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resident-gay-bitch · 1 year

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Too Late - Sixteen

summary: You’ve always secretly pined over Eddie Munson, your best friend, but when you find out he’s dating Chrissy Cunningham, you reach your breaking point. you seek comfort from Gareth, your second best friend. you figure out he’s got a crush, but you don’t know who, you were determined to figure it out though. but he was determined to keep his feelings for you locked away forever. but plans change, right?

too late masterlist - this is the final chap :(

December rolled around the corner faster than expected. You and Gareth had just celebrated your nine months together, and everything was going great. You and Chrissy had begun to grow closer again, but she ended up moving to California for the summer with Jason, he went to stay with family before college, so you hardly saw her. You did call a lot though. She got back about a month ago, and you’d both just been so busy, you’d only managed to catch up once. The only times you had seen Eddie, was when you’d pass each other in the grocery store, or that one time when you had gone to the movies with Gareth and he was just leaving the cinema with Dustin. You hadn’t spoken, just sharing a glance that lasted no longer than a few seconds. Tonight was Christmas eve, and the air was cold and snow was falling. You were cozying up in Gareth's poolroom with him and the boys, just listening to the Bon Jovi record your boyfriend got you for Christmas. It was a peaceful night. You'd just stuffed your faces with a delicious dinner with Lizzie and Scott.

There was a knock at the glass door, and you all turned your heads to see Scott himself, wrapped up in coats and scarfs, shaking in the cold. You quickly jumped up to pull him into the warm room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Hi, sorry to intrude on your teenage bonding time,” he smiled as he spoke, “but Liz just hopped into the shower and I thought I’d take the opportunity to talk to you… Gareth.”

“Oh god.” Gareth mumbled, lifting himself up from the bean bag, “What have I done now? I promise you, the tap was already broken when I woke up thismo-”

“No, no.” Scott shook his head, “You're not in trouble… the opposite of that, actually.”

“What’s the opposite of being in trouble?”

Scott thought for a moment, “I don’t know.”

Gareth nodded. You walked up next to him, looking at Mr Clark expectantly. He cleared his throat.

“Right… so… Gareth, I don’t ever expect you to call me dad…”

You gasped, a smile spreading over your face as you realised what was coming. Gareth didn't. He raised an eyebrow and scrunched up his face with confusion, “Okay…”

“But.” Scott nodded, burying through his pockets. You wrapped your arms around Gareth's bicep, jumping with excitement, watching with anticipation. Scott smiled, noticing your excitement. The other two boys were smiling too, sending a few ‘ooh’s his way. Gareth was still confused. Scott held out a little blue box, “May I please have your blessing to ask your mother… to marry me?”

Gareth looked up at him wide eyed, “You want to marry my mum?”

You squeezed his arm again.

Scott took a shaky breath, offering the box to Gareth, “If you’ll allow me, yes. I know your opinion is important to her, I just hope I have won you over…” He tipped his head, “it’s not much. A teacher's salary only really pays the bills, but…”

Gareth hesitantly took the box, opening it up slowly. You peered over his shoulder to see a gorgeous gold ring with a diamond in the centre, pearly stones surrounding it to look like the petals on a flower. It was perfect. Gareth stared at the ring, silence lingered in the room. Scott stared at him, wiggling his fingers as he started to worry with Gareth's lack of response.

He looked up, finally, closing the box. Emotionless, he spoke, “Why do you want to marry her?”

“Uh…” Scott glanced over at your confused expression before looking back at your boyfriend, “Because I love her, and she makes me happy. I’d- I’d love to make her happy, and nothing would mean more to me than your blessing.”

Gareth stared at him.

“I want… I want to spend my life with her.”

“What makes you think you're good enough to spend your life with her?” Gareth quirked an eyebrow, and you gave him a dissatisfied look.

“I…” Scott looked to the ground, “I’m-”

“Nah, I’m just messin with ya.” Gareth laughed, handing the ring back to Scott and slapping him on the shoulder, “Course you can marry my mum. I’m surprised we haven’t scared you off yet.”

Scott smiled, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Gareth smiled, “But I’m never calling you dad.”

“No, of course not.” He shook his head and started for the door.

“Go get her Mr Clark!” You shouted.

“It’s Scott.” He shouted back with a smile.

“No it’s not.” You waved him off.

You turned to Gareth with an excited squeal and hugged him tight.

—————————————————————————

The second knock on the door you got that night was from Chrissy. Jeff let her inside so her teeth would stop chattering in the cold, and you quickly pulled her into a hug, both to warm her up and because you missed her. She handed you a gift, perfectly wrapped with a lavish bow, and you handed her one too.

“Thanks Chris.” You smiled, tearing open the paper. Inside was a new pair of boots, “What the fuck?”

“Wh- do you not like them?”

You lifted up the leather shoe with wide eyes, “I… how much did these cost you?”

“It’s not about the money.”

“But now I feel bad.” You huffed.

She tore open her present to find a mixtape, a bracelet with a cute flower charm, and a pin to stick to her leather jacket. You had been decorating yours over the year with buttons and pins, one of them matched with one on Chrissy's jacket from the last time you had hung out. Little hearts with arrows through them. This pin was a Blondie one. Chrissy liked Blondie a lot, they were the crossover between her beloved pop and your rock. She squealed, pulling you into a hug.

“Thank you!”

You laughed, “You’re kidding right? Thank you!”

She rolled her eyes, “Don’t stress it, babe. I knew you had been eying them off for a while.”

You smiled and hugged her again.

“Look, I can’t stay. Jason’s out the front, we’re heading to my parents for the night. Big Christmas celebrations and were running late. But I’ll see you new years, yes?”

“Yeah.” You smiled, “Come on, I’ll walk you out. Say hi to Carver.”

“Okay.” She helped you pull on your boots and a thick winter coat.

You both waddled out the front to find Jason leaning up against his car, smoking a cigarette. You found that a little strange, a guy of his ‘status’, smoking, funny. She ran right into his arms for warmth.

“Carver.” You nodded at him, keeping a metre or so��s distance.

“L/N.” He nodded, extending his hand out, “Truce?”

You raised your eyebrows for a moment, looking between him and his hand.

He sighed, “Sorry for being a dick back in middle school.” He shrugged, “Sorry for being a dick always, there's no excuse. I’m just sorry.” He sighed.

You wobbled your head, thinking for a moment, “You did bully me.”

He scrunched up his face, “Yeah…” he sighed, “If it makes you feel any better, all that bullying really fucked me over. I didn’t get into college… at all.”

Your mouth gaped open, “Yeah, that does make me feel better, actually.” You laughed.

There was a flash of light, and all three of you turned to see who had pulled up out the front. The lights switched off, and you realised it was Eddie’s van. Shit. Wayne hopped out, bag in hand. He waved at you, “Y/N!” He smiled, “Merry Christmas, just droppin’ off some gifts.”

“Merry Christmas, Wayne.” You smiled back, “I’ll be in in a sec. Boys are out the back.”

He nodded and walked up to the front door. Eddie hooped out of his van, seemingly not having noticed you yet. He leant against the hood, lighting a cigarette. You looked at Chrissy, who was looking at the ground and frowning, Jason's arm getting tighter around her. Eddie took the first puff, looking out at the night sky, brushing off the snow that fell down on his face. Jason cleared his throat. Eddie snapped his head in your direction and the cigarette almost fell from his mouth. You noticed a moment of panic in his eyes before he resumed his calm manor.

He nodded his head once, “Carver… Cunningham…” He looked at you for a moment, “L/N. Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah.” You nodded back.

“Very merry indeed.” Jason smiled at him, “Got any plans, Munson?”

Eddie sighed, “Quiet night with Wayne… heading over to the Hendersons tomorrow.”

You nodded. Jason smiled, rubbing hand up and down Chrissy's arm, “That’s nice. I’m heading over to Chrissy’s for the night. We’ve got a big family celebration tomorrow, don’t we, baby?” He watched Eddie tense.

You couldn’t help but smirk behind your scarf. Jason was a mean girl, and you hated it, but god, right now you loved it. You were inspired, “Sounds lovely. I’m spending the night here, celebrating the morning with Lizzie and her man. Then Garebears comin over to mine for Christmas Dinner.” You grinned, Eddie always used to spend Christmas dinner at your house.

Eddie frowned, “Ah.” he nodded a few times, “Good to see you girls as friends again.”

You both stared at him for a moment, sharing a little look of disbelief. Chrissy raised her eyebrows, “Yeah. Having regretful feelings for a jackass really builds a bond.”

Eddie sniggered, looking away for a moment, “Yeah.”

“Anyway.” Jason broke the tension, “We gotta get going. I got some Cunninghams to suck up too.”

Chrissy giggled, “It was lovely seeing you again. Thank you for my gift.”

“Of course.” You smiled, pulling her in for a hug and giving her a little cheek kiss, “We will have to catch up more in the new year.”

“Absolutely.” She smiled.

“Maybe I can even rope Gareth into a double date some time.” You looked at Jason, “Though, that might take some convincing.”

“Mhm.” He nodded, putting his hand out to shake again, “Can we be civil… for Chris?”

You sighed, slapping your hand into his and giving it a firm shake, “For Chris.”

He smiled and saluted you as he opened the door for his girlfriend. You stood watching as they climbed in and drove off, sending them a little wave as they disappeared down the street. You turned to Eddie and walked up to him, plucking the cigarette from his lips and sticking it between your own.

“Okay then.” He huffed.

“It’s the least you could do, jackass.” You leant back against the hood of his van beside him.

He sighed, looking to the ground, “Sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

He looked at you, “Fine. I’m not. Happy?”

“Mhm.” You nodded half heartedly, refusing to look at him as you took another drag.

“You and Gareth are still together then?”

“Nine months.” You exhaled, tapping the ash off the end of the smoke, “It’s great.”

Eddie nodded, “That’s good then.”

“Yep.” You popped your lips on the ‘P’.

There was silence for a moment, and Eddie turned to you, “I still love you.”

You sighed and dropped the cigarette, stubbing it out with your toe, “Good for you.”

“Can you just-” He interrupted himself with a deep breath, “Please, hear me out?”

You looked at him, “What? What’s there to hear, Eddie?” You rolled your eyes, “You’ve already forced yourself on me, begged me for forgiveness and love… I don’t know what else there is to do.”

He rubbed his brow, “I know I’ve fucked up. I know that now, I do… but I can get better. You can- you can help me-”

“Why would I want to do that when I have a perfectly good boyfriend in there, who loves me unconditionally, and wants nothing but my happiness?” You raised your eyebrows and shook your head, “Unlike you, Eddie, Gareth is actually loveable.”

He closed his eyes, taking that like a stake to the heart, “Please-”

“Merry Christmas.” You scoffed, walking back to the house.

You decided to not tell Gareth, or anyone about that interaction with Eddie tonight. It wasn’t the time. The mood was high and people were happy, and talking of Eddie would just ruin that entirely. You’d stash it away for another time.

—————————————————————————

The third time you got a knock on the door was right around midnight.

You and the boys were all in a pile, lazing on one another. You’d just hotboxed the shit out of Gareth's poolroom, and you were all hazy and warm with bloodshot eyes. You had heard a scream, all sitting up in fear. And about two minutes later, when you were all halfway through pulling your boots on sloppily, the knock came. It was from Lizzie, and she was dressed in pyjamas and socks and nothing else, tears streaming down her face. Gareth slid open the door and she hugged him tight. You saw Scott running out the back door with a coat and scarf and beanie slung over his arm for her.

“What?” You asked, rubbing your eyes, your speech was slow.

“I’m engaged!” She shrieked, jumping up and down like a child on Christmas morning.

“Fuck.” Gareth smiled, his voice just as slow as yours, he hugged her again, “Congratulations, mum.”

She wiped at her tears and came to hug you too, “Ah, look at it.” She pulled back and shoved her hand in yours and Gareth's faces, then in Jeff and Grants, “Isn’t it gorgeous.”

“Hell yeah.” Jeff nodded.

“Totally rad, Missus E.” Grant smiled.

“It’s like… so cool.” Gareth began to laugh.

“Looks like somethin in a movie, Lizz.” You grinned.

“Yeah… like,” Gareth thought for a moment, “like a secret spy gadget, you know?”

You laughed, “Like it shoots lasers.”

You and Gareth started pretending like you had laser shooting rings on and fought. Gareth dramatically fell to the ground.

“Are you high?” Lizzie asked.

“What?” You asked, acting like you had no idea what she was talking about but doing a terrible job at it, “Us… high? Lizzie… we would never.”

“Never.” Jeff added.

Gareth tried to stand up, but stumbled. He fell over and you all started laughing. He pressed his palms to his eyes, “God, I’m so high.”

You all started laughing more. Lizzie glared at her son, and then at you. You pulled a face of embarrassment, and it had her rolling her eyes with a smile, “Okay weirdos. Be responsible.” She grabbed Scotts hand, dragging him for the door, “Don’t come inside. My fiance and I would like the house to ourselves.”

“Ewww.” Gareth poked his tongue out, “Mum, that’s gross. That’s my teacher!”

“Not your teacher anymore.” Scott nodded as he was dragged away.

You giggled and fell down on top of Gareth, “Go Lizzie, I think.”

“Nah.” Gareth shook his head, “Mums can’t have sex.”

“What,” You grinned, “you sayin you wont fuck me once I’ve been knocked up?”

“That’s different.” He shoved your face.

“You guys are so weird.” Jeff fell backwards into Grant’s arms and Grant kissed his neck…

Oh yeah. That was something else that had happened in the past few months. Jeff and Grant had come out to you guys, saying they had been dating for like… a year. You were just confused as to how you had gone so long without noticing.

“You guys are weird.” You poked your tongue out at them.

“Nahahh. You are.” Grant added.

“You are.” Gareth chimed in, crawling over to them to tackle.

You all ended up in a pile, wrestling each other and calling eachother names and laughing, all high out of your goddamned minds. By the time you got really tired, you were laying splayed out like a starfish on the pullout, and Gareth was entirely on top of you, acting as your blanket because his weighted blanket wasn’t heavy enough. Jeff and Grant were cuddled up, already falling asleep on the mattress on the floor.

Gareth nudged his nose past your ear so he could kiss your cheek, right by the corner of your lips, “I love you, darling. Merry Christmas.”

“I love you too, Garebear.”

“I can’t wait for tomorrow morning. I got you-”

“Guys. Can we not do this again, please?” Grant whined.

“Fuck off.” You muttered.

“You fuck off.” Jeff quipped back.

“We get it, you're in love, yadda yadda. So are we, we're not being sappy.”

“Be sappy then.” Gareth wrapped his arms around you tighter, “I wanna tell my girl I love her.”

You giggled, “I wanna hear him say it.”

“Jesus.” Grant rolled his eyes.

“Please, save it for tomorrow.” Jeff huffed with a smile, “It’s too late.”

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ashes-writing · 2 years

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burnin for you pt three | stranger things ; g.emerson

A/N ; I told you guys I love this idiot and I have officially kinda adopted his grumpy ass as one of my own damn it, but anyway... and I wanted to write this for him and all that jazz. Welp, here we kinda have me getting a late night idea about 'stupidest' nicknames that reader and Gareth could call each other -and of course, how to give reader at least one friend that's not hellfire / corroded coffin and a girl so she can do her girly shit and not seem so flat or tragic for me while also exploring reader's home issues and such and inserting ANGST, so here we freakin go.

I shit you not, when the idea for their nicknames came I died laughing. If you guys don't like them, oops? I guess just sub in your own chosen nickname? Look, I'm still working on making the switch from writing OC characters to doing x reader so uh.. I'm trying, lol. [ BTW, i'm gonna attempt to revisit or update the ones for Tommy and Billy, I just.. haven't thought of a way to do it yet. ]

Huuuge huge thanks for all the feedback, oh my god, y'all have been making my days so bright with the comments and the tags and the reblogs and the likes bc I dead ass did not think anybody would read anything I put out bc I am gremlin.. You have no idea how much it truly means to me and I thank you so so so so so much, mwah!

- Ashes

Pairing ; Gareth Emerson x sweet!girly!rich reader [ we're officially calling them pastels and plaid. ]

Timeline / Other Stuff to Note ; pt I | pt II pt III part IIII can be found here those can and should be read first, then this one.. first of all. Gareth has been aged up to 18 before anybody says a word. I'm putting that out there now. So there's no question about it. This is set in 86 BUT BUT.. the upside down, vecna and all the other stuff that goes along with is not a part of this, it's more of a slice of life thing. So if you're into that... NO DEATHS EITHER BTW.

Tag List ; @allelitesmut @aries-arcade @hcloangcls @heyaitsklaudia @krys-orion @musichealsscars and @scoobiessnacks are the only ones currently on my taglist. If you’d like to be on my taglist for anything I write, including Stranger Things [ here ] add yourself there.

Warnings ; Chrissy -and readers, not so great home lives and her relationship with jason are discussed here so there are some not so nice things (ie, her ED is hinted at here but not really discussed, Jason is an asshole, her mother is verbally abusive and readers parents are just plain neglectful killjoy types who alternate between never being around and purposely taking away things that make reader happy if she's not 'good enough' at them) so before I go any further, that's mentioned heavily in the beginning. It's not that graphic but it is there. Mentions of the devils lettuce + the boys doing a smoking circle after jamming in Jeff's garage, lots of internal pining and the angst that goes with it, use of nicknames/petnames (bunny and meatball, my mind at 2 am, babes i s2g) and that's it.

Other Stuff ; tag list doc || my rules - fandoms and some characters I write for || - send me things.

I do not consent to my work being reposted elsewhere or copied/reworked/rewritten and reposted here or elsewhere. You don't own this, I do. So like... don't steal my shit.

You couldn’t sleep. The house was too quiet and your mind was way too noisy. There’s a park just down the street that you’ve been going out to the swingsets to sit on nights like this. It’s normally empty because this is the gated neighborhood and most of the people in it are usually asleep, so as you make your way down dimly lit streets towards the park, you’re surprised to learn that’s not the case tonight.

Chrissy Cunningham is sitting on the jungle gym, Leaned back with all her weight on her palms, her head tilted back as she gazes at the sky. Remembering she’s one of them, you’re about to turn and make your way back up the street but she spots you and jogs over.

“Wait. Don’t go… Please?”

You eye her warily, a hand on your hip. You start to turn and just walk away anyway because looking at her only brings back the way Brook, the queen bee at your old school confronted you in front of everyone at your old school to tear you down and humiliate you and ruin everything, but you happen to see the red in Chrissy’s eyes.

You try to tell yourself she’s probably high, everybody in your old clique at the boarding school you were in before life -and shitty, neglectful parents, landed you in Hawkins in the big lonely house on the end of the street. But something about that thought doesn’t fit. Then you remember hearing her mother shouting earlier, halfway up the block.

What’s more is you heard her over your father’s true pride and joy, a top dollar home theater system. That wasn’t on low volume by any means because you were trying to drive out the tomb-like silence.

You rub the bridge of your nose and it’s what she says next that sways you into sticking around. “Please don’t go. I…I won’t annoy you and this isn’t a trick, okay? I just... I want someone to talk to right now. Please?”

You take a deep breath. “Fine.” you finally respond. The two of you make your way back over to the jungle gym she’d previously been sitting on and for about ten minutes, you’re both just sitting in complete silence.

“The freaks..” Chrissy starts and you cut her off. “They’re not freaks.” you assert calmly, giving her a warning look. “They’re my friends. I think they are, I dunno...” you go quiet and your words trail off as you look down at the manicure you’d given yourself that afternoon while watching General Hospital and babysitting the two youngest Sinclair girls. You’d done the two girls nails to match, of course.

“Sorry, it’s just…” Chrissy swallows hard, swinging bare feet around, her feet making a soft thud when the heels of them met the wood plank behind them. “That’s what everyone around here calls them. It’s a bad habit and I hate it.”

“Then don’t do it. Y’know, you do have the power to change things.” you say it with a quiet laugh and you immediately apologize. “Don’t take my advice. Trust me.” you add a few seconds later. “Because I tried to change things at the boarding school I was at before… Only ended with me getting fucked over.”

Chrissy cringes and looks at you in concern, but closer up, you’re thinking to yourself that if anyone needs a concerned look right now, it’s her. You start to ask her if she’s eaten because everything about the way her face just looks so damn tired makes you think about Elaine from your old school. Before you can stop yourself and remind yourself that Chrissy is one of them and they’re not to be trusted under any circumstance, you’ve asked the question. “Are you okay?”

“The whole neighborhood heard it.” Chrissy mumbles softly. “I thought just this once she’d be proud of me,y’know?” she’s wiping at her eyes and you tense a little because all you wanted to do when you left your house was come down and sit in silence to look up at the stars.

Try to quiet your own noisy mind and all the doubts and fears in it for just a little while. Try to stop yourself from calling Gareth at fuck all o’clock because he’s the only one you sort of trust and you just needed to hear his voice because you’re determined not to give anybody - a friend, your parents, a boy, that much of a hold on you again.

Instead of admitting that you heard it because that feels like the wrong thing to do somehow, you shrug. “I was watching some stupid show.” you mumble quietly. It’s not a complete lie, you were watching tv when it happened. You just omit the fact that you heard her mother lashing out at both her and her father over the volume level of said television show.

She looks a little relieved that maybe one person didn’t hear her mother lashing out. You manage a weak smile and repeat your earlier question because to an extent, she hasn’t fully answered it. She looks down at her bare feet and shakes her head. “I hate being me.”

And you feel that in your bones. But you don’t say anything. She laughs and it’s a quiet and almost bitter sound. “I mean, perfect boyfriend, perfect grades, perfect body… You’d think I’d be happy…Right?” she shakes her head and mutters a quiet, “Forget it.”

“No,no.” you reach out for her wrist when she goes to leave. “Finish what you were going to say. It’s not like I’m gonna sleep tonight anyway.” with a mild shrug.

“Your parents too?” she asks and the question is almost hopefully phrased as she searches your eyes. You bite your lip and shrug. “Lack thereof, actually. They won’t be back from their little business trip until December, if they even come back. According to my father, they’re in talks to merge with some other entertainment business and go in together to open some nightclub or something. They could be gone a year or something, I really don't know..” you laugh quietly.

“Wasn’t your father talking to the mayor about re-visiting the whole idea to buy out the mall?”

“Yeah, he was. Then he got this offer and decided to go with it. Mayor Kline didn’t want to negotiate, something about the current owners of the mall had a better idea.” you shrug, rolling your eyes.

“So you’re there alone?”

“There’s a cleaning lady that comes in twice a week. It’s not like it’s a big deal.” you shrug it off. It is a big deal but you’re so used to the endless parade of service people in and out and the absence of your actual parents that now you just get numb because there’s no hope left.

“We weren’t talking about me, Chrissy.” you mumble after the silence gets just a little too thick. She sighs. “I hate him. I hate him and I hate my mother. But I still love her and I want her to be proud of me just once so I do everything I can…”

You gaze at her and nod. “Listen, this is your life. Fuck them.”

She manages a nervous smile. Twists a strand of strawberry blonde around her finger. “I wish it were that easy.”

“This is gonna sound selfish but trust me.. Or don’t, whatever.” you’re swinging your feet as you look up at the moon and stars overhead. After a second or two to pause and think about how best to word it, you decide to just say it. “Has that idiot Jason Carver ever done anything good or helpful for you?” you gaze at her.

“Well, no but–”

You shake your head. “No buts. Him ‘making you popular’ or whatever bullshit you were about to say is not important, it doesn’t count.” you laugh quietly. The more you sit and talk to her on the jungle gym in the middle of the night, the more you’re confronted with just how much alike you both are.

You don’t like that, it doesn’t sit well.

This in turn, leads you to sort of think that maybe it’s time you follow the advice you’re giving her. Or try harder to.

“Okay, what about your mother? When’s the last time she actually gave a shit?”

Chrissy’s mouth opens and closes and she’s in deep thought. You shrug mildly. “Do what makes you happy. To hell with your mother definitely, Hawkins High student body and especially that piece of shit Jason Carver.”

“Why are you telling me this? I..” she trails off, laughing softly. “I thought you hated us.”

No sense in deluding the poor girl, you respond quietly, “Most of you, yeah. I wouldn’t spare a drop of pee if most of you were on fire..” you gaze at her thoughtfully. “Maybe you’re different. Maybe it’s not too late for you.” and as you say this, you focus all your energy into it because if it’s not too late for her this means it’s not too late for you.

She manages a weak smile. “Maybe.”

“What does make you happy, hm?”

Chrissy giggles quietly. “There’s this boy.” she starts and instantly, you get the feeling you might possibly not want to hear the rest because if it all centers around a boy -because right now, god that sounds just way too close to home and you’re definitely not in the state of mind to deal with that just yet, it’s probably gonna be an awful disaster for her.

“No, I meant like.. Hobbies?” you clarify what you meant.

“Cheerleading. That really does make me happy. It’s the only thing that keeps me hanging on.”

Like your ballet. That your parents took you out of to put you in boarding school so they could jet around god knows where and do anything but be parents. Your mother claims to this day that she was doing it for your own good because you weren’t good enough and she was saving you from pain later, but you honestly didn’t care if you were any good or not, you just loved to dance. You loved the structure and the discipline because it was something nobody gave a shit about you enough to give to you at home.

Besides the one nanny you had when you were 10, the only one who acted like a goddamn parent and didn’t treat you like you were just some kind of little prop when needed. But they took her too because your father said attachments were something that would make you weak.

You nod and you smile a little. Before you stop yourself with the reminder that again, she is one of them and therefore, not to be trusted even a little, you mumble quietly, “Ballet.” and you give a shrug. “I was in classes but my mother decided I wasn’t doing well enough at it to warrant going anymore.”

Chrissy swallows hard and she doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. You mumble an apology because there you go again, making it awkward. “Sorry, I… That should’ve stayed in my head.”

“No, no.. It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

And she doesn’t.

Something she’s thinking about makes her smile just a little and you bite your lip, looking at her. “Okay, out with it. What’s his name?” you decide that maybe it's safer to stick to boys or whatever else you can both think of because this conversation is getting just a shade too heavy right now for you but you want to talk to her, you need to talk to someone.

“Eddie Munson.” Chrissy answers in an almost dreamy and shy tone as she laughs softly. "It feels so good to just say it."

You gape for a second and then you laugh quietly. “Wow. I..” you shake your head, dragging your hand through damp hair, “I was not expecting that.”

“You can’t say anything, alright? Please?” she begs.

You’d never say a word, one, because you dunno if she’s trustworthy or not just yet and two, you know how that feels. To trust somebody with something and then they take it and use it against you somehow, make a total mess of everything.

You rub your forehead.

This entire conversation has been one eye-opener after another.

Some necessary and some, like Chrissy’s confession about having a crush on Eddie Munson, totally shocking. But you feel a little lighter somehow. You come away with the desire to stop letting life run over you repeatedly. To stand up for yourself more. With everyone. To stop giving a shit about anyone who doesn’t give a shit about you.

“I won’t.” you manage a smile and hold up your pinkie despite it being the height of childish. She links her pinkie through and you both laugh quietly.

“Y’know..” you’re not even sure why you’re suggesting it, maybe it’s to save her from Jason Carver turning into a worse man later in life and her being trapped, maybe it’s just for shits and giggles because you cannot, for the life of you picture Eddie, an actual golden retriever idiot, - the thought comes with all the friendly affection you can muster, of course, with her.

“Yeah?”

“Eddie’s a way better person than Jason. Jason’s only going to get worse.”

Chrissy nods. The look in her eyes tells you that this isn’t something she hasn’t thought about a thousand times already. You shrug and lean back against the metal pull bar beside the top of the slide behind you so that you’re actually facing her completely. You laugh a little. “I need to take some of my own advice.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.. that whole fuck them speech? It was aimed at me too.” you admit, going quiet to stare down at the cracks in the wood beneath you. Chrissy laughs softly. “So do it.”

“You first.” you deadpan, sticking out your tongue.

“Okay, what if we both do it?”

“Do you think they’d be able to handle both of us just lighting a match and watching everything and everyone who didn't care enough and we no longer care about burn though?” you ask quietly, kicking your feet again as you admit in a quiet whisper, “Because I’ve got so much anger sometimes I can’t sleep.”

“I know what you mean. Mine isn’t… It’s more pain than anger.”

“Pain turns into anger, you know that, right? But the whole numb thing, that comes first most of the time. Or that’s how it worked for me.”

“Yeah.”

Both of you go quiet again and then she looks at you. “What’s it like?”

“Hm?” you glance up at her.

“Dating Gareth Emerson?”

You laugh softly.

“We’re..” you trail off and lean your head back against the wooden post. “He’s just my friend.”

“But you wish there was more going on… Right?”

You shrug. “A little yes, a little bit I’m too scared to even think about it. I’m a fucking mess, okay? Just like.. Trust me.”

“You don’t seem that bad.”

“Thank you.” you mumble.

“Why don’t you just tell him?” Chrissy is poking the bear because she doesn’t understand why you wouldn’t just tell him. She always sees you two around school. And everybody thinks you’re dating him, especially after the brawl that happened a week or two back between him and Mason Allen. A brawl that Mason Allen hasn’t quite gotten over just yet. The thought reminds her that she was going to warn you to warn Gareth and his friends to watch their backs, so she butts in to say so.

“Hey, you might want to warn Gareth.. And his friends. Mason’s furious because Gareth kicked his butt.”

“Oh he is, huh?” you muse, glancing at her. “Is he planning something?”

“Just says that when he catches him alone, he’s going to get him back.”

You scoff. “Yeah, like hell that’s going to happen. I won’t let it.” you assert.

But really, can you stop it? You weren’t brave enough to stand up for yourself thus creating the mess in the first place. Even as the thought hits you, you know that you’re at least going to try. Whatever it takes. Because you’re not going to let Gareth get dragged into something you should’ve been brave enough to handle on your own.

“I’ll warn him later.” you mumble to yourself. Chrissy circles back to her original question, asking again why you don’t just tell Gareth how you feel. You laugh softly. “You first, sweets. I happen to know Munson would be fuckin thrilled. He’s always watching you.” you give her a slightly warmer grin as you say it.

Chrissy nods and takes a deep breath or two. “It’s not that easy.”

“My point exactly.”

“I thought you were dating Gareth, I mean.. He calls you bunny. And you’re always with him. You’re both always kind of touching each other?” Chrissy points out quietly. You laugh again. “I have not the first clue where Gareth came up with that nickname. I just told him he could call me literally anything but my name because I hate it so much and then he started calling me bunny.” you shrug, laughing again. “Knowing him, it probably has to do with me eating vegetables and fruit. Something off the wall like that.”

“What do you call him?” Chrissy giggles as she asks the question, smiling at you all soft and serene.

“Never to his face and this doesn’t leave us, got it?” you look at her and take a deep breath before bursting into laughter. “Pretty boy. I uh.. Had a real interesting dream a few nights ago when I got a little crazy and raided my mom’s wine and I’m pretty sure I called him daddy a thousand times during that.. But seriously,” you’re staring at your pale pink toenails as you swing your feet back and forth, “I call him meatball most of the time. Because he’s stronger than he looks, meatballs are kind of a comfort food for me and like… I dunno where I was going with that. I called him tiger once and his face went so fucking red, it was the cutest thing…” you double over, laughing at your sap and stupidity.

You cringe a little. “That was way too much information.”

“No, it’s okay. This is nice. Can we?” she fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater while looking down, “Can we do this again sometime? Can I talk to you and stuff at school?”

You laugh and shrug. You don’t expect her to follow through on the talking at school thing, not even slightly, but you smile and nod. “Yeah. Sure. Why not?” you mumble, wondering to yourself the whole time if you’re going to regret it in the long run.

Something tells you maybe this time you won’t.

You haven’t regretted a single second since you made the decision not to get sucked right back in with the type of people you used to be friends with and be like, to an extent.

Chrissy grins brightly at you. You manage a slightly smaller bright grin. “Hey, if you ever need somewhere to go, I’m at the end of the street. The big blue house.” you point out your house to her and she nods. “I’ll probably take you up on that a lot.”

– ( jeff’s garage )

The heavy haze hung in the air and Jeff fanned in front of his face a little as he passes the joint to Grant. Grant took a hit and passes it to Eddie.

Eddie nudges Gareth and Gareth blinks.

“Okay, meatball. Focus, idiot.” Jeff laughs out.

Gareth gives him a dirty look and flips him off. “Fuck off, Jeff.”

“What? I can’t call you that but she can? I thought she wasn’t your girl… Meatball.” Jeff scoots himself away from the circle and lays on the cement slab floor laughing his ass off.

“Of all the nicknames. She picks that one.”Gareth shakes his head, laughing even though sometimes, it is a little annoying. But to be fair, you only started calling him meatball when he started calling you bunny.

And now, it’s become a habit.

“Pretty sure she’ll say the same thing, you call her bunny.” Eddie points it out and this prompts the rest of the little circle to glance at Gareth.

Gareth’s face is on fire and he gives Eddie a death glare. “Dickhole.”

“What? I heard you earlier.” Eddie shrugs.

“Of everything you could call her, man.. Bunny? Seriously?” Jeff questions.

“Why bunny?” Grant asks quietly as he fixes his gaze on Gareth, waiting on an answer.

Gareth laughs and shakes his head, taking a hit of the joint before passing it on to Jeff. He exhales and at first, he tries to just shrug it off without answering.

“You know the rule. Spit it out.” Eddie says it so sternly and with such a shit-eating grin at the same time that they all burst out laughing. “This is the circle, Gare. No secrets.”

“Fuckers.” Gareth grumbles, irritated. “Fine. If any of you says a word, I swear to Ozzy..” he trails off and grins, kicking his sneakers together as he leans back, propping on his hands to gaze up at the ceiling. “It’s that little nose wrinkle, okay? It’s.. It’s so fucking cute and it reminds me of that rabbit my older sister Sarah had. And she’s always kicking her foot against the desk.”

Jeff is laughing harder, so hard that he takes a hit and it nearly doubles him over because he can’t stop laughing and he inhales and nearly chokes himself down on the smoke in the process. “Say what now?” he looks at Gareth.

Gareth shrugs and cringes as he adds in a quieter tone, “And she’s shorter than me, there’s that. Look, she’s small and cute… Like a rabbit. If you assholes say one word, I’m gonna kick your asses, got it?”

“Okay.”

“Fine.”

“Scout’s dishonor.” Eddie taunts, smirking. Gareth leans out to give him a lazy shove. “Especially not you, asshole.” Gareth warns.

“Aw, he really is in love.”

“I’m not, damn it. I’m not.” Gareth insists, glaring at his friends even though he knows it’s a lie deep down. And even though it’s been weeks now and she hasn’t proven his original assumption right yet, he’s still living every single second that he knows you with the worry that eventually, the other shoe is going to drop.

Only now, he’s gone and fucked up, truly. He’s too attached now. So when -not if, because he’s convinced that this is too good to be true and any day now, he’ll wake up and it’ll have been a dream or a figment of his imagination, something, the bad thing does happen, it’s going to crush the guy.

The more he tries to fight it off, the deeper he winds up falling. It’s exciting, it’s terrifying and it’s frustrating as hell, especially lately, with the little nicknames and the way he can’t stop himself from touching you all the damn time.

“Just fucking do something, Gare. If you don’t, it’s going to drive you crazy and you will explode.” Jeff’s outburst has Grant and Eddie nodding in agreement. “The tension’s so fucking thick you’re kind of giving us all blue balls, idiot. Any second now,” Eddie wags his finger at Gareth with a smug look on his face, “You will explode.”

“I will not. It’ll be fine. Look, maybe being her friend is enough, man.”

“Bullshit.” Grant coughs but doesn’t bother covering the word as he does it.

“Yeah, he’s full of shit.” Jeff agrees, laughing as he shakes his head. “You’re full of shit.”

“That’s the biggest load of horse shit.” Eddie exclaims.

“Fuck all of you, alright? Why aren’t we talking about Munson making ga-ga eyes at a certain cheerleader, huh?” Gareth smirks when Eddie flips him off and he moves away from the circle, laughing. “Doesn’t feel so fucking great, does it?” he asks, folding his arms.

“Your situation and mine are totally different, shithead.” Eddie answers, going quiet. “Y’know I can’t tell her anything. She’s one of them.”

“And any day now, my girl could be too, idiot.” Gareth points out quietly.

Jeff shakes his head. “If you were any more stubborn you’d be a goddamn brick wall, Emerson. If she was going anywhere, she’d have done it at least the third or fourth day she was here. No… she’s always with you, with us, dumb fucker. Wake up.”

“I can’t with him, I really just can’t. Says all that and calls her his girl. Makes no sense.” Eddie mumbles, shaking his head too.

“You’re blind and an idiot, Emerson. And I mean that with all the care in the world.” Grant muses, taking a sip of a soda he only just remembers that he’d grabbed from Jeff’s kitchen earlier.

“As I said just a second ago, fuck all of you.” Gareth flips off his friends as he stands. “I’ll see you assholes tomorrow. Gotta get home.”

And as he’s leaving, his friends' opinions just won’t get out of his head. No amount of shoving them down will help, either because he’s starting to realize, even now, that they’re all right. Sooner or later -probably sooner, just being your friend isn’t going to be enough. It’s already starting, truth be told.

But the poor guy has not the first clue what to do to move things one way or another.

#gareth emerson #gareth emerson imagine #gareth emerson fanfiction #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth the great #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader #gareth emerson x reader fanfiction #gareth emerson x fem!reader fanfiction #/// read the warnings on the top of the post #// i still fucking cant with myself and the nicknames.#// if you're wondering writer totally was not watching a pam and tommy series tribute vid when it struck.#// no no not i never.

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belokhvostikova · 8 months

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𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Perhaps the karma gods of the world were just as perverted as Hawkins’ residential Freak, Eddie Munson, himself, as the perfect opportunity to lay his hands on you arose when you go searching for helpless students to tutor.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, brief mentions of religion, naivety, feelings of embarrassment, perversion, and explicit sexual content: fondling, minimal spanking, mentions of virginity, mentions of female masturbation, male masturbation, tiny praise kink, stuffed animal humping, clit rubbing, handjob, oral (both receiving), corruption kink, cum eating and dubcon (just precautionary).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I tried to be gross! Sorry it took so long. It's quite hard writing about a plotline that doesn't pertain to Eddie being mad at us for taking his picture and putting it in the yearbook (my series, you should read it). I'm trying to get into the groove of writing, so I apologize in advance if this is literal butt cheeks, I tried. Also, you will be getting an unwarranted history lesson.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

“…Man, I told Jeff that my mom would get pissed off if he left his beer cans in the garage, and he was all like, “Nah, dude, I promise I’ll pick ‘em up,” and he didn’t! Of course, he didn’t…”

In retrospect, tuning out the complaints of Gareth Emerson may not have been the smartest moves, as Corroded Coffin had just lost their only space to freely practice. You know, where they wouldn’t get dirty looks and threats of the police for public disturbance. And surely, as lead guitarist and singer of such an aspiring band, Eddie Munson would have been fully engrossed at the sudden mention of the deterrence into their path to wealth, fame, and glory… right? No. Because this is Eddie Munson we’re talking about here. And behind that domineering rockstar facade of leather jackets, clinking chains, gaudy jewelry, and a tight- tight pair of denim pants, yes, behind those pair of pants was a pulsating cock that was desperate to grow twice its softened size just two minutes and twenty-three seconds before he had to face Mrs. Wither’s biology class, all because Eddie Munson saw you.

Why- why on God’s green Earth would he ever choose to listen to the cracking voice of Gareth Emerson, when you were literally standing right across the hall, not even four yards away? The skirt. The fucking teeny tiny, baby pink, short skirt you decided to wear, the one Eddie was sure that if you bent forward even just a little bit, he would be flashed with the sexy crease of your fat ass cheeks meeting your doughy thighs, and he was desperate to be smothered by it.

“…So yeah, we can’t practice at my house anymore.” Gareth lamented. That’s when he noticed the oh so obvious, blatantly clear, totally discernable trance of his friend, realizing his entire tangent just deliquesced into thin air with no acknowledgement whatsoever. Gareth slammed his locker shut. “You weren’t even listening to me!”

Eddie’s eyes finally shot away at the bleated tone of Gareth’s rightful attitude. “‘Scuse me? I totally was listening.” He hissed back, evidently not amused with the embarrassing fact that he was caught red-handed.

“No, you weren’t.” Gareth groused, looking back to follow the ghost trail that once was Eddie’s distracted eye line, which is when he landed on you. “You were just checking out that girl.”

“That girl has a name, y’know?” Eddie retorted.

“That girl isn’t going to help us find a place to practice!” Gareth retaliated. “Stop looking for chicks to score, I’m serious.”

“Hey,” Eddie perked, as he stood straight, countering his friend, “y’know, she’s actually really smart and, like, super fucking funny-”

His friend could only incredulously scoff. “Oh, right, because you’ve totally had a conversation with her.”

“I-I’ve… stood next to her a-and have heard her talk to her friends.” Definitely not the riposte Eddie hoped to shoot out. The stuttering sure as hell didn’t help.

“Oh, so you’re a stalker.” Gareth nonchalantly derided, leaving Eddie to deadpan him. “Look, whatever, man, you can perv on girls all you want, but we have bigger issues at hand, dude. Where the hell are we supposed to practice?” Eddie’s chest ended up being victimized by the harsh poke of Gareth’s stern finger. And if he wasn’t so annoyed with his friend, he would have winced, because that actually kinda hurt a little. But just a little. Eddie’s ego wasn’t about to take a hit today.

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Relax, alright? We’ll work our way around it.”

Truthfully, Eddie had no actual plans of working their way around it, in fact, it was quite a large issue he should have prioritized, but that could wait. Should it? No. But it would. Yes. Surely, staring at you was more of a fun game. He’d done that for the past two years he’d known of you, and he never got tired of it, I mean, how could he? One day—he always chalked up—he would get the balls to actually speak to you. You were always so nice, so sweet, skirting around the halls of Hawkins High that Eddie felt were too unworthy for your leisure, smiling and waving at any and everyone. Last Tuesday, the day you met his perverted eyes—oblivious to his hungry stares—and kindly threw him a beguiling smile as if it wasn’t the most dangerous weapon on Earth, was the day Eddie Munson skipped fourth period and jerked his aching cock in the dingy stall of the boys’ bathroom, before speeding home to fold his pillow in half and slide himself into the makeshift pussy just to fuck it with screwed shut eyes to invision the perfect image of you laying on your back with bouncing tits.

But unfortunately, that was just a dream Eddie Munson would have to deduce himself into every night, because the reality of you ever actually speaking to him was tragically low. Mostly because Eddie was scared he’d stutter and fuck up in front of you. It was embarrassingly shameful when it occurred in the comfort of his own bedroom, as he acted out what he would say to you in the mirror. You literally weren’t even there and he still tripped over his words!

But maybe the karma gods were finally aligning with his life, because he watched you happily place a “Need a Tutor?” sign on the bulletin board of the main hall, with little slips of your phone number ready to tear off and grab for anyone needing some “intimate one-on-one session time.” And, my god, was Eddie Munson anguished for that, so when the pink thumbtack stabbed your preciously designed poster into the cluttered corkboard, and you walked away with a innocent smile that was ready to help anyone in need, Eddie could hear an angel receiving its wings in the distance, as a harp played, and a choir harmonized heavenly, because his mind was stirring with the endless possibilities of raunchy and crude wet dreams. And Eddie was finally receiving a chance to dive into some pussy galore. Gross.

“Oh, yeah, and how exactly do you plan on doing that? My drum kit can’t fit in your trailer, Grant’s grandma nearly had a heart attack the last time we practiced at his place, and Jeff’s mom still thinks it’s the “devil's music,” so what exactly is your plan here, hotshot?” Gareth scoffed.

“My plan?” Eddie chimed with a menacing smirk. “Oh, well I plan on getting tutored by my future wife.” He slyly leered, as he sauntered his away to your advertisement, Gareth following behind feeling beyond the definitions of vexation.

“You’re actually insane, y’know that?” Gareth exhaled, as he watched Eddie eagerly tear off a slip and examine it with a prodding tongue through his lips. “This says for anyone needing a tutor in history.” Gareth pointed out.

Eddie shrugged, as your number slipped into the back pocket of his jeans. “So?”

“You’re not even taking history!” Gareth stressed, as the bell rang to commence class. “What are you gonna do when you show up completely clueless?”

“Dude, she’s looking for idiots to tutor,” Eddie patted him on the shoulder, “she’s expecting cluelessness. And I am the perfect guy. Kay?” He triumphantly smiled. “Stop stressing, go to class. And don’t worry, I’ll send you an invitation to our wedding. Thinkin’ of making it BDSM theme.”

Gareth grimaced.

Eddie Munson may not have caught onto the obvious insult he just hurled to himself, but that didn’t matter. Not when he had a call to make after school.

The ticking minutes of the afternoon couldn’t have passed by any slower, as Eddie managed to work up every excuse in the book to get his uncle, Wayne, to leave early for work: grab some lunch at Benny’s before hand, stop for some coffee at the local cafe, show up an hour early to impress the bosses—though, the bosses didn’t pay Wayne enough for him to feel the need to turn up before his scheduled shift—and soon the minutes turned into hours, and the sun would be setting soon. Eddie could feel you slipping through his grasp, as someone who probably actually needed a tutor was bound to call you before he could- or worse, some sick perv with the same bright idea as him would call you. Though Eddie Munson was adamant on the fact that none of the other guys who creeped on you could take care of you like he could.

Sure, the only experience he ever had was when the older bartender with bouncy hair offered to show the lead singer of Corroded Coffin a “special thank you,” which promptly led him to losing his virginity in the loathsome bathroom of the Hideout, which also led to a frantic eighteen-year-old Eddie anxiously running to the local health clinic for STDs testing when it dawned on him that he just had unprotected sex with a stranger during the dangerous minutes of post-nut clarity. But, Eddie Munson was still a hormonal teenager, and once the negative results cleared him from the nerve-wracking chlamydia or gonorrhea scare, he laid back and relished on the memory of having sex and, well, by the sounds of it—if his memory serves him right—she seemed to enjoy it, too. Granted, Eddie never engaged in any more of her efforts to try again because- well, he was left scarred, but all that is beyond the point. The point is Eddie Munson wanted to be the one to love on you, dote on you, make you feel so fucking good that you were programmatically addicted to him- to his cock.

Oh, fuck, he’s hard already.

But finally, as the clock struck six o’clock, his uncle waved him goodbye, and Eddie had ran through the numerous piles of clothes in the trailer—ones he promised to fold—and slammed into the wall phone to begin his endeavors. The crumpled slip of your phone number had been retrieved from his back pocket, and he skimmed the digits, letting his fingers dial as he read each number. It was nowhere near remotely possible, but Eddie Munson had even managed to find your phone number to be so sexy. Mm, so even and divisible. God, he was sick. But nonetheless, the phone rang and rang, and he was muttering the “c’mon, pick up, pick up” mantra to lead him one step closer to you. Communicating through a phone would surely ease his worries about potentially screwing up. He just had to take a deep breath and let the conversation flow itself. But, shit, it was ringing for far too long. You were probably already knees deep into some boring textbook with a helpless classmate, or getting flirted by Nathan Cavanugh, who Eddie once saw check you out; or you were probably cuddling up with Bryce Walters, who would always lean against your locker to sweet talk you during school; or, fuck, you could have already been getting handsy with Harrison Moran, who would always come up and hug you after a footba-

“Hello?” Oh, shit.

“Oh- I mean, uh, hi.” This wasn’t going to work. He was already slipping up. Eddie had never internally cringed so hard, his hand pragmatically slapped his forehead in disbelief, but his mouth just kept moving. “It’s, um, me.” Me?! How the fuck would you know who me is?!

“Oh, my god, hi, Eddie!” You perked with giddiness. What the fuck?

He stammered with confusion, “Wait… how’d you know it was me- like, me, Eddie?”

“Duh, your voice, silly.” You giggled, as Eddie huffed a breathy chuckle, and leaned against the wall with a curling lip. Maybe this could work.

“Oh, yeah? You recognize my voice, sweetie?” His lit into a teasing, sultry crisp that had you flustered on the other line.

“Well, yeah. I mean, you’re always making quite the scene during lunch.” You delicately laughed into the receiver. “I guess it just kinda got stuck in my head, like, you know, when you hear a catchy song?”

Eddie sucked in a breath, as his hand played with the hem of his shirt to tease his sensitive naval with soft touches, and you could thoroughly hear the smirk of his grin oozing through his words. “Oh, really?” He teased rhetorically. “Yeah, no, I understand. I can happily say the same for you, sweetheart. Got such a pretty voice.”

“Oh,” you were clearly rattled, as his compliment hit you, “th-thank you, Eddie. You’re so nice.”

“Aw, well, actually, sweetheart, it’s you who’s so nice. Offering others your help with tutoring, just so sweet, aren’t ya, huh? It’s actually why I’m calling.” He smiled. “You wanna… help me out, princess?”

“Yes, I’d love to!” Your bubbly voice made it certain that you were ready to genuinely help him with his studies, and provide him with the needed lessons. It could almost make Eddie feel guilty. Almost. But his dick was thumping with eagerness, and he was containing all restraints to keep from pressing his bulge against the paneling of the wall to your sickly sweet voice, and thrusting his hips. That would be a new low. Even for him. “I’ve been waiting forever for someone to call, Eds, you don’t even understand. I was beginning to think nobody needed a tutor.”

“Oh, no, sweet girl, I can assure you I desperately need a helping hand.” He sighed, as the rings on his finger began dancing around the protrusion of his pants, applying just a small amount of pressure. “And I’d fucking love yours.” Your innocent mind absolutely swooned at the opportunity to aid his learning, completely unbeknownst to Eddie’s perverted meaning.

“That’s great, I’d love to help you, Eddie.” You gushed, and Eddie’s teeth had to bite down onto his lip to uphold the self-control of being so desperate he was debating dry humping the wall. “Are you able to come over tonight?

“Oh, yeah, baby, I’ll definitely be coming tonight.” As soon as the call would end, Eddie Munson would drop to his knees and repent all the wrongdoings of his life, if it meant this actually working out for him. It’s doesn’t necessarily fall under the codes of Catholicism to exactly pray in front of the random “Bless this house, O Lord we pray, Make it safe by night and day” calendar with the hopes of finally having sex with his high school crush, but Eddie wasn’t exactly the type to carry around his own crucifix for an impromptu prayer, and he was truly just really fucking horny for you. And he was also smart enough to know his luck. If his life taught him anything, you would actually say that plans came up and you would be too busy to tutor him, and just like that, his opportunity would have disintegrated into dust. Now, while the possibility of that occurring was plausible, it genuinely should not have garnered him the idea to suddenly believe in divine interference and pray to a calendar that he’d get laid, but Eddie Munson did it anyway. Because you had him that fucking forlorn.

“How does seven-thirty sound? You can come over then, does that work for you?” You were already planning the layout for your study session, when all Eddie could think about was caressing your figure.

“Absolutely.” He affirmed with a tight breath when his teeth bloodied his lip.

“Great, I’ll see you then, Eddie- oh, wait, before you go, do you like cookies? I can make us some as a snack.” God, you really were so fucking sweet.

“Shit,” Eddie mumbled under his breath, “cookies? Yeah, I like cookies, sweetheart. Can’t fucking wait to taste them.”

“Okay, good, I’ll gladly make you some!” You cheered with excitement. “I’ll see you soon!”

Attending high school for six years would surely be more than enough time to, I don’t know, memorize at least one thing about the many lessons Eddie had to endure—science, math, hell, even construction—but nothing cemented into his mind more clearly than the address you’d given him- the address he’d fuck you at… hopefully. God, he could already picture it so vividly. Your pink room of frills and silk. The room where you study. Where you sleep. Where you change. Where you lick your fingers and snake your hand under the lace of your panties to rub your pussy to the thought of being fucked-

Oh, how the hell was he ever going to survive being in your house?

Eddie Munson had stared about the likes of your neighborhood for a good five minutes, finding the audacity to suddenly play undercover detective as a means of “scoping out the scene” to ensure the sanctity of his sexual endeavors. Perhaps the karma gods were desperate to get this twenty-year-old man laid—they had to be tired of the countless prayers for pussy that flooded their heavenly inbox—as Mrs. Winthrop, the forty-something-year-old lady of fancy tracksuits and shiny pearls who loved to patrol the regulations of the HOA, was, fortunately, accompanying her newlywed seventy-something-year-old husband at the City Hall’s Annual Fundraiser Banquet. Had she decided to not meddle into the world of small town aristocrats to weasel her way into her elderly husband’s will, she would have surely caught wind of Eddie Munson’s suspicious activity, and had your house flooded with flashing reds and blues as he sat in the backseat of a police car; hands in cuffs and boner in boxers.

But Mrs. Winthrop hadn’t been home. And Eddie had deliberated the risk of a possible wandering neighbor catching a glimpse of his dubious acts, and taken it, because in doing so, he was met with the glory of an empty driveway to your home. Where a car—like the silver sedan he learned your mother drove to drop you off to school or the black truck he learned your father drove to pick you up from school—was typically parked had been abandoned to an emptiness, leaving the cemented path to your garage exposed. And peering just a little to the left, he would come face-to-face with the familiar fateful sentiment of that of an empty driveway: an empty curb.

Long gone were the risks of parental interference.

Eddie Munson was fucking you tonight.

Your doorbell had diffused into quietness. Hidden behind the denim pockets of his jacket, his fists balled tightly, as his mind ran through the notions of how he would manifest this to occur. Worst case scenario, you’d reject his advances… possibly realize his agenda… might call him a freak… definitely a perv… probably slap him in the face, he would deserve it… you could tell the whole school… it would surely spread across town… then the torches and pitchforks would come out- yeah, okay, he should really stop overthinking right about now. But then there were the other thoughts. The thoughts- the debauched thoughts that filled his head of just you and your body completely at his mercy. Best case scenario, you’d fall into his arms… he’d shove his hot tongue down your throat- ooh, better yet, his cock… he’d certainly grope the fattiness of your ass… might tug on your nipples with his teeth… spit on your clit… fuck, then undoubtedly plunge his cock into your cunt until it was drowning in his sticky cum. There was only so much space behind the seam of his zipper before his growing dick would burst through.

The ten seconds of impending footsteps held no merit of preparation for Eddie Munson to secure the steady breath of cool, calm, and collected like he wanted to. He was supposed to up his bravado, put on that bad boy demeanor he knew to flaunt while strutting the streets of Hakwins, Indiana to ensure his character was never physically targeted by the clear disdain the town held for him. And it worked. Never once had it failed to be intimidating. In fact, that very intimidation that was going to be his reliable source of timidly scaring you tino pulling up the soft cotton of your top to flash him the bouncing volume of your boobs for him to pervertedly grab. If it had to get that far.

But that was all too easy.

And Eddie Munson hadn’t accounted for the fact that his breath would hitch at mere sight of you beaconing him into your humble home with a peachy “Hi, Eddie” and that sinful skirt that seemed to love your body just as much as he did from the way it clung to your dips and curves.

“H-Hi, sweetness.” His lips hungry rolled against themselves, as his eyes raked your silhouette upon entering the foyer of your house. “I, uh, I didn’t see anyone in the driveway. C-Can I assume we’re, um, alone?” Eddie shyly smiled.

You were there to kindly answer. “Oh, yeah! My parents drove out of town to attend a familiar friend’s wedding.” See, this is where an attempt at a nice conversation could have occurred, had you not daintily secured your hands together behind your back with pristine posture. With your puffed chest, Eddie’s eyes had absentmindedly diverted to the now pebbling outline of your nipples that seemingly hardened from the draft Eddie had brought in. Heaven truly was a place on Earth- or whatever the hell that Belinda chick sang about. “I hope that’s alright.” You giggled.

“Huh…?”

“I mean, I’m definitely nowhere near as good a cook as my mom, but I made those cookies for you as a treat, and I hope you’ll like them.” You bit your lip. “But, um, if you’re still hungry, we can totally order something for dinner.”

Eddie didn’t know what was louder, the beating in his heart or his cock. Either way, it was blatantly obvious the effect you had on him, and his body was desperately lurching for yours. “Oh, yeah, no, uh, no worries. I-I, um- sorry, I’m just a bit… nervous.” He shied away with a teasing grin.

What more could be expected? Out of the kindness of your heart, your face contorted with concern. “Oh, please don’t be nervous!” You held a soft grip to his bicep, pulling him close. Hook. “I know it can be a little scary being tutored, but I promise you’re totally in control here.” And reel. “We’ll go at your pace. I’m here to help you, remember?” You’d be doting on him the whole night.

If intimidation wasn’t going to get him to see your pussy tonight, maybe the kicked puppy act will.

A sickening smirk consumed his face, and his hand flew over his heart. “Aren’t you just the sweetest? Got the prettiest heart and face in this town, huh?”

Oh, and how that compliment had you flustering in his grace, looking away with a breaking smile of demure. Being tutored may not have been the most conventional way of getting laid, but the favor was working on his side, and Eddie was loving his ingenious idea of stealing your advertising slip. “I- well, um, thank you, Eddie.” You smiled, attempting to meet his eyes again. “You know, you’re really nice, too. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Donna.”

“Donna?” That crank with a stick up her ass, who seemingly tried to control every little thing you did? That Donna?!

Now, say all you want about the morality of following around someone you love, but don’t misconstrued things here, Eddie Munson was not a stalker. Nope. Nuh-uh. Sure, he liked to linger around you, who wouldn’t? And, while, yes, oftentimes- no, all the times, you didn’t know of his presence, but still, it wasn’t stalking. He was just learning things about you. Yeah, learning things. Learning the make and model of your parents’ vehicles. Learning your class schedule in hopes of catching glimpses of you in the hallways. Learning about your favorite subjects and what you hated. Learning the acts that guys did that made your face scrunch up with disgust. And yes, learning about Donna fucking McIntyre, who did seem to catch on to his stalking presence- no, linger presence (totally not a stalker).

In the many instances Eddie stood close enough to eavesdrop on your conversations, he’d grown quite a distaste for Donna McIntyre. Actually, it’d do no justice to deduce his hatred as “distaste.” Eddie Munson fucking hated Donna McIntyre. Listening to her speak was like shoving a knife through his eardrum. He’d only endure it if it meant hearing your honey voice and learning more about you. This particular disdain for your close friend hadn’t appeared from thin air, no, Eddie Munson had complete reasons to hate the ginger; Donna McIntyre had sensibility. Where your naivety had you blissfully unaware of Eddie’s hungry stare, Donna McIntyre had caught onto every one of his perversions. Call it bias, he didn’t care, he hated her. In hindsight, your two year friendship with her had truly saved you from some compromising situations in which creepy men bestowed themselves upon you. Donna McIntyre was there to save you. Leave no girl behind. And you loved her for it.

Eddie Munson, on the other hand, despised her for it.

A daily routine had manifested itself between the two rivals. One where Eddie would lovingly stare at your perched breasts spewing from your low-cut top, only to accidentally make eye contact with Donna during his spare seconds of eyeing you, being met with one of the most—rightfully—disgusted stares from her. He was left scoffing every time she grappled onto your elbow and pulled you away wherever you stepped within his vicinity.

“Yeah.” You sorely pouted. “See, she’s, like, my best friend ever, but she always says the nastiest things about you.”

“Like what?” He questioned with squinted eyes.

“Well, I don’t want to say the mean names she calls you, but she always mentions how I need to stay away from you; something about you being bad news.” You huffed. “I mean, literally before you came here, I called her all excited that I was finally tutoring someone tonight, because it looks really good on college applications, you know? But when I told her it was you, she completely lost it, saying you were just taking advantage of me.” Fucking divine interference?!

Eddie Munson had to give it to her. She may have been a pain in the ass, but Donna McIntyre was smart.

“Uh, well, y’know, princess, some people are just downright rude.” He dejectedly suspired. “People have been pickin’ on me since I was a child, y’know? Just because I’m different.” Maybe the bruised kid was taking it a little too far, but a special place in hell was already being dedicated to Eddie Munson, with a fiery plaque being engraved with the devil’s sharp talon, so did he care? No. Not when his sob story had you jumping to console him with a sympathizing hug, one where your tits squished against his chest, and he reveled in the feeling of your poking nipples brushing against his body.

A more than content hum groaned out of Eddie’s mouth, as he wrapped you close, and inhaled a waft of your perfect smell. “I’m so sorry, Eds.” Your heart of gold oozed out with all sadness for him.

“It’s okay, baby-”

“No, it’s not.” You pulled back to pout at him. “People shouldn’t treat you like that. It’s mean. People shouldn’t be mean to you.” Eddie cooed, copying your protruding lips, and sighed happily at your word of action. “You have me as a friend now! And I promise that I’ll never be mean to you. I just want to be nice to you. All the time, be nice to you.”

There’s no way you couldn’t feel his boner pressing into your tummy. “Aw, precious, I’d really like that. You’ll be nice to me? Do anything for me? Make me feel good?”

The quickness to your fervent nod had a sickening grin formulating on Eddie’s expression. “Yes, of course! Always, that’s what friends do.” You smiled. In a flash, you acted on impulse and pressed your lips to his cheek, where your gloss had marked his skin and burned his body. Witnessing you shyly smile at him afterwards had his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. “I just wanna help you out.” You whispered.

“You can definitely help me, princess.” He spoke in hushed tones. “Y’know how you can help me?” His face gravitated to yours, target of interest aiming for your lips.

And you looked at him with those innocent, round eyes. “Tutoring you!” You beamed, like you just answered the million dollar question on a game show- well, not Eddie’s preferred game show.

“Oh,” he cleared his throat with a forced laugh to keep you smiling, “yes, of course, sweetheart, tutoring me. That’s the only reason I came here, anyway.” He internally perished.

You squealed in excitement, jumping from the giddiness of being helpful. “Yay!” You beamed, forcing Eddie to follow suit, his faux enthusiasm compelling him to swallow thickly in order to constrain the blood back to his brain if he was going to sit through a tutoring lesson before seeing your ass in whatever baby pink thong he pictured you wearing. You laced your hand within his—being his only saving grace for enduring schoolwork after hours—and tugged him into the coziness of your living room. “So, are you taking American History or World History?”

“Uh…” Two years ago, Wayne Munson urged his nephew to exercise his newfound 26th Amendment Right to vote at the ripe age of eighteen for the 1984 Presidential Election. Granted, not so much newfound, given that Eddie was still falling off of monkey bars when protests about the monstrosity of what was going on Vietnam managed to lower the voting age; but nonetheless, Eddie had gotten severely tired of being bombarded by Reagan signs that infested every neighborhood street he drove past, enabling him to proudly wear Hawkins’ very own rendition of the ‘I Voted’ sticker. Though, the excitement was short lived, when the Munsons gruffed in disappointment watching Ronald Reagan win his reelection and haunt their lives for another four years to come. Eddie Munson didn’t know what the hell was going on with the world fifty years ago, but the CBS Morning News was raving about the wave of the conservative movement, talks of Gorbachev meeting Reagan was happening, something called the internet was kinda freaking him out, and Eddie Munson voted, so how’s that for American history for you?

“American- yeah, yeah, American History.”

“Perfect!” He followed your movements, and joined you on the couch, textbooks and cookies laid out in uniform perfection against the wood of your coffee table. Just for him. “With Mr. Conklin? Or Mendez?”

“Mendez.” At least, he did when he was still a junior and vandalizing the back desk with engravings of immature pornographic sketches.

“Oh! Donna’s also in that class.” Eye fucking roll. “She told me about that killer quiz you guys had today. Said something about how none of the questions were on the study guide that Mr. Mendez gave to y’all.”

Eddie drawed out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, yeah.” He lied right through his teeth. “I-It’s why I came to you, sweetheart! I completely flunked that quiz, and- well, then, you- you were just like this angel sent from heaven, offering your help.” He grinned watching you heat up from his heavy stare. “Just meant to be, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Your nerves flustered, as your teeth bit into your lip. “I’m happy to help you, Eds. Anytime you need.” You could feel his breath fanning across your cheeks. “Um, did you, uh, bring your books?” Actually getting a good look at him, Eddie hadn’t brought anything. At all. “Or, um, at least… some notes?”

A whistle of slow realization escaped Eddie’s mouth. “Uh… oh, y’know what happened? See, I was just spiraling from the quiz, a-and then I got so nervous for our tutoring lesson that, y’know, it just completely slipped my mind. I’m sorry, princess.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay.” A sweet reassurance came from your part. “We can just share my book.” You patted the distant space of cushion between you two, one which Eddie gladly took up.

And, my god, was he happy he did, because thighs touching thighs, scents mixing with scents, body pressed against body, and one look down, Eddie was exposed to the glory of low-cut shirts, and your tits presented themselves so beautifully to his eyesight. But a worn textbook weighing the size of a fat dog had slammed into his lap, and suddenly his eyes were tainted by the image of an old, white man who surely didn’t arouse him like the picture of your boobs.

“Great… Thomas Jefferson.” A tight-lipped smile concealed his dismay.

“Uh,” your shy giggle captivated his attention, “no, Eddie, that’s actually James Monroe.”

“Psh.” He puffed his cheeks, nonchalantly waving his hand in the air to brush off his blatant error of mistake. “Right. Totally knew that, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay if you didn’t.” You smiled. “I’m here to help you, remember?”

“Mhm.” His arm circled around your shoulders, letting your rest back in the comfortable bliss of soft cushions and his presence. He hummed seeing you tuck within yourself, thighs pressing into one another, and he could only imagine what you were trying to relieve. Because Eddie Munson had made you feel things. The sweet tingles you would get when you were alone at night and had all the time to yourself. When you would visualize what it would be like to have a boy like you, enough to want to be your boyfriend, and what you two would get up to. Lacey Fisher, four weeks ago, returned from her weekend birthday trip, and confided in you on how her boyfriend, Henry Aronofsky, took her virginity. She detailed to your curious mind that it had hurt. The initial intrusion, it stung. But then he kept going. And it started to feel good. But what was even better was the closeness. His body on hers. His lips on hers.

You craved that. And having Eddie’s domineering heat radiate on your skin had your pussy pulsating with a thumping tingle that you didn’t know what to do with. Eddie was cute. Cuter than Nathan Cavanugh, Bryce Walters, or Harrison Moran. Eddie Munson had an edge that made you question why your cotton underwear was becoming uncomfortably wet under his stare. How could Donna McIntyre not like him? He was scarily hot.

“W-What,” You cleared your throat, “what, um, period are you guys on… in Mr. Mendez’s class?”

Shit. “Uh…”

“It was period four, no?” You opened the textbook on his lap, flipping the silk pages to thumb through the chapters. “Donna had mentioned it, said she wanted me to help her study this weekend.”

Thank god for Donna McIntyre’s big ass mouth. Even if it did shit-talk him. “Yeah, yeah, period four, mhm.”

“Okay, so lucky for you, we will be talking about Thomas Jefferson today.” You chuckled. “Period four spans from 1800 to 1848, which will cover different aspects like the developmental growth of political parties as a result from the expansion of suffrage, and definitive aspects of American culture expounded by the Era of Good Feelings…”

Fuck me.

Eddie Munson sat through forty-seven minutes of the Jeffersonian Era, listening of the profoundness of the Revolution of 1800s, and America’s god given right to expansion and the manifest destiny- or whatever bullshit propaganda that damn textbook pounded out to high schoolers just to get to some pussy. But if the United States could gain the delusional superiority complex to conquer and prosper on westward, Eddie Munson could do the same- well, on you. This was just one obstacle. One hurdle. One step closer to obtaining his holy grail of getting his dream girl. Shoving a dozen of the triple chocolate chunk cookies you’d baked him was enough to get him through the painful lecture of the demise of the Federalist Party, though, the events of the Mexican-American War was interesting enough to get him into cheering on Mexican troops over Texan volunteers during the Battle of the Alamo, but enough was enough.

“…With the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, the U.S was able to gain the southwest territory, which would include New Mexico, Utah, Nevada, and California, but Mr. Mendez likes specifics, so also be sure to remember we gained the majority of Arizona and Colorado, which bled into parts of Kansas, Wyoming, and Oklahoma.” You huffed in one breath. “Oh! And recall the Monroe Doctrine! Given that we had now warned European countries of the potential threats that would happen if they continued to colonize the western hemisphere, the American win over Mexico had further cemented the U.S as growing world power, which gets into the promotion of democracy and isolationism, which we can get into next-”

“Okay, sweetheart, stop right there.” Eddie scrunched his eyes in agony, cutting you off from proffering anymore mush that was stirring in his already confused brain. “Sorry, uh- sorry, but, like, can we take a break?” He sighed.

“Oh.” Embarrassment rushed to your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, sometimes I can get too much into things, we can totally take a break or, um, call it a day if you’d like-”

“No, no, no, no.” He adamantly interjected, closing the textbook with crumpled notes of his compulsory—upon your request—chicken scratch handwriting, brandishing it away next to the crumb-filled platter that once was delicious baked goods. “No, baby, trust me, I don’t want the night to end.” He delicately nudged your chin with his finger, a teasing smile to pair. “I just got a little headache, s’all.”

“Well, are you sure you don’t want to leave to get some rest?” Your brows molded with concern. “We can pick this up tomorrow, or whenever you’re free.”

Eddie Munson played into his bluster of confidence, leaning in close to run a rough-tipped finger down the dough of your thigh, letting your skin wake and react to his heated touch. “What if I wanna rest here with you?” He whispered. “Have you take care of me?”

You gulped. “Um, l-like what?” You nervously giggled. “I can, like, make you soup for-for your headache.”

“Well, I was thinking more like we can lay down.” He pouted to emphasize his pained facade. “Will you take care of me in bed, baby?”

You licked your lips timidly. “Um, I-I don’t really know if that’s, like, a-appropriate for, um, study sessions. Like, I don’t want you to think I brought you here under the guise of doing… stuff.”

“You can say it, princess.” He smiled. “Say it. You didn’t bring me here to have sex.”

Hearing Eddie’s sultry voice whisper the word had sparked up the special tingles nestled between your thighs, and he could see the sensation consuming your being. “Um, y-yeah. I didn’t bring you here to h-have sex.” Heart racing, you could barely gain the courage to force your eyes upon him. “That’s what, um, Harrison thought when I offered to tutor him.”

“Aw, no, I know, pretty girl.” He cooed, as he firm hand squeezed down on your thigh, pressing the hem of your skirt high. Your sunken teeth had become your only extenuative from letting out a squeal from the jolting sensation. “God, those morons are just dicks. Don’t appreciate how good of a tutor you are. How much of a good girl you are. Right, baby? You’re just such a good girl looking to help, huh?”

You nodded to confirm his sentiment. “Yes, Eddie.”

His hand creeped to separate yours, where they stayed tightly clasped within one another, and he rubbed his fingers against the softness of your warm palm, before confining your hand with his. “Why don’t we go to your room to just relax for a bit, sweetheart? You smell so good, bet your room smells just like you. I love it so much.”

“Uh…”

“It’ll make me feel so much better, princess.” He cajoled. “C’mon, that’s what friends do, right? You said it yourself, sweetheart.”

“And then we’ll study again?” You eyed him with a twinkle in your eyes.

“Man, you really like history, huh?” He teased with a chuckle.

“Of course!” You happily answered, which had him smiling at your enthused face that glowed giddily. “Why wouldn’t I like something I’m good at?” Spoken with all the confidence.

Eddie softly laughed in admiration. “You’re so cute.” He gave your thigh another tender squeeze. “Why don’t we do this: you make me feel good, like friends do, and I promise to make you feel extra good?” He stuck out a promising pinky, as he watched you consider his all too innocent proposition. “I’ll make you feel so good, precious.” He whispered.

“Just relaxing? A small break?”

“Mhm.” He smirked. Fairly ambiguous; not necessarily a lie if not clearly verbalized. But just enough to get you alone in your bedroom. Pinky promised.

Hands held together, you guided Eddie Munson through the halls of your house to reach your beloved bedroom, where secrecy and intimacy laid between the silks and cottons of your sheets. Each step had Eddie’s dick thumping with excitement, just as anticipated as his heartbeat racing out of his chest. You had never had a boy in your room. In fact, this would have to go untold to the authority of your mother and father, too archaic to understand the innocence of it all. Because that’s all it was. Right? Helping a friend in need to aid him to recovery. Headaches can be killer. Mrs. Weber's fourth period chemistry class often had you succumbed with migraines. Science wasn’t like history. As how Eddie Munson wasn’t like Harrison Moran. He wouldn’t do you as the star quarterback tried with you. Because Eddie Munson was different. Nothing like Donna McIntyre tried to get you to believe. He was different. Right?

“We can just relax here for a bit.” You spoke, as you both entered the confines of your room.

The essence of your own personal girlhood defined the sacred space of your room. Where clean, white walls brightened the mood, personal pictures and feminine posters had livened it up. Sweetness had invaded Eddie’s nose, as he was surely met with the arousing smell of your perfume, predicted to the exact notion. Gold jewelry, the one that complemented your skin beautifully, where dainty necklaces would become suffocated in the valley of your tits, where shiny earrings would decorate your earlobes that Eddie wanted to mouth on, had displayed themselves neatly amongst the products of beauty and self care. Pinks and silks, frills and lace, embodying your sweetness to a T. Effeminate in all aspects of nature.

And Eddie Munson was ready to defile everything.

Unabashedly, Eddie had breached beyond the realms of a visitor’s right, and taken advantage of the whole ‘make yourself at home’ sentiment that you had actually never spoken; nonetheless, he’d marched his way to your comforting bed occupied by a number of stuffed animals that unfairly got the privilege of seeing you in your most intimate times.

He splayed himself on the expanse of cushions, a groan leaving his mouth as he relished in the feeling of a bed that wasn’t stabbing of springs, starfishing the expanse that left you giggling on the sideline. “What’re you laughin’ at, you little punk?” He perked.

“Don’t be mean.” You laughed, watching him grab onto one of the many companions that inhabited your bed.

“Mm, I think I’m deserving of pokin’ a little fun at someone who owns like fifty stuffed animals.” He smirked, as he beckoned you with a curling finger.

Given his limbs had almost entirely taken up the breadth of your bed, you were left to sit back on your heels, posture pristine as ever, with your hands neatly kept on the safety of your thighs. Such a sight for sore eyes. Brazen without a care, he hungrily eyed you top to bottom. Bitten lips to round boobs to soft waist to expanding hips. Your revealing skirt inching away and away, giving him a sneak peak to his next meal.

But while his stares lingered on your body, yours had unintentionally followed suit. Laid flat, the apparent bulge beneath worn denim did not hold merit to the art of concealment, and a quiet gasp left your mouth as you scolded yourself for even peering at your newfound friend like that. “N-Not fifty.” You sternly stated with a smile to get your head straight. “Just four.”

“Still a lot.” He said, investigating the furriness of a chubby bumblebee, one where pink and white instead took over the naturally occurring black and yellow.

“Oh.” His comment had suddenly hit you in a way that made you shame with embarrassment. Unbeknownst to him, of course, he was still finding amusement in the flappy wings of the plushy insect. “Um, d-do you think it’s, like, childish? N-Not mature?” You scratched the back of your neck. Perhaps it was the attachment to the juvenile interest—referred to as by Montgomery Davis, a former love interest that didn’t last too long—that prohibited you from finding an adequate boy to be with.

He had chuckled at the fat stinger. There’s no way that could impale someone. But he had heard the apprehension in your voice, peering up from your stuffed animal to see your more than disappointed face. “Oh, no, baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He quickly forwent Bugsbee the Bee to the side, as a calloused hand landed on your knee for reassurance. Sitting up, Eddie Munson overstepped the boundaries of a tutee to whisper his hot breath against your lips. “I fuckin’ love ‘em. So cute, babe. Just like you.”

“Really?” Your dough eyes scanned his face.

“Would I ever lie to you, sweetheart?” He pinched your cheek. “That’s just not what friends do.” He smiled, as he laid back down. “So, is that what you like to do for fun? Get stuffed animals?”

“Um, not necessarily.” You beamed. “I just like having them around, you know? Keep me company for the things I do like to do.”

“Like what, baby?” He squeezed your knee. “Tell me all that you like doing.”

“Well, let's see, oh, uh, I love journaling. Like, writing my feelings down.” He nodded along, prodding as encouragement for further information. “Uh, typically it started out just in the morning, like, when I wake up, I’d write about what I’d like to accomplish for the day. But then, I kinda realized it’d be nice to vent after a long day, so now, I really just do it whenever.” You shrugged.

Boys didn’t care about this stuff, but Eddie Munson asked questions. “Yeah?" He grinned. “That sounds nice, baby. Feels like some therapy shit I need.” He chuckled. “Does it make you feel good to write about your feelings?”

“Yeah!” You happily answered. “Um, sometimes it's hard to talk about what I’m feeling to my friends. Like, Donna, for example; she’s got her whole life planned out, she’s so smart. If it’s hard for me to understand what I’m feeling, then I know Donna won’t. I’m scared she’ll judge me.”

“Donna’s a bitch.” He gruffed, with a groan of disdain.

“No, don’t say that, that’s mean.” You chastised him. “She’s my friend, Eddie.”

“Right, right, sorry, baby.” He quickly made up for it. “It’s just hard to get along with her, s’all. But, uh, this journaling… what kinda feelings do you write about? Like, uh, I don’t know, private ones? You can tell me, honey.”

You nervously laughed, squirming in the seated position of being on your calves. “Y-Yeah, like, uh, well sometimes I worry that I won’t ever get, like, a real boyfriend. Like, a serious relationship. Not like whatever gross hookup the boys at our school want. I don’t want that.”

Eddie caressed the skin of your leg. “Totally, babe. Don’t waste your time with the little boys at our school. You need a real man, huh? Someone who’s gonna take care of their pretty girl.” He smirked, as you nodded in agreement.

Your heart lumped out of your chest, as you followed the languid movements of his large hand encapsulating your bent knee. His touch felt fiery against your skin, creating a series of goosebumps in his guided path, like a mark of territory. Your thighs, once again, clenched at his mercy. Seeing the prominent blue veins reveal themselves from under his alabaster skin had you striked with a familiar heated tingle. The tingles you’d have to satiate alone at night. “You think I can find someone like that?” You softly asked with all vulnerability.

Eddie snaked his hand upward to gently hold one of yours. “Ugh, absolutely, princess, are you crazy? Sexiest and sweetest thing in the world, remember I told you? I meant it, baby. Sometimes you just gotta look right in front of you.” He smugly smiled. Your mouth went dry, as you attempted to ease your flustered smile. “Just like me, I need a princess to take care of.”

“Mhm, you deserve someone nice, Eddie.”

“But, uh, I also need someone who’s not gonna judge me.” He perfected a pout that had you sympathizing at his feet. “Y’know, like I said before, some people are just so mean, wouldn’t understand me. Would you judge me, princess?”

“Oh, no! Never, Eddie! Solemnly, I understand the feeling, I’d never do that to you.” You preached with such vehemence, it had Eddie’s blood pooling to the length of his dick with a sickening smile eating his face.

“So, you wouldn’t judge me if I told you what I like to do for fun, baby?” He played with your fingers, an act of innocence that had your heart soaring.

“Nuh-uh.” You affirmed with a shake of your head. “You can tell me.” You delicately approached.

“Well, sweetheart, I really really love touching myself.” He whispered, reveling in the sensation of your hand automatically squeezing his in a tightening hold, eyes rounding in surprise. “I do it all the time, sweetheart.”

“Oh.” Flustered beyond recognition, the single word had become the only thing trusted to speak, as his admission had ignited millions of sparkling tingles, letting a gush of wetness uncomfortably soak your precious underwear.

He sneered with delight in power. “You’re not judgin’ me, are ya, baby?”

“No, no!” You rushed out. “I, uh- it’s totally n-normal… um, doing that. People- everyone does it.”

“Yeah?” He piqued with interest, watching you unfold into his ingenious trap. “You do it, too, princess?”

Your cheeks were invaded by hot blood, tainting your face with humiliation at the thought of giving up such intimate information. But he was your friend. You didn’t want him to feel judged. And lying was awful. Taught by the man, himself, Honest Abe. Great, and now history was being brought up again! It felt as if the devil had blown his burning breath to flame your face with embarrassment, but the devil was enticing, inching you to the darkside, where you’d be gifted with the persuasion of pure hedonism for the rest of your life. Eddie Munson was the devil. Materialized in the most euphoric way possible.

You were wriggling, letting spiking friction torment your pussy under his glare. He was waiting. “Um, y-yeah, Eddie. I-I do it. Sometimes.”

An airy groan left his mouth, one he didn’t obscure, simply letting it out for you to witness. “Mm, I knew you would. Pretty girls like you love to touch themselves.” Holding his hand seemed to be the only form of comfort to enduring his gross words. You didn’t want to let go. “Love rubbing your pussy, don’t you baby?”

You didn’t like that word. But words deemed filthy by your definition only seemed to burn you coming from the mouth of Eddie Munson, himself. Harrison Moran once said he’d like to see your pussy. It made you scowl in disgust, and kick him out. But Eddie Munson had you enamored.

“Yeah.” You whispered bluntly, feeling that his trust could leave you to softly speak with no repercussion.

“Tell me, sweetheart, with your fingers?” He embraced your hand. “You play with your pussy with your fingers, put ‘em inside to fuck yourself?” Before you could reason, your head had taken the liberty to shake itself for you. No. Eddie’s brow lifted in confusion. Not to define you by the shyness of your nature, but you hadn’t necessarily struck the pervert, himself, as a user of sex toys. Well, at least, he hoped not. Something about introducing you to the world of vibrators and dildos made his cock jump with joy. “You don’t finger yourself?

“Hands are too small.” You meekly answered, so lightly he could barely hear it.

“What do you do then, baby?”

Perhaps the alchemy of wizardry and spell casting from his beloved hobby of Dungeons and Dragons had magically manifested itself into his current reality—at the very least, it felt as though it had—as Eddie Munson’s words had you reeling in a sudden candid behavior too unfamiliar to your prospective nature. Not to say fibbery came as an innate trait for you, in fact, you honored yourself in the frankness of your words.

But you had never acted on impulsion.

And it felt as though Eddie’s provocative language had you destined at his mercy, forcing your body to act with no regards. There was no thinking under his gaze. No hesitation. For the briefest second of quickness, your eyes had landed in the ivory plush of an adorably stuffed bunny sat just three inches away from his shoulder, that had answered his ribald question.

Your cheeks had ablazened when his quick eye followed your glance that lingered in the air. The corner of his lip had disgustingly peaked into a diabolical smirk, as his perverted mind exploded at the revelation. “Aw, sweetheart.” He groaned, a curious hand reaching out for your bunny.

“No, Eddie!” You tried to jeopardize his movements with urgency. “D-Don’t touch it, it’s not-”

“What is it, sweetheart?” He picked up the bunny, despite your protests. Eddie examined the cute stuffy, his perverted reflection shining back at him through the glassy, round eyes that mimicked your humiliated ones. “Shit, princess, you rub your pretty pussy on your bunny, hm? Does humping your stuffed animal feel better than fucking your fingers inside your cunt?”

“Eddie.” You whined with embarrassment, so shamefaced, dropping your head in your hands to conceal your burning expression.

“It’s okay, darlin’.” He smiled, loving the twisted feeling of having his dick pulsate at your sheepish state. Eddie pried your hands away, revealing your timid face to him. “Remember, baby, I’m not judgin’ you, I just wanna know. Friends, they tell each other everything and help one another out, you gotta tell me, baby.” With a single hand gripping both your wrists tightly, you refused to look him in the eye, fear consuming you at the thought of Eddie Munson finding you gross for your actions. A wave of tears were threatening your eyes, and you hoped peering at the organized clutter of your nightstand would be enough to withstand the mortifying experience of crying after having him learn what you did.

“You’re gonna make fun of me.” Your trembling lip managed to mutter out.

“Aw, no, baby, I would never.” He turned your chin to force you to face him. “Honestly, sweetheart, thinkin’ of you doing that is so sexy.” He groaned with a bite to his lip. “God, picturing you humping your little stuffed animal has me feeling a little hot, see.” His hand deserted your face to rake over his pronouncing bulge, that seemed larger than before. “Mm, got me so worked up, baby. This is all your fault.” He moaned, squeezing his cock with a heavy hand.

Your mouth had opened at the sight of him touching himself over his pants. Those funny tingles had bursted between your thighs, and so insecurely, you questioned him. “Really?”

“Ugh, absolutely, babe.” He returned to your bunny, laying back to play with the small arms of your teddy, as his hand remained stationed on his boner, massaging his erection with breathy grunts leaving his mouth. “You’re so fucking beautiful, princess.” While attempting to ease your emotional nerves, Eddie had taken a good look at your bunny, the evidence of your usage being found in the matted fur surrounding the pink nose of your innocent companion. “Shit, did you fuck yourself this morning, baby?”

“That’s why I didn’t want you to touch it!” You dreaded. “I promise I’ll clean it, give it here-”

A loud gasp left your mouth, as Eddie rejected your request, bringing your stuffed bunny nose to nose, inhaling a waft of the lingering scent of your pussy. His eyes closed in ecstasy, moaning loudly as your raw smell invaded his being, rubbing the tent in his pants harshly for any form of relief. “Fuck, baby, you smell so good. I gotta touch myself.” He flung your precious stuffed animal back, in reach for his belt, cursing under his breath as his abrasive movements momentarily caused the leather to tighten when needing to be off.

“W-What?” Your brows jumped to crease your forehead.

“I can’t help it, baby, you’ve got me so fucking hard right now.” Eddie tugged opened his belt, rushing to undo the brass button of his pants. “Fuck, you’re not gonna judge me, right? That’s not what friends do. In fact, friends help each other out. Especially when they’re as sexy as you, baby.”

Swollen to a girth of thickness, Eddie’s cock smacked out with eagerness to fuck, and his precum oozed out, as he watched your face morph into surprise at seeing the first cock in your life. His ringed hand wrapped around himself, cursing under his breath as he felt the jolts of pleasure crash over him. “I touch myself like this, baby, fuck.” He squeezed the head of his cock, smearing his precum down to his base. “Do it so much to you, god, fuck me, princess, I think about you all the time. Can’t stop myself from jerking off at the thought of your pretty, little face.” Eddie whined.

Your lips stayed stationed agape from the divulgence and sight of what was occurring in front of you. You hadn’t even prospered the fact that your body was reacting more candidly than your mind had anticipated, and Eddie nearly blew his load watching your thighs swish against one another to relieve your arousal. “Y-You think about me?” You delicately spoke.

“Of course, fuck, fucking look at yourself, mm.” He tightened his grip. “Shit, baby, are you feeling horny, too? Is lookin’ at me making you wanna rub that fucking pussy?”

“U-Um, I-I don’t know.” Nervous eyes attempt to look around for anything that wasn’t Eddie Munson masturbating in your bed. “I-I don’t wanna do anything… anything bad. I don’t wanna get in trouble, Eds.”

“No, no, baby, it’s not bad, it’s good- so fucking good.” He sucked in his breath, as his hand picked up the pace. “Fuck, you’ll feel so good, darlin’- let me make you feel good, princess.” Eddie heaved, inching his large hand up your thigh until his fingers brushed your risened skirt. “Don’t tell anyone, and we won’t get in trouble.”

You watched with heavy pants, as Eddie’s strength managed to dig his fingers into the fat of your inner thigh to part them, and reveal those drenched baby pink panties he so perfectly predicted in the filth hive of his mind. “L-Like this- um, Eddie I’ve never done this with someone else, I-I don’t what to do-”

“Shh, shh.” He demanded, saving your breath from a wrecking tirade of being inexperienced. “Just let me touch you like good friends do.” His fingertips skimmed the puddle in your panties, causing an unwarranted squeal to escape your mouth, as you bucked your hips into his touch. “Oh, my-”

“Mm, Eds, you’re making me feel funny!” You attempted to close your legs, but his hand was quick to lightly slap your thigh in refusal.

“Don’t fucking close your legs, fuck, just let me touch you.” His grip held you exposed to him, and he was aggressive with the way the pad of thumb smushed against your covered clit, forcing you to ball your sheets into your tightening fists.

A guttural moan was ripped from you, as his thumb worked intricately to circle your clit, letting your hips ride his fingers. “E-Eddie!”

“That’s right, just hump my fucking hand, baby.” He whined, as he continued to jerk his cock, until his hips were following in sync with yours; his pivoting to thrust into his hand, yours grinding in desperate need for release. “Shit, touch me like I’m touching you- fuck, put your hands on me.”

Eddie’s slick hand grappled onto your wrist, pulling your resisting fist from your balled blanket onto his dick, where he maneuvered your fingers to wrap around his girth and mimic the strokes he once gave himself. A surge of wetness gushed at your given ability to elicit a deep groan from Eddie Munson. Seeing him react to your touch as such spurred a wave of confidence to continue your ministration, tightening your grip around his dick and providing him the languid movements that had his heavy sack pulsating with a need to cum.

But Eddie Munson’s ego was growing expeditiously.

And he wasn’t about to be putty in your hands- your oh so tiny, soft hands that gripped him like a vice and made him to want to fuck it for an eternity. No. Not when his hand was cupping your hot pussy, fingers becoming moist through your wet underwear, as they dug between your lips to rub that sensitive little clit and had you whimpering at his command.

“Fuck, stand up, princess.” He shoved your hand off his cock, simultaneously choosing to regrettably tear his away from the warmth of your cunt.

Whining in despair, you stuttered. “W-What? Why?”

“Because,” Eddie positioned himself to the edge of bed, grabbing your hand to guide onto wobbly feets, pins and needles pricking your legs as they woken from their previous position, “I’m gonna put my cock between your pretty, little lips.”

Manspreading, his thighs parted for your residence, Eddie’s penis burning red with desire, as it hung heavy against his abdomen, each protruding vein slimed with a coat of his precum. His hands rested on your hips, and he smirked as he took in the sight of your body, one he desired so much to just touch and violate for his pleasure. The blatantly obvious was shown in your face; your undivided attention had primarily focused on his dick, and he couldn’t help the chuckle of egotism that erupted from his chest, as he smoothed down the bumps and curves of your body.

“Aw, you like looking at my cock, princess?” He sneered with a drenching voice of condescendment that had your head snapping with embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“No, no, baby, don’t be.” Eddie’s focus began shifting to the hem of your shirt, teasing it up to reveal the soft navel of your belly. “It’s all yours to look at. Just like your pussy is all mine.” He bit his lip. “Especially when I fuck my cock inside of you, hm, you gonna let me, baby?”

That had your chest heaving with bursts of nerves, both good and bad. To know Eddie wanted that closeness with you was profoundly what had your heart fluttering with the idea of him loving you to a committed relationship. One where he was a boy calling you his girlfriend, and you were a girl calling him your boyfriend. But Lacey Fisher’s words had suddenly begun playing in your head like a record on loop. “It hurt.”

And Eddie Munson’s cock was pulsating at a length in which both of your hands had to wrap around his girth just to mount it.

“Um, I-I don’t, uh- Eddie I’ve never done that b-before… I want you, like, to be my boyfriend, right? Like, this is what boyfriend-girlfriends do? B-But maybe I should wait- or we should… as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

There was a little hint in your voice. The way you suggested your ending in a lighter octave, fear that Eddie didn’t want to be your boyfriend, that he’d be just like Harrison Moran. But Eddie Munson wasn’t Harrison Moran, and his smile lit up at the timidness of your stature.

His dream girl.

“I get to be your boyfriend, baby?” He leaned in to press a tender kiss upon your thigh.

A shy smile corrupted your face, as you nodded to his question. “Mhm! Is it okay if we kiss like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

He chuckled at your cuteness, squeezing the meat of your legs in frustration at the overload he was feeling for you. “Of course, princess, c’mere.” Bending slightly at the waist, Eddie took the liberty of enduring most of the labor of stretching as far as he could until his lips crashed upon yours. Your mouth just as sweet as your being, Eddie moaned at the moisturizing sensation of the vanilla strawberry lip gloss that conjoined you together. His hands were aggressive to suddenly keep your cheeks in place, forbidding you to leave his mouth until he was ready to let go. It’s why you squealed when learning Eddie had no shame being the messy kisser he was; pushing his tongue between your lips, clashing teeth with teeth, consuming your mouth, and plunging an obscene amount of spit to your tongue, as his ravished in exploration. “Mm, fuck, love kissing you.” His delirious voice murmured against your lips. “Remember, honey,” he finished you off with one more peck, “you can’t tell Donna and friends about this. Not about how we got together, okay?” Eddie stroked your face. “They wouldn’t understand, only say mean things about you and me.”

“Okay.” You quietly agreed, wanting to protect your boyfriend from the harsh words Donna would possibly say. How could she pull you away under the guise of protection, when Eddie Munson’s been nothing but sweet to you? What was she seeing that you weren’t? Surely, you always kept your mouth closed, deciding against your sour opinion of Tucker Walsh, who Donna had on-and-off dated for months.

“Yeah, you’ll be a good girl and won’t tell anyone?” He cooed, stroking your face.

“Uh-huh.” You gently beamed, seeing his eyes scan your face with proudness.

“Perfect.” Eddie pecked your nose. “Now, c’mon, sweetie, don’t you wanna show your boyfriend your tits? Always dreamed of seeing ‘em.” Untrustworthy of your awkward movements, you had let Eddie take the reins, simply standing straight to have him, once again, persist the labor of handling you to undress in front of him. His fingers tickled your sides, as they grappled with your shirt to pull it over your head, and spring your tits from the confinements of the tight material. Eddie dramatically sucked in his breath upon sight, mumbling swears because your nipples had hardened from the chill air. “So fucking pretty- fucking beautiful, sweet girl.” He groaned, taking advantage of your topless self, and having a squeeze at your boobs.

“Y-You think I’m beautiful?” You whimpered, loving the beguiling feeling of his callouses scraping your tits, only to pull and pinch at your sensitive nipples.

“So fucking beautiful.” Eddie was quick to answer, placing a kiss to your belly button, which had butterflies fluttering in your stomach, making you swoon over your kind boyfriend. Boyfriend. “Most gorgeous fucking girl I’ve ever seen. Just wanna be with you so bad- always wanted to be with you, sweetheart.”

“You are with me… now.” You giggled, which had him grinning salaciously.

“Yeah, I am, huh?” He hand traveled down to your skirt, playing with the soft fabric. “Got the prettiest girl in school at my hands, I’m so fucking lucky.” He teased his way to the hem of your underwear, teetering between gently pulling them down, only to secure them back in place just to have your squirming with want. “I want you to do somethin’ for me, baby, okay? Just wanna see you out of these cute, little panties, but, honey, turn around and do it.”

Ready to please him, you obliged, turning your backside to him, leaving you to look back and watch him sit back to enjoy the incoming show, as his hand wrapped around his cock and, once again, began his slow strokes. “Like this?”

“Mhm.” He breathily sighed. “Just bend over real deep, princess, so I can see up your skirt, and I wanna- fuck, I wanna see you take off your panties just like that, shit.”

Eddie Munson was a little weird.

But maybe that’s what makes your boyfriend so interesting. Getting to know him will be fun. But for right now, you’d do as he says. The idea of making him happy made your heart flutter with joy, as a little voice in your head spoke to you that Eddie Munson was there to make you happy, as well. Bending forward, your skirt had completely risen, exposing your ass to him and that darkened spot in your panties waving at him as a tempting testament to how horny he was making you feel.

“God, what a fucking ass.” Eddie grunted, spurring his hips to fuck up into his hand. “Go ahead and take those panties off, baby, show me what’s waiting for me.”

Grabbing the lace of your underwear, you tugged down the cotton, fighting the bit of resistance from when Eddie’s fingers buried your panties between the lips of your pussy. But they peeled off, showing him strings of sticky wetness that clung to the gusset and glistened your cunt. Eddie had to immediately stop touching himself, almost shooting his cum out from the sight of your puffed pussy lips squished between your thighs. As your panties teased down your legs, pooling at your ankles, you were startled from the abrupt groping from your boyfriend, feeling him grab handfuls of your cheeks that kept you spread wide, as you stood straight.

“Eddie!” You shrieked into small laughter.

“Oh, my god, you’re gonna fucking kill, baby, fuck, look at you- this ass, look at this fucking wet pussy.” He kneaded the dough of your butt, before placing a stinging spank to watch the fat jiggle from his heavy hand.

“Ow, Eddie!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He was quick to land delicate kisses to the burning area, as the incriminating hand ran over your skin to soothe you. “Just can’t fucking help it.” Securing your hips, Eddie turned you around until your pretty face was smiling down at him, letting his cock twitch with all love and adoration for you.

“What now?” He loved your curiosity. Getting to corrupt your innocent mind into wanting more, until you were his eager slut, begging to shove his cock into all your holes until you were leaking his cum.

“Now,” he smiled, reaching behind him to bring forth your plushie bunny, one tainted with your cum and it had his dick jumping for joy, “you’re gonna show me how you fuck your little bunny, baby.” You swallowed thickly at his request, a twinge of embarrassment coursing through you at the request of showing Eddie something so carnal. But he was your boyfriend. And you could find trust in your boyfriend to make you feel good. “But I also need you to work that little mouth around my cock, honey. Can you do that? Suck it for me?”

You feared disappointing him. “I-I don’t know how. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay, I’ll teach you, baby. Just get on your knees for me, yeah?” Last month, Eddie nearly combusted into the crotch area of his jeans watching you suck on a red lollipop during the chaotic minutes of lunch. Safe to say, an entire monologue teasing the meaning behind the potential return of hooded cultists had been ruined in the midst of advertising his upcoming campaign to his eager friends, who embarrassingly had to watch their Dungeon Master choke on his spit, when Eddie found your tongue twirling around the cherry ball of candy, only to suck up the syrupy saliva into you mouth. The head of his cock was no different than that lollipop. You’d do just fine.

Letting your knees rub against your carpeted floor, your hands find perch onto his denim thighs, and you outlined the length of his cock with eyes, wondering how something of that thickness could fit into your mouth. Eddie parted ways with his pants, shuffling out of the rough material, with a metal chain and leather belt clanking along the way, to ensure enough room to have you get off on your stuffed animal.

“Go ahead, baby, start humping your little stuffie for me.” Eddie had meticulously placed your bunny between your legs, watching you for the moment your pussy came in contact with the nub of its nose.

Eddie hissed at the affliction of pain from your nails digging into his hairy thighs, as you became too enlivened by the friction of your clit grinding against your little bunny to account for the provocation you were besetting against him. But Eddie Munson loved it. His immoral mind found arousal in watching you abuse his skin from pleasure, compelling his cock to jerk with profound need.

“Yeah, feel good, princess? Rubbin’ that fucking pussy?” You pathetically nodded, gentle whispers of whimpers leaving your mouth, as you humped your teddy with all conviction. “God, just love usin’ that little bunny as a fuck toy, huh?” He pinched your chin to force your glossy gaze upon him. “Just like I’m gonna use you, right, honey?”

“Mhm, oh my- mm, fuck!” Your tummy clenched, as your hips picked up the momentum to circle the stuffed animal's face, and defile its fur with your wetness.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be my sweet, little bunny?” Eddie’s thumb began pulling at your bottom lip, leaving him cursing as it bounced back to its plumpness. “My sweet, little bunny who’s gonna be my little fuck toy to use whenever?”

“Y-Yes, Eddie… whenever.”

“Fuck, open that pretty fucking mouth for me, and stick out that tongue, baby.” Holding his cock up, Eddie smiled as you obliged so kindly, letting him smack the angry tip of his dick against your tongue, as you finally got a taste of him.

“This w-will make you feel good, mm?” You pondered through mumbles, as you lost yourself in the sensation of pussy buzzing from the burning friction against your clit.

“Yes, baby, fuck, just keep your mouth open.” Eddie’s hand fell heavy upon the top of your head, as he beckoned you to take him deeper, letting his cock to become enveloped in the soft warmth of your mouth. It became no question of whether this would feel good for him, the guttural moan that left his mouth upon intrusion had your hips bucking with fervency.

The viscid coating of his cock with pungent precum made you hum, igniting a series of grunts from your boyfriend, as hissing vibrations exploded in his body. Eddie guided your hands to the base of his cock, encouraging you to massage the leftover that wasn’t occupied by your mouth. “Fuck, yes! Make it messy, baby, just spit all over it!”

Eddie Munson sat back in rhapsody, losing himself in the delirium of having you choke on his cock, as your spit puddled his length, escaping your lips as you suckled on the frenulum of his head. His hair cascaded down, letting his body become too heavy to support as your mouth was bringing him a gratifying high that he never wanted to come down from. Your humps grappled against thumping his thumping veins, enclosing him into a vice grip that had him moaning at your mercy.

“Mm, sh-shit, princess, your—ugh, aaahh—mouth!” He huffed against his restricting lungs. Eddie’s hips began to mimic your bucking, as you moaned at the fizzing rub of your bunny scratching that greedy itch on your clit, allowing him to shove his cock to the gummy constriction of your throat, forcing you to gag on his invasive cock. Sweet spit raining down to his heavy balls, letting his pelvis of bushy pubes become soak with your secretion.

You pulled off with a sore throat, thick strings of spit sticking from his cock to your lips, as your watering eyes scarily gleamed up at him. “Ugh! Y-Your too big- I can’t-”

“Yes, you can, fuck, it’s feels so fucking nice when you choke!” He urged your head back down, now blubbering with a need to finish on your tongue. “J-Just keep fucking yourself, shit! Don’t stop until I tell you.”

Your tongue reached to tickle the underside of his dick, memorizing his stern rigids that had your jaw hurting from breaking open. Eddie sat up to spy down your backside, where he virtually lost it at the sight of your ass cheeks recoiling from the lively movements of your hips humping your stuffy. “Ugh, you gonna cum, sweetheart?” He cupped your face, guiding your languid movements up and down his cock, as you went through the endeavor of nodding to his question. “Fucking cum, baby, cum all over your little bunny!” He demanded.

His heavy hand landed on the back of your head, shoving your face to become suffocated in the unruliness of his pubic hair. Nose inhaling his musk, you sputtered on his cock, gagging at his length prodding at the back of your throat, all to bring Eddie’s long arm down to reach for your ass. A burning sting from a substantial slap had you wailing on his fat cock, “Fucking faster.” He dictated your movements, spurring your hips to drive into the plushy with spanks to your tormented ass. “Cum with me, fuck! M’gonna cum! Cum, baby, cum!”

The bundle of nerves in your pussy began detaching from one another, like a rope inching to snap. Rutting into your stuffed animal, your muffled moans were buzzing his cock, bringing you to the brink of a gushing explosion. Your thrusting became uncoordinated, as your tummy bursted with euphoria, and your release adulterated your white bunny.

Sobbing on his cock, his stomach muscles tightened into an agonizing cramp, as his balls clenched to pump out his seed, flooding your throat with his hot cum. “Ah! Shit, shit, shit—ugh! Fuck me!” Gagging, your hands repeatedly swatted his thick thighs—decorated with the crescents and blistering scratches of your nails—to release you from potentially vomiting on his dick.

His hand relinquished his hold, allowing you to come up for air. Gasping, struggling to find a breath of fresh air, as a concocted mixture of spit and cum dribbled out from your mouth, but you had no hesitation licking your lips to consume the strange taste of his release.

“Holy shit, that was incredible!” Eddie dropped back onto your bed, hands gripping his sweaty curls, as he urged his mind to collect the events that just transpired before him. Chest heaving, teeth gritted, skin moist, this- this is what that Belinda chick was singing about! It wasn’t until a warm head landed on his thighs, that his thoughts jumped to prioritize your wellbeing. In retrospect, the notion of his sticky balls pressing into your temple with his flaccid cock resting upon your forehead shouldn’t have been so idyllic to Eddie Munson, but my god, was his heart constricting at your exhausted state—half-lidded eyes begging for rest, plump lips parted for airy breaths, and your manicured fingers delicately tracing against the hairs of his thigh to soothe the injuries you were beginning to feel remorseful for inflicting.

His hand gently stroking your cheek, garnering your attention, letting you tiredly peer up at his rosy state of pink cheeks and glistening skin. “You okay, princess? Too much? I shouldn’t have gone so rough, I’m sorry, baby. Fuck, just lost myself, you felt so good.”

“It’s okay.” Your saccharine voice assured him. “You’re my boyfriend, you can do anything to me.”

Eddie Munson lovingly smiled at you, as he caressed your hot face. “As long as you want it. Only. Okay?” You nodded with confirmation, and you gazed up at your boyfriend with endearing eyes that had him bubbling with devotion to you. “Such a good girl, did you cum?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I promised to make you feel extra good, didn’t I, baby?” He smirked. “C’mere.” His strength guided you onto your bed, laying you against your cloud-like pillows, before reaching down to grab a hold of your bunny. Soiled with your cum, Eddie’s menacing grin cracked through his face, as he lightly pressed a finger into the wet fur. Your tummy stirred watching his tongue delve into the drenchness, and humming with delight. “Fuck, your pussy taste so good.” He groaned, discarding your stuffy to climb between your thighs.

Steady on his knees over you, he peeled off his ragged shirt, exposing his ivory skin of sharp bumps and squishy softness, ornamented with scary images of permanent ink your parents would surely scowl at if they ever saw. You beamed at him. “You’re so pretty, Eddie.”

His teeth stabbed into his lips, as he teasingly smiled with giddiness. “Thank you, darling. Never as pretty as you, though.”

While wanting the intimacy, you couldn’t help the surge of anxious nerves that brought an onslaught against you, as Eddie began trying to liven his cock with small strokes while eyeing your glistening pussy. “W-Wait, um…” His brows jumped into his bangs, as he awaited your concerns. “No.” You swallowed thickly. “Eddie, I’m not ready for… that.”

He could be Harrison Moran. He could break up with you. He could scoff at your prudeness. But Eddie Munson was simply a perverted man who devoted his longing into the beautiful girl that graced the halls of Hawkins High. He wasn’t Harrison Moran. And you learned that as Eddie stayed silent, merely leaning down to place an electrifying kiss to your lips, pouring out all his adoration for the girl that captivated his dreams every night for the past two years.

“I still wanna keep my word, sweetheart.” He murmured into your kiss. “Can I do something else?”

You meekly looked into his darkwood eyes. “Will it hurt?”

“Not at all, princess.” He eased the scrunch of your worriment brows with a peck to your forehead. “I’d never hurt you.”

With the nod of your head and the words of your mouth, Eddie had your corroboration to do as he please, and his mouth had traveled down the junction of your neck, sucking small love bruises to the column length; to the valley of your breasts, where his lips unclosed your hardened nipples with gentle suckles; and the softness of your bell, decorating your stomach with appreciative kisses that made you feel beautiful to the touch; before his breath became hot over your needy cunt. Sugary kisses of mawkish desire met the plushness of your inner thighs, inching to your swollen pussy lips, irritated and slick from the rawness of rubbing against your bunny.

His long tongue dragged its way to part your cunt, leaving your breath to hitch at the newfound contact of his wet muscle ravishing you. If this is anything close to what he felt when your mouth was on him, surely you could forgive him for the bruised throat you’d have to aid in the following morning. Eddie became brutally gluttonous at the tangy arousal he slurped from your pulsating hole. So small and unused, he’d have a fucking field day when the moment would come he could drill his cock into you virgin pussy.

The tip of tongue burned against your abused clit, agonizingly teasing swirls around the nub just to flick it with fervency, and have you crawling away from the unbearable overstimulation. “E-Eddie!” You stumbled for air. Your foot had planted itself against his hot forehead at an brutish attempt to push his determined mouth away, but Eddie Munson triumphed you in the realms of physical strength, and his arm had pried you open, before securing themselves to ground your squirming thighs.

Latched like a leech, Eddie was becoming feverish from the deliriums of being pussy drunk. Sucking onto your clit, his head shook to abuse you, forcing the muscles in your legs to tighten with trembles. Your scent had engulfed him, as his nose smushed against your clit to snake his tongue into the clenching walls of your velvet pussy. Incoherent words were tumbling into your pussy, entirely unheard from your wrenching moans.

“So fucking good.” He gargled into your cunt, groaning into your pussy, and making out with your entrance. Heaven was a place on Earth, and it was you.

“I-I can’t, Eddie! Too much!” Though, your actions had conflicted with your words, hands buried into his hair, shoving his face to be submerged between your thighs, as your hips gyrated against the dimensions of his pretty face. On the precipice of letting go, your back flew off the surface of your bed, shaky legs lovingly crushing his head, with a moan beyond hotter than the numerous porno films of corny lines and exaggerated screams Eddie consumed just to perfect his skills. “I’m c-cumming- aahh!”

Eddie slurped your remaining juices, tonguing your pussy in search for anymore of your delicious cum that he would relish in. Patting your throbbing clit with a cherishing kiss goodbye, Eddie climbed your limp body, with a mouth and chin laminated with your wetness. One he smashed into your mouth with a smearing kiss against your lips, giving you a taste of the tarte sweetness of your pussy.

“You’re such a good boyfriend.” You breathily giggled against his mouth, leaving him chuckling at your inebriated-like state. “Best one I’ve had.”

“I’m the only one you’ve ever had.” He laughed, as he guided you to rest on the thumping beat of his full heart.

“So?” You smiled. “Donna’s always complaining about Tucker, and you’re nothing like him. I could never complain about you.” You were making him melt into a puddle of mush, as your words erupted in his tummy. He smiled down, kissing your hairline, before nudging you to grab a hold of your lips to his. “Mm, you smell good.” You hummed with delight.

Eddie guffawed. “Princess, that’s your pussy on my face.” He bumped your scrunching nose with a tender finger. “I probably smell like sex, sweat, and cigarettes, sweetheart.”

“But it’s you. I like you, Eddie.” Your round eyes peered up at him, and he held your contact.

“Yeah?” He whispered. Insecurity was swirling within him. Surely you were just babbling from the orgasm gifted upon you from him. Eddie Munson was Eddie Munson. You were fucking you. His vulgar behavior and profligate mind was undeserving of a girlfriend like-

“I’ve liked you for a while.” You smiled with closed eyes. Relishing. The bombshell of the revelation had his bursting with cinching brows of astonishment. “Remember, two years ago, we had art class together?” Remember? It was the day Eddie Munson first laid his eyes on you, of course, he remembers! Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t s- “I saw you, and you were just so cute doodling in your sketchbook. These scary monsters, and stuff. But they were good. I always wanted to compliment you on it, but I never got the courage. Just stuck to having a crush on you.” You delicately giggled.

Eddie Munson could have been fucking you for the past two years?!

You were quick to hum into a light slumber. Eddie was stupefied at the actual idiocy he was currently metaphorically forehead-slapping himself for. That was until your sudden jolt had him jumping with concern.

“Oh, my god! Eddie, we completely forgot to go over the promotion of democracy and isolationism coming into the late 1800s!” You heaved.

He cooed. “Oh, sweetheart…”

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