pairing: eddie munson x fem reader (best friends to lovers bc i love this trope it gets me everytime)
description: after a fight erupted in your family home, you go to the one safe place you have in town.
warnings: smut (18+) fingering, piv unprotected sex but eddie pulls out, (dont do this) praise kink for sure bud, light choking, some nipple play, lotssss of teasing, rough but soft dom eddie, best friends to lovers, bit of clueless eddie, mentions of drinking, family trauma (both eddie & reader) bit of hurt/comfort but really the reader is sad and also h*rny for her hot bestie
word count: 7.8k (i write long ones apparently)
a/n: hi i haven’t written in years but this boy has corrupted my thoughts and now we have this. hopefully im not as rusty as i think i am, writing smut is hard but im trying lol
Description: you share with Eddie, your older neighbour, the rumours you've heard about him. They might not be all fictitious...
Warnings: smutty smutty smut smut, lotta angst, tiny fluff. NSFW, Minors DNI I will whack you with a dinner plate, Eddie is mid 30s, tattoo artist, dom, reader uses sher/her pronouns, sub, fem! Oral receiving, praise kink, potential for Sir kink, a tiny bit of penis handling, p in v unprotected sex (wrap it folks) genital and tongue piercings.
A/N: well, this thought gripped to the inside of my thighs and refused to let go. I had to share it with you before I started humping my furniture. Have fun. Again I'm English so I try with the Americanisms, anything I got wrong soz babe. BTW ST 4pt2 never happened soz babycakes ❤ Reblogs are what keep me alive FR. They keep Tumblr alive (and my own heart beating)! If you want more smut reblog my stuff. I'll love you forever, promise.❤
Masterlist
5.2k words
Walking back to your ground floor apartment after your shift, your feet aching, you spot your neighbour sitting on a lawn chair in the courtyard smoking a cigarette. Your incredibly hot, older neighbour. Mr Munson.
The neighbour that sends shivers up your spine at the mere mention of him. The neighbour that you think about at night when you're in bed, all alone.
No doubt about it, he looked both hot and intimidating. Not that you would care to admit but that was entirely your type. Mid thirties, broad shouldered, and appeared to be as confident as a wolf, and about as self assured. He reminded you of one; gruff looking, proud, stalking around, making you feel like prey.
He looked particularly jaw dropping tonight in a black button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up; part of his muscular arms were on display, covered in countless tattoos. You've heard that he works in one of the tattoo shops down town. In fact you've heard a lot about him, but that was one rumour that you actually believed.
Elbows resting on his knees, his messy hair fell in waves just brushing his shoulders, full lips taking a drag on a rolled cigarette. Peeking out of his shirt collar, between the waves of hair, you can see a skull like tattoo on the side of his neck.
Is that new? Oh God, he's so hot. Okay just walk past, act normal.
You saunter past him with as much confidence as you could muster.
"Hey Mr Munson." You nod in his direction, trying to stop your voice quaking, fumbling for your keys.
"Hey sweet thing. You good?"
Jesus, does he really need to call me that?
The nickname travels to the pit of your stomach making you squirm hotly.
"Yeah sir, just a long shift at the bar. Idiots tonight, you know?"
Mr Munson shifts in his chair taking a sudden breath in.
"Shit sweetheart, sorry to hear that. Wanna talk about it?"
Well, it couldn't hurt, right?
You flop down in the chair bedside him, gesturing for a drag on his cigarette.
"Can I?"
He smiles wickedly and puts his roll up to your mouth. The roughness of his fingertips brushes on your lips making you clench, almost rucking your hips up, albeit briefly. You hope he doesn't notice. Of course he does.
Taking half a hit you realise that it's not a fucking cigarette, it's a blunt. It's not like you'd never tried anything like that but it was certainly not what you were expecting. The heavy, sweet, herb feeling lays on your tongue. Eyes wide you breathe out, coughing slightly much to his amusement.
He holds it out at you so you can take a proper hit. Sucking at the blunt so you can take it all in, your lips brush against his calloused hands, adorned with rings.
Breathing out, you gaze at him. His smile splits his face wide open, thick tongue rolling to a point, licking across his upper lip in a teasing manner. You cannot help but focus on the tongue stud pierced right through the middle of the muscle, a long stainless steel bar penetrating his whole tongue. You had certainly never noticed it before. It's presence made you wet, sticking between your thighs at the sheer thought of what he could do with it.
"Something on your mind pretty girl?" A cocky side grin plastered across his handsome features.
Shit, I was totally staring.
Blushing, you look away and try to change the subject.
"You know, you should really warn a girl before she takes a hit of a blunt."
He laughs deep in his throat. "I thought you knew! So, why was today so terrible?"
"Just customers thinking that I'm nice to them because I want them, not because it's literally my fuckin' job. Couple dudes tried to hit on me, one of them grabbed my ass." You sigh into the night air.
"Shit, I hope you taught him a lesson."
"Of course, hit him on the head with my tray."
He laughs out loud at that, throwing his head back. You gawp at his neck, sexy stubble running down past his Adam's apple. Turning his head towards you, he flashes his teeth.
"Didn't know you had it in you. Good girl."
Holy shit.
Your whole lower body clenches at his words of praise as you take in a shaky breath. The apples of your cheeks are on fire. Mr Munson gives you a knowing look, eyes glittering darkly.
You stand up on slightly unsure legs.
"Okay I'm- I'm gonna have a shower. See you around Mr Munson."
You fumble for your keys. Turning to your door you hear a gravelly voice behind you.
"Eddie. Call me Eddie."
********************
A few nights later and your surrounded by the rough brick interior of the bar, busy wiping down sticky tables. There's only half an hour until closing; half an hour and you can go home and rest. It's pretty empty tonight, just three regulars dotted around in the semi dark, nursing their drinks.
You haven't been able to get your latest encounter with Mr Munson, sorry, Eddie, off your mind. You liked to think you were a strong independent woman. You were 22 after all; having had to live on your own since you were 18, life hadn't exactly been kind. You had to be strong to survive. So why exactly was it that a few moments with Eddie had turned you into a blushing, giggling school girl? He had disarmed you with a few words and a rough grin and now you couldn't stop thinking of him. All he had done was call you a good girl and you turned into one. A simpering mess.
Doing a final sweep for glasses, you make your way back behind the bar just as the door opens and a brisk breeze blows in.
Oh fuck its him.
You see his broad frame silhouetted in the doorway for a moment, leather jacket hanging open. His wild mane is in a low messy bun for once, tendrils of loose hair moving in the wind. He stalks over to you and you feel your breath hitch in your throat. Dark eyes finding yours, he leans against the bar on one elbow, towering over you.
Plastering your customer service mask across your face; social armour to hide the nerves, you smile at him.
"Well good evening sir, what can I get ya?"
He grins at you devilishly, biting his lip, like he wants to devour you whole.
"What did I tell you? Call me Eddie."
"Sorry Eddie."
"Good girl. I'll have a bourbon, please."
Only just realising your mouth is hanging open, you slam it shut, cheeks burning. He looks at you smugly, like he's just proven a theory. Your body goes on autopilot, grabbing a glass, adding ice, measuring bourbon.
When you hand his drink over he slides over a twenty dollar bill.
"Keep the change."
You blink at him. "I couldn't, it's too much-"
"Then have a drink on me. I just finished a piece and got paid today. I'm celebrating."
You wouldn't usually, but you're on your own and it's nearly closing. Fuck it.
You pour yourself a bourbon, adding a dash of soda water to yours and take a sip. Eddie beams at you.
"Well thank you." You smile back at him, losing yourself in those dark brown eyes of his, watching the way the skin crinkles at the corners when he grins.
He sticks the ball of his tongue piercing out, rolling it between his lips as he stares at you. It seems like a subconscious movement, you're not sure he's aware that he's doing it.
"Why do you have that?" You blurt out, word vomit pouring off your tongue.
"Have what, pretty girl?" You're staring at his mouth, and he understands, sticking his tongue out at you.
"Thith?" He lisps at you, still poking his tongue out. Giggling, you nod.
His hand drops to the bar, thumb reaching out, stroking back and forth over the knuckles on the back of your hand. An involuntary shiver creeps down your spine at the touch of his rough skin.
"Oh, sweet thing. I think you know exactly what it's for."
His eyes are deep pools, inviting you in. Your thighs clench at his words, biting your lip.
"Oh."
He smirks at you, humming. You pull your hand away, looking at the time.
"Er, just a sec."
You move away slightly and shout out last call. Two of the patrons leave; the other walks over to the bar, slight stagger to his step. Serving him a final Scotch, he pounds it back and walks outside.
It's just you and Eddie. All alone.
"I've got to, um, finish closing up."
"I'll give you a ride if you'll have another drink with me."
You open your mouth. Then close it.
He pouts at you, looking at you with big doe eyes. "Please?"
Well fuck.
"Okay, just let me finish up."
You collect the rest of the glasses, wipe down the last of the sides and sort the nights takings, getting it all in the small safe in the back room.
After locking the front door you return, hang your bar apron up and pour the drinks. Eddie gestures for you to join him on the bar stool next to his. You perch on it lightly; he reaches for his wallet but you wave it away.
"No, I've already done the takings, this ones on me. For the ride, you know."
He shrugs, returning the wallet to his back pocket.
"So" you say, taking a sip of your drink, "you said you finished a piece. You're a tattoo artist, right?"
"Yep, that's right."
"Thought so, I heard a rumour."
"Rumour, eh? What else you heard?" Eyes glittering, he took a mouthful of bourbon.
You giggle "Hmm, well, I heard you were some Satanic cult leader in high school-"
He waved that off, "oh that's so old. If playing D&D is satanic then I'm the devil himself." He sticks his tongue out again, creating little horns with his fingers on his forehead.
You laugh at that, starting to finally feel at ease in his company. The bourbon helped.
"Someone said you sacrificed a goat in the woods once."
He nearly spits his drink at that one. "Now that's more like it, even I've not heard that one. Got any more?"
You blush, realising you've only heard one more.
"I heard you had... other piercings." You mumble, not wanting to say it too loud despite the lack of company.
"What other piercings?" He eyes never leave yours as he finishes his drink.
You're sure it's not normal to have so much blood in your cheeks. You can hear the blood swooshing in your ears. Finishing your own drink for courage, you gaze down at your hands in your lap.
"I heard you have a pierced..."
"Dick?" He ducks his head, trying to catch your eye again, cheeky smile on his face.
"Yeah." Your whole body feels hot and small under his gaze.
He just smirks at you and shrugs.
Is that a no? A yes? Now I'm dying to know!
He winks at your obvious frustration and says "come on I'll take you home."
********************
The ride home in Eddie's Mustang is uneventful. A little small talk is shared, but mostly you're staring out the window, trying to catch glimpses of him when he wasn't looking, eyes wandering to his crotch.
Pretty soon he was dropping you off at your front door, hand leaning on the door frame, crowding into your personal space. Just breathing the same air as him felt suffocating in the best way.
"Well, goodnight then sweet thing." He winks at you, glancing at your lips. For a split second you think he's going to kiss you, but he breaks away and turns to leave.
"Do you wanna come in?" Shit did I just say that out loud?
"You sure?"
You nod and he throws you a wolfish grin. You've never felt so much like a lamb in your entire life. You may as well baa at this point.
You lead him into your tiny apartment, gesturing for him to take a seat on the couch, turning on a couple of dim lamps as you go. He flops down, manspreading, large hand resting on his knee.
"You want another drink? I've got bourbon but no ice I'm afraid."
"Sure thing sweets." He responds whilst slipping his jacket off, placing it on a nearby chair.
"You mind if I smoke? Just a cigarette, promise."
You smile at the reference, "sure, there's an ashtray just there."
He pulls out a pre rolled smoke, lighting it and taking a few drags.
When you've poured the drinks you make your way to the other side of the couch, placing the glasses on the coffee table. He offers his cigarette to you. As you nod, he shifts closer, holding it to your lips. You take a couple of drags, relishing the feel of his fingers on your mouth. Every time your skin touches his it sends a flutter through your nerves.
You watch him take a sip of his drink, seeing him press that perfect bottom lip to the glass. He drinks and puts the glass down. Not even looking your way, he says "something you wanna share, pretty girl?"
"Do you? Is it?" You say doltishly. Well done, real eloquent.
"You really wanna know, huh?"
"Yes!" You say loudly, bourbon well and truly in the drivers seat for that one.
He laughs and looks at you dead in the eye, another chance to make you squirm.
"Yes."
Gaping at him for a few seconds, your brain and mouth finally connect.
"Do you- did it hurt? What's it look like? What kinda-"
Stopping you mid babble with a wave of his hand, he simply asks, "you wanna see it?"
Brain short circuiting, you merely stare at him dumbfounded. You nod, curiosity well and truly getting the best of you.
He stands up and undoes his belt, sound echoing through the apartment. Your gaze is fixated on his large hands as they deftly unbutton his jeans. A glimpse of a tattoo teases you on his lower abdomen. His happy trail is peeking out, leading to the large thatch of hair that snakes down to his manhood. You swallow hard.
He slowly pulls his boxers down and you scoot closer to have a look. It emerges from the fabric, to your surprise half hard.
You gape at it. You've seen dicks before. A handful. And they are just that, a handful. This is more than a handful. You think you'd struggle to get your hand around his. The girth of it was truly intimidating. It certainly looked long too, and that was at half mast.
The end of it was pink and rounded, and the piercing went through the slit at the top, down to the underside of the tip. The piercing was thicker than you imagined, a curved bar with thick steel balls on either end. You never thought you would be into this sort of thing, but just looking at it made you think about what it felt like. What it tasted like. You wet your lips and continue to stare.
On instinct, your hand reaches out. You only notice when it meets the roughness of his jeans, touching ever so closely to his exposed member.
You look up at Eddie's face. He's looking right back at you sinfully.
"Did it hurt?"
"Not as much as you'd think. Ached like a bitch the first time I got a boner though."
You giggle, staring at it again.
"Can I touch it?" What the hell. It just slipped out, unbidden. You see his dick twitch at the thought.
Eddie chuckles darkly. "Did you seriously just ask if you-"
"Sorry that was dumb of me-"
"Sure you can sweet thing."
Before your mind can even comprehend what's happening, your hand shoots forward with sudden bravery, reaching out to hold it. You inspect the tip, looking at the piercing, feeling his hardness grow under your delicate touch. Inquisitively you rub the jewellery with your thumb, inadvertently smoothing the pad of your thumb over his tip in the process. Eddie hisses through his teeth.
"I'm sorry, did that hurt?"
"No," Eddie manages through gritted teeth, "just felt really fuckin' good."
Oh.
You back off, moving your hands from his piercing and placing them in your lap. He tucks himself away again, doing up his jeans, subconsciously palming his length.
"Well? What do you think?" He sits on the couch next to you, denim clad knee touching yours.
"It's really big Eddie."
He laughs, throwing his arm over the back of the sofa.
"You talkin' about the piercing or my dick?"
"Both." You couldn't help it. It had to be said. It was true. You knock your drink back, feeling entirely too sober for this conversation.
Eddie's mouth splits into a lazy smug smile. Finishing his own drink, he turns to you, eyes roaming over your body.
"So, do I get a turn now sweet thing?"
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "At what?"
Well, you got to touch me. Can I touch you?"
Your eyes widen at his brazen attitude, but you'd be lying if you said this wasn't the reason you had invited him in in the first place. The very air around you feels heavy, hot with anticipation.
"Ok."
You stand up shakily, mirroring his movements from earlier, unsure hands unbuttoning your jeans. Eddie's eyes travel down to your core, predatory gaze shamelessly wandering over you. Your jeans are a little big, slipping straight to your ankles when they're undone. You kick them off and away. Standing there in your tank top and tiny white panties you've never felt so exposed in your life.
Eddie stands up for a second looking down at you, eyes shining with mischief. He winks, and drops to his knees between the couch and the coffee table, grabbing your hips and pulling you to face him.
Sizeable hands hovering over the hem of your underwear, he looks up at you. "Can I? Can I take these off?"
You nod, cheeks flaring with heat.
Eddie licks his lips, eyes never leaving your cunt. "I'm gonna need you to say it, sweet thing."
"Y-yes Eddie." You manage to stumble out.
"Atta girl."
He peels them off. They stick for a moment between your thighs, slick and heat pouring from your core. The tops of your thighs are already damp with expectancy. Your muscles clench, pressing together with angst. Eddie pries your thighs apart slightly, thumbs massaging calming circles into the flesh.
Eddie presses a kiss to your mound, stubble scratching the delicate skin ever so slightly.
"Eddie what are you doing?"
"You said I can touch you."
"Yeah, so why-"
Eddie's tongue pushes between your folds firmly, tongue bar flicking right over your clit.
The noise you make is nearly inhuman, breath knocked out of your lungs in shock. Your legs buckle at the knees, ass falling to the carpet. He takes the opportunity to wedge his head between your legs, your thighs pushed as wide as far as the narrow space allowed, stuck between the sofa and the table.
His stubble is burning the insides of your thighs, roughly rubbing against your soft skin. Eddie licks into you, pushing his tongue inside your hole. You feel the warm wetness of his thick tongue and the foreign bump of hard steel forcing shockwaves of pleasure into you. The moan he rips from you reverberates in your chest, full of want.
Eddie groans into you, tongue making it's way to your clit, running in dizzying circles. The feeling is almost too much as you buck up into him, writhing your back on the carpet.
"Oh my God, Eddie!"
You can practically feel him smirking against your dripping pussy, getting his large hands underneath your ass so he can push his face into you even further. His tongue is everywhere, eating you out messily, hungry for you. The occasional rub of steel sends your senses into overload, hips rutting shamelessly into his face.
He moves one hand from underneath you and pushes two fingers deep onto your cunt. You're on the verge of screaming, tears gathering in your eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure. The pressure of your desire collects in the pit of your stomach.
His fingers make you feel so full, reaching somewhere you've never been able to touch on your own. The rough sure movements of his hand so close to sending you over the edge, pussy grateful to have something to clench around.
"Eddie! Holy fuck." You cry out, an unsolicited tear spilling from your eye.
Eddie's mouth unlatches from your heat briefly.
"You gonna come, pretty girl? Come on, soak my face, that's my girl." And he's diving straight back in, tongue movements unmatched, strong fingers fucking into you. Desperate, filthy noises pour from your throat at the sudden onslaught.
Tensing up, you feel the unimaginable tight hot ball of desire suddenly drop. The feeling ignites through you like wildfire, coalescing into a burning, broken scream of his name.
Once you've chased your release as far as it could possibly take you, your back finally touches the floor again. Eddie moves away from you, sitting up, gazing at your fucked out form. Panting, flushing, sweating, you manage to look at him.
Eddie looks wild, feral, hair a mess, face covered and dripping with your slick. You can even see a wet shiny patch on his forehead. You giggle, dopey in your post orgasm haze.
"What? Have I got something on my face?" Eddie stares at you unblinking. You laugh loudly at that, pointing to where it was on his forehead. He laughs back and pulls his t shirt off, wiping his sticky face all over it before tossing it onto the sofa.
Your eyes go wide at the sight of him shirtless. Taunt, muscular frame, dark patch of hair covering his chest, matching the rough hair of his happy trail. He is littered with tattoos, some dark and bold, others lighter and faded. There's small patches of alabaster skin here and there. He's glistening, clearly having worked up a slight sweat just from the force of which he'd eaten you out. Muscles shining, catching the dim light.
He catches your lust filled stare and leans over you, caging your head with his strong arms.
"So, you wanna know why I've got the other piercing?" Sinful smirk turning his mouth up at the corners.
You crash your lips into his, throwing your arms around his neck. Desperate hands snake into his hair as you open your mouth to deepen the kiss. Eddie's kisses are messy but skilful, one hand moulding to the back of your head, pushing you towards him almost painfully. The need for each other is tangible, bodies colliding, rolling into one another. He sits up, pulling you along with him by the waist, tongue continuously dipping into your mouth. Finally, you break from the kiss just to breathe. It's like all the air has been sucked from the room and all you can breathe is Eddie.
He's kissing along your jaw line, down your neck; yearning, robust kisses. Heaving breaths are coming from each of you.
"Bedroom?' Eddie manages between heavy panting and pecks.
Finally, he carries you through your bedroom door, dropping you onto the bed. Unbuckling his belt and exposing himself to you for the second time today, this time he's taking his clothes off completely, standing in front of you naked in all his glory. Further tattoos cover his hairy legs, you see his thick thighs flexing. He gives you a ravening look; predacious in its delivery, with a smile that belies the lust in his eyes.
You gesture to the hall and he wastes no time in standing up, pulling you along with him, eliciting a surprised squeal from you. You wrap your legs around his waist, firm hands holding you steady, as he attempts to navigate your hallway whilst still kissing you.
Nearly tripping on your discarded jeans, he slams your back into the wall. You couldn't care less, tongue invading his mouth, pressing your naked heat against his solid bulge. His groans are so low they're almost growls, bearish and dominant. He takes the opportunity to press your form against the wall so he can pull your tank top over your head, eyes rolling back at your braless chest.
Quivering before him, he roughly widens your legs and slots his hips in between. You feel the hard shaft of his dick pressing against your slick folds, whimpering at the contact.
Hovering over you, one of his hands engulfs the side of your face, stroking down to your chin, holding you there. You stare at him open mouthed, consumed by the feeling of him rubbing up and down your wet pussy.
"You sure you want this, sweet thing?"
"Yes, Eddie please." Your voice doesn't sound like you, its smaller, meek. Your eyes plead with him.
Leaning in to you further, his hot breath whispers, deep voice on the shell of your ear. "Are you sure you can take it? Can you be a good girl for me?"
You moan loudly at him, small hands clasping at his biceps in desperation.
"Yes, please Eddie, I'll be so good for you!" You writhe underneath him.
He chuckles, biting his lip. "I knew you were into that. You got a condom?"
"No I'm on the pill, I need you, please."
"Holy shit." Eddie wastes no more time, rubbing his cock up against your entrance, strange feeling of the piercing hard against your slippery cunt.
He starts to push into you and your mouth falls open, no sound coming out. You grip his shoulders hard, trying so hard to take him. The stretch is intense. He's looking at you with concern, softer than he's ever looked at you.
"You gotta relax, my good girl, or its gonna hurt."
You nod, pupils blown, trying so hard not to clench around him. He bottoms out, the final push making you whimper.
Stroking your face, he gives you a moment to adjust.
"So fuckin' beautiful like this."
Your cheeks burn at the praise, lips enveloping his in a soft kiss.
He moves, pulling out almost all the way before pushing back in. Your eyes roll back at the feeling, a loud whine escaping from your lips. The burning feeling has been replaced with pure ecstasy. You're sure you can feel the steel of the piercing hitting that spot inside you.
Thrusting into you slowly a couple of times, you already feel pressure in your stomach, knots tied tight and begging to be released. The sensation tightens further, shoots of it flying down your legs and up your spine. You clench around him hard, moaning.
"Fuck Eddie I'm gonna cum, fuck." You pant out, eyes wide.
"Already? Shit you're gonna give me an ego."
"You already- oh God, fuck- you already have one."
He laughs loud and thrusts into you harder. Instantly you release, the ropes holding your stomach snapping. You come with a high pitched squeal of his name. You hear your wetness before you can feel it, a squelching noise resonating with each drive into your sopping cunt.
"Oh fuck, sweet thing, you squirted. Soaked me. You're- perfect" he groans. You keen at the praise.
Getting on his knees he pulls you bodily into him, slamming into you harder, hands digging at the flesh of your hips. You've never felt so full in your life, his cock piercing nudging your g spot with each thrust.
Eddie's grunting with effort, hair completely loose now, wild around his shoulders. Your fingernails bite into his flexing muscles leaving crescent moons in their wake.
"Shit, sweet thing, oh fuck."
Eddie pushes himself forcefully back on top of you, folding you in half, knees pressed against your stomach.
"Oh Eddie!" It's just so overwhelming. You're full to the brim with him, satisfaction coating your insides, eyelids coated with emotion. Tears spring out the corners of your eyes, running down your temples. You're trembling, inundated with emotion and sensation.
"Hey, hey, you ok?" He slows.
"Yes fuck please Eddie don't fucking stop!"
Grinning wickedly he thrusts into you without restraint, slamming his hip bones into the flesh of your thighs, cock breaching you like nothing ever before.
Clamping down around him, your third orgasm is an ocean; wave after wave of sinful pleasure washing over the very fabric of your being, stripping you back to your bare components and leaving you breathless, sweating, and as exposed as a raw nerve. You babble, and cry, and whine his name, eyes tight shut, utterly taken by the moment.
Eddie's plunges into you start to falter. Feeling him twitching, becoming impossibly harder inside you he comes, spilling his seed deep into your cunt. The warm, rushing feeling just expands the length of your own release, waves finally ebbing and retreating.
Eddie pulls out from you, leaving you feeling emptier than ever before. He lies on his side next to you, thumb approaching to rub a stray tear from your cheek. You're both perspiring; glowing forms gasping for air.
Finally catching some semblance of breath, he strokes your cheek again, wide grin dissipating on his face.
"You ok pretty girl?"
"Yeah you could say that." You huffed a laugh, still trying to focus on how he'd made you feel.
"But you cried?" Its a question, but he looks concerned, hands attempting to comfort you.
"It was just, so much. Too good, you know." Taking in his smirk you say "don't you let that go to your head!"
"Bit fuckin' late for that" he laughs. "C'mere."
He gathers you up in his strong arms, holding you close, and kisses you on the forehead. The affection honestly takes you by surprise, expecting him to have bolted by this point, having got what he wanted.
"Can I level with you?"
Oh shit here we go.
"I've wanted to do that since you moved in." He grins at you.
"Oh, really?" You look up at him, surprised that he'd been feeling the same as you. "Well, same. You're really hot."
He laughs and strokes your back.
"You working tomorrow?"
"No, why? Are you?"
"No. I wanna take you out somewhere, if you want." He almost looks embarrassed. Almost.
"Are you asking me out on a date Mr Munson?" You smirk at him in disbelief.
"I mean, yeah, if you wanna. Unless you just wanted this to be a one time thing, I get it, I can just leave." There's a quaver to his voice. A weakness your not used to hearing.
You stare up at him. Cocky, confident Eddie Munson, was about as unsure as you were. You giggle.
"I'd love to go on a date with you." Smiling, you attempt to hide it into his inked chest.
"So, wanna take a shower?"
"Well" you say, leaning up on your elbow, "we could. Or..."
"Or what, sweet thing?" He rubs your arm, furrowing his brow.
"Or, we could do that again."
Tag list (please reblog this fic if you want to stay in the tags ILY ❤)
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | halloween is that special night where you can be anything you want to be... maybe more than the labels everyone else gives you. maybe even more than 'just friends'. (aka, reader has a reputation, eddie's still a virgin, filth ensues)
𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 5.6k
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only, of course), virginity loss, best friends to lovers, slight angst (mostly just hurt/comfort), unprotected sex, creampie, degradation kink (but like, in a loving way?), rough filthy fucknasty sex for no reason at all except that I'm a whore, L-bomb, reader is a candy corn hater (this was hard for me guys ngl), all men being trash except eddie (so, you know, real life)
“God, I can’t stand these,” you grimaced as you shoved the baggies of candy corn towards him.
“More for meee!” Eddie sang happily as he scooped them all up, cackling to himself as he filled his arms. He looked especially in character as a pirate in that moment, treating the candy like his treasure. His costume had actually come together better than you expected: the tight leather pants and boots looked less rocker and more sailor when paired with the flowy white shirt and black eyepatch.
"Will you trade your Sour Patch Kids for my candy cigarettes?" you asked him, getting an incredulous scoff in return.
"No way," he shook his head, "I don't need candy ones, got a couple packs of the real kind in my room."
You frowned. "Guess the candy economy changed since we were kids, huh?"
He looked up at you, a tender look in his eyes as he smiled. "Yeah…" he trailed off.
"I'm surprised anybody gave a couple of giant seniors candy for trick-or-treating," you smirked. "I guess that's the benefit of 'chaperoning' your Hellfire friends."
"Exactly," he beamed. "And hey, maybe we're a little old for it, but you make for a lovely princess."
You batted your eyelashes playfully, tilting your head with the tiara pinned on top. "Who, me? I'm just dressed as a good excuse to repurpose an old homecoming gown."
He laughed, but then seemed to get a bit more serious then (but still happy). "I'm glad we could do this," he decided. "Like old times."
"We always spend Halloween together," you reminded him.
"Yeah— I mean this." He motioned to the dumped-out pails of candy on the trailer floor, and you nodded. "And not just 'cause of the sugar rush."
You smiled softly at him, tilting your head. "Of course, Eddie."
"Kinda thought you were gonna ditch me this year," he added suddenly, looking down into his lap at the candy he was unwrapping. "You know… 'cause of that guy."
"Oh, yeah," you sighed, "well… that's over."
Eddie looked up again, his eyes seeming bigger than ever. "Really?"
"Don't sound so excited," you rolled your eyes, but the sarcasm wasn't enough to hide your heartbreak.
"No— hey, I'm sorry," he offered, scooting closer to you on the floor. "I know you liked him a lot. But I know you know I thought he was a total loser."
You shot him a look with a raised brow. He shrugged.
"Takes one to know one."
"You're not a loser, Eddie," you sighed sympathetically. "And you were right about him— obviously. I knew you were, I just… I dunno, I guess I thought I could change him?"
Eddie smirked. "When has that ever worked?"
"For me? Never," you scoffed. "I think guys do change, for the right girl. And it's just never me."
"That's not fair," he frowned, "it's not your fault that these guys are garbage. Well— I mean, it's sorta your fault that you keep hooking up with guys that are garbage—"
You slapped him on the arm lightly, and he laughed.
"Am I wrong?" he wondered.
You slumped your shoulders a bit. "No… but still. Don't be so mean, I'm moping over here."
"Aw, sweetheart," he pouted, sliding closer again and wrapping his arms around you. You sighed as you rested your head on his shoulder, shutting your eyes. Honestly, you were trying not to cry. Over a guy. You told yourself you weren't going to do that anymore. Actually, you told Eddie that you wouldn't do that anymore, after you cried over Tommy Pearson. And sure, you cried over James Neher since then, but he didn't call you out for it… that showed how messed up you really were over it, that he didn't poke fun at you for it. Almost nothing was too far with you two, you made fun of him for being a trailer park flunk-out just as much as he poked fun at your… storied dating history.
The one thing you didn't make fun of Eddie for (that much, at least) was his lack of dating history. As of yet, Eddie was actually still a virgin.
Uh, mostly a virgin… he got a blowjob once after a Corroded Coffin show, and called you first thing after to tell you giddily about how it went. He was heartbroken, too, when she never called, but he didn't cry— he just started dodging your questions about it until finally fessing up that she totally disappeared. So you put on one of his favorite movies (The Evil Dead) and wrapped him up in a blanket, and he was over it in a night.
That was a couple months ago, though, and Eddie had had no luck since with losing the remaining half of his virginity. You hadn't had any trouble finding guys, just in finding those special (potentially imaginary) ones that don't disappear after you put out.
The conversation drifted back to candy and the next Hellfire campaign before it looped back around to relationships again. It started because of a debate about if gum counted as candy, actually.
"Maybe, like, Juicy Fruit counts," Eddie decided. "But definitely not just any old spearmint stick."
"I thought you liked spearmint gum!"
"Yeah, but it's not candy! I like a lot of things that aren't candy!"
You huffed. "So you're not gonna give me anything for the sticks of Trident?"
"Best I can do is… one Tootsie Roll," he decided, tossing the pathetic little taffy at you as you scoffed.
"Don't insult me," you grimaced as you tossed it back, "I don't want your individually-wrapped waxy chocolate byproduct."
"I'll be honest, I didn't really understand that," he frowned, "but I can tell it was an insult to my beloved Tootsie Rolls."
"They taste like eating a chocolate scented candle!" you announced.
He gasped dramatically and held one of his larger Tootsie Rolls up to his chest, like he was protecting it from your words. "That's not true, baby," he whispered to the candy, petting it tenderly, "she didn't mean that…"
You laughed at the bizarre display. "God, you're such a freak," you reminded him.
"And you're a slut," he returned with a wide smile and a tilt of his head.
That was your thing, you'd always say that back to each other, like a nickname. You started it to try to take the power away from the names everyone else called you two, and it worked: it didn't hurt nearly as much getting called a slut when you could remember the way Eddie said it like a term of endearment. And he said it was the same for him, even though he pretended like he'd never been bothered by his label. He did have it worse though… he was the freak, you were just a slut.
"If you don't want the Roll then I guess I'm getting that gum for free," Eddie decided, about to reach for it, but you smacked his hand away.
"No way," you frowned.
"Are you gonna chew it?" he assumed.
"Never," you decided, "but I can find someone who wants it."
"Why won't you chew it yourself? Still turned off to all gum by that Fred guy?"
"It was Frank," you corrected, "and yeah, he never stopped chewing that stupid Extra. Even during…"
"Guess he needed a little Extra help in bed," Eddie snorted.
"The sex wasn't that bad, actually," you recalled, "it just… smelled a little too minty fresh."
"Does it normally smell like something else?" he asked.
Your face got a little warm. "Uh… yeah, kinda."
Eddie wrinkled his brow slightly. You thought that was the end of it, after a long pause, and you were just about to change the subject when he broke the silence. "What's it like?"
"The smell?!"
"No, no! The sex. What does it feel like?" he asked hesitantly, flipping up his eye patch to look at you properly.
"Well, I dunno— it's hard to describe."
"Everyone says that," he frowned.
"And it would feel different for you anyways," you added.
He nodded. "Right."
"One guy said that I felt like a warm bath, but like, only on his cock," you remembered, almost laughing at the memory. It was a weird thing to say, especially in the middle of sex.
Eddie choked. "O-oh…"
"What?" you tilted your head, confused by his reaction.
"I just— um, I was trying to figure out how it feels in general… I never even… I never thought about how you feel…"
Your face heated up a bit.
"Does every girl feel different?" he realized, leaning in a little closer to listen to your reply.
"That's what I've heard," you shrugged. "Every guy feels different."
"Different how? Like, bigger or smaller?"
"Not just that— sometimes you can feel, like, the head and stuff…" you explained, continuing when Eddie looked a little confused, "like, if the head is really big you can feel the edge of it. Or if he's uncut you can sorta feel that too, in the way he strokes. And then there's how curved it is…"
Eddie's stare was a little glassy. "You can feel all that? Just with your pussy?"
You nodded.
"That's…" he trailed off, clearing his throat. "Yeah. Cool."
The way he was clearly flustered by all this made your hips shift against the floor for a second. You and Eddie had obviously had pretty raunchy conversations before (see the aforementioned post-BJ phone call) and sure, sometimes they kinda turned you on… but this one felt a little different. Usually if you felt that feeling while talking to him about something it was because you were remembering something you'd done before; this was the first time you were actually imagining something. Something, specifically, happening with you and Eddie.
"You know…" you started before shaking your head and scoffing. "Nevermind. Too weird."
"What? Nothing's too weird with me," he grinned— one of his teeth was drawn out in black for the costume, and he looked pretty silly.
"I was just… I dunno," you shrugged. "If I tell you, you won't be, like, offended, right?"
"Well, I guess it depends on how offensive it is."
You sighed. "Just don't judge me, okay?"
"Never."
"I was thinking, if you wanted, you could… try it out. With me."
He froze. "Try… sex?"
He'd dropped his head lower between his shoulders as he said the last word. You nodded briefly. "Yeah."
You couldn't even begin to describe the look on his face. "Well, that's… not offensive."
Already you felt ridiculous, and you shook your head as you started to backtrack. "I'm sorry if that was a really weird idea, I'm not trying to—"
"No, no! It's okay," he assured, reaching out towards you for a second but not actually touching you. "I just… didn't think you would say that. Um. Yeah. So, we would just, like, do it?"
"If you want to."
"I mean, not that you're not— you're gorgeous," he promised, talking over himself, "you know I think so. But you're my best friend. Wait— no. You're gorgeous and you're my best friend. It won't make stuff weird with us, right?"
You raised an eyebrow. "Are you gonna make it weird?"
"No more than usual," he smirked.
"Then, no. It wouldn't be weird. It would just be, like, a friend helping a friend out," you decided, "like how I hadn't tried LSD 'til I met you. You can try this, with me."
"Yeah, but," he lowered his voice, scooching a little closer, "this is different. I gave you drugs but you… you're the drug. It's your body, and you're giving it to me."
You fought the urge to bite your lip. "Yeah," you agreed, "I don't mind. Just use me for a bit."
Eddie's throat bobbed as he swallowed, mouth falling open for a second. "Use you?" he repeated. "God, why is that hot?"
"'Cause guys are always into that— they wanna feel powerful or whatever," you explained with a snort of a laugh. "Wanna feel like they're conquering something."
"Heh," he laughed nervously as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck, "are we all so predictable?"
You smiled at him, leaning closer slightly and tilting your head down to look up at him through your lashes. "I dunno," you teased, "but I'm predicting you're gonna take me up on this."
"Fuck yeah I am," he decided, grabbing your face to pull you closer— but then suddenly stopping. "Fuck, wait, can I kiss you?"
You blinked quickly. "Um, yeah," you decided.
For all that bravado before, he hesitated before he did kiss you… and it was actually pretty sweet, and gentle, and way too short. Yes, it did feel sort of weird knowing you were kissing Eddie, your best friend since 4th grade, but not a bad kind of weird, necessarily.
He was smiling at you already when he pulled back. "You know you don't have to do all that, right?" you reminded him.
"I-I know. I'd feel weird about it if I didn't kiss you first, though," he explained. "And, you know. Kissing is nice. Friends can kiss."
"Yeah," you laughed.
"We can, uh, go to the bedroom," he offered. "Not that it wouldn't be fun to do it on the floor surrounded by our candy quarry— just, uh, not how I pictured my first time."
"Well, either way," you replied as you both stood up, following him across the trailer to the bedroom, "it's not who you pictured your first time with."
"Yeah, well, Joan Jett was busy tonight," he laughed, and you laughed with him, falling onto the bed together with a sigh. You'd done that a lot before— but sitting up on your side, facing him, starting to touch his chest delicately through his shirt… that was new.
"Do you want me to ride you, or—?" you started to offer.
"No! No," he sighed, "I wanna— like you said, use you, right? I want you to, uh, lay back, and I can go as fast or as slow as I want."
You smiled a little. "Okay," you agreed, "but— I should probably take this dress off first."
"Let me help," Eddie offered, even though you didn't actually need any help. You turned away from him and felt his hands delicately unzip the back of the gown; the ghost of his touch on your spine made you nearly shiver.
Once it was unzipped, you shimmied out of the garment and tossed it aside, leaving you in just your bra and panties (and the tiara, which you'd forgotten about.
You laid back on the bed for him to climb on top of you, which he did, his eyes running all over your body. "Listen, I know you're already doing me a really big favor," he cleared his throat, "but, uh, maybe… maybe you could show me your tits?"
You grinned and reached under your back to unclasp your bra, hearing him sigh a little at the sight of your bare chest.
"Can I—?"
"Sure," you answered instantly. Of course, you thought he was about to say touch them, so you gasped in shock when he actually latched his lips onto them, suckling at your nipples eagerly. "F-fuck, Ed…"
"Wow," he breathed when he pulled back, "they're really sensitive."
“Yeah,” you agreed, deciding not to mention that that wasn’t always the case. “I can’t help but notice that you’re still in your pirate get-up there, Munson.”
He smirked. “Unfair, isn’t it?”
Nodding, you watched him sit back on his feet so he could pull his shirt off over his head. You'd seen him shirtless plenty of times before, but the toned torso with a decent scattering of dark hair and even darker tattoos was always a welcome sight. He'd gotten even more muscular in the last couple years, something you'd sort of tried not to notice, but you couldn't fight the urge to run your hand over his chest and pecs when they were exposed.
“Is that better?” he grinned, but you laughed loudly right away when you saw one of his teeth was still blacked out for the costume. He wrinkled his eyebrows before he seemed to remember, looking a bit more shy for a moment. “R-right, sorry…”
He reached into his mouth and scrubbed the black marks off with the pad of his finger, licking the tooth for good measure before showing his teeth again.
“Back to normal?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you answered, “good as new.”
Your hand was still on his chest, lightly, and he got a little more serious as he took it and guided it down: over his slight abs and down to the thick bulge in his pants. You sighed a little at the feeling of it through the leather, he was so hard and warm even through the heavy material.
"Damn, you're big," you noticed.
"Really?" he grinned. "Fuck, okay."
"I should've known you would have a big cock," you laughed, rubbing him a little firmer through the pants, "you've got that way about you."
"Oh? I didn't— I didn't think it was that big," he mumbled.
You smiled and pulled your hand out of the way as he shimmied the pants down his thighs, exposing his erection that bounced back up to his belly button. (Yes, it reached that far, and you felt a little dizzy.)
"So," he broke the silence, "that's… that's my dick."
"Y-yeah," you nodded, sounding a little hoarse.
He let you stare at it blankly for a while before clearing his throat, tearing you out of your trance to look up at him; he smirked at you proudly, the smut bastard. "You're looking at me different now. You look… well, you're kinda drooling."
"Yeah… sorry…" you murmured absent-mindedly.
"No, don't be," he assured. "You know, the girl that gave me that blowjob, she could only take it to about here before she choked."
He held his finger up to halfway down his shaft, and your hips shifted. "I could get it deeper," you announced.
"Oh, you will," he promised, "but not with your mouth— I don't have any use for your mouth, babe. You promised me your pussy, that's what I want. And she's gonna take all of it."
"Are you talking dirty to me now?" you noticed.
"It might be dirty, but it's true," he smiled, falling down on top of you and holding himself up with bent elbows beside your head. "You can still back out, you know," he reminded you. "No judgment. We'll go back to normal."
"We were never normal, Eddie," you reminded him.
"Right," he grinned, "but still. Are you sure?"
"Yeah— if you are."
He kissed you again, right when you least expected it. "Yeah," he whispered when he pulled back slightly. "I'm sure. I, uh, think it's about time that I lost it, don't you?"
Nodding in agreement, you reached down and wiggled yourself out of your panties, totally naked under him. He sighed slowly and looked down for a moment— only to look back up with his lip between his teeth.
"Fuck. Okay. Are you ready?" he asked.
"Are you?" you returned— he looked pretty nervous, shaking a bit, breathing heavy.
"Yeah, fuck, I've been ready for this for years," he laughed breathlessly. "Just didn't think… yeah, fuck. Didn't think it would happen tonight."
"Well, if you keep stalling, maybe it won't," you smirked.
"Okay, okay— no more stalling. I'm gonna… I'm gonna fuck you now."
He sounded like he was convincing himself more than you— but a moment later, he plunged forward and filled you with his cock.
He shivered as he pressed his hips up to yours, moaning weakly. For a moment, you couldn't help but bite your lip at the feeling of him buried all the way inside you, but thankfully he didn't notice: his eyes were shut tight and his head tossed back.
You sat up, barely, just enough to put your lips by his ear. "You're not a virgin anymore, Eddie," you whispered to him.
He sighed, then laughed slightly. "I guess not."
"How's it feel to be inside a pussy?" you asked, genuinely curious for his reaction. "Compared to a blowjob."
"God, it's— it's so much better," he panted.
"Really? Some guys really seem to prefer getting blown even though it's not nearly as fun for—"
"No, fuck, this is better," he insisted quickly. "Your… your pussy feels so— and it's— fuck, so warm, warmer than a mouth. And… and really tight— god, it's so… squishy?"
You laughed. "That's not a very sexy way of describing it."
"W-well, sorry," he laughed too, breathlessly, "that's how it feels. You're— thank you for, uh, letting me do this."
"Yeah," you agreed with a smile, relaxing into the mattress under you and noticing the way he was staring down at your face.
"I can move, right?"
You nodded; he shuddered a little as he pulled his hips back and pushed forward again. He caught you watching his face, so you shut your eyes quickly and just focused on the feeling. It had actually been a while since you had a hook-up, and though you didn’t expect this to last very long, you could at least just enjoy it for now.
"Fuck," he breathed, "it's so… sticky. Fuck."
“Sticky?” you repeated.
“I-in a good way,” he added quickly. “God, I just… you’re really wet, s’all.”
Eyes still closed, you felt a smile trying to creep up on your face. You could tell he wanted to know why you were so wet, specifically he wanted you to say that he made you that way, but you decided his ego was already getting enough stroking for the night.
His breathing was heavy and slow, but the pace of his hips picked up. When you blinked your eyes open, he was staring down at where he was fucking into you; that made you feel a little exposed, but oddly powerful, too. "Wow," he groaned, "I— I love watching it. The way it, like… splits open, around my cock… fuck. That's really sexy."
His next thrust was a little harder, his hips colliding with the back of your thighs as you wrapped your legs around him.
"Mm," you moaned softly, adjusting yourself under him a bit. "That's nice— you feel good."
"Really? Fuck, I couldn't feel half as good as you do," he grunted, "'cause if I did you wouldn't be able to be so quiet."
"I'm just listening to you," you explained with a smirk.
"Can you feel the, uh, head? Like you said before?"
You nodded. "It's rubbing this one place inside me— it feels good."
"Oh, fuck," he purred, starting to move faster. "Tell me that again."
"It feels good, Eddie," you groaned, "you feel good."
"Fu-uck," he whined, shutting his eyes tight and tilting his head back. "How good?"
You knew he could be a little competitive, and you smirked slightly. "Better than the other guys," you answered, figuring that was what he wanted to hear.
"Do you— fuck— do you let a lotta guys do this?" he asked roughly. "Just— use you, to come?"
You shook your head. "No— I need something from them, they have to make me come. But you don't have to, Eddie, I don't need you to do anything to me except whatever you want."
"God," he choked, "that's— fuck. you're way too nice. I-I’m gonna— fuck, I don’t think I can last very long.”
You just smiled and reached up to hold onto his shoulder. “S’fine, you can come— I want you to.”
“Really?” he whined. “Fuck, I’m not very good at this, am I?”
“Just come,” you encouraged, “it’s okay, Eddie, just come inside me—”
The second you said that, he groaned weakly, head falling onto your shoulder; you felt it a second later as he gave you a few more weak thrusts, the flexing of his cock as he finished inside. Sighing in satisfaction, you shut your eyes and wrapped your arms around him tightly.
After a long silence, with his heavy breathing falling on your ear, Eddie rolled off and onto his back beside you on the mattress. “You look different,” you giggled as you turned to look at him while he stared up at the ceiling.
“I feel different,” he agreed. “That was— yeah. That was different.”
“Good different?”
He looked back at you, finally, with raised eyebrows. “Are you jok— yeah! Fuck yeah, that was— Christ.”
There was another long silence, maybe a few minutes’ worth, but it wasn’t uncomfortable at all. You and Eddie were always pretty good at silences. This one was heavier, and more meaningful, but just as natural as usual: until he broke it.
“Wanna do it again?” he asked softly.
Your eyes widened. “Uh— fuck, now?”
“Yeah,” he grinned at you. “I’m still— maybe this time you could actually— you know, uh—”
You bit your lip as he stammered over a few different sentences.
“Or if that’s all you wanna do, you know, with me, that’s fine,” he promised, “but, um… I feel bad, you know, that you didn’t…”
“Okay, yeah,” you agreed quickly, “I mean, if you can still—”
You hadn’t even finished your sentence before he was inside you again. Moaning louder, you tilted your head back and held onto his sides as he fucked you; his mouth latched onto your neck and you let out a small whimper. “Fuck,” he mumbled against your skin, “fuck— you feel so good…”
“I— Eddie, I didn’t think you could—” you began.
“I didn’t think I could either,” he laughed, “but it’s just— fuck, you’re so… I just need to— god…”
His thrusts were harder and faster than they’d been before, and everything was so slick with his come still leaking out of you; it was filthy in the best way.
“I didn’t think you’d let me do it twice. I… I really don’t deserve this,” he insisted quietly.
"Yeah, you do," you breathed. "You're so sweet, Eddie, you're my best friend— dunno what I'd do without you—"
"I lied," he blurted out suddenly. "I thought about it before. About how you would feel."
You barely even remembered the part of the conversation he was talking about.
"All the time, god, I thought about it all the time," he admitted with a lowered voice, resting his head on your shoulder, fucking you even deeper until your eyes rolled back. "Thought about it while I jerked myself off— how your pussy would feel. And it's so much better than I thought it'd be. You're really tight— I didn't know if you would be, 'cause, y'know, you're a slut."
You wanted to correct him on that old myth about tightness and promiscuity, but you were too busy trying not to moan so loud the next door trailers would hear.
"Fuck," he laughed, "you got even tighter when I called you that. Slut."
"Freak," you choked out through a moan, your instinctive response.
"You haven't seen the freak yet, princess," he smirked proudly, lifting his head up to look down at you. "I wanted to fuck you different than this, too— I thought about fucking you from behind. Smacking your ass and watching it bounce on me. Making you fucking scream."
"God, Eddie," you whined.
"Is this how they talk to you? All those guys you let put their cocks in you, do they treat you like this?"
"N-not exactly…"
"Well, that's too bad," he whispered, "'cause I can tell this is how you like it. Am I wrong? Do you like being fucked like a whore, and called one?"
"Yes," you sobbed, "yes, Eddie, I… I like it rough. And mean."
He chuckled. "That explains a lot. I can be mean, sweetheart."
The kiss he planted on your cheek, though, was gentle and delicate.
"Or I can be nice," he added in a whisper. "I can be whatever you want."
“Just… be yourself,” you decided, sounding more like an inspirational poster than you intended to. He smiled and kissed you on the lips after that, reaching down to hold onto your thighs.
Well, it turns out Eddie ‘being himself’ in bed means fucking you mercilessly. And he was holding onto you mainly to keep you steady so he could rail you halfway to fucking death.
It was useless trying to keep quiet now, while he treated you this way, and so your loud moans were muffled only by his lips on yours; until, of course, he broke away and you could hear them echoing around the messy bedroom.
"So good," he grunted, "so— so fucking good. Such a perfect pussy, can't believe you're letting me use it. I'm so fucking lucky— my best friend is a hot slut, I'm so lucky—"
You arched your back a little deeper still, clinging to him tightly, feeling totally helpless in the best possible way.
"Gonna let me use this pussy again?" he taunted.
"Yeah," you breathed.
"Whenever I want, right? You can be my little toy, baby. Your pussy can be my toy."
"Yes!"
"And I'll keep you so full of come," he promised, "so full, all the fucking time, you're gonna make my cock feel so good— fuck, baby, you're gonna let me get my cock wet all the time."
"Yeah, Eddie, fuck," you moaned.
"You're so pretty," he blurted out, and you almost laughed because of the sudden change of tone. "God, baby, you're so pretty— you look so pretty like this."
"On my back?" you smirked.
"N-no, you don't understand," he whined, leaning down so his chest was pressed to yours, whispering against your ear. "You're beautiful."
You smiled a little, holding onto him tighter.
"And I thought that before you let me fuck you," he promised. "I always thought you were beautiful. And that it should be me and not those guys you go home with."
"Y-you were right," you admitted, "but— we're still just… just friends, right?"
"Shut up, you're not fucking listening," he groaned, "I— god, I love you, okay?"
Your eyes were definitely just watering because of the intensity of it all; you hid your face in his shoulder, biting your lip, feeling your toes curl just above where your ankles were crossed around his hips.
"I love you and we can't just be friends anymore. You feel too good… I'm sorry, baby, we can't just be friends, I fucking need you."
“I— fuck, Eddie,” you whined.
“You love me too, right?” he breathed. Shyly, you nodded against him. “Then say it— baby, please, I need you to say it.”
“I love you too,” you choked out. “I need you too—”
"Oh my god I'm gonna come again," he gasped, tilting his head back. "Fuck fuck fuck, I'm gonna come inside you again. You're gonna be so full, baby. Gonna fuck you so full…"
“F-fuck, please, please,” you sobbed, your beaten walls clenching up every time he slammed himself into you all the way— it was too deep, but the right amount of too deep, somehow. “Please, Eddie, fuck!”
“I’m coming,” he grunted in a low and gravelly voice that made your spine tingle, “I— fuck, I’m coming again, fuck—”
This time, he stopped completely and suddenly, burying himself inside you with a long, deep moan. He slipped his arms under your arched back and hugged you tightly. This silence was much longer than the last, and a little less comfortable; there were all these questions hanging in it, including but not limited to: did he really mean all that? Did I really mean all that? Why haven’t we been doing this the whole time? Why is he so good at that? Are we dating now? Is this going to ruin everything?
It didn’t seem like it would ruin anything— actually, to you, everything felt right in a way it never had. You’d never really admitted to yourself how you felt about Eddie, let alone anyone else— let alone him, right now, in the middle of some spontaneous sex that you thought was going to change everything but actually made things suspiciously the same as ever.
That was what you realized, then: that this hadn’t actually changed anything. You’d loved him before tonight. You’d wanted this for a while. You’d needed him as long as you could remember. Everything could continue on as normal— except, hopefully, and presumably, that you’d be fucking a lot more.
As your mind raced, Eddie’s was completely and totally blank in a way it never had been in his life. He was entirely blissed out, and only came to when you shifted under him and made him hiss in a breath through his teeth.
Lifting his head, he looked down at you, reaching up to pet your cheek with his thumb and hum happily to himself. That moment couldn’t last too long, though, especially when he realized he’d failed at his goal: “Shit,” he groaned, “you didn’t come that time either, did you?”
You shook your head sheepishly, about to assure him that it was fine— there’d be other chances, clearly, and tonight was already more than perfect without that. He’d still done way better than you could’ve ever expected for a guy who was a virgin half an hour ago.
But before you could say any of that, he’d pulled you into a lazy, yet hungry, kiss; he smiled against your lips as his tongue carefully teased yours, holding your face in his hands. You were totally dazed when he pulled away, blinking up at him with totally undeserved innocence, and he had the most devilish look in his eyes. “Guess that means we’ll have to go for another round, huh?” he asked. But it wasn’t a question: he’d decided, and so had you.
summary eddie munson is super weird. he holds your hand too tight, he has a fascination with your neck, and he can’t give a hickey to save his life. good thing you’re super weird, too. [20k]
warnings two losers falling in love!! vampire!eddie munson, ditzy!reader (kind of), fem!reader, smut mdni (p in v, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, general heavy petting and kissing, praise), fluff, hurt/comfort, angst (eddie struggling with guilt and grief). canon divergent (the events of volume 2 take place but there’s a mostly happy ending i.e. everyone good lives and everyone bad dies) TW eddie doesn't have suicidal thoughts, but he does think about it briefly. not with intent or anything like that though. requested here for my halloween party <3
(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)
Eddie Munson never wanted to be a vampire, and he wants that on the record.
It's a ridiculous existence. It's embarrassing. It's nothing like all the movies and books promised him.
He's looking at you, Bram Stoker.
In Eddie's mind, Stoker’s nothing less than a liar and a sycophant.
"Who's dick were you bouncing on, Stoker?" he demands to know, kicking fallen leaf mulch under his feet angrily. "Need'ta fucking impress some vampire lover with your over-exaggerated, over-powered, ridiculous descriptions? Great. Hope it was worth it. Meanwhile I'm here, self-esteem half the size of a grain of rice because I can't scale a building with my bare hands."
Eddie would know. He's tried.
He's not genuinely angry with Bram Stoker, but he'd rather take his frustrations out on a guy who's been dead for a hundred years than take them out on the demobats, because he doesn't want to even think about the demobats. They're all dead too. Not before they'd had (see: devoured) their pound of flesh and changed his life for the worse, though.
He shakes his head to drive out the memory like water in his ears. It's easier to pretend none of that shit in the upside down ever happened. (Impossible to pretend. He begs himself to try anyway.)
He’s pissed because science fiction has promised him a lot of things and reality has delivered on none of them. No super strength, no impermeable skin. He is faster, but that's more a reflexive thing than anything else. And being faster doesn't make running fun. That’s impossible.
Sunlight breaks through the treeline and his skin crawls. Science fiction didn't get that right, either. The sun doesn't hurt. It's just really, really annoying.
He covers his eyes, winces at his itchy hand, pulls his sleeve over his fingers and covers his eyes again. "This blows," he says, and means it.
In Dracula, the sun nulls Dracula’s supernatural abilities. Eddie doesn’t have any abilities worth nulling, unless you count echolocation.
He doesn’t.
He walks another five minutes up the road toward Forest Hills when he realises you're behind him. His senses are enhanced now as a bat’s might be, hearing fine-tuned and dialled up every second of the day — which makes living in a trailer park where everyone thinks he's a murderer an acute misery — but he's as prone to distraction as anyone else. Especially when he gets stuck in a memory.
Eddie throws his gaze over his shoulder and finds you thirty or forty feet away, talking to yourself under your breath. He knows you more for your sounds than your appearance. To be able to put a face to your mindless babbling is a mystery solved. Of course you look like that. A skirt made of soft looking fabric bounces over two cute thighs, a pretty lacy corset type of thing that isn't too tight outfits your top half. You look more like a vampire than he does.
"Hi, Eddie," you call.
His eyes widen, a deer-in-the-headlights kind of surprise. If you notice how he's frozen you don't show it, continuing to push your bike toward him. The tick of the wheels grows louder as you get closer, two hands on the handlebars with wrists draped in bracelets, both silver and fabric.
Besides your jewellery, your arms are bare. You must be freezing.
"Hey," he says.
He doesn't know your name. He doesn't know how you know his, and he’s too awkward to ask.
Your sounds peak as you close the gap. The wet scrape of your dirty black canvas shoes over shining asphalt, the soft puff of your breath, the clinking sounds of whatever trinkets you have in your bag. If he focuses, he can make out the tiniest pinches of fabric. Your short sleeves rubbing against your arms, your bra straps stretching over your shoulders.
Eddie takes a deep breath and tries to diminish his senses.
"Where's your van?" you ask curiously.
"Piece of shit kicked it in the middle of town. Just my luck."
You pause at his side, looking him up and down obviously but without the judgement or irreverent disgust he's come to expect from near about everybody in Hawkins.
"That's not good," you say succinctly.
It's such a genuine response that Eddie can't find it in himself to be sarcastic.
"God awful," he agrees sullenly.
You nod and start to walk again. Eddie falls naturally into step beside you, matching your pace without thinking.
"You should get a bike."
He laughs. Coughs to cover it up. "Yeah?"
"They're way more reliable than a car, and it doesn't hurt the zone."
Eddie squints. "The o-zone?"
"Is there another one?"
You're still so serious that he spares you the ridicule he might dole out to anyone else. If Dustin had said something like that he would've ripped the kid a new one, but you're rather sweet in an odd way. You have a soft manner of talking — each word sounds like you've thought its pronunciation through meticulously beforehand.
He ignores your question and points at your bike, ring catching the sun. "Why aren't you riding it?"
"My chain slipped."
"So much for reliable."
That makes you smile. Eddie feels it like a punch, a flat palm slapped into his chest.
"You can't put the chain on yourself?"
A brisk breeze whips your hair, your earrings. The left kisses your cheek, a silver heart-shaped hoop with pink beads that click together. You lean into it, face tilted to one side as a perplexed smile plays on your sticky lips. "You can do that?"
"Sure, you pull it back around the gear. It's easy." He hesitates for a moment, and then feels guilty about hesitating. "I'll do it for you, if you want."
"The guy in no. 62 has been charging me ten dollars." You don't sound as angry as you should, in Eddie's opinion.
"I'll do it for nothing."
You beam at him. His chest feels like a bruise.
Pretty girls don't like Eddie. Not before Chrissy, not after. He's trying to work out your angle, what it is that you want.
Or maybe you don't know.
As soon as you find out who he is, you'll turn your pretty nose up at him and walk the other way. He shouldn't smile at you, he definitely shouldn't fix your bike.
He can't help it. He's so starved for positive attention that he follows you all the way through the park, westside to east.
He checks the driveway of his own home and smiles mildly when he spots Wayne's new car. It's new in the sense that it's different. It's actually way older than the one he'd had before, the one he'd pawned to pay for Eddie's — well, Eddie's everything. His check-ups, his court dates, his goddamn bail. In the same way that this trailer isn't the trailer, but an older, smaller one as far away from their first as possible.
Kid, if I had the money…
Wayne hadn't needed to finish. If he had the money, they'd leave. Leave Hawkins, leave Indiana. Settle down in some other mediocre Midwestern state with all the same creature comforts and none of the "You were acquitted but literally none of us believe you didn't kill someone," motif.
All they have now is debt, each other, and the Great Munson mug collection.
Eddie keeps his head down as they pass the old trailer. Nobody lives inside now. Only termites.
He can taste blood by the time they reach your home. Far from the metallicity of his human blood, Eddie's blood now harbours a bitter taste. Not quite like coffee but with that same overwhelming earthiness. He pulls his teeth from the bitten flesh of his bottom lip and quickly raises a hand to his teeth, alarmed.
No knife-like points. Normal teeth.
"Are you thirsty?" you ask him.
Eddie flinches and drops his hand. You've parked your bike against the wooden lifts of your porch and are halfway up the steps to your front door, hand clasped loosely on the railing.
His heart fucking pounds.
"I have grape juice?"
"Right," he says hurriedly, "right. Yeah, that would be awesome."
Duh, you meant juice.
You send him another endearing smile and pop up the last of your steps and into the front door. It's not locked. He doesn't follow, thinking you must live with somebody (who's gonna know exactly who he is and tell him to get lost).
He turns his attention to your bike instead. It's easy enough to fix. He rolls the bike so its handlebars are resting against your concrete driveway and covers the top bar of the metal body with his sneaker to stop it from toppling. He rolls up his sleeves and bares his arms, but pulls them back down immediately when he remembers the white-purple whorls of scar tissue lurking underneath.
"Fuck," he mutters. Everything is a reminder, all of the time. He can't escape what happened.
It's everywhere.
He's getting his fingers under the chain when you reappear. You've layered up, bracelets and naked arms hidden by a black hoodie.
The wind blows and your skirt shifts. From his position he can see a ladder hiding in your tights where your inner thighs are pressed together. He whips his gaze up like a high-school perv caught sneaking peeks in the girls locker room and notices the stitching on your chest for the first time.
"You like Dio?" he asks excitedly.
"Who?"
He wilts. "Uh, your hoodie. Dio."
"I got it for three dollars in the bargain bins," you supply helpfully, all pep as you climb down the stairs and offer him a glass cup adorned in dainty enamel flowers. "Is Dio good?"
He waves his hand at the glass apologetically. "Two seconds…" Lifting the chain with the second hand, Eddie tugs and then feeds until the links are lined up with the bumps on the big chainring. The skin on his fingertips get pinched and his eyebrows pull together in pain, but it's a mild irritant at worst and after a moment the chain is back in place.
He pulls his hand away and wipes dark grease down the front of his jacket. "I think I did it."
You're glowing, earrings like a metronome as you ask, "That fast? You're awesome."
He turns the pedal and your back wheel spins in time with his heart. You're awesome. When was the last time somebody who wasn't Wayne said anything like that?
Although Dustin had told him he thought Eddie was a much cooler, more fucked up version of the guy from Van Halen the other day.
You're just saying that 'cos we're both called Eddie, Eddie had said morosely.
Learn to take a compliment, dude.
When they aren't pity compliments, he might.
Eddie lifts your bike back onto the wheels to show you that it's working perfectly. You giggle your evident pleasure. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" you say, super sweet even as grape juice sloshes over the rims of your flowered glasses and drips down your fingers.
"Here, let me," he says, taking the glasses from your purple-stained hands.
You kiss your hands clean which is a thing, a lot to watch. Eddie admits to himself that he thinks you're really pretty, recognises that that is a bad thing to think considering the likely very short life span of your acquaintance. God knows you won't be saying anything as friendly when you find out who he is.
"You're so nice," you say. It feels like you're talking more to yourself than him. "Thank you. It's slipped off three times this month, and ten dollars is ten dollars. Wait, do you want ten dollars?"
"My services were administered charitably.”
Your smile grows. You accept your glass and take a small sip, eyes lit up as Eddie steers your bike one-handed to rest against the porch.
"Do you wanna come inside? I don't have any of the Dio, but I have Blondie."
He holds in a throwaway comment about real rock and roll, astounded that you’d ask him. "Your folks aren't home?"
"I'm twenty-two."
Eddie squints at you. "Seriously?"
"You didn't think so?"
He shrugs. It's not that you don't look twenty two. Or even that you don't act twenty two. But it's been a long time since he met somebody living alone in the park. Forest Hills is where poverty comes to settle.
"A boyfriend?"
"Just me and mister Porterson."
"That your grandpa?"
"That's my pet fish."
He smiles. It's his first real, authentic smile in days. He's genuinely elated by your offer and your attitude, but he doesn't know how to handle it, struck with a sudden nightmare of you, afterward, telling somebody you'd invited him in and he'd tried to hurt you. It isn't fair of him to assume you'd do anything like that. You've been nothing but sweet and sincere this whole time.
Eddie hasn't let his guard down in a long time.
You're giving him this wide-eyed, imploring look that promptly suffocates any fear.
And in a week, when she finds out who you are and feels betrayed, feels tricked? What then, Munson?
"You know what happened?" he asks.
"What happened?"
"Two years ago. Chrissy… Chrissy Cunningham?"
Don't say her fucking name.
Your expression clears as clarity blooms. You take a step. He needs a second to realise you've come forward rather than away, fingers twitching toward his hand.
"I know about it. I'm sorry that happened to you."
He stares.
This is a trick. Two years and he can count the amount of people who believe him on his two hands, and only because they'd all gone through it with him. Sometimes there are outliers, logical people who seem to realise Eddie couldn't have killed all those people, couldn't have been in all those different places without leaving any evidence behind. And sometimes there are people who agree he didn't kill Chrissy, but he's a coward for leaving her to die. (She’d already been dead.)
Eddie doesn't know what he thinks. Wayne sets the record straight every now and then with a clap on the shoulder. You did what every parent wants their kid to do. You lived. I can't ask for more than that.
"You don't believe it?"
"That you hurt her?" You hold his gaze, face practically impassive. "No, I don't believe it."
He pulls in a breath that fills every inch of his chest. "I could learn to like Blondie," he says.
—
You're standing in the driveway of Eddie's trailer with a heavy bag over your shoulder, face to face with a man who kind of looks like him but not really. You assume it's his uncle because who else could he be? If you hadn't seen him here you'd never guess.
"Eddie's mom must've had strong genes," you say. You bring your shoulder up toward your cheek thoughtfully. "He didn't get any of your face. Was she pretty? Eddie's really pretty."
"She was," he says, peering down his nose at you.
"I got sandwiches. Do you want one?"
"What kind?"
"I have ham and cheese, or ham and lettuce and tomato, or I have pumpernickel cookies. Is Eddie a vegetarian?"
"Why?"
"'Cause I only brought one cheese and cucumber, and I have dibs."
He climbs down the last couple of steps and is still taller but definitely less imposing, face covered in scratchy salt and pepper stubble and crows feet deeply embedded into the corners of his eyes. He looks like a man who has been tired for a very long time. You make a mental note to bring him some lavender for his pillow on your next visit.
"You're Eddie's new friend?"
You nod your head briskly. "Yes, sir. I'm Y/N."
He opens his box of camels like a pro, bottom pressed to his chest. He tucks a cigarette between his lips and pulls his lighter out. He doesn't light it.
"It's nice to meet you," he says eventually, voice warming.
You search through the mess of your skirt for the zipper on your bag and peel it open, pulling out your tupperware of cookies and cracking them open to release the fragrant smell of cinnamon and almonds. It's a heady scent, fitting for the holiday season approaching.
You offer Eddie’s uncle a cookie.
"Thought pumpernickel was bread," he says gruffly, taking one.
"It is, but there's this little town in France that makes these every year at Christmas and they call them pumpernickel biscuits," — he takes a bite and winces at the hard snap — "you're s'posed to dip them in hot chocolate."
"You don't say."
You nod happily and he moves aside to let you pass.
"Thanks, kid."
You turn back to him with your fingers curled around the door handle. "Of course! It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Munson, sir."
"Wayne is fine."
You laugh and repeat his name in a similarly rough voice, letting yourself in as Eddie had told you to do. You find him immediately in a man-made corner of the living room, pale and in his pyjamas. The trailer is open planned, a living room they’ve divided by propping a couch against the kitchen counter, a slim hallway leading to a cramped bathroom and the single bedroom. It's exactly like in your home.
You're somewhat surprised to see him in pyjamas. Eddie doesn't wear comfy looking clothes out of the house — you've only ever seen him in jeans and jackets like a real rockstar.
"Are you ready?" you ask.
You've invited him to come and search for bugs with you. Catching any kind of bug, whether beetle or butterfly or spider, is really scary, but you need to be able to catch them to draw them.
You'd expressed this to him over the phone and he'd said, "I can come and help. I have good reflexes."
He rubs his hands over his knees. There's a blanket pooled around his feet, a quilt he must sleep with, and the room is decorated with not a whole lot of stuff but enough to make you take a step back.
"Is this your room?" you ask, enchanted.
"Kind of." He pulls his hair from behind his ear, obscuring a pale cheek. "I don't think I can come with you today, I'm sorry. I meant to call you."
You toy with a dark thigh high sock as you ease out of your shoes, height drastically decreasing. "That's okay, we can stay here. I brought you a sandwich. I brought you two sandwiches," you correct.
He nods. Rather sadly, in your opinion. "Alright. Thanks."
You step over a tented paperback and hand off the cookies before sitting down beside him on the couch he's occupying. It's smaller than the one against the wall and round like a clam, lots of room for your legs to stretch out.
"I feel like a pearl," you say.
You and Eddie have been friends for a little while now. Long enough for you to realise he's either depressed or mentally unwell in some way. You hardly mind keeping him company on his bad days if he needs somebody, so drawing bugs will have to wait.
His hair is limp, not totally greasy but not super clean either. His face looks fresh enough, though the bags under his eyes make you frown.
You pull your purse into your lap, thighs covered by the thin layers of your midi skirt. "I have just the thing for you," you murmur.
"Yeah? Bring me another bracelet?"
You like that he sounds eager. Making his bracelet had been a challenge, lots of knotting and double knotting, three restarts and one small under the breath tantrum. It's not anything special, black and white hearts seven strands wide, but he'd been very appreciative.
"No, but I can make you another one if you want. I mastered the inverse chevron last night."
He hums. You pull a saran wrapped sandwich from the depths of your crowded bag, glad to see it's mostly intact. When you open it up you find that it's the ham and lettuce and tomato one, so you drop it into his lap haphazardly and move onto the next.
"Aha! Here," you pull a cucumber from your sandwich. "For you."
He takes it between two tentative fingers. "Thank you?"
"For your eyes."
"There's cheese on it."
"I'll still work," you assure him.
"M'not putting cheese on my eyes."
You laugh because he probably shouldn't put cheese on his eyes, cucumber adjacent or otherwise. "Okay, don't. I'll make you a hot towel."
He drops his hand on your arm as you go to stand. You like how he touches you, soft but not scared. "You just got here. Stay here." He pats you nicely. "Tell me about work last night."
You settle heavily into the seat beside him, your thigh to his thigh, your hip squished against his hip, doughy flesh separated by nothing more than a strappy tank top and a cotton long-sleeve t-shirt. His heat quickly becomes yours, a sinking transference of warmth.
"Well," you begin, cheek turning into the couch to face him. "It was mostly okay. I dropped another plate, but this time it didn't have a stack of waffles on it."
He smiles ruefully and sinks back as you had. Neither of you eat your sandwiches. "Progress. Taking it out of your pay?"
"Yes, definitely."
"Discrimination."
"That's what I said! I said, Sarah, I was born with butterfingers and you know that."
"She didn't budge?"
"Dishwashing all week next week. Whatever, though, 'cause it's Saturday."
He laughs and shakes his head, his gaze dropping to your neck. He does that sometimes. You can't blame him; you wear a varying assortment of necklaces because you think they're pretty, and you're glad he likes them too.
"See my new one?"
"What?"
"New necklace." You look down at your chest and pull the newest addition from between the cups of your bra. "It's real silver."
"It's nice."
"It's surprisingly heavy. Wanna feel?"
"That's okay," he says, slightly strained.
Right, you think. I'm talking a lot.
You press your lips together in a mild pout and look at him through appreciative eyes. He's a very pretty boy, all soft and pale and sweet dark curls.
"Do you want me to put your hair up?"
His lips part before he talks. "I don't know if you should."
"Sure I should. It's getting in your eyes, right?" You take his hand where it's laid unsuspectingly in his lap and slip the hair tie from around his wrist, his fingertips tickling the inside of your palm. "Sit forward, Eddie."
He takes a deep breath, holds it, and sits up. You twist and then realise you need some more height, pushing a leg under yourself to kneel next to his lap.
You weave our fingers softly into the hair at the front of his face and rake away in lieu of a brush. After it's mostly tamed you pull it all into one hand and wrap the tie at the base of his head. You hum to yourself as you go, pleased when his lovely curls behave.
"Voilà," you announce, moving back on your haunches.
He breathes out. "Thank you."
You reach for a curl you'd missed at the very front and encourage it behind his ear. He has subtle indents in his cheeks today like he's in need of a good meal, and his skin is colder than it should be when you flatten your palm.
"You need something to eat," you fret. Your fingertips stroke under his eye, your thumb his smile lines.
He moves away slowly.
You pull your hand back into your lap. "Maybe we can go out and get something, if you don't like the sandwich?"
"What?" he asks, pale lips taut as he simpers at you. "Are you kidding? This is about to fix everything that's wrong with me."
His enthusiasm emboldens you. "It so will! There's ham and cheese too, if you prefer that one."
"Get it! I'm gonna eat both of them." S
Eddie eats both of his sandwiches and you eat your own, the two of you with your heads dropped back against the couch as you watch TV. There's a guy you've never seen before running around the streets of Chicago city centre looking for people to be in his play. Eddie's seen it before. He repeats dialogue in time with the characters, performing each line. Impressive, what with how tired he looks.
"What did he just say?" you ask, mouth full of cucumber.
"He said he's gonna throw himself off a bridge," Eddie informs. "Poor guy. I know the feeling."
You swallow harshly.
"Seriously?"
Your sad tone surprises him.
"I- No, I'm kidding," he says, scratching the base of his throat, friendship bracelet his only adornment.
His nervous itching makes you even more worried.
"If you did wanna do that, you can talk to me-"
He baulks, tongue poking out past his lips as he licks the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, sweetheart," he says, pet name like a kiss. It sounds silly but it really feels like one, right in the centre of your chest. "But I'm fine. Promise. It was a bad joke."
"Okay," you say, letting your suspicion shine through. You hold his eyes.
You haven't known Eddie long. It feels like you met yesterday, though really it's been two or three weeks. You fit together in a way you hadn't expected and adore more than you can articulate, two funny puzzle pieces.
"Well, I just wanted you to know. I like being your friend, I don't want you to disappear."
He laughs and licks his lips, a rough, chesty sound. "I don't want you to disappear either."
Tires crunch outside, a shushing sound and then the sharp shriek of a jeep being put into park. Eddie perks up considerably, his shoulders straightening.
"Hey, Chief," Wayne calls.
Trailer walls. Basically made of cardboard.
"Hey, Wayne. Where's the kid?"
You can't hear what Wayne says after that, words stolen by the TV.
"Is that Chief Hopper?" you ask, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the mostly shuttered blinds.
"Yeah, he- He's friends with Wayne."
"Why's he wanna know where you are?"
"'Cause I got into so much trouble."
You bite your tongue. His tone is hard, not stern but almost, and you realise you've overstepped as you usually do. You want to apologise but you don't want to pick the wound, eager to gloss over and make him smile again.
"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" you ask him.
"What?"
You spread your legs wider to slide onto your thighs and make him the taller one again, legs bent in a 'W' shape. "Coming back from the dead! First Will Byers, then Hopper."
Something surfaces in his expression. An irony.
"The undead," you croon, aiming for a smile, a laugh.
He cracks. "The undead," he agrees, smiling in bemusement. His eyes are a funny shade of brown.
—
Eddie shoo’s you home early that night but tries to do it kindly. He feigns exhaustion, a facade that's difficult to uphold when his entire body is thrumming with want. If there's one thing Eddie hates about being a vampire (there are literally hundreds of things he hates, but this one's special) it's that he wants to hurt the people he likes a thousand times more than the people he doesn't.
He can't explain it. Your blood is more appealing than any lonesome stranger's. Your pulse is practically music to his ears when you sit beside him. He'd kill himself before he ever hurt you, though. Or that's what he likes to think. Whether he has that amount of control is debatable.
No. He would kill himself before he hurt you, or Wayne, or any of his friends.
Steve can see the way that he's feeling on his face.
Hopper's delivery set to one side, a tall glass with blood congealed in a sticky ring at the bottom, Eddie curls under his huge quilt and tries not to pass out. Blood sate feels the same as a thanksgiving food coma. It's awesome.
He hates how good it feels.
"Stop feeling guilty," Steve says.
"He doesn't look guilty to me," Dustin says beside him, taller than the last time Eddie had seen him but still miles off of Steve's tall stature. He's changed his hat again, this one a garish green. It's not a good look.
"He looks like he's napping," Robin says, delighted.
"Can you guys go home?" Eddie asks.
"Shithead."
"What Steve means to say," Robin corrects, grinning her huge, catching smile, "is that no, we aren't going home. We brought games."
"I don't wanna play games." He does. Eddie needs the distraction, because eventually the blood sate will fade and all that will remain will be self-revulsion and a cruel desire to do something awful.
"I do not care even slightly," Steve says, deadpan, as he sits right there next to Eddie where you'd been sitting before. Steve's nowhere near as soft and he doesn't smell as nice, but Eddie's honestly glad someone is willing to sit next to him at all.
"Ouch, what the fuck?"
Dustin looks up from where he's sat himself on the floor. Robin giggles in her seat on the coffee table.
"Munson, are you fucking shedding? I just got stabbed."
"They don't work like that. They retract."
Eddie feels at his broken gums with his tongue. There's a clean incision where his fangs come out and then snap back inside after a time. They're remarkably thin, fitting in front of his natural incisors neatly.
Steve grumbles, hips lifted and hand searching under his butt for whatever it is that jabbed him. He retrieves exactly what Eddie had been expecting but hadn't had the forethought to prepare a lie about with a shocked gasp.
"Is this an earring? You don't have your ears pierced."
He swallows, knowing it's a very guilty gesture, and meets Steve's eyes straight on.
Funny how Steve's hair speaks as much as his expression, bobbing as he nods his head to emphasise each word, "Munson, do you have a girlfriend?"
Silence.
"...Not really."
"Holy shit," Dustin says, sounding extremely pleased. "No way."
Robin tucks her short hair behind her ears, hands paused in disbelief at her neck. "Actually?"
"I have a friend," Eddie admits.
"Thank god," Steve says, dropping your heart earring onto Eddie's thigh. The silver feels extremely hot over his pyjamas, like it's been held in the centre of a blistering hearth.
"I really thought Steve was gonna have to take one for the team and give you a pity handie," Robin says agreeably, scratchy voice coloured by genuine awe.
Eddie groans, "Harrington, get this shit off of me. You know I can't touch that."
"I forgot," Steve lies. "Can you wait? My hands are busy."
—
He has Steve put your earring between two pieces of kitchen towel and holds onto it. He doesn't see you for a week, and he keeps your damn earring in his pocket that entire time worried it's gonna slip out and brand him at any second.
Finally, you call him. He pretends he wasn't waiting.
"Hello," you say, like you're announcing something.
"Hey. How are you?"
"Eddie, I need your help. Badly."
He flinches up where he'd been leaning casually, hard enough to make Wayne jump. Eddie smiles at him placatingly and mouths a poor sorry, turning away to pretend there's a semblance of privacy to be found in such close quarters.
"Are you okay?"
"I gotta find a rainbow leaf beetle. Do you have a torch?"
"...What?"
"They only come out at night, so I'm gonna go look but I don't have a torch that works."
He relaxes, the lilting cadence of your voice enough to make his whole night. You sound so pretty even through the phone. He suspects you could hold any pitch, deep or high, and you'd still sound nice.
It's all in the way you — he says this with love — perform the words. You speak like each word you're saying has equal importance, and it's calming.
Even when you say stuff that's nonsense to him.
Right now, you don't sound upset or even worried about not having a torch, simply curious to know if he has one. If he focuses hard (and he's been trying not to, as you deserve your privacy) he can hear you all the way across the park, shifting from foot to foot in your bedroom, carpet crushed under your heels.
The action makes him think this might be more urgent to you than you'd first admitted.
"I have a torch." He also has amazing night vision. Like, impeccable. "Can I come help?"
"You want to?"
"I'd love to. Are you going out tonight?" He leans back to glance out the window. "The rain is finally stopping."
"Yeah, tonight! Is that okay for you? We could go tomorrow if you can't."
You're willing to change your plans now that he's asked to go with you. It's a gesture as lovely as you are. Eddie doesn't think you'd ever think it of yourself; your kindness is so intrinsic you don't notice it, like the fine stitching of a leather bound book. Integral and widely unappreciated.
"That's perfect."
Wayne raises an eyebrow when Eddie relays the conversation. "You're going out in the middle of the night with this girl to… look for bugs."
Eddie crosses his arms over his chest. "I swear."
"Be honest with me, kid."
"I am!"
Wayne swirls his coke can around in his hand as he thinks, a reluctance evident in his scowl. Eddie knows he's way too old for a guardian's oversight like this but he lets Wayne have a say because Wayne loves him, and Eddie doesn't ever want to put his old man through the turmoil he went through when he ran away. If that means a curfew in his twenties, Eddie's okay with that.
"If you're going to have sex with this girl, I'd prefer you did it here. You have to treat women with respect."
Eddie shivers, full body. "Wayne," he groans, covering his face. He can feel his cheeks pink under his palms, that's how quickly his embarrassment rises.
"I know you're more responsible these days, and you're a grown up. If you want a girlfriend and you want to do adult things with her-"
"Jesus Christ."
"- then that's alright. You don't have to fool around outside."
He drags his hands down on his face, pained. "It's not like that. You met her, you know she's…"
"Strange?"
"Alternative."
"No, you're alternative. She's cooky."
"Don't," he says. He knows his uncle isn't actually being cruel, so he lets it lie and fights for his own cause. "We aren't messing around. She genuinely wants me to go find these bugs with her. And…" He hates himself. "She has her own place, you know? If we were going to-"
Wayne seems stricken by the same mortified embarrassment as Eddie, raising a calloused hand in surrender. "Spare me."
"Thank you," Eddie says, spinning on his heel to hide in the bathroom for a while. It's only when he's sitting on the closed toilet does he realise Wayne hadn't mentioned his more dangerous ailment. For a time, he'd been a normal (debatable) person having a normal (horrifying) conversation with his dad. Not a vampire. Not somebody who ruins everything he touches.
—
"It's so quiet," you whisper.
For you, Eddie thinks.
You're in the forest surrounding the aptly named Forest Hills trailer park, wielding your borrowed torch carefully into the dark. Eddie's following in your footsteps, trying not to smell everything that's on you today and failing.
You smell like a person as everybody does. Over that is your soap, a faint hint of milk and honey that sticks to your skin even after you've washed it away. Over that is your deodorant, 'unscented', and over that is your perfume, which he likes most. It's a mix of smells, some Eddie doesn't know and some he does. There's lavender, though that might be down to the bunch you'd brought for his uncle wrapped in newspaper, and there's something fruity he can't quite put his finger on, all of it wrapped up in a cloying pairing of vanilla and coconut.
"Eddie?"
"What?"
"Are you okay? You're almost as quiet as the trees."
If only you knew the trees aren't quiet.
"I'm alright," he says quickly, catching up to you where you stand a few feet ahead. "What are we looking for?"
Best change the subject. How to explain he'd been smelling the notes of your perfume?
"They rest on tree trunks. You have to be careful, any sudden sound or light will scare them away. But if you flash the torch on them, they shine like oil stains."
He loves when you talk. "Where'd they come from?"
"Place called Snowdon. They're so rare, they think there's only about a thousand alive there."
"Well, how did they get here?"
You laugh under your breath, so quiet he would've missed it if he wasn't enhanced. "I don't know. How do beetles get to different places?"
"They fly?"
A twig crunches under your shoe.
Eddie tips his head to the side, thinking. "If there's only a thousand, how-" He stops, your circle of torch light growing further and further away. "Are you sure that they live here?"
"No, but if they do we'll be the first to find them."
"So they've never found any out here? In- In the midwest?"
"Not yet. Where'd you go?"
He shakes his head in an affectionate disbelief. "Right behind you."
You search in silence for a while. Eddie wishes he could say he was mad, or even mildly annoyed, wishes he had even the slightest regard for his own time, but really he thinks any time with you is time well spent. Especially if it's helping you do something you want to do. Whether you find your rainbow leaf beetle or not, he feels better knowing he's out here with you to keep you safe and in company.
Conversation is sparing. He doesn't mind. Your footsteps fill the sound and he finds even that stupid detail charming, the crunch, the pick up. His own are silent, a rare advantage to his terrible affliction.
"Any other beetles you want me to keep an eye out for?" he whispers.
"I'm not sure…" You turn to face him, torch pointed at your shoes. Rubber toes touched together, you lean in until you're all he can smell. Perfume. Blood. "If you see any cool spiders, too."
"You have the mason jar?"
"You know I do."
More than you realise, he thinks. The glass clicks in your bag.
There's enough light reflected to see the most minute details of your face. Your nose, the circle of your irises but not their colour. He suspects Eddie from early '86 wouldn't have been able to see hide nor hair, and it wouldn't shock him if you were technically blind right now.
"Thanks for coming out with me. I was gonna ask you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, but I didn't want to come on too strong." He can sense your smile even though he can't see it. It's in the way your breathing deepens. "I know I can be a lot to deal with."
"Who told you that?"
"What?"
Eddie doubles down.. "Who told you that?" he sounds heartbroken.
He kind of is. Yeah, you're weird — Who cares? Who isn't? — but you're not a lot to deal with. He doesn't 'deal' with you.
"Everybody tells me that. All the time."
"Everybody's stupid." To say it so loudly, scathingly, is sweet. It's therapeutic. "They are. This whole town is stupid."
Your fingertips touch his thigh. He's willing you to turn the torch up and see his face, because he has a lot of feelings on display that he isn't brave enough to say out loud.
"You never make me feel stupid," you say softly.
"You're not."
You giggle breathily at his vehemence, fingertips pressing in with a touch more pressure before you pull away and shine the torch deep into the trees.
"This whole town is stupid," you mumble. "But not you."
He thinks of his friends who are definitely stupid, but he loves anyways. He's about to add them to the not-stupid (subjectively) list when he remembers Steve's discovery: your earring burning a hole in his pocket. He'd been carrying it for long enough now to forget all about it.
"Hey, I have something for you."
"You do?"
"Don't get too excited. It's not a gift."
He digs in his pocket for the tissue paper wrapping and hisses in shock as the silver plating of your hoop graces his index finger. You shine the torch at him. His eyes ache like he's been stabbed and he slams them closed, hand pulled to his chest.
How embarrassing.
"Eddie, what happened?" you question loudly.
He winces at the sudden overstimulation. Slowly, he blinks, and finds you staring at him in a worry that softens every feature, even your nose. He doesn't know the logistics.
"It's okay. Stabbed a paper cut on the back. Your earring's in my pocket, the heart?"
"The hoop? I thought I lost it." Your worry turns to confusion and then melds into joy. You step forward and fish in his jacket pocket for your earring.
"Steve found it."
"'The hair'?"
"Yeah, the hair."
You both laugh and yours heightens when you find the earring, pulling it out like a knife to be brandished. "Yes."
"I meant to tell you a dozen times that I had it."
"You're the best."
There's a crunch of wood somewhere to the left like something heavy falling over.
The forest sprawls in every direction and the trees tower, their presence looming as skyscrapers. The wind ruffles the topmost branches and their trunks groan with pressure. It's enough to freak Eddie out super sense or not, feeling suddenly like he couldn't protect you. He could hear the individual droplets of drool dripping from a lynx's bloody maw, and he can sense each twig underfoot before he takes his next step, but none of that is going to keep you safe in the face of real danger.
"Maybe we should head back," he says tentatively.
"Okay. Do you want to come over?"
His breath catches. "You want me to?"
"Yeah, we can watch movies, I have leftover pasta."
That sounds more like what he should've been thinking. "I don't wanna keep you up."
"What kind of pasta?" he asks.
The torch flickers. "With the tiny tomatoes. You'll like it, super creamy."
"How do you know?"
"You like Alfredo," you say astutely, hitting the torch into the palm of your hand. It flashes weakly, the shadow of the trees flickering and so dark they're violet.
"Try tightening the handle."
You turn the barrel of the torch and the light switches off completely. You try to undo what you've done to no success, the sound of plastic rubbing plastic almost as loud as your heartbeat. Your pulse falters and then grows to racing when the light fails to come back on.
"Eddie," you say, sounding unsure. It's a new sound on you. "I don't know where we are. How are we gonna get home?"
Your admission is like a dousing of ice water over his head. "You don't know what direction we came from?"
"No, do you?"
Eddie wouldn't know if he couldn't hear the sound of the electricity pylon buzzing somewhere to the right. But how can he explain that? "Uh, we were turned around."
You creep to his side and grab his arm with both hands. "Are you sure?"
"Hey," he says gently. "Hey, it's okay. I know where we are. We'll be fine."
"Are you sure?" you ask again.
"I'm positive."
You take a deep breath that doesn't erase your shakiness, a failed attempt at self-soothing. "I really don't know where we are."
"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?"
"Not really… I don't wanna get lost out here."
"You won't. I know how to get back. C'mon," he prompts, pulling his arm to encourage you forward.
You let go of him and navigate a few steps by yourself. He weaves through the trees, waiting for your heartbeat to slow.
It doesn't. He opens his mouth to reassure you again when you gasp, kicking your foot against a root and tripping. You barely fall, catching yourself on the trunk of a tree, and Eddie remembers himself. You can't see the trees. That's why you're worried. You can't see anything.
Then the smell of blood hits him like a freight train.
—
Your hand stings where you caught yourself, palm scraped down against harsh bark.
"Shit," you mumble.
You're panicking badly, and you're confused as to why Eddie isn't. Not only was it fucking stupid of you to come out here with only one torch, it was stupid of you to assume you'd remember what way was home. It was stupid of you to come here tonight for that stupid beetle, and stupid of you to drag Eddie along. You're an idiot, and now you're bleeding.
Your eyes sting with tears, pain like a popped seal. I'm so stupid.
"Hey," Eddie says, his tone silky soft, "you're okay. Let me help you up."
You hold your hands out.
"Eddie, this is weird." Hopefully he understands that weird means scary.
He takes your hands, fingers closing slowly over your bloody palm. His breath is loud as he pulls you up toward him like he's panicked but his grip stays kind, and you abandon the notion when he rubs over your knuckles with his thumb. "It's alright."
He doesn't sound the same.
"Eddie, we can't see."
"We'll go slowly, okay? I'll put my hand out and we'll walk around anything that gets in the way."
"Yeah," you say hurriedly, heart bump-bump-bumping against your ribcage.
He keeps one hand, the injured one, and starts to drag you slowly through the trees. His grip tightens as you go until it starts to ache, until it feels like it might bruise.
"Ouch, Eds. You're hurting me," you say, going for a lightly teasing tone and missing the mark.
Instantly, he eases off. "Sorry, sweetheart. You hold onto me, alright?"
You do as he'd asked, hand clinging to him as he leads. He doesn't squeeze you again, walking slowly as he'd promised, and the closer you get to the edge of the forest the clearer it becomes. Light pollution from the centre of town leaches through the trees like water trickling from an overflowing basin.
His second hand is in his pocket.
"Here," he says after you've traversed to the very edge of the forest. "There's the park. We're bona fide explorers."
He looks out toward the park and you look at the side of his face. Something isn't right. Something uncanny.
You drop your gaze from his face to your joined hands. They come apart, blood smeared in both your palms like two halves of a dripping heart.
—
There is something weird about Eddie. As a residential freak of Hawkins you think you're an authority in this, and you don't feel guilty for judging him. Your brain can't stop going over your night in the forest. For days you play the scenes back and for days you lose the details. You forget how the wind had tousled his hair, how he'd smelled, what he'd said.
You remember the way he'd squeezed your bloody hand. You remember the way he'd spoken, strained.
Not strained like he didn't want to comfort you, he had, but strained.
Restrained.
You're poking at the shallow cut half-healed now in your palm at work when a dude walks in, very tall, handsome, and gunning straight for you.
You straighten your badge and hide your bracelet heavy wrists behind your back, receding slightly as he approaches. He slows in front of you.
You have a light bulb moment.
"The hair," you say.
He scowls. "He told you that, huh. Typical."
"You're Steve?"
"That's me." Steve crosses his arms across his chest, his back to a booth, your back to the diner bar. "You're Eddie's new friend."
"What counts as new?" A month and a half doesn't feel so new to you.
"Trust me, you're new."
He has the strangest patch covering the outside of his left wrist, the same peculiar scarring that you can see on Eddie's waist when he reaches for a glass out of the kitchen cabinet. You don't ask because you're not a dick no matter how curious you find yourself, but it makes your heart skip. What is that? You'd assumed Eddie's was road rash. Now you're not so sure.
He tucks it under his arm.
You meet his suspicious gaze.
"You want coffee?"
"No."
You kick your foot, shoe sliding over the shiny waxed floor with a squeal. "Is Eddie okay?"
"Did you want to come to a party next Friday?"
"No," you say honestly. "Like a cult?"
"What?"
"Are you initiating me into your cult?"
He finally smiles, eyes creased with amusement. "I'm inviting you to our club."
"Club where you chew on each other?"
You look pointedly at Steve's wrist.
"No. Club where we play board games and drink jiffy pop. Come or don't, doesn't matter."
"If it doesn't matter, why are you asking me?"
It's a strangely intense conversation to have this early in the morning. Patrons chatter about work, coffee gets poured. The diner smells of syrup and sugar and bitter cold-press. You're both in work apparel, both refusing to move back. If this is some kind of shovel talk then that's fine, and if it's a test you're determined to pass, even if Eddie's been super weird lately.
"I'll come if you promise not to eat me," you say.
"It's really not that kind of club."
—
"I had the weirdest visit in the entire world today," you declare, stopping in front of Eddie's porch with a smile.
"Yeah?" he asks without looking up, guitar in his lap and pen scribbling over a lined notebook.
You wait for him to stop before you continue, leaning forward with both arms braced on the porch by his feet. "Steve Harrington came to see me, and he was super mean. You said he was nice."
He frowns at you. "I told you he was a dick."
"You like him when you tell me stories."
"How mean?" Eddie asks, patting the seat beside him.
You climb up onto the porch and plop down onto the couch, worn leather cold with the weather and damp in the seams.
You take a strand of his hair and curl it around your finger. "Not really super mean, but he was, like, acting like I killed a baby."
"He's like that."
You sigh and lean your cheek against the couch cushion, watching Eddie's stubble move as he tamps down a teasing smile. "He invited me to a party next weekr."
"It's not a party- Sweetheart, what are you doing?"
You tickle his cheek with the end of his hair. "Nothing."
"M'gonna sneeze."
You tickle him again, fine dark strands brushing over his pale cheek. He's a very ashen guy, you've found. Likely because he barely goes out in the sun and he doesn't eat enough. You draw circles around the apple of his cheek and grin softly at his growing smile, a sweet, silly thing.
"I'll tickle you back," he warns.
"Promise?"
He steals the curl back and tucks it behind his ear.
"You're not a cannibal, are you?"
Eddie chokes on air. You startle at his coughing and move to pat his back, palm slapping a steady rhythm into his shoulder. When he calms down you run your hand down the length of his arm, long sleeve t-shirt soft beneath your touch. You linger at his wrist and decide to hold it.
He drops his pen and your hand travels until he's caught your thumb. He kneads it in his fingers.
"I'm not a cannibal. Why would you think that?"
"I don't, but you and Steve are in your club, right?"
"Hellfire wasn't like that," he says heatedly.
"No, not- Not that one."
He doesn't say anything.
"You have… He has this scar, on his wrist. Like something bit him, or-" He turns to you and he looks formidable and upset and himself, not mad at you but raw emotion in his expression anyhow. It's gone as quick as it came.
"When all that… stuff happened," he begins quietly, "we got hurt. A couple of us."
You drop your head, ashamed at having pried. "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me anything else."
"Don't be sorry…" He squeezes your hand and lets it go. "Don't worry about it."
"Okay."
"We usually call ourselves a party, these days. Not a club."
"Do you really play board games and drink jiffy pop?"
"Sometimes we get really crazy and order a pizza. You should come."
You realise as he says it how much his wanting you to go had mattered to you. Eddie's your friend, and you don't think that you're going to stay friends much longer.
"You think your friends will like me?" you ask, voice descending to a new kind of gentle.
He puts down his guitar and his notebook. His full attention is something you've come to really enjoy, not because of the hunger you often see flitting across his face — though that's neat —, but because of the inklings of adoration clinging to his smile when he looks at you. His blinking lashes. He smiles at you and just slows. A usually frenetic boy calmed.
"Maybe not Mike. Mike doesn't like anybody. Except for Will," he muses.
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Who do you like?"
"I like all of them." He juts his cheek toward his shoulder, conceding, " I think Dustin's my favourite. He's funny. He's funnier than I am, and he's the smartest kid I've ever met. And he knows it."
Your eyes focus on the pink outline of his upper lip as he speaks. It's a pleasure to be this close, and see him in this kind of crazy detail. When you go home tonight you might try to draw him. You'll probably forget.
It's the kind of smile that deserves to be immortalised.
"I really like your smile," you tell him, hoping it'll last a little longer.
It stretches. The pink outline turns white. "Shut up."
"I do. I've seen a thousand different smiles but I've never met someone who smiles like you do."
"How's that?" he asks, edging toward you, face a mirror in which you can see your own charmed expression.
"Like you," — you shake your head with your lips parted — "know a secret. Something you won't tell anybody."
His smile abruptly ends.
You've nothing if not a talent for saying the wrong thing.
"A good secret," you amend.
He picks up his acoustic and gives it an experimental strum. "Maybe one or two," he agrees.
Relief catches you. You nibble at the inside of your lip and watch his fingers work over the neck of his guitar, tipping your head so you can read the words he's markered over the body.
"This machine slays dragons," you murmur to yourself. "Yeah? How many?"
"Just the one."
"Save any princesses?"
"Not yet." He plucks at the strings, lost in thought, before turning to you with eyebrows raised. "Can you play?"
You exhale out of the corner of your mouth as he pushes the guitar into your lap, an arm coming around your shoulder, the other reaching to guide your curled forefinger to the strings. You turn to face him, watching him talk with a growing fondness.
"It's easy, I swear. We'll do Call Me. Blondie's basic, even a baby could play it."
He realises you aren't listening and raises his gaze, shiny brown irises stuck on your lips. This close, it would be worse if he didn't look at them.
You glance at his, an obvious thing, half a wish. If he only lifted his chin.
Your breath mingles.
"It's easy," he says again, a murmur of his usual volume as his gaze pulls back up to yours. "I'll show you."
You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding; it's deafening. You wait, and you wait, and you turn your eyes back to his guitar and clamp your fingers down against the struts so he can't see them shaking with adrenaline.
—
Eddie sits beside Steve and tries not to admit to himself that Steve Harrington is, horrifyingly, his best friend (along with the rest of the party, obviously). Steve is the closest in age and Eddie can't make excuses (though he tries and tries and tries), Steve understands how much Eddie doesn't ever want to talk about anything that's happened to them, so he talks about literally everything else instead.
"It was the weirdest pawn shop I've ever been in. They had, like, a wall of combi's playing the same video at the same time but all slightly delayed."
Eddie blinks.
Steve turns his head from the TV, having expected a response. "Did you say something?"
"No." Then, because he's not a dick. "Sorry, Harrington. Want me to sit on your other side?"
"What for?" Steve says. Not because he denies how he's hard of hearing, but because he denies having conversations with Eddie.
He does end up moving to Steve's other side with a pathetic excuse. "I can't see the TV."
Steve doesn't say a word until he's sat down again. "Sorry I was mean to your girlfriend."
"Yeah, what was that about?"
"I was cranky because it was early and I don't want her to damage the integrity of the party." He gives equal weight to both reasons.
Eddie snorts at him. "Since when do you care about the integrity of the party?" Steve barely acknowledges that they are a party. He thinks that's a very nerdy way to say friends.
"Since always, dipshit."
"And inviting her to join the party was the solution because…?"
Steve drinks the rest of his coke and pretends to really care about what's on TV. "If," he begins after a minute, refusing to look at Eddie, "something happens with her, and something happens to you, that damages the integrity of the party."
"Steve," Eddie says, jaw dropped down to his chest, "do you have a crush on me?"
"Oh my god," Steve mutters. "Oh my god," he says louder. "I can't stand you."
To prove his point, he gets up from the couch with a wrinkled nose, stops to tap his shoe gently against Max's where she's sitting in the armchair across from the coffee table, and disappears into his kitchen.
Steve Harrington cares about me enough to give Y/N the shovel talk.
He feels kind of great about it.
But he's not sure your the one who needs warning.
That night in the forest, Eddie had almost snapped. There are rules to follow if he wants to keep people safe, self-imposed, Hopper-imposed, and he's broken too many with you already, the most important being no close proximity when he's hungry. Eddie doesn't even realise he is hungry half the time. He'll be standing by you and he'll want to touch you, and suddenly it's like he's three weeks in to the month without sating.
He thinks about kissing you and suddenly he's thinking about biting you, and hurting you, and it's literally tearing him up from the inside out.
How can he want to do that to you?
"You look so depressed and pathetic," Dustin says out of the blue.
Eddie pouts and falls back into the couch, Steve's fancy throw falling onto his shoulder. "I used to like you," he says, taking in Dustin's outfit with a kind of parental approval. He's getting older and it shows, slightly more handsome than he had been — he's kept all his baby weight and it suits him, his full cheeks surrounded by the softest brown curls Eddie has ever seen. The outfit stays immature, a funny t-shirt and ill-fitting pants.
"Sad. You have a sad face," Dustin says.
"Go play with your nerd squad, please."
He doesn't listen, collapsing in Steve's still-warm seat like a cheap tent and crossing longer, thicker arms over his chest. He smiles at Eddie genuinely. "Where's your girlfriend?"
"No."
"Where's Y/N?"
Eddie tips his head so he can see past the coffee table and points to where you're almost hidden, sitting with Robin on the floor by Steve's sideboard. You have a basket of tapes in front of you, the two of you trying to choose what's going in the stereo. Eddie prays for anything but Blondie.
You will most likely choose Blondie.
"What does she like?" Dustin asks curiously.
"Everything, kind of. Why?"
"I wanna know what to say when I talk to her."
Eddie smiles at his friend's face, a soft, surprised thing. "I don't know if she knows anything about the radio but if you're happy about it she'll be happy too. She's a good listener."
Dustin picks at a piece of lint on his t-shirt bearing a white and black print of a dog wearing sunglasses. "So you talk to her?" he asks without looking up.
"I mean, yeah. What else do you do?"
"With a girl that likes you? Huh, let me think." Dustin laughs and ruins his own sarcasm, pointer finger laid against his chin in a show of thoughtfulness.
"It's not like that," Eddie says lightly.
"It could be."
"Could it? I mean… I don't even know if she'll stick around. And I feel bad 'cos I can't be honest with her."
"Why not?"
"Hopper said he would literally put me in the hole if I even thought about it." There's no need to expand. Dustin would know better than anyone what he's talking about.
He cringes at the thought, self hatred a hot poker down his throat. He must've said it to Dustin a hundred times when he finally came around from his coma (that wasn't a coma, but a death, and then a rebirth). I can't believe I put you through that. I can't believe I put you through that. I'm so sorry.
I'm just glad you're alive, Eddie.
And for a while, Eddie hadn't felt the same. The world he'd woken up to was hard. There had been lawyers and grief and guilt and becoming. He doesn't have the words to describe how it feels to become something new, something that needs to hurt people to live, something that will hurt people to live, whether Eddie wants to or not.
The loss of choice is suffocating.
Though moments like this with his friends– they don't make it 'worth it', they're just how it had to happen. There isn't a scenario where Eddie could give up. He can't leave Wayne, and he can't leave Dustin. He can live with the grief of what he is if it means other people don't have to live with grief of what he isn't.
"Eddie, are you okay?"
He's missed something. Dustin isn't the only one looking at him.
He curls a hand around his forearm subconsciously. "I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go to the bathroom, actually. Gotta piss real bad."
"Eddie-"
"I'm fine, Henderson." He puts on a good show, patting Dustin's arm. His heart, usually so slow these days, has enough life in it to ache.
He can't have been in the bathroom for five minutes when somebody knocks on the door aggressively. He's expecting Steve, pissed at his disappearance and likely preparing a speech on attention seeking behaviours and how they're hurting the youth of America, so he opens the door with a tired glare.
He finds you, beaming and pretty, dressed ridiculously nicely for his idiot friends.
"Hi," you say. He can hear something from Blondie's Parallel Lines playing from the living room, familiar because it's your favourite album. "Any room for me?"
Eddie moves back. You close the door behind you. The bathroom becomes a vacuum of your sounds and smells.
"They didn't have any Dio," you say with a smile.
"I honestly wouldn't expect any different."
"You could've brought some tapes, your mix from the van," you suggest. "I love that one."
"Which one?" he asks, and he can't help it, whenever he's with you his voice crops to a dulcet murmur. The urge to speak to you as you speak to him is unconquerable.
"One with the winking smile on the slipcase. I really like it."
"You can have it."
You lean against the sink. "I can?"
"Mm. Whatever you want." Especially when you look like this.
You smile at him, your 'thank you' smile, all sticky fondness and mischievousness. He has no idea what you're thinking.
"'S a small bathroom in a huge house," you marvel. Your voice echoes "Where does he shower?"
"There's an upstairs bathroom."
"Two bathrooms? That's-"
"Audacious?"
"I was gonna say overkill."
Your candidness has him shaking with laughter. He clutches at his sides, arms crossed and leaning forward. You visibly take in his appearance, eyes panning slowly over his clean hair. He'd taken care to look like somebody you might want to look at tonight.
"Why don't you sit down, Eds?" you ask, eyes creased with an unreadable emotion.
Eddie feels blindly for the toilet lid and pushes it down so he can do as you ask, wondering why you're asking.
"You look very handsome today."
He hugs himself. "As opposed to every other day, when I don't?"
You take a step forward, a second, hands playing with the hem of your shirt. Your outfit today is delightfully simple, a pressed black t-shirt long enough to cover the waistband of your pleated skirt. There's an expanse of thigh that makes his heart beat spin out, one longer than the other where your thigh-high is falling down.
He wants to pull it up.
"C'mere," he says.
You take that last step between his shoes and he reaches out, getting his fingertips under the elastic of your sock and tugging it upward over the soft fat of your leg. Your hands come up to his shoulders for balance, and you say, "No, you look handsome every day. Today you look very handsome. I made the distinction."
He covers your thigh with both hands, looking up into your face as you look down. "You look really pretty today," he says boldly, fingers spreading behind your knee.
"Thank you. Do you like my t-shirt?"
It's a screen print of Debbie Harry. Eddie tries not to roll his eyes. "I love it, but your dedication to Blondie is seriously worrying, sweetheart." He gives your leg a short squeeze and pulls the most giggly smile out of you yet.
"Like Madonna."
"No!" he bemoans.
You laugh and grow closer, arms on his shoulder, a hand threaded into his hair. "Cyndi Lauper?" you suggest.
He puts a hand on your waist as you move in for a hug. Your arms wrap around his neck and the tops of his shoulders, cheek crushed to the top of his head.
He'd ask if you were okay if he thought you weren't. You're not upset or seeking comfort. You're affectionate. You've been getting more and more touchy for weeks, as he has. Stolen touches, your almost-kiss on the porch last week.
"No, not Cyndi Lauper," he says, his hand skirting around your back to pull you in properly.
"R.E.M?"
"God, no. Where are you hearing all this junk?"
"The radio."
"Tuned into the wrong station."
You pet the back of his head. "Yeah," you say softly, "I think I was."
The hug is shorter than Eddie wants it to be. You make one of your happy sounds and pull away to get your hands on his face, stroking curls from his cheeks with a protective touch. "Handsome," you say, turning your hand to stroke his cheek with your knuckles. "Pretty. You have really big eyes, Eddie, so brown, and so…" You tilt your head to one side, face inching forward.
He turns his face to suit, to fit, breath held as you close the gap.
"So pretty," you murmur, and kiss him.
His hands are limp and then alive, one clutching your hip, one splaying against your chest. He can hear the thud of your heart clear as day — you're bumping with excitement as you kiss him. It's a delicate, tender thing, the party suddenly far away, the music drowned by the sounds of your breathing. You kiss as you talk, as you move, gentle but with bursts of ardency. Your lips are a blissful heat, the tip of your nose smushing into his as you part your lips over his.
He lifts his chin higher, his neck craned to receive you. He's savouring every movement. Each pause for breath that you take. The feeling of your inhales over his quick-bruising lips.
Your hands play in his hair so sweetly it makes his eyes burn with an embarrassing amount of emotion. He screws them closed and squeezes up your waist, steadying himself as you feel along his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue.
You don't get much further than that, seemingly pleased with your own brazeness or perhaps his touch, eyes glowing with mirth as you pull away.
"Sorry," you breathe, not sorry at all. "You just really looked like someone should be kissing you."
You're flushed. Eddie can practically see the heat emanating off of your cheeks. He can feel it.
He stands up, your pulse a ringing in his ears. The wet valves of your heart opening and closing.
"Eddie?" you ask quietly, lifting your head to meet his eyes as he walks you back into the door.
His gums sting. A click.
It's a compulsion.
His hands curl around your elbows, holding you in place. Your eyes are wide with confusion, your lightly swollen lips parted. He can see the tiniest slip of your pink tongue.
He holds your gaze as he leans in. Your eyelids flutter closed. You wrap your arms around him as he descends, totally trusting.
He's a meaner kiss than you are. He starts slow but swiftly loses a handle on it, kisses short but insistent, hot presses like little crescent moons against your barely open mouth.
His hands move up your arms, a near vice-like grip until he finds your sleeves. His fingers slip underneath, hands hungry for your warmth.
You make the worst sound anyone has ever made as he moves back, like something has been ripped from you. A gutted gasp, near silent.
He placates as he wades back in. Thumbs rubbing your arms, lips mouthing damp kisses down your face. The corner of your pout, the hill of your chin, the skin under your jaw. Your head tips back against the door with an audible thud. You exhale hard.
Eddie can't feel his hands.
Your pulse hammers under his lips. He kisses it once. He can't think. He can't breathe.
"You're always cold," you whisper, your hands drifting lazily under the fabric of his t-shirt. Your fingertips trail up his spine. "But your lips are warm."
He kisses your neck, his lips parting slowly, a hair's width a second as he sucks your skin into his mouth gently. It's barely a kiss. He does it a second time. A third. You start to laugh, a golden sound.
The point of his fangs touch your skin and you stop.
Eddie closes his mouth abruptly. His hand leaps to your neck and he feels your heart skip as he holds you still. "I'm sorry," he says, nose rubbing over the damp spot he's left behind, your teased skin.
Your heart hikes again.
"I'm sorry," he repeats. He pulls away, an agony.
"It's okay," you say. Your breathlessness says otherwise.
Eddie takes as many deep breaths as he can stand, wanting to clear his head and filling it with you instead. Your everything; your smell, your skin. Your limp hands against his back.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks when he gets a look at you, your unreadable expression. He takes care to keep his head angled down so you can't see the lower half of his face.
"I don't think you could."
You cup his cheek in your hand and he leans into it, his weight against yours.
"I wanted to tell you something," you confess.
"What-" He licks his lips, wincing when his fangs slide into his tongue and scrape grooves across his taste buds. "What was that?"
"I know you…" You pause, fingertips rubbing at his cheek.
Does she know? Eddie thinks, horrified. He hadn't realised how scary waiting could be. A thousand worries condensed into a handful of seconds. Does she know?
How could she not?
You press your palm to his cheek with more insistence. "I don't want you to think you have to hide anything from me. I know you have scars," you say, fingers sliding into the soft baby hair at the back of his neck. "You don't have to cover up. You don't have to cover any of it."
"I won't hurt you," he says, trying to convince himself.
"I know."
-
You stay a while longer. Eddie's friends pretend that you hadn't been alone in the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time together. You thank them all silently and less so, trying to talk to as many of them as you can.
There's Lucas, who's really, really nice, and his girlfriend Max, who's less so. She gives you an unimpressed look through her thick-lensed glasses, but you compliment her crutches and she comes around.
There's Mike, who actually isn't anywhere as bad as Eddie had described him. He's not frosty or standoffish, he's sweet and he asks questions. There's a girl with him that you don't catch the name of, and a boy on her other side.
There's Dustin, who you adore immediately, Robin, who you adore more, and then there's Steve.
Steve offers you a pretzel like you're more than familiar. He strolls right up to you with a bowl of them in hand and doesn't leave until you've eaten half of them.
There's a couple of people you don't manage to talk to at all, and you feel guilty about it all the way home.
"What if they think I'm rude?" you ask, tired eyes locking onto the stereo system. The time blinks analog in the dark, 12:59AM.
"They don't, don't worry about it. You have lots of time to get to know them, anyway."
You hum and turn to his face, indulgent because you know he can't look back. "You're not too tired to drive, are you?" He's spent. Yesterday had been one of his bad days.
"I'm fine."
"You say that all the time," you observe, dropping your cheek into the passenger seat's headrest.
"I'm fine all the time."
"Liar."
"Nuisance."
You huff a laugh through your nose. The strands of his friendship bracelet, the small beads at the ends, swing like pendulums in the gap between his arm and the steering wheel. You can see the rough skin of a scar creeping out from under his sleeve.
"Mike was really nice," you say.
"He has a bleeding heart."
That feels accurate. "He reminds me of you."
Eddie rolls his eyes. You feel for every detail, the strange tension between you like a gaussian filter over everything. He's gorgeous in a horrific way, heartbreakingly pale, eyes dark as pitch, hands restless. They squeeze alone the wheel, thick fingers curling tight until his knuckles are stark white. Running down the back of his hands are veins like rivers. They're more purple than green.
"Eddie," you say, playful, a tiny bit insecure.
"What?"
"Wanna stay the night?"
His hand moves forward on the wheel like he's revving a motorcycle, the tendon in his wrist rising to the surface. He clenches. "Not sure it's a good idea."
"Just to sleep. It's late."
"I don't know if I can sleep next to you."
You don't wanna say please. You don't want to ask Eddie to do anything he can't or doesn't wanna do.
He pulls up outside of your house with his mind already made up. He gets out of the car and you follow his lead. He locks it, shoves the keys in his pocket as you join him on the path up to your porch.
He's been in here enough times to know what it looks like, but for some reason you find yourself checking his face, worried about what it is he thinks of your things, all your mismatched trinkets, your stained glass lamps, your life as you let yourselves in. He ducks through the beeded curtain into your bedroom wary that they'll get tangled in his hair like they sometimes do.
"Do you wanna call Wayne?" you ask, gesturing to your telephone on the right hand side, nestled between a stack of books and a cup full of coloured pencils.
You pull your knee up to your chest and unlace your shoes one at a time. Eddie punches the number into the phone and holds the receiver to his shoulder to do as you're doing. It takes him less time to pop his sneakers off than for you to get out of yours. He's just taken the phone back into his hand when Wayne picks up.
"Wayne?" he asks softly. "Didn't wake you up, did I?"
You can't hear his response.
"I'm gonna stay with Y/N tonight. Yeah, we had a good time. Yeah…" His eyes drift to you as you peel out of your thigh highs.
"Yeah, I'm still here. What?" He meets your eyes and it feels accidental, because he throws his eyes to your bedsheets and turns his face to the wall. "No," he says firmly.
You scrape together something to wear for bed and some fresh underwear and leave for the bathroom, telling yourself that nothing is gonna happen so don't get your hopes up but not wanting to get caught out if it does. You freshen up, brushing your teeth and washing your face.
You stare at yourself in the mirror and wonder if you should've left your face-powder and your mascara on. Maybe even the skirt. You'd looked nice and pretty for the party. Now you look like yourself, still pretty but without those extra touches. Will he care? Does it matter?
You debate your pyjama pants considerably.
There's a lot happening.
Eddie is… Eddie is something else. He's different, you'd known that for a long time, and his kiss had confirmed it.
He's something out of a science fiction book.
Well, nobody's perfect.
Whatever he is, he'd kissed you. You'd kissed him and he'd responded, he'd come back for more, and now he's sitting in your bed when he could've gone home. You bring your hand to your neck and crane to one side, fingertips poking at your unbroken skin. His hickey's haven't even bruised.
You screw the pants up and drop them into your laundry basket. You take off every piece of jewellery on your person.
"Do you wanna use the bathroom?" you ask from behind the beaded curtain. "I left a new toothbrush for you on the sink."
"Yeah, desperately, I…" He takes you in as you emerge. Fresh-faced, bare-legged. As naked as you've ever been in front of him, physically and otherwise.
Eddie meets you where you're standing. He's ditched his jacket, and for the first time since you met him you can see the full length of his arms.
"You're not wearing your bracelets," he says, looking between your bodies. His hand twitches toward yours.
"You have tattoos," you say.
"They were better, before."
There's a misshapen mess of black splodges near the crook of his elbow broken up by scar tissue. One arm is less scarred than the other, an almost perfect flank of white skin.
"Is that a puppet? He's super spooky."
"Mh-hm."
You bring your hand to his tattoo and feel over the skin. It doesn't feel like it's there. Eddie holds your wrist and the two of you move together, your fingertips stroking up until you're wrapped around his bicep.
Eddie brings his free hand to your collar. His index finger straightens, encouraging your chin up so he can ease forward and kiss you. He's firm, eager, and your lips curl up into a smile underneath it. He turns his head to the right and you fall left, smile worsened when you feel his own start to form.
He nudges your nose. You take it for a telling off and laugh. "Sorry," you apologise, kissing his top lip.
"You're making this difficult," he chides.
Despite any sternness, Eddie loosens his grip on your wrists to slide his fingers between yours, pressing your joined hands to your chest. He leans back down and he's careful, almost methodical in the way he kisses. Chaste pecks, hot and precious as tiny stars.
You reach for his waist.
Eddie kisses you a final time and steps back. "I'll be back," he promises.
You lower your chin, flustered and perplexed by his sudden departure.
Walking around to the right side of the bed, you click on your bedside lamp — a beautiful glass and foiled contraption that throws dainty stripes of stars and hearts over everything close in the dark — before climbing in. You sniff one of your pillows experimentally, trying to remember when you last changed the bed. You decide they're acceptable even if they really smell like your hair oil and flip them around to be safe, plumping them up with your hands.
You've curled up on your side and almost succumb to your fatigue when Eddie returns, bringing with him the smell of spearmint and a fuzzy feeling in your stomach as he shuts off the light and sits on the opposite side of the bed, facing you. The hair around his face is damp with water, baby hair's limp.
"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to wear, I-" Youre cut off by your own gasp as Eddie kisses you, his hand on your neck, his nose bridge sliding into your own. You hadn't been expecting it, and it's no less dizzying than any other kiss he's given you today.
"It's okay," he murmurs lowly, lips pressed to your lips, "have to wear you, is all."
You huff a laugh into his mouth. "I swear I'm always laughing when I'm with you," you muse as Eddie dedicates himself to your bottom lip. You cup the back of his head. "You're amazing."
Eddie groans and eases back. "I'm not good with words, sweetheart. To tell you how I feel about you."
You push one of your legs toward his knee. "...You can show me."
He shifts in the bed until he can lean over the entirety of your chest, hands cupping your face and lips poised hovering over your own, a millimetre of space between your mouth and his. "Okay," he says quietly.
He dips down. You can feel his bottom lip tremble, and then he's kissing you too hard to feel it anymore. You wrap loose arms around his back.
"Are you sure?" you whisper to him.
He rests his nose against your cheek, eyes closed, drawing the tiniest left to right. "I want you," he reassures.
"And you're okay?"
"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm okay. Do you want to?"
"Yeah. More than anything."
Another loving kiss against your cheek, Eddie moves down, down, down. "Tell me if I do something you don't like," he murmurs, top lip dragging and leaving a line of dampness to the base of your throat.
He adorns the canvas of your neck in half-moon contusions, big hands caressing your shoulders, your chest. You hold your breath as his fingers pass over your nipple, fighting to keep in any embarrassing sounds.
Eddie disagrees with his plan of action. You shiver as he brings his lips to a close and his bottom teeth scrape upward, as he pulls his head up and says, "C'mon, angel, breathe."
He follows his command with a manipulative touch, a circle over your nipple that makes you shudder. He kisses you and it feels like a thank you, pressure, a heat as his palm smooths over the bump of your tummy to your thighs. He squeezes the outside of one and for a while you can kiss him back, and then he pulls your thighs apart and you break away. Eddie follows, kisses you even when your reciprocation is weak.
He pushes your thigh flat to the bed.
You feel the heat of your excitement start to grow. Your stomach aches with the want to be touched.
"You're like a space heater, you're that warm," Eddie says, hand coasting down the inside of your thigh. He squeezes until fat melds under his fingers. "Are you scared?"
His whispering in your ear, his hand as close as it is to where you want it, it winds you up like a coil. You sigh as his thumb strokes the edge of your panties, sound coloured by an awful, devouring desire.
His face presses further into yours in reaction.
His touch is like the tide. He wades in, away. His thumb strokes inward over something soft and then his whole hand moves back to your thigh.
"Teasing," you utter.
"A little… Why, is there something you want me to do?"
His clueless whispering is infuriating and exciting at the same time. Your heart races and you can't discern if it's more lust or love.
"Touch me," you plead, pouting, knowing he's a pushover.
Anticipation stabs like a needle in your tummy as he slides his palm over your cunt completely. He rubs a careful, almost casual rhythm into your panties with the breadth of his fingers, lips kissing a lazy stripe up to your forehead, where he rests his face. You both watch his hand move past the valley of your rising chest.
"M'gonna pull these off, yeah?" He sits up, fingers pushing under the sides. "Lift your- yeah, thank you, sweetheart."
You buzz with his pet names, his soft voice, the feeling of your panties sliding up to your knees and his gentle exhale. You swear you can feel it fan over your slit. "Shit…" he moan, pulling at your spread cunt.
He looks like he's in pain, eyebrows pinched together and murmuring curses as he circles the wetness gathered at your entrance. You turn your head searchingly as he starts to ease his index finger inside your heat, a gentle probing.
One becomes two. He muffles your sighing with firm kisses, amorous praises, "That's it, baby, relax," as he works you open, fingers wet with slickness but not enough. He changes his position, pushing his middle and marriage finger inside and curving as his thumb slides up your slit looking for the bead of your clit.
Slow, slow circles. "There, huh?"
You shiver as he pushes in deeper, fingers as far as they can go. He spreads them wide, drops reassuring kisses all over your face when you keen. It's so new to have him kiss you at all, and to have him touching you — you're melting into nothing right there in his hold.
"I got you. Tell me if it hurts, okay?"
"Want you to- I want you to fuck me," you murmur, arms wrapping around him so you can hide your face in his neck.
"Fuck. Fuck, baby. Gonna fuck you just as soon as I can fit," he murmurs back, sinking three of his thick fingers into your snug cunt. He pulls wetness out with every thrust, a line of slick dribbling down onto the sheets underneath. He wipes it upward and pushes it back inside, his chest heaving. "Y'so tight, gotta take my time. Take our time." He rubs his nose against your head until he can kiss the highest point of your cheek. "Make sure you can take it."
"I can."
It doesn't bear repeating how quietly you're speaking, a mouthing inaudible under the wet, rhythmic thud of Eddie's pinky finger slapping your sticky cunt as he ups the pace of his finger-fucking.
"I don't think so," he coos, pulling his fingers from your cunt and making a show of spreading them wide. Your slick ribbons between them, almost invisible in the dark. "Ruin your sheets before any of that, maybe."
Eddie sits up and gets his hands under your armpits. You laugh as he tugs you up so your shoulders are on top of the pillows, but you don't have time to be confused. He quickly moves to kneel at your feet and pulls your leg over his shoulder, your back lifting unevenly from the sheets.
He starts with a sweet kiss pressed to the skin closest to his mouth, your lower thigh, and then works his way up, open mouthed, barely kisses at all until his hair whispers against your sensitive cunt and he's nipping at the stripe of skin between your thigh and the place where you most want his attention.
"Pretty," he says into your damp skin, lips shining. You reach down to stroke his hair behind his ears, worried he's gonna get it dirty.
He looks at you from between your thighs, his eyes dark in the dim light, their lashes long and soft where the outermost flutter into your skin. He's lovely.
He holds your gaze as he pulls back to your inner thigh. "Pretty everywhere," he says salaciously.
His lips part over your skin and you think he might bite you, a bruising hickey, but he pushes you down flat to the bed by your hips and kisses your clit, a simple kiss. Your fingers weave deeper into his hair. Your fingernails scratch lightly against his scalp, every tiny lick or kiss reflected in the minute tightening of your hands.
He goes slow, mouths down, kisses wetter and wetter as he reaches your entrance. "Poor girl," he murmurs, hands pulled down to further scandalise. He sinks two fingers inside and laughs into your cunt. You squirm.
"What happened? You're dripping on my fingers." Your thighs draw closed around his head as he curls his fingers against a soft spot.
"Eddie, can you-" You swallow. "Please. Please."
He pries your thighs open and rubs them soothingly, lapping at the heat of your cunt in face of your pleading. His tongue appears broad and flat up the centre of you until he's kissing on your clit, fingers pumping in rhythm. Your fingers work into his hair and he groans, the vibration enough to make you whimper under his mouth.
He laps at your clit messily and you tip your head back, breath coming in tight pants. You don't know what you say, only how you say it, desperate "please,"s and keening "Eddie,"s.
His thrusts grow in enthusiasm, fingers rubbing eagerly against something sweet. You pull your legs up and nudge his face to your cunt insistently, thigh shaking as you hold it up. Eddie doesn't need any more encouragement, his pretty pink lips suckling at your clit until you see stars. You make a pained little sound and try to move away from his kissing, startled at the intensity of your high.
Eddie lets your clit pop out of his mouth with a lewd, slick sound, his hands moving under your thighs and pulling you closer. "Good girl," he says, rubbing his wet face against the inside of your thigh. He inhales hard as you are, though he pauses to kiss your kneecap and pat your leg. "Good girl, sweetheart."
"I'm sorry," you say breathlessly, hands pulling his hair from his face. Pleasure rolls through you in hot waves.
"For what?"
"Tugging on your hair," you explain, shoulder pulled up to your cheek.
Eddie kisses your tummy lovingly and climbs on top of you to do the same just under your chin. "It’s okay, sweetheart, I like that shit. That was good, huh?" he asks, lips dropping down to yours all wet and warm.
He's not bragging, he's genuinely asking.
You nod into his kiss, your hands coming up to his sides. You swear your ears perk up as he unzips his jeans and eases them down, a hand disappearing into the mess of fabric. He moans quietly at the first touch.
You move his hair out of the way to watch. Eddie tugs at the length of his cock with a cruel hand, a short dribble of pearly precum sobbing down the tip and under his fingers. He spreads it as it goes, the slickness emphasising the ridges and veins of his cock. You can see it throb, if you look close enough.
He sits back and eases his jeans and boxers down enough to reveal a thatch of curls that brush his hand with every pump downward.
"You okay?" he asks, smirking.
You pull your shirt over your head and your chest warms at his adoring smile. "Will you take off yours?"
He doesn't hesitate like you worried he might. He sheds his t-shirt, pulling the fabric over the back of his head and dumping it off the side of the bed.
You take in his chest and it's abundance of ragged scarring still purpled with newness. He has a tattoo over his heart, a black whorl of legs and eyes. Fine dark hair crawls from the middle of his chest down his navel, joining with the thatch of coiled hair surrounding his aching cock. You shuffle forward and wait with two tentative hands held aloft until he says, "It's okay," before you touch him. You run your hands down the soft slopes of his waist.
"Does it hurt?"
"Not anymore."
"Can I kiss it?"
He snorts. "Prefer you kiss something else."
That really makes you laugh. You dot a kiss against his jaw and can't make yourself stop, dropping them all the way to the skin behind his ear. Your hand creeps lower as you go, held to the curve of his tummy. His skin is hot to touch the lower you go, and his stomach feels solid, a heaviness you know all too well.
"Can I touch you?" you whisper into his ear.
"Please."
You drop your forehead against his chest and he brings his hand up to cup the back of your head. His cock pulses as you wrap your hand around it, skin smooth and slick as you palm slowly up and down. You watch in awe as a bead of precum wells at the tip, Eddie's rough breathing loud overhead.
"Lie down, Y/N," he says, hand moving behind your naked shoulders.
"What way?"
"How do you want it, sweetheart? We'll do it whatever way you want."
You think about it. Whatever way you want. No matter how indulgent, you know he means it.
"Will you spoon me?"
He pushes you gently and follows behind, dragging your body into his front and angling your hips, cock hot and prodding your back. He gets his hand under your knee and pulls it up, splaying your cunt. You jump in surprise as he pushes his cock through your folds, tip rubbing against the still sensitive bead of your clit.
Eddie wraps his arms around you, hugging you from behind. "You wanna put it in for me, baby?"
You reach between your bodies and take his sticky cock into your hand, shifting until the head nudges against your hole. He sinks in inch by inch, arms tightening around your waist and grinding you down onto his cock until you're whimpering.
You grab at his arms with your hands and tether yourself to him as he starts to rock his hips, his thrusting tender and his face turned into your neck.
He presses his hand flat to your abdomen, an anchoring point as he moulds your weepy cunt around his length, each slovenly movement into your heat spreading you that little bit wider.
"Fuck," he says finally, sounding seconds from a black out. "Oh, fuck- You're tight. Gonna fuck you open slow, okay?"
You're pretty sure you'd let him do just about anything. You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss every white knuckle, every freckle you can see on the back, and when he bottoms out your cover your lips with his stolen hand to smother a tearful gasp.
Eddie's thrusts are spearing in their steady rhythm, a dirty slap ringing with every punching thrust forward. You curl in on yourself and hide your mouth in the sheets, wet pants smothered by fabric. Eddie's grip falls to your hip, where he pulls your body back and forces your cunt open even deeper.
His cock pushes into your sweet spot sudden and emphatic. You moan and he stills, rutting into that same space without pulling out until you're babbling his name, body knocked forward with every thrust.
Eddie turns your face toward him as much as he can without hurting your neck, your moans echoing in time with each thrust. "There you go," he says, "wanna hear how good it feels."
If he cares that you can't answer him he doesn't show it, arm coming up under you arm to grasp at your chest, your breaststroke soft and aching under his hand as he squeezes tenderly. His cock kisses at the sweet spot inside you intermittently; you're dizzy with it.
Eddie can't keep quiet either, his moans breathy, his breath hissing between his teeth when you clamp down around him. "Fuck," he begs, dragging his cock out of your heat, "fuck, Y/N."
He says your name like the syllables alone are appraising.
You can tell when it gets too much for him. He slows. His face drops into your shoulder, and he matches his pace to the wet kisses he leaves behind. Your wetness feels stickying, each of his thrusts snug.
His breath hitches, ragged pants accompanying every slow push of his hips. "Where's my girl?" he asks, eyes still closed as his hand abandons where it'd been squeezing the bump of your tummy to search further downward, fingers disappearing into your folds, short curls wet with slick. He can't find any purchase. You roll your hips, chase his touch and the pleasure that comes with it.
He groans into your shoulder. It sounds more pain than pleasure.
"Are you okay?" you ask, trying to turn in his arms. He holds you in place. "Eddie?"
"Yeah, fuck, I'm okay." He grinds up into your cunt. "Fuck, you're perfect."
"Will you kiss me?"
He does. It's nowhere near the bruising press you'd wanted. It's too careful.
"Listen," he murmurs, "I'm gonna get you on your front, okay? Gonna make you feel so good," he promises, waiting for you to nod before he pushes your shoulder away from him and climbs up behind you. You lay flat on your stomach and Eddie settles on your thighs, a heavy weight.
He pushes into your cunt with two fingers first, the new position allowing for a new pleasure. He pumps in and out and swaps his fingers for his cock quickly after, bearing the full weight of his body into your back as sinks to the hilt.
You both moan in time, hands fisted in the sheets.
He kisses your neck, lips parted, and his teeth feel so sharp that your heart sinks as it had in the bathroom.
"Eddie-" you start.
He pulls away, stops every movement.
"Eddie," you say again. What are you supposed to say? You both know what he is.
There's a lull where neither of you knows what to do filled by your too-fast breathing.
"I won't hurt you," he says, hands rubbing up the length of your back and then under. He holds a hand over your heart. He drops his lips to your back. "Do you want me to stop?"
He must feel your pulse calm under his touch, but he still asks again when you don't answer. "Do you want me to stop? It's okay if you do. You're okay, baby, I promise."
You steal a pillow from against the headboard and rise up on elbows. Your admission comes weak but completely honest. "Fuck me, Eddie, please... I want you. I want you-" Your murmuring's interrupted by a sharp breath as Eddie starts to move again, the head of his cock pushing into your cunt, a slick, perfect feeling.
He moans from the back of his throat as his cock pushes into you again and again, hips smacking the dough of your ass as his pace quickens. You hug your pillow tightly, tears popping up in the corners as he ruts deep.
"Being so good for me," he groans, clamped down on your hip with a vice-like grip. "Fuck, you feel so good. Fucking clinging to me every time I pull out, baby, Christ." His blasphemy is punctuated by a thrust that has you sliding up the bed, sheets wrinkling under your arms. You spread your thighs and wetness pools at your clit as his pelvis thrusts into you, driving pleasure so deeply it aches in your hips.
You moan pathetically and reach back to hold his hand, wiggling your fingers. He takes it in one and presses your arm against your lower back with the other, struggling to maintain a steady pace as he gets close to cumming. You're a babbling stream of sounds as he fucks in deep, swollen sweet spot tapped against mercilessly.
He throws himself back on his haunches, cock dragged out of your heat.
You pull your legs out from underneath him and curl onto your side to watch, eyes wide as white spurts of pearlescence jump out of the head of his reddened cock and drip down the bumps of his fingers. He leans back, his stomach and thighs tensed with every pump.
He groans through a smile, moan's coloured by a happy, relieved laughter. "F-uck," he drags, fisting his cock dry.
He meets your eyes as the last of it slides down onto his stomach.
You smile softly. "Fuck," you mumble.
Eddie wipes his hand in his jeans like a fucking hooligan and tucks his cock back into his boxers with a wince, and then he collapses on top of you. He's sort of nice about it, his arm over your shoulder and his face behind your ear.
"Fucking beautiful," he praises, dropping his head back on the bed so you're face to face. "You're so fucking pretty. So perfect." He kisses you. "You're perfect," he repeats, staring intently into your eyes.
You pull a hand from between your legs, smelling of sex. Eddie literally couldn't care less if he tried, and he lets you take his face into your hand without complaint.
He gets his arm under your arm and starts to rub your back. "You want me to take care of you again?" he asks, eyebrows raised gently. "Yeah?"
And you would let him, you would, but you need to see them for yourself.
You touch your index fingertip to his lip.
"Can I see?" you ask.
He loses his boisterous joy, tamps it down. He realises that he can't lie, that he hasn't been lying, and he nods. You tremble as you pull his lip up over his canine tooth, excited and scared.
A sharp, exceptionally white tooth pokes out of Eddie's gums. You're taken aback, though you'd known exactly what you'd find.
A fang.
Blood oozes at the gums.
"You're bleeding," you worry aloud, touching your finger to the dark beading at the base of his tooth.
Eddie's eyes rove over your face thoughtfully. He pulls your hand away from his lip and sets it on his neck instead. "They always do that. The gum heals, breaks when they wanna come out."
"How often do they come out?"
"A lot more since I met you. Whenever my adrenaline spikes, they seem to think it's… feeding time."
That is a dizzying thing to learn.
edit
You're not sure how you feel, but you know one thing: he's Eddie. "It's too bad," you say, forcing a lightness that turns real more easily than you expect. "I really want to kiss you right now."
He strokes your cheek with his thumb. "I really wanna kiss you too. Maybe a small one?"
You find yourself leaning forward, unafraid.
He kisses you once, twice, three times, the two of you holding each other's faces and covered in mess. Slick and sweat and blood. The hearts and stars from your lamp spray over his hip and paint him with pinks, greens, oranges, a rainbow cutting over his trim waist. You rest your hand overtop, feel his keloid scars like hills under your fingers.
"My boyfriend's a vampire," you mutter, bemused at fate.
Eddie blinks at you. "I'm your boyfriend?"
"Yeah, I think so. Don't you?"
Eddie pulls you into his chest and doesn't let you go for a long, long time.
-
Your first time watching a blood sate is weird.
For one, Chief Hopper is firmly against it. He's got his kid with him, the boy from the party that Mike had been so heavily doting on, and if he didn't you might think he was a pretty scary guy.
"I think this is stupid," the chief says plainly. "I think this is stupid, I think you're stupid," — he points at Eddie where he's sitting sickly in the round couch — "and I think you're plain crazy, kid." He points at you last.
You beam at him. "People have said that about me."
His kid laughs.
"Will," Hopper says tiredly, "go sit in the car."
"Look, Chief, I know I messed up, okay, but she kind of stuck her hand in my mouth and I didn't really have a choice."
Wayne looks at you with new eyes. "You did?"
You nod at him faux-seriously.
"And what gave her the inkling that you might have had something in your mouth worth looking at?" Hopper says, which is hilarious. You laugh behind your hand.
He gives you a disapproving look that you completely ignore. If you'd taken notice of disapproval you would've stopped having this much fun years ago.
"Uh, well, she might have… felt them?" His pitch rises.
Hopper looks like he's about to blow a gasket when Will says, "What was he supposed to do? Never talk to anyone new ever again?"
"He did a lot more than just talk to me," you say. There'd been a fixed bike, phone calls, lots of sandwiches, bug hunts, an entire sketchbook full of drawings.
"I told you to wait in the car," Hopper says.
Will grins and raises his hands in surrender. "Bye," he mouths. You wave.
Hopper waits for the door to close before he continues. "I get it, when you're a teenager you think your hormones are the end of the world-"
"I'm almost twenty three."
Hopper pinches his hand closed. "But you do not understand the danger that you are creating here."
"Like a stake-ing," you whisper, very very quietly. Eddie's the only one who can hear you, and he laughs so hard he snorts.
"I'm glad you find this funny." Hopper's tone could not imply the opposite any more.
He hands Wayne a paper bag that audibly sloshes and stalks out, his anger a palpable cloud of steam rising off of his shoulders. Eddie seizes up beside you at the sound, lips parting as his fangs come through. You don't touch him because you value your blood inside your body, only slide away from him and smile. "You okay, handsome?"
"Kid, maybe the chief is right. We don't know how Eds is gonna act with you here," Wayne says.
You nod respectfully. You like Wayne, and he knows about all of this stuff more than you ever could.
"No," Eddie mumbles, putting his hand out for you across the couch.
You take it without thinking.
Wayne sighs. You can hear him grumbling as he disappears from view into the kitchen and puts a pot on the stove. There's the sound of a bag being punctured with a knife, a wet slosh. Eddie's grip on your hand tightens.
You're still fascinated that he even drinks blood in the first place. That's wickedly sickening. Wicked, because it's cool that he's a vampire, with his impressive hearing, senses and smell. But sickening, because if you had to drink a pint of blood every couple of weeks you'd throw up.
"I read about a new blood-sucker."
Eddie raises his heavy head. "Another bug?"
"No, a finch! A vampire finch. They're really pretty, Teddy. They're small and brown with long beaks and they drink blood because there's barely any water on their island." You give him a loving smile. "They aren't parasites. S'just how they had to change to survive."
He squeezes your hand, this time on purpose.
"Are you gonna come and have it in here, Eddie?" Wayne asks, one last shot at separating the two of you.
"I'm okay," he says loudly. His eyes trace your smile. "Really."
It can't be fun to have two people watch you drink a warm mug of blood, but Eddie finds it funny. He keeps laughing every time he brings the rim of the glass to his mouth.
"I can't do it if you're looking at me," he says.
Wayne rolls his eyes and looks away. You cover your face with both hands and part your fingers to spy on him through the gaps. He makes it look easy, draining the mug basically in one long pull, though his hunger turns violent as the cup empties. He chokes. Blood trickles down from one corner of his mouth.
You automatically want to reach over and wipe it away. Wayne grabs your arm before you can and gives you a fatherly look that says, I wouldn't do that if I were you.
"Shit," Eddie says, slamming his now empty mug down on the coffee table. It makes a grating sound like a ground mortar and pestle. He sits as far back on the couch cushions as he can, nausea clear on his face.
"Deep breath," Wayne says.
"Fuck, Wayne."
"You're aces. Deep breaths."
Your heart hurts watching Eddie like this. He covers his mouth with eyes closed tightly and breathes hard through his nose. Already there's colour coming back into his face, not a lot but anything is an improvement. He'd been practically grey.
When Eddie pulls his hand from his mouth blood has spread over his lips and jaw. Your eyes widen.
"I'll get the shower running," Wayne says, slapping his knees as he stands. He stops before the hallway. "Good job, Eddie."
The boy in question slouches into a ball on the sofa and nods into a cushion. You wait for the sound of Wayne pulling the shower cord that turns on the hot water before you stand up, head tipped to one side.
"You okay, handsome?".
"Tired."
"You want a hug from me?"
"Is anyone else offering?" He opens one eye to peek at you and grins at your distraught expression. "I'm joking, I'm kidding. C'mere, before I start bawling." You sit and then flop onto your side, pulling your legs up next to his. "Such a frowny face." His voice is adorably tired.
"Better than yours. You look like someone from Night of the Living Dead, baby."
Eddie's arm lies limp like a dead fish over your waist. "Lemme nibble on your brains," he says, words thick as dark honey, eyes closed. "Just a snack."
You're waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under your feet. No way your boyfriend, your cries at the end of every movie, brings you flowers because he felt like it, won't step on cracks in the sidewalk boyfriend just skulled a glass of O-negative like it was a milkshake.
You feel guilty as soon as you think about it. He's not confined to all his softest parts and he never will be. He's snarky and angry and loud. He plays guitar like a real rockstar and he doesn't take anyone's shit. He's a survivor. A glass of blood every now and then was never gonna stop him.
You keep wondering if you should let him suck your blood. It could be hot. It could also probably be the worst idea ever, a relationship faux pas up there with proposing after a month or saying I love you on the first date.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks.
You brush the hair out of his eyes with your ring finger. "Embarrassing relationship fumbles."
"Oh yeah? Like letting your girlfriend watch you drink human blood from a mug shaped like Woodstock?"
"Least it wasn't Snoopy."
"God forbid."
"Is it always like this?" You stroke your hand down his face and rub along his jaw with your thumb. "D'you always get sleepy?"
"Yeah." He turns his face so your hand covers his mouth.
You've stopped wearing silver jewellery, your wrists bare besides the endearingly awful friendship bracelet he's constructed for you. Not a friendship bracelet, he'd corrected. You're not kissing other friends, are you? Because that's really gonna put a downer on this whole thing.
You dip your forehead to his chin and the two of you lay there in silence. You can smell blood, a thick, metallic stick permeating every corner of the room. It's especially strong between the both of you.
"Do you wanna bite me right now?" you inquire without opening your eyes.
"Not really. Blood sate kicks in quickly. It's the worst for, like, the first ten seconds after. Now I wanna sleep, but Wayne's gonna make me shower."
"Maybe I can shower with you."
"I'm sure he'd jump for joy if you suggest it."
"Really?"
Eddie kisses your hand. "No," he says with a giddy laugh.
"I'll pretend I'm gonna sit on the toilet. Keep watch."
"How will you stop your hair from getting wet?"
"I'll lean out."
Eddie laughs even more than he had been, peeling laughter that warms you from the inside out as he kisses your hand again. "That'll definitely work."
Wayne clears his throat.
"Shower's hot. I'm going out. For an hour." Eddie perks up. His uncle looks him dead in the eye. "Don't make me regret this."
And while Wayne had been under the impression you and Eddie were gonna have some grown up fun together in the shower, what you really do is an innocent act of affection: you wash Eddie's hair.
"You have to lean your head back," you chide.
"I am."
"More than that."
"There's no room."
You're lucky you both fit. You're freezing standing behind Eddie, the only relief the warm water that trickles down from your hands to your elbows as you draw circles in his scalp, working the shampoo into a fine lather.
"How did you get blood here?" you ask, scratching rusty flakes from the hair behind his ear.
"I don't know. It gets everywhere. Like eyeshadow."
You push your chin over his shoulder. "You wear eyeshadow?"
"For shows."
"Really?"
"Is it hard to believe?"
You encourage his head under the water and rake your hands through his curls, encouraging the soapy water down to the ends with patient hands. "Lip gloss too? Hey, can I do your makeup?"
"Maybe tomorrow," he bargains. While the shower has helped to wake him up, lethargy remains thick and unshakeable as adamant.
You kiss the wet ridge of his shoulder blade, picturing his pretty face decked out in dark liners and sticky balm. "Thank you."
"I haven't worn any in a long time. Haven't played a show in a really long time."
You wring the water out of his hair and search in the steam for his conditioner. It's mostly empty. "You could put on a show for me. I never got to see you play," you say, shaking it really hard. A dollop collects in your hand and you work the dregs through the ends of his long hair.
"You want that?"
"I think you're the best guitar player in the world."
You're not joking. He's the best, and he plays guitar. And he's pretty good, semantics aside. You love sitting out on the porch with him and listening to him play old rock songs off the top of his head. You could watch his hands move over the strings for hours.
"If that's the case, I can definitely put on a show. Make-up, costume, stage dives. The whole nine yards. Anything for my girl."
You roll the ends of his hair between two coated palms and step back. "There. You have to let it soak in for a couple of minutes."
Eddie turns with a grin, angling his chest and hair forward, away from the stream.
"Whatever will we do?"
You wipe an escaped streak of blood off of his bottom lip and smile. "I have no idea."
You kiss. Eddie leans down and you move up, damp noses glancing off of each other. You're used to short kisses, never enough to make his heart race in case it prompts an unnecessary appearance of his fangs, so when Eddie encourages your lips apart to wade in deeper you pull back questioningly.
"Blood sate. I'm 'sated'. They won't come out."
Your jaw drops. "For real?"
He shakes his head with a pleased smile. "For real. Kiss me sick, sweetheart."
You throw your arm around his neck and drag his face to yours, kissing with an ardency that both surprises and amuses him. He laughs into your open mouth until suddenly he's not laughing at all, only breathing, pushing against you with the same urgent force and the same adoring smile.
"Does this mean you can give me a hickey?" you ask enthusiastically. Eddie has yet to give you a proper love bite.
He leans back under the show spray and pulls you in with him, laughing when you dissolve like rice paper in his arms, finally warm. There's never been a sweeter sound.
/\^._.^/\
thank you for reading! | my masterlist | my halloween party
if you enjoyed reading his, please consider reblogging. i promise it makes a huge difference
✶ One shot - is a part 2 to untouchable but can be read as a stand alone
Pairing | Eddie x his best friends little sister
Post summary | You’ve been in love with Eddie since you can remember. When he refused to see you as anything except for his best friends, untouchable, innocent, little sister, you worked out a way to get him to look at you differently, now you deal with the fall out of it.
What to expect | Established friendship, mutual pining, jealous Eddie & reader, lots of tension - no use of y/n
Post Warnings | Drug mention, F oral, Fingering, voyeurism, public sex acts, slight choking - let me know if I missed any
Word count | 6 K
Authors Note | Okay first of all - Tumblr was being a B and wouldn't let me post, so I had to refresh and lost all of the tagging I did (which took me for effing ever) I'm posting this and I'll tag everyone once I've had a goddamn ciggerate. Anyways, I wrote a long ass part 2 and then decided I wanted to halve it and make a part 3 because I have an unhealthy obsession with ending things on a cliff hanger (sorta) but it's written and proof read and will be posted 24 hours after this. I hope this lived up to everyones expectations
As always, any & all comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Love, P. x 🌿
I jumped at every sound that drifted down the entry hall, flipping through an open novel spread across the kitchen counter that I wasn’t paying attention to, as I re read the same paragraph for the fifth time. My nerves spiked and my fingers gripped the next page, in danger of ripping it from the spine of the book as the front door smacked open and my brothers voice rang out.
I hadn’t seen or heard from Eddie since what happened under his Hellfire table. He’d ushered his club out as soon as the campaign ended, providing me with a quick escape as I fled from the room and didn’t look back. I’d worried about what to say – or not to say – the next time he turned up with Trevor, but I shouldn’t have bothered panicking about it because Eddie had been ominously absent without an excuse.
I couldn’t very well go and ask my brother about it, his response making me choke up before I could even figure out the words, and I didn’t want to give myself away as the reason why Eddie might be avoiding me – and by extension Trevor. But tonight was movie night, and if Eddie missed this without a good enough reason – like a broken leg or death – Trevor would get suspicious.
I definitely had not changed my outfit three times and spent an hour on my makeup just in case Eddie turned up for tonight.
A shiver shot down my spine as I leant further over the counter, burying my head further into the book as I fidget, trying hard to look relaxed and unbothered as footsteps filled the empty hallway.
I couldn’t help my glance up as an unfamiliar footfall slapped against the linoleum.
“Umm… Hi?”
“Hey” The tall blonde smirked at me, helping herself to a drink from the fridge as her short mini skirt rode up her thighs. My stomach sunk as I watched her prance around the island bench, leaning on it as she popped open the soda can and glared at me over the lip of it.
“Who are you?” I hissed, slamming my book shut as I straightened up.
“Laura.” Her eyes flashed in surprise at my animosity and her smile was sickly sweet as she took a loud slurp, leaving makeup stains on the can.
“Right… and you’re here why?” I was afraid of the answer.
“Move night.” She grinned and tossed her hair back as my face dropped, my lunch threatening to make a reappearance.
“Or a movie date, whatever you want to call it, we met at the Hideout.” At that moment she glanced towards the hallway, and I spun around to face what my anger was internally screaming at.
Eddie was hovering in the darkened entry space, turned towards the living room but facing to where I stood shaking in fury next to the stranger dressed like a whore in my kitchen. His brows knotted as he spared her a glance and his hand moved to rub at his jaw as his gaze reluctantly moved to mine.
I didn’t know what I expected, something along the lines of how he’d looked at me between his legs in front of his throne, or if he wanted to pretend it didn’t happen then maybe how he’d always looked at me, like a kid sister. The dark resolute of disinterest bordering on anger was not what I thought I was going to find when his glowering stare met mine.
Trevor chose that moment to burst through the doorway, shoving past Eddie as he came to stand around the bench. He slowed and rested his fist on the countertop as the thick tension hit him, his eyes flickering between our faces.
“You ready babe?” I spun around as he slid his arm around Laura’s waist, accepting her kiss eagerly as he scowled at me over her shoulder, not knowing what caused the awkward atmosphere but blaming me for it anyway.
“Wait she’s here for you?” My voice came out in an unplanned shocked screech.
“Obviously, who else?” He stared at me like he wouldn’t expect me to consider Eddie as a possibility. I tried to not be noticeable as I dropped my eyes from them and turned back to face him but he’d disappeared from the door frame.
“You joining us?” The microwave door creaked as Trevor slid a bowl of unpopped corn kernels into it.
“Uh yeah.” The whole situation had caught me off guard, and I’d answered without thinking.
I hesitated in the kitchen as my brother and what appeared to be his new girlfriend, giggled and groped at each other as the occasional pop echoed off the cabinets, I groaned and grabbed my water bottle as they started making out without shame, heading for the living room filled with the blue glow from the tv set that was geared up and ready to play Trevor’s horror movie choice of the night.
I waited for him to acknowledge me, but his eyes were glued to the paused screen, leaning his head into his arm perched on the side of the couch. I briefly considered taking up residence in the uncomfortable chair directly next to the tv and facing away from it, but that would look more suspicious to Trevor than sitting next to Eddie on the couch we always shared.
“Hi.” My voice was small as I gripped the bottle tighter to my chest, unsure where we stood after what happened between us. His eyes flashed to my face, softening as they moved behind me to see that I was alone.
“Hey you.” He allowed me half a smug smirk as I took a probing step forward, returning his smile with a careful one as my heart unclenched a little.
“Haven’t seen you for a bit.” I walked past his spread knees as I plopped onto the furthest end of the couch, trying to keep my eyes on his and not how tight his pants were around his hips as he stretched and tugged his jeans down an inch.
“Yeah, had some stuff to sort out.” He titled his head towards me as his stare burned into me, and even in the cold space between us, the night time sky seeping in through the open window casting long shadows over us, I could feel the suffocating zaps of electricity that flared between us.
It was strong enough to steal my breath away, too strong for me to have imagined it, and from the way Eddie’s eyes darkened as his eyes fell to my lips, he had to be feeling it to.
I opened my mouth to say something when the entry hall light flicked off and Trevor strutted into the room, bringing the strong smell of butter with him.
“Bunch up man.” He nodded at Eddie as he gestured for Laura to take a seat, handing her the bowl as he went to go grab the tv remote.
I heard Eddie’s low sigh as he balled up his hands and used them to push into the couch, propelling him towards my end as I shuffled up against the very edge of it. The room blackened completely as the screen went dark, the quiet static creeping through the speakers.
Fuck
In the darkness the tingling tension between us hiked up a hundred times more, almost palpable in the air. My breathing stopped, and from the way Eddie froze beside me as he went rigid from trying to keep the non-existent space between us, so had he.
The couch groaned under Trevor’s weight as he folded himself onto the opposite end of it, slinging an arm over Laura and pulling her into his side from where she was wedged between him and Eddie.
The screen lighted up, the words ‘based on a true story’ spread across it as it faded back into blackness and a scene of a happy couple making out at a lookout, took its place.
“Thought this was supposed to be a horror, not a romance Trevor.” Eddie hissed, digging his hand into his knee as he picked at the loose threads and grimaced at the display of affection in front of us.
“It is, dude.” Trevor glanced over the mound of blonde hair to shoot Eddie a concerned look. I burrowed down into the cushions away from Eddie, crossing my arms across my chest as I tried to melt away.
Any other night if I was sat in front of an R-rated movie, I’d be jumping and letting out little squeals the same as Laura. But I was too focused on snatching my hand back when it reached out to brush against Eddie’s thigh like it had a mind of its own, barely catching myself in time. I was literally having to remind myself to breath as every little shift that brought our bodies together, sent a flash of heat from wherever our skin touched.
He was driving me insane, but most infuriatingly of all was how unbothered Eddie seemed. Even though it felt like he was going to strenuous lengths to avoid touching me as much as possible, he was slouched in a relaxed position with his head leaning against the back of the couch, his hands resting in loose fists along the curve of his lap.
I swallowed hard as his lashes lowered against his cheeks, his breath fluttering from his parted lips as the mixed colours of gore from the tv, reflected off his sharp features prettily.
I’d turned my head too far and he noticed me, I dropped my gaze just as Eddie’s eyes slid to mine, watching my cheeks blaze in indignation at being caught. I felt his stare burning heat into me like an actual physical touch and I couldn’t help myself, I glanced back up shyly to find his almost black eyes focused entirely on me now.
The upturned corner of his lips twitched as a tight coil constricted around my chest, making it impossible to breath as his eyes trapped me. I caught my lip between my teeth as Eddie leant across my lap, his fingers brushed my knees as he swiped up the bundle of blankets at the corner of the couch.
“It’s cold.” He didn’t give the others a choice as he tossed a blanket into Trevor’s face, turning his back on him as he tucked the fleecy material into the contours of my body. I stayed as still as stone as Eddie draped it over my shoulders, his warm breath tickled my neck as he bent close to whisper in my ear.
“If you bite your fucking lip one more time, I’m going to do it for you.”
Fuck
I was lucky it was dark because my face was on fire, my breath blew past my lips in a shudder as Eddie sunk back against the pillows. A satisfied scoff vibrated through his chest as he lightly hung the rest of the blanket over his lap, his arms disappearing beneath it.
Spurts of red danced across the screen as the movie reached the point of the killer going on a spree, his victims screams bounced off the walls and drowned out my gasp as Eddie’s fingers brushed against my thigh.
His light touch traced across the fabric of my skirt, quickly moving down the side of my naked leg as my breath tumbled out in gasps. The thin blanket bunched up in my lap as I twisted it in my hands, gulping as Eddie’s fingers tips crawled over the top of my thighs, making his way to the blazing heat between them.
Eddie kept his eyes on the screen as he bantered back with Trevor over the low budget gore effects, squeezing my inner thigh until I relaxed and spread them apart for him.
I didn’t know what was in the air between us that made even the slightest touch feel like a lightning strike. But my body betrayed me as it became alert to every delicate brush of Eddie’s fingers, every inch that brought him closer to my drenched panties made me tremble against him.
I buried my groan by biting into my fist but he wasn’t so subtle. Eddie’s head fell back against his shoulders and let out a sigh through clenched teeth as his fingers slipped between my folds, flicking up and down through my slick as I anchored myself to the couch, holding on for dear life as his finger tip moved over my swollen bud, rubbing constant circles until my legs were shaking so hard the pillows beneath us started moving.
I whimpered as Eddie’s hand curved, pressing his first long finger inside of me, the intrusion burned slightly as he stretched me out before drifting off into a new sense of pleasure. I’d played with myself before, too many nights to remember where I pretended my smaller fingers were Eddie’s long ones, covered in bulky rings as they slammed into me.
But out of all the times I’d imagined this, I didn’t expect to have to have to swallow my cries because Eddie was secretly touching me in front of other people. Eddie laughed loudly to cover my moan as he slid a second finger deep into me, leaning forward over his lap to block me from view as I grabbed his wrists above the blanket, using him to keep me steady as the feeling of his hand threaten to send me over the edge.
“You’re actually enjoying the movie?” Laura scoffed, glaring at Eddie as I tried to blink through my tears of pleasure.
“Uh yeah, I actually really like what I’m watching.” He smirked, covering his mouth with his free hand as he glanced over at me through his thick lashes.
My head snapped back as I couldn’t stop the shudder and soft whimper that fled me as Eddie pushed up against a sensitive soft spot deep in my pussy. I squeezed my eyes and shook my head as Trevor asked me if the movie was too scary, not trusting myself to speak.
There was a roar of a chainsaw and Laura shrieked.
“Oh my god stop stop stop.” I scrambled as Eddie ripped his hand from between my legs, rubbing his jaw with the fingers still drenched in my essence as he glanced at my brother reaching for the remote. I used the distraction to shimmy my skirt back down my thighs, pinching the fabric of my panties to cover my slit again after Eddie had shoved it out of the way for himself.
He turned his head to look at me with alight eyes as my chest heaved and I sat up straighter, breathing deeply as I tore the blanket off my lap and let it fall to our feet, wanting to hide the evidence. Eddie grunted and curled over like he’d been punched in the gut as he glared at me, his hand pressed against his crotch.
I narrowed my eyes back confusingly at him before he huffed and his hands quickly dipped beneath his pant line, readjusting his hard on before the others noticed it straining against his jeans.
“I cannot believe you thought a double date watching a gross horror movie was a good idea.” Trevor’s face flared in anger as we all snapped our necks towards Laura and the boys almost yelled over each other.
“This is not a fucking double date –“
“-God no, she’s just Trevor’s sister.” Eddie shook his head with a look of – what I could only describe as disgust – clouding his face.
Just Trevor’s sister
The rush of air that was knocked from my chest was quiet, but he heard it. Eddie’s face was cold and devoid of any emotion, hiding whatever thoughts burned behind those pretty dark eyes as hurt flared in my face. That hurt quickly spiralled in anger as Trevor laughed like Laura had told the funniest joke in existence and she glanced between us in confusion.
I was only ever going to be the little sister. Nothing more, nothing less. Never my own person. The cold gut wrenching feeling of being used washed over me as everyone’s eyes settled on me.
Eddie had been right. He knew what guys wanted, what all guys wanted.
What he wanted.
My pathetically pining heart that had chased him for the last decade, cracked as I struggled with the realisation.
It didn’t matter how much I tried to fight and prove myself against the ‘innocent’ label they’d branded me with, because Eddie wasn’t going to feel anything genuine for me, he was just going to treat me like his little play thing.
I was such a fucking idiot
That knowledge made the corner of my vision turn red as my nails bit into my palms, the words falling from me without fear or hesitation.
“You know what Laura? I completely agree with you, it is a stupid idea. And I’m really glad that the guy that asked me to go out this weekend, doesn’t think I’d enjoy watching a horror movie under a blanket for a first date.” I spat the words at the shocked face of my brother and the stone cold, barely concealed simmering rage of Eddie’s. His eyes followed me as I launched myself from the couch, kicking his feet out of the way as I sped from the room before my building tears could fall.
The cold press wasn’t helping to dim the puffiness around both of my eyes, I slammed the wet cloth against the sink as I sighed and leant over it, glaring at my reflection in the mirror. My scream mutilated in my throat as I clutched my chest and spun around, cowering against the vanity as the pair of reflective eyes that scared me, emerged from the darkness.
Eddie hovered in the doorway with a grim expression, anger tightening the corner of his mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“You’ve been crying.” His voice didn’t reveal anything as he pointed out the obvious.
“Clearly, genius.” I swallowed as my eyes roamed over his bare chest, flitting away as he shifted and his plaid pyjama pants dipped lower against his v-line.
“What’s wrong?” His jaw clenched as he stumbled over the question, his eyes flaring with the answer he knew was coming.
“Why would you bother asking me that? I’m just Trevor’s little, innocent, stupid sister.” For the first time real anger flowed between us, pure undiluted rage as I stood my ground, copying his stance as I cocked a brow at him, daring him to deny the truth.
“Untouchable. Remember?” My hushed yell was still far too loud in the quiet house, cutting through the darkness as something burned in Eddie’s eyes and tears threatened to make a reappearance in mine.
“I never said you were stupid.” His face blazed with his own anger now as he took a few steps towards me. I backed into the few inches of space I still had behind me, needing to stay away from him to keep my head clear.
Eddie muttered my name as my eyes closed on their own, squeezing shut tighter and his rough, cold hands cradled my face.
“Open your eyes.” He demanded, pressing his hold on me as I shook my head. They flew open in shock and widened as Eddie’s chest pressed against mine, feeling it expand as he sucked in a deep breath and tilted his face towards me.
He was so close it was hard to look up at him, his lips moved closer to me as he whispered his question, the words vibrating through both of our bodies as he pressed me to him.
“What do you want?” It was barely a sigh, sending my mind blank as the minty smell of him washed over me. Eddie’s lashes brushed his cheeks as they focused on my quivering lips, patiently waiting for an answer that I couldn’t comprehend.
I caved
I couldn’t resist him
Even if he only wanted what every guy wanted
“You.” I didn’t say it, I just mouthed the word because Eddie’s dark stare had stolen the power of speech from me.
“Say it again. Louder.” His jaw flexed as our shaky breaths mingled, our lips moving closer together as his loose hair brushed past my collar bones. He paused, just as his bottom lip caressed mine and my knees gave out.
Eddie’s arm slid around my waist to keep me upright and the corner of his mouth twitched as he tried to force his smirk away.
“Say it.”
“You.” Eddie’s lips encased mine.
His heat flooded through me as they moved in a way that I’d only ever read about in my romance novels. They were softer than his hair looked, firm but they moved perfectly in sync with mine. God, the taste of him was more than I could have imagined, somehow a perfect mix of his cologne and weed and cigarettes and our peppermint mouthwash.
He was everywhere, his hands touching each bare patch of skin that I needed him to as I gave in completely, twisting my hands in his hair to pull him closer to me as I revelled in finally having our first kiss, never wanting to feel the cold air between our lips again.
Eddie groaned in response to my own one that tumbled from my lips, gripping the fabric of my shorts at my hip until I was afraid he was going to tear it away, his free hand trapped the side of my face, tilting my head up so he could attack my neck.
Each gentle bite followed by a kiss elected a desperate moan from me, flowing faster from me before I could stop them, almost like Eddie was chasing after them and finding pleasure in each sound he forced from me. My head rested back against the mirror with a sigh as his lips traced across my collar bone, teasing at the base of my neck as his hand brushed past the side of my breast, seeming almost like an accident until I spotted the smirk on Eddie’s face.
His hand tightened behind my ear and the nape of my neck as our eyes met, Eddie rose to his full height as an electric bolt shot through me from where our bare skin touched, straight to between my legs.
A tremor of cold reality washed over as his hand moved to trace the outline of my lips and I remembered where his fingers had been only a couple of hours ago. His face dropped as I gasped and lightly shoved at his shoulders, slipping out of his grip as I pulled up the strap of my shirt that Eddie had sneakily slipped off my shoulder.
“Don’t do this. Please, if you don’t care about me, don’t act like you do. I’m not some whore you can have when you want.” I couldn’t hold his stare as my breath quivered from me, sounding embarrassingly like I was going to cry as Eddie gripped the sides of the vanity beside me and leaned over it, forcing me to bow back against it and look up at him.
His jaw was clenched and his eyes flashed dangerously, Eddie ran his tongue along his bottom lip as his stare flicked between mine, trying to read something in them as his brows creased angrily.
“You have no idea how much I fucking care about you.”
I refused to believe him
“Like a sister.” I mumbled.
Heat flashed up my arm as Eddie wrenched it away from his chest, pressing my fingers against his hard length hidden beneath his pants. I glanced up at him as he let out a hollow sigh, smiling without humour as he shook his head.
“I haven’t stopped being hard since you decided to hide under that fucking table. I haven’t been able to stop thinking you. You have no idea-.” Eddie tilted his forehead until it was pressing against mine, letting his eyes fall shut as he loosened his grip around my wrist.
I kept my hand pressed against him, my cheeks blushing as I waited.
“-what you do to me. Fucks sake you pretty, silly girl. I tried to stay away because I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you. Look what happened tonight, I thought I could handle seeing you but I fucking can’tstay away from you. I love Trevor like a brother, and because of that, you’re off limits.” Eddie dropped his grip completely and took a step back, shaking his head to clear it as he stared up at the ceiling, clenching his fists together before he yanked them through his hair roughly.
Eddie glanced back down at me with a sad smile as I froze, soaking up every syllable.
“Like a sister.” He mocked me. “You’ve got no idea how hard it is not to corrupt you. I was able to stay away from you for ten years, but you just had to prove how bad you actually are didn’t you?” Eddie shook his head again, his hand squeezing my cheeks until my lips mushed together.
“Not so innocent, am I?” White, hot pleasure cut through me. I’d won
Eddie groaned and threw his head back, muttering the word Succubus
“The things I want to do to you, what I dream about doing, what I need to do to you. You don’t do that to a sister.” Eddie took a few more steps back, like he needed the space between us as a foreign heat spurred me across the tiles of the bathroom a couple of paces.
“Like what?” I demanded, excitement urging me on as the walls between my legs fluttered at his words.
“That’s not the sort of thing I should tell someone like you.” Eddie wrapped his hands around my wrists to pull them away as I reached up to cup his face, pinning them between us as he smirked at the pout on my lips.
“Someone like me?” I scowled.
“Virgin.” Eddie grinned widely, whispering the word like he was embarrassed.
“How would you know.” I shot back, flinching away from him.
“Because from the first day I met you, I haven’t taken my eyes off you. Trust me, I would know if you weren’t one anymore.” Eddie’s eyes flashed a warning in them as his face coloured, his chest heaving as he ran his gaze over my body.
“Show me.”
“What?” I enjoyed catching him off guard for a split second before I pushed forward, refusing to lose my false sense of confidence.
“Show me… what you want to do to me.” My voice sounded heavy with lust even to my own ears, a blush creeping up my neck as Eddie halted.
Eddie’s hands fell to my hips as he pushed me back against the counter, kicking the bathroom door shut with his heel as he lifted me onto the counter behind us, sliding my legs apart as he moved between them.
“That’s it. Keep those pretty eyes on me.” My breaths were shallow as Eddie dipped against my chest, biting at my breasts beneath the thin fabric of my shirt as he moved across my stomach, his hands tracing the trails of fire that his mouth left behind.
My head pressed back against the cold surface of the mirror as I knotted my hands in Eddie’s hair, holding onto him to keep me on earth as his face pressed against my slit covered by my pyjama shorts.
I wasn’t wearing panties and Eddie knew that. His eyes glinted up at me as I peeked down, shutting my eyes and throwing my head to the side as he pressed his nose against me and rubbed it against my swollen clit, laughing deeply as I trembled and hooked my legs around his back to trap him against me. Eddie pushed my thighs up further until they were resting on his shoulders and I was sitting half off the vanity, my pelvis angled perfectly towards him as he looked at me like I was edible.
“So goddamn corruptible.” Whatever snarky response I might have had, died on my lips as Eddie devoured me like a mad man. His lips latched around my clit as he tugged slightly, grinning into my thigh as a loud moan slid out of my chest. He squeezed my legs and shushed me before he brought his tongue to my puffy lips drenched in my own arousal and his saliva, spreading the mixture around and burying his face in it as I twisted beneath him and tugged his hair up towards me, begging for him to suck on my clit again as I whimpered.
“Please Eddie please.” I arched away from the mirror as I reached up to cup my own breasts, surprising myself as I pinched and twisted my hard nipples until I was crying out from both the pain and the laps of pleasure Eddie’s tongue was erecting from me.
“Uhh I’m fucking powerless if you beg.” He rolled his eyes as he moved higher on his knees, digging his fingers into the tops of my thighs as his teeth dragged along my throbbing bud, each tug from his mouth made my legs ache to snap shut and trap him there forever.
The mirror steamed up as heat billowed around us, a lusty concoction of my moans and Eddie’s grunts and the erotic sounds of his tongue on my pussy was enough to suffocate us both.
Something tightened just below my stomach, forcing my eyes shut as my legs twitched and I froze, almost seizing as Eddie’s tongue circled around my clit as his longest finger slid inside of my drenched hole easily, almost like he recognised some unseen cue to go faster.
His free hand that wasn’t working between my legs shot up to shove his fingers in my mouth so that my gag muted my scream, coating my tongue in the sticky residue that his hand had fucked out of me.
It all happened at once, something invisible broke inside of me and my legs snapped shut against the sides of Eddie’s face, my crossed ankles digging into the middle of his back as I arched up off the mirror, ripping his hair from the roots as my lips locked around a silent scream and choked on his hand.
Waves of immense pleasure, nothing like I had ever been able to elicit out of my body myself, destroyed my composure. This feeling came deep from within my soul, no, Hell.
It had to come from Hell because nothing could so devilishly intoxicating, I would ruin my soul searching for this feeling for the rest of the time.
As quickly as it came, it was over. I slumped against the vanity as I melted, my eyes ringing and blocking out Eddie’s question as he rose to his feet, grinning as he wiped the wetness from his chin and wrapped his hand around my ass, crushing me to him as he dipped his head down to me.
“You still think I’m innocent?” My hypothetical question came out groggy, like I was drunk as I clasped my fingers around the back of his neck. I couldn’t help the stupid grin on my face as I shivered, unable to block out the tingling between my thighs as my internal walls fluttered around nothing, begging for something.
“You just came on my face, what do you think?” His grin was twice as wide as his lips moved to mine.
“Yo Eddie, is that you in there?” Eddie’s face froze inches from mine as Trevor’s voice rung out from the hallway, his heavy footsteps thudding against the carpet runner as he headed towards the bathroom.
“Uh yeah man, just taking a piss.” I jumped as my brother’s fist pounded down against the wooden door, flinching as it rattled on its hinges. Eddie’s face was an exact image of fear the same as mine, as we tensed in each other’s arms.
“Well I’m gonna smoke if you wanna come.” There was a pause as Eddie’s eyes snapped shut and he pinched the bridge of his nose, I could see his thoughts ticking over as my head swam, my thoughts turning foggy from the breath I refused to let go off.
I tightened my hold around his shoulders as Eddie’s hands gripped my sides, lifting me off the bench and placing me with a feather light touch next to where the door would swing back on. His hand wrapped around my mouth as he turned towards the closed doorway.
“I’m going to tell him.” His words were barely more than a whisper as resolve hardened in his eyes, speaking more to himself than me as my face narrowed in shock.
“Yeah, I’ll be out in a sec.” Eddie’s eyes flashed back to mine as his hand dropped to my throat, not tight enough to hurt but he squeezed it until my core throbbed for him again. Eddie mashed his lips to mine, wiping the smile off my face as his free hand cradled the curve of my cheek softly, he pulled away only to whisper in my ear.
“You’re not going on that date this weekend.” Eddie’s smirk disappeared from my shocked glance as he placed a soft kiss at the side of my neck, leaving me alone with my shiver as cold air replaced his hold and he tugged the door open, wide enough to slip through but still hiding me and my reflection, from view.
“You been jerking off in there or something?” I pressed both hands against my mouth as my knees shook, my brothers voice barely audible over the roaring in my ears.
“Yeah, couldn’t help myself.” There was a tinge of nerves and annoyance in his voice that Trevor didn’t pick up on, drowning in his forced laugh and my brothers boisterous one.
“You need a girl man.” It sounded like Trevor slapped Eddie on the shoulder and I glanced up in the mirror.
Eddie’s pained and honest stare met mine in the reflection as he glanced over his shoulder, a war raging in his face as he pulled the door closed behind him.
“Believe me, I’m trying.”
Also readers - if anyone’s looking for a slow burn Eddie x enemies to lovers, check out my Opposite Ends series (almost completed)
Post summary | You’ve been in love with Eddie since you can remember. When he refuses to see you as anything except for his best friends, untouchable, innocent, little sister, you work out a way to get him to look at you differently.
What to expect | Established friendship, mutual pining, jealous Eddie, lots of tension - no use of y/n
Post Warnings | Drug use, shotgunning, M oral, F masturbation, voyeurism, facial, public sex, rough sex
Word count | 5.3 K
Authors Note | I’d really like to do a part 2 | but let me know what y’all think about this one first ;)
As always, any & all comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Love, P. x 🌿
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I’d always seen Eddie. Considering he’d been joined at the hip with Trevor since middle school when he’d made fun of Eddie’s buzz cut. The two were inseparable, always up to no good. If you seen one you knew the other wasn’t far. Since Trevor and I shared DNA, Eddie was around just as much as I was, taking up a segment of our life and blending in seamlessly like he belonged there.
Ten years I’d catch the bus home with Eddie and my older brother, avoiding their teasing while they spread across the entire lounge room floor as they devoured the pantry of snacks and planned out their DnD campaigns. Ten years I’d been the butt of their cruel jokes. Ten years I’d been silently in love with Eddie.
And for ten years, Eddie had ignored me like I was invisible. Eddie had never seen me.
I glanced up from my book as a piece of popcorn bounced off my chest and landed on the open page, covering the rest of the line I was currently reading.
“Do you mind?” I snapped through gritted teeth, brushing my shirt as I glared up through my lashes.
“Not at all. Get us another drink.” My brother rolled over on his back as he grinned at me, holding a crumpled piece of paper above his face that contained a list of his new ideas for DnD characters.
Eddie’s singular laugh burst onto the scene, and I reluctantly glanced up at him, dropping my stare almost instantly as a deep blush filled my cheeks. He smirked at me as he popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth, watching me as I slammed the book shut and stood up from the couch.
“Get it your damn self.” I snapped, purposely treading on my brothers arm as I stepped over him.
Eddie’s stare, hard to ignore, followed me as I made my way to the kitchen. The water churned angrily inside of the glass as I flicked the sink tap on angrily and filled it to the brim. As I spun around the drink almost slipped through my fingers, Eddie was leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed tightly across his chest as his dark eyes appraised me.
“You good kid?” My heart sunk into my ass at his words.
Kid
“I’m fine.” My misplaced frustration seeped through my tone, Eddie’s brows raised slightly at my rudeness before Trevor burst through through door, shoving him out of the way and breaking our eye contact.
“Ignore her man, she’s been in a mood ever since she started dating that freshman.” My fingers tightened around the slippery glass as my eyes shot to Eddie’s face, my own colouring in embarrassment as his features turned guarded, hiding his reaction as he picked at his cuticles.
I snatched the bag of chips off the counter that my brother reached for, glaring daggers at him, interrupting Eddie as we spoke at the same time.
“Oh yeah?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
I cleared my throat as they both shared a look followed by loud, teasing bouts of laughter.
“He’s not, he’s just my partner on one of our assignments. And-“ I spoke louder as Trevor wagged his brows suggestively at me and Eddie covered his smirk with his hand.
“He’s actually pretty cool, I think you’d like him, he’s into DnD.” I let my bait hang in the air as I dumped the rest of the contents of my glass down the sink, letting it clack against the sides loudly.
I turned back slowly to watch Trevor let a low, appreciative whistle through his teeth, his mind ticking over my words as I watched Eddie closely. He was far too focused on a hangnail as his jaw clenched, sucking against his teeth.
“What d’ya think bro?” Trevor’s voice was pathetically whiny, pining for Eddie’s approval without shame.
Although his slightly annoyed face betrayed his words, Eddie shrugged, dropping his arms to cross his chest as he stared me down, running his gaze slowly over me as I shuddered, chancing a quick glance at my brother to see if he noticed.
“If she says the kids alright, we can give him a go. She has incredible taste after all.”
Eddie’s lips drew out the S in the third last word, making my thighs twitch behind my loose mini skirt as he smirked at my brother, who was blissfully unaware of my dangerous thoughts as he sneakily snatched the bag of snacks from my trembling fingers.
“If he’s anything like her, he’s super fucking innocent. And I know how you love to corrupt your innocent freshman with DnD.” My brothers half hearted wink didn’t even begin to convey the truth behind his words, their possible different meaning to Eddie had my head swimming dangerously, the sea of blackness lapping at my concentration.
“I don’t agree on a lot of things with you bro, but when it comes to that type of innocence… I can’t resist absolute corruption.” Eddie’s dark eyes fixated on me as his wide smile crinkled his eyes. I was greatful for the loud crunching as Trevor tipped the bag of food back against his mouth, tilting his head back as he shook the bag, because I was sure that actual steam was blowing out of my ears and a slight dripping was falling from between my thighs.
“Come on, let’s head out.” Trevor’s spat through an open mouth full of food as he tossed the packet into the bin and walked between us, cutting off my eyeline of Eddie as he smacked his chest and swiped up his car keys. I swallowed my disgust over my brothers general lack of hygiene as he disappeared around the corner, rolling my eyes as I turned my back on both of their vulgar insults over who was driving.
The warning tingle that shot up my spine, made me spin back around as I bumped back against the sink, watching Eddie lean away from the door frame to cross the tiled kitchen floor between us in three long strides.
His eyes flickered to the darkened hallway like he was making sure that my brother was still out of sight as he stood toe to toe with me, our embarrassing height difference towered over me as his face broke into a cocky half grin.
My breathing faltered as his hand raised towards me, gently brushing against my thin sweater in the space between my breast and my collar bone. My heart squeezed painfully as his grin faded off into a small, knowing smile as I began to tremble.
“Popcorn.” His scoff contained a light airy laugh as he glanced above my head and brushed away the few crumbs that clung the static fabric of my shirt.
My chest throbbed in a painful release as Eddie stalked away, shrugging on his leather jacket as my knees struggled to keep me upright.
Asshole
I ran my tongue across my lips as I tried to keep my thoughts in check, squishing down the vain fantasy of hope that reared it’s ugly head, focusing on the ticking hands of the clock above the kitchen cabinets.
Eddie’s small touches meant nothing, his lingering stares only felt heavy and intrusive because I was imagining it. Eddie was only ever going to be an elderly brother figure to me and I needed to learn to accept that. Giving myself a reality check to save myself from further heart break.
I swallowed the rock that sat at the back of my throat as my vision came into focus again.
“Hey! Where are you going? Moms gonna be here with dinner soon.” I chased after the boys as they hesitated at the front door, staring back at me with frustration as I hindered their nightly pursuits.
“The hideout.” Trevor shook his head at me like I was stupid for even asking, widening his eyes sarcastically as he pulled the door wider.
Eddie stared at me with a blank expression, either trying very hard to control his reaction or just genuinely not having one as he rolled a loose ring across the tops of his knuckles.
“Ed’s here has a blonde hottie waiting for him.” My brother smacked his chest with his fist lightly, following up his hurtful statement with a string of obscene noises and hip movements.
I tried and failed to keep my face straight as my heart smashed into my stomach, twisting and splintering like broken glass as Eddie didn’t spare me another glance, following Trevor down the scarcely lit driveway.
His car tore off into the empty street as they sped away to whatever pleasures awaited them at the dingy bar, leaving me alone and heartbroken as I let the front door swing closed slowly.
___________________________________
“I think it’s a good idea.” I let the stream of smoke billow through my nose as I flicked the ash away from the tip of my joint, leaning back against the red brick of the gym, hidden by other nosy students and prying teachers alike.
Sean, the infamous genius freshman that was taking senior classes, liked playing DnD and was my alleged boyfriend, watched me from his place beside me, his beady eyes following my every movement as he tried to mimic my stance.
I held out the joint in an offering, raising my eye brows as he hesitated and then shook his head, glancing up at me from the few inch height difference between us.
“I’ve got a test, probably be better if I was sober.” His dorky face screwed up and I turned away to hide my laughter, watching the sophomore gym class run their tenth, hellish lap around the field.
I nodded without looking as he muttered a goodbye, taking a deep drag as my eyes squinted shut. The air rushed through my teeth as a heavy ‘umph’ resounded through the air as his sharp cry echoed around us.
Sean was scrawled across the concrete, fresh tears springing to his eyes from the raw scrape marks across his palms and knees. Eddie stepped from around the corner and roughly hauled him to his feet, practically beating him into the ground as he wiped grey clouds of dirt from his shoulders.
“Better be more careful there kid.” Eddie clicked his teeth as my arm dropped, nerves fluttering in my stomach as I hid the joint against my side.
It was no use, the smell had probably drawn him out in the first place.
My eyes flickered between the vastly different boys, Eddie’s dark and hulking form, with a mean smirk plastered across his face, towered over Seans’ quivering one. A shock ran through me as I watched the unmistakable signs of fear flash across the younger man’s face, he nodded and tried not to let Eddie’s strength make his knees buckle as he continued to swipe at Sean’s arms, angrily brushing away dirt that was no longer there.
He shot me a frightened look as I couldn’t help the slight amusement spread across my face, my inhibitions locked away from the spike of weed I’d inhaled, I successfully bit back my laugh as I realised he was afraid of Eddie. Sometimes it was hard to remember what the rest of the world saw him as, because Eddie had my knees shaking and my face blushing for entirely different reasons.
Sensing no help from me, Sean tried to side step around Eddie as his eyes fell to his Hellfire shirt under his leather jacket, trembling like a mouse as Eddie blocked him.
“Not so fast, kid. Who are you?” Eddie’s menacing smile slowly dropped from his face as he cocked his head, loosing patience as Sean stuttered over his own name.
I scoffed and pushed off from the wall, turning to face him with my own smug smirk as I shook my head at Eddie’s antics.
“This is the one I told you and Trevor about. This is Sean.” His eyes squeezed shut like he was upset about me naming him, like he’d hoped he could remain unnoticed as long as he stayed silent.
Eddie had ignored me thus far, but his dark stare slid past Sean’s to meet mine over his head, something flashing in his eyes as they softened and his jaw hardened.
“Right.” He stood to the side and clapped his shoulder, making him half bow over as his face screwed up in pain. “Well, maybe I’ll see you at our club sometime, I’ll take good care of ya.” Eddie winked and slapped him on the back again, half propelling him down the footpath and almost out of my sight.
The brittle tension disappeared along with Sean as Eddie turned back to me, pulling a cigarette from his jacket pocket, placing it between his teeth as he flicked his lighter and shook his head at me over the billowing smoke.
I grinned freely as I purposely took a long hit of my dwindling joint, staring back at him boldly as I blew the cloud of haze in his direction.
We puffed in a silence for a moment before I took too deep of a hit and coughed hard, my chest spluttering as my eyes watered.
He clicked tongue as he pursed his lips, barking a sharp snap of laughter as I waved the smoke away that burst through my lungs.
“Exactly why you shouldn’t smoke.” He grinned through his hypocrisy.
“Oh please, don’t act like you’re not the one who taught me this.” I held it out between us accusingly, relishing in the easy smiles shared between us. My heart clenched unexpectedly as I wished for it to always be this easy, that our friendship didn’t have to be blackened by my unrequited feelings, obsession was probably a better word.
His own face turned serious as we both lost our grins, exhaling through his teeth as a deep sigh rushed from his chest. His eyes, practically black in the shadows, had me cowering against the wall as he glared at me.
“You should stay away from him.” His words were a fire hot, ice pick through my skin as I tried to read their meaning in his face. He kept his usual half snarky half empty mask in place, I took a distracted drag for something to do other than get lost in my thoughts of looking at him.
“Sean? He’s harmless.” I peered back at Eddie questioningly, blushing as he scoffed and sent me a derivative scowl.
“He’s a guy.”
“And?”
“And I know what guys want.” He flicked the butt of his smoke away as he spun around to face me, burying his hands in his pockets as he waited for me to catch onto his meaning.
I wasn’t sure what made me say it, or how I possibly got the words out without caving like the embarrassed coward I was.
“What do you want?”
Eddie’s face flashed with something new, he only hesitated for a minute as his eyes dropped to something beside me and he stalked across the space between us. I backed off quickly, bumping against the rough brick as he pinned me against it.
I trembled as Eddie hand snaked around my throat, his thumb pressing into my jaw so that my head was tilted back and I couldn’t avoid his dark eyes that trapped mine. I couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past my lips, Eddie’s eyes dropped to them, intrigued by the sound. My throat stuck as my thoughts ran wild, wanting to cry from the confusion and pleasure of feeling Eddie’s hand finally somehow wrapped around me.
My hands clenched around empty air as Eddie stole the joint from between my fingers, he brought it between us, turning his head to the side, but keeping his eyes on mine as he took a deep inhale. The paper burned all the way down to the roach in a blaze, ash dropping dangerously as he flicked it away and tensed his fingers around the nape of my neck.
His strong hand bowed me against him as his thumb moved up against my chin, pulling it down roughly as he forced my lips apart.
I shook like a leaf as Eddie moved his face towards mine, with slow movements like a predator. He angled his jaw to line up with me, leaving barely any space between our open mouths as he blew the smoke into mine. My eyes rolled back into my head as I caved, I could practically taste him, almost feel the softness of his lips as my knees buckled, Eddie’s tight grip became the only thing holding me up. His forehead leant forward to touch mine as he breathed the last swirl of the smoke into me, snapping his eyes shut as his jaw flexed.
“You’re Trevor’s sister.” It was a fact he grunted through clenched teeth.
“I am.” My hands traced up carefully to hold onto the arm he still had wrapped around my neck.
“Untouchable.” I didn’t agree.
“So fucking innocent.” Eddie’s practically spat the words as his eyes wrenched open in anger and he dropped his hold on me, slamming his fist down against the raw brick beside me as he spurned away, the outline of the Dio patch on his jacket growing smaller as he left me alone gasping against the side of the building.
Tears sprung to my eyes over his insult of being innocent, wanting to follow him and prove in every single way how wrong he was, hating him for even thinking it. But I was paralysed, sliding down the wall into a crouch, wondering what the fuck that was and if it actually just happened.
___________________________________
Stupid
That’s what this was, pure idiocy. I fumed with anger towards Eddie’s juvenile opinion of me, and hated Trevor even more for probably being the reason behind it.
I wanted to punish them both, get back at them in a way that would at least match, if not top, the anguish and hurt I was feeling.
Trashing their beloved Hellfire room was the best thing I could think off, though that might have been taking things too far and definitely wasn’t going to help my immature image. My false confidence spurred on by misplaced frustration, faltered as I stood beside the wooden table top in the drama room, tracing my fingers along the edge as I made my way to the throne at the end of it.
I clasped the backing of it, pretending that it was his shoulders I was holding as I pictured myself standing by his side while he was in his element. Imagining how good I would look perched on his lap while he mounted his throne. He could shotgun me again, have his way with me and do whatever he wanted to me on this table.
I twisted my fingers in anger, wishing to high heaven that Eddie could see me for what I actually was, torturing myself as I fantasised about Trevor being okay with the idea of the two of us, and that he wouldn’t stand in our way.
I snorted mockingly at myself as I let my hand drop, shaking my head because all of that didn’t matter unless Eddie liked me back, and he definitely didn’t.
Whatever happened between us this afternoon didn’t wipe away the past ten years of him treating me like an extension of Trevor, just an extra sibling to pick on when he wasn’t rising to Eddie’s teasing.
I pulled my bag tighter against my shoulders as I headed for the door, but I froze as loud bangs and shouts of boyish laughter echoed down the hallway.
Shit.
They were early, and even though I’d left the room exactly as I’d found it, Trevor would dip it if he found me in here. ‘Ruining his safe space and invading his territory’ as he’d called it.
I backed off, my head swinging wildly as I glanced around for some form of escape. It was too late, their heavy footsteps thundered towards the door as I dived under the table, my skirt brushing my sneakers as I huddled on my knees to the middle off it, praying that I was hidden.
My stomach shrunk as my name fell from my brothers lips, shaking as I waited for him to expose my position and embarrass me in front of their entire club. But it was followed by a laugh and the sound of flesh smacking flesh. A familiar pair of glasses tumbled to the floor and I had to bite back a whimper as Sean’s arm shot down to grab them, mere feet from where I was crouched.
“Yeah she’s my sister, she told us about you and I figured we needed some new players.” I could practically hear his chest puffing out as he tried to impress that he was important. Six chairs scraped against the floor as they pulled back and the knees of Eddie’s club scooted in closer to me, pressing in on all sides as I stopped breathing.
Laughter filled the small room and the the table top shivered as someone slammed their hands down on it, sending specks of dirt and dust to flutter onto my hair. Sweat built up between my thighs pressed against my calves as the panic set in, the boys were reaching into their bags, pulling out game equipment as they set up for one of their campaigns.
I was going to be here for hours.
The main door swung open again, and I watched the beaten, once white, Reebok sneakers make their way towards the end of the table where I sat. The largest chair that Eddie deemed as his “throne”, scraped back louder than the others as he folded himself into it. My face blazed hot as he man spread, widening his knees until his crotch, level with my face, was agonisingly obvious like it had its own beacon.
I wanted to slap myself for the perverted thoughts that filled my mind, that made my panties dampen between my thighs and my arms shake.
Fucking Jesus
Eddie rolled his hips towards me as he readjusted himself, his ring clad hand resting lighting on his knee as his finger traced slight circles along the fabric. My brother voice shot out on my left, reminding me where I was as I learned away from someone’s outstretched leg.
“Where were you?”
“Just seshing.” If I hadn’t of known him so well, I would have missed the slight grin in his tone, like he knew a secret the rest of them didn’t. My eyes travelled over his shaking knee as his hand flexed, wondering if he was talking about me. I’d come straight here after he’d left me outside of the gym, surely he had aswell?
“Anyone hot?” Gross
“Smoking. But not your type.” Eddie’s hand splayed against his thigh, running up the length of it as my middle clenched at the sight and his words sent my mind blank.
“Looks like everyone’s loved up Eds. Even little Sean here has a thing for my sister.” I wanted to punch Trevor, maybe kick him hard under the table under the pretence of someone else, except then someone might look under the table and I couldn’t imagine a worse situation to be caught in.
Eddie’s knuckles turned white as his hand clenched into a first, he voice was loaded with so much threat I was surprised that Sean didn’t run from the room.
“We already discussed this.” He tsked, his shirt riding up his stomach a little as he leant forward over the table.
“She’s too innocent to have a boyfriend.” His voice was low and thick, and the loud bout of laughter it earned from the table made my dig my nails into my palm, hating him more than ever in that moment.
Trevors laughed lasted the longest, brushing off Eddie’s threat as over bearing brotherly love as he pulled out the set up for their game and began.
Enough was enough.
Time to show Eddie how innocent I actually was.
As the entire table erupted in a vicarious debate over their campaign, and Eddie’s voice rang out louder than any of them, I crawled across the floor, leaning forward on my hands and shuffling on my knees as I avoided the mass of sneakers and made my way between Eddie’s legs.
He was still hunched over, blocking the light from shining down on me as I flattened myself on my thighs, my middle pressing against the cold floor as I straddled nothing.
I waited for another loud stream of laughter and raucous banging on the table to press my hands against Eddie’s knees.
He jolted and shot back in his chair from my touch, his little breath of Fuck was drowned out by someone yelling out over being attacked in the game.
His eyes met mine in disbelief as his brows knotted and he gave his head a little shake, I traced my nails across his jeans, moving up his thighs as he ran his tongue across his lips, his dark eyes becoming heavily lidded as they glanced around the table.
A burning within me trickled out across my skin as I explored more of Eddie, running my hands across his lap as I watched his bulge start to strain against his tight jeans, dancing under the hem of his shirt until my fingers brushed his cool belt buckle.
“Eddie!” His eyes tore away from mine as I pulled at his belt, pulling it through the metal clasp, marvelling that he wasn’t stopping me. He was powerless under my touch now, I was going to make him pay for what he’d said, and if he snitched on me now he would be as incriminated as I was. I grinned as I slipped the leather free of his pants.
“HuH? Oh, you’re faced with a fork in the trail, to your left is a darkened path, scarcely lit with a green glow at the end. To your right lays a steep climb with a golden slight blazing at the top. Which do you choose?”
Eddie’s hands shot down to slap mine out of the way, quickly ripping his zipper down to allow me faster access, his free hand moved to twist into my hair as he glanced down with a smirk on his face, gently guiding me towards his crotch as his club cried out in misery that they’d chosen the wrong path.
His tight hold against my head sent a thrill of warm honey down my spine, tingling deep in my pussy as I leant forward, running my tongue along my lips with a smile as I pulled him free from his jeans.
His pretty cock fell over the dark fabric, filling the space between us as I reached for it eagerly. Finally, after years of obsession and fantasies, I finally had thick length red and hard in my hand, twitching as it waited for me. My mouth salivated at the thought as Eddie’s hand pushed harder against the back of my head, begging for me.
It was all the prompting I needed as I leant forward on my knees, my round eyes staring up at his jaw line though my thick lashes, his flaring stare met mine as he chanced a quick look down, his cheeks reddening as he watched me wrap my hand around his base.
He shuddered a little beneath my touch, a drop of liquid trickled from the tip of his dick, and I caught it with my finger to bring to my lips curiously, I let it drop onto the tip of my tongue, the salty taste surprising me. I smirked and looked up to find Eddies eyes trained on my face, watching me warily. A sudden urge came over me, I leant further on my knees, needing to touch more of him, my head brushed hard against the underneath of tabletop, cringing as someone banged on it again. Eddie leant forward to hide me from view as I pressed soft kisses to his v-line, next to his dick, nibbling lightly at the skin as he gasped and jolted in my grip. Looking up at him I let the wetness from my mouth dribble onto his crotch, the liquid flowing down my arm as I stroked him back and forth, never leaving his gaze I slowly brought my lips to his tip. Listening to his uneven breath I let it slide back and forth across my bottom lip before I slid his entire length down my throat.
Eddie’s first clenched above the table as he raised his voice, trying to down out the stifled gags and wet squelches his cock was fucking into my throat.
“I- uh… you’re all down to fourteen hit points, what do you do?” His voice was thick with resistance as I wrapped my lips around his base and slowly dragged up, digging my nails into his knees.
His stare sent a blazing heat through me, the half fucked out look on his face as he glanced down like he couldn’t believe it, it filled me with the surety that I could do this. Splaying my free hand across his abdomen, trailing my sharp fingers across his skin softly, I began stroking him at a constant pace, quickly wrapping my lips around his dick once more and matching the strokes, gagging every once in a while when there was a yell or laugh loud enough to cover it. I shoved my head down until I reached the base where a light brown tuft of pubic hair tickled my forehead, with each bob of my head I swirled my tongue around him, feeling the ridges of the pulsing veins of his cock. His hands knotted themselves in my hair, sending throbs of pleasure throughout my frame, a pooling wetness gathering in my panties. My free hand moved under my skirt, slipping under my thin lacy material to rub fast and rough circles over my clit, picturing it was Eddie’s ring clad fingers as I stared up at his neck, his head thrown back as I listened to the dice roll across the table top and the entire group break into winning cheers. We both took advantage over the thundering, deafening cheers of success as Eddie fucked my face and my own fingers spurned my towards my hot release, as I felt him falter and curl over the table again, I pulled him free from my mouth, replacing it with my hand as I jerked him in long, hard strokes and hung my head back, my tongue pressing against my chin as I waited.
His muted gasps and moans were overpowered by the others congratulations at each other for their defeat, he untangled his hand from my hair as he wrapped his long fingers around my throat, tilting my head back as I took the tip of him into my warm mouth, his salty cum washed over my tongue as more than I thought was possible, shot across my face, streaks of it painted my cheeks and warmed my skin as it dropped across my chin.
Heat flowed between us as his chest heaved and he wiped the corner of my mouth, pressing his thumb into it until my eyes rolled back and the taste of him was dripping down the back of my throat, he brought his hand to his face and sucked on his thumb infront of everyone above us, licking the mixture of his cum and my spit clean from it as he watched me under the table.
“You know what Sean, if you want to date Trevor’s sister, be our guest. Maybe she isn’t as innocent as I thought.”
Eddie glanced down at me through heavy lashes as his face flushed in a fucked out expression, staring at me like he was finally seeing me for the very first time.
___________________________________
Also readers - if anyone’s looking for a slow burn Eddie x enemies to lovers, check out my Opposite Ends series (almost completed)
summary: It’s been a week since that evening in Eddie’s trailer, and things haven’t gone further like you expected them to. That all changes when a movie theater employee hits on you while you’re out with your friends.
wordcount: 3.5k
tags/warnings: fem!sub!reader, softdom!perv!eddie, friends to lovers, smut, degradation (use of whore), use of pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart), jealousy, public sexual acts, fingering (f receiving), hand jobs, no use of y/n
a/n: sorry they don’t go all the way in this one, i just had this idea and really wanted to write it. there will be a part 3!!!
Last weekend you and your best friend crossed a line that you never thought you both would actually be brave enough to cross. He pushed you so close to the edge that you had no choice but to give into your desires, and you’re so glad you did. At least, would be so glad, if Eddie had finally let go of his stupid pride and just asked you to officially be his already. He hasn’t tried to go past first base since that night, which was rather disappointing seeing as you really expected things to heat up even more after such events. You were still asking for little favors from him, and he was still requesting ‘trade offs’ in return, but nothing past making out and a little feeling up over the clothes. It was extremely sexually frustrating, not to mention demoralizing. Insecurity reared its ugly head, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Eddie regretted what you two did together.
summary: Your friendship with Eddie has always been give and take. He drives you somewhere so you make out with him, he pays for lunch so you let him give you a hickey. It had always been over the clothes, until one day he decided to up the ante.
wordcount: 3.4k
tags/warnings: fem!sub!reader, softdom!perv!eddie, friends to lovers, smut, praise kink (good girl), degradation (use of slut & whore), use of pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart), thigh riding, no use of y/n
a/n: this might be a little rushed cause i really wanted to get this out tonight, specifically so that i could say that it’s my BIRTHDAY which means you legally have to say nice things to me. anyway i’m gonna go get drunk with friends now, enjoy!
Most of your friends assume you two are fucking. It’s understandable, given how Eddie speaks to you. Every conversation is an opportunity for innuendo. The two of you live inside your own little world, and what the people outside of that bubble don’t know is that it’s all a game. Every sly comment, wink, brush of the hand, and “trade off” is him daring you to give in. And although he definitely already knows the effect he has on you, if you were to admit how much you want him it would be forfeiting. So your friendship became a game of cat and mouse, always one-upping each other, always teetering on the edge of something more but never really crossing that line.
summary: After Eddie’s van stalls when he tries to leave your party, you invite him to stay the night.
wordcount: 3.7k
tags/warnings: fem!virgin!sub!reader (18+ and a high school graduate), softdom!Eddie, fluff, smut, friends to lovers, praise kink, dacryphilia, teasing, begging, p in v penetration, use of pet names (baby, babygirl, pretty girl, sweetheart, good girl), degradation (use of slut, Eddie calls reader desperate and pathetic… he means it in the most loving way though I swear), no use of y/n
a/n: sorry it took me like a month to post this. i’m what the kids like to call mentally ill.
“I want to make you cum, too,” you proclaim as you slide your hand down his abdomen until you reach his boxers and lightly graze his bulge.
“Don’t worry sweetheart,” he says, taking your chin in his hand and pulling you into a slow kiss. “We’re not done yet. Just letting you have a little breather.”
summary: Your friendship with Eddie has always been give and take. He drives you somewhere so you make out with him, he pays for lunch so you let him give you a hickey. It had always been over the clothes, until one day he decided to up the ante.
wordcount: 3.4k
tags/warnings: fem!sub!reader, softdom!perv!eddie, friends to lovers, smut, praise kink (good girl), degradation (use of slut & whore), use of pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart), thigh riding, no use of y/n
a/n: this might be a little rushed cause i really wanted to get this out tonight, specifically so that i could say that it’s my BIRTHDAY which means you legally have to say nice things to me. anyway i’m gonna go get drunk with friends now, enjoy!
Most of your friends assume you two are fucking. It’s understandable, given how Eddie speaks to you. Every conversation is an opportunity for innuendo. The two of you live inside your own little world, and what the people outside of that bubble don’t know is that it’s all a game. Every sly comment, wink, brush of the hand, and “trade off” is him daring you to give in. And although he definitely already knows the effect he has on you, if you were to admit how much you want him it would be forfeiting. So your friendship became a game of cat and mouse, always one-upping each other, always teetering on the edge of something more but never really crossing that line.
𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 pt. ii ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary: a night of bad choices leads to misery in the following weeks, neither of you managing to get the other out of your mind. teasing, hateful words, and a birthday party lead to another mess you can't be bothered to fix.
cw: 18+ (minors, dni) teacher/student relationship, age gap (21 & 29), corruption!kink (eddie is well aware of what he’s doing), max is readers bestfriend, praise words (good girl) eddie has a kink for being called sir (he can't admit it to himself), bratty!reader (sorta), more angsty touches, fingering & oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, and a hate fuck, they're both down so bad for each other
word count: 9k - part one
The pit in your stomach never fades, only growing larger as the days went on, terrified to face Eddie after the sequences of events that took place, one bad choice leading into another. You didn’t even have the chance to touch him, not really—and it seemed like he was okay with that, like he didn’t want it at all.
You could’ve easily just been another notch on his belt, another depraved and willing woman, falling for the teacher, opening themselves up to the consequences that came with it.
Monday is dreadful as you walk into his classroom, his front turned to the board, writing out something rather furiously, focusing himself on the task in front of him rather than greeting the class like he usually does.
But he doesn’t owe you anything, so why should you care?
It wasn’t like he violated you in the passenger seat of his van—you willing allowed the defilement to happen and you knew you were weak enough to let it happen again, but he seemed stuck on the idea that it was never going to happen again and he could live with himself by just ignoring you and acting like nothing ever happened—his gaze doesn’t even falter as it lands on you, careful hands placing the assignment on his desk.
“I need to see you after class.” His voice is low, eyes connecting with his. They seem darker, less warm than usual.
“Okay.” Your response is meek and quiet, weary of the others around.
And while he rambled through his own lesson, it felt like a personal attack, hands flexing as he talked, arms crossing and uncrossing, or how crudely the front of his slacks tightened over his groin, leaving little to imagination in your own mind—you hadn’t seen it for yourself, but there was no questioning it; he knew what he was doing.
He stops you at his desk on your way down the steps, the strap of your bag held tight in your grip. “Here,” It’s a white sheet of paper, a mountain of text you couldn’t be bothered to read. You shoot him a confused look, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance, “it’s a class transfer paper.”
You could feel the rage flooding your body at the admission, roughly shoving the paper back into his chest.
“Excuse you?” You ask, voice low as the last of the students lingered out the door, “I have every right to take this class.”
“Look, I don’t want to argue—“ Eddie starts, but he’s cut off by the clipped response you throw at him. The door to his class swings close on accident, probably bumped by a passing student—either way, you weren’t holding back.
“Fuck you.” It’s harsh and laced with venom, Eddie’s face twisting up in a mix of annoyance and frustration. “You’re not kicking me out of your class.”
He didn’t feel any better about the ultimatum than you, but it was the right thing to do. He couldn’t live with himself, having you sat across from him in his own classroom, much like the rest of his students—but know exactly what you sound like when you fall apart, all by his own bidding. He had to fix this while he still had the chance, even if he was battling every doubt in his body that told him not to.
“It’s not personal—I just don’t want this getting out of hand.”
“That’s not how this works,” You spit at him, fingering wagging between the both of you, “there is no this, to be clear—don’t you remember what you said?”
“That’s not why I’m—“
“No, shut up.” You cut him off once more, beyond the point of respect. Eddie’s shirt flexed against his chest as he shoved his hands into his pockets, letting the painful assent of insults rain down on him. “You’re the one that crossed that line—not me. And if you’re bothered, get over it—you’re an adult, aren’t you?”
Yes, he was. An adult in a position of authority over someone who he so desperately wanted to take over his desk, the back of his van, literally anywhere you would let him. But, none of that was possible.
He allowed himself the small taste he craved, it was enough.
“Would you just listen to me?” Eddie pleads, voice tight and stressed as he speaks.
“You didn’t even bother to consider how I would feel, Eddie.” You reply, speaking his name out into the empty room. He tenses, hand flying over your mouth abruptly.
You realize how risky it was, speaking so openly. There’s a small tinge of regret and a look of apology as you push his hand away, hating the way his touch lingers against your fingertips. “I’m not transferring—I have no problem ignoring you, if that’s what you want. But, you’re not going to fuck with my classes.”
Eddie knows there’s no getting through, no forcing you out of his class or his life, and if you could ignore it all, why couldn’t he?
“You can speak now.” You tell him, feeling satiated by how hard he took your words, seemingly backed into a corner.
“I don’t think you’d listen anyways.” And it doesn’t come off harsh, at least you don’t take it that way. It’s factual, you could genuinely care less. The anger had dissipated slightly, but it was still brimming, begging to spoil over if he made one wrong move.
It was a shame how easily it turned him on—which was proving his point exactly, he couldn’t stand to be around you like this.
“Probably not.” You agree, watching the crisp sheet of paper crumple in his hands, but it’s really not enough.
You pluck the paper from his grip, ripping it in half, turning it once, then ripping it again. It sent the message you wanted to be received.
Fuck his ultimatum.
“Are we done here?” You ask lightly, torn pieces floating to the trash as you release them.
“Uh—yeah,” Eddie replies quietly. He seems deflated at the failed attempt, “we’re done.”
He watches you leave wordlessly, wondering how badly he fucked himself over now.
—
“There’s no way,” Max argues, twisting the towel in her long fiery, wet hair, “Eddie isn’t like that.”
“What? Rude?” You ask, legs crossed as you reclined back on your tiny twin bed tucked in the corner of your shared dorm room. “I take back what I said the other day—he’s an asshole.”
“You didn’t even tell me what happened,” Max points out, eyes staring back expectantly, “—just that something did and then you did that thing where you go quiet and pretend I’m not seven feet away from you every night.”
The silence drags, curling in on yourself as Max stares you down.
“Was it that bad?” Max asks softly, tossing the towel into your shared laundry basket before timidly stepping your way, squeezing herself on the bed beside you. “Did he hurt you?”
You shake your head in amusement, not that you knew Eddie well, but he didn’t seem to hold that type of anger or resentment toward most people.
“I have no problem burying a body with you, you know that.”
“Oh my god, Max—it’s fine.” You insist, her eyes still watching you intently, nothing but absolute honesty shining through her features.
“So you had sex and then he asks you to transfer from his class?” She assumes, trying to piece it all together.
“We didn’t even have sex.” You admit, the words sticking to your tongue in a weird way, leaving a taste in your mouth that you couldn’t describe. “I’ve just never—look, it’s not a big deal. I’m just annoyed.”
“Annoyed because you like him? Or annoyed because he tried to kick you out of his class?”
It was a fair point and you couldn’t deny the sentiment you shared for both.
“You’re so predictable.” Max laughs, pushing herself from the bed and toward her own, digging through her pile of papers scattered over her unmade bed. “Anyways, here—“
It’s a card, covered in felt cartoon balloons and plastered with ones. It was an invitation to a birthday party—Nancy had told you about it, you vaguely remembered.
“Steve really wants you to go,” Max pushes at the subject gently, “But, Eddie’s probably going to be there—“
“I’m still going,” You assure her, “He can get over it.”
Max smiles wide, glad to have you back to your full unashamed self.
“Remember, I’m always a call and a shovel away.”
—
Class is dreadful to say the least. Eddie is so painfully bothered by your presence that it rubs off on you, letting it slip through your expression and remarks in class, more than you liked.
There’s a heated debate going on, about cadence and how the pace of a song can affect someone’s mood or anxiety and it’s flurry of words, people trying to interrupt every chance they could, and it’s mostly harmless until you finally decide to speak up against the crowd, interrupting Eddie’s response—and he really doesn’t appreciate it.
“I’d really appreciate it if you'd raise your hand.” He remarks, lying to himself. He didn’t care, he just wanted to see your expression fall, it surely did.
“How is that fair?” You ask, voice up an octave in disbelief, “No one else has.”
“You had something new to input, no?”
“Well, yeah—“
“Then?”
You scoff, slumping back in your seat in defeat, whatever tangible thought you had now gone.
“Fucking prick.” You mumble under your breath.
And he definitely hears that.
—
In the midst of all the hate, you remember the music that Eddie was kind enough to let you borrow, stuffed underneath your bed in a dark corner.
You are almost hesitant to keep it for yourself, willing to bet he didn’t have the courage to ask for it back, but as much as you hate to see his face, you’re also desperate to bother him as much as humanly possible.
Get under his skin and drive him mad.
“Hey, do you still have that dress?” Max turns to you with a contorted look on her face, suspicious at your sudden question.
“The black one that has that slit on the side?”
“Yeah, the one that cuts really low in the front.”
“Babe,” She says endearingly, “What are you up to?”
“Just hand it over.” You demand, making a small grabbing motion with your hand as Max sifts through her closet for the supposed article of clothing.
And you don’t feel the need to get too dolled up, but it’s important to play the part, pulling your hair back to show off more skin than necessary, the sleek black material clinging to your body perfectly, cut low enough that your breasts peak out middle, scandalous enough that even Max was blushing, averting her eyes in the other direction.
“It's yours,” She relents, motioning to your figure, “that thing has never looked that good on me.”
“I’ll be back in twenty.”
Max doesn’t question it, because deep down, she knows—and poor Eddie, but he deserves every bit of the karma he has coming for him.
At least you’re smart enough to forgo heels, deciding that your worn out converse were, while not stylish, still practical in your trek across campus, cold autumn pricking at your skin. It seems childish in hindsight, but all the more worth it as the sun sets, hoping to catch him at just the right moment.
When you do finally manage your way inside the music study hall, he’s shoving the key to his classroom into the doorknob, preemptive in his escape off campus, even if he still had another hour before he was technically unavailable. He seems impatient and eager, ready to bolt out of the building as soon as possible.
“Eddie,” You call out desperately, his head whipping in your direction, his normally pulled back hair flowing against his shoulders, “wait.”
He looked too good like this, perfectly tailored slacks and his shirt loose, unbuttoned and relaxed for the day, you could even see the guitar pick hung around his neck on the dainty chain, something you didn’t notice he wore underneath the disguise of what he was trying to be, covering up for what he actually was.
“It’s late.” He notes, eyes racking over your body unashamed, and that does nothing to ease the ache that fills your cunt at the sight of him. It truly was unfair how easily he affected you.
“Sorry—I forgot about these,” You held up the culprit in your hands, remembering how insistent Eddie had been about getting them back—you could still feel the grip of his fingers as they dipped into your skin, “didn’t want you thinking I was trying to steal them.”
Eddie sighs softly in defeat, unlocking his door and swinging it open in one swift motion. You smile cheerfully, slipping past his tall frame, noticing how quick he is to scoot away from your body, desperate to create as much space as possible.
“Jesus,” You laugh, “I’m not gonna bite you.”
And maybe that wasn’t entirely true.
“Can you hurry?” He asks, voice clipped and rough, he looks exhausted, rubbing his free hand over his face lazily. “I need to get home.”
You’re almost disappointed in the way he doesn’t care, doesn’t even flinch at the view of your breasts as you lean down to place the music back on its shelf—but it’s because he won’t make eye contact with you, eyes locked to the chipped linoleum floor like glue.
“Sorry,” You apologize, traveling the expanse of the room until you’re standing in front of him, leaving him no other option but to look at you, even if it’s only briefly, “didn’t want you more pissed at me than you already are.”
Eddie scoffs at that, leaning himself against the doorframe slightly, blocking your escape—not that you wanted to. He glances down at your shoes, making a small noise of amusement as his eyes travel up, stopping raptly at your breasts before landing on your face, a forced, but sweet smile waiting to greet him.
“Going out tonight?” Eddie asks harmlessly, you shrug.
“I was thinking about it.”
“It’s a Tuesday.”
“And?”
It’s not like he knew your schedule—not that you would be caught dead at any type of party or bar at this time of night, this early in the week.
“This isn’t going to work.” Eddie says smugly, pointing at your figure casually.
“What are you talking about?” You ask, acting chops not nearly up to par as they used to be, but it’s slightly believable.
Eddie’s tried everything to avoid this—being alone with you, in close proximity, no obstacles to hold himself back.
“Eddieee,” Your voice sings, realizing his wandering eyes and lack of attention, when they lock back on yours it’s palpable—like he knows he’s been caught.
You can’t be bothered to care what he thinks anymore, grabbing his idle and occasionally clenched hand in your grip, pressing it against your sternum, his palm flat against your skin. Your heart is racing under his touch, he can feel it. But, your boldness is still striking, surprising Eddie.
“You can touch, you know?” You tell him, voice soft and welcoming as his fingers pull in slightly, grazing your touch starved skin.
“Stop.” He pleads, but his hand doesn’t leave, not right away.
“What?” You ask softly, “Don’t like being teased?”
And if he wasn’t onto you before, he is now.
He finds the dip in your chest, finger skimming down the line until it rests just about your bellybutton. Your stomach sucks in at the feeling, watching as his fingers lingers, not moving an inch. When you look up at him he’s smiling; smug and annoying and so punchable.
He’s so close—and you want so badly for him to give in, slip his hand underneath the lip of the dress and take you right there, with his fingers, or his mouth, or his dick, it didn’t matter. You hiccuped at the thought, flooding with ache as he pulled his hand away, shoving it into his pocket.
“Don’t play a game you can’t win.” He retorts, your shoulders sagging in defeat. “It’s a nice dress, though—I’ll give you that.”
“Oh, fuck you.” You bite at him, shoving past his body to force yourself out of his classroom, whatever nugget of a plan you had left was gone and it all seemed pointless.
He doesn’t try to hold you back this time, but you can’t be bothered to care.
—-
“I didn’t bring a gift,” You pout petulanty, staring at Max with somber eyes, “—I can’t just walk in there without one.”
“Steve won’t care.” Max assures you, “It’s Steve.”
The man who would throw himself in front of a bus to protect any of you, always treating you just as loved as his own kids. You’ve only seen them in pictures, but Steve felt like a stranger now, and it had your body thrumming with nerves.
You arrive at the house, flooded with distant memories—it was his parents' place, the large and overwhelming home always a refuge for you and your friends when you were much younger and naive. It made you frown, thinking about how you left this place behind; left everyone else behind, besides Max—but even that was a sore subject sometimes.
And he’s standing next to a flurry of little children, running around him in circles asking for rides and desperate little arms reaching toward him in desperation. It’s amusing, a smile pulling at your face. It was something Steve had always wanted and he finally had it.
“Oh my god,” His voice cuts through the music and screaming kids, catching your expression, “She’s alive!”
“Eh,” It’s a noise of uncertainty, not sure if that was all entirely true—you were barely scraping by most days, college stretching you as thin as you could go, “that’s debatable.”
He pulls you in for the type of hugs that remind you of family; familiar and warm, his arms enveloping you and squeezing tight. You let it set, arms crossed tightly over his back as he murmurs something into your hair.
“I’m glad you came.” You smile sadly into the embrace, pulling away eventually at the sound of a much too familiar voice.
“Harrington,” Your temporary bliss was ruined, turning on your heels to watch an energetic and boisterous Eddie walking your way, a toddler hanging on his hip, “found a straggler.”
Your eyes search around desperately, trying to grasp at any excuse to escape off elsewhere, but everyone’s already preoccupied and Max is nowhere to be seen—meanwhile Nancy and Robin are manning the snack station, keeping an eye out for the sugar-filled kids diving back for their fourth and fifth plate.
It amazes you how easily Steve managed to keep up with it all.
“Sorry,” He apologizes, reaching for his son, a tiny spitting image of himself, freckles and goofy grin as he pulled at Eddie’s curly hair, yanking until Eddie gave in and tilted his head toward the child, “here, hand ‘em over.”
“He’s okay,” Eddie assured him, letting the kid ravage his hair with no complaints, enjoying the loud burst of giggles as he pinched playful at the toddler’s stomach, screeching excitedly, “aren’t you, buddy?”
“He can’t talk yet,” Steve points out, watching his toddler stare back in wonder, “—hey, have you met Eddie?”
There’s a tense, shared look between you both before you answer Steve at the same time.
“Yeah—“
“Unfortunately—“
It slips out unwillingly, hate bleeding through your thoughts and spilling out of your mouth. Steve gives you a look—the kind that would definitely come back to bite you later when Steve wanted to be nosey, but he pushed it aside for now.
“Well, I guess there’s no need for introductions,” He decides, finally grabbing his son from Eddie’s grip, much to the young child’s protest, grasping at Eddie’s tie in the process, sending it slightly askew, “where did you meet?”
“Uh—The Hideout, about a month or so ago.” Eddie replies, saving you the struggle of explaining anything to Steve. “Max brought her to one of my shows.”
“Oh,” Steve answers, feeling a small tinge of shame, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it that night—you know how it is.”
“Dude, you’ve got your hands full.” Eddie laughs lightly, “I get it.”
There’s a lingering pause of silence, eyes lingering on Eddie’s disheveled appearance, still half-dressed in his uniform, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, slacks wrinkled from wear. It was a wonder he’d even show up like this, always seeming pretty adamant about separating his work life from everything else.
“Got any beers?” You finally ask, cutting through the awkwardness.
“Uh, yeah—in the fridge.” Steve answers, wrestling the toddler on his hip who was becoming more restless than yourself. “You remember?”
You nod, bidding Steve a quick wave before excusing yourself, taking a long breath of relief when you are finally alone.
The sip of alcohol is a relief, leaning against the large countertop island, kitchen empty for the most part—most of the crowd was outside, wrangling and chasing the other kids around, attempting to keep the children under control.
It isn’t until Eddie’s pressing in behind you that you acknowledge his presence, jumping away in fear, having been so consumed in your own thoughts that you didn’t even hear him walk up.
“Jesus, fuck—“ You curse, hand clasped over your rapidly beating heart, eyes closing briefly to calm yourself, “Warn a girl?”
Eddie snorts to himself, ignoring your complaint. The fridge door rattles open and he turns his back to you fully, reaching down to grab a beer for himself.
“Scared of me or something?” Eddie teases lowly, beer can cracking through the silence as he opens it, taking one long, slow sip as he stares you down, gaze so scrutinizing it makes you shiver.
“Should I be?” You asked flippantly, face drawn up in annoyance.
This was ridiculous—all the underlying pettiness and jabs. It would be easier to just forget about him completely, but he seemed unavoidable now, forcing himself into your daily life like a bad habit you couldn’t break.
“Steve seems happy to see you.” Eddie notes, turning to you fully, forearm resting against the island. He kept his distance this time, unlike at the bar—still, he was within arms reach, which was all the more frustrating. And his stupid fucking tie, still sitting lopsided around his neck.
“Please fix your tie,” You beg, the obvious lack of care he had for it was driving you insane, “it looks horrible.”
“It’s not bothering me.” He admits casually, shoulders shrugging slightly.
Your eyes are burning holes into his chest, stuck on nothing but the lousy piece of material. Eddie noticed, making a last ditch effort at driving you nuts if this happened to be the last time he ever saw you outside of school—he hoped it was, he surely couldn’t take much more of it.
“If you’re going to keep staring at it, just fix it.” Eddie tells you, moving close enough that you don’t have to lean over, arms flung out to his side to avoid touching you, head tilted back slightly to give you better access.
You wasted no time, yanking him roughly by the tie until he was settled between your widened legs, his own expression pulling up at the boldness, maneuvering him where you needed him.
And maybe he should’ve expected it, challenging you like that—but for what it’s worth, your touch isn’t sensual or aggressive in nature, just pure and genuine need to fix his horrible tied tie and finally put yourself out of the misery of having to look at it.
It was a reminder to you that even though Eddie might seem like he has his shit together, he’s still barely stitched together at the seams, just like you. He was trying to survive, live, make something for himself—teaching wasn’t his first or second career path, but it was all he had to grasp onto right now. Unfortunately, he was already fucking that up for himself to, indulging in things he never should have. He should steer clear of you, he should act like you don’t exist, but now his breath is ghosting over the outside of your hands as you construct the tie properly, explaining as you go in soft, monotone voice—he’s never heard it before.
“Where did you learn?” Eddie asks suddenly, face tilted down toward your hands, his mesmerizing brown eyes glancing up toward your face, holding your gaze. You didn’t try to cross your legs to satiate the ache, it was there, suffering in silence as you tried to push through.
“Are you asking because you want to know? Or because you’re trying to be friendly?”
Eddie shrugs slightly, “Both.”
“I know a lot of things, Eddie.” You decide on, not giving into his weak attempt at being civil with you. “It doesn’t matter where I learned them.”
You pat his chest firmly, admiring your work. He’s never had anyone do it for him and do it well, even Wayne’s halfhearted attempt fell short, as much as he tried. He went to prom without a tie that night, but it was probably for the best anyways.
His chest rises in an intake of breath, your hand lingering against the material for a moment too long—it was almost identical to the position you were in yesterday, completely unprompted. You can’t bare the idea of looking up at him, knowing how hard his gaze was set on you.
“Look—“ The word lingers in the tension thick air, charged and brimming with whatever forces Eddie to graze your thigh with his free hand, dragging against the exposed skin lightly.
“Hey, there you are—“ Max rounds the corner quickly, interrupting whatever was still lingering between you two.
She’s got that smug look on her face, eyes lighting up in excitement on the prospect of finally being right, knowing just how hard it was for you two to resist each other.
“Oh,” She stammers, quickly looking away when Eddie turns on her, shoving enough space between you that it couldn’t have been more obvious of the compromising position she’d just found you both in, “sorry for interrupting.”
She’s swift, grabbing a few drinks and shoving them into the book of her arm, but not subtle at all in the way she glances between you both, failing to hold back the small laugh that escapes her.
“Don’t forget, this is a children’s party.”
If Eddie could pass out from embarrassment, he would’ve.
“You told her?” Eddie spits out in a harsh, hard tone when Max is far enough away.
“She’s my best friend!” You defend, “I’m living with her, I can’t just hide it—she knows you, Eddie.”
“You said you could keep this shit a secret.”
“What? Your one little slip-up?” You taunt, hard facade lifting back up—whatever soft, endearing feeling that had started to spill over was no longer, now replaced with that same bit of rage you had toward him previously. “You think that because you shoved your hand down my pants in your car that we have something going on? You can’t even own up to your own fucking mistakes.”
Though, he never said you were a mistake; not to your face. Still, he can’t help but stare, inraptured by your rage and how clearly pent up you were, something simmering underneath it all.
“I’m not some fetish.” You warn him.
“Neither am I.” He answers back just as quickly, wondering where the sudden outburst surfaced from. “Are you trying to shift the blame on me?”
“I’m the student,” You snap, “isn’t that how this works?”
Truthfully, it was hard to see him any other way than just Eddie—but as he stood in front of you now, still buttoned up and far too proper for a child’s birthday party, it was a painful reminder. This was so, so wrong.
“Screw this shit,” Eddie says defeatedly, tossing the still nearly full beer can in the sink and shoving past you, out to the backyard.
—
“You’re leaving?” Steve asks, rushing up to you.
You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t keep yourself together, not here. “Yeah—look, I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no—it’s fine.” Steve assures you, seeing the mix of pain and frustration cross your face, “just—don’t be a stranger, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I promise.” You tell him, honestly clear on your face. He could see that something was wrong, he wasn’t that oblivious—but he wasn’t going to push it.
“Just—go easy on him.” He says, nodding toward Eddie’s departing figure.
Your eyebrows pull together in surprise, “Huh?”
“Come on,” Steve chuckles lightly, “you two are so obvious.”
It seemed like everyone knew but the both of you, which terrified you—Eddie had amazing friends, clearly; they were yours too.
Eddie’s halfway down the block, nearing his van hat’s parked in the dark, deadend alcove of the street, when your footsteps come clambering his way, nearly backing him into his own door, nothing but adrenaline and blind instinct running through your body.
“Eddie—“ You say strongly, pulling at his sleeve, forcing him to turn to face you. He’s stoic, face void of emotion, but it speaks volumes. “I wasn’t finished.”
He squeezes a fist, desperate to hold back whatever small amount of restraint he has left, but there is none.
“I meant it—” Eddie spits back, grabbing your wrist tightly as he shoved you against the side of his van, hand traveling up to your throat in a tight grip, forcing you to stay where you are, “fuck this.”
You open your mouth to fit in your last word, but Eddie doesn’t even give you the chance to speak, other hand fisting in your hair as he kisses you—teeth and tongue and anything but sweet and careful, like he wanted to devour you on the spot. You can’t stand the power imbalance, hand coming up to push back, wrapping around his own neck, nails digging into the sensitive skin around his jaw, sure to leave lingering marks for everyone to see—but you couldn’t find it in you to care.
You’re thankful for the privacy, can shielding you both from view—you could only imagine how bad this looked.
You moan openly, unashamed and loud at the way he’s forcing you back, knee shoved between your thigh, pressed firmly against your aching cunt, skirt riding up in the process. The hand that’s twisted in your hair comes to cover your mouth, squeezing slightly to muffle your filthy noises, bound to wake the entire neighborhood if you keep up like this.
Eddie pulls back suddenly, yanking at the freshly tied tie around his neck, ruining all the diligent, hard work you’d put into making it look perfect, balling the material up and holding it against your mouth, waiting wordlessly for you to open. You want to argue, but he’s clearly not in the mood, either—one goal in mind.
“Don’t make a sound,” He says, jaw tense as he presses against you, lifting up the front of your skirt to slip his hand over the front of your underwear, middle finger dragging against your clothed cunt, a small patch of wetness already noticeable from the manhandling, “got it?”
You nod feebly, opening your mouth to let the fabric slip through, biting down lightly—perfect timing as Eddie shifts his hand inside of your underwear, sinking a finger inside of you, the thickness of them a welcomed feeling as your cunt clenched around the digit in desperation.
He’s not kind or gentle in his movements, starting at a steady, rough pace as you gave in, leaning against his van for support, still pressed against the hard line of his body.
You want to tell him it’s not enough—you need more, want more. But, it hangs on your tongue, muffled by the fabric. You whimper, his wet fingers dragging out to rub against your clit furiously, hand shooting down to grab his wrist.
Eddie doesn’t appreciate it.
“Want more, don’t you?” He asks, pulling away from you, yanking his arm out of your grasp. “Answer me.”
You nod quickly—and he’s dropping to his knees on the hard, gravel covered pavement; no doubt those khaki slacks would be ruined for the rest of eternity, but he was risking that, for you.
He’s determined, slipping your panties down your bare legs, tucking the material into his pocket, which should turn you on as much as it did, but the thought is interrupted by a tap against your thigh, “Up.” He tells you, helping you rest you leg over his shoulder, giving him a perfect view of you, “—oh, she’s fucking soaked, isn’t she?”
Another weak nod, the small tinge in your cunt hitting you deep in your stomach, the ache radiating through your entire body. You couldn’t explain it, Eddie just had that effect—-through his words and actions.
“Come here.” He mumbles, canting your hips up, hands coming around to cover your bare ass, forcing you against his face, pussy slotting over his mouth perfectly.
And you can’t believe you’ve ever deprived yourself of this experience, suddenly addicted to the feeling. You’ve felt it in dreams, wondered, hope that it would be as good—it was better, so much better.
You cry against the fabric as Eddie licks broadly, through your folds until he reaches your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive nub, before his lips close over to suck, nearly knocking you on your ass completely if it weren’t for his hands holding you steady.
“Don’t come,” He instructs—it feels like a punishment, it probably is—but you’re not going to argue, not when he was making you feel this good. “okay?”
You murmur a soft noise of acknowledgement, hands slipping into the hair at the crown of his head, using the momentum to rock his face against you, his tongue dipping inside you at the movement, nose bumping your clit.
He’s relentless, hands squeezing at whatever skin he could reach, desperate to consume every last drop of whatever you had to offer, eating you up like the starved man he was; you’ve never felt more vulnerable and that terrified you. You weren’t going to be able to last long, not like this—he wanted you to break.
You pulled the tie out of your mouth, panting in waves, “Fuck—I give up, I can’t—“ You gasp out softly, “Eddie—“
He subsides, allowing you a moment of relief as he pulls back, mouth looking obscene, covered in your wetness. He sees the look of desperation on your face, silently pleading.
“Get in.” He demands, pulling away long enough to shove you in the driver's side, forcing himself in after you, not giving you any room to escape before he’s pulling you back to him, settled over his lap roughly.
It’s nothing but grabbing hands and harsh, bruising touches as he grips your thighs, your waist, before settling on your face, cheeks pinched between his hand in a tight grip.
“This what you wanted?” He asks accusingly, squeezing at your ass, through the thinness of your silk skirt, the warm press of his fingertips enough to drive you insane. “I know it is.”
“I will shove that stupid fucking tie in your mouth if you don’t shut up.” You practically beg, grinding down roughly against his clothed dick, straining against the zipper of his slacks. Your threat is muffled by his mouth, fighting to overtake control, tongue slipping past your lips with too much ease, like you’d been waiting for this moment since you laid eyes on him.
You can’t believe you didn’t seize the opportunity sooner, a crime that someone with a mouth this good would keep it to themselves for so long, but he sounded much better like this—speechless aside from the tiny, pathetic grunts he let slip out.
“Gonna fuck you.” He seethes out, teeth clenched as you pull back on his hair, head tilting up to look at you.
Oh. Your head quirks to the side, tongue dragging over your top row of teeth teasingly, curling against the corner of your mouth to jut out slightly. “Blind confidence isn’t cute.”
But, you wanted him. God, did you want him.
His hand slips between the space against his slacks, rubbing over himself as he cups your cunt, bare and begging for him to sink into you, embarrassingly so.
“Bodies don’t lie.” He points out, pointer finger dragging up testingly through your folds. You shake your head in annoyance, but don’t make any effort to move his hand, “Don’t believe me?”
He yanks gently at your hand fisted in his hair, rubbing the flat of your palm against his dick, hard and hot under the material and you can feel yourself clenching at the thought of that fitting inside you—if only.
“So desperate to fuck me—fuck your teacher, is that it?” Eddie pushes further, using his own hand to help you start a steady rhythm as he ruts against your hand.
“You know I don’t look at you that way,” You insist, wishing desperately that he’d stop bringing it up, no matter how weirdly deviant it felt to be doing something morally wrong, “god—just shut the fuck up.”
Thankfully, he does, hand returning to your face to squeeze tightly, lips crushed against his in a messy, spit filled kiss. “Fuck.” You sigh, letting the small semblance of pleasure slip out, music to Eddie’s ears, better than any song he’s ever heard in his lifetime.
Eddie slams you back against his steering wheel, thin jacket doing nothing to save the bruise that would form the next morning, his fingers ripping hurriedly at that zipper in an attempt to rid you of more clothes, determined to do exactly what he told you he would—fucking you until you had nothing left to say.
“Cute,” He smirks, staring at the sheer matching top to your skirt, hardened nipples visible through the material. His hand slides up the length of your stomach, breath quickening by the second, his touch like a brand against your skin, “I didn’t think it would be this easy—guess you’re just that needy, huh?”
You yank harshly at the fabric bound in his grip, a small stutter of confusion from Eddie before you’re shoving the material in his mouth, his cheeks pinched between your fingers.
“Don’t. Fucking. Talk.” You stress, letting his eyes search your own. There wasn’t a twitch or waver in your gaze, all seriousness as he stared back at you, nodding like the poor, wrecked man he was. “Condoms?”
Eddie shakes his head furiously, but not in the way that he seemed adamant about not using one—he just didn’t carry them in his van. It’s just your luck.
You hesitate for half a second before throwing all sensible thinking out the window, pulling at the button of his slacks and untucking his wrinkled button up, the smallest groan of relief escaping him as you finally unzip his pants.
“You can fuck me,” You tell him, instructing him to listen to you carefully, “but I don’t want to hear a word from you, got it?”
He nods furiously, teeth clenching against the material.
It takes a bit of skillful movement to get his pants down his legs before he’s quickly pushing at his boxers, letting them slip low enough that he can spring his cock free, painfully hard and resting stiff against his stomach from the curled and compromised position he was in.
You pout playfully, “Cute,” Your voice is soft, pulling your top high enough that your breasts hang free, and he’s quick to shoot a hand out, but not quick enough to escape your grip, “Nuh uh.”
He’s annoyed, eyebrows deep set into his face as his eyes widen. “You don’t get to touch unless I say you can.”
Eddie never felt like this—so willing to comply with your orders, despite how badly he wanted to take you in the back of his van—it didn’t matter how, but he needed that control. Still, he gave it up for you, allowing you to take the anger out on him; in some ways, it helped him too.
He nods obediently, a gentle acknowledgment, letting his hands fall to your thighs lightly, thumbs caressing the flesh there, smoothing against the soft inner most part of your leg.
You lick your hand wet, which shouldn’t make his dick jump the way it does, but there’s no point in hiding his bashfulness now, intrigued by your crass way of handling this—you were on a goddamn mission. You take him in your hand firmly, giving his shaft a few short tugs, thumb grazing against the ruddy tip, spreading the small bead of precum down his shift, helping in the slick slide of your hand, filling the van with the intimate noises of your skin against skin and the barely audible grunts of satisfaction that Eddie couldn’t hold back.
You chortle softly, a small huff of amusement through your nose as you pull at his dick teasingly, noticing how entranced he was in both your hands and the way your breasts sat on your chest, just out of reach.
“What did you think, huh?” You ask teasingly, voice barely above a whisper, “Probably thought I was some soft, easy girl that would do whatever you asked—that’s what you want, right?”
Eddie shakes his head desperately, eyes squeezing shut on a tight tug at his dick, before you slide back down, squeezing at the base. “You like the easy ones, don’t you? All eager to let you fuck them?”
Another pitiful head shake.
“Good.” You say with fervor, leaning forward to mouth at his neck, shoving his hair to the side to allow better access. “I could get real kinky—call you sir, or is that too far?”
He mumbles something around the material, eyes desperately trying to convey emotion. You give him the benefit, slipping the piece out momentarily.
“Shit—call me whatever you want, just let me fuck you already.”
Most of it was harmless teasing, but Eddie was so inherently desperate that he’d agree to anything at this point. You stuff the tie back into his mouth, lifting your skirt until the material was bunched at your waist, perching forward to rub the soft tip against your folds, letting Eddie moan desperately at the sensation.
His cock slides in easily, cunt swallowing him down as you welcomed the stretch, clenching against the perfect grip you had on his dick as you moved slowly, sighing in relief.
“Fuck, it feels good, doesn’t it?”
Eddie nods jerkily, almost approvingly, his hands forcing your legs further apart, which you didn’t really mind—it helped him slip deeper, buried to the hilt inside of you, dick pulsing with each gentle squeeze of your cunt.
You start at a slow, excruciating pace, hips dragging up far enough that the tip of his cock almost slips out, before roughly slamming back down, your chest flushing a deep red from exertion.
He’s suffering deeply, squeezing at the back of your thighs in earnest, trying to meet your own hips as you sink down onto him, again and again—and he’s a wreck, moaning wantonly around the fabric, head lolling back from where it’s still held tight in your grip; he’s never felt so powerless, but he’s almost okay with it.
“This is your fault,” Your voice is strained, Eddie aiming for something deep inside of you as his hips worked against your, “all your fucking fault.”
Eddie practically whines, hands traveling up to squeeze at your hips, before slipping over the curve of your ass—he was terrible at following rules, but you couldn’t be bothered to care, not when he was staring at you so openly, a surge of pleasure shooting through your body as his eyes squeezed shut, cunt clenching down on him at a particularly deep thrust.
He’s shaking his head, holding back the words being forced down by the fabric—and you have a heart, but it’s with deep regret when you slip the fabric from his mouth, soaked with his spit and useless as you toss it to the sound, head titled just over his as he speaks to you.
“My turn,” He remarks snidely, demeanor switching on a dime, left hand twisting in the root of your hair until your neck was straining back, your chest presented perfectly in front of his face, his lips connected with the hardened bud of your nipple as he bites gently at the skin before moving to suck a deep purple bruise on the underside of your breast, revelling in the noises you let slip, a flurry of high pitched moans as he works you over, “so fucking needy, yeah?”
And you can’t answer, mouth hung on a noiseless gasp, your impending orgasm creeping up on you slowly—you could just end it all yourself right now, but where’s the fun in that?
“Not so cocky now,” Eddie chuckles softly, mouth sliding up your chest until it’s settled just above your own, the eye contact so personal it makes your heart palpate—whatever hate you’d had toward him dissipated, replaced with the blinding urge to let him ruin you, exactly how he wanted, “if I knew that fucking you would shut you up—I would’ve done it a lot sooner.”
“Eddie—“ You hiccup, hands clutched against his clothed shoulders in an attempt to keep you balanced and upright, the brutal pace of his thrusts threatening to knock you off balance.
Eddie quirks an eyebrow—and you know, you know exactly what he’s asking for, the wordless gaze testing your own patience.
“I’m not—not calling you sir, it’s not—not right,” You force out, feeling the familiar nudge of a thumb against your clit, his hands like home when they finally touch you, “—thought you hated—hated that word.”
“Not when you say it,” He smiles daringly, his hand unwinding from your have to caress you face, head pulling back in his grip, the pad of his thumb dragging over the soft pillowy skin of your bottom lip, “—don’t think I don’t know what you like being called, it’s so fucking obvious.”
His thumb pressed firmly, rubbing quick circular motions against your clit, pleasure threatening to spill over, but he’s pulling back just as your keen forward, stopping you in your tracks, “What the fuck?” You ask breathlessly.
“Beg,” His voice is rough, nearing his own desperate search for an end, “or I can make this a lot worse.”
And you can play along, “Please—“ You reply sweetly, his thumb dipping in your mouth to press against your tongue, widening your mouth open in punishment.
“Not good enough.” He replies, his warm, calloused hand traveling to the underside of your jaw, face squeezed between his grip—it’s bordering on painful, eyes welling up with tears.
“Fuck—please—please, sir,” His face lights up in both lust and amusement, the words spilling from your mouth shamelessly, “god—just let me come, please?”
“Good girl,” He remarks sweetly, the quick work of his thumb against your sensitive clit bringing you over the edge, hitting you hard and fast, “—fuck, look at you.”
Your eyes squeeze shut, too overwhelmed by the warm sensation that spreads through your body, moaning brokenly against Eddie’s lips, barely grazing your own as you work through your orgasm, cunt clenching down against his own cock—a sharp reminder that he didn’t have much self control to hold out any longer, moving you off of him with just enough time to wrap his hand around himself, coming against the exposed flesh of your stomach, head tilted down as he works through it, bottom lip pulled between his teeth in anguish.
It doesn’t last long though, the blissful peace interrupted by your own voice. “I should go,” You adjust yourself, cleaning up the mess with whatever piece of clothing Eddie hands you, “Max is probably waiting for me.”
“I can drive you—“ Eddie begins to offer, but you can’t be bothered to listen.
“You got it out of your system, right?” You ask rudely, “You don’t have to pretend to be nice to me.”
Eddie stays silent, watching you adjust yourself in his passenger seat until you look somewhat presentable, unlike you’d just been thoroughly fucked over his lap, his hands making a mess of your hair.
“What? Not a fan of one night stands or something?” You ask harshly, watching the way his face twitches in annoyance. “We had sex. We can forget about it now.”
But, of course—Eddie’s nagging voice in the back of head wouldn’t let him. He didn’t want to forget about it. You knew he was fighting with an internal battle of right and wrong—was it really worth it?
“It’s not that.”
“You know what,” You tell him, voice gripped on the door handle as you turn toward him, “when you can finally figure out what you want, let me know.”
He didn’t need the time to figure it out. Eddie knew what he wanted, unfortunately—it was you.
—-
Max doesn’t bring anything up on the drive back to your dorm, which you’re thankful for. She knows, you know she does. It doesn’t ease that complete and utter emptiness you feel after leaving Eddie, both of you defeated from your inability to accept the truth—you weren’t finished with him either.
And your heart nearly drops into your stomach when Eddie catches your arm at the end of class, a long week of sneaking glances at each other, failing miserably at trying to keep your mind occupied on anything else.
“Hold on,” he says softly, your school day nearing its end—you were exhausted and you wanted to curl up in your bed and spend the rest of your day being frustrated there, out of his proximity, “let’s talk.”
“Here?” You ask carefully, “Are you sure?”
“There’s that big game tonight—no one’s planning on sticking around.” Eddie explains, watching the flurry of students and staff exit the building through the window tucked in his classroom door, “I just need you to hear me out.”
For once, you find it in yourself to listen, walking slowly to perch yourself on his desk, hands tucked against each other as you wait, noticing how his hands flexed—he seemed anxious.
“If we do this, we have to be careful,” Eddie explains, he knew that wasn’t possible. “—I can’t lose my fucking job.”
You nod quietly—the ramifications were serious, you understood that.
“And it’s just casual,” He insists, “right?”
Did he really need your confirmation?
“Are you asking me or yourself?” You question, watching his shift closer, thigh leaned against the edge of his desk as he rested, looking down at your tightly clasped hands.
“Answer me.” It’s not demanding, the look in his eyes anything but.
“I’m not going to fall in love with you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You assure him, a smile pulling at your face—it’s the first time he’s seen it in a while, and he hates how it makes him feel; regretting every word that’s coming out of his mouth.
“And no special treatment,” He adds slyly, “I’m not passing you for sex, so don’t try it.”
“Are you sure?” You test him, finger reaching out to catch at the edge of his pants, pulling him gently until he gets the message, moving himself between your legs.
There’s a slight thrill that runs through you at the idea of getting caught.
“You haven’t let me suck you off yet,” You point out, “so you might want to withhold judgment on that.”
His hands move to rest on either side of you, flat against his desk as he leans in, perched forward, his eyes darkening at the admission, his face so close you could lean in and kiss him—you really wanted to.
“I can tell you’ve never been touched,” He says lowly, “At least, not the way you’ve always wanted to be.”
He could read you like a book, that was clear.
“Does that bother you?” You ask, breath ghosting over his face, his bottom lip pulling between his teeth in suspense, hanging on your every word.
Eddie nods his head slowly.
“A girl like you,” Eddie dotes, leaning forward to rest his lips against the shell of your ear, sending you into a full body shiver, “it’s a damn shame.”
“Want to know a secret?” You ask quietly, face blushing a deep shade of red as he crowded against you.
Eddie makes a small noise of approval, and idle hand slipping between the space of your thighs, squeezing gently. “Tell me.”
“That night in your van,” You take a pause, letting the silence linger, knowing that Eddie was brimming with anticipation, “I’ve never came before—not by someone else’s hand.”
Eddie’s hand grazes the seam of your jeans, cupping your front briefly, daring you to speak another word.
“I mean—my hands are great,” You laugh softly, “but yours—they’re so fucking good. You have no idea.”
“I guess I didn’t really take you for the type either,” Eddie notes suddenly, pulling back to look at you, eyes blinded with lust, “I didn’t even have to ask to fuck you raw, you wanted it.”
You nodded proudly, head tipping up as his fingers caught your chin, letting his other hand that gripped your thigh pull you closer, pressed firmly up against his groin, hard dick straining through his pants.
“Good girls don’t do that,” He whispers softly, “do they?”
You shake your head obediently, your own lip pulling in between your teeth. Your head tilts upwards under his grip, his eyes urging you to speak. You knew what he wanted to hear.
“No, sir”. You answer softly, and Eddie smiles devilishly.
“So we’ll make sure to be careful next time?”
Next time—you can feel your cunt clenching at the admission, nodding eagerly at his question.
Eddie laughs softly, “Good girl.” He comments for good measure, admiring the way your face lights up at his words.
And you wait, seeing if he’ll push it further; he doesn’t, enjoying the look of desperation he held you in, eyes never leaving your face.
“Can I kiss you?” It’s the last thing you expect from him, the normalcy in his tone, no malice or filthy intent behind the words.
“Please?”
He answers the question with his lips, pressing softly against your waiting mouth, tongue sliding over your bottom lip, mouth parting to let him in. It was nice to kiss him without the heat and anger that was there before, indulging in him just because you wanted to.
“Am I gonna regret this?” He asks against your mouth, hand sliding behind your neck to grip it firmly, fingers pressing into the skin.
“Definitely—and I still want my panties back, by the way.”
Eddie snorts into the chaste kiss he presses against your lips, “Not a fucking chance.”
Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, kissing & sucking & fondling of ears, over the clothes rubbing, cumming in pants
Eddie Munson will literally come undone if you give too much attention to his ears. They are always so covered up by his hair that it takes some time for you to figure this tidbit out.
You two are watching tv one evening and you get bored, so you lean against him and start fidgeting. Playing with his rings, his guitar pick necklace, the collar of his shirt. He’s pleasantly invested in the show, but he indulges your exploration of him, relaxing against the back of the couch and letting you have your way while he lazily drags his knuckles up and down your back.
You get up on your knees beside him and start kissing his neck, making him hum and close his eyes with a smile on his face. But when you kiss your way to his ear, take his earlobe between your nibbling teeth and suck, he practically shoots off the couch.
“Fucking CHRIST, sweetheart.” It’s part admonishment, but his voice is shaky as he turns to you.
“Did I hurt you?“ you ask, immediately worried. He flushes a beautiful, startling shade of red and adjusts the crotch of his suddenly tightened jeans. The motion of his hand in his lap draws your attention right down to his erection. Your eyes widen. “Oh…”
“It’s not..I…” He’s tripping over his words, something that barely ever happens. Your mile-a-minute-talking boyfriend is usually silver tongued and confident, able to toy with you and soothe you and rile you up, all with the same mouth. But now that mouth is pressed into a pout. For some reason his sensitivity has made him self conscious.
“Yeah oh never…never mind,” you say, shrugging to try and settle him. You relax back into the couch and wait for him to do the same. He does, gradually. You feel his muscles lose their rigidity beside you. Almost apologetically one of his hands goes to grip yours, lifting your intertwined grasp to rest on his thigh.
You both continue watching tv, but your mind is racing with your new discovery. You’d never played with Eddie’s ears before. You’d whispered in them before, sure. But now that you think back on those memories, you realize he’d always shuddered bodily in response. He was usually the one whispering in your ear during sex. The one who made you fall the fuck apart.
So now, with this new knowledge swirling in your brain, you’re feeling your heart start to speed up with the new possibilities. Heat spreads in your abdomen and pools between your legs. And when you begin to feel your pulse down there too you know you have to do something about it.
You start slow. Sliding your free hand up and down his arm. Smoothing your palm over his chest until you’re leaning over and kissing his shoulder chastely. Then you move slightly. Begin kissing the solid yet lean muscle of his chest, right over where you know one of his tattoos to be hidden under the fabric of his shirt.
You’re careful and slow about rising to your knees beside him this time. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Eddie and uncomfortable were too incongruous concepts so you were a little confused, but your desire to get to the bottom of this sensitivity urges you onward. He flinches when you start moving up with your kisses so you slow down even further and spend a lot of time sucking and nibbling at his collar bone where you’ve pushed down the neckline of his shirt, leaving pretty marks that you know you’ll enjoy looking at in the coming days.
When you finally start moving back up to his neck, Eddie’s beginning to lose the battle of concentration. His eyes keep fluttering closed in prolonged blinks. He lets go of your hand, moving instead to grip the edge of the couch cushion. You use your freed hand stroke up and down his chest. Soothing and yo finally zero in on your mark.
You lick a line up from the side of his neck to the base of his earlobe before slotting the flesh lightly between your lips. He hisses and squirms but you hold onto his head to keep him in place. The hand cupping the other side of his face slides to play with his other ear, ghosting along the shell of it.
“Baby that’s…it’s too…” He’s outright moaning. From some kissing and a little sucking on a place you’ve never given attention before. It thrills you beyond belief. But dutifully you pull away a few inches for a second.
“Do you want me to stop? I will,” you reassure him. When it comes to consent and respecting comfort levels, you learned from the best. Eddie is always checking in and making sure you’re still enjoying every second of whatever he’s doing. Even though you’re having fun, you’ll give him nothing less than the same curtesy.
“I just can’t think…it’s so…don’t stop.” His voice is haggard and you find yourself distracted by the way he fidgets in the seat, his hips flexing and calling attention yet again to the strain in his jeans. His words trip a wire in your brain and then you’re back on him. Licking a thin stripe along the outline of his ear before dipping back down to suck on the soft flesh.
“Oh my fucking god. You’re fucking killing me.” You’re about to pull off of him to ask if that’s a good or bad thing when one of his hands flies up to cradle the back of your neck, keeping your mouth against his ear. His other hand grabs at your forearm on the other side, encouraging your fingers to keep stroking and squeezing.
You hum against him and his hips buck up, giving you a wonderful view of how stiff he is straining in his jeans. Your free hand snakes down to begin palming at his bulge, making Eddie let loose a low whimper.
“This feel good?” you ask, breathy in his ear. He moans and nods, so you hum. “Good. Because you’re so unbelievably pretty like this, Eddie.”
“Oh fuck,” Eddie’s eyes roll back and his head rests against the back of the couch. His hips are bucking up into your hand at this point, so you speed up and intensify your rubbing.
“What’s got you so sensitive, Eds? This do it for you? Huh?”
You’ve never spoken to him like this before and it’s got his brain absolutely melting. With his usual intimidating confidence you had always felt content - happy even - to let him lead. But his reactions take the guesswork out of it. Your attention on his ears is driving him wild and you’ve never seen him so nonverbal. So undone so fast.
His lips, which he’d been biting, open suddenly in a gasp.
“I’m gonna - fuck. It’s so good I’m gonna - !” His breath comes in heavy pants and one of his hands joins you on his lap adding pressure to his throbbing cock through the denim. You feel it twitch under both of your hands.
You take his earlobe even further into your mouth and nibble. He practically convulses in your arms letting out a guttural groan. Warmth spreads in his lap under your hands but you keep rubbing him.
When Eddie slumps back against the couch, breath still haggard, you disentangle yourself and arrange yourself innocently beside him. Staring straight at the TV which has remained playing this whole time.
You can feel Eddie’s gaze burning into you with your peripherals but all you do is smirk and continue facing forward. You’re so turned on though. So fucking hot because of what you’d just witnessed. What you’d just been able to do to him.
Suddenly your body is yanked down and spread out on the couch, your world going topsy turvy in the blink of an eye. Eddie is on you immediately, yanking pushing your clothes out of the way and attaching his mouth to your throat, your ear, your breasts, your stomach.
It’s a chaotic and frantic barrage and you laugh underneath his frenzied attack.
“Wh-what are you doing?” You ask, less surprised by the affection and more surprised by the disorganized array of tactics.
“I’m going to find the spot on you that reduces you to a brainless fuck toy,” he says simply, and your pussy contracts around nothing immediately. He notices your grin and shakes his head, a smirk on his face. “And this is not a reward. It’s payback. Get ready.”
~*~
Tiny tag list: @millenialcatlady @theoncrayjoy @sacklerscumrag @boomhauer @cowboy-kylo @copycatkillerfics
Summary: “I got 2 tickets to Iron Maiden baby, come with me Friday, don’t say maybe.”~ you and your boyfriend finish your record store date late at night. The van doors are open, Iron Maiden is playing, and the empty schools parking lot is in view. and thank goodness it’s empty [10k words]
Includes: van sex, pervy eddie, masochist eddie, power sub eddie, (he’s in a submissive position, but he’s in charge sometimes. so semi-switch eddie too) eddie has scars from ST4, reader smokes a cig, finger sucking (reader), briefly choking eddie, praise kink, some nipple play, some dirty talk, safe sex, slight exhibitionism, eddie being a dorky metal head
The proof that summer is ending in Hawkins shows in the cool night air. Tonight really is cooler than most nights, which is why Eddie made sure to bring an extra blanket for the van. You’re both sitting across from each other with the 2 large back doors swung wide open, letting in the crisp air and exposing the starry night sky with the yellow glow of street lamps.
Your legs are straight, and slightly parted on top of his, one ankle on each side of his hips. His lean and black ripped jean covered legs are also parted, letting you sit between them as his back rests against the inside wall of the van. His scuffed white rebook shoes occasionally tap your sides as he rolls his ankles open and closed, side to side. He really can’t keep his whole body still at all.
𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 pt. iii ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary: through the days and weeks that pass after, your friendship becomes more complicated, imploding in on itself. fortunately, eddie wasn't going to let you go that easy.
cw: 18+ (minors dni), virgin!reader, phone sex, mutual masturbation, oral (f receiving), fingering/sex/all that jazz, babes, brief use of cuffs, innocence!kink, mentions of hard relationship with parents (reader), lots of teasing and some cheesy angsty with a spice of fluff. if this is all over the place, i'm sorry.
word count: 8.8k — part one, part two
Your parents start to ask about the wild-haired kid who constantly picks you up for school every morning now; it was something Eddie insisted on after realizing that not only did you not ride the bus or bike to school, you’d been walking for the past few years, school more than a mile away from your home–you’d been lying to him for a while about it, but it was harder to ignore now. You didn’t have the luxury of a car or parents that could drive you to school every morning. Eddie was having none of that, even despite your pending graduation, he wanted to make an effort where it counted the most—even with the littlest things.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” You complain to your parents, almost on a daily occurrence, watching as they eye the suspicious change in attitude and demeanor. You were happier, more carefree—it wasn’t completely one-eighty, but it was noticeable, “He’s just a guy I play Dungeons and Dragons with—we’re in the same grade.”
If that wasn’t already problem enough; the constant bickering and complaining from them about how bad of an influence that game was on kids—it was harmless, but the media had created quite the frenzy around it and your parents sucked it right up, spewing it back at you.
Eddie was never just some guy, either, and you wanted him so badly it pained you—it changed gradually, over the past few weeks he’d somehow charmed you even more. It started with the rides, sharing snacks with you at lunch, spending more and more time together after school at his designated smoke spot, watching quietly as he partook in the activities you chose to sit out on, despite how quickly he had begun to corrupt you and nightly phone calls had soon become a ritual.
They were truly sacred.
Eddie’s almost unhinged, the way he speaks to you now; the barrier of the phone giving him all the courage he needs to say what he feels, the deepest and dirtiest thoughts he holds back, always too terrified to say them to your face. It’s not like you cared (even if you totally did), you two weren’t a thing—whatever you had, it wasn’t special, but it was needed.
It made things easier now, having explored each other’s bodies to a certain extent; you could picture him, his hands, everything. You never had an orgasm now that wasn’t caused or led by Eddie, in one way or another. Eddie didn’t need you to confess that to him, it was pathetically obvious.
“Is that what you’re thinking about?” You wonder, voice high pitched and breathless, fingers buried deep inside your cunt, working tirelessly toward your own orgasm. “Want me to suck you off, Eddie?”
He groans, low and guttural—the harsh and filthy word leaving your lips was so unlike you; it always made Eddie feel some type of way. He wasn't sure how far you were willing to go, but he was learning more and more about you each day.
All the nastiest fantasies that you thought about—wanted him to do to you.
“Fuuuck,” He drags out, pussy clenching around your fingers at the sound of him desperately tugging at his dick over the receiver, phone resting lazily on his chest, moving with every staggering breath he took, “gotta get you on your knees, staring up all innocent and shit, those fucking eyes—“
He grunts, squeezing at the base of his dick.
One thing about Eddie, he enjoyed the edging. It was almost a game to him, how quickly he could bring himself to the brink, forcing himself into a full stop, still managing to maintain enough composure to help you toward your own. He almost never came before you. Almost.
“You fall apart so pretty,” You coo, gasping at a particular curl of your own fingers, before pulling the soaked digits out to drag over your swollen, sensitive clit, “love watching you come, Eddie.”
He mumbles a small ‘uh huh’, his mind momentarily elsewhere, mind hazy with thoughts to force himself from releasing too fast.
“Wanna know what you taste like,” Eddie nearly chokes at that, “it’s only fair, right? I mean, you’re the one that got to have all the fun last time.”
“You taste so fucking sweet,” He grits out, continuing his quick, harsh flicks of his wrist, gripping himself to the point of pain, nearly, “like honey, shit’s addicting.”
One taste and he was hooked; it was a drug.
“Gonna come, Eddie—wanna hear you.” You beg, voice broken and needy, fingers rubbing quick circles over the squishy bead, forcing your hand over your mouth as you nearly yelled, that pleasure high sneaking up on you quickly, orgasm hitting you with full force.
And it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard, how easily he just decides to let go, groaning openly into the phone. You can’t help but blush, knowing very well that it was all you—he couldn’t get enough.
“Oh, fuck,” He whines softly. You can hear the soft jingle of his leathered, chain bracelet as it rattles against his skin, milking his dick for all it’s worth. Eddie always makes a huge mess, having learned from his past mistakes that it was much easier to do this shirtless, “I don’t think I’ve came that hard in a while.” He admits after a long silence, still trying to catch his breath.
You giggle softly into the phone, adjusting and pulling the covers of your bed over you. He’s rustling around on his end, cleaning up his chest with, probably, another random article of clothing—then lets out a loud ‘oof’.
“Good to know I’ve still got it.” You joke, smiling wide, despite the fact that Eddie would never see it.
He only wanted to make you happy, it was a crime that he couldn’t see how easily he was capable of doing it.
“Sweetheart, I don’t think you ever lost it.”
You make a small noise of indifference, “I can only work with so much—since I’ve never had sex before.”
He doesn’t comment on it, at least not audibly.
Eddie’s thought about it plenty, but doesn’t harp on the fact as much anymore. It used to be a big, lingering thing between you both—but eventually it faded into the distance, more about how much you both enjoyed each other and the company you kept, how easy it was to indulge in what you wanted; no worry or shame.
“I aced Kaminsky’s test, by the way,” Eddie adds, a familiar flick of his lighter on the other end, speech mumbled by the cigarette tucked between his lips, “then he tried to accuse me of cheating.”
“Eddie—you did,” You laugh, remembering how he begged you for the answers, though, the payment was definitely worth it; Eddie really enjoyed going down on you, “and you’re welcome.”
“Hey, I put in some work,” He defends feebly, “You came twice.”
“Okaaay,” You interrupt, knowing that if you continued down that path, it would be hard for both of you to stop, and you were too exhausted to keep things going, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow. Goodnight.”
Eddie couldn’t wipe the smug smile off of his face the rest of the night.
—
And despite Eddie’s vehement protests, you were becoming just as bad of an influence as he was. It’s exactly why he cancels Hellfire the following Friday, making up some lame excuse about how Wayne really needed his help with something; it was important and Eddie couldn’t do that to his uncle—aside from the fact that Wayne didn’t need him at all.
Eddie was on a high that day, particularly naughty for no reason at all—the quick touches to your waist, lingering fingers his hand rested against the back of your neck, or he’s undying need to press himself up against your back as he passed through the busy hallway—he was at least semi-hard almost the entire school day, doing everything he could to drive you absolutely mad. Unfortunate for him, it had.
“Huh uh,” You shook your head, shoved into the dark confines of the theater room—the others still had a while before they would arrive, but you were determined to not let him slide, not this time. Your hand is fisted in the front of his worn Hellfire Club shirt, his back crowded against the wall, “You’re going to tell them to go home.”
“What?” Eddie balks, eyes wide and hands thrown out to his side in disbelief, “I can’t do that!”
He was still willing to put up a fight.
“Fine,” You say, releasing your steady grip on him. His face quickly morphs to puzzled as he watches you grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.
“Wait, you’re leaving?” He asks, hand wrapping around your bicep gently. “Sweetheart…”
His words linger, the words he needs to say never coming to fruition. You smile sickeningly sweet, running a finger over the wide expanse of his rings.
You nod, staring down at his fingers as they gripped you tighter, “Actually, give me your rings.” You say suddenly, eyes glancing up to him. You half expect him to refuse, but he doesn’t. Eddie hands them over so easily that you’re a little stricken by it, but that wasn’t going to deter your efforts.
You grasp the chunky rings in your palm and pocket them.
Eddie watches closely as you lean toward him, all sense of personal space out the window, lips barely grazing his own, “Now—I’m gonna go home, put these on, and fuck myself with my fingers until I’m coming all over them.” Eddie pales at the admission.
“So, rain check?” You smile innocently, “And I’ll bring these bad boys back to you in a couple days?” You pat at the stuffed pocket.
Eddie would have to wait the entire weekend and that just wouldn’t do.
“You’re so fucking evil,” Eddie complains, the slightest hint of smirk crossing his face. He enjoyed the game, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not. You’d become increasingly more relaxed, willing to bend the rules—though, he was really regretting it now. He tosses you his keys in defeat, “Go start the van.”
You giggle proudly, catching the keys.
Fortunately, the group didn’t care much about Eddie canceling.
—
Eddie still had an edge to him the moment you arrived at his trailer. He wasn’t angry, or mad—but definitely frustrated. The lingering tension between you had been growing by the day and it was finally coming to a head.
Eddie bites at the inside of your thigh in warning, causing you to squeal out in response, shoving gently at his head. “What the fuck?” You ask, vocabulary becoming more and more colorful the longer you hang out with him. “That wasn’t nice.”
“You want nice?” Eddie asks teasingly, face so close to your cunt, just a inch forward and he’d be there, mouth buried against you. It was a dangerous game of back and forth you’d both been playing that day, both of you determined to come out on top. ‘Nice like how you made me cancel Hellfire today?”
You try to interrupt, but Eddie pulls your thighs wider, bordering on slightly uncomfortable. The dynamic between you both was—-well, tense, at times. It was either perfect and quaint and just a means to relieve tension, but other times; it was a dangerous game of cat and mouse, one of you bound to lose miserably.
You gasp softly, eyes following his intense gaze, “Nice like how you made me walk around all day half-hard, knowing that I couldn’t do anything about it?” There’s bits behind his words, mostly frustrated with himself, rather than you.
“Does that seem nice to you?” He asks.
“And you think it’s okay to touch me the way you do?” You ask carefully, eyes wandering to the fingers wrapped firmly around your thighs, digging into the soft flash, “In front of everyone?”
He knew people were watching, that was the problem. It felt like he was making a spectacle out of you; not that it was a bad thing, but you enjoyed the secrecy and privacy within your friendship. You didn’t have to explain anything to anyone—who cares if you liked to mess around with your best friend? It wasn’t anyone’s business but yours—but when eyes started to wander and pry, that’s what was harder to deal with.
You were both entirely too pent up with frustration, but also undoubtedly riddled with sexual tension, ready to jump each other at any moment—still, you weren’t ready. You couldn’t bring yourself to cross that line.
It wasn’t because you were scared or worried—you knew the moment you agreed or caved, it became real, and you couldn’t handle the idea of being in love with Eddie, having such a strong relationship with him, all for it to fall apart because of one silly little encounter that could make or break your friendship. This wasn’t just sex for Eddie—even when he was frustrated or annoyed, he still managed to have all the amount of tenderness one could hold.
“Just—stop,” You sigh, forcing yourself away from him, sitting up in his bed, “I’m not in the mood anymore.”
Things had ramped up quickly since the night at the lake—which wasn’t only Eddie’s fault. You both shared the blame equally, but it was starting to catch up to you; you didn’t know how to handle it.
Eddie reaches out gently, rubbing your knee with his fingers. Even his touch burned, but not in the way you liked. It was all too overwhelming right now, you wanted to hide. “Hey, I’m sorry—I thought we were playing into it, you know?”
“Being mean to each other?” You ask, brows furrowed in confusion. “Teasing, maybe. But, I was never trying to be mean—you remember when we agreed not to tell anyone about this?”
Eddie nods slowly, hands still glued to your knee—you wanted to push it away, but you also never wanted it to leave.
“People watch us all the time—you make it worse when you touch me the way you do.” You breathe through your nose, “Friends don’t touch each other like that, Eddie.”
“Who cares?”
Eddie was on a completely different wavelength, so blinded by how much he cared for you, that it didn’t matter who was around.
“I do.” You didn’t understand why it wasn’t clicking—why he couldn’t see how much it bothered you. That’s why you tried to mask it so hard at school, play it off like a game. Even if Eddie felt the same way you did—which was impossible, because it was. It just was. There wasn’t a need for explanation. You were his friend, but you were also a convenience, at least that’s how it felt.
Despite how kind Eddie was, friend or not, this was bound to end horribly.
“Then what—do you want to stop?” Eddie asks, the smallest hint of surprise in his tone; he didn’t understand where any of this was coming from. He couldn’t understand what he did wrong.
“Not stop,” You explain, “Maybe…take a break?”
Like this was a relationship; you were very well aware that it was not.
Eddie chews on his bottom lip thoughtfully, quiet for longer than you’re used to, trying to absorb everything you were saying. He felt terrible, like he’d pushed you too far. But the truth of that matter was, he just couldn’t help himself—he wanted to be around you as often as possible, as much as you would let him—but you weren’t ready, and even if he wanted you to be, he wasn’t going to force you.
He’d wait as long as it took for you to realize.
“Okay,” He agrees, his voice soft. “Did you want me to take you home?”
And truthfully, that’s the last thing on your mind. You just wanted your friend, without all the complicated strings attached. Just Eddie.
“No,” You shake your head slightly, “Can we just—-lay here for a while, maybe?”
Eddie always provides just the right amount of care you need, it’s a deep reminder of how special he was to you. Regardless of everything else, he was the only source of comfort you had right now.
You never go home that night and that’s what starts it all.
The fight with your parents the next morning is entirely your fault; nothing but a simple mistake to some, but to your parents—it was an atrocity, Eddie never stopped apologizing, even after they rarely let you leave the house—a month, two months; school, Hellfire, then home.
Your situation with Eddie dwindled quickly in the aftermath.
—
Eddie doesn’t call as often either, not for more than a few minutes—sometimes it’s questions about his campaign or questions for homework; it’s almost like none of it ever happened. You can’t blame him, though—your tone is so miserable that he starts to believe that he’s the problem.
You start walking to school again, as much as Eddie hates to watch. But, he knows your sense of pride—you weren’t going to ask him, not after how badly things went with your parents. You never talked about it and he didn’t ask—he couldn’t.
And you seemed like a different person, most of the time. Though, you still smiled at his jokes—he was calling that a win. And you did get to see him everyday, which was nice, but it wasn’t like before—it would never be like before.
You try desperately to ignore how badly you want to be around him, with him, surrounded by him. It’s the kind of feeling that eats away at you and makes you feel small. There were times when you wanted to reach out and grab his hand, just hold a part of him—but even that felt foreign now.
So when it does happen, it’s a shock to your system.
Everyone’s saying their goodbyes before the illusive Winter Break, talking about their big plans—but none of it really matters to you.
You parents always go on some big extravagant getaway around their anniversary—which you didn’t mind, it was actually sweet, seeing two people that were still so head over heels for each other; sweet enough to make you sick, in some regards. But, it meant you spent most of your time cooped up alone in your house, with nothing to do, no one to hang out with—it was lonely and you hated it.
“Princess,” The word tugs at your heart, a flood of memories hitting you at once, “any big plans for the holiday?”
You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Not a single one.” You tell him, watching as he leaned his shoulder against the wall beside you, leaned closely into your space—not enough to make you want to back away, though you’re not sure you would even if he did move closer. “Just a big, boring, empty house to myself for two weeks—my own personal hell.”
“That’s the perfect time to throw a total rager, you know.” He’s joking and it does make you laugh, but he can still see that something is clearly off.
“What about you?” You ask curiously, “Did you and Wayne manage to put the Christmas tree up before Christmas Eve this year?”
“Surprisingly—yeah,” He says through a short, chortled laugh. “Right after Thanksgiving, actually. You’d be proud.”
Your smile is forced, pulled together in a tight line.
He doesn’t ask, doesn’t even think twice, before pulling you to his chest, your arms wrapping him out of instinct, tugged snugly underneath his jacket, the warmth of his skin radiating through his thin raglan shirt.
“I’m sorry.”
Eddie apologizes too much and it’s a horrible habit.
“It’s okay, Eddie.” You say softly, squeezing him just a bit tighter, forcing yourself to remember this moment; it was the only recent memory you had of being close to him, you weren’t going to let yourself forget it.
It’s the first time he’s heard you say his name in a while; less condescending than usual, more endearing and genuine. He knew you meant it—he knew you were okay, but it still didn’t help that he was fighting every day to not just admit everything to you—it wasn’t what you needed, not right now.
Besides, he wasn’t sure if you would even care. It had been so long, why would any of it matter now?
—-
And by now, no one ever calls you but Eddie. So when the phone rings, it’s an automatic: “Yeah?” Through a voice sick with last night’s sleep, the rising sun peeking through your window.
“Are you busy today?” His voice is incredibly chipper for as early as it was—which, you weren’t even sure of the time.
“Eddie—what time is it?” You ask slowly, rubbing at your eyes, blurry with sleep.
“Seven.”
“In the morning?” You ask incredulously, head slumping against the pillow. “If it’s about the campaign, you can call me later.”
“No, no,” He rushes out, feeling the impending click he was about to receive, thus ending his chances at saying what he wanted to say; the whole reason he had even called in the first place, “It’s not that.”
It’s been two weeks since he’s talked to, seen you, it all felt too strange. The jackhammering beat of his heart behind his ribcage is enough to scare him out of saying anything, but he knows if he doesn’t get it out now, he’ll never be able to.
And maybe he should’ve called later, regretting having woken you up—and always lessen the time he had to feel dejected if you actually rejected him; he couldn’t tell where your head was at anymore, not that he really could before.
The silence that lingers is enough of a clue, triggering you to speak before Eddie does, “Did you want to come over?” You ask suddenly—it dawns on you that he’s never even been in your home. You knew the inside of his trailer like that back of your hand—it was cozier than your own home, more personal. The endless wall of mugs that Wayne loved to talk about, the littered baby pictures of Eddie strung around the place, always being held by a much younger Wayne—there was love there; complete opposite from what you felt at home.
Old you would’ve been terrified out of your mind to sneak a boy into your home—but at this point, you can’t be bothered to care. It’s almost like your parents were asking for it, leaving you alone like this; and if this was how you went out, you’d be content with it. Though, they were several miles away, so, there was no harm in trying.
“Uh, yeah—yeah, sure.” Eddie tries to reply calmly, lamely hiding his immediate eagerness.
“Good,” You smile, “Bring snacks.”
Eddie spends almost twenty minutes fighting an internal battle over Twizzlers or chocolate, because for the life of him—he can’t remember which one you like more. He buys both.
—
When he does finally arrive, he’s standing at the door with his trademark grin, bags held out beside his head and it’s almost like none of all that bad shit ever happened.
“There any Twizzlers in those bags?” You ask suspiciously, almost like he’d lose his free pass inside if there weren’t
“I knew it!” He laughs, gently tossing the bag in your direction. “I also got those little chocolates you like, the tiny ones wrapped in foil and—“
A kiss on his cheek is the last thing he’s expecting, before being promptly pulled past the threshold of your front door.
He’s confused, eyeing you like you’d grown a second head.
“A kiss for the kisses, right?” You say coyly, “I’ll still pay you back, don’t worry.”
“Oh, no—no, it’s fine.” Eddie says, very adamant in his refusal, “It was just pocket change, I’m not worried.”
A silence settles over you both, leading him to the large couch in your living room. He’s never been in a house so spacey, not squeezed and filled to the brim with furniture.
“I won’t say no to kisses, though.”
It was so easy to settle into old habits.
You laugh to yourself, placing the snacks on the small table set in the center of the room. “All out of those now too, unfortunately.”
Eddie’s dressed so casually it almost shocks you—a secondhand sweater that was definitely Wayne’s at one point or another, worn at the collar and a muted black that has been run through the washing machine one too many times, despite the tag's insistent warning to hand wash only—matched with a pair of ripped black jeans and his favorite Reeboks. But now he’s just standing there, shuffling from foot to foot awkwardly.
He wouldn’t let anyone else catch him like this. They’d be dead the moment they saw him. Especially with the way he tucked his hair behind his ears, you could swoon at the sight—but you knew well enough to keep your composure.
And comparatively, you were dressed in something similar, opting for sweatpants rather than jeans, choosing to be huddled up on the couch by the fireplace tucked in the wall of your living room—Hawkin’s winters were brutal.
“Sit,” You motioned toward the couch, shoving a continuously replayed copy of Risky Business into the VHS player, “stop acting so weird.”
He quirks any eyebrow at the movie choice, toeing off his shoes to rest his feet atop the table, arm slung over the back of the couch, “That one, really?”
“Oh, fucking can it, Eddie.” You warn, tossing the cardboard cover to the ground and starting the movie.
Eddie huffs a short laugh, his gaze following you until you’re placed opposite of him, pointedly putting enough space between you both—neither of you needed the mixed signals.
Though, you were the one that invited him over in the first place. There wasn’t any real reasoning behind it—you missed him, that was it. It didn’t matter that you were desperately in love with the boy.
He hits the side of your foot with his own sock covered one, tossing you the bag of snacks. Stubbornness be damned, you were still going to enjoy the sweets he bought for you.
When he sneaks his hand into the bag of chewy red ropes, you almost gasp, watching as he brings the candy to his lips and pulls, yanking off a small piece.
“What are you doing?” You ask, watching Eddie’s eyes peek over at you.
This man has never touched a Twizzler in his life and decided to start now?
“Eating?” Wasn’t it obvious? He takes another small bite. He’s clearly putting some force behind the swallow.
“You hate Twizzlers.” You remind him, pulling the candy from his hand.
“But you love them.” He offers, like it’s a cure all.
“Oh, sweetheart,” You chuckle fondly, shoving the bags to the side, “I have popcorn and drinks—you don’t have to put yourself through that much misery to hang out with me.”
The smile that Eddie cracks is a win for you.
“Thank god,” He sighs in relief, “Would you mind?”
After all is said and done, he’s sitting even straighter, digging into the bowl of popcorn like a man starved. You try not to think about it; how easily he would’ve suffered through something so easily fixed, just to be around you. And he could’ve easily bought something for himself, but he was so focused on what you’d wanted that he forgot entirely.
—
Candy forgotten, you’ve both got your hands shoved into the bowl of popcorn, eating absently through random questions:
“What about Tom Cruise?” Eddie asks curiously, going down his long list of compiled men that he knew you had to be attracted—at least one.
“Mmm, no.” You disagree, shaking your head furiously. He chuckles at the face you make, mocking the way your nose scrunches up in disgust.
“Yeah, I didn't think so.” He agrees. “Doesn’t seem like your type.”
“My type?” You ask, curiosity peaked. “Oh, honey—do tell. What is my type then?”
If Eddie is bothered by the endearment, he doesn’t show it.
He shrugs; not wanting to answer the question outright. He was the one who brought it up, so of course you were going to press him on it. You couldn’t recall ever having a type—aside from Eddie, but that had nothing to do with how he looked, not that he wasn’t already beautiful in his own right, but you can remember a time you’ve ever felt so pulled toward someone because of the way they looked; it was impossible.
“Uh, guys with long hair, you know.” He explains, hands moving animatedly as he talks, motion at his own hair. “Really good at guitar, killer music taste—“
You see what he’s trying to do, but you’re not letting him off that easily.
“Oh yes—Eddie Van Halen is pretty cute, now that I think about it.” You make a thoughtful face, bottom lip jutting out as you pondered, but the only person you really had in mind was your Eddie.
And Eddie has those sick, puppy dog eyes at the sudden admission, thinking you’ve missed the point completely.
“But, I guess my Eddie isn’t so bad either.”
It doesn’t immediately register with your own brain when you say it, a mindless thought slipping through your mouth unfiltered.
His eyebrows skyrocket to the ceiling, watching your cheeks blush the deepest shade of red. You face feels hot, your body feels hot, and you really can’t believe you just fucking said that.
“I mean—“ You fumble through your words, deciding on a lame, “You know what I mean.”
Eddie doesn’t say anything, grin growing wider on his face—savoring in your slip up.
“Shut up.” You shove him, placing both your hands against his chest in an effort to throw him—wipe the stupid smile off his face, “Shut your face up right now or I swear to—“
Eddie’s hands grip the length of your wrists, wrapping around loosely, but it’s enough to keep him from falling back; unfortunately, it pulls you closer.
“Swear to what?” Eddie presses, watching you with those mesmerizing brown eyes, even you couldn’t pull your gaze away.
“Eddie,” You warn him, pulling gently at the hold he has on you. He doesn’t budge, “let go.” And still, your voice is too unconvincing.
“Do you really want me to?” Eddie asks.
No. Fuck, no. You want to say the memories flood back to you, but they’ve been there the entire time; your entire friendship with Eddie had been built on trust—trust in each other that there was never any judgment, even before everything got complicated, he was still, very much, the only person you could rely on and regardless of what happens here or after, he was never going to be out of your life, not really.
“Whatever’s going on in that head of yours,” He speaks again, realizing how distant you were—he could see how hard your brain was working to come up with something, anything to get yourself out of what you really wanted to say, “just say it.”
“We can’t.” You tell him. Eddie doesn’t need to be a genius to figure that out, but nevertheless, his grip still remains. “Is that why you called earlier?”
“It feels weird not being around you,” Eddie confesses, “and I fucking hate it.”
He hates that he can’t get you out of his head, as hard as he tried. This was all his fault anyways; turning nothing into something. It all started as a game—and Eddie never really expected it to go as far as it did, but it left him wanting more and more, until he just wanted you. He didn’t want you as a friend, he wanted you as everything that came with that, but more.
He wanted to hold you when you were upset, but still be offered the same sentiment. He wanted to kiss you in front of his friends, without you constantly fearing the judgement—he wanted to introduce himself to your parents properly, and then maybe they wouldn’t hate him so much. Eddie wanted you in every way conceivably possible. He’s never done relationships, they weren’t his thing; but for you, he wanted it.
And what started of as a silly, stupid little crush he had on you in the beginning, even before he made those choices on the phone, it was always there—but, it had grown out of control.
“I know,” You reply quietly, “I miss you—it, everything.”
You don’t elaborate, but Eddie knows.
“I’m sorry my parents hate you,” Eddie watches the way you talk to your hands and his grip loosens, hands settling on the side of your thigh, where your leg rested against the couch, tucked between the both of you, other foot planted against the cushion, knee up near your face, “and I’m sorry that I was so scared of it.”
“Of what?”
“Being with you—I know that’s what you wanted.” And it’s the first time you feel like you can breathe, Eddie however, is now feeling just as small. “And the problem is—I hate how long I’ve wanted it too.”
Eddie wants to say something, but the words are stuck in his throat. His hand squeezes at the squishy flesh of your thigh, a comforting gesture, still quiet as he tries to find the right thing to say.
“And I mean like, being your girlfriend—not just being with you, physically.” You reach for his fingers, intertwining them with your own. He still got his chunky rings on, the jewelry like an extension of himself. “Not that I don’t want that either—I just, I don’t even know where I’m trying to go with this anymore.”
Fortunately, Eddie does—and to put you out of your endless misery, not knowing how to make the doubtful thoughts stop, he kisses you.
It’s not long or drawn out, either—it’s short and sweet and exactly what you need in that moment.
“I’m not asking you to label anything,” Eddie explains, “I just want to be able to kiss you whenever I want, even if it’s in front of people we know.”
And it shouldn’t make you laugh, but it does.
“Or hug you, at least. We haven’t been friends for a while, princess—I think that’s pretty fucking obvious.”
Blatantly, in fact.
Eddie didn’t care about labels. He cared about you.
—
He does kiss you square on the mouth the first morning back at school another couple weeks later, for all of your friends to see—and you really can’t help yourself either, going back in for a second kiss when you realize just how mortified they all look; maybe it wasn’t all so bad. Your parents however, that was a different situation.
It was another obstacle to tackle at another time—maybe never, if it was up to you. Either way, it’s put on the back burner for the sake of your sanity, because there was no other outcome in sight aside from literal house arrest—it was exactly what happened last time.
And while you could easily disagree and pull the adult card, it was easier to ignore it for now. You enjoyed the blissful ignorance for what it was, no need to ruin the one good thing in your life.
“Are we still on for tonight?” Eddie asks, jacket tossed over his shoulder lazily. You nod, a cheeky grin spreading across your face.
“They think I’m spending the night with Robin, so we’re in the clear.”
You owed Robin for the rest of fucking eternity for this.
“You know, you could just tell them.” He offers, like it’s the simplest solution in the world. Tell them, risk being disowned, grounded until graduation—all out of love, they promised. But really, it was just another way to control you. It was never that simple.
“You’re so cute,” You reply, patting softly at his chest, “but no.”
And things fall back into place easily with Eddie, spread out over his lap on the old couch in his trailer, knees bracketing his hips. He’s playing with the front of your shirt, pulling at the tacky design that was falling from the cloth—
He thinks the first glide of your hips is a mistake, adjusting yourself on his lap more comfortably, until you do it again. And he’s been so deprived that he can’t find it in him to stop you, hands falling to your waist in defeat, gripping loosely.
“Don’t stop,” He breathed out, head falling against the back of the couch, mouth hung open partly as his eyes connected with the spot where your hips were working tirelessly, “please, don’t stop.”
You don’t know what brought it out of you; maybe it was the lack of physical touch for so long, or maybe you had just been lonely—regardless it’s the type of pleasure you find yourself getting lost in, barely in control of your own body.
Reaching for his hand, you guide him to cup over your clothed cunt, the barely there press of his palm enough to drive you insane. “Want you to fuck me, Eddie.”
“You serious, princess?” He asks softly, eyes half lidded but still locked on you, on your intertwined hands where they rested against your body. “We don’t have to—you know I’ll always wait until you’re okay with it.”
“I wouldn’t be telling you that if I didn’t want to.” He’s so precious it hurts, the way his smile stretches across his face; the same type of smile he has when he’s two blunts in and gone for the night, it’s a similar high, being with you.
—
Eddie closes the door to his bedroom with a soft click, immediately bounding for the bed, crawling his way toward you until he’s right over you, forcing himself between your legs carefully, swinging them up and over his hips until you’re clinging to him.
He kisses at the side of your stomach playfully, biting the tender flesh. You gasp softly, surprised by the nip. “Wanna try something?” Eddie asks suddenly, the idea popping into his head before he can force it out.
“Should I be worried?” You ask quizzically, watching as he pushes away from you, leaning toward the metal cuffs hanging from his wall. Your eyes widen in disbelief—and it’s not like you didn’t know he had them, they stuck out like a sore thumb, but Eddie also never made it a point to talk about them. Your innocent mind always assumed it was just decoration; odd choice, but you weren’t in any place to judge.
“Hey—only if you want to,” Eddie reminds, placing them in your hand for your own curiosity. They’re definitely real, cold and hard to the touch—you pull at the long chain that connects them, “it’s safe and I can always take them off if you don’t like it.”
And you couldn’t help how badly you wanted to see what it was all about, handing them back to Eddie with an eager nod. Eddie’s smile is warm, his touch gentle as he binds your hands in the contraption, leaning you back until your arms are resting over your head—your panties come next, lifting your hips in assistance as he slides them down your bare legs.
“This seems counterintuitive,” There’s too much slack to your wrists, a little constrained, but still moveable—it defeats the purpose.
“I usually don’t use them like that,” Eddie points out, a smug look on his face. He doesn’t want to elaborate, mostly because talking about other sexual encounters in the midst of another didn’t seem like the best idea, but they way your face widens in embarrassment, cheeks flushing a light shade of pink—it almost makes him want to explain, “I guess I’m trusting you to keep them up there for now—no touching, yeah?”
You giggle softly, watching Eddie crawl backwards until he’s settled between your legs, hands gripping the back of your thighs to push them apart and wide—and god, he’s missed this.
The first swipe of his tongue is long, hot, a trail of saliva up the seam of your pussy. You’d never get over how easily Eddie could work you up. He sucks delicately at your sensitive clit, using the grip he had on your legs to force you to squirm a little, his thumbs digging into the apex of your thighs.
The chains jingle slightly, instinctively spreading your arms apart at the motion. “Hey, not fair.” You gasp out, savoring in the way Eddie laughs against your cunt, mumbling a muffled, “That’s the point.”
Either way, it effectively shuts you and your rambling thoughts up, moaning unabashedly at the way Eddie worshiped you, the squelching sounds of your wetness the last thing you were worried about. His fingers rub along your folds teasingly, causing you to tense slightly. Eddie senses your nerves, pulling away to look at you.
“I’ll go slow,” He assures you, “Just be vocal with me, alright?”
Words—yeah, those were good. If only you could come up with some.
And the first dip of his finger is light, barely a pressure as he rubs it into your slick, wetting his finger. And it’s not like you’ve never had a finger inside of you before—they had been your own, of course, and that was precisely the problem. His middle finger slides in easily, not much resistance, but the stretch is nice.
He’s slow and attentive, watching the way your face scrunches in pleasure when he crooks his finger a certain way or rubs his tongue against your clit teasingly; he’s trying to drag this out, give you the time you need, but you really can’t handle it.
“More,” You beg, too aware of your lack of being able to touch him. You wanted to bury your hands in his curly mess of hair and press him into you; force him to give you exactly what you want, “want more, Eddie.”
The second finger is surprising, his so much larger than your own. “Are they?” Eddie asks suddenly, pulling you from deep concentration, not realizing you’d even spoken out loud.
“Fuller,” You note, hiccupping at a curl of his fingers, hitting something so deep inside of you that it’s almost a shock to your system, “bigger, definitely bigger.”
It seems to spur Eddie on, watching you thrash and moan, desperate as you fuck yourself against his own fingers, letting you chase your own pleasure at your own pace. “That’s it,” He encourages, the soft noises that escape you are enough to have him rutting against the bed, but he’s really struggling to control himself, “wanna watch you come on my fingers, princess.”
All over his rings, he thinks—just as you had teased him before. He takes the moment to tease you in return, “Never gonna take these fucking things off as long as they’re covered in you.”
“Eddie,” You whine out softly, begging, “just want you inside me, please?”
“Yeah?” He asks, his thumb ghosting over your swollen clit, small circles causing you to keen forward, hands struggling desperately now against the metal barrier, “Think you can take it, sweetheart?”
You nod desperately, moaning loudly at his assault on your sensitive bud, orgasm crashing over you like a wave. “Off, take them off.” You pant through the downfall, swinging the cuffs over your head. Eddie works quickly, using the resistance of the chain to pull you upright toward him, letting you out of them easily, like he’s done it a million times before—or practiced, at least. You pull him toward you in an instant, shirt yanked over his head in the process.
“Condom.” He reminds you, fumbling anxiously with his belt and pants. He nods toward his bedside table, “Grab it.”
Eddie’s still struggling with his pants even after you grab the small foil package. He’s just as unprepared and nervous as you are; it’s entirely too poetic.
“Hey, calm down,” You console him softly, looking up at him where he’s knelt in front of you, “we’re okay.”
And he wants to laugh at how stupid he feels—why did you need to be the one calming him down?
“I just don’t want to fuck this up for you.” Eddie admits.
It’s the last thing on your mind.
—
Eddie presses himself against your folds, dragging through the wetness slowly, a gentle, occasional rock of his hips, the tip of his cock sliding up against your clit each time. It took him a while to shut his thoughts down, but once he had you laid out before him, looking at him so wantonly, he was done for.
“Eddie.” It’s a plea, desperate and raw.
It’s met with a kiss; deep, meaningful, the press of his lips distracting you from the sting as he presses into you with the firm, ruddy tip of his cock. The gasp you let out against his mouth is obscene, but you can’t deny how good it feels to be stretched open by him. He gives a small, shallow thrust—a small nod of your head, then another, until he’s nearly bottomed out inside of you.
“Fuck.” You curse, lips sliding against his own in a mess fight of tongue and teeth.
“You okay?” He asks cautiously, pulling back to check your expression. You don’t realize how intimate it all is until you’re staring him down, his eyes scanning you carefully.
“Yeah,” You assure him with a soft smile. “You don’t have to be so careful, you know?”
Eddie lets out a small snort of amusement, rising on his legs until he’s upright, adjusting your legs until they’re skin securely over his hips, the weight of them resting in his palms. “Wasn’t planning on it, sweetheart.”
Eddie knew your limits and exactly what you were capable of—even sneakier than himself, sometimes. So he kicks it up a notch, spewing all types of lewd, filthy sounds out as he fucks into you steadily, hands resting against the tops of your thighs firmly, using the leverage to pull you back against him with every snap.
And it feels too fucking good.
“Thought you wanted to ruin me,” You snarked through the show he’s putting on, not that you weren’t enjoying it. He wasn’t faking in the slightest, absolutely wrecked by the sight of you stretched out over his cock, he’s never been so distracted in his life, “what happened to that?”
“I ruined you a long time ago, princess.” He says through bated breath, hips snapping harshly. “The moment you met me.”
You can’t argue either. It’s all true.
“Some pretty babe like you, wanting to fuck a freak like me?” It’s a redundant question, but the twinge in your heart hurts. Eddie was one of the most self-deprecating people you knew and it was unfortunate, because he was oblivious to just how good of a person he was; regardless of how he carried himself. “Feels fucking amazing.” He comments off-handedly, eyes locked on the point of connection, watching the way your cunt gripped him so shamelessly.
“Stop—stop talking about yourself like that.” You insist weakly, mewling at the pace he’d set, hands moving higher to rest along your hip bone, his thumbs pressing into the top of your pelvis, like he was trying to hold you there—not that you had any thought to move.
“Fuck, you feel that?” Eddie asks hotly, leaning forward so your knees are nearly pressed to your chest, creating an angle that’s almost unbearable.
You nod desperately, gasp ripping from your chest as he starts a rhythm of slow, deep thrust into you. You find something to hold, settling on the solid chain of his neck, watching as the pick bounced against your hand steadily. “Eddie, I’m gonna—“
“Yeah?” He eggs on, a smile splitting across his face, “you want to, huh?”
Never more in your life than right now, actually.
“Look so pretty this way,” He says, tone flooded with adoration and lust, “like you were made for me.”
You nod dumbly, willing to agree with anything now, so drunk on your own selfish pleasure that he could coerce you into just about anything.
“It’s so special, don’t you think?” Eddie asks, failing to keep his voice steady. He’s a mess of grunt and groans, so close to your face you can feel the breath from his mouth, his lips barely grazing your own. “No one’s had you—had you like this except for me.”
“Only you.” You agree, reveling in the groan that Eddie lets out into your own mouth, his grip fumbling to maneuver you closer, less twisted up as your legs fall to his hips again, letting him chase after his own orgasm, your body just another means to an end—though, it wasn’t ever going to be that for Eddie. “Fuck, Eddie.”
“Want you to come with me, baby.” He tells you, guiding your own hand between the two of you, skin against skin and every touch felt like a shock to your body, a live wire of sexual current as it pulsed through you. You wanted to hear him say it again. Baby, baby, baby.
His hands find your face, gripping the side of it gently, slotting his own mouth of yours, tongue delving into uncharted territory. You weren’t sure if you enjoyed being kissed—or just being kissed by Eddie. He was never halfway about anything, forcing everything he had into whatever he was doing.
It’s the best, most heartbreaking feeling in the world—that he feels like he may lose you, even after all of this.
“Eddie.” You cry gently; it’s the only word you can cling to in moments like this.
“You’re okay,” He soothes, leaning back to lock eyes with you. You want to hide, shrink away into nothing, his gaze so intense and strong that it makes you full body blush, cunt ceasing around him in pleasure, “look at me.”
And you do, face squeezed gently between his hand as he holds you, watching you fall apart beneath him.
“Wanna watch you,” He murmurs against your lips, pulling back at the exact moment you feel yourself lose whatever control you thought you had, moaning lewdly into his mouth until you’re a shaking, mumbling mess, “fuck—I’m close, baby.”
Eddie uses it to urge himself on, grip tightening on your thigh as he pumps into you one last time, harsh and deep, coming with his face scrunched, eyes squeezed shut by how hard the peak of his orgasm hits him.
When you both finally come to, it’s a miracle; a soft exchange of laughs as the realization hits you. Eddie smooths the wild hair out of your face, kissing the very tip of your nose—it feels intimate, a flood of emotions hitting you all at once. You didn’t like this boy, you loved him; it scared the hell out of you.
—
“Cuddling?” You ask, watching as Eddie slings his arm over your middle, pulling you as close as possible. “You’re such a fucking sap.”
Eddie rubs his freshly showered face into the crook of your neck, wet hair slapping you in the face. “Does it bother you?” He laughs, leaving small, lingering pecks along the line of your neck, up behind your ear and into your hair, also wet.
“No.” You smile softly, turning your body until you’re fully snuggled into his shirtless chest, pressing your lips to the jugular notch of his neck, just between his collarbones.
“Good.” He says quietly, fingers winding into your hair, caressing the back of your neck.
Sleep hits Eddie quickly, or so you thought, the soft rumble of his snores like white noise, chest rising and falling rhythmically.
And the words hang on your lips, something you’ve thought over and fought with for weeks, months, the entirety of your friendship—you couldn’t help but love him, and even if you weren’t ready to say it to his face, you could say it to yourself, to this small space between you both, huddled against his resting body.
“I love you.”
It’s so quiet you don't even hear yourself say it—until you realize that it wasn’t you. You peer up at him, eyes still closed.
“I have for a while,” He admits, startling you further. He peeks an eye open, smiling at how mortified you look, “but I didn’t want to scare you—“
“I love you.” You say before you can talk yourself out of it, “I love you, too—and not just because of this, Eddie. I need you to know that.”
He does.
And he feels the impending ramble coming, but silences it with a kiss—so deep and intimate that you want to cry, pulling back with tear brimmed eyes.
“You don’t need to explain anything to me.” He reminds you, his voice hushed and quiet in the small space shared between you, “I’m always going to be here, no matter how you feel about me or how I feel about you.”
Eddie senses your anxiety, soothing the worry from your face, thumb smooth over your furrowed brow in a successful attempt to calm you.
“You’re stuck with me,” He tells you, full intention to never lose you, “for life, sweetheart.”
pairing : stepbrother!eddie munson x stepsister(f)reader
(gif credit : @stuart-townsend )
warnings : (18+) this is a dark fic with taboo themes: stepcest, dubious consent- eddie is manipulative and coercive, fingering, grinding, oral (f receiving), degradation kink, praise kink, maaaajor dacryphilia kink, innocence kink, squirting
wc : 6.2k
a’s note : here we go. (credit to this and this and this for inspiration)
He liked you and it was becoming a problem. Because that was one of his things, one of the things that added to his growing list of abnormalities; Eddie didn’t do feelings, not properly. He liked to be an outcast, he revelled in being the misunderstood rockstar in a too-small town. He had everything right where he wanted it. Except when he got you right where he wanted you, he was at a loss. There were feelings festering within him and he felt it when you smiled and he heard it when you giggled, there was a beat in the pit of his stomach and it was a warning. He should’ve known that an angel like you came with a price. Corruption has a cost and the cost was as much as you would become his, whether you wanted to or not, he would in turn become yours.
After your first encounter with Eddie, although you’re not sure that’s the right word to use, things had evidently changed. The air grew hotter when you shared a space, you learned to keep your eyes down to avoid his confusing stares. In fact, you adopted to avoid him entirely because you just couldn’t come to terms with the remnants of your tryst. It was as if his fingerprints were still all over you. Your thighs and your hips, his lips a bruise on your hairline. No amount of showers or baths could scrub off the feeling of his strong and capable hands off you. You weren’t even sure you were trying. His unsatisfied ghost lingered, or was it your own cravings making you dream of him?
With you giving nothing to him, Eddie did what he did best and he took. Stealing little gasps whenever he’d push you into the counter under the guise of “‘xcuse me, princess, just need to get a glass.” as he’d push his whole body into yours, trapping you between himself and the counter. He liked to borrow your wide eyes whenever he’d stretch, revealing that sinful strip of toned stomach, watching with a cheshire grin as your eyes swallowed the trail of hair leading to the waistband of his jeans. He drank in the way you’d stutter when he teased you, liking to drag a faint flush onto your cheeks with his cruel jokes, “leave ‘t to your big brother, kitten. Don’t want you to hurt that pretty head of yours thinking too hard,” he chuckles to himself, partly to his cruel joke and further at your confused scrunch in your eyebrows as you try to swim through the heady feeling his words submerged you in.
It was now a Friday night. A rare one where Eddie was home, accompanying you in the house. Usually, he went out, doing god knows what with who knows- not that you cared. He could do what he wanted, as he so often proved.
The TV is turned down low, the screen flickering absent-mindedly as you turn the pages of a well-worn book. Practically every page is dog-eared from a different occasion, but it was your favourite. Every time the temperature dropped below a certain level you had a routine; get your cosiest pyjamas on, grab your chunky knit blanket, your book and a hot drink. Making sure candles had been lit and the lighting was like bathing in a pool of honey. Everything had to be perfect and this Friday was looking to be written in the stars, that was until Eddie came in; messy hair and chunky leather walking all over your atmosphere.
What used to hold your fascination struggled to keep it, your eyes finding themselves being drawn over to Eddie. His jacket was chucked across the sofa, knees wide as he relaxes into the cushions, his eyes watching the screen. When he came into the room he hardly greeted you. Never even took notice of your surprise at his presence, or your annoyance as he disrupted your peace.
You’re surprised the TV isn’t bothering him, you can hardly hear what it’s playing, surely he can’t either. You’re pretty much convinced Eddie has blown his own eardrums with the amount of metal music he listens to at screeching high volumes. But unbeknownst to you, Eddie couldn’t care less about the screen. He came into the room seeking you out and now that he’s found you, he’s ready to play.
His seat is almost opposite to you, sitting on the other sofa, right in the middle and taking pure advantage of the space. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see your figure shift, fiddling with the forgotten book in your lap. Ever since your last encounter, in the room you’re in now, he knows how to play his part.
His legs are spread. Wide. And you’re trying, so hard to tear your gaze away from his dark jeans but it’s like he’s doing it on purpose; he is. Because when it comes to you, everything Eddie does is deliberate, you’re a game to him so every move he makes is in an attempt to gain his prize. So your step-brother is fully aware that you can see the bulge in his jeans. Honed in on your expression. Every time he shifts his hips, stretching and lounging, adjusting, he watches as you gulp and try to look away. Your thighs clearly clenching under the thick blanket. Desperate for something you shouldn’t want.
He smirks to himself, his head running wild with corrupted paths. What he wants to do to you, what he is going to do to you. When he sees you like this, reduced to a drooling mess so easily he can’t believe anything about this could be wrong. You were carved for his hands. Every tangle was made for him to unthread and sew again in whichever design his twisted ego desired. You were made for him. You can either work it out for yourself or he’ll get you to listen.
Even when he’s nowhere near you, Eddie makes you feel dirty. Like you’re doing something wrong, which you are. You shouldn’t be thinking of him like this. The brunette should not be the faceless body in all of your fantasies. You try to close your eyes but blink them open because even with them closed there are graphics you don’t consent to, but so deeply crave.
But when he moves again you feel weak against the assault. There’s a seat on his lap, saved especially for you. He just wants you to take it, but you never will.
A growing ache. It’s as if when Eddie comes into a room he pulls something out of you and you simply ache for him. In every way, you know how. The need inside of you feels like it’s expanding until you can’t do anything but feel its screaming inside.
“You okay, princess?” Eddie’s voice breaks the shadows. You look up, his face illuminated by the flickering screen.
Your voice fails, “Mhm.” you shake your head as you get up and retreat to your room. Blinking as your vision clears, trying to escape from the one thing that might fix what you’re feeling.
In the comfort of solitude, you pace. Trying to squash down the bubbling feeling in the pit of your stomach. Trying to walk away from the heat between your legs. But it grows and it grows, like vines wrapping themselves around your limbs. If you were ever honest with yourself you’d be able to admit that it had been growing for weeks, ever since the first time. But admitting is too vulnerable and when it’s something as… sensitive as this you can’t risk anything. What about if it was all in your head? What if you were sick and you were the problem?
Either way, you haven’t done anything about your situation. Haven’t touched yourself to quell the discomfort. If honesty were to speak through your lips it would say it’s because deep down, you wanted Eddie to help you. You knew that he would know how to help, but you could never ask so you were stuck in limbo.
Too preoccupied with your repeated steps, you don’t hear the stairs creak, or the door of your bedroom being opened. You only drop out of your reverie when two strong hands grasp your shoulders, tearing a gasp out of you.
“Talk to me, princess,” his voice is sickly as it melts over you. Moving to sit on the bed, one hand trails down your shoulder and grasps your hand, preventing you from moving too far. Distractedly you think that he always speaks to you like this. When Eddie addresses you it’s so often smoothly and soothingly. Usually, he never lets his words wash over people, choosing to drown individuals in his presence, but he knows what you’re like; a timid animal so he camouflages accordingly. He continues, “Tell your big brother what’s bothering you.”
That word. That word. That word.
It repeats itself in his softened voice like a broken record. You stare down at your hand clasped in two of his. The rings on his hand, the glitter polish on yours. With his help he turns your wrist up, calloused thumb rubbing lines on your pulse. And everything in your form is pulled towards him with the wordless command.
You shake your head, “N-No it’s nothing. ‘M fine Eds.” eyes cast down, lightly tugging yourself from his grip. But his hand grows tighter, pulling you until you stumble forward. Now in between his spread legs, heat flickers to your cheeks as the memories of your previous thoughts about your position flow. Guiltiness curdles in your stomach, you shouldn’t be thinking about Eddie like this. You shouldn’t want to be held down and touched in places only you have meekly discovered. Eddie’s fingers, the ones now wrapped around a part of you, should not be the one’s you imagine as you grind against your pillow. It’s all wrong.
“Don’t. Don’t do that.” his other hand cups your face, dragging you down to his eye level. It is impossible to hide, especially when his big brown eyes bore into yours. He knows what you want to say and yet you’re still blindly unaware of how badly he wants to ruin you. He’s so far past the point of no return. “Come on, little one.”
“I need,” you huff, frustration building. Your head attempts to shake in his grip but he won’t let up. He fucking adores watching you struggle. This is only the beginning.
He smirks as your eyes begin to flutter, moisture building at your own regret, “Tell me what you need,” he practically coos “because I’ll give it to you, jus’ need you to use your words, ‘kay?” his own gaze stuttering as you bite your lip, soothing it with your tongue and starting again.
The tears fill up in your eyes, but no dare to fall. It’s fine- Eddie can wait. In fact, it’s a challenge. Eddie is an addict that needs a fix, nothing will stop him from getting you to cry for him, he has no qualms about how much pressure he might need to apply. No worries about how much he’ll have to push.
He manoeuvres you into his lap, gently pulling your arm and helping your legs sling over his. Like a puppet with your strings cut, you rest your head in the crook of his neck, finally finding some semblance of relief and comfort now that you’re in his lap. You’re a ragdoll when he brushes your arm with a soft tingle of pleasure, completely weak as he just feels you. Stroking your hair or your arms, getting close to your chest or your inner thighs but moving away enough that it feels like you imagined it.
You’d almost forgotten his request. The whole point you’re in this seat in the first place. Eddie wants to hear you say it. For a minute, the ache seemed to have vanished, but then you pick up on it building. All at the hands of your brother. You paid it no mind when he was drawing mindless shapes on you but it was doing the opposite of what you had hoped, exactly like he planned. Eddie was working you up. Every touch sent a spark of something into you. Every time you breathed in, smelling his skin, his hair, every heady particle making your resolve crumble. It wasn’t long until the only thing that occupied your mind was Eddie, he tries not to focus on how easy it all was otherwise it’ll be over for him before it’s even really started.
It’s unconscious and completely mindless when you start to rock yourself down on him, only just. Drowning in sensations and all you can muster up is that you know Eddie is there. Eddie will help you, the only thing you know. Help is a weak word for what he’s going to do to you, Eddie himself would probably use the word fix.
“Eddie,” your breathing stuttered and your head comes away from his neck. Eyes still cast downward but you hear his noncommitted hum of reply which makes you look up. He’s looking down too, fiddling with his rings and feeling the material of your top as if he hardly cares that you’re talking to him at all. So you know you need to get his attention. You need to tell him what you want, you need “I need you to touch me. Please”
His lips tilt up, “I am touching you.” He’s cruel. He’s mean and yet you wouldn’t want anyone else to be here with you. You feel so vulnerable and the teasing is making everything harder so instead of speaking in reply you try to show him what you want.
One of his hands was resting on your waist. Lightly, hardly there pressure but every now and again he’d push down, reminding you. But how could you forget? Eddie had a habit of branding you with every touch, it felt seared into your skin the memories of where he’d been. You take the hand and try to drag it down, between the juncture of your thighs. But despite your strong efforts, the hand hardly moves. Drifting no closer to the place you want it and you feel… embarrassed. Caught. How could you have thought this would go any other way than the way Eddie saw fit? This is his game and you weren’t even his opponent.
Before you know it your cheeks are squished in his large hand. Fingers apply too much pressure, so much so you wince and he cushions your pain when he relaxes his hand. He wets his lips, you watch, he speaks.
“Last chance. Tell your big brother what you want and I’ll make it go away.” his face is harsh, he’s losing his patience and you can’t lie and say it’s not intimidating. His big brown eyes which are usually so warm for you are harsh and hold emotions you’re scared to discover.
Eddie is so turned on.
“I need you to touch me.”
“Where?”
He hears a sniffle and his face softens, your eyes are welling up again and he can tell how much you’re struggling. Toying between how badly you need whatever he can give you and how unsure you are. Your morals and your hedonism clashing so prettily; just for him.
When you look at him you just hope he sees what you’re saying. Big wet eyes pleading so desperately with him, he thinks he’ll make it easier for you. Maybe he has a soft spot, he shakes away the thought.
He goes to speak but pauses. Eddie likes to think he knows you quite well, but a lot of the time he relies on educated guesses. The next thing he says is one of those times, except it’s more of a poorly calculated leap. He doesn’t have the pleasure of having a list of everything you’re into, or at least you’re aware you’re into but at the end of the day, none of that really matters. Because he knows what’s best.
“Down there?” his hand starts to drift, toying with the hem of your shorts, “You want me to touch your princess parts?”
Oh. Oh.
After the words leave his lips he studies you carefully. Watches intently as your eyes glaze over and your lips part. Shock, confusion but the main thing he reads so evidently on your face is arousal. And he’s right, you don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life. You try not to focus on who’s the cause.
With a covert smirk to himself, he picks you up, stands and gently lays you on the bed. Warm hands stroke your legs, pulling them further apart enough so that he can lay comfortably between them. The position has you stuttering, rambling to cover yourself and every breath he leaves on your thighs is another siren blare in your head, “We shouldn’t do this-” cut off with a gasp as Eddie places his lips to the skin of your leg, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, you- ah, you don’t have to help me,” kneading your legs with his hands, forcing them to relax and pleased when they obey.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” a kiss to your hip, and butterflies erupt in your stomach, “There’s nothing wrong with this.” pressing his words into your inner thigh, distracting you with his lips as a finger slips beneath the band of your shorts and begins to tug them down. Hushes your whines and touches you more until you’re left in your panties and shirt, at his mercy.
His pointer finger comes up to play with the little bow on your underwear. Smirking because of course your panties have little bows on them. Of course, they’re white with baby pink- he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. “These are cute.”
You flush at his words, the condescending tone not lost on you. But you don’t care all that much. Not at all because he’s touching you and as much as it isn’t satisfying the ache, it makes your head feel heavy as if the thoughts in it are becoming transparent until they’re hardly there anymore. You don’t care what Eddie says, as long as he keeps his hands on you.
He looks up and you look away. Eye contact is a step too far- too intimate. That reasoning is pathetic considering Eddie is literally laying between your legs, staring at your panties and when you notice how blown his pupils are you know they’re staring at the wet spot. But calling it a spot would be too generous to yourself because the material is saturated. You’re leaking your desperation and Eddie thinks if he focuses too much on that fact alone he might come in his pants.
One of his fingers begins a path on the material. He presses meanly into the wet material, tracing your hole and sliding his finger up trying to find that special spot- you jolt. “There she is.”
Your body feels like it’s been set alight by Eddie’s, at first, gentle touch but you burn furiously when he applies pressure. He’s staring down watching his thumb turn you into a drooling mess. Every now and again he’d switch up his rhythm just to watch you gasp and try to swallow down your moans, which are nothing short of pathetic.
Bottom lip throbbing like your clit as it recovers from you biting down on it, no doubt swollen too. You hate how you sound but your embarrassment just adds heat to your fire and Eddie never wants it to stop. He’s drinking down any moan or whimper you let out greedily. Every time your eyes flutter or your brows scrunch as you shake your head it’s like he’s draining an elixir.
You’re grinding down into his hand in no time. Chasing the feeling of your nub catching his rings or the sensation of his calloused hands rubbing tight circles. He’s in awe of you, loving the way you eventually lose yourself in the pleasure, letting yourself feel just how good he’s making you feel. You’re succumbing.
When your hips start to jerk against him, whines breaking octaves, he knows you are close. So he speaks, “Bet you’re not feelin’ guilty now are you, princess?” watching as you blink, registering that he’s talking to you. Wading through the clouds of your mind to listen and curling into yourself as you take in his words. “No, no, no, princess. You’re not guilty at all. Now you’re just being greedy.”
The words have their desired effects; tears automatically well up in your eyes. You’re angry at yourself, furious and humiliated and closer to your climax than ever. Everything is becoming too much, the whole situation being shoved back in your attention. Your hand comes up to grip Eddie’s arm, just as your first tears start to fall. His arm being bitten into by your nails, crescent moons turning red under your grip. Eddie looks down at your arm, which is holding his with no motive to move it, and swallows; his cock is painfully hard against the fabric of his jeans, he likes it when you’re angry.
With tears beginning to pour down his cheeks he gets closer. Leaning into your ear and quickening his hand, pushing it further into you- forcing pleasure into you.
“Come for your big brother, let go for me. Now.”
There was no denying him and you both knew that. You sob as you clutch at him, your clit throbbing and hole crying. Your legs immediately close, your body stretching taught as the orgasm pulls at you. Shaking from it until you can finally breathe, sucking in lungfuls of air and feeling like you blacked out.
It’s as if you’ve been completely pulled apart, torn at the seams by your climax, and now you’re defenceless to him and just hoping that he’ll sew you back together. Luckily for you, Eddie is feeling merciful, maybe even grateful to have seen you like that. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined making his stepsister fall apart without even touching her, just pathetically rubbing over her panties.
Milky patterns are rubbed into your thighs, kisses scattered as Eddie comes up to rest beside you, head level with yours. His smooth dark voice whispers praise to you and he waits for your eyes to open.
“You did so well for me, dove.” welcoming you into the real world.
“Hi Eds,” you’re quiet and subdued and the wet reply has him smiling, making you look at him with a tilt of your chin.
“Hey princess, how you feeling?” he asks, stroking some of the sweaty hair away from your forehead.
It takes you a moment to think and what you find surprises you. As powerful as your orgasm was, the thrum between your legs, in the pit of your stomach isn’t gone. You need more. You shouldn’t and you’re embarrassed because then Eddie would be right, you are being greedy. But the way he touched you is something you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of. And he watches this. See’s the recognition flicker across your face and as quickly as it does he sees you closing in on yourself. The weight of guilty desire drags you under, flashing reminders in your head that this is wrong, that you’re sick and perverted for wanting him so badly. So he asks you instead.
“Has the ache gone away?” you look at him, shuddering as his fingers dance down your bare arms. You ask yourself how he knows but he keeps talking, “I just want to make you feel better, yeah? So I’ll ask you again, has the ache gone away?” his words prod at you, pushing all the right buttons to get what he wants.
It’s a simple ask and a sheepish answer. You shake your head.
“Good girl.”
It’s enough to have you preening, letting him do whatever to your body as long as he keeps calling you pet names. Every one washed over you, melts you further into the palm of his hands. It should scare you how easy he can control you, how willingly you go under. But you aren’t thinking that as he sits back on his legs and his long slender fingers come to the band of your panties and start to pull them down. With rapt attention, he watches as they pull away, showing strings of sticky arousal and the moisture between your thighs.
When he glances up at your face he sees you already watching him. Big blown pupils watching his every move, soaking in the adored look on his face when he thinks no one is watching. You couldn’t bear to follow his eyes down to your heat, the humiliation too much. A physical reminder of how desperate you are, how much you don’t care that you shouldn’t want him; how you can’t stop.
He tucks the soaked white cotton into his back pocket and lies between your legs like before. This time with no barrier between your stepbrother’s face and your cunt. His index delicately spreads you open, trailing down to your hole and gathering some of the slick dripping out. Eddie thinks you’re beautiful.
He also can’t get the image of splitting you open on his cock out of his mind.
Torn between two minds: one half of his mind wants to be selfish, plunge his cock into you and hold you down when you inevitably cry, watch as you curse him and shout at him despite your cunt sucking him in. The other half wants to play with you a bit more. Touch you all over, make you cry for a completely different reason. Maybe it’s more selfish to do the latter, Eddie wants to taste you. He wants to drink you down until you have nothing left to give him and then he wants to take some more. As a kid, he was always told not to play with his food but as an adult, it’s just become so much more fun.
The first touch is otherworldly and addictive. Eddie’s tongue licks a fat stripe up your folds, groaning at the taste of you and diving straight in. There’s no denying how messy he is, the bottom half of his face soaked in your clear arousal and the wet noises echoing around your room. He’s filthy and incredible.
He starts off just cleaning you up, licking up the remnants of your first orgasm. It’s enough to have you writhing, the bedsheets in your fist being tugged on to ground you. You swear you can feel every sensation everywhere. Every nerve ending is screaming in pleasure and you want to do the same. But then he spits back onto you, watching as his saliva drips down and merges with the rest of your juices.
Eddie blows on your clit, enjoying the way you jump and whine at the change of pace. He descends into you and begins to circle the button with the tip of his tongue. The previous orgasm left you sensitive but it’s an addictive slippery slope. Unaware of how much is too much but you know Eddie will decide and that fact allows you to slip further into that mellowy headspace. You have to let him play with you.
Every time he touches you, you let out a noise. Whether it be a little sigh or a whimper, and each one Eddie wants. He craves to hear you moan in response, completely braindead and incapable of speaking all at the hands, or tongue, of someone you definitely should not be letting touch you. But that’s the best thing, as much as Eddie wouldn’t have minded if he’d have had to push you a little into wanting this, he hasn’t had to. Your hips are winding down onto his awaiting tongue all by themselves. His hands are just resting on your thighs on either side of his head, not moving them at all.
You want this.
And with how badly you want him, Eddie is that much more desperate to have you finish. He wants to make you come again and again and again. Until you’re numb but overstimulated. Crying uncontrollably and seeking comfort from him despite him being the cause of it all. And by the look of it that will happen in no time.
With Eddie’s tongue dancing around your cunt, bullying your clit and sucking it harshly into his mouth, your second climax is chasing you. Eddie doesn’t bother asking if it feels good, he knows from your bordering obscene moans and the way your hand is fighting itself to sink into his hair. As always, Eddie makes the decision for you.
Speeding up the movement of his tongue he grabs your hand and moves it to his hair. He smiles when you can barely get out an airy “Thank you,” and sucks your throbbing bud into his mouth. You come forcefully into his open lips. Tears adorning your heated cheeks once more as you grip and tug at the messy mane of curls below you. Grinding against his tongue until everything in you falls limp.
The second orgasm is more powerful than the first but fizzles out quicker. Your head pushes into the pillow and your hips try to escape his hands. Running away from the pleasure he’s laying on you despite your orgasm fading. He lets you run, lets you catch your breath because he’s still revelling in it all. You watch as he licks his lips, eyes rolling dramatically at the taste of you, it makes your overwhelmed clit twitch.
His lips part and he smiles. Bright teeth make an appearance as he crawls up your body, hovering over you with his arms on either side of your head. Your eyes blink open slowly, taking him in with unabashed interest. You trace the constellations of freckles on his cheeks, the flecks of honey in his eyes. Utterly fucked out and uncaring of how confident your gaze is.
“Can I have a kiss, please?” your voice cracks halfway through but you’re not even entirely sure you said anything at all, you feel not completely there. But you’re looking at Eddie and you just want him. At that moment you aren’t thinking about who he is.
“Look at you, bein’ a good girl and asking for what you want, hm?” his nose nudges yours. You tilt your head, chasing his lips. “Of course you can have a kiss, dove.” he leans down and captures your lips.
It’s not as poetic as everything falls into place once his lips meet yours. But it is everything you hoped it would be. Eddie is a good kisser, he traces your lips and parts them with his tongue, demanding permission which you of course grant. Opening up your mouth for him, his large hand cradles your face and moves you how he wants.
It’s slow and messy. His tongue moves like water and teases your own. You’re chasing everything he’s giving you, your head feels like it’s underwater, every sense is smudged in Eddie. There is no clear cut between the two of you, his body moulds over yours and turns to the side, your leg follows him and lays across his. Tangled in each other, not wanting to separate even to breathe.
Eddie feels you dissolve into his hands. Holds you tighter as you abandon everything to heed him. There’s a surge of power he feels inside. He knows that you’re in too deep now. You can’t leave him after today- he won’t let you. In a couple of hours when you come back to yourself and start to think logically you’ll be overridden by guilt and shame, you’ll need someone more than ever. If Eddie is going to break you down he needs to be that person for you. But he’s not ready for the fun to be over yet.
So caught up in tasting Eddie, tasting yourself on Eddie, you aren’t aware of his hands moving. Coming to the apex of your thighs and dipping into your slick, which is still leaking out of you messily. You break away from the kiss just as two of Eddie’s fingers plunge into you.
“Oh fuck-” you gasp, you try to escape but Eddie’s other hand just grips you tight.
“Don’t run from it,” he hooks his fingers and begins to plunge in and out of you. Even when he does it slow you can hear the wet sounds coming from you, which Eddie bites back a groan at. “You see how easy two of my big fingers went in?” cradling your face in his hand so you can’t break eye contact. “Listen to yourself.” he commands and you want to cry,
“Eddie ‘s embarrassing.” your tone is whiny it treads on Eddie’s patience. Trying to shake your head out of his grip only makes him crush his fingers further into your cheeks until the tears are springing into your eyes again.
“Embarrass yourself for me then.”
It’s impossible to ignore the feeling of his fingers rubbing against that delicious sweet spot inside of you. And its suicide to disobey, so you listen. You listen clearly to the sloshing sounds coming from your cunt. The dripping shlick of his fingers sinking in and out growing in speed. You even hear your own sobs which are broken by moans and the whole time Eddie stays silent; he just watches you.
The better it feels and the closer you get the quicker the tears flow. Your cunt feels raw and every spike of pleasure is morphing into a stab in your stomach. The coil tightening there for a third time and you’re not even sure you can handle it. Everything feels an inch too much, a fine line between pain and pleasure and Eddie seems determined on dragging you over it as many times as he can.
“See, princess? Your little hole’s crying for me just like you are.” he smirks at your face. Tears pouring down your cheeks and eyes clenched shut in his grip. There is no hiding your emotion from him. It turns him on to see you like this, broken and held together by him.
It must be quite the image; Eddie’s ringed fingers dripping as they thrust in and out of you, his hand holding your face which is wrecked by tears. His rings are caked in your slick, your pillow and his hand is wet from your tears. An image of lost innocence, or ruined.
The worst thing is the cause of your orgasm. The fact that by one simple move Eddie has you shattering around his crooked fingers. When Eddie leans down to your face and you feel his tongue swiping up your cheek- tasting your tears.
Like an explosion, you detonate. Squirting onto the bedsheets and onto Eddie’s arm, practically convulsing as Eddie’s fingers work you through your orgasm until you have nothing left to give. It’s pulling and dragging every sensation from your body, you feel everything. Your throat scratched raw from crying. Violent aftershocks rocking your figure as Eddie removes his fingers and sucks them clean. At this point you’re completely out of it, you don’t think you could come again for a week. Floating in an unknown headspace, but feeling safe as you’re cuddled by the brunette.
Eddie never expected you to squirt, he’s not even sure you’re aware that you did. But he does know that he has never needed to fuck you more. He needs to feel you squirt around his cock because you can’t handle the pleasure.
“You gonna let me inside?” taps your cheek to get your attention. Your eyes are unfocused and rolling, mouth open and tongue lolling. Eddie feels a wave of something, something he doesn’t want to identify, seeing you like this. He almost wants to protect you, you’re so weak and pathetic and so vulnerable. It’s a shame that it’s men like Eddie that you need protecting from.
Just as he’s about to speak, to tell you that you are going to let him inside, the noise of tyres in the drive drift up to the bedroom. You’re too fucked out to notice and Eddie curses as he realises he’s going to have to wait.
Silently and quickly he tucks you up, doesn’t bother to clean you up; partly because he feels no need to and partly because he knows how mortified you’ll be when you come to. How you’ll cry even more and despise the part of yourself that craves him in every way he’ll give you. And once you come to terms with the fact that you’re too far gone, you’ve given too much to him to turn around, he’ll be ready to give and take more. Even if you’re stupid enouhg to try and deny it, try to eradicate your sick desires he knows full well that in the end, you’re going to come crawling back to him. Because who else do you have?
This isn’t something you can talk about to your friends. This isn’t something that will go away on its own or will be drowned out by every coping mechanism under the sun. The only cure is Eddie.
Eddie stands by your door and watches your form. Tucked up in ruined sheets and sinking into your pillow. Soft lips parted as you dream, blissfully unaware of everything he has planned for you.
After all, it’s his game.
a's notes : please REBLOG WITH TAGS if you enjoyed <3
𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 pt. ii ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary: reeling from the night before, eddie's mixed signals lead to new revelations and a spontaneous night of activities that you can't help but play along with.
cw: 18+ (minors dni), virgin!reader, first kisses and more, skinny dipping, oral (f recieving), handjobs, hair pulling, lots of cute interactions, it's a lot calmer than the first part lol. if i miss any tags pls let me know!
word count: 7.7k ♡ part one
There had been radio silence from Eddie the entire morning.
You shoved the dice in Eddie’s hand when you caught him at lunch, roughly slapping them down into his palm and curling his fingers over them, assuring they were squeezed shut. Eddie’s stricken with a wordless response, staring up at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape—his brain is short function behind those sweet brown eyes, realization settling into him as he thinks back on the night prior, hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he swayed you toward an orgasm, all while desperately starving himself from his own.
He watches you sit down, pulling your lunch tray closer to your chest. A baby carrot gripped tightly between your thumb and pointer finger, the crunch deafening in the silence that had fallen over the table. The other side of the problem suddenly dawns on him, pulling your own pair from his jacket pocket, sliding them gently onto the tray, the small clinking grabbing the attention of the entire group.
“I’m sensing some hostility,” Dustin ponders, eyes squinted as he glances between the two of you, “what did he do this time?”
“Huh?” Eddie’s wounded by the accusation, hand pressed to his chest in offense, “Why is it always me?”
“Because, it is always you.” You reply sharply, using the weak plastic fork to stab into the dry spaghetti, twirling the noodles around the utensil but never making the trip to your mouth. It made you want to barf. “Isn’t it?”
“That prank you pulled last year that ruined her science project?” Dustin recalls, watching Eddie’s face fall at the memory.
It was harmless, Eddie had so foolishly assumed, sneaking up behind you one dreary, rainy Monday morning–already frazzled by how soaked your project was– scaring the daylights out of you; thus sending your project, which had taken days—days, you’d told him. Hours of paper mache and labeling, just to get everything right, all ruined in the small span of ten seconds, the sad remnants left to wilt away on the ground. He apologies for a week straight, following you around like some sick puppy, but to no avail. Eventually though, you got over it and it wasn’t hard to forgive him. Still, you would never forget.
Eddie really knew how to get under your skin, through pleasure and pain; the pain of annoyance, to be clear. It wasn’t his voice, or his personality—it was the unbounded lack of self awareness and grandioseness.
“So, what did you do?” Dustin pushes, all of the boys now narrowing in on the both of you.
“Nothing.” It’s simultaneous, both of you glancing up with narrowed eyes, quickly flicking back toward your trays. Eddie shoved a small almond into his mouth, chewing harshly.
“Shit, maybe I was wrong.” Dustin concedes, hands thrown up. “Was it you, then?”
Dustin’s staring at you expectantly, determined to get to the bottom of this obvious tension between you and Eddie—though, you are having none of it.
“Dustin, I’m giving you five second to drop it before I tell this entire table that Suzie said—“
“Okay!” He shouts over you, hands waving around in panic, begging you to stop. “I’ll drop it.”
It’s a low grumble, dejected at how easily he’d been subdued by you; he couldn’t help how head over heels he was for his girlfriend, even talking to you about it in confidence—but you weren’t afraid to use it as armor if need be. Dustin really needed to learn his limits.
Your lunch gets cold, the lingering silence switching from awkward to extremely uncomfortable—you excuse yourself immediately. Eddie, unfortunately, doesn’t follow.
☆.｡.:*
You think about Eddie the rest of the day, despising yourself for it. He couldn’t find the courage to say anything to you, other than a simple nod or acknowledgment your way, despite how often you sought him throughout the day. Was he embarrassed now? You couldn’t find any reason why that would matter, having done what you did willingly.
He’s setting up the table for another campaign session after school that day, the entire trudge of boys piling in behind you, gabbing and talking about their days, all the while, Eddie meandering around silently, placing and displacing certain things. Dustin noticed too, leaning in over your shoulder from your seat—which so happened to be directly across from Eddie’s, traveling the long stretch of the table, you glanced in the direction of the long haired boy, his head turned away from the both of you.
“Did you break him?” It’s a valid question. None of you had ever seen him like this. Ever.
“I told you—I didn’t do anything.” You defend, voice hushed as you look over at your younger friend. “He’s just got a stick up his ass today, he’ll figure it out.”
“I hope so.” Dustin sighs, “He’s really gonna go hard with this campaign today, clearly.”
And it’s a stark difference from his usual relaxed demeanor as he directs the narrative, almost harsh in the way he delivers his lines. It’s almost like he’s attempting to rush through, which is unlike him, entirely left field from what you’re used to.
His fingers are curled around the privacy screen setup at his end of the table, eyes glancing up at you every so often. He thinks you don’t notice, but you’re so hyper aware that it’s impossible not to.
“Come on, Gareth—the lemures are dying, there’s no time for leisurely decision making. You either attack or flee.” Eddie demands, eyes scanning over the few of you huddled together, determine your plan of attack.
“Just fucking fireball it,” You suggest, exhausted from how hard your brain was working to follow the campaign, feeling like this was a losing battle from the beginning, “if we die, at least we’ll finally be put out of our misery.”
“Fine, fireball—we’ll fireball him.” Gareth decides, eyes glancing nervously toward you as he rolls. It’s just enough to give you that edge, ultimately defeating the horrible monster Eddie had conjured up—he smiles slightly, but it’s so faint you almost didn’t notice.
The campaign lasted nearly five hours, yet somehow, you felt energized, awake—but that was mostly the frustration that had built within you throughout the day, bothered by how irritated and distant Eddie seemed with you.
This was all his idea, originally—so how was this fair to you? Why did you have to feel guilty? It’s a partial reminder to yourself to never rely on anyone else for an orgasm, because clearly it was too difficult to even face that person afterwards (it's an absurd thing to think about, but it was true).
And while everyone else had already said their goodbyes, you lingered behind, helping him pick up like you always did, but there was a lot less talking and a lot more narrowly moving around each other, making it a point to avoid touching.
He huffs under his breath slightly, shoving the sprawled out papers into a folder, snapping it shut.
It’s a shock to your body, turning on your heels to look at him—his back was still tense, noticeable through the thin fabric of his shirt, his vest jacket slung over the back of his chair.
“Oh, would you fucking cut it out?” You nearly beg, talking to the back of him, hands thrown out to your sides in anger, balled into tight fists, “You’re acting like I scandalized you or something.”
His head turns slightly, the sharp line of his jaw visible to your eye, eyes dropping down to the floor. “Sorry,” He finally says, one of the very few words he’s spoken to you all day, “I’m not trying to—I just, don’t know what to say.”
“That’s news to me,” You laugh slightly, a little flippant sting behind your words, “If it’s really a problem we can forget it ever happened—“
“That’s not it,” He admits, turning his body to face you, sitting gently against the edge of the table, “I’ve wanted to talk to you all day—everyone is always around, though.”
You hadn’t considered that, honestly—not realizing how often Dustin or Mike trailed behind Eddie, or Gareth badgering you about some homework from the day prior as you walked to your next class, you were never truly alone, not until times like this.
Your lips pull together in a thin line, that nagging feeling of guilt eating away at you—maybe you had been too harsh on him.
“You seemed mad this morning when you gave me the dice.” He adds, idle fingers twisting his rings back into place accordingly, “I thought maybe you were upset about last night.”
“You did interrupt me,” You point out, “over something you could’ve just bothered me about at school the next morning—I was a little annoyed, don’t get me wrong.”
“But, if I hadn’t, maybe—“ Eddie starts, heading in a direction you were already well aware of.
“You’re making it awkward when it doesn’t have to be.” You remind him.
There was too much space between you both, Eddie feeling like he was on the other side of the planet, staring down meekly at his torn up Reebok’s.
“I know, I know,” He murmurs, chewing at his bottom lip, “I’ve never been in this situation before.”
“With anyone?” You ask, like Eddie gave up his free orgasm advice to anyone—it was a stupid question, but it slips out regardless.
“With a friend.” He corrects, eyes glancing up to lock with yours. “But, yeah–never with anyone else either.”
Friends. Just friends.
A friend who’s dick you pictured an awful lot, even before having him describe it to you—and even that feels dangerous to think about, knowing that you craved the idea of seeing your friend that way, stripped down and wanting.
“So, do we just forget about it then?” You ask again, more insistent this time as you approach him in small steps, “Like it never happened, right?”
“No,” Eddie says suddenly, “God, no.”
You tilt your head, pressing for more. Why? Why no?
“I can’t just forget shit like that.” He admits, his hand uncurling at his side, palm resting against the table. It’s a subconscious move, like he’s reaching toward you. “Can you?”
“I can lie and say yes, if that makes you feel better.” You tell him, soft laugh escaping your chest. “But, no—I don’t think there’s any way to just forget about it. Ignore it? Maybe. It doesn’t have to be weird, Eddie.”
“I know,” He agrees, nodding slightly, “Just—can I be honest with you?”
“Always.”
“It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.”
And you sigh a silent breath of relief, because the sentiment was shared. Your cunt buzzed at the admission, feeling something stir inside of you. You blamed it on the lack of sexual interaction; it was a natural, after sharing something so intimate, that you couldn’t help but feel guilty thinking about—still, you were definitely thinking about it.
Eventually you arrived at his side, taking a careful seat on the side of the table beside him, feet perched up in a chair. He was silent again, thinking, following you closely with his eyes.
“That’s fair,” You shrug, deciding to not clue him in on your own selfish thoughts, his hands, his mouth, all of him; all over you, “Did you think I was going to make fun of you for it or something?”
“Maybe,” He says softly, eyes glancing from your face to the small gap between you both, hands pressed against the table, pinkies only a few inches apart. “I feel like I pressured you or something, which wasn’t my intention at all, I just—“
You don’t feel regret—shame maybe, at the idea that you couldn’t get the memory out of your mind, but there wasn’t an ounce of regret to be felt. “Eddie, I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I didn’t want to—it’s okay.”
You swallow your words for a moment, debating carefully on how to switch the conversation to something less debilitating.
“Besides, you’re pretty good at it.”
It isn’t what you mean to say, but it comes out anyway.
“Helping you come?” And the words are so crass to hear coming from his mouth, inches away from you, but you can’t help the way your stomach turns, fluttering pleasantly. “Really?”
He’s laughing and you can both agree that it’s a ridiculous topic to discuss, but neither of you bothers to stop.
You shrug, head tilted up to look at him, “Like I said, I don’t have anything to compare it to—but it was pretty good.”
“You’re so difficult to understand,” Eddie responded with fondness, a small smile spreading across his face, deep smile lines in his cheek making you blush, face warm with embarrassment.
“All you have to do is ask questions, Eddie—I don’t bite.”
Eddie gives you an unsure look, almost mocking in the way that he doesn’t fully believe you.
“Was everything you said true?” He finally asks, curiosity racking his brain. Part of him can’t believe you, it doesn’t seem real. Ruin me, Eddie. I want you to ruin me. It was the single most earth shattering thing he’s ever heard someone say to him.
You nod feebly, maintaining a comfortable eye contact, admiring the way Eddie looked at you freely now, less restricted and apprehensive—his eyes looked warm under the theater room lighting, pools of dark honey, dangerously inviting. “I wasn’t lying. I’ve really never done anything.”
“What about the time you had to kiss Gareth on that dare?”
You snort softly, remembering how mortified Gareth looked in the moment, having no courage to actually go through with it. “You were there! He kissed my cheek, remember? He was terrified.”
“Oh, yeah,” It dawned on him, a burst of laughter bellowing from his mouth—and the thing about Eddie, he always laughed with his full body, the sound vibrating throughout him. He was as physical with his actions as you’ve ever seen among anybody; so distinct to him, “well, sorry.”
“Sorry?” You’re confused, eyebrows pinching together. “For me not being kissed? It’s not that big of a deal, you know.”
“Everyone should get to experience it once,” He defends, hands shoved deep into his front pockets as he shrugs, his head leaned down far enough that his bangs almost obscured his eyes—still, he was looking at you, “it’s important.”
“I’m eighteen—I still have time.” You remind him, “Plus, not everyone has their first kiss at fourteen, Eddie. Some of us are late bloomers.”
Eddie huffs a laugh, seeing the rightful argument you were making—despite that, he couldn’t shake the fact of the matter and what you’d said to him. Had it been true? Was it just a heat of the moment thing? Ruin me. It rang through his head again.
“If it bothers you that much—kiss me.”
The boldness is sudden, but you were over the harping about it—get it out of the way; easily taken care of. Eddie wasn’t a stranger, he was someone you genuinely trusted.
“You sure?” You admire that care he has, leaning away from you slightly to get a full view of your face, noticing just how serious you were.
“If you don’t do it, I will.” You challenge him, feeling your inside burn with anticipation.
Despite Eddie’s unconstrained confidence, he’s second guessing himself during, possibly, the most crucial moment he’s had so far in his young life. He watches the way your eyebrows draw up, almost a—well, what are you waiting for?—type of expression washing over your face.
He shuts everything off; his mind, his thoughts, his anxiety, and leans forward.
His palm is really warm, burning against the already hot skin of your cheek, blushed red with how easily he gave in—you half expected him to back out, stutter his way out of another conversation with you today. And his lips, they’re soft; not like you would expect, still cracked from his constant habit of licking his lips, but they’re plush and warm and perfect as they glide against your own in a careful dance—a balance of sincerity and care.
You make a small noise, a tiny little gasp, feeling the back of Eddie’s hand—the one not holding your face, creeping around to the small of your back, pulling you toward him as he moves to stand between your legs, leaving you crowded back against the table. It’s hard to process while Eddie is kissing you so thoughtfully.
It’s innocent and explorative, but he’s desperately trying not to cross any boundaries, only ghosting the top of his tongue across your top lip by accident when he kisses back too enthusiastically, feeling the way your chest arches toward him, wanting to feel closer to him. You’ve never made out with anyone—if you could call this that, but it’s glorious.
Your hands are still planted against the table, chair holding your legs forgotten, resting lazily against the table, the feeling of denim against denim as your inner thighs rubbed against the rough line of his jeans.
“Well, that’s another box to check off.” You say lightly, taking the opportunity to breathe as Eddie leans away, looking smug at the admission despite his early hesitation. “You really are trying to ruin me, aren’t you?”
It’s meant to sound playful, but it strikes a cord deep inside of Eddie.
“Only if you want me to.” He supplies, taking a small step back, still close enough that you can feel his body heat radiating off of him,
You smile so hard your eyes squint, eyelashes touching at the corners. There was always something about Eddie that you couldn’t quite put your finger on—but maybe this was it. He was a solid reminder that you could enjoy yourself; indulge in what you wanted and not take everything so seriously. He was a needed distraction in your life and you were welcoming it with open arms.
“Give me a ride home?” You ask shyly, poking at his hipbone playfully. Eddie chuckles, grabbing the tender spot like you’d wounded him.
“Your chariot awaits, princess.” Eddie bows, fishing for the keys in his pocket as his arm extends out in waiting.
☆.｡.:*
Eddie’s humming along to the beginnings of another Dio song, kept at a comfortably low volume so it doesn’t burst your eardrums—he knows how much you hate the loud music, despite actually enjoying most of his song choices.
The drive is slow, peaceful—the sticky and warm humid of the air leaking through the half cracked windows; nights like these make you hate the end of summer, the heat nearly unbearable some days.
“The windows still busted,” He tells you, “Otherwise I’d roll it down more.”
“It’s okay, Eddie.” You assure him, pulling at the loose shirt you had on, slipping it over your head—luckily you spare some of your modesty for him, a thin strapped tank top underneath.
It bared a small bit of your midriff—though, Eddie didn’t seem like he was bothered, not from your perspective anyways.
“Any plans tonight?” Eddie asks, hoping to break the silence that had fallen, glancing over at you sparingly.
You smirk to yourself, reading around the context of the question without Eddie realizing. He wasn’t as smooth as he thought he was, clearly.
“You can call me, if that’s what you’re wondering.” You reply smugly, legs crossed over the other, hands resting against your thighs, fingers looped together loosely.
“You—you want me to call?”
“Sure,” You shrug indifferently, “We are still friends, Eddie—we’ve talked on the phone before; if it leads to more…well—“ You shrug again, offering a small, reserved smile.
His brain is not capable of processing this shit. Eddie always had the worst luck in the world, plans always turning upside down on him, things never working out—but this, he couldn’t let this one go. He’s got an idea swirling in his head, but he’s too afraid to say it outright.
“What’s your curfew again?” Eddie asks casually, fingers tapping against the worn steering wheel, the lack of luminosity from the street lights makes it hard to examine his expression, his heart thrumming in his chest like a jackrabbit—it felt like it was going to burst out any second.
“Uh, ten,” You respond, offering a puzzled expression. You quickly grab his wrist, glancing at his watch, “It’s only eight, so I’ve got a couple hours.”
Eddie nods silently, turning down a street that definitely did not lead to your home. His mischievous nature gives him away immediately.
“Eddie,” You speak carefully, drawing out his name, “If this is going to get us arrested you better turn around.”
“Hey, last time was a fluke—“ He defends, quickly skipping past the topic, “besides, you’re safe with me.”
“I know.”
Eddie smiles, turning around a long bend, leading to a closed off wooded area, large lake off in the distance.
“Lover’s Lake?” Confusion hits you, watching Eddie’s eager hands twist the keys from the ignition, bouncing out of his seat and toward your side, opening the door.
“Gotta start your rebellion at some point, right?” He grins, nodding toward the lake.
Your face pulls up, nose scrunched in confusion. Eddie laughs loudly, slipping off the jacket—which despite the heat, he still wore; it was true dedication. But, it doesn’t take you long to fit together the pieces of the puzzle that Eddie was conveniently leaving out.
“Skinny dipping?” Eyes wide, they follow Eddie’s departing figure, jacket tossed haphazardly on the hood of his van. “Eddie—I can’t!”
“Why not?”
“You’re kidding me?” He was so infuriating.
Yet, you still followed him, eagerly.
“What? I won’t look.” Eddie shrugs, toeing off his shoes when you reach the point where water meets muddy foliage. “You’re always talking about how you want to experience more—well, why not this?”
“What if someone comes out here?”
No one ever came out to Lover’s Lake anymore, you both knew that. It was a weak attempt to feign your disinterest, but really, you were a giant bundle of nerves.
“Look—it’s hot as shit, I’m jumping in. You can watch or join, I’m leaving that up to you.” Eddie pulled his shirt over his head, skin stretching over his back—you’ve never realized how beautiful shoulders could be until you’ve seen Eddie’s.
But really, everything was beautiful on him.
“Dammit.” You mumble to yourself, Eddie reaching for the button of his jeans—and you want to avert your eyes, you do, but he’s doing it on purpose; hoping for you to steal a look, a glance—hell, even a peak. It wasn’t like you didn’t already have a vivid picture in your head.
“Last chance, princess.” He calls out, slipping his jeans and boxers off in one fluid movement.
“Eddie!” You gasp, somehow still shocked by his boldness; part of you couldn’t help not being able to grasp what was happening.
He turns to you, hands grasped over the part of himself that you were most intrigued about, your eyes stay locked on his, despite how hard you fight the urge to glance down. Eddie’s looking at you, almost expectantly. You hated how right he was; how badly you wanted to experience as much as possible, yet terrified at the idea.
“Shit—fine, I’ll do it.” You finally cave, Eddie grins wide, turning on his heels to skitter towards the water; the glance you steal of his ass is purely indulgence.
☆.｡.:*
Eddie is underneath the water as you tread through, the cold water against your skin feeling foreign, heart racing in your chest as you dip far enough beneath the surface that enough of your breasts are covered, your hair sticking against your skin from the water splashing back in your face.
“How does it feel?” Eddie asks suddenly, heading popping above the surface, pushing his wet hair away from his face.
It’s strange, not having half of his hair obscuring his face. You smile, though your tone is still entirely deadpan and serious.
“Cold.”
“Not the water,” He laughs, flicking a droplet at your face, “your heart’s racing, isn’t it?”
You nod sheepishly, eyes wandering toward the shore. It was dead, dark, not a car or person in sight. You had nothing to worry about, yet somehow, you couldn’t help but worry—though, it was all mostly harmless.
“We’re safe.” He assures you, wading closer. “Here,” He takes a handful of water and pours it over your hair, wetting the rest of what wasn’t submerged in the lake, “that’s better.”
Your lips purse at the water that drips down your face, eyes squinting at Eddie’s expression; the smugness was evident.
“You’re enjoying yourself too much.” You point out, shoving his hand away gently. “How often do you do this?”
Five, ten, maybe a hundred times, no doubt.
“Never,” Eddie admits, “this is the first time.”
Your hands surface to push his shoulder, a little rougher than you intended. “Then how do you know this is safe?”
He senses your panic, grasping your elbow, his fingers settling in the dip of it, adjusting you to look toward his now abandoned van. “Look,” He points out a particular bend in the forest, a place that looks clear enough but still gives a decent view of the water, “I come out here at least once a week, just to smoke—Wayne hates the smell in the trailer, so, I try to improvise. Either way—no one ever comes out here anymore. Well, aside from me and a few homeless people, but I promise. We’re completely safe.”
You sigh, that small tinge of doubt in your stomach starting to dissipate, still hyper aware of his burning touch, even through the bitter cold of the water.
“You’re corrupting me, you know.” You confess, face turned away from him as you moved away, swimming further from the shore, feet barely touching the lake floor. “Is this all a part of your master plan, Eddie?”
You’re joking, he knows that. He can hear it in your voice, but the idea has something twisting inside of him. Eddie smiles, unbeknownst to you.
“You caught me.”
“You called me the other night with a plan, huh?” You press.
No, he hadn’t.
“Maybe,” He agrees with you, the splash of the waves against your back indicating that he was moving closer, you could hear him, almost predatorily slow. “Does that bother you?”
You shrug. It didn’t, not in the slightest.
“So, what’s your plan now?” You push, feeling the tip of his chest brush against your shoulder blades, just hovering.
And truly, he didn’t have one. It was an idea born out of spontaneity and Eddie flowed from one step to the next, not sure what he was expecting to happen. But, he feels it—the sense of tension that was building, lingering between you both like it had during the call from the previous night.
“Well,” His fingers brush the hair away from your shoulder, touch ghosting over your skin. You can feel his breath, his lips, right against the shell of your ear. You try desperately to hold back the full body shiver that runs through you, “want to check another box off your list?”
His forwardness is an act, a mask to cover how fucking nervous he was. His hands shook as they curled around the back of your neck, but you couldn’t see it—only feeling the dip of his thumb at the start of your spine.
Your head leans back on its own accord, his lips coming into full contact with the side of your face—and he chuckles, you can’t help the way your cunt clenches at the sound, not daring to make any sort of eye contact with your friend, who was pressing himself up against you so openly—feeling every point of him, despite the hindrance of the water. You gulped softly, too quiet for Eddie to hear.
“What do you have in mind?” You finally speak, voice sounding pathetically weak.
“You trust me, right?” He speaks softly, his unoccupied hand reaching around to cover the expanse of your stomach, turning you gently until you face him, “I just want to hear you say it.”
It’s the only thing he cares about—despite the weird mess you’ve both tangled yourself in, he wanted to make sure you were comfortable, the idea of pushing you into something you didn’t want was the last thing he needed.
You nod slowly, his hand creeping around to caress the side of your face, thumb pressed against your jaw as he angles your face to look at him. Say it, his eyes speak, making contact with yours. “Yes, I trust you.”
☆.｡.:*
Eddie’s deliberate in the way he kisses you this time, no fear of having to hold back, it’s full and pleasant and everything you had always expected it to be—albeit, not with Eddie, but you weren’t complaining. His hands are buried in your hair, angling your head up to reach his lips, leaving you to chase them desperately every time he pulls away, adjusting you until you’re pressed up against, nothing but bare skin against bare skin, the peaks of your breasts surface just above the water. The water ripples against your already sensitive nipples, gasping openly into Eddie’s mouth.
Eddie laughs lowly, pulling back to make eye contact with you, his gaze burning into your own. “Sensitive?” He asks coyly. You roll your eyes in casual annoyance, the smirk on his face growing by the second.
“Cold. It’s cold, Eddie.” And truly, it was. Even with the kiss of summer heat and humidity against your skin, the water was nearly freezing. “Want to tell me what you have planned so we can move this along—maybe somewhere out of the water?”
“How do you feel about me going down on you?” He asks sweetly, almost sickening. “That is, if you’re up for it.”
Did he think you were scared? Suddenly faced with the reality of everything, staring him down face to face, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride run through your body, realizing just how badly Eddie wanted you. He’s never been this sweet—to anyone.
Eddie knew you were special; different from all the rest, in all the best ways. He knew that from the moment he’d met you, set you up in Hellfire and neatly tucked you under his wing, along with the rest of his friends—but you, you were the one who he thought about when he was most vulnerable, the only person who really knew who he was.
“Gotta see if there’s any truth to those claims, right?” You counter, his face twitching up in amusement.
He doesn’t give you time to react before he’s hauling your legs up and over his hips, wading through water until he’s back on land. He ignores the haphazard pile of clothes, despite your protests, swinging open the door to his van with a free hand, other gripping tightly around your waist. You want to protest, complain and force him to put you down, but made some excuse about not wanting you to get dirty—despite how dirty you felt now, being settled down onto the base of his van, blanket already spread out from Eddie’s frequent use of the space for his own hotbox sessions, he even has a couple of thread-worn pillows shoved in the corner.
And it’s not until you’re finally settled that you realize how intensely Eddie is watching you, hands settled at the base of your ankles. His naked, completely bare—and you can’t remember any other time you’ve seen it before; someone so unashamed of their body, taking time to admire your own just as much. You’ve seen his tattoos up close before, but not like this–the small flurry of bats over his arm, or the few that lingered over his chest, now flushed a light pink from how deeply he was indebted in this.
“Sorry—“ He finally says, noting the small glide of his hands up your shins, then back down, like he’s caressing your legs, “just trying to take a mental note, in case I’m a disappointment and this never happens again.”
You let out a gasp that quickly turns into a small giggle, shoving him gently in the stomach. You were guilty, doing almost the exact same.
He’s toned, which isn’t a surprise—he didn’t try to hide it, those occasionally too tight shirts giving him away. His skin is milky, alabaster white and muddled with light freckles, the trail of hair at the top of his chest leading down to his lower abdomen, just at the base of his dick—which, seriously? He had enough to be proud about, but you half expected him to lie during the call, boost himself up; it was all true. Every single bit.
He’s not fully hard, but it’s still enough to intimidate you—Eddie clears his throat unnecessarily, left eyebrow quirked in amusement.
“Are you still with me?” He asks, arms crawling forward to lean over you slightly, body like a curtain against your own. You try not to think about the proximity, how easily you could reach up and pull him to you, feel that glide of his cock against you—just to put you both out of your misery.
“Hey, you get to see mine, it’s only fair I get to see yours.”
He laughs at that, brushing hair away from your face, lips settling against the line of your jaw, a small chaste peck, then switching to the other side to repeat the process. “Any judgments to be made?” He asks curiously, almost teasing.
“I’m not giving you anymore unnecessary ego boosts, sweetheart.” You say with a saccharine type of sweetness.
Eddie doesn’t need you to elaborate, that was already enough of an ego boost in itself. He tries to ignore the way you’re looking at him, so intently; not that he didn’t want you present in the situation, but he felt like you were looking right through him, sensing every bit of anxiety and nerves that riddled his body like a sickness. It wasn’t his first go at this, but with you—he was too afraid to fuck up.
You see the gears in his brain working overtime, trying to jump that initial hurdle of awkwardness—thankfully, you knew just what to do.
“Can I?” You ask, nodding down to where your hand grazed against his stomach, just above the line of his groin.
“Uh—yeahyeah, of course.” He rushes out, watching your timid fingers graze the tip of his dick, gently grabbing the base of his shaft. You didn’t know what to expect, but the way Eddie’s leaning into your touch is a good enough indication that you weren’t totally fucking things up.
“What feels good?” You ask shyly, your hand at a slow, graceful pace as you tug at him, watching the way he’s forcing himself to breath slower, through his nose.
He rocks his hips gently in time with your hand, “Tighter—a little—yeah, that’s good.” He says, feeling your hand tighten around his cock, the groan he forced back down has you lighting up, almost smiling at the revelation of how easily worked up Eddie could get; it wasn’t a wonder why he had a hard time holding himself off.
“Is this better?” You ask softly, “then—you know, your own hands?”
He chuckles at your curiosity, eyes glancing up to look at you, hair already partly dry, his bangs curtaining his eyes. He had such a timid innocence to him, under this light, in the belly of what could be something dangerous for your friendship—but, neither of you could seem to care anymore.
“So much better.” He nods gently, groaning outwardly at the movement of your thumb sliding over the head of his cock, a small pearl of precum wetting your finger; so you do it again. A few times, until he’s rocking up into your hand in earnest.
“Fuck—we gotta stop.” He warns, swatting your hand away kindly, fingers wrapping around the length of your wrist.
You want to pout, like some spoiled child—but instead you sigh, letting him guide your hands back toward your chest. He doesn’t give much warning before he leans in, capturing the bud of your nipple between his teeth, gently, but the sting is still there—quickly soothed away by the flat of his tongue.
“So pretty–just like I imagined.” He admits pathetically, speech muffled against your skin. That was something to unpack for another day.
You gasped, feeling his mouth capture the other, repeating the process before leaving small, open mouthed caresses against your breasts—you weren’t even sure if you would call them kisses, but they felt good. The warmth of his mouth, the wetness of his tongue, suddenly it was hot again, stuffy in the small containment of the back of his van.
You moan, so softly you weren’t even sure he’d hear it. But, of course he does, pulling back with a salacious and satisfied smile, reaching up to capture your lips in a kiss that can only be described as breathtaking.
Friends definitely didn’t kiss like this. Absolutely not.
“Eddie—Eddie, I still have a curfew.” You force through his assailant of kisses, his tongue a small tease as it traces your bottom lip. You warn him again, this time forcing him to look at you.
And friends definitely didn’t look at each other like that.
☆.｡.:*
He settles between your thighs soon after, wrapping his arms around the outside of your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there, spreading you open wide, leaving you almost no place to hide.
You take a long, deep breath—reminding yourself that you had nothing to worry about, you were safe here.
“You ready?” Eddie asks, a bouncy eagerness to his voice, feeling the heat of his breath against your cunt, what once was a dull buzz now a steady pulse inside you, deep and needy.
You nod eagerly, Eddie’s hang reaching up to spread your folds apart, finger dragging through jestingly.
“Eddie.” You warn, or beg—you're not sure which, but he understands. You weren't ready for him to sink his fingers inside you, afraid this would all be over quicker than you both wanted.
“I won’t.” He assures you, just applying the small bit of pressure you need to keen forward, grind against the flat of his palm. It was a lot like your own hand, in a way—but also completely foreign. “Just wanna ease you into it.”
And he does, letting you chase the gentle glide of his fingers against your folds, occasionally dragging over the swell of your clit, your hips chasing his hand, over and over again, desperately.
“Need it,” You beg, propped up on your elbows to look down at him, “wanna know.”
You were dying; dying to know.
He bites at the inside of your thigh, soothing the skin with his tongue, trailing a line of quick nips up the sensitive skin. You make a small noise of complaint, begging him to put you out of your misery.
Eddie doesn’t waste anymore time, leaning forward to lick a broad stripe up the seam of your cunt—even the first touch has you reeling, hand immediately tangled in the damp mess of curls at the top of his head.
You hear the messy, embarrassingly loud shlick of your wetness as he laps it, small kitten licks as he leans forward to focus on the soft buttony point of pleasure, sucking experimentally.
It should be a criminal how fucking good Eddie is with his mouth.
“Ohoh—okay, huh,” You ramble breathlessly, moaning out a sensical plethora of nonsense, noises that has Eddie groaning against you, vibrations like a wave of euphoria crashing down on you, “fuck, that feels really good.”
“Keep talking,” He urges, pulling away for half a second before he’s diving back in, face buried so deep into your cunt that you can’t even breath, tongue dipping inside of you carefully.
It caught you off guard completely, gasping out loudly into the air.
“Fuck, Eddie.” And friends definitely don’t say each other’s names like that.
“Too much?” He asks, his expression worried.
You shake your head fervently, “No—good. It’s so good,” You tell him, feeling the lack of motivation to form words now, despite his prior urges. “Keep going, please.”
And he does, openly groaning against your pussy, the sight of him grinding his hips down into blanket; it was something you couldn’t believe with your own eyes, but had you fighting off the urge to turn him over and sink down onto him, no more harping on the big red sign that said ‘I’m a virgin’—you wanted Eddie to consume that part of you completely.
“Come on, baby, wanna hear those pretty little noises.”
You could disintegrate into nothing at those words, letting the soft, wanton moans that you’d been holding back out, spurring him deeper and deeper into his own chase for pleasure, his mouth less controlled—more distracted, but still fucking incredible. He’s so desperate to come with you, reaching down to grab ahold of his cock, pulling idly as he kept up his lazy pace against the inner folds of your cunt, moaning out as his thumb slides over the tip of his cock, precum coating his fingers, making a mess of his own hand.
He speeds up the movement of his tongue, dragging over your clit relentlessly, using his hand to wrap around yours, still buried in his hair, forcing you to pull tighter. And it shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise—but it is, how easily it turns Eddie on by it. You pull roughly, enough to have him moving away from you, looking up at you with wide, dark eyes; pupils blown out.
“Use my face,” He urges, “I want you to.”
You do, chasing exactly what you want—Eddie eagerly slurping up your wetness, grinding your cunt selfishly into him, the tip of nose dragging over your clit sends you toppling over over the edge. He grips both of your thighs, pulling you as wide as your hips allowed—and he’s still going, overstimulating you past the point of what you can handle. He’s drunk on the sounds you’re making, forgetting where he is for the moment. You yank at his hair, hard enough that he groans out, pulling away from your cunt as you rode through your orgasm, you pulse over and over again, nothing there to satiate that need—leaving a dull ache where you were desperate for Eddie to be, fill you up completely; it doesn’t stop you from sobbing out a broken, “Fuck!” as you start to come down, eyes closing from the intensity of your own orgasm.
When you finally come to, Eddie’s face is scrunched up, nose wrinkled at the bridge. His tone is soft, but forced.
“Shitshit—“ He curses, head still held up by the grip you had in his hair, his face tightening as he came, mouth hung open in a silent plea.
You take a second to catch your breath, “What the fuck?” You ask, the ‘was that?’ on the tip of your tongue, but you’re too tired to finish.
Eddie laughs, face riddled with his own exhaustion. “Good, isn’t it?” You nod, loosening the death grip you had on his curls, smoothing out the hair to soothe the sore spot, though Eddie doesn’t seem to mind.
“I’ve never come that hard before.” You laugh, falling back against the bed of the van.
“I told you, princess—“ Seeing him from this angle should be a sin, face covered in your wetness, “there’s so much you’re missing out on.”
“No shit.” You smile softly, lifting yourself up to sit, following Eddie as he leaned away, reaching blindly for a discarded shirt in the back of the van, watching as he wiped at the front of his abdomen, covered in his own come.
His eyes flick up, noticing your intense stare, “Enjoying yourself?” He asks, challenging you to look away.
You shrug casually, eyes tracking his movements—“Wait, what time is it?” You ask, the watch on his wrist bringing you back to reality.
Eddie takes a glance at his watch, eyes widening in shared panic, “Fuck—five past ten.”
“Eddie!” You exclaim, “I’m dead—go grab our clothes.”
Eddie scrambled, racing to grab the discarded fabrics, tossing them into the space between you both, dressing quickly.
“If I get caught, you’re dead.” You warn, nearly knocking him over at the grin that spreads across his face.
He was clearly too proud of himself.
☆.｡.:*
“You’re lucky I’m a good climber.” You mention to him, eyeing the dimmed lights through the window of your home.
It was either, a.) walk through the door and risk an earful from a pair of worried parents, or b.) find a way into your second story bedroom and guilt your parents in the morning when they ask why you never came home—reminding them that, yes you did; how could they not notice?
Rebellion was becoming a normal theme in your life and you couldn’t hate how good it felt to feel—Eddie laughs softly behind you, parked across the street.
“Oh, are you?” He teases, arm sling loosely over the back of your seat.
You wish you could hate everything about him, but it was impossible, not with the way he was looking at you.
You scoff in faux disgust, shoving his face in the other direction. “You’re so gross, Eddie.”
He does watch you climb the lattice wall to your window, embarrassingly so, flipping him off in full when you’re finally able to slip through the threshold of your room, quiet enough that the only noise you make is a soft thud on the fuzzy carpet floor.
The high hits you later, curled under the sheets of your bed. It wasn’t Eddie who was influencing you, it wasn’t that easy—it’s because you wanted it. You didn’t want the idea of rebelling and doing everything that your parents tried to scare you out of, you wanted Eddie.
You wanted him as the friend he’d always been, but so much more than that. Eddie was always good at forcing you out of your comfort zone, for good, and you couldn’t help that love you had for that fear; of unknown and new experiences.
And he does call you that night, but not for any other ludicrous reason than to talk—hear you, listen to the tiny inflictions in your voice when he makes some stupid joke. He was in love with you, he already knew that—he was just waiting for you to catch up, dawn on the feeling that you had buried for so long, too afraid of rejection.
post-modern, so satanic —> eddie munson x f!reader
summary: you and eddie have been dating for a while, and he notices your interest in his handcuffs. it turns out you really, really like it when he’s mean & scary.
word count: 9.1k
warnings: SMUT (18+, MINORS DNI), no use of y/n, dom/sub dynamics, dom!eddie, mean dom!eddie, sadist eddie, sub!reader, afab reader, dirty talk, degradation (eddie calls r a slut, whore, and toy), oral (m and f receiving) p in v sex, safe sex, face-fucking, handcuffs, traffic light system (r calls yellow at one point), biting, fingering, spanking, choking (ish), discussion of knife kink, orgasm delay/denial, overstimulation, possessiveness as a kink, dacryphilia, eddie’s a mean dom but he and r are still so in love
author’s note: first, this is in the same universe as “no take-backsies,” though you definitely don’t have to read that for this to make sense. also, just because the reader is afab here doesn’t mean that’s the case in no take-backsies. second, the handcuffs in eddie’s room DEFINITELY would not be good to use in bed, but hey! it’s fiction and i can do what i want. third, eddie saying “babydoll” is something that can be SO personal.
read it on ao3!
“What’re you looking at, babydoll?” Eddie asks, voice oozing trouble.
You jerk your gaze back to him, face going hot at being caught. It’s a lazy afternoon; you’ve been sprawled out on Eddie’s sheets for almost an hour as he idly runs through riffs on his guitar. You had been reading, but in the past few minutes your eyes have kept drifting to the handcuffs hanging on his wall. They aren’t new—you’ve been cracking jokes about them since before the two of you got together, hoping that if you teased him about them, you could disguise just how much they interested you. Because they do interest you. Hence why you can’t stop glancing at them.
Eddie waves to get your attention, and you feel your face go hotter, if that’s even possible. “Hellooo,” he sing-songs. “You wanna answer me?”
“I’m not looking at anything,” you lie blatantly, partly out of embarrassment and partly just to see what he’ll do.
“You sure?” He sets his guitar aside, rings clicking against the neck. “Because it sure looked like you couldn’t keep your eyes off my cuffs.”
“That’s not—” You choke on your own words, spluttering as he shakes his hair to peer at you from beneath his bangs, dark eyes glinting. “I wasn’t,” you insist, your voice pitching high with your deception, but when he reaches for you with large hands, you’re happy to be tugged forward by his fingers gripping your thighs. You jolt at the sensation of his rings against your flesh and he soothes you with kneading fingertips and a murmured (and very amused) sorry.
“No?” He asks, tapping at your thigh until you get the message and climb into his lap, palms skimming up to your hips.
“I wasn’t,” you repeat. You have to bite down on your lip to suppress your smile at your own awful lie, knowing that he knows you’re full of bullshit.
“She wasn’t,” Eddie says to no-one in particular, then focuses back on you. “Well, uh—can I be honest here, sweetheart? I’ve always imagined what you’d look like in them.”
