3.5k wc, Eddie X afab!reader, MDNI — 18+ explicit content- porn with plot. little to no description of reader, no y/n, no upside down, Eddie & Reader are 21+ Warnings: consensual power dynamics, power exchange, sub!Eddie, dom!reader, mild punishment, overstimulation, praise kink, use of "good boy," light dacryphilia, soft domming, soft aftercare, eddie calls reader “sweetheart” A/N: I’m rewatching s4 to help with a canon WIP and well, Eddie Munson is just so pretty when he cries. (Dividers by @ strangergraphics) Feedback/likes/ reblogs are greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading & as always, I hope you enjoy! XO, Scarlet 💋
Eddie Munson liked being in control.
He figured it all started with the lack of it in his life. Cancer had ripped his mother away from him. Until his uncle took him in, he was raised by a deadbeat father who constantly dragged him into shitty situations. Or maybe it was just the simple fact that he’d grown up in a small town where he was bestowed the title of freak, with no say in the matter. Really, the list went on.
So of course, as he got older — got out of Hawkins — he began to find control in all kinds of ways. His favorite was in the bedroom.
Men and women of Brooklyn, handcuffed to his headboard as he had his way with them. All fun and games — entirely consensual. Many people loved the idea of being dominated by the frontman of Corroded Coffin.
But like most things in life, there’s always an exception.
You’d worked as the makeup artist on set for the band’s last few video shoots.
Anytime Eddie was in your chair, there was flirting, little compliments, holding each other’s gaze much longer than necessary. Or, to call it what it really was — full on eye fucking.
Unfortunately, Eddie’s manager had a strict “no mixing business with pleasure” rule. And as much as it killed him, he waited.
On the last day of shooting the final video for the album, you were powdering Eddie’s face for the camera when he couldn’t stop smirking — especially when you leaned in close and muttered, “You really do have obnoxiously good lips.”
Everyone had gone out for drinks after the shoot, a post wrap celebration of sorts. Halfway through his second drink, Eddie couldn't hold off any longer, leaning in to whisper, "You wanna get out of here?" into the shell of your ear.
He thought about kissing you in the cab — wanted to — but the ride to his apartment was short, the kind that barely gave you time to settle in.
The moment you stepped inside, you made yourself at home. You moved through the narrow hallway like you’d been there before, fingers trailing the walls until you found his room.
"It's been fucking torture, staring at those lips, y'know."
And in one stride, he was on you — crashing his mouth against yours, hands cradling your cheeks. All he could taste was the rum on your tongue.
Maybe it was the anticipation. Or maybe it was just you — but Eddie was already losing himself in the kiss.
You’d talked about his lips before, but yours?
Soft. Plush. Addicting. Like the best fucking drug he’s ever had.
He moves from your lips to your jaw, then down to your neck, and suddenly his knees hit the floor before he even fully registers what he’s doing.
Heart thumping in his chest, the type of beat you can hear in your ears. He looks up at you from the ground, eyes wide. His hands run up your thigh, palms spreading over the soft flesh as he kneads it with the pads of his fingertips, inching up the hem of your dress.
You cock an eyebrow. “What do you think you’re doing, baby?”
Christ.
The words were sweet, but patronizing. Almost like you were looking down on him, more than the literal sense.
Eddie swallowed hard, his throat dry. Like for once in his life he was at a loss for words.
You tilted your head, studying him for a moment before leaning down just enough for him to feel your breath on his face. “I know all about your reputation, Eddie,” you smirked. “But would you be open to changing it up tonight? Let someone else call the shots.”
Giving up control? It wasn’t in his nature. Not anymore — not when he had the choice. It had never gone well with other partners. But surely, he was already halfway there — considering he was on his knees for you.
His voice cracked, but he managed a shaky laugh despite himself. “What do you have in mind?”
“Why don’t you go on your bed.”
His body moved before he could think it through. And as he sat on his mattress, his heart continued to hammer as he watched you begin to undress at the foot of the bed.
Your body was a vision. One he didn't feel lucky enough to be graced with. His hand reached for you on instinct, but recoiled at your words.
"Ah, ah, ah," you tsked. "No touching."
The irony wasn't lost on him. He'd used that line more times than he could count — and now here he was, desperate to feel you and yet forbidden to.
Call it some kind of cruel karma.
Maybe if he asks nicely.
"Please... let me touch you.”
"Hmm….. I don't know if I should yet," you teased. “Don't you think you should show a little restraint?"
Eddie scoffed.
You were toying with your prey. And he fucking hated it — yet, the rush of blood to his dick told him otherwise.
Your syrupy, sweet voice cut through his thoughts as your hands moved to unbutton his shirt.
"I'll tell you when you can touch me," you said softly. "I promise it'll be worth the wait. Does that sound good?"
He nodded.
"Words, baby. You've got to use your words."
Fuck. There it was again. Baby.
"Yes," he whispered, voice cracking.
You smiled — the same kind of grin he was used to giving partners. Like a twist of the knife, that promises one hell of a night.
"So, Eddie," you purred, amusement curling around your voice, "when you got on your knees… what exactly did you plan to do?"
"Wanted to taste you,” he rasped.
“I thought you might say that." You peeled off the rest his shirt, then ran your hands across his bare chest.
"Lay back for me," you said softly, pushing him toward the mattress.
Eddie's chest rose and fell in shallow, shaky breaths — equal parts terrified and thrilled as his head hit the pillow.
"I'm going to let you have just that, Eddie."
A groan slipped past his lips before he could stop it.
You giggled and the sound of your laugh taunted him — like a glimpse of heaven he was yearning to get to.
His gaze locked on you as you climbed onto the bed and crawled up to position yourself.
"Now, aside from your mouth, no touching," you commanded as you lowered yourself onto him, straddling his face.
Eddie's lips parted instinctively, pressing his mouth against you. So warm. So soft. So fucking wet. And all for him.
His cock strained painfully against his jeans, and he moaned into your heat as you mewled above him. Even as his hands ached to touch you, to grip your hips, to pull you down onto his tongue — he obeyed. His fists instead clenched into the comforter, knuckles white, as you rolled your hips against his mouth.
"Ah, fuck, yes. You’re such a good boy, Eddie."
He whimpered at the praise. It twisted something deep inside him, made him ache in ways he hadn't known were possible. And he fucking loved it. Wanted nothing more than to be your good boy — relentlessly tongue fucking you like it was the only thing he'd ever been meant to do. Like he was exactly where he belonged.
But as you eventually began to fall apart on his tongue, something like instinct took over. His hands rose to grip your shaky thighs, holding you to his mouth as he worked you through your climax. Feeling the warmth of your skin under his firm grip, while you writhed on his tongue was everything he could want.
But the look you gave him as you rolled off, kneeling next to him on the bed, calm, controlled, eyes boring straight into his — he knew he fucked up.
"Oh, Eddie," you said, tilting your head. "What did I tell you about touching me?"
"Right, yeah,” he breathed. "I just... I wanted you to enjoy it," he said, sitting up quickly.
The disappointment etched on your face even further and a brutal realization settled in — he'd given that same look before. A taste of his own medicine. And it was so fucking bitter.
"I’, fuck… sweetheart, I’m sorry.”
"I know you are. But you didn’t listen…. And you know what happens when someone doesn’t listen.”
"Oh," Eddie frowned. "I don’t —“
"Eddie." You arched an eyebrow. "What do you do when someone doesn't listen to you?"
"Punish them."
"That's right, baby. So what do you think is an appropriate punishment for this?"
He knew, but admitting it made his skin crawl. It was clear — he'd met his fucking match.
"Deprivation…. I'd edge them. Tease them until they were begging for it."
You paused, a playful glint flickering in your eyes.
Slowly, you leaned in, your lips brushing his ear. “Lucky for you... I'm not that cruel.”
He sighed the moment he felt you press down over his stiff cock.
"Go ahead, Eddie," you whispered, voice soft and indulgent. "You can touch me now."
Before the words had fully registered, your lips were on his — mouths crashing together, tongues colliding in needy haste.
His hands flew to your waist, dragging you closer, feeling the shape of you as your bare cunt began to grind over the hardened outline straining in his jeans.
His hands roamed like he couldn't get enough. Every curve, every inch of soft skin beneath his calloused fingertips. When his hands made their way to your ass, your teeth sank into his bottom lip, dragging back as your hips kept rolling over him.
A sharp hiss left his mouth, as you kissed along his jaw, slow and purposeful, until your mouth was hot on his ear.
"You’re gonna cum for me, Eddie," you whispered.
"F-fuck," he groaned, grip tightening on your ass as he buried his face in your neck, teeth sinking in to your supple skin, to stifle his moans.
The praises you were whispering into his ear were nearly incoherent. The white hot coil building deep within him, threatening to snap at any second.
You pulled back, hands moving form his shoulders to his cheeks, cradling his face softly, eyes locked and a sinful grin on your lips.
"In fact, you're going to cum again and again... until you've got nothing left to give." You rolled your hips especially hard and that was all it took.
The orgasm ripped through him, hips stuttering, cock twitching as he came with a desperate breathless, groan.
Clearly, you were that cruel.
His mind foggy and spent, as you were climbing off his lap and unbuttoning his jeans — peeling them down along with his soaked boxers.
His half hard cock was exposed, still twitching, still leaking.
Pathetic.
Only it didn’t look like you thought it was pathetic at all. You looked, proud.
Without a word, you settled on your knees between his legs. Your lips brushed over him soft, slow as you began to clean him up.
"Ahh, fuck," he groaned, voice already frayed, as you took him into your mouth.
You swirled your tongue around the sensitive head, licking up the mess he'd made, savoring the way his body tensed beneath you, the way his cock hardened again.
His hand found your cheek, caressing it shakily as his breathing quickened and you took him deeper. There was no time to recover, no chance for him to catch his breath — just your mouth, your tongue, and the slow build of aching, unbearable need.
“Fuck, sweetheart," he gasped.
His eyes were burning, that feeling when they get all glassy, and he could hardly keep them open.
You hollowed your cheeks harder, and his hand flew to your hair, gripping it tight, pulling you closer as he started to unravel.
His hips bucked, chasing the friction as you pushed him over the edge again.
"Shit-oh shit, shit—“
His body shuddered violently beneath you, his cock twitching in your mouth as his second orgasm tore through him, white hot cum shooting down your throat.
You swallowed it all before easing off him, with a smirk.
His chest rose and fell in erratic bursts, skin flushed, eyes unfocused-lost in the haze of overstimulation. “God. I, fuck, that was.. agh.”
You let out a soft laugh, and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "You okay, baby?"
He nodded weakly, still trying to find his breath.
"Yeah. Just... holy shit."
Your fingers grazed down his stomach, gentle, soothing but then dipped lower.
He twitched under your touch.
“Wait—fuck, sweetheart," he groaned as your hand wrapped around his cock. "I don't have anything left..”
"Mm. You sure about that baby?”
Eddie whined as your hand began to lazily stroke him. His hips involuntarily jerking. Even soft, he was still so sensitive, and your touch had him trying to figure out whether he could take any more.
"Please.”
"Please what?" you cooed, tilting your head.
"I... I can't go again," he whimpered.
You let out a soft sigh, feigning disappointment as your hand slowed. “Okay. If you really want me to stop-"
"No!" he gasped, the word breaking from him like it hurt to say.
The sting of your touch leaving was worse than the ache of overstimulation.
“Good," you whispered. "You haven't even had me yet.”
The sound that slipped from Eddie's lips was pitiful. He couldn’t help it, though. You had him utterly wrecked. Skin slick with sweat. Tears clinging to his lashes, His voice, hoarse and rough. All of it proof of how far he'd been pushed — how far he was still willing to go.
"You ready?"
His throat burned with restraint, the kind that made him want to nod, but he knew better. Knew you wanted verbal communication, so he mustered up the strength — answering with the most feeble 'yes.'
You slid yourself over him again, sinking yourself down on his length. Both of you gasping in unison.
Eddie’s cock felt incredible inside you — deep and thick and filling you so perfectly, like the final piece of a puzzle.
And your warmth wrapped around him like a vice, velvet heat clenching around his already sensitive cock.
Eddie cried out beneath you, that same pitiful noise from earlier.
"Does it hurt, baby?" you whispered, leaning in.
Yes.
You cupped his face gently. "Does it feel too good for you to take?"
Yes - again.
"Should I stop?"
God, no.
He may be overwhelmed and aching but still he needed more..
His wide, dilated eyes locked on yours — wet, desperate. "Don't want you to stop," he whimpered.
The smirk that curved your lips might've been the worst of it — cruel in its beauty, and dripping with satisfaction.
You stilled, just long enough for him to catch a breath.
Then you began to move - slowly, grinding down with a rhythm that made him groan.
After a few minutes, your hips began to rock gently, back and forth. The friction was tender but relentless. Eddie’s hands found your waist, gripping possessively — gritted teeth and sharp inhales indicating his struggle to hold it together.
As you continued to rock softly, a tear finally slipped from his lashes. Then another. And another one. All born out of beautiful agony.
“Aww, Eddie,” you whispered, caressing his cheeks and brushing away the tears with your thumbs. “You’re so pretty when you cry.”
His cheeks flushed, lips parting in a breathless gasp. That phrase alone, could undo him.
His tears fell freely now, tracing warm, silent paths down his skin — and you echoed again just how pretty as you continued to mercilessly ride him.
“Fuck, I’m gonna—"
"Not yet," you whispered. "Hold it for me. I'm so close — just a little longer.”
Fuck. Hold it. Just hold it, Munson.
Slowly, his hand slid down from your hip, trembling fingers finding your clit. He began to rub slow, tight circles — trying to help you get there, trying to distract himself from how badly he needed to let go.
Your breath caught, arching into his touch as your walls clenched around him.
"Ohhhh," you moaned. “So good… you’re such a good boy for me."
"Fuuuuuck,” he gasped. “Sweetheart… you can’t—can’t say that right now.”
The praise was too much. The feeling was too much. Pure pain and pleasure coursing through his veins, utterly consuming. Tears completely blurred his vision, as your body squeezed him. He was fighting with everything he had to restrain himself, holding off for you.
His fingers quickened on your clit, desperate for you to let go.
"Eddie," you purred, your hips rolling hard against his. “Fill me up, baby. I want every last drop."
Dear God.
That was it.
A guttural groan tore from his throat as his body convulsed beneath you. His left hand dug into your hip — surely leaving a bruise — while his right kept moving, frantic but reverent as his cock pulsed deep inside you.
His orgasm hitting so fucking hard, dragging cries from his lips as he spilled into you.
You rode every shuddering ripple, gasping into his mouth as your climax followed his.
Eddie couldn't move.
He was wrecked. Absolutely destroyed. Muscles twitching, trying to steady his breath.
You were to the right of him, one thigh slotted between his, your cheek resting against his chest. Your fingers traced lazy lines across his sternum. It toe the line of too much — every inch of him raw, tingling, burning — but he didn't tell you to stop. He couldn't, but even if he could, he wouldn’t.
He was still coming down, and your touch reminded him that you’d just ruined him in the best fucking way imaginable.
He thought he knew what giving up control — in this situation — would feel like. He'd tried it before. Hated every second of it. Felt exposed, wrong. Tapped out before he even got hard.
So when it came to tonight, he figured maybe he'd tolerate it. I mean, it was with you, after all. If anything he’d get off on the novelty. Chalk it up to a one time thing.
But that?
He’ll fucking curse his own goddamn existence if he never gets to have that again.
And it wasn't just the orgasms - though, holy hell, those alone had him completely fucking wrecked.
It was you.
"You're so pretty when you cry.”
The words have been playing on a loop in his head — the reverence behind them, the quiet awe in your eyes. No teasing, or taunting, you admired it. Sincerely.
You'd said you weren't as cruel as him. And while he'd started to doubt that for a second — turns out, you were right.
He’s not sure you ever could be.
Because Eddie likes to push when he's in control. Make someone beg. Draw it out. Break a sweat. While you did all of those things to him, it wasn’t in the same way.
Instead you met him, exactly where he needed. Graced him with your control, made him understand that sometimes control comes in the form of willingly relinquishing it to someone else.
You pull him from his thoughts, kissing a slow path up his collarbone.
"Baby," you whisper, lips brushing the edge of his jaw, "you with me?”
"Yeah," he murmurs, voice rough.
You press a kiss to his jaw, then another to his cheek. "How'd it feel?" you ask, fingers brushing through his hair. "Being on the receiving end?”
"I liked it.”
“Yeah?"
He huffs a soft laugh, still catching his breath. “Yeah. More than I thought I would."
You smile into his skin, smug and satisfied, and fuck, if that doesn't do something to him all over again.
“So it wasn't too much for you?" you tease, brushing your nose along his temple.
"No," he says. "Actually, I uh...I wouldn't mind being at your mercy again.”
“Mmm. That’s right” You drag your lips along the edge of his jaw. "Because you're such a good boy.”
He groans - deep and ragged - and you steal it with a kiss.
When you pull back, your forehead rests against his. "I'd be at yours too, y'know," you say softly.
“Are you sure? I’m not as graceful as you.”
“Oh I’m counting on that," you admit. “Think I’m in for a real treat.”
𐙚 eddie accidentally walks in on you changing in the locker room at school and falls in love with the cute pair of panties you're wearing.
WARNING(S) + OTHER INFO: eddie is 19 / reader is 18. unprotected sex.
first period gym is always a mess — half of hawkins high barely awake, the other half already sweaty and irritable. and eddie munson is always both after the first period of the day this year ; a schedule he didn't ask for, rather one that was thrust upon him by the school guidance counselor. he trudges out of the locker room with his backpack flung over one shoulder, muttering to himself about dodgeballs being ❝ weapons of jocks who peaked at sixteen. ❞
he desperately needs to pee before homeroom ; his morning coffee and cigarette are already staging a rebellion.
he tries the boys’ bathroom first, of course.
but finds every single stall occupied.
each one of them echoing with the sounds of boys talking through the stalls, arguing, or pissing for 5 minutes at a time. like, seriously, it takes a guy that long to pee?
eddie huffs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and scans the hallway. he has a thought — despite high school girls' proclivities to linger in and outside of bathrooms together doing god knows what, the girls' bathroom by the female locker rooms has usually emptied by this time ; no normal teenage girl wanted to spend any prolonged amount of time sweaty and gross by the gymnasium. no, they definitely wanted to get the hell out of there so they could go back to gossiping or snogging their boyfriends in the hall.
quickly, practically skipping over that way before his bladder has a chance to explode, eddie hovers by the doorway, listening.
nothing. not even the squeak of a shoe.
❝ two seconds, ❞ he mutters to himself. ❝ get in, get out, don’t get suspended. ❞
he steps forward —
— and realizes the angle of the bathroom entrance gives him a clear view straight into the girls’ locker room.
who the hell designed this shit?
he freezes.
because someone is there.
he really doesn't mean to look. truly. he stops because he doesn't want to get caught trying to get into the girls' room, not because he's a creep.
but you . . . god, he'll blame you for this until the day he dies.
you're just pulling your pink t-shirt on, your plain white PE shirt discarded on the bench beside you. your arms are raised, hair falling over your shoulders in soft waves. and below the hem of that shirt . . . well, any self-respecting man wouldn't have been able to look away from you. and eddie munson certainly would not have described himself as ❛ self-respecting. ❜ his dark gaze hits soft, lacy pink panties — dainty white trim, pink satin bows, something so delicate and pretty they don’t even look real in the fluorescent lighting of the dingy locker room.
eddie’s brain short-circuits and he finds himself unable to move.
his lips actually part.
his heart jumps so hard against his ribcage that it startles him.
his cock strains immediately against the front of his jeans.
god hates him personally, he's sure of that.
and every fantasy he’s shoved down all year — the ones about you, about the popular girl with the smile much too pretty for him — flashes like lightning behind his eyes.
he doesn’t mean to make the sound he makes.
but something slips out anyway — a tiny, breathless little exhale, almost a whimper, definitely a sigh — the kind that only happens when your nervous system completely abandons all dignity.
and you hear it.
you turn.
slowly.
eyes wide.
expression shifting from bored to startled to something sharp and then, offended.
eddie’s stomach drops straight through the floor.
you caught him.
you caught him staring.
at you. half-naked.
and it looks like his worst nightmare. it looks exactly like he’s been standing there purposely to watch you getting dressed.
his face blanches. you've never seen anyone so white before.
❝ shit. hey. ❞ he stumbles back a step, hands up, panic rising. ❝ i — i wasn’t — i mean, i didn’t— ❞
he may have been able to mutter some excuse and just back up and leave, but.
his hard on is what kills him.
because your gaze is sinking lower and lower, your eyes widening.
the fact that you can tell how turned on he is only serves to ratchet his arousal even higher. the penis is a traitorous thing, if it's anything at all.
you quickly snatch up your PE shirt from the bench and use it to hide your lower half. not that there's any point — he's already seen everything there is to see. ❝ pervert! ❞ you accuse. your voice cracks on the last syllable, like you're not sure whether to throw something or hide your face in your hands.
only then does it occur to eddie to look away.
he turns his face away, covering his eyes with the palm of his hand for good measure. but the sight of you is well and truly seared onto his eyelids. ❝ no! i swear, i — i'm not. i was just coming to see if the bathroom was free. everyone's hogging the fucking stalls in the boys' room. i swear to god! ❞
there's a very pregnant pause, like third trimester pregnant, in which eddie separates two of his fingers to peek through at you.
standing there, breathing heavily, still with your PE shirt dangling in front of you. ❝ . . . seriously? you didn't come in here just to . . . try to see girls naked or something? ❞
❝ no! oh my god, no. i seriously . . . i have to pee so bad. ❞
❝ then go! ❞ you shout suddenly, and eddie flinches.
hurrying into the bathroom with a ❝ okayjesusi'msorryfuck! ❞
locking himself in one of the stalls, he pauses, leaning against it. his heart is racing, breath coming fast to match. god, you . . .
your legs, fuck, he can't help it. and those panties, jesus . . .
so pink and cute. eddie's never seen anyone wear such cute underwear, not even the few girls he's been with over the years. well, the girls he's had sex with probably wouldn't ever have been caught dead in a pink top let alone pink underwear.
but you. you had such wide eyes, pretty little lips, long, satisfying legs. not to mention that little sliver of ass that showed just below the lacy trim of those panties . . . eddie licks his lips, head rolling against the stall door.
his cock throbs and he palms himself through his jeans. how the hell is he ever supposed to pee like this?
well, he has to find some way to go ; if he walks out of here still with an enormous erection, you'd probably take the matter to the principle or some shit. and you'd be well within your right to.
god . . .
eddie does his best to piss and urge his hard on down in record time. he thinks of the most unsexy things he can bring to mind — santa clause, sad movies, the nightly news — and then finally feels well enough to leave.
it's only taken him a couple minutes, but he's hoping you've been able to get dressed and head out in that time.
but when he steps out of the bathroom you're still there. fully dressed now, but sitting on the nearby bench with your hands clasped together and your head hung low.
he would feel bad just leaving without saying anything, so he starts, ❝ hey. i really didn't mean to — ❞
❝ you have to promise, ❞ you tell him suddenly. the look on your face is fierce, and eddie has no doubt that you'd absolutely ruin him and his reputation ( what little is left ) and get him kicked out if he doesn't do as you say. you stand swiftly. ❝ promise me that you weren't looking on purpose. swear. like, swear on your mother's grave you weren't. ❞
his hand is over his heart before you can blink. ❝ i promise. and i swear. on my mother's life and her grave. i wasn't looking at you. i mean. that i didn't mean to. i seriously just came to use the bathroom. ❞ bad idea, now that he thinks back on it.
should have just held it.
you chew the inside of your cheek, apparently mulling over his words. ultimately finding him sincere enough, you nod. ❝ okay. you can go. ❞
there's a brief moment where the two of you look at each other, your eyes flicker down to eddie's jeans and then back up again, curious.
but eddie rushes out of there just as the homeroom bell rings.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
the halls between second and third period are always packed — lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking, the usual high school cacophony. eddie’s doing what eddie does best after class : leaning against his locker with the hellfire guys clustered around him, ranting loudly about some especially cursed arc he's planning for the campaign on friday.
he’s mid-sentence, halfway through defending himself against wild accusations that he's a sadistic dungeon master, when he feels it.
that prickle down his neck.
that someone’s watching you feeling.
he looks up.
and there you are, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
and there he is, replaying the scene again in his mind for the 17th time in the last two hours ; pink lace hugging such a plump ass, gorgeous hips running down from under your shirt and into those adorable panties.
it's a miracle he doesn't pop a boner right there in front of all his friends.
and a good thing he doesn't, too, because he realizes you are walking straight toward him. you look like a girl who's on a mission, a girl who has the upper hand.
eddie panics immediately, because, he remembers, you do.
his voice cracks halfway through explaining, ❝ guys, your party hasn't really been tested heavily yet — ❞ he can't take his eyes off of you.
he's making no effort to disguise the fact that he's looking at someone across the hallway.
gareth mutters, ❝ what is . . . is she coming over here? to us? ❞
eddie doesn’t even have time to tell them to shut the hell up.
you stop right in front of him.
up close, god, you look even better than he remembers. and he absolutely does NOT look at your legs this time. or your hips. or anything he is scared of accidentally remembering too vividly. no, nothing else he's spent hours in bed at night fantasizing about. even though much of it was on display earlier, right there, just for him, if only you knew him. knew he wasn't a bad guy, didn't worship the devil or any of that bullshit people were saying about him and other people like him, kids who had ❛ weird ❜ interests.
he braces for you to publicly humiliate him. he deserves it, he supposes, for what happened earlier.
you say, very calmly, betraying nothing of what happened earlier, ❝ munson. i've decided you owe me. ❞
the hellfire boys collectively inhale like they’ve just witnessed a murder.
eddie can't decide what's worse — the fact that his friends are looking between the two of you, bewildered, and he's going to have to find some way to explain to them what happened earlier. or would it have been worse if you'd just screamed at him, gotten it all out in the open so the whole school would know what a disgusting pervert eddie munson was, along with being a freak and a devil worshipper?
eddie’s ears go nuclear red. ❝ i — i told you i didn’t mean — i didn’t, uh . . . invade anything or — ❞
you narrow your eyes. ❝ i know. you promised. i appreciate that . . . do you want to make it up to me or not? ❞
eddie nods so fast the ends of his long hair almost hit mike in the face.
❝ good. ❞ you step closer — close enough that he can smell you, something soft and sweet and some perfume that's definitely expensive. the hellfire club — in tandem — takes a step back and away from the two of you, but eddie somehow stands his ground in the face of you. ❝ take me for ice cream. at the mall. friday after school. ❞
there’s a half-second of stunned silence — the kind that doesn’t usually exist around eddie, because he typically fills every spare inch of air with noise. but right now? he’s speechless.
and of course that’s exactly when the club finds their voices again.
mike sputters first, ❝ wait — friday? but — but friday is hellfire. ❞
dustin’s eyes go wide under his cap. ❝ yeah, eddie. you literally said missing one session throws off the narrative structure of the whole campaign — your words, not mine — ❞
gareth throws his hands up. ❝ dude, you made us sign attendance sheets. attendance sheets. for dungeons & dragons. ❞
eddie whips around like a panicked, cornered animal. ❝ guys, guys — shut up — shut up — ❞ he hisses, waving at them without taking his eyes off you. ❝ i’m — busy. friday. okay? very important business. top secret. national security. ❞
mike looks like he’s about to faint. dustin looks personally betrayed.
you arch a brow, arms still crossed, entirely unbothered by the melodrama imploding behind him. ❝ is that a no, munson? you're really too busy fighting demons to buy me a scoop? ❞
and god, the way you say it — mocking him, but warm underneath, like you already know he’s going to fold — it just about finishes him off.
❝ saturday? ❞ he tries to offer quietly.
❝ i'm busy saturday. ❞
eddie straightens up, tries to pretend he has even one ounce of swagger left. ❝ uh — yeah. yes. absolutely. ice cream. friday. consider it . . . owed. ❞
dustin makes a noise like he’s swallowed a kazoo. ❝ you’re canceling hellfire for a girl? you've never cancelled hellfire, not even once. we still came to club even when you had bronchitis! i mean, what even . . . ❞
eddie doesn’t even look back this time. he just sticks an arm out and shoves dustin’s face gently away like he’s silencing a toddler. ❝ priorities, henderson. ❞
you almost smile — not fully, but enough that eddie feels it like a punch straight to the gut. he thinks he might actually die. it's almost better than seeing your ass in those delicious panties.
almost.
❝ good,❞ you say again, nodding softly. stamping an official seal on the arrangement. ❝ friday. after school. we can leave from here. don’t be late. ❞
and then you turn, disappearing back into the crowded hall without so much as a glance over your shoulder.
eddie stands there frozen, locker at his back, heart somewhere near his shoes, friends staring at him like he’s just announced he’s defecting to soviet russia.
mike is the first to break the silence, whispering, horrified, ❝ dude . . . what the hell? ❞
but eddie? eddie just stands there, feeling like a lump.
because he now has a date with one of the most popular girls in school and has to figure out how to explain to the boys exactly how that happened.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
the food court at starcourt always smells like an oil spill baking in the desert heat — fryer oil and fake cheese and that intense, cloyingly sweet smell from the pretzel place. you must, on some level, be immune to it by now, because you're sitting there like you own the place, leaning back, relaxed, a melting cup of roasted strawberry ice cream in front of you. you must come here every weekend with your friends.
eddie, however, is hyper-aware of everything else.
the way every table feels too close.
the way half the kids from hawkins high are filtering through, doing double takes.
the way two girls at the scoops ahoy counter that eddie recognizes as hawkins cheerleaders whisper behind their straws and stare.
one freshman boy literally almost falls into a trashcan because he’s so busy gawping, and apparently mesmerized, at the sight of you sitting pretty with eddie "the freak" munson across from you.
you don't seem to notice.
or maybe you do — maybe you're just pretending this is normal, like you come here all the time with the losers of the school.
eddie stirs his own ice cream, two scoops of mint chocolate chip, tapping the plastic spoon against the cup. ❝ so — technically — i don’t actually play, ❞ he says. he's clearly passionate about this game, this D&D — he's talking about it like it's something sacred and ancient. ❝ i’m the DM ; the dungeon master. i run the story. the monsters. the world. the . . . uh, chaos. ❞
you blink. ❝ so you don’t actually . . . fight anything? like, as a character? ❞
he snorts. ❝ no. hellfire is my kingdom. i’m basically a god. but, like, a very stressed out, underpaid god. ❞
you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding — a tiny, relieved little exhale. you look down into your soft serve like it just told you a secret.
eddie tilts his head. ❝ what? ❞
you hesitate, fiddling with your spoon before murmuring, ❝ i . . . thought D&D had something to do with, like . . . satanism. ❞
eddie chokes on absolutely nothing. seriously, he's not even swallowing any ice cream when he does.
and he really chokes.
full body cough.
a kid at the next table over jumps.
❝ jesus christ, sweetheart — ❞ he wheezes once he recovers, leaning in toward you, ❝ satanism? seriously? i mean, i like metal music, but we don’t, like, sacrifice goats in the woods on friday nights. i’ve barely got the energy to stay awake during homeroom. ❞
you laugh — a cute little tinkle that makes eddie's head spin — and shake your head. ❝ i know. i mean, now i know. it’s just . . . people say things, i don't know if you've heard. and the news . . . and one girl told me that your club played with actual spellbooks, so i kind of assumed . . . i don’t know. that you guys were doing something dangerous. ❞
eddie makes a face like you've personally offended him, and maybe you have. ❝ yeah, the most dangerous thing those kids do is eat an entire pizza while we're taking a break. dustin once drank a two liter of mountain dew in one go and almost died. that’s the level of danger we’re dealing with. ❞
your shoulders relax, and you look at him with those clear, bright eyes that eddie could just fall into.
❝ i thought you’d be mean, too, ❞ you admit quietly. ❝ or scary. you know. the whole ❛ freak ❜ thing . . . the rumors. i figured you’d be . . . intense. or angry. i don’t know. i mean, you are intense. clearly. ❞ you laugh gently to show him you're not being rude, just making an observation. ❝ but you’re not mean. you’re actually . . . nice. surprisingly nice. ❞
eddie’s face goes pink — not the dramatic blush from earlier in the week, but something subtler. warmer. his ringed fingers twitch like he doesn’t know what to do with them.
❝ well, uh . . . thanks? i try not to be a jackass unless provoked. or unless someone insults my van. or my band. or my campaign. ❞
you grin into your spoon. ❝ so . . . often? ❞
❝ okay, wow. rude. ❞ he points at you with his spoon. ❝ i buy you one — extremely overpriced — cup of ice cream and suddenly i’m the punchline. ❞
you frown. ❝ i'm not a bully. ❞
❝ coulda fooled me, the kids you hang out with. ❞
your frown deepens, and you both look at each other for a long minute.
and that’s when you notice it — the stares. the looks. the not-at-all subtle curiosity of your peers.
a group of basketball players walks by, whispering. one of them lifts his brows at you like he’s silently asking if you're doing this as some kind of dare.
two sophomores pass by and giggle.
a girl from your math class keeps glancing between the two of you like she’s witnessing an honest to god miracle.
eddie shifts a little, shoulders tensing, but he doesn’t get small the way you expect. he doesn’t shrink. he just sits up straighter, tapping his rings against the table, pretending that the entire food court isn’t buzzing about the freak sitting with a girl way, way out of his league.
after a moment he mutters, ❝ you can leave, you know. if this is, uh . . . too weird. i mean, i know you asked me, but. ❞
you look up.
really look.
his eyes are dark and nervous and hopeful in a way that makes your chest do something uncomfortable. goodness, you realize he has the longest eyelashes you've ever seen on a man.
❝ i’m not leaving, ❞ you say, soft but firm. ❝ it’s just ice cream, munson. people can stare if they want. i don’t care. ❞
eddie blinks.
like he wasn’t expecting that.
like he doesn’t quite know what to do with the fact that you’re still here, that you’re not afraid being seen with him might turn you into a total social pariah.
you take another bite of your ice cream, pretending your heart isn’t beating too fast.
then: ❝ besides . . . the rumors were wrong about you anyway. you’re not a freak. ❞
eddie swallows, hard.
he doesn’t say anything for a second — just watches you, stunned, like no one has ever said something like that to him before. maybe they haven't. it's quite possible no one has ever been nice to eddie munson in his life. the hellfire club boys, sure. they've been friendly with him. but maybe what eddie needs is someone sweet, someone to baby him — just a little.
finally, he clears his throat. ❝ well… don’t say it too loud. people might think you actually like me or something. ❞
you look at him over the rim of your cup.
❝ maybe i do. ❞
eddie pulls a face. ❝ what, from one conversation over some ice cream? ❞
❝ do i have to remind you what happened earlier this week? ❞ eddie's entire face goes blood red ; he's remembering as you talk. ❝ i believe you. i know you weren't looking on purpose. i think you handled it better than most of the popular guys at school would have. they probably would’ve kept staring until i threw my backpack at them or something. and . . . ❞
you mull over what to tell him, how much to reveal. ❝ . . . maybe i noticed you before that. saw you in the halls between class, at lunch with your club. maybe i was . . . curious. ❞
eddie scowls, dark brows pulling close together over even darker eyes. ❝ even though you thought i was mean? that you thought i was an evil, satan worshipping freak? ❞ he says it like he thinks you're trying to pull the wool over his eyes, like he's trying to catch you in a lie.
❝ sure did. but . . . was hoping you weren't. was hoping you were secretly sweet, that you were even better than most of the boys i hang around with. they suck. ❞
eddie doesn’t know what to say, so he just very slowly eats another spoonful of his ice cream.
does he believe you? you hope he does. everything you’ve said is nothing but the truth.
❝ anyway, ❞ you sigh, playing idly with your ice cream and thinking of how to change the subject and make things less awkward. ❝ . . . i never knew D&D was just like lord of the rings. maybe i would’ve played sooner. ❞
there’s an aborted little movement from eddie’s side of the table that startles you. ❝ you’ve read the lord of the rings? ❞
❝ i’ve read just about every fantasy series there is to read, ❞ you explain with a shrug. ❝ i just . . . like reading. ❞
the look in eddie’s eyes changes now, becomes darker ; it looks like he has a secret he’s unwilling to tell you. ❝ jeez, princess. if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were the perfect girl. ❞
you try hard to just take what he’s said as a compliment. it’s hard, though, with that little caveat he snuck in there. ❝ oh, and you do? know better? ❞
your hand and eddie’s hand are laying side by side on the sticky tabletop. eddie’s fingers twitch toward yours. when he speaks, his voice is low, probably to avoid being overheard by any of your passing classmates. not because he’s ashamed of what he’s about to say, but because he doesn’t want to embarrass you. or have people start to spread nasty rumors about you the way they do about him.
❝ i know you’re pretty. very pretty. what i don’t know is why you’re sitting here with the school outcast giving people a reason to hate you. especially after i . . . y’know, on tuesday. ❞
in a microscopic movement, your fingers meet his, your knuckles now laying together. you aren’t sure who moves first, but eventually your fingers are brushing, back and forth, against each other’s, in the smallest of movements. even just that little bit of affection is enough to make you melt.
you lean toward him, trying to keep your cool and not just crawl all over him right here at the mall. ❝ eddie. in a year, none of these people will matter. their opinions, what they said, the things we did, it’ll all just be history. so let them talk. who gives a fuck? ❞
eddie blinks at you like you’ve just said something groundbreaking. your words — the way you just cursed casually, the confidence, your edge of defiance — they hit him straight in the gut. because that's not how you present. he feels it in a place he knows he shouldn’t, in that exact same traitorous spot from tuesday morning. his fingers twitch against yours, restless, and you let your thumb curl around his index finger, comforting. eddie looks at your entwined hands and then away, scanning for anyone still paying attention to the two of you.
❝ remember what i said, ❞ you mutter, pinkie extending to lay against his warm wrist. ❝ fuck ‘em. ❞
❝ jesus, you’re something else, you know that? ❞ his voice is low too, private, just for you.
you smile a mischievous smile, taking a slow lick of your ice cream, making sure his eyes are now locked on yours. ❝ something good? ❞
eddie swallows so hard you can see his throat working through it, because yes. very good. good enough to make his stomach twist and his cock throb in his jeans. ❝ yeah . . . definitely good. ❞
he leans closer, slowly, still careful not to attract any more attention than is necessary, though he can’t quite hide the way his entire body has gone taut as a bowstring. god, you want to make him come undone. ❝ so . . . uh . . . this is going to sound insane, but . . . jesus, please don’t call me a pervert again, but. ❞ his voice dips lower, teasing you, but still uncertain. ❝ those panties. tuesday. they . . . they were kind of . . . distracting. ❞
you pause, spoon frozen halfway to your lips, eyes flickering down to where he’s turned his hand over in yours, fingers full on skimming back and forth over the sensitive palm of your hand now. there’s a faint flush in your cheeks, and maybe — maybe — a smile that hints you’re enjoying the game he’s playing. ❝ distracting, huh? ❞ your tongue darts out, slices through the mound of soft ice cream on your spoon. ❝ oh really, eddie? kind of distracting? ❞
eddie’s teeth sink deep into his lower lip. ❝ yeah . . . kind of — no. you know what? not kind of. very. very distracting. don’t think i’m gonna forget what i saw. ❞
still his fingers sweep over your palm ; there are goosebumps prickling your entire arm.
you shiver in spite of yourself. ❝ eddie? ❞
your eyes are so wide, your tone so desperate . . . he panics. ❝ hm? hey, what’s wrong? did i say something? i still swear — i didn’t mean to look earlier, i promise it wasn’t on purpose. I would never — ❞
❝ eddie. take me somewhere we can be alone together. please. ❞ you’ve turned your hand over, effectively pinning his to the table. you are desperate, desperate for him. desperate for the way his lashes brush his cheeks every time he blinks, the way his lips move, the perfect timbre of his voice.
you’ve never wanted anyone this badly, and you’re sure he can tell.
he doesn’t have to be told twice. with a nod, he grabs your hand and starts to lead you back through the food court, abandoning your ice creams as you slip past curious glances and whispers until the large glass doors of the mall’s main entrance come into view.
but eddie doesn’t lead you there. he takes a hard turn and pulls you down a side hallway that looks like it might be just for maintenance.
you trust him, though, so you let him keep going, pushing through a small side door and into the brisk night air. into a world of abandoned furniture, wooden tables stacked crookedly, couches leaning against the wall, metal shelving scattered like a maze. the powerful docking bay flood lights hit the dust motes floating in the air, catching on your hair, making eddie catch his breath.
❝ wow, ❞ you sigh, looking around at all of the furniture. ❝ what is this? ❞
eddie shrugs, starting to pick his way past a garish settee. ❝ you told me to take you somewhere private. ❞
you can’t hold in a well-meaning giggle. ❝ yeah, i figured you were gonna take me back to your place. ❞
❝ oh. damn. well . . . i can still do that. ❞ he turns back, ready to leave.
❝ wait, wait. i wanna explore back here now. this is cool. i never knew this kind of stuff was back here.❞
❝ oh, yeah. back of the furniture store. i’ve only been here a couple times, but didn’t take me long to find this place. they don’t guard it very well. clearly. furniture graveyard back here. ❞
❝ you can hardly call it a graveyard, most of this shit is brand new. ❞ you stand on a plush red velvet footstool, trying to track eddie’s movements through the maze of furniture.
he seemingly picks out a suitable armchair the size of a small car, motioning you over.
grabbing your hand and helping you maneuver through the wreck of items, he makes sure you’re safe before taking a seat in the armchair.
eddie pats his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like of course this enormous abandoned armchair was meant for this — for you, for him, for whatever this is turning into.
you roll your eyes good-naturedly. ❝ seriously? ❞
eddie’s grin goes crooked, boyish, a little smug in that way he can’t quite hide around you. ❝ yeah. seriously. unless you’d rather sit on . . . ❞ he gestures vaguely at a nearby plastic patio chair missing one leg, the saddest item at the party. ❝ . . . that. ❞
you sigh, but it’s useless — you’re already moving toward him. already letting him guide you by the waist as you settle onto his lap.
his hands are warm. too warm, scorching your skin wherever they touch.
you sink into him, into the solid feel of his chest against you, the curve of the massive armchair cupping you both like a secret. you shift a little until you’re comfortable — which is sort of a lie, because there’s nothing comfortable about the way your heart is slamming around in its cage, nothing comfortable about the way his breath hitches when your thighs brush his.
eddie exhales through his nose like he’s trying very, very hard to be chill.
❝ well, hey there, princess, ❞ he murmurs, voice low enough to vibrate against your side. ❝ makin’ yourself right at home. ❞
❝ you told me to, didn’t you? ❞ you tease, turning halfway toward him. in this position, your legs are thrown over the side of the armchair, your bum seated comfortably atop his lap.
eddie’s eyes flicker briefly to your mouth. ❝ yeah, but i honestly didn’t expect you to be so . . . obedient. ❞
you shove his shoulder lightly. ❝ shut up. ❞
❝ no, i mean — ❞ his fingers flex on your hips, steadying you when you shift. ❝ — not complaining. definitely not. ❞
you can feel him adjusting under you, just slightly. enough that you know. enough that he knows you know.
your skirt drapes over your thighs, soft against his jeans, and when you move again — just a tiny test — eddie makes a noise like someone hit him with a truck.
you pretend you didn’t hear it.
he pretends he didn’t make it.
his hand — the one with all the rings — drops to your bare knee, barely touching. just fingertips. just testing. when you don’t flinch away, those fingertips glide up an inch. warm. slow. deliberate.
❝ you okay? ❞ eddie whispers, and you nod. your eyes feel hot, almost like you could cry. but it’s only that this is such a new sensation for you. you’ve never let anyone touch you like this, never trusted anyone to, not even some of the popular guys you’ve known for years.
why is eddie different?
instead of asking or saying any of that, you purse your lips. ❝ are you okay? ❞
❝ oh, sweetheart, ❞ eddie murmurs, thumb brushing the soft, tender underside of your knee now, ❝ not even close. ❞
you shift again — not on purpose, probably — but it doesn’t matter. his hand tightens on your knee, just enough to hold you still. just enough to tell you he feels everything.
you swallow, heat curling low in your stomach.
❝ eddie… ❞
❝ yeah? ❞ he nudges the side of your jaw with his nose, like he’s testing how close he can get before you push him away.
you don’t push him away.
his fingers slide higher, tracing the warm skin of your inner thigh, disappearing under the hem of your skirt like he’s trying not to rush but absolutely is.
your breath stutters.
eddie feels it.
he leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice a rasp.
❝ you tell me to stop if you want. otherwise . . . ❞ his thumb strokes higher, bolder, ❝ . . . i’m gonna keep going. ❞
your hand covers his on your thigh — not to stop him.
but to guide him.
eddie makes another noise, this one even more alarming, though you don’t know how that’s possible.
you pull back a bit, just enough to look at him, to make sure he’s okay.
eddie looks like he’s drowning, dark eyes melting into yours as you continue to push his hand higher. ❝ gonna let me see those pretty panties again? ❞ he demands to know. ❝ gonna let me touch ‘em? ❞
your hand stops. and so does his. you’re shivering, breathing heavily, feeling like you could shake apart if he left you right now.
❝ not here, ❞ you mumble pitifully, and eddie nods.
❝ okay. ❞
unable to bear it anymore, you close your eyes.
and that’s when he kisses you.
eddie kisses like he’s been wanting you like this for years.
not timid, no longer even a touch hesitant. just hungry — that kind of desperate, relieved hunger reserved only for starving men faced with a meal and drug addicts who just got their fix.
his lips crash into yours, hard and warm, over and over, and your whole body jolts. you realize you’ve been hungry, too. starved for touch and affection and anyone who truly cared about you. he cups your jaw with one hand, thumb sweeping your cheekbone, the other arm locked tight over your legs like he thinks you might leave.
you melt instantly.
you don’t mean to — it’s instinct. the second his mouth opens against yours, your fingers go to his chest, clutching at his shirt, pulling him closer even though there’s nowhere left to go. he’s already pressed against you everywhere — chest firm, thighs solid under yours, the heat of him pushing up through the underside of your skirt.
the kiss deepens fast — too fast — like he’s been imagining it, like you’ve been torturing him just by existing. his breath tastes like the mint chocolate ice cream he’s been enjoying and something bitter underneath, but not unpleasant. something unmistakably eddie.
his nose bumps yours when he tilts his head, clumsy, eager, borderline messy, which only makes this more real. his mouth fits against yours in that perfect, greedy way that makes your thighs tense and your stomach leap into your throat.
eddie groans — a low, rough, startled sound — the second your lips part from his. it vibrates through his chest and into yours, and you swear you could come undone from that alone.
and then he’s pulling you up, hands strong on your waist. you gasp as he lifts you bodily and sets you down with your thighs now on either side of his. you can feel him now. really feel him. underneath your skirt, your underwear — similar to the pair you wore on tuesday, just with less bows and more lace — come into contact with the rough material of his jeans, tented by a very obvious erection. you really hope you’re not making an absolute mess down there.
his fingers slip into your hair, tugging gently, guiding your mouth open under his once more. his rings are cool against your neck when he cups the back of your head, holding you exactly where he wants you.
and you kiss him back with the same needy, aching urgency — because you want him, too. because you’ve wanted this longer than you’ll admit. because nothing has ever felt like this.
eddie breaks away just an inch, your foreheads pressed together, breathing hard.
❝ i have to admit something, ❞ he breathes.
you make a tiny sound, questioning. please don’t admit you’re actually a pervert who really does love spying on girls in the locker room, you think desperately.
❝ you said — ❞ he has to stop, catch his breath, swallow thickly. you soothe him with a hand at his jaw, thumb stroking over his heated skin. ❝ you said you noticed me before, in the halls at school? i noticed you, too. fucking everywhere, baby. in the halls, in class, at assembly, during PE. i’ve thought about you . . . fuck, i’ve thought about you so much. never thought i . . . i mean, what chance did i have with you? the freak of hawkins high? ❞
❝ don’t say that, ❞ you chide, grabbing for one of his hands, which you bring to your lips so you can kiss the inside of his wrist. that area smells so strongly of him you almost pass out. ❝ if we had just . . . i dunno, been paired for a project or . . . sat at the same lunch table, it sounds like this would have happened sooner. ❞
eddie’s dark gaze is cemented to yours, and his voice drops as he continues, like he’s afraid his words might shatter the moment if he speaks them too loudly.
❝ when i saw you standing there in those lace and bows, babe, you looked like — ❞ he exhales, shaking his head a little, disbelief curling at the edges of every syllable. ❝ like a fuckin’ elven princess straight out of one of my campaigns. swear to god, you looked all soft and pretty and . . . fuck. those panties. ❞
his fingers dig suddenly into the meat of your thigh, just under the edge of your skirt.
❝ pink lace. little bows. like you stepped right out of my brain and into that locker room. ❞ he kisses you again, softly, and against your lips he asks, ❝ . . . do they all look like that? or were you wearing those for like . . . a special occasion? ❞
you huff a laugh, smiling into the kiss. ❝ most of them. ❞
he pulls back and his brows lift, hope flaring.
❝ i mean, i have some normal pairs. but most of them are cute like that, yeah. ❞
eddie makes a sound that’s halfway between a choke and a moan and you grab anxiously for his fingers again, slipping them up and under your skirt. ❝ eddie, you can. you can touch. i just . . . i wanna wait until we’re back at your place to have sex. ❞
❝ we don’t have to, ❞ eddie tells you, and at your disappointed look he squeezes your thigh again, reassuring. ❝ i just mean, we can do whatever you want. i’m happy using my fingers or . . . my tongue. don’t feel like you owe me anything. ❞
❝ i want to, ❞ you let him know, urging his hand as high as it’s been now.
eddie watches you carefully as his fingers crawl up the tender skin of your thigh, and just as his thumb presses into the rough lacy edge of the cute lavender pair you’re wearing tonight —
❝ jesus christ, ❞ he mutters. ❝ you’re so fucking pretty, i don’t even deserve to look at you, let alone touch you. ❞
he’s suddenly tense against you, shoulders locking like he’s remembered who he is, where he stands in the pecking order of hawkins high. his hand falters under your skirt, like he’s about to pull it away entirely.
wanting anything in this moment but to lose his warm skin against yours, your palm slides to his cheek, warm and steady, fingers threading into his hair — which is surprisingly soft — to keep him right where he is.
❝ hey, ❞ you murmur. ❝ i told you not to think like that. or talk like that. ❞
his eyes flicker to yours, dark and uncertain.
❝ i’m not . . . too much for you? ❞ he asks quietly. ❝ or — i don’t know — wrong? ❞
you lean in and kiss him again, slow this time. not frantic. not rushed. just enough to make your meaning unmistakably clear.
when you pull back, you keep your nose brushing his.
❝ eddie munson, ❞ you whisper, ❝ i wouldn’t be letting you kiss me in the back of this mall if you weren’t exactly right for me. ❞
something in his face breaks open at that.
he swallows hard, then blurts, ❝ were you really gonna go to the principal? ❞
you blink. ❝ what? ❞
❝ after tuesday, ❞ he admits, embarrassed. ❝ i kept thinking you were gonna ruin my life, expel me or something. ❞ he may hate school, but there’s a reason he hasn’t dropped out yet.
you smile — remembering how you had indeed threatened to take the matter to the principle if eddie didn’t take you out. ❝ no. ❞
his eyes widen. ❝ no? ❞
❝ no, ❞ you repeat. ❝ i was just hoping you’d ask me out. ❞
eddie stares at you like you’ve just told him gravity isn’t real.
❝ you’re kidding. ❞
❝ i’m not. ❞ you shrug lightly, thumb again tracing the line of his jaw, that place you can’t stay away from. ❝ i figured if i scared you a little, you might actually do something. ❞
he lets out a breathy laugh, stunned. ❝ you are . . . terrifying. ❞
❝ worked, didn’t it? ❞
his answer is another kiss — deeper, slower. that thumb finally pushes its way beneath the band of your underwear, stroking the sensitive skin of your waist now. which leaves his other fingers reaching around, clenching at your backside.
you shiver, pressing in close to him. ❝ eddie? take me home now? ❞
eddie nods and stands immediately with you still in his arms.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
the drive to eddie’s place is . . . tense, to say the least.
he keeps drumming his fingers nervously on the steering wheel and glancing over at you until you sigh and reach over for his hand, place it on your thigh for him.
only then does he seem to calm, hand ghosting back and forth over your leg, although he does still look over at you periodically, like he’s still expecting you to scream for him to stop touching you.
when he makes the final turn, he takes a sharp breath and says, ❝ guess i should’ve mentioned i live . . . here. ❞
the van rolls to a stop in front of a trailer — porch light humming, dirty metal stairs leading up to an even dirtier front door.
❝ mhm, and? ❞ you already knew eddie lived here with his uncle, it wasn’t a secret. it was one of the many things jason carver and his goons liked to make fun of eddie for.
❝ well, it’s not exactly a house. ❞
❝ duh. ❞ you tug on his hand and whine, ❝ eddie. come on. ❞
luckily, he obeys without much more obstinacy, hopping from the van and coming around to your side to open the door for you.
❝ my lady. ❞ he speaks in a very good british accent, bowing low, clearly putting his D&D skills to good use.
with a giggle, you take his hand and let him lead you to the door.
it’s gotten fairly cold out, so you stand shuffling from foot to foot as eddie unlocks the door.
even after you’ve gotten inside, you waffle by the entryway, shivering as eddie flits around turning on lights. ❝ if you’re hungry, i think there’s some pizza in the fridge. i also always have pretzels lying around here somewhere. ❞
he’s coming back for you down the hallway where he’s turned on a side light, mumbling something about, ❝ sorry it’s kind of a mess in here. my uncle works nights and — ❞
you greet him with a kiss, giving meaning to the phrase ❛ throwing yourself at him. ❜ his mouth is wet and hungry under yours, steadying the two of you as he stumbles back with his arms around you.
yours are flung around his shoulders, on tiptoe in order to be able to continue kissing him properly. ❝ eds. touch me. ❞
eddie makes a low sound into your mouth — one you can only describe as needy — and his hands find you instinctively, both under your skirt, suddenly gripping your ass.
❝ goddamn, is that . . . ❞ his breath catches in his throat and you step forward to latch your lips to his adam’s apple. ❝ is that . . . silk? ❞
❝ satin, ❞ you correct him with a smile, worrying your teeth over his skin. he’s going to have one hell of a hickey on his throat monday at school.
❝ god, ❞ he murmurs. ❝ you’re gonna kill me. ❞
you smile against his neck. ❝ bedroom, then? ❞
that does it.
he laughs and takes your hand, tugging you down the narrow hallway. he stops halfway down to bang on the thermostat. ❝ sorry it’s kinda cold. heating system’s ancient. it should warm up in here soon. ❞
you merely run your free hand down his arm, trying to convey the sentiment that you don’t care, that there are more important things to be taken care of.
eddie’s room is lit but dim, familiar, lived-in ; band posters, scattered clothes, the faint hum of something electric in the background.
the door barely clicks shut before he’s kissing you again.
slow and deep, eddie memorizing every single one of your gasps and moans.
his hands are careful but everywhere — skimming up under your shirt, on your waist, under your skirt again — grounding himself in the reality of you standing here with him.
at some point, foreheads pressed together, he exhales shakily.
❝ can i ask you something? ❞
you nod, nose brushing his again.
❝ are you . . . ❞ he takes a lock of your hair and places it gingerly over your shoulder, stroking your tresses like you’re a doll to be pampered. ❝ is this your first time? ❞
you nod.
eddie’s hand stills in your hair. ❝ really? figured you’d have guys throwing themselves at you. ❞ his hand meets your waist again, squeezing as if to say ❛ how are you a virgin, looking like this? ❜
❝ guys try, ❞ you admit. ❝ but i really need to trust someone to want to do that with them. ❞
he studies you for a long moment, thumb tracing slow circles at your hip.
❝ and you trust me? ❞
another nod ; you’ve never been more sure of anything.
something in his chest visibly gives.
❝ jesus, ❞ he whispers. ❝ you have no idea what that does to me. ❞
he kisses you again — reverent now — starting to shuffle you back toward his bed.
❝ we’ll go slow, ❞ he murmurs against your lips. ❝ okay? ❞
❝ okay. i trust you, ❞ you tell him again.
❝ thank you. ❞
the both of you toe your shoes off and when he pulls you down with him onto the bed, it’s with care, letting you scoot up the bed until your head is on his pillows. everything smells so much like him now you never want to leave.
he flattens the messy covers around you and when he opens his mouth, you can tell he’s about to apologize again. for what, this time? for how disorganized his room is? for how cold it still is? just for being eddie munson?
you cut him off before he can. ❝ shh. don’t apologize. ❞
you pull him down over you by his shoulders, and eddie covers your body with his.
and though you’ve never done this before, your legs instinctually know where they should go — right around eddie’s tight waist, squeezing, never wanting to let him go.
eddie braces himself with a hand beside your head, while the other cups the outside of your thigh, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin.
❝ what you’ve been waiting for, ❞ you sigh, reaching for the zipper at your side.
eddie doesn’t answer, seemingly transfixed by your skirt or whatever’s beneath it.
tugging that zipper down, you let your skirt fall open around you and eddie takes a deep, sudden breath.
you’re encased in a pair of soft lavender satin panties tonight, the whole pair edged with lace with one big white bow at the front.
eddie has stopped moving.
his eyes drag slowly over you, dark and hungry and stunned, like he’s trying to convince himself you aren’t some cruel hallucination. his hand tightens on your thigh. ❝ baby . . . if this is some kinda prank, something your friends put you up to, you need to tell me now. ❞
❝ it’s not. ❞
❝ fuck, ❞ he breathes, barely louder than the hum of the heat finally kicking on. ❝ you’re . . . ❞
he’s seemingly unable to finish his sentence.
his fingers come to brush the lace edge just at the crux of your right thigh, tentative at first — still reverent, like he’s afraid he might ruin these delicate things just by touching. the satin, when he runs his fingers a little higher, is cool beneath his fingertips, smooth, impossibly soft.
❝ jesus christ, ❞ he mutters to himself.
his thumb now traces the line of lace, slow and deliberate, following the curve of your hip up to your waist. you hear him swallow above you.
❝ do you have any idea what you look like right now? ❞
you want to make a joke, you really do, but eddie looking at you like this, touching you like this, like you’re some precious thing, it takes away your ability to do much more than say his name.
❝ eddie? ❞
❝ i know. ❞ his big hand spreads out on your hip. ❝ i know, baby. ❞
you don’t know when you started shaking, but you realize eddie’s trying to soothe your tremors by scooping an arm beneath you, gathering you up against him as he presses a kiss to your neck. ❝ going too fast? ❞
❝ n-no. i mean, i didn’t think so. maybe . . . you show me something now. i can’t be the only one getting naked here. ❞ you knee him in the ribs as gently as you can.
with a grin, eddie pulls back.
when he does, you can see the very obvious tent in his jeans. just like in the locker room. if you were curious then, you’re very curious now.
eddie's grin widens at your words, his eyes darkening with pure lust as he looks down on you. ❝ oh sweetheart, aren’t you playing with fire now . . . ? ❞ he growls playfully, and leans in to nip at your lower lip.
his hands roam your curves possessively, squeezing and caressing every inch of exposed skin. he can feel the heat radiating off of your body and it makes his cock throb with need. ❝ you wanna see what you do to me, baby? how hard you make me? ❞
with a swift movement, eddie stands up and starts unbuckling his belt. his jeans fall to the floor with a soft sound as he kicks them aside. he's left standing there in his shirt and a pair of black briefs, which are straining against his massive erection.
he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear teasingly. ❝ like what you see so far, princess? nothin’ fancy like yours, but i think this works for me . . . ❞
and it definitely does work for him — the midnight black of those briefs against the pale porcelain of his thighs makes you want to attack him.
instead, you pull him down atop you once more, legs around his waist, one hand in his hair and the other snaking between the two of you to palm him through the thin cotton of his underwear. ❝ eds. you're so hard . . . is that all for me? ❞
your hand cupping his aching cock earns you a deep-seated groan, the worn, flimsy fabric of his boxers doing little to hide how hard he is for you. he grinds against your hand, wanting more. ❝ fuck yes, baby girl . . . all for you. every thick inch of me is yours. ❞
he captures your lips in another searing kiss, tongue diving into your mouth to taste and claim every inch. his hips rock against yours steadily now, the heat of your bodies mingling as you rut together.
❝ you feel that? feel how much I want you? how much i’ve been wanting you? ❞ he pants between kisses. ❝ i'm gonna fuck you so good tonight, sweetheart. gonna take my time and make that little pussy mine. ❞
one large hand slides down to grip your ass possessively while the other reaches up to tug at the hem of your shirt. ❝ got somethin’ pretty on up here, too? i wanna see, wanna suck on your nipples until you're begging for my cock . . . ❞
eddie's words make you shy ; you’ve never heard someone talk that dirty before. a soft pink blush starts at your cheeks and drips all the way down to the top of your chest.
you also realize that, if what eddie says is true, he's lain in this very bed before touching himself to the thought of you. ❝ oh god, ❞ you whisper, leaning up to take the bottom of your shirt in hand and yank it off.
laying it aside, you hear eddie exhale sharply. you’re wearing a matching set, so your bra is a nice soft purple too, with satin cups and lacy trim, another big white bow right in the middle of your chest.
eddie's eyes darken with lust, the sight of you in such a dainty set making his cock throb painfully. he licks his lips hungrily. ❝ fuck, you look so good like this . . . like a goddamn princess, i swear. ❞
he leans down to nuzzle at the swell of your breasts, pressing open mouthed kisses along the tops of them before reaching behind to unclasp your bra. his hair tickles you as the lacy garment falls away and eddie groans at the sight of your bare tits.
❝ so fucking perfect . . . ❞ he murmurs reverently before taking one pert nipple into his mouth. he suckles and laps greedily at it while he rolls the other between his fingers.
his hips continue to grind at your center, both of your underwear now soaked with your arousal and some of eddie’s precum. eddie can feel how wet you are even through the fabric. ❝ you're dripping for me already, aren't you, baby? such a needy little thing . . . ❞
you’re squirming, loving all the attention eddie's giving you, all the sweet things he's saying to you. ❝ eddie . . . ❞ you love saying his name, too, loves the way it feels in your mouth, between your teeth.
once eddie sucks that nipple between his lips, you let out an embarrassing moan, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the hard, lean planes of his back. ❝ eddie, eddie . . . want you. want you so bad! ❞
at your desperate plea, eddie groans around your nipple, the sound juddering against your sensitive flesh. he releases it with a wet pop before kissing his way to your other breast to give it the same treatment.
❝ fuck, i want you too, baby . . . want to bury my cock in your tight little pussy and make you scream my name, ❞ he growls, nibbling playfully at your breast.
he sits up suddenly, drawing your legs wider around him as he reaches down to hook his fingers into the waistband of those soft lavender panties. ❝ as much as i love these, ‘m gonna take ‘em off now . . . wanna see all of you. ❞
slowly, like he’s savoring every inch of you being revealed to him, he pulls those panties painstakingly down your legs before tossing them aside. he takes a moment to drink in the sight of you laid out naked beneath him, a feast for his eyes.
you’re embarrassed again, now only because he can see what he’s done to you. your little pussy is a mess, smeared with your own juices.
❝ so fucking gorgeous . . . can't wait to taste every inch of you, ❞ he murmurs, sliding suddenly down between your thighs. ❝ gonna eat this pretty pussy until you're shaking . . . is that okay? ❞
eddie's cheek is pressed to your thigh and your hand is in his hair, petting. more to soothe yourself than him. you nod, less embarrassed now and more nervous. what if eddie doesn't like how you taste? what if he thinks you’re too wet? what if —
eddie’s nuzzling into your thigh, hands sneaking around to cradle your hips. he can feel your nervousness and it makes him want to take extra care of you. ❝ shh, it's okay, baby . . . just relax for me. i’m gonna take such good care of you, i promise. ❞
he places a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh before trailing his lips lower. his breath ghosts over your slick folds and you shiver. ❝ you smell so good, sweetheart . . . can't wait any longer to taste you. ❞
eddie leans in and licks a slow stripe up your slit, groaning at the taste of your arousal. ❝ fuuuck, you taste amazing . . . so sweet. fuckin’ delicious. ❞
he seals his mouth over your pussy and starts lapping at you eagerly, tongue delving between your folds to collect every drop of your essence. eddie focuses on teasing around your clit with the tip of his tongue while sucking gently.
you’re really squirming now, breathing heavily, writhing on eddie’s bed and tightening your thighs around his head. ❝ e-eddie . . . oh god. ❞
❝ that's it, baby, ❞ he mumbles against your slick cunt, ❝ just let go . . . wanna make this pretty pussy cum all over my face. ❞
one particularly insistent swipe of his tongue over your clit makes you thrash, but eddie is holding you down by your hips. ❝ unh . . . eddie. fuck, i'm gonna — ❞
your thighs start to tremble around his head and he doubles his efforts, alternating between flicking his tongue rapidly over your clit and sucking at your entrance.
❝ that's it, baby, cum for me. wanna feel this pussy fuckin’ pulse against my mouth. ❞ he’s growling against you, dark gaze trained up on your heaving chest. ❝ gonna lap up every drop of your cum. ❞
eddie suddenly has two of his thick fingers plunging deep into your tight, hot channel. he pumps them in and out steadily, curling them just so.
as close as you are, you can’t hold back.
those fingers, his tongue, his voice . . . fuck, his voice might be your favorite thing about him. and he certainly knows how to use it in the bedroom.
you scream his name one last time, fingers tight in his hair as you give one last violent spasm atop his comforter and then start to flood his mouth.
he moans as you come undone, your pussy clenching around his fingers, release dripping down his chin. he laps eagerly at you, drinking down every drop just like he said he would.
❝ fuck yes, just like that, princess. cum all over my face. ❞ he keeps his tongue and fingers running in tandem to work you through your high until you come down.
then, gently, he eases those fingers out of you before kissing his way up your body.
eddie takes a moment to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. ❝ you did so good, sweetheart. came so hard for me. ❞
your trembling arms embrace him, and you turn your face to meet him for a tender kiss, still breathing hard as eddie holds you close.
but it isn’t long before he’s reaching down, palming at himself through his briefs. ❝ fuck, that made me even harder. i wanna bury my cock in that tight little pussy and fuck you until the only thing you know how to say is my name. ❞
with the way he's started to suck so gently on your tongue, it's a miracle you can even speak when the two of you part again.
❝ y-you said you'll be gentle, yeah? ❞
❝ yes. ❞ he nods, leaning back to take you in, hands worshipping you on their way back down to your hips. ❝ told you, i’ll take care of you. ❞
almost before you know what’s happening, eddie quickly strips out of the remainder of his clothes, revealing his lean, tattooed body and the thick erection jutting from between his thighs.
your heart starts to race and eddie goes for a condom from the bedside table while you try not to think about why he needs those there, what other girls from town he may have been with.
then you reach to still his hand, shaking your head. ❝ no. please? ❞
eddie’s eyes flicker with surprise. ❝ . . . you sure? i mean, i’m clean, to my knowledge. but i have . . . been with some other girls. ❞
you huff, cheeks going red with embarrassment. ❝ i figured as much. i just . . . don't wanna use one, ❞ you finish lamely.
you know it's stupid, know it's risky. but god, if you don't get to feel him sliding bare into you you’re going to lose your mind.
looking as though he knows it’s a bad idea, but wanting to make you happy anyway, eddie sets the unopened condom back on the table and comes to hover over you again. ❝ okay. anything for my princess. ❞
another soft, doting kiss shared between the two of you has you seeing stars.
just before eddie reaches down to line himself up with your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock through your still-slick folds.
his gaze meets yours and you nod and with a subtle push of his hips, the head of eddie munson’s cock pops right into your tight cunt.
❝ fuck . . . i dunno how long i’m gonna last, baby. you feel . . . nngh, god, fuck! you feel so fucking good. ❞ his fingers are bruising on your hips, though you’re sure he doesn’t mean them to be.
you know how he’s feeling, like it’s too much and not enough all at once.
❝ eddie? do i feel . . . do i feel better than those other girls? the — the ones you’ve been with before? ❞ silly, jealousy at this point, when he’s already inside of you. but you can’t help it, can’t help imagining what girls eddie munson has fucked up until now. probably sammy from your fifth period history class. she’s alternative enough. or — god — heather in band who loves to paint her face like those KISS guys. she’s exactly eddie’s type.
elbows now cushioned on either side of your head, eddie pets your hair back from your sweaty forehead. ❝ what are you thinking about? ❞ he questions softly, a smirk on his face like he knows exactly what's going through your head. ❝ there’s no contest — you’re the best fucking thing i’ve ever felt in my life. including the first time i heard metallica. ❞
your eyes go wide. ❝ wow, that's. you mean that? ❞
eddie nods solemnly. ❝ i do. and if you don't believe me, then maybe i should fuck you until you do. ❞
hips inching forward, eddie slips another inch or two more of his aching cock inside of you.
the noise you make is embarrassing, to say the least. it feels way too good to be filled up with him and there are still a few more inches to go.
he grunts, sinking into your tight heat, face buried in the crook of your neck.
❝ you’re so tight, baby. like a vice around my cock. ❞ slowly, he begins to rock his hips, easing more and more of himself inside of you with each thrust. at the same time, his hands roam protectively over your body as he fills you up completely. ❝ i think . . . you were made for me. no one else could ever feel this good. ❞
❝ i honestly . . . i expected it to hurt. fr — from what i've heard from my friends. but. it just feels good, eddie, so good. ❞ you’re surprised, completely blissed out on his cock as he starts to speed up.
eddie chuckles breathlessly against your neck. ❝ i promised i’d be gentle . . . and i always keep my promises. ❞
it doesn’t even hurt when he starts to fuck you harder, slamming deep inside of you with each snap of his hips. his hands slide down to grip your ass, canting your hips up so he can fuck you that much better. ❝ does it still feel good, baby? d’you like feeling my cock stretch this tight little pussy out? ❞
you nod fervently, sure that your fingernails are doing quite a number on eddie's back by now. ❝ you're so big, eds. i feel s — so full . . . ❞
eddie’s movements stutter and he chokes a little. ❝ mm, baby, i’m sorry — i’m so close already. but i want you to cum again first, wanna make you cream on my dick. ❞ in an effort to make that happen, eddie’s calloused fingers drop between your thighs, rubbing at your clit in tight little circles.
and that just makes you go absolutely ballistic, blindsided by your second orgasm of the night as you shake underneath of him, holding him as close as possible.
eddie practically whimpers as your pussy clamps down around him, inner walls fluttering and squeezing at his pistoning cock. and though he must be teetering on the edge as he does so, he thrusts through your orgasm, drawing it out until you’re a shaking, whimpering mess.
❝ god, you’re perfect. so fucking perfect . . . gonna fill this pussy up now, babe . . . mark you as mine. ❞
a few more hard thrusts and eddie buries himself to the hilt inside of you with a guttural moan. his cock pulses as he spills his hot spunk deep into your aching cunt.
you hold him as he cums, breath coming hot and damp against your shoulder, making the prettiest little noises you’ve ever heard a man make.
eddie collapses on top of you, his softening cock still nestled inside your quivering walls.
he nuzzles into your neck with a contented sigh. ❝ feelin’ okay? ❞
when you nod with a giggle, he rolls you onto your sides so he's no longer crushing you under his weight, his arms wrapped protectively around you. he presses a kiss to your shoulder before letting out a satisfied yawn. ❝ i could stay like this forever . . . just you and me. ❞
and wouldn’t that be nice? just you and eddie here in his room, making out and having sex forever.
but, you remember specifically the conversation that was had in the hallway on tuesday. ❝ i don’t think hellfire would take too kindly to that. ❞
❝ i’m gonna make it up to them next friday with an extra long session. but i did have to give a reasonable explanation for why i missed tonight. fair warning. ❞
you tilt your head. ❝ yeah, that you had to take me on a date. ❞
the look on eddie’s face is mischievous, dark eyes glinting. ❝ yeah, sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but that’s not a suitable explanation for my boys. ❞
frowning, you mutter, ❝ what exactly did you tell them? ❞
❝ the truth. ❞ he apologizes by way of another wet kiss to your shoulder, mouthing at the skin there.
you groan, hiding your face in eddie’s hair. ❝ that’s embarrassing . . . ❞
❝ hey, more for me than for you. i’m the one who comes off as a pervert. ❞
❝ and i’m the one who forced you to ask me out after you were a pervert, oh my god. ❞
eddie shushes you, a hand at the back of your head, cool rings ghosting back and forth over the nape of your neck. ❝ they won’t ever say anything to anyone. and i promise they don’t think less of you because of that. my boys are . . . they’re cool. ❞
nerves calming, you listen to the chilly breeze blow past outside, rattling the trailer windows and sending a draft across the bed. eddie wrestles with the tangled blankets, pulling them higher around you, although it is starting to heat up a little now that the heat has clicked on.
❝ stay? ❞ he mutters against your shoulder.
you tuck yourself in closer against him, skin to skin like eddie is your own personal space heater. ❝ i wasn’t planning on leaving. ❞
⋆˚꩜｡ summary: A teasing banter over Iron Maiden and Dio quickly spirals into whiskey-soaked and reckless attraction
⋆˚꩜｡ tags/tw: explicit content (minors do not interect, you're not welcome) no y/n, she/her reader, big age gap, confident reader, smoking, alcohol consumption, praise kink, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk, dom!eddie, sloppy kissing, breeding kink undertone, mild cnc undertones, overstimulation, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex
⋆˚꩜｡ wordcount: 6.6k+
The bell hanging above the glass door rang as soon as he’d pushed it open, and the smell of second hand vinyl, and something that smelled an awful lot like the faint remains of a joint, hit him when he finally stepped inside the independent record shop that had just opened downtown.
Eddie took a slow look around – noticing how the dark wall at the end of the shop was covered with framed posters he was sure were original ones, the two tattered bean bags randomly thrown in the far right corner next to a listening station, the overstocked shelves with imported tapes and limited-pressed records and the rack with vintage merch he was almost sure held one or two of the shirts he’d lost along the years.
But what really caught his attention, was the display island in the dead centre of the shop – custom built from what he could see, and at least a dozen plastic crates sitting on top of it, filled with records, prints, enamel pins and whatever else he was about to waste half his free afternoon digging through.
His heavy work boots thudded onto the polished concrete floor as he stepped further into the shop, his fingers twitching to start digging through it all.
“Just holler if you need help,” a disinterested voice said from behind the register.
Eddie pulled his eyes away from crate labelled limited eds. just briefly but redirected them back onto the Danish pressing of Melissa his fingers had stalled on when he didn’t actually see anyone behind the register.
Not that he really minded anyway – his brain already short-circuiting over the surprisingly doable price tag stuck in the upper right corner.
Honestly, he was somewhat relieved whoever was behind the register didn’t seem to be one of those pushy salesmen who hovered around customers like it was their fist time stepping into a record store. He preferred being left alone with the crates in front of him – especially considering he was acting like a fucking teenager every time his eyes landed on something he could add to his already ridiculous collection.
Something unfamiliar drifted through the speakers overhead, low and moody enough to catch his attention. Good enough, too, that he made a mental note to ask whoever was behind the register what artist it was.
By the time the soft streaks of sunshine had faded into a dusky blue evening, he’d already piled an embarrassing amount of records on top of one of the crates, and was now trying to convince himself not to go digging through the rack of vintage tees too.
He walked to the rack without really thinking it through. He was already spending more than he should’ve anyway — might as well indulge a little more.
The thin, high-pitched scrape of metal against metal made him scrunch his nose as his ringed, calloused fingers pushed through the hangers, eyes scanning every faded design he flipped past.
The annoying scrape of metal faded abruptly when his fingers stalled on a pristine shirt that was, unfortunately, just a little outside his budget.
"The price is ridiculous, I know," the voice behind the counter mumbled, followed by the faint sound of movement. "But it's an original from '81."
Eddie looked over his shoulder just enough to show he was listening before his attention drifted back to the shirt in his hands.
“Took my dad forever to get that one,” you added absentmindedly.
That finally dragged Eddie’s attention away from the shirt in his hands, his brows already furrowing before he’d even fully turned around.
His dark brown eyes finally landed on you behind the register, your chin propped against your palm while you drummed a pen absentmindedly to the song playing overhead.
You couldn’t have been more than twenty years old.
Which, considering the shirt in his hands was older than you were, probably explained the comment about your dad.
“Maiden fan?” he asked, eyes flickering between you and the shirt he still held.
You deadpanned, tilting your head slightly.
“2 AM.”
Eddie furrowed his eyebrows again. “What?”
“You were about to make me name an Iron Maiden song that isn’t Fear of the Dark or The Trooper,” you said flatly, like this was far from the first time you’d had this exact conversation. “So, 2 AM. From their 1995 album The X Factor.”
Eddie stilled, blinking at you a couple times like he genuinely hadn’t expected that answer to come out of your mouth.
“I, uh… wasn’t gonna ask that,” he mumbled, his brows still faintly furrowed. “But, 2 AM, seriously? That’s a depressive pull.”
You scoffed lightly, the corner of your mouth already twitching upward.
“Yeah, well. I like the depressive stuff.”
You still had your chin propped in your hand as your eyes drifted slowly over him, taking in the curls that had escaped his messy bun, and the way his ringed fingers twitched against the preserved cotton.
But the nervous blinking was what really got you, which felt somewhat ridiculous, considering he was, what? In his late thirties, early forties?
Cute.
Eddie recovered – just slightly – from being caught off guard by the blatant way you’d checked him out, enough to squint at you jokingly.
“Alright, smartass. What’s your favourite Dio album?”
You squinted back, pushing your tongue against the inside of your cheek.
“Dio the band, or the man himself?” you murmured, slowly pushing yourself off the counter to stand a little straighter. “‘Cause I got different answers depending on what you wanna know.”
“Hit me.” He raised his brows, giving a small nod.
Dragging your gaze down for a split second, you pretended to think about it.
“How about I tell you over a drink?”
Eddie scoffed softly in disbelief, shaking his head as he dragged his eyes away from you for a second before looking back.
“Are you even old enough to get a drink?”
“I asked you out,” you shot back, “not if you could buy me a bottle while I wait around the corner.”
He didn’t say anything right away; instead, he let his eyes linger for a moment longer, noticing the soft way the warm amber lights overhead spread across your face.
He also pretended the tips of his ears didn’t heat up at the fact that someone this young was so blatantly flirting with someone nearly twice her age.
“You flirt like a menace, y’know that?”
The corner of your mouth twitched before you smiled bashfully, some of your earlier confidence slipping for just a second before you pulled it back together.
“Just with people who have good taste in music.”
By the time the bartender slid your drinks onto the table, Eddie still wasn’t sure how a twenty-something-year-old had managed to talk him into this.
You crossed your legs beneath the table as you gently pushed his neat whiskey closer to him before curling your hand around your beer.
His eyes lingered briefly on your chipped black nail polish before traveling up to the heavy silver rings wrapped around your fingers, ultimately settling on your face.
The dim lighting made you look softer than you had back at the record shop, casting a different kind of glow across your eyes.
“You always ask strange men out after arguing about Iron Maiden?” he asked as he mirrored you, curling his hand around his own glass.
“Not really,” you smiled softly, noticeably shyer than you’d been up until now. “Don’t know how you made the cut.”
Eddie looked away for a moment, biting lightly at his lip as he nodded absentmindedly, a strange self-conscious feeling slowly settling in the pit of his stomach.
It had been… a while since someone had asked him out. Not to mention someone nearly half his age – which was definitely a first.
“Holy Diver’s the obvious answer,” you started slowly after taking a sip of your beer. “But Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow kinda ruined my life.”
A small, disbelieving smile found its way onto Eddie’s lips.
“If Rainbow counts,” you added quickly.
“Rainbow absolutely counts,” he chuckled, raising a brow as his gaze dropped briefly to your hand, catching the faint nicotine stain between two fingers. “Lemme guess – Catch the Rainbow.”
“Look at you,” you laughed softly before wetting your lips. “You already know me so well.”
Your eyes sparkled a little too brightly beneath the dim bar lights, soft shadows settling across your face.
And suddenly, Eddie didn’t feel quite so self-conscious anymore. Not with the way you were looking at him.
“You wanna smoke?”
“Can you lose one?” you asked hesitantly before scrunching your nose. “Just ran out, and I couldn’t exactly leave the store to buy more.”
“For you? Always.”
The intimate words slipped from his mouth before he could think them through; strangely enough, though, they didn’t feel weird on his tongue.
Eddie stood first, reaching for your class before you could while you slid out of the booth beside him.
The low hum of conversations and clinking glasses faded into the background as the two of you made your way through the crowded bar, shoulders brushing once when someone stumbled past with an overly loud laugh and an apology neither one of you really paid attention to.
The soft evening breeze hit Eddie’s face the second he pushed the door open with his foot, carrying the faint smell of city streets and beer spilled somewhere along the sidewalk outside.
Most of the patio tables sat empty at this hour despite the lingering warmth of the evening, leaving the two of you to settle at one tucked near the railing beneath the weak amber glow of an overhead streetlamp.
He slid your sweating glass of beer back towards you before reaching for the slightly crumpled pack of Camels in the front pocket of his jeans. He lifted a cigarette to his lips before he pulled out another one and held it out for you.
The lighter followed almost immediately – silver and worn, in the kind of way that made it obvious he’d had it for years.
Eddie flicked it open with easy precision, lighting it and tilting it closer to you.
You slid your glass to the side and placed your hands at the edge of the seat, fingers curling around the cool wood as you leaned forward just slightly with the cigarette already between your lips. The flame reflected warmly in your eyes while you looked up at him from under your lashes before he absentmindedly brought it to his own cigarette, quietly noticing the subtle arch in your posture as you leaned closer.
He took a long, slow drag and let the smoke curl in his lungs for a moment, while he took in the sight in front of him – the way your lips closed around the brown filter, your little habit of actually swallowing down the smoke before you blew it out, the way you still hadn’t looked away from him.
“You’re pretty,” he mumbled under his breath, almost like he wasn’t actually aware he was saying it out loud.
A shy smile crept across your face as you finally broke eye contact – but only for a split second.
“You flirt like an old man,” you chuckled.
“Yeah, well, Sweetheart,” Eddie scoffed jokingly. “That’s kinda what happens when you ask out someone who’s twice your age.”
“Didn’t say I didn’t like it.”
Just six little words were enough to make his stomach twist in a way he wasn’t used to anymore – especially with the knowing smile you gave him afterward.
He knew the smart thing would be to pull away. Change the subject. Steer the conversation towards something safer than this quiet little push and the pull the two of you had slipped into.
But instead, he stayed exactly where he was, fingers curled loosely around his cigarette as his gaze followed the slow lift of your beer to your lips.
A stray drop of beer escaped from the corner of your mouth, threatening to trail down your chin before Eddie reached over and caught it with his thumb before it had the chance.
The look he gave you as he dragged his tongue across his thumb was enough to make it painfully obvious he’d done it on purpose.
Eddie watched your throat move when you swallowed.
“You keep looking at me like that,” you mumbled quietly, “and I’m gonna start thinking you want something.”
His cigarette rested forgotten between his fingers as the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
“Sweetheart,” he said lowly, “I think we’re a little past that already.”
Your gaze dropped briefly to his mouth before flicking back up again, subtle enough that most people probably wouldn’t have caught it – but Eddie did.
The corner of his mouth twitched as he leaned back in his chair, cigarette balanced loosely between his fingers while he watched you through the thin curls of smoke.
“Careful,” he murmured, finally tapping ash from his cigarette while his eyes stayed fixed on you. “Keep lookin’ at me like that and I’m gonna forget how old you are.”
“Good.” You held the smoke in your lungs for a second before exhaling slowly, teeth catching your bottom lip out of habit more than anything else. “‘Cause I already forgot yours.”
Eddie’s hand barely softened the force of your back hitting the brick wall he’d pushed you against, the heavy rings on his fingers catching against your scalp as he buried his hand in your hair and pulled.
This close, it was impossible not to notice the scent of motor oil clinging to him beneath the minty cologne, and the cigarette smoke.
And fuck, that alone was enough to ruin you a little.
His other hand found your face, thumb pressing into your cheek while the rest of his fingers spread against the other as he tilted your head and deepened the kiss.
Eddie nudged your mouth open with his, brushing his tongue against your bottom lip first – almost hesitant, like some part of him still wasn’t fully sure he should be doing this. But then he kissed you harder, and his tongue slid against yours, warm and slick, and you could still taste the lingering bite of spicy citrus of his whiskey on him.
“Please tell me you live nearby,” he murmured against your lips when he finally pulled back just slightly.
“Above the shop,” you mumbled back, voice low and still a little drunk on his kiss.
Eddie still had a tight grip on your hair and jaw when he pulled away a little more, pupils blown wide, lips slick with your spit, and his greying curls even messier than they’d been all evening.
He could feel the warmth rising beneath his fingers when he tilted his head back slightly, biting at his lip while keeping his eyes locked on yours.
“Good,” he murmured.
He kept his grip on you for a few moments longer, in no real rush to move back towards the shop despite the heat slowly settling low in his stomach, eyes fixed on the breathless look spread across your face.
A quiet fuck slipped from beneath your breath, your thoughts short-circuiting around the tight grip he still had on you and the unbearably cocky look he was giving you.
“C’mon.” He scoffed softly under his breath before tilting his head towards the buzzing street. “Before I take you right here.”
Your pulse hammered beneath his fingertips as his hands grabbed at your hips instead, pulling you away from the wall and back into him for one more quick, messy kiss before he laced his fingers through yours and guided you out the alley he’d pulled you into earlier.
He only let go of your hand once – to shrug off his jacket and drape it over your shoulders when the cold evening wind picked up around the two of you.
Every now and then he’d tug you back against him just long enough to steal another kiss beneath the amber streetlights before continuing down the sidewalk like he hadn’t just completely short-circuited your brain again with his warm, plush lips and the comforting smell of leather and smoke clinging to his jacket.
“You always this clingy after two drinks?” you teased quietly.
Eddie only snorted under his breath before glancing down at you.
“You always this distracting?”
Feeling too flustered to come up with a proper reply, you only clicked your tongue softly before letting go of his hand to dig the cluttered keychain out of your bag once the shop came back into view.
“Please don’t mind the mess,” you mumbled under your breath while unlocking the door.
Eddie barely waited for the lock to click open before one of his hands found your hip again while the other slid around your throat, firmly tilting your head back so he could kiss you again.
While one of your hands curled loosely around the forearm resting on your throat, you weakly pushed the door open with the other as Eddie pressed his chest flush against your back and shuffled the two of you into the cramped entryway.
He nudged the door shut with his foot without pulling away from you – not when the pretty, muffled whimpers slipping from your mouth were making him even harder than he already was.
His rings pressed against your throat as he kept your head tilted back, kissing deep and messily from the awkward angle he held you at while his tongue slid insistently against yours. His bottom lip brushed sloppily against your upper one, teeth knocking together every now and then while a small drop of spit slipped from the corner of your mouth.
He finally pulled away – though reluctantly – when another soft, pathetic whimper slipped from your mouth into his.
“Take me upstairs, sweetheart.”
Eddie’s pupils blew wide as he took in the dumbfounded way you were staring up at him, lips swollen and slick with his spit.
He loosened his grip on you just enough to give your ass a quick smack when you kept staring up at him instead of moving.
“C’mon now,” he muttered, a cocky little grin tugging at the corner of his lips.
You licked your lips and swallowed hard before finally nodding absentmindedly, your gaze flicking towards the stairs.
Neither of you bothered to break the thick, expectant silence as you guided him upstairs.
Kicking off your shoes once you finally got upstairs, you flicked the lights on, revealing a living room that looked like it had been pulled straight out of the seventies.
Brown couch, walls covered in posters, plants crowding nearly every surface, a funky patterned rug tying it all together – not exactly what Eddie had expected from the girl in eyeliner and a vintage Metallica shirt.
Eddie glanced around the apartment before letting out a quiet laugh under his breath.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “This place looks like my childhood.”
That pulled a soft laugh from you.
“Yeah, well,” you chuckled under your breath, “I was raised on old records and questionable interior design.”
Your face warmed a little when he kicked off his boots and drifted towards the record collection in the corner, suddenly feeling weirdly nervous about what he might think of your music taste.
“Fuck, you might have a bigger collection that I do, sweetheart,” he said distractedly. “There’s some seriously good stuff in here.”
You chuckled again, softly under your breath, as you wandered towards the kitchen and pulling two glasses from the cupboard.
“Glad you approve of my music taste,” you teased while pushing through the beaded curtain separating the kitchen from the living room. “Choose your poison: whiskey or rum?”
Eddie looked over his shoulder, his attention finally dragged away from the records when the clinking beads announced your return from the kitchen – which, considering the rest of the apartment, of course only made the drinking cart in the corner of the living room feel more fitting.
The soft metallic raps of the pour against glass filled the room alongside the warm scent of toasted oak and brown sugar from the rum you were pouring yourself.
The bottle twitched slightly in your hand when Eddie suddenly stepped in behind you, one arm wrapping loosely around your waist while he pushed a strand of hair aside to press a kiss against your neck.
“Watcha havin’?” he murmured against your skin, warm breath fanning across your neck.
You swallowed hard, feeling yourself growing flustered all over again before tilting the bottle slightly so he could see the label.
His lips stayed glued to your neck, pressing slow, messy kisses against your skin while he hummed quietly between them.
“Wanna share?” he murmured, voice muffled by the fact he still refused to let go of you.
“If you keep kissing me like that,” you mumbled breathlessly after screwing the bottle shut and setting it back down, “we’re not gonna end up drinking anything.”
His greying curls tickled your skin when he chuckled against your neck.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
You looked over your shoulder, catching his mouth with yours and finally forcing him to abandon your neck long enough for you to turn properly towards him.
Your hand slid from his chest to the back of his neck before tangling into his curls and tugging hard enough to pull a rough sound from him.
You bit lightly at his bottom lip before kissing him again – messy and impatient this time – and Eddie immediately tightened his grip on your hips, pulling your body flush against his while his fingers pressed harder into your skin.
“Couch or bed?” you breathed against his lips before dragging slow kisses down the side of his neck.
A rough fuck slipped from Eddie’s mouth as he tipped his head back slightly, swallowing hard when you sucked at his skin.
“You attached to your couch?” he muttered, already steering the two of you towards it.
Finally pulling away from his mouth, you harshly pushed him back against the worn suede cushions before straddling his lap.
“I might after tonight,” you whispered teasingly as your hands slipped up around his neck, drawing him back into another messy kiss before he could even think of a reply.
You rolled your hips curiously against his, feeling the sharp twitch of his cock beneath the thick denim of his jeans before pulling away just enough to brush your lips back against his neck, catching the rapid pulse fluttering beneath his skin. Eddie’s hand tightened around your hip immediately, guiding your movements faster as he tipped his head enough to catch your earlobe between his teeth while his other hand slid down your back, under your skirt to your ass.
A rough groan slipped from him when you sucked harder against his neck – enough to leave something behind for him to remember you by later.
“Take it off,” he mumbled as he tugged impatiently at the jacket still hanging loosely from your shoulders, his movements hurried despite the softness in his voice.
You grabbed at the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head before catching his mouth again in another messy, wet kiss. He kissed you with fervour, tongue crashing wildly against yours while he kneaded the supple flesh, warm rings digging into your ass.
Eddie reached down and grabbed the hem of your shirt, breaking the kiss, and hurriedly peeling it up to reveal the lack of a bra on you.
He tilted his back just slightly as he groaned, sounding almost pained, at the view of your gradually hardening nipples. He threw your shirt somewhere behind you, and latched his lips against your throat. He left soft nibs and wet, messy kissed as he trailed down to catch one of your nipples in his mouth, while the hand he had on your hip slid up to pinch the other.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he rasped between licks as you arched further into his touch and buckled against his hard on. “Gonna make you feel so fucking good.”
Eddie curled his lips around your nipple once more, gently biting and pulling at it, and then smoothing the sting down with his tongue before he repeated the whole thing all over again.
Slowly, he trailed his hand lower, calloused fingertips grazing along the sensitive skin of your ribs and inner thighs until he reached the lacy edge of your panties. He hooked his fingers underneath, just to snap the fabric against your skin and steal another whimper from you. He bit your nipple one more time before pulling away, looking at you from under his lashes as he drag your panties down just enough to see the mess you’d made.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he praised huskily, ghosting his fingertips along your slit and circling your swollen clit, “all this for me?”
All you could really do was give him another pathetic whimper.
With a cocky grin, he pulled his fingers away and suddenly lifted you off him to throw you on the couch, scoffing softly at the way your breasts jiggled with the hard movement before biting his lips.
Eddie straddled you before you could react properly and pinned your wrists above your head with his ringed hand while he pulled at your lacy panties with the other.
“I’m going to absolutely ruin you,” he groaned as he ground against your pussy, not caring if it would ruin his jeans.
He finally let go of your wrists to push himself up straight and unbutton his jeans.
Your chest fell and rose erratically, eyes glued to his tattooed chest before they trailed down to his fingers pulling at the zipper. Eddie didn’t take off his jeans after that, too busy dipping his head back to your tits and trailing his tongue down from your nipple to the waist of your skirt.
“This stays on,” he groaned, looking up at you as he dipped lower and pushed your thighs apart with his hands.
“Y-you…” you trailed off breathlessly, gulping down when he licked his lips. “You don’t have to.”
“Oh, I absolutely do,” Eddie groaned back, eyes glued to your slick folds. “Can’t just ignore this pretty pussy, not when she’s begging for me.”
He lowered his head and circled your clit with the tip of tongue before sealing his lips around it, sucking greedily. His fingers dug harder into your skin as he buried his face deeper, lapping and probing your leaking slit. He pushed his tongue inside you, fucking you with it before pulling away to spit on your cunt. Eddie’s eyes flickered back to your face as he slipped one finger into your sloppy cunt, curling it to stroke along your slick walls. His lips, still shiny with you, fell open to groan when he felt you flutter around him, encouraging him to pump his finger a little faster.
“I– Fuck, Eddie.”
Gently adding another finger, he stretched you open before dipping his bead back to lap at your clit, swirling his tongue around it. Eddie thrusted his fingers faster, curling them to hit that special spot inside you to bring you closer to the edge. He relentlessly fingered your cunt open while lashing his tongue against your swollen nub, determined to wring every ounce of pleasure from your quivering body.
“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” he moaned against you when he felt you clench around his fingers, sending vibrations down your clit. “C’mon, baby, you can do it. Give it to me.”
Eddie curled his fingers, thrusting them in and out of you, while he sucked greedily hard at you, sending electric shocks through your body. Your hips bucked against his face as he brought you closer to the brink. He flickered his eyes to yours, crooking his fingers even harder than before, finally pushing you over the edge with a few final hard sucks and thrusts of his fingers.
Your pretty groans and whimpers shattered into a high-pitched moan as you finally came on Eddie’s ringed fingers.
Eddie gave your clit one last greedy kiss, ignoring the overstimulated twitch of your thighs around his face, and pushed himself up to smash his lips onto yours. His chin and cheeks were glistening, and the taste of your slick was heavy on his tongue.
“Can’t believe you were gonna hold out on me,” he said when he broke away, and frowned down at you, dark silver curls framing his face. “Boys your age don’t ever eat you out? That why you tried to stop me?”
You breathed heavily as you blinked a few times to clear your vision from the black spots blocking his view.
Eddie brought his sticky fingers to your face, and tapped your cheeks firmly, his eyebrows still furrowed. “Answer me when I ask you a question.”
“I…” you trailed off, mind hazy from the orgasm he just gave you. “No, they don’t.”
Eddie tsked at that, his brows relaxing while the corners of his mouth pulled into a cocky grin.
“Good,” he murmured, eyes still glued on yours. “More for me.”
Capturing your lips again, he poured all his spent-up energy into the filthy embrace. His slick tongue brushed messily against yours, teeth clinking against teeth, until spit rolled from the corner of his mouth and down your chin. He broke away reluctantly and rested his sweat-dampened brow against yours.
Eddie wrapped his hands around your thighs and pulled you closer until the rough edges of his zipper rasped against your sensitive folds. He gave you a few desperate rolls of his hips before he loosened his grip on you and pulled himself off the couch.
He stood tall, right at the edge of the couch, and let his eyes travel down your body as he pushed down his jeans until they dropped around his ankles with a soft thud. He noticed the way your thighs twitched when he stepped out of it and pulled off his boxers to free his strained erection.
He looked beautiful – long, and thicker than you’d imagined, with a painfully swollen tip that already leaked with sticky beads of pre cum – with his brows furrowed as he wrapped his hand around himself, stroking his cock once, twice, eyes glued onto yours while he did so.
“How do you want me?”
“Raw,” you breathed out before forcing down a dry lump down your throat. “Please.”
Eddie’s cock twitched in his hand while he sank his knees back down onto the couch. He loosened his grip around himself and wrapped his hands around your thighs once more.
He lined the swollen tip against your leaking slit before he changed his mind, and slid his cock between your still sensitive, sticky folds instead – like he hadn’t entirely decided if you deserved to be fucked just yet.
“Careful, now,” he groaned, eyebrows furrowed again as he glued his eyes on the way you were staining his cock. “Might start thinkin’ you wanna be bred.”
Then, when he’d finally lost the rest of his restraint, he notched his leaking tip at your slit, and pushed in slowly – inch, by agonizing inch, until he was buried to the hilt.
His cock stretched you open, sharp and painfully in the best way possible.
“I– Fuck, Eddie,” you choked out, brows furrowed. “I-I don’t–”
“Yes, you can,” he scoffed, digging his fingers deeper into your thighs. “You’re already doin’ it, sweetheart.”
Eddie stilled, allowing the both of you a moment to process the overwhelming feeling. Slowly, he withdrew until just the tip remained nestled within your slick heat. Then, with torturous gentleness, he sank back in and savoured each slick inch as he claimed you completely.
The pathetic whimpers mingled with his grunts before he leaned over again and pressed open-mouthed kisses along the nape of your neck.
“See? You’re doing it,” he breathed out against your skin. “You take me so fucking well, baby.”
He let out a grow, scrunched eyebrows as he worked you open, faster and deeper with each thrust. You couldn’t help but clench around him, dizzy and stupid with the way his tip brushed against that one spot so perfectly.
You threw one of your arms around his neck while the other found a tight grip in his dark silver curls, pulling at his locks and digging your nails into his skin every time he slid his cock in and out of you.
“Oh, God–”
He only grabbed your thighs even harder, angling his head to suck harshly at your neck, desperate to mark you, to claim you as his while you whine pathetically beneath him. The pretty sounds that left your mouth made his head spin, and his cock twitched with the need to pound you into your couch.
Eddie snapped his hips into yours, desperately thrusting his cock in and out of you as he pulled embarrassing squelching sounds out of your pussy, along with your broken moans and the hard slaps of his heavy balls hitting your ass.
“P-please,” you whimpered.
“Please, what, sweetheart?” He bit at your earlobe. “Am I not giving you enough, is that it?”
He pushed your thighs up until your knees touched your breasts, leaving you splayed wide and exposed, trembling in his hold.
“Look at you,” he groaned appreciatively as he drank in the sight of his cock disappearing in your slick folds with each hard thrust he gave you. “Is this what you wanted, hm?”
You moaned louder with each sharp brush of his curly bush against your sensitive clit.
Eddie was fucking experienced, and it showed by the way he knew exactly how to pound into you and roll his hips while rearranging your guts.
“C’mon, pretty girl,” he groaned low in your ear, “wanna have you squeezing around me as you come, can you do that f’me?”
He loosened one of his hands around your thighs and brought up his ringed thumb to your bottom lip. The heavy silver bit into your chin while he forced his thumb into your mouth.
“Suck.”
Your eyebrows scrunched at his request, drunk on his words, while you followed his demand. Your tongue staining his digit with filthy strokes, before he yanked his thumb away again.
Eddie’s thumb easily found your already abused clit – and fuck, the combination of his cock dragging against your slick walls, the tight circles he drew against your clit, and the dumbfounded look he gave you were more than enough to make you clench hard around his cock.
“That’s it, baby,” he chuckled cockily. “Fucking come for me.”
That was all the encouragement you needed; your vision blackened once again while he fucked you through it, heavy thumb still working your clit even when you twitched hard with overstimulation.
You pulled hard at his hair, and treated him as an anchor as you arched your back despite the position he still had you in. Your walls fluttered, and his name you moaned out broke as you came again.
“Ed-Eddie fuckfuckfuck.”
He pressed his forehead against yours while he continuously pushed into you, seeking his own release.
“Atta girl,” he groaned loudly as he rutted deep, his body sweaty, and lips swollen from leaving pretty marks on your neck. “Where do you want me?”
“Inside. Please, Eddie.”
All he needed were those three little words – pretty, panting whispers that made him rut into you until his thrusts went erratic.
Until he gave you one last, desperate thrust, his heavy balls hitting your ass as he groaned out your name and filled you with white, warm sticky ropes. He dropped his head forwards, and bit into your neck as he rode out the last of his orgasm.
Eddie let out a breathy chuckle, his nose brushing against your skin before he finally pulled away from you. He dragged a hand through his hair, pushing the dark silver strands away from his face while he tried – and failed – to catch his breath.
“You’re fucking unbelievable,” he breathed out, licking at his lips while his mouth hung open, chest still rising unevenly.
Then he stepped back just enough for his knees to crack softly as he lowered himself onto the floor between your legs, pulling you closer to the edge of the couch until your legs dangled over his shoulders.
“W-what are you–” you breathed out, low and pathetic, while your eyes did their best to stay open.
Eddie wrapped his hands around your thighs again, holding you there while he trailed soft kisses along your skin. His rings dug deeper into you when you tried to pull away from his lips when he got too close to your overstimulated, leaking cunt.
“I-I can’t, Eddie–” you whimpered pathetically, doing your best to pull your hips away from him, but to no avail. “It’s t-too m-much.”
“Yes, you can, baby.” Your pussy twitched when he chuckled tiredly, his warm breath spreading over you just before he gave you a lingering kiss on your clit. “Just one more. You don’t wanna disappoint me, do you?”
This time, he was gentle with it – he left soft pecks on your swollen nub, slowly trailing down until his tongue lapped at your leaking slit. Eddie leaned softly into your cunt, nose bumping against your clit while he licked you clean from his cum.
You tiredly reached for his head, weakly trying to push his forehead away when overstimulated tears started rolling down.
“Ed-Eddie,” you chocked out a sob, hips twitching against his greedy face. “P-please, I can’t–”
“Shhh,” he whispered against your heat, fingers digging hard into your thighs as he pulled you even closer to his face. “Be good for me, baby.”
Your chest rose up and down erratically as you tried to catch your breath, choking on pathetic whimpers and sobs, while Eddie continued his gentle abuse on your pussy. His tongue was warm and slick against your wet, sticky folds, lapping gently at your slit as he collected everything he gave you.
The tight grip he had on your thighs didn’t stop you from twitching uncontrollably as you clenched around his tongue and came one last time. His name died on the tip of your tongue as he kept lapping at your slit for a few more times, before gently lowering your legs off his shoulders. Eddie then climbed back on you and pulled your legs up his hips.
One of his hands let go of your calf and grabbed at your face instead, pulling your cheeks together until your mouth hang open for him. The corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk right before he opened his lips and spat his cum on your tongue.
You looked absolutely pathetic – eyebrows furrowed and slightly raised, and teary eyes looking tiredly up at him while he still had a tight grip on your cheeks. Goosebumps spread over your body when he leaned down and caught a milky, rolling drop of cum from your chin and gave it back to you when he smashed his lips back onto yours. A desperate uhmpf! slipped from the back of your throat when his cum-tainted tongue brushed against yours in urgent strokes as he let you taste the mixture of both of you.
Eddie’s cock never had a chance to soften – not when your messy cunt tasted so good with his milky release and your tears wet the fingers still digging deep into your cheeks. He twitched against you, swallowing your broken whimpers while he moved his swollen lips against yours.
“I–”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips, licking at your bottom lip before he gave you another peck. “I’ll let you rest for now.”
Eddie pulled away just enough to look at you – really look at you – and grinned knowingly.
“Unless you got something better going on tonight?”
⋆˚꩜｡ a/n: i have nothing to say, i'll just... put myself in time out
⋆˚꩜｡pairing: 40s!eddie x 20s!fem!reader
⋆˚꩜｡summary: eddie learns that dating someone half his age comes with a few surprises; one of them is learning that your generation talks about sex a lot more openly than his ever did
⋆˚꩜｡tags/tw: explicit content 18+ minors do not interact | no y/n, afab!fem!reader, age gap, early relationship vibes, set in 2008 although not specified, communication is sexy (even when eddie is kind of bad at it), first time anal, anal fingering, masturbation (f!receiving), praise kink if you squint, some very mild degradation, steve deserves financial compensation for putting up with eddie's ass (punt not intended)
⋆˚꩜｡word count: 5.3k+
⋆˚꩜｡a/n: this is a detailed version of this post also I think this sucks so be warned lol
The Eddie you knew and were still getting familiar with was vastly different from the one that had lived through the eighties and nineties.
Well, vastly different might have been a stretch.
All in all, he hadn’t changed that much, if we were being honest. He still liked his hair past his shoulders, still listened to the same six bands and rarely put anything else on, and he still had that pretty boy-ish smile that told everyone in the room he was up to absolutely no good.
But he had changed in the little things. He took better care of his hair now, even spending a little more money than anyone should on a simple shampoo and conditioner, and he rarely talked about sex anymore.
It wasn’t that he’d magically become a prude over the years. He’d simply learned that some things were better — and hotter — left between two people, and no longer felt the need to tell his best friend Steve about whatever fucking position or wild thing had happened in the alley behind the bar.
Except now.
He’d switched to whiskey — double shot, no ice — about five minutes ago after realising the two beers before it weren’t doing much.
Steve, who had begrudgingly left his twenty-five weeks pregnant wife at home to meet Eddie for what had apparently been an emergency drink on a random Wednesday, looked completely and utterly lost as he quietly sipped his Sex on the Beach.
“So,” the younger man started slowly, tilting his glass while absentmindedly playing with the little decorative umbrella. “You gonna tell me what’s been plaguing you?”
“I can’t, Steve.” Eddie groaned, abandoning his nearly empty glass to drag both hands down his face.
“You literally called me because, and I quote,” Steve took a sip before making quotation marks with his fingers. “‘Steve, dude, I need to tell you something or I’m gonna explode.’ So, spill.”
“I know, I know.” Eddie groaned again, tipping back the last of his whiskey and pretending it still burned on the way down. “But I can’t.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because…” Another sigh escaped him as he raised his empty glass towards the bartender for a refill. “It’s about sex, okay? Happy?”
Steve blinked at him and leaned back in his chair and silently raised his own glass for another drink.
“You’re acting like you didn’t fuck half the weird chicks behind the Hideout back in the day,” he said, absentmindedly fiddling with his straw. “I honestly don’t get why you’re acting like a fucking virgin. You’re pushing fifty, Edward.”
“I’m forty-two, Stephen,” Eddie deadpanned. “You— Forget it. You don’t understand.”
“Of course I don’t understand. You haven’t said shit fort the last hour.”
“It’s just…” Another defeated sigh escaped Eddie as his tattooed hand disappeared into the dark brown hair now threaded with silver that had, much to his horror, finally started to show.
He was being ridiculous, he knew that. Steve was right — he was acting like a fucking virgin despite being the furthest thing from it.
But this? He wasn’t sure about this.
Hell, he wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t imagined the whole fucking thing.
Eddie opened his mouth, only to snap it shut again when two fresh drinks were set down on the table between them.
When the bartender had disappeared just as quickly as she’d arrived, a string of choked words tumbled out of Eddie’s mouth, vowels mashed together with embarrassment as he immediately lifted his glass to his lips, desperate to give himself something — anything — to do besides look at Steve.
“What?” Steve frowned. “Dude, what the fuck. Talk slower, like a normal person.”
“I said…” Eddie repeated, keeping his eyes fixed somewhere on the wall behind Steve. “She asked if I’d ever done anal.”
And there it was — the utter, skin-prickling silence.
Steve simply stared at him.
“…That’s it?” he finally asked after a full minute. “This is what’s had you acting all weird?”
“Dude—”
“Jesus fucking Christ, man.” Steve let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m finishing this drink and going home.”
“What? No.”
“Eddie, you’re being ridiculous.” He licked his lips before taking another sip. “What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that she’s half my age and she’s asking me something I’d never even stopped to think about.”
“So?”
“What do you mean, so?”
Steve sighed. The day was catching up with him, and Eddie’s bullshit wasn’t doing much to help. So he pulled his glass a little closer, took another sip through the straw, and counted to ten.
“I don’t see what the problem is.”
“You don’t—” Eddie sighed, exasperated, averting his gaze like he couldn’t quite believe what had just come out of his mouth. “Steve, we grew up in the eighties.”
“I know. I survived it.”
“Other than the occasional dirty joke at a party, we didn’t exactly sit around discussing sex.”
Steve frowned as he thought about it. “Now that you mention it…”
“Girls back then never asked if you’d tried this or that. They asked if you were a virgin, and if you both were, you just figured shit out… and then never spoke about it again.”
Steve leaned back in his chair, resting an elbow on the armrest as he sipped at his ridiculously bright cocktail, nodding along to Eddie’s rambling.
“Meanwhile, this girl looked me dead in the eye at nine in the morning and went, Have you ever tried anal? Like she was asking me if I’d ever seen Jurassic Park.”
A snort escaped Steve at the comparison.
“What did you reply?”
“…‘Can I have some coffee first?’”
Steve shook his head in disbelief, set his drink back down, and rested both hands behind his head like he was sprawled out on the couch watching a football game.
“Jesus, Eddie. You’re unbelievable.” He groaned.
“I’m going to kill myself,” Eddie muttered.
“Without trying anal first?”
“Steve.”
“The joke wrote itself, man.”
The younger man shrugged again, absentmindedly spinning his straw between his fingers.
“Listen, just go home and talk to her,” he said simply. “Tell her… I don’t know, that you weren’t expecting the question or something.”
“I can’t just… talk to her about it.”
“Eddie, my man, you’re acting like a fucking teenager.” Steve shook his head. “How long have you been seeing her?”
“Four months, give or take.”
“Four months,” he repeated slowly. “If this is supposed to go anywhere, you need to learn how to communicate. Apparently, that’s something you still haven’t figured out after forty-two years.”
“I hate you,” Eddie muttered over the rim of his glass.
“No.” Steve pointed at him with the end of his straw. “You hate that I’m right. There’s a difference.”
Much to his dismay, Steve had, in fact, been right.
Eddie had spent the entire fifteen-minute drive back to your place mentally turning over every word in the English dictionary, trying to figure out what he was supposed — what he wanted — to say once he got there.
By the time the red lacquered front door came into view, he still hadn’t figured it out.
The doorbell rang before he even really registered pressing it, and it only took a few seconds before he heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching.
And then there you were, standing right in front of him with messy hair and an oversized shirt you’d customised a few years earlier, back when you were still in high school.
“Hey—”
“I can’t stop thinking about your question, and it’s driving me absolutely insane.”
Your head tilted at the rapid stream of words that tumbled out of his mouth.
For a moment, neither of you said anything. Somehow, you’d found yourselves locked in a staring contest that neither of you remembered starting.
“Uh… hi to you too, Eds,” you chuckled after a moment, pulling the door open a little wider.
Eddie slipped past you without another word, too busy worrying at his bottom lip to even attempt an explanation.
His dark brown eyes darted around your little living room with a newfound sense of curiosity that was really nothing more than embarrassment hiding behind a mask.
Eddie’s gaze bounced from the far corner overflowing with potted plants to the extensive book collection you’d built over the years.
He was looking at anything that wasn’t you.
Which definitely hadn’t gone unnoticed.
The tip of your tongue pressed against the inside of your cheek as you quietly closed the front door behind you, your eyes fixed on the strange way he stood in the middle of your shoebox-sized apartment.
You leaned back against the door, absentmindedly drumming your fingers against the wood as you studied him.
“Eds—”
“I wasn’t expecting to hear something like that as nine in the morning,” he blurted. “Especially not how casually it slipped out of your mouth.”
“Look…” you sighed, scratching thoughtfully at your chin. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention.”
“What?” Eddie’s attention finally snapped back to you. “I’m not uncomfortable.”
“Are you sure?” you asked quietly, raising an eyebrow. “Because you’re acting like a teenager who just found out he’s gonna be a dad at fifteen.”
Suddenly, the little painted squares you’d made at a paint-and-sip workshop with a friend became ten times more interesting than looking you in the eye.
A quiet sigh escaped you as you pushed yourself off the door and walked over to him.
Eddie’s cheeks had turned a soft shade of pink as he stubbornly refused to meet your gaze, even when your warm hand gently cupped his jaw and tried to guide his face back towards yours.
“We can just pretend none of it happened, if you want.”
He still wouldn’t look at you, nervously worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.
Then, ever so slowly, dark brown eyes finally found yours beneath the warm amber light.
“I…” He swallowed. “I don’t want to… pretend.”
The warmth beneath your hand deepened as his blush spread from his cheeks down his neck, your palm following its path until it rested lightly against his chest.
Your expression softened at the shy tone of his confession.
Letting go of his chest, your fingers curled around his hand instead, gently tugging him towards the couch.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
Eddie slumped back against the cushions, full lashes fluttering with the incessant blinking of his eyes.
His hands found your hips, gently pulling you onto his lap.
“It’s just… You asked it so easily.” He let out a humourless laugh as his thumbs absentmindedly traced slow circles over the tops of your thighs. “In my time—”
“God, don’t say that.” You cringed. “That makes you sound old.”
“Sweetheart,” Eddie deadpanned, a rogue chuckle escaping him.
“You know what I mean.” You rolled your eyes playfully before settling back against his chest, following his gaze to the silent television across the room. “Sorry. Please continue.”
“It just caught me off guard how easy it is for you to talk about sex,” he admitted quietly. “When I was your age, girls would’ve rather set themselves on fire than ask their boyfriends something like that.”
“…That bad?”
“In Hawkins?” He snorted, looking down at you with one raised eyebrow as though the answer should’ve been obvious. “You have no idea.”
The silence that followed lingered for a few moments as the two of you watched the two brothers hop in their jealousy-inducing car.
Then you licked your lips and shifted, turning to properly straddle his lap.
“I like talking about sex.” You admitted and shrugged at his wide-eyed expression. “Not just because it’s dirty or exciting. I’d just rather ask what you like than guess.”
Eddie’s eyes drifted over your shoulder and back to the television. One of the two brothers had somehow turned into a vampire while the other acted weirder than usual.
“You know…” he started hesitantly, still watching the show play out in silence. “I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me what I wanted before.”
You frowned at the quiet confession. “Really?”
“We just…” He shrugged, like it wasn’t something worth dwelling on. “Did things as we went.”
You reached up, brushing your thumb across his cheek and patiently waited for his eyes to find their way back to yours.
“Well,” you smiled softly, “I’m asking now.”
Eddie’s lips curled into a small, sheepish smile.
“Can I think about it?”
“Of course you can, Eds.” You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I was… kinda hoping you would.”
Before he could make fun of your little confession, you pushed yourself off his lap and darted towards the kitchen.
“I bought your favourite,” you called, pushing the beaded curtain aside. “You want ice with it?”
“How did you–”
“I can smell it on your breath, Eds.” Your chuckle echoed through the tiny kitchen and into the living room.
“…Just one ice cube, please.”
Eddie had stayed over the previous night after one drink had turned into two more, while the two of you laughed about sweet nothings as the television continued playing that weird show about demon hunting brothers in the background.
As it turned out, Eddie didn’t have to think about it.
Not really, anyway.
While he’d been busy panicking at the bar with Steve and then again during the drive back to your place, his subconscious had already made the decision for him — he just hadn’t noticed it.
Not until his eyes slowly fluttered open to the stark white ceiling of your bedroom, his brain immediately replaying the… particularly raunchy dream he’d had during the night.
And then there was the, uh… wooden log between his legs.
His eyes instantly drifted to his left, finding you still sound asleep with your back turned to him. Your frame rose and fell with each steady breath, and Eddie felt like a fucking teenager all over again at the mere sight of you — and at the persistent morning problem he’d woken up with.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbled groggily, dragging both hands down his face. “Get it together, man.”
Forcing himself out of the warmth of your bed, Eddie did the only thing he could think of: ignore whatever the hell was happening beneath his boxers and make himself useful by quietly sneaking out to put breakfast together.
Not even ten minutes after he’d finally gotten the situation between his legs under control and managed to coax your second-hand stove into working, careful footsteps padded down the hallway and into the kitchen.
Eddie tried really, really hard not to tense when your arms slipped around his waist and your face nestled against the broad expanse of his tattooed back.
He failed the moment your warmth seeped through his skin and your sleepy voice reached his ears.
“Morning,” you mumbled.
“Morning,” he replied a little too quickly.
A content sigh escaped you as you leaned further into him, tightening your hold around his frame.
“You’re acting weird again.”
“I’m not—”
Eddie cut himself off with a tired sigh, turning the stove down before carefully prying himself loose just enough to face you.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hands drifting up and down your arms.
“It’s okay—”
“I dreamt about you,” he admitted quietly, his gaze immediately darting towards the small magnetic whiteboard hanging on your fridge.
“Oh?”
“Turns out I don’t need to think about it.”
“Oh.”
You straightened, suddenly feeling far more awake than you did half a second ago, your eyes searching his face as you silently waited for him to continue.
But he didn’t. Instead, he stood there pretending to be deeply invested in your weekly plans scribbled across the whiteboard.
With a small smile, you reached around him and turned the stove off completely.
“I’m trying really hard not to get…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “…hard.”
“Eddie,” you laughed softly.
“I’m serious.” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re standing here in nothing but my shirt and a pair of lacy underwear, and I had the hottest dream of my life, and I—”
He immediately cut himself off, hesitantly lifting his eyes back to yours.
“Tell me about it,” you whispered, resting your eyes hands against his chest.
“About what?”
“The dream, silly.”
It was then and there that Eddie decided you’d come into his life for the sole purpose of turning it completely upside down.
Because there was no way in hell he was going to tell—
“We were watching that stupid show of yours,” he started before his brain had the chance to stop his mouth.
“Supernatural isn’t—”
“And then you stood up and suddenly you were completely fucking naked,” he continued, his hands slowly trailing down your spine until they settled against the soft curve of your ass. “And you started teasing me.”
Your throat suddenly went dry when you felt Eddie’s warm, calloused hands gently kneading the fat of your ass to emphasise his words as he continued recounting the dream.
Not that you were paying all that much attention anymore.
His voice had somehow faded into the background the moment his eyes had flickered down to your lips.
“—and then you were on all fours in the grass,” he continued, pulling you back to reality.
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah, I don’t know either.” Eddie let out a soft chuckle. “But you looked absolutely beautiful, all spread out f’me beneath the warm sunlight.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” you whispered, your stomach dropping in that all-too-familiar way whenever he talked to you like that.
“That’s what I said when I woke up,” he replied, a smug grin slowly creeping across his face.
The way Eddie had been acting over the last twenty-four hours was giving you whiplash.
One minute he was behaving like a schoolboy hopelessly fumbling through his first serious crush. The next, he’d slipped right back into his usual self, teasing you like it was his full-time job.
Your eyes widened in surprise when Eddie leaned in, meeting your lips in a soft, delicate press that felt like a total one-eighty from the conversation you just had. For a moment you froze, heart pounding wildly in your chest, but as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, something in you unfurled.
It’s chaste, almost innocent — just the brush of lips, a shared breath. Yet it sent a thrill down your spine. When he finally pulled away, you blinked dazedly up at him, still caught in the spell he’d just put you under.
You couldn’t do much but hold out your hand in a silent offer.
Eddie ushered you out of the kitchen, glass beads clinking together as the two of you hurried down the hall and made your way back to your bedroom.
The bed hit the backs of your knees as you tumbled onto it, pulling him down with you. Eddie’s tattooed hands roam feverishly, mapping the curves of your body beneath his shirt and drinking the low whimpers escaping your mouth as his fingertips brushed against the swell of your breasts.
You arched into him when his hands trailed back down to the hem of the shirt. He yanked it over your head and tossed it aside, immediately diving for the newly exposed skin. His lips trailed a path down your throat, teeth grazing your collarbone, while his tongue left a slick trail down to the tattoo you’d gotten four months ago at his studio.
“F-fuck, Eddie,” you breathed out, bucking your hips against his in a desperate attempt to ease the ache settling between your legs.
Eddie continued trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses towards your breasts, softly closing his lips around one of your nipples before he gave you a hard suck. His free hand roamed in search of the other one, rolling your hardened nipple between his fingertips while he continued sucking sloppily at the other, thick drops of saliva rolling down one side of your chest.
He pulled back slightly, searching your face after you’d given his scalp a particularly hard tug.
His fingers kept rolling and tugging at your hardened nipple while his eyes stayed fixed on your drunken face — eyebrows furrowed, mouth hanging open while you panted so prettily in his ears when he had barely even started.
“Have you… done this before?”
“N-no,” you confessed quietly.
“You sure you wanna do this, sweetheart?”
There was a certain vulnerability in his voice, but lying on top of you now, feeling the heat of your skin, he found that he desperately wanted you to say yes.
He continued playing with your breast as he waited patiently for your answer.
Like the heavy panting that filled the otherwise silent room wasn’t enough answer.
“Y-yeah.” You licked your lips. “I want you to fuck me in the ass, Eddie.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathed out. “That fucking mouth of yours is gonna be the death of me someday.”
A shiver of excitement raced down his spine. Slowly, deliberately, he trailed his free hand lower, fingers skimming over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You twitched beneath his touch, bringing a smug curl to the corners of his mouth.
Leaning down again, he captured your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your gasps. His other hand mapped the planes of your chest, tweaking your nipple until you writhed beneath him. Breaking away, his dark brown eyes found yours under the soft sunlight spilling through the window.
Not exactly the same way his dream had been, but similar enough.
“We’ll take it slow, okay?” He assured, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.
To punctuate his promise, he slowly rolled his hips against yours, groaning at the delicious friction.
He gently guided you onto your stomach, trailing reverent kisses down the length of your spine. When he reached your ass, he hooked his tattooed fingers into the waistband of your lacy underwear, tugging them torturously slow down your legs. Cool air kissed heated skin as he bared you inch by tantalising inch.
Eddie took a moment to admire the sight of you spread out before him, warm and quivering and absolutely desperate under his gaze.
“Gonna be so gentle with you, I promise,” he panted over your bare back, leaving soft kisses in between words.
He gave both of your ass cheeks a hard slap, watching the soft fat giggle afterwards. His heartbeat quickened and a low groan fell from his lips as his eyes maintained glued to your ass, slowly pulling your cheeks apart until you were completely exposed for him.
He never actually tried anal, or even gave it a second thought as had already been established, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew the familiar bottle of lube tucked away in your dresser probably wasn’t the right kind, but it would have to do.
The drawer creaked softly as he pulled it open and reached for the bottle. It felt cool and slick against his fingertips as he gave it a tentative squeeze.
Eddie flicked his wrist, circling your rim teasingly, relishing your trembling exhale when you felt the cold, slick texture of the lube. Then, with careful pressure, he began to ease his pinky finger inside, determined to keep his promise of taking it slow.
“I– mmpff!”
He eased his finger deeper, marvelling at the tight heat enveloping him. He traced delicate circles, massaging gently until the initial tension faded and a breathy moan escaped your lips.
“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed softly. Then, lowering his voice like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud, he added: “Can’t believe you’re letting me do this, sweetheart.”
He gently worked a second finger in alongside the first, pumping slowly. The wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of your tight ass filled the room, obscene and head spinning.
“I-It hurts, Eds.” You whimpered, but immediately shook your head when he asked if you wanted to stop.
Watching you respond to his touch, pretty and swollen pussy fully on display and leaking as it continued being ignored brought a heady rush of pride and possession to him — how could he not, when he was the first person you’d allowed to have you this way?
“A-ah!” You breathed out at the empty feeling as he slowly removed his fingers out of you. “E-Ed— F-fuck.”
“C’mon, sweetheart.” He gently tapped your hips twice with his slick digits. “Can you push yourself up your hands and knees for me?”
The request came softly, and you instantly complied by pushing your ass up higher for him. Slicking his fingers once more, he reverently traced your rim in lazy circles before slowly dipping his fingers back inside, testing a third one before pressing forwards just a fraction.
Your cheek rested flush against the mattress, eyelashes fluttering with every slippery, careful thrust he gave your tight hole.
Eddie watched your face intently, sinking in steadily, increments of progress marked by your hitched breaths and broken moans. The tight clutch you had around his digits was maddening, and Eddie had to resist the urge to immediately plunge deeper, harder. Instead, almost against his will, he rocked shallowly, letting you adjust to the stretch of the three, thick fingers he had in your ass as he patiently waited for your cue.
“P-please E-Eds,” you whimpered, desperately pushing your ass against his hand. “M-more.”
Eddie’s heartbeat quickened at your breathless plea. Slowly, he eased a fourth finger inside you, taking care to maintain a steady, slow rhythm. His free hand found the small of your back, gently rubbing circles against your skin when he felt you tense up at the stretch.
“Shhh, sweetheart,” he murmured distractedly, eyes completely fixed on the way you greedily sucked his fingers in. “It’s okay, I got you.”
You keened softly, hips canting back greedily for more when the sharp stretched dulled.
The lewd squelch of lube echoed obscenely, mingling with your panting breaths and hitching moans. Eddie felt completely drunk at the sight, fingers pumping faster and deeper, curling and twisting as he chased the perfect angle to send sparks dancing along your nerves. His other hand snaked around to circle your clit, stroking in time with his thrusts.
“That’s it, baby. Feel good, hm?”
“S-so, so good, Eds,” you moaned out, rolling your eyes to the back of your head.
The obscene wetness between your thighs dripped down to your bedsheets with each wet slide of his fingers making you writhe shamelessly, lost in the pleasure only he could offer you.
Eddie’s cock, desperate and ignored, basically wept as it begged for attention. A wet patch of pre-cum had long since stained his boxers, and it only continued to grow with each passing minute.
A chill ran down his spine at the thought of burying his aching cock deep in your ass, feel you clench and flutter apart around him while you screamed his name.
Eddie’s eyes were pulled away from your greedy hole, landing on your curling toes. A smug grin spread across his lips at the sight, and he made it his mission to make you come like this — completely on display and at his mercy.
“You close, sweetheart?”
“Mhmm!”
At your breathless response, Eddie doubled his efforts, fingers plunging relentlessly as his other palm ground against your swollen clit and fingertips dipped shallowly into your cunt. The dual stimulation proved too much and you came undone with a broken cry.
“F-fuck! Ed-Eddie!”
Eddie buried his face in your neck, muffling sweet nothings in your ear as hot pulses painted your inner thighs. After a moment, he peppered your temple with feather-light kisses, basking in your warmth.
“You’re so beautiful when you come for me,” he whispered.
“I…” You trailed off quietly, swiping your tongue across your dry bottom lip. “P-please, Eds.”
“Hm?” He pressed a lingering kiss against your shoulder and carefully coaxed his fingers out of you, stroking the small of your back when a string of broken whimpers fell out of your mouth. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay. I got you.”
Still catching your breath, you blinked dazedly up at him. The drunk look in your glimmering eyes raced a thrill down his spine at the thought of claiming you so thoroughly.
“P-please, Eds, need m-more,” you breathed out.
“Yeah? Sweet girl wants me to fuck her ass?” He cooed lowly, tracing soft circles at your hips as he pulled you closer to his still clothed cock.
“Y-yeah,” you nodded dumbly, mouth hanging open and drool dripping down on the bed beneath you. “W-want you to fuck my a-ass.”
With a low groan, Eddie reached for the bottle of lube once again, squeezing a generous amount of the sticky texture on your stretched hole before abandoning it somewhere beside you. He pushed himself off the bed and his boxers were pushed down his legs in a hurry, quickly forgotten as he threw it on the floor.
He pulled you closer by gripping your hips. Eddie slid his aching cock against your ass, spreading some of the lube against his length before he teased your slick opening with his mushroom tip. Heavy, calloused fingers dug into your hips, surging forward and sheathing himself slowly in small strokes.
“F-fuck! I-It burns,” you cried out, reaching a hand to stop him from moving.
Your hand twitched against his hip bone as you looked back at him with glossy eyes and furrowed eyebrows.
“J-Jesus,” he groaned out, accidentally rolling his hips despite your hand still trying to stop him. His eyes fluttered shut and his mouth hang low at the overwhelming feeling of your tight hole engulfing him. “Sorry, baby. I can’t help it, y-you’re so f-fucking tight.”
“Mmpff!”
Gulping down a dry lump, Eddie opened up his eyes and immediately looked down at where the two of you connected. His pink cock bordered on red, aching for more stimulation as only half of it had been pushed in. Slowly, after your hand had fallen away again, he rolled his hips backwards. His dark brown eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head at the sight of your ass gripping him, desperately trying to hold onto his cock, before he pushed back further into your greedy hole.
Eddie set a slow pace, hips moving back and forth in gradual thrusts until his hips are snapping urgently against the globes of your ass. The filthy slaps of his hairy balls against your dripping, neglected pussy and your broken moans spurred him on, driving him closer to the edge than he wanted.
“Yeah?” Eddie asked darkly, chest heaving at his relentless pace. “You like having my big cock in your ass, baby?”
“Y-yes! I l-love it!”
Captivated by your hopeless cries, Eddie redoubled his efforts, pounding into you with abandon. The lewd squelch of lube and your creaking bedframe filled the room, underscoring your desperate, broken moans.
The grip he had on your hips was bruising as he pistoned forwards, chasing his release. Eddie dragged a hand up your sweat-slicked spine, revelling in the goosebumps rising in its wake.
He leaned down, nuzzling in your neck and grazing his teeth against your tender skin.
“That’s it, baby,” he growled, punctuating each word with a sharp snap of his hips. “Come for me again.”
Eddie grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back until you had no choice but to push off the mattress. His chest was scalding hot against your back as he laved attention along your throat while his other hand snaked back down to your clit, desperate for your second orgasm to hit you so he could feel your ass clamp down on his cock.
“I-I’m coming, Eddie,” you breathed out hopelessly, tilting your head back against his shoulder and looking up at him with teary eyes and trembling lips. “P-please, d-don’t stop!”
With a hoarse cry, your orgasm crashed over you, muscles seizing as waves of ecstasy radiated outwards. The rhythmic clench of your tight hole nearly pushed Eddie over the edge as he pushed your face back into the mattress, holding you by the back of your head as he desperately chased his own release.
“J-Jesus, f-f-fuck!” he moaned out, orgasm ripping through him like wildfire.
He fell forwards, sinking his teeth into the crook of your neck as he gave you one last, particularly hard thrust. With a strangled groan, he hilted himself deep, pulsing hot spurts of his sticky cum in your ass.
Eddie collapsed on top of you, gasping for air amidst the trembling aftershocks. His teeth finally let go of the sensitive skin of your neck, replacing them with soft, lingering kisses instead.
“Sweetheart?” He called after a few minutes. “You still with me?”
As the haze started to clear, he strained to make out your unintelligible mumble. He held his breath, searching your face for clues.
“What?”
“I said,” you repeated tiredly, eyes fluttering shut as a small, satisfied smile tugged at your lips. “I think you just killed me.”
A quiet chuckle escaped Eddie at your tired declaration.
Pulling you closer against his chest, still buried deep inside your ass, Eddie rolled the two of you to your sides and pressed a tender kiss to your temple.
Closing his eyes, Eddie focused on slowing his breathing, quickly basking in the warmth of your skin against his while his mind continued reeling from the remnants of his dreams and everything that had unfolded since.
A soft groan escaped you as you turned your head back to look at him over your shoulder.
“Did you…” You hesitated for a moment. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Did I enjoy—” An almost disbelieving laugh escaped him as he dragged a hand through his messy hair. “Sweetheart, you just blew my fucking mind.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the wonder lingering in his voice.
“Really?”
Eddie looked at you like you’d asked the stupidest question imaginable.
“I don’t think I can just go back to fucking your pussy.”
The confession made your breath hitch before a comfortable silence settled between you. His dark brown eyes glimmered under the warm morning sunlight as they trailed across your face and down your naked, still intertwined bodies.
Then your stomach let out a loud, unmistakable growl, completely shattering the moment.
Eddie stared at you for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Don’t think it’s worth reheating the eggs.”
⋆˚꩜｡summary: what was supposed to be a simple one night stand has become significantly more complicated, and eddie going back on the road isn’t making things easier — and neither is the way you kneel for him
˚꩜｡tags/tw: explicit content, minors do not interact, no y/n, she/her reader, (very) slight angst, mutual pining, tour life, oral sex (m!receiving), (oral) sex in a semi public room, light degradation?, teasing, dirty talk (???), praise bc eddie is our good boy<3, needy eddie, slight dom/sub dynamics, brat tamer reader?, power play dynamics, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight humiliation kink undertones ig, cockwarming-adjacent teasing, cum play (kinda), abrupt ending (soz)
⋆˚꩜｡word count: 4.7k+
⋆˚꩜｡a/n: i wasn't actually planning on writing a part two for hollow crusade, but here we are loll written for my lovely @whitakerstorm thehee <3 btw there’s nothing minor about eddie’s dick, the note is just as dramatic as he is<3 // edit: i was gonna post this on friday but seeing iron maiden live tonight turned my brain to mush, hope y’all enjoy :)
The Brass Lantern had been painfully slow tonight.
A group of three college kids occupied a table in the far back, while Mike – who’d finally made it home earlier that day and had firmly refused to jump straight back into work – sat at the counter.
Meanwhile, you pretended you hadn’t already wiped down the wooden surface three or four times in the last thirty minutes.
You also pretended you weren’t constantly glancing over your shoulder at the clock hanging above the shelves of liquor, tracking the time as though you had somewhere important to be.
Because you didn’t; you hadn’t made any plans for tonight.
And you definitely weren’t expecting a certain grey-haired man to walk through the door.
Mike’s annoying green eyes followed your every movement – how you paced back and forth, dried glass that had already been dried, wiped down the same spot on the counter for a fifth time. He felt like he was watching a plane crash in slow motion.
“You know,” he said eventually, “if you scrub it any harder, you’re gonna take the varnish off.”
“I’m cleaning,” you huffed out before eventually tossing the rag over your shoulder.
“You’re hovering, kid,” he muttered behind the rim of his glass.
You rolled your eyes and reached for a clean glass before you snatched the whiskey bottle from Mike’s grip – owner privileges, or whatever he called it.
“This ain’t your bar,” he murmured as he snatched the bottle back before placing it far enough you wouldn’t reach without moving. “I’ve been back for eight hours and you’re already pissing me off.”
“Go back to Florida then, old man.”
Mike took another sip of his whiskey before glancing towards the entrance.
You could see the gears turning in his head.
“Don’t start,” you muttered as you pointed your glass at him.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking loud enough,” you pursed your lips.
One of the inebriated college kids raised their hand a little too excitedly to catch your attention before they motioned at their emptying glasses and slurred an can we have another round, please?
You clicked your tongue loud enough for them to hear, followed by a curt nod before you reached for three clean glasses. This was good – at least you had something to do for the next two minutes instead of being interrogated by your boss.
A country-rock song you’d never hear before crackled softly through the speakers overhead as you poured the drinks and set them on the tray before scribbling the order onto their bill. Mike watched as you moved beneath the warm amber light, disappearing around the counter and behind him as you made your way towards the three patrons.
You returned a few moments later, balancing a collection of dirty glasses on the tray while a deep frown settled between your eyebrows.
“You’re gonna scare our only customers with that face,” he muttered against the rim of his glass before pushing himself off the stool. “Go smoke, and please come back with a smile or something.”
“I fucking hate it when men tell me to smile,” you muttered, already reaching for your tattered pack of cigarettes before all but storming out of the bar.
The thick, humid Nashville air hit you before you’d even pushed the door all the way open.
The night hung heavy and wet – a black, starless sky smothered beneath low clouds. Thick grey masses pressed close overhead, swollen and breathless, as though the sky itself was holding its breath while stubbornly withholding the rain. The air felt annoyingly warm and oily against your skin, clinging to you and turning the streetlight overhead into a hazy, muted halo.
A deep sigh escaped you as you leaned against the brick wall and slid down until you were sitting on the sidewalk. The cigarette found its way between your lips almost automatically while you watched the white headlights of passing cars grow and shrink in the distance.
In between the dry, chemical tang of cigarette drags, you brought your thumb to your mouth. Your teeth worried at the loose skin around the nail for no reason other than the fact that you’d never been particularly good at sitting still.
You’d caught yourself doing that more often lately.
What had supposed to be a simple one-night stand three weeks ago had turned into a constant buzz beneath your skin. Stolen glances towards a half-working clock. Lingering looks from behind the counter. A stomach that flipped every time a certain grey-haired man walked through the door. Finding excuses to stay after closing, and missing him on nights he didn’t show up.
And now he was going back on the road at the end of the week.
Jesus Christ, get a grip.
Another sigh escaped you as you closed your eyes and let your head fall back against the brick wall behind you.
The heavy thud of boots against the sidewalk pulled you from your thoughts – just in time to stop yourself from spiralling outside your workplace.
“Hey, you.”
His warm, roughened voice reached you a second before he did.
Eddie’s grey curls seemed to have doubled in volume, frizzing wildly in the humidity.
So did his smile when your eyes finally found him.
“Hey,” you murmured quietly before taking one last drag from your cigarette and throwing it somewhere on the street without caring too much about it.
He let his gaze linger on your face for a moment longer than necessary. The smile tugging at his lips faltered for a brief second before he carefully crouched down beside you.
You reached for the tattered pack resting between your legs and pulled out another cigarette. Bringing it to your lips, you lit it without much thought.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just tired,” you mumbled as your gaze drifted away from the street and back to him.
Eddie’s eyes lingered on your side profile for a moment longer before he braced a hand against the ground and lowered himself beside you, completely ignoring the protest of his joints as he reached for you pack.
“Bullshit,” he murmured as he lit his cigarette.
“We’ve known each other for three weeks,” you muttered, a humourless laugh escaping you. “How would you know if I’m bullshitting or not?”
That made Eddie still beside you, his tattooed hand pausing mid-air between drags. His eyebrows pulled into a furrow as he blinked slowly at you.
“Where is this coming from?” he murmured as he brought the cigarette back to his lips.
Instead of answering right away, you exhaled and dragged a hand through your hair. You licked your lips and brought the cigarette back to your mouth for another long drag. The ember glowed warmly between your fingers as you stared across the nearly empty street.
Beside you, Eddie waited, his eyebrows still furrowed. Which somehow only made everything worse.
“You leave on Friday,” you muttered eventually, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose with your free hand before letting out another weary sigh.
Neither of you said anything for a few seconds. A car door slammed somewhere down the block, the sound echoing through the humid air and bouncing off the surrounding buildings.
“And that’s what’s got you sitting on the sidewalk looking like somebody kicked your dog?”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Maybe,” you admitted as a small, bitter smile tugged at your lips.
“Maybe?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.
“Don’t let it go to your head, Munson.”
You dragged a hand down your face as the words settled heavily between you.
“Y’know,” he started softly, flicking ash onto the pavement as his gaze drifted down the quiet street, “you could always tag along.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you muttered, scrunching your nose as you shook your head.
“I’m not,” he said, and turned back towards you.
“Yes, you are,” you sighed. You pinched the cigarette between your fingers and stared at the glowing ember for a moment. “You can’t just… say stuff like that like it’s the easiest thing in the world.”
You crushed the cigarette filter against the concrete with more force than necessary before flicking it into the street. Then, without another word, you rose to your feet.
Eddie’s eyes followed you immediately. He tilted his head back against the brick wall, curls dragging over the rough surface as he watched your expression. He immediately noticed the deep furrow between your eyebrows as you stared down at the ground, absentmindedly kicking at a discarded beer cap. After one last slow drag of his cigarette, he pushed himself to his feet.
He could practically hear the gears turning in your head.
“Don’t go there,” he murmured softly as he dropped his cigarette onto the sidewalk and crushed it beneath his boot.
“A little too late for that,” you replied wearily, your eyes still fixed on the ground.
Eddie stepped closer and rested his hands on your hips, pulling you gently towards him, and traced slow circles against the fabric of your shirt.
“This was supposed to be…” you trailed off and swallowed. “Easy and fun.”
A quiet breath escaped him as he continued the soothing motion of his thumbs.
Eddie couldn’t help noticing how you looked beneath the amber glow of the streetlights. Even now, when you refused to look at him, that stubborn furrow remained firmly planted between your eyebrows. Something warm stirred beneath his ribs when he felt his expression soften – a reaction that seemed to happen more and more often whenever he was around you.
“And now I feel like a fucking teenager throwing a tantrum.”
That earned a soft laugh from him, and his tattooed hands tightened around your hips ever so slightly.
“Trust me, sweetheart,” he murmured, tilting his head as he finally caught your eye. “I wasn’t exactly thrilled when I booked my flight, either.”
That finally made the furrow between your eyebrows soften.
“How long will you be gone?” you asked hesitantly.
“Two months,” he answered softly, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek.
“Jesus,” you glanced away for a second. “See? A fucking teenager throwing a tantrum.”
Eddie barked out a laugh at that – the kind that made him throw his head back and his stomach ache.
When the laughter finally died down, he looked at you again.
“The offer still stands,” he reminded you.
“I don’t have enough money to pay rent and book a flight,” you deadpanned.
He opened his mouth to reply, but you cut him off before he could get a word out.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“The answer is still no,” you murmured as a mischievous glimmer found its way to your eyes as you trailed your fingers over his chest and twisted his nipple.
“Ouch! What the hell?” Eddie yelped, loosening his grip on your cheek to smoothen the assault you’d just committed on him.
You shook your head, brushing imaginary lint from his shirt before leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.
“That was for trying to act like my sugar daddy instead of my–” the words died in your throat as warmth crept into your cheeks. “Whatever. I’m heading back.”
“Mike can hold down the fort for another few minutes, babe,” he murmured, catching your wrist when you tried to reach for the door. “You were saying?”
“I wasn’t saying anything,” you replied, deliberately ignoring the new glimmer in his eyes.
“I’m pretty sure you were about to call me your boyfriend,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips.
“You’re too old to be called a boyfriend.”
“Manfriend isn’t a thing, babe,” he laughed. “But sure. Manfriend, boyfriend – I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”
You shook your head as you tried – and failed miserably – to keep a smile from tugging at your lips.
“I want you to be less annoying,” you replied, though the way the corners of your mouth curled made it clear you didn’t mean a word of it, “and let me get back to work.”
Eddie’s gaze flickered towards the large window of The Brass Lantern, catching Mike scratching absently at his head before he looked back at you. He squinted and pursed his lips, pretending to consider your request for a moment.
“Can’t do that,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold. Being a rockstar, and all that.”
“Should I call TMZ?” you raised an eyebrow. “’Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson harasses woman half his age’.”
“Nah,” a grin tugged at his lips. “’Eddie Munson harasses his girlfriend.”
Eddie’s grin widened as he watched you open your mouth, only to close it again, and your widened eyes blinking helplessly at him.
“You know what?” you said after a moment, not giving him a chance to reply. “Can’t wait for you to be gone. You’re too annoying.”
His eyebrows shot up at your words.
“Wow, okay,” he said, nodding sarcastically. “You’re gonna pay for that.”
Before you could react, he let go of your hips and immediately dug his fingers into your sides. Broken laughter escaped you as you tried to twist away from him, nearly doubling over when he chased the movement and found the spot beneath your ribs.
The wooden door creaked open behind you, but neither of you seemed to notice.
“I don’t pay you to flirt with my customers, kid,” Mike muttered, forcing his lips into a disapproving line.
Eddie’s head whipped over his shoulder at the sound of his voice, his hands immediately stilling against your sides.
“And you, asshole,” Mike continued, pointing at him, “are you buying me a welcome-home drink or not?”
The backstage pass hung heavier from your neck than it should have.
You turned the laminated card over between your fingers – fresh homemade manicure glistening under the passing street lights – for what had to be the tenth time before you finally stepped out of the cab.
CORRODED COFFIN – ALL ACCESS.
The words still looked ridiculous, no matter how many times you read them again.
Three weeks ago, you’d been serving whiskey to a tired man at the end of the bar. Now you were standing behind an arena in Nashville while stagehands wheeled road cases twice your size past you.
You followed a buff, bald guy – who was far nicer than he looked like – through the endless maze-like hallways until the two of you stopped in front of a white door. It would’ve been just another unassuming door if it wasn’t for the laminated piece of paper that read CORRODED COFFIN: PLEASE LET THESE MAN IN, along with a picture of each member. Because apparently, even at their grown age, they still lost their credentials frequently.
The bald crew member knocked twice before pushing the door open. Noise spilled into the hallway instantly – not music, or shouting, just light conversations. The kind that happened when people had known each other for decades. He stepped aside and motioned for you to go in.
Eddie looked up from where he sat, a cigarette in one hand and a can of beer in the other. His expression instantly softened the moment his eyes found you.
He passed his beer to Gareth and crushed the half-smoked cigarette before he pushed himself off the couch and stepped closer. His hands immediately found their favourite spot, pulling you closer by your hips to greet you with a soft kiss.
“There you are,” he murmured when he pulled away.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been anxiously waiting for me,” you replied sarcastically, although the look you gave him was far sweeter than you’d intended.
“Oh, he has,” Gareth murmured teasingly, tipping Eddie’s can back for a sip. “It was getting kinda annoying, if I can be honest.”
“Shut up,” Eddie muttered over his shoulder, though his voice didn’t sound nearly as annoyed as he’d hoped.
Gareth didn’t bother replying. Instead, he simply grinned into the beer can while Jeff – the little shit – immediately burst out laughing.
Eddie’s hands tightened ever so slightly around your hips, his smile softening as his eyes lingered on your face.
For a moment, the noise of the green room seemed to fade into the background.
Until Gareth ruined it again.
“Jesus Christ, look at him,” he groaned dramatically. “He looks like a fucking teenager in love.”
Eddie rolled his eyes, and pointed towards the door behind you. “Scram.”
The drummer barked out a laugh and pushed himself off the couch in search of another beer.
“C’mon, Jeff,” he said, sounding far too pleased with himself while he opened his new can. “Let’s give the lovebirds some time alone.”
Jeff merely shook his head, his grin still firmly in place as he murmured a low hi towards you and followed Gareth out of the green room, pulling the door shut behind him.
Eddie had spent more than twenty years in rooms exactly like this one.
Corroded Coffin had performed in the best of halls, the worst of halls, and everything in between. And, surprisingly, the backstage areas never differed all that much, no matter where. Obviously, some were bigger and fancier than others, and had much more luxurious trappings – but they all served the exact same purpose.
Despite being the vocalist of the band, Eddie had never really felt the need to have his very own dressing room like a lot of other iconic frontmen had.
The green rooms the three men shared were always alarmingly simple – unlike what some people might expect. They were always clean, everything always worked – light bulbs, all the faucets, urinals, showers – and there were always too many mirrors around that somehow never failed Eddie to feel like he was relaxing in a nightclub or a very cheap motel.
Despite the big crew running around, the numerous road cases being pushed up and down, and the uncontrollable chaos of tangled calm professionalism and last-minute intensity that repeated itself every single time they played, he always saw backstage as a place of meditation, reflection and, most importantly, self-scrutiny.
Because, even after all those years, he still got nervous about screwing up in front of thousands of people. Tonight, however, his nerves had very little to do with the show itself. And now you stood in front of him, backstage at Nissan Stadium, and every annoying voice in the back of his head suddenly fell quiet.
The green room – which, ironically, was painted a deep red – didn’t feel nearly as suffocating as it had two hours earlier when he’d arrived far sooner than necessary.
Eddie leaned down and captured your lips again, taking advantage of the fact that he no longer had an audience. The kiss was slow and familiar, comfortable. His thumb brushed absentmindedly against your hip as he pulled you a little closer, and a quiet breath escaped you when he finally pulled away.
“How long until you go up there?” you murmured against his lips.
“Fifteen minutes, give or take,” he replied, glancing towards the clock ticking above the door.
“That’s all I need.”
Eddie pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression going completely blank for a second as though you’d somehow managed to short-circuit his brain with four simple words.
“What?”
He blinked rapidly, the meaning finally catching up to him.
You only licked your lips, a mischievous glimmer settling in your eyes. Gently pulling his hands away from your hips, you sank onto your knees and looked up at him.
He wore a black three-quarter-sleeved shirt, tattoos peaking out, stretched across his chest and hugging his arms a little too well for your liking, paired with the same jeans he’d worn yesterday when he’d come by your place. The silver chains hanging from his belt loops and the faded red bandana tucked into his back pocket had become as much a part of Corroded Coffin’s image as the music itself. His grey hair, usually frizzy from humidity and lazy neglect, had been coaxed into perfect curls by someone on his team sometime earlier that evening.
Needless to say, he looked really fucking good as he stood tall above you.
His fingers immediately flew to your hands when you reached for his zipper, stilling your movements as he swallowed a dry lump.
“Wait–” he breathed out, chest already heaving up and down despite the fact you hadn’t done anything just yet. “Bath– Let’s go to the bathroom.”
“No,” you said firm and curtly, and slapped his hand away. “I want you facing the door while I blow you.”
“But–” he cut himself off when he felt you tug down his zipper. He licked his lips with a nervous swipe of his tongue and dragged a hand through his hair. “W-what if they walk in?”
“Not my problem,” you muttered. “You’re the one facing the door, not me.”
You curled your fingers around the elastic band of his boxers, and pulled it down just enough for the fabric to sit tightly under his balls. Slowly trailing your gaze from his pretty cock towards his, you were met with warm, rosy cheeks and helpless blinking eyes staring back.
A large glob of spit fell from your mouth while you kept your eyes glued on his. Eddie twitched when you curled your fingers around his girthy length, spreading the sticky spit up and down. Then, with torturously slow precision, you pulled your mouth open and flicked your tongue against his slit before you wrapped your lips around his aching tip, softly sucking.
Eddie’s hand immediately found the back of your head, heavy rings coiling around your hair as his nails dug into your scalp.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned out, closing his eyes and throwing his head back as his grip on your hair tightened.
But then you mmediately pulled back in one abrupt movement, letting his hard cock slap against his shirt. A broken groan fell from his lips, followed by whimper-y no, no, no’s.
“Keep your eyes on me when I blow you,” you grumbled curtly.
Eddie let go of your hair and dragged his hand through his own, eyes still tightly shut as he bit his lips before he finally found your gaze again.
“S-sorry.”
He felt hot and heavy to the touch when you wrapped your fingers around his dick once again, flicking your wrist in an agonizingly slow pace.
“P-please,” he whimpered, blinking rapidly. “I-I’ll be good. Promise.”
“You do that again and I’ll leave you like this for the whole stadium to see,” you murmured firmly and tilted your head to the side. “Understood?”
A cold shiver ran down his spine as your words reached him. Then, he gave you a soft nod before he bobbed his head up and down in desperation, a soft understood falling from his lips.
His balls, so big and full, and pretty with the white fuzzy hairs coating them, drooped low for you. He begged and gazed down at you with molten brown eyes. Your eyelashes glistened under the warm amber glow of the lights overhead, sweeping your tongue against his slit.
Eddie’s free hand cradled your cheek, warm rings kissing your skin, while his other hand worried at your hair – tugging harshly at your strand, smoothing it down, and repeating the process all over again.
“Jesus,” he choked out, eyebrows furrowed and mouth hanging low.
You pushed down, all the way onto the girthy base until the tip of your nose dipped into the coarse, greying hairs. A broken moan escaped him when he felt your throat flutter around him, drops of spit mixed with pre-cum rolling down the corners of your mouth as you kept him deep in the back of your gummy walls. You spluttered and choked, relishing the way his heavy cock slid in and out of your mouth.
Releasing him, you spit onto his veiny length and slid your hand up and down while you tried to catch your breath. You trailed slick, open-mouthed kisses down his cock until you reached his fuzzy balls. Just like you’d told him to, Eddie kept his eyes glued on you – the way you moved your hand, the way you swirled your tongue against his silky skin, licking fat stripe after fat stripe.
“You taste so good, Eds,” you whispered against him, and trailed kisses where your hand can’t curl around until your lips engulfed his tip for a harsh suck. “I love taking you in my mouth, baby.”
Eddie panted heavily, stroking your face with his trembling hand as broken whimpers continued falling from his plush lips. A shiver ran down his spine when you snaked your free hand under his shirt, soft fingertips threading through the strip of hair that trailed down from his navel to the base of his twitching cock.
You claim him with every suck, every flick of your slick tongue, every shove of his dick all the way to the back of your constricting throat until he bottomed out. His fuzzy balls, heavy with the warm, sticky cum that made your head spin, staggered into your face, slapping against your chin.
“Baby, I-I’m–” he cuts himself off when he comes with a grovelling moan down your throat, bucking desperately into your mouth as he tries his best to keep his eyes on you instead of shutting them closed. “Fuckfuckfuck.”
Eddie’s nails dug in your scalp as he held you there, giving you no choice but to gag around him and take every last drop he had to offer.
When you pulled your mouth off of him, the grip he had on your hair tightened as he pulled you up for a kiss. A muffled groan slipped from him when you parted your lips, pushing his come into his mouth as you brushed your slick tongue against his. You still had a hand curled around his length, refusing to let go of him just yet.
Breaking the kiss, you pulled back just enough for your eyes to trail down his rosy cheeks and molten eyes. With your free hand, you pulled the hem of your skirt up just a bit. Giving his cock a soft tug and ignoring the broken, oversensitive whimpers that fell from him and angled your hips just right – just enough for his twitching cock to slide between your slick folds, coating him in your sticky wetness.
“You feel what you do to me?” you whispered against his lips before pulling him in for another kiss.
“Fuck,” he breathed out, eyebrows pulling into a deep furrow. “Are y– Fuck. Are you not wearing anything under your skirt?”
“Why would I?” You licked your lips, a mischievous glimmer settling in your gaze. “Easier for you to have your way with me after the show, hm?”
His breath hitched in his throat while his teeth worried at his lower lip, cock twitching and painting your clit with the last few drops of cum that spilled from his slit.
You kept your eyes on Eddie’s as you licked your lips and slowly leaned in for another kiss. His free hand found your waist, pulling you closer until you were pressed flush against his chest, while he desperately rolled his hips for more friction.
For a moment, he kissed you back without hesitation, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against your side as he tasted himself on your tongue, muffled groans spilling from his mouth and into yours.
But just as his ringed hand began to wander towards your ass, a series of hard knocks rattled the door and echoed through the otherwise quiet green room.
“You done fucking your girl, Munson?” Gareth asked from the other side. “We’re late!”
He groaned against your lips, unable to pull away just yet – not when you continued sliding your messy folds along his still hard dick. With one last kiss to his swollen lips, you softly pushed him away, pulled your skirt back down and swiped the corners of your mouth with your thumb.
And then you turned around, barely giving him time to compose himself, and grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door open. You shot Gareth and Jeff a sweet smile before brushing past them without a word.
Gareth’s eyes followed you – more composed than he’d expected – for a moment before drifting back to Eddie. The clank of his buckle cut the silence between the three of them while Gareth’s gaze trailed over his pink cheeks, swollen lips and the unmistakably dazed look that refused to leave his eyes.
“Dude,” he breathed out, unable to suppress a laugh. “She’s dangerous.”
Eddie ignored him and simply pulled his zipper up while he brushed past them and walked down the hall, looking for the stagehand that had his earpiece.
⋆˚꩜｡pairing: late40s!rockstar!eddie x 20s!fem!reader
⋆˚꩜｡summary: Eddie has three blissful weeks before Corroded Coffin heads back on the road to finish their world tour. Then one drink at his favourite bar turns into an unexpected night with a woman half his age - and a confrontation with a need he never knew he had.
⋆˚꩜｡tags/tw: minors do not interact (i'm serious, piss off) no y/n, she/her reader, older!eddie, rockstar!eddie, big age gap, emotionally repressed eddie?? kinda??, alcohol use, tobacco use, sexual tension, kinda slow burn, porn a plot (but it goes from 0 to 100 real quick), confident!reader, power imbalance themes (fame/wealth/age difference), suggestive dialogue, explicit sexual content, oral sex (f!receiving, m!receiving), fingering (blink and you'll miss it), playful teasing, subby eddie? but not in a mommy way, eddie is down bad for us (as he should), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it guys!), uhh lemme know if i missed anything?
⋆˚꩜｡wordcount: 12k+
⋆˚꩜｡a/n: listen, i don't even know wtf happened when i was writing this. i'm not even really into sub!eddie but oh well, lol. also eddie already has grey/white hair because i said so (it happened early okay? but not specified) (i'm not entirely sure about this header, especially because i tried to photoshop an older eddie but idk if it looks good lol) anyway i uh hope this is somewhat readable, lemme know watcha think!
The Corroded Coffin boys – or men, these days, after spending more than twenty years becoming legends and living with everything that comes with it – are a little more than halfway through their 2025-2026 The Oxblood Nomads world tour.
After fifty-eight shows in Europe, nine shows in Asia, and thirteen shows in South America, the three-man band have finally arrived back on US soil – much to Eddie’s satisfaction. Especially after a ten hour flight from São Paulo to Atlanta – of all fucking places for a layover – and another hour and a half flight to Nashville.
They were finally home, and had three blissful weeks to enjoy it before they went back on the road for the last leg of their tour.
Despite the many hours spent flying home, Eddie is desperate to stretch his legs and walk around town after finally dropping his suitcases by the front door – the jumbled cables and dirty laundry were a problem for Future Eddie. He probably smelled a little funky, not having had a proper shower in longer than he cared to admit – but what he desperately needed right now was a drink at his favourite bar.
The amber glow of the streetlights spread softly across the few white strands spread through his dark grey curls and the tattoos scattered along his arms – ink that had once been black, now softened to a faded blue. Every time he lifted the cigarette back to his mouth, the brief flare of its ember painted the years across his features in a warm orange light.
It was a little after eleven, and the air still felt warm and thick with humidity to the point that a bead of sweat rolled down his spine. The black, starry sky above made the growing neon sign of The Brass Lantern glow more vividly with every step he took towards the bar.
It’s mostly empty when he stomped on his cigarette and finally pushed the door open – not because it wasn’t popular, but because it was tucked away from the more tourist-heavy streets. Only one person sat along the bar, while a couple occupied a table near the big windows.
The Brass Lantern was the kind of place where nobody asked too many questions, and nobody particularly cared who you were when you walked through the door – and that’s exactly why it was his favourite bar in the entire city. Because after days of being the Eddie fucking Munson – the untouchable frontman of Corroded Coffin, the guy whose face ended up on magazine covers and concert posters – he just wanted to be another tired forty-seven year old man, and enjoy a drink at the end of a very long day.
No one looked up when he walked in – just the way he liked it.
That is one of the many beauties of Nashville – nobody looked twice at someone carrying a guitar case through the city, or shoved their phones in world-wide known musicians. People still recognised him wherever he went, obviously – Corroded Coffin was far too big for that to ever stop – but local fans were different from the ones in Los Angeles. Here, they offered small smiles and respectful nods, maybe the occasional wave from across a restaurant or bar.
As soon as Eddie settled onto a stool at the far end of the bar – ignoring the faint protest of his knees and lower back – he noticed someone new behind the counter instead of Mike, the owner-turned-friend, but didn’t think much of it when they asked what his poison was.
“Whiskey,” he said automatically, rubbing at his eyes. “Whatever’s easiest.”
You simply nodded in response, even though he wasn’t looking at you, and reached for a bottle without another question.
Eddie let out a quiet sigh as he settled more comfortably against the worn wood of the counter, rolling one shoulder until something popped. Jesus H. Christ. Almost a year and a half on the road and somehow his body always chose the very first night back home to remind him that he’s not twenty anymore.
“Welcome back,” you murmured as you put down the glass in front of him a moment later.
His hand paused halfway towards it as he looked up at you.
It took him a second too long to look away. Not because you are pretty – though you are – but because you looked completely at home behind the counter, like you’d been working there for years instead of filling in for Mike.
Twenty-three. Maybe twenty-four, at the most.
Young enough that you probably hadn’t even been fucking born when Corroded Coffin released its first album.
Eddie took a long drink of his whiskey.
You picked up another glass and continued polishing, completely unfazed by the fact that you’d recognised him.
No excitement, no gawking. Not even a carefully disguised attempt to mention one of his records. If anything, you seemed more interested in the glass in your hands than the man who’d spent the last twenty years plastered across magazine covers.
For some reason, Eddie found that far more distracting than he should.
“Sorry?” he breathed out, dragging himself back from wherever his thoughts had wandered off to.
“Mike mentioned about you touring?” you asked back, although it didn’t really sound like a question, and poured yourself a splash of whiskey too.
That caught him more off guard than the recognition itself. Most people know him because of the band – you apparently know him because he’s a regular.
“That’s a little concerning,” he laughed before he could stop it, eyes flickering down to his glass. “Mike talks about me behind my back?”
“If you know who I’m talking about, then you know he talks about everybody behind their backs.”
That pulled a tired laugh from him. “Yeah, fair point.”
While you reached for his glass before he could take another sip, your fingers brushed his as you lifted it just enough to slide a coaster underneath it.
That’s what pulled his eyes up towards you, and for the first time, he got a proper look — beyond your youthful face. It wasn’t because you’re flirting with him, or because you were trying to get his attention. If anything, it was the opposite.
You carried yourself with the easy confidence of somebody who had absolutely nothing to prove. No careful smiles, no subtle attempts to impress him.
Somehow, that’s what made him look twice.
The grip he had on his glass tightened just a fraction before it loosened again.
“So, where’s Mike anyway?”
“Florida,” you explained before taking a sip of your own glass. “Family vacation.”
“Voluntarily?”
A soft laugh escaped you. “That’s what I said.”
Eddie laughed into his glass before taking another sip.
When you drifted away to help another customer, he caught himself watching you for a second too long before dragging his attention back to the whiskey in front of him. The burn settled warmly in his chest, and he told himself that was all he was paying attention to.
Not the way you moved effortlessly between customers, or the fact that you seemed to know all of them by name despite the fact he’d never seen you behind the bar before tonight.
And definitely not the way he kept finding you again every time he looked up.
His tattooed fingers drummer against the side of his glass as he glanced up at the speakers hanging above the shelves.
“You keep looking at me like you wanna say something,” you said when you came back for your glass. “So, spill.”
“Maybe I’m trying to figure out who you are,” he replied, and peered at you over the rim of his glass as a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The smile you sent him was openly sceptical. “That sounds ominous.”
Eddie shook his head, and a huffed out laugh followed.
“I’m gone for a year and a half, Mike suddenly disappeared to fucking Florida, and now you’re here.”
“So, besides being a world-famous musician, you’re also a profiler?” you asked, pointing at yourself.
“I’m, uh…” he swirled the whiskey in his glass, trying to buy himself a second. “Doing research.”
“Doing research,” you echoed, and narrowed your eyes at him. The suspicion didn’t quite land with the smile that pulled at your lips. “That’s a fancy way of saying you’re interested in me.”
Eddie opened his mouth, only to close it again. He pursed his lips, trying to suppress a smile from taking over his face, and his eyes fell back on the glass in his hand.
“Well,” is all he muttered into his whiskey, his eyes back on you again.
“That’s not a denial,” you hummed.
“Didn’t say it was.”
His gaze lingered a little longer than it should have.
It would’ve been easy enough to leave things exactly as they were – a drink, flirtatious banter, a familiar bar on his first night home. Simple and safe.
It wasn’t the first time someone had approached him because they’d recognised him. Hell, it probably wasn’t even the first time that month. Most people either tried too hard to impress him or expected him to impress them.
You hadn’t done either.
You’d recognised him, sure. But since then, you’d spent more time teasing him than talking about the band. You hadn’t asked for a picture, or brought up your favourite album – if you were even a fan – or looked at him like he was something separate from everybody else in the room.
If anything, you seemed completely uninterested in the fact that he was supposed to be impressive.
For reasons he didn’t particularly care to examine, Eddie found that difficult to ignore.
He took one last sip of whiskey before setting the empty glass back on its coaster.
You smiled at him while you automatically reached for the bottle of whiskey you still hadn’t put away to pour him another dose, even though he hadn’t actually asked for it, and then poured yourself a little more.
After you’d put the bottle between the two of you, you grabbed your pack of cigarettes beneath the counter, and held it up to him.
“You have the face of a man who could use a cigarette,” you joked softly after you’d seen the yellowing stain on his fingers.
“Oh, do I?” he grinned against the rim of his glass.
“Or maybe I’m trying to come up with an excuse to get you alone,” you shrugged with a raised eyebrow, already taking steps backwards and making your way around the counter and towards the door.
Eddie stayed seated for another second or two, ringed fingers curled around his glass as he let your words sink in.
The smartest thing to do would be to leave the flirtation for what it was – just a few fun exchanged words – and not follow you outside. Not when the age gap between you was almost as big as his career.
But Eddie Munson had never really been known for being a smart man – considering he had failed his senior year of high school not once or twice, but three times, or that one time he tried fixing his lighting switch only for his entire home to nearly catch fire.
And so he downed his whiskey, threw his head back, and set the empty glass onto its coaster with a sharp thud. His throat burned slightly as he stood up from his seat and followed you outside.
The humid air hit you the second you stepped outside, while the door swung back and forth lazily behind you before it finally settled shut. Then it creaked once again as Eddie walked through it.
His eyes found you in an instant, warm amber light spilling from the fixture above the entrance and over your face. You flipped your cigarette pack and pulled out two before he could reach for his own. His gaze flickered between your face and the cigarettes in front of him before he finally took one, his free hand already pulling the battered silver Zippo from his pocket to light them both.
The flame briefly illuminated your face as you leaned forwards. In the flicker of bright orange light, you looked even younger than he’d originally guessed.
Yet he couldn’t bring himself to look away this time.
But he ended up doing it anyway, when the first drag nearly killed him.
“Jesus Christ,” he coughed. “What’s this?”
You winced at the sight in front of you before a laugh escaped you when you saw him pull a face. Despite the fact that his lungs nearly gave out on him with the first drag he took, he dared to take another one.
“Gauloises Blue,” you murmured back as you leaned against the brick wall. “French, I think.”
“Of course it is.”
Eddie turned the cigarette between his fingers, and watched the paper already yellowing beneath the burn.
Somewhere along the way, he’d become the kind of man that noticed cigarette brands. Twenty-year-old Eddie would’ve smoked whatever he could afford; forty-seven-year old Eddie apparently had opinions.
“So,” he said, exhaling smoke into the humid night air. “How long have you worked for Mike?”
“Six months, give or take,” you answered between drags. “But that wasn’t the actual question you wanted to ask, was it?”
He glanced down the street while a chuckle escaped him, followed by a lick at his lips. The city looked exactly the same as it had sixteen months ago. The same cracked sidewalks, the same neon signs, the same godforsaken humidity sticking to the back of his neck.
He’d spent the last months surrounded by people – managers, promoters, journalists, fans – yet somehow, the most interesting thing he’d experienced all year was happening outside a bar with a woman who kept making fun of him.
Eddie shook his head. Fair enough, the conversation had been heading there anyway.
A group of drunk college students stumbled past the two of you, hollering and laughing without a care in the world. One of them had a it’s my 21st birthday! sash across her frame. The two of you fell silent for a few seconds, your gazes following the five girls until they disappeared somewhere around the block.
Eddie stretched his neck and winced when something cracked loudly; the flight seemed to have settled into every muscle and bone in his body. Another fucking reminder that he wasn’t twenty anymore.
“No, it wasn’t,” he said eventually, and finally glanced back at you.
The smile you gave him was warm and knowing when you raised your eyebrows and gave him a single nod, signalling for him to go on.
“Alright, how old are you?”
“Twenty-two,” you said after blowing away the trapped smoke in your lungs.
Twenty-fucking-two.
The number settled somewhere in the back of his mind. It didn’t shock him, not really; if anything, it confirmed what he’d already suspected.
Still, Jesus Christ, he’d been touring internationally long before you were even born.
Eddie’s eyes caught on the chipped polish coating your nails, the amber light overhead reflecting softly against it before his gaze drifted back up to your face.
“Stop making that face,” you pointed your cigarette at him and chuckled.
“I’m not making a face,” he muttered under his breath as he flicked ash onto the pavement before he took another drag.
“You absolutely are,” you said with a smile.
He looked away for just a moment, shaking his head and licking his lips before he blew the smoke into the night air.
The laugh that escaped you was soft and easy.
The amber glow of the streetlamp caught in your eyes as your attention suddenly shifted towards the window. A patron tapped gently against the glass until they caught your attention, and lifted their empty glass for you to see.
“Duty calls,” you said with your eyebrows pulled in a slight furrow, turning just in time to catch his gaze lingering on you for a few seconds too long.
Eddie dropped his cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath the sole of his boot before he reached for the door. He pulled it open, stepping aside to let you pass first.
The scent of cigarette smoke followed you through the doorway, mixing briefly with something sweeter before it disappeared into the warm glow of the bar.
He lingered outside for half a second longer than necessary, watching you weave behind the counter before he caught himself.
Christ.
One conversation and somehow he’d already started tracking your movements every time you left his line of sight.
The rest of the night slipped by easier than Eddie had expected as a second whiskey turned into a third, and then a fourth.
The bar emptied, filled, then emptied again. Conversations came and went, and every now and then he caught himself looking for you while you dried glasses and sent the last few patrons on their way with a smile and a goodnight.
The neon sign that hung outside had been switched off twenty minutes ago. The blinds had followed shortly after. Half the chairs now sat upside down on freshly wiped tables while you were stationed at the end of the counter, expertly sorting through a stack of crumpled bills as you counted tonight's tips.
Yet somehow, Eddie still nursed the last inch of whiskey in his glass.
"Just throw me out if you're tired of me," he murmured from behind the rim.
You didn't answer immediately. Your lips moved silently as you counted beneath your breath, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. He watched you crouch down and somehow produce a purse from beneath the counter. The zipper slid open before you tucked the bills safely inside.
"Nah, it's okay," you said at last, glancing up as the corners of your mouth twitched. "I actually enjoy your company."
Something in Eddie's chest shifted in a way he didn't entirely care for at how much he liked hearing that.
Once the money was put away, you rolled your shoulders before reaching behind yourself to loosen the strings of your apron. A quiet sigh slipped from your lips as the beer-scented fabric landed on the counter while your free hand automatically reached for the whiskey bottle.
You stopped halfway through pouring before walking over to him instead and, without asking, took the seat next to him and topped off his drink before filling your own.
Eddie raised an eyebrow—you'd just poured yourself considerably more than the usual two fingers.
His gaze drifted from the amber liquid to your face. The shadows beneath your eyes were more noticeable now. The energy you'd carried all evening hadn't disappeared, but it had begun fraying around the edges.
"Long day?"
"Ugh, you don't wanna know," you mumbled, glancing towards the clock that hung above the shelves. "Twelve-hour shift, no breaks."
"Yeah," he said quietly as he winced in sympathy. "That'll do it."
His ringed fingers curled around his glass, swirling the amber liquid absentmindedly.
"No breaks?" He furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at you. "Have you eaten anything?"
The way you hesitated for just a second was answer enough. Your hand stilled halfway to your mouth, the glass suspended between your fingers.
"Yeah, of course," you muttered finally.
A chuckle escaped him before silence settled between you.
Then he tilted his head towards you and jokingly narrowed his eyes, and you immediately knew what was coming.
"Oh, c'mon," you groaned. "I'm fine."
"And that's not what I asked."
"No," you confessed after a muffled sigh escaped you, dramatically dropping your forehead against the counter. "I was busy."
Eddie hummed and looked entirely too pleased with himself when you lifted your head just enough to shoot him a deep glare.
"There's probably still a diner open."
You glanced towards the dark windows. Amber streetlights spilled through the blinds while the occasional set of headlights drifted past outside.
"I'm too tired to sit in a diner and be friendly to waitresses."
"Fair," he nodded, his light curls bouncing with the movement before he took another sip of his glass. "I've got frozen pizza at home."
The words left his mouth without thinking, and he immediately regretted them. His eyes falling shut while his free hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"That sounded significantly less weird in my head."
Your lips twitched as silence settled between the two of you.
"Don't," Eddie pointed a finger at you without opening his eyes.
A laugh slipped out while you turned on the stool to face him. "I didn't even say anything."
"You were about to," he said accusingly.
"Oh, absolutely."
You curled your fingers around your glass, the rings around them glimmering beneath the soft amber lights overhead, while you tried – and failed – not to smile.
"You know, that's the worst pickup line I've ever gotten."
"It wasn't a pickup line."
"Good," you smiled against the rim of your glass.
Eddie opened his eyes, but the furrow between his eyebrows stayed. Not because he was still cringing at the accidental invitation, but because the answer came a little too quickly.
Good.
He wasn’t entirely sure why that answer had stuck with him.
The joke should’ve ended there.
Instead, he spent the next few seconds wondering what would’ve happened if it had been a pickup line after all.
When he finally lifted his gaze from his glass, he found you already looking at him.
Your lips were pulled into a smile – small and suspicious, like you were trying very hard not to let it grow any wider – and the exhaustion that had been lingering in your eyes all evening had given way to something else.
Something he couldn't quite place, but that made his stomach do an annoying little flip anyway.
Then you wetted your lips and took another sip of whiskey, hiding whatever thought had been threatening to surface behind the rim of your glass.
Your gaze dropped to the counter for a split second before finding his again.
"You got any whiskey to go with that frozen pizza?"
Eddie blinked as your words registered. Well, that wasn't exactly the answer he'd been expecting. A laugh rumbled low in his chest as he shook his head, sending a few grey curls shifting around his face.
"You're trying to invite yourself over, sweetheart?"
"Depends," you smiled behind the rim of your glass.
Eddie's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "On what?"
A breathless chuckle escaped you before you could stop it, and you dragged a hand through your hair.
"If you got any aged whiskey," you said before drowning the rest of your drink in one go and setting the empty glass back onto its coaster. "It's the only way I like it."
Eddie's eyebrows rose slightly as he stared at you for a moment longer, then he laughed again.
"Jesus," he licked his lips absentmindedly, though the smile never quite left his face. "You're twenty-two. What do you know about aged whiskey?"
"You forget I work at a bar." You glanced towards the cluttered shelves lined with bottles and pointed in their direction. "I also know where Mike hides the good stuff."
"That sounds suspiciously like a confession."
Eddie watched the corners of your mouth twitch upwards before you jumped off the stool. His gaze followed you as you made your way back behind the counter and reached for another bottle.
"I'm not really the type to kneel and confess," you murmured.
Your eyes flicked up to his for half a second before dropping back to the glass as amber liquid spilled into it.
"But I'll do it occasionally," you continued lightly, giving your lips another twitch when your gaze found his again, "depending on the sin."
Whatever composure he had faltered ever so slightly.
"Jesus Christ," he said as he set his glass back down on its coaster. "You say shit like that on purpose?"
He reached for the bottle sitting between the two of you and poured himself half a glass.
"Only when I'm having a good time." A grin tugged at your lips as you brought the glass to your mouth.
Your smile grew even wider behind the rim while your gaze lingered on his face.
The few white strands scattered through his dark grey curls caught the amber glow overhead, and the faint crow's feet beside his eyes deepened as a smile spread across his face. For the first time all evening, he looked less like a tired rockstar and more like a man who knew he was about to have a good night.
"Looks like you're having a good time, too."
"Yeah," he murmured, gaze glued to yours, before downing the last of his drink. "I am."
“Good,” you murmured back.
After nearly thirty minutes of walking under amber light and starry skies, talking about music – he couldn’t help himself, it was his passion – and shared cigarette smoke, the two of you finally stood in front of his house.
It wasn’t a gated mansion like you’d expected from a man who’d sold millions of records, but it wasn’t really a humble home either.
Moonlight filtered through a canopy of leaves, spilling across the warm, wood-clad home. The low roof and wide eaves created a sheltered porch where potted succulents and terracotta bowls gathered like old friends. It felt more like a quietly cared-for refuge than the home of the lead vocalist of a heavy metal band.
The grip you had on the strap of your bag tightened just slightly when his hand found the small of your back once he finally unlocked the door. He let go of you for a brief moment, pushing the door closed behind him and kicking off his boots once he’d stepped onto the red-ceramic tiled floor of the entryway.
“Huh,” you said under your breath, eyes lingering on the scattered picture frames across the white walls while he walked ahead and turned on the living room lights.
“Not what you expected?” he joked over his shoulder as he walked further into the space.
“Not really, no,” you muttered as you mimicked him and took off your shoes before you followed him through the room. “I expected something more… dramatic.”
Eddie barked a laugh as soon as the words left your mouth.
“Believe me, I’ve tried the whole mansion thing,” he murmured as he walked into the open kitchen and disappeared into a pantry. “Turns out I don’t like too much empty space.”
The polished wooden floors were cold, even under your socked feet, as you stood in the middle of the living room, slowly turning around to catch all the little details of who he was outside of his work. Your eyes flickered towards the far wall in an instant, attention stolen away from the noise he was making and placed on the carefully mounted plaques. The shelves on the wall beside it were filled with books and, funnily enough, some heavy awards he’d won over the years doubling down as bookends.
You were too busy brushing your fingers along the broken spines, smiling whenever you recognised a title and growing curious whenever you didn’t, to notice he’d returned.
Eddie dragged a hand through his long hair, pushing away rebellious grey strands from his face before pulling at a cupboard for two glasses.
When he turned around again, he immediately noticed how intrigued you’d been by his book collection, and not towards the impressive plaques covering the entire wall next to you. He licked his lips, and made his way towards where you stood.
“You got some heavy reading here,” you mumbled when you heard the clinking sound of glasses getting closer, eyes still glued to the cracked spine of Open Veins of Latin America.
“Trust me, sometimes I surprise myself too,” he joked with a little grin tugging at his lips. “I never would’ve read it when I was your age.”
He held a tall, cylindrical case in his hand as he took a few steps back to the coffee table. Under the layer of dust, it looked matte brown with a subtle metallic sheen, in a way that it was obvious it was something quietly luxurious.
“You were telling me about how you got into metal?” he murmured as he sat down on the leather couch. He perched on the edge of the cushion, balancing the case on the coffee table while he opened it.
“Right.” You smiled shyly as the sound of whiskey spilling into glass filled the brief silence between the two of you. “I was in sixth grade and had the biggest crush on this boy in my class.”
“No,” he said dramatically and tilted his head back slightly, already chuckling. “You got into metal for a boy?”
“What can I say? Emil Korman had that effect on me,” you said absentmindedly as you reached for one of the glasses. “Anyway, he, uh…”
You took a sip of whiskey before your eyes flickered back towards the book shelves for a split second.
“He said his favourite band was Iron maiden, and I thought that,” you sighed dramatically before continuing, “pretending to be a Maiden fan was gonna make him fall for me, too.”
“Did it work?” Eddie asked through a grin, eyes squinting in disbelief.
“No,” you confessed with a quiet chuckle as you sank on the cushion beside him. “But it’s fine. At least I got a good taste in music out of it.”
Eddie barked out a laugh, shaking his head as his eyes slipped shut for a brief moment. When he opened them again, he found your gaze already on him.
“So what happened to Emil?”
“I was his first kiss,” you chuckled gently. “And then… absolutely nothing.”
“Ouch,” he grimaced. “Not even a middle-school relationship?”
“Not even eye contact most days.”
He nearly choked on his drink when your words reached his ears.
“Wait,” he said and pointed at you with his glass. “You became a Maiden fan for a guy who barely acknowledged you?”
“Unfortunately,” you admitted with a chuckle.
Eddie fell silent for a moment as he took another slow sip of his whiskey, though his eyes never quite left yours.
“And you stuck with metal after?”
“Turns out Children of the Damned made an impact on me.”
“Well,” a smile tugged at his lips as he lifted his glass slightly. “At least something good came out of Emil Korman.”
You laughed and gently clinked your glass against his.
“To Emil Korman,” you joked.
His ringed fingers tapped softly against the glass once, then again, before they stilled completely. Eddie tilted his head back just slightly, his gaze never leaving yours – it didn’t even drift. His eyes looked almost black beneath the low lights of his living room, impossible to read and entirely too focused on you.
He opened his mouth, only to close it again, squinting at nothing in particular. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to ask something else entirely before thinking better of it.
“What’s your favourite Corroded album?” he asked eventually, finally letting himself say the words out loud instead of pushing them away again.
“Bold of you to assume I even listen to you guys,” you murmured, a smirk tugging at your lips.
Eddie’s gaze lingered on the arch of your eyebrow and the way the light caught in your eyes.
“Oh, don’t play coy now,” he murmured before licking his bottom lip. “You look like a Pure Oaths & Pagan Rites kind of girl.”
A disbelieving smile tugged at your lips as you looked away from a brief second before returning your gaze to his.
“Wrong,” you said after clicking your tongue. “It’s Hollow Crusade.”
His eyebrows furrowed at your answer before confusion took over.
“What?” he scoffed. “That’s our worst album.”
“No, it’s not. Are you kidding me?” You took another sip of whiskey before shaking your head. “The philosophical storytelling on that album? Fucking insane.”
Eddie’s gaze lingered on your face, on the small smile tugging at your lips as you spoke. He lifted his glass and took another sip, letting your words settle into the space between the two of you.
“It’s raw and claustrophobic, and yet strangely tender,” you continued softly, your hand moving absentmindedly as you spoke. “It’s a criminally underrated album.”
For some reason, the words that slipped from your mouth sent something hot and uncomfortable spreading through his chest. He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watched you for a moment longer, his brain still trying to catch up.
You sat with one arm draped across the back of the couch, your head resting in the palm of your hand while your gaze remained fixed on his.
Somewhere in the middle of the lingering silence and beneath the low glow of the lights overhead, Eddie realised he’d shifted closer to you than he had been a minute ago.
He dragged a tattooed hand through his hair, pushing a few grey curls away from his face as he felt himself growing unexpectedly flustered beneath your gaze.
It was ridiculous, really.
He’d spent decades performing in front of packed stadiums. He’d sat through endless interviews with journalists determined to pick him apart, accepted awards in front of hundreds of people, and survived more awkward conversations than he cared to count.
Yet somehow, a twenty-two year old bartender complimenting one of Corroded Coffin’s least popular albums had rendered him completely incapable of forming a coherent thought.
“Jesus,” he muttered at last, shaking his head with a quiet laugh as he pulled his gaze away from yours. “Nobody ever says Hollow Crusade.”
Your eyes, however, stayed glued to his face, taking in the soft lines beside his eyes and the light grey beard he’d grown over the last few months.
Another few seconds passed before you bent to set your glass back on the table. Licking your lips, you leaned back into the couch and shifted a little closer to him.
“Does that do it for you?” you teased, unable to help yourself, a smile already tugging at your lips.
Eddie scoffed and looked away for a split second, trying to control the warmth that crept up his neck.
“Presumptuous, are we?”
“Am I wrong?” you murmured.
Your eyes flickered to his lips for the briefest moment before finding his gaze again.
It was easy – and far too much fun – to tease him, to watch him tip his head back and finish his whiskey instead of answering.
Besides, both of you already knew you weren’t wrong.
You leaned in slowly and curled your fingers around his glass, gently pulling it from his hand before setting it on the coffee table beside yours.
“Well?” you asked again, a little firmer this time. Your tongue swept across your bottom lip before a knowing smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Am I?”
Eddie’s breath caught.
He leaned back slightly, blinking a few times too many. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something. The words hovered somewhere behind his eyes before disappearing entirely.
Under the warm glow of the living room lights, he looked softer somehow. Less like the untouchable frontman plastered across magazine covers and more like a man who’d been unexpectedly caught off guard by learning something new about himself.
The faint scent of your perfume drifted between you as you leaned closer.
Your rings caught the light when you reached for his tattooed arm. Your fingertips brushed lightly against his warm skin as you slowly traced your way up until you reached his neck. You lingered on the neo-traditional raven inked into his skin – still dark and sharp compared to the rest of his tattoos, whose black lines had softened into faded blue over the years.
Eddie’s gaze followed your hand the entire way. All he could focus on was the warmth of your fingers against his skin.
You noticed the way his pupils dilated ever so slightly as his gaze lingered on your hand. A second later, he dragged his eyes back to yours and swallowed.
“You wanna know what I think, Eddie?” you asked, though the tone of your voice made it clear you weren’t actually looking for an answer. “I think you’re used to having control all the time. Over everything.”
Your fingertips brushed over the inked raven, drawing a fresh wave of goosebumps across his skin as you trailed higher until you reached his chin. When he tried to look away, his cheeks pink and warm, you gently guided his face back towards you.
“But that’s not really the way you like things, is it?” you continued softly, your fingers resting against his jaw. “Hm?”
“I, uh…” Eddie trailed off, blinking a few times too many beneath your gaze.
You licked your lips again, your eyebrows pulling together in mock sympathy as you tilted your head slightly to the side.
“All those groupies…” a faint pout tugged at your mouth. “They never gave you what you needed, did they?”
The air between you seemed to thicken instantly.
Another breath caught in his throat. For a moment, Eddie couldn’t tell whether it was the whiskey, the late hour, or the fact that you were looking at him like you already knew the answer.
The pout on your lips softened into a small smile when you noticed his eyes flickering down to your mouth. His gaze lingered there a second longer than he probably intended before you drew his attention back to your eyes with a few light taps against his jaw.
“How do you want me, Eds?” you murmured softly, your thumb brushing against his warm cheek. “Do you want me to take over, hm?”
Eddie blinked dumbly at you for a few seconds.
His mouth opened, then closed again. Whatever answer he wanted to give seemed to get lost somewhere on the way out.
You counted to ten before finally letting go of his face.
Then you leaned back just enough to drape your arm across the back of the couch once more, resting your head against your hand while forcing a look of boredom onto your face. Your free hand drummed absentmindedly against your thigh as you waited a moment longer.
“Am I wasting my time here?” you asked after another beat of silence, pursing your lips as your eyebrows pulled together.
“No,” he answered quickly before swallowing.
The barely concealed desperation in his voice made something twist pleasantly in your stomach, warmth spreading through your chest.
“No?” You raised an eyebrow at the man sitting beside you. “Because all I see is a man who’s pushing fifty and still hasn’t learned how to ask for what he wants.”
Eddie’s entire body went rigid, save for the nervous twitch of his hands at his sides.
He sucked in a sharp breath, his cheeks somehow deepening into an even darker shade of pink at your words – mean and sultry all at once.
“Sorry,” the apology slipped from his mouth before his brain had a chance to catch up.
Your lips twitched at the soft, unsteady sound of his voice.
Humming quietly, you reached for his face again and brushed your thumb across his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut for a brief second beneath your touch. Your gaze lingered on the movement of his throat as he swallowed hard before you pushed your digit past his lips.
A quiet whimper escaped him when you pulled your thumb from his mouth and brought it to your own. His eyes immediately dropped to your lips, to the way they closed around the tip before you sucked it clean of his spit.
“Should we try again?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.
You lowered your hand back to your thigh while watching him nod shyly.
“How do you want me, Eds?”
“I, uh…” he tried again before forcing a dry lump down his throat. “On top of me?”
Your lips twitched as the words came out cracked and desperate as he blinked a few times. His gaze flickered down to your lap, finding the thumb you’d pushed into his mouth only seconds earlier. There was something almost hesitant about the way he said it, his voice small and uncertain despite the man it belonged to.
A slow, knowing smile curled across your face; there he was – a world-famous musician practically folding for someone half his age.
Your eyes lingered on his for another moment before you pushed him gently back against the armrest of the couch.
You shifted onto your knees on the leather cushions and settled yourself over him without warning, and adjusted your position until you were comfortable – ignoring the soft huffs that escaped him and the raging hard on under you.
“Like this?” you murmured, your gaze fixed on his as your hand drifted across his clothed chest.
“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, as though the word had slipped out by accident.
Your hands trailed down his chest, feeling the uneven rise and fall of his breathing before you reached for his hands. You intertwined your fingers with his and guided them towards your thighs.
His tattooed hand trembled slightly when you let go, uncertainty flickering across his face.
“It’s okay, Eds,” you whispered as you leaned forwards until your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “You can touch me.”
The rings on his fingers dug into your jean-clad thighs when those four little words slipped from your mouth. He didn’t hesitate to touch you. His palms slid slowly over your thighs as he felt your warm breath ghost against the side of his face. Your lips trailed soft, open-mouthed kisses along his cheek before making their way down to his neck, occasionally nipping at his skin.
But you pulled away abruptly the moment his hands wandered beneath your ass.
“Sorry,” he breathed again, his voice small as his eyes blinked rapidly, like he’d done something wrong.
“No need to apologise, baby,” you whispered, your gaze never leaving his. “I’m not mad.”
You trailed a hand up his chest until you reached his face, brushing your thumb softly across his cheek.
“Just wanna make sure you’re comfortable here,” you murmured. “Or do you wanna go to your room?”
His lips parted slightly as he turned your question over in his mind.
“Uh…” he managed after a moment. “Bed, please.”
A smile tugged at your lips.
“Alright, big boy,” you murmured as you slipped off his lap, leaving him unexpectedly cold in the absence of your warmth. Then you reached for his hand and gently pulled him to his feet. “You gonna show me the way?”
Eddie nodded once, then again, as he finally found his footing. His dark brown eyes found yours beneath the warm lights overhead. His body stilled again for a split second before he nodded a third time and led you towards the hallway that connected the entryway to his bedroom.
His long grey curls shifted with the movement when he glanced over his shoulder, only to find your gaze already fixed on him.
Then he finally pushed open the bedroom door.
His trembling fingers reached for the light switches, nervously flicking them on and off again when the room became too bright. He toyed with them for another second before warm amber light finally spilled across the room.
Your gaze drifted across the deep green walls before settling on the painting hanging above the wooden king-sized bed positioned in the centre of the room.
“Take off your shirt,” you murmured absentmindedly, your tone gentle but firm, as you released your hand and stepped further inside.
Eddie dragged a hand through his grey curls, pushing them back from his face as he let out a deep sigh. His ringed fingers found the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head before tossing it carelessly onto the floor. The soft thud of fabric hitting wood drew your attention back to him.
It was obvious he took care of himself – something a younger version of himself would’ve probably cringed at. He wasn’t ripped, but he was fit enough that the tattoos scattered across his chest had stretched lightly over the years.
“Pants too,” you added, lifting an eyebrow.
He blinked once, then again, before his hands finally dropped to the buckle of his belt.
While his fingers fumbled briefly with the button of his jeans, you crossed the room and sat down on the neatly made bed. Crossing one leg over the other, you leaned back on your hands and let your gaze wander over his body.
His jeans pooled around his feet, the buckle clinking loudly against the wooden floor before he stepped out of them and nudged them aside with his foot. Eddie’s heartbeat pounded in his ears, swallowing a dry lump down his throat while he remained still for a moment longer, waiting for your next instruction.
But you were in no hurry to give one. Instead, your gaze continued its slow journey across the ink scattered over his skin, deliberately ignoring the hard on under his boxers, until it settled on the grim reaper tattooed onto his left thigh.
“C’mere,” you said and you pointed lazily towards the floor as you uncrossed your legs.
Eddie wiped his damp palms against his thighs before stepping closer. Then he stopped, his gaze dropping to the rings on his fingers, and he began curling one absentmindedly as though considering taking it off.
“No,” you said, stopping him before he could. “I didn’t tell you to take those off, did I?”
You tilted your head slightly, your eyebrows drawing together.
“Answer me when I ask you a question.”
He blinked a few times before finally lowering himself between your legs.
“No, you didn’t,” he whispered, his eyes lifting nervously back to your face.
His cheeks turned pink beneath your gaze, the warmth spreading down his neck and chest until it settled somewhere deep in his stomach. He fidgeted with his fingers, doing his best to ignore the way his cock twitched under the fabric of his boxers.
You tapped your fingers absentmindedly against your leg and licked your lips as you carefully considered your next words.
“Tell me what you want,” you murmured firmly.
Eddie’s entire body went rigid, and his breath caught for a split second. The nervous fidgeting stopped as he wiped his damp palms against his thighs once again.
Warm light spilled softly across his features, turning the silver threads through his curls amber beneath the glow overhead. He looked pretty like this; wide eyes beneath blown pupils, nervous hands twitching against his thighs as he sat back on his heels and looked up at you.
You studied him for a moment, making sure he was alright before reaching for his cheek. His breath hitched when your thumb brushed across his lips, encouraging them to part.
“C’mon,” you murmured softly as you purposefully pressed your thumb found its way back into his mouth. “Answer me.”
“I want you,” he admitted, the words slipping out muffled and unsteady.
A knowing smile tugged at your lips. “I know you can do better than that, baby.”
He swallowed nervously around your digit, his gaze flickering down to your mouth for the briefest moment before returning to your eyes.
“Can I…” he began, only to trail off when you slipped your thumb out of his mouth, and spread his spit across his cheek as you waited patiently. “Can we kiss?”
The words came out barely above a whisper, cracked with nerves, and were followed by a soft sigh when your hand slid from his jaw to the back of his neck. Your fingers threaded gently into his grey curls.
“Of course we can, baby,” you said lowly.
You guided him a little closer, stopping when only a breath separated the two of you.
A mischievous glimmer flashed through your eyes as your gaze dipped briefly to his lips before finding his eyes again. A low, broken sound escaped him when your mouth brushed lightly against his, though you made no move to close the distance completely.
The anticipation was obvious; you could see it in the way his eyes searched yours and in the increasingly uneven rise and fall of his chest.
For a moment, you simply let the tension linger between you.
Then, without warning, you closed the gap. A startled sound escaped him at the sudden movement. His eyebrows lifted in surprise before his eyes finally slipped shut, leaning into the warmth of your touch as the last of the distance between you finally disappeared.
Your tongue delved past his parted lips, exploring his warm mouth with bold, slick strokes. His hands twitched on his thighs before they slid up your legs. His palms hovered hesitantly over your waist before he wrapped his fingers around you, steadying himself. It was too much, too fast – a sharp jolt of electricity racing straight to his covered cock. Another whimper slipped from his throat, airy and desperate, when you pulled back just enough to bite at his lip.
You tightened the grip on his hair before you pulled his head back. Eddie inhaled sharply when you broke away, his lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss. Your eyes searched for his, a smile tugging at your mouth as you licked your lips. Your gaze pinned him in place, dark and inviting, sending a shiver racing down his spine.
He didn’t care anymore about the age gap – he stopped caring long ago, especially with the grip you had on his hair, and the way you’d completely wrecked him with a dizzying kiss.
“Get on the bed,” you murmured softly as your lips pulled into a mischievous smile. “Back against the headboard, baby.”
You watched Eddie rise up on trembling knees, joints cracking softly, his fingers loosening their grip on your waist as the command echoed in his ears. His swollen lips part, but no words come out.
He swallowed thickly as he walked around the bed, sinking against the headboard. His muscles coiled tight, his knuckles blanched as he gripped the sheets.
The air crackled with tension, heavy with promise. His legs twitched as he spread his thighs, feeling exposed yet aching for more under your firm gaze.
You pushed away from the edge and pulled your shirt over your head, throwing it carelessly somewhere before you turned around towards him. His breath came shallow and faster while his eyes followed your hands to the button of your jeans, his hands twitching while every inch of him yearned to touch you.
The thick silence was interrupted with the metallic sound of you pulling down your zipper before pushing the thick denim down your legs and stepping away from it.
Eddie inhaled sharply when you stepped closer to the bed, sinking your knees into the mattress and crawling over to him. The heat of your body seared through the thin fabric of his boxers when you sat down on his lap, your crotch flush against his hard-on. Anticipation coiled tighter, his stomach fluttering when your hand came up to the back of his neck once again.
“You’re so pretty, Eddie,” you whispered as you scraped your nails against his scalp.
Your eyes trailed down his face, finding his gaze glued to the bra hugging your breasts. The desperate look in his eyes and the erratic way his chest moved up and down let you know he itched to see you without it.
“Take it off for me?” you whispered sweetly and before giving him a contrasting tug at his silver strands when he didn’t immediately react.
Eddie jerked at the sudden pull at his hair, a strangled whimper escaping his lips. With shaking hands, he reached behind you and fumbled clumsily in his haste. The delicate lace fell away, revealing silver skulls hugging your hardened nipples. His eyes drank in the sight, pupils somehow blown even wider while he absentmindedly threw your bra on the ground.
His eyes flickered up to yours for a quick second before they fell down onto the piercings once again.
“Fuck,” he chocked out, his trembling fingers nervously reaching for your tits before halting his hands mid-air.
You leaned further into him, giving him silent approval to touch you. Eddie traced the swell of your breasts reverently, his cold fingertips grazing your sensitive nipples, and his warm rings digging in your skin while he gulped nervously.
“Can I?” he asked softly anyway, his gaze glued to yours while the words slipped his mouth.
“Go ahead, baby,” you murmured softly, a smile tugging at your lips.
Eddie’s other hand snaked around your waist and pulled you flush against him. He arched up, capturing one peaked nipple between his lips, giving it a gentle suck. His eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes closed, lost in your silky skin and the warm metal clashing against his teeth.
He moaned against your breast when you tugged harshly at his hair, accidentally rolling your hips against his. The friction sent sparks skittering under his skin while he continued lapping and sucking at your pebbled peak.
You rolled your hips against his with each moan that slipped out of your mouth. Eddie’s cock twitched under you, and he let go of your waist to palm your other breast roughly, pinching and rolling the sensitive buds between calloused fingers. He moaned against your skin when his hips twitched once again.
“Please,” he whimpered against your nipple, the word coming out muffled.
“Please what, Eddie?” you murmur as you pulled at his hair until his plush lips popped off your breasts with a soft pop! “I can’t read your mind, dummy. You gotta tell me.”
His chest rose up and down heavily as his gaze trailed up. Furrowed eyebrows and glassy eyes found yours, his mouth hanging low and glistening with spit.
“Want you so bad,” he whispered before licking his lips. “Wanna eat you out.”
The words spilled down, shameless and desperate, sending another wave of slick to seep into your lacy underwear.
“Please.”
“You wanna be a good boy and eat me out?” you said and tilted your head to the side, eyes glued to his.
Not waiting for a reaction, you pulled him into another sloppy kiss, slick tongues brushing against each other. You gave him another harsh pull at his roots before you pulled away from his lap to take off your lacy panties.
“Lay down f’me.”
A shudder raced down Eddie’s spine at your demand, and he scrambled until he laid back. His fingers twitched beside him when you climbed back onto him, a needy whine drawing from his throat when the sight of your glistening pussy hovered above his face. He grabbed your hips, urging you closer until his nose bumped into your swollen clit.
Eddie breathed over your slick heat. His tongue darted out, lapping at you tentatively before he grew bolder and sunk his tongue into your entrance. Low vibrations travelled through you when he groaned desperately when he tasted your slick, his eyes fluttering shut. The coarse white hairs of his bear rubbed against your pussy as he somehow pulled you even closer to his face, licking a greedy line back to your clit.
“You’re doing so well for me, Eds,” you whimpered as you moved your hips against his face, your clit bumping against the tip of his nose. His hand twitched around your thighs before he tightened his grip on you, rings biting sharply in your skin, and a knowing smile momentarily found it way to your face before your lips fell open with another broken moan. “Y-you like it when I give you compliments, hm?”
He whimpered into your slick heat, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes opened in search of yours. He doubled down his efforts when he noticed your mouth hanging low, and grazed his teeth against your clit before harshly sucking on it.
“Wanna be good for you,” he mumbled against your slick folds.
The words were barely more than a whisper, but they still sent warmth rushing through him. A deep blush spread across his cheeks the moment he heard himself say them out loud.
Eddie squeezed his eyes shut for a brief second. There was no point pretending otherwise anymore. He was completely putty in your hands – the words he’d just spoken echoed in the back of his mind, serving as undeniable proof.
“Fuck, Eddie–” you moaned as you threw your head back. “I-I’m gonna–”
He moaned into your dripping core as you rolled your hips against his face, the sound muffled yet eager nonetheless. He lapped urgently at your cunt, and his fingers twitched around your thighs as he swallowed everything you gave him as you came with a scream of his name.
Eddie peppered tender kisses along your inner thighs, and slowly lifted you to sit on his chest. His beard tickled your overstimulated clit when he did so, a chocked whimper leaving your mouth. His eyes flickered up to your face when the pretty sound rang in his ears.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispered before he gulped down.
His eyes flickered back down to your folds as he brought his fingers to your clit, tracing a few lazy circles on it before he slowly dipped one calloused finger in your pussy until only the silver pig on it remained. A groan escaped him as he felt you clench around him.
But then you wrapped your fingers around his hand, and pulled him out of your slick folds.
“No,” you breathed out, your chest moving unevenly as you looked down at him, your eyebrows furrowed.
The ache in his groin bordered on painful, strained fabric doing little to conceal his need.
“It’s my turn now.”
Eddie’s breath came ragged as the words slipped from your mouth, sending a painful ache down his length.
“Please,” he rasped, voice strangled as he failed to catch his breath. “Wan– need to be inside you.”
He fisted his hands at his sides, nails biting into his palms as he fought the urge to grab at you.
“I’m not taking requests anymore,” you murmured firmly, moving further down until you sat between his legs. Your fingers curled around the elastic band of his boxers, and tugged it down achingly slow. “You’re gonna take what I give you.”
Your warm fingertips brushed lightly over his thick thighs, tracing the lines of his tattoos as you slowly made your way up to his hips. Your nails bit gently into his skin, drawing a soft whimper from him before your touch drifted inwards. Almost absentmindedly, you brushed your fingers across the silky skin of his cock.
Eddie was thick, pretty and absolutely desperate; his tip as red and swollen as his bitten lips. Soft, white curls coiled around his base, a result of not trimming himself while he was on the road.
A violent shudder wracked Eddie’s frame at the fleeting contact. He shamelessly arched into your touch as a broken moan spilled from his lips, and his cock throbbed urgently, his pretty tip already glistening with pre-cum.
You spit into your hand before wrapping your fingers around him, giving him a lazy tug as a mischievous smile grew on your lips. Then, you slowly trailed your hand along his length, until your hand closed loosely around his swollen tip, circling your palm on it while spreading his pre-cum around.
After leaning down until your eyes are level with your hand, you flickered your gaze up to his, maintaining eye contact with him as you let a thick drop of spit spill on his cock. You spread it down his length before finally taking him into your mouth. You start bobbing slowly, almost painfully slow, keeping your eyes on his face.
Eddie whined piteously as you manhandled him. He watched you through hooded eyes, enraptured by the sight of you toying with his weeping cock. Your somewhat degrading words from just moments ago still rang in his ears, heightening the heat low in his belly as shame mingled with want in a dizzying cocktail.
The obscene suction, the firmly drag of your spit-drenched palm, the sultry gleam in your eyes – it’s nearly torturous. It made his hips twitch restlessly under you, desperate for you to take him deeper into your throat. But still, he held himself through sheer force of will, submitting wholly to you no matter how cruel you were being.
Eddie stared down at you with glossy eyes, ingraining the view of you lazily sucking his tip into his eyelids.
You were in no rush, and just let the tense knot deep in his stomach tighten until it nearly drove him insane. He dragged a hand through his hair, and tugged firmly at his roots while he kept his gaze glued onto yours. He watched how you pulled back, and slowly licked your lips before you took him back in your mouth again.
“Jesus–” he whimpered, trembling under your touch as you fastened your rhythm ever so slightly. “Please.”
A tiny bead of sweat rolled from his forehead down to the tip of his nose. He kept his eyes glued on you, flickering down to your mouth for a moment while his fell open.
You hummed softly around him before sucking him faster, loosening your grip on his base and gripping his thighs instead. Digging your nails into his milky skin, you pushed yourself lower, taking more of his cock in your mouth.
His breath, already uneven, hitched as shaky gasps fell from his pretty lips while you worked him deeper in your warm, tight throat. Your tongue swirled around his length, drool trickling down to his fuzzy sack, until his brain short-circuited with the visceral sensation of being wanted by someone who knew exactly how to tear him apart – unlike any other girl he’d fucked over the years. You increased your pace, a muffled gag echoing in the room when he accidentally bucked upwards.
“I– mmpff!”
Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, his grip on the sheets underneath him tightening as he finally came. Warm, sticky ropes of cum trailed down your throat while his hips twitched and his chest heaved in uneven bursts.
He lay there for a moment, legs trembling under your warm hands, breathing in the sweet mix of sweat and spit that hung in his bedroom. Eventually, he forced his eyes open, and looked down at you when he felt you pulling your mouth off him. His cock twitched when you gave him one last hard suck on his tip before letting him fall out from between your lips.
“I-I…” he breathed out, blinking relentlessly as he watched you push yourself upright. “Fuck.”
Ignoring the sticky drop of cum trailing down the corner of your mouth, you sat back on your heels and squeezed his thighs while a knowing smile tugged at your lips.
Without voicing out a warning, you climbed back onto his lap and straddled him. Eddie froze under you, his cock twitching between your folds as you forced him to look up at you. He felt so small under your gaze – a pathetic, tangled spill of ink and frayed nerves kept intact only by your overwhelming presence above him.
Your fingers reached up, sliding into his messy curls and cupped the back of his head. You gave him a sharp tug, holding his gaze glued onto yours.
“You’re gonna give me another one,” you murmured, still smiling down at him. “I don’t care if you’re sensitive, or if you can’t take it; you are giving me another one.”
A breathless, broken oh escaped him, his pupils blowing wide until the warm brown ring around them nearly disappeared. His hands moved on their own accord, reaching for your breasts and tracing the peaked circles of your nipples while you rolled your hips against his.
Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed, his overly sensitive cock twitching under you, as he watched you lean down over him until your breasts were level with his desperate mouth. He moved his lips against your skin, teeth grazing your nipple and clinking against the silver skulls hugging it.
“You like my tits a little too much, don’t you?” you whispered into his ear, and gave his hair another hard tug.
With agonizing slowness, you lifted your hips just enough to slide your free hand between you to grab his cock. You gave him a few lazy tugs, ignoring his broken whimpers and the deep furrow between his brows, and then lined him up with your slit. You pushed down just a tad, just his tip resting inside you. A gasp caught in his throat, his teeth accidentally biting your nipple harder than you’d expected. You choked on a yelp, and your eyebrows pulled into a scowl as you pulled away from him.
“S-sorry,” he quickly breathed out when your nipple fell from his mouth.
You let go of his cock, and let it slap against his stomach as you sat back on his thighs. For a moment, you just sat there and stared at him. Eddie trembled under your hard gaze, fingers twitching beside him.
“You do that again,” you said slowly, “and I’ll walk away.”
Eddie gulped hard and shook his head, mouth falling open only to close again. Then, ever so slowly, he nodded, and whispered another soft sorry.
The begging glimmer in his eyes tightened the knot in your stomach. You stared down at him for a few more seconds before, finally, moving your hips closer to his cock once again.
“Are you gonna behave?” you murmured, and wrapped your fingers around his base.
“Y-yes,” he breathed out.
More than thirty years of singing and smoking, yet his voice had never sounded as rough as it did now.
For a second time, you lined him up with your slit. He blinked rapidly as you pushed down slowly, painfully so. Eddie whined out a sob – loud and pathetic – as you pushed down a little further. You sank your nails in his chest as you slammed down your hips, squirming and panting as he filled you to the brim. And then your mouth is hanging open, a soft gasp escaping you when you give him a small – almost tentative – bounce on his cock. You reached down, curling your fingers around his hands and brought one to your clit, and the other back to your breasts.
Eddie squirms, unable to go anywhere when you lifted your hips and slammed down on him again. You gushed around his cock as he stroked your clit in distracted, almost non-existent circles.
He nearly came again as felt you cinch his cock as you rocked your hips, bouncing up and down.
“F-fuck, you feel so good, Eds,” you breathed out, and nearly fell on top of him before you were able to grab his headboard. His open lips brush against your chest as he choked on another moan, your words ringing in his ears. “You fill me up so well.”
His back arched into you when you started bouncing harder, occasionally clenching hard around him before you lifted your hips again. You laced one of your hands in his hair as you fucked him just hard enough to make his overpriced bed creak and groan. Burying your face in the crook of his neck as you took him, your legs squirmed and muscles tensed as you took every drag of his cock.
“Mmpff!” he whimpered against your chest before he took one of your bouncing tits into his mouth once again. His warm tongue stroked feverishly against your nipple, while his fingers tugged softly at the other.
His toes curled as you clenched around him again. The grip you had on his hair tightened, and you pressed your nails into his scalp – not enough to actually hurt him, but sharp enough that it made his mouth work faster against your nipple.
“I– I’m–” he whimpered as he pulled his mouth away from your breast. “Fuckfuckfuck. Please don’t st– I’m–”
“Yeah?” you breathed out, a dark smile tugging at your lips. “Pretty boy’s gonna cum for me again?”
Eddie groaned in your ear when he felt your slick trailing down to his fuzzy sack, and you tugged harshly at his hair again as you both spilled over. Him a few seconds before you, his loud and broken moans ringing in your ears while he spilled inside you and your pussy milked every drop he had left in him.
“Fuck, Eddie,” you moaned out against his neck. “That’s it, baby, fill me up.”
Your chest heaved as you slowly stilled your hips, and you leaned up to place a kiss on his temple. For a moment, you just stayed like that; hips flush against his, heaving chests touching, milky cum trailing down his balls. Then, like you hadn’t already tortured him enough, you leaned back and watched his face as you wiggled your hips, feeling his softening cock twitch inside you.
“N-no, please,” he cried out, his head throwed back. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut when you did it again, then stilled, and did it once more before stopping altogether.
You licked your lips before a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.
Eddie looked absolutely beautiful like this; cheeks red, long white and grey curls splayed messily on the pillows underneath him, inked chest heaving unevenly as he tiredly blinked the forming tears away from his eyes.
Never, in all forty-seven years of his life – and in the more than thirty years he’d spent sexually active – had Eddie ever experienced something quite like this. No fleeting encounter, no one-night stand, had ever managed to turn his brain to mush the way you just had.
Most of his hookups over the last twenty years had been with fans or groupies, just like tonight – yet not a single one of them had ever tried to take the reins from him. Once they’d managed to get him alone, he’d always be the one doing the work. The one paying attention, taking charge, making sure whoever shared his bed for the night left satisfied.
But here you were; the only person who had ever managed to unlock a need in him he hadn’t even known existed.
“No?” you asked, playing dumb, and tilting your head to the side. “Are you tired, old man?”
“I– Jesus, woman,” he exhaled as he pulled himself out of his thoughts. A breathless, disbelieving chuckle escaped him as he looked away for just a second. “You’re killing me, here.”
“Don’t die,” you chuckle, accidentally clenching around him again, and pulling another broken whimper from his lips. “I’m waiting for you guys to announce a new album in the making.”
Eddie took a second to steady his breathing before your words finally sunk in.
A deep, belly-aching laugh escaped him as he shook his head in disbelief at your words, before he winced as he felt you flutter around him again.
You take a deep breath before you lifted your hips and let his softening cock slip out of you. His breath hitched at the movement, tongue swiping over his teeth before he let out a deep exhale. He kept his gaze on you as you scratched your scalp, a soft sigh falling from your lips.
Eddie’s eyes followed you as you moved away from the bed, watching your trembling legs nearly give out beneath you when you reached for your clothes.
“Wait–”
He cut himself off, pushing himself upright until his back rested against the headboard.
“Where–” he shook his head and furrowed his eyebrows ever so slightly. “Don’t go.”
You stilled at his words, one arm already through a sleeve. Slowly, you turned back towards him, feeling warmth creep into your cheeks.
“Uh…” you trailed off softly, blinking a few times as you searched – and failed – for the right words. “What?”
“Stay,” he murmured. “Please.”
“You want me to stay?” you asked, and blinked again before letting out a soft laugh of disbelief. “Are you sure?”
“It’s…” his eyes flickered towards the clock on the nightstand, “nearly five.”
He licked his lips and dragged a tattooed hand through his grey curls before letting out a quiet breath.
For a moment, neither of you said anything.
Eddie chuckled softly, glancing away for a second before looking back at you.
“And I’m pretty sure I promised you pizza,” he murmured.
His dark brown eyes glimmered beneath the warm amber light as he waited for you to respond.
You licked your lips before swallowing, the sound suddenly too loud in your ears.
Then, as though your body had made the decision before your brain could catch up, the shirt you’d been halfway through putting on slipped from your fingers and fell back to the floor.
“Pizza for breakfast?” you asked with a shy smile as you climbed back into bed.
“After all of that?” he replied dramatically before a scoff escaped him. “Hell, I’ll even let you eat in my fucking bed.”
That earned another laugh from you as you settled beside him, tucking your head into the palm of your hand and looking up at him.
“Pizza in bed?” You raised an eyebrow. “Careful, Munson. You’re gonna make me fall in love with you.”
Eddie opened his mouth, only to close it again. For a moment, he simply looked at you, tired-eyed and warm beneath the glow of the amber light overhead.
Then the corner his mouth twitched.
“Would that be so bad?”
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˚꩜｡a/n pt.2: i nearly gave myself a heart attack when i accidentally clicked somewhere and thought i’d deleted this from my concepts (it went to queue instead), so give me kisses and comments if you came this far
Summary: your first time with steve leads to some accidental confessions.
Cw: smut, piv, kissing, pet names, confession, really cute, kinda awkward!steve, series 4 steve (cuz hes just so perfect and my fave)
Wc: 2k
you and steve had been dating for three months. 12 blissful weeks of always having flowers on your bedside, breakfast dates, sleepovers, stolen glances and practically being attached at the hip.
it was going amazing, better then you could ever have imagined. steve was sweet, caring and so attentive, basically every thing he wasn't in high school.
steve believed that the girl who put up with him, who gave him a chance after so many other girls turned him down for 'losing his charm', deserved the world.
so he gave you it.
you knew him in school, a couple years older than you, every week it seemed he had a different girl on his arm. until nancy wheeler broke his heart and he lost his charm.
but to you? having a broken heart suited him like no other.
then once he graduated, and you still had a year of school left, you lost track of where he was at.
until one year later, your graduation summer. when a lonely evening had you wondering to the video store to rent some background noise to drain out the quiet.
and steve was the one to help you find the best movie for that, cutting a deal that included some actual company with it.
you found his slight nervousness talking to you so much more attractive than his old 'charm'. when you told him, he basically shut down, turning bright read having expected you to laugh in his face at his pure attempt and walk off like all the other girls seem to be doing.
but then slowly but surely, your relationship grew from that night, steadily building over time until this point.
you'd not gone further than a long, hot make out and a bit of heavy petting. but something in the air of steve's empty living room was making you think you were about to take that next step.
maybe it was the half finished bottle of wine you definitely shouldn't have had, or the quiet patter of rain against the windows, or the dumb romcom you regretted putting on.
or maybe you were just feeling it.
and how couldn't you with your tongue down steve's throat, his warm lips locked on yours. your hips bracket his, your knees sinking into the soft sofa cushions where he sat.
one of his big hands was splayed out across your back, the other digging into your left ass cheek, moving with each shallow, unconscious roll of your hips. your hands curled into his hair, running through the long strands then pulling at the short curls at the nape of his neck.
on the floor beside you, a small pile of your clothes began, consisting of the blankets that were once over you both, your (steve's) jumper, his tshirt and your tank top.
"mm princess" steve breaks the kiss.
"huh?" you chase his lips.
"you seem like-"
"yeah" you grab his jaw, pulling him back into you.
"darlin- darlin wait a sec"
"what?- do you not..?"
"no i do" his eyes widened, frantically nodding his head.
"kay" you swallowed, waiting for him to explain why he stopped.
"just think- you don't deserve a couch for that- ya know?" he reasoned.
"steve harrington are you tryna invite me into your bedroom" you teased, already blushing.
"are you accepting?"
you surged forward to kiss him, steve gasping into your mouth at the sudden movement.
"i'll take that as a yes"
his hands snaked under your ass as he stood, deserting the wine, your clothes and the shitty romcom playing away in the lounge.
down the hall and up the stairs steve carried your body to his room, laying you down gently in the middle of his bed, not breaking your kiss until he climbed over you.
his lips press across your jaw, down your neck to your chest leaving a trail of soft purple marks on your skin until he reached the valley of your bra covered tits.
he dragged his lips over the swell of your breasts, mouthing at them before looking up at you. your lips were parted, huffing out short breaths as you watched steve.
"can i- take this off?" he timidly asked, gesturing to your bra.
"yeah" you breathed out, arching your back off the mattress so he could unclasp it.
he peeled it away from you, watching your nipples peak under the fresh air, immediately dropping his head back to latch his lips around them.
he mouthed at your tit, the other getting attention from his hand. your hips rolled up into him as your hands ran all over steve's bare back, feeling his shoulder muscles under your fingertips.
"stevie" you mewled.
noticing your impatience, he pulls off your chest, leaving your tits flushed and shiny with his saliva. he begins to trail his mouth down further, but stopped by your hands around his head.
"steve please- i don't need that"
"but-"
"just need you- please" you begged, slowly coaxing him back up your body towards your lips.
"oh yeah- yeah okay princess"
he kissed you softly once before sitting back on his calfs and dipping his fingers in the waistband of your sweatpants.
he pulls them down quickly, his breath catching when he realised your panties matched the bra he'd just thrown onto the floor.
"cmon steve"
"shh darlin- i'll take care of you" he chuckled lowly at your impatience.
you bent your knees up to your chest, using your feet to try and pull at the fabric of his own joggers.
"okay okay" he assured, shaking his head with a smile as he put your ankles back onto the bed before finally shimmying out of his own bottoms.
you bit your lip looking up at him, seeing the very obvious large bulge in his underwear. you'd seen him hard once before, then a couple times as he was changing, but it was all still so new.
"princess" he leaned back over you. "still okay?"
"yeah- yeah i'm okay.. you okay?"
"more than okay" he smiled.
you stared into each others eyes for a beat before remembering where you were, suddenly both reaching for each others underwear.
you both pulled them off at the same time, laughing as your wrists clashed and arms got tangled, finally removing the last barrier between you.
"say the word and ill stop"
"okay"
"yeah?"
"yeah"
he kissed you again, one hand sliding between your bodies to trace his fingers through your slick folds.
"so wet baby, all f'me?"
"for you"
his fingers found your hot entrance, pushing one in slowly. you gasped at the intrusion, butterflies sparking in your belly as his fingers found curled up against your spongy wall.
"steve"
"yeah darlin?"
"need you- properly"
“are you-“
“i’m sure, please”
he slid his finger out, wrapping his now slick hand around his length and shifting his hips until you felt his tip against your core.
"i'll go slow"
you swallow and nod, trying to not let yourself be intimidated by his size. he holds eye contact as he pushes in the first inch, searching for any signs of discomfort.
"keep going" you whispered.
inch by inch, agonisingly slowly, steve sank his cock into your welcoming cunt, wrapping himself in your softness, his hand finding yours. he laces your fingers together, holding them up by your head.
"god you feel- amazing"
the burn of you stretching around him bled into fiery pleasure almost immediately. your walls opening up willingly for steve, fitting him in like he was made for you.
“so big” you breathed out, mind turning all melty and warm.
“still with me?” he cupped your face in his large palm leaning over your body, his other hand tightening on yours.
“mhmm yeah” you looked back up at him, wrapping your legs around his back.
staring up at steve’s wide eyes, your chest tightened, and you knew it wasn’t from the way he was physically filling you up. although you could swear you felt him in your lungs.
“you can- move”
“yeah?”
“mhm”
“you feel so good- honestly princess i- don’t think im gonna last”
steve slowly pulls out, until just his tip is back grazing your entrance. with a shaky exhale he thrusts back in, starting up a rhythm that forced him intoxicatingly deep.
“mffh steve”
“feel good baby?”
“so good” you tilted your chin up to find his lips, whining against them.
“you sound so pretty like this- such pretty noises” his lips meet yours, kissing you lazily and gently.
steve’s hips roll in time your kiss, getting faster as your kiss deepens. your hands slip away from each other, both your arms reaching up to wrap around his neck, fingers tangling in his curls.
the hand that was holding yours runs down your body, his whole palm covering the curve of your waist, fingertips gracing your belly button, until he reaches where he disappears into you.
with his hand splayed out on your lower stomach, the pad of his thumb finds and rubs over your swollen clit. you gasp into his mouth at the sudden stimulation on your sensitive nerves, arching your back under him, pushing your chest into his.
“steve!”
“feel that baby- so full aren’t you?”
“yeah- uhh- so full”
his palm pushed on your lower stomach, against the faint bulge of his cock under your skin. the pressure between your hips doubles with steve’s hand on your belly.
“oh god- i’m so”
the tight coil under steve’s hand was tightening, quickly, your release in sight. steve could tell; the way your thighs trembled beside his hips, the way your walls tightened around his length.
“you close princess?”
“yeah- i-“
“let go for me darlin, i’ve got you”
your orgasm crashed over you at the sound of steve’s gravely words, washing over your whole body in wave after wave of pleasure, your head falling back against the soft pillow.
steve was close behind you, no longer able to hold back with the way your cunt was fluttering around him, or the beautiful sounds falling from your even prettier, swollen lips.
as he came, he dropped his head forward into your neck, lips attaching to the soft spot under your ear, mouthing at it as his climax took over.
“i love you”
you thought you were so blissed out that you were just hearing things, but when steve pulled back from your neck sharp and wide eyed, you know you weren't imagining anything.
“shit i didn’t-“
“steve?”
“no i- well- i did uhm”
red creeped up his neck, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. you looked back up at him, chest heaving, fluttering your eyelashes in disbelief, and something warmer. relief.
“fuck- you don’t have to”
“i love you too”
the words fell of your lips softly, like a warm confession in a cold night. and to steve, it sounded like an angels personal prayer.
“you-“
“yeah”
his forehead fell against yours, closing his eyes and finally breathing steady with relief. you stayed for a moment, just breathing the same air, his nose nudging against yours with every inhale.
eventually, steve rolled of you, the loss of fullness from inside you and weight from on top of you making you whine softly.
you turned onto your side, curling into steve’s. you rested your head on his chest, listening to the still slightly fast thump of his heartbeat. his fingers found your hair, petting it gently as you shivered at the contact.
“so you seriously love me?” he whispered, almost afraid you were going to turn around as say it was a joke.
“yes- so serious” you pulled back to lean on your arm, looking at steve. “you got all scared”
“shut up” he quickly dismissed your teasing, pink tint returning to his cheeks, which you leaned down to kiss.
“i’ve almost said it before” you whispered against the corner of his mouth, feeling it curved upwards into a smirk at your confession.
“really?”
“now you shut up”
you layed your head down onto the pillow next to steve, throwing your leg over his hip so he turned slightly more into you. his arm rested habitually over your waist as yours held his bicep.
“i love you” he murmured against your lips.
“i love you” you closed the gap, kissing him until you felt dizzy.
Being ‘just friends’ with Steve is easy until it’s not.
wc: 5k
warnings: 18+ | season five steve, flirting, tension, semi sneaking around, semi public unprotected p in v smut in The Squawk, praise kink, big dick steve talking you through it, cream pie, a little rovicki angst with the beginnings of ronance. steve slandering Beetlejuice because i know he would hate that movie.
author’s note: i don’t know what to tell you, this is pure smut. my ovulation has turned me into a rabid animal.
It was hard not to notice Steve Harrington. Everyone did.
Especially when he’s sitting across from you in the studio on a worn down rolling chair, legs spread wide in tight fitting denim. His big hands work the rubix cube with the utmost concentration, forearms flexing underneath the pushed up sleeves of his worn-in WSQK sweater. Every flick of his wrist stretches the fabric over his broad shoulders with each movement, as long deft fingers move rapidly to solve the puzzle in small clicks of plastic. Concentrated eyebrows furrow under that one swoop of hair that won’t just stay back, as he very badly pretends to listen to Robin’s regaling of another fight with Vickie about Nancy for the third time tonight.
The air around him has always rivaled the kind of humidity that suffocates your skin on the hottest Indiana summer day. A palpable energy that's buzzed around the two of you since Robin introduced you at one of Rick’s parties a few months ago. It’s the kind of chemistry that’s recently become very hard to ignore as introductions turned into third wheeling late night shifts at the squawk, and regular invitations to movie nights at their shared apartment. The biggest culprit of them all though? Steve’s incessant need to always drive you home. It doesn’t matter to him how late it is, or out of his way it is, even if it’s a blizzard or a torrential downpour — walking or catching the bus is never an option. Not if he has anything to do with it.
The quiet conversations that happen inside his BMW are always easy, even a little bit flirty when Robin isn’t around. On those nights, he makes it a point to rest his hand on the stick shift so close to your thighs they search for each other, squirming in his leather seat. Those are the ones that always end with him parked in front of your place for hours. Both of you losing track of time talking about anything and everything while learning those little things about each other that turn into something bigger over time. Unfortunately for you, that time feels a lot like now, and the silent promise to never act on whatever this is starting to feel nearly impossible to keep.
Steve’s eyes flit towards you for no particular reason, catching you staring, sparking something inside of them that warms deep in your belly. Something unmistakably dangerous.
Forcing yourself to look away, embarrassment blooms on your cheeks as you clear your throat with a shake of your head. But it doesn’t take long for your eyes to find their way back to him because it’s all they seem to want to do these days. With one side of his mouth tugged up, his full attention is on you now while his fingers don’t stop their mission to finish the puzzle he’s solved a million times before. Something about that has you biting the fat of your bottom lip, shifting in your seat perched on the side of his desk.
The whites of his teeth shine in a playful flirty grin as he rocks back in his chair, spreading his legs wider, earning that roll of your eyes he was looking for. Fast clicks of the rubix cube catch louder in your ears as all of the colors line up perfectly in his hands, and that grin on his stupidly handsome face turns into a proud beam like its the first time he’s accomplished this feat.
”Still got it!” He winks, tossing the toy up casually before catching it.
”Were you even listening to me, Dingus?” Robin hisses, smacking the cube out of his hand and you try not to giggle at the dejected look on his face that quickly turns into its factory setting of annoyance.
”Yeah, I was listening to the story you’ve told me three times today.” He snaps, leaning over to grab the toy off the ground, almost falling when the chair threatens to go off kilter. “Maybe, just maybe there’s a reason Vickie keeps getting mad.”
You’ve watched them have this conversation at least once a week for the past month where Steve tiptoes around getting Robin to admit her inconvenient crush on Nancy Wheeler.
“Hey! Who’s side are you on here?” She snaps, with a glare that wrinkles the top of her forehead.
Steve opens his mouth to reply but she quickly cuts him off before he even has a chance.
“You know what, no. No! I can’t be here, I need to go.” Robin deflects like she always does, grabbing her messenger bag she storms out of the soundproof room, and right out of the station’s double doors. Leaving you and Steve alone.
He scoffs, staring out the glass after her, a silent argument with himself on whether he should follow or not evident on his face. He runs a hand through his hair with a bouncing knee, taking a deep breath through his nose before bringing his gaze back to you, that rogue strand flopping back across his forehead.
“I wasn’t trying to be an asshole.” He groans defeated with eyes that plead for some kind of reassurance. “Should I go find her?”
“I think she just needs a minute.” You reply softly, legs dangling. “If she does have feelings for someone else, that’s gotta be overwhelming. She’s new at this, ya know?”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, jaw ticking taking one last look outside before you see him visibly let it go with a sag of his shoulders.
”Always am.” You tease with a smile, doing your best to lighten the mood.
His eyes shift back to you, that dangerous thing from before returning ten fold twinkling in the gold specs inside of them. Suddenly the realization that the two of you are alone consumes the entire room, air turning thick with something that feels inevitable, that small little joke of yours working too well.
“Now don’t get crazy.” He scoffs, using his long legs to roll his chair towards you.
Something swoops in your belly, fingers curling around the wooden edge of the desk while you try to keep your composure, watching his Nike’s close the space.
“Name one time I’ve been wrong.”
Your challenge comes with a tilt of your chin, and an arch of your brow. The smirk you get in return has your teeth digging into your bottom lip, thighs closing the small gap between them. It still isn’t enough to stop the warmth between them from spreading, especially when he stops right in front of you. His face aligns with your knees from his seat, sending your body humming with his proximity to the place that’s wanted more of him for months now.
”How about when you said Beetlejuice was a good movie?” He snorts, meeting your gaze from under his lashes, something baiting inside of it.
”Are you kidding me? It’s an incredible movie! Tim Bur—“
”It was weird.” He cuts off with an irritated face, like just the memory of it is enough to annoy him.
”You’re weird.” You retort immediately, glaring with a scrunch of your nose.
Steve raises his eyebrows at you, before his narrowed gaze trails slowly down the length of your body. It lingers on your exposed thighs that he’s started to see a little more frequently thanks to warm spring days, and he’s never been more thankful to Mother Nature or your sun dresses. You swallow hard seeing him lick his lips, heart skipping a beat at the glazed over look in his eyes that makes your chest ache.
You have to leave.
”I — uh, I should go.” You stammer, starting to wiggle off the desk but Steve doesn’t let you get very far.
”Wait! Don’t — “ Standing up, the rest of that sentence fades as his hands find your knees, electric currents running through his finger tips that spread them apart so he can fit his hips between your thighs. His eyes hold you inside of them, hooded and begging before finishing it in a whisper. “Don’t leave.”
The two of you sit there unmoving, mouths so close it feels like you’re breathing each other in. His hands inch up your bare thighs, goosebumps pebbling along hot skin as his fingertips brush the bottom hem of your dress.
”Steve.” You manage to murmur, somehow finding your voice. “It’s a bad idea and you know it.”
The protest sounds weak leaving your mouth, especially when the backs of your heels hook and pull him closer. Your hands grip harder at the edge of the desk, needing something to anchor you while the tip of his nose runs up the bridge of yours. The spice of his cologne wraps around you, and the hint of cinnamon mixed with the amber is new.
“What’s so bad about it? Give me one reason.” He mocks your previous challenge with a flash of his teeth, grabbing at the soft fat under his palms.
”Robin.”
“Well she doesn’t have to know.” He snorts like it’s obvious, wandering hands sliding up higher.
”Okay, then what happens if this blows up in our face and we end up hating each other?” Your argument would feel more valid if you weren’t straightening your spine, getting so close to him that your chests touch.
”You really think you can hate me?” He fake pouts with a furrow of his brows, that infamous swoop of hair tickling your forehead.
”Steve! I’m being serious.” You whine a little defeated because you know you’re about to give in, and because all you want is for him to just kiss you already.
You think he knows that too.
He exhales a breath through his nose, one hand finally becoming bold enough to slip under your dress to wrap around your hip, while the other cups the apple your cheek. The pad of his thumb tilts your chin up to keep your gaze on him, lips so close that they almost touch.
”And what if it doesn’t blow up in our face?” He challenges, letting his top lip graze your bottom. “What happens if we end up really liking each other? What then?”
Your lashes flutter, feeling his warm breath kiss your skin, butterflies rioting inside the crevices of your ribcage. Your fingers let go of their death grip on the edge of the desk, and spread over his stomach. He inhales sharply at the contact, his grip on your hip tightening as your palms work their way up his chest before sliding along his neck and into the thickness of his hair at the nape of it. Steve tugs you closer as your legs wrap around his waist, the tip of your nose nudging his warmed cheek.
”Because I don’t know if you can’t tell or something but I already really like you.” He confesses hot against your mouth with the softest brush of his lips. “I have for a while. And you know what I think?”
”Hmm?” You manage with lust clouding your vision and fingers curling into his roots.
”I think you like me too.”
You don’t bother giving the answer he already knows, instead you close what little distance is left. It takes Steve a moment to realize what you’re doing, that this is actually happening but when he does, he takes control of the kiss immediately. His lips feel hungry moving against yours, devouring you like it’s been a craving, claiming your mouth like it’s already his.
A deep groan rumbles from his chest at the feel of your tongue swiping along his bottom lip. The blunt ends of his nails dig into the soft skin of your hip when he opens up for you and they finally meet. They massage each other moving languid and slow, relishing in the feeling. Back bending, your fingers curl deeper in his roots, somehow needing more.
As if he can read your mind, the pad of his thumb tugs at the corner of your mouth, opening you up more. He explores every inch of you like he’s trying to memorize it, swallowing all the sounds that are somehow better than his imagination. Your hips rock against him, the thin cotton of your panties leaving hardly any barrier. A breathy gasp escapes the back of your throat feeling just how big he really is.
Steve takes this moment to catch his breath, pulling away with a heaving chest. He presses his forehead against yours, eyes taking in your flushed cheeks and kiss bitten lips.
“You know how many times I’ve thought about this?” He sighs, the pad of his thumb stroking your cheek. That permanent teasing edge to his voice is absent for the first time tonight.
His confession erupts across your body that bends for him, silently asking for more all on its own. Holding his gaze in the depths of yours, the pointed roll of your hips is slow enough to feel the entire length of him pressed against his zipper. It twitches underneath the metal, the pressure against your clit only covered by a thin pair of cotton earning him a quiet whimper.
”I think about you all the time, Steve.” You say in a low voice, looking at him from under the thick hood of your lashes, rolling your hips again.
“Honey.” He hisses through his teeth, his grip on you tightening hard enough to hold you still. A shiver ripples through him as he desperately tries to find his self control. “We should stop —“
Your hands untangle from his hair, sliding down his jaw that you hold in your palms. The pad of your thumb traces the curve of his full bottom lip that you want nothing more than to feel between your teeth. He inhales another sharp breath watching the way your eyes darken, his thick lashes fluttering kissing the tops of his cheeks like he can read your mind.
”What if I don’t want to stop?”
All you’ve ever done with Steve is hold yourself back. And now that you’ve had him, you don’t want to do it anymore. You can’t do it anymore.
”I’m tired of not getting what I want.” You reaffirm, tilting your head to meet his eyes, brushing your lips against his kiss bitten ones before whispering, “aren’t you?”
He holds your gaze down the slope of his nose, the hand on your hip moving to wrap around the small of your back pulling you close, while the other trails down to cup the side of your neck. The pad of his thumb rests at the hinge of your jaw, a flurry of emotions swirling inside his stare as he takes everything in, making sure he’s not misreading any signs. It’s not until he feels the quiet way you say his name against his lips that he comes back to his body, snapping out of his nervous lapse in judgement of what’s happening.
”You have no fucking idea.” Steve growls, finally capturing your mouth without anything holding him back anymore.
This kiss is different from the last one, his lips move against yours with something possessive behind them — greedy. Your tongues don’t wait for permission, tangling together with an intensity that has your teeth scraping together. Completely lost in months of late nights and lingering stares, his hand slides down your neck, and across your shoulders bringing your dress strap with it. He finishes his path joining his other hand under your dress, both of them meeting and curling around the apple of your ass. Squeezing harshly, he pulls you closer with a hard slam on the wood of the desk.
Moaning into his mouth, you tug at the collar of his sweater, silently urging him to take it off. He catches on quickly, but struggles to break himself free, obsessed with the taste of you — the feel of you in his hands. It’s the whine that peels itself from the back of your throat and the way you push yourself closer searching for friction that he finally pulls himself away with a suck of your bottom lip. Letting it go with a loud pop, the pout on your face turns his lovesick grin cocky as he plucks the collar of his sweater from the back and tosses it to the side of the studio in one fell swoop.
Your lids grow heavy, eyes glazing over at the thick smattering of hair on his chest. Throat drying up at the sight of his permanently sun kissed skin dotted with mini constellations of freckles and moles that your fingers itch to trace. He runs a hand through his hair, drinking in the sight of you too. The wild look on your face with your dress rucked up around your hips, legs spread revealing the wet patch in the middle of your panties that he’s the culprit of. Both straps dangle loosely off your shoulders, leaving just the red ones of your bra, the swell of your breasts teasing him.
“Jesus, I knew you were gonna ruin me.” He mutters to himself in disbelief, slowly walking back to his place between your legs.
His hands trail up your thighs, squeezing at the soft dough under your dress appreciatively with lick of his lips, before curling his fingers around the elastic. It’s the only thing left keeping him from a part of you he’s thought about more times than he’d ever admit.
“Tell me what you want.” He breathes against your lips, brows furrowed with need.
Your fingers find their way to his belt, expertly undoing the gold buckle before popping open the button and tugging down the zipper of his jeans. He hisses at the release as you lift your head, capturing his mouth in something so sure there’s no room left to argue, pulling away just enough to whisper.
”You.”
That’s all Steve needs, yanking your panties down in one swift motion, capturing your lips as he does the same with the straps of your dress. It pools around your lap, just like his jeans do at his feet. Kicking them off along with his shoes, he grabs one of your legs hitching it over his waist, pointedly running his hard covered length along your wet seam. You both moan into each other's mouths at the contact, your fingers tangling in his hair, anchoring yourself to him as he licks into you, rolling his hips again.The way your slick instantly wets the fabric of his briefs makes it feel like he’s teasing himself too.
”I don’t — I don’t have a condom.” He murmurs, using all of his strength to pull away with panic set in his eyes like maybe he’s ruined this whole thing.
Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you let one of your hands slide down his chest, greedily scratching your nails along the dark hair there, before following it down his happy trail. The muscles in his stomach twitch, along with his cock that only grows bigger when you cup it, and the feeling of just how thick he is has you squirming at the thought of making it fit.
“I’m on birth control.” You admit quietly, your fingers dipping into the waist band of his underwear, the tips of them running along his pelvic bone.
”Jesus Christ.” Steve’s eyes pinch closed, the grip on your leg tightening to something almost bruising.
”Is that okay? Do you want to —“
“Yes, yes, god yes, that's okay.” He interrupts with an enthusiastic nod of his head.
Bend bending down, he claims your lips again as your greedy hands push his boxers past his hips. Your touch is tentative wrapping around the weight of him, but the moan you get in return is loud enough to echo off the glass encasing you, encouraging you forward. The first pump has him shuddering underneath your palm, a big hand grabbing your chin, using it to tilt your head to the side. He takes your slow torture out on the base of your throat in the form of open mouthed kisses, dragging his teeth along your pulse point that jumps for him.
“Steve you’re so - you’re so -“
He flattens his tongue, licking a path that has your eyes roll back, killing off the rest of that sentence by latching onto that sensitive spot behind your ear and sucking hard. It’s replaced by a breathy whine that comes out at the same time the pad of your thumb swipes against his leaking tip. He grunts into your neck, hips bucking into your touch.
“I know baby, I know.” He murmurs into your ear, nipping at the lobe before enveloping it into the heat of his mouth, letting it go with a loud pop. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, I promise.”
The endearment has your legs spread wider in a silent plea to keep his word. He smiles wide against your skin, sneaking his hand between you to replace yours that go back to their new home in the hair at the nape of his neck. You decide it’s your favorite place. He pulls away enough for your noses to bump, blown out wild looking eyes meeting yours before they drop down to a view he’s only ever imagined. His mind didn’t even come close to doing it justice.
”Fuuuuck.” He groans to himself, face twisting into something tortured, swiping himself through your glistening folds with another shudder ripping through his spine. “You’re so wet, honey.”
Steve says the last part almost like he can’t believe it, like there’s no world where you’d want him just as bad as he wants you. But when he does it again and you mewl in a way that sounds just as desperate, he knows it's true.
“You’re not the only one who’s wanted this for a long time.” You confess a little shy despite your current position, softening his features with the kind of smile that feels a lot like he’s already smitten.
The pad of his thumb on the hand still wrapped around your hitched leg traces circles on the goose pebbled skin underneath it.
“Yeah?” He sighs, eyes turning heavy bringing himself close enough to fit at your entrance. “Let’s make up for lost time then.”
Your fingers weave tighter in his hair, forehead pressing to his with a slack jaw at the first stretch of your walls. It feels like he’s everywhere, filling you so much as if he has nowhere else to go even though he’s only half way in.
”Oh my god, Steve, you feel — holy shit.” You pant, pulling at his roots so hard you know it hurts as he pushes himself to the hilt with one final stroke.
”You’re doing so good though, look at you.” His praise comes out against your lips, the tip of his nose nudging against your cheek. He feels the way his words tighten around him, a new wave of arousal coating every ridge and dip.
Steve gives you a minute to adjust to the size, only starting to move when you lean forward to steal a messy kiss. Desperation evident in the encouraging swipe of your tongue. He starts off slow, rolling his hips in languid strokes that match the way he licks into your mouth basking in the little noises escaping from the back of your throat. It’s not until you nip at his bottom lip that he lets go the way he really wants too.
Breaking away from your lips, he brings his attention to your face, needing to see the way it twists up when he pulls nearly all the way out before slamming himself back in. Your eyes go wide at the feeling, the silk of your walls fluttering, begging him for more that he gives without any hesitation. His palm finds it way back to your cheek that has to be searing against his skin, collecting your mouth again with a hunger that’s easy to lose yourself in.
He keeps a steady pace, hiking your leg further up his hip, somehow going even deeper. The tip of him hits the spot that no one else has ever been able to find, earning a loud moan of his name that he thinks sounds best when it comes from you. Using the opportunity that presents itself to him, he starts a path of open mouth kisses down your jaw, along your neck, gently pushing you back to lay against the desk, peppering them across your collar bone.
The new angle has you trying to cover the scream that's begging to fill the empty studio, and Steve keeps going. Tugging down your bra, sucks your pert nipple into the heat of his mouth. Your back arches, nails dinging into his shoulders when he brings his attention to the other one with a flick of his tongue.
“Perfect, you’re perfect.” Groaning his praise against your skin, he licks a stripe up your sternum before nipping at the curve of your breast.
Steve stands up straight, bringing his hands to your hips stretching you out even more. His eyes take in your heaving chest, dark eyes, and skin shining wet from the work of his mouth and he thinks he might cum right now.
”You ready for more, pretty girl?” He coos with the softest grind of hips, lips twitching at the way your eyes hit the back of your head because of it.
”Please.” You beg, finding the strength to look at him from underneath your lashes.
Your stare breaks any self control he might have left, the first snap of his hips pushing you further up the desk, sending some of the eight tracks clattering to the ground.
“Oh my god.” You cry out, grabbing onto his forearms. The blunt ends of your nails digging into his freckles when he does it again.
”You feel so fucking good.” He grits out between his teeth, the grip on your curves turning bruising as his head rolls back lost in the silk of your walls that keep sucking him in every time he tries to leave.
His praise makes your hips meet the next roll of his, sending another flurry of cuss words spilling out of his mouth, that turn into your name the more you keep up with his pace. Tugging you back to the edge of the desk, he folds over you, palms finding purchase on either side of your head.
That swoop of hair tickles damp against your forehead, his face contouring into something dazed watching the way you try to catch your breath. The quick grind of his hips punches the air out of your lungs with every thrust, the thick thatch of hair at the base of your demise rubbing against your clit with just the right of pressure.
You know you're not going to last much longer as the heels of your feet dig into his ass pushing him deeper. He grunts into your mouth, collecting a sloppy kiss rolling his hips in a circle, the tip of him pushing right against the spot you need him most.
“Come on, honey, let go. I know you want to. Let me finally make you feel good.” He murmurs encouragingly, grabbing both your wrists and pinning them above your head, sending a notebook and some pens flying to the ground.
The new position tightens the coil deep inside your gut tight enough to snap, your walls constricting around him as you tumble over the edge with nothing but his name spilling from your lips. Seeing something he’s only ever daydreamed about in the dead of night sends him flying right after you. He lets go of your hands catching himself on the desk, body shaking with a loud groan rumbling from his chest painting your insides with months of wanting you so much that it aches in his chest.
He keeps up the slow grind of his hips until you both come back down, with goofy love sick smiles twisting up your lips. You giggle when he nudges his nose with yours, getting a blinding flash of his white teeth in return.
“What?” Amusement dances in his eyes, brushing the apple of your cheek with the back of his hand.
”This just isn’t where I imagined it would finally happen is all.” You grin, leaning into his touch. “So out in the open.”
”It’s not like anyone’s here —“
”Steve, look, I’m sorry.” The sound of Robin’s voice echoes out through the empty station.
”Oh fuck me.” He yells in a whisper, wide panicked eyes meeting yours before dropping to the ground out of sight. You try your best to adjust your bra and dress into place.
“You know I hate when we figh— oh.” Robin stops in her tracks in the common room, confusion painting her features taking in your disheveled look and the lack of Steve in the room.
“H-hey!” You squeak out, voice cracking and she narrows her gaze at it.
”Where’s Steve?” She asks, the question coming out slowly in that suspicious kind of way.
”Uh - he uh - he went to the bathroom.” You offer, scratching the back of your neck while the man in question scrambles to get his clothes back on at your feet.
Tilting her head to the side, she squints at you clearly not believing a word coming out of your mouth. Realization dawns on her features, annoyance replacing any confusion that was left.
”You have got to be kidding me!” She throws up her hands, “Steve I know you’re there. You guys suck at lying.”
”Shit.” Steve mutters, pulling on his shirt before slowly standing up, buckling his belt with a sheepish smile.
”Hey.” He waves, running a hand through his damp hair.
pairing: steve harrington x fem reader
summary: after working together for a few months, it was safe to say that you hated steve harrington. so why can you only get off if you're thinking about him?
wc: 3.1k
warnings: explicit 18+ (minors dni), enemies to lovers, masturbation (f), dirty talk, semi-public sex
Steve Harrington had the most obnoxious laugh you’d ever heard.
It bellowed. Made the walls around you feel smaller, and the floor beneath your feet vibrate as his obscene mop of hair fell backward as his head tipped back, projecting the sound that made the hairs on your arm stand even further through the room.
Everyone in high school, and everyone after high school, simply couldn’t shut up about how perfect his hair was. What was really so perfect about it? Sure, it was always perfectly styled, it was thick and always looked pretty soft. But it was hair.
Whenever his eyes would catch your own across the room, it would make your stomach flip. His big, hazel orbs practically staring into your soul, enough to make you believe that he could read every thought running through your mind. And when his lip curled upward, tugging into that smirk that made your knees weaken with anger, it drove you insane.
It was safe to say, you hated Steve Harrington.
So why can you only get off when you’re thinking about him?
It started not long after he started working with you at WSQK. You’d been working there for a few months before, assisting the public broadcast of the Morning Squawk. When Tony told you that he’d be leaving and Robin Buckley was his replacement, you were looking forward to it.
You’d had a few classes with Robin in high school, had only spoken with her a handful of times but when you told your friends you’d be working with her, they only had good things to say. So, you were excited to be working alongside Robin each morning.
That was until Steve Harrington was in tow behind her.
Just the sight of him in that goddamn cable knit sweater was enough for your blood to boil. His easy smile and tight wave as he introduced himself to you like you didn’t go to high school together for four years was enough to ensure that steam was shooting out of both your ears.
In high school, you paid Steve no mind. You ran in different circles and you never had a conversation long enough with him to even form an opinion on him. After you’d graduated, you’d been served by him a few times at Scoops Ahoy and even rented a movie from him in Family Video.
When he started working with you, invading your space entirely, you couldn’t escape him. His laugh, his hair, his eyes, his smile. He was everywhere. Every corner you turned at the station, every time you’d excuse yourself to make a coffee. And if you couldn’t see him, you could hear him.
So it was no surprise that you inevitably began taking work home with you. You’d find yourself thinking about him when a song would play on your walkman that he’d queued at the station, or thinking about him when you were watching a movie that he’d quoted the week before.
It became concerning one late Sunday night. You had the house to yourself as your roommate was out of town, you’d sank a bottle of red wine and had a bubble bath. So when you crawled into bed that night, there was only one thing on your mind.
You aimlessly threw your hand into your nightstand, rummaging around for your vibrator. As it began buzzing in your hand, you let your eyes flutter shut to drift to whatever fantasy dreamland that your brain was needing that night.
As you dragged the tip of the toy up your dampening slit, your thighs parted for it easily. Your back arched from the mattress as the buzz glided through your folds with ease, inching closer and closer to where you needed it the most.
You couldn’t place when, or how, or why, but as soon as the toy found your clit, all you could think about was Steve. Steve’s mouth, Steve’s hands, Steve’s thighs, Steve’s neck.
Steve holding your thighs open as he delved his fingers inside of you, Steve’s hot breath on your neck as you moaned out his name, Steve’s grip on your hips as his heavy cock bullied inside of you, Steve crying out your name as his thrusts deepened into your cunt with each roll of his hips.
Before you knew it, your orgasm had hit you, and it had hit you harder than any orgasm you’d ever given yourself before.
Every time after that, you tried your absolute hardest to think about literally anything or anyone else, but you were met with no mercy. You found yourself seeking out your toy more just to think about Steve, just to imagine him panting sweet nothings into your ear as you gave yourself your third orgasm of the night.
Seeing him at work the next day was always strange. You were certain that he and Robin both knew that you weren’t his biggest fan, seeing as you weren’t always the best at hiding your facial expressions.
But he always tried with you. He’d show up every morning with a coffee waiting especially for you in your favourite mug, he’d line up songs that you’d always hum along to, he’d even offer to drop you home after the broadcast. You always denied.
On this particular Thursday evening, you had nothing else to do. Your roommate was at work, your friends all had plans, so you thought you’d head over to the Squawk to get some work done. Organise some of the new shipments of vinyl you’d had in this week, give the coffee machine a well needed clean, maybe you’d even mop the floor. Maybe.
The station was quiet when you let yourself in, the large room welcoming you in feeling even more lonely than normal knowing that nobody was here. You strolled into the place either way, flicking on the lights with you as you went.
You circled into the booth, setting your bag down on the chair that Robin used each morning. You started off your evening giving the booth a general tidy, humming along to the Prince album that you’d just put on to keep you company.
After you’d tidied the booth, organised the new shipment, cleaned the breakroom, sorted out some crap in the office and even restocked the toilet roll in the bathrooms. You were entirely wiped out, not expecting to have been keeping yourself busy for almost three hours.
You padded across the checkerboard flooring, slumping down on the couch beneath you. Your head lulled back against the back of the plush head rest, your body relaxing into the seat as you gazed up at the ceiling.
It could’ve been the fact that getting yourself off to Steve Harrington was becoming a part of your nightly routine, or the fact that you were in an environment where you swear you could feel him near you, you couldn’t stop your palm as it drifted across your thigh.
You did hesitate as your fingertips grazed your stomach, you couldn’t touch yourself on the couch where you work, right? You’d be here in nine hours, clocking in for your shift, staring right at the couch where you’d brought yourself to orgasm standing right next to Steve, completely unaware of the fact that it was all his fault.
But the thought of standing next to Steve must’ve decided your actions for you, because before you knew it, your hand had dipped beneath your soaked underwear.
Your back arched against the green fabric as your hips rolled up against your hand, the tips of your fingers collecting your arousal on them to spread them through your folds. Your spare hand slipped beneath your cotton shirt, palming at your breasts over your bra as you sighed in pleasure.
The slick sound of your fingers curling into yourself was filling up the emptiness surrounding you, tight whines and moans inching from your throat as the ball of your hand brushed against your clit.
“F–Fuck. Oh– Steve–” You panted as your fingers tweaked at your hardened nipples, tugging on the buds through the fabric of your bra as you dipped another finger into your dripping cunt.
“What the fuck?” You heard from the other side of the room, causing you to lift your head up in panic to see Steve standing a few metres away from you.
You were quick to pull your hand out from between your thighs, your hand that was under your shirt dropping to the couch to push yourself up. Your head was spinning, feeling so dizzy that you could’ve thrown up right then and there.
“Steve, I’m so– This is not what it–” You started, your words tumbling out like a landslide as he crossed the room slowly. As he got closer, you felt your throat tightening. His eyes that would look at you with such kindness were now dark. “Steve, I’m sorry.”
He shook his head gently, his palm coming up to rub across his chin gently as his other hand grabbed the back of one of the chairs that sat adjacent to the couch, pulling it behind him and dropping into it only a few feet in front of you. “Wh– Were you.. Thinking about me?”
You parted your lips to speak, your fingers digging into the plush beneath you as you looked at him. His brows were furrowed slightly, his eyes trying their hardest to keep locked on your own as your chest was heaving gently, your body still reacting to being pulled from the brink of your climax.
“I mean,” You shifted uncomfortably under his question, lifting a hand to push your hair over your shoulder as you pulled your eyes to look anywhere else. “Like, only just now. ‘Cause I’m here, you know.”
“I thought you hated me.” Steve’s voice was quieter now, and when you looked up at him you almost felt bad. That you’d been acting so stand offish toward him when he’d only been trying to be your friend. If you really thought about it, why did you hate him?
A soft sigh left your lips as you shook your head, your tongue running across your lower lip to wet it, your mouth suddenly running dry. “No. I don’t hate you, Steve–”
“Well, clearly,” He bit with a short laugh. His eyes squinted slightly as he leant back in his chair, one arm coming up to lean over the back of it as the other lifted to motion toward you, “So, are you gonna finish for me then?”
Your eyes widened at his question. You should bite his head off, slap him and call him an asshole. But the part of you that hasn’t been able to get him off of your mind for the last however long, was screaming at you to say yes.
“What, you wanna watch?” You asked, copying Steve by leaning into the back of the couch. You watched as his mouth curved into a smirk, followed by a smug shrug of his shoulder.
“I think if you’re moaning my name I should at least get a front row viewing.” He quipped, finally letting his eyes drag over your body. Your legs parted again without even thinking, you watched his throat bob as your fingers slipped to the zipper of your jeans that you didn’t bother finishing before.
You kept your eyes on him as your shaky fingers dragged the zipper down, wasting no time in lifting up your hips to tug them down your thighs. You lifted your legs to pull them off of your ankles, letting them drop to the floor between you.
“You alright over there?” You teased as Steve’s eyes struck between your legs, glued to the dampened spot on your underwear. He cleared his throat gently, nodding as your fingers wrapped around the band of your panties.
Any thoughts of doubt about undressing in front of Steve fled your mind as soon as the look on his face melted at the sight of you bearing yourself for him. Your hips lifted again to pull your underwear off of you, letting them fall down your ankles to kick them toward Steve.
A small laugh huffed your lips as your white panties landed on Steve’s shoulder. He was quick to retrieve them, grabbing the fabric and taking a moment to inspect them before realising that the show in front of him was beginning.
Your legs had fallen apart again, this time carelessly as your palm flattened against your mound. Your hand leant forward, your middle finger dipping between your swollen lips. A gasp passed your lips at the touch, the tip of your finger pooling at your entrance before working it back through your folds.
“Fuck,” Steve croaked as he watched you. He lifted his arm from the back of the chair, inching ever so slightly closer as he held the damp fabric in his hand. “You’re so fucking wet.”
A tight sigh passed your lips at your observation, nodding softly as your finger slipped up to your clit. You traced tight circles around it, your back arching into your own touch as your eyes were glued to him. It was like all your dreams had come true, every night you’d fucked yourself to sleep at the thought of him and now he was right here in front of you.
“God–” He sighed, his hips shifting beneath him as your eyes fell to the bulge now eagerly peaking in the tight denim of his jeans. “I bet you taste so good.”
Your teeth sank into your lower lip, your cunt fluttering at his words as you toyed with your clit. Your fingers slipped lower, two of them shallowly slipping into your entrance before coaxing them out. You lifted up your hand, using the two glistening fingers to coax him forward.
“Find out then, Harrington.” You panted gently, your other hand slipping to the cotton of your t-shirt to hike it upward, pulling the black lace of your bra down to toy with your aching nipples.
Steve practically leapt forward, his large palm wrapping around your wrist. His eyes locked onto your own as his tongue left his lips to twirl around your middle and ring finger, not wanting to miss a single drop as he wrapped his lips around them. The sound of him sucking your juices from your fingers was obscene, you swore that you heard him whimper as he pulled his lips from your wet fingers with a pop.
“Jesus Christ,” He mumbled as you pulled your hand back, instantly falling back between your legs. Your breath hitched as your fingers now wet with his spit slipped perfectly against your cunt. “Go on, honey. Make yourself come for me.”
Your head rolled back into the back of the sofa as your fingers sank back inside of you. The slick sound of your cunt swallowing your fingers filling up the room, along with your heavy pants as your hand slipped from your chest to between your legs.
As your finger slipped against your swollen and slick clit, your legs spread further as your hips began rocking up into your hand, desperate for your fingers to reach the spot inside of you that you were so desperately searching for.
“God, I bet you’re wishing that was my cock, huh?” Steve’s voice brought you back to earth, your head snapping up to look at him as his own eyes were glued between your legs. You nodded desperately, your cries of pleasure hitting decibels you’d never reached before.
Steve looked like he was ready to pounce on you, his palms bracing against his thighs as his hips rocked up into nothing. You were surprised that he hadn’t started touching himself, you just figured he was too focused on you to think about anything else.
The thought of Steve jerking his cock watching you was almost too much, you could feel yourself inching closer to your climax as your cunt tightened around your fingers.
“Steve– I’m coming– Fuck.” You cried out, your thighs trembling beneath you as your fingers bullied into your pussy. Steve leant forward, his palms holding onto either of your knees to ground you.
“That’s it, honey. Come for me, please, come for me.” He practically growled, his fingers tenderly rubbing back and forth against your hot skin despite the lewd sounds of your fingers pummeling into your slick, soaked cunt.
You nodded at his words as your back arched once more, your finger rubbing tight circles on your clit slipping as your brain mulled over, your vision dazing as you heard Steve’s chair inching closer toward you.
A loud, tight moan whined past your lips as your stomach coiled, letting yourself succumb to your pleasure as you came for Steve. You couldn’t slow your fingers down as they curled into you, stroking into that perfect spot inside of you that because of Steve, you’d become all too familiar with.
“Such a good girl, baby.” He mumbled as he watched your hips writhe against your hand, his palms keeping your legs spread despite the pull inside of you attempting to clamp them around your hand.
You were breathless as you pulled your fingers out of your throbbing cunt. Steve braced his grip on you, inching up from his chair to lean up to you – to kiss you – but you lifted your wet fingers up to his mouth.
He sighed as your fingers slipped past his lips, despite the squint of his eye that you’d swerved his kiss, he happily lapped at your digits. He hummed around you, his voice mumbled by them. “Perfect girl with a perfect pussy, hm? Taste so good.”
Your teeth sank into your lower lip, your other hand flattening against the couch to push yourself up against the back of it. Your eyes darted between each of his as you pulled your fingers out from his mouth, lifting them to push through his hair.
“Was that a good enough show for you?” You teased gently, swallowing thickly as Steve’s hands left your knees to press into the cushion that sat beneath you. He leant in closer, almost caging you in as he hovered over you.
“Best show I’ve ever seen,” He laughed softly, earning a small one from you as your eyes trailed over the moles on his cheeks that you’d thought of each night, trailed over the glisten of your come on his lips before he whispered gently. “Are you gonna let me kiss you now? Or do you still hate me?”
Your words caught in your throat, a small smirk tugging against your lips as you lifted your other hand to hold the side of his neck as he continued to lean over you until your neck was resting against the back of the couch.
After taking in a short breath, you leant in. And when his lips finally brushed your own, that familiar feeling of your stomach flipping and the hair on your arms raising that he’d cursed over you had an entirely different meaning.
Maybe you didn’t hate Steve, maybe what they say is right. It’s an awfully thin line between love and hate.
oh i am SO excited about this one. it's been too long since i've written for our boy steve 🫶
#94 - "JUDAS" BY LADY GAGA
“I couldn't love a man so purely, even prophets forgave his goofy way. I've learned love is like a brick, you can build a house or sink a dead body."
warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), fem!reader (or at least mentions of wearing lip gloss and a dress), use of whore as an insult, sort of enemies to lovers? sort of forbidden love? honestly the plot is only half-baked i just wanted porn. 18+, minors dni.
wc: 2.8k+
“If your daddy finds out about this, he’ll kill us both.”
It’s spoken through muffled syllables, lips tight against your neck as you feel his stubble scratching the sensitive surface of your skin.
Your hand travels up, fingers combing through soft and wavy hair as you whisper out, “If he finds out, and he won’t.”
Bold words and sharp assumptions given your current predicament. Steve Harrington, heir to the Harrington Estate, hovering over your body. The son of the man your father hates most in the world, and he’s currently spinning a secret language across every inch of your bare skin. A painting of harsh kisses and fading teeth marks, his hands gripping every inch of the forbidden enemy below him.
The weight of him against the center of your pelvis is almost heavier than the weight of all the choices leading you up to this moment.
How many times had you been warned to play nice as the two of you had been raised in the same shark-infested waters? How many forced smiles had been almost-politely exchanged at galas? How many times had your mother rambled on about how that Harrington boy was nothing but trouble?
Not enough times, apparently, as your mother’s voice is the last on your mind as your nails scratch slowly down the center of Steve’s back, relishing the way he shivers and twitches under your dancing touch.
“What would they say if they saw you like this?” he chuckles, lifting his head to look you in your eyes, a gentle hand coming up to caress a line from your temple and down your cheek, “Their little princess, consorting with the enemy’s son?”
All the late nights spent listening to your father pace and complain about the Harrington business being in competition with his own. All the cursed names under the sun spit out in lieu of their actual names, muttered during late dinner arrivals.
“What about your parents, hm?” you sigh out, letting your palms press flat against his bare chest, running up to wrap shaking fingers around his throat. Not quite choking him, but simply a warning: if you wanted to, you could press the cherry red of your nail deeper into his skin. Draw blood, leave a mark. You won’t, but you could. “Their little golden boy, upstairs and on his knees for the little whore of the party.”
His eyes widen. Clearly, no one had realized you’d overheard Claire Harrington’s comment when your family had entered the current gathering buzzing below.
He rolls his eyes, “My mother’s a prude. Any woman wearing any dress above the knees is a whore.”
He returns to all his mitigations, his plump lips fiery against your skin as they continue on their previous trail. Over your jugular, across your collarbones, settling into your sternum. Entirely unbothered and still focused on one thing only.
“You’re right,” you breathe out wistfully, leaning your head back, a smug grin overtaking your face as he trails lower, “Besides, you’re not even on your knees yet.”
“I could be.”
He moves quickly, uncaring in his actions as he fumbles to lift up off the bed. The expensive comforter behind your back twists and scrunches in protest as he drops down to the ground, knees landing hard enough that it surely had to hurt. His hands grip your hips through the entire process, dragging you right with him until your legs are fully off the bed and your clothed center dangles right at the edge of the mattress.
“Is this how you want me, honey?” he grins up at you, shaking thighs bracketing each side of a shadowed face, all intentions twisting into something sinister by the dim lighting, “On my knees, begging for you?”
“I do. But I don’t hear much begging, Harrington.”
Sinister no longer covers it once the initial shock wears off.
“Oh?” he hums, hands creeping up your legs. His fingers tap against your ankle before sliding up a few paces, the rhythm going steady as his palms travel up, up, up. “Allow me to fix that, baby.”
His fingers dig into the meat of your upper thighs, tugging you even closer. You have no choice but to throw your arms out behind you as you partially collapse backwards, your entire body now shaking as you keep yourself held up to be aligned with his mouth. Every breath, almost mimicking laughs as he baits you, fans across the wet spot forming at the center of your lace crotch.
“Please,” he breathes out just as his nose presses against your mound, taking a deep breath, “Please, let me just taste you, honey. I bet you’re so sweet, so sweet,” you let out a little gasp, hips bucking a bit at his expert words, “You like that, yeah? You gonna be sweet for me, honey? Gotta live up to that pretty little name, don’t you?”
He knows how to get you riled up. He knows every string that laces your entire body, how to tighten and how to cut them loose. He’s had plenty of time to mesmerize this dance – a dozen different galas before to pull you into empty rooms, a hundred different nights to sneak away to indulge in you under pseudo names in the nicest hotels a few towns over. He can anticipate every jerk of your hips when his lips start to brush over your clit, even with fabric keeping his skin from yours. He knows which hand needs to keep a firm grip on your thigh, massaging it slowly as his thumb brushes closer and closer to the sensitive inner skin. His free arm works on autopilot as he throws it across your hips, planting you flat to the mattress as you mew out and he presses his tongue flatly against your weeping slit.
His spit, your wetness. It all becomes the same within the intricate lace pattern separating him from your cunt currently.
“I can taste it already, you know,” he keeps up the sweet talk and you feel his grin as he lets his cheek rest against your inner thigh, fluttering his lashes up at you, “Are you this easy for every golden boy walking around downstairs, pockets stuffed full of daddy’s money?”
The gala downstairs. You had entirely forgotten, transported into only this moment here and now with Steve.
Both your families, undoubtedly avoiding each other like the plague. His mother still gossiping about how short she thinks your dress is, your father snickering about the lacking details in Arthur Harrington’s suit. Bitter champagne on the tongue and even more bitter feelings on the brain.
Your father would kill you if he knew what you were doing up here.
Fraternizing with the supposed enemy.
“Golden boy?” you gasp out, trying to swallow down any desire. It’s a useless battle. “And what’s so golden about you right now? All the hickeys I left on your neck, or that wet spot on your pants from how excited you’re getting at just the sight of me?”
You don’t tell him how you’ve never taken an interest in any of the other sons of other supposed empires. You don’t mention how the rest of them hardly got more than a scoff from you all these years.
You don’t tell him how he’s become your one and only betrayal to the blood running through your veins.
He surprises you with a smack to the cunt.
“I don’t remember you being so mouthy during the last charity event.”
Your head rolls back with your laughter, “Guess I’m just in a mood tonight.”
“Is that so?” he questions, voice almost singing as he reaches up to the waistband of your panties. One finger hooks between it and your skin, pulling it out taut from your skin, “Guess that makes two of us.”
The snap after he lets go can be heard only in this room, only between these four walls. It’s sure to leave a mark.
“God,” it’s meant to be a groan of annoyance, but it’s more of a whine that leaves your glossy lips, “Just put your goddamn money where your mouth is or I swear to fucking God-”
Steve Harrington is many things. A brat, a golden boy, a nepo-baby to the highest degree just like yourself.
And he’s also an excellent listener.
You don’t feel his fingers tearing through the side strips of your underwear – all you suddenly feel is the slightest of cool breezes, and then his hot mouth on you.
Eager, wanting, patient. Within seconds, his tongue’s mitigations go through a myriad of options, and he’s more in tune with your body than you are yourself. He finds the pace you need quickly, finds the pressure and just how much enthusiasm would be your deal breaker tonight. Long and steady strides from slit to clit, firm but gentle with you as he tugs you nearly off the mattress and right onto his waiting lips. A dog at your windowsill, offering all he can give as he laps at you. A man on his knees, worshiping a divinity beyond comprehension.
Familiar politics no longer matter when he’s slipping two fingers into you and curling them harshly, lips locked around your sensitive clit.
“Mmm,” he hums against you, nuzzling even further against your heat. As if he might be able to bury himself there. As if he might be able to force you to feel his sudden devotion from the press of his nose against your sensitive bundle of nerves, “I was right.”
You open your mouth to answer, but all that comes out is a whimper as your hands try to snake down for his hair once more.
Right about what?
A silent question he must hear from your breathless begging for more.
“Sweeter than I remember,” he mumbles, unable to stop himself from beginning to kiss your cunt, tongue flicking out and making your body jump, “Always so sweet for me, baby.”
Your back arches at every curl of his fingers, legs somehow thrown over his shoulders in the daze until your heels are digging into his back. You need him closer, you want him closer.
There’s no such thing as too close. Not when he worships you like this.
Reciting prayers as his tongue circles your clit, raising you to a precipice that should damn your bloodline. When he has you teetering on the edge like this, it’s hard to not remember the thrill of it all. If someone, anyone, were to walk in and catch the two of you – you both lose everything.
He’s worth it. When he has you falling over the edge, body washed over in ecstasy only thought to exist in Heaven, he’s worth the damnation.
You don’t try to muffle the chants of his name as your hips jerk in rhythm with his tongue as you both ride out your high.
“Jesus,” you gasp out one final curse, still tasting his name on your tongue as your body falls limp against the mattress.
It takes Steve a second to crawl back up next to you, his knees surely sore as he grins, “Not quite. Steve, or Harrington, or golden boy will do just fine.”
You open your mouth, unsure if you even have energy left within your buzzing mind for a snarky retort, when a heavy knock sounds at the door.
“Hey, who’s in here? Upstairs is meant to be off-limits!”
You panic as Steve only rolls his eyes, turning his head towards the door as you try to sit up and find your discarded panties, still unaware that your golden boy had ripped them off.
“It’s Harrington!” Steve calls back, voice unwavering, “I’ll be down in a minute.”
His name works like magic.
No retorts, no further risk of trouble. There’s a whisper of some grumbles, and then receding footsteps, and still no sign of your panties.
“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, looking on the bed wildly, “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Are you lying on my panties? Move-”
You’re cut off by his snickers.
“What’s so fucking funny, Harrington?” you whisper harshly, standing with your arms crossed and glare set on the boy with a bit of wetness still shimmering on his chin. “Did you hide them, you asshole? Because if you did-”
“I ripped them, honey.”
Your arms drop immediately, a sharp breath taken, “Excuse me?”
“I,” he sits up, “Ripped,” he’s back on his knees, scooting across the bed, “Them.”
He stops just short of your reach, boyish charm radiating with smug satisfaction.
He has a nice smile. If it weren’t the anger simmering in your chest at finding out that he’d ripped one of your nicest pairs of lingerie, you might even tell him that.
“Fuck you,” you spit out. Or at least, you mean to. It’s more of a cross between spitting venom and a sigh of surrender.
He has a really, really nice smile.
“Later,” he laughs back, finally standing from the bed, pulling scraps of lace fabric out of his pocket just enough for you to catch sight of, “For now, we’ve got to go show our pretty faces downstairs, yeah?”
He has a nice laugh, too.
“What about my underwear?” you scoff, pulling down your dress until it brushes the top of your knees anyways.
“Only whores have panty lines. I saved you another snarky comment from my mother, if anything.”
He’s nice. He pisses you off, he infuriates you, but he makes you feel nice. It’s not just the afterglow of the orgasm he’s given you without any demand of returning the favor, it’s not just the glint in his eyes as he teases you and shoves his hands shyly in his pockets.
There’s a flash of something more in the air between you. A time and place where you met and your fathers weren’t at each other’s throats. An existence where you meet him out at some overcrowded bar rather than extravagant ballrooms, and you’d never heard of his last name until he tells it to you on a third date. A world where you bring him home and your parents' only first impression is all his charm that he puts into overdrive during dinner, no whispered rumors over wine tainting the image before them.
A lifetime where Steve Harrington is merely a salvation, and not also a sin.
“You’re right,” you smoothly reply, even if the words choke you. The invisible smoke only you clearly see between you and the boy who couldn’t be nice, who couldn’t be a simple salvation despite the way he elevates you to godhood time and time again. “You are buying me a new pair of those, though, Harrington.”
You almost say his name the way you would in that make believe space that isn’t quite here, isn’t quite now. Where a name is just a name.
“I’ll have them wrapped up with a bow and everything for you next time… honey.”
He almost says your name instead of some lewd nickname in place of what has been taught to be venomous to him.
He opens the door like a gentleman, he instructs you to return to the main showroom, he advises you to grab a glass of champagne to excuse the flush in your cheeks. No crowded bars, no proper dinners with your parents, no third dates.
It all evaporates like smoke and mirrors as you join your parents’ sides downstairs, tugging at the bottom seam of your dress and grabbing a crystal flute with a forced smile. You don’t even turn to look in the direction of his descent when he also joins his family.
But salvation remains. Even when faced with the reminder of damnation by the look on your father’s face.
“Can you believe that boy?” he gruffly asks, glaring in their direction, “Just waltzing back in here, like he hadn’t rudely disappeared for a good thirty minutes. Those Harringtons know no manners, I tell you.”
You hum in lackluster agreement, studying the rim of your glass, ignoring the twist in your chest.
“Where did you run off to, though, honey?” the nickname makes your back straighten up, memories of chills running up your spine as you glance up at your father suddenly.
“Oh, no where,” you flail a hand about, keeping steady breathing, playing an act you’ve rehearsed a million times, “I’d just heard a rumor that the Richardson’s garden fountains were larger than ours, and had to see for myself.”
“Were they?”
They have no idea.
“Not even close,” you laugh. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your laughter has attracted the attention of a certain pair of warm brown eyes and wavy brown hair, set with hidden devotion only privy in private rooms. “What did I miss?”
Steve was right. If your father ever did find out, he was going to kill you both.
⋆˚꩜｡pairing: eddie x bff!fem!reader
⋆˚꩜｡summary: After three months of listening to your best friend brag about the size of his dick, you finally decide to call his bluff.
⋆˚꩜｡tags/tw: explicit sexual content 18+ minors do not interact | no y/n, afab!fem!reader, best friends to lovers, alcohol use, light praise kink, unprotected p in v, eddie is a cocky mf, i think that’s all?
⋆˚꩜｡word count: 4.8k+
⋆˚꩜｡a/n: loosely inspired by this post right here, that has been sitting for literal years in my likes lol hope this is readable x // still on my writing break! just wanted to drop this<3
Eddie Munson was the bane of your fucking existence.
He was too loud, always yelling or laughing directly into your ear until it rang for the rest of the night. He was kind of disgusting too, forever burping in your face or wearing the same dirty socks because he’d forgotten to do the laundry again. He was annoying in every sense of the word. In fact, if you looked up annoyance in the dictionary, you’d literally find a picture of him grinning proudly at the camera.
Unfortunately, you’d grown more than used to all of it, considering he’d also been your best friend for years.
Although, lately, you’d been seriously considering giving him a different title instead. Best asshole. Best cocky motherfucker. Best creep.
Those last two had a nice ring to them, actually.
Especially considering that, ever since he’d lost his virginity three months ago, he’d developed an insufferable habit of flashing you that smug, sideways grin while going on and on about how big his dick supposedly was.
“I’m serious, sweetheart.” He leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself as his gaze dragged lazily over you before settling on your face again. “There’s no way someone like you could fit it.”
Ignoring the second glance he snuck down your cleavage as you leaned over the pool table, you lined up your shot with steady hands and fixed your eyes on the cue ball.
“What do you want me to say, Eddie?”
You pressed the tip of your tongue against the inside of your cheek as the cue brushed over your knuckles while you drew it back, just enough to steady the swing.
“Congratulations?”
The stick slid forwards in one smooth, measured movement, sending the cue ball snapping across the felt.
“Or condolences for never, ever finding someone willing to hop on your monstrous dick?”
One by one, the balls found their places. The striped ball disappeared into the pocket with a muted click, clean and final.
You didn’t rush to celebrate. Instead, you studied the table for a second longer, taking in the angle you’d left yourself before stepping into position for your next shot. It looked good when you leaned over the felt, cue gliding through your fingers as you lined it up.
Except it wasn’t, and the object ball caught the jaw of the pocket with a dull clack before spinning back onto the table.
“Aw, fuck,” you muttered under your breath, straightening as you stepped aside.
Eddie let out a low whistle as he took your place, that stupid, cocky grin still plastered across his face. Leaning over the table, he tapped the cue against the rail once before lining up his own shot. A sharp crack echoed through the empty bar as the cue ball connected, sending one of the solids banking neatly into the corner pocket.
“Listen, dude, I’m just saying.” Eddie shrugged as he pushed himself upright and reached for his beer.
Circling the table with your cue balanced loosely in one hand, you searched the table for what he’d left behind.
“Saying what, exactly?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.
“That it’s a genuine problem,” he replied over the rim of his beer bottle. “Remember that girl I fucked in the back of the van last week?”
Before you could even tell him to stop, he was already launching into the story.
Apparently, she’d spent half the time insisting he was too big while stubbornly trying to take all of him anyway.
You answered by leaning over the pool table once more, deliberately focusing on your shot instead of the absolute bullshit coming out of his mouth. The cue slid smoothly through your fingers before the cue ball rolled forward with a satisfying crack.
“Dude.” You scrunched your nose in disgust as you straightened. “I do not need to know all the details.”
Eddie flashed that infuriating grin again, dragging the tip of his tongue lazily across his lower lip.
“You don’t have to hear the details,” he said with a shrug. “You could always skip straight to the practical demonstration.”
And there it was.
It wasn’t the first time Eddie had held your gaze a little longer than necessary while spewing some ridiculous bullshit about taking him for a test drive. It came with years of friendship – careless, empty words tossed around for no other reason than to get a rise out of you.
But, see, Eddie had somehow forgotten who he was talking to – you. The physical incarnation of intrusive thoughts, and the only person who could match Eddie’s freak – or his stupidity.
The rest of your friend group had perfected the art of staying out of it; they’d learned years ago that the quickest way to become collateral damage was to accidentally encourage either of you.
And once one of you committed to the bit, the other treated it like a declaration of war.
Big mistake on Eddie’s part for forgetting that.
“Alright,” you said with a dramatic sigh as you pushed yourself away from the pool table. “Strip.”
Eddie’s hand stalled halfway to his mouth, the beer bottle hovering just below his lips. The cocky grin faltered for only a second before he recovered with a chuckle.
“C’mon, sweetheart.”
“I’m serious.” You raised an eyebrow. “You closed the place an hour ago. It’s just the two of us here.”
Crossing the room, you slid your cue back onto its rack before grabbing your beer from the table behind him. You tipped back the last mouthful and set the empty bottle down with a hollow thunk before turning back to him.
“So…” You folded your arms across your chest. “Strip.”
“I’m not just gonna–”
“Why not?” You tilted your head, all mock sympathy. “Afraid you’ll embarrass yourself?”
Eddie scoffed, although it lacked some of its earlier confidence. “Of course not–”
“Then fucking strip and get on the pool table.”
Eddie blinked, caught off guard for the briefest moment, before that crooked grin slowly crept back onto his face. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, the grin returning despite the lingering pink in his cheeks.
“Jesus H. Christ. You’re actually serious.”
“I’m dead serious, Eddie.” You kept staring at him, thoroughly unimpressed by the fact he still hadn’t moved. “Do I have to come over there and do it myself?” You’d barely finished the sentence before uncrossing your arms and taking a few deliberate steps towards him. “Because I will.”
“What–”
“You know, I don’t believe a word that’s come out of your mouth for the past three months.” You stopped in front of him, curling your fingers into the open front of his flannel just enough to tug him a fraction closer. Holding his gaze without blinking, you added, “So here’s your chance, big boy. Prove me wrong.”
Eddie searched your face for the punchline, but there wasn’t one.
The flirting had become second nature a long, long time ago, neither of you really able to pinpoint exactly when. Somewhere along the way, the lingering touches, the forced proximity, and the teasing words had all become part of the game the two of you played more often than not.
A game that had never gotten this far before.
And somehow, Eddie didn’t seem to mind.
A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he reached behind his back and set his beer on the edge of the table, and then his hands settled on your hips instead.
“Look, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckled, tightening his grip on your hips. “How about you take me out to dinner first, hm?”
“You already made me buy you a shot during your shift.” You shot him an unimpressed look before tightening your fingers around his flannel. With a firm tug, you slipped it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor between you. “You’re stalling, and I’m getting impatient.”
A crooked grin spread across Eddie’s lips as he flickered his gaze up and down your face. “As you wish, sweetheart.”
His gaze lingered on yours for another beat as the tip of his tongue swept lazily across his lower lip. Giving your hips one final squeeze, he finally let go and took a few unhurried steps backwards. He winked, and then reached for the button of his jeans.
“This better be worth my time, Munson.”
Taking a few steps back yourself, you leaned against the edge of the pool table before hoisting yourself up to sit on it.
Ignoring the raised eyebrow Eddie shot your way, you hooked your fingers beneath the hem of your shirt and peeled it over your head in one smooth motion before tossing it somewhere in his general direction.
Eddie’s ringed hands stalled for the briefest moments as his eyes wandered over your frame – or, more specifically, the lacy bra hugging your chest just a little too well for his own peace of mind.
This felt vastly different from seeing you in a bikini.
Maybe it was because there was nothing casual about it. Nothing accidental about you taking your shirt off for him, on purpose.
Or maybe it was the faint outline of your nipples beneath the lace.
Whatever the reason, it was definitely not why his fingers hesitated for that split second before he forced himself to continue undoing his jeans.
Eddie’s entire shift had been so fucking loud that, by the end of it, his head had been pounding behind his temples.
Now though? The quiet was somehow worse. The low hum of the bar fridges beneath the counter and the steady ticking of the clock somewhere behind him suddenly sounded deafening. There was no music or drunken chatter to drown out the frantic pounding of his heartbeat – or the fact that you didn’t seem to have any intention of backing down.
Which, naturally, meant Eddie wasn’t about to back down either.
Swallowing past the lump in his throat and praying you hadn’t noticed, he forced that cocky grin back into place before kicking off his shoes and shoving his jeans down the rest of the way.
“Gonna take off that skirt of yours,” he scoffed as he hooked a thumb beneath the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head, “or do you want me to do it?”
“Hm.” You tilted your head, pretending to consider the offer as the tip of your tongue swept lazily across your lower lip. “Promise not to cum the second you see my panties?”
Eddie rolled his eyes, though the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth never quite disappeared. “Real funny, sweetheart.”
He closed the distance between you with a couple of slow, deliberate steps. Curling his hands around your hips once more, Eddie lifted you off the edge of the pool table in one smooth motion, earning a startled shriek from you. He pulled you flush against his bare chest, looking at you through his lashes before a crooked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
His tongue swept lazily across his lower lip as he let his hands drift from your hips to the waistband of your skirt. Tilting his head forwards, he brushed the tip of his nose against yours while his fingers found the button.
The soft click of it coming undone echoed through the otherwise silent bar, and then came the quiet rasp of the zipper down. The sound lingered in the air for a moment before your skirt pooled around your ankles with a muted thud.
“You sure you wanna do this?” he asked quietly, his fingertips lingering against the bare skin of your waist.
His grin lingered as his hands drifted back down to your hips. Warm, calloused fingers settled against your skin before tightening just enough to lift you onto the edge of the pool table once more.
“You gonna keep stalling, or are you gonna show that supposedly big dick of yours?” you murmured, instinctively curling your legs around his waist as a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.
Eddie scrunched his nose in mock offence, looking almost genuinely offended by your choice of words. “Don’t objectify me.”
“Isn’t that exactly what you’ve been doing for the last three months?” You shot him a flat look.
He opened his mouth like he’d already thought of the perfect comeback, only to stop himself halfway through. A dry, disbelieving laugh escaped him instead as he shook his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“…Yeah, alright. Fair enough.”
For a second, you couldn’t remember what either of you had been saying as your gaze drifted across his face. It lingered on his parted lips for the briefest moment before finding his eyes again.
Eddie had always been Eddie – loud, obnoxious, and completely insufferable. The kind of asshole who’d burp in your face just because he knew it’d piss you off, steal fries off your plate after insisting he wasn’t hungry, and somehow turn every conversation into an opportunity to talk about himself.
Somehow, standing this close to him now, with your legs curled around his waist, he also looked unfairly handsome.
You hated that realisation.
More than that, you hated the fact that your eyes kept drifting back to his mouth – and that it hadn’t gone unnoticed by them.
You could see it in the way the corner of his mouth twitched into that stupid, cocky grin, and the way he stood there looking entirely too pleased with himself, as though he’d already decided he’d won.
There was no way in Hell you were about to let Eddie win this round.
So, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned forwards and pressed your lips against his.
Eddie froze for the briefest moment, clearly caught off guard by the sudden kiss. His eyes widened just slightly before they fluttered shut again, a quiet, almost disbelieving hum escaping him like he hadn’t expected you be the one to close the distance first.
Then, as if remembering exactly who he was kissing, that familiar confidence returned. His grip on your hips tightened ever so slightly as he tilted his head, meeting you halfway and deepening the kiss with an ease that made your stomach twist.
His lips were every bit as soft as they’d looked, and it drove you just a little bit insane how unfairly good the asshole was at kissing. The steady pressure of his mouth against yours sent warmth blooming through your chest, only intensifying when he lingered for just a heartbeat longer than necessary before finally drawing back enough for the two of you to breathe.
“I thought I’d told you to get on the pool table,” you murmured, still slightly out of breath.
Looking up at him through your lashes, you swept your tongue across your lips, unconsciously catching the lingering taste of the kiss as you slowly unfurled your legs from around his waist.
Eddie, however, didn’t seem all that eager to let go. One hand lingered on your hip while the other drifted to the strap of your bra. He gave it a curious tug before letting it snap gently back against your skin, a smug grin spreading across his face.
“Getting desperate already?”
“Just wanna get this nightmare over with,” you replied with a dramatic roll of your eyes, giving his chest of a half-hearted shove.
“Sure, sweetheart.” Eddie chuckled as he finally let go of your hip. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Turning just enough for the small of his back to meet the edge of the pool table, he hoisted himself onto it before shuffling towards the middle of the green felt. Once has was comfortably settled, he folded his arms behind his head and looked over at you with some infuriating grin.
“Gonna make me sit here in anticipation just so I can be impossibly disappointed?” you scoffed, pushing yourself away from the edge of the table anyway.
“Wanna do the honours?” he asked, arching an eyebrow as he nodded towards his boxers.
Resting one knee on the felt before the other, you shuffled closer until you found yourself sitting between his parted legs. The green felt rubbed roughly against his back, but Eddie didn’t seem to care too much about it when your soft hands trail up his thighs.
Your gaze was fixed on Eddie, studying and memorising every single twitch of his face as you skimmed your fingers against the cotton material of his boxers before pulling back again.
You reached behind and unclipped your bra, slowly pulling the straps down your arms until there was nothing to keep Eddie’s eyes from drinking you in. Just for the Hell of it, you threw the lacy material in his face with a smug grin spread across your lips.
The soft glow of the bar casted soft shadows across your exposed chest, highlighting every dip and curve. His dark brown eyes are completely on your breasts, commuting each detail to memory – perfect, with a beautiful roundness to them, and hardened nipples that nearly drove him insane. Eddie’s palms itched to touch, to feel their weight in his ringed hands, and it took all of his self-control not to reach for you, to pin you down and cave in, to Hell with this stupid game between you.
But he waited, breath held, for you to make the next move as he did his best to keep that confident, stupid smirk on his face.
Eddie’s eyes pulled away from your breasts to the red lacy bra that had fallen onto his chest. “You know I’m keeping this, right?”
“You get souvenirs and I get disappointment?” you muttered, leaning forwards. “Doesn’t sound fair to me.”
“Only disappointment that you won’t make it fit, sweetheart.”
Anticipation coursed through your veins as your fingers grazed his hips before curling around the waistband of his boxers. Eddie lifted his hip silently, letting you slide his boxers down his thighs until he kicked it somewhere to the floor behind you.
The cool air fanned his bare skin, raising goosebumps in its wake – or maybe that was just the weight of your parted lips and gaze fixed on his cock.
Jesus fucking Christ.
The bastard hadn’t been lying.
There was absolutely no fucking reason for someone’s dick – especially Eddie’s, of all fucking people – to be this big.
He was long, a little thicker than your wrist, and the tip of his cock, swollen and desperate, was a beautiful shade of pink that matched his lips almost perfectly. And his balls, holy– They were absolutely perfect. Big, and round, and slightly droopy, beautifully adorned with a bush of tight, dark curls.
The lack of reaction – which, frankly was a reaction in and on itself – merely made Eddie’s smug grin widen as you kept staring dumbly at his cock.
“So, what do you say, sweetheart?” He chuckled lowly, reaching for one of your thighs. He trailed a finger along the seam of your inner thigh, delighting in the way you shuddered. “Is it gonna fit? Or is it too big for you?”
“I–”
“It’s okay if it doesn’t,” he reassured mockingly.
The tension between you stretched taut and electric as he guided your hand to his aching length. Eddie buckled into your palm, a low groan escaping his lips at the touch of your hand – so much softer, warmer, smaller than his.
“Shut up,” was all you could muster, although it sounded low and unconvincing.
You gave him a few curious flicks of the wrist before letting go of him again. The absence of your touch was infuriating, but the feeling quickly melted away as he watched, transfixed, as you shuffled to straddle him.
“Make me, sweetheart.”
You hovered right above his cock, and impatiently pulled your panties to the side while you lined him up with your free hand. Keeping your gaze fixed on Eddie’s, you swallowed hard before taking a deep breath and sinking down on his cock in one quick move.
A strangled gasp tore from your throat – or was it Eddie’s? – as you enveloped him in your slick heat. His hands immediately reached for your hips, his head mercilessly falling against the hard pool table.
“Jesus–” His breath hitched.
You let out a broken moan as you gave yourself good few seconds to get used to the forced stretch – he’s too long and too fucking thick, hitting you in all the right places while also making you feel completely impaled.
Biting your lip to keep the broken moans from escaping, you slowly began moving your hips in languid rolls. Each drag of your slick walls along his aching cock sent shockwaves rippling through you. You’re drowning in the feeling, lost to everything but the addictive pressure of his swollen tip hitting your cervix each time you sank back down.
“I– Fuck,” you whimpered, reaching for his shoulders to steady yourself.
“Son of a–” he gritted out, voice wrecked with need. He let out a strained chuckle while digging his fingers into your hips. “If you could only see yourself, sweetheart.”
Eddie’s gaze locked with yours, pupils blown wide and dark with desire.
“I-I can take it,” you whimpered, biting your lip when he rocked up into you, meeting your rhythm stroke for stroke. “S-see?”
“You for sure showed me, sweetheart.” He shot you that cocky smile you hated, moving your hips back and forth to help you. “I’m so upset I was wrong.”
“You’re so fucking i-insufferable,” you gritted out, voice wrecked with need.
The pool table beneath you creaked as Eddie’s hips pistoned frantically while he kept guiding you. He thrusted up into your slick pussy, meeting each roll of your hips with growing urgency. The wet, sticky sounds of his cock filling you filled the silent bar, obscene and thrilling.
“That’s it, baby,” he praised hoarsely. “You were made to ride my big, fucking cock, hm?”
The way he filled you to the brim made you feel hyper sensitive, and it’s too much and it fucking hurt, but holy shit did he feel incredibly good.
Eddie watched you through half-lidded eyes, drinking in the sight of your cock-drunk expression. Your breasts bounce with each impact of your bodies, hardened nipples just begging for attention. Leaning up, Eddie captured one in his mouth, suckling greedily while he kept thrusting up in the same pace. He growled into your cleavage, biting down.
“J-Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking wet.” He breathed as his eyes trailed down to where you were connected, watching in fascination at how you were practically drenching his cock. “You take me so fucking well. Greedy pussy gripping, hm?”
With a broken whimper, you pushed Eddie back down onto the felt table, and sped up your movements. The tiny curls around the base of his cock brushed against your swollen clit with every roll of your hips, pulling broken moan after broken moan. He was balls deep inside of you, hitting that special spot, determined to melt your brain until you couldn’t even form thoughts anymore.
Eddie’s cheeks were impossibly flushed as he stared up at you with half-lidded eyes as his tongue slipped out from between his lips. You leaned forwards, digging your nails into his shoulders as you smashed your lips against his for a messy kiss of spit and clanking teeth.
“I’m c-close, Eds,” you panted against his neck, teeth grazing his sensitive skin. “S-so fucking close.”
“Already, sweetheart?” Eddie scoffed, punctuating the question with sharp thrusts. “Fucking do it then, soak my cock.”
He ground against your sensitive spots, determined to push you over the precipice as his fingers found your swollen clit, stroking it with firm, purposeful circles. His own lips dropped open, a whiny groan slipping past his lips when you whined, loud and needy – he couldn’t help it, not when you looked like this.
Arching your back and crying out his name, you kept taking every deliciously painful thrust he gave you and, in return, you made him squirm under you with every clench of your pussy. He matched the tight circles he drew with his thumb to the quick snap of your hips, feeling the friction burning in your veins until your orgasm finally snapped.
“E-Eddie! Fuckfuckfuck.” You came hard with a loud cry of his name, soaking his cock as your thighs jerked. Distantly, you could feel a slick gush trail down to Eddie’s hips, sticky and addictive.
Eddie watched your body tremble before tensing, hips frozen against his as you threw your head back with a broken cry. His pubes tickle the inside of your thighs just right,
Frantically, he thrusted up, again and again, your body bouncing with every move. His grip tightened around your thighs, nails leaving crescent impressions in your soft skin.
“W-where do you want me, sweetheart?”
“I-inside, Eds,” you pleaded, high and desperate. “P-please, I need it. Fill me up.”
“Like you’re not filled enough already,” he scoffed against your lips. “Fucking take it then.”
Pleasure crested sharp and urgent, with one more thrust, two– then bliss exploded through him, stealing his breath and scattering coherent thought. You let him bite your lip while he throbbed and spilled into you, filling you to the brim until he’s practically covered in his own seed.
You slumped forwards, burying your face in the crook of his neck as it took you a good minute or two to come back down to earth. Eddie gave your hip a lazy squeeze, a contented sigh escaping him while his other hand drifted slowly up and down your bare back. His calloused fingertips traced absent-minded circles against your skin as he tried to steady his breathing.
Eventually, you pushed yourself up just enough to look at him. Your eyes met his, still slightly glassy, and you swallowed hard before a small, almost sheepish smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.
“So…” you started softly, only for the rest of the sentence to die somewhere between your brain and your mouth.
“So,” Eddie echoed with a tired chuckle, his thumb lazily brushing against your hip. The silence that followed wasn’t nearly as awkward as you’d expected; if anything, it felt strangely comfortable. “That was definitely… worth the wait.”
Eddie’s grin wasn’t nearly as cocky anymore; it had softened into something you’d never seen directed at you before. Or maybe it always had been, and maybe you’d just never noticed it before.
“You…” You swallowed, suddenly finding it much harder to get the words out than you’d expected. “You make it sound like this wasn’t just about proving a point.”
Eddie’s gaze wandered across your face before settling on your eyes again, the corner of his mouth twitching into the smallest of smiles. “Because it’s wasn’t. Not really.”
The words were spoken so matter-of-factly that they almost caught you off guard.
Truth be told, it wasn’t as though the thought had never crossed your mind – because it had. More than once, actually, if you were being completely honest with yourself.
Somewhere between lazy movie nights, sharing his bed after one too many drinks, lingering hugs that lasted a second too long, and countless inside jokes that blurred the line between friendship and flirting, you’d wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
Actually crossing that line, though… you’d never imagined it would happen because neither of you knew when to shut up.
Eddie let out a quiet breath through his nose, his thumb brushing another slow circle against your hip. “Didn’t think you’d ever look at me like that,” he admitted.
You looked at him for a long moment before a quiet laugh escaped you.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?”
“What did I do now?” His eyebrows pulled together in mock confusion.
“Instead of telling me about…” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “…whatever this is, you spent the last three months talking about how dick was in the hopes I’d just cave.”
Eddie huffed out a laugh, averting his eyes away from you. “Sounds pretty stupid when you say it out loud.”
“Because it is stupid,” you chuckled. “And so are you.”
A tired groan slipped past his lips as he pushed himself up, not caring if the remnants of your activities stained the green felt of the pool table beneath him. The hand on your back was warm as he trailed it up to cradle your cheek.
“So…” he trailed off, his voice quieter than before. “Do you wanna–”
“Give this a shot?” you finished for him, your eyebrows lifting ever so slightly.
Your gaze drifted slowly across his face, as though you were trying to commit every freckle and crooked smile to memory. By the time your eyes had found his again, your expression had softened.
“Yeah.” You held his gaze for a long moment before your smile grew a fraction wider. “I think I’d be pretty stupid not to.”
There's a video of Joe at a Sabrina Carpenter concert begging to be handcuffed and all I can think about is wanting to be in between both of them at the same time 😭🤤
warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, big dick!steve harrington ofc, size kink, cursing, little bit of insecure steve, def a lot more.
word count: 4.5k
You and Steve have been seeing each other for a little over two months and in that time, he’s pulled out all the works. Thoughtful date planning, never showing up empty handed, never letting you touch a door or see the bill.
He listened when you spoke, always eager to give his two cents, and he remembered every little detail you let slip. He was enamored with you in every sense of the word. It didn’t take him long to introduce you to the group and just like himself, everyone adored you.
Even if he couldn’t put it in exact words, he knew you were the one. He woke up thinking about you and fell asleep thinking of you. You were it for him, he was sure of it.
And right now, Steve Harrington was trying his best to remember all the chivalrous ideals his mother instilled in his head.
But as you sat perched on his lap, thighs bracketing his own, and your hips grinding against his cock – well, he suddenly felt a whole lot less gentleman like.
It’s late in the evening, you’d invited Steve into your house after another date gone perfect. He really did try to keep things classy – allowing himself to hold your hand or keep a palm at your lower back without over doing it. But when you dragged him to your bed with the promise of a movie? He didn’t stand a chance.
Your mouth smacks against his, the sloppy sounds bouncing off the walls around you. Your fingers were tangled in the nape of his hair, gripping and tugging every time he deepened the kiss.
He moaned against your mouth while his fingers squeezed at your hips. Subconsciously, his palms began following the movements of your hips – dragging your panty covered core over the inseam of his jeans.
Your hips stuttered at a particular drag, your lips parting as you breathe into his mouth.
Steve smirks against your mouth. “Yeah? That the spot, baby?”
You mewl against him. Your nails scratch against his scalp, all while you continue to grind against him. He stifles a smug chuckle against your lips and instead, sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, carefully pulling it back into his mouth.
He swallows down every moan you give him, savoring it on his tongue. Your shaky hands slip from his hair and slide between the two of you while you grab at his belt buckle. You fumble with the metal a few times before you’re able to unclasp it and in seconds, you pull it free and throw it to some forgotten corner of the room.
Your fingers continue their journey across his jeans, clawing at the zipper until it begins to slide it down.
Suddenly, Steve’s hands clasp around your hips in a real hold and he forces you still. He pulls his mouth from yours, the sound of both of your heavy breathing mixing together. He gently pushes you back so your bottom sits closer to his knees than his hips.
All he can focus on is the sad, confused look on your face as you look up at him.
“Are – Are you okay?” You ask softly and he’s quick to pick up on the insecurity blanketing your voice.
He swallows and for a second, he’s not sure how to respond.
It always goes like this. You and Steve can makeout for what feels like hours at a time but the moment he thinks it’s going too far, he stops.
It’s not that he didn’t want to have sex with you – he did, more than anything – but you two weren’t exactly official yet and he wanted to do things the right way. He didn’t want to rush things with you.
And maybe he was a little scared of how you would react when it happened.
Steve was a humble man, he could acknowledge the looks he had and the privilege it gave him. He was also acutely aware of just how much .. package he was given. It wasn’t always an issue, not entirely at least, but he knew there would always be a chance he could hurt you and he was ready to do everything to prevent that.
Even if that meant blue balling himself.
He keeps his hands on your waist, giving the skin a gentle and reaffirming squeeze.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” He smiles softly. “I just – I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,”
The shake of your head you give him is so fast it’s nearly comical. “I’m not uncomfortable.”
His stomach flutters at the sheer conviction in your voice. He gently pecks your lips.
“It’s okay baby, let’s stop here.” His voice is so kind that it almost doesn’t make sense for your response to be a frown, but it is and it’s deep. He hates being the cause of it.
He doesn’t push you off his lap and you don’t make a move either. Your eyes have casted away from his own, instead they stare intently at the necklace resting against his chest.
There’s a deep crease between your brows and your mouth is still turned down into a frown. He can see the questions and confusion swirling behind your eyes. Just as his lips part to speak, your voice fills his ears.
“Have I been reading all of this wrong?” You ask suddenly and your eyes filter back to his own. He stares back at you, his lips slightly parted, and the look on your face is enough to have him worried.
You keep talking.
“You’re a great guy, Steve, a really great one and it’s been weeks of us hanging out and going on dates, and even making out, but..” Your voice trails off just slightly. His eyes glance down to where your fingers have been nervously playing with the hem of his shirt, scratching at the frayed fabric. “But you always stop before it gets too far and if you’re like, not into sex then that’s – that’s okay, really! I’d – I’d never pressure you or anything but I just, I don’t want you to feel like you have to be with me or something.”
By the time you’ve finished, your voice has gotten significantly quieter and timid. You won’t look him in the eye and as your words hang in the air, he feels guilt heavy in his gut.
He’s never wanted to make you feel unwanted by him, but clearly his intention didn’t help.
Carefully, he brings both hands to your cheeks and holds them between his palms. Your eyes are glassy and you still avoid eye contact but when he brushes your skin with his thumb, you meet his gaze.
“I’m sorry I made you feel like that, sweetheart.” The look in his eyes is so sincere that you regret saying anything. You shake your head in his hold.
“You don’t have to apologize Steve, really. I’m – I’m being dramatic. We can just watch a movie, yeah?”
When you shift to slide off his lap, Steve’s hands drop back to your thighs and he holds you firmly in place. Your wide eyes stare back up at him and you let him pull your body closer, all the way until you’re settled right over his hips again. You’re hovering right over his cock and you’re both aware of how much muscle you’re using to keep yourself up on your knees. He doesn’t rush you.
“You’re not dramatic,” He says quietly but firmly. You let him continue. “It’s not that I’m not into sex or not into you because trust me baby, I’m really into you,” A smile grows across your lips as he speaks and he feels the guilt in his chest slowly dissipate.
“Then what is it?” You ask softly, your hands carefully sliding up his bare arms until your palms rest against his shoulders.
He pauses then. He has every intention of being honest about his worries but he’s not sure how to say it without you laughing in his face. But when he looks at you, all he sees is the most open and curious expression. So, he bites the bullet.
“I’m worried about hurting you, baby.” He says. Your brows furrow at his confession and he can tell it did little to offer any clarity. Steve swallows and slowly runs his palms up and down your sides – he tells himself it’s to comfort you but it’s really for him. “This is gonna sound like.. really weird, okay? Believe me, I know how it’s gonna sound,” He breathes. You nod quickly, a wordless way to let him continue.
He keeps eye contact with you and takes a few seconds to put his words together. Steve wasn’t just worried about sounding like a fool, he was worried about the outcome of the entire situation. You wouldn’t be able to help this being a problem even if you didn’t want it to be, and what was the alternative? Go through with it and have you in pain or force you into a relationship without sex? It felt like a lose-lose.
But as he looked at you and that beautifully curious look in your eyes, he knew he owed you the chance to make the decision for yourself.
He takes a deep breath. “It’s – when I’ve had sex before, there’s been like, a problem I guess. Sometimes..” Steve can’t bear to look you in the eyes as he finishes his sentence and with a flaming face, he focuses on your pleated skirt instead. “Sometimes I can’t always fit.”
Everything freezes.
Not just slows down or dims – no, it stills.
Steve continues looking down at your lap, his mind running a million miles an hour as he waits for you to say something. Or laugh – he’s really betting on your response being a laugh.
Honestly, he’s just ready for the ground to crack open and swallow him whole. Anything would be better than the complete silence buzzing in his ears – especially with you still firm in his lap.
Then your voice fills the silence.
“Like.. you’re too big?” Your voice is gentle, almost like you’re coaxing it out of him. He grimaces at your question, the skin of his face covered in a blush. He’s entirely too embarrassed to respond so instead, he nods. Just one, timid little nod but it’s enough.
Any day now, Hell. Just drag me under. He thinks.
“Can I see?”
Steve’s head shoots up to look at you. Your face is relatively emotionless – but calm and open, he can see. You’re not judging him or laughing. Your hands are still holding onto his shoulders, your thumbs tracing little circles against his shirt.
He swallows. “You don’t – you don’t have to, baby. We can wait a bit longer.”
You nod in response but nuzzle closer into his lap. Not to tease him, just to be close. Your head dips and you bring your mouth to hover over his. Your lips brush, just enough to feel a touch of electricity but not enough to satisfy either of you. “I want to, Stevie. It’s okay.”
His eyes flutter shut, his mind and body already getting lost in you. Whatever kind of hold you have on him has him addicted and he doesn’t ever want to be sober again.
He’s nodding before he even notices. “We’ll go slow, yeah? And if you wanna stop, you can tell me. I promise I’ll listen.”
His words ignite a fire in your stomach – a warm, gentle fire. You smile back at him. “I trust you.” You respond simply.
An identical fire lights in his own stomach and without another word, his mouth surges onto your own again. You both moan out of relief into each other’s mouth and in seconds, each of your hands are clawing at each other – at any part you can reach and feel.
Steve devours your mouth with his own to the point that it feels like you’re one being. His hands anchor at your hips and without thinking, he starts moving your hips over him again. You move in tandem with him, chasing exactly what you’ve been craving for weeks.
He slides his palms from where they rest at your hips and down to your thighs, all the way until they reach the end of your skirt. He slowly rubs the skin of your thighs and for the first time, Steve finally lets his hands wander below your skirt, carefully trailing up your bare skin until the tips of his fingers reach the trim of your panties.
Your breath hitches at his careful touching but you do your best to keep the same pace of your mouth against his. He slips his tongue past your lips, easily licking into your mouth – at the same time the pads of his fingers rub soft and slow circles into your clit over the lace.
You whine into his mouth, very clearly wound up tight already. Your own hand drop down to his jeans and try to tug his zipper down but his free hand holds your wrist still. He stops kissing you for a moment, but his fingers continue rubbing your clit.
“Wait,” He whispers gently. His mouth still touches yours as you breathe into each others mouths. “Let me do this first, yeah? Promise I’ll give it to you, just be patient.”
You’re putty in his hands.
Your heart slams against your ribs as you nod. You let your hands steer from his jeans and instead, you splay your palms across his abdomen. You can feel his stomach tightening beneath your touch and you crave the feeling of his skin against yours.
His presses his thumb harder against you, just barely but enough to have you cry out. Your fingers curl into his shirt, fisting the fabric as his fingers work you over. Your forehead drops to his shoulder.
“Good girl, baby. Such a good girl f’me,”
You whine at his words, nodding into his shoulder. He chuckles at your reaction and is quick to take note of how much you like his praise.
He’s even more sure of himself when his fingers curl around the edge of your panties and tugs them to the side. Your breathing is erratic against his neck, warm and uncontrollable on his skin, and he brings his mouth down to your throat.
His teeth sink into your pulse point at the exact same time he sinks his middle finger inside your cunt.
You cry out immediately, loud and unapologetic, and bury yourself further into his neck. Your hands slip beneath his shirt, finally feeling his warmth against your palms. Your nails dig into his skin as his finger begins to plunge in and out of you.
Your wetness quickly begins to soak not just his finger but his entire hand, slowly pooling in the cup of his palm. He gently shushes you, curling his finger perfectly until he nudges that perfect spot.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” He breathes. Your hips begin to rock against his fingers and the obscene sounds of your weeping cunt fill the room.
“Oh Steve!” Your voice is a blubbering whine and it sounds like music to his ears. He hums against your skin and carefully slides another finger in. “SteveSteveSteve,”
His fingers crook inside of you, gently brushing that spongey spot that has you seeing stars already. His fingers move at a tortuous and satisfying pace all at once.
“So wet for me, baby. God, I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” He groans. Your eyes roll back into your head and you can both feel the way your walls flutter around him.
He doesn’t have to ask to know you’re close. He quickens his pace, plunging his fingers deeper inside you and curling them just right to bring you closer to the edge.
“Oh my – fuck! Right there, right there.” You cry out. Your thighs shake around his hips and you’re so, so close to falling over.
Steve uses his free hand to tangle into your hair and gently pull you from your hiding place in his neck. Your eyes are squeezed shut, specks of both wet and dried mascara staining the skin under your eyes. Your mouth hangs open and just before your body locks up, Steve slides in a third finger – easily pumping all three fingers in and out.
Your orgasm crashes into you. One second you’re riding Steve’s fingers and the next, you’re on an entirely different planet. You can barely hear the faint sound of Steve’s voice murmuring into your ear as his fingers slow down but move enough to prolong your pleasure.
The only thing you can register is him. His fingers, his mouth, his voice. It’s what slowly draws you back to reality, light headed and bleary eyed. You can feel his mouth gently glide across your skin, leaving a trail of kisses.
Steve watched your eyes blink back to normalcy at him, he can feel soft trembles in your limbs over him. He gives you a sweet smile and plants a peck to your mouth.
“Did s’good for me, baby. I’m so proud of you,” He whispers. You shiver in his arms as your breathing slowly returns normal. The smile on your face is wide and Steve has no choice but to mirror it.
You press your mouth firmly against his, easily taking control. Your tongue licks into his mouth this time and Steve has to stop himself from regaining control. He lets you lead the kiss and when your hands tug at the hem of his shirt, he easily discards it.
Steve strips your shirt next, and then helps you slide the skirt down your hips, until you’re left in your matching red set. He groans at the stark color against your skin.
Minx.
But as much as he loves it, he’d rather see it on the floor. He quickly slips his hands behind your back and unhooks your bra. He throws it across the room and uses one hand to palm at your breasts, using the other to tug your panties all the way down your legs, doing the same with them.
You moan against his mouth, your own hands trailing over the expanse of his bare stomach and chest. His skin burns beneath your palms, his muscles contracting under every brush of your hands.
This time when your hands find his jeans, he doesn’t stop you, but he does whisper, “Are you sure, baby?”
You let your hands continue to tug at his jeans, pushing them down past his thighs for him to kick away himself. You press your mouth harder against his, swallowing every moan of his. “I’m sure, Stevie.”
Steve doesn’t dwell on his own worries any longer. His own hands move to help yours in pushing his pants away until they’re around his ankles. He kicks them to the pile of forgotten clothing and lets you wander your hands to his boxers.
Tentatively, like you’re waiting for him to change his mind, you rub your palm over his covered length. He throws his head back at the first real kind of contact you’ve made with his cock so far and he uses all his willpower not to finish right then and there.
You smile at his reaction, a smug one, and continue to slowly rub him over the fabric. You can’t help yourself from already tugging the garment down and letting his cock spring free.
It slaps against his bare stomach and the first thing Steve registers when he looks at you is the wide eyed look on your face. It’s not fear or surprise, but something resembling awe.
He can see it in your eyes – how you’re thinking he was definitely right before. Steve is big, definitely bigger than anyone you’ve been with before, and it makes your mouth water. He’s thick and long, his pink tip leaking with precum that’s just begging you to taste.
For a second, his insecurities creep back in and as if there’s an alarm in your head, your eyes snap to his. You look at his lust blown eyes, flushed cheeks and parted lips. You hold his gaze with your own as your small hand closes around his cock, gently stroking him.
He moans aloud, hips already thrusting up into your palm. It’s painfully obvious he’s wanted this just as much as you. Your hand continues to work him over slowly, your wrist twisting and rising over his length.
His thighs tighten beneath you, his chest heaving with uneven breaths as he tries not to finish early. Your mourn lowers to the column of his throat, sucking over his pulse as your hand continues its movements.
“Fuck just like that, baby. Keep – keep doing it like that.” He pants. You obey of course. You leave a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses across his skin and even suck a mark into his skin.
Without Steve even noticing, you raise your hips and carefully guide his cock to your cunt. He doesn’t realize until he feels your soaked pussy siding against the tip of his cock.
His eyes shoot open, his hands gripping your hips tight – but he doesn’t stop you. His breathing stutters and his eyes flicker from your face and down to where you begin to connect.
“Baby –,” He gasps as you slide his cock through your folds. “Wait, go – go slow. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
His words are so sweet, so considerate, but you roll your eyes anyway.
You keep your hand wrapped around his length as your hips still over him. He can feel the tip of his cock just barely slip towards your entrance.
Your eyes lock with his and you use your free hand to hold his cheek. You wait until his eyes leave your pussy and find your own. That’s when you speak.
“Stop worrying so much, Stevie.”
And with that, you sink onto his cock.
“Oh fuck!” He whines out, his fingers digging harshly into the skin of your hips. Your cry is nearly identical as you slide down. You can feel every rigid and vein of his cock against your velvet walls and almost immediately, you’re pulsing around him.
The stretch is undeniable and intense but so good. It felt like being split open in the best way possible. Your eyes flicker down to where he disappears inside you and that’s when you realize he’s barely halfway in.
You moan at the sight. Your slick slides down his cock, soaking the base of him. It’s a sticky and lewd mess already.
Steve’s hips slowly rock upwards, his hands on your hips keep you in place. His own gaze locks onto where you connect and when you take a second to breathe, he thinks this is how much you’ll be able to take.
He’s not upset about it, not even for a second.
“You’re so good, baby. The fuckin’ best I’ve ever had, mhm.” He gasps out. You look down at him and the completely fucked out expression on his face, and you crave more.
You ignore the tremble in your thighs and sink down further. His beautiful brown eyes widen, his mouth hanging open as he watches your cunt swallow three more inches – almost all of him.
“Fuckfuckfuck,” He moans. “Don’t push yourself baby, it’s okay.” You ignore him, only responding with your own lewd moan as you finally sink down on him completely. Steve can’t hold himself back anymore, he sits up and wraps his arms around your body and thrusts his hips upwards.
Your hips meet his pace, dropping down into his lap with every thrust. The tip of his cock hits your cervix every time and your pussy weeps around him. The sound of wet skin smacking, mixed with his and your moans, fills the room.
The feeling of your cunt squeezing and clenching around him has his head swimming. He can’t believe he’s been depriving himself of this.
“Fuck Steve, you’re so – you’re so big.” You whine and Steve slams you down harder onto his length. Your thighs burn with every drop but you hardly feel it with the way his cock splits you open.
“Jesus Christ,” He moans. “You’re so perfect, baby. Like you were made for me. You were, huh? Made just for me,”
You nod feverishly against him, because you were. Just as he was made for you.
Your arms tighten around his neck. Your cunt flutters around him and when he pulls his head back to look down at where you’re joined, he’s awestruck at the unmistakable white ring around his cock you’ve caused.
“Fuck look at you, taking all of it like a good girl. The only one who can take it, right? Only one who can take it so good.”
You body shakes around him, but the confirmation that nobody could ever take him the way you could has you slamming down harder.
“Just me, baby. Only me.” You whimper. He groans, teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder. He brings his thumb down to your clit, rubbing tight and fast circles against your swollen bud.
It builds fast and intense. You know he’s just as close as his breathing hitches, hips stuttering as he thrusts up into you.
“Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you soak me like a good girl.”
Your second orgasm hits you like a freight train. It’s blinding and all consuming. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, your thighs convulsing around his hips. Your cunt clamps around his cock, pulsing hot and wet until you feel Steve’s thrusts falter and in seconds, his own cum is filling you from the inside out.
You’re finally able to suck in a breath as you come down from your high. Steve holds you tight to his chest, his sweaty skin sticking to your own. Your arms wrap tight around his shoulders as you feel his cock twitch inside you.
You’re both boneless and exhausted when he finally comes back down to reality too. He pulls his head back to look at your face.
Your makeup is a runny and smudged mess, your hair is tangled and frizzy, and your cheeks are flushed red but you’ve never looked more beautiful to him.
He covers your mouth with his own in a slow and deep kiss. There’s to rush or really any rhythm to it – just the desire to feel your mouth against his. When you pull away, he leans his forehead against your own. Your eyes blink tiredly but there’s a dopey smile on your face.
“Told you I could take it,” You whisper.
Steve rolls his eyes and snakes his arm around your waist, holding you tight as he flops backwards so his back hits the mattress. Your body bounces on top of him and the movement has his cock stirring inside you again.
He uses his free hand to push a strand of hair out of your face. “Prove it.”
Summary: A rough day at work means Steve deserves some kind of relief. Luckily, you know just how to give it to him
Content Warnings: MDNI +18, established relationship, domestic fluff/comfort, oral (m!receiving), brief gagging/choking, misogyny if you look close enough (like with a microscope), illudes to even more sex
Word Count: 706
Author's Note: i originally wrote with Rafe Cameron in mind but the obx corner of Tumblr seems to be on hiatus till season 5 releases // Masterlist
The door creaks open as Steve steps in. You’re sprawled across the bed, computer open but untouched beside you. The TV throws flashes of light across the room, exposing every crease of exhaustion on his face.
“Oh Stevie.” Your legs swing off the bed, moving as fast as they can towards him.
His arms wrap around your waist and pull you in for a hug.
“Hi doll.” His head settles on your hair. With each breath he takes, his heartbeat slows.
“Was work bad?”
You regret asking the question as his breathing shallows, shoulders tense again.
“Yeah…It was a little rough.”
“I’m sorry.”
Your apology softens him enough that he presses a kiss to your forehead. It really shouldn’t be you apologizing. If anyone, it should be the idiots at work.
The TV light flickers once again stealing his attention. “What’re you watching?”
“I don’t know, some new romance Nancy wouldn’t stop talking about.”
He chuckles at the thought of you actually being able to sit through this. One line of dialogue is enough for him to scoff.
“This show is horrible.”
You laugh, cheeks heating up. “I know, I know.”
You peek around his shoulder and watch the show with him. The characters are alone in a bedroom, both tipsy but desperate for each other.
Steve’s breath hitches as the couple begins touching each other. So much for hating romance. Moans rattle through the speakers and heat floods your face. All you can think about are those noises coming from him. Your hands trace his spine, but he pays no mind, eyes glued on the screen.
You rack your brain for a way to steal his attention, but your hand makes the decision before you do. It unbuttons his pants, dipping into his boxers. You grab his cock and run your thumb over the tip.
He jerks back, head slamming on the door. “Fuck, what are you—”
“Shhh. Just relax.” You drop to your knees, pulling his pants and boxers down so that they pool at his ankles.
“I can’t relax when you—” your tongue licks from the base of his cock to the tip, “—oh fuck.”
You hum sending his nerves into shock. One hand meets the back of your hair, but he doesn’t tug or push down like usual—he allows you to take control.
A grin forms as you gag around him, spit dribbling down the corners of your mouth and onto his shoes. He should’ve taken them off by now, but with the way you’re sucking him, he couldn’t care less.
His hips stutter, curses filling the room both from him and the mind-numbing show on the TV. You pull back, taking a breath, before forcing yourself as far down as possible. Your throat spasms around him and, without warning, he cums down the back of your throat. He’s salty but somewhat sweet, the taste has never bothered you much.
His hips and hand lock you in place for longer than comfortable, air in your lungs dissipating. The release seeping down the back of your throat only suffocates you more. You smack his thigh roughly and he snaps out of the daze, dragging you off of him. He peers down at you, pupils blown out.
“Fuckkk, that cured me doll. I should take you to work with me so you can do that all day.”
He hooks his hands underneath your arm, lifting you onto your feet. You meet gaze with teary eyes and a smile he could never forget.
“Let me return the favor to you now. I’ll make you feel better.” He scoops you up and carries you to the bed.
“God, you’re so strong. Muscles so big.” You trace the ridge of his bicep.
He tosses you down with a chuckle. The TV shuts off meaning you must’ve landed on the remote, or it felt the same way about the show and turned itself off.
You giggle glancing back at him before letting your legs fall apart. Cold air rushes across your skin, exposing the lack of clothes on your lower half.
“I can’t control myself when you do shit like this.” His hands drag the skin on his face down. “Fuck me.”
twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)
"HALLOWEEN PARTIES"
EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"
→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader
→ warnings: strong language, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of possible future pregnancy, lots of suggestive conversation and making out. not edited. upside down does not exist, minors dni
→ wc: 9.9k+
→ a/n: @take-everything-you-can plagued me with thoughts of what our idiots would get up to on halloween, and i just couldn't help myself. it definitely spiraled out of control though. my bad. ALSO, QUICK DISCLAIMER: please if you get a snake don't do what reader and eddie did. snakes a homebodies. we are just going to pretend it's okay in this context for the name of fiction, alright? obligatory snake owner ramble over. let's GO.
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The thumping of the bass was audible before you’d even exited the elevator fully.
Any other day of the year, you’d assume your group of friends would be earning an instant noise complaint for the volume of the music coming from behind Steve and Robin’s apartment front door. But it wasn’t just any other day – it was Halloween, and somewhere amongst the rhythm of what surely had to be Steve blasting Abba, you could make out fellow neighbors playing music just as loudly.
If anything, the overly quiet apartments were more concerning than the noisy ones.
“Do you think Lestat is going to do okay with the music?” Eddie suddenly frets, one hand reaching to tug on what little fabric there was of his costume. It almost made you smile, a reminder of what exactly your usually ‘scary’ boyfriend was donning.
Britney Spears, circa 2001. One of her most iconic VMA performances.
He’d decided it the moment you two had come home several months ago with the most important accessory that was draped around his neck – a juvenile ball python named Lestat, who looked surprisingly content as he hung onto Eddie’s shoulders.
“I don’t know,” you hum, looking over at Eddie, a little bit concerned now that he’d brought it up, “Maybe it’s a bad idea-”
“I’m texting Nance to turn the music down.”
“What if it freaks him out?”
“It’ll be fine.”
“What if he gets stressed and bites you, Eddie?”
To any onlooker, the sight of you might have been a bit funny. Furrowed brows, arms crossed, sticky blood spread out across your stomach and sternum.
The theme tonight for the two of you had been iconic performances. Eddie insisted, and part of you knew he was just afraid to dress up so extravagantly all alone when it came to this small get-together, but you hadn’t hesitated to pull together your own version of Lady Gaga’s iconic VMA performance from 2009. If you two were going to commit to a theme this year, you were committing.
Eddie balances his phone in one hand, typing with a single thumb. Impressive, given his history of ardently avoiding owning a smart phone. His other hand trails up to his collarbone, sneaking a careful finger below Lestat’s head, holding him up and pouting his lip a little, “This little guy? Biting me? He would never.”
The sight was cute. Obnoxiously, overly, endearingly cute.
“He’s still a snake,” you try to argue, stopping right outside of apartment 34C. The music was more clear now as it switched from whatever Abba tune had been playing to Maneater by Nelly Furtado, “If he gets scared enough, he might.”
“I’d hardly call him a snake,” Eddie snorts, shoving his phone back into his pocket, smiling as he tilts his chin to awkwardly stare at the snake now carefully slithering over his knuckles, “Dude misses the mice on his first strike every time we feed him. And if there was ever a time he was going to bite me, it would have been when I was taking that moss out of his mouth as he was eating.”
That earns a huff of a laugh from you as well. The image of Eddie on Monday night, absolutely losing his mind as he’d noticed that Lestat had gotten his mouse entangled in some of the moss decorating his enclosure, not even hesitating to open the tank once more and throw his hand in right along with the tongs to prevent your new ‘son’ from ingesting it, crosses your mind. It hadn’t mattered how much you reassured him that it was probably normal in the wild, that Lestat’s body could certainly handle it. Eddie had been insistent and blinded by what could only be described by paternal instinct.
If you’d asked yourself last Halloween if that had been where you see your life heading in a year’s time, you would have rolled your eyes.
“You do realize how dumb that was of you, right?” you insist, remembering your fear and the way your breath had caught in the moment. It was funny now, but you’d never gripped onto Eddie’s shoulder tighter than when he’d recklessly done so. You loved the snake, you really did, but you’d realized in that moment you might still love Eddie just a little bit more.
The conversation is cut short as it’s clear that Nancy had received Eddie’s text, the music behind the door quieting a bit along with a change of song.
Your jaw nearly drops, “You did not make Nancy do that.”
The opening notes of I’m a Slave 4 U were impossible to miss.
“I did.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Are you gonna insult me the entire night, or let me make my iconic entrance?”
You don’t get a chance to answer, Eddie carefully passing by you, Lestat’s head bouncing a little as it passes a bit closer to your face than you would have been comfortable with a few months ago.
The snake, funnily enough, had even been your idea to begin with. Your want, your desperate argument you’d wasted countless breaths upon while getting ready for bed with Eddie.
It’ll be fun, you’d whined to Eddie as you’d both crawled into bed, we even have the space in the living room.
Sweetheart, you’re fucking terrified of snakes, Eddie had easily rebuttalled. He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t stop you from huffing like a petulant child.
That’s an exaggeration, you argued right back.
Your hands had still shook ferociously that first day of bringing home the snake when you’d been the one to move him from the small container the store had placed him and into the full fifty gallon tank now occupying a fairly large chunk of the apartment’s living room.
You’re still lost in your head as the door swings open for Eddie right as the first chorus of the song begins. He’s dramatic, fully committed, a glimmer of who he must have been in high school shining right through as he struts confidently into your friends’ apartment.
A version of Eddie you somehow missed despite never having met. You almost wonder if you would have still ended up here if you’d met then; you almost wonder if you would have still ended up at each other’s throats inevitably, even in those days.
You probably would have. You secretly hope that it all would have still happened exactly as it has.
“No fucking way!”
Robin is the first voice you can hear excitedly shriek out a reaction to Eddie, followed by a sharp hush from Nancy. They’re deeper in the apartment, out of your line of sight. You can hear Jonathan’s muttered response lost in the music, and you can smell Argyle’s presence rather than hear or see it.
Weed had been expected, but Steve and Robin were strict in their rule of only partaking on the balcony.
“Yes fucking way,” Eddie responds, clearly giddy. You finally trail in behind him, not necessarily shy but certainly not nearly as extravagant as he had been. You hang back a bit, biting back a grin, just admiring your boy.
All warmth, rosey cheeks spread wide in his boyish grin, eyes bright as he wiggles his brows as Robin.
“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Robin whispers as she rushes forward, glancing over her shoulder, clearly looking for Steve before she leans it a tad bit closer towards Lestat.
“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” Eddie snarkily replies, moving to slowly remove the snake from his neck.
“Language,” you jokingly scold him, reaching out to take the snake from his hands as he brings it to his chest, giving Robin a closer look at the nearly-glimmering pale scales of your pet. Almost instinctively, he starts to pull the animal away, but once he sees the look on your face, he’s quick to hand him over. “No cursing around our son.”
Nancy finally walks up, still no sign of Steve as she joins your side and Lestat wraps his body slowly around your wrist, “Oh my God, don’t tell me you also refer to this thing as your child.”
“This thing?” Eddie huffs, more offended than you, “Nance, he has a name.”
Robin has gravitated towards you now, entirely captivated by the ball python, eyes shimmering as she lets out the smallest gasps and squeals under her breath, “What’s his name?”
“Lestat,” you whisper, watching Nancy and Eddie grow closer and clearly get more immersed in their own private conversation, “But Eddie wanted to name him Frodo.”
“Frodo,” Robin chuckles a little, looking at you questioningly as she holds out a timid finger. You give her a nod, moving a thicker part of the snake’s body to face her rather than the head, “Sounds like Eddie.”
It did indeed. Once the bickering of whether or not you two would even get the snake to begin with had faded, the entire argument of what its name would be had started up. Eddie wanted the snake to be named after his favorite books – you wanted to name the snake after your most recent reads.
You’d clearly won. At the sacrifice of promising the inevitable first of many cats you and Eddie would eventually have be named Frodo instead. But you’d still won.
Robin’s eyes finally leave the snake long enough to take in your own outfit, and you hadn’t realized it was possible for the girl’s grin to widen, “Wait - are you dressed as Lady Gaga from her Paparazzi performance?”
“Oh, my dear Birdie,” you coo out the endearment, shivering slightly as the cool body of the snake continues to slither up near your elbow, “This night is just getting started.”
—
You were right. The night had just begun.
The first few hours pass fairly chaotically. A languid and rapid mixing of everyone excitedly catching up on each other’s lives, various drinks beginning to be concocted. Some delicious, and some spurring gags from others simply from the description of the hard liquor that had gone into them.
Argyle had managed to lure many of the group out onto the patio at various intervals to partake in the devil’s lettuce, as he had proudly proclaimed it. Nancy and Jonathan had figured out a way to set up a makeshift karaoke party in the living room, lyrics for songs being displayed on the main TV. And Steve, for all his attentive hospitality as the one of the co-hosts of the night, had remained painfully oblivious.
Eddie had gone behind his back when it came to bringing Lestat. Steve had made it clear when the two of you had purchased the puppy in reptile form that he wanted nothing to do with the python, while the rest of the group had been easily intrigued – especially Robin. And so once Eddie had decided upon his Britney outfit, the next logical step had been securing Lestat’s attendance at the party. He hadn’t texted Steve - or Nancy, as a matter of fact - but rather Robin.
The girl hadn’t even taken a minute to respond, overly enthusiastic to meet the snake.
Everyone had slowly become a part of a more silent bet as the night dragged on, and for once, you and Eddie were on the betting side of it all. The drinks were poured, the weed was smoked, the music was sung along to painfully off-key, and Steve never once noticed the snake that was frequently wrapped around various parts of yours and Eddie’s body.
The quick exchanges probably didn’t help. When Steve needed your help in the kitchen at one point, you’d smoothly handed Lestat over to Eddie in passing. When Eddie had agreed to join Jonathan and Argyle on the balcony at one point, he’d easily and carefully draped the snake across the nape of your neck from behind the couch. Hell, you’d even spent a good five minutes engrossed in a conversation with Steve, all the while Lestat had been comfortably coiled around your bicep opposite the man.
As the hours passed by, you found yourself wanting to be caught.
Your phone pings suddenly as you bury yourself deeper into the leather couch, giggling over Steve’s current rendition of What’s New Scooby Doo?.
You shuffle carefully to pull it from where you’d wedged it against your hip, trapped weakly by your white bottoms speckled with glittery blood.
WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: I want a cigarette :-(
You do a double take of the contact name, blinking rapidly before you finally connect the dots.
YOU: when the hell did you change your contact name in my phone?
WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: Unimportant.
WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: Do you think if I hand Lestat off to you right now that Steve would notice?
Your eyes flick up as the song ends, Robin having jumped up to finish off the performance with Steve, the two of them a mess of flailing limbs clinging to each other and joyful laughter bubbling out of them for unknown reasons.
Well, partially unknown reasons. One of them was surely the strange concoction the two of them had chugged at some point in the night that had included both watermelon flavored vodka and green apple whiskey. That had been one you’d cringed and stuck your tongue out at.
YOU: 50/50 chance. And NOT unimportant btw, what’s my name in YOUR phone?
Just as Eddie exits the bathroom, Steve perks up at the sound of the door and distant flush, removing himself entirely from Robin’s embrace, “Fuckin’ finally! I have to piss.”
Everyone holds their breath as he rushes past Eddie, but he still remains completely unaware of the snake that Eddie is carrying.
The slam of the door times perfectly with Eddie’s collapse onto the couch next to you, a shy and guilty grin already gracing his face before you even begin bursting at the seams with continuing the text conversation face-to-face.
“Seriously,” you waste no time, turning to him quickly and your knee easily overlapping his thigh as you shuffle into a more comfortable position, “When did you change your name in my phone, asshole?”
He takes his time answering, pulling on the ridiculously small jean shorts he wears as his shoulders quiver with the effort of holding in his laughter, “Words hurt, baby.”
You hate the way nicknames as simple as baby can send still shivers down your spine.
“You couldn’t have at least been a little more creative? Like, world’s hottest boyfriend? C’mon, you can be more clever than that, surely.”
It’s easy to do this, to egg him on and prod at his ego in the softest of ways. It’s also always been a dead giveaway to him that he’s gotten under your skin.
“My name with a pretty black heart next to it just wasn’t cutting it anymore,” he pouts exaggeratedly, leaning into your space a bit, holding the snake a careful distance away as he looks into your eyes and a suspiciously jubilant look crosses his face, “What would you have preferred?”
“Something shorter,” you breathe out, feeling some of the alcohol coursing through your veins now, making your headswim as you suck in the scent of his cologne heavy in the space between you, “It’s a bit of a mouthful, if I’m being honest.”
“It is,” he nods, and his lips spread salaciously, pupils growing just a tad bit wider before he delivers a devastating blow, “But we both know you can take it, can’t you, baby?”
Damn him. Fuck him. Send him all the way down to the depths of Hell, for all you care.
He’s caught on to a clear game he can play now that you’re tipsy, one that he certainly has the upper hand in, and you can’t tell if the night ending in him winning it would actually spell your loss. You swear, you can already feel his hands on your hips, tearing off the costume you’d spent several weeks carefully sewing sequins into, his lips getting sticky with all the fake blood across your torso, his-
Huh. Never had you realized yourself to be such a horny drunk.
“Now I need a cigarette,” you grumble, leaning away from him, trying to break whatever spell he was casting. None of your friends’ have even noticed the interaction happening on the couch, saving you from eternal embarrassment.
If you’d had less pinot noir and shots of Fireball whiskey in your veins, you’d probably still find the decency in you to be self-conscious at toying with these things in public. Maybe scold him, maybe douse out whatever flames he was attempting to ignite.
Eddie leans back as well, clearly satisfied with himself as he lifts Lestat up to preoccupy himself by pretending to study the lightened coloring of the snake. Mostly white, with splatterings of a traditional morph at random across the body. The woman who had sold the snake to the two of you had referred to it as a piebald. If you had been shopping with an actual breeder rather than a reputable rescue, he would have cost an arm and a leg.
Luck had been on your side the day you’d stumbled upon the snake. You wish luck was still on your side tonight.
Eddie sticks out the tip of his tongue to mimic the snake a few times before he focuses on you again, “You know, we could always see if Robin wants to watch him while we both go grab one.”
You have no clue how the girl had heard him from across the living room, but she suddenly appears at his side, just as eager in appearance as her original text giving the blessing to bring Lestat had been.
“Did someone say I could hold the snake?” she bounces a bit on the balls of her feet, looking down with utter fascination, “Please tell me you guys just said I could hold the little guy. When you first got him, I did a ton of research so I’d know proper handling tips, and also how to know if he gets too stressed. Also I may or may not have been nervous about how often they bite, but I found out that-”
“They don’t bite,” Eddie interrupts with reassurance, offering a small smile as he looks up to her, “At least, not very often. You usually have to aggravate them pretty badly, or catch them on a really shit day for them to strike.”
It had been a huge selling point in convincing him. Ball pythons were docile in nature, and they’d be quicker to match up to their namesake by balling up than actually strike out at someone.
Of course, the day you had been informing of this, you had no idea he was already aware of it. He knew they didn’t bite, he knew the specifics of what a habitat for them needed, he knew their dietary needs – he’d already had an Amazon shopping cart filled with supplies after the first time you brought the snake up to him, unbeknownst to you.
“Yeah,” Robin nods ferociously, hands reaching out carefully, already more than prepared to take the snake, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now hand over the baby and go do whatever debauchery you two are clearly wanting to get up to.”
“We aren’t getting up to debauchery!” you try to defend the two of you, watching Eddie carefully uncurl Lestat from his arm to pass him into Robin’s waiting hands, “Eddie just wants a cigarette and-”
“And you want to join him and probably get in some hot and steamy makeout sessions, right?” Robin finishes your sentence for you, quirking an eyebrow for a second before letting out a whisper of a squeal when Lestat takes to her quickly. His tail wraps around the length of her wrist and you’re shocked as you watch him stay just as curious as he had been while held by you and Eddie. A tad bit more reserved, but no sign of balling up any time soon.
Eddie stands from the couch, patting his largest back pocket to ensure his pack of cigarettes and lighter are still safely tucked into it, and you know it’s useless to keep arguing with Robin. She’s entirely entrapped by the snake in her hands now, whispering in a high-pitched tone that surprisingly doesn’t seem to bother Lestat. All her coos nearly resemble baby-talk. It’s cute – sort of. A direct mirror of how you and Eddie have been acting at home when you handle the ball python.
You stand slower than Eddie had, hawk eyes still glued to your friend, “Just- Just be careful, okay? Avoid touching his head, and don’t wave your hands around too much while talking, because it can scare him. He also might try and crawl up to your hair because Eddie lets him hide in his at home, and sometimes he’ll pull on it because it sticks to him, so just-”
“Sweetheart,” Eddie stresses, throwing an arm around your shoulders, giving your bicep opposite from him a quick squeeze, “She’ll be fine.”
Robin nods, clearly only half listening to the debate as she watches Lestat wander up her arm in clear wonder.
It sort of does feel like Lestat is your actual human child, as though you’re leaving your toddler with a babysitter for the first time.
Eddie tugs you deeper into his side, musky cinnamon and boyish charm filling your nose as he leans down and murmurs, “C’mon.”
A Ghost song starts to thump over the speakers as you allow Eddie to guide you over to the sliding door beside the kitchen, the layout different and even a tad bit nicer than your own apartment. It’s odd, the view of the kitchen being clearer than the living room, the exact opposite of how your home is.
Home. Even in your tipsy state, even after so much time having living with Eddie and even going as far as to now own a pet with him, the notion fills you with warmth.
Maybe you’re actually a sentimental drunk.
As the two of you pass by Argyle, he briefly lifts his head, cherry-shaded eyes peering up excitedly until Eddie quickly shakes his head, making the poor man sink back against the loveseat that he occupies with Jonathan and Nancy. You almost feel bad, but it’s clear Argyle is too far gone to even feel disappointment right now.
“After you, m’lady,” Eddie chivalrously slides the door open for you, half-bowing and putting on a half-assed British accent as he sweeps his arm for you to exit onto the balcony first.
“It’s Lady Gaga to you,” you snark as you slip out into the crisp Autumn air, cheeks cooling instantly.
“Oh,” the door slides shut with a soft thud behind Eddie as he joins you, face immediately covered by the shadows of the evening, “My apologies.”
It’s nice out. Far nicer than any October has been in the city in what feels like years. The air is refreshing, dare you even say sobering, and the city lights below wink at you as you hear all the distant noises of life. Car horns, children’s laughter, music from other parties. It sounds as though one of the neighbors below is blasting heavy rap, and you swear you can hear the trill of a radio pop song from your left.
Beer, cider, pumpkin spice – it all fills the air. It’s Halloween, and it’s nice.
The breeze is electric with all the livelihood, sending goosebumps up your arms as you approach the railing, looking out across a night sky painted some sort of faded cross between navy and grey rather than a stark black of midnight.
It all turns to static the moment Eddie wraps his arms around your waist from behind you, heavy pack of cigarettes in his palm as his lips find solace in one of the few bare patches of skin on your shoulder.
“God, I love Halloween,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot as it catches across your costume.
God, I love you.
You can’t help the cheesy thought as a hand comes up to grip Eddie’s forearm, giving three short squeezes, pulling him just a tad bit closer. But it’s true – Halloween was wonderful, you’d always enjoyed any excuse to get together with your friends and family, but it had never felt quite like this.
Planning cliche dates during the season, movie marathons spent cuddling up with your other half rather than sitting across on a couch from friends. Kisses in the pumpkin patch. Cider on his lips. Putting up decorations and ending up chasing each other around the apartment, landing in a pile of limbs that slot against one another perfectly. Arguing about which decorations should go on the balcony, which garland to line your front door with.
It wasn’t a replacement for spending time with your friends. And there were still crude jokes, still bickering over timing of plans and locations to visit. It still felt like spending the holiday with friends – it was spending it with your best friend.
Eddie Munson. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. The sentiment is unexpected to past you, but so entirely welcome by the you currently enveloped in his embrace.
“I used to insist on spending Halloween alone, you know,” you mumble as his chin digs in the point where your shoulder connects to your neck, vision blurring as you continue to stare out at the tiny busy streets, “Just, like, lay around in my dorm. Watch shitty horror movies on my laptop until I got too scared and had to find some dumb comedy to help me sleep. It was the only day of the year where my roommate sort of acknowledged my existence. She was the one who’d go out, and she’d get all this candy and share it with me.”
You don’t know the point of your rambling, but Eddie is listening intently anyways.
You turn carefully in his arms, now mesmerized by how his face looks in the warm glow of the seasonal lights Robin and Steve had put up. Shades of orange flickering across his amber eyes, shadows making all his sharpness in his features more prominent.
“Talking about it now sounds kind of boring,” you muse, laughing a bit dryly, “The most festive thing I would do was going to the Halloween store with Robin and Steve once they opened.”
“Yeah?” he asks softly, arms still tangled around you, grinning gently, “I don’t think that’s too boring.”
“It was,” you insist, pressing just a little closer to him, “God, it was so boring. Not going to the store with those idiots – I mean, that was pretty fun. But it was nothing compared to setting up a snake habitat, or carving pumpkins with you. Now I can watch whatever slasher you want before bed, and I still sleep just fine, cause I’ve got you to protect me.”
His smile matches your own – radiant, proud, happy.
“Oh, definitely,” he nods once, twice. So sure, ego inflated for the bit, “Any scary men with a chainsaw dare to break into our apartment, and I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
Our apartment. The perfect ring to it.
“Didn’t you scream about that spider in our apartment yesterday? Like, full on squeal, hopping up onto the couch, begging me to save you-”
He cuts off all your teasing, even though it was true, with a kiss. Simple, strong, sure. Fingers dancing under your chin to pull you up to him, meeting you halfway and not even hiding his smile at your antics as he effectively shuts you up.
“We agreed to not talk about that,” he mumbles against your lips, tasting like the last shot of whiskey he took with Nancy.
“You agreed to not talk about it,” you pester back, trying to pull away from his kiss. But his other hand comes up, trapping your face between both his palms, and it’s a useless effort, “I just promised to not immediately share the photo of you up on the couch with everyone.”
Half the words are hardly articulate as his lips continue to nip at yours, struggling from your wide smile and the way your entire body is shaking from your giggles. You can feel the cold metal of the railing brushing your exposed lower back, a breeze picking up that can be blamed for the goosebumps racing down your spine rather than Eddie’s wandering hand. It’s not devourment, it’s not desperation, it’s not Earth-shattering.
It’s something like mending. Something like a promise.
Living together, celebrating the holidays together, owning a pet together – they were all baby steps leading to something even brighter in the future. An unspoken truth between the both of you. An inevitable crescendo to all that had been built.
Eddie whines a bit when you pull away again, but this time, your forehead stays pressed to his. A joint effort between the way you tilt your head and the way his hands press you against him.
“Do you remember the last time we were on a balcony together?” you ask in a low whisper, trying to mimic the same suggestive tone that he’s always been able to put on at the drop of a hat.
You’re not quite as talented as him. You’re actually just a giggly drunk.
His brows furrow, “What? This morning?”
“No.”
“Two nights ago, when you insisted Lestat needed to see the moon?”
“No.”
“Are you talking about the afternoon we had a redo of our pumpkin carving contest? Because I still won again, fair and square, ba-”
“I’m talking about the bet, you idiot.”
His fingertips press a bit deeper into your flesh, his lips forming a wobbly ‘o’ as he stares down at you, “How was I supposed to know you were referring to that? That was definitely not the last time we were on a balcony together-”
You shut him up with the same courtesy as he had done to you, adding in a roll of your eyes before your hands wrap around his neck to pull him into you. This time, you make it hot and heavy. Lips and teeth and tongues, grabby hands from the both of you making their way across all the exposed skin and scraps of costumes you two wear. It takes Eddie aback at first, clearly not expecting the sudden passion, but he recovers quickly.
He remembers exactly what you’re referring to quickly.
Your back collides a bit harsher with the railing as he rolls his body up against yours, not a breath of space between the two of you as he wedges his knee between your thighs. You have no idea where his pack of cigarettes has vanished to, but you don’t care. All you really care about is the way he’s holding you, the way he’s suffocating you, the way he’s watering you.
It’s hard to believe the garden within that he’s nurtured at your side for the last year was ever something broken. That there was once a time it was nothing more than dried vines and pathetic blossoms begging to see the light of day. Now, the warmth of a thousand suns was gifted to you every morning you awoke to his smile. Every joke, every small caring act, every kiss stolen just because one of you felt like it. You two may have accidentally killed that first plant you bought the week you moved in properly with him, but this?
You can’t imagine a day where the two of you ever might let this die off.
His lips break from yours, predictably painting a path along your jaw as he murmurs, “I think I do remember. But, just in case – wanna remind me?”
And for a second, you almost do.
All your coils are tight across your body, burning in your abdomen and shaking in your knees, but all it takes is the faintest movement of a shadow to remember all your friends inside the apartment still.
“We can’t,” you whisper, as if they might hear you in the glass, trying to pry yourself away from him just as his teeth start to graze your neck, “Seriously - we can’t.”
Eddie chuckles lowly against your neck, and you know exactly why.
You’d started this without even considering the consequences.
“Started something you can’t finish, didn’t ya, baby?”
Oh, damn him. That stupid low and teasing tone. That dimple you can feel brush against your skin as he moves his mouth to the other side of your neck. All the heat in your body travels south, pooling between your hips, aching for him to go against your wishes to avoid embarrassment and just finish this.
He doesn’t, though. You’re starting to believe he’s less drunk than you are, a clearer mind than your own with far more sensibility than he seems capable of most of the time. His lips leave your neck, his hands finding the polite placement of hovering over your hips. The fog is starting to clear, if only just the slightest bit, and-
You were wrong. So, so wrong.
He’s not sensible. That wicked hand placement was nowhere near polite. In an instant, he’s latched onto you tightly and spun you around, quickly bending you over against the railing so your chest presses into the metal and the cold sends shockwaves across your entire body. Your ass is pressed to his crotch and one hand holds you securely, tight enough that he can be sure you won’t fall, as the other crawls up your back at impeccable speed to press you further down.
Immediately, you’re squealing, “Eddie!”
His laughter is just as loud as all your protests as you come face-to-face with the true height of a three-story balcony, knuckles paling from gripping onto the bars.
You’d hate him for it, but you feel the security of his palm and knuckles around your waist, and you know he’s not letting you go anywhere over that railing. He’s hardly even allowing your head to hang over it.
The moment you start to lean back up against his hand on your back, he’s allowing it immediately. There’s no friction or fight as you stand up straight once more, back against his chest and your hands already prepared to swing back to smack him before both of his arms come up around your shoulders and cross your chest.
“You asshole,” you gasp out, flailing hands deciding to grip strongly onto his forearms as he cradles you up in the tight embrace from behind, still chucking in your ear as you both take several steps back. Your heart pounds, and you’re pretty sure your nails are biting into his skin.
Maybe they’ll leave a mark – you hope they sort of hurt.
“Just had to make sure you really do remember that night,” he jokes, trying to lean his head far enough over your shoulder to get a good look at your face, “I think the bars would have been a bit more exposing, though, yeah?”
Your nails dig in deeper, and his grin widens.
Bastard.
“What if I had fallen?” you snap, finding it hard to be mad at him. Those damned strong arms around you, the thump of his own heart right against the space between your shoulder blades, that fucking dimple.
“I wouldn’t have let you.”
If the two of you had children some day, would they have his dimples?
“We’re both drunk-”
“I’m not that drunk.”
“-And I’m pretty sure this balcony isn’t up to OSHA standards-”
“Oh, it definitely isn’t.”
“-And you almost left our poor son motherless,” you finish off with a forced scowl, shaking off his embrace to face him properly, “Are you prepared for that? Were you prepared to be a single father?”
God, you hate his fucking smile. God, you hope if you have real kids someday, they have that same shit-eating grin.
With a pout of his lips, he steps back up to you, looking down tauntingly, “You’re right, baby. I didn’t even think about poor Lestat.”
You hum, standing your ground, but your defenses are quickly crumbling. Your mind is running with too many thoughts, exhausting itself over everything except the residing anger you should feel at your absolute nuisance of a boyfriend.
The feeling of being held down by him in that position once more. How the heat of his body had warmed you, and you’d only noticed now that the cool air was attacking your exposed back. Swimming in the visions of what color eyes your children might have, pigtail curls of a little girl with Eddie’s defiance or a little boy who wears his shit-eating grin as he exhibits your same unbreakable curiosity.
You definitely shouldn’t have drank so much tonight. It doesn’t matter what kind of drunk you are – it was a bad idea regardless.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Eddie’s voice takes you out of your thoughts as he slides his arms around your waist, always needing to be touching you, clingy to a ridiculous degree.
You weren’t complaining, though. How could you? If given the option, you’d make a home out of his bones in a fraction of a heartbeat as well.
“Nothin’,” you lie through a sigh, head tilted dramatically, much preferring to focus on the ginger contours of Eddie’s cheeks than whatever future Jack Daniels had been painting in your mind.
“Bullshit,” he doesn’t hesitate to call you out on it. And it’s not the alcohol fueling his boldness – it’s just how he is. He knows you better than the back of his hand, the roof of his mouth, his favorite songs on guitar. He knows you. “You got this dreamy look in your eyes, and you’re staring so hard over my shoulder, I’m almost scared I’ll turn around to see a ghost in the window-”
Jack Daniels will be your arch nemesis after tonight, the culprit behind the way the words suddenly tumble out of your mouth, “Do you think we’ll have kids someday?”
You wait for the air to leave the space between the two of you with the same urgency it’s left your lungs. You wait for a crack in the air, a chasm to suddenly appear. It’s heavy – God, it’s a heavy question to suddenly ask your boyfriend of one year at a Halloween party. You’re both drunk on your friends’ balcony, and you were having a perfectly sweet moment, and you’d just gone and ruined it. And to top it all off, Eddie was still just smiling, and-
Wait.
Eddie was smiling.
The air was still there, filling his lungs with calm breaths. No sign of fear within his twinkling eyes. No chasm squeezing between the stitches holding you two together.
He’s just smiling.
“Is that really what you were thinking about?” he quietly asks.
You almost don’t want to answer. You almost want to force out cackles of fake laughter, to double over and face the ground rather than his humored expression.
“Yeah.”
Maybe he doesn’t believe you yet, maybe he has to double check before he breaks out into his own laughter. Maybe the alcohol in both your veins is just delaying the inevitable that you’d been originally expecting.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Maybe not.
Instead of laughter, instead of mocking you, he keeps a cheery expression as he shrugs softly, “I mean, maybe? I sort of hope so. And, don’t get me wrong, I know a kid is a pretty far leap from a snake, but I’d say we make a pretty good team at keeping living things…. Well, living, y’know? Besides, I solemnly swear I won’t try to name our kids after Tolkien. I’ll reserve those names for the pets.”
All the air leaves your lungs again, but this time, it’s a little less painful, “What?”
“Annie’s a cute name,” he continues on, completely unphased. It’s nearly impossible to remember that you were the one who had started such a serious conversation about the future, “I also like the name Parker. I remember you mentioned that one once, right? Something about being able to nickname the kid Pac-Man, I’m pretty sure. I think that’d be pretty sick.”
And oh, was he right. You had mentioned the name Parker once. Just not to him. Not directly, at least.
The entire ridiculous make-believe scenario had come to you during a girls’ night, after one too many glasses of wine and Nancy bringing up the topic. You, her, and Robin had all spent a good hour coming up with names for children and the best nicknames to suit them. Some had been genuine, and some had been for nothing more than shits and giggles.
Parker, and the nickname Pac-Man, had been serious for you. Parker Anthony. You hadn’t figured out a second middle name to complete the initial acronym of Pac that night, the rosé eventually getting to you, but you had been serious.
“You were listening that night?” you breathe out, only feeling slightly betrayed, “What the Hell? I thought you said you were going to put your headphones on and listen to some Metallica to unwind after work.”
“I lied,” he cheeses, hot palms against your barren lower back, “I’m nosey. Sue me.”
“You could have just joined us, Eddie.”
“And miss the chance to hear you plot out the middle names of our future children?” Eddie snorts, “Not a chance, sweetheart.”
He says it so casually, you wonder if it’s possible for a heart to burst from optimism.
“So,” you pause, take a deep breath, feeling the embarrassment creep back up your throat, “Is that, uh…. Is that a yes? That you do think so?”
Why was it so hard to repeat yourself, to just say the words already spoken?
Eddie had made it clear you had nothing to lose. You two were on the same page. He hadn’t scoffed in your face, he hadn’t even pulled away at the mere mention of the idea. Instead, he had leaned fully into it, head-first as he slid right into the imaginary future with you. He’d given a name to the little girl with his hair and his spunk, to the little boy with his dimples and his mischief.
Was it still a little too soon, too fast? Was that where the hesitation was born from?
It just all felt a bit too easy. After the rocky start you two had endured, this entire last year had just felt too simple.
Of course, even if the hesitation was sitting there in the pit of your stomach alongside all of your anxieties, all of your waiting for the other shoe to drop, Eddie easily soothes it all over as he gives a slow nod and responds, “Yeah. I do – I really do.”
And you clearly wear your heart on your sleeve, emotions painted across your eyes and cheeks for him to read clear as day, because he notices that catch in your breath.
“Not right now,” he rushes to add on, “I mean, listen, we’re still adjusting to Lestat. I think I’d like to be a cat dad too, before I even think about being a girl dad.”
“You’re gonna be a girl dad?” you laugh out without thinking, starting to thaw into a conversation that Jack Daniels had begun but you know you can surely finish with Eddie at your side, “That’s… unexpected.”
His face scrunches for the first time during the entire conversation, “What? You don’t think I’d be a good girl dad? I already deal with my rat’s nest of hair, so I know I’d be at least decent at braiding. And can you imagine getting to take a mini-you to shows, or buying her some cute unicorn helmet once she’s old enough to ride ol’ Nightfury? God, I think I might die from cuteness overload…”
Your cheeks are aching, ears ringing with his words. But all you can do is latch onto one little phrase: mini-you.
Here you were, picturing duplicates of Eddie bounding around the two of you, and you hadn’t considered what he might be seeing.
Not a child with his spunk. No, he’s seeing a little girl with your wit. A little boy with your stubbornness. Those eyes of his, nearly resembling heart-shapes at this point, weren’t wanting to see carbon copies of his whiskey irises. He wanted yours to be looking back up at him.
Hearts clearly can’t burst from an overload of optimism, of happiness. Yours beats wildly as proof, still intact behind your ribs that bloom with rosebuds for the boy pressed to your front.
“Mini-me?” you murmur, making him trail off, focused entirely on you so sincerely you could choke up. You shake your head, letting out a soft huff of air, smiling down at the ground, “No, I- I think you’ll be an amazing dad, Eddie. I just didn’t…. I just forgot…”
“That I’m with you all the way?” he finishes your sentence for you, one eyebrow arched as he gives a squeeze to one of your hips, “You could decide tomorrow you don’t even want to talk about having a kid ever again, that you’d rather get ten more snakes and live as some sort of cryptic couple somewhere in the Midwest the rest of our lives, and I’d be just as excited. I don’t really care where we end up, sweetheart – I just care that it’s with you,” You can no longer tell if it’s his words or the remnants of alcohol in your system that has you tearing up. All you know is that you are, and it’s ridiculous, but it’s fine, because all you see are dark brown eyes and entire realms of possibility in front of you, “Girl dad, snake dad, cat dad – whatever you need from me, I’m your guy.”
When the first tear falls, you're quick to shoot one hand up to your cheek in order to swipe it away as the other reaches out blindly to smack Eddie softly, “Shut up. Stop being cheesy. I’m too drunk for this.”
“You’re right,” he nods ferociously, taking over the duty of wiping away your tears without so much as mentioning it, “Wanna make out again instead?”
You let out a snort, and it eggs him on.
“Or, hey,” his eyes light up, some of the seriousness of the moment fading naturally, “Maybe we ditch this party and start practicing. You know, in case we still want kids someday.”
His pupils widen a bit, and you know surely that it’s only half a joke. You don’t miss the way his breathing picks up at the thought.
“Careful, big boy,” you tease, leaning into his feathery touch on your cheek, relishing the way the nickname draws him under your spell even when you aren’t saying it with an ounce of gravity, “It’d be awfully dangerous to get yourself worked up in such short shorts.”
Saying it outloud almost makes you want to see it, genuinely.
“Worked up?” he scoffs, backing up a little, caught off-guard, “Who says I’m getting worked up? I’m not getting worked up.”
It doesn’t matter how many steps back he takes from you, you still follow, your palm still lands dead center on his chest as you roll your eyes, “Right. Because I’m totally meant to believe that the guy who used to jack off to Playboy magazines with girls who looked like me isn’t going to pop a boner at the thought of fucking a baby into me-”
He shuts you up with a kiss. Nearly more resembling a bite, his canines digging right into your bottom lip as he pulls you forward and collapses back against the glass door behind him.
No words are spoken, no subtle interruptions for this kiss. Toying a dangerous line, dancing along a narrow cliff, and he’s the one who’s decided to drag the two of you off of it.
You don’t mind. You’d follow him to the ends of the world if he asked you to.
When one of his hands reaches up to your scalp, tugging at the roots of your hair for no other reason than he can, your mouth opens up into a silent laugh. An invitation, a jeer, a challenge. A quiet whisper of go ahead, do it. Consume me already.
He’s already everything to you. He’s already a definition of home thinly veiled with skin and bones, a future with a heartbeat.
His tongue down your throat doesn’t change the matter. Just reclaims it.
A whine is lost in translation somewhere from the back of your throat and right into his cheeks. His right hand wraps around some of the skin of one of your thighs, encouraging it to lift up to his hip, and you can still feel the memory of his usual rings imprinting into your skin. A permanent tattoo, a ghost of a feeling that’ll haunt you for all time – you love it. You want to live there forever, right here in this haunted house, collecting memories and dust of all that he is.
Haunted houses are only lonely when you’re left to wander these halls all by yourself, and you think he’d truly cross over into the actual afterlife rather than leave you like that.
The kiss is almost enough to forget where you are and who’s waiting on you inside the apartment. It’s almost enough to have you recreating that fateful night from over a year ago, to let him bend you back over this balcony railing again, and this time, any squeals you let out won’t be of fear. You’d face that fall head on.
His hot hands on your waist, his tongue in your cheek, his knee once again pressed between your inner thighs. Him, him, him-
A sharp rap sounds on the sliding door behind Eddie, and you’ve never jumped apart faster.
It’s Robin and Nancy at the door, Lestat happily wrapped around Robin’s forearm as she waves and points eagerly to him and Nancy simply crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow as though she might have been a disappointed mother rather than a friend at the moment.
You done? Robin mouths, exaggerating her silent enunciation.
As you nod, Eddie only deeply sighs, throwing his head back against the glass with a soft thump. Nancy is quick to throw out a palm against the glass and tap back at him, mimicking swatting him for his theatrics.
Eddie pays no mind to Nancy’s retaliation, or maybe he just doesn’t see it, as he whines out, “I didn’t even get my cigarette.”
“Oh, cut it out, drama queen,” you snicker, trying to hide all your breathlessness as you fully pull away, “We’ve left our son alone long enough. You can chainsmoke to your heart’s desire once we get back home.”
You’re already walking towards the door, Nancy and Robin having retreated further into the kitchen, when he catches your wrist to tug you back close to him. He leans down, deliberate and careful to make sure his lips catch against the lobe of your ear, whispering soft as night, “Can’t chainsmoke if I’m too busy fucking a baby into you, sweetheart.”
It feels like someone’s poured literal fire across your body. As if flames have been dumped over the crown of your head, and are licking their pathway down your spine.
“Eddie.”
If you don’t get inside within the next ten seconds, you’re definitely going to make a decision you regret.
He’s chuckling the entire time he steps around you, opening the door and waving for you to slip inside in front of him. Your entire body is still burning so violently, you barely register the way his fingers hang at his side and make a point to brush the back of your thigh when you pass him.
Bastard, you want to snipe, but instead you just smile.
—
The next morning, you’re awoken by the incessant pinging of your phone.
You try to ignore it at first, burying your head deeper beneath the covers as a headache pulses at the edges of your mind, but after the fifth ping, it becomes impossible.
“Who the fuck is texting us this early?” Eddie’s muffled voice complains into his pillow, facedown with one arm thrown across you securely.
You can even feel him kick his bare legs in a show of defiance next to yours at the edge of the bed. If it wasn’t for the late night prior catching up to you, it’d be something sweet to laugh at.
“What time is it?” you croak, scooching further up the bed, making Eddie’s arm around you only tighten. As if he can stop you from getting out of bed, or delay the inevitable by resisting you checking the phone, “Is it even early?”
His free arm that had been tucked below his pillow flings out to the bedside table quickly, grabbing blindly for at least one of your phones. It doesn’t really matter if it’s yours or his; he’s got the password to both.
“It’s eight in the fucking morning,” he curses, seeming more awake as he notices that he was right in it being early. “How in the fuck is anyone up right now? We didn’t leave until nearly three.”
His arm is finally loose enough for you to sit up properly, tugging the comforter with you to keep your bare chest covered, “Lemme see it.”
“If it’s Harrington, can you post my bail for murder?”
“You’re not killing Steve,” you nonchalantly reply as you snatch the phone right out of his hand. It had been yours, unsurprisingly. You don’t even know if Eddie remembered to put his own phone on the charger before the two of you had promptly passed out. You hardly even remember how you managed to do so, “But – yeah, it’s Steve.”
“Fucking Harringt-”
“And Robin. And Jonathan.”
“Have I mentioned I hate our friends?”
The fog of sleep has officially lifted for you, and despite the wave of fatigue and aching joints you’d argue you’re far too young to be experiencing right now, you smile at your grumpy boyfriend. He exchanges his pillow for your stomach, shoving his entire cheek tightly to you as his arms wrap around you slowly. Clinging to you like a child, squinting against what little light pours in through the curtains.
“You don’t hate them,” you murmur, holding the phone in one hand to get a better look at the phone as the other cards through his curls, “You hate mornings.”
He hmphs in agreement, relaxing against your makeshift scalp massage.
DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A PHOTO OF ME WITH A SNAKE IN THIS CHAT?
BIRDIE: it is too early to be yelling
DINGUS: oh my bad
DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU, ROBIN, SEND A PHOTO OF A SNAKE IN THIS FUCKING CHAT? WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE IS THAT?
You can’t help the gasp that leaves your mouth as you begin to see what the entire commotion was, and Eddie is lifting his head immediately.
“What?” he questions, moving to lift himself up and peer over the top of the phone, nosier than ever, “Why did you gasp? Is someone dead?”
You scroll up, finding the photo being referred to.
“Not yet.”
Steve, clearly partaking in another round of karaoke. Eyes glazed over, mid stumble based on the blur.
“What do you mean not yet?”
Most impressively, most notably, is the snake around his neck.
Lestat, without a care in the world, his upper body being cradled by Steve’s palm as your drunk friend appears to be serenading the snake.
You bite back your smile, eyebrows high as you glance down at Eddie, “You remember when we let Steve sing Taylor Swift while holding Lestat? About… two and a half drinks after he finally noticed we had him, and he didn’t flip out courtesy to all that Absolute vodka?”
“Oh, fuck me.”
Eddie flings himself back to the edge of the bed in search of his phone just as another notification pings.
JOHNNY: I’ll do you one better. I have a video.
You don’t know if you’ve ever watched Eddie excitedly type on his phone faster than he does once he’s read that message, already giggling like a fool long before you can see what he’s sent in the chat.
LOVER BOY: Johnny, my boy, you can’t just say that and NOT send it.
JOHNNY: Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish.
DINGUS: WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE WAS IT? IS IT EDDIE’S?
YOU: i will not stand for this erasure of me as lestat’s mother.
Eddie snorts and looks up at you with glee as he reads your response, “He’s going to kill us, isn’t he?”
“Can we be buried next to each other?” you respond with a question instead, looking at him lazily, “We could have matching headstones.”
“Oh, hell yeah,” his grin is worth whatever Hell there may come to pay with Steve and the Lestat debacle last night, “Should we look up designs or-”
He’s cut off by the trill ringing of his own phone, watching several messages roll into the groupchat in quick succession.
DINGUS: who the fuck is lestat?
BIRDIE: the snake, dingus.
NANCE: As someone who has seen the video… I think Jonathan should send it.
DINGUS: DON’T YOU DARE
You’re a mess of hoarse giggles, hardly able to look at Eddie for the fear of both of you descending right into a madness of laughter. Like two children staying up too late at a sleepover, the room rings out with all your little noises, Eddie propping up his chin to watch you with the widest of smiles.
Except you’re not children – you’re just two idiots, in your shared apartment, with your shared snake in the living room and your shared friends blowing up both your phones.
Mornings have never felt quite as sweet as this kind.
“We’re gonna hear an earful next time he sees us, aren’t we?” Eddie finally sighs wistfully, rolling over flat on his back, head propped up slightly in your lap.
“Oh, definitely,” you nod, taking to twirling his frizzed curls around your knuckles this time rather than scratching mindlessly at his scalp, “But who cares? You saw how in love with the snake he was after a few drinks. He’ll come around, sober this time.”
Eddie doesn’t reply, eyes fluttering shut.
You let the two of you sit in the quiet a bit longer, phones still buzzing with new messages, but the chaos can wait. For now, you just want to drink it in. Rays of vivid sunlight, the silence from the lack of the buzzing AC unit, the birds chirping annoyingly outside the window. You have one foot in relaxation, and one foot in the hangover you know you’ll have to battle once you choose to leave this bed.
“You know what sounds good?” you question, nearly under your breath. You’re really thinking outloud more than anything, but Eddie still entertains you with a hum in his tired state, “Betty’s.”
He’s the equivalent of a puppy dog who’s heard the word walk. One second, Eddie Munson is seemingly dead to the world, and the next, he’s perked up entirely. If it wasn’t for his nude state, he’d probably already be out the door with his keys in hand, dragging you right along with him.
His eyes shimmer despite heavy lids as he asks, “Almond croissants?”
A small nod, an ever present smile. You recall the conversation from the night before as you look into those deep russet eyes, and you see an entire future of late nights and almond croissants reflected back.
twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)
→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn
→ warnings: strong language, smut (oral, f receiving), overload of cheesiness, upside down does not exist, minors dni
→ wc: 11.8k+
→ a/n: this might be the cheesiest, fluffiest thing i've ever written, and i can't even be bothered to care. it might be unrealistic. it might be too much. i do not care. this has been a long time coming and i think we all deserve all the cheese after this story.
i don't even know what to say besides thank you. thank you to everyone who followed along from the beginning, to those of you joined the journey along the way, to those of you who are reading as we finish it up. thank you for all the support and love you guys have shown this fic. i will always, always, appreciate it more than i know how to say. i love these idiots, and i love you all.
if you would like to see this story continued through small blurbs, my ask box is officially open to requests from this universe. i will also probably be posting some "beyond the hours" content over the next few weeks.
thank you. i love you.
without further ado...
masterlist.
spotify playlist.
EPILOGUE: A BET
TWO MONTHS LATER
“Why are there so many fuckin’ options?”
Eddie stares at the line up of smartphones before him, all different models and different physical sizes, different colors and different memory amounts.
“There’s not that many,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around him from behind as you rest your chin on his shoulder. It’s a bit of a stretch, making you lean up onto your tippy toes, “Besides, isn’t having options a good thing?”
He scoffs as he brings a hand up subconsciously to where your arms overlap on his torso, grip gentle as he runs a thumb over your skin and gives a squeeze, “Sure, options are great. But there’s at least twenty different iPhones on display here, sweetheart.”
The last few months had been interesting, to say the least. A new and exciting journey initially, but also a fairly stressful ordeal given all the hoops you two had been jumping through. You’re both busy people, having to suddenly figure out how to carve out a specific space for each other amongst bustling lives. It wasn’t the same as making time for friends or a weekly night out; it was figuring out times for dates, times for lazy afternoons, times for just you and just Eddie.
And, occasionally, time to take Eddie shopping for a new phone. Finally.
“Well, better pick one fast,” your fingers dig into his side playful, and he blows out an annoyed breath as he side-eyes you. You only retaliate in a fast peck to his cheek before whispering in his ear, “We’re gonna be late if you keep taking all day.”
It was Argyle’s birthday party tonight. His actual birthday wasn’t for another week, but he’d be venturing back home to California for that. And so the group elected to throw him a preemptive party at one of the group’s favorite bars.
Which — fine. Awesome. You were excited, you really were: you loved Argyle, you loved your friends, you even found yourself warming back up to parties.
But your friends didn’t know.
Two whole months, and neither you nor Eddie had told a single soul of what had become between you two. Not even Steve. Not even Nancy.
At first the excuse was to give this time to grow, to find your footing before you brought your lovable yet rambunctious group of friends into the equation. But then you two had found your footing, and you’d worried what they would say. Eddie had nearly made himself sick with anxiety over Nancy finding out he’d kept this relationship from her. They’d support you two — that wasn’t a worry. They’d proven that since the first time the entire group had hung out after the bet.
“So,” Robin started, narrowing her eyes at you and Eddie sitting on opposite ends of her and Steve’s couch. Neither of you had said a word to each other yet (Plenty had already been said that morning as you’d snuck him out of your dorm), “You two really aren’t together?”
“Why is everyone so adamant that the bet has to end with us getting together?” you jeered.
Eddie didn’t help the cause when he was quick to take your side, “Exactly! The bet’s over. We lasted twenty four hours. We’re friends now — isn’t that what you guys wanted?”
“I actually wanted to help you dudes plan a winter wedding,” Argyle chimed from the kitchen where he was retrieving a coke, “So I’m gonna side with Birdie on this one.”
“Of course you are,” you muttered beneath your breath.
Everything in you ached to be sitting next to Eddie rather than so far. You ached for his arm around you, his lips pressed to your temple. Just to share body heat, even — innocent thighs brushing with layers of denim between would have been enough.
“It’ll happen eventually,” Nancy mused from her seat on the kitchen counter, Jonathan beside her and matching her confident energy with a sly grin, “Just give them time.”
What they hadn’t realized is that it already did happen. The moment Eddie showed up to your dorm and the two of you said to Hell with space, it was inevitable.
Now, it was just the challenge of letting your friends in on the secret.
“What about the red one?” Eddie asks you as you finally unravel from him.
“Of course you’re choosing the red one.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scowls, no malice behind it as you step up to occupy the space next to him, brushing shoulders for only a moment before his hand is grabbing yours, intertwining fingers like second nature.
You recall that moment on his balcony, where he had once been so nervous and hesitant to hold your hand.
“Nothing,” you shake your head, smiling to yourself as you look at the specific model he was talking about, “You’re just getting a little bit predictable, Munson.”
He opens his mouth to argue, to nip back at what you always offer him, when one of the salesmen approach you two.
“Hi folks! Can I help you with anything today?”
Eddie squeezes your hand, no doubt in an effort to withhold his laughter at the man’s overly chirpy tone. You squeeze back, if for nothing more than to let him know you felt him.
Despite Eddie’s previous claim to a decision, he still chooses to entertain the man. Asking questions about different models, inquiring for recommendations as if they’d change his mind. They go back and forth, both polite enough, but the conversation easily bores you. In five seconds flat, your mind has officially wandered off.
You two hadn’t really discussed the specific details of the night to come. Whether you’d ride with Eddie there, how you’d navigate Eddie’s natural born clinginess once he got a few drinks in him, if tonight might be the night to finally tell your friends.
The last one felt a bit obvious. It was Argyle’s night — you didn’t want to snatch the attention from him for even a second.
But there were layers to your anxiety. Because it was more than just how to navigate how you two would display yourselves to your friends on nights out.
It had been two months, and you still hadn’t said those three little words back to Eddie.
He didn’t pressure you. He never once brought it back up, never once pressured you. But just because he wasn’t constantly reminding you vocally that he loved you didn’t mean you didn’t feel it. You’d felt it, impossible to miss, when all those lazy morning fantasies became reality. You felt it during movie marathons and you felt it every time he’d worship your body. It was there — in the late nights, in the early mornings, in the dull afternoons. A wild thing unleashed in your gardens, all those vines you’d worked so hard to see flourish threatened to be torn up by impatient claws at the feeling growing rapidly in your chest every time you looked at him.
And slowly, surely, you knew that there was only so much longer that like could suffice in describing your feelings for Eddie.
You were falling, whether he was aware or not. You just needed to figure out the right moment for those three little words to unstick, to go from hot honey on your tongue to easy breaths between you two. He’s given you time, he’d filled the months you’d awarded him with making up for every previously bitter exchange, and yet you still couldn’t give him this. And you’re starting to believe maybe that’s why you couldn’t imagine telling your friends yet.
You sort of hated yourself for it.
You’re pulled back to reality once the salesman departs, no doubt into the back to grab Eddie’s choice of phone. You don’t even have to ask; you know he got the red one.
“Hey,” Eddie fully turns to you, bringing your knuckles to his lips in chaste kisses. Your stomach still kicks with flutters, your heart still warms at the gesture. Eddie’s affection has yet to lose novelty, “Where’d you go?”
“What do you mean?” you twist your face, “I was here the entire tim-“
“Not where’d you physically go,” he clarifies, letting your conjoined hands drop back to the sliver of space between your bodies, “Mentally. Where’d your mind just go?”
You hadn’t thought he’d notice your drifting.
“Nowhere,” you shrug off.
“Nowhere? So you’re really just that interested in the newest iPhone model?”
He pointedly looks up at the widescreen display you don’t doubt you’d been blankly staring at the entirety of his conversation with the man who had yet to return.
“Oh, absolutely. You know me so well.”
All bark, no bite. These days, all the previous venom that had infected exchanges with Eddie prior to the bet had finally been sucked clean from the wound, long gone to make room for all the genuine affection to seep into its place. You still argued — or perhaps bantered was a better word for it — but you didn’t fight. You both still grated on one another’s nerves and managed to slither beneath the other’s skin, but not in an unwelcome way.
It was a nice change.
It made you hate yourself even more for not saying those three little words.
Eddie seemingly reads your mind, “Are you nervous for tonight?”
“I-“ you consider lying to him and saying it hadn’t even crossed your mind, but the look he gives you warns against it, “We just haven’t… discussed it.”
“What’s there to discuss?”
You hold up your interlocked hands for emphasis, raising your eyebrows at Eddie.
His mouth falls open softly, eyes widening, “Oh. Are you- Are you wanting to tell them tonight?”
No, your gut screams, absolutely not tonight.
“Is Argyle’s birthday party really the best time to explode their minds?”
You try to keep your tone teasing as you sense Eddie’s own nerves creeping up. Sometimes it was fun, standing in a room with everyone and pretending to be more akin to strangers than lovers. But sometimes, it was just plain painful. Sometimes, the entire group would be laughing at something, and you craved nothing more than to be pressed into Eddie’s side and feel the vibrations of his shared joy rather than just having to listen to it from across the room.
It’s not that you wanted to tell your friends and cause a scene — you just didn’t want to have to hide anymore. And maybe you wouldn’t have to, if you’d just tell him how you felt.
“Probably not,” Eddie murmurs, “I mean, it’s his night. We can always tell them the next time we all get together.”
The issue is that’s what the two of you always say. You always brush it off for the next time.
You can only sigh in defeat as you see the salesman finally bounding back out from the back room, a small box holding Eddie’s purchase in his grip, “Yeah. Next time.”
You can’t even be mad at next time. It’s the same thing you tell yourself every time you felt those words on the tip of your tongue, so close yet so far from revealing the most terrifying truth you’d discovered yet to Eddie.
You let go of his hand long enough for him to check out, hardly overhearing when he questions how they can transfer all the data from his current flip phone. When he seems particularly worried about pictures transferring, you don’t think anything of it.
—
STEVE-O: do i need to pick you up tonight?
You don’t see the text. You’re a bit busy with something when it comes through.
Something is currently still between your legs, curls threaded between your fingers as your back arches off his mattress and his name starts to come out as a desperate whimper rather than a chant.
STEVE-O: ???
The initial buzz of your phone on his nightstand doesn’t phase either of you. Eddie’s tongue still works you eagerly, circling your clit as you tug particularly harshly at his roots. Each flick sends white hot pleasure through your bones, nearly making you see stars.
“Fuck,” you gasp out when he brings his fingers into the mix. You can feel his smile against you as he curls his fingers inside of you, mimicking a come hither motion and relishing in your little pants as your thighs tighten around his shoulders, “Oh, fuck. Right there, Eddie. I- Eddie.”
The way you’re moaning his name only encourages him as he slips in a second finger, stretching you further. You feel cool metal bumping your entrance, sending shocks up your spine as his lips suction against you and he sucks hard.
He hadn’t even taken the time to remove his rings when the two of you had gotten home. He had been too eager, dragging you to his bedroom with his lips attached to your neck from the moment he’d shut the front door behind the two of you until he’d thrown you down on his bed.
“That’s right, baby,” his voice vibrates against your clit, “Say my name. Tell everyone who’s making you feel this goo-“
STEVE-O: helllooooo????
“Okay, who the fuck keeps texting you?” Eddie finally pulls back when he realizes you’re slipping out of that bubble he’d created, your head having turned towards the nightstand in curiosity, “Let me guess, it’s your other boyfriend?”
Your head is still spinning and your chest continues to heave from that lingering pleasure he’d been offering so generously to you. He sounds annoyed, but you can guarantee you’re even more irked.
“I don’t have another boyfriend,” you blandly reply, not taking his bait.
It only makes him wrap his hands around your thighs on his shoulder, giving a playful squeeze as you reach out for your phone.
“You sure?”
You squint at the notifications, but don’t properly read them, only rolling your eyes at both the fact that Steve’s the one interrupting this precious moment and at Eddie’s valiant teasing.
You slam the phone back down, eyes trailing down to his, “I am, but I can certainly find another boyfriend if you don’t get your mouth back on me in the next three seconds-“
He doesn’t need a second warning. In an instant, the warmth of his tongue is back on you, lapping at all the spots he’s come to memorize as of recently. That pleasure comes back into reach, edging your vision with feathery black as your eyes flutter shut and the coil in your stomach tightens.
You throw your head back into one of his pillows, one that has started to smell like your shampoo now rather than his, and let a drawn out whine escape your lips.
“You were saying?” he teases, grinning wickedly. He takes that brief moment to come up for air, turning and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh beside his cheek. Not hard enough to draw blood, and probably not hard enough to leave indents. But it is enough to have you preening once more as your heels dig into his bare back and you try to lift your hips, desperate for his mouth again.
He was edging you. Without even meaning to, he was repeatedly bringing you to the edge only to leave you teetering.
With your focus back on him, you can admire how pretty he looks. Mouth slick with you, pupils blown out, hair an absolute mess. You like him best this way, you think, when he looks so absolutely devoted to you. When he’s looking at you with a hunger you almost can’t place. It makes you want to scream from the rooftops about how you’ve fallen for him. How you feel so much more than like for your boy.
STEVE-O: seriously. if you don’t respond, you can just walk. you have five minutes.
At the buzz of the phone, your hands leave Eddie’s hair to form fists, pounding them into the mattress at your side in a brief tantrum. He ceases all actions, pulling his lips away from you again, and it only makes you pout more.
“Baby,” he coos, fingers trailing up the sides of your thighs before he reaches out to hold your fists down, “Maybe you should answer him. Tell him to fuck off-“
Eddie’s interrupted as your phone fully bursts to life with your ringtone.
You were going to kill Steve Harrington.
“On second thought, let me answer it,” Eddie groans as you reach out and grab it once more, “Give the fucker a piece of my mind.”
“Shut up,” you hiss as you realize it’s Robin calling. You turn the screen so he can see, and his eyebrows lift in surprise.
He makes no move to remove himself from between your legs, though. He stays face to face with your aching core.
“Hello?” you snap after swiping to answer.
“Finally! My God, Steve’s been texting you-“
“I didn’t see the texts.”
“Do you need a ride?”
“Nope.”
You’ve never been so short with your friends.
But that pleasure is slipping from you, the flames of your impending orgasm dying down to nothing more than embers. It’s enough to piss anyone off.
“Are you sure?” Robin asks, sounding genuinely concerned, “It’s kind of a far walk-“
“I’m running late,” you sigh, realizing that you were going to have to come up with a lie to get off the hook. Another thing you hated about the hiding — it led to your friendships being littered with dishonesty. Always a new excuse as to why you weren’t available, always feigning reasons as to why you didn’t reply to texts as timely as you used to. “With getting ready. I could- I don’t know, do you think Eddie might pick me up? Isn’t my dorm along the way to the bar from his place?”
At the mention of his name, he perks up. His cheek settles against the exact spot he had bit just moments before, nearly nuzzling into you as your free hand comes down to gently push back his bangs. On instinct, you find yourself soothingly pressing your fingertips in slow circles against his scalp. You’re nearly melting beneath his soft gaze, those big and wide eyes locked on you with bated breath.
“You want Eddie to pick you up?” you suddenly hear Steve exclaim in the background.
Your face scrunches up, a wrinkle forming across the bridge of your nose and between your brows. It’s so damn cute to Eddie that he can’t help but press a quick kiss to the skin he continues to lay into, beginning to smile as your absent-minded head massage continues.
So much more than like.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was on speaker.”
“Why do you want Munson to pick you up?” Steve ignores your sarcasm, voice sounding closer to the phone now, “He drives a motorcycle, you know. That’s dangerous.”
Eddie must be able to catch some of Steve’s shrill exclamation, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly. You feel his curious hum against your skin and you don’t hesitate putting your own pesky friends on speaker.
“Motorcycles are not that dangerous,” you retort, and it makes Eddie have to hide a slight scoff into your thigh in an effort to stay silent. It was ironic that they cared about how safe it would be for you to ride with Eddie on his bike now, after that allegedly dangerous vehicle had been your main source of transportation for nearly two months now, “He has a helmet, right?”
“Isn’t your dorm the opposite direction of the bar from his place?” Robin questions, “I mean, I’m all for you asking lover boy if he’ll give you a ride but-”
Steve interrupts her flatly, “It’s making him go out of his way. Besides, he might have already left for the bar by now.”
You don’t know what to silently laugh at first. The assumption they were making that couldn’t be further from the truth, or Robin’s new nickname for Eddie.
Lover boy is fitting for him in this current position. He’s still latching onto your leg, cuddling you in every way he could from where he laid, staring at you and hanging onto your every last word. The poster boy for pathetically in love, he gives your leg another kiss, starting a fiery trail with his lips until he reaches your knee. It pangs in your chest, wondering if he can see your feelings also painted so obviously across your face.
“Steve,” you murmur, breath catching in your throat as Eddie’s lips linger in the ditch of your knee. It takes a second to remember you’re on the phone, “No offense, but Eddie hasn’t been on time to a single get together the entire time I’ve known him.”
Eddie reacts in real time to your insult, forcing an over-exaggerated offended look before he bites you again. This time, his teeth do leave an imprint from his nip, and it makes you slap a hand over your mouth to avoid yelping.
Don’t bite me, you mouth at him.
Don’t be mean, he answers right back, silent as ever.
“Technically we’re all already late,” Steve points out. It makes you sit up quickly, startling Eddie in the process. You squint at the clock across the room and- fuck. Steve was right, “Nancy just texted me that she and Jon are there, Argyle’s on his way. She said she tried texting Eddie but didn’t get any response,” there’s a long pause as you motion wildly for Eddie to get up with you, the boy watching as you fling yourself off his mattress and carry the phone with you to his dresser, “Have… you heard from him recently?”
“Why are you saying it like that?” you jab, throwing open one of the drawers Eddie had cleared out for you to keep some clothes here in his apartment. At this point, a good chunk of the tuition you paid was going to waste considering the fact you rarely spent the night at your dorm. You were already half moved into Eddie’s space.
You try not to think too hard about it, because just last week, you’d had a panic attack at the revelation.
You were afraid of smothering him, even if he was the one always insisting you could leave more of your things here. He was always the one conning you into spending another night, promising soft murmurs of giving you a ride to class the next morning if you did. You rarely ever had much of the choice in the matter; once he’d wrap his arms around your waist, curl his body flush against yours, it was always game over.
Practically living together, and you still hadn’t said those words back to him.
“I’m not saying it like anything!” Steve defends himself, “I’m just asking an innocent question!” Eddie’s snort this time is audible, and you freeze as Steve clearly mistakes it for your laughter, “Shut up. It’s a reasonable question. You guys are friends now, remember?”
Friends. Of course, because all your friends jumped at the chance to bury their mouths against your cunt and make you cum repeatedly until you had tears streaming down your cheeks. Because you let all your friends sleep in the same bed as you, and wake you up by burying deep within you as they bite your shoulder with a moan. You and Eddie were friends.
“Trust me,” you glance over your shoulder in your haste, looking at Eddie as he stretches out on his side and props himself up on his elbow, “I remember.”
He gives you a knowing smile, squinting his eyes at you in entertainment.
“Babe, it really would just be easier for you to ride with us,” Robin’s voice sounds again as you tug a shirt out of the drawer, something casual and comfortable that you could style for the night, “Unless you’re just hellbent on having alone time with Eddie for some reason-”
“I’m not hellbent on being alone with him, Robs.”
Another lie. I definitely am. But not in the context you think.
“You just sound like you are.”
“Well, I’m not,” you yank a pair of black jeans free from the drawer and slam it shut, standing and turning to Eddie.
He hardly has time to react before you’re tossing your phone down on the mattress in front of him, the small device bouncing and hitting his chest. He winces and throws himself back dramatically, letting out a small oof that you pray neither Robin or Steve pick up on.
As you dress, throwing on the random t-shirt and shimmying on your jeans, Robins laughs, “Denial isn’t a good look on you.”
Eddie watches you, never moving to get ready himself. All he does is stare as you button up the pants.
When you give him an expectant look, he merely mouths, bra?
You shake your head. You don’t know where Eddie had flung your undergarment, and you’re not in the mood to frantically search for it. You’ve gone without a bra before – you can survive one night out without one.
Eddie’s entire face and chest immediately flushes pink. Cute.
“Now you guys are just being assholes,” you scowl despite the fact that only Eddie can see it, waving your hands to motion for him to get up and also get dressed, “I’m texting Eddie. If he has already left, I’ll just walk. Fuck you guys.”
“Tell lover boy I said hi,” Robin teases.
“Even if he’s already parked at the fucking bar at this point, we both know he’d jump right back on his bike and come pick you up,” Steve’s voice grumbles over the line.
It almost makes you smile. “Someone sounds jealous.”
“Not jealous, just annoyed,” Steve corrects as Eddie finally stands from the bed, “When are you two going to get your shit together?”
“What do you mean?” you play dumb.
You’ve had this conversation with your friends multiple times. They were truly going to have your head once they realized what you’d been keeping from them for months now.
“Don’t you have a 4.0 GPA?” Robin inserts herself back into the conversation, “You can’t possibly be this stupid.”
Eddie pauses in his fumbling with pulling his jeans from the pile he’d left his clothes in at the end of the beg, face scrunching in silent laughter. You almost walk over and smack his bare back angled towards you.
“First of all, no. I don’t have a 4.0 GPA. Thanks for the reminder,” you grab your phone back off of the bed and decide to leave Eddie behind in the room, heading into the bathroom to finish getting ready. You hate to admit it, but if you have to keep watching him giggle so cutely to himself, you’ll also probably break. And you aren’t in the mood for any further interrogation from Robin and Steve, “Second of all, I’m hanging up now. I’m going to call Eddie. At least he won’t be such a dick to me.”
“Oh, you must see the irony there-”
You cut Steve off, “Bye! See you in… like, ten minutes.”
Once you’ve hung up, you put your phone down on the bathroom counter and look up into the mirror. Your hair is a mess, wild and tangled from all the writhing you had been doing before being so rudely interrupted. You give it your best effort, trying to tame it a little bit to look more presentable, but it’s a lost cause at this point. Fuck it.
Eddie appears in the doorway behind you, fully dressed and his hair pulled back into a bun, leaning into the door frame with his arms crossed and an impish grin on display, “Oh, you’re going to call me now, sweetheart?”
You glare at him in a jocosely manner through the reflection, “Don’t look so proud of yourself.”
He pushes off the frame and comes up behind you, still locking his eyes only through the reflection as he leans his chin over your shoulder, “And what if I don’t want to give you a ride? You have been awfully mean – insulting my punctuality, throwing your phone at me, teasing me by going without a bra. The list goes on and on.”
Something deep within you stirs, those embers that still ache to burst into a forest fire. You hate that you could easily spend the entire night here with him, letting him take you every which way between his sheets. And even without sinful actions involved, you would be plenty content with just his presence tonight. As a matter of fact, you might be more content with that outcome rather than heading out to see your friends.
Sorry Argyle, you think guiltily.
“I’m teasing you?” you question just as his hands land on your hips, moving so that he was pressed firmly against the curve of your ass. Making sure you could feel how hard he was against the seam of his jeans’ zipper, “You didn’t even make me cum.”
“Seems like we’ll both be spending the night frustrated, then,” he smiles, almost gleefully, almost devilishly, “Besides, that was technically Harrington’s fault, not mine. We both know I usually have no problems making you cum on my tongue – without interruptions, of course.”
He rolls his hips ever so slightly into you, and your mouth falls open, eyes going glossy as you continue to stare him down through the mirror. The stirring in your abdomen is persistent now as your heart hammers against your ribs, mind melting and completely forgetting the obligation at hand.
And Eddie knows this. He’s well aware of the effect he’s having on you, and it’s deliberate.
Suddenly, his body completely pulls away from yours, “I’ll meet you downstairs. Don’t want to keep them waiting any longer, do we, sweetheart?”
Damn him. Damn him, and damn his dimples, and damn how good his legs look in those jeans as he’s walking away from me right now.
You linger in the apartment, alone, for a few extra minutes to compose yourself. Trying to quelch the heat between your hips that had slowly spread across your entire body, threatening to consume you. You even go as far as to splash cool water across your cheeks, giving yourself a few smacks for good measure as you try to prepare yourself to go into public and put on the usual act. And beneath it all, you also hush the animal in your chest, the one that claws at you to tell him. The one that wails everytime you simply tell him you like him, the one that roars when you let another moment slip you by. It has to quiet, just as your flames need to settle, all for the sake of the act.
You deserve a goddamn Oscar at this point.
After deciding that touching up your makeup would take up far too many precious seconds, you’re darting out of Eddie’s apartment, locking up behind yourself before you head down to where he’s waiting. He’s already straddling his parked bike, the engine roaring to life like the animal inside you as you exit the main doors of the building and his hands extend his only helmet. You don’t fight him on who’s going to wear it – that’s a battle, you’ve learned, you will always lose.
We really need to just buy a second helmet.
The thought makes you smile as you hold the clunky thing. Buying a second helmet. Something Eddie had never done before, because he had never had a regular passenger before. He had never had someone glued to his side as you had become, not even Nancy. It sounds terribly domestic; perusing aisles with him, debating which helmet fits your style best. He’d probably make a joke about your head being big. He’d probably tease you for looking at the ridiculously expensive ones and tell you to opt for a cheaper one. You’d probably end up with a pricier one in the cart regardless, and Eddie would probably refuse to let you pay for it.
Domesticity. The image of it doesn’t ache like it had that night all those months ago. This isn’t something you yearn for hopelessly, smoke and mirrors that dissipate when you dare to reach out for it. It’s something finally in your grasp. Something tangible and something bound to happen, all you’d have to do is say the word and Eddie would comply eagerly.
Anything to keep my girl safe, as he would tell you any time you pointed out how dangerous it was for him to go without a helmet. He’d gotten creative in saying his own version of those three little words.
“M’lady,” he hums, nodding for you to put the helmet on before sweeping a hand over the empty space in the seat behind him, “Your chariot awaits.”
You don’t have a snarky quip to throw back at him, only grinning at the ground as you flip the helmet around a few times to prepare to put it on. All those embers aren’t just desire for him – there’s a warmth there that always exists. A candle on the windowsill of the home you had finally found.
You raise the clunky thing and tilt your head when Eddie suddenly says, “Oh, and babe?”
Immediately, you lower it, eyes wide in curiosity, “What?”
“That’s my shirt.”
“What?”
He motions to the t-shirt tucked carefully into your jeans, “That fine shirt you are currently wearing is mine.”
You look down, and he’s right. It’s too late to go back inside to change, and you know he’s aware of this when you catch his amused smirk. He probably noticed the moment you had put it on, and had deliberately waited until it was too late for you to do anything about it to inform you.
Bastard.
“I-” you pinch the fabric between your fingers, looking between it and Eddie wildly for a second before your shoulders slumped in defeat, “It’s fine. I doubt they’ll even notice.”
—
You were wrong. They do notice.
Everyone is already waiting inside for the two of you, nestled around a table in the bar in a similar arrangement to the very first night you’d been introduced to the group. There’s only two empty seats left conveniently, right next to each other. You don’t miss that mischievous look of success on Robin’s face as she looks overly proud of herself.
They’d set it up so we’d sit next to each other.
You’re grateful for your friends’ antics until you go to take the empty seat next to Steve.
“Is that Eddie’s shirt?”
Robin is leaning around Steve eagerly as she says it, ridiculing the shirt intensely.
“What?” you laugh nervously, looking down and tugging at the fabric.
Lie. Make up a lie. Make it good.
“That is Eddie’s shirt,” Nancy looks surprised across the table, looking up at the two of you questioningly.
“What?” you repeat yourself. Eddie has already taken his seat, and is avoiding the stares of everyone, “No, it’s not.”
“He has one just like it,” Jonathan adds fuel to the fire, “He literally wore it - what? Two days ago?”
In a pathetic attempt of an excuse, you plop down in your seat and force an offended look, “People can own the same shirt. He’s not the gatekeeper of-” you look down, and nearly erupt in embarrassment when you see what the shirt is. “Deftones.”
Ah, fuck.
It’s not just the embarrassment of being on the verge of getting caught in your lie – it’s the memories that flood back. You, on Eddie’s lap. Your mouth and his becoming one. Steve calling, and you sucking so innocently on Eddie’s neck.
Fuck.
You really wish Steve and Robin hadn’t interrupted earlier.
“It’s not like I got it at a show,” Eddie shrugs, and you wonder for a moment if he’s lying, “They’ve gotten more popular lately. I’ve seen their shit in Target.”
“Exactly!” you exclaim a little too loudly, a little too quick to defend yourself, “Exactly. I just thought it looked cool at Target. Besides, tonight is about Argyle.”
You smile at the birthday boy, and he returns the joy as he waves a little at you. The reminder is all it takes for everyone’s attention to return to the focus of the night – everyone’s attention but Nancy’s.
You can feel her eyes on you as conversation sparks up and debates of ordering shots begin. Everyone is busy asking Argyle what his plans for next weekend are – which are mostly composed of normal family gatherings, probably a homemade cake, etc. – but Nancy is watching you and Eddie like a hawk. In the peripheral of your eye, you watch the way she leans back so casually into Jonathan's around her shoulder, looking like she knows. You’re probably just being paranoid. You’re definitely just being paranoid.
You try to ignore it, and instead let yourself just enjoy the moment. All your friends gathered, a group in which you finally feel like you belong to, jokes being made and laughter being exchanged that has you feeling a bit giddy. It’s nice. Even between the smoke of the room and the flickering lights overhead, murmuring chatter of nearby patrons mingling right in with your group’s noise, it’s homely. The smell of drunken cigars and fruity cocktails should be overwhelming, but you just let it wrap you up instead.
And when you turn your head, inhaling deeply the smell of cinnamon and musk rather than all those other foreign anomalies, you find Eddie already looking at you. Soft eyes, bitten grin, a few loose curls framing his cheeks as his bangs curl up into his forehead. Even in the shoddy lighting, he takes your breath away.
He’s looking at you. Just like that first night. Dozens of other people in this room at this moment, and he only has eyes for one – he only has eyes for you.
“So!” Argyle announces, “I think, my dudes, instead of doing what Birdie had so… excitedly suggested,” and oh, he was being generous and calling Robin suggesting he took twenty three shots for his twenty third birthday just her being excited rather than foolish, “We should just take the twenty three shots and split them up amongst the group.”
Steve and Jonathan immediately groan, protesting how they’re driving, and Eddie only shakes his head with a chuckle. So far, he’d only ordered and been nursing on a plain coke, no whiskey.
Somehow, sitting beside him with the group is worse than keeping distance.
When he’d taken off his jacket, you’d silently begged for him to rest an arm across the back of your chair just as Jonathan was doing to Nancy. And he had, almost too naturally before he’d caught himself. It would have been easier to play off cooly, probably would have gone unnoticed, but your boy had practically jumped out of his bones as he’d flinched and tucked his arm back into himself suddenly. He’d even bumped his elbow against his own seat in his haste.
And Nancy had noticed.
“That’s only three shots per person!” Argyle defends, “Four for me, since you know – birthday boy.”
While Eddie may be avoiding alcohol tonight, you aren’t. Not unusual, but it had been odd when Eddie had told the waitress your order of an amaretto sour rather than you telling her yourself.
Another strike. Another thing Nancy had noticed with her watchful eye.
“I’m down,” you shrug, “Hell, I’ll even take an extra shot if those two dumbasses won’t.”
“Is that a good idea?”
You wish Eddie had been drinking to excuse his idiocracy. Because all it takes is him saying that, not with malice but with concern, and the look on Nancy’s face told you she was officially catching on.
He hadn’t said it with the concern of a friend prepared to warn against drinking yourself sick. He’d said it with the concern of someone who would be taking care of you by the end of the night, of someone who would be dealing with the aftermath of that many shots.
You two were bombing this whole secrecy, to put it lightly.
You try to save the moment but laughing it off, turning to him slightly and teasing, “What, are you my keeper now?”
Despite your best efforts, the statement doesn’t come across as friendly banter. It’s not quite fighting either. It’s a dare, you dangling something in Eddie’s face that no one else at this table quite sees. A stupid, idiotic continuation of your flirtatious game of cat and mouse from earlier in the apartment, when he’d deliberately gotten you hot and bothered. When he’d deliberately let you leave in his shirt. His palm is warm when he shifts ever so slightly, placing it on your thigh beneath the table. Out of sight from everyone else. Fueling and fanning all your growing flames.
You two were toeing a very dangerous line tonight.
His eyes darken a bit, and you pray no one else notices in the dim bar lighting, “I don’t know, am I?”
Everyone is distracted enough with your idea. Steve and Jonathan were agreeing, saying they could take one shot and then others in the group could shoulder the extras. Robin was quick to also say she’ll take an extra one. But Nancy is silent, watching your quiet exchange with Eddie.
“I don’t think you are, Munson.”
Except he is. Without a single doubt in your bones, you know that he is.
Your playful smile betrays you. It tugs up the corners of your mouth and it’s clear to any outsider this wasn’t a brewing argument. The game was obvious if anyone was watching close enough. And Nancy, ever the smart one, was watching close enough.
She’s playing her cards right, you realize, when she waits until the group has ordered the round of shots to say anything.
“So, Eddie,” she begins, drawing the entire group’s attention to her best friend, “Do anything fun today?”
He nearly chokes on his coke subtly. “I- Um-”
“You just didn’t answer any of my texts today,” she continues on, “Must have been busy, yeah?”
Eddie retracts his hand from your thigh, far more elusive in this action than he had been about removing his arm from your chair, before he fiddles with his hands in his lap. “Yeah – no, yeah. Sorry about that, Nance.”
He pulls his phone from his pocket for no apparent reason. The shiny new smartphone, having not even bought a case or screen protector yet. You’d already yelled at him for that, claiming out of everyone, you trust him the least to not break the phone on the first day. He’d only laughed and shut you up with a kiss.
His new phone is placed face down on the table, cherry red glinting, “I just had to go to the mall and-”
“Is that a new phone?” Argyle interrupts him, catching sight of the movement and the glinting, “Oh, holy shit, my dude! That’s a new phone! That is an iPhone if I’ve ever seen one!”
Everyone – Robin, Steve, Jonathan – are rapidly leaning to catch sight of it as if they can’t believe it. Eddie continues to shrink at being the center of attention suddenly.
“It is,” Steve laughs in disbelief, “Never thought I’d see the day, Munson.”
Robin scrunches her face, “Does this mean we have to add him to the group chat?”
You let out a giggle at that, lips pressed to try and contain some of that smile breaking through as you look at him and wiggle your brows. He immediately rolls his eyes, but picks up the phone regardless to give everyone a better look.
“Yes, yes. I’ve finally joined the dark side,” he teases everyone just as the waitress returns with the tray of shots. Jonathan is the only one with enough sense to look away from Eddie’s spectacle, thanking her kindly, “Feast your eyes, my friends, for this is where my five hundred dollars went-”
“Holy shit.”
Nancy’s sudden whisper of an exclamation has everyone freezing. Eddie stops spinning and flipping the phone to show it off, staring at her with nothing but concerned, “What? What happen-”
Nancy shares a look with Robin as they both grin.
Oh no.
“Eddie,” Nancy says slowly, turning her head back his way slowly.
“What?” Eddie frowns, eyes flitting back and forth between Nancy and Robin.
Robin is the one to ask the question rather than Nancy, “What exactly is your lockscreen?”
Eddie goes pale. You’re confused, looking at the phone he’s currently cradling with the screen against his palm.
Did he even change it? Wouldn’t it just be one of the default ones?
“Guys,” you decide to come to his rescue, still impossibly confused, “It’s probably just some default screen, don’t tease him.”
“That was not a default screen,” Nancy laughs out.
Argyle looks around at everyone. Nancy and Robin, both with mischievous glints in their eyes. Eddie, still ghostly white as if he’s been caught red-handed. Steve and Jonathan, both just shrugging at each other. “Uh…. Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?”
“Show the class your lock screen, Eds.”
“Fuck off, Nancy.”
“Oh my God,” Robin coos, leaning across Steve and pressing you back gently to catch sight of Eddie, who’s dipping his face down, “He’s blushing!”
“Guys, leave him alone,” Steve insists, sharing a look with you now. But you have no clue what’s going on.
You have no clue what his lockscreen is.
“Edward Munson, show us that lockscreen right now, or I’m Venmo-requesting five hundred dollars from you,” Robin continues to threaten.
You look away from Steve and at Eddie immediately, leaning in closer to his space. He looks at you, clearly focusing on your presence more than everyone else’s, and smiles like a child trying to get out of trouble.
“Eddie,” you say quietly, almost impossible for your friends to hear, “What the fuck is your lockscreen?”
He slowly and carefully turns the screen towards you, making sure only your eyes can see it, and- oh.
It’s a low quality photo. Clearly taken on his flip phone. Details just a little fuzzy, and the darkness of the photo wasn’t helping. But you can see it clearly. You can make out exactly what it was that had Nancy and Robin losing their minds.
It’s a picture of you and Eddie, with your head on Eddie’s chest.
For a moment, everyone else at the table doesn’t exist. You hadn’t been insane that night – he had taken a photo. A snapshot of the moment where everything had changed. The moment in which you had given up the fight and completely succumbed to just how much Eddie meant to you, how badly you pined for him and how deeply you liked him.
“I was going to make it the one of you at Betty’s,” he whispers, “But, I just- I really liked this photo.”
He’s still tense, as if he expects you to be upset with him.
You’re the farthest thing from upset at him.
“You made me your lockscreen?” you breathe out, a slow-growing smile beginning to stretch your lips.
You’re not upset at him. As a matter of fact, you’re in love with him. You want to scream it from every rooftop, shout it to every stranger on the street – you are in love with Eddie Munson.
And you have been for a while. You just hadn’t found a way to tell him yet.
“Yeah,” he loosens up a little when he realizes you’re happy, enamored with the fact, “Yeah, of course I did. Who else am I going to make it besides my favorite…. Enemy?”
He says it loud enough for everyone to hear clearly. All of Nancy’s teasing has come to a halt, Robin has settled back into her chair, and Steve is finally looking too curious for his own good.
“As birthday boy,” Argyle breaks the moment, shatters away the bubble you and Eddie always seemed to end up in, “I am demanding I get to see this lockscreen.”
Eddie doesn’t make any move to show the screen to any other person, only watching you for approval.
Well, so much for next time.
You give him a little nod.
Eddie makes a dramatic show of it, sighing heavily before he very slowly turns his lockscreen to face everyone else. But even in his dramatics, you can see that weight lifting off his chest.
This, as a matter of fact, changes everything.
No more hiding, no more lying. One simple flash of his phone screen, of a photo he had taken on a night that no one has even been gifted the details of yet, and all your friends suddenly know.
The reactions all vary.
Argyle leans forward and squints before his face breaks out into pure joy for the two of you, “Oh, fuck yes! Best birthday gift ever. Pay up, my dudes!”
Jonathan leans backward, digging out his wallet as he murmurs, “Son of a bitch.”
Steve only smiles and shakes his head, also digging for his wallet as he seemingly chastizes himself, “I should have fucking known.”
“Hold on,” you look between everyone as Jonathan digs out a couple twenties, “Wait, did you guys fucking bet on this?”
“We did,” Robin answers you, holding up a hand to make Jonathan and Steve pause their retrieval of cash, “What do you take us for? Idiots? Now, gentlemen, before either of you payout, we’ve gotta ask the most important question,” she shoves a palm against Steve’s chest so that he’s out of line of sight, gaze set on you and Eddie, “When did this happen?”
You don’t have any time to be mad at your friends. Because when Robin asks you this, suddenly you’re back to two months ago. You’re outside your dorm with Eddie, kissing him as if tomorrow would never be promised, and you’re home.
You pulled back from Eddie finally, both of you gasping for breath as he held you steady. Your exchange from moments before still hung heavy in the air.
You liked him, you liked him, you liked him.
And the feeling was mutual.
You’d already known, but it was nice to hear. It was nice to be reminded that this, what had happened between you two, was so very real.
“I don’t wanna start over,” the words tumbled from your tongue before you could consider them, upheaving from your chest, desperate for Eddie to heard them, “I- I don’t need to start over. I like our story, okay? You had been right – it wasn’t all bad, and… and I don’t want to start over. I never want you to be a stranger again, and I know that sounds stupid-”
“It’s not stupid,” he interrupted you, forehead meeting yours, “So very not stupid.”
“I don’t care if you were a dick,” you continued on, carefully, “I was, too. We were both… shitty. I forgive you. I’ll forgive you a thousand times over, as long as you keep trying to make it up to me.”
“Make it up to you?” he grinned playfully, “And just how do you suggest I start making it up to you?”
“Ask me out,” his eyebrows raised in surprise, and you knew you must have looked like a wild idiot to everyone else, but you didn’t care, “To dinner, to a movie, to just hang around your apartment with you for another twenty four hours – I don’t care. Just… Just please, Munson, ask me out.”
And so he had. A first date, a second date, a third. You two had gone through the entire ordeal of every cliche relationship despite the unconventional beginning. You’d gone to dinner, you’d gone to a movie, and you had done plenty of hanging out around his apartment and more.
“The night of the bet,” Eddie answers as he finally brings an arm up around your shoulders, just as he had wanted to earlier.
Immediately, both Robin and Argyle let out their own curses, pulling out their wallets just as Steve and Jonathan had.
You look between them, all the annoyance you should feel just being run over with adoration for these idiots. Your eyes land on Nancy, and when you realize she’s the only one at the table not coughing up any cash, you ask her, “I’m assuming you guessed correctly?”
“I did,” she nods, looking proud of herself.
“How’d you know?”
Nancy raises a threatening finger, before suddenly pointing it right in Eddie’s direction, “That idiot has always been down bad for you-”
“Okay, okay,” Eddie stops her, “I’ve already told her the nitty gritty details. No need to embarrass me.”
“No need to embarrass you?” Nancy asks in disbelief, “Good God, just how many times did I have to sit and listen to you pine for her? No, no – I have earned this, Munson.”
You look at Eddie, a glint in your eye, “You only told me about the first time.”
“I only remembered the first time,” he counters, blushing under yellow and faded lights, “I was usually dru-”
“Don’t lie,” Nancy stops him, “There were plenty of rants where you were dead sober.”
Everyone only smiles at Eddie, a few teasing comments made his way, but none of them matter as you lean into his side, your shoulder bumping his to the best of your ability with his arm still around you.
“Aw, babe,” you coo, warm all over for the man beside you, “You had a crush on me? That’s cute.”
His chin lowers, eyes boring into yours with unlimited affection. For a moment, it’s just you and Eddie. The guise of you two having your own bubble of a moment.
His head tilts further, his ears brushing your ear as he whispers for just you to hear, “So did you, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Not mistaken,” you whisper back. Money is now being exchanged, tossed across the table with grumbles that hold no heat.
Yeah, you did have a crush on Eddie. You still do. You don’t think you’ll ever stop having a crush on him, even as he’s surrendered himself as yours. Especially not when his thumb is stroking your shoulder as it is now.
Just like that very first night. The smoky bar fades to nothingness, your tunnel vision focused on Eddie. You know jokes are being made about the two of you by your friends, but it’s all white noise when he’s looking at you like this. Like you’re everything to him, like he’s just returned home after a long week.
You’d really like to be his home to return to after every long week, for the rest of your lives, but there’ll be time to ponder on that later. For now, you two have time.
The voice inside your head suddenly comes to life as it recognizes that this is your moment. You can tell him. Now that you’ve told everyone else, you can tell him those three words. Finally get them off your chest. Make it real.
“Hey, Munson,” you say, still quiet enough for the words to only reach his ears. He perks up, eager to drink your next words. You have all his attention. You always have all his attention, “I-” and then you choke. He stares curiously for a few seconds, and the words just won’t come out. You want to scream – you wonder if it would work if you screeched the three words at the top of your lungs. Probably not, “I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me,” a pathetic excuse at a coverup, “And… I’m really glad they made that first bet.”
He smiles so softly, it strikes you right in the center of your chest. Right amongst your garden that not only had you tended for him, but that he had also had a hand in watering these last few months.
You should have told him. You love him, and you should have told him.
“I’m really glad I didn’t hate you, too,” he remarks, squeezing your shoulder a little tighter, “Actually, I’m glad you don’t hate me. Not anymore, at least.”
“I never really did.”
“You definitely sort of did. You tried to take me out with a glass, remember?”
You burst into secluded laughter, hearing your friends beginning to pass around the shots but paying them no mind.
Eddie can’t help it. He pulls you in close, placing an impulsive kiss to your temple and letting his lips linger there. Just pressed against you, breathing in the scent of you.
That kiss sends shivers down your spine, warmth through the center of your bones. You love him.
You love him, you love him, you love him.
So why can’t you just tell him that?
“Aw!” Robin pulls the two out of your bubble, “Aren’t they just adorable?”
“Yes, yes,” Steve passes two shot glasses down to your end of the table, “Absolutely adorable. It’s nauseating. Also, I’d like to go on record – I totally knew the entire time. I was just giving them the benefit of the doubt.”
“Playing the Devil’s advocate?” Argyle asks, lining up his multiple shots, “I dig it. Even though you’re totally lying right now.”
“You’re so lucky it’s your birthday, dude,” Steve rolls his eyes, clearly holding back an insult.
Eddie’s arm stays heavy on you, a welcome weight as you sit up straighter to take your own several shots.
These were your friends. Somewhere you belonged, filled with people you loved and a boy you could come home to after all your long weeks. A certain happiness that is rare, and impossible to place, and can nearly bring you to tears overwhelms you as you grab that first shot.
“Also-” Steve turns to you and Eddie, “I knew that was Munson’s shirt. The day he got it, all he did was brag about what a rare find it was. Fuck off with your Target bullshit.”
Eddie’s hand leaves your shoulder long enough to reach out and thump Steve, laughter booming and vibrating against you, “Sure you did, Stevie.”
“Target has some nice things,” Nancy offers with a shrug, now holding her own shot glass.
The seven of you all hold up the first of what will probably be too many shots tonight, the beginning of a night that will probably be remembered through killer hangovers tomorrow and possibly even captured on camera by the likes of Jonathan, Steve, and Eddie.
“To Argyle,” you take the lead on the cheers, jittery and anxious as all the love you continue to withhold buzzes in your chest, lifting your small glass in his direction, “The most lovable twenty three year old I know.”
Everyone moves to drink, but Argyle immediately shakes his head, “Nah, fuck that. It’s not even my birthday yet – I demand a new toast.”
He lifts his brows, staring you down and silently adding, you know what to do.
And yeah, you did know what to do.
“Fine,” you sigh dramatically, leaning further forward, Eddie’s arm following. You relish in the tense silence as everyone waits for what you’re about to say instead. Even Eddie is waiting with bated breath, watching your every move, a contrasting yet easy smile on his face, “To bets.”
A booming applause from your group. Glasses tapping against the wooden table before shots are downed. Groans of disgust as the tequila hits everyones’ tongues.
Eddie hardly waits before you’ve both swallowed to remove his arm and grab your face, turning your cheek so that his lips can capture yours. Everyone only cheers louder, Steve letting out an obnoxious whistle as Argyle claps. You’re surely going to get kicked out of the bar at this rate. But you really don’t care as you kiss your boy back.
Next time. You have to tell him next time.
—
The night ends in more of a whisper than a bang, surprisingly.
Everyone has suddenly become a happy drunk, probably from all the love and good news passed around throughout the night. It’s all warm feelings and warm hugs, tequila on the breath and love on the mind.
You don’t even get kicked out of the bar. Your waitress only smiles at your rowdy table from time to time, and you figure that all the good vibes must be rubbing off on her.
Steve is the first to call it quits. Robin has drank enough to give herself the hiccups, and he says that after that, she almost always gets viciously nauseous. He wants to get in the car and home before she gets to the point, for the sake of his car’s interior not getting covered in puke.
It’s a domino effect from there.
Argyle quickly agrees, Jonathan offers a guiding arm to Nancy, and Eddie’s arm only tightens around you. The group closes out the tab, putting off worries of everyone paying Jonathan back until tomorrow. Quick, simple, painless.
Until you all get outside. And goodbyes are exchanged – that’s not the part that gets to you – with promises of seeing each other throughout the week. Everyone congratulates you and Eddie one more time for good measure, Nancy and Steve looking the most proud of you two as Argyle and Robin giggle like children about it. And it’s fine – you laugh along and it’s all good. You let them get in all their I told you so’s and know it’s all in good fun.
It’s all fine. Until you two branch off from the group, Eddie’s bike across the lot from everyone else’s cars.
The moment you two are alone, you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or if it’s the levity of suddenly having a moment that only belongs to you. Your mind wastes no time of reminding you of your pathetic cop out: I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me. None of those words even sound akin to the real ones you should have said.
I love you.
It’s not because your friends have found out. You know it’s not that, because just last week, right after your breakdown about whether you were smothering Eddie by half-living in his apartment, you’d had a breakdown because you realized you wanted to fully live in his apartment. You’d had a breakdown because you hadn’t grown tired of him yet, hadn’t satisfied the need to see his face every morning when you first wake up yet. You hadn’t gotten bored with all his lingering affectionate touches. You hadn’t gotten used to the way he’d kiss you in the middle of sentences. He was still taking your breath away, two months later, and you had a breakdown because you realized it wasn’t novelty or a pathetic crush making you feel this way.
You had a breakdown because you love Eddie.
You love him, ardently so, and you still can’t find the right moment to say those words to him. He deserves to know – the entire foundation of this relationship was honesty.
It’s all you can think about as his hand finds yours and he’s walking up to his bike, practically dragging you up to his bike as your legs forget how to work amongst nerves.
“So, I was thinking,” he carries on conversation so casually, “You want to spend the night at my place? I know you said you don’t have any class-“
Now. Not later, not next time. Now.
“Hey, Eddie?” you interrupt him, stopping the two of you a few paces away from his bike.
His face is impossibly concerned as he looks down at you, clearly reading the worry on your face, “What’s up, babe?”
Here goes nothing – be brave.
“I-”
Why is this so hard?
It shouldn’t be this hard, because loving Eddie is easy.
It’s easy when he’s looking at you like this, like he always does. It’s easy when he wakes up after you, and he comes into the kitchen to just wrap himself around you as you make him coffee, no matter what time of day it might be. It’s easy when he catches your eye from across the room during outings, sometimes winking once he knows you’ve found his gaze, just to see you laugh. It’s easy when he tries to distract you from homework when you’ve been spending far too many hours hunched over your laptop on his couch, coming and bugging you, laying his head on your lap and insisting his girl needs a break. It’s easy when he kisses you and everything just feels right.
It’s easy. He loves you – you love him. It isn’t hard. You’re making this hard, when it never was.
“I love you,” you admit quietly, voice shaking as the words leave you easily.
Loving Eddie is easy.
“I love you,” you say more surely, voice raising in volume as you find the willpower to look into his eyes, “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.”
Each time you say it, you gain confidence in it. It’s true – you love him. You love him so much, it encompasses every inch of your being. It entirely consumes you. You love him.
His face falls slowly, mouth agape and eyes boring into yours.
You don’t wait for his response. You already have it – in the way he’s still holding your hand, in the way he holds you at the end of each night, in the way he knows both your orders at bars and coffee shops. In the way he will always put himself between you and the street when walking down the sidewalk, in the way when he roughly stops his bike at stop lights that his hand always flies back to hold onto you. In every soft touch and every expression of devotion he has offered you for not just two months, but for over a year.
“You love me?” he softly asks, finally beginning to come back to life.
You nod without hesitation, “I love you, Eddie.”
Now that you’ve started saying it, you can’t stop it. And each time, it’s still heavy and sweet like honey, even as the confession comes as easy as breathing. It’s pouring from every crevice, filling up the night air around you.
He takes you off guard with a harsh kiss. His teeth colliding with yours, his breath stealing yours, his entire being molded with yours.
“Say it again,” he begs in a murmur as he pulls you in even closer, desperate as you break into a smile, “God, please say it again, sweetheart.”
“I love you,” your cheeks begin to ache, the kiss no longer even to be a considered a kiss as you two are just mindlessly pressing your smiles together, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” with each repeat of the sentiment, Eddie drinks it in, “I’m so fucking in love with you, Eddie Munson. You and your stupid lockscreen and-”
“You do not think my lockscreen is stupid,” he pulls away, raising his eyebrows as his palms squish your cheeks, “I saw the way you looked at me. You were eating that shit up.”
You bite your lip, trying to pull further away from him, but he won’t let you, “I was not-”
“You were,” he cheekily teases, eyes bright as he looks at you, “You were, and it was the best thing ever. Totally worth stealing Argyle’s spotlight.”
“We didn’t steal Argyle’s spotlight,” you try to defend yourself.
“We so did.”
You shake your head to the best of your abilities, face still between his hands, “We… Okay, we sort of did.”
He grins like a young boy, all his youth and all his love on show for you as he leans down, pausing right before pressing another kiss to your lips, “We definitely did. And it’s fair, because they fucking bet on us.”
“They did,” you agree, not even feeling guilty anymore, too consumed by the love for the man right in front of you, “They tend to do that a lot, don’t they?”
“They do.”
He finally surges forward, lips sealing against yours one last time. It’s less messy this time, more meaningful. A bit more patient as he takes the time to fit his lips into yours, just as they should be.
You have an audience. You’re completely oblivious until you hear the cheering from across the parking lot, snapping apart to both glance at where Argyle and Robin are jumping up and down, screaming their heads off.
“Hell yeah, my dudes!” Argyle’s voice booms as Robin only produces incoherent coos to echo.
Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan are all just watching silently, shaking their heads, but you can also see their grins. Almost as radiant as you felt.
Steve finally cups his hands around his mouth, sending his voice to you over Argyle’s continuing whooping, “Get a room!”
Perfectly in sync, you and Eddie both throw up a hand with your middle fingers raised in their direction, still half tangled in each other.
Your eyes find Nancy. She’s looking at you two with overwhelming pride, a certain satisfaction that breathes out the relief of finally. This may be a weight off not only your chest but Eddie’s as well, yet you can’t help but imagine just how she feels. How many nights she had stomached Eddie’s rambles about you leading up to this very moment. The pay off must be unimaginable.
Finally.
“Congrats on finally getting the girl, Munson!” she calls out, but her eyes are on you, winking.
You see it now. Why they’re best friends. How all her best parts and Eddie’s best parts overlap and compliment one another perfectly.
Jonathan is the final one to yell across the parking lot at you two, one arm slung around Nancy as the other moves to unlock his car, even his usually grumpy face showing signs of elation in that timid smile, “Now take your girl, home, dude. Spare the rest of us the gory details.”
Eddie’s laugh reverberates against you physically from how he holds you, also making its way to burrow deep within your chest where all that liquid bliss belongs, as he throws his entire head back and makes you finally focus on just him again. Home. Not just his apartment, but him. You realize now that it’s simply wherever he goes. Where he leads, you’ll follow. It could be a shitty dorm room with a mattress that leaves your back aching, it could be a comforting apartment that holds you ‘hostage’ for twenty four hours straight – it doesn’t really matter. Wherever he is, home is. He’s your home; you love him, he knows you love him, and he’s your home.
When his laughter finally fades, and he’s looking at you again, his dimples are prominent as ever through his whisper, “Just in case you’ve forgotten – I’m very much in love with you, too, sweetheart.”
His lips meet yours for good measure.
It’s been the longest week of your life, the longest year, but you’re finally home.
