Discover Top Posts Tagged with #chase+me

Oct 22, 2025

Chase Me

Pairing: Eddie Munson X (f) Reader

CW: /primal play/primal kink/chasing/established relationship/fingering/oral (female receiving)/pinv/unprotected sex/finishing inside/aftercare/multiple orgasms/boundaries set/praise kink/

Summary: Eddie finds out you like being chased; so he makes it his mission to give you the real deal.

WC: 8.3k

A/N: OMG I’m positing!! I know it’s not finding yourself again but this was practically done and I have been craaaaving sharing this.

You’re barely two steps inside the door before you hear it- the unmistakable thud of Eddie’s boots as he kicks them off, the grumble of his jacket being thrown onto the recliner, the soft clink of his keys tossed somewhere on the coffee table.

He’s already flopping onto the couch- dramatic as hell, as always- grabbing the thick throw blanket off the back and holding it open like a trap.

“Get over here,” he says playfully but his voice low. “C’mere. Now.”

You just raise your brows at him, shrugging out of your jacket slowly.

Pretending to consider it. Pretending to be good.

Eddie narrows his eyes, smirking.

“Don’t make me come get you, sweetheart.”

You grin mischievously and take one slow, deliberate step back toward the hallway instead.

Eddie groans, “You little shit.”

“Three… two…”

You bolt.

A burst of laughter escapes you as you dart away, your socked feet sliding across the floor just as Eddie shouts:

“One—!”

You hear the couch creak behind you, hear the thump of his feet hitting the floor- and then Eddie’s chasing you down the hall, swearing under his breath.

You squeal, rounding the corner into your room too fast, almost slipping- heart pounding, stomach flipping with adrenaline and giddy panic. You don’t even make it five steps in before strong arms wrap around your waist, yanking you right off the ground.

“Nooo—!” you shriek, kicking your legs uselessly as Eddie laughs- that deep, wrecked belly laugh that you feel all the way in your chest.

“That’s what you get!” he crows, spinning you once before hauling you back toward the couch like you weigh nothing.

You land in a tangled heap on the cushions breathless, but still laughing- Eddie’s weight half pinning you down as he throws the blanket over both of you triumphantly.

“You,” he says, still out of breath, “are such a brat.”

You huff against his chest, batting his hair out of your face.

“You’re the one who threatened to come get me,” you shoot back, grinning.

Eddie smirks, but his eyes darken, and look wicked as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“And you,” he murmurs, hand sliding down your back, “ran like you wanted me to.”

You freeze. Because he’s not wrong.

You feel your face heat up, and your stomach flips as Eddie shifts, draping the blanket better around you both.

You tilt your head up slightly, nose brushing his hoodie, voice barely above a whisper, “…Is it bad that being chased kinda turned me on?”

It’s like Eddie’s whole body groans, and he tips his head back against the cushion like he’s in pain.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart,” he mutters, clutching your hips tighter. “You can’t say shit like that when you’re sittin’ on my fuckin’ lap.”

You giggle a little breathless now, and wiggle slightly just to tease him more.

Eddie growls low, a warning sound that makes your toes curl, and leans in close, mouth brushing the shell of your ear.

“Keep it up,” he whispers, voice dark and rough. “See what happens.”

You shiver. Press closer.

But you’re both still too giddy, too tangled up in laughter and adrenaline and the buzz of each other’s presence- to do anything but melt deeper into the couch together.

His hands roam absentmindedly- slow and soothing over your hips, your thighs- as he presses lazy kisses into your hairline, your temple, the curve of your jaw.

Neither of you says anything for a long moment.

Then Eddie murmurs, his voice soft, almost shy. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me.”

Your heart skips. But you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips, and snuggle closer, tucking your face against his chest.

“Maybe a little idea,” you whisper.

He huffs out a laugh- the kind that rumbles deep in his chest- and tilts his head, brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

“Yeah,” he says, “You’re trouble.”

You just grin. And you don’t even try to deny it.

The second you nod all breathless and desperate- Eddie moves.

Not fast. Not greedy.

But careful.

He shifts you fully onto his lap, settling you sideways over one of his thighs first- the thick, denim covered muscle pressing right against your soaked panties.

You squirm as heat blooms between your legs, and Eddie groans low under his breath, like he’s barely holding himself together.

His hands are steady- almost too steady- while your whole body shudders.

The TV flickers low across the room- some random channel neither of you is watching- but it’s just loud enough to cover the sharp little gasps slipping out of you.

Eddie kisses you once slowly and deep, before slipping one hand between your thighs.

Your breath catches hard- hips jerking up instinctively- and he shushes you with a soft, broken laugh against your mouth.

“Easy, baby,” he murmurs, teasing his fingers up the inside of your thigh. “Gotta be good for me.”

You nod frantically, teeth sinking into your lower lip, as he slides his hand higher. He finds the damp edge of your panties, humming low in approval, and tugs them gently aside.

You squirm, desperate, but he only grazes you with the tips of his fingers. Barely there.

Just enough to make you ache.

“Been thinkin’ about this all day,” he whispers, dragging his fingers through your slick folds, teasing slow circles around your clit but never right on it.

You whimper quietly and broken- he bites back a groan at how wrecked you already are for him.

“So fuckin’ soft,” he rasps, thumb brushing lightly, barely a feather touch. “All this for me, huh?”

You nod again, trembling, nails digging into the sleeves of his hoodie, mouth falling open around a silent gasp.

Eddie finally- finally- slides one thick finger inside you, slow and careful, while his other hand grips your hip, keeping you steady on his lap.

Your whole body arches as your hips grind helplessly against his palm and he catches your mouth with his, swallowing the sounds you can’t hold back.

“That’s it,” he breathes against your lips. “Good girl.”

You moan softly but wrecked and Eddie’s eyes flutter shut for a second, like the sound physically hurts him.

“You like that, don’t you?” he whispers, slipping another finger in beside the first- stretching you wider, slow and aching. “Like bein’ my good girl.”

You nod frantically, grinding down on his hand, thighs already trembling.

He smiles against your cheek, and curls his fingers just right, hitting that spot that makes your hips buck.

You sob against him, biting down hard on his hoodie and Eddie growls under his breath.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he pants. “So fuckin’ good for me.”

Your hips move faster now- desperately and frantic- chasing the high building low in your belly.

Eddie matches your rhythm perfectly, fingers stroking that perfect spot inside you, the pad of his thumb brushing messy, maddening circles over your clit.

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he murmurs, voice thick and reverent. “Gonna let go all over my hand?”

You nod frantically, whole body locking up- the pleasure so sharp, so overwhelming, it blurs everything else out.

“That’s it, baby,” Eddie whispers, curling his fingers just right. “C’mon, honey. Wanna feel you.”

You clamp down around him with a strangled sob, your hips jerking helplessly as the orgasm tears through you.

It’s everything. Sharp and soft.

Hot and shattering.

You muffle your cries against his shoulder, shaking apart in his lap all while Eddie holds you through it, murmuring quiet, broken praises against your temple.

“That’s my girl,” he breathes. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

When you finally collapse against him, boneless and trembling, he pulls his fingers from you carefully. Eddie lifts his hand to his mouth slowly, but deliberately and sucks your slick off of his fingers.

Groaning low in his throat, like he can’t fucking believe how good you taste.

You watch wide-eyed and wrecked as he continues to lick his fingers clean.

When he’s done, he leans in, kisses the corner of your mouth sweetly and wraps both arms around you again, holding you tight against his chest.

You lay there still calming down while breathing in the mix of cologne, sweat, him.

The world feels far away.

“You’re trouble,” Eddie whispers against your hair, voice still wrecked with awe.

And you just smile sleepily, satisfied and so deeply, completely his, as he tucks the blanket tighter around you both and presses another kiss to your temple.

—————————

The second Eddie steps into the trailer later that night, he knows he’s done for.

He kicks the door shut with the heel of his boot, dumps his keys somewhere by instinct, and just stands there in the dark for a second, his heart is still thudding, mind still racing.

He can’t stop replaying it.

The way you ran from him, laughing and gasping, that sweet, teasing look over your shoulder- the way you sat on his lap on your couch later, all flushed and breathless and a little wild in a way he hadn’t seen before.

And when you’d blurted out like you were embarrassed, but also proud, that being chased turned you on?

Yeah.

Yeah, Eddie hasn’t been the same since.

He palms the front of his jeans absently, already half hard just thinking about it again, and groans under his breath.

He’s a goner.

A full, complete, no hope goner.

But, in the back of his mind- a little voice nudges him: Don’t fuck this up.

You trusted him with that confession. You let him see that side of you.

And the last thing he wants is to bulldoze into something he doesn’t fully understand- not with you. Not when you mean so fucking much to him.

So he shakes off the urge to just immediately yank his dick out like a caveman, grabs a bottle of water from the fridge like it’ll help (it won’t), and flops onto the couch with a determined grunt.

Laptop open. Internet loading.

Mission: Learn what the fuck he’s doing before he wrecks something perfect.

He types it in awkwardly at first.

Half embarrassed, half fucking fascinated.

“Chase kink?”

“Primal play?”

“Hunter/prey dynamic in sex?”

The articles pop up fast. Reddit Forums. Blogs. Maybe a few porn sites he will need to bookmark for later..

And holy fucking shit.

Eddie drags his hand down his face, eyes widening as he reads.

It’s everything he felt today but couldn’t name.

The adrenaline.

The loss of control.

The instinct to hunt, to catch, to claim.

The way your whole body had responded, flushed and lit up and buzzing- even from something as simple as him counting down from three before chasing you.

And according to half the shit he’s reading?

That’s normal.

It’s a thing.

A thing that apparently gets very intense very fast if you’re not careful.

He shifts on the couch- painfully aware now of the growing strain in his jeans- but keeps reading.

Keeps imagining it.

You in the woods, glancing over your shoulder with that same wicked smile.

You running through the forest, all giggles and daring glances, daring him to catch you. Or maybe more out of fear when it’s the real deal.

You squealing when he finally grabs you, all wriggly and breathless and so fucking desperate under his hands.

Letting him devour you like you deserve, like it was what you were made for. Sinking into you as his prize for catching you.

Eddie groans and slouches further down the couch, palming himself through his jeans without even meaning to.

Goddamn.

He reads about boundaries, about making sure you both know when to stop, about hand signals and words and aftercare.

Gotta make it good, he thinks, biting his lip hard enough to sting.

Safe for her. Perfect for her.

Because you deserve that. Because you’re worth learning for.

Because you’re his.

And if he gets to chase you through the woods and fuck you senseless against a tree somewhere in the process?

Yeah.

He’s not exactly gonna complain.

God, he really hopes you let him fuck you against a tree.

He reaches for his phone and types out a quick text he’ll send tomorrow, “Free Sunday? Got an idea.” and then tosses it aside with a groan.

Because right now? Right now he’s wrecked.

Right now he’s as hard as a fucking rock just from reading about it, imagining it, imagining you.

Eddie pops the button on his jeans with a low curse, like it’s your fault, like it’s anyone’s fault but his own fevered brain- and yanks them down his thighs impatiently.

“Fuck,” he mutters, head tipping back against the couch cushions, palm wrapping around himself- already leaking, already throbbing.

He fists himself hard and fast, no teasing tonight- no games.

Just raw, desperate need.

He pictures you.

Your cheeks flushed red, your gasp, your eyes going wide when he finally catches you. Your legs locked around his waist, your voice breaking on his name, your body surrendering under his.

He’s panting now, hips snapping into his hand, chasing that finish the way he’ll chase you Sunday.

It doesn’t take long.

He cums with a low, broken groan- his hips jerking, hand squeezing hard- your name slipping between his teeth like a prayer.

When he finally sags back against the couch, boneless and panting, he covers his face with one arm and laughs weakly into the crook of his elbow.

“Yeah,” he mutters, still breathless, still wrecked. “I’m so fucking screwed.”

—————————

Eddie barely slept.

He kept tossing and turning, his brain full of you, the woods, the chase- every wild, desperate image from last night’s research flashing like a slideshow behind his eyes.

Now he’s standing in the kitchen, nursing a coffee, staring down at his phone like it’s a live grenade.

He looks at the draft he wrote up lastnight.

Deletes it.

Types.

Deletes.

Types again.

Pauses.

Because it has to sound casual, right?

Cool. Chill. Not like he spent half the night jacking off to the idea of you running from him and letting him catch you.

(Even though he 1000% did.)

Finally- finally- he hits send:

Eddie [9:42 AM]:

sunday

got an idea

you free?

The second it sends, he immediately regrets everything.

Runs a hand through his hair, paces the kitchen, muttering to himself like a lunatic.

“Cool,” he grumbles. “Real smooth, Munson. Real fuckin’ eloquent.”

He checks his phone again even though it’s only been like ten seconds.

No reply. He starts overthinking it immediately.

What if she thinks it’s weird? What if she thinks I’m weird? What if she doesn’t wanna do it? What if I just scare the shit outta her?

Eddie sighs and flops face down onto the kitchen table dramatically, forehead thunking against the wood.

He’s still sprawled there, groaning into the surface like a man possessed, when his phone buzzes.

His head snaps up so fast he almost knocks over his coffee.

You [9:45 AM]:

hmmm… depends

what kind of idea? ;)

Eddie nearly chokes on his own breath.

He scrambles upright, thumbs flying over the screen, trying to figure out how the hell to answer without sounding like a complete pervert.

He goes for honest.

Mostly.

Eddie [9:46 AM]:

something fun

something that might intrigue you

…or maybe make you run

idk

you up for it?

He barely has time to panic about that text before your reply comes in:

You [9:47 AM]:

well I am definitely intrigued, so I’m in

Eddie slaps a hand over his mouth to smother the ridiculous giddy sound that slips out.

Because fuck yes.

You’re in.

And he’s gonna make it so good for you.

He grins into his coffee mug, his heart hammering, mind already racing with plans- and starts counting down the days.

Two days, he thinks. Two days, sweetheart. And then you’re mine.

——————————

The engine hums low beneath you, the heater blasting just enough to keep the November chill at bay. Eddie’s drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, sneaking glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

You’re fiddling with the strap of your bag in your lap- looking cute as always, innocent, completely unaware he’s been planning a full blown feral manhunt for you.

He clears his throat- trying to act casual.. acting like this is no big deal to him.

“So, uh…”

His fingers tap a little faster.

“You still good for Sunday?”

You look over, smiling. “Yeah, of course. Was there something you wanted to do in particular that involves running?”

Eddie almost lets out a wild, almost evil laugh-

Was there something I wanted to do?

Only spend the entire day chasing you through the woods like a starved animal.

He shrugs, “I was thinkin’,” he says, real cool-like, “we could, y’know, do somethin’ a little different. Get outside. Little fresh air.”

He grins sideways at you.

“Maybe… go to that spot Steve always talks about.. the one with the trails? Nobody’s ever really there this time of year.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You wanna go hiking?”

Eddie chokes a little- because, technically, that’s not a lie.

There will be a lot of moving involved. Just maybe not “hiking” in the traditional sense.

“Kinda,” he hedges. “Y’know, a little walking, a little running…”

His grin turns wicked.

“Maybe some chasing.”

Your breath catches just for a second- and Eddie sees it.

The way your fingers tighten on the strap of your bag. The way your thighs shift slightly, like your body remembers exactly how that conversation ended last time.

You narrow your eyes at him playfully, but dangerous.

“Chasing, huh?” you murmur.

Eddie just shrugs, trying to play it off, but his cheeks are starting to flush, and he knows you can tell.

“Could be fun,” he says, real casual. “Could get your heart rate up. Good cardio.”

You snort under your breath. “Right. ‘Cardio.’ Is that what we’re calling it?”

He shoots you a sideways look- cocky, but a little breathless.

“I mean… if you’re too scared..” he teases, voice dropping low.

You turn in your seat to face him fully- challenge sparking in your eyes- and Eddie feels his cock twitch in his jeans immediately.

“Scared?” you echo, mock offended. “Please. You’re the one who’s gonna be begging.”

Eddie’s heart stutters.

Oh fuck.

He leans in a little, close enough that his curls brush your shoulder and his voice rough with want.

“Sweetheart,” he rasps, “you start runnin’ - you better be ready for what happens when I catch you.”

The car goes very quiet. The only sound is the faint hum of the heater and your soft, uneven breathing.

You swallow once, twice- visibly trying to keep your composure.

Then you smirk, and unbuckle your seatbelt with a click.

“Sunday,” you murmur, grabbing your bag and cracking open the passenger door.

Eddie watches you hop out, watches the way you saunter toward your house, and barely restrains himself from bolting after you right then and there.

Instead, he leans back against the seat, exhaling shakily, running both hands through his hair.

“Dead man walkin’,” he mutters.

Then he grins- feral, starved- and whispers to himself:

“Bring it on, sweetheart.”

——————————

Eddie’s a goddamn menace today.

At least, that’s what Wayne mutters under his breath when Eddie bolts through the kitchen for the third time, tripping over his own boots.

“You runnin’ from the law or somethin’, boy?”

Eddie just grins manically, breathless- arms full of… laundry? Towels? A hoodie he’s not sure he even needs?

“Nah,” he says, tossing a wink over his shoulder. “I’ll be doing the chasing. But something better.”

Wayne grunts like he doesn’t want to know.

Eddie nearly slams into his closed bedroom door, heart pounding.

Because today’s the day.

Today’s the day he gets to see you running and laughing in those worn jeans, boots kicking up dead leaves, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes flashing with that look you only give him.

Today’s the day he catches you.

Claims you.

And Jesus H. Christ, he’s already so fucking hard he can barely think.

Eddie drops everything onto his bed in a heap:

– two clean towels (Wayne’s gonna kill him for stealing them)

– a thick hoodie (for you, he figures you might get cold after)

– a water bottle (he’s not a complete animal)

– and his freshly washed flannel blanket

He paces his room, shoving his hands through his curls, biting the inside of his cheek.

Chill the fuck out, Munson. It’s just a day in the woods.

Just you and her.

Alone.

With no witnesses.

He groans quietly, tipping his head back to stare at the cracked ceiling.

It’s freezing out. He knows it is.

November’s bite is sharp as hell, the woods are gonna be all bare branches and crunchy leaves and breath-clouds in the air.

But the thought of you all flushed and breathless and cornered- makes him feel like it’s the middle of July under his skin.

He tries, really tries- to pack like a normal human.

Zip the hoodie into his backpack.Roll up the towels.

Make sure everything’s ready.

But every time he bends over, every time he thinks about pulling you down into the leaves and making you scream his name into the cold air- his cock twitches painfully in his jeans.

He mutters a curse and adjusts himself, trying not to dwell on it.

You’ll get her later, he promises himself.

You’ll have her begging later.

He grabs his leather jacket, slings the backpack over one shoulder, and slams out of the bedroom before he can jack off in the bathroom like a desperate idiot. (Again.)

Wayne’s still at the kitchen table, coffee in one hand, newspaper in the other.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Wayne mutters, eyeing the whirlwind that is Eddie storming through the kitchen.

Eddie just smirks, grabbing his van keys from the hook.

“No promises,” he says, tossing Wayne a wink.

He slams the door behind him and bolts down the steps like a man possessed.

——————————

The van rattles down the cracked back roads like it’s trying to vibrate Eddie’s bones out of his skin.

It’s not even his fault this time.

He’s not blasting Iron Maiden like a maniac because he wants to- he’s doing it because he needs to.

Needs the drumbeat hammering into his ribs.

Needs the guitar screaming louder than his own thoughts.

Because otherwise?

Otherwise he’s gonna turn this van around, drag you back to his bed, and spend the next six hours proving that he can catch you and fuck you senseless without ever leaving his damn room.

(Which- okay- doesn’t sound like a bad plan either.)

But you wanted this. He wants this.

And Eddie Munson is not the type to back down from a challenge.

Especially not when it’s you standing in the woods breathless and teasing and just out of reach- waiting for him to chase you down and ruin you.

He grips the wheel tighter, jaw clenching. He’s been half hard since he woke up.

Hell, if he’s being honest- he’s been half hard since the night he found out you liked being chased.

Found out how wet you got just thinking about it.

He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Jesus Christ.

His other hand drums frantic, restless beats on the wheel, fingers tapping out a rhythm that doesn’t match the song.

He can picture it too vividly:

– you sprinting through the trees, hair streaming out behind you,

– the breathless little giggle you’ll try to hide,

– the split second your eyes flash back over your shoulder,

– the moment he catches you, pins you, and you melt against him like you’ve been waiting for it all along.

He groans again- actually groans out loud- and slams his palm once against the wheel.

“Get a fuckin’ grip, Munson,” he mutters.

But it’s useless.

He’s already twitching in his jeans, already picturing your mouth, still wondering if you’ll let him fuck you against a tree.

(God, please let him.)

He pulls up at the curb outside your place way too fast, tires crunching over gravel, and immediately kills the engine.

The van rattles into silence.

His heart doesn’t. It’s pounding in his throat.

He taps the keys nervously against his knee, glancing up toward your porch, the front door.

Breath fogs the windshield. It’s fucking cold.

But Eddie doesn’t even feel it- he’s burning from the inside out.

He leans back in his seat, closing his eyes for a second, breathing deep through his nose. It’s just a little chase, he tells himself.

It’s just a little game..

And then he grins- wide and feral and aching- because they both know it’s never just a game with you.

It never fuckin’ was.

He shoves the keys in his pocket, shrugs into his jacket, and hops out- his boots crunching on gravel.

Waiting outside the van like a man about to commit a fucking felony.

Waiting for you.

You crack the door open, and your stomach flips so hard it knocks the breath out of you.

Eddie’s standing there, his boots planted, jacket hanging open over his hoodie, hair a mess from the wind- and he looks…

Wrecked.

Already.

Dark eyes heavy, jaw tight, chest rising and falling like he’s been pacing the driveway.

The second he sees you bundled in your jacket, cheeks flushed from the cold, something shifts behind his eyes.

The kind of look that sends a lightning bolt straight through your spine. You grip the door tighter without meaning to.

“Hi,” you breathe out.

Eddie just stares for a second, blinking like he needs to reset his brain.

Then he huffs a low laugh- one that scrapes at the edges like it’s barely holding something bigger back- and shoves one hand through his hair.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice is low and hoarse. “You ready?”

You nod, maybe a little too fast- you can feel your heart hammering.

And it’s like he notices, because his lips twitch into a slow, crooked almost smirk that could kill a weaker person.

He steps closer.

Which causes you to step back instinctively- just a little and his grin spreads.

Predatory. Pleased.

Fuck.

You’re not sure if you’re ever making it to the woods.

He tilts his head, studying you like you’re something he’s already about to unspool.

“You nervous?” he asks, his voice drops low.

You try for a nonchalant shrug. But you fail miserably.

Eddie’s grin turns wolfish. “Good.” And he says it like a promise.

Then he jerks his chin toward the driveway. “C’mon. Van’s warm.”

Eddie’s hand finds the small of your back the second you’re close enough. Just a brush- just fingertips over fabric- but it makes you shiver harder than the cold.

You shoot him a look over your shoulder like a playful warning, and he winks.

Cocky bastard.

Still, he’s a little too quiet as you walk to the van.

A little too intense, vibrating just under his skin.

The second he opens your door and you climb inside, he rounds the front of the van- sliding into the driver’s seat, tossing one last look at your house- and you catch it:

The way he grips the wheel like he’s holding himself back.

The way his knuckles creak when he flexes them.

The way he steals glances at you out of the corner of his eye, like he’s counting down to something he knows he can’t delay forever.

You clear your throat, tugging your jacket tighter.

“So…” you say, voice too bright. “Where exactly are we going?”

Eddie smirks without looking at you.

“There’s a little spot,” he says. “Couple minutes outside town. Nobody goes there this time of year.”

A pause.

And then he adds, deceptively casual:

“Plenty of trees.”

You swallow thickly.

Eddie’s smirk deepens.

The tension thrums in the van like a taut wire about to snap.

And it only gets worse when he reaches over- fiddling with the radio? and some Zeppelin riff growls to life low over the speakers.

“Real subtle,” you murmur.

Eddie shrugs one shoulder. “What?” he says, grinning. “Gotta set the mood.”

You shake your head, laughing under your breath, but your pulse skips.

Because the mood?

The mood is already set.

It’s buzzing under your skin. It’s slamming in Eddie’s veins.

And the second the trees start crowding thick around the road- the second he kills the engine and turns to look at you full on- you realize…

You’re already playing the game.

And Eddie?

Eddie’s already hunting you.

You barely step two feet out of the van before you feel it.

That weight.

That thick, charged air- like the trees themselves are leaning in, like the whole world is holding its breath.

Eddie slams the van door with a low thud behind you- and you turn, heart already hammering, pulse already rabbit fast in your neck.

He’s just standing there- shadowed by the trees, boots scuffing the dirt, leather jacket slung over his shoulder now.

Only a hoodie underneath.

One that looks dangerously good stretched across his chest.

You suck in a shaky, sharp breath, and Eddie’s mouth curves.

Not smiling.

Smirking. Predator.

He steps closer, boots crunching low against the ground until he’s barely a foot away.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he says, voice low and gravel rough. “Couple rules first.”

You swallow hard, and barely nod.

“Number one…” His hand lifts- knuckles grazing your jaw so lightly. “If you wanna stop- you say so. Loud and clear. Right away- at anytime.”

You nod again, your pulse increasing by the second.

Eddie’s thumb brushes your bottom lip slowly.

“Number two…” He tilts his head toward you- his eyes are filled with something dark now. “You run. As fast as you can. No holding back.”

Your knees wobble- you can feel his breath on your mouth when he says it.

“And number three…” His hand start to drift- lazily, like he’s taunting you- down your throat, over your jacket zipper, the heavy press of his palm low against your ribs. “If I catch you?”

He leans in, and you can feel the scrape of his stubble at your ear.

“I get to do whatever I want.”

Your entire body shudders even before he finishes that sentence.

He pulls back a bit- just enough to get a good look at ya- and still with that wicked grin spreading across his face..

“You good with that, pretty girl?”

You’re not sure you even have a brain anymore, but you nod.

Nod, and whisper, “Yes.”

Eddie’s eyes glint.

“Good.”

He backs up a step- letting the space grow wide between you.

The forest stretches dark and tangled behind him. You’re already panting like you ran a mile.

He lifts a hand, and holds up three fingers.

“Gonna give you a head start, sweetheart,” he says, voice low and lazy and mocking. “You better fuckin’ use it.”

Your heart slams against your ribs.

“You ready?” he asks- voice low and taunting.

You swallow. Nod.

He lifts three fingers.

Your whole body tenses.

He drops one.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

He drops another.

You turn- fast, boots skidding- and sprint.

The last finger falls.

Behind you, somewhere, a low, dark laugh echoes through the trees.

You run harder.

You tear down the dirt path, lungs burning, the cold air cutting at your cheeks. Branches whip against your jacket, snagging at your sleeves, but you don’t dare slow down.

You don’t dare look back.

You know he’s back there.

Somewhere.

Watching.

Waiting.

You hear a branch snap to your right, and your pulse spikes.

You glance back just for a second and trip over a root.

Stumble.

Catch yourself. Keep running.

Another crunch of boots against earth.

Closer now.

You veer off the trail and deeper into the trees- heart hammering so loud you’re half blind with it.

The ground gets rougher, steeper- and you almost slip on a patch of damp leaves.

But you don’t stop.

You can’t.

You’re gasping when you hear it:

A low growl.

Behind you.

So close it lifts the hairs on the back of your neck.

You push harder, your thighs burning, lungs raw- boots slipping against the uneven ground.

You hear another step- closer.

Another.

Then- silence.

You dare a glance over your shoulder.

Nothing.

Just trees. Just breathless air.

Just—

A shadow darts between the trunks.

Fast.

Silent.

Like an animal.

You choke on a gasp and run faster- heart slamming, jacket flapping behind you.

Your boot snags on another root causing you to stumble down, cursing- and when you right yourself, you hear it:

A low, amused grunt.

You don’t know how far he is. You don’t know where he is.

But you know he’s getting closer.

Your legs are burning, your chest heaving- and still, you push.

Deeper.

Further.

Twisting through trees, over fallen branches, slipping on damp leaves.

You skid around a wide oak and almost crash into it- and for one terrifying second, you swear you feel fingers graze the back of your jacket.

You shriek out a breathless, broken sound and push harder.

Another laugh- low and dark- ghosts over the air.

“You can’t run forever, sweetheart,” Eddie calls, hisvoice rough and ragged, closer than you thought he was.

Your heart jumps.

You scramble through a thicket, tearing through underbrush.

You hear him clear as day now, his boots pounding against the dirt- hunting you.

You can barely breathe.

You don’t know how he’s not winded- how he sounds almost gleeful- but you don’t have time to think.

You sprint around another tree.

And then you feel it.

A hand.

Snapping around your waist.

Hauling you back into a solid, burning hot chest.

You shriek- but he just laughs low against your ear.

“Told you I’d catch you,” he growls- voice ragged, shaking with adrenaline.

You’re gasping and panting- squirming in his arms.

But Eddie just squeezes you tighter.

One hand locking across your stomach, the other dragging up your ribs, until you go boneless against him.

His breath is hot at your ear.

“You run so fuckin’ pretty, honey,” he murmurs, voice dark and sinful. “All flushed and panting for me.”

You whimper helplessly and feel his grin against your skin.

“Maybe I should let you go,” he muses, mockingly thoughtful. “Chase you again.”

You whimper harder, your thighs clenching.

“Yeah,” he breathes, dragging his nose up the side of your neck. “That’s what I thought.”

And then, without warning- he lifts you.

Hands under your thighs- dragging you up his body, slinging you over his shoulder- carrying you deeper into the woods like you weigh nothing.

His fingers dig into your thighs.

You squirm and gasp- but he doesn’t slow.

Doesn’t stop.

Just carries you.

Like you’re his prize.

His reward.

Like you belong to him.

You barely have time to think before your back hits a tree- rough bark biting through your jacket- and Eddie’s mouth crashes into yours.

Hard and messy and starving.

You moan into him- one hand clutching the back of his hoodie- and he groans against your mouth, grinding his hips into you, seeking friction like he can’t fucking breathe without it.

“Mine now,” he growls, voice almost feral. “All mine.”

And then without warning- he sinks to his knees in the dirt.

Spreading you open.

Mouthing at the inside of your thighs.

“You ran real good for me, sweetheart,” he mutters against your jeans. “Now I’m gonna make you feel real good too.”

Before you can even catch your breath, he’s yanking your jeans down, rough but careful- letting them bunch around your ankles, boots still planted firmly on the ground.

You gasp as the cold air kisses your exposed thighs- the heat of your skin practically steaming in the chill- but Eddie’s hands are running down your legs.

You try to adjust, but he shoves his firm hands against your thighs gently pressing you back against the tree.

“Stay still, sweetheart,” he pants. “Let me have you.”

You brace yourself against the tree- one hand buried in Eddie’s curls, the other fisting desperately at the bark.

You barely have time to whimper before you feel his hot breath ghosting over your exposed cunt.

He groans low the second he sees you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Look at you. Drippin’ down your fuckin’ thighs.”

You whimper, arching instinctively.

“Ran through the fuckin’ woods for me,” he growls, hands squeezing your hips tight. “Gotta reward you, right?”

And then his mouth is on you.

You cry out -loudly, barelymuffling it with your hand.

Eddie moans into your pussy, tongue dragging through your folds, greedy and messy and worshipful all at once.

He eats you like a man starving- like he doesn’t care about anything except making you come apart on his tongue.

“Goddamn, honey,” he rasps between licks, voice wrecked. “Taste so sweet like this. All worked up. All mine.”

You writhe against him, your hips canting wildly- grinding down against his mouth.

He lets you.

Lets you rut against his face, lets you use him, lets you lose yourself on his tongue like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered.

His tongue flicks quick, filthy patterns over your clit- relentless and devastating- while his hands knead the front of your thighs, keeping you open for him.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he groans. “Let me taste how bad you needed it.”

You shatter fast and hard, the orgasm ripping through you like a live wire.

You sob into your palm, thighs trembling, hips jerking helplessly against his mouth.

Eddie growls when he feels you cum- drinking you down, licking you through every frantic aftershock until you’re whimpering and twitching from overstimulation.

Finally, he pulls back- panting, chin slick with you- and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking completely wrecked.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “Could live between your legs forever.”

You barely have a second to breathe before he’s on his feet again- grabbing your hips, spinning you so you’re braced against the tree.

You whimper at the loss of contact, at the feeling of the rough bark against your palms, but you’re too far gone to care.

You need him.

You need him now.

You hear the frantic clink of his belt, the rasp of his zipper, and then the heavy weight of his cock sliding against your soaked folds.

“Shit,” Eddie groans, pressing the head against your entrance. “You’re so fuckin’ ready for me.”

You nod frantically- breathless, desperate- pushing your hips back to meet him.

And then- slowly and brutal, he thrusts in.

You both cry out- Eddie biting down hard on a groan, you gasping open mouthed against the tree.

He bottoms out in one steady push- filling you to the brim, stretching you perfectly- and doesn’t move for a second, just breathes raggedly against your spine.

“Jesus fuck, honey,” he pants. “You’re squeezin’ me so goddamn tight.”

You whimper helplessly, your whole body shivering.

Eddie pulls back slowly, and slams back in.

You sob against the tree- the sound punched out of you- and Eddie groans low and wrecked.

He sets a brutal pace- deep, powerful thrusts that have your boots slipping slightly in the dirt- your hands scrambling for purchase on the rough bark.

Your jeans are still tangled around your ankles, your panties shoved aside, your whole body jerking forward with every ruthless snap of his hips.

“Fuck,” he pants. “Look at you. Takin’ it so good. So fuckin’ good.”

You can’t answer- can barely even breathe- just whimper and push back against him, desperate for more.

“You gonna cum again for me?” he rasps against your ear. “Gonna soak my cock like you did my fuckin’ mouth?”

You nod frantically with tears in your eyes- the pressure building sharp and hot and unbearable.

“You’re close,” he growls. “I can feel it.”

His hand snakes around your front, fingers finding your clit- rubbing tight, filthy circles that have you crying out.

You try to stay quiet.

You really do.

But it’s impossible.

Not when he’s pounding into you like he owns you.

Not when his hand is wrecking you from the front.

Not when you’re teetering right on the edge of oblivion.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he groans. “Cum for me. Let me feel you fuckin’ milk me.”

You break with a sob- your whole body locking up, and you cum again, harder this time, clenching around his cock so tight Eddie curses like he’s in pain.

You feel it happen, feel the gush of wetness- feel the way he gasps and stutters and loses it inside you.

“Fuck- fuck, that’s it,” he groans against your spine, hips staggering for a second from the sheer force of it.

You expect him to finish right then- but somehow, he doesn’t.

Eddie grits his teeth, jaw locked tight- and holds on.

Barely.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “Tryin’ to milk me dry, aren’t you?”

You whimper, overstimulated, every nerve burning- but Eddie just growls low in his throat and keeps fucking you.

Deep, grinding thrusts that have you sobbing into your hands, legs trembling, the boots on your feet barely keeping you standing.

“You’re not done,” he pants, wrecked and feral and desperate. “Not yet.”

He reaches around again, rubbing your clit with rough, messy circles- and you cry out, hips jolting away instinctively.

He doesn’t let you run.

He chases every tiny shiver, every flutter of your walls, every broken sound from your mouth.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he groans. “Gimme another one. Wanna feel you lose it on my cock again.”

You whimper high and broken- because it’s too much, you’re too sensitive, but it’s Eddie.

It’s him.

And he’s wrecking you in the best possible way.

You squeeze around him again- fluttering, helpless- and Eddie lets out a guttural noise from deep in his chest.

His thrusts get faster and rougher- slamming up into you, making filthy sounds echo through the trees.

“You were made for this,” he growls. “Made for me.”

You can feel him start to lose rhythm- feel the snap of his hips turn messier, harder- feel the way his hand tightens on your waist like he’s anchoring himself to you.

“You want it?” he gasps, desperate now. “Want me to fuckin’ fill you up, sweetheart?”

You sob out a whimper and nod frantically- barely able to form words.

“Tell me,” he rasps, voice a ragged edge. “Tell me, sweets.”

“Y-Yeah,” you whimper, barely coherent. “Please, Eddie—”

He groans out, low and broken- and finally lets go.

A few more brutal, deep thrusts- the tip of him dragging against your sweet spot- and then he’s cumming hard inside you.

You feel it- the heat of it flooding you as he buries himself as deep as he can go, grinding his hips into yours with a wrecked, helpless noise.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he gasps, voice wrecked, forehead pressed to your shoulder as he rides it out.

You’re both shaking and panting, completely ruined against the tree.

Eddie’s still buried inside you, still pulsing faintly, when he finally regains enough strength to straighten a little. His hands slide tenderly down your hips, squeezing once- grounding you- before he eases out of you slowly.

You whimper at the loss- at the messy, sticky feeling of him leaking out of you- but Eddie’s already tugging your jeans carefully back up your legs.

His hands linger- warm and steady- as he adjusts you, fingers brushing reverently along your thighs.

Then- with a grunt of effort- he scoops you up into his arms, bridal style.

You make a soft, breathless sound against his chest, your arms looping around his neck instinctively.

“Got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice rough and thick with leftover adrenaline. His nose brushes your temple. “Always got you.”

You melt against him, head into his chest- boneless and wrecked- and Eddie presses his mouth to your hair, murmuring ragged praises into the tangled strands.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he breathes. “Ran so fuckin’ pretty. Took it all like my perfect girl.”

You just hum weakly against his chest, too wrecked to even respond.

He carries you back toward the van, your boots bouncing lightly with each step, the chill of the evening air brushing against your flushed skin- but you barely feel it.

Not with how tightly Eddie holds you. Not with the way he presses a kiss into your hair, like he needs the contact just as much as you do.

By the time he reaches the van, he eases you down onto the floor inside with infinite care, hands never leaving your body for more than a second.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he whispers, brushing your hair back gently. “Gotta get you cleaned up a little first.”

He crouches down in front of you, grabbing one of the towels he packed/ the edges still a little warm from being tucked in the backseat.

Carefully, he peels your jeans down again just enough to clean you up.

Your body shivers slightly from the loss of warmth, but Eddie’s already there- pressing a firm, steadying palm to your thigh as he wipes you down with slow, deliberate strokes.

The towel moves tenderly over your sensitive skin, cleaning the slick mess between your legs, careful and thorough.

“Just like that,” he murmurs under his breath, almost to himself. “You’re okay, honey. You’re perfect.”

Once you’re cleaned up, Eddie helps pull your jeans back up again and grabs the soft flannel blanket from the front seat and wraps it snugly around you, bundling you up like you’re something sacred.

“Not lettin’ you freeze your ass off after that,” he mutters, smiling crookedly as he presses another kiss to your knee.

Then he lifts you again- strong arms locking under your knees and shoulders- and you cling to him, heart fluttering.

He settles you into the passenger seat, tucking the blanket around you one last time before slamming the door and jogging around to the driver’s side.

When he gets in, he glances over at you- bundled up and blinking sleepily at him- and he feels like his chest might just cave in from how full it is.

“You good, y/n?” he rasps, throat raw.

You hum, drowsy but smiling. “Better than good.”

The van rumbles to life, heater blasting as Eddie drives the winding roads home, sneaking little glances at you every few minutes like he still can’t believe you’re real.

When he pulls up to the trailer, Wayne’s truck is long gone- and Eddie wastes no time getting you inside, still carrying you all the way up the steps.

He doesn’t set you down until you’re in the bathroom- shower already running hot, steam curling around both of you. “Easy, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, voice rough but gentle. “Let me take care of you.”

And when he peels the blanket and the rest of your clothes away, it’s with a tenderness so deep it makes your heart ache.

Without a second thought, Eddie strips too- tugging his shirt over his head, shoving his boxers and jeans down in one motion, until he’s just as bare as you.

You catch a glimpse of him in the mirror- flushed from the heat, hair curling wild around his face, eyes drinking you in like he still can’t believe you’re real.

You expect him to crowd you immediately, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he just grabs your hand and tugs you gently under the water.

You gasp when the hot water hits you, but Eddie’s already pulling you against his chest, letting the heat soak into both of you.

His arms loop around your waist, his forehead pressing to yours.

For a long moment, you just stand there together- wrapped up in the pounding water, the scent of his soap and the warmth of his skin.

Then Eddie leans back a little, smiling softly. “Turn around for me, sweets.”

You do, and he immediately reaches for the shampoo, lathering it between his palms before sinking his fingers into your hair.

You let out a soft, content sound- almost a whimper- and he chuckles fondly under his breath.

“Feels good, huh?” he teases, voice still a little raspy.

You nod wordlessly, eyes fluttering closed as he massages your scalp with slow, careful hands.

He rinses your hair gently, tipping your chin up to keep the soap from getting in your eyes, his thumbs brushing feather light against your cheeks.

Every touch is so soft it makes your chest ache.

When he’s done, he presses a kiss to the crown of your head- lingering, like he can’t help himself.

He grabs the body wash next, working the soap into a thick lather in his hands before gliding them down your arms, your back, your hips.

Nothing rushed.

Nothing greedy.

Just soft, reverent motions- like you’re something fragile and precious he’s been trusted to care for.

By the time he’s done, you’re boneless against him, blinking up at him with dazed, sleepy eyes.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs, grabbing a clean towel and wrapping it around you tight. “Bedtime.”

He dries you off with gentle strokes, and tugs one of his clean shirts over your head.

You’re tired.

Too warm.

Too full of him.

Eddie pulls on a clean pair of boxers, still damp and flushed, raking a hand through his wet hair before scooping you right back into his arms.

You giggle weakly into his shoulder, and he grins, carrying you through the darkened trailer like you weigh nothing.

He sets you down in his bed and climbs in after you, pulling the covers up high around both of you.

You curl into his side instantly, your leg slinging over his hips, your hand fisting in the soft fabric of his shirt.

Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead, his hand stroking slow, lazy lines down your spine.

“You okay?” he murmurs against your skin.

You nod into his chest, feeling your whole body go limp with safety, with warmth.

“Perfect,” you whisper.

He smiles into your hair- one of those rare, private smiles that’s just for you- and murmurs something you can’t quite catch before you both finally, finally let yourselves drift into sleep.

Ty @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🖤

Tagging some besties I think might enjoy this.. @the-unforgivenn @the-witty-pen-name @mediocredreams @mugloversonly @28bohemianmoons @justalotoffanfiction @streamafterlaughter @kellsck @mrsjellymunson @punkrockmlchael @notsoscenebean 🖤

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