#stranger things 4 fanfiction

[wroteclassicaly]

She’s Trouble

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Summary: Tired of trailing behind, feeling like you don’t matter much, you decide that 86’ isn’t only going to be your bestfriend’s year.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Word count: 16,185

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of drug usage, blood, NSFW, smut, drinking, Eddie is angry and sad in this, masturbation, slight voyeurism, breeding kink, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, angry sex, creampie, angst, fighting, rough sex, Dom!Eddie, and MORE!

A/N: I started writing this based off the scene of Eddie smirking at the cheerleaders he lets by after his cafeteria speech. And, well… it’s spawned itself a new life and turned into a whole lot more than I planned. But so is the life of an author, am I right? ;) Eddie is a dick in this, Reader is a lot more vocal than I’ve written before. I wanted to do something a bit different and I hope this accomplishes my mission?

I wanna thank @littledemondani for helping me out of my brain fart on which direction to take this! Also, do check out her masterlist, which is pinned at the top of her blog (it won’t let me link it here). She’s an incredible author and a fellow Eddie Munson slut, and one of my longtime best-friends! ♥️

Side note: I’ve also shifted a few things in the timeline of the show, for obvious reasons. The whole Eddie/Chrissy thing doesn’t happen on the same night as in the series. Chrissy and the reader have a good interaction and Eddie is a dickhead, but his reasoning will be explained. Also, while the reader is wearing a bustier top, this is an all inclusive fic, where the reader can be anything you imagine! I believe anyone can wear anything that they choose to—regardless of their size, so don’t let that bit of the story deter your perception, as I’ve left it open-ended! ;)

Enjoy! I’ve got a lot coming up soon! Part twos of multiple fics, prompts, plus other goodies! <3 - Kristen

~*~

You watch the way that he tries to be cute and coy towards them, attempts to impress with a dramatic wave through of his hand. Short skirts, tight little tops, bouncing ponytails, and a shitload of generic gossip on their painted lips—they pass by, everything included but those damned pom poms. Apparently they are giddy at his little show of calling out every group but your own in the cafeteria. Your eyes roll so hard that you feel a protesting sting, ignoring it to stab your fork into whatever creation is wiggling on your lunch tray. All the guys—freshman to seniors, and you—the only girl since founding, and Hellfire Club’s treasurer/manager to Corroded Coffin—make up the outsider table.

This year, however, you’ve felt so fucking off base with this group and their antics that you’re getting exhausted pretending to care about their shit when they don’t respect you or yours. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are always the sweetest to you, even with Lucas joining a sport, he’s still quick to always give you a smile and a nod whenever you pass him in the halls. They’re young, unlike Eddie and the older guys. You’re finally a senior this year, but still behind your bestfriend by a year in age. All this used to be okay, Eddie multiplying how much he repeats the grade, you trailing behind him like a lost puppy without any brain of her own, but now—it’s unbearably smothering.

And thus, it’s been building. You’re over bringing chips that are from your personal stash and using your gas to go buy smokes with your small work paycheck, or clean equipment for Eddie’s band, or stay up all night just to design campaign posters for Eddie, only for him to be so fucking stoned that he doesn’t even appreciate it, nor remember it.

“Fucking fake losers,” Jeff mutters.

“So fake,” Gareth agrees, both looking towards Eddie as he settles himself back down, wiggling his brows at you.

It’s an unsettling pressure that boils inside you, crackling, and as soon as you look into your best-friend’s brown doe eyes—it all comes apart. “You wanna talk about fake?” Your chest pumps a rush of adrenaline, helping careen the words off your tongue before you can stop them. Everyone’s attention snaps quicker than you’re prepared for, eyes wide and shocked. Sure, you’re vocal and sassy, but never outwardly angry. “The fact that all of you will condemn the basketball players, but would give up any of your seats at our table for one of the bitches in a skirt that they chase, if they popped their gum or batted an eyelash. You’d all be a bunch of drooling, little horndogs.” You can feel your heart racing with each pronunciation of a word, rising from your seat, knuckles white from gripping the edges of your yellow tray so hard.

You hear Dustin whisper a ‘whoa’, but your vocal vomit doesn’t stop.

“Frankly? I’m fucking sick of all this.” You pick the tray up and slam it down for good measure, unwrapping your messenger bag from around your seat, and you leave the table of gaping young men behind you, not even indulging yourself in Eddie’s bugged out, concerned stare.

You don’t even have time to throw your bag across your chest, when Jason Carver shouts out from behind you, “Damn, look at Munson’s slut go!”

It seems your group aren’t the only ones taking an interest in your outburst. Your breath is engorged in jagged pants of pitiful air, a fire coursing through you faster than you can handle, your skin singing, prickling with goosebumps. Your cheeks redden in humiliation, your feet swiveling and carrying you, fast and quick to their table, you throw your bag off, body like some damned slow motion track. Everyone notices Eddie’s antics, but you’ve never garnered any attention. It’s a surreal high.

Your combat boots click across the cement flooring, your hair like a dead weight across your back. Carver and his entire group are expectant, chairs scraping across to get out of your way. It’s all such a blur that you don’t even know your fist has collided with Jason’s face until you feel the pressure bite into your knuckles, a crunch beneath your force. He shrieks, his friends jumping to his aid, your stance shifting, ready to take anyone on. Your ears are bubbling with a murky static, applause in some direction, shouts in others.

Your name is being shouted from two different directions, the one you see stomping angrily towards you belonging to principal Higgins. He’s calling for help, shoving his finger in your face, motioning to your shirt. “This Hellfire Club does nothing but cause trouble!”

You snort, completely coming off your hinges, shaking the ends of your shirt, before stepping back and flinging it over your head, leaving you clad in your jeans and a leather bustier top no one could ever picture you owning. You’ve always kept your shit to a minimum to draw less attention, but you liked the support it provided your breasts with. You spin around, hands in the air, using the shirt as a lasso, tossing it at your old table. You begin to giggle, honestly wondering if you should visit the school nurse, but uncaring. Higgins is literally sputtering, making you snort, waving a hand. “I’m a slut, I’m trouble. Anyone have anything else to add? No? Yes?”

You bend back over to snatch your nap sack up, motioning to Higgins. “Lead the way to your office, Sir! Please fucking do.”

The pep in your step as your principal is angrily leading you from the masses is such a euphoric feeling, you’re sure you’ll never feel again in your life. You can taste the drama on your tongue’s tip. You don’t even spare your friends a glance, not wanting Eddie to have a morsel of satisfaction. This is your moment. Not as Eddie Munson’s best-friend, not as his groupie. As Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.

~*~

Eddie Munson has been clutching your discarded Hellfire shirt, doused in your perfume that is brimming his nostrils full, damn near trembling for the past twenty minutes that finish up lunch. He can’t move, that swelling between his legs keeping him glued to his seat, all the images of your fist soaring into Jason Carver’s face, ripping off your clothing in front of Higgins and the entire damned school. He went from concerned, angry at how you acted, to so fucking turned on that his stomach knotted up, sucking him to where he’s seated, his cock throbbing in his jeans. He’s never seen you like this.

The guys are silent, unsure what to say, how to even go about comprehending the you they just saw, that even Eddie himself has never heard of. He knows one thing for sure—okay—two. He has to find out if you’re okay and what’s going on.

~*~

You roll your eyes at the lovely note, signature of a three day suspension secured by Higgins at the bottom. Crumbling it up, you slide it into your back pocket, rifling through your pin tattered bag for a cigarette. You already know where you’re gonna go, and it sure as hell isn’t home. No one is there and no one is gonna care about your minor indecency. You can forge your mom’s signature, much like you do every good grade you bring home that she’s never around to see, or every comment from a teacher about how your folks are missing out.

It’s quiet at your house, your space. You parents more or less sleep there when they’re not gone on business. Pinching the filter, you cup Eddie’s stolen Zippo, that ashy hiss helping beckon that sweet bitter taste in past your lips. You don’t desire that home front solace right now, craving different scenery.

Maybe I’ll get lost…

You feel like Hawkins is your oyster, and you’re eager to explore on your own terms, by yourself. You’ve got your smokes, your pocket knife, and a pen and paper. That’s enough for you to make a decision.

Skull Rock it is.

~*~

One thing about Indiana is the ever predictable bite of hot weather that March brings. Spring is automatically Summer in the Midwest, and this is no different. Your leather top had stuck to your skin in an uncomfortable crunching press, making you eventually discard it, leaving you topless, your only accessories a chain with your birthstone pendant and a thicker silver chain, with a cheesy little guitar charm (a present from Eddie) nestled between your breasts. Your form is shaped against the rock behind your bare shoulder blades, a cool sensation that has you tilting your head back, stretching your neck, treetops breezing above you—tall and luscious. You smile softly, undoing the flap on your bag and seeking out your Walkman and sunglasses.

In moments your eyelids are fluttering closed, shielded from sun rays, your Walkman clicking in place, readying Heart’s Barracuda to nick your ears, coasting in welcomed caresses. It’s not thick heavy metal, but it’s you. And in the serenity of these woods, another cigarette you allow yourself—you begin to drift off in a galactic solitude that is solely your own. You’d learnt how to count beats, read sheet music, even sing a few notes from Eddie, so getting into your song’s groove isn’t hard for you, your fingers wrapping around your chain, tapping underneath the swell of your breast along with the chorus. You’re off the precipice and gone, demolished to the point you don’t hear the familiar footsteps, the sound of your name, or leaves and dirt crunching beneath white Reeboks, nor do you hear a throat-deep groan at his discovery.

~*~

Eddie and you always share this in synch kinda shit, which creeps a lot of people in your circle out. Eddie, however, welcomes it today. When he couldn’t find you after abandoning his lunch, spent what was left of the day attempting, only for Henderson to tell him he’d heard you’d been suspended for a few days—he made it his personal goal to find you. Your parents are gone so he knows the times you do and don’t like to be at home by yourself. And with the way you lashed out at everyone, you won’t go anywhere he has easy access to.

That leaves one place. Skull Rock.

~*~

The drive feels shorter to Eddie this time, but the walk longer. He has to shed himself of his denim and leather, tossing it over his shoulder and clambering up the path towards finding you, keeping your club tee in his back pocket. The more he walks, the more he wishes he brought a drink or his smokes, which remain on his dash. If he’s wrong and you’re not here, he isn’t sure if this is reality anymore. This day has been one big mindfuck.

Thankfully, as he hears a loud tone droning over the clearing, a soft hum, his heart patters in his chest, nostrils inhaling sharply. He rounds the corner’s pathway, already calling your name, his eyes widening, jaw unhinged, fists clenching at his sides. You’re reclining against the boulder’s curve, black shades perched over your eyes, hair draped across your neck, your boot clad ankle crossed over the other, a cigarette perched into your puckering pair of lips, your layered chains swaying, slumbering against your skin, and fuck—your tits, Eddie winces, gripping himself to adjust—frozen.

He can’t not notice how your nipples are reacting to the air. He can’t not detail your shape, how your waist is formed, zeroing in on the baby bat you’d gotten to match his larger ones, inked into your ribcage, and he certainly isn’t forgetting your jeans that are settled over your hips. His eyes glaze over, heat prodding his flesh, shrouding him a veil of desire and raw ache. You don’t notice him, calls of your name falling on mainstream rock’s ears. He doesn’t think approaching you is smart, like a cat and mouse, your behavior for once—unpredictable.

Has Eddie just not been paying attention to you that much lately?

Suddenly, when he’s debating a cowardly retreat, baiting his internal monologue for an excuse, your audible gasp is heard, his name crushed between your gritted teeth.

Fuck.

~*~

In all of his glory—stands your best-friend. He’s balling and un-balling his fists, eyes darting rapidly, tongue sucking against his teeth, feet ready to carry him far away. And the more he avoids your stare, the angrier you get. So what, you’re not good enough to look at because your breasts are out? Modesty to a back burner, you take your crossed arms off your chest, scraping your smoke out on the rock, pushing your glasses into a perch upon your head, body facing Eddie as you stand.

I dare you.

Your eyes complicate a challenge—craving him in your proximity, and hating his grunge blanketed sight. Eddie’s neck is a really pretty thing when he tenses, his jugular agitated against a harsh gulp of air. He answers you by meeting you in the clearing, palms sweaty, scrubbing over his back pockets. It’s a cool damned drink of water, as if you’ve been without, making thee Eddie Munson squirm. But he’s still your best-friend, and you are half naked.

Covering yourself back up so he will look you in the eye, you tuck your arms into a push beneath your sternum, forearms shielding your nipples. It’ll have to do.

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing here?” You snap before he can voice a concern or a question.

Tethered to deep breathing techniques, Eddie is insulted, and is biting back in his acidic response. “After your own personal talent show antics at school, I was worried about you. Excuse-the-fuck-outta-me, Y/N.”

A bitter laugh comes from you. “Oh, you’re focused enough on my shit to actually be worried about me? How kind of you, Edward Munson.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be worried about you?” Eddie is raising his voice, sizzling in a cautious rage. He’s usually happy-go-lucky with you, but you’re pushing these fucking buttons he isn’t aware he’s been hiding.

“You really need a list of reasons? Wait,” you say, moving to circle him, pinching your thumb between your teeth, “you’re probably, completely oblivious, because I’m just Y/N. I’m not your club, not your band, not one of your groupies that flounce around for an ounce from you, then leave your ass for their jock boyfriends.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Eddie raises a hand, rings clattering together. “When the fuck did all this start, Y/N?”

Your arms fall back at your sides with a loud ‘thump’. The heating has settled, your high wearing off, truth remaining as to why you’ve been upset in the first place. A caverning hurt carves its place into your chest, igniting an anguish that drowns you. You’re defeated. “It started when my best-friend forgot that I’m my own person and not his servant. Or maybe it began when my person was so stoned that he barely acknowledged a test I fucking flunked to stay up and make his campaign posters—which, may I add—he also gave zero fucks about-“

“So all this is because I didn’t kiss the very ground you walk on for some posters that you practically begged me to make, and wow—your A+ average went to an A. Curse me into the deepest depths of hell, please.” His bracelet slides down his wrist as he palms his heart.

Maybe you’re not the only one who is changing. Eddie hasn’t ever disregarded you in such a crude manner. Your tongue is practically salivating in need to layer on biting and cruel words, things you won’t be able to come back from. You remain silent, mulling over what to say, glaring, docked, stinging prickles of tears. It’s an elating elevation when the words do come. “I’m your best-friend, Eddie. Not your little groupie. I’m tired of you preaching about conformity, when all I do is conform to you. You don’t ever let me pick music, you always take for granted I’ll give you and the guys rides when your van isn’t working, despite if I might have something to do that doesn’t involve an all male ensemble. I spend my money to buy you cigarettes and snacks for the meetings. I manage gigs, I clean your band’s equipment.”

Eddie sniffs, looking pointedly at you, doe eyes dark and growing increasingly fed up. “Didn’t know you were keeping a tally, Y/N.”

“That’s… That’s all you’re taking from everything I just said to you, Eddie?” You can’t keep that hurt out of your tone this time.

Eddie shrugs, crossing his arms, coldly spitting out, “Seems to me like you’re sick of me. And that’s not my problem, that’s yours.”

Your head is swimming in turmoil, all your acting out and emotions swirling into a mindfuck. He doesn’t care. You’re standing here finally pouring your entire soul out in heaps and your person is pouring gasoline on the pieces, dangling a match.

“I’ve never kept a tally, Eddie. I do these things because they make you happy, and that makes me happy, but it fucking sucks when you don’t appreciate them or care about anything in my life, either.”

“That’s what you really think, Y/N?” There’s a flatline in how he’s speaking to you.

“No,” you murmur, “it’s what I know.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches, teeth grinding. He kicks at the ground with the toe of his shoe, brows raising. “Breaking Jason Carver’s nose and my cold, dead heart.” He splays a hand across his chest. Those rings, which are always a comfort to you, reflecting off the sunlight, dripping in judgement.

Your trembling wavers, crackling sentence structure falling apart. “Eddie. Don’t.”

“No. Fuck you, Y/N. Seriously, fuck you!” He shouts, snapping a finger in your direction.

Your hands rub up and down your goosebump soaked skin, finalizing what you need to do. Heaving in a deep breath, a sentence escapes your lips. And you pray, pray Eddie will heed this warning and value what you have enough to understand, to work it out. “Maybe it’s time to fess up to the fact that 86’ needs to be a bigger year for us both.”

Mind reader. A power you’ve never wanted more than in this moment as you claw at the cusp of your best-friend’s reaction. Outwardly, Eddie shifts, Adam’s apple bobbing, thumb swiping underneath his nose. Your mouth waters, throat reflexes threatening a fountain of vomit. And Eddie takes your warning, slaying through it, every bit of ground beneath your boots threatening to cave in.

“You’re right. Hell, Carver is right. You do act like my slut. And you have every right to change it, because it’s only holding us both back. And it probably has been for a long time.”

Kicking you would’ve hurt less. You’re unable to see Eddie’s form longer, muddled to a watery silhouette, your brave bravado dissipating. You won’t beg him. You’re nothing to him anymore, he’s just confirmed. You try not to think about the first time he taught you how to dance before your first snowball, or how you both snuck Jim Hopper’s cigarettes when you’d get in trouble at school and be sent to see him for minor misdemeanors, or Eddie’s pride when he managed to get you on stage to sing one song with the band, rubbing circles on your back the whole time you both sang to a trio of drunks, or splitting beers on his van’s roof and nearly breaking limbs when it started raining and you had to climb down, how he taught you to drive in the fancy neighborhood and you knocked over the mayor’s mailbox, when you watched him buy his ‘sweetheart’, tears in his eyes at a possession so gorgeous and all his own, his hands gentle as they held you the nights you cried from one stupid thing that felt massive to you, when he was your person and you were his.

Your wet, quivering breaths are what you hear. Birds chirping, wind rustling, even Eddie’s heavy breathing drowned out. It takes what feels like eternity, before Eddie is slashing the quiet, guarded and stoic. “You need to put a fucking shirt on.”

Your jeans are covered in tear drops from a bowed head, fingers shaking hard enough that your knuckles roll into a crack at the motions. You wipe your tears in time to see Eddie hold out your Hellfire shirt—second edition—his being the first. His reverie breaks briefly, and you think… maybe. It’s gone in those brown eyes that you can no longer read or recognize. Filled with loathing and disgust at you, his last words imprinting on your psyche, a physical recoil.

“On second thought. You won’t be needing this anymore.” Eddie makes his way around you and finds his lighter atop your bag, flicking a flame to life and nudging it at the end of your shirt. It catches quick, burns fast, like every fiber of friendship with Eddie Munson.

Eddie tosses the tattered, charred remains to the forrest floor, pocketing his lighter, walking away from you and out of your life.

~*~

He can’t stay any longer and watch you fall apart, not when he’s running away from his cowardice. And he does, run. He moves and clambers, stumbles until he’s from you and the cries that he hears pour off your lips. His chest is thumping sporadically, pulse in his blurry vision. His five fingers catch a tree, slamming, splintering, a sob breaking free of his tear soaked lips.

Eddie Munson forces himself to remember how unsure you looked in your dress when he held you around your waist, never feeling more himself in his entire life than he did with you— at thirteen—during some cheesy school dance, how you entertained his tunes so he could teach you the counting method he uses for his music to move your feet to the beat, all your encouragement every time he hit a new note, or your midnight phone calls to ask what he’d like on his posters, your body trusting him to keep you safe on those nights when everything became too much for you in your life, but you had tried to hide it, or when you both snuck in to see Carrie when you were pre-teens and you couldn’t sleep without him, so he made a makeshift mattress next to your bed for a month, about that time you were so tired from an all nighter that he had walked into his room and found you curled up in his bed, using his vest as a makeshift pillow, your nagging him to study more, because he’s always capable of anything he sets his mind to, and those cookies—the only thing you can bake without having to call for Hawkins fire department—a container you’d brought for him and his Uncle, still sitting on his kitchen counter.

He was your person and you were his. And now? You’re gone. Eddie runs away. He keeps running, leaving you to your own miserable anguish, drowning in his own, getting himself in his rust bucket and going back to his trailer to get completely fucked outta his not-so-right mind.

~*~

By the time your suspension is over and you can no longer barricade yourself into your room and finish off another bottle from your dad’s liquor cabinet—it’s sheer dread. You’re not only the freak who broke Hawkins Highschool’s Prom King’s nose, but you’re the freak without anyone by your side—a true and thorough outsider. As you stand outside your school, nails pinching into already weakened threads dedicated to your bag’s strap, you’re really regretting those couple of drinks this morning and how you’d poured more vodka into a flask to take your Tylenol with. Hell, it’s not like you can get a fix from the school dealer anymore, is it?

Those damned double doors are louder, a jolt to your already throbbing headache, fluorescent lights sparkling in your retinas through your shades that cover a nursing hangover and distraught, red and puffy eyes from a three day sob fest. Each step your boots make sounds like you’re walking to your death, your outfit—sans any Hellfire related attire—is all yours. Your two chains limited to one, Eddie’s gift waiting in a cardboard box you’d half-assed assembled, and tossed in random shit he’d given you. The deeper you get into every hallway, making simple turns you know like the back of your hand, your nausea grows as to what might be awaiting around each corner. Or who. It’s a short lived relief upon arrival at your locker.

You pinch your shades off, raw eyes protesting the moment fresh tears staple your skin in brushes. In red letters, diagonally capitalized across your door contains what you haven’t wanted to face since it happened.

The freak got dumped

You choke on your salvia, throat wet and enduring a suffocation strong enough to have you gagging on the piece of toast and water you’d forced your famished form to consume this morning. You barely make it into the toilets before double over and expelling everything, diaphragm on fire, bones vibrating through tosses. Hair dangling in your face, plastered to your mouth, you sniffle and tremble, vision blurring. You ponder getting yourself fucking expelled, but you made this whole ordeal about it being your year. If you retreat now, what will that do? Mustering all your strength, your courage, you flush your bile, clean off your mouth and face, pop a mint, take a swig out of your flask, and make your way to your first class.

~*~

By the ever popular lunch time, you have managed to clean your locker and pinpoint the culprit (an ashamed that a girl broke his nose, Jason Carver), but neither of you speak on it. You keep your head down, you focus on your school work, you take your Tylenol, and you sip on your vodka. Enough to keep an edge off, but not enough to send you down a despairing hole filled with regret and torment. You know you’re being stared at as soon as you hit the line to get your tray. It’s fake smiles and refusal to acknowledge it that gets you in search of an aisle, and hopefully out of sight. You aren’t so lucky…

“Hey, Y/N! Over here!” You hear an all too cheery voice belonging to Dustin Henderson. It halts you in your tracks, a wince causing a physical recoil.

It’s not his fault you and Eddie no longer have anything resembling a relationship, and he apparently has not told them, and they’ve not seen Jason Carver’s masterpiece.

Good.

What isn’t good is that Eddie is very much at your old table and you know it’s unavoidable. You wished you had borrowed some concealer for your under eyes, but it’s too late. There’s a grand staircase cloaked in invisibility beneath your feet, your stomach knotting in crushing vices, your cheeks stained with red. You walk to your former friend group, trying like hell not to side eye Eddie Munson. Keeping a steady focal point without blinking against your scratchy lower lids is damn near impossible. And guys are going to be guys—much to your chagrin. Gareth is drawing further attention where nothing needs to be, popping off with a, “Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”

“A week long bender,” Jeff chimes in.

Biting the inside of your cheek between your teeth, you shrug a shoulder. Better them having knowledge of your binge drinking celebration than knowing about how messed up you are.

Don’t look at Eddie. Is your mantra for today.

He, on the other two hands, is not prioritizing that same aspect.

“So what if I did? I know of about ten girls who can drink your asses under the table, myself included.” You smirk, gripping your tray’s edge.

“Been holding back on us?” Gareth is grinning from ear to ear. It eases your shouldered weight tremendously, breaking tension in your table’s ranks.

“You gonna have a seat or what?” Mike Wheeler interrupts, his hands flipping towards a desired target, one that you wish you could keep pretending you never knew.

Fuck it.

You really crave for some divine intervention to help you, because meeting those chocolate brown eyes that are distraught, angry, and rimmed red—your heart constricts to painful blows, windpipes crushed beyond speaking capabilities. Eddie’s been somewhere off planet earth with that kinda high, you remember seeing his demeanor that way only a handful of times, including this one. Maybe he does care? No, doesn’t matter, don’t go there. It’s over and done.

Still, that idiotic, massively moronic part that Eddie owns of you—it’s billowing hope. Eddie Munson dashes it in seconds flat.

“No.”

You glance away, jaw twitching to control an automatic quiver. Dustin is laughing it off as a joke, someone else asking why. Eddie reclines his legs in your empty chair, loud enough to get your attention back. He wants me to see.

“No traitors.” It’s a simplistic answer, aggressive, no room to argue.

Ever-the-curious-freshmen, Dustin and Mike peg their leader for questions. You halt it, tone breaking apart, fingers tucking into your shirtsleeve as you balance your lunch on one hand and wipe across raw flesh to clean fresh tears from your eyeline. That’s when Eddie does look away.

Coward.

“It’s okay, guys.” Is what you say.

“What’s going on?” Gareth asks.

“I won’t be around meetings or practices anymore, but I’m still here if anyone needs anything, okay? You know where my locker is, and where I live.” You pat yourself on the back for that robotic but truthful statement.

“Unless you’re sick of everyone else too…” His deep voice rumbles.

Like a deer in headlights— you’re frozen, a blinding rage of hurt and red hot anger pouring over you in a storm. You explode. Picking up the first thing in your sight, which happens to be on your plate—a glob of some chocolate goop (possibly a brownie)—it’s slung directly at your former best-friend’s crisp white Hellfire shirt. Your second cafeteria incident that, yet again, everyone notices. Eddie yelps, shouting out your name in brisk spits.

You further it, abandoning your food in a repeat of days ago, floating to his side and shoving him back two steps. Eddie stops his rapid shirt swipes and immediately presses his form into yours, chests smashed, food squishing through your top. His hair is frazzled from the humidity, his toffee colored irises slowly polishing into a thick black gloss of dilated pupils. He sucks his tongue against his teeth, swaying into you, not touching you with those hands, an air about him that is beginning to swarm your initial reaction and bend it over, fucking it into the next decade. He’s taller than you remember, but you latch onto your own, tasting that cigarette soaked breath, lips hovering over his, hot tears matting your lashes.

Whether it’s regarding his inability to respond to your reasoning for this whole situation, his lack of expression, your self-disappointment for something roused inside you at his huffing proximity, you crown him with a title off a jagged voice box, damp in her sorrows, just as Dustin steps between you two, gently prying. “You’re a fucking coward, Eddie Munson.”

Teachers are starting to flock in, and you shake your head, hand over your eyes briefly, before sprinting in strides from the room in search of a place to collapse.

~*~

If you had told yourself at the beginning of the school year that you’d be in a camaraderie with the girl’s bathroom—you would have laughed. And if your mind had convinced you otherwise, you’d have expected Eddie to be right beside you, arm around your shoulders, sharing his lunch, making stupid jokes, coming up with lame ideas to make you feel better, but in that endearing Eddie Munson kinda way. You let out a soft cry, giving up on that stinging beneath your lids. You’re a hot mess and the whole building probably knows how alone you really are now. When the outcasts cast you out, where else can you go?

Clenching onto the sides of the ceramic sink, bag slipping off your shoulder and onto the floor, you keep your head bowed between your shoulder blades, not noticing someone come in and approach you, a gentle set of fingers laying upon your shoulder. Through foggy vision you can make out the green colors of her uniform and her perfectly straight ponytail, her face seemingly concerned. Your laugh is exhaustion on steroids, expression bombarded with emotion. “Okay, what the fuck is next? A girl craves some independence and the whole school turns against her. Let me guess, your boyfriend sent you to get even? Why don’t I make it easy for you and you can call your friends in here, and… and—“

Great.

Your lungs start to burn, your ribcage pounding with an erratic heartbeat, throat feeling like it’s been dusted with a thick blanket of ash. You’re panicking in front of Chrissy Cunningham. That alone has you feeling more pathetic than ever before in your life, and it worsens your heaving sobs—broken and unguarded. Chrissy’s eyes are drinking you in, irises glossing over with tears of her own. She grasps your other shoulder and squeezes, not releasing her hold on you, her soft voice strong when she speaks, but gentle enough between the expanse of your shared airspace.

“One, two, three, four. Okay, now deep breath in, and release it for me, Y/N.” She’s actually calming you, keeping you steady on your feet, which feel as if they’re sinking into the flooring below like led weights.

“Chrissy…” You aren’t sure how to articulate, still alarmed and attempting to breathe with her.

“I’m right here. Just keep breathing and counting with me.” And you do. And that’s when it hits you.

She has experience with this mind numbing panic too. That otherworldly anxiety. You feel a connective pull towards the cheerleader—seeing—not this persona you’d imagined, but her calming features, her easy going manner towards you, how she lets you find your lifeline, but also lends you her own in case you need it. When your breathing slows, she gives you a look, a silent communication of question. You may be able to breathe a little easier now, but it doesn’t stop the weight of your situation from crashing down and demolishing what’s left of you.

“Can I… I’m gonna hug you, is that okay?” At this point, if she’s going to put a sign on your back you don’t care. You need the human connection, the comfort. You agree and your schoolmate takes you into a light grip, but folds her arms around you and lets you bury your cheek against her perfumed sweater.

You both stand in the embrace, no trace of awkwardness, a sense of kinship and knowing. It’s when you pull back that hint of a questionable concern with her, wiping your sore eyes with a hiss. She notices.

“Are you here because of Jason? I just need to know.”

“Jason was a dick, Y/N.” Her language shocks you, having only heard her be proper before.

You laugh, your first genuine giggle in days. It’s contagious, as she joins in, hip jutting against the sink. “No, I’m here on my own terms. I promise. I saw what happened with your friends…”

“Yeah, I can imagine how everyone must be amused right now.” You bite your lip, facing away.

Chrissy gives you a saddened smile, but attempts to reassure. “I know this is gonna sound incredibly lame coming from me, but you’re stronger than all this, Y/N. The way you’ve stood up for yourself these past several days… I admire it.”

You frown deeply, wondering if this is a trick, because no way is Chrissy Cunningham admiring someone like you.

“You admire a loser that can’t even manage her own newfound independence?”

“No,” she says with a pause, looking down at her French tip manicure, before facing your curious gaze once more. “I admire your ability to stand up for yourself, despite what everyone is saying or doing to you. It’s a good quality to have, one that many of us are afraid of, you know?”

There’s this hollow pain in her eyes and your continued recognition has you pulling her in for another hug—this time for her benefit, rather than yours.

“Looks like we’ve fallen into the cliché trap, Cunningham.” You grin, pulling back.

Chrissy tilts her head, curious. “What do you mean?”

“A freak and a cheerleader thinking the same as what their peers think, and getting each other totally wrong.”

Her sweet eyes light up, her head nodding. “That’s exactly it.”

You share a knowing smile, a newfound bond forming. Chrissy situates her small shoulder bag, pulling out a compact and tugging you by your sleeve. “C’mhere. Let me fix that.”

She takes a gentle hand, not rushing as she speckles your sore under eyes with her own stash of makeup. After she blends it with soft fingertips, she snaps the lid closed and places it back in her bag, turning you to the bathroom mirror, brushing some of your hair through, giving your back a rub. “Is that any better, Y/N?”

Your circles are mostly covered, puffiness disguised enough where you won’t be embarrassed. You look and feel much better, and you’re overwhelmed with gratitude for the blonde at your side. You incline yourself into a swivel, leaning in her direction. “Chrissy Cunningham, I think you’re one of the sweetest people I now kinda, sort of know.”

Her giggle is infectious, and she gives you another squeeze. You drop down to swoop your messenger bag into your arms, grabbing out a your notebook and a pen, scribbling your home phone on it, hesitating, before handing it over. “If you ever need to talk to someone about all the bullshit, whatever it is, consider me your new confidant.”

She holds the simple sheet paper as if it’s another lifeline and you’ve just given her a treasure. Going back into her own bag, she has a cute little pink embroidered stationary paper that she jots her number on, and uses a smiley face to dot the i in Chrissy. Seconds later, her friends and a group of other girls burst into the bathroom, gossip on their lips. You and Chrissy flash each other a secret smile, and you make another hasty retreat.

~*~

Eddie had to hear a bunch of shit from the guys, overly bearing questions sounded off by Henderson and Wheeler. The eventual revealing by a passerby group of cheerleaders about your specially decorated locker, had surprised him too. As if there’s not already a weighted dagger wedged into his ribcage, one interlocking into his heart muscle—he lost control with his bitter mouth again, and it fueled your temper. But deep down, deeper into those subconscious recesses, you both felt that ignition start, a kind of coercing heat that is waging an internal war in Eddie’s head. His sole reason for blocking you out and refusing to talk about anything with you in the woods.

Eddie Munson is in love with you. Eddie Munson needs to fuck you.

It’s something he’s always done—built walls, got high, stayed drunk, coped with humor, hid behind his guitar or his campaigns. And without his right hand woman, he feels naked, too vulnerable to all the bullshit he’s tried to keep out. And your absence has become a set course for his weakening concentration on anything that isn’t you. His ultimate warrior princess is also his Achilles heel. Your feelings in wanting to branch out, they scare Eddie.

His brain is flipping logic into thinking you are seeing what everyone else sees in him: freak, failure, piece of shit, a nobody, a criminal. He pushed you out before he could pull you back in—easy, abrupt. And it’s not just changing him—no—he could smell your vodka soaked breath across the table, see your eyes swollen and glazed—absent. For the first time in years you weren’t wearing your limited edition shirt (thanks to him), and Eddie isn’t sure why he expected you to still have his chain around your neck. It fucking hurts.

As the room slowly falls back into their daily routine, Eddie loses his appetite and leaves his herd behind, urgent to get the fuck outta this building, out of Hawkins. Hell, maybe even the country. Like you, however, Eddie Munson’s retreat isn’t one that is unscathed. In his urgency, he smacks straight into you, stumbling over his own clumsy ass feet, gripping your forearms to keep you both steady. He’s processed your scent before he even takes in your beautiful features.

Fuck…

You look less like you’ve been partying all weekend, but Eddie knows better. Your pupils are dilated to the bright overhead lights of the hallways, making your sclera more visible. It’s bloodshot red, lower lids swollen and tinged a rough crimson beneath the fresh makeup that Eddie now sees. He swallows and looks away, but he doesn’t let you go. His grip isn’t harsh, it’s simply what it’s always been with you two. Easy and sturdy, safe.

You’re the first to downcast your gaze, focusing more on your shoe wear than on Eddie. It kills him. Even through these notions, this fear, whatever anger you’re both harboring, it’s as if this whole damned school and everyone passing you two are mere bodies, Eddie Munson and Y/N Y/L/N floating, tethered. His stomach churns its lunch contents, teeth clenching tightly. You make a brisk dart off, but Eddie attempts to catch you, instead tugging too hard on your shoulder strap, causing your bag to dump and spread out its contents at his sneaker clad feet.

Eddie’s eyes are quick to see it before you realize. Shining underneath hallway lights, scattered amongst notebooks and pens, is a small flask. His brows perch, he crouches first, scooping it away from your jutting hands. Gareth’s words rewind and play on repeat in his head.

“Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”

The way his heart rate spikes, hostilely spitting that acid all over his lungs, battering his throat muscles with a pummeling storm. He’s already sure what he’ll smell if he presses the lid to his nostrils, but Eddie has to feed his anxious curiosity, unscrewing the cap with nervous hands, sniffing, shrugging off your grabs. It burns his mouth from its strength, his distraction giving you enough leeway to wrap your hands over his fingers and pull. Eddie locks your digits within his own, second thoughts gone. Against everything inside him he is getting angrier by the second, the anger masking itself, easier than being petrified and scared in front of you.

And Eddie is scared. Is he really so fucking stupid to think you weren’t at all affected by any of this?

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Your fingers sliding through his own, flood him, prickling every vein running beneath his skin, cutting off his blood flow—scorching.

~*~

Having Eddie’s hands on you again, his body so close, despite your shame at his discovery, it’s a feeling that comes more natural than breathing. You avoid his question, feeble grasping docked.

“Why do you have a flask full of fucking vodka?”

“Will you keep your voice down!” You hiss the words, finally breaking off him and retrieving the rest of your items on the scuffed up floor, and securing them back into your bag, Eddie holding back your liquor.

“Did you drive to school drinking this crap? Tell me you didn’t, Y/N, cause’ I swear to god—“

You chortle, a humorless boom smacking across your chest.

“Eddie, this faux best-friend act is getting old. Your on and off switch is enough to drive anyone to drastic measures. But don’t flatter yourself into thinking I’d be an idiot and drive drunk. Not even for you.”

His irises that are glossy with concern, they cave to dilating pupils, an animalistic rage priming them. “Oh, you have got to be the most clueless bitch alive, Y/N.” He steps towards you, frame towering slightly. You’re not afraid, never fearing if he’ll do something, because that is not Eddie, no matter what. But, you are very much dripping with rage at his words.

He pockets your flask in his left back pocket, rings clinking against it as he pats it for good measure. You try to dive around him, beneath his arm, but he swoops in on his own, using that strength for his slender frame, literally scooping you into a half bring-away, only discarding you back onto your feet once you’re both outside. You try to shove at him, palms resting on his stained club shirt. The bell has rang to signal your free period, but you don’t give two fucks, giving up and being the one to leave.

“Who’s the coward now, huh? You’re gonna walk away from me when I call you on your shit, Y/N?”

You spin on your heel, dirt and gravel specks crunched beneath your step. “I thought I was a clueless bitch, Eddie? A traitor? Or, your slut.” You scoff, crossing your arms.

Guilt briefly flickers across his features, but he shuts it down tenfold. “Just because we’re fighting doesn’t mean I want you to destroy your fucking liver or your life. Jesus Christ, you really think I’m that big of an asshole?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore!” You fling your hands into the air. “One minute we’re at each other’s throats, the next you’re up my ass. I don’t know what to do here, Eddie.”

“Thought you craved some individuality and independence.” Though there’s meant to be flare behind the words, Eddie’s tone has splintered across each word, voice breaking apart. Your guts sink into your ass, as does a particularly pointed swallow that stabs at your jugular.

“Didn’t say I wanted to be completely independent from my best-friend.” Your own response is gentle, voice soaked with impending emotion.

Fuck. Stupid fucking tears burning again. Not right now.

Eddie’s attention snaps back on you, proximity closing in. His jaw clenches, he moves it from side to side with a closed mouth, sniffing, whistling air through a wet breath. “Feels like you’re leavin’ me and I can’t do anything to stop it…”

It makes sense suddenly. A catapult of truth slamming right into your chest, spreading throughout your body.

He thinks I’m leaving him. That I want to leave him.

As if the last seventy two hours haven’t happened, better yet, as if they haven’t mattered in the grand scheme of things—you’re the one that meets Eddie, reaching to push that curly hair from his eyes, his head downcast and posture sullen. His brown eyes are brimmed with tears that spill over his lash line, a permanent frown creased between his brows, mouth red and spit slick. Those freckles on his nose are suddenly very prominent to you. You’ve never seen Eddie Munson this vulnerable. Your heart shatters, the ache so physically strong that you have to remain close to him to hold on and find that strength again.

How could you have gotten this so monumentally wrong? Maybe if you’d have expressed what you meant more instead of feeding off Eddie’s anger. His communication and yours both need nurturing, but your sudden shift in mood must’ve made him feel like you wanted to abandon him, not just do things for yourself. He may not realize that yet, but you do. And it fucking sucks.

“Eddie. I’m sorry.” It’s all you can say in the seconds that your heart heaves into your throat.

He shakes that shaggy mane. “Don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me, especially you.” He backs away from you and you see his entire expression crumble, tears spilling onto his cheeks.

That pain drowns your throat, seeing him cry because of your lack of explanation and mutual avoidance. You chase after him, running around to block his view, unable to let him go, gripping onto his waist beneath his jacket to keep him planted. Another familiarity. He tenses beneath your touch before relaxing.

“Eddie, will you please listen to me? I think I know what’s going on now.”

“And look who is the one flipping her emotions this time.”

“Because, I… Eddie, I—“

“What lame ass line do you want me to buy, Y/N? You think I’m not used to worthless promises or idiotic reassurances? Yeah, good.” His sentence is fragmented, voice rough and breaking apart on each word. “You know I still care about you, but I don’t need you to lie to me, you don’t owe me a damn thing, I promise you—“

You press a finger to his quivering lips, halting him. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, a pause in the universe, your legs heavy, fingertip stroking along the plumpness of your best-friend’s full, lower lip. Eddie’s chest is moving up and down swiftly, tongue against his teeth, that warning look. You fail to heed it and Eddie’s hands tremble at his sides before he gives up and cups the sides of your face, bringing your foreheads together. His lips part to speak, your finger still on them. “Think we’re in trouble here.”

You can do nothing but nod as his declaring statement, inclining your head further, nose nudging his own. It doesn’t feel as if you’re standing any longer, every mean thing that Eddie has said, every disproportionate attempt of yours to communicate—obliterate, shrouding you both in the process. His breath is hot as his mouth opens and he sucks your finger inside, tongue licking its tip, biting the digit between those milky white teeth. It sends that throbbing nudge, snapping between your thighs, making you arch into your best-friend. You whisper his name and his fingers move along your jaw, across your ear, sliding through your hair and rubbing a pathway to your necks’ nape, sending an army of goosebumps across your flesh, the coolness of his rings stimulating your skin.

“Yeah, you feelin’ it too?” Your lids flutter closed, Eddie using his thumb pad to brush the corners of your lashes, signally for you to open them. “Didn’t say you could stop looking at me, did I, sweetheart?”

You grind against him, unable to stop. Your last several days, everything between you both is on hold, these buried urges able to finally win out. This dominant side of Eddie Munson has you an inward and outwardly quickening pile of mush and hormones, of fucking need. Eddie about loses his cool when you obey him, pupils blown, mouth looking parched and in need of his kisses. He leans, walls starting to slip, resolve crumbling, his pouting mood long gone.

Years of built up tension and confusion, being rightfully by one another’s sides, it all comes apart, the seams, begging to be repaired into what it has to be now.

You envelop his hold on you, hands sliding into slips beneath his jacket, around his waist, tracing over his back, before dipping under his armpits and grasping his shoulders, knuckles pushed down by his leather jacket. One more step and he’ll kiss you. He’s closing a gap, no more breaches, you tapping his shoulders right down to the blades in encouragement. It’s parted mouths hovering over one another, cigarettes and vodka, school lunch and weed, it’s—

“Hey, guys! Higgins is so pissed off right now… After that shit went down in the caf, he’s ready to expel you, Y/N! Pretty fuckin’ sure.” You hear Gareth approach, and just like, Eddie releases you.

You have to steady yourself, want simmering into a slumber in your belly, not yet gone, but still reminding you where it lives. Your glare is directed at your mutual friend. Eddie, feeling as if he’s been doused with ice cold water, and the moment is shattered, you see those walls rebuilding rapidly, and she shrugs off your hand, leaving you and Gareth, and that slickness that has collected in your panties.

~*~

You aren’t sure just exactly what Eddie is feeling, but you’re very aware of what you are. So driving to his place once you know Wayne has left for the night shift—it’s a no brainer. You’d debated bringing Eddie your box of treasures, even your necklace, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Maybe, maybe your best-friend doesn’t want you to…?

Want.

A dynamic shift in your relationship, or what it used to be. You can barely sit still as you wrack your brain through all the levels of hazy blurs. So much has happened in three days, but… today, with Eddie nearly kissing you on the mouth, and you nearly grinding against him in the Hawkins High parking lot—yeah, you two have to talk about all of this. As you squirm in your seat, hands tightening around the wheel, that approaching trailer park sign signals your arrival to his residence. You can’t stop the way your heartbeat feels as if it’s ping ponging around in your throat, or that anxious twitch of your mouth’s corner—forget even attempting to deny your cascading memories of the way his chocolate irises wore an expression unlike anything you’ve ever seen on Eddie Munson.

His trailer comes into your sights, that tickle swooping your guts and holding them hostage. You swallow a thick ball of anxiety, parking next to his van, cutting your engine. The lights are all on and you’ve got no excuse to chicken out. It’s your year too, right? Fucking fuck it.

With your keys clutched in your palm, you make your way to Eddie’s trailer, rasping on his door lightly. You don’t hear his music blaring, so he might be reading, planning a campaign, writing some music he’d mentioned wanting to practice with the guys soon, get a feel for its sound—just last week. You have given about three octaves of knocks and are about to give up, head pressed the door, thinking he was just lost in lust earlier, and maybe you’d fucked up on your end beyond repair. Exhausted by the stampeding pain that brings your insides, you flip the Munson’s spare key off your key ring and unlock the door. A bold move—albeit—a very stupid one.

That familiar scent of Eddie and Wayne’s shared carton of cigarettes hits your nose, along with the leftovers from dinner you see sitting out on the stove. Your cookies, which have been devoured, are missing their note. You panic, briefly thinking Eddie probably trashed it, only to come back from that brink seconds later. It’s not what you’re here for. You glance at the couch and it’s empty, not even Eddie’s usual indent on the cushion is there.

Swinging your keys from your pointer finger, you peek down the small hallway to Eddie’s closed door, light spilling out underneath. He could be sleeping, possibly ignoring you, or he snuck out the back door…

Your feet make an echoing squeak across the trailer’s flooring structure, your fingers twisting the knob and pushing, pausing, deciding to go ahead. If he wants you to leave then you’ll go, if he’s asleep, you’ll go, if he left… You can’t fathom that thought, another ignorance that you partake in. You aren’t sure exactly what you expected, but seeing your best-friend’s tallish frame, with his back facing you, lean leg propped atop his mattress, right arm bent at a very clear angle, his left propped on one of his many amps he’d apparently moved since you’d been here last—is sure as hell NOT it. Eddie’s curly hair ruffles and is jostled across his shoulders with each movement his arm makes, his delicious ass clenching as his body thrusts into his rhythm, the outline of his chain on his perspired neck and damp strands of dark hair—clear. You don’t have to hear the thick, slick and wet stroking to know what he’s doing to himself.

You cross an ankle over the other, squeezing your legs together tightly, trying to bounce on the balls of your heels to get relief. Your fingers white knuckle his banged up door handle, your mouth parting. Whether it’s that bond you two share, or your very visible labored breathing, Eddie’s shoulder blades pinch together, his motions abruptly cut. He turns as if caught doing something he shouldn’t be—definitely something you aren’t prepared to handle. It’s like your mouth is speaking for you, eyes in a trance, enslaved to your lustful abiding.

Fucked out, blown up pupils shave off the color of your irises, your tongue gliding across your teeth, that take a turn to sink into your bottom lip, your toes curling in your shoes. You feel hot, body battered in melting flames that won’t cease, won’t let you get in a normal burst of air flow. You know without having to fix your posture that you’ve made a mess between your legs, panties soaked to hell—completely ruined. You’re honest to fuck not sure if you can make it out of here in an upright position, that painfully strong ache tackling your cunt, breaking off your common sense, leaving you Eddie-drunk. Helping yourself to a swiping look between his legs, he’s still got a ring clad hand wrapped around a very generous girth—shiny—a length that leaves saliva pooling on your tongue’s tip.

His chest is slick with sweat, tattoos glossed beneath, nipples hard from the cool air let into his bedroom. Which, you note, is really fucking hot, and the window is steamed up. Your eyelids flutter in rapid blinks to help you reign yourself in, but all you see are glimpses of Eddie’s fist around himself, that creamy and swollen head, full balls on either side, trimmed curls at the base of his shaft. You want to die. And oh, what a sweet and sinful death that would be.

“Mhm… fuck.” You say through the gap between your panting mouth, words take the opportunity to bust free, joining a high pitched whimper.

Eddie’s chocolate eyes are completely black, leaving no room for anything else but purely raw desire. They widen, a sharp heave in his inhaling chest, abdomen flexing as he holds himself tightly. When you don’t move Eddie takes the initiative, slowly approaching, a softness there beneath the want and knowing. He reaches your space, still giving you enough, but you’re able to still feel that radiating body heat. Neither of you speak, because what is there to say right now?

You’d be a pleading mess of profanities, apologizes, and begging to be taken and used.

Thankfully, Eddie makes another move before you. His spare hand joins your own on the door knob, fingers brushing your knuckles, encouraging, giving you one more opportunity if you’re in distress or uncomfortable. You hook onto his offer and you surprise you both by finding something to say after all, throat parched, yet still damp with wanton rasp. “Start touching yourself again, Eddie. Please?” Fuck, well there’s a beg.

Eddie, assuming you want a show, nerves being dipped in lava and left to forever sizzle and smoke—gives in, both of you shutting his door and closing the two of you off from the outside world. He doesn’t wait for you to back away, pushing his hips to a rise, his cock gliding through his closed fist. You let him lean over you, frame against his door, watching his legs spread to widen his stance, obeying your plea. He almost asks, but assumes it would be too hopeful if you would want to touch yourself in front of him too. You’re out of your mind, common sense obliterated for all eternity, watching your bestfriend practically pin you to the door and fuck himself in front of you.

Those sounds you’ve imagined, pictured, they’re even more pronounced in person. Some low enough that it’s a stifling whimper, a needy sobbing. If you don’t do something about the gnawing throbbing between your thighs, it’ll be total combustion. There’s an empowerment that winds itself around a pulsating set of nerves in one’s decision to masturbate in front of their best-friend. That coolness works itself in your palms, your fingers tossing your keys over and onto Eddie’s dresser, toeing off your shoes, his eyes steamy in their grasp on your every move.

You’d wished you had brought your camera to photograph his expression when you walk over to where he stood in front of his bed, turning to face him, your fingers undoing your jeans and the zipper, a resounding echo in the room, Eddie’s tongue poking out on his upper lip, he holds himself around the base, the urgency to fuck his hand as you take your seat on his mattress and scoot with your back to the wall, hips lifting to help you pull off your jeans and panties. You struggle momentarily, but neither of you are saying a word, gazes steady and unwavering.

Discarding your clothing with a soft thump onto his floor, you’re heartbeat thumps in your throat, ribcage taking an unsteady hammering of its resounding drumming. You heed Eddie’s silent command to continue, agreeing to this turning point between you two. Your thighs fall open and that sticky want strings to your swollen folds, glistening in the creases of your thighs, your cunt sopping wet. You’re dripping, and Eddie isn’t missing it when your arousal finally does drizzle from your neglected pussy and onto his bedsheets. You shift to get comfortable, hand cupping yourself, immediately smothered in your own juices, legs falling into a drop, toes finally able to curl without the barrier of your shoes, bunching Eddie’s sheets.

Eddie watches you from where he can see, still eager to be closer, but unable to stop himself from stroking along his length, teasing that vein that runs alongside his cock. You do it again, rubbing your palm up and down your lips, a crude squelch causing Eddie to almost black out, and you shiver. He releases himself, heavy and hot between slim thighs, and he’s moving. He puffs out a gravelly hiss from pursed lips, stalking towards you and giving a cat like crawl across his own bed, planting himself shoulder to shoulder with you to your left. He must be feeling the overwhelming change that is occurring, as he reaches for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.

You gravitate towards your hand, fingers slipping through your slickness, your head bowing in embarrassment. Eddie grips your chin and tilts you his way, shaking his head, that same hand dropping to your thigh and lifting to pull up and to the side. And he looks. He fucking memorizes you between your legs with these little mewling coos of appreciation that cement themselves into your subconscious. You do the same, helping yourself to an up close and personal view of what he’s been hiding.

Eddie leans forward and cups the nap of your neck, his other hand taking your wrist and removing it from your self-touches, shushing your protesting whine. He brings it up to his mouth, which is hovering close to yours, your own fingers pressed against your lips, and he licks a straight stripe up your creamy covered palm, humming underneath his breath as he does so. You want to slap him and ride him on every available surface in this trailer. You’re the one to speak, having to.

“Eddie…” It’s a meek little trail-off.

Eddie lets go of your wrist and uses that hand to pull his cock off his stomach, a wet patch left behind in his happy trail. He still doesn’t let your neck go, his fingertips tapping an invisible beat, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He’s laughing, tufts of air settling across your mouth. You narrow your gaze, moving to shut your legs, Eddie’s hand quickly preventing the action, stroking the meat of your inner thigh. “Only fair if I’m exposed, sweetheart.”

“But… you’re laughing.” And it hits you then, why he’s really chuckling in that Eddie Munson way. It’s an incredulous and mind boggling turn of events. Best-friends that broke up when they were never together, now side by side and in a very compromising situation.

You grin and falter into his embrace, your hand working its way into a wind around his neck, taking sweaty strands in scoops between your fingers, his pick chain draped across your knuckles. Eddie licks across his bottom lip, tapping your hips as he moves, your hands falling, and sprawls his legs into a propped spread, cock neglected and flushed, much like the rest of his skin, that you’ll die if you don’t put your marks on. He’s motioning for you to turn in a slow facing position in front of him, and that’s how you end up—vulnerable, so fucking vulnerable. He’s muttering words, huddled and unintelligible, reaching out and tugging you to him by your ankles, stopping, resting, eyes dark as they do a once over to gauge your mental stability. When you don’t protest, palms splaying out to keep yourself upright behind you, Eddie lets his legs flatten against his sheets, a smirk pattering his lips, indenting its knowing presses beside his mouth.

His exhale catches on a ragged breath, a passionate declaration signing off on what’s about to occur, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he pulls you close, your ass resting on his hairy thighs, waiting, held, his arm wrapping around your lower back and lifting you completely into that ink splattered, silk-slick chest, his skin sticking to your long sleeved t-shirt, ruining it with sex-soaked perspiration. You think that there’s nothing—no—you know that in this entire world, no matter what, that whatever will happen to you is never going to compare to the moment when Eddie’s maneuvering hands glide your wet cunt over his cock, using your drenching heat as his own personal lubricant. Your ankles lock around his waist, no choice from the close band that your best-friend has re-tethered you to him with, leaving no room or space where you’re not touching or breathing in the other. Your arms curl around Eddie’s neck, hands draped down his back as you help yourself to pinching and clawing the flesh beneath, relishing every little grumble and groan off his pretty lips. Your face takes solace in his neck, nosing your way through his curly hair, nose bumping his chain to lift so that your mouth can claim him.

“Fuck.” His throat constricts around a swallow, your teeth sinking into a piece of Eddie’s flesh and biting, releasing, lips closing over that angry spot to soothe, tongue tasting salt, licking it off, indulging.

He lets your have your way with his neck, a particularly harsh slap landing on your ass in following of your mouth on his jugular, letting your tongue following that curvature into his jawline. You don’t stop his wandering hands, you don’t dare fight off his vice grip on the globes of your ass, his kneading, using as them leverage to place you right where he wants you. You let him take control, an unspoken agreement, a having to have. Your head falls back as Eddie rolls his hips beneath, rocking his lap, solid presses that drag his fat cock over your embarrassingly wet pussy, scattering your thick arousal and smearing it across his happy trail, getting caught in that patch of curls at the base of his shaft. You’re dripping all over him, quite literally. Caught on a trapped hum, hung in its hisses between your clenched teeth, you croon into Eddie’s neck, your stomach tightening, that velvety drag of his dick through your swollen folds making your lids flutter closed, colors dotting in their dances—translucent.

You aren’t sure where to move your hands, comfortable with having them shred Eddie’s back and empty out the past few days of frustration and desperation. Eddie encourages, palming handfuls of your ass, creating a cresting twist, a thigh trembling rub of sopping wet desire. He’s merely whimpering, appreciating, not overly vocal until his swollen head catches your neglected clit, and his head drops back, fingers pinching so tightly into your skin that it burns.

“Oh, shit. Dammit, baby.”

You’re simpering on a series of whimpers, agreeable and speechless. Eddie is feeding off it. “Yeah? You needing this too? Little clit feels so good rubbing on my dick, sweetheart. You want me to do it again?”

When you’re not immediately able to be vocal, Eddie pulls back a little, shoving his hand between your thighs and drags his rings directly through your arousal, coating them in a glittering shine. His first real touch where you need him the most. You both inhale sharply. It’s the pain from the cool metal of his jewelry that makes it feel so fucking good. He curses, telling you how messy you’re being, flinging his hand in your sights, dragging you in a pry off of his neck, holding your jaw and flashing his knuckles.

“See what you did, messy little angel. You gotta clean em’ now for me.”

His eyes are so fucking demolished, brown crushed beneath a midnight sea of black and insatiable attraction. You’re mewling, tongue lolling out, licking that metallic onto your tongue, sloppily sloping around his knuckles, lips suckling what your tongue can’t catch, your own taste fresh off your mouth. That’s when Eddie brushes a calloused thumb across your bottom lip, tugging it down to expose your teeth, and he brings your lips to his, a feral groan stealing your breath, sharing your juices in your first kiss. It’s a shift in the energy you share, a no going back, no running away, a fate sealed. Eddie loses all control and flips you off his lap, pinning you beneath him, kissing you with such feverish vigor that your hand tangles into his messy curls, and you pull, hard.

His tongue licks your lips open, greedily removing what’s left of your taste that remains. It’s noisy and nasty in the expanse of his small bedroom—diabolically sinful. One hand caresses your throat’s expanse, the other dropping down with a snapped wrist between your thighs, palm smacking your cunt, a guttural groan vibrating from his mouth into your own. Saliva strings on the break away, Eddie’s gaze switching to watch the hand on your cunt, out of it.

“Your pussy always this wet, baby? Or is it just for your best-friend?”

“Only for you, Eddie. Always you.”

Fallen into the depths of satisfaction, Eddie permits a slender digit to drag down your slit, taking that thick honey with it, a squelch echoing in the room when his finger wiggles its way inside of you. You clamp around him, chest heaving with shaky breaths.

“Jesus Christ. You’re gonna drown my dick when you let me fuck you, aren’t you?”

You’re incoherently babbling, tapping the hand that’s on your throat, hungry for it. “Tighter.”

Eddie’s brow raise is comical, a surprise coating his features. “So miss Y/N likes it rough? Never woulda guessed.”

You gulp a pump of air that vibrates across his hold, trying to gain more depth from his finger. It’s moving in exploration of your softly wet walls, an excess of arousal being pressed out upon that squish. Eddie tightens his hold on your throat, before he taps his fingers to your jugular and releases, hand toppling down your side and caressing, bringing. “Fuck, my best-friend’s got such a perfect little pussy. S’ made to be destroyed and used.”

You’re nodding so hard that the motion causes a cracking pop in your neck, Eddie laughing that noise under a cute breath. He’s thick with it, wiggling in a second finger and causing you drop your hands back behind you and push into the sensation, chasing, hunting it.

“Desperate to get away from me all week, now look at you. What a whore.”

Eddie has a mouth on him, something you’d always wondered about in your daily daydreams and nightly fantasies. As vocal as when he’s singing with his band. He’s saying words to you, snapping your attention, you’re whining as his fingers leave your cunt, and he’s pulling you into him so hard your lips split apart, cushioning his cock, cradling him in that overwhelming slick. He must not have meant for that action to cause it, as he jumps when you do, this feral look flickering behind those heated orbs. You know… it’s time.

Eddie is barely able to stand, clumsily bringing you with him by a laced grip in your hands. He gets you upright and you’re dizzy, his hands taking purchase on your shirt (the only remaining piece of clothing on you), and rips it with gritting teeth and anger, as if he’s pissed it’s not the club shirt, or sickened with himself for destroying yours—you’re not sure. Spit pools at the corners of your mouth as you let him tear off your tattered tee and yank your bra down, impatiently yanking the clasp apart and discarding it, helping himself to your tits, closing those plush lips over a nipple. Your hand wraps around his throbbing cock, fingers barely touching around the width, squeezing him—tugging. His hips stutter and he whines against your breast, teeth biting the flesh with a harsh precision.

Your other hand works its way through his wet curls and massages his scalp, tenderly altering in beckoning strokes, ones that switch off into root tugging pulls. Eddie’s hands keep your breast cupped, switching off to the other, whilst you dip lower and fondle his balls, letting your pinky drop off and scratch into his inner thigh. He’s doing that humming thing underneath his fucked out tone again, and you’re focusing your attention on his cock, thumb pad stroking that weeping slit, spreading it around and over that vein, enchanted with how it causes a thin bright shine over him, your own cream matted into the curls at the base of him, pathed up his stomach. His mouth leaves your chest and those big hands grip your cheeks, both of you watching as you jack him with a sticky tug.

Fuck me.

“Who’s the whore for his bestfriend now, Eds? You gonna admit that half the shit I’ve done this week has gotten your dick so hard you can’t decide what you’ve hated me for more,” You say, pausing to twist your grip, making him fold into your holding hand, “my smart mouth or how much you need this.”

Your powering dominance is short lived, hand falling off his erection, with Eddie kneeing you into a shove until your back collides with his desk, his arm reaching around to push most of its contents off and onto the floor, not caring where any of it goes. He nudges your thighs apart and slots his lean frame between, thumb catching the corner of your mouth, his instruction clear, yet awaiting your consent to cross this no back-stepping boundary. “M’ gonna fuck you right here, and you’re goin’ to watch me take you, Y/N.”

You’re pretty sure you’re gonna pass out at any given moment.

“I’m gonna watch you, Eddie.” You agree, zoning out and sprinting after your pleasure.

“Good girl.” Eddie breaks briefly, mouth on your shoulder, hand winding your hair around his fist and tugging it back so hard that the ache inside of you becomes an inferno. He finds the underside of your chin, voice honey-hot. “Because you’re not leaving this room until there’s a puddle of me running back out of your cunt.”

You launch forward so fast that Eddie falls into you, chest smashing against your breasts, your lips crashing into his for a brutally intimate kiss. You sink your teeth into his bottom lip and tug, biting down so hard you taste copper—licking it up and making Eddie’s cock jump. His ring covered hand attaches itself to your throat and he drags you off your prop against the desk, spinning you around and securing you to it, those hairy thighs pressing into you, wet cock so close to where you need him the most. His hand wraps around your hair again and lifts your gaze to that small opening in the mirror where posters and his most prized possession hangs. You’re flushed and soaked with sweat, mouth swollen and streaked with red from biting into Eddie’s plump lip, your pussy dripping thick strings of your creamy essence, slowly slithering in dangles from your pussy and onto the floor.

“You’re so fucking messy, Y/N. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, baby?” Eddie is like the devil on your shoulder, and you, you’re his angel of eternal damnation.

You’re about to beg, but Eddie saves you the trouble, his fingers tapping in tips down your spine, caressing, stroking, before they spread your lips apart and dip inside, palm flat. “Should fuckin’ split you open, do it raw. Cum so deep inside that you end up pregnant with my baby and have no choice but to always think of me, be around me.”

Though there’s a tease behind his passionate words, there’s this primal exclamation that overtakes you and you clamp down on his fingers. A series of fast paced images are vivid in your mind. Your tummy swollen and breasts heavy, Eddie having you bent over like this—one hand on your belly, the other on your throat, feeling your pulse galavant beneath his touch.

“Y/N… Fuck, sweetheart.” He’s so fucked in his descending tone that the depth is gruff and tipping off his diaphragm, you imagine. He presses his cheek against your own, chin resting on your shoulder as you drink each other in, in the mirror’s expanse, Eddie’s tone weak. “You really willing to carry my kid?”

You meet his eyes in the cluttered mirror, nodding, a softness carving out permanent residence in your features. It’s a topic you’d never shared with anyone else, never banked too much on thinking about, but beyond the idea of how hot this all is, you can’t imagine a scenario like this that doesn’t involve Eddie Munson. Vulnerable and barely above a brisk whisper, you’re answering him with, “Yeah, Eds. Want a family with you.”

At your admission, he lets his hand go in languid thrusts. You groan and let your head shift, but Eddie is jerking you back to stare into the glass, both of you panting and on the cusp of an out of body experience. It causes you to grin, licking your lips as your best-friend pumps those experienced digits to cause a purposeful squelch, his rings clinking together. His hard cock is pressed between his own stomach and your back, that pre-cum pooling onto your lower back and smearing in streaks down your ass. You’ve had more than enough teasing and you’re well aware that Eddie has too.

His look briefly falters, turning to mouth at your chin, a silent question. It’s you who uses your words, or rather, trembles in your feeble attempt. “Eddie, just put your cock inside me, or I swear I’ll—“

He’s smirking wildly at your slack-jawed expression when his fingers slide out of you and stick together with your cum, to which he helps himself to and coats his cock, then lines himself up and presses the thick head into your opening, leaning down to bite at your shoulder and leave an exposed imprint. Your legs feel like jello and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. He’s going to ask you to beg, and you’re an all in willing participant. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t. He inhales sharply, you hold your breath, and both of you watch him sink into your slick and soft cunt, inch by inch, until his balls rest against the globes of your cheeks.

You’re still holding your breath, releasing it when you feel him sigh, grip on your hair loosening a little, too caught up in the fact that he’s where he belongs, after so much time doing without this. Your legs are about to buckle, jerking, toes curling against the carpeted floor, overwhelmed by everything that’s happened, and by your best-friend’s cock throbbing in your aching pussy. “E-Eds…?” It’s a pathetic cry of a question.

Eddie’s brows pinch together, sweat beaded between. He grips your jaw and his fingertips tap you back to meet his mouth, hovering over your lips. “S’ okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” He briefly drops the playful gimmick, reassuring you that he’s right here with you.

It’s more than enough to have you arching back into him, a brash pummeling of his hips that sends you into the dresser, having to reach out and catch yourself. Eddie is quick witted, gripping your wrists with one hand and pinning them behind your back, stepping with you in toe, elongating his arm to snatch those handcuffs on his wall, that cold metal biting into your wrist, that dull noise presenting itself as the cuffs lock you into place, Eddie gripping onto the chains’ excess expanse, using it as a leverage. A sliver of a chalky moan trickles off your kiss-swollen lips, appreciative. The way Eddie is manhandling you has you so fucking euphoric that you’re sure you’ll be in a comatose state before either of you can cum. Your best-friend’s large hand finds purchase in your hair again, drawing his hips back, the other on the chain of the cuffs—steadying himself into a rhythm, riding you like all that matters is your destruction and his ultimate ownership.

Eddie Munson has owned you since the very moment that you two met.

The way he’s executing such precise and rough thrusts, making sure you’re high on the bring up, toes pressing into the carpet, that you’re stuffed full of his fat cock until it hurts, twitching in overstimulation, sore and fluttering walls eager to be soaked in everything he has to give you, that you are taking in every inch, catching every ridge, leaving you a shambled, panting mess, in pieces only being put back together again when Eddie will allow your release. His hair is tickling your shoulder blades, his fingers leaving the cuffs to press into your mouth and curl over your tongue, relishing in how you gag around the digits. You’re weak, so fucking weak for him, and he knows it.

“Can’t wait to hear you gag on my cock, Y/N. If you have trouble with these bad boys?” He puts an emphasis, wiggling his fingers against your tongue, giving them a secondary push to over extend your gag reflexes, his dick twitching inside you.

You bite down on his fingers, sucking them in, accepting his challenge, willing it to happen. His balls slap into your ass, heavy and hot, every movement causing the metal to rut into the skin of your wrists. He’s got a steady tempo going, alternating it by dipping his hips to bring you with him, letting you nearly collide with your chest flush to his desk. He reaches up and shoves that poster back by peeling tape, revealing more of your fucked out forms. Your eyes widen at your disheveled and unrecognizable appearance, Eddie using your cuffed hands as reigns. Riding you so hard that you can’t breathe anything but his hot air curling around the shell of your ear.

“Dammit, you are such a good girl for me, Y/N. Always pictured you takin’ my cock, but you’re not even crying yet, just taking what I give you.”

Yet… Fuck me running.

Your scalp is tingling with a prickling crowd of flames from his harsh grip, his other hand reaching to smack your ass, using some mechanism on the cuffs—albeit—struggling with his spit soaked fingers that were just in your mouth, to unlatch them and discard them at your feet, and he watches the flesh of your ass cheek redden and jiggle beneath his biting palm. You fist your fingers into a strewn pair of his blue denim jeans left on the desk top, dipping your forehead down and arching your back, trying to look between your own legs from this new angle to see Eddie’s cock cradled in your puffy lips. He tuts at your unsuccessful action, forcing you back into watching him doing his hard work—the hardest he’s worked at anything (sans his band or the campaigns, if he’s being honest with himself)—to make this unforgettable for you. He hits that spot located inside, the one you have to strain an arm to barely graze, and you lose all coherent capabilities.

“Eddie… that’s, oh my god, oh FUCK. Right there!”

Eddie’s throat crumbles under a weak pant, which ends up coming out as a whimper. He remains firm, however, still using your hair to keep you right where he wants you, his other hand reaching around to pet his own shaft as he slides out just enough to make you wetter.

“Yeah, baby? That spot gonna make somethin’ happen for you?”

You don’t answer, mumbles and babbling gibberish. He shakes that precious head of his, curls tickling your back and shoulders, a sigh breaking free. “Sorry, sweetheart. Can’t believe we’re doin’ this in front of you. Both my girls right here with me, one of them at my fuckin’ mercy.” Your attentions snap over your shoulder and you see Eddie looking at his fucking guitar, that is one of the only things remaining on the mirror. You gape, but aren’t surprised in the slightest.

He continues on, pretending he doesn’t see your partial seethe. “Makin’ a mess all over me, but I bet you like to see it too, don’t you?” He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, still talking to the inanimate object. “Both my sweethearts are such sluts for their owner.”

You can’t help that rattle that clamps around your bones and slices through your spinal cord, seizing your abdomen, right down into your cunt. Owner? You have zero time to warn him, ask if you can, alarms unprepared, skin slapping on skin, his taste on your mouth, his breath on your flesh, that slippery glide that has cum running down your thighs, and it’s a sudden wave crashing over your insides and drowning them in your painfully interstellar-esque orgasm. Your eyes burn with tears as you watch your best-friend feel what’s happening, realizing. He’s covered in your release, and instead of being mad, he is influencing you like the little devil that he can be, plump lip pressing to your ear lobe with one continuous command. “That’s it. C’mon, Y/N. Drench my dick.”

You wish you could bottle the feeling of your first orgasm with Eddie Munson, your best-friend—forever. Finding yourself growing into that vulnerability that comes with the high, you seek to find solace in Eddie’s arms, whimpering at the overstimulation of his thick cock. With that connection still in tact, Eddie is spinning you around, dick sliding out with a messy mixture of arousals covering you both—his member completely doused in your cream, painting the trimmed curls at the base of his shaft with even more of you, slicking back some more of that happy trail. You want to be embarrassed, but as he’s red faced and struggling to breathe, you know that there’s no need to be. He steers you back onto the bed, falling easily between your spread thighs, drawing them up and around his waist.

He presses his forehead into your own, kissing each corner of your mouth, rings circling in dusting sweeps on the apex of your thighs. His voice is a shivered whisper. “Fuck, baby. You okay?”

There’s words on your tongue, Eddie’s taste on your mouth, things you’ve known for years, but are unsure if Eddie has, or if this is something he needs because he’s afraid you’ll abandon him, but that he doesn’t feel what you do. Your head is spinning and Eddie brushes sweaty strands of hair off your forehead, taking his cock through your swollen folds, pressing that spongey head into your clit—both of you crying out. “Y/N, m’ right here. Care to join me?”

And god help you, the way that you look at him. Really allow yourself to see him this way—unabashed—it stirs all those feelings Eddie has bottled down since forever. You press your thumb into his mouth, your other hand sliding down to grip onto him, gliding your hand back and forth, relishing in how his abdomen tenses, muscles flexing, body gravitating towards whatever you’re willing to bestow. He doesn’t let you touch him much longer, taking what your hand isn’t around and guiding it back into your cunt, that scrumptious burn brimming you, making your thighs drop open, back arch, only to tighten your ankles around him, digging your heels into his ass. He suckles your fingertip into his mouth, licking the digit in until it’s down to the knuckle.

Your head presses sideways, cheek on his pillow, inhaling his shaving cream and that spicy scent. He pauses his movements, making you frown in displeasure. He lets go of your spit tainted finger, gripping your chin, a possessive fire overcoming him. His irises remain completely black, putting you deeper into that comatose trance of agonizing sin. “I want you to fucking say it, Y/N.”

You start a beginning questionnaire, Eddie shaking his head and pressing in harder on your chin, fingers splaying across your jaw, rings pinching your chin in the most delightfully painful of ways. “Say you want me, tell me you fucking need me. That you’re not tired of me, and that you’re proud to be the freak’s slut.”

Your hands wind around his back and you sink your nails in as hard as you can, bearing down on him, sucking him in deeper, both of you in a state of no return. His hand tickles down from your face and grips your neck. “Still sick of me, baby?” He situates your gaze, lifting his hips to a raise so that you can see where you’re connected. You’re inconsolable, that fire already blazing your gut, turning every sense into nothingness.

When Eddie starts back up again, he slams himself into you so hard that your vision goes dark and you shred your own bottom lip open, body moving closer to his wall due to the force. He’s licking beneath your jugular, words sensual and filthy, making your entire body spike in a sudden electricity. “Gonna cum in every hole you’ve got, so you remember that they’re mine.”

This time you’re more than ready to give him a warning, body beginning to shake beyond your control, breaths stuttering in your chest. Eddie reaches down between you, calloused thumb flicking your clit. Everything is so fucking wet and the way it sounds in the expanse of Eddie’s small room, it has you opening your mouth, out of control and greedily begging for more.

“Eds, harder. Please? Almost…”

He’s grinning in that special way that weakens you—heart and soul, body and mind. “So much more than a slut.” His thrusts become choppy, his own babbling tone turning into Eddie-speak. “You are way more than you know, Y/N.”

You fondle his pick chain and bring him into your immediate airspace, mouths hovering. He’s nearing his end, cock getting fuller inside you. “Need you to tell me how much you love me.”

You both completely go slack. Eddie stops himself all together, body trembling, head bowing. Your heart rate increases, feeling as if you’ve skipped a staircase thousands of feet in the air and you’re now free falling.

Love… You don’t have to think twice.

Your hands move to cup his face, holding on, your eyes shining with tears at all overloaded emotions and senses. “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.”

At your admission, those beautiful eyes—dark with remains of passion—they fill, and he gives you his all, driving his cock into you in calculated presses, trying like hell to get you to cum first. When he speaks, his voice cracks apart. “Let me know that you’re right here with me, Y/N.”

“I’ve always been here, Eddie.” Is what you manage, thumping your hand against his wrist and helping him bring his fingers back to your clit.

He doesn’t let you look away, noses smashed together, sticky foreheads pressing, hair curtaining the apples of pink, sex stained cheeks. Your eyes widen as that knot begins to tighten in your stomach, unraveling so violently that Eddie has to grip your quivering thigh in one hand, the other keeping steady on your clit. You dig into his back, other hand tugging on his hair, and Eddie is giving a throaty seduction. “That’s it, be my good girl and cum again for me.”

And you’re coming apart at your very core, every cell exploding and rebuilding, gluing yourself to Eddie to seize the ache that scrambles your insides and leaves you breathless. He’s cursing, keeping his finger on your clit to help you coast over the high, immediately following you with the lowest, sweetest, whimpering moan that you’ve ever heard. Both of your eyes still drinking in the other’s pleasure, tears spilling over your lash line as Eddie’s hips cease and he holds, his cock swelling and that soft, creamy warmth coating your sore walls in spurts. He collapses onto your chest and you hold him there in a vice hug, his hand still trapped between your exhausted bodies. He gently eases it out, groaning around the wetness that he’s all too eager to sample until the layer of shine is off his fingers.

Holy shit and fuck me…

Your legs fall to the side, unable to stay upright any longer, Eddie keeping a hovering hand to soothe your shaking. He kisses your neck with a plush mouth, his chain dangling between your breasts. You’re petting his hair—which is so soaked it’s as if he’s been in the rain or come from the shower—off his forehead, wincing as he slides out and keeps himself by your side. You gasp and he joins, fascinated by your cum and his own seed pouring from your cunt. He raises up a little. “Mhm. Let me see?”

He props your thigh, sliding his fingers back and forth, zoned in on his bedsheets being ruined from the literal puddle of your shared cum that runs from you. Seconds pass and he grins widely, plopping onto his back, his fingertips caressing your shoulder, down to your arm. It’s a comfortable quiet, even with the intense meaning of the words that were spoken, until Eddie starts with a, “So..?”

And you cut him off, trying to get your uncomfortably hot body closer. “So I love you. And I have never stopped needing you, or wanting you, Eddie. I just hope all this wasn’t because we were fighting and you got scared I would leave, and —“

He doesn’t let you finish this time, that chocolate-ly brown ring swinging back around his pupil in a brisk develop, showcasing the moisture in his eyes. “I was scared because I love you so damn much that I would charge headfirst into Mordor, or some alternate dimension without any weapon or any shield, just for you. You gotta know that, Y/N.”

His softness, that glittering fragility, it makes you seal your mouth to his, kissing him full of your feelings. He cups the nape of your neck, drawing in closer, thumb coaxing a shiver from you as it passes over a certain spot behind your ear. On a wet break away, you’re nodding your head. “Guess we spent all week fighting when we should’ve been fucking and talking about our feelings.”

Eddie smirks, then is serious. “Be that as it may, I’m sorry I’ve been shit at showing you I appreciate all that you do for the guys and me. And for forgetting that you are your own person too. S’ not like I meant to, I swear. I just get so fucking caught up and I shouldn’t take for granted anything that has to do with you or with us.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re my best-friend, Eddie Munson?”

While it’s still true, you’re wondering when the words leave your lips. Eddie just fucked you so hard you probably won’t be able to sit down for a week or walk upright for hours, so friendship isn’t exactly the most appropriate term anymore, is it?

Eddie taps his fingertips to your temple, drawing your dazed expression, clinging to the cosmic connection once more. “M’ yours, Y/N.”

“Oh yeah, Munson?” You’re so high that you could fly out of here right now and make rounds around the whole globe. Your chest is aching with a tempo that promises new hope and ease.

Eddie is giddy too, that wide set smile, cheesing. “Just gotta get you a new shirt.”

The memory of your old club attire being one with the forest floor seems like so long ago. Eddie knuckle grazes your cheek, apologetic. You shush him. “I ruined yours, so we’re even.”

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes and he’s tackling you beneath him, pinning your hands in a lace above your head. “Nah, we are just getting started on bein’ even, baby.”

~*~

Tagging: @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @gothbitchshit @thisishellfire @ethereal27cereal @likedovesinthewnd

-I really need to form a bigger tag list! I’m sorry :/-

Lemme know if you want on my general tag list, please! :)

[indouloureux]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘

summary: your best-friend’s pretty. really fucking pretty. especially when he’s got his eyeliner smudged all over his eyes from crying too much, or when he’s got scratch marks over his inked skin, or when his begging moans make him hotter than hellfire

warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI. 8k filth, sub!eddie kinda, mommy kink, overstimulation, protected sex, oral (m receiving), degradation kink(slut, whore), dirty talk, dacryphilia, biting, ball sucking (hehe), praise kink, maybe mean!dom reader, rough sex, aftercare??? multiple orgasms lol MINORS GO AWAY (not proofread. rushed)

a/n: idk man, this took a long time to write for some reason but i hope you guys like this because it took a long time okay! and ball sucking. tumblr got me horny for eddie munson's ballsack so i put it in here. enjoy. also thank u for 4k mwah mwah i love u all!

— proofread by my mi amor jess <3 (@cordiformity)

MASTERLIST

The sound of the car turning on makes the both of you raise your hands in a farewell, Wayne Munson’s silhouette inside the tinted window waves back at you and Eddie, pulling out of the driveway, wheels scraping on the gravel road outside of your home.

“Bye, Uncle Wayne!” you yell, hands cupping your mouth for a better volume. Eddie waves still, arm stretched out in the hot air, rings clinking and glinting in the hot sun as he hovers you. “I’ll miss you! You’re the better Munson!”

“Asshole,” Eddie jabs your ribs. You poke your tongue at him, turning around to go back inside your home, a hand hovering behind you as he leads you through the door before he follows and shuts it behind him. “You invite me over and you’re saying I’m the worse Munson?”

“I’m basing off the truth, dungeon master,” you bump your hips with his, leading him to the stairs. His dirty sneakers thump on the creaking stairwell, hand dragging up the rail as you look back at him. “Who’s got the working car? Who’s got better morale?”

You sigh in contentment, feeling the cold air blow the sweat off your bodies in a strong surge. Eddie wipes the sticking hair off his forehead, eyes lazily watching you sit in front of him on the broken chair, legs spread. 

You sigh in contentment, feeling the cold air blow the sweat off your bodies in a strong surge. Eddie wipes the sticking hair off his forehead, eyes lazily watching you sit in front of him on the broken chair, legs spread. 

You sigh in contentment, feeling the cold air blow the sweat off your bodies in a strong surge. Eddie wipes the sticking hair off his forehead, eyes lazily watching you sit in front of him on the broken chair, legs spread. 

“Alright, Eds.” You offer your hand, rings shown that matched his – the same skull on your ring finger, a snake coiled around the middle, and a daintier one connected to your bracelet through a chain. He vaguely remembers being with you when you bought it, having to be too distracted with something else he also can’t remember. “Whip it out and let’s suck.”

Almost fooled by your racy insinuation, Eddie lifts his ass up and searches for the ziplock in his pocket, tongue massaging his upper teeth as he pulls the plastic out and shows you what you’re asking for. “You’re still paying for that.”

You scoff, snatching it from him before you pull out a crumpled twenty from your pocket. “You know I always do.”

“You always do?” he sits up, forearms behind him. Eddie’s curls loose the sticky perspiration, now flowing behind him when he shakes his head at you. You slap the bill on his palm. “(y/n), you owe me like, fifty bucks. Minus ten because you beat that sicko from the band auditions.”

“It was supposed to be a gift,” you whine, throwing your head back. “I thought we were friends, Eddie?”

“We are,” he kicks his shoes off, and he half thinks he might have already lost them in the pile of clothes. “But I need money, too. No money, and we spend the rest of our life being driven back and forth by my uncle. And you know he hates it when we smoke.”

“Which is why I keep on telling you to convince him to smoke weed,” you open your drawer. “That way you can at least emancipate the stress you give him,” you jest, searching beneath used notebooks until you spot a crutch. “I- fuck I kind of forgot how to roll a joint. Can you do it?”

Eddie sniffs, side of his finger rubbing his nostrils. “You’re gonna do it now? That’s like, a half ounce. You finish it way faster than I do,” he sits up. “Just smoke a cig with me instead.”

Your hands drop to your sides, giving him a dismayed look before you’re opening the drawer once more and tossing the ziplock and clutch back inside, making sure it’s hidden beneath a notebook.

“I’d rather not,” you slump your head on the table. “I wanna get high. That’s why I invited you here in the first place.”

Eddie huffs. “That’s the third time you’ve hurt me, (y/n).”

He sits up, the veins on his forearm catching your attention. Tendrils bulging against the tattoo on his skin, blood pumping in the same beat your heart does as you stare at them with a watering mouth before they drive down to his clenching hands that reach for the boombox, toying with the antennas before Eddie looks at you.

“You still got the tapes? Or you sold them just to pay me?” he snickers, kicking your foot. You sneer at him, kicking him much harder that simulates a groan from him. “Please tell me you have at least Judas Priest in there. I’ve had enough listening to a-ha. I have the lyrics stuck in my head that I forgot the chords to Master Of Muppets.” You glare at him. “You know? Take on meeee…?”

“Yeah. I know what that song is,” While eyes impishly glare at him, you reach for the bag beneath your desk, black almost gray from the specks of dust surrounding it. Eddie watches your hand dig into the filthy bag, looking as if you’re carding through a literal trash can before you pull out three mixtapes that he gave you a couple months ago, Kate Bush and Foreigner falling to the ground as you pull them up.

“Blizzard of Ozz,” you smack the cassette in Eddie’s open palm, a stinging clap echoing around the corners of your small bedroom. “For the one and only Osbourne wannabe.”

“Kate Bush, huh?” Eddie opens the cassette player, shoving the tape carelessly inside. “Red tell ya to listen to it?” he asks, slamming the cassette holder shut and turns the volume louder, like you hadn’t received complaints from the loud ‘satanic’ music; you don’t care, anyway, it’s music nonetheless. Your friend spins in a riveting twirl, hair spinning cavalierly into the air-conditioned wind, before he stops to face you with a thespian look, mouthing the lyrics.

You yell over the music. “Max says she could change the world!”

Eddie snorts. “People look at me and say ‘is the end near, when is the final day?’” He takes a brush from your cup holder, holding it like a microphone. You guffaw at him, watching as a hand comes down to his chest before he runs around your room, stepping on the discarded clothes and crumpled papers on the ground. “What’s the future of mankind? How do I know, I got left behind.”

“Hey!” you shout at him through the zeitgestical piece of joint electrical guitars and drums, his feet taking him to your mattress sunken, exhorting him to jump up and down like a giddy child. “Get down!”

“Come on, bats,” his hand’s still up as an offer. “Ozzy wannabe wants to make the most metal concert ever inside your garbage bedroom.” Eddie air guitars like a loser, fingers mimicking the same chords of the song and imitating riffs as if he was in a metal concert. “Don’t just sit in the crowd. Be a part of the show.”

“Do you often say that to five drunks?” you quip. “I’d rather stay here than break my neck, Eddie.”

“Fine,” he jumps off, landing right on his feet where you see his left one bending the slightest at the hard impact. His inept body refuses him to sit still, and is now telling him to touch the items on your desk as you sit and watch him poke and prod like he’s shopping. “Let’s do something else that doesn’t make you so boring.”

“I’m not boring!” you exclaim, gawping at him. “I’m fun! Sorry for making sure you don’t die in my bedroom. Because if you did, I’d leave you here to rot with the rest of my clothes. Then I’ll steal your car and drive away to California.”

“You just worry too much,” Eddie pulls on your hand, indolently limp in his touch. “Sing with me, bats. Ozzy Osbourne awaits.” when you shake your head, he sighs disappointedly; almost in a way that’s so dramatic that you think he’s not actually sad about your refusal. “Alright. Then, let’s do something that you think is fun other than using me for getting high.”

You pout at him, now clasping at his forearm for forgiveness. “Aw. Eds, I don’t use you. You’re my best friend.”

Best friend.

Two words that compress his chest so tight he feels the pain ricocheting in his inked limbs. Eddie plasters this pain he doesn’t know why he feels when you call him your best friend by a short laugh, biting his bottom lip. “Yeah yeah. Think of something before I go find somewhere else fun.”

“Don’t you just wanna lay down beside me while we listen to Ozzy Osbourne? You used to do that!”

“Bats,” he bends, face leveled with yours as his lips disappear into his mouth, forming a straight line. “I’m extremely bored without my van. I need to do something before I lose my mind entirely. I mean, you wouldn’t like seeing me—” his fingers join together, both hands placing them on either side of his head before he mimics the sound of an explosion, fingers splaying apart. “—all bloody and open headed, right? I could just drop my blood down to your carpet. Or, well, what used to be a carpet.”

You kick a few items away to show your dark cerulean carpet. Eddie’s upper lip curls up in slight disgust. “The color’s always…like that.” you wave it off. “I clean it like, once a year? I dunno. I’ll clean up my shit after you leave.”

“You should,” he scratches the back of his neck. “Now find something interesting to do.”

“Fine,” you grunt. “I have something in mind. But if you don’t want to do it, then it’s your loss.”

-

In the last seven years of your friendship, not once have you imagined sitting on Eddie Munson’s lap. 

Sure. Maybe you’ve hugged. But it’s just a hug. All friends do that. Friends snuggle when they’re stoned, they kiss each other’s cheeks as a rushed farewell. Maybe talking about masturbation was another thing but it was normal. You’ve seen each other half-naked — he helped you pick your bra before a date, and you got him a decent pair of underwear before girls would blow him. It’s a normal best friend thing.

Sitting on each other’s lap? It’s become romanticized in cheesy rom coms. And you see its point. With the minimal space between your bodies, crotches almost on top of each other, and the air so thick with unearthed tension that you’re wary and nervous at every move you do.

The liquid kohl paints his pale skin, a flawed darkness that mends conveniently into his eccentric vogue that he possesses valiantly with pride. Eddie’s eyes bore into you, scanning each pore, or the light hair above your top lip. Mostly into your eyes that don’t directly look into his — the way your pupils dilate and shrink every so often; and sometimes he’d cheekily glance down your lips, where the tip of your tongue would poke out, which gallops his blood all over his body into an intense heat. And fuck, how long is this going to take?

His hands grasp your waist tightly, keeping you in place. Your thigh on his, drawing around his vast eyes that perceive. Ozzy Osbourne sings from the mixtape Eddie changed—your mixtape that he made for you, a mechanized voice bringing you into the stage instead of the crowd — makes you feel like you’re in a show playing house with your best friend. It makes Eddie squirm gently in his seat, almost letting you muck up what you’ve done.

“Sit still,” your hand grips his cheeks, harshly forcing him into looking at you and keeping his face pliant beneath your touch, making his lips pucker a little. “You’re gonna make me mess up.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “It kinda tickles.”

“The brush?”

“Yeah,” his nails scratch your back slightly. “It’s like a feather touching my eyes or something. How long is this going to take?”

Eddie sees your eyebrows furrow in slight frustration at his impatience, your hand shaking in the slightest. “Almost done, Munson.” you mutter, lips parting the slightest that shows just a sliver of your pearls.

The situation is familiar, albeit it’s not him that you’re sitting on. Eddie’s mind varies through a manifold of haunting memories, until it settles on the one that bestows him a roll of undefined covetousness. It makes him grip your waist tighter as the memory of you sitting on another boy’s lap fills his mind, in this exact activity. Eddie feels this confusing jealousy run through him when he remembers you kissing that boy with his eyeliner all smudged up.

You sense his sudden rigidness, the hitching on his breath. “What’s wrong?” you murmur, brush stopping on the outer corner of his eye. 

“Nothing,” he widens his eyes a bit. “Just…remembered something.”

“What is it?”

He watches you move again, feeling the cold brush on the crinkles beside his eyes, curving upward. “When- when you and Harrison Mcline were in the back of the classroom making out,” he laughs gently. “You were putting eyeliner on him too for the school play. He looked a lot like David Bowie with it, though. But I bet I look way cooler than him.”

Scoffing, you shake your head. “Harrison Mcline is a douchebag,” you claim, nail digging deep into his cheek he thinks he’ll see a crescent indent on his flesh. Eddie looks into your eyes, full of annoyance at the sudden memory, before it shifts into embarrassment. “He’s an arrogant dickhead who trusts his pulling out ‘skills’ and kept insisting he was allergic to condoms just so he could fuck me raw. And also, you do look better.”

Heat waves through his cheeks and ears as Eddie laughs out of sympathy, but mostly to make fun of your unfortunate encounter. “Told you you shouldn't have gone for him. You’re planning on fucking Mcline? Cheer squad says he’s got a dick the size of an eraser.” 

“Well, it’s not like I have any options, do we?” you snicker, brushing his eyelashes with the side of your finger before you’re back to painting the inner corner of his eye, tainting his opal skin black. “What goody-two-shoes of a man would want to fuck a girl who’s part of the ‘satanic panic’?” you wave your hand to gesture to yourself. “And I did not know that.”

“Jason Carver’s been eyein’ you lately,” he teases, eyebrows wiggling the slightest. “As well as Steve Harrington when we’d rent a shitty movie. Even Gareth!”

“Jason Carver is with Chrissy Cunningham, and he keeps on insisting that this whole metal thing is just a phase. Steve Harrington only eyes me because I’m with you. And I’m older than Gareth! It’s disgusting, he’s like my little brother.” you tilt your head at him, Eddie wincing at your thoughts about your friend. “This pious town doesn’t fuck with, and I quote, cult members. I can't even find a decent one out there.”

In a drunken momentum, his eyes trace the v-shaped column of your neck that connects to your collarbone, prominent as his irises desecrate the components of every imperfection on your skin, minus the tattoos — the unorthodox stygian tattoos so unsaint, skulls and horns sinking deep into your flesh you might as well be the Devil’s little wayward angel. The hand behind you traces the waistline of your jeans, feeling your skin that’s exposed when your shirt has risen up from your back being slouched to hover over his head. 

Eddie kicks a shirt out of his way — a cut tank top with the painted devil from the Hellfire Shirt to appear more punk (one he remembers you wore when you snuck into the community pool, jumping into the chlorine water with nothing but that shirt and a pair of denim shorts, gave him a goddamn boner when your bare tits poked out). “There’s some decent guys out there.”

He wants to say ‘me’, however not in an amorous way. Simply the mind that hasn't seen any cunt for the past month, and he’s desperate to the point he’d literally fuck his best friend. But maybe hidden beneath that word could mean something deeper, something he’s chosen to deny and decides to forget about. Eddie knows it’s wrong; to imagine you, his dear friend for ozzy knows how long, all bent and spread for him to fuck because he’s horny. But who wouldn't? 

“Easy for you to say,” you scoff. “You almost fucked that mom from the community pool back summer. And that junkie who blew you when she came to your show and thought a blowjob was enough of a payment for weed.” He feels the rough pad of your thumb rub a spot beside his eye, stinging slightly. 

“She gives really good head,” he nods slightly. “ ‘m just saying, sweetheart. You just need to look hard.”

“Oh yeah?” you take your eyeliner away from his eyes, snapping the cap back in place before your hands rest on his shoulders. “Like you? Because I think that your little friend—”

Your finger drags down his chest, movement sedated and teasing, nail scraping on the printed typography before they press deep into the thick flesh of his torso, trailing down like you’re exploring uncharted territories. They come across his thighs, hard and thick, short nails scratching the denim before you tease and sink deeper, feeling up the sudden rock in his pants that presses right onto your crotch.

Eddie blames you for the hard on in, had you not been subtly grinding on it for the past minute or so when you were applying eyeliner, acting nonchalantly when he felt so constrained in his tight jeans. His bottom lip feels so raw from all the biting he’s done just to not moan out loud. And it feels sick — perverted — to have a boner when your best friend sits on your lap.

“—kind of agrees with me,” you trace his bulge, unevenly round and thick, your hand wanting to squeeze but you spare him the insanity. “He’s been poking out ever since I sat on your lap. I think he wants you to say that you need some help.”

“And I think I’m the only one who can know what my dick says,” he sneers, his hand coming out from behind you to grasp your forearm and run his thumb on the inked bats on your skin. “And he says he’s perfectly fine staying inside until he gets home and feels the love of my hand.”

You tut, pouting as you brush the hair out of his face and tuck it behind his ears, bangs unruly on his forehead that it almost pokes his pretty eyes. “Shame,” you pop the eyeliner back on your cup, chastely placing your hands on his shoulders instead. “Would have been happy to help.”

His saliva sticks to the walls of his throat, blocking the next words from coming out because holy fucking shit, you’re flirting with him. Or he thinks you’re flirting with him. Because friends don’t flirt, right? Best friends, as you so proudly say to others. Best friends don’t flirt, or offer to get rid of someone’s fucking boner; he shouldn’t feel this proverbial hunger towards you, like the words that had rolled off your tongue was a drop of water that rolls down his throat, still leaving him thirsty.

“Tsk,” he chuckles dryly, palms running up and down your bare thighs. You expected him to say something else, but it seemed like he’s at a loss for words whenever you graze his bulge when you adjust your seat to remove the numbness of your calf. You feel like the senile chair would snap it legs and drop you into this void of just him and you, left alone to be stubborn and in denial. 

“I could, though,” you murmur, fingers grazing his slightly coarse hair. “I can h-help you. With your problem. I don’t mind.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie sighs heavily, his hot breath fanning your face. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re forced to just because I got a boner while you’re on top of me.”

“It’s not that,” you grip his shoulders tightly, trying to stop yourself from grinding again. Because god, fuck, if you had a dick of your own, you’d be as hard as him. “It’s just a friendly offer. Both of us hadn’t had fuck since last month and, well, we’re here now, are we? Might as well just…get on with it.”

It’s atrociously fun, your offer. Because even though you’d agree to forget about it in the end, both of you would certainly not forget about it. Eddie knows nothing would be the same if he agreed, if he acted like he���s wanted to fuck you for ages. You’d know with the way he’d act, with the way he speaks, that he’s always yearned for it, and he’s afraid it would cause a strain to your friendship. But fuck—you’re offering it yourself; and he’d cut his own dick off if he ever denied the chance. 

Giving in into having sex with you just because he hasn’t had a decent fuck in a while? Was it selfish, maybe, even if he knows it’s going to change everything. But hey, the chance is right in front of him.

Eddie’s silence deludes you into thinking that he might have been disgusted by your offer. You don’t see the way his pupils widen and shrink ever so often, and it makes you remove your hands from his shoulders and sigh. “You know what? Forget about it. I don’t even know why I said that,”

“Hey,” he reaches out to clasp your wrist when you stand up to leave. Your right leg’s on the ground, the other still bent beside his thigh. Eddie looks up at you with unsure eyes, thumb running along your pulse point. “I was…going to say why not.”

Your lips part. “Really?”

“Yeah,” his eyebrows furrow and his nose wrinkles as he says it, urging you to sit back on his lap by the gentle pull on your hand. “I mean, you know, it’s just a one time thing, right? We can- we can act like it never happened after. Unless, you don’t want to.”

You don’t know if he’s saying all of that to spare your feelings, or if he wants the same thing you do—being fuck buddies, and whatnot, until you’d both come to terms that you actually like each other. But maybe that’s just your fantasy that he felt the same way you did, and that Eddie’s only saying yes because he’s just as deprived as you are.

“We don’t have to think about that now,” you sit gently on his thighs. The hand that he doesn’t hold tugs on the thread hanging on the bottom of your shirt, fingers twirling and pulling slightly. “We can just have sex. Then, let’s think about it after. That way we can see if- we can continue it or…not.”

Eddie’s looking directly into your eyes, right where you can see the specks of concupiscent dust glaze his brown eyes. And somehow, your faces are so close yet so far, with the way you feel the very tips of his eyelashes graze your cheeks ever so softly when he blinks. 

“Great idea,” he says. And his hand hovers like he debates on cupping your face or holding your waist again. 

“You can hold me,” you take his hands, placing them on your waist. “I’m not gonna bite,”

“Oh, I know you won’t,” he chuckles, sighing deeply when you bite your lip. “‘Y too soft to bite.”

You pull away, though still your faces are still close. Eddie’s bemused by the incredulity on your face, the way your parted lips etch into a feigned offended smile. “I’m too soft to bite?” you repeat, nails scraping on his exposed arms before you suddenly tangle your hand in his hair and pull harshly; lo and behold, he whimpers. “Aw, look at that. He made a sound.”

“That’s because it hurt,” he snaps, chest heaving against yours. “How would you react when I pull on your hair?”

“The same thing,” your other hand pushes his hair behind his ear, pouting at him. “I would have moaned like you did,”

Eddie’s nostrils flare, eyes darkening. “Fuck you.”

Leaning in to whisper in his ear, you tug on his hair again and fuck, he whimpers. “No, I fuck you.” Your nails scrape his scalp, Eddie digging his own at your skin. “What, you think just because I offered I’d let you use me? That’s not how it works, sweetie.”

You pull back, your hand still in his hair before you lean in to kiss him hard on his chapped lips. 

It’s sultry, in that exchange of hot breaths between open mouths and teeth clashing. Eddie grunts against you when you coincide with your hip rolling each time your lips close around his. Judas Priest replaces Ozzy Osbourne’s yelling rasps, Love Bites deep thrumming like the chime of a bell cascades the ambience of the moment. You’re bold when your tongue slips past his lips to tackle his, sinking deeper that your nose bends on his cheek.

It’s new and it’s scary to kiss your best friend with the crisp trepidation of the future of your friendship. Because yeah, a simple kiss can change everything. It’s not chaste, it’s not for comfort, it’s not by accident; you’d both agreed to it, and it's unbeknownst to the both of you what the kiss truly meant to either of you. It’s driving you insane.

Your mind buzzes in delirium as you feel his shirt, wrinkles and damp from the sweat. He’s humming and he’s grunting with the wet clicks of your rapacious lips. And Eddie’s had enough, his hands coming down to grip the back of your thighs tightly, standing up from the chair and wrapping your legs around his waist. You fall heavily with him, your back landing on your crumpled sheets, his crotch immediately grinding against yours like a payback.

You moan, tugging on the hair on the nape of his neck. “Fuck,”

“What’s that, bats?” he taunts. “You fuck me? Say it again, sweetheart,” he rolls his hips deeper, bulge pressing right on you. “Say it. That you’ll fuck me. If you can, I’ll let you. If you don’t,” Eddie bites gently at your bottom lip, letting it go and watches as it pops right back. “Guess I'll have to be in control.”

Unpleased by his teasing, you push on his shoulders. Eddie falls back, body pinned to the mattress when you straddle his stomach, your hands gripping his wrists. “I fuck you,” you repeat, jaw clenching. “I’m in charge, you hear me?”

You don’t wait for his answer, because your hands are bringing themselves down to tug on his collar, pulling them apart until the weak shirt rips in half. Eddie’s eyes widen at the rip, lifting his head to press his chin on his neck as he looks at your damage. He laughs. “You’re lucky that wasn’t my favorite shirt,”

“I can get you a new one,” you say quickly, placing your palms beneath his chest to admire the tattoos on his fair skin. You lean back down to kiss him on his lips, gently this time, before you drag your lips down to his red cheeks, to his jawline where the faintest of a stubble begins to grow. Eddie exhales, the faint touch of your finger enough to send heat all over his chest. The Demon stares directly at you when you scrape your nails on the black art, punishing and guiding. “This still creeps me out, by the way,”

Eddie looks at the tattoo, frowning. “It’s still cool,”

His eyeliner smudges a little, making his eyes almost caliginous in his own wanton abyss. You press your lips right on the tattoo, coming down to teasingly nip at his nipple before your hands cup his pecs. And you grind on him again, your ass on his crotch and your covered cunt on the flat of his stomach as you let your hand drive up to splay across his chest. 

“Christ, (y/n),” he groans impatiently. “Stop fucking dry humping me.”

“Yeah, well, what is it, Eddie?” you cock your head at him. “Who are you telling that to, hm? Christ or me?”

He sits up, hips jutting to yours that elicits a hushed moan from you. Eddie’s hands prop him up from behind, leaning up to kiss you feverishly again. “You,” he answers, shaking his head at you. “But I think (y/n)’s too formal. ‘Bats’ is too sentimental. I like to…spice things up. There’s a reason why I never call you by your name during DnD, sweets,” he lets one hand go, taking your cheek into his palm. “Whatcha say? Let’s try something new other than bats. Like…like mommy.”

Your rutting slows down a bit, uneven by surprise. You turn your head to him, and he almost comes undone with the way your eyes almost blacken by the dilation of your pupils—the way little glints of arousal light your eyes. Eddie bites his lip when the hand beneath his collarbone nears his neck until you're digging your fingers on either side of his neck. 

“Mommy, huh?” you deride. “I like the sound of that,” you bounce lightly, and you smile when he moans lowly. “You gonna let mommy do whatever she wants? Because I think it was fucking filthy of you to get a boner when I was on your lap,” Eddie lays back down, his hands gripping your ass. “And mommy wants to punish you for a bit, is that alright?”

He nods. “Y-yes.”

You crawl down slowly. “Yes what?”

Eddie whines softly, his palm resting on the thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead. “Yes mommy.” he grunts. “Still gonna call you bats, though. Feels uncanny,”

“Commit to it,” you unbuckle his jeans, handcuffs clicking as you do so. “Don’t be shy and naughty, Eddie. You wanted it.”

He lifts up, helping you tug his jeans down. Eddie could care less if you lose his jeans in the pile of clothes on the ground, because you’re beneath him. You’re not exactly kneeling—a sight he’d kill for—but seeing your face hovering over his cock hidden by his briefs was enough to make his mouth water and suppress a loud moan. Eddie breathes heavily when you press a kiss on top of his bulge, looking so cherubic and innocent it’s driving him insane.

Now you are mine, In my control. One taste of your life, and I own your soul

You sing it against him, exhaling at each worth that your hot breath makes him jolt. Eddie whines, looking down at you to see that you’re hooking your fingers on the band of his briefs, tugging them down until his feet slip past the holes and you’re throwing it aside. 

Amused by the sight of your tongue licking your lips at the sight of his hard cock slapping against his happy trail, a glob of precum leaking down to land on the coarse hair above his dick. Eddie’s hand comes down to brush your hair out of your face. “‘S not fair that I’m naked and you’re still clothed.”

“Patience,” you scoff, leaning back to shed your shirt. You shiver when your bare tits feel the air conditioned air nip at your exposed nipples, but you smirk when Eddie gawps at the sight of you being bare chested and kneeling at the end of your bed right in front of his cock. 

Not once did he imagine the sound of a zipper going down could excite him this much, but fuck, your removing your shorts and tossing it at him. Eddie catches it, shamelessly bunching it up in his fist and digging his nose into the crutch point, where he whiffs at the faint scent of your arousal.

“I can imagine just how wet you are,” he throws it aside. “I can fucking smell it on your shorts.”

You’re standing up, right where the exploration of his eyes land on the black lace that covers you, shows well your bumps and the askew imperfections on your thighs. Its floral folderol craves him for the exposure, and it has him tracing the other integrants of you—the matching bat tattoos on your forearm that you’ve both gotten when you turned 18, your Cockatrice dragon to his Wyvern on your other arm; your own demon on your waistline inspired by Gene Simmons, the coiling snake beneath your right breast, and a bell right between your collarbones. It makes Eddie sit up.

“That’s new,” he points to the black bell. “When’d you get that?”

“Last week,” you drag your finger across it. “Metallica’s growing on me.”

For Whom The Bell Tolls. That’s hot.

Eddie bites his lip when you sway your hips side to side as you leisurely get rid of your black lace, your head lifting to gaze coquettishly at him. “Wanna know how wet mommy got, Eddie?” you hum. He nods his head, muttering a low fuck yeah, his lips all swollen from the lip biting that he eases the pain by licking his lips. 

His cock throbs at the bare sight of your cunt, not fully exposed but he sees the small triangular bush on top. Eddie stops himself from touching his length right there and then as the lace slips past your knees and soon your feet, tossing it at his face that he clumsily catches. You gasp when he sniffs every inch of it, licking the crotch with the flat of his tongue before he’s flinging it somewhere in a corner.

“Smell good, bats,” Eddie growls. “Fucking delectable.”

You come back to kneel at the end of the bed, right between his legs before you're laying on your stomach. Eddie watches with a parted mouth as you trail kisses up his thigh. And you waste no time to spit on your hand and wrap your hand around his shaft, pumping him in an adagio manner. He lets out a moanish sigh, taking two pillows to rest his head all while he watches you tease him.

“Think you deserve my mouth?” you drawl, biting gently at the fat of his thigh. “Tell me, Eddie. Do you deserve mommy’s cock? After being so naughty? I wonder what other girls would think of you having a boner when you sit on their lap. ‘S like you’re a poor little virgin.”

Your thumb traces the slit of the bulging mushroom head, and it’s taking all of his strength not to thrust up. Your touch is burning, only on his cock but felt tactile like the blaze spreads through his veins like a wildfire. Eddie whines. “Please,” he begs. “I’ve been good, mommy. Jus’ couldn’t help it. You looked hot.” you look up at him. “So fucking sexy sitting on my lap, bats.”

Giggling, you shake your head and press a short kiss on his tip. “You’re lucky flattery works with me.” 

A loud moan, louder than Rob Haldford, leaves Eddie’s valiant mouth when you sink your head down his cock, your throat opening to welcome his tip that gags you, your nose grazing the bush of curls. It was a sudden suck, the way your cheeks enclose greedily around his length that makes his legs shake. His fists curl your sheets as you begin to bob your head.

You slap his hand away when it comes down to the back of your head, pulling out and squeezing his shaft. “Keep your hands to yourself, slut. And stay still. If you so much as thrust up my face without my permission, I’m leaving you here all wet with your balls blue.”

He definitely almost came. “Fuck. I’m sorry, m-mommy.”

When you take him into your mouth again with glaring eyes, Eddie thinks of the other girls—a wrong moment to do so, but he remembers how incompetend they were at making him feel so good by the simple touch on his dick. They didn’t send shivers up his spine, they didn’t bear the same dominancy you did; didn’t make him submit indigently the way you made him to. He’s never felt this good in a long time, and it’s just your fucking mouth around him.

“Your cock’s so big, Eddie,” you press your palm on the vein beneath his shaft, kitten licking his tip. “Taste so fucking good, too.” like the way I imagined, you almost say. But you don’t want him to know that; it’s embarrassing to make him think that you’d hump a pillow and imagine fucking his face. 

“Feels s-sooo fucking good—shit…bats,” he pants. You close your lips around his helmet, hand on his shaft pumping him as you bob your head around his tip but never fully taking him into your mouth. The feeling was still unexplainably stupefying, your tongue pressing flat on the throbbing flesh of his tip, hands fast and gyrating around his slick shaft that he hears wet sounds against your palm and his sensitive skin. 

His grunts and loud moaning sends a hot pool between your legs that it’s starting to drip down your legs to the bed, sticky and sweet and painful from the lack of touch. You take your vacant hand down between your body and the bed, fingers reaching blindly for your clit. And when you rub the swollen nub, you moan against his head that sends vibrations.

“Shit!” his ass clenches, stopping himself from bucking up. Eddie looks down to see your arm wedged uncomfortably beneath you, and he feels his orgasm build up to the edge of the wall when your eyes close as you rub your clit and suck on his cock. “Are you- touching yourself?”

You hum around him, head bobbing in rhythm to the music. You pull away from his cock, to kiss your way down to his heavy balls. Eddie mewls, whining when you rub your clit faster as you lick his balls. Everything feels overwhelmingly good when you suck on his balls, tongue lifting his heavy sack and enclosing your lips around the dark flesh. Eddie’s eyes roll to the back of his head, throwing his head down to his pillow and covering his eyes with his forearm. 

He feels the eyeliner transfer to his sweaty skin, his sweat taking the liquid kohl and dripping down his temple. But it might have been the tears that threaten to spill past his eyes that sets the makeup off down his face, because your sloppy sucking and quick pumping, it felt so good it renders him an almost sobbing mess beneath you.

“Mommy,” he heaves. “I’m close,”

“Hold it in, then,” you order. “I’m not done. You can touch my hair now, by the way.”

You capture his sack with the most pure look you could muster, as if what you're doing isn’t so fucking unholy. Like you’re at the gates of heaven proving your innocence. Your hands leave him and yourself to push on the back his thighs, letting his feet plant on the mattress, pushing them wide apart to give yourself better access. Eddie moans, almost a scream ripping out his throat and it’s when the tears slowly start, your hand coming back to pump his wet cock loudly, your muffled moaning like music that comes with the squelching of his cock.

“Such a pretty dick,” you tease. “So pretty and good. Wonder what it would feel like to have you inside me. I’m gonna fucking milk you dry until you’re crying and in pain.”

Eddie pats your head, running his fingers through the tangled mess as you look up at him, eyelashes wet and curled, mouth full of his balls that you suck greedily. His missing orgasm is painful, and he finds himself begging embarrassingly. “Bats, can I cum, please? I’ve been good. Fuck—I’ve been such a good boy for you. Please let me cum.”

Your laugh is sardonic and mean, pressing a kiss to his heavy sack before you’re licking up from his balls to his shaft and tip. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Vampishly, you sink your head down his cock again, gagging around him that a string of saliva drips down your neck and the valley of your breast. Eddie mewls, and with a couple more closed cheeks, head bobbing and sucking and licking, he’s shooting his seed at the back of your throat. His warm delicacy coating the walls of your throat.

You don’t stop until he’s milked, sinking your head deeper and deeper until his cum starts to drip out your mouth. Once you’re done, you let him go with a pop. Your finger scooping up his cum and pushing it back into your mouth.

“Mother of Ozzy,” he whispers, watching you suck on your fingers, his legs dropping down. “S-shit. Come here, bats.”

You come back to sit on his lap, his dick still hard but bends down when you grind your cunt against him. Eddie’s (and your) moans are muffled when you kiss him, taking his face in your hands as you kiss him with fervor, slowly grinding on his shaft like you did earlier. Eddie wraps his hands around your back, keeping your chest flushed against his as his tongue evades your mouth.

“You taste like my cum,” he murmurs. 

“Tastes good,” you giggle. “Aw, your eyeliner. I worked hard on that.”

 Eddie pouts. “You give the best fucking head, bats. Couldn’t help it.” 

Tracing his jawline with your finger, you smile at his praise. “Think you can handle one more? Or you just want to lay back and watch me touch myself?”

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. His answer dies in his mouth when he looks up at you—and Ozzy, you’re fucking beautiful. With your lips plump, eyes glazed in mutual titillation. Like you’re not just fucking, like you didn’t just suck him off just to replenish your venereal hunger. But he doesn’t know what it is, and so do you (though only because you try to ignore the real reason you can’t fathom).

“Me? I can handle more. Fuck me in the ass if you want, bats,” he presses a quick kiss. “You got any condoms?”

With a hand on his shoulder, Eddie keeps you in place as you lean across the bedside table and clumsily open the drawer. You pull out a pack, splayed out in the wooden cabinet from its box, holding it between your middle and index finger as you wiggle your eyebrows at him. “I got twenty more.”

“Easy there, mama,” his voice is low and almost growling as he looks at your lips. The mixtape whirls as you rip the package open with your teeth. Seek and Destroy by Metallica starts playing, your fingers taking the condom from the foil and placing it on your mouth, lips around the plastic ring before you bend down to wrap the condom around his cock. “Fuck.Where’d you learn that?”

You take him fully in your mouth again, cheekily sucking before you pull out and push your hair out of your face. “Steve Harrington. Junior Year,” Eddie gawps. “Right after Nancy Wheeler dumped him.”

“Holy shit,” despite the panging jealousy, he laughs in shock. “You’re something else, baby.”

Baby.

Heat brushes your cheeks, makes you laugh shyly as you take his sensitive cock in your hand. “Lay back down.”

Eddie complies with the help of your hand pushing his back to the bed. You kneel, hand grabbing his cock and straightening it until his tip’s prodding your entrance. You keenly breathe in when you sink, his thick girth splitting your wet pussy open. He lets out a moan that’s almost painful, greedy hands coming to palm your waist to help you sink.

“Shiiiiiiit,” you gasp. “God, you feel fucking amazing, Eds. So fucking big.”

“That’s it mommy. God, so tight,” Eddie’s eyes drip heavily. “You like my dick?”

His neck stretches when you choke him, his head falling back. “Fucking love your fat cock,” you mewl, throwing your head back. Eddie removes his hands from your waist to palm at your tits, feeling his mushroom bulge in your stomach once you’ve fully sat. 

Barely a minute after he’s fully in, you begin moving. The wet sound of your pussy dragging up from his length makes you even wetter, dripping down his navel, his happy trail all sticky. Your hand leaves his neck to scratch on his chest, watching as slanted, red marks paint his skin and his tattoos before you drop down. 

Eddie moans, his feet planting up the bed once more to rest your curved back. “You look so pretty,” he pants. “Riding my cock. Touched myself every night to the thought of this. And I know it’s wrong, bats, but I couldn’t fucking help it. I’d—I’d bend a pillow and fuck it, thinking it was your pussy. And all along I thought you’d let me have my way with you. But I was so wrong.”

You grind and bounce at an adequate pace, your walls clenching around him, your ass slapping against the skin of his thighs everytime you come back down. Eddie relishes in the blissful haze hailed upon you, your eyebrows scrunched and raised, jaw slack as you let out mewls with the same volume as his. Almost to the point that the loud music can’t even drown out your euphoric cries.

The tears began forming from the stinging overstimulation, his cock twitching immediately and he feels so raw. His vigor shredded and he submits himself to you, laying and moaning beneath your sedulous fucking. 

And he knows, even with the rubber separating his flesh to yours, that everything has changed. No one else could fuck him the way you do, the way you sucked him off, the way you ruled over him and his body. Eddie’s tears choke his moans, the ebony makeup spilling down to your white sheets, your nails scratching all over his tattoos as you bounce faster.

“Jesus. You fucking whore,” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, eyes slamming shut as you bounce. You glow with the sheen layer of sweat coating your body, breathtaking in all your pulchritudinous galore. Eddie traces the stretch marks on your thigh and thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful than the rare sight of you all pleasured and his. “God, Eddie, you feel so amazing.”

Your head ducks, a sob coming out of you. Your heart palpitates, the shattering sensation of being fucked open by your best friend gives you blindsiding revelation that you would rather be with him than anyone else. Because the touch of his hands is nothing but comforting after your cruelty. 

You bounce faster on his cock. Eddie’s tears are stained with gray rivulets, coming up to sit and push your chest against him so he can hug you. Your hand tangles itself on his unkempt hair, nails scratching his back, whereas he’s muffling his growls by biting on your shoulder. Eddie kisses his way to your neck, sucking and biting a love bite in. 

“I’m close, bats,” he pants against your sweaty flesh. “I’m gonna fucking cum. I can’t hold it in.”

“Okay,” you nod, pulling away to press your forehead against his. You exchange breathy moans, your bounces now with the help of Eddie as you slowly lose your energy. “F-fuck. All this time I’ve been searching for some rando to fuck. Should’ve just gone to you.” He wedges his hand between your bodies, his fingers dancing across your clit that makes you bump your forehead harder with his. “Fuck, Eddie. Cum. I wanna feel you cum.”

Eddie keens on his orgasm, and so do you. Sobbing and mewling into each other’s mouths as your grinding slows down, feeling his warm cum fill his condom, your own climax covering the rubber. He runs his hands up and down your back, before they come up to your shoulder and cup your face, pushing your hair aside so he could kiss you.

A kiss sweeter and more innocent than the first one. Eddie takes your wet lips into his, soft with his pants and his touch. And with his lips still yours, he helps you kneel up to pull his softening cock out of your gaping cunt. You hiss lightly, a tear coating your eyelashes that he wipes away as he sits you down on his thigh. 

“That’s it, mama,” his voice is raw and croaky, you rest your head on his shoulder, hands leaving you momentarily to pull his condom out. You watch as Eddie tiredly ties the condom, reaching the bin beneath your bed and throws it inside before he’s hugging you again, fingers rubbing your jaw and thigh. “You did good, bats. Tired?”

You nod your head. Eddie urges you to lay on the bed, where you lay on your side and prop your head up with your hand, He wipes the eyeliner off with the side of his thumb, eyes never leaving you.

“So,” you scratch the column of your neck. “That was intense. Didn’t know the Dungeon Master had it in him to call me mommy but, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Shut up,” he pushes on your shoulder, mimicking your position. Eddie’s fingers trace the curvatures of your waist, hovering over your stretch marks. “I didn't know you had it in you. Did you suck Harrington like that too?”

You laugh, hiding your eyes. “No. No, I never blew him. He’s very eager with giving head, it's insane.” Eddie smiles. “But he’s really good at it. He’s got a bit of a breeding kink. Kept whining about condoms but.”

“At least he’s good at giving head,” his rings are cold against your skin. Scooting closer, Eddie nestles his cheek on the side of his elbow. “So I know we literally just finished having sex but…are you still up for another?”

“Jesus, give me a break. I’m not a machine y’know,” he laughs. 

“That’s not what I meant,”

You bite your lip nervously, taking his hand into yours and staring at the difference of its sizes. Your fingers were more slender than his, but his hand  in general was bigger. “I’m still up to play house. I really liked the whole mommy thing.”

Eddie smiles, seraphic and pretty. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you brush the curls away from his face. “Uncle Wayne wouldn’t be here for a couple hours. My parents are still out. So we can fuck for as long as we want.”

Your offer excites him. Eddie takes your cups your face and kisses you once more, deciding to worry about what would happen after all this later.

[hellfirecvnt]

Perv Eddie smut please!

You and the hellfire gang are playing truth or dare. Eddie teases you that you can’t turn him on, you are one of the guys so it won’t work. When you whisper the dirtiest things in his hear his mind is changed officially. Everyday after that he can’t look at you the same way. You’ve turned him into a huge pervert, stealing your panties and thinking degrading feral thoughts.

WOW OKAY. PERV!EDDIE HAS BEEN ON MY LIST I JUST COULDN'T THINK OF A GOOD PROMPT AND THIS IS PERFECT!!!

Finish What You Started

Perv!Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Warning: Smut near the end (+18 minors DNI), perv!eddie, peeping tom, Somnophilia, unprotected sex, more?

[I take requests]

Another thrilling campaign was concluded tonight. Eddie was feeling particularly on top of the world having outsmarted the entire Hellfire Club, leading to their unfortunate (character) demise.

"Better luck next time, gentlemen... Y/N." He adds you at the last second, a testament to his "gentlemanly" ways.

"You knew what you were doing with that banshee, Munson." You huff, recalling the way you forgot they can sense life from five miles away, eliminating any chance you had for a surprise attack.

"Of course I did, dude. That's the point." He laughs, lightly punching you in the shoulder. "Now, don't be a sore loser. We're all going back to my place to celebrate my awesome campaign."

It was common for Eddie to host a "party" for the club at the end of a campaign. This time differed only in his ego being as big as the building tonight, having won and all. You and the rest of the guys give a cheer in confirmation, already prepared to get tore up from the floor up.

The group files outside, and you catch a ride with Eddie as you have a million times before. Jeff hops in his car and Gareth drives Dustin and Mike in his.

"You have fun tonight?" You laugh in Eddie's van as it smoothly coasts to his nearby trailer.

"Oh, sure. My favorite part was you, Y/N knower of all monsters and spells, insufferable know-it-all DnD extraordinaire, forgetting the one thing that makes a banshee, a banshee." He taunts, earning a playful scowl from you.

You arrive at the trailer within minutes, the rest of the club close behind. Everyone gathers in the empty living room as they have time and time before. Eddie tosses a bottle of beer to everyone except Mike and Dustin, but they don't mind. They're just happy to be here.

"Next week, prepare yourselves for perhaps my most sadistic adventure to date!" Eddie, buzzed, displays grand showmanship as he describes next week's sneak peek. The hang out shifts from DnD talk, to sporadic jam sessions, to crazy stories, until finally Dustin suggests Truth or Dare.

"What are we, five?" Gareth teases.

"No, no. This could be fun. Start us off, Henderson." A drunken Eddie hands Dustin the floor.

"Uh, okay. Jeff, truth or dare?" Dustin looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Huh, I guess dare." Jeff isn't the confessing type.

"I dare you to take a shot of the hottest hot sauce Eddie has in his house." Dustin looks at an elated Eddie. He scurries back to his room and comes back with a black glass bottle.

"Turn it up, Jeff." Eddie snickers.

"What is this? Is this even hot sauce? Is this drugs?" Jeff opens the small lid and sniffs.

"No, dumbass. It's ghost pepper extract. My uncle bought it as a gag gift for me one Christmas. It feels like tongue fucking a stove eye." Eddie slouches into the couch, watching for Jeff's reaction. He turns the small bottle up, one big gulp, and he looks at the rest of us.

"It's not really that bad." His lisp is multiplied by 7 and his eyes are steadily pouring tears, but other than that, he doesn't waver.

"Jesus Christ." Dustin marvels, laughing as Jeff's tears soak his shirt. "You're turn, Jeff."

"Eddie, you son of a bitch. Truth or dare?" Jeff laughs through deep breaths.

"Hey man, all I did was supply the sauce. Henderson's the one who dared you. But, truth." Eddie smirks, certain there's nothing he'd be too scared to admit.

"Why do all the models in the Playboys you buy look like Mike's mom?" Jeff asks smugly. The entire room erupts into laughter, except for Mike.

"Come on, guys," Mike groans.

"To be fair, Mrs. Wheeler is a dime." You add, fueling Mike's discomfort.

"I'm gonna claim it's completely coincidental." Eddie chuckles.

"Yeah, right. We've all seen Mike's mom," Gareth starts, causing Mike to groan yet again. "It doesn't really take much to set you off, man."

"Yeah honestly anything with a pussy and a pulse could probably find a way into Eddie's bed." Jeff laughs.

"That's a lie. Y/N has a pussy probably and I've never wanted to fuck her. She's one of the guys, it just can't happen." He sits with a proud look on his face as if he proved anything.

"Probably?" You repeat to yourself as you lift your waistband, making sure she's still down there. Eddie picks Gareth and dares him to call his mom posing as a toaster repair service. It goes to hell and she hangs up furiously. The trailer nearly shakes with drunken laughter.

"Y/N, truth or dare?" Gareth points to you across the living room.

"Uh, dare, I guess." You chuckle, eager to see what bullshit they're gonna have you attempt.

"I dare you to turn Eddie on." Gareth grins wickedly, aware that Eddie just said it couldn't be done.

"Good luck, bud. It's gonna be like having Jeff try to get in my pants." Eddie jokes.

"Alright, lemme give it a try." You lean over to Eddie, cupping your hand around his ear as you begin to whisper.

"You have no idea how many times I've touched myself while imagining you throat fucking me as hard as you can, forcing yourself into my throat while tears fall down my face." You start. "I think about the way your cock would twitch inside me while you came in my tight, little pussy. And then I'd finger myself afterward, just to taste us mixed together." You let your breath wash over Eddie's neck before you pulled away.

Eddie's eyes widen in shock. The room fills with boyish giggles as his cheeks become a rosy color.

"Jesus, Y/N. What'd you say to him?" Gareth slaps his hands together once, laughing with everyone else. Eddie is stunned, unable to look at you for a moment, and unable to speak.

"I dunno, but I don't need to see him pitch a tent to know I did it." You smirk proudly, relishing in the buzzed confidence.

Jesus Christ Eddie thinks to himself. He racks his brain for a single memory that could be warned him you'd never be capable of saying something like that.

"Mike, truth or dare?" You somewhat slur.

"Please don't make it about my mom," He begs.

"Truth or dare, Wheeler? C'mon." You bypass his request, gesturing for him to give you an answer.

"Ugh, truth."

"Does your mom still have that necklace? The golden charm with a strangely placed pearl?" You fight to contain your laughter.

"Yeah, I think so. Why?" Mike furrows his brow.

"You guys, Mike's mom has one of those pussy necklaces. It's like fancy, but it's meant to look like a vag. I swear to God." You describe it to them, and they all confirm they've seen it.

"Guys, seriously?" Mike whines.

"Your mom fucks, Mike. Get over it. Don't dull her shine." You turn up your beer as punctuation on your sentence.

"I'm not dulling her shine, I just don't want to hear about it!" He throws a pillow at you, laughing. "And she's married! I have a dad!"

"Show off." Gareth jokes. The rest of the night is full of laughter and more Mike's Mom Jokes than anyone could've really prepared for. Eddie stays much quieter, eventually excusing himself to the bathroom.

The second the door was shut, a deep, desperate sigh escaped his mouth. Drunk and hornier than he thought possible, he splashes water in his face a few times before finally giving in and fucking his fist in the bathroom. He replays your breathy whispers over and over, cumming faster than he ever has.

A wave of shame washes over him as he reassesses what just happened. He chocks it up to being drunk, and you being pretty. Sure, she's always been hot. We're still just pals, though. I'm just a horny drunk. He reasons with himself.

The next day, Eddie wakes up with morning wood. His dreams were consumed by thoughts of your soft lips brushing against his ear as you spoke. He covers his eyes with his hands and groans. Something in him wants to be ashamed of how perverted he's being, but it's your fault, right? He strokes himself until he finishes, quietly mumbling your name as he does.

Usually, when Eddie was feeling particularly pervy, he could satiate the thoughts by cumming. But it wasn't working this time. Desperate just to hear your voice, he calls you.

"C'mon. Pick up, pick up..." He twirls the spiral phone cord around his finger, but your phone goes to voicemail. You got pretty drunk, it's no wonder you're still asleep at- he checks the clock- 6 AM?! No wonder it's still dark outside. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth, hatching an idea.

On the weekends, your parents go out of town for business. Because of this, Eddie knows various ways of entering your house, for friendly reasons, of course. Until now. He gets dressed and heads out his trailer door to his van. He's speeding, actually speeding to get to you faster.

Your front door is locked, as he would expect. So he treks around the side of your one-story house to your bedroom window. He reaches his ring-clad fingers to the window pane, carefully drawing closer, face stiff with focus.

The lamp next to your bed is still on, a clear indication of how drunk you were when you went to bed. The dim light illuminates Eddie's dark figure outside the glass. He reaches to open the window, as he had plenty of times before regardless of you being asleep or awake, but then he stops.

He notices the way you're laying in your bed. Face down, one leg straight and the other bent and hiked up next to you. Your arms wrap around the pillow under your head. His eyes fix on your sleep shorts, the way they've ridden up, exposing the entire bottom half of your ass cheeks.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N. What did you do to me?" He grunts, palming himself through his jeans. He finally reaches for the window and slides it open, not caring if you wake up or not. It wouldn't be the first time you woke up to him in your room. It would, however, be the first time Eddie rummaged through your panty drawer.

He cataloged every fabric and style in his mind, imagining the way each pair would look on your round hips. He then spots a pair sitting at the top of your laundry hamper. A sexy silk thong with embroidered text that reads "Eat Me." He already knows exactly which sex shop you got them from.

Without thought or reservation, he lifts the underwear to his face, inhaling your scent. He tangles his fingers in the smooth fabric as his jeans tighten. He's brutally shaken from his lustful trance when he hears you shift on the bed. He shoves the panties into his back pocket and adjusts himself the best he can.

"Mmm, hey man. What time is it?" You mumble in a raspy voice that makes Eddie's cock twitch.

"I uh, I'm not sure." He scratches his neck nervously, hoping you don't check the clock right next to you.

"Hell yeah." You reply, as if to the wrong conversation. You're back asleep not long after. A sigh of relief falls over Eddie. He gently creeps up to you in your bed, placing a light-as-a-feather hand over your skin where your skimpy shorts didn't cover. Goosebumps flood your skin under his gentle grazes.

He grips his bulge, desperate to calm the raging erection in his pants. He imagines waking you up by slipping his throbbing cock inside you. The way you'd moan and clench around him, pulling him deeper and deeper inside you with every full-force thrust. Drool threatens to fall from his lips before he snaps out of it, and steps away.

As many weird kinks and fantasies as he has, he's never felt this out of control. He bites his fist, searching for any sensation besides the burning need to fuck you while you sleep. He shakes the thoughts from his mind the best he can before collapsing in your giant bean bag chair, falling back asleep.

Eddie wakes up to the sound of you clinking around in your bathroom. Doing your make-up and brushing your teeth. He can't recall his dream, but glued to the inside of his eyelids is the image of you looking up at him with his dick in your mouth.

"Fuuuuuck." He groans aloud.

"You okay?" You pop your head out the door. Eddie stares at you for a moment, unable to reply. "Eddie?"

"Yeah, haha. Sorry, hungover." He throws on a convincing nonchalant smirk. You're none the wiser.

"I'll be ready in just a second. Hope I haven't made you wait too long!" You call from the bathroom. Eddie stands from the comfy bean bag and stretches. He idly slides his hands in his back pockets, rediscovering the panties he's "borrowing" from you. He stuffs them deeper into his pocket when he hears you coming.

You emerge from the bathroom, a trail of light floral, expensive-smelling perfume in your wake. The scent fills Eddie's senses, causing his eyelashes to flutter.

"What's the plan for today, dude?" You ask innocently.

"I dunno. I figured we could play it by ear." He shrugs.

"Is it hot outside today?" You ask, holding up a pair of the shortest cut-offs Eddie has ever seen. Without missing a beat, he replies.

"Yup. High 90s I've heard." He doesn't watch the weather channel. You huff and disappear to the bathroom once again to change. It never occurred to Eddie how slutty you dress outside of school until now. You were notorious for tiny skirts and mesh body suits. The thought of any of your previous "going out" outfits that he once looked over makes him nearly jizz in his pants.

You emerge again from the bathroom, long legs fully on display. Eddie can't help but imagine how well they'd fit over his shoulders. He shakes his head, expelling his thoughts, or at least trying to.

"Oh! We should go to this new little ice cream shop downtown." You suggest, knowing Eddie would never turn down food after he smokes. You spark up a joint and pass it to him, his hand shakes as he grazes against your fingers. "You sure you're okay, man?"

"I'm fine, just waiting for you all morning." He quickly attempts to cover up his anxious horniness. "But ice cream sounds awesome, let's go." The two of you take a couple more hits off the joint and you tap the roach out into your ashtray.

In his van, Eddie can't help but watch the way your chest bounces with every bump and pothole he hits. He nonchalantly begins swerving into them, hoping for bigger potholes to shake you more.

"Jeez, they let this road go to hell, didn't they?" You criticize.

"Right? What are we even paying taxes for?" He jokes. You're the only person in the group with a job and it's only 2 days a week for 4 hours per shift at the arcade. Eddie continues to stare at your chest, side eyeing every jiggle. He imagines how they'd bounce while he's shoving his cock into you.

He quickly shakes his thoughts away, just barely missing a curb as he pulled into the ice cream shop parking lot.

"This place better be delicious or I'm never trusting you to pick breakfast again." His voice is playful and he seems to be a bit more handsy than usual. He's no stranger to physical contact with his pals, but he can't help himself with you. Poking and teasing you as much as he can, just to feel your soft skin.

"Oh man, I didn't realize this is kinda breakfast for us." You giggle.

You order your ice creams, you pick your trusty favorite flavor and Eddie tries something that looks like it should've never been frozen, let alone scooped.

"Oh my God, it tastes like grass." Your face scrunches in disgust.

"Yeah, I don't know why I thought something this dark green would taste good." Eddie digs through his cup of strange frozen dairy attempting to distract himself from the way your pierced, pink tongue travels from the cone to the tip of your ice cream.

Suppressing a moan, he reaches into his pocket, running his rough, calloused fingers over the soft silk of your panties.

"Y/N, about um, yesterday. What you said during truth or dare." Eddie starts.

"Oh shit, sorry man. I was getting super buzzed by that point. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable or anything." You reach a hand out to his, hoping you didn't cross a line last night.

"Oh God, no. You didn't do anything. I uh, I was just wondering if," he scratches the back of his neck nervously. "If you meant it."

Your cheeks flash hot as you remember exactly what you whispered to him. None of it was a lie or even an exaggeration, but you couldn't read his tone well enough to admit it.

"Oh, God no. We're like best buds." Now you're the nervous one.

"Right, yeah. Of course." He chuckles, fixing his eyes on his green frozen treat. The ride back to your house is awkward and sexually tense, but you can't tell if it's you or him. The tension evaporates slowly throughout the day until Eddie is once again alone in his trailer.

He lays in his bed, stroking himself with your panties pressed firmly against his nose. Vulgarly, he moans your name into the silk as he cums.

"Fuck." He groans as more as more images of you cloud his mind. Every time you've ever bent over to grab something. Every time you've had to readjust your tiny, barely-there tube top. Finally, he can't take it anymore, and he stalks to the house phone to call you, hoping you're still awake.

The second his fingers graze the phone, it rings.

"Hello?" Eddie rubs the sleep from his eyes.

"Hey." It's you.

"Woah, I was just about to call you." He laughs, relieved just to hear your voice.

"Yeah? What for?" You stall.

"We'll get to that when you tell me what you called for." Eddie smirks.

"Oh, I uh... I couldn't sleep so I was wondering if you'd come smoke with me."

"Wow, calling me for free weed? Low." He jokes before agreeing and hanging up.

Back at your house, you find yourself becoming nervous. You really did call because you couldn't sleep, but like the whore you are, the real reason was just hoping to be around Eddie for a little longer.

"Knock, knock." He vocalizes while knocking on your window. He climbs through and passes you an already lit joint. You take it graciously and take a long drag, hoping to calm your nerves. "Can't sleep, huh?"

"Nah. You too?" You pass the joint back to him.

"No, I just- I was working on the next campaign." He's lying. He has at least two adventures queued up at all times.

"No banshees, I hope." You eyeball him, taking the joint from his hands.

"No, no banshees this time." He smiles, enveloping you in his shining, dark brown eyes. He paces around your room, scanning your knick knacks as he usually did before sitting on the side of your bed with you.

You're so close to him, your soft thigh nearly brushes against his. You pass him the joint, but his distracted hands fumble and drop it on your carpeted floor.

"Shit," he snaps as he quickly leans down to grab the burning joint. You notice something in his pocket, aside from his regular bandanna. It's a familiar black silk with red lettering. Your underwear.

"Eddie," you furrowed your brow, still staring at the cloth in his pocket. "Are those my panties?" His face instantly turns red. He quickly straightens back up on the bed, wide eyed, unable to find an excuse.

"I uh, I-" he stutters, certain you'll never talk to him again after this.

"Have you been... carrying these around?" You question. Eddie raises an eyebrow noticing the tone if your voice sounds excited, not accusatory.

"I just-" he starts, but you cut him off.

"Have you been touching yourself, holding my panties?" A wicked grin spreads across your face. You begin to lean forward, confidently. Eddie's breathing gets heavier as you draw closer, filling his nostrils with the sickly sweet scent of your perfume.

"I don't know what you did to me the other night, Y/N. But I haven't been able to stop thinking about it." He huffs, inches away from your lips.

"Good, because I fucking meant it." You tease in a whisper before connecting your lips to his. A desperate moan vibrates against your mouth as Eddie firmly wraps his arms around you. His fingertips dig into any skin they find. He clings to you, pulling you closer and closer until you're in his lap, grinding against his bulge.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" He questions you between kisses.

"I dunno, I was fine with my fantasies. You're the one that couldn't help himself, you fucking pervert." You moan the last word against his lips, causing his eyes to roll back. He knew you were right.

He slips his hands under your shirt, sliding them up your back. He brings them to your breasts, running his thumbs over your hard nipples.

"No bra?" He licks his lips, focusing on the movements of his hands over your skin. Soft moans fly from your lips as his hands get rougher and rougher the longer he toys with you. He suddenly shifts and throws you back into your pillows. "I am going to fucking ruin you." Eddie grins.

He swiftly and easily swipes your shorts and panties off in one go, stuffing the new pair of underwear in his pocket proudly. Without much warning, he dives his tongue directly into your dripping cunt. You both moan on contact, your eyes rolling back as his tongue found every single angle that made you want to scream.

He digs his nails into your thighs, pulling you more and more into him. He eats you out until you're almost literally seeing stars. Having came at least twice since he started.

"Eddie, please!" You yelp as you pull at his frizzy hair, desperate to be fucked.

"Shhh, doll." He coos from between your legs. His lips and chin are glossy from your arousal. "I want you to show me what your mouth can do, first."

Eddie withdraws from you, leaving your cunt begging for contact. Whiney moans escape you as you buck your hips against nothing. He stands and pulls his pants down to his knees before sitting back down on the bed. Instinctively, you slid into the floor on your knees in front of where he sits. The perfect height for your mouth to wrap around his cock.

You playfully refuse to open your mouth at first, but Eddie grips the hair on the back of your head and your bottom jaw, forcing your lips open for him. His grip remains on your hair, guiding your head up and down his shaft. You meticulously work your aforementioned tongue ring against his flesh, earning loud, vulgar moans.

"Jesus, fuck Y/N." He breathes as you hollow your cheeks around him, pulling your mouth off with a pop. You rub his head back and forth across the ball of your piercing, watching him squirm as you stimulate the sensitive skin. With one more loud growl, Eddie tugs your hair, signaling you to stand.

He switches your places, shoving you against the bed, ass up with your head shoved into the sheets. He pumps his middle finger into your on-display pussy. The cold of his rings biting against your entrance. You can't help but moan loudly, almost screaming just from his fingers.

"We can't have all that." Eddie chuckles as he reaches into his pocket and retrieves the underwear you were wearing not long ago. He balls them up and stuffs them into your whining mouth, muffling your moans. "That's better."

He strokes himself a few times before lining himself up and sinking into you slowly. Long, breathy moans emit from his chest as he thrusts over and over. By now, you're screaming into the wad of fabric in your mouth, drool pooling at your lips as you let the lust envelope your entire body.

You've had fantasies, of course. But nothing could've prepared you for the real thing. He continues to thrust into you, gently playing with your clit until you're squirming so much, that he can't hold you still.

He promptly removes himself from you, flipping you on your back. He reaches for the hem of your shirt, tearing it away from you.

"You are un-fucking-real." Eddie smirks as he marvels over your fully exposed body waiting, legs spread, just for him. In the blink of an eye, he's back inside you. Thrusting as hard as he can to make your tits bounce like they did in the van. You claw and grip at the sheets, eventually spitting the panties from your mouth to beg.

"Eddie, please, I'm- I'm gonna-"

"Not yet." He snaps.

"Eddie!"

"Not. Fucking. Yet." Each word punctuated by another hard thrust. His thrusts slowly became sloppy and offbeat. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you let out a loud cry as you finish, flooding his cock and pelvis. Eddie follows suit, throwing his head back as his dick twitches inside you, warmth flooding in your lower abdomen as he fills you with cum.

"E-Eddie..." You stutter as he's still fucking you, slowly riding out his orgasm. He collapses on top of you, still inside. His heavy breathing in sync with yours.

"God damn, dude." He gasps before slipping out of you. You close your eyes, relishing in the relief when he plummets another finger in your throbbing hole.

"Eddie!" You yelp, arching your back at the sudden contact. He chuckles, bringing the finger to your mouth, coated in each of your cum. You sensually lick his finger clean, watching as his eyes roll back.

"C'mere. Let me help you get cleaned up." Eddie extends a hand to you. You take it and stand on two wobbly legs as you attempt to make it to your bathroom. Cum leaks down your struggling legs with each step. Eddie helps you draw a bath and clean up before you both collapse on your bed.

"Here," you huff, passing him another joint.

"I think you're my dream girl." Eddie stares at you with his big, puppy dog eyes. "Seriously."

"About time you noticed, Munson."

The next Friday rolls around and the club torments you both relentlessly.

"Oh, don't worry. We know Y/N completed her dare." Gareth snorts.

"What does that mean?" You question, already blushing.

"I mean my house is right across from yours and I could see Eddie watching you through your window. Didn't look like his hands were praying." The curly headed guy laughs.

"Watching me?" You furrow your brow, growing slightly wet at the thought.

"Never mind that, it's time for Dungeons and Dragons. Bow to your Dungeon Master and kiss the rings." Eddie announces.

"No way, those have probably been inside Y/N's pussy." Jeff laughs, earning a playful arm punch from you.

"They have been in her pussy, that's what makes it oh so cool to kiss them." He winks at you, kissing the ring on his middle finger. The rest of the club groans and rolls their eyes.

•

(Bonus points if you got that Righteous Gemstones reference.)

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 019: The Piggyback

If you had the chance to do it over again with Eddie — and DO IT RIGHT — would you?

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020* * = somewhat smut , ** = smut

CW: hospital setting, dialogue heavy, uncertainty, fluff, talks of blood/broken bones/etc., car accident implications

word count: 2.5k words

“I’ll pick up these broken pieces ‘til I’m bleeding, if that’ll make it right.”

♡

Hawkins Memorial Hospital reeks of bleach wipes and bitter tears.

“Eddie…” Dustin wails. “No no no, noooo. Eddie…”

You’re sitting on the floor of the nurses station with Robin, Steve, and Nancy while the ‘kiddos’ occupy the waiting chairs. Surely, it's got to be unsanitary, but contracting germs off the floor of the ICU were the least of your concerns.

Your eyes follow Wayne as he helplessly wheels around, talking to anyone who would lend him an ear... anyone who would possibly know anything about his nephew’s condition.

“And my nephew — Eddie — he's self-employed,” Wayne continues to tell them.

Wheeling…wheeling…wheeling…

“But the Program he’s with allows him to go through Scott Clarke. You know Scott Clarke Insurance? It’s S-c-o-t-t, C-l-a-r-k-e… I’m through them too…”

But the able-bodied personnel are too fast for old Wayne, walking at a speed about 5mph while his frail fingers can only allow him up to 2 and a half. Just like the liters of oxygen he is on.

“Does he have a case manager assigned to him yet?” Wayne wonders. “If so I would like their name, please.”

Eventually Wayne’s voice fades the further away he gets. And just so you don't wallow in your misery, you go to your phone to see if anyone else has been reaching out to you for updates.

Justice (Hellfire)

Omg just heard the news! Hey girlie, is Eddie ok??? Can we come see him yet??

Just as you expected. Annoyed, you respond.

Girl fuck you

Suddenly a hand squeezes your kneecap. You didn't realize how aggressively you were tapping your feet until Max stops you.

“Doing okay, sis?”

“Yeah I'm just...” you sigh. “…going through all the emotions I guess. And in a fucked up way, I'm kinda convinced this is all my fault."

“You're a dumbass," she scowls at you. "How could you have possibly seen this coming? This was not in anyone’s control."

“I broke the rule,” is all you say. “We never go to bed angry.”

The odds have always been against you. You would think you knew that by now. It was probably why you spent all morning beating yourself up; because you knew that if you did, there's a huge possibility that Eddie would pull through. The Universe is twisted like that.

Suddenly, a pair of white coats are seen coming out of Eddie's room. Everybody in the party immediately stands, like it's some formation exercise at a bootcamp of sorts. Wayne eventually circles back as well, gazing up at Dr. Owens with hopeful eyes.

“Eddie is going to be okay,” Owens concludes. “You can all breathe now.”

The room fills with bone-weary, but nonetheless celebratory cheers. Owens and Eddie's nurse, Nurse Patty allows everybody to hug one another in relief. Eddie's doctor goes to speak again when the clamor dies down.

“But he did have to undergo emergency surgery,” Dr. Owens adds. “And he lost a lot of blood, so we have him on additional transfusions, as well as an antibiotic for an infection caused by his wounds. The plan for him is to recover, hopefully get him up with therapy when the time is right, and then he can get out of here.”

“Can we see him?” your voice cracks.

“That is up to him," the doctor responds. "But for now, what the young man told me is that he wants chocolate pudding... and to see his Uncle and girlfriend."

You and Wayne waste no time. Unlocking the brakes of his wheelchair, you lug Eddie's uncle into ICU room #010, unsure of what is to greet you behind the curtains.

The room is littered with juice and jello, laced by an overpowering bleach-esque fragrance that most likely was there to mask the innate smell of blood and other bodily fluids.

Beep, beep, beep, goes the familiar IV machine. And funny enough, Eddie has his TV on, blasting South Park on full volume, exactly the way it normally would be playing at the Harrington-Munson estate.

"…tell everyone the truth about whose fault this is! I didn't do anything!" ... "...you KNEW about the prank, you could've stopped it at any time, but you didn't say a word. SILENCE IS VIOLENCE!"

And there is Eddie, dressed in a mesh-fabric gauze bandana, a worn-out beige hospital gown, with matching grippy socks. His entire lower lip is busted, left arm in a cast, both of his heels elevated with blood-saturated pillows. And his hair... you didn't even want to think about the matting. But that is ground to be covered much later.

When Eddie sees the two of you, he only utters one sentence:

“Does this mean I finally get that motorcycle?”

“You fucking idiot!” you wail going in to hug him.

Eddie chuckles solemnly as you completely fall into his embrace, soaking his gown with your salty tears.

"I thought we lost you, Eddie,” you whisper in his ear as you sniff your tears away. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if we did...knowing what I said."

He strokes your hair. "You have every right to be mad at me. I've been such a shitty boyfriend to you."

“I second that,” Wayne huffs, crossing his arms. “The idiot part, I mean… but I’m glad you’re okay, son.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Wayne,” Eddie grumbles. “I knew those Eddie Stops would catch up to me one day.”

Eventually, the rest of the party spills in, starting with the batallion of younger Hellfire boys who were inconsolable all morning, absolutely petrified of losing their role-model.

"Jesus,” Dustin breathes. “We thought you were a-goner!”

"Hey guys, good to see ya," Eddie grins, soaking up every bit of attention from his little minions as they all pile on top of him. Suddenly, he flinches. "Hey hey hey, watch my IVs! I've got an important med running through that piggyback."

"Right, sorry," they all utter in unison as they separate themselves from him.

Steve is next in line to give Eddie a hug, followed by Robin, and Nancy, and soon Jonathan. Chrissy and Argyle are the next people to trail in, with Henry and Nina at their tail. Then, the Corroded Coffin boys soon after.

"Eddie, oh my god!" Chrissy cries. "Don't you ever scare any of us like that again!"

"Good to see ya, Chris," Eddie smiles, giving her a one-armed hug. "Hey Neens! Creel! Villalobos. Boys.”

"So not cool man," Argyle shakes his head. "So not cool. We were worried sick for you."

As you all iron out the details, it is discovered that Eddie got into the accident shortly after leaving your place. He, in fact did, pull an Eddie Stop, failing to see the car coming at him from his left side, which then resulted in him getting T-boned. The other driver was okay. In fact, he was the one who called the ambulance for him.

"How much longer until you're discharged?" Nancy asks.

"I'm not too sure," Eddie sighs. "Hopefully in a few weeks."

He fails to sit up completely, wincing once again when his pain drags him down. Everybody nearly rushes to his aid, tenderly lowering Eddie back onto the bed while encouraging him to take it easy.

"Don't even worry about it, Eds," Lucas assures him. "We can hold down the fort."

"Oh that's reassuring," Eddie mutters sarcastically, shaking his head in discontent.

"What'd you say?"

"Nothing!"

---

You decide to stay with Eddie for the afternoon while everyone else goes home. A couple others stay behind as well, so you all take turns alternating, helping the nurses with their care and making sure Eddie isn't alone when a specialist from his team comes to see him.

But for now, it's just you and him, cuddled up in his rather stiff hospital bed, watching TV to pass time by.

"It feels weird sitting in place for once," he comments. "My body isn't used to laying down for a long period of time."

"Constantly in fight or flight, huh?" you tut. "Always on the go..."

Eddie whistles. "God, you have no idea..."

"Nah, I do," you insist, grabbing his hand to kiss it. "Our flights just look a lil different is all."

Suddenly, your phone rings again, causing both you and Eddie to jolt in shock. This time, it's your FaceTime ringtone... and on the other line, is Kassidy, quite possibly accompanied by the other Hellfire Girls.

"Jesus H. Christ," you mumble. "They've been spamming me all morning. Probably just wanna know how you're doing."

"Answer it," Eddie encourages you sharply. His tone is rather gruff, and urgent. "I need to talk to them."

Because you're nice enough to allow the girls the luxury of knowing their lord and savior is alive, you answer the call and hand your phone to Eddie. There's a slight pause before the call is connected.

"Hi," is all Eddie says.

"Eddie! OMG!" the girls squeal through the other line, of course all while failing to acknowledge you — the person whose number they called in the first place. "Are you okay?!"

"Yes girls, I'm fine..." he sighs. "How's Hellfire? Everyone holding down the fort?"

"Of course, just like we do best," Kassidy responds. "We just miss you, Eddie. What happened?"

"Got T-boned."

"OMG, whose fault was it?"

"Mine," he seems relatively short with them.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm in a little bit of pain. But I got some pain meds to help me."

"Thank God!"

Meanwhile, on the other side of the hospital walls, Nina and Chrissy stare at each other in bewilderment, a look that is naturally followed by one of disgust.

"Oh I know damn well..." Nina shakes her head.

"Stupid ass bitches," Chrissy adds.

Being the nosy girls they are, Nina and Chrissy crane their heads over into the room, eavesdropping on the FaceTime conversation between Eddie and the Hellfire Girls.

"Oh Eddie," Emmy pouts. "We're so glad that you're doing okay."

"Yeah, Eddie!" Lady chirps. "When do you think you'll be released?"

"Hopefully I'll be out in about two weeks," Eddie responds. "But I'll stay at home for a bit before coming back. You won't even know I'm gone."

The girls cheer obnoxiously on the other line. You try to act indifferent towards everything for Eddie's sake, but it's hard for you to feign something that so evidently isn't true.

Eddie senses it. And what he says next to the girls takes you by surprise.

"...But," Eddie says. "In that same amount of time, I expect your lockers to be cleared... as well as your side of the dressing room."

There's a brief silence while the girls try to piece together what Eddie means by that. Because surely it doesn't mean what they initially thought it meant.

"Why? Are we getting moved?"

"No, you're all getting terminated."

So it was exactly what they thought it meant.

"Wh-what? Why?!"

"What do you mean why?" Eddie demands.

He begins to list off everything they have done wrong, all of which they pretended to be oblivious about until now.

"The final straw is calling my girlfriend's phone, non-stop, knowing that's the only way to get through to me," Eddie goes on. "And not even acknowledging her! And even if you did, you all have some damn nerve considering what you guys did at Hellfire."

"You don't even have proof of us damaging her property though!" Justice argues. "So for all we know, you're just accusing us of things, Eddie."

"That's funny," you speak up. "Who said anything about property damage?"

Caught in their own trap.

The MAIN reason Eddie couldn't fire the Hellfire Girls when they put sugar in your gas tank was because you didn't have any proof that they did it, therefore it wouldn't hold up well if the girls decided to sue for wrongful termination. Again, lots of legalities to come in to play.

The girls were smart though. Choosing to wreck your car because they knew it was parked in the security camera's blindspot. Essentially, after the damage was done, it would be your word against theirs. And there was only so much that Eddie could do with the "subtle jabs". But now that you have a confession, Eddie can work off of that.

"But Eddie!" Justice whines. "This is so unfair. We've known you, and been at Hellfire longer than she has."

"Two weeks," Eddie reiterates, still firm on his decision. "That's enough time for you ladies to figure out the next step. I wish you the best of luck."

The ending of the FaceTime call wasn't a pretty one. It mainly consisted of denying and bargaining, all of which Eddie did not have the energy to be receptive to.

You and Eddie continue to hash it out with the girls over the phone, all while Nina and Chrissy were twerking in celebration because it meant more money for them during tip outs. And most importantly, celebrating you getting the justice you deserve...along with the possibility of you coming back.

"That was something I should've done way long ago," Eddie sighs as he hands you your phone back. "I hate dealing with legal shit."

"I'm sorry that they ended up being horrible," you frown.

"And I'm sorry that they ended up being horrible to you," Eddie counters. "I really wish I could've done more for you. But up until now my hands were tied legally, honey. And financially."

"It was a sticky situation," you mutter. "But...I knew you had a favorite."

He kisses your forehead once more and you lean into him again, resting your head against his chest and wrapping your leg around his torso.

"Ow, ow, OW!" Eddie yelps.

"Sorry!"

You asunder again.

"You think you're gonna find enough dancers in time?" you ask him.

"We'll be okay four dancers short," Eddie assures you. "And besides, more tips for the other ladies when it comes down to tip-outs. They did Hellfire a favor."

Exactly what Chrissy and Nina were thinking.

"Speaking of Hellfire..." Eddie quips. "Does this mean you're coming back?"

"Only if I'm still welcome."

"Of course you are, babe," Eddie chuckles. "Everyone there loves you."

Your heart flutters at the forsaken "L" word, uttered with so much certainty and fondness.

"...including me," Eddie adds. "I love you, man."

You bite your lip to contain your excitement as you blush, giving Eddie a light punch across his chest.

"I love you too...man."

And as a way to poke fun at you, Eddie flashes you a "surf's up" sign with his non-crippled fingers. He puts on his most pretentious California accent possible, one he learned how to do from Argyle.

"Righteous...man."

And before it could get any more intimate, Chrissy makes her way into the room, reaching into her tote bag to give you something she's been holding onto since she arrived.

You watch as she unveils a familiar velvet garment — your cloak. She gives you a courtly bow as she hands it back over to you, symbolizing an end to your very brief retirement from Hellfire, and a permanent seat at The Party's table.

"You know Hargrove, I believe..." says Chrissy. "...that this is for you."

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @mediocredreams @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay @xblueriddlex @maskofmirrors @babyloutattoo89 @queenofhawkins @feral-pumpkin-energy @bl0ssomanddie

[skyebounded]

eenie meenie miney mo

gif credit: @madmaxmayfleld

© Skyebounded, do not use my work, but you may share it.

.main masterlist. .stranger things masterlist.

premise: He's your friend, nothing more, but that doesn't mean that you can’t have some fun…right?

Warnings: it’s just smut if I am being honest. fingering, oral (f&M receiving), vaginal sex, dirty talk (kinda), swearing, and lets be honest there is probably more.

WC: 10.2k of pure smut.

A/N: This bad boy took me way longer than it should have. special thanks to my favs @23victoria​ and @ccosmic-illusion​ for their help and motivation, and to @anothernightsky​ for absolutely loving the idea and nursing it with me (even if she demands a series out of it)

If you had to choose, you know exactly what you would do. Billy, well he was hot, like extremely hot, exuding the very energy that he knew what he was doing, and knew how to do it well. If given the chance, you would undoubtedly sleep with him. Yes, you would loathe yourself after the fact, but at least it would be worth it. Other than that, he wasn’t the one for you. He was an arrogant asshole with a nice ass, but a pretty one at that. 

Eddie, well Eddie was one of your closest friends, your best friend if you will. Not to say that you didn’t find him attractive, but that didn’t mean anything. You had never really thought about him that way, simply because you had never really seen him that way, not fully. Eddie was the kind of guy that you only ever really hung out with, watched movies, and that sorta thing, he was good fun, he just wasn’t the fun that you wanted. You wanted the one and only, Steve Harrington.

You’d had the biggest crush on King Steve since, well since forever. How could you not, he was by far the hottest guy at school, he had perfect hair, not to mention dreamy eyes, a great ass (not as good as Billy’s but still pretty good), a gorgeous smile, the list could go on and on forever. He was all-around perfect. The only problem was you were nowhere on his radar, far from actually.

 You were not the kind of girl that Steve went for. You were no Nancy Wheeler. Not popular, not a cheerleader, not some ditsy girl who threw herself at him any chance they got. Nope, you were the polar opposite. You were like Eddie. A nerd, or freak if you will, and perhaps that’s why you were such close friends. You had so much in common. 

None of it stopped you, however. Despite knowing that he would never actually choose you if it came to it, it didn’t deter you from dreaming about it every…waking… minute. In fact, it was all you thought about. Steve Harrington owned your mind, your thoughts, hell if he wanted he could own your entire being. He was all you had wanted for as long as you could remember.

    “Okay but did you see him in those jeans today, like oh my god is he trying to kill me?” you exclaim, as you prop yourself up onto the table, leaning back on your hands. “Oh and not to mention the fact that he actually laughed at my jokes today. Like really laughed,” you continue, eyes wide as you explain, “I couldn’t help it, I made a joke about Mrs. Higgins today, and he heard it, and laughed. He even turned around and said ‘that was a good one’! Like Eddie, do you know what this means?” 

    “Of course, he laughed, you’re funny,” he states. 

He was too busy cleaning up from the campaign from the evening to expand on his response any further. He was collecting all the miniatures, and character sheets that had been tossed to the floor in excitement when the battle had been won. You know that you could have been helping, but your mind was so far from the chore, that you couldn’t be bothered. 

“Well yeah, I’m funny..But see he’s never laughed at any of my jokes before, so like what’s changed?” You ask rhetorically, letting the question fade. Eddie just hums along in response. You're not sure if he had tuned you out or not, but you didn’t really care. 

“I’ve seen him talking to Anna Wilkinson lately, you know her right?” you ask, and he doesn’t respond. 

    “She’s in my chem class, total idiot, but hey she's got nice tits I guess,” you continue. You look down, grabbing your boobs and giving them a squeeze, missing the way that Eddie watches you with a raised brow. 

    “I mean if that's all he wants..I mean mine are pretty good..right?” You look up at Eddie, who now had both brows raised, and a slight smile on his face. 

    “Are you asking me if you have nice tits, y/n?” 

You pretend to think on it, your head bobbing around, humming whilst you do. 

    “Yeah, that's exactly what I’m doing, Eddie,” you respond, the sarcasm laced in your tone. He just stares at you for a moment, the smile growing on his face. 

    “Let me get a better look,” he jokes, but you hop off the table and make your way over to him, your hands still cupping your chest. 

“Well?” his eyes drift down from your face, slowly making it towards your chest, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he meets it. 

    “Oh definitely, best I’ve ever seen, by far. Annie, Abby, whatever the fuck her name is doesn't even stand a chance,” he says with a wink, and you can't help but blush at his comment. 

    “Thanks,” you giggle. 

Eddie purses his lips and gives a curt nod, before going back to cleaning up. You’re silent for a moment, watching the way he bends over to grab the discarded pieces from the floor. Standing up and using his shirt as a means to hold everything.

    “Do you think he’d fuck me?” you blurt, not entirely sure where the question came from. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it, but something had triggered the topic.

“Why wouldn’t he?” he asks, turning to look at you.

“I don’t know, part of me feels like I’m not fuckable, you know?” you say with a shrug. 

He chuckles, making his way over to the table, releasing his shirt and all the contents in it clattering onto the linoleum surface.

“Trust me, you’re fuckable,” he remarks as if it was a stupid question, which it was to him. He steals a quick glance at you as you sit yourself back up on the table, his eyes roving over you before he stops himself, knowing that he shouldn’t be looking at you like this, especially not so obviously. “Extremely fuckable,” he mutters, more so for himself, but you still catch it, and a small wave of heat rushes through you, as you subconsciously squeeze your legs together. You don’t say anything, not sure what you would even say, instead you let the conversation die. 

“Do you plan on helping me at all or…?” He looks at you, brow raised. You look around only spotting a few other scattered items. 

“No, it looks like you’ve got it handled,” you joke, letting a grin take to your lips. Eddie just hums, his lips pressed together as he nods. You could see the smile he was trying to hide. Jumping down off the table, you collect the rest of the things from the ground, using your shirt the same way Eddie had. Bringing them over to him and dropping them onto the table. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah..” you couldn’t help but study him as he organized the loose papers, pushing them into his worn binder. 

“So…would you?” You ask, your voice holding a sense of anticipation to it. 

Eddie’s pointless organizational task halts, his famous brow shooting up in amusement. He cocks his head slightly, just enough for him to get a good look at you. 

    “Would I what?” 

He had an inkling of what you were referring to, given the topic of the evening, but he wanted to hear you say it. Looking at him, you were tempted to just come up with something random to say and avoid the topic as a whole, but your curiosity got the better of you.

    “You know…” you say, your tone sounding a little more whiny than intended. Eddie fully turns to you now, a smirk plastered to his oddly kissable lips. He was waiting for you to ask him, wondering if you would actually say it. You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for what the response would be. 

“Would you, you know…?” you ask sheepishly, gesturing to the length of your body. 

It doesn’t help when you spot his tongue brush across his lower lip, a sure sign that he was enjoying this. It always was. The sudden feeling of embarrassment creeping up on you, heating your cheeks. You were certain he could see it, because his smirk only got bigger. Eddie chuckles, knowing that you weren’t going to go into any more detail than that, so he figured he would just humor you. His teeth cheekily sinking into his lower lip as he shamelessly checks you out, his eyes drinking in all of you. 

    “Let me get this straight. You, Y/n want to know if I, Eddie, your best friend who just so happens to be a guy, emphasis on that part, would…if given the chance, fuck you?” he asks in a matter of fact tone. 

“Yes?” you lilt.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed, waiting to see if you would say anything more on the topic, while he debated on what answer he should give you. The slightest upturn to his lips on one side makes you feel nervous. 

“Absolutely, don’t even have to think about it.” he replies, flashing a quick smile. He stands there, staring at you for a moment longer before he's back to doing whatever he was doing earlier. It would have been an understatement to say that you were stunned. Suddenly feeling that familiar blush creep into your features once more. You had never thought about Eddie in such a circumstance, but hearing what he had to say made you all that much more curious. It wasn’t like you wouldn’t, if given the opportunity, but it wasn’t something you thought about, other than that one time.

           “I would fuck you, you know..just-“  you remark. You don’t know what came over you, why you felt the need to tell him that, but you couldn’t help it. He doesn’t look up at you, or even in your direction. He just chuckles. 

            “I know,” he says, stealing another glance at you, but this time you were looking at him with a deadpan look. “And I am very flattered.” he adds. The air is silent for a minute before you break it once more. 

            “Have you ever thought about..?” you start, watching as his brows shoot up as he fights back the amused look on his face. Of course he had, perhaps almost every other night, as much as he hated to admit it, it was a common re-occurrence for him. 

           “Thought about what?” he prods. 

Panic sets in, and you decide it's better to not ask what you were thinking. Quickly finding the hem of your shirt of greater interest.

     “Nothing, never mind, it-it was stupid.” You quickly pull your gaze from him, but he does nothing of the sort, eyes still glued to you as the fascination sets in, that he doesn’t even bother to stop himself.

“Eddie, do you ever things about what it would be like to fuck each other, no strings attached…No never…You?  He jokes, saying the last bit sarcastically, clearly lying. He had totally thought about it. He’s not sure if he meant to say that as loud as he did, but there was no taking it back now, so instead, he turned back to the table, now resting his hands against it, as he silently berated himself, rapidly tapping his index finger against the surface, hanging his head low. 

Shocked that he had said exactly what you had been thinking, you turned to him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

    “That..wha-what you said.” you say, pointing your finger at him for emphasis. “That’s what I was going to ask.” 

You watch as his tongue darts out just past his lips. Resting there as he processes it, slowly bringing himself to look at you. Nothing is said at first, nothing but the same awkward air settling between you. You’re not sure how long you’ve been staring at him, waiting for either one of you to say something, anything.    

Sitting in silence, you watch as Eddie’s beautifully dark orbs rove over your figure, taking note of the way your hellfire shirt sits perfectly on your frame, or the way your jeans hug your thighs. He knows he shouldn’t be looking at you like this, admiring you so sinfully, but since you’ve mentioned it, it's all he can think about.

His eyes meet yours and suddenly you become hyper aware of the very fact that you were so close to him and yet not close enough. It was your turn to shamelessly take in Eddie. Eddie was attractive, you had always thought so, but the thing that always seemed to stop you was the fact that you had only ever seen him as a friend. Someone you could hangout with, without the pressure to do anything more than just hangout, except now, now it was on your mind. Wondering what his lips tasted like, or what he would feel like underneath you or even on top of you. The way his lips would feel against your skin, the way his hands would feel gripping you tightly, or even no! Stop! 

         “I mean, not like I’ve fantasized about it or anything, but.um...” he says, pulling you out of your shameful series of thoughts. Your eyes snap to his, your face flushing as you wait for him to finish the topic, wondering what he was going to say next. Your brows shoot up expectantly, wondering why your clothes suddenly feel tighter and scratchier against your skin. 

          “What If,” he pauses, biting the inside of his cheek as he mulls over what to say. Eddie’s not quite sure if he should finish his train of thought, expose himself and the very thing he had been dreaming about since, well since forever. Growing wary of the silence, you take to speaking your mind. 

          “What if we hooked up? Like right now? I mean just to see what it’s like..could be fun,” you suggest, completely stunned at where it came from. The growing grin on Eddie’s face was indication enough that he was all for the idea, but that didn’t stop him from giving his two cents. 

          “Are you sure you’re okay with that? I mean our whole dynamic changes then..” 

you could have been mistaken, but it almost sounded like he was eager to do it despite the consequences. You couldn’t lie, the thought of the consequences hadn’t even crossed your mind, and even after he mentioned it, you couldn’t even bring yourself to consider them either. 

           “Nah it will be totally fine, nothing has to change right? I mean it’s just an experiment of sorts. It’s for fun.” You say, reassuring yourself more so than him, you think, giving an awkward shrug in the process. He gives you one last look of skepticism, before he moves over to you, practically gliding across the space, your eyes trained on his every movement. 

           “Exactly..” he mutters, and you find gaze glued to his lush lips. 

           “Should we go somewhere or?” You comment, looking around at the empty theatre department. It was late, inching closer to the ten o’clock frame, so the chances of someone coming in was slim, but there was still a possibility. 

            “Nah, we’ll be fine here, unless you want to,” he shrugs. Shaking your head, Eddie takes that as a sign to proceed. Moving closer to you once more, you instinctively move your legs apart, just enough for him to stand comfortably between. 

            “You’re sure right? Because if you’re not, just tell me.” 

Not even for a minute do you consider the possibility of calling it off, telling him that you made a mistake and that it’s a bad idea. No, you were far too eager to know just how fun this could actually be, and unbeknownst to you, so was Eddie. 

           “Yeah I’m sure, are you?” Brow raised, a challenged look in your eye. Eddie just chuckles like you had asked your second stupidest question of the night. 

           “Extremely.” 

A wave of heat rushes through you, mixed with the shivers that trail down your spine at his blunt comment. You had always known him to be as such, blunt, but for once it had some type of effect on you. 

Eddie’s calloused hands find you jean clad thighs, slow to inch their way up further, as he takes his final steps closer, face inches from yours. Its only then that you consider that maybe their should be some type of rules, some semblance of boundaries, as dumb as it sounded. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t kiss,” you speak softly, you can't help but feel the slightest bit of disappointment at your own suggestion, considering the fact that his lips looked absolutely delicious at this very moment. Pillow soft and begging to be kissed, but yet something about it felt too personal, too intimate. Eddie felt the slightest pang of hurt at the comment, but he shakes it. 

“Way to suck the fun out of it,” he sighs, hoping that you would change your mind. “You do know that friends kiss all the time, right?…besides, I can see how much you want to kiss me..” He suggests, his eyes trailing down to your lips as he licks his involuntarily. Even if he was joking, he was still correct, you did want to kiss him, desperately to feel his lips against yours.

“You wish, Munson. I’ll tell you what you can kiss me, just not on the lips.” 

A look of utter intrigue takes over his features, as he thinks of all the other places that he could kiss you. To him, you were ultimately giving him permission to kiss ever single fucking inch of your body without problem, and though he would love to kiss you like normal people do, he can’t help but feel some type of way knowing that he could kiss anywhere else. 

He holds his hands up in surrender with a frown, accepting that you aren’t going to change your mind, at least not without a little more persuasion. 

    “Fine you win, everywhere but your lips it is,” he says, “Any other fun things that you want to take from me?” 

Heat creeps to your face, as you suddenly find it hard to look at him. His hands find your thighs once more, this time slightly higher than they were. You couldn’t think of anything, or perhaps you just didn’t want to find anything else, so you just shake your head. 

    “Excellent.” 

    “So..what do we do?” you ask, your gaze straying from his. Eddie cocks his head, not sure what you fully meant by the question. 

    “Y/n, If I have to explain to you how to have sex, then maybe we shouldn’t be doing thing.” He shrugs, an amused frown on his lips. You scoff, rolling your eyes at his comment. 

    “You’re so funny, but that's not what I meant asshat, I meant how do we start this?” you huff. Eddie just chuckles.

    “Do you trust me?” 

It was your turn to find his question incredibly stupid, considering you were about to give yourself to him. 

    “That’s a stupid question, Eddie. Besides we both know that I only trust you as far as I can through you, and I can’t even pick you up.” 

He nods along, “Touche, okay then just relax and I will get us started, yeah?” His finger finds your chin, tilting it up ever so slightly so that he can meet your eyes, his brown orbs boring into you with a sense of anticipation. He gives you a quick wink, and lets go of your face, his hands coming down to the hem of your Hellfire shirt, the very one that was currently driving him mad. 

He was so thankful that you couldn’t see or even feel the semi-hard on that he was already sporting just beneath his jeans, because if you could... Slowly inching his hands underneath your shirt, you take over, pulling it from your form and tossing it to the floor. 

Eddie stares at you, clearly in some type of trance as his eyes rove over the curvature of your breasts held tightly by your little sheer red bra, the perfect contrast to your skin. His lack of words was starting to worry you as he just stood there, staring at you so plainly.

    “Damn, you're pretty,” he mumbles, looking like a child in a candy store, completely unable to pull his eyes away from you. He blinks a couple of times before he's somehow managed to pull himself together. Quick to resume his actions, his hand finding your jaw, guiding it so that more of your neck is exposed to him. His other hand falls to rest on the table, fingers hanging off the edge as they rhythmically tap against the side. Eddie presses a soft innocent kiss just below your ear, letting his lips and teeth glide over the curve of your neck ever so gently. His breath hot against your skin, mixed with the sharp pang of his teeth just over your pulse point was making your head foggy, and your legs weak. 

Eddie doesn't miss the way your nails do their best to sink into the wood of the table as he begins to lightly suck on your skin, assuredly leaving marks. If there was any part of you that was thinking logically, which there wasn’t, you might have told him to cut it out, but you couldn’t deny just how wonderful it felt to have his lips on your skin. 

His hand falls from your jaw, instantly finding your hip gripping it tightly as if it was his only anchor to reality, the slightest bit of sting from coldness from his rings against the burning contrast of your skin. Nipping at your neck, smoothing over the purple welts with his tongue. You let your mouth hang open as a moan leaves your lips. Goosebumps lining your skin with every touch, every little graze from his teeth, or from the way his breath fans across your heated skin. It felt strange to have your body reacting the way it was, considering the nature of everything, but it felt good.

Placing open mouth kisses along your collarbone, as he lowers himself just enough to kiss the soft skin on the tops of your breasts. Nipples hardening as a sense of avidity consumes you. You watch closely, hungrily, as his tongue darts out, tracing your nipple through the thin fabric of your bra, flicking his tongue over the hardening bud, as his eyes drift up to yours, catching your heated gaze, as he bites down on it, sending you into a fit. 

A groan from the back of your throat is ripped from you, as you gaze into his lustful brown eyes, the subtlest smirk on his lips, currently wrapped around your precious nipple. 

    “Fuck,” you breathe.

Eddie’s hand slides down to your ass, gripping it tightly as he suddenly pulls you forward on the table and into him. It's now that you can feel him pressing into your clothed core. You feel your walls clench at the slightest bit of pressure to your cunt. You needed him, needed some type of friction from him, and at this point, anything would do. Slowly rocking your hips against his, listening to the way he groans against your skin, and reveling in the way that it goes straight to your core. Eddie slowly begins to push you back against the table, leaving wet kisses down your sternum, his hand grazing the side of your body just right.

You let your eyes fall shut when your head hits the table, your back arches as something sharp digs into your spine. 

    “Oww!” 

Propping yourself up on your elbows, slightly peeved at that stop if Eddie’s actions, your lips already in a downturn. 

    “What? What's wrong?” Eddie asks, his brows knitted together and eyes narrowed as he scans over your face. 

    “This table is not it, Eddie, there is shit all over it,” you remark, pouting slightly, your bottom lip jutting out. 

He takes a quick glance behind you, picking up the culprit that had undoubtedly caused the problem. Humming as he examines the figurine. 

    “Hmm, I see…” he pauses, aimlessly scanning the room, “Okay give me a second, I have an idea.” 

Reluctantly he pulls away from you, giving you a once over with a smirk before he's disappeared behind one of the stage curtains. Faint sounds of him shuffling around are the only indication that he was still there. You had no idea what he was up to, but you hoped that whatever it was, he would do it quickly, because you were getting impatient. You didn’t want for whatever haze of ‘fucking your best friend for fun, and there is totally nothing weird about it at all,’ to wear off and for you to come to your senses. 

    “Eddie, what are you doing?” you call out. When he doesn't answer, you hop down off the table in search of him, disappearing behind the same curtain. Your eyes widen as you see what he was doing, making a makeshift pallet on the floor with blankets and pillows from different prop sets. 

    “And Voila.” 

You stare at him blankly, your brows slowly knitting together the longer you look at him. 

    “What the hell is this?” you chuckle. 

 “Listen, If you don't want this, I guarantee someone else will,” he remarks, gesturing to his body and the pallet with a cheesy grin. 

    “Oh I’m sure they would,” you joke,  looking back down to the makeshift pallet. If things were different, you might have considered his gesture a romantic one but as of right now, it was a simple solution to a problem. 

“Alright, milady, lay down!” 

“Oh my god, you're such a dork,”  You say, missing the little bow he gives you as you move past him. lowering yourself to lie down, using your elbows to prop yourself up as you look up at him.

The air holds a thickness to it as you both stare at each other expectantly, waiting for something to be said or done. Eddie moves forward, falling to his knees in front of you, his eyes trained on yours. Placing a few kisses on your sternum, moving down as he sucks, kisses and licks at your skin.

    “Eddie,” you moan, gathering all of his attention. 

    “Yes?” he asks coolly, despite actually freaking out on the inside.

Looking him up and down quickly, you sigh, “This is hardly fair, you’re still fully clothed.” 

You watch as the corner of his lips tug upwards, and a cheeky grin takes over, the slight alone making your core throb. 

    “If you wanted me to take my clothes off, you should have just asked, darling.”

You watch in awe as his tongue glides over his teeth, his hands finding the bottom of his hellfire shirt, and pulling it off in a fluid motion. You’d seen Eddie like this countless times, shirtless, hell you had even seen him in nothing but boxers before, and each time you took a moment to look him over, to just admire him, but this time felt different. This time you couldn’t peel your eyes from him, you wanted to see every inch, wanted to trace your finger over every tattoo, let your tongue glide across his skin even. You let yourself indulge, admiring his lean frame and the few tattoos that lined his skin for a few moments, curious if you would ever get to experience this again. 

He begins to crawl up the length of your body, using his arms to cage you, as he just barely hovers above you. The familiar chain and guitar pick dangling just before your eyes as a silent taunt, convincing you to grab it. Heartbeat hastening as you take in the scent of him, the musk with the subtle sweet elements, as he comes to a stop, face inches from yours. His sights set on your lips, wondering if he could get away with stealing a single

kiss, or if it would end up in you hitting him and being mad, risking all of this to come to an end. Wetting your lips, you nearly forget about the one rule set in place, thinking that maybe, just maybe it would be alright, that you could do it, and things wouldn’t end badly, but the thought is cut short when you feel the clasps on your bra break free. 

Eyes wide as you stare at him, wondering how you didn’t notice his hand now placed on your back.

    “Would you look at that..” he starts, brows raised in a sense of amusement, pulling the straps away from your arms as he pulls the thin fabric from your body. Looking down at you, shamelessly taking in the sight, he pulls his lips into a thin line. 

“Yep I was right, you have the best tits, Anna Wilkinson never stood a chance,” he says, pulling his gaze back to yours. Rolling your eyes, you give him a playful shove. 

“You are so goddamn cringy…just shut up and fuck me already,” you say with a smile, chuckling at the way his eyes widen. 

“Well, aren't you romantic?” 

Eddie’s index finger comes up to the top of your forehead, pushing your head back as a means to tell you to lay back down. Rolling your eyes you oblige, chuckling softly to yourself. 

    “One of us has to be, and from the looks of it, it has to be me.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. Bringing himself to hover back over you. Moving down your body slightly, taking one of your breasts in the palm of his hand, palming it all while listening to that little gasp that leaves you at the contact. 

    “Eddie?” you whine. 

    “Y/n…?” he retorts, mockingly. 

    “Hurry up..” you demand. 

Eddie, brings your perky nipple between his index finger and his thumb, looking up at you, pushing his lip out to mock you. 

    “Didn’t your parents ever teach you manners? Usually when you want something, you say that pretty little word, you know the one…it starts with a ‘p’..” he says, grinning wildly.  

You scowl back, not wanting to give him that satisfaction, but when he squeezes your nipple, you cry out a please, one to which he chuckles at. 

    “See that wasn’t so hard, now was it, baby?” 

He leans down, running his tongue over the bud, before he sucks it into his mouth with a soft moan, using his other hand to palm at your other breast, kneading it, taking in every sound that leaves your lips. Your hips move involuntarily, grinding against his to gain some friction against your aching cunt. Eddie groans loudly, pulling his mouth from you as he looks up at you like you had just done something unspeakable to him. It was almost like a switch had flipped in him. 

His fingers move to your pants, quick to undo the button of your jeans. He grabs your ankle, pulling the lace from your shoes as he pulls them off and tosses it behind him, moving to the next one.

“Thanks”

Eddie jerks your pants down your body, and tosses them to the ground.

“Anytime.”

He lowers himself so that his lips hover just barely over your navel, eyes glued to yours as his tongue darts out across your skin, letting it turn to open mouth kisses down your body. 

    “I’m going to be honest, I want to eat you out.” he states plainly, his fingers toying with the thin cotton fabric of your panties, waiting for any objections to leave you at his request. 

    “Well, then do it, Eddie,” you say, pushing your legs further apart, indicating that you wanted him to proceed. “I'm not stopping you.” 

Eddie bites down on his lower lips, biting back the shit eating grin that was taking over his lips. 

    “Oh trust me, nothing is stopping me other than these obnoxiously cute panties you’ve got on here, I just wanted to tell you.” 

He says, giving a brow wiggle to emphasize his point. Looping his fingers around the band on your panties, pulling them down your legs to expose your cunt. A wide grin expands across Eddie’s lips, running his tongue over them as he looks down at you. 

    “I know I said it already, but you are so fucking pretty…Can I-”     “Have at it big boy.” you chuckle at the way his eyes sat open wide and his mouth slightly agape. If you didn’t know any better you might have thought that he had been wanting this, waiting for a lifetime just to see you like this. He doesn't hesitate to touch you, running his fingers through your folds ever so sweetly, circling your entrance. Your eyes screw shut when you feel one of his fingers sink into you, curling it to brush that spot that drove you wild. He watches in awe as he slowly works it in and out of you. Taking note of the way your breathing changes when he moves his finger a certain way, or the way that your walls clench around his finger when he curls it. 

He pulls his finger from you, positioning himself between your legs looking up at you with an eager smile.

Feeling your face flush, you turn your head slightly, pulling your gaze from him slightly embarrassed to be watching him do such an intimate thing to you.

Eddie slaps your thighs, demanding that you look at him as he rises slightly from his position. Eyes darting towards him in surprise, as he gives you a look of challenge. 

“If im doing this,” he starts, his voice now low and gruff. He holds up two of his fingers, gesturing back and forth for your eyes to stay on him. You didn’t even realize it until it was too late, but a whimper escaped you at his blatant demand, the way he so casually told you that he wanted you to watch him devour you. He gives you that look of ‘do you understand’ and you are relieved when the subtle nod of your head is enough for him. He holds those fingers up close to his mouth, spreading them slightly before he sticks his tongue out between them with a wink. A crude gesture. 

He’s back down between your legs, slinging them over his broad shoulders, kissing, licking, nipping at your thighs as he makes his way up to your cunt, licking a strip from hole to clit, with the flick of his tongue. Your legs tense as the sensation, but quickly relax as he continues.

His tongue darts inside of you, watching your brows crease with a grin on his face. He never thought he would get to see you this way, even though he’d been thinking about it for years, but here you were, actually laid out in front of him, completely at his mercy and he loved it. 

One hand flying to tangle in his precious dark locks, the very ones that no one was allowed to touch, except you on a few rare occasions, one of those being now, whilst your other finds the blanket that you were currently situated on, gripping at it tightly when he switches to sucking harshly on your clit. 

Low groans leave Eddie every time to tug on his hair, urging him closer to your needy cunt. His hips rut against the pallet hoping to relieve some of the ache to no avail. He needed you, but not before he finished devouring you. 

    “Shit you taste good.” he hums.

With each greedy swipe of his tongue your legs begin to tremble, slowly starting to close around his head, your hips starting to rise to meet him. His right hand snaking around your waist to pull you back down and keep you there. 

His left hand dragging up your inner thigh, his ring clad fingers teasing your entrance before he slips a digit in, noting the way your mouth falls open and a moan seeps out, drawing in his attention. God, he hated that you took away the one thing he had been wanting to do for ages, especially when that very mouth was making such sinful sounds, even more so because he was causing them. There were plenty of things he wanted to do to your pretty little mouth, but right now the only thing he could focus on was kissing them, and it drove him crazy. 

    “Does that feel good?” he smiles, watching as your eyes fall shut. 

With a few pumps of his finger, he quickly adds another, curling them perfectly inside you. You kick your head back while letting out a loud moan at the added sensation. 

“Fuck, Eddie!”

He chuckles lightly, watching you squirm. “Didn’t I say eyes on me?” he goads, “Because I will stop.” 

Your eyes shoot open, darting down at his smug face. “There’s a good girl.” he coos, clearly satisfied with the way things were going. 

The mixture of his precious mouth sucking, and licking at your clit in a perfect pattern and the movements of his fingers, soon has your vision blurring and legs clenching around his head, as your orgasm hits you. You clamp your eyes shut, as you call out his name into the open air, reeling as your body jolts with each wave of pleasure that he was giving you. 

Eddie doesn’t stop, he watches eagerly as you writhe and come completely undone, his tongue still slowly toying with your cunt.

    “Eds,” you whine out, hoping that he would get the hint. 

With one final flick of his tongue he pulls away from you, a wolfish grin on his glistening lips. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sticking them in his mouth as he cleans them off, before pulling them back out with a pop. Watching you carefully as you catch your breath. Your eyes widen as you watch him, completely speechless at his actions, opening your mouth to say something only to be cut off by him. 

           “Did you really think I was going to pass on that opportunity?” He asks brows raised. 

Clamping your mouth shut you look away, heat filling your cheeks. 

            “Fuck.” 

Your eyes dart back to him, concern filling your features, and Eddie has to bite back the smile. 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

“Well I am now missing a ring, and I’m 98.7% sure that it’s stuck inside your cunt.” He states, an amused look on his face. Panic starts to set in as your hand darts down to the apex of your thighs. 

“Are you fucking serious, Edward?!” You pause, your face contorted, as you stare at him, taking in the shit eating grin growing on his glossed lips.

“No im fucking kidding,” he chuckles, holding up his hand and the so called missing ring, as he slides it back into place. “Could you imagine,” he adds, wiping his brow as if to say ‘disaster averted.’ You’re up on your knees in front of him instantly, about ready to hit him for his foolery. 

“That was not fucking funny!” You exclaim, to which Eddie rolls his eyes plainly. 

“Eh, that’s debatable, but it’s neither here nor there so let’s just move on, shall we.” 

God you hated him, thinking that such an action would be considered funny. As the panic starts to die down, you can still feel the sense of desire still weighing heavy on you. Finding some of your confidence, you lean closer to him, your hands resting on his belt as you unfasten it and look up at him. 

“Woah, you can't look at me like that,” he remarks, feeling his pants grow slightly tighter at the sight of you. 

“Like what?” You feign innocence.

“Like that, you’ve got the ‘please let me suck you off look,’ and it’s doing things to me.” 

You feel your pussy clench, the thought of him in your mouth was one that you weren’t opposed to in the slightest. 

    “And what If I wanted too?” you ask sheepishly, batting your lashes at him as you tug his pants down, leaving him in just his boxers. 

“Come on sweetheart, you’re killing me here,” he sighs, feeling his heart banging against his chest like it wanted to break free. You were in fact, slowly by slowly, killing him. Making him unbelievably hard with each and everything that you did, and he hated it, well as much as he could. You loop your fingers around the band of his boxers, waiting for the go ahead, before you proceed, pulling down his boxers to let his cock free.  

It scared you the way your body instantly reacted to him, to the sight of him alone. It was a lie to say that you weren’t eager to know just how good he would feel inside you, stretching you out perfectly, and all for him nonetheless, your legs feeling sticky hot.

Swallowing hard to take a minute to admire him, hard, perfectly curved, and leaking drops of precum down the shaft, that you couldn’t stop yourself from tasting. Your eyes meet his quickly before you take him into your awaiting palm, leaning forward to lick up the mess, your tongue swirling around the tip before taking him onto your mouth with a moan. 

    “Fuck baby,” he moans. It was a soft and earthy moan, delicate and yet gruff at the same time, music to your ears, and you hated to admit, but you could listen to it forever. Your tongue glides over the prominent vein as you licked at the entirety of him. He stares down at you in awe, like he had never seen anything prettier in his entire life, and truth be told, he would argue that he hadn’t. As you take him further into your mouth, gagging slightly, as he slowly thrust his hips forward with a deep groan. 

    “mmm, s-shit… s-sweetheart… s’fucking, fuck.” 

He could feel himself nearing the edge, especially when you started to use your hand to work the rest of him, or the way spit began to dribble down the sides of your face. He wasn’t going to last, and he was going to be damned if he was going to spend it in your mouth before he got the chance to feel your precious little cunt wrapped around him. 

With nothing but sheer willpower he eases you off of him, looking down at you with a pout on his face. He runs his thumbs across the sides of your mouth, wiping away the spit. 

    “You keep doing that and I am not going to last at all, and I fucking hate that because that felt so damn good, but we agreed that we were going to fuck, so,” he explains, raising his brow. 

    “Shame, I was having fun.” 

Eddie gives a breathy chuckle, as he pushes you to lie on your back, lowering himself with you the entire way. Kicking off his shoes and the rest of his clothes, it’s finally dawned on you that you were both now fully exposed, and there was no going back now.

    “So..” 

    “So…” you respond, finding it hard to meet his gaze. 

Eddie clears his throat, biting at the inside of his cheek. “Is this how you want to do it, position wise I mean, because I am not opposed, I just want to kno-”

    “No I like this, it's a good solid position you know.” you shrug, blush creeping to your cheeks. “Or I mean, I could…I could ride you if you want that too?” 

You felt utterly stupid even suggesting it, but the way his eyes light up has heat pooling in your belly. 

             “Yeah? Yeah that sounds good too.” 

Eddie felt like a damn child at Christmas with the way you wanted to ride him. God he was in heaven. He does his best to keep his cool, acting like it didn’t really matter to him in the slightest, but he wasn’t as good at it as he originally thought. His dark eyes were wide, longing almost, and his lips pressed into a thin line. 

             “Well then, let’s try that.” 

    “Alright then, let's do this, sweetheart,” he says with a click of his tongue. He looks down momentarily, his smile fading and his brows knitting together. 

    “Fuck, um I don’t have a condom..” 

You roll your eyes, “I have some condoms in my backpack,” you say, pointing to your bag leaning against the table. It caught you by surprise, the fact that he didn’t at least have one on him. Not that you thought about it a lot but you would have Eddie pegged as someone who would never leave the house without one. You would like to say you knew all about his sexual exploits, but it dawned on you that there could have been plenty of encounters that he had failed to mention, so the thought of him without the necessary ‘tools’ to fuck someone seemed strange. 

             “Why don’t you have one? I thought you were fucking girls all the time?” You ask, watching as Eddie pulls himself up from the ground and hurries over to your bag, pulling it open to search through the pockets. 

He looks back at you, amusement written on his face. 

             “Yeah, um that’s why I’m out, dummy.” Flipping through the bag he sighs, “Where the fuck are they?” 

    “Back zipper, behind my textbooks.” you call back, “Well, it might just be me, but you should probably replenish your stash.” 

He opens the zipper, letting his mouth fall open at the sight. 

“Why would I need to do that when you’ve got enough for both of us right here. There’s no fucking reason I should need to have any of my own, but that’s besides the point. What.the.fuck. Are you doing, that you need this many condoms..in your backpack?” he asks, holding up a handful, dropping a few. 

“What?! A girl has to be prepared,” you argue, “never know when I’m going to need them, you know, and thank god I had some.” You say, brow raised as if to emphasize a point. 

He shakes his head in disbelief, brows knitted together, and eyes narrowed on you. 

“You do realize you don’t need condoms to mind-fuck someone, right y/n?”

He throws them back in your bag, keeping a hold of one of them as he makes his way back over to you, falling to his knees as he slowly shakes his head. 

            “I mean thank god, Steve can’t get you pregnant now, you know with all the fucking you guys do…in your head…” 

    “Ha ha, very funny, Munson.” 

Biting at your lower lip as you impatiently watch him roll the condom on. 

            “I’m just saying, better safe than sorry,” he shrugs, giving a little pout of his lips. Rolling your eyes, you prop yourself up on your knees, pushing him down on his back. Swinging your leg over his midsection, you line yourself up, his cock nudging your still sensitive clit, and you hiss at the contact. 

             “Yeah well.. anyway, ready?” You weren’t entirely sure if you were but there was only one way to find out. Eddie’s greedy hands find your waist as he pulls you down, his tip just barely inside you. 

             “Yeah, you?”

You nod your head, letting yourself sink down onto his length, grabbing onto his arm as you focus on the way he is stretching you out, filling you up deliciously.

    “Damn, you’re tight.” he says through gritted teeth.  Your head falls back and your lips fall open, soft whines leaving your lips as you work your hips to better take him. 

            “No, y-you're just s-so big.” 

Eddie’s head falls back with a soft thump and you’re not sure if it was because of what you said or something entirely different. “Y/n..” it’s like a reverent lullaby the way he says your name. “You are killing me.” 

As he bottoms out inside of you, you both still, almost too scared to move, too afraid for it all to come to an end. Looking down at him, your best friend, hair a tangled mess around his head and face, pupils blown, neck perfectly on display adorned by that damned necklace, and his lips. Lips that had just spoken your name ever so sweetly. You knew that everything was going to have to change, maybe not for the worst and maybe not for the better, but definitely change. There was no going back now and nothing could change it. 

It was involuntary, the way you clench around his cock, watching as his eyes fall shut for a brief moment. You don’t know what was happening to you, the way your pulse quickened at the sound of his soft, beautiful moan, or the way that a strange sensation, one that you could almost, almost, describe as butterflies filled you. It meant nothing, because why would it? Why should it mean anything?

You hadn't even realized that he was staring back at you, watching intently on the way your chest was heaving, the way your breast moved with each rise and fall of your chest. Letting his eyes drift the length of your body, stealing a glance at where you were so perfectly connected, as he lets out a shuttered sigh of relief. 

He notices the part of your lips, pink and still slightly swollen, as you breathe softly. He had never wanted anything more than to kiss you, feel your tongue collide with his, it was nothing shy of torture. 

His eyes drift up to yours, the glazed over looks piques his interest, and he’s forced to wonder just what that pretty little mind of yours was thinking. He squeezes your thighs, pulling you from the haze, and your eyes meet him, locking as you feel the embarrassment fill you. 

             “We gonna do this?” He says softly. 

             “Yeah of course, I was just adjusting.” You chuckle, giving him a wink.  Before you have any more time to think about anything else you start to move, finding a suitable rhythm to have both of you moaning. His fingers press harder into the flesh of your hips as your ass comes down against his lap, as you keenly bounce on his cock. 

              “Fuuuuck,” he groans, “you’re taking me so well.” 

Why? Why did he have to say that? You whine, feeling that familiar heat building inside you once more. Eddie meets your thrusts with ones of his own, each one bringing pleasure and pain as he begins to hit every deep spot inside you, ones you had never managed to do yourself. 

              “S-shit Munson,” you cry out, your head lulling back on your shoulders, as he drives into you. Part of you just wanted to let go, let him fuck you senseless. To just lie back and enjoy it all, and strangely enough he sensed it. “Eddie, give me more, p-please.” 

Eddie groans knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer. “Anything for you, sweetheart.” With one fluid motion he had your back pressed firmly against the pallet, your hands falling above your head, and he can’t help but admire the way you look. 

Eddie grabs your ankles, slinging them over his shoulders providing him a whole new angle to fuck you. Deeper and harder. The stretch of him, stings, burns even causing your vision to start to blur. Fuck it was perfect, well almost. 

               “Better?” He finds it hard to speak, his pace quickening as he drills into you, relishing in the delicious pull you were giving him, your walls clinging to him like a vice. 

               “Oh f-fuck Eddie, yes..yes..” it had never felt so right to say his name in such a manner, and it scared part of you to your core. He watches in awe at the way your tits bounce with each thrust, and the way your arms tangle lazily around each other, your teeth coming out to sink into your bottom lip and your eyes fall closed. 

The poor boy had almost thought that he had finally died and had gone to heaven, but he knew it wasn’t, because if it was, he would have his tongue shoved so far down your throat at this point. Truth be told, he was going to be damned if he didn’t get to kiss you at least once at some point. 

“Fuck you look so goddamn pretty, so perfect” he didn’t want you to catch the last part but you did, you heard all of it. Eddie, nearing his climax, snakes his hand down to your clit, thumb massaging tight circles into it, ones that make your body squirm, ones that match the pace of his thrusts. You can feel your sweet release burning deep in your stomach, while your head begins to spin. The drawl of his cock, moving in a sweet yet simple pace, and the tempo that he was keeping with the pad of his thumb, was rendering you completely drunk. 

    “Mmmm fuck…..baby…” Eddie groans, lowering himself down to you, the familiar chain dangling in your face. His lips were so close to yours, his labored breaths fanning across your face, his eyes meeting yours. You hadn’t noticed it until then, and perhaps it hadn’t always been there, but in this exact moment, his eyes held a deep sense of adoration in them, like he was looking at something that meant the world to him. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and before you can process, his lips are pressed against yours. Shocked, your eyes widen, and your breath hitches. Nothing was working, your body had gone numb as you felt your release take over. Every part of your body sets a flame, as your back bows off the pallet and your eyes fall shut. 

Your cunt spasms around him as his own release gives, his hips stuttering with each thrust. Your name tumbling from his lips against yours. Somewhere deep inside of you surfaced, taking control as you reach up and grab the guitar pick that was dangling in front of you, and use it to close the gap between you and Eddie. Crashing your lips against his in a heated and messy kiss. The one simple rule, now a distant memory.  

Eddie’s hips halt as he stills inside you, bringing his arm around to rest under your back as he deepens the kiss. He didn’t care if the kiss was a result of your shared highs, and would most likely last only a second more before you both pulled away and would pretend that it didn’t happen. You on the other hand, had no idea what possessed you to kiss him back, especially like you did. At some point in the night you had lost all sense of logic and reason. You would argue that some ulterior force hijacked you, making you think that whatever this was, was the right choice. 

You pull away from him, still too stunned to say anything, and from the looks of it, so was he. Pupils blown, and a look of surprise on his face. The room is silent except for the sounds of the pair of you fighting to catch your breaths. Both of you are far too afraid to make any sudden movements, as you fight to meet each other’s gaze. It felt like a lifetime had passed by the time Eddie pulled out of you, discarding the spent condom, and plopping down beside you. 

Staring up at all the stage lights wondering who was going to speak first and cut the tension, and you felt relieved and nervous all at the same time when you heard Eddie’s mouth open. 

    “Well that was..” he says, clearing his throat. He fights the urge to look over at your still figure, as you do the same. 

    “Yeah…yeah it was..” you croak, your voice broken. 

The silence settles again, and you can’t help but wonder what was going on in the beautiful head of his, not that you knew even what was going on in your. Neither of you had ever been at more of a loss for words than you were right now. This was a first. 

    “So how’s Rebecca?” You ask, unsure of why you thought that this was the topic that most definitely needed to be brought up at this moment. 

Eddie bursts out into laughter as his hand flies up to wipe over his face.

    “Really!? Now? This is the conversation you want to have now of all times?” He chuckles, finally looking over at you to see that you were already looking at him with wide eyes. You giggle, feeling slightly embarrassed but relieved that the tension had been cute. 

    “Well believe it or not Eddie, I have never been in this position before, so I’m not really sure whats good in the state of post best friend fucking conversations?” you huff a laugh, rolling your eyes as he gives you a suggestive look. 

    “Well we both know you're lying when you say you’ve never been in that position before..” 

Grabbing the pillow beside you, you swing it at his head, laughing when you hear the muffled sounds of a grunt. 

    “Ha ha ha.” you say sarcastically. 

    “Rebecca is great by the way, thanks for asking.” He says with a wolfish grin, “I don’t really think it's going anywhere though but who knows. I mean we’re not really out of the ‘hey can I buy some weed off of you?’ ‘Sure thing’ ‘you’re so cool Eddie’ phase just yet, but things seem to be turning around, maybe sooner or later I’ll find some courage to actually talk to her, but I seriously doubt it.” he jokes, to which you roll your eyes.

    “Well if it means anything, I don’t like her, so.” you smile back. 

    “Oh, well then in that case, I am just going to have to forget about her it seems, you know since you don’t like her.” he deadpans, the sarcasm heavy in his tone. 

    “Good, I’m glad you get it.” You let your gaze linger on him a moment more, letting it drift down the length of his body, biting at the inside of your cheek.

    “Getting a good look?” he asks, watching as the blush creeps to your cheeks. 

    “Oh shut up.” you retort. 

You locate your clothes quickly, and slip into them, aware that his eyes are trained on you every step of the way. 

    “Getting a good look?” you mock, turning to see him blatantly staring. 

    “Yeah well it's not everyday you get to see your best friend naked, so I figured that I would commit it to memory, you know, just in case.” 

Eddie looks at you, the familiar glint of mischief behind his eyes. Grabbing his clothes you toss them at him, your hands falling to your hips. 

    “Mhm, just in case of what, Eddie?” 

Eddie drags on his clothes, standing up to tower over you, fixing his belt while he looks down at you, eyes narrowed with that mischievous glint. 

    “Just in case, you die but your face gets horribly disfigured and they come to me needing to ID you, but all that's left is your body, and then I can tell them ‘yep officer, that's her alright, I’d know those tits anywhere, they’re better than Anne Wilkinson’s.’” 

You shake your head, biting at your lower lip to hide the laugh that was begging to escape. 

           “So you see, I’m just looking out for you, baby.” He winks. He begins to pick up the blankets that you were just using, unable to stop yourself from admiring the expanse of his back currently covered by his denim vest, or the curve of his ass, as he bends over. Stop!  

Your stomach flutters, and you swallow hard, clearing your throat as you make your way back to the table, picking up your backpack, and plopping it down on the table, grabbing out a few spare condoms. Eddie makes his way over to you with a smile, as you hold out your hand for him. 

    “Here.” 

Eddie holds out his own hand, skepticism on his face, as he waits for you to reveal yours. 

    “What are you giving me?” 

You drop a handful of condoms into his awaiting palm, with a smile of your own.

    “Wouldn’t want you to be unprepared for any other sexual voyages you encounter now would we. It’s like what you always say, better safe than sorry.” 

You sling your bag over your shoulder, beaming at him as you make your way to the door, leaning against the frame. 

    “Now will you please take me home? I need to shower.” you quip, folding your arms over your chest. 

Eddie flashes you the cheesiest smile, sliding the condoms into his pocket. 

    “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

 thikkiesixx here you go doll!

[gemstone-roses]

Eddie hurt comfort, you say? Hmm... reader is touch starved & both shies away & leans into touches. Eddie is as patient as he can be and gives Y/N what they need, but one day, Y/N will NOT calm down. Pacing, muttering to themselves, really really anxious. Glancing at Eddie, tearful, then away again super quickly. Won't look at him because they'll break. So Eddie takes control, grabs their face in his hands and makes them look at him. He's soft, sweet, but also he won't take shit. You will let him help you.

Hold me

Thankyou for this omg!!!!

Warnings: anxiety, anxiety attack, touch starved reader

A:N- this, um wow this hit me fucking deep anyway enjoy!! who needs therapy when we have eddie munson 18+ only thanku. Please be kind🥺

"Y/n". He's using his firm voice, a voice reserved only for serious conversations, usually at 3am when things get a bit too existential and your thoughts stumble onto the not nice ones you bury.

But eddie always manages to pull you back. He thinks it's cute, when you ramble,he chews on his hair, a lazy grin splattered across his face while he listens to you, laying on his bed staring up at the nicotine stained ceiling, him next to you leaning against the window his bed is shoved up against, only interjecting when he can think of something funny to say.

He picks his moments.

His lips move but you here no sounds come out.

Your in his kitchen which is small but tonight it is tiny, it is tiny and you can't breathe. You look over to him and turn away each time he feels your gaze because you cannot, absolutley not look at him now because he will be eddie and you will shatter.

Your chest heaves up and down, fingers in your mouth as you chew on your nail

Eddie reaches out to you and you flinch, it's okay because he's used to it now, you shy away even though you know you need it.

Eddie waits a few moments before placing his arms on yours again, this time he grips you, not hard but hard enough to make sure you feel.

"Hey" he says firmly again, he's looking right at you and you look anywhere but.

Eddie reaches to cup your face, swiping his thumb at the curve of your eye.

"Please, you gotta breathe for me sweetheart"

You scrunch your eyes shut and Eddie will be dammed he is going to help you out of this, whether in this very moment you want him too or not.

Eddie reaches for the chain around his neck, balling it up into his fist.

"Here" he says, he grabs your hand so now your touching it and the metal is cold and warm and a bit sweaty but it makes you stop. And look at him

Just for a second, but thats all he needs.

Eddie reaches for your other hand and places it on his chest.

No other words are needed, he holds your hand against his chest, the other still clinging onto his chain, Eddie's face softens.

Eddie moves his free hand to the back of your neck

"Your okay" he says and you swallow.

"Your gonna be okay" he says more firmly, his voice breaking slightly at the end.

You squeeze the chain in your hand tighter before you lean in and place your forehead on his.

"Come on sweetheart, let me hear ya" he whispers, swiping at a tear running down your face

"I, I'm gonna be okay" your voice is barely a whisper, comes out all broken.

Eddie smiles at you and you breathe a sigh of relief and it doesn't go unnoticed

"Hey, don't, don't do that, it's okay yeah? I will always always help you no matter what so don't you dare start thinking otherwise okay"

"I wasn't thinking-

"I do not"! You whisper,

"I know how your mind works y/n, and recently it's been very unkind to you" eddie pauses "and you don't deserve that, so please remember that"

Eddie

"we're gonna get in bed and I'm gonna hold you until you fall asleep and drool on my shirt"

"Oh yeah, you do, it's adorable" Eddie's voice squeaks as he says it and you can't help the small smile appear on your face

"There we go, there you are" eddie says sincerely, that signature grin across his face again, before grabbing your hand leading you to his bedroom.

Ever the gentleman eddie signals for you to get in first.

Climbing into his bed, he opens his arms for you and you curl into him.

Your still a bit shaky, and Eddie holds you tighter, reminding you he's there and you'll be okay.

And maybe not tonight, and maybe not tomorrow, but eventually, with eddie, you will be.

[stardancerluv]

Eddie Munson - Master List

Wow! I had no idea this was going to happen! Thank you for all the love on my Eddie story!

Blossoming of a Shy Violet

- Reader…the new girl at Hawkins meets Eddie Munson…and her life will never be the same.

Story contains…fluff…angst..smut…possible violence…so please 18+ and the reader is fem!

If you would like to be tagged…please let me know!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

Part Eighteen

Part Nineteen

Part Twenty

Part Twenty - One

Part Twenty - Two

Part Twenty - Three

Part Twenty - Four

Part Twenty - Five

Part Twenty - Six

Christmas with Eddie and the Gang

[portaltothevoid]

For Whom the Bell Tolls - Chapter 35 - Spellbound

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OFC (Kat Ramsay), sequel to Foolin’

Summary: Kat returns to Hawkins after the battle.

Warnings: This is it. It’s the end of Kat’s story…. For now. 

Word count: 3.3k

Chapter song: Spellbound by Siouxsie and the Banshees

Tag list: @munchabunch​ @madaboutmunson​ @earl-greater​

The medics were working on Eddie before the helicopter was even in the air. They took his vitals and changed his bandages, applying more pressure to stop whatever ones were still bleeding. Frantically, they were writing notes on various clipboards. 

An adrenaline crash hit Kat like a ton of bricks. She could feel herself spacing out as she tried to stay attentive to Eddie. The whole ride took no more than 15 minutes. They landed atop this building in the middle of the woods. It felt eerily similar to Hawkins Lab. 

Eddie was wheeled off in the stretcher. The woman had held Kat back, not letting her follow. She didn’t even fight it. There was really nothing anyone could do to keep her from him anyway, but she knew the doctors needed space to assess him and make him comfortable. Soon enough, she would see him.

Kat was led a few floors down to a fancy boardroom. There she saw her Uncle Hank who shot up to greet her along with a couple of his colleagues. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said as he hugged her. 

“Yeah, me too, honestly,” she said quietly, returning his hug. “They’ll tell me as soon as Eddie is stable, right?”

“Yes, yes, of course. He will be very well taken care of here,” Hank assured her as he pulled out a chair for her to sit.

“Where is ‘here’ exactly?”

“Knight Ridge Technical, a government research facility, about ten miles east of Bloomington.”

“Right…” she said tapping on the table. “It’s not the kind of research that brainwashes kids and experiments on them against their will, right?” With Kat’s blunt question it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. 

“No, no. Nothing of that sort. That was Brenner’s thing. Here at Knight Ridge we focus more on understanding physics and electromagnetic fields, things of that nature.”

“Yeah, sure. So are we here to talk terms or…?” she trailed off.

“Terms?” The woman asked.

“Uh, yeah. Eddie and I are prime suspects in murders that One did, and ya know, opened up a massive gate between our world and the Upside Down. So I want our names cleared. Specifically his name cleared.”

“That… that will come in time. I’m seeing to it you both are going to be very well taken care of. Right now we are just trying to understand exactly how that happened.”

Kat let out a big sigh. “So my friend Max was one of his victims. Basically me and El, Eleven, piggybacked from Max’s mind into Vecna… One’s mind. We call him Vecna. Sometimes One. Sometimes Henry? Anyway. He wanted us to watch him kill Max as his fourth and final victim to, in his demented mind, ‘save the world’ more or less, but wherever El was, her boyfriend gave her this peptalk. Which I could hear too. He was telling her to fight. I thought of Eddie. And I fought like hell to get back to him. Because the all-seeing asshole showed me a live feed of the demobats attacking him. El basically finished One off while I went back to my body and then, um, sort of became a human EKG machine. Um, so yeah, we sort of stalled him for the time being, but I mean, every place One killed someone turned into a gate. When Max… died…” Kat took a second to clear her throat. The weight and reality of that statement hadn’t even registered in her mind yet. “That’s what caused the giant earthquake. I saw it from the air. Every gate connected and formed a line to the center of Hawkins. I don’t know what it means, but… He said he would be there when the rest of the world burns and falls and he’d be there to pick up the pieces, to turn the world into something beautiful. Clearly we have very different standards of beauty. If only you guys got a look at him. He doesn’t need to bag just his face, but his whole body…” Kat shuddered at the thought and then looked at everyone in front of her. They all stared back at her blankly, mouths slightly agape. 

Hank cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. “We’ve lost contact with Eleven after the disaster at NINA, but you said she was there?”

“Yeah, she’s on her way back to Hawkins.”

“You’re the reason that boy is alive?” someone else asked.

“Um, yeah. I– I– I panicked. I couldn’t… I can’t lose him,” she whispered as she looked at her hands on the table.

“You never cease to amaze me, ya know that, kiddo?” Hank said with a beaming smile. “So here’s what happens now. We’re going to set you up in an overnight suite here. You used an immense amount of power. To be quite honest, I don’t even know how you’re still standing right now.”

“Well, I’m sitting, but yeah, me neither.”

“You rest up and hopefully by the time you’re ready, you’ll be able to see Eddie. Sound good?”

“Yeah, sure, but Uncle Hank? I mean it. When we get back to Hawkins I want his name cleared,” she spoke sternly.

“Who said anything about going back to Hawkins? Kat, honey, you can’t go back there. The town is like a war zone.”

“Exactly. It is a war zone. And I have to be on the front lines. This fight isn’t over. It’s only just beginning.”

Hank started to stutter when the woman spoke up. “The girl and her family will be staying in their secluded cabin. Surely there’s another one nearby we could set up for them. Temporarily they can stay there until we finalize everything.”

“I like this lady,” Kat nodded with a smile as she got up from her seat. Everyone else followed suit. “Don’t know who you are, but I like you.”

“Agent Stinson,” she said as she stuck out her hand for a handshake. “I’ll show you to your room.”

~~~~~

The next day Kat was waiting outside Eddie’s room, ringing her hands anxiously. She had been called here just moments ago, but when she finally got to the room, he was still asleep. One of the doctors finally came by and updated her on everything.

“He’s very lucky to be alive, you know. We honestly don’t know how he survived. Those wounds were deep and he lost a lot of blood. He has quite the road to recovery, but luckily you got him here in time. Truly, his case is baffling. Were you aware he was clinically dead for about a minute?”

“I… um, yeah. I just, um… I went by the book to save him, I guess,” she muttered. She’d never heard or seen this person before in her life. How could she know if she could trust him? Sometimes she felt guilty for how much of the battle she relayed to her Uncle, but it just kept pouring out of her.

“Is that so?” The doctor chuckled. “We’re all on your side here. You can trust us.”

“That’s what they all say,” Kat said with a weak smile.

“I get it, I get it. From what you’ve been through… It’s wise not to automatically trust everyone you meet. Anyway, his vitals are stable. We gave him fluids when he first got here. He was able to eat this morning. His upper body suffered the most damage, so you guys should be on your way tomorrow.”

“Does everyone know what I can do here? Jesus. Wait, on our way tomorrow? Are you serious?”

“You and Eleven are like our local celebrities here. We’re all in your corner. And absolutely. This is the most miraculous case I’ve ever seen. I mean, the improvement from yesterday to today is astonishing. I’ll send you home with a folder full of his care regimen. You’ll have agents and doctors close by, should any issues arise.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“Alright, I’ll let you see him. It’s best if he wakes up on his own, but there's a chair in there for you and the TVs still on, so help yourself. If you need anything, just buzz for one of the nurses.”

Kat nodded and had her hand on the door knob, but hesitated before she went in. “Wait, just tell me before I go in there… Did you have to cut his hair?”

“No,” the doctor chuckled. “His hair is still intact.”

“Thank god. I didn’t wanna be the one to tell him. He would’ve been pissed,” Kat laughed as she entered the room.

He was lying there peacefully. Bandages covered much of his body. But the color had returned to his face. His hair was fanned out around him. She was well aware the doctor said not to disturb him, so sat in the chair and sort of… followed his directions.

At this point, she had a handle on her powers so much that she could just enter the void simply by closing her eyes and focusing on it. The TV became background noise. The light didn’t bother her. It was just like falling asleep with the lights on, in a roundabout way.  

As soon as she padded across the shallow water of the void, something felt… off. Usually, she felt completely neutral here until she entered someone’s mind. This time it was different. Cautiously, she walked up to his hospital bed and went to reach for his hand. Before she made contact, his eyes flung open. He grabbed her arm with a tight grip and pulled her down closer to his level. His eyes bore right into hers, streaks of red brightened his dark brown irises. “No,” he said forcefully.

Immediately she opened her eyes, her chest heaving from whatever she just witnessed. She looked over at Eddie who was still peacefully sleeping. This was something that had never happened before. It was as if something else was there. Something else that didn’t want her seeing into Eddie’s mind. 

He began to stir and slowly started to wake up. His eyes fluttered open and when he glanced to the right, he softly smiled. “Hey,” he whispered groggily.

Kat flew out of the chair and to his side. She gripped his hand tightly like if she let go he would disappear forever. “Hey, hi!” she murmured gently. “Are you in pain? Do you need anything?”

“Just you to be here with me.”

She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I’m here.”

“Wait, they didn’t cut my hair did they?”

“No,” Kat laughed at how well she knew him. “You didn’t need brain surgery. Which is surprising considering how dumb you are!”

“Ah, here we go,” he chuckled. 

“I can’t believe you! After everything I told you! Sometimes running is okay, you know! Jesus. You scared the shit outta me. I almost fucking lost you. For good. For forever! Oh my god, and Dustin! Dustin had to see the whole thing. Poor Dustin.”

“You good? Got that outta your system?”

“I– Yeah. Just… don’t fucking die again, okay?”

“Not planning on it, but hey anything can–” he started to tease, but cut himself off when Kat shot daggers at him with the look on her face. “Yeah, no, definitely not planning on it. Um, how did I, uh, get here?”

“I called my Uncle and he got you airlifted here. It’s like Hawkins Lab 2.0. Supposedly minus the brainwashing and child experiments, but jury’s still out on that.”

“You what? You called the government? So, what the hell happens when we get outta here? Am I…” Eddie spoke so fast his words almost blended together.

Kat shook her head. “No. They’re gonna take care of it. We might have to stay with El in some cabin for a bit until they get us our place, but we’re going back to Hawkins after this. And my Uncle assured me we’d be well taken care of. Both of us. Eddie, this was the safest route. The doctors over at NINA that were working with El are also working with everyone here. We’re safe.”

“Great, so we’ll basically be under witness protection or some shit?”

“Why is this bothering you so much?”

“I just want my life back,” Eddie muttered.

“In time, babe, in time. Maybe. Who knows. Vecna still might destroy the world and we did all of this for nothing,” she shrugged. 

“Can’t we, like, run away to California or something? Stay at one of your parent’s houses or some shit?”

Kat shook her head solemnly. “I need to be in Hawkins. This isn’t over.”

“Yeah,” he snorted. “It’s not. Hey, does Wayne know I’m…alive?”

“I have no idea. I’m not even sure if it’s safe for him to know. We can ask?”

Eddie just nodded and stared at whatever was on the TV. Kat furrowed her brow, debating if she wanted to ask this question now, but why wait when it would just gnaw at her? “Hey, Eddie, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Do you remember anything from… um, anything about–”

“Dying? No,” he answered curtly. “And I don’t wanna talk about it.”

His tone took her off guard. He never spoke to her like that. And that’s how she knew he was lying. Her theory was proving to be correct. Something was definitely off. A knock on the door interrupted, or rather saved, Kat from coming up with a response.

The doctor gave them both a run down of his status and confirmed his release for the next day, after testing out his mobility. He struggled, but was mobile. They were just mere hours away from an actual peaceful rest. Hopefully.

~~~~~

Another helicopter landed atop the Knight Ridge building while Eddie and Kat were waiting for their ride back to Hawkins. Eddie had returned to his normal self. Or at least, he didn’t act weird like he did the day before. The couple leaned against an expensive looking black car with the darkest tinted windows. Eventually, Agent Stinson finally emerged from the building with another man and woman in tow. 

“Chief Hopper?” Eddie asked.

“Munson?”

“You two know each other? Oh, what am I saying? It’s Hawkins, of course they know each other,” Kat mumbled to herself. 

“Hi, I’m Joyce Byers,” a woman with auburn hair and the kindest, sweetest smile Kat had ever seen held out her hand.

“Hi, I’m Kat Ramsay, nice to meet you. Byers? You must be Will’s mom?”

“Yes! You know Will?”

“We know of him. Eddie is, well, was the DM for the D&D club at the high school. Dustin and Mike would always talk about him and El. You both seem like wonderful people, I’m so happy she found you guys after getting away from that prison of a lab,” Kat rolled her eyes at the thought of it. 

“You know El?” Hopper asked. He had a shaved head and the start of a beard. He looked like he was practically skin and bones under his baggy clothes. 

“Very well. I was, uh, number Ten at the lab.”

“Come on, we can catch everybody up to speed on the way there,” Stinson said, urging everyone to get in the car.

When they finally got to the secluded cabin, Kat had heard all about the Russians involvement with the Upside Down and how Joyce went all the way there to save Hopper. They also told her about how they destroyed particles from the Mind Flayer and demogorgons at Kamchatka prison to help give them an upper hand. From there, Kat filled them in on everything that had happened the past week.

As they reached their destination, Stinson sighed. “I thought you said this place was livable?”

“Well it was, but I’ve sort of been in a Russian prison. Haven’t been able to keep up the place.”

“We’ll send a crew out. I’ll give you all some time. I’ll be back later to take you all someplace in the meantime.”

Everyone left a chorus of ‘thank you’s to her as they got out of the car. Mike and what Kat assumed to be Will, ran to Joyce, followed by another boy that was with Nancy. She presumed that to be Jonathan, her boyfriend… for now at least. Kat would do her best to keep her comment to herself. She noticed another boy with very long, dark hair holding up a mushroom, like he’d found gold. Nancy ran up to Kat and gave her a hug.

“Oh my god, Nancy, you’re alive!” Kat exclaimed. “Did Robin and Steve make it out too? How’s Dustin? What about Max and Lucas and Erica?” 

“Yeah, our group made it out alive. Lucas beat the shit out of Jason, you would have been so impressed. He also didn’t make it through the earthquake…”

“Good riddance to him. Sorry, too soon?”

Nancy just shook her head and chuckled. “Erica is okay. Lucas has been at the hospital with Max–”

“Max is alive?!”

“Barely, she’s in a coma. The doctors aren’t even sure how she’s still alive.” 

Kat looked over at Eddie and then saw El emerge from the cabin with Hopper. “I think I do,” she whispered before she ran over to El and wrapped her in a huge hug. “Oh my god, El, are you okay? How are you?”

“I am great,” she said as she beamed at Hopper. “I am happy you’re here, Kat.”

Kat was formally introduced to everyone. When Eddie met Will for the first time, they stared at each other. It was only for a few seconds. No one else but Kat noticed. She was the only one watching him like a hawk for anything out of the ordinary. The exchange made her stomach flip. 

As everyone was mingling, a sudden chill went down Kat’s spin. At the same time, she saw Will reach for the back of his neck. Him and Eddie exchanged quick nods, before Will turned around to look up at the sky. Dark, ominous clouds were rolling in. Thunder rumbled and particles began to fall from the sky, exactly like ones that floated around the Upside Down. Will had grown visibly anxious, his breaths becoming short and shallow. Eddie stared up at the sky, biting his lip and tapping his fingers on the side of his leg. Telltale signs whatever was happening made him anxious too. From what Kat understood, besides herself and El, Will also had a connection to the Upside Down and to Vecna. 

Together, they walked through the woods to a nearby field that cascaded down the hillside. The bottom half of it, closest to town, was rotten and decaying. Everything was covered with fuzzy film, like mold almost that puffed and spread with it was touched. Everyone stopped in their tracks, overwhelmed with the view in front of them. 

El kept going to where the vegetation had died. She picked up a dead flower and examined it. Kat walked with her and knew she had seen this somewhere before. She bent down to examine it all more closely.

“This looks like how the pumpkin patch did…” she noted, looking up at El who looked at her with a forlorn expression and solemnly nodded. 

Everyone looked out over Hawkins. Plumes and pillars of smoke reached up to the clouds. The biggest one was in the center of town, where all four gates met. The same red lighting that they all saw in the Upside Down was right in front of them. Anger and determination took over El’s features. Kat stood up and looked back at Eddie. He wouldn’t take his eyes off the tornado-like columns of smoke. As she followed his gaze, fury started to rumble inside of her. 

Vecna wasn’t going to take Eddie away from her. Not again. The battle might be over, but the war had only just begun.

previous chapter | the end

A/N: If you’ve made it this far, you have my undying gratitude. If you’ve liked, commented, or rebloogged, even if you’ve only read one chapter, thank you. I appreciate anyone who’s taken time out of their day to read any parts of my writing. If you’ve been here since the beginning of Foolin’, I just cannot thank you enough. I wanted to give Eddie the ending he deserved and ending up creating a bad ass OC in the process. I’m still amazed I was able to see their story through to completion. Kat and Eddie will always have a place in my heart and I hope they will in yours too. Til next time!

[wroteclassicaly]

When you smell good after your shower, body lotion lathered on, and Eddie just leans over and bites you.

“What? Smells good. Should put a warning on the label though. Causes boyfriends to turn into wild animals.”

[judith-priest]

Here's a quick, low quality doodle of Judith and Eddie.

I might redo it, but for now, I'm pleased.

[djokeery]

i guess there's nothing more romantic than dying with your friends

"I don't know how else to say this, so I'm just going to say it, and I don't want to make today even worse, but I have this terrible feeling it might not work out for us this time,"

He swivels his head immediately.

"Rob, no, noth—"

She cuts him off.

"And I know—I know I should be more positive, I know. But if this is it, Steve..."

word count: 2.3k tags: robin and steve being the only people ever, best friends, my whole entire heart, "till forever falls apart" by ashe & finneas, cicadas, i love you, the end of the world, a slight pushing of the stancy agenda from robin and steve pulling his angsty weight

(this was originally posted on AO3 and it was written before vol 2 came out—it's very special to me; i hope it's special to you, too.)

In the midst of the chaos, somehow, they've found a minute alone, a minute just to themselves, the two of them, Robin and Steve, and it's so quiet that the cicadas take center stage alongside the oceanic sounds of gasoline sloshing inside half-empty jugs, creating their own fire while simutaneously breaking through the silence.

Steve's kind of wishing he could cut the air with his axe, smother the tension so reality doesn't feel so deafening, but he'll take the random background noise over being left alone with his own thoughts any day, especially when all he's hearing inside his brain is I can't let any of them die no one is getting left behind we're going to be okay this is the end I'm really fucking scared I never said I love you should I have written letters shut up we're okay this is okay we've got this alright except what if we don't what if we di—

The cicadas pause for a moment, and Robin takes the opportunity to unknowingly mute Steve's internal spiral by starting to speak.

"I don't know how else to say this, so I'm just going to say it, and I don't want to make today even worse, but I have this terrible feeling it might not work out for us this time,"

He swivels his head immediately.

"Rob, no, noth--"

She cuts him off.

"And I know—I know I should be more positive, I know. But if this is it, Steve..."

The tension is back, and it's real, and it's heavy.

It drapes over them like a blanket, covering the scene and erasing everyone that isn't them, everything that isn't this moment right here, right now.

"I need you to know that I love you."

If the world wasn't stopped already, it is now. The last three words catch him completely off guard, freeze him in his tracks, and make him feel like holding her tight against his chest while simultaneously running away to the furthest corners of the earth.

The mere idea of Robin Buckley loving him, Steve "The King" and "The Hair" Harrington, is almost too much to bear.

It's a weight he doesn't deserve to carry.

He can tell she's not looking for a response, but he wants to give her one. He wants that more than anything. He just doesn't know if he should.

Because she's right.

This is the fight of their lives, for their lives, and he loves her too. He kind of always has, and he definitely always will. He couldn't stop loving her even if he wanted to. (He doesn't.) It's just not in his blood.

There's just one question he still has, though.

"But what about Vickie?"

Robin lets a small snort out, and Steve's sad to see it go. It's a beautiful sound, one he's tried to memorize a million different times over the past year of knowing her. (It amazes Robin how much he tries, and how much he cares, even when he doesn't, when he can't realize it.)

"Steve, you absolute dingus, no, not like that, god, no, I still very much like girls, I just—I love you, and I cannot stand the idea of dying without you knowing what you mean to me."

"Hey, just listen to me for a seco—"

If this were anyone else, Steve would be pissed he's being cut off so many times. But this is Robin, and when she starts rambling, she can't stop, and her words right now are spilling out so quickly that she's hardly breathing between the sentences. There's a waterfall of desperation in her tone, she's not looking anywhere but directly at him, and so he lets it go. He listens and she lets it pour.

"All I've ever wanted my whole entire life is to have something that matters, to be a part of something real, and that's you. It's us. The friendship we have is something I knew I'd never find, because I'm a loser and annoying and I can't even say hi to the girl I like without throwing up and I'm a mess, a total complete mess, and that—that's not even what I'm trying to say here."

She releases a strangled groan while she drags her hands down her face, taking in a deep breath before she uses it all up for another monologue, and Steve's still there, by her side, as constant as ever, soaking every single word up like they're the very last ones he might be lucky enough to hear.

"Remember, at Starcourt, when you told me everything people tell you you should be is bullshit?"

He nods.

"Well, this isn't bullshit. You're the best person I know and you deserve to be happy. I know how alone you've been, I know what it sounds like when you wake up from a nightmare, screaming, and I know you still feel something towards Nancy, even if you refuse to believe it yourself. So please, promise me you'll say something, before it's too late. Because you're my best friend and I'd give you the world if I could, but we apparently have to save it again first, and I love you. You're the only person who likes me for me, all of me, and—thank you for that. For everything, actually."

Steve doesn't know when the cicadas began chirping at full volume again, but Robin's not looking at him anymore, and she's wringing her fingers together as if her hands were a sponge and she could force them to be dry at will, as if she could take back the multitude of things she just confessed.

He doesn't even care that she only said them because she's convinced they're going to die. (They're not. They can't. They won't. He refuses.)

Quietly, under his breath, so soft it nearly gets lost amongst everything else, he asks. But it isn't really a question, just more of a confirmation.

"I'm your best friend, huh? Me?"

"That's what you got from all of that?"

"Well, am I?"

She's looking at him like he might have rabies again—and who knows? Maybe he does—but he needs to know.

He really needs to know.

"...yeah, Steve. You're my best friend."

They share the tiniest of smiles, and it cracks them open.

"You're my best friend too, you know. And I love you back, platonically, of course," and then, with the addition of a small finger gun, he continues, "Capital P."

Robin's smile widen's ever so slightly.

"Is that so?"

For some reason, the teasing remark takes him back to swimming pools and late November nights and is that supposed to impress me? and you're not? and every ghost that's ever left him haunted. (At this point, he has too many to count.)

Steve thought he understood the concept of deja vu, thought he knew what it was like to relive exact moments of his life over and over again, thought the film reel of memories in his mind had reached its limits of repeating plot lines, but here was again, being proven wrong as always.

(Somewhere, another echo: and another one bites the dust. You are oh for six, Popeye."

"I'm sorry I dragged you into all of this."

He knows he made a mistake the second Robin's face falls, the brief bubble of joy they'd somehow managed to enter together popping almost instantly.

"Steve—"

"No, you got to have your speech, and now it's my turn, okay?"

He can tell it's a struggle for her not to fight him on this, to let him have the open floor, but she allows it. Her whole body moves to an idling stop, and, in the physical pause, Steve continues.

"The only reason you know monsters are real is because of me, and if I could go back in time and change that, I would. I don't regret you, I never could, but I regret ruining your life. You should be anywhere but here, and I'm sorry. I have a tendancy to screw up everything around me, and you don't deserve this."

Robin doesn't know exactly when it started, but Steve's eyes are starting to water. Just a tiny amount, right around the edges. She's captivated by it for a second, the slight twinkle, and then it hits her like a freight train.

Throughout everything, in all the time she's known him, really known him, she's never seen him cry. Not once.

"I hope you tell Vickie how you feel and I hope you get everything you've ever wanted. You're so smart, you're a goddamn genius, Robin, the smartest person I've ever met, actually, so you better tour the world and go to Europe and try that one pasta I can't ever pronounce—"

"Tajarin al tartufo,"

"Yeah, submarine el tofu, with the egg yolks and truffle, whatever the fuck that is." He scratches the back of his head, and there's dried blood embedded in his fingernails when he pulls his hand back. He tries really hard to ignore the fact that he doesn't know who—or what—it came from. "You're too hard on yourself, and I—I'm a better person just because I know you. I'm so lucky I know you."

"Jesus, Steve."

"What? I'm not allowed to be nice to you?"

"No, it's just..."

When she speaks again, a few moments later, it comes out a little sour, a little bitter, and her voice is scratchy. "You're actually an idiot, you know that?" (He does. He really, genuinely, truly does.)

"Tell me something I don't know, Buckley."

"Okay." She was never one to back down from a challenge. "You clearly think you're some kind of terrible person who makes my decisions for me, since you think me being here is somehow your fault, which it isn't, let me make that clear, plus, you're avoiding the fact that you're still in love with Nancy and that you maybe never even stopped loving her in the first place."

He scoffs. "I don't still have a thing for Nance, Robin. I told you last summer, in the bathroom, at Starc—"

"—at Starcourt, yeah, I was there. But I've seen the way you look at her, and more importantly, I've seen the way she looks at you."

When he stays silent, brown eyes transfixed on the gravel at their feet, Robin keeps going. "I don't think it's over, Steve."

"Robin..."

He doesn't know how to tell her it'd never work, that it's hopeless, that he's hopeless. He doesn't know how to explain that the reason why he and Nancy broke up in the first place was basically because he was a selfish asshole, and that he hasn't really changed that much since.

Two years isn't as much time as it feels, and yeah, they're both different people now, older and a bit wiser, mostly on her part, but at his core, Steve Harrington is still the problem. (He thinks he always will be.)

He's still someone who's desperately, painfully sorry, who's constantly trying to make up for things he'll never be able to forgive--being a stupid teenager, disregarding Barb's death, talking shit about the entire Byers family, Jonathan, pretty much everything that he did and said while King Steve was still "ruling" the world, the list goes on forever. It keeps him up at night, leaks into his nightmares, coats his daylight decisions in too many shades of apologetic regret, and it's never enough. He's never enough.

Robin's voice shakes him back into reality, gently, and, somehow, she's still pressing the same subject.

"Give it a shot, Harrington. You don't have anything to lose." (That was kind of a lie. He has everything to lose, actually.)

Steve immediately objects. "I would, but Jonath—"

"Try anyway. Believe me."

And, for some unknown reason, deep in his guts, underneath the bites from the demobats, he does.

He thinks that he kind of has to.

(This is the end, after all.)

Together, they sit in silence for another minute or two, taking in each other's presence for as long as they can, while they still can.

Neither one of them really knows what to say at this point; they've laid it all out on the table in a way, shared their letters out loud instead of writing them down, made their beds, and it is what it is. (It's love, and it's radiating from their cores like the sun.)

The cicadas are serenading them now, sinnging a song that feels like an ode to trying, to giving, to being, to living, to loving, and Robin wonders if Steve is hearing it the same way she is, all of the melodic chirped notes spinning around them.

She wonders, and so she asks.

"Hey, Steve."

He looks up from the ground, meets her tired face, specifically chooses not to comment on the tear sliding out of the corner of her left eye. (Robin doesn't even realize she's crying, wouldn't even be able to tell you when or where she started.)

"You OD over there?"

And he laughs.

He laughs like he's never been lonely, he laughs like there's hope in their story, he laughs from a place he'd forgotten even existed—somewhere warm, bright, golden, alive, and Robin laughs right along with him.

Their voices join the chorus of cicadas, becoming a grand orchestra, together, with ease, effortlessly, and it's beautiful.

They might be dead in a few hours, or twenty minutes (what's the difference, really?) but they have this right now. They have each other, and their laughter, and their love, and they're holding on, tightly, whatever happens.

***

When it's finally time to go, before she turns around to head back into the RV, before it's time to face whatever Vecna chooses to throw at them next, Robin says it again, gasoline in hand, with the most direct eye contact of her life, just to drive it home. (She needs to make sure he knows.)

I love you.

Steve smiles, a real one, and he says it back.

[hellfirecvnt]

Eddie Munson Smut Blurb- NSFW

Eddie giving you a ride home from practice or some shit. He's preoccupied and keeps glancing over at you, so you finally ask what gives. He tells you it's nothing, just a lot on his mind. You continue to pry and he finally shuts you up by whipping the van abruptly, pulling over, and yanking you into the back with him where he eats you out until you can't form words anymore.

Then, he doesn't say anything else. He just smirks as he drives to his house instead, finishing what he started while his uncle's not home.

[indianastarcourt221]

Scars, Guilt, and Love (Fanfic)

The motel wasn’t anything special. There was a TV, a rickety bedside table, and two beds covered in tan comforters with light fixtures overhead. He was just grateful for a comfortable, semi-clean place to lay his head for a while. Hop landed on the bed closest to the while Joyce sat on the other, their gazes uncertain.

His mind mulled over the events of the past few days. The first time he spotted Joyce, he swore he was hallucinating. Seeing ghosts. He’d gone completely crazy, and now his mind was playing tricks on him. But then she was able to run to him, touch him, hug him. He couldn’t help himself: he wore the biggest grin on his face like a lovesick puppy. He didn’t care. This was all he’d dreamed about. Not breadsticks and lasagna: Joyce. Her warmth. Hop had dreamed about her for days. She’d obviously missed him. Finally, they were together.

Of course, Murray had to interrupt with almost smug urgency. Demogorgans. Russians. They were still in danger as long as they stayed.

After the first escape, Hop had found them cleaner clothes to change into. He remembered glancing over and catching the white of Joyce’s underwear. He turned away, revealing a cascade of scars down his back, some not fully healed.

The gash on his arm pulsed angrily against its bindings, pulling Hopper from his thoughts. He was perpetually cold. He wanted to wait until Joyce went to the bathroom so he could wrap himself under both comforters, but his heart started to pound at the thought of her leaving his sight.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go first?”

He shook his head. “You go ahead,” he replied tiredly.

She didn’t argue. Hop watched Joyce gather another stack of clean clothes before she turned back towards the bathroom. “Joyce?”

“Yeah Hop?” her wide eyes gave way to momentary discomfort on his part. Her voice was little more than a weary whisper.

“I don’t think I can stand to be alone right now.”

Her gaze softened. You can sit in if you want. Gives us a chance to talk things over, if you’re feeling up to it.”

Hopper let out a sign of relief that he didn’t realize he was holding in. His heart hammered at the thought of losing her again, and he had to convince himself that just because he couldn’t see her and feel her didn’t mean she wasn’t there.

The steam of the shower blinded Hop. His frame spilled out over the toilet even as he leaned back against it, ignoring the feel of the knob jamming into his back. The heat comforted him and lulled him into a doze. After mere moments, he allowed himself some shut-eye. He was surprised that Joyce didn’t jump in to break the silence, but then, she was probably as tired as he was.

Had there ever been a moment when she really believed he was dead? What was it like for her, having El and Will under the same roof? He imagined that the two got along just fine, but worry flooded his mind constantly. Were they still in Hawkins, or did Joyce move like she said she would? Was El adjusting to life without him?

He could picture it perfectly in his mind’s eye: Joyce telling El that her father had died saving Hawkins. He could see the grief in his daughter’s eyes, the pain at knowing that she’d lost another important person in her life. Her Dad. He took a deep breath again, steadying himself. Surely El was alright. She had to be. He scrubbed a hand over his bald head, and it reminded him of the way she looked when she first came to live with him-- he had told her that she could grow out her hair as long as she wanted, and she had been so happy. She said she wanted to be pretty, but to Hop, she already was.

A fragile melody broke through his thoughts, whisking his troubles away:

I’ve got your memory,

Or…has it got me?

I really don’t know,

But I know, it won’t let me be.

She was slightly off-key and her voice carried that jagged raspiness that was synonymous with her. He had to fight off a chuckle, worried that it would spook her from this strangely calming performance.

“Joyce?”

“Hm?”

“I need to tell you-- I need to tell you, before I regret it all over again…I love you.”

The shower’s spray permeated the silent air. He hadn’t wanted or even expected a response. He just needed her to know. But then, as he readjusted himself on the uncomfortable toilet, a single hand pushed back the curtain just enough for Joyce’s head to pop out. For a moment, he was afraid he’d just messed up in saying what he felt.

Her hair was slightly dampened, and he did a double take when he saw that her cheeks were wet. Had to be from the shower, right? Only after she sniffled did he realize he was wrong. “Hop?” her voice cracked. Her eyes searched his face for expression, as if she couldn’t believe how easily the words had escaped his mouth.

He stood and held his face in her hands for a split second before he kissed her. A hand tangled itself into the cheap blue shower curtain and yet the two were hardly disturbed as the rings popped off the metal beam, clanging as the whole thing fell into the bathtub. She pulled away long enough for him to really see her naked. At first her smile faltered and she bit her lip. His lips landed on hers again, this time so hard that her knees buckled underneath her. Hopper noticed her instability and scooped her up easily, eliciting a giggle from the woman in his arms.

His mind went back to the baseball field. Joey had hit a ball in Joyce’s direction. It struck her hard and Hop heard her cry out as she went down. He ran across the field to rescue her. There were tears in her eyes; her hands shook as she inched them closer to a swollen knee. He scooped her up gently, as if he was carrying a wounded dove. The injury was a painful shade of purple and red. Joyce’s fingers threaded into the same shirt that was wet with her tears. Except now, she wasn’t hurt.

Joyce grinned up at him with such admiration that he feared his heart would burst right out of his chest. He laid her on the bed furthest from the door and immediately his hands were on her, making her moan.

She undressed him between kisses, stopping only once to curse at the buttons on his shirt. He chuckled and took her hands in his own. He kissed them before pulling the shirt over his head. A moment later they were both unclothed and reveling in the feel of each other. He could feel Joyce’s hands at his neck as his body met hers, and he moved to graze the skin above her navel. Ragged cries escaped her mouth and he felt her nails digging into his back as she arched towards him. Pain seared through his body and he jerked backwards, pulling himself away from her as he gave an agonized cry.

“Jim, are you alright?” her voice was overcome with worry.

He groaned and hid his face behind both hands. “It’s the scars. They’re not…fully healed yet.” he hated to hear his own voice crack as he spoke to her. He wanted to please her, but now he only felt more pathetic than before.

“I hurt you.”

He wanted to hold her face in his hands and tell her that she was wrong. She refused to look at him. “It wasn’t your fault, Joyce.”

“I thought you were dead, Jim.”

The two phrases became a tangled mess as they overlapped each other.

“You did what you had to do. I would never hold that against you, even if I hadn’t made it out.”

Finally her eyes sought him out again. His mind flinched against the raw guilt that he saw inside those auburn depths, but he recognized that she was coming to terms with this as she wiped away her own tears.

They held each other again. Joyce begged him to hold her longer, and he wrapped her in a strong embrace. He flooded her with chaste kisses until their bodies were once again so close that he couldn’t move without nuzzling her, causing them both to chuckle. She moved to lay her head on his chest. He gave a contented sigh and let his pain slip away underneath her.

Jim and Joyce were silent. What else was there to say? They both knew that they couldn’t stay in the warmth of each other forever. When the sun came up, Hop and Joyce would be in the thick of trouble in Hawkins again. He watched as Joyce dozed against him, fighting sleep so that she could linger in the moment just a little longer. Tomorrow they would see the kids. Things would go back to their weird version of normal. And yet, the glances between them would never leave. His fingers curled into Joyce’s hair. He combed out the mats until he couldn’t hold his eyes open. When he fell asleep this time, the feel of her body against his didn’t disappear. In this single room it was only them, and she was all that mattered.

[eldritch-thrumming]

part one part two part three part four

Eddie’s skin is starting to itch. It’s been two weeks since the night Lucas called him, begging Eddie to hang out with Steve so he could take Max to the movies without a chaperone. The night in Eddie’s trailer had been great, honestly. Better than Eddie ever could have expected. Steve was cool and he had a lot of opinions about things. Talking to him was fun in a way that Eddie hadn’t expected. He let Eddie tease him, but he gave just as good as he got. He didn’t take himself too seriously. Eddie liked that in a friend.

Eddie had, of course, had a crush on Steve before the events of Spring Break. He could admit it now. Any living, breathing, red-blooded American teenager with a lick of sense would have. Eddie wasn’t stupid and he certainly wasn’t blind. He’d seen Steve in that stupid little uniform back when he’d worked at the mall. But it was more of a “look how pretty he is from a distance because you’re certainly never going to touch” crush grounded in very realistic expectations than a “wow he’s so amazing and sweet and protective and really kind of funny and yeah, wow, okay, this is going to kill me when it crashes and burns” type of crush.

Eddie hadn't felt particularly guilty about the whole “hanging out with Steve for money” situation--or Operation: Distract the Babysitter as Mike and Lucas had taken to calling it--mostly because he’d been hanging out with Steve in group settings. His job had been solely to distract Steve so the kids could go off and do their own thing. But the kids had been calling in their favors for one-on-one hangout sessions more and more frequently in the past few weeks, ever since Lucas has told them how successful his Saturday night at the movies had been (and Eddie had tried very hard to tune that particular conversation out). But taking money from the little assholes and distracting Steve during trips to the arcade and days at the mall was a lot different than taking their money to orchestrate solo movie nights in his own trailer or smoke sessions in Steve’s bedroom. He was starting to feel a little dirty about it and not the fun kind of dirty, either.

That didn’t necessarily mean he was going to stop though. He still wanted to hang out with Steve and he was using the money to finance their hangouts; sometimes Mike’s allowance bought them a six-pack, sometimes Lucas’s lawn-mowing change got them more pretzels at the arcade. It made the whole situation feel just a little more ethical. At least that’s what he told himself. 

Eddie thought he could maybe get away with it. He thought maybe soon he’d tell the kids to keep their money. He’d only wanted to teach them a lesson anyway. But it was so easy to take their cash. It was like taking candy from a baby. They were so stupid and so lame about it too. He doesn’t really see a reason to stop yet. 

At least, he doesn’t until Robin corners him one afternoon in the back of Family Video while Steve is on his break. He’d run over to the convenient store across the street just before Eddie had pulled up in his van.

“What’s this I hear about you taking money from the kids?” Robin asks him, scowling as she says it. She’s got one finger pointed directly at the center of his chest and Eddie can see her knuckles going white at how tightly she’s clenching her fist. 

“Uh, not sure what you mean, Robs.” Eddie isn’t stupid. He knows the first rule of getting accused of anything, regardless of guilt, is deny, deny, deny, unless and until evidence is found against you. And even then, only stop denying when the evidence is really convincing. His skin feels tight around his collarbones and he can feel sweat breaking out across his back.

“Don’t pull that shit with me, Munson.” Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever heard Robin sound like this, a mix of irritation and frustration, something protective in the way she stands in front of him. “Nancy heard Mike talking on the phone with El. What’s this whole thing you’re doing with Steve?”

Eddie swallows, but his throat is dry. “I really don’t know what you mean. Seriously. We’re just hanging out.”

“So you’re not taking money from the kids. You’re just friends with Steve.” She doesn’t even say it like a question and that, for some reason, makes Eddie feel like a particularly low life form, like he’s something she’d scrape off the bottom of her shoe. She crosses her arms over her chest and her expression makes it clear that she isn’t buying a word that Eddie says.

He tries to swallow again. He doesn’t think he’s felt this nervous since he landed in an alternate dimension back in March. “Listen.” He holds his hands up in front of his chest in mock surrender. “The kids just asked me to hang with Steve. To distract him. He’s been hovering, I guess. I know he’s worried. But they just want him to back off a little. Relax. He deserves to relax.” His voice comes out soft towards the end. He thinks that Robin must hear the blatant affection in his voice, the feelings that he couldn’t even hide if he tried, because her stance loosens. The scowl turns into a frown. He doesn’t even let himself feel embarrassed for what he’s clearly revealed to her. He’ll agonize over it later. 

“Yeah, he’s been a bit... clingy since. Well, everything,” she admits. “I mean, understandably. But he does deserve some down time.”

Eddie nods. “And look,” he says. “I like hanging out with him. He’s awesome. And the little twerps deserve to have their money stolen from them.”

Robin looks sharply at him. “You have to tell him.”

“Rob...” Eddie starts, but he doesn’t know how to finish. He knows she’s right. Steve deserves to know. 

Before either of them can say anything else, the front door opens wide and Steve comes walking through with a bag of chips and a soda in his hand. 

“Eddie, hey!” Steve greets him with a blinding grin, genuinely pleased to see him, even though they’d hung out just the night before, smoking a joint between the two of them in the cool air out by Steve’s pool so Mike could take El out to the diner for ice cream. 

Eddie can’t help but return the smile as Steve makes his way around the front counter. Robin and Eddie are still in the back corner of the store, by the horror section where Eddie had been browsing while he’d waited for Steve to return. 

Robin’s voice drops low when she whispers, “You have to tell him, Eddie. Not now, but soon. Please. He deserves to know. He likes you. He likes hanging out with you. You have to tell him.” She says it all in a rush, before turning back to the counter and making her way over to Steve. Eddie’s heart flutters for a moment at her words. He likes you. He likes hanging out with you. But then he looks over to where Steve is pulling a Snickers from his pocket, handing it to Robin and smiling down at her. You have to tell him. His heart plummets into his stomach, because Robin is right. Eddie has to tell Steve.

part 5 part 6 part 6 1/2

~*~

My night got a little derailed, so I can’t post the Empire Records AU I had planned for today, but! I wanted to give you all a lil something for Valentine’s Day, so here’s part four of the 10 Things I Hate About You AU <3 <3

I tried my best to proofread this, but I took some Benadryl and I was very much struggling with tense here for whatever reason, so please please please forgive me. Love you. Kiss you. Thank you.

Thank you all so so so much for your interest in this silly lil series. I’ve tagged everyone who has asked (I hope! Sorry if I missed you, I promise I did not mean to!) on the previous parts here, but after this part, I’m not going to do a taglist anymore (I’ll continue to copy and paste it from here, but won’t add anyone new). I appreciate the energy so much and I love that you guys love this and want to stay updated, but it’s really hard and time consuming and making sure everyone is tagged is giving me just a lil anxiety so I think I’ll be able to update faster if I don’t have to worry about it in the future. I hope you can understand! I think you can turn on post notifications if you want to see more; I always update previous parts with the new links :)

Hope you all enjoy this installment! A Robin appearance for the holiday :)

Taglist: @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @ajamlessbaby @cartoonlesbianss @adaed5 @blackpearlcjacks @artiststarme @tremendous-amount-of-ships @steddieassheg0es @readbythestarlight @i-wanna-combust @rainydays35 @chaoticsgood @lightwoodbanethings @v3lnys @a-huge-nerdy-nerd @messrs-weasley @bookworm1333 @gregre369 @gay-little-bitch @iswearitsjustme @meel45@haluton @blue-little-silly-and-unsure @silentiumdelirium @moonlightmirrorball @jezabella8 @sultrypickle @4nemo1egend @just-ladyme @resident-gay-bitch @didntwant2come @phantypurple @ilovecupcakesandtea @stevesbipanic @just-ladyme @rebelattic @fruitykiwinerd @annoyinglyfanon @briceslayed @and-say @sadcanadianwinter @bornonthesavage @elliegrey2803 @flustratedcas @disasterlia @hippytater @darkdestiny040 @anaibis @moonythepluviophile @practicallybegging @callme-keys @gendersnatcher @boop369 @theysherobinbuckley @spectrum-spectre

[owlsinleatherjackets]

finally loved and hated something simultaneously (season 4 of Stranger Things, obviously) enough to be driven to the point of invention, y’all!! only two chapters in and only vague ideas about where it’s headed, but feel free to follow along!

Dear Max...

[grabyourpillow]

Your future is out there, kid (2/3)

__

Eddie and Will have a conversation after a sleepover at Steve's.

<<Part 1

___

"Okay listen."

Eddie brings the boy away from the table, to the stove, and seats him onto the kitchen chair, while Eddie takes back his designated seat on the table.

"The way I see it?" Eddie doesn't have a presentation, so he makes a frame with his hands.

"If you didn't have those... visions, this, Vecna shit, the Mind Flayer, this Upside Down, all of it, would still be there.

"Only wouldn't have been no one to friggin tell us about it. So I, for one," he pats Will on the shoulder, "am pretty glad you are the way you are." 

Will looks at Eddie like he's fucking Gandalf. "I, never thought about it like that," he murmurs, pensive.

"And if you want my, humble," Eddie bows a little  "Munson opinion. If I had lived through half of the shit that you did, I wouldn't want to even think about this place again. So this lot" he points through the window at the group, still asleep outside. "Are quite lucky to have you, If I may say so."

Will's follows Eddie's movement, looking at the sleeping forms of the other teenagers for a moment.

His eyes are slightly red and glassy when they turn back to Eddie. 

He looks down, trying very hard not to cry.

"Um. Thank you.  Oh sorry" he says, wiping the corners of his eyes, getting up quickly and looking around to find tissues. 

"Here," Eddie hands him the box that is behind the counter. He knows Steve's house by heart by now. "Now sit back down, I'm not finished."

 

"One more thing. Eddie adds, when Will obliges, and has blown his nose.

"It's not my place to tell you what to do but– relax I'm not telling you to tell Mike," he clarifies quickly when a panicked look crosses Will's features. "If you don't want to. But..." Eddie pauses, trying to think of the right words.

"You deserve someone who sees you. If that's Mike, then great. If not then, just know. You will find people who see you for who you are. Might not be here, might not be now. But you will. I promise. Mmmkay?" 

Will looks down, tears having started to form while Eddie was talking, now silently rolling down his cheeks and falling onto the table. 

Eddie watches him for a second.

"I didn't believe it either," he adds, softly, without really meaning to.

Will looks up at him. "But now you do?"

"Starting to, yeah." Eddie muses.

Then he jumps up, and claps the boy on the back hard, making him jump.

"Come on!!" Eddie pulls him up and manoeuvres him to the living room. "Don't be so sad." 

Eddie has one hand lying on Will's neck, the other pointing outside, where the sun is rising over the green treetops of the surrounding forest.

"Your future, is out there. Your whole life, ahead of you." 

Will nods through the sobs, and it seems like he's smiling at the same time. "Yeah," he nods. "Yeah."

They stand there in silence for a few moments, watching the daybreak, the first rays of sunlight chasing the smoky darkness away.

It doesn't take too long, before a sleepy, scarecrow-haired Mike, steps through the door. 

"You guys are up early," Mike yawns.

A panicked look crosses Will's eyes.

Rats fucking balls.

"Well!!" Eddie lets go of Will and exclaims "Will! That's a. Uh. surprising allergy you got there. I mean, look at you! Red eyes'n... Shit.

"Must be the wood," Eddie finishes, directing a helpless shrug at Mike, like the older ladies do sometimes. 

"You have allergies Will?" Mike asks, immediately concerned.

"Yeah... Right. New allergy," Will goes along. "Must be the... wood." 

He sends a grateful look to Eddie, while Mike walks over to take a look at him.

Eddie exhales. 

"I might have something for that," Mike says, studying Wills eyes.

"Oh no, I'm fine. It will pass."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." 

Eddie quietly, tiptoes away.

"Do you want breakfast? I made some cocoa," he hears Will say. 

That boy is just too precious.

___

<<Part 1

>>Part 3(end)

Read full chapter on ao3 (it's chapter 11 of Upside to the Down)