I'm reading this

30 safe space for everyone but not for bigots so not everyone side blog

[obsessedwithitall]

My Masterlist

I used to write a lot, here's me getting back into it. Enjoy 😊

***

Harry Styles

Out on the Town

Eddie Munson

Its Embarrassing

part 1 part 2

Water Under the Bridge

Part 1 Part 2a Part 2b

Why Didn't You Tell Me?

Speak Now

Part 1 Part 2

Stiles Stilinski

Sometimes its Fate

[choke-me-levi]

Could you do prompt #29 with Levi? Please and thank you 😭🫶🏻

Ahhhh yes, our favourite vertically challenged Captain has absolutely no patience for our bullshit. Luckily, he knows a way to get us to shut up 🤭 thank you for your request and I hope you enjoy!! I haven't written anything, especially smut, for like at least a year so I was a little rusty!

🔞Content warning🔞

Smut smut smut so minors fuck off, unprotected sex, a lil mean Levi but nothing crazyyy, desk sex (?), barely any foreplay idk

Also not proof read so if you see mistakes no you dont 😇

29. "You’ve been a brat all goddamn day. I think it’s time I reminded you who's in charge here."

Written for my 3k follower celebration

The air in the Captain’s office was stifling, the heavy scent of black tea and floor wax doing nothing to cool the friction that had been building since the morning briefing. Levi stood by the window, his back to the room, but the set of his shoulders was like a coiled spring.

You leaned against the heavy oak door, your arms crossed, a stubborn tilt to your chin that had been there since you'd questioned his formation strategy in front of the entire command staff.

"If you have something to say about my report, Captain, just say it," you challenged, your voice a low, steady provocation.

Levi turned slowly. His silver eyes were like ice over a furnace. He didn't speak as he crossed the room, his boots clicking with lethal precision on the stone floor. He didn't stop until he was inches from you, his presence forcing you back against the wood of the door.

He reached out, his hand snapping to the side of your neck, his thumb tilting your chin up. "You’ve been a brat all goddamn day," he rasped, his voice dropping into that dark, gravelly register that signaled the end of his patience. "I think it’s time I reminded you who’s in charge here."

Your breath hitched, your heart thundering against your ribs. "Is that a threat, Levi?"

"It’s a promise," he hissed.

He didn't lead you to the bed. He moved with a sudden, predatory hunger, his hands finding the buckles of your harness and undoing them with a frantic, clinical speed. He stripped you down right there by the door, smirking in amusement as your nipples pebbled in the cool air, straining against the material of your bra.

"Excited?" He quips. You roll your eyes; ever the brat who liked to push his buttons.

"Don't flatter yourself, Captain."

Levi's eyes flash with something that makes your pussy throb with want, and he hoists you up, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. He walks you over to the desk, sweeping a stack of papers to the floor with one hand before sitting you on the edge. He didn't give you a chance to breathe; he was between your knees in an instant, his hands gripping your thighs with a possessive, bruising intensity.

"You want to play commander in the yard?" he growled, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin behind your ear. "Then you play the submissive in here. Every inch of you belongs to me, Y/N. Do you understand?"

He runs his fingers along your clothed slit, your wetness already seeping through. When you don't respond, he taps your clit firmly. "I asked you a question, brat."

"Yes," you sob, your fingers digging into the firm muscle of his shoulders. "Please, Levi-"

"Oh, I'm 'Levi' now am I? When you're desperate to run your mouth, I'm 'Ackerman' or 'Captain', but when you're desperate to be fucked-" Levi moves his hand underneath your underwear, slipping a finger inside your now aching cunt. You gasp, a word dying in your throat as your pussy clenches around the digit. Levi watches you with something feral burning in his eyes. "Hm? Something to say?"

"I-I-"

"You-you, what?" He smirks, mocking your pleading tone. "Didn't you tell me earlier not to flatter myself? And yet here you are, barely able to say a single fucking word and all I've done is put a finger in you. Pathetic."

"Levi...please," you grit out as his thumb grazes your clit, making you shiver. "Y-you're being mean-"

"Mean? Baby, you and I both know this isn't mean. Besides-" he moves his hand, the sudden emptiness making you whine in protest. "-the meaner i am, the wetter you get."

You watched, naked and spread out on the desk as Levi removed his shirt, throwing it aside. The candlelight did wonders for his muscles, the shadows and ridges of his abs and the delicious sharp lines of his hips dipping into his pants making you breathless as ever.

When he's finally naked, after what feels like an eternity, your eyes drift to his cock. God, he's got the most perfect cock, and he knows how to use it to make you see stars every goddamn time he fucks you. You begin to slide off the desk to your knees, but he stops you, making you glance up at him in question.

"Normally, I'd never turn down the opportunity for that mouth to do something other than piss me off," he smirks, running his thumb over your bottom lip. "But, I'm not waiting. Not tonight."

And finally, finally, he grabs your neck and kisses you. For a split second, it's soft, gentle, loving, but you cant resist nipping at his bottom lip. He grunts when you do, tightening his grip on your neck.

"You just cant help yourself, can you?" He growls against your lips. "Brat."

You smirk, taking the chance to wrap your hand around his cock, pumping slowly. Levi shivers, his free hand wrenching your leg up around his waist, making you let go of him to steady yourself on the edge of the desk. His tip brushes your entrance, and you're so, so wet that he slips in without any resistance. Instead of taking the time to warm you up like he usually would, Levi drives his hips forward and plunges the rest of cock into your needy pussy in one thrust.

"Fuck, Levi!" You yelp, and his hand that was on your neck now clamps over your mouth.

"Shut up." He hisses, but you dont miss the slight crack in his voice that usually slips out when he's balls deep inside you. "You want the entire regiment to know you're in here getting fucked by your Captain?" You shiver at the thought, pussy clenching around him and he chuckles darkly. "Of course you do, filthy girl." His other hand grips your leg fiercely. You look at him with wide eyes that slowly drift down to where your bodies are joined, and you both watch as Levi pulls out halfway, his cock soaked in you, and slams back in. The desk groans in protest beneath you.

"Mmph" you moan under his hand, eyes fluttering shut as he starts a deliciously fast and deep rhythm. Your hands loop around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

"Can you shut your mouth for once?" He asks and you nod eagerly, desperate for him to kiss you. "Good girl."

He moves his hand from your mouth and almost immediately moves it to find your clit, rubbing in small circles. A moan threatens to spill from you and Levi quickly presses his lips to yours, swallowing your noises.

As Levi's hips move faster, his mouth travels over your jaw, up to your ear lobe and biting it as his breath hitches- a tell tale sign he was holding back from coming.

"That’s it, baby," he rasped, his breath hot and jagged against your neck as his pace turned punishing. "Take. It. Take. It. All. You're. Mine. Only. Mine."

Neither of you cared if someone heard now; Levi driving home every word he said with a thrust that took your breath away.

"Levi! Levi, I'm-I'm so close-!"

"Give it to me, Y/N. Come on my cock and show me who you belong to."

As your legs shook and your orgasm hurtled towards you, Levi buried his face in the crook of your neck, his body racking with the force of his movements. He watched your face, his eyes fixed on yours as you finally shattered, your body bucking against his in a desperate, shivering surrender.

"Fuck!"

Only then did he let go, a low, guttural shout of your name muffled against your skin as he spilled into you, hips weakly thrusting in a late desperate attempt to be as deep inside your warmth as he could.

Minutes passed, the only sound the ticking of the clock, the rain pattering on the window and your ragged, synchronized breathing. Levi didn't pull away. He shifted, his weight a grounding, honest heat, and let his head drop onto your chest.

He stayed there, listening to the steady thrum of your heart and occasionally placing soft kisses along your glistening skin.

You reached up, your fingers trembling as you found the soft, buzzed hair of his undercut, stroking the nape of his neck with a slow, soothing rhythm.

Levi let out a long, shuddering sigh, his eyes closing as he leaned into your touch. The "Captain" was gone, replaced by the man who just wanted to be held by you.

"Tch," he murmured against your skin, his voice a soft, drowsy hum. "Next time you want to mouth off... just remember how this ends, brat."

"Is that a threat, Levi?" You couldnt help the blissful smirk creeping across your face as you repeat your question from earlier, knowing damn well what the answer was.

"It's a promise."

[obsessedwithitall]

Fuck yes

[elegantpaperoperatormaker]

I Don't Want Anybody Else

Gif from Pinterest, dividers by @saradika-graphics

Perv!Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: In an effort to hang out and maybe make some prank phone calls, Eddie shows up at your place late at night. But his intention of climbing in through your window is halted by the shocking sight of you, vulnerable and partaking in some intimate self-care. 

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, phone sex kinda, perv!eddie, panty stealing, mention of sex and cream pies, voice kink kinda, R is described to have an ass that has a little motion to it

Song Rec: Touch Myself cover by Genitorturers 

A/N: Guys, I hope I didn’t peak with Ringing Pavlov’s Bell lmao. Also, vote on this poll pls!! Also also, as you can see, I'm trying to level up my fics. Based on this ask.

Masterlist

Submission Guidelines

Eddie climbs up the side of your house one-handed, taking extra care to make sure he has a good grasp on the vine-covered trellis before moving any higher. It takes a lot of work, and he’s slower than usual, but he needs to show you his surprise. 

Cursing his leather jacket’s lack of deep pockets, he maintains a white-knuckled grip on the device. But it’s all worth it when he thinks about how you’re going to fucking flip when you see it.

Earlier today, Wayne greeted him when he got home from the garage. Not unusual, but what was unusual was the box on the table in front of him. As Eddie got closer, he noticed a large, brick-like item in his uncle’s hand. 

“Holy shit, is that—”

“Yeah,” Wayne croaked, cutting him off gruffly. “‘Least it would be if I could figure out how t’work the damn thing.”

Eddie’s eyes were wide, his mind racing with a million thoughts as he watched the man glance from the cellphone to the manual nearby. 

“How the fuck did—”

“Ed!”

Heeding the sharp warning, he rephrased. 

“Sorry. How the shit did you get that? Aren’t they like four thousand bucks?” he asked, sliding into the seat across from the older man. 

Wayne rolled his eyes at his nephew’s correction, but passed the phone into his waiting hand nonetheless. “Won it in a raffle at work. City-Suits won’t give the line a raise, but apparently, they’ll blow thousands of dollars on useless shit,” he muttered angrily. 

An evil grin curled at Eddie’s lips as he eyed the expensive prize. “Oh, I don’t think it’s totally useless…”

As Eddie pulls himself up onto the roof, just outside your bedroom window, he giddily thinks of all the prank calls you and he are going to make. No one in the town is safe tonight.

But his fist freezes in mid-air, just a few inches short of the glass. His whole body goes rigid, and his heartrate spikes so high, he’s surprised he’s not keeling over from cardiac arrest. Then, he remembers himself.

“Shit!” he hisses, ducking beneath the sill. When he doesn’t hear a scream or a string of shocked expletives, he rises slowly to take a peek. 

There, in the dimly lit room, you lay on your bed in what has got to be the most compromising position he’s ever seen you in. And he was there at the pool a few summers ago, when you did a massive cannonball into the water, sending your top flying off on impact. That was the last time you ever wore a bikini—he’s been cursing the day ever since. Due to one stupid knot, the rest of his summers were frighteningly dull. 

But this moment might top that—

Because only five feet and one glass window away, you’re half-naked from the waist down and writhing with your hand shoved into your thin, purple underwear.

Eddie’s breathing turns shallow, and his jaw feels incapable of shutting as he ogles you stupidly. Practically frozen in place, he observes the way you squirm on untucked sheets, the way sweat beads at your hairline—small droplets glinting in the low lamplight. 

And just like that, his cock twitches to life, hardening faster than he’s ever felt it; leaking and throbbing furiously beneath the restrictive denim. But despite the discomfort, his trance remains unshaken. 

Your bare legs tremble with every bulging movement of your hand beneath your panties, and he licks his lips, imagining the cause. The way your fingers are probably catching your clit at the exact right angle, sending shockwaves through your limbs. 

The closer he gets, the more the window fogs from the warmth of his breath. Any urgency to hide is zapped from him the moment your mouth opens. He strains to hear the sighs you let out—the moans. But the glass is too thick. Or you’re too quiet. Either way, he feels like he’s going insane, not being able to listen to the noises you make. 

Blunt nails dig into his jean-clad thighs as he refrains from losing himself. This all feels so wrong, but he doesn't know what to do. He can’t knock on the window now, he can’t embarrass you like that. Because he knows you. He knows you’d be humiliated. He knows you probably wouldn’t talk to him for a month out of sheer mortification. And he can’t go a month without you.

But he also doesn’t think he has enough willpower to drag himself away from this damn window. To work his way down that damn trellis. And act like he didn’t see a damn thing when you come into the garage tomorrow, excited to greet him like you always are. You, perfectly innocent and none the wiser. Him, wrecked and changed forever. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he sees your back arch into the mattress, hips lifting in a messy, gyrating rhythm, like you’re meeting imaginary thrusts. Like you’re desperate for more. When your lips curve around a familiar shape, a singular word he recognizes but can’t, for the life of him, make out, he loses the fight. 

About to yank the window up, he freezes, then decides to set the heavy cellphone down on the roof. 

After all, Wayne will have his ass if he breaks the device. He can just imagine it slipping from his grip as he struggles to climb through your window. It’d go tumbling down the shingles, bouncing off the gutters, and plummeting to the ground below. He’s heard that these things are supposed to be sturdy, but he doesn’t know how sturdy. 

As he looks around for a safe spot to hide the phone, a thought occurs to him. And surprisingly, it’s not motivated by the throbbing ache in his pants. Well, not fully. 

Instead of charging in, guns blazing and risking a years-long friendship, he figures he should call first. It’s only polite.

Pulse thrumming in his throat, he dials your number—the one he knows by heart. Shrill ringing pierces the air—even permeating the thick glass—spooking you. He watches as you wrench your hand from beneath your panties and glance at the bedside table, to the source of the interruption. He ducks low again, making sure he’s not in your peripheral view. 

With the cellphone waiting in his hands, he studies you, sees the cogs turning in your brain as you hastily consider your options—the same ones he ran through seconds earlier:

You need to pick up the phone, because, despite your vulnerable, frazzled state, it’s late, and you can’t have your parents waking up to the ringing of every landline in the house. 

It’s the perfect catch-22. 

And people say he’s stupid. 

You fail senior year three times and it’s a thing. You pass it once and everyone forgets. Whatever—

When you pick up the handset, Eddie grins. Gotcha.

He watches you inhale deeply, attempting to calm yourself. Then you press the phone to your ear and he does the same, mirroring your movements. 

A soft sigh floats through the receiver, and the sound burrows deep into his mind, sending fractured signals down his body that leave his cock flexing. And he almost cheers at the frailness of the breath—the way he gets to watch its birth from your lust-bitten lips, the way he reaps the benefits so intimately. 

Your voice is strained and scratchy from all the open-mouthed gasps, but sweet all the same. “H-Hello?” 

Eddie grinds his teeth, biting back the eagerness creeping up his throat. “Hey, sweetheart,” he mutters, tone low and husky. 

He nearly cracks a tooth when your thighs clench. Waves of filthy thoughts race through his mind, but he has to play it cool. He has to act normal. He has to act like he’s not right outside your window, painfully hard from watching you finger-fuck yourself. 

“Eddie?” you half-whisper, brows pinching tight in confusion. “What’re you calling this late for?”

A shiver wracks through his body at the sound of his name on your lips so soon after your wandering hands went exploring. Shifting his focus from your face, he slides his gaze down your figure, zeroing in on your glistening fingers. 

Suddenly, he feels parched. 

With a gulp, he ignores your question, opting instead to spend his energy fighting the wolfish grin from seeping into his voice, and replacing it with remorseful innocence. “Sorry, did I wake you? Didn’t mean to interrupt your beauty sleep…” 

It takes everything in him not to laugh when a look of panic sparks at your features. 

“N-No! No, um, I was just—” You lift your head up, looking around the room until your gaze fixes on something just out of his view. “Painting my nails,” you hurry, but it comes out more like a question than a statement. “So, what did you—”

“What color?” Eddie rasps curiously, biting his lip.

Your face drops, and your stuttering breaths get louder as they crackle through the receiver. “Sorry?” 

As if it has a mind of its own, his free hand hovers over the bulge in his pants, giving an experimental squeeze. He inhales sharply, quietly. His eyes close in ecstasy, but only for a split-second, before opening once more. Because he needs to see you. 

“What color are you painting your nails?” he purrs, tone dripping in a smoky desire. Though to you, it probably just sounds like dreary sleep, stuck in his throat. 

Sliding along the length of his shaft, he palms himself with precise pressure as he watches you shudder.

Your fingers toy with the waistband of your pretty panties, all frilly lace and deep violet. 

“Purple,” you sigh with a slow blink, letting your hand slip beneath the thin fabric. 

“Hm. Cute.” His hips twitch, jerking from the pleasure coiling tight in his gut. He watches as your knuckles stretch the material of your underwear once more, moving up and down a few times before starting a repetitive, concentric motion. 

The sight of you actively touching yourself to his voice has a steady stream of precum pumping out of his tip, thoroughly soaking a splotch into his boxers. Soon, he’s sure his jeans will bleed a darker shade of black. All for you. He’ll become a sticky mess, all for you.

It doesn’t help that he finds himself ruminating on how wet you must’ve gotten your fingers just now, dipping them low into your entrance and spreading the arousal up to your clit. 

Fuck, you’re going to be the death of him. 

A tiny voice in his mind bellows, belligerent and questioning how he’s going to come back from this. How he’s going to look you in the eye tomorrow, now knowing what you sound like when you fall victim to your basest desires. 

But then a pitchy hum dances through the line, and he can no longer hear the voice. He watches your legs spasm as you squirm helplessly, like your hands are not enough. 

God, Eddie wishes he could help you. He nearly draws blood, biting his lip, wishing on every star in the sky that he could open this damn window. That he could enter your room and you’d only cry out for him, begging him to touch you. That you wouldn’t yell, wouldn’t scream for him to leave.

He wishes you’d moan his name right to his face. Wishes you’d peel your panties off and open your legs like a wordless invitation. You’d send that famous pout of yours his way, the one you do so well, the one that drives him crazy. The one he can’t resist. 

He’d give you exactly what you need. He’d fill you up and devour every last mewling whimper right from your parted lips. And once you let him in, he wouldn’t abandon your warm cunt for all the money in the world. At least not until he got to leave your velvety walls dripping in his cum. Leave you with a piece of him. A promise of more. A pledge of devotion. 

Eddie’s shoulders hunch, matching your convulsing movements as you struggle to remain quiet. 

“‘S it light purple or dark purple?” he questions gruffly, eager to hear your voice—to hear the strain. 

You throw your head back against the soft pillow behind you, your face crumbling in pleasure, like the right amount of lightning has struck the sensitive little bundle of nerves between your quivering thighs. “D-Dark.”

He bites back a groan, surprised his laser-focused stare hasn’t burned a hole through the glass yet. 

“Like violet?” he huffs out, his gaze refusing to leave your delicate panties, or the actions happening underneath. 

“Mhm,” you mewl, trapping your lower lip between your teeth. 

His jaw drops in awe as the spasms seem harder to control, and the silence more difficult to hold onto, with lewd moans fighting their way up your throat, crawling agonizingly slowly from deep inside you.

“Y’alright, sweets? Y’sound a little breathless,” he utters, steady and calculating—a stark contrast to the harsh, hurried grip he has on his cock. 

You nod your head fervently before remembering the phone pressed to your blazing cheek. Humming a few seconds too long, you’re unable to stop the vibrato from guiding your voice into the pits of desperation.

“Y-Yeah, ‘m fine. Just— I’m, mm-painting my toes.” Your tone jumps an octave on the last word, matching the full-body jerk that leaves you quaking. “Can’t fuckin’ breathe with my knee in my chest,” you pant, forced anger saturating every last syllable as your back arches. 

He chuckles, amused by all your fabrications. For someone who’s squirming in bed like they’re running from their own fingers, you lie surprisingly well. 

It takes everything in him not to let the moan breach his lips when he watches your hand rip from your panties, reach for the decorative throw pillow beside you, and shove it between your thighs, aiding your grinding hips. 

Quickly losing rhythm, he clings to the last shred of sanity he can find, hoping to stave off the fiery heat just a bit longer. He’s not done with you yet. 

But apparently you’re done with him, because your mouth falls open in a silent scream, your body convulses rapidly before stopping suddenly, every part of you stiffening like a marble statue depicting the bowing ascent into pleasure-filled ecstasy. 

Though you’re still, it looks like calamity is bubbling just beneath the surface. One, two, three more weak ruts of your hips against the pillow seems to officially send you hurling over the edge, dragging Eddie along with you. 

Warmth blooms low in his gut and spreads across the front of his pants as his cock throbs angrily, shooting ropes of cum that are immediately stifled by the limitations of the tight fabric. His body jerks, matching your movements. Like you, his pleasure boils over, freeing him of any inhibitions. A groan tears from his chest, but you don’t hear it. Your cries drown out his noises.

“S-Shit, unh, Eddie!” 

He shudders at the way his name rides on the back of your moans, but you quickly cover for yourself.

“Sorry—fuck, I,” your hurried, huffing breaths interrupt your words, “I spilled the polish. I’m— I gotta go, Eds.”

Inhaling sharply, Eddie allows himself just a bit more teasing. “Can’t wait to see your pretty nails tomorrow, sweetheart.” 

Your responding whimper is cut short when you quickly hang up the phone and flop back onto your bed, pillow still hugged tightly between your trembling thighs. For a while, you just lay there with your arm draped over your face.

Outside the window, Eddie watches your rapidly moving chest eventually even out into soft, controlled breaths. He’s about to leave—the cooling mess in his pants starting to give him the bad shivers—but right as he begins inching backward, you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed. 

His eyes go wide when he sees the dark patch on your panties. As you stand and make your way to the middle of the room, his eyes then practically pop out of his head when you shimmy the underwear down your legs, carelessly tossing it in the direction of your laundry basket. 

He gulps at the sight of your bare ass, vibrations rippling through flesh as you walk toward your bedroom door. But before you exit the room, you swipe a pair of panties from the top drawer of your dresser. 

Once you disappear into the dark hallway, leaving your door closed—presumably to stop any light from filtering through—Eddie snaps into action, yanking the window upward and throwing himself through. 

Tumbling to the floor with a quiet thud, his head pops up, looking over the edge of the bed, across the way at the still-shut door. With the cellphone safe in hand, he scrambles up to his feet, trying desperately to ignore the scent of you in the air. It’s partly your perfume lingering on every item in the room, partly the sweet smell of your arousal permeating the stillness of the night. 

Glancing down at the wet spot on the throw pillow, he bounces slightly, frowning in agony—it’s taking incredible restraint not to steal the stupid thing. Because fuck, he could do so much with that. He could rest his head on it, sleep peacefully to the scent of you. He could bury his face in the stain while he ruts his hips into his lumpy mattress. Hell, he could even grind his bare cock on the pillow itself.

But it’s too big of an item to steal. You’d notice. Especially because you were just using it, and for all he knows, this is a regular occurrence. This might be your special humping pillow. He doesn’t judge—he’s got his special jack-off hoodie. Actually, it’s your hoodie that you ‘lost’ a few months ago. It just barely smells like you anymore, but it still does the trick.  

Sighing, Eddie shakes his head, deciding to stick to his original plan. He hurries over toward the basket in your closet but stops short just before he arrives. There, on the ground, is the pair of panties you were wearing only moments ago. He plucks the still-warm material off the ground, holding it up to the light. 

Your juices have thoroughly soaked the fabric, and he looks inside at the gusset, nearly moaning at the glimmer of slick shining up at him. 

“Fuck yeah,” he mutters, pumping his fist. However, right as he moves to greedily sift through more of your dirty laundry, he hears the flush of a toilet from down the hall, then the click of a door. 

His adrenaline spikes, and he speeds back across the room, cursing himself for not just blindly grabbing whatever he could get his hands on from the full basket. Slipping out the window with ease, Eddie shoves the waistband of your panties into his mouth to free one of his hands, allowing him to softly, but swiftly, shut it behind him. 

He makes quick work of descending the trellis before ever witnessing you re-enter the room. As he jogs down the street to his van, he grins victoriously. 

He may not have been able to hang out with you tonight, but he definitely got something far better. A win is a win.

A/N: Pls lmk if you liked this fic!!!! Y’all’s reactions let me know what I should do more of. Also, I’m like a dog and if you guys give me snausages (compliments), I’ll do tricks (post fics) for you. 

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[bunnyclawzz]

Eddie’s personal hell being dealing with his roommate Steve and Steve’s adorable girlfriend..

What started as a good idea to save money slowly began to drive him insane. He tried to be a good sport about it, but he completely forgot how obsessed Steve is with his girlfriend! It meant you were always in the house. He would come home from work and see you both cuddled up on the couch watching a movie, and then the next morning just minutes after waking up he would find you guys cooking breakfast together, and other times he would find you both just sat in the bathroom getting ready together…was it ever enough? How close did you guys need to be?!

You’re just so sweet to Eddie, it almost intimidates him. You always invite him to movie nights and offer to let him pick the movie, you always make him a plate for breakfast, you always want to talk with him. “Hi, Eddie!” “Wanna watch a movie with us, Eds?” “Good morning Eddie!” “Are you busy tonight, Eddie?” He just didn’t understand you! He didn’t get why such a Barbie Doll looking sweetheart was so set on talking with him!

You were practically a third roommate. Always around, always cleaning, trying to be friendly and chat with Eddie like you weren’t always in his friend’s bed-

Oh don’t get him started on the thin walls. It’s nearly every night he can hear you and Steve. Muffled moans, bed frame creaking and occasionally hitting the wall-he’s wondered what it sounds liken when you guys aren’t trying to be quiet. Not in a weird way! Just—..curiosity? He did end up finding out what it sounded like when he came home from work early.

“Fuck—fuck, Steve-” “Mhm?” He hums, “you’ve been waiting to get loud, huh?” He coos, never once slowing his pace. “Sh-shut up..you know I have to be quiet” “-No you don’t. C’mon, baby..he likes you too, y’know, he won’t mind hearing you all pretty like this” he coos softly, halfway teasing. “When’re you gonna let me ask him, hm? Don’t you want him in here?” You whine, weakly giggling between moans. “D-don’t say anything to him..h-he’ll think ’m weird.” Eddie had gotten closer to the door after you had told Steve to shut up. He swears he’s not perverted for listening, he just happened to be close! Fortunately for him, coming home early that day certainly brightened his attitude towards his best friend’s girlfriend, pretty much his third roommate, the sweetest, most perverted doll ever.

[obsessedwithitall]

What is this??? Amazing.

[chelseeebe]

we can’t be friends.

a little fake dating situation in which eddie must pretend to be your boyfriend to keep up pretences, but then feelings start to become hazy and now he’s not sure if you could ever be just friends again.

a/n: i’m reading this back and actually not liking it as much as i first did hahahaah but i hope you enjoy!! i just wanted to reiterate my hate for the duffers and the fact that they didn’t give him any other t-shirt other than that dang hellfire one>:(

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of bad parent/s. modern au i guess but it’s hardly mentioned. no use of y/n!

eddie wasn’t expecting to walk in to you so stressed.

it was the usual thursday movie night but you’d answered the door with a green complexion and the look of a deer in headlights.

“what’s wrong?” he perplexes, shutting the door behind him as you continue to pace the living room floor.

you sigh, blinking at him as you stop for a few seconds. you’re contemplating something, sizing him up with your eyes narrowed. it makes him a little unsettled if he’s honest.

“next week, are you free?”

“what?” wondering what the hell that had to do with your nervous exterior.

“are you free?” you press.

“uh.. probably, why?” not an inch of sense in your words.

“you wanna come on vacation with me? i mean- it’s not so much a vacation but a family reunion, but can you come?” chewing on your fingernail.

“when? what? why?” rattling through all of his questions all at once.

you sigh again, frustrated with his lack of understanding, “family reunion, i can’t do it alone eds..” your hands cycle around the air, “josh was supposed to come with me but obviously.. that’s not happening so can you come?”

eddie’s face finally un-scrunches. it all made sense now.

you’d spoken enough about your crazy parents and subsequently just why you’d moved halfway across the country to get away from them to understand why you didn’t want to go on your own.

he’d also been elated when you’d told him that you and josh had broken up. eddie had never liked him, in fact, if were given the chance, he thinks he’d punch him square in the face.

that hadn’t really helped you of course, so he kept it mostly to himself. but if the opportunity were ever to arise, he’d do it. no shame.

“oh, shit, why didn’t you just ask me in the first place?” he laughs, rolling in his eyes in jest as he collapses on the couch.

“i’ve asked everyone.. and i mean, everyone and they couldn’t, i was scared!” your body relaxes, coming to join him on the couch.

“oh thanks,” eddie scoffs, “so i was the last resort?”

“no,” you prod him in the side, “i didn’t think you’d wanna come, that’s all.”

“yeah right,” chuckling as you hand him a beer, “i don’t mind, i’ll suffer for you,” popping the lid off and taking a swig.

“thank you,” you exhale, leaning back against the couch, “really. it means a lot.”

“so what are we doing? skiing? sightseeing?” eddie probes, making himself comfortable.

you scoff, “oh no, it’s at my aunt’s beach house in illinois.. it’s big enough for you to have your own room and shit, you’ll just have to pretend to like craft beer and talk baseball with my dad.”

eddie’s head hits the back of the couch, groaning loudly, “baseball? man, i dunno if i can make it anymore.”

you throw him the dirtiest glare, “you’re not funny.”

despite your words, he falls into a fit of laughter truly not making your scowl any lesser. he knows you appreciate him deep down, given the fact that you hadn’t hit him yet.

-

the drive across indiana isn’t too bad, eddie only wishes he hadn’t let you control the music for the entirety of the journey.

“just..” you exhale, glancing warily over at him from the passenger seat, “just be normal, okay? don’t let them piss you off,” nodding with every word.

“you don’t trust me?” he grins, earning a deathly glare. “i won’t piss them off.. don’t worry,” turning his sarcastic mocking into kindness.

your eyes squeeze shut before you slide out of the door, doubting your choice to bring eddie along.

your parents open the door with a wide smile and their arms extended, pulling you in before looking over at eddie, obviously slightly taken aback with the man at their door.

he offers his hand out, “i’m eddie, nice to meet you sir,” feeling very judged and not at all surprised, not with all your horror stories.

your dad takes his hand, gripping on tight as he eyes him up and down, “so this is the boyfriend,” humming quietly, “it’s good to finally meet you, son.”

eddie freezes, eyes sliding from your parents to you to find you in the exact same position.

boyfriend?

“uh..” you fumble, mouth opening and closing somewhat like a fish, “yes! yes.. this is him,” chuckling nervously.

oh shit.

his week of rest and relaxation was about to become a week of performing and lies.

you watch eddie anxiously, your eyes speaking a thousand words. praying he doesn’t mess up, doesn’t embarrass you in front of them.

“yeah.. yeah, that’s me,” he nods hurriedly, going to shake your mom’s hand, “lovely to meet you.. miss.”

now eddie wasn’t opposed to pretending to be your boyfriend but fuck, really? he needed at least a week to prepare and rehearse, rather than you throwing him into a week of improvisation at a whim.

the literal second the door to your shared bedroom shuts, eddie spins on his heel, jaw clenched with an exasperated expression.

“what the fuck?” he whispers, rather loudly.

“i’m sorry!” you hush back, eyes wide, “i- i.. i didn’t have a choice! fuck, i’m really sorry,” anger turning to regret as you flop onto the bed, head in hands.

well great. now he feels guilty. you’re almost sobbing when he joins you on the bed, pressing his lips together in frustration.

“hey! it’s fine.. it’s fine,” he assures, “shit, it’ll be fun,” bumping his shoulder into yours playfully.

you sniffle pathetically, looking up at him with tearful eyes, “i’m really sorry.. i panicked,” bottom lip wobbling.

god, you look like the reincarnation of bambi.

his heart pangs, guilt wracking his chest for the slight overreaction.

“i know,” nodding slightly, “it’s okay.. it’ll be funny, you know?” he’s not sure that it’ll be anymore funny than it’ll be stressful, but he’s prepared to see this week through.

for you.

-

it’s the little things that make a relationship a relationship. things eddie hadn’t ever considered.

like the seemingly insignificant touches and the casual kisses. all things he now had to meticulously plan and prepare for.

nothing was ever too much. a gentle peck on the cheek or a graze of the knee. things no one would really notice unless you weren’t doing them.

you grab his hand walking to the table for dinner and he almost starts cackling until he remembers, now hoping that his palm wasn’t sweating too much.

that night in bed, you turn to face him, tiny smile creeping onto your face, “i think my cousin likes you, i mean- did you see the look on her face when you walked into dinner?”

eddie lets his phone fall onto his chest, flabbergasted at your suggestion, “what are you talking about?”

you hit his arm, furrowing your brows, “c’mon, she was totally checking you out, don’t pretend you didn’t notice,” rolling your eyes in jest.

if he’s honest, he really didn’t notice.

he’d been too preoccupied by you in that damn dress to care about anyone else at the table.

eddie didn’t get to see you dressed up often and the dress was sitting just right, he couldn’t exactly focus on much else.

“oh, are you getting jealous?” he mocks.

you tut, shaking your head, “maybe after we’ve fake-broken up you two can get together.”

“you are jealous,” he laughs, sliding his phone onto the nightstand and settles into bed, “what if i don’t wanna fake-break up?” only half-serious as he says it.

“well then i’ll get a fake-restraining order against you,” poking your tongue out before turning the lamp off. “goodnight, eddie,” he can hear the smile in your voice as you roll over.

there’s a quiet, niggling little voice somewhere in the back of his mind. or maybe it’s his heart speaking.

whatever it is, he doesn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. at least not right now anyway.

-

eddie supposes that a vacation at your aunt’s beach house would entail seeing you in little clothing but he can’t help the little woah from leaving his mouth when you walk out of the bathroom in a tiny bikini top.

“don’t be fucking weird,” you frown, eyes trailing down to his hot dog swimming trunks.

“i’m not!” he exclaims, still trying to draw his eyes away from your chest, “i’ve just never seen.. them,” eyes widening at your revealing bikini.

your eyes roll to the back of your head, expressing your disgust with a small groan.

the entire day is made significantly harder by your top, or lack thereof. eddie finds his gaze slipping downward and every so often has to remind himself that he’s not actually your boyfriend and he doesn’t have the rights to ogle you.

it’s just hard to focus on a thing your dad says to him when you’re sat in front of him like that.

his limits are tested when your cousin suggests a game of tennis. already calling eddie for her team as you get into position on the opposite side of the court.

perhaps you were right, her unnecessary, constant touching sent alarm bells ringing in his head. not that he’s paying it any mind, too distracted by your chest as you bound around the court.

so much so, he completely misses the ball, letting it bounce off of the court and into a hedge somewhere.

“eddie!” she shrieks, running off to collect the ball.

your eyes lock from over the net, your brows threaded together, “how about we swap teams? you join me,” pointing your finger at his face, gesturing for him to join you, which he does with a smile.

mostly just glad to be away from her wandering hands but also, he gets to prove a point.

“you are jealous,” eddie smirks, hushed tones as he speaks into your ear. you’re so close now, enough to touch.

he wants to.

he wants to so bad.

even if it were just to make your cousin seethe with envy.

“me? never,” smacking your racket gently at his leg, earning a nasty glare from your unhappy cousin who smacks the ball far too harshly towards him.

-

he’s too hot and bothered to do much after such an exciting game of tennis, walking in stride with you as you enter the large house. blabbering away about something or nothing when your mom announces her presence rather loudly.

“oh god,” pulling a face as she eyes your outfit, “you really should coverup sweetie, nobody wants to see that,” cackling away to herself.

eddie’s floored, utterly stunned that she’d ever say something like that, let alone to your face. your despairing expression stabs him in the heart, choking him from the inside out.

“well i do,” grinning at the lady in front of him.

“of course you do, you’re a man,” the older woman sighs, “i think it’s a little disgusting to just.. have everything out there,” gesturing to your chest, “women should have pride in their appearance, you know?”

you blink, chewing the inside of your lip as you nod. shrinking into yourself as you glide up the stairs. in an ideal world, he’d call her a bitch and move on with his life, however, he supposes that probably wouldn’t be wise.

she tuts, shaking her head at the stairs, “she’s always so offended.. can’t say a thing to her.”

eddie bites his tongue, diverting from what he truly wanted to say to offer some mild criticism, “maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all,” shrugging as he flies past her and up the stairs, hot on your trail.

the bedroom’s empty though the en-suite door is closed, a muffled sniff coming from the other side. he hates that she’s made you cry, that she’s capable of even making you feel bad when you had absolutely zero reason to.

his knuckles rap against the door, pressing his cheek to the wood, “it’s me.”

there’s a small scuffle and then the lock clicks though the door remains closed. having to console you after the amazing afternoon you’d had feels wrong.

he creeps inside, closing the door behind him. you’re slouched on the toilet, tears leaking down your warm cheeks. it’s a punch to the gut to see you like this. all those harsh stories you’d recalled to him suddenly made a shit ton of sense.

“you okay?” eddie asks, the answer already overwhelmingly obvious.

“yeah,” you sigh, wiping your sodden cheeks, sniffling for good measure.

“you shouldn’t listen to her,” he affirms, perching on the bathtub, “don’t let her upset you.. it’s not worth it,” although his words probably fall on deaf ears, you already know this.

“i know..” staring up at him with your puppy dog eyes, “i’m sorry, she just.. ugh,” snarling your lip, “she knows how to make me feel like shit.”

“what the hell are you apologising to me for?” eddie jokes, poking you in the arm, “she’s just jealous,” choosing wisely where to go from here, “she doesn’t look as good as you do and she doesn’t like that.”

his words crack a tiny smile on your lips, mission accomplished.

“thanks,” you nod, “i mean that. thank you for even coming with me.. i couldn’t do it without you.”

his heart swells a little, or a lot really.

this is a dangerous game, he thinks. wanting nothing more than to cradle you in his arms.. blur the boundaries a little more.

how much more blurred could they possibly get before eddie had to admit to his feelings?

he’s not sure he wants to find out.

-

on reflection, it had been a pretty good week. at least eddie thinks so, pretending to be your boyfriend wasn’t exactly normal or anything he’d ever pictured himself doing. but he’s enjoyed it nonetheless.

despite a new found, deep hatred for your mother, he doesn’t think the rest of your family were that bad. willing to volunteer for any other vacations you might be forced to drag him on.

nowhere near as testing as he once thought it would be. in reality, the hardest part about it all was that he had to go home alone tomorrow.

as both of you lounge on the bed, the tv prattling on in the background, he smiles, gently elbowing you in the side.

“y’know this week has been fun,” reminiscing on all the stupid things he’s had to do to sell this story.

one night, you had helped yourself to a little too much wine. stumbling all over the vast garden as your family watched on in horror. so eddie did what any good boyfriend would do and slung you over his shoulder, giggling into his back as he manoeuvred his way up to your room.

not only the public displays of affection come back to him, but also the seemingly minuscule ones. where only you were involved. sneaky laughs and glances that only the two of you could understand.

“mhm,” you hum, sliding your bookmark into your book, “it has, thank you for doing this,” before leaning over to place your book onto the bedside table.

“i’ve enjoyed it,” he meets your eye, that same uncomfortable fluttering starts again in his chest, “being your ‘boyfriend’ i mean.”

you shuffle, turning to face him properly, “well.. i’ve enjoyed being your girlfriend,” lips twitching into a smile.

there’s something in the silence, a tension that feels ready to burst.

eddie does something he might live to regret, something so idiotic and foolish that put your entire friendship at risk.

he leans forward, hastily connecting your lips in what must be the world’s most awkward kiss.

you hesitate for too long of a moment, jerking your head back to stare into his eyes.

he’s done it. he’s ruined the single best thing he had left.

an apology begins to form on his tongue but your lips silence him, your hand finding his cheek to bring him closer. eddie’s eyes fall shut, slowly accepting this, that you wanted it too.

he repositions himself, at your mercy as you tug on his hair, now hovering above your body, elbows sinking into the mattress.

he can feel you now, your chest brushing against his, the way your heart rate seems to match his, thumping away in your chest.

“we should.. we should stop,” eddie pulls away, breathlessly panting with your lips still tracing over one another.

“no.. no,” you shake your head, your eyes shiny and full of something he can’t place.

“what?”

“kiss me again,” you demand.

he’s not quite certain he’s hearing you right. fear had forced him to tear himself away but now you were asking for him to do it again?

eddie falters for a second too long, forcing you into kissing him, smashing your lips to his as your fingers scramble to find the back of his neck under his hair.

oh my god oh my god oh my god.

your entire family are in this house and he’s going to desecrate this innocent bed with you, his fake-girlfriend.

he feels your knee slide up his thigh, allowing him more space between your legs. now it’s more than just your chests meshed together, his poor sweatpants tightening with every slight buck of your hips. blood rushing to his cock as you gasp and sigh into his mouth.

he has to pull himself back into the room when your hand slides from his neck to his crotch, lightly tracing over his throbbing cock.

making out could be easily laughed off but this- this was serious.

“you.. you wanna do this?” he asks, gasping for breath as you continue to kiss at the side of his mouth.

“i want to do this,” you reaffirm, dipping your hand into the waistband of his sweatpants, drawing out a hoarse groan from his throat.

your hand wraps around the base of his cock, leaving a trail of kisses to his jaw.

his eyelids flutter, struggling to stay open as you start pumping your fist, thumb circling his leaking tip.

“oh my god,” eddie breathes, jolting his hips into your fist.

this entire week he had been internalising all of these intrusive thoughts and feelings about you and now it felt like he might genuinely cum all over your hand, not even five minutes into this.

it doesn’t at all help when you’re panting and writhing around underneath him, delicate fingers making him feel like he’s flying.

“f-fuck,” he stutters, grabbing your forearm, “you have to stop,” regaining just enough composure to reopen his eyes.

“why?” concern rippling through your voice.

now he falters, gazing into your lust filled eyes, pupils all blown out and crazy. it would be despicable if he were to divulge his embarrassing secret to you.

so he takes your arm, pinning it above your head before starting his descent, a paper chain of kisses and light grazings down your neck and chest.

it’s entirely too intimate for just friends, fake relationship or not.

“oh,” you sigh, head rolling back onto the pillow.

eddie has control now, regaining power without a damn clue of what to do with it. your shorts come down with his free hand with a little help from you, your ankle now comes to rest on his shoulder.

he should feel stronger than he does, rather more intimidated and fearful that he’s going to disappoint.

“please..” you pout, “please touch me,” he wonders if you can sense his anxiety.

he lets go of his grip on your wrist, trailing down your quivering body until he meets your lower stomach. this new position allows him access to your heat, wet and waiting for him.

“shit,” he mutters, sliding a solitary finger between your slick folds, watching as your chest heaves in response. “you’re so pretty,” he can’t help but blurt out.

“shut up and touch me,” you snap, chasing his touch with your hips.

eddie’s not going to deprive you of that now, is he?

circling around your clit, noting the way you groan and grab onto his arm. not that he thinks that there’ll ever be a second time for this.

your eager hands grab at his sweatpants, hoping that that’ll be enough of a hint.

he’s not going to last long, that’s for certain.

fed up with his stalling, you tug his sweatpants down, aiding him in sliding them off and onto the floor with a muffled thump.

your arms fan out across the mattress, glancing down at the minimal space between your bodies and then back into his eyes.

his entire body shudders as he slides into your eager cunt, bumbling through all of the profanity in his vocabulary. watching as your jaw falls slack, wary that you couldn’t make too much noise.

perhaps it was the fact that he’d been brushing off any even slightly sexual thought for an entire week or maybe it was just true but eddie swears that no one had ever felt this good before.

“fuck,” he wails, hips slamming against the backs of your thighs, digging his fingertips into the soft, mailable flesh of your hip.

just the way you grip onto the blanket makes him dizzy, letting his eyesight go hazy, a blurred picture of you sprawled underneath him.

the pleasure is insurmountable, something snapping in his stomach when your hand reaches out for him, gripping onto his forearm.

“eds,” you gasp, just loud enough over his barely contained grunts, “more,” sickening eyes doing all the work for you.

there’s not much more of him left to give, already nudging against your soft spot, repositioning your calf higher on his shoulder to allow him deeper, receiving a sweet whimper in return.

“yeah,” you pant, over and over, fingernails latching onto his skin. his arms start to shake, still holding himself up over you as his orgasm begins to catch up with him.

“shit.. i don’t- i don’t think..” eddie swallows, struggling to stay composed as you tighten around him, looking up at him through batting eyelashes.

it makes his stomach twist, barely able to move as his high comes crashing down, overtaking his senses, sweaty bodies colliding as he collapses on top of you.

“oh shit.. oh my god,” he whines, release painting your thigh, the sheet and even your fucking t-shirt.

he’s not ready for a child but he’s certain that’d have been worth it.

eddie glances at you, subsequently moving from your body onto the mattress. the entire high he had been feeling comes tumbling down, now faced with the reality that you were no longer just friends.

the ceiling becomes incredibly interesting, both of you avoiding eye contact as the silence somehow grows louder.

for a room that was just full of lewd, filthy noises, it sure is quiet now.

the blanket rustles and eddie dares a peek, you stand at the edge of the bed, disheveled and still slightly flustered.

you look down at the stain he had left, tutting quietly, “thanks a lot.. gonna have to change now,” adding a soft chuckle.

“sorry.. cheaper than a baby though,” adding to your banter, it’s indescribable the relief he feels.

eddie watches as you rummage around in your suitcase, no longer shying away as you pull your shirt over your head, shimmying into your clean clothes.

when you rejoin him in bed, the tension is mostly gone, the lamp clicking off, encompassing the room in total and utter darkness.

there’s a further moment of silence wherein eddie isn’t sure if he should bolt and hide or embarrass himself further and say something stupid.

something- someone, brushes against his ribcage as you shuffle, your hand coming to rest on his stomach.

there’s not a word exchanged between you but eddie takes the hint, sliding your hand further over his midriff. it’s a pathetic attempt at cuddling but it makes him flutter all the same.

-

eddie wakes up sprawled face first across the bed, blinking at the bright light, not a trace of you in the room.

he fucked up. he fucked up so bad that you’ve decided to find your own way home and left him here.

shit.

he clambers out of bed, pulling his hastily discarded sweatpants back on, remembering every last detail of your night last night.

the guilt comes in waves, and then embarrassment and shame jump in to make it worse.

years of friendship down the drain and for what?

he just about builds enough courage to leave the room and venture downstairs, creeping out onto the hall when you come bounding up the stairs, meeting him in the cramped corridor.

“hi,” smiling coyly, playing the oblivious game.

“hey,” he nods, reciprocating the smile.

nothing was ruined. you’re fine.

“i was just coming to wake you..breakfast’s ready,” you fiddle with your thumbs, a completely different version of yourself than the one he saw last night.

“oh good,” eddie blinks, “i’m starving,” wanting to smash his palm into his face the second the words come out.

“great!” you exclaim, the painful cringe coming through on your face too.

the two of you walk down the stairs in silence, sitting at the table with a small knowing glance.

this house is huge. he’s sure no one else would’ve heard.

he’s midway through his coffee when your dad leans across the table, probing the two of you, “so, will you be trying for kids anytime soon?”

eddie damn near chokes on the searing hot liquid, coughing his gulp back up into the mug, combatting the burning sensation travelling down his throat and also up into his cheeks.

why would he ask that? over breakfast no less.

“uh no.. nope,” you answer for him, thankfully.

“that’s a shame,” your father stands from the table, sliding his plate into the soapy water before making his way over to eddie, clapping him on the back, “you’re gonna have to make an honest woman outta her first son,” before shuffling off into the living room.

he wants to die. in fact, he’d much rather the ground open up and swallow the two of you alive than to be sat at this breakfast table.

judging by the look on your face, you share the sentiment.

-

he’s going to tell you. he’s going to tell you. he’s going to tell you. he’s going to tell you.

he’s just not sure when or how. it’d be unfair for him to unload his feelings unto you at the beginning of the journey, not to mention also extremely inconvenient if you didn’t feel the same.

but then he’s also acutely aware that if he doesn’t force those words out soon, that they may never come out.

he’s just finished loading your bags into the back of his van, admittedly a little sad to be leaving.

it’s like, he could no longer pretend that what was going on was real. that last night might’ve just been a mistake and you want to cut ties here.

your phone blares from your hand, holding up a finger as you walk away to take the call.

eddie rehearses what he’s going to say to you. well, tries to.

i think you’re super cool, how about i become your boyfriend for real?

he cringes at the thought of it, it wasn’t really the declaration of love that you deserved.

the door opening startles him, your demeanour had done a complete one eighty, your shoulders slumped as you slide into the seat in silence.

“you all good?” eddie asks, wondering what had changed in such a short time.

“uh.. yeah.”

“y’sure?” he probes, not entirely convinced by your change in attitude.

“that was josh,” you swallow, looking straight ahead out of the windscreen, “he wants to see me when i’m back.. to talk.”

“oh,” he replies flatly, “wow okay.”

the life he had dreamed slowly crumbled before him, it was foolish to think that you’d just want to settle down with him now. he’d gotten ahead of himself and now had to reap the consequences.

“yeah..”

eddie doesn’t utter another word, instead, turning the key and starting the long, painful drive home.

maybe he’ll throw himself out of the van on the interstate. punishment for letting himself even slightly believe that you’d be interested in him too.

-

josh is waiting outside of your building when eddie pulls up, smug grin in tow.

tempted to just keep driving, smash into the side of his expensive shiny car and then reverse over his spindly little body.

that doesn’t happen of course.

instead, eddie keeps his head ducked low, muttering a low see you later before you clamber out. there’s so much left unsaid, even a complete idiot could see that.

he doesn’t watch as you walk over to your ex, certainly doesn’t want to see how his hands meet the small of your back and the way you seem to relax into his touch.

not a chance.

it’s eating him alive. even with the windows rolled down entirely, he’s sweating. as if it’s gnawing at his skin, trying to find a way out.

fuckfuckfuck.

tyres screech along the tarmac, his hands shaking as he turns the wheel. something otherworldly and dangerous overtakes his senses as he tears off back down the same road he’d just traveled.

and maybe he’d regret it and maybe it’d ruin your friendship forever but this week couldn’t have been for nothing.

you had to at least know.

eddie’s palms are wet, holding onto the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. he doesn’t recall the journey to your apartment being so fucking long but he feels like he’s in this stuffy van for an eternity.

the moment he pulls onto that familiar street, bile rises in his throat.

maybe josh would have sweet talked his way back into your life and he’d get his ass beat. or maybe you’d laugh him out of there, telling him to never contact you again.

he supposes that there’s not much left to lose now.

eddie hops out of his van without so much as a look back, bounding up the short path as the door swings open, nearly knocking him for six.

“eddie,” you remark, phone gripped in your hand. your jaw hangs open, what looks like tears stain your cheeks. “i was trying to call you.”

frankly, he’s still out of breath from the exhilaration of it all, struggling to find his words as he stares gormless at you, “my phone’s dead.. i didn’t- didn’t know.. what’s wrong?” mind immediately jumping to josh.

what had he done?

“nonono.. nothing’s wrong, i just..” you trail off, your gaze not once breaking, “why are you here?”

eddie’s mind goes blank, why was he here?

to tell you that he thinks he’s in love with you? he can’t say that.

“you.. left something- in the van.”

idiot.

total fucking fool.

“oh!” swallowing the shock of his arrival, “what? what is it?”

why are you both dancing around this? he’s sure you feel it too. maybe. that could be the adrenaline speaking.

“nothing.. you didn’t leave anything- i don’t know why i said that.” shaking his head, if he weren’t so nervous, he’d have been crippled with embarrassment. “look, i have to tell you something,” biding his time, hoping your crazed ex won’t pop out of a bush and pummel his head into the ground.

“eddie..” you start, that solemn tone he was dreading to hear.

“no, let me say it,” he tries again, clearing his throat, “i need to s-“

“-eddie,” cutting him off mid-sentence, bounding up to him with your arms extended, throwing them around his neck as you press your lips to his.

it’s almost enough force to knock him on his ass, his hands coming to meet your waist in an attempt to stabilise both of you.

you pull away, lips still pouted slightly, “sorry.. what were you gonna say?”

eddie can’t recall a word of the speech he’d halfheartedly rehearsed. “well shit.. doesn’t matter now,” once again pressing his lips to yours, swaying in the evening breeze as everything seems to fall into place.

[chelseeebe]

see him online (all the time)

mdni!! 18+. smut. smut with no plot at all actually. modern au.

title based on if you’re too shy (let me know) - the 1975

a/n: heyyy i’m back with some degenerate smut!! it’s my first time ever doing a fic like this so if it isn’t formatted well/is confusing pleaseeee let me know!! r has a faceless nsfw account on twitter, eddie is a content creator/camboy with a large following. they’re both absolute down bad losers for one another! if it’s not your thing pls feel free to scroll

this @gutsnhugs kurt fic literally blew my mind and kinda forced me into finally writing some camboy!eddie so everyone say thank you!!

˗ˏˋ 🍒 ˎˊ˗

you're horny.

horny and alone.

which wasn't a rarity, it was just that today was particularly awful and nothing on this wretched site is seeming to satiate the ache between your legs.

eddie always seemed to be able to, watching the one video of him being ridden like an absolute stallion over and over until you'd cum enough times to fall asleep.

but you need him, need him here.

the ache keeps coming back, each time worse than before. a deep, aching hunger for this strangers cock. it was debauchery, genuine filthy need to be used by this man that the autoscroll videos of puppies playing with ducklings couldn't even cleanse.

you click the small envelope on his profile on a whim, it's not like he'd ever see your message, god knows how many desperate women and men alike sent him utter vulgarity day in day out. this was more for your own appeasement. to know that you tried, even if you weren't successful.

you've posted a few videos here and there, garnering a couple hundred likes on a few. mostly just of your hand between your legs, shuddered gasps soundtracking the tapes. but you were nowhere near on eddie's level.

he had thousands of followers, all salivating at the mouth, clambering for the next video, the next stream of him mindlessly playing with his cock- hell, they'd cream themselves for just a tweet back saying hi.

🐇baby

i need to fuck u so bad lol.

he wouldn't even see it.

you'd be cursed to a life of anonymous thirsting forever. unless of course you accidentally stumbled upon him in the street, accidentally bumping his shoulder which forces you to apologise, therein which he falls deeply, madly in love, fucking your brains out each and every day until the end of your lives.

but as delusional as you may be, you know that the likelihood of that ever happening is zero to none. so, instead of pining over some dude you'll never meet, you lock your phone and attempt to fall asleep. dreaming sweet musings of curly-headed men who live to make you cum.

-

the shrill ringing of your alarm is abrupt, forcefully prying you from your dreamland and back into the dull dregs of corporate life.

you don't even look at your phone until the coffee is in your mug, leaning over the kitchen island to find what was perhaps the worst notification you could've ever received.

edward🖤 is that u on ur page? if it is....... i'm down very down

oh my god.

your heart thuds, feeling the mismatched beats in your throat.

firstly on account for him even seeing your disgraceful thirsting, but secondly for the fact that he's very down.

very down?

mortification rushes through your veins, heat creeping through your body in complete disgust. and arousal. definitely arousal.

🐇baby oh hey.... didn't think you'd actually see that i'm so sorry🫣 ya they're me but i don't post my face #corporategirl

jesus christ.

you were beyond redemption, so disgustingly down bad for this man that he had you quivering over your burnt black coffee at six thirty in the fucking morning.

that far-fetched, ludicrous fantasy of yours seemed so terrifyingly feasible now that you want to cull it from your mind. rid yourself of any and all fantasies about him, just in case you were to meet and he could somehow read your tainted mind.

work today would only be made a hundred times harder knowing that you'd be waiting for a message back. for some inkling of hope to keep this facade up. he'd probably do it too- play along with your sick games in a bid to get you to pay for his top-tier onlyfans or some shit.

-

it's almost lunch before you're completely calmed down, absentmindedly checking your phone when you see that stupid little black heart again.

edward_munz followed you back!

edward🖤 i see everything lol do you really need to or do you have post nut clarity and regret ever sending that message bc i don't if you were wondering

you hate the fact that he has your ears burning from four silly little messages, only despising yourself more for immediately replying.

🐇baby that's so scary no post nut clarity here

you spare a quick glance around the, mostly silent office, making sure nobody was creeping over your shoulder, checking in on their pervert coworker.

🐇baby you just nutted? without showing me?🥺

you're disgusting.

immediately regretful for your no-better-than-a-dude's words.

🐇baby omg i'm sorry ew

he doesn't reply, or even see the messages. forcing your heart into arrest, your pussy already throbbing at the most surface level flirting the twitter dm's had ever seen.

the knot in your stomach grows with every passing minute, was it over now? before it had even started? you should've kept your mouth shut, participated in the parasocial teasing and then gone home to up your sub amount like a good little follower instead.

ping

edward🖤 sent an image

you tentatively click the notification, it'd be a sub-list. one telling you to send him an extra ten dollars for the dm's package.

oh no.

your head snaps up, glancing at your unassuming colleagues again. double, triple insurance that none of them could see your phone screen.

it's a picture of his lower stomach, covered in a thick white tinted substance, the curly hairs on his groin all slicked with the stuff and the pretty pink tip of his glistening cock in the background.

edward🖤 is that anything? proof enough for u?

🐇baby wow fuck i'm at work rn NEED to fuck you for sure or need you to fuck me maybe

edward🖤 if ur serious, i'm always down ur fucking hot

you're fucking hot?

coming from the very man that had you pleading for mercy from your own bastard hand. you're honoured, completely, unabashedly honoured.

🐇baby i'm so serious are u?? don't make me get my hopes up for nothing edward🖤 ofc i am do u even live anywhere near indiana?

indiana? the love of your life has been in indiana this entire time?

🐇baby i live in indiana! lol i live just outside the city what about you? edward🖤 hawkins lol that's like a 40 minute drive from me u might be worth it tho 🐇baby might be? edward🖤 ok WILL be better?

🐇baby much better r u 100% serious i've never done this before i don't know if you're just trying to be nice edward🖤 100% serious. if ur scared we can always ft before?

you grin at your phone, a loser of the highest order. it was the bare minimum chivalry that one would expect but it had you biting your lip anyway.

edward🖤 but i wanna see you i mean it 🐇baby okay i want to see u too u don't even know what i look like lol edward🖤 true show me if we're gonna make sweet love or wtv i should know 🐇baby lolllll

you scroll through your camera roll, swiping past the numerous images of your food and the sunset in an attempt to find a half-decent picture of yourself. there's one taken from your laptop, lead on your stomach with your feet dangling helplessly in the back with your finger positioned right between your teeth.

edward🖤 reacted ❤️ to your message fuuuucckkkk and you want to fuck me? why?? 🐇baby oh my god don't do that you know ur hot edward🖤 i'm so fucking hard again lol wyd saturday?

it's taking everything within you not to scuttle off to the bathroom to ease the pulsing of your cunt. he was ridiculously smooth. charming his way right into your sodden panties, not that that wasn't an easy feat for someone who looked like him.

🐇baby nothing or... i can be doing something if u want edward🖤 now you are i'm coming over need to feel u so so bad

there’s a knock at your cubicle wall, startling you out of your skin. kristy swings round, none the wiser to your deplorable antics, "we're gonna grab some lunch, you coming?" so completely oblivious to how much her choice of words rang true.

you shield your phone with your entire body, protecting her from the filth that lay upon it, you're not entirely sure who would end up more traumatised. "oh.. uhm yeah, let me just finish up and i'll meet you downstairs," nodding sweetly, a complete facade to cover up who you really were.

🐇baby i’m so so sorry i have to go work thing i’ll make it up to you later

edward🖤 oh fuck you that’s so mean i’ll remember that i’m gonna stream later you better be there

his invitation makes you smile to yourself, haphazardly tossing your belongings into your bag, hoping your beaming grin and warm skin wouldn't arouse suspicion with your coworkers. you've no idea how you'll make it through lunch, let alone the rest of your workday all the while knowing eddie was barely an hour away, stroking his cock to the thought of you.

🐇baby wouldn’t miss it

-

you don’t waste a millisecond between getting through your front door and thinking about how you’ll make it up to eddie.

shuffling through your usual routine of stripping off your rigid work clothes, reheating whatever bland variation of leftovers left in the fridge and planting yourself on the couch to watch hours of trashy tv. only today, you move upstairs, to your bedroom— to privacy.

you had an array of previously filmed videos, mostly awfully-lit, barely legible thirty second clips of you cumming, made for the sole purpose of garnering likes from thirsty old men online. they wouldn't do, weren't up to the standard that he deserved for your cruel blue-balling.

it comes to you as you finish the borderline inedible spaghetti, sat cross-legged on your bed. you'd make it up to him a thousand times over, and no doubt rile him up a thousand more.

🐇baby when r u going live need to see u

edward🖤 look at you begging for me now you still owe me but give me ten and i'll be live

perfect.

enough time to set yourself up, laptop poised and ready to go, pussy purring for a glimpse of his ringed fingers pumping his shaft. knowing now, that he was just as eager to fuck you, as you were him- you wanted to make this something, worthwhile even. purposefully changing into an especially racy pair of black panties, not that he'd see much, that wasn't the point.

your phone buzzes, snapping you out of the enchanting visions of him fucking you into the mattress. a link, to his stream sits waiting, taunting. making the distracted fluttering of your cunt oh so much worse.

edward🖤 just for you

you tilt the laptop screen, just enough to be captured by your phone, joining the stream to a dimly-lit image of him sat resting on his elbow. one hand wrapped around his phone, the other moving slowly over his hip.

his eyes flit between whatever was on his screen to the chat, thousands of faceless people begging to see more. eddie could go live anytime and be certain that at least a thousand porn-brained sickos would be tuning in to watch.

"how's your day been?" he asks, voice seeping through your dark bedroom, "y'think about me at all?" chuckling low, still engrossed by whatever it was he was watching.

god, you hope it's you.

the chat lights up with a hundred messages. ‘all day everyday!' and 'i never stop thinking about you' fill the screen. he had them wrapped around his little finger, lapping up the petty scraps he threw them.

and don't get it wrong, you were absolutely one of them. look at the state he'd gotten you in without ever touching you.

your hand sinks down between your thighs, phone positioned carefully on your chest as you hit record. he hadn't even started touching himself yet and you were soaked. the commanding boom of his voice, the lazy eye contact with the camera and the sheer exhilaration of knowing you'd see exactly what you do to him on camera.

your fingers dip into the soft lace, circling your clit a few measly times before sliding between your wet folds and into your quivering hole, "oh fuuck," gasping right into the microphone, words intertwined with shaky moans.

eddie looks at the camera, as if he's looking through the plastic right at you, "a little excited today, aren't you?" fucker, it's like he knows. "'m gonna start in a sec.." gripping his dick through the material, ensuring the vulgar outline of his erection can be appropriately seen by all.

"shit.." murmuring without meaning to, so entirely wrecked by just a few words.

he tugs on his sweatpants, tongue peeking out of his shiny lips as his cock jumps up, hitting against his stomach, already glossy with pre-cum. "that what you wanted, hm?" wrapping his hand around the base as his phone falls onto the mattress, images of you already burned into his mind, you hope.

your fingers glide back to your clit, tracing around the thrumming nub, right in time with his fist moving up and down. you share the same tempo, despite the distance. that must mean something, maybe.

“oh eddie,” you whine, the video now a shaky haze, attributed to your imminent orgasm, “touch me.. fuck please touch me,” mewling into your phone, only exaggerating a little, mostly for his benefit.

it doesn’t take long for you to make yourself cum, fucking your fingers desperately, a pool of your spend coating the digits when your stomach flips. projecting a chorus line of expletives, littered with echoes of his name.

he grunts, just as you begin to tremble— connected by a higher being you’re sure. his thumb teasing his tip, drawing this out for as long as it took, milking the drooling sycophants for every last dollar they were willing to tip.

“please please please,” you pant, seeking his permission to let yourself topple over, “thank you.. thank- shit,” crashing into your climax, crying out with little care as to who could hear.

your phone slides from your heaving chest, almost immediately ready to go again when your eyes focus and connect with his.

it takes a minute, but you gain enough semblance of control eventually, tapping hurriedly to get the video sent and into his hands.

his phone brightens up the inked skin of his rib cage and for a moment you think he might just ignore it until he pauses, recognises your name and lets curiosity take over. the camera jolts, his laptop shoved slightly lower, so as to not expose whatever might be waiting behind the notification.

“oh shit,” eddie mutters, glancing at the chat only to instantly flick back to your little pornography attempt. “jesus christ,” swiftly lowering the volume of his phone when the video plays.

this is it.

everything you’d ever wanted, transpiring over a grainy livestream on a rainy thursday evening. it’s awe inspiring, just last night you had meant nothing to him and now you’re making him jitter like a stupid school boy.

the chat awakens when he puts the phone to his face, muffled sounds of your pleas ring out for thousands to hear.

what’s wrong?

pls don’t go!!!

need to see u cum👅

his hand reignites, watching diligently how your hips roll and you fuck yourself to his nonchalance, “fuck.. yeah, that’s it bunny,” he keens, the mindless nickname you’d given yourself tumbling out of his lips.

what’s he watching

who is that lol.

relentlessly fucking his fist now, no longer concerned with the stream, but instead you. every single sense of his is honed into you and his fucking cock.

he has a gf???

“y’gonna take my cock, huh?” voice full of rasp, dominance. you’re shivering all over again, grinding down onto nothing, “gonna cum all over my fuckin’ cock,” a demand, not a question.

your cunt drips, hand now back in your panties, teasing your clit with his words. with the image of him losing all composure to your video. his strangled moans travel through the speaker, masquerading the wet shlick of your pussy.

“doin’ so good f’me..” you can see his fingers scramble restart the recording, the others vigorously pumping around his cock, “ohh.. shit, bunny. fuck, i gotta feel you.. need’a..” trailing off into silence to allow your wails through clearly.

who even is that.

this is so fucking hot🥵

wish that was me

the tattoos littering his body gleam with sweat, flexing with every jerk of his hand, every time your syrupy iteration of his name calls out through the phone. it’s sickening how your own voice makes you shudder, getting off to yourself seemed narcissistic but it fills your stomach with electricity.

eddie must agree, sighing into the air with zero constraint, “gonna fill you up.. yeah? you want that? want me to cum inside y’perfect pussy?”

“fuck yes.. fuck.. please,” begging him, so feeble. at his mercy and so willingly too.

the camera wobbles, matching his ferocious pace though you see him perfectly. see his pretty cock twitch between his palm, “fuck yeah baby.. fuck yes, gonna cum.. gonna cum right here,” garbled nonsense mostly but it sends you hurtling into another orgasm.

seemingly just in front of his own, strained sobs fall out of his pouted lips, deliriously chanting your display name, “yes bunny, take it— take it all,” thick ropes of cum paint his hand and thighs, over and over.

jesus christ🔥🔥🔥🔥

just came everywhere lmao!

he’s ruined, a shell of the cocky, egotistical exterior he had on prior. and all because of you.

his arm falls to his side, then, abruptly the screen goes dark, his laptop snapped shut without so much as a goodbye nary thank you to his loyal following.

there’s maybe a single second of silence before your phone explodes, vibrations one after the other alerting you to his frenzied messages.

edward🖤

ur fucking crazy

genuinely fucked

did you see how much i fucking came

do u want me to lose my mind??

was that u making it up to me bc shit

your heart beats a million miles a minute, if this was what happened over some low quality livestream, how would you ever cope with him in actuality? there’s not a chance in hell you’ll make it out alive.

🐇baby

so you liked it??

edward🖤

i’m abt to drive to your house rn

i’ll show you how much i liked it

loved it

i loved it

🐇baby

please do

i came twice lol

i want u

edward🖤

im gonna cum again

show me u rn

just anything

pls

you diligently open the camera, cheek pressed into the pillow with your eyes wide, gazing directly at him through miles of separation. in the most ludicrous way, it feels like he’s peering right back— together even though you couldn’t be further from it.

edward🖤

fuvkkkk gof

i’m cumming

i’m in love with u

come here

let me come ther idc

come on my face

five unconscious words were going to ruin your life forever.

[maysileessweets-deactivated2026]

loving machine

| eddie munson x fem!reader

eddie’s the type of person to keep you in his bed for as long as he can, he only lets you go because his uncle doesn’t know that he has a girlfriend yet, he’s not afraid of him finding out, he knows perfectly well that wayne would like you, he just doesn’t want to be scolded everyday about how he shouldn’t knock you up. he was always safe, knew you couldn’t afford to get pregnant or you’d die and he would too, but he still fucked you everyday 

‘and then, you know what she told me, she said i was a goddamn slut! can you believe that?… eddie. are you even listening?’

‘hmm’ you let go of his hair and looked away from him crossing your arms. to be fair he was listening to you but it wasn’t the same words coming out your mouth. something like ‘fuck eddie! yes faster please! fuck!’ 

‘i’m listening…what did she say again?’

‘she said i was a slut!’

‘well…’

‘eddie!’ you smacked his chest and pouted, ‘i’m not a slut!’ 

‘no no you’re not…but you’re my slut’

‘you’re not making this any better’ you were starting to get up from the bed but he pulled you back down hovering over your body

‘sorry, you’re not a slut. why would she say that? who are we talking about?’ you rolled your eyes, ‘let me make it up to you’ and he started to kiss your neck as you squirmed under him. you were just about to let him but you saw the clock, 6:49pm, eleven minutes till waybe would be home

‘no. we can’t your uncle is almost here’

‘shhh, it’s okay i’ll be quick’ 

‘eddie…’

‘it’s okay baby he won’t know’ he smothered his lips all over your face and your neck, slowly making his way down to your bare thighs. he took ahold of you and flipped you over and held you by your hair making sure you were on your knees. he wasted no time watching the clock tick by, instantly pounding you with his dick. earlier he was hearing you moan his name but as of right now it was him, ‘you’re taking me so well baby, just a little more, fuck!’

your pussy was clenching, taking his cock in like it was light work, your head was being pulled back by his hands as you whimpered with each thrust. you were never talkative during sex, just your moans and whimpers overpowering the room and eddie fucking loved that, made him even more prone to coming inside of you ‘eddie…6:57-’

‘i kn-i know baby. almost-almost there let me finish baby’ he let go of you hair now taking hold of your hips, helping you thrust your body into his because he needed to come so bad, 6:58: your head dropped and you were starting to tremble. 6:59: Eddie’s warm and sticky cum inside of you, the slick strands seeping out of your body as you put on your clothes and kissed eddie goodbye before leaving out his window 

‘love you baby’

the front door opened, ‘fuck you’ 

‘don’t be such a slut!’ and you stuck your middle finger at him while you disappeared into the distance. eddie smiled to himself, feeling the back pocket of his jeans, your wet panties he stuffed right before you left 

‘did you eat yet?’ he turned around to see wayne leaning on his door 

‘yea…yea i did’ 

requested by @julxsxx

[elegantpaperoperatormaker]

Drunk in Love

Gif by @/bi-loser, dividers by @/diviniyae

FWB!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: After a few too many drinks, secrets start to mean less and your skin starts to hum Eddie’s name, whether you feel it or not. He answers the call.

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, PiV unprotected semi-public sex, secret friends with benefits, cream pie, cum eating, little bit of oral (fem rec), dirty talk, drunk!Eddie POV, jealousy, possessiveness, panty stealing, begging, testosterone-off, small physical altercation (not R), desperation station, PDA, switch!Eddie, mild public embarrassment, dubcon (alcohol consumption; one-sided drunk sex), established relationship, Eddie is down horrendously, drunk!horny!Eddie abuses endearments, R wears a skirt (for easy access)

Song Rec: Drunk in Love by Beyoncé

A/N: Happy (almost) Valentine’s Day <3 Also, SURFBOAR— SURFBOAR— 

Masterlist

Submission Guidelines

Eddie feels good. 

Actually, he feels better than good—

He feels amazing.

The alcohol in his bloodstream is rushing, warming him from the inside out, leaving him flushed in the face. 

The smoky bar is playing old Judas Priest tracks. 

He’s drunk enough to not care how badly he’s losing the bet—the one he made thinking Steve would easily beat Robin at a billiards game. How was he supposed to know she was some kind of a whiz at Pool?

He’s got his girl to his right and the two bickering boneheads in front of him. 

A couple of beers, some smooth vodka, great music, and friendly competition.

What’s not to love?

Although, you do keep inching away from him every time he gets close. He’s not loving that new development.

Somewhere in the back of his mind—before the three pints and the two shots—he recalls your hushed voice in his ear, outside the bar. It was low and sultry. Scratchy and strained, but not like how it gets after a long day of talking. No—

It was the type of strain that happens when you’ve spent too many hours screaming his name. When too many breaths have torn from your chest, ragged and pressed out by the strength of his hips.

That type of strain is his favorite…. But you had said something then—

You leaned close. The music from the bar was leaking out into the muggy, open air of the parking lot. There was noise from the road nearby. Fast cars, rubber peeling off of wet asphalt—

Wet asphalt emanating heat and earthy scents—

And there was you. He could smell you, too. His favorite scent. The perfume you always leave traces of, like love notes he finds well after you’re gone. Proof of your existence in his bed, near his clothes, on him. 

You leaned close. Yes, because of the noise—the music, the cars. 

And your mouth brushed the shell of his ear and he shuddered. You laughed. Sweet and teasing. You laughed. 

He shuddered again, or maybe he was just vibrating with excitement—he could never tell around you. Then he felt what you were saying before you even said it. Your kiss-bitten lips curved so delicately around every syllable. 

You called his name. 

His favorite shape your mouth makes…

Well, that, and the stretch of—

No. No, you said something. His name. That’s what you said.

That and something else.

What was it?

He closes his eyes, trying to relive the moment— Your mouth against his ear, your hot breath on his skin, his name on your lips…

Fuck, he can’t remember. And damn it, you won’t let him touch you.

You just took yet another shuffle-step to the right. He didn’t even realize he was leaning into you until you did that 

Come to think of it, what you said before probably had to do with why you’re not letting him touch you now. 

Usually you love it. You welcome his zealous exploration. He knows that, you tell him through the prettiest sighs—

And what you said—well, it felt important at the time. You dropped his hand to say it, so it must’ve been. 

But as the golden glow of the hanging light fixture shines down on you, your hair glinting with every movement, his patchy memory no longer seems all that significant.

The sound of dense resin knocking together draws his attention to the table, the green surface missing one less solid colored ball. 

“Yes!” Robin calls out, pumping her fist victoriously.

“Shit!” Steve curses at the same time, stamping the butt of his wooden cue on the floor. 

 “Oof, rough go, Steve.” You smirk, pretty as a picture.

Eddie wishes you’d look at him like that. 

Subtly, he brushes his arm against yours—the one that’s holding your beer. His eyes practically roll at the heat rippling across your soft skin.

But you move away at the first contact. That’s really starting to get on his nerves. Because what, is he radioactive or something? What’s so bad about him wanting to hold you?

You lean forward. “Maybe if you—” 

“No speak from the opposition!” Steve shouts stiltedly, sending an accusatory finger your way. His eyes flit from you to the table as he strategizes his next shot. “I will not let your womanly wiles corrupt me—”

“Mm, I would,” Eddie purrs lowly, floating into your orbit. His leisurely efforts are abruptly halted, though, when you jab a knuckle into his side.

Steve paces, wearing a chasm into the chipped, creaky floorboards of the old dive bar. “If you had bet on me like you should’ve, then maybe I’d hear you out. But since you’ve left me scorned, I’d like to keep my dignity intact, thank you.”

“For now,” Robin simpers, sending you a side-long glance. “Or wait, do we think he had any to begin with?” 

“Mmm, jury’s still out—” you shrug, lips curled like you’re trying not to laugh at the frazzled man’s brewing tantrum.

Eddie giggles, “Dignity…Steve.” The words feel heavy on his tongue, like he’s dragging each syllable out a second too long. 

Steve grumbles—something about trading. Or maybe ‘trait-or’? Eddie doesn’t know, he’s too busy weathering the turn of the earth now that you’re looking at him again. It’s been forever since he’s held your attention, and he was nearly at the point of begging. 

It’s not just your eyes on him, though. You’re smiling, too. It’s that knowing smirk he loves. The kind that makes his knees weak and his pants feel tight. 

But then your lips twitch, smile faltering as you peer down at his finger hooked in the waistline of your skirt. And suddenly, you turn to him, shifting your hip out of reach. He opens his mouth, a complaint on the tip of his tongue when you force a half-drank bottle of beer into his outstretched hand with a terse, “Hold this.”

Straightening up, he gathers himself, prepared to shoulder any task for you—no matter how trivial. His responding, “Okay, baby,” is drowned out by Steve’s loud cheer after finally pocketing a ball. 

You turn back to Robin and Steve, leaving Eddie chasing after your gaze. “I’ll get the next round.” And just like that, you’re gone. 

He jogs after you, the floor feeling uneven as he stumbles through groups of people. You’re leaning against the bar, waiting for the drinks when he arrives, looming over you with heaving breaths. 

“Oh, baby, y’look so pretty tonight,” he grunts, wrapping an arm around your waist, trailing his lips up your neck. 

You whip around, hand shoving against his chest until he stumbles back a few paces. His eyes widen, stinging from the pain of rejection, and he feels minuscule under your cold glare. 

When you swallow, glancing somewhere behind him, he has to stop himself from moving into your eyeline. Because damn it, if you’d just look at him longer than a second—

“You need to stop,” you hiss. 

His head jerks back, the burn of nausea twisting low in his gut. “Wha—”

“You said you’d be good, Eddie.”

He is being good! He’s being so good! All he’s done tonight is stare at you and touch you—you love when he does that!

He opens his mouth to argue, but you cut in before he gets the chance to start. 

“You said you’d behave! So you better start now, or we’ll have to leave,” you grit out, stepping back from him once more. 

Following your movement, his overheating body crowds you against the bar. “No, please, don’t make us leave, baby,” he hurries, grabbing at your hips. “‘M havin’ so much fun, don’t wanna go—”

Your shoulders drop, you lean into him, and he almost closes his eyes, certain your lips will find his.

“Okay, then be-have,” you admonish, then turn to collect the drinks left behind by the busy bartender. 

Eddie decides he’d much rather have gotten a kiss than a warning.

Sliding out of his embrace, you march back to your party, a grumbled, “Just friends, Eddie. You promised they wouldn’t know—” fading the further you flee. 

And he feels like he just stepped into the Twilight Zone because what the hell? Why would he say that? That doesn’t sound like him at all—

“Thank God, gimme that,” Steve swipes a bottle from your arms, chugging it. He jabs a finger in Robin’s direction. “This woman wants me dead.” 

She snorts, then looks at you with an unimpressed glint in her eyes.

“Missed another shot?” you ask, brow quirked. 

“Multiple,” Robin confirms. 

“It is just not your night, is it, Steve?”

Before the beleaguered man can answer, Robin cuts in, elbowing him. “It’s never his night. That’s basically his whole thing. He’s, like, the personification of a Monday.”

Steve snaps, “Okay, that’s enough outta you. Just take the damn shot.”  

A loud clack, then a muffled thump into leather, and Robin laughs manically. 

Eddie watches you lean over the table, passing the girl her drink. Inch by inch, your skirt rises the more you reach, and his head drops to the side, weighed down by curiosity. 

He thinks of the black panties you shimmied on before coming here. He watched you then, just like he watches you now. Watched the way you wiggled the flimsy fabric over your ass, how the material covered your freshly fucked cunt so delicately. 

The same black fabric peeks out from beneath the hem of your skirt, only now, there’s a wet splotch between your folds, and he knows exactly what soaked through.

You straighten up—too soon for his liking—but Eddie’s still staring. Still leering at that cursed skirt. It’s never done him any good—always hiding you away. Then again, maybe it’s done him a world of good. It’s been the catalyst to many a sweaty tryst, that’s for sure. But right now, it’s useless fabric obstructing his favorite view. 

In the back of his mind, he vaguely registers the bickering going on around him, the music blaring. But his focus is divided between the sight of your upper thighs and the stirring in his pants. 

He reaches down to adjust himself, then quickly remembers the beer in his hand. The condensation beading down the glass has seeped into his skin, pruning his fingers. He doesn’t remember why he’s even holding the thing to begin with. 

Setting the bottle on a nearby table, he shuffles closer to you. You’re talking to Steve, and he’s not quite sure what you’re saying, but he hears you choke on your words the moment he presses against you. There’s a hiss of breath that sounds like his name, but his mind goes blank as tingling pleasure prickles up his spine, almost a relief of pressure. Or the temptation of relief. 

The feeling is small, but it’s intoxicating. Even more than the alcohol in his bloodstream. Because now he’s drunk on you. On what could be if he just bent you over and—

You cough, clearing your throat as you take a step forward—right up to the Pool table. Eddie grunts, grabbing your hips and dragging you back against him, this time with a stronger, steadying grip. 

“No, that doesn’t count as a mulligan— Hey! Ed, what the hell are you doing?”

Steve’s question falls on deaf ears, and your elbow digging into his ribs does nothing to deter his mission. Because the heat is building. In his flushed cheeks, in his muscles. Even lower. Incendiary friction sparks something dizzying and all-consuming. 

“Dude, at least let her breathe. No need to hover—”

He’s laughing, but Eddie doesn’t think it’s funny. Not when you slip from his hold, yet again, now an arms-length away. Too far. 

Your palms are planted on the glossy, oak edge of the table as you huff out something that sounds like it would’ve been a chuckle if it hadn’t collapsed halfway up your throat. “Think he just gets weirdly clingy when he’s drunk. Don’t know why I’m the victim, though—”

There’s a sharpness to your tone. It’s dulled by his inebriated ears. Undeterred, he closes in on you. “You’re so pretty, baby.”

The words slip out easily. Your shocked reaction only makes Steve laugh harder. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re really three sheets to the wind, dude—” 

Eddie ignores him, but then watches as he turns to you.

 “Does he think you’re someone else?” 

The question makes Eddie’s chest rumble. As if you could be anyone else. As if he could want anyone else this badly—

Wrapping his arms around your rigid frame, he can feel your ribs expand on the breath you draw in. Before a response tumbles past your lips, he squeezes you. Quick and firm. It’s the only warning he can manage without ripping fabric or leaving teeth marks on your delicate skin.

Because he knows what you’d say. He’s starting to catch onto the lies. And he’s not in the mood to play pretend anymore.

“How many has he had?”

Robin’s voice sounds distant as Eddie finds himself beside you again—not far, this time, but shucked off all the same—monitored under your eagle eyed gaze. When she calls your name, stealing your attention for…something about going home or taking a home, he can’t find it in him to care. Not about Robin’s itch for theft or Steve’s quiet, regarding stare.

He can smell your perfume. It calls to him, whispers of heat and closeness. Of the subtle change in the chemical makeup when you begin to warm beneath him, when his sweat mixes with yours. The evil scent pulls him in until his nose is running along your neck. You don’t jump nearly as much as you have been. He’s breaking you down. All he has to do is persist.

You reach across your body, finding his chest and he almost giggles at the half-hearted shove you give. Like it’s just for show. Like you don’t really want him gone. Then your fingers curl around the flimsy material of his shirt and he’s certain you don’t want him gone. How could you push him away if you’ve got a hold on him? 

With a groan, he presses his straining length against the underside of your other wrist, your palm still planted firmly on the edge of the table. It’s a slow, focused grind; his knees nearly buckle. Pushing harder as his own hands slide down your arm, he keeps you in place.

“Fuck, Eddie, st—”

“Holy shit, he’s like a cat in heat,” Steve mutters, cutting you off in what Eddie deems a particularly grating tone. It does nothing to aid the coiling need he’s trying to sate. 

Tension bleeds from your muscles in a slow-burning drip as your form sways just the slightest bit in his direction. He can feel you fighting the urge to melt into him. He’s waiting. Patiently. As patiently as he can without compromising his own desires.

Then, your chin tips and you whisper a lackluster, “Eds, seriously, not here—” over your shoulder. 

“Okay, what the fuck, man.” 

A large hand lands on his bicep, pulling him away from you. His heartrate spikes. 

A calamitous anger rages inside, catching like a wildfire through his veins. It feels like integrity but tastes like possession.

Whipping around, he smacks the arm away, blindly knocking the culprit back. 

“Dude! Actually get the fuck off her—”

“Steve, it’s fine!”

Your sharp tone slices through the fog in his mind; it settles the devastation inside, canning it for another time. He stares at your back as you move between him and a very angry-looking Steve. Chest all puffed out, the ex-jock is the picture of chivalrous defense, and he can’t help but grin. 

If the good knight only knew the things you’ve let Eddie do to you…

“Yeah, Steve,” he drawls, his heavy-lidded gaze sliding from the incensed man to you, the one-woman garrison emboldened by altruism and bolstered by sweetness. He inches closer; a shadow encroaching on the light, a predator going in for the kill. “She said it’s fine.”

His palms hover over your skin, consuming and reveling in the heat. Up your arms, around your shoulders, and back, he maps out your body, admiring the winding curves he’s traversed many times before. The simmering rage of the man in front of you only encourages his quiet appreciation. 

Slowly, delicately, he leaves a chaste kiss where your neck meets your shoulder. 

You tremble, blinking like you mean to steel yourself. 

And his grin widens. “See? She likes it—”

Steve snaps into action, but Robin is quicker, throwing her arm out in front of him. At the same time, you grab Eddie’s wrist, yanking him after you. 

“That’s it, I’m taking you home.”

He lets you drag him away, tossing a smirk over his shoulder. Steve tries to ask if you’re sure and you only let out a clipped, “See you guys later,” in response.

Eddie can’t help but congratulate himself on yet another successful victory. You’re his. You’re choosing him, again. A room full of people and you’re taking him home. 

He somehow feels both stone-cold sober and wasted beyond belief, all from your fingers digging into his pulse. And the alcohol. There’s that, too. 

Weaving through meandering patrons, the exit sign comes into view. You’re talking, but he can’t hear you. The words float ahead, jostled and spliced by the whining guitar riff peeling from the surrounding speakers. He hears the anger, though. It doesn’t bother him.

Once the door closes behind him, the stuffy bar now in his rearview and the night air filling his lungs, he drops his weight back, no longer moving so willingly.

You grunt, but otherwise seem unfazed. Only tightening your grip and continuing your lecture—

“—at fault. I mean, seriously, we fucking agreed! It was mutual! We said we didn’t want the dynamic to change, then you down a few too many, and now all of a sudden, you’re measuring dicks with Steve. I mean, you might as well’ve just pissed on me—it was too fucking obv—”

Pebbles kick up beneath his skidding shoes as he finds his balance. 

“Oh, sure, make this harder than it has to be. You’re great at that—”

The last word catches in your throat as he pulls you the opposite way, back to the bar. You stumble, trying your best to resist, but he’s moving you easily.

“Eddie, what the fuck did I say? If you can’t behave, we’re leaving. We’re not going back— Agh—”

Pressed against the brick wall of the building, hidden in the alley beside it, your complaints fall to unintelligible nonsense as Eddie attacks your neck, lips ravaging any sliver of skin he can find. His body envelops yours, keeping you still with a force he can’t find it in him to tame, especially for the sake of propriety. Not now. Not after waiting so dreadfully long. 

“E-Eddie, slow d-down, Jesus—”

“Can’t,” he grunts, finding his way to your mouth, mumbling like a wanton man. “I need you, baby. Need you so fuckin’ bad—” His hips jut forward, searching for reprieve from the miserable strain of his jeans. 

When your back arches, he sinks his talons in, blunt nails biting and fingers digging as he clings onto you. Because in this moment, you’re the only thing keeping him from falling off the face of the earth; he feels it racing beneath his feet. Your eyes on his, the taste of your lips—it slows everything down. 

“Shit, you’re so pretty. So, so pretty—” 

Every word is mindless, slurred, but true. Inhibition has long-since died a silent, restful death inside him, buried somewhere low, near the hearth that never stops burning for you. 

His hands grope and grab at anything they can reach—your ass, your thighs, your arms, your breasts. Anything. All of it keeps him here for one second more. Grounded in your softness. Steady on your terrain. 

“Eds, we—we have to go,” you gasp, pliant beneath his roving touch. He closes the gap, tongue tangling with yours in a sloppy, searing kiss that makes his mind whir and his ears fill with a fizzing sound.

“Nuh-unh, wanna stay,” he pants, nipping at your pulse point, feeling your blood rush. “Wanna stay with you.”

His hands slip beneath your skirt as you hold onto his shoulders. You give a weak push when his fingers pull at the gusset of your panties, but it’s not nearly enough to deter him. 

“We can’t st—ay, fuck— You’re drunk, Eddie. I don’t even know how you’re hard right now.”

He hums, straightening to his full height and pressing you harder against the wall. His breath comes fast; he can’t seem to catch it as he watches you. 

How is it not obvious?

“‘S you,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your temple. “‘S all you. Makin’ me burn…. Makin’ me want you so damn bad it hurts.” 

You swallow, lashes fluttering as you lean into his gentle touch. “I’m sorry I hurt you…but we can’t do this. Not he—”

“You don’t want me?” His voice is brittle. Breaking. 

A night full of small rejections comes to a head as the weight of your words—sincerity and conviction threaded through every syllable—crashes into him, a frenzied tidal wave leaving wreckage in its wake. 

He only manages to retreat half a step before you’re pulling him back, arms wrapping around his neck. 

“I do want you,” you rush, pressing imploring kisses onto his rosy cheeks, tiny promises sealed with sticky lipgloss. “I always want you.”

His vision blurs as he peers down, frizzy curls hanging low in his eyeline. Confusion is a bitter thing as he finds the hem of your skirt. There’s mercy in the feeling of the grooved stitch beneath the rough pads of his fingers. 

“Even now?” he asks, low and timid for the first time tonight. 

Your arms release him, trailing down the sinewy plane of his chest. You lift his shirt only an inch—just enough for your nails to find his flushed skin, enough to feel him twitch as you explore so freely. 

“Always.”

He pauses, searching for something in your gaze. Or, maybe something in the silence. And it’s the silence that answers. 

With a hurried breath, he tears at your panties. It’s a quick, controlled rip, and he stuffs the fabric into his back pocket. 

You gasp, but he drops before you get the chance to scold him. His jeans do little to mitigate the sting of gravel as his knees hit the ground. He hikes your thigh over his shoulder, disappearing under your skirt. 

“Ed— Oh, God!”

His face drags through your folds, nose catching on your clit as his tongue sinks into you, plunging as deep as it’ll go. But the thundering ecstasy of finally tasting you—and himself—is cut short when you tug at his hair with a force far too sharp to be pleasurable. He groans, missing your heat as you haul him up to his feet. 

“Eddie! We can’t do that here,” you bite out, glancing behind him. “That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

The worry in your brow catches on something inside him, and if he had the right words, he’d make it go away. But there are no right words, only burrowing panic and gnawing desire so deep, it’s almost torture.

“Please, baby, I’ll be good,” he pants, pawing restlessly at your body. “I swear to God, I’ll be good. Just— Just let me— Ah, Jesus!” His forehead falls to your shoulder and he hangs onto you, a firm grip on your ass as he pulls you into him. The movement is meant to alleviate, to save his sanity, but all it does is remind him of your denial, of the space he can’t close, and the release he can’t reach.

Your fingers begin to soothe his scalp. He matches his breathing to yours; in and out, in and out, in and out. 

Curious and tender, you mutter, “It’s really that bad?” 

He shakes his head, lifting it to meet your concerned gaze. 

You don’t understand. You can’t possibly know what it feels like. This dull ache. Persistent, like a gnat in his ear, it’s been with him all night, made worse by you. Your perfume, your soft touch, the glimmer in your eyes. The distance, the act, the canyon between words and truth. 

It’s all a great pain. An infection that’s been festering for hours. You have the medicine and you won’t give it to him.

His voice cracks, “So bad. I’m achin’ for you, can’t you feel it?” His hips jerk forward as he waits for your response, but the silence is too loud. He can’t stand it. 

“You’re just so pretty…” Dazed, his eyes rove over your wrinkled top, fabric askew and showing more skin than you started the night showing. “‘N so soft.” Ducking closer, he rumbles out a drawling, “Mm, you smell so good.”

Again, you look behind him, somewhere just over his right shoulder and he sways, chasing your gaze. 

“And you can’t wait ten minutes to get to your apartment?” you ask, eyes narrowed. 

He sags against you, a whine crawling up from deep within his throat. “No…. No more. I’ve been waiting all night. I can’t— I—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I hear you. Just— Hey, Eds, look at me—”

Your palms cradle his head and he can smell the lavender hand soap he put in his apartment just for you.

“Be quick,” you whisper, tipping your chin to hold his attention.

He perks up, swallowing harshly as he stares at you, trying to decode the two simple words. But you might as well have spoken another language because his mind is running circles around the meaning, never through. 

“Hey—” Your eyes dart downward, stall there, then you close the distance. 

It’s messy and wet and he can still taste you on his tongue—smell you smeared on his skin—but you don’t seem to mind as you deepen the kiss, your mouth parting around a moan. It’s over too soon, though. 

A delicate string of spit connects him to you as you pull back.  “Take what you need, ba—”

He’s moving before you even finish the endearment, hands racing across your body, tugging at fabric, kneading skin—anything he can touch. His jacket is around your shoulders in no time, protecting you from the rough brick. The cuffs on his belt clang as he unfastens the homemade contraption, the button of his jeans next.

“Oh, thank you, baby,” he breathes into your mouth, using his full weight to trap you against the wall. “Thank you, thank you—shit! You’re so good to me,” he whimpers, bucking his hips as he frees his length, wrapping a hand around the base until it throbs beneath his unyielding grip. “So fuckin’ good to me. Wanna be good to you, too.”

He fumbles a bit, struggling to move while still trying to maintain every point of contact he can. Once he manages to pick up your thigh, hitching it onto his hip, he guides the blunt tip of his cock through your slick folds. A soft mewl escapes you and the sound only makes him twitch, a stream of sticky precum dribbling from his slit. 

“Wanna be inside you. God, I always wanna be inside you—”

Your voice cuts him off, strained with a familiar need as your forehead falls to his. “Please, Eddie— Please just fuck me already, I can’t—”

His body responds before his mind even registers the plea, jerking forward until he’s buried deep inside you. A resounding groan echoes through the empty alleyway, drowning out your shrill cry. Though, you have enough sense to slam a hand over your open mouth, muffling the lewd noise

He, however, is too drunk to care. Drunk on the alcohol humming in his bloodstream. Drunk on the feeling of your walls squeezing him so tight, he could count your heart rate just from the pulse of your pussy alone. 

“Ohh, my—fuck! Jesus, fuck—you’re tryin’ to kill me, you’re tryin’ to kill me,” he babbles incessantly, squirming from the pressure. 

Your hand drops to his shoulder, holding onto him so tightly, your fingers pinch. “E—ddie, shh—ah!” 

Torturously slow, he pulls out. Your cunt clings to him, contracting—almost a proper plea to stay—and yet, you seem to revel in the drag of his length. He knows you feel it. The thrum of his veins, the curve that stretches you, the thick ridge that catches on your entrance. 

With just the tip inside, he shudders, his head hanging as he stares downward. The bright neon sign on the corner of the building beams, making his cock shine with your arousal.

He pauses. 

Then, his hips snap forward, marking the start of a suffocating rhythm as he forces the breath from your body with every thrust. He moves wildly, a frenzied pace with one intention, and one intention only. 

“Oh, God, oh, shit, baby! You feel s’good.… Takin’ such good care o’ me—thank you! Thank you— S’sweet to me—” he pants, slipping a large, heavy hand behind your neck until your gaze drops, joining him as he watches himself disappear inside of you. “Ah, look at that— Mmm, so pretty when you’re full o’ me.” 

The wiry hair at the base of his shaft begins to stick to his skin, weighed down by the mess he’s making out of you. Glimmering slick forming a milky ring, droplets splashing from the strength of his thrusts. A giddy chuckle rumbles through his chest, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he admires just how wet you are. How wet he makes you.

The sound of his leather jacket scratching against the brick fills his ears as he falls against you, muscles straining. Your eyelids droop low, but your gaze hasn’t moved from where he’s fucking into you. His mouth finds yours, lips gliding as he hungrily swallows your every moan. 

Sweat beads at his hairline, and his nails sink into your thigh, drawing you impossibly closer. Because he needs more. He needs all of you. Your walls are pried apart by his thick length and it’s still not enough. 

He lets go of your neck, pushing two fingers into your mouth. “Suck.”

His breath turns ragged and you finally look at him, your eyes dark and glossy as your lips reach his knuckles, your cheeks hollowing out in that way that always makes his knees buckle. His hips jerk, rhythm shifting at the memory.

He can feel the flames spreading, overtaking the hearth, but he’s not ready yet. He’s not done with you. 

His fingers fall from between your lips as he reaches below, pressing tight circles into your clit. You choke on your breath and the sharp sound makes him grin.

“Yeah, there you go, sweetheart. Fuck—you’re so tight! Squeezin’ the life outta me— God, I know you wan’ it—cum for me. Soak my fucking cock,” he grits out, watching your eyes roll with rapt attention. “Mark me, baby, drown me—”

“F-Fu— Eddie!” 

Your back arches and you go rigid; he knows you’re on the very edge. He knows you. He knows the exact high your voice reaches before you come undone, and even though you’re trying not to, he knows you’re losing yourself.

“Give it to me,” he drawls, practically purring at you. “Give in, baby. Please, I know you need it—”

“Shh, shh, we have to—b—e quiet! You have t—o keep it d— Oh, God!”

Your cunt clenches around him, tighter than he can handle after suffering from your denial for so long. You're moving against him now, convulsing and chasing after the pleasure like an ebbing wave. His body starts to curl inward, but he tries his best to keep a good enough pace. Your moans ring in his ear as he drives into you, shivering at the obscenely wet sounds.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! F-Feels so— God, ‘m g-gonna fill you up, baby. Hm? You wan’ it? Wanna feel full o’ me? Wanna hold it for me? You’re always so good at it—”

His breathless words seem to have no effect on you as you settle limply, held up by his frame and the wall at your back. You give no indication that you heard him, there’s only the flutter of your lashes and the lull of your head against the brick. His palm presses against your neck, just enough to keep you still, to hold your far-out gaze. 

“You listenin’? Hm?” he pants, landing a firm kiss on your slackened mouth. “Y’gonna empty my balls for me, baby? Know you love to feel me drippin’ outta you.”

Your cunt responds with a weak pulse. He chuckles, only to be cut off by his own sputtering groan as a particularly deep stroke shoots right through him. You whimper, and he knows he’s the only thing keeping you from buckling to the ground as your arms struggle to wrap around him.

“E-Eddie…”

Static buzzes in his mind as you mewl, soft gasps hiccuping in time with his pounding thrusts. His hand drops low, splaying just beneath your navel. Then, he presses, relishing the catch in your breath. 

“Ah, there I am,” he mutters, going dizzy at the feeling of his cock-head nudging his palm. “Here, right? Y’gonna keep me here, baby?”

You nod, letting out a frail, broken sound that tells him all he needs to hear. You want it. Need it, even.

His eyes roll, balls pulling taut as his rhythm falters. “Oh, f-fuck! Jesus Christ, you’re made f’me—you are,” he grunts, nosing against your neck. “Fit together so nicely. Hmm, made f’me, made to be full o’ me—”

Your face crumbles as you clench around him once more, another orgasm rolling in, quiet as a tide, and this time it’s softer. He can still feel you shake, but there’s a dragging sense of freedom. Of letting go.

And you drag him with you. Under the tide. Under the surface where everything sounds fuzzy and he feels weightless. 

“Jesus—fuck! Ah, shit!”

He gives one final, deep thrust, burying himself inside your heat as he spills into you. Waves of pleasure crash through him, so overwhelming, his hips stall. He shivers, almost violently, and his words tumble out, barely loud enough to be a whisper. “God, baby, thank you. T-Thank you. Shit—you’re so good to me.” 

He stays like that—arms wrapped around you, your fingers in his hair—for a while. It’s only when you shift, repositioning yourself against the wall, that he picks his head up. Indulging himself in your gentle kiss. His languid lips speak a sweetness far greater than his words could manage at the moment.

“I feel better now,” he mumbles, letting himself explore along your jaw, lazy and sated, but needing to taste you all the same. 

“Yeah, I bet,” you snort, tucking his hair behind his ear, then twisting a damp curl around your finger. 

With much reluctance, he finally pulls out, both of you wincing at the loss. He fixes himself quietly, buttoning his pants again and hiding his smile as he notices you squirm. You adjust his jacket over your shoulders and smooth your skirt. His eyes follow the movement and all he can think about is how much he wishes he could just sit on the ground beneath you and watch himself leak out of your pretty pussy. 

But then you clear your throat, motioning to the end of the alley and he offers his arm. You smirk, shaking your head as you accept his offer. As he passes under the neon sign that says, “Bar,” he stares at the entrance to the building.

“Mm, I wan’ a beer,” he hums wistfully, starting to veer off course.

“Unh-unh!” Both of your hands circle his bicep, yanking him back. “No, we’re leaving. I’m taking you home.”

“But—”

“No ‘but’s.” You continue to drag him further away from the bar, heading toward his van. “You’re going home, then you’re going to sleep. And tomorrow, you’re gonna call up Steve and apologize for trying to fight him.”

Eddie’s face twists up, a sharp scoff falling from his lips. “‘M not apologizing. He was trying to touch you—”

“No,” you utter pointedly, digging into his back pocket—ignoring his quiet, “Hey, buy me dinner first”—and pulling out his keys. “He was not, that was you. He was trying to stop you because he thought you were being a perv.”

“I was being a perv,” he grins, watching you unlock the van. You shove him into the passenger side and he gracefully complies, settling in a haphazard huff. His eyes follow you through the windshield as you speedwalk around to the driver side door, which he reaches across the console to open for you. 

“An unwelcome perv,” you amend, climbing into the seat. You check the mirrors first, then turn the key in the ignition. Eddie sighs contentedly as the van rumbles to life, the tape he mixed for you already filtering through the stereo. 

He leans close, looming over you. With exaggerated slowness—a test, a toeing of boundaries—he drags two fingers up your thigh, beneath your skirt, until he feels the sticky combination of his cum and your slick smeared against your skin. “Knew you liked it,” he purrs lowly, sucking the digits clean. 

Your breath comes quicker and shakier as you give him a sidelong glance. “You’re disgusting.”

His grin stretches into something wolfish, something predatory and ostensibly clear-headed, despite the glossy look in his eyes and the sway in his body. Quickly, he makes another swipe between your legs, this time relishing the hitch in your throat as he grazes your warm, puffy folds. He shrugs, admiring the milky gleam on his fingers before taking them into his mouth once more. “Chef’s gotta taste his own food.”

With that, your trembling hand lands on the gear shift and the van jolts into reverse. 

A/ N: Guys, is this anything? Let me know🧎‍♂️It’s been in the drafts since October🥀  Also, it's the one year anniversary of me writing fics :) One year ago (almost to the day), I posted this rambling drabble. Since then, my work has improved so much, and I’ve gotten to talk to so many of you about your Eddie thoughts which is all I ever wanted from this.  Thank you for reading my silly, not-so-little ramblings. Thank you for making this an enjoyable space to create in. Thank you for always showing up to my ‘Is anyone interested in…’ posts with 110% enthusiasm. And thank you for talking to me about my writing. I think that’s what I appreciate the most—how much I get to connect with y’all over what I’ve worked so hard on. I love reading your reactions to my fics, I cherish them so deeply. I’m also glad you feel comfortable with me and enjoy my writing enough to want to hear my thoughts on your Eddie ideas. I love this space and I’m glad you guys are always down for a little chitty-chat.  Thank you for sticking around and taking an interest in my work and especially me as a person <3 Love you guys <3

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[obsessedwithitall]

Yep wow

[steveharringtonsbat]

☆ cheerleaders and lunch tables ☆

pairing- eddie munson x cheerleader!gf

summary – If there's one thing you know about high school it's that nerds and cheerleaders don't mix. They're on two completely different levels of the social hierarchy. So what did everyone think when you and Eddie started dating?

use of y/n, kissing, fluff!! really short !

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“Dude, I just heard the craziest rumor.” Dustin grinned, slamming his lunch tray – filled with what looked like non editable food – on the table, occupying the seat next to Mike.

“What was it?” Eddie asked, not tearing his gaze from you as you happily waved to him from the other end of the cafeteria.

“Someone said you were dating y/n.” He laughed and he nudged Mike roughly in the shoulder and rambled to Gareth about something.

“What a stupid rumour.” Mike scoffed.

“S’not a rumor.” Eddie murmured, giving you a small wave back.

“Very funny Eddie, Ha. Ha.” Dustin replied, resisting the urge to groan at his lies.

“S’not a rumor.” Eddie blanked, giving you a hand signal to come to his table.

“That’s bullshit.” Mike butted in, glancing up to see you wandering over to Eddie.

“Woah.” Gareth blurted.

“No way she’s coming over here.” Mike murmured.

“Holy shit!” Dustin exclaimed, giving a pearly grin as you shyly smiled back.

The whole cafeteria's eyes were on you but you couldn't give a shit.

“Hey.” You smiled, as he embraced you in his arms, making you giggle, spinning you around and making sure to cover up your tiny skirt.

“Hey sweetheart.” He grinned, cupping your jaw and giving you a soft kiss as you heard surprised voices in the background but not paying any attention to them.

“Hey, missed you Ed’s.” You giggled, trying to keep the smile off of your face but failing.

“You absolutely beautiful in your uniform, I-I mean you always look beautiful I just—“ He rambled nervously.

“Thank you baby, you too, the shirts very sexy.” You giggled seeing how cute he got when he was nervous.

“Sit down with me?” He blushed, as you felt the material of his shirt, hands sliding up his sides as he played with the green ribbon in your hair.

You nodded eagerly, wanting so badly to meet all of Eddie's friends that he always talks about.

“Y-Yeah.” You whispered, sitting down on the open seat next to Eddie as a couple of faces stared at you with astonishment all observing what just went down.

“Hi.” You laughed, seeing how starstruck they were as if you weren’t a regular girl.

“You’re y/n.” Gareth exclaimed.

“That I am.” You giggled, putting your hand out for him to shake.

“But you’re like the most popular girl at school.” Mike questioned.

“And she’s my girlfriend.” Eddie grinned.

“And how exactly did this all happen?” Dustin asked, curiously.

“I accidentally went into hellfire club instead of cheer practice and it all kinda just started there I guess.” You smiled, playing with eddie’s untamed curls as the boys all watched.

“I can’t believe you actually came over here.” Dustin grinned proudly, liking yoy already.

“Yeah, I doubt a cheerleader has even sat here on purpose.” Mike remarked.

“Well I like it a lot more than the jocks and snotty girls.” You muttered not bothering to stare back at your old table.

“You’re really pretty.” Gareth uttered, earning a glare from Eddie.

“Thank you.” You replied, feeling eddie’s hand clutch yours under the table.

“Gareth, dude.” Eddie warned.

“Sorry.” He whispered.

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like, reblog and comment if you enjoyed !!

part two??

request box is open too <33

[obsessedwithitall]

Cute 🩷

[lacyrry]

Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin' || E.M

Eddie Munson x Reader

word count: 5.2k

18+ MDNI SMUT

a/n: eddie didn't die, okay? okay. also i hope i did it right !!!!

-

request: yes ; no

request here! @ameliebd

The trailer door creaks shut behind you, sealing out the cool March night air of Forest Hills Trailer Park. It's late—Wayne's on his night shift at the plant, leaving the place quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the crackle of the Black Sabbath record spinning on Eddie's beat-up turntable. The Upside Down's scars linger like bruises, Vecna's shadow a fresh nightmare neither of you talks about much anymore. But tonight, you're both determined to drown it out.

You and Eddie are sprawled across his bed, the mattress sagging under your combined weight, surrounded by empty beer cans and the ashtray overflowing with roaches. The joint you just passed back and forth has left everything soft around the edges—colors brighter, laughter easier, the world reduced to this tiny room with its posters of Metallica and Dio taped crookedly to the walls, strings of Christmas lights that never came down, and the faint smell of weed, patchouli, and Eddie's leather jacket slung over the chair.

He's propped against the headboard in nothing but faded black sweatpants and that ripped-up band tee that shows off the tattoos snaking up his arms, curls wild from running his hands through them all night. You're curled beside him in an oversized Hellfire Club hoodie you stole from his closet months ago, legs tangled with his, passing the joint one last time before you stub it out.

"Remember that time in '83 when we convinced the whole lunch table the cafeteria meatloaf was laced with government mind-control serum?" Eddie says, voice low and gravelly from smoke, grinning like the memory still cracks him up. His eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide from the high.

You snort, head lolling against his shoulder. "Yeah, and Tommy Hagan actually threw up trying to 'purge the toxins.' God, we were assholes." Your giggles turn into full laughter, the kind that makes your stomach ache, and Eddie joins in, the sound rumbling through his chest where you're pressed against him.

You've been like this since freshman year—Eddie the freak, you the quiet girl who sat with him anyway, trading mixtapes and secrets in the back of the library. Friendship turned into something deeper over the years: stolen glances during campaigns, his hand lingering too long when passing a D20, the way he'd play softer songs on his acoustic when he thought you were asleep on his floor. Neither of you said it out loud. Too scared of ruining what you had. Rejection would shatter everything.

The Sabbath track winds down, needle scratching into silence. Eddie reaches lazily for the stack of records beside the bed but misses, too high to coordinate. "Your turn, sweetheart. Pick something. I'm too baked to move."

You roll off the bed with exaggerated effort, knees hitting the worn carpet. His vinyl collection is chaos—metal mostly, some punk, a few weird imports—but you dig toward the back, behind a stack of Iron Maiden sleeves. Your fingers brush something unexpected: a glossy cover you recognize instantly. Journey's *Evolution*. You pull it out, staring.

"Eddie Munson owns Journey?" You hold it up like evidence in a trial, eyebrows raised.

He squints, then laughs—deep, sheepish. "Don't tell anyone. Wayne got it at a garage sale thinking it was metal. I kept it 'cause... well, some of it's not terrible. And you like them, right? Mentioned it once."

Your heart does a stupid flip. "Yeah. I do." You slide the record onto the turntable without asking, dropping the needle on your favorite: "Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'." The opening guitar riff slinks out, sultry and slow, Steve Perry's voice sliding in like velvet.

You make me weep and wanna die

Just when you said we'd try

Lovin', touchin', squeezin' each other...

The high makes everything feel electric. You stand, swaying instinctively, hips rolling soft and slow to the beat. Arms lift, head tilts back, body curving in lazy, sensual waves. It's not performative at first—just the music pulling you—but the lyrics hit different tonight, raw and needy, mirroring the ache you've both ignored for years.

Eddie watches. He doesn't even pretend not to. Propped up, joint forgotten, eyes dark and fixed on you like you're the only thing in the universe. The way your borrowed hoodie slips off one shoulder, exposing skin; the slow grind of your hips; the way you bite your lip when the chorus hits—*Lovin', touchin', squeezin' each other*—it all feeds the thoughts he's kept locked down. Filthy ones. Hands on you, mouth on you, finally claiming what he's wanted since the day you laughed at one of his dumb jokes and stayed.

When you spin and catch him staring—lips parted, breathing shallow, obvious bulge straining his sweatpants—you don't stop. The high makes you bold. You saunter closer, dance turning deliberate, teasing. "See something you like, Munson?"

His voice comes out rough. "You have no fucking idea."

The song builds—When I'm alone all by myself, you're out with someone else—and jealousy flickers in his eyes, even though it's irrational. The thought of anyone else getting this close to you twists something in him.

You step between his spread legs, hands on his knees, leaning in so your faces are inches apart. "Then do something about it."

He grabs your waist, yanking you down to straddle him in one fluid motion. You gasp, grinding instinctively against the hard length of him. His hands slide under the hoodie, palms hot on your bare skin, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts.

"I've wanted this forever," he confesses, voice wrecked. "Every time you crashed here, every campaign, every stupid movie night. Thought you'd laugh if I said it. Thought I'd lose you."

You cup his face, thumbs tracing the sharp lines of his jaw. "I've been in love with you since sophomore year, Eddie. Scared shitless you'd think I was just another girl chasing the 'freak' phase."

His laugh is breathless. "You're everything." Then his mouth is on yours—hungry, desperate, tasting like smoke and beer and him. Tongues slide, teeth nip, hands everywhere. You rock against him, moaning into the kiss as the song loops into its bridge: *You're tearin' me apart, every, every day...*

He flips you onto your back, hovering over you, eyes wild. "Tell me you want this."

"I want you," you breathe. "All of it. Now."

Clothes come off in a haze—hoodie yanked over your head, his tee tossed, sweatpants shoved down. He's hard, leaking, pressing against your thigh as he kisses down your neck, sucking marks that'll bruise tomorrow. His mouth finds your breasts, tongue circling one nipple while fingers pinch the other, drawing whimpers from you.

Lower. He kisses your stomach, hips, inner thighs, spreading you open. "Fuck, you're soaked," he murmurs, voice reverent. Tongue flattens against your clit, slow circles at first, then faster, sucking gently. Two fingers slide in, curling, pumping in time with his mouth. You arch, hands fisting his curls, hips bucking.

"Eddie—fuck—don't stop—"

He doesn't. He eats you like he's starving, humming against you so the vibrations make you see stars. The high amplifies everything—every lick, every curl of his fingers, every scrape of teeth. You come hard, thighs clamping around his head, crying his name as waves crash through you.

He doesn't let up until you're trembling, oversensitive. Then he's crawling back up, kissing you deep so you taste yourself on his tongue. "Need to be inside you," he rasps.

You nod frantically. He grabs a condom from the nightstand drawer—always prepared, even if unprepared for this—and rolls it on with shaking hands. Positions himself, nudging at your entrance.

"Slow," you whisper. "Want to feel everything."

He pushes in inch by inch, stretching you, filling you until you're both gasping. "So tight... fuck, baby..." He bottoms out, hips flush, pausing to let you adjust. Forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged.

Then he moves—slow rolls at first, dragging out every sensation. You wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass, urging him deeper. The pace builds, thrusts turning harder, faster. Skin slaps, bed creaks, the record still spinning that endless na-na-na outro like a filthy soundtrack.

He hits that spot inside you over and over, hand slipping between you to rub tight circles on your clit. "Come for me," he growls. "Wanna feel you squeeze me."

You do—clenching around him, nails raking down his back, leaving red trails. He groans, thrusts erratic now, chasing his own release. "Where—?"

"Inside," you gasp. "Please, Eddie—"

He buries deep with a broken moan, pulsing inside you as he comes, face buried in your neck. You hold him through it, legs locked, bodies slick with sweat.

He collapses half on top of you, both panting. The record finally ends, needle scratching softly.

After a long moment, he lifts his head, eyes soft. "No more hiding, yeah?"

You smile, tracing the lines of his tattoos. "Never again."

He kisses you slow, sweet. "Good. 'Cause I'm never letting you go."

@ali-r3n

[obsessedwithitall]

Yes

[peachmelty]

𐙚 eddie accidentally walks in on you changing in the locker room at school and falls in love with the cute pair of panties you're wearing. WARNING(S) + OTHER INFO: eddie is 19 / reader is 18. unprotected sex.

first period gym is always a mess — half of hawkins high barely awake, the other half already sweaty and irritable. and eddie munson is always both after the first period of the day this year ; a schedule he didn't ask for, rather one that was thrust upon him by the school guidance counselor. he trudges out of the locker room with his backpack flung over one shoulder, muttering to himself about dodgeballs being ❝ weapons of jocks who peaked at sixteen. ❞

he desperately needs to pee before homeroom ; his morning coffee and cigarette are already staging a rebellion.

he tries the boys’ bathroom first, of course.

but finds every single stall occupied.

each one of them echoing with the sounds of boys talking through the stalls, arguing, or pissing for 5 minutes at a time. like, seriously, it takes a guy that long to pee?

eddie huffs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and scans the hallway. he has a thought — despite high school girls' proclivities to linger in and outside of bathrooms together doing god knows what, the girls' bathroom by the female locker rooms has usually emptied by this time ; no normal teenage girl wanted to spend any prolonged amount of time sweaty and gross by the gymnasium. no, they definitely wanted to get the hell out of there so they could go back to gossiping or snogging their boyfriends in the hall.

quickly, practically skipping over that way before his bladder has a chance to explode, eddie hovers by the doorway, listening.

nothing. not even the squeak of a shoe.

❝ two seconds, ❞ he mutters to himself. ❝ get in, get out, don’t get suspended. ❞

he steps forward —

— and realizes the angle of the bathroom entrance gives him a clear view straight into the girls’ locker room.

who the hell designed this shit?

he freezes.

because someone is there.

he really doesn't mean to look. truly. he stops because he doesn't want to get caught trying to get into the girls' room, not because he's a creep.

but you . . . god, he'll blame you for this until the day he dies.

you're just pulling your pink t-shirt on, your plain white PE shirt discarded on the bench beside you. your arms are raised, hair falling over your shoulders in soft waves. and below the hem of that shirt . . . well, any self-respecting man wouldn't have been able to look away from you. and eddie munson certainly would not have described himself as ❛ self-respecting. ❜ his dark gaze hits soft, lacy pink panties — dainty white trim, pink satin bows, something so delicate and pretty they don’t even look real in the fluorescent lighting of the dingy locker room.

eddie’s brain short-circuits and he finds himself unable to move.

his lips actually part.

his heart jumps so hard against his ribcage that it startles him.

his cock strains immediately against the front of his jeans.

god hates him personally, he's sure of that.

and every fantasy he’s shoved down all year — the ones about you, about the popular girl with the smile much too pretty for him — flashes like lightning behind his eyes.

he doesn’t mean to make the sound he makes.

but something slips out anyway — a tiny, breathless little exhale, almost a whimper, definitely a sigh — the kind that only happens when your nervous system completely abandons all dignity.

and you hear it.

you turn.

slowly.

eyes wide.

expression shifting from bored to startled to something sharp and then, offended.

eddie’s stomach drops straight through the floor.

you caught him.

you caught him staring.

at you. half-naked.

and it looks like his worst nightmare. it looks exactly like he’s been standing there purposely to watch you getting dressed.

his face blanches. you've never seen anyone so white before.

❝ shit. hey. ❞ he stumbles back a step, hands up, panic rising. ❝ i — i wasn’t — i mean, i didn’t— ❞

he may have been able to mutter some excuse and just back up and leave, but.

his hard on is what kills him.

because your gaze is sinking lower and lower, your eyes widening.

the fact that you can tell how turned on he is only serves to ratchet his arousal even higher. the penis is a traitorous thing, if it's anything at all.

you quickly snatch up your PE shirt from the bench and use it to hide your lower half. not that there's any point — he's already seen everything there is to see. ❝ pervert! ❞ you accuse. your voice cracks on the last syllable, like you're not sure whether to throw something or hide your face in your hands.

only then does it occur to eddie to look away.

he turns his face away, covering his eyes with the palm of his hand for good measure. but the sight of you is well and truly seared onto his eyelids. ❝ no! i swear, i — i'm not. i was just coming to see if the bathroom was free. everyone's hogging the fucking stalls in the boys' room. i swear to god! ❞

there's a very pregnant pause, like third trimester pregnant, in which eddie separates two of his fingers to peek through at you.

standing there, breathing heavily, still with your PE shirt dangling in front of you. ❝ . . . seriously? you didn't come in here just to . . . try to see girls naked or something? ❞

❝ no! oh my god, no. i seriously . . . i have to pee so bad. ❞

❝ then go! ❞ you shout suddenly, and eddie flinches.

hurrying into the bathroom with a ❝ okayjesusi'msorryfuck! ❞

locking himself in one of the stalls, he pauses, leaning against it. his heart is racing, breath coming fast to match. god, you . . .

your legs, fuck, he can't help it. and those panties, jesus . . .

so pink and cute. eddie's never seen anyone wear such cute underwear, not even the few girls he's been with over the years. well, the girls he's had sex with probably wouldn't ever have been caught dead in a pink top let alone pink underwear.

but you. you had such wide eyes, pretty little lips, long, satisfying legs. not to mention that little sliver of ass that showed just below the lacy trim of those panties . . . eddie licks his lips, head rolling against the stall door.

his cock throbs and he palms himself through his jeans. how the hell is he ever supposed to pee like this?

well, he has to find some way to go ; if he walks out of here still with an enormous erection, you'd probably take the matter to the principle or some shit. and you'd be well within your right to.

god . . .

eddie does his best to piss and urge his hard on down in record time. he thinks of the most unsexy things he can bring to mind — santa clause, sad movies, the nightly news — and then finally feels well enough to leave.

it's only taken him a couple minutes, but he's hoping you've been able to get dressed and head out in that time.

but when he steps out of the bathroom you're still there. fully dressed now, but sitting on the nearby bench with your hands clasped together and your head hung low.

he would feel bad just leaving without saying anything, so he starts, ❝ hey. i really didn't mean to — ❞

❝ you have to promise, ❞ you tell him suddenly. the look on your face is fierce, and eddie has no doubt that you'd absolutely ruin him and his reputation ( what little is left ) and get him kicked out if he doesn't do as you say. you stand swiftly. ❝ promise me that you weren't looking on purpose. swear. like, swear on your mother's grave you weren't. ❞

his hand is over his heart before you can blink. ❝ i promise. and i swear. on my mother's life and her grave. i wasn't looking at you. i mean. that i didn't mean to. i seriously just came to use the bathroom. ❞ bad idea, now that he thinks back on it.

should have just held it.

you chew the inside of your cheek, apparently mulling over his words. ultimately finding him sincere enough, you nod. ❝ okay. you can go. ❞

there's a brief moment where the two of you look at each other, your eyes flicker down to eddie's jeans and then back up again, curious.

but eddie rushes out of there just as the homeroom bell rings.

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the halls between second and third period are always packed — lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking, the usual high school cacophony. eddie’s doing what eddie does best after class : leaning against his locker with the hellfire guys clustered around him, ranting loudly about some especially cursed arc he's planning for the campaign on friday.

he’s mid-sentence, halfway through defending himself against wild accusations that he's a sadistic dungeon master, when he feels it.

that prickle down his neck.

that someone’s watching you feeling.

he looks up.

and there you are, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

and there he is, replaying the scene again in his mind for the 17th time in the last two hours ; pink lace hugging such a plump ass, gorgeous hips running down from under your shirt and into those adorable panties.

it's a miracle he doesn't pop a boner right there in front of all his friends.

and a good thing he doesn't, too, because he realizes you are walking straight toward him. you look like a girl who's on a mission, a girl who has the upper hand.

eddie panics immediately, because, he remembers, you do.

his voice cracks halfway through explaining, ❝ guys, your party hasn't really been tested heavily yet — ❞ he can't take his eyes off of you.

he's making no effort to disguise the fact that he's looking at someone across the hallway.

dustin follows his seemingly blank stare. ❝ dude . . . whoa. ❞

gareth mutters, ❝ what is . . . is she coming over here? to us? ❞

eddie doesn’t even have time to tell them to shut the hell up.

you stop right in front of him.

up close, god, you look even better than he remembers. and he absolutely does NOT look at your legs this time. or your hips. or anything he is scared of accidentally remembering too vividly. no, nothing else he's spent hours in bed at night fantasizing about. even though much of it was on display earlier, right there, just for him, if only you knew him. knew he wasn't a bad guy, didn't worship the devil or any of that bullshit people were saying about him and other people like him, kids who had ❛ weird ❜ interests.

he braces for you to publicly humiliate him. he deserves it, he supposes, for what happened earlier.

you say, very calmly, betraying nothing of what happened earlier, ❝ munson. i've decided you owe me. ❞

the hellfire boys collectively inhale like they’ve just witnessed a murder.

eddie can't decide what's worse — the fact that his friends are looking between the two of you, bewildered, and he's going to have to find some way to explain to them what happened earlier. or would it have been worse if you'd just screamed at him, gotten it all out in the open so the whole school would know what a disgusting pervert eddie munson was, along with being a freak and a devil worshipper?

eddie’s ears go nuclear red. ❝ i — i told you i didn’t mean — i didn’t, uh . . . invade anything or — ❞

you narrow your eyes. ❝ i know. you promised. i appreciate that . . . do you want to make it up to me or not? ❞

eddie nods so fast the ends of his long hair almost hit mike in the face.

❝ good. ❞ you step closer — close enough that he can smell you, something soft and sweet and some perfume that's definitely expensive. the hellfire club — in tandem — takes a step back and away from the two of you, but eddie somehow stands his ground in the face of you. ❝ take me for ice cream. at the mall. friday after school. ❞

there’s a half-second of stunned silence — the kind that doesn’t usually exist around eddie, because he typically fills every spare inch of air with noise. but right now? he’s speechless.

and of course that’s exactly when the club finds their voices again.

mike sputters first, ❝ wait — friday? but — but friday is hellfire. ❞

dustin’s eyes go wide under his cap. ❝ yeah, eddie. you literally said missing one session throws off the narrative structure of the whole campaign — your words, not mine — ❞

gareth throws his hands up. ❝ dude, you made us sign attendance sheets. attendance sheets. for dungeons & dragons. ❞

eddie whips around like a panicked, cornered animal. ❝ guys, guys — shut up — shut up — ❞ he hisses, waving at them without taking his eyes off you. ❝ i’m — busy. friday. okay? very important business. top secret. national security. ❞

mike looks like he’s about to faint. dustin looks personally betrayed.

you arch a brow, arms still crossed, entirely unbothered by the melodrama imploding behind him. ❝ is that a no, munson? you're really too busy fighting demons to buy me a scoop? ❞

and god, the way you say it — mocking him, but warm underneath, like you already know he’s going to fold — it just about finishes him off.

❝ saturday? ❞ he tries to offer quietly.

❝ i'm busy saturday. ❞

eddie straightens up, tries to pretend he has even one ounce of swagger left. ❝ uh — yeah. yes. absolutely. ice cream. friday. consider it . . . owed. ❞

dustin makes a noise like he’s swallowed a kazoo. ❝ you’re canceling hellfire for a girl? you've never cancelled hellfire, not even once. we still came to club even when you had bronchitis! i mean, what even . . . ❞

eddie doesn’t even look back this time. he just sticks an arm out and shoves dustin’s face gently away like he’s silencing a toddler. ❝ priorities, henderson. ❞

you almost smile — not fully, but enough that eddie feels it like a punch straight to the gut. he thinks he might actually die. it's almost better than seeing your ass in those delicious panties.

almost.

❝ good,❞ you say again, nodding softly. stamping an official seal on the arrangement. ❝ friday. after school. we can leave from here. don’t be late. ❞

and then you turn, disappearing back into the crowded hall without so much as a glance over your shoulder.

eddie stands there frozen, locker at his back, heart somewhere near his shoes, friends staring at him like he’s just announced he’s defecting to soviet russia.

mike is the first to break the silence, whispering, horrified, ❝ dude . . . what the hell? ❞

but eddie? eddie just stands there, feeling like a lump.

because he now has a date with one of the most popular girls in school and has to figure out how to explain to the boys exactly how that happened.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the food court at starcourt always smells like an oil spill baking in the desert heat — fryer oil and fake cheese and that intense, cloyingly sweet smell from the pretzel place. you must, on some level, be immune to it by now, because you're sitting there like you own the place, leaning back, relaxed, a melting cup of roasted strawberry ice cream in front of you. you must come here every weekend with your friends.

eddie, however, is hyper-aware of everything else.

the way every table feels too close.

the way half the kids from hawkins high are filtering through, doing double takes.

the way two girls at the scoops ahoy counter that eddie recognizes as hawkins cheerleaders whisper behind their straws and stare.

one freshman boy literally almost falls into a trashcan because he’s so busy gawping, and apparently mesmerized, at the sight of you sitting pretty with eddie "the freak" munson across from you.

you don't seem to notice.

or maybe you do — maybe you're just pretending this is normal, like you come here all the time with the losers of the school.

eddie stirs his own ice cream, two scoops of mint chocolate chip, tapping the plastic spoon against the cup. ❝ so — technically — i don’t actually play, ❞ he says. he's clearly passionate about this game, this D&D — he's talking about it like it's something sacred and ancient. ❝ i’m the DM ; the dungeon master. i run the story. the monsters. the world. the . . . uh, chaos. ❞

you blink. ❝ so you don’t actually . . . fight anything? like, as a character? ❞

he snorts. ❝ no. hellfire is my kingdom. i’m basically a god. but, like, a very stressed out, underpaid god. ❞

you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding — a tiny, relieved little exhale. you look down into your soft serve like it just told you a secret.

eddie tilts his head. ❝ what? ❞

you hesitate, fiddling with your spoon before murmuring, ❝ i . . . thought D&D had something to do with, like . . . satanism. ❞

eddie chokes on absolutely nothing. seriously, he's not even swallowing any ice cream when he does.

and he really chokes.

full body cough.

a kid at the next table over jumps.

❝ jesus christ, sweetheart — ❞ he wheezes once he recovers, leaning in toward you, ❝ satanism? seriously? i mean, i like metal music, but we don’t, like, sacrifice goats in the woods on friday nights. i’ve barely got the energy to stay awake during homeroom. ❞

you laugh — a cute little tinkle that makes eddie's head spin — and shake your head. ❝ i know. i mean, now i know. it’s just . . . people say things, i don't know if you've heard. and the news . . . and one girl told me that your club played with actual spellbooks, so i kind of assumed . . . i don’t know. that you guys were doing something dangerous. ❞

eddie makes a face like you've personally offended him, and maybe you have. ❝ yeah, the most dangerous thing those kids do is eat an entire pizza while we're taking a break. dustin once drank a two liter of mountain dew in one go and almost died. that’s the level of danger we’re dealing with. ❞

your shoulders relax, and you look at him with those clear, bright eyes that eddie could just fall into.

❝ i thought you’d be mean, too, ❞ you admit quietly. ❝ or scary. you know. the whole ❛ freak ❜ thing . . . the rumors. i figured you’d be . . . intense. or angry. i don’t know. i mean, you are intense. clearly. ❞ you laugh gently to show him you're not being rude, just making an observation. ❝ but you’re not mean. you’re actually . . . nice. surprisingly nice. ❞

eddie’s face goes pink — not the dramatic blush from earlier in the week, but something subtler. warmer. his ringed fingers twitch like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

❝ well, uh . . . thanks? i try not to be a jackass unless provoked. or unless someone insults my van. or my band. or my campaign. ❞

you grin into your spoon. ❝ so . . . often? ❞

❝ okay, wow. rude. ❞ he points at you with his spoon. ❝ i buy you one — extremely overpriced — cup of ice cream and suddenly i’m the punchline. ❞

you frown. ❝ i'm not a bully. ❞

❝ coulda fooled me, the kids you hang out with. ❞

your frown deepens, and you both look at each other for a long minute.

and that’s when you notice it — the stares. the looks. the not-at-all subtle curiosity of your peers.

a group of basketball players walks by, whispering. one of them lifts his brows at you like he’s silently asking if you're doing this as some kind of dare.

two sophomores pass by and giggle.

a girl from your math class keeps glancing between the two of you like she’s witnessing an honest to god miracle.

eddie shifts a little, shoulders tensing, but he doesn’t get small the way you expect. he doesn’t shrink. he just sits up straighter, tapping his rings against the table, pretending that the entire food court isn’t buzzing about the freak sitting with a girl way, way out of his league.

after a moment he mutters, ❝ you can leave, you know. if this is, uh . . . too weird. i mean, i know you asked me, but. ❞

you look up.

really look.

his eyes are dark and nervous and hopeful in a way that makes your chest do something uncomfortable. goodness, you realize he has the longest eyelashes you've ever seen on a man.

❝ i’m not leaving, ❞ you say, soft but firm. ❝ it’s just ice cream, munson. people can stare if they want. i don’t care. ❞

eddie blinks.

like he wasn’t expecting that.

like he doesn’t quite know what to do with the fact that you’re still here, that you’re not afraid being seen with him might turn you into a total social pariah.

you take another bite of your ice cream, pretending your heart isn’t beating too fast.

then: ❝ besides . . . the rumors were wrong about you anyway. you’re not a freak. ❞

eddie swallows, hard.

he doesn’t say anything for a second — just watches you, stunned, like no one has ever said something like that to him before. maybe they haven't. it's quite possible no one has ever been nice to eddie munson in his life. the hellfire club boys, sure. they've been friendly with him. but maybe what eddie needs is someone sweet, someone to baby him — just a little.

finally, he clears his throat. ❝ well… don’t say it too loud. people might think you actually like me or something. ❞

you look at him over the rim of your cup.

❝ maybe i do. ❞

eddie pulls a face. ❝ what, from one conversation over some ice cream? ❞

❝ do i have to remind you what happened earlier this week? ❞ eddie's entire face goes blood red ; he's remembering as you talk. ❝ i believe you. i know you weren't looking on purpose. i think you handled it better than most of the popular guys at school would have. they probably would’ve kept staring until i threw my backpack at them or something. and . . . ❞

you mull over what to tell him, how much to reveal. ❝ . . . maybe i noticed you before that. saw you in the halls between class, at lunch with your club. maybe i was . . . curious. ❞

eddie scowls, dark brows pulling close together over even darker eyes. ❝ even though you thought i was mean? that you thought i was an evil, satan worshipping freak? ❞ he says it like he thinks you're trying to pull the wool over his eyes, like he's trying to catch you in a lie.

❝ sure did. but . . . was hoping you weren't. was hoping you were secretly sweet, that you were even better than most of the boys i hang around with. they suck. ❞

eddie doesn’t know what to say, so he just very slowly eats another spoonful of his ice cream.

does he believe you? you hope he does. everything you’ve said is nothing but the truth.

❝ anyway, ❞ you sigh, playing idly with your ice cream and thinking of how to change the subject and make things less awkward. ❝ . . . i never knew D&D was just like lord of the rings. maybe i would’ve played sooner. ❞

there’s an aborted little movement from eddie’s side of the table that startles you. ❝ you’ve read the lord of the rings? ❞

❝ i’ve read just about every fantasy series there is to read, ❞ you explain with a shrug. ❝ i just . . . like reading. ❞

the look in eddie’s eyes changes now, becomes darker ; it looks like he has a secret he’s unwilling to tell you. ❝ jeez, princess. if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were the perfect girl. ❞

you try hard to just take what he’s said as a compliment. it’s hard, though, with that little caveat he snuck in there. ❝ oh, and you do? know better? ❞

your hand and eddie’s hand are laying side by side on the sticky tabletop. eddie’s fingers twitch toward yours. when he speaks, his voice is low, probably to avoid being overheard by any of your passing classmates. not because he’s ashamed of what he’s about to say, but because he doesn’t want to embarrass you. or have people start to spread nasty rumors about you the way they do about him.

❝ i know you’re pretty. very pretty. what i don’t know is why you’re sitting here with the school outcast giving people a reason to hate you. especially after i . . . y’know, on tuesday. ❞

in a microscopic movement, your fingers meet his, your knuckles now laying together. you aren’t sure who moves first, but eventually your fingers are brushing, back and forth, against each other’s, in the smallest of movements. even just that little bit of affection is enough to make you melt.

you lean toward him, trying to keep your cool and not just crawl all over him right here at the mall. ❝ eddie. in a year, none of these people will matter. their opinions, what they said, the things we did, it’ll all just be history. so let them talk. who gives a fuck? ❞

eddie blinks at you like you’ve just said something groundbreaking. your words — the way you just cursed casually, the confidence, your edge of defiance — they hit him straight in the gut. because that's not how you present. he feels it in a place he knows he shouldn’t, in that exact same traitorous spot from tuesday morning. his fingers twitch against yours, restless, and you let your thumb curl around his index finger, comforting. eddie looks at your entwined hands and then away, scanning for anyone still paying attention to the two of you.

❝ remember what i said, ❞ you mutter, pinkie extending to lay against his warm wrist. ❝ fuck ‘em. ❞

❝ jesus, you’re something else, you know that? ❞ his voice is low too, private, just for you.

you smile a mischievous smile, taking a slow lick of your ice cream, making sure his eyes are now locked on yours. ❝ something good? ❞

eddie swallows so hard you can see his throat working through it, because yes. very good. good enough to make his stomach twist and his cock throb in his jeans. ❝ yeah . . . definitely good. ❞

he leans closer, slowly, still careful not to attract any more attention than is necessary, though he can’t quite hide the way his entire body has gone taut as a bowstring. god, you want to make him come undone. ❝ so . . . uh . . . this is going to sound insane, but . . . jesus, please don’t call me a pervert again, but. ❞ his voice dips lower, teasing you, but still uncertain. ❝ those panties. tuesday. they . . . they were kind of . . . distracting. ❞

you pause, spoon frozen halfway to your lips, eyes flickering down to where he’s turned his hand over in yours, fingers full on skimming back and forth over the sensitive palm of your hand now. there’s a faint flush in your cheeks, and maybe — maybe — a smile that hints you’re enjoying the game he’s playing. ❝ distracting, huh? ❞ your tongue darts out, slices through the mound of soft ice cream on your spoon. ❝ oh really, eddie? kind of distracting? ❞

eddie’s teeth sink deep into his lower lip. ❝ yeah . . . kind of — no. you know what? not kind of. very. very distracting. don’t think i’m gonna forget what i saw. ❞

still his fingers sweep over your palm ; there are goosebumps prickling your entire arm.

you shiver in spite of yourself. ❝ eddie? ❞

your eyes are so wide, your tone so desperate . . . he panics. ❝ hm? hey, what’s wrong? did i say something? i still swear — i didn’t mean to look earlier, i promise it wasn’t on purpose. I would never — ❞

❝ eddie. take me somewhere we can be alone together. please. ❞ you’ve turned your hand over, effectively pinning his to the table. you are desperate, desperate for him. desperate for the way his lashes brush his cheeks every time he blinks, the way his lips move, the perfect timbre of his voice.

you’ve never wanted anyone this badly, and you’re sure he can tell.

he doesn’t have to be told twice. with a nod, he grabs your hand and starts to lead you back through the food court, abandoning your ice creams as you slip past curious glances and whispers until the large glass doors of the mall’s main entrance come into view.

but eddie doesn’t lead you there. he takes a hard turn and pulls you down a side hallway that looks like it might be just for maintenance.

you trust him, though, so you let him keep going, pushing through a small side door and into the brisk night air. into a world of abandoned furniture, wooden tables stacked crookedly, couches leaning against the wall, metal shelving scattered like a maze. the powerful docking bay flood lights hit the dust motes floating in the air, catching on your hair, making eddie catch his breath.

❝ wow, ❞ you sigh, looking around at all of the furniture. ❝ what is this? ❞

eddie shrugs, starting to pick his way past a garish settee. ❝ you told me to take you somewhere private. ❞

you can’t hold in a well-meaning giggle. ❝ yeah, i figured you were gonna take me back to your place. ❞

❝ oh. damn. well . . . i can still do that. ❞ he turns back, ready to leave.

❝ wait, wait. i wanna explore back here now. this is cool. i never knew this kind of stuff was back here.❞

❝ oh, yeah. back of the furniture store. i’ve only been here a couple times, but didn’t take me long to find this place. they don’t guard it very well. clearly. furniture graveyard back here. ❞

❝ you can hardly call it a graveyard, most of this shit is brand new. ❞ you stand on a plush red velvet footstool, trying to track eddie’s movements through the maze of furniture.

he seemingly picks out a suitable armchair the size of a small car, motioning you over.

grabbing your hand and helping you maneuver through the wreck of items, he makes sure you’re safe before taking a seat in the armchair.

eddie pats his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like of course this enormous abandoned armchair was meant for this — for you, for him, for whatever this is turning into.

you roll your eyes good-naturedly. ❝ seriously? ❞

eddie’s grin goes crooked, boyish, a little smug in that way he can’t quite hide around you. ❝ yeah. seriously. unless you’d rather sit on . . . ❞ he gestures vaguely at a nearby plastic patio chair missing one leg, the saddest item at the party. ❝ . . . that. ❞

you sigh, but it’s useless — you’re already moving toward him. already letting him guide you by the waist as you settle onto his lap.

his hands are warm. too warm, scorching your skin wherever they touch.

you sink into him, into the solid feel of his chest against you, the curve of the massive armchair cupping you both like a secret. you shift a little until you’re comfortable — which is sort of a lie, because there’s nothing comfortable about the way your heart is slamming around in its cage, nothing comfortable about the way his breath hitches when your thighs brush his.

eddie exhales through his nose like he’s trying very, very hard to be chill.

❝ well, hey there, princess, ❞ he murmurs, voice low enough to vibrate against your side. ❝ makin’ yourself right at home. ❞

❝ you told me to, didn’t you? ❞ you tease, turning halfway toward him. in this position, your legs are thrown over the side of the armchair, your bum seated comfortably atop his lap.

eddie’s eyes flicker briefly to your mouth. ❝ yeah, but i honestly didn’t expect you to be so . . . obedient. ❞

you shove his shoulder lightly. ❝ shut up. ❞

❝ no, i mean — ❞ his fingers flex on your hips, steadying you when you shift. ❝ — not complaining. definitely not. ❞

you can feel him adjusting under you, just slightly. enough that you know. enough that he knows you know.

your skirt drapes over your thighs, soft against his jeans, and when you move again — just a tiny test — eddie makes a noise like someone hit him with a truck.

you pretend you didn’t hear it.

he pretends he didn’t make it.

his hand — the one with all the rings — drops to your bare knee, barely touching. just fingertips. just testing. when you don’t flinch away, those fingertips glide up an inch. warm. slow. deliberate.

❝ you okay? ❞ eddie whispers, and you nod. your eyes feel hot, almost like you could cry. but it’s only that this is such a new sensation for you. you’ve never let anyone touch you like this, never trusted anyone to, not even some of the popular guys you’ve known for years.

why is eddie different?

instead of asking or saying any of that, you purse your lips. ❝ are you okay? ❞

❝ oh, sweetheart, ❞ eddie murmurs, thumb brushing the soft, tender underside of your knee now, ❝ not even close. ❞

you shift again — not on purpose, probably — but it doesn’t matter. his hand tightens on your knee, just enough to hold you still. just enough to tell you he feels everything.

you swallow, heat curling low in your stomach.

❝ eddie… ❞

❝ yeah? ❞ he nudges the side of your jaw with his nose, like he’s testing how close he can get before you push him away.

you don’t push him away.

his fingers slide higher, tracing the warm skin of your inner thigh, disappearing under the hem of your skirt like he’s trying not to rush but absolutely is.

your breath stutters.

eddie feels it.

he leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice a rasp.

❝ you tell me to stop if you want. otherwise . . . ❞ his thumb strokes higher, bolder, ❝ . . . i’m gonna keep going. ❞

your hand covers his on your thigh — not to stop him.

but to guide him.

eddie makes another noise, this one even more alarming, though you don’t know how that’s possible.

you pull back a bit, just enough to look at him, to make sure he’s okay.

eddie looks like he’s drowning, dark eyes melting into yours as you continue to push his hand higher. ❝ gonna let me see those pretty panties again? ❞ he demands to know. ❝ gonna let me touch ‘em? ❞

your hand stops. and so does his. you’re shivering, breathing heavily, feeling like you could shake apart if he left you right now.

❝ not here, ❞ you mumble pitifully, and eddie nods.

❝ okay. ❞

unable to bear it anymore, you close your eyes.

and that’s when he kisses you.

eddie kisses like he’s been wanting you like this for years.

not timid, no longer even a touch hesitant. just hungry — that kind of desperate, relieved hunger reserved only for starving men faced with a meal and drug addicts who just got their fix.

his lips crash into yours, hard and warm, over and over, and your whole body jolts. you realize you’ve been hungry, too. starved for touch and affection and anyone who truly cared about you. he cups your jaw with one hand, thumb sweeping your cheekbone, the other arm locked tight over your legs like he thinks you might leave.

you melt instantly.

you don’t mean to — it’s instinct. the second his mouth opens against yours, your fingers go to his chest, clutching at his shirt, pulling him closer even though there’s nowhere left to go. he’s already pressed against you everywhere — chest firm, thighs solid under yours, the heat of him pushing up through the underside of your skirt.

the kiss deepens fast — too fast — like he’s been imagining it, like you’ve been torturing him just by existing. his breath tastes like the mint chocolate ice cream he’s been enjoying and something bitter underneath, but not unpleasant. something unmistakably eddie.

his nose bumps yours when he tilts his head, clumsy, eager, borderline messy, which only makes this more real. his mouth fits against yours in that perfect, greedy way that makes your thighs tense and your stomach leap into your throat.

eddie groans — a low, rough, startled sound — the second your lips part from his. it vibrates through his chest and into yours, and you swear you could come undone from that alone.

and then he’s pulling you up, hands strong on your waist. you gasp as he lifts you bodily and sets you down with your thighs now on either side of his. you can feel him now. really feel him. underneath your skirt, your underwear — similar to the pair you wore on tuesday, just with less bows and more lace — come into contact with the rough material of his jeans, tented by a very obvious erection. you really hope you’re not making an absolute mess down there.

his fingers slip into your hair, tugging gently, guiding your mouth open under his once more. his rings are cool against your neck when he cups the back of your head, holding you exactly where he wants you.

and you kiss him back with the same needy, aching urgency — because you want him, too. because you’ve wanted this longer than you’ll admit. because nothing has ever felt like this.

eddie breaks away just an inch, your foreheads pressed together, breathing hard.

❝ i have to admit something, ❞ he breathes.

you make a tiny sound, questioning. please don’t admit you’re actually a pervert who really does love spying on girls in the locker room, you think desperately.

❝ you said — ❞ he has to stop, catch his breath, swallow thickly. you soothe him with a hand at his jaw, thumb stroking over his heated skin. ❝ you said you noticed me before, in the halls at school? i noticed you, too. fucking everywhere, baby. in the halls, in class, at assembly, during PE. i’ve thought about you . . . fuck, i’ve thought about you so much. never thought i . . . i mean, what chance did i have with you? the freak of hawkins high? ❞

❝ don’t say that, ❞ you chide, grabbing for one of his hands, which you bring to your lips so you can kiss the inside of his wrist. that area smells so strongly of him you almost pass out. ❝ if we had just . . . i dunno, been paired for a project or . . . sat at the same lunch table, it sounds like this would have happened sooner. ❞

eddie’s dark gaze is cemented to yours, and his voice drops as he continues, like he’s afraid his words might shatter the moment if he speaks them too loudly.

❝ when i saw you standing there in those lace and bows, babe, you looked like — ❞ he exhales, shaking his head a little, disbelief curling at the edges of every syllable. ❝ like a fuckin’ elven princess straight out of one of my campaigns. swear to god, you looked all soft and pretty and . . . fuck. those panties. ❞

his fingers dig suddenly into the meat of your thigh, just under the edge of your skirt.

❝ pink lace. little bows. like you stepped right out of my brain and into that locker room. ❞ he kisses you again, softly, and against your lips he asks, ❝ . . . do they all look like that? or were you wearing those for like . . . a special occasion? ❞

you huff a laugh, smiling into the kiss. ❝ most of them. ❞

he pulls back and his brows lift, hope flaring.

❝ i mean, i have some normal pairs. but most of them are cute like that, yeah. ❞

eddie makes a sound that’s halfway between a choke and a moan and you grab anxiously for his fingers again, slipping them up and under your skirt. ❝ eddie, you can. you can touch. i just . . . i wanna wait until we’re back at your place to have sex. ❞

❝ we don’t have to, ❞ eddie tells you, and at your disappointed look he squeezes your thigh again, reassuring. ❝ i just mean, we can do whatever you want. i’m happy using my fingers or . . . my tongue. don’t feel like you owe me anything. ❞

❝ i want to, ❞ you let him know, urging his hand as high as it’s been now.

eddie watches you carefully as his fingers crawl up the tender skin of your thigh, and just as his thumb presses into the rough lacy edge of the cute lavender pair you’re wearing tonight —

❝ jesus christ, ❞ he mutters. ❝ you’re so fucking pretty, i don’t even deserve to look at you, let alone touch you. ❞

he’s suddenly tense against you, shoulders locking like he’s remembered who he is, where he stands in the pecking order of hawkins high. his hand falters under your skirt, like he’s about to pull it away entirely.

wanting anything in this moment but to lose his warm skin against yours, your palm slides to his cheek, warm and steady, fingers threading into his hair — which is surprisingly soft — to keep him right where he is.

❝ hey, ❞ you murmur. ❝ i told you not to think like that. or talk like that. ❞

his eyes flicker to yours, dark and uncertain.

❝ i’m not . . . too much for you? ❞ he asks quietly. ❝ or — i don’t know — wrong? ❞

you lean in and kiss him again, slow this time. not frantic. not rushed. just enough to make your meaning unmistakably clear.

when you pull back, you keep your nose brushing his.

❝ eddie munson, ❞ you whisper, ❝ i wouldn’t be letting you kiss me in the back of this mall if you weren’t exactly right for me. ❞

something in his face breaks open at that.

he swallows hard, then blurts, ❝ were you really gonna go to the principal? ❞

you blink. ❝ what? ❞

❝ after tuesday, ❞ he admits, embarrassed. ❝ i kept thinking you were gonna ruin my life, expel me or something. ❞ he may hate school, but there’s a reason he hasn’t dropped out yet.

you smile — remembering how you had indeed threatened to take the matter to the principle if eddie didn’t take you out. ❝ no. ❞

his eyes widen. ❝ no? ❞

❝ no, ❞ you repeat. ❝ i was just hoping you’d ask me out. ❞

eddie stares at you like you’ve just told him gravity isn’t real.

❝ you’re kidding. ❞

❝ i’m not. ❞ you shrug lightly, thumb again tracing the line of his jaw, that place you can’t stay away from. ❝ i figured if i scared you a little, you might actually do something. ❞

he lets out a breathy laugh, stunned. ❝ you are . . . terrifying. ❞

❝ worked, didn’t it? ❞

his answer is another kiss — deeper, slower. that thumb finally pushes its way beneath the band of your underwear, stroking the sensitive skin of your waist now. which leaves his other fingers reaching around, clenching at your backside.

you shiver, pressing in close to him. ❝ eddie? take me home now? ❞

eddie nods and stands immediately with you still in his arms.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the drive to eddie’s place is . . . tense, to say the least.

he keeps drumming his fingers nervously on the steering wheel and glancing over at you until you sigh and reach over for his hand, place it on your thigh for him.

only then does he seem to calm, hand ghosting back and forth over your leg, although he does still look over at you periodically, like he’s still expecting you to scream for him to stop touching you.

when he makes the final turn, he takes a sharp breath and says, ❝ guess i should’ve mentioned i live . . . here. ❞

the van rolls to a stop in front of a trailer — porch light humming, dirty metal stairs leading up to an even dirtier front door.

❝ mhm, and? ❞ you already knew eddie lived here with his uncle, it wasn’t a secret. it was one of the many things jason carver and his goons liked to make fun of eddie for.

❝ well, it’s not exactly a house. ❞

❝ duh. ❞ you tug on his hand and whine, ❝ eddie. come on. ❞

luckily, he obeys without much more obstinacy, hopping from the van and coming around to your side to open the door for you.

❝ my lady. ❞ he speaks in a very good british accent, bowing low, clearly putting his D&D skills to good use.

with a giggle, you take his hand and let him lead you to the door.

it’s gotten fairly cold out, so you stand shuffling from foot to foot as eddie unlocks the door.

even after you’ve gotten inside, you waffle by the entryway, shivering as eddie flits around turning on lights. ❝ if you’re hungry, i think there’s some pizza in the fridge. i also always have pretzels lying around here somewhere. ❞

he’s coming back for you down the hallway where he’s turned on a side light, mumbling something about, ❝ sorry it’s kind of a mess in here. my uncle works nights and — ❞

you greet him with a kiss, giving meaning to the phrase ❛ throwing yourself at him. ❜ his mouth is wet and hungry under yours, steadying the two of you as he stumbles back with his arms around you.

yours are flung around his shoulders, on tiptoe in order to be able to continue kissing him properly. ❝ eds. touch me. ❞

eddie makes a low sound into your mouth — one you can only describe as needy — and his hands find you instinctively, both under your skirt, suddenly gripping your ass.

❝ goddamn, is that . . . ❞ his breath catches in his throat and you step forward to latch your lips to his adam’s apple. ❝ is that . . . silk? ❞

❝ satin, ❞ you correct him with a smile, worrying your teeth over his skin. he’s going to have one hell of a hickey on his throat monday at school.

❝ god, ❞ he murmurs. ❝ you’re gonna kill me. ❞

you smile against his neck. ❝ bedroom, then? ❞

that does it.

he laughs and takes your hand, tugging you down the narrow hallway. he stops halfway down to bang on the thermostat. ❝ sorry it’s kinda cold. heating system’s ancient. it should warm up in here soon. ❞

you merely run your free hand down his arm, trying to convey the sentiment that you don’t care, that there are more important things to be taken care of.

eddie’s room is lit but dim, familiar, lived-in ; band posters, scattered clothes, the faint hum of something electric in the background.

the door barely clicks shut before he’s kissing you again.

slow and deep, eddie memorizing every single one of your gasps and moans.

his hands are careful but everywhere — skimming up under your shirt, on your waist, under your skirt again — grounding himself in the reality of you standing here with him.

at some point, foreheads pressed together, he exhales shakily.

❝ can i ask you something? ❞

you nod, nose brushing his again.

❝ are you . . . ❞ he takes a lock of your hair and places it gingerly over your shoulder, stroking your tresses like you’re a doll to be pampered. ❝ is this your first time? ❞

you nod.

eddie’s hand stills in your hair. ❝ really? figured you’d have guys throwing themselves at you. ❞ his hand meets your waist again, squeezing as if to say ❛ how are you a virgin, looking like this? ❜

❝ guys try, ❞ you admit. ❝ but i really need to trust someone to want to do that with them. ❞

he studies you for a long moment, thumb tracing slow circles at your hip.

❝ and you trust me? ❞

another nod ; you’ve never been more sure of anything.

something in his chest visibly gives.

❝ jesus, ❞ he whispers. ❝ you have no idea what that does to me. ❞

he kisses you again — reverent now — starting to shuffle you back toward his bed.

❝ we’ll go slow, ❞ he murmurs against your lips. ❝ okay? ❞

❝ okay. i trust you, ❞ you tell him again.

❝ thank you. ❞

the both of you toe your shoes off and when he pulls you down with him onto the bed, it’s with care, letting you scoot up the bed until your head is on his pillows. everything smells so much like him now you never want to leave.

he flattens the messy covers around you and when he opens his mouth, you can tell he’s about to apologize again. for what, this time? for how disorganized his room is? for how cold it still is? just for being eddie munson?

you cut him off before he can. ❝ shh. don’t apologize. ❞

you pull him down over you by his shoulders, and eddie covers your body with his.

and though you’ve never done this before, your legs instinctually know where they should go — right around eddie’s tight waist, squeezing, never wanting to let him go.

eddie braces himself with a hand beside your head, while the other cups the outside of your thigh, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin.

❝ what you’ve been waiting for, ❞ you sigh, reaching for the zipper at your side.

eddie doesn’t answer, seemingly transfixed by your skirt or whatever’s beneath it.

tugging that zipper down, you let your skirt fall open around you and eddie takes a deep, sudden breath.

you’re encased in a pair of soft lavender satin panties tonight, the whole pair edged with lace with one big white bow at the front.

eddie has stopped moving.

his eyes drag slowly over you, dark and hungry and stunned, like he’s trying to convince himself you aren’t some cruel hallucination. his hand tightens on your thigh. ❝ baby . . . if this is some kinda prank, something your friends put you up to, you need to tell me now. ❞

❝ it’s not. ❞

❝ fuck, ❞ he breathes, barely louder than the hum of the heat finally kicking on. ❝ you’re . . . ❞

he’s seemingly unable to finish his sentence.

his fingers come to brush the lace edge just at the crux of your right thigh, tentative at first — still reverent, like he’s afraid he might ruin these delicate things just by touching. the satin, when he runs his fingers a little higher, is cool beneath his fingertips, smooth, impossibly soft.

❝ jesus christ, ❞ he mutters to himself.

his thumb now traces the line of lace, slow and deliberate, following the curve of your hip up to your waist. you hear him swallow above you.

❝ do you have any idea what you look like right now? ❞

you want to make a joke, you really do, but eddie looking at you like this, touching you like this, like you’re some precious thing, it takes away your ability to do much more than say his name.

❝ eddie? ❞

❝ i know. ❞ his big hand spreads out on your hip. ❝ i know, baby. ❞

you don’t know when you started shaking, but you realize eddie’s trying to soothe your tremors by scooping an arm beneath you, gathering you up against him as he presses a kiss to your neck. ❝ going too fast? ❞

❝ n-no. i mean, i didn’t think so. maybe . . . you show me something now. i can’t be the only one getting naked here. ❞ you knee him in the ribs as gently as you can.

with a grin, eddie pulls back.

when he does, you can see the very obvious tent in his jeans. just like in the locker room. if you were curious then, you’re very curious now.

eddie's grin widens at your words, his eyes darkening with pure lust as he looks down on you. ❝ oh sweetheart, aren’t you playing with fire now . . . ? ❞ he growls playfully, and leans in to nip at your lower lip.

his hands roam your curves possessively, squeezing and caressing every inch of exposed skin. he can feel the heat radiating off of your body and it makes his cock throb with need. ❝ you wanna see what you do to me, baby? how hard you make me? ❞

with a swift movement, eddie stands up and starts unbuckling his belt. his jeans fall to the floor with a soft sound as he kicks them aside. he's left standing there in his shirt and a pair of black briefs, which are straining against his massive erection.

he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear teasingly. ❝ like what you see so far, princess? nothin’ fancy like yours, but i think this works for me . . . ❞

and it definitely does work for him — the midnight black of those briefs against the pale porcelain of his thighs makes you want to attack him.

instead, you pull him down atop you once more, legs around his waist, one hand in his hair and the other snaking between the two of you to palm him through the thin cotton of his underwear. ❝ eds. you're so hard . . . is that all for me? ❞

your hand cupping his aching cock earns you a deep-seated groan, the worn, flimsy fabric of his boxers doing little to hide how hard he is for you. he grinds against your hand, wanting more. ❝ fuck yes, baby girl . . . all for you. every thick inch of me is yours. ❞

he captures your lips in another searing kiss, tongue diving into your mouth to taste and claim every inch. his hips rock against yours steadily now, the heat of your bodies mingling as you rut together.

❝ you feel that? feel how much I want you? how much i’ve been wanting you? ❞ he pants between kisses. ❝ i'm gonna fuck you so good tonight, sweetheart. gonna take my time and make that little pussy mine. ❞

one large hand slides down to grip your ass possessively while the other reaches up to tug at the hem of your shirt. ❝ got somethin’ pretty on up here, too? i wanna see, wanna suck on your nipples until you're begging for my cock . . . ❞

eddie's words make you shy ; you’ve never heard someone talk that dirty before. a soft pink blush starts at your cheeks and drips all the way down to the top of your chest.

you also realize that, if what eddie says is true, he's lain in this very bed before touching himself to the thought of you. ❝ oh god, ❞ you whisper, leaning up to take the bottom of your shirt in hand and yank it off.

laying it aside, you hear eddie exhale sharply. you’re wearing a matching set, so your bra is a nice soft purple too, with satin cups and lacy trim, another big white bow right in the middle of your chest.

eddie's eyes darken with lust, the sight of you in such a dainty set making his cock throb painfully. he licks his lips hungrily. ❝ fuck, you look so good like this . . . like a goddamn princess, i swear. ❞

he leans down to nuzzle at the swell of your breasts, pressing open mouthed kisses along the tops of them before reaching behind to unclasp your bra. his hair tickles you as the lacy garment falls away and eddie groans at the sight of your bare tits.

❝ so fucking perfect . . . ❞ he murmurs reverently before taking one pert nipple into his mouth. he suckles and laps greedily at it while he rolls the other between his fingers.

his hips continue to grind at your center, both of your underwear now soaked with your arousal and some of eddie’s precum. eddie can feel how wet you are even through the fabric. ❝ you're dripping for me already, aren't you, baby? such a needy little thing . . . ❞

you’re squirming, loving all the attention eddie's giving you, all the sweet things he's saying to you. ❝ eddie . . . ❞ you love saying his name, too, loves the way it feels in your mouth, between your teeth.

once eddie sucks that nipple between his lips, you let out an embarrassing moan, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the hard, lean planes of his back. ❝ eddie, eddie . . . want you. want you so bad! ❞

at your desperate plea, eddie groans around your nipple, the sound juddering against your sensitive flesh. he releases it with a wet pop before kissing his way to your other breast to give it the same treatment.

❝ fuck, i want you too, baby . . . want to bury my cock in your tight little pussy and make you scream my name, ❞ he growls, nibbling playfully at your breast.

he sits up suddenly, drawing your legs wider around him as he reaches down to hook his fingers into the waistband of those soft lavender panties. ❝ as much as i love these, ‘m gonna take ‘em off now . . . wanna see all of you. ❞

slowly, like he’s savoring every inch of you being revealed to him, he pulls those panties painstakingly down your legs before tossing them aside. he takes a moment to drink in the sight of you laid out naked beneath him, a feast for his eyes.

you’re embarrassed again, now only because he can see what he’s done to you. your little pussy is a mess, smeared with your own juices.

❝ so fucking gorgeous . . . can't wait to taste every inch of you, ❞ he murmurs, sliding suddenly down between your thighs. ❝ gonna eat this pretty pussy until you're shaking . . . is that okay? ❞

eddie's cheek is pressed to your thigh and your hand is in his hair, petting. more to soothe yourself than him. you nod, less embarrassed now and more nervous. what if eddie doesn't like how you taste? what if he thinks you’re too wet? what if —

eddie’s nuzzling into your thigh, hands sneaking around to cradle your hips. he can feel your nervousness and it makes him want to take extra care of you. ❝ shh, it's okay, baby . . . just relax for me. i’m gonna take such good care of you, i promise. ❞

he places a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh before trailing his lips lower. his breath ghosts over your slick folds and you shiver. ❝ you smell so good, sweetheart . . . can't wait any longer to taste you. ❞

eddie leans in and licks a slow stripe up your slit, groaning at the taste of your arousal. ❝ fuuuck, you taste amazing . . . so sweet. fuckin’ delicious. ❞

he seals his mouth over your pussy and starts lapping at you eagerly, tongue delving between your folds to collect every drop of your essence. eddie focuses on teasing around your clit with the tip of his tongue while sucking gently.

you’re really squirming now, breathing heavily, writhing on eddie’s bed and tightening your thighs around his head. ❝ e-eddie . . . oh god. ❞

❝ that's it, baby, ❞ he mumbles against your slick cunt, ❝ just let go . . . wanna make this pretty pussy cum all over my face. ❞

one particularly insistent swipe of his tongue over your clit makes you thrash, but eddie is holding you down by your hips. ❝ unh . . . eddie. fuck, i'm gonna — ❞

your thighs start to tremble around his head and he doubles his efforts, alternating between flicking his tongue rapidly over your clit and sucking at your entrance.

❝ that's it, baby, cum for me. wanna feel this pussy fuckin’ pulse against my mouth. ❞ he’s growling against you, dark gaze trained up on your heaving chest. ❝ gonna lap up every drop of your cum. ❞

eddie suddenly has two of his thick fingers plunging deep into your tight, hot channel. he pumps them in and out steadily, curling them just so.

as close as you are, you can’t hold back.

those fingers, his tongue, his voice . . . fuck, his voice might be your favorite thing about him. and he certainly knows how to use it in the bedroom.

you scream his name one last time, fingers tight in his hair as you give one last violent spasm atop his comforter and then start to flood his mouth.

he moans as you come undone, your pussy clenching around his fingers, release dripping down his chin. he laps eagerly at you, drinking down every drop just like he said he would.

❝ fuck yes, just like that, princess. cum all over my face. ❞ he keeps his tongue and fingers running in tandem to work you through your high until you come down.

then, gently, he eases those fingers out of you before kissing his way up your body.

eddie takes a moment to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. ❝ you did so good, sweetheart. came so hard for me. ❞

your trembling arms embrace him, and you turn your face to meet him for a tender kiss, still breathing hard as eddie holds you close.

but it isn’t long before he’s reaching down, palming at himself through his briefs. ❝ fuck, that made me even harder. i wanna bury my cock in that tight little pussy and fuck you until the only thing you know how to say is my name. ❞

with the way he's started to suck so gently on your tongue, it's a miracle you can even speak when the two of you part again.

❝ y-you said you'll be gentle, yeah? ❞

❝ yes. ❞ he nods, leaning back to take you in, hands worshipping you on their way back down to your hips. ❝ told you, i’ll take care of you. ❞

almost before you know what’s happening, eddie quickly strips out of the remainder of his clothes, revealing his lean, tattooed body and the thick erection jutting from between his thighs.

your heart starts to race and eddie goes for a condom from the bedside table while you try not to think about why he needs those there, what other girls from town he may have been with.

then you reach to still his hand, shaking your head. ❝ no. please? ❞

eddie’s eyes flicker with surprise. ❝ . . . you sure? i mean, i’m clean, to my knowledge. but i have . . . been with some other girls. ❞

you huff, cheeks going red with embarrassment. ❝ i figured as much. i just . . . don't wanna use one, ❞ you finish lamely.

you know it's stupid, know it's risky. but god, if you don't get to feel him sliding bare into you you’re going to lose your mind.

looking as though he knows it’s a bad idea, but wanting to make you happy anyway, eddie sets the unopened condom back on the table and comes to hover over you again. ❝ okay. anything for my princess. ❞

another soft, doting kiss shared between the two of you has you seeing stars.

just before eddie reaches down to line himself up with your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock through your still-slick folds.

his gaze meets yours and you nod and with a subtle push of his hips, the head of eddie munson’s cock pops right into your tight cunt.

❝ fuck . . . i dunno how long i’m gonna last, baby. you feel . . . nngh, god, fuck! you feel so fucking good. ❞ his fingers are bruising on your hips, though you’re sure he doesn’t mean them to be.

you know how he’s feeling, like it’s too much and not enough all at once.

❝ eddie? do i feel . . . do i feel better than those other girls? the — the ones you’ve been with before? ❞ silly, jealousy at this point, when he’s already inside of you. but you can’t help it, can’t help imagining what girls eddie munson has fucked up until now. probably sammy from your fifth period history class. she’s alternative enough. or — god — heather in band who loves to paint her face like those KISS guys. she’s exactly eddie’s type.

elbows now cushioned on either side of your head, eddie pets your hair back from your sweaty forehead. ❝ what are you thinking about? ❞ he questions softly, a smirk on his face like he knows exactly what's going through your head. ❝ there’s no contest — you’re the best fucking thing i’ve ever felt in my life. including the first time i heard metallica. ❞

your eyes go wide. ❝ wow, that's. you mean that? ❞

eddie nods solemnly. ❝ i do. and if you don't believe me, then maybe i should fuck you until you do. ❞

hips inching forward, eddie slips another inch or two more of his aching cock inside of you.

the noise you make is embarrassing, to say the least. it feels way too good to be filled up with him and there are still a few more inches to go.

he grunts, sinking into your tight heat, face buried in the crook of your neck.

❝ you’re so tight, baby. like a vice around my cock. ❞ slowly, he begins to rock his hips, easing more and more of himself inside of you with each thrust. at the same time, his hands roam protectively over your body as he fills you up completely. ❝ i think . . . you were made for me. no one else could ever feel this good. ❞

❝ i honestly . . . i expected it to hurt. fr — from what i've heard from my friends. but. it just feels good, eddie, so good. ❞ you’re surprised, completely blissed out on his cock as he starts to speed up.

eddie chuckles breathlessly against your neck. ❝ i promised i’d be gentle . . . and i always keep my promises. ❞

it doesn’t even hurt when he starts to fuck you harder, slamming deep inside of you with each snap of his hips. his hands slide down to grip your ass, canting your hips up so he can fuck you that much better. ❝ does it still feel good, baby? d’you like feeling my cock stretch this tight little pussy out? ❞

you nod fervently, sure that your fingernails are doing quite a number on eddie's back by now. ❝ you're so big, eds. i feel s — so full . . . ❞

eddie’s movements stutter and he chokes a little. ❝ mm, baby, i’m sorry — i’m so close already. but i want you to cum again first, wanna make you cream on my dick. ❞ in an effort to make that happen, eddie’s calloused fingers drop between your thighs, rubbing at your clit in tight little circles.

and that just makes you go absolutely ballistic, blindsided by your second orgasm of the night as you shake underneath of him, holding him as close as possible.

eddie practically whimpers as your pussy clamps down around him, inner walls fluttering and squeezing at his pistoning cock. and though he must be teetering on the edge as he does so, he thrusts through your orgasm, drawing it out until you’re a shaking, whimpering mess.

❝ god, you’re perfect. so fucking perfect . . . gonna fill this pussy up now, babe . . . mark you as mine. ❞

a few more hard thrusts and eddie buries himself to the hilt inside of you with a guttural moan. his cock pulses as he spills his hot spunk deep into your aching cunt.

you hold him as he cums, breath coming hot and damp against your shoulder, making the prettiest little noises you’ve ever heard a man make.

eddie collapses on top of you, his softening cock still nestled inside your quivering walls.

he nuzzles into your neck with a contented sigh. ❝ feelin’ okay? ❞

when you nod with a giggle, he rolls you onto your sides so he's no longer crushing you under his weight, his arms wrapped protectively around you. he presses a kiss to your shoulder before letting out a satisfied yawn. ❝ i could stay like this forever . . . just you and me. ❞

and wouldn’t that be nice? just you and eddie here in his room, making out and having sex forever.

but, you remember specifically the conversation that was had in the hallway on tuesday. ❝ i don’t think hellfire would take too kindly to that. ❞

❝ i’m gonna make it up to them next friday with an extra long session. but i did have to give a reasonable explanation for why i missed tonight. fair warning. ❞

you tilt your head. ❝ yeah, that you had to take me on a date. ❞

the look on eddie’s face is mischievous, dark eyes glinting. ❝ yeah, sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but that’s not a suitable explanation for my boys. ❞

frowning, you mutter, ❝ what exactly did you tell them? ❞

❝ the truth. ❞ he apologizes by way of another wet kiss to your shoulder, mouthing at the skin there.

you groan, hiding your face in eddie’s hair. ❝ that’s embarrassing . . . ❞

❝ hey, more for me than for you. i’m the one who comes off as a pervert. ❞

❝ and i’m the one who forced you to ask me out after you were a pervert, oh my god. ❞

eddie shushes you, a hand at the back of your head, cool rings ghosting back and forth over the nape of your neck. ❝ they won’t ever say anything to anyone. and i promise they don’t think less of you because of that. my boys are . . . they’re cool. ❞

nerves calming, you listen to the chilly breeze blow past outside, rattling the trailer windows and sending a draft across the bed. eddie wrestles with the tangled blankets, pulling them higher around you, although it is starting to heat up a little now that the heat has clicked on.

❝ stay? ❞ he mutters against your shoulder.

you tuck yourself in closer against him, skin to skin like eddie is your own personal space heater. ❝ i wasn’t planning on leaving. ❞

❝ good. ❞

[obsessedwithitall]

Good choices were made

[obsessedwithitall]

MY EX FOUND RELIGION

[obsessedwithitall]

I've got my birthday party today, and we've had a snow storm overnight, and I'm terrified to look outside. I've paid so much money for this and I'm so worried it's just going to be me and my parents just sat around and I've been so excited for so long

[alizha]

Neon + velvet

• • ── • • Mafia AU • • ── • • for Levi Week 25 (hosted by @levievent) Day 3

synopsis: Of all Erwin Smith’s lieutenants, you know Levi is the one you should stay away from. But you never do.

featuring: levi ackerman x fem!reader word count: 4.0k contents: N/SFW, 2nd person pov, no use of y/n, mafia au, misogyny, sexual harassment (not from levi), mean/protective/possessive levi, semi-public (car) sex, dubcon (just in case), rough, dirty talk, creampie

a/n: hey everyone! Got a little caught up with the holidays. Be on the lookout for a couple more late entries, but in the meantime, be sure to mind all the content tags for this one :) there’s nothing super crazy but just in case! Hope you enjoy <3

⁀➷ read it on ao3 | levi week 25 masterlist | full masterlist

Thursday nights at the club tended to mean sleazy politicians and mid-tier dealers in expensive suits. It was quieter than the weekends, but the place wasn’t asleep either as you pushed through the side employee entrance. Inside, you were met with the familiar thudding pulse of the bass drowning out the murmur of conversation and confidential deals being made in dark corners. A pair of regulars at the bar raised their hands as soon as they spotted you walking by.

“Evenin’, darling,” one called.

“Evening, boys,” you replied with a quick smile. “Behaving tonight?”

“Never,” said the other with a wink.

You laid a friendly hand on the bar between them. “Try anyway,” you teased before pushing on. It was better not to linger too long with any of the patrons here. You’d learned long ago that everything here could be interpreted as an invitation.

A man in a group of suits at a booth called your name next, waving you over. The table was already overflowing with some of the girls working the floor in sparkly dresses and high heels, but he patted the seat beside him anyway, offering a spot with an eager grin.

“Rain check!” you said, shuffling by. “Work first. You know how it is.”

He groaned in good-natured disappointment, and you slipped away before someone tried to hand you anything powdered. Someone else tried before you could reach the bar—a wiry lawyer you didn’t trust. He flashed a folded bill and a small bag, and you almost laughed. But instead, you flapped your hands.

“No, thanks. Last thing I need is to explain myself to my mother,” you said. That ended the conversation promptly, as it usually did.

You wove through the clusters of people and past the pool tables. A couple you’d cut off from drinking last week had the decency to look embarrassed as you passed. When you got behind the bar at last, your mother was already there, sliding a fresh stack of towels into the workstation. She greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and a once-over.

“Thursday crowds look good,” she said, turning to rinse a shaker. “Try not to cut too many people off tonight.”

“No promises.”

“And Mr. Smith is here tonight. Came in about twenty minutes ago.”

You paused, hand hovering over a bar rag. Your mama’s club might have been a neighborhood institution, but everyone knew whose protection it was under. Erwin Smith didn’t show up for no reason, and he never showed up alone.

“Did Mr. Smith request anything special?” you asked.

“Privacy,” Mama said simply.

Your eyes lifted toward the balcony-level VIP section. You couldn’t see the men occupying the space behind the frosted glass partition, but they were there without a doubt. And usually, where Erwin Smith went, at least one of his lieutenants followed. There was no way to be sure, but considering the electric kettle set out by the service station, you’d bet half your tips for the night that Levi Ackerman was upstairs tonight. And if he was, you weren’t sure whether you hoped he stayed put this time or came down looking for you.

For the first hour of your shift, you mixed drinks, sliced garnishes, juggled conversations with regulars, and kept tabs on the room. Every good bartender learned to read people; it was part of the job, and this part came to you naturally. By half past nine, the floor girls cycled through for their usual check-ins. Some asked for water while others dropped by for a quick gossip break.

“Babe,” crooned Maria, a tall redhead with long legs, “you didn’t answer my text today. Were you asleep or ignoring me again?”

“I was working my other job,” you said, sliding her a glass of soda water. “I wouldn’t ignore you.”

“Liar,” she said sweetly, leaning against the bar. “Anyway, table eight is full of tech guys. Big spenders, but they’re terrible tippers. Don’t waste your time.”

“Noted.”

“And table three,” she added, dropping her voice to a whisper. “The new one with the gold watch? He’s already asked about you.”

You grimaced. “Let him know I’m not available.”

“Already did,” Maria said with a smirk before grabbing the soda water and disappearing back into the crowd.

The floor girls liked to treat you like a little sister, probably because you were one of the only constants here in a world of temporary faces and temporary jobs. You looked out for them, and they returned the favor in their own ways, offering tips about clients, warnings about incoming trouble, whispered gossip about territory politics.

It was all useful. You gathered your own information, of course; few people noticed bartenders, and even fewer remembered what they said to one. But the club’s clientele gave all sorts of things away to the pretty faces that kept them company in the booths. And anything significant would almost certainly go into one of the short memos you wrote and left for Mr. Smith’s courier.

You didn’t serve the mob directly, and you didn’t want to. But you did understand the value of being useful. Your mother always liked to say that a little information was worth more than a lot of loyalty.

After pouring a few more rounds of shots, you were just finished garnishing a gin rickey when you noticed a familiar, subtle cue: Gabe, the bouncer stationed near the VIP stairs, caught your eye and tapped twice against his earpiece. The Smith party was expecting refills.

Mama usually handled Mr. Smith’s private tables, but when she was busy, you were trusted to be the designated second. Pressing your lips together, you went about collecting the tray. Bourbon, sparkling water, a whiskey neat, a bottle of sake, crystal tumblers, and a fresh cup of steaming black tea. Before you could step around the bar, a hand adorned with a gold watch clamped around your wrist.

“Hey,” a voice slurred.

You startled without meaning to. Up close, the man’s watch looked even more expensive, with heavy gold links and a flashy diamond bezel. His smile was lazy and predatory.

“I just wanted a minute of your time, sweetheart,” he said, not letting go of your wrist.

“I’m working,” you said.

“So, take a break. Come sit with me for one drink.” His grip tightened. “Don’t be difficult. You hostess girls don’t have to play hard to get.”

“I’m not a hostess,” you gritted out, attempting to twist free. The tray wobbled in your hand.

The man grinned wider. “Don’t be a bitch. I’m trying to be nice. You think you’re too good for me?”

You yanked again. His grip didn’t budge. “Let go. Now,” you said, voice flat.

He leaned in, sour whiskey breath thick. “Don’t get smart, doll. You ain’t gonna like it.” His thumb ground against the bones of your wrist.

You could see the bouncers at their posts, laughing with some regulars, oblivious. The floor girls were busy, and your mother was in the back storeroom. It figured. You learned early around here: you were on your own. Normally, you wouldn’t want to yell or cause a scene when Mr. Smith was present. But you were seconds away from dropping the tray anyway and taking the heel of your hand to the man’s nose when a cold voice cut through the noise.

“Oi.” Levi stood beside the bar, his eyes glittering silver in the low light. “You got a death wish?”

He didn’t have to raise his voice for the man’s body to go rigid, all the slick arrogance draining out through the soles of his shoes. You twisted your wrist again, taking advantage of the distraction. The man’s grip loosened just enough for you to slip free, your fingers tingling from the pressure. You stepped back, frowning.

“J-just having a friendly chat,” the man said, trying to muster a laugh. “No harm in that, right?”

Levi took a step forward. “The fuck was your hand doing on her?”

The patron’s smile cracked, sweat pricking at his temple. “Just talking, is all. I didn’t mean nothing by it,” he stammered, hands rising in surrender, palms damp.

Levi glanced at your wrist, at the red imprint blooming on your skin. Disgust flickered across his face. “You do something like that in here again, and you’ll be drinking dinner through a tube. Understand?”

The man looked around, desperate for support, but the regulars at the bar suddenly found their drinks fascinating. Even the floor girls steered clear; nobody wanted to be caught in Levi’s crosshairs when he was angry.

“I-I get it,” the patron said, shrinking away.

Levi’s eyes followed the man until he vanished into the crowd. Only then did he shift his attention. “You alright?” he asked. Though, as usual, it sounded less like concern and more like an assessment of damage to something that, for whatever reason, he considered within his domain.

He was dressed impeccably, as always, in a monochromatic three-piece suit. Pinstriped slacks, perfectly pressed to crease in the front. A peek of gray from the lapels and lining of his jacket. The waistcoat hugging his form exactly right to suggest a lean but well-muscled torso. You tried not to picture how he looked underneath.

“I was handling it,” you said, lifting your chin.

“I noticed,” he said, adjusting the silver cravat pin below his neck. “You didn’t have a hand free to break his nose.”

You exhaled sharply, setting down the tray on the bar to rearrange the jostled components. Levi’s tea had spilled somewhat into the saucer. “You don’t have to come down here for drinks. I was just about to bring these up.”

“Wasn’t coming down for the drinks,” he said, leaning his hip against the bar.

“Then, you must’ve missed me,” you muttered, nudging the tea upright and blotting the rim with a bar napkin.

Levi looked at your wrist again. “Ice it behind the bar,” he said. “Don’t let Gabe see. He’ll get loud, and I’m not dealing with that shit tonight.” It was a warning; Smith’s nights were always supposed to run smooth, no ugly ripples for the wrong eyes to notice.

You flexed your hand; the ache wasn’t so bad, really. “I’ll live,” you said.

He gave you an unimpressed frown as you finished blotting the saucer. You checked the tray's balance and nodded to him curtly as you turned back toward the stairs. Without looking, you could feel Levi’s presence shadowing you up to the VIP balcony.

Once you arrived, Erwin Smith greeted you with his usual affability. The men around him barely looked up, too deep in their own discussion. You set the bourbon down first—Erwin’s—then, the other drinks one by one. Levi didn’t join the table, lingering instead by the door with his arms crossed. As you poured, you could feel his gaze like pinpricks on the back of your legs, as if he somehow knew he’d be spreading them later.

You finished as swiftly as you could, gave Mr. Smith a respectful dip of your head, and excused yourself.

The rest of your shift blurred by. It was sometime after midnight when the club began to thin out. Maria blew you a kiss before leaving with a high-roller, and Kira hugged you and whispered, “Don’t forget to text when you’re home.” Mama retreated to the office with the receipts, trusting you to finish closing the bar.

When you finally locked the liquor cabinets and pulled on your coat, your limbs felt heavy and warm. You grabbed your bag and headed out toward the staff exit, feeling a bit too wired to relax just yet. As the cold air of the alley rushed over you, you glimpsed the black sedan idling at the curb, the passenger-side window rolled down just far enough to reveal a familiar pair of gray eyes.

“Get in,” Levi said.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Car’s warm,” he said, glancing past you. “And he’s still hanging around.”

You didn’t need to ask who he was. The gold-watch man’s face flashed in your mind, all hungry grin and sticky entitlement. You exhaled through your nose. “Levi, I’m fine. You know I walk home every night.”

“Not tonight, you don’t.”

“You can’t just—”

“I can,” he said. “Get in.”

You crossed your arms. If you got in, you both knew the script. The last time you’d ended a night in Levi’s car, you hadn’t made it home until sunrise, and not because of the drive. “I’m not one of your guys,” you said. “You don’t get to order me around.”

“You’re the madam’s daughter,” Levi said. “And you’re on Erwin’s radar. That makes you our problem.”

“So, Mr. Smith sent you to babysit me,” you said, bristling.

Levi let out a very soft, very put-upon sigh. “Look. Get in the car. I’m tired. You’re tired. And if that asshole sees you leave, I’ll have to drag him out into the street by his teeth.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself. Fuck it. “Fine.”

You stepped off the curb and opened the passenger door. Warm air rolled out, hitting you like a blanket. You slid into the seat and pulled the door shut, the thud sounding more final than you would have liked.

He shifted the car into drive. “Seatbelt.”

“My God,” you muttered, clicking it into place, “you’re bossy.”

Levi didn’t answer, just flicked on the blinker and nosed the sedan out into the street.

“Eyes on me,” he said, keeping his fingers clamped over your mouth. “That’s it.”

Levi had you folded in half in the backseat, legs splayed over the leather interior. His gloved palm pressed hot and hard across your lips, and the other hand gripped your thigh just above the knee, holding you open. The car’s cabin reeked of sweat and tea, the air thick with the ghost of his cologne. Outside, your apartment’s security lights flickered across the asphalt, throwing quick blue-white flashes over the windows.

You both could have probably gone up to your place. Your roommates were likely asleep anyway, but Levi never asked. After parking in the secluded section of the lot and killing the headlights, he’d simply slid his hand down the back of your neck, fitting his grip tight and possessive, and steered you into the backseat before you even thought to protest. He was the only man you’d ever let treat you like property.

Levi laved at your neck, tongue roving as he fucked you with a ruthless, controlled rhythm. You tasted leather and the cool bite of his rings beneath his glove where his fingers pressed. Above you, he kept his eyes locked on yours, even as your own threatened to roll back with every hard, relentless movement. You wanted to snarl or snap at him, but all you could do was stare up at him. Your fingers curled in the upholstery. Levi only pressed down harder, thumb stroking your cheek, daring you to look away.

“Focus,” he ordered, his voice low and dangerous.

He was all sharp-edged steel when commanding, even with you, but you hadn’t been scared of him for ages. Not since you started to notice all the hostesses at your mama’s club seemed to drop their guards and smile without flirtation when they spoke to him. Levi Ackerman, whose name made street dealers blanch, always stepped aside to let the girls pass in the cramped back halls. Word traveled fast about the last man who tried roughing up one of the madam’s girls while Levi was on the floor. You’d heard three versions of that story; all of them ended with the man crawling out the back door.

So, the fact that he had no qualms fucking the madam’s daughter, of all people, had come at a bit of a surprise. But once he’d realized just how much you wanted it, needed him to pin you down and fuck your brains out, all bets had been off. He never asked questions about why you liked it rough, or why you always started out defiant and ended up pliant. He just read you, the way you read the room at the club.

Levi shifted his hand from your mouth, only to grip your jaw and force you to keep looking at him. The windows fogged, and the car rocked with the movements, springs groaning in the dark. Your thighs shook around his hips as he plunged his thick cock into you relentlessly, his thumb tracing the corner of your mouth and smearing saliva.

When your head lolled, breath stuttering, he slowed down just enough to make you crazy. “Eyes,” he growled again. You bit down on your lip, managed to glare. “Good girl.”

While he had summarily stripped you down to just your community college shirt at the beginning, which was presently shoved up to expose your tits and peaked nipples, Levi hadn’t so much as shed his gloves or polished black wingtips. His jacket was slung over the driver’s seat, and his belt and slacks were undone just enough to let out his hard cock, but that was about it. The buttons of his double-breasted waistcoat gleamed as he rutted into you, filling you with all of him again and again. His hand at your jaw squeezed until you let your mouth go slack, and he slid a gloved index finger past your lips. You sucked it in on reflex, and he pressed down further toward the back of your tongue.

“That’s it,” he said. “You want to bite me, sweetheart, you better suck first.”

The seatbelt buckle jabbed at your hip, but you could only focus on the ruthless rhythm, the dirty little grind of his hips at the end of each deep thrust, and the ache of your jaw from how hard he held you open. You closed your teeth around the leather, feeling the faint give, and heard Levi make a low, pleased sound in his throat.

“Keep it there,” he muttered.

You obeyed. You always did, in the end. You were always good for him, even when he buried his face in your pussy in one of the private booths at the club or fucked you hard and frantic from behind in one of the empty backrooms. You’d asked him once what he would do if Mr. Smith or your mother found out you were fooling around together. He’d just fixed you with that flat look and said, “Nothing.” Then, he’d pulled you over the upstairs office desk and fucked you hard enough to make you see stars.

The whimper you let out around the leather in your mouth was instantly muffled by his gloved finger. Every inch of you felt stretched thin around his girth. Levi’s other hand, the one branding deep bruises into your thigh, slid up and pressed against your inner pelvis, pinning you to the seat. In reply, you locked one leg at his hip, pulling him deeper, and clenched deliberately around his length.

“Fuck—keep squeezing me like that,” he groaned, drawing his finger from your mouth to clasp your hands above your head.

The hand between your thighs brushed against your clit slow, and you jolted, hips bucking despite yourself. Levi drank in every twitch, taking the opportunity to look, to really watch the way his length disappeared inside you. The long, deep strokes had you tipping your head back, jaw slack in absolute pleasure.

“Harder,” you gasped.

Obligingly, he slammed into you even harder, the car’s suspension shuddering. The rough leather seat burned against your shoulders and ass, almost as captivating as the obscene, perfect friction of Levi’s cock spearing into you. Softer leather scraped against your clit as he mashed his fingers against the swollen bud, smearing his gloves in your slick. Your nails scraped uselessly at the glass, palm leaving a sweaty print as Levi pistoned into you, each hard thrust threatening to slam your head into the car door.

“C’mon,” he muttered, leaning over you. “Let go for me. I know you want it.”

He drew back, only to impale you with one brutal stroke that had stars bursting behind your eyes. You arched with a moan, pussy clenching him so hard you heard him choke out a curse. Desperately, you rocked up to meet his thrusts, a frantic whispered string of please, please, please tumbling from your lips before you came abruptly around his cock. Your hips continued to stir of their own accord, knees curling in as you shuddered and shook with a strangled sob. Levi released your hands and took hold of your jaw amidst your throes, forcing you to look at him and slowing his thrusts again.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he breathed raggedly, pulling his hand away from your center and wiping the wet, glossy leather against your thigh.

Levi held you open as the ripples of your release worked through your body and your hips began to slow. You could feel his cock leaking against your cervix. A shiver went through you when he dipped his head to lick the sweat off your sternum. Then, he lifted himself upright, hiked your knees up as close as they would go to your shoulders, and sank into you again.

You tried not to squirm, but the way he was picking up his pace, purposefully splitting you open with increasing speed and letting you feel every inch as if he weren’t painfully hard and fighting against the urge to finish, rubbed your sensitive nerves raw. You clenched around the ceaseless, overstimulating intrusion, holding back a scream.

“Good,” he bit out. “Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. Just like that.”

The car creaked in protest as he fucked into you. Your overstimulated body jolted with every punishing drive of his hips. Levi was gritting his teeth, eyes narrowed, his hair falling out of its crisp part. You whimpered softly, chest heaving, your trembling hands moving to clutch at his shoulders, then his biceps through the crisp black fabric of his shirt. The heat at your core bloomed with every deep shove of his hard length.

“You want me to cum?” he rasped, the lewd sound of wet skin slapping growing uneven.

“Inside, Levi,” you mumbled feverishly, eyes glassy and half-mast. “Nowhere else.”

You wanted nothing more than for him to pump you full of himself, to paint your walls with his release, marking you in a way no other client your mama’s club ever could. You knew Levi liked that. He liked to leave his mark, to know that you’d climb up those stairs to your apartment dripping with him. That you’d walk back to the bar tomorrow with that soreness between your legs and think of him with every step. He liked to fuck you to the brim until you were stuffed and overflowing with his seed, and he especially liked when you begged for it.

“Yeah. Just like that,” Levi panted. His brow was furrowed, jaw set, the tendons in his neck taut.

“Levi,” you pleaded again, desperately clawing at him.

He finally let go with a guttural curse. His eyes screwed shut as heat spilled inside you in thick pulses, his balls emptying into you as your cunt milked him for every last drop. For a moment, he remained there, holding you open and buried to the hilt, savoring the soft, involuntary twitches of your body spasming around him. Then, he sucked in a breath and slowly pulled his cock from you. You let out a soft moan at the slide, a shiver of delight running through you at the sight of Levi watching the creamy white bleeding from your glistening, messy pussy.

You jolted slightly as he scooped it up with two fingers before it could drip onto the seat and pushed it back inside, plugging his cum within the warmth of your cunt. The seams of his glove grazed against your sensitive walls, and you tightened your grip around his arms, but you didn’t stop him.

“Keep that all inside for me,” Levi murmured, tenderly caressing your stomach, the curve of your waist.

When he withdrew his fingers, black leather coated with cum, you opened your mouth automatically. Satisfied, he pushed the soaked digits past your lips. You didn’t look away from him as you took him in, tongue moving to lick him clean. The taste was bitter and salt, the tang of his sweat and the mixture of your fluids on the leather. You sucked obediently and swallowed what he gave you. Levi withdrew with a slow drag, thumb lingering to smear a last gleam of white at the corner of your mouth. You licked that away, too, never looking away from him.

“That’s my girl,” he said, easing his hand away and giving your nipple a final, teasing pinch. “Now, get dressed. And next time some asshole tries anything with you, you break his wrist or I’ll fuck you full in the club lot where everyone can see.”

<3

[obsessedwithitall]

Erm...yes. correct.

[elegantpaperoperatormaker]

WAIT-!!!

on the subject of Eddie & prone bone with the thighs squeezed...

tangential but not connected necessarily: thigh job. He loves a thigh job. 🫡

Omg he loves a thigh job. He's the one who brought it up initially, after you caught him staring at your thighs.

The way they look bigger when you sit... it activates something in him—he just wants to bite your soft skin. But then a much more depraved need takes over, and he realizes he has to fuck them.

So you lay beneath him, slathered in lube as he hugs your knees, your calves hanging over his shoulder. You giggle, watching his eyes roll on every slick thrust.

It's such an easy glide, he's fighting not to lose himself, but he can't stop. His hips snap forward, and he hugs you tighter, jerking at the squeeze.

Precum beads at his swollen tip, smearing against your supple flesh, and dropping onto your stomach as he stills, trembling.

"Oh, f-fuck— Fuck, fuck, fuck, sweetheart, I'm—"

You feel his cock flex, pulse as ropes of cum shoot out, splattering against your breasts. He babbles mindlessly, rutting with little effort as he tries to prolong the pleasure.

"So pretty, Eds," you mutter, swiping a thumb over his abused tip, gleefully watching the immediate response: a final, weak stream rushing from his slit.

He slips away, falling backward on the bed, practically fleeing from your gentle touch. "O-Oh, God. Jesus Christ...we are so doing that again."

[obsessedwithitall]

Yep very good job

[dearlizzies]

looking at myself in the mirror after reading smut

[obsessedwithitall]

So yesterday my work friend asked me why my ex was being so nice to me so it's not just me!!! I just kept saying no no no