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#eddie munson fanficton
abibliophobiaa · 1 year
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Hii hope you're having a lovely day
Can I get a forced proximity,fake dating smut with Eddie Munson and the phrase "come on I won't bite, unless you're into that"
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this was such a fun prompt! below is 4k of eddie and r just being adorable as hell. warnings: fluff; barely edited because i’m at work and die like bob in the docs; fem!reader; smut, so 18+ minors dni.
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It was supposed to be simple: show up to your ex's wedding with a date, so that way your friends from college wouldn’t look at you with pitying gazes that clearly said, “Look at the poor, sad, tragically lonely girl.”
For the record, you were none of those things. And maybe it was a little dramatic to think that way. Also yeah, maybe you received those questions from time to time—asked innocently enough, usually—when you planned on settling down, but what if you never wanted to?
But pretending, at the time, to be in a relationship seemed easier than avoiding all of those questioning stares and probing comments.
It had been Max’s idea, actually; you’d been helping tutor her for a college math test when she noticed the invitation on the fridge and you’d laughed about how it was your ex and you still frequented the same friend group, which meant being invited to his wedding was an absolute. You murmured to her in confidence that you really weren’t excited about going; mentioned you were the only one in your college friend group who hadn’t been married off yet or popped out a kid (you shuddered to think of either of the two).
“Why not bring a fake boyfriend or something?” She asked. It seemed so…silly at first. You’d arched a brow in her direction and chuckled to yourself, the tip of your pencil tapping against her loose leaf notebook absentmindedly. At your confusion, she proceeded, “You know? Ask Steve or Argyle…Eddie.”
“Don’t say Eddie like that,” you grumbled, chewing at the eraser tip.
The redhead flicked one of her braids over her shoulder, shrugging. “Don’t say Eddie like what?”
“How you did just now! You didn’t just say Eddie,” you explained, dropping your pencil down onto the paper. “You said Eddie. Like you’re insinuating something.”
“Yeah, like the big freaking crush you’ve had on him since you two were in high school together—”
“Your answer to number five is wrong.”
Max snorted. And that was that.
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Luckily, Eddie’s amicable as he always is. When you suggest coming as your date, he’s quick to ask for times to pick you up and requesting the attire for the event. It’s an evening wedding, and he shows up in a dark suit that matches the color of his hair. The same suit that now rests over the back of his chair, the sleeves of his shirt beneath rolled up to the elbow, revealing endless whirls of tattoos he’s collected over the years since he graduated high school.
He’s—well, Eddie on a normal day is breathtaking. All dark hair that falls in waves to his shoulders, broad smiles, dark eyes that can see through your soul. Charming as hell, and just as charismatic. He’s the kind of person that brightens every room he walks into and graces with his presence.
Eddie at a wedding?
You’re practically heaving into your champagne glass with how disturbingly—and unfairly—handsome he looks, but he can’t know that, so you play it off that you’ve danced one too many songs and need a moment to collect yourself.
“Think the plan is working?” He muses, leaning over to sip at your glass. “Think we’ve fooled enough people so grandma over there can stop clutching her pearls asking if you’ve accepted your spinsterhood?”
Honestly, the whole fake dating thing isn’t as bad as you initially thought. Eddie’s been ever the gentleman, holding open doors, holding your hand, holding the side of your hip. It’s great for the optical illusion you’re trying to portray, but it’s terrible for the ever painful kick-thump throb of your heart in your chest.
“Why? You wanna get out of here?” You likely can. You’ve stayed for the ceremony, most of dinner. You’ve even danced with Eddie a bit on the dance floor, introduced him to a few of your college friends, let him press a kiss to your cheek during the ‘couple’s dance’ after he’d suggested you try on the lips and you nearly broke an ankle, tripping up in your movements from the mere suggestion of doing something so insane. “We could always head back to the hotel room?”
Oh—and therein lay the other problem aside from your cardiovascular symptoms as a direct result of Eddie’s proximity: the hotel reservation somehow got all mixed up and you only afforded yourselves one bed.
One.
Singular.
Eddie had reassured the front desk employee that it was no issue, but you’d slapped your card onto the countertop and asked—admittedly pleaded—if they could check again for another room. It was with pitying gazes that they advised, because of the wedding, all the other available rooms were full. Which left you and Eddie with a king size bed for the night.
“It’s fine,” Eddie had teased, tossing pillows down the center of the bed after both tossed all of your things onto the floor. “Here’s our bundling board. You better not try to jump my bones in my sleep now.”
The thought itself has your thighs sliding together, mind swimming as your friend’s ring clad fingers trail against your forearm, drawing you back to reality. You turn with a ‘huh,’ your eyes meeting his as he says, “I’m fine with that if y—”
You’re interrupted by the sound of Clarissa, your ex’s new bride, calling your name from another table away. You’ve been friends with her for years, studied in the same program for your undergrad degree, and remained as such even after she came to you one day in the library and asked if it would be okay to date Jared. And it was; you’d been broken up for some months, anyway, after all. All adults who could handle weird circumstances.
Just like right now, as Jared joins his new bride’s side and extends a hand to greet Eddie. “Is this the guy that swept our friend here off her feet? Nice to meet you…”
“Eddie,” Eddie says, reaching over to grasp Jared’s hand and shake it. He’s just as charming when Clarissa leans down and urges you both forward in tight hugs, giggling brightly over how nice the two of you look and blushing when Eddie speaks again saying, “You look beautiful. Congrats, you two.”
“Congrats you two,” Clarissa practically trills, clapping excitedly. She mouths over Eddie’s shoulder, “He’s gorgeous.”
You can only pathetically shrug in agreement before Jared’s asking how the two of you met and Eddie tugs you so close to him you’re practically sitting on his lap. Your hand manages to grip his thigh to steady yourself when your chair wobbles, and his palm swallows yours upon doing so. He lifts it up to his mouth to brush a gentle kiss against the back of it. Your skin bursts to life with a thousand bubbles dancing along your skin, though you chalk it up to the champagne buzzing in your system.
Heat coils again as he turns to look at you, brown eyes fathomless as he says, “Back in high school. She walked into first period math class and she waved at me and I knew it was all over after that. But we only recently realized we wanted to be more than friends; figured it was about time to take a chance. Best choice I’ve made in a long time, really. Now we’re inseparable. Unbreakable. Insatiable—”
You elbow him slightly, cutting his words off. “Insatiable, Ed?”
Clarissa and Jared are none the wiser. The both of them only lean into one another, Clarissa glowing with her bridal beauty and Jared looking like he’s fallen in love with her all over again as Eddie regales them with your fake relationship origin story.
“Can you act like you actually like me?” He grumbles near your temple, that palm curling around your hip again to draw you even closer. Heat coils in your belly once more as that mouth drops lower, hot breath fanning along the shell of your ear, his voice a husk of, “Relax. I won’t bite…unless you’re into that.”
So, maybe you can’t swallow the breathy sigh that punches its way up your throat. And maybe your thighs clench beneath the table. But they’re all mere side effects to the man hypnotizing everyone around him with his charm, casualties of the battle waging war behind your ribcage. Even so, the damage is done; the carnage remaining in the wake of your inner turmoil is evident in the slow curl of his lips, the proud smirk lining those presently devilish features.
He’s thoroughly enjoying himself—enjoying the effects his presence has on you, even under the guise of pretending you’re something you’re not. So if your eyes roll in your skull when he leans down and presses a barely-there kiss beneath your ear, it’s only because he’s really wonderful at the elaborate facade you’ve both concocted.
It’s only because, over the years of being DM, he’s perfected the art of performance.
It’s that and nothing more.
Call the casual touches and flirting throughout the night side effects of a few glasses of champagne and loosened inhibitions. Call the glances across the dance floor nothing more than intrigue and longing for a ‘what if?’ Call the brush of his fingers against your skin, the press of lips, the hand on your hip nothing more than part of an act. Because that’s all it is.
Or so you think and have conditioned yourself to think.
But that tension lingers long after Clarissa and Jared wish you well. It lingers in the breaths filling the elevator on your way back to the room, it seeps into the pauses in your conversation. It grows and curls like a bowstring in your belly, drawn tight when Eddie slides the key into your hotel room door and pushes it open.
“If I didn’t know any better, Munson, I would have thought you were flirting with me earlier,” you hum, a casual laugh breaking into the otherwise quiet of your newfound privacy with the man, toeing off your heels near the door. “And the little speech about how we started ‘dating’ was really convincing. Either that or you should reconsider a career in acting.”
“What if I was, though?” His voice is soft. Softer than it’s been all night, a tremulous breath that makes your stomach clench. “Flirting with you, I mean.”
Before you, you can see two options laid out on a platter: you push into unknown territory, a world of possibility should you choose to open your heart to him; or, you brush his affection aside and preserve what you already have, not wishing to disrupt the balance of your life as you know it.
Eddie is friends with your friends.
You’re friends with his friends.
When lines become blurry, relationships are put at risk. Sides might need to be taken. There are other people involved outside of the two of you. But a louder thought rings true. An understanding that it’s Eddie. Eddie, who has only ever put your own needs above his. Always first. Wanted what was best for you at all times. Would it, then, be such a terrible thing to be selfish just this once?
“If you were…” you begin, stepping across the room to meet him where he stands. Your fingers trail up to his tie, the dark red material like blood sifting through your fingers, “did you mean it? The story too?”
“Since first period math class senior year—well, your senior year. My first senior year.” He chuckles uneasily, palm moving to slide over the span of his shoulder, easing at a knot. Watches you slide your fingers up along the fabric, moving up to help loosen the knot around his neck. You fumble with it for a moment, his breath spilling across your forehead, your bottom lip between your teeth when he rasps out, “Can I kiss you?”
And you’re nodding your head rapidly, gasping as his hand slides up to rest against the small of your back, guiding your frame closer to him. You practically ooze into his chest, bodies warm and humming with anticipation as he walks you backward over toward the bed and groans into your bottom lip presently pinched between his teeth as you tug at his tie and drag him into the cradle of your thighs down to where you lay in a sprawl of limbs against the mattress.
“Oh…” He pauses in his ministrations, breaking apart with a gasp despite your whines of protest to run a palm along the mattress. You flop down onto your back as the man presses the same palm against the topper, watching it shift and move beneath his weight. “Oh this is nice. Much better than my shitty one back home.”
“Eddie…” His head jolts back your way, as if he remembers you’re lying beneath him, waiting for him to help you out of your dress, and drops a kiss down against the curve of your neck. You hum to yourself and grasp his chin, dragging his mouth near to yours. He brushes your lips once, twice, and you tell him, panting, “I really like you, Eddie.”
He sighs as your hands finally help free the tie from around his neck and you toss the fabric into the far corner of the room, fingers dropping down to start working on the line of buttons down his chest inch by inch until you’re met with dark ink and a trail of hair against the bump of his stomach that disappears into his waistband and has you leaning forward to press a kiss to his exposed sternum. Beneath you can feel the rapid thrum of his heart, can taste the salt on his skin, flesh still warm from all your dancing in the wedding hall.
He’s climbing over to the top of the bed, bringing you with him, and rearranging the two of you so you can lay side by side. One of his palms starts a gentle slide up your back to grasp at the zipper pulled all the way to your neckline. His eyes implore yours briefly, a gentle exchange with no words, and your head dips. The sound of the metal dragging down your spine reaches your ears, fabric soon pooling around your ankle before he’s tossing it over onto the far corner of his room with the rest of both your clothes.
You take a moment to look at one another. Eyes roving across skin, fingers following in their wake. He trails his fingers along your shoulder, down the path of your sternum, swirls a circle around the soft skin of your abdomen until your sides shake with laughter. You watch those exhausted eyes of his trail along the curve of your hip, the bend of your knee, the crux between your thighs. Nearly gasp into his collar bone when he hikes a thigh over his hip and draws you in for another kiss, and you can feel the hot press of him briefly—albeit too briefly—against your center.
Those kisses, burning with a fresh fervor, draw breathless sighs from your lips. His words against your skin, telling you how beautiful you are, how he’s wanted this moment, how he wants to watch you fall apart against his fingers when he asks if he can touch you have you mewling with want, shuddering at the first brush of his fingers through your slick, warm and welcome between your thighs.
But it’s in that languid exploration that the two of you start to slow down, champagne bubbles that still linger in both your bellies making your eyes more and more tired with each passing moment, fingers becoming gentler, lingering longer. He sighs when you lean over to brush a kiss against his throat and suck, but it settles in the air and you can’t help the airy giggle that spills from your lips when one of his hands waves lackadaisical in the air as you ask, “Falling asleep on me, Munson?”
“No—no,” he groans. He presses a gentle kiss to your throat, and feels your pulse skitter beneath your skin. “Jus’ g’me a second. Wanna make you feel good.”
It’s a shame, a sin really, how even in his tired, partially blissed out state, Eddie Munson still has the power to make your insides liquify. Especially when those eyes start to flutter as he tries to focus his attention on you, lashes lingering longer and longer against the tops of his cheekbones in his efforts to stay awake.
With one last press of your mouth against his, you slide off the bed and help yank down the comforter enough so he can crawl inside, sleepy sighs spilling from his tattooed chest. Satisfied, you clamber in beside him and smile to yourself as that same chest aligns against your spine, arm looping low around your waist, and you both drift into a slumber.
It’s early when you wake again. Sunlight starts to filter in through the windows, the clock to your left reading seven in the morning. Luckily, it’s a Saturday and your check out time isn’t until eleven, which means more than enough room to shower and get ready to head back home to Hawkins. You’re about to clamber out of bed when you feel Eddie’s hand against your stomach shift. Butterflies burst to life at the gentle caress of his skin against yours, fluttering away only seconds later when the man in question grumbles, “Oh shit. Oh shit, sweetheart. I fell asleep.”
“You did,” you giggle, your calf brushing along the hairs lining his own. He groans, face pressing between your shoulder blade, hips flush against your ass and you continue, “It’s okay, though. You were tired.”
“We were…and I was…shit.” He huffs against your skin, hooking his chin over your shoulder to then brush a kiss against the plushness of your cheek. Then once more in that space beneath your ear that has you shuddering against him.
He starts a slow path along the side of your neck, laving kiss after kiss into your flesh, trailing down your shoulder. He starts to mark his way back upward, igniting every inch of you with a fresh fire when you gasp out, “We, ahh—mmm—still have a few hours before we need to leave.”
For emphasis, to really drive home your wishes in the moment, you slide your thigh up and over his, your hips moving backward to press needily against where you know he’s hard already. Those talented hands of his that strum along his guitar at the countless Corroded Coffin shows you’ve been to begin to work a slow path up your thigh, calluses tantalizing against skin. You push back harder against him, feeling his returning roll of hips against your ass, seeking out friction, craving release. But you have all morning.
You have time for the gentle slide of his fingers down the front waistband of your panties, the whine you release as his middle finger parts your center from entrance to clit, drawing out three slow circles that have you nearly begging him to fuck you right then and there. Still, he’s patient. Takes his time stroking against your center, listening as you coach him through what feels good, telling him to speed up, slow down. His other hand, not occupied with drawing out your pleasure, grips yours and slides it against the pillow nearest your head, a chuckle spilling from his lips when your head turns and you whimper into your pillow, asking him for what you need.
“What did you just say, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your bare shoulder, hissing when your hips push back into his hardened cock. “Tell me what you want.”
“Mmm—” He slides a finger inside you, drawing a slow circle, opening you around the digit before adding another. He repeats the question, low and sensuous in your ear, a purr that has your eyes pinching shut. “Want you inside me, Ed. Want you, want—”
Those fingers at your center slip from you, your chest heaving as he reaches over onto the nightstand nearest to his side of the bed and fishes out a blessed foil packet. You hear him hastily tear it open, the bed shifting and dipping in his efforts, before he’s pressing his chest back along your spine and hiking your thigh up and over his. The hand previously holding yours against the pillow above you slides back into your own, and your vision blurs out around the edges as he pushes your panties aside and drags himself through your folds from behind, catching on your clit, before slipping inside.
Your mingling hisses at the initial stretch of him turn into quiet moans as he starts to pick up his pace. He pastes sticky kiss after sticky kiss into your shoulder as that hand of his moves around to slide against your throat, shifting your head up and away from the pillow you’ve buried it within. Your eyes meet his, and between the constant roll of his hips as he moves within you, the fingers splaying across your neck, and the words he babbles into your lips about how tight you are, how good you feel, how you’re doing so good for him, it all quickly become too much.
He catches the flicker across your features, the way your sounds pick up in frequency, the rasp of your breath through your lungs. Against your lips he mutters, “Come on, sweetheart. Touch yourself for me, okay? Wanna watch you.”
And you’re quick to do as your told, palm sliding down your stomach until two fingers meet your clit, rubbing in the way you know you like, matching the frantic pace of Eddie’s hips, pulling back and then slamming into you again and again, driving you closer and closer to utter bliss.
“Oh—fuck—I’m so close, baby.” His fingers around your neck tighten, lips pressing against the corner of yours as you work yourself in tandem with him, the sound of skin slapping together muffling the cries spilling through your parted lips. “Tell me you’re close.”
You come before him, nails pressing down to etch crescents into the hand holding yours above your head, murmuring his name over and over again like a prayer as his lips claim yours once more and swallow the moan he lets out as his body jerks a few times and then stills behind you, shallow breaths puffing hot and frantic into your kiss.
When you both finally catch your breath, and you roll over and turn into him, he pulls you close to his chest and grins into your shoulder, asking, “What are you doing next weekend?”
And it’s that next weekend, at Jonathan and Nancy’s wedding, that you go as a real couple this time.
You don’t even give Max and Lucas shit for giving you a thumbs up when they think Eddie isn’t looking.
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(protect myself from readmore)
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midnightreid · 2 years
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Needy Boy | Eddie Munson
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Summary: Eddie Munson isn't feeling himself, and when you find out your needy boy just wants you, you give him everything he desires.
Warnings: SMUT, 18+ Sub Eddie Munson getting pegged by soft dom reader, with handjobs, slight choking, cock rings, nipple play, face slapping, and anal plugs, weed-smoking, unprotected sex, the reader has no specific genitalia so it can be either p in v or p in the ass!
Word Count: 3.5k
A/N: This is my first pegging fic, and it's pure filth so I hope you enjoy it!
PLEASE REBLOG FOR MORE EDDIE MUNSON FICS!
Eddie wasn’t always the most touchy-feely guy. Sure, he liked to have you close, wanted to be able to hold your hand or rest his knuckle on your thigh, but he was never one for constant displays of affection.
Except sometimes Eddie had bad weeks where not even music or weed could fix his mood. Sometimes he needed a different release that many wouldn't consider “normal” in the eyes of society. And on those weeks, he’d be the neediest man you’d ever meet, wanting to be close as possible to you, with your body in his lap, his hands on your skin and lips against your neck.
Tonight was exactly like that. He’d been quiet for most of the night, and you could tell he was tired from the way he was slumped against the couch when you entered his trailer. When he saw you come through the door, he didn’t hesitate to reach out for you, tattooed arms extended in your direction, brown eyes wide and hair a mess.
“Hey, Eddie. You okay baby?” Once you dropped your bag, you went right to him, letting him pull you down into his lap so he could nuzzle his face into the crook of his neck. He didn’t answer, just tightened his arms around you as you let your hand run through the messy strands of brown hair. You weren’t worried about his behaviour, you knew he could be like this sometimes and he just needed to be with you for a bit, but you also knew he wouldn’t come out of this funk unless he opened up. “Eddie, c’mon darling, look at me.”
Eddie doesn’t want to at first, but when your finger comes underneath his chin to tilt his head up, he catches your gaze with red-rimmed eyes and a small pout on his face. You watched him, noticed that his gaze never stayed long on your face like it normally would, and you could feel his fingers playing with the hem of your jumper, something he did when he was too caught up in his head to focus on anything else.
“You know, Wayne told me you’d finished all your finals, and that a lot of the teachers thought you’d done well this year. They think you’ll graduate with the rest of us this summer.” You thought that would catch his attention, but Eddie just shrugged, letting his head drop again, lips going straight to the skin of your neck to kiss it gently. “Well then, baby, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need.” He huffs, but nods slowly, teeth scratching slightly against your pulse point, making your heart jump a beat.
“I just need…I’m so wound up. I can’t sleep and weed isn’t helping and I just want you here with me.” Eddie’s hands are on your ass then, squeezing and trying to pull you closer even though there was no space between the two of you. You knew exactly what he needed then, feeling his hot breath against the crook of your neck and with his fingers digging into the material of your jean shorts, you hummed for a moment, letting him fondle you as he wanted. “I really need you…fuck sweet I…” He could barely speak, but all you could do was grin, and finally give him that kiss he’d been yearning for.
It was sweet and slow to start, letting Eddie warm up to it and letting him take his time, but soon he’s pushing against you, hips lifting in earnest and you have to grab onto his shoulders so that you don’t topple off his lap. He catches you with ease, hand up the back of your shirt and caressing the skin of your lower back and fumbling with the waistband of your shorts. But you have to stop him, gently tugging at his hair and calling his name to get his attention. When he finally pulls away and looks at you, his mouth has formed a deep frown, and it takes everything you have to not kiss it off.
“Hey, hang on baby. If I’m going to make you better, we’ve gotta move to the bedroom. As much as I love you, I’m not fucking you on the couch.” Eddie’s mouth drops open then as you expected it to, and for a moment he freezes, then simply utters out a bewildered phrase.
“You’re…you’re going to fuck me?” You laugh at the fact that that’s the only thing he can focus on, but nod and pull him off the couch with you, hands sliding underneath his shirt to brush over his nipples and tattoed skin.
“Of course baby boy, you do remember I hid my strap in your cupboard, right?” He nods, eyes bright and wide with excitement, and he can’t stop pawing at you as you lead him to the bedroom. “Well, seeing as you liked me using it last time, I think maybe, tonight might be another good night for it. On two conditions, you let me focus on you, and only you, and when I ask you to use words, you do.” You’re in the bedroom by then, and you’ve pushed him down onto the double bed that’s pushed against the wall, before turning back to the cupboard and finding your strap and various other sex toys in the plastic container right at the bottom.
You don’t use them often, the both of you enjoy just the pleasure of hands and warmth more than plastic pieces, but when you need a big release, you won’t hesitate to bring out a vibrator. In this case, you’ve grabbed the black metal cock ring, the silver plug and your black dildo with the maroon straps, along with the bottle of lube you keep in there.
Eddie’s watching you in the mirror, bottom lip between his teeth and his legs splayed out in front of him. He can’t take his eyes off you, and when you return to the bed with the toys, he lets out a small whine, already so eager to let you take care of him.
“Okay, pretty boy, tell me what your safewords are.” You kneel before him on the bed and watch him carefully.
“Red to completely stop, yellow to slow down, and green to keep going.” He doesn’t even hesitate to repeat the rules, and you smile at him, proud that he’s not arguing about it for once.
“Good boy, now strip for me, sweetheart, and maybe you’ll get a reward.” His shirt is off in a moment, flung across the room, and he lifts his hips to unbuckle his bet, undo the buttons of his jeans and shuck them off, followed by his socks. He goes for his briefs then, and that’s when you stop him. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Keep them on for now.” Your hands go straight for the skin of his chest, fingertips tracing the ink of his tattoos, relishing in the way he shivers against your touch. His hands stay beside him on the bed, because he knows he doesn’t have permission to touch you yet, and when your mouth suddenly covers one of his nipples, his hands ball into fists.
Eddie lurches up into your touch, and you can already tell he’s extremely needy, and he won’t last long tonight without some intervention. But that’s fine with you, the longer they wait, the bigger the release, and when your other hand tweaks his left nipple and pulls a groan out of his mouth as his eyes shut tight, you can’t help but grin.
“Sweetheart, please, stop with the teasing.” His voice is soft, but it’s clear he wants you to get on with it. You let go of his nipple, and look up at him with a cruel smirk, tapping your fingers over his lean torso while you tut.
“You know, I don’t remember you saying you were going to take charge tonight. I mean, by all means, honey, you want this all to stop, then that’s fine, but push me like that again, and you might not get the relief you want.” You’re in his lap then, and chuckle softly when he swallows the lump in his throat. He is enjoying this, you both know it, but Eddie can be impatient. You kiss him again finally, mouth hot and heavy against his, and when your hand moves to the inside of his briefs to grip his already hard cock, he moans against your mouth.
You thumb the tip, watching a bead of precum slowly drip out to soak the material of his briefs, and after a heady whine from Eddie, you finally decide to give him some relief.
“Now, here’s what I’m planning, baby. I’ll let you come with the help of my hand, and then I’m going to get you ready, stretch you out for the strap. And while I do that, and while I fuck you, you’re gonna wear a cock ring so you don’t even have the chance to come again before I’m ready.” Eddie’s breathing heavy, his was thrown back against the wall and hands fisting the sheets, and you know you have him right where you want him. “Then, if you’re the perfect boy like I know you can be, I’ll let you come inside me, just like I know you enjoy. Sound good?” He’s nodding, but when you put your hand on his neck, framing his throat, he looks right at you.
“Good, yes, fuck, please baby.” Smiling, you lean in and kiss him gently, happy that he’s told you exactly how he’s feeling. You pull away to let some spit fall from your mouth and land on the tip of his dick, and with your hand using it as lube to gain some friction, you start to pump him firmly at a medium pace. He’s already so leaky, panting hotly into the air and whining against the sound of spit against his cock.
This is exactly what he needed, and you both knew that, and you both knew that it wasn’t going to take long for him to get to that edge. Eddie lurched up into your touch on a particularly harsh pump, loving the feel of your hand against his skin, and soon he was leaning against your shoulder, muttering softly.
“I’m gonna…fuck sweetheart I’m gonna come, please let me come.” You don’t hesitate to let him come, kissing his neck softly as he comes into your hand, covering it in his sticky release. His hands are on you then, clinging to your waist and trying to ground himself before he becomes too overwhelmed with the various sensations. After a few moments of quiet, he expects you to grab a tissue to clean your hand, but instead, he watches in awe and fascination as you bring your hand to your mouth and let your tongue clean the remnants of his mess. “Baby, I swear you’re going to ruin me one of these days.”
“Eddie, trust me, pretty boy, ruining you would be the greatest pleasure in life. Now, lie down for me.” You’re back to your no-nonsense attitude, pressing a hand against his chest to push him down flat on the mattress, taking off his soiled briefs and throwing them in the direction of the laundry basket, and before Eddie can even say another word, you’ve stripped yourself down, your clothes discard on his floor.
He can’t help but look at you, stare at you with all the love and wonder in his eyes, and when you come back to him and straddle his legs, all he wants to do is touch you, feel you against his skin and hold you to him. But you won’t let him.
You’ve got the cock ring in your hand then, and Eddie knows it’s time for the real moment of the night.
“Are you sure about this, baby? We can stop any time and you know you can use your safeword.” You watch him, making sure he’s thinking about the question and not lying through his teeth just to please you, and when he nods while holding your gaze, you know he’s certain.
“Please baby, ruin me.” The cock ring is on him then, tight enough to stop him from coming but not too tight that it would hurt. And then you’re grabbing the lube, and as he watches with his bottom lip between his teeth in excitement, you slick your fingers up with it and coax Eddie to bend his legs up so you can sit between them.
The moment the tip of your finger circles the rim of his hole, Eddie is moaning loudly, and if you were in any other place you would have gagged him. But here in his bedroom, you couldn’t care less. He was so pretty, spread out in front of you with his hair sticking to his skin and his bottom lip kiss bitten and marks all over his chest and neck.
Slowly, you eased your finger in, one at a time with plenty of lube. Sometimes he arched up into the touch, moved his hand around for you to grab and hold, and sometimes he just babbled, mouthing against the sheets and clenching his fists. You always loved stretching him out, watching all the emotions that fluttered over his face as you sunk your fingers into him, and you knew he also enjoyed it, wouldn’t ask for it if he didn’t.
It didn’t take long to stretch him out, and by the time you had three fingers in him, he was reaching for you suddenly, pulling you into a desperate kiss that stole your breath and made your toes curl. Eddie knew he’d gone against the rules then, but he didn’t care and threw all caution to the wind, arms wrapping around your waist and nearly dislodging you from your position between your legs. His tongue was in your mouth, taking whatever it could and the kiss was messy, teeth and saliva and hot breath against soft skin. When pulled away for air, immediately a cocky smirk was on his face, and you weren’t going to let that stand.
“Oh Eddie, poor poor boy. Can’t you wait any longer? So impatient, thought you could do better.” You’re tutting, and that smirk of his still hasn’t dropped from his face, looking like the cat that got the canary. And that’s when your hand hit his cheek, a gentle smack that caused the metal head to groan with need. “Keep that behaviour up, and I’ll leave you here and get myself off without another thought for you.”
Eddie’s nodding, and he’s not protesting when you push him back against the bed, fingering him open again with new vigour. You knew he wasn’t trying to be bratty, but you knew that if you didn’t get on with your plan your boyfriend was going to have something to say very soon.
His cock was rock hard by then, and when you sneakily kissed the tip while he wasn’t watching, it had him near sobbing, eyes wet and looking right at you. You were also aching to have him inside you already, to have some relief from this torturous pleasure, and when he started speaking, you made your mind up quick.
“Please, baby, I’m ready oh fuck I’m so ready baby.” Eddie’s babbling, but you know he can’t take much more, so you move to put the strap on, on, making sure it was secure and covered in lube so you didn’t hurt your baby.
Eddie watched in unbound anticipation as you lined up to him, a pillow under his ass so you could give him the best angle, and when you slowly sunk into him, he suddenly turned into a whining mess, head rocking around and mouth falling open in pleasure. His skin was so hot, and the noises that the lube made in his hole were everything you thought it would be, and for a moment you had to stop and ground yourself, determined to make it worthwhile for him.
“There we go, pretty boy, oh, look at how well you’re taking my cock. Such a good boy for me.” Your words of praise turn his already pink cheeks even pinker, and when he looks at where the two of you are connected, he nearly loses it, eyes rolling back into his skull on a particularly hard thrust that has him seeing stars.
It’s so good, a picture-perfect image of Eddie spread out on the bed, of your cock hitting his prostate exactly like he needed, and his rock-hard cock sticking up in the air, so desperate to come. You were thrusting into him fast, thighs shaking in your position and the headboard of his bed hitting the wall every so often, and all Eddie could do was sob and whine and moan, begging for release.
But you knew you could take him that little bit further, and when you leaned over him and wrapped your hand around his neck to grip it securely, his eyes glazed over and his tongue lolled, wrapped up in a cocoon of pleasure he didn’t ever want to leave. He could still breathe fine with your hand around his throat, but the friction and the warmth of your hot skin on his sent sparks down his spine, and when you thrust into him particularly hard, he gasped, a small bead of precum leaking out of the tip of his cock.
“FUCK, baby, please I need it, I’m so close oh I can’t hold it baby please.” Eddie didn’t even notice that you’d taken the cock ring off then, too caught up in his babbling until you finally sunk down on his cock. He let out a yell then, loud and harsh against the soft wet sounds between you, and suddenly he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.
You could feel him coming into you, spilling his cum against your walls and watching as you rocked against him, seeking your precious release. He went limp, only able to keep his eyes on you and just before it became too much for him, he was begging you to come.
“Please baby, show me how much you need me, let go, baby, please.” His words were soft, and his hand gripped your thigh when you came, shaking above him, mouth wide open and eyelids shut tight. It was a euphoric sight, and something Eddie always enjoyed watching, and then you were falling against him, body heaving for breath.
Neither of you spoke for a while, too exhausted to muster up the energy needed for some simple conversation. Eddie still had tears rolling down his face from his release, and you could feel his cum spilling down his thighs as he slowly exited you, leaving you empty and slightly colder.
Finally, you were able to sit up and discard the strap, tossing it to the side to be dealt with later, and slowly like a new fawn trying to walk for the first time, you hobbled to the bathroom, going to pee and grab a washcloth for the both of you.
When you come back to the bedroom, Eddie’s sitting up, a new pair of briefs on and a lit blunt between his lips. He doesn’t notice you and you watch him from the doorway for a bit, giggling slightly when he nearly drops the blunt.
“You know, when I told you to ruin me, I didn’t really expect something like that, but I think you accomplished your goal.” His arms are spread wide for you to fall into, and he can’t help but kiss your whole face. He smiles when you hand him the washcloth, quickly cleaning himself up from leftover cum on his thighs before he lets out a sigh and takes another puff. “I’m feeling much better, thank you, baby.”
“Anytime, Eds. Now, hand me the blunt, sweet thing, I think I need to relax after that.” He chuckles at your comment, but does as you command, placing the blunt between your lips and watching you take a puff. He’s leaning against your chest then, hair tickling your skin as he pulls the covers over the two of you, and that’s when you remember the last toy you pulled from the box. “Wait, shit, I forgot to use the plug.”
Eddie howls at this, too blissed out to take the comment seriously, but you just groan in disappointment.
“You might have forgotten to use it, baby, but I didn’t.” He’s got that cocky smirk on his face again, and your eyes widen when you realise what he means, hand wondering down to feel between his ass cheeks. You can feel the butt of the plug against your palm, and that nearly has you hot and bothered all over again, with Eddie just chuckling at your expression. “C’mon now, relax with me, and maybe I’ll let you fuck me again in the morning.”
He’s pulling you into him then, bodies covered by sheets and half-smoked blunt discarded to the ashtray, and you can’t help but feel tired, yawning against his chest. He’s humming some old song, lips pressed against your forehead and hand caressing your hip, warm and secure and safe, and all he can think was thank god he was so needy earlier, because now he’s got you in his arms, finally able to sleep, and he’s not letting you go.
PLEASE REBLOG FOR MORE EDDIE MUNSON FICS!
Tagging: @wasteland-bvby @sadgirlml @gay-prentiss @writingquillsandpainpills @prettyboyeddiemunson @eddiemunsonbby
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vvventanni · 2 years
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Our Little Secret [Eddie / Reader]
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Summary:
“Eddie! Someone could still catch us…”. But you're giggling these words into his neck, one leg already wrapping around his and begging for him to touch you again.
“A little bit of a risk, but we’re hidden from view. That’s the exciting part don't ya think?” His tongue pokes out from the side of his mouth in a simultaneously evil, yet cute gesture and you think you’re going to go crazy.
--- Or, You and Eddie discover that fooling around in places you shouldn’t be and hiding it from the entire school is an enticing little game to play. How long can you go before you get caught?
Or, the entire school eventually finds out because Eddie is a massive sweetheart and forgets to keep up the façade in a moment of panic.
Tags/warnings: smut, AU: no upside down, female reader, secret relationship, fluff and smut, everybody lives, happy ending.
Status: Ongoing. Currently 20k+ words.
Read here on ao3 <3
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tenpintsof-sundrop · 22 days
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-> people stealing, binding and selling fics on Etsy, risking everything that AO3 has built since the Anne Rice lawsuits
-> AI scraping being everywhere and Gen Z seeing nothing wrong with using AI to "help" fanfiction or outright "write it" for them, while older fanfic authors have struggled for years to perfect the style you love
-> comments being down across the board and consumption culture being at an all time high. a fic gets 800 notes practically overnight and doesn't get a single comment (and sometimes I literally have to beg for comments/feedback on my fics when I know that hundreds of people are reading them)
-> me, grinding my teeth while pouring my heart and soul into a 40k fic that I know will be forgotten by fandom in a month or could possibly be stolen to be sold as a "novel": I do this because I love this. I do this because I love this. I do this because it's my passion. I don't want to quit doing something that I love so much.
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burgundybmw · 2 years
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Red: A Stranger Things Social Media AU Masterlist
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Paring: Eddie Munson x Mayfield!Reader
Summary: Y/N Mayfield likes her life, she has good friends, an amazing sister (a not so amazing step brother), and an intense love for music. The only thing missing in her life is a love life, but that could all change soon.
Author's Note: Social Media AU! Everybody lives no body dies, Hawkins is still weird, but what else is new. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!
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Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
Part Fourteen
Part Fifteen
Part Sixteen
Part Seventeen
Part Eighteen
Part Nineteen
Part Twenty
Part Twenty One
Part Twenty Two
Part Twenty Three
Part Twenty Four
Part Twenty Five
Part Twenty Six
Deleted Scene 18+
Part Twenty Seven
Part Twenty Eight
Part Twenty Nine
Part Thirty
Part Thirty One
Part Thirty Two
Part Thirty Three
Part Thirty Four
Part Thirty Five
Part Thirty Six
Final Part
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aicosu · 1 year
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Ye, Verily Eddie comes home on Valentine's day to give his wife, Chrissy, whatever she wants. And she ends up wanting something very specific.
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storiesforallfandoms · 9 months
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I know I have like a million requests to work on here, and I have a Scream!Steddie on AO3 already (check it out if you haven’t yet: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46887055/chapters/118106461)
But what if I started the FNAF!Steddie fanfic I’ve been planning?
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teddyeyeseddie · 1 year
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Hi guys!!!! I’m back!
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I’ve had a rough time with postpartum so expect a lot of dad!dean & Eddie fics to help me cope..
Going to continue DMTNT and wildflowers for the New Year!
Requests are open and encouraged
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fandomgal64 · 2 years
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Hey guys! So as you lovely people who follow me know I’m a Moon Knight Blog, but I just made a new blog for Stranger Things, and it’s called @strangerthings64
So if you like all Stranger Things stuff or have totally fallen for Eddie Munson, then go follow it and I’ll post there soon!! :)
- Kaity
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twobitcowboy · 2 years
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Easy Work for Easy Prey
Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson
Word Count: 1,527
Tags: Body Horror, Gore, Vampire!Eddie Munson
Read it on AO3
PART I: BIRTH
He has been made undone, flesh and soul torn asunder. The whipping tails and gnashing teeth like the hounds of hell upon his back, dragging him to his punishment pit. It is a peculiar thing, to feel the warm, wet slip of your own organs card through your fingers.
He watches the face of that sweet boy, those saline raindrops that paint their faces. Poor Dustin, he thinks, I did this to save you. Will you ever forgive me? It’s with a shaking breath that he lets go, and slips into the floaty space where the hotcoldshaking doesn’t make his stomach roll. It’s just for a little bit, he’s sure. Just for a little while and he’ll be back, no need to worry. He’s dead though. He’s dead, but it’s just for a little while and then he’ll be back. He tells Dustin this, but his lips won’t move; his tongue is still and dry behind his teeth. It’s no matter, he knows. He’ll know. 
The sky above him shifts, the swirling deep blues cut with bolts of red chase out any mortal life from below- or above, he’s not really sure of The Upside Down’s orientation- leaving him alone. It starts with his skin, the slow knitting of necrotic, black and grey tissue running in swaths like a river of death over his body. They itch like a healing tattoo, something he’s used to, but isn’t any more comforting in its familiarity. Worse still is the way he can’t soothe the feeling, stuck in a frozen limbo as his body changes against his will and he has to be present for it all. 
The waiting is the worst part, the weeks spent immobile as the realm eats at his flesh, reshaping him just to spit him back out. Nothing to do but feel the ache in his jaw as new, keen fangs work their way in, pushing out the teeth in their way. Perhaps the worst is the wings. It starts with the familiar bone-deep ache of a growth spurt, racing up and down his back, but settling heaviest in his shoulder blades. Growing new bone is one thing, but the emergence of these new limbs is excruciating. The building pressure, for days as the skin turns taunt and inflamed, until it finally splits like a too-ripe fruit. Feeling the skin bursts and flesh tear to birth malformed wings, shaped in a mockery of his downfall.  
The pain eats away at his mind, worming its way in to replace even the sweetest of memories, of which there are few. His mind knows no sounds but his screams, the primal calls of a man on the edge of sanity. It is a gift of mercy that he has no control of his body, for surely his vocal cords would have been rendered futile. The pain is one of madness, the kind that drives beings to take their own life, just to end the suffering. 
In the end, he is no more human than anything else that calls the Upside Down its home. 
-
The bats do not leave him alone. It is a cruel, taunting jest that they gather about him, always sweeping low to lash him with their tails. Their shrill shrieks ring in his ears long after the beasts themselves have gone quiet. Following where ever he roams, he detests his little entourage and how they travel on those damned wings. His own dip and drag, the weight of them sending searing muscle pain down either side of his spine. They shake and tremble like a baby fawn when he tries to use them, still learning how to even think about moving the muscles in these new parts of himself. Having the brain rewire itself while sitting through it awake is agony, synapses making new connections that fire little shocks of electricity through grey matter as they learn new limbs. He thinks maybe it’s worse than the initial transformation, at least then he was in control of his own mind, even in torment. 
His patience runs out on the third day of reanimation. The rocks of the quarry act as a roost for the demobats and himself, though the little terrors rest much lower. Watching the black mass of them rise from the deep hole is as awe-inspiring as it is horrific. 
It’s on one of these flights from the nest that an errant, low-flying bat catches his ire. A pale, taloned hand shoots out and snags one of the creature’s tails. The force from the bat’s speed initially yanks his arm back, jerking his body before he flexes his newly overpowered muscles, reeling the creature back in. It shrieks and thrashes, tails whipping and wrapping tightly around his arms. He tucks his wings in as best he can to avoid damage from the flailing appendages. Its wings are strange, so unlike his own but similar nonetheless. He repositions his hold on the bat, gripping it tightly by the neck with his left hand and holding it to the ground so he can further examine it. 
He stretches one of the bat’s wings out with his hand, running his fingers over the leathery flesh. It’s smooth, cold, almost slimy in a way, like the skin of a frog or a fish; nothing like the warm, velvety feel of his own wings where they brush against the bare skin of his sides. The other wing still swings wild and free, one of the sharp hooks at the end of the bone catches the skin of his face, drawing a neat, thin line of stinging pain. 
He hisses, jerking back from the creature but tightening his grip at the same time. The bat wails, thrashing even harder in his hands. He looks to the wing and notices his sharp, hardened nails threaten the integrity of the delicate membrane. With sick satisfaction, he presses harder, even as the shrill calls deafen his ringing ears. Thin flesh flexes and bends with the pressure, bulging out grotesquely until each little vein is visible, even in the murky gloom of this fated Hell. Vindication fills him as finally, finally , the skin gives with a pop! The pressure on his claws immediately dissipates, leaving the thick, cool sludge of the bat’s blood to coat his fingers, run down, and pool in his palm. 
The smell breaks something loose in him. A hunger so unspeakable inundates him, his mouth puckering as it floods with saliva, spilling past his cracked lips to wet his chin. He gasps, shudders, and pants as he digs his fingers into the flesh. He wants to rip and tear , to decimate the corpse to an unrecognizable heap at his feet. Trembling, blood-soaked hands bring the creature to his face without volition. A bite will do too, he supposes. 
His tongue laves over the cool stomach of the creature, still trying to wiggle its way out of his grasp. It's soft here, the flesh gives under the prodding pressure of tongue and teeth; different from the skin-wrapped bone, the bumping ridges of the rib cage, the hard, thick sturdiness of the head. Soft with the promise of padded tissue, entrails and blood . The sharp points of his teeth break the surface of the skin, and something in the back of his head tells him that this is familiar . He sinks his teeth further in, pushing the lax flesh into his mouth more and more until his fangs meet, splitting the abdomen open. Entrails rush to fill his maw, flooding his tongue with the sour of viscera and the metallic tang of blood. 
A guttural moan shakes itself loose from his chest, his eyelids flutter as the crimson irises they house to roll back in ecstasy. His jaw unhinges more, letting him suck in shaking, panting breaths around the feast of innards. His brain lights up, and sends zipping shocks through every limb and vein, making muscles tremble in elation. 
The slip of intestines in his mouth, down his throat, is familiar once more, as they once were at his fingertips. He slurps , gulping down the rotten nectar of the bat, fangs puncturing and molars gnawing until he can swallow. The meat slithers down his gullet, leaving a trail of burning warmth even though it’s cool to the external touch. His head pulls away, tilting back as little white strings- like spiderwebs- of fascia tether his mouth to the creature. Maniacal laughter bubbles in his chest, gurgling the sludge-like blood that sits in his throat. It’s an uncontrollable, all-consuming pleasure, he’s lightheaded with euphoria as he laughs, laughs, and can’t stop laughing . 
Blood drip, drip, drips from his mouth onto stone, soaking into tattered black denim. Very metal, his voice says in his head. Whatever that means. When the laughter subsides some, to just little bursts of breathy elation, he hums, looking back down at the demobat carcass in his hands. It’s dead, the only movements left are little cadaveric spasms, twitching wings, and the like. What a shame, he would have liked to dig up into the chest cavity, and feel its heartbeat against his lips. Well, there’s always next time.
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whatamesswehavemade · 2 years
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Hey everyone! Just a quick update! I first want to thank everyone for all of the love on my last story. I didn't expect it to blow up like that! I do have some requests in my inbox rn that I will be getting to today or tomorrow, but I do have some homework I have to get to first.
Also, I am working on a longer piece about Steve. I'm thinking about breaking it into parts so it's not one, crazy long post. It'd probably be two or three parts. So keep an eye out for that too!
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abibliophobiaa · 1 year
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my moon, my stars!!! 🌙🌟 i have a little request for your 1k follower celebration :)
New Moon: Mostly comfort, but could have a little bit of hurt at the beginning if needed ;)
Waxing Moon: song for inspo!! https://open.spotify.com/track/7jwZYPS8reDirsT4Mvqpui?si=526676aaa33541ae
Full Moon: would love a friends-to-lovers where they have a fight or miscommunicate in some way and realize they really have feelings 🥺
Waning Moon: our one and only boy Eddie Munson
love you endlessly!!!
hi lovey, here’s 1.4k words of some hurt, mixed with a lot of sweetness & modern!Eddie — because cellphones. 🥰
-
It’s funny – and it’s also not. How you got here, that is.
One moment, it’s drinks with your best friends, laughing over another year passing, and the next it’s crushed hearts over whispered words. It’s staring into Eddie’s eyes as his mouth forms the sentiments you’ve been so desperate and terrified to hear. Because he loves you – and that should be a great thing, shouldn’t it? It’s been a thought in the back of your mind for years. A wish upon a star, the breath you exhale every year over your birthday cake as candles flicker dark, it’s the petals of the proverbial flower that fall to the floor, each muttering “he loves me not, he loves me not, he loves me not.”
Surprisingly, he does.
And you should be happy.
But you remain silent.
Frozen on the spot, like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing – all without the voice to speak what you want to say.
You don’t even know what you want to say.
You come up empty.
Helpless, swirling around a dark drain.
Because he’s gone and thrown a wrench into everything.
Fear spins you like a top, because the thought of losing Eddie instantly unfurls within you like a cruel flower, staring you in the face. Deceptively pretty, alluring and sweet.
Yet you watch Eddie’s face falter all the same. Catch the downturn of his lips. The way his shoulders droop. The tension that falls atop his form. And he’s hugging you; arms loop around your shoulders to pull you close, chest to chest, heart to heart, his lips at your ear and your stomach in your throat.
“I’ll give you time,” he murmurs against your skin. “However long you need.”
Days turn into weeks.
Weeks turn into months.
You talk to Eddie, sure.
You see him at get-togethers with your friends.
But it’s different.
Changed from that fateful New Years day.
“I love you.”
Chad doesn’t open the door for you when you get to the restaurant for your date. Sure, you don’t need him to, but you still notice.
“I love you so fucking much.”
Jeffrey says you’re pretty, but he’s not looking for anything serious, and he’s offended when you turn down his invite to his apartment after happy hour where he talks about finance and little else.
“I have for a long time.”
Keith is vegan, and that’s great. But he tells you as much fifteen times before you even get your food delivered to the table by a patient waiter who stood and listened for ten minutes while he modified his whole order.
Keith is also not Eddie. Then again, no one is. And it becomes clearer that the fear, the running — it only leads to dead ends where happiness is a butterfly, fluttering away from you in the wind.
It’s at a party the next Friday your roommate hosts, surrounded by faces of people whose names you’ll never remember, that a familiar pop-up with Eddie’s name jumps to the top of your phone screen. His contact photo is one you took with him last summer back on Steve’s boat, grinning from ear to ear without a care in the world.
How are you doing?
Actually?
Would never ask you to lie.
Shitty.
Need me to pick you up? Send me your location and I’ll come get you.
Are you sure?
Always, beautiful.
Eddie’s van whips around the corner, the familiar screech of tires like music to your ears as he rolls down a window and beckons you forward.
You clamber in with a huff, feet on the dashboard — which he says he hates, but secretly loves — fingers tapping against your knee. It’s familiar and it’s not. Seeing him there, sitting in a pair of sweats and a band tee with his leather jacket thrown over it, hair still fluffy from his shower and the air. He’s beautiful and you want to say he’s yours, but you don’t.
That’s how you got into this situation, isn’t it? The inability to speak when the moment calls for it. The inability to say the words welling from the depths of your heart. But Eddie’s quiet as you settle down. His fingers curl around the steering wheel, eyes darting to yours momentarily as you buckle in, dark waves falling about his shoulders. There’s a smolder of umber that flickers across your face fleetingly before it settles back on the roads ahead, the destination before you unknown.
You drive around town in silence. Your eyes rove across the streets, blurs of cars passing on your right, whirs of color that are there one moment and gone the next. Just like the moments spilling through your fingers — slipping through them like sand.
He doesn’t speak. Then again, he never really has to. Eddie is enigmatic and magnetic. He’s loud and boisterous on his best day, and downright infectious on his worst. He is joy and frenetic energy personified, endless dimple-clad smiles, and exuberant laughter.
And he’s your best friend. Your best friend who has very much expressed his love toward you. The same best friend you’re in love with. There are two options, clearer now to you than ever before, laid out before you: Disrupt the balance of things and lose him forever, or try and risk it all, throwing all caution to the wind for the potential of an infinite.
“Can we go somewhere?” Your voice is no more than a whisper. A puff of air into the wind, lost as soon as it comes.
“Sure. Where to?” He’s staring straight ahead, glancing over his shoulder to switch lanes as cars pass.
“Anywhere,” you tell him, and watch as the busy roads become back routes. As the endless hum of cars becomes the quiet lull of water lapping at a dock, his fingers curl around yours. He leads you out and onto Lover’s Lake, heads tipping up to the sky to take in the stars above.
Neither of you talks. Then again, neither of you really has to. You have always had this sort of friendship. The mutual understanding that the simple peace found as a constant between the two of you drowns out the chaos of the world outside. That when you glance over at Eddie to see the stars reflected in his eyes, and his gaze slowly drifts to yours, everything just stops when he whispers your name.
His lip quirks into a smile. He loves me. Your fingertips drift along the dock between you, a soft press of digits against the edge of his palm. He loves me not. Warm skin crawls up and over yours, resting over the back of your hand; his thumb brushes line after line into your skin. A swirl of comfort against the webbing between thumb and pointer. He loves me. You glance down to where you're connected, every minute between now and New Years leading to this single, perfect moment. He loves me not. He told you however long you need. Did he mean it?
“Ed?”
It’s a gentle coaxing of breath from your lungs as his head lowers closer to yours, shrouding those stars in his eyes with darkness. Inky black and full of you.
“Yeah?” It’s a soft brush of his lower lip against yours when he speaks. A spark bright enough to ignite a wildfire if you allow it — if you fan the flames bursting low in your gut. Should you tend to it now, you’ll burn ablaze. And you’ll do so willingly if only for a thousand tiny moments like this with the one you love.
“Did you mean it?” You whisper. His palm slides up the inside of your forearm, thumb pressing into the skin there, where you’re sure he can feel your pulse thrumming violently against skin. “About giving me all the time I need.”
He loves me.
“I’ve never been able to lie to you, sweetheart.”
He loves me.
“Just tell me you’re ready,” he continues.
He loves me.
You do in a breathless rush, fingers sliding into the front of his jacket, clutching at leather as his ring-clad hand curls around your cheek and pulls you into a kiss that feels like a comforting hug, like sliding through molasses, flames licking at your skin, coaxing you further into abandon.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur, though you’re not sure why. For not saying anything, for making him wait, for the time missed that you could have spent in his arms like this. Your lips brush over his once more, those dark eyes of his roaming over your features in the night. “For running.”
“You know I’ll always find you when you stop, right?”
And you do. In a sea of thousands, Eddie’s always been able to pick you out of the crowd. Simple as breathing, comforting, like knowing the sun will always rise with every new day.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
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midnightreid · 2 years
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STRANGER THINGS SMUT MASTERLIST
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STRANGER THINGS SMUT MASTERLIST = 21/08/22
TAGLIST | REQUEST FORM
Hiya, here are all my NSFW Stranger Things pieces. Right now, I usually write fics for GN! reader with female anatomy, so please be aware of that!
You must be OVER 18 to read and follow, and if you'd like to request send it to my ASK BOX!
You can find my SFW pieces over at @will-on-the-internet!
Right now I am writing for:
Steve Harrington
Jonathan Byers
Eddie Munson
Robin Buckley
Eddie x Steve x Reader
Eddie x Steve
Jonathan x Steve
STEVE HARRINGTON
Night Lights Summary: Hotel sex with Steve, way above the night lights.
Mine Summary: You knew you were pushing all of Steve's buttons, but boy was it worth it.
Indiana Jones Summary: When Steve persuades you to dress up as Marion while he dresses up as Indiana Jones for the Family Video stores Halloween shift, you didn’t think things could get much better. Until the two of you are left in the shop alone…
Bathroom Thrills Summary: Bathroom sex might not be the most romantic thing in the world, but with Steve, you always need more.
All Day Steve Harrington has always been a tease, so you pay him back.
JONATHAN BYERS
Bound Together Summary: First times weren't always perfect or simple or exciting, but with Jonathan, it didn't need to be.
EDDIE MUNSON
Trouble Maker Summary: Eddie Munson has always been a trouble maker, and he knows exactly how to push your buttons. But that doesn't stop you from making him yours.
Lucky Boy Summary: Eddie Munson always deserves a reward when he's done well, so after another magnificent show with his band, who are you to deny him his prize, in the back of the van, naked and all to himself.
Show Me Summary: When you admit to Eddie that you've never had a good experience in bed, he's determined to change that, and boy does he make you realise what you've been missing out on.
Needy Boy Summary: Eddie Munson isn't feeling himself, and when you find out your needy boy just wants you, you give him everything he desires.
Dirty Thing: You've pushed the limit with teasing Eddie tonight, and he's going to do everything in your power to eat your own words. Hold on tight little thing. The reader is AFAB, but uses gender-neutral pronouns!
EDDIE MUNSON X STEVE HARRINGTON X READER
Show: Eddie likes to show you off, and what better person to show you off to than Steve Harrington, the man of both your dreams? GN! READER!
Strung: Eddie's always liked dishing out punishments, and when Steve fucks up, it's up to you and Eddie to make sure he learns his lesson. GN! READER!
ROBIN BUCKLEY
Coming soon!
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abibliophobiaa · 1 year
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Stuck in a Moment
banner credit to @blue-mossbird​. check out her stories if you have not, because they're all lovely!
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Summary: 
You are two peas in a pod. The peanut butter to his jelly. Macaroni to his cheese. The Pippin to his Merry. And that’s fine—that’s normal. 
That’s a certainty. It has been since you were ten years old and will remain that way forever. 
That is, until that fateful day in July when everything you knew came to a screeching, blinding halt. 
And there’s only one problem: the day you wished had never happened, the one that shook your version of comfortable, safe, undisturbed normal—you keep living it over and over again. 
“You’ve got to get yourself together, you’ve got stuck in a moment, and you can’t get out of it…”
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Warnings and tags: best friends to lovers, limited use of y/n (eddie refers to r as “pip/pippin” and other nicknames), time loop/groundhog day trope, modern day au, angst, mentions of and depictions of death, injury, mentions of alcohol, smut, HEA, 18+ minors dni.
playlist || ao3
🏷️ tag list is open
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Chapter List:
one - coming soon...
two - coming soon...
three - coming soon...
four - coming soon...
… and beyond…
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tenpintsof-sundrop · 17 days
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Did you know that you can reblog fics with tags in order to bookmark them?
Okay the replies on this post are kind of sending me to space, so I figured I needed to make a new post.
I know a lot of people are new to tumblr and might not know how to use tumblr properly, and it does just make me go ??? whenever I look on someone's account and they have 0 reblogs and just have a giant wall of fanfiction in their likes. Because I cannot imagine scrolling through endless fanfiction posts in my likes looking for one fic when organizing things with tags is so much better.
First of all, for new people - reposting and reblogging are two very different things. If a writer has "do not repost" as a disclaimer, they are not talking about reblogging.
Reposting is when you copy and paste someone's entire work, make a brand new post, and then post their work under the implication that it is your own.
Reblogging is a function that is built into the website (and app) that comes up in a creator's notifications, showing that you appreciate their work because you interacted with it. Reblogs always have links back to the original poster so people can find them and follow them.
So - when you hit the reblog button (the one next to the like button that is shaped like a recycling symbol) - you are giving the author credit and encouraging them.
Also, you can use tags on your reblog to organize fanfiction for your own use later!
You can tag by genre -> #smut #angst #hurt and comfort
You can tag by a character's name -> #Spencer Reid #Emily Prentiss #Jennifer Jareau
You can tag by a pairing -> #Spencer Reid x Reader #Emily Prentiss x Reader
If you read fanfic from a lot of different fandoms, you can even structure your tags to include multiple elements -> #Spencer Reid x Reader Smut
A lot of people even reblog fanfics and tag them as #TBR or #to be read - in order to bookmark a fic that they are interested in and want to come back to later.
And you can edit the tags on posts you have reblogged at any time, so if you want to edit something that you have already read and update the tags, you can do that.
I think it's a shame that people aren't taking advantage of this websites very useful features (while supporting fanfic writers at the same time). You don't need to keep links to Tumblr fanfiction somewhere else in order to organize them - if you use Tumblr right, you can keep everything organized within Tumblr and it works perfectly.
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tenpintsof-sundrop · 17 days
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Something I really wonder about people who have a giant wall of fics in their likes. I wonder how those people are doing just... in general.
Do they not know that they can reblog fics with tags in order to bookmark them for later?
Like - I cannot imagine the hell of scrolling through hundreds of posts looking for one specific fic in your likes when you could just search through the tags on your own blog in order to find a fic. Reblog tags are literally the best bookmarking system ever (especially when you have your custom theme and archive turned on, but I know that a lot of people who only use mobile don't do that).
But yeah. Like - if you only use Tumblr for fanfiction and you don't use reblog tags, then how are you even living?
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