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iamaslutforcoffee · 1 year

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR SIXTEEN

in which you and eddie take some time to figure each other out in the afterglow of honesty.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 2.7k+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

16:00 ──────────ㅇ──────── 24:00

HOUR SIXTEEN - 7:00 AM

Eddie’s favorite color is red. He likes his coffee with an obscene amount of sugar and creamer, which always leads to a regrettable stomach ache. He learned to play guitar on an acoustic six string handed down to him by his uncle, and he’s completely self taught beyond what his uncle taught him about basic notes. And his uncle’s name is Wayne. He refers to the man that raised him as Uncle Wayne.

Honesty turns out to be quite the beautiful thing in the morning light, and for the first time, you feel as though you’re truly getting to know Eddie.

It’s a give and take, an even exchange of bits and pieces of each other that are handed over without much thought. You finally have a clearer picture of the man you’ve spent the last fifteen hours straight with. A full photograph in time of who he is, who he really is, in a way that you wouldn’t have been able to fathom a week before. And it’s ironic, looking back on your relationship’s progression with him, the way you two keep skipping over steps before retracing to what was missed. How ironic you’ve let him see you at your most primal and vulnerable, but you’ve just learned his favorite color.

Eddie Munson isn’t a dick. He’s kind, he’s a huge goddamn nerd, he can be funny sometimes, his favorite color is red, but he isn’t a dick as you’ve been led to believe he was this last year.

Well, maybe led isn’t the right word. Everyone told you he wasn’t a dick. You just never listened.

Eddie’s just revealed his favorite movie genre as horror when you’re leaning forward, elbows pressing into your thighs as you ask him with a grin, “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Very funny reference,” he deadpans, barely keeping his face straight as he jokingly narrows his eyes, “Especially considering it’s the Scream franchise.”

You still haven’t brought up that question of why exactly he fought for your honor after that fight. His grand reveal left you with more confusion than you ever could have anticipated, and more than this fragile friendship could handle this early in the morning. So you’d buried it down, somewhere deep inside, for the sake of the friendship.

“You can’t just say an entire franchise. Pick a favorite one, idiot.”

Friendship. Was that what this was? When was the last time one of your friends had seen you naked, or ate you out atop a kitchen counter?

“The first one. You can’t beat the classic.”

You fight your smile in a similar fashion that he is. Mirroring joy, mirroring surprise, “You’re definitely only saying that for the whole homoerotic friendship between Stu and Billy.”

“Oh, I definitely am,” he doesn’t even try to deny it as he cracks and laughs softly, “What about you?”

Even after nearly an hour of doing this, going back and forth and learning about each other, the novelty of Eddie genuinely asking you things about yourself hasn’t worn off. The curiosity that lights in his eyes, the way he leans into you to hear each word clearly – it makes you question if this was the same man who had once been so cruel.

“My favorite scary movie? I… don’t have one,” you lean back into your chair, a small huff of air escaping you from impact.

There’s two mugs of coffee on the small garden table between your chairs, having gone cold long since Eddie retrieved them for the two of you. That had been when he’d earnestly told you about his coffee preference – he’d been sweetly shy about the ordeal, bashful as he looked down at the mugs and informed you he’d tried to only put a normal amount of cream in yours, only a little bit of sugar. It had been so endearing, the way that when you asked what he meant by normal and he’d only murmured his confession of how he took his morning caffeine over the mug’s lip, you nearly caved into yourself.

“That’s impossible. No way. Absolutely not,” Eddie is animated as he waves his hands around wildly in front of him, shaking his head furiously at your answer, “I refuse to believe you don’t have a favorite scary movie, especially considering you quoted an iconic franchise. If you can quote Scream, you can tell me what your favorite is-”

You interrupt him with laughter, scrunching up your face, “Okay, first of all- Eddie, hey,” he’s still rambling, still being terribly dramatic in the flailing of his arms, so you reach over to grip the forearm closest to you. All his movements immediately cease as his eyes widen, staring directly at you in an oddity of shock, “First of all, it’s just common knowledge of pop culture. I’ve never even seen those movies,” you’re not sure if Eddie is breathing as your hand remains still tightly clasped against his forearm, and you’re not sure why he wouldn’t be, “Second of all, I’m a wimp. Scary movies might be my least favorite kind of movie, right behind apocalyptic action movies.”

When he takes a sudden deep breath, you realize he had been holding his breath, “Apocalyptic action movies?”

You begin to explain, to list examples, and you never once take your hand off his arms. You rattle off a list – 2012, The Day After Tomorrow, San Andrea’s Fault, etc. – all the while feeling his pulse race beneath his warm skin. All the while selfishly enjoying the contact, wondering how long it might take staying like this before your fingertips would mold to him. Maybe they’d eventually melt into his arm, skin molten together so that where he ends and where you begin is impossible to distinguish. A closeness with him that you had never craved so ardently before tonight, before today.

“So, doomsday movies,” he hums after you give your examples. If you were smart, you’d let go of him. It’s been too long for the contact to be brushed off as normal, “Does that mean you also hate zombie movies?”

“Nope. Those are an entirely different thing.”

“I wouldn’t say they’re entirely different.”

“They are. They’re completely unrealistic! San Andrea’s Fault… sort of… well, it could happen.”

“They’re not completely unrealistic. Some of them almost have, like, legit science behind them.”

You hadn’t even noticed that he scooted his chair closer. Or the slip of his arm in your loosening grasp, leading your hand until it rests against his wrist, so close to holding onto his own hand that rests palm up against his thigh in wait.

An offering.

“There is no logical way that one day, our world is going to turn into a real-life Walking Dead situation,” you say, trying to steady your breathing.

You won’t make the first move.

He’s leading this moment. If he wants to hold your hand, then he can take that final leap of faith.

“Have you actually seen The Walking Dead, or are you just blindly making pop culture references again?”

You can feel the thrill of his heartbeat pick up in the center of his wrist before he does it. With subtle movements, his wrist slips between your fingertips.

Only for them to be recaptured by his own knuckles. The dust settles. The warmth spreads. Your palm is pressed to his palm, your fingers interlocked between his fingers.

“I have seen that one,” you tell him quietly, looking down at your conjoined hands. His eyes are also downcast to them. The tendon in his wrist flexes as he tightens his grip on your hand, the small squeeze becoming more sure. It’s not an accident; this was never an accident.

It’s in the hair you notice on his forearm, wispy and blonde and almost comical in contrast to the dark curls that grow from his scalp. A layer of fuzz that covers alabaster skin dotted in rare and faded freckles, nearly invisible unless you look closely enough. You can see the tan line across his wrist from where he would normally wear a watch. If you follow the details further up his arm, away from the wrist now awkwardly pressed against yours in a twist, you can see the faded blue-black ink of his tattoos. That flock of bats, the most faded of his numerous additions to his skin, taunts you. You’ve already known him up close and personal in the last few hours, felt him flush against you and memorized the way his body was capable of pressing into yours, but it’s in these details that the ache arises. The sadness that you’ve never known him quite this personally before this moment, and the fear that you never will again.

An ache all because he’s let you close enough to learn the details of his skin – what a marvelous thing.

“That’s a miracle,” he mutters, fully entranced as he rubs the pad of his thumb across the top of your fingers. You’re quick to return the motion; his knuckles are far more rough than yours, and you try to count the groves in them, from long weeks no doubt, all in that brief swipe, “Or else I would have had to have insisted upon ending this lovely honesty hour, and subjecting you to a marathon.”

“We can still have a marathon.”

You’d do just about anything to remain in this position, to stay this impossibly close to him. You’re selfish and you’re clingy, squeezing his hand a little bit tighter as he had done to you, as if the grip on it reflects your grip on the moment. You can’t let it go – you can’t let him go.

No matter how you have had him, no matter how long he sits in this golden hour with his hand in yours, it will never be enough. This sudden and abruptly-arriving ache is incurable.

You want him, you need him, you bloom for him.

There’s something in his smirk as he awkwardly uses his freehand to bring his mug of too-sweet coffee to his lips that almost whispers that there’s a chance: he also wants you, he also needs you, he also blooms for you.

And so you tell him about yourself in turn. You don’t just stop at your distaste for horror or your fear of doomsday movies. You tell him how you don’t have a favorite color, how you switch it up too often and all he can do is chuckle at your indecisiveness. Once, an insecurity – now something silly to find amusement in at his side. You reveal to him your coffee preference; you take it with a normal amount of cream and just a little bit of sugar. You don’t reveal to him that before today, you’d always turned your nose up to hot coffee, an iced coffee connoisseur. Something in the sparkle of his eyes warns that he might already know. You don’t play any instruments, but you have a list of songs for him to learn, insisting that someday he’d have to play them for you on that guitar his Uncle Wayne gave him. (You can’t think too much on the way you’re once more speaking in some days with him. Your heart might burst if you do.)

You try to bare your soul, to stare down the barrel of honesty, just as he had. It’s scarier than you could have imagined. Finally, after fifteen hours, you get it.

You get it, and it only makes you squeeze his hand tighter.

At some point, he notices the way the sun is warming both of you with each passing minute, palms now sweaty against each other as he asks, “Do you want to go back inside?”

No. I want to live in this moment for the rest of my days. “We can if you want to.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Tell me what you want. You constantly do that with everyone else, you know. Let them make the decisions,” he’s smiling softly, eyes squinted against the sun now rising high in the sky, “I can’t even count the amount of times you’ve said that to Nancy on both hands. Which, I mean, awesome – Nance fuckin’ loves being the decision-maker. But we’re talking about me. You’ve never been shy about butting heads with me.”

You raise your eyebrows, “Quite the sudden high horse, Mr. Honesty.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “Well, it’s honesty hour. So, here’s more honesty – I love when you give me a run for my money. Who else is going to tell me to shut the fuck up when I’m on track to ramble for hours about Lord of the Rings?”

“You want to talk honesty? I would only tell you to shut up because I might have blown my cover and you’d realize I actually enjoyed your company.”

The soft smile widens, more shameless and more radiant, “Coulda fooled me.”

“I did fool you,” you tease, and your hand slips from his, but the warmth left behind doesn’t. It’s buried deep in your bones now.

Things will never return to normal, not for you. It isn’t a bad thing – it’s only a sure thing.

“For what it’s worth…” he pauses, that smile faltering. “I enjoyed your company far more than I ever let on, too.”

Is that why you fought for me, after fighting against me?

He doesn’t let you reply, instead smacking both of his now free palms against his thighs as he moves to stand, “Anyways, I actually do happen to want to go inside,” he gestures to those faded swirls of tattoos across his biceps and forearms, “I don’t expose myself to too much sun for obvious reasons.”

“Reasons being you’re a vampire?” you tease.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpans, “Yes, it’s definitely because I’m a vampire and not because of these sick tatties.”

“Calling those abominations sick is pushing it,” you playfully counter as you scoot to the edge of the seat of the chair, unsticking your thighs from plastic, “And I knew it. Your skin is practically glittering like diamonds, Edward.”

He scowls. “So Twilight is off the marathon line up.”

He sticks out a hand, the same one you had clung to for most of your conversation with each other. You don’t take it immediately.

“There’s going to be a marathon?”

“You’ve got something better to do?”

The thought of cuddling up with him on the couch has your heart pounding. Honestly, the couch would now remain tainted for the rest of your days. You might even continue to avoid showing up to his apartment just to avoid flushing red any time you see one of your friends take a seat on the spot he once took you on, had pressed into you as your knees had dug into those cushions, as you had moaned his na-

You had to stop thinking about it before he noticed your thighs pressing together tightly.

“For the record,” he says, hand still extended, unwavering as the sun forms an aura of gold around his outline, “Honesty hour doesn’t have to end when we go inside. From here on out, I actually insist that it be on the table. One of the perks of being my friend, I suppose.”

Those are the magic words. You don’t need to immediately know why he fought for you, or why he really led you to believe he hated you for so long. You don’t need to know why he kissed you and you don’t need to know why he’d changed his tune so suddenly the first night you two met. All you needed to know was that if you wanted to know, if you ever find the guts to ask him about these things, he would tell you.

You reach out and take his hand.

Immediately, he pulls you comically hard out of your chair. When you fumble directly into his chest, he’s already chuckling and wrapping his arms around your waist to steady you.

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble, pulling back and glaring up at him without any true venom, “Eager much?”

“Very,” he boyishly grins down at you and your heart skips a beat.

Eagerly, wildly, suddenly, comfortingly – he now occupies a space in your brain you weren’t aware existed. It almost whispers I was always here, always waiting for him.

The two of you don’t waste any time as he tugs you inside, the promise of a movie marathon awaiting the two of you.

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iamaslutforcoffee · 1 year

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unfinished business | chapter one

eddie munson x fem!reader

story summary: You never meant to hurt your best friend, but the day you left Hawkins is the day you left with his heart crushed in your hands. Now you’re back eight years later, ready to make amends with your past, face the boy you hurt, the boy you’ve always loved, and make things right. And lucky for you, you found a place to rent on short notice. Unlucky for you, that means having a roommate…A roommate whose heart you broke eight years ago.

story content (NSFW): 18+ for eventual smut, friends to lovers, angst, grief, death of a loved one, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, flirting, drug/alcohol use, smoking, deceit (if you squint), modern au

chapter: 1/? [wc: 3.5k]

EIGHT YEARS BEFORE

“So this is goodbye then?"

Five words uttered by your best friend. Five words that flayed your heart. It was the morning after your grandmother’s funeral—the woman who had raised you since you were eight years old—and you and Eddie had spent your last night in Hawkins lying in his bed, your favorite record on repeat, savoring each other’s company for as long as possible while silently and painfully counting down the hours until it was time to say goodbye.

“I don’t want it to be,” you said, trying to placate the tears welling up in your eyes by distracting yourself with Eddie’s guitar pick necklace. You twisted it, running the beaded chain between delicate fingers, remembering how many times he’s gotten it tangled in the zipper of his leather jacket and would run to you to help unravel him.

Too many times, you counted. But now that you were leaving, it didn’t feel like enough. The eight years you had known him—had spent with him attached at the hip—just didn’t feel like enough. It never felt like enough.

He grabbed your hand and held it to his chest. You could feel the beat of his heart beneath your palm—it was slow, rhythmic, a comfort you would soon bereave. But you let yourself cherish it, relished in its solace, and hoped if you absorbed just enough of it, then perhaps it would ease some of the pain tormenting your heart.

“Then stay,” he said, a softness to his voice you had never known before.

You frowned. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Eddie.” You sighed and placed your other hand on his chest. Your eyes met his—warm brown, long-lashed, and beautiful as always. You always got lost in them, and when you found your self slipping from your thoughts, you looked away. “I can’t. You know I can’t. Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

He was holding both of your hands now, squeezing them, pulling you impossibly close, scared that if he let you go, he would never see you again. “I’m losing my best friend.”

“You’re not losing me, Ed’s. That’s impossible.”

Eddie shook his head, his head full of curls, not quite shoulder length yet but as wild as ever, swaying to emphasize his protest. “Talking on the phone isn’t the same as you being here and you know that. Who am I supposed to go to the movies with, play new music for, plan campaigns with, get high as shit and watch The Twilight Zone with? I mean, we’re almost halfway through Return of The King. Don’t you want to know if Frodo and Sam make it up Mount Doom and destroy the ring and defeat Sauron?”

“I already know how Return of The King ends. We’ve read it like a million times. We’ve read all the books a million times. Seen the movies a million times too.”

He gave you that infamous look of his: chin down, eyebrows raised, lips puckered disapprovingly. You knew what he was alluding to. It was a silent reminder of what you both had agreed on years ago. After you had read The Hobbit and The Lord of The Rings trilogy in their entirety, you would re-experience the lore from the beginning, pretending as if you were acquainted with Bilbo, Frodo, Gandalf, Pippin, the Shire, and the rest of the fantastical world for the first time. It was Eddie’s idea, and you would never forget how his face lit up when you agreed—that big toothy grin, eyes twinkling like stars cushioned in night's dark sky. It was a smile reserved for you and only you. You’d do anything to see that smile just one more time.

“Look, I hate this as much as you do, but I have to go,” you said gently. “You have other friends and—”

“But they’re not you.”

You looked up at him and caught a glimpse of the vulnerable eight-year-old boy you had met on the hot summer day you moved into the trailer next door with your grandmother. He had been sitting on his steps, face a brilliant shade of red from crying, and you had gone over to him, propelled and unashamed by your own grief, and asked if he wanted to play. He had looked at you, eyes puffy and bloodshot, wide with surprise, and wiped his nose on his Star Trek t-shirt.

“Do you like hide and seek?” you had said, bouncing on your feet.

He nodded his head. His hair had been shorter then. Not yet buzzed like the way he wore it in middle school, but long enough it covered the tips of his ears.

You beamed at his response and extended your hand out, wiggling your fingers. “I can count and you can hide. Come on!”

Hesitantly, Eddie grabbed your hand and the two of you ran off, your pigtails swaying in the wind, giggles of pure bliss pealing throughout the trailer park. Eddie’s slender legs (entirely too long for his body) trailed behind you, nearly tripping over himself, and he’d been out of breath by the time you had reached your destination. The patch of woods behind his trailer.

“I’ll count to ten,” you said and turned to face a tree, humming. “And you can’t hide inside. That’s cheating and cheaters are wieners!”

A smile stretched across Eddie’s face. It had been the first genuine smile he had in months, and it was all because of you. The two of you played until sunset—only stopping to eat the lunch your grandmother made—played until you were covered in dirt and sweat, and unfortunately for you, tears.

It was dark and it was your turn to hide. You had wandered too far and lost your way, terrifyingly so that left, right, and straight were all in the same direction. You had tripped over a pile of broken branches, earning yourself a nice, splintered gash across the palm of your hand, but you had been so concerned with finding Eddie you hadn’t noticed. Not until later, anyway.

Eddie had been frantic trying to find you when he heard you call out for him, the panic in your voice as clear as day, even with the restless buzzing of the cicadas. He had been walking in circles, saying the lord’s name in vain the same way his uncle had when Eddie was dropped off on his doorstep.

And when Eddie finally found you, you were crouched next to a tree, hugging your knees close to your chest, a mixture of tears and snot running down your ruddy face.

“Found you,” he said, panting like he had just run a marathon.

You jumped up and threw your arms around him. At first, he was confused by your embrace, keeping his arms tight by his sides, not used to such affection. The closest thing he got to it was when Wayne ruffled his hair in the mornings. A passive gesture, done without much thought. Nothing compared to the way you hugged him.

“I was so scared, Eddie,” you cried, drenching his shirt with your tears.

He looked down at you, his height giving him a view of the top of your head, unsure of what to do with himself. He clutched you awkwardly and your hair got stuck on his chapped lips as he opened his mouth to speak. His voice was low enough that you had to hold your breath to hear what he said. “We should go home. I don’t want my uncle getting mad.”

You nodded and pulled away, wiping your tears with your dirty fingertips, smudging more soot on your face. This time he grabbed your hand and led the way, your hand sticky in his from the bloody gash. It didn’t take you long to make it back, the outside light from your grandmother's trailer a guiding light to freedom. You were still trembling, completely exhausted, but happier now that Eddie was with you.

You were always happier when Eddie was around.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow? I can show you my comic book collection.” He kicked the dirt around his feet, punting a rock across the road and hitting a trashcan. “Bullseye,” he whispered to himself.

You smiled a toothless smile. “Sure.”

“Cool shit, see ya tomorrow.” He spun on his heel and ran back to his trailer like a bat out of hell, leaving you to scrunch your nose at the word shit. That was a grown up word, and you quickly learned that summer Eddie used lots of them, especially with very little caution. He’d gotten many warning smacks to the back of his head by Wayne, and you’d sit there giggling to yourself because that was just Eddie being Eddie.

Your Eddie.

The Eddie staring at you right now, eyes wet and glassy, reminiscent of that hot summer day you met him. Only this time, you were the cause of his tears, and it broke your heart knowing there was nothing you could do to fix it.

“It’s shit,” you whispered, not knowing what to say but wanting to hear his voice for as long as you still had him.

“Total shit,” he agreed.

“We won’t graduate together.”

“Your grandma couldn’t have waited until you were eighteen to die?” he grumbled.

You punched his chest using his hand (he still had you in his grip), your voice pitching a few octaves. “Eddie!”

“What? At least then you wouldn’t be forced to live with your aunt in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.”

You rolled your eyes. “We already live in bumfuck nowhere. And I’d hardly call New York bumfuck nowhere?”

“She lives in the mountains, not the city. It’s bumfuck nowhere,” he argued.

“It’s beautiful up there. You went with me one summer a few years ago. Don’t you remember?”

His cheeks flushed at one very specific memory. You both agreed to never speak of it again, but he figured he would give it a shot. He had nothing left to lose, only you, and you were already halfway out the door. He looked at you doubtful but holding onto hope. “Course I remember. How could I forget the summer we—”

“Don’t finish that sentence. Please.” You closed your eyes, recalling the memory, but keeping it distant. The way you always had. “We were kids.”

He bowed his head and sighed out his disappointment. “Right. Kids.”

A car horn blared outside, breaking the creeping tension in the room. It was your aunt signaling it was time to leave. A deep ache bloomed in your chest like a bruise, and an uproar of warmth flooded your throat, eyes swimming with tears. There was no escaping them now, no distracting from the inevitable tear fest you would endure after walking out the door.

“I guess it’s time for me to go,” you said, letting out a breath in a cadence that was almost a sob.

He looked at you, helpless, trying to find the right words to say. But he knew there wasn’t a single sentence he could string together that would convince you to stay. He swiped away the tear curling down your cheek with his knuckle. “I don’t want it to be.”

“Me neither, Ed’s.”

“Call me when you get there?”

“I will. Promise,” you whispered.

“I don’t care what time it is," he said, and quickly added, "And promise to call me every day after that?"

You quirked an eyebrow, a brief smirk tugging on your lips. “Remember you said that, Munson. And, yes, I promise."

He laughed softly, a beautiful sound. Your hands suddenly felt cold, empty. Eddie had dropped them to unclasp his chain, gesturing for you to spin around with a twirl of his finger. You did, lifting your hair out of the way, and he adorned you with his favorite necklace, the guitar pick resting against your heart.

You fingered it and faced him, more tears spilling from your eyes. You hugged him and he held you in a tight embrace. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut to detain his emotion, but his voice betrayed him the second he spoke.

“I love you,” he said, taking one last leap of faith, voice weak and strained.

You pulled away. Your lips quivered into a smile. “Love you too, Ed’s.” The words came out with a casualness that tore open an old wound—the same wound Eddie had stitched up with shaky hands, having to always salve the pain when he was reminded you would only ever love him as a friend. Nothing more because Eddie knew deep down he would never be good enough for you.

He walked you to the door, holding it open. “Be safe.”

“Always,” you said and grabbed his hand, squeezing it one last time before leaving.

Eddie watched as you walked away with his heart clutched in your hand and waited until your aunts car disappeared before slamming the door. He started to sob so hard he could barely hold himself up. He felt like he was going to be sick. A strangled cry tore from his throat, his voice inflamed with pain as he struggled to catch his breath. Every desperate gulp of air burned his lungs like he was breathing in fire.

This was the first time he cried—really cried—since the day he found out his mom died. The same day you moved in. The day you approached him and asked to play. The day he found a reason to smile.

You were always his reason to smile.

But soon, you just became another painful memory.

xxx

PRESENT DAY

[ 1 NEW MESSAGE ]

2:43 pm - steve still on for 3:00?

2:47 pm - you yep. just leaving motel room now. be there in 10.

Eight years, that’s how long it’s been since you left Hawkins. The place you used to call home. The place where—despite the grief it had caused you—you had some of your happiest memories, memories you had kept like a secret within your heart, each beat a reminder of the person you created them with.

And now, driving through downtown Hawkins, leather sticking to your skin as you white-knuckled your steering wheel, passing store after store, memory after memory, you felt like an intruder, possessing memories you had stolen from someone more worthy than you.

But there was one memory you were deserving of, and it was a torment all of its own.

Your phone's GPS signaled you to make a left onto Elwood Avenue and that your destination was half a mile ahead on your right. Truthfully, you didn’t know what to expect when you made the plan to move back, however, you most certainly didn’t expect Steve Harrington to be the person you would be residing with for the foreseeable future when you answered his roommate ad online. Not that you minded. It was nice to be living with someone familiar, even if the two of you were no more than casual acquaintances, and that was pushing it. You ran with two different social crowds in your adolescent years. You the freaks and him the jocks. An inharmonious union. But those labels had long been stripped away, now enduring the horrors and responsibilities of being an adult instead of teenage angst.

Now there were eight years behind you, and you had felt the weight, like a burden, of your own selfishness, knowing it had costed you the best thing to ever happen to you.

You pulled up to a tan ranch-style house—a rustic and weathered charm you’d usually find in the countryside. An untamed garden of spring blossoms rose from the earth, their buds opened in salute to the sun, and two beach chairs sat beside each other on the lawn, right under a big oak tree.

Homey. Modest. Domestic. Hawkins.

Taking a deep breath, you left your car and traversed the path to the front porch, feet light as a feather as you approached the screen door. There was a brief moment of hesitation, a nervous bite, before you lifted your fist and placed three firm but gentle knocks against the door.

You waited, and when the door crept open, you swore you stopped breathing. Steve Harrington stood before you, very tall and handsome as ever, a charitable glint in his eyes he had only reserved for his girlfriends but now offered you. You flushed and tucked your hair behind your ears. You felt sixteen all over again.

“Hey, Steve,” you said, voice light and airy, how it always was when you so desperately tried to cover your nerves but failed.

“Shit, haven’t seen you since high school,” Steve said, reacquainting you with that silky smooth smile, and leaned against the door frame. “How’ve you been? You look good.”

You smiled softly, blushing under his flattery. You look good. Three words you never expected to hear from Steve Harrington, but they weren't unwanted. “I’m good. You, uh, you look good, too.”

He nodded. Casual. “So, what brings you back to this place? When most people leave Hawkins, they usually leave for good. You moved to New York, right?”

You shove your hands in the back pockets of your jeans and look down at the ground, swaying slightly. “Yeah, up in the Catskills with my aunt. I guess you could say some unfinished business brought me back. I’m just glad I was able to find a place to stay on such short notice. So thanks for that.”

"I should be thanking you, now I can forgo the vetting process of making sure you're not some psycho killer," he teased, eyes crinkling, voice dripping with levity.

You peer up at him through your lashes, smiling a little. “Well, I promise to be a good roommate. Quiet as a mouse, you won’t even know I’m around and—”

“Actually, about that," he started, a nervousness edging his voice. "I’m not gonna be the one you’re living with. I'm the one moving out.”

Your smiled dropped. “What?”

“Yeah, I, uh, me moving out was a last-minute thing, and I didn’t really give much of a heads up to my roommate, so I told him I would be the one to find him someone to split the rent with.”

"Why didn’t you just say that to begin with?”

He laughed without mirth, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “You see, that’s the thing, I was going to, but when I realized who you were, I knew you’d probably change your mind when you found out who your roommate was. I’m just kinda desperate at this point, and I really need you to be on board here, or else I’m fucked and—”

“Who’s my roommate, Steve.” It wasn’t a question but a demand.

He went silent, avoiding your searing gaze.

“Steve,” you pressed.

Just as Steve’s shoulders dropped, his lips parted with apprehension as he tried to find the right words, a voice that wasn’t his crept up and filled the billowing silence. The familiarity of it caused your heart to sucker punch your throat and make a ten-story drop into your stomach, sinking and sinking and sinking until your knees buckled and you had to clutch the railing to keep yourself steady.

Oh no.

And when Steve stepped out of the way to confirm your suspicions, you came face to face with the reason you came back to Hawkins.

The boys whose promise you broke.

The boy you always loved.

The boy whose heart you broke eight years ago.

"Eddie," you exhaled, your breath catching in your throat.

He looked at you, squaring his shoulders, spine stiffening with disdain, his likeness boring an authority you weren't familiar with. You watched as the muscle in his jaw flicked, the corners of his mouth twisting into a grimace at your very presence. It was clear you were not welcomed.

Gone was the vulnerable boy you once knew. A polished maturity graced him, bowed at his feet and honored his command. His curls were grown out, resting one his shoulders and framing the vein that twitched in his neck. His arms were inked with tattoos, a particular piece curving up the side of his throat, and oh, how you desperately wanted to reach out to him and trace every single one, to study the fine details with a delicate caress of your finger.

You wondered if there would ever come a time he would grant you that privilege.

His eyes studied you. You felt so small under his scrutiny. And when he finally spoke, it felt like he was throwing knives at your heart.

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here," he said. His voice was tight when he spoke, a stab of rejection in each word, the wound of your betrayal still fresh.

You winced and coiled in on yourself. "Yeah."

"Yeah? Eight years and yeah is all you have to say?" he scoffed, eyes wide with disbelief.

You approached him tentatively. "Eddie, please—"

"No, nope." He shook his head and stepped back. "I'm not interested in what you have to say."

Heat pricked your eyes, burned your face, swelled in your throat with everything you wanted to say but couldn't. So you stood there. Silent. Rejected. Ashamed.

"Fuck this." Eddie stormed past you, brushing your shoulder, and you watched as he got into his car and sped off, this time leaving with your heart in his hands.

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iamaslutforcoffee · 1 year

Text

babygirl is STRESSED to his limit

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iamaslutforcoffee · 1 year

Text

“Sweet girl.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: part two of “stay the night”.

warnings: mentions of abuse and scars, insecurities about said scars, mentions of unhealthy eating habits, language, stalking, anxiety, slight smut (sorry besties it’ll come i promise), suicidal thoughts and depression.

a/n: part three? ;)

You talked about everything and anything. The years past, the things you liked, disliked. Your favorite foods and colors. Music and tv shows. Anything you could think of. You spent a lot of time together. Three weeks had past since your first visit over there. It wasn’t so awkward anymore. And neither of you had established whether or not that you were together. All that you had done was kiss and nothing more, lots and lots kissing. Heavy make-outs that left both of you breathless.

Eddie had a lot of questions about your parents. Why did you continue to stay with them? Why you didn’t fight back and let them do the things they did to you. You made him promise not to step in. It wasn’t his business and it wasn’t his place. After hours of begging, he caved. He’d been drinking that night, upset about the situation. It was really like no time had passed. The pieces and puzzles had fallen back align in their original spots.

He’d missed you more than he’d realized, and you, him. He didn’t want to take anything past kissing, but he saw you as fragile. He wouldn’t say that to your face, but he could see just how frail you were. You weren’t healthy. He also didn’t feel comfortable asking questions in that sense. This was all still new, uncharted territory that just wasn’t ready to be crossed. It again, was not his place and was not the right time.

He’d almost caved and told Wayne about your parents, but he didn’t want to risk you finding out and jeopardize the newly found friendship. However, he knew he had to do something. He couldn’t not just let the abuse continue. Over the days, the welts on your back faded into light bruises and it became less irritated. He checked them every time he saw you to make sure they were healing right.

He was watching from afar, leaning against his van as he saw you exit the school. Hawkins high had been shook to it’s core about the news of you and Eddie’s reunion. Both you and him got questions on the daily. Hellfire club still didn’t believe, not really. People stared and whispered when you walked together. Jason glared and shouted unrepeatable things, encouraging Eddie to fight again, which ended up in another black eye.

“Hey,” He peeked down in his sunglasses, hiding his purple bruises. “How was the essay?”

You yawned tiredly with a smile. “Stressful. Just glad it’s over. We going to your place?”

He nodded, opening the door for you. You never hung out at your house. The idea haunted you. Your parents had been out of town since last week. It had felt like paradise on earth. Still, you didn’t want him at your house. “Pizza?” Eddie glanced over at you as he switched on the van.

You smiled and nodded gently, looking down to his hand as you put yours in his. He took it and gave it a squeeze, pulling out of the lot. It fit perfectly. It was rough and calloused, yet smooth and soft at the same time. The first time you asked to hold his hand he’d about fainted. You were out for a walk before the sunset when you’d asked. It took him an awkward minute before he said yes.

The things you both did with one another was gentle, careful and gracious. The time you spent together was cherished and treasured. It might not have seemed a lot to others, but to the both of you it meant the world.

•

Your bodies were melted together like candle wax, your torso’s flush against each other on the couch. He towered over you, lips slowly, deeply kissing yours with intense passion. They moved like warm water. Your noses pushed and pulled, breath hot above their your cupid’s bow. His hands held your face. They never went any further than that besides your back. He tilted his head to kiss you harder before he pulled away, leaving you breathless. He leaned his forehead atop of yours, panting. “Fuck,” You got him so hot, so hard.

You gulped, blinking your eyes as you caught your breath. Your body always responded when kissing him like this, but he always stopped before anything could be something. You tried not to let it bother you. You leaned up to kiss him again, but he backed away.

“What’s wrong?” You narrowed your brows.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, lifting himself off you. “Just..think we should stop.”

You sat up with him, fixing your hair awkwardly and adjusting your shirt. “You always think we should stop.”

Your words surprised him, making his eyes go wide and for him to stutter. “Well- I just..”

“No, it’s fine.” You brushed off. “I get it.”

The scars on your body were not pleasant to look at. Deep and full of gashes, red marks and bruises that just never seemed to go away. They were hard to look at, you know that. You had gotten used to them, but you knew for Eddie it had to have been hard. You didn’t blame him for not wanting to undress you.

“What?” He asked. “Get what?”

“My scars.” You licked your lips, looking at the floor. “I get..I mean, it’s fine, Eddie. I understand.”

He stared at the side of your face before shaking his head of curls. “No, no, Y/n, that’s not what I meant.”

“I told you, it’s fine, Eddie.” Your face burned.

“And I told you, that wasn’t what I meant.” He grabbed your hand, the other turning your cheek so you could see him. “I swear.”

He sighed heavily before leaning in to kiss you gently. “All I meant was that I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just don’t think you’re ready.” He pressed another kiss to your pink lips.

“Don’t you think I’m the one who decides when I’m ready?” You questioned, running a hand up from his knee to his thigh.

“Yeah,” He tried not to groan. “But I also think we should wait, and it’s not because of some scars,” He lifted your chin with his fingers, a cool ring on your jaw. “Your scars don’t scare me. They’re beautiful.”

You chuckled dryly. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“But I would.” He persisted. “I think they’re beautiful. Just like you. You are beautiful, whether or not you think it.” He gave you one firm kiss before standing, and you had to blink heavily to get rid of the wetness of your lashes.

“I’m gonna cook you dinner.” He opened the fridge.

“I’m not hungry.” You wiped your face. “And you don’t know how to cook.”

“I don’t care.” He dismissed. “I’ll try to cook and you’ll try to eat, yeah?” He gave you a look, making you blush.

You nodded, giving him a sweet smile.

You had opened up a little about your eating habits and what little they entailed. You opened up about a lot over the weeks. Your bad habits. Your good ones.

You had an intense desire to tell him you loved him.

•

There was a knock on his bedroom door that woke him up, a deep voice calling his name. Eddie glanced over at you, sound asleep, before lifting the sheet off himself. He squinted his eyes, revealing his uncle in the hallway light.

“Ed, I think we got a problem.” Wayne said quietly, looking exhausted himself. “She asleep?”

He nodded. “Yeah, Wayne, what is it?” He was in his boxers, shirtless, hair wild and matted from sleep. “What’s wrong?”

Wayne flexed his fingers for him to follow. Eddie shut the door door softly before following his uncle, anxiety brewing in his stomach. “Wayne, it’s four am what’s going on?”

Wayne stopped him right by the couch so he could peer out the window. “There’s a car out there. Been here for awhile.”

Eddie rubbed his eyes, lowering himself so he could see. “How long they been here?”

“Don’t know,” He shook his head. “It’s been twenty minutes since I saw them. You recognize the vehicle?”

Eddie examined it. He didn’t recognize it at all. It was tan, a ford ranger, it looked like. From the looks of it, it seemed to be 79’. Eddie was good with cars. “Nah. All the deals I’ve done lately gone good. Don’t think it would be any customers.”

Wayne ignored his nephews comments about his side hustle. He didn’t exactly approve of it. “Ed,” He closed the curtain, checking back at his room. “You think it might be her parents?”

Eddie’s heart dropped, his stomach sunk as his eyes tripled in size. “Oh, god, fuck.” He turned back to the window. “You think?”

“I don’t know,” The old man shook his head, checking to see if the door was locked. “Aren’t they out of town?”

“Well, yeah, but,” Eddie brought up a nail to bite, one of his bad habits. “Maybe, they lied! Maybe they came back early, I don’t know!”

“Calm down, Eddie.” Wayne put a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t wanna wake her. Last thing she needs is to think her parents are stalking her.”

Eddie looked physically stressed, running a hand over his face. “Okay, so what do we do?”

It took him a minute before he could respond. “I don’t think there’s really anything we can do. If we give any sort of reaction it’s just going to show that she’s been here. Have you noticed anyone following you? Think.”

“Uh,” Eddie wracked his brain, beginning to pace. “I don’t- I mean, I don’t think so! Wayne, we have to do something. She can’t go home if her parents know she’s been here!”

Wayne had been just as shocked as anyone else when his nephew had been bringing you home. He thought maybe it was just a one time hook up, but he could tell that Eddie was falling for you, whether or not he knew it. In fact, to Wayne, it made a lot of sense. Eddie had always talked about you from time to time. It was never anything nice, but Wayne knew there was some unresolved feelings deep down.

“I’ll talk to Hopper.” Wayne sat on the couch, rubbing his tired face.

Eddie felt himself relax. He knew you’d freak if you’d have heard that, but what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. He couldn’t just let this go. He cared for you too much, a feeling that was growing every passing day. He sat down beside his uncle, trying to control his erratic breathing.

“I’m such a dick.” He pushed out a breath. “All of this is my fault.”

“Edward,” Wayne put an arm around his shoulders. “That’s not true and you know it. None of this is your fault, ye hear?”

“It is,” His heart ached. “I left her alone all these years just to get beat on. Fuck- Wayne, I think..I think I’m falling in love with her.”

That was no surprise to his uncle. “Yeah, I know.”

Eddie stared at his bedroom door, heart racing and blood rushing. He had to retrain himself everyday from hunting down your parents and killing them. They were right outside his door. Even if he couldn’t take them, he’d die trying. It was overwhelming having such strong feelings in such a short amount of time. He wanted to wake you up. Wanted to hold you.

Half an hour later the truck had left and Wayne got ready for work. He sent Eddie back to bed, but he had no intentions of sleeping. He slid in next to you, pulling you close to his chest so he could hold you close. He was shaking, riddled with anxiety and fear of the unknown. He was scared of your parents, scared of what they would do to you. He understood it. He got why you ditched him. He almost wished nothing had changed, because know you were in danger.

He kissed your temple, sighing into your hair. “Sweet girl.”

•

You were sobbing in your pillow. You were surprised that you hadn’t got much of a beating like you usually did. Coming home from school had been a surprise, seeing your parents truck in the driveway. You had tried being sweet, loving at their arrival, but they had none of it. They questioned you about where you had been that previous night. You’d told them you’d been at Nancy Wheeler’s house, even called her to make sure she’d be your ally if called. You didn’t even hang out with Nancy, but she was always your back up person when things when to shit.

You had red marks around your throat. Not too bad, and you hoped they wouldn’t be so bad in the morning when you saw Eddie. Your right hand, however, was fucked up. Your dad had grabbed it too hard, twisting it. It wasn’t broken, however you knew it be hard to write with. Luckily, they hadn’t mentioned Eddie at all, so maybe you were in the clear. All the bruises in the world were okay as long as he was safe.

Your home life was shattered. You had no outside family. None that you would really consider family. Most of your uncles were in prison, and you wouldn’t ever feel safe with them. Your aunts were white trash bitches doing their probation up in Indianapolis. You had no brothers or sisters, thank god. You could barely take care of yourself. Your home wasn’t much of one.

You weren’t even a real person. You didn’t feel like it, at least. Your body felt like a puppet. You never felt alive, only with Eddie. Especially when you were kissing him. You knew that you weren’t healthy. You knew that you needed help out of the situation you were in, but that was nobody’s business but your own.

There were many of times where you thought about ending it all. Laying in the bathtub, you’d fantasized about slitting your wrist and turning the water red. It seemed easier than living the life you were. You hadn’t thought of that since Eddie.

Maybe there was some hope for you, after all.

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iamaslutforcoffee · 1 year

Note

eddie taking you nice and slow in the back of his van ugh need

Need indeed 🫡

Your Van in the Field

Warnings: 18+ explicit content. MDNI.

Unprotected PinV (wrap it). Oral (f). Weed. Mutual pining. Possessiveness I guess but it’s from a loving place. Sexual markings. Sprinkles of praise, biting, hair pulling and finger sucking? We flirt with dacryphilia in this. Fluffy fluff fluff.

AN: Sooooo I got incredibly carried away with this and don’t know if it’s the vibe you wanted but I tried my best and this is what happened 😅 tysm for this idea! 🫶 idek if I hate this or not? Very long waffles, like wtf am I going on about, but we move x

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Rain. It hits the leaves in the field around him with pitter patters that harmonise with the soft clunks to his van. Nature’s tiny bullets firing at the disrupter to its parched soil. It had been hot in Hawkins, uncharacteristically so. Blades of grass had yellowed and flowers grew weary in the heat, bowing their heads in surrender to the sun. It felt how it feels right before you need a good shower of rain.

And now: green. Green showed the life of plants being quenched and the hope of air being cleared, although right now the humidity was thick. Kind of like the staleness of the air prior was putting up a fight, staking it’s claim on this land…but hey, maybe that was just the weed talking. Whatever it was, it frizzed his hair up.

He lay in the back of his van and it was quiet - likewise, uncharacteristically so. He liked the rain. Liked to hear it, watch it, smell it - it made everything seem so fresh and replenished. It felt calming to him and it was one of the only times he’d keep the radio off. Although, it was off more and more as of late.

He’d decked his van out when the rain started to hit more. When you started to visit more. Blankets and pillows - none of which matched each other, making his ol’ faithful look cluttered and a bit offensive to the eye with the array of fabrics and textures accenting the tarnish of oranges and greens, some navy and black to add to the senses too. But it was comfortable, and you favoured a plush sage green cushion that he kept to one side incase he was lucky enough to see you.

He had one burnt orange pillow tucked behind his own head, and one leg crossed the other as he hummed softly. He took a long drag of his joint, watching the paper disintegrate in red embers and crinkle away as he inhaled before blowing out slowly, the smoke dancing above his head as it almost became the same mist that housed the humidity.

He didn’t want to admit to himself that he’d rolled one specially for you, telling himself it was for him later. And that he just kept it on your pillow so it wouldn’t be on the floor. The same floor that he’d covered in knitted blankets with different sized holes in them for what he liked to call character, not because you were a sucker for coziness and got cold feet. And he definitely told himself that the cardigan that you left here that time, the one that he tied around the back of his seat’s headrest, was there as a reminder to himself to give it back to you. You know, this time. He’d forgotten the last four times - he had! He swears it. He also leaves the little wild flowers you brought the other day shrivelling on his dash because it would be rude to get rid of them, not because when he looks at them he feels like you brought him flowers. Definitely not.

He couldn’t quite believe his luck that first afternoon - it had been raining then too, but was gloomy and cold. His offer to drive you home had been a stroke of courage he only found when he’d seen you alone, coat over your head ready as you pondered the best plan of action to run home in the rain. You worked in the cafe next to the mechanic shop he made his best of a living in (he took the job for Wayne, but secretly now loved it) and so seeing the familiar face made you bashfully accept his offer. He’d always been nice to you, of course. ‘Black coffee with three sugars to go cute guy from next door’

You’d chit chatted quietly to one another, politely at first, the rain’s song keeping any awkward silences at bay…until you’d started to make each other laugh. Until you drove past the pizza place you said did ‘the best pizza ever!’ and it happened to be his favourite too. Until before either of you knew it, you were sat in the back of his van, both damp with sodden pizza boxes discarded. And soon those boxes sat empty save a few crusts, the chats and laughs had turned into gazes that lingered with testing touches to arms and legs, which somehow led to kisses - new and unfamiliar, but teasing and excited. Small pecks at first until mouths opened and tongues squirmed. Until his lips were hot at your chill-bitten cheeks as they ghosted your face, thawing the skin, and your hands were warming the back of his neck. Fire in your bellies keeping you warm. Until he didn’t know where the line was, and neither did you, as to what you could both do next.

Until he really did need to take you home, as it had somehow passed midnight.

And from then? From then he parks his van here. The little spot in a quaint field by some trees - the same one where you’d shared pizza and kisses. And then one day shared music and cuddles. Another time, you’d shared bodies and fucked like bunnies into the night. The passings of seasons had seen many, many meetings where you’d unwrapped each other like presents, surprises and things to learn inside both mind and body - until that one night where you’d laughed so gleefully and for so long that both of your side’s had ached…and it happened. Without either of you knowing it, that time you both shared love. Like two teenagers who didn’t know better. And like teenagers, you danced around the topic, neither knowing what you meant to the other.

You had come to see him in the end, of course; the magnet pulling you back to the van in the field like always. You’d gently tapped the metal of the doors and god, you could practically feel your eyes light up when he lifted his head up to see who was there. If you were a cartoon, hearts would have popped from your sockets and you mentally chastised yourself for it. He grinned at the sight of you, shuffling up onto his elbows.

“Hi, I brought sandwiches” you beamed, presenting a plastic bag that was dripping with water before carefully removing some of the blanket area to place it down without getting them wet. He noted the way your clothes clung to you, and the wetness that held your hair, water droplets collecting at the end of the strands and soaking into your work blouse.

He was positively thrilled to see you. As always. He itched to wrap you up in him, the minimal space between you causing him actual harm - but he also itched to get you out of those clothes. It’s funny, really, but times like these are when he knows that this has definitely shifted from physical to emotional. Yes, of course he wanted you out of your attire for his own selfish reasons, your body his heaven and he was certain he’d done something incredibly noble in a past life to deserve to see it the way he does…but his first thought was to prevent you getting sick more than anything else.

So he listened when you told him about your day, and how you acquired all the sandwiches that had been ordered for some event and it had fallen through. And you listened as he told you about his day. You giggled at him when he told you about the royal fuck up he made on Mrs Up-Tight’s car bill and how he was definitely going to be sued as well as fired and then tortured and murdered when she found out.

And then he’d suggested it. Clothes off so they can attempt to dry. Please and thank you.

“I have nothing to change into” you’d pointed out after finishing a bite of a sandwich.

“You think I have all these blankets around for decor?”

“Well, it’s definitely not for decor” you smirked, eyeing the clash of colour, and he chucked a crust at you.

And with that, a bit too eagerly, you’d agreed on ‘naked blanket cuddles’.

“Ah ah - I wanna do it” he told you as your fingers went to the button of your pants, making ridiculously cute grabby hands at you, which made you faux roll your eyes as you come to stand in front of him. He shuffled onto his knees and you earned a pinch to your sides for that ‘sass’ as he’d call it, followed by a playful but scolding nip from his teeth at your hip as he began to drag the material down your legs. As if he’d started something he had to finish, his soft bites became a gentle suckle, and then pillowy lips latched harder and sucked their mark into your skin.

He undressed you like you were an intricate piece in a museum; like you were precious and expensive. The new bruise that bloomed on your hip almost seemed corruptive, like a vandalism of art, and it made his brain short circuit to see it there. But he handled you with such care that it sometimes had your eyes stinging with the threats of tears - featherlight touches he’d chase with his nose and lips, eyes closed as though savouring.

It would be easier to swallow any tears down when he’d make you huff laughs with things like walking his two fingers up your legs and talking to your thighs like they were people outside of you, a gentle hand squashing your face to one side as he whispered something beautifully dumb like ‘sssshhh, we weren’t talking to you’ before he’d trace his lips slow against your skin to leave another delicate bruise into the flesh inside. A fresh burial to a graveyard of his hickeys.

Now listen, he loved leaving his marks on you. Loved that you loved them. Loved remembering your escapades that caused them when he found them again, and so did you as you’d trace them fondly in the shower of a night. But, honestly? He also loved that while you were allowing him to visibly litter you in his affections, it meant that you probably weren’t letting anyone else see them. Nobody else settled between your thighs on nights he didn’t see you. He liked to think of himself as an easy going, not overly possessive guy - but then he met you, and the thought of you with anyone else knocked his stomach. And so ultimately, he keeps marking his territory.

Not that you’re his, of course. After all, you’re not together. He’s cool and breezy about the situation. You can see other guys if you want…’cause you’re not together. Completely your choice. As long as you’re happy. That’s totally cool. He takes it back, he just thinks hickeys are fun and you like them too and that’s it…because you’re not together and…

And if you are seeing other guys, he hopes they choke and die.

You knew none of his inner turmoil. You just saw the goofball talking to your thighs while biting and kissing at them, like normal. Making you lightheaded with the feel of his mouth but laugh with the tone of his words. But wow, he could also be so quick to turn things overwhelmingly sensual. Intense eyes upon you, the teasing glint glazing over with something a fraction away from lust: want. Plain and simple. He wanted you. From goofball to lover in seconds, but always beautifully himself.

He swiped his nose over your underwear covered clit that throbbed as if standing to attention, and he planted a soft kiss there before he attached his mouth over the fabric and exhaled, deep and controlled. Your body jolted at the hot air that seeped into your cunt before he hooked his fingers into the waistband and peeled the cotton from you.

He lightly pressed at your hip, guiding you back against the metal side of the van and following you towards it on his knees. He reached his hands up to pop open each button he could reach on your blouse, ghosting his fingers back down your stomach and leaving tingles chasing in their wake. You left the cheap work shirt on, just unbuttoned and open, bra peeking out from it’s curtains. He lifted your leg up and over his shoulder, calf and foot trailing down his back and he sponged a kiss to your knee before his lips ghosted at the flesh of your thigh, now cushioned in the junction of his shoulder.

He obviously left more of his marks as he went. He couldn’t help it - but he tried to be kind about it at least. Gentle, gentle, gentle until he lost himself in mouthing at you, and his teeth closed around your skin hard. You hissed out a gasp and he couldn’t help a smirk against you. Hickeys had a loving undercurrent of motive, he thought, but faint bruises in the shape of his shallow bite welts? They were purely just for his fun (and lack of self restraint) - they made his cock twitch.

Hearing your noises from above, even a ‘please’ sneaking from you, his patience run wore thin and he let out a soft groan before burying his tongue inside you. He lapped at you with purpose, and that purpose was to taste. It wasn’t desperate, though, more like content as he hummed into your centre, his tongue flat and steady as it licked a long stripe from your entrance to clit before swirling at the swollen bud. He sucked you into his mouth gently and he shook his head languidly from side to side and your body was spasming with the lightness in his touches, just how he knew you liked it. You were grinding down lazily onto his face and letting out noises that were fucking sinful but oh so lovely for him to hear. The hand he gripped your thigh with tightened to keep you to him, his goal of your orgasm in mind.

“I-fuck-I knew naked blanket cuddles were a ploy” you strained out, voice all high and breathy, your hand covering his that had snaked around to grope at the softness of your ass. He pulled away, a cocktail of your slick and his saliva stringing from you to his mouth and he nodded, tutting and eyebrows raising. Mock sympathy laced through the action.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want me to stop?” He asked, cocking his head to the side and resting it on your thigh.

“Don’t you dare” you admonished, hooking your leg firmer to keep him where he was. You fastened your fingers to his hand that covered the flesh of your ass and dragged it towards your centre, which had him scoffing as he ran his fingers through your folds, dipping one into your entrance and pumping carefully.

“Thought so” he teased, bringing his fingers to his mouth to suck you from them. It was the sexiest thing you think you’ve ever witnessed - it made you pause and take a minute to really look at the man between your legs: literally kneeling for you, hair a frayed disarray of a halo around him, lips puffy and glistening with you - it had you clenching around nothing. Your chest flooded, and god you were so in love.

Wait, what?

No. No, no, no. That would be foolish, wouldn’t it? You’re just casual. Easy breezy. Nothing serious and that was fine. And he probably wouldn’t want anything more anyway. No strings was best, for sure.

Your fingers come to comb through his hair, but your heart suddenly swells before your brain could work out why, stopping you from pulling him back into you momentarily. And the reason? Nothing short of ridiculous. It was that immediately you’d felt the texture change and it made you feel giddy, like a lovesick puppy because…your man’s hair gets frizzy in the humidity. That had your hormones fizzing. Ridiculous.

The logic in your brain hissed at you, saying that he wasn’t your man and how this new information was unbelievably stupid and unimportant - literally who cares about hair - but the heartstrings clearly in control here pulled at the mechanics of the corner of your mouth, and before you could stop it you were smiling down at him.

Oh yeah. You were in love with this man. Pathetically so. No doubt about it.

Fuck.

It was only the feeling of his tongue back on your clit that snapped you out of your trance. Two fingers in a ‘V’ to splay you apart for him as he attacked the swollen bud. Your head thumped back against the tin behind you, fingers tightening in his endearingly frizzy hair and you felt him push your leg on his shoulder open wider to spread you without needing his hands, because he was needing them to sink his ring clad finger into your centre. Crooking upwards, a soft moan rose from you as he found that spot - the one that had you reeling and had your legs quaking as they turned to mush. His tongue was relentless as he matched the new faster pace by entering a second finger as he suckled on your clit, and he was humming out in satisfaction at your mewls, the vibration against you exquisite.

Grinding your hips against his face with vigour, you chanced another peek down at the man who was wrecking you, and that’s when you came. His eyes were already on you, watching your every reaction to be sure he had you where he wanted you, and it was a beautiful clash of deep mahogany eyes mixing with the purple blossoms on your thigh. Your orgasm prickled over you and your body tensed as it went, back arching and grip a vice in his roots. He didn’t mind - he was moaning just as loud as you were at this point. Your chest heaved as you came down, literally, leg puddling beneath you and you let it happen. Sliding down the side of the van meant you got to be closer to him anyway.

Face to face now, you couldn’t help but kiss him. A messy, dirty kiss where the desperation flowed through you both like an electric current. Both of you buzzing. Your hands flew to his belt and you tugged him closer with it, pulling at the leather and clinking open the buckle, a ‘thwip' clipping the air as you slid it from its loops. You were both on your knees now, and your hands were incessant in feeling him, tickling the skin of his back before sweeping to his front in a cycle, before your nails settled to scratch at the bristle of hair that led into his jeans. His hands were tangled into your locks as he continued licking into your mouth, and he groaned at the idea of you tasting yourself from him.

“Off” you mumbled through kisses, popping the button and struggling to pull the jeans down his legs.

“I thought you just wanted to cuddle?” He jested in despite of his actions. He was pulling your head by your hair to one side to kiss you deeper, before sliding his wet lips down to your neck and beginning to leave his featherlight love there.

“Naked blanket cuddles, remember? You started this” you bit, but it left you breathless when he licked a long stripe up your neck, “please? I need you closer”

Shot. Right through the chest. Those simple words leaving your mouth like a bullet from the barrel of a gun and cracking him through his ribcage. Tearing him open and leaving his heart bared and vulnerable. In that moment, he knew a scary truth that didn’t really make sense, but he knew that you could have anything from him. Anything that you might ask for or want? You’d have it. He’d bleed for you, and that was slightly terrifying because you weren’t official, and he told himself that you probably didn’t even want to be. But you’re asking for him to be closer, and of course he’ll oblige. It’s impossible for him not to. But fuck it if he didn’t need you close too - right now and all times outside of that.

So, he let you undress him. Because he’d let you do anything you wanted. Break him into a thousand pieces for all he cared, as long as it was your hands doing the smashing, but he never feared that as your tenderness with him always rendered him speechless. He’d watch with his big doe eyes as your fingers and mouth would lightly trace over his tattoos and skin, disbelieving every time that this amount of thought was going into him by you. He felt seen when you were around him, and he would always feel fire behind your touch; you made him spark. He swears you can feel when a person is made for you - your body tells you so.

And when you kissed finally, everything just stopped.

Naked bodies flush under the heap of blankets, sage green and burnt orange pillows next to each other in the van beneath you, fingers wandering and tongues exploring what they already know but have become obsessed with mapping. The rain outside white noise, but also intensifying everything - every whimper felt private and concealed, like it was really just for the two of you under the coat of nature hiding you both away.

It wasn’t rushed. None of it. You treated each other like you had all the time in the world, touching each other with slow hands and mouths meshed together to just enjoy kissing. Switches from the ghosting of lips to hungry and hot - over and over. You were laying side by side, his arms tangled around you and yours in his new bushy hair, and he’d drawn your leg up and over his waist which you’d then firmly secured around him. It was almost like you thought he’d pull back if you didn’t keep him there - which was crazy, he thought, because he was going nowhere ever again.

“I missed you” he mumbled out in between kisses, an admission that he poured from his mouth into yours only, not even the air around was deserving of a drop. Though your smile was sugar sweet, your eyes held a sparkle that had his mind spinning, and you weren’t sure if your hips had started to rock against him before or after his sentiment - but they were now and he signed into your mouth as he jutted his own hips, feeling his cock prod the warm mess between those thighs he loved so goddam much.

“I missed you, too” you whispered back, one of your hands coming to thumb at his cheek. You felt the smooth skin, but noticed the small bumps of imperfection and blemishes under your pad and enjoyed feeling him so beautifully human. You reached down after a while and let your fingers wrap around his cock, earning a hitch of breath from him as you stroked him up and down, your thumb swiping over the tip before fondling a little at his balls too (you loved his cock, but his balls were your favourite to play with, if you were being honest. They got him sensitive and desperate). He let out a groan, tipping his head upwards to revel in your touch and when you attached your lips to his neck and suctioned your way up and down, it had him fucking shuddering.

“Let me taste you now” you nipped against his goosebump risen skin and it smelled of pure him, it made your mouth and centre pool, but he shook his head slowly. He wanted that, christ, he really did - but he knew if you got your mouth stuffed full of him he’d be cumming embarrassingly quickly with how riled up he felt, and he wanted to be inside of you.

“Won’t last baby, need to split you open - fuck” he was cut off by you running his length through your dripping folds, his cock sitting pretty along the seam of you and you began to rock your hips, your slick glazing his shaft like syrup as you slid forward and back, whining when his leaking tip would catch your clit. Two bundles of nerves shocking upon contact.

Annnd…he was fucked. Gasping for air already. He could feel the wetness and heat from your cunt clasp to him like the humidity stifled the van. Everything seemed to get hotter, and the rain seemed to bounce heavier. He moved his hips with you, his fingers coming to sift through your hair at your temples before they curled into fists and gripped at the strands. He smiled at your gasp, using your roots as handles to pull your head away from him slightly to see your face, and he shook his head again. This time, an act of awe.

“Fuckin’ beautiful” he breathed out , eyes scanning over your face with blown pupils and a small crease in his brow, “wanna feel you - please, please, please” and each ‘please’ was punctuated with a kiss to your cheeks.

And now it was your turn to have the air punched out of you. That was the thing with him, he knew how to melt you down into molten liquid that bubbled and frothed at his touches - but he could also be just as malleable for you, and luckily, he knew it made you crazy. Like when he pleaded for you? Flutters. To the heart and elsewhere.

The subtle pull at your hair paired with his words was his way of saying ‘put me inside’ without having to say it, and it didn’t take much guiding for him to easily sink into your gummy walls. You might have teased him for his impatience in another scenario, but somehow it didn’t feel right to interrupt the discussion happening between atmosphere and bodies.

A little twist of your hips had him bottoming out inch by glorious inch, your hair still threaded between his knuckles and he grazed your temple with a thumb; eyes trained on each other as he embedded himself deep within your body. His mouth was mirroring yours unbeknownst to him, every gasp and drop of your jaw he mimicked without even realising - two bodies really becoming one it felt, as you could no longer tell where he ended and you began.

A shaky breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding stuttered from you, because although you were more than ready enough for him to nestle inside, there was always an ache to the stretch his cock moulded into you. It had you feeling so fucking full, wincing slightly at the intrusion that contradicted the way your cunt gushed around him happily - but he always stayed still until you gave some sort of signal. Every. Damn. Time. You knew from experience not a lot of guys did that, just ramming in and out regardless, blissfully unaware of any discomfort you may feel, so it always made everything…nicer when he did it. Made you feel safer. Respected. Like he was more tuned in to you. Cared more, understood more - it was like he wanted this to be good for you.

Good for you. Just like he always was.

So you told him so. Told him how good he made you feel, how perfect he felt inside. How he was made for you, and how you thought you must be made for him too with how well he fills you. “So, so good for me.” your voice cooed into his ear, and he almost lost it when you uttered a “thank you”. You told him while pressing love into the skin on his face. Your lips a sponge compressing soothing affection to his emotional scars. Healing.

A whine whistled at the back of his throat at your praise. He told you that he tried, that he wanted to be good for you because you’re always so good for him: taking him so well, letting him mark you up even though he knows you like it, for sounding so pretty when you cum for him - and because he knew it made you crazy, a little degradation always tickling a part of you, he thanked you for letting him use you up like this.

It had you beating around his cock, causing throaty groans to rumble from him which made your stomach sear with nothing other than arousal. It always felt like he was back where he belonged whenever you’d keep him snug within your walls, your blood running so hot it could be cold at the thought of you being able to pull sounds like that from him simply because he “can feel you squeezin’ me, fuck”. He released your hair and it left your scalp stinging, but only in mourning for his touch, which he offered relief from when he connected your foreheads.

You were wrapped around his cock so tight he felt himself needing to choke. He felt himself shiver when you started to pepper your kisses to his face. Gifting him with them like you couldn’t help but and it had you humming, all content and happy. When he pulled you even tighter against him, a small thought of logic in the back of his head somewhere feared breaking you, but the rest of his brain couldn’t resist you being this close. Your lips traced the shell of his ear, and the flicker of your soft moans whisped into him, your breath fanning at his skin and setting his body static and…well, he might have been embarrassed at the pathetic noise that tickled the back of his throat if it had escaped.

His hips struggled not to buck and you could feel it, the small tremors in his muscles as he fought against the urge to pound into you. You knew it was time for him to move - no, you needed it to be time for him to move, the ache of stretch having turned into an ache of need that throbbed around him. So, you sucked his earlobe into your mouth, suckling lazily at the flesh that felt cold on your tongue and you wiggled your hips gently: a nudge. Your signal to him. Move.

There were times he might be in a certain mood, and he’d work you up to get you all flustered and desperate, refusing to move to see if he could pull some begging out of you. But right now, he knew it wasn’t that kind of night - he didn’t want it to be. He just heeded your request, pulling out fractionally to dip back up into you, the head of him already grazing that beautiful spot that had your toes curling and a dazed smile spreading across your features. The noise you let out was almost one of relief, and you felt the pillow of his cheek gather slightly beneath yours, the tell tale sign he was smiling too.

He set a steady pace, enticing a push and pull of gasps and a chorus of shaky, thoughtless noises of pleasure. Gentle hands accompanied by faces that smush into each other’s like doves might nuzzle on a concrete balcony in the sunset, one where it’s quiet despite the bustle of the city below - it was so personal that it almost made you shy. The rain continued it’s fall outside of the van and the blankets around you felt sensitive as the fabric brushed against your skin, almost overstimulating as the only feel or sound you wanted was him.

He gave a much harder thrust and your head lolled back, a moan pushing through your chest like his cock had punched it from you. Delightedly, his lips were on the column of your throat like he’d been waiting for it forever, his teeth grazing lightly at your skin and sloppy kisses being mouthed there. He held back though, remembering your agreement: no marks on your neck.

He maintained his firmer movements, hard slams in but slow and dragging pulls out. He could feel everything. Every ridge that lined you and coated him. The way you clung to him and cried out had his own toes curling, and the only thing stopping him from filling you to the fucking brim was distraction. So he ducked down and lapped at your nipple before moving to sink his teeth into the side of your breast. Not hard enough to be painful, but enough to make you sing and keep him busy with something other than pumping you full. And christ, you were whiny. Clutching at his hair with merciless fingers and voice cracking every now and then. So, of course, he continued his dizzying movements.

Over and over and over again.

Desire took over him and the more you arched back, the more he tipped over you, fucking himself further and further into your cunt as he followed. Now writhing beneath him, his hand grips your leg to drag you completely under, spreading you wide to continue the bullying of your spot. His waves engulf you as you lay on the sea bed ready for the current to sweep you with it - happy to have him drown you. But it was you that drowned him as the lewd noises filled the room, his cock squelching through your cream. It would’ve been mortifying if it wasn’t so fucking sexy for both of you to hear. In fact, it had him panting out a “fuck, listen to that” as he cast his eyes to where you met to get a good look.

The way his cock plunges into you, his heavy presses into your magical spongey area, it had you mewling and twitching into him. He draped his body over you, and used his whole weight to push deeper. Deeper than you thought he could get, rolling his hips with a skill that he’d mastered especially for you. His hands had come to cradle the top of your head, his shoulders framing you and his forearms holding him up. You’re wrapping your arms and legs around his torso and pulling, grappling at him so that as much as your skin was connected to his as possible. Smoothing your hands down the expanse of his back, you whimper as you feel the muscles ripple under your touch, his body wracking with each ragged breath he takes; it has your heels digging into the soft of his ass, causing his pubic bone and thatch of hair to brush deliciously against your clit.

“Fuck, angel, takin’ me so well. Like me close, huh?” he rasped into your ear, a groan following his sentiment as your walls quivered around him. It was the ‘angel’ that did it this time. You loved him calling you his little nicknames - internal squealing causing havoc in your chest whenever it happened. Nodding, a small ‘mmhmm’ squeaks from the back of your throat, pathetically really, and you dig your hands into his hair to bring his lips to yours as if to prove it - suddenly needing to taste him more than anything.

The hot kiss which was all tongues and teeth reflexively bucks your hips, and you rotate them up to join his rhythm when you hear the growl that thunders from his throat and the teeth that puncture your lower lip - not enough to draw blood, but honestly? You don’t think you’d care if it did. It had you both panting out gasps and thankful cries which in turn had that very same tongue and teeth kiss turning into lips that lingered as frantic breathing merged into one between you; literally oxygenating you both, it seemed, and you clutched at each other with a tenderness that went against its desperate motives.

His hand laced through yours and slid up to pin your arm above your head, his other hand still at the top of your head but his fingers were weaving themselves back into your hair and tugging with strength that was just enough. The pressure his hips were driving into you was shockingly enough for your climax to tip-toe up on you, coil forming like a heavy swarm of flutters in your stomach. But, of course, he knew that. He could read it from your body - or his fingers would’ve been toying with your clit ten minutes ago. It was difficult to breathe in the best way, and he was cooing his soft “so pretty for me”s and “love seeing you like this”s into your ear.

But the man who knew more about your body than anyone, the man who could play you like his instrument…when he panted out your name, it was like he both didn’t realise he’d said it and like he hesitantly wanted to get your attention. It was unsure…but he was never unsure with you. You replied with a ‘hmm?’ all breathy and sweet, and when he didn’t answer you, you peeled open your eyes that you hadn’t realised you’d shut - and there he was, looking down at you. He was flushed and it bled into his chest, eyes blown black and lips blushed and puffy with an expression of…admiration? Desperation? Realisation? Worry? You couldn’t quite work it out, and your brow furrowed faintly as your hand brushed caresses his face.

Another pant of your name, as if building himself up for something, but he was quiet when he began, “I…I think…”

He nearly said it. He really very nearly fucking said it. And he didn’t think, he knew. Those three words prickling at the tip of his tongue like it was a wrestle against whether the muscle formed them or not. It was too soon, wasn’t it? It was also ridiculous, right? You weren’t even together. He just knew that the times you visited him in his van were his new favourites. That he missed you more than anything on days you didn’t arrive. The days that your shifts were swapped or the days that you had other plans. The days you didn’t know that he waited here after his shifts, just incase. He just knew that he nearly fucking said it, and he really fucking meant it.

He also knew that your fingertips were scorching him, branding him as yours in a way that he doesn’t even think you realise.

“You think?” You offered gently. His pace had slowed back to his initial shallow dips as he stared down at you, eyes flitting between yours - but he felt your once spasming walls start to relax back to a hug around his cock and knew he was losing the orgasm he really wanted to get you to.

So he chickened out. Of course he did.

“I-I think you need to finish before I do, sweetheart. Getting hard to hold on over here” coward.

Your eye twitched and he grew cautious as a kind smile was presented to him, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You knew. You knew he wanted to say something else, but before you could press it further he quickly picked his pace back up to that eye rolling pressure in a way that was so sudden it took you by surprise. His hand left the nest of your hair and flew to your leg, hitching it higher than the other up his torso and that’s when he really started to fuck into you.

Your nails dug into his hand that you held as his hips slammed hard, and he brought his free palm to rest at your throat. He wasn’t squeezing, but he knew you loved feeling the heat of his hand on such a sensitive area, and he was right as he watched your head crane back so he could cover the skin of your neck more. It wasn’t too fast, but the firmness about his thrusts had you crying out. Had your brain emptying of any coherent thoughts. It felt amazing, and you were on cloud nine, but he was busy trying to find that button to press that makes you light up. That makes you shatter.

A shift. To the left. A bit further up. He knows it’s here somewhere - he feels it swell and pulse against his head every time he’s tucked inside of you. His teeth grit to keep his composure at the way your ridged walls pull at his cock….a tiny extra angle of his hips up and…

There.

Your mouth hangs open and fingers skim with claws bared to dig into his shoulder, etching angry, red lines there and so naturally, he pounds into it. He can’t help but grin when he hears your noises cut off, a silent moan echoing somewhere inside, jaw stuck open on its hinges, but he quickly takes advantage of your mouth being agape. Fingers on your neck come to slot in between your lips and he groans when you suck on them without being told. Coating and drooling around them as you whine from the back of your throat. He takes his fingers away from you, and you try to follow them which makes him chuckle almost incredulously - because goddam he can’t believe it’s him making you feel this way - before he’s rushing to swirl circles into your clit and that’s when he knows he’s got you on your way.

The cry that was trying to break free finally emanates from your lungs and seems to seep through your entire being as you grip at him in every sense. Arm tight, hand cutting the circulation off in his, legs wrapped, cunt a vice. You’re still making your pretty sounds beneath him, and he sees your glossy eyes and knows he’ll probably bring those tears out when you cum. His cock twitches inside of you. There’s a part of him he worries is fucked up, because he wants to make you wail. Wants to make you to cling to him and cry heavily and it could be any time now - he knows you’re close, your walls being charged with fucking asphyxiation of his dick.

“Oh, I can feel that. C’mon, let me feel you soak me” he whispers down to you, and he didn’t realise how forcefully he’d been pressing into you until you choke a ‘don’t stop’ and your free arm is flinging above your head to brace yourself against the back of the van seats that he’d nearly fucked you into, moving you across the floor with every strong delivery of his hips. His fingers speed up their circles to your pulsing nub and you use the new leverage as resistance to gyrate back down onto him; his jaw could break its that tense trying to hold out for you.

Your breast are jiggling for attention as they bounce with every slap of his hips into you, and so he obliges their silent plea, mouth watering as he laves his tongue over the pebbled bud of your nipple. An almost pained noise leaves you: it’s the wail he wanted. The dam breaks and he pants against your chest, resting his forehead there as he feels your body quake and seize as your orgasm crashes into you. Your nails scrape down the material of the seat your hand still clutches to, and he loves that he has you wrapped around both of his seats. Your cardigan still hanging from the back of his and you clinging for dear life to the other.

He pulls his head up to watch you writhe and shake beneath him and doesn’t even realise his hips still. Too overtaken with the view he has to even think about his own orgasm. He’s in-fucking-fatuated with you, and he could just melt at the fact that he still holds your hand securely in his as you fuck yourself on him through your high. The rain outside still trickles down the windows of his van like the slick down the insides of your thighs and the sweat down your neck.

He notes that he was right, stray tears that avoided the puddling on your cheeks raced their way into your hairline. Rain into grass. Tears into hair. You’re crying for him like the sky does for it’s ground. Sobbing as your chest wracks from the overwhelming feelings ricocheting around your body. His cock is straining and he doesn’t know whether to hate himself for it, but you look so pretty with your glazed eyes and splotched skin. God, in this moment, his own emotions are too much for him, and he doesn’t know whether to cry himself or absolutely fucking ruin you, and he ponders it while tacking his thumb fondly at the diamonds on your skin, bringing the glitter to his mouth and sucking, tasting the salt.

He’s so caught up in you and that fact that he was able to give you that orgasm so intense that it made tears stain your face, that it makes his body pliant when you bend your leg around his waist and use the momentum to topple him over onto his back, sitting pretty atop of him as your overstimulation screams - but you want him to cum more than anything, and so you bounce. You ignore the protest that burns your thighs as you drop your hips down with purpose, hearing the squelch of your bodies and his eyes are rolling, noises from him filthy. His hands come to your hips and they grab bruisingly, pushing and pulling to assist you in your movements and you swell with pride as his head drops back with a clunk and a loud groan rips through his chest.

“Need you to cum, wanna feel you fill me” you purr down to him, lip popping to a pout and hand coming to rest on his chest, the other mimicking his earlier move and resting at his throat. And just like that, there’s a spasm of his hips and a tense of his abdomen beneath you. His warmth is coating your walls and it has your cunt locking down around him, taking everything he has from him. Milking him for all he’s worth.

His face is a picture - more than that, it’s art. You can’t help reach one hand out to let your fingers trace him. Over his sweat glistening forehead, over his swollen lips that you smush around slightly, flipping your hand so the back of it runs down his cheek. His eyes are lulling and he’s puffing deep breaths as his fingers remain cemented into the flesh of your hips. His chest is heaving…and then it’s shaking as he lets out a joyous laugh.

“Holy shit” he huffs a little exhale of a chuckle, clearly spent, and you giggle back down at him as he finally lets go of your hips that he’s marked with finger shaped marks, your skin sticking to his fingers slightly before they separate. He paws at your wrists to pull you down to lay flat atop of him, the feeling of your breasts on his bare chest has you both sighing and you didn’t expect to be pulled in for a kiss, but the sloppy, lazy smooch you were now a part of was one you couldn’t help but bask in.

Your face tracing resumes, with the added feature of playing with the ends of his hair once you’d pulled back. His softening cock slips from you, and it makes you wince at the feeling of emptiness. You shiver at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you, and he must’ve thought you were cold as he pulled the blankets higher around you and reached for the joint that, in the end, did find the floor - and that’s how you were for the rest of the night. Passing the joint back and forth between you, listening to each others voices or just the rain as you kissed and held each other, feeling skin brush against skin. Soft squeals as he’d tickle your sides and gentle gasps as you’d nibble on his neck.

You didn’t want your time to be up with him, but soon you were feeding the last of the sandwiches to his ready and waiting open mouth as he eyed the road he was driving you back home on, the rain spattering and spitting at the windscreen and bouncing off the concrete. Although he didn’t really have crumbs to clear, you’d affectionately swipe at the corners of his mouth after he’d finish the section you’d fed him, and he’d chase a peck to your palm.

You were down bad.

It was suffocating. Your chest hurt sometimes to look at him with all the emotions that bubbled under the surface. And what’s worse is, you felt like you knew what he was going to say before. You ached to hear it, because then you’d know it wasn’t too soon for you to say it. And shit, you fought daily not to slip and spill your secret to him. But honestly? Did you care at this point? Your van rendezvous had turned into the highlights of your weeks. You’d impatiently watch the clock tick on your shift, the shifts where time had started to stand still, only for your stomach to shock with electricity with every step you took to your van that was always waiting in your little field for you.

Your van. Your little field.

Bad. Very, very bad.

What was this to him? It didn’t feel like hook ups in the back of his van. It didn’t feel like you were just a quick fuck. But…even you were, you don’t think you could stop.

But no. There’s something about the twinkle in his eye when he looks at you, isn’t there? You can feel the charge behind it and it’s almost too much to maintain any sort of eye contact when his brown orbs are burning into you. Gleaming like a clear night sky, stars glittering on their canvas. There’s something about the way he holds you, touches you. The way your bodies writhe together and the way he responds to your touches - you’ve noticed the hitches in his breath and watched the goosebumps that cheat his skin. It’s the way you laugh together, and it’s definitely the way his dimple is giving him away as he attempts to bite back the shy smile at the pad of your thumb swiping at his mouth, selling him out to the point he had to kiss your palm quick to mask it.

And so when he pulls up outside your house and you make to go inside, like many a night before and what you hope is many a night after, it’s out of your mouth before your brain even has time to stop it. Before it manages to cage it to keep it safe, frantically grappling to fortify your emotions and arm you. But the secret is impatient, and it’s been brewing and plotting. Swarming like a silent poison in your veins, it’s been tricking your tongue to act against its sanctuary and work on fighting rationality - escaping it’s clutches. Because, that’s the point isn’t it? It’s not rational. It never could be rational and it’s played to it’s strengths. It thanked the humid air and drizzle that made you feel less alone and prayed on your vulnerability to the moment.

And, it was the only thing that cut through the protection that nature provided you as soon as it left your lips. Clearing the air and drying it up just like the saliva in your mouth. Nerves settling and making everything static.

You kissed him like normal. A long, passionate kiss that had you licking into each other’s mouths and nuzzling noses, dropping gentle pillows of lips in pecks afterwards as if you couldn’t get enough. Quite frankly, it was sickeningly gross. But you were too happy to care.

“Bye” you slotted between pecks.

“Bye” he’d replied, eyes still closed and no efforts made by him to stop kissing you, to the point you’re giggling and his arms are tightening around you over the console as you try and move, a playful whine leaving him as your hand tries to grab at the handle to open the door. And then you’re giggling more as you’re squirming out of his grip and dropping down onto the gravel with him practically laying flat over the two seats with an arm outstretched to you dramatically. And you’d gone to wave like normal too when you reached his side window, but you’d noticed it had been wound down and he’d popped out of it like a jump-scare and pulled you back into another kiss that you both chuckled into. As you said, gross. Very, very gross. He even had a fucking magazine in hand to hold over your head to shield you from the drizzle - tooth rotting sweetness that you loved to hate.

And…then you said it.

That’s when the air stilled. When your stomach dropped as though the butterflies that flitted there all evening died and thumped to the pit of it.

“I love you” against his lips.

Like a fool. Like a lovestruck idiot.

And it was out there now with no going back. The secret thriving in the chaos of silence that lasted a second but spaced into hours. It just hung there in the air like the humidity had. Mocking you.

And…you took off. Of course you did. Right into your house - not giving him time to reply, if you think about it, but you had to get out of the suffocation your own words had brought upon you. Straight up the stairs you ran, into your room and when your door was quietly clasped shut, you paced the carpet with wide eyes and a pounding heart, nibbling anxiously at your fingernails.

Him? He was sat unmoving. Heart beating against his chest and it had rooted him to the spot. He hadn’t a clue what to do next, to the point it froze him in time. He couldn’t go after you, you still lived with your parents and he doubted now was a good time to knock. You also seemed to not want to see him right now. Should he call? Not now, it’s late. In the morning? And say what? Over the phone? No.

But it was out there now. In the van that you’d both somehow made your shared space. The words uttered and it couldn’t be undone. Movement coursed through him again as the slow motion seemed to skip back to real-time and catch up with him, bringing him back. He lent back against the headrest, and felt the soft cotton of your cardigan brush his neck.

A smile quirked his lips. That traitor of a dimple cratering in his cheek. He really hoped you’d show up to his van in your little field tomorrow. And god, he prayed that this time he didn’t chicken out.

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iamaslutforcoffee · 1 year

Note

Eddie thinking you’ve been ignoring him all day

Eddie Munson x Reader

(Tw: needles)

Eddie was sulking in bed, one pillow between his knees, the other crushed in between his arms, with his cheek flat against it.

Why hadn’t you called? You said you would.

Eddie Munson had such a crush on you. You were his best friend, but he really, really, really liked you... He had for a while.

You two had only managed to hang out for just under an hour yesterday, which was way less than usual. But since you had to leave to go socialise with your other friends, you promised to call Eddie today. ‘First thing in the morning’ you’d said, with the caveat of ‘if you’re up’, smiling playfully at him.

But it was now 3 pm and Eddie was lying face down on his bed, not even listening to music, or reading, he was just laying there, waiting.

Eddie had even called you four times today and no response, but your phone did ring. There was no way you were still asleep. Normally he’d just crawl through your window. He did that a lot. But yesterday you kept saying that you were ‘just tired’ when you two hung out, with the small time you had.

Maybe you didn’t want to see him?

Eddie clenched both pillows tighter, his body curling in on itself. He was always worried about this. Maybe people had finally gotten to you about him being a... a freak.

But no... you wouldn’t fall for that. You wouldn’t believe them, would you? You wouldn’t stop seeing him just to get people to like you more, gain back some of the social status you lost becoming friends with him.

But you said you were fine, you still had pretty much all your friends, who just scowled at Eddie and badmouthed him to you, but didn’t avoid you because of it. And you said you had your ‘true friends’, the ones who didn’t care about you and Eddie, and you said you had him! You said as long as you had that, you’d be happy...

Eddie rolled over, rubbing his legs together like crickets, before dejectedly kicking his bottom pillow off the bed since it’d gotten partly lost anyways, just squeezing his pillow tighter between his bitten fingernails. Trying not to punch it, because he’d been punching the pillow when it was curled against his stomach earlier, and he’d only hurt himself doing it. Punching the pillow didn’t make him feel any better. He just wanted you.

And then, the phone rang.

Eddie ran through the hospital doors, nearly breaking the automatic ones at the entrance, and he skidded to a halt at the board with directions of each ward, bouncing on his feet as he quickly read. Even though his eyes were slightly blurry from adrenaline, he could still read the large “4” meaning that your ward was an elevator ride up.

Eddie couldn’t give a shit about people staring at him as he ran through the hospital, crashing into every wall he took a corner through. It was a hospital, if there was anywhere people should understand someone running, it was here!

As Eddie finally thrust open your door, his panting breath finally became audible in his own ears, as he finally took a look at you. Staring up at him, in a hospital gown, an IV in your arm, but still smiling.

Eddie ran over to your side, but sat gently on your bed, carefully taking up your closest hand in his, avoiding the needle in it. And his deep brown eyes locked on yours. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

Eddie called you sweetheart sometimes. You didn’t mind, and he glared at anyone who seemed to find it odd until they backed down. And even though your mom had rang Eddie on your behalf, explaining to him that you were pretty much fine, Eddie still needed to ask you a million and one questions. All as he gently held you hand, doing all his best to not hurt you more.

You squeezed back Eddie’s hand, letting him know he was okay, as you shuffled further up the bed to sit up. “I’m fine, I’m sorry about all this.”

Eddie shook his head immediately, shuffling just like you did, but closer to you. His other hand stroking up and down the back of your wrist, holding your hand in his lap “No, no. What happened y/n?” Eddie looked down to your leg he could see clearer now under the hospital blanket. He didn’t even worry he’d be caught staring at your legs, especially in a robe that was a bit too short for you, because it was glaringly obvious he was staring at the big bandage wrapped around your calf.

“So basically, I woke up super early in the morning because I was feeling sick.” You saw Eddie’s body shuffling again, fidgeting, and you gave him a smile that was on the more humorous side of self-pitying, but still marginally annoyed at the whole situation. “But I was so tired, it was like, 4:30, and I only got back from Ellen’s at like 1 last night. So when I was carrying the bottle of medicine I kinda... slipped. And fell on the bottle. On the glass bottle.” You looked at Eddie pointedly, and his head tilted back as he got it now. But quickly his brown eyes went back to your leg, knowing what was under there now, his hand resting stretched on your knee as he observed it.

“Ew. Metal.” He commented, getting you to roll your eyes in agreement. “I know, right? You should’ve seen my bathroom, it looked like a crime scene.”

“You poor mom.”

“Oh she screamed.” You nodded.

Eddie sucked in air through his teeth, in sympathy of your poor leg, as he rubbed your knee.

“Anyway, so apparently the glass was pretty fucking deep, because it wasn’t enough to have stitches, I needed to have a small surgery.”

“SURGERY?!”

Eddie lowered his voice as you shushed him, not wanting a nurse to kick him out. His eyes were bulging out of their skull, shock horror on his face. “No one said anything to me about surgery!”

“It was a small one!” You promised.

“Is there actually such a thing?”

“Yeah!”

Eddie relented with a sigh, picking his head back up to look at you with those puppy dog eyes. His lip bitten in worry.

God, he was so fucking cute!

“But yeah, that only lasted, like, an hour. Not including the wait time, and the prep for surgery, and me waking up and all that shit. And then I didn’t get a single moment to call you or anything, because when I was up the doctors were testing me all day, just because I felt sick this morning. And they wanted to know if I was like, lightheaded, or dizzy or something, if there was any other reason I fell. At least they’re thorough I guess...”

Eddie nodded, deciding to just listen to all you had to say, his hand still rocking on your knee. Touch was very casual between you both anyway (minus occasional heavy beating hearts), plus he was just so glad you genuinely seemed okay. He thought. His head tilted when you finshed speaking, but he still thought that wasn’t enough, for his best friend who was literally describing their journey to the hospital. “...And??”

“Oh! I’m fine! It’s nothing serious.” You smoothed your free hand over the top of his, and you watched Eddie’s eyes go from still slightly worried on yours, to calm and washed over, over your joint hands. “It really was just an accident, and my leg should literally be fine too, the cuts were just a bit too deep for stitches. Plus it looked way worse than it was, I didn’t even stab any part of me inside, so no long lasting injuries or anything.”

“Good... Well I’m glad you didn’t get internally stabbed at least. Just a regular ole stabbing.” Eddie laughed out his nose, his smile only widening, because your smile got bigger when he finally smiled.

“Yeah, just a regular ole stabbing!” You agreed, now knowing that was going to be one of your inside jokes you two repeated all the time, much to the confusion of others. “Now I can join the basketball team, since my leg will be back to its full power.” You teased, knowing Eddie probably would have tackled you onto the bed if it wasn’t for you being injured, especially by the offended, yet very playful, way his eyebrows raised, and his jaw dropped in a smile.

“Don’t you dare. I’ll tell them all about your bathroom that’s soaked cieling to floor in blood. They’ll definitely think I’ve corrupted you.”

“The cieling didn’t get blood on it!” You rebutted, only getting Eddie to laugh, and you to join in response. Both of you rubbing each other’s hands, soothingly, but also self-soothingly. Just because you both wanted to. Because you liked being close.

Eddie’s smile stayed firmly planted on his warm lips. You were okay. You were fine, and you weren’t avoiding him. You didn’t forget him.

Eddie was the first person you’d asked to be called, when you got the opportunity for someone to reach the phone. You’d even told him you felt bad about not being able to call him, that you were worried about him. After all of today, you’d been worried about him, just because you couldn’t call? It made Eddie even more sure he was so right, for being so in love with you.

But you pat Eddie’s hand, with a tad more strength, just to show off how absolutely fine you were, and you even shuffled closer, so your thigh on your injured leg, was touching Eddie’s. “Hey.” You proposed, holding Eddie’s wrist to show he wasn’t going anywhere. “I’ve been in hospital for hours, since 5 this morning. So I think the least you could do is hang out with me all day.”

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iamaslutforcoffee · 1 year

Note

eddie who has a reputation to uphold, the weird and scary freak who wears chains and big metal rings and always goes on tangents about his hatred for the popular kids, not a sliver of fear or weakness in his eyes. eddie who at the same time never leaves his house without the light yellow scrunchy with daisies on it that you gave him, always on his wrist or wrapped in his hair.

eddie who’s sweet n soft on you in a way he never is with anyone else 🥹

💌 a/n: Oh god, this, this, this, this. Please, I don’t ask for much. I’m so happy to get back to writing! Hope you like it!

🪷 Check my recent poll ¡! 📌

“I lost it” His voice sounded almost defeated, and quite inopportune.

“Eddie!” You jolted in your place, closing the light green locker door. Behind it, there he was, the big, scary, mean freak of Hawkins High. Covered from head to toe in chains, leather, ripped jeans, black, black, all black. With dark, unruly hair and a chunky rings.

But also, with puppy eyes, and a quivering lip.

“You scared the shit out of me, Eds” The frown on your pretty face made his heart jump inside his chest. You were an angel, a sight for sore eyes.

“I lost it” He repeated.

“You lost what?”

“I’m sorry” Eddie looked down, apparently now his Reeboks were the most interesting thing.

“Care to explain what is missing and why are you apologizing?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you waited, for almost three minutes.

“I lost the scrunchy you gave me” He finally admitted, like a criminal at trial.

Eddie heard you sigh, to his ears, was a sigh of disappointment. In reality, it was a sigh of relief. Only Edward Munson knew how to make a simple thing as a scrunchy into a faithful message.

“That’s it? Eddie, it’s just a hair tie” You shook your head, still not comprehending the dimensions of his problem.

“It’s not just a hair tie!” He exclaimed, now almost offended, of course only he could switch mood that easily. A few curious students looked at your way, still wondering how did an adorable piece of cotton and sunshine like you, was dating the metalhead, three-times senior freak of not only high school, but of the whole town.

“Yes it is, love. I can just give you another one, don’t worry— Look, I can give you the one I’m wearing…”

“I don’t want that one” He said, his words sounding almost like a tantrum. “I want the one you gave me on our first date, the yellow one with little sunflowers”

“Daisies, Eddie” You corrected him with a smile. Only Eddie was able to remember such a tiny detail and forget a crucial detail.

Only Eddie was able to make you feel loved, cherished and appreciated. He was so different from every other person you have dated before. He snatched your heart from the very first day and it’s been a daily occurrence for almost a year. The scary, weird freak, the person considered a devil worshipper, the mean senior who had the admirable (or idiotic) courage to stand out against others who felt like they had the right to humiliate and ridicule those who weren’t like them. Your Eddie, the one who broke a jock’s nose one time for slapping your ass walking through the halls. Your Eddie, who waited patiently until every extracurricular activities you were into were over, so he could drive you home and hold your thigh and listen to you throughout the whole ride. Your Eddie, who loved Saturday night because it meant movie night, cuddles and kisses. The mean freak who let you braid his hair, paint his nails, sew his old t-shirts.

The Eddie Munson who was scared of spiders but wasn’t scared of a hundred people crowd. The boy who initiated a food fight at the cafeteria and had to go to the nurses office because an orange hit his eye and he realized he was allergic to them. The man who every Friday made fairy tales, knight stories and evil monsters come true and walk this very earth with just his voice and his imagination at his D&D club. Your Eddie, who on your first date, dropped a chocolate milkshake on top of your white dress, forgot to fill his fuel tank, and had to push his van all the way to the nearest gas station.

That’s how the bright scrunchy ended up in his hair, in a makeshift ponytail that you made by running your delicate fingers through his tangled hair.

That was your Eddie.

Your Eddie. Yours. Yours.

“Fine, let’s go find it” You said, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “Tell me what you did today…”

Sorry for any mistakes! English is not my first language. Thank you for reading!˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

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iamaslutforcoffee · 1 year

Text

i made more of the rockstar eddie edits 🌟

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iamaslutforcoffee · 1 year

Note

What about surprising Demon!Eddie by summoning him and he arrives to you kneeling for him wearing skimpy lingerie 👀

Ofc doing it incorrectly again so it doesn't hold him 😈

- @eddiesprincess86

A Little Surprise - E.M.

As always, MINORS DNI. I will use this 🤨🪗

Pairing - Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Prompt in the ask

Warnings - Use of petnames (princess, little one, darling, good/pretty girl, whore), a few pussy smacks, oral (f recieving), split tongue, Overstimulation, slight body worship, degradation, praise, spit (not in the mouth this time, maybe next time), Dacryphilia, roughness (reminder that demon Eddie is big and strong and can seismic toss you if he so pleases), Multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), let me know if I missed any!!

There is no age regression in this fic, but additional warning for the use of "Little One" as a petname. This is meant to be used in a size difference way.

A/N I loved this, I had to write it. I hope this is good, I appreciate the request. 💞 Y'all started me on Demon!Eddie, and now I can't stop. Once again, please do NOT try to summon the demons. They will not be as nice as this one. I know, I'm sad about it too. An atrocity of epic proportions.

If anyone wants more Demon!Eddie, feel free to send in prompts for fics/blurbs 🥰

Part 1 - A Little Summoning

You weren't even trying to make the trap look realistic this time, just throwing down random shapes to make it look like you tried. It didn't have to look perfect, it just needed to seem real at a glance. Your favorite demon has been MIA for the past few days, and you're feeling... needy, to put it lightly. He was busy, you understood that, but he hasn't been gone for this long since you first summoned him.

Sitting around your room wasn't doing you any good. You tried listening to music, reading, going outside, making yourself feel good - nothing would keep you busy long enough to get your mind off of him. He granted you freedom and all the money you could possibly ask for to live and do what you wanted, but that didn't stave off the loneliness. A few days felt like an eternity when you were alone, so here you were.

You decided on staying in your room this time, staying close to a bed in the hopes that he'd use it. The windows are open, letting a soft breeze come through. The hem of the new babydoll lingerie you bought for the occasion fluttered slightly. You felt pretty, dolled up to the nines for your demon. You'd learned his name was Eddie, and you felt it fit him.

A thrum of excitement ran through your body, settling between your legs. You walked around the circle, similar to the way you did the first time you did this, to light the candles. He taught you how to summon specifically him for emergencies, which included a few more steps than last time.

You brought out your summoning bowl, already prepared with the ingredients Eddie left in it. All that was left was fire. You knelt on the ground next to the circle, using a match to light the contents of the bowl. You paused to wonder if Eddie would be angry with you for summoning him for a non-emergency. You could call him instead, he gave you his phone number. The thought quickly left your mind as you reminded yourself why you were doing this. This was quicker.

You dropped the match into the bowl, sealing your fate as you began to recite the summoning spell. A familiar fog rose from the floorboards, sending a chill down your spine. You quickly ducked your head in a bow.

"Princess? Are you ok?" His fierce and commanding tone spread warmth between your legs, causing the wet patch on the front of your panties to grow. He sounded as though he was worried about you. Your head quickly shot up, meeting his eyes.

"What is this? Are you... are you trying to trap me?" His voice was shocked at first, darkening towards the end of his sentance. You shifted on your knees to relieve some of the ache in your pussy from how hard it was throbbing. He took a step towards you.

"Yeah, I did. I wanted something so attempt number two." Your voice came out light and not as cocky as you wanted it to.

"I don't even have to look at it, I can feel that you didn't do it right." He stepped over the circle. Your body grew hot as memories from the last time flashed through your mind. "I guess someone didn't learn their lesson the first time, huh? Anything you want to say for yourself, little one?" This demeanor always felt like a challenge. Like he wanted you to get sassy, to be bratty to him.

"Well, maybe my teacher isn't very good at his job." You knew you were pushing it, hoping it pushed him exactly where you wanted him. He bent down, grabbing you by your upper arm and yanking you up before moving to grip your face.

"Or, maybe you just don't know how to listen." His eyes were glowing as they bore into you, making you shake in his hold. You knew he wouldn't harm you, but your heart beat faster. He towered over you by over a foot, wide shoulders squared, shadow completely covering you. You stood on your tippy toes to provide some relief to your jaw. His grip wasn't tight enough to hurt, but it was firm enough to be uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry?" He smirked at you like he knew what you were doing, trying to recreate the scenario from your first night together. He leaned down until you were nose to nose, feeling his breath fan on your face.

"We're going to have to work on that lying, little one." His hands reached out to loop his claws under the straps on your shoulders. With a slight tug, he tore your new garmet, effectively leaving you in just your panties as it dropped to the ground. You audibly gasped, stepping back to glance at your ruined lingerie.

"Eddie, that was new!" Your voice went up an octave, slightly irritated that he destroyed it the first night you actually got to wear it. He didn't even say anything about how pretty it looked before he broke it.

"Darling, that thing was standing in the way of what I desire." You let out a huff, crossing your arms and jutting out your bottom lip at his careless words. He sighed heavily at your stance. "And I can buy you the same one in all different colors if that's what you wish. Money is a trivial concept to me, and I love spoiling my princess."

Your bottom lip didn't receed and your arms stayed firm across your chest, pushing your bare breasts higher. You weren't satisfied with his response. He stepped into your space once again, leaving kisses down your face, leading to your lips but never touching them like you wanted. Instead, he trailed down to your neck, mouthing at the spot that - as he'd quickly learned - made you weak in the knees.

"If it's any consolation, you looked absolutely ravishing. I couldn't help myself, I love it when you dress up for me. Unfortunately, every present has to be unwrapped, and I'm not the kind to peel the tape and save the wrapping paper." He spoke in between kisses as you tipped your head back to give him more access. He grazed his teeth gently over the same spot he'd been working at. Your knees buckled, hands flying out to grip his shirt for purchase. His hands moved to settle just under your ass, pulling you up into his mouth as he continued his assault.

You whined and whimpered as he left a hicky, nipples hardening with how they were pushing against the rough material of his t-shirt. The touch on the backs of your thighs felt hot, electricity burning from the contact. His claws dug softly into your skin just enough to tickle but not enough to break the skin. His mouth moved to yours, finally kissing you with a dizzying passion. One of his thighs slotted between yours as he pushed you back against the wall, and suddenly, you wished he would rip your panties off too.

His hands moved to your hips, pulling you closer to him. The sweet drag of his denim jeans against your clothed pussy made you moan into his mouth. You ground down on his thigh, chasing the pleasurable pressure on your clit. The grip on your hips tightened to halt your movements. You let out a frustrated groan at the interruption.

"You're still in trouble, little one. Did you think there would be no consequences for your actions?" His words made you flush. You struggled against his hold, but it was no use; He was much stronger than you, holding you still as he wanted you.

"This doesn't feel like I'm in trouble." Your hand snaked between your bodies, grabbing at his hard cock through his jeans. He growled, snatching your wrists up in one hand and turning you around to move you to the bed.

"It's about to." He pushed you onto the bed, flipping you onto all fours and kneeling behind you before pressing a hand between your shoulder blades to push your face into the mattress. You released a muffled squeal as he ran his hand over your mound before landing a slap to it. You tried to close your legs and squirm away, but he gripped your thighs, opening them wide.

His finger dipped between your lips, pressing your panties gently into your clit before circling it. You raised your hips and arched your back to meet his soft touch. His hand moved away from you before landing another slap to your clit. You pitched forward, letting out an animalistic groan as you tried to close your legs once again, only to be stopped by his own pinning them open. He landed one more harsh smack before pausing and flipping you over, hiking your legs up on his shoulders.

"Does it feel like you're in trouble now, or do you need more?" He lightly scratched up and down the back of your thighs as your body twitched. Your eyes had squeezed shut from the sting, staying closed as you shook your head rapidly.

"No more, please." It came out as a whimper, a pout gracing your lips at the thought. You opened your eyes just in time to see him put his hair up into a bun before his head dipped between your thighs. He pushed your panties to the side and flicked his tongue soothingly over your clit. Your jaw dropped open with a breathy moan as he continued, switching between swirling his tongue around your bud and flicking it over the slit.

He dipped down under your leaking hole to lick a trail from there to right above your clit. Your toes curled from the pleasure as you attempted to buck up into his mouth, but he held you still with one arm across your hips. His tongue pushed past the ring of your entrance, exploring inside you like it was his mission. Even his tongue could reach the places your fingers couldn't, being unnaturally long and flexible. Suddenly, his head popped up from between your legs, making you whimper in protest.

"Wanna see a magic trick?" His face was broken out in a devilish grin, and you couldn't think of what magic trick he could possibly want to show you... until he stuck out his tongue, and it split in two. You gasped, pushing your hips down into his hold. "Pretty neat trick, right?" With that, he dove back into you, pushing his tongue past your rim and stretching you open.

You squealed at the feeling of it pressing against both walls, not used to the feeling. He moved back up to circle and pinch at your clit with the split appendage. Your high was approaching rapidly, sputtered breaths and a combination of noises leaving your throat.

"Cum for me, darling." He moaned into you, as if he was enjoying this just as much as you were. The thought pushed you over the edge, shaking in his hold as he licked you through it. He didn't stop once you finished, though. His free hand moved down to join his tongue, fingers dipping into you and stretching you further as you shuffled from the overstimulsting feeling.

"Be a good girl and be still for me, yeah?" He pushed your hips down a little harder and nipped at your nub to get his point across. You stilled your wiggling as much as you could to obey his demand.

He quickly found your sweet spot, doing a 'come hither' motion to stroke it while he glided across your puffy nub. Your second orgasm washed over you unexpectedly, crashing through you and causing your body to jerk uncontrollably. He pulled his fingers away, but his head stayed in place. You pushed at his head, desperately trying to get him to stop, but he was too busy lapping the cum from your hole.

When he finally pulled away, you could see both his cheeks and chin glistening with your wetness. He used the front of his t-shirt to wipe it off, pulling it over his head and tossing it before leaning in for a kiss. You could taste your sweet and salty mixture on his tongue, along with his usual flavor.

"We're not finished yet, princess." Your body was still processing your last orgasm as he pushed his pants and boxers down, kicking them off and onto the floor. He gently hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties to pull them down, leaving kisses on your thighs as he went.

"So fucking perfect for me, pretty girl." His lips continued kissing and nipping their way back up, starting at your ankle and leading up to your hips. He stopped to suck a love bite where your panties normally sat, and you let out a shaky breath as you melted under him. He stopped again at your breasts to give them some attention, too. His tongue poked out to lick a few firm stripes from just below your nipples to the swell below your collarbone on both of your boobs before picking one to focus his mouth on. He left open mouth kisses on the pebbled nub, moving his hand to rub pinch the other between his fingers.

You arched into his touch, running your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. He switched to give the same treatment to each side of your chest before sucking another love bite on the curved top of your breast. He slowly moved up to plant another kiss on your lips.

"Always such a good little whore for me." His claw stroked the side of your face from temple to jaw, sending shivers down your spine. He reached behind you to grab a pillow, lifting your hips and shoving it under your lower back to lift you. "Be a good girl and open wide, knees to your chest."

You scrambled to comply, opening your legs and looping your hands behind your knees to pull them to your chest. He leaned over your pussy for a moment before letting his spit dribble from between his lips. You hissed at the cool feeling on your hot clit, wiggling slightly as he rubbed it in with his tip before lining his cock up with your entrance.

A content sigh escaped your lips as he pushed his head past your entrance, turning into a clipped gasp as he pushed all the way in. Even though you've had him quite a few times, you never got used to the stretch or the feeling of him so deep inside of you. It was like heaven, being so full of him.

He started slow, gently pulling in and out of you, leaning down to brace his forearms on either side of your head. The bush at the base of his cock ran over your clit with each thrust, scratching it in the best way. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, clinging to him while you savored the way his hips moved against yours. His mouth met yours to swallow your sounds as he pushed into you deeper.

His pace didn't speed up, but his hips started pushing into you harder. His mouth moved down to your neck, kissing and sucking hickies into it before biting down gently. You let out a half scream, half moan at this, and he smirked against your skin.

"You make such pretty sounds for me, princess." He lifted his head to cup your jaw, rubbing soothingly as hot tears streamed down your face. "It's such a shame to have to punish you, but you look so pretty when you cry for my cock." His hand reached between your bodies, rubbing at your clit with two fingers and pushing you closer to the edge.

He kissed all over your face as you stared to come undone. You cried out from the intense pleasure of cumming for a third time, and you had a feeling it wasn't the last. Your feelings were confirmed when you finally came down from your high and he flipped you over onto your stomach.

"I can't take anymore." Your voice was rough and scratchy from all of the moaning and screaming you'd been doing. His hand rubbed up your back soothingly, lightly scratching to relax you.

"One more, little one. Gotta make sure you learn your lesson." You whimpered as he lined himself up with your entrance once again, pushing into you with ease this time because of the slick from your cum. He wasn't gentle this time, immediately setting a rough pace that had his balls slamming against your clit. You jolted with each tap, trying to squirm away. You would be able to get away if he didn't have such a tight hold on your hips.

"Oh, god." You groaned as he changed positions, ramming into your sweet spot.

"Not quite, darling. Wrong direction, not that you can actually think to know that right now." His hips continued their assault, slamming into your backside with each thrust. His hands held you in a bruising grip, pulling you back in tandem with his pace.

Your vision began to blur as the pleasure built in your core. It was too much, but it felt so good. Your gut twisted harshly when his fingers made contact with your clit again, making you scream into the pillow beneath you.

"Come on, princess. Cum with me." He grunted as you tightened around him, both of you reaching your highs at the same time. His spurts coated your walls as your rhythmic squeezing milked him dry.

You were floating, feeling like you were on a cloud as he collapsed next to you, pulling you into his chest. You could feel the tears still streaming down your face and onto his skin. Your whole body was spent and sensitive, covered in sweat but slowly cooling with the breeze still coming through the open window.

"Did you draw... hearts and penis shapes on our bedroom floor for the entrapment spell?" You giggled, shoving your face further in his chest.

"Darn, no wonder it didn't work." He kissed the top of your head, chest shaking slightly as he chuckled.

"Yeah, no wonder." He paused as though he was contemplating his next words. "I hope you learned your lesson this time. Summoning is for emergencies only." You nodded, but he wasn't satisfied with your answer. His hand lifted your jaw to look at you with lifted brows. "I mean it. Next time I won't be nice. You have my phone number for non-emergencies."

"I understand, lesson learned." He smiled and kissed the tip of your nose, pulling you back into his chest to cuddle you. "... but what if it's a horny emergency?" He sighed at your words.

"Try it, see what happens. I dare you."

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