My toxic fandom take is that I think that it's awful how much we can talk to creators and get answers from them word of god style. We should be out here in a godless place rooting for scraps of lore in the media like truffle pigs out in the fields
summary: It's Mother's Day and Eddie and the kids make you breakfast.
word count: 700+
The kitchen in the Munson household is busy on this Sunday morning. There’s bits of flour on the floor and aprons, a few splotches of pancake batter on the counter as well as many, many dishes littering every single flat surface. Eddie is working on the eggs while Gigi makes the pancakes, Eddie keeping a watchful eye on her. Liam plating the sausage he made with Bridget is cutting up fruit. James is in charge of letting Eddie know when the coffee is brewed as well as “supervising” because Eddie’s really nervous about the little guy getting hurt and they really don’t need another trip to the hospital this year.
The eggs are looking a little rough but that’s never been his specialty. Truth be told, he doesn’t have a specialty because he’s admittedly not the best at baking or cooking anything. And you usually ban him from the kitchen but this is your day so he’s certainly not going to ask you to make breakfast.
He’s sent you out to go shopping with his card since he knew you’d try to hover. You always feel the need to take over and he wants to prove that he can do it by himself. The kitchen catches fire one time and suddenly everyone thinks he’s not capable of making a meal that involves the stove.
He pulls the pan off the stove and plates the eggs up before turning to see how the pancakes are coming along. They’re nice and fluffy and he knows that the kids definitely got their mother’s cooking skills. Especially Gigi.
“Look at us,” he says once he looks over and sees that the fruit and sausage are plated up nicely. “We did it without a single-” He’s spoken too soon as the bowl of fruit is knocked to the floor by the newest addition to the family.
Eddie didn’t even want the little fucker but how could he possible say no to the kids when they begged? And when you were even contributing, now could he say no to his sweetheart? When you look at him with your warm eyes, it’s all over.
“Cinnamon! You’re not supposed to be on the counter!” Bridget exclaims as she picks the cat up from the counter and sets him back on the floor. Cinnamon scurries off and Eddie makes a hand motion for Bridget and Liam to back up.
Pieces of the bowl and fruit are scattered all over the floor and Eddie’s muttering every single curse word he can think of as he reaches for the broom and dustpan. The kids stand back as Eddie quickly sweeps up the fruit and clay pieces, making sure to be thorough so no one gets hurt before letting them back into the kitchen.
“You owe like ten dollars to the swear jar, by the way,” Liam says as he pours some coffee into your favorite mug. Eddie just sighs and puts the broom and dustpan away before putting a ten dollar bill into the jar that’s sitting by the coffee pot.
“You guys are bleeding me dry.”
“Not much longer until we can afford to go to Disney,” Bridget smiles as she gives her brother a high five and Eddie just shakes his head. They finish everything up and somehow get it all clean before you walk through the door, your breakfast waiting for you at the table accompanied by handmade cards.
They all greet you with wide smiles, wishing you a happy Mother’s Day as you set your shopping bags down on the counter that’s now clean. You feel tears well up in your eyes as you realize what they’ve done for you. It’s the same thing every year but it never fails to make your heart swell.
You all sit at the table and eat breakfast together, laughing and talking, and just generally enjoying each other’s company. You even compliment Eddie’s eggs. You read your cards and put them in your keepsake box before you all gather in the living room to watch a movie of your choice, of course accompanied by Ozzy who curls up in your lap, purring away. It’s the best Mother’s Day just like it is every year.
If you’d like to be added to this taglist or any of my others, feel free to fill out the form pinned on my blog! (for 21+ only and teens/ageless blogs will be blocked!!)
being a tumblr user is fun : the staff look like they're trying their hardest to kill the platform, half of the internet thinks we're dead, the other half reblogs our posts on pinterest, and we celebrate the murder of julius caesar every year.
btw i want to say that the entire tumblr community banding together is what got these changes reversed so i hope u all realise the power of a reblog and start reblogging posts instead of just liking them this is the reblog website so hit that button right now
Summary: Eddie stays over at your place, and you help him with his hair.
Word count: 1.6k
Tags and warnings: Fluff, established relationship, no use of Y/N.
(Did I have any clue what I was doing when I wrote this? No. Does it make sense? Man, I hope so. Just wanted an excuse to write some fluffy Eddie while I'm working on a Caracalla request.)
Eddie Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || Taglist
It's a funny sort of domestic routine you've both fallen into.
At this point, Eddie's probably staying at your place more than he is his own. He has his own drawer for his clothes in your bedroom, and his tapes and books are slowly starting to mix in with yours.
Neither of you have been able to brave the talk about moving in together just yet, but you're comfortable and happy with the way things are right now. Why try and fix what isn't broken, right?
You're curled up on the couch one evening with a handful of takeout menus in front of you, trying to decide what to order for dinner. You hear Eddie come out of the bathroom, a wall of steam flooding out behind him. His hair is a tangled, dripping mess hanging over his face as he tries to wrestle his still-wet ass back into his boxers, hopping precariously on one foot.
"Eddie, for Christ's sake," you say with a groan as you catch him from the corner of your eye.
Ever prepared for your boyfriend's antics, you take the pyjamas you'd laid out for him - an old band t-shirt and plaid bottoms - and toss them across the room.
"You're an angel. Thanks, baby," Eddie replies, letting his boxers drop to his ankles as he picks up the clothes laying on the ground.
You roll your eyes. He's gonna be the death of you.
He dresses himself, struggling to push his soaking wet hair out of his face as he heads for your bedroom.
"Do you have a comb or something I can borrow?" he calls. "Never mind, found your brush!"
You immediately scramble after him, snatching the brush out of his hand before he has a chance to put it anywhere near the bird's nest that sits on his head.
"Don't you dare," you grumble, setting it back on the dresser. "You'll break it."
Eddie pulls a face. "Well, what am I supposed to do? I don’t have anything with me," he says.
You grab the sleeve of his T-shirt in reply, pulling him with you as you find a towel and make your way back to the living room. You sit down on the couch, tossing a cushion on the floor in front of you.
"Sit there," you tell him.
He looks at you, confused, but does as you say, settling himself between your legs. You gather up sections of his hair with the towel, gently pressing it in an attempt to soak up some of the water.
"Y'know, it might be easier if you just let me run around outside and shake myself dry," he jokes.
"That's not a bad idea, actually," you reply with a mischievous smile. "I mean you eat and shed like a dog. Should probably make you sleep out there too."
Eddie turns to you, pretending to be offended, and you drop the damp towel over his face. With a strangled yelp, he snatches it away, glaring at you. Or tries to, at least. His hair is all over his face again. You can't help but laugh at him.
"You're so mean," he says, and you can hear the pretend pout in his voice.
You lift the towel again and continue where you left off.
"Oh, I am not," you reply, "Would I be doing this for you if I was so mean, huh?"
You run your fingers along his neck, pulling a laugh from him.
"Huh?" you insist, smiling.
"No, you wouldn't," Eddie relents grouchily. "Because you're perfect. Best thing that's ever happened to me. Happy now?"
He says it in a silly, exaggerated voice, and yet you can't help the little breath that hitches in your throat.
"You mean that?" you ask quietly, dropping the pretence of arguing.
Eddie pushes his hair out of his eyes and leans his head back to look up at you, big brown eyes full of sincerity.
"'Course I do," he murmurs. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me."
You lean down to press a kiss to his lips. He kisses you back, and you can feel him smiling against you.
"Except maybe my guitar," he mutters against your mouth, his soft smile quickly turning into a shit-eating grin.
You lightly smack his arm in reply. He just laughs.
"I can just leave you to do this yourself, y'know," you tell him, as if it wasn't your idea to begin with.
"Oh, that's fine," Eddie replies with a nonchalant shrug. "I can take care of it, no problem."
He starts slowly shaking his head back and forth, and your eyes widen.
"Eddie," you warn, "Don't you dare."
You shriek as Eddie violently shakes his head, sending water everywhere. You're off the couch in an instant, tackling him to the ground to make him stop.
"I take it back, you're worse than a dog," you scold.
Eddie doesn't say anything, just looking up at you from the floor.
"What?" you ask, a little nervously.
He always freaks you out when he goes quiet like that.
"Eddie," you try again, chewing at your bottom lip.
Eddie smiles up at you, a slow, lazy smile that brings out his dimples. He shakes his head.
"Nothing," he finally replies. "Just wondering how I got so damn lucky, that's all."
A blush creeps over your face at his words. How does he manage to be both a pain in the ass and the sweetest guy in the world at the same time? You tell him as much, and he dramatically clutches at his chest.
"I'm wounded," he says, straining his voice for effect.
He's a nuisance at the best of times, but you can't help the fondness you have for him. He makes you laugh until you're in tears, listens to you like you're the only person in the world that matters. Makes you feel safe, even at your worst. He's like no one you've ever met.
"Still with me, sweetheart?" he calls softly.
You nod, embarrassed that you were clearly caught staring. Eddie lets his hands wander to the hem of your shirt, tugging at the fabric gently.
"C'mere," he says, his tone uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden.
You frown at him, confused, until he reaches up, pressing his hand to the back of your neck and pulling you down to kiss him. It's soft and slow and everything Eddie lets himself be when he's around you.
You could easily let yourself stay there all night, wrapped up in his arms - if Eddie's hair wasn't currently leaving a slowly spreading puddle across the floor. You reluctantly pull away from him, pressing a little kiss to the tip of his nose as you sit up.
"Come on, get up," you say, as you manage to climb off him and back onto the couch. "I'm not done with you yet."
Eddie just blinks up at you. "I wasn't done with you," he grumbles, eventually dragging himself into a sitting position again.
You bite back a smile, refusing to take the bait as you continue where you left off. Once you're satisfied that you're no longer under threat of being soaked again, you drop the towel on the floor, focusing your efforts on trying to detangle the mess of hair in front of you. You begin prying his curls apart gently with your fingers, taking care to ease out the little knots so as not to hurt him.
Eddie tries to make an effort to look through the takeout menus you'd forgotten about, but after a while, his interest wanders as you work at his hair. He's clearly enjoying the attention, if the little hums escaping him are anything to go by.
“You doing okay down there?” you ask with a little laugh.
“Sweetheart, this is fuckin’ heaven, you know that?” he says lazily.
He sounds as though he’s about to fall asleep, and judging by the way his head is starting to droop, he probably is. You reach around to give him a soft tap on the cheek and he jerks upright again.
"Hey, sleepyhead, don't doze off on me. I'm almost done, okay?" you say gently.
He just grunts in response as he tries to rouse himself. You're not faring much better if you're honest - the repetitive motion of separating his curls, as well as Eddie's weight and warmth against you, is strangely soothing.
Eventually, you've done about as much as you can, and you gently shake Eddie by the shoulder. He lets out a very attractive snort as he jolts out of the doze he'd drifted into.
"All done," you tell him. "Well, it's the best I could do."
Eddie turns around, leaning his arms against your legs.
"What would I do without you?" he asks, smiling up at you.
You lightly squeeze his face between your hands.
"Do you really want me to answer that?" you ask in turn, your tone teasing.
Eddie laughs, gently pulling your hands away from his face to press a kiss to each of them.
"You're on menu duty until I get back, okay?" you tell him.
He gives you a little salute as you grab the towel from the floor and stand up, stretching your back out as you do. Eddie immediately dives for the couch as soon as you're up.
"Aw, babe, you kept my seat warm for me," he teases with a little grin.
You roll your eyes at him as you head to the bathroom. Eddie watches you go before focusing on the very important task you've set him.
“Eddie?" you shout from the bathroom, "Did you use all of my shampoo?!"
If the empty bottle in your hand wasn't proof enough, the loud thump as he falls off the couch in a frantic scramble to get out of your line of fire certainly is.
summary: You and Eddie have your first date at the arcade.
word count: 1k
The arcade is crowded when you get inside but it’s comforting from the Indiana cold. You and Eddie are bundled up in your coats but you know that you’ll be shedding them as soon as you start playing games. This is Eddie’s safe space aside from the bright lights and loud sounds from all of the different games that fill the space.
He usually only comes here with the guys either after school or on the weekends, the four of them spending hours and many, many quarters on the games until the place closes and everything gets shut down.
He’s never brought a girl here, though. And why would he have? He’s Eddie “the freak” Munson and you seem to be the first girl who doesn’t seem to feel that way about him. You’re nothing but sweet and kind and he feels nothing but lucky that you would spend a Saturday night with him. Especially in public.
There’s a rack by the door where you put your outerwear and as soon as Eddie’s got his coat hanging up, you’re pulling him along, seemingly not embarrassed at all to be holding hands with him.
This is uncharted territory for him. He’s never really held hands with anyone but he has to admit that he loves the way that yours feels in his. It’s soft and warm and he loves when you squeeze his to reassure him. He has a really good feeling about you and just hopes that he doesn’t fuck it up.
Luckily, the place isn’t very crowded so you have your pick of which games you want to play. Eddie leads you over to one called Dragon’s Lair and he gestures for you to step up to it. You don’t really have much experience in arcades or with games in general so you actually have no idea what you’re doing.
“Ladies first,” he says and you hesitantly stand in front of the machine. Eddie puts in some quarters for you and you both watch the game start up. He stands to the side, watching you struggle and he has to admit that it’s kind of adorable. He watches Dirk die again and again as you fail to get to the next level. He’s almost out of quarters but he couldn’t care less. He’s fully willing to spend all of his money on you. Even though he’s only got three dollars to his name.
He hesitantly moves to stand behind you, hands hovering over yours as you turn to look at him. You can see his cheeks turn a bright pink and it takes everything in you to not reach up and pinch them.
“Help me.” You sound so pathetic and when you jut your bottom lip out, Eddie’s quickly realizing that he’s wrapped around your finger. After he puts in some more quarters, his hands finally rest on top of yours and they feel so soft and warm. He moves the joystick this way and that as he presses the buttons.
Of course he’s a natural but you’re positive that he’s played with more times than he can count because of how easy it seems for him. You’re more focused on the way his hands feel rather than the game and you’re scared that you’re falling for him. He’s so sweet and caring and you wish everyone else could see what you see. Well, whatever. It’s their loss.
He gets much farther than you do but when he eventually dies, you both decide to save the rest of your quarters for other things. As the sun goes down, more people pour into the arcade and you can see Eddie panicking when he sees some kids from school. You’re quick to pull him into the photo booth that’s behind you and he lets out a surprised yelp when you tug on his arm.
You put some quarters in as soon as you’re both seated and you barely have time to come up with your poses and the photos are taken. You start with a normal pose, arms around each other as you both smile from ear to ear. Next is middle fingers up which feels pretty on brand for the both of you. You then put your backs together, putting your fingers in the shape of guns to mimic Charlie’s Angels.
Eddie’s pretty sure that this is the most fun he’s ever had and he almost doesn’t want it to end. And he feels embarrassed that he’s considering calling you as soon as he gets home. He’s getting that giddy feeling that he’s heard people talk about in movies which he was starting to believe wasn’t real.
You’re facing each other now and you lean forward, Eddie mimicking you. You get closer and closer until your lips meet as the camera snaps the last picture. It’s soft and sweet just like all of your other kisses but there’s something pulling you closer, like a magnet. Before you can get too caught up, you pull away with huge grins then exit the booth to collect your photo strips.
Eddie pushes the curtain open and once he steps out, he takes your hand and helps you out. You reach for the photo strips and you smile at how cute they came out. This is so going in a frame.
You pull on his arm again and he happily follows, suddenly feeling much more confident than he was earlier. You could have any guy you want yet you’re happily here with him. And he’s feeling pretty damn lucky right now.
You put a quarter into a claw machine and Eddie can’t help but scoff.
“What?” He has no idea that you could win a prize from one of these things with your eyes closed. He’s got Dragon’s Lair and you’ve got this.
“Those things are such a scam, sweetheart. Don’t waste your time.” He watches your every move, fascinated by how you move the joystick and he’s completely surprised when one of the stuffed animals is picked up by the claw and dropped into the receiving area.
You grab it with a satisfied smile and hold it out to Eddie. It’s such a simple thing but this is going to be something he thinks about forever. And the moment he takes the stuffed bat from you, he knows for certain that he’s totally and completely falling in love with you.
You can find the rest of the "I think I Like This Little Life" universe here!
If you’d like to be added to this taglist or any of my others, feel free to fill out the form pinned on my blog! (for 21+ only and minors/ageless blogs will be blocked!!)
cw - mentions of edging, rough sex, breeding kink, pet names: good girl, sweetheart, sweet thing
an: a very happy birthday to @jamdoughnutmagician 🎊 I hope you enjoy this small gift from me 🖤
You’re on your stomach, ass in the air with a pillow supporting you. You can’t remember how long you’ve been in this position, it could be minutes or hours.
Eddie teasing you over and over, bringing you to the brink and then snatching your pleasure away. Your hands grasp at the sheets, twisting, as tears fill your eyes.
“Look at you. Fuck you’re so perfect like this.” Eddie groans, as his palms touch your hips and his fingers dig into your soft skin - letting you know you can’t get away, not that you would want to.
“You gonna be a good girl for me, sweetheart?” He teases his cock against you, knowing exactly what you want but refusing to give it to you until you beg real pretty for him.
“Yes, I’m good. I’m your good girl. I’ll be so good, I just need you.” You sob out, desperation sinking in, as your need for Eddie grows.
He doesn’t give you any warning as his cock sinks into you. You practically scream with pleasure and relief, as he fills you up inch by inch.
His thrusts are quick and brutal, as his cock bullies its way inside of you. Your arms can’t keep you up and Eddie’s hands on your hips and the pillow under are the only reason you’re not lying flat, as your body gives out on you.
You can feel drool spilling out of your mouth, as you surrender to the pleasure and what Eddie is willing to give you.
You can practically see stars when he starts hitting exactly where you need him.
He leans over you, his breath hot on your already overheated skin, as he whispers sweet nothing into your ears.
“You feel me right there?” He grabs your hand and places it on your stomach where you can feel his cock. The moan you let out, as he fucks up into your hand through your stomach, is obscene, “yeah right in your guts, sweetheart.”
You can feel yourself getting closer when he says,
“I could breed you just like this. Fill you right up, would you like that my sweet birthday girl?”
Your orgasm crashes into you like a wave, legs shaking, as your eyes roll back.
You feel like you’re floating, everything feels good and you can feel Eddie chasing his release, as he tells you how good you’ve been for him.
The sudden need to have him cum inside of you has you chanting please please please.
“I know, I’ll give you what you need.” Eddie soothes you.
He thrusts into you hard and you feel warm, as he fills you up.
He slides out, hissing at the sensation and flips you over to check on you.
“Oh look at you sweet thing.” He gently rakes his fingernails across your scalp and you purr like a kitten.
“Kiss?” You look up at him with wide eyes and his face goes soft. He’d give you anything you need.
He presses his lips to yours and slides his tongue in when you let out a sigh, this is what you needed, the hard and the soft.
His tongue tangles lazily with yours before he pulls back,
“Need to get cleaned up, sweetheart, you’re leaking all over the bed.”
You look down and notice he’s right, his cum is leaking down your thighs and you can’t help but scrunch up your nose in annoyance.
“Don’t worry. Next time we’ll make sure it sticks.” He winks at you and rushes to the bathroom to get a washcloth to clean you up with.
By the time he comes back your eyes are fluttering with tiredness.
“Go to sleep. I’ll take care of you. Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead and you’re out like a light.
I’ve been having really bad writer’s block lately so to combat that, I’ve come up with some prompts!
How it works: send me a character and up to two quotes and I’ll create a fic based on what I’ve been sent! Please keep it to one our two requests per person and I kindly ask that you only send your requests once as it’s harder to look through my inbox with duplicates.
I haven’t done this in so long and I’m so excited to see what y’all come up with!
Characters:
Eddie Munson
Steve Harrington
Evan “Buck” Buckley
Simon “Ghost” Riley
Benedict Bridgerton
Prompts:
1. “What are you doing here?” “You asked me to come.”
2. “I never said that.”
3. “It’s not like that and you know it.”
4. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
5. “Please don’t leave.”
6. “I should have known it’d end like this.”
7. “If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say you were flirting with me.” “And you’d be correct.”
8. “So this isn’t a joke?” “Why would it be a joke?”
9. “Oh, I see what this is about. You like me.”
10. “Did you even really love me?” “Yes. More than I’ve ever loved anyone else.” “Then why did you throw it all away?”
11. “Please don’t make me say it.”
12. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
13. “I never told you the truth because I was afraid of what you would say.”
14. “You never called.” “Well, the phone works both ways, in case you forgot.”
15. “So, when should we make the announcement?”
16. “When were you planning on telling me?” “I wasn’t planning on telling you because this isn’t any of your business.” “So you just thought that you could keep a baby from me? How’s that any fair?”
17. “You look way too hot right now for us to just be talking.” “Then why don’t we go somewhere a little more private?”
18. “You really hurt me and you don’t get to act like you didn’t.”
summary: Eddie Munson is your good friend and study buddy for sociology. when he mistakes the novel you're reading for your sociology textbook, you get a more...hands on approach to learning about power dynamics.
wc: 7.2k
order up: college!au, friends to lovers, d/s dynamics, jealousy, confessions
tw: explicit smut, p in v unprotected, d/s dynamics, use of petnames [princess, sweetheart, baby, honey, guys a whole mess of honorifics], spanking, eddie eats pussy because of course he does, ropeplay mention
a/n: hi hi hi, i have so many eddie requests in my inbox and while he isn't my brainrot rn, i really hope you guys enjoy this one because i loved writing it.
masterlist
Your dorm room felt smaller during midterms.
Books everywhere. Highlighters bleeding through thin pages. Half-drunk cans of cola sweating onto your desk because you kept forgetting they existed.
Eddie Munson was sprawled across the floor on his stomach, boots kicked off, rings tapping idly against his soda can as he flipped through his notes.
“You’re overthinking it,” he said for the third time, pushing his hair out of his face. “The professor literally said the theme was power dynamics. That’s, like, my whole brand.”
You shot him a look from your desk chair. “It's not a campaign metaphor, Munson.”
“Everything is a campaign metaphor,” he countered.
There was a comfortable rhythm to this.
You quizzing him. Him derailing you.
It was easy, being like this. Friends who studied together. Friends who argued about symbolism. Friends who definitely did not think too hard about the way the other stuck his tongue out a little when he concentrated.
Eddie groaned dramatically and rolled onto his back. “I need a different book. The one with the red tabs. It’s on your bed, I think.”
Your stomach dropped.
Because yes, there was a book with red tabs on your bed.
But it was not the sociology textbook.
It was tucked half beneath your comforter, face-down, like it had tried to hide itself at the last second. Black cover. Embossed lettering. A very intentional ropework design worked into cover in a way that was… not subtle.
You opened your mouth.
“Wait—”
Too late.
Eddie was already on his feet, crossing the room in three lazy steps, reaching down to grab the book from your bed before you could physically launch yourself at him to stop it. His fingers curled around the spine, and he lifted it casually, flipping it over—
—and froze.
"This is... not your sociology textbook." He says, eyes wide as he flips through the pages.
Your blood ran cold. It was a specific, visceral feeling, like an ice cube sliding down your spine.
Everything faded to a dull roar in your ears. The only thing that existed was Eddie, standing there, holding the single most damning object you owned.
He didn’t flip through it with shock or disgust. There was no theatrical recoil. Instead, his thumb brushed against the pages with a strange, focused curiosity. His eyes, wide and dark, weren't judging; they were reading. Absorbing.
He finally looked up, but not at you. His gaze landed on the open textbook on your desk, red tabs that marked actual academics and not fantasies.
A slow, disarming smile started at the corner of his mouth, one that you’d seen a hundred times after a good roll of the D20.
“Y’know,” he said, his voice a low, conspiratorial rumble that felt like it vibrated right through the floorboards. “This… is a much more practical application of power dynamics than our textbooks.”
Your throat was dry.
"Thats not funny, Eddie." You turn, face red. "Give it back."
He tilted his head, studying your blush as intently as he'd studied the book. He didn't move to give it back.
"I promise you, my porn stash is way more embarrassing than this." He waved the book around a little. "At least yours has literary merit."
"It's not porn!" you shot back, your voice a little too loud in the small space. "It's research!"
The excuse sounded flimsy even to your own ears.
Eddie's smile widened. "Research," he repeated, testing the word on his tongue. "For what? Your dissertation on rope burns?"
He was teasing you, but it wasn't cruel. It was… interested. He wasn't making fun of you. He was engaging. He held the book out, not quite close enough for you to snatch back.
"This shit isn't even accurate," he said, tapping a page. "This is all showmanship. They forgot the most important part."
You blinked, confusion warring with humiliation. "What part?"
"The conversation." His eyes met yours, and for a second, the teasing faded. There was something serious there. Something intense but inherently safe.
"Well, the conversation isn't the sexy part." You mutter.
"Oh so you're admitting it's porn now?" He smirks and you narrow your eyes. "And also... the conversation is definitely the sexy part," he added, stepping closer. "It's the whole point."
You held your ground, even though every instinct screamed at you to snatch the book, throw him out, and crawl into a hole for the rest of eternity. Instead, you lifted your chin. "You think so?"
"I'm well versed, yeah."
He finally lowered the book, setting it down on your desk, on top of your sociology textbook. The juxtaposition was dizzying. Academia and anarchy. Theory and practice.
He took another step into your personal space. Close enough that you could smell the faint scent of the joint he smoked outside.
"I'm going to guess you haven't put this into practice yet," he said softly.
You couldn't answer. The lie was stuck in your throat. Because he was right. The book, the fantasies—they'd always been in your head. A private world.
A world he had just stumbled into.
"So tell me," he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, looking you directly in the eye. "Is it something you only like in fiction or would you like to learn it for real?"
He waited.
And the silence that followed was the loudest thing you'd ever heard.
His question hung in the air between you, shimmering and dangerous.
Is it something you only like in fiction or would you like to learn it for real?
It was a test. A doorway. A chance to step out of the theory and into the practice.
"I mean, I don't exactly have a partner to, you know..." Your hands flew up in a vague, helpless gesture. "It's not like I can just walk into a bar and ask 'Hey, any of you guys into safe, effective, and nonjudgmental bondage?'"
The joke landed weakly, but Eddie didn't laugh. He just watched you, like a predator assessing prey. He leaned against your desk, crossing his arms, the casual posture doing nothing to hide the focus in his gaze. He picked up the book again, not to mock you this time, but to flip to a specific, dog-eared page.
"Okay," he said, tapping the pages of a sex scene you had clearly marked with interest. "This, for example. The rope work is all wrong for this position. It would cut off circulation after five minutes."
You blinked. "You... you know about ropes?"
He shrugged. "I have hobbies. Guitar isn't my only practical area of expertise." He met your eyes again.
"I guess that makes sense for your whole... look." You gesture vaguely at him.
That one does make him laugh a little. "Yeah sure the whole aesthetic probably doesn't hurt." He smirks at you, eyes scanning over you again. "But the look is just a bonus. Not a guarantee. I know people who are vanilla as hell who dress like me. And I know people who would put this whole book to shame who wear polo shirts."
You think about that for a second, mulling it over as he speaks again.
"Do you like my 'look' or something? You getting off on the thought of me being the one tying you up?" He teases you, but it's not a joke, not really. It's a question.
The question hung there, an invitation wrapped in a dare. Your cheeks burned, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze.
"Okay, light teasing was fine but don't purposely be an ass about this." You warn him, the bite in your words making him raise an eyebrow. "And... yeah. The thought occurred once or twice. I'm not blind." The admission felt like ripping off a band-aid—painful, but necessary.
Something shifted in Eddie's expression. His smirk was softer, like he didn't expect you to admit it. He let it hang in the air for a beat, savoring the victory.
"Once or twice, huh?" he mused. "That's... nice."
He set the book down again, this time closing it. The conversation was moving on, past the fantasy and into reality.
He sits on your bed, not like he usually does where he's just sprawled out with no care in the world. This was different. He sat close to the edge, leaving a space between you, but the air crackled with new possibilities. He rested his hands on his knees, a position that was open, non-threatening, but still completely in control.
"I've thought about it like, way more than once or twice honestly. I've thought about what it would be like with you. So, like, if you want to try some things, or even just talk about them, I'm more than willing to be your partner in crime."
You couldn't speak, but he continued.
"Unless, you know, you'd rather ask that guy from your history class. What's his name? Mark? The one who looks like he was grown in a lab to sell minivans."
"Mark is just my project partner." You roll your eyes. "He's literally been here once to study."
"You laugh at his jokes a lot in the dining hall." He shoots back. "I've seen it."
You had no comeback for that. Because he'd noticed. And you had laughed. But Mark's jokes were safe. They were about midterms and dining hall food. Eddie's jokes were about things that made your stomach flip.
"Okay, that doesn't mean I want to jump his bones. And even if I did, which I don't, how is that even rele--"
It hits you then
"You're jealous." You say it out loud, a statement, not a question.
Eddie didn't flinch. He didn't deny it.
He just shrugged again, that infuriatingly casual gesture that meant everything and nothing.
"I'm territorial about things that interest me," he said simply.
You were no longer just a study partner.
"Look. We've been friends for a while. You know me. You know I'm not a creep. We can just… talk. No touching, no ropes, nothin'. Just words. We lay it all out. Boundaries. What you're curious about. What's an absolute hard 'no'." He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering again. "Safe words. Pet names. the whole deal."
He was laying out a curriculum. A syllabus for your most private, secret class. And the professor was the guy who made fun of your D&D character for being too lawful good.
"This is insane," you whispered, the words feeling like bubbles in your chest.
"Is it?" He stood up and walked to your door, closing it and twisting the lock.
"Eddie... what if I say yes?"
He paused, his back to you for a second, before turning around. He leaned against the door, hands in his pockets.
"Then the real research begins." He gave you a small, genuine smile. "But only if you say the word."
The choice was yours.
"Okay." The word was barely a whisper.
He pushed off the door and walked back toward you, gesturing at your bed. "Okay. Rule one. Sit."
You carefully moved from your desk chair and sat on the bed, your back ramrod straight, perched on the very edge of the comforter like it might give way beneath you.
He sat down, leaving a careful foot of space between you. The mattress dipped with his weight, pulling you closer.
"You're tense as all hell, princess. Relax." The pet name was new. It wasn't teasing. It was... grounding.
You tried to unclench your shoulders.
"Let's start easy. Your safe word. It needs to be something you'll remember even if your brain is all fuzzy. Not something you'd normally say during sex. 'No' and 'stop' can be part of the scene. Your safe word is what makes the scene stop. No questions asked."
"Scene? That's so formal. So..."
"It's practical," he corrected gently. "It keeps things from getting messy. So. What'll it be?"
You thought for a moment, your mind racing. "Dragonfruit." It was stupid, random. No one would ever shout it accidentally.
A slow grin spread across Eddie's face. "Dragonfruit. I love it. Okay. That's ours. If you say it, we stop. Everything."
He shifted a little closer, the warmth of him seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt.
"Is there anything you like to be called? Or don't like?" He says, more seriously now. "Some people like being called a slut or a whore. Some people like 'good girl'. Some people hate it. There is no right answer, it's all about you."
The directness of the question made your breath catch. "Good girl," you admitted, your cheeks flushing with heat. "I don't think I'm ready for degradation yet..."
Part of you was worried saying that like you'd dissapoint him or something. but he just nodded, like you'd given him a perfectly reasonable answer.
"Alright. 'Good girl' it is. We can save the other stuff for an advanced class." The wink he threw you was both a joke and a promise.
"What about you?" you found yourself asking.
He seemed surprised by the question for a second. "Oh, well, I guess I'm pretty fine with most things. I mean, you could probably call me an asshole and I'd still like it cause it was your voice."
He said it so casually, as if he were discussing his favorite brand of guitar strings, and not the thought of you moaning for him.
"I liked when you called me princess..." You admit. "You could call me that."
"Princess," he repeated, the word soft on his tongue. "I can do that."
He was so close now. You could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.
"Okay, new question..." Those big eyes drag down your figure. "Can you come sit on my lap? I want you closer."
He wasn't just asking a question about a hypothetical scenario anymore. This was real. This was happening.
Your body obeyed before your brain could catch up. You slid across the small space between you, the comforter a whisper under your knees, and settled yourself onto his lap.
His big hands went to your waist automatically, steadying you. He was warm, solid. You could feel the worn denim of his jeans against the thin material of your leggings.
"Alright. First lesson." His breath was warm against your ear, making you shiver. "Power isn't about force. It's about control. My control, your surrender."
You nod, mentally taking notes and he smiles before leaning into to whisper in your ear.
"You can always say no." He says gently. "Right now, to me. You can say 'no, Eddie, I don't want to sit on your lap' and I'll let you go, no questions asked. This is still a conversation."
"I know." You say, a little breathless.
"But you aren't going to say that, are you? No... you want this."
"I do."
"Good girl." The words were a low rumble you felt straight between your legs. "I'm going to put my hands on your thighs now. Just to hold you. Alright?"
You could only manage a small nod.
You could feel the weight of his rings through your leggings.
"Looking so pretty, all for me." He whispers and you lean into him, your head falling to rest on his shoulder as your eyes flutter shut. You trusted him. You'd known him for years. He was safe.
This was what he meant, about the conversation. Every touch was a question. Every reaction, an answer.
"Are you going to be good for me?" He asks.
"Y-yeah," you manage. "I'll be good."
His grip on your thighs tightened just a fraction.
"I know you will." He nosed at your neck. "Now, hands behind your back. Let me hold them."
Your heart hammered against your ribs. You swallowed, your throat tight, and slowly, deliberately, you moved your arms behind you, lacing your fingers together at the small of your back. The position pushed your chest out, making you feel incredibly vulnerable, incredibly exposed.
He made a soft, satisfied sound.
"Always like it when you wear a low cut top like this." He admits. His hands slid from your thighs to your back, covering your clasped hands with one of his own. The gesture was light, not restrictive, but it felt impossibly final.
His other hand came up to trace the neckline of your shirt, a single finger grazing your collarbone, then dipping lower, following the curve of your breast. He didn't grab, didn't grope. He just… explored. Mapping the territory.
"Your heart's beating so fast," he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "I can feel it."
You couldn't answer. All your focus was on the path of his finger as it drifted to the peak of your breast, circling your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt and bra.
"Responsive little thing, aren't you sweetheart?" He teases.
He circles it a few times, making you squirm on his lap and you can already feel the hard length of him through your layers of clothes. The evidence of his own desire.
His other hand still holds your wrists.
"You like your nipples played with? I know you're sensitive." He asks and you nod again. "Let's see more of these pretty tits."
He doesn't ask to take your shirt off. He just does.
He expertly pulls the shirt over your head in one fluid motion, momentarily freeing your hands before he catches them again, this time pressing them more firmly into the small of your back. He then goes for the clasp of your bra and he undoes that too, pulling it down your arms until you're topless for him.
"Look at that." He whispers and it's the most turned on you've ever heard him.
He runs his thumb over the pebbled flesh of your nipple, and your breath hitches. The calloused pad of his thumb created a delicious friction, a direct line of heat pooling in your core.
"I'm going to pinch," he warned, his voice a dark promise. "Just a little. To see how you like it."
You tensed in anticipation.
He didn't make you wait long. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, applying a slow, deliberate pressure. A sharp, surprising jolt of pleasure-pain shot through you, pulling a soft gasp from your lips.
"Good," he rasped. "You like that."
It wasn't a question. He read your body as easily as he read the tabbed pages of your sociology textbook.
He keeps pinching and playing as he trails soft kisses from your collarbones and lower, purposefully avoiding where you want his mouth. He was kissing all around your breasts, teasing you with featherlight touches until you're squirming and whining.
"Shh, be patient." He whispers against the skin of your breast. "I'll get there."
He does it again to the other breast. The pinch, the pleasure, the feeling of being completely at his mercy. He was testing you, seeing what made you gasp, what made you squirm. And you were arching into his touch, a silent plea for more.
He finally lowered his head, taking one peaked nipple into the warm, wet heat of his mouth. He sucked gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, before grazing it lightly with his teeth.
The whimper that left you was undignified. Needy.
He pulled back, releasing you with a soft 'pop'. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with an emotion you'd never seen directed at you before. Possessiveness. Pride. Awe.
"Look what you do to me," he murmured, one of his hands releasing yours to guide your own down, pressing it flat against the hard bulge straining against the denim of his jeans.
"You're going to have to take care of that later, aren't you?" He says, pushing your hips down a little, making you grind against him.
The friction was obscene, a delicious drag through the layers of clothing that sent sparks skittering up your spine. You did it again, a little more boldly, rocking yourself against the rigid length of him. A groan rumbled in his chest, a purely male, primal sound of appreciation.
"Not yet," he said, his grip on your waist tightening, stopping your movements. "That's a reward. And you haven't earned it yet."
He shifted you slightly, adjusting your position so you could feel him more acutely, a perfect, infuriating pressure against your clothed core. His free hand drifted down to the waistband of your leggings. His fingers toyed with the elastic, a casual touch that made your entire body clench with anticipation.
"You're soaked through already, aren't you, princess?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I can feel it. All this fuss just from me playing with your pretty tits."
"Is that weird?" You ask, a little nervous now.
"Not at all. It's perfect." He says gently. "It means your body is honest. It tells the truth. And right now, your body is telling me how much you want this."
His fingers dipped below the waistband, not touching you where you craved it most, but just resting against the soft skin there.
"We could stop right now," he offered, his tone maddeningly level. "We can stop anytime you want. We can just put your shirt back on, order a pizza, and fail our sociology midterm together. All you have to do is say one word. Do you remember our word?"
"Dragonfruit," you whispered, testing it on your tongue. It felt foreign, distant. Not what you wanted at all.
"Now, tell me what you do want."
You took a shaky breath. "I want you to touch me."
"Touch you where? You have to use your words."
Every nerve ending was on fire. "My... I want you to touch me between my legs."
"Good girl."
He finally moved, his hand sliding further down, past the damp cotton of your underwear, through your slick folds. He didn't rush, exploring you with a surgeon's precision.
"This pussy is so fucking wet for me, princess." He breathes out in awe.
He found your clit with an unnerving ease, a single finger circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. You jolted, a sharp inhale of pleasure.
"Right there?" he asked, feigning innocence.
You could only nod, your head falling back against his shoulder as he continued his slow, torturous circles. He was drawing it out, making you feel every spark, every tremor. You were wound so tight, a trembling knot of need.
Your hips began to move of their own accord, chasing the friction, the building pressure. But he stopped you again, holding you still with a firm grip.
"Uh-uh. My pace," he chided softly. "You don't get to finish until I say you can."
A whimper escaped your lips, a sound of pure frustration.
"Patience," he murmured, kissing your temple.
You notice now, that he hasn't kissed your lips, but you don't make a comment on it, too busy feeling everything else to care.
He was a master of this, a conductor of your pleasure. He varied the pressure, the speed, watching your every reaction, learning what made you gasp, what made you whine. He slipped a finger inside you, then a second, curling them upward to stroke that spot that made your vision blur.
"You think I should let you come soon?" he asked, his voice a dark, intimate rumble. "You've been so good for me. Sitting still. Taking what I give you."
"Please," you begged, the word ripped from you. "Eddie, please."
"Please what?"
"Please let me finish."
He chuckled, a low, wicked sound. "Since you asked so nicely."
He increased the pressure on your clit, the circles becoming faster, more demanding. His fingers inside you stroked with renewed purpose. The tension in your belly coiled tighter and tighter, a spring ready to snap.
"That's it, sweetheart. Let go. Soak my fucking hand." he commanded.
You were cumming by the time he said 'let go', your body convulsing in a blinding wave of pleasure. You cried out, your back arching, your hands still trapped behind you, leaving you nothing to hold onto but him. He held you through it, his movements slowing, gentling, as you shuddered and trembled.
When you were riding out the after shocks he released your hands, letting you decide where to put them. You immediately brought them around to his shoulders, clinging to him. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, catching your breath.
His hands came up to your back, stroking you slowly, grounding you. He whispered sweet nothings against your hair, words of praise and affection.
"I know that wasn't as extreme as what your little book had, but trust needs to be built up slowly for things like that." He says softly, kissing your shoulder. "We'll get there.
You could feel the rapid, steady beat of his heart against your cheek. You could still feel the hard press of his arousal against you, a silent testament to his own restraint.
"Eddie..." you whispered, your voice hoarse. "You didn't..."
He shushed you, a finger gently tilting your chin up. "Hey. it's okay. Tonight was about you. About learning you."
You looked at him, really looked at him. His hair was a mess, his lips were swollen from where he'd been kissing your skin, and his eyes were dark and soft and full of an emotion that made your chest ache.
Without thinking, you leaned in and finally, finally kissed him.
He didn't move at first and you pulled back quickly, suddenly feeling stupid.
Was kissing not okay in this arrangement?
Did he only want the physical part?
Did he even like you like that?
Before you could speak, he did it first.
"Hey you, don't look like that. It's not what you think." He says gently.
"I- I just thought..."
"I know what you thought. And it's okay. I wanted to kiss you. More than anything."
"So why didn't you?" You ask, not in an accusatory tone, but a genuinely curious one.
"Because if I kissed you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I wouldn't have been able to handle it if this was just a one-time thing. Or if this was just about sex. I wouldn't have been able to control myself, and we might not be here right now."
This confession was so raw, so vulnerable. It was more intimate than anything you'd done.
"So... what is this then?" You ask, your heart pounding.
"It's whatever you want it to be." He says honestly. "But I want it to be something. Something real."
You lean in again, slowly, giving him the chance to pull away.
He didn't.
He met you halfway, his lips finally claiming yours. It wasn't a kiss of frenzy or desperation. His hands cupped your face, holding you tenderly, as if you were something precious. His lips were soft, tasting faintly of you, of the cola he'd been drinking hours ago. He kissed you slowly, deeply, a conversation without words.
When you finally parted, you were both breathless.
"Do you still want me to do something about..." You trail off, letting your eyes flick down to the very prominent problem in his pants.
He groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. "Princess, you have no idea how much I want that. But I also want to do this right. So... right now, nothing too demanding, just let me fuck your brains out?"
You laughed, a real, genuine laugh that made your whole body feel lighter.
"You're an idiot."
"You know what?" He says with a teasing smile, before flipping you so he was hovering over you on the bed. "I like it better when you're on your back, anyway."
He made quick work of your leggings and underwear, tossing them aside. He stood up to strip off his own clothes, and you watched him, your gaze hungry. You'd seen him shirtless before, at the lake, at a party, but this was different.
The chain around his neck rested in the dip of his collarbone. His chest was lean, a smattering of dark hair trailing down his stomach, disappearing into the waistband of his boxers. He was all sharp angles and wiry strength. And as he pulled down his boxers, your breath hitched.
"You want this huh? This is what you were grinding against earlier?" He smirks. He was long and thick, flushed with arousal, curving up towards his stomach.
He climbed back onto the bed, settling himself between your legs.
"Take what you want," he commanded, his voice a low growl.
Your hand trembled as you reached between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around him. He was hot and heavy in your palm as you guided him to your entrance, and he pushed forward, just the head breaching you.
A shared gasp. You were so wet, so ready for him, but the stretch was still intense, a delicious burn.
"Oh, good girl, you listen so fucking well," he praised, before sliding the rest of the way home with one slow, deep thrust.
He filled you completely, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
"Fuck," he breathed, burying his face in your neck. "You feel better than I ever imagined."
He started to move, a slow, deep rhythm that stole the air from your lungs. Every drag of his cock against your inner walls was a fresh wave of pleasure. This was different from the sharp, focused intensity from before. This was a deep, all-consuming fire.
"Look at me," he demanded, pulling back just enough to see your face. "Hold on to the headboard."
You obeyed, your hands finding the cool metal bars of your headboard, as he began to move again. This new angle let him hit that spot inside you with every thrust, making your toes curl. He wasn't just fucking you anymore. He was claiming you. Marking you from the inside out.
"Who's making you feel this good?" he grunted, his hips snapping a little faster.
"You are," you moaned, your knuckles white where you gripped the headboard.
"Whose cock makes you feel this good?" He asks, a dark look in his eyes.
"Yours," you gasped, the words torn from you. "Only yours, Eddie."
"Fuck yes, it does." He says, a smirk on his face. "Not some loser from the dining hall." He speeds up a little, getting cocky. "Not your project partner. You wanna know who knows exactly what to do with you? Me." He punctuates his words with a hard thrust and you can't help but arch your back.
"You're mine now, sweetheart. This pussy is mine to use." His voice is a rough possessive rasp as he leans down to whisper softly in your ear. "Gimme a color, princess. Are we green?"
You were so far gone, but you knew what he was asking. "Green," you moaned. "So green, Eddie."
He smiled, a triumphant, feral grin. "Good girl. You want me to keep talking like this, honey? You want me to tell you how I'm going to fuck you every day after our study sessions from now on? How I'm going to bend you over that desk until you're screaming my name?"
"Yes," you whined, a desperate, needy sound. "Please."
"Then I guess I'll have to do it." His hips began to piston faster, the headboard knocking against the wall in a steady, rhythmic beat. "Would you like that, sweetheart? To be my good little girl? To cum whenever I say?"
"I would," you cried out. "God, I would."
He brought a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit again. He didn't circle it this time. He pressed down, hard, in direct counterpoint to his thrusts.
"Cum for me," he commanded. "All over my cock."
Your orgasm ripped through you, violent and overwhelming. You screamed his name, a raw, ragged sound, as you convulsed around him, your body spasming with the force of your release.
"Mmm, gonna wake up the whole dorm." He praised. "Such a good fucking girl." He kept thrusting through it, prolonging your pleasure until you were a sobbing, writhing mess beneath him.
He pulled out and kissed you softly, the kiss slow and deep as you shook under him. You could feel his erection against your thigh, hot and hard and insistent.
"You still haven't..." You begin, trailing off again as you try and catch your breath.
"I haven't bent you over the desk yet." He grins, before he pulls you up from your comfortable spot on your back.
His hands were on you instantly, guiding you to your feet and then turning you, walking you the few steps to your desk. He swept his arm across it, the textbook with the red tabs, a stack of flashcards—all of it clattering to the floor in a mess of academic debris.
His lips are kissing by your ear as he speaks, caging you in from behind. "You need me to get a condom?" He asks, and you are a little surprised by the question.
"I'm on the pill." You say quickly, and he makes a happy humming sound, kissing the back of your neck.
"Perfect." He whispers, before he's pressing your chest flat against the desk. The cool wood was a shock against your heated skin.
"Think you can handle a little more for me, baby?" He asked, his hands stroking over your ass.
You nod, your face turned to the side, your cheek pressed against the smooth wood.
"Use your words."
"Yes," you breathe out. "I can handle more."
He doesn't enter you right away. Instead, he kneels, spreading your cheeks, and you feel the hot, wet shock of his tongue against your pussy. He licks a long, slow stripe from your clit to your entrance, groaning at the taste.
"Fuck, you're delicious," he murmurs, before diving back in.
He was relentless, eating you out with a single-minded focus that left you trembling. He alternated between broad, flat strokes of his tongue and pointed, targeted flicks against your clit.
His hands grip at the fat of your ass as he eats you out like a man starved, and you can't help but push your hips back against him. He eats it until your legs are shaking and you're whining for him to stop. When he does, he stands up, his chest heaving.
He pauses and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. You glance behind you to see him taking the rings off his right hand, leaning over your back to put them on the desk as he places small kisses on your back.
"What are you..."
Your whisper turns into a whine when a callous palm hits your ass cheek. Not hard, but enough that you gasp at the suddenness.
He shushes you gently, rubbing the reddening mark. "Just a little color for my pretty girl." He murmurs. "You like that? Just a little sting?"
You nod, your mind fuzzy with pleasure and confusion.
"Words, baby." He reminds you.
"Y-yes. I like it."
He spanks you again, this one harder, and you feel the jolt of it deep in your core. He alternates between spanking you and rubbing the tender skin, until you're a quivering, whimpering mess.
Another smack and you don't even register when he lines himself up with your entrance, and glides in, slick and easy, bottoming out with a deep groan. The angle was different, deeper, and it made you feel utterly possessed.
He set a brutal pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the small room, mingling with your moans and his ragged breaths. One of his hands grabs your face as he leans over to kiss you.
"Taste how fucking sweet you are?" He whispers against your lips. You're nodding dumbly as he continues to fuck you, tongue licking into your mouth.
His other hand slides around your body, finding your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles. It was too much, too intense, and you tried to squirm away.
"Uh-uh. You take it," he commanded, his voice a low growl.
"Take everything I give you, princess." He was praising you, his words stoking the fire in your belly. You were already so sensitive from your previous orgasms, every drag of his cock against your walls a fresh wave of pleasure.
"Please," you begged, not even sure what you were asking for.
More? Faster? For it to never end?
"I know, I know." He cooed at you. "Good girls like you need to be fucked until they can't think straight."
You clenched around him, and he grunted, his rhythm faltering for a second.
"Yeah, you like me saying that, don't you? You like being my good girl." He punctuates his words with a hard thrust that makes you see stars.
Your clit was throbbing under his thumb, the pleasure so sharp it was almost pain. Your body was a live wire, humming with a frantic, desperate energy.
"Gonna cum," you sobbed, the words barely intelligible. "Eddie, I'm gonna cum."
He pressed you down more against the desk, his hips snapping faster, harder. He leans over your back so you can feel the sweat from his chest on your skin as he speaks right into your ear.
"Come on," he urged, his voice rough with strain. "Cum for me. One. More. Fucking. Time."
You whined out, needier than ever, as your body convulsed, your inner walls clamping down on him. Your legs gave out, and you would have collapsed to the floor if he hadn't been holding you up, pinning you to the desk.
He gathered your hair in one of his hands, pulling your head back slightly, the angle new and dizzying as he keeps fucking you through your orgasm. This let him see your face as he uses you for his own pleasure. He looked wild, untamed, his pupils blown wide with lust.
"That's it, baby. Milk my cock. Such a good fucking girl." He moans as he starts to lose the steady rhythm. You could feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming erratic, more desperate.
"Gonna fill you up," he growled, his grip on your hair tightening. "Mark this pretty little pussy as mine."
With a final, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt, and you felt the hot pulse of his release deep inside you. He stayed there for a long moment, his forehead resting against your back, both of you breathing heavily, trying to come back to earth.
His hand in your hair changed from a grip to soothing stokes
His fingers danced up your body from their ruthless attack of your clit, to splay across your stomach. You feel him press gently. He was still inside of you. Softening, but still present.
"You okay?" he murmured against your spine, the words muffled by his soft kisses to your skin.
You managed a weak nod, not trusting your voice.
He laughed softly, the vibration traveling through you. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."
He slowly pulled out, and the emptiness you felt was acute. You could feel his release begin to trickle down your thigh, a sticky, intimate reminder of what you'd just done.
He helped you to the bed, tugging you back into his arms. You both were sweaty, sticky, and your room was a mess. You couldn't bring yourself to care.
You curled into his side, your head on his chest. The steady, reassuring beat of his heart was a comforting anchor in the haze of satiation.
His hands never stopped caressing through your hair.
He was quiet for a long time, just stroking your hair and pressing soft kisses to your forehead.
"So," he said, his voice quiet. "Is the reality better than the book?"
You thought about it for a second. The book was theory. This was practice. This was real.
"I thought you said you weren't done with me?" You manage, weakly.
He just pulls his head back enough to get a proper look at your face, the most genuine smile accentuated by his dimples.
"Yeah, the aftercare. The cuddles. The praise. That's all part of it." He said, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Being the one who has to clean up our mess."
He sits up, leaning over the side of the bed to grab the t-shirt he'd been wearing earlier. He carefully, almost reverently, began to clean you up. The cotton was soft against your sensitive skin.
"You're so good at that," You say softly, referring to the entire night, but more specifically the way he was taking care of you.
"Yeah? Well I'm a man of many talents." He teases, but the way he's looking at you is soft.
He's gentle, methodical, as he wipes away the evidence of your night together. Once he's satisfied, he tosses the shirt aside and pulls the comforter over both of you, cocooning you in the warmth of the small bed.
You're quiet for a long time again. Just listening to each other breathe.
"Hey," he whispered.
"Hm?"
"About the kiss earlier..." he started, his voice a little hesitant. "When I said I didn't know if I could handle it if this was just a one-time thing... I meant it."
He shifts a little, so he's looking you in the eye. "This was never gonna be just a one-time thing for me. You have to know that. I've been wanting this for so long."
You are looking up at him in the dim light of your desk lamp. He's looking at you with a unguarded expression that you'd never seen from him before.
"You really have? I thought... I thought this was just... you know, because of the book."
He let out a small, breathy laugh. "Sweetheart, the book was just a convenient excuse. A cosmic sign from the universe to finally do something about the massive, soul-crushing crush I've had on you since we were assigned as lab partners in freshman chemistry."
His signature smirk reappeared then.
"The fact that you're also into the same filthy shit I am? That's just a very, very lucky bonus."
You couldn't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from your chest. It was a laugh of pure, unadulterated happiness.
"So, what now?" You ask, your voice barely a whisper.
"Now I get to enjoy this body being all soft in my arms." He says, kissing your forehead. "Now I get to wake up next to you and make you breakfast. Now I get to walk you to our sociology class and sit next to you knowing exactly what you sound like when you orgasm."
He pulls you closer. "And now I get to tell you that I want to be your boyfriend. If you'll have me."
You tilt your head up to look at him, a slow, genuine smile spreading across your face.
"I'll have you," you said simply.
"Oh, no enthusiasm for the man who made you cum three times in an hour?" He teases gently. You just lean up and kiss him, soft and sweet.
"I think you fucked all the enthusiasm out of me." You mumble against his lips.
He chuckles, satisfied and proud.
"It's a skill." He smirks. "But don't worry. I'm a great teacher. We'll build up your stamina." He winks, and you feel a fresh wave of heat wash over you.
He pulls you to his chest, safe and warm. You could get used to this.
"Next time," he whispers against your hair. "Next time I'll bring my ropes."
You press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "I'll hold you to that."
He held you tighter, a silent promise. The night wasn't over. Your time exploring each other, it seemed, had really just begun.
Eddie accidentally witnesses you using something that has you making noises he’s certainly never heard before. And that just won’t do.
TW/CW: shameless smut & a lil bit of voyeurism as a treat. teamwork makes the dream work & I think Eddie knows that ! (no use of y/n)
~~~~~~~
The click of the front door was impossibly loud in the quiet of the hallway, even though you’d assured him a hundred times that your roommates slept like the dead. Eddie Munson, champion of the guitar and master of stealth, froze for a beat, listening for the telltale creak of floorboards, the shuffle of slippers, or maybe a dramatic “who goes there?”
Nothing.
He slipped inside, the worn leather of his jacket squeaking softly as he locked the door behind him. He pocketed the key you’d made for him - a gesture that still made his chest feel tight whenever he thought about it - and headed toward the stairs. It was late. Well past eleven on a Thursday, and he figured you’d be either asleep or waiting up for him with a textbook in your lap.
He was halfway up the staircase when he heard it.
A sound.
It wasn't the TV. It was a low, muffled keen, breathless and desperate, drifting from the crack under your bedroom door. Eddie stopped, his grip tightening on the banister. His mind instantly jumped to intruders, or injury, or some other nightmare scenario Hawkins liked to throw at them.
He crept the rest of the way up, moving silently in his heavy boots. He reached your door, hand hovering over the knob, ready to burst in and save the day - catch whoever it was unaware. But then he heard it again. A ragged gasp, followed by a groan that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
That wasn't pain.
Eddie hesitated. He knew he should knock. Announce himself. But the curiosity was a sudden, hot hook in his gut. He leaned in, pushing the door open just an inch, just enough to see through into your room, lit only by the warm glow of your bedside lamp.
The sight knocked the air out of his lungs.
You were on your bed, legs spread wide, sheets shoved to the side. Your head was thrown back against the pillows, your face flushed a deep, pretty pink, mouth parted as you panted for air. Between your thighs, your hand was moving in frantic, practiced circles, and there, nestled right against your center, was a bright purple vibrator.
He’d never seen you like this.
You were usually more on the shy side with him. Sweet and a little tentative, letting him lead. But here, alone, you were another story entirely. Your back was arched, your muscles taut, and the sounds falling from your lips were quiet, but raw. You let out a long, ragged moan that sounded absolutely wrecked, your hips bucking up to meet the buzzing toy.
Eddie leaned harder against the doorframe, his breath catching in his throat. He felt like a voyeur. A dirty thief stealing a glance at something holy, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. He watched the way your free hand gripped your breast, fingers digging into the soft skin, pinching your nipple in a way that made you cry out sharply.
His mind was racing as he watched the rhythm of your wrist. Fast, then slow, then grinding down hard. He listened to the pitch of your voice, learning the difference between the whimpers that meant buildup and the gasps that meant you were right there on the edge. With a sudden jolt of insecurity, he realized that he’d never made you make those noises. Not exactly. He’d never made you look this undone.
The vibrator seemed to hum louder, and you cried out, "Oh god -"
Eddie’s jeans were becoming painfully tight. He swallowed hard, hand clenching around the edge of the doorframe until his knuckles turned white. Should he leave?. Go back downstairs, make a bunch of noise, give you time to pretend you were doing something else - just in case you were embarrassed for some reason? Or should he just walk in and join you?
But for another moment, he just watched. He watched you chase your high with a single-minded intensity that was mesmerizing. He saw your thighs start to shake, saw your toes curl into the duvet. You were close - those sounds, at least, were comfortingly familiar. He could tell by the way your breath hitched - the quiet, open-mouthed cry that tore from your throat as you tensed up.
Eddie took one last mental snapshot. Your face. Your hand. The angle of your hips… And then he pulled back into the shadows of the hallway.
Taking a deep breath, he steadying himself. If he went in there now, he was going to lose his mind - and there was a possibility you’d feel awkward that he’d seen you during such a private moment. He needed to play this cool. Needed to make sure he made you feel that good - or hopefully better - next time.
Eddie backed up a few steps, right to the top of the stairs. Then, he put his boots down hard.
Thud
Eddie walked heavily toward the door, jingling the rings on his keys in his pocket, pretending to cough. He knocked before pushing it open - awaiting your come in?. He leaned against the frame with a cheerful smirk that he hoped masked the sheer desperation thrumming through his veins.
"Hey there, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice rough and low, his eyes locked on yours. "Did I miss the party?"
You had nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his footsteps on the stairs, scrambling to sit up, reposition your underwear, and yank the duvet over your lower half, hiding the vibrator beneath the blanket. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, but you forced a relaxed smile onto your face, hoping the dim lighting would hide the guilty flush you knew was still burning across your cheeks.
"Eddie!" You exclaimed, your voice coming out a little higher than usual. "You scared the shit outta me. I thought you were at the shop late tonight."
Your boyfriend sauntered into the room, shutting the door and locking it softly behind him. His eyes roamed over your face, lingering on your lips, which you realized were still swollen from the way you’d sunk your teeth into them. You quickly wetted them, trying to look casual.
"Wrapped up early," he said, his gaze dropping to the messy tangle of sheets at the foot of the bed before snapping back to yours. "Thought I'd come surprise my best girl." He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your stomach flip. "You okay? You look a little... flushed."
"I'm fine," you lied, patting the empty space beside you. "Just hot. The heater is acting up again, I think."
Eddie huffed a short laugh, kicking off his heavy boots and shedding his jacket before climbing onto the mattress. The bed dipped under his weight, the familiar scent of leather, cigarettes, and his cologne washing over you. It was comforting, grounding, but the way he was looking at you made you feel like you were standing naked in the middle of a courtroom.
"You're burning up, sweetheart,” he murmured, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face. His fingers lingered on your neck, his thumb pressing against your racing pulse. "Sure you aren't coming down with something? You look... Worked up."
You leaned into his touch, ignoring the way your body was still thrumming with residual adrenaline and need. "I'm good. Just missed you."
"Missed you too," he whispered, but there was a dark glint in his eyes that betrayed his soft tone. He shifted closer, one arm wrapping around your waist to pull you against him.
Before you could fully settle in, his hand slipped down, gliding beneath the hem of your oversized t-shirt and moving straight between your legs. You gasped, your body jerking at the sudden contact, but he didn't stop. His palm pressed firmly against the damp fabric of your underwear before he let his finger ghost along the lacy edges.
"Whoa," he breathed, his voice dropping an octave. "You really are worked up."
"Eddie," you choked out, grabbing his wrist but not pulling him away. You tried to shift your hips, but he held you firm, his middle finger teasingly stroking you through the wet lace.
"You l already warmed up for me?” His tone was maddeningly innocent, as if he were just commenting on the weather. "Tryin’ to skip out on foreplay, huh?"
"I-“ You stumbled over your words, your face heating up even more. "No, I was just... Just thinking about you."
"Yeah?"
“Yeah.”
He leaned in, his nose brushing against your jawline, his lips hovering just over your ear. "Were you thinking about me when you were making those pretty noises a minute ago?"
Your breath hitched, but you kept your eyes fixed on his chest, refusing to look at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Liar," he whispered. Eddie moved his fingers then, pushing the fabric aside to slide through your slick folds. You gasped, head falling back as he circled your clit with agonizing slowness - recreating the exact rhythm you’d been using on yourself just moments ago.
“I’m n-not a li-“
“You can't even look me in the eye, sweetheart. You're trembling."
He added a little pressure, his touch firm and deliberate, dragging a needy moan from your throat.
"I think you're lying to me," he murmured against your skin, pressing a hot kiss to your neck. "I think you were in here having a little fun without me.” He bit down gently on your earlobe. When he spoke next, his voice was ragged. "I think you should tell me exactly what you were doing."
You squeezed your eyes shut, your resolve crumbling as his fingers continued their relentless movements.
"I was...”
“Don’t be shy, baby. I wanna know. Wanna make you feel good.”
“I was… T-touching myself," you confessed, cheeks heating with the admission.
Would Eddie be mad? That you’d gotten pleasure from something that wasn’t him? Surely he wouldn’t. He was pretty openminded when it came to sex. Plus, he didn’t seem angry. Just curious.
Eddie hummed, pleased. "Good girl," he praised, his fingers never stopping. "But I saw how you were doing it. And I don't think you were just using your hand, were you?"
The game was up. You thought you may have heard something on the stairs - but you’d ignored it in the moment. But now Eddie knew. He had watched you, and now he was using that information to take you apart piece by delicious piece. What was more - you kind of liked that he’d seen you like that.
"Wanna show me?" He asked softly, though it wasn't really a request as much as it was a gentle command. "Show me what you were using."
The silence stretched taut between you, vibrating with the same tension that was currently thrumming through your limbs. You swallowed hard as you watched his face. Eddie didn't look angry. He looked starved. Almost desperate
"Show me.” He repeated, his voice dropping to a rough, velvet timbre that settled low in your stomach.
With a shaky breath, you reached under the heavy duvet. Your fingers brushed the cool, smooth silicone of the toy. Slowly, awkwardly, you withdrew it. As if delaying the inevitable would make things any less weird.
Eddie’s eyes locked onto the device, a dark smirk curling his lips. He plucked it from your loose grip, turning it over and examining the way the silicone glistened under the amber light of your bedside lamp.
"Mhmm so this is the culprit?" He mused, his tone teasing but laced with an edge. He dragged a finger through the slickness coating the shaft, collecting your arousal before bringing his finger to his mouth. His eyes never left yours as he sucked it clean, groaning slightly. "Tastes like heaven. But I have to wonder... Is this little piece of plastic better than the real thing?"
You shook your head frantically, your skin flushing hot. "No. It's not, Eddie, it’s just… Different, I guess? I “
"Shh," he hushed you, leaning down to cage you in with his arms. He tossed the vibrator onto the mattress beside your hip. "I'm not jealous of a battery, sweetheart. I'm just... Curious."
Eddie shifted his weight, one knee sliding between yours to nudge them apart. You yielded instantly, opening for him, desperate for the contact. He settled heavily between your thighs, the rough denim of his jeans scraping against your sensitive skin. The friction sent a jolt of pleasure straight up your spine.
"You looked so pretty," he murmured, his nose tracing the line of your jaw, his breath hot against your ear. "All laid out like that. But you were rushing. I saw you." He nipped at the sensitive skin just below your ear, making you shudder.
"I couldn't help it," you admitted, your hands tangling in his hair to pull him closer. "I just… I needed something quick."
"I know you did, baby. Can’t blame you.” His hand sliding down your side, thumb hooking into the waistband of your panties. "But you shouldn't settle for quick. Not when I'm here to give you exactly what you need."
He tugged the fabric down, stripping you bare in one swift motion. The cool air hit your overheated skin, but before you could react, his hand was there, covering you. His palm was hot and calloused, searing against you. He didn't tease anymore as his middle finger slipping through your to circle your clit with firm, deliberate pressure.
You arched off the bed, a broken moan tearing from your throat. It felt electric, vastly different from the detached buzz of the toy. This was Eddie.
"That's it," he groaned, feeling the way your hips bucked against his hand. "God, you really were close, weren't you?"
"I heard you," you gasped, your eyes squeezing shut as he increased the pressure on your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles that made your toes curl. "I heard… On the stairs."
"Mhm," he hummed, sounding pleased. "And you didn't stop. You just kept going. Such a dirty girl."
Eddie’s words made you feel hot all over, but then he pulled his hand away suddenly, leaving you aching and empty. You whined in protest, your eyes flying open to find him watching you with a dark, hungry intensity. He reached for the discarded vibrator.
"I think," he said, clicking the device on once more, "that we can do better than just a battery. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its uses, though. I’m not against a little teamwork - especially since it makes you feel so good.”
He leaned back on his haunches, shoving his jeans down and kicking them off. Your breath hitched at the sight of his length. Thick, hard, and all for you. He took himself in hand, stroking slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.
"Spread wider for me, sweetheart.”
You obeyed, your knees falling open as wide as they could go, exposing yourself completely to him. Eddie scooted closer, lining himself up. But instead of pushing into you immediately, he brought the buzzing tip of the vibrator to rest right against your clit.
The sensation was immediate and overwhelming. The vibration was intense, pinpointed in a way his fingers couldn't be. You cried out, hips writhing at the sudden stimulation.
"Shh, take it," he murmured, using his free hand to grip your hip, holding you steady. "I'm going to fill you up, and I want you to keep this right here. Think you can handle both?"
"Yes," you breathed, your body trembling with anticipation. "Please, Eddie."
"Good girl."
He pressed the vibrator firmly against your clit, trapping it between his pelvic bone and your body as he guided the head of his cock to your entrance. He pushed inside slowly, inch by thick inch. The stretch was exquisite, burning in the best way possible. You felt full, and the dual sensation of the deep penetration and the vibrating stimulation against your most sensitive spot threatening to shatter you instantly.
"Fuck," he gritted out, his head falling forward as he seated himself fully inside you, grasping at coherent words. “You feel incredible.“
He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to the invasion, letting the relentless hum of the toy work you over. The pressure was building rapidly, a tight coil in your belly that was already threatening to snap.
"Eddie," you whined, your nails digging into his forearms. "Move. Please."
Your boyfriend didn't need to be told twice. He pulled back slowly, dragging his heavy length against your sensitive walls, before slamming back in. The force of the thrust drove the vibrator harder against your clit, and you swore you saw stars.
He set a rather ruthless pace, his desperation and desire were little match for any other emotion. Eddie was relentless, driving into you with a force that made the bed frame slam against the wall - and you prayed your roommates were fast asleep. The vibrator was a constant, maddening pressure against you, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins with every stroke. The sounds that tore from your throat were positively lewd, and you didn’t even care.
"Look at you," Eddie panted, his skin sheening with sweat. "Doin’ so good for me, aren’t you?"
"D-don't stop."
"I'm not stopping," he growled, changing the angle slightly. He hit that spot inside you that made your vision blur and your back bowed off the bed. "Lemme hear you, baby -"
He shifted his grip on the vibrator, adjusting the pressure. Instead of just holding it there, he began to move it in small, tight circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. You cried out. The extra stimulation was your undoing. The pleasure spiked, sharp and blinding, tearing a half scream, half sob from your throat.
"Let go, baby." Eddie’s voice was rough and strained. "Let go for me."
Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave on the beach. Your body seized up, your muscles locking as release ripped through you. Eddie groaned, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own end, burying his face in your neck and murmuring nonsense.
He drove into you one last time, deep and hard, and stilled. You felt the heat of him, filling you up, mixing with the overwhelming sensations still coursing through your body.
For a long time, the only sound was your combined ragged breathing and the faint, forgotten buzz of the vibrator still trapped between your bodies. Eventually, Eddie reached down and flicked it off, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.
Eddie collapsed on top of you, his weight grounding you, his heart pounding against your ribs in sync with your own. He pressed soft, lingering kisses to your temple, his hand coming up to stroke your hair gently.
"Best surprise ever," he murmured, a lazy, sated satisfaction in his voice. "We are definitely keeping that toy. But I think next time... Maybe you play while I watch."
You laughed weakly, your body boneless and spent. "You liked watching, huh?"
"Loved it," he admitted, pressing a kiss to your lips. "But I love anything that makes you happy."
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