BrownEyes

30s she/her ♌

[suprclark]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

— your carefully hidden secret relationship unravels in the most humiliating way possible. but the undeniable fact through it all was that eddie munson is terrible at pretending he isn’t in love with you. by the time the whole group figures it out, eddie’s already lost his ring, his dignity, and any hope of acting normal around you. . . but at least he gets to stop pretending you aren’t his.

💍 2.1k — eddie munson x fem!reader, fluff, secret relationship gone wrong ( right ), eddie munson yearns so hard it’s embarrassing, mutual pining even while dating, accidental coming out x4

request — [ by anonymous ] hii! i saw your cry for requests and im here to save the day 🦸‍♀️ can i req eddie and reader who are secretly dating and she's steve & robins friend so she's around the party a lot and they find out thru little things ( wearing one of his rings, talking like him, love curls theory 🫣 ) if you end up doing this, thank you sm!

author's note — okay hi first of all thank you so much to the lovely who requested this. and also thank you to everyone who’s sent in requests lately because wow. . . there are a lot and i see you and i appreciate you more than i can explain. anyways, requests are open. enjoy <3

masterlist : navigation

gif by @keery-joe | divider by @/lavendergalactic

Eddie Munson was exceptionally bad at secrets. Horrifically, painfully bad at them.

This was an objective truth, right up there with gravity and the fact that Wayne always knew when he was lying. Which made it deeply unfair that he was now in a secret relationship with you — someone who could kiss him breathless in a supply closet and then walk back out five minutes later like nothing had happened. Like your mouth hadn’t just been on his. Like his hands hadn’t still been shaking when you’d adjusted your shirt and told him to “act normal.”

Normal? Eddie Munson had never once acted normal in his entire life, and you expected him to start now?

The worst part in his opinion was that you were criminally good at pretending. At acting like Eddie was just. . . there. Someone you tolerated for Steve and Robin’s sake. Someone mildly annoying. Someone whose knee hadn’t been wedged between yours twenty minutes ago. Eddie, meanwhile, looked like a man actively resisting the urge to gnaw his own arm off.

Which was why Robin Buckley was currently psychoanalyzing him with narrowed eyes from behind the counter with the kind of look that made Eddie feel like confessing to crimes he hadn’t even committed yet. He slapped on a lopsided grin and gave her a little bow. “Buckley,” he said, hand to chest.

She rolled her eyes so hard he was pretty sure she saw her own brain, then turned back to the counter, organizing the stack of tapes you’d just dropped in her arms. Eddie sagged in relief and took a seat against the counter. Robin paused.

“. . . What do you need?” she asked without looking at him.

“Uh,” Eddie said, buying time. “Horror?”

She finally looked up. “You need horror?”

Eddie straightened, offended. “Wow. Love the confidence, Buckley.” He jerked his chin toward you. “Ask your coworker. I love horror.”

Robin’s brow arched. “Why would she know what you like?”

Words jammed up in Eddie's throat. “I— I mean—”

“Of course it’s because she’s the smartest and most emotionally evolved out of you three,” Dustin cut in at lightning speed, suddenly appearing at Eddie’s side and waving his hands vaguely between you, Steve, and Robin. “Like. Obviously.”

Robin gave Dustin a long, assessing look. “You and I have never really clicked, have we?”

“Uh,” Dustin drawled.

She stared at him another second, then huffed and disappeared into the storeroom.

Dustin leaned closer. “You owe me one,” he muttered.

Eddie exhaled and pointed at him. “I owe you several.”

Dustin grinned and wandered back to the rotating shelf.

Oh yes. Dustin Henderson was the only one who knew about you and Eddie. And it hadn’t been intentional. If Eddie had gotten to choose, he might’ve told Nancy — if only because he would have talked about you to her and she would just listen, not caring in the least. But the unfortunate incident had already occurred. You’d been over at the trailer. Dustin had, at that exact moment, decided to drop by unannounced. And well. He’d caught the two of you in a. . . compromising situation.

The secret had cost Eddie a science kit Dustin had been eyeing for weeks. Worth it, probably. Still unfortunate.

Eddie was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of your voice.

He turned just in time to see you leaning against the counter with Steve, who was pointing at the jacket slung comfortably over your shoulders. His jacket. The one Eddie distinctly remembered owning. The one that was very much not on his body anymore.

“Hey,” Steve said, squinting at you. “That’s not yours.”

You nervously laughed. “Wow. Gold stars for you, Steve.”

“No, I mean,” he laughed, scratching the back of his neck, “that’s not your style at all. Funny thing is,” He paused. “it is someone else’s style.”

And then, like the universe hated Eddie Munson personally, Steve turned to look at him like it was a genuine coincidence.

Steve’s smile faltered.

His eyes dropped to Eddie’s shoulders and to the absence of denim and patches. His eyes widened slowly, realization crashing in.

“Oh,” Steve said.

You and Eddie locked eyes. Yours went wide. Eddie’s probably fell out, he couldn't tell.

“Nope,” you said, clamping a hand over Steve’s mouth before he could finish that thought. You shook your head, your eyes begging, a little threatening, pleading all at once. Then you nodded sharply at Eddie like move, grabbed Steve by the arm, and hauled him toward the door.

Eddie scrambled after you, heart in his throat, while Dustin looked up from the rotating shelf just in time to see the three of you disappear outside.

“Wow,” Dustin muttered to himself. “Science kit paid for itself already.”

You dragged Steve far enough that the neon glow of Family Video buzzed behind you, then finally yanked your hand away from his mouth. He sucked in a breath like he’d been underwater.

His eyes bounced between you and Eddie. “You two?” he blurted, voice cracking like a kid going through puberty again.

You shook your head on instinct at the exact same time Eddie nodded, helpless and completely incapable of lying when it came to you. Steve stared at the contradictory answers.

“What? Okay, hold on,” Steve said, backing up a step and pointing between you. “So that’s why you’ve been acting weird. And you,” he pointed at Eddie, who waved weakly, “you’re always acting weird so I didn’t notice anything.”

Eddie perked up. “Hey.”

Steve laughed suddenly, then stopped just as fast. “Wait. How long? And does anyone else know?”

You hesitated. Eddie didn’t. “A while and yes, Henderson knows. He kind of walked in when we were uh. . .” he drawled and thankfully Steve put up a hand.

“Wow,” he breathed. “Okay. Okay!” He straightened, visibly puffing up. “First of all? I figured it out. Me. Not Robin. Not Henderson. Me.”

Eddie scoffed. “I told you Henderson knows.”

Steve waved that off immediately. “Yeah, but he didn’t figure it out. That doesn’t count. That’s like. . . accidental knowledge. I solved it. I’m a genius.” He pointed at his own head. “Brain like a steel trap.”

Before either of you could react, Steve stepped forward and wrapped both of you into a hug. You stiffened in surprise as Eddie froze entirely, arms hovering uselessly at his sides like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“Oh,” Eddie muttered, patting Steve’s back awkwardly. “There there, Harrington.”

Steve pulled back just enough to give him a look. “This guy. Seriously?”

Something in Eddie’s chest suddenly unlocked as he had a quick realization. If Steve knew then that meant Eddie could finally. . . He leaned in without thinking, instinct dragging him forward, nose brushing yours, heart thudding loud enough he was pretty sure Steve could hear it too.

“Hey, dude,” Steve said immediately. “I’m standing right here.”

Eddie froze mid-lean, eyes snapping open. “But, you know,” he said, like that explained everything.

Steve stared at him. “Yeah. I know. That does not mean I want to watch you two suck each other’s faces off outside my place of work.”

Eddie groaned, tipping his head back. “This is oppression.”

You laughed and patted Eddie’s chest in a traitorous way, like you weren’t the reason his brain had short-circuited entirely. Steve shook his head, lips twitching despite himself, and gave you both a lopsided, fond smile. He turned and headed for the door. You followed for exactly three steps.

Then you pivoted on your heel, grabbed Eddie by the front of his shirt, and kissed him. Eddie made a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a whimper and promptly melted, knees going weak.

When you pulled back, grinning, Eddie just stared at you, eyes blown wide, brain fully turned to static.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Yeah. I’m— I’m ruined.”

You squeezed his hand and slipped back toward the store before he could recover. Eddie stood there for a second longer, heart racing, smiling like an idiot, as he ticked off a second person off his list.

The third coming out came much faster than expected.

You had Nancy and Jonathan over for movie night from which Robin had bailed with a vague excuse about a headache that sounded suspiciously like people. You’d all piled onto the couch Somewhere around the halfway mark, you’d half-dozed off, cheek pressed into a pillow, brain blissfully empty.

You woke up to whisper-arguing.

Groggy and unconcerned, you brushed it off immediately. Nancy and Jonathan fought sometimes. You rolled over, eyes still closed when you heard Eddie’s voice.

“Oh shit,” you whispered, sitting bolt upright.

You scrambled off the couch, just in time to look toward the front door. Nancy stood with her hands planted on her hips. Jonathan stood beside her, looking sleepy. Eddie was trapped between them, glancing around, clearly assessing every possible exit — the door, the windows, maybe the floor could magically open up. Now would have been a great time for one of those demogorgons to come out.

“Hey,” you offered weakly.

“Hey? Hey?” Nancy repeated. “Would you care to explain this?” She pointed directly at Eddie.

You blinked. “That’s. . . Eddie.”

“Oh yes,” Nancy said flatly. “Thank you. That was exactly what I was asking.”

You winced. “There’s no way I’m getting out of this, is there?”

Jonathan shook his head. “Nope.”

What followed could only be described as an interrogation. Nancy was pacing the entire time as Jonathan offered Eddie some water who was answering far too honestly when directly addressed and clamming up the second she looked away. You tried to help. You really did. It did not help. At one point Nancy paused mid-lecture, eyes widening.

“Wait,” she said. “Steve figured it out before me?”

Eddie groaned quietly. You covered your face.

Eventually, Jonathan managed to steer Nancy toward the door, hand on her shoulder, murmuring reassurances and promises of later discussion. She shot one last suspicious look over her shoulder before leaving.

The door shut.

Eddie exhaled deeply which told you he’d been holding his breath for ten minutes straight. “She scares me,” he said faintly.

You nodded immediately. “Me too.”

The last coming out somehow managed to involve everyone.

It happened during one of the group’s meetings. Eddie was half-sprawled in a chair and you very pointedly sitting not next to him. Everything was fine.

Well, until you accidentally made a D&D reference.

Will’s head snapped up. “. . . Wait,” he said with narrowed eyes. “You hate D&D.”

You froze and shrugged, forcing a laugh. “I mean. I don’t hate it.”

Lucas squinted at you as he began assessing you and then his eyes dropped to your hand. “Is that a new ring?”

Your stomach dropped.

“I’ve actually seen that before,” he continued, leaning closer. “Eddie has the exact same one. Eddie, show her.”

All eyes turned to Eddie. He swallowed, then reluctantly held out his hand. The ring was gone.

Jonathan immediately tried to redirect the conversation so hard it almost qualified as cardio. Robin leaned forward, interest sparking.

“Hey, Munson,” she said. “Where’s your ring?”

Max’s eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

Everyone turned to her.

“They’re dating,” Max said, pointing wildly between you and Eddie. “They’re dating.”

“No!” You exclaimed before clearing your throat. “No. Eddie just. . . happened to give me his ring. Because I liked it.”

Max raised a brow at you which made you nervously twirl your hair.

Max gasped. “Oh my god—”

“Your hair is curly,” Mike cut in.

You deadpanned. “Yeah. I’ll tell you the secret later, Mikeala.”

Mike rolled his eyes as Max shot him a glare. “I was about to say that. Girls’ hair turns curly when they’re in love. See?” She gestured at her own hair. Lucas grinned proudly.

Across the room, Will and Jane exchanged a look.

“No,” Will said.

Everyone turned to them. “What now?” Dustin asked.

“Last week,” Will continued, “we saw her leaving Eddie’s trailer.”

Eddie spluttered. “Why are you snooping around my trailer, Byers?”

“We were going to Max’s house,” Jane said. “We thought we were hallucinating.”

Will nodded. “Because, well, she’s gorgeous. And you’re Eddie.”

Eddie paused. “. . . I’m not even gonna argue. That’s true.”

What followed was a long, exhausting debate with who almost caught them when. You exchanged a look with Eddie who had now been deemed the love coach by Max and Will for having to be able to get a girl like you while being like him.

Only Robin was quiet which was very unusual and mildly unsettled you. You nudged her when everyone got distracted by another argument. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

She sighed. “I just— I can’t believe the dingus figured it out before me.”

© suprclark . all rights are reserved. copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or works as your own is prohibited .

[munsonsmixtapes]

Don't Try to Help

Eddie x fem!reader

summary: Eddie is failing algebra and as much as he needs the help, he's most certainly not going to take it from you.

word count: 1.5k

When Eddie looks down at the grade of his most recent algebra test and starts to feel a little sick to his stomach. He looks around the classroom and everyone else seems to be really happy with their grades, congratulating each other on yet another job well done.

Admittedly, math has never been his best subject. All of the numbers jumble in his head and it makes it almost impossible to do all the work by himself. He knows that there’s nothing wrong with asking for help, but that’s just fucking embarrasing and he doesn’t want to admit that he’s struggling. He doesn’t want to appear weak. 

He flips the test over on his desk and puts his head down, feeling so defeated. If he could just get over himself and get someone to tutor him, he could get himself out of this mess. But he won’t. He’s going to continue like it’s not a problem because he doesn’t want the pity. 

There’s a light tap on his desk and when he looks up, a pair of pretty eyes are staring back at him, accompanied by a soft smile. You’ve sat in front of him all year and this is the one time he finally feels like he’s getting a good look at you. 

“Everything alright?” You ask, your voice soft and sweet. It almost sounds like you care that he’s upset which catches him off guard because everyone has decided that he’s not worth their time. It seems that you never got the memo. 

You’re being sweet and it’s making Eddie nervous. He doesn’t know how to respond because he’s never been good at talking to girls. Especially not pretty ones. 

“I’m good,” he nods, trying his best to play it off but he knows that you don’t believe him. 

“So what’d you get?” He says nothing, flipping over his test and feeling his heart as he stares down at the giant “F” in the top right corner in red marker. The longer he stares at it, the larger it gets, making him feel even worse about himself than he already does. 

You say nothing when you see his grade but he can see the gears turning in your head. To his surprise, you pick the test up and turn back around in your seat. Eddie leans forward, trying to get a glimpse of what you’re doing and sees that you’re comparing your answers and now he feels exposed. 

And when the bell rings, he watches you get up, leaving the classroom with his test. He doesn’t know why he cares so much that you have it but he does. He watches you flee the classroom, looking back at him with a little twinkle in your eye, seeing if he’ll chase you. 

He watches you head out the door, and just when he’s about to head out the door, a voice calls his name. He turns and there’s Mrs. Clarke, the typical disappointed look on her face that he's come to know very well. He doesn’t usually have time for this, but he especially doesn’t today. 

He watches the classroom empty as she sits at her desk, writing something down in her notebook. 

“What is going on with you, Eddie? I know that math isn’t your best subject, but this is just unacceptable.” He stands on the other side of her desk, head low, watching his hands shake because of how nervous he is that he’ll miss you. He also doesn’t have very much time because his uncle is waiting for him. 

“I know, Mrs. Clarke. I’ll try and do better.” He means it this time. He’s going to work harder and maybe he can convince one of his classmates to tutor him. Oh, who is kidding? There’s absolutely no way that will happen. 

“You’ve been saying that for months and I’m afraid that’s not going to cut it anymore. I noticed that you were talking to y/n this afternoon. She is my best student and has agreed to tutor you.” 

“I don’t need any tutoring.” He knows that he does, but he just feels like it’s a form of pity and Eddie hates nothing more than being pitied. 

“Your grade in this class says otherwise. I’m not going to force you to take her up on it but I highly suggest it.” 

“I’ll think about it. Now I really have to go, Mrs. Clarke.” It’s already five past and he hates to keep Wayne waiting. He can hear the clock on the wall behind Mrs. Clark tick, tick, ticking and it’s making him even more anxious.

“I’ll see you on Monday. I expect you to have made your decision by then.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nods and hurries out the door, racing down the hallway. It’s empty now except for a few stragglers and he’s not surprised when you’re nowhere to be found. You’re long gone by now, surely laughing at his test and how stupid you think he is. 

He doesn’t really think that low of you, though. Acting as if you’re like the rest just makes things easier. If he believes as such, then he won’t feel like he has the right to befriend you which means that he won’t get hurt. It’s just what he does to protect himself and nothing is going to change that.

Even when he sees your bright smile when you approach him as he gets to the doors that lead to the parking lot. You follow him as he steps outside, practically skipping behind and the way that you’re so upbeat is already giving him a headache. 

The sun is shining and for the first time in months, you can actually feel its warmth which puts you in an even better mood. Eddie still seems to be sour but you think your proposition will change that.

You haven’t actually talked to him until today but you’ve seen him around since elementary school, his head always low. You’ve seen him sit alone most of the time and regret not asking him to sit with you. Maybe you’ll do that on Monday. And maybe for once you won’t care what anyone thinks. 

You know that he’s not scary like everyone wants you to believe. He’s just misunderstood and you think you want to get to know him better. That is, if he’ll let you, but you don’t think he will. He seems to like to be alone unless he’s with his friends that he plays that game with.

“Here’s your test,” you hold it out to him and when he takes it he sees that you didn’t do anything with it like he thought you would. “Sorry, Mrs. Clarke asked me to look it over and I should have asked before I took it.” 

“It’s fine.” He remains a man of few words but you think you like it. He’s so different from the other boys you’ve talked to.

“So, are we on for tutoring, then?” He’s picked up his pace and you match it, somehow able to keep up. You’re well aware that he’s trying to get away from you but you like pushing his buttons.

“No.” 

“No?”

“No.” You stop when he gets to the van that you assume is his ride and can’t seem to get in the passenger seat quick enough. If you weren’t mistaken, you’d say that he was afraid of you and not the other way around like it should be. 

“Well, okay. But if you change your mind-” You sentence it cut off by the door slamming closed and you’re left in the parking lot by yourself as the van drives off. Well, so much for trying to be nice. 

Eddie stares out the window, trying his best to wipe you out of his mind while also trying to not feel guilty about how rude he was. He’s just trying to protect himself and hopes you don’t take it too personally. 

He’s just waiting to get an earful from Wayne because the man is predictable and he knows that he’s gonna be in trouble. He didn’t mean to slam the door in your face but you just talk so fucking much and he hates it. Or rather, hates that he doesn’t hate it. 

“So who was that?” Wayne finally breaks the silence and Eddie presses his forehead against the window, already so over the day. He just wants to go home and pretend that he never met you. 

“Nobody,” he shakes his head, deciding right then and there that he doesn’t need a tutor, especially not when you’re the one who will be tutoring him. 

The van falls silent again as Wayne takes the hint, smiling to himself because he thinks that his nephew might have a little crush. And for once, he’s not going to say anything about it, not wanting to embarrass the kid. This is between you and Eddie and no one else. And Wayne is just going to have to be okay with that.

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[ohdearfawn]

Better Than Him | Eddie Munson

Pairing: Roommate!Eddie Munson x Reader  // Masterlist

Summary: Another breakup means another excuse for Eddie to show exactly how much better he can make you feel

Content warnings: MDNI +18, smut, oral (f!recieving), fingering, mutiple orgasms, rough sex, drug mention (weed), cursing, eddie being possessive

Wc: 604

Author's Note: another roommate eddie cause i may be obsessed, requests r open :)

You and your boyfriend had been off and on for months. He hated that Eddie lived with you, but you couldn’t see why it was wrong—or why it bothered him so much. Eddie was a great roommate. 

Sometimes, too great. 

Your boyfriend had come over earlier and you broke up with him again. Eddie had accidentally overheard the entire thing, and when the front door slammed, he made his way to your room to comfort you.

But somehow, in between the words and touches, Eddie ended up between your legs. 

His grip is firm, fingers pressing into your thighs as his mouth devours you. You’ve already fallen apart once on his tongue, but he doesn’t slow down. If anything, he grows more feral as if he has something to prove.

Judging by the way your hands claw at the headboard, the way your body trembles above him, the point was lost awhile ago.

Your legs tighten around him as another wave crashes through you, stealing the air from your lungs. You go slack, sensitive and shaking.

He eases you back gently, guiding you down onto the bed. His fingers linger across your skin. 

“You’re doing so good, angel. That was so good.”

Your eyes are glazed over but you hum acknowledging him. 

“You think you’ve got one more in you?”

Your chest rises and falls shakily at the thought. “Y-yeah.”

That’s all he needs. He spreads your legs again, dragging himself slowly through your slick folds, watching your reaction like he’s studying something precious.

“If it’s too much, tell me, and we can stop, alright?”

You nod, a shaky smile tugging at your lips. “Never too much.”

He grins darkly, then drives himself inside you. Your back arches, walls stretching around him as he stills for a moment, letting you feel the weight of him. And then—he pulls back and slams forward again, burying himself over and over, each thrust consuming you completely.

Every moan that escapes your lips only feeds him. He leans closer, hair brushing your shoulder, eyes locked on yours as he fucks you harder, faster. The bed frame rattles against the wall, sheets twisting beneath you, and he doesn’t let up for a second.

“Fuck—you feel so good,” he growls, voice rough, teeth grazing your skin. “God—I can’t believe it. Do I make you feel better than he ever did?”

You don’t respond, breathless and lost, so he tugs your hair, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“Do I fuck you better than he ever could?”

Your head nods furiously, a stammered ‘yes’ escaping.

“Look at you, going dumb on my cock,” he growls, thrusts snapping hard into you. “So perfect. No one but me is ever gonna fuck you like this.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” you moan into the pillows as your third orgasm crashes toward you.

“Squeezing me so tight—you gonna cum for me?”

Before you can answer, your body shatters around him, walls clenching and convulsing. He buries himself fully, following you over the edge, and his release fills you, hot and overwhelming. He pulls out just enough to admire the mess he’s made, then scoops it up with his fingers and pushes it back inside.

“Mine,” he mutters under his breath, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “You’re so gorgeous.”

You release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and flip to cup his face, pressing your lips to his.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you mumble against him.

He pulls you close, arms wrapped tight around you. “Anytime, angel. You deserve to be treated right.”

Tangled together, you both drift off into a deep, peaceful sleep.

[xeddies-bbyx]

Wrong place, Right time ||

Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word count: 2.5k

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Roommate!Reader | Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Reader

Warnings: Smut, oral (f & m receiving) p in v sex, slight Dom!Eddie if you squint, mutual pining, slight fluff at the end.

Summary: Eddie and reader are house mates and one day Eddie walks in on her in lingerie and can’t bring himself to leave.

a/n: I have not written anything like this in years so am a bit rusty… if I have missed anything in warnings then please let me know! any feedback is happily welcome, as I venture back into my writing roots again… Best Friend!Eddie is a favourite of mine that literally never leaves my mind so had to get it out in words….

You and Eddie had been best friends for as long as you could remember

Despite your obvious differences, Eddie opted for mostly all black clothes, rarely seen without a band shirt and long dark curly hair and loud music playing at all times, that no matter how hard you tried, you did not enjoy. You, on the other hand, were mostly seen in soft pinks and whites with long blonde hair, which was often adorned with a bow, and constantly seen with your head stuck in a book, had become roommates a couple of years ago.

Eddie being the gentleman he was allowed you to decorate the apartment however you wanted, as long as he could do whatever he wanted in his room which you happily obliged.

Being roommates with Eddie was fun, being friends for so long made the whole move in enjoyable and you would not change it. Would you want to be more than that? Absolutely. But you could not tell Eddie that and risk ruining years of friendship.

All those mornings you were forced to face him fresh out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, hanging very low, no shirt on, hair wet and dripping down his chest as he asked if you wanted a coffee, it was torture.

It was a Saturday evening, you were lying on the sofa reading a book Nancy had let you borrow.

You thought you’d have the house to yourself. Eddie had mumbled about heading out to meet up with Dustin, grabbing food and would be home late. You nodded from the sofa, barely listening, just glad for the quiet evening alone.

When the front door shut behind him as he called out his goodbyes, you put your book down on the counter and slipped into your bedroom for the evening.

You had gone to the mall with Nancy and Robin for a much needed girls day last week, the girls knew about your crush on Eddie and were always trying to convince you to tell him how you felt. They had both convinced you to buy a new lingerie set to wear around the house in front of Eddie to get his reaction.

The bag had sat in the corner of your room all week. You didn’t have the guts to go through with their plan and wear them in front of Eddie, but that didn’t stop you from wearing them for your own enjoyment now did it?

Soft baby pink lace matching set of a bra and panties, it was delicate and almost too delicate for you to wear. It was not something you’d normally buy, but the girls had assured you that they were worth the purchase.

You slipped the set onto your body, the lace soft against your skin, you stood in front of the mirror and bit your lip while taking in your appearance.

The pink lace looked dainty on you but hugged your body in all the right places, the lace curved over your breasts and your hips, you turned slightly, studying your reflection, your fingertips skimming over the underwear. You don’t know how long you stood there for, unsure if you were trying to see if they looked good or whether you just wanted a confidence boost.

You didn’t hear the front door open or his footsteps come through the hall.

You just heard his voice as he opened your bedroom door “Did you save me any dinn-“

Eddie paused mid sentence.

You froze in front of the mirror.

Eddie stood still in the doorway, his hand still gripped to the handle. Eddie stared at you, his expression was blank before shifting to surprise and a slight excitement he couldn’t hide as he began to feel the crotch of his jeans tighten.

The room felt tiny and you were stuck between its walls.

“Eddie…” you breathed. Grabbing the hoodie from the end of your bed and putting it on as quickly as you could.

“I should’ve knocked..” Eddie said quietly.

“Yeah” you muttered.

Eddie should have left then, closing the door behind him and never addressing this ever again. But he doesn’t move.

Eddie looks back up to you, his knuckles turning white from gripping the handle, his expression hard to read.

“I’m sorry” he said softly, “I didn’t mean to see you like this…” Eddie took a step forward.

You wrapped your arms around your waist to comfort yourself, you nodded slightly “I know Eddie, it’s ok…”

Another beat passed, long enough for both of you to be aware of the awkward tension and silence between you.

Barely above a whisper he said “You looked good.”

You looked up at him, his jaw was tense and he was playing with the rings on his hand, which you knew was a nervous tic of his.

Your brain was spinning and heart was thumping so hard against your chest, you were convinced Eddie could hear it in the silence. “You should go…” you whispered.

“Yeah I guess I should.” But neither of you moved straight away.

Eddie looked away, looking like he was contemplating something, before he walked over to you and backed you into the wall behind you, his hands wandering close to the hem of your hoodie.

“Eds… we shouldn’t d-” you warned shyly, Eddie cut you off and grabbed you by the back of the neck and smashed his lips to yours.

The kiss was heated and desperate, like it was a let out for years of built up feelings and tension.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop right now”

You couldn’t fathom a sentence, so you grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him back towards you, placing your lips back to his.

Eddie continued kissing you, pulling away briefly to pull your hoodie over your head.

Eddie paused, looking you up and down before making eye contact again “You look beautiful”

His mouth made its way back to yours, your hands running up into his hair, bringing soft whimpers out of him, deepening the kiss. Eddie continued to kiss down your jaw and neck, sucking a mark just below your collarbone. Eddie moves his hands behind your back and unclasps the lace bra pulling away from you to allow it to drop to the floor.

The sensation was overwhelming, Eddie’s mouth started to work on one nipple while his ringed fingers pinched the other, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. “Oh god, Eddie” you gasped, your back arching away from the wall and into him, your hands tangling further into his hair.

Eddie’s mouth switched sides as his free hand slid down to your lace underwear, rubbing slow circles on your clit. You could tell that the pink lace was turning darker from how wet you were already “You’re soaked baby, is this all for me?” You hummed in response as Eddie slipped a finger beneath your panties, tracing along your wet folds and his movements started to quicken.

Eddie pulled back slightly, and you whined at the loss of contact. Eddie chuckled under his breath before he lowered to his knees in front of you. He slowly allowed his hands to roam your body, as if he was trying to memorise every curve, his cool rings leaving goosebumps where they touched. Once his hands reached the band of your panties he dragged them down your legs before throwing them on the floor behind him.

Eddie looked up at you from the floor, his eyes darkened as he took you in, you could feel his breath against your thighs as he left feather light kisses, then his mouth was on you as his tongue flicked against your clit with precise strokes. You let out a moan and your head falls back against the wall.

The pleasure was overwhelming as his tongue lapped between your folds, tasting every inch of you. Eddie pulled away slightly and breathed “I’ve wanted to taste you for so long” before you could ask him what he meant, his mouth returned back to you, sucking hard on your clit as he slid two fingers inside, curling them to hit at your sensitive spot deep within. You cried out, your back arching off the wall as your hips started to grind against his face. “Oh fuck, Eds, please don’t stop” you moaned as your hands fisted tighter into his dark brown curls. Eddie continued to work you endlessly, his tongue circling your sensitive bud while his fingers pumped into you.

You could feel yourself getting close, Eddie pulled back before you could get there leaving you to whimper at the sudden loss. Eddie grinned “Not yet, sweetheart” Eddie stood up, his eyes darker than you had ever seen and his lips were glistening from your juices. Eddie kissed you again, and you could taste yourself as his tongue explored your mouth.

You couldn’t take it anymore, your body was craving more, you pushed Eddie back slightly, breaking away from his lips once again. You played with the hem of his shirt and he pulled it over his head. Your hands moved to fumble with the band of his jeans “Take these off” you pleaded, and he complied. Shoving them down along with his boxers, his cock springing free, thick and long, the head glistening from pre-cum. You pushed him slightly backing him onto the bed, Eddie sat on the edge as you lowered yourself in front of him taking in his size from where you were on the floor.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to” Eddie said. You smiled up at him “I want to Eds”. You wrapped your lips around his head before lowering yourself down, bobbing your head up and down slowly, licking a line up the base of his cock before taking him back into your mouth again, your hand wrapped around what you could not fit in your mouth, feeling him twitch against your tongue, as he hissed, eyes rolling back before focusing back on your movements.

“That feels amazing sweetheart, but if you keep that up, I’m not going to last much longer” Eddie warned as he pulled you up and laid you down on the bed.

Eddie hovered over you, his arms pinning either side of your head. His hair falling over you and tickling the sides of your face, as his body pressed into you against the mattress. Eddie’s lips found yours again, slower this time, as if to remember every moment of your lips against his, as he rubbed his cock between your folds, his head nudging at your bud.

“Are you sure?” his voice soft as he looked you in the eyes, “I’m sure Eds” you nodded as you head fell back against the pillows. Eddie lined himself up at your entrance before slowly thrusting into you, going in inch by inch. You gasped as how full he made you feel, Eddie began to move in and out of you quicker when he felt you relax. Eddie was so big and filled you completely in the most breathtaking way. Every thrust stretching you and hitting you deeper and deeper, making your toes curl as you wrap your legs around Eddie’s waist pulling him even closer to you.

“Fuck sweets, you feel amazing” he groaned, each thrust as powerful as the last, taking your breath away. He leaned down, capturing you in for another sensual kiss as he drove into you harder.

“Eddie, more please” you begged as you raked your nails down his back leaving red marks in their wake. Eddie pulled out, quickly flipping you over onto your hand and knees. Hands rough on your ass, spreading you open. “If you want more, I’ll give you more” he groaned as he entered you again from behind. The friction was delicious, his cock sliding in and out of you as he thrust even deeper, you could feel every ridge and every vein as he plunged into you from behind, your breasts bouncing with each thrust.

Eddie reached his hand around the base of your throat and pulled you up back into him as he sucked the nape of your neck, hand still wrapped around your throat in a possessive way. Eddie’s spare hand worked its way around to find your clit again, rubbing quick tight circles to your bud, the pressure building in your stomach.

Eddie whispered into your ear “Cum for me sweetheart, want to feel you release over my cock”

This was all it took, your orgasm hit you like a wave, your pussy clenching around his cock as you let out something close to a pornographic moan as you screamed out his name. He came soon after as he buried himself in you, hot ropes of cum filling you up as he groaned deeply in your ear.

Eddie’s hand left your throat as he pulled away and slowly pulled out of you, both wincing at the loss. Both panting heavily as you lay next to each other on the bed.

“Eddie?” You asked, your voice coming out softer than you intended

“Yeah sweets?” He asked back, turning to face you, “What did you mean when you said you wanted that for so long..” you could not stop thinking about what he had said earlier.

“Well, it’s exactly as you think I meant, I’ve wanted you for the longest time and thought about you like this for years, just always been too scared to act on it, but seeing you in that lace set, you looked so god damn perfect, I couldn’t resist it anymore…” he replied as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You bit your lip nervously, a slight grin forming on your lips, “Nancy and Robin made me buy the set to wear around the house to get you to make a move on me after they became fed up of my constant crushing on you, but I’d been too nervous to actually wear it in front of you until you walked in on me today”

Eddie smirked as he pulled you by the waist closer to him, “Well I’m glad I walked in on you, but for the record if you had walked around the house looking like that. My hands would have been on you within a second”

You giggled at Eddie’s comment, as he lifted your chin up towards him slightly planting a delicate kiss to your lips.

You looked away from Eddie, biting your bottom lip nervously again, “We can go back to being friends now if you want…” you trailed off, too afraid to ask for what you really wanted.

Eddie turned you to face him again “We are never going back to friends after tonight, you’re mine now sweetheart.” Eddie smirked as he pulled you back into him and you lay your head against his chest. Eddie pulled the sheets over the both of your naked bodies as you both drifted into a comfortable sleep tangled up in one another.

[purrsforeddie]

also not a big fan?? (actually not even a fan at all) of

perverted Eddie

like

idk

i feel like if he accidentally walked in on you changing, even if you've been married for years—for example, he'd get so embarrassed and immediately smack his hands over his face, his cheeks flaring in shades of red,

" I'm sorry! " He'd blurt

..

" Eddie we're married! " You reminded, slipping a shirt on,

" I know but you deserve privacy- " He added quietly,

You shook your head, laughing lightly,

" It's safe, " You reassured, tossing the dirty clothes in the hamper

Eddie's fingers split, his eyes peeking through, peering at you. He noted you dressed in one of his shirts. Eddie removed his hands slowly but then began to use his hair, his dark curls being lightly pulled up to his face to try and still slightly hide,

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, offering a smile,

Eddie was grinning like mad under his hair curtain, his red cheeks becoming a little more prominent,

" You really are pretty, " Eddie whispered, as if it was the first time he admitted this and the other million times ceased to exist,

" And a pretty lady deserves her privacy, " He added with a slightly more lighthearted tone, dropping his hair and carefully closing the distance,

" Yeah? " You called out, collecting some other bits of strew clothes, but softening when you felt Eddie's hands plant carefully on your waist,

You raised a curious brow, but squeaked in tickles when feeling him nuzzle his nose into your shoulder, his hair tickling your face and neck,

" Yep, " He grunted, " A princess deserves respect, " He added lazily, his words breaking off into a yawn as his arms slithered around your waist completely,

" Is that so-? " You asked in your own yawn, suddenly growing drowsy as you haphazardly tossed the dirty clothes you collected into the hamper,

Eddie huffed, too sleepy to even speak as he began to sway with you in his arms. He gave a soft bite to your shoulder, his body already gravitating to the bed.

He pulled you with, his body collapsing onto the soft bed, you falling with and colliding with Eddie's frame.

Eddie grunted from you landing on him, but he didn't deter from collecting you close like a beloved plush and snuggling you close. You equally tangled yourself with him, you both not breaking stride to pass out.

It was only 2 p.m.

Oh well. That's a problem for later.

[loveshotzz]

Saturday Night’s Main Event. - One Shot

Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

Friends to lovers

Summary: Saturday nights were always reserved for you and Eddie. Sharing his love for WWF he won’t let you watch Saturday Nights Main Event with anyone else. After half a bottle of whisky and a wild match between Hulk Hogan and Randy Savage Eddie’s convinced he can do what they do. When he tries to prove it to you things get out of hand and feelings are revealed.

Author’s Note: This is purely self indulgent with my own love for the campy-ness of WWE, Still pretty new at writing fan fiction so comments, likes, and reblogs are always welcome! My requests are open and if i feel like i can do it I totally will. I’ll be writing part 7 of my series after this. Master list (light editing don’t mind my typos 🙈)

Warnings: This is long and this is diiirrrrtyyy. smutty smut smut with feels and fluff. Minors DO NOT ENTER!

Tag List: @emotionaldreamer @tayhar811 @eddiethesexy

Saturday nights were always reserved for you and Eddie.

Once he found out that you also had a deep love for WWF he wouldn’t let you watch The Main Event with anyone else. That’s how Saturday nights had become your favorite night of the week. Hellfire on Thursday’s always a close second, those were the nights you got your best friend to yourself. Those were the nights that made you realize how hopelessly in love you were with with the metal head. You’d never admit it out loud, hell you hardly could admit it to yourself. Eddie brought a comfort to you, a comfort you never wanted to lose. Love was messy and cruel and you knew, you just knew the hardships in life would break you two. That’s what happened to your parents so why wouldn’t it happen to you? Eddie’s at home life was just another testimony to add to your list of evidence. You were more then content with this little bubble you had built around you two, confident in your ability to hide your real feelings just sitting under the surface.

You blame Hulk Hogan and Jim Beam for tonight.

You two were always so high energy when you were together, especially on these nights. It was so easy for you to lose yourself in the matches with him, feeding off each other. There was never any embarrassment when you’d both be screaming at the TV or jumping from you seat when a finishing move blew your mind.

Eddie and you are Squeezed together on his love seat practically vibrating with excitement as The Warriors intro music starts playing. You try to ignore the heat of his thigh pressed tightly against yours. Cursing yourself for picking shorts today, something about his denim touching your bare skin was sending you into a silent frenzy.

“Alright kids, I’m heading out.” Wayne’s gruff voice breaks both your attentions from the TV. He can’t help but smirk at the excitement thats written all over your faces, happy his nephew had someone to spend what he knows are lonely nights with. Wayne could see clear as day the way you stared at his nephew but he was letting Eddie figure that out on his own.

“I promise I won’t let y/n burn the house down.” Eddie grins slinging an arm over you in what you thought was just a casual gesture, but as you feel his muscles start to constrict around your neck you don’t realize your in an arm chokehold till your eyes are face to face with the crotch of his black jeans.

“Eddie! Let me go asshole!” You immediately start fighting against his grasp needing to get out of this position immediately. Was the universe working against you tonight?

When you finally break free you give Eddie a shove before turning around to see his Uncle was already half way out the door chuckling to himself at the sight in front of him.

“It’s not her I’m worried about. it you she’s probably the only reason this place is still standing.” He teases lightly. “Be good.”

“Yeah, yeah get to work old man.” Eddie’s tone is exasperated but the playful glint in his eyes gives him away. You loved catching moments like this. The soft side of Eddie you would get on these nights is what made you realize the depth of your feelings for him, especially once he started to get soft on you.

When Wayne shuts the front door Eddie’s up almost immediately when he sees a commercial break, lightly jogging to his room. It’s not unlike him to surprise you with some kind of booze he had stashed under his bed, always whatever he could manage to swipe from the corner store. It was never the fact he was drinking he was trying to hide from his uncle it was the having to explain where he got it.

When he comes back there’s a shit eating grin spread across his face as he shakes the small handle of brown liquid, as he gets closer you realize its a bottle of Jim Beam.

“Jesus Christ Eddie, Jim Beam? I was expecting beer.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie takes his place next to you on the couch and you swear his legs are spread even wider as he leans back into his seat.

“It’s a special occasion sweetheart, it’s The Main Event before Wrestle Mania. I was scoping this out for days just for this.” Eddie’s looking at you like he can’t believe you’d expect anything else.

All you can think about is the fact that he just called you sweetheart. The pet names were new, you’d noticed he started casually sprinkling them in a few weeks ago. Princess, sweetheart, and now pretty girl. He dropped that one during the last campaign and if it wasn’t for the looks on the rest of the boys faces when the endearment left his lips you’d do your best to think nothing of it. But it was the only thing you thought about for the last two days.

“My mistake Munson, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” You tease snatching the bottle from his hand before twisting off the cap taking a swig, its warm going down your throat and when you meet Eddie’s eyes you don’t know if its the shot that’s making your insides turn to mush or the look he’s giving you.

“Just throwin’ em back huh?” Eddie grins grabbing the bottle from your hands, and you feel his calloused finger tips brush against yours. The light touch making your body react and you don’t understand what’s happening to your self control tonight.

“It’s the Main Event before Wrestlemania.” You counter back arching an eyebrow using his own logic against him.

“Touché, you got me there.” He winks before mimicking your previous actions, you can’t help but laugh at the sour face he makes after the bottle leaves his lips.

“God that is AWFUL!” He keeps smacking his mouth in hopes the bad taste will somehow leave his taste buds.

“It’ll get better as we keep going.” You giggle reaching out for his arm in reassurance. He tenses under your sudden touch, his big brown eyes look at your hand before making their way to your green ones. You can’t place what you see dancing behind his pupils when he licks his lips and they tug into a small smirk.

“Promise?” You swear he’s looking up at you from underneath his lashes. Was Eddie flirting with you?

The sound of Randy Savage’s intro music saves you from having to figure that out, your eyes darting back to the TV screen.

“Quit being a baby.” You finally settle on snatching the bottle from his ringed fingers again tipping it back, welcoming the harsh burn.

The excited energy from before finally returns to Eddie’s living room when Hulk Hogan makes his way into the ring, the show demanding the attention from both of you. You spend most of the match completely enthralled, passing the small handle back and fourth between each other. You don’t notice with the match having you both on the edge of your seat, also had you drink almost half the bottle. You definitely don’t notice how Eddie grips your knee every time there’s a close count out.

When Hulk Hogan finally gets Randy Savage to tap out Eddie’s grip on your knee is released as he stands up to whoop loudly, raising his fist in the air. His actions make his Iron Maiden shirt ride up slightly giving you a small glimpse of the happy trail on his stomach. The universe was definitely testing you tonight.

“What a fuckin’ match!” Eddie’s ecstatic when he turns around to look at you. His doe eyes are glossy and slightly blood shot, a result of the cheap liquor.

“Yeah, that was wild! The way that he picked him up and slammed him down like it was nothing?!” You can’t help but match his happiness when you finally gather the words to speak, Eddie and the whiskey making your brain fuzzy.

“You think I could do that? Like pick someone up like that?” He’s flexing his arm squeezing the muscle on his shoulder to try and gauge his physical abilities that way. You didn’t mean to laugh at him but you couldn’t stop it from bubbling out of your chest.

His brown eyes snap to you on the couch head thrown back gripping your stomach to try and regain control of yourself. Maybe if tears weren’t welling up in the corner of your eyes you would have noticed him position himself in front of you. It wasn’t until you felt the heat of his breath fan across your face that you opened your eyes enough to see him towering over you. His hands resting on either side of your hips on the couch caging you in.

“Are you laughing at me?” While the smirk on his face was menacing the look in his eyes show you slight nervousness. Almost enough to make you feel like maybe being this close has the same effect on him. You finally let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Why I would never! It’s completely believable for you to have the same athletic abilities as the WWF superstars Eddie.” Sarcasm is dripping from your words and his eyes narrow at you. The gesture makes your thighs press together.

You can feel his hands slowly make their way from the couch cushion before the heat of them are against your thighs. The squeeze he gives them is so gentle that your almost don’t know if it’s your imagination.

“You’re gonna regret those words pretty girl.”

Fuck. Pretty girl? Again?

Before you can react his grip tightens at the dip of your knees, and your being lifted off the couch. You knew Eddie was strong always having to watch him and Garett interrupt band practices with their impromptu play fights after taunting each other all day, but you didn’t think he was pick you up like a rag doll strong. The new knowledge goes straight between your legs.

You can’t help but squeal when you feel weight less for a second as he gives you a gentle toss up hooking his arms under your knees causing your legs to dangle on either side of his shoulders. His eyes are level with your stomach, the bottoms your breasts brush lightly against his forehead as your lean forward for balance, your fingers gripping into his waves for dear life.

“This isn’t TV Eddie, you need to put me down!” You try to sound serious but the uncontrollable laughter leaving your mouth doesn’t exactly sell it for you.

“Eddie The Banished has over zealous newcomer right where he wants her.” Eddie’s doing his best announcer voice as you feel his legs start to move you two towards the direction of his room. “It looks like yet again y/n’s mouth wrote a check her ass can’t cash.”

“I’m gonna beat your ass for real Eddie if you don’t put me down.” You tug at his hair a little harder to try and get his attention. When his eyes meet yours from between your legs you’re not prepared for the view from this angle, your body’s natural response to push your thighs together is stopped by his iron clad grip. You see something you couldn’t put your finger on flash over his face when he feels the movements of your legs and your cursing yourself for not having better control.

You don’t realize your falling until your back hits his mattress hard, almost knocking the air out of your lungs. Eddie’s laughing from between your legs, arms still loosely wrapped around just above your knees, his warm cheek is pressed against the smooth skin of your thigh. Your heart swelling at the pure joy that’s radiating off of him in this moment. You wanted to bottle it up and keep it for yourself for a rainy day.

“You almost killed us Munson, are you happy with yourself?” The smile on your own face threatening to break you in half.

He doesn’t move from his position after his laughter subsides, his grip on your legs tightening slightly before he responds.

“You know the maid didn’t clean my room today.” Referring to the combat boot he tripped on there’s a light tint of pink on his cheeks and your fingers twitch wanting to reach out.

That’s when you see the opportunity you couldn’t resist having positioned himself perfectly to use your favorite finishing move on him. His eyes go wide when he sees your thighs start to close in on his neck. He try’s to catch them before he can be trapped in but he’s too late.

“In a turn of events Eddie The Banished has been pinned by so called over zealous newcomer will he do the self respectful thing and tap out?” Mocking his announcers voice you tighten the muscles around his neck.

Of course Eddie doesn’t give in doing his best to try and break free, thrashing his head wildly against you. You’re too busy laughing at him that you don’t realize how close his movements have positioned his face to where you had only dreamed about him touching. The place he effects you the most. It’s when his nose accidentally runs the length of your covered folds that you notice, a load moan falling from your lips.

The silence that falls between you two is deafening and you wish you could somehow disappear into his mattress. When you go to release your hold on him his hands grip tighter to your thighs keeping them where they are, his nose runs along your length again this time with more pressure then before.

“Eddie.” Your voice is shaky when is comes out still trying to figure out if this was really happening or not, but then he does it again and your body shudders making you realize this isn’t a dream.

“Sweetheart, are you making a mess of your shorts for me?” Hearing Eddie talking to you like this sends another wave of arousal to your core.

“Open your eyes princess.” So lost in your thoughts you hadn’t realized you closed them.

When you finally open your eyes and look down the sight makes you bite down on your bottom lip another loud moan begging to come out. He’s rested between your plush thighs, the heat of his blown out stare makes you want to squirm, his tongue darts out licking along his bottom lip just inches away from your fluttering core. You can see his hips rutting lightly into his mattress needing the friction. He looks needy.

His fingers dig deeply into your warm skin “I said is this mess all over your shorts for me?”

Eddie’s dominant tone adds to the mess that’s building inside your panties, A fantasy of yours after you saw the handcuffs in his room. You’re mad that you’ve deprived yourself of the sight in front of you for so long, you don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on.

“Yes, Eddie.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Yes what?” He’s not happy with your simple answers having thought about this moment himself for years. He runs his tongue flat along the wet spot on your shorts causing you to throw your head back and your hips push forward chasing him.

“Yes, I’m soaking through my shorts for you Eddie. I’m always wet when I’m around you.” You finally confess looking back down at him your bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“That must’ve been really painful not being able to do anything about it huh?” He’s gentle with how he speaks but you can hear the condescending tone laced underneath it, he was getting off on how desperate you were for him. Still you can’t help it when you nod.

His finger tips trace down the length of the outside of your thighs until they hit the black denim of your shorts. They slide underneath the material squeezing tightly at the doughy flesh of your ass, groaning when he’s met with the lace trim of your panties.

“Lets get these off hm?”

Still only nodding, your voice leaving you Eddie makes quick work of the 4 metal buttons of your high waisted shorts his fingers curling around the top of them he pauses his eyes meeting yours.

“Are you sure you want to do this? You can tell me no and I’ll stop right now.”

Of course Eddie’s still making sure your comfortable, even seconds away from getting your pants off. You were a fucking goner.

“Are you sure you want to do this Eddie? I don’t think I can go back to normal after this.” You finally say wishing you could read his mind.

“I thought it was obvious.” He’s smiling so hard you can see the dimples in his cheeks “I’ve had a crush on you ever since you and your mom moved into the trailer park three years ago. If we do this, your gonna have to move away to get rid of me.”

“What if it doesn’t work out and we ruin everything? I can’t lose you Eddie.” All the reasons you’ve fought this for so long come rushing back to you now that the haze of lust has temporarily subsided.

Eddie pushes himself up, sliding his body against yours until you are both eye level with each other, still nestled between your legs. Propping himself up with one arm, his fingers reach out to brush the stray hairs from your worried face.

“I’ll always be here for you, even if life somehow fucks us up. I’ll never be able to stay away. Not for long.” the look in his eyes is so sincere that it almost brings tears to yours. “I love you.” He says the last part so quiet that you almost don’t hear it.

“I love you too Eddie, I always have.” Your confession comes out in a whisper and you can’t help but take his face in your hands crashing your lips into his. Finally giving into all of those years you fought against it. He doesn’t hesitate moving his lips against yours, his tongue begging for entrance licking at your bottom lip. Quickly granting him access you both moan into the kiss as it deepens. Both of you taking advantage of this opportunity to explore every inch of each other’s mouths trying to memorize exactly how it feels, Neither one of you wanting to forget any detail about this moment.

When you finally break away to catch your breath he makes quick work of the slope of your neck dragging with his wet lips across your skin, licking and biting at the soft flesh addicted to the sounds he elicits from you.

Your hands find their way to the bottom of his shirt, tugging gently silently begging for him to take it off. He sucks hard onto the sensitive spot behind your ear before pushing him self up on his knees. You watch with baited breath as his fingers curve under the hem up his shirt slowly dragging it up and over his wild curls. The view is even better then you could have ever imagined. His chest was smooth till it hit the happy trail you had gotten a glimpse of earlier and wanted to follow it, the demon head tattoo you had only ever seen the one time he flashed it to you at Hellfire was clear as day now. His pick necklace hanging above the dip of his neck. Pushing yourself up slightly you don’t stop yourself from reaching out this time, running your finger tips over the toned muscles of his abdomen watching them flex under your touch. Your nails drag through the rough hairs of his happy trail and it makes him suck his bottom lip between his teeth closing his eyes at the sensation.

“You’re so handsome Eddie.” You can’t help yourself as you eyes hungrily take in all the newly exposed parts of him.

When his eyes open there’s a look of adoration that dances inside them, he reaches out to cup your cheek in his hand, the cool of his rings biting into your hot skin.

“It’s your turn now pretty girl” His smile is gentle when his hand leaves you to join the other at the bottom of your shirt pulling it up. Eddie takes in an audible breath when he sees the black lace bra, he knows that it must match the lace he felt wrapped around your ass.

“Lace set y/n? Are you sure your plan wasn’t to seduce me tonight?” He can’t help but arch an eyebrow at you his grin turning lopsided.

Red takes over your neck and cheeks, you wouldn’t dare tell him that you made sure to wear a matching set anytime you knew you’d be alone with him. Despite your personal protests, you never wanted to not be prepared in case it ever happened. And now sitting here in front of him, you don’t regret your choices at all.

“Last time I checked you’re the one who wanted ‘wrestle’” you give him air quotes dodging his question.

Chuckling to himself Eddie shakes his head at you, his bangs falling messily in his face.

“Shut up, I’m trying to get you naked.” He teases pulling you against his chest, Taking advantage you start peppering your own open mouth kisses along the nape of his neck. His fingers tips brush against your back as he makes work of your bra clasps. Once he has them unhooked they ghost up your spine before gliding up to your straps, he takes his time pulling them down the curve of your shoulder. Bending down as he plants a soft kisses where the straps rested. His hair tickling the side of your cheek, you can feel how hard he is under his jeans.

“Let me see you.” His voice is low next to your ear and it makes you shiver.

You push yourself away from him leaving just enough space between you two for him to get a clear view as your bra falls away from you. Suddenly feeling vulnerable in nothing but your unbuttoned shorts, you’ve never been this exposed to Eddie. You can’t help but feel self conscious under his gaze as he greedily takes you in.

“Fuck - Sweetheart.” He lets out a loud breath through his nose. “Have you seen yourself in a mirror? Fucking perfect.”

Eddie’s words overwhelm you.

“Eddie, please just touch me. I need you.” Your voice shakes when you reach out for his hands bringing them to your breasts, your nipples hardening instantly under his touch.

His eyes close tightly when he feels how your body reacts to him a low growl leaving his chest. When his eyes open they are completely black and you can feel yourself dripping down your thigh, pressing them together desperate for some relief. Your words causing a shift in his demeanor.

“You need me huh baby?” His voice comes out like a purr as he bends down to capture one of your pert nipples in his mouth.

“Shit- Eddie!” You gasp as his tongue swirls around the hard bud before taking it between his teeth, your hands are buried in his hair holding him closer. When he’s finally satisfied with both he lets the one he’s working on fall from his mouth with a loud pop. His big doe eyes are almost unrecognizable when they meet yours, he looks like he’s ready to devour you and you can’t help the shudder that runs deep through your body. His hard on looks painful pressed against the zipper of his jeans and all you want to do is help him. Reaching out you cup the swollen bulge with one of your small hands, making him close his eyes at contact. He’s rock hard. A surge of confidence fills you knowing that you were the reason for how fucked out he was right now.

“Who’s got you so hard baby?” Its your turn to indulge in his torture.

He doesn’t give you any time to answer, grabbing your hips harshly twisting you around. With your back against his chest you can feel just how labored his breathing his. With out warning he ruts himself into your ass so hard you have to grab ahold of his bed frame in front of you to keep your balance a needy moan falling from your lips. You wanted him so bad.

His fingers dig into your sides begging to bruise your soft flesh pulling you flush against him, his lips trace down the shell of your ear and it makes you shiver.

“You know who’s got me this hard. Those fucking shorts had me readjusting all night.” His right had leaves its place on your hip and finds it way into your pants pushing past your underwear his fingers trace up your soaking entrance, his middle finger dipping lightly into your hole and you can’t help but flutter around him.

“Fuck, she wants me so bad she’s trying to suck me in pretty girl.” You can feel the proud smirk against your skin. “And she’s so fucking wet.”

You were starting to get impatient with how slow he was going, your body almost in pain with how turned on you were. Reaching behind, you do your best to undo the button of his jeans, when you succeed you shove desperately trying to get to what you want so badly. His hands are quick to leave their spot from teasing your entrance to grab your wrists, his grip is tight.

“Don’t just grab at me, use your words.” His tone I commanding and it adds to your desperation.

“I need you to fuck me Eddie. Please just fuck me.” The last part comes out as a whine and if you weren’t so lost in him you’d want to slap yourself for sounding so needy.

“Good girl, was that so hard?” You can feel the cockiness radiating off of him as you hear the jingles of his chains still giving you what you want shimmying out his pants. The weight of his dick hits the small of your back pre cum wetting your skin at contact. Your grip on his bed frame tightens a whimper leaving your mouth as you push yourself back against him needing more.

“Needy aren’t you?” He’s taunting as he nips at the skin of your shoulder blades, his hands making quick work of your shorts before he’s leaning back. “I just wanted to see these panties first pretty girl. You wear these for me?” All you can do is whimper pressing your thighs together tightly trying to relive some of the pressure against your swollen clit.

His fingers knead the fat of your ass cheek before spanking lightly testing the waters.

“I asked you a question. Did you wear these for me?” His lips are against your ear again and your feel him finally start to push the lace down your hips.

“Yes.” You bite your lip ready to confess to him what you swore you wouldn’t. “I wear them every time we hang out...just” You can’t finish your answer when you feel two of his fingers dip into you without warning. Your head falls back against his shoulder a loud moan echoing through his room as you feel yourself griping tightly at the slow motion of his fingers. He pushes them even deeper and you can feel the metal of his rings at your entrance, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream. He was so deep.

“Just what? Just in case you let me fuck you sweet heart? That’s so fucking cute.” He chuckles darkly in your ear removing his fingers from their place inside of you to draw figure eights on your swollen nub and your eyes roll in the back of your head.

Your grab of his hands stopping his motions tired of his teasing, you waited too long for this.

Twisting around you push with enough force to knock him on his back, the view of his hard on is even more intimidating from this angle. Eddie’s shocked expression immediately turns hungry when he sees you kick of your panties completely, he can see how wet you are from here. Its almost a reflex when he reaches out to wrap his fingers around himself for relief. A hiss leaving his mouth, sensitive to his own touch but his eyes never leave yours.

Crawling up him you let the tip of his cock run down the length of you before you rest yourself perching at his tip and it makes him throw his head back with his bottom lip tugged tight between his teeth a mental image he never wants to forget.

“Looks like I’m the one who pinned you Eddie The banished.” His eyes snap up at your words and before he can protest you take him in, completely bottom out.

“Jesus-fuck” Eddie screams, his fingers grabbing harshly to your waist, there’s a light sting of pain at his size but when you feel him twitch inside you it sends another wave of arousal through you coating him even more as you start to rock your hips. You hands are spread across his chest and you have a perfect view of his fucked out expression, his mouth is slightly open, eyebrows furrowed together in concentration and his eyelids heavy with lust.

“You feel so good Eddie. So big. So full.” Your hands leave his chest so you can move faster, his tip hitting your sweet spot and you’ve waited long enough to cum.

“You gonna cum princess?” His tone sounds sweet when he asks you and all you can do is nod feeing your self getting dangerously close to falling off the cliff you’d be climbing.

In the blink of an eye your high is ripped away from you, Eddie grabbing your hips firmly pulling himself out of you. Flipping you over Eddie rests himself between your spread legs his hard cock resting against your entrance. His pink mushroom tip hits your clit with every breath he takes and it makes you rock hips against him desperate to find your orgasm again.

“Over zealous new comer yet again gets herself into trouble with her smart mouth. Eddie The banished is in for the pin.”

Your eyes widen at realization of this words and just like you did to him he doesn’t give you anytime to answer before he’s bottoming out inside of you. Your scream is silent as he some how feels even bigger from this angle. Feeling generous Eddie gives you a minute before he pushes himself back up on his knees, hooking his arms under your thighs lifting your bottom half up with him. You are completely at his mercy from this position and you can feel your walls tighten around him again in anticipation.

“Will she do the respectable thing and tap out?” He arches and eye brow at you slowly twirling his hips and it feels so good.

Meeting Eddies’s eyes you push your hips up into him taking him deeper and it makes his eyes roll in the back of his head. “I’m not fucking tapping out, so why don’t you fuck me?”

You swear you hear him growl at your words, his grip tightening around your thighs as he begins thrusting into you hard and deliberate your tits hitting your chin with every stroke.

“Such a dirty fuckin’ mouth pretty girl. I’m gonna make you cum harder then you ever have and then you’ll learn to challenge me.” One of his hands reaches between your legs, his fingers find your clit and it makes your head fall back a low moan falling form your lips as his thrusts continue to hit that sweet spot inside of you once again.

Between his fingers working your swollen nub and the deep strokes of his cock you could feel the coil start to tighten in your stomach again. The only word you knew was his name, it’s the only thing that left your mouth as he continued never slowing down.

“Look at me, I wanna see your eyes when you cum, I can tell your close baby. Cover me, tell everyone who’s making you feel this good. Fuck all I’ve ever wanted was to see you cum.” Eddie’s words are dunk with lust as he watches your green eyes open and meet his. Your walls are sucking him in as you can feel yourself start to fall apart at his words.

“Fuck Eddie, I’m cumming.” You gasp as his tip hits at a slightly different angle, your mouth falls open as you watch his dark eyes hungrily devour you as your orgasm washes over you. The feeling of you coming undone around him makes Eddie’s orgasm dangerously close behind you, his thrusts getting sloppier as your walls continue to flutter around him.

“Shit- I’m gonna cum.” You can feel his grip loosen around your thighs to get ready to pull out and you clamp your legs around his arms so he can’t move still milking him, his eyes go wide at your actions

“I said I’m gonna cum, Shit-fuck I can’t stop.” His words come out as a whine as his eyes close tight his cock twitching inside of you before he’s painting your walls with himself. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of this feeling, thankful for birth control. Eddie’s body finally collapses on top of you still not daring to pull himself out, you both lay there for a second catching your breaths, with your arms wrapped around him you enjoy the feeling of being connected. Something about it makes you feel complete, like there was a piece of you that he held and you didn’t know how bad you needed it until now.

When Eddie finally breaks away from you he’s propping himself up on his forearms so he’s eye level with you, there’s a shit eating grin on his face and you know he’s about to ruin this moment.

“So I definitely won that match.”

You roll your eyes so hard you think they might get stuck in the back of your head.

“It was a no contest match sorry.” Your snort pushing him away but he doesn’t budge.

“Well, good thing your spending the night. I’m demanding a rematch, this is the beginning of a long feud pretty girl, I hope your ready.” Eddie’s still grinning as he bends down to capture your lips. The feeling of Eddie still inside of you and the love he was trying to convey to you in the way his lips moved against yours, you’re glad you didn’t have to fight it anymore because honestly it’s even better then you could of ever dreamed

[browneyes-8288]

Oh this was hott!!! And as a fellow WWE fan finding this on the night of the 2026 Royal rumble is 😘🤌🏻

[headkiss]

Hi!

I was wondering I could request an Eddie Munson blurb, where the reader has naturally pointed ears. I’ve thought about it and felt like our boy would be so fascinated by it, and call the reader a pixi/elf.

hi anon!! tysm for this request!! it reminded me of a scene from the cruel prince so i had to write it :,) | 0.6k of fluff!

Eddie’s room is messy. Not in a dirty way, just lived in.

His shirt from today flung over the lampshade on his nightstand from when he’d taken it off and been too lazy to move it. It dims the space, makes it feel warmer.

Other pieces of clothing are strung about, too. His jeans on the floor and jacket draped over a chair, your own pants forgotten by the foot of the bed. You’d both undressed, but not quickly, rushed with wanting and broken by kisses.

That happens often enough, but not always. Sometimes, it’s like tonight, slow and soft and layers only removed for comfort, to slip into bed and feel closer.

His guitar is nearby, leaning against the edge of the bed in case he needs it. There’s a notebook in Eddie’s lap, a pencil held loosely in his hand scribbling words out and adding others.

You can feel the vibrations in his chest every time Eddie hums from where you lean against him, ear pressed close to his heart. Your fingertips trace the tattoos on his stomach, the other hand tucked under you.

It’s the moments like this that feel the most important. The ones nobody really talks about when they’re in relationships. The ones where you’re just existing together, spaces carved out in each other’s lives for the other. A side of the bed now yours, a drawer in his dresser, a toothbrush next to his.

A set of keys in your purse, because you spend more time at the trailer than not. Wayne had been the one to give them to you, actually.

“What are you writing about?” you ask, the words out of view from the angle at which you’re laying. Eddie’s stomach jumps when you run a nail over the tattoo closest to the band of his boxers.

His free hand moves from your waist and up to your head, pushing your hair behind your ear and tracing its shape.

It distracts you, because for a long time, you sort of hated your ears. Hated that they were different, pointed where everyone else’s were curved.

“Eddie,” you huff when his thumb runs back and forth over the point. Lightly, reverently.

He leans up and sets his notebook and pencil onto the nightstand, slow, careful not to jostle you too much.

Then he’s folding himself over you, pressing little kisses to the top of your ear, then following it down to the lobe, pressing one more just underneath it before you shove him away with a gentle hand against his chest.

“What?” he asks you. Almost pouting, upset you’d spoiled his fun.

You shake your head at him, not wanting to say it out loud. It’s dumb, anyways.

But he knows you, so he tilts his head, sits you both up, uses both hands to hold your hair away from your face, from your ears. You stare at him, unimpressed.

“Don’t do that,” he tells you. “You know I love them.” Eddie’s hands are insistent in keeping your head up, but not harsh. Gentle but firm when you try to shake your head out of his grip. “Prettiest thing ever.”

“Okay, okay,” your hands come up to hold his wrists. “You can stop now.”

“You wanna know what I was writing about?”

“I know you’ll tell me either way.”

“Yup, I will, ‘cause I was writing about you.” One of his hands lets go of the side of your head to run a knuckle over your ear again. “My elf princess.”

“You were not.”

“I was too!” He lets go of you, and you of him, to grab his notebook, and sure enough, there are random lyrics strewn about the page about elven beauty and pixies and stuff like that. It’s ridiculous.

“The guys would hate this,” you say, but there’s a smile on your face. Ridiculous, yes, but stupidly sweet, too.

“It’s a good thing I’m the boss then.”

[elegantpaperoperatormaker]

I wanna hold it while he pees 😔 (his dih)

The way Eddie doesn’t even need to be asked tho…

“Come on, sweetheart.”

Your head pops up, turning to watch him walk toward the bedroom. “What?”

“Come on. Gotta go drain the dragon and I need your help.”

You snort, but get up and follow anyway. “Are your hands broken?”

“No, but your hands are softer. Feels like I’m pissing in luxury.”

“Alright, whatever.”

[lvrsnt]

london could we please get steve or eddie with flirt!reader? maybe she makes them all shy or something n its just cute and fluffy?

thanks for the ask !!! ( eddie munson x flirty!reader )

Eddie’s not shy, by any means.

Maybe he’s quietened over the years, dropped the bravado he used as a shield during high school and traded it for something a little more subtle, but shy is not a word he’d used to describe himself. Shy is more for his Uncle Wayne (or is reserved a better descriptor?) or the little kids who come into the record store for the first time, pockets full of cash. Shy is not an Eddie Munson associated word.

But he’s feeling it now, a little timid bubble growing in his stomach, a scratchy feeling tingling under his collar and the slow drying of his mouth. Eddie wants to crawl into your bedsheets and hide away from your gaze. Shyness creeps up from behind him, a surprise attack from an unknown entity.

You keep pulling back away from Eddie’s arms to get a better look at him, rising blush and all, drinking in all his features in your bedroom light. Your eyes burning the side of his face has him slightly antsy and he holds you there, tight and flush against his body so all you can see is his soft sleep shirt and the small TV set by the foot of your bed. 

You push at his chest again. “Eddie.”

His voice comes out strange, too pitchy and high at the end. He sounds unlike himself. “Yeah?” he says, strained, almost a whisper.

“Can you let me go?”

“D’you need to go to the bathroom?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t think so.”

You huff again, push some more and make a whining sound that heats up his belly. “Eddie.”

“Mhm?”

“Let me get a better look at you.”

You’re not too much, per say, Eddie would like to say that you’re the perfect amount of everything, but he thinks if you give him another one of your adoring looks he might sink into the bed Nightmare on Elm Street style. You’re unashamed in your doting and your affection is driving him fucking crazy.

He diverts. “So you don’t care about my movie?”

You know you don’t. He knows you don’t. You’ll watch it again later when you’re not too busy tracing the contours of his face with your eyes. “I do care, handsome, but I just want to get a good look at you.”

It’s in your nature to be a flirt. Eddie’s seen your antics with Nancy and your batted eyelashes at Steve, but your voice drips in a genuine honey that has Eddie’s skin crawling. This isn’t for fun and what you’re saying isn’t just a handful of throw away comments. Eddie summons all of his strength to meet your eyes.

You grin when he relents, fat and wide. “Look at this mole right here, baby,” you murmur, pointing at a spot at the side of his nose as you tilt his face towards you, “That’s a new one.” You blink up at him through your lashes and press a kiss to the mole.

Eddie thinks he might pass away. He jolts backwards, grabbing one of your lace pillows and forcing it over his red face. It smells like you too, you’re fucking unescapable.

He lets out a frustrated sound into the fabric. “You’re killing me here, beautiful girl,” he groans as you giggle over him, trying to wrestle the pillow from out of your view, “You sit here all pretty, don’t pay any attention to my movie and then you try to fucking kill me. Do you hate me, sweetheart?”

You finally manage to push the pillow away but not before Eddie rolls onto his belly, face down in your bedsheets with a “hmph!”

His inky dark hair creates a halo around his head and you tuck a strand behind his ear. “I don’t hate you, Eds.” you laugh.

Eddie shifts to the side, peeking at you with one chocolate brown eye. “I have a really big crush on you.”

You frown at him. “I couldn’t tell.”

He squeezes his eyes shut when you bend forward, hands on your knees as you kiss his temple. “You’re okay yourself.” you hum,

Eddie grins, shifting over so you can kiss the rest of his face. He giggles when your kisses become loud smacking sounds, each emphasised with their own mwah.

“Can you hug me?” he asks quietly, tattooed arms outstretched.

You pretend to think about it. “Are you sure you won’t keel over and die, honey?”

Eddie’s already pulling you close to his chest, cheeks ruddy as he sighs into your hair, heart pounding against your own. “We’ll see.”

[amylynnquinn1396]

Chapter 1.//Chapter 2.//…. Chapter 14.// Chapter 15.//Chapter 16.//Chapter 17. (Trying something a little different.)

Summary: Spring Break is almost over, and Eddie feels the weight of everything he’s been running from closing in. Trapped between the past he can’t shake and a future that feels just out of reach, he drifts through memories of school, family, and all the reasons he’s never quite fit in. When the noise of Hawkins becomes too much, Eddie retreats to the one place that’s always made him feel invisible—only to realize he isn’t as alone as he thought.

Author’s Note: This chapter was all about sitting with Eddie’s headspace — the waiting, the spiraling, the quiet kind of hurt that doesn’t explode but just… lingers. I wanted to slow everything down and let him exist in that in-between place: not moving forward, not going back, just stuck.

Skull Rock has always felt like Eddie’s sanctuary to me — the place he goes when he needs to disappear. So letting this chapter live there for a while felt important. This is Eddie stripped down to his thoughts, his fears, his memories… right before everything shifts.

Thank you for reading and staying with this story through the quiet moments

Word Count: 1,515 words

Disclaimer: This work is a Stranger Things fanfiction written for entertainment purposes only. All characters belong to their respective creators.

This chapter contains heavy emotional themes, including references to abandonment, substance use (smoking/drugs), and emotional distress.

Chapter 18. Where I Go to Disappear

Eddie’s POV

Spring Break is almost over.

That thought sits heavy in my chest as I stare at the ceiling of my trailer, one arm slung over my eyes, the morning light already too bright through the thin curtains. Almost time to go back to school. Almost time to do this all over again.

The trailer smells faintly like stale smoke and motor oil, the familiar creak of the metal frame settling as the day warms up. Somewhere outside, a car door slams. A dog barks. Life keeps moving, whether I’m ready or not.

Another year as a senior.

Again.

No surprise there. I stopped being surprised about it a long time ago.

The only reason I stayed back so many times was because I kept failing most of my classes. I stopped paying attention years ago—somewhere between realizing none of it felt like it mattered and realizing no one expected much from me anyway. Teachers stopped trying. Counselors stopped calling me in. I started sitting in the back, doodling lyrics and skulls in the margins of notebooks I never opened again.

I remember the looks they’d give me — that mix of disappointment and relief, like I was a problem they didn’t know how to solve but were secretly glad they didn’t have to try too hard with. Eddie Munson: write-off. Lost cause. Future statistic.

I wanted to quit. God, I wanted to quit so bad.

But my uncle made it clear: if I wanted a place to live, I stayed in school.

When they told me I’d have to repeat senior year again, I told him I’d just live in my van and be done with it. I meant it, too. The idea of still being stuck in Hawkins High made my skin crawl. Same lockers. Same hallways. Same whispers.

Funny thing is—if I hadn’t stayed, I wouldn’t have met Dustin. Or Lucas. Or Mike.

Hellfire wouldn’t exist.

So maybe it wasn’t all a waste.

Still… I’m hoping this year is it. I told Mike and Dustin they’d have to take over Hellfire once I was done. They acted like it was some huge honor, like I was handing over a crown instead of just finally getting the hell out.

Knowing my luck, though, I’ll still be stuck here.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve thought about leaving Hawkins. Just packing up and going wherever the road takes me. Maybe tracking down my mom. Seeing where she ended up. If she was smart, she would’ve left and never looked back.

Sometimes I imagine her in California. Or somewhere warm. Somewhere with loud music and sunlight and a life that didn’t feel like this.

Part of me always imagined she’d come back for me someday.

She didn’t.

I sit up with a groan, rubbing my face, trying not to let my thoughts spiral. Instead of calling (Y/n) again—because that feels like a bad idea waiting to happen—I grab the phone and dial Dustin’s number.

The cord twists around my fingers as it rings.

Once. Twice. Three times.

“Hello?” a woman answers.

Definitely not Dustin.

“Uh—hi,” I say, straightening a little even though she can’t see me. “This is Eddie Munson. Sorry—I was just wondering if I could talk to Dustin. Is he home?”

There’s a pause, then, “Oh! No, sweetheart, he actually just left.”

My stomach sinks.

“I think he went over to (Y/n)’s house.”

Of course he did.

“Right,” I say quickly. “Okay. Thanks.”

I hang up before she can say anything else, setting the receiver down a little harder than necessary.

I could call (Y/n).

I picture it for half a second — her voice on the other end, hesitant, warm, maybe surprised. Maybe annoyed. Maybe relieved.

I don’t.

Instead, I grab my jacket and head outside.

The trailer park is louder than usual—kids running around, bikes clattering over gravel, adults sitting in lawn chairs watching like this is all perfectly normal. I stand there for a second, letting the noise wash over me, and suddenly I’m not here anymore.

I’m three years old.

Or maybe four.

My parents are fighting again—voices raised, words I don’t understand but feel anyway. We’re in and out of places back then, crashing wherever we can. My dad stealing shit from cars at night, telling me it’s fine, telling me it’s how you survive.

I didn’t know it was wrong.

Not yet.

That’s when my mom left. Said she’d be back. Promised me she would.

I remember standing in the doorway, watching her walk away, her jacket too thin for the weather. I remember thinking she’d turn around any second.

She never did.

My dad told me she met someone else. That she was happier. That she’d come back eventually.

My uncle was furious when he found out my dad had said that—said giving a kid false hope was worse than the truth.

But I held onto it anyway.

Still do, if I’m honest.

“Hey, Eddie.”

I blink, snapping back into the present.

Max stands a few feet away, arms crossed loosely, studying me like she’s been there longer than I realized. Her skateboard is tucked under one arm, her expression softer than usual.

“Oh,” I say. “Hey.”

“You okay?” she asks, one eyebrow lifting. “You looked… somewhere else.”

“I’m fine,” I lie automatically, pulling a cigarette from my pack and lighting it.

She snorts. “Yeah. Sure.”

The smoke burns my lungs in a way that feels grounding.

I exhale and glance at her. “What’s up?”

“Just needed some air,” she says. “My mom’s been… drinking again. Crying. You know.”

Her voice trails off. She hugs herself tighter, staring at the ground.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I get that.”

We stand there for a second, quiet, the sounds of the park filling the space between us. She doesn’t push. She never really does.

“I was just thinking about my mom,” I admit finally. “She left when I was little. I keep wondering if she’s got a whole new family somewhere.”

That thought stings more than I let on, like a bruise I keep pressing just to make sure it still hurts.

Max nods slowly. “Sometimes I think about that too. Like… what it’d be like if things were different.”

I flick my cigarette to the ground and crush it under my boot. “Anyway. I was heading out.”

“Oh.” She hesitates. “Okay.”

She starts to walk off, but I catch up to her.

“Hey,” I say. “If you wanna come by later, you can. I’m not great at advice, but I’m a solid listener.”

I mean it. More than she probably knows.

She smiles—really smiles. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

We part ways, and I head for my van.

I sit there for a while before turning the key, hands resting on the steering wheel, knuckles white. The engine ticks softly as it cools, like it’s waiting for me to decide something.

Where do I even go?

I could leave Hawkins right now. Just drive until it disappears in the rearview mirror.

Or I could go to (Y/n)’s.

I imagine pulling up outside her house. Knocking. Saying something stupid. Something honest.

I do neither.

I drive.

No destination. Just the road.

The trees blur past, familiar turns taken on instinct. After almost an hour, I end up parked near Lover’s Lake. I don’t stay long. Too many memories there that don’t belong to me anymore.

Instead, I walk toward Skull Rock—my old hiding place.

The path is quieter than I remember. Leaves crunch under my boots. The air smells like damp earth and pine. When Skull Rock finally comes into view, something in my chest loosens, just a little.

I used to come out here with friends, back when Reefer Rick would sell us shitty weed that tasted like dirt and regret. We’d sit out here for hours, passing joints, laughing too loud, pretending we were untouchable. Pretending nothing could ever really get to us.

Sometimes I’d come alone.

This was where I disappeared when things got too loud. Too heavy.

I climb up onto the rock and sit, back pressed against the cool stone. Time stretches. The sun shifts overhead. I light a cigarette, then another. Then another.

Hours pass without me really noticing.

I think about Hellfire. About Dustin’s laugh. About Lucas trying too hard not to care. About Max pretending she’s tougher than she feels.

And about (Y/n).

Her voice. The way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention. The way she makes everything feel sharper and softer at the same time.

I wonder if she ever thinks about me the way I think about her.

The rock is cold beneath me now, the air sharper with the start of evening. My fingers smell like smoke. My head feels heavy.

This place always made me feel invisible.

Safe.

“Eddie.”

I freeze.

“What the hell…?”

I stand up, heart hammering, and look out toward the path.

Dustin. Lucas. Max.

And (Y/n).

Walking straight toward me.

How the hell did they find me out here?

[amylynnquinn1396]

Chapter 1.// Chapter 2.// Chapter 3.// Chapter 4.// Chapter 5.// Chapter 6.// Chapter 7.// Chapter 8.// Chapter 9.// Chapter 10.// Chapter 11.// Chapter 12.// Chapter 13.

Summary: From Eddie’s point of view, the almost-kiss lingers like a wound that won’t quite close. He stops himself before crossing a line he’s terrified of crossing, choosing distance over desire—even though it costs him. This chapter explores Eddie’s self-doubt, fear of hurting you, and the deep-rooted belief that he doesn’t deserve good things, all while his uncle Wayne sees through him completely.

Author’s Note: This chapter is about restraint—the kind that hurts worse than rejection. Eddie’s fear of becoming his father, of being a mistake, of ruining something good, keeps him frozen right at the edge of happiness. If it feels frustrating… that’s intentional. Slow burn means slow suffering.

Word Count: 1,347 words

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Stranger Things, created by the Duffer Brothers and owned by Netflix. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. While there is no explicit sexual content in this chapter, the story contains mature emotional themes and is intended for readers 18+.

Chapter 14. The Munson Curse

Eddie’s POV

I was going to do it.

I swear to God, I was.

It felt inevitable, like being pulled forward by something stronger than common sense—like a magnet locked onto another magnet, dragging me closer whether I wanted it to or not. Her lips were already parted, full and soft, her eyes drifting closed as she leaned in, trusting me. Letting herself believe this was about to happen.

And I was leaning in too.

Dammit.

No.

I can’t do this.

I want to. God, I want to so badly it almost hurts. But I can’t. I can’t be that guy who gets her hopes up when I don’t know how to follow through. I can’t be the reason she gets hurt.

So instead of kissing her—because I knew if I did, there’d be no undoing it—I stopped myself at the last second and whispered, barely loud enough to hear,

“Goodnight.”

(Y/n) froze.

She opened her eyes, and the embarrassment hit her all at once. I could see it immediately—the way her breath caught, the way she stiffened like she wished she could disappear right into the seat. She didn’t look angry. She looked mortified. Like she’d misread everything and wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

She didn’t say anything.

She just fumbled with the door, nearly tripping as she stumbled out of the van, hands shaking as she tried to get her footing. The awkwardness clung to the air between us, thick and heavy, and I hated myself for putting it there.

She hurried toward her house without looking back.

I stayed parked in her driveway for a few more minutes after she went inside, engine still running, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. I don’t even know what I was waiting for. Maybe I was hoping she’d come back out. Maybe I was hoping she’d laugh it off, knock on the window, tell me to stop being an idiot.

If she came back out, I wouldn’t reject her this time.

I wouldn’t stop myself.

But she didn’t.

And I don’t blame her.

She probably thinks I’m an asshole.

That’s fine.

Let her think that.

Everyone else does.

I’ve spent my whole life wearing that label anyway—loudmouth, freak, screwup, asshole. Sometimes I even lean into it. Makes it easier than trying to convince people I’m not.

Deep down, though, I’m not a bad guy. I wouldn’t hurt a fly. That’s the part no one ever seems to see. All because I like a fantasy game and loud music and refuse to fit into the neat little boxes Hawkins wants everyone in.

“Satanic Panic,” they call it.

Like we’re summoning demons and sacrificing goats instead of rolling dice and telling stories. People can believe whatever bullshit they want. Nobody really knows me except my friends—and even then, I barely see them anymore.

They’ve all got their own things now.

Lives. Plans.

I keep telling myself I’ll graduate this year and get the hell out of Hawkins. There’s nothing left for me here.

Except—

No.

Stop it, Eddie.

She’s not yours.

She never will be.

I finally sighed, put the van in gear, and backed out of her driveway. As I drove, I cranked the radio up loud enough to drown out my thoughts. Metallica’s Master of Puppets blasted through the speakers, the opening riff instantly familiar.

I know this song like the back of my hand. Learned it in a few days. Can play it in my sleep.

Does she even know I play guitar?

No. Of course she doesn’t.

I didn’t tell her much of anything.

Probably for the best.

When I got home, I went straight to my room, grabbed my guitar, and started playing Master of Puppets, fingers flying over the strings. It was late—early, really—and I knew Uncle Wayne was probably asleep, but that didn’t stop me.

If the neighbors complained, they’d complain to him, and he’d lecture me for an hour, maybe two. Same shit, different day. People always go to my uncle when I do something they don’t like.

I don’t care.

Once I finish school, I’m gone.

California sounds nice. I’ve thought about it more than once. Maybe I could get a record deal. Maybe I could finally be someone.

Who am I kidding?

I’ll probably never leave. I’ll die in Hawkins, just another story people tell about the freak who never amounted to anything.

For a moment, I even considered packing up the van and leaving right then. Just disappearing without telling anyone. No goodbyes. No looking back.

But that would mean leaving (Y/n) behind.

And even if there was never going to be a future for us, the thought of never seeing her again made my chest ache.

Maybe I should just avoid her for the rest of the school year.

Shit.

And then there’s that deal Dustin made. That butthead still owes me.

I strummed my guitar a little longer until a knock came at my door.

“Yeah?” I called, setting the guitar down.

Uncle Wayne opened the door, looking half asleep and not even trying to hide how annoyed he was.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “I gotta be up for work in another hour. You know what—” He waved his hand. “Never mind. I’m awake now. Your ass is making breakfast.”

I glanced at the clock.

Five in the morning.

Jesus. Time really got away from me.

“Hello!” Wayne waved a hand in front of my face.

“What?” I snapped out of it.

“Make breakfast.”

I nodded and dragged myself into the kitchen. There wasn’t much food in the fridge, but there was enough. That’s when I realized I hadn’t eaten anything at Rick’s like I said I would. My stomach growled.

“I guess I’m making breakfast,” I muttered.

I fried some bacon, scrambled eggs, toasted bread. Nothing fancy. Just food. When it was done, I filled two plates and brought them into the living room.

“Smells good,” Wayne said, buttoning his shirt.

“Hey, Uncle Wayne—” I started, but he stopped me.

“I know. You’re sorry. It’s fine.” He kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “So… how was your game or whatever it is?”

“It was fine,” I said.

Truth was, all I could think about was (Y/n). She’d been on my mind nonstop. The way her hips sway when she walks. The way her ass fills out her jeans.

Stop it.

I carried the plates over and sat beside him. We ate in silence for a while before he spoke again.

“How is (Y/n)?”

I froze mid-chew.

Just hearing her name was enough to make my body react.

“She’s fine,” I said quickly.

“That’s good.”

I got up to grab drinks. The only thing in the fridge was beer. Screw it. I handed one to Wayne and opened mine.

“Did you sleep with her?”

I choked, beer spraying everywhere as I coughed.

“Jesus Christ, no!”

“I’m just asking,” he said, holding his hands up. “You know I want you to be careful. And I know you like her—”

“Stop,” I cut in. “I don’t like her. Why would I like her? She’s not—she’s—”

Why am I rambling?

Wayne nodded knowingly. “That’s what I thought. You like her. So stop being a damn idiot and ask her out.”

“I don’t,” I muttered.

Or do I?

“Keep telling yourself that,” he said, patting my shoulder. “One day you’ll admit it. And by then, it might be too late. She’ll find someone who will actually care about her.”

“That’s fine,” I snapped. “Let her.”

It wasn’t true. The thought of another guy touching her made my blood boil. Just last night, Dustin had put his hand on her arm, and I’d wanted to rip it away.

“Eddie,” Wayne said gently, “she’s into you. Anyone with eyes can see that.”

“Whatever.”

“You’re stubborn. Just like your daddy.”

That one hit hard.

I hate being compared to him.

Maybe being a Munson really is a curse.

Lately, it sure feels like one.

[pervertedreams]

i’m thinking abt eddie using the tip of one of his rings to rub against your clit.. yeah

not proofread. minors dni

it feels like he’s been at it for a lifetime, regardless off the complaint; you don’t want it to end. your slump against a headboard, knees nearly pushed up to your chest, and you’re desperately latching onto your thighs mainly for grounding.

the metal is hard and cold, his middle finger isolated from the rest. his hand balled into a fist, knuckle subtly circling so his ring can softly nudge against you clit. the way the ring nudges under the hood makes you embarrassingly clench around nothing and he notices it every time. his cock is aching and itching for any ounce of stimulation beneath his jeans.

hips desperately rock toward eddie’s hand, and he’s biting his lip with concentration, eyes flooded with amusement and thirst. you’re panting, chest rising and falling rapidly, and your face is balled up in pure ecstasy. your eyes are shifting in and out of focus, you wanna roll them back so bad but you need to watch him. you have tension in your neck from holding it up in your current position, but you need to watch him. you can’t take your eyes off the way your hard clit flicks around the nub of his ring.

his jaw is slack, tongue slightly sticking out in awe. his eyes are shifting between the action happening in between your legs and your facial expressions. he can feel thumping in his chest and his cock. you’ve already broken out in a soft sweat, and he can tell by your twitching that your putting all your focus on not cumming too soon, drawing this experience out for as long as you can muster. the air surrounding the two of you is thick, warm and heavy with lust.

you catch the way his adams apple bobs when he swallows a groan. he doesn’t want anything interrupting your whines or the subtle sound of the sheets beneath you shuffling as you brainlessly fuck yourself against him. he feel as though he can’t form a coherent thought, mind completely buzzed with need.

you’re desperately trying to hold on, clit stinging from overstimulation. without warning you feel that out in your abdomen snap, body instinctively stretching itself out, toes curled, thighs slap the way they close around eddie’s hand, jaw loose in a open mouthed whine, and eyes rolled so far tears start selling up. you’re stunning, he can feel the aching in his cock and it nearly makes him cry out. watching you lurch forward as you cum, he’s still nudging his ring around, wanting to squeeze everything outta you. you nearly laugh in embarrassment with how hard your orgasm was.

eddie’s face is flushed a deep red, he’s so turned on. slowly peaking your thighs apart to get a good look at you swollen, worn out pussy.

[tommyknards-archive]

1K CELEBRATION ✰ make me choose for @compassgenius ↳ Billy Hargrove or Eddie Munson

[munsonsmixtapes]

There's No Time Like the Present

rock star!eddie x fem!reader

summary: Eddie's letting the fame get to his head and somehow ends up getting sent into an alternate universe where Corroded Coffin never existed to be taught a lesson.

cw: mention of alcohol, mention of weed/other drugs

word count: 4k

Brooklyn, 1995

Sun streams through the windows as Eddie stirs from his sleep. He doesn’t exactly know where he is but what he does know is that he’s got a killer headache. He vaguely remembers the album release party last night but everything else is a little fuzzy, especially any memory of the girl who’s asleep beside him. 

He sits up and looks around the room, noticing the clothes strewn across the floor and he gets flashes of carrying the girl to the bed and clothes flying as they were so desperate to get each other naked. He doesn’t feel bad for not remembering the sex because he’s sure that she doesn’t remember either. What was her name? Sharon? Susan? Something with an S. It’s not like it matters anyway because he’s never going to see her again. He’ll make sure of it. 

This isn’t the first time he’s had drunken, meaningless sex and it definitely won’t be the last. He’s been doing this every weekend for months now and even he has to admit that it’s getting old. This lifestyle is starting to make him feel like he’s slipping away from the kind of guy he thought he was but he’d never admit that.

He slowly slips out of the bed and retrieves his clothes, careful not to wake the girl as he gets dressed. He then hurries to the front door before he can be caught but not before taking some Advil and a bottle of water. 

As soon as Eddie is out of the building, he slips some sunglasses on and lights up a cigarette as his beeper goes off in his jacket pocket. He pulls it out and sees that it’s from Gareth.

WHERE ARE YOU??

“Shit,” is the only thing that passes his lips before he’s trying to flag down a taxi because he knows it’ll be faster than the subway. As soon as he’s in the backseat of the first one that’s stopped for him, he gives the address and even offers to pay more if the guy speeds. 

The guy keeps looking at him through the rearview mirror and Eddie knows exactly what’s happening since he experiences it on a daily basis now. He just chuckles to himself as he waits, taking another drag of his cigarette. 

“I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t smoke in here,” the driver says and Eddie’s face falters. And now he has no idea why not being recognized is pissing him off, but it is. It pisses him off even more that he can’t smoke. So he angrily rolls the window down and tosses the cigarette out. He mumbles to himself as he sinks into the backseat like a toddler who just got told they can’t have a cookie before dinner. 

The rest of the ride is dead silent besides the radio playing softly and with how horrible the traffic is, he’s thinking that he should have just taken the subway. God, he really needs to get to the venue. He really needs a joint. That would definitely help his hangover induced anxiety.

It also doesn’t help that he’s playing at Madison Square Garden tonight which is also a huge contributor to his nerves. He honestly has no idea how he got here, but he did it.

 He knows that a band is a joint effort but he’s really the reason why they even got together in the first place. Because for all intents and purposes he is Corroded Coffin. Sure, the rest of the band plays their instruments but he’s the reason why they even have music to record anyway. He’s not afraid to say that he’s actually the genius behind everything-the master controlling his little puppets.

The car pulls up to the building and Eddie is quick to get out, not even thanking the driver as he throws some cash through the passenger window before hurrying inside. But when he gets there, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant are finishing up soundcheck-without him.

This isn’t an uncommon occurrence but it doesn’t make him any less upset. It wouldn’t kill them to at least wait until he got there to start? This is his night for God’s sake. They should at least have the decency to let him know what time he’s supposed to be there so it doesn’t happen again. 

“Thanks for waiting on me,” he scoffs as he steps up onto the stage. He’s too wrapped up in his own problems to see just how fed up they are with him. Because in his mind, it’s Eddie all the time. Everything revolves around him and he doesn’t care to think about anyone else. 

Grant is about to say something but Gareth shakes his head at him. They can’t be having this conversation before their biggest show to date. It will just have to wait until it’s over even though they’re all itching to tell Eddie just how much of a fucking prick he’s become. 

“You’re two hours late,” Gareth tells him, trying to keep his tone even. They all have to walk on egg shells so as to not upset the diva. But he seems to have no fucking problem yelling that them if they even so much as look at him wrong. 

“I’m hungover,” he says in a defensive tone, but even he knows that that’s not a good enough excuse. He ran out of them a long time ago so he doesn’t know why he thinks that they’ll still work. That his bandmates will miraculously not be upset with him if he tells them that he was late because he overslept. 

“We all are,” Jeff responds. “But we actually seem to care about this show unlike you.” He’s just poured salt in the wound and he doesn’t even care. Eddie deserves to be knocked down a couple of pegs. He finally deserves to know exactly what they’ve all been thinking. 

“You think I don’t care?” He asks, stepping closer. He’s putting on a brave face but that actually hurt way more than he’d ever admit. He’s been wanting to play here since he can remember so his bandmates thinking that he doesn’t care is actually a slap to the face. 

“Oh, we know you don’t,” Grant fires back. “Otherwise, you would have been here on time and you would have had the decency to shower.”

“I don’t know who this is,” Gareth gestures to Eddie. “But he’s not my best friend. Because the Eddie that I know would fucking hate you.” His words are knives and Eddie’s so fucking glad that he’s still wearing his sunglasses because he can feel tears welling up in his eyes. 

Tension rises as they all grow quiet, Gareth’s words hanging in the air. None of them can actually believe that he said that, but it’s what they were all thinking anyway. And Eddie needed to hear it. He needed some sort of wake up call that would bring him back to reality and out of his own ass. 

“Whatever. I guess I’m gonna go shower.” Without another word, he heads backstage and the others glance at each other, knowing that they just fucked up any chance they had at putting on good show.

Eddie mutters to himself as he lights up another cigarette as he heads to the bathroom, completely ignoring the members of his crew wishing him luck for tonight. It’s at this moment that he wishes he could just disappear. He fucked up and he knows that and he’d never admit it out loud, but Gareth was right. The old Eddie would absolutely despise who he’s become.   

When he gets to the bathroom, he strips down as the water heats up, staring at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t even recognize himself and it’s starting to scare him because who is that stranger who’s staring back at him? It’s like he can see himself progressively turning into a monster, scaly green skin taking over his features. 

He decides that maybe he’s still drunk and stubs his cigarette out onto the counter before getting into the shower. He feels instant relief when the hot water runs down his body. He scrubs at his skin with the bar of soap that was provided, somehow still not feeling guilty about what just happened on stage. 

He’s lying, trying to convince himself that he hasn’t done anything wrong even though he knows that that couldn’t be farther from the truth. He knows that he’s become the kind of guy he’s always hated but he can’t seem to admit it to himself. Because that would mean having to come to the realization that he really has become a monster. And he’s not ready to do that yet, nor does he think he ever will be. 

He’s become more obsessed with his looks and doesn’t really care how he treats people as long as he gets what he wants in the end. Because at this point, all he cares about is the girls, drugs, and money. Gone is the man who looks out for his friends and wants to actually spend time with them. Gone is the man who thanks every single crew member and gets excited to sign autographs. 

When he gets out of the shower, he stands in front of the mirror for a second. He just needs a minute to himself even though he already had thirty of them. He’s just stalling now because he doesn’t want to go out and face Gareth after he spoke to him that way. Especially because he was right and Eddie doesn’t want to apologize. 

He wipes the condensation from the mirror and jumps when sees someone behind him in the reflection. It’s a woman who looks a little familiar but he’s not sure. He turns around and presses himself against the sink in fear, holding onto his towel tightly because he really doesn’t need it falling right now. 

“You can’t be here,” he says, making an attempt to assert dominance but being so exposed like this isn’t really helping. She just lets out a laugh and it’s echoing Eddie’s ears and he has to cover them to keep them from ringing. 

“Is that supposed to be scary? God, the years have not been kind to you, have they?” She asks as moves to the left, wanting to look at him from every angle. He’s skinnier than she remembers and there’s purple under his eyes which makes him look tired, like he desperately needs some sleep. She’s sure that he does. 

“What do you want?” It’s already been a day and he doesn’t have any more time for fucking nonsense. He just wants to get the show over with then lock himself in his hotel room and sleep for days.

“I wouldn’t talk to me like that if I were you.” 

“And why's that? You gonna put a curse on me?” He refers to her black dress that looks very witchy. That’s when it dawns on him. He slept with her right when the band was taking off. He woke up the next morning with such a weird feeling and now he’s wondering if she really did put a curse on him because he snuck out and never called her when he promised to. 

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do,” she smirks and Eddie laughs. This whole thing is just too ridiculous. 

“Sure, okay. Well, this is kind of an important day for me so if you’ll excuse me-”

He’s cut off when black smoke rises from her fingers as she moves them this way and that and now he’s convinced that he’s gonna shit his pants. He didn’t think that she was actually a witch or that magic really existed but now he’s starting to reconsider. Especially when the lights in the bathroom go out. 

He’s about to let out a scream but then there’s a flash of light coming from the witch’s fingers as some of the objects in the bathroom start swirling around the room like a tornado which causes him to back up to the sink, holding onto it for dear life. The light flashes again and again and then, suddenly, he feels it hit the center of his chest, causing him to fall to the floor. 

The witch leans over him, an angry expression on her face. If looks could kill, Eddie would most certainly be dead. He honestly kind of wishes he was because this is starting to feel like a very real nightmare. This can’t actually be real, right? This is just a figment of his imagination. He is really tired and hasn’t gotten proper sleep in weeks so he thinks he might just be hallucinating. 

“I’m starting to wonder if anyone would miss you if you were gone,” she says as she squats beside him. So this is it. This is how he’s going to die and it’s going to be while he’s practically naked. Of course this would happen to him. “I mean, you haven’t exactly been the nicest have you? Well, I think it’s time you learn.” 

He has no idea what she’s talking about, so oblivious to the fact that he’s proving her point by not understanding just how vile he’s been the past four years. But unfortunately, she doesn’t have the time to go over every terrible thing he’s done or said. That would just take too long.

More smoke comes from her fingers and he feels it sting his skin as it envelopes body. It feels like thousands of tiny little bee stings and this might be the most physical pain he’s ever been in. It’s so deep under his skin that he wants to tear it off so he’ll be free from all of this torment. He’s screaming as pain runs throughout his body and it’s so loud that he can barely hear here as she continues to speak.

“I wonder if anyone would even love you if you didn’t have your fame and looks.” She pulls away to give him a moment to breathe and he’s in so much pain that he can barely move or speak. “Consider this a punishment for being such a piece of shit.” 

He still has no idea what she’s going on about and he’s just trying to pretend that he’s not there. He can process this later when he feels more sane. He’s honestly just scared and wants out. He wants to find security and have her escorted off the premises because now this has just gone too far. 

“I think it’s time you paid for your actions.” The pain has worn off enough that he can now sit up and try his best to process what’s going on. 

“What are you even talking about? We slept together once five years ago and you’re still holding a grudge against me because I never called you?” Now he’s feeling like maybe the mushrooms he did last night haven’t quite worn off yet because none of this feels real. The witch disappears in a puff of black smoke and Eddie looks around the now empty bathroom wondering what the fuck just happened. 

“So you admit it?” She feels a wave of relief wash over her as she finally hears the truth. She kept wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt but hearing that he’s exactly the kind of guy she thought he was, she’s feeling even better about what she’s done.

“Yeah, sure, I admit it. Sorry” They both know he doesn’t mean it, but it seems to do the trick because she disappears, leaving him alone again. This has got to be the weirdest hangover ever. 

He shakes his head and decides to get dressed for the show, convincing himself that he’s just high because there’s no way that that actually just happened, right? This has to be some weird shit his mind cooked up because there’s no fucking way that she just put a curse on him. 

After he’s dressed, he heads out of the bathroom to find a janitor mopping the hallway. When he looks around, he sees that there’s not as much bustle as there was before. In fact, he doesn’t recognize any of these crew members. He may be an ass but he at least knows what the people who work for him look like. Something is very off. 

The building seems different, almost older than it was just a few hours ago. And that’s definitely not the same janitor from before. None of the same posters are on the walls either and he really just wants to get through this trip because it’s really fucking with him.

He has to be high because that’s the only reason why any of this would make sense. This has all been a surreal hallucination and he’s got to stop fucking around and get ready for the show. 

He hurries down the hallway and when he opens the door to his dressing room, someone else is already in there. He’s met by a bunch of screams as the women in the room hurry to cover themselves up. He apologizes and closes the door quickly, wondering if he just had the wrong room. 

But after he checks the other dressing rooms, they’re all empty, his stylist nor his bandmates in any of them. Something’s not right. And now he feels so sick to his stomach, having no idea what the fuck is going on. He’s now wondering if this is all some sort of elaborate prank because of his behavior. But he doesn’t think even his bandmates would be this cruel. 

Sure, he’s been an ass but he doesn’t think that they would go through these kinds of lengths to teach him a lesson. They’ve just been ignoring him and only speaking to him if necessary, which he feels like he deserves even though he’d never admit that. He knows that he should acknowledge that he’s been so horrible and apologize but he feels like it’s far too late for that. Everyone already hates him. 

He takes off down the hall after he checks the last dressing room, hurrying to get to the stage where there’s another band rehearsing and he feels his head start to pound. This all has to be some sort of weird dream, right? There’s no way that this is real and that a curse was actually put on him. He just smoked too much weed or drank too much and he’s either really high or drunk. 

Everything is spinning and now he’s feeling sick too. Okay, so he’s not buying from that dealer anymore since the weed is clearly fucking with him. Right? This is just a bad trip. This might actually be the worst one he’s ever had. 

His chest is getting tight and he’s gotta get out of here before he has a panic attack. It’s starting to hurt as he races down the street. He has no fucking clue where he’s going, but he’s gotta get as far away from the Garden as possible. 

As he gets further down the street, his mind just gets more fuzzy, the pressure in both his head and chest getting worse. His vision is starting to blur but he’s gotta keep pushing. He needs to go home and go to bed. He needs to sleep this off and by the time he wakes up everything will be back to normal. It has to be because he’s really hating this. This is the worst he’s felt in so long and he thinks he’s just getting old and can't handle the drugs like he used to.

He slows down to look at his surroundings and things seem different around the city too. People are walking around either looking down at these weird rectangles or talking on them. He doesn’t give himself much time to think about it, though, caught up in how different the city looks since he was last outside a couple hours ago. 

And the weirdest thing of all is that no one is recognizing him. He’s gotten a few blocks from the Garden and no one has asked him for a photo or autograph which is unusual when he’s not wearing sunglasses. He usually has to bring security with him but now he’s able to walk around freely. Something is definitely not right. 

He reaches into his pocket for his cigarettes and lights one up, taking a much needed drag as he continues to his apartment. It makes him feel a little better but not much. He still feels anxiety coursing through him as he’s still reeling from what happened in the bathroom. He actually can’t stop thinking about it and just knows that he’s going to have nightmares about it. The only confirmation that it was real was that his body still feels tingly from the shocks.

He’s never seen or experienced anything like that and he thinks that actually scared him into being on his best behavior because he doesn’t want that to happen to him ever again. He’s learned his lesson and really wants the witch to come back and take him out of whatever weird fucking trance he’s in. He promises to be good from now on.

He finishes off his cigarette as he gets down his street. Even this looks different, more modern. Especially the building. Okay, what the fuck is going on? He heads inside anyway, so tired of this day and so ready for a fucking nap. 

The elevator seems to take a quarter of the time that it usually does and Eddie pulls his keys out of his pocket, letting out a sigh of relief when he sees his front door. He goes to unlock it but the key won’t go in. 

“Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me,” he mumbles to himself before he kicks the door. He finds himself sliding down it, burying his face in his hands. He knows he needs to go let someone know that his key isn’t working but he just sits there, feeling a tear slide down his cheek. He really thinks he’s learned his lesson now. 

You let out a frustrated groan, so close to wanting to throw your paint brush across the room. This isn’t turning out at all like how you wanted it to. The colors are all muddy and your seconds away from throwing the whole thing out the window and starting fresh. 

You need a fucking break and decide to get a much needed glass of water. Not only do you really need it, but you also need some time away from the canvas to see if you can figure out a way to salvage the mess you created. It’s supposed to be picked up tomorrow and now you’re dreading pulling the all-nighter that you know will be necessary to get it finished in time. 

You should have just finished it when you first had the chance but that other painting took much longer than anticipated and you just needed a day to yourself where you didn’t do anything. But now that’s coming back to bite you in the ass because now it’s down to the wire and you think you might have to start all over. All because you didn’t wait long enough for the first layer to dry. 

You’re about to go back to the studio when something hits your door with a loud thud. You jump at the sound and hurry to your room to grab the baseball bat by your bed that you keep for this exact situation. You slowly make your way to the door with a strong grip of the bat, ready to swing as soon as you open the door. 

Living by yourself has never bothered you and nothing ever happens around where you live but now you’re terrified, your entire life replaying in memories because you have no idea who or what is on the other side of the door. 

Eddie stands up when he hears the door open, wiping the tears from his face, his eyes widening when they land on you and then the baseball bat in your hands. Oh, this is just not his day and now he’s treading lightly because there’s no fucking way he’s getting hit with that. But just as he’s about to explain himself, his vision becomes hazy and he collapses to the floor.

part two coming soon!

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[browneyes-8288]

Ooooh... Interesting.... 😍😘

[elegantpaperoperatormaker]

This Year's Girl

Gif by the lovely @loveu2themoonandtosaturn, dividers by @/cursed-carmin

Eddie Munson x Cheerleader!Reader

Summary: It was a normal day for Eddie. Arriving at school late, getting to class late, leaving lunch late. But then an anonymous note, inked in glittery pink gel, fluttered from his locker. And he knew whose it was. No doubt about it. Because it was the same handwriting as the short message on the last page of his junior yearbook. Carved in glitter, color faded from the amount of times his thumb had traced every curved letter, every dotted ‘i’ and crossed ‘t’. It was yours. It was you. Calling him to the forest behind the school. And he had never been so early. 

Or

You seek Eddie out, maybe for a little herbal relief, maybe for something more. And who is he to turn down such a pretty girl? But how will he fare having to skirt the edges of your loose-lipped truths?

Word Count: 11.1k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, PiV unprotected sex, semi-public sex, cream pie, virginity loss, dirty talk, nipple stim, fingering, oral (f rec), mention of masturbation (m), insinuated hypothetical pregnancy, virgin!Reader, semi-experienced!Eddie, fluff, mild angst, very mild dubcon (both R & E are high), Eddie’s POV, drug usage (weed), feelings, insecurity, fem pronouns, if I missed anything lmk!

Song Recs: Evie by Shoe, Palomino by FINNEAS,  I Want Somebody Badly by Jeff Buckley

A/N: Everyone say thank you and kiss this anon’s forehead for the idea. Also, it’s been a minute since I’ve freshly written a full fic and not just posted a draft from the summer, so be nice to me.

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 “You’re pretty.”

The words catch Eddie off guard. Especially since you haven’t spoken in two minutes, utterly transfixed by the sky above. Or maybe it was the falling leaves that stole your attention; scarlet and gold floating on the autumn breeze. Delicate. Pretty. 

Either way, he hadn’t expected to hear such a sentiment from the Hawkins High cheer captain. 

Although, he hadn’t expected to be here with you, at all, as a matter of fact. 

Not in the woods behind the school.

And definitely not alone. 

It’s unnatural.

You, laid out on top of the picnic table. Him, hunched on the seat below, straddling the old plank of wood. Too close. 

Closer than he’s ever been. 

It’s aberrant, really.

But maybe, just for today, everything is topsy-turvy. 

Maybe it will go back to normal soon. You in your bubble, him in his. Two separate worlds. Two separate planets orbiting the same rust-bucket town. The same miserable high school. At least for a few more months. 

Then he’ll get the hell out of this place. Just drive and drive and drive until the scent of manure no longer singes his nose hairs. Until the cornfields turn into beaches. Or mountains. Or shit, even swamp lands. He’s not picky. 

And you’ll be off at some college, probably. 

Find a braincell-deficient jock and pop out a couple of kids. He’s picturing a picket fence somewhere there, too. Possibly a station wagon with that dumb wooden interior. He hates that wooden interior. 

And you’ll forget he ever existed. 

And he’ll—

“So pretty.” 

It’s lower this time. A whisper. Like it was only meant to stay inside your head. Like you weren’t even aware you said it. 

And maybe you aren’t aware. Maybe the weed is hitting you hard. Too hard. It’s only your first time. 

So maybe he should pretend like he didn’t hear. Just continue to act like the metal box in front of him needs reorganizing. 

Re-reorganizing, even. 

Whatever it takes to not notice the way your pleated skirt has ridden up, bunched at the tops of your thighs. 

Because he hasn’t noticed. 

No, he’s not aware of how smooth your skin looks, or how the cherry blossom scent of your lotion seems to intoxicate him more than the shared joint, now forgotten, smoldering between your fingers. 

He has no idea what color panties you’re wearing, and absolutely no clue what powder blue fabric looks like when it darkens. 

Baggies to the left. Try to prop them up against each other. Bottles to the right. Line them up. Shit, the baggies won’t sit upright. Maybe lay them flat? Then, if he moves the tin—

“Do you think I’m pretty, too?” 

Fuck. 

Your heavy-lidded gaze is directed at him now, and he finally feels the high. Or maybe it’s just your effect; the kind of haze that leaves him wondering what new strain has him seeing a real life angel. The kind of feeling that sends his heart away at a dead sprint and his mind swimming in a tank of molasses.

Everything is muffled. And there’s only you. And those eyes. Waiting.

“Y-Yeah,” he chokes, hoping you don’t see the heat blooming beneath his cheeks. “You’re pretty. ‘S kinda your thing.” He shrugs. “Popular and pretty.”

It’s a deflection. It’s bitter. It’s crashing through the bubble with an unceremonious pop. 

Because yes, you’re pretty. Everyone knows it. Everyone.

Him noticing isn’t any different. 

You blink. “But do you think I’m pretty? Just pretty.”

He pauses, wondering, for only a split second, if this was all some kind of elaborate rouse to incriminate him. If, any minute now, Andy and Jason are going to step out from behind one of these trees, itching for a fight. Because Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson is tainting the precious queen of Hawkins High. His no-good, low-life, burn-out presence might as well stain your skin like black tar.

But he nods, nonetheless. A calculated risk; it’s shaky, not insincere. 

And that seems to be enough because your painted lips twitch into a small smile. It’s a breath of fresh air. If only his heart would stop pounding against his ribs like it’s trying to get out. To get to you.

“I told my friends, once, and they didn’t talk to me for a day and a half.”

Your smile is gone now. And your gaze is empty as you turn back to the tree tops. 

Eddie shifts in his seat, feeling more and more like he’s fallen through the looking glass. 

“T-Told them what?” 

He’s not sure he wants the clarification. Not sure he wants to understand. Because it doesn’t seem like it’ll work. Like he’ll never truly understand if you say what he—

“That I think you’re pretty,” you mutter, turning to him again, a simple pout weighing your features down.

Fuck.

“We were talking about crushes, and they said theirs. And they were so…excited…. And Heather was trying to convince Jackie S. to tell Patrick how she felt. And I wanted to feel it too.”

He can barely breathe, so he stays silent, just letting you speak to no one in particular. Because he’s not here. 

Not now. 

Not on this planet. 

Not in the same reality as the girl he’s pretended not to watch since the middle school talent show. The girl whose perfume somehow lives in his mind, though he’s never bathed in it longer than a shoulder brush through the halls. Not that girl, not in this reality. 

Not you. Telling him he’s pretty. No way—

“—wanted to hear what they’d say. Like if they would tell me we’d look cute together, or they’d say they’ve seen you looking at me, or something, and maybe there’s a chance.” 

Fuck, he’s low on E. 

And these damn baggies don’t organize well—he should really label them. And Reefer Rick has probably laced this new, stupid supply with something because there’s simply no conceivable way—

“But they just looked at me like I said something insane. Asked me if I was joking. They didn’t believe me at first—” 

He snorts, twisting the skull ring around his finger until the skin underneath starts to heat. You’re silent now, and he almost doesn’t want to look. But he has to. So he does.

Your polished nails, the lipstick stained joint, thousands of wool fibers bending and yielding to the curves of your body. Then that pout, your eyes. A frown.

The baggies of pills, the weathered wood; carved initials giving way to new grain.

“You don’t believe me, either?”

It’s so broken sounding, he has half a mind to lie and say of course he does. Of course he believes you, resident queen of Hawkins High—the girl who prances through school with five guys, minimum, trailing after her, lovesick and delusionally hormonal—are telling the God’s-honest truth. That you have somehow taken a liking to the town pariah. 

The people’s princess has woken up this day and decided she’d like to bestow upon him, of all people, the greatest charity he could never repay, nor even begin to deserve. 

And you’d say this exact thing stone-cold sober. Sure.

He could say that. 

“Um—” he clears his throat, repeatedly dragging a dirty Reebok on the ground until a pile of curled leaves starts to grow, “I believe…uh, we’ve probably had enough.”

Before you can make a move to stop him, he plucks the joint from between your fingers, ignoring the shock of your touch. 

The faint sizzle of embers being extinguished on old wood is the only sound that fills the air. That, and the rustle of wind through the trees. 

He can feel your eyes on him as he licks his fingers and pinches the end of the roll. It may very well be laced, but he’s not the wasteful type. 

And anyway, he’s got plans later. A date with his right hand and the well-loved porno mag he’s made some…changes…to. All while he pretends not to remember how your lips wrapped around the very same joint he hopes will last him long enough. 

You sit up suddenly, swinging your legs over the edge of the picnic table. He nearly knocks his metal lunchbox off the seat, scrambling to avoid the brush of your skin. 

“Do you not like me?” 

The words are filled with accusation, woven by insecurity, and Eddie feels insane. Clinically. Terminally, even. That’s not a thing, but given his luck, he could be the first man, ever, to die from a hot chick coming onto him. 

Because what the actual fuck? You’re looking at him like his very existence is a puzzle to you. As if you can’t imagine why in the world he’d be second-guessing your confession. 

He clears his throat, again, but chokes on his breath the second you slide down next to him, your skirt creeping impossibly higher before settling properly. And he’s up in a flash, like only the heat of you near him is all it takes to burn. And God, does it burn.

“N-No! No, I, um, I—I just don’t know you.” He shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “Basically just met you today, really.”

He could almost kick himself, the way his voice jumps an octave he’s certain only liars can reach. And you seem to hold the same belief, your eyes all but say as much as you stand to follow him. 

Leaves crunch under his shuffling footsteps, and you pause, as if realizing the space between is carefully set. 

It’s a choice he’s fighting to make, just as he’s fighting not to look at you. Though, one is admittedly easier than the other.

“I mean, not really. We’ve been going to the same school since, like, sixth grade—”

He shakes his head, correcting, “Your sixth; my eighth.”

Bewilderment overtakes your frown, and he understands the semantics appear meaningless to you, but they keep him up at night. When the hours tick by and delusion creeps into the edges of his foggy mind, thoughts of fate start to sound more and more sane. 

 “My mom even made you that casserole when your uncle was sick.”

Oh, yeah. 

That. 

He remembers that day. Thinks about it when the delusion turns sour and his conscience wants to remind him what an embarrassment he is. 

He remembers perfectly how he heard your heels clicking from down the hall. How he took one look through the small hospital window, saw you in your Sunday best and booked it to the en suite bathroom. 

How he left Wayne to fend for himself in a state of utter confusion, never having seen his nephew move so fast. How he hid in the small space, surrounded by porcelain and that chemical smell that still makes his skin crawl. Just so he wouldn’t have to face you. 

So he wouldn’t have to watch you charm his uncle, lift his spirits like you do everyone. 

No, he only had to listen and imagine what shade of lipstick you chose to match with your outfit. Because that was way easier than seeing the cruel fluorescent lights fail to hollow you out like it did everyone who entered that godforsaken room. 

Yeah, hearing the raspy laugh of his uncle, followed by your airy giggles through the surprisingly thin walls was a cakewalk compared to what it would have been had he been forced to smile and nod along. 

Act as if you and he lived the same kind of life. As if one wasn’t a plunder and the other a jaunt through the daisies.

Eddie paces, unable to let his twitching muscles rest. “Yeah, but what does it really mean to know someone, you know? Uh oh! I’m gettin’ philosophical now!” He chuckles, but it’s strained, and your frown comes back, unmovable this time. “Probably the weed.”

His words are stilted, and you seem too aware of this performance, but he will press on with forced amusement until you believe him. Or at least until you let him be; go on back to your bubble. Leave him to suffocate in his. 

“Are you high? I’m high. I think we’re both really high. It’s so funny, it’s like I don’t even know what I’m saying— Blah!” He flails about, already planning on checking himself into Pennhurst after this. “This is so crazy! We probably make no sense right now.”

You cross your arms, trudging back to the picnic table. The breeze lifts your skirt as you plop down, and Eddie turns away. Because he has to.

“I’m not that high and neither are you.”

 It’s that damn pout that’s going to do him in. 

Curls twist around his fingers as he tries to hide behind his hair. “No…no, I’m pretty high.” He nods. “‘Miss Hawkins 1982’ is sitting here, tellin’ me she’s got, like, what—a crush on me?”

“‘S more than a crush,” you mumble petulantly, but for his sanity, he elects to ignore it. 

“I mean, shit! I didn’t think weed had hallucinogenic properties, but you know.” His shoulders shrug in defeat, and he still can’t look at you. “Learn somethin’ new every day!”

Your head cocks to the side. “So you don’t believe me?”

Eyes wide as saucers, he wonders if this is what it would feel like to explain the sky to a mole. 

“Of course I don’t believe you! You sound crazy! I mean you’re…” He searches for the words, but how does one sum up almost a decade of watching? Of wanting— “You. …And I’m me.”

It’s softer. Lower. Just where he should be. Because really, you’re the sky. And he’s just a burrower. Too afraid to leave the caverns he’s carved in his mind, even for warmth. For light. For a smile that doesn’t shine—

“Right…” Your mouth pulls, dim, and the huff of breath sounds derisive, like you can’t possibly pass it for a laugh, but still, you try. “You’re you, and I’m me—”

He nods along, internalizing the sound of his own words on your lips. If you believe it, that will be enough. It will be enough.

“Just boring…me—”

The sentence drips with resignation. As if it’s a truth you’ve cuddled up to long enough for the feelings to subside. Roommates with your own distaste. A years-long relationship molded into resentment. He feels sick.

“What?”

You resituate yourself, pulling inward, and if you could transform the atoms in the air, Eddie thinks there’d be a wall already reaching above the highest branches. 

“No, I just— It makes sense.” You tug at your sweater until your hands are almost hidden, and regret nips at his bare skin, colder than the breeze. “It’s totally true; you’re so cool—”

He swallows the words, but they catch in his throat. Unusual and untrue. And despite his quiet, “Cool?” that slips out, coated in disbelief, you carry on, adding brick after brick.

“You’ve got your band, and that game you love to play—”

Now that’s just strange. 

“D&D?” he mutters, blanching at the sentiment. Because, yeah, he thinks it’s cool. But he can count on one hand how many other Hawkins residents think the same. 

You perk up a bit, and he feasts on the split-second of sunlight. “Yeah! That’s the one. And you literally run a club for it. That’s, like, the definition of cool.” 

It’s the high. It’s the marijauna in your system. Either that, or you and he have vastly different definitions of cool—

“And your music taste! I hear you drive up to school all the time; you’re always blasting that metal stuff! It’s so…” your eyes wander, as if searching for the right word and his mind fills in the usual blanks: loud, shitty, annoying, satanic. “unique!”

You’re too good. He’s decided it. Not because of the popularity, like he had chalked it up to before. This is different. It’s pure. 

And he’s tar. 

“You know, if I had a nickel for every time someone told me my music taste was…unique, I’d be broke,” he huffs, crossing his arms like the act will protect against your budding smile, growing back like the first bloom of May flowers.

“Well, I’m sure they just haven’t tried it yet.” And you’re so sure. He can hear the optimism in your voice and it’s deafening. 

But then, it’s like time reverses, and in comes the April shower to drown the delicate bud; you retreat into yourself, again. Smile fading, insecurity rearing. 

“I’ve never… I mean— I’ve never really tried it before, either.” 

Now you won’t look at him, and the insinuation of your words alone is enough to haunt him. 

With a sigh, he closes the distance, sitting beside you on the bench. For a moment, he only listens to his own pulse. The rushing in his ears. He waits for the confidence to speak, unaware it’s a bus that will never come. 

But impatience gets the best of him, and he decides to walk it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel— It’s just— I just—” He groans, watching the thoughts pass him by while he fails to hang onto even one. His skin feels too tight and he’s certain the only solution is to peel it off his miserable bones. “I don’t know why I am the way that I am.”

The admission rings out like a shot in the autumn air, and the silence that follows lands like an atom bomb, breaking the sound barrier in a mushroom cloud of mortifying truth.

He doesn’t know why he said it. 

Why he thought cutting himself down while you’re bleeding makes some sort of difference. How it could possibly count as some kind of balm to your wounds. 

But you wear your wounds well. And truth leaks from you without loss. It pools without inhibition. Not yielding, but seeping. Filling the cracks in him—the tunnels that quake—with something malleable and pure. Not viscous and sticky. Not like tar. 

His head hangs low, eyes following the way your thumb smooths over your wool skirt. Then his gaze tracks downward, and he wishes it wouldn’t. But your skin looks so soft, and he traces the curving terrain until he sees your pearly-white Keds digging into the dirt. 

You could probably make it to China before he finds the right words to fix this.

“You know, I’ve never had to convince a girl not to like me.” The quirk of his lips doesn’t change the tone, despite his best efforts. 

You cross your ankles, old wood creaking under you. “No?”

It’s simple. Gentle. You’re humoring him. And it’s a kindness he can’t afford, but you give it to him anyway, charity case that he is.

“No.” He huffs, something like a snicker but without the joke. “Usually, it’s the opposite.”

More atomic silence. And he starts to wonder if he ever actually learned how to behave properly. If he fundamentally misunderstands how to have a conversation. 

Or maybe he was just swapped at birth with an alien whose sole purpose is to elicit discomfort. And maybe there’s a human version of him out there, travelling among the stars, charming and suave, dripping with bravado. Yeah, that’s probably it. That’s what he’ll—

“What’s the argument then?”

His brows furrow, and he swings his head to look at you. But the second his eyes meet yours, he has to force himself not to flee. Not to make a coward’s retreat. 

“What?”

“The argument,” you respond coolly. “How are you gonna persuade me not to like you?”

God, he wishes you’d stop saying it. Maybe it’d be easier to hear if it didn’t sound so earnest. If it didn’t sound like it came from a well of truth.

His foot taps on the ground as he thinks, hands flexing restlessly. “Well…I guess I kind of thought the everything about me was argument enough.”

You stare silently, and his flesh might as well be made of a cellophane the way your gaze seems to expertly track the gears turning in his mind. 

“But clearly not,” he murmurs.

Your lips quirk. “Nope.” 

The glint in your eyes should scare him. Should shake him to his core. Because there’s something about this particular glimmer… 

With the determination of a predator poised to attack, or a vulture itching to pick him apart, you watch. Quietly. Waiting. It’s the kind of look only the helpless are on the other side of. He should be terrified. 

But he’s not. His hands aren’t shaking out of fear, and his stomach doesn’t flip out of nerves. 

No, it’s something else entirely.

Your chin tips, and your smile curls around the words. “To ensure a fair hearing, the court must consider all evidence; Mr. Munson, you may proceed.” 

His grin stretches, and he turns his body the slightest bit towards you. 

“Okay,” he nods, pondering the laundry list of reasons he has locked and loaded, ready to go. Who’s the lucky winner? What’s the bare minimum he can share without mortally wounding his pride—well, more than it already is. “Alright, well, sometimes I forget to wear deodorant, and I end up smelling really bad.” 

Before he has a chance to regret his choice, your laugh drowns out every doubt. It cracks through him with an unbearable weight, leaving behind splintered shards of bone instead of prison bars. His heartbeat sounds louder now.

And for a moment—only a moment—he forgets why he said anything at all. He forgets the point. He forgets that the melody floating from your lips doesn’t belong in his dysfunctional orchestra. 

But the urge is there. To hear it again. To be the cause. 

Your eyes squint from the size of your smile. “Shut up.” 

Locked in your gravitational pull, he moves closer—minutely, and he wouldn’t if he could help it. 

“No, I’m serious! It’s bad! That’s why I gotta leave school early sometimes, I start to smell like vegetable soup by 2 p.m.”

His grin is stuck as he watches your head fall back, the melody growing stronger, lodging somewhere deep in his brain. Between cobwebs and old, out-of-tune earworms. He imagines bottling the sound and building a shelf just to hold it.

“You’re an idiot,” you huff breathlessly, the word not carrying the same sting it usually would if it came from anyone else. Because there’s no bite to it. No teeth, even.

He leans in before he can stop himself. “Ah, see, that’s a good one, too! I’m an idiot!”

But the melody quiets, and the violins screech a nasty response as your smile starts to fall.

“No, you’re not.”

It’s firm and final, like you truly believed it even before it slipped from your lips.

“Yes, I am,” he says, soft yet steadfast. “I’m a three-time super senior army crawling my way to a ‘D’ in Mrs. O’Donnell’s class. And I’ve had two full tries at it.” 

You cock your head, eyeing him closely. Then—

“Well, practice makes perfect. Plus, I think it’s totally your year.”

Your smile is back and so is the warmth in Eddie’s body. If he had any sense, he’d steer the conversation elsewhere, because somehow, you’ve managed to flirt with him over his tragic academic history. You’re too powerful. You and your honeyed words, so sweet and thick, he could choke if he’s not careful.

He shifts, but can’t bring himself to move away. “Okay…what about this—I wanna do music.”

Your brows raise and he can tell you see through his pitiful attempt. 

“Well…you’re in a band,” you shrug. “I kind of already knew that—”

“No, like, professionally. That’s what I wanna do. I wanna go to L.A. and, I don’t know, like, get a record deal and shit, and just make music.” The light still shines in your eyes and he knows you’re not getting it. “No college for me, no office job, no suburbs—no picket fence kind of life.”

Your gaze never strays from his. “Eddie, that’s not a bad thing. That’s—that’s inspiring.”

God, you’re making this hard. Especially when you look at him like that—like he’s something to be enamored by. Something worth looking at. Something pretty… 

“No,” he shakes his head, clinging to the reality where you aren’t leaning closer to him, where your soft, perfumed skin doesn’t brush against his rough, bargain-bin jeans. “No, it’s a pipedream. It’s basically me begging to live in a van for the rest of my life because you and I both know it will never—”

“Eddie,” you cut in, grabbing his hand, “let me save you the energy. There’s nothing you can say that will stop how I feel. This isn’t a new thing. I’m not going through a phase. It’s not just a blip or a crush— I like you, Eddie Munson.”

His heartbeat slows, skipping every third thud like an old record, and he now knows the weight of your hand in his. 

And for the first time since his fingers brushed yours while passing the joint, he can’t look away. No amount of self-control or misplaced willpower can drag him up from the depths of your imploring gaze. 

“I like you a lot. You’re sweet,” and his face must’ve twitched because you grin and add, “When you’re not trying to act all tough and broody.”

Cellophane. He’s complete cellophane around you. Weak and pliant and see-through. His posturing means nothing, and he wonders if you always knew that. 

If every snide comment to the jocks came with a footnote in the smallest print only you could read: I’m jealous they get your time. They don’t deserve it. 

If every breezy look elsewhere gave him away as you’d walk past his table in the lunchroom, swaying skirt billowing in the winds of his repression.

“—and you make me laugh, and you’re honest.” Your hand squeezes his and he can’t quite bring himself to hold it yet. To open up. To keel over and admit defeat. “I just feel like everyone here…pretends to live the life they think they should live. But you don’t do that. You just live. And I think that’s beautiful.” 

Your chin tips low and he has a near physical reaction from losing the heat of your attention. 

“I think you’re beautiful.”

His mind whirs, sirens blare, but they’re silent. Unhelpful. Useless. Exactly what he feels like in the wake of your confession. And the only thought he can hold onto long enough to realize it’s just as useless is: he should buy a lottery ticket, or something. 

“I—” 

He watches you shift, doesn’t hear you breathe. 

“I…think you stole my line…”

The pitiful excuse for a chuckle comes too late. Too weak to sound genuine, but just strong enough to deflect. Because that’s what he’s good at, right? Deflecting? Distracting? 

Rejecting, apparently. At least that’s how you seem to take it, the way your hand slips from his so easily. The way your shoulders hunch and your legs squeeze together. 

Small. You’re making yourself small for him. 

And he’s just too unsteady. He’s not firing on all cylinders, not since you clipped his wires a ways back. Somewhere around you’re pretty and I like you. Just left of I told my friends and down the street from you’re cool. 

“Sorry. That was…a lot. God.” Your frown is back and you turn to say something, then give up before you even start. A beat. Then, “I—I’m sorry if I scared you off with all of that.”

You say it as if the moment’s done. As if he’s not still clinging to your words with a white-knuckled grip. 

And you retreat. 

Not in any real way. 

No, you’re still sitting next to him, still closer than ever before, but now, chipping away at your nail polish seems to be far more interesting than anything he could offer. 

“Well…I’m still here…” he tries, unsure.

“Yeah…. You’re still here,” you echo quietly.  

Showing mercy to your manicure, you shove your hands into your lap, twisting your fingers up. He recognizes the movement. The attempt to banish the need. The need to touch. He’s felt it too. Feels it now. 

The bricks stack higher as your wall grows; a structure never meant to be scaled. 

But he’s a burrower. 

“You know…” he ponders, forcing the humor from his tone. “I’m starting to think maybe it’s not the weed…”

That gets you. 

He hears the melody again, sees your wry smile.

“Shut up,” you whine, shoving his chest.

He moves fast and with grace as he traps your hand with his, holding your palm just over where your first laugh torpedoed his ribcage. Where the prisoner waits. 

“Your heart’s beating so fast,” you whisper, voice full of awe—the kind that quickly begins to carve away at his weakened flesh. 

He huffs, low and earnest. “Yeah…. The prettiest girl in Hawkins just told me she likes me and there’s nothing I can do about it. You’re lucky I haven’t gone into cardiac arrest over this.”

You smirk, and he thinks it might just kill him. Like actually. 

“Hm, well, now I feel like I’m kind of missing out on that…”

He snorts, his grin stretching wide. “Oh, yeah? You want me to keel over right here, right now?”

Your smile turns demure and he knows it’s a lie. Then, you give an innocent shrug that can’t even fool him. 

“I mean, I’m not saying I wouldn’t be extremely flattered—”

He jolts suddenly, grunting and groaning, curling his fingers tighter around your hand as he falls back against the edge of the wooden picnic top. 

You gasp, turning to prop a knee on the bench as you lean over his stiff body. “Oh my God, medic!” Your empty call echoes in the air, amusement bubbling just beneath the surface. Then, your voice falls to a low mutter. “Ohh, what do I do, what do I do? Damnit, I should’ve paid more attention in First Aid.”

Eddie convulses some, really driving the near Oscar-worthy performance home. Then he peeks an eye open, choking out, “M-Mmm-mouth.”

Your mask slips as you smirk, leaning closer. “Sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite catch it over all the dying.”

He slumps even more, the table digging beneath his shoulderblades as he sputters, “Mmm-mouth-to-mouth—”

You sit back, chewing the inside of your cheek and leveling him with an assessing stare as he twitches. “No…that can’t be it…”

Both eyes open as he brokenly utters, “No, it definitely is— With tongue! The tongue helps—” 

You snicker, “Oh, yeah? It’s a necessity?”

He squeezes your hand. “Yeah, big—big necessity.”

You lean in, so close, and his mind turns to static as your perfume invades his senses. 

This is it. It’s going to happen. Almost a decade of dreams that left him waking up in sticky discomfort, and he’s going to know the taste of—

“See, I just don’t remember that in the course,” you shrug, pulling away abruptly. “Mouth-to-mouth, sure, but adding tongue?”

One last shot, he reaches into the sky dramatically, convulses, then slackens in a lifeless heap, accented by his best death rattle.

He hears you call out, some half-assed plea that wouldn’t convince a soul, but then everything stops. Your lips slot against his, soft and plush and timid, and you might as well have used the paddles, the way his system shocks into action.

His hand finally releases yours, but you don’t move it, and he settles a gentle grip on the back of your head. Heavy enough to beg for more, soft enough to leave room for an escape, if you so choose. 

But you don’t. Instead, your tongue glides along his top lip—a teasing kind of sweetness he accepts gladly, thankfully. He responds in kind—in hunger.

He can taste your cherry lip gloss, hear your surprised hum. It’s a tiny sort of sound he swallows with a groan of his own. 

Then the pressure is gone. The taste, the noises—all gone. The music has stopped and the dizzying dance comes to an end with a blinding grin.

“Oh my God, it’s a miracle,” you pant, smoothing your palm up his chest until you reach skin.

He sits up, dazed, and you don’t move away, just letting him hover close like the proximity isn’t debilitating.

His next words slur out before he has a chance to think of a smoother line— “Have you ever considered becoming a doctor?”

And you laugh. And he’s learning that maybe you don’t want smooth. Because if you did, he certainly wouldn’t be your first call, and you wouldn’t be so quick to serenade every dumb comment of his.

So he thanks whoever rents the big house in the sky that you have a thing for burnouts and tries not to choke as you slide onto his lap, your pretty skirt splaying out across worn fabric. 

Your lips find his again, your fingers get lost in his hair, you don’t bother hovering, and he starts writing a mental Last Will and Testament. 

Jeff will get his Sweetheart, Mike will get his D&D manuals, Dustin will get his cassette tapes, and Gareth will finally get those twenty bucks he’s been whining about since last summer. He’ll leave it to Grant to dispose of his stash, and in payment, he can have the stack of porno mags under his bed. 

Though, he might just give them away whether he dies or not, because he’s pretty sure, with the way you’re pressing down on him, they’ll soon be rendered useless. 

Goosebumps rise along heated skin and something prickles up his spine as your nails rake through his curls. His mouth works against yours, a mind of its own as its aim widens, and he’s suddenly nipping down your jaw, tasting the tang of perfume on your neck. 

Your chest racks with heavy, panting breaths and noises that sound like earnest attempts at his name. It’s intoxicating. His lips swell from struggling to keep up with his greed, but he can’t stop. There’s a burning kind of ache deep within him, and it’s growing. 

His hands find their way to your hips, and he can’t tell if it’s you who moves freely, grinding down like you’re searching for something, or if it’s him and the ravenous need he’s not certain can be controlled. 

“Fuck—”

“Eddie,” you call, tightening the grip on his hair until he groans. His cock flexes, straining against the oppressive zipper of his jeans and missing a kind of warmth he’s itching to know.

“Hm?” he grunts into your neck, barely aware. He’s pretty sure he could devour you whole. But then again, he’d much rather savor you, pick you apart and feast on your supple flesh for ages. The smallest little bites until your sweet noises grow louder and louder; scratchy and desperate like the mindless roll of your hips against denim.

“E-Eddie—”

Your voice pitches up, his name breaking on the crest of your movements, and you hunch toward him like the pleasure is a weight your shoulders can’t possibly bear. 

And something twists in his gut then, something raw and hungry. 

He wants to hear that again. Hear his name shatter on your tongue as his hands explore beneath your dainty skirt. He wants to feel the vibrations of your moans as he kisses every inch of you. 

“Mm, yeah, baby?”

“I want— Want you,” you grit out, like the words take effort you can barely muster. 

“Fuck— I know, I wan’ you, too. So bad. So fuckin’ bad.” 

If it were any other time, he might feign control. Might deepen his voice with a confidence he doesn’t have. But this is not just any other time. It’s you, in his lap, whispering needy little pleas into the air like it’s obvious. Simple necessity. Like he’s not just a warm body and you’re not picturing someone else. 

His fingers curl into the waistband of your skirt, and it’s as if you remembered there was more to be said because your hips stall and you press against his chest. 

He swallows the disgruntled whine, and accepts your direction. Doubt creeps into the fog of his mind, but you don’t leave him time to get lost when your thumbs smooth over the stubble on his jaw, the worry in your eyes outweighing his.

“Eddie, I, um, I want—you,” you finish stiltedly, looking at him like you’re waiting for the penny to drop. “But, I, uh, I’ve ne—” It spins. “I don’t really—” And spins. “I mean, not that I’m, like—” And spins. “I’ve just never really—”

It drops, a metallic clang bouncing off the walls of his skull, and suddenly he feels like he shouldn’t touch you at all. His hands hover over your hips and the something-molten deep in his gut turns out to be much more familiar than he thought. Hot, bubbling, careless and incessant in its need to stain. To contaminate. 

“Never?” His brows furrow, trying to decipher the discomfort on your face. If it’s him—if it’s the tar—he might just leave town now. Screw graduation. Screw a diploma— “Like never ever?”

Stupid question. At this rate, he should look into surgically removing his foot from his mouth before he tries to speak next—

“Guess I was just…waiting,” you shrug, thumbing the hem of his shirt. Then your movements become less innocent as your nails trail against his skin. So light, if he weren’t acutely aware of everything you do, if his stomach didn’t twitch in time with his restless cock, he wouldn’t have caught it. 

“Sweetheart,” he almost warns, feeling like he misconstrued this moment for something serious, when clearly, you’re toying with him, spreading your palms along his waistband like you can’t see him shiver. Like you can’t feel his length straining beneath you, flexing against its jean prison, reaching for the warmth of your core. 

“S-Sweetheart,” he repeats, the endearment sounding more and more like a plea as you rake your nails through the wiry curls just below his navel. 

You go on, apparently undeterred by his fraying control. “I’ve been on dates—” 

He doesn’t care. His eyes track yours and the glide of your tongue along kiss-bitten lips. 

“Guys have tried—”

Okay, he cares. What? 

“I’ve just never really—wanted to.”

Fuck. 

You grind down, passing the motion off as adjusting your position, but Eddie doesn’t trust that gleam in your eyes. And you confirm it in the way your palms smooth down his arms until you press his hands to your hips. Making him touch you. Contaminate you. You encourage it, even. Wrapping your grip around his wrists as you guide his hands beneath your wool top. 

“But it’s different with you.”

He shudders. 

“Sweetheart.” 

It’s certainly a plea, now. A cry for mercy as your fingers return to the sensitive skin just above his waistband, travelling up, up, up until he’s entirely covered in goosebumps, and he worries you can feel the pitiful call of the convict in his chest. 

“I don’t want to. That’s not what it feels like—”

God damnit, he’s so confused and all the blood rushed from his brain long ago. There’s nothing up there anymore.

“‘S not like that. ‘S like,” you lean in close, letting him feel the words against his lips before he ever hears them, “a need. Like there’s something missing right now.” You roll your hips and he chokes on the breath he was holding. “And I think— No, I know, if I could just—feel you…inside me—I would be okay again. Better.”

“Oh, f-fuck,” he groans, thrusting up with the coordination of a muscle spasm. He lets his forehead fall against yours in an attempt to gather control. “You—you can’t just say shit like that.”

You peck his lips and he chases the small affection. “But it’s true. I don’t wan’ anyone else. Just want you. Inside me.”

“Jesus Christ,” he grits out, trapping you in a kiss that borders on consumption more than anything sweet. 

He can feel you everywhere: on top of him, in his hair, under his shirt, sinking claws into his sides; your touch is kindling to the fire raging low inside him. 

Suddenly, he’s reminded of the foiled condom he removed from his wallet just the other day. The old thing was practically useless, worn down and crumpled from years of sitting idle in between the folds of cracked leather. But something is better than nothing, and now he’s cursing his past-self for his terminal case of realism. 

The clink of metal draws his attention back, and he hadn’t noticed your lips leave his or how your hands have grown eager, already past his belt and now fiddling with the button on his jeans. 

“Wanna feel you, Eddie. I need to,” your honeyed whines wash over his body, sending a buzz through his veins. But then the purring sound of his zipper sliding open reminds him—

“Shit,” his hand wraps around your wrist. “Wait, I don’t— I don’t have anything,” he admits lowly, miserably. 

You smile, kissing around his mouth like you’re drawing the shame out, and him in. “It’s okay…. I just want you,” you repeat, firmer this time. “All of you.”

And something inside him rumbles, something sick and starving. Once-weak, but now growing in strength. It’s mean and sharp, with teeth that can cut through steel and an appetite that can devour innocence whole.

It’s not unfamiliar, this beast. He’s known it for ages. It’s an old friend. A confidant. Something to speak to in the darkest moments, but never to trust. Something to surrender to during the sweatiest nights, when his hand cramps but the need still aches. Still hungers. 

It’s got an imagination, too. Twisted as can be, it preens at the thought of possession, of staying. Of skin stretching and bones shifting, of curly-haired children that have your eyes and his smile. Soccer practice between label meetings, the sun beating down on hot sand as little feet kick at his back. A ring with weight and a necklace to match.

It’s like a plague on his thoughts. But it’s not. Not really. Because he doesn’t have to fear the lies anymore. The want. The bubbles are melding, his world is clashing with yours. And the beast tells the truth, now.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters against your lips, the words sounding more like a warning than anything.

“Mmm,” you hum, trailing your affection down his neck. “Been there, done that. I’d rather keep you alive for this.”

And you’ve crossed his wires so expertly, he’s practically sparking beneath your touch. 

Imbued with a new kind of power, he slides you from his lap before shucking his leather jacket off and swinging it onto the table’s surface. His shirt follows with, finding a strategic home among the layers. 

You seem to catch on because you climb onto the table, laying yourself out just like before. He grins, helping you out of your top, only to fold it up and leave it where your head can rest. 

Both of you pause, taking just a moment to stare. Openly. 

He tracks your gaze as it trails across his chest, noting each tattoo. Then his eyes widen as you distractedly remove your bra like it’s nothing, like he hasn’t fucked his fist to the thought of this very moment. 

The material slides down your arms and you settle back, pretty as a picture, laid out all for him. 

“Jesus…Christ, sweetheart, fuck.” 

You smirk, and there’s that gleam again. Evil and conniving and he’s a willing victim, first in line, and hopefully last.

“See anything you like?”

He gulps, kneeling on the bench below, itching to touch you, but holding onto manners with a white-knuckled grip. “Yeah. See a whole lot.” 

“Then what are you waiting for?” You grab his hand, guiding it to your breast with a squeeze. “This isn’t a museum, you can touch.” 

“Oh, s-shit,” he stutters, losing all decorum as his other hand joins in, kneading the supple skin. Your sighs possess him, and before he can overthink it, his mouth closes around your nipple, tongue circling and laving at the tightening peak. 

“E-Eddie!” Your hand flies to his curls and he groans, parting his lips wider, needing to feel more of you in his mouth. 

You writhe beneath him, a victim of a fiendish kind of gluttony as he moves to your other breast, tweaking the wet peak he left behind. 

He explores your body zealously, taking his time tasting and nipping every bit he can reach until you start tugging at the roots of his hair, forcing him up. 

“Need you,” you huff breathlessly, yanking at his jeans. “Now.”

“W-Wait—” his hands land on yours, slowing your movements.

Your mouth parts as you look up at him, wide-eyed and completely desperate, and he feels his control unspooling like flimsy yarn. 

“No, Eddie, I already told you—”

“It’s not that,” he shakes his head, kissing you quiet. “I just— We can’t just…”

You watch him patiently, clinging onto every half-thought he struggles to produce. 

“I gotta— No, I—want to make this good for you…obviously,” he grunts, cringing at the lack of suavity. “And to do that, um, we can’t just…”

You nod, encouraging him as his face grows hot. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell he’ll be able to explain the concept of foreplay to you right now. Not when you’re looking at him like that, bare and ready for him.

So he sighs and kisses you once more, this time slow and careful. Full of things he can’t quite say, but he hopes you understand. 

“You trust me, right?” 

“Of course,” you respond instantly, eyes shining so bright.

He swallows, rubbing a thumb along your cheek. “And you’ll let me take care o’ you?”

You lean into his touch, almost shy as you nod. “Yeah. Yes…please.”

And a piece of him breaks off, then. 

Splintered by your soft words, the plea that landed like a hammer on his scuffed lacquer.

One single chip in the barrier, and the beast rises in a crashing escape. 

His lips find yours—messy, needy. 

Wanton greed curls around every cracked rib, reaching out like smoke unfurling. Searching for something to envelop, to take. To take and take and take. Your breath, your taste, you. It wants it all. 

He wants it all. 

The words tumble out too easily. “Such pretty manners, huh?” 

You shudder, hiding your face in the curve of his jaw. 

“Pretty manners in a pretty girl,” he practically purrs, letting his hands slip down your body until his fingers invade the waistband of your pleated skirt. “Gonna let me take care o’ you, hm? Gonna let me get you all nice and ready?”

Your breathy sigh warms his neck as he shimmies the fabric down your legs, laying you back, gently. 

You squirm beneath his gaze, squeezing your thighs together. “Eddie…”

“Shh, patience, pretty,” he murmurs, trailing a finger along your curving terrain until he’s toying with the powder blue fabric. “Gotta be good for me. Think you can do that?”

“Mhm,” you hum, choking on the note as he softly pushes your legs apart. 

“Ohh, look at you…” His eyes darken and he thinks he could get used to this. To seeing you all laid out for him like a meal. A feast that could last him forty days and forty nights. 

You shift, almost imperceptibly, as he drags your panties down, but he noticed. He always does with you. “Be good,” he warns lowly.

“I’m trying.”

Your whine falls to static as he watches a single string of arousal cling to the blue gusset with a fragile strength he aches to snap. 

The trees rustle overhead and the sun peeks through, lending a perfect spotlight to your wet folds, and he groans, pocketing your underwear with little consideration. 

“Fuck, you’re so god damn gorgeous, baby, think I’m losin’ my mind,” he mutters, kneading the fat of your thighs. 

“Eddie,” you call, wiggling into his grip, and he’s never been more certain that you’re a temptress put on this earth to destroy him and everything that he tries to be. Controlled. Polite. Genetlemanly. 

Every stuttering breath, every twitch of your hips, every slow blink—you’re chiseling away at the lacquer, unaware of all that lies beneath.

“Eddie, pl—ease!” 

His middle and ring fingers glide through your folds while his opposite hand holds your hips down as you try to grind onto him. 

“Knew you’d make the prettiest sounds. …Pretty sounds, pretty manners, pretty girl,” he chants the words like a mantra, entranced as he raises his fingers up to watch your arousal glisten in the evening light. “Pretty.”

You whimper, and suddenly it feels like he’s been pulled from the depths as he stares down at your face, pinched in pleasure. You’re waiting as patiently as you can and he has to reward that.

He spreads your folds once more, listening intently as he slips a finger inside. Your broken moan speaks almost directly to his cock, and he can feel a stream of precum soaking his boxers.

You call his name again, your chest moving in perfect time with the pulse of your warm walls. He responds to your plea for more with a second finger, and your nails sink into his wrist. 

“Doin’ so good for me, baby. So good,” he utters restlessly, leaning closer to your soaked cunt. He glances up, notes your closed eyes, and decides to feed the beast. 

With one stolen moment, he breathes deep, cataloguing the scent. Your perfume, your cherry lotion, and now you. The most intimate of all. And he can’t stop now. 

He knows your touch, your heady scent; he wants to know your taste, too. The real thing. Not just your lip gloss or your languid tongue in his mouth. He needs to know you deeply, fervently.

His fingers drag inside you, a slight curl every time you buck your hips. He hears your whines, sees you dripping down his hand, shimmery and inviting. 

Then he pulls out, much to your loud chagrin. And before he can scrounge up any last attempt at control, his fingers are in his mouth and he’s groaning at the taste—so sweet, he could choke. 

“Oh, fuck,” he grumbles, mouth full as you stare at him. He almost feels the need to apologize. He robbed you of the friction you were so desperately seeking just so he could be selfish. Though, he feels like he might never stop being selfish around you, so maybe he’ll allow the precedent.

He’ll blame the beast. It’s not really him. 

It’s not him who wants to drown in you, force you to ride his face until he passes out. It’s not him who wants to leave bite marks along your quivering thighs until salt coats your cheeks and you beg him just to fuck you. 

It’s not him who wants to live in your sweltering heat, carve out a place for himself. Make your walls know the shape of his cock, feel you milk him dry until something takes and you’re his and a part of him is yours.

It’s not him, it’s the rotted want. 

The need that grows hot, like a wound that has festered long enough. A gash you cut into him sometime ago. 

Bleeding for years and he never even knew it. 

The infection has driven him mad. 

But he’s beginning to think maybe you’re suffering just the same. Fevered skin and heavy limbs, weak from the wait. Like him. Withered and hungry. So long watching the have’s, resolved to be a have not— 

“Eddie, please, I need you.” Your hips search for him, for pleasure, for friction, and he drops lower, his breath spreading over your fluttering folds.

“I know, sweets, I know. But I gotta get you all ready, gotta make it good for you,” he whispers, staring as fresh arousal glints in the golden rays. It’s like you’re trying to entice, to coax. 

“‘S already good,” you slur, and it sounds like the words are burning to ash on your tongue. He can feel you overheating. “‘S so good, please, just—”

“Said you trust me, right?” He smooths a hand up your body until he finds your breast, kneading it some more. 

“Yes,” you huff, scooting closer to him. 

He licks his lips, and the lie comes quicker than he’d like. “Just a little bit more. Wanna make sure you’re all re—”

His voice becomes muffled as he presses his face against your cunt like a starved, rabid thing. Your fingers thread deep through his curls—a knee-jerk reaction—and he laps at you with open-mouthed kisses and agonizingly precise flicks of his tongue. 

You squeal and your thighs threaten to close around his head, but his fingers sink into the supple flesh, prying you open as his tongue breaches your slit with pointed thrusts. 

Your back bows, arching high off the table and he pulls you closer to him, finally satisfying what has felt like an insatiable ache. 

Because it’s different with you. He’s never felt this…full. Every pulse, every lewd slurp, fills him; he gorges himself on you. On your taste, on the way your moans crash over themselves like waves trying to drag you both under. 

His fingers slip in once more and your body goes rigid—the perfect picture of marbleized ecstasy. His tongue circles your clit and pleasure carves into your every curve, sculpting a release that courses through you like rolling thunder.

His name dies a thousand times on your parted lips, and your hips begin to flee. 

“O-Oh, God!”

He slows to a stop, smoothing a thumb over your twitching muscles. “Fuck, you taste so good— Knew you would,” he pants, sucking his fingers clean. He settles over you, whispering against your mouth. “Knew you would—”

“Tell me I’m yours.”

It’s sudden. An order.

Every syllable hammers into him, shattering something fragile. Shards of control—of disbelief, of belonging—bite at his skin. He’s paralyzed by it, a nerve punctured somewhere deep inside.

And you look worried, like that simple sentence wasn’t meant to land so heavy, but you don’t take it back. Instead, “Tell me I can be yours.”

He swallows hard, nearly choking on nothing.

He has wanted. Longer than you, he thinks.

But it’s all been in vain. 

Then you show up, move mountains and shift worlds with only your audacious honesty and a quarter of a joint for courage. He could really learn a thing or two from you—

“Yeah,” he whispers, staring into eyes he never thought he’d see this close. “You’re mine.” 

With a shuddering breath and a kiss so gentle, he’s almost certain reality falls away, his mind latches onto the moment your hands blindly find his jeans, urging the material down his thighs. 

He helps you, watching intently as you take him in—all of him—his cock weeping and flexing, reaching for something he never imagined asking for. 

You don’t speak, but he sees a reflection in the shine of your iris. It’s familiar. It commands. It guides as you drag your fingers along corded muscle with a level of reverence that leaves him dizzy. 

Peering down, he holds back every sound, his chest heaving from the marathon of your touch. 

You’re pacing yourself. Exploring—testing, in a way, like you’re figuring out what makes him tick. 

Confidently kneading here, a delicate brush there. 

Sinew twitching, his length jumping, stomach flipping. 

Your nails rake through the dark curls at his navel and you follow the trail until it grows coarse, an observant hum at his body’s reaction. 

“Pretty,” you mutter lowly. 

His frame trembles, the single word falling from your lips like a ton of bricks. 

As your hands wander, you don’t bother with permission and that almost makes him double over. 

There’s no question of can I? There’s only the surety of being yours, like an apodictic artifact you’ve excavated from a shallow grave. 

Because he did lay it to rest. 

So many times. 

Every morning his head lifted from his pillow, he buried it again. Every time your skirt caressed his desk, he threw roses. Every laugh he never caused, he said a prayer. 

But he could not abide an eternity of peace. 

Darkness would fall and he’d dig and dig and dig, the dirt already loose and the trees whispering their greetings. He’d drag up old ghosts—truths only meant for the moon—and dance with them all night. 

Then, like clockwork, golden light would send him reaching for the shovel; the sun would rise and he was resolved to live without. 

Now it’s you who has disturbed the holy ground and it’s freeing. To be exposed. To be known.

Your gaze settles on his face, and he wishes he could understand the thoughts in your mind, the ramblings behind your eyes. 

For a second, he thinks he recognizes the quiet curve of your lips, but—

“So pretty.”

He chokes, his body jerking as your hand circles his cock, firm, yet gentle. Possessive. 

Your unwavering attention and innocent smile turns the blood in his veins molten. His hips buck into your grip, unintentionally coating your soft palm in the sticky precum dribbling from his tip.

“S-Shit, sweetheart—” 

He hunches over, weathered wood scratching against his knees as he tries to warn, to caution you on just how easy he is. How little effort it’d take him to lose it, to let himself fuck your hand like a poor, desperate slip of a thing. 

“I’m ready,” you say, leading him down. “Please.”

He allows your thighs to hitch onto his hips, allows you to hold him, and he allows himself to be this close. To find purchase between your legs, to indulge in the heat of your core. 

He memorizes your features—the determined furrow of your brow, the flutter of your lashes. The version of you before him. 

He so badly wants to tell you what he sees.  

“God, you’re— Fuck!”

Your breath hitches as you press his cock to your folds, and he tries for coherence, but it all falls away when he feels you. Soft and wet and so inviting; you’re killing him slowly. 

“Please, Eddie,” you huff, your hips rolling like you mean to catch him. “Need to feel you, I swear to—”

The sentence shatters on a sharp moan the moment he takes control, letting his length glide against your slit. He’s coated in no time, practically drowning in you, but he doesn’t stop. 

It’s like a trance, the way he moves, watching fresh drops of precum mix with your arousal. He wants to taste that, too. You and him, together. He wants to know. 

You don’t seem to notice his paralysis, instead focusing on bucking your hips just right, and when his tip catches on your entrance, something shocks him into motion. 

Your body wraps around him shallowly, sucking the blunt edge of him in. He doesn’t fight it, doesn’t ignore your babbled pleas for more. 

For once in his life, he allows himself to take. It’s not begrudging permission, not shameful resignation to his more selfish nature. It’s enthusiastic, it’s encouraged, it’s accepted.

He pushes into you slowly, meeting your parted lips with ragged breaths, and your walls cling to him in a joyous welcome. Your pulse drums against his length, squeezing him in a sudden clench; he thinks he mutters advice, something about relaxing, but he’s not sure. 

Reality is bending and he’s thought about this so much, imagined this very moment countless times, and yet, nothing could have prepared him for how your nails take a chunk out of him, how you’re trying with all your might to pull his hips closer, huffing in impatience and cracking under the need.

You’re just like him. 

He hadn’t realized it until now. 

He saw shadows, heard the strain of your voice. 

But he hadn’t looked in your eyes, hadn’t been near enough to hear the call. 

The call of the hungry and withered. Of the wanton and greedy. 

He hears it now. Loud and clear.

Responding in a bellowing groan, he sinks into you fully. His lips flutter over your face, savoring your once-delicate features as they warp in pleasure. 

“F-Fuck! Ed— Eddie, more,” you cry, squirming for friction. 

“More,” he echoes mindlessly, latching onto the order. A real kiss, sweet and loaded like a gun soon to go off, then, “More. The pretty girl wants more— Gets what she wants.”

The words fall from his tongue with little thought—little care. Static whirs in his brain, blocking out everything but you. 

Drawing back steadily, he steals one more glance at you—checking in—then drops down in a sudden snap, guided by your fingers digging into the taut muscle of his ass. 

Sweat beads at his spine as his skin sticks to yours on every impact. His arms hook under your knees, changing the angle just to hear that shrill whine he’s quickly growing addicted to. 

All you manage to say is his name, over and over again like his thrusts are evicting every syllable from your chest. 

The shadows rise, spreading rapidly, and it feels much like possession coursing through him. 

He shudders, his stuttered breaths syncopating with the pulse of your cunt, choking him on every shove in. Your eyes have rolled back now, and your body moves with him, pliant, as if his to mold—to inflict upon, however he sees fit. 

A malleable offering of sheer innocence, laid at his altar. 

And it was your idea. 

The lamb’s idea to come to slaughter. 

“F-Feels good, huh?” he grits, watching you surrender to him so beautifully. 

Your response catches, snagged halfway up your throat, clawed back by a resounding whimper as you nod. 

“Yeah, it feels good,” he parrots, fighting back the raging fire deep in his gut—the one that threatens to engulf you, too. Because he’s not done yet. Not nearly. 

His hips pound into you, cock dragging along your walls at a punishing pace. The beast hums and he smirks as you try to form sentences.

“S-So— Agh! I— Mmmph!”

He nods like he understands every unspoken word. “Now you see why I had to get you all ready? Hm? You were so cute, thinkin’ you could just take it. So brave, comin’ here, all sweet on the freak.”

“Eddie!” 

You have the audacity to paw at him, to pull, to try to meet his strokes in crumbling desperation. He drops your legs, shoving your hands above your head as he presses down onto you, pinning you against the picnic table, the structure rocking with the movement. 

His long, rhythmic thrusts dwindle to swift, sharp ruts, the action bordering on animalistic.

“But now look at you. All mine,” he huffs, dark eyes roving over your trembling body. Then his gaze travels lower, where his cock burrows into you—where you take him so easily, opening up like he said the magic word a thousand times over. “Practically made f’me, fuckin’ look at you. Stretched full and so damn pretty, too. We fit real nice together, don’t we, baby?”

You whine and he maneuvers your wrists into one hand, helping to prop your head up with the other. 

“Look at you,” he repeats, firmer this time. “So wet, you’re drownin’ me, sweetheart.”

Something splinters on your face and he follows your eyeline, notices it fixed on the milky ring that circles the base of his thick shaft and the matted down curls you couldn’t stop admiring earlier. 

“Oh,” he drawls, a wicked, wolfish grin stretching his lips. “You like that?”

You nod and he practically preens. You are just like him. 

“Like seein’ me covered in you? Marked?” 

Your response is nothing more than a brittle whimper and he can feel you clench around him, already so close to falling into the after—the space in time where you will know what it feels like to be thoroughly picked apart, to be undone. By him.

“You’re markin’ me,” he growls into your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along your jugular, trying not to bite. “Think it’s only fair you let me do the same, hm? What do you say, pretty girl? Gonna let me really fill you up?”

“P-Please! Oh, God, please, Eddie—”

His thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight, practiced circles on the swollen bud and you freeze, arching into his chest, searing your sweat-soaked flesh to his. Your cries fall silent as you gape, convulsing at every third swipe he makes. 

Your walls trap him in a vice grip, fluttering and milking rope after rope of cum from his flexing length. He shivers uncontrollably, feeling his warm spend flood the tight space until it leaks, shoveled out by his now-pitiful ruts. 

He tries to prolong it. Tries to steal the moment from time itself and live in it; play house with the present. But then his body finally gives out, muscles slackening, and your arms are there to catch him, welcoming the iron hold he traps you in.

Raspy whispers are muttered into your neck, tattooed by the heat of his breath; quiet sentiments he’s not certain you hear over the noise of two settling souls. And maybe it’s better that way. Maybe they’re things to hoard—at least for a little while longer. 

He trails kisses up your jaw, blindly searching for your lips, only to find them unresponsive. Worry fills him immediately. 

Maybe he was too rough. He did notice the half-moon marks scattered along your thighs. 

Maybe he was too mouthy. He can never think straight when it comes to you.

Maybe he was just too much— 

“Eddie,” you call gently, pulling him from somewhere deep and dark.

He meets your eyes, surprised to see them wide and wanting, shining with that honest gleam that makes him feel so exposed.

“You are mine.”

So you heard.

He wasn’t cautious and he said the words meant for an empty bedroom out loud. And you heard. 

Your fingers thread through his curls, dragging his wavering attention back to you.

“You are mine,” you repeat, softer but no less confident. 

He wonders how something so delicate could detonate something so sturdy. Years and years of denial, blown to smithereens in three words. 

And you make it look easy. 

Make it sound plausible. 

That he could be yours, just as much as you want to be his.

He nods, hanging onto you like a lifesaver as debris from the wreckage floats by. He swallows and his voice barely forms around the letters, breaking under the weight of it all.

“O-Okay.”

And he surrenders. 

He believes you. 

A/N: For the love of god, please be sweet and talk to me about this fic. I think I looked at it for too long and now I don’t know if it’s maybe the worst thing I’ve ever written or if I’m just too close to it rn, I’m being so for real.

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[browneyes-8288]

Oh this was lovely 😍🌹

[dollyface3]

could I request for make up sex with Eddie? I'd love to see your version of Eddie in this scenario.

love this!! this ended up super long for some reason kinda hate how it turned out.

tags: fem reader, Eddie, grinding, smoking, 🍃 smoking, kinda toxic?, crying, argument.

you sit on Eddie's bed watching the time tick by longer and longer. you knew exactly where he was and what he was doing not that it made it better. it always felt awkward waiting around at his house. even tho his uncle was working a night shift it felt strange being in his home without him. you had been hanging out with him most of the morning but you both knew he had hellfire that afternoon but this was ridiculous. he said he'd be back at 11 but it was now almost 1am. he was always slightly longer than he said he would be but 2 hours? you had considered just going home but Eddie had left the door unlocked, taking his key with him. in your impatients you had paced the trailer several times, listened to almost all the tapes he had strewn across his draws and smoked half a pack of cigarettes. u had rummaged through his draws finding notebooks filled with songs, bags of weed, and the dirty Polaroids you had taken together. you decided to smoke some of the weed hoping you would calm down before he got home.

the clock had just hit 1:30 am when you see a truck pull in. it was Eddie's uncles truck they shared. you was sat in the doorway resting your feet on the step of the trailer joint in hand looking pissed. Eddie almost instantly jumps out jogging over to u. "im so sorry sweetheart it went on for way longer than planned I didn't realise the time." he says as he almost reaches the door. you dont even look at him just put the joint out in the ashtray standing up and walking inside. he follows you inside profusely apologising. you play on the tape in the player then start grabbing your stuff from the floor.

"no no baby where are u going?" he says with pleading eyes trying to take the clothes from your hands. "home" you say snatching the clothes back from him giving him a cold look. "im sorry ok?" he begs. "yeah same as you have been the past god how many times. you leave me alone for hours with nothing to do and im fuckin sick of it! you take longer and longer to get home. im not doing this anymore." you yell putting the last few things in your bag. you sit on the edge of the bed trying to pull on your boots but he kneels down by your feet trying to stop you. "would you fuck off?" you say shooting him another look. you give up and just sling the boots over your shoulders by the laces and grab your bag walking through the trailer and down the step barefoot.

you start walking away when you hear him come up behind you and he grabs your shoulder turning you around. "look i said I'm sorry, can we please talk this out? " he pleads. "you wanna talk? fine let's talk." you say dropping your stuff to the floor. "you abandon me in your house for hours every few nights just to play some stupid game. then walk in the door and expect me to be perfectly fine with it. I dont mind u playing your games but why invite me to stay if your not going to be there? im not one of your toys u can just play with when you feel like it!" you yell tears streaming down your frozen cheeks.

"it's not a stupid game and I told you I didn't mean to be late!" he yells back. this just fules your anger further making it finally bubble over causing the fight get worse going back and forth both getting angrier at each other.

you cut through the argument landing a slap across his cheek. leaving a sudden silence in the air that seems to drag on for ages. "im- im sorry." you say quietly.

he abruptly grabs you slinging you over his shoulder, grabbing your bag and shoes carrying you back to the trailer slamming the door behind him. he throws you onto the bed not looking at you. you try and read his expression but you can't tell what is going through his head. he throws your stuff back on the floor. he squats down at the end of the bed and grabs your legs pulling your hips to the edge of the bed.

you sit up looking at him. "again." he orders. leaving u shocked. "what?" you ask confused. "again." he repeats in that same tone. you just look at him for a moment. "come on princess your not stupid I know you can follow an order I'm not repeating myself anymore." he says in such an mocking time it makes u twitch in anger. you land another slap on his cheek slightly harder than before leaving a small red mark on his cheek. "see wasn't that hard was it?" he says in that mocking tone. "you feel better now? " he says looking deep into your eyes like he's searching for the answer. you nod slightly, still thrown off by his sudden shift in tone.

he once again grabs you lifting you into his arms moving round to the side of the bed sitting down with you in his lap. "let's talk it out sweetheart, while I make it up to you." he says softly, pushing your hair from your face. the pressure of his thigh between your legs and his hand softly drifting through your hair distracts you from your anger. you move your hips slightly feeling a sensation flow through your body. "aw sweetheart does that feel nice?" he says holding your hip with one hand and gently stroking your hoar with the other. "come on baby talk to me, ill fix it i promise." he says smoothly.

you begin slowly explaining as your hips rock back and forth against his leg. "I'm genuinely so sorry sweetheart it really am, if you want i can bring you with me? I don't mean for it to run over time so much we just get so into it but I promise even if you don't wanna come ill make sure to be back on time." he says planting a kiss on your forehead. you nod "I'd like that- mmhh~ I'd like to come play with y- fuck- you guys." you say letting out moans between. "are we ok now?" he asks. you nod before dropping your head into his chest feeling yourself getting closer and closer to cumming. "just let it out sweetheart." he whispers leaving kisses along your neck. you feel yourself start to cum the rush feeling amazing. your fingers tangle in his hair pulling it slightly.

"such a good girl."

[ashwhowrites]

Hi!!! Can I request fic when shy reader has a big crush on Eddie and tries to talk to him at school?

He would be so surprised and excited when he realized what she means 💜

Thank you!!!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Hi

Y/N was too shy to be known by many people. She kept to herself, and had a few friends. She didn't like to talk to strangers, and she didn't like to be the center of attention. Which is why she was surprised to catch herself smiling at Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson didn't have a shy bone in his body. He was unapologetically loud. He loved being the center of attention, even if it was not good attention. Y/N wasn't sure if it was because he was the opposite of her that her crush on him was massive. She really wanted to talk to him and get to know him, but she wasn't sure she was capable of it.

The first time she tried was awful. She smoothed out her clothes and walked over to his desk as the bell rang.

"Hi,"

Eddie looked up from his desk and smiled at the pretty girl in front of him. He didn't know much about her, just aware she was as quiet as a mouse and beautiful.

"Hi," he replied. His smile was warm and inviting, once her stomach fluttered she panicked and walked out of the classroom. Eddie looked at the empty spot in front of him, a little confused.

~

Then she tried again. He was trying to shove everything in his locker before it fell back out, slamming it shut with a victory smile.

"Hi, Eddie!"

Eddie smiled as she stood near him. He eyed her cute outfit and the shyness in her eyes. "Hi, Y/N!" The sound of her name coming from his lips made her cheeks flush. She opened her mouth to say more but his brown eyes made her nervous.

"Bye!" She squeaked and walked away. Eddie watched until she disappeared around the corner, the smile still on his face.

~

Did she try again? Yes, yes she did. It seemed every time she tried, she slowly made progress by adding more words. But once he replied, she was gone in a flash.

~

"Hi!"

"Hi!"

~

"Hi"

"Hi"

~

"Hi...uh hi"

"Hi times two"

~

Eddie wasn't quite sure what she was doing. He knew she was shy, and figured he made her nervous. He found it adorable that she was scurry away from him then came back the next day and tried again. He was curious as to why out of everyone, she wanted to talk to him. Then that led him to wonder if she had a crush. At first, he laughed it off, there was no way she had a crush on him. But he began to notice she looked at him....a lot. Which he very much enjoyed, he liked the way she looked away and hid away when he caught her.

He tried his best not to seem scary, he'd give her smiles and only gaze at her softly. He hoped it would make her comfortable enough to get out the words she wanted. He sometimes spoke first, but she didn't carry the conversation very far. If his suspicion was right, he was happy. He found her cute, and if she liked him, he'd be eager to see where things could go. He was curious to learn more about her and see what kind of person she was.

~~~

Y/N was unaware that Eddie was behind her when she closed her locker. She turned around and jumped.

"If we skip the hi part, can I ask you out before you run away?"

She was in shock, and believed she did not hear him right. Y/N barely could speak any words to Eddie, how did she make a good impression?

"I-uh," she stuttered

"Please, don't be nervous!" Eddie tried to calm her down and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Unaware that his touch made her heart race and she felt like she swallowed her tongue. "I want to talk to you. I enjoy our small interactions." She calmed down at his smile. She tried to shake off her nerves and smiled back at him.

"I'm Y/N. I think you should know that before you ask anything," he laughed at her comment and she felt pride in her chest. He removed his hands and she tried not to miss it.

"Nice to formally meet you, I'm Eddie Munson. Are you free tonight? Maybe grab something to eat?' he shrugged and placed his hands in his pockets. He figured he'd make the move for her, but now he was worried maybe that wasn't what she wanted.

"I'd love to," Y/N smiled.

"You have a pen?" He asked, because he knew he didn't have shit in his empty backpack. She nodded and quickly dug into her bag and pulled out a black pen. "May I?" He grabbed the pen and nodded to her hand.

"Oh! Go ahead," she said and placed her hand in front of him. She tried to control herself as his skin touched hers. The pen tickled her skin as he wrote down his number.

"Call me when you get home and we'll plan the details," he said. She didn't miss that he placed the pen in his pocket.

"Okay, yeah," she excitedly nodded. He gave her a cheeky smile and a nod that made her internally scream. Once he disappeared, she looked at her hand and squealed. All digits scribbled in his handwriting on her hand.

Eddie smiled as he heard the squeal from around the corner. He let out the breath he had held and was impressed by how well he had faked that confidence. He walked to his van and cringed at the smell. He made a mental note to steal an air freshener from a gas station on the way home.

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