witch-of-sadness - Tumblr blog

witch-of-sadness · 3 days

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Heaven and Hell (Or: Eddie and Evil Woman Do… Prom?!) Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie and Evil Woman are *checks notes* going to prom? Like normies?! Contains: A high school prom, two nervous freaks, an ill-fitting wardrobe, an unfortunate zit, dancing, references to other E/EW fics nobody will remember, relentless teasing, a happy ending. Words: 4.5k

"Prom's next month."

You stop playing with Eddie's hair and look down at the head lying in your lap in surprise.

He keeps his eyes on the TV. A blush creeps into his cheeks. Is Eddie Munson seriously thinking about going to prom? You fight a smile and start working your fingers through his hair again.

"Yup… that's what they said on the morning announcements."

Silence. No way he's that interested in the orange juice commercial you've seen ten times today. Eddie Munson is thinking about prom, and he's in the process of chickening out.

"You ever been?" you ask.

"Nah," he says, eyes still on the TV. "You?"

"Nah."

He bites his lip. You can't take it anymore.

"You thinkin' about going?"

He shrugs.

If you were a more patient person, you could poke and prod at him until he finally asked you. However…

"Well, if you were planning on asking me, you're too late."

He finally looks up at you, confusion on his face.

"I've rekindled my romance with Chief Hopper."

A smile spreads across Eddie's face.

"I'm sorry, Eddie," you sigh. "What we had was fun, but you just don't have the stamina. Sometimes a girl just NEEDS full night of porking."

You both snort at the same time, which leads to a fit of giggles.

When you recover, you brush his bangs out of his face. He sighs.

"So, uh…" He licks his lips while he tries to find his words. "If the bacon falls through, would you maybe think about going with me?"

You open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off. "Because it's kinda my last chance, and I know it's stupid, and it goes against everything I stand for, and it'll probably be miserable, and the music's gonna suck, and you probably have a way better idea of what we could do that night, but… ugh, never mind."

Eddie turns back toward the TV, shaking his head so some of his hair hides his burning face. You gently brush it back behind his ear, looking down at him with all the love in your heart.

"Eddie?"

"Hm."

"You're the only person I'd think about going to prom with."

"Really?" He looks up at you with an uneasy smile.

"Yeah," you answer, tracing the shell of his ear.

"We don't have to."

"I know," you smile. "I want to go with you." He smiles back sleepily. "But if I get Carrie'd, I can't promise I'll spare you."

"Kay," he chuckles.

"Mother?" you ask, hovering in the living room doorway.

"Daughter?" she responds from the couch, without looking up from her book.

You take a deep breath and stare at the floor.

"Ineedapromdress."

"What?"

You sigh and raise your head. "I need a prom dress."

Her book drops to her lap, revealing wide eyes behind her glasses.

"What did you just say to me?"

"I need a prom dress," you repeat with a roll of your eyes.

"Oh my god! I have a child who's voluntarily attending a school function!"

"What's up?" Gareth asks from behind you.

"They're going to the prom!"

You slowly turn and see him looking at you in amusement.

"Shut up," you order before he can even say anything.

"She's even gonna wear a dress!" your mother shrieks.

"Shut up," you repeat, glaring at Gareth's stupid smirky face. "Kay, I'm going to bed, open to shopping suggestions and financial contributions, good night."

You squeeze past him and make a mad dash for your room.

"They're all gonna laugh at you!" Gareth warbles in his best Piper Laurie impression.

"Shut up!" you repeat one last time, then slam your bedroom door.

"He's heeeere," Gareth announces as he passes by your bedroom door.

"You look perfect," your mom assures you.

She's been working on your makeup for fifteen minutes, and it's finally the way she wants it. And you have to admit… you look pretty damn good.

She'd taken you to the city for a day of shopping, and after several hours of hunting, you'd actually found a dress without puffed sleeves, ruffles, or tulle.

"Give me a minute, I want the camera on his face when he sees you," your mom says excitedly.

"Mother, it's a high school prom, it's not our wedding."

"Let me have this!" she whisper-yells. She grabs her camera and leaves the room.

You take one last look at yourself, stand, and slip on your shoes. Heels. You're even wearing fucking heels.

You walk down the hall and turn into the kitchen…

Eddie Munson is wearing a suit.

You'd offered to help him look for one, or find him something in the city, but he said he had it covered. And he did. He's even wearing a tie, and he's tamed his hair somehow. He looks freakishly presentable (for Eddie) and is holding what you imagine is a corsage in a box.

"Hi."

"Hey."

You stand there and stare at each other. Awkward. It's awkward.

"Eddie! Give her the corsage!" Your mom stage-whispers.

He tries to hold it out to you, but fumbles it and drops it on the floor. You both reach down to get it, and you hear a RIIIP tear through the kitchen. You both stand immediately, looking and feeling your outfits.

"Was that you or me?" you ask, trying to feel the back of your dress. You knew this fucker was too tight. But your question is answered when all the blood drains out of Eddie's panicked face.

"Let me see, honey," your mom says gently, putting a hand on his shoulder to turn him. The seam in the back of his jacket has ripped.

"Dude! You Hulked out on prom night," Gareth laughs from his seat at the kitchen table.

You give him a warning shush, and for once, he obeys.

"Slip that off, I'll have it as good as new in no time." Your mom helps Eddie out of his jacket and takes it in the direction of her sewing machine. You carefully retrieve the corsage from the floor and put it on the table.

"Uh… that's for you," he mumbles, the color returning to his face.

"Thank you," you smile, leaving the box closed until your mother can return and witness this sacred and not-at-all stupid prom ritual.

You turn to Eddie and lift a hand to run through his suspiciously tame hair.

"Don't look at it," Eddie mumbles.

"Don't look at what?" you ask.

"His third eye," Gareth supplies helpfully. That's when you notice the zit between his eyes. Eddie's face reddens so much that it almost blends in. Gareth snickers. You pick up a damp kitchen towel, ball it up, and throw it at him. It hits him in the ear.

"Don't you have some place to be?" you ask pointedly.

"Nope," he grins, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Mom's taking me to Jeff's after you leave."

You roll your eyes, reach for Eddie's hand, and pull him to your bedroom.

"Sit," you instruct, pointing at your desk. He drops into the chair with a defeated sigh. You start digging through your extremely elegant shoebox full of makeup, then realize what you need. "I'll be right back," you whisper with a kiss to the top of his head.

You return with a cotton ball.

"What's that?"

"Wite-Out. My make-up's too dark for you," you joke.

Eddie's brow furrows, and you apply a dab of peroxide to his unfortunate growth. When it dries, you reach for the concealer.

"What are you doing?" he asks nervously.

"Covering that up."

He sits silently and watches you reach for this and that to cover his bump, and when you stand back and smile, he frowns.

"What's wrong?" you ask. "I can wipe it off if you want, I thought you wanted it gone."

"I feel like a clown," he grumbles.

"You are a clown."

He pouts. You point at the mirror, and he leans over to see his camouflage… and his jaw drops. You lean down until your head is next to his, so you can see what he sees.

"Witchcraft," he whispers.

"You know it, babe," you wink.

"One freshly tailored suit jacket for the young lad," your mom announces as she steps into the room. Eddie stands, and she helps him into it. She brushes her hand along the seam. "Good as new!" she declares. "But no break-dancing tonight." Eddie laughs.

After the official corsage and boutonniere exchange in the kitchen, you're marched into the living room for pictures. Each pose is goofier than the last, but you aren't allowed to leave until your mom finishes off a roll of film.

You both breathe a sigh of relief when the van doors slam shut.

"You still wanna do this, or do you wanna go get blazed and hide out at my place?" Eddie asks, probably about 40% joking.

"What time is it?" you ask. Eddie consults his watch and reads the time back to you. You pretend to consider it for a second, then shake your head. "Chief Hopper is expecting me in 15 minutes, and my little piggy does not like to be kept waiting."

Eddie snorts and starts the engine. Hawkins High Prom 1986 it is.

"Where'd you get your suit?" you ask a few minutes into the surprisingly awkward drive.

"George. The thrift shop guy. Told him I needed something prom-worthy. This was his grandson's. 'He's a lanky thing, just like you,' he said."

"It's nice," you admire.

"It's a little small, but… y'know." Eddie shrugs. "Price was right."

"Is it uncomfortable?"

"It's… a little tight," he admits.

"Baby, you don't have to wear stuff if it makes you uncomfortable."

"It's fine… as long as I don't have to move my arms much."

"Is it the shirt too, or just the jacket?"

"Mostly the jacket, the shirt's got some stretch to it."

"Ditch it."

"Ticket says jacket and tie required."

"Ditch it as soon as they let us in."

"This is why you're the brains of this operation," he mumbles as he pulls into a parking spot.

"Correct," you grin.

"Stay," Eddie orders, hopping down and scrambling around the front of the van to open your door. You're suddenly reminded of your first official date; he'd tried so hard to be someone else, but you didn't want someone else. You wanted Eddie Munson, and you wanted him just the way he was. You take his hand and slide to the ground, wincing as your heels hit the pavement.

"Is your battle armor in here?" you ask, nodding toward the back.

"Of course."

"Fetch."

Eddie smirks and walks toward the back, and you shut your door and follow him. He grabs his leather jacket and patch-filled vest, and hugs the pair to his chest.

You reach for them, and he hands them over. You separate the pair while he watches nervously, like you're separating conjoined twins that he personally gave birth to.

"Lose the child-sized suit jacket," you instruct. He tries, but gets stuck almost immediately. You muffle a laugh and step behind him to help him out of it, then slide his plain leather jacket on.

He looks more comfortable already. And considerably more Eddie-like. You go to transfer his boutonniere to his jacket pocket… but he doesn't have one. A bit of quick thinking and one rip later, his dumb little flower is attached with a strip of duct tape. You step back to admire him.

"There he is," you smile.

"Now he's gotta find his girl," Eddie says, "and then they can go do this damn prom thing."

You look down at your outfit and back at him, but he's already digging… through your overnight bag?

"Eddie, what--"

He cuts you off by slapping the soles of your favorite sneakers on the floor of his van.

"You've been wincing with every damn step since you walked into the kitchen. Lose the shoes."

You grin and sit down to swap your heels for sneakers. Sneakers that Eddie vandalized during a particularly boring assembly. It was one of the reasons why they were your favorites; the boy's a ballpoint artist. The other was--oh, that's nice. You stand comfortably and breathe a sigh of relief.

"You want a little liquid courage?" Eddie asks, shaking a bottle of liquor at you.

"Sure," you answer. You each take a swig in hopes of making your night a little more bearable. Eddie stashes the bottle in the van and slams the back doors shut.

"M'lady," he says, offering an arm. You take it, and walk toward the Hawkins High gym doors. Any time now, alcohol.

A cheerleader-in-training eyes you warily, but takes your tickets and lets you pass by her table into the gym… decked out in streamers and balloons. Wicked classy, Hawkins High.

"And you say I never take you anywhere nice," Eddie grins.

"I have literally, not once, ever said that."

Eddie laughs and takes your hand.

"Munson?!" a voice shrieks.

"Yeah?" he asks uneasily, turning to see Mrs. O'Donnell.

"What are you doing here?"

You look at each other, and back at her.

"Whatever people usually do at prom, I guess?"

"I'll have no shenanigans from you tonight, Munson."

"Wouldn't dream of it, O'Donnell."

"Don't even think about going near that punch bowl," she warns.

"Why, what's in the punch bowl?" he asks. You try to keep a straight face.

"Just punch, and that's the way it's going to stay. Isn't that right, Mr. Munson?"

"Yes, ma'am," he says innocently.

Mrs. O'Donnell looks you both up and down, sucks her teeth in disapproval, and walks away without another word.

"Like I'd waste good liquor on these ungrateful assholes," he mumbles. "Do have an emergency flask in my pocket, by the way."

"Aww, and I thought you were just happy to see me."

"That's in the other pocket," he winks.

"C'mon," you laugh, pulling him to the other side of the gym. Once you're in a quiet spot, you scan the room for familiar faces. You knew you were pretty much on your own - all of the other Hellfire boys were having a movie marathon and sleepover at Jeff's - but you thought you'd look for potential allies anyway.

"There's Nancy Wheeler," you notice.

"And the Elder Byers," Eddie points out.

"I think we're on our own, babe."

"Just how I like it," he grins.

"You gonna dance with me, or just stand here lookin' pretty all night?" you ask.

Eddie responds by flipping his hair over his shoulder dramatically.

"C'mon," you smile, nodding toward the dance floor. He balks.

"This song sucks."

"Every song's gonna suck," you remind him.

"This one sucks more than average."

"Then how 'bout we visit the snack table and lay a curse on the punch while we wait for something that sucks slightly less?"

"This way, m'lady," he says nerdily, holding out his arm. You roll your eyes and take it anyway, working together to assemble a plate full of cheap snacks and two cups of unspiked punch. You retreat to the bleachers and pick at your bounty.

"So… this is a high school dance," he remarks.

"Yup… imagine, some people's entire high school careers revolve around this thing."

"I'd kinda rather be at home," he confesses.

"In our pajamas," you add.

"Watching shitty movies," he continues.

"Eating shittier pizza."

"Maybe fooling around a little?" He waggles his eyebrows and tilts his head toward the door.

"We went through a lot of trouble to get here, Edward. I went shopping. With my mother. You put on a suit. And a tie. And grew a stress zit."

"Shut up," he grumbles, hand instinctively touching the bump between his eyes. You lean in to kiss his cheek.

"Let's give it an hour. You've gotta dance with me at least once."

"Fine," he pouts. You feed him crackers, and he starts to relax a little.

When the opening chords of "Footloose" blare through the speakers, Eddie cringes. The people on the dance floor go wild.

"C'mon," you order, standing up and reaching for his hand.

"No."

"Yes."

"Absolutely not."

"Eddie Munson, you get your spastic ass on this dance floor with your dumb-ass classmates right now."

He whines, and looks… nervous? You sit back down, face full of concern. He scans the crowd, and you look too. Eyes keep darting to you. Not outright staring. Just keeping an eye on you. Like your whereabouts are a matter of public safety. You've been so focused on Eddie, you haven't bothered to pay attention to everyone else.

"It's just…" he starts, and then stops.

"Eddie?" you ask quietly, turning your head back to him. "This is our prom, too." You slide a little closer to him and hold his hand. "And I'm glad I'm here with you."

Eddie leans his forehead against yours and squeezes your hand.

"You think they're upset that we had the nerve to show up?" you smirk.

"Probably ruined their whole night," he grins. "Dear Diary, the freaks crashed prom."

"And ate all the fucking snacks," you laugh.

A flash makes you both jump.

"Sorry," Jonathan Byers smiles apologetically from behind his camera. "You guys were being cute, and Nancy demanded a photo for the yearbook."

"It's cool, man," Eddie grins. "Can we get a copy of that?"

"Sure," Jonathan nods. "They hired a professional photographer for portraits, by the way. Over in the corner. It's included in the ticket price."

"Cool," Eddie says.

"Anddd Nancy's waving me back," Jonathan groans. "You guys have fun tonight. At least some of the freaks should."

You and Eddie both chuckle as Jonathan goes back to Nancy for his next assignment, hearts in his eyes completely undermining his complaints.

"Well…" Eddie puffs his cheeks and blows out a breath of air. He's experienced all that prom has to offer, and is clearly not impressed.

"One picture, one dance, and we're the fuck outta here," you propose.

"Deal," he agrees.

You walk, hand-in-hand, over to the photographer's corner and get in line behind three other couples. Well, two. Kimmy Little sees you standing in line behind her, and drags her date off in the other direction. You and Eddie share a knowing look, but say nothing.

When the time comes, the photographer instructs you to assume the traditional prom photo position, and you do. You let Eddie hold you around the waist and smile like a total fucking jackass for several seconds while you wait for the flash. You and Eddie stumble away with spotty vision and hands tightly clasped. He's your lifeline, and you're not letting him go.

When your vision returns, you look from the bleachers to the exit. Is it really worth walking all the way back over there to sit and be bored, when you could just leave and have this lame night be over with?

Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time" starts playing through the gym's shitty speakers, and you smile. You're a sucker for this one. Eddie looks at you with dread. He knows what's coming.

Silently, you slip backward into the crowd and pull him with you. He doesn't protest this time. He follows, eyes not leaving yours. The crowd must have parted for you. Perhaps there are advantages to loving the resident freak. You stand close and put his hands where they belong, and then yours. You stare into Eddie Munson's eyes and sway slowly to a song he tolerates, only for you.

You're glad you came. You're glad you're with him. You're glad this is the song you got to dance to. You're glad he made you swap your heels for sneakers.

But mostly, you're glad when the song is over, because you come together for a quick kiss and make a mad dash toward the exit.

"You son of a bitch," Eddie growls, trying to force his suit onto a hanger.

"Leave it, gremlin, I'll do it."

"Thank you," Eddie grins, throwing his suit on the bed and kissing your freshly scrubbed cheek. You'd washed off all your makeup and hair products together, had a little fun in the shower, put on pajamas, and smoked a joint to wind down. You were thrilled to look and feel like yourselves again. "I'm gonna go pop a pizza in the oven. Put something good on, I need to cleanse my poor ears of the top 40 garbage they were subjected to tonight."

"Yes, dear," you deadpan, hanging up your dress as he exits the room.

"Music!" he whines from the hallway.

"FINE!" you yell back. You pop in the first mix tape you find and turn up the volume. You force Eddie's suit on a hanger, put the formal-wear in the hall closet, and join him in the kitchen.

He's sitting on the counter, watching the clock and drinking directly out of a nearly empty two-liter pop bottle.

"You really know how to treat a girl," you smirk.

He burps in response.

You feel like you should roll your eyes or pretend to be annoyed, but you're so in love with this fucker, you find every dumb thing he does to be charming. You lean on the counter next to him, and he hands you the bottle. You take a swig, then pretend it's a microphone.

"I'm here with Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin, who has just been to his first and last school dance! Tell us, Eddie, how was the Hawkins High prom?" you ask, placing the open bottle by his mouth.

"Sucked dick, thanks for asking!"

"It did not suck dick!" you protest, slamming the bottle on the counter with a slosh.

"It sucked some pretty major dick," he argues.

"You got to spend time with the woman you love! In a formal setting! She wore a damn dress for you!"

"I like her better in pajamas."

"Only because I'm not wearing a bra," you scoff.

"Well… I mean, yeah," he says, hopping off the counter and taking your hands in his. "Don't get me wrong, the dress was great. Have deposited the cleavage situation in the spank bank, so thanks for that. But this is just… better. 'Cause this is us."

When you're right, you're right.

The opening chords of Black Sabbath's "Heaven and Hell" play through Eddie's bedroom speakers, and a wave of appreciation for where you are and who you're with washes over you.

"No bowtie-wearing jocks or frilly little bitches staring at us," you smile, sliding your hands to his shoulders and pulling him close.

"No restrictive clothing," he smirks, letting his eyes linger on your chest as he settles his hands on your waist.

"Eyes are up here, Munson," you remind him as you begin to sway subtly.

He looks up and grins. "Those are pretty okay, too, I guess."

You smack him in the chest, and he laughs.. and then his face falls.

"You tricked me," he accuses.

"How did I trick you?"

"This is our second dance!"

"Yes, but its to our music, so it's counteracting the pop-adjacent one at the actual dance."

"Ugh, fine," he pretends to cave with a roll of his eyes.

You keep dancing until the song starts to pick up, and Eddie looks at you with his eyes full of mischief. He starts moving just a little faster from side to side, swaying with the music as it builds. Before you know it, those spastic moves you tried to coax out of him at prom were coming out in his kitchen. You would have been perfectly satisfied to just watch him dance like a dweeb, but he grabs both of your hands and forces you to join him. You do so happily.

You dance, you spin, and you laugh together in the Munson's kitchen to a mixtape of Eddie's own making. It's the most fun you've had in weeks. Why did you spend so long stressing over prom? Prom was nothing. Prom was a bunch of rich kids in tacky, overpriced clothes that you'd be laughing at in twenty years. This is real. This is what you should be living for.

When the song begins to wind down, you and Eddie are nearly out of breath from all the head-banging and jumping around. The slow dancing resumes without complaint.

"I think this is the Heaven part," you observe.

"Huh?"

"Heaven and Hell," you say, looking up into his beautiful red face. His bangs are stuck to his sweaty forehead. His zit has lessened in intensity after a post-shower application of peroxide. His eyes are big and round and curious. This boy is perfect, and he's all yours. "Prom was Hell. Other people are Hell. This, right here? Me and you? This is the Heaven part."

Eddie's eyes crinkle as he smiles. He pulls you in close and crushes you in a hug. You squeeze him back and breathe in the calming, familiar scent of him. You love this boy more than anything.

"I love you," you mumble into his shoulder.

"I love you too," he responds. "Even if you did make me go to prom."

"This was your idea, fool," you laugh, giving him a backwards shove.

"Not how I remember it," he grins. He laces his fingers and holds them under his chin, bats his eyelashes, and continues in a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like you: "'Oh Eddie my love, please, won't you take me to prom? It would be the highlight of my life!' Pretty sure you begged. Groveled, even."

"You are insufferable," you laugh, pushing him away from you.

"You're the one who made me go to prom!"

"You know, Munson, according to the pamphlets that everyone's been throwing at me all week, most teenagers have sex on prom night. But I think you're gonna have to get your ass kicked instead. C'mere."

"No!" he yelps, backing into a corner. "Please! I have children!"

"We don't have to share our pizza with them, do we?" you laugh, too lazy to engage in a play-fight with him.

"Pfft. No." He relaxes. "I wouldn't even share with you if I didn't have to."

Your jaw drops.

"I'm kidding!" he insists, coming forward to envelop you in a hug. You go rigid and refuse to hug him back. "I'm kidding. You know I'd save my last Fudge Round for you."

"Oh, really?" you smile, looking up at him.

"Eh… Nutty Buddy, maybe?" He screws up his face in concentration. "Nah. Oatmeal Creme Pie?"

"You are unbelievable," you scoff with a shake of your head.

"You love me anyway."

"Yeah, I guess," you sigh in defeat. "But please don't tell Chief Hopper. It would break his heart."

"Oh my God," Eddie groans, pushing you away and rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.

You cackle, and the oven timer dings.

This is definitely Heaven, but you've still gotta give him a little Hell.

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witch-of-sadness · 13 days

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Joey's Santa Fe chicken has its origins in the time when his first marriage was falling apart and he drove on auto pilot for 12 hours and ended up in a tiny resturant in Santa's Fe run by a husband and wife who were in their 70's and clearly still in love and he just cried into his chicken enchiladas- that's why it's ass- it tastes of heart brake, failure and salty tears.

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witch-of-sadness · 13 days

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Bistro Huddy Head Cannon

Aaron- Doesn't know how to use a knife and fork properly

Amber- Buys People magazines

Brad- was a child model for Ralph Lauren

Brigitte- is VERY into Animal Crossing

Clint- is Canadian and moved to L.A to act

Joey- his family has a restaurant in Brooklyn and the fact that he hasn't taken it over is BRAKING HIS MOTHERS HEART

Nico- can brake dance

Nicole- saw Hustlers and believes she could be a very highly sought after stripper but she has too much integrity. She couldn't.

Pickles- doesn't have a drivers licence and isn't aware he needs one.

Ruby- cannot date anymore because every girl tells her on the first date that they love her Ruby Rose vibe

Terry- was really cut up when Princess Diana died

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witch-of-sadness · 22 days

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Eddie Munson Tattoos transparent pngs 🦇🎸

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witch-of-sadness · 22 days

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Prettiest Bitch

Description: you and Eddie have a special way of showing each other you care.

A/N: this is a real life fucking story of me and my partner lmao. Please like and reblog if you enjoy it sweetheart.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, established relationship, mean Eddie and mean reader but it's just fun and games, reader is AFAB, female oral receiving.

Masterlist

900 words

Laying on Eddie's sofa, you bask in the warm glow of being near him. Your legs were draped over his as you rifled through a book that you were barely paying attention to. Eddie's hand is up your loose pyjama pants, tracing soft circles on the bare skin of your calf.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah sweets?"

"You've always got to be touching me, don't you."

"Suppose so."

You smirk, pulling his hand out of your pants. He whines like a child that just got his favourite toy confiscated.

"Why?"

"Dunno, I just want your skin."

Laughing loudly, you scoot closer on your knees, just shy of climbing onto his lap.

"You want my skin? That sounds so fuckin' weird."

Eddie drops his voice into an odd gravelly gasp, the one he reserves for goblin NPCs when he's DM.

"Eddie wants it! Give Eddie your skin!"

Before you can react he's pulling you onto his lap, hands wandering up your top and stroking hard at the exposed flesh.

"You dumbass that tickles! Stop!"

"Never!" He doubles down his efforts, lifting your t-shirt and blowing a wet raspberry on your stomach. You try to lean away but he has you trapped.

Finally wiggling from his grasp in a fit of breathless giggles, your rump bumps heavily on the floor.

"You're an idiot, Munson."

"Yeah? Well you like me, so who's the idiot now?"

"Still you!" You flip him the bird and he pokes his tongue out at you at the same time.

Now eye level with the coffee table, a leaflet catches your eye.

"What's this? Hawkins County fair?"

Leafing through it, you hear Eddie's chuckle.

"Yeah, just a bunch of farmers showing off the size of their pumpkins and shit, it's so stupid."

"But look!" You wave the ad in his face as he rolls his eyes.

"Dog show Eddie! Dogs! Look, they've got categories and everything."

He goes to steal it out of your hands but you hold firmly on, reeling off some of the different categories.

"Senior dogs… there's one for puppies that's cute… oh haha look, prettiest bitch! I should enter." You nod at him and his gaze softens, sinking down to join you on the floor.

"Oh sweetheart" his thumb brushes your cheek as you melt under his gaze.

"You're not pretty."

Gasping, your eyes snap back open to see Eddie rolling on the floor gasping with fits of laughter.

"Edward James Munson! Gonna make you regret that!"

You straddle him, fingers digging bruises into his sides, trying desperately to find ticklish spots.

"It was a joke! Come on sweets, you know I'm not ticklish there."

Grinning devilishly, you straddle him backwards, clinging onto his legs like a koala.

"Nope, but you are here!"

Your fingers tickle at his socked feet as he writhes beneath you.

"Fuck, no fair! Stop!"

"Never!" Your relentless onslaught continues.

"I will kick you in the head!"

"Say I'm pretty!"

"Fine! You're pretty, stop, stop!"

You finally relinquish your hold and clamber off him still giggling triumphantly.

"Am I forgiven?"

"Nope. That was really mean Edward." You huff dramatically, folding your arms over your chest.

"Kiss it better?"

You both use that phrase. It started off with kissing your knee when you fell, then you used it to comfort him once when some jocks had been particularly mean to him, then it just melded into your day to day life.

"OK."

His smile is wicked as he pushes you to your back, fingers hooking into your pyjama pants.

"The fuck are you doing?" Gazing down at him, he smiles sinfully as he pulls your pants down in one smooth motion.

"Didn't say where, sweets."

His tongue runs the full length of your pussy and runs around your clit in a smooth circle.

"Fuck, Eddie!" Hands make their way into his unruly curls as he continues his apology, suckling at your clit.

Thick fingers probe your entrance, gliding in to curl in that spot just like you like it.

"Sweetheart, you're the prettiest girl in this trailer."

Not giving in that easily, you pull his hair.

"I'm the only girl in this trailer!"

He laughs and sucks your clit again hard, making your back arch off the floor.

"OK," he practically breathes into your cunt, "the prettiest girl in Hawkins?"

"Better."

"Fine, the prettiest girl in the fucking world."

"OK, oh shit, oh you're forgiven!" Moans replace words as he fucks you hard with his fingers, bringing you closer and closer to release.

"Don't stop, don't stop, I'm gonna come, Eddie!"

He presses the flat of his tongue against your clit hard as you ride his face into a searing wash of ecstasy.

Releasing in a broken scream, you melt into a puddle. Moments later, a very smug Eddie hovers over you.

"You are the prettiest bitch" He says, pressing a soft kiss to your nose.

Too fucked out to argue, you pull him close and hold him. You'll get him back later.

@munson-blurbs @roanniom @eddiesprincess86

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witch-of-sadness · 24 days

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witch-of-sadness · 24 days

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THE STAINS || EDDIE MUNSON X READER

Based on that scene in 04x07 with Eddie's mattress 🤭

"Those stains are, uh..." Eddie bit the inside of his cheeks. Nancy and Robin looking at him with their eyebrows arched, not quite sure if they wanted to know. Steve kept staring at the mattress, disgusted and certainly not wanting to know.

"Oh god..." Your hand covered your face, ashamed of what was in front of you. Your cheeks burning after watching your friends' faces.

Eddie's fingers were knuckles deep inside you, his mouth working on your clit as your fingers were knotting into his hair and you begged for more. "Cum for me, sweetheart." He let go of your clit with a pop sound just to go back and suck it even harder. Your back arching as your mouth and throat were dry from all the moaning and crying, your grip on his hair becoming tighter. You let out one loud moan, your legs shaking and squeezing Eddie's head between them. Eddie continued fucking you with his fingers through your orgasm, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you squirted all over the bed, soaking his face and his fingers. "Well done." Eddie praised you as he licked your juices from his lips.

He was sitting behind you, your legs wide open as he fucked you with your dildo. His other hand holding one of your thighs to keep them open. The toy had this part that vibrated against your clit constantly. Your hand went to the back of his head as you rolled your hips against the toy, wanting him to go faster. Your clit throbbed and your walls clenched around the plastic toy, Eddie continued pumping inside you. "I'm gonna- Eddie, I can't hold it." You cried out, wet sounds filling the room. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." You whimpered, Eddie took the toy out of you, enjoying the view of you cumming all over the bed as he hugged you against his body and murmured soothing words into your ear.

"Come on, baby. Cum for me, yeah?" Eddie groaned as he slammed his hips against you. Your legs were on his shoulders so his dick could go deeper inside you, brushing with his tip that sweet spot of you. His lips were on yours, kissing you and swallowing all your sounds. Your back arching and your hands gripping the sheets. "That's it, yeah. Good girl." Eddie said proudly while rubbing your clit nonstop, you soaking his abdomen, his happy trail, his fingers and the sheets with your squirt.

"I don't know what those stains are."

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witch-of-sadness · 27 days

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eddie makes you a mix tape labeled:

“songs i masturbated to before you agreed to go out with me”

…

“Vol. 1”

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witch-of-sadness · 30 days

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witch-of-sadness · 1 month

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i've been wanting to read something like this for ages, i'm in love<3

Evil Woman Sees (Big) Red Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Remember in I Touched Banana Bubblicious For You, when Evil Woman had to get gum out of Eddie's hair? Again? Well… what if she found the person responsible? Contains: A rage blackout, emotions, tears, violence, protecting Eddie Munson at all costs, consequences that are totally worth it. Words: 1k

No male teacher has ever denied a bathroom pass to a female student after she says two magic words: "Lady Problems."

You'd used this bit of witchcraft on Mr. Williams a few minutes ago, and decided to use your untimed break to check on a certain crazy-haired metalhead who meant the world to you.

You leaned against the lockers across the hall from Eddie's classroom and angled yourself so you could see him through the thin pane of glass in the door. He'd been stressing about this test all week, but by the look of him, he was doing just fine. He was so focused, he didn't even notice you were there. He was fully in the zone; eyes darting from test to scantron sheet with purpose, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth while he filled in the bubbles with the freshly sharpened #2 pencil you'd presented him with this morning. You know he's got this one.

A movement behind him catches your eye. It's Kimmy Little, reaching across the aisle to pass a note. One of those girls who had everything: popularity, good grades, new car, the body and style every magazine told teenage girls they should aspire to. She's practically perfect in every way. And she makes you sick.

No, not a note. A piece of gum. How thrilling. She unwraps it and pops it in her glossy little mouth and chews with her whole jaw. Like a cow chewing her cud. Wonder what Tiger Beat would say about this?

Your focus returns to Eddie. Looks like he's done and double-checking his work. He hadn't cared enough to do that last year. Or the year before. You smile, knowing he's really trying this time, because he wants to graduate with you. He gathers his papers to take them to the teacher's desk, and you see Kimmy lean forward and extract a wad of red gum from her mouth. When Eddie gets up, she makes her move.

That's how they're doing it. They wait until he moves so he doesn't notice the sudden weight of the gum they've planted in his hair.

She and the girl next to her shake with silent giggles as Eddie walks to the front of the classroom to turn his test in.

With gum in his fucking hair.

* ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** * ** *** **** ***** **** ** * ** *** **** ***** **** ** *

"HEY!"

A yell. Muffled. Ears ringing.

Something squeezing you. Arms?

The arms are dragging you backward.

Instinct tells you to fight it.

You twist. Kick. Boots leave black streaks on the white classroom floor. Your gaze follows the streaks until they turn into… is that blood?

You stop struggling.

Kimmy Little is curled into the fetal position on the floor. Her arms shield her face. Blood speckles the tile around her head and the white sleeves of her otherwise spotless sweater.

The arms aren't dragging you anymore. They push you forward. Help you stand. You're wobbly. Is there something wrong with your legs? You look down to check, and see red on your knuckles.

Oh, fuck.

All of the noise comes rushing at you at once. People are yelling. Kimmy is screaming. You look around the room. The desks near Kimmy are vacant; there's a huddle of students who'd vacated them in the back. People on the far side of the room are standing on chairs and desks for a better view. You try to turn, and the arms holding you give you enough slack to move, but not to be free.

You turn and stare into Eddie's wide eyes.

You feel the adrenaline drain from your body, and suddenly find it hard to breathe.

"OUT! NOW!" Eddie's teacher screams. She points to the door with her classroom phone. Probably calling for help. The cord bounces on the desk.

Eddie drags you from the room without a word. You stumble, but don't fight him. He pulls you into the bathroom around the corner and spins you around to face him.

His hands hold your shoulders. You stare at the Hellfire logo on his shirt and try to focus on breathing. Why is it so hard? Eddie's hands cup your face and lift your chin so you have to look at him.

"What the fuck just happened?" he asks. And then you remember.

A sob escapes from your throat, and he pulls you close. You wrap your arms around him and cry into his shirt. What have you done?

Eddie holds you and absentmindedly rubs your back for a while, until you're able to choke out: "It's not fair."

"What's not fair?"

"The way people fucking treat you."

"What do you mean?" he mumbles against your temple.

You look up through teary eyes and reach for his hair. You pull the matted pile containing gum outward and nod toward the mirror. He glances toward his reflection, and then back to you.

"You tried to kill a girl for putting gum in my hair?"

"I wasn't trying to kill her," you whisper. "Just wanted to smack her around a little… I think?"

Eddie snorts, and pulls you back into his chest.

"It's not fair," you repeat.

"I'm used to it," he says quietly, hands drifting up and down your back. You melt into him and sniffle.

"You shouldn't have to be."

He kisses the top of your head. He may have accepted his fate as the freak everyone loves to hate, but that doesn't mean you're done fighting for him.

"Bet those bitches'll think twice about sticking gum in your hair again," you mumble into his chest. Eddie chuckles, and you hold him tighter.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you, too."

You look up at him and wonder how anyone could be so cruel to someone like Eddie Munson. Why are you the only person who can see how amazing he is?

"YOU TWO."

You whirl around and see Principal Higgins standing in the doorway of the bathroom. You fight the urge to shrink into Eddie's side.

"My office. Now."

You scored a 5-day vacation and 2 weeks of detention.

But you never had to extract gum from Eddie Munson's hair ever again.

(Well, aside from the time he laughed so hard, he spat his own gum into his hair. He's so talented. Dreamy sigh.)

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witch-of-sadness · 1 month

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I Touched Banana Bubblicious For You Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Some dickhead stuck a wad of gum in Eddie's hair, and you get the honor of removing it. Contains: The ol' gum-in-the-hair bit, Eddie in distress, Evil Woman making sure it ends in fluff. Words: 900ish

"Hey!" you announce your presence before stepping up next to Eddie, who's busy trying to prevent an avalanche among the mess in his locker. He doesn't like surprises at school, for obvious reasons.

"What's in your… oh."

"What?" he asks, looking down at you.

You give him a half-hearted smile. It's gum. Of course it's gum. Jocks are not exactly known for their creativity. You wonder who's responsible this time, and how long it's been in there.

"Nothing. You coming over today?"

He shrugs. "You want me to?"

"Don't I always?"

He smirks, zips his backpack, and slams his locker.

"Let's roll."

He drapes an arm across your shoulders and heads toward the exit. You can hear people snickering at him as you pass, but pretend not to notice. No sense in pointing it out now; he'll just get mad and lash out at the first person who looks at him wrong. Better to just get him home and take care of it. You know the drill.

When you get to your house and dump your backpacks by the kitchen table, you ask, "hungry?"

"Always."

"What are you in the mood for?" Maybe a snack will distract him while you work your magic.

"You."

You roll your eyes, knowing you walked right into that one. First things first, then. You grab a glass and pop a few ice cubes into it, turning to him with an apologetic smile.

"What?" he asks… then he takes in the look on your face and the glass in your hand. His eyes narrow, his face begins to turn red, and he kicks his backpack across the kitchen floor. It slides into the hallway and hits the wall. "Every fucking week with this shit!"

"Eds, it's not that bad, I'll take care of it."

"You shouldn't fucking have to!"

"I know, baby," you say gently. "But I will. C'mon."

He stands there shaking for a moment, face redder than the tomatoes on the counter. You wait patiently, not wanting to push him. Finally, he loses the battle he's having inside and stomps off to your room. You usually take him in there to perform this little ritual in private. There's no one home today, but it's happened so many fucking times, it's become routine.

You follow slowly and find him sitting at the old vanity table you use as a desk, leaned back with his arms crossed, glaring at the papers scattered across it. You set down the glass of ice and begin gently separating the gummy spot from the rest of his hair without a word. You don't look at him until the ice is in place, freezing the glob of bubblegum and taking away its sticky power.

His rage has turned to misery. You wish you knew who kept doing this to him, because you'd happily give 'em an old-fashioned curb stomping. Have fun chewing gum with no teeth, asshole.

Pulling the ice away and testing the gum, you find that it's hardened enough to have lost its stickiness. You begin pulling the hair away, one strand at a time, trying your best not to cause him any more pain today.

The process takes less than ten minutes, and he only loses two strands of hair this time. A significant improvement over the first time you did this for him. You drop the gum into your wastebasket, wipe your hands on your jeans, and look at his reflection in the mirror. Your heart grows heavier at the sight of the anguish on his face.

You brush his hair off the side of his neck and bend over to place a gentle kiss on it. Sensing that your boy needs a little more lovin' today, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and rest your chin there before making eye contact in the mirror. If he wasn't so sad, this would make a great picture; you've lined each edge of the mirror with photographic evidence of the goofiness that usually dominates this relationship. You're literally framed by happy memories.

"I love you," you say softly.

"I love you too," he whispers back, hands coming up to grasp the arms you've wrapped around him. Your heart can't take the sadness in his eyes much longer.

"You better," you begin in a playful tone. "I touched banana Bubblicious for you." A grin begins to grow on his face.

You decide to help it along by turning your head and blowing a very wet raspberry on his neck. He yelps and scrunches his nose and tries to squirm away from you, but it's hopeless; you still have your arms around him. He's trapped. (It helps that he's not putting up much of a fight.)

"Where do you think you're going? I'm not done with you yet!" You threaten with a laugh and go back in for another raspberry, but his hair has gone wild again during the escape attempt. You come up with a mouth full of Munson mane.

You dramatically try to blow the hair out of your mouth without releasing your hold on him, and he cackles. He leans back into you and laughs, watching you struggle with a mouth full of his hair in the mirror. All those happy photos seem to be laughing with you now.

You'd do anything for Eddie Munson. Even touch a rancid yellow glob of banana-flavored bubble gum.

Those douchebags really have no taste at all.

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witch-of-sadness · 1 month

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thinking about the way Eddie scrunch his nose when he's angry

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witch-of-sadness · 1 month

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The Breakfast Club Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: It's 1985, and it seems like the entirety of Hawkins High is obsessed with The Breakfast Club. Evil Woman drags Eddie to the theater to see what all the fuss is about. Contains: A movie date, a lot of mocking, consequences. Words: 400ish

Note: I don't really care for The Breakfast Club, but today's the 40th anniversary of The Saturday Detention, so I decided to do a rewatch… and instead of paying attention, this happened. Sorry/you're welcome.

"Let's go see The Breakfast Club," you'd said. "I wanna see what all the hype is about," you'd said. People at school would not stop talking about it. You felt like you were missing out on a cultural phenomenon or something. Why was this movie so special?

And so you'd convinced Eddie to come with you a matinee showing. It was… not what you expected. You don't know if he'd expected anything at all, other than a little lovin' later on as payment for going to see a movie he had no interest in.

You sat there silently until the triumphant fist-in-the-air faded to black and the lights of the theater came back on.

Eddie held out his hand, palm-up, and you slid yours into it. Fingers interlocked. You each heaved a sigh and left the seats you'd been occupying for over an hour and a half.

You dumped your empty candy boxes in a nearby trash can and kept walking. You both raised your free hands to shield your eyes when you transitioned from the dark hallway to the bright lobby. You walked slowly and silently out of the theater, as if in a daze. Eddie unlocked your door and let you into the van, then crossed around the front to get in the driver's side.

He put the key in the ignition, but didn't start the engine.

You sat back in your seats and turned your heads toward each other at the same time, slow and unsure. He licked his lips, trying to find his words. You couldn't find yours either.

"What the fuck did we just watch?" he finally asked.

You both burst into laughter.

"But Eddie, we can all get along if we just dance together to inspiring pop music!" you said with mock-enthusiasm.

"Cheerleaders and burnouts are totally compatible!" Eddie cackled.

"You, too, can snag the boy of your dreams if you just change your entire appearance!" You pulled your collar aside to show a bit of skin. Eddie waggled his eyebrows.

"Can you do that lipstick thing?" he asked.

"Maybe," you winked. "Love how the nerd gets stuck doing the essay while everybody else is hooking up."

"Bender was kind of a badass though," Eddie argued… hesitantly.

"Would you share your doobage with the jocks?" you asked.

Eddie snorted and started the van.

"We're going to Family Video," he informed you. "We're gonna have to do an all-night monster-arathon to undo this damage. I'm picking the movies, and I don't want to hear any complaints. You've lost your movie-picking privileges for the rest of the month."

"Yes, dear," you laughed.

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witch-of-sadness · 1 month

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Boys Are Idiots Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Evil Woman gets partnered up with Steve Harrington for a science project. Which means she has to TALK to him? And be NEAR him? Eddie Munson is NOT a fan. Contains: Jealous Eddie, Oblivious Steve, Annoyed Evil Woman, Terrified Hellfire. Words: 1.6k

"Alright, see ya," you say with an awkward smile, going the opposite direction of your new project partner outside the classroom door.

You head for your locker, spin the dial, and pop it open. A Polaroid of you and Eddie falls out. You scramble to pick it up off the floor before someone can step on it and ruin his pretty face. When you stand upright, the boy himself is in front of you… but he's not looking as happy as he is in the picture you've just rescued.

"Why were you talking to Steve Harrington?"

"And hello to you too, Edward," you say brightly. "Hold this." You hand him the picture and start searching your backpack for tape. "We're doing a science project together."

"Why?"

"Because he's smart and popular and I thought maybe some of his extreme coolness would rub off on me," you deadpan.

You take the picture from Eddie and tape it back where it belongs, on the inside of your locker door, and glance at him. He is not happy.

"Or because we got randomly paired up, take your pick."

Eddie crosses his arms and leans against the wall of lockers as you swap out books for your next class. You're not sure why this bothers him so much, but you see a storm brewing on his face.

"We're just partners in a high school science class, we're not engaged, calm down."

He rolls his eyes, and you slam the door.

"K, gotta go, see you at lunch," you say quickly while leaning over for a peck. Your lips meet his, and the issue is forgotten.

Until the next morning, in the parking lot where you always loiter by Eddie's van until the bell, when Steve Harrington gives you a little wave on his way inside. You return it - just a single wave and a half-hearted smile to your classmate and his girlfriend - and Eddie turns to see who you're waving at. His body tenses.

"Relax," you grumble, giving him a playful shove. It catches him off-guard, and he bounces against the side of his van before stabilizing himself.

"He's an asshole," he says simply.

"He's been nothing but nice to me," you counter.

"He's just another rich prick who thinks he's hot shit because he gets to drive Daddy's BMW around town."

"I'm sorry it's not as cool as your trash-filled van," you tease. Eddie's face turns red. That may not have been as funny as you intended. You wrap your arms around his waist and look up mischievously, in hopes of de-escalating your insult. "But I bet him and Wheeler couldn't achieve what we did in here last weekend, in that puny little thing."

Eddie smirks at the memory. Saved by the--

The bell rings. You peck Eddie's cheek and drag him into the building, and that's that.

Until you're spotted talking to Steve on your way out of science class a few hours later. Eddie is waiting at your locker when you get there, glowering in Steve's direction.

You roll your eyes and spin the combination dial on your locker. This is getting old.

"Can you not be a dick, please?"

"How am I being a dick?"

"You know exactly how you're being a dick." You trade out your books with a little more force than necessary. "Now quit. It's not cute."

"It's not cute that Harrington's trying to make a move on somebody that doesn't belong to him."

You turn to him with raised eyebrows and bubbling rage.

"Oh, I belong to you now? Am I your property? Do you have papers confirming your alleged ownership?"

Eddie doesn't respond, so you slam your locker door and head to your next class without looking back.

He's still tense at lunch, but he didn't hide out in the woods to avoid you, so he must not be too upset.

Until you have to break it to him that you and Steve need to hit the library this evening.

"Wanna stop by Family Video on the way home?" Eddie asks, sliding his bag of pretzels toward you. A peace offering.

"Uh… can't today," you smile apologetically as you take a pretzel. "I have to go to the public library."

"Okay," he crunches… suspiciously. "Want me to drive you?"

The boys start to protest, because this change will surely impact their afternoon plans, but Eddie silences them with a wave of his hand and awaits your answer.

"Uh…" you nibble a side off the pretzel. "I'm going with Steve, actually."

His face hardens.

"Don't start," you ask of him. "It's just a stupid science project. I would much rather be watching movies with you, than scouring encyclopedias and cutting construction paper with him."

"I bet that's not what he wants," Eddie scoffs.

"Seriously?" you ask. Are you really doing this? Eddie fixes you with his best glare, and you instinctively match it. You're doing this. "He's with Nancy. I'm with you. And up until very recently, I was quite happy with that arrangement."

Eddie seethes. You finally break eye contact and turn back to your lunch, although you've lost your appetite. Is this about Steve making a move, or Eddie not trusting you?

"What are you even doing with him in the public library that can't be done here?" The way he says it makes you clench your fists.

"You caught me, Eddie. We're actually going to his house to test the effectiveness of various condom brands. Wanna come watch?"

A hush falls over the Hellfire table. You and Eddie glare at each other. And then, in the blink of an eye, he's out of his chair and storming through the cafeteria doors. You close your eyes and breathe out heavily, trying to calm yourself. When you open them again, the whole table is staring at you.

"Shut up," you snap at no one in particular, and begin cramming your - and Eddie's - stuff into your respective backpacks. He'd left everything behind; his lunchbox, his backpack, his jacket.

Loaded down with an overfilled backpack on each shoulder, you head toward the door without another word. You could've sworn you heard somebody mumble "I hate it when Mommy and Daddy fight" behind your back, but you don't have time to murder anyone today, so you decide to let it slide. For now.

You have a list of places you plan on looking for him, but he's at your first stop: the van, in its usual spot in the back parking lot. He's perched on the bumper, facing the road; cheeks red, arms crossed, glaring at the ground. You reach into the pocket of the jacket that he'd left behind.

"Forget something?" you tease, jingling his keys to get his attention.

"Fuck you," Eddie grumbles without even looking up.

You're not mad. You don't have a snarky response. You just want things to be okay. You wish you hadn't teased him about Steve Harrington. You wish you'd never been partnered up with him. You wish you didn't even know his stupid rich-boy name.

"I'm sorry."

He glances at you, then drops his gaze back to the ground.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," you clarify. You let the backpacks slide onto the pavement. "Not a fan of this jealousy thing, Eddie."

You put his keys back in his jacket pocket and hold it out to him, but he doesn't take it. You take a cautious step closer, drape it over his shoulders, and retreat.

"You've gotta stop acting like I'm gonna leave you for the first jock that learns my name."

"Everybody else would," he mumbles at the ground.

"Everybody else is a cunt."

He smirks a tiny smirk, and finally looks up at you.

"Really, though," you assure him as you take a step closer. "You've got nothing to worry about. With him, or with anybody." You take another step toward him, and he parts his legs so you can stand between them. You close the distance. You're so close you can feel the heat radiating off his body. You want desperately to wrap your arms around him, but you hold back. Not yet. "Why would I want a Steve Harrington when I've got an Eddie Munson?" You cup his face with your hands, and his eyes close.

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. You have nothing to worry about. Say it with me." You squish his cheeks together.

"I've got nothing to worry about," he mumbles with you, through his squished cheeks.

"Good boy," you praise, leaning down to peck his still-puckered lips. When you stand, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hold him close. He buries his face in your chest, but doesn't hug you back.

"You still mad?" you ask, stroking his hair. One day, you'd probably laugh about the condom comment. Today was not that day.

"Not at my girls," he mumbles into your breasts.

"What about the rest of me?"

He shrugs.

You reach for his hands and bring one to rest on each of your back pockets. "How 'bout now?"

"Hmmm…" he hums into your chest, thinking about it. He gives your ass a squeeze, then he lifts his hands and smacks you on both sides. "Yes."

"What can I do to make it up to you?" you smile, knowing he's almost over it.

"Tell me you want me," he mumbles.

"Of course I want you, you idiot."

He looks up at you and bats those beautiful eyelashes. "Only me?"

"Only you." You kiss the top of his head, then move to sit on the bumper beside him. "I don't want any of those idiots. You're my idiot, and I'm keeping you."

"What if you find someone who's not an idiot?" he asks quietly.

"Impossible," you grin. "All boys are idiots."

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