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eddiernunson · 2 months ago

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PLSPSLSPSLSPSLS MORE DARK!EDDIE ARTTFJDJSJKDJFH PLEASE😢

Devil Inside

KindaDark!Eddie Munson x Innocent!Reader

A/N: This is not very dark, more like dark!Eddie lite, I’d say. All he does is a little manipulation; he’s overall very sweet to you. If you want it darker, check this one out.

Smut so good it made the author wet fr, I'm not even kidding lmao. I’m really excited for you guys to read this, but I’m trying to prepare myself for low levels of interaction because I fear the label of ‘dark’ will turn people away—no matter how lite I made this. This is my second favorite fic I wrote in my ovulation haze. The nosferatu inspired smut takes first tho—which will probably be posted next after this one. I’ve literally thought about this idea for three years. The moment I saw Eddie and Jason on screen, I was like, ‘I need to read a fic where Eddie manipulates Jason’s girlfriend into fucking the freak’

Lastly, this was already written like last week, but I’m gonna claim this was inspired by Lady Gaga’s Coachella performance of Disease. Do yourself a favor and look it up—if you’re unafraid of horny gay feelings, that is.

Summary: Jason Carver sent his sweet, innocent girlfriend to pick up his ‘fix’ from the town freak—a big mistake on his part, but a glorious little surprise for Eddie. An even better surprise comes when he finds out you think you have to foot the bill.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!!! Smut, cheating (not on Eddie), little bit of dark!Eddie, really Eddie’s just a pervy manipulator who’s kind of in love with you, unprotected anal, slut shaming (the girls of Hawkins—not reader), porn with very little plot, maybe dubcon but you’re fully consenting—you just don’t know Jason already paid, skewed idea of virginity (the classic: butt sex doesn’t count as losing it), virgin!innocent!inexperienced!reader, cream pie in the asssss, Eddie lowkey gets off on your pain but he’s overall very sweet, mentions of drugs and drug dealing, sex in exchange for goods, perv!Eddie, if I missed anything pls lmk

Masterlist

It wasn’t Eddie’s fault that Jason sent his pretty, innocent little girlfriend to collect his weed for him. And it wasn’t Eddie’s fault that you didn’t know Jason had already paid. Of course, being the sweet angel that you are, when Eddie informed you of the outstanding balance, you fretted over your lack of dollar bills. But Eddie’s a gentleman, he’d never make a lady pay…in cash, that is.

“And you’re sure he won’t find out?”

Eddie watches you fiddle with your fingers, then the hem of your skirt. You’re so worried Jason will somehow find out, but you’d rather risk that than get yelled at for failing to pick up the goods.

“No, of course not, angel,” he assures, tilting his head to catch your concerned gaze—god, he’s so hard.

“A–And it’s not…um…I’ll still be a virgin if we do it…”

A wicked grin spreads across his face—you can’t even say the words; he’s going to have so much fun with you. Jason should’ve never trusted The Freak with his girl.

“In the ass?” he supplies, relishing the little flinch you give at his lewd words. “Yeah, baby. You know…I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it before.”

His light tone eases your worries—this is no big deal, just a…well, a deal.

“All the girls do it ‘cause they wanna stay virtuous for their future husbands,” he waves his hands in the air, mocking the word ‘virtuous.’ Yeah, the girls of Hawkins are pretty virtuous. Taking it up the ass six ways to Sunday—that’ll get God to notice them, all right. “Just like you. You’ll still be all proper and…intact.”

His cock jumps in his pants at the idea that you’ll be any sort of ‘intact’ once he’s done with you. He feels like a predator luring prey into a trap—he’s never been harder.

“O–Okay. As long as…I just wanna give it to…someone I love,” you say shyly, almost embarrassed by the sentiment of saving yourself. You’re not quite sure if Jason is that someone, but he’s enough company for now.

It takes everything in Eddie not to growl at the way you’re like a little lamb—an unblemished fruit, ripe for the taking. Closing the space between you, he peels off his jacket, smirking as your wide eyes follow his every move. Once he lays the material down on the wooden bench of the old picnic table behind you, he gently guides you to kneel on the cushioned spot—your heart swooning at the realization that he wants you to be comfortable. He’s so nice—you really don’t understand why Jason’s always so mean to him.

With a large, warm hand between your shoulder blades, he guides you down to lean onto the table. “Have you ever done anything before, angel?”

Your face heats up at the intrusive question. Despite your current position, the answer feels more revealing. “Um…one time I let Jason touch me, b–but that’s–that’s about it.”

With your attention on the naked trees in front of you and the faintest glimpse of the school in the distance, he reacts the way he needs to—rolling his eyes back, looking to the sky, and thanking every obscure force and deity for the plentiful bounty they've so delicately placed in his grasp. Collecting himself, Eddie probes you for more information while he gently lifts your pleated skirt to rest on your lower back.

“Touch you where?” he asks, before shoving a white knuckle into his mouth, biting as hard as he can when he sees your pretty pink panties—a delicious wet spot right where your gorgeous little hole is, perfectly accentuating your folds.

Eddie doesn’t expect the haphazard motion you make to your breasts against the wood. He really thought Jason ‘The Creep’ Carver would’ve done more than just grope you—like make you suck him off or at least finger bang you underneath the bleachers, as is custom amongst your kind.

“Just there?”

You nod, “Yeah, I didn’t really wanna go any further. He was upset at me for a week after that…”

Your soft voice makes Eddie grit his teeth, clenching his jaw at the idea that you didn’t let your boyfriend of two years go any further than second base, but you’re going to let the town freak blow through all the bases and fuck your ass—this is the best day of his whole fucking life.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be very happy with you when you bring ‘im his fix. You ready, sweetheart?” His fingers wrap around the elastic waistband of your panties, slowly pulling the soft material down. He has to force himself to remain quiet as the last thing to drop is the fabric stuck to your wet pussy.

You nod, wiggling a bit to readjust on your knees; Eddie bites his lip at the sight, it’s like you’re taunting him. He wishes he could pull your panties off all the way, not just haphazardly shove them down your thighs. With you facing away from him, it would give him the perfect opportunity to bring the thin material to his nose and take a deep whiff. He’s pretty sure that would fix him…or make him worse—he honestly doesn’t care which.

The only sounds in the forest are the crunch of rustling leaves, the clinking of his belt as he undoes his pants, your bated breaths, and the distant chatter of teens meandering to their cars and buses, carried on the wind from the school. If any one of them tries to take a shortcut through the woods on their walk home, they’ll find Jason Carver’s girlfriend with her ass open for Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson—that thought has his stomach jerking with need.

Huffing out a breath, Eddie places both of his ringed hands onto your soft skin, spreading your cheeks to get a good look at what he’s sure will become his favorite place on earth. “Angel?”

You hum in response, ignoring the pitter-patter your heart makes at the nickname—Jason doesn’t really have any endearments for you, so you’re not used to such affection.

“I wanna make sure you feel okay, right?” You nod, urging him to continue. “Well, I need a little…lubricant…and I don’t think my spit is gonna do it.” He could certainly make it work, but he’s playing the long game here.

Eager to help, you softly suggest, “You can use my spit.”

Sighing, he realizes he should’ve known you’d offer that. Right. Changing direction. “Um, that’s very sweet o’you, honey. But…I think I’m gonna need a little more.”

Confused at what else there could be, you try to brainstorm. “Um…I don’t know…”

Eddie glances down at your wet cunt, arousal glistening in the late afternoon sun. He’s practically vibrating with need—he’s so damn close to a place no man has ever explored before and Jesus H. Christ, does he want to be the first.

Trying to restrain himself from shouting the answer or just taking what he needs, he sucks in a calming breath. “What if, um, we use some of the…” he has no clue how to go about this without sounding like this was his plan all along, “wetness, uh, between your…”

Peeking over your shoulder, you let out a noise of surprise. “Oh, uh…if that’s what would work. Um, I t–think that’d be fine. You won’t…go in, will you?”

At your hesitant words, he gives his cock a teasing squeeze, letting out a strained, “No, no, baby. Of course not. I’d never…Only if you wanted me to.” He adds on the last bit knowing it’s a shot in the dark.

“Eddie, you know I can’t. I’m with Jason,” you chide, looking back down to the weathered wood, restless fingers playing with a divot on the surface beneath you.

Worth a shot.

He shakes his head in disbelief, biting his lip; the cognitive dissonance you’re displaying at present is making his cock leak. He knew as soon as he first saw you—you’d be the perfect girl to play with.

“Right! I know, I know,” he hurries, enabling your need to feel virtuous. “So silly of me…”

He practically blows his load all over your ass when you quietly mutter your next words.

“Maybe if I saw you first…”

Fuck.

God, if you saw him first…

The shit he would’ve done to you by now, two years in…

It’d make a whore blush.

Though, he doesn’t feel like he missed out on much. You’re currently in a relationship with Jason, but you’re still bent over a table, your tight ass hole on display for him.

Dragging his mind back to the task at hand, he cautions you, “Now I won’t go inside, but I’m gonna need to go around. S’that okay?”

With another nod, you let out the sweetest string of words he’s ever heard. “I trust you, Eddie.”

Oh, you really shouldn’t, he thinks.

“Perfect, it’ll be just a second,” he mumbles, grasping his stiff cock and guiding it to your slit. He’s not strong enough to stop the beginning of a groan as he feels your wet arousal coat him in warmth. Luckily, he bites back the rest of the noise, not wanting to scare you off.

He’s thankful you can’t see his length because he’s certain that would really scare you off. He can tell how tight your cunt is just by the look of it—you’ve truly never had anything in there before. The fact that you’re letting him rub his bare, leaking cock on your pussy tells him you don’t know a thing about sex, either. All of his precum is mixing with your wetness to make a glorious milky substance and you’re going to go back to your boyfriend pretending to be untouched.

You’re already so wet and getting wetter by the second as he continues to drag his thick length through your fluttering folds. A high-pitched moan escapes your throat when the ridge of his head catches on your clit just right. A rope of precum nearly shoots out of his throbbing slit when you quietly apologize for your noise—god, you’re so fucking sweet.

It’s probably overkill at this point—he’s certainly wet enough to enter your ass, but he’s never been this close to a virgin’s pussy before. If he could just…

Eddie pushes his luck as he glances down, gripping his cock, and guiding the fat head to notch into your hole.

He almost shallowly cums inside of you when your entrance squeezes around his tip, trying to suck him in further. Despite your opening pulsing and luring him in, your voice snaps him out of it.

“Eddie!”

Your worried, shrill tone makes his hips buck unconsciously, sinking another centimeter into you, eliciting a guttural moan from deep within your chest. It takes everything in him to pull away, especially with the pretty sound you just made. Before he does, though, he wraps his index finger and thumb just below the ridge of his cockhead, giving himself a firm squeeze, hoping to leave your sweet cunt with a few drops of precum.

“Sorry, sorry–it got caught,” he lies, “My bad.” His chest is heaving with red-hot desire—he’s 100% going to think about this moment while he fucks his hand later.

“S’okay,” you mutter breathily, trying not to give in to the tingling butterflies his touch leaves behind.

“Gonna do it, now, okay?” His words are almost clinical because he doesn’t have to put on an air of romance for you—you’ve got a boyfriend to do all the fluffing for him.

With your quiet ‘mhm’, he starts to breach the tight ring of your ass. The second his soft tip presses into you, you’re moaning brokenly. You’re so tight, Eddie feels like his cock is being choked.

“Oh, god!” Your strained mewl echoes around the empty air, bouncing from tree-to-tree until it comes right back to Eddie’s ears—like music.

His tongue falls out of his mouth in focus as he spreads your cheeks wider, trying to help you take him. “Shh, shh, sweetheart. Don’t wan’ anybody finding out, do we,” he grits, forcing himself to give it to you slow.

You whine, shaking your head at his words, dropping it against the wooden table as you struggle to breathe through the pain. His mushroom tip is so big, you’re wincing as he mutters praises.

“There you go, angel. Takin’ me so well, I know s’hard. S’gonna be a tight fit.” Punctuating his sentence with a groan, he throws his head back as you yelp, feeling the exact moment his fat cockhead pops into your virgin hole.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you draw out his name in a whine, eliciting a small thrust from his brazen hips.

When he’s met with even more resistance than his initial breach, he tries to calm you down. “Angel, you’re doin’ so well for me, but you gotta relax, baby, you gotta relax.”

“I c–can’t, Eddie, s’too much!” The burn and stretch of his thick cock inside you is making your brain go fuzzy, eyes fluttering as you heave out a dry sob into the splintering wood.

“We can stop whenever you want–”

“No! I wan–I need to have the–the weed, he told me to get it, I need it!”

Thankfully he doesn’t have to manipulate you into staying, you’re already doing it to yourself. Spitting onto his length, he rubs the bubbly liquid in before pushing an inch deeper, swooning at the strangled moan you let out, your panting lips brushing against the old wood. “Okay, okay. We’ll keep going, but only if you want to…”

His cock—less than half-way inside—flexes as you nod messily, forehead scraping against the rough surface of the table. But that pain is the least of your concerns, what with the searing burn of your ass hole. You make the mistake of adjusting yourself on the table, accidentally sending your hips back onto him, taking another inch of his cock.

A pained mewl leaves your lips, “Eddie, it–it hurts!”

In his own little world—relishing his throbbing cock snug in your tight ass—he jerks his hips forward, forcing you to take the rest of him in one go, using the ‘rip the bandaid off’ approach. The broken half-scream that peels from your scratchy throat startles a few birds from the treetops, sending them fluttering away in fright.

“Yeah, baby. It’s supposed to, you’re not used to it yet–fuck–but you will be,” he promises, pulling back half-way and sinking in again.

Soon your pained moans turn into pleasured mewls as your body adjusts to his girth, stretching your unused hole to its limit. “Shit, angel, you feel s’fuckin’ good.”

Eddie’s groans of appreciation make you whine, unconsciously rolling your ass back against his pistoning hips. “Ed–Eddie, oh, god!”

His eyes roll in ecstasy, just picturing the way your dripping hole is clenching around nothing right now, needing to be stuffed. Maintaining a bruising grip on the junction of your hips, he fucks into you, hard. The strong force shoves you up the wooden table in time with his thrusts—your face dragging against the rough surface. He doesn’t let you go far, though, repeatedly yanking your ass back to meet his upper thighs causing a lewd slapping sound that surely gives you away—along with your barely contained moans.

“Fuck, you gotta be quiet. Gotta be quiet, baby, somebody’ll hear,” he grunts, as if he truly gives a shit whether he’s found out. He’d fuck you in front of the whole school if you’d let him.

Another mewling whine from you has his hips faltering in their rhythm. A few particularly hard thrusts cause you to stutter over your strained pleas, the words clawing their way out of your mouth in tune with the barreling of his cock. “B-But it feels, unh, s–s–s–so g–good.”

Your pitiful admission makes Eddie’s balls pull taut to his body, a sure sign that he’s not going to last another second. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, baby! Fuck, I’m cumming, oh, god–m’cumming!”

Relishing the flex of his cock as it twitches inside you, you whimper at his words—you’ve never heard a boy sound so anguished. For some reason, the sound makes your pussy ache, you wish you could clench your thighs.

Once Eddie finds his breath, he starts pulling out of you, eliciting a pathetic sounding whine from your panting lips. Before he fully leaves your sweet little hole, he makes sure to give himself another firm squeeze and a small tug—just to leave you with every last drop of his cum. He watches his milky seed ooze from your gaping ass, heaving out a content sigh before shoving himself back into his jeans. “Oh, fuck, angel…You really earned that weed for your boy, honey.”

The praise makes you preen, letting out the cutest whimper Eddie’s ever heard. He starts shimmying your panties up your thighs, hesitating, he takes a mental picture of the way your hole pushes out some of his spend as you clear your throat. Securing the thin material over your modesty, he slides a ringed hand between your cheeks, pressing the fabric into his cum, wedging it up your ass.

You jolt at his touch, taking the unsanctioned touch as a simple tease from your new friend. “Eddie,” you giggle, straightening up, and messily climbing off the table.

Your knees are still sore, despite his earnest attempt to bring you comfort by laying his jacket out for you. Once you stand up straight, skirt falling back down, you also realize how stiff your legs are—but another sensation takes precedence.

Shock takes over your face as you fling your hands behind you, pressing them both into your ass, a useless attempt to stop his seed from pouring out of you. “Oh my god!”

A grin stretches across Eddie’s features, his eyes alight as he takes in your little dance—you’re squirming, trying to squeeze your thighs together in an effort to mitigate the mess. “Yeah, sorry about that, sweetheart. Shoulda warned you. Your ass isn’t as…malleable as your pussy,” his grin broadens as your eyes widen at his salacious lesson. “S’gonna take a second to…shrink, for lack of a better word. Until then, you might feel a little…leaky,” he chuckles, reveling in the way your virgin ass hole took his massive cock—now you have to suffer the…gaping consequences.

Simply nodding your head, you continue to press both your panties and skirt into your ass, hoping they’ll soak up some of the wetness. Unsure why you want to know, you ask Eddie your burning question. “Did…w–was I good?”

His mouth parts in surprise at your question, but then a wave of giddy heat thrums through his whole body, relaxing his features into a pleased smile. Closing the short distance between you, he rubs his fingers across your cheeks, working his way up to the small scrape on your forehead. His eyes are full of awe, and you're going to have to come up with an excuse to your boyfriend about the random scrape on your otherwise unblemished skin—the thought causes his soft cock to twitch.

“You were so good, angel. I hate to say it, but Carver’s a lucky guy. He’s got such a devoted, loyal girlfriend.”

Too busy swooning at his soft touch and compliments, you completely miss the wicked glint in his eyes at the reminder of just how devoted…you are. The moment your body begins to sway, leaning into the heat of his chest with bated breath and heavy lids over wanting, wandering eyes, he pulls away—shattering the trance he had you under, leaving you nearly stumbling after him.

The clinking of metal draws your attention to a black lunchbox sitting on the wooden bench you hadn’t noticed until now. From inside it, Eddie pulls a small baggie of a dry, dusty green looking pile of…herbs? You’re pretty sure it’s the weed, but Jason never lets you partake, so you’re not 100% sure what the substance looks like.

“Here you are, sweetheart. And go ahead and tell your little boyfriend he can send you back anytime he wants,” he shoots you a flirtatious grin.

Taking the baggie from him, you try to fight the smile off your face, feeling bashful at his unending flirtation despite your numerous warnings. “Eddie,” you chide, only half-serious, now catching on to how playful your new friend tends to be.

Throwing his hands up in surrender, he cocks his head to catch your shy gaze, “I know, I know. I just happen to think you’re a much prettier face to strike a deal with.” He pushes his luck once more—he just can’t help himself. “How ‘bout this, I’ll cut the price in half if he sends you next time.”

Smiling, you shake your head at his audacity. “We’ll see. Thanks for…”

Fucking you?

Cumming in your ass?

Making your virgin hole his?

Letting you pay with your body?

“...Everything,” you finish, leaning up onto your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. It’s too bad you rubbed all your lipgloss onto the picnic table when you couldn’t stop panting and moaning into the old wood. But your soft lips still smell of cherries, so he’ll take it.

Pulling back, you meet his wide eyes. He's thankful his big brown irises generally give off a sad, puppy-dog look; otherwise, you'd probably catch onto the felonious hunger in his gaze.

“For being sweet,” you add on. The way your blackened lashes flutter at him—if he didn’t know how truly innocent you are, he’d think you’re giving him ‘fuck me again’ eyes. The sight has his cock stirring, already half-hard from just your chaste kiss.

“‘Course, angel.”

You seem to have almost a physical reaction when he uses the endearment on you outside of being in your ass. Your smile widens, body bristling with restlessness as he catches a glimpse of your thighs squeezing. It’s not lost on him that you didn’t get to cum. You’re probably so needy, you’re barely containing it in front of him. He knows how wet you are, he saw the aftermath.

Leaving you so worked up, on the edge of completion as your orgasm recedes like waves before a tsunami—he’s certain this won’t be his last time with you. He’s pretty sure you’re not about to go fuck your boyfriend, so maybe you’ll remember how welcoming and kind Eddie was and turn to him in your time of desperation.

You’ll be back. He’s almost certain of it.

A/N: That'll make your puthy throb. Reblog, like, and comment to support me and lmk your thoughts!!!!!!!!!!

Tag List: @defututus @ratsematary @american-idiot-jpg @glassbxttless @justalotoffanfiction @savybabyyy @thepinkpanther83 @sorayasworld @slaytheusurper @dangerousnbeautiful @hellmastereddie @ali-r3n @lilithera0 @tlclick73 @joonbread @jesterghuleh @bellalillyrose @bigboymoozz @am0iur @pastelpoppies @lionkingshiddenmessage @girlwedontcare @cheesesandwichsanto @avenjames-anderson @munsonzgf @iheartgrayson @cowboylikemunson @skyfullofsong123 @thepurplelovewitch @munsondjarin @jayden-killer @fairylights-throughthemist @hippiegoth97 @whoschantel @wolfqueenxxx @kelsiegrin @ashly1576 @seedlingghost @alexxavicry @forrest-of-hearts @wheel-of-hyperfixation

#oh I am horny now so

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eddiernunson · 3 months ago

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unless they specifically asked, you don’t get to tell a fanfic writer you think they mischaracterized the character by the way. because the second someone writes a fanfic about a character, that character becomes the writer’s own version of the character. canon is only a suggestion, but whether or not an author will follow it / how much of canon an author will take is entirely up to them. you don’t get to stick your nose in their world and tell them “hey this is not to my liking therefore I think you’re doing it wrong” when you can simply leave quietly and move on to something else you may enjoy

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eddiernunson · 3 months ago

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Babe who gives a fuck if your writing is cringe! You have to start somewhere! If you can't find it, write it! Post your cringey shit and whoever likes it, likes it! and whoever doesn't doesn't! I post for me only babe and if u happen to like it, that's what's up babe.

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eddiernunson · 3 months ago

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hehehehe

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eddiernunson · 3 months ago

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Happy one year anniversary to the ending of a fic that went way farther than I had ever imagined

I’m not active as much and I apologize but in this current phase of life doesn’t lead as much energy towards fics as I once had.

That being said I still lurk and read and cannot believe some fics are still getting traction

Thanks for your support in my writing and for having fun with older Eddie in this series and for making me give Dylan a happy ending

- Maddie 💜

Really Drives Me Mad | Older!Eddie x Fem!Reader | 18+

Prev Part l Master List |

Word Count: 10k

A SPECIAL HAPPY BIRTHDAY POST. (I’m 28 y’all)

Chapter contains: brief pregnant!reader, babies/kids…this is like a lil collection of blurbs. I have some head canons about each OC I can post if you’d like xoxo

I had ideas about their kids for ages, lol. This crazy lil family is chaotic

Still thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you and @bebe07011 for without you two this fic wouldn’t nearly be this good

Third trimester is a bitch. I barely have the bandwidth to write lately. I hope you enjoy

Two pink little lines stare back at you as Eddie turns the shower on, completely oblivious to the manic state you’re in.

He offers you to join him, a temptation you decline with an intense amount of reluctance. You just claim you need your own bed, which was true.

Eddie missed four weeks of work while you were on your luxe honeymoon, which means he now has several fires to put out. It keeps him busy for the week, making the doctor’s appointments and blood work you do that much easier when he passes right out on his couch at the end of his long days.

The following week, knowing you're pregnant but not being able to tell him is pure torture. It doesn't help that for some odd reason Eddie seems more lovey, more affectionate. Your first instinct is to chalk it up to your newlywed status, but his affection feels different, the way his arms wrap around you each morning to wake you up, his gentle voice low in your ear. It's driving you up a wall not being able to share your secret with him.

He seems to consistently have a hard time letting you go to leave for work (not that you’re complaining.) Though eventually you have to practically push him out the door.

The ultrasound is nearly dull, the implantation in question is only a bundle of cells, but once you get a photo from the tech at the end of the appointment, it’s the very thing you needed to tell Eddie.

After another early night of falling asleep you empty the face of the fridge, yanking every magnet off as you place the sonogram on the silver surface with a pink heart magnet right at his eye level.

Eddie wakes in the middle of the night, a sudden urge to rise hitting him out of nowhere. His arm tightens around your waist, admiring your pretty face as he kisses your cheek. Your face falters only the littlest bit, twitching your muscles to shake off the tickle of his stubble.

He finds himself starving, craving something only a feral racoon would also be satisfied with. He rubs his eyes as he walks down the steps. Sometimes he thinks he’s going to see you back in the kitchen chair in the dress and bathing suit, Dylan searching manically for a parking pass as if Eddie has imagined this whole dream scenario. Your love is just too good not to think he’d made it all up at times. He smiles to himself as he turns on the stove light, turning to the fridge for a snack.

He feels frozen by the blank fridge at first, wondering where all the magnets got to. The black and white image staring him dead in the face suddenly registers, the heart shaped magnet falling to the floor as he rushes to pick it up to make sure his tired eyes aren’t fucking with him. They bulge out of his head when the significance of the photo occurs to him, and the hunger that woke him up seems to vanish.

His long legs take the stairs two and three at a time as he rushes back to you, hurling himself beneath the covers.

The cold of his arms startles you, a gasp leaving your lips from the shock as you abruptly awoke. “Hmm?”

“Are you fucking pregnant, sweetheart?” His eyes are unbearably soft, melted pools of milk chocolate staring intently at you.

A burst of sleepy giggles leaves your mouth, turning your body so you don't have to crane your neck. “You got up early.” You comment, weaving your fingers into his curls.

“Skip the pleasantries, love.” He dismisses, scooping his arms beneath your back. “Are you fucking pregnant?”

You pull him in for a kiss, your legs wrapping around his hips to pull him down against you. “What’s the sonogram tell you?”

He chuckles against your lips, his thumbs swaying against your smiling cheeks. “You’re a little shit, you know that?” You nod, absentmindedly playing with his curls. “Fuck, I’m so excited right now, baby.”

“Really?” You ask him, grinning.

“I just found out my wife is having my baby. Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks, rutting his hips against yours desperately. “I’m rock hard, sweets.”

Lucky for you and him, you opted for a pair of tiny panties and a t-shirt to bed, feeling his hardened cock against the thin lace fabric of your panties. Your fingers fumble to his boxers, hurriedly pushing them down his hips. “Then fuck me.”

Eddie gently pulls the fabric aside, exposing it as his head perfectly brushes against your entrance. “God, my girl is soaked for me, ain’t she?”

Your thighs tighten around his hips, jaw dropping as he teases you. “Want you, please, Ed.” Your eyes squeeze shut, relishing in the feeling of him pressed against you

He pushes in, arms wrapping themselves around your torso. “Oh my god you’re having my fucking baby,” Eddie mumbles, face curling into your neck. “Gonna see your stomach all big when you’re carrying my baby, sweets, and you’ll be even hotter than you are now. Which I thought was impossible.”

No words come to mind, mouth open and gasping at the way he moves in you. The cotton of your shirt is too hot, your hands shakily grabbing at the fabric to take it off. Eddie admires the sight he sees as your piqued nipples fall out of his faded black t-shirt, his eyes glazed over as he stares down at them. A moth drawn to the light, he dives into one, curling his tongue around the nipple with the perfect mix of teeth, pulling little mewls from you.

“Fuck, we’re gonna be the happiest little family,” he chokes, kissing from your breast up to your neck, his voice filled with emotion.

“Love you,” you sigh, gasping into his open mouth as his hips hit you harder.

Eddie smiles, a wicked little grin as his hand curves over the swell of your tummy, thumb petting it gently.

“Hold on to me, sweetheart. Hold on to your baby daddy,” you grin the line, wonderfully cheesy, but Eddie feels the way you tighten around him. Your arms curl around his back, pulling his body against yours.

“Eddie, make me cum, please.”

“Hold on, baby, I’m almost there, hold on,” he stutters, his deep voice starting to falter. His lips bend down to your ear, gasping desperately, bordering on whining. “Fuck– cum with me.”

His lips wrap around yours, delicately connecting his tongue with yours as his hips stutter a final time, the little moans vibrating against your lips as he fills you up. As you collapse on the bed, sweaty bodies intertwined, he spends the twenty minutes until he falls asleep cooing, whispering in your ear how excited he is.

You wake up the same way, with rounds two and three before he begrudgingly trudges off to work.

The sun accounts as a natural alarm clock as Dylan stretches his limbs wide, turning to face his girlfriend. His arm falls over Maya’s form, pulling her in as he starts to wake up. “Morning, Dylan,” she whispers, her pink lips spreading into a smile.

He pulls her back against his stomach, hiking his legs under hers. “Mornin’.”

She hums as he kisses the back of her neck, giggling as he takes a deep inhale of her shampoo. “You work today?”

“No,” Dylan answers, caressing the strip of her exposed skin with his thumb. “I am seeing my dad today.”

She smirks, turning to face him. “And your stepmom?” Dylan grits his teeth, tickling her stomach until she begs him to stop, hunching over the arm around her. “Okay, I’m sorry!”

“Mmhm. I’m telling them, did you want to join me?”

Maya squishes her face, seemingly debating on pros and cons. “I’m gonna pass on that, respectfully.” She can feel the questioning look Dylan gives her. “I have a long shift today, and I am exhausted.”

“Next time, I’m dragging you with me,” Dylan insists, squeezing with his arms wrapped around her.

“I’m counting on it.”

As soon as Dylan opens the door, he listens in, waiting for a sound that never comes. Good, he waited long enough to come. He wanders into the kitchen, meeting his dad drinking orange juice straight from the carton. “Dad?”

His dad freezes, removing the spout from his mouth, and wipes his face hurriedly. “Hey bud.”

Dylan raises his eyebrow at him, pointedly glancing to the carton and back to him.

“Don’t tell my wife.”

Dylan smirks, rolling his eyes. “Speaking of the devil, where is she?”

“Upstairs.”

As if your ears are burning, the two men’s ears pick up the particular sound of someone coming down the stairs. Eddie prays you come downstairs with some clothes on. Your face lights up when you see Dylan, welcoming him into your arms without a second thought. “Dylan!” The familiarity you two share is still new, but wrapping him in a hug is like second nature at this point. “What brings you into this part of the world?”

You leave the embrace, backing straight into Eddie’s arm. “Actually, I have some news I wanna share with you guys.”

Eddie’s hand tightens around your arm, he’s mentioned Dylan talking about proposing last month, and this news felt right around the corner. He feigns ignorance, innocently asking, “Oh, what news would that be?”

Dylan’s cheeks bloom in red, glancing down to his feet sheepishly. You just hoped you wouldn’t have to travel to a destination wedding while largely pregnant. “Uh, we–or, Maya,” he clears his throat, a laugh stuttering through it, “Maya’s pregnant.”

The first thing you do is glance at your husband, both sporting wide eyes and slacked jaws. To say you’re surprised is a grand understatement.

“Not the news you were expecting?” Dylan asks, watching the two of you share a silent conversation.

In sync, the two of you switch back to him, twin smiles on your faces. Dylan had no idea what either of the faces in front of him could possibly mean, and there’s a part of him that wonders if this is happy news for either of you.

“Um, no, actually,” Eddie barely holds back the sound of laughter in his voice. “That’s, that’s fantastic news, Dyl.” Truly, fantastic news. Eddie has been looking forward to being a biker grandfather since Dylan showed interest in being a father.

You smirk, leaning into his shoulder. “How far along is she?”

“Uh, 8 weeks, or so,” Dylan answers, squishing up his face comically.

“Oh wow, so a week behind me, then,” you say nonchalantly, nodding at Eddie.

“Wait, what?” Dylan asks, making sure he understood that correctly.

You giggle, nodding as you sit your head in Eddie’s neck. “Yeah, I’m pregnant too, ironically enough.”

Eddie leans into your ear, “So you’re gonna be a mom and a grandma in the same year…”

Your eyes widen. “To think, I was just getting used to the idea of being a mom.” You lean back, meeting your husband’s pretty brown eyes. “Are we sure the kid’s gonna call me grandma?”

Dylan picks up the conversation right away. “I mean, unless we’re gonna be completely honest with them, it doesn't make sense otherwise. You’re grandpa’s wife, therefore grandma.”

Am I mom, then, too? You think to yourself, knowing you’ll point it out later. Your stomach rumbles, turning around to the counter to start making a breakfast of sorts. Your eyes hit the open orange juice jug and the lack of cup. “Did you drink straight out of the carton, again, mister?”

Eddie avoids your eyes, looking at his son. “Hey, I didn’t say anything,” he surrenders, having a seat at the island.

“How’s Maya been handling the pregnancy so far?” you ask, grabbing a pan from under the cupboards. “Because morning sickness is no joke.” You pause, leaning on the counter. “Not just in the morning, either.”

“I think it’s some nausea, a bit of acid reflux, but to my knowledge she hasn’t been sick,” Dylan says, taking out his phone to text Maya about the news.

“Bitch,” you mutter, the tone in your voice clear you’re joking. “We can’t all be so lucky. Eggs?”

Dylan nods, grinning at the text Maya shoots back. “So dad, you’re gonna have a kid and a grandkid the same age as each other?”

Eddie shrugs, taking another large sip from the carton. “Since my girl showed up, my life hasn’t been normal, and this just means it will never be normal again.”

“You’re welcome,” Dylan laughs, rolling his eyes at the exasperated look you shoot at him.

Dylan’s phone buzzes, glancing at the unknown number as Maya fades in the middle of her sentence. “One minute, babe, I’m expecting a call from the interview I just did last week. Dylan Munson, speaking.”

“Oh, Dyl-pickle, you sound so big!” Only one person has ever called Dylan that. He gulps, the sound of her voice bringing up old, sore emotions.

“Brooke. W-why are you calling me?”

“Brooke? C’mon, I’m your mom, sweetheart,” she whines, her voice the sound of nails on a chalkboard.

“Really, are you?” Dylan asks, getting up from the bed and starting to pace the hallway, his anger already building. “Ok, what college did I go to?” Silence. “What did I major in? What year did I graduate high school? When did I have my first kiss? Who’s my current girlfriend? What’s my best friend’s name? What sort of vehicle do I drive?”

She doesn’t answer a single question, instead giving stuttered empty answers. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to answer any of that… We haven’t exactly been talking for the last fifteen years.” She says, somewhat accusatory.

Dylan sighs, rubbing his face frustratedly. “What, your phone didn’t work all those years?”

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m not the only one who had a phone,” she protests, sounding incredibly defensive.

“Yeah, well, you also weren’t a child for 8 of those years who begged his dad for his mom to come to one thing that was important to him,” Dylan retaliated, angry at her gaslighting. “My dad had your number, always left voicemails inviting you to my soccer games, to award ceremonies, to my birthdays, and you never answered a single call, let alone showed up.”

“I’m sorry, Dylan, I am, but I was young then, you can’t blame me for wanting a fresh start.”

“Actually, I can,” Dylan answers, now done with this conversation. “You had eight years to be a mom before I finally gave up on you. You don’t get to pick and choose when to be my mom, now.”

“I’m sorry that hurt your feelings, Dyl. But I have two boys, and they really want to meet their older brother. Would you come down for lunch one day?”

He nods, knowing that this sudden need to be a mom again wasn’t going to come for free. “No. I have no interest in being your life. Not since the day I turned 18.”

“C’mon, Dyl–”

“No, mom–Brooke. No. Don’t call me again, please. I need to go now.”

She starts another sentence, but Dylan hangs up on her before he hears it. When he walks into the bedroom he shares with his girlfriend, he crawls into the bed next to her, feeling like the ten year old whose life got torn apart.

It looks like Brooke still has that uncanny talent for making everything about her.

Eddie sits in his office, a small room decorated with frames filled with the faces of those he loves and papers strewn around the desk. He’s going over the receipts and payments, and silently regrets not having hired an accountant by now, but he’s far too stubborn to admit it.

There’s a knock on the door and Eddie looks up in relief. Please, let there be a disgruntled customer to save him from the numbers. “Come on in!”

Connor, one of the new apprentices he hired only a few months ago comes in, looking timid. The first few months he has a new hire they’re usually shy, and when their self confidence in their ability to do their job kicks in, Eddie truly starts to miss it. “Uh, hey, boss, there’s a client out there who wants to speak to you.”

Eddie chuckles, leaning back in his chair as he rests his feet on his desk. “Don’t, don’t call me boss. What do they want?”

Connor screws up his face. “Uh, I forgot to ask.”

“Always ask, man. Tell them I’ll be right out.”

“Alright, I’ll tell her.” Eddie sighs in relief, women tend to be more understanding.

“Hey, send in Joe, will ya?”

“On it!”

Joe, a man who’s worked for Eddie for 20 years, older by ten years, walks into the office just a moment later. “What’s up, Ed?”

“Give the lady a talk, will ya?” Eddie asks, scratching the itch on his right forearm. “Ask her what she wants.” Joe, tall, dark, and quiet, nods and shuts the door.

He’s back in the office in seconds. The door’s loose knob has barely clicked shut before it’s abruptly opened again. “That fast?”

Joe shakes his head, his eyes wide with a grimace on his face. “Uh, no, it’s…it’s Brooke.”

Eddie scrunches his face up. “Brooke, like…Brooke?”

“Yeah. You want me to–”

“No it’s okay, I got it,” Eddie insists, a pit forming in the depths of his stomach. He rubs his face tiredly, fully unprepared to deal with this.

“Dude, you sure?” He asks, having been with Eddie through the divorce.

“Seriously, I got it. Thanks, man.”

Eddie gets up from his desk, catching the eyes of his long-time employees on his way to the entrance of the garage. He’s fine. He’ll be fine.

There she stands, looking around the garage holding her purse with two hands. She’s dressed like one of those Instagram moms, high waisted jeans with a loose blouse tucked in under a long coat. Her eyes land on him, her face lighting up as she exclaims, “Wow, the garage looks great!”

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, sighing. “Is there a particular reason for…”

Brooke smiles, and Eddie could almost see a genuine human behind the mask. “Um, do you mind if we go into your office?”

Eddie raises his brows, perplexed. “I really don’t see the necessity for it.”

“It’s not really a conversation to have in front of the guys, Eds,” Brooke comments, shuffling her feet as she crosses her arms.

Eddie winces at the nickname she calls him. She really doesn’t know him well enough to call him such anymore. The audacity of it astounds him. “I’m not Eds to you…and my office holds things that are precious to me, that I honestly want to keep out of this conversation.”

“Like I haven’t already seen pictures of your little wife,” Brooke grimaces, her tone switching from sweet to condescending in a split second, her eyes rolling. “Congrats on that, or whatever.”

Eddie blinks, too exhausted to argue. “Alright, come on.”

It's not like Brooke hasn’t been in his office before, Eddie thinks, they were happily married, after all. She looks around at the changes, her eyes seemingly fixated on where photos of Dylan’s previous achievements are proudly displayed. “Wow, he looks just like you,” Brooke mutters, a look on her face that Eddie can’t quite place.

Eddie assessed the bulletin, Dylan’s graduation, first school dance, the Munsons spending a weekend at the Harrington’s, it certainly spelled out to her what she missed out on.

He clears his throat, quietly asking for her to continue. “Right, um, I was wondering if you could talk to our son.”

“Our son?” Eddie asks, barely holding back his laughter. “Last time I checked you said he was my son.”

Brooke ignores it, faltering in her seat. “I tried calling him last week, but he shut me down.”

“What do you need me to talk to him about exactly?” Eddie leans against his desk, his hands gripping the edge.

Brooke blinks, tilting her head. “When did you cut your hair?”

“Irrelevant. What do you need me to talk to him about?” Eddie enunciates, already feeling the exhaustion of her mere soul sucking presence.

“My sons are asking questions about him, and they would like to meet him.” She inhales, as if preparing herself for what she was about to say, “I would love to reconnect with both of you, honestly.”

Like an anvil, Eddie feels his stomach pull him all the way down into the floor. The silence she’s given him and Dylan for the last fifteen years has been stable, reliable even. The most reliable thing about her. This is turning off the road into a ditch with nothing to instigate it. “What did he say?”

“Uh, he had no interest in it,” Brooke shrugs, leaning back in her seat.

Eddie nods, having expected it. “Brooke, those pictures on the wall? My son spent so much time begging me to call and get you to at least one event, one time just to show that you still cared about him.” He pauses, watching her avoid his eyes. “I left dozens of voicemails in your inbox, and I know it was your inbox, because I remember the day it went from Munson to Prescott. I begged you to show up. Just once. The last time I did was for his graduation, but by then I had stopped telling him.”

“He told our lawyers and the judge he wanted nothing to do with me. Forgive me if I thought he was telling the truth,” Brooke huffs, her voice sounding defensive.

“He was a child, Brooke!” Eddie deadpans, narrowing his eyes. “A child hurt by his mother’s actions tearing apart his happy family. Staying with the stable parent was probably the more appealing option.” He scratches at the stubble on his face, glancing over to the sonogram sitting on his desk. He’d hoped Brooke hadn’t caught wind of that news, yet. “At first, he was really hurt, but after a while, he just wanted his mom. Who never showed up.”

“Well, I might be a little late, but doesn’t it count for something that I’m trying, now?” She asks, folding her arms across her chest.

“I think it counts more that he’s about to be a father and he has no interest in including you in his kid’s life.”

Her eyes bug right out of her head. “Wait, what?”

“Mmhm. Seems he’d rather give what was supposed to be your title to someone he’s known for less than a year.” Eddie flickers to the photo of you he has framed, a portrait of you surrounded by the sunset in your wedding dress. “You had eight years, Brooke. Eight. You don’t get to decide to be a parent when it’s convenient for you. I never had that luxury. I had to pick myself and my son up and find a way to get through it emotionally without falling apart at the seams.”

She seems to start talking, but Eddie is on a roll. “I finally feel like I’m living my life, and not just surviving. If you reached out five years ago, I probably would’ve said yes. I even had a low enough self-esteem to hope it would mean something more…but now I have this woman, this beautiful person who showed me how much she believes I’m worth, showed me how much I am worth. Brooke, no offense, but when I look back on it, especially comparing the two, you treated me like shit.”

“Uh, okay,” Brooke mutters, holding her hand out. “I did not treat you like shit.”

“You never stuck up for me with your parents, forced me to do things I was uncomfortable with all the time, gave ‘our’ son’s teachers hell all the time, and, oh yeah, left me for the person you told me not to worry about. So, no I will not be talking to my son. If he comes to the conclusion to reconnect with you, then fine. But I will not be participating.”

“Wow, you’re being harsh.” Brooke complains, grimacing. “Eddie, I was young. I made a few stupid decisions.”

“You know, my wife is a bit young. Somehow, she already knows not to act like a stone cold cunt.” Brooke stutters through an empty response, completely rendered speechless. “I think we’re done here.”

“I’m not done!”

“Well, I suggest you be by the time my pregnant wife gets here, because she’s not your biggest fan.” It gives him the utmost satisfaction to start looking through the papers. He glances back up to her expectant expression. “Safe travels back to Boston, hmm?”

Eddie swears the smile on your face in the photo of you grows, glad the backbone he needed seems to have finally grown. “You’re not going to even–”

“No. I’m not. I’m done here, Brooke. Give Kevin my condolences, yeah?”

Brooke nods, reluctantly understanding she wasn’t going to get what she wanted. Eddie had indeed grown the self-confidence she never saw when she was with him. “Condolences?”

“Yeah, for still being stuck with you. Close the door on your way out.”

Brooke’s nostrils flare, her jaw locking. She turns around without another word, the slam of the door echoing through the garage as she storms out, every click of her heel enunciated.

Moments later, Joe pops through the door. “Everything, ok, Ed?”

Eddie looks up, his dimples pronounced on his face. “Oh just, peachy, Joe. Mind if I take off for the rest of the day?”

“I would be concerned if you didn’t, man.”

The ringing of your phone stirs you from your slumber, having passed out on the couch mid snack. An app you downloaded on your phone for the pregnancy said the first trimester would have you feeling quite sleepy, and you didn’t believe it until you find yourself constantly falling asleep during your off days, and exhausted at work when you really shouldn’t be.

Your sister’s name lights up the screen, and the quick assessment of the movie tells you you’ve been asleep for at least forty-five minutes. “Hey, Viti.”

“Hey, sis,” she greets, an airy tone in her voice. “Sounds like you just woke up.”

You haven’t broken the news to your family, yet, waiting to present the information in the form of a present next time you and Eddie make your way over to your parents’ house. “Had an afternoon siesta,” you sigh, watching the movie you’re tempted to restart. The twist of Carlisle’s death just isn’t the same if you don’t build up to it. “What’s up?”

She sighs, a habit you’re all too familiar with. “Spit it out.”

“Okay,” she starts, gaining her courage. “Me and Arlo got together the night of your wedding.”

If you were attempting to get rid of any sense of sleep, it disappeared within a second. The information takes a second to register, eyes darting around the living room filled with wrappers you have yet to throw out. “Harrington?”

She laughs, probably expecting a much worse answer. “Do you know any other Arlos?”

“Guess not.” You pet the bangs in your eyes away from your face, trying to remind yourself of the look on your baby sister’s face when she was slow dancing with him. “Ok. How did it happen?”

“You’re okay with this?” She asks, your heart melting at how little her voice sounds.

“It was never my choice, Vi,” you answer, using the remote to restart the movie. “If you like him and trust him, then, yeah, I’m okay with it. So how did it happen? Tell me all about it. But if you’ve slept with him, then maybe not all about it,” You chuckle. Viti sighs exasperatedly and you can practically hear her eyes roll through the phone.

“Um, so we were kind of flirting a lot after the family dinner. I thought he was just being nice, but I was willing to be his friend. It got a bit more intense at the wedding, and he asked me to dance…”

“I saw,” you admit, granted you only saw because Eddie pointed it out to you. “What happened after that?”

You can hear the smile on her face. “He led me to a hallway, and then we went to the hotel room I was staying in…” She trails off sheepishly. Oh, that's all you need to know.

“Damn, girl!” you laugh, opting to push away the mental image and simply be your sister's friend right now.

“We went to dinner last week,” she says, a giggle laced through her sentence. “I really, really like him.”

It had to be Arlo Harrington. “Then I’m really, really happy for you. Have you told everyone else yet?”

“You’re the last to know, to be honest. I think Eddie even knows at this point.” You roll your eyes, because of course that’s why he was so peculiar this morning.

“Just because I don’t necessarily approve of the choice of boy doesn’t mean I won’t be happy for you. Plus, I could get used to him, after all, Steve isn’t so bad.” That’s a damn lie, Steve Harrington has become one of your favorite people. “Tell me you got out of the hotel room before mom and dad discovered you.”

“We heard them coming down the hall…” she says, giggling. “We were dressed as they were about to come in the door. Luckily, they were both pretty drunk, so they didn’t really catch on to what was happening. Well, until the next morning at brunch, I guess.”

Note, send a text to your mom asking about what her perspective was, because there’s a chance she knew more than she let on. You think to yourself.

“Anyway, four weeks in Cancun. Spare me the dirty details but tell me all about it,” she giggles, moving the phone away from her face, “shut up, stop, shut up!’

“Let me guess. Arlo?”

A burst of giggles runs through her body and you can hear the smile on her face. “Maybe,”

“You couldn’t wait until you were alone?”

“She’s not really alone all that much these days,” Arlo’s voice rings out. You can picture the smug smirk on his face.

“Arlo!” She chides him, and yeah, this might not be so bad, you decide.

“I’m gonna let you two go,” you offer, dismissing any protests she let out. “Also, without the dirty details there’s not much of the honeymoon to tell. Well, except one thing.”

“What?”

“You'll have someone new to meet in seven months!”

“No way!”

If there’s one thing you know, it’s Christina Perri’s A Thousand Years is the song for the last credit scene of the Twilight Series. As each character is shown with the corresponding credit, it gets closer and closer to the main cast.

It might just be the hormones, but this round of credits just seems to hit differently, tears spilling down your cheeks as it gets to the Cullen family. The front door to the house slams shut, announcing the arrival of your husband. Odd, he’s about three hours early.

The weight of the cushion next to you sinks down with a comforting arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your head falls easily into his embrace, curling into his lap as you sniffle. It’s ridiculous, the irrational reaction that takes over you, but damn do the editors know how to elicit a reaction out of the audience.

His hand pets your shoulder, kissing your forehead. “You crying at Twilight?”

You nod, furrowing your eyebrows. “Lose the smug attitude, mister. This is your doing.”

He laughs under his breath, petting your hair. “Hmm, that’s not how I remember our honeymoon.”

You tilt your head back to look at his face, fretting at the curls that are starting to resemble closer to a mullet. “Just because I begged for your babies does not mean you had to listen to me.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips that takes the breath out from your lungs. As he backs away, he hums with a peculiar look on his face. “What’s on your mind?” You ask, your brows knitting together.

Eddie sighs, petting the bare skin exposed on your hip. “Minor Brooke update, today.”

Your brows instinctively rise, feeling every little muscle in your face tense up. “Oh?”

“Yup. Are you interested?”

You close your eyes, asking any entity out there listening for a lick of patience. “You piqued my interest. Lay it on me.”

Eddie can’t beat around the bush, or he would never say it. “She came into my work today.” He pauses, allowing you to absorb the information before continuing. “Requesting that I convince Dylan to…let her back into his life, so to say.” You squint, remembering the few times that Dylan had confessed about his mom to you, always finishing by claiming he wants nothing to do with her and never will.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” you comment, watching his eyes flicker back and forth between yours.

“She reached out to him last week and when he refused, I guess the next most logical step was to drive the six hours from Boston and corner me at work.” Your teeth grit, angry at the fucking gall that fills Brooke whatever-the-fuck her last name is. God forbid Steve or Eddie ever accidentally tell you what it is, because the day it comes her inbox will be flooded with just a little piece of your mind, and she'll be lucky if profanities are the worst things you say.

“What are you thinking?” He asks, having watched your face move through the storm of emotions.

“I was thinking that I fucking hate your ex-wife and if she has no haters then I’m dead,” you answer, dead panning.

“I love you,” he sighs, tugging you in against his chest. “Are you hungry?”

You look at the wrappers decorating the mahogany coffee table, “Surprisingly yes.”

“Lets get a real meal in you, shall we?”

Eddie is present at every doctor's appointment, every ultrasound, birthing class, and even at 20 weeks, when you were inexplicably spotting, stayed with you throughout the 7 hour wait at the ER. He certainly helped you hide from the embarrassment of the doctor explaining the bleeding seemed to be brought on by intercourse and to start being a bit more careful.

Only one time does a health care worker mistake Eddie for being your father, a mistake quickly fixed at the death glare he gives her. You don’t know how, as you look nothing alike and he has been doting on you too affectionately to be a dad, but you can’t help teasing him by calling him daddy as soon as she leaves the room.

Well, that’s a lie.

There is one other time he’s mistaken for your father, running into the maternity ward and anxiously stating your name to the front desk of labor nurses. The head nurse, a woman bearing silver streaks in her hair, calmly tells him to relax and sit down, only the baby’s father is allowed in the room with patients.

“Well you better take me to my wife, then,” he deadpans, his eyes harsh enough to shoot daggers if it were physically possible.

She stutters through her response. “Oh, you-you’re her husband? I’m so sorry I assumed–my mistake, she’s in the third door on the left.”

He rushes to the door, ignoring her last pleas for forgiveness. He was far too busy focusing on how he knew he shouldn’t have gone into work when he knew you were due to go into labor any day now. He knew he should've told them to ask Joe for the solution, as he was basically acting owner while he was away.

When he bursts through the door, you’re sat on the bed in the room with Bethany petting your face as you push through a particularly hard contraction.

He waits and watches anxiously for you to get through it before announcing his arrival. As soon as your eyes land on him he sees your face crumple in relief and your hands reach out for him. “Baby,” you whine, seeking the comfort of his shampoo and cologne.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, planting a big kiss on the hand that was reached out. “Thank you so much, Bethany, for taking her.”

She shrugs, dismissing his over exaggerated gratitude. “She’s been a champ. Let me know if you two need anything.”

Eddie pets your hair, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. “How’ve you been, baby?”

“Only been an hour, and I am so over labor,” you whine, smiling pathetically. “Thanks for coming so fast.”

Eddie was surprised he didn’t get pulled over, going 90 down the freeway. He turned a 20 minute drive into 8. “Made any progress?”

“I’m only one centimeter dilated. We could be here for a while.”

“I’m here every minute,” he says, grabbing a chair to sit by your bed. “I believe in you. We’ll listen to Taylor, listen to a smutty audio book, watch a true crime series, whatever you want, baby.”

True to his word, he allowed you to blast your Faves Spotify playlist, watched a few episodes of 48 Hours with you, and even sat with you as he let you play with the makeup you had packed in your hospital bag on his face.

You made him look like a Captain Jack Sparrow, giggling as he animatedly talks in a pirate voice. The best thing about Eddie being there is that he wards off your parents and others who wish to visit you in your labor and acts as your advocate when the nurse is too rough with you and requests a new nurse immediately. Well, and his presence alone puts you at ease, of course.

It feels like forever, but you’re eight centimeters dilated when a familiar face walks down the hall, passing his father as he carries the millionth cup of ice chips you requested. “Bud! Did someone text you about–”

“She told me when Bethany was driving her to the hospital, but that’s actually not why we’re here,” Dylan sheepishly admits, his shoulders shrugging up to his ears as a pink blooms across his cheeks.

“We?” Eddie catches on, blinking. “Is Maya also..?”

“Yeah, we got here about three hours ago,” he squinted one eye comically, crossing his arms. “She’s about halfway there, now I think.”

“Wow she’s progressing a lot faster than we did,” Eddie comments, it taking you far more than three hours to get to five centimeters.

“It would be ironic wouldn’t it, if they had the same birthday?”

“Irony is one word for it,” Dylan chuckles. “My girlfriend asked for ice chips about eight minutes ago, and she is not patient, so I’m going to get back to it.”

“Let us know any updates, won’t you?”

“I bet my kid will be born before yours,” Dylan answers, only somewhat joking.

“Oh, you’re on, dude.”

As nurses and the doctor rushes around you, frantically assessing the baby while helping you with the afterbirth, birthing the placenta and ridding the bodily fluids that came out with the infant. Eddie cut the cord, watching carefully as the nurses quickly washed his newborn son off.

He’s simultaneously whispering sweet nothings against your cheek, how proud he is of you, describing your son’s dark hair, his little mouth opening as the nurse's hand gently washes it. “Did so good, baby, so good, I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“Is he okay?” You whisper, eyes half open as you stare up at your husband’s brown ones. “J-Josh, is he okay?”

Eddie knows exactly what you’re asking, making sure his limbs are working, that he looks healthy, that the nurses don’t look too concerned about their results. He can’t help but answer, “He’s perfect.”

Your favorite nurse, the one who got assigned after Eddie demanded it, brings him over swaddled in a hospital blanket and tucks him into your arms. The hormones and adrenaline overwhelm you as you stare at his face, selfishly grateful he looks just like his father, happily staring at the little button nose.

“I love you,” when you stare up at your husband, you’re expecting his eyes to also be planted on the newest member of the little family. Instead they’re shiny and planted on you, his expression drenched in pure love.

“I love you,” you sigh, leaning in for a sweet kiss. “He’s so perfect.”

“I fucking love you so much.”

The love fest eventually dies down, all the medical aides surrounding you finishing up and leaving the room as they steal one last glance at the happy little family.

You’re lost in your own little world when Dylan runs in, seeing the little addition sat on your chest. Eddie looks up to face Dylan dressed in a hospital gown and a hairnet. His face is lit up with the same joy as the room is filled with. “You wanna meet your grandson?”

Eddie nods, quickly stopped by his wife still lying on the bed sitting in the afterglow. “Go,” you insist, petting at the soft hair on your son. “Say hi for me.”

He smiles, placing a gentle kiss on your knotted hair, followed by his newborn. “Be right back.”

On the way over to the emergency surgery room Dylan explains that the umbilical cord ended up twisted around his son’s neck and they took Maya straight into an emergency C-Section. He sat with his girlfriend as they emptied the contents of her abdomen to allow the newest Munson to come into the world.

Eddie asked several times to make sure it was okay if her father in law, her boyfriend’s father, to go into a room where she is this vulnerable. Dylan insisted that she said it was fine and since Eddie was here for the birth of his son it would be cool for him to meet his grandson, too, within the same half hour.

Miraculously, after getting in his own scrubs, Eddie wanders in with Dylan as Maya is finished with her stitches. She’s still loopy from the general anesthesia, holding her newborn on her partially covered chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Eddie asked, knowing how against visitors you were.

“Just come say hi to your grandson, Eddie,” Maya chuckles, passing up the newborn. “Meet Jace Edward Munson.”

“Edward?” Eddie laughs, barely holding the mist that comes to his eyes. “What?”

Dylan scrunches his nose, tilting his head to face the newborn now in his father’s arms. “You stepped up when she left. You were everything to me. You may have stolen a girlfriend, but that is small beans in the grand scheme of things, you know?”

“Jace and Josh,” Eddie muses, laughter bubbling up his throat. “God, they even sound like twins.”

Kayla smooths over the dress she wears, nervously looking around the classroom. Are there enough learning centers set up? Will the children like the home center she put together? Will there be any difficult teachers during her first year?

For the first time, she’s on her own, placed in the very class she had spent so long working toward, kindergarten.

Her little classmates with their parents, usually mothers, wander in with wide eyes, nervously holding onto their sleeves and looking around anxiously. She talks to each little one at a time, welcoming them and offering them many activities to distract them from wanting to stay with their parents.

One little boy doesn’t need much, or any, peeling off his father as he runs in, his shaggy brown hair rustling in as he bolts straight to the building blocks. His dad walks in right after, carrying his bag dressed in a leather jacket and acid wash jeans.

“Hi,” he sighs, sounding tired. “That’s Dylan.”

“M or H?” Kayla asks.

“M.”

“Dylan, can you grab your bag from your dad and put it in the cubby?” Dylan runs to grab his bag from his dad, shouting in slight frustration as he’s pulled in for a hug. “Yours will have an M next to your name!”

He listens, but doesn’t look back as he runs back to the blocks.

“I’m Eddie,” the father says, holding his hand out. “His mom, Brooke, will pick him up after school, uh, she’s a bit of a hardass, so just beware.”

Oh, goody. She gives him a strained smile, insisting she’ll be able to handle it.

Eddie and Dylan end up being one of his favorite pairings for the year. But when Brooke walked in, she knew it became a big deal for something as small as Dylan putting his book in the wrong pocket in his bag.

Kayla got along great with Eddie, as they turned out to be the same age. They saw one another around the school as Dylan got older, even became someone Dylan could rely on for a maternal figure when his parents ended up divorcing in fifth grade.

About twenty one years after initially teaching Dylan, she’s a veteran teacher in her own right, having a monopoly over classroom #3 as she continues to be the answer for dozens of individuals when asked their favorite teacher.

She sits in her lumbar chair that her coworkers raised the money for the previous Christmas as she finally is able to look over her newest class list. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until she came across 9th and 8th from the last name, two boys with J initials and the last name Munson. She’d been wondering if she would ever have the pleasure of teaching Dylan��s boys, or if he decided to skip town like most of his classmates.

Their birthday right next to their attendance names indicated they had the same birthdate, so she was safe to assume she would have another set of twins. If they were anything like Dylan, they would be a fun sort of challenge for her, that she was sure of.

On the first day the following fall, she keeps an eye out for her former student, keeping in mind it could very well be the mother that decides to drop them off.

As she’s helping a particularly shy child settle into her classroom, she notices a parent helping their kid out of the wind breaker they’re wearing. As soon as the little girl is settled she goes to them welcoming them. She immediately recognizes the parent. “Dylan!”

“Oh, Miss. Thompson! I didn’t realize you were still teaching!” He sheepishly admits, looking at the plaque now containing her married name.

“I am just married, now,” she answers, answering him the same way she would a student out of habit. “Now, who do we have here?”

“I’m Jace,” the little boy answers shyly, brown hair of this father but stark green eyes.

“Well, Jace, would you mind finding your name at one of the cubbies for me? I think you’re put right next to someone named Josh,” she tells him, watching for any recognition of the other name she thought was his twin.

“Oh, sweet!” Jace exclaims, running with his Pokémon bag.

She gets up from her squatting position, her knees far too achy for doing it continually like she still is. “So, there’s another Munson on the class list, would you know anything about that?”

Dylan chuckles, sighing. “Well, about that–” Dylan is interrupted by a little boy with dark hair hugging him, exclaiming his name. “Hey, Josh, we were just talking about you!”

Josh laughs, tugging on Dylan’s arm. “Is Jace here?”

“Yeah, he’s playing with the dinosaurs, if I know him.”

“Cool!” Josh runs straight off, meeting his supposed relative at the play carpet.

Kayla turns around in confusion, questioning what just happened.

As if answering her, in comes another familiar face, holding a bag that looks comically small compared to his tall stature. “Ah, Kayla. I was wondering if you were still here.”

“Eddie!” She greets him, giving a very frank hug. “I have to admit, I am very confused.”

“That’s okay, you wouldn’t be the first,” Eddie comments, crossing his arms. “Me and my wife had Josh at the same time Dylan had Jace. They’re assholes, they like to gang up on adults, but don’t let them intimidate you, they can’t with their adults anymore, so they try it on teachers.”

“Takes a lot more than that to intimidate me,” Kayla answers, looking back at the boys who gained ownership over the carpet with dinosaurs and cars. “I appreciate the warning, though.” She looks back to her old friend, seeing the smile lines on his face, still carrying his son’s things. “I’m happy you found someone, though.”

“Thanks. His mom will pick him up after school,” Eddie tells her, going to the cubby with his kid’s name on it. “She’s not as bad as Brooke, so there’s no worries, there.”

“Alright, can’t wait to meet her.”

Eddie and Dylan share a look, one that Kayla misses as she starts to welcome in a few new classmates.

The bell rings for lunch for the rest of the elementary school and end of day for the kindergarteners. Mrs. Franklin, or Miss. Thompson, as Dylan knows her, helps all her students with their backpacks and jackets. It’s one thing to manage five-year-olds, it’s another to get them to stop wrestling and help them simultaneously.

The Munson boys are certainly no help, Josh trying to stick his finger up Jace’s nose, pinning him down on the dirty floor as Jace wiggles underneath him. Kayla wished Josh would stop telling Jace he’s his uncle and he has to listen to him, that way she wouldn’t have to hold back her laughter so hard.

“Okay, Mr. and Mr. Munson, break it up, your parents will be here any minute now. Get up.” They both switch their glances up to her, eyebrows raised over wide eyes. “Get up.”

They roll their eyes, Josh reluctantly getting off Jace slowly and helping him up. Slowly but surely, parents start to pick their kids up, both Munsons waiting for their parents anxiously. You wonder in with your youngest, a little three year old by the name of Stevie. She holds onto your pointer and middle finger anxiously, eyes darting around at the unfamiliar noises and faces.

Your son is seemingly nowhere to be seen, usually seen with his counterpart but you can’t see him around the crowd of parents kneeling with their kids and asking how their day was. The teacher, someone both Dylan and Eddie insisted is the best in the school, approaches you kindly to ask which kid is yours.

Before you can even answer Josh runs into you, happily glancing up at you as he wraps his arms around your legs. “Hi, baby,” you greet him, kneeling down as you pet his sweet face.

You miss the peculiar look Mrs. Franklin, or Kayla as Eddie referred to her as, gives you. Surprised to say the least that the Mrs. Munson she has yet to meet is so young. Her brows furrow even further when Jace notices you, yelling, “Grandma!” as he also runs for a hug.

“Were you boys nice to Mrs. Franklin today?”

“Of course!” Josh smiles, and you squint through his bullshit.

“Well we’re gonna make sure to be nicer or we’re gonna have to lose our tablet privileges, won’t we?”

You get back up, smiling at their grumbly faces. They never listen to new adults, it was a field day at their first day of preschool. One glance to their teacher’s observant face told you all you needed to know. “Eddie didn’t warn you, he?”

“No, but they did have a peculiar look on their faces when I mentioned meeting you. Should’ve known better, with those two,” you tilt your head, curious at what she meant. “Seriously, your husband needs to tell you more. I taught Dylan when he was in kindergarten.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, somewhat surprised. “That’s really cool! Were you surprised to see Eddie wi–”

“With another kid,” she interrupts, laughing, “yes, I was. I’m happy to see that he found someone else, Brooke, was, well, she was not a nice person.”

Your eyebrows raise at the mention of your husband’s ex-wife, this being the first person she meets outside Eddie’s inner circle to having even mentioned Brooke. “So, I’ve heard.”

“Hey mom,” you hear behind you, you shove the owner before you even see him, rolling your eyes.

It’s very recently become a silly habit of Dylan’s to call you mom, due to your son asking why his brother calls his mom by her real name and not mom like he does. After the best attempt at explaining Dylan has a different mom who is no longer around, Josh is still confused and insists that you still act like his mom, so therefore, are Dylan’s mom.

It was awkward at first, but now it’s a little inside joke. If you were told when you first got together with Eddie that Dylan would be referring to you as a maternal figure, you probably would’ve hit them on the head for fucking with you.

“Hey, kiddo,” you tease back, mocking his twisted face expression. “They were apparently giving her a hard time today.”

“Of course they were. You know we can ask one of you to switch classes, right?” Dylan asks, an aura of authority in his voice.

Their eyes go wide, even though it was a threat in their preschool room, they have yet to consider this. You didn’t want to resort to threats but with their shenanigans, it's literally one of the only things that will work.

“C’mon, your dad is making your favorite for dinner,” your shoulder cascades around Josh’s shoulder, telling him to say bye to his nephew and that he’ll see him tomorrow.

Two years later, Stevie shows up with her dark curls down to her shoulders after her father, giggling as she says hi to the teacher.

That was the last time Kayla taught one of Eddie Munson’s kids. Or, so she assumed.

The double doors to the high school flew open, big black boots echoing as the large leather jacket trails behind a slim torso. He takes the immediate left into the office, his presence large, with grey streaks leaking into his roots and an angry look on his face.

The kind administration lady looks up to his expectant face, the curiosity quickly melting into confounded terror. “Can I help you?”

“Apparently Stevie Munson is in the office right now?” Better be a damn good reason for peeling me away from one of the only moments I have left alone with my wife, he thinks, eyes observing around the office.

“Yes, she is, uh, are you her–”

“Her father, are you going to let me in the office or do I have to let myself in?”

The surprise that fills her features would be charming if Eddie wasn’t so fucking annoyed. He’s used to the assumption by now, but for the moment he just doesn’t have any patience in his body.

“You can go right ahead, Mr. Munson,” she peeps out, gesturing to the door marked Principal. Eddie’s not sure why he even asked, or how he had the foresight to ask, first. He’s surprised, honestly.

The door opens to face the school principal, his daughter and a boy sitting two seats away from her nursing his face with an ice pack. “Mr. Munson, welcome in! Have a seat.”

“No thanks,” Eddie answers, polite, but curt. He looks at his daughter, “What happened?”

She opens her mouth to answer but is interrupted by the bald principal, “I didn’t ask you, I asked her. What happened?” He directs his attention back to his daughter.

She smiles at him, the same sweet smile his wife bares. “This guy touched my ass under my skirt, so I punched him in the face.”

Eddie’s brows raised, teeth gritted as he sends a daggers at the boy he is now aware assaulted his daughter. “I’m sorry?” He asks, now directed to the principal.

“So she says,” the principal says, eyes widening at how Eddie manages to look murderous. “Granted, even if Mr. Jackson did do that, it’s not a good enough reason to assault him. She will be suspended for two days.”

Eddie laughs, loudly, shaking his head at the gall, the fucking nerve. This principal is extremely lucky it was him who answered his phone and not you. “Really? My daughter got sexually assaulted and your reaction to her defending herself is suspending her? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Mr. Munson, if you could please calm down and have a seat,” he starts, gesturing to the chair, yet again.

“Oh, I am calm. You don’t want to see me angry,” Eddie answers, the Hulk flashing through his mind. “You deciding to punish her tells me exactly why this little shit felt confident enough to lay his hands on her, to begin with. I just think about all the other girls he’s done this to, too afraid to speak up, I wonder how many times he’s done this with no consequence to feel confident enough to touch under a skirt. What the fuck is this place? No-tolerance bullying policy? Utter bullshit.”

“Mr. Munson, calm down before I call security–”

“Don’t make me laugh. Seriously. Don’t.” Eddie sighs, pinching his nose. “If you do suspend her, I will press charges against him and I will sue this fucking school. If you punish him, like you’re supposed to, take him off his team for the season, put him in detention for a month, I don’t care, something with fucking consequences, I won’t. You decide.”

He looks down at the little shit, whimpering as he still nurses the barely there bruise. “You better hope I don’t hear you doing this shit to any other girl in this school, or you won’t get into any college in the country.” He pauses, opening the office door to an audience. Maybe he was louder than he thought he was. “C’mon Stevie, let’s go get some fucking ice cream.”

When you heard about how your husband stuck up for your daughter like that, you got on your knees for him in the bathroom. That might’ve cheered him up a bit.

The sounds are familiar yet foreign when you wake up to the blindingly white room, the chatter in the hallway and some heart monitor beeping. Two people immediately come into focus, Josh, sitting at the end of the bed on his phone, Stevie sitting concerned by your head.

You moan, sitting up in your bed annoyed at the stark contrast of the back of your eyelids. “What the hell?”

“Mom!” Josh shouts, getting up and standing on the other side of his sister.

“Mom,” Stevie runs out of the room, calling for a doctor.

You look to your son, brows furrowed. “What happened?”

“You passed out at the grocery store. You fainted and you didn’t wake up until just now.”

Your brows raise, because you haven’t felt off even the slightest. The dizziness hit you out of nowhere, going from fine to woozy in two seconds and falling flat on your face. “How long ago did that happen?”

“Like twenty minutes? The ambulance got there pretty quickly,” he admits, turning his head to his sister and the nurse coming in the door.

“Mrs. Munson! So glad to see you awake. I’ll let the doctor know and he should be able to give your results,” she says, sweet smile as she turns away.

Stevie’s bottom lip is stuck out, quivering as she grabs the hand containing an IV line. You thought that was a bit much. “Stevie, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure, because I heard the nurses saying it’s not normal to stay out that long after fainting. What if you’re sick?”

“I’m okay,” you insist, watching both their worried faces. “Fuck, you called your dad, didn’t you?”

“Uh, yes! He would’ve killed us if we didn’t!” Josh laughs, leaning back in his chair.

As if summoned, your husband pokes his head in, his eyes wide as he walks in the room, hands out to you as his long legs take him to the head of the bed. “Fucking Christ.”

“Hi, baby,” you greet him, leaning into the forehead kiss that he gives you. “I’m okay.”

“Fainting in the fucking grocery store, fucking hell. My god, baby.” He looks over to his kids, “What tests have they done, so far?”

“Just a blood test, I think,” Stevie shrugs.

“They might do an MRI but that could take weeks of waiting.” Josh offers no comfort to his dad despite his best efforts.

“I’m okay, really.” You insist to all their worried faces. “You didn’t call anyone else, did you?”

“Uh, we called Dylan,” Josh says, wincing at your annoyed face. “And Jace.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, intertwining your hand with Eddie’s rough one.

The doctor doesn’t come as quickly as the nurse promised, but he comes within two hours. “Oh, hello, you have quite the visitors, don’t you?”

You shrug, rubbing his thumb as it anxiously rubs your hand.

“We have the results, inconclusively.” The air is tense, every one of the family seemingly expecting terrible news. “Congrats! You’re pregnant.”

You knew nothing was wrong, but this was not what you were expecting. You’re forty-two, Eddie is nearly seventy. You weren’t even sure he could still get you pregnant. You meet your husband’s eyes, sharing a bewildered smile.

In the meantime, shouts of disgust from your teenage kids fill the room, standing up with tense shoulders.

“Gross!”

“Ew! I didn’t even know you guys still did it! Oh my god! Ew!!!!”

You bite your lip, shrugging. “Are you wanting to be a father to a newborn at almost 70?”

Eddie smirks, leaning in for a kiss that makes your kids jeer again. “Bring it on, baby.”

Steve calls an hour later, concerned for the text his name sake sent him. When Eddie informs him, you’re pregnant, twenty years of karma hits tenfold.

When Steve and Jocelyn said they were pregnant with Eliza fifteen years after having Dustin, Eddie spent the pregnancy making fun of their oopsie baby. Asking if they knew what protection was, joking how they still had sex, telling them to keep it in their pants, the works.

Now, Steve was more than happy to return the favor. “A baby at 70, you old bastard? What was that you told me twenty years ago? God, I’m surprised you two still do it, considering how low Eddie’s ball sack must be hanging.”

“You wish you could see my ball sack, you asshole,” Eddie teases, laughing with you as you sigh. “You’re just jealous I can still keep it up, you geriatric bastard.”

Five years later, when Eddie and Kayla are older, he wanders into classroom #3 for the last time, holding his third son who ends up being notoriously clingy towards his older father.

It’s ironic to the both of them how Eddie has a son for both Kayla’s first and last year of teaching, keeping tabs on one another for the duration of forty years.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, letting Tommy down and dismissing her questioning look. Don’t wanna talk about it.

By the time Tommy is 18, Eddie is too old to give a shit, wondering constantly what Wayne’s opinion will be when he ends up knocking on heaven’s door.

When you got into your sixties, Eddie was full of gratitude, thankful that you will no longer be confused for one of his kids despite his actual kids all calling you mom. He makes fun of your vision, stealing his reading glasses constantly despite his constant insisting that you get your own pair.

Despite the smile lines by his lips and his eyes, the sunspots decorating his skin, you still stare up at him like you did when he was forty-seven.

Your lives were forever intertwined from the moment you saw him, from the moment he saw you. He lies down in your bed next to you for the millionth time, his hand caressing your side, pressing kisses on whiskered lips, it doesn’t occur to you to ever be anything less than woefully in love with him.

———————-

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eddiernunson · 5 months ago

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ping ponging back and forth between seeing immense beauty everywhere and feeling deeply like i am in hell

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eddiernunson · 5 months ago

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it’s legitimately so fucked up and heartbreaking that in this society the ability to just like…relax and have fun with friends and loved ones is like…considered something you have to earn or make time at your own expense for. it should be regarded as one of the inalienable cornerstones of being human. i’m not joking, like the fact that having fun and chilling with your buds is considered an expendable frivolity instead of a vital core need is heartbreaking. not that capitalist society has ANY vital core needs that it’s not prepared to gate behind a monetary cost though lmao.

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eddiernunson · 5 months ago

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Happy Birthday, Joseph Quinn! January 26th, 1994

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eddiernunson · 5 months ago

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Happy 31st Birthday handsome ❤️

#sorry not sorry for all the essays I’ve written about your cock #joe quinn

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eddiernunson · 5 months ago

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writing is so fun

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eddiernunson · 5 months ago

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I 100% got that when I was reading it

I feel like people put me in this wholesome box when they meet me and it makes it hard to feel like I’m being taken seriously when I’m angry or frustrated…

I don’t know you managed to capture my own thoughts about it in ways i haven’t been able to quite articulate

MS. DECEMBER | Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Librarian!Reader

When you get a once in a lifetime opportunity to pose for a racy photo shoot your best friend struggles to come to terms with your increased exposure.

WC: ~6.9k

Warnings: light angst, insecurity/poor self-image, mention of pornography, mutual pining, jealousy, possessive behavior, alcohol, sexism, swearing, smut, perv!Eddie, voyeurism, m!masturbation, brief f!masturbation, oral f!receiving, piv sex (wrap it up irl), dirty talk, Eddie has a corruption kink, friends to lovers, everyone is 21+ 18+ ONLY MDNI

Special thanks to @madelynraemunson for sending me her smutty brainwaves. Also thanks to @rebelfell and @mugloversonly for suggesting the magazine title 🖤

“So you think it’s a bad idea?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest and leaned back against the firm leather of the booth, narrowing your eyes to study your best friend’s clouded expression.

The bar where you’d arranged to meet up for drinks was surprisingly busy for a Tuesday evening, and the background hum of the happy-hour crowd filled the silence while you waited for his response.

Eddie looked down at his beer bottle and started to pick at the label with his thumb, its silver foil edges the sudden sole focus of his attention.

“Nah, I think you should go for it.”

The muted overhead lighting brought out the warm amber flecks in his otherwise stormy eyes as he lifted them to meet yours for just a moment before returning his gaze to the table.

Unconvinced, you tilted your head. “Really? You think I can pull it off?”

He nodded and you could see the hint of a dimpled grin soften his features.

“Totally. You’re gonna look amazing.”

As soon as the words escaped his lips, his eyes shot up to meet yours with visible panic; frizzy curls brushing the tops of his shoulders as he gave a frustrated shake of his head.

“Shit. No, I just— you’ll do a good job, that’s all.”

A rosy hue kissed the tops of his cheeks as he continued to sputter out half-formed excuses, trying to navigate the minefield he’d wandered into courtesy of his thoughtless tongue.

You bit down on your straw to fight back the giggles that threatened to bubble up while you watched him squirm, but you only let him suffer for a few moments before you interrupted his nervous stammering.

“It’s okay, Eddie. I know what you meant.”

You couldn’t blame your friend for being a bit out of sorts. After all, you had just informed him that you’d been selected to pose in Stripped, a popular men’s magazine that was doing a special feature on “Sexy Librarians of the World” — something that he had rightfully pointed out was completely out of character for you.

Knowing how keyed up Eddie could get about things, you’d waited until after the waitress dropped off your drinks to mention the shoot, in hopes that the beverages might help take the edge off delivering the news.

At first Eddie had treated your announcement with his usual brand of skepticism, waiting for you to burst out laughing and confess that it was all just a silly joke. Once he realized you were serious, he’d taken a large swig of his beer and nearly choked as it burned a bitter path down the back of his throat.

A few weeks earlier, you had confided in him that you felt like you were too boring and that you wanted to try and break out of your shell.

“It’s like everyone just thinks of me as this perfect, uptight goody-two-shoes,” you had complained. “But deep down I’m so much more than that.”

Eddie didn’t find you boring in the slightest but he knew a thing or two about being pigeonholed, and had encouraged you to branch out and try new things.

“Maybe you just need to try something new. Push your limits a bit, ya know?”

At the time Eddie had been thinking along the lines of experimenting with new foods or switching up your hairstyle, but after hearing your news he realized he may have underestimated just how daring those new things might be.

“I mean, it does sound interesting.” You shrugged. “They want to feature professional women with different looks and body types, and they said it’ll be tasteful. I don’t know…I feel like I might regret not doing it when I’m older. You only live once, right?”

Eddie nodded, his guts twisting with each second he was forced to come to terms with the fact that you were going to pose in a magazine that he’d been reading for years for the articles. A publication where everyone, including him, would be able to see you wearing next to nothing — not that he planned to look at your pictures, of course. That would be weird.

“As long as it’s something you want to do and you don’t think it’s sexist or whatever,” he mumbled, and you arched an eyebrow as you took another sip of your fruity drink.

“Don’t you read Stripped? I mean, you can’t think it’s all that bad?” You bit back a grin as he looked up at you helplessly.

“Yeah, but that’s different. Those girls…they aren’t you.”

You rolled your eyes and resisted the urge to call your best friend a hypocrite, even though he was being a giant one in your opinion. Still, his reaction to the news had been a lot milder than you’d expected so you decided to let it go.

Besides, you needed a favor.

“They booked the shoot for this Thursday afternoon. If you’re free, I was hoping you might come with me?”

“With you?” Eddie repeated, his brain suddenly running on autopilot. It was one thing for you to do a racy photo shoot but quite another for him to be there and witness it in the flesh.

For a moment he let himself imagine what it would be like watching from the sidelines of the set as you contorted your scantily clad body into the kind of provocative poses he’d seen in his issues of Stripped.

“Not to, like, watch or anything,” you rushed to add with a quick shake of your head. “I’m just a little nervous and it would be nice to have a friend there for moral support. Will you come, please?”

As you smiled and fluttered your lashes Eddie could feel himself starting to cave, well aware that it was pointless to try and resist you when you wanted something.

He tried to think up a good excuse as to why he couldn’t go with you that afternoon, but your pleading eyes melted the words on his tongue before he could speak them out loud.

Defeated, he took another large mouthful of beer, swallowing down the bitter hops along with his misgivings, then reluctantly agreed to accompany you to the shoot.

When it came down to it, Eddie Munson was a simple man.

He loved heavy metal, beer and D&D. He loved performing with his band and spending time with his friends. He also loved you — probably the worst kept secret in history as far as he was concerned, but a fact of which you seemed blissfully unaware.

Eddie and his bandmates had moved to the city a few years earlier in pursuit of a music career and things had been going pretty well for the men of Corroded Coffin. They’d booked enough regular gigs at the rock clubs downtown to allow Eddie to keep a part time day job, leaving him free to spend the rest of his time on his music. Well, his music and you.

You’d met Eddie when the library where you worked advertised for volunteers to help with its new youth D&D sessions. After seeing the flyers on his walks around the neighborhood, he’d stopped in to get more information.

“This is a really great idea,” he’d said when you had described how things would work. “I wish they’d had something like this back when I was a kid.”

It turned out that Eddie was great with the children and a very enthusiastic volunteer — so enthusiastic that he started to drop by the library several times a week to help out with some of the other programs you had on the go.

After spending so much time together you soon became good friends and eventually he suggested that you come to one of Corroded Coffin’s shows.

“But it’s okay if you don’t want to, I get that it’s probably not your thing.”

“What? Not all of us librarians are sheltered squares.” You’d laughed, but when you looked down at your frumpy outfit and sensible shoes you couldn’t exactly blame him for making that assumption.

You were reserved in how you dressed and you supposed you could come off a bit quiet and shy, but deep down you wished you could be more free-spirited like your new friend. You loved Eddie’s rock n’ roll style and envied how he didn’t seem to care what anyone thought — something you admittedly worried about way too much.

You’d always been the good girl — the responsible one who followed all the rules. But ever since meeting Eddie you’d felt like there might be more to life.

When a small crush on the metalhead had started to take root, you’d squashed it before it had a chance to bloom. You knew a guy like Eddie would be looking for someone much more fun and flashy than you, and there was no point in getting your hopes up just for them to be dashed.

You’d gone to a few Corroded Coffin shows by then and seen the kinds of girls who danced up front, the pretty ones Eddie smiled down at from the stage while he shredded his guitar.

Afterwards you’d watch them fall all over him, giggling as they wrapped their arms around his waist, and you’d make up an excuse to leave early to avoid the unwanted sight.

Compared to those girls you were so boring, it was no wonder Eddie only saw you as a friend — a thought that as much as you tried to ignore it, continued to eat away at you.

When the letter from Stripped had arrived at the library, your co-worker Muriel had scoffed as soon as she opened it.

“Can you believe this? They want people to pose in their skivvies for everyone to see. Disgusting.”

She’d held up the offending piece of paper, then gasped as you snatched it out of her hands and eagerly poured over the typewritten words on the page. A photo shoot featuring regular women who wanted a chance to show they were desirable? It was just the type of thing you’d been looking for in your effort to try something new and daring.

It was a sign.

When you got home from work that evening, you’d dialed the number provided in the letter and had been given direction on how to complete the Stripped audition process.

Weeks later when you got the call back that you’d been selected for the feature, you had debated for a few moments before giving them your answer. As you twisted the phone cord in your hand, you reminded yourself that the photo shoot was just the thing you needed to increase your confidence and get you out of your rut.

After you told them you would do it, you hung up the phone with a satisfied smile as nervous excitement fluttered in your chest.

You were going to prove everyone wrong.

You could be wild. You could be daring. You could be anything in the whole world that you wanted — and maybe someday you would even be the type of person that Eddie Munson could love.

What you didn’t know was that Eddie had been taken with you ever since the very first moment he saw you, that he adored you just the way you were. Your quirky personality and the soft way you looked at him. Your sweet voice and beautiful smile. Your body — the thoughts of which occupied a sizeable portion of his brain.

He thought every single part of you was perfection.

The two of you spent so much time together that after a while the guys in his band started to give him a hard time, calling you his wife to try and get under his skin. Even though he always told them to fuck off in no uncertain terms, he secretly liked it and hoped that someday it might be true.

Eddie had never done the relationship thing before and with you he wanted to do things right, but the thought of putting himself out there was a slightly terrifying prospect.

Until he worked up the courage to tell you, he resolved to be your loyal and supportive best friend. But as he listened to you talk about the photo shoot, he supposed he could do a bit better on the whole supportive part.

He could tell that you were nervous and he wanted to reassure you, it was just going to take some time for him to adjust to the idea.

On the afternoon of the photo shoot you walked with Eddie into the unassuming gray office building that housed Stripped corporate headquarters on the North end of the city.

The lobby was modern and plainly decorated, with white polished floors and a few sparse fake plants — not at all what you had expected for that type of wild publication.

Throughout the lobby there were several large framed Stripped covers hanging on display, and as you gazed up at the glamorous models you could hardly believe that soon you’d be amongst their ranks.

You had been told by the woman on the phone to head to the fourth floor when you arrived, so you took a deep breath and stepped into the waiting elevator. When it started its ascent you reached for the comfort of Eddie’s hand and he gave yours a gentle squeeze, smoothing his thumb over your clenched knuckles.

“You okay?” He leaned in close to whisper next to your ear. “You don’t have to go through with it if you’ve changed your mind.”

You took another deep breath and set your shoulders, giving him your most determined smile.

“It’s now or never, right?”

The elevator doors opened with a soft ping and you stepped out, still holding on tight to Eddie’s hand. There was a long reception desk along the far wall and a pleasant-looking woman smiled up at you from behind her computer as you approached.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m here for the librarian photo shoot?” you answered, cursing the nervous inflection of your voice.

The woman nodded and took your name then handed you some forms you’d need to sign.

“Take those with you and go down that hallway until you get to room 4B. That’s where they’ll be doing your wardrobe and makeup.” She pointed towards the corridor to her right.

As Eddie moved to walk with you, the lady gently cleared her throat and gestured to the white leather seats in the waiting area behind you.

“It’s a closed set today. Your boyfriend will have to wait here in the lobby.”

You giggled and quickly let go of Eddie’s hand, patting his leather-clad arm in amusement.

“Oh, no. He’s just my friend.”

Eddie shifted uncomfortably as the woman shot him a sly smile before returning her attention to her work, chuckling quietly to herself.

“I’ll see you when you’re finished,” Eddie called out to your back as you turned to head down the long hallway.

Left alone, he felt around in his jacket to find his pack of smokes. He suddenly needed a cigarette. Badly.

The shoot went remarkably well, and on the drive home Eddie was quiet as you filled him in on all of the details, your voice spilling over with poorly contained excitement.

“They made me feel so comfortable and they even let me keep the outfit as a souvenir. Not that there was very much to it.” You giggled, looking over at your friend who continued to stare straight ahead at the road.

Eddie’s silence was unusual and you wondered if maybe he was annoyed that he’d had to wait around so long for you to finish. Between hair, makeup and wardrobe the shoot had ended up taking hours.

“They said the pictures should be ready for the December issue. Can you believe it?” You leaned your head back against the leather headrest and hummed with contentment as the van rumbled down the dark city streets.

Just in time for the holidays, Eddie thought sarcastically as he pulled into your parking lot. At least that would give him a few more months to get used to the idea.

A few months later

The bell over the door of the corner store chimed as Eddie stepped inside out of the cold. Behind him, tiny flakes danced in the frosty evening air and a light dusting of snow peppered his hair and jacket.

“How’s it going Phil?” Eddie greeted the ancient and seemingly ever-present clerk. Phil gave him a quick nod of familiarity before turning to grab a pack of Eddie’s brand of cigarettes from the wall behind the counter — one of the perks of being a regular customer.

Eddie was in good spirits after having spent the evening with some friends who were visiting the city for the holidays. So good, that he even found himself humming along to the staticky Christmas music that drifted from the radio Phil had stashed behind the counter.

On his way to grab some snacks, Eddie paused at the wire newsrack stuffed full with the usual array of trashy tabloids, rock features and poorly concealed nudie mags hidden in the back.

Just as he was about to continue on his way, something tucked behind a copy of Guitar World caught his eye and practically knocked the air out of his lungs. You.

“Holy shit.” He did a quick double take, not quite believing his eyes. You had told him that your issue was coming out soon but you had neglected to tell him that you were going to be on the cover.

Eddie stared like he was caught in a trance, hypnotized by a pair of familiar eyes that gazed back at him from the page with what could only be mistaken for desire — your parted, pouty lips painted a deep blood red that made his mouth suddenly feel much too dry.

He picked up the issue only to find that the rest of the cover was concealed by a plastic liner to protect the pages from prying, non-paying eyes.

A few seconds later the bell over the door chimed and a pair of young men walked in, their brash voices a jarring contrast to the previous quiet of the shop. As they loudly made their way past Eddie, he could smell that they had definitely just partaken in some liquid holiday cheer.

“Oh shit, is that the new Stripped? Man, I’d like to stuff her stocking,” one of the men quipped over Eddie’s shoulder before continuing to follow his friend to the back of the store.

The sour scent of stale whiskey filled Eddie’s nostrils as he tightened his grip on the magazine — the thought of that guy buying your issue filling him with a sudden, scorching rage.

There were four other copies of Stripped left in the rack and before he knew what he was doing, he’d grabbed every last one and marched over to plunk them down onto the counter alongside his smokes.

Phil surveyed the stack of magazines with a slight raise of his eyebrows, but silently rang them up and handed Eddie his change.

Eddie grabbed the paper bag containing his precious cargo and quickly made his way back out onto the street, his cheeks burning against the cold night air.

As he walked the familiar path towards home, he pondered what exactly he planned to do with his impulse purchase. Should he just throw them away? He definitely couldn’t look at them, that was for sure.

He didn’t want to admit how many times you crossed his mind on sleepless nights, a common occurrence when he was restless and alone. And he definitely didn’t want to think about how often he desperately stroked his cock to the image of you naked and writhing in pleasure beneath his touch.

Those thoughts had only ever been a fantasy, just secret pictures in his mind. Now that the opportunity to really see you was at his fingertips, it didn’t feel quite right.

He walked into his building in a daze, barely aware of his surroundings until the ding of the elevator arriving at his floor snapped him out of his trance.

Once inside his apartment, he headed straight into the kitchen and set the bag down on the counter alongside his keys. He shrugged off his jacket onto a nearby stool and then stood staring at the bag, unsure of what to do.

There was a new song that he’d been working on where he hadn’t quite nailed the solo and there were still some details left to perfect in his latest D&D campaign. Laundry, television, organizing his record collection, heck, even conditioning his hair — there were so many, many things that he could do to occupy his time.

But twenty minutes later Eddie paced his tiny kitchen like an animal trapped in a cage, the ever-looming magazines burning a hole through his resolve.

The arguments proposed by the devil on his shoulder were actually quite convincing — you were a grown woman who had willingly posed for the photos, after all. You had wanted people to see them. You had been excited about the shoot. Taking a look was the least he could do to pay his respects for all of your hard work.

He swiped one of his large hands down over his face in frustration, telling himself it was wrong. That it would be a betrayal of your trust.

With his mouth set in a determined line, he took the magazines out of the bag and carried them over to the trashcan under the sink and tossed them inside.

With that settled, he finally let out the breath that he’d been holding for far too long and decided to pour himself a drink. Something stiff.

Fifteen minutes later Eddie still paced his apartment with a cigarette dangling from his lips, the futile drink having done nothing to curb the torment of his brain.

At the end of his rope, he decided the best course of action would be to give in and take a quick look, reasoning it was the only way to get it out of his system and off his mind. Nobody would ever have to know.

He pulled the magazines out of the trash and carried them into the living room, setting them down on the coffee table as he perched on the edge of the couch.

Just one look.

He grabbed a magazine and ripped open its plastic liner then ran his hand over the glossy cover, his fingers lingering on your ruby red lips that were parted as if in a breathless moan.

The first few pages were ads for expensive colognes and fancy, high-end watches; he flipped past them quickly, his fleeting fingers on a mission to find the one thing he truly desired.

Before long he reached a page that announced “Sexy Librarians of the World” in an obnoxiously large and swirling font. The photo underneath was of a woman wearing nothing but a smile, the majority of her naked body strategically covered by a very large open book. Cute, but not what he was looking for.

He impatiently turned the page and even though he was expecting to see you, his heart still leapt in his chest when he was confronted with your image.

You were leaning against a bookcase full of dusty leather-bound volumes, wearing only an open white blouse and a few long strings of pearls. The strands were gathered in one of your hands and you were pulling them down between your breasts, the placement of your arms revealing only a tease of your pert nipples. Your other hand was hovering just over the juncture of your thighs in a play on modesty that almost made it look as though you were pleasuring yourself.

You were gazing at the camera with the hint of a smirk playing across your lips, the twinkle in your eyes captured in mischievous perfection.

His naughty little librarian.

Eddie let out a sigh as he ran a palm over the growing bulge in his jeans, his stiffening cock pressing uncomfortably tight against the unyielding material.

He’d always thought that you were beautiful, but seeing you like that was beyond even his wildest dreams. Eyes locked on your image, he lowered his zipper so that he could grip the outline of his heavy cock through his boxers, teasing himself over the thin cotton.

He turned the page and a growl rumbled low in his chest when his eyes fell your next photo — even more daring than the one before.

It was taken from behind and you were down on all fours on a large wooden desk, wearing only a g-string, high heels and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. His eyes traced the thin strip of material as it disappeared between the smooth cheeks of your ass, then landed on the tantalizing sight of the underside of your breasts — revealed as you turned to give the camera a sultry gaze over your shoulder.

“Mmm such a bad fuckin’ girl.”

Unable to hold back any longer, he hastily pushed his boxers down so that the elastic waistband rested just below his balls. He swiped his thumb over the tip of his cock, hissing at the sensation of his own hand, using it to spread the beads of pearly precum down the shaft.

As he started to stroke himself, the sight of your photo combined with the smooth glide of his palm brought him to the brink much faster than he expected, and he gave himself a gentle squeeze in an effort to slow things down.

He was so preoccupied with edging himself that he didn’t notice the knock that sounded on his door, but as the rapping persisted it finally brought him crashing back down to Earth. He nearly tripped when he tried to stand, pulling up his jeans and muttering under his breath about who the fuck would be knocking on his door at that late hour.

“Just a second,” he called out impatiently, figuring it was probably his neighbor Greg who was always showing up unannounced to try and score cheap weed.

When Eddie threw open the door, he was pleasantly surprised to see that instead of his middle-aged hippie neighbor, it was you.

You gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I know it’s a bit late to stop by but I was in the neighborhood and wondered if you had any weed. Today was brutal and I just need to turn my brain off, you know?”

Then you noticed that his cheeks were pink and that he was breathing a bit heavy.

“Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Was just doing some sit ups.” He awkwardly patted his stomach. “I’ve got some weed in my room, wait here and I’ll roll you a joint.”

You couldn’t recall Eddie ever mentioning exercise before but you let his comment slide, your mind preoccupied with the exciting news you couldn’t wait to share — your issue of Stripped had just been released and your picture had made it onto the front cover. Even though Eddie had been acting a little funny about the whole thing, you knew he’d be happy for you.

Your feet were aching after a long day and you were dying to sit down, so you took off your jacket and decided to go make yourself comfortable on the couch while you waited.

When you walked into the living room, your stomach did a funny little flip when you saw your own image staring back up at you from the coffee table.

What was Eddie doing with your issue of Stripped? And why did he have so many copies?

When Eddie walked back into the kitchen a few minutes later and saw that you were gone, his blood instantly turned to ice water in his veins.

Oh shit. Shit.

He held his breath as he walked into the living room, his body freezing in mid-stride when he saw you looking up at him with a strange expression on your face.

“Eddie, why are there five issues of Stripped on your coffee table?”

Well, there it was. You were going to think he was a disgusting pervert and never speak to him again.

“I didn’t…look at it,” he stammered, guilt written all over the anguished lines of his face.

“Uh huh,” you said slowly, looking down at the plastic wrapper that had fallen to the floor in shreds like it’d been ripped apart by some kind of wild animal.

He sighed and ran a hand through his messy curls.

“I stopped at the store on my way home and these assholes came in and—“

You stared at him blankly. “And what?”

“They were looking at it—at you, and I just…” he trailed off as you gave him a teasing smile.

“You didn’t want them to look at my pictures, Eddie?”

His eyes darkened in an instant and you didn’t miss the tension of his jaw, flexing like the clenched fists held firmly at his side.

“No.”

"Why?" You stood up and walked over to him, holding his gaze as if in challenge, until you were face to face — his lips so close that you could almost feel the brush of their soft outline against your own.

Your breath caught when he reached out a hand to tenderly cup your cheek, then smoothed his thumb along the plump fullness of your lower lip.

“Because I didn’t want anyone else looking at what’s mine.”

“Yours?” Your voice came out a breathless whisper, shaken by the possessiveness of his words. You didn’t have a chance to say anything else before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. Despite your surprise, you responded eagerly, letting yourself melt into his embrace and slotting your mouth against his as he pulled you into his arms.

With your mouths and limbs entwined, he walked you backwards to the couch, then sat down and pulled you on top of him so that you were straddling his waist. He pushed your skirt up in soft folds and ran his hands over the supple curve of your ass, his mouth greedily attacking your lips as he squeezed the mounds of smooth flesh in each large palm.

You ran your nails down the front of his t-shirt and then helped him pull it off over his head. His curls fell in a frizzy halo around his flushed face as he leaned back and gave you a lazy smile, the chain of his guitar pick necklace gleaming against his smooth, tattooed chest. Then with a firm grip on your hips, he guided you to grind in his lap, his breath coming out ragged as the firm bulge in his pants pressed against the barely covered heat of your cunt.

“Did you like my pictures, Eddie?” you teased as you started to unbutton your blouse, the stiff creases in his denim stealing your breath with each slow drag against your clit.

“I…fuck. Yeah, I liked them,” he mumbled in awe as he watched you push the silk down off your shoulders to reveal your lacy bra — one you were very grateful you had decided to wear that morning on a whim.

He ran his hands over the sheer lace as though mesmerized by the sight, letting his thumbs caress your hardening nipples through the delicate material.

“That’s an awfully sexy bra to be wearing to work,” he growled, reaching behind you to undo the clasp. “Maybe you’re not such an innocent little librarian after all.”

When you let the cups fall down your chest, he sucked in a harsh breath at the sight of your perfect breasts — even better in real life than they had looked in the magazine.

“Christ, you’re so fucking hot.”

You rolled your hips, your nipples brushing against the tip of his nose with each delicious grind and he leaned forward to swirl his tongue around one of the firm buds before biting down on it ever so gently, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to the growing ache between your thighs. You moaned in response and tangled your fingers in his hair.

“Since you interrupted me earlier I think it’s only fair you show me what I missed,” he rasped in a muffled voice against your breast. “I want you to pose for me. Show me what’s mine.”

“Now?” you asked with a breathy laugh and he nodded his head.

“I want something those other guys will never get to see.”

Your lips curled into a coy smile, enticed by his naughty idea. “Okay, as long as they're for your eyes only.”

You stood up to unzip your skirt and then shimmied it down over your hips. He let out a low rumble of approval when you stepped out in just your panties, already wet enough to cling to the puffy lips of your cunt.

He got up and walked over to the bookshelf to grab the instant camera that he’d recently purchased to take photos at his shows.

“How do you want me?” you asked with a nervous laugh as you climbed onto the couch, settling onto your back against the throw pillows and using your arms to push your breasts together like your first photo in the magazine.

“Like this?”

“Yeah angel, just like that.” Eddie raised the camera and you heard a high-pitched whine as it flashed. He let the undeveloped picture fall out onto the floor, too preoccupied with the sight in front of him to bother to pick it up.

His dark eyes never left you as used his free hand to unfasten his belt, then pushed down his jeans and impatiently kicked them off his feet. Your eyes widened when you saw the impressive outline that strained the front of his boxers and seeing your reaction, he gave you a wolfish smile.

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

You let your hand trace a slow path to the lace edge of your panties then you pulled them to the side, splaying your manicured fingers over your pussy just like the poses you’d seen in other dirty magazines.

“Is this what you want, Eddie?”

He stared for a moment with his mouth hanging open, unable to form a coherent word before finally holding up the camera and capturing the lurid shot. You heard the whine of the flash as you closed your eyes and slowly circled a finger over your clit.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” he mumbled in a throaty whisper. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

You lowered your voice to a saucy purr. “Oh, I can see it, Eddie. It looks so big and hard. I bet you could really fill me up.”

He groaned at your words as you sat up to switch positions.

“Maybe you’ll like this one better?”

You flipped over onto your hands and knees, wiggling your ass in the air and turning your head over your shoulder to shoot him your most sultry gaze.

“Well, shit.” He climbed onto the couch and kneeled behind you, running a hand over your smooth backside. “Yeah, I like this one a lot.”

He grasped the tiny strip of your thong and pulled it to the side then ran two of his thick fingers along the seam of your cunt, letting out a low hum of approval.

“So nice and wet for me. Bet you taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

With a firm hand pressed between your shoulder blades, he pushed you into a deeper bend until your face was pressed against the soft cushions of the couch.

“C’mon let me see that pretty pussy.”

The camera clicked a few more times and then you heard him set it down on the coffee table. His hands free, he used them to spread your cheeks and then spit onto your folds before burying his face in their sticky sweetness. Your cries were muffled in the cushions of the couch while his long tongue fucked your dripping entrance and his nose nudged gently against your tight little hole.

You arched your back to give him better access to flick his tongue in rapid flutters over your clit, the camera suddenly forgotten in his desperate need to taste you.

The sounds he was making as he devoured you were loud and filthy, and with each soft lap of his tongue your climax quickly started to build.

“I need you inside me,” you whined as you felt yourself start to clench around nothing. He chuckled at your neediness before pushing his boxers down to free his already leaking cock. He grasped himself and started to glide his shaft through the pulsing heat of your cunt, each nudge of his head against your clit making you cry out as you dug your nails into the couch.

“Please, Eddie,” you begged, pushing back against him with a desperate whimper.

“My good girl needs it bad,” he teased as you pushed yourself back against him. He finally took mercy on you, letting his thick length sink into you slowly.

“Wanted this for so fuckin’ long,” he sighed as pulled almost all the way out, tortuously slow, before harshly thrusting back inside. Soon he was fucking you at a desperate pace, snapping his hips against you as each deep stroke hit that spot inside that made you see stars.

“Such a good girl…squeezin’ me so fuckin' tight,” he rasped as his fingers dug into the soft round of your hips.

You started to fuck yourself back against him while he used the string of your thong as leverage to bounce you on his cock, and he could feel your arousal making a slick mess of his heavy balls.

“Actin’ like an angel when all you really wanted was a big cock to fill you up, huh?”

He reached around to where your bodies were joined to rub his fingertips over your clit and before long you were crying out his name as you felt your climax taking hold. With your warm walls pulsing around him, Eddie knew he couldn’t hold himself back much longer — between you and the magazine he’d been edged going on hours.

“Shit, that’s it. Cum for me.”

You cried out as you came and he pulled out at the very last second, grunting as he stroked himself above you to decorate your ass and lower back with pearly ropes of his warm release.

“Shit. You look so fuckin’ good covered in my cum. Don’t move.”

He reached for the camera on the coffee table and snapped a photo of his masterpiece, then grabbed his t-shirt off the floor and used it to gently wipe you clean. When he was finished, you turned over onto your back and he collapsed on top of you in a sweaty mess of wild hair and tangled limbs.

He grabbed the last photo and shook it. "Oh, I can't wait till this baby develops."

You laughed and after sharing a tender kiss, you looked deep into his eyes, trying to hold onto the moment for as long as you could.

“You said you’d wanted this for a while. Did you really mean it?” you asked in a small voice.

Eddie propped himself up on his elbows and pushed a sweaty strand of curls behind his ear, giving you an almost bashful grin.

“Yeah, of course I meant it. I’m crazy about you. Been that way for a long time now.”

As much as you wanted to believe him, you had a hard time accepting that it was true.

“But I’m so boring. I see those girls at your shows…I’m not like them.”

He looked down at you with dawning realization —all your talk of being too dull suddenly making a lot more sense.

“Sweetheart, you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met.” He pressed a soft kiss to the crook of your neck. “And I haven’t wanted anyone but you for a very long time.”

"Really?" You smiled up at him as he nodded, giving you a goofy smile.

“And just so you know, I kinda like the whole strait-laced good girl thing you’ve got going on. Makes things even hotter, if I’m being honest.”

You raised your eyebrows, feigning surpise. “Mr. Munson, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were a little bit kinky.”

He nodded and bit his lip, his eyes alight with fiery mischief.

“Mmhmm…guilty as charged.”

And it was true, Eddie couldn’t wait to show you all the naughty things you’d been missing out on — things he knew a reserved girl like you would never, ever do. Now that you were his, he planned to take his time to unravel all of your secret desires, but he wasn’t quite finished with the current situation at hand.

“Speaking of which, Miss Librarian…” He smiled devilishly. “I think you still owe me a few more photos for my personal collection. Maybe we can make an exchange for some overdue library books?”

You furrowed your brow in faux-seriousness. “That could probably be arranged. Maybe a photo for every book that you return?”

“Oh well, in that case I have a confession to make. I have so, so many overdue books. Some of ‘em were even due weeks ago,” he raised his eyebrows up and down in jest before sprinkling soft kisses along the column of your throat.

“Hmm…that’s very serious,” you said as sternly as you could despite the butterflies that fluttered low in your belly. “I think maybe we should move this to the bedroom. Something tells me it could take a while.”

Without another word, Eddie grabbed the camera and raced you to his room.

Your issue of Stripped went on to become one of the publication’s all-time best sellers and the “Sexy Librarians of the World” pictorial was lauded as an instant classic. It turned out that the public had been eager for something different from the same old, tired fare and critics praised the magazine for its bold new direction.

A year later when Stripped executives invited you to pose for a special encore edition, you agreed on one very important condition — next time your boyfriend Eddie got to watch.

Thank you for reading! 🧡

dividers by @/firefly-graphics

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@theold-ultraviolence @jasminelafleur @madelynraemunson @iletmytittiestitty @str4ngergirlw0rld

@mopeymopeymouse @mrsjellymunson @hippiegoth97

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eddiernunson · 5 months ago

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GIRL

Yea I so would. So real for this. 10/10

Take it Easy | Bodyguard!Eddie x Rich!Fem!Reader

Summary: You try to help Eddie relax before a big event

WC: -1.6k

Warnings: established relationship, hand job, mirror play, oral m!receiving, possessive!reader, swearing, everyone is 21+ 18+ MINORS DNI

A/N: This is part of my bodyguard!Eddie AU but can be read as a standalone. Based on this ask from the lovely @mrsjellymunson

Eddie hated the burgundy-fucking-Prada suit you’d bought for him to wear to your mother’s movie premier, but he still put it on…begrudgingly. He didn’t feel comfortable in the designer clothing and could just imagine how the guys were going to give him shit later on when they saw the photos.

Burgundy.

When you walked up behind him to help fix his tie in the full-length mirror, you noticed the sour grimace that he wasn’t trying all that hard to disguise.

“You hate it, don’t you?”

You weren’t only referring to the suit. You knew Eddie was dreading all of the pomp and circumstance that went along with attending the premier of your mother and Steve’s latest film, Mannequin 5: Oops She Did it Again.

After spending most of your early life going to swanky openings for your mother’s projects you were used to the spectacle of that type of event. Eddie, not so much.

“It’s just…it’s choking me.” He grappled with the tie you’d chosen, his ringed fingers tugging at the expensive silk as if prying at a noose that was stealing his breath.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics but helped him loosen the knot. Then, to his surprise, you slipped the silky Dior tie out from under his collar and threw it to the floor.

“Why don’t we try this?” You furrowed your brow in concentration as you opened the top two buttons of his shirt, revealing a hint of his pale chest along with the glittery gold chain of his guitar pick necklace.

“There!” You smiled, pleased with the result. “Much better.”

Eddie nodded as he studied his reflection, the moody expression on his face still making it seem as though the weight of the world rested on his broad shoulders.

“I don’t know why you dislike this suit so much. You look good — really good, and this shade is very popular right now.” You ran your hand along the top of his left shoulder to smooth the material. The custom couture fit him like a glove and the rare time he chose to dress in something tailored, Eddie cut a very nice figure. Very nice.

“You know, everyone’s going to be jealous that I get to take you home.” You gave him a little wink over his shoulder.

Eddie didn’t say anything in response but his face cracked its morose veneer just long enough for you to catch a hint of his cocky, dimpled grin in the mirror.

Oh, he knows he looks good, you thought as you held back a giggle.

“Why are you getting dressed so early anyway? We have lots of time. I haven’t even started to get ready.” You were lounging around the house in your nightie as you still had a couple of hours before the hired car was scheduled to come pick you up.

Eddie shrugged, not wanting to admit the truth out loud. He was nervous — not so much for the crowds or the cameras, but for what the night represented.

It was the first time he would be attending an event as your date and not your guard, something that was a big deal in his mind and he didn’t want to disappoint you. He knew you were used to all of the showbiz glitz and glamour, but that world was so completely foreign to him that he wasn’t sure he’d do it right.

He didn’t want to bring you down.

Even though he was now seen as a sort-of hero in Hawkins, he knew people would still be picking apart every little thing he did. Hero or not, he was convinced that all anyone pictured when they saw you together was the local satanist dating the movie star’s beautiful daughter.

“You’re not on duty tonight.” You laughed. “Just try to relax and have a little fun.”

“I’ll relax when we’re back home and in bed,” he grumbled and you felt a flutter low in your belly at the thought of the two of you under the sheets with his strong arms wrapped around you.

Your sex life with Eddie had always been incredible, but the last few weeks you’d found yourself nearly insatiable. Even just the hint of his cologne wafting across the room was enough to drive you into a frenzy of lust, almost as if just being near him caused your hormones to spiral out of control.

You let your hands trail down to the waist of his dress pants and you started to fiddle with the button.

He looked down at your hands and then back up at your face in the reflection, biting his lip to fight the goofy grin that threatened to break free. “What’re you doing?”

“You seem a little tense and I just want to help you relax, that’s all.”

“Relax, huh?” He chuckled as he helped you unbuttoned the pants, letting them fall down around his ankles.

“These too.” You tugged at the band of his boxers until they fell to join his pants, leaving him in just a dress shirt that was doing a poor job of concealing his very visible erection.

“Normally I’d never turn down whatever this is, but we should be getting ready,” he protested weakly as you grasped the hem of his shirt and bunched it up around his bellybutton.

You watched his cock grow even harder in the reflection, bobbing proudly in front of him before you wrapped your free hand around it and gave him a few slow strokes. You watched his face in the mirror, hungry to see the look in his eyes while you touched him.

Despite being a bit taken aback by your sudden neediness, Eddie was fully on board with your shift in demeanor. It wasn’t like you to take charge in the bedroom, but in recent weeks he’d noticed you’d become a bit more aggressive and much more eager to take what you wanted.

“Is it working?” you purred, skillfully twisting your wrist and stroking his thick length just the way you knew he liked it.

“Is…is what working?” he gasped as he pulled up his shirt and held it near his chest, gently canting his hips to meet the thrusts of your hand. You moved your other hand to his hip, holding him against you as you worked him over.

“This, silly.” You laughed. “Is it helping you relax?”

“Shit. Uh…fuck. Yeah.” His breath caught when you let go of him long enough to spit on your palm, spreading your slick hand down his shaft before starting to pump him faster.

“You’re so hot, Eddie. Everyone there is going to want you, but you’re mine,” you whispered next to his ear and he let out a quiet whimper when you squeezed him gently before resuming the rhythmic thrusts of his cock in your fist.

He closed his eyes and threw his head back in ecstasy as you felt his cock start to pulse in your hand, and a sense of power washed over you at the sight of him coming undone before your eyes.

“Shit, I’m…I’m so fucking close, baby,” he rasped, pulling his shirt up higher and out of the line of fire.

Letting out a thoughtful hum, you suddenly released him and his eyes shot up to meet yours in the mirror. Desperate. Needy.

“Hmm…yes, we don’t want any messes, do we?” You walked in front of him and slowly sank to your knees, using your hand to stroke his cock a few more times before enveloping him in your warm, wet mouth.

“Ahh fuck,” he sighed, resting his hand on the top of your head, the other still busy holding up his shirt. “You’re so right. Always right.”

Eddie was pretty sure he’d never been so turned on in his life. Watching you jerk him off and then suck his cock in the mirror? It was like having his own private sex tape, but better. He looked down at your silk nightie clinging to the curve of your ass as you arched your back to take him deep in your throat like such a good fucking girl…

“Ohh fuuuck…that’s it,” he growled just before he came, letting the salty tang of his cum coat your eager tongue.

Once you finished cleaning him up, you stood with a satisfied smile and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Now you can finish getting ready. I’m going to go have a shower.”

With that you left the bedroom in a swirl of candy-scented bliss and he stood in a daze with his pants still around his ankles, trying to find his way back from the thudding haze of his orgasm.

You had to be some kind of enchantress.

And like all great enchantresses, your spell had worked because he felt much more at ease as he re-tucked his shirt and checked his reflection in the mirror.

His cheeks were flushed and his forehead was glistening with sweat, but otherwise he looked good. Damn good. He grabbed the few stray curls that had escaped his hair tie and swept them behind his ear.

There.

He smiled at his reflection, barely remembering why he’d been so uptight about the premier in the first place. You were going to be there on his arm all night after all, and you loved him. Besides, you were the one everyone would be looking at anyway.

You. He thought of you in the shower and the image of your warm, sudsy breasts was suddenly too much to withstand. He started to unbutton his shirt and kicked his feet free of his pants as he rushed out the bedroom door.

You still had a couple hours left to kill, after all.

Thank you for reading! 💕

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Tagging the lovely bodyguard peeps 🏷️: @eddiesguitarskills @catherinnn @nope-thanks @emxxblog @biancadjarin

@fromasgardandback @adequate-superstar @mrsjellymunson @seexyyprincess @micheledawn1975

@she-collects-smut @munsonzgf @tlclick73 @universal-slut @skzcanmakemecream

@fishwithtitz @madelynraemunson @comeonatmebruh @demashifts @corkadymu

@person-005 @mynameismothra @skrzydlak @nevermoreraven1 @hugdealer

@makaylalovessmut @metalhead-succubus @arIxt @joannamuns9n @nojamsonmytoast @graciehams

@motherfckerrr @no-bueno-writer @kellsck @eddiernunson @isabel-is-lost @morganlolitta

@elvendria @isabel-ffl-xoxo @ohmeg @m0llygunn @3rriberri @nabiiturner @paleidiot

@hippiegoth97 @princesssunderworld

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eddiernunson · 5 months ago

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Oh this one hit hard because I have been called a librarian and someone who looks wholesome a lot. When I get angry I feel like I’m not taken seriously because I have a round face.

This was extra personal but god I LOVED IT

Juicy in the best way I just devoured it thank you for helping me feel seen 🥲