brainwashedkitten

[brainwashedkitten]

it's rainy outside and i'm just thinking about what a rainy day with eddie would be like.

you two have the day off and you're a bit frustrated because you wanted to get stuff done but the rain is keeping you from being outside. eddie uses it as an excuse to keep you held up in bed, cuddling and kissing and joking around, until both your stomachs are rumbling with hunger. he makes you brunch, maybe some eggs and toast. you lay on the couch, wrapped up in the fluffiest blanket as the news drones on about the thunderstorms you are going to get. he brings you some coffee or tea and you two eat silently watching the rain come down in buckets. after you clean up breakfast, he pulls you onto the couch to watch some new junk horror flick that was just put out. he decides the most comfy position is his head in your lap and your fingers lacing through his curls. during the movie, you get bored and start braiding small pieces without his knowledge. when the movie ends and he goes to the bathroom, he comes back and jokingly confronts you about the small braids. he tackles you to the couch and pins and you smothers you with kisses.

when dinner time comes around, you order pizza, forcing some sorry son of a bitch to come deliver in the storm. you two eat from the box and then curl up on the couch some more, listening to the thunder rumble your small home together. when the lights flicker, and eventually go out, you two pull out the hoard of candles you have collected over the years. the house smells like a mixture of vanilla, christmas pine, and musk only after a couple minutes. you two just snuggle up , using the candlelight to look at each other and admiring the highlights of each other's features. his nose. the curvature of his lips. his jawline that you pepper with small kisses.

eventually the flames illuminate your naked bodies, all wrapped up in each other as he thrusts into you slowly, mapping out your curves with his slender fingers. the couch is squeaking with every jolt forward and you cannot help but moan his name. he is so focused on you, your reactions.

"so beautiful, baby," he hums, his hand wrapping around the nape of your neck. he captures your lips in a slow moving kiss that makes your brain fuzzy.

the candlelight is eventually disrupted by flashes of lightning right outside your window, which distracts eddie so much that he stills inside you. when you try to pull him back to attention, he just lazily smiles, looking out the window. the moment the thunder claps, disturbing the intimate scene unfolding, you squeak in shock.

"i hope it rains like this for the next year," his eyes trace back to you, that infamous smirk across his lips, "want every day to be like this."

[brainwashedkitten]

18+ MDNI!

bestfriend!eddie fucks you

it’s hot and tight where eddie’s thick length stretches you open, your slickness coating him more and more with every careful stroke he makes.

his hand is spread wide on your inner thigh, cold metal rings mark your skin as he keeps your leg pushed back enough to let more of himself sink in. you swear can you feel him growing bigger inside of you- pulsating and hard, his tip is a cherry red as it fucks itself further into your warmth, making himself right at home.

“you’re- so fuckin’ soaked, baby.” his voice is strained and his face holds a grimace that tells you he's doing his absolute best to hold it together and not totally blow his load- it'd been hardly a few minutes of kissing you and he's ready to go. so lovesick it's pathetic.

seating himself as deep as he can, he finally halts any movement until he's sat cozy and snug inside of you, right where he belongs. "feel so full, eds. your dick's so big- fucking me so good, baby." your leg twitches where you wrap around his waist, locking him into place. you're no less lovesick or pathetic, either.

"i've barely got to fuckin' you yet, sweetheart," he purrs, cupping your face with his free hand.

"so- good." you babble on while he lowers himself to leave kisses on your neck, stroking your cheek with his thumb, it somewhat helps to ground you to earth.

it's when you start to let out more of those sweet sounds that he starts to lose some of that self-control; you tug at the hair on the back of his neck while his sucks a mark onto your skin causing you to whine out "eddie, please!" you feel him twitch inside of you, and he lets out a noise that sounds like a growl, when he happily relents and begins to pound into you. "shit. think i can fuck some more pretty moans out of you, baby? get you all loud and riled up for me, hmm? let me make you my pretty girl and cover you in my cum. that okay?"

"yes, eds. want it all from you, need it all," you croak out, "always wanna be your pretty girl."

and it doesn't take long for you to unravel one another; between his feral thrusting and dirty words- your moans spurring him on and tits bouncing right beneath him. he makes sure you come first, and after your intense release, feeling heavy and hazy- eddie gets his wish and paints your pretty body with his cum.

"my sweet girl," he pants out, kissing your shoulders and chest while you lie in your blissful haze, safe in his strong hold and warm embrace. "thank you, thank you, thank you. my perfect girl. always my pretty girl, no matter what, sweetheart."

[brainwashedkitten]

Lovers Lake

This is part 3 of a miniseries! You can find part one here

Summary: You and Eddie have a two-person party at Lover's Lake and get to know eachother better.

Eddie helped you climb onto the roof of the van and all but threw the six-pack up to you before pulling himself up after you while you shrieked with laughter.

“You gonna tell me what happened to your car yet?” he asked, cracking the top off one of the bottles with his teeth. 

“Jesus, Eddie. You’re gonna break your teeth doing that!” You exclaimed, grabbing the second bottle from him before he could do it again. 

“How else are we gonna open them?” He defended.

“You’re wearing rings!” You laughed, holding your hand out with an expectant look. 

Unsure what you wanted, he gave you his hand with a furrowed brow. 

You plucked one of his rings off and slipped it over your middle finger.

Eddie watched in awe as you slipped the cap between your finger and the ring and popped it off. 

“See?” You pressed the ring back into his palm and smiled. “Can’t believe you’ve still got all your teeth.” 

You took a sip and grimaced. 

“This is terrible.” 

He laughed, and you were starting to think that it was becoming your favourite sound in the world. 

The two of you laid on your backs, side by side with a good couple of feet between you on the roof of his van for hours, talking about any and everything.

You were down to the last two beers and were having the time of your lives. 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you keep dodging the car question.” He leaned back and propped himself up on one elbow. 

“It’s embarrassing!” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. 

“Now you have to tell me!” He nudged your leg with his boot. “C’mon, Sweetheart, you just watched me geek out for hours. Level the playing field.” 

“Okay, fine,” you sighed, peeking through your fingers. “You can’t laugh, though.” 

“If you have to ask me not to laugh, I’m definitely gonna laugh.” Eddie chuckled. 

“You’re already laughing and I haven’t started yet!” You huffed, but there was no bite to it. 

“I pinky swear that I will try very hard not to laugh.” He held out his pinky to you. 

You sighed dramatically and hooked your pinky in his, trying to ignore the way your skin tingled where it made contact. 

“It’s at the bottom of the lake.” You mumbled, glancing over at the water. 

“Huh?” He frowned. 

“My car,” You cleared your throat, “It’s in the lake.” 

“This lake?” He pointed, and you could see that he was trying so hard not to laugh. 

“So when you say it was removed from your possession…” 

“I left it in Neutral and it rolled into the water.” You nodded solemnly with burning cheeks. 

His cheeks twitched, and he made a choking sound. 

“Can I please laugh?” He managed to get out, sounding like he was being strangled. 

“You have one minute.” You conceded. 

And he used it. 

Eddie laughed so hard that you couldn’t help but laugh too. 

“Am I allowed to ask follow-up questions?” He was still laughing. 

“You can have two.” You chuckled. 

“Okay.” He took a deep breath, and it came out shaky. “When did this happen?” 

“Last week.”

“And what did your parents say when you came home without it?”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, like you didn’t know how to answer his question, and his brows pulled together. 

“My dad hasn’t noticed yet.” Is what you settled for. 

“Think he’s gonna be pissed when he does?” He watched you carefully, full of questions, but acutely aware he’d struck some kind of chord by bringing up your family. 

You just shrugged and took a big sip of your drink. 

“So,” You changed the subject. “You take all the girls out here and woo them with warm beer?” 

“All the girls?” He scoffed, “Sweetheart, you’re the only girl who’s ever been within a hundred yards of this hunk of rust.” He patted the roof of the van affectionately, trying not to let it show on his face just how embarrassed he was to admit it. 

“Really?” Your brows shot up in surprise. 

You looked genuinely shocked, and he couldn’t understand why. 

“I’m on my third attempt at senior year.” He reminded you flatly, “I’m a freak, and a massive dork. So, no. There’s never been a lineup of girls fawning over me.” 

“You’re not a freak,” you told him like you truly believed it. “A dork, sure. But, I think that any girl who says you aren’t attractive is a fucking liar” 

He just blinked at you for a few seconds before clearing his throat. 

“What about you?” He asked, looking out at the water, “I’m sure you’ve got a long list of suitors begging for your attention.” 

“I wouldn’t know.” You shrugged. “I told you, I’ve had my eye on one guy all year. I don’t pay attention to anyone else.” 

His eyes snapped over to meet your gaze, searching for an ounce of a lie, and found nothing.  

“I would never bring anyone else up here.” He blurted, “Never even thought about it until tonight.” 

“Careful, Munson.” You cracked a playful smile. “Keep talking like that and I’ll start thinking I’m special.” 

“You are.” He said immediately, despite his burning cheeks “You’re kind of really fucking cool, you know.” 

You weren’t sure how much longer you could go without throwing yourself at him if he kept talking like that. It had been a bit of a relief to hear that he had about as much relationship experience as you did. All this time, you’d thought that he was some sex god who’d been with women so beautiful that you’d never compare. 

You weren’t really sure how to make a move, or how to signal that you wanted him to. You thought you’d made your flirting obvious enough, but were pretty sure that he wasn’t fully absorbing just how badly you wanted him. 

An idea popped into your head, and you quickly downed what was left of your beer. 

“Wanna play spin the bottle?” You proposed, waving the empty bottle in his face, laughing when he swatted it away with a bewildered look. 

“What?” he breathed, “but there are only two of us?” 

“Yep.” 

“Stop fucking around.” 

“I’m not fucking around, you dork.” You laughed, tugging his hand. “I mean it.” 

“Really?” his eyes widened slightly, and he scrambled to crawl towards you despite the disbelief in his tone. “You wanna kiss me?” 

“Very much.” A little smirk settled on your face. “Desperately, really. It’s pitiful.” 

“You could never be pitiful.” His hand reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear, then cradled your chin, tilting your head back slightly. 

“Seriously?” He felt the need to ask one more time. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, Munson,” you chuckled, leaning in a little further. 

And he did. 

It was a little clumsy at first. The pace was wrong, and neither of you seemed to really know what you were doing, but after a few seconds of fumbling, your lips slotted together and started to move in sync. 

Hesitant hands wound themselves into hair and rested on hips until the two of you were clinging to one another, desperate to get as close as possible. It was a little awkward trying to make out while sitting on the roof, so you laid back and pulled him down with you. 

Eddie groaned into your mouth pathetically, unable to believe what was happening. At no point had he thought that his night would go like this. He hoped that you’d maybe let him kiss you when he dropped you off at home, but here you were, kissing him so hard it was making his head spin. 

You were rolling around so much that at one point, you almost pitched right over the edge. 

He kept an arm wrapped around your waist and held you tightly, shuffling over to the middle of the roof while the two of you caught your breath, clearly a little startled by the almost-tumble into the dirt. 

“Shit.” he panted, resting his chin on the top of your head as he clutched you tightly to his chest. “That was…” 

“Really fucking good.” you finished for him with a breathy laugh. 

“God, I can’t believe that just happened.” He muttered softly, as if he meant to think it instead of saying it out loud. “Holy shit.” 

“You’re a really good kisser.” He said louder after a moment, “Like, criminally good.” 

“Am I?” You sounded surprised.

“Uh, yeah!” He looked down at you like you were crazy. “Nobody’s ever told you that before?”

“Oh,” you grimaced, hiding your very pink face in his chest, “I’ve never actually-”

“Hold on,” He stopped you, eyes wide with disbelief as he tried to coax you out of hiding. “Are you about to tell me that was your first kiss?” 

“Not really.” You groaned, “I’ve been kissed before, just not like that.” 

“Like what?” You could hear the slight amusement in his voice. 

“Like more than just a peck on the lips.” You admitted, still buried in his chest. “Jesus Christ, this is so embarrassing.” 

“Sweetheart.” Eddie nudged you gently. “Look at me.” 

“Please?” 

You sighed dramatically and propped yourself up onto your elbows, pouting cutely. 

He got distracted for a moment by your bottom lip and pictured biting it. After a few seconds, he shook the thoughts out of his head and looked at you. 

“That was my first kiss,” He confessed, pink-cheeked, but serious, “Like at all.” 

“Really?” You squinted at him. “Then how do you know I’m a good kisser?” 

It was quiet for a second before you both burst into laughter. 

Dividers by @saradika-graphics Gif by @emziess

Masterlist

Tag request: @walleloveseve @farrowroyale @givemiacookie @jeangeniex @cheesesandwichsanto

[brainwashedkitten]

Teenage Dirtbags

Pairing: Eddie Munson X F!Reader

Summary: Childhood friends turned rebellious teens, you and Eddie Munson have always been thick as thieves — sneaking out, breaking into abandoned diners, and laughing at the world that doesn’t get them. Her parents disapprove, the school calls him a freak, but none of it matters when they’re together.

Tags: NSFW, smut (18+), fluff, friends to lovers, childhood friends, coming of age, mutual pining, rebellious teenagers, "us against the world", parents disapproval, impulsive getaways, eddie munson is a sweetheart, p-in-v, confessionnal sex. No descriptions of reader. No mentions of Y/N.

A/N: Save to say most of my fic inspiration for Eddie is from songs. If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 9.4k (oh wow)

masterlist

1979

You were going to snap.

The plastic spork bounced off your tray and skidded across the table. You didn’t even need to look to know who threw it—same kid who’d been messing with you all week. Earlier, it was a balled-up napkin. Yesterday, it was a grape. Today, it was everything short of a full-on food fight.

You kept your head down, picking at the sad excuse for macaroni on your tray, hoping he’d get bored. He didn’t.

“Hey,” the boy behind you whispered, yanking a lock of your hair just hard enough to make your eyes sting. “You put glue in it or something? Why’s it so crunchy?”

Your jaw clenched. You bit your cheek to keep from turning around and launching your milk carton at his face. The din of the lunchroom made it easy for teachers to ignore—unless someone got loud.

Which someone did.

“Cease your torment, cretin! Or I shall summon the Lord of the Underworld himself!”

Your head whipped up. The boy behind you froze.

Standing at the end of your lunch table was a skinny kid with a buzz cut, a tattered Black Sabbath patch safety-pinned to his denim vest, and a tray of untouched lunch balanced on one hand like a waiter. His other hand pointed accusingly, finger straight and eyes wide like a televangelist on TV.

“What the hell, Munson?” the boy behind you asked.

The new kid didn’t answer. Instead, he dropped to one knee in the middle of the cafeteria floor and raised both hands to the ceiling.

“Dominos. Ravioli. Infernum-malarkey!” he bellowed, deepening his voice into a theatrical growl. “Oh great horned one, curse this mortal with itchy skin and uncontrollable gas!”

Laughter burst out from nearby tables.

You blinked.

Then—you laughed too.

It started as a confused giggle and turned into a real, actual laugh. Loud enough to startle the kid behind you into silence. He slunk away without a word, disappearing into the crowd.

When you turned back around, the buzz cut boy had taken a dramatic bow.

“Eddie Munson,” he announced. “At your service.”

You stared at him for a beat, then smiled, “You’re weird.”

He beamed like you’d just handed him a trophy.

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”

And just like that, the empty seat across from you wasn’t empty anymore.

1984

The hallway erupted like someone had hit “play” on a fast-forward button—lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking, voices rising as students flooded toward freedom. But right in the middle of the chaos, you took your time.

Your locker was stuck again. You wiggled the handle with practiced irritation, muttering a quiet curse under your breath.

And then—

Slam!

A hand hit the locker next to yours with dramatic flair.

“Need a spell, m’lady?”

You didn’t even have to look. The smug tone, the scent of cheap cologne and cigarette smoke—it was unmistakable.

“You’re gonna bruise the metal if you keep doing that,” you said, lips tugging into a smile despite yourself.

Eddie Munson leaned against the lockers like he owned the hallway, grinning at you through his mess of curls. His denim vest was half-unbuttoned over his Hellfire Club tee, and he had a binder stuffed with loose papers under one arm. Somehow, he made chaos look cool.

“Maybe it’ll bruise back,” he quipped, giving your locker a gentle kick. It creaked open instantly. “See? You just have to speak its language.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he said, stepping back so you could grab your books, “you keep me around. Which says so much more about you than it does about me.”

You bumped his shoulder as you closed your locker, and he didn’t move an inch.

“Plans tonight?” he asked, falling into step beside you like he always did.

“Not unless you’re planning something.”

He grinned wider. “I may or may not have found a way into the old diner by the train tracks.”

You arched a brow. “Eddie.”

“It’s abandoned! Kinda. Mostly. Anyway, I hear the power still works.”

You stopped walking and turned to him, arms crossed. “If we get caught again—”

“We won’t.” He leaned in with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “We’re ghosts, remember? Shadows. Teenage legends.”

You stared at him for a beat, then let out a quiet laugh. “You’re full of shit.”

“And yet,” he echoed with a smirk, “you keep me around.”

You rolled your eyes again, but there was no hiding the fondness in it. You always rolled your eyes around Eddie. And he always stayed close anyway.

Like he had since the cafeteria, five years ago.

Later that night, the lock was rusted, the side door warped just enough to slip a crowbar through. Eddie grunted as he wedged it in, muscles tense, tongue poking out slightly in concentration. With one good shove and a metallic clank, the door creaked open.

“After you, partner in crime,” he whispered, bowing with a flourish.

You stepped inside, the soles of your sneakers crunching on old tile dust. The air smelled like mildew and grease that had long since congealed into memory.

A few rays of moonlight filtered through cracked windows, casting long, silvery shadows across the booths and checkered floor. The whole place looked like someone had locked up in ’64 and never came back. A half-burned “Daily Special” board still hung above the counter. A stack of chipped coffee cups waited behind the bar like someone might show up to pour a round.

“Holy shit,” you breathed. “This is so cool.”

“Told you.” Eddie’s voice was soft, reverent even. “Place is like a time capsule. All it needs is a jukebox and someone to roll by on skates.”

You wandered past the booths, running your fingers over the cracked vinyl cushions. The red had faded to dull maroon. He followed a few steps behind, glancing around with wide eyes like a kid in a haunted house—excited, cautious, thrilled.

“Bet there’s still silverware somewhere,” he said, hopping over the counter with a thud. He pulled open a drawer, rattling around. “Bingo.”

He held up a rusted spoon like it was buried treasure.

You chuckled, ducking behind the counter with him. “I’m stealing a salt shaker. This is too good not to commemorate.”

“Here,” he said, digging deeper into the drawer. “Comet-brand bottle opener. Still shiny.”

You pocketed it with a grin. “We should open a museum.”

Eddie stood up on the counter, arms spread wide. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Hall of Bad Decisions. Featuring cigarette burns, petty theft, and a distinct lack of adult supervision.”

You laughed louder this time, the sound echoing off the walls.

The truth was, no matter how dusty or broken the place, it always felt electric with Eddie around. Every forgotten building was a playground. Every half-dumb idea felt like genius. With him, even rusted cutlery felt like gold.

You leaned against the counter, smiling up at him.

“This place is gonna be ours for a while, huh?”

He looked down at you and nodded, his grin softening.

“Yeah,” he said. “Until the next one.”

Eddie’s van purred softly in the driveway, headlights off. The glow from the porch light was enough to see the curve of his grin as he leaned across the driver’s seat to look at you.

“You sure you don’t want me to summon Satan again?” he teased, voice low. “Might scare your mom into going easy on you.”

You laughed quietly, hand already on the door handle. “Pretty sure she’s more terrifying than Satan.”

He tilted his head, mock serious. “Valid.”

A beat of silence passed. You looked at him. He looked at you.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said. “That diner was… weirdly magical.”

He smirked. “Like I said—teenage legends.”

You leaned over and bumped his shoulder gently. “Call me when you get home.”

Eddie saluted you, then added, “I’ll keep an eye out for demon cops. You never know.”

You rolled your eyes, but it made you smile as you slipped out of the van and jogged up the front steps. You gave him one last wave before unlocking the door and slipping inside.

The smile dropped as soon as the door clicked shut.

The hallway was dim, the only light coming from the kitchen. Your mom was sitting at the table, elbows resting on a half-folded newspaper, her fingers pressed against her temple. She didn’t even look up when she spoke.

“You know what time it is?”

Her voice wasn’t angry—just tired. Drained in that way that made your chest twist a little.

“Yeah,” you said softly, stepping out of your shoes. “I lost track.”

Your mom finally looked up. Her eyes flicked to your jacket, your tangled hair, the faint whiff of dust and old grease you carried back from the diner.

“You were with him again.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

She sighed and sat back in her chair, eyes heavy. “You can’t keep doing this, sweetheart.”

You stayed by the doorway, hands in your pockets, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” you mumbled.

“Not yet,” she said. “But trouble follows that boy like a shadow.”

You didn’t say it aloud, but you thought it anyway.

Good. So do I.

Without another word, you walked down the hall and shut your bedroom door behind you.

The only light in your room came from the moon outside your window. You crossed the floor, dropped your jacket on the bed, and fished into your pocket.

The bottle opener from the diner caught the moonlight just right as you turned it over in your hand.

You smiled again—just a little this time.

The smell of questionable pizza and overcooked green beans lingered thick in the air, but it didn’t matter. You were already weaving through the tables with your tray in hand, heading toward your table—the one where noise, weirdness, and near-constant laughter were part of the deal.

“Okay, but we cannot open with ‘War Pigs’ again,” Gareth was saying, waving half a sandwich like it was a conductor’s baton. “We’re becoming predictable.”

Jeff leaned across the table, chewing thoughtfully. “People like predictable. It’s crowd control.”

Doug piped up with a mouthful of tater tots. “Predictable gets you heckled.”

“And heckled means notoriety,” Eddie added from the center of the chaos, his boots kicked up on an empty chair, half a Twinkie in hand. “Notoriety builds legacy.”

You dropped your tray across from him and plopped into your seat, arching an eyebrow. “You guys planning a set list or starting a revolution?”

Eddie pointed the Twinkie at you like a preacher. “Both, sweetheart. Both.”

“You’re late,” Doug said, nudging his tray your way. “We almost gave your seat to a freshman.”

“You touch my seat, I take your soul,” you deadpanned, snatching a tater tot off his tray.

He shrugged. “Fair.”

“Anyway,” Eddie said, pulling a notebook from beneath his jacket like it was classified intel, “we’re down to two opening tracks—‘The Trooper’ or ‘Symptom of the Universe.’”

You bit into your apple. “You’re seriously debating this like it’s the damn Super Bowl.”

“Because it is,” Gareth said, dead serious. “Thursday night. The Hideout. Four people in the audience max. Maybe five if Jeff’s mom shows up.”

Jeff raised his soda can. “She always does.”

“I’m just saying,” you said, setting your apple down, “no one in that bar cares what song you start with. They just want something loud, something angry, and maybe to get a free beer if they flirt with the bartender.”

Eddie beamed at you. “And that’s why you’re an honorary member of this band of degenerates.”

“Honorary?” Doug asked. “She literally helped us roll for loot two weeks ago.”

“I fell asleep halfway through,” you reminded him.

“And still somehow survived the ogre ambush,” Gareth muttered.

“Yeah, ‘cause Eddie kept rerolling behind the screen.”

Eddie gasped, hand on his chest. “Are you accusing your fearless Dungeon Master of cheating?”

You grinned. “Not accusing. Just observing.”

He tossed a crust of bread at you. You ducked. The others laughed.

The table was loud, obnoxious, and borderline unbearable to anyone sitting within a ten-foot radius. But to you? It was home. You didn’t care about the campaign schedule or the band drama half as much as they did, but it didn’t matter. You were part of it anyway.

Here, no one tried to change you. Or warn you away from being yourself. Or away from Eddie.

Which, judging by the way he was still looking at you over the rim of his soda can—with that crooked smile that always spelled trouble—you’d have to deal with later.

But for now, you kicked your feet up beside his, stole another tot from Doug’s tray, and settled into the noise.

Later that day, you were walking toward Eddie’s locker, planning to meet up before heading to the parking lot. But you knew something was wrong before you even saw it.

The crowd gave it away.

A couple of underclassmen lingered nearby, whispering and pretending not to look. A few seniors passed, snickering behind their hands. That knot in your stomach twisted tighter with every step.

And then you saw it.

FREAK

Spray-painted in jagged red letters across Eddie’s locker door. The paint still dripped, fresh and bold and proud.

Eddie was already there, standing in front of it like it wasn’t even his. He had one hand in his pocket, the other gripping the strap of his bag, eyes scanning the word like it was graffiti on a bathroom wall and not a personal attack.

You approached slowly. “Jesus…”

He looked over at you, then back at the locker. “Creative, huh?”

“Are you okay?”

He snorted. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

But you didn’t buy it. Not from the way his mouth pressed into a thin line. Not from the way he wouldn’t touch the door.

“It’s bullshit,” you said, voice low, sharp. “We should tell—”

“Don’t,” he cut in gently. “It’s not worth it.”

“Eddie—”

“It’s just a word.” He finally reached forward and popped the locker open like the paint wasn’t even there. “I’ve been called worse. Hell, I am worse. Freak’s kind of a promotion.”

You stared at him. He looked tired. Not angry. Not even hurt. Just used to it—like he’d seen this coming the day he first wore a Dio shirt to school and never looked back.

He pulled out a book, slammed the locker shut, and slung his arm around your shoulder like nothing happened.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go do something illegal.”

You tried to smile. Tried to match his energy.

But you kept glancing back at that word. And the way he didn’t even flinch.

You weren’t even in a bad mood until you heard the voice.

“…yeah, I did it. Told you I would,” some guy was bragging just outside the door. “Spray-painted it right on his locker. FREAK—like billboard size.”

A snort of laughter followed. “No way.”

“Swear to God. My cousin had that red paint in his garage. Took like three seconds. Guy’s a loser anyway—no one’s gonna do shit.”

Your jaw clenched. You peeked out through the cracked door just enough to see who was talking.

Ryan Garrison.

Smug. Stupid. Already walking away with two other guys, all of them laughing like they’d just pulled off a harmless prank and not openly vandalized someone else’s property.

Your hands curled into fists inside your sleeves.

You didn’t say anything then. Not yet.

But you had a name now.

And something about the way Eddie had looked at his locker yesterday—like it was a fact of life, not something he deserved to fight back against—stuck to your ribs like ash.

This wasn’t going to slide.

Not this time.

Behind the bleachers, Eddie was sitting on the concrete, knees pulled up, lazily plucking at the strings of his guitar. The smoke from his cigarette curled lazily into the air. He didn’t look up when you approached—he never had to.

You dropped beside him, legs stretched out, pulling your sleeves over your hands.

“I know who did it.”

He paused, just long enough to let the words settle. “Did what?”

You gave him a look.

He sighed through his nose, set the guitar down gently beside him. “Doesn’t matter. I already told you—”

“It was Ryan Garrison.”

Now he looked at you.

You could see it then—how his jaw tensed for just a second. Not surprised. Just… disappointed in the predictability of it all.

“He was bragging about it in the hallway,” you went on. “Didn’t even bother to whisper. Just loud and proud with his dumbass buddies like it was a joke.”

Eddie leaned back against the wall, looking up at the sky. “God, I’d love to be that stupid. You think life’s easier when you’re that full of yourself?”

“Probably,” you muttered, then nudged his knee with yours. “But also… I have an idea.”

Eddie turned to you slowly, brow arched, curiosity piqued. “Oh no.”

You grinned. “Oh yes.”

“What level of felony are we talking here?”

“No felonies,” you said sweetly. “Just… maybe some light vandalism. Minor property damage, at worst.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“I say we skip last period,” you continued, “grab a carton of eggs from the corner store, and redecorate Ryan Garrison’s shiny little Camaro.”

Eddie blinked. “You want to egg his car?”

“Don’t you?”

There was a long pause. Then:

“I do love performance art.”

You bumped shoulders. “Thought so.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like he was trying to be the voice of reason, but couldn’t quite resist. “You’re gonna get detention.”

“You’ll be right there with me.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not letting you do it alone,” he said. “If you go down, I’m going down with you.”

“Us against the world,” you said, holding out a pinky.

Eddie linked his pinky with yours. “Always.”

The lot was mostly empty, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the faded lines and scattered cigarette butts. Ryan Garrison’s Camaro—sleek, waxed, obnoxiously red—sat like a trophy near the back row.

You crouched behind a scraggly bush with Eddie, both of you gripping your smuggled plastic bag of ammo: a dozen slightly-warm eggs from the corner store fridge. You could barely contain your grin as you peered around the shrub like war criminals on a covert op.

Eddie whispered, “Okay, listen. We do this fast, like guerrilla warfare. You take the driver’s side, I’ll take the back. We launch, we leg it. Got it?”

“Got it,” you said, cracking your knuckles dramatically.

“One… two… go!”

You darted out from cover, pulling an egg from the carton mid-run. The first one hit the windshield with a glorious splat. The second one smacked the driver’s side door, dripping yolk down the shiny paint.

Eddie whooped from the rear bumper. “Eat poultry, you shiny bastard!”

He chucked two in rapid fire—one hitting the trunk, the other bouncing off the rearview mirror with a satisfying crack.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, breathless with laughter. “We’re going to hell.”

“We were already going to hell!” he shouted gleefully, winding up and letting one rip straight at the hood.

Then, “HEY! WHAT THE HELL?!”

You didn’t even turn around to confirm. You knew that voice.

“Run!” you yelled, grabbing Eddie by the sleeve.

You both took off, legs pumping, laughter bubbling out of your chests as Ryan’s furious footsteps pounded behind you.

Eddie tossed the empty bag over his shoulder as you rounded the edge of the lot, diving into the passenger seat of his van while he jumped behind the wheel.

He jammed the key into the ignition. “Come on, come on, come \*on—\*YES!”

The engine roared to life just as Ryan came into view, red-faced and livid, streaks of yolk still dripping down his car in the distance.

Eddie peeled out of the lot with a screech of tires, flipping him the bird out the open window. You slammed the door shut just in time and nearly doubled over with laughter.

“Holy shit!” you gasped, clutching your stomach. “We’re actually gonna die!”

Eddie was howling, one hand pounding the steering wheel. “Did you see his face?! He looked like his soul left his body!”

You were breathless, wild with adrenaline and glee, wind whipping through the open window as the town blurred past you.

“That felt so good.”

Eddie glanced at you as the wind whipped through the cracked windows, hair tousled, eyes gleaming.

And in that moment—in Eddie’s van, hair messy, heart racing—you felt more alive than you had in weeks.

Just two teenage dirtbags with egg-stained hands and nowhere else to be.

The van was parked at the edge of the woods, a spot you both stumbled on years ago—your unofficial hideout from everything. The trees opened into a clearing that caught the last light just right, turning everything gold and soft and quiet.

You and Eddie were lying side by side on the grass, backs pressed into the earth, heads tilted to the sky where the clouds burned orange and pink.

The adrenaline had long since faded, leaving a slow, syrupy warmth in your chest. One of your shoes was off. Eddie’s jacket was draped over both of you like a shared blanket.

He was playing with a blade of grass between his fingers, eyes half-lidded. “Do you think the eggs did any actual damage? Like, cosmetic damage. Paint-eating level.”

“I hope so,” you said softly.

He chuckled. “You’re terrifying.”

You turned your head toward him. “You’re just now realizing that?”

He gave you a lazy grin, and the world shifted just a little.

It was quiet for a moment. Not awkward. Not tense. Just quiet.

Then Eddie spoke again, voice lower. “You ever think about how long we’ve been doing this?”

You blinked. “Breaking and entering? Vandalism? Petty crimes in general?”

He snorted. “No—well, yes—but I meant… this. You and me.”

You swallowed, heart thudding. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

He plucked another blade of grass. “It’s weird, right? Everyone else seems to… grow out of their people. Switch friends like seasons. But you stuck.”

You smiled, looking up at the sky again. “Maybe I just like weirdos.”

“Lucky for me,” he muttered.

You didn’t say anything for a moment. You were too busy trying to memorize this version of Eddie: eyes soft, voice gentle, golden light kissing his cheekbones.

You could feel it again—that fluttery thing in your chest that always showed up when he got quiet like this. You’d buried it for years under jokes and reckless nights and pretending you were just partners in crime.

But it never really left.

And now, lying beside him like this, it itched behind your ribs.

You turned your head slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You know… if you ever decide to grow out of me, I’m locking you in that abandoned diner.”

He tilted his head toward you, smirking. “You’d have to catch me first.”

“Oh, I’d catch you.”

He chuckled, and the sound felt like home. Then, more seriously, “Not gonna happen. You’re stuck with me.”

Your chest ached in that soft, good way.

“Good,” you said, almost too quiet to hear. “I don’t really want anyone else.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward.

It was full of something unspoken.

And you let it hang there, golden and quiet, in the space between your shoulders and his.

You should’ve known something was off the second you walked through the door.

Your mom was in the kitchen, humming. Humming. She hadn’t done that since... since she took your journal and called it "worrisome." And your dad was pretending to read the paper, though he hadn’t turned a page in five minutes.

Your stomach dropped.

“Sweetheart,” your mom called, too brightly. “We’re having dinner with the Darrows tonight. Come change, would you? Put on something… nicer.”

You blinked at her, halfway out of your shoes. “The Darrows?”

She smiled, the kind that never reached her eyes. “You remember their son, Nathan? He goes to the youth group at Trinity.”

There it was.

“You invited someone from *church*?” you asked flatly, incredulous. “Why?”

Your dad folded the paper like he’d been waiting to jump in. “He’s a good kid. Polite. Plays varsity basketball.”

“He wore loafers to gym class,” you muttered, arms crossing tightly. “He said *Dungeons & Dragons* was ‘satanic.’”

Your mom’s smile faltered just slightly. “Maybe it’s time you spent time with people who could be a good influence on you.”

You stared at her, chest slowly filling with heat. “This is about Eddie.”

“No,” your dad said—too quickly. “This is about your future.”

You laughed. A cold, stunned little sound. “You think I’m gonna marry Nathan Darrow?”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“You’re trying to fix me,” you snapped. “Like I’m broken. Like Eddie broke me.”

“He’s not—” Your mom stepped forward, her voice soft but sharp, “—the kind of person you should be around.”

That did it.

You didn’t yell. Didn’t cry. You just turned around, walked calmly to your room, grabbed your bag, and climbed out the window like you had a hundred times before.

You didn’t knock.

You didn’t have to.

Eddie opened the door the second you reached the top step, like he already knew it was you.

He took one look at your face and stepped aside, wordless.

You dropped your bag on the floor with a dull thud, toeing off your shoes.

Then you just stood there, in the soft yellow light of his living room, swallowing back the lump in your throat.

Eddie watched you quietly. “They tried again, huh?”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. “Tried to sell me off to a Bible boy.”

He didn’t laugh. He just opened his arms.

You stepped into them without hesitation.

He held you tightly, chin resting on the crown of your head.

The trailer was quiet now. Wayne was working the night shift, and the TV buzzed low in the background, playing some late-night rerun no one was really watching.

You were both at the tiny kitchen table, a half-eaten bowl of cereal between you, cold by now. Eddie was lazily flipping through a tattered Hit Parader magazine while you stared at your hands, still a little wrung out from earlier.

Then, suddenly:

“Let’s get outta here.”

You blinked. “What?”

Eddie looked up, grinning like a spark had just caught in his brain. “Like—out. Just for a night. Let’s go somewhere.”

“Where?”

He shrugged, leaned back in his chair. “Chicago. Why not? It’s what, three, four hours from here?”

You stared at him.

He was serious. And maybe a little sleep-deprived. But also serious.

“You want to drive to Chicago tonight?”

He grinned. “Yeah.”

“Eddie, we don’t have money.”

“I have ten bucks and half a tank of gas.”

“I have eight,” you said slowly. “And a granola bar.”

“See? That’s a feast,” he said, mock offended. “We’ll live like kings.”

You snorted. “What would we even do there?”

He shrugged again, that boyish, chaotic light in his eyes. “Get lost. Walk around the city. Maybe sneak into a punk show. Or sit on a rooftop and scream at the skyline. Doesn’t matter.”

And the thing was… it didn’t.

Because he was looking at you like you were the point of it all. Not Chicago. Not the getaway. Just the idea of being free with you.

You looked at him for a long moment, then said softly, “Okay.”

His smile grew, slow and wide. “Yeah?”

“Let’s be stupid.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

You threw your bag into the back. He brought a couple of tapes, a hoodie, a few crumpled bills, and his lucky lighter. You didn’t even ask why.

As the van pulled out of the trailer park, the town faded behind you like static. Streetlights blurring. The stars overhead flickering faintly, and the open road stretching out in front of you like a promise.

“Freedom tastes like exhaust fumes and bad decisions,” Eddie declared, one hand out the window like he could catch the wind.

You laughed, head resting on the seat. “We’re gonna regret this.”

“Maybe,” he said, glancing at you with a crooked smile. “But not tonight.”

And for once, it felt like you could breathe.

Like running wasn’t running away—it was just running toward something.

Something that looked a lot like him.

They didn’t even check IDs.

Maybe it was the smeared eyeliner and scuffed boots. Maybe it was Eddie’s jacket with all the safety pins or the way you both walked in like you belonged.

Either way, you were in—bodies packed shoulder to shoulder, the ceiling dripping with condensation, someone screaming into a mic like the world was ending and it needed to be loud.

You and Eddie lost yourselves in it. No one from Hawkins here. No judgmental stares. Just noise and lights and sweat and freedom.

He grabbed your hand during a guitar solo and spun you in the crowd, his hair sticking to his forehead, laughing like he was seventeen and unstoppable. You grinned wide, your voice raw from yelling, from singing along even when you didn’t know the words.

Later, after the band finished their set and you’d slipped out a side door that led into an alleyway full of graffiti and old posters peeling off the bricks, Eddie fished out a joint from his pocket like it was treasure.

“You carried that through state lines?” you asked, eyes wide.

He just smirked. “You’re welcome.”

You both leaned against the alley wall, the buzz of leftover adrenaline in your chest, sharing slow, quiet puffs between bursts of laughter.

The world softened.

The city was asleep, or pretending to be. Traffic lights blinked for no one. Steam rose from the grates in the sidewalk. You and Eddie walked side by side, dazed and giddy, your fingertips tangled together without thinking about it too hard.

You were both too high to be cold, too happy to care.

You kicked a stray can down the street. He tried to hop on a newspaper box and nearly fell off. Everything was hilarious.

And then, in a lull between laughs, he said, “Y’know, this feels like a movie.”

You glanced at him, lips parted in a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Like… the part right before the world gets all complicated again.”

You were quiet for a moment. The good kind of quiet.

Your hand tightened around his.

“I don’t care if it gets complicated,” you said softly, watching your steps on the sidewalk. “As long as you’re in it.”

He looked over at you—really looked—and for once, didn’t deflect with a joke.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. No dramatic tone, no grand promise. Just fact.

You nodded, a little dizzy. From the weed. From the night. From the boy beside you who made this whole goddamn city feel like home.

“I’m glad I have you,” you murmured, barely audible.

He squeezed your hand.

“Right back at you, trouble.”

The world was pale and still when you woke up.

Your head rested on Eddie’s chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing gently rocking you awake. One of his arms was curled around you, his other hand half-asleep against your hip. The old blanket he kept in the back was tangled around your legs, and the van windows were fogged from the inside.

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

There were no words.

Just the soft hum of morning settling in, the birds starting their songs, the ache in your limbs from a night lived hard and full.

Eventually, Eddie blinked awake, eyes squinting at the light filtering through the windshield. His gaze flicked down at you. He didn’t look surprised. Just… calm.

You gave him a sleepy smile.

He smiled back.

Nothing was said. Nothing had to be.

Eddie parked a few houses down from yours like usual. The sun had fully risen now, casting golden light over the familiar neighborhood. Lawn sprinklers clicked on. A dog barked somewhere nearby. Everything felt painfully normal.

You sat in the passenger seat for a moment, your bag in your lap, neither of you ready to break the spell completely.

“Well,” you sighed, hand on the door handle. “Back to pretending.”

Eddie leaned forward, resting his arms on the steering wheel. “We’ll make it out again. Next time—maybe even with money.”

You smiled, heart pinched in the best way.

You opened the door, swung one leg out—then paused.

Leaning back in, you reached across the console and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks for running away with me,” you whispered.

His eyes widened just a little—but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t joke. He just smiled, slow and warm.

“Anytime, trouble.”

And with that, you slipped out of the van, hugging your bag close, and vanished up the side of your house just before the neighborhood fully woke up.

Eddie watched the spot you disappeared into for a few seconds longer, his fingers brushing the spot on his cheek where your lips had been.

School was out, and the Hellfire boys were all grouped near the back of the lot like always. Gareth leaned against Jeff’s car, drumsticks tapping lightly against his thigh. Doug was halfway through a story about a kid who fell asleep in math and drooled on his own worksheet. You were only half-listening, the zipper of your backpack clenched between your fingers.

Eddie was off to the side, scrawling something into his well-worn campaign binder, crouched on the curb. The sun caught in his hair. His chain hung loose. He looked ridiculous and perfect.

You smiled without meaning to.

“Alright, nerds, same time Thursday?” Eddie called out, shutting the binder with a dramatic snap.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Jeff grinned, already sliding into the front seat.

The group started peeling away, shouting jokes and farewells, backpacks slung over shoulders.

You waved at Doug and Jeff as they piled into the car. “Later, losers.”

“Bye, honorary loser,” Doug called.

You turned back just in time to catch Eddie’s eyes. He grinned, and you shot him a mock salute.

“Drive safe, Munson.”

“I always do,” he lied, winking as he slid into the van.

You didn’t look away immediately.

And he didn’t either.

Then, with a little wave, he backed out and rolled off toward the main road.

You were still watching the van disappear when Gareth stepped up beside you, arms crossed.

“So,” he said casually. “When are you gonna tell him?”

You blinked. “Tell who what?”

He gave you a knowing side-eye. “C’mon.”

You tried to laugh it off. “You’re imagining things.”

“Sure,” he said, drawing the word out. “Totally. You just *happened* to stare at him like he personally invented sunlight.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

Gareth just smirked. “I’m just saying. The rest of us already know. It’s just you and Eddie who haven’t figured it out yet.”

You turned away before he could see the color rising to your cheeks.

“See you Thursday, Gareth.”

“You owe me five bucks when you finally kiss,” he called after you.

You flipped him off over your shoulder—but you were smiling.

His room was a mess of posters, records, and the distinct scent of weed curling through the air. The window was cracked just enough to let the smoke drift lazily outside, and the two of you were stretched out on the floor, backs propped against the edge of his bed.

Eddie held the joint between his fingers, gesturing with it as he recounted the latest Hellfire session like he was reading from a holy text.

“And then—this is the best part—Doug’s bard tries to seduce the necromancer’s skeleton minion, like full-on charisma roll, flowers, everything—”

You choked on a laugh, nearly dropping the soda can in your hand. “What did you do?”

“I made him roll with disadvantage for being a creep,” Eddie said proudly, eyes alight with glee. “And the skeleton punched him in the face.”

You snorted, nudging your socked foot against his leg. “God, you’re so mean to them.”

“I’m fair,” he corrected, passing you the joint with a grin. “It’s not my fault their stupidity knows no bounds.”

You took a hit and leaned your head back against the mattress, exhaling toward the ceiling, warm and light and a little dizzy in the best way.

Eddie kept talking, something about a cursed dagger and Jeff accidentally summoning a demonic goat, but you weren’t really listening anymore. Not fully.

You were watching him.

The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. The way he moved his hands too much when he got excited. The little scratch in his voice when he’d smoked just enough.

Something in your face must’ve changed—softened, maybe—because he stopped mid-sentence and tilted his head at you.

“…Am I that interesting,” he asked, smirking slightly, “for you to stare at me like that?”

You blinked, startled.

Heat crept up your neck.

“Maybe,” you said, too slow, too honest.

He blinked, the smirk faltering for just a second—then he looked away with a quiet chuckle, scratching the back of his neck like he didn’t know what to do with the silence that followed.

You passed the joint back to him, your fingers brushing his. Neither of you commented on how long that touch lingered.

He cleared his throat, eyes flicking toward the window.

“You’re weird,” he said finally, voice a little softer now.

“You’re weirder,” you murmured back, your cheek tilted toward your shoulder as you watched him.

Then, after a beat, you blinked and looked away.

“…Sorry,” you said softly, the word slipping out like it was pulled from somewhere deeper than you expected. “For staring.”

Eddie didn’t answer right away.

You figured maybe he was trying to think of something funny to deflect with, like he always did. But then you heard the creak of the mattress as he shifted closer, and when you glanced back at him, he was already looking at you again.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he said, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. No smirk. No teasing.

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

Eddie leaned in just slightly, one elbow resting on the floor, hand curling near your knee but not touching.

“I like it,” he added, voice low.

Your breath caught.

“Like what?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“The way you look at me,” he said. “Like I’m… something.”

You blinked. The joint burned slowly between his fingers. You didn’t even notice the smoke anymore.

“You are,” you said before you could stop yourself. “You’ve always been something.”

Eddie let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a laugh, like he didn’t know what to do with the truth of that. “You’re really gonna kill me, aren’t you.”

You tilted your head. “What do you mean?”

He looked at you, his eyes tracing yours like he was trying to memorize the way you looked when you were this close. When the light was soft and low and you weren’t looking away.

“Because I’ve wanted to kiss you for, like, ever, and if you keep looking at me like that…”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish.

You leaned forward, slow but sure, giving him time to stop it—he didn’t.

Your lips brushed his in the softest, smallest movement, and then again, fuller this time, your hands finding the fabric of his shirt to hold onto.

Eddie let the joint fall into the ashtray. He kissed you back with both hands cradling your face, warm and a little clumsy like every nerve in him was firing at once. His thumb brushed your cheekbone as he pulled you closer, tasting like weed and soda and every shared laugh you’d ever had.

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t desperate.

It just was.

Something about kissing Eddie felt inevitable now — like you’d already been halfway doing it for years in every shared secret, every getaway, every “you okay?” and “come with me.”

The weed buzzed warm through your limbs, making everything feel hazy at the edges. Soft. Slower.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed against your lips, eyes flickering over your face like he wasn’t sure you were real. “You’re really doing this to me, huh?”

You smiled, fingertips tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Just shut up and keep kissing me, Munson.”

That got a breathless laugh from him, the kind that disappeared into your mouth as you pulled him into another kiss. Deeper this time. Messier. Less careful. His hands slid up under your hoodie, thumbs tracing the skin of your waist like he couldn’t believe you were letting him.

You rocked into him just slightly — enough to make his breath catch, enough to let him feel you weren’t playing around.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, mouth trailing down to your jaw, then under your ear. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

“You’ve been ruining me since seventh grade,” you whispered back, tilting your head to let him in.

You felt him smile against your neck, his hands tightening on your hips like he couldn’t help himself.

“Take me to your bed.”

Eddie’s eyes widened — pupils already blown out from the joint you shared earlier, but now they were all you could see. “You sure?” he asked, voice rough with restraint.

You nodded. “I’ve never been more sure.”

For a second, he didn’t move — just looked at you like he was trying to etch this moment into his soul. Then, carefully, he lifted you off his lap and helped you to your feet, tugging you gently by the hand toward the bed.

Once you were sitting at the edge, Eddie stepped between your knees, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Still with me?”

You answered by kissing him again, pulling him down with you until your back hit the mattress and he was leaning over you. You could feel him — his cock, hard and pressing into you through layers of clothes — and your cunt clenched in response.

Hands fumbled with zippers and fabric, laughter slipping between kisses as you both struggled with nerves and anticipation. You helped him pull off your hoodie and toss it somewhere on the floor, followed by your shorts. His shirt went next, then your bra, then your underwear — and suddenly you were bare beneath him, flushed and glowing.

Eddie’s eyes roamed every inch of you like he’d never seen anything so sacred.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Like… shit, I don’t even have words for you.”

Your face flushed deeper. “Then maybe just kiss me.”

And he did — from your lips to your neck, down your collarbone, teeth grazing gently as his hands explored you. When his fingers found your folds, he paused at how soaked you were.

“You’re really like this for me?” he murmured, running soft, slow circles that made your thighs twitch. “Goddamn…”

Your back arched, head falling back with a gasp. “Eddie…”

He took his time, working you open with gentle touches, one finger inside you, then two, curling and coaxing until you were clinging to his arm.

Only when you were writhing, panting, nearly coming undone from just his fingers, did he reach for a condom from the drawer.

You watched as he pulled his pants and boxers down, revealing his cock — flushed, thick, and hard. You swallowed at the sight, nerves and need colliding in your gut.

Eddie noticed. “Hey,” he whispered, leaning over you again. “We go slow, alright? You say the word, and I’ll stop.”

You nodded, hands trembling slightly as he rolled on the condom and settled between your legs, guiding himself to your entrance.

The stretch was slow — deeper than anything you’d felt, and you gasped, eyes fluttering shut. Eddie stilled, brushing your hair from your face.

“You okay?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah… just full.”

He kissed your temple. “I got you, sweetheart.”

When he started moving, it was careful — slow thrusts, each one deeper than the last, his hands bracing on either side of your head. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting more.

Every drag of his cock against the walls of your cunt made heat bloom low in your belly. His name left your lips like a chant, and in return he whispered yours with quiet reverence.

“Feels so good… you’re so perfect,” he breathed, voice cracking slightly as his thrusts got a little faster, a little harder. “I’ve wanted this—God, I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Your fingers clawed into his back as the tension built in your core — a tight, spiraling burn. And when his hand slid down to circle your clit just right, it tipped you over.

You came with a cry, clenching around him, and that was all it took.

Eddie moaned your name as he buried himself deep one last time, spilling into the condom with a quiet, shuddering gasp. His body collapsed over yours, forehead pressed to your shoulder as your breaths mingled in the thick silence.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment.

Just breathing.

Just there.

Eventually, Eddie rolled to the side and pulled you with him, your limbs tangling as you lay together in the warmth of it all.

You stared at each other in the dim light, faces flushed, lips swollen. Then, shyly, you leaned in and kissed him — soft and slow.

“Still high?” he murmured.

You smiled. “Maybe. But also just… happy.”

He brushed his thumb over your cheek and grinned. “Me too.”

Your head rested on Eddie’s chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart as your fingers absentmindedly traced circles on his skin. The room had gone quiet except for the hum of the amp in the corner and the soft rustling of sheets every time either of you shifted.

His arm was wrapped around your shoulders, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

“You good?” he asked eventually, voice a little raspy from smoke and breathless moans.

You nodded against his skin. “Yeah. Really good.”

A beat.

Then his voice dropped quieter, more uncertain. “So… that wasn’t just a high thing, right?”

You tilted your head to look at him. His eyes met yours, softer than you'd ever seen them. There was no teasing in his face, no cocky smirk. Just Eddie — wide-eyed, open, vulnerable.

You shook your head. “No. It wasn’t.”

A long breath left him, like he’d been holding it since the second your lips first touched. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve had feelings for you since, like… forever. And if I just ruined everything by being a horny idiot, I’d probably walk into traffic.”

You laughed quietly, scooting up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “You didn’t ruin anything. I like you too. You know I do.”

He let that sink in, blinking up at the ceiling for a second. Then he turned back to you, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “So what does that mean for us?”

You hesitated — not out of doubt, but the weight of saying it out loud.

Then you smiled, heart full. “I think it means you’re my boyfriend now.”

He blinked, a beat of silence… then lit up like someone plugged him straight into the power grid.

“Yeah?” he grinned. “Like officially? I get to tell people you’re mine and everything?”

You smirked, tucking your face into his neck. “Only if I get to tell people you’re mine too.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling you impossibly closer. “You’ve always had me.”

There wasn’t a formal declaration, no big gesture. Just the two of you tangled up in each other, whispering and laughing and exchanging quiet kisses until you both dozed off.

And when Eddie drifted to sleep with his arms still around you, he had the softest, dumbest smile on his face — like this was exactly where he was meant to be.

The cafeteria buzzed with noise, same as any other day — clattering trays, sneakers squeaking on the linoleum, the occasional yell from the jocks’ table. But none of that mattered as you made your way toward your usual spot.

You slid onto the chair beside Eddie with a lazy grin, and without saying a word, you reached into your pocket and handed Gareth a crumpled five-dollar bill.

He blinked, then slowly smirked as he took it. “Knew it. Knew it.”

Eddie glanced between the two of you, confused. “Wait, what the hell is this?”

“She owed me five bucks,” Gareth said casually, tucking the bill into his jacket. “Told her the day you two finally kissed, she’d owe me.”

Eddie’s brows shot up. “There was a bet?”

You shrugged innocently, picking at your lunch. “It wasn’t a bet. It was a prediction.”

Gareth snorted. “Same difference.”

Doug leaned forward, frowning. “Wait, kissed?”

Jeff narrowed his eyes. “Are you two—?”

Gareth grinned smugly. “Oh yeah. They’re a thing now.”

Doug blinked. “Since when?!”

You leaned back with a smile. “Since Friday.”

Then, just to twist the knife, you added casually, “Might’ve been more than just a kiss.”

There was a beat of silence before all three of them — Gareth included — let out overlapping groans of “Ew!” and “Dude!” and “We did not need to know that!”

Eddie was laughing, head thrown back, clearly loving every second of it. “God, I love this table.”

Doug covered his ears. “There are things you keep to yourself, man!”

“I did!” you said through laughter. “I was just being honest!”

Jeff shook his head. “There’s honest, and then there’s traumatizing your friends at lunch.”

Eddie leaned in, dropping his arm behind you on the chair. “They’ll live. Let them suffer.”

You grinned and rested your head against his shoulder for a second, completely unbothered by the dramatic reactions surrounding you.

Gareth muttered, “If you guys start making out at the table, I swear I’m transferring schools.”

You winked at him. “Noted.”

In the weeks since that night, everything had shifted — but in the best way. You and Eddie were still you — still sneaking off, still laughing until your stomachs hurt, still thick as thieves — but now there were kisses between conversations and fingers laced under the lunch table. He left scribbled notes in your locker. You stole his flannels. Everyone in school knew, and honestly, neither of you cared.

Being with Eddie was easy, loud, chaotic, and soft in all the right places.

But even with how bold you both were, one line remained uncrossed: your parents.

Until one afternoon, completely unannounced, Eddie Munson showed up at your front door.

You were in your room when the knock came. Then the second knock. Then your mom calling your name, a note of confusion in her voice.

When you came down and rounded the corner into the living room, you nearly choked on your own breath.

Eddie was standing in front of your parents, hands folded politely in front of him, hair surprisingly tamed, black jeans swapped for clean, hole-free ones, and his usual graphic tee replaced with a collared shirt. A button-up, no less.

He looked like someone had dressed him for a church bake sale.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am. Sir," he said, with the most forced, dramatic smile you'd ever seen. “I hope I’m not intruding. I just wanted to formally introduce myself.”

Your mom was too stunned to speak. Your dad just blinked.

You, on the other hand, stood frozen behind them, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. You could practically see the effort Eddie was putting into this performance — the polite tone, the slightly bowed head, the complete absence of any skull rings or visible chains.

He even brought a Tupperware of cookies. Store-bought. But he tried.

Your mom finally said, “Well… that’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Oh, I do my best,” Eddie replied with a small chuckle, glancing briefly at you behind their backs — and the look he gave you was pure mischief.

You were going to lose it.

You walked him out with the front door clicking shut behind you, silence stretching over the porch like a blanket. The evening air was warm, a slow breeze rustling the trees above as you both stepped down the driveway toward his van.

Eddie was quiet for once, hands in his pockets, still wearing that ridiculous button-up. His curls had started to frizz a little from the heat, and the edges of his nerves were just starting to show again.

You didn’t say anything until you reached the passenger side.

“That was stupid,” you said, arms crossed, but your mouth was tugging into a smile.

Eddie turned to you, playing innocent. “Define stupid.”

“Showing up like that. The shirt, the cookies, the ‘yes ma’am, no sir’ routine—”

“Hey, that was sincere performance art,” he shot back with mock pride. “Do you know how hard it was not to swear for twenty minutes straight?”

You laughed, stepping closer until you were right in front of him, your fingers brushing the fabric of his cleaned-up façade. “It was so stupid.”

He gave you a crooked grin. “But did it work?”

You looked up at him, letting your eyes soften just enough to let the truth slip through. “Yeah.”

Eddie exhaled, just a little. “Good.”

You leaned in, pressing a hand to his chest, fingers curling against the collar of his shirt. “You didn’t have to prove anything to them.”

“I know,” he said softly, resting his forehead briefly against yours. “Wasn’t for them.”

Your heart fluttered.

You let that hang between you for a second before pulling back, smirking. “Still stupid.”

“Yeah,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “But you like stupid.”

You nodded. “I like you.”

He kissed you gently — not rushed, not greedy, just warm and sure and a little amused. When he pulled back, he whispered, “Same.”

Then he opened the driver’s door with a dramatic bow. “Until our next ridiculous adventure, m’lady.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed him lightly toward the seat. “Go before my dad changes his mind.”

He blew you a kiss and climbed in. As the van rumbled to life and pulled away, you stood there barefoot on the driveway, grinning like an idiot.

Yeah, you liked stupid.

Especially when stupid came with a heart like his.

Things didn’t change overnight.

Your parents didn’t suddenly love Eddie — they weren’t inviting him over for Sunday dinners or quoting Iron Maiden lyrics at the table — but they were trying. The edge in their voice softened when they said his name. The disapproving glances turned into skeptical ones. Your mom even smiled at him once, unprompted.

That was a big day.

Eddie kept being Eddie. He didn’t start tucking in his shirts or going to church — he just showed up with a little more patience and a lot less noise when it came to your parents. He didn’t mock the rules anymore (at least not out loud), and you made sure not to push every boundary just to prove a point.

You were figuring it out. Together.

And as for the two of you?

It was good. Stupidly good.

The dynamic hadn’t shifted much — you were still sneaking off in his van, still laughing until they wheezed, still lying side by side under open skies talking about nothing and everything — but the label gave it something extra. Something real.

Calling each other “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” didn’t change who you were. It just put a word to what you'd already been feeling for a long time. Like a puzzle that had been finished for months but was missing that one last piece.

Now, it was all there. In place. Whole.

Sometimes, you’d look over at him while he ranted about guitar solos or rolled a joint with theatrical flair and think — God, how did I ever live without this?

And sometimes, he’d catch you staring and smirk. “You’re doing it again,” he’d tease.

“Doing what?”

“Looking at me like I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.”

You'd smile, lean in, and say, “That’s because you are.”

And Eddie — blushing, grinning, stupid, hopeless Eddie — would mumble something like “Damn right,” and kiss you like he meant it.

Because he did.

And you never stopped letting him know you meant it, too.

[brainwashedkitten]

you’ll be mine | chapter one . the daze

pairing | stalker!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary | when eddie notices the way jason starts to look at you and flirt with you, an unsettled feeling in his stomach starts to grow. his mind begins to fog and he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do with his feelings.

content warnings | no established relationships, bubbly!reader, stalker!eddie, obsessive!eddie, unhealthy attachments/behaviors, possessiveness and jealousy, jason carver flirting w reader, not proofread

word count | 2406

series masterlist |

Cigarette smoke whipped and swirled around in the air, the wind coming in from the open windows of the moving van, intertwining fingers together. Curly hair got caught up in the whirlwind. A light fog covered the crumbly road and the view surrounding it. The smell of a rain filled morning nearly overpowered the stingy smoke.

A long arm hung out of the window, the burning cigarette in hand threatening to snuff out at any moment. Thumb and pointer finger fumbled with it, too, as if impatient and ready to go. Long stop lights and lazy drivers made early mornings all the more miserable.

Eddie hated it.

He hated the way everything looked on rainy mornings. He hated the way the fog blurred his vision. He hated how gray everything looked. He hated being stuck in a town that still looked gloomy even after all of this went away. Worst of all, he hated how - despite finding and building himself spaces - he found little joy in being inside of Hawkins.

Eddie had his club and his band, and most importantly his uncle. But the club wouldn’t last much longer, and his band had big dreams that reached outside of the bounds of this town. After everyone graduated, he planned to ditch this place and move on to what he truly enjoys doing - performing. Metallica, one of the few bands that inspires his creativity, was playing lowly in the confines of his van. He may be rambunctious and annoying, but he wasn’t inconsiderate.

The boy finally found his way to Hawkins High, the sight of it alone making his stomach turn. This was really going to be his year. He needed out of this shithole. Eddie pulled into a parking spot abnormal to the one he takes behind the school, away from the road. This spot was in a far corner of the main lot, away from the big crowd, but in sight of what would soon matter most.

He’s a little over halfway through his cigarette when you arrive, pulling into a parking spot painted by you - a senior tradition you were more than excited to participate in. He let out a huff of smoke, thin and fleeing as he stares off at you.

Eddie’s infatuation with you started back during his first senior year. You sat right next to him in English, close enough that he could smell your perfume as you sat and left. You were as sweet as your scent to the boy, always lending him a pencil you never got back. You always figured he was just forgetful. Eddie just wanted to feel your fingers brush against his again.

Infatuation turned into a craving faster than Eddie hit his 7th grade growth spurt. Accidental run-ins in the hallways turned intentional quick, the boy learning your class schedule and usual routine. You always stopped by your locker after lunch just to pop a piece of minty fresh gum in your mouth. Sometimes he was lucky enough to speak to you (a simple hi) afterwards, your minty breath wafting into his face as you wave your fingers at him.

You were part of student council, something that took up some of your time in and out of school hours. Eddie snuck around quietly to find out when you tended to focus on your duties. He even knew where you worked - a quiet coffee shop near the Hawkins Post where you’ve been working part time for a year and a half.

There was a primal need that was bubbling inside of Eddie. He’s been able to satiate it for a while, taking whatever scraps he can get from sneaking around, from plotting and observing you. It was becoming too much to handle. That became evident enough to him now, as he continued to watch you out his van window.

The first two people to approach you as you exited your car weren’t abnormal, your two closest friends greeting you with an excited hug. The three of you were huddled at the hood of your car as you spoke together. It’s not like you guys hadn’t been hanging out all summer together. It’s who approached you next that had Eddie doubling back, nearly dropping what was left of his cigarettes out his van.

Jason Carver.

He had thought, maybe, that the man was approaching Chrissy. The basketball team captain and the cheer team captain. It was like a match made in the deepest depths of hell. And, as if Satan himself crawled a little deeper, Jason looked right past Chrissy. He looked right at you, with his too perfect smile and deep blue eyes. While Eddie couldn’t hear what was being said, he could still see the way you threw your head back after he’d spoke.

His stomach turned for a second time that morning at the sight. He was becoming more ill by the minute, snuffing out the barely lit bud on the side of his vehicle, discarding it onto the ground mindlessly. Eddie has spoken to Jason before. There wasn’t a single chance that he’d said something funny enough for you to be clutching your chest like that.

Eddie was never a fan of his. The blonde was stuck up, arrogant, cocky. He had a handful of disgusting comments on standby for anyone who was even a little weird or out of place in this dump. It was his repulsive attempt in making up for what little character he had. Frankly, Eddie’s never met an athlete who he didn’t think was a complete dickhead.

What would you want from someone like Jason? You were kind, thoughtful. And sure, Eddie has built up some sort of idea of you in his head. He’s never spoken more than 10 words to you in a single day. It was all a years worth of delusion built up inside of his frequently concussed head. One thing he did know, though, was that there wasn’t a chance on Earth you were anything like Jason.

He watched as you walked into the school, side by side with the one person he truly loathed there. This year was going to be a lot more difficult than Eddie’d hoped for.

———

With his crinkled, folded up schedule in hand, Eddie walked himself to his homeroom.

He had had his whole morning planned out. Eddie wanted to know where your locker was at this year, engrave it into his mind. He wanted to stumble upon your homeroom, simply a few dozen steps behind you as to not catch attention. Eddie even had a plan to count how far away your homeroom was from his by the second. He wanted to route his entire day based upon your schedule rather than his, even if it meant making him late for his own classes. As long as he finally got his passing grade in Mrs. O’Donnell’s class, that’s all that mattered.

With a slouch, Eddie walked into his homeroom, jaw clenched tightly. He found his way to the farthest corner of the room, slipping into the chair with the intent of staying put until he was released to first period. His fingers still clenched the paper in his hand as he sat in deep thought. Everything about you intoxicated him, but seeing Jason next to you was nearly enough to sober him up.

“Eddie?” Your sweet voice rang out inside of the classroom quietly. Eddie’s eyes drifted up immediately from their spot on the ground, finding their way to you. You were so close to him, standing next to his desk with the toothiest grin plastered on your face. He was quick to notice you’d changed your perfume - your once fruity scent was now a warm vanilla. It was perfect for you.

“Y/N,” Eddie croaked, suddenly realizing the rough grip he had on his schedule, releasing it on instinct. He watched as you sat at the desk in front of him, sitting your bag at your feet.

“Same homeroom!” You proclaimed excitedly, seemingly oblivious to how tense the man in front of you was. You also didn’t seem to notice that he wasn’t meant to be here. Admittedly, he shouldn’t have even been in high school the year before, either, when you’d met. Eddie was sure by now that you’d heard the extremely truthful rumors. He wasn’t dense, he knew people spoke about him. In any other case, he wouldn’t think twice about it. But with you, he cared immensely.

“How was your summer? Anything fun happen?” You asked him sweetly with the same smile as before, unwaveringly kind.

“It was fine,” Eddie nodded, mind searching for anything of use to say. His summer was boring, bland, useless. There was no beach vacation or weekend getaway like he was sure you of Jason had experienced. The highlight of his summer was stopping outside the coffee shop you worked at to steal glances at you, but he couldn’t quite tell you that. “Spent it working on cars mostly, just a bunch of junk people refuse to get rid of.”

Somehow, you managed to put a positive spin on it. “I spent a lot of my summer working, too. It keeps you busy ya know?”

All Eddie could manage to do was nod. Your kindness to him always preserved, even with all of the talk of him going around. It was during moments like this that had him wondering if there was a chance you’d felt the same he’d felt about you, that these small, innocent chats had some ulterior motive. That maybe, just maybe, Eddie had a true fighting chance.

———

Eddie spent the first half of his day inside of his own mind, grappling with what all had happened. He replayed your conversation over and over again. He was desperate to remember the tone of your sweet voice, the light scent of your perfume, the way your lips quirked up at the sight of him. Eddie was desperate for your attention and your love, he needed it in a way that should concern him. He grasped onto every last interaction with you like a lifeline. If he didn’t hold on and believe, he’d sink. Maybe he should finally make a move on you. The whole thing with Jason had to have been a fluke.

That dream shattered quicker than it formed as Eddie found his way into the lunchroom at around 11:15. Those few hours he spent in class, stuck in his own mind, were strenuous, tiring. All for nothing.

There you were, again, with Jason. You were sat next to him at his lunch table, giggling again at something he’d said. The other jocks surrounding him didn’t seem to give a damn about what the blonde was saying, too caught up in their own conversations to even listen. You leaned into him as you laughed in a way he’d never seen you act before. Were you two flirting? Eddie was gonna be sick.

“Dude,” Gareth said, watching as Eddie moves his way to the end of the cafeteria table, body heavy and rough as he pulled out his seat and slumped down into it. “You’re gonna break something if you keep slamming shit around like that.”

Eddie’s friends barely got their laugh in before he started glaring at them, eyes furrowing together, clearly in distress. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be in a rough mood - he found himself mad at a lot of things. Unfortunately for his bandmates, they drew the short end of the stick. His bad moods became everyone’s problem while he was around. For the most part, they agreed with him. Jocks sucked, Hawkins sucked, society sucked. It was easy to roll with these mood swings. Today, though, there was nothing for them to relate to. Not that he’d let them in on his thoughts anyways. This was too personal.

“Gonna break your nose if you keep talking,” Eddie mumbled pointedly to Gareth. He let his gaze find you again, all buddy buddy with Jason. Somehow, while he was staring rather intensely at the two of you, Jeff caught sight of it.

“Oh, Jason and Y/N?” He asked, an airy chuckle leaving his mouth. Eddie’s head snapped over to his he boy, who was shaking his head in disbelief. “Y/N and I both got put on the sports section of the yearbook this year. Guess that’s why she was so excited. Figured it wasn’t cause of me.”

Eddie’s jaw tensed up again as Jeff explained himself. This was just perfect. Jeff bitched about the committee all of last year, and he was assigned the club section. He couldn’t imagine the earful he’d be getting this year now that he’s on sports with you, who seemed to be infatuated with the basketball team captain.

“Have fun with that,” Eddie told him through gritted teeth.

Thats all he had the stomach to say the rest of lunch. He didn’t eat a thing, or contribute anything to the conversation the boys were having. All he could do was sit and wallow and think.

———

Eddie was checked out the entire rest of the school day. He sat in silence as he tried to sort through his thoughts, deciphering what he was feeling and how he should deal with it. The boy walked the halls without a care in the world who he nearly ran into or who was trying to speak to him. He was sure it was all just some disgusting, backhanded comments anyway. He was used to it by now.

It wasn’t until he walked out the front doors of the school that he checked back in. Eddie heard your sweet voice, ears and mind tuning in just enough to find where you were. You were two dozen feet in front of him, walking with Chrissy to your car. You two were speaking about a party this weekend, one you seemed particularly excited to go to.

He was aware of the back to school parties that happened every year, and out of the 6 that hes been in high school for, he’s only attended 2. If you were gonna be there, Eddie had no problem making it a third time. And, although it was a little hard to hear you speak, he did hear you say something about an empty house and booze. Typical.

Wherever this party was, Eddie knew he’d find out where and when. He was determined to.

[brainwashedkitten]

Motormouth

Boyfriend!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Thinking about breeding kink and Eddie 'Motormouth' Munson shooting his mouth off at the feel of your pussy clenching around his cock…Bonus points because he actually wants to be a daddy. 

A/N: The second place winner of this poll. It was a tight race—these two were tied for a bit there. Also, I’m posting this so I can work my way down the poll to get to the nosferatu inspired smut and the dark!eddie anal that isn’t really that dark (so y’all better enjoy it, smut so good it made the author wet fr)—those two are I think my favorites that I wrote during ovulation week. Pls ignore any mistakes or odd sentence structure–I wrote this very fast and in a fiery, horny passion

Word Count: 700ish

Warnings: 18+ mdni!! PiV unprotected, breeding kink, pregnancy kink?? unhinged levels of dirty talk, cream pies, dom!Eddie, daddy kink but in this way, Eddie wants you to have his babies, smidge of degradation, smidge of name calling (one ‘whore’)

Masterlist

“Fuck, sweetheart. You’re squeezin’ me so tight, you want my fucking babies that bad, huh? You wanna be a mommy so fucking bad you gonna take my cum from me?”

Unable to formulate actual words at the pounding of his hips, you simply nod your head messily, mumbling out a strained, “Uh huh.”

“Yeah, I know you fucking wan’ it. Wanna be full o’me, don’t ya, honey?” Groaning at the way his words elicit a particularly tight squeeze of your walls, he continues spewing out absolute filth through panting breaths. “Wan’ me to fuck my seed so far up your greedy little cunt you’ll get two babies for one, I know you fuckin’ do.”

“Please! Eddie, jus’ wanna feel you,” you whimper, losing all awareness of reality as he crushes your body under his weight. Desperate, rutting hips slap the back of your thighs; his cock invades your poor, tight hole with the fervor of a man possessed.

Shaking his head, Eddie grits his teeth as he leans down, pushing into your space even more at his declaration. “Nah, you’re not here to feel me, sweetheart. You’re here to gimme a baby like I asked for. You gonna give it to me? Gonna let me breed this tight little cunt?” 

The sharpness of his words matches the pang of his cock as it just barely kisses your cervix, knocking the breath from you. You don’t know whether you’re desperate to cum, for him to cum, or for your abused pussy to get a break. “I’ll give you whatever you want, please! Eddie, please, jus’ wan’ you inside me.”

He’s already inside you, that’s why you’re currently huffing out puffs of air in time with his thrusts. But he knows what you actually mean—you want his cum. Although, in the hazy heavenly feel of your walls clinging to him, he does note how you haven’t specifically agreed to his request to breed you. That only frustrates him more—you want to cum, you want something from him, but you’re offering nothing in return. If you want to feel good, he’s going to need you to give something up first—that’s how deals work. 

“I am inside you, honey. But you gotta say the magic words if you wan’ my cum, if y’wanna feel all nice and warm inside—I know you’re a whore for being stuffed.”

At your mewling response—mind too consumed by his thick length stretching you so wide to actually respond with words—he presses a large palm onto your lower stomach, reveling in the way he can feel his cockhead nudge his hand.

The new pressure elicits a pleasured scream as you throw your head back, wailing into the air, “Please! Please, please, please can I have your cum?”

Eddie bites his lip in hunger as he watches you lose your mind over a little pressure. “Nah, baby, that’s not it. Tell me what I wanna hear,” he orders; the magic words you chose are not the ones he was looking for. 

Too cock-drunk to function, you shake your head with pinched brows, trying to force any thoughts to come—scrounging up any idea of what he might be looking for. “I don’t–I don’t know. I–please!”

A wicked grin spreads across his lips as he realizes he has you right where he wants you. “I’ll give you a hint, sweet girl, would you like that?” 

Another pleading whimper and a nod. Tears well up in your eyes as his thick cock pushes you right to the precipice of heaven—or damnation, you don’t know.

“You can say something like, ‘Daddy, wan’ you to make me a mommy’ or how about, ‘Daddy, gimme your…’” His condescending, mocking tone makes you preen as he leaves the last option open for you to finish. 

“Please, daddy, gimme your babies! Wanna have your babies so fucking bad! Fill me up, please, god, I wanna feel you,” you wail, squeezing your eyes shut in ecstasy, finally letting the tears run down your temples.

“Good girl,” he coos, sliding his hand to where you need him most. All it takes is the first tight circle around your clit and you’re screaming for him. 

“D–Daddy! Daddy! Please, fuck! Oh, god!” 

“Oh, good girl, baby,” he chuckles breathily, his dark eyes alight with hunger as he watches you cum—feeling your cunt milk his cock for all its worth. “Fuck, take it, take my fucking cum,” he grits, groaning wildly, shoving himself even deeper. “Gonna knock you up, make you mine forever, honey.”

He leaves you with so much cum stuffed into your pussy, he might be right—he might’ve given you two babies in one go. 

A/N: I really want people to read the dark!Eddie fic so I’m gonna give y’all the synopsis here. The only reasons I’d label it as dark are A) there’s some manipulation about what counts as losing your virginity (it’s not losing it if it’s anal!) and B) it’s in response to someone asking for more dark!Eddie after my last one.

Overall, though, Eddie is very very sweet to the reader—he’s just obsessed with you. Basically you’re dating Jason Carver, he sends you to pick up his weed from Eddie, you think you have to pay but you don’t have money, Eddie conveniently doesn’t tell you Jason already paid, smut ensues (sex for goods yurrr) etc etc. It’s porn with very little plot, but the smut is so fucking good and I like thinking about desperate perv!eddie getting a taste of Jason’s girl and sending her on her merry way knowing he’ll be seeing her again.

Tag List: @defututus @ratsematary @american-idiot-jpg @glassbxttless @justalotoffanfiction @savybabyyy @thepinkpanther83 @sorayasworld @slaytheusurper @dangerousnbeautiful @hellmastereddie @ali-r3n @lilithera0 @tlclick73 @joonbread @jesterghuleh @bellalillyrose @bigboymoozz @am0iur @pastelpoppies @lionkingshiddenmessage @girlwedontcare @cheesesandwichsanto @avenjames-anderson

[brainwashedkitten]

Under the Surface

Joseph Quinn x Fem Reader

Summary: You’re at a mutual friend’s wrap party, thinking the night will be just another industry blur—until you lock eyes with him. Joseph Quinn. Charming, effortlessly sexy, and annoyingly observant. You don’t know it yet, but you’re about to fall hard. Sexual tension crackles from the first glance, and he definitely notices you checking him out. He doesn’t mind.

Authors Note: Hi my filthy little sinners—this is chapter one of my Joseph Quinn smut-fic series. No actual sex in this chapter (I know, I’m evil), but the slow burn and tension is deliciously unbearable. You’re gonna want to throw your phone by the end. Buckle in—this is about to be an unholy ride.

—xoxo

Word Count: 875 words

Disclaimer: 18+ Mature

CHAPTER ONE: FIRST SIGHT

(2nd person POV)

You didn’t want to come.

That’s the first thing you tell yourself when the room heats, when the lighting starts to feel too golden, and the air too thick. You didn’t want to come to this stupid wrap party full of people you didn’t know and actors you didn’t care to meet. You figured you’d show your face, steal a few flutes of champagne, then vanish into the London night with your heels in one hand and dignity barely intact.

But then—he walked in.

You see him before anyone else does. Joseph Quinn. Soft curls, soft lips, soft voice—none of which matches the brutal hunger in his eyes. He’s in all black. Jeans that sit too well on his hips, a button-up shirt with two undone, revealing just a bit of chest and that teasing dip of a silver chain. He glances around, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, like he doesn’t quite belong but knows he’ll be wanted anyway.

You pretend you don’t notice.

He pretends he doesn’t notice you noticing.

Spoiler: He does.

He leans against the bar and orders something dark, neat, no ice. His voice? Low. Effortless. The kind that scrapes along your skin even from ten feet away. You can already feel what it’d sound like at your throat. Whispered, maybe rough, maybe too polite until he absolutely wasn’t.

You’re halfway through fantasizing about what his fingers might feel like between your legs when he glances at you.

Eye contact.

Fuck.

You feel it in your gut. The spark. The shift. The way his gaze drops, lingers—just a second too long—then lifts again, curious now. Like he wants to know what color panties you’re wearing under that too-tight dress. Like he already knows.

Your drink is half-full when he crosses the room.

“You’re not drinking,” he says, voice rough velvet. “Not a fan of champagne?”

You blink. “I’m more of a whiskey girl.”

That earns you a crooked grin. “Dangerous.”

“Only if you are.”

There’s silence between you—but not awkward. Charged. Thick with suggestion. His eyes rake over you, slow, deliberate. You feel it like a fucking caress.

“You don’t look like you want to be here,” he says finally.

You shrug. “Didn’t think I’d find anything interesting.”

“And now?”

Your smile sharpens. “Still deciding.”

He laughs, soft but with teeth. You imagine how it’d sound between your thighs. Shit.

“Name?” he asks, stepping closer.

You tell him.

He repeats it like a secret. Your skin burns when he does.

You think: If he touches me, I’ll melt.

He doesn’t—not yet. But the promise is there.

And it tastes like sin.

[brainwashedkitten]

Dirty Pretty Things

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

An Eddie Munson Fanfiction

Summary: You and Eddie are alone late at night in his garage, and things get hot fast. Dressed in nothing but his shirt, you straddle him, teasing and grinding until he can’t take it anymore. He lays you out in the back of his van, eats you out until you’re shaking, then flips you over and fucks you hard—promising to ruin you completely. It’s dirty, raw, and absolutely addictive.

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! This is my very first time posting an Eddie Munson fanfiction here on Tumblr, and I’m both excited and nervous to share it. I’ve poured a lot of heat, heart, and filth into this first chapter, and I really hope you all enjoy it. If you’re into steamy, dirty, no-holding-back Eddie content—this one’s for you. Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!

Word Count: 980 words

Disclaimer: 18+ Mature

Chapter 1

The Garage

The first time you let him touch you, you’re in his garage—sitting on his lap, wearing his shirt and nothing else. It’s late. Some ungodly hour where no one decent’s awake, but you and Eddie haven’t been decent since the minute he pushed you up against the dryer two nights ago and growled in your ear that he wanted to ruin you.

And god, he meant it.

The old Metallica tape is playing low in the background, the air sticky with smoke and motor oil and whatever the fuck that cologne is he wears that drives you insane. His hands are everywhere—palming your ass, teasing your thighs, sliding up under the shirt you “borrowed” from his floor without asking.

“You know you’ve got no idea what you do to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice gravel and sex. His rings are cold against your skin, but his fingers are hot as sin, trailing up your spine until your body arches into him like a prayer.

“You say that,” you whisper, breath hitching when his thumb brushes the inside of your thigh, “but I think you like being a little tortured.”

Eddie grins, and fuck if it doesn’t look sinful on him.

“I like watching you squirm,” he says. “Especially when you’re trying to pretend you’re not soaking wet just from sitting on my cock.”

Your cheeks flame, but you don’t deny it. You can’t. He shifts under you just enough, and the hard press of him against your bare pussy makes your breath catch.

“Jesus, Eddie.”

He hums like he’s proud of himself. “Been thinking about this all damn day. What you’d look like like this. What you’d taste like.”

His hand slides forward, cups your cunt. You moan—soft, desperate—and he growls.

“So fucking wet for me,” he murmurs. “You want my fingers, baby? Or my tongue? Or just my cock filling this tight little pussy up till you scream?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. You just grind down harder, needing friction, needing him.

Eddie catches your chin with his fingers and tilts your face toward his.

“I asked you a question,” he says, voice rough. “Use that mouth or I’ll make you beg with it.”

Your lips part. “I want your mouth,” you breathe. “I want you to eat me until I can’t fucking walk.”

He smirks. “Goddamn, you really are a dirty little thing, huh?”

He lifts you like you weigh nothing, lays you down across the back seat of the old van parked halfway inside the garage. You’re spread out, breathing heavy, shirt hiked up, and when he kneels between your thighs, it’s with a look that says he’s about to worship you like you’re the only religion he believes in.

And then his tongue is on you—hot, slow, fucking perfect.

He licks long and deep, sucks your clit until your hands are in his hair, your back arched, and your moans echo off the walls. He doesn’t stop when you come the first time, or the second. He just keeps going—eating you out like a man starved, like you’re the only meal that’s ever mattered.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are shiny, his eyes dark.

“You think you’re done?” he asks, voice wrecked. “Sweetheart, we haven’t even started yet.”

And you already know what’s coming.

He flips you over, pulls your ass up, and the slap of his palm on your skin makes you gasp. He spreads you, growling low when your pussy clenches around nothing, still aching for more.

“Gonna fuck this pretty little pussy till you’re dripping down your thighs,” he says. “Then I’m gonna spread you open and fill your ass, just like you’ve been begging for in those filthy little dreams of yours.”

You whimper. “Eddie—”

“Yeah, baby,” he pants, pushing the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing, torturing. “Say my name while I ruin you.”

And when he finally thrusts in, it’s deep and hard and everything you needed.

You don’t sleep that night.

You don’t want to.

[brainwashedkitten]

Caught!! <3

Dom!Eddie Munson x sub!fem!reader (smaller body type, plus size) primal knk, predator/prey, major SIZE knk, hint of breeding, biting, unprotected p/v (do not do this), hints of wolf! Eddie and bunny!reader if you squint.

Come crawling faster. Obey your master. - “Master of Puppets,” Metallica. 

It all started out like any other day. You were feeling a bit needy, and came to visit Eddie in the woods, on his usual spot by the bench. Eddie offered you a joint, and a seat on his lap, where the both of you just talked about his upcoming DnD playthrough, watching the autumn leaves fall down. The both of you heard a noise, so Eddie went into the woods to investigate. He told you to stay put, in his words, ‘pretty girls should stay safe on the bench,’ yet you didn’t listen, and went after him shortly. 

You slowly stepped over the gnarled branches, twigs and dead leaves crunching underneath your feet. “Eddie?” “Eds?,” you called out, hearing nothing in return. You wore glasses as well, so seeing in the distance wasn’t your best skill. You felt like you were walking around in circles, your body getting a bit tired from the distance you’ve walked. Suddenly, a hand grabs your shoulder. “Boo,” that familiar, snarky voice, whispered in your ear. Your heart jumped, you let out a large shriek as Eddie stood there, giggling like a maniac. “You scared me!,” you huffed, stomping your foot and crossing your arms, making your breasts stand out a bit more. “Eds. You know I get scared easily. I was just looking for you, worried that something happened,” you explain. “I know, princess. Have to admit, though, you’re real cute when you’re scared. Took me no time to find you.,” his voice suddenly seemed deeper, a glint in his eye. You quickly noticed the bulge growing in his jeans. After that day, the both of you played this game quite often, where Eddie would catch helpless little you in the woods. 

You were running, panting, trying not to slip over loose branches and logs. Your chubby body was quite out of shape, so you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep going like this. You see a large oak tree, and quickly duck behind it, your thong under the skirt touches the wet leaves. You make yourself one with the dirt, and quiet your breathing.

“Little bunny! Little bunny, come on out. You know you want to see what happens when I find you,” a dark chuckle is heard as Eddie’s voice draws closer and closer. “Bunny, don’t shy away from your master, now, yeah?,” his voice calls out. Your Lacey little thong is soaking wet as you listen to his voice. He was coming to find you. Your big, bad, wolf <3. The anticipation was killing you. Big black boots stop right in front of you. They feel cool against your bare, dirt covered, thighs. Big, rough, hands close around your plush skin. 

“Caught you, little bunny,” Eddie smirked, his eyes glazing over your body, his rough hands squeezing the plush of your arms and tummy. “Wanna know what happens to little bunnies that get caught?,” he taunts, as you start to sniffle a little bit, tears coming through. You notice your boyfriend’s bulge start to show.  He was a sadist. He loved to see you in this weak, subby state. And you loved to be in it. “Awww,” he chides, a hand coming up to brush one of your tears away. My bunny girl is crying. Not time for that yet, sweetheart. There’ll be plenty of time later, though,” he adds. You could only stand there and sniffle. “Didn’t wanna be caught, Eds,” you reply back. “Bunnies don’t get to choose, do they?,” he chided at you, and with that, picked up your small body, and started carrying you over to a more private wooded area. 

“Wanna know what happens to little bunnies that get caught?,” he asks, rubbing his throbbing bulge on your thigh as he has you harshly pressed against a tree. You shake your head no, but you knew you wanted to know. “They get bred. Over and over, they get used, they’re just a little toy for their masters,” yeah?,” he chuckles, and bites into your neck as you let out a wail. A hand covering your mouth, Eddie chuckles, “don’t want to hear bunnies scream too too loud, baby. Other wolves might come see.” You seem upset. “They’ll use me too?,” you ask, in a complete state of helplessness as you struggle to be free of his grip, to no avail. “Nah. I don’t share my little bunny. She’s my property,” he says as he continues to kiss and bite your neck. Your soaking wet cunt starts twitching at this point, itching for some kind of release!!

His hands, calloused, a bit dirty from the branches he moved apart to find you, quickly spread your legs, one hand on your thigh, one hand on the plush of your hips, gripping your stretch marks mercilessly. He rips apart your thong, you feel the bark scratch against your thighs. You attempt to close your legs together to get some friction, but a spank quickly stops you. “Ah, ah, little one. Gotta be patient. Gotta examine my catch, make sure she’s in good shape. Gotta wait, little bunny,” he smirks, a thumb coming up to her push itself into your mouth. You eagerly suck his dusty thumb, looking into his chocolate brown eyes as you do. “Fuck,” he grunts softly. 

He leans down between your legs, simply looking at you. “Can feel the heat coming from her. Think I’m gonna eat well tonight,” he chuckles, and then dives in, his plush mouth quickly finding your clit, attaching to it like a leech, and not letting go. “Too much! Too much!!!,” his prey squeals and squirms under him, but he has caught her, and is determined to enjoy his catch <3!! After an agonizing moment of Eddie enjoying his prey’s screams, he moves on to your neck, you feel his long brown locks of hair tickle your body as his lips are all over your face, your neck. Your teeth clash.

Your soft body against his rough, broad, hairy chest, one of his arms caging you to the tree. His supple lips overshadowing yours, attacking yours, his other arm between your legs, making sure that your legs don’t close together, edging you. He pulls away, his voice breathy, his lips red and swollen. “My bunny can’t come without permission, can she?,” he whispers to you, that deep chuckle sending tremors down to your core. You quickly shake your head, and manage to free yourself of his grip. You drop down to your knees, giving him your best doe eyes. “I’ll do anything!! Please. You caught me. Need you,” you plead, baring your neck to him, your hands on his thighs, completely surrendering yourself to him. You were at his mercy, your predator’s mercy.

He keeps on nipping at your neck, your puffy swollen tits, his rough hands massaging them, as you cry out in pleasure from under him. You love how his metallic rings feel against your soft and sensitive skin <3!! 

“Ed.. Eddie! I - uh, please,” you squeak out, your eyes meeting his. “What’s the matter, sweet thing? Too much for you? Daww,” he grins, his sadistic side  showing. “Guess you’re just gonna have to take it, little one,” he chuckles, as he manhandles you over onto your tummy, his hands running down your hips and ass.

“Fuck,” he softly moans, running his hands over the back of your thighs, tracing circles, while your whole ass and pussy was right in front of his face. His fingers gently trace circles on your puffy lips, and you lean into his big hand, while he cups your pussy roughly, and you let out a wail. “She’s just dripping for me, isn’t she, bunny?,” he taunts. Your eyes are glazed over at this point, you can do nothing but nod stupidly, the side of your face pressed up against the tree, your hips wiggling for some kind of friction that you didn’t have yet. His fingers move inwards, three fingers sliding into you, curving against your ridged gummy walls. You close your eyes as he continues his ministrations. “Fuck. So perfect.” His soft lips give your sopping wet pussy a gentle kiss, before you hear the clink of his belt. Your empty hole clenched at the sound!!

His rough hands come around to mount your hips, digging into your stretch marks. “Ready, bun? Gonna go fast. Hard,” he warns you. But you didn’t need a warning. You were so ready, ready to be full of him. And full of him you were, you bit your lip as pleasure enveloped your body in a warm blanket, as his thick cock bullied its way inside you. You were so wet that Eds was able to fill you to the brim in an instant, bottoming out. His eyes closed, his face tilted up, with no warning, he grabbed you by the neck, tracing his hand over the base of your neck, and then used his arm to pull you flush against him, your back against his sweaty chest, your plush tits resting on your arm. A breathy whisper in your ear, a nibble at your neck, and he starts to move. In. Out. Those full, full, balls slapping against your puffy lips. His fingers push their way into your mouth, and you close your eyes in bliss, sucking on them. His calloused hand grips your chin as he fucks you restlessly, like an animal in rut, a predator mounting his prize, ready to be bred and full of seed. Your vision blurs as his soft cockhead touches your g-spot over and over. 

His messy brown locks around your shoulders and neck, his plush lips peppering your back with kisses. “Taking me so well, bunny. Just a little more. That’s it.” His groans send you to heaven as you clench around him and let go. He cums in you, his prize, his prey, taking a minute after to soothe you. “Did so well for me, sweet girl. My little bunny. Took me so well,” his breathy voice, barely a whisper in your ear, spoke, as you were still flush against his back, his hands tracing circles over your soft torso. He pulls out of you slowly, as not to hurt you, and then turns you around to face him, where you meet him in a tender kiss. “Wanted to be good for you, Eds,” you whisper to him, and he replies back with “I know, and you did so fuckin’ well. Come, let’s get you into a warm shower,” his thumbs come up to pinch your cheeks a bit, and he carefully leads you out of the woods, stopping every so often to check if you’re okay or help you out over a branch.  

He leads you back to the van, helping you step into it and buckling your seatbelt for you, and he drives the both of you over to the Munson trailer, with his hand on your thigh. 

a/n: Thank you for reading! Please reblog, like, or comment to help support my page! I'm ovulating and I would love to be caught by Eddie in the woods... ugh.

[brainwashedkitten]

Stormy - Eddie Munson x Reader Pt 2

Stormy - Eddie Munson x (she/her) reader pt 2

Summary: After Eddie spent the night, he wakes up in the most inconvenient position, leaving him in an awkward position.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, Lots of smut, nasty, swearing, LONGEST SMUT EVER this beat the last record, a lil bit of fluff at the end.

Notes: You don't need to read part 1, but it would give more context

The morning light was soft—one of those pale golden kinds that crept in without asking, slipping between the curtains and painting quiet shapes across the living room. The storm was long gone, the skies now a calm stretch of blue, feathered with wisps of cloud. 

Eddie stirred first.

Warmth. That’s what he noticed before anything else. The heat wrapped around him—cozy and grounding. His eyelids fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, and it took a few seconds for his brain to fully catch up to what his body already knew.

His arm was slung low around her waist, hand tucked just beneath the hem of her hoodie where soft, bare skin met his fingertips. She was curled in close, her back pressed snug against his chest, their legs tangled beneath the blanket like they’d done this a hundred times before.

His other arm acted as a pillow under her head, still half-asleep and tingly, but he didn’t dare move.

And then it hit him. 

Fuck.

He froze, a jolt of panic ran through his still-waking body as he realized, with crystal clarity, that he was hard. Fully. Painfully. Inconveniently.

Morning wood. Stupid. That’s all it was. A biological betrayal.

But his heart had already picked up its pace, thudding loud in his ears as awareness sunk in. Everything about her was soft. Warm. Close. And his body had the absolute audacity to respond like this.

He held his breath, willing himself to stay still, to not ruin the fragile peace of the morning. Because it wasn’t going to last. She was going to wake up and he would have to pretend like everything was normal. He wanted to savor the moment, where she was still asleep. And she felt… Relaxed. Serene.

Meanwhile, Eddie was spiraling.

Because he could smell the faint scent of peaches and cream from her lotion. He could feel the way her fingers were loosely curled around his forearm, like they belonged there. Like she had reached for him in her sleep and decided to stay.

His brain short-circuited under the weight of it all.

They’d shared space before—movie nights that ran too long, sleepovers that ended with accidental tangles of limbs, giggles muffled in the dark. But this felt different. He felt different. Because lately, she’d been showing up in his thoughts more often—between guitar chords, between heartbeats.

Her laugh. Her eyes. Her lips.

He was in trouble.

Okay. Okay. Breathe, Munson. Don’t make it weird, he told himself. You're just friends. Best friends.

He scolded himself, squeezing his eyes shut again, but the feeling of her against him was electric—every point of contact lighting up like a fuse.

And then—she shifted.

Just a little. A sleepy adjustment. But it was enough to wiggle and press her hips back into him, and Eddie felt every single neuron in his body scream from the friction.

He froze, statue-still, heart in his throat.

She didn’t mean it. She’s just moving. She’s asleep. Relax. 

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, pleading for his body to calm down—even as his thoughts ran in the opposite direction. Fuck, his body wasn’t listening. It was a traitor, every nerve humming, every muscle strung tight. His mind raced for distractions—bills, the time he tripped over his own amp cord during practice, literally anything that wasn’t her.

Then, she sighed—a soft, content sound that escaped her lips like a breath of music. Her shoulders relaxed, her body settling deeper against him.

It took everything in him not to pull her closer.

His fingers twitched against her waist, craving more contact. More skin. Just a little.

But he didn’t move. Couldn’t.

This wasn’t about lust. Not really. It was something deeper. Something slower. The kind of want that made his chest ache. The kind that whispered stay, when every logical part of him screamed run.

Eventually, she’d wake. She’d stretch, smile, maybe tease him for being her personal heater. And he’d laugh. Pretend nothing had happened. Pretend like his whole world has changed and he’s just being confronted by it now. 

And then—she stirred again.

A small groan left her lips as she blinked against the morning light, one hand rising to rub her eyes. Her body pressed closer, just for a second. Eddie didn’t move—didn’t breathe.

He felt it the moment she registered where she was, waiting for her reaction with bated breath—his arm wrapped around her, her body flush against his, the space between them nonexistent. Her breath caught, just a little. Not enough to panic, but enough that he knew she felt it too.

And she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she stayed right there, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice thick with sleep, low and a little hoarse.

It hit him low in the gut. That voice—unfiltered, unguarded—felt like something precious. Something meant just for him.

“Hey,” he replied, managing a small smile, even as his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest.

She turned slightly, just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep, lips parted, a lazy warmth in her gaze. His breath stuttered, taken by her beauty. 

Jesus H. Christ.

His eyes glanced down at her lips. Her lips were so close. He swallowed hard. He could kiss her right now. If he leaned in, just barely, he could find out what she tasted like. 

Do not kiss her. Do not kiss her. Do not even THINK about kissing her.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she said softly, a little grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “Again.”

“You always do,” he said, voice low and a little rough. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie’s heart was pounding like it wanted to stage dive right out of his chest. Loud enough he was pretty sure she could hear it. Say something, he told himself. 

Make a joke. Break the tension. Be cool. 

“You want breakfast?” he added, too quiet, too hopeful.

She hummed. “Mmm… later. Let’s stay like this a little longer.”

His breath hitched. His breath caught, heart skipped a beat. She wanted to stay in his arms a while longer.

“Yeah,” he said, pressing his cheek into her hair like it was no big deal. Like his heart wasn’t singing. “Yeah, we can do that.”

She nestled back against him fully, her body molding to his again beneath the blanket. He barely had time to savor the feeling before—

She froze.

And so did he.

Because she had wiggled. Just slightly.

And now—

Now there was no denying it. His morning wood, already inconvenient, was now… well. Flush against her. No buffer. No mercy. Just thin fabric and his rapidly unraveling self-control.

She let out a groggy groan and mumbled, “Move your arm, it’s digging into me,” her voice raspy and oblivious.

And then—she wriggled. Just a little, but enough to grind down, unintentionally, right against the worst possible place.

Eddie’s soul left his body.

“That’s… uh. That’s not my arm,” he muttered, dying inside.

Silence.

She stilled. Then, slowly, she turned her head, just enough to glance back at him. A sleepy smirk pulled at her lips—mischief and curiosity wrapped in one unbearably pretty expression.

His mouth went dry. His brain—gone.

It was the way he said it—so panicked, so mortified, like he genuinely thought she might kick him off the couch in horror. Maybe she should have been embarrassed too, or at least pretended to be. But instead, she found herself biting the inside of her cheek, trying to contain the completely inappropriate spark low in her stomach.

There was something about the way he stammered through it, voice cracking, face flushed. Hard against her, warm and twitchy and embarrassed. So honest. So Eddie.

It was kind of hot.

Her heart thudded hard in her chest as she stayed still, acutely aware of the way his body was curved around hers, of the way his arm still held her like something fragile. She could feel his breath, shallow and nervous, fanning gently against the back of her neck. It sent shivers down her spine and lit a fire beneath her core.

This was new.

Her cheeks flushed with the realization, but instead of pulling away, instead of teasing him or laughing it off like she might’ve before, she moved—just slightly. A gentle shift of her hips, enough to press herself back into him with intention this time.

Just to see.

A test.

Her fingers, still loosely curled around his forearm, tightened just a little. And she let herself feel it—the thickness of him slotted behind her, the warmth of his chest pressed to her back, the arm at her waist, possessive in a way that felt…good. Too good.

The reaction was immediate—his breath hitched, his whole body going rigid behind her like someone had flicked a live wire through his spine. He didn’t trust himself to move, to speak, to exist without setting the entire room on fire.

His hand twitched against her bare skin. “You, uh… You’re playing with fire.”

A shiver raced through her, goosebumps rising as her stomach fluttered in response. She swallowed hard, heart hammering, surrendering to the ache blooming in her chest that settled low in her belly. Because it wasn’t just about how he felt against her. It was Eddie. 

“I like playing with fire…” she murmured, voice soft, playful, but breathier than she meant.

And that alone—just those words—felt like touching a match to gasoline.

Eddie exhaled shakily behind her, a sound low and rough, like it had been dragged out of his chest against his will. His fingers twitched on her waist again, tightening slightly, just for a second.

She could practically feel him holding himself back.

And that made something deep in her twist with want.

This wasn’t just tension. This was everything unsaid. Every long glance, every shared laugh that lingered a little too long, every almost-touch that had haunted her in the quiet moments when she let herself imagine.

And now… he was here. Tangled up in her. Shaking like she was going to break him if she moved the wrong way.

She wanted to lean in. Closer. Deeper.

“You’re evil,” he groaned. It came out rough, barely controlled, and it only spurred her on some more.

“Tell me to stop…” she murmured, her hand drifting to rest over his hand. Her fingers traced lightly over his knuckles and his rings, feather-light, guiding his hand to travel further up her chest. Every stroke lit up his nerves like flint and steel. The cold touch of his rings kissed her along her skin.

“I should. I’m hanging on by a thread.” His voice was hoarse. He didn’t sound convincing. Not even to himself.

“So stop me,” she murmured, her words barely a whisper but laced with provocation. Her body pressed tighter into his, fitting like something that had always belonged. Her legs tangled with his, skin against skin, warm and maddening. “Tell me no.”

Her pulse thrummed in her throat, in her fingertips, as she curled his hand over her breast. A low buzz coiled in her belly—something wild and electric and dangerously close to hope.

Because this didn’t feel like pretending anymore.

Eddie’s heart pounded, deafening in his ears. He knew he should’ve moved. Should’ve backed off before things crossed a line they couldn’t uncross. But her breath ghosted over his neck, and the soft weight of her breast in the palm of his hand—God, it was like they were made for each other. 

A quiet gasp slipped from her lips as her head dropped back against his shoulder. The sound undid him. His arousal pressed thick and aching against her, drawn to every breath she took. He followed her lead, spellbound, barely daring to breathe. His touch came gentle—tender—as though she might break beneath his hands.

Then she shifted her hips, rolling them back against him in a way that left nothing to interpretation. Heat surged through her, fierce and rising, coiling tight in her core. She drew in a sharp breath, soft but unmistakable—and it broke something open in him. 

Eddie groaned, deep and guttural, forehead falling against her shoulder like he could hide from the rush of heat, from the flood of want that nearly stole his ability to think.

His hands flexed around her. “You’re gonna kill me,” he rasped, voice hoarse and broken open.

She turned just enough that her lips brushed his jaw, the faintest touch—just breath and heat. “What are you waiting for?” she whispered, the words light but edged with challenge. A soft, dangerous dare.

Then, wicked and breathless: “Are you finally gonna fuck me, Eddie?”

It wasn’t just arousal that surged through her—it was power. Desire. A sweet ache that throbbed deep inside her. The look in his eyes—wide, wild, and wrecked—was enough to leave her breathless.

And then he captured her lips and pulled her into a deep and ravenous kiss.

Hungry, raw, devastating. His lips were firm, desperate, tugging hers apart like he wanted to consume every breath. It stole the air from her lungs. Her sense of anything except him. All the tension that had simmered between them burst free in a single, hungry kiss. 

Her hands curled into his hair, tangling with his curls. His tongue tangled with hers, matching her rhythm like he’d always known it. Her body arched into him, moaning softly into his mouth as he kneaded her breast, rolling her nippled between his fingers.

She was dizzy with it. Buzzing, her body lighting up from the sensation. His kiss was messy and eager and so good it left her reeling. He kissed like he was afraid it would stop—sucking on her lips so roughly, she was sure they would be left red and swollen. 

They pulled at each other, frantic and laughing between gasps and curses as their clothes were pulled off in a blur. Layers hit the floor without care, all until their bare skin was exposed. He guided her back down onto the couch cushion. 

Their eyes locked—dark, wild, and hungry.

They moved together, tangled close, kissing like they couldn’t stop. Like they wouldn’t. Not until they ran out of air.

His mouth trailed to her collarbone, then lower, brushing soft kisses over her skin like he was learning her by heart.

His curls tickled her shoulders, light and unintentional.

She trembled beneath him, aching, breath hitching—alive in a way that made her skin feel too small.

Because she could feel it.

Not just how badly he wanted her body.

But how badly he wanted her.

And that—God, that—turned her on more than anything.

“Flip over, sweet cheeks.” 

His hands were steady—firm, but gentle—as he guided her onto her knees.

She gasped, caught off guard by how easily he shifted her, how confidently he pulled her hips up, leaving her ass up in the air. Heat bloomed in her cheeks as her face pressed into the couch cushion, breath shallow, body humming, while he knelt behind her.

This new position lit something raw and primal inside him.

He took a beat—just one—to admire her, to run his hands over the smooth lines of her back, the curve of her ass presented so perfectly to him. His palm connected with a soft slap, a sting softened by affection, and her breath hitched when her cheeks jiggled under the force.

“Fuck,” Eddie muttered, eyes taking in every inch of her body.

His hands caressed her slowly, sliding up her spine and back down again. Her skin was hot, trembling beneath his touch. She shifted, embarrassed and shy. 

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the base of her spine. She shivered with anticipation. 

He positioned his leaking tip at her entrance, savoring how wet she was as he stroked along her slit. Soft, beautiful whimpers escaped her lips while she wiggled her hips, chasing more pleasure.

“Eddie, please,” she whispered, heat rushing to her cheeks.

“What’s that, baby?” Eddie teased, voice low and syrup-slick as he took his sweet, torturous time with her. 

His swollen tip slid through her soaked folds, slick and maddening, teasing her with slow precision. An arrogant smirk played on his lips as she moaned—sweet, desperate—at the slight friction he allowed her.

“Come on, Eddie,” she whined, writhing in the heat of her arousal. Her hand reached back to swat at him, more plea than protest.

He caught her wrist easily, chuckling. “Tell me exactly what you want, sweet girl,” he murmured, kissing along her wrist. “Say it. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

He punctuated his promise with a sharp smack to her ass, the sound sharp and deliciously obscene in the charged silence. Her body jolted, hips twitching from the impact, and he felt her clench in response—tight and ready.

When she glanced over her shoulder, their eyes met, and his breath caught. That look—dazed and wanting, with heat simmering beneath it—nearly undid him. He cursed softly, dragging his palm over the sting in slow, soothing circles. She sighed, grateful for the touch, knowing it would leave his handprint blooming across her skin.

“You know what I want,” she huffed, flushed and breathless.

“I can’t read minds, sweetheart,” he said with a wicked grin. “Use your words.”

Another smack. Sharper this time. Her thighs trembled.

She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction—but fuck, she needed him. All of him.

“I want your cock buried deep inside me,” she snapped, the words tumbling out in one shameless, breathless exhale.

He smirked—filthy, triumphant, and completely wrecked by her.

“That’s my girl,” he rasped. “I’m gonna ruin you.”

He pressed his tip to her entrance, firm and patient, the heat of her already drawing him in. Her body tensed, muscles flexing in anticipation, and he pushed—just the head at first—watching the way her back arched, how her breath caught like it had punched right out of her lungs. The stretch had her gasping, jaw slack, a groan muffled into the couch cushions. 

“Ohhh f-fuck—too big…”

“You can take it, sweet cheeks,” he grunted, fighting to keep still. “Just a little more.”

Her body was gripping him like a vice, hot and impossibly tight. “E-Eds—”

She didn’t finish his name—because in one slow, relentless push, he buried himself inside her, all the way to the hilt. His hips met her ass with a deep, heavy slap, his balls flush against her core.

A choked moan tore from her throat as her body fought to adjust, trembling beneath him. He stayed still, every muscle tense with restraint, his fingers sinking into her hips like anchors. His lips brushed over the curve of her spine, placing sweet kisses down the length of it, grounding them both.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, eyes squeezed shut. “You feel so fuckin’ good…”

He didn’t move at first. Just kissed along her shoulder, one slow breath after another, waiting. Letting her adjust. Letting her feel him.

And when her hips rolled—curious, testing—he groaned into her skin.

“D-Do that again,” he panted. “Fuuuck.”

She did, a slow grind of her hips that had him seeing stars. His eyes fixated at where they connected, transfixed. Her arousal glistened around his cock as she rocked back onto him.

“Like that, baby?” she purred, her voice thick with mischief.

He gritted his teeth, hands tightening. “Ohhh fuckkkk, just like that.”

He thrust—slow, deep, precise—and she matched him perfectly, hips rolling in a rhythm that made his vision blur.

Needing her closer—needing more—he leaned down, pressing his chest to her back. His lips found her neck, warm and damp with sweat, trailing kisses that were more like confessions.

“This deep enough for you?” he whispered, breath hot against the shell of her ear.

She nodded, frantic. “Yes—God, yes—”

He pulled back and slammed into her, hard enough to rattle the couch. The pleasure coaxed more of her moans—raw and carnal.

“So deep, Eds—just like that,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she tried to breathe through the stretch.

Now he was moving with purpose. Each thrust sharp, deliberate, building heat between them like fire stoked to the edge of combustion. His thick throbbing cock filled her with each thrust, building the coil in her stomach—hitting all the right spots. Her moans and the slick, wet sound of their bodies meeting filled the room with something obscene and filthy.

He kissed anywhere his lips could. Her shoulders. Her spine. Her neck. Fingers bruising her hips as her walls tightened and fluttered around him.

He felt it coming—the tension in her thighs, the tremble in her breath, the way she gasped his name.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against her skin, driving into her with a relentless, consuming rhythm. “Come for me, baby. Make a mess.”

“Ed-”

And then she shattered—body taut, walls clenched tight, mouth falling open in a silent cry—tears welling along the rim of her eyes. He relentlessly pounded against her. Hard. Deep. Raw. Coming so close to the way she unraveled below him. 

“F-fuck, baby—I’m gonna—” he hissed through gritted teeth, forehead pressing against her shoulder as he drove into her one last time, deeper than before.

His release surged through him like a lightning strike, wrung out by her fluttering walls, the sound of her, and the sight of her. He filled her to the brim, fucking her through her climax until she whined and trembled, hips twitching from the overstimulation. His pace wavered—just for a moment—overwhelmed by the intensity of her, by how impossibly good she felt, how perfectly she fit.

His eyes dropped to their mess, their mingled release dripping down her thighs. His mind spun in a haze. He slowly pulled out, careful, mindful of her sensitivity. She winced, sucking in a breath as he slipped free, and he immediately smoothed a hand down her back.

She went boneless, collapsing onto the couch, breath ragged and body spent.

Eddie sank onto the couch beside her, gathering her into his arms without hesitation. He draped over her, arms on either side of her body, anchoring her beneath him without crushing her. His heart thudded hard against her back, each beat still catching up with what they’d just done.

Her back met his chest, and his hand found her waist, then her belly, gently tracing lazy circles over damp, flushed skin. He hooked his chin over her shoulder, content to breathe her in.

They stayed tangled—sweaty, breathless, still connected—his weight draped over hers, his mouth pressed to her skin as if letting go wasn’t an option just yet. 

The air hung heavy and warm, thick with the scent of sex and something softer underneath. 

She let out a soft, shaky breath. Her cheek rested against the couch cushion, eyes closed, lips parted in that blissed-out daze. He pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder—then another, and another—like he couldn’t stop touching her, even if his body was trembling from release.

“You okay?” he murmured into her skin, voice rough but quiet.

She nodded lazily, a small smile tugging at her lips. “More than okay.”

“Good,” he whispered, exhaling into the crook of her neck. “’Cause I think I blacked out for a second.”

She giggled, the sound light and deliciously spent. “That good, huh?”

Eddie gave a soft groan and nuzzled into her shoulder. “That was… fucking unreal. You were unreal.”

She hummed, arching slightly under his touch as his hand stroked down the length of her arm. The ache between her legs was deep and lingering, but there was comfort in it—in how thoroughly he’d filled her, in how right it all felt.

His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear as he whispered, “You’re kinda dangerous, you know that?”

She turned just enough to glance at him, brows lifting in amusement. “Dangerous?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice dipping with that soft, post-coital affection that only came from being completely wrecked and totally enamored. “You make me feel like I’d do anything just to stay in this exact moment. That’s pretty fucking dangerous.”

They lay like that, limbs tangled, the room dim and quiet. Outside, the world went on—but here, in this little cocoon of warmth and tangled sheets, time didn’t matter. ------------------------

Taglist: @foreveranexpatsposts @jeangeniex

[brainwashedkitten]

Ashes of Us

Cheater!Eddie Munson x reader

If u enjoy be sure to like and reblog!!

PART 2

You never thought you’d be that girl.

The one who lost herself trying to hold onto someone else.

The one who ignored the warning signs — the late replies, the sudden coldness in his voice, the parties he “forgot” to invite you to.

The one who loved someone even when it hurt.

And with Eddie Munson, it always hurt.

You met him freshman year.

He was a mess of denim and chaos, laughing too loud in the back of every lecture hall, scratching song lyrics into the margins of his textbooks instead of taking notes.

You were supposed to be smarter than this.

Smarter than the way he smiled at you one afternoon, all dimples and dangerous promises.

Smarter than thinking you could be the one to fix him.

By junior year, you weren’t smart anymore.

You were in love.

You found out on a Tuesday.

Not a dramatic, cinematic Tuesday.

A normal, bone-achingly cold Tuesday where you were stupidly happy to get off work early, giddy to surprise him.

Maybe you’d even stay the night.

Maybe he’d sing you that half-finished song he always said he was writing about you.

You held onto those maybes like a fool.

His door was half-open.

The hallway smelled like burnt incense and cheap weed.

You pushed the door open with a shy smile already forming on your lips—

—and you saw it.

Her.

In his bed.

In his fucking bed.

Wearing your favorite Metallica shirt — the one you used to steal from his closet, the one he used to tease you about.

Her hands were twisted in his hair.

His mouth was on her neck, the way it used to be on yours.

You froze.

You couldn’t even breathe.

It felt like someone had driven a knife into your stomach and twisted.

You should have screamed.

You should have thrown something, cried, anything.

Instead, you just stood there, a ghost at your own funeral.

And when he finally looked up —

when his brown eyes went wide and horrified —

you realized something even worse:

He knew.

He knew what he was doing.

And he still did it anyway.

“Baby—” he stumbled, shoving the girl off him like she was nothing, tripping over the sheets to reach you.

His voice was cracked and desperate.

“Baby, I— it’s not—fuck, please—”

You stepped back.

You felt like your body wasn’t yours anymore.

Like you were watching this happen to someone else.

She stared at you with wide, smug eyes.

Not even sorry.

Not even ashamed.

“Save it,” you croaked, your throat raw with unshed tears. “Don’t… don’t fucking touch me.”

He was crying now.

Actually crying.

Fat, ugly tears running down his face, the same face you used to trace with your fingers late at night, whispering promises about forever.

“Please,” he gasped. “It didn’t mean anything. I was drunk, I was high, I— I didn’t even know what I was doing—”

“You knew enough to take off your fucking clothes,” you snapped.

Your voice was shaking, but the rage was stronger.

It had to be.

“You meant everything to me, Eddie.”

You said it so quietly it almost didn’t sound like you.

“And I was just… convenient,” you finished, bitter and broken and hollow.

“Someone you could fuck over when you got bored.”

He looked like he was dying.

Like he couldn’t stand to hear the words — because he knew they were true.

“I love you,” he choked.

It sounded like a weapon now, not a comfort.

A curse.

You smiled then — not sweet, not kind.

Something sharp and cold and dead inside.

“No,” you whispered.

“You just love what I let you get away with.”

And then you turned around.

You walked out, ignoring the way he called after you, ignoring the sound of him falling to his knees in the hallway, sobbing your name like a broken prayer.

You didn’t look back.

If you did, you knew you would never leave.

Later that night, alone in your apartment, you let yourself break.

You tore down the Polaroids of you and him taped to your walls.

You deleted every voicemail, every text, every song he ever sent you at 2 a.m.

You cried so hard you thought you might throw up.

You hated yourself for still loving him.

For still aching for him in places you didn’t even know could hurt.

You slept in one of his old shirts — not out of nostalgia, but because you were too wrecked to change.

It smelled like him.

It smelled like the graveyard of everything you lost.

You dreamed of him that night.

Of his hands, his smile, the way he used to call you his lucky charm.

When you woke up, your pillow was soaked in tears.

You realized something even worse than heartbreak.

You would survive this.

And somehow, surviving felt like the cruelest thing of all.

.

.

.

Its currently 5:17 am and i havent slept. Have a lot of this fic done already. Lmk if yall want more!

DONT FORGET TO LIKE AND REBLOG!!!

PART 2

[brainwashedkitten]

Ashes of Us— Part Two

Part 1

It took weeks to claw your way out of the hole he left you in.

Weeks of ugly crying in the shower.

Weeks of deleting his desperate voicemails without listening.

Weeks of ignoring the late-night knocks on your door, the way he slumped against it, drunk and begging.

At first, you wanted to die.

Now?

You wanted him to watch you live.

So you changed.

You cut your hair — jagged and fierce.

Started wearing blood-red lipstick and black leather jackets that smelled like war.

You wore mini skirts and platform boots that made you six inches taller, made you impossible to overlook.

You smiled at the boys who stared too long.

You laughed too loud.

You danced like you were trying to scrub him from your skin.

And maybe, somewhere deep down, you were.

Meanwhile, Eddie?

He was a wreck.

You heard about it through the grapevine.

How he barely showed up to class anymore.

How he looked like hell — thinner, paler, dark circles bruised under his eyes.

You caught glimpses of him sometimes across campus.

He’d see you, and his whole face would crumple like it physically hurt to look at you.

But you didn’t blink.

You didn’t flinch.

You’d just toss your hair over your shoulder, smile at the boy standing next to you, and keep walking.

Standing on business.

One night — late, too late — he tried again.

You were sitting outside the campus bar, legs crossed, sipping a drink you didn’t even like, just enjoying the freedom of being alive.

And there he was.

Shaky, desperate, pathetic.

“Can we talk?” he rasped, voice wrecked.

You didn’t even look at him at first.

Just smirked at your phone, taking your time.

Then — finally — you dragged your gaze up to meet his.

He looked ruined.

Good.

“Talk?” you said sweetly. “About what? How you fumbled the only person who gave a fuck about you?”

His face twisted in pain.

“Please,” he whispered. “I made a mistake. I was stupid. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Just— just give me another chance.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think.

“Hmm. No.”

You stood up, towering over him in your six-inch boots, glittering under the streetlights like a vengeance.

“You broke me,” you said, voice like steel wrapped in velvet. “And I put myself back together without you.”

He flinched like you slapped him.

“You’re just… you’re different now,” he said, voice cracking.

You smiled.

Sharp. Dangerous.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m better without you.”

And with that, you brushed past him.

Left him standing there — hollow, haunted — clutching nothing but the ghost of what he lost.

Later that night, alone in your apartment, your phone buzzed.

A voicemail.

From him.

You stared at it for a long moment, thumb hovering over delete.

But this time… you didn’t.

You pressed play.

His voice crackled through the speaker, broken and small in a way that made your chest ache.

“I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe without you. You’re the only thing I ever got right and I fucked it up. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Please, please, please…”

You sat there in the dark, heart splitting at the seams.

You hated him.

You missed him.

Both could be true.

You pressed your phone face-down against the table before you could do something stupid, like call him back.

Instead, you marched to your speaker, turned the volume all the way up, and blasted “Hella Good” by No Doubt.

You danced around your apartment in your underwear, hair wild, shouting the lyrics into the night.

The waves keep on crashin' on me for some reason

But your love keeps on comin' like a thunderbolt

You had to move.

Had to keep moving before the grief dragged you under again.

Afterward, you wiped your eyes and got to work.

You made Marry Me Pasta — the dish you used to cook for him after his gigs when he was too tired to move, too wired to sleep.

The ritual soothed you.

Garlic, tomatoes, butter, pasta water — everything bubbling together into something good.

You didn’t cry when you ate it alone.

Small victories.

Meanwhile, across town, Eddie was drowning.

He sat on the floor of his shitty apartment, blasting metal so loud the neighbors banged on the walls.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing could drown out the memory of you walking away.

He was spiraling — chain-smoking cigarettes, tearing apart his notebooks, trying to write a song and failing over and over.

He didn’t know how to fix this.

Didn’t even know where to start.

You were his anchor.

His safe place.

And he ruined it.

He stared at the wall, fists clenched so tight they shook, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

He needed to see you.

Even if you slammed the door in his face.

Even if you spat in his mouth.

Even if you never forgave him.

He had to see you.

He pulled on the first hoodie he could find, still smelling faintly of weed and regret, and stumbled out the door into the night.

There was only one place that had ever felt like home.

Your house.

TO BE CONTINUED…?

[brainwashedkitten]

Say Something I'm Giving Up On You

Eddie Munson looked at the windows at school at the storm outside. He was thinking of how badly he wanted to get out here and go sit to sulk. He had been nervous for today, but now he just wanted to run away.

Eddie had never been that into school, not until you showed up this year. New student who didn't treat him like a different person, like a freak. You had been studying together, texting, talking, laughing, joking, sharing music, watching movies, etc. He felt like things were moving in a good direction. Then today, he overheard one of the popular jock guys talking about how well hitting on the new kid went on Saturday.

It hit him when he mentioned distinct characteristics about you. He remembered you had said you were too busy to hang out. Something about babysitting for your cousin last minute. He felt crushed. You had blown off plans with him to go to hang out with that guy. He had been looking forward to seeing you today to go over the episode you both agreed to watch separately and discuss today at lunch.

The school bell rang, and Eddie headed towards the room where he held D&D instead of the lunch room. He didn't feel like seeing you sitting with anyone else. As he headed towards the room, a teacher stopped him and insisted he had to go to the lunch room. Normally, he would fight about the school rules, allowing students to not have to be in the lunchroom, but today, he had no fight in him. Instead, he muttered an apology and turned around to go into the lunchroom.

He headed towards his usual spot. He didn't see you at the table yet, which could mean a couple of different things normally, but today, Eddie figured you were sitting with a new crowd. Eddie sat down and began to unpack his lunch. He looked around the lunchroom as he was playing with his rings. He spotted you talking to one of the cheerleaders. He decided to look away and focus on his lunch. The guys were talking about something, but we couldn't focus on anything but his heart ache.

Eddie jumped a little when you plopped down beside him. He hadn't been expecting you to come sit with him. He ignored you as he wanted back to his lunch.

"Where have you been? I have been looking for you all over!". You said as you started in on your lunch. You pulled out a sweet treat you had made and handed one to Eddie. He didnt reach out his hand for it like he normally did.

"Eddie, are you okay? I am sorry about this weekend, but we had a family emergency, and I was the only one who could watch that many kids". You said pouting and holding the treat out. "I made your favorite to apologize."

Eddie scoffed and said, "From what I heard in the locker room during gym, it sounded like you were too busy flirting with Jackson this weekend." Eddie watched your mouth drop open. He wasn't expecting what happened next as you throw the treat down and looked pissed.

"Excuse me? The only time I talked to him was when he brought his little sisters over to ask for nail polish remover." You said anger rising in your voice. "What the hell was he saying happened in the locker room that would make you believe I would want him?"

Eddie had gone silent along with the rest of the table. They were all afraid to speak, having never heard you speak in that tone before. You got up from the table, grabbed Eddie by his jacket, and dragged him over to the jocks table. You noticed the table got quiet as you got closer to it.

"Jackson, what the hell were you saying about me in the locker room earlier?" You barked. Eddie stood frozen next to you, too stunned to move. "My boyfriend Eddie said you were implying something happened this weekend. That would have been kind of hard since you were busy babysitting your little sisters and being forced to play pretty pretty princess all weekend long. My aunt has the photos your mother sent her as proof." You pulled out your phone and pulled up the proof of Jackson sitting in a tiny chair wearing makeup, fake earrings, jewlery, nail polish, a ballerina tutu, and a pair of his mom's shoes.

The guys at the table started laughing while the girls complimented his little sisters work. All except for Mary-Ann, who turned to look at her boyfriend. "Yeah, Jackson, what were you saying about the new girl?" Mary-Ann was suddenly standing next to you.

"I, um, dont remember." Jackson stumbled to get out.

"He said she looked hot in a bikini. His version of the story was that they took the kids swimming together, and they got frisky later that night after his parents got home and the kids went to bed." The words came out of all kid sitting at the next table over.

"Thank you Parker!" You said to the kid who smiled brightly. Eddie vaguely recognized him from class.

"Anytime for you." He said, turning back to his food. Eddie knew he had always liked that kid for some reason.

"I think I will enjoy speaking to my aunt and your mother today after school to fill them in on your little story. Mary-Ann, would you like to join me for some afternoon tea?" You said, turning to the head cheerleader.

"That sounds like a lovely way to spend my afternoon. It's better than listening to break up songs in my room alone. Meet you out front after school." She said, turning and heading out of the cafeteria. The other cheerleaders got up to follow her, looking disgusted.

You walked back over to your table, dragging along a still shocked Eddie. When you got back over to your lunch table and sat down, you noticed Eddie was still standing.

"Did you call me your boyfriend?" Eddie said wide grin on his face as he sat down and faced you.

"Maybe," you said, picking up your sandwich.

"Should I go run over and ask Parker what he heard? Kids got a good memory" Eddie said moving to stand up.

"Fine! Yes I called you my boyfriend. It just slipped out." You said not looking up.

Eddie sat down with a huge smile on his face. He reached over and picked up the homemade treats you made him. "Maybe we could discuss it further on a date. You still owe me for canceling this weekend." He took a big bite of his treat savoring it. "Maybe we could go swimming and get frisky after. I know a place we could go skinny dipping." He said, looking at you with his wide puppy dog eyes.

"Only if you dont mind my mind my grandpa's dog joining us. I said I would take him swimming this weekend and he doesn't care if you are naked or clothed." You said smiling back.

"Deal." Eddie said as his mood improved. "Mind sending that photo to me. I want to have t-shirts made for our yearbook photo." He asked.

"I already got it put into the yearbook. World's Best Big Brother. How do you think I got his mom to send it to my aunt? I needed an excuse. She is so proud of her little man. She also sent me photos of the rest of his friends dressed equally as cute." You said smiling.

"Remind me to bury all of my photos." Eddie said shuttering.

"Too late, Wayne already showed them to me. You were an adorable kid." You said smirking. "I have photos on everyone. I have plans for the yearbook. See you guys later!" You got up and walked away as the group pulled out their phones to ask their parents what they had sent.

First story :) just wrote it during down time at work!

@munsonsmixtapes @munson-blurbs @gaybybirth @bugism @elegantpaperoperatormaker

[brainwashedkitten]

Candy Shop Order for Anonymous - Hellfire Cinnamon Candy, Strawberry Sherbet, Bittersweet Dark Chocolate, 10

Eddie Munson x Female Reader, Angst, “What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?”

I cant seem to write angst for the life of me, so I hope this is okay

Requests now closed

Word Count: 843

*divider by @sweetmelodygraphics

It wasn’t like you were oblivious to your boyfriend’s side hustle. You were very much aware of how he came to have a little extra money to hand when he needed it. You knew that Eddie dealt to all kinds of people, turning up random houses at the request of one of the quiet meat-head jocks hoping that they were going to score a decent deal on some weed.

And you never really bothered to know about what he did and who he sold to in the back of the school in that dark forest. It wasn’t something you particularly wanted to know about, all you wished for is that he was careful.

He made his deals and that was that.

And you thought that you didn't care about his drug deals, and that had been true for a while, until all too quickly it wasn't. That was until the candy-coated princess of Hawkins high school, Chrissy Cunningham, started hanging around with your boyfriend. 

It started with her waiting outside his classes for him. The next thing you would catch her twirling her strawberry blonde curls around her finger as she trailer her hand up his leather clad arm, seemingly laughing at something he said, with her not even caring that you could see everything unfolding in front of you. It would progress to Chrissy leaning into his side in the cafeteria as they bumped trays in the lunch line. You tried not to let her high-pitched giggle get under your skin, but that girly shrill pulled the tension of your nerves to be paper thin.

You hated to compare yourself to the girl, but the creeping doubts about how you could even begin to stack up against the most popular girl in school festered at the back of your mind.

Chrissy was beautiful, petite and perfect, with glossy pink lips, bright blue eyes framed by doe-like eyelashes, a fresh flush on her rosy apple cheeks. Pastel coloured skirts and soft cardigans that made her look like a barbie doll, and on other days, a scandalously short cheerleading uniform with ribbons in her shining hair that made her look like every young boy’s fantasy pin-up girl.

The kind of girl that all the girls wanted to be like, and the kind of girl that all the guys wanted to be with.

And when you found yourself sitting in the bleachers of the football field, scribbling down the last few rushed sentences of some deadline-imminent homework you couldn’t help but let your eyes trail to the center of the field where the cheerleaders were practicing their latest routine, and there was a distinct lack of very specific blonde princess at the top of their tower.

Packing away your stuff in your bag you know immediately where you need to go. Your feet carry you from the vast open spaces of the wide open spaces of the football field to the clearing in the forest.

Just as you approach the wooden picnic table, Chrissy breezes past you, throwing a soft wink and a smiling expression of gratitude of “thanks, Eddie..” in the direction of your boyfriend.

And then, in the quiet forest behind Hawkins high school it was just you and your boyfriend stood a distance apart, with you shuddering a nervous and unsure breath.

“Is Chrissy better than me? Is Chrissy the girl who you want to be with?” you ask him, waiting on his response.

“What are you talking about?” he replies, answering your question with a question of his own, a look of confusion scrunching across his features.

“Don’t act like you were blind to how Chrissy’s been flirting with you all this time, Eddie.”

“She only came to me for a few ounces, I swear, I think she was trying to get me to sweeten the deal, but you should know it takes more than a few fluttered eyelashes to turn my head, darling.” he tells you, and suddenly you feel like the worst person in the world. Of course Eddie would never do anything to hurt you. Your kind, sweet, adorable and loving Eddie, the boy who practically worships the ground you walk on. You feel so guilty for having ever questioned his integrity when it came to loving you.

“But you could have your pick of any girl..” your crumbling self-doubt starts creeping in and makes a home, settling a heavy weight in your lungs.

“What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand? I don’t want any girl, I want you. I will always want you. I will always choose you.” he says, crossing the distance between you to wrap you in the safe hold of his arms. The scent of old leather, cigarette smoke and something so distinctly Eddie, fills your senses and warms you from inside.

Chrissy may have been the one to build up the walls of doubt in your relationship, but it was always going to be Eddie who would be there to help break them down, every single time. 

@penguinsandpringleheads @abitchyouhate @mrsjellymunson @rebelfell @sidereustales @myherometalhead @seatnights @28bohemianmoons @ali-r3n

[brainwashedkitten]

this is very self indulgent i’m so sorry i just really want eddie to hold me

the sob that wracks your body breaks eddie’s heart in real time.

“I don’t even want him back,” you sniffle. “I just can’t believe he’d treat me this way.”

he lets you slump against his tall frame, arms wrapping around you without even a second’s hesitation. his stomach roils; the thought of any man getting the honor to be yours, only to fuck it up and hurt you — it makes him ill.

“sweetheart,” he murmurs, big hands rubbing up and down your back. “I’m so sorry. he never deserved you, never,” he says seriously, ducking his chin down to try and meet your eye.

“am I that hard to love?” you cry, watery voice cracking his chest wide open. he aches for you, wants to take your now-ex boyfriend and rearrange his face with his fists a little.

“woah, hey hey hey,” he says, tipping your chin up with his index finger. “absolutely not.”

your sad wet eyes look up at him, your chin wobbling. he actually feels like he could kill for you in this moment. he’d do anything to make you understand just how perfect you actually are.

he’d do anything to be the next in line to receive the honor of being yours.

“you are so incredibly easy to love,” he continues, feeling his own voice crack with rising emotion. “he just wasn’t man enough to rise to the occasion. that has nothing, and I mean nothing, to do with you.”

you sniffle, managing a tiny little laugh amidst your tears. “you’re just bein’ nice cause you have to be,” you say, admittedly throwing yourself your own little pity party.

“no I’m not, sweetheart. I’m saying it because it’s true. loving you isn’t something I’ve ever had to think about. it jus’ comes naturally,” he says, letting the words spill out before he can really even think them through.

and sure, he could mean it in a platonic sense. except he totally means it in a ‘I’m head over heels for you and you have no idea’ sense. and he’s getting the idea that you realize that.

“eddie—” you sniff, expression softening.

“we don’t have to talk about it right now,” he interjects, understanding that you’re vulnerable. understanding that he needs to be patient.

you nod, wiping at your face with your hands. you stand up on your tip toes, catching him off guard with a tender kiss to his cheek.

and you don’t talk about it, not yet. but the air has shifted between the two of you, and you climb into bed that night knowing that you’re not hard to love. in fact, you have the best person on the planet loving you.

you fall asleep knowing you love him back. knowing that maybe it’s always been him.

[brainwashedkitten]

Eddie lets you doodle on his skin whenever you’re nervous or bored in class.

If he notices your restless legs, always bouncing under the desk, he’ll shrug his jacket off and lay his bare arm out for you. He loves seeing what you ink into his skin, most of it being silly and mindless.

Sometimes he’ll trade off with you, both of you each adding something to the doodle until it becomes the weird amalgamation of two people trying to predict what the other’s plan for the picture is.

He refuses to wash them off until he absolutely has to. I feel like when you guys inch over the line of friends who care deeply for each other to lovers who never thought they could be together, he gets one of your doodles tattooed.

Now I'm thinking about way down the line when you guys have a kid and he lets your daughter draw on him with markers. He'll get those little pictures tattooed as well. By that time he's got a nearly complete sleeve and one portion of it is just tiny children's drawings. He loves it, he loves the contrast between his other blackwork—the more metal tattoos—and the colorful scribblings of his first baby and his best girl.

Masterlist

[brainwashedkitten]

Getting high and having a sloppy makeout session with best friend!Eddie. He really tried to control himself, keep his hands above your waist, but your skin just feels so good and soft that he can’t help his hands wandering even lower.

“What are you doing?” You ask when you feel him slowly move his hands up your thighs and into your panties. Eddie being Eddie, of course he just smirks and is like “I just wanted to feel how wet you are”.

Lucky for him, you’re fucking soaked. He never thought he’d get to do this with you, he’s wanted you for years and now he’s finally going to have you. He whips your panties down, exposing your bare pussy to him and you swear you can hear him mutter about how it’s the prettiest one he’s ever seen.

“Can I taste you, please?” He asks. The weed and his touches on your pussy has rendered you too high to speak coherently so you just nod and let him slowly lick through your folds.

Before you know it, his lips are wrapped around your clit and he’s three fingers deep inside you, making you squirt all over him.