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eagerbby · 2 years ago

Text

I. AM. SCREAMING.

bartender!eddie x fem!reader Eddie’s night.

🎵my man gives real love that’s why I call him killer, he’s not a ‘wham! bam! thank you ma’am!’ he’s a thriller.🎵

summary: After being stood up on a blind date, the cute bartender you’ve been ‘trying’ not to flirt with keeps you company.

word count: 12.6k

warnings: 90’s AU / 18 + no minors! /eddie is in his early 30’s, fingering, oral (f receiving), semi public smut (p in v), cream pie, dirty talk.

authors note: my love letter to the 90’s 💕after one month of brain storming and three weeks of writing here’s part one of Whatta Man! Eddie’s night. (This is a singular one shot. Steve’s night is part two, can you find the easter eggs for his night 😉)Thank you to my very talented friends who always brain storm with me and share ideas. This fun lil AU wouldn’t have happened with you. ily 💗 edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

You didn’t want to go on this date. Not when your roommate set you up, and you certainly didn’t want to go when he picked The Foxy Lounge. But when Weather Man Mike predicted the first warm day after three months of bitter winter you’d take any excuse to wear your favorite dress.

You’d been here before, always stumbling in after a night out with friends because they were the only 4am place in town. Those late nights turned to early mornings were more of a thing of the past now so when you got to the familiar chipped red door you didn’t recognize the bouncer standing outside. He has a head of honey colored hair that’s just long enough to run his fingers through. His toned frame sits pretty wrapped in a tight black tee and long legs covered in dark wash jeans tight enough for you to really have to focus on keeping your eyes on his face. A freckle covered neck leads to a strong jaw and a chiseled nose. Leaning against the brick wall with his boots crossed at the ankles a toothpick twirls between his straight teeth.

The platform of your sneakers hitting the pavement as you come to a stop and the jingle of your power beads alerts him of your presence, hazel eyes going round like the moon in the sky. Straightening his posture he snatches the tooth pick out of his mouth, stuffing it in his back pocket. You swear you see a Tamagotchi tucked away as he clears his throat with a puff of his chest.

“I.D.?”

Your lips twitch, the forced deep baritone in his voice isn’t fooling you, and you wonder if it fooled anyone when the signature beep of a Tomogatchi pet needing to be fed goes off in his back pocket. He coughs to try to cover the noise while you quickly pull what he needs out of your cross body. Holding it out for him to examine you look up with a glossed smile matching the one in the picture. Narrowing his eyes, you catch a glimmer of playfulness when he clicks on his flashlight.

Examining it like it could be a fake, you bite back a giggle while he turns it around giving it one more once over before handing it back to you with a soft chuckle.

“Funny, we have the same birthday.” His voice comes out normal this time, soft and friendly just like you thought.

“Twins!”

A genuine smile lights up his face like the sign above your head, his boyish features coming out despite the stubble on his chin.

“Might as well call us the Olsen’s.” Throwing you a wink he pulls the gold handle to open the door for you. The sounds of Return of the Mack break through the hums of the street behind you. “Have fun tonight honey, be safe. If anyone bothers you, just come grab me okay? I’m steve.”

Your cheeks heat up at the endearment and you have to remind yourself that you’re here for a date. You catch a hint of his cologne when your shoulder brushes against his chest on your way in, the expensive scent making you dizzy when it hits your senses.

“I will, thanks Steve,”your words are shy when they come out, making his lips twitch in response. Nodding his head, you catch the tinge of pink on his skin before he closes the door with a small wave.

It's even louder inside with the drunk conversations battling for dominance against the music. Tugging nervously at the bottom of your dress you look around the bar for the vague description of this guy Craig your friend gave you.

You scan the crowd a few times before your eyes catch the big brown ones of the bartender. The stool in front of him freeing itself at the same time your eyes connect, the corners of his plush lips pull up as he beckons you over with two heavily ringed fingers. The unruly dark auburn curls that hit just below his shoulders catch the low light behind the bar, the yellow glow softening up all his edges.

Rocking back on your heels you pull the strap of your cross body closer, doing your best to collect yourself before you push through the crowd accepting his invitation. His smile widens, pulling up his stubble covered cheeks to reveal a set of perfect white teeth to you. The one you give him in return comes out a little shy as you plop down on the ripped vinyl that matches the red of the door.

Ink litters his arms disappearing under the frayed ends of his sleeves letting you know there was more under the tight fit of his worn faded black Metallica shirt. The two rips near the collar give you a glimpse of the chain wrapped around his neck. The scruff lining his jaw adds a few years from afar but from this close he looks your age. The silver hoop in his nose catches against the bright lighting under the bar like the rings adoring his fingers. Pulling out two empty shot glasses with a twirl he quickly fills them up with Jameson.

“This one’s on the house sweetheat, it’ll help make your date cuter.” He winks with a sly grin, your stomach flutters with his full attention on you like this.

The glass is heavy in your grasp as you stare at the dark liquid with a faint grimace. His low chuckle catches your attention before the pop and hiss of the soda fills your ears. As if reading your mind he slides over a coke, letting you keep your pride by not having to ask for a chaser.

“How do you know I’m here for a date?” Raising a questioning brow, the sides of your lips twitch as you struggle to hold a straight face. “A girl can’t come to the bar alone on a Friday night?”

The chocolate in his eyes lights up at your playful banter, slinging a white towel over his shoulder he leans in, forearms pressing hard against the counter as he invades your space. The spice of his cologne and the burn of cigarette smoke joins with him and you find yourself sucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Are you telling me you’re available then?” Dropping his voice low enough to feel between your legs, you wished more than anything you had a different answer to give him.

The heaviness of his gaze has your cheeks warming, the intensity of the eye contact forcing your gaze away for a second as you clear your throat. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear you muster enough courage to meet his eyes again.

“N-no unfortunately, you were right.” Exaggerating a heavy sigh, his confident demeanor never wavers despite his confirmed suspicions.

“Unfortunately is right, huh?” Winking, he pushes back leaving only the lingering scent of his cologne raising his shot in an offering of cheers. “To what could have been, baby.”

A giggle bubbles past your lips when his fingers brush against yours meeting in the middle with a clink. Downing his shot like a professional, he’s left to watch the way you struggle with yours. Amusement is evident on his face while he watches the way your throat stays unwilling to open. Holding the alcohol in your mouth longer than anyone would want, it finally gives in letting the bitter liquid go down with a bite. Pushing the can of coke towards you with his knuckles, his laugh booms loud from his chest as you search for reprieve in the sweetness with desperation.

Chugging with abandon, you forget your surroundings for a second before your eyes meet his over the rim of the can and it’s almost enough to have you snort the rest of it all over yourself.

Coming up for air you grumble a half assed “shut up” doing your best to try and fight the smile begging to spread across your lips as you wipe them with the back of your hand.

“Not a whiskey girl I take it?” Punctuating the ‘t’ harder than normal, his teasing falls on deaf ears when you get distracted at the way his thick fingers wrap around the shot glasses.

“Not a shot girl in general, I’d rather not taste the alcohol if I can help it.” Shrugging, you trace invisible patterns on the sticky quartz of the bar top with french tipped nails silently reminding yourself for the second time tonight you’re here for a date.

“So how’d you two meet?” He raises his voice so it comes out sickly sweet while a shaker and a lemon appears in his hands. Setting them down on top of the worn jagermeister logo that covers the drink mat he starts rolling the fruit against his palm.

“We haven’t met yet actually, a friend set us up.”

Eddie’s movements freeze for a second, eyebrows furrowing together in a look of confusion as if that was the craziest thing that anyone had ever told him. He grabs the bottle of simple syrup adding more to what looked like it was going to be a sweet drink before he answers.

“Someone like you shouldn’t need to be set up, sweetheart.” He looks up at you from under the hood of his lashes quickly picking up on the effect he has on you.

He twirls another empty glass onto the counter top before he smashes the lid of the shaker on, not giving you a chance to respond he starts shaking it louder than you know is necessary. The bats tattooed on his arm dance across the muscles with the flex of every flick of his wrist.

“Really? Laying it on thick, huh?” Raising your voice enough to know he could hear you, he taunts you by cupping his free hand over his ear to make a show of pretending he can’t, mouthing a ‘sorry’ with a smirk. The laugh he earns from when he finally relents is the prettiest sound he thinks he’s ever heard.

“Well I hope this ‘friend’ has a good vetting process. No less than three interviews or no dice.” He pours your drink with panache, like he’s putting on a show for you, like you’re sure he does with all the other girls.

Grabbing a straw he plugs one end with his index finger before he dips it into the slightly lighter liquid. The heat between your legs becomes almost unbearable when his lips wrap around the end tasting his creation with a low groan, his pink tongue pokes out to collect the sweetness left behind.

“I think, I think you’re gonna like this one. It’s an Eddie Munson original, I’m calling it "Wasting Love.” The roll of your eyes makes him bark out another laugh. The signs of the smoke you smell on him are more noticeable in this one’s rumble.

“I wonder what could have inspired it?” Biting your lip to hide your smile, you knew you shouldn’t be flirting with him while you waited for Craig, but you can’t help yourself. Besides, he was already ten minutes late.

“I think you know what inspired it sweetheart, I can tell you’re not just some pretty face.” Dimples poking through his cheeks, he finally takes notice of the glares from the customers filling up the bar. Everyone’s patience starting to wear thin while they waited for whatever this was to be over.

“I gotta stop ignoring all the other people in here real quick, but I’ll be back for your review.” He throws you another wink and it has you shifting in your seat as he starts to walk away.

“Wait! I never opened a tab!” Calling after him as you reach for your purse, he tuts loudly, turning around to face you, continuing his path walking backwards.

“You shouldn’t be paying for a thing tonight, gorgeous.” He waves his hand dismissively before his back is to you again giving his undivided attention to the bearded man who looked ready to murder the carefree metal head if he didn’t get his Bud Light in the next five seconds.

Trying not to get too caught up in someone that wasn’t your date you timidly bring the straw to your lips. Humming appreciatively when the sweetness hits your tastebuds you’re pleasantly surprised at how much you actually like it. Feeling bold enough to take a bigger gulp, you look around for Craig again. So lost in the little bubble you had been in with Eddie you didn’t realize how much more the bar had filled up since you arrived. A new kind of rowdy energy in the air — the low murmurs of conversation get loud enough to drown out Semi- Charmed Kinda Life.

Glancing down at your pink swatch watch, your date was now twenty minutes late. Turning around to check and make sure the lavender cross body you told him to look for was visible, you crane your neck around looking one last time. It’s easy to shrug off the sinking feeling of rejection when you turn back around to watch Eddie in his natural habitat.

He moves behind the bar like he’s been doing it his whole life, like everything was muscle memory. As if he could feel you staring he catches your gaze throwing you a smirk before he tosses a bottle of tequila in the air catching it with ease. Pouring it into four lined up shot glasses, the group of girls in front of him celebrating what looked like a bachelorette party with all their multi-colored hats and boas squealed with drunk delight. Your eyes hit the back of your skull in a hard roll when one of them bats their eyelashes at him with a hand on his arm.

Sucking down the rest of your drink, the slurping once you hit the ice is loud enough to annoy the guy next to you who shoots you a warning look over his shoulder. Mouthing an apology you push your empty glass away looking around the bar one more time. The guilt of flirting with Eddie starts to disappear when you look at your watch again and start coming to terms you were actually being stood up. Searching for his doe eyes again, your heart sinks when you find him this time.

Dimples in his cheeks again, he’s practically beaming at her. Their body language telling you this isn’t their first time meeting and how animated he is when he talks to her is like he’s known her for years. Gesturing wildly with his hands while she nods enthusiastically, something he says has her throwing her head back with a laugh loud enough you can hear it over the music. You huff through your nose, the sting of rejection sneaking its way back in. The reminder that he was just doing his job and you were here for a date, one that never showed up, slaps you right in the face.

Averting your gaze to spare whatever confidence you have left, your eyes find the bouncer at the front door. Inside the bar now with a hard glare set on his handsome face. His arms sit folded across his broad chest while his jaw clenches at the same time as the muscles in his shoulders flex. Steve looks pissed.

Interest piqued, you follow his line of sight despite it going in the direction of the bar you were trying to avoid. Somehow not surprised when your eyes land on her again, you notice Eddie has already busied himself with someone else. With his back towards both of you he fills two pints with Blue Moon, the uncomfortable look on her face couldn’t be missed. The greasy blonde hair on the man that was clearly invading her personal space told you he’d been drinking all day. The grimace on her pretty face says she could smell it on his breath too.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end when you see him grab onto her arm while trying to whisper in her ear. You feel yourself ready to stand up and help when she pushes him away, with the way the veins in her neck were flexing whatever she was saying to him wasn't nice. Shoving her hand in his face she storms towards the front door where Steve is waiting, looking seconds away from killing the man who followed her path out of the bar with a leer.

The scowl on her face softens instantly when she’s met with Steve opening the door, the glare on his face being replaced with a deep flush when you catch a “Thanks, Stevie” fall appreciatively from her lips.

SMACK

Jumping at the sound of metal hitting wood, Eddie’s dimples show themselves only this time they are for you as he leans forward on his arms again, eyes flicking towards the spot next to you. He pulls himself even closer when he notices no one new occupying the stool, making you search for friction with the fat of your thighs.

“Penny for your thoughts, beautiful?” Flashing you his perfect teeth for the second time tonight the bruise to your ego already starts to disappear.

“I drank it without gagging, didn’t I?” Crossing your arms on top of the bar it's your turn to lean into his space and you swear you hear his breath hitch at your new boldness.

Licking his lips, your eyes greedily follow the path of his tongue. His smile stretches across his face even more when he notices, making no effort to move- unwilling to back down from the silent standoff you’ve challenged him too.

“‘I’ll have you know I take that as a very high compliment coming from you.” His breath fans across your cheeks from this close, mint and whiskey hitting your nose when he huffs a laugh. “Where’s Prince Charming?”

“Turns out there was no Prince, just an ugly old toad.” Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you look up at him through half lidded eyes, “Good thing I didn’t kiss him, huh?”

A low rumble shakes in his chest as he dares to lean in even closer, the tips of your noses almost brushing while the bubble you’d lost yourselves in reappears.

“Yeah baby, you can’t give those out to just anybody, they gotta be for someone special.” His voice is low, dripping with the kind of want you’d never had directed at you before. His eyes take in every inch of your face from this close while you try to keep up with his smooth tongue.

“Got anyone in mind, Eddie?” Doing your best to match his tone, his brows pinch together at the way his name sounds coming out of your mouth taking one last look at your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah, I know a guy actually. He’s a bartender with a great head of hair.” Wiggling his eyebrows when you snort, the front door swings open, breaking you two apart as the girl from before commands the room like a record scratch, silencing the bar for the first time all night.

“Eddie! It’s bad, Steve needs you!” The sheer panic in her voice is enough for the jealous monster inside you to stay at bay as Eddie pushes back on his heels.

An irritated sigh escapes him while he mutters ‘not a-fucking-gain’ under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose before his eyes find yours. You jump a little when he grabs your hands, the warmth of his palms enveloping yours while he gives you a pleading look.

“Don’t - I mean, please don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back, I need to go save my buddy’s ass again. But I promise I’ll be right back, this conversation is too important to leave unfinished.” He flashes you that million dollar smile like chaos isn’t ensuing outside and all you can do is nod, signaling that you’ll stay put.

Hopping over the bar his loose fitting combat boots squeak over the counter top, the black jeans that were hidden from your sight somehow fit him even better than his shirt. Your gaze is shamelessly hungry as it follows him until he’s out the door. The scuffle outside leaking through the music with a blur of bodies outside.

Too focused on the glimpse of Eddie’s towering frame stepping between the two guys to break up the fight, you don’t notice the person who walks through the unattended door until it shuts behind him with a thud. Ready to glare at whoever it is your eyes widen when you meet the ones belonging to who you can only assume is Craig. The burnt auburn hair he sports and the way he zero’s in on your purse confirms your suspicions. This was Craig, you're incredibly late and not even remotely as attractive as the bartender, date.

“Shit, shit, shit.” No matter how quickly you averted your stare, you knew it was too late, he saw you. Panic sets in while your brain goes a mile a minute trying to think a way out of this.

Looking around the bar for some sort of escape, the thought of ducking into the bathroom sounds like a winner but then the image of Eddie coming back and seeing you gone seeps into the forefront of your mind making you quickly toss that idea out the window. Turning to the people on either side of you who are too lost in their own conversations to notice your dilemma, you try to decide which one you could interrupt the most naturally.

The couple on your right looks like they’re on a date going really well and the one on your left seems like two friends catching up. The tap on your shoulder is enough for you to make a split second decision, clearing your throat you spare the newly blossoming romance next you from your desperate antics, choosing to interrupt the friends who are reconnecting with a loud fake laugh.

“That’s when she told me- um excuse me do I know you?” Gruff and confused, the man closest to you looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads. First your loud slurping and now this? This plan was never going to work from the get-go.

Another persistent tap on your shoulder has you grasping for straws. You open your mouth to try to sell whatever this was one last time.

“Umm excuse me?” Craig’s voice comes out loud enough to cut you off and for the poor guy next to you to give you the final cold shoulder. Unable to ignore him any longer, you force yourself to turn around and face him head on. Kind of.

Channeling your inner Alicia Silverstone you try to give him the best Clueless look you can muster and he returns it with an even more confused expression, clearing his throat.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. I’m Craig, Ariana’s friend. I think I’m supposed to be meeting you?” Shoving his hands in the pockets of his tan slacks, the maroon sweater he wears fits loosely over his thin frame, dirty black chucks on his feet, his look screams ‘I listen to Nirvana’.

“Umm, I think you have the wrong person? I wasn’t supposed to be meeting anyone here tonight.” It’s not believable in the slightest when the words leave your mouth, your less than confident delivery giving you away. The look on his face lets you know you’ve definitely been made

“Are you sure? I was told to look for the girl with a lavender purse.” As if to prove his point he points to the exact one he’s talking about slung across your shoulder. He scoffs when you keep up with your charade, “I know I’m late but this is ridiculous.”

“A lot of girls have purple bags, Craig.” His name comes out dripping in venom, the need to get rid of him before Eddie’s return throwing any logic out the window. You needed to believe your own lie.

The sudden harshness has him raising his hands in defense, backing down a little under the daggers of your glare.

“Whoa, chill out, my bad. You just match the exact description I was given, that's all.”

Clenching your jaw in frustration because he just won’t give up, you try to hold your composure while your eyes flick towards the door in anticipation for his return.

“Well you’ve told me you were late twice already so she probably just left. Rude of you to keep her waiting honestly.” Narrowing your eyes at him, you know that he’s aware of exactly what you are doing but you don’t care anymore.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what happened, and not her being bitter I’m one measly hour late.” The way his words clip signal the rejection sinking in, a glare setting firm on his face.

It’s the stare down of the century before Eddie comes barging through the entrance with a loud huff and a clap of his hands. Cheeks red from yelling and hair slightly more wild than before. He checks to make sure you’re still exactly where he left you before he glances over to Craig for a split second not registering who he is. Hopping over the bar with another skid of his boots, he still manages to give you a lopsided grin when he gets to the other side. Hitting the top of the bar in a series of beats - he’s a ball of energy.

“Sorry to keep you waiting sweetheart, Steve’s lucky the girl he took a knuckle sandwich for has a first aid kit. Rick keeps saying he’s gonna get one but I have yet to see it. Want another cocktail?” Talking a mile a minute with the leftover adrenaline from the fight, he still doesn’t notice the way Craig watches the two of you until he catches how awkward you’re being. Eddie’s face hardens, the softness he was giving you disappearing. “Something I can help you with buddy?”

You don’t even have to look at Craig to know he’s puffing out his chest with a point of his chin addressing Eddie.

“Actually pal, maybe you can.” His tone makes Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, a tested smile spreading over his lips while he lets Craig continue. “I was supposed to meet someone here for a blind date, I was told to look for a girl with a lavender purse exactly like this one. You haven't seen another girl with this exact same bag have you?”

Eddie’s wide eyes meet yours, amusement filling the specks of golden brown as he picks up on exactly what’s happening. The corners of his lips twitch before he nods his head licking his bottom lip holding your gaze long enough to make you squirm before bringing his attention back to Craig with a low whistle.

“Oh yeah, I remember that hottie, man. It’s a shame you were late, she took off with this dude she met waiting for you. She didn’t stand a chance, though, honestly. I know the guy, he’s too smooth for his own good. Pretty good looking too. Can’t be leaving your girl unattended around him. Probably wouldn’t have worked out between you two anyway.” Eddie catches the roll of your eyes at his self indulgent story as you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand to hide your face splitting grin.

“Why don’t you walk away with some dignity. What’s that saying? There’s always more fish in the sea or some shit.” Eddie adds more salt to the wound, finally breaking Craig enough to give up.

“Whatever you say man, this bar is fuckin’ lame anyway. Who wants to drink to Third Eye Blind.” Grumbling his insults as he slinks away, he takes one last look at you and Eddie before his final exit with a flip of his middle finger.

Eddie’s stare is hot on your face, while you bashfully avoid his gaze keeping your eyes lingering on the door. When you finally dare to meet his eyes the shit eating grin on his face makes you groan, the buzz of your drink pulling a giggle out of you.

“Eddie, don’t —“

“Well, well, aren’t you just a little heartbreaker, huh?” His teasing only makes your cheeks grow hotter as you try to hide your face from his view.

“Don’t you need to go attend to all the customers you left?” Your words come out muffled from behind your hands as you slowly pull them down just enough to uncover the fake glare you were sending his way.

“I’ve got my favorite one right here.” Voice dropping low with a smirk, he was right, you didn’t stand a chance.

“I haven’t paid for a single thing, you refused my money if you remember.” Bringing your hands down to fully come out of hiding, he bites his bottom lip when he can take in your features again.

“It’s no good here, baby, I could actually get arrested if I take it and then how would I be able to take you out to get pancakes after my shift if I’m behind bars?” Bringing his hands together in mock shackles and a pout, the chain wrapped around his wrist catches your eyes for the first time.

“You’re takin’ me to get pancakes?” Flirting like a love sick teenager, you even start to kick your feet under the bar.

“It’s the least I can do since you’re my fill in bouncer for the rest of the night.” Smirking, he nods his head to the man at the opposite end of the bar flagging him down with a twenty dollar bill. His eyes sparkling with something new now that he had you.

“Me? A Bouncer? I’m not intimidating in the slightest!” Your cheeks hurt from how hard you smile at his retreating form, the game of ‘playing hard to get’ becoming a thing of the past now.

“Sorry, you owe me, heartbreaker.” He shrugs like it’s out of his control before flashing you the same lopsided grin leaving you a mess of nerves from getting to spend the night with him.

The hours till close go by faster than you anticipate with Eddie topping off your drink any time you ask, the buzz from the alcohol is just enough to handle the growing intensity of his flirting. Now that the only obstacle in the way of each other was time, he was relentless.

Enjoying the game of chicken the two of you had started unconsciously playing, you stop noticing the clock. Every six customers earns you five —sometimes ten minutes of his time and he makes sure to use every second of those breaks as an excuse to lean in close, whispering in your ear, holding your face close every time you talk. He was getting off on the way he could make you shift in your seat and hide your bottom lip between your teeth when he got close enough for his lips to brush against your ear. Your fingers find excuses to wrap around his wrist when he invades your space, playing with his chain, you keep him close making sure to tilt your head just enough for him to catch a glimpse down your neck into the low cut of your dress.

The small hand on the clock above the door hits the three and it’s not until his breaks start getting longer and your touches are able to get a little bolder that you notice the murmur of voices over the music disappears. The few stranglers left sipping their last drinks of the evening are paying the two of you no mind despite the way he’s tucking your hair out of his way to trace the shell of your ear with the tip of his nose.

The realization that you’re finally about to be alone with him brings your nerves to a head and the need to check yourself over in the bathroom mirror becomes urgent. The flick of his tongue along your earlobe distracts you for a second as your head nudges against his when it tickles making a giggle slip past your lips.

“I gotta go to the bathroom, Eddie.” You inhale the scent of pine lingering in his shampoo, giving him one last nudge with your nose before hopping off the stool. He gives you his best puppy eyes as you get up to leave, pushing out his bottom lip when you tug your dress down.

“Please, I’ll be like three minutes.” You roll your eyes at him but the smile that lights up your face tells him you’re eating it up.

“I’ll be counting every second you're gone, baby.” Holding his hands over his heart for dramatic effect the man at the end of the bar snorts loudly ruining the moment. He earns an annoyed glare from the bartender, “Better hurry up and finish that shit old man, it’s closing time.”

You hear him grunt in response to Eddie’s rude reminder before disappearing into the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. Stickers and writing with permanent marker cover every inch of the dark crimson walls. The doors of the black stalls barely hang from their hinges, dents from many reckless drunk nights at The Foxy Lounge punch random spots into the metal. The bottom of your sneakers stick to the floor with every step to the mirror where more stickers and black scribbles line the surface including a girl named Leigh’s phone number with the note ‘for a good time call’ attached at the end leaving just enough room to see your face.

The space buns on top of your head are messy from Eddie nuzzling his beard into your hair all night. You try to salvage what was left of them by tightening the knots a little more before deciding it's a lost cause. He was probably just going to mess them up more anyway. The thought of Eddie’s hands being free to touch you in every way you’ve wanted all night has you taking a deep breath while you hold your own eyes in the mirror.

“It’s happening, you’re gonna have sex with him. You’re gonna fuck the super hot bartender who flirts like it’s his second language tonight and you’re gonna be confident about it okay? You hear me?” Pointing to yourself in the mirror, the determination in your stare is enough for your tipsy pep talk to work its magic.

Taking one last look at yourself with a nod of your head you pull open the bathroom door ready to take on the rest of the night. Only to stop in your tracks when you notice the stool that was occupied is now empty and every inch of Eddie is also in full view from where he stands in front of the jukebox. Your eyes are insatiable taking in his tall frame like this for the first time all night.

You notice the giant chain that hangs from his belt loop this time, and there’s even more rips in his jeans than before giving you a peek at the pale skin hidden underneath. His shoulder blades move under the thin fabric of his shirt when he clicks his choice on the machine. Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer spills out from the speakers of the bar as he turns on his heels, the smirk that plays on his lips dares you to catch the hint with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Very subtle.” Crossing your arms as if to act immune to his charms, you know he sees right through your facade but he plays along anyway raising his big hands up in the air in mock surrender.

“It’s just one of my favorite songs, I don’t know what kinda ideas you got going on in that pretty little head of yours.” He takes a few more steps towards you slowly closing the gap, daring to be closer to you than he had been all night without a wooden bar separating you.

“Interesting, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Sixpence fan.” Raising your eyebrow, you have to look up at him when he finally takes the last few steps to stand in front of you.

“Why? Cause I’m such a tough guy?” His grin grows wider when he looks down at you catching the roll of your eyes while you uncross your arms opening your body up to him with a laugh.

“I can’t stand you.” Your swat is flirtatious with your palm hitting his chest. He’s quick to catch it, using your hand as leverage to pull you closer, biting back his groan when a breathy gasp slips past your lips when he tucks you into chest. First your giggle and now this? He just knew you were going to sound so pretty falling apart for him.

“I think Craig would call that bluff sweetheart.” He gives you a minute to let his words sink in, throwing his head back with a loud laugh when you huff at him embarrassed. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing. He needed to be dumped, a girl like you deserves someone that's gonna show up when they’re supposed to.”

The sweetness of his words has you melt against him, the playful pull from before surrendering to his touch and you swear there’s hearts in your eyes from the way he looks down at you after saying something like that.

“Thanks for tonight Eddie,” your voice is small when it comes out laced with adoration, and it’s his turn to get bashful making your favorite dimples come out again.

“No problem sweetheart, honestly it’s my fuckin’ lucky night.” Pulling your knuckles to his lips, he places a gentle kiss to the skin stretched over them before letting your hand drop, noting the disappointment on your face that you’re quick to cover up.

“Wanna get some fresh air while I smoke before I close this place down?”

——

Eddie somehow looks even better under the twinkling stars and pink fluorescent lights of The Foxy Lounge sign. The low hum of the electricity filling your ears as you lean against the brick of the building. His eyes are brighter out here, catching them with your own when he looks at you over the end of his cigarette.

He winks when you meet his pointed gaze, the flame of his lighter casting shadows that dance across the strong lines of his jaw, the orange glow highlighting the stubble that covers it. Batting your lashes at him, you push your hips off the wall playfully while he keeps his eyes on you through his entire first drag, only breaking contact for the split second he needs to blow the smoke he inhaled away from you.

“Don’t look at me like that.” His words come out like a warning before he takes another hit.

“How am I looking at you Eddie?” Biting your lip to hide your smile, you make sure to say his name extra sweet just how you figured out he likes. He shakes his head with a low chuckle blowing more smoke into the clear night sky.

Despite only taking two drags, he flicks the barely smoked cigarette to the side before closing the distance with a few steps leaving him crowding you against the building. Your chest brushes against his with every shallow breath. Getting lost in the darkening amber inside his eyes, the calloused tips of his fingers catch against the soft skin of your chin. The pad of his thumb pulling the velvet of your bottom lip from between your teeth.

“Like you want me to kiss you.”

Ducking his head down he nudges your nose with his, the heat of his breath fanning against your open mouth. His eyes go from yours back down to your glossed lips silently begging for your permission.

“I think it was you that was hinting at kissing me earlier.” Pushing up on your tiptoes, you smile against him when your lips just barely touch.

“Oh? You think that’s what I was doing hmm?” Asking the question he already knows the answer to, his tongue licks against your top lip as your hands find the material of his shirt, fisting as much of it as you can before yanking him down to collect his lips with an eager mouth, giving up winning whatever game this was.

You swallow his moan when your tongues meet in the middle battling for dominance, teeth scraping, you taste the few puffs of tobacco still lingering on his taste buds as his muscle massages against yours. Sliding his knee between your thighs, he smiles smug into the kiss when your hips search for friction against the denim.

He breaks away from your mouth long enough to start trailing wet kisses down your jaw, the rough hair on his chin rubbing your skin raw as he starts nipping and sucking bruises along your neck. Biting hard enough at your pulse point to have to soothe it with his tongue after the mewls he pulls from you are enough to drive him insane.

Your fingers tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck, giving his roots a pull while you turn your head, opening more of yourself to him. Taking your silent invitation he nips at the dip of your collar bone before lifting his head to press his forehead to yours.

“I gotta close up baby, but then…”rubbing his hands up your curves with a low groan he squeezes at the plush of your hips before finishing his sentence, “I think I promised you pancakes.”

Nodding your head because words are stuck at the tip of your tongue, he grabs your cheeks with a strong grip, smushing your lips together before stealing one last kiss.

——-

Eddie doesn’t give you the attention you’ve grown accustomed to all night when he starts the process of actually cleaning the bar. Your body still buzzes like a live wire from the drinks and the kiss outside. He’d been counting his tips with his back to you for the last ten minutes and you were growing impatient for more of him. You needed it.

Counting the last bill he finally turns around and your thighs press together when you get to see his face again. Shifting in your seat when his eyes barely meet yours, he makes his way to the other end of the bar. Pushing yourself up to lean forward with puckered lips, he ignores your advances passing by without so much as a glance in your direction. Huffing when you plop back in your seat, he flips the knob starting to wash his hands in the mini sink with his back to you again. Your foot taps against the metal of the stool as you watch him grab the scratched up red bucket hanging below and a fresh rag quickly replacing his hands with it to fill up.

You wonder if he can feel your stare when he adds the soap, taking his time while he spins the rag in the steaming water, he starts ringing it out. Arms flexing and suds spilling over his knuckles, you were gonna lose your mind if you didn’t get your hands on him soon.

He makes big swipes as he starts working his way towards you, keeping his eyes so focused on his task you’d think you were invisible if it wasn’t for the smirk that was getting impossible for him to hide. It only grows bigger when he stops in front of you, adding a low hum to his charade purposely wiping around the outline of your hands that were splayed out on the counter ready to push yourself up again.

“Eddie - c’mon!”

You’d be embarrassed if it wasn’t for the laugh that falls easy from his chest when he finally looks at you. His face softens and his eyes darken when he catches your angry pout, your fingers are quick to find his free ones making him tsk at you but he doesn’t pull away.

“My hands are wet baby.” He knew you didn’t care and the teeth showing in his wide grin told you he didn’t either.

Giving into your persistence like it hasn’t been a fight to keep his hands to himself this whole time, he leans forward brushing his nose with yours before nudging it against your cheek so your lips just barely touch. When you go to close the space he pulls back just enough to tease, a small whine escaping you at his games.

“What’s got you so needy, huh?” His words are whispered as he presses with the slightest pressure before pulling back again. “I didn’t kiss you good enough outside, you need more?”

“Please.” Your cheeks burn when you hear how your voice sounds, but his grip on your fingers tighten and a low moan breaks through his front at how desperate you sound just for a kiss.

“Gotta give my girl what she needs.” Your brain gets stuck on the words ‘my girl’ taking you a minute to realize he was finally giving you what you want.

It’s slower than outside, he’s taking his time with you this time. Untangling his fingers from yours, his hand comes up to wrap around the side of your neck. The water feels good on your skin as the pad of his thumb starts rubbing soft lines under your jaw while his tongue swipes at your bottom lip looking for more. You don’t give into his advances on purpose, keeping your mouth closed to get him back for all his teasing you feel his smile grow against your own.

Expecting him to stop and surrender, he only doubles down. Catching your top lip with his bottom, he pulls away just enough for you to open your eyes. God, you wished you kept them closed. The brightness from outside had turned them into nothing but black leaving no trace of the specks of brown from before. The knowledge that he was just as affected by all of this as you sends you reeling. Toes curling inside your sneakers.

“Whining over here for me to give you what you want, and here I am baby, and you’re playing hard to get.” Nipping at your bottom lip he meets your heavy lidded gaze again, “Gonna let me give you what you want?”

He barely lets you finish nodding before he’s on you, the hunger from outside coming back as he leans over the bar to deepen the kiss like you’d been begging him for. Opening your mouth for him without hesitation when he asks for permission again your tongues meet lazily, exploring each other like you didn’t get a chance to before. Pushing up again eager to get more of him he pulls back leaving you breathless with spit slick lips.

Despite the way his chest heaves trying to catch his breath, he does his best to play it cool, smirking when you have no shame chasing for more.

“I gotta finish closing up.” He gives you one more chaste kiss before he starts wiping the rest of the counter down.

Jutting out your bottom lip into a pout, he laughs, throwing out a ‘you’ll survive five minutes baby.’

You leave him alone doing your best not to distract him, despite how much your fingers itch to have him close again. Grabbing the money from the register and the receipts for the night he disappears back into what you could only assume was Rick’s office. When he pops back out he looks a little more relaxed.

“Just gotta wipe the bottles down and then I’m getting the prettiest girl the best pancakes in town.” Clapping his hands together with a rub of his palms, he grabs another rag.

You were starting to hate pancakes. Not that you didn’t want them, you just wanted him more.

“Hey Eddie?” Trying to hide your ulterior motives in the sweetness of your voice, his eyes meet yours almost instantly and they narrow just as quick.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Setting the rag down he leans forward with his palms on the bar he gives you his undivided attention. An intimidation tactic. Unable to help yourself, your eyes trace up the ink covering his arms.

“Teach me how to make that drink?” Looking up at him from under your lashes, you see something flash across his face, fingertips digging into the countertop after the question leaves your mouth.

“Wasting Love?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t call it that now, would you?” Laying it on thick, a slow smile spreads across his face. He saw what you were doing and he was going to fall into your trap willingly.

“Why don’t you come back here then, we’ll make our own.” His voice comes out low, his pupils taking over all the brown, pretty white teeth baring themselves at you.

His gaze is predatory when he watches you jump from the stool, the exaggerated sway of your hips keeps his eyes trained on the curve of your waist as you make your way into his space for the first time all night. Leaning against the back counter, his legs are spread wide leaving little to the imagination on how worked up you had him. His eyebrows raise when he sees the automatic press of your thighs at the sight. It wasn’t fair, you were trying to seduce him, not the other way around. He wasn’t even trying.

As if on cue the jukebox that had been left to play all night clicks, Ginuwine’s Pony pouring out of the speakers as he licks his lips unashamed at the way he’s drinking all of you in like this.

“Gonna teach me how to make something sweet, Eddie?” Trailing a finger along the bar while you close the distance, you drag out the ‘e’ at the end of his name just enough to get him to groan.

His hands grab your waist squeezing just hard enough to feel his strength before using it to pull you flush against him. The material of your dress doing nothing to hide how hard he is pressed into your ass. His lips trace the shell of your ear, the heat of his breath tickling your neck as you push back into him searching for more. The stubble on his face rubs rough against the soft skin of your cheek as he punctuates each word with a roll of his hips.

“The sweetest, baby.”

You bite back your moan when his nose trails up your neck, his lips just barely grazing the warmth of your flesh before they settle back against your ear. You hold onto the wood of the bar in front of you when he hums low, feeling it deep in your core. His calloused fingers start a path up the bare skin of your thigh hiking up your dress when they catch the hem.

“Tell me,” your eyes close when his nose is pressed to your temple as he speaks, “Do you like cherries, baby?” His tongue catches your earlobe sucking it into his mouth, grazing it between his teeth when he lets it back out.

Your knees almost buckle at how good everything feels, the slow rock of his hips never stopping as he plucks at the lace trim of your underwear.

“Y- yeah, I love cherries,” you whimper when his palms lay flat on the outside of your thighs, the cool metal of his rings biting into your skin when he squeezes at the fat working his way back up.

“Of course you do, pretty.” His thumbs hook the sides of your underwear, “You’re just so sweet all the time, huh?” Despite the need for friction, you spread your legs for him wondering if he can hear the way your lips pull apart sticky, arousal coating the inside of your thighs.

He chuckles soft in your ear praising you with a ‘so sweet’ before giving them a tug, letting the red lace fall to the floor. Keeping his hands on your hips, he presses himself against you hard enough to have the heels of your sneakers pick up off the ground. A low ‘fuck’ slipping out from under his breath when you whine a little.

“Red lace? Was Kurt gonna get lucky or was this just a ploy to get me all along, sweetheart?” Your cheeks burn at his question, his low chuckle tickling your ear when he hears you huff out an annoyed breath. “‘Cause if that’s the case all you would’ve had to do is walk through that door on any given night.”

He grinds himself against you one more time, but you can really feel him this time and it makes your legs shake.

“Are we gonna make this drink or do you wanna keep talking about Craig?” The shake of your voice doesn’t go unnoticed despite trying to be sharp with him but the grip on your waist still tightens at the mention of the other man’s name

“Sure we can, if that’s really what you wanna do.” His words taunt you but with one hand holding you against him the other flips a clean cocktail glass onto the bar top with ease, like he wasn’t rock hard digging into your back.

Reaching around, his hand trails up the front of your thigh sending goosebumps across your heated skin. A shiver runs down your spine when he dares to dip between your legs inching his way towards where you want him most.

“We better not mix liquors so why don’t you be a good girl and grab the whiskey for me.” His lips brush against your ear with every word, his hand never faltering on their path even when his fingertips meet your slick folds. Feather light, he traces along your slit, not daring to break the barrier yet. Brain hazy with want you don’t even comprehend what bottle you reach for, blindly grabbing for whatever was in front of you.

“That is tequila, sweetheart. Tsk, tsk, tsk are you even listening to what I’m saying? Or are you too…” Before he finishes his sentence he pushes his index finger past your entrance, your warm walls wrapping tight around his digit, “…distracted?”

Your head lulls back against his chest, your eyes closing when he pushes two knuckles deeper. Your needy whimper makes him kick up again making you grind your ass against him in response. Licking your lips, you try to collect yourself only chasing for more of his finger once.

“N-no, I can do it.” Determined to prove him wrong, you focus just long enough to grab the Jameson bottle, “What’s next?”

He hums in approval while his smile grows against your skin. Deciding to indulge in your stubborn game still, he curves his finger enough just to make you gasp his name.

“Are we keeping this simple, or do you want something a little more—” Adding a second finger, you stretch easily for him now, dripping down his hand, “Complicated?”

You shudder, a moan slipping past your lips while your grip on the bottle tightens so much you're scared it’ll shatter. Fuck, you gotta keep it …

“S- simple - oh.” His thumb finds your clit applying just enough pressure to have your mouth fall open and your brows to knit together, and just as quick as he’s there, he’s gone.

Pulling himself free, he tries his best to ignore the way your pussy tries to suck him back in, your body begging him for more. You whimper at the loss, your eyes opening to remind you where you are.

“I’m gonna need both hands to do this, baby.” His fingers shine with your slick when he wiggles them for show, stepping back just enough for you to see the grin on his face but not enough to get out of your personal space.

Grabbing his wrist, his eyes go dark when he realizes what you’re about to do. Gaze turning half lidded when your mouth opens, huffing out a deep breath when your tongue flattens against the pads of the two fingers that were just buried inside of you. Wrapping your lips around them, your arousal is tangy sweet hitting your taste buds.

Hollowing your cheeks as you suck them clean, you watch the confidence drain from his face, eyes rolling in the back of his head at the sight. The blunt ends of his nails dig through the soft material of your dress and he starts rutting into you with a little more force when you slide your tongue between each knuckle.

“Jesus christ,” his voice is strangled, words coming out through gritted teeth when you let him go with a loud pop.

“Now you can use both hands,” you say innocently, like you didn’t just suck them clean. You let his fingers tug at your bottom lip before dropping his wrist.

He fists a handful of your dress, a low growl rumbling from his chest getting a taste of his own medicine. Licking his lips, his eyes narrow at you before his teeth start to show, mischievous in the low light.

“Well if we want this drink cold, we need to fill this shaker with ice.” Just like the glass, he flips it on the counter one hand never leaving your waist despite his claim.

Pressing his lips to your ear again, he makes sure to let his breath linger a little before he talks, enjoying the goosebumps that appear from such a simple touch.

“Fill it up for me, baby?” Your thighs clench at the deep rasp in his voice, both of his hands finding a home spread out on your thighs.

Nodding your head you slide open the silver metal door of the ice chest below you, bending over more than you needed to to scoop it up into the shaker. He groans loud when you press into him like this, his fingers making quick work to flip the back of your dress up.

“Look at you, so fucking messy for me and I’ve barely touched you.” Grabbing a handful of your ass, he ruts into you, the rough denim hitting your clit in a way that has you moaning his name.

He laughs quietly at your neediness flipping your dress back down when you straighten out. Chests heaving in time with the other, neither one of you was ready to back down. Not yet.

“Might need to unzip those pants.” Looking over your shoulder at him you fake a pout, “Feeling a little strained back there handsome.”

Smugness dripping from the smile on your face, he raises his eyebrows at you in a challenge.

“Since you wanted something simple sweetheart, we just need two more things.” One hand snakes its way back between your legs, squeezing at the inside of your thigh before he lets you go for the first time since you set foot behind the bar.

Craning your neck so you could follow him, you find him bent down grabbing lemon juice from the mini fridge under the shorter back counter. Shutting the door with his foot when he stands up, he throws a wink your way when he grabs the simple syrup.

Setting the bottles in front of you he steals a quick kiss that leaves you wanting more before he grabs the small tub of cherries from the fridge he forgot his first go around.

“Okay, so you’re gonna grab the Jameson, and I want you to pour it out to the count of three for me then cut it off.” He returns to his place behind you, his large hand swallowing yours when it shadows your movements.

Your pour is shaky when he counts low in your ear, nuzzling his nose in your hair calling you a good girl after each successful addition to the simple concoction.

“Alright, now you’re gonna shake it as hard as you can angel.” His hands squeeze your hips for encouragement.

Doing as he says he pulls you against him even harder when your arms start to go wild. Your chest bounces with each movement making you giggle and you almost don’t hear the hitch in his breath at the sight.

He helps you by putting the strainer over the rim of the glass when you’re ready to pour. Mumbling soft words of praise while he nibbles at your ear lobe. The drink is much lighter than the one you had all night, the dark orange turning lemon as the white foam fizzed on top.

“I think I could take your job.” You smirk reaching for the cherries to top it all off.

“You think you could take my job?” He snorts incredulous, watching you unwrap the plastic wrap from the small tub dropping three cherries into the already very sweet cocktail.

“Absolutely.” Grinning while ignoring his stare you reach for another cherry, “No doubt in my mind.” You grab the fruit between your teeth, finally meeting his eyes as you pull the stem, relishing in the burst of sugar and grenadine that erupts against your tongue.

“Tough luck princess, unless you know how to tie that cherry stem in a knot with your teeth, no bar in this town is gonna touch you.” Grabbing his own cherry, he dangles it in front of your frowning mouth for you to bite. Obliging him with it bumps your bottom lip you tug gently, taking the fruit before chewing slowly while he sucks the stem once before it disappears in his mouth.

“I’m calling your bluff now. No one knows how to actually do that.” Daring him to prove you wrong he mutters a ‘watch me’ between his working teeth.

You don’t lose focus on the way his hand on your waist starts to wander, the blunt ends of his nails scratching against the fat of your thigh while his tongue ties the stem like it’s easy. Jaw flexing with each twist of his tongue before he pushes it out to show you, a pleased look on his face when the small knot in the middle comes out perfectly placed.

Swiping it off his tongue with the fingers that were inside you minutes ago, you wonder if he can still taste you when he sets it next to your drink satisfied by the way your jaw drops.

“How do you think I got this job? I’m more than just a cute face.” The touch of his hands grows bolder when they start working their way up your dress, a thickness in the air that wasn’t there before filling your lungs.

“That’s quite the skill set you have there Mr. Munson,” your giggle is breathless, your eyes going from his down to his lips as you try to play it off.

“I can do more than that with my tongue sweetheart, if you wanna find out.” His nose nudges against yours, the smirk on his face making you sweat when his fingers trace up your wet folds again.

Surrendering instantly, you forget all about the drink the two of you made nodding without hesitation the desperation for him all night finally taking over.

“Yeah?” His voice breaks when his thick fingers push into your entrance again feeling just how worked up all his teasing had you.

“Please - Eddie,” the pad of his thumb finds your clit again making you beg, “Fuck.”

“Asking me so sweet, how could I say no to you?” Murmuring against your lips, he finally gives in and kisses you. Wet and sloppy he only does it long enough to take your breath away before dropping to his knees.

His big hands on your hips angle you to face forward, flipping your dress up over your ass again. The air of the bar is still hot against your folds, arousal dripping down your thighs, you’re fully exposed to him now. You hear him suck the skin of his teeth at the sight, a ringed hand coming down just hard enough on your right cheek to make it jiggle before both hands palm the fat.

“I can’t believe you were gonna let anybody else but me have this pussy. Should be a punishable offense.” Pulling your cheeks apart to expose more of you to his hungry eyes, he pushes at the small of your back signaling for you to bend over more for him.

He moans loud enough to make you jump when you listen to his command, even you can hear the sound of your lips pulling apart for him.

“All this for me, baby, fuck, you spoil me.” He wastes no time burying his face between your folds, his talented tongue collecting your juices before finding your clit. The rough hair on his chin rubbing your sensitive skin raw as he shakes his head from side to side.

Squeezing your ass to pull you closer to his face when you try to run away, he sucks your bundle of nerves harder when he gets you back to where he wants you, dipping his nose into your entrance every time.

He does the motions he would do when he ties the cherry stem into a knot against your clit, a strangled moan ripping from your throat when he does it again.

Your hands find purchase on the top of the bar, eyes closed tight while you see white behind your lids. Your nails dig into the wood when his tongue flattens, the lewd squelching of your arousal filling your ears when he pushes his face so deep between your legs you aren’t sure if he can even breathe. The moan that rumbles through his chest and vibrates to your core tells you he doesn’t care. Wrapping his lips tight around your clit he sucks even harder, not caring when your legs start to shake from overstimulation.

“Eddie, Eddie, I’m gonna - fuck!” His name comes out long and drawn out when you fall apart on his tongue. Relentless, his teasing never stops, his hands holding you up while your body starts to shake. Humming low in satisfaction against your cunt.

“I n- need, I need…” willing your eyes to open, your vision’s blurry from how hard he made you cum. Pulling away with a loud smack of his lips, he palms your ass cheeks before craning his neck to try and get a good look at you.

“What do you need, baby?” He nips at the curve of your right cheek before pressing his face to it, dazed from getting what he’s wanted all night completely content.

“I just, I just need you to fuck me,” you don’t recognize the choke in your voice when you whine for him. Whine for more.

“Jesus christ.” His words tickle against your skin when he groans, kneading the soft flesh of your ass one more time before standing up.

His hands are on your hips before you can fully register the change in position, spinning you around and lifting you up he sets you on top of the counter behind the bar. The one where drinks aren’t served and the one that’s low enough for Eddie to slot himself perfectly between your legs.

Eyes blown black while his beard and nose ring shine with your slick, his lips part - swollen and pink from pulling your first orgasm out of you. Bangs clinging to his forehead, his hair is a wild mess on top of his head from your hands. The confident air about him is gone, replaced with nothing but the need to have you. Snapping out of your daze, you’re quick to find the metal of his belt buckle.

His forehead presses to yours, while he watches the way your dainty fingers work the leather out through the loop. The white tips of your nails catch his eye when you undo the button of his jeans and his cock twitches at the thought of them pumping him for all he’s worth.

He hisses when you push the denim down his hips, his hard dick springing out to smack against his shirt that you immediately wish wasn’t there. Precum leaks from the angry looking pink tip while your hands fist the hem of the worn cotton, silently begging him to get rid of it. The big vein that follows the curve of his length makes your mouth water as he obliges your pleas, ripping his shirt off and throwing it somewhere you’d have to find later.

You’re able to really take all of him in like this, his chest is heaving covered with just as many tattoos as the rest of him, the silver chain you’d peeped earlier hanging right in the dip between his pecs. Your eyes follow the dark patch of hair that leads to his cock, long with the kind of girth that you know is going to be a stretch, a strangled whine bubbles out of you at the sight while your thighs spread begging for him.

“God, I want you so bad,” you whine wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him even closer giving into your animalistic instincts.

“I know baby, me fuckin’ too.” He pumps his cock a few times groaning loud, squeezing hard at the base before pressing the head between your dripping lips. Mesmerized at how they wrap around his tip, his precum mixes messy with your arousal making lewd noises as he sweeps it through your folds.

Body shaking every time he hits your clit, you finally hook your ankles growing impatient when he teases your entrance.

“Fuck. Me.” You get out through gritted teeth, the lopsided grin he’d been giving you all night turns cocky when he pushes the tip in, your head lulls back at the invasion, the silk of your walls desperate to start sucking him deeper.

“Not so sweet now are you, huh?” Pushing himself all the way in, his rough thatch of pubic hair hits your clit when he bottoms out. His confidence falters for a second when a deep moan rips through his chest at the feeling. “So fuckin’ tight baby - shit.”

Your nails dig half crescent moons into his inked skin while you adjust to his size, his nose skimming against your cheek while he whispers how good you take him when your walls start to milk him, your body letting him know it was okay to finally move.

“Feel so good, Eddie, fuck - so good.” Your hips start a slow rock, feeling every ridge and curve of him. Your dress sits rucked up at your waist giving a perfect view of the way you take him, and it’s even better than what his imagination had come up with all night.

He lets you use him for a minute, big hands resting on your waist — content with just watching the way you coat his cock with everything you have left over for him from the first time he made you cum.

“That feels good, huh?” Cooing at the way your brows knit together and your mouth falls open, he picks up the pace, taking control.

Pulling you all the way to the edge, his strokes get deeper, the tip of him hitting the spot that you know Craig would have never found. He pulls his cock out half way, relishing how your velvet walls try to keep him in place, he holds his composure before pushing back in, filling you to the brim. Addicted to the way it makes you gasp his name and arch your back, your body asks him for more when you’re too cock drunk to get the words out.

The straps of your dress start slipping down your shoulders with every thrust, your breasts bouncing just begging for his attention. His cock twitches inside you, it's almost too much. Greedy for more despite fighting the urge to cum, he tugs the front of your dress down to reveal a matching bra to the panties on the floor. Hips stuttering for a moment he growls at the reminder of your date before tugging the lace down, your nipple pebbling instantly for him before he takes it in the heat of his mouth.

Pushing yourself closer, needing more, your hands find their way to bury themselves in his curls, holding him close. You needed him close. His tongue flicks at your sensitive bud and it makes you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. Your hips finding a way to match his strokes, reigniting the flames deep in your gut. God, he was gonna make you cum again.

He grunts around your breast, spit dripping down your soft skin from his ministrations while the snap of his hips start to get harsher and you know he’s nearing his end. He lets your nipple go with a loud pop before his hand comes up to grip your chin, his lips finding yours in a frantic mess of teeth and battling tongues.

The wood creaks underneath you from the force of his thrusts and the bounce of your ass to meet them. Mouths tangled, you swallow each other's ragged breaths, both of you desperately searching for your end when his fingers find your clit. Rubbing circles with just enough pressure to have your body start to shake against his, he nips at your bottom lip grunting when he feels the way it makes you flutter around him.

“Come on baby, give me another one. Be my sweet girl again and tell me how good I make you cum.” His fingers slip against your clit, fingers wet from how worked up he had you but his words are enough to have your world stop for a second.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Ed-“ Going blind behind your closed eyes he coaxes your second orgasm out of you with a silent scream falling onto his turned up lips. Proud of his work, his hips start picking up their pace inching closer to his own release he’d been fighting off since going down on you.

“God, - fuck I’m close - where d-do you-?” Sweat drips down his forehead while he struggles to find his words, his impending orgasm making him short circuit.

“Inside, shit - please, I need it, Eddie.” Still needy and barely coming down, your legs around his waist tighten their hold, locking him in place while you use the last of your strength to help get him there.

“Whatever you’re doing - holy shit , Jesus - I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” His hips press hard against yours when his cock twitches, spilling warm inside your greedy walls that don’t stop asking him for more. His face hides in your neck, the heat of his breath fanning against your sweat kissed skin while his body shakes with his release.

The roll of your hips never stops, just slowing enough to make him shiver after he starts softening, spent inside of you. You know there’s a mess starting to drip but neither one of you has the energy to move just yet. His lips start leaving small kisses along your neck, nose nudging against the space behind your ear and you can feel his smile against your cheek before he finally lifts his head up. The brown in his eyes return to a warm auburn like before when they meet yours.

“Rick is gonna fucking kill me if he ever finds out what happened on this counter tonight.” Rolling your eyes, you snort at his joke before shoving against his chest.

“You’re telling me you don’t fuck all your cute customers behind the bar, Eddie?” Batting your lashes at him, he squeezes your hips with a smirk.

“Only, the really, really cute ones. I take them to get pancakes at IHOP around the corner, too.” Something shifts in his eyes and you think for a second you might see self doubt in them for the first time all night, “That is, if they still want to.”

“Well lucky for you, I only let bartender’s from The Foxy Lounge take me out.” Nudging your nose against his, your smile touches his lips.

“Sweetheart, you know I’m the only bartender here right?” Grinning like someone who just won the lottery, he quickly gets rid of the space between you, kissing you like it too.

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#THIS WAS FUCKING INCREDIBLE #writingrecs

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outerspaceisbetterthannothing · 6 years ago

Text

My Ultimate Reading List

So, I’ve been thinking about making this for a long time. I’m exactly that reader, who likes rereading favourite stuff. But even though I reblog things I would like to come back to, tumblr is still a lil shit with searching through my tags, esp with 18+ content.

This list was made purely for me, but if it helps you to find a fic or a writer you’d love, I’d be only happy. I tried to make navigation easy. For blurbs links go to my reblogs, for oneshots and full lengths links go to the original posts. I try to check links from time to time, but if you see that some of them don’t work, please, hmu.

* stands for the implied smut

*** stands for the pure smut

This list is far from finished, that’s just the first things that came to mind and/or were reblogged. Still have a ton to add. So will update it every now and then.

NOTE, pls: There’s no Michael content here! And that’s not because I don’t like him or don’t appreciate him enough. I guess, it’s quite the opposite tbh. There’s no Michael content here because I appreciate him too much. I love this cute little kitten, he’s the most precious soul and, most of the time I think, there would be no 5sos without Michael Gordon Clifford. I just don’t have any fantasies or images of him in me, don’t see him in any way romantically. That’s why I don’t read (or write for that matter) about him as main character. I understand, that I miss a whole lotta great authors and fics because of that. Maybe it’ll change in the future. But for now, it is what it is.

Also HUGE SHOUT OUT TO THE PEOPLE WHOSE WRITING IS ON THE LIST - THANK YOU FOR THIS! THESE FICS AND BLURBS BELOW HAVE REALLY GIVEN ME ALL TYPES OF FEELS, INSPIRATION, MOTIVATION AND CONTENT. I’M FOREVER GRATEFUL FOR THESE WONDERFUL GIFTS YOU GAVE TO ALL OF US.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, WONDERFUL PEOPLE! ALL MY LOVE FOR YOU!

Oneshots

Ashton

Heartbeat by @gigglyirwin [Classic fluff and one of my all time faves]

Our Shining Star [Dad!Ashton] by @myloverboyash [Special thank you to @lashtoncurls for the tracking down the runaway author lol]

At the End of Night by @bringmethehorizonandpizza

Surprising Turn of Events* by @bringmethehorizonandpizza

Blindfold*** by @cal-puddies [Cashton smut which is too hot for this world]

Finding Joy by @bringmethehorizonandpizza [You, Ashton and adopting a cat drama, love love love]

Ain’t nobody got a drummer like mine*** by @myloverboyash [Drumming and banging 👀 at the drum kit]

I Can Love You In The Shower*** by @myloverboyash [Cute giggly shower sex with a little bit of trauma]

Calum

Redamancy by @cakesunflower [Heart wrecking fluff]

Birthday Getaway by @etherealhood [Cuteness and romance overload]

Valentine’s Day*** by @letsfuckndance

Lucky Shot In Paradise*** by @cakesunflower [Bartender!Cal]

Heartbeat by @uncrownedqueeen [Dad!Cal]

All These Years by @felicitycal

Blindfold*** by @cal-puddies [Cashton smut which is too hot for this world]

No chemistry*** by @novacxlum [Heartbreakingly great college enemies to lovers]

Where were you in the morning?* by @ snapbackcake [If this ultimately truthful but sad af one won’t make you cry, consider asking for help, because it’s too sad but also beautiful as hell]

Let me good to you*** by @snapbackcake [The description says it’s 6.8k words of absolute filth, and I have nothing else to add besides of what a great filth it is, so, 18+ kids]

Road Trip: Cake*** by @softforcal [Er, Cake threesome, idek what to say here]

The Little Spoon by @gigglyirwin [Classic fluff]

Luke

Boyfriend’s little brother*** by @lukehemmingssmut [There was also a second part promised, sooooo ^.^]

Fuck me like you hate me*** by @myloverboyash

Full lengths and Serieses

Ashton

Hate sex Series*** by @irwinofficial Tell Me How Much You Hate Me, Our Kinky Secret, Good Enough, No Longer A Secret [one of the best Ash smuts ever 👀]

Calum

Sugar Coated Pain by @cakesunflower [Boxer!Cal] [That’s what I lost my 5sos-fanfiction-virginity to, so, hey, Summer, thanks for the experience lmao]

Cigarette series*** by @cal-puddies [Best friend!Calum and a lot of hot smut 👀] Cigarette, Corona, Rolling Papers, Black on Black, Stuck [which was later replaced by the next part, but I’ll put it as long as it exists on the original list of parts, but don’t get confused], Navy Button Down, A Hotter Touch, Pancakes, The Second Thing, Ours, Losing You, Little toes, Holy Water, Date Night, Me, You and Little Hood, Five Years Later

Best Friend Pact Series by @calumh-excess [I’ve been crying like a baby over it] Best Friends, To Lovers, And Now Parents, But Never Forgot They Are Human

Wherever you are by @mysticalhood [Long distance with Cal and tons of tears with me]

Dates series by @calpops [this is so cute i higkey don’t want it to end like ever] First date, Second date, Second date pt2

Blurbs

All 4

First responders!5sos series by @calumsendgame and @heartbreak-5sos

Character template

Police officer!Ashton First meeting, Meeting under cover, Late night at her apartment part1, part2***, Kitten’s Kitty, Ash being overprotective

Firefighter!Calum Coming home after shift*

Paramedic!Luke Coming home late, Exam preparation

Dad!5sos series by @calumsendgame

Dad!Calum Working at home, Baby boy Hood can’t leave Duke

Ashton

Cashton besties by @myloverboyash [I’m still crying over this]

Farmer!Ashton series by @calumsendgame HeadCanon, Losing the baby, Levi’s at the hospital, Willow’s teenage depression

Pregnant with a werewolf!Ash by @flannelpunkcalum

Valentine’s Day sex*** by @softforcal

Cashton threesome*** by @paqueretteash

Overstimulation*** by @paqueretteash

Telling Ash you’re pregnant by @paqueretteash

Dealing with a teenage daughter by @i-calumhood

Accidental injury by @i-calumhood

Friend to lovers by @myloverboyash

Pregnancy cravings by @i-calumhood

Ashton and Joy by @bringmethehorizonandpizza [second part to Finding Joy]

Cuddle buddies by @i-calumhood

Best friend!Ash staying over under any possible excuse by @i-calumhood

Ash leaves you his clothes before going on tour by @asht0ns-world

Being pregnant with twins by @i-calumhood

You leaving surprises in Ashton’s baggage by @i-calumhood

Ash being nervous about kissing you by @angelbabylu

Calum

Riding Cal for the first time*** by @i-calumhood

Cal eating you out by @flannelpunkcalum

Your picture on Cal’s home screen* by @softforcal

Giving Cal head while he’s on the phone by @softforcal

Shower sex*** by @i-calumhood

Cashton threesome*** by @paqueretteash

Calum realising he’s in love by @permntvacaticn

Fighting with Cal by @cakesunflower

Calum comforting you by @honeycombcal

Surgeon!Cal blurb, second one and third from me by @cakesunflower [One more million thank you’s for letting me write for it!]

Stealing his clothes by @sweetcherrylu

Dad!Cal teaching his son to play bass by @paqueretteash

Cheek kisses by @i-calumhood

Kids cuteness by @i-calumhood

Small kisses by @calumh-excess

Sickness and sex*** by @heartbreak-5sos

Hammock cuddles by @heartbreak-5sos

Wide awake at 1 am by @reallycalum

Hot morning by @i-calumhood

Angry sex*** by @i-calumhood

5am by @saintlaurentcalum

Morning by @cakesunflower

Moving in by @i-calumhood

Duke being protective over your bump by @ singt0mecalum

Duke being a cockblock by @i-calumhood

Dad!Cal with your little girl at Disneyland by @c-sainthood

Dad!Cal with shy lil girl by @c-sainthood

Luke making Cal awkwardly confess by @etherealhood

Cal fucking you till you tear up by @flannelpunkcalum

Taking care of Cal when he’s stressed by @i-calumhood

Unrealistic scenarios by @i-calumhood

Hate fuck at college*** by @i-calumhood

Brownies and board games by @rip-lukes-balsamic

Calum confesses he wants an eternity with you by @i-calumhood

Lounging on the couch with Cal and Duke by @calpops

Brining your newborn baby girl home by @sublimehood

Dad!Cal reads to your baby by @c-sainthood

Fuck besties with Cal*** by @flannelpunkcalum

Calum leaving for tour and you’re a mess by @myloverboyash

Dad!Cal, kids and pancakes for mommy by @i-calumhood

Quickie before leaving for the party*** by @sublimehood

You’re drunk and Cal takes care of you while you confess your undying love to him by @i-calumhood

Coming home to Cal and baby sleeping by @c-sainthood

Car sex*** by @i-calumhood

Cal calling you ‘my girl’ by @calvmofficial

Cal taking you backstage from a crowd to fuck*** by @sublimehood

Duke protective over baby hood by @singt0mecalum

Baby hood playing with Duke by @singt0mecalum

Cock warming with Cal*** by @calpops

Clingy Cal by @i-calumhood

Sex with dad!Cal while kids are sleeping*** by @flannelpunkcalum

Jealous fwb Cal and hot bathroom*** by @honeyedhood

Calum wakes you up to go stargaze by @myloverboyash

Fake kisses at the coffee shop by @rip-lukes-balsamic

Talking about marriage and kids by @calpops

Saying the L-word* by @softforcal

Coming home to a sleeping y/n by @rakkaroses

Cuddly Cal by @rakkaroses

Running away from an event to eat french fries by @i-calumhood

Waking up to an empty bedside by @reallycalum and her anonymous

Waking up to a shirtless Cal by @i-calumhood

Luke

Calling Luke Buttercup by @i-calumhood

Fake dating by @c-sainthood

Breastfeeding by @i-calumhood

Riding Luke in a bus bunk by @hereforlukescruff

Blowing Luke while he’s in a suit*** by @hereforlukescruff

Post-divorce dad!Lu fluff by @calumh-excess

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outerspaceisbetterthannothing · 6 years ago

Text

My Ultimate Reading List v2.0 Blurbs Part 1

A/N: As some of you have heard or seen, My Ultimate Reading List (in it’s original version) has crashed on desktop because of (as I realised trying to restore it) too big number of links, so I’m basically recreating the whole thing in a new format. This post goes for 1st part of Blurbs. Here’s the 2nd. There’s one more post for One Shots and Serieses. I’m really sorry for the tag notifs for the people who has been tagged already in a previous version. Hope it’s not much of an inconvenience. I’m also not going to delete the first version of the list, as it’s been liked and reposted a lot of times, it’s still working on mobile, so some might still use it. But all the updates are going to happen only on these two posts, which I’m going to put in my bio instead of an old one.

So, this list was created because of my crazy urge to reread favourite fics and blurbs from time to time. It was made purely for me, but if it helps you to find a fic or a writer you’d love, I’d be only happy. I tried to make navigation easy. For blurbs links go to my reblogs, for oneshots and full lengths links go to the original posts. I try to check links from time to time, but if you see that some of them don’t work, please, hmu.

* stands for the implied smut

*** stands for the pure smut

This list is far from finished, that’s just the first things that came to mind and/or were reblogged. Still have a ton to add. So will update it every now and then.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, WONDERFUL PEOPLE! ALL MY LOVE FOR YOU!

Blurbs

All 4

First responders!5sos series by @calumsendgame and @heartbreak-5sos

Character template, Guys talking girls

Police officer!Ashton First meeting, Meeting under cover, Late night at her apartment part1, part2***, Kitten’s Kitty, Ash being overprotective

Firefighter!Calum Coming home after shift*

Paramedic!Luke Coming home late, Exam preparation

Dad!5sos series by @calumsendgame

Dad!Calum Working at home, Baby boy Hood can’t leave Duke

Ashton

Cashton besties by @myloverboyash [I’m still crying over this]

Farmer!Ashton series by @calumsendgame HeadCanon, Losing the baby, Levi’s at the hospital, Willow’s teenage depression

Pregnant with a werewolf!Ash by @flannelpunkcalum

Valentine’s Day sex*** by @softforcal

Cashton threesome*** by @paqueretteash-deactivated201905

Overstimulation*** by @paqueretteash-deactivated201905

Telling Ash you’re pregnant by @paqueretteash-deactivated201905

Dealing with a teenage daughter by @i-calumhood

Accidental injury by @i-calumhood

Friend to lovers by @myloverboyash

Pregnancy cravings by @i-calumhood

Ashton and Joy by @bringmethehorizonandpizza [second part to Finding Joy]

Cuddle buddies by @i-calumhood

Best friend!Ash staying over under any possible excuse by @i-calumhood

Ash leaves you his clothes before going on tour by @asht0ns-world

Being pregnant with twins by @i-calumhood

You leaving surprises in Ashton’s baggage by @i-calumhood

Ash being nervous about kissing you by @angelbabylu

Ash and his kid missing mommy by @i-calumhood

Ash helping you study by @i-calumhood

Calum

Riding Cal for the first time*** by @i-calumhood

Cal eating you out by @flannelpunkcalum

Your picture on Cal’s home screen* by @softforcal

Giving Cal head while he’s on the phone by @softforcal

Shower sex*** by @i-calumhood

Cashton threesome*** by @paqueretteash-deactivated201905

Calum realising he’s in love by @permntvacaticn

Fighting with Cal by @cakesunflower

Calum comforting you by @honeycombcal

Surgeon!Cal blurb, second one and third from me by @cakesunflower

Stealing his clothes by @sweetcherrylu

Dad!Cal teaching his son to play bass by @paqueretteash-deactivated201905

Cheek kisses by @i-calumhood

Kids cuteness by @i-calumhood

Small kisses by @calumh-excess

Sickness and sex*** by @heartbreak-5sos

Hammock cuddles by @heartbreak-5sos

Wide awake at 1 am by @reallycalum

Hot morning by @i-calumhood

Angry sex*** by @i-calumhood

5am by @saintlaurentcalum

Morning by @cakesunflower

Moving in by @i-calumhood

Duke being protective over your bump by @singt0mecalum

Duke being a cockblock by @i-calumhood

Dad!Cal with your little girl at Disneyland by @c-sainthood

Dad!Cal with shy lil girl by @c-sainthood

Luke making Cal awkwardly confess by @etherealhood

Cal fucking you till you tear up by @flannelpunkcalum

Taking care of Cal when he’s stressed by @i-calumhood

Unrealistic scenarios by @i-calumhood

Hate fuck at college*** by @i-calumhood

Brownies and board games by @rip-lukes-balsamic

Calum confesses he wants an eternity with you by @i-calumhood

Lounging on the couch with Cal and Duke by @calpops

Brining your newborn baby girl home by @sublimehood

Dad!Cal reads to your baby by @c-sainthood

Fuck besties with Cal*** by @flannelpunkcalum

Calum leaving for tour and you’re a mess by @myloverboyash

Dad!Cal, kids and pancakes for mommy by @i-calumhood

Quickie before leaving for the party*** by @sublimehood

You’re drunk and Cal takes care of you while you confess your undying love to him by @i-calumhood

Coming home to Cal and baby sleeping by @c-sainthood

Car sex*** by @i-calumhood

Cal calling you ‘my girl’ by @calvmofficial

Cal taking you backstage from a crowd to fuck*** by @sublimehood

Duke protective over baby hood by @singt0mecalum

Baby hood playing with Duke by @singt0mecalum

Cock warming with Cal*** by @calpops

Clingy Cal by @i-calumhood

Sex with dad!Cal while kids are sleeping*** by @flannelpunkcalum

Jealous fwb Cal and hot bathroom*** by @honeyedhood

Calum wakes you up to go stargaze by @myloverboyash

Fake kisses at the coffee shop by @rip-lukes-balsamic

Talking about marriage and kids by @calpops

Saying the L-word* by @softforcal

Coming home to a sleeping y/n by @nocciolohood

Cuddly Cal by @nocciolohood

Running away from an event to eat french fries by @i-calumhood

Waking up to an empty bedside by @reallycalum and her anonymous

Waking up to a shirtless Cal by @i-calumhood

Cal cooing over his baby daughter by @i-calumhood

Cal kisses you to hide from your ex by @calpops

Sexting Calum by @calteahood

Dad!Cal and kid’s jealousy by @calpops

Dad!Cal and Easter by @i-calumhood

Giving tired Cal massage by @i-calumhood

Cal taking care of baby Hood mama by @i-calumhood

Baby Hood hears 5sos song in a shop by @babe-babylon

Dad!Cal and nightmares by @babe-babylon

Bffs to lovers by @calpops

Clenching on Cal’s tee and one more by @i-calumhood

Cal coming home to you and Duke by @calpops

Jealous Cal by @calpops

Slow sex with Cal*** and one more*** by @flannelpunkcalum

Eloping with Cal by @calpops

Cal holding his daughter for the first time by @i-calumhood

Luke

Calling Luke Buttercup by @i-calumhood

Fake dating by @c-sainthood

Breastfeeding by @i-calumhood

Riding Luke in a bus bunk by @hereforlukescruff

Blowing Luke while he’s in a suit*** by @hereforlukescruff

Post-divorce dad!Lu fluff by @calumh-excess

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outerspaceisbetterthannothing · 5 years ago

Note

hi have you got any new fic recs?

hey! i actually do! was going to update my reading lists for couple of days already. hope i’ll get to it later today, but while i’m at it you can check out my fave writing blogs - @myloverboyash, @calpops, @cal-puddies, @i-calumhood, also @wildflowergrae posted several new blurbs i plan to read soon too. so you can browse through these blogs and i promise to update my recs in the nearest time 🖤🖤🖤

#asks #anon #writingrecs

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eagerbby · 3 years ago

Text

This is without a doubt the most beautiful piece Ive read in such a long time and if you could please share an ounce of your talent I'd be forever in your debit. Absolutely mental, brilliant, sexy. I'm gonna be thinking about this all day, all week, fuck probably all month

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary You're having trouble sleeping and pot seems like the only solution. Good thing your dealer, Eddie Munson, knows of another method that he's willing to to teach you. You get more than you bargained for when he tells you what he gets off to every night - you. [8.8k]

warnings 18+ only smut, fem!reader, eddie teaches you how to masturbate, p in v sex, light praise kink, mutual pining/lusting, lots of kissing, dirty talk, weed ment, aftercare, they are not so secretly infatuated with one another, eddie is a soft dork but also dirty <3 r implied as dressing very femininely

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie kneels outside his trailer.

You stop at the lip of the grass and wonder what he's doing. His back is to you, covered by a band shirt familiar even from this angle and riddled with rips and moth holes. You're about to call out to him when he speaks.

"You're hot, huh, sweetheart?" Softer than you've ever heard him. "Why don't you go inside? Escape the heat, yeah?"

You approach slowly, footfall smothered by the lush green underfoot. He's scratching behind the ears of a tabby cat.

"It's so hot out! The sun's gonna cook you," he says, whisper-shouting.

Like the tabby can understand what he's saying it stands, stretches tall and then slinks off into the trailer. "Good girl," Eddie says, standing up.

"Are you collecting strays?" you ask lightly.

He turns to you, surprised but not scared. "Don't worry, you're still my favourite."

Good girl. His words ring loud between both ears. "I'm not a stray."

"Uh-huh. What's my shy girl want today?" You spin on your heel and Eddie starts laughing. "Sorry, I'm sorry! Come on, you'll like what I have!"

"You know I can't talk to you when you get like this," you tell him, pouting from over your shoulder.

He pushes a mess of black curls behind his ear and beckons you forward. "Come on," he says, sing-song. "Let daddy set you up."

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, following Eddie into his house unhappily.

You hate when he gets in this mood, not because he's ever really made you uncomfortable, but because you like to be teased, and he knows it. Or he likes watching you squirm. Either way, it's dangerous territory.

"How much did you want?" he asks.

The cool inside of his trailer is a blessing. You hold your naked arms away from your skin and try to take a deep breath of cool air. "I have thirty dollars. So… however much that is."

"Babe, what the fuck do you want so much for?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder at you incredulously.

You follow him into his room. "Do you not have it?" you ask, tracing posters you've seen upwards of ten times by now. Eddie's a good dealer – reliable, sweet, and prone to freebies without any pervy requests in place.

He once swapped you an eighth for a cheap charm bracelet. He wears it now, the silver delicate and entirely too sweet for his metalhead appearance. It looks good on him, anyhow.

He pulls open the usual lunchbox you hadn't noticed sitting on one of his amps and pulls out more pot than you've ever seen at one time. "Don't I?"

"Woah."

"Uh-huh. Ern't she preddy?" he asks in a drawing southern accent.

You hold out your hands and he lets you take it. When you open the zip lock bag, the smell isn't awful. The buds are thick with green fuzz, and your eyes water.

You pass it back to him. "How much can I have for thirty?"

"For you? Half."

"Don't do that, Eddie. Gimme what you'd give anyone else."

"But you're not anyone else, babe. You're my favourite customer."

"I'm gonna put you out of business," you say, lightly chiding. "Can I sit down?"

He hums and nods and you sit cross legged at the top of his bed. His bed sheets are pushed away and the space is cold. His pillow under your hand is colder.

Eddie doesn't bother weighing it. You roll your eyes at him but also feel amazingly happy, because it's a lot of pot for not a lot of money, because his favouritism speaks for what you hope might be a small crush. Still, when he passes you the new bag you feel guilty.

"Eddie, I can't take that. I know that's more than thirty."

His eyebrows jump. "I don't care. What's the point in doing this if I can't give pretty girls a little something extra?"

"I don't know. To make money?"

He holds out the bag. You don't take it. "Fine," he says, sighing.

"Thank you." You watch him fish three or four bigger buds out of the bag. He presents you with a much more reasonable amount, his hands stained with the smell. "Thank you," you say again.

"Yeah. Wanna stay and watch a movie?"

You've known Eddie since middle school. Classmates, not really friends, not not friends, though ever since you've started buying a small kinship has blossomed between you.

"What movie?"

"Whatever you want."

You nibble the inside of your lip. "You'll roll up for me?"

"Sure will."

So you end up on Eddie's couch with the tabby cat that isn't his purring heavily on your lap as he rolls a couple of joints for you. You won't smoke anything until tonight so Eddie drops them into your newly acquired ziplock bag with papers and the leftover bud.

He sniffs. "So, you're not sleeping?" he asks knowingly, straightening out with a groan and disappearing out of view into the kitchenette. You're a total overthinker. Pot helps you calm down.

"I'm sleeping."

"After toking up."

"There's…" You scratch the vibrating cat behind its ears, frowning to yourself. "Worse things to do."

"Better ones, though. Hey, do you want a drink?"

You say no and he brings you a glass of water anyways. His hands smell strongly of hand soap and faintly of weed as he passes it to you. You take it carefully, weary of disturbing your cuddle partner.

"Like what?" you ask.

"Cranking one out, for starters."

You wince, afraid to bring the lip of the glass to your mouth in case you choke on it. "Anything else?"

"Running?" Eddie suggests, sitting with you but leaving a more than comfortable gap between your legs.

"Not my thing," you murmur.

It's weird, but anything above murmuring feels like shouting in the calm of his home. The movie plays on the TV and the cat purs, Eddie spreads his legs out and slouches into the cushions, his face surrounded by dark hair. He smiles at you like he always does, amicable if slightly flirty.

"Maybe pot is your only option," he says mournfully. He pulls a lock of hair in front of his face and his eyebrows pinch together. "Make sure you brush your teeth after though. Or you'll get bad teeth."

"Bad teeth?"

"Smoking ruins your pearls."

You put down your glass of water and weave your fingers into the cat's rough fur. Eddie is really nice. Really really nice. And he probably likes you, so… what's the worst that could happen, by asking?

I'm only asking, you decide.

"Eddie," you say softly, disrupting a big tobacco rant that he'd started. "What- when you say cranking one out, that's-"

"You know." He holds his hand above his crotch and squeezes the air. You feel a terrible heat start to collect in your abdomen. "Five to one? Uh- Nulling the void?" He grasps for words at your lost expression. "Making soup?"

His voice goes high. You think he's as embarrassed as you are, and you're not gonna ask again. You giggle. "Oh, right."

He drops his hand heavy against the seat of his pants and leans back. "Crank one out and sleep like a log."

"That works for you?" you ask tentatively.

"Every night."

You sink down into the couch and hide your face in cat fur. Eddie starts asking about how your job is, a genuine, earnest interest that further cements your next decision. You clear your throat.

"Eddie, can I ask you something?" He grins and waves his hand. "When you," you wince, "'make soup', do you just- how do you…" You slink down so far you're almost falling off of the couch. "How do you make yourself-" You gesture to your pelvis and then screw your hand into a fist, self-conscious.

He blinks. "Finish?"

You look at the chain around his neck rather than his face. "Yeah."

"Are you asking me because you want to know how I do it, or because you don't know how to do it to yourself?"

You rub your cheek with your shoulder. "The second option."

"Shit," he mutters.

"Sorry, you don't have to- I just thought-"

Eddie sits up. He looks more serious than he had before but not any less patient, elbows braced on his knees and head propped up in his hand. He parts his fingers over his lips.

"You don't know how?" he asks.

"I must've missed that lesson in sex ed," you try to joke. It comes out awkward. Eddie laughs anyways, a huff of breath.

"Lucky you, I've sat through sex ed three times." He grins brilliantly, but his joking tone softens when he sees your hesitant expression. "If you wanna know, I'm happy to tell you."

"Are you sure?"

"We're friends, right? What are friends for?" You don't miss the sarcastic twist to his words or his ironic smile.

Friends like you and Eddie likely aren't meant to be giving one another lessons on masturbation. But really, he's the only person you know who you could ask and wouldn't feel totally looked down on. Eddie's nice to his core, but better – he doesn't judge.

You struggle to know what to ask.

The cat chooses this moment to wake and jump off of you, strutting out of the trailer's open door and back into the sunlight without so much as a grateful look back.

And now you're alone with him.

"How's your anatomy?" he asks. You shake your head slowly. "You know, grade wise? Are we passing? B? B-? C?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Munson."

"Do you know what's what?" he asks concisely.

You sit up and press your knees together, suddenly very aware of your 'anatomy'. "I think so."

He purses his lips for a few seconds before shrugging. "Alright. We can work with that." Eddie pushes his cheek into the couch and looks at your face unflinching as he says, "You know what your clit is?"

You cringe. Full body.

Eddie shrugs. "What? That's what it's called. You don't have to be embarrassed about it."

"I know what it is."

"And you can't make yourself-"

"No."

He doesn't miss your frustration. "Hey, hey, it's fine. Some people think that it's, like, a magic on-button, but it's not. There's a whole process."

"How do you know?" you ask genuinely.

His answering smile is wolfish. "I'm in a band, babe. Fucking a guitarist is like, a bucket list thing or some shit. Girls will tell you exactly what they want if you're willing to listen."

Something about his knowing look has your heart skipping a beat. Maybe two. He pushes his hand across the couch and you're not sure if it's on purpose or accident, only that he's leaning in, a small smile on his face.

"And I'm a damn good listener."

You meet his eyes and know what he's offering. He waits, ring heavy fingers splayed wide in the space between you. It's the sight of them – thick, long and adorned in string-wrought calluses – that tips you over the edge.

He's already pulling back with a reassuring smile on his face, lips parted to likely say something too nice when you interrupt him.

"Will you teach me?" you ask quietly.

A split-second of surprise is quickly overtaken by enthusiasm. "You're not high, are you?"

"No."

He gets up to close the door and starts for his room. You linger on the couch uselessly and he doubles back, hand on the wall. "Are you coming?"

The noise from the TV fades as you walk down the hall and into his room. Your socked foot nudges into a tower of books close to the door and you reach out to steady them. Eddie pulls the sheets back into place and flicks on the lamp. He pauses by the stereo before turning that on, too.

A song you don't recognise starts to play. Eddie climbs up onto his bed and stands there for a second, suddenly very tall. "You wanna take off your jacket?"

"It's a cardigan." You peel the thin white cotton off of your shoulders and shift from foot to foot, unsure of yourself.

Eddie settles on his knees, pulls off his rings. "It's pretty. Come here," he says, holding out his arms.

You slide onto the bed cautiously, naked calves rubbing against the sheets. You feel as though every sense has been dialled to eleven; you're thinking about every brush of fabric, every small sound that they make.

Eddie takes one of your hands and you sit with one leg crossed and the other hanging off the edge of the bed, surprised at his soft touch. He soothes your hand and brings it to his lap, eyes on your now-bared shoulders.

"You dress real pretty." He says it with his usual dramatics, though there's enough sincerity there to make you smile.

You look down at your delicate clothes thoughtfully. "You think so?"

"Mh-hm. It suits you," he says as he drums his thumbs against the back of your hand.

He pushes one palm up the length of your arm and pulls it towards him at the same time. You've never been touched like this before and you want it bad, shuffling towards him with a shameful speed. He takes it in stride, hand bumping up the hill of your shoulder. His index finger slides under the skinny strap of your top and tugs at it playfully.

"You look sweet. Really sweet," he says, his voice more hushed than before. His eyes drop to your thighs. "You'll have to take those off, though."

"My shirt too?" you ask weakly, eyebrows pinched up at the starts.

"Not if you don't want to." You hesitate. He takes your thigh into a big hand and gives you a small shake. "It's okay. Take your time. Or, if you changed your mind, that's totally cool."

"No, I haven't," you deny, voice trembling with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. You kick your legs out in front of you one at a time and ease your shorts over the slopes of your thighs and calves, pushing them off of his bed with your feet.

“If you change your mind at any point-“

“I’ll tell you,” you say, nodding as you pull your knees together.

Eddie manoeuvres so he’s close, twisted toward you with his hand braced by your thigh. The cold metal of the charm bracelet you'd swapped him bites into your skin. If you leaned back and he leaned forward, he could kiss you. You think maybe he has the same idea as his eyes dart to your lips.

They linger.

He blinks and it’s gone.

“I’m gonna rub your leg,” he says quietly, “and when I get to the inside, I’m gonna touch you. Okay?”

As he says it, his hand moves onto your thigh. Down to your knee.

Slowly, so slowly, back up. His fingers caress the inside of your thigh. He pauses.

“‘Kay,” you whisper.

His fingers flex over your flesh as he draws in. Then, like a shock, his fingertips press to your underwear.

“I’m not surprised,” he says steadily, fingers brushing over your cunt, ghosting but never truly touching where you want him to.

“By what?”

“That you wear such cute panties.” He strokes the hem with the tip of his finger and you hold your breath as he slides it under the elastic, running the fabric over his digit gently. “S’exactly the kind of thing I pictured you wearing.”

“You’ve pictured them?”

He looks up from his teasing and your panties snap into place. You gasp on instinct and his eyes narrow, his lashes kissing in the corners. “Does that bother you?” he murmurs.

You shake your head. His lips quirk up, a smugness that makes your heart race ever faster.

"Do you do anything like this with yourself?" he asks.

"I'm never this nice."

"That's a crime," he says, and he laughs loud, momentarily shattering the distilled atmosphere that had settled over you both. "Thighs like these and you don't touch them?"

"Is that what you do?" you ask, insecure.

"No, but it's different. I don't need to get warmed up like you do."

"Warmed up?" you whisper. Having to ask these questions feels so embarrassing.

Eddie being so soft about it makes it easier. "Relaxed," he whispers in turn, laughing towards the end.

His thumb rubs the elastic of your underwear and drifts slowly inward until he's pushing over your folds. You gasp and it's slightly startled, sounding too close to panic for Eddie, who's hand flinches away.

"Didn't like that?" he asks.

You rush, "It's okay. Surprised."

One big hand holds your thigh, the other strokes your cunt. He's a little firmer now, pushing the breadth of his thumb over your panties until he touches something very sensitive. "Here?" He pushes up a little higher and your breath catches. He makes an almost inaudible cooing sound and flattens his hand, rubbing the length of your cunt without finesse. It feels good anyway. It surprises you how much you like it.

He pinches your panties.

"Ready to take them off?" he asks.

"Yeah."

You lift your hips and peel your underwear down, folding your legs to pull them off of your ankles. You clutch them in your hand, unsure.

Eddie sits back and pulls you towards him. You let him manhandle you with a small gasp, his hands pressing into the soft of your tummy. You can't see his face anymore.

"Alright," he murmurs, pulling your thigh over his lap and spreading you wide. His voice is loud in your ear because of his proximity, and you resist the temptation to turn your face to his.

"Let's just-" he works your underwear out of your hand and tosses them aside.

His hand lands on your knee and moves down fast.

You lean back heavily into his chest with your hands pulled to your sternum.

"Eddie," you say, "what do I do?"

He hums. "Touch yourself."

You seize up and he's quick to soothe, fingers closing around the crook of your elbow.

"Hey, I'm gonna show you. I'm gonna show you," he repeats. He pulls at the lip of your cunt and spreads you open, groaning softly. You wouldn't hear it if his lips weren't so close to your face. "How'd you have a cunt this sweet and never touch it? I mean, fuck."

His fingertips whisper past your pubic hair like he's going to say something more, but he only asks, "Hand?"

You put your hand into his, the back to his palm.

He sets it to your thigh. "Do what I did before, okay? Slowly…" He drags your hand up and down the length of your thigh.

Your heart is racing. Every time you crawl close to your cunt the burning longing to be touched, to touch yourself, and to have him touch you intensifies.

Eventually he pulls your hand to your clit. "You're so sensitive. Is it always this bad?" he asks sympathetically when you jump, tickled at the feelin.

"I haven't tried in a while."

"Oh, I see." Eddie encourages you to push your fingertip into the squishy bead, drawing slow circles. "Poor baby. Just desperate to have someone take care of you." His voice is so low, so ridiculously soft, you find yourself sinking into his hold. He squeezes the crook of your elbow with one hand, the other still guiding your ministrations. You bite your lip at the sensation that's begun, the tiny spark of pleasure.

"Here, let me-" He lifts your hand away from your clit and you whine involuntarily. "Shh, sweetheart, I'm only gonna give you something to work with."

You turn your head to him and watch as his mouth opens. He sucks the very tip of your finger between his lips, the heat of his tongue a momentary flash. When he pulls it back, your finger shines with his spit.

Your eyes are half-lidded, watching through the crush of your lashes as he presses it back to your clit. "How's that? S'that better?" he asks, crooning. His tone sports an underlying mockery, a light-hearted teasing that's slowly turning intense.

It is better. It's different. Your fingertip searches for purchase against the slick skin and struggles to find it, the wetness allowing for freer, faster movement.

You push a second finger against the first.

Eddie stops helping. You pause, confused.

"No, you got it, sweetheart. You keep going," he reassures, grabbing a hold of your thigh again. He teases the dough there, never cruel but maybe close, fat moulding under his fingers as he squeezes.

Your breathing builds with pleasure. Still, it's hot enough; there's no sign of an oncoming climax, no tightening coil in your tummy. You huff with exertion and frustration. "Eddie, it's not working."

"I'm not done." He sounds almost stern. Your stomach flips. "You have to think about what you want."

"What I want?"

"What turns you on."

You think of his hands and their rings. His happy trail.

His voice. Good girl.

You slam your eyes shut.

Eddie gives you another mean squeeze. "What do you think about, when you-"

You don't let him finish. "What do you think about?" you ask, too loud.

He stills. His nose pushes into your shoulder, his hair tickling your skin as he asks, "Are you sure you wanna know?"

Your breath catches. Your fingers stutter where they work into your clit and Eddie starts you right back up again. His lips brush your shoulder.

"Yes," you say, gasping as pleasure like little shocks of heat shoot to your core.

The hand at your elbow starts to rove, tickling your arm as he strokes downwards. "You first," he murmurs, teasing your wrist. You swear you can feel his smile against your shoulder.

You breathe in through your nose. "Uh, I think of- of somebody…" You try, but you just can't say it.

Eddie's fingers push down your crease. Stop right before your entrance. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah."

"Mmm…" He circles your entrance. "Now what does a pretty girl like you think of when she's touching herself?" You don't think he wants an answer. His middle finger brushes across the slick well and pushes in. You squirm and he holds you in place.

There's something very hard digging into your spine.

"Something sweet as you… Let me guess. Boy next door comes around to mow the lawn, you invite him in for a drink, one thing comes to another-" He pushes his finger in deeper. "And he's fucking you.

"That sound about right?"

You shake your head. His own perks up where it rests on your shoulder. "No? Huh."

Your circles have grown slow and staggered, distracted by his touch as he eases his ring finger in beside his middle. "Something more romantic? Wedding night, love of your life. Guy that's gonna treat you like a diamond. Way a girl like you deserves." He pushes in, stretches them out. You moan as he curls them, as his arm works back and forth. "Gives it to you gentle." His movements slow to match.

And sure, that sounds nice. But it's not what you think about.

"No," you manage to get out through shallow breaths.

"No? You don't want it gentle?"

"Not- not all the time."

"How about right now?"

"Please."

Slowly, slowly, the shape of Eddie's hard cock against your back starts to move in time with the thrusts of his hand. He pushes in deep, fingers searching emphatically for the sweet spot, the thing that's gonna make you-

"Fuck," you whimper.

His cock jumps. You feel it.

"You keep rubbing that pretty little clit of yours, sweetheart."

You do as he asks. You're desperate enough now that you imagine you'd do most anything he says, your climax a tangible, physical possibility. Your tummy feels heavy and aching with want, worse when he probes deeply and marks your sweet spot again. His lips press to your shoulder, soft enough that you worry you're imagining it.

"You see what I'm doing here? See what fingers I'm using?" he asks. You open your eyes reluctantly. His wrist turns. You watch his fingers sink into the gummy heat of your cunt. "Tight little hole's just pulling me in, fucking clinging to me, baby, she's greedy."

You gasp, a hiccup of scandalised sound.

"Want you to try, okay? You gonna do that for me?"

"Yeah, Eddie."

"Good girl." You moan, you don't mean to, but he's fucking into your quick and your finger pushes into your clit roughly. Eddie revels in it. "You like that? You like being called a good girl? I fucking knew it."

You frown and start to turn to him. He presses his cheek to your head so you can't, stuck looking down the length of the bed at your trembling legs.

"You looked so flustered, standing all sweet and quiet by the van out front with your thighs squeezed together. You think I didn't see that shit?"

You're limp against him, thighs spread wide as you work into your clit, chasing this new feeling. You can hardly breathe, every exhale a keening moan that has you shame-faced and weepy. You roll your hips to meet his fingers, his hand slapping against your cunt with a slick slap.

"You looked so sweet. Y'always do." He turns his lips to your ear and curls into you until your squealing. "Guess looks can be deceiving."

You're so close, so close. Tendrils of heat curl heavily at your core. "Eddie, I'm- I'm-"

"You wanna cum?"

"Yes," you pant.

He pulls his fingers from your cunt and you're so confused that you stop, your climax slipping away in seconds.

"Sorry, but you have to do it yourself. This is all pointless if you can't get there on your own," he says.

Your chest heaves. "That's mean. You're mean."

"I never claimed otherwise. Here, middle and marriage, babe." He guides your hand to your entrance. You push your fingers inside, your tongue between your lips in concentration. Your fingers aren't as thick as his, they don't feel quite the same, but Eddie pushes your thumb into your clit. "Move your wrist. Feel that? Feel how soft you are? How fucking warm you are?"

You're not nearly as good as he was but every clumsy touch feels electric. You push your thumb into sweeping circles and pant your frustration aloud, feeling close to tears.

"You wanna know what I think about, when I jerk off?" he asks unexpectedly.

You nod, your head moving back into his collar. He rubs the lengths of your arms leisurely, his lazy demeanour in total juxtaposition to your desperation.

"There's this girl that comes to see me," he starts, coloured by a smug amusement. "Sweet thing, soft-spoken, always wearing these pretty clothes looking like something straight out of the movies.

"I think about a lot of things. Her thighs-" One of his hands falls to your thigh in time, massaging, "fuck, just wanna bury my face in them and never come out. Pull down those cotton shorts she's so partial to with the dainty stitching and-" He laughs and his lips part over your shoulder. His teeth scratch up, up, up. "Make her fucking cry my name. Feel those thighs tense up around me."

You're so close your entire body shudders. You slow without meaning to, holding your breath in wait for Eddie to finish his story

He gives you one final push. "Always wondered if she sounds as pretty as she looks when she cums." He kisses the small graze he'd given you mere seconds ago and everything is blue-white with heat. "Gonna clue me in, sweetheart? Gonna cum for me?"

Your eyes close hard and you breathe out, an exhale ragged and weak and mewling. You don't moan so much as sob without tears, tensing up in Eddie's arms as bliss blooms. You pull your hand from your sopping cunt and feel your walls contract around nothing as you cum.

He pulls you close, throbbing cock pressing hard into your back. "Fuck," he hisses, hands placating where they lay.

You go lax, head tipping back as you suck in air that had felt elusive moments ago.

Eddie rubs your arms without saying anything. You cover his hands and try to summon up words.

"Just as pretty as you look," he murmurs.

He's so fuckng nice. So fucking nice, and what? He thinks about you when he jacks off? Since when?

You sit up and drop your chin to your chest, panting still.

"You okay?"

After a few seconds you smile and turn to him, intent on saying, Yes, thank you, and maybe something with more gratitude, something silly, just something. But you can't speak.

His face is close.

Eddie brings a hand to the slope of your rising shoulder, follows a line to the curve of your neck. You look to his eyes and find him staring at your lips unabashedly.

He pulls you into him. You close your eyes.

Eddie Munson tastes like lots of things as he kisses you.

Cigarettes, unavoidable. Under that, sugar. Something sweet but heavy as bourbon vanilla. Your lips part and close in tandem with his, slow and hungry. Your heart races and your fingers are still wet as you twist in his arms and take his face into your hands.

You climb up onto your knees and Eddie doesn't know what to do with you.

He smiles so hard he has to pull away. Not smirking, smiling, a cheek-aching, too-happy smile that softens everything in your chest.

You rub a shaking thumb over his cheek. You don't know if it's because of the post-orgasm rush of hormones or because he just kissed you and now he's smiling like he might do it again.

He does. He kisses you and grabs your waist. His fingers mess with the hem of your shirt and he breaks the kiss short to say, "Take it off?"

You sit back on your knees, feel the mess of wet between your legs spread as you grab at the edge of your shirt and pull it up. Eddie helps though he doesn't need to, and just like that you're shirtless.

"Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening," he says, voice weak in what you suspect is one of his dramatics.

He slides his hands up your sides and stops just below your breasts. His thumbs grace the undersides and his brow puckers. "Fuck," he mouths appreciatively.

You flush head to toe. "Yours, too?" you ask gently.

Eddie reaches back to pull off his shirt. His hair's in total disarray and he runs his hands through it, biceps flexing with the movement, torso taut. The black ink of his tattoos move with him and your eyes eat up every single one.

He catches your eyes where they linger on the volley of bats. "You like that one?"

"I've always liked that one."

He grins and it's honey thick, hands at the small of your back and tugging. You spread your knees wide on impulse and find yourself flush to his chest, his arms locking you into place as he dives in for another kiss. Again you're surprised at how deeply he kisses you, how it ebbs and flows from slow to fast like he's both savouring and gorging himself on your closeness.

You've never been kissed like this. You're weightless. You feel every contiguity between you, the hot and wet of his mouth, the crook of his elbow against the nape of your neck, your nipples peaked against his chest and the length of his dick pushing up into your aching cunt.

"Fucking pretty," he says, pulling back just enough to kiss the corner of your mouth, your chin. He kisses your jaw over and over and over, lips pulling into crescents and then the same word. Pretty.

His mouth opens wide at your throat, teeth scratching lightly as it closes. He sucks your skin between his lips and rolls it, hand spreading wide and palm flat at your shoulder blade. Steadying. .

"That's cute," he says when he pulls away, lips shining.

"What?" you ask, hand drifting up. You poke at the quick-forming contusion.

He nudges it aside with his face as he moves in to further mark up your neck. "You're so fucking pretty," he says, each word separated by a nipping kiss.

His hands are everywhere.

Everything is warm and you can't breathe. You plant your hands at his shoulders and push away from him, and he stops you from falling flat on your back, levelling you with a worried glance.

"Is it too much?" he asks.

"No, I'm just hot. Really hot." You take a big breath and wipe your face with the back of both hands.

"That's true," he says, leaning back against the wall. His hands fall to your thighs. "Are you okay?"

You drop your hands abruptly and can't believe the fondness you're feeling. "You're pretty, too," you tell him. Honest if very shy; meek, entirely sincere. "I'm okay. I want…"

"You want?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I have this fantasy," you begin.

Eddie widens your legs to move from under them. It doesn't surprise you when he comes to lie on your chest, holding his weight off of you with an arm at the side of your ribs. His hair falls and hides the room from view. All you can see is his face, and it's beautiful.

"Tell me about it."

"It's- okay. It's…" You drift off as he dips down to kiss your collar, only chaste pecks but enough to distract you. "It's kind of like this."

"Yeah?" His breath warms your chest. More ditzy kisses.

"I get here and you're coming out of the shower-"

"Tasteful."

"With a towel low on your hips," you add pointedly. It's useless, his sarcasm has pinned you spot on. "And you- you touch me."

Eddie kitten licks the skin he's just nibbled and looks up. "Like this?"

"Like this."

"And after that," his hand moves between you to the zipper of his jeans, the sound of metal clicking metal ringing through the room, "what do I do?"

"You push me down into the bed, and-" You feel the fabric of his jeans rub your thighs as he pulls them down. "You…"

"What do I do, sweetheart?"

"You push my legs up and you fuck me," you confess.

He scrambles back towards his nightstand, a hand on your ankle that says, I'm not going far. "How do I fuck you? Am I rough?"

"Not at first."

There, in his hands, the red plastic of a condom wrapper, bright as a maraschino cherry. He holds it up and you nod.

"Not at first," he murmurs, ripping open the condom, hissing as he pulls it over his weeping cock. It's big – not too thick, but big, surrounded by a thatch of dark curls trimmed neat. "But eventually?"

He rolls it on tight and then there's nothing but this admission of your guiltiest fantasy. You spread your legs without thinking and he pulls you towards him, thumb collecting slick where it's pooled and pushing it up towards your entrance. What's left on his fingers he smears over the length of his shaft. You watch him rub at the head and sigh.

"Eventually," you agree.

His cock rubs up against you as he leans down and pinches your chin between his fingers, lips parted from a sharp gasp and opening further. "Can I fuck you? Is that what you want?"

You nod voraciously.

He gives you a very firm kiss at the highest point of your cheek. "In words."

"Yes, you can fuck me. That's what I want," you say without hesitation.

"You tell me if I do something you don't like," he says, lining up.

"I will," you say earnestly.

Eddie pushes your leg up towards your tummy and holds it there. "Good girl," he praises, and pushes in.

You're already worked open by his hand, your own hand and your climax, and still it's a snug fit. You cross your arm over your chest with your lips bitten hard to stop from making what you anticipate to be a very great and mortifying sound. He takes it slow, real slow, towering over you with his brows furrowed just slightly and his back arching. Every move he makes is accompanied by a careful thrust of his hips. He's rhythm in motion.

"Fuck," he mutters, more than once. He's halfway when you feel that stretch, your pulpy walls accommodating him with little complaint and a lot of pleasure.

You drop your head back against the bed sheets and hug yourself.

Eddie reaches for your hand where its cracking your breast absentmindedly and squeezes your fingers. "How's that?" he asks. "How's that feel?"

You close your eyes. "S'good, Eddie." You lay out your own roll of expletives as he pushes in ever deeper. "You're really- oh," you gasp, "really deep."

"You should see it, babe, pretty pussy gripping my every fucking inch." He leans down and his cock fills another inch of you. Your fingers ache with how hard he's squeezing them, and you look up to find his eyes on yours. "I'm gonna fill you up, okay? You gonna be a good girl for me and take it?"

You blink and your lashes feel heavy with tears. "Yeah. I can take it. I can take it."

"I know," he says, hovering over you, close enough to hug if you wanted to.

He grabs your side and his thumb pushes into the soft swell of your breast, his grip tightening as he fits those last inches of his cock inside you. You rub your cheek against his bedsheets, your head fuzzy from being so full. He takes your bared neck as an opportunity and ducks into the juncture of it and his face fits there like it was made to, his nose bobbing against the column of your throat as he starts to fuck into you. His hips roll, a mess of his sticky pubes kissing your clit.

This close you can smell him, the heavy scents of pot and smoke, the sweet nutty smell of oil clinging to his hair. Sweat, as you imagine you smell of too, and sex. The room is filled with it, the smells and the sounds of his thighs thudding into yours.

"Eddie- Eddie," you whimper, muffled by the sheets beneath you.

He pushes in deep and rubs his nose into your skin emphatically. "What's wrong, hm? What's got you all wound up?"

You wrap your arms around his back. You're not sure if you're allowed to but you're hardly thinking ahead – you can't. Every thrust, every movement he makes is at the forefront of your mind, commanding all of your attention. The tickling of his hair against the side of your face. The skipping of the chains of his necklace where it teases your neck.

"Babe?" he asks, pulling back to turn your head. He stills inside you.

You protest, loud and completely unlike yourself. "Eddie, don't stop. Please don't." Your hands push into his shoulder blades. He ruts in at your request, thumb rubbing your cheek. "Feels so good," you say. You trip over your praise, voice breaking.

He starts up again, whispering, "Do you want me to hold your leg up, pretty girl?" and, "Taking me so well- taking it so fucking well," and, worse, "Fuck, sweetheart, just like that," when you tigthen around him.

You weave your fingers into the messy crush of black curls surrounding his face, careful not to tug as you covet the back of his head and nape of his neck, scratching his scalp lightly with one hand as the other strokes his side.

Your moans become a half-sobbing sort of mess, quiet and desperate, drawn out of you with every tap of his cock into your soft spot. When he finds it he can't not search for it, rutting into it over and over until you can't produce anything but an unintelligible stream of babble and happy sighs.

He laps lazily at your neck, the stretch of skin dampened and stinging from love bites. He thrusts in hard and hits something sweet that has you clinging to him.

"You smell good," he says into your skin.

Your hips ache with pleasure. "I must taste pretty good," you say. What, with how he's willing to nibble on you like this.

He squeezes your neck and narrows his eyes at you playfully. "I intend to find out." He moves down until your lips are a hair's width from touching. "Bet you taste as sweet as everything else."

You lift your chin and kiss him, dedicating your affections to his top lip. He groans into your mouth, hips moving slow and thrusts shallow when suddenly they're not. His cock drags out slowly and slams in deep, his pelvis hitting into yours.

You keen into the kiss, gentle and at odds with his fucking. His fingers find your ear and his thumb follows down the shell until he's pinching your earlobe, a split-second touch that melts you into putty. He pulls away from the kiss and inhales loudly, his fingers under your ear and pushing your face to the side so that he can wade in from a new angle.

You curl your fingers around his wrist and let yourself be kissed and fucked and touched. Anything he wants to do, he can do.

Eddie breaks the kiss.

"What did I taste like?" you ask breathlessly.

He traces an invisible teardrop down your cheek with the back of his pinky finger. "Oh, sweetheart," he says quietly, lowering his lips to the shell of your ear. "That's not where I meant."

Another hard thrust. You gasp at the dull aching spreading through your tummy and Eddie softens slightly, not so deep but just as fast, faster, his cheek to your cheek as he works you open. His rugged panting in your ear is everything you need. You force your hand between your body and Eddie's and search for the wet mess of your clit, chasing quick circles into the swollen bump.

Eddie realises what's happening and his fucking turns desperate. "You gonna cum again? Shit- keep touching, I'll get you there, fucking promise you." He's hardly pulling out an inch before he's rutting back in, kicking up the speed until all you can feel is pleasure again.

Eddie slows down as you cum, moaning as you tighten around him. He pushes away from you to kneel between your legs again, eyes locking onto your cunt obstinately, his panting loud as he drags his cock in and out.

"Insane," he mumbles, hands coasting down your legs until he's grasping the fat of your thighs and pulling you back onto his cock. "You're insane."

As if proving it, his hands rove the hills and troughs of your torso, your skin clammy underhand, his hips moving mindlessly. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand and blink back into focus.

"Are you close?" you ask him, whispering.

You're lucky he can hear you with the music he's playing and the sounds of your slick hole being stretched. Eddie tucks a lock of sweat-dark hair behind his ear and his eyes pause in their reverential searching to meet yours.

He peels your hand off of your mouth and holds it.

"Fucking teetering, babe. Been close ever since I felt you wrapped around my fingers." He pulls your hand and you take it as a cue to try and sit up. Eddie helps you into his lap, your thighs straddling his thighs, slipping down his length until you're stuffed to bursting.

You hide your face in his shoulder and he rubs your back. "You're okay," he says sympathetically, "I got you. You just sit pretty, there's a good girl."

You wrap your arms around his neck and try your best to bounce on his cock as he thrust up into you, a steady pace that turns sloppy. You rake your hands through his curls and kiss at the curve of his neck down to the slope of his shoulder, dizzied and cock-drunk, totally fucked out. You hum into your kisses with every prodding of his mushroom tip against your deepest spot, rambling nonsense at him in a way you hope is making a difference.

"Fucking me so good," you mumble, equal parts tearful and euphoric, lips wet and spreading a shine like frost in the sun over his lean shoulder. "So good, Eddie. Thought about this too much."

"Yeah?" he asks, sounding like a different person. Voice rough as hewn stone and hands bruising where they grip you, his heavy sack slapping into you with every sluggish rock of his hips. "Good as you pictured? M'I fucking you like you wanted?"

"Better," you say sincerely.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he says, and he's close, you know he is.

You roll your pelvis in circles and try your hardest, aflame as you plead, "Cum for me, please? Please, Eddie, wanna feel it."

Despite your shy intonation Eddie goes rigid. He fucks in with one final thrust that sends shocks deep to your core and spreading out, cutting your happy little gasp short as he pulls your head tight to his neck. His hips twitch underneath you and he's making sounds that are going to haunt you, whiney, begging moans over your head.

Eddie's tight hold on you slowly loosens. You're breathing fast, finally out of motion. Your thighs burn where they're spread over his lap and you squirm unintentionally.

He pulls your neck back from his shoulder and looks over your face, concern lining the soft set of his eyes. He cups your cheek in question.

"I'm okay," you say softly. "I'm more than okay. That was amazing."

"It was amazing," he agrees, caught off guard.

"Yeah."

You shift backwards and the two of you wince at the sensitivity. You ease your legs open and Eddie pulls out, pumping the sticky shaft once. His eyes flutter closed.

You move off of his lap and turn to the side so you can stretch out your aching legs. Eddie follows suit, collapsing off of his knees and onto his back, the pillow behind him keeping him propped up.

You watch him ease the condom off of his cock curiously, White cum has smeared and drips down the length of him, his pubes tangled by a mixture of your slick and his.

He spots you watching and smiles. "What, sweetness? What are you thinking about?"

"I made you cum."

His eyebrows jump but quickly smooth. "I think I went blind, for a second."

You giggle at his hyperbole and he pulls you down against his chest, your side pressing into his navel. Your cheek to the space shy of his heart.

His hand comes to rest on your forehead.

"Do you really think about me?" you ask, knowing the answer.

"Every night."

You close your eyes and hide your smile in his skin. He chuckles and wraps you up in one arm, his hand a firm pressure as he massage the dipped plane of your back.

Nestling your cheek into his chest, you say, "I think about it, too. All the time."

"Uh-huh. Maybe we can make some more of those racy thoughts a reality. What was that one about me coming out of the shower?"

You like this casual conversation and decide to try and make him laugh, stretching your words out low. "Well, you're coming out of the shower, and your towel slips open-" There, his bumping laughter at your over the top salaciousness.

"That's awful. Most cliche, overdone, cheap porno concept ever," he chastens.

"I never said I was creative."

"What happens after that?"

"The towel gets swept away by a sudden gust of wind, so I have to cover you. With my body."

He bursts. There's no other word to describe it, his back arches with the force of his laughter and he holds his fist to his mouth, shaking and giggling like an idiot.

"Where's the wind coming from?" he questions incredulously.

"I don't know! The window?"

"Oh my god," he says. He hooks his hand under your arm and pulls you up his chest, dotting a fond kiss to your forehead as you near. "And after that?"

"Well, I told you that part."

"Right, we hook up, but after that."

You clench your fists, insecure. "After?"

He brings the hand that isn't loving the length of your back to your face, stroking the skin under your chin with the backs of his index and middle finger, the flat of his fingernails sliding gently in a soothing back and forth.

"I guess it's kind of like this," you answer eventually.

"Does fantasy Eddie get another kiss, too? Or does he- do they stop, afterwards?"

"It's a fantasy. The kisses never stop," you tell him. Adrenaline must linger in your veins; you can barely speak.

His expression becomes impassive, and a lull in the conversation blossoms. He searches your face for something and you don't know what, but he must find it, because he dips down and kisses you chaste on the lips.

Your hands are back to tentative as they explore his neck. Your fingertips grace the curves of his throat and then sink behind, into the dampened mess of his hair.

He stays chaste, dainty kisses, pulling back to dot them against your lips over and over.

"Eddie," you say softly, "what are you doing?"

"It feels like kissing," he says, tone a mirror of your own.

You huff a laugh against his lips and kiss back.

Later, after more kisses than you could ever count and an hour dozing on his chest whilst his hand rubbed circles into your tired back, you get dressed into your clothes that he likes so much and slip your goodie bag into the belly of your strappy purse.

"Don't go over the top with it, alright?" he says, watching the green bud dissappear.

Jeans back in place and still bare-chested, Eddie sits on the end of his bed and scratches the back of his neck. You give him a grateful smile. "No, I won't. I actually think I might sleep really well tonight without it."

He smirks. "I bet you will."

Eddie walks with you to the front porch. You'd linger if you didn't have to go, and you're pretty sure he'd let you. There's a fraction of awkward silence.

"See you later," you say, walking sideways down one step, another.

Eddie catches your hand. It takes you a second to realise what he's done: forced your crumpled thirty dollars back into your hand. Your heart misses a beat and you feel your stomach plumet – you hadn't fucked him for the free pot.

"Eddie-"

"My girl can't pay for her own supply. That's not happening."

You take one step up. "Your girl?"

He has the good graces to look nervous. "If you wanna be."

You don't know how to answer. He looks pretty like this in the last dregs of sunshine, big brown eyes waiting patiently for you to say something, hand clutching his elbow. It doesn't feel entirely real.

You step on tip toes and work your hands behind his neck to kiss his cheek before rubbing your forehead against his chin. "I'll come by tomorrow?" you ask hopefully. He relaxes under your weight.

"Any time you want. I'll take you some place nice, if you're up for it."

You set back on your heels and pull away. "You don't need to go all fancy on me, Munson." You're happy to get stoned and eat burgers on the couch.

He looks you up and down, eyes catching on the flanks of your thighs before he takes in your face. His smile is almost dorky when he says, "No I- I think I do. I'll see you tomorrow, pretty girl."

You nod with an aching smile and are a little ways away when he smugly calls, "Sleep well!"

After the lesson he just gave you, you're sure you will.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist

please reblog if you enjoyed, I promise it makes a big difference! ♡

#fuck #im never going to recover from this #writingrecs

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outerspaceisbetterthannothing · 6 years ago

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could you recommend some good blogs, aka good fanfic blogs?I need some more stuff to read.

okay, so, i’ve got these three masterposts, which i call reading lists, where i post links for my favourite stuff. you can look through them and hopefully will find something you’ll like. here are links

https://outerspaceisbetterthannothing.tumblr.com/post/184639753233/my-ultimate-reading-list-v20-fics

https://outerspaceisbetterthannothing.tumblr.com/post/184639791738/my-ultimate-reading-list-v20-blurbs-part-1

https://outerspaceisbetterthannothing.tumblr.com/post/186516277993/my-ultimate-reading-list-v20-blurbs-part-2

but also, here are some names from the top of my head

i love absolutely everything my little pixie @bringmethehorizonandpizza writes

dad!sos stuff by @myloverboyash is def over the top. plus she does one shots pretty often

my sweet angel @calpops, her writings are definition of good literature

our little pumpkin @i-calumhood a.k.a. blurbs queen

also @gorgeouslygrace has couple wonderful stories, @flannelpunkcalum isn’t that active anymore, but you can look up her older stuff, it’s worth it, and if you’re into smut welcome to the chamber of secrets by @cal-puddies

hope that’ll help)

#writingrecs #favourite people write #asks #sinfuljade

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eagerbby · 3 years ago

Note

you actually have great reblogs expecially eddie x r ones. Do you have any more recs? I used to not have anyone on tumblr with notifis then I turned them on for one of your series and it’s been great getting all of yours on my home screen :) <3

It's so cool to me that your have my notifs on 🥹, it means a lot truly 🥰

As for recs; I save all my writing recs under the tag writingrecs but here's some of my favorite writers off the top of my head. Amazing people with incredible talent!

@indouloureux , @hellfirehoe , @munsonquinns , @inknopewetrust , @punk-in-docs , @munsons-maiden , @ladyfogg

there's so many more so you can always check out my following page if you're up for it!

I hope you have a great week and stay safe! ❣️

#answered #anon

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markstucker · 6 years ago

Text

YCBK 65: Advice about Letters of Recommendation

In this episode you will hear:

(3:47) In this week’s news, a Wall Street Journal article “Hackers Breach College-Applicant Databases and Seek Ransom”, by Douglas Belkin and Melissa Korn. Hackers were recently able to reset college staff member passwords to get data on prospective students and attempt to sell it back to them for the sticker price of $3,800. The schools affected were Oberlin College in Ohio, Grinnell College in Iowa and Hamilton College in NY.

(11:30) We are in Chapter 65 of 171 Answers and Mark is sharing his sound advice for your child’s letters of recommendation. Mark and Anika discuss who you should ask and why should ask to write these letters. They also talk about how you should ask. Mark shares an inside tip of what to do to make certain things you were involved in stand out. Anika asks if colleges tell you what they are looking for and Mark answers that question. Mark shares a quote from Princeton Dean of admissions where she puts teacher recommendations right on par with the transcript in terms of the value they have in helping a college make a sound admission decision.

(43:48) This week’s question is from Daniel from Elkridge Maryland and he wants to know how to factor in a university’s honors college when categorizing the schools on his child’s list. Mark explains how applying to an Honors college is a total Game Changer when it comes to building a balanced college list. Mark and Anika proceed to talk a lot about Honors college and Mark shares his view that from a “value standpoint” they are as good an educational bargain as you will find. Mark explains why he is so bullish about Honors colleges and they focus on some of the unique features that the University of Maryland’s honors college.

(60:13) Mark’s interview this week is with Chris Carlton, Founder of StudyAbroadsmarter.com and they are in Part I of “The Value of Studying Abroad”. Chris shares his story in the first part of a three-part interview with Chris. Studying abroad transformed Chris life and he wants to get the word out to everyone about how it can do the same things for them.

(69:43) Mark’s recommended resource of the week is an article on the MIT website entitled, “How to write good recommendation letters” Mark is extremely enthusiastic about this article and he encourages every college counselor, teacher, educator, parent and student to read it. https://mitadmissions.org/apply/parents-educators/writingrecs/.

Mark will be doing three one hour “free webinars” on May 8th, June 11th and July 11th for Revolution Prep, a leading test prep company. The topics of the webinars are, “Getting in and Getting Money”, “What is Demonstrated Interest and how do colleges use DI when making admission decisions” and “How to excel when writing “College-Specific-Essays. To sign up, use the following link: https://www.revolutionprep.com/webinars/

Don’t forget to send your questions related to any and every facet of the college process to [email protected]

Every episode of Your College-Bound Kid will align with a chapter from the book 171 Answers to the Most-Asked College Admission Questions. To get a copy visit 171answers.com and if you want to see what future episodes will cover just click the red button “See exactly what 171 Answers covers.

Check out this episode!

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eagerbby · 3 years ago

Text

This is fucking incredible, I'm honestly speechless

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ very graphic smut, rough van sex, dirty talk, analplay, sub!eddie but also very much switch!eddie, lust at first sight, major mutual pining, a sprinkle of perv!eddie but hes sexy so its okay, (1) guest appearance by dustin, post vol. 2 fix-it fic, 7k filth

summary: she’s the girl next door. eddie is the metalhead freak who’s just barely clearing his name after a whole town fiasco. opposites attract but certainly not like this, and certainly not in the back of eddie’s van.

a/n: pov vol 2 ended on a positive note and eleven miraculously fixed everything so a freshly-graduated eddie can now live his life to the fullest!!!!!!!! aka what should’ve happened… minors dni. not for u.

It’s rare for Eddie Munson to be roaming the white-picket fence suburbs of Hawkins. It feels like a fantasyland — golden retrievers and tabby cats, designated trash days and bright, green grass full of yellow daffodils, oak trees with makeshift swings and wooden playgrounds built by loving fathers. It’s too perfect, too uncanny, and Eddie knows deep down that he doesn’t belong in such a world as nice as this one.

But the suburbs of Hawkins are also welcoming.

When he gives Dustin a ride from school to home, when the noon is at its peak, golden rays and soft sprinklers making rainbows rise from the soil, he thinks — for a moment or two — that he belongs. He could if he wanted to. When Henderson invites him over for dinner, or when Harrington needs help fixing his car, when Mike needs relationship advice (as if Eddie could know anything about that) and when Robin wants to know more about Iron Maiden to impress the metalhead ladies, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t so bad on this side of town.

That is until he saw you. And he realized then why everyone called this part of Hawkins a slice of paradise.

Pretty college student. Cut-off shorts from the Gap paired with baggy baseball tees, and a cute nose always stuffed in a romance novel or — some days — a textbook. Glossy lips, adorable socks and checkered picnic blankets where you’d lay out on the too-pristine yard, kicking your legs back and forth as if acting like eye candy was your specialty.

The perfect poster girl of Hawkins with just enough rough edges to be labelled the girl next door.

Only, Eddie doesn’t live next door to you. Dustin does.

“The least you could tell me is her name, Henderson. I don’t want gas money, I want her name. Spelled out for me, syllable by syllable. Government name.” Eddie rambles, shifting impatiently in the driver’s seat as Dustin leans over the passenger window from the outside. “We’re sitting ducks here, man. What if she sees us spying on her damn fence like some creeps?”

The curly-haired sophomore sighs, fingers strung together as he frowns at his older friend, “You are a grown ass man, Eddie. All you have to do is ask her, just say hi, make an impression or something! You can’t just be looking at her from afar everytime you come over, blasting this Metallica shit…”

“You are on very thin ice, boy.” Eddie wags a finger at him, wide eyes bouncing between Dustin and the front of your house. “I don’t know her like you know her. I don’t wanna be weird, especially after just putting all this town satanic cult bull behind my ass. She might think — dammit, I don’t know… I just wouldn’t wanna scare the girl, okay?” He sucks in a deep breath, shrugging the thought off with a hopeful smile, “Not this time.”

“Disgusting.”

He snaps his head towards Dustin, reaching over and rustling the cap on his head with a playful smirk. “You’re disgusting, you fuckin’ booger.”

And as if on cue, like every other day he’s been through this neighborhood, Eddie watches your figure emerge from the porch, picnic blanket and weathered paperback in hand. His jaw goes slack at the image of your denim overall-clad frame, nothing but a bikini-like bra underneath the number while a fresh cigarette dangles from your lips. So much skin — the exposed flesh of your neck, the salty beads of sweat rolling down your collarbone, the cherubic glow of your complexion and the alluring blush of your lips as you sit out on the yard.

Fuck.

A loud boom pulls the metalhead from his trance. Dustin’s palm comes down against the flimsy van door. “Earth to Eddie? Get a grip, you’re drooling.”

And all he can really say is: “She’s so damn pretty.”

Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe he’s just really that in-deep with a girl who he has never, ever spoken to. Maybe he’s a pervert rather than a misunderstood freak and this is all just completely wrong of him. But, god, it feels so right to stare. Eddie can’t help it, especially once you catch sight of Dustin and send him an adorable little wave — then your eyes flicker over to Eddie’s dumbfounded expression inside the van, where you wave at him too.

And the twenty one year-old swears he dies. Right at that moment. His heart skips several beats all at once, possibly even flatlining as a small smile falls upon your graceful features, bursting right out of his chest even as you look away and immediately redirect your attention to the walkman in your pocket like you hadn’t just casually murdered him alive.

Fuck me, he thinks.

The next time Eddie sees you, he gets a little more than a wave. He’s reveling in this newfound attention as he bounces down the steps of Dustin’s porch and catches sight of you on the other side of the fence, already staring his way before he sends you a nerdy two-finger salute with a close-lipped smile. And just before he reaches the sidewalk, your sweet voice stops him in his determined tracks.

“Metallica at three p.m. in this neighborhood is a death wish, you know.”

Eddie turns slowly on his heels, shoes facing you before his whole body follows hesitantly. He’s trying to wipe off that stupid expression on his face, lips parted into a skinny ‘O’ that makes him look like a fish out of water as you finally make eye contact. He heats up immediately from the inside, belly churning and throat tightening when you give him a once over. And it seems like you don’t exactly care for subtlety either — blown pupils raking over his tattooed arms, taking in the torn rips of his shirt-turned-tank-top and the tanlines just above his elbows.

He hopes you think that the scars on his body are just as badass (if not, more) than his tats.

Say something. “Didn’t know music was on a schedule.” Eddie manages to follow along with a shrug, lips tugging to the side nervously.

In response, you smile. You fucking smile as if he hadn’t just said the most stupid response ever. It’s gentle, airy, almost effortless as crescent-like lines shape your warm cheeks and you cup a hand over your eyes, adorably squinting through the bright sunlight. “Oh, believe me, I had Iron Maiden on blast one time and ever since then, the whole block has been thinking I’m some sort of cult apologist.”

His heart grows like a balloon filling with helium, voice even going so far to climb several octaves of excitement as his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You… you listen to that kind of stuff?”

You play with the lacy strap of your top. You’re beaming widely at him from the other side of the fence. “Do you judge books by their covers, mister?”

“No, ma’am.” Eddie swipes the glistening pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, stifling the grin that threatens to spread across his mouth. Sheepish, he shakes his head. “I think I underestimated you then. I’m… I’m sorry I…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m kidding. Seriously though, I have a bunch of mixtapes back in my room. Ozzy, Dio, some Sabbath. No one really gets it, but you… you seem like you do.”

And Eddie wonders: could you get any more damn perfect? The suburban denim dream, the girl next door, the quintessential concoction of every teenage boy’s fantasy and every teenage girl’s desire… listens to metal music? And not just AC/DC or KISS (because everyone loves those guys), but the same music he’s grown up with and loved?

He can’t help but picture you in your bed, records spread out across your comforter as you switch between Dream Evil and Peace of Mind. Your limbs stretched out on the mattress, shirt riding up with nothing but black panties underneath as you rock out to his favorites.

Yeah. He’ll think about that one a lot.

“I definitely get it. I do, I really do. I love metal.” Eddie rambles, hoping to keep your attention by stalling this conversation as much as possible. You nod at him with those big, innocent eyes and roll your fleshy lip between your teeth, keen to every stupid word that falls from his tongue. “But hey, it can be our little secret, then.” He leisurely gravitates towards the van while you match his strides, taking note of his quavering pitch and the use of Eddie’s own hands waving through the air wildly as he attempts to withhold his nervousness. “And again, just for peace of mind, I didn’t mean to judge. I figured…”

“Madonna?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles. Feels the anxiety in his stomach build even more. “Nothin’ wrong with Madonna, though. Sexy tunes. Can’t deny that.”

Sexy tunes. Come on, Munson.

But that draws a giggle right out of you, “Sexy tunes, indeed.” Then, you’re both leaning against the side of his van. No fence or Dustin coming between the two of you, just your sweaty bodies and Hawkins’ summer heat seeping through your thin clothes. You hold your palm out, fingers welcomingly outstretched. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Eddie’s gaze bounces from your smaller hand to the doting expression on your face before gingerly enveloping it in his own. “Eddie. Edward. E-Eddie. You can…” You give him a gentle squeeze, a sure smile dusting over your lips. “You can just call me Eddie, or whatever. Whatever you want, Y/N.”

“Well,” You laugh again, and Eddie blushes profusely at the lighthearted noise. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Whatever.” You share another one of those looks, and he swears that this time — this time, your eyes do all the talking that needs to be done. “I think we’ll get along really well… Eddie.”

His name has never sounded so perfect out loud.

Eddie sees you again.

And again. Every time he drops Dustin off. Again. Leant against the side of his van. Talking and talking, until there’s nothing to talk about — but it’s rare. He always has something to talk about, even when his voice fails him and he stutters or stumbles over syllables because you’re so fucking pretty and he’s… he’s just Eddie. But you see him differently than the others, so he supposes that maybe being “just Eddie” isn’t such an awful thing after all.

Again, you talk. The sidewalk. Along the road. On your lawn. Sometimes, Eddie will even join you on your blanket, skim through your books and take note of what you read, then he’ll recommend “true” literature like Lord of the Rings or something else with elves and witches.

Summer has never felt so long.

Again.

Until again becomes every afternoon. Even on the days Dustin doesn’t need a ride home anymore. Even on the days he has to practice with his band at four, but he can always just come see you at three and drive back because it’s no big deal. Even on the days your parents say you need to stop talking to that Munson boy because he’s no good, but who fucking cares?

Again, anyways.

You’re not scared of him. He’s not scary. He never was.

And so afternoons turn into nights. And nights consist of sneaking out to Eddie’s van that he’s parked a few houses down the street, because God forbid he talks to the innocent girl next door. Innocent is one fat hoax. You’re smoking pot with him in the back of his fucking van for Ozzy’s sake, giggly and unrelenting as you sit next to each other and drench yourselves in the scent of weed and Eddie’s drugstore cologne while Metallica plays faintly in the background.

He’s all man, but soft with his eyes. Soft in the way he looks at you. Crude in the way he secretly desires you. Now that he knows you, really knows you, you aren’t just beautiful.

You’re completely devastating.

You take a long drag of his joint, wincing as the paper sizzles and burns orange. “Fuck, I wish I tried getting high sooner. You’re a horrible influence, you know that?”

Eddie hums with a toothy grin, fiddling with the pair of flimsy headphones in his lap. “And yet you still meet me back here every night.”

“Why do I even do that?”

“Um, ‘cause I got, like, really fucking good ‘A’ quality weed and impeccable taste in music.” He shrugs nonchalantly, eyes following the mold of your lips around the bud. “Easy there, tigress. Don’t hog it.”

“You said…”

“I said, you could have one hit. And now, I’m confiscating it.”

You groan in protest as Eddie leans over to your side of the van and snatches the blunt from you, tossing it into a mushroom shaped ashtray as he gazes at you curiously. “Since when did you become so mean to me?”

“Weed is meant to be treasured, Y/N. And plus, I’m always mean.”

He has to admit — there has been tension between the two of you ever since your afternoon catch-ups turned into late night talking. Maybe he’s imagining it, but surely you feel it too. The bubbling in his stomach when your elbows brush in such a confined space. The heat rushing to his cheeks when you laugh and place a hand on his thigh, or the dizzy rush flooding your forehead when he picks a flyaway strand of hair off of your shoulder. The increase in your heartbeats as you stare at each other for a minute too long, even sneaking in a second glance because you just have to.

“You know what you should treasure?” You quirk a brow at him. A smirk tugs upon your lips as you dig through your pocket and pull out a cassette tape, shaking it in front of Eddie’s face. “This week’s mix I made you.”

“My mix is better.” He flicks his walkman open, switching out the tape inside for the one you hand him. “Here’s yours, ma’am.”

And he supposes that no one really expected that his friendship with the girl next door would be founded on trading music with each other. Ever since you and Eddie found out your tastes were in alignment, you made it a goal to introduce new songs to him — Madonna included. Sexy tunes.

You think he could get used to the oddity of The Cure. He thinks he can convince you that Guns N’ Roses will eventually be a rock sensation. You’re skeptical. Maybe.

So you marinate in each other’s stagnant presence, leaning on opposite walls of his metal tin can of a van, holding your own walkmans with ears caressed by Koss headphones and lids shut as your heads bob to the acoustics. Eddie can’t help but crack an eye open, sneaking a peek at your chewed lip and your look of concentration.

“I like this one.” You pipe up, feeling his stare on you. He glances away before you can actually catch him, training his gaze on the mess of blankets behind the driver’s seat. “You know, your choices this week are very interesting, Munson.”

Suggestive. His choices are suggestive, is what you’re thinking. From the first to the last track, the list of songs messily etched onto the cassette with the most boyish handwriting you’d ever seen, you can only hope that the metalhead holds some sort of attraction for you in the same manner you do for him.

Eddie chuckles, and winces apologetically at you. “I still hate The Cure, by the way.”

You nod unconvinced, and pull one of the cups of your headphones away from your ear. There’s a smile of amusement, an interested dimple in your cheek. “And yet you included The Perfect Girl on here?”

“Only because it made me think of you.”

For once, he realizes that he has flustered you. Your jaw goes slack, your pupils widen, brows softening before your nose crinkles at him. “Shut up, Eddie.”

His palms raise in a peaceful surrender, ringed fingers wiggling adorably. “You asked, Y/N.” A beat. Then you’re playfully throwing a jacket at his face and squealing before he instinctively lunges forward at you, gentle hands pulling you back by the elbows. Despite the struggle, eventually he’s pinned to the floor of the van and you’re on top of him straddling his soft belly. “Get off, you monster!” He near-giggles, sputtering as his hair gets into his mouth and he feels your body racking with laughter.

“You’re so rude to me. Like the rudest. When has The Cure ever hurt you?” You pant out, chest rising and falling steadily as you both catch your breath. Eddie’s headphones haphazardly hug his head, walkman in the palm that rests above him. “Do you treat your girlfriend this way, hm?”

“No girlfriend.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm, I thought it was obvious.” He replies quietly, the sound comes out more like a soft moan rather than an agreement. His plushy lips are wet with saliva, tongue poking between the pink flesh as his eyes flicker from your parting mouth to your curious, swirling irises. “S’why I’m here with you.”

“So I’m the second choice is what you’re…”

“Please, you are farthest from the second choice, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs, ribs rumbling against his torso. Only then does he become hyper aware of the way your breasts push up against his shirt, the warmth of your skin intermixing with his, your nipples hardening against the thin white fabric of your camisole. Sweetheart, you repeat. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. “Do you have one?”

“A girlfriend?” You ask, tone playful and curious.

Careless Whisper echoes through his headphones; your mixtape is still looping through his walkman as you trail your fingers down his wrists and brace yourself on his chest.

Fucking hell. It’s ironic. It’s pathetic. George Michael needs to shut up. Why is this damned song on here? He’s struggling to think, struggling to focus on the words coming from your mouth, struggling to keep it in his pants because you keep shifting farther and farther away from his stomach, and more and more towards his crotch. Focus. Tune out that stupid saxophone.

“Sure.” He shrugs breathlessly, tingling with anticipation.

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not yet, no. Why is this a conversation, Eddie?” You bite your lip cheekily, knees planted firmly on either side of his lean body when you gaze down at him then survey the still-lit joint resting on his ashtray. Silence, then: “Can I have a hit? Please?”

Eddie glances at your lips, fixating on how your tongue darts out to lick at the sticky gloss. The moonlight casts a glow over your frame, highlighting the path of your curves through your tank top. And without really taking his eyes off of your beautiful face, his fingers reach for the blunt, a blush spreading across his chiseled cheeks when your hand brushes against his to grab it.

Please.

A sizzle rustles through the heavy air as you take a slow drag.

And Eddie can’t help himself. Not this time.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You’re slowly tossing the perfectly-good blunt aside, leaning down and lazily grabbing Eddie gingerly by his chin.

He thinks you’re gonna kiss him.

And before he can lift his head to meet you, instead, you’re blowing a puff of smoke between his parted lips with an exhale. “Fuck… ing… heck…” He instantly groans, eyelids drooping as your ass pushes against him teasingly like you hadn’t just shotgunned into his goddamn mouth. Party trick. You flutter your lashes bashfully, dimples poking at your cheeks as Eddie gapes at you just inches away from your face. “Y/N, where the fuck did you… learn that?”

You sigh. “Eddie Munson, you just keep on underestimating me.”

“I really do, I really fucking do…” He huffs, knuckles turning white around his walkman as you sensually tug his headphones off. “I just — just thought you were…”

“Innocent? Oblivious? I may be your girl next door fantasy… or whatever the fuck you Hawkins boys think about me…” You smirk, taking Eddie’s much-larger hands into yours and placing them firmly on your hips. “… but I am not fucking blind… you’ve been acting so off this entire night, must need something to take the edge off, don’t you?”

Fucking Ozzy. He can’t take it. His lips tug into a wince. “That easy, huh?”

Red-handed, you coo. “The easiest.”

“So technically you’re calling me easy, then?” Eddie jokes, heart pounding against his chest as he tenderly digs his fingertips into your love handles.

This is what he’s wanted. This is it.

And it’s not a fucking dream at all. It’s absolutely heaven.

Just like heaven.

“Eh, I think it’s endearing. The way you…” He curses under his breath as you lean over and trail your mouth up his jawline, biting his earlobe. “… savor me… savor looking at me. The way you think I don’t notice your stare, when your eyes wander a couple inches down whenever I talk? Oh, you think you’re so slick. I’m not naïve. Why do you think we hang out in your van at night?”

He shudders when your teeth find the cool surface of the guitar pick around his neck. “You’re evil, sweetheart.”

“And you’re horny, but maybe I shouldn’t talk about that.”

“No, definitely…” Eddie laughs nervously, swallowing as he looks down at you. “Definitely not. I’m… fuck, I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Or, maybe I should.” Back and forth banter. It’s natural with you. Too natural, almost like it has always meant to be like this between the eager pair of you. You don’t kiss him, not yet. He can wait. “Acting like a gentleman, like my friend, when in reality you can’t help but think of banging me everytime we see each other?”

“M’sorry, okay? We are friends — fuck, Y/N. Can’t focus… can’t exactly t-talk when you’re on my lap like that.”

Heat pools to his lower stomach, breaths quickening as his hands mindlessly drift down to your upper thighs, squeezing your skin through your little shorts when you grind against him. “Like this? How does it feel? Touching me, feeling me on you like this?”

Eddie’s eyes are dark, almost black in the dim shadows of his van. He looks up at you with the most dilated, entranced look, and you swear it almost makes you break. “Feels… feels so nice. Warm. I just… fuck, I don’t… don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do… Y/N, goddamnit…”

“I think it’s both clear what we want, no?” You press a kiss to his cheek, running your thumb along the skin beneath his lower lashes. His self-control is slowly diminishing, inch by inch, he feels himself melting in your presence. “I stare, too, just so you know. I stare a lot.”

“Yeah?” Eddie lifts a shaky hand, nervously cupping your jaw and nudging his nose against yours. His voice ghosts your skin, raspy and more of a whimper than a command. “Tell me about it.”

Your mouth hovers over his, lips barely brushing against each other. Touching, touching, touching, only to pull away at the very last second. He can almost just taste the marijuana from your tongue, almost taste the honey dripping from your voice as you peck the corner of his lips. Almost. “I look at your arms, and your really cool tattoos, then I picture… where else you have them on your body…” You gasp into his ear as his hips rut into you, his fingers drawing shapes against the side of your face. “Picture your lips on my chest… kissing me, leaving marks… bruises, hickies, whatever you want, Munson. Your mouth between my — my thighs… tugging on your hair because you’d be so good to me, wouldn’t you?”

“M’want you so bad. You don’t know the half of it.” He whispers, stroking a knuckle across the shadow of your cupid’s bow. “Please… let me… fuck, let me kiss you. Please, Y/N. Want it so bad. Been wanting you ever since summer started. Makin’ me crazy, got me feeling like I’m insane with the way I just… just obsess over us.”

He’s earned it.

“Like I said, whatever you want.” You grin devilishly.

Eddie’s lips finally collide with yours, erotically wet and far from smooth. It’s incongruous, sweaty skin rubbing against each other and clothes rustling as Eddie sits up, your arms swaddling his lanky frame while you crane your neck to kiss him deeply. His hair is in your mouth, his nose smushed against the side of your face, strained groans slipping from his throat as he traverses down your neck, selfishly licking the divot of your collarbone before his palms are venturing under your camisole.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whines, lashes fluttering against your thin bra as he pulls your top over your head. He’s mouthing at the cups, biting at the stringy lace of your push-up before he’s tugging the material down to reveal your nipples. “I just… fuck, I’m just in awe of you. You’re the perfect girl, and I get to have you.” He wraps his lips around the hardened bud, moaning as he alternates between the two and litters your flesh in dark hickies. You fist his hair, caving into his frame. “You’re so sexy. Just… fucking… took the words out of me, leavin’ me speechless… I’ll make you feel so f-fucking good if you let me.”

Your head rolls back as he kisses up the underside of your chin, meeting your lips in a more tender kiss. Your nails trail underneath his Iron Maiden ringer tee, lightly tracing over the raised scars on his abdomen, his belly, skimming over his sparse happy trail and the subtlety of his v-line. “You’re all talk, Eddie… wanna make me feel good?” He nods meekly, the veins in his neck flexing as you stroke his brow bone. “Think you should start by undressing me…”

“Christ, please.”

And without a beat, Eddie’s reaching around you to unclasp your bra, tossing it aside so that it lands over the back of the driver’s seat. He kisses his way down your belly, the little pudge when you sit, only for him to lay you down on your back, clumping up a bunch of jackets to make a pillow for your head. His fingers unbutton your shorts, tugging them down the length of your legs with your panties until they get caught on your Chucks.

He takes those off too. Quite frankly, chucks the Chucks across the van with a squeaky mutter of ‘goddamn shoes…’ before he’s pocketing a lineup of chunky rings into his jeans.

Eddie’s mouth makes up for the dorky mishap, his lips make haste against your tender calves, biting the squish of your thighs and nudging his nose against the glossy patches of arousal on the inside of your skin. He inhales the scent of your cunt, and you jerk with a moan of surprise as he kisses you there, open and fluttering for him while he lays on his stomach.

He’s never seen such a pretty pussy. It emboldens him, leaves him brazen and aching for more even though it’s the first time he’s ever seen you this naked. Even though he’s barely even had you, he still needs more.

“Need you so bad it hurts.” Eddie growls, looking up at you with a smirk as you gnaw on your bottom lip. “You’re just… fuck, how did you get this wet? God, you’re unreal, baby… let me? Please? Let me… let me eat it… I’ll do anything…”

Let me. Let me. Let me. It’s his mantra. You’d be lying if you deny that it stirs something animalistic within you.

You nod violently, biting down on your forefinger as he props you up against the wall of the van and parts your knees even further before he’s shoving his face into you. Your hands dart straight into his curls again, pulling and tugging until you’re holding him by a wiry ponytail, watching the eager way he suckles at the bundle of nerves just at the apex of your sex.

Eddie feels like a fucking virgin. Desperate. Impatient. Aggressive. He’s too excited — it displays itself when he slips two digits into your needy slit, taking in how you instantly buck against him. You need him. Need him in the same manner he needs this. His ego fires up as he drives his fingers further, running his tongue over and back and down your clit until your grip on his hair becomes suffocating.

“Having fun down there, h-hm?” You croak. Even with his head buried between your thighs, you’re mischievous, challenging, witty. He’d fuck the brains out of you if he could, but honestly, he isn’t even sure if he could survive one second with his cock in your little fist. “Fuckkk. You’re makin’ me feel so good, Eds…” Your head hits the metal wall, a soft bang that goes unnoticed with all the squelching and creaming as Eddie scissors his fingers.

“You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect, I love the way you look right now, s’fucking hot… could cum just by watching you.”

“Yeah? Just wait — just fucking wait till I suck you off.”

Eddie can’t wrap his thoughts around it. His tongue, his hands, where he’s buried inside you. He’s wanted this, ever since the start of summer, and he’s here with the girl he thought was untouchable — the perfect girl with a perfect, filthy secret that is him.

You’re grinding your mound against his mouth, quivering jaw unhinged in the darkness of his large van. His eyes flicker up to your tits, slick with his spit and your own as a dribble of saliva falls from your lips, tainting your skin.

For once, you aren’t put-together. He’s ripping your façade apart at the seams and leaving nothing to sew back.

“You’re a fucking mess, Y/N… oh, I do this to you?” He’s touching you till you’re vibrating and mewling. He’s lapping every drop of you up, tasting you permanently on his lips as he prods at your clit. “Fuck, honey…” Eddie bites you, hard enough to nurse a bruise on the inside of your thigh. “Please cum for me, yeah? Jus’ look how wet I’ve gotten you, sweetheart… you’re practically — oh, my god… you’re practically gaping… you wanna cum that bad?”

You really can’t help it. Not when he’s cooing at you with that whiny voice, teasing and suggestive as your cunt spasms over his pink knuckles. Your hips rise from the carpet flooring, and Eddie leaves another bite-mark on your stomach as slick trickles out of you. You don’t moan. You don’t scream, nor cry. Just a broken whimper and a restrained, quiet utterance of Eddie’s name beneath your breath.

Somehow, it makes his cock pulse even harder.

He gently kisses your cunt, running a soothing tongue over the bruises he’s left and the dip in where your hip meets your thigh. “Fuck, that was hot.” He smells the aftermath of your orgasm, really smelling you this time, and it ends up driving him nuts. “Oh, Y/N… your pussy…” You follow his gaze, letting out a lewd sound as Eddie admires the puffiness of your folds, swollen and open from his work. You jolt as soon as he tries to spread you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, d-didn’t mean to get so damn rough with you. You tasted so fucking nice, s’all.”

“No, I…” You brush his hair away from his face, pushing his bangs aside as he sits up and wedges himself between your knees. “I love rough. I can take it. I can take this.” Your other hand palms him through his jeans, before you’re dipping yourself beneath his waistband, hairs prickling at your skin as you grasp him. “Do you want me to be rough with you, Eds? Because I just… I really, really want your cock, and I… I dunno if I can hold myself back…”

“Oh, you little slut.” He gasps brazenly as you pull his shirt off, eyes wide at your sudden conviction for him, “Take it. Take me, Y/N. I’m all yours, whatever you fucking want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

You smirk, helping him kick off his jeans and boxers. Your cunt pathetically gapes for him once he’s bare, contracting around nothingness as Eddie takes your place against the wall. He leans back, and you just stare — drinking him in the same way he drinks you in. Your puffy nipples, still damp from his spit, your darkened neck a testament to his artistry, your mouth parting in awe as you fit his erect cock into your hand. Barely.

He’s big — lengthwise, and it curves heavily in your grasp as you lean down to pop him between your lips. Eddie nearly knees you, palms flying to cover his face as he desperately cries your name. “Y/N… oh, f-fucking… oh, Jesus…” You rake your nails up and down his thighs, licking a stripe up his manhood as you play with his sopping tip.

You chuckle in amusement around him, “Such a leaky cock. You like that, Eds? Mmm, you messy boy. All this pre-cum and I’ve… aw, I’ve barely touched you. Tell me what feels good, ‘kay?”

“S’all of it… all of it is — it’s good… fuck, words are so… words…” He melts even more as you sheathe him into your mouth, stuttering as he feels you hold back a gag. Your whole body convulses, back arching upwards as Eddie watches you take and take and take. “Oh, Y-Y/N… you just keep — keep getting better and better. Holy shit.” His belly aches with desire, tightening with each bob of your head and every seductive blink of your eyes. “You’re gorgeous. Thought about you.. whenever you’d — mmm, whenever you’d lay out on that darn lawn, what if I took you right there? What if I just… fucked you on that grass…”

“You and your dirty mouth, Munson.” You glare up at him in feigned annoyance, jerking his shaft with fast, purposeful movements. “I think it’s funny… how you pretend like you’re such a nice guy when really, you’re only a perv for me.”

“So what? Are you gonna punish me?” He challenges beadily, tongue poking out between gritted teeth like he could win this fight. “Or are you gonna fuck me, pretty girl?”

And just like that, the air changes. He feels the shift, the veil that falls over your eyes, nothing but sex and his scent running in your mind.

“No, Eds.” You move to straddle his thigh; your bare cunt dragging against his scarred skin. “I’m gonna make you beg.”

You take him into your fist again, stroking him between the generous suction of your lips and the sweep of your tongue. He tastes good to your surprise, and then you’re creating a pool of spit that trickles from his abdomen to his balls.

Messy girl. “Christ, Y/N.”

You release him with an erotic pop! — there’s stringy saliva connecting you to the crown of his cock, your throat is raw, his dick impatient, twitchy and excited. “You wanna fuck me so bad, you can’t even think straight. Look at my hand right now, look how tiny it looks when I hold you…” You grind yourself against his knee, groaning with him as you quicken your pace. Your brows furrow, a wicked grin ghosting itself over your features. “Baby, are you going to cum already?”

“Y/N, don’t s-stop. I’m beggin’ you, please…”

“Oh, you’re begging? This is what you call begging?”

“Please, s’too hard.”

“Too hard? What’s too hard? Me not letting you cum, or…” You give him one good jerk, twisting your fist so that your thumb brushes over his white-coated tip. “… your cock? Because you’re awfully, awfully rock hard right now. I bet it hurts doesn’t it, my love?” My love. His eyes gloss over. Your mouth hugs the shell of his ear. “You wanna cum?”

“Y-Yes…” He near-whimpers. Desperate. “Wanna cum so badly.”

“No.”

You release him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. His climax dwindles back to square one, and his leg thrashes out in dismay. There’s sweat beading down your forehead, drops forming on Eddie’s brow bone as he scowls at you.

You kiss him, almost like an apology, but Eddie can tell you’re not sorry. Far from it. You enjoy this, enjoy getting him off just to start over and make him beg. Is it so sick that he likes it? The more you stretch this interaction out, the more he gets to touch you. Like now, as you swing your knees on either side of him, his palm gingerly clasping the nape of your neck as he presses your face to his.

“Let me fuck you? Let me be inside?” He pleads, nudging his nose against yours in anguished yearning. He drags his hand over your cheek, enveloping your jaw with outstretched fingers. “Just wanna bury myself inside you and stay there. Don’t even wanna cum anymore, I promise. I promise I’ll fuck you so good, m’not pathetic like the other guys… wanna feel you jus’ dripping on me, Y/N.”

You don’t answer, just gasp into his parted mouth as you line each other up. The angry head of his cock catches on your swell, snagging your clit before his tip lodges itself inside you and he — quite literally — goes rigid. You curse, slowly sinking down his length until your pussy refuses to take more.

“You’re s-so big.”

Eddie feels like he’s going to fucking burst. “Sweetheart,” He pants, panicked and frenzied as you squeeze around him. Your head lolls onto his shoulder, arms thrown around his body as he tangles his slender fingers into your scalp and pulls you impossibly closer to his chest. “Sweetheart, I can feel every p-part of you… you’re so — fuck, just like that, you wet messy thing.” He whines, the curve of your ass coming down against his lap as you keenly bounce on his cock. He meets you with gentle thrusts, your cunt already milking him thin. “Look at you, fuck, you’re loving this.”

“E-Eddie…” Your tits are squished against his pecs, his necklace sandwiching itself between your damp skin. “More. More. Give it…”

“You can’t take it, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can take it. I can. It’s not enough, I’m telling you.” You rut your hips stubbornly, guiding his palms to your waist before he’s carefully rolling you onto your side and hiking your calf over the tender slope of his shoulder. “S’not nearly enough, Eds.”

“Okay.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply as he slips himself deeper inside you. The stretch stings harshly, flashes of white prickling at the cones of your vision as he splits you raw and wide open. “Is this enough? You fuckin’… god, you perfect whore…” Your spine tingles as Eddie tugs you closer by the hip, ramming himself into you relentlessly. “… such perfect tits, a perfect leaky cunt…” He presses a kiss to your ankle, before flipping you onto your knees so that he can fuck you from behind. He wants to see you, see you flutter for him, feed his sick thoughts and relive the nights where he jerked himself off in this very van in empty parking lots to the idea of you. “… and this perfect ass… another hole waiting to be used, right, Y/N? You’d let me use it, wouldn’t you? If I’m nice enough, I bet you’d let me fuck it…”

Fucking hell.

You cum as soon as he dips the pad of his thumb against the responsive ring of muscle. You both grow feral at the sensation. Soaked. Pussy chafed raw from his cock. You can’t tell whose fluids are whose, if it’s Eddie’s spit or yours, if it’s your juices or his — the embarrassing manner in which your cunt just sucks him in, the tight walls of your ass fluttering around his gentle finger as he drives into you.

How is the van still upright? Eddie doesn’t know.

He’s an Ozzy clusterfuck of strangled, broken sounds and you’re a broken record player of Eddie-Eddie-Eds-Please, I’m cumming!

He doesn’t stop. Even when you’re shaking and bent-half in now missionary, he sheathes himself inside you till his pelvic bone is crushed to your body. “You feel so good, I’m sorry… I can’t — can’t stop, baby…”

“Don’t. Don’t stop, it’s a-alright.” You heave out, interlocking fingers as his glistening cock disappears into your used cunt. “It’s a l-lot, but it’s okay.” Eddie’s body engulfs you, your heels digging into the dimples in his lower back as he pounds into you. “You’re such a good — good boy, fuck…”

“Yeah?” He bites your throat. “Say.” The under-swell of your boob. “It.” Your arm. “Again.”

“Good boy. Such a good boy, fucking me the way I deserve.”

“Fucking you like you’re a slut.”

“Fucking me like I’m not the girl next door…” You chuckle, breathy and airy before he knocks the wind right out of you. “The whole town is gonna call me a w-whore for once.”

“Suits you better.”

You swear your soul leaves your body. You’re dying. You are dead, nearly limp in his fumbling boyish hands as he cradles your head against his chest and wipes the sweat from your eyes like he loves you. His balls slap against your loosened rim, his thumb putting pressure on your clit until you’re frantically pushing him away.

“I can’t cum again. I can’t.” You sob in pleasure, clawing at his tattoos as if they could save you from his insatiable hunger. “Eddie!”

“Need it, need your cum again, Y/N.” Eddie growls, thrusts stuttering and cock pulsating wildly before he’s spitting onto your sex as if you needed to be any more wet. “I-I think you’re so… so fucking cool, you’re just… you’re too good for me, but I fucking adore you.”

I adore you.

You can’t even talk anymore, vocal chords ripped right out of your throat as your stomach cramps, cramps, cramps and then drops to a low point. Crashing. Flatlining. Clenching hopelessly.

You nearly choke Eddie as a hand flies out to touch him, pulling him close as your walls trap him for a second time. Only now, he’s locked in tight, unable to move, unable to go anywhere and he fucking cums immediately because it’s just too inviting. You feel him seeping out of you, painting your holes with his sticky cum as he stills there like a good boy. He grunts against your lips, kissing you poorly as his orgasm eats him alive.

He’s milked. Spent.

Eddie collapses on top of you, one leg jutted straight and the other bent as he embraces you close with his whole weight resting on your frame. How can he already miss something he just had? Gaining your strength, you kiss down his shoulder, fingertips swirling over muscle and scar tissue and ink as the smell of him floors you.

It’s so Eddie. Woody, earthy, with a spicy fresh top note reminiscent of oak moss and a hint of gasoline, dry cedar and herbs. It makes you dizzy in the best way possible. He’s drenched in the girlish smell of sex, sweat and salty but you’re eager to taste him anyways.

My good boy, you think.

“Are you okay?” Your voice comes out raspy and winded, almost sickly but Eddie knows it's a good-sick.

“Yes, yeah. I just… need a sec.”

“Hm, don’t take too long, Munson.” Shit. Is this over already? Just like that? “Might get wet again.”

Oh. It’s a joke.

And he laughs, wheezy and exhausted as he irritatedly tugs his own hair out of his mouth. “You’re gonna be the death of me, ma’am.” He leans back on his hinges to properly look at you, your cheeks rubbed red-raw from his teeth and your abused, achy cunt still stuffed full of his prick. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive.”

“Barely.”

“Barely.” You repeat heartily, shaking your head at him with a look of bewilderment. “S’gonna hurt when you pull out, you know.”

“Are you telling me to stay here forever?”

“If you admit that you like The Cure, then yes…” You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against his wrist. “… I’ll let you stay there forever.”

Forever. You both push down the giddy, cheesy smiles that threaten to spread across your faces.

“Never. Never ever.” Eddie chuckles. When he tenderly and patiently pulls out, a wet rush slowly floods out of you, his fingers frantically plug you shut — his thick, translucent cum dripping from his knuckles as he selfishly fucks his hot spill back into you like the perv he is. “But that can stay there forever.”

A freak, but not in the way Hawkins thinks.

You melt at the feeling, limbs spasming awkwardly as he spreads himself over your pussy distractedly. His eyes are so goddamn soft, kind, attentive — even when he’s pushing some of it into your poor asshole, he’s still the sweetest guy you’ve ever hooked up with.

He kisses your clit before he lovingly hikes your panties up your legs.

Fucker.

“Did I ruin you, sweetheart? Awfully quiet.”

You scoff, shimmying into your shorts and camisole as Eddie tucks himself back into his boxers. “Just wondering how you expect me to climb back into my window after all that.”

“Who said anything about climbing…” He laughs boisterously, leaning over and fixing the strap of your bra. “What do you say I walk you to the porch, ring that bell and introduce myself to mom and pop?”

You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“Absolutely not, Eddie Munson.”

He finds himself liking the suburbs a lot more.

Only this time, he doesn’t imagine himself surrounded by picket fences and golden retrievers, mailboxes with his last name painted in unreadable cursive or having to mow his front lawn at seven in the fucking morning.

Eddie doesn’t need to when Hawkins’ slice of paradise is just next door.

And he gets to taste it every fucking day and night.

So, fuck it. He’ll climb your window so you don’t have to wobble back to your house with his cum dripping down your leg. He’s a gentleman, railing you in the abandoned parking lot of Starcourt because you can’t handle the embarrassment of getting caught by someone at home. He’ll cover your mouth in the shed in your backyard so the neighbors don’t complain about the howling coyotes that have gone loose in the neighborhood.

God forbid they have coyotes, right?

But really, they should be worrying about the devastatingly gorgeous girl next door and her favorite, good boy with a dwindling hatred for The Cure.

Even though, the album is growing on him.

He’ll never admit that, though.

#a masterpiece #pretty baby #writingrecs

27K notes · View notes

eagerbby · 3 years ago

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Ali you are literally INSANE for this! Beautifully written, captivating, you seriously had me hooked from the first paragraph. You took the student/professor au and made it something so special and fresh. I really really love this, I can not wait to see what you have planned for this series. You're a fucking genius 🥹💖

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 pt. i ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: something that is desired all the more because it is not allowed—you find yourself torn between the idea that even though eddie is in a position of authority as your professor, he’s still what you crave the most.

cw: 18+ (minors, dni) teacher/student relationship, age gap (21 & 29), corruption!kink (eddie is well aware of what he’s doing), background ronance, max is readers bestfriend, eddie likes to wear his hair up for class and hates being formal, bratty!reader (sorta), angsty touches, a smutty cliffhanger, ect & lots more to come (pun intended)

word count: 11.6k

The campus was huge and crowded and everything you hated all wrapped into one—but you couldn’t beat the view, the pleasant Indians weather, and all the amazing classes the college had to offer. And normally, first days would be terrifying, crippling your anxiety, but there was nothing but excitement; for now, at least.

Most of your morning was spent combing through syllabuses and trying to find your classes, which is mostly your own fault, deciding on a major so vastly different from your main course work—by the time afternoon rolls around, you’re forced to walk clear across campus, nearly ten minutes late to your class and faced with a surprisingly unirritated gentleman, who’s three seconds away from shutting the door closed indefinitely.

The man steals a glance at his watch, arm twitching slightly to force his sleeve back. His eyes glance up to you for a moment and back down, “Not a great way to start off your first day,” He comments cooly, face void of any emotion, “is this gonna be a habit?”

“No—god, no,” You respond, slightly out of breath, hand clutching the strap of your book bag, “I’m just getting used to where everything’s at—I didn’t get a chance to visit the campus earlier, I have no idea where anything is or—“

“It’s fine,” He assures, beckoning you into the classroom, surprisingly full, forcing you to the front row, positioned almost directly in front of his desk—this was the beginning of your nightmare, “let’s just be mindful of time, yeah?”

Not that Eddie has ever been punctual a day in his life. But, he’s learned that being a hard-ass is more effective than not giving a shit at all, especially when it comes to his students.

“Yeah—yes, I promise.” You swear, forcing a thin smile before making an immediate line for your desk, hoping that the further you sink, the more unnoticed you’ll be. Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case.

The loud slide of the chalk against the chalkboard as he writes his name across the green slab is defeating, most of the class watching in fearful silence—like there was some impending doom about to descend upon them.

“Uh, sir—“ You can see him visibly tense at the word, “are we going to be learning how to play any instruments in this class?” The voice comes from a boy who seems naturally quiet and more reserved, mortified by the fact that he even found the courage to raise his hand and ask a question.

There’s a small roar of laughter from the others, but you look along stoically, watching his face upturn slightly.

“Don’t call me, sir—please,” He laughs lightly, “it makes me feel old.”

“Professor Munson,” He corrects himself, “sorry.”

“You’re fine,” He assures, “and look—this isn’t an intro to music, it’s intro to musical therapy. We’re not just studying instruments and music, we’re also studying behaviors, the mind, how all of this stuff connects and affects people’s thought process and aiding certain struggles they may have.”

His way of talking is animated and refreshing, a stark change from the usual monotone professors you’ve run into all morning.

“So, if you’re just expecting to learn how to play the piano or something, this class probably isn’t for you,” He explains, eyeing down about a quarter of the class that makes a collective groan, “hey—I’m just being honest.”

And you knew you wouldn’t see half of those people in a week, jumping at the first chance to transfer, but you couldn’t help being intrigued. It wasn’t necessarily your first choice for a major, but it took you by surprise; your love for psychology and mind studies mixed with your love of music, it seemed like the perfect storm. Plus, your professor wasn’t the worst person in the world—yet.

He easily snaps open the cuff links to his sleeves, rolling them halfway up his arm, revealing a rather striking depiction of bats, swarming around the expanse of his forearm.

He definitely seemed like a tattoo guy, but it was still odd to see so openly—his feet tap together as he takes a seat on the end of his desk, scanning the room. You can’t help but notice his lopsided tie, wanting so desperately to fix it—it was bound to drive you nuts.

“It’s probably best to get most of your question out of the way today,” He says, “so, shoot them at me while you have the opportunity.”

A few hands fly up, he points off to your right, a couple rows behind you.

“So—are you a therapist?”

He snorts a soft laugh, shaking his head, “No—I don’t have all the proper certifications, but I assist therapist a lot when they’re looking into doing stuff related to musical therapy. I know enough to get by.”

The smile he flashes leads you to believe that he’s trying to be humble.

“Do you play any instruments?” Another student asks freely, the heads of the rest of the class snapping in their direction.

“A few,” He answers, hand waving about in a noncommittal manner, “mostly just guitar.”

He adjusts his tie again, even more lopsided now and you can’t help but stare it down, focused on nothing but the black, shiny material of it—Eddie clears his throat softly, catching your attention.

He’s staring right at you, caught red-handed—quick, think of something—

“Who do you usually work with?” You ask suddenly, “In your line of work, I mean.”

Outside of being a professor, obviously.

Another laugh, more subdued. “Veterans, mostly, and a lot of children.”

Eddie claps his hands together very suddenly, startling most of the class, including yourself. “Anyways, let’s go over the syllabus so there’s no confusion—I don’t need you guys bugging me outside of my office hours, as much as I love to teach.”

You sense another jab coming, but it doesn’t.

The syllabus review is a breeze, setting you up for what most of the semester entails, including when he was available—again, making it very clear that he wasn’t available outside of office hours.

And then he’s adjusting the damn tie again, almost like it’s wringing his neck to death. By the time class ends, he dismisses everyone with a simple wave, a few students lingering around their desks, debating on whether they should drop the class or not.

The voice that trails from the front of the classroom as you take a step down catches your attention, pulling your head up to look at the culprit. “Staying or dropping?” He asks.

Professor Munson. It felt weird and unnatural as it rolled around in your mind, still not falling from your tongue.

“Staying,” You answer surely, “I knew what this class was before I signed up—I’m not about playing roulette with taking a college class.”

“Fair enough.” He’s leaning against his desk again, hands shoved into his slack pockets, shiny, gold watch resting on his wrist, and you can’t take it anymore, the frustration boiling from your chest

“Your tie,” You say abruptly, pointing at the material, “It’s crooked.”

Really fucking crooked.

He takes a glance down, finger slipping in the space between his tie and neck, pulling at the offense piece of clothing, loosening it until it’s snapping away.

He balls up the tie and tosses it behind me, landing messily on his desk. “I never wear those after the first day—hate them. They’re so stupid.”

“Or, you just don’t know how to tie a tie.” You point on, mouth speaking before your brain can catch up—realizing much too late that this was your professor, not a friend.

Eddie scoffs mockingly, “And I’m sure you do.” He counters, watching your face drop slightly.

You did, actually—but that wasn’t the point.

“No one ever taught me.” He tells you, “So I’m wingin’ it.”

You nod thoughtfully, surprised at how quickly you managed to embarrass yourself. “Oh.” You say simply, it’s all you can manage.

You save yourself for further humiliation by offering a wave of goodbye, breaking the uncomfortable tension that had grown between you both, excusing yourself immediately.

And if that was horrible enough, your night would be even worse.

☆.｡.:*

“The Hideout?” You ask curiously, twisting the flyer in your hand, “That place is still open?

Max snatches the paper from your hand, shoving it into the pocket of her jacket, protecting her from the biting cold of wind—the beginnings of Hawkins autumn weather creeping up on you.

It didn’t help that you were barely covered from the waist down, skirt leaving little to imagine as the slit ran high up your thigh, thankfully the long sleeve top you wore was enough to save your upper extremities.

“Nancy and Robin swear by that place—plus, they’ll be pissed if you don’t go.” Max explains in her usual ‘could care less’ tone.

The only reason she was going was because of Lucas—a boy she’d met during her first class that day, who she also invited out, despite barely knowing. You couldn’t blame her, though. Max could handle herself well enough, that was for sure.

The drive is long, further out of town than you expect—hidden on some rundown road on an empty corner, bare except for the small bar, yet the place was packed with cars.

“Okay, maybe this place isn’t as rundown as I remember,” You take note of, “or everyone really wanted to get drunk tonight.”

Either way, you were definitely heading toward the latter option, following closely after Max. It doesn’t take long for Max to be pulled away though, quickly distracted by the only reason she came here, abandoning you.

“Have fun,” You remind her, “seriously.”

You could take care of yourself, settling up at one of the empty tables before the stage, perched on the uncomfortably tall seat, ordering yourself a quick drink as a server passes you.

“Hey!” A perked up voice yells out from behind you, arms wrapping around in a gentle hug—no one had the nerve besides Robin, who quickly caught you in a fuller hug as you turned to face her. “How have you been? Where’s Max?”

“She’s busy,” You laugh, giving her a pointed look, which she catches on quickly. “Where’s Nance?”

“Right here,” Her delicate voice peaks out from behind Robin, watching as her hand sneaks into Nancy’s, squeezing firmly.

You smile to yourself, but Robin sees it, shoving you an annoyed look.

At least those two finally figured it out—almost ten years later.

“So, you two know who’s playing tonight?” You ask curiously, sipping on the beer that the server passes to you on their way through the crowd.

“Yeah, he’s an old friend—we haven’t seen him in a while, though.” They both frown at the mention of it, sharing a quiet glance. “We should’ve invited Steve, Nance.”

“He never wants to leave the house, you know that.” Nancy adds, “His kids keep him busy enough.”

And it seemed like Steve got the life he always wanted, for the most part—but it’s still somber to think about, wishing just as badly that you could’ve seen him once more.

“Maybe next time.” You offer, and both of them smile.

“I’ll have to remind him to invite you to his littlest’s party in a couple months,” Nancy says, “he misses you.”

The feedback startled all of you, pulling you from the conversation and toward the stage, light dimly over the center. The lights around the bar dimmed in contrast, adjusting everyone toward the men gathering in their places on stage.

You squinted carefully, watching the guitarist adjust the microphone, pulling it up to his height. His hair was long, unruly, and obscuring his face as he leaned forward, speaking into the microphone.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” He asks with a decent amount of enthusiasm, receiving a hearty applause in return. “We’re Corroded Coffin.”

The name blanks in your mind, not ringing any immediate bells.

It was definitely a crowd full of fans—or family, at least. They excitement was palpable, everyone leaning on the edge of their seats.

“This is our first show in a couple years, so go easy on us.” He laughs, head flicking up to move the hair out of his face—again, he spots you almost instantly.

The intake of breath is involuntarily, getting caught in your throat. The blush that creeps up your cheeks is hot and burning, noticeable from a mile away.

Eddie fucking Munson, your college professor—of all the chances and fate in the world this is how your night was going to go?

Eddie clears his throat, immediately averting his gaze. “We’re just doing cover songs tonight—so if you’ve got a request, send it through Gareth.” He instructs, jerking his head over his shoulder.

And despite how mortifying this all feels, Eddie plays his heart out; you’ve never seen anything like it. He’s a person who expresses himself through his body and his music, clearly—thrashing wildly and putting every movement he can into his playing, bouncing on his feet. He can’t be bothered to stay still, which is a complete difference from his classroom demeanor.

From what you’ve seen, at least.

“You good?” Robin asks, nothing the ghostly look on your face.

“Yeahyeah, uh—“ You reply distantly, “The lead looked familiar, but I think it’s a coincidence.”

One hell of a fucking coincidence.

“Eddie?” They both ask simultaneously, “There’s no way.”

Eddie Munson. Again, your professor—but also, a friend of a friend, and a complete fucking stranger otherwise. You must’ve pissed someone off well enough down the line to end up in this position; the biggest dose of karma you’ve ever felt.

“Like I said—it’s probably a coincidence.” You assure them, eyes still locked on him.

“Yeah—I don’t think we started hanging out with him until after you moved schools.” Nancy supplies, further attempting to assure you.

Eddie catches another glance at you and you can’t help but down the bottle of beer in one go, immediately leaving your seat to ask for another, leaving your friends to congregate at the table.

The song ends abruptly, falling off of a long guitar solo, and you can’t even dare to look in that direction, faced shoved into the drink you gripped in your hand.

“Come here, come here,” You hear Robin call from behind you, but you know it’s not for you, another rumbling voice slipping through the many others, a weak protest, “Stop being like that.”

There really was no arguing with Robin and Eddie was smart to keep quiet, following her obediently to the bar. The hand that clasps your shoulder is light and gentle and Nancy shoots you an apologetic look as you look behind you.

“Ringin’ any bells now?” Robin asks playfully, holding her hand up under his face, like he was on display. Eddie makes a face, side eyeing her affectionately.

“No, sorry,” You lie easily, shrugging him off. Eddie seems to relax at that, half-expecting you to out both him and yourself—not that there was anything wrong, it was just another freaky coincidence, “What’s his name again?”

And really, it’s just to poke fun, the slight buzz creeping into your system.

“Eddie Munson,” Nancy replies, glancing between the both of you, “Edward, if that helps.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at that, hand held up in desperation as he called out for a drink over your shoulder, reaching around you to grab the bottle. You visibly tense at the proximity and he notices, still, he doesn’t try to move away.

This was too weird.

“Nope, still nothing.” You tell them, sticking to your story.

Robin shrugs, “Well, I should probably explain—Nancy used to babysit her when she was younger, her and Max and all those crazy little kids that we always told you about—“

It made you wince; babysitter, Nancy, kids. It was the worst sequence of words that could’ve been spoken in history, to your professor, in the middle of a bar, that he was also playing at.

“Robin,” You warn, “I’m sure he doesn’t care.”

“Nah,” Eddie shrugs, leaned beside you against the bar, metal chain clinking against the counter-top, lifting the beer to his lips leisurely, “It’s nice to meet you.”

And the smile seems forced, but his voice is steady, easy—you almost believe him.

But, then Nancy and Robin are pulled off in a different direction, catching up with another small group of friends and Eddie is staring at you.

And not secretly—very, very openly.

“I swear I didn’t—“ You start.

“I don’t usually,” He interrupts.

You both take a hard stop, looking each other down.

“You first,” He instructs, bring the drink to his lips once more, “then I’ll go.”

“I swear I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight,” You explain, “otherwise I would’ve skipped out.”

He wants to ask why, but the answer seems obvious—no one wants to see their teacher outside of school.

“I don’t usually make a habit of letting my students see me like this.” He motions to his get-up, hair loose and clothes even looser, aside from the obviously homemade jacket he wore, patches hand stitched and worn at the seams, but the weirdest part of it all—the ripped jeans. It felt out of place for someone nearing their thirties. He catches your gaze, the judgement evident. “My point exactly.”

“So, that’s why you don’t know how to tie a tie.” You challenge, taking a long sip of beer, eyebrow quirked in amusement as you swallow, cheeks puffed out by the liquid.

He scoffs softly, amused at your comeback. “We shouldn’t even be talking right now, you know that?” He points out, yet he hasn’t moved an inch, still close enough that if you decided to separate your thighs, he’d fit perfectly.

You hum quietly, “Yet, you’re still here.” Another beer down, another slipped into your hand like clockwork, throwing it back easily. “So, who’s fault is that?”

Him being the responsible adult and all, not that it really mattered here. This would be a level playing field outside of any other circumstance.

“Wait—can I ask a personal question?” And maybe it was the alcohol talking.

“No—“ He answers quickly, but your brain bypasses it.

“How old are you?” You ask curiously, “You look too young to be a professor.”

Eddie looks stunned, affected by your forwardness, but he takes it in stride. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment—I’m twenty nine, a couple years older than Nancy and Robin.”

You don’t press on the additional information, but nod thoughtfully, taking another quick sip of your beer.

“Sorry—it was bugging me. I have a bad problem with filtering my thoughts.” You admit sheepishly, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, fiddling with the flimsy zipper on your skirt.

“Clearly,” Eddie laughs, bringing the bottle to his lips slowly, stopping just as his lips pressed the rim, “Are you even old enough to be drinking?”

“Are you going to kick me out if I’m not?” You challenge playfully, Eddie doesn’t bite, looking you down accusingly.

It was as if he suddenly shifted back into teacher mode, judging your choices and feeling the need to scold you.

“I’m twenty one,” You tell him, “don’t have a fucking stroke over it.”

You don’t know why Eddie’s eyes shift, scanning full body, like he’s trying to take all of you in—both of your contrasting styles outside of school are a welcomed surprise; he doesn’t really expect it from you. But, you could say the same for him.

“Wasn’t gonna,” He assures you, nursing the beer near his mouth, forearms leaned against the bar now as he looks toward you, eyes catching the way your fingers fiddled with the label on the bottle, “you cold?”

Your leg crosses over the other, goosebumps riddling your skin—it’s like he’s a mind reader, the entrance door of the bar swinging open, a cold blast of air spreading throughout. “Not really.” You lie, gripping the end of your skirt to shift it down.

You could’ve been more practical, shown up in jeans and some worn out band shirt, but you wanted to look nice—feel cute and dressed up for once, was that a crime?

“Hey, there you are,” Max calls from behind you, scattering toward you with a wide-eyed Lucas in tow, “so you met Eddie?”

You turn in your seat, staring the fiery redhead down, a smile plastered on her freckle covered face.

“You too?” You ask incredulously, glancing toward Eddie, who seemed rather unfazed by it all now. “What the hell?”

“He used to live across from me, back in high school,” Max explains, which makes sense.

You moved after middle school, leaving most of Hawkins in your rear view, aside from the occasional letters to Max—both of you swore that despite the distance, college was your nonnegotiable; both of you applied, both of you got accepted, it was some sort of divine miracle, but neither of you questioned it.

“Small world,” Eddie shrugs from beside you, finishing off the last sip of his beer, “you staying out of trouble, Red?”

“Probably not,” She replies honestly, before turning to you sheepishly, “—do you think Robin will give you a ride home?”

“Max,” You groan, her look switching from hesitant to pleading, “fine—whatever, I’ll talk to Robin.”

“I love you,” She says endearingly, wrapping you into a quick forceful hug, nearly knocking you from your chair, “I owe you one.”

“Uh huh,” You reply sarcastically, waving her away, “See you tomorrow.”

When you turn, Eddie is slapping a fresh bill on the counter-top, returning his chained wallet back to his pocket.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you Monday.”

Saying it makes it even weirder.

“I won’t tell anyone.” You assure him, seeing the way his eyes catch yours, almost thankful. He doesn’t have to say it—he didn’t take you for the type to brag, but still, it’s a comforting confession. “I promise.”

The last part feels like too much, but Eddie smiles regardless, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders, preparing for the crisp, cold air that awaits him.

Robin, find Robin. Your brain scrambled, searching around for your friend—or Nancy, but neither of them are anywhere inside of the bar.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks softly, pulling the hair caught under the lapel of his jacket.

“I think they left,” You frown slightly, preparing yourself to walk several blocks until the nearest bus station, feet already sore and achy from the uncomfortable heels you wore, “Robin and Nance.”

And Eddie has the internal battle with himself for at least half a minute, weighing the odds of how uncomfortable this could be, or how creepy it may come off, but he wasn’t going to leave you high and dry—he wasn’t raised that way.

“Where am I taking you?” He asks suddenly, swinging his keys into his palm.

“Huh?” There was no way you were taking a ride from your teacher, of all people. “—I’m fine, really. I just need to walk far enough to the bus stop.”

“In those?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring down at the heels that hugged your feet like a vice grip, already sore from only a couple hours of use. “It’s not a big deal—are you going back to campus?”

You nod hesitantly.

Eddie motions toward the door and you follow obediently—your feet could thank you later. You knew there was no harm in a ride home, either, Eddie was far from the normal sketchy men around Hawkins, but it didn’t feel right. It felt like keeping a secret from your parents and doing something that had persistently told you not to, or how often the school system looked down on relations with staff outside of school, no matter the level or severity. It seemed that Eddie was hoping you’d keep this to yourself—he was counting on it.

☆.｡.:*

“Did you enjoy the music at least?” Eddie asks halfway through the drive, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other fishes for his pack of cigarettes; a bad habit he’d yet to break.

“I mean—they were cover songs,” You shrugged, “Metallica is alright, but I prefer Bon Jovi and Quiet Riot—“

“Are you shitting on Metallica, right now?” Eddie asks, shocked by the admission. He manages to wiggle a cigarette out with one hand, tossing the box toward the middle console, “Do you mind?”

Part of you wants to say yes, just to be difficult, but you shake your head. He flicks his lighter opening, lighting the end of the cigarette until it burns a bright amber, ashes falling from the tip.

“You dress like you’re stuck in the eighties, dude.” Eddie seems offended by the comment, but takes it in stride.

“Says the lady who still listens to Bon Jovi.” Eddie sharks, pulling the cigarette from his lips, smoke billowing from his nose as he breathes, “

You hate how nice it is to watch, his soft lips pursing into a tight line. One more hit at him and he’d probably fail you out of spite, but you do it anyway.

“Says the guy still singing eighties cover songs.” Eddie winces at the jab, flicking away the ash from the cigarette, held out in the air as he searches for his retort.

“So you hated it?” Is all his brain can muster at a time like this, brain hazy from the amount of beers he consumed—you could say the same for yourself, the alcohol buzz is still ever apparent—you wouldn’t have ended up in a situation like this while stone cold sober, that’s for sure.

“No,” You reply honestly. The music was good, the performance was even better, but still—it seemed he was searching for your approval, like it would make all the difference, “but it’s the mid nineties, you need to get with the times.”

Eddie scoffs offensively, a few more puffs before he’s rubbing the cigarette to its untimely demise, pulling into the quiet campus.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” He says, coming to a stop, “—I hope this is close enough, the last thing I need is someone catching me dropping you off.”

Then he shouldn’t have offered a ride, which was his first mistake of many.

It’s offensive how handsome he looks under the dim lights radiating from the inside of his van—an odd choice for a teacher of his salary, but it still makes sense, somehow.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sir.” You retort, throwing the last bit in for fun—he tenses again, visibly. He doesn’t correct you, though, which is even more difficult to understand.

He offers a simple wave, friendly and polite, then he’s gone and halfway across the campus before you can even process what happened.

It also doesn’t help that the first thing you see in your dreams that night is his face—ungodly in the way he worshiped your body, from head to toe; it was definitely the alcohol talking.

☆.｡.:*

Monday drags more than you expect, having nursed your hangover during the weekend, it felt like an aftershock was trying to overtake you, your focus lacking. It wasn’t unlike you.

You replay the conversation with Eddie in your head a few times that weekend, realizing that even through your drunken haze, Eddie was not attempting to be teacherly toward you—he was friendly, a natural conversationalist, it felt wrong.

It felt even worse when you fell asleep, his head stuck between your thighs as you dreamed that night, “She’s so pretty,” His voice is faded, muffled—like he’s stuck in a tunnel and too far away, “fucking soaking wet, too.”

And it feels too real as he licks a broad stripe up your cunt, moaning obscenely as his face is coated in your wetness, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit—it’s too much for you to process.

“Good afternoon,” Eddie’s voice carries through the door to his classroom, satchel and coffee in hand, looking just as worse for wear. His hair is tied back in a loose bun, no tie today, and his slacks look like they’re been worn for a week straight, wrinkles and all, “nice to see the class has downsized.”

It has, nearly half of the original class is gone—which really, it was better for you. You couldn’t focus in large classes and it felt less personal, more disconnected than you liked.

Eddie tries desperately to keep his energy up during the duration of the lesson, but he’s lacking on all fronts—maybe he had a rough weekend?

When he hands out the first assignment near the end of class, he stops by your desk, leaning on the railing to speak to the entirety of the class, “And don’t freak out—this is just a basis to see where you heads are at in terms of what music you like, how it makes you feel, it’s just a soft introduction into some of the stuff we’ll be covering over the semester.”

It’s a list of various songs, bands, genres—a mix of things dating back to the early fifties, up until more recently. “Go out, rent some of this if you’ve never heard of it, and write what you feel—that’s it. Easy enough?”

Eddie doesn’t acknowledge you most of the class, which is expected, but disappointing. He seems preoccupied, distracted, clearly bothered by something. But, it wasn’t your problem—the only focus you had now was your course work, which was the first thing you started on that night; a very giddy Max rummaging through your dorm room as background noise, so disorganized it could drive you insane.

“He drove you here?” She asks.

“Yes—but you can’t say anything, Max. I’m serious.”

You didn’t have anything to worry about, you knew that.

“I didn’t even know he taught here—or that he was even a professor. I mean, I know he finally graduated but—“

“Finally?” You ask curiously, swiveling in your chair to face her fully, interest fully piqued.

“He had a rough time in high school—he didn’t graduate until he was twenty, I think.” She explains, busy hands now stopped in their tracks. “He’s been through a lot.”

Your eyebrows raise in question, hoping Max would spill everything she knew—you couldn’t help but be curious about him, even if he was your professor.

“He probably doesn’t even know I go here,” She laughs slightly, “His mom and dad were never in the picture, though—at least I never saw them, it’s always been him and his uncle. He hung out with Nancy, Steve, and Robin a lot—closer to when he was graduating, they’ve stayed good friends, I guess.”

You nod slowly, absorbing the information.

“Is he mean?” Max asks randomly and you almost laugh, “My professors are the worst.”

“He’s fine,” You shrug, “It’s kinda nice that he’s not such a dick, you know?”

“What does he teach again?”

“Musical therapy?” You respond, wondering if that would surface any other tidbits of information.

“Oh—that kinda makes sense. He was always listening to music, then he just disappeared after graduation, but his uncle always talked about how he was helping people, doing something he really liked—I just never bothered him about it.”

There’s a long silence before Max can’t help herself, perching herself on the surface closest to you, pens scrambling to the floor as she takes a seat on the edge of your shared desk.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“The weather,” You say flatly, not receiving any type of reaction from her, “—-just music, that’s it.”

“But, babe, you love music.” Max reminds, like it wasn’t painfully obvious.

“And—he’s my professor, it’s fucking weird.” You explain, but even Max doesn’t believe you. “What—why are you looking at me like that?”

“You two are so similar,” She laughs, “It’s freaky.”

“Maxine—what are you trying to imply?”

“Nothing,” She shrugs, hoping from the desk, “—remember that I’ll be your maid of honor at the wedding, though. We pinky swore.”

“He’s my professor, Max.” You stress again, Max smiles wide, annoying you further.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, right?” Max asks, realizing that you’d used the same playful jab at him the night before.

“What?” The coincidence was uncanny.

“Eddie used to tell me that whenever I tried to justify doing something I wasn’t supposed to—I’ve grown, obviously,” That’s not entirely believable, but you keep your mouth shut, “the saying stuck with me—it’s kinda fun to use.”

“Whatever—did you get the music I asked about?” You ask, impatiently switching the topic to something less scandalous.

“Everything was spoken for,” Max explains, trying to let you down gently, “I really tried—but I guess everyone in that class had the same idea on where to go, unless you want to take a trip to the store and buy them—“

And it dawns on you, Eddie must have some sort of music collection, “Wait—what time is it?”

Max takes a quick glimpse at the alarm clock on her nightstand, “A quarter past five, why?”

Still open for office hours—you prayed silently, despite your lack of religion, hoping that he was still in his classroom.

“Give me a ride.”

Max doesn’t question it, being the best friend she is.

☆.｡.:*

“I’m busy,” He says before you can even knock on the door, your loud ascending footsteps giving you away, “come back in the morning.”

You peek through the window of the door anyways, seeing a perfectly relaxed Eddie reclined at his desk, feet propped up as he jotted something down in a book, tongue poked out in focus.

“Uh Professor…Munson,” It felt foreign and weird, “I just had a question.”

His demeanor changes on a dime at the sight of you, unbusying himself completely. It’s a little hysterical, but endearing nonetheless. It makes your stomach flutter at the sight, scrambling to button his shirt higher, seem more professional, not that you hadn’t already seen him outside of work.

The door creaks open, his head popping through as you back away, “What’s going on?” He asks, surprised that anyone would dare to bother him outside of normal class hours. It doesn’t take you long to realize that he only mentioned the office hours out of courtesy, he didn’t actually expect anyone to bother him.

“I was trying to work on your assignment—“ His eyes softened, and it made you flinch, feeling exposed, “I don’t really have the money to buy any of the music and everything was already rented out—-so I wasn’t sure what to do.”

“Oh,” He wasn’t sure what to expect but he finds himself opening the door wider, welcoming you inside, “Yeah—a few students raided my shelf before class was over but I’m sure there’s some left.”

“Thanks,” You reply shyly, squeezing beside him, watching as he lingered by the door still, hands shoved into fists in his pockets, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, sir—“

“You can call me Eddie—here, at least.” And that definitely doesn’t feel appropriate, but if he’s insisting, well…

“Sorry, it just feels…strange, I guess.” It’s not how you wanted to describe it, but it’s the only word that comes to mind. “I can’t imagine how weird it is running into your students outside of class.”

“Probably as weird as it feels running into your teacher,” He adds playfully, lightening the mood. It’s nice that he’s not so bothered by all of it, “Oh—I’ve got some Elvis in there, a lot of classic rock. I’m not sure about the newer stuff, though.”

“Max has some of it.” You comment without thinking, sifting through the box of music, picking and choosing as you went.

“Max?”

“She’s—she’s my roommate here.” You answer quietly, unable to meet his eyes as he walks closer, leisurely making his way around his desk.

“I guess I should’ve put that together,” He says, taking a moment to examine the sweater you’d shoved on, “You two share a closet?”

“Among other things.” You smile, grasping the stack of Cd's in your hand, “How did you know?”

You share a glance down at the faded sweater, reading off the name of some random skate shop back in rural Hawkins, a place you’ve never stepped foot inside of.

“I got that for Red on her sixteenth birthday, before I left.”

Eddie’s frowning now, nearly unnoticeable, but you see the way his mouth creases, eyes turned down. “It’s her favorite,” You say, in an attempt to make the mood less dark, “but I always steal it from her—she’s let me take residency over it at this point.”

“It looks nice,” Eddie says suddenly, feeling the slip up as it slides off his tongue, rambling even further as he says, “on you—I mean, it’s a nice sweater—that’s why I bought it.”

You laugh softly, bottom lip jutting out as your mouth curls into a smile. “Thanks, Eddie.”

He scratched at his temple, ringed finger shining against the light refracting from the lamp on his desk. You’ve never noticed it before—or them, since his hand was adorned with three, that you could see.

“Hey, those are cool—“ You point out, finger pressed in the direction of his upheld hand. He stops, views his hand, almost like he’s forgotten he was wearing them, “I’ve noticed them before.”

“I try not to wear them during class hours, the administration thinks it’s unprofessional.” The nature of the rings, not the fact that he wore them—if he had a wedding ring it wouldn’t matter, but the thought of marriage made Eddie want to vomit.

“Fuck ‘em.” You say crudely, shoulder shrugged In indifference.

Eddie’s mouth hangs open slightly at the sudden outburst, amusement flooding his face, “I’m still your professor—probably should keep that type of language to a minimum.”

You snort at his indication that he had any type of hold over what you do—he couldn’t be further from the point.

“Or what?” You say challengingly, “This isn’t high school—it’s not like you can give me detention or tell my parents.”

“I am the one handling your grades.” He counters, hip leaned against the edge of his desk. Your free hand travels to your waist, slipping underneath the sweater to rest against the skin.

“You don’t intimidate me—I hope you know that.” You remind him carefully, eyes narrowing in his direction. “The other’s are terrified of you, but that shit doesn’t work on me.”

And he should know better—you shouldn’t even be here and he definitely should be flirting with a student, if you could call it that. Was this flirting? Was this crossing the line? He’s studied body language for a long time, through the process of his treatment of people, and he can’t help but notice how relaxed you seem, almost enjoying the back and forth.

“You should go,” He says quickly, avoiding any further lines being blurred or crossed or misconstrued; you were his student and it was unprofessional, “my office hours are closing soon.”

“Uh huh.” You nod slowly, adjusting the stack of music under your arm, watching the way Eddie’s fingers drum against the desk impatiently, like he can’t wait to get you out of there.

If he was really that bothered, he could’ve said something.

“Thanks again, professor.” You say with grandeur, motioning to the stack of Cd's, “It’s greatly appreciated.”

Eddie tries to ignore the small sliver of skin that shows underneath your slightly raised top that was no longer obscured by your hand, almost like you’re doing it on purpose.

Which, yes, you absolutely were.

You slip by him silently, avoiding the way his eyes follow you. It felt predatorial, but not uncomfortable—and that’s what you hated about it.

He didn’t look at you as a student—he looked at you like something else; you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Eddie turns on the heels of his shoes, “I expect those back tomorrow,” He warns, but there’s no sense of actual ramifications behind it.

You don’t answer fully, a small nod that Eddie doesn’t quite notice. He grabs the sleeve of your sweater gently, his fingertips pressing against your covered arm. “I mean it.”

You look at the hand that gripped your arm for far too long, Eddie still holding on just as hard. “I know.” You appease him, “And if I don’t—you know where to find me.”

The glance to your desk is silent, but done in unison.

“Wanna let go now, sir?”

Eddie hates the way his dick twitches under the material of his corduroy slacks, releasing the bunch of material from his grip. You half-expect him to scold you for the remark, but he’s speechless, for once in his life.

“Sorry,” He apologizes, feeling like he’s made things uncomfortable, but it’s so far from that—he has no idea, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“On time, hopefully.”

It’s just another playful comment, but it has Eddie gripping his thigh from the inside of his pocket, muscles tensed in frustration.

You leave with a wordless smile that’s burned into Eddie’s mind for the rest of mankind—and it’s definitely not the first thing he thinks about when he slips his boxers down his thighs that night, cock still half-hard from earlier in the evening.

☆.｡.:*

He becomes a permanent fixture in your dreams as the weeks grow on, unbeknownst to him—not that he can say much for himself either, annoyed by the finite nerve you have to walk into his classroom, skirt pulled halfway up your waist, ass barely peeking out of the bottom of the pleated material.

He knows it’s wrong and going against all of the rules set it place for this very reason, but he can’t help himself. So, he suffers in silence—not that it was anything new to him, he’s done it his entire life; under different circumstances and situations perhaps, but the basics of it still remained.

“Fuck—spread your legs,” His voice is hushed, quiet against the skin of your leg as he sucks a deep purple mark into the skin, jerking at the touch of cold metal, the outside of his rings grazing your thighs, “wanna taste you.”

It feels too real—you toss and turn in your sleep restlessly most nights, dreaming about your professor with his hands around your thighs and his mouth buried deep into your cunt.

And with little to no interaction during class, aside from the occasional glance in your direction, he kept his distance—which wasn’t a surprise, he had no idea.

He had no idea that his student was practically pining after him. It doesn’t help that you’ve seen him outside of the classroom, dress downed and free of an inhibitions or rules; it was a special kind of torture.

It’s late October when Eddie speaks to you directly, alone—he’s got most of the class set up on various different instruments of their choosing, allowing them to feel them out and play freely, and somehow—by some fucked up fate, you get stuck with a six string and not a clue how to play.

Fake playing wasn’t working, Eddie could spot it from a mile away. You don’t chance the glance up at him, but the squeak of his shoes is enough warning, bracing for whatever remark was going to be sent your way.

“Have you ever played before?” He says instead and your eyes immediately shoot up to him, all previous restraint thrown out the window.

“No, not really.” You say truthfully, watching as Eddie pulled up a chair in front of you, facing the back of it in your direction, thigh swinging over the side—his jeans tightening with the action, along with your thighs. You really needed to get your shit together.

“Here,” His hands come out to rest over yours, adjusting your left hand over the base of the guitar, your right hand around the neck, “This is A,” He presses your finger over the cord, instructing your other hand to strum.

It’s slightly out of tune, but the guitar seems old—probably provided by the college rather than Eddie himself, “That’s good,” He praises calmly, “Now try playing an A sharp,” He guides your hand further down the neck, the warm, rough skin of his hand covering your own. He feels tough and worn and you notice the small cuts around his fingertips at this proximity, breath catching as his hand grasps around the wrist that was actively strumming the guitar, “it’s really complicated at first, there’s a lot to learn.”

“Clearly,” You say, forcing down the smile that threatened to break through, “how long have you played?”

He seems surprised that you cared or even tried to ask.

“Since I was about twelve, probably.” He answers honestly, “More than half my life.”

Eddie still hasn’t moved his hands, either—he can’t be bothered. It doesn’t look as incriminating as you thought, but still, you knew. He helps you play through a few more notes until he’s gotten you to the point of playing a small, five second tone—but it’s all you can really manage.

“It takes a while.” He assures you, not that you wanted to pick up a guitar again after this.

“Why don’t you play?” You ask sweetly, smiling flashing with nothing but devious intent, handing the guitar over toward your professor.

“Nono—I’m really not—“ He protests, setting the guitar back on its stand beside you.

“Not what? That good?” You ask curiously, he was worse at lying to himself than he was to you.

“Are we forgetting how I saw you play that night?” You ask quietly, nothing how his gaze lingered with yours, “Because if that wasn’t you then—“

He gives you a muted look of warning, wanting you to drop the topic of conversation, but you can’t be bothered. He wasn’t in charge of you, not really.

“You can play a Dio song blindfolded, I bet,” You point out, still keeping enough of a hushed town that only Eddie can hear, “Your eyes were closed that entire set.”

“It was my first time back home in a while,” He defends lamely, “It helps with the nerves.”

“I thought it was really good.”

Eddie’s eyes light up in a way you can’t ignore, bordering on shock and adoration, it’s the first real smile you’ve seen from him.

The end of class comes quicker than you want it to, forced to pack your belongings back into your bag in a rush, everyone’s already managed to file out before you can even think of zipping your bag up.

“Hey,” Eddie calls out, every other student already long gone, “here, take this.”

It’s a flyer, similar to the one Max shoved into your hands a few weeks prior.

A different bar, same band; one night only.

“I’m probably breaking a thousand rules by giving you that,” He explains carefully, “but maybe you and Max could come out and watch us play—tell her I’ll even throw in some free Kate Bush.”

Your smile is warm, folding the flyer and stuffing it into your pocket. “I told you—I’m not the type to blab, Eddie.”

You hate how easy it feels to say his name in such a setting, still dressed up in his ridiculous attempt at seeming studious and professional. You knew he hated it, he knew it too.

“I can ask her—if not, I’ll still show.” You tell him.

He was only inviting Max to be courteous, but that wasn’t up for him to decide whether or not you actually brought her along. Either way, he was appreciative. He knew that a lot of the support he received back home was mostly done out of obligation and sympathy, but with—it felt real. He didn’t know you, he didn’t have anything to prove to you, and more importantly, you were genuine and honest; he hated that you took up this class. Hated it.

“It’s not a big deal if you can’t.” He offers as an out.

There was no way you were going to miss it, not with how Eddie was looking at you now; despite the circumstance, it was so blatantly obvious to you how badly you wanted him.

“Eddie, I’ll be there.” You assure him once more.

And if the smile that spreads over his face isn’t something worth worshiping, you’d surely find something else.

☆.｡.:*

The bar is small, on the complete opposite side of town—but Max still offers to drive you, but it’s definitely not for your own benefit. She hasn’t shut up about Eddie since you’d told her the situation, the weird looks he gives you, and the horrible filthy dreams you’ve been having; sans the super embarrassing details. She gets it—it’s incredibly amusing to her, but she gets it.

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” You asks, fingers tapping nervously against the ripped denim of your jeans, frayed material pulled between your fingertips. “He did invite you.”

“Babe, I’m doing you a favor.” Max interjects, halfhearted smirk on her face.

“He’s my teacher—for the last time,” You begin, beyond desperation, the words falling from your tongue weren’t even believable to your own ears, “I’m not trying to fuck him, Max.”

“I did not say anything about fucking him,” She laughs amusingly, turning into the parking lot of the bar, “—it’s just not as weird as you’re making it out to be. I’ve known Eddie for a long time.”

“You’re really missing the point.” You say, rubbing the frustration on your face away with your hands, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

“Oh whatever, don’t tell me you suddenly have some strict moral compass,” Max replies flippantly, “you want to screw him and you know it.”

The suspense is enough of an answer. There was no lying to Max, she knew just about every deepest, darkest secret you carried.

She pulls to a stop outside the entrance, turning toward you carefully, “Also—I can’t pick you up so you’re gonna have to ask him for a ride. I love you.” She rambled it off in one breath, barely giving you time to process. “See you tomorrow?”

It’s the one fight you decide not to pick with her, because for some reason, you know it’s for your own good.

“Hey—you made it!” The familiar voice calls from behind you—Eddie, guitar case in hand, the rest of his band mates in tow. “Red.” He acknowledges, offering her a nod. “There’s parking in the back.”

“Oh—I’m not staying,” She shouts from the driver’s side, “take care of her or I’ll murder you, Munson.”

Max is pulling off before you have any last fleeting chance to run, leaving both you and Eddie at a loss for words.

“Pulled a fast one, didn’t she?” Eddie asks after a moment, gathering by your side, following you into the bar. “She’s sneaky as hell, I’ll give her that.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” You huff softly, watching your step as you crossed the threshold, hit in the face with the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer.

“A beaut, isn’t she?” Eddie asks sarcastically, but despite that, the bar still garnered a decent amount of attention, packed to the brim with older gentlemen—nothing like bars near campus.

“I think I found your target audience,” You joke lightly, catching the smirk that crosses Eddie’s face as you glance over your shoulder. “I’ll fit right in.”

Eddie slaps a twenty into your hand, “Here, drinks on me—since I forced you here,” You look at him reluctantly, “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I didn’t plan on drinking tonight.” You insist, forcing the bill back into his hand, “I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” He asks, eyeing you carefully, like he’s trying to find a hint or tell, something to figure out what exactly your mind was fighting against—which right now, it was the fact that Eddie looked ridiculous with eyeliner, yet, still criminally attractive.

It’s exactly why you shouldn’t have come tonight, because whatever could happen—you weren’t sure if you had it in you to shut down.

You nod with finality. Eddie takes the money back reluctantly, stuffing it into his front pocket. He feels terrible that you have to sit there, alone—all to watch a shitty cover band play a few songs.

But to you, it was worth it.

You sit and wait, forcing away the bartender a few times until he finally gets the message, leaving you be. It’s quiet, aside from the hum of laughter and idle conversation, Eddie and his group setting up silently onstage—that impending feeling in your gut expanding further as you watch him move around, guitar strap swung over his neck, watching shamelessly as he adjusts the instrument against his body.

He catches your eyes then, sending you a cheeky smile that has you face burning on the spot—at this point, you care less about your professional relationship, if it could even be considered that.

Eddie plays with all the gusto you expect, belting out lyric after lyric on his performance high; it’s unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed. It’s hard not to compare him to his classroom demeanor, more restrained and relaxed—it was forced, that was easy to tell. But this—this was Eddie, unafraid and free to behave how he pleased, it was unfair how attractive he was, both in looks and personality. It felt like you’d know him longer than just a few weeks; months maybe? Years?

It was like hanging out with an old friend, discovering new and old things about one another; you’d spill your heart to him at a moment’s notice if he asked—and that’s why this felt so dangerous.

☆.｡.:*

“How was it?” Eddie asks as he rounds the corner, still slightly out of breath and face covered in a sheen of sweat. You hand him a napkin in silence and he laughs, but accepts the offer.

“Good,” You smile honestly, “I really enjoyed the gradual crescendo from Holy Diver into Living After Midnight—“

Eddie could kiss you on the spot, which is such a startling thought that it stops all thinking completely—you were absolutely too good to be true, it was a constant reminder every time you spoke, making him fight with this taboo feeling more and more every day.

“Do you still need a ride home?” He asks suddenly, interrupting your waterfall of compliments, “I was going to head out already.”

“Well, considering Max left me stranded,” You say with an empty bitterness, knowing that her attentions were mostly good, “yes, I do.”

Eddie nods a silent direction—and just like the first night, you follow without question.

☆.｡.:*

The foot that isn’t pressed on the gas pedal is shaking insistently, leg bouncing against the leather of Eddie’s seat, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He can hear you humming, mumbling the song on the radio to yourself, another classic—one of Eddie’s favorites, and he really can’t help himself anymore.

It was just a small, innocent indulgence. Who could it really hurt? You were both consenting, capable adults—and the worst thing you could do was turn him down, which Eddie really hoped wasn’t the case, but he was beyond caring about norms and rules, driven by the pure fact that he just wanted—wanted you, in any sense of the word.

“What are you doing?” You ask curiously, watching as Eddie searched idly through his stack of music, somehow still managing his focus on the road.

“Changing the song,” He comments simply, pushing the disc into the player—the soft synth of the song pushing through the speakers of his van, “do you know it?”

“Corey Hart, right?” You ask, taking a wild guess. You’d only heard the song once, but it was still catchy enough that it stuck around in your brain, “I didn’t picture you as the type.”

“You’d be surprised.” He comments oddly, turning the volume up slightly.

He notices the humming again, the small head bop along to the beat. “You like it.”

It’s more of a statement, rather than a question. You catch the side of his face, the small glint in his eye as he focuses back on the road.

“That's presumptuous of you,” You retort, hands twisting in your lap, “it’s alright, I guess.”

“Mind if I do a little study?” He asks hesitantly, breath catching in your throat for half a second.

“Of me?” You ask with a laugh, “I mean—if you want?”

“Your heart is racing, for one,” Eddie points out slyly, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest as the beat picked up, chorus running through the silence that filled the air, “and you’re squeezing your hands.”

“Okay, genius,” You remark, “You’ve got eyes, good for you.”

He’s not really using his degree in this situation, it’s more of an innocent observation of the already underlying tension that Eddie couldn’t help but notice—the obvious body language giving you away. The song was just a secret favorite of his, but you didn’t need to know that, not yet.

“Mind I make one?” You ask, “An observation, I mean.”

What was the harm in it anyways? Eddie nods for you to continue.

“You’ve been shaking your leg since we left.” You point out, the bouncing coming to an abrupt stop, “and I’ve never seen you do that—ever.”

“It’s the after performance buzz.” He replies cooly, but you can’t be bothered to believe it. “It’s not that unusual.”

“Eddie—you’re making that up,” You tell him, eyeing burning into the side of his face, “what’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah—why are you lying?” It’s a bold question to ask, heart fluttering in your chest. But, the way he looks at you has your legs crossing in frustration, squeezing together to relieve that ache growing between your legs.

“So, you want to pretend I didn’t notice that either?” He asks, eyeing the full expanse of your body before stopping on your legs, still firmly crossed in the seat, hands white knuckling each other under the long sleeves of your shirt. “Uncross your legs.”

“What? No.” You scoff, offended by his forwardness for a brief moment.

Eddie slips his hand under your knee wordlessly, prying your legs apart. You can’t help but look at him as if he’s lost his fucking mind—that doesn’t stop your legs from following his order. It made the ache that much worse.

“Don’t,” He warns hesitantly, the small shift in your leg giving you away, “it’s not gonna help.”

“Help what?” You reply dumbly, “I can’t cross my legs? Is that a crime?”

Eddie’s gaze lingers for far too long, noticing the flush of your chest and the way it creeps up your cheeks—they felt like they were on fire. In the midst of all the back and forth, it’s hard to keep focus on the main fact at play—teacher, student, your mind screaming, wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“I can help.” He makes a subtle nod toward you.

It didn’t take a genius to know what he was talking about. You were very well aware of the issue. You want to weigh your options, come up with some stupid reason to wiggle out if the situation—but nothing comes to mind. The way Eddie’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel has you digging your nails into your own thigh—you’re going to cave, you can feel it.

“Eddie.” You warn, watching as his hands lingers toward the gear shift, resting against the cracked and worn down plastic covering.

“Our secret, right?” He teases, like this whole situation wasn’t built on secrecy. You nod willingly, legs spreading a few inches wider. His fingers trail the seam of your jeans, stopping on the button, popping it open with deft fingers. “Move this way—yeah, there.”

And when his fingers breach the seam of your underwear, your mind sings a soft praise of release, watching as his hand forces its way into the tight space, leaving him no other option but to cup your cunt with his full palm.

There was no turning back now.

His middle finger drags through your folds testingly, matching the slow undulating beat of the song, like this was a game to him. You have no idea how to handle your hovering hands, too afraid to touch him, so they wrap around the headrest behind your head, fingers gripped tightly together.

Your legs spread wider, giving him better access—you were rutting into his hand at the shift of position, feeling that familiar tingle of pleasure as it shot through your body, mixed with the feeling of a bite of forbidden fruit, avoiding Eddie’s heated gaze as he shifted between you and the road.

It feels reckless and stupid, but you can’t find the courage to stop.

The first dip of his finger is like heaven, feeling unfamiliar after so long, despite how often you touched yourself, you couldn’t remember the last time there had ever been anyone else but you—not since the first summer after you graduated; freshly eighteen and naive, letting a much older man have you how he wanted—it’s uncanny, the situation your in now. But this, it doesn’t feel like that.

“Fuck—“ Your voice catches, stomach clenching at the curl of his middle finger as it slipped inside of you and back out, pace so insufferably slow, “—need more.”

“There she is,” He smiles to himself, confidence oozing in his tone, “—shit, you’re such a liar.”

It takes you a minute to realize that he’s not talking to you at all—which sends you down a different wave of emotions, pussy clenching around his lone finger, gasping at the way he curls it against the soft walls of your cunt, searching desperately for something out of reach.

“How long has it been like this?” He asks curiously.

Since the moment you met him, is what you want to say.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You reply breathlessly, back arching away from the seat, cunt pressing further against his hand as he slips a second finger inside.

At the lie, Eddie stops without warning, and it gives you a headache, that slow build of pleasure deflating immediately.

“The truth,” He says, though, it’s more of a demand, “tell me.”

And fuck, if you weren’t putty in this man’s rough, calloused hands.

“Since earlier,” You reply, rewarded with the soft brush of a fingertip over your clit, you quickly unzip your jeans to allow for more room, “when I saw you onstage.”

Eddie’s groan in response tells you everything you need to hear. He slows to a stop at a red light and it’s the first real glance you share with him the entire evening, both of you seeing straight through each other, bodies overran with pleasure.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” He says, and it seems a little late for a realization like that, you can’t help but laugh, “what—you think it’s funny?”

“You’re the one with your hand down my pants, sir.” You retort, earning a disciplined squeeze as he shoves his two middle most fingers back into your cunt, molding around him like glue.

“Sorry—I know you hate that word,” You say playfully, “But do you mind if I use it? Or, do you prefer professor?”

It was your turn to play into the guilt he was feeling, though it didn’t seem to be concerning if he still had his hands shoved down your pants so willingly.

“Shut up,” He forces out, swerving slightly at the way you cunt clenched around his fingers, insides fluttering as he curves his fingers wildly, grazing that sweet spot deep inside of you, “don’t call me that.”

His hands were larger than yours, making up for all the work you missed out on.

“Too far?” You ask teasingly, knowing that was the least of your worries; all moral lines crossed, blurred, forgotten about entirely. Eddie’s fingers pull back to graze over the sensitive nub, rubbing in small, leisurely circles, “Fuck that—that feels—“

Your moan is so unashamed that it surprises you, hips bucking up into his hands as you nearly leapt out of the seat.

Eddie can’t take the suffering much longer, pulling off onto the winding side road, tucked into a nest of trees. He unbuckles his seatbelt, allowing fuller access as he turns toward you, switching his hands with practiced ease—you couldn’t even open your eyes, face drawn up in pleasure. You knew the moment you looked at him you were done for.

“Look at me,” His voice echoes alongside the melodic tune of the song, his fingers matching the catchy beat—the damn music aficionado he was, toying with you, fingers strumming against your swollen clit like the strings of his guitar, “—I said, look at me.”

Your body works for you, eyes opening on instinct—his voice was rough, authoritative, leaving no room for argument.

“Good girl—It’s what you wanted, right?” He asks with a semblance of a smirk on his face, “It’s why you came tonight?”

You laugh weakly at his words, double entendre, unable to go unnoticed, “As far as I’m concerned, no one’s came tonight.”

His eyes darken, shifting toward your cunt, covered by your clothes, his wrist poking out above the thin material of your underwear.

“You can stop—stop acting like this is my fault,” You hiccup, gasping as he applies heavy pressure to your clit, rubbing steadily, hating how shameful it feels as your cunt clenches around nothing, wishing his fingers were still buried inside you. “Please—fuck, I just—“

All self restraint forgotten, you hand searches for his face, finding its way into his curls, pulling gently at the root, the softest hint of a grunt falling from his lips—the first noticeable sign all evening that he was even slightly affected by this—by you.

And maybe you’ve gone too far, the idea of touching him is where things go wrong, but you can’t be bothered to hold yourself together anymore.

“It’s okay,” He assures you, leaning over the middle console, hand working quickly against your cunt, moaning loudly into the confines of the car, ashamed at how wrecked you sound, “I like it.”

He must’ve noticed your expression, lingering on his face—you could do anything and he’d fall to his knees.

“It hurts—“ You plead, begging for release, “—please?”

It sounds too pretty coming from you, deciding that putting you out of your misery was easier than watching you suffer, on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm, Eddie’s hands feeling so much better than your own, or anyone that’s touched you before.

Your mouth hangs open on a wordless gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the force at which your high hits you, his fingers gently coaxing you through the descending pulse of your orgasm, near the point of over stimulation.

“Okayokay—“ You ramble, fingers wrapping around the length of his wrist as you pulled him away, heart skipping in your chest at the sight of his fingers flexing against your stomach as he pulls away, fingers covered in your wetness as a result of what just happened.

Your head rests against the back of the seat, chest heaving rapidly as you try to catch your breath. “Not that I’m complaining—“ Eddie’s voice pulls you out of your hypnosis, “but you might wanna let go.”

“Shit—I’m sorry,” You apologize softly, letting go of his hair, looking at him sheepishly, hands returning to your lap to fix your pants.

The song had ended long ago, the gentle rumble of the engine filling the quiet like an ambiance, realization settling between you both.

Who speaks first?

He’s quiet, wiping his hands on a black handkerchief that he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere, before stuffing it into his back pocket—where it must’ve been all along.

“I’m—“

“Should I—“

The stare you hold is long and tense, brimming with even more sexual tension than before, searching for some way to cope with whatever just happened.

He glanced down at the hard bulge of his jeans, noticing the way your gaze catches. He shifts, pulling at the front of his jeans to adjust himself. “It’s fine.” He lies, not ready to allow this to go any further than it should have.

“I don’t mind,” You reply slowly, voice hesitant as you lean forward, “I want to.”

He feels himself flex at the thought, the idea of your mouth—or even your hand, wrapped around, he was ruined. But, he’s insistent.

“I need to get you back to campus, right?” He asks, though the answer is obvious. It was a grasping at straw attempt to change the subject. “Red’s probably worried about you.”

Not a fucking chance.

“Yeah—you’re right.” You answer, trying to hide dejection, wanting nothing more than to touch him, as intimately as he had you. “We should go.”

It’s like he’s turning on his classroom demeanor before your eyes—and frankly, it’s ridiculous. He’s regretting every choice he just made and you know it, watching as he flips the gear into place, back on the road with one swift twist of the steering wheel.

And it could’ve been the heat of the moment or the copious amount of drinks that Eddie had been offered that night, obscuring his rational thinking—but he didn’t reek of alcohol, not a single drop on his breath. So, if anything, it was regret, obvious and plastered over his entire face.

But to Eddie, it's shame.

Shame at the idea of breaking so many rules, risking his job at the hands of some young women—who he couldn’t help but be lured by, entranced at how much of an enigma you were. He couldn’t describe it, couldn’t even put it into words.

And even after he drops you off that night, he comes in his hand, against the soft expanse of his stomach, the image of your face in his mind as you come apart by the work of his own hand.

He knew there was no going back, allowing himself to fully succumb to the idea that if you were willing to let him have you like that, you’d let him do just about anything.

It was exactly what you wanted.

author's note: and an extra special thank you to @hellfirehoe for dealing with my nonstop horny thoughts about this and helping me proofread.

#favorites #writingrecs

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eagerbby · 3 years ago

Note

IM S CREAMING

Another virgin Eddie idea - g spot stimulation with reader/squirting ❤️

anons stay giving me a reason to continue this saga on, my god. you know how to grasp me!

pairing | eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), squirting, fingering f receiving, mutual masturbation, praise kink

word count | 1.5k

a/n | as a fellow water cannon this request jumped out at me quite literally and i couldn't rest until i wrote it. this is set in between parts 2&3 of our series so eddie is currently still (mostly) a virgin.

How this began is hazy to you in your current state of pleasure, two fingers deep in your cunt and thumb rubbing over your clit lazily as your eyes drink in the sight of Eddie quickly and tightly fisting his cock across from you.

It'd started as a dare almost, you egging Eddie on to touch himself in front of you like he would watching one of his old porno tapes that you just knew he had stashed somewhere in his trailer. You just didn't expect him to actually do it.

His bed was small and you were almost knocking knees even though yours were bent up almost at your chest and he was also somewhat squashed, thighs spread slightly to leave you some kind of room.

You're naked from the bottom down, you'd made quick work of shoving down your own jeans and panties to make Eddie feel more comfortable. To begin with you'd simply done it so he had some kind of material to work with, but you got so riled up from watching him that you couldn't resist touching yourself too.

"God, even with your own hand wrapped around your cock it still looks massive," You gasp, crooking your fingers to rub against that spongey spot, keening into your own touch and arching your back.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, head thumping against his headboard, at this point unable to look at you any longer because he knows he's going to blow his load so quick. His cock looks angry and red, begging for release as it shines with a mixture of precum and your spit - you'd grabbed hold of his hand and spat directly into it, wanting to help him along.

"Hey, pretty boy, look at me." You demand, kicking Eddie slightly with your foot in annoyance and his head snaps up pretty quickly in response, wide eyes automatically looking straight at your dripping cunt, "Want you to watch me come, Eddie."

Eddie nods shakily and you double down your efforts to chase your orgasm, continuously rubbing your gspot and circling your clit in faster circles. You're a moaning mess, whining and keening into your own touch, your belly tightening and beginning to radiate an inner heat almost like the feeling of a full bladder.

The slick noises of your fingers on your wet pussy and Eddie's hand on his dick, his own throaty and strangled moans tangling with yours in the most delicious way has your back arching as you let the feeling wash over you.

It's always so intense when this happens, your own body forcing your fingers out of your cunt as you come, fingers working fast circles on your clit as your release shoots out of you, creamy and wet, dripping down your folds all the way to your ass, completely drenching the material under you.

You gasp in sharply, squeezing your eyes shut as you shudder through it, legs shaking and tummy muscles contracting. Though they flicker open once you hear Eddie cursing in front of you.

"Fuck - fuck, shit, fuck," Eddie's moaning and gasping, arching in on himself and coming hotly all over his fist not even a second after you as he watches you gush all over his comforter, soaking it. You don't miss the way his own come shoots up the front of his shirt, Eddie ever the amateur and not knowing how to aim away from himself.

"Bet your porno girls don't do that." You quip once you come back to yourself and Eddie slumps down a little, you lean forward and grabbing hold of Eddie's come soaked hand, bringing his fingers to your mouth to suck them clean.

You make a stupid show of it to rile Eddie up, looking him dead in the face, sucking his fingers down to the knuckle an slurping over them properly, licking at them like you would his cock. He's looking at you all dumb and awestruck, wet eyes glistening with admiration.

"What - what was that?" He asks quietly, nodding towards the wet patch below you, "Don't tell me I'm into you pissing all over my sheets."

You bark out a laugh, releasing his fingers from your mouth with a pop, "No, I didn't piss on your bed, Eddie. I squirted." Your tone is teasing, almost condescending as you explain yourself to him, which would annoy most men but you can't ignore the way Eddie's cock kicks up at you talking to him like he's dumb.

"How'd y'do that?" Eddie's so sincere that it makes you want to squish his cheeks and coo at him, it's so cute that he doesn't know much about the female anatomy but is willing to learn anything new that you show or tell him about.

"You wanna try?" You ask, cocking your head to the side and smirking, "I can usually do it more than once if I try hard enough, though I have no doubt your fingers will get the job done, handsome."

"Can I?" Eddie's eyes light up and his cock rises slightly, already half-hard just from the thought of touching you. You nod your head at him, spreading your legs again to let him get a good look at your cunt, glistening wet and still dripping.

"C'mere," You motion towards him with two fingers and he shuffles forward so he's situated between your spread thighs, dopey smile on his face, "you can start with two fingers. Remember the spongey part I told you about the first time?"

Eddie nods, already running his pointer and middle finger between your folds, stopping to rub at your sensitive clit before running back down to your entrance, breaching just ever so slightly with the tips of his fingers.

You sigh in pleasure, the feeling of his fingers already so much better than your own, "You just pump your fingers in and out only a little bit, keep your fingers pressed against the spongey part, 'kay, Eds?"

He nods again then sinks his fingers in to the hilt, a gasp escaping your mouth at the intrusion but god it felt good. Eddie finds your gspot rather quickly, crooking his fingers and rubbing over it relentlessly.

"You're so fucking good at this, Eddie," You cry, your own fingers slipping over your clothed nipples and rubbing at them, "please don't stop."

Eddie can't tear his eyes away from your wet cunt sucking in his fingers so well, the squelching sound like music to his ears and your moans only adding to it. He's fully hard again and can't even find it in him to be embarrassed, loving the way he could elicit this reaction from you.

You feel your second orgasm building a lot quicker than your last, Eddie's fingers a constant as he assaults your soft spot. It doesn't help that you're watching him look in awe at your pussy like he's never seen anything better, all doe eyed and sex stupid.

"M'gonna come, fuck, Eddie!" Your voice is fucked, you're louder than usual as your orgasm crashes over you, cunt clenching down on Eddie's fingers then forcing them out as you squirt again, this time somehow more than the first, shooting so far it drenches Eddie's bare thighs and his hard cock.

"'Atta girl, well done. You're so good." His soft voice has you whimpering and keening into him, shock coursing through your body at how unexpectedly dirty it is whilst he rubs at your inner thighs, soothing you through it.

"Dirty, talk to me like that again." You moan, leaning forward to grasp at Eddie's arms and tug him until he's hovering over you, hot breath fanning your face and chain dangling near your mouth, "Slide your cock in it."

Eddie furrows his brows, all confused at what you're saying, "You want me to... rub myself against you?"

"Yeah," You smile up at him, orgasm drunk and feeling a bit reckless, "it'll feel good, I promise."

You slip your hand down to grasp at his length, sliding the tip between your soaked folds and Eddie has to lean forward and brace himself on the foot of the bed, a feral moan escaping him.

He ruts against you a few times, sliding the length of his cock up and down your cunt, gliding wetly from your release, "You're so wet," his voice is hoarse and his words earnest yet sounding so dirty, "soaking me so good."

You nudge at Eddie a little and then capture his lips with yours for a hot, wet and dirty kiss and he's gone, coming hot on your pussy and you feel it running down you, mixing in with your own release and pooling at your ass.

Eddie pants into your mouth, hand gripping onto your waist tightly to hold himself up, "You're gonna be the fucking death of me, sweetheart." He groans, looking into your eyes with this adoration you had only seen a few times before, "Thank you."

"If you came that hard from just sliding it around wait until you actually fuck me." You giggle, always having to get the last word in and make it as dirty as possible. Eddie grimaces, but it gets lost when you lean up and kiss him again, pulling him down with a tug.

#WTF #you are actually insane omfg #this is one of the hottest thing ive ever seen #writingrecs

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eagerbby · 3 years ago

Text

I can't believe I just read this, for free. unbelievable how good this is

restraint

premise: it’s not eddie’s fault that he wants you so badly, he can’t help it.

pairing: perv!eddie munson x (f)reader

word count: 1k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unaware somnophilia, so dubcon, dry humping, coming on panties, a bit obsessive!eddie.

etc: i guess i’m part of the pervy eddie club now, i hold no shame i just wish this idea didn’t come to me at five in the morning because i still have gotten no rest from it! shoutout to my bby @lilacletter for feeding my pervy inspo.

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

Eddie can’t help it, he really can’t. The little voice in the back of his head—the one that’s probably his conscience, that part of your brain that lets you know when something is morally wrong or just plain fucked up—is being steam rolled and turned into white noise as his cock hardens in his pants.

He can already feel the droplets of precum wetting the material of his boxers, making it cling to the tip of his cock.

He wonders if you can feel it, the way he’s throbbing as he grinds against your ass in slow gentle thrusts. Just enough for the friction to move your body with his, but not enough to wake you.

And yeah, he really shouldn’t be doing this but he really cannot help it. Not when you look this pretty in one of his band tees. The bottom of the shirt pulling up the more you move in bed, exposing your cotton panties, the curvature of your ass, the way the cotton clings and shapes your cheeks so perfectly.

How could he not reach out and touch?

His fingers were buzzing, burning to run along the material. His palm feeling like a furnace compared to yours when he lets it run along your back side, over the curve of your ass, your buttcheek sticking out from the bottom of the panties—index finger running along the back scheme right where your pussy hides, right where he wants to be, loves to be.

It wasn’t his fault that you looked so perfect like this, so pretty. Just as it wasn’t his fault that his cock had started throbbing to the point of pain, aching to the point of need that he had to rut against you. He would have gone insane if he didn’t.

And it wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last.

He would purchase a million tees if it meant he got this kind of show every night. Got to see your bare legs, your braless tits fill out the front so well.

God he loved the way you looked in his clothes.

Loved you like this. At his disposal, so fucking pretty for him, all his, his cock fitting perfectly against your ass—pressed between your cheeks when he finally can’t stand the pounding in his cock anymore and pulls down his pajama pants to position his cock between them. The cotton so soft. His nose buried in your hair as soft grunts fell from his open mouth.

His body even closer. Like glue to yours, your frame moving in tandem with his, quicker, harder the more pressure he puts in his movements. Enough to have your tits bouncing.

And he shouldn’t be greedy. Shouldn’t need—want—more. But you’re just so perfect and he can’t help how badly he wants you. He can’t.

So he doesn’t hesitate in moving his hand below the tee, his palm cupping your tit. Thumb running along your erect nipple, your small whimpers echo through him like a siren calling out to passing ships.

How could he not touch you like this? How could he ever stay away, not want to have his cock pressed to your body, inside of it, fucking you, feeling you all of the time.

How was it wrong to want you this bad, it couldn’t be.

“So perfect,” Eddie whines at the back of your skull. Whispering to you, hoping you can hear, feel how hard he is right now. How much he fucking aches for you to the point of frustration. “My pretty girl.”

He definitely shouldn’t come like this. On your cute little panties while you’re sound asleep. But he needs to come. Needs to mark you, needs to show you what you do to him, what you caused, why he can’t control himself around you.

And so he’s letting out a gutturaled sob into your hair as he paints the outside of your panties with his come. Wetting them, staining them with the seed you forced out of him. From making him crave you. Want you. What he couldn’t help. What your perfect body does to him.

When he pulls back to see a glob of it on one of your exposed ass cheeks he’s already growing hard again. Wants to wipe it up with his finger and push it between your lips, have you swallow it down without even knowing.

But, knowing you’ll wake up wondering, innocently clueless as to what’s on your skin, why your panties feel so weird; brings an amused kind of joy to him. Makes him want to hold you down to the bed and show you where it came from. Only this time he’d be coming inside of you.

He hisses at the sensitivity as grips the head of his cock, moves it along the wet patches of his come on the cotton. Spreads it along your purt covered cheeks. Wants you to wake up feeling soiled, soaked, wet because of him.

The ache deep in his balls is barely sedated. It never is when it comes to you. He could do it again. Ruin these panties to the point of unsavory. Or maybe he could pull them to the side, press the heat of his cock into your crack. Rub the head of his cock against it until he comes again.

Or even run the length of it along your pussy. Hear the wet noises of your folds opening up for him, greeting him like a warm embrace he wants so badly to be inside of—all of the time. You’d get so wet so quick, you have before when he’s done it. Have even come in your sleep just from the tip of his cock lightly brushing against your clit.

It never felt wrong to be with you like this. To take you like this, have you like this. You were his girl, so pretty, so perfect. He needed you, it wasn’t his fault.

And he never was any good at self control anyway.

#perv!eddie just does something for me #this was so hot btw #writingrecs

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eagerbby · 3 years ago

Note

El you're gonna be the death of me 🥺

I got you 💞

Soft sex with Eddie and his gentle wandering hands, forehead pressed to your temple, lips sloppily kissing over your face. He has to hold your hands, has too, it's non negotiable. He loves you with every fiber of his being, you, his darling love. He knows he's not good with words but he always makes sure to show you with his actions. You make him feel safe - feel whole. He lives for his connection with you and as much as he loves the rough kinky sex you have together, the slow, soft, youre-everything-to-me sex is his favorite. It's the eye contact, the whispered words of affirmation, the way your thighs shake from holding so tightly to his waist as he thrusts lazily into you. He loves that you crave more, always more, but he takes his time. There's no rush to cum, only him and you and the soft sounds of your body's connected together.

CRIES. PULLS HAIR. WAILS AND DIES

yeah no he's thrusting so slow. so gentle, like you're made of this delicate porcelain he's afraid to touch. but eddie's a stubborn, daredevil man, taking you into his hands to admire. touching you like a child would touch an artifact in a museum. praising you like a devotee knelt before a sanctuary.

he relishes in the feeling of your hands scraping his back, hips rolling at the feeling. you moan in his ear — soft with a lewd lilt that makes him scrunch his eyebrows and pepper kisses onto the sweaty skin of your neck.

"i got you honey," he murmurs, nibbling at your jawline. your fingers tug at his split ends, the smell of sex and sweat and him—cigarettes and cheap cologne with a hint of apple in his hair—gives your heart palpitations. "so tight, hm? feel so good, baby."

"eddie," you whine. eddie removes a hand from beneath your arm to pull on the back of your knees, urging it to wrap around his waist to drive himself deeper like he knows you want. "a bit faster, please."

you enjoy the peaceful bliss of lovemaking with your wild and bawdy boyfriend. the way his usual rough libido with deep grunts and degrading words can switch from this angelic ambience. his thrusts long and deep in a way that tells you it isn't just fucking; it's one of his ways to tell you that he loves you as he gradually splits you open with his thick cock, his tip hitting that spot and the bush of curls above his dick brushing your clit at every push.

even so, eddie obliges to your request. the skin slapping a bit louder and faster, his sighs into grunts. his balls slap on the fat flesh of your ass, his hand slithering up from your calf to gently squeeze your thigh, only coming back to tuck itself beneath your armpit and caress your face. you moan, head sinking onto his pillows, and it urges him to look down at you.

"you're so beautiful," eddie pushes a strand of hair behind your ear. "fucking stunning, sweetheart. even when you're on top of me, or like this beneath me, you still look like an angel. breathtaking in- in all your ways—shit...no wonder why this pussy's like heaven."

he drives down to kiss your neck, biting at the marks he's left. proud of his indelicate creations before he's licking and nipping at your breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth to muffle the moans that get louder as he fucks his thick cock into you.

"baby," eddie takes your hands, slowly linking them together and pins them on either side of your head as he comes back up to press his forehead against yours. and fuck, his grip is tight; like he's afraid of letting go. "i'm close, eddie."

you both feel the way your hearts quicken its pace, sweat mingling against each other. eddie's rings sink deep into the crevices of your slender fingers when he drives up into you as he says. "i know, honey. i got you. cum for me yeah?"

and as you both cum, eddie's taking the back of your hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it, cumming harder every time you mewl at the feeling of his warm seed painting your gummy walls white.

(and when he pulls out, he's fucking his cum back inside your swollen hole with cheeky rubs to your puffy clit while he's kissing up your thighs. and god, despite it being so salacious, he'd do it any time of the day.)

its not even a request i just did it

#FUCK FUCK IM SCREAMING #THIS IS ALL IM GONNA THINK ABOUT NOW #EL I LOVE YOU FOR THIS #im putting it in fic rec because i fucking can #writingrecs

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eagerbby · 3 years ago

Text

This has got to be one of my most favorite things I've ever read. Your brain is genius! More, please, more!!

oh, baby.

Summary: You and Eddie raise a baby… however, you’re not a couple and the baby isn’t real. Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader [WC: 7k ] Warnings: takes place at the beginning of season 2, language, maybe part 2? I’m so nervous to post this. Quick Links: Masterlist

"And this," Mr. Allen walked up and down each row with the most serious face. Everyone else, all the students, were plagued with potential trauma at the preface of the assignment; "this is your only priority for the next week—including this weekend and the next."

You felt a cool breeze waft as he walked past your desk, continuing on foward as Steve Harrington audibly protested his instruction. The supposed "King of Hawkins High" wasn't impressed with having to take care of a child… well, a plastic one at that.

"Mr. Allen," he began from his spot in the second row from the door. All you could see was the brown poof of hair that he had become notable for. "I don't see why we can't just start this on Monday. We've got plans… there's a football game tonight!"

There were a few agreeing hums, mostly from the said football players in the room, but it wasn't as though they would be taking part in the assignment when they were on the field. Their partners would be left alone to deal with an unpredictable toy while they tossed pigskin for three hours for fun.

"And besides," Steve continued as Mr. Allen walked back to the front of the room, setting the baby down on his desk and grabbing two plastic bowls he had scavenged from home, "Halloween is next weekend! I bet we all already have plans…"

Steve turned around in his seat and looked around the room. He saw his peers watching him carefully, some in support and others in vague concern that he would get them in further conflict by having the task take up the whole month instead of a week and a half. He glanced over you hoping that being Nancy's childhood friend would spur a call within you to support him but alas, you would not give him the satisfaction.

In the back of the room, Steve's eyes landed squarely on one sole person. He chewed on his lip before turning around.

"Hell, I bet even Munson's got plans. You know we're all busy when he's actually doing something."

At that same moment, Eddie Munson had been sitting with his legs extended through the empty chair in front of him and his arms crossed against his chest. Even if he didn't want to be there in the slightest, Steve Harrington going on a tangent in the middle of senior health class at intrigued him. And when his name slipped past the hair's lips, Eddie's face contorted. Eyes narrow and slightly offended. The new kid, Billy Hargove, laughed as he twirled his pencil. He had been there for two weeks and had swept Eddie’s weed supply clean in a matter of days.

Eddie actually didn't have plans other than Hellfire on Friday, but he couldn't say that out loud. In fact, he didn't say anything. He had an inkling someone would call him to deal at whatever party everyone was going to, but unless it happened, he was staying in and getting stoned himself.

Everyone's head turned toward him and he forgot the real reason he didn't skip that hour. They were all judgemental. He was an oddity to them. You even glanced over your own, three rows in front of him and to the right.

When he caught your gaze, you were the only one to look at him like a real human being, a person, not a freak. Just simple curiosity because everyone else had. You gave him a tiny, empathetic smile before turning back around and he found himself staring at the back of your head after it happened. It made his heart skip a beat.

"Mr. Harrington," Mr. Allen placed one of the bowls he was holding onto Steve's desk, "Nothing's changing. I've conducted this role-play for ten years and it is not changing because you, or anyone else in this class, has plans that don't fit the lifestyle of what it means to be a parent."

He pointed to the bowl before placing the other on a girl named Lisa's desk, "Steve, you pick the boys and Lisa here will pick the girls," he turned his attention back to the room as Steve ran a frustrated hand through his hair. A couple of the girls around you groaned, whispering to one another that the system was rigged because they knew they could no longer pick their partners.

"No picking partners. I'm letting the magic bowls choose them for me. No debating, no arguing. I don't care if you think your partner is bad or not, you will complete this task together. Who knows," he laughed at the looks of the students, "maybe you'll find a new friend through all of this."

“Go ahead, Steve,” he ordered, leaning against his desk with ankles crossed and an amused smile playing at his elderly lips. Glasses perched near the end of his nose, Steve huffed at him and tucked his hand away into the bowl and ruffled the slips of paper.

And like luck, Steve Harrington pulled his own name first. Eddie smiled in satisfaction at that–knowing that there was a chance Steve would most certainly be paired with someone he didn't want after he called him out in class. He hoped Billy would have the same fate too. Hell, everyone who looked at him like he was a fucking Martian from planet Mars.

The irony that Hargrove listened to the same music, smoked the same dope, and drove his car just as recklessly but remained at the top of the food chain at Hawkins High hadn’t escaped Eddie. Girls liked Billy; he played basketball, gave them cheeky smiles, and certainly did not play a fantasy game for fun. He was the antithesis of Eddie’s existence–but a bully and raging asshole too. Billy Hargrove was a piece of shit and it had taken Eddie two days in class to figure that out.

“And Steve will be paired with…” Mr. Allen waited for Lisa to mimic Steve’s draw and she unfolded the paper.

Lisa drew Tammy Thompson's name which could have been worse for Steve. It took 3 minutes for Steve to pull Billy Hargrove's name who was then paired with Kennedy Walker, the school's future valedictorian. The look on the poor girl’s face was sadly hilarious. Hargrove winked at her and she turned such a shade of red that she looked like a balloon. But before Eddie could ponder what an interesting pair that made, Steve sighed and pulled another name from the bowl.

Steve crinckled the thin strip of paper in his hand before tossing it onto his desk, "Munson," he looked at Mr. Allen who nodded as he did with each name.

"And the lucky partner?" Mr. Allen had to have been joking except there wasn't an ounce of teasing in his words. Lisa picked the name out of the bucket and unfolded it with her candy red nails. Then, she laughed. Her eyes crinkled at the side from what you could see as she sat in the first seat beside the door. She looked over her shoulder, directly at you in her line of sight and smiled like a wicked wench.

"Y/n L/n." Shit.

A few of the girls giggled, a couple of the guys whistled which had bristled the compass within you south. You didn't care that you had been paired with Eddie because of what people thought of him–the primary reason they were all bemused with the pairing–but rather at the possibility that he couldn't give two-shits about the assignment. It may have only been October but you had already caught him before two different classes being chastised by teachers for not doing his work. If he kept it up, they said, he wouldn’t graduate with his class.

"Off the hook, ladies," one of the girls on the cheer squad laughed, "Y/n's got him."

Lunch could not have arrived fast enough.

You rushed to the front of the line, grabbed your tray, and made a straight shot for the table you had taken an unassigned assigned seat at. Nancy wasn't there when you arrived so you just picked at your food, rolling the grapes in the small section they had been dumped into and watched the entrance like a hawk. Your leg bounced under the table with a tinge of nervousness, but the aggravation of failure was starting to eat you alive and it had only been an hour since Mr. Allen screwed over your grade. Slowly, the lunch room came to life and Nancy held her calculus book in one hand and purple lunch bag in the other.

Even she had a sour look on her face. Lips pursed and brow furrowed, her hand tightly clenched around the bag as the small gold promise ring from Steve shined in the harsh lighting of the room.

"You'll never believe who Mike gave my number to," Nancy huffed as she sat down; her lunch bag filled scarcely with a peanut butter and jelly and a bag of cheetos. She had four sticks of cut up celery that you gagged at, not understanding how she could enjoy the stringy vegetable for fun.

"You'll never believe who I was partnered with for Allen's baby project," You stopped pushing around your food and she looked at you with heeded interest, her eyebrows drawn together and her wide eyes concerned.

"You first," you pointed a finger at her as she shifted in her seat. The others at the table started to sit down and engage in their own conversations–you had totally forgotten about watching the doorway to the lunchroom. "Keith?"

"From the arcade! The one who always," she scrambled her hands in front of her in frustration before letting out a groan, "he's always got his dirty fingers on the buttons and offers the kids soda way past a normal time."

There was not a day that went by where you did not think that Nancy Wheeler lived with the silver spoon, nay, stick, up her ass.

"All because of someone who broke Dustin's record of Dig Dug. Who does that!?" Nancy unzipped her bag and sure enough, a PB and J with a bag of cheetos as a side with sticks of celery tucked in a plastic baggie.

"Maybe he's just playing matchmaker…" You stabbed a grape and popped into your mouth with a smile. "Steve was being an annoying shit in class today, so maybe, just maybe, you should be searching for someone else."

"When isn't he like that?" She laughed, "He's Steve Harrington for God's sake."

"Well, I think he's to blame for the luck I had in class today."

"Luck? You were just on the verge of complaining," she glanced quizzically at you, looking over your shoulder when a paper ball went flying in the direction of the table. "left," she said and you tilted to the left as the wad went flying past both your heads and ended up by the science club's table. It was a daily occurance. "So, who's your partner?"

"Eddie Munson."

Nancy stopped trying to open the bag of cheetos. "What?"

"Be glad you're not a senior yet, Nance… this project is going to be the death of me, I swear," your head found a home in your hands as you pushed the tray away from you.

"I'm going to fail it! There is no way I can get an A without a capable partner and then what? Will I have to repeat senior year because I failed health? HEALTH?" You exclaimed.

"You won't fail," she conceeded. Placing the snack onto the table, she reached out and patted the side of your arm. "If it really gets bad you can always ask Steve."

"He's partnered with Tammy Thompson. There is no way he'd help me with what Allen said about these babies."

"What did he say? Where is the doll anyway?"

"Eddie's got it. Maybe I'll never see it again if I'm lucky," you removed your hands from the table and folded them in your lap as you told her the assignment requirments and what Mr. Allen had said to expect about the baby. As you talked, she picked at her food and the fruit off your tray as some of the girls from newspaper filled the seats around you.

"At least it doesn't actually, you know, pee or anything."

"But the sensor doesn't know that it isn't real. I don't even know how he got dolls so advanced… I had a flour baby when I was a kid and this is as close to a real baby as possible except it doesn't blink."

"Creepy," she mumbled before picking the bag back up.

"Very," you agreed and took a second to glance around the room. Some of the partners were already facing their first challenges. A few were trying to quell the crying, a couple sat together planning their week out so they could work together and have equal time, but when you looked at the table that normally held Hellfire, Eddie wasn't there.

"They all laughed when my name was called," Nancy's head quirked back up at you, "I don't care that he's my partner; that's not why I'm complaining, but this isn't going to be an easy week."

That was the truth—you didn’t care that Eddie was your partner because as a person, Eddie was not as bad as everyone labeled him to be. He was actually, in an admission that you’d take to your grave instead of tell Nancy, fairly handsome and interested the hell out of you. It was the work ethic and motivation that concerned you.

"People are just mean, Y/n," you nodded in agreement, "you just need to focus on the assignment and if you're lucky, like you always are," she peered into your soul with that jealousy, "everything will go swimmingly."

Nancy Wheeler knew she spoke too soon when the doors to the lunchroom flug open with flair. She jumped and turned around in her seat when she saw your soul escape from your eyes.

"Hey! Mama!"

Jesus Fucking Christ.

He was holding the doll by its back leg, letting it dangle from his hand as if it were that black, metal lunchbox you convinced yourself had drugs tucked away in it. Eddie was looking directly at your table as though he had been searching for you for hours.

“Did he just—“ Nancy cut herself off as she watched him make his way toward the table. A group of preps flipped him off on the way and he gladly returned the bird with glee.

“He just called me ‘mama.’”

You put an arm defensively covering your face, shielding your eyes away from him as the Hellfire table furthered his amusement by cackling at him. Nancy whipped her head back around to you and felt the embarrassment roll off.

“It’s only a week,” she reminded you, “only about a week.”

Eddie’s feet landed at the end of the table and the girls at the end went silent. He was standing there, holding the doll by its hind leg, and quirked his head to the side. His eyes were entertained at the way you had blocked yourself away from him. The call of ‘mama’ making your skin crawl and elating him from far away. He could push a few buttons without feeling bad about it.

“You embarrassed of me, L/n?” He feigned hurt, “what’s our kid gonna think when he learns his parents don’t get along?”

“It’s a doll, Munson,” your hand that had been blocking your face hit the table hard. “It has no memories and will certainly, never, ever, grow up.”

“If Allen heard you say that he’d give us an F,” he walked around the table and took a seat beside you, legs spread as they caged you in from the side and he plopped the baby on the table with a thud. It’s head face down on the table as its poorly drawn on strands of hair faced the ceiling. He was wearing double denim. A jacket filled with pins and patches, a chain hung from one loop of his pants to another and the red flannel he wore underneath it was left open to reveal a t-shirt for a band you had never heard of—holes littered the neckline that sat beneath a silver chain.

Across from you, Nancy sat rigid as she watched the way Eddie’s eyes watched you. A small smile playing on his face as one of his hands found themselves in his lap and the other elbow perched on the table beside the doll.

“We should probably talk about this, huh?” He asked, surprising you by actually wanting to talk about the assignment. You turned your head and looked at him, eyes bemused by his willingness to do so. Eddie recognized that, scoffing and reaching inside of his jean jacket to grab a pack of cigarettes before tapping one out. He slipped them back in and stuck the one he plucked from the pack between his lips.

“You know,” he glanced at you, then Nancy, then back at you, “when a teacher tells us we have to work together, I don’t expect to do all the talking.” He lit the cigarette with a puff and the girls at the end of the table began to complain. No one was allowed to smoke in the cafeteria—only the teachers lounge and well, that was reserved for teachers.

“How do I know you actually want to talk about this?” You countered. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you turn in an assignment before.”

“You been takin’ notice of me, L/n?” He smiled wide, grabbing the cig with two fingers and tapping it onto the floor. “If you wanted to talk to me you could just do it, ya know? Don’t need to stare at me.”

“Wheeler,” he looked at Nancy who drew her brows together, the tight contortion of her face judging him without words. “You know your friend has been watching me? Should I put an add in the paper for a bodyguard to protect me from my stalker?” Nancy didn’t reply because she had never held a conversation with Eddie before. She didn’t understand his humor, let alone the levity of his words as he blew smoke in her face and sat next to her best friend like a suave Casanova.

“Eddie,” you sighed, letting your gaze drift around the cafeteria and caught a few interested stares along with way. One teacher, Ms. Kirch–the freshman biology teacher with a hard-on for students willing to press her buttons—was walking around the perimeter on the other side. If she saw Eddie smoking, they’d both make a scene.

“I know you think school’s a joke but I’m not failing this just because you don’t want to do it.”

“Who said I don’t want to do this?” He furrowed his brows, shaking his head at you as he put the cigarette back to his lips. The red burning as he breathed in.

“Oh I don’t know… you’re attendance record, report cards, all previous group projects that I’ve never seen you show up for.”

“Those are all Ms. O’Donnell’s,” he defended, pointing a finger at you, “She’s a bitch and has it out for me.”

“I just want to know for sure that if we do this together, I won’t be left to do all the work at the end.”

Eddie saw the honesty in your eyes as you admitted it. He never truly understood what it meant to be an academic because it felt superficial. The attachment to good grades and praise that he never got, so, naturally, he never comprehended. You were a good student—a good person, rather. When he heard your name called after his and the snickers that followed, Eddie was reminded of the fact that you didn’t treat him like a ‘freak’ but a person. And hell, there was a first time for everything when he wanted to try something new. Completing a project because his partner didn’t treat him like dirt? Eddie could at least try it out.

“Why do you think I’m here?” He tapped the cigarette and the ash fell to the floor again. “If I’m going to graduate, I’ve gotta get this done too.”

You nodded slowly in observation. Eddie did not appear to be lying. That blasé attitude he had walked in with gradually decreasing the more you talked. Glancing again at Ms. Kirch who was directly across the room from you beside the table of jocks, the details of the week would be limited to a few seconds before she came charging over and causing a scene. You turned to the small stack of one notebook and history textbook that laid next to your tray. Ripping a paper out of it, you stole the pencil from Nancy’s stack and wrote down your address on it.

“Here,” you handed it to him and he looked over it with a smirk, “that’s my address and phone number. Kirch is going to bite your head off in a minute and we don’t have time to go over all the details so if you’re free later, stop over after school and we can divide everything out.” He knew where you lived. Three doors down from Gareth—his friend and band mate and also, another one of Hawkins’ finest on their way to repeating their final year of school and he was only a sophomore.

“Your parents aren’t gonna beat my ass or anything when I get there? I know I have a bit of a…” he clicked his tongue, tipping his head to the side, “reputation.”

The shrug you gave did not ease his concerns right away. However, the comment that followed made him realize that actually attempting to complete this project with you was a good thing. Maybe luck was finally giving him a chance.

“Not everyone in this town thinks you’re a freak, Munson,” you gave him a small smile, pointing your own finger to one of the buttons on his jacket, “besides, my dad’s favorite band is WASP. I think he’d like someone to talk about it with—even if just for a second.”

He smiled and Nancy Wheeler was taken aback by the scene in front of her. Seven minutes ago, you were in distress with the idea that Eddie Munson was going to be the worst partner imaginable and the cause of failure in senior health class. Now, you were offering him kind smiles and an invitation to your home with so much as his own words being enough to convince you that he wouldn’t leave you high and dry with an unpredictable doll.

Eddie grabbed the doll by its leg again, ready to escape before Kirch made her way but you could already hear her footsteps coming barreling your direction.

“I’ll take it now and bring it over later,” he nodded, sticking the cigarette between his lips again and letting it dangle there, “we should probably give it name instead of referring it as an ‘it.’”

“Mr. Munson!” That shrill voice made him cringe.

“Think about it. We’ll talk about it later, yeah?” He rose his eyebrows at you as if asking you to agree. You nodded, giving a small ‘yeah’ in response before he shot out of the seat.

“Mr. Munson, smoke outside if you must! Do you not understand the rules of this school?”

Behind you as he stood, Eddie turned toward Ms. Kirch. He let out a puff of smoke between his lips as her hand batted the fumes away from her face. The doll hanging on its one limb and swinging left to right as Eddie taunted her.

“Ms. Kirch,” he swooned, a few amused giggles sound from the tables around you as your head tipped over your shoulder, Eddie’s eyes flashed to yours as he played into her hand. “If you wanted to compliment my ability to break those so-called rules, you could at least sound excited to say it.”

“You put that out right now or you’ll be spending after school in detention and it’s going straight onto your record!”

“On my record!?” He laid his free hand on his chest, slowly backing up from where he was standing. Eddie was going to bolt because the old woman wouldn’t run after him. “Ms. Kirch, you know how much I respect my record,” he shook his head dramatically, hair vibrating with the shake as the bud sizzled again. “But, I have plans tonight so…”

The cigarette fell to the floor from his lips, cooling against the white tile as she went to protest. Eddie’s shoe squished it, extinguishing it, and once his foot lifted from the flattened cig, he ran. Ms. Kirch walked no more than two feet as brief laughter erupted in the area—sure they all made fun of Eddie and ostracized him from normal high school life but hell, if he didn’t bring a bit of joy to them when he pissed off the old lady that watched them all like a hawk in their most free period. A chuckle slipped out of you and she turned to you with a glare.

“Do you find this funny, Ms. L/n?”

She smelt like stale flowers and her lipstick was pearled in some spaces on her lips. Kirch was haggard and growing older every day.

“No, ma’am,” you shook your head at her and turned back around. Nancy was sitting with wide eyes, scared of the woman who lingered for a moment behind you before running off to find a janitor to clean up.

“Shit,” Nancy muttered quietly.

“What?”

“He’s deranged, Y/n. Deranged.”

“It’s only about a week, right, Nance? Only about a week.”

And that week would be the most interesting week of your life.

Eddie came over as he said that afternoon after school. At your kitchen table before your parents got home from work, you both devised a plan on how to go about taking care of the doll—and as Eddie had asked, you tried to think of a name but that was harder than it proved to be. He said the first thing that popped into his head and that was unfortunately, Bilbo.

Bilbo. A doll named after Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit was the baby you had to take care of together.

It did not even matter that the doll was plastically formed with female anatomy because he said: “What’s in a name, anyway? It’s just a doll.”

So, Bilbo it was.

And Eddie offered to take it for the night because he had Hellfire on Friday’s when you had nothing, therefore you could swap in the morning and you’d go about the plan when the weekend arrived. The plan, however, was more than what you had originally believed needed to take place for the assignment. Nancy called you Thursday evening after Eddie had left to complain that Steve would be spending all of his free time helping Tammy with the doll and was blowing her off until Halloween—a whole week later. You hadn’t fully realized that what you and Eddie had planned to ensure that you’d both pass health this semester was essentially spending all of your time together [sans Tuesday when his band played at The Hideout and Friday when he had Hellfire].

You slept well Thursday with those thoughts lingering in the back of your mind. Nancy’s concerns were her concerns. She had confided in you that she and Steve were having issues anyway, so one more nail in the coffin did not appear to be as detrimental as she complained it was. If Steve and Nancy were on their final string, the end was imminent. When you woke on Friday, the first thing on your mind was how the night had gone for Eddie and if what Mr. Allen said was true about the babies, had he had an absolutely awful night being a ‘parent’ for the first time?

That question was answered rather quickly as you entered the hallway at seven-thirty.

“Mary! You can’t just leave me with the thing!”

“I am not taking it tonight!”

“It wants food and there’s no way to feed it!”

There were ‘couples’ fighting at every turn. As you passed Tammy Thompson’s locker, Steve looked like he wanted to pull his hair out.

“I can’t do it! I can’t do it!” He complained to her as he held the baby on his hip. It was a sight. Steve in his tight jeans and blue jacket, striped polo, to have a doll perched on his hip like it was real. Everyone was taking it seriously which made the entire situation feel less awkward and daunting.

You reached your own locker, twisting the combination while trying to snoop on Steve’s conversation five lockers down on your left.

“This thing never shuts up! I got no sleep last night and I don’t think I’ll even be able to go to the game tonight because I’m dragging ass!”

“Steve, come on…” Tammy trailed off because she had to sing the national anthem and could not bring the doll with her. But she should have—the doll could probably sing better than her.

“It’s not fair, Tammy!” Steve’s voice began to dwindle as he looked around and noticed people staring at him. He locked eyes with you over Tammy’s shoulder and sighed heavily.

Suddenly, the textbooks and folders in your locker became interesting—far more interesting than all the arguing going on in the hallway. Mr. Allen had made everything difficult intentionally. Splitting up groups so one person cared for the doll at a time before each group realized they couldn’t do it alone. The tactic was good, great even. The responsibilities of childcare and parenting obvious to those who had terrible nights and to those who hadn’t had realized it yet, the feelings were inbound.

As was Eddie. Charging down the hallway after barely hitting a gaggle of kids heading to the middle school in the parking lot and the doll, Bilbo, once again hanging from its hind leg as it swung. He called out your name so loud that even Steve had shut his mouth and stopped talking to Tammy. Eddie had one of those bad nights too. He strode right up to the side of your locker and had a crazed look on his face.

“What the fuck!?” He exclaimed, bags under his eyes. You couldn’t answer the question because you weren’t sure what had gone on.

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’!? This thing,” he held it up like a captured possum, “kept me up all night with its relentless screaming and I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off!”

“I don’t think you can turn it off,” you commented, grabbing your science book and folder as your bag hung from the hook. “That’s not the point of the project. The point is to learn how to care for it, not turn it off.”

“Well,” he laughed cynically, “we were given a devil child. Literally the spawn of goddamn satan because it doesn’t want to be cared for.”

“I thought we weren’t calling it ‘it’ anymore. Bilbo, remember?”

“Bilbo is too kind of name for this thing. It’s Lucifer… fucking… Sauron!”

“I can’t get on-board with Sauron,” you bit back a smile at his suffering, “But your duty is over now, right? Just leave Bilbo with me and we can meet up tomorrow and swap.”

“You’re not going to be able to do it alone,” he said it honestly, like he was terrified of the watermelon sized piece of plastic. You glanced around the hallway and saw all the partners having conversations similar, but all the same different, like the one you were having with Eddie. He was having an internal battle with himself—realizing that he actually had to do this and that when looking back on his own life, if this is what having a child was like, he could not imagine how his parents got through high school having him at sixteen. He had just turned eighteen and could barely keep it together and it was a doll named after a character from a children’s book.

“Do you not believe I can?” You questioned him yet he shook his head, taking note of the things in your locker instead of looking at you.

“That thing is a monster and if it’s not waking you up, it’s eating away all your free time. If it’s not eating away at your free time, it’s taking up all the time spent doing things that matter. It sucks the joy out of life without even taking a real breath.”

“Those are harsh words, Munson,” a sigh left your lips as you gripped your locker door. He was looking at the two Polaroids that were stuck on the door with tape. You and Nancy on the Fourth of July and then you with a group of little kids a few Halloween’s back dressed as character’s from Star Wars. You were hugging a curly haired Han Solo that had no teeth. “But maybe you just don’t have the parental touch that it needs.”

“What are you saying?” He narrowed his eyes, “That I’m neglecting Bilbo’s needs?”

“Maybe,” you shut your locker, “But either way, you have Hellfire and I agreed to take ‘em off your hands today so,” you grabbed Bilbo from him and perched him like Steve had perched his doll. Something stuck inside Eddie in that moment. It was a goddamn doll and he was sleep deprived, so he conflated his bubbling feelings of whatever the hell spurred inside of him to that. You looked cute holding the doll like that.

“We can talk about it tomorrow, alright? If anything needs to change, we have time to discuss it. Don’t get all worried.”

Eddie shook his head, running both of his hands through his hair and over his bangs before bringing them back down.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, mama.”

And then he walked away. You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into, but, certainly it couldn’t be as bad as he was making it because sometimes, people could be dramatic—and Eddie Munson was the dictionary definition of the word. Always had been, always would be, and maybe, he was playing with the truth.

For three hours it had gone swimmingly. Bilbo made no noise.

But the minute Mr. Grosso put the Spanish test on your desk, the doll wailed so loud it made a girl scream from the other side of the room and you missed the test because it cried for thirty minutes in the bathroom before you could calm it down.

You swore you could hear the popping of his muffler three miles away. The blinds on the living room window comically split into two by your fingers, you peered out in anticipation you had gone to sleep feeling. Not quite butterflies but a nervous, anxious energy that kept you tossing and turning through the night. Along with Bilbo—the baby had kept you tossing and turning to the point where you felt crazy.

When you got home, you realized that the doll had smelt like weed and cigarettes but the distinct smell of Eddie’s cologne tried to cover it up. He had sprayed that doll with so much liquid that it had become ingrained into its clothes and soft body. You ripped off the onesie it was wearing and dunked it in the laundry immediately. And again, for the first few hours you managed to get your homework done for the weekend without much interruption until your parents got home.

They were utterly amused with the project and kept repeating that it was good for “skill building and responsibility.” You rolled your eyes and told them what Eddie had said about his night, expecting the same for your own and sure enough, it was like walking through the pits of hell.

Bilbo’s journey, Frodo’s journey… neither of them had the same horror of the screaming baby doll sitting on your comforter at two in the morning. Hour after hour, all you wanted to do was cry because it wasn’t responding to any of the tactics you had used when you would babysit. No rocking, no shushing, no gentle strokes, and just as the others complained in the hall, you couldn’t change its diaper or feed it. The solutions to ease it’s complications were non-existent.

Eddie rung you at eleven thirty saying he’d be over ‘in a bit’ and you stood at the window in your living room while your dad watched TV and your mom cooked lunch. The doll laying quietly on the sofa beside him for the first time in a half hour.

“So,” your dad cleared his throat as the program changed at noon, “what’s Eddie Munson like as a partner? I know his uncle Wayne from the plant.”

“He’s fine thus far,” you muttered, not tearing your eyes away from the window.

“You know this doll smells like a skunk.”

“It’s weed, dad,” you said so casually his eyebrows rose, “and it’s Eddie’s, not mine. And no, I don’t smoke.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” he laughed but he would have. Not that he cared in the slightest if you did, that was all mom. Mom cared about reputation and manners and whether or not you’d have yellow teeth by the time you’re fifty. “But is he treating you alright?”

“What do you mean?” You looked away from the window and back at him, “We’re not really a couple, you know. It’s just a project,”

“I know, I know,” he clarified, waving you off like you had taken the comment too seriously, “as a partner. Not making you feel uncomfortable or anything?”

He might know Wayne, but the label of ‘freak’ extended beyond school. Eddie Munson flew around town in his beat up van playing his metal music at the highest level, smoked and loitered outside of stores, and very frequently, jested with the people of Hawkins to amuse his merry band of oddities.

“Eddie’s a good guy, dad,” you lamented, “so what if he likes metal and plays D&D.”

“D&D?”

“Yeah,” you furrowed your brows at him, “what did you think he did? He literally named the doll after Bilbo Baggins.”

“I thought Hellfire was…”

“What the mothers at the grocery store say it is?” You scoffed and turned back to the window, Eddie’s van turning the corner at the end of the block. “It’s a D&D club. I told him he’d probably get along with you too so try not to accuse him of worshiping the Devil, ‘Kay? That’s like… the furthest thing from the truth.”

He just nodded as you defended Eddie, a little smile on his face because he knew you so well. You were a good kid, a smart kid, but oblivious sometimes. If Steve Harrington had been your partner and he inquired about Steve’s role as a partner, you would have rolled your eyes and ended the conversation there. Eddie pulled into the driveway and you grabbed the baby off the couch, marching to the door. Opening it wide, he hadn’t even exited the van before you were standing there. Split between the wooden door and the glass one, pumpkins littered the small deck and a wreath rested on the door behind your head.

You had a cute house. It was simple and friendly, something his trailer was not. Eddie saw you standing there with a flat face and Bilbo in your hands and he laughed in his car. You could see his elated face burst with laughter; it irritated you but you couldn’t help thinking the sight was special. How often he had been smiling and laughing in your presence and a little butterfly sprouted in the pit of your stomach.

Eddie tossed the keys between his palms as he lazily approached the door, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Looks like someone had a rough night,” he commented a few feet from you as you unlocked the glass door and propped it open. “Didn’t believe me when I said it was Satan?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, putting on a face for him to prove you could handle the stress of taking care of a plastic doll. “Bilbo was a saint. Slept through the night.”

Eddie reached the door, holding onto the silver handle so you could let go.

“Yeah?” He questioned, “tell that to your face, sweetheart. You got no sleep and you look like you walked through Mordor.”

“Do you always reference Lord of the Rings or is it just to prove you read?” You squinted your eyes at him.

“One, I do read,” Eddie entered your house and stood across from you in the small doorway. The doll separating you, he looked down, you looked up. “And two, Bilbo likes it when I talk about familiar things,” He gave a wide, toothy smile before grabbing the doll out of your hands and moving into the entryway.

“You know, this kind of feels like how I’d imagine kids of divorce feel.”

“Like being pawned off by their parents every other day because rules told them to?” You shut the door behind you, pressing it closed with the thud. You pointed to his shoes and directed him to take them off to where a mat sat beside the wooden table with a mirror hanging above it.

“Mhm,” he hummed as he slipped them off. He was wearing matching socks. “Poor ‘lil Bilbo Munson-L/n… separated by the rules written on the back of Mr. Richard’s history test.”

You scoffed, walking past him and down the hallway as he struggled with his right shoe. In a matter of seconds, his socked feet patted against the wood flooring and caught up with you.

“My parents are home so don’t be weird or anything,” you muttered and he caught himself nodding at the direction instead of responding with the sarcastic remark because of the way you said it. ‘Don’t be weird or anything,’ as if he was not already labeled that way or saw himself as ‘weird.’ Yes, Eddie was unique and full of a million things you weren’t sure fit a narrative of ‘normal,’ but it didn’t mean he was weird. He was just Eddie.

You rounded a small archway that revealed a living room and an older man sitting on the couch watching the tv. His eyes left the screen and met Eddie’s—who was immediately more reserved than he had thought he’d be. He was nervous, suddenly. Standing in your home, with your father in one room and mother in another, with the task of caring for a baby together looming over his head like a cloud. It was ridiculous and confusing but all the same exciting and challenging for him.

“This is, um,” you glanced at Eddie to put him on the spot. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out at first. He was holding the baby like a real baby and moved it to extend his hand to your dad.

“Eddie. Eddie Munson. Thanks for letting us use your house,” he said as cool as he could. Your dad looked at his hand, taking not a second later to grip it strongly and shake it.

You noticed the way Eddie’s eyes lit up at being welcomed. His hesitancy dissipating as your dad asked him a question, yet all you could do was watch him. The feeling was odd. Watching Eddie interact with your father was like watching a significant other be terrified to meet the parents for the first time. It was terrifiying how quickly that idea not only came to your mind, but felt normal.

Conversations between the two of you before being assigned partners had been totaled at three.

And now Eddie Munson was talking to your dad about their shared connection to Wayne Munson in the middle of your living room.

And for some reason, the sight of it was something you wouldn’t be mad about becoming a normal occurrence.

“I hear you play D&D?” He asked Eddie who glanced at you, already looking at him, before nodding and turning back to your dad. He hadn’t expected you to have talked about him at all.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“You know,” Rising from the couch, “She babysits some kids that play it. They’re quite the rambunctious bunch but have nothing on that… what did you say its name was?” He asked you, but Eddie answered at the same time you did.

“Bilbo.”

He laughed, repeating the name as he turned toward another archway that led to the kitchen and tipped his head in that direction.

“We never had to do a project like that but I think it’ll do you both good.”

Your mom was standing in the kitchen making grilled cheeses and stirring tomato soup on the stove. She turned her head over her shoulder and gave Eddie a smile. He returned it as his eyes flicked all over the space. He took in the pictures on the wall, the types of plates your family used, the way the sink had a window overlooking the backyard and there was a dog outside on a leash laying on the brick patio. Eddie didn’t have this life. He walked to the patio door and looked out at the yard.

“You gotta pretty nice house here, L/n,” he mumbled as you came to stand beside him. His fingers digging into the plush body of Bilbo as a bit of his hardened shell began to tell him he was out of place.

“It’s nice, yeah,” you admitted, “but it’s a carbon copy of all the houses in this neighborhood.”

He hadn’t put two and two together and noticed the layout was similar to Gareth’s down the street.

“You con your parents to be nice to me too?” He glanced at you as if looking for a conspiracy. That somehow, nothing in his life was this easy. That there was a superficial reason talking to you came easy; that there was a mysterious reason your parents accepted him even if he wore a leather jacket and Motörhead t-shirt and a spattering of rings on his fingers. You weren’t necessarily friends in any way, but he felt comfortable. He looked into your eyes and felt secure because of what? Kindness? The noticeable attention of a girl finally making him soft?

“No,” you said honestly, “just told them a bit about who you were. That’s all. Are you going to stay?”

“Stay?”

“I just thought,” you felt your mouth go dry with his question. Perhaps you were being too forward or not thinking clearly because the sight of him being domestic with a doll had awakened a sleeping giant inside of you. His big, brown, cow-like eyes scanned over your face as you stuttered. “I just thought it’d be easier for both of us the longer we did it together.”

“Oh,” was the sound that escaped between his lips and you immediately began retracting you words. Your parents watched the two of you from the other side of the counter with knowing looks in their eyes.

“It’s fine!” You laughed nervously. “You don’t have to stay. I was just shooting the shit, you know? I’m not trying to keep you from your plans or anything… my mom makes a real mean gc and—“

“—I’ll stay.” Eddie cut in and you stopped rambling, letting the words fall from your lips as he nodded. “I want to stay.”

“O-Okay, um,” you looked into those brown eyes a second longer than you should have before peaking past him and to your parents who tried to appear occupied with cooking. “Eddie’s gonna stay for a bit, if that’s fine.”

“Yeah, hun,” your mom kept her back turned to you and stirred the pot. “He’s always welcome.”

Always welcome.

He had to have hit the lottery with this one. A good, pretty partner and a space to escape to that welcomed him without judgement? He was either in the first circle of Hell or ascending to peace yet his feet were planted on the ground—not a foot from your own.

Eddie spent the entire afternoon there. When the sun fell and the moon rose high, you yawned on the floor of your basement and he knew that it was far past a normal time to spend sitting around, laughing and trying to sooth the inexplainable outbursts of Bilbo. His face hurt from the stupid smile that he couldn’t wipe from his face once the two of you had figured out that the doll had sensors under its arms and swaddling helped stop the crying until another unexplained outburst required attention.

When he walked to his van with the doll swaddled in his arms like a real baby, he turned back as he opened the door and shot one last look to the house where you were still standing to bid him goodbye. Eddie didn’t want to leave. He felt his heart squeeze when you gave him a small wave, illuminated by the yellow lighting of the hallway behind you. Shit. He got into the van and sped off before pulling into Gareth’s driveway and pounded on the door.

You shut the front door and with a lock, your dad turned off the tv in the living room before walking into the hallway to meet you there. Both headed to bed, he put an arm around your shoulders and squeezed.

“We gonna talk about that or no?” He asked.

“About what?”

“That!” He laughed as you felt your face heat up. Rising on the Kelvin scale, you felt a spotlight shrink itself onto you. “You gotta little crush there, darlin’ and to be frank, I think he might too.”

“Dad!” You complained, jostling out of his grip and walking more quickly toward your bedroom. “I don’t like Eddie!”

“Yeah, sure you don’t,” he chuckled as you pushed opened your bedroom door and slammed it closed in embarrassment. “But really, you do.”

Eddie pounded on Gareth’s door for three minutes but no one was coming to the door. Desperate, he put his ear to the wood and heard the distinct thumping of drums echoing throughout the house and contemplated for a moment. He could keep knocking and draw the attention of the neighbors and get the cops called on him for suspicious behavior, or, he could go around to the back and knock on Gareth’s window in hopes that it was closer and louder.

He jumped off the stoop and made for the window. Inside, Gareth was head banging as he played Iron Maiden on his drums and had a literal lava lamp reflecting off the symbols. Eddie put his fist to the glass and waited for a break in the beats to thump. Gareth jumped, a scream emitting from his mouth as his sticks went flying across his room and Eddie waved a hand at him from the other side.

“What the fuck, man?” Gareth opened the window and nearly shivered at the cool, October air. “Why are you here? The cops after you?”

“I just spent eight hours in Y/n L/n’s basement taking care of a goddamn baby and eating her mother’s food.”

“Shit,” Gareth laughed, “that sounds like a fuckin’ dream if you ask me.”

“It’s a nightmare, Gareth. A fucking nightmare.”

“Why?” The floppy hair Gareth had been sporting fell into his eyes as they contorted in confusion. “She’s a nice girl. Her old man helps mine when the cars busted.”

“Of course he does!” Eddie pushed off the windowsill and put his hands above his head, breathing in deeply.

“What? He threaten you or something?”

“No, they were,” Eddie’s face scrunched as if it pained him to say the word, “perfect.”

“Then…” Gareth motioned with his hand for Eddie to continue.

“That’s it! They were perfect! She’s perfect, man!” Then, he let a slew of curses leave his mouth and disappear into the night sky. Gareth laughed, letting a long ‘ahhhhh’ direct itself toward the guitarist.

“Eddie Munson,” he leaned into the beside table by the window, “in love with the girl next door.”

“FUCK!” Eddie yelled with his hands in his hair.

And he still had a week left to take care of Bilbo with you.

#god i really love this #writingrecs

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