, but you didn’t really have the patience for Eddie to try and figure out how to touch you.
You tried to play it off politely. “Don’t you want your first time to be with someone you care about? I wouldn’t want to take that from--”
“Take it!” Eddie interrupted. “Swear, you’ll be making both of our dreams come true.”
It was difficult to argue with that. You were already here with nothing else to do. And after the hell you went through to make yourself presentable for him? You deserved at least something. The image you curated of him was already shattered to bits. Could any further harm be done at this point?
Eddie took the silence of your deliberation as an opportunity to plead his case. Sliding his large hands up your back, he leaned forward to plant a kiss on your collarbone.
“You could teach me,” he said softly before moving his mouth to attend to the curve of your breast. “Show me what you like.”
Now there was an idea. None of the guys you had been with before were virgins, but they also weren’t very knowledgeable on what it took to please you. With Eddie not having any prior experience, it would be easier to get him to do what you needed so you could both enjoy it, instead of him getting off and you having to take care of yourself after anyway.
Twisting your arm behind your back, you unhooked your bra, letting the straps slide down your shoulders. “Only if you promise not to use what I show you on anyone else.”
Eddie licked his lips as he watched the lace drop to fully reveal your breasts. “Wouldn’t dare.” Tentatively, as if he was scared to move too fast, Eddie cupped the soft flesh and lifted.
“They’re heavy,” he said with surprise.
You chuckled. “They can be.” Placing your hands over his, you guided him where you wanted him, and told him to squeeze.
“That doesn’t hurt?” he asked curiously.
You shook your head. “You’re not gonna hurt me, Eddie. Just…do what you want, and I’ll let you know if I don’t like it.”
“What if you do like it?”
Your patience was already thinning. “You’ll know.”
There it was again. That tantalizing tongue of his poking out of the side of his mouth as he finally gave in.
Gripping his shoulders for stability, your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of him kneading your chest. Experimenting with pressure, noting that your breath hitched when he held you a little firmer—the way your head tilted back when he brushed his palms over the pebbled flesh of your nipples. His hands felt just as good as you hoped they would. Maybe even better, as they were rougher than you imagined. The harsh texture in contrast to your smooth skin fueled the fire brewing between your legs. The contented sigh that fell from your parted lips when he rolled them between his fingers. Pinching, tugging, sometimes too hard but he paid attention to your direction, never making the same mistake twice.
When his mouth enveloped the hardened nub, you felt all the breath leave your lungs in a rapid huff as you lurched forward involuntarily from the pulse of pleasure coursing through you.
No one had done that to you before. The most attention your boobs ever got was clumsy groping and a sloppy wet kiss to the tops. Never had anyone swirled their tongue over your nipples, and suddenly you felt very cheated.
“Keep doing that,” you breathed, finally living out another fantasy of threading your finger through his hair at the base of his neck to hold him close. It was softer than it looked--thicker and lush. You wondered what it would feel like tickling the inside of your thighs.
Eddie changed course, going from languid swirls to quick flicks that sent jolts of need through your body. Your hips started to rock on their own accord, gliding your sopping cunt over his cock.
Eddie groaned loudly—the vibrations making you whimper. He dropped his hands from your breasts, ignoring the meek whine of protest from you at the loss of contact, and instead focused on gripping the bare fat of your ass beneath your skirt to move you how he wanted—pulled down flush against him and faster. Your hips sped up to meet his pace, relishing in the way the head of his cock bumped your clit with each pass.
He pulled off of your breast with your nipple gently clenched between his teeth, releasing it with a primal growl. You hoped he would show the same attention to the other side, but instead he directed his mouth to the column of your throat--sucking lightly, nipping and licking his way around.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he groaned. “Makin such pretty noises for me.”
“Y-you can only leave marks--” you began breathlessly, interrupted by a mouth escaping your lips at the feel of him finding that sweet spot at the juncture of your neck. “--if I can mark you.”
Eddie’s response was indecipherable between the grunt that emitted from him, the way his lips latched onto the soft skin of your neck, and whatever he was trying to mumble. The sting of the suction on your throat paired with the vibrations of his failed attempt at speech was becoming too much.
“You’re soaking me, baby,” he moaned. “Feels so fucking good.”
Grip tightening on your ass, his hips bucked into you, causing shockwaves to roll through the tendrils of your nerves. Finally, the ache you’d been suffering from for weeks was going to be cured. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to subsiding the dull burn in the pit of your stomach with each rhythmic roll of your hips against his. Abdominal muscles fluttering, hole clenching around nothing, blood like molten lava through your veins, moaning and panting with abandon--If he felt this good without even being inside you, you couldn’t wait to find out what like it felt like to be filled with him.
You could just reach down, yank your ruined underwear to the side and slide down the length of him, but you couldn’t stop your movements long enough to do so. You were climbing to your peak and fast.
But Eddie beat you to it. As soon as you opened your mouth to tell him you were on the precipice of seeing stars, Eddie gave one--two more rough thrusts as he let out an animalistic growl in the crook of your neck.
Panic set in. “No. No!” you whined to yourself, trying not to lose impending orgasm by continuing to ride him relentlessly, but it was too late. The tingle had already faded too far to get back without having to start all over.
Disappointed, you closed your eyes to prevent tears of frustration from falling and laid your head atop his in defeat.
Eddie didn’t move from your neck. “Goddamn it! I’m sorry,” he panted. “I’m so fucking sorry. You just--it felt so good and I--fuck!”
“It’s okay,” you replied flatly. If you weren’t mere seconds from cumming your brains out, it would have been hot. Getting him so worked up that he couldn’t control himself? Cumming in his frog underwear while he clutched onto for dear life? Literally the subject of your dreams. But with how sore your gut was getting, it was almost cruel to have lost your well earned orgasm so close to the finish line.
Eddie pulled away from you, looking quite dejected with bits of your hair stuck to his wet lips. “It’s not,” he said breathlessly. “Let me make it up to you. Please? I can still make you feel good. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be good to go.”
He looked so pitiful. Big brown eyes shining at you. Lips pouty. Chest heaving as he pleaded for another chance.
How could you say no to that face? To the offer, really. None of the others would have ever cared that you didn’t get yours, if they even noticed at all.
“Okay,” you answered with a nod. “But, can we go to your room?”
“Yes!” Eddie exclaimed with relief. “Yeah. Uh, let me just--give me a few minutes to clean it up a little.”
You untangled yourself from him and stood to your feet, embarrassed by the stickiness of your thighs. You’d never gotten that wet before, not even by yourself.
“Holy shit!” Eddie laughed, staring at his lap.
You were instantly mortified by the sight. Eddie wasn’t joking--you did soak him. Between your fluids and his, the navy blue boxers were saturated.
Panic fluttered in your chest. He probably thought it was gross. “Sorry, I didn’t mean--”
“Sorry?” Eddie repeated. “Sorry for what? This is--this is fucking hot. I mean, not mine so much, but holy shit.”
You stared at him in disbelief. Eddie was downright…beaming. Eyes kissing in the corners from how large his toothy grin was as he admired your joint handiwork. “You don’t think it’s gross?”
Eddie wiggled his brows. “Lucky boxers just got luckier.”
Huh. That was new too. Mostly that aspect of your body was treated as something to be ashamed of.
“Your room?” you prodded gently.
“Oh! Right.” Eddie pulled his jeans up from his thighs before standing, holding them up to his hips in lieu of buckling them. “Don’t leave!” he shouted as he sprinted down the short hallway.
You chuckled to yourself as he disappeared from sight. Who would have thought Eddie Munson was so…dorky? The image he projected at school and the one you conjured in your head weren’t him at all--Brash, tough, something to be feared or avoided, possibly demented. What a crock. He was goofy. Maybe even sweet. And certainly easier on the eyes than you gave him credit for.
You took the opportunity to find your shirt from the living room floor and try to locate your bra that you threw from the kitchen while Eddie did…whatever he was doing in there. More various banging and swearing emitted from the depths of the hallway that made it sound like he was trying to tear the place down instead of clean it up.
At a closer look of the walls within the Munson home, more than hats and mugs stood out to you. A couple of photos bleached by the sun were tacked to the sheet rock. One showed a large older woman with glasses the size of the moon atop her nose sitting at a wooden table with a handful of cards, a cigarette burning between her fingers, and an expression that you’d bet your life was caused by a winning hand at whatever game she was playing. Another with two little boys in matching coveralls outside a wired fence, both grimacing and squinting to protect themselves from the bright light of the sun. The one next to it was of a girl—who couldn't be older than seventeen—holding a baby with a head full of wild curls, bright wide eyes, grinning proudly to show the two tiny teeth cutting above his gums.
“I know that face,” you grinned, flattening the curled photo against the wall for a better look.
Eddie poked his head through the doorframe. “Did you say something?”
You tapped the picture and took great joy in watching his cheeks pinken at the realization of what you were looking at.
“So you were always cute,” you replied happily.
The color of Eddie’s face rivaled that of a tomato. Watching him become flustered was probably your new favorite thing to do to him. Mean and scary Munson blushing and curling inwards at a compliment? Interesting, indeed.
He cleared his throat and pointed his thumb towards his room. “Do you wanna—?”
Absolutely you did. You followed him with a nod into the small bedroom and took it all in. This was certainly what you expected his room to look like, though if this was the clean version you wondered what it looked like a few minutes ago. He did make the bed at least. Posters and drawings that looked like they were cataloged straight from hell lined the walls. Monsters, demons, skeletons, witches—some printed, painted, and hand drawn. The dresser and desk were covered with stuff. Tools, magazines, ashtrays, were those bullet shells? And a light blue box of condoms topped with a thin layer of dust.
You inspected the obviously unopened box and held back giggles. “Don’t Think we should use these. They expired in September of 1982.”
Horrified, Eddie snatched the package from your hand and stammered, “My uncle—when I started high school.” He gulped, comically tossing the offending material over his shoulder into the abyss. “He thinks he’s funny.”
His attention immediately went to your still bare chest, eyes boring into it like he could see the future through your tits. Suddenly feeling quite awkward and self conscious, you crossed your arms to hide yourself from him, unsure of what to do next.
“You’re pretty overdressed,” you pointed out. While you were only down to stringy lace underwear and a black skirt, Eddie wasn’t missing any clothing.
Breaking from his trance, Eddie scrambled fast as lightning to pull his shirt over his head, accidentally snagging a fistful of his hair along with it causing him to hiss. It was so difficult not to laugh, watching him scamper to free himself of his jeans, but when he stood to his full height in nothing but his ruined boxer shorts, you took a step closer to admire his body.
He was certainly taller than you—your eyes only meeting the middle of his tattooed chest. There was more ink there too. A horrible looking skull. A spider. A dagger with some sort of weird writing on it. But it was all so fitting of him. The black dye complimented his alabaster skin nicely.
As did the shadow of muscles on his abdomen. He was a lot more built than you thought he was under those layers of leather and denim. He wasn’t big enough for the football team, but he would probably do well in soccer with those long legs of his.
Toying with the guitar pick that dangled from his necklace, you looked up at him from your lashes. “You should probably kiss me.”
Eddie swallowed hard at the suggestion, making you grin a little at how nervous he still seemed to be despite being in nothing but his underwear.
But he didn’t kiss you. Not yet. The way his big brown eyes were raking over you, like he could see through your very soul, made you shrink a little under the strength of his gaze. But he had a sweet smile stretched across his lips--the kind that let his dimples dent his cheeks.
“You really are good lookin’,” you blurted.
Eddie chuckled softly, gently moving the loose strands of hair out of your face with his thumb. “You’re gorgeous.” He moved his hand to caress your cheek, the other delicately tracing up the back of your arms with only the pads of your fingertips, sending shivers down your spine at the featherlight touch.
This kind of attention was something new. Something you hadn’t experienced before except for maybe with Steve, but the betrayal you felt after he ignored you once he got what he wanted left you bitter. Other experiences weren’t as…intimate. Gentle. Soothing, even. And you felt a tad bit guilty for coming on to Eddie so strongly, knowing full well what it was like to only be used for your body.
This was his first time doing anything ever with a girl. And while yes, you were desperate to get some sort of relief from the horrible tension in your stomach, you were enjoying Eddie’s sincerity. That’s what it had to be, right? He wasn’t like Steve with an ulterior motive--Eddie knew he was going to have you. And he decided to be sweet anyway.
You took the opportunity to wrap your arms around his slim waist, holding him close in a tight hug. He was so warm. Radiating heat that you gladly absorbed, taking in a breath as you pressed your cheek against his sternum. “You’re not what I thought you’d be like,” you admitted shamelessly.
Eddie returned the gesture, pressing your bare chest into his as close as he could--scratchy palms sliding up and down your back--occasionally clutching the soft curves. “And what’s that? Mean and scary?”
“Yeah,” you chuckled, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach that came to life when he kissed the crown of your head. “I’d thought you’d be…rough. Maybe a little mean. Domineering.”
With your face buried in his torso, you didn’t see Eddie frown or furrow his brows. “Is that what you like?”
You took some time to think before answering. “I don’t know what I like, Eddie. No one’s ever asked,” you sighed. And it was true. With your limited encounters, you didn’t have good concrete data on what did it for you. Billy was what you accused Eddie of being, and you could count on one hand the amount of times you actually enjoyed yourself, only to be reprimanded for it later.
Eddie’s grip tightened, and he peppered a few more kisses atop your head, temples, and the edge of your hairline. Each one making your heart flutter faster and the heat in your cheeks rise. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. I know what I liked in my dreams,” you added thoughtfully. “We could always give it a shot. If you want to, I mean.”
Eddie pulled away just enough to lock eyes with you--tilting your head up further with the knuckle of his index finger. “I’d sure as shit love to, but you gotta know, I’m not him. Whoever you’ve been dreaming about. I mean, I already disappointed you with being--you know.” Eddie gulped, lightly nibbling at the edge of his bottom lip.
You placed a quick peck onto the corner of his mouth, and another on the other side. “I know. You don’t have to be anyone or anything. Just you. I’m sorry if I’ve made you think otherwise.”
Eddie nodded, the edge of his lip ticking up into a fragment of a smile. “Still want me then? I’ll still die a very happy man if you change your mind.”
“Oh, I still want you, Eddie Munson,” you chuckled heartily.
“Well then,” Eddie grinned, removing your hands from behind his back and bringing your knuckles to his lips for a quick kiss. “You shall have me.”
You couldn’t stop giggling. Giggling for god’s sake. It was so cheesy. Such a bad line. If anyone else had said it, you probably would have snorted and rolled your eyes. But Eddie? Something about him made it work--the way his eyes practically sparkled or the fact that he just kissed the tops of your hands like some Victorian Royal. Why hadn’t you paid any attention to him before? You could almost kick yourself for believing what everyone else said about him instead of finding out for yourself. But you were here now, and didn’t want to waste anymore time. You wrapped your hands around his neck, bringing his face down to be able to catch him in a kiss.
This time was better. Instead of rushing him, you let him set the pace--take the lead--let him be the one to decide if and when he wanted to deepen the kiss. You followed his movements, moving with him and trying to give pointers with your own body language when things got a little…lost. The longer it went, the more his confidence grew. Languid licks into your mouth turned into more adventurous tugging at your bottom lip. And before long, you were on the bed with Eddie hovering over you--skirt and underwear cast aside somewhere in the chaos of his room.
Body practically searing, you held your breath as Eddie traced his fingertips over the soft expanse of your belly. Normally self consciousness of how you looked would cloud your mind with doubt—stretch marks, the size and shape of your abdomen—but with how Eddie gazed at you with a slack jaw and brown eyes almost pleading, you forgot to think too much about it.
“Can I touch you?” he asked carefully, rubbing his large palm against your stomach.
Though you were glad Eddie cared enough to ask permission, you were becoming increasingly impatient as lust clouded your mind. “I might kill you if you don’t,” you answered with a huff.
Eddie licked his lips and spared a glance between your legs. You let your knee drop further, inviting him to explore. He slid his palm down to slide his fingers along your sticky slit. A sigh of relief rushed from your lips at the contact, and your hips instinctively followed his fingers for more.
His eyes clenched shut as he groaned through parted lips. “Oh, fuck. You’re so wet.”
“It’s cause of you,” you praised, threading your fingers in his hair and holding his forehead to yours once again. “You did this to me.”
Eddie audibly gulped, unable to both carry on a conversation and focus on his fingers at the same time. He was being too delicate for your liking, barely able to feel the brush of his fingertips. Desperate to help, you put your hand over his, showing him how you wanted to be touched.
“Like this,” you said, adding more pressure against his middle finger as he traced the path from your entrance to your clit, breath hitching at the tingling sensation when he reached it.
“And just--” your pressed his fingers harder against you, showing him just how you liked to be rubbed. You tried to tell him he could switch it up between small circles or figure eights, but the only thing that came out of you were little squeaks of appreciation. The callus of his fingertips against the delicate flesh there was hypnotizing to say the least.
“That’s good?” he questioned with a furrowed brow.
The circular ministrations he applied to your clit kept you from doing anything other than nod dumbly. But that seemed to be acceptable to Eddie, whose lips twisted into a lopsided grin.
You moved your grasp from his hand to find purchase on his forearm instead. His half lidded eyes stayed focused on yours. “Can’t believe you’re letting me do this,” he admitted.
You wanted to tell him you were getting a hell of a lot out of it too, but again, words failed you. Instead, you settled for a breathy “Mhm” and let yourself get lost in his touch.
Within a few minutes, Eddie got more spontaneous. He moved his attention back down to your hole, keeping the heel of his palm right where you wanted. You were surprised when he teased your entrance with his finger without being prompted, but enjoyed the attention nonetheless. When you answered his raised brow with a nod, the delightful stretching around his thick finger paired with the friction on your sensitive button was nothing short of relief. You greedily took what he gave you, rocking your hips steadily to set the pace you wanted from him, and he happily obliged. Swiftly gliding his finger in and out with calculated compression against your clit.
“Yes,” you cooed with a heaving chest. “Jus-just like that.”
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groaned, hot breath fanning against your face. “Fucking yourself on my fingers. Jesus Christ.”
He never took his eyes away from yours. You wanted so desperately to kiss him, but somehow this was far more intimate. Noses nudging against each other, lips barely brushing to breath in every whine he coaxed out of you. He was so gorgeous like this. Brown eyes dark and hazy, pouty lips open in a silent ‘O’ as his brow furrowed in concentration. He made pretty noises too, panting and groaning along with you like it felt just as good to him.
But it wasn’t enough.
“Eddie,” you whimpered, grip tightening on his forearm. “Eddie, I need you.”
“‘M right here.”
Shaking your head, you moved your grasp from his arm to his cock. “Need you. Inside.”
All of his movements ceased. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Really? Like now?”
“Yes, now!” you whined.
“Right! Sorry! Just can’t--really can’t believe this is about to happen,” he babbled. He made quick work of getting rid of his boxers before adjusting himself properly. He was heavy, but in a way that brought you comfort as he draped his body over yours and caged your head between his forearms. Both breathing heavily from exhilaration, you took a second to revel in the moment.
“Holy shit!” he laughed.
Brushing the long waves behind his ear, you nodded and leaned up just enough to press a tender kiss to his plump lips.
Eddie couldn’t contain his excitement. He moved from your lips, you kissing all over your face before settling for sloppy opened mouth kisses dotting a path from your collarbone up to that mind numbing spot at the juncture of your neck. As soon as his teeth scraped against it, you squeezed his hips with your knees, the craving for him only intensifying. The feel of his breath on your neck, hair tickling your chin and cheek, the weight of his chest pressing against yours was all too dizzying.
“Need you,” you whimpered against his cheek. You dipped your hand between your bodies to grab his length and poise it at your entrance.
Eddie groaned at the desperation in your demand. Sliding the head of his cock between your drenched folds, the torture of him being so close was getting to be too much. Your body jolted with every bump of his cock against your swollen bud. You were getting impatient, and needed him to be inside already.
“Eddie, please,” you begged.
Breathing raggedly, Eddie obliged. He pushed himself in with you guiding him, emitting a groan of satisfaction that rumbled from the depths of his chest. Yours was just as loud as you felt him slide into you, walls stretching with that delicious bite to consume him completely.
As soon as he reached his end, a simultaneous breath of relief flowed between both of you. It was almost intoxicating being so full of him. It didn’t seem like you could feel anything else but him, both inside and out, and you were deliriously addicted to it. You tangled your fingers into the curls of hair at the nape of his neck and yanked him down to meet your lips and a hungry kiss. You wanted him to understand just how much you wanted him. Greedy, sloppy, and feverish—you put all your unbridled desire into curling your tongue around his, roughly nipping his bottom lip.
Breathing heavily, Eddie pulled away. “It’s okay?”
You nodded vigorously, almost begging him with the look in your eye to please give you what you wanted. “You can move.”
Inching back, the slow drag of his cock between your tight walls was enough to arch your back, already missing the feel of engulfing him completely. But when he snapped his hips forward in a powerful thrust, you couldn’t help the wanton moan that escaped your lips.
“Fuck,” he moaned. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”
You hummed in response, unable to formulate more of a reply than that. Even if he didn’t know what he was doing yet, being stuffed full of him was already a relief of its own.
He experimented with pace and tempo. It took some time for him to find a rhythm that was to your liking. You didn’t want to be too bossy or demanding, so you kept your queues limited to directing his hips with your hands—subtly maneuvering him until you found just the right motion that made your head flop back onto the pillows. It was his first time after all, and you didn’t want him to lose confidence with constant redirection.
“There!” you gasped once he found the spot you could never reach on your own. “Right there, baby.”
“Yeah?” Eddie grunted back. His hips rutted into yours in a steady, fast paced rhythm that kept you bucking into him for more. It was too good to not keep chasing the sensation of him gliding into you with each forceful pump of his cock.
Whatever he was hitting seemed to also be the off switch to your brain. All thoughts were erased from your mind in an instant, only leaving behind an instinctual need for more.
“Yeah,” you repeated, no longer in control of the words falling from your lips. “Yes. Yes!”
He dropped his chest down further, sweat slicked skin sliding against yours as he devoured your breathy moans in a heated kiss. You practically shouted at the new pressure of his pelvis grinding against your clit. You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist and locked your ankles together to keep him right where you wanted.
“So fucking perfect,” he said thrkigh gritted teeth. “Look so pretty taking my cock.”
Normally dirty talk would have been another eyeroll and possibly get rid of any sexual desire you had. But it was another thing Eddie would get away with. It could be because of how grateful he looked when he said it, or because he felt so good inside you that you couldn’t care less what came out of his mouth so long as he kept his hips moving.
You couldn’t get enough of him—wanting to feel every inch he had to offer. You held him close, letting your hands roam around the expanse of his back. Feeling every ripple his muscles that appeared with each contraction of his torso. The ridges of his ribs. The dent of the dimples on his lower back. The soft fat of his cute little ass that you pressed harder against you to get him as deep as you could.
And there it was. The perfect combination of pressure, speed, and depth.
“Eddie,” you gasped against him. “Eddie, don’t stop,” you pleaded breathlessly. “God, don’t stop.”
He drove into you harder, rewarded with the deafening sound of the headboard clashing against the wall. It was all getting to be too much for Eddie. The squealing of the old mattress springs, your cries of pleasure and death grip your hot, slick walls had on his cock, the bounce of your tits slapping against his chest all were causing his abdomen to contract in a way that could only mean one thing.
“I’m close,” he warned loudly, hips faltering a little.
Instinctively, your legs clenched tighter around him. You didn’t want to lose it. Not again. Not knowing it would just leave you frustrated and sore. “I’m almost there,” you announced. You weren’t far off, but not quite there yet. “Just a little bit more, baby, please.”
Eddie gritted his teeth and willed himself to hold it, losing both the battle and his mind with each high pitched mewl that escaped the back of your throat, each plea to not stop as you hurdled toward your release.
The hair on your arms started to stand on edge as the tingling goosebumps erupted across your naked skin. As soon as the tight coil in the pit of your belly ruptured, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body, you lost your vision. Did you black out? You couldn’t say. The only thing you could hear was the roar of blood coursing through your ears. The only sensation you could identify as you convulsed around Eddie was the tingling that radiated through every nerve you possessed. The only word you could pronounce between wails and blissful sobs was “Eddie!”
Finally. After weeks of dreaming, you had Eddie Munson. After a year or so of solo ventures, you had an orgasm that wasn’t by your own hand. After years of bad to mediocre sex, you had the best climax of your life. At fucking last.
When your body went completely boneless and released Eddie from the vice grip your legs had on him, he abandoned his post and collapsed next to you in a breathless, wheezing heap.
You found Eddie’s sweaty hand and laid yours atop it. He flipped it over and interlaced his fingers with yours, clutching tightly. A nonverbal way to say “I’m still here.”
Minutes ticked by as you tried to float back into your body. Eddie’s popcorn ceiling was all you could focus on while your heart stopped pulsing so hard against your face to where you could physically see the rapid beating. And when your lungs stopped screaming for air, you turned your head to see Eddie still struggling to breathe.
“Shit, I gotta quit smoking,” Eddie wheezed.
You giggled and watched as he placed sloppy kiss on the back of your hand. “Glad you think that’s funny,” he jested.
“Want me to get you some water?” You offered, trying to supress your giggles at his red and sweaty face.
He shook his head. “I’ll get us both some in a second.”
You pushed yourself up on your elbow, your hand still tangled with his, and placed your chin on his chest. “Did you cum?”
“Oh hell yeah!” Eddie answered eagerly. “Hard not to when there’s a hot chick screaming my name.”
You hid your face by burying it in his chest, concerned about what you said and how you sounded.
As if he could hear your thoughts, Eddie tapped the top of your head until you reluctantly looked at him. “So fucking hot. Wouldn’t change a thing. C’mere.”
You obliged, crawling up Eddie’s chest and meeting him in a smooch. A quick peck turned into two. Into three. Into one long kiss that stole what little breath you regained.
A sudden sense of dread settled in your stomach when you watched the way Eddie’s eyes raked over you. You could clearly see adoration. Appreciation. Glee. And while the look on his face should have brought you comfort and ease, anxiety took hold. Steve looked at you the same way, and that was a ruse. What if this turned out to be the same? Eddie could easily kick you to the curb now that he got what he wanted. It’s what all men did, isn’t it?
Nervously, you began to fiddle with one of the rings on his fingers. “You know, there’s one part of my dreams that I hope comes true.”
Eddie raised his brow. “Do tell.”
“You don’t forget me in the morning.”
Eddie snorted. “Sweetheart, I’m never going to forget you. Even when I’m old and in the corner of some nursing home, I’ll always remember this night.”
“That’s not what I mean, Eddie,” you said sadly. “I don’t want you to act like this never happened or ignore me.”
Eddie’s smile slid from his face, an expression of concern replacing it. “I’m not gonna do that. I’d invite you to spend the night—shit, the whole damn weekend—but I didn’t wanna scare you. Come off creepy or whatever.”
Your abdomen felt lighter. “You mean it?”
He kissed your forehead with a wet, loud smack. “I should have told you—when I said you have me, I meant it. I am your ever faithful, humble servant.”
Those damn giggles returned. “Then I suppose I’ll keep you, so long as you’ll have me.”
The rest of the night was better than you could have ever imagined. After a shower that left you covering in half a dozen hickies or more, You both talked about everything that came to mind, often getting sidetracked and falling down other rabbit holes of stories before looping back to the initial thought that started it all. Eddie let you see some of the most vulnerable parts of himself, and in turn, you showed him those parts of you. Before you knew it, the front door of the trailer slammed shut, announcing the arrival of the eldest Munson.
Eddie grabbed his alarm clock and showed you the angry red numbers.
You gasped at the time. “Six in the morning?! Eddie, we’ve been up all night!”
He tossed the clock carelessly onto his nightstand, not at all looking concerned when it crashed to the floor. “Stop being interesting for five minutes so we can go to sleep.”
You rolled your eyes at him, but snuggled closer into his chest. This is where you wanted to be. Warm, held, and adored.
Though he wasn’t at all what you dreamt of, Eddie Munson was indeed a dream come true.
————————————————————
Part 2 coming soon?
For more of my writing, I recommend my current series: Disjointed.
Tagging those who responded to the feelers post and those who have been putting up w me the entire writing process!
@eddiemunsonspantschain @pastel-pillows @stayonmars @lesservillain @2clones-1kamino @laura83stuff-blog-blog @katethetank @thruheavenandhighwater @hellfiredarling @mmunson86 @b-irock
IM EATIN THIS SHIT THE FUCK UP-
my puthy screamin' achin' quakin' shakin' barkin' and meowin' I need this man yesterday.
eddie munsons hands moodboard <3
I'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck
18+ mdni
handssssss
what else am i meant to do at 3am?
Me just getting into stranger things 🙊🙊
BILLY HARGROVE & STEVE HARRINGTON in STRANGER THINGS 2 ↳ Chapter Nine: The Gate
He so fuckin fine
Dark Sailon Moon by Bebop Genesis (2023)
Penance (Sequel to Bully) - 1/3
Billy Hargrove x fem!reader
A/n: something happened and this came out of me.
contents: 18+ minors dni, smut, Catholicism, religious kink, religious trauma, idolizing billy like he’s god, oral (f and m receiving), road head, choking, p in v, unprotected sex, swallowing heheh
word count: 3.9k
A cool night in late October, suns been down for hours. Rubber burns on the asphalt as that midnight blue Camaro rips down your street. You can hear it as soon as he turns down Chardonnay Way six blocks up. Rushing out into your front yard, Billy pulls up and leans against the center console so he can push the passenger door open for you. With an excited squeal, you jump inside and he peels away before you can even close the door.
“Angel,” he purrs, that devilish smirk you’ve fallen in lust with spreading across his lips and you feel that all too familiar heat rising up your thighs.
No matter the routine, you get insufferably excited at sneaking out with him. Being as now you don’t go to the same school and you’re absolutely forbidden from seeing him. St. Augusten is a good school and all, but it’s a little brutal being around only girls all the time. Not to mention, all you can think about is Billy. All day you fantasize about him. Which is totally sinful, if the sisters could read your mind you’re sure they’d expel you or worse, exorcize you. It’s really not your fault, since he took your virginity you’ve been insatiable.
“Hi,” you pant before placing your hand on his thigh and leaning over to kiss his jaw. “Been thinking about you all day.”
Billy hums intrigued, his breath hitched when he replies, “You little nymph.”
Smoothing your hand up his thigh, you place a handful of kisses against his jaw until your hand cups the particular piece of him you’ve been thinking about nonstop. You squeeze gently, groaning excitedly as you feel it start to get stiff. Billy exhales sharply, pressing on the gas a little harder. You observe as his hands tighten around the wheel as you push against his bulge some more. His hips roll just slightly, barely noticeable but you’re learning how to pick up on his tells. You’re actually a bit obsessive, analyzing your interactions once you’re back home in bed. Remembering every sound and move he makes, and what you do that has him making them.
“Can’t help myself,” you tease, squeezing his cock through his tight jeans and lick against his jaw, “You made me like this.”
“Fuck,” he groans, lips parting as his tongue comes out to swipe against his lower lip. “Keep talking.”
“You corrupted me,” you tell him with a whine, unbuttoning his jeans slowly, “You touched me and now all I can think about is all the nasty things I wanna do to you. All day, during school, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I need to have your cock in my mouth.”
He gasps, foot heavy on the accelerator as you unzip his jeans and pull his achingly hard cock out. You lick against his jaw again, squeezing the base of him.
“Today's lesson was Avoiding Evil and Doing Good,” you tell him matter of factly before lowering your voice, “And I had to keep squeezing my thighs together because I was thinking about you fucking my face.”
“Jesus Christ,” he tilts his head back just slightly as he rolls his hips again, keeping his eyes on the road. “Bet you’d let me bend you over your desk and fuck you in front of everyone.”
“I would,” you agree, beginning to pump him in your hand, “I’d let you fuck me anywhere.”
“Such a slut,” he groans, “Be a good girl and swallow down my cock.”
You bite your lip as you smile, leaning down between his legs and licking at his tip. Swirling your tongue around the pink tip and gathering all the precum bubbling out of his slit, you languidly stroke his shaft in your palm. The weight of him makes you giddy, makes your whole body tingle in anticipation. Wrapping your lips around him, you peek up to get a look at his face. He’s still got his eyes on the road but his mouth is open from the pleasure. So you swallow him down as far you can take him, smiling around his cock as he elicits a gravelly moan. Lowering a hand to his sack, you breathe through your nose and begin to bob up and down on him. Suddenly, you feel his hand knotting in your hair and you pray there’s no sharp turns coming up. Maybe you shouldn’t be praying to God with this man’s cock in your mouth, but you’ve decided it’s gonna be better to beg for forgiveness later. And well, God made Billy so he has to understand. Right?
Momma tells you Billy is from the devil, put here to tempt you into a salacious and satanic life. But really, in these moments, you feel closer to God than you ever have. Billy makes you feel like you’re floating up and up and up, close to heaven. Maybe it is a false prophet thing but you’re too far gone to really care. It feels too good.
You gag as his tip reaches the back of your throat and you pull back, making sure your hand circles around the base.
“So good,” you say, muffled around his cock, blinking up at him.
“Didn’t anyone teach you not to talk with your mouthful?” he grins, glancing down at you briefly.
“Sorry,” you apologize, mouth still stuffed with his cock and he gives you a tug of your hair. You quickly swallow him down some more to shut yourself up, closing your eyes tightly as you hollow out your cheeks. He pumps his hips up, holding you still with his hand and you can’t help but gag, squirming in your seat because this is exactly what you were thinking about while Sister Agnes droned on and on about what Evil’s to stay away from. She’d really dislike Billy, if she’d seen him, if she’d seen the things he did to you.
“Fuck,” Billy whines, “Gonna cum, angel.”
You double down, sucking hard as you take him as deep as you can. Hand on his thigh, squeezing it while you try not to choke. His hips lift off the seat, flooring the gas as he shoots down your throat. You swallow as much as you can before pulling off. He lets off the gas, chest heaving as he puts both hands back on the wheel. As you catch your breath, you help get his softening cock back in his pants and button them back up.
Billy drives to a familiar spot, parks in the meadow and pulls you onto his lap. He puts his seat back as far as it’ll go and grabs onto your face, dragging your lips to his. It’s filthy the way he licks into your mouth, makes your mind go numb as you grind against him, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. You’ve come a long way since your first kiss but he still manages to make you melt from a simple kiss. You swore you were gonna explode the first time and now, it just makes you antsy to get his mouth on other parts of you. His hands move down your back and then he grabs firmly on your hips, swirling his tongue against yours. It’s heady, impure and so sinful. Your momma would be furious, seeing the way you give into the demonic pleasures. You’re putty in Billy’s hands though, especially when they move to the globes of your ass and he squeezes, pulling you closer. Nipples poke through your school shirt, skirt pooled where you sit on Billy’s lap. He told you how much your uniform turned him on one day and now, you keep it on whenever you see him. The way he groped you when you wore it made it obvious enough but when he mumbled in your ear how sexy you looked while he was fucking you confirmed it.
“God, I love you in this uniform,” he mumbles against your open mouth and you laugh back in his.
“I was just thinking about that,” you tell him.
“Yeah,” he tilts his head while he beams up at you, “That why you wear it every time I see you?”
You nod, biting your lip and unbuttoning the top of your blouse to expose the rosary underneath. His fingers grab the beads and wrap them around his digits, using the leverage to pull you into another heated kiss. Billy growls into this one, using the hand still on your ass to ground you against him. He’s hard again, his strained erection rubbing against your pantie-clad heat and it makes you dizzy, grabbing his shoulders tighter while you try to keep up with the sloppy kiss. The way he reacts to you makes you feel like you're rising out of your body, astral projecting up and up. Perhaps what your mother says is true, because Billy has you under some kind of weird spell. You imagine this is what drugs feel like. At least, it aligns with all the things you hear about drugs and in the same vein, satanism. And Billy really kind of encapsulates that. The music, the fast car and the dangerous way he makes your clothes fall off.
“Need you,” you gasp against his tongue, pulling his shirt up by the collar.
He chuckles lowly, tugging on your rosary as he rolls his hips up, “All yours.”
“Mine,” you confirm as you pull his shirt over his head and connect your lips again immediately after, hands purchasing all over the golden contours of his muscled chest. His skin is hot to the touch, warms your entire body but very, very intensely between your thighs.
“How much repenting are you gonna have to do tonight?” he inquires against your desperate mouth.
You slide your fingers up into his mess of curls, tugging on them as you furrow your brows, “Not enough.”
“You love being my little sinner,” he snarks, wrapping the beads around his fist and pulls harder. The tightening of it chokes you just slightly and in the most delicious way, makes your head feel even more spacey as you grind down against him. “What would your parents say if they saw you right now? So desperate to have me ruin you…”
“Billy,” you whine, voice hoarse with the pressure of the beads against your throat, “They’d have me exorcized.”
“Yeah?” he mumbles, lips meeting the center of your throat. His breath is hot and his words vibrate against your neck, “You possessed by my cock?”
It’s so wrong but it’s cynically true. He’s got you wrapped around that entity in his pants. You’d beg for it, you’d commit any sinful, pathetic act to have it. No matter how wicked. Maybe you are possessed but you really don’t care. You need him, completely at will for this man. Billy could ask you to do the most nefarious things and you’re in deep, you have to. You’re addicted to him.
“Maybe,” you huff out, face contorting as you grind your clothed cunt against him, desperately trying to relieve the pressure building up between your legs. “Need it so bad it hurts.”
He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, tilting his head and frowning condescendingly, “Poor baby. You’d do anything for it.”
“Anything,” you confirm with a frantic nod.
“Stay still. Don’t move,” he instructs and your hips come to a stop, but your face must show your frustration because he tsks and says, “You said you’d do anything. Be a good girl for me.”
You nod, making sure to pout your lips. He laughs, low and guttural as he lets go of the rosary. He slowly unbuttons your blouse the rest of the way, displaying your tits to him. He purses his lips, “The good catholic girl didn’t wear a bra to school?”
You did, but you took it off before Billy picked you up. He doesn’t need to know that so you shake your head, trying to convey innocence as you stare at him wide eyed. His fingertips dance across our pert nipple, but he told uoi to stay still so you don’t arch your back like you really want to, you don’t moan out like you need to. You just blink at him. He smirks, circling his thumb against the stiff nub and tells you, “I can just imagine you, sitting at your desk, playing with your nipples over your shirt while you think about me. Impure thoughts, about me defiling you..”
You gasp as he pinches it, looking up at you with dark eyes, “What would Sister Agnes say if she saw me do this?”
He grabs your jaw, holds your mouth open and spits into your eager mouth. You hum as you close your lips and swallow, then dart your tongue out to lick up what didn’t land in your mouth. The filthy action has your cunt pulsing and you can’t help but rock your hips against him.
“And what would she say about how much you fucking like it?” He groans, moving his hand around to spank you. “God, you’re such a filthy little slut. I’ve done a good job, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you nod, arching your back, “I’m your filthy slut.”
“Mhm,” he purrs, “all mine. Think you deserve to have my cock?”
“Please,” you beg, clenching around nothing as you pathetically bounce in his lap. “Need it so bad it hurts.”
Billy exhales, “Fuck, you drive me crazy. I need it too. Wanna taste you.”
You flush, cheeks swell with your flattered smile as you dip your head into the crook of his neck. He laughs, the sound sparking even more desire through your body as he rubs the small of your back.
“So shy,” he notes and turns to kiss your temple, “Let’s get into the back, yeah?”
You don’t hesitate, carefully lifting yourself from his lap before climbing back into the seat behind, laying on your back as you watch him eagerly follow. He settles between your legs, hand on the back of your thigh as he kisses you hungrily. You kiss back with fervor, though you want nothing more than his mouth between your thighs. Your clit aches with it, kissing him deep and messy. He grinds against you, jerking his hips as he growls against your mouth. He pulls back finally and kisses against your sore throat, grabbing your tit in his palm and squeezes as he licks your neck. He bites the skin and begins to suck and you let him for a beat before your better judgment clouds through.
“No marks where someone can see,” you remind him and he groans in frustration.
“Wanna mark you up so bad,” he complains, squeezing your tit again, “Want everyone to see what I do to you.”
You whine, rolling your hips up at him because fuck, you really want that too. Can’t help but imagine what the girls at school would say about you and what kind of trouble you’d get into but you’d be on severe lockdown and you cannot go long without seeing Billy so you pull on his hair and tell him, “I know… but I need you. I can’t deal with another month without seeing you. It’s too hard.”
“I know, baby,” he says against your skin, “Fucking went insane last time…”
You did too. It was so unbearable. And all you had was a Polaroid of Billy in a crop top. You’d been successful in coming to the photo but it was nothing like the real thing and you need his touch like you need air. “You can leave marks below the neck, anywhere no one will see.”
Billy pouts but his mouth descends, “Like here?”
His lips drag against your cleavage and you bite your lip, “Yeah…”
Teeth, pearly white ones, clasp around your nipple and you cry out, arching your back. He soothes the pain immediately, swirling his tongue around the stiff bud and you melt, the sensation shooting down to where you’re making a mess of your panties. And he’s got that quirk on his lips, smirk tugging the corners of them and Lord, forgive you, he’s the idol you admire most. At this point, you’re made in Billy’s image, not God’s. And you live to please him. He returns the favor better than the lord ever could.
His tongue broadly licks between your tits, down your stomach and he stops where your skirt rests on your waist. But he pulls it up, resting it on your tummy while his fingers hook into the waistband of your white panties. He bites onto the pale pink bow adorned at the center and starts peeling them down your thighs. You aide, pulling your legs up so he can get them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs and squeezes them in his grasp, eyes trained on your glistening cunt.
“So wet,” he purrs, dragging the pad of his fingertip through your slit, gathering the slick before sucking it into his mouth. He looks at you expectantly and the ritual begins.
Your fingers grasp your rosary and close your eyes as you whisper out the sacrament, “Lord, forgive me…”
Once the words leave your lips, his eager mouth meets your cunt and then you continue in a moan, “For I have sinned.”
He drags his tongues through your folds and you tug on your rosary, your own tongue heavy in your mouth. Billy’s mouth is sinful, so sinful as you continue, “my last confession was… four days ago…” a gasp, “for… premarital.. fuck—“
Billy laughs, breath tickling your folds but he keeps licking your pussy, fingers digging into your thighs.
“For premarital sex…” you whine, rolling your hips up against Billy’s face. “And I’m doing it again. I-I… god…”
His tongue lowers down to your entrance and he prods it so tenderly, makes your whole body shake as you confess, “I’m committing sin against my own body… again.”
Billy hums as he pulls back, rubbing his fingers against your whole as he begins his part, “God, the father of mercies, through the resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to Himself…” two digits slip into your eager hole, squelching with the motion as he keeps on, “and sent the Holy Spirit among us for forgiveness of sins…” Billy curls his fingers up, hitting that oh so tender spot deep inside, a moan spills from you. It’s loud, echos on your ears and makes your chest heave. Billy continues, “through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you,” he bends his head down and licks against your clit, pulling another moan from you. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
Once he’s finished, he gets his mouth back on you completely, sucking and licking against your clit almost feverishly. You have to fulfill your rest of the sacrament, spill out a prayer and this feels so blasphemous but so fucking hot. And you know Billy was also raised catholic by his necklace he always wears but you’re still always impressed by his perfect recital… every time.
“Fucking… Billy!” you cry out, pulling on his hair and he looks at you with almost judgmental eyes.
“Are you repenting or what?” he asks, raising an eyebrow before getting back to work on your cunt, hot mouth on your sensitive pussy.
“Oh my god,” you moan, arching your back, “I am… heartily sorry! Fuck….”
“You’re gonna have to repeat this whole confession again, the way you’re talking,” Billy notes, slowing the thrust of his fingers, “Behave. I don’t need to remind you, you’re talking to God.”
“I’m heartily sorry for having…” you gasp as he curls his fingers up, brushing against that beautiful spongy bit inside of you. You have to start over, “O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee…” he licks around your clit and you gasp out, “and I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of Hell.” Maybe hells not so bad if Billy’s down there with you. He feels like heaven on earth as it is. Yet, this feels like an actual confession, but better, “But, most of all, because they have offended Thee, my God, Who art all good, and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy Grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen.”
When you get through it, he pulls his fingers out and looks at you lustily, “Your penance is cumming on my cock.”
He sits upright and pushes his jeans down, exposing his throbbing cock to you. You nod, hands grabbing your own chest as you eagerly await your penance. He pressed his tip against your hole, plunging in quickly and grabbing onto your rosary in his fist. The beads press against your windpipe as he pounds his cock in and out of you in quick succession. It’s glorious. It’s heaven; right here in the crowded backseat of the Camoro and for a beat, you believe you’re getting fucked by God. At least, Billy’s just as pretty as you imagined him.
Even if his face looks extremely animalic, teeth exposed in a snarl as he snaps his hips roughly against you. The swollen head of his cock hits your g-spot every time and the lack of oxygen from how tightly he’s grabbing the rosary helps your orgasm culminate. Billy’s the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen in your life and you cannot fathom a life without this. Without him. He grunts, sounds as animalistic as he looks while he drills his cock into you with reckless abandon.
“Billy!” you cry out, body seizing from the overwhelming sensation. You’ve thought about how maybe the way your body reacts to him as similarly to demonic possession but you’ve seen people speaking in tongues, coming from God and you think that’s what billy’s doing to you.
“Come on, baby,” he seethes, tugging on the rosary, “Show God just how sorry you are.”
Billy rocks his body into yours, lowering his mouth to yours. He attacks your lips with his own, biting and sucking on your lips as he quickens his pace. The way he’s thrusting into you rocks your body, eyes rolling in the back of your head as he easily pulls your orgasm out of you. The pleasure is white hot, causing a scream to rip out of your throat while you thrash against him, coating his cock in the fruits of your pleasure.
“That’s it, baby,” he coos, stroking his thumb against your cheek, “That’s a good girl, cum for me.”
You yelp, scratching down his back while the waves of pure, blissful pleasure rush through you. “Ah! Billy!!! Yes!!!”
He pumps his hips quickly, grabbing onto your hips tightly, no doubt leaving bruises in his wake as he fucks you brutally. There’s a sharp sensation deep in you, makes you spout ecstasy riddled cries as he drags out your orgasm. He waits until you relax, the tenseness disappears and he pulls his dick out, inches up your body and presses the tip of his cock against your lips. You wrap them around the head and suck as hard as you can, swallowing his load for the second time that night.
“Such a good little sinner,” he heaves, combing his fingers through your hair and it’s… amazing. His words make you feel so naughty in the best way. God loves sinners but Billy loves them more.
It is unreal how good this read was. The whole series BUT SPECIFICALLY THIS ONE. The way the prayers are recited. THEN THE WAY HE FUCKIN REFERS HIMSELF TO GOD. I am on my knees.
me: I'm going to write a fic to my own entertainment
also me, writing said fic:
It’s cause I have to add so much to something I know I don’t have to-
I just watched Pride and Prejudice (2005) for the first time today..... I'm not well.
ᴛʀɪᴘʟᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ
Bruce Wayne x Reader x Jonathan Crane (NSFW)
When you notice Dr. Jonathan Crane watching you and your husband at a fundraising party, you get a little curious. When Dr. Crane angers you, he presses you to explore that anger. Will he regret it?
warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (both vaginal and anal), oral sex, cock warming, anal sex, anal fingering, blowjobs, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, porn without much plot, masturbation, forced masturbation, threesome, male x male, male x female, male x male x female, cum swallowing, spitting, face sitting, face fucking, crying, sub/dom tones, dom!reader, sub!jonathan, kinda sub!bruce but not really, ya know, just pure filth
word count: 5254
author’s note: welcome to our one-way ticket to hell besties <3 I didn't proofread this because it just poured out of me and I was truly possessed by the writing demon today. I had an idea and literally ran with it. I don't think I've ever written something so filthy before lol please enjoy and give feedback!! READ THE WARNINGS this fic isn't for everyone tbh.
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MOODBOARD FOR THIS FIC
One thing about being married to the Bruce Wayne was he had a thing for throwing parties and fundraisers at your mansion. This meant you had to dress up quite a bit, and you had to look really good as you were Bruce’s wife, of course. He always ensured you had the newest and most gorgeous gowns to show off at the gatherings. You’d spend the whole day getting your hair, makeup, and nails done, only to be at the parties for a few hours. And that was usually because Bruce had other duties in the city, he got too distracted by what you were wearing and needed you right then, or he simply let his antisocial side creep up on him. Tonight at the fundraiser he’s throwing, he seems content and has been by your side most of the night. Nothing drastic was going on in the city that demanded his action. But something was bothering him, you could tell. He’s slightly off, and you catch him staring at someone in the crowd a few times. You’re never able to pick them out, though.
You and Bruce are by the champagne table, and you notice Bruce is gazing out into the crowd of partygoers again.
“Bruce?” you ask softly, putting a hand on his bicep, “You alright?”
Bruce blinks hard a few times before turning to you, “I’m fine, darling.”
“You sure? You seem distracted by something this evening,” you scan the room, but to no avail for whomever Bruce is focused on.
“I just thought I recognized someone,” Bruce says, sipping his drink.
“Hmm. Alright, then.”
“Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?” Bruce smiles, letting a hand slide across the small of your back.
“Only about a thousand times,” you giggle, leaning into your husband.
You happen to look up, and that’s when you see him staring at the two of you. Dr. Jonathan Crane. He quickly averts his eyes away, but you have already caught him.
“Is it Dr. Crane that you recognize?” you ask Bruce, motioning to where he’s standing with some other rich psychologists.
“Yeah,” Bruce exhales, shrugging, “I thought he had left the city a while ago.”
“After the asylum got turned loose? I figured so, too. Oh well,” you say, looking up at Bruce, “If he’s here, then he’s donating, so maybe it’s not so bad.”
“You have a point,” Bruce raises his eyebrows, “I’m still keeping an eye on him, though.”
You knew of a few of the villains Bruce has come in contact with, including Jonathan. He had almost killed your best friend and sent the whole city insane. Who knows what would have happened to Gotham if it weren't for Bruce. But a part of you is curious about Jonathan- a deep, intellectual part of you. Why is he still here? Is he still a doctor? Your brain becomes dizzy with all the questions. If Jonathan is here acting casually on his own accord, you could, too. You tear away from Bruce without a word, drink in hand. Bruce calls after you, panic surging through him when he realizes where you’re headed.
“Dr. Crane,” you smile upon arriving in front of him and another psychologist, “Wonderful to see you here.”
“Ah, Mrs. Wayne. I wouldn’t miss a marvelous party for a good cause. Have you met Dr. Robin here?” Jonathan smiles back, not missing a single beat.
“I have not,” you look over to the tall woman in front of Jonathan, clad in a pantsuit. You reach out a hand for her to shake, “Y/N Wayne.”
“I know who you are, Mrs. Wayne,” Dr. Robin says politely, her Australian accent strong, “Your dress is quite lovely, I must say.”
“Thank you,” you reply with a smile, willing her to leave so you could speak with Jonathan alone.
“Well, I’ll be off. Seems you two have something to discuss,” Dr. Robin announces her departure, much to your relief.
“It was nice meeting you,” you say sweetly as she walks away.
“You as well, Mrs. Wayne.”
You turn to Jonathan, who clears his throat as he looks you up and down. You’re nearly the same height as him, if not slightly taller, in your heels.
“It’s really brave of you to be here, Dr. Crane,” you turn your head to the side, giving him a closed-lip smile.
“Please, call me Jonathan,” Jonathan responds, “And what would you mean by that?”
You take a step closer to him, leaning into his ear, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Jonathan. Or should I say, Mr. Scarecrow.”
Jonathan doesn’t flinch. In fact, he grins at you as he exhales a laugh, “Those days are behind me, I’m afraid.”
“Uh-huh,” you cross your arms, “And why should I believe you?”
Jonathan glances behind you to look at Bruce, who is on edge and watching the entire conversation to ensure nothing is tried. A muscle in Jonathan’s jaw twitches, “You don’t have to. But if I were up to no good, why would I be in the presence of the Batman and his lover? Quite unintelligent, wouldn’t you think?”
“And why are you here, exactly?”
“Trying to get myself back into the Gotham scene,” Jonathan looks at you matter-of-factly, “I’ve missed a lot being gone, you know.”
“Oh, I do know. And maybe you should’ve stayed gone,” you try not to snarl at him.
“Now, now, Mrs. Wayne. That is no way to speak to a donor,” Jonathan says, his voice dripping like honey with malice.
“You better be glad there are people around or-”
“Or what?” Jonathan asks, raising his eyebrows, a smirk itching at his lips.
“I’d fucking break you right here.”
“Sounds like a fun time. However, I’m not sure your husband would appreciate that in many, many ways.”
You scoff, “Don’t be crass. I’m not flirting with you. If I were, you’d know it.”
“There’s a fine line between desire and hatred, my dear,” Jonathan whispers in your ear, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin, “It’s a fun line to walk.”
Annoyance swells in your chest. You desperately wanted him to shut his bratty mouth. You also wanted to enjoy the rest of the party, but now that Jonathan had you riled up in anger, you wanted nothing more than to slam him against the wall and-
“Everything okay over here?” Bruce approaches suddenly, taking you by surprise.
“Everything is fine, sweetheart,” you place your hand on Bruce’s chest as a warning, “Nothing to worry about.”
“Dr. Crane isn’t bothering you, is he?” Bruce’s nostrils flare.
“Not at all,” you defend the doctor, “In fact, I’m probably annoying him.”
Bruce laughs humorlessly, “Oh, is that so?”
You cock your head at him, “Did you need something, dear?”
“Just want to speak with you privately,” Bruce says.
You go to say something, but Bruce interrupts you, “Both of you.”
If Jonathan is just as confused as you are, he doesn’t show it.
“Lead the way, Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce walks briskly to one of the guest rooms down the hall from the ballroom, making sure no one is following or watching the three of you. He ushers you and Jonathan inside, following suit before closing the door behind him.
“You know,” Jonathan says, breaking the silence, “I never pegged Mrs. Wayne for the threatening type out of the two of you.”
You bite your tongue, and Bruce looks over at you.
“Say what you want to say. I brought the two of you in here so you could solve your conversation away from those nosy fuckers outside,” Bruce rolls his eyes, fixing his cuff links.
“We aren’t children, Bruce,” you scowl.
“Then act like it,” Bruce sasses back.
“I do not need two men on my bad side right now. Remember what happens when you’re on my bad side, Bruce?”
Bruce looks between you and Jonathan, a hint of nervousness in his eye, “Don’t bring him into this, darling.”
“No, no. I’m curious now,” Jonathan grins deviously, stepping closer to you, “What happens when someone is on your bad side, Mrs. Wayne?”
Now realizing how your words and threats may have sounded all night to Jonathan, you backpedal.
“Not what you think, Dr. Crane,” you cross your arms, taking a step back from the doctor.
“Oh really? So your antagonizing and threats don’t mean anything?”
“What do you think they mean?”
“As I said earlier, desire and hatred are very close to one another,” Jonathan says suavely, “And I honestly can’t tell which you feel toward me.”
You make a disgusted sound despite the growing need to pin this man down and give him what for. Not even sexually, but simply because you’re tired of him speaking. However, Jonathan wasn’t bad-looking by any means- and sometimes, you and Bruce liked to try new things. But you don’t think Bruce would want to fuck with a murderer and criminal, especially one he’s had close encounters within the city. Jonathan almost burned him alive once, so you aren’t sure about whatever he’s insinuating going very far with your husband.
“Hatred,” you spit, “It’s hatred. Plus,” you look over at Bruce, “I don’t think my lover would appreciate me having anything to do with you anyway.”
Jonathan snorts, his eyes flickering between you and your husband, “Are you so sure about that?”
You furrow your brow, laughing incredulously at him, “I’m certain.”
“I don’t know,” Bruce says suddenly, “I wouldn’t mind seeing the fucker squirm on your account, Y/N.”
You nearly gasped, suddenly very aware of the animosity you were aiming at Dr. Jonathan Crane, now becoming sexual in nature. Not that you meant for it to, but now that it was insinuated out loud by someone other than Jonathan, you pondered your true feelings. As you’ve said, Jonathan was a looker. If you weren’t married to Bruce and the man wasn’t psychotic, you wouldn’t mind taking him for a ride. But you are married, and he is psychotic.
Jonathan has his hands shoved in his pockets, a smirk on his face as he studies you, “You want this. Don’t deny it, Mrs. Wayne. I can tell by the look in your eyes.”
You purse your lips together, “What I want is for you to shut up and behave. All you do is act high and mighty when you’re nothing but a little rat.”
Bruce tries to hide his laugh by covering it with a cough, “I’ll let everyone know it’s time to leave. When I come back, you two better be taking care of things.”
You look at Bruce, who gives you a slight nod in approval to do as you wish before he steps out of the room. No one is in charge in the bedroom permanently between the two of you. The dominant role is shared or is back and forth, depending on the day. To your shock, Bruce gives you the complete reins in this situation. But Bruce knew how much you despised Dr. Crane for what he’s done, even if a part of you is desperately curious about him. Desperate enough to demean him sexually, even. You want to humiliate him. Make him cry and make him regret having even come here. You want him to think of you whenever he feels shame or embarrassment for the rest of his life.
“A little rat, huh?” Jonathan chuckles, undoing his cufflinks.
“Yes,” you blink, forcing him to walk backward to the bed as he struggles to remove his blazer.
You shove him roughly onto the bed, watching him bounce from the mattress with a look of disorientation. Jonathan eventually gets his blazer off, discarding it onto the floor. You can’t properly climb on the bed with your gown on, so you reach behind your back, undoing the clasps that hold the silver dress together. You kick off your glittery heels, letting the gown slip to the floor in a pile. Underneath your dress, you decided a black lingerie set would do nicely. You’re glad you picked well, considering such a doting man was now staring at you like you were a piece of meat and he was starving. You try to ignore the logical side of your brain telling you this man is dangerous and crazy. But the other side of your brain is telling you that his cock is definitely dangerous and crazy, too. And you wanted to find out for sure.
“Now,” you begin to crawl to where Jonathan wordlessly lays, watching you carefully, “Are you going to be good and keep your mouth shut, pretty boy?”
“No promises,” Jonathan flashes a toothy grin, and you angrily rip his button-up open, buttons flying everywhere across the room.
Jonathan’s mouth hangs open, “That was an expensive shirt.”
“Nothing you can’t replace,” you shrug, running your hands along Jonathan’s handsome chest before letting your nails graze his nipples.
Jonathan shudders at the feeling, and you remove your hands from him, sitting back on your heels, “Lay on the pillows.”
“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Jonathan purrs, doing as told, surprisingly.
You hear the door open behind you, and you turn around quickly to see Bruce.
“Everyone is cleared out. Brought some fun stuff, too,” he places a box on the floor, kicking it to the end of the bed for you to grab it.
You lean down over the edge of the bed and retrieve the box, crawling on your knees to where Jonathan lies. You open the box and hum in satisfaction at Bruce’s choice of toys and trinkets. You fiddle with one toy, dragging your gaze to Jonathan with a wicked smile on your face. But before you reveal the toy, you snatch some rope out of the box.
“Now you have no choice but to be good, Dr. Crane,” you snicker, offering Bruce some of the rope to tie Jonathan’s left wrist to the bedpost with.
You tie Jonathan’s right wrist tight enough for him not to move too much but not enough to where blood flow is cut off. Jonathan tugs at the rope, looking at you and Bruce with a nervous yet exhilarating smile.
“I’m privileged to be living such a fantasy,” Jonathan sighs.
“You’ll be wishing you had never stepped foot in this house when she’s done with you,” Bruce smirks, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling his sleeves up.
“Ah,” Jonathan laughs.
Before he can comment any further, you shove a ball gag into his mouth, strapping it behind his head securely. A deep feeling of satisfaction to him finally being quiet fills you. But the joy of seeing such an evil man at your mercy is more intense.
“You better be glad I chose the ball gag instead of having Bruce have his way with that pretty mouth of yours, Crane,” you say, and Bruce shakes his head from where he stands beside the bed.
Drool begins seeping out of the sides of Jonathan’s mouth, and you can’t help but coo at the sight of his tightening pants and his reddening cheeks. You grab his face between your fingers, squishing his flesh. You hum in satisfaction before letting go of his face and focusing on his slacks. You all but tear his belt off his hips, hurrying to unbutton his pants before ripping them down his thighs. Bruce removes the pants the rest of the way as you climb onto Jonathan’s lap, your clothed core atop his throbbing, leaking bulge.
You kiss Jonathan’s jaw, leaving harsh bites along the column of his throat as you travel down, continuing your assault on the skin of his chest and torso. You reach the band of his underwear, which you tease with your hands, snapping the band against Jonathan’s skin. He tries his best to laugh from underneath the ball gag, spit sputtering from the gaps of his mouth. You slowly peel his underwear down his legs, watching as his hard cock slaps against his stomach. You let Bruce pull the underwear off completely, and he tosses it somewhere in the room to be found later. You lean down to lick the bead of precum off Jonathan's tip before pulling away completely, allowing Bruce the room to tie up the doctor’s ankles to the bottom bedposts. You stand at the foot of the bed, chuckling darkly as Jonathan struggles against the restraints.
“Not so powerful now, are you, Dr. Crane?” you laugh, knowing he didn’t like you calling him by his professional name, “You look so pathetic, lying there with your poor cock out for us to see. Bet you wish one of us would touch it for you, hmm?”
Jonathan stays silent, his eyes boring into yours as he yanks his arms, testing the rope’s strength. He realizes he truly can’t move or speak and that he’s entirely at you and Bruce’s mercy. Not the worst position to be in, Jonathan thinks.
“Which of us should do the honors?” you ask Bruce, a playful smile on your face.
It isn’t often Bruce gets to mess with the other man during your experimental sexual encounters. Still, you figure this is personal enough for him to want to be involved.
“You can take this one. I’ve got other plans,” Bruce says, smirking deviously.
“Oh really?” you grin, “I’m excited to see those.”
You climb back on the bed, moving toward Jonathan’s lap, where his weeping cock is getting redder by the second. Grabbing the base of it, you move it forward enough for it to meet your lips. You lap your tongue on Jonathan’s tip, smearing the precum around before licking a stripe up his entire length. You pull away, letting his cock slap painfully against his stomach again. You harshly grip Jonathan’s balls, causing him to cry out muffled. You massage them as you take his length into your mouth, bobbing your head as you continue to take him in entirely. You press your breasts into the bed, letting your ass be exposed for Bruce to take advantage of as you suck off Jonathan. Bruce wastes no time walking over to you, letting his hands run over your asscheeks before he pulls your pretty black underwear off. Bruce dips his head down to flatten his tongue against your wet slit, gathering your arousal as he swirls it around your cunt. You moan around Jonathan’s cock, causing him to twitch.
“God, I love this pussy,” Bruce pants against you, “Too bad you can’t get a taste, Crane.”
You peer your eyes up to Jonathan’s, his icy blue eyes now dark from his blown pupils. He’s glaring at Bruce, trying to regulate his breathing as his tip hits the back of your throat. Jonathan’s eyes roll into the back of his head as you fuck him with your mouth, letting his cock slam into your throat. Jonathan tries to thrust into your mouth, but you push his hips down against the mattress. You’re slobbering, and tears are streaming down your face as you take his length as much as you can, wanting him to get as close to cumming as possible. Bruce sucks your clit harshly, letting two fingers slip into your wet pussy. You groan, the vibrations sending Jonathan batty. You feel him getting close, and you blindly fumble around for the box of toys that still remains on the bed somewhere. You find it, pulling off Jonthan’s cock as it twitches uncontrollably. He growls as you find the toy you were looking for. You give Jonathan a few pumps, gripping his length as tight as you can, watching as the precum helplessly spills from him. Before Jonathan can react or cum, you slip a cock ring onto him, sliding it down to his base. He cries out from behind the ball gag, his chest heaving. You lay your head on his thigh, watching as his cock turns bright red. Bruce continues to eat you out, his teeth brushing against your clit occasionally, causing you to moan. Your breath hits Jonathan’s angry length, making him shiver. You look him in the eyes as Bruce adds a third finger, fucking into your g spot harshly as he bites at your bundle of nerves. You maintain eye contact with Jonathan as you cum, letting your nails dig into the soft flesh on his thighs.
“Lucky for me,” you trace Jonathan’s tip teasingly with your finger, catching your breath, “I get to cum as much as I want.”
Jonathan stares at you without making a sound, focusing on his breathing so he doesn’t explode into a fine mist from the overstimulation.
“Now it’s your turn since you’ve been a good boy,” you remove the ball gag from Jonathan’s mouth, licking up his spit from his lips before he can lick it off himself.
“Open your mouth,” you demand, and Jonathan does as told.
You gather his and your saliva in your mouth before spitting it onto his tongue.
“Now show me how good you are at eating pussy, Dr. Crane.”
You flip yourself around, hovering over Jonathan’s face as you slowly remove the cock ring. Bruce removes his button-up, laying down between Jonathan’s spread legs. Jonathan lets out a strangled cry at the feeling of Bruce’s hot mouth on his sensitive cock. You push your pulsing cunt onto Jonathan’s face, to which he happily starts lapping hungrily. You watch as Bruce hollows his cheeks around Jonathan, and the sight alone makes you even wetter than before.
“Fuck,” you mutter, Bruce’s eyes meeting yours.
You rock your hips against Jonathan’s tongue, urging him to continue. Jonathan wishes he could bury his fingers in your cunt, but he settles for his tongue instead. Twisting and pushing it inside you, he uses his nose to press against your clit, shaking his head. You grip Jonathan’s hair, cursing at the feeling of his tongue dragging in your walls and his nose flicking your bundle of nerves. You grasp your barely clothed breasts, letting your thumbs play with your nipples through the thin lace. Bruce moans around Jonathan while watching you, letting Jonathan fuck into his throat.
“Wanna cum, you piece of shit?” Bruce pulls off Jonathan, who gasps a ‘yes,’ “Be careful what you ask for,” Bruce chuckles.
You plan on milking the doctor for all he’s got all night. You want him spent and begging for mercy. Anything to make him miserable.
Bruce takes Jonathan back into his mouth, bobbing up and down quickly and stroking what he won’t take into his mouth. Bruce allows Jonathan to buck his hips into his face. Jonathan lets out a pitiful cry as he cums in your husband’s mouth, white-hot spurts of seed shooting down Bruce’s throat. You feel Jonathan roll your clit between his teeth before sucking it between his lips as he rides his high. You growl, letting your self-control go out the window. You chase your own high, letting Jonathan torture and tease your bundle of nerves with his tongue and teeth until you finally release in his mouth. Jonathan slurps and suckles every drop of your arousal from your cunt, licking until you pull off him.
“Lucky for you,” you pant, beginning to untie the rope bound to Jonathan’s wrists, “This next part requires your cooperation. Promise you’ll behave?”
“Yes, Mrs. Wayne,” Jonathan nods.
You let Bruce finish untying the doctor as you discard your bra. You instruct Jonathan to move to the side, allowing you to lie down in his place. You demand that Jonathan climb on top of you. he does as told, and Bruce roughly pushes Jonthan’s face into your chest. You laugh at Bruce’s typical roughness, especially when it makes Jonathan look flustered. His ass is now in the air, revealed to Bruce.
“Have you ever been fucked in the ass like a good boy?” you ask Jonathan, your fingers in his hair.
He doesn’t look at you or respond.
“I’m asking you a question, Jonathaaan,” you say threateningly, your fingers now gripping his hair harshly as you lift his head for him to look at you.
“No,” Jonathan says breathlessly.
“Well, that’s about to change,” you say, “Any regrets about being smart-mouthed to me yet, Dr. Crane?”
Jonathan glares at you, panting as Bruce spreads his ass apart, “Not yet.”
“Good,” you smile, letting his head drop abc to your chest, “Now obey me and show me how much you’re enjoying this.”
You move Jonathan’s face, maneuvering his mouth to your hardened and sensitive nipple. Bruce takes some lube from the box he brought, smearing it against his fingers before teasing Jonathan’s asshole with the tip of his index finger. Jonathan keens around you, his body beginning to shake as Bruce slowly pushes a finger inside him. Jonathan sucks harshly on your nipple, gasping as your husband wiggles his finger inside his tight ass. He laps at your bud, focusing on trying to please you and taking Bruce’s long finger simultaneously. A second finger is added, stretching Jonathan further. The doctor lets out a sharp groan at the delectable burn. He attacks your other breast, letting his finger circle around the one he was just attached to. Bruce prods a third finger into Jonathan, and he lurches forward from the feeling of fullness.
“If you think you’re full now, just wait for Bruce’s fat cock, baby boy,” you taunt.
Bruce twists and curls his fingers inside Jonathan, doing his best to prep him for his unforgiving length. When he pulls his hand away, Jonathan gasps from the sudden emptiness. Bruce spreads his ass apart again, his slacks and underwear now discarded as his hardened cock pressed against Joanthan’s gaping hole. Jonathan whimpers around your nipple, pausing momentarily as Bruce slides himself into Jonathan.
“Fuck,” Jonathan shudders.
“You can stop now. I need you elsewhere,” you pull Jonathan’s head off your breasts, sneaking your hand between the two of you to his newly hardened cock, stroking it in your hand in time for Bruce to bottom out.
Jonathan whines, collapsing on your torso as the air leaves him.
“Tapped out already?” you pout, sticking your bottom lip out at Jonathan when you lift his head by his hair again, “Too fucking bad.”
Bruce then pulls out of Jonathan almost all the way before slamming back into him, his tip brushing against Jonathan’s prostate. Jonathan screams as you guide his cock between your slick folds, his body overstimulated. You let Jonathan weakly push his length inside your soaking cunt, your walls enveloping him immediately. Bruce wraps an arm around Jonathan’s chest, anchoring himself to the doctor. His other hand grips Jonathan’s hip with intensity. The feeling of Bruce pounding into Jonathan’s tight little ass affects you directly as Jonathan pushes deeper inside you every time Bruce thrusts into him. Soon, a rhythm is established, and you’re nearly in tears from pleasure as you watch Jonathan become a withering, crying mess underneath Bruce.
“Doing so good taking Bruce’s huge cock,” you praise Jonathan, bucking your hips with his every time he involuntarily moves forward, “You could at least try a little harder to fuck me like you want to, though.”
Jonathan’s forehead is teeming with sweat as he struggles to actually thrust into you while Bruce fucks into his prostate. You give him the benefit of the doubt- the first time getting fucked in the ass is intense. So you rock and swivel your hips on Jonathan’s cock roughly, letting him reach up to grab your breasts for leverage. He pinches your nipples, twisting them hard, sending electricity to your cunt. You pulse around Jonathan’s length, causing him to grunt miserably. Bruce’s hips are slapping onto Jonathan’s asscheeks loudly, and Jonathan’s cock twitches pitifully inside you.
“Cum, sweet thing,” you coax Jonathan, whose hair has long since lost its gel hold and has begun flopping into his face, “Cum inside me.”
Jonathan starts fucking into you the best he can, tears streaming down his face as he cums, a hoarse scream leaving his throat. Bruce is still fucking him without mercy, and you let Jonathan’s soft cock remain inside you as he whimpers helplessly, his hands gripping your sides.
“That’s it,” you praise him gently, “Let Batman fuck you silly like you deserve.”
Jonathan peers up at you, giving you the dirtiest look he can muster as you cackle, Bruce grunting as he cums inside Jonthan’s ass and on his back.
“Christ,” Bruce sighs, pushing his hair from his face as he winces, pulling out of Jonathan’s quivering asshole.
Jonathan collapses on top of you in a mess of sweat, tears, and cum. You let him catch his breath before sliding out from under him.
“One last thing, sweetie,” you say, your tone sugary, “Sit up on the bed for us.”
Jonathan weakly pushes himself up, flipping onto his back and laying his head on the pillows.
“Touch yourself,” you demand, sitting on your knees at the end of the bed beside Bruce, “I want you to cum until you can’t cum anymore.”
Jonathan opens his mouth to protest, but you motion for him to shush, to which he tiredly gives in. You dip your hand to your slick clit, swiping at it as Jonathan strokes his sensitive cock for you. Bruce watches you and Jonathan touch yourselves, unable to really get himself up again. He instead sits behind you, playing with your tits and rubbing his large hands on your hot, sticky skin. Bruce relishes in watching Jonathan fall apart as he looks away in embarrassment.
“Keep your eyes on me, Crane,” Bruce’s voice booms, making Jonathan jump.
Jonathan gulps, reluctantly keeping eye contact with Bruce as he bucks into his hand, moaning hoarsely as he gets close. He can’t help but think about how he was between the two of you, getting fucked by you and Bruce at the same time. With that, cum shoots from his overused cock onto his stomach, and he cries out in embarrassment when you demand he get off again.
You stay like that, letting Bruce replace your hand as you spread your legs further open to allow him to fuck you with his fingers. You bounce on them, moaning quietly as Jonathan fights to keep his eyes open, his wrist flicking to the best of his ability. The night goes on, and Jonathan eventually taps out, sobbing almost uncontrollably as he runs out of cum. You and Bruce give him time alone before slowly moving him to the shower, where you help him wash off. You and your husband also washed yourselves off, assisting Jonathan out of the shower when you were all done. He’s wrapped in a towel, wincing as he walks back to the bed and curls up under the covers. You follow suit, wrapping your arms around Jonathan and soothing him as he finally falls asleep. Bruce holds you from behind, sighing contently.
“Too bad it takes doing this to humble a villain,” Bruce jokes.
“And the fact I could help was exciting,” you chuckle, “I never get to fight criminals like you do.”
“Maybe you should. You’ve got the mouth for it. Your sass is unmatched,” Bruce buries his nose in your hair.
“Mmm, I think I’m good,” you say, stroking Jonathan’s hair out of his face, “One villain is enough for me, I think.”
You and Bruce quietly watch the evil, despicable fucker sleep soundly.
“Can we keep him?” you ask Bruce, to which he tries not to burst out laughing.
“So you can torture him more? Absolutely.”
“Awesome.”
taglist:
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AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS SO FUCKING HOT IH MY GODDDDD!!!
I think it’s an actual crime that there’s barely any fics about Ben Leonard and/or Chon McAlister on here.
SAVAGES (2012) dir. Oliver Stone
I’m going fucking feral. I need him so bad.
