singmyaubade - Tumblr blog

singmyaubade · 2 months

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read this right now, im not playing with y’all.

𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | 1989, and Eddie Munson has branded himself the playboy of Indianapolis... particularly to your best friend, Winnie Ambrose. Finally sick of being manipulated by his eight inch cock, Winnie looks to you to take down the man. It was simple: make him fall in love, and break his heart. Only, is it ever really simple?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, arguments, mentions of alcohol/ alcohol consumption, some rude friends, mentions of insecurities, a lot of disrespect and gross behavior (fuckboy-ary), I don't know how to tag this, but Eddie literally runs into traffic, not in a "I wanna die" type of way, but... you'll see, and explicit sexual content: mentions of sex toys, fondling, mentions of sex, and oral (male receiving).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Prepared to be grossed out, you're not like other girls. Also, I need y'all to seriously envision Cher and Dionne making over Tai from Clueless in one particular scene in this... just a lil more chaotic, por favor. Also, Reader over here is making latte art! I don't drink coffee, so it's probably wrong, but that's not on me (it is). Oh, and some John Tucker Must Die/ The Notebook references!

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞: 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐀-𝐍-𝐎-𝐍-𝐘-𝐌-𝐎-𝐔-𝐒

It didn’t match. For the fifth time in a row, the piece didn't match.

You huffed, flinging the illustrated paperboard piece to the once organized pile of others alike, as your back felt the relief of falling against the fluff of your carpet. Stupid puzzle. The clock breached 11:07 p.m, and as promised, something bad was bound to happen for your lack of completion by midnight.

Why you set yourself up for failure, you don’t know. But the premise of speaking potential consequences into the universe seemed to be your only motivation in life at the moment. And it, too, was a fun game. One that had your back aching against the four hours of stationary sitting on your floor, as your fingers cramped to piece together one thousand segments of the world map. Though, at this given moment, you were losing hope in Africa ever gaining its southern countries, and Asia was a lost cause.

Your eyes twirled to the low oscillation of your ceiling fan. What if it just fell? At least it’d give you a moment of excitement. Something to finally say when thirty pairs of eyes would scrutinize you during the horrific experience of ice-breakers, before the mortifying revelation would dawn upon you that you really were just… boring.

Your fingers dug into the sockets of your eyes. One harsh sufficient rub was enough to cut whatever impeding yawn short. You still had fifty-three minutes, and if the past twenty-one years of good deeds meant anything, maybe the universe would lighten up and spare you of any reprimand for the non fulfillment of puzzle promises.

Your head turned. Hey, what do you know, there was Yugoslavia under your bed all along-

“C’mon, c’mon, don’t got all day.” Your hair scrunched under the swift turn of your head, as you listened to the blatant disregard of respect, hearing your front door slam into shuttering vibrations.

A scoff. An all too familiar scoff. “Geez, Eddie, way to a get a girl goin’.” Winnie Ambrose.

Your face contorted in despair, with quiet gruffs of whines softly pleading to yourself. “Please go to the bedroom, please go to the bedroom, pl-”

“Just do it right here, seriously, got no time, baby.” Oh, no. Suddenly, you were slapping yourself silly for the stupid mistake of not investing in headphones. And as much as you could try to muster, the completion of Angola would not be satisfactory enough to distract from the lewd noises that defiled your living room couch. “Yeah, yeah, put it in your mouth, go on, finally shut you up.”

Your endeavors prompted you to the cushioning of your bed, where you found the will to rather die of asphyxiation under the thickness of your pillows, than listen to the onslaught of moans that were about to proceed the thinness of your apartment walls. Four hundred thirty-seven a month to have your ears violated by the uncomfortable noises of your best friend and her weekly endeavors.

His voice hummed faintly. “Mm, yeah, just like you fucking know how to do it.” A month of cohabitation with Winnie Ambrose brought you the glorious gift of Eddie Munson, an enigma. There was never a face painted to the stumper that was Eddie Munson, but the details alone left your mind spiraling to the paradox of a man that infested your friend’s life.

“Like that?”

“Sh, sh, no talking, just suck.” Your face scowled.

Should the night go as it always does, Winnie would have her rendezvous, his heavy footsteps would proceed with a quick leave, her shouting voice of insults would follow before the slam of the front door silenced her, and her tears of complaints would flow down your shoulder.

For a man like that, you had viable reason to believe he’d never step foot back into your apartment, and yet, every week proved you wrong. Her constant, “god, I could just kill him, do you know how much of an asshole he is?!” would presumably follow up with an, “okay, I know what you’re thinking, don’t give me that look, it’s just this one time!”

It never was just one time.

Eddie Munson had the chokehold of a python on Winnie Ambrose… and apparently a third of Indianapolis’ female population. Though, where you could criticize her for her poor choices, you could also applaud her in the fact that she even had a choice to begin with. Her Friday nights were actually spent living her youth with the liveliness of freedom, whilst you were evidently stuck being “piece” maker for the United Nations.

No guy was ever making you a choice.

But you know, it’s not like you couldn’t be a choice. Yeah, you totally could be. You just… you know, had to put yourself out there more. You weren’t totally invisible. People acknowledge you, like in high school! There was always a polite ‘m’sorry’ to come whenever shoulders were knocked in the crowdedness of halls. Granted, it’s not like any of those people ever knew your name. That notion was really cemented when watching teachers wrack their brains on the potential name you owned after seeing your hand raised, settling on that ‘miss’ that followed you around for four years. But you were totally there. Otherwise they would have never called on you. Then again, it’s not like anyone else in class ever raised their hand.

There. Perceived. Maybe even acknowledged. Just not known.

Just anonymous.

But maybe things worked best as such. Safe, at least. You’d been safe ever since you were seen. Actually seen. Seen by him. Or, you thought he saw you. Your eyes scrunched at memories that felt too vivid for the years it had been since they transpired in reality. But as quick as your eyes were to close, they shot open against the abrasive clash of glass splattering against the floor. “Winnie.”

Your legs worked before your brain, jostling you out of the comfort of your bed to swing your bedroom door open to the expanse of your living room. “God, you are such a pig!” Couch pillows of ammunition went flying into the arms of the figure before you, his back turned to you to catch the onslaught of fluffy attacks. “You’re just a no, good, lying scumbag! Ugh!” Hurling over his shoulder, you ducked to avoid the incoming stuffed bullet.

His boots crunched against shattered glass. “Christ, you’re fucking crazy, would you fucking relax?!” His smirk—unbeknownst to you—only spawned that thumping vein in Winnie’s forehead to accentuate; a sick pride in being able to elicit this reaction from her. “Call me all the fucking names you want, you were still desperate enough to suck me off.”

“AH! GET OUT!” Her still-heeled feet stomped to shove him back. Nothing but his sinister laughter echoed against the clash of her vocal frustrations, as he let her ardent pushes barely sway him from his stance. “You piece of shit!” Having gotten everything he needed for the night, Eddie took to her persistent shoves, and turned on his heels. All energy lost for his time. “GO!” In a split second, his eyes caught yours, and the sight of his face hit you like a ton of bricks. That was Eddie Munson. Nothing but confusion lingered upon your face, as the tense air became tainted by the complaints of Winnie. “I’m never calling you again, you dickhead! Get out!” His legs, for once, stumbled to her strength, and you watched his eyes fall to the length of your body, before the slam of your front door vanished his existence.

Winnie huffed. Her back straightened against the door handle, breath regulating, throat clearing, and hands pushing away unruly hair.

You stared in awe. “What the hell was that?” You implored.

“That asshole is to never step foot into this apartment again.” Wide eyed crazy, her finger came pointing at you. “I mean it, Y/N, if I so much as speak his name, you need to slap me straight.”

“Okay, but do you wanna explain what the hell happened, why our vase is shattered on the ground?! Winnie, our vase! My vase!” Thirty-seven bucks wasted on that antique shop. So gaudy, yet so beautiful. Tragic.

Your face frowned. “That asshole happened!” Winnie groaned, raking harsh fingers through the length of her auburn extensions. “God, I’m over here giving him the best head of his life,” your face scrunched in disgust, “and that asshole has the nerve to forget my name. My name?!”

Your shoulders deflated under the pretense of a disappointed parent. “So, what?! You took it out on my vase?! Win, come on, you’ve been saying the worst thing about this guy for a month, what were you expecting?”

“Y/N, for the love of God, I bumped into it.” She deadpanned. “And you know what, I ask myself the same damn thing, god, I’m so stupid!” She plopped onto the couch. “That bastard knows exactly what he’s doing,” an incredulous laugh rips through her throat, “sweet-talking girls, getting in their pants, only to stutter out some bullshit name that isn't yours- god, Y/N, he called Therese!” She gagged. “That bitch who works on 4th Avenue East, he’s fucking her, too!”

So sullen. “My vase.”

“He’s not getting away with this.” Winnie stood on sore feet and knees, a stern finger directed at you, as if you suddenly became the perpetrator. “Something, c’mon, I gotta think of something to get that piece of shit back.”

“How ‘bout stop speaking to him?”

“No!” Her whines viciously penetrated your ears. “I have to make him suffer! God, for all the shit he puts us girls through, he has to pay!” You watched her face cinch with perplexity to the ideas her mind was too tipsy to conjure. The advice of letting it go was burning at the tip of your tongue, but too hard-headed to accept, you knew your words would be dismissed for a punishment up to par to Winnie Ambrose’s standards. “Ugh, I’ll think of something later.” She gave up. “But right now, I’ve gotta make an order.”

Her ankles turned with the thickness of heels, and you watched her stomp off into the direction of her bedroom. “Order what?”

“A vibrator. I’m done with men.” Liberation.

You sighed. “My vase.”

“Um… hm, um…”

Your eyes discreetly rolled, an impatient finger repeatedly tapping the end of your pen; a click for how close your sanity was thinning. “Sir, I can come back whenever you’re re-”

“Just a moment, um…”

Your back straightened with frustration. The sheets of your notepad wrinkled under the humid perspiration of your hands, as your entertainment was now left with nothing more than to mindlessly wander your gaze about, as the customer before you took waitstaff a little too seriously for your liking. On cue, the alerting bell of the front entrance piqued your interest, where your eyes widened at the sight of his familiar silhouette, and suddenly the elderly customer taking his sweet time became more of a priority.

“How ‘bout a cappuccino? Cappuccino sound good? Great! I'll grab that cappuccino for you!” Rushing behind the counter, you discreetly watched him take his usual place. Back corner, by the window. Eddie Munson’s chair- or what was formerly known: cute guy with the long hair’s chair.

“I-”

But, now, the events of last night had tainted the little crush that became your only source of motivation to show up to work every day to serve rude people, who didn’t have the skill set of self control to manage their crankiness before their morning cup of coffee.

Suddenly, everything clicked.

From the first moment you saw him, your eyes lingered on the strut of confidence that defined his nature; dark and mysterious, claiming his chair with a notebook that never left his hand. You never would have expected “your” guy to actually have been Winnie’s guy, and apparently the majority of other women’s guy. You should have seen it sooner. When one day, a frown etched upon your face seeing your crush waltz in with a girl in hand, presumably a girlfriend. But when said girl never accompanied him again, that smile was right back on your face.

Until the cycle continued. Repeatedly. Numerously.

And yeah, maybe the obvious signs of Eddie Munson being the biggest player was slapping you right in the face, but nothing could touch that idealized fantasy you’d like to curate. What the hell else was supposed to make the hours go by? It’s not like it was anything serious. Just a crush. Like Timmy Plyth in the eighth grade, after lending you a much needed pencil. God forbid someone was nice to you, you’d plan out both your futures together. Delusional sure, but the sincerity of it all was never a foundation. Suddenly, watching Timmy Plyth overly use the word ‘bro’ was enough to have your insides cringing, and quickly, he was nothing.

Eddie Munson was nothing.

So, it was effortless for you to easily chalk up the array of beautiful women by his side as second cousins coming to visit, though, the flirtatious way he’d play with their hair was surely too gross; perhaps an innocent friend looking for a catch up, then again, there was nothing innocent about the way his lips would glue to hers; or hell, maybe a first date gone bad, because he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the waitress that took his breath away, though Eddie Munson had never once actually looked at you.

Until, he did.

Tuesday, three weeks ago, had been a particularly gloomy evening, with regulars skipping their usuals to avoid the downpour of dark clouds over city skylines. Quiet and peaceful, the coffeehouse hummed with the white noises of pages turning from worn books and lips sipping upon the enriching black warmth that filled colorful mugs. Like clockwork, his boots squelched with wetness, a leather jacket clinking against metal, water droplets that refused to soak up the material, and his notebook in hand.

Though, this time alone.

Taking his designated seat in the back, you located your coworker who adorned that customer service smile, as she busied herself elsewhere. Your nervous hands rubbed against your waist apron, as you quietly approached him.

The scrape of his pencil against the pages tickled your ear, as his scent collided with the deep coffee beans and baked goods that surrounded you. Bats. Scribbled and sketched against the great expanse of drawings that tied to the plethora of words that creatively polluted the once blank canvas.

“Those, uh, those are nice drawings.”

His head spun to yours, and your soft smile allowed a matching one to invade his face. “Uh, thanks… yeah, thanks, they’re not really, y’know, anything special.” At the time, your innocent heart pattered at his obvious gaze that lingered too intently to be ever “just friendly,” though now, your stomach turned at the realization that something more impure was causing those dimples to flaunt. A smile so devilish it sickly resembled his… Dalto- “But, uh, means a lot coming from you.” Barf. You should have told him to fuck off, now knowing what you know.

But your lovesick mind shyly giggled and flushed your cheeks with heat. “Just because you don’t think they’re special doesn’t mean they aren’t great. Seriously, they are. A-And why does it mean a lot coming from me?” Your brow pointed.

“Nice people give out genuine compliments.” His shoulders shrugged like it was simple. “See you given’ that lady and her baby free food all the time, no? That’s you.”

He has seen you. “Oh, yeah, Margaret, she’s, um, super sweet, lives in my building. Times are just a little hard for her s’all, so I don’t mind having a couple sandwiches taken out of paycheck for her.”

“Yeah, see, nice. You wouldn’t lie to me.” Eddie stated factually, face hardened, no longer brandishing whatever smirk he played to swoon his next hookup.

Such stoicism left you confused in the wake of a brief ten second quietness. Perhaps you had misread that first interaction, and he had no interest in pursuing you. Wouldn’t be the first time. Sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. “Um, so, w-what would you like to order, sorry?”

“Just a latte will do if that’s fine.” He gave a light smile your way, as your head nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah, yeah, of course, I’ll have that right out for you, sir.” Your feet moved with no thought, mentally cursing yourself for the embarrassment of referring to him as an older man. And you heard those airy chuckles of amusement huff through his nose, dissipating in the wind, as you made your escape. But you’d become oblivious to the round eyes that softly stuck to your swaying body, adorned in the combination of rain boots and skirt that had his fingers painting the pages of his notebook with a particular figure in rain boots and skirt.

Steamed milk had an interesting way of gluing the fabric of your shirt to your skin with the humidity that matched that of the sticky drizzle outside. Like watercolors, the cedar espresso collided with pearl milk, and with a quick glance to your left, his broadened back met you, as his arm flexed to the rhythm of his drawing.

Creamy foam met the tawny caffeine, and your barista skills concocted a small bat to ripple into his latte. Sufficed with your art, you gently maneuvered your way to his direction, where the delicate clicks of your small pumps informed your arrival.

But before Eddie could muster out any form of conversation, you dropped off your service with a polite, “enjoy your drink,” to save you from the inevitable embarrassment your mouth would spew.

But as you looked back, you watched the phlegmatic corners of his lips turn to a genuine smile at the sight of your curated artwork… for him.

“Seeing Miss Long Legs now, huh?”

The bustling cacophony of the crowded coffeehouse snapped you back to reality. “Huh?” You looked at your coworker.

Your eyes caught sight of the wedges that announced themselves to the tall woman, so modelesque, with a sundress that complimented her complexion. “Save yourself the trouble, and don’t involve yourself with that man.” Maude, grabbing a lemon-raspberry muffin for the man across the counter, grumbled under her breath.

“What? Oh, no, I’m not, like- I was just zoning out, sorry.” You resumed your position to formulate an unwanted cappuccino, as your eyes slyly peered to the intimate greeting Eddie shared with the beautiful woman.

“Right, well, still, sooner or later, that man is gonna swoon you over whenever you get the chance to wait on him, and it’s gonna be really tempting to say yes, but you better say no.” Your brows furrowed. Eddie Munson hadn’t explicitly made a move on you. Were you really that unappealing that even he didn’t want you? God, how pathetic were you to stoop that low? “It’s what he does. Works you up, get you all flustered, takes you out on some cheap date, but makes up for it with the love bombing, and before you know it, he’s got you right where he wants you: his bed.” Her gum smacked to the intensity of her accent.

“Yeah, uh, I bet. My roommate, she, uh, kinda had a thing with him.” You grimaced.

Maude laughed, her gold jewelry jingling to the waves of her expression. “Oh, no, honey, Eddie Munson doesn’t do “things.” That’s what he makes you believe, but soon you realize he never actually had feelings for you.”

Your stomach plummeted at her words, an overwhelming sense of discomfort suddenly hitting. Memories. Bad ones. You sucked in a heavy breath, and attempted to blink away the negative pictures that began infesting your mind. “Oh. Um, how do you know?”

You worriedly watched her face contort into anguish. “Oh, y’know-” her voice cracked, tears brimming her eyes, “just heard around.” The muffin became mush in her hand, as she ran into the back. The awaiting customer blankly stared at you.

Eddie Munson was Dalton Barron.

And you wouldn’t go down that road again.

Blisters had been bubbling on your feet. Seven hours and thirty minutes of standing left you contrite on this morning’s choice of attempting to be stylish by breaking in your new flats—all too cute not to be worn. Coffee had stunk itself into your hair, and you were verging on the brink of tears after a shift of being yelled at, after the inevitable occurred when you misheard a customer's eight step instruction to their frappe. And to make matters worse, your key was taking too long to slot into the doorknob.

But the clashing of brassy metals that clung from your keychain announced themselves before you could, alerting your very own kidnapper to haul you into your apartment, with a purity ring—for the sake of her—that dug into the skin of your arm. “I got it!”

You swore your wrist popped with the pull Winnie had on you, as she dragged you into the space of her bedroom. “Got what- wait, if it’s this new vibrator you were talking about, I don’t wanna-”

“No, it’s not a vibrator!” You dropped with a bounce on her bed, as her hands shoved themselves upon your shoulder. “That doesn’t come till Wednesday.” She collected herself straight. “Anyways, I got it, I got my revenge plan! You know, for Eddie?”

Your fingers pushed themselves into your temple, as your eyes felt too heavy for this conversation. “Oh, Winnie…”

“I’m serious, Y/N, I’ve got the perfect plan!”

“You know, he actually came by the coffeehouse, met up with this really pretty girl-”

“Ugh, what a slut.” Winnie grumbled with disgust, a deeply offensive eye roll to pair, as well. “God, I swear, that penis is going to fall right off, and then he’ll truly be left with nothing.” She sighed, fluffing her hair from her face. “But back to business, Y/N, I… am going to ruin his manhood.”

You dryly blinked. “...By making his penis fall off…?”

“No!” Her petulant mewl came with a frustrated stomp that made your giggle. “By making him fall in love!” That look never left your face, in fact, worsened to the oddity of her scheme. “Stop looking at me like that, I’m serious! We have to make him fall in love!”

You incredulously chortled. “I thought the whole Eddie Munson thing was not falling in love? And wait a minute, you promised not to speak to him anymore, I don’t want to have to slap you, Winnie.”

“I’m not going to do it, you are!”

You promptly stood from the bed, matching her height with an urgency in your eye that challenged her crazy ones. “I am not talking to Eddie Munson, are you insane?!”

“No, but you have to!” Winnie desperate beseeched. “Y/N, c’mon, do this for me! Just hear me out, okay? You don’t actually have to, like, y’know, date him. Just lead him on! It’s that ego of his, we have to crush his ego!”

“Winnie,” you sighed, “Eddie wouldn’t even go for me-”

“Of course, he would! You’re hot shit!” Your face dropped entirely unconvinced. “And Eddie’s totally going to see that when you go to his gig tonight.”

“I’m not going to anyone’s gig tonight!”

“Hold on, wait! Before you say no…” Winnie stopped your incoming decline with a cold finger hoisted to your lips to hush your words, before she childishly scampered her way into the closet. Rummaging through the mountain of clothes she was adamant to hang up yesterday, her hands finally grappled onto her last hope. “Okay, ready? Ta-da!”

So sensationally lurid, with yellows, greens, and purples that didn’t match not one bit. So tacky it was beautiful. Your hands grabbed for it. “My vase!”

“Ah- no!” So offended, your mouth dropped, as Winnie denied you the right to receive your child. “You can only get this,” waving the delicacy around to taunt you, “if you agree to go to the gig tonight.”

You scoffed. Well played. “T-That is, like, literal coercion.”

“C’mon, look, Eddie’s got a big thing with pride, okay? I highly doubt that man’s ever seen rejection in life, so, when he expects all the girls to be flaunting themselves at him, he’ll see that everyone is except you.” Winnie was beginning to get that crazy look in her eyes. “Eddie’s gonna want what he can’t have, so, he’ll automatically go for you! But you, Y/N, you’re stronger than I am, and you are going to turn him down in every which way, only giving a little and taking away, until he is some desperate, little puppy following you around. And then, he’ll finally, FINALLY understand what it's like. Asshole…”

Winnie puffed her chest, catching her breath, as her hands fervently clutched to your vase. You could see it in her face how desperate she was just to have him hurt, even if it was just a little bit. Just to feel what she and many other girls did, because of him. You sighed. “Winnie, he’s not going to look at me.”

Without a word, she shoved the vase into your hands, before marching into her closet once more, where hangers scraped against the rack, as Winnie aggressively shuffled through the array of clothes she possessed. Retrieved was a dress of angelic white satin and lace that cascaded just enough to save you from a public indecency charge. “Not if you wear this!” She beamed.

Beauty is pain came with such candor.

“God, Winnie, he’s not seeing my underwear, why do I have to wear these?” So tight and lodged in the crevices of your lady parts, disturbing you to no avail. “It’s about feeling sexy! If you feel sexy, you’ll exude sexy!” The next travesty to come came in the form of said dress, by a sadistic designer who found much gratification in the torture of stomachs through the depths of lustrous material hell. With a corset to secure, Winnie was hoisting the attached strings into oblivion.

“C’mon, just suck in for me!” Her grip tightened around the lacing. “My lungs are going to explode if I suck in anymore!” You’d never felt your body more accentuated, with your boobs practically grazing your chin with how much Winnie was able to lift them with the right bra and a bruised rib cage.

And before you knew it, a suffocated squeal was burrowed out of your throat, when Winnie pushed your stiff body onto the softness of her bed. “Shoes, shoes, shoes! You need the perfect shoes!” Suddenly, strappy platforms of six inches were being shoved on your newly painted toes. “Hey, wait, slow down, Win, I’m gonna break an ankle, I don’t do anything over three inches.” But clasps were being secured around your ankles before your protest could be of any success. Winnie snorted. “Well, maybe that’s why you’re so uptight.” Your jaw dropped.

On the outskirts of Alcona Drive, under city lights and bustling traffic, a tattoo parlor sits next to a bar of proverbial rock and metal. Corroded Coffin play here every Saturday night. You were here Saturday night.

You clung to Winnie’s arm like a child, maneuvering through the sea of people who found vacancy in the open air parking lot for intermission breaks. With rough asphalt embedding itself to the outsoles of your heels, Winnie became your only support after bubbling anxiety worsened the wobble that an additional six inches to your height had had on you.

Had you been calm, you would have accepted the gentle zephyr of the night that now suddenly felt as though it was biting at your skin with the uneasiness of your tummy. As a compromise, Winnie, at least, gave you the grace of sporting a leather jacket to hide behind.

“Okay, just remember,” I.Ds flashed to the bouncer, “be cool and collected. Eddie’s not going to approach you if you’re fawning over him.”

“I’m not going to fawn over him.” Your body flinched at the rattle of conversations that mushed into deafening discordance that blared into your ear. Strobes of stage lights blew up your pupils, as you observed the Saturday night lives of people who found hedonistic liberation through buzzing music and weightless drinks.

Had your heart not sank to your ass, you would have understood why Winnie Ambrose loved going here.

But for you, your nails were sinking into the skin of Winnie’s arm, but she would endure the bitter sting, as long as it would appease your silent suffering. She was, in fact, the reason you were dragged here.

“Look, we’ll do a lap before we settle.” Winnie screamed into your ear.

Before you could question her motives, a drunken screech interrupted your train of thoughts. “Winnie!” You’d forgotten she had friends outside of you.

Your legs jostled at the strength of Winnie’s pull, hauling you to a group of strangers whose overpowering perfumes skirmished with the breaths of cocktails that lingered in their vicinity. Squeals of greetings were exchanged, as you timidly stepped back, watching what an actual social interaction was between people who had real lives.

“This is,” her jewelry-ridden hand clasped to your wrist, “this is Y/N!” Small smiles with the company of tiny waves and head nods was all that was proffered to you, and you wondered if Terry Werner’s unsolicited words of you being “standoffish” as the reason as to why you sat alone in the middle school cafeteria were actually true. Then again, you couldn’t fault Winnie’s friends for how quickly they turned away from you, when you stood with nothing but a precautious stare with lips so tightly inward. “Y/N, this is Janet! Janet’s dating Walker! This is Walker’s sister, Karey! Karey’s dating Danaisha! This is Peneolope! Oh, that’s Jaiden- uh, Jaiden’s roommates with Sebastian! And my friend Carly!” Abruptly, Winnie’s warm breath was fanning against your ear. “And Janet is secretly hooking up with Seb, so don’t say anything, because he’s also doing it with Pen, who quite literally just had a threeway with Jaiden and another girl, who happened to Danaisha’s ex, who she claims not to be hung up on, yet still frequently talks to behind Karey’s back, so...” God, is this what adulthood was?!

Perhaps you were the wrong person to tell, as a series of confused looks were thrown your way when your freshly plucked eyebrows—upon Winnie’s request—severely sold your face away to the unnerving settlement you earned from the incestuous ties that happen to hold this group together.

But their judgements didn’t hold for too long, as Winnie’s dramatic recollection of the past week left her friends violently ignoring your presence.

At an attempt to wave off the awkwardness you were certain people could feel, you faintly bobbed your head to the music that lowly vibrated from the speakers; an appeasement to bar goers who drunkenly waited for the performance intermission to pass.

Your eyes darted, jumping from corner to corner, swiftly locking eyes with strangers who maneuvered every which way. Your teeth began to anxiously gnaw into your glossed lips, as deep unsettlement bubbled in your belly at the realization your eyes were searching for a specific face, one’s who you truly had no business festering upon.

Winnie Ambrose was completely out of her mind if she even thought for a second Eddie Munson would fall for this.

This wasn’t self-deprecation. This was utter reality.

Heels of different heights, all styled to the zeitgeist of the blooming 90s, complimented the women of the bar so beautifully. So many kinds of smiles brightened the dimly lit setting, with colors brandishing their lips from enticing, deep plums to the beauty of a natural hue. With an array of bodies on display just for him, Eddie Munson wouldn’t even fathom the idea of you.

A guitar riff ripped through the dense air.

Drenched in the center spotlight, the blinding shine illuminated that signature smile that etched itself onto his face upon seeing the crowd flock to his feet. So below him. “Hope y’all had enough time to rest,” his voice buzzed, amplified into your ears, as his lips kissed the mic, “‘cause we’re about to put you through the fucking wringer!”

You watched Winnie roll her eyes in your peripheral, too accustomed with the aggression of cockiness that seemed to have every woman hollering at his command. Eyes scowling, lip twitching, and a hand searing its print onto your wrist, it became quite obvious that even the presence of Eddie Munson brought her anger.

Wrath, even.

There was no talking Winnie Ambrose out of this. She had a plan. And it was cemented.

Winnie Ambrose was taking Eddie Munson down.

And you were complicit.

His voice, so deep with husk it had beautiful women practically throwing themselves for his attention, caused a ripple of goosebumps to invade your skin. Something about Eddie Munson had caused a leach of perturbation to suck the life out of you. So dark, his eyes silently sang to the ladies below him, as nothing became more alluring than the sinister blackness that specialized each girl with eye contact so intimidating. If only they knew it meant absolutely nothing.

Every gaze. Every smirk. Every touch. Every lyric dedicated to the busty blonde with curly hair, or the sun-kissed beauty with a look so delicate.

It all meant absolutely nothing.

And Eddie Munson loved it.

Reveling in the control he had, nothing but a smile and wink to get whatever he wanted out of a desperate girl who urged him to make her feel good. And he did. Never a moment passes, where Eddie didn’t have a lady crying in rapture of his orgasmic touch. No matter the mind, no matter the body, Eddie Munson had a truly remarkable talent to blank the conscious of any thought, washing a woman’s worries away with his fingers, tongue, and cock, as his filthy voice kissed their ears with the sweet nothings that had them believing they were one of a kind.

But it was nothing but a ruse.

And they’d come to find that, as the once pleads to make them feel good, left them with tears staining the makeup he ruined. No one ever talks about the detriment of having your body used. Furthermore, no one talks about the utter humiliation of running back to the man that did so.

Nothing but a lousy phone call or run in at the club was enough to have you reeled back into his loving arms that were only loving for forty minutes, before they rejected you like you were nothing. And he affirmed it with a smile so sickening, as he watched the torment twist their face in disgust at his actions.

But not that it mattered, they’d be crawling right back at the snap of his fingers.

With a sudden yank, your heels were clicking to catch up with Winnie’s steps. “Hey, wait, what are you- what are you doing?!” Your voice barely became audible under the thunder of Corroded Coffin’s thrashing.

“C’mon, just follow my lead!” Was all she gave you to work with, before her aggressive hands were shoving strangers out of the way, until you made it into the front sea of men and women who handbanged their body to the clash of the music.

It didn’t take long for Eddie to make his usual way around the stage edge, where those desperately interested flaunted what they had to offer; breasts pooling from the hazard that was an overtly low-cut top—much to Eddie’s liking—or tongues hungrily circling their lips to potentially entice the metalhead for quickie.

And then there was you: stood gracelessly behind the stature of your friend, as you gawked at the foreignness of a Saturday night out.

It became inevitable when Eddie’s gaze fell upon Winnie, who you actually had to give props to, as she stood her ground with an ardent cross of her arms over her chest. A mocking wink was thrown against her scowl, but Winnie quickly graced him with a tight-lipped smile, as you watched with confusion. Her fingers waved in his direction, as his egotistical smirk grew wider.

Winnie Ambrose was a genius.

Flaunting a smile that had Eddie believing he was right back on her good side for another fuck. Eddie’s gonna want what he can’t have… having Winnie left you.

His eyes fell upon your figure, as his lips continued to serenade into the mic. “Walk away.” Winnie gritted next to you.

“What?” Your brows furrowed, unbeknownst to you, a look Eddie hadn’t expected.

“Just walk away. Now.”

Not wanting to be on the receiving end of Winnie’s wrath, your legs stumbled back until you found your footing, and left the crowd, as you strutted back to the bathrooms. Because what you failed to notice was Eddie Munson had glued his eyes to your disinterest, stuck to your descending silhouette, as his voice lowly sung to the women who screamed for him.

But all he saw was you.

The buzzing light fixture of a limeade yellow made it nearly impossible for the women of the bar’s bathroom to adequately reapply their makeup. You stood back, watching the delicate precision of lipstick to lips, tissue to eyeliner, and fingertips to skin.

So effortlessly pretty, you took your turn at the crowded mirrors, and followed the movements of every other girl to fix up your look. You quite liked the black liner that ran the perimeter of your eyes that Winnie had applied. She paired it so nicely with a shimmer that didn’t intimidate you, and, in fact, blossomed your eyes to a vivid awakeness.

But the perspired air had blinked your makeup to a light smear.

“Need some tissue?”

“What?”

Her cheeks plumped with a smile on her face. “Tissue? Don’t use the ones here.” Her head pointed to the brown tear of paper that lingered in the dispenser. “It’s rough, and it’ll probably cause you to contract herpes.” She joked, as her hand reached to extend you a sheet of soft tissue that came from its designated travel case from her purse.

“Thank you.” You gently smiled, as your finger cleared your eye of the blackened stain that darkened your undereyes.

“Girls night out or you bankin’ on seeing someone?” The rich brown lined her ample lips.

“Oh, uh, I guess both… kinda.” You meekly answered, as the tainted tissue disposed itself in the overflowing bin.

“Same, girl.” Her finger of a deep burgundy acrylic smoothed out the creaminess of her lip liner. “Desperately need to feel somethin’ tonight. See, after my ex, ugh, it’s been a dry spell. Tried that whole celibacy thing, but, nuh-uh, not for me, lemme tell you, it is not for the weak, y’know?”

Perhaps you were God’s strongest soldier then.

You dryly blinked a lie. “Y-Yeah, totally know… wh-what, uh, you mean.” You softly chuckled.

“God, and that front man up there with his little guitar.”

Your brows jumped into the creases of your forehead, as you blankly stared at her. “E-Eddie?”

“Yeah, you know him?” Her lips smacked the thick gloss with a pop.

“Uh, no, n-no, not really. Just, um, you know, heard of him, I guess.” You shrugged, as you eyed yourself in the murky mirror, fingers prodding at your face, as an excuse not to look at her.

“Oh, yeah.” She giggled, face coming up close to her reflection. “Everyone and their mother has ‘round here. But honestly, with a guy like that you just need’a put a leash on him, y’know? Eddie needs someone who’s not gonna put up with his bullshit, and when he sees that’s me, all these other girls will see they were never the one. And I plan on making him mine.”

You were royally fucked.

The tension—whether made up in your head or actually there—had fortunately been broken by Winnie bustling into the bathroom. “Ah! Did you see how well that worked?! Well, actually, you didn't, you were walking away, but it totally did!”

“Ha ha, okay, um, why don’t we head out, yeah?” You directed her to the bathroom door, not before flashing the beautiful girl a small smile, as she winked you goodbye. You were met with the generic music that was once blaring upon your first entrance, as you took notice of the now empty stage that left people to mingle around the bar. “Okay, what? What are you-”

“Eddie! He totally checked you out when you left! I told you this would work!” She geeked with the surprising ability to joyfully jump in five inch stilettos. “God, I wish you could have seen his face, Y/N, he was totally like ‘huh?’” You laughed at her over exaggerated facial expression. “He so wants you now.”

Winnie began guiding you back to the table of her friends. “See, um, Winnie, I think we may have run into a little problem. You know that girl in the bathroom, she’s totally gunning for-”

“Aye, your back!” Karey’s voice rang into a cheerful greeting… until her eyes landed upon you. “Oh, you, too.”

Oh. Leave it to you to be deduced to an oh.

Winnie dragged an obnoxiously loud chair—that didn’t help your attempt to potentially win her friends over—to the unwelcoming table, and patted you down. “Duh, of course, she’s here, she’s with me.” Winnie smiled a smile that did little to appease that burdening feeling that resided within you, though, you knew she was trying.

As the table fell into a conversation of inside jokes and personal stories that you had no clue about, and you found your eyes whisking away to the rowdiness around you. Had you actually caught the eyes of Eddie Munson, or had Winnie just been flattering you? Bless her, you know she feels a lot, but three years of friendship that felt like a lifetime taught you that her uniquely Winnie Ambrose mind had a knack for twisting events in favor of her.

Narcissism? No, not really. Perhaps crazed in the nicest way possible? Would you be a bad friend to say yes?

Her one sided relationship with Eddie Munson truly stamped itself as exhibit A. Then, of course, there was the whole sugar daddy incident, where Winnie swore up and down that the older gentleman on the train was about to make her rich. Turns out, his compliment about her shoes was solely based on the fact that his wife would love the same pair.

So maybe, just maybe, Winnie became an A.P Literature teacher’s favorite example of an unreliable narrator, as what she saw as a gaze of piqued interest from the metalhead was most likely a swift gaze that meant absolutely nothing.

Sudden voices erupted through the bar’s casual buzz, and you turned your head to the commotion, where the familiar members of Corroded Coffin marked their way through the crowding praises. Inexorably, a flock of women came hurtling as the sweaty lead singer and guitarist made his way out to sift through the potential suitors of a good time.

His hungry hands found a way to delicately graze the skin of every woman, giving them a lightning rush of whatever fun he could proffer for the night.

Shifting in your seat at the sudden wave of heat that burned you, you swallowed deeply watching the long strut of the mystery girl in the bathroom make a beeline to Eddie. It became easy to rationalize that pit in your stomach as the inevitable downfall of your best friend’s plan. Nothing more.

And yet, your eyes couldn’t steer away from them.

She was unbelievably gorgeous with an aura that captivated his attention in a split second. Over your shoulder, you watched her long lashes bat at his emerging smile, her gold rings complimenting the clash of his heavy silver ones, as his hand slipped into hers, raising it to a height that left her twirling before him, as he gawked at her body that fitted perfectly to her outfit.

And it was when his nose skimmed the skin of her cheek, lips whispering into her bejeweled ear, when his eyes unexpectedly caught yours across the bar.

An action so abrupt, you swiftly turned away to the ongoing conversation that had no interest in including you, but even that was better than staring Eddie Munson directly in the eye, as he worked up another woman.

Your pattering heart of anxiety became too heavy for your chest, forcing you to suffer in silence, heaving steadily until those rampaging butterflies finally calmed themselves in your stirring belly.

“Hey, you alright?” Winnie’s voice came close to your personal space.

You straightened your back, forcing a smile to appear. “Yeah, yeah, just, uh… I don’t know, getting used to things, I guess.” Her nods urged you to proceed. “But also, what I was trying to say earlier, that girl-”

“Hey.” You turned your head to the direction of the piercing blue eyes that scrutinized you with deep thought. Janet clung to his arm, as his body leaned over the table, as if to have you hear loud and clear. Walker Brauchman. “I know you from somewhere?”

“Um-”

“Your face, you got the face of someone I know, or at least, knew of.” His finger, so accusatory, pointed you out, adding seven more pairs of eyes to peruse you. “I thought it when I first saw you, but I can’t seem to put my finger on it.”

“Oh,” you stared around with a nervous laughter that rippled through your throat, “I don’t, uh, I don’t think so.” His face had been nothing but new when first approached, and surely those crystal eyes and broad brow bone would stick out in the memory of the past had you actually run into him before.

But he refused that answer, sticking with a fervent shake of his head. “Nah, nah, I’ve seen you before.”

Janet’s tense chuckles bursted out, as you watched her hands tighten around his bicep. “What’s going on here?” Her wide eyes ran down you. “Have you been with my boyfriend before?” Despite the flashy smile never leaving her face, nothing but hatred passed through her words.

“N-No, I don’t-”

“God, Walker, just drop it. How many beers have you had?” Winnie’s eyes rolled. “She’s not wandering around nightclubs where you techie, trust fund boys hang around. And Sebastian, when was the last time you got laid?”

You watched Janet’s eyes bug, and it became more evident that the glue holding these people was a deep loathing for one another. “Didn’t even say anything.” Sebastian’s voice quietly muttered, as he drowned his mouth in bourbon.

You sighed, sinking back in your chair. The entire night out was becoming a bust, and you were forced to revel in it. “Winnie.” You quietly spoke. “Maybe I should just head home, you stay and have fun.” You offered a weak smile in return to her concern.

“What? No.” She urged. “Look, just ignore them, okay? They’re a bunch of stuck up assholes, who I literally just use to get into that upscale bar on Saint Exn, you know, where they have those really uncomfortable performances that are supposed to be artsy, but really it’s just a bunch of weirdos bumping into walls.”

With a smile on your face, your soft giggles got lost in the murmur of the bar. At the very least, you had Winnie by your side. You leaned close to her vicinity. “Listen, Win, I know I said I would help you with this plan to, um, get back at Eddie, but I don’t think this is really gonna work out- or at least, I’m probably not the right person to do it.”

“What? How come?” Her arched brows pinched into her forehead. “No, you’re totally perfect, Y/N, I mean it, he was completely eyeing you.”

“Winnie, it’s just-” You adjusted in your seat to face her. “I feel like you may need someone with, um, more edge, I guess. I can’t- c’mon, Win, you know I can’t talk to a person like Eddie, it wouldn’t- it just wouldn’t work.” You rationalized. “You know, l-like her?”

Winnie followed the slight gesture that directed her behind you, where Eddie’s hand nursed a beer, as his right was occupied with groping at the fat of the woman’s ass. Winnie’s face scrunched into a scowl of disgust. “That perv does that to everyone. Trust, he’ll leave her as fast as it takes to finish in her.”

While appreciated, her words did little to provide you any comfort.

You peered back, and that inevitable pull left Eddie’s eyes gazing into yours, as his lips clung to the rim of his glass cup. Your eyes nervously met back to Winnie’s, and suddenly she had a smile on her face, as your periphery showed you the distant movements of Eddie guiding his group of band members and their pick of night to the large table behind you.

“God, he is so trying to make me jealous.” Winnie’s hushed voice complained to you. Eddie was beginning to approach with his new girl in tow. Nothing but a loud clatter from his friends who were securing spots around the table. “Okay, next part of the plan, we gotta move.” Winnie aggressively tapped your arm.

“Move? Move where?” You softly panicked.

“No, not move, like move onto the next- okay, just forget, just get up.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now!” Her demands spat on you through her harsh whispers. “Quick, quick! Just go get a drink.”

“I don’t want a drink, though.” Your brows furrowed.

Winnie deadpanned. “Oh, for the love of god, Y/N, just go to the bar. Just walk, no matter what, just walk, okay?”

Standing on your wobbly feet, you turned to face the busy bar. It only took one step for Winnie’s hand to suddenly shove your body forward in a belligerent manner that had your shoulder colliding with Eddie’s. But Winnie’s words were battering at your head. Just walk. And you never met the stunned state of Eddie Munson, as the entirety of his attention was stolen by you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” Your legs worked faster than your mind, hastily navigating you through the packed sardine of bodies, before you managed to squeeze yourself into a spot at the bar. Your finger tapped to the beat of your heart, clicking your nail to the slick wooden countertop that became more fervent by the second.

Through the swarming patrons, the bartender’s eyes locked with yours, which prompted your request. “Just a water, please.” With nothing but a nod handed back, your shoulders slumped to the whatever degree of fresh air the bar provided that wasn’t as suffocating as Eddie's presence.

You wondered if Eddie had said something to Winnie. They were nothing but a few feet apart, and seeing as what you had just done, you thought of the potential outcomes that could proffer themselves. The most blaring one being that Eddie probably told Winnie off about her creep of a friend who needs to back off. Oh, god, why did you ever agree to this? Embarrassment was coursing its burning way to your cheeks, which only worsened with the densely hot atmosphere that was beginning to be overwhelming. One look back would save you from the overbearing thoughts that were consuming your head, that Eddie Munson was, in fact, not at all engaging with Winnie Ambrose, but your eyes stayed glue to the whisking hands of the bartender, as concoctions were made before your water could ever be served.

Ice clanged, and you became captivated by the rapid shake of the mixer, until-

“Shoulder check back there was a bit rude, no?” Your eyes rose to the voice, only for a lump to lodge itself in the sudden tightness of your throat, hurriedly forcing your head away from him.

With a nearly empty cup, a simple gesture to the bartender for a refill sufficed as a wordless transaction for Eddie and the worker. “Sorry. Just crowded.” You managed to muster out, refusing his eyeline, despite his searing into your profile.

The answer should have served, but Eddie’s presence lingered for that awaiting refill, much like your water being tossed to the backburner for the numerous cocktails that were coming in for the sole bartender. Silence ensued, nothing but the minimal sounds of his body leaning forward were somehow becoming the lone focus of your attention. “You must think I’m some real jerk off, huh?”

You hadn’t registered how close his face had come, when your head turned and a pair of noses nearly bumped, with a smile eating at his face with just how fast you jumped back. “What?”

“Red-ish hair, bit of a loud mouth back there, that’s your roommate, no?” He eyed your silence. “I know I saw you yesterday. At her place. I saw you-”

“Her name’s Winnie.”

“Winnie.” Eddie’s tongue clicked. “Yeah, yeah.” His head nodded, as if recollecting the memories of whatever strained history he had of her.

A tense quietness was arising. If intently studying the abrasive nature of the bartender’s mixing was what it took to avoid his dark eyes, then you’d keep your focus trained, until a free moment was given to finally provide you with a water bottle.

But Eddie Munson, of course, had other plans.

“So, how’s Margaret?”

Such a casual grin swept his face, as he awaited the answer, but he was met with nothing more than a perplexed face of judgment, that had a cute way of flexing your brows together, he noted. “You remember Margaret but not Winnie?” Eddie Munson truly was just a load of bullshit.

“Well, if it came from your mouth, sweetheart, I’m gonna remember.”

Nothing but pathological lies spewing from that sinister grin. With luck on your side, the bartender found a moment of time to thrash a cold bottle of water upon you, giving you an escape, as you left him with nothing but a “right” to end the conversation.

His eyes stuck to the movement of your hips, his itching fingers have to splay themselves on the stubble of his chin, as his gaze diverted to the expanse of your body.

Had he seen your face, though, he would have relished in the panic that showcased itself, as you quickly stumbled your way back to Winnie, who was gladly slurping down her martini at the entertainment she witnessed from afar.

“Oh, my god, oh, my god, what did- ugh, what did he say?!” Winnie choked on her olive.

“Y’know, Winnie, I think it actually may be best if we just call it a night.” You quickly gathered your jacket over your shoulders, as Winnie stood from her seat.

Not one to tell twice, the contents of her martini glass were swigged down in a second, as she gathered her scattered belongings of a purse that was riffled through to retrieve her needed lipstick prior to your arrival. “Okay, but what did he- bye guys!” She waved off her friends. “What did he say?!”

Your hand clutched to hers, as you persevered through the endeavor of snaking your way through the crowd for a beeline to the exit. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?! Oh, c’mon, it’s Eddie, he had to have said something!” She prodded.

“Winnie, genuinely, he gave me some bullshit one liner, and that was it-”

“Leavin’ already? Could’a sworn y’all just got here?” With a gentlemanly hand holding the door open, both you and Winnie froze in place, as Eddie had abandoned that refilled beer all just to smile down at you. But you took the initiative to yank Winnie back to reality, tugging on her arm to let the cool breeze consume you in the loitered parking lot. But the god forsaken sound of the heavy crunch of boots against the asphalt had followed your movements. “Oh, c’mon now, things are just gettin’ a little interesting.” Eddie managed to speed up his steps, coming straight for your direction, where he fell in step ahead of you. “Kinda left me hangin’ back there.”

His eyes dropped to your bouncing body with each ardent step, and you left the warmth of Winnie’s hand to cross your jacket over. “There was nothing left hanging.”

“Now, wait, hold on.” His ringed hand buzzed your body, as it came to halt your movements with a gentle squeeze to your waist. “Kinda feel like you’re not getting the best first impression out of me here.”

Winnie chuckled. “You’re doing that to yourself.”

Eddie smiled. “Long time, no see, Wendy, still using too much teeth with your blowjobs?”

Her rum raisin lips pried open with a gasp of disbelief, as without a thought, her purse came flying to his arm. “It’s Winnie, you asshole!” Smack! “And unlike you, a piece of vibrating plastic can actually make me cum!” Winnie stormed off, violating her purse with her violent hands that aggressively searched for her car keys.

A sardonic laugh rippled out of his chest, as he happily smiled down at. “What a fucking liar, babe, don’t trust a word out of her. She always comes crawling back.” His sly grin whispered, as you felt his thumb caress you. You scoffed in revulsion, shoving his hand off of you to make your way around him. “Wait, wait, scratch that, alright? Forget I said that about your little friend, and we can start on a clean slate.” His legs followed you.

“Not interested.”

“Don’t tell me this is because of Red, sweetheart.” Your silence only egged him on. “Okay, look, whatever happened between me and your friend is in the past, alright? Just one little date will prove that I’m not usually like this, just got caught up in the wrong crowd, c’mon you gotta feel a little sympathy for me.”

“I don’t feel a thing actually.”

“Trust me, baby, after one date, I can make you feel a whole lot’a things.” His teeth flashed in a wicked smile that had your stomach anxiously turning. “What’s your pretty name, sweetheart?”

“I don’t think you really need to know that.”

“Kinda important to know the name of the girl I’m takin’ out.” You wouldn’t even be able to count on hand how many times Eddie’s forgotten his date’s name.

But you gulped the stress down, as you approached Winnie’s car. “Hasn’t a girl ever told you no?”

“Don’t you have a mind of your own?” Do you? Your body paused at his words, fingers lingering on the car door handle. “Don’t let your little friend influence this, use that head of yours for yourself. And for the record, sweetheart, no, a girl’s never told me no.” Eddie mockingly smirked in your face.

You swallowed thickly, as you faced the unbearable confrontation of Eddie Munson. Something you never even knew you had the confidence to do. “Well, I am, so accept it.”

“Look, darling, under any other circumstance, absolutely, but I got this funny, little feeling in my heart that you’re too special to let go.” His casanova smile ate at his face. “Just one little date s’all I’m askin’ for. Whatever you want, I’ll cater to your needs.”

Your eyes slung at Winnie’s through the car window, only to fall back on Eddie. Overwhelmed with feelings you’ve never felt before, you wanted to violently vomit, but stuck to the endeavor of standing your ground.

“Shove it.”

You cut Eddie off with the slam of Winnie’s door, where he stood watching you, as she keyed the ignition. In the distance, the entrance rang with the exit of Eddie’s friends. “Yo, Ed!”

But his eyes never left yours. “What?!”

“C’mon, we’re heading to the diner down east!” His friend called for, as Winnie reversed from the parking spot.

In the lively night, Eddie Munson watched you pull away, your chest heaving with just as much anxiety as the beating of his heart with the adrenaline you coursed through his veins. And maybe Eddie was lying at the mention of you being special, it wouldn’t be the first those words were spoken to get into the pants of a naive girl, who Eddie couldn’t have a single care for. Or maybe, just maybe, the craziness of Winnie Ambrose had managed to infiltrate your mind, forcing a sliver of you to believe his words to be true, as you festered on the subtle call out Eddie had managed to strike a nerve with. Something no one else has. Unless you were that easy to read to a practical stranger, how did Eddie know enough to be able to pick you apart with one sentence?

But you were urging yourself to understand this wasn’t his first rodeo.

Eddie watched Clara Dunn hide her tummy with her knit sweater, inevitably leading to his praises about her body that had her opening up her legs to him. Evil. Eddie watched Fernanda Pajaro conceal the hormonal bumps of her skin with creamy concealer, giving him the in to compliment her flawless complexion that got her mouth on his cock. Vile. Eddie watched Winnie Ambrose search for the validation of others, leaving him to whisper those sweet nothings in her ear that had her entangled in his sheets. Nefarious.

To Eddie Munson, you were absolutely noth-

“Ah! What the hell?!” Winnie’s foot slammed on the brakes, forcing your head to jolt at the sudden stop.

Behold, Eddie Munson’s hands perched against the hood of Winnie’s car, as the headlights of her Honda casted a sinister smile on his delighted face. “One date.” His muffled voice echoed.

Winnie rolled down the window of her car. “What the fuck are you doing?! You’re gonna get yourself killed!”

His shoulders shrugged, as his stare never left yours. “I won’t as long as you agree.”

Consternation was eating away at you, as the honking of cars was beginning to erupt, overstimulating you into a fright, that only worsened with the active traffic that was speeding on the other half of the four-lane highway.

“Are you crazy?! Get out of the road!” Your head peaked from the window, urging Eddie to leave.

You envied, yet despised the collection of calmness that he was able to generate, as his face never faltered from the clash of vehicles that sped by. “Just one date s’all I’m askin’.”

“Y/N, just do it!” Winnie begged you.

“No! I’m not about to be forced into this just because he’s insane!”

“Y/N is it? That’s real pretty.” Eddie smiled. “Y/N, will you go out with me?”

“No!” A car flew by. “God, please just get out of the road!” You desperately pleaded.

Eddie’s face playful faltered. “Why not? Why won’t you go out with me?”

“Because I don’t want you!”

A honk, louder than the usual, blared to warn its impending arrival, as Eddie’s palms were quickly beginning to moisten at the semi truck coursing down the road. “It’s just a date, just do it!” Winnie implored.

“Okay, okay! I’ll go out with you!” You hastily gave in, but the stubborn ego of Eddie Munson was rampantly becoming your sworn enemy.

“Nah, c’mon, don’t do me any favors-”

“No, no, I want to!” You beseeched, as the worry lines of your forehead deepened at the sight of the truck.

“Say it.” His smug smile infuriated you beyond compare.

“I wanna go out with you!” You angrily exhorted on the shortness of breath that weasled its way from your constricting throat.

“Say it again.”

You practically screamed your head off to satisfy the liking of Eddie Munson. “I want to go out with you!”

And he smiled, so proudly at his actions, but even more so at your words. “Alright, alright, we’ll go out, no need to beg.”

Running off road, you settled back into the seat with heavy breaths, as you finally watched Eddie safely return to the bar’s parking lot. Your sweaty hand burned itself on the hotness of your tense forehead that was beginning to welcome an ache from the strain of your voice and worries.

If only you knew the worsened matters of your situation, as Satina Rodrigo, with her burgundy acrylics and brown lips of gloss, watched in a fury at the events that transpire between her man and you.

Not to promote the imperial idealization of the American government, but you were beginning to loathe the contents of Africa and Asia that made them so large you were left unable to complete your puzzle by 12:00 A.M Saturday.

As spoken, this was the universe's punishment.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson series #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst

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singmyaubade · 4 months

Text

this is so fucking good.

Lights, Camera, Acción

credit for cute lil dividers: @cafekitsune

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18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: eddie munson x pornstar!reader

summary: eddie is short on rent this month and needs quick cash, luckily he stumbles upon an ad for casting in an adult film and finds himself shooting a porno with you

contains: strangers to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, mentions of smoking, awkward situations, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (unprotected — be safe pls), mentions of people being judgemental of readers line of work, mentions of anal, slightly exhibitionism, lots of smut, a sliver of mechanic!eddie, and eddie being the charming loser he's always been <3

word count: 13.5k (i am so fucking sorry omg)

-masterlist-

Eddie might be way in over his head.

Eddie’s been naked in front of groups of people before (the high school boy's locker room is a scary place to be, honestly), but never in those awful days of forced physical education was Eddie’s dick the center of everyone’s attention.

It’s weird, no doubt about it, standing at the front of a conference room with a table full of producers and writers and whatnot just… ogling Eddie’s naked frame.

“Can you lift your dick, please? So we can see your balls.”

Yeah. This is definitely going at the top of Eddie’s ‘weird things I’ve done for money’ list.

Still, Eddie reaches down and presses his dick up against his lower stomach to give his audience an unrestricted view of his balls.

Jesus.

“Okay, you can put your clothes back on.”

Honestly, Eddie wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for Robert, the manager at Eddie’s job— well, old job.

Robert had some kind of weird fucking vengeance out for Eddie. Maybe it was because Eddie came back high from, like, most of his lunch breaks, but should that really matter if Eddie still got the job done? How coherent do you have to be to organize music records by name? Not very fuckin’ much.

Robert disagreed, though, so he fired Eddie.

Robert was an asshole, though, and whenever Eddie would nicely warn him, ‘Hey, Rob, I’m gonna be out of town next Saturday,’ Robert would still fucking schedule him to close on that exact day!

Good riddance.

Except now, Eddie’s short on rent for the month, which is why he’s found himself standing fully naked in a room full of adult filmmakers.

Eddie’s almost dropped out of this deal ten times by now. He wasn’t sure if he was keen on the idea of his bare, naked body being out for the entire world and future generations to see. But then Eddie thought about it, and, well, he’s got a pretty decent cock. It’s an average size, and it’s not weird looking or anything, and his balls don’t sag— and, like, isn’t his dick primarily the star of the show? Eddie Jr. could pass for a star, Eddie thinks, and so do the people looking at it right now.

And he also really fucking needs the money, so. Porn it is.

Whatever.

Eddie could deal with it as long as he gets enough money to keep a roof over his head. Which reminds him— “Hey, uh, how much will I be getting paid, by the way?”

Eddie’s now fully clothed, car keys in hand, and ready to go now that he’s been dismissed, and he’s scratching the back of his neck as he waits for an answer.

One of the men at the table (Eddie thinks his name is Brian, but he’s not 100% sure) glances up at Eddie from the pile of papers he’d been sorting through, “Eight hundred for the booking and ten percent from the sales.”

Which, yeah, that covers Eddie’s rent. It also leaves a little bit of change in Eddie’s pocket, so “Sweet.” Eddie nods.

So, Eddie follows one of the assistants to her office, where she hands Eddie a file with the word SCRIPT written in bold and red letters, “Read over it, practice the lines a few times, do whatever you need to do to prepare for Friday.” She kindly smiles.

She’s sweet. Short, stout, and pretty, and she has these cute glasses that remind Eddie of a ladybug. Eddie takes the manila folder, bowing his head with a cheesy smile, “Thank you, Emily.”

“So, will I be getting a costume? Do pornos still have those dramatic plots with, like, pirates and shit?” Eddie rambles as he cracks the folder open to take a gander.

Emily snorts, “Sure, but unfortunately, you’re not a pirate for this one,” Eddie glances at her and dramatically pouts, “You will be taking on the role of a neighbor. Pretty simple and easy, not much setup needed, but I’m sure you’ll see that when you read over the script.”

Eddie looked over the script as soon as he got in his van, and Emily was right: there’s not much setup at all. There’s a few cheesy lines, cliche porno shit that definitely gets skipped over, and then they go straight to fucking. Eddie tries to run his lines a few times, but then he fails miserably, so he ends up tossing the script in his passenger seat and making a mental note to look at it later.

How hard can it be?

Apparently pretty fucking hard.

It’s Friday, and Eddie’s a chaotic mess as he walks in through the doors of the film studio. He’d just spent the last 30 minutes in his van trying to practice his lines, but Eddie was never the greatest theater kid, and the lines wouldn’t stick, so he ended up smoking a joint to ease his nerves.

People are bustling around the room, calling out orders and setting up lights, mics, furniture— the whole mile. It’s an entire ordeal that Eddie has walked into, and for a second, Eddie forgets that he’s one of the actual stars when someone walks up to him and says, “You're the new talent?”

“Huh?”

“New talent. Are you the guy we’re filming today?”

Eddie glances around and catches a glimpse of a half-naked girl eyeing him from across the room as a lady fixes her hair for the cameraman. She’s pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Nice body and soft-looking skin that Eddie would like to sink his teeth into and leave pretty little marks.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie.”

“Good. You’re late.”

Shit. Eddie must’ve lost track of time while practically hacking up a lung in his hotboxed van.

The person drags Eddie to a vanity and nudges him toward the high chair, “You’ll get your hair and makeup done, then we should be rolling in about half an hour.”

It’s jarring, really, seeing the amount of work that goes into the shitty raunchy films Eddie jacks off to, but it’s captivating nonetheless. Eddie can see the movement behind him through the vanity mirror, but he’s more focused on the pretty girl still posing for the camera. If that’s the girl Eddie will be working with, then this will be way easier than Eddie thought it would be because he’s already getting hard. Some might call it pathetic, but oh well.

“Hiya, hon! You the new talent?” A chirpy girl walks up behind Eddie, pearly white teeth and glossed lips working in tandem as she chews her gum and blows a quick bubble. She doesn’t wait for Eddie’s response as she digs her fingers into Eddie’s curly strands, tossing and gently pulling them about to see what she’s working with.

Her name is Nicki. She’s friendly and very talkative; Eddie comes to learn, because for the majority of the time that she’s working on Eddie’s hair, her mouth is running nonstop. Eddie doesn’t mind, though; honestly, it helps to take his mind off of whatever the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

Emily, the assistant from earlier, walks up to the vanity, her cute ladybug glasses slipping down her nose as she steps into Eddie’s view— and Eddie is happy to see a familiar and kind face. “Will you be needing a fluffer?”

Eddie blinks, eyes fluttering when the hairstylist dusts his bangs over his lashes, “Uh— a what now?”

Nicki loudly pops her gum as she shakes a can of hairspray, “A fluffer, honey. Someone to jack you off and get you ready for the scene.”

Eddie’s eyes widened for a split second, and he made the mistake of glancing over at the girl who was still modeling across the room. Her tits are out now, and they’re perfect, and she catches Eddie’s eyes for the second time, and it makes his already stiffened cock stir within his pants.

Eddie shakes his head as he looks back at Emily, his voice higher when he responds, “No, I uh… I think I’m good.”

Which, duh. Eddie's dick is practically breaking the seams of his jeans because of the pretty girl, and it’s only getting worse because now she’s walking toward him dressed in a white robe. “You must be Eddie.”

Eddie’s surprised you know his name, but then he figures, obviously, you must know his name given the fact that you’re about to let him swing his dick near you. “That’s me,” Eddie smiles, “You must be… I’m sorry nobody’s told me anything.” He awkwardly laughs.

You nod with a shrug and tell him your name, “Is this your first time filming?” You ask.

Eddie nods, “Is it that obvious?” He nervously asks. You shrug, “Most guys in the industry need more than a pair of tits to get that hard.” You nod towards Eddie’s crotch— and oh god. How embarrassing! She knows you were checking her out!

“No need to be embarrassed though, Eddie. Pretty soon, you’ll be shoving your cock down my throat, so.”

Eddie’s cock may have gotten harder from those words alone.

“A rookie? Seriously, Don?”

Your makeup is being done, so you don’t see how your manager rolls her eyes at you. “When I said I wanted someone fresh, I didn’t mean never-been-under-the-camera fresh.”

The makeup artist finishes with your touch-ups, and you take the opportunity to turn to Don and glare at her, “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Don.”

The older lady waves a dismissive hand, “He’ll do just fine, babe,” she deadpans. You shake your head, turning to look at the man of the hour. He’s attractive; you’ll give him that. Tall, pretty curly hair, sweet brown eyes, a panty-dropping voice. Sure, he’s attractive, okay. But he’s got no clue how to do this type of thing. Clearly— I mean, you’re literally watching him gaze down at the dildos that have been lined up for you as if he’s never seen one in his life— which you doubt. If he knew how to find an adult filmmaking studio, then he’s definitely seen some fucking dildos.

You suppress a laugh when he accidentally drops a glass dildo, turning back to your manager as you ignore his chorus of apologies to the staff, “My case in point.”

Don fails to hold back a laugh, “So he’s a little off the walls,” she shrugs, “He’s cute though. And his dick is nice. Trust me.”

And, well, she’s not wrong.

Don’s never been one to lie without reason, so unfortunately, Eddie’s cock is nice. Pretty, even. Which is weird because after some time being in this industry, the thrill of a nice-looking cock has gotten lost on you because they practically all look the same— just different shades of colors, really.

But Eddie’s cock is nice in the sense that it’s real. He’s not shot up with steroids to make it overly veiny and big or cleanly shaved or any of that superficial camera-ready shit. No, Eddie is natural. He’s got neatly trimmed curly hairs across his pelvis that smell like his body wash when you nuzzle your nose against it, and he’s big enough to wrap your hand around, but you know the second he pushes inside of you, it will be a nice stretch. He’s cut, and he has a slight curve to the left, and he’s so sensitive his cock jumps when you tap the pearly white drop that leaks from his tip. You giggle, shuffling forward on your knees as you stroke him.

You’re already done with the opening scene, finally. Eddie couldn’t remember any of his lines, so it took a lot longer than it should’ve, but you think it was worth it either way because the way Eddie moans when you finally wrap your lips around his tip is the prettiest sound you think you’ve ever heard.

“F-fuck,” He quietly curses, hips shifting as you swallow more of him. He sinks a slightly shaking hand into your hair, gently cupping your head as you work your mouth over him. Your eyes flutter to gaze up at him, and your stomach flutters at the cocky grin he gives you. “You’ve got such a good little mouth on you, sweetheart. Gonna let me fuck it?”

You hum and nod as best as you can with his cock in your mouth, and he hums, “Open up for me, baby.”

You shift on your knees, finding a comfortable position for the action before blinking up at Eddie, indicating you’re ready. Eddie’s hands are steady and certain as he cups both sides of your head, holding you still as he draws his cock out once before slowly thrusting in until your throat tightens around his tip.

He fills your mouth so perfectly, just enough to where you won’t get bored, but you also won’t get an overly aching jaw, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. Can’t wait to feel how his cock twitches when he first nestles deep in your walls or how much better the sounds he makes will be.

It’s a nice feeling, having Eddie fuck your mouth, and you usually don’t care much for shots like this because most of the time, it’s either underwhelming or overwhelming, but Eddie fucks your throat in a sense that’s dirty yet so caring. He’s spewing out filthy praises, and you're drooling onto his balls, but he’s looking at you with these soft brown eyes and caressing you so gently you might quiver. Fuck, you really wanted to hate him.

Behind the camera, the director makes a motion for you to cut to the next action, but since your back is to them, Eddie is the one that sees it and gently coaxes you off from his cock, cooing when you let out the smallest whine that only he can hear. He smiles, thumb running beneath your swollen lip to catch the strings of spit and cum, “What? You liked having me down your throat, sweet girl?”

You mewl, pressing your chin into his palm as you nod.

"Yeah. Want it, please?" You whisper. God, you didn’t expect to be fucked out within the first scene. "Aw, maybe next time, princess. You can keep me warm as long as you'd like."

It’s almost embarrassing, how much you like the sound of that and how it makes your tummy flip, but you don’t have much time to think about it because Eddie’s ushering you up from the floor to climb onto the couch and straddle his lap.

You’re both bare now, and when Eddie had first taken his shirt off, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands down his graffitied chest, but you were too busy sinking to your knees. But now you have the chance, and boy, do you fucking take it.

You marvel as you coast your hands across Eddie’s body, fingertips gliding through fields of inked stories and vast skin. His breath hitches when you graze over his nipples, and his hips shift beneath you, wet cock slipping against your sticky folds. You whimper, grinding down onto him, and he curses as he grabs ahold of your hips. “Y’like them?” He sweetly asks, referring to his tattoos.

"Yeah," you nod, grinding down harder to have his cock nestled between your folds, his ruddy tip nudging your clit. “I can tell you all about them if you want.”

You giggle at his timing, but before you can respond, a director speaks up from the side, “Less talking, please.”

Eddie glances over your shoulder and salutes the man, “Roger that, sir.”

You can’t help but snort at his actions, but you’re quickly hushed when Eddie reaches down to paint his cock between your folds before lining himself up, “Go ahead and sit on it, baby.” He whispers.

You listen, nuzzling your face against his shoulder as you wriggle yourself down the length of his cock.

And god, you love being fucking right. The stretch is so good, better than you had imagined it to be, and you can’t help the high-pitched moan that slips from your lips when Eddie thrusts up into you.

"O-oh. Oh fuck," You whimper. You’re practically boneless as Eddie fucks you, your entire body just draped over him as his hands dig into your ass to help bounce you on his cock. “Jesus fucking— you feel so good,” He pants, and you mewl, cunt clenching around his cock as he drills up into you. “You gonna cum for me, hm? Be my best girl and cum for me. I know you’ll sound so pretty.” He whispers.

Before you know it, you’re moaning out and writhing in Eddie’s hold, juices dripping down his cock and forming a sticky mess in the patch of curls at his base as you cum.

“Let’s have a shot from the back.”

Your body feels weightless as you and Eddie change positions so you’re on all fours. You’re blinking through a hazy fog, and it feels so good. Eddie’s hands send chills up your spine as they grip your waist and tug you towards him.

“Oh, baby, you’re shaking,” Eddie hums, running his hands over the fat of your ass, thumbs digging into the skin to spread you open. You’re so wet you can hear the sticky noise of your folds parting, and Eddie groans as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. “You open up so well for me, sweet girl.”

Jesus.

You don’t get much of a warning before you feel Eddie lapping and sucking at your cunt, devouring you until you’re nothing but a mess of moans and quivering limbs.

Jesus Christ, that wasn’t in the fucking script. Half of the shit Eddie’s doing isn’t in the fucking script, and it's making your head spin.

God, who is this man?

You whimper his name, reaching a shaky hand back to grapple at his hair, and Eddie nuzzles his face deeper into your cunt, nose nudging your ass in a way that makes your toes curl. He’s good. He’s really good, you’ll give him that.

You and Eddie go at it for about an hour, switching positions and pausing every now and then to get a good shot of your cunt wrapped around Eddie’s cock, or Eddie’s tongue lapping over your clit or tits.

And it's fun doing this with Eddie.

Eddie is like a breath of fresh air. Most guys in this industry are stuck up and make things annoyingly serious, and most girls are either bitchy or just want to get it over with, which you don’t blame them for.

But Eddie makes things feel so normal— like you’re just two best friends getting filmed having sex— because he keeps whispering tiny jokes to make you giggle. He tells you how pretty you sound and look, and he’s so incredibly clueless because he keeps leaning in and asking things like, “Is this, like, a good angle for the camera?” and “Should I maybe kiss you more?” and “Is it okay if I stop fucking you for a second? Because I’m about to blow.”

And all you can do is breathlessly moan and nod because he’s plunging himself so deep into you that it almost hurts, but it’s so good.

You’re so fucked out you barely even register Eddie’s words when he tells you he’s about to cum, but your body immediately reacts when he pats your hip, indicating for you to get ready.

You scramble down from the couch, limbs weighted from pleasure as you settle on your knees, batting your lashes up at Eddie as he towers over you, stroking his wet cock. Eddie rests a hand on your head, fingers grasping your hair to keep you still as he gazes down at you. You’re impatient, so you can’t help but let yourself sneakily lick the tip of his cock, and he grins, “It’s coming, precious girl. Stick your tongue out for me.”

You shuffle closer, sticking your tongue out as you eagerly await the taste of Eddie on your tongue— and when you get it, god, you never want it to stop. Everything about it is perfect: the way his face twists up, the way he tastes, the pretty moans he lets out. You want it on repeat.

You might buy this film just to relive it.

You take every last drop Eddie has to give you with a happy hum; a little bit catches your lip, and Eddie swipes it with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth and suckling. You whine, frowning and causing Eddie to laugh, “You got most of it, sweetheart. Can’t be too greedy, can you?”

It’s like you’re both in your own world. Only talking to each other and enjoying each other's bodies because Eddie just… it’s weird, but he makes the room go away. He makes things feel less performative— and maybe it’s just your hazy, blissed-out state of mind, but you think you might like Eddie.

You’re snapped from your trance when the director yells cut, and then everyone’s springing into action to tear down the set because another crew will be using it next. Eddie helps you stand on your wobbly legs, “You alright?”

You nod, “Great. You did good, by the way.”

Eddie leans forward and grabs your robe that had been pushed to the side. He smiles as he holds it open for you, “Thank you. You did pretty awesome yourself.” He responds as you slink your arms through the sleeves.

You turn to Eddie as you close your robe and tie it shut. Your assistant, Emily, hands Eddie a robe for himself, and he thanks her, curtly bowing his head as he grabs the plush article. “So,” Eddie starts as he slips on the robe. You both start walking towards the dressing rooms as he speaks, “Think I could make a career for myself here?” He asks.

You halt at that, turning to Eddie with a confused look, “Is that… is that not why you’re here?” You ask.

Eddie shakes his head as he ties his robe, “Nah, I got fired from my job. Needed some cash for rent this month.” He explains.

Is it selfish to say you’re disappointed to hear this? If Eddie had been wanting to join this industry, you would’ve had the opportunity to work with him again. But maybe it’s more selfish to say you’re happy he isn’t joining this industry. Eddie becoming an adult film star would mean half of the time, he’d be fucking other people, and unfortunately, that idea alone makes your gut twist with jealousy.

You nod, pursing your lips as you fiddle with your fingers, “Well… would you be interested in this type of thing?” You try your best to sound casual about it, and you think it works because Eddie only shrugs again with a short hum, “I don’t know. Wouldn’t be opposed to it, I guess.”

Before you can respond, Emily calls your name, “Don needs to speak with you in the other room about your next shoot.”

You turn back to Eddie and try to commit his pretty brown eyes to memory, “I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie.” You smile. Eddie smiles back and does somewhat of a dramatic bow, and you snort as you walk off.

You glance over your shoulder as you walk with Emily.

“Could you do me a favor?” You ask her. Emily nods, and you take one last glance at Eddie before he disappears into the dressing room.

“Get his number for me. And leave it in my purse, please.”

A couple of weeks have passed since Eddie made his big debut in the film world.

Eddie made a pretty penny from that film, enough to pay his rent and have some play money on the side. Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t have to scramble for cash this month again because he got a job at the mechanic shop downtown. It’s a lot of labor and a lot of hours, but the pay is good, and nobody gives a shit if Eddie comes back from lunch smelling like a dispensary, so.

Suck that, Robert.

However, Eddie’s still thoroughly surprised to see you sitting in the shop office when he returns from a quick smoke break. “Woah, funny seeing you here. Car problems?” He questions. Eddie tries not to think about the fact that he’s seen you completely bare before. Tries not to think of how he’d spent over an hour in your guts last month or how you swallowed his load like it was nothing. Eddie fails miserably.

You shake your head as you stand up from the leather couch in the office, grabbing your purse as Eddie walks closer to you, “No, actually, Lola’s doing great.”

Eddie cocks his head, “Lola?”

You nod, “My car.” You gesture out towards the window where your car is parked. Eddie makes an understanding noise as he nods.

“I was actually hoping to talk to you.”

Eddie pauses at that, confusion settling over his body as he looks at you. You’re beautiful, kind, soft eyes with soft, pretty lips that Eddie thinks about kissing when he goes to bed. Eddie points to himself with raised eyebrows, “Me?”

You nod again, “Yeah, about like… my job and stuff.”

Oh.

Ohhhh.

“Oh, shit, yeah, um,” Eddie glances around the office and nods, “Yeah, we can step out and talk, like, in my van, maybe?” He offers. Not because he’s, like, ashamed to talk about porn or something, most people watch it! But a few of the guys that work here are downright dipshits, and Eddie won’t hesitate to punch one of them if they say some sly shit about you or your job. And, well, Eddie would like to keep his job, so.

You don’t take offense to it, though; you just nod with your pretty smile and tell Eddie to lead the way.

Eddie’s van smells like weed, cologne, and a hint of whatever he had for lunch.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles as he clears off the passenger seat that’s filled with bottles of different drinks, rolling papers, food wrappers, and things of the like. “She’s seen better days.”

You smile nonetheless, thanking him when he steps away and holds the door open for you. You hop into the seat, glancing around as Eddie shuts your door and jogs to the driver's seat.

He gets in with a heavy sigh, hair unruly from the wind, brown eyes wide and excited when he looks at you. “Hey.” He huffs with a smile, and there’s a piece of hair in Eddie’s bangs that’s sticking straight up. “Hey.” You giggle, reaching out to fix the rebellious strand. Eddie softly thanks you, and you swear you see a hint of pink dust across his cheeks.

He shifts in his seat, rubbing his hands against his thighs as he sighs again, “So… what’s up?”

God, he’s so cute. So incredibly weird and awkward and cute. He looks handsome in his navy blue coveralls, grease stains smeared across his torso, and some sneaky smudges on his neck. “You’re very hard to get ahold of, you know?” You tease.

Eddie’s face twists in confusion, “Huh?”

You shrug, distracting yourself by poking around at his dashboard, sifting through the CDs and tapes he has lying about. Eddie doesn’t stop you; he only watches, and you give him a cheeky smile. “My assistant got your number, right? But then you, like, never answered my calls.” You shrug as you flip through more of his things. You hear Eddie mumble something about needing a new cord for his home phone before he asks louder, " So, how’d you find me?”

God, he must think you’re a stalker or something. You didn’t really think that through, honestly.

You hum, “Just asked around a bit. You’re a bit of a hot commodity around here, by the way. Heard you started a cult? What’s that about?”

Eddie’s eyes widen at your words, and you laugh, “Oh god. Jesus, no, I didn’t start a cult. I just,” he groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I was just weird in high school.”

“You’re still weird.”

Eddie’s face falters at your words, but you smile as you add, “I like it.”

Eddie blushes again, but he turns to look away this time, and you think he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever set your eyes upon. He turns back to you with a shy grin, “Did you come here just to flirt with me?” He teases, wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger to twirl in a shy manner. “Maybe… but I also have a question.” You respond.

Eddie nods, “Shoot.”

You take a deep breath as you shift in your seat, “Well, uh, I wanted to ask if you maybe…” You glance at Eddie, who's expectantly awaiting your question, and your stomach twists with nerves. Why are you so nervous to ask Eddie for something you’ve already done before?

“Well, I’m doing a shoot tomorrow,” you finally begin, “And I just found out the guy they paired me with is, like, a total asshole— I’ve worked with him before, he’s just… awful,” You explain. “So, I was just… I don’t know; I was just wondering— hoping— you’d be up for it, maybe? To take the guy's place, I mean.”

You finish rambling and glance at Eddie as his eyes widen, “Oh, um. Like— like, film with you again?”

Eddie could leap for joy right now.

Not only are you, like, the cutest, prettiest, kindest fucking human being to ever grace this earth, but you’re sitting in Eddie’s van, chewing on your lip and asking Eddie to fuck you for the cameras again.

Eddie must’ve done something incredibly right in his past life.

“Oh!” Eddie starts, “ Um… yeah, I’d love to!” What? Weird, take that back. “No, I mean, like, not in a weird way. I just— I’d rather not let the asshole do it if I can do it.”

God, could Eddie sound any more pathetic?

Still, despite how dumb Eddie sounds, you smile and clasp your hands together, “Oh, are you sure? I know it’s last minute, and it’s not really the ideal task—”

“Woah, wait. What do you mean not the ideal task?”

Because literally, what do you mean? How could that not be the ideal task? And who made you think that fucking you isn’t the ideal task? If it’s that asshole you were supposed to work with, then Eddie has a few colorful things to say about and to him.

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, “Nothing, I just know my job isn’t… you know, traditional or whatever. And you had only done it that one time because you needed it, so I get it if you’re, like, not in the mood to fuck on camera for a bunch of random people.” You ramble. Which, uh, no. You could not be further from the truth. Eddie would love to fuck you on camera for a bunch of random people. Hell, Eddie would love to fuck you under any consensual circumstance, if he’s being honest, so. Yeah, he’s pretty excited.

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “No, I— I want to, really, I do.” Eddie nods.

Your unsure frown spreads into the prettiest smile before you reach across the center console to pull Eddie into the most bone-crushing, you-scented, chest-warming hug Eddie’s ever been given as you spew out a chorus of thank yous.

“I brought a copy of the script for you to look over so you’re not totally confused,” Eddie watches as you pull back to reach into your bag and pull out a manilla folder. “I usually like to color coordinate my scripts, so I did it for you too. The pink is me, and the red is you, and the specific actions they want us to do are in blue.” You point out. And Eddie thinks he might kiss you right now— you’re so fucking cute!

“Wow, thanks, um… I wish I were, like… good with these types of things, but I think you saw how majestic I am with scripts.” Eddie huffs out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck. You smile, “I can help you— if you’d like.”

Oh, you’re trying to kill Eddie at this rate.

Eddie nods either way, even though he’s six feet underground and knocking at the fiery gates. “I would love that, actually. I finish work in about three hours if you’re free.”

Eddie definitely broke a handful of laws while driving home.

Since you offered to help Eddie with his lines, you both decided to meet at Eddie’s place. He gave you his address, told you how to get into the complex, and said see you later. Now, Eddie is ecstatic to see you, obviously, but Eddie can’t remember if his home looked normal or like a Walmart clearance aisle after black Friday, so he ran through multiple stop signs and red lights to get home before you showed up so he could clear things up.

He’s hustling through his apartment like a madman, picking up strewn clothes and cat toys before speeding through the few dishes he had in his sink. Honestly, Eddie’s apartment has seen worse days, so there’s not much cleaning he has to do, but he’s still stressed when he hears a knock on the door.

Eddie doesn’t even like candles, but he lit one just in case there’s a smell he’s grown used to lingering about. Eddie just doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob. Because he isn’t. He just has an orchestrated chaotic lifestyle.

Eddie couldn’t be happier when he opened his door because there you were, beaming with a smile and a bag of takeout, and Eddie thought it wasn’t normal to be this soft for someone you’d basically just met.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Eddie dramatically bows with an extended hand to show the entrance of his small, homey apartment. You smile as you walk in, taking in your surroundings.

It’s nothing extraordinary, honestly. Eddie’s home is really just vomit of everything Eddie likes: favorite colors, favorite movies, favorite game characters, etc. It’s like Eddie’s brain exploded and painted itself all over the place. Eddie had a girlfriend many moons ago, and she changed things around to become more coordinated, so now it’s less of a shit show and more of an abstract museum sort of thing.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway because you’re gasping and picking up the little roommate Eddie has.

“Who’s this?” You coo at the little creature. You’re looking down at the furball as you scratch behind her ear, “That,” Eddie sighs, “Is the reason why I didn’t get your calls.”

You look up at Eddie, confusion written across your face. Eddie points across the room to the wall where his home phone hangs, except the wire is broken. “Little asshole chewed through the wire, and I’ve been slow to replace it. Her name is Banshee.”

The cat meows at the mention of her name, wide eyes blinking up at Eddie as you coddle her. She’s a fluffy cat with a black coat decorated with two white spots: one on her back and the other just behind her ear.

You hum, “So technically,” You drag, “It’s your fault.” You tease. You coo as you press your cheek to the tiny kitten, gazing up at Eddie with these soft eyes, “I don’t think you can blame this cutie for your laziness.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, wills away whatever power he has to not kiss you, and gently takes the takeout bag from your hands so you have less to carry. “Fine then. Ask her what happened to the laces of my work shoes, too, since she’s so innocent.”

Eddie’s home is so… Eddie.

He’s got music and horror movie posters framed along his walls, cute little scary figurines randomly placed within his bookshelves, and there’s an overall smell of Eddie’s musk and the sandalwood candle he has burning. It’s cozy, a nice space for one person who enjoys their alone time, and he let you choose a record to play from his extensive collection, and he has the world's cutest little cat, so it’s safe to say you could spend an eternity in Eddie’s world.

“Shit, that wasn’t my line,” Eddie stresses. You smile as Eddie tosses the packet onto his coffee table and falls back onto the couch, “We’re wasting our time here, princess. I dropped out of theater for a reason.” He grumbles.

You sigh, tilting your head against the couch cushion as you gaze at Eddie, “You’re thinking too hard about it.” You say. “It’s a porno, not a Grammy-nominated film.” You point out.

Eddie snorts before giving a short shrug, “For the record, I think you could land a Grammy, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, right. You don’t need to suck up to me, Eddie, you’re already gonna fuck me tomorrow.” You jokingly say.

Eddie waves you off and shifts into a more comfortable position. “So,” He starts, “What’s the asshole guy's deal?”

Banshee has hopped onto the couch and made her way into your lap, tiny paws kneading the material of your jeans as she settles. You gently pet her as you glance at Eddie and shrug, “Not sure, he’s just a total dick,” You grumble. “I worked with him once last year, and he, like, told me I wasn’t the best or whatever— which, okay, I can totally understand,” You ramble, “I don’t think I’m, like, some sex god. I don’t expect to be everyone or anyone’s best fuck, but still! It just… it didn’t make me feel good, the way he said it.” You windedly explain. You distract yourself with the cute animal in your lap as you finish your explanation, “So, I asked my manager never to pair us again, but—” You shrug.

Next to you, Eddie shifts once more and scoffs. “He’s a fucking shitfaced liar, princess.”

You snort, playfully rolling your eyes, “Eddie—” “No, I’m serious. He’s a liar. Anybody who even gets the chance to touch you is a lucky fucker, okay? If anything, he probably begged your manager to let him work with you again.”

“You’re just saying that. I don’t need you to try and make me feel better, and it was so long ago anyway.” “Yeah, but that’s the thing, I’m not.”

You frown as you gaze over at Eddie, watching as he sits straight and looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s up with that guy, maybe he was dropped as a baby too many times, but anybody with common sense and a properly functioning dick knows just how fucking amazing you are. End of discussion.”

And well, it’s pathetic how your chest warms at his words, but it does. And as Eddie goes on to ramble about his hectic week at work, you can’t help but let your mind spin with Eddie’s kind words until nothing is in your mind but the echoes of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Not many times has Eddie woken up with a girl in his home. Well, at least not a girl that he’s actually liked for more than a one-night stand or a shortly-lived fling.

After running the script for the last time, Eddie suggested putting on a movie and digging into the takeout you’d brought. The meal was delicious, and the movie you’d landed on was hilarious, but it’s hard to keep your eyes open on a full stomach, so when Eddie felt your head drop onto his shoulder, he couldn’t help but let his body sink into the couch and fall asleep too.

You’d woken up about an hour later and tried to make your escape quietly, but Eddie insisted you shouldn’t drive in such a sleepy state, so he let you make yourself comfy in his bed. Banshee, the little traitor, trotted right behind you and left Eddie on the couch to snuggle up beside you for the night.

You’re cute in the morning, Eddie thinks. You have an adorable little pout, and you yawn about 80 times until you’ve had a sip of coffee.

It takes nearly a lifetime to drag you away from Banshee so you and Eddie can head to the studio because you adore the little asshole, and Banshee loves anything that’ll give her the time of day. You make Eddie promise to let you see her again, though, so you sadly say goodbye with a soft peck to the fluffy area between her eyes and let Eddie drag you to his van.

The car ride is nice; Eddie lets you mess around with the contents of his van and go through the stack of CDs he’s compiled over the years. You land on one of Eddie’s favorites, an old mixtape Wayne made in college that Eddie spent most of his high school blaring loud enough to blow out a speaker.

Today, you’re shooting in a house— a nice one that Eddie could only conjure up in his dreams—but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because he’s being dragged over to makeup and hair as soon as he steps in.

“You thinking of joining the industry?” Nicki asks as she works a nice-smelling mousse into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie had been busy watching you talk to one of the producers, but he finds the strength to tear his eyes away and gaze at Nicki through the vanity mirror. “No, not exactly. Just… doing a favor for a friend, I guess.”

Nicki raises an eyebrow, “A friend? Don’t act like I didn’t see you two come in together.”

Eddie’s face warms at that, the tips of his ears turning red as he stutters, “Huh?”

Nicki looks at Eddie with a ‘Don’t bullshit me’ look.

“I mean, like, yeah, we had breakfast together–” “Mhm.”

Eddie huffs out a gentle laugh, “No, really, we’re friends.”

“Friends that fuck on camera and look at each other the way you two do? Sure.”

Eddie doesn’t ask what Nicki means by that because— well, he knows what Nicki means by that. He’s caught himself looking at you like you put the stars in the sky one too many times, and it’s almost embarrassing. Almost.

But can you blame Eddie? Can you really blame him when you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, the softest smile, the greatest laugh, and the sweetest personality? It’s not Eddie’s fault that you’re perfect.

Eddie just thinks you’re neat.

He thinks you’re amazing, actually, and it’s hard to remember his fucking lines when you’re standing under a steaming shower, wet body glistening and pebbled nipples practically begging for his mouth.

He’s butchering the script, that’s for sure, but he figures it’s not too bad since nobody’s corrected him.

The scene starts with you taking a shower and Eddie being a peeping tom, which ultimately leads to Eddie sinking to his knees and licking into you until you’re a quivering, sticky mess on his tongue. Eddie would spend forever on his knees, between your legs, if he could because you taste heavenly and sound better than any song Eddie’s ever listened to, and that says something.

Your fingers thread through the wet strands of Eddie’s hair, and Eddie rapidly blinks when he gazes up at you, only to get an eyeful of his wispy bangs. You smile, petting back his bangs so he can see, and he hums, nudging his face further against you, his tongue teasing more, fingers curling deeper.

It doesn’t take long to make you cum, and the second you do, Eddie is standing up, shutting off the shower, and ushering you out into the expansive main bathroom. It’s almost as if it’s just Eddie and you in the room. No cameras, no directors or producers, or that weird pervy lighting guy that compliments you way too fucking much for Eddie’s liking. It’s just you and Eddie.

“Let’s do an over-the-counter shot next.”

Fuck. It’s not just you two, actually.

What a buzz kill.

Either way, Eddie finds himself pressing your wet, naked waist down against the sink, smiling when you squeal at the cold marble touching your skin. “Stick your ass out, baby, let me see that gorgeous ass.”

You mewl as you follow Eddie’s instructions, tipping your hips back to present yourself to him and the cameras. You’re dripping. Swollen and wet and throbbing, and Eddie— god, Eddie feels like a fucking animal.

“Got such a pretty pussy, honey. All wet and ready for me, hm?” He teases, gently running his fingers through the sticky arousal between your legs. You shakily breathe as you nod your head, “Yeah. All for you. Please.”

Eddie steps forward, grabbing his cock and painting it between your swollen lips as he hooks his other arm across your shoulders, pulling you back to press against his chest. He presses a wet kiss to the skin of your cheek in front of your ear, voice dry and needy as he whispers in your ear, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” His eyes catch yours in the mirror as you keen. “Ask me to fuck you.”

You whimper out loud, wriggling your hips back into his as your hands grip the counter, “P-please fuck me. Please. Need it so bad, want your cock so bad I— o-oh.”

The slide to home base is fucking otherworldly. It was life-changing the first time, and it’s life-changing now, and if Eddie ever gets the chance to fuck you again, he knows it’ll be life-changing then.

You’re so warm, and you're sucking Eddie’s cock in so nicely, so sinfully, that Eddie almost makes a deal with the devil right then and there. Your chest is heaving by the time Eddie’s pelvis presses to your bum, his cock nestled deep into your pulsing cunt. Eddie leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he loops an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to him as he gives one slow thrust. He coos when your eyes flutter shut, and your jaw drops, a shaky hand reaching up to sink your nails into Eddie’s forearm.

“S-so deep,” You slur, wriggling your hips back against Eddie.

Eddie grunts, “Fuck. You feel so good, baby. Always so warm and ready for me, hm?” Eddie’s lips are wet against your jaw as he whispers into your ear, and you nod with a mewl.

Eddie works up the pace relatively fast in favor of the cameras, and at some point, he reaches down to grip the thick of your thigh and haul your leg up to rest on the counter so you’re spread open even more. The angle makes it easier for him to catch your spot, and it’s better for the camera to capture the sight of your soaking pussy wrapped around Eddie’s cock, dribbling onto both of your thighs and creating a sticky ring of arousal at the base of Eddie’s dick.

Eddie’s hand is wrapped around your throat when you begin twitching around him, mumbling promises of your climax, and Eddie doesn’t waste time in sinking his hand between your legs to help you reach the edge quicker. Your moans fall silent, eyes squeezed shut, and jaw dropped wide open as Eddie fucks you through your orgasm— and fuck, you feel so good. Squeezing and pulsing and dripping around Eddie’s thighs, throat vibrating beneath his palm when air comes back to you.

“There we go, baby. Get it all out, push it out, honey.” Eddie encourages you.

You’re shaking, trembling like a leaf in Eddie’s arms, and Eddie wants to spend forever tucked into your pussy, warm skin sticky against him, pretty little whines and mewls coating his brain in this cutesy pink fog that makes him want to fucking marry you.

Get you a home, give you his babies, maybe even get you a fucking dog and just live happily goddamn ever.

Jesus, Eddie’s a goner.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Eddie pulls out last second, jerking himself off between your cute ass cheeks until he’s spurting white ropes of cum up your back.

Eddie, ever the considerate man he is, pushes your hair out of the way to avoid getting any of his sticky release in it. You’re breathing heavily, pretty eyes glazed over as you glance back at Eddie, a shy glint in your eyes at the sight of your skin painted in his cum.

Eddie’s obsessed with you now, no doubt.

His ringed fingers slide through the sticky mess on your skin as he grips your ass cheeks, gently spreading them apart and humming when you arch your back, proudly swaying your ass in front of him. The sight makes Eddie dizzy; pools of cum dripping down your back to slink its way through your ass and over your sticky folds. “You’ve got such a cute little hole, baby.” Eddie compliments, taking his thumb and smearing his cum over the puckered muscle, softly laughing when you whine.

He lightly slaps your ass then, reaching forward to gently grasp your face with his messy hands and pull you back to press a firm kiss over your lips. His thumb, the one that had smeared his cum over your tight hole, sinks between your moving lips, pushing into your mouth and onto your tongue as he whispers a small command to taste it, and you mewl.

“So good, princess—”

“Cut!”

You both jolt at the booming voice, getting rudely snapped out of the daze you’d fallen into.

These fucking cameras.

You smile, dropping your cheek onto your shoulder as you bat your eyelashes up at Eddie from over your shoulder, “You’re a natural, Eddie, you know that?”

Eddie huffs a laugh, thanking the assistant when they bring you towels and robes.

“Well,” He breathes as he slinks the robe over his shoulders, watching as you do the same, “I’ve got the best coach.” He winks.

Now that you and Eddie have done two films together and basically had a sleepover, you’re practically inseparable.

It’s funny, really. Eddie thought maybe the fact that you’ve seen each other bare and had sex on camera might hinder the aspect of any friendly connection because, well, Eddie’s never done this before! He’s not a pornstar, so he’s not sure how the friendship/relationship aspect of it works, but luckily, it’s easier than most normal friendships Eddie’s had before.

You talk almost every night over the phone (Eddie finally fixed the wire), going over one another’s day and laughing at embarrassing or funny moments. You go on for hours until either one of you falls asleep, and it’s usually you since Eddie has the sleep schedule of a newborn baby who doesn’t know the difference between night and day. All the better for him, though, because he gets to poke fun at you the next day and tease you about how you sometimes snore.

And Eddie loves listening to you talk— could spend hours cuddled up with Banshee as he listens to you ramble on about whatever new show you’re watching or the latest gossip at work. It’s Eddie’s favorite part of his day, talking to you, so he kicks himself when he realizes he forgot to call you last night.

He’s getting ready for bed when he remembers, and he practically sprints to his phone on his nightstand and dials your number in less than thirty seconds. It takes you three rings to answer, and Eddie smiles at the sound of your voice, “Hello?”

“Hi, princess,” Eddie responds.

You gasp, “Eddie, hi! Oh, I was just about to call you! Where have you been?” You ask. Eddie groans, dropping back onto his mattress with spread arms. “Working. I’m so sorry I forgot to call. I just started a new schedule at the shop, and the hours are awful.”

Eddie can hear your frown when you respond, “Bummer. I’ve got a way to cheer you up, though.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed, and sleep is so heavy in his bones he feels like he’s sinking through the mattress, but he smiles as if it’s second nature when he responds, “Hit me.”

You cheer, and Eddie hears the rustling of grocery bags on your end as you speak, “My manager gave me a shit ton of holiday chocolates she had left over, and well, I was wondering if you’d like to drown yourself in sugar with me?”

Eddie softly laughs, folding his arm to rest his hand on his tummy as he nods, forgetting you can’t see. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

The drive from your flat to Eddie’s is typically around twenty minutes, but with the benefit of it being nearly midnight and most normal people being in bed by now, you’re knocking on Eddie’s door in just a little under twelve minutes.

Eddie opens the door to let you in and immediately just wants to kiss you. You’re dressed in an oversized sweatshirt, loose pajama pants with cute little ducks printed on them, and fluffy house slippers. You grin up at Eddie as you lift a bag full of candy, “I come bearing gifts!”

Eddie had been exhausted all day, but now that he’s had two handfuls of sugary treats, he’s ready to run a fucking marathon.

He’s sucking on a sour apple jawbreaker and watching some shitty romcom with Banshee curled in his lap when he feels your head softly drop onto his shoulder. He glances down at you and sees the soft flutter of your eyes, “Are you tired? You can take my bed.” He offers.

You tilt your head to blink up at him tiredly, “Will you come with me?”

And well, Eddie was originally going to take the couch, but you’re looking up at him with these cute, bleary eyes, and Eddie can’t even imagine saying no. So, he shuts his TV off, makes a mental note to clean up the candy wrappers sometime tomorrow, and lets you drag him off to his room.

Banshee decided to take advantage of the new space on the couch and sprawl out, so Eddie doesn’t have to worry about asking if you’re okay with her cuddling up on his bed like she usually does.

Eddie doesn’t do this very often— sleep with other people in his bed, he means. And sure, he’s had partners before that would stay the night here and there, but he hasn’t had that in over a year now, so it’s safe to say that Eddie’s a little bit nervous.

He doesn’t know if you want to be close, but considering how cuddly you are on a daily basis, he’s not surprised when you press yourself into his side with a content sigh, snuggling deeper into the warm covers. He turns, shifting to wrap his arms around your frame, trying his best to ignore the fast beating of his heart in his chest— but that’s not the main issue. The bigger problem is— “Eddie? Are you hard?”

Shit.

God, this is awful. Nothing even remotely sexual happened, and Eddie’s popping a boner and practically stabbing your stomach. Fuck, you probably think he’s a perv now. Nice going.

“No.”

It falls silent for a moment, and Eddie can feel the quiver of your body as you giggle into his shoulder. He smiles, an embarrassed blush rising over her cheeks as he lifts a hand to palm at his eye, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You turn in Eddie’s arm, pressing a hand to Eddie’s shoulder to lay him on his back. You stay lying by his side, body pressed to him, head resting on his shoulder. You nose at the curly strands of hair on Eddie’s neck, and your hand runs down his torso, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. “O-oh. No, you don’t need to, princess.” Eddie says, yet his voice is shaky and holds anticipation as you drag your nails through the coarse hair leading to his cock.

“I want to. Please?” You ask. And you’re so good, so obedient, not touching Eddie’s cock until he swallows and nods his head yes. You wriggle, like a happy pup that got a treat, and your hand sinks lower, wrapping around the thick of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie’s breath hitches, sinking into the feeling of your warm hand stroking up his cock, your thumb running over his leaking tip. Eddie curses, hips twitching up into your hold, and you press a kiss to his jaw, and Eddie nearly bursts into stars.

You press another kiss to his jaw, soft and sweet, and Eddie slinks an arm around you, sinking his hands into your hair and shakily breathing. “You keep kissing me like that, and I’m gonna— fuck.”

And it’s so pathetic; you’ve only had your hand down his pants for less than five minutes, and Eddie’s quivering like a virgin having their first time. God, this is so embarrassing.

You kiss Eddie once more, “Wait, wait. Not yet.”

And then you shuffle away from Eddie, and he’s frowning because he feels cold without you snuggled against him. But then you’re sinking underneath the covers, and Eddie’s cursing, “W-what are you doing, honey?”

He lifts the covers just as you wriggle your way between his legs and hook your fingers over the band of his sweats. You peel his sweats away, mouth opening like a hungry lion when Eddie’s cock pops out. You push the front band of his sweats to catch just below his balls, and Eddie’s hips squirm from the pressure making you giggle when his cock twitches.

You loop your fingers around his cock, twisting up on a long stroke, “Did I ever tell you how pretty your cock is, Eddie?”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie breathes shakily through his nose, tummy quivering as your gaze flickers; he shakes his head no. Eddie sinks a hand to pet your hair back, smiling when you nuzzle into his touch, letting your lips brush against his tip, “You think it’s pretty, baby?” He asks.

You nod, letting your tongue loll out of your mouth to catch the pearl of pre-cum dripping from his tip. You don’t say anything else as you lean forward and wrap your mouth around him, languidly taking him as far as you want and sucking him for all he’s worth.

Eddie’s head drops back then, his entire body just losing strength to do anything as you slowly fuck your mouth over him. The blanket falls over you then, and Eddie curses, scrambling to push it back over your head so you don’t, like, suffocate on his cock.

And Eddie was already close before, so it doesn’t take long for him to start cursing and warning you that he’s gonna cum. Before he knows it, he’s emptying himself into the warm cavern of your mouth, soft mixes of curses and your name tumbling from his mouth as you happily take every last drop.

You pull off of him with a small pop, licking up the small remnants of cum that drool down his cock. Eddie feels weightless now; the effects of sugar are long gone now that you practically sucked his soul through his dick. You tuck Eddie back into his pants, and as if you couldn’t get any cuter, any sweeter, you press a gentle kiss to Eddie’s tummy right where the waistband sits.

Eddie’s got a loopy grin on his face when you crawl back up to snuggle back into his side, mumbling something about how you love licking his cock. Eddie nearly dies, by the way.

He thinks he’s in love with you, maybe.

You breathe in deep, draping an arm across Eddie’s tummy and slinking your leg between his, and you sigh all sleepy and cute as you say, “G’night, Eddie.”

Yeah. Eddie’s definitely in love with you.

Weeks go by as you and Eddie become thick as thieves.

You carry on with your nightly calls, obviously, but now there’s a healthy mix of one of you going to the other's home and crashing there for the night, then that bleeds into the next day where you just spend hours with each other doing fuck all.

Eddie just likes being around you. You don’t have to be doing anything particularly fun or sexual; no, Eddie just enjoys your company. And most times, you and Eddie will be doing your separate little activities— you reading or watching a movie while Eddie writes up new campaign ideas for Dustin— and you will reach out to twirl a strand of Eddie’s hair around your knuckle and gently tug or poke your finger into his cheek where his dimples reside and Eddie just melts.

Most of the time, you’re only doing it for your peace of mind (Eddie knows because you told him when he asked), but something tells him maybe you actually have something to say when you poke Eddie’s cheek for the third time.

He turns to you, brows raised and hiding beneath his bangs that so badly need a trim, “Yes, doll?”

You smile now that his attention is on you, and you shift, careful not to wake Banshee in your lap from your movements. Eddie thinks Banshee might like you more than she likes him, which is just downright traitorous, considering Eddie’s the one who feeds her and keeps a roof over her head. He doesn’t really blame the cat, though.

“What are you doing on Saturday?” You ask.

Eddie hums, closing his notebook and leaning back into his couch, “This Saturday?”

You nod, and Eddie shrugs, lips pouting as he speaks, “Nothing, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

You sigh heavily, sinking into the couch as you gently pet Banshee behind her ear, “We have an event for work, and I was just wondering if you would maybe wanna tag along?”

Eddie’s head tips in interest, “Sure. Is it, like, fancy dress shit?” He asks. Eddie thinks he has a tux somewhere deep in the trenches of his closet. Probably the one he wore to Wayne's wedding two years ago; he hopes he still fits.

You shrug, “Eh, nothing too fancy schmancy. Slacks and a nice shirt will do,” You mindlessly watch the television, gently rubbing Banshee’s ear between your fingers. “That I can do, princess. But uh,” Eddie pauses, “You don’t seem too ecstatic about this.” He points out.

You shrug, glancing over at Eddie, and Eddie wants to kiss your pouty lips because you look adorable swallowed up in a throw blanket with sleepy eyes blinking up at him. “S’cause I’m not,” You huff, “I hate those ignorant assholes— don’t get me wrong, some of them are good friends of mine! But most of them are just…” You make a face and roll your eyes, and Eddie softly laughs. You let your head lazily turn to gaze at him, “Don says I have to go, though. So I figured I may as well drag someone I actually enjoy being around.” You softly smile.

Eddie’s heart flutters and grows three times the size of his body.

Saturday night comes quicker than most, and Eddie spends nearly an hour digging through his closet. By the time Eddie finds a nice enough shirt to pair with his neatly ironed (to Eddie’s standard, which is probably not very high) slacks, he’s running behind and starts to stress that he won’t pick you up on time, and he’s just totally made an ass of himself.

It’s five o’clock when Eddie gets to your flat, and when he knocks on your door, he’s out of breath because he smokes more than a godman grill, and he skipped every other step on the staircase to get there quicker. He’s thinking of a million ways to apologize for being late, and he thinks he has it right when you open the door, but then— “Oh. Hey Eds! You’re early!”

Eddie huffs, nearly doubling over in exhaustion because he seriously needs to quit smoking, “Wha– early?”

You hold the door open for Eddie to step in and nod. You’re in a white fluffy robe with house boots on, and your hair is tied back, so you have a clear canvas to work with for your makeup. “Yeah, it starts at seven.”

And, oh, what the fuck? Here Eddie was stressing and thinking he’d completely ruined his chances with you because he decided to be an asshat and lose track of time on his video games, but in reality, he’s nearly two hours early?!

“Oh, but now you can help me pick a dress. Come on.”

No, Eddie has zero complaints, actually. He’s grateful that he’s timely challenged, he thinks as you drag him toward your room.

Eddie spends the next thirty minutes or so seated at the foot of your bed, judging whichever dresses you surprise him with from out of your closet.

It isn’t easy to give a solid answer because, well, you look good in all of them. And Eddie’s not even being biased because he’s got a sickening crush on you— no, you genuinely look amazing in every dress.

“Eddie, you’ve said yes to all of them.” You huff. “Because they all look good!” Eddie exclaims.

You frown, resting your hands on your hips and tilting your head at him. Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know why you’re upset with me when it’s technically your fault.” He points out, to which you roll your eyes and jokingly throw a dress at his face.

It takes a while for you to decide; by the time you’ve figured it out, there’s about forty minutes until the event begins.

The dress you landed on is evil, to say the least.

It’s a black puffy babydoll-style dress, except instead of a poofy top half, it’s tight fitting and pushes your chest up to sit nice and pretty, and the straps are thin, and Eddie thinks about the sound you’d make if he just reached out and teasingly snapped it against your skin. Wants to coo when you squirm and mewl and press yourself into him.

And the dress is so short, long enough to cover everything, but you wouldn’t have to bend over very far to flash a lucky person, and the sight of your thighs makes Eddie’s head spin.

He doesn’t know where the courage comes from because Eddie is anything but bold when it comes to people he has ridiculous crushes on, but Eddie couldn’t help himself, watching you bent over the sink as you do your last touch-ups to your makeup, the way your silky thighs rub against one another when you shift to get closer to the mirror— Eddie didn’t stand a chance.

He’s behind you before he knows it, and you’re smiling at him through the mirror, “Almost done, promise.” You say.

Eddie lets his hand slink around your waist, dropping his head to nuzzle into your neck, brown eyes fluttering up to hold your gaze through the glass as he kisses your skin before playfully nipping at you. You squeal, curling away from him, and he smiles as you push at him. “You’re cute,” Eddie softly says, and he grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip when you shy away from his gaze, “So pretty.” He adds.

Eddie turns you to face him as he presses you against the bathroom sink. He seeks your lips, but you pout and shake your head, “My lipgloss.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, careful not to catch any of the sticky application before sinking to his knees, hands gentle and greedy as they caress your thighs.

Eddie leans forward to kiss the inside of your knee, “Gonna let me taste you, honey?” He hums, leaning in the press a kiss further up the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches, legs subconsciously spreading wider to accommodate Eddie. Your nails dig into the countertop as you shakily breathe, “W-we’re gonna be late,” You weakly say as Eddie lets his tongue draw shapes in your skin. Eddie hums, sucking the fat of your thigh into his mouth before leaving with a pop, lips brushing against your hot skin as he says, “I’ll be quick. Promise.”

He doesn’t wait for your response as he coasts his hands up your thighs to loop his fingers around the band of your panties, dragging them down your legs and helping you step out of them.

Eddie doesn’t waste time then; he kisses a sloppy wet trail up the inside of your thigh, fingers digging into the fat of your skin and helping you spread open for him so he can nuzzle his head beneath the fluffy tulle of your dress and begin his task of devouring you. You’re wet, dripping, and throbbing for Eddie’s tongue, and this is the third time that Eddie has found himself licking into you, and god, it never gets fucking old.

The sounds you make, the way you writhe, the tiny gasps you give, and then the way your cunt pulses around his tongue— it’s the pinnacle of Eddie’s night, he already knows.

“E-Eddie— oh,” Your breathy whine makes Eddie stuff his face further into your pussy, nose brushing against your clit as he thrusts his tongue into you, your hands scrambling down to sink into Eddie’s hair and tug.

And it took Eddie longer than he’d like to admit to get his hair slicked into the neat bun he’s sporting, but with his tongue plunged deep inside of you and your pretty moans filling his ears, Eddie can’t seem to care that you’re definitely messing up his hard work.

Eddie could spend eternity here, down on his knees, under the dress of your skirt, lapping at your pussy like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. And sure, Eddie makes this conclusion, like, every single time he finds himself between your legs, but can you blame him? You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of dealing with.

You lift a leg to hook over Eddie’s shoulder, the heel of your foot pressing into his shoulder blade and pushing a moan from the depths of Eddie’s chest as he snuggles deeper into you, licking and sucking and nipping.

“S-so close…” You whimper, thighs beginning to quiver on each side of Eddie’s head. He fixes his grip on your hips because Eddie wouldn’t dream of letting you fall in his presence, and you’re standing on your tiptoes when you fumble over the edge, crying out for Eddie as you soak his tongue.

Eddie’s moaning into you, fingers massaging and caressing the thick parts of your hips and thighs as he continues working you through your orgasm. You’re twitching and heavily breathing when Eddie parts his mouth from your slick folds, strings of arousal and spit snapping and falling to his chin. God, it makes Eddie ache in his pants.

He presses sweet and sticky kisses to the insides of your thighs, savoring every moment he has here, breathing you in, tasting you, feeling you, hearing you. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that he looks like a madman when he brings his head out from under your dress, and you giggle, pressing your hand to your lips.

Eddie wants to hear that noise on repeat. Put his headphones on and, like, clean his house or something. Let your giggles play on a constant loop until they’re engrained into the grooves of his brain so he never has to go a second without hearing them.

“What?” Eddie smiles, hands still under your dress and soothingly squeezing the shaky muscles of your thighs. Your eyes are glazed from pleasure, and you look warm as you speak, “I– your hair,” You laugh. You press the wispy curls of Eddie’s bangs back, “I’m so sorry. It looked so nice, and I messed it up.” You happily frown.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your knee and shaking his head, “That’s okay,” He responds, reaching over for your panties to help you slip them back on. “It was for a good cause.” He winks.

Eddie doesn’t frequent fancy parties.

The fanciest event Eddie’s ever been to was a masquerade-themed dinner that he and Jeff snuck into because there were rumors of a big hit producer being there, which, big fucking shocker, they never found him since everyone was in a fucking mask. It was a waste of time, but at least they ate like kings that night.

Besides that, Eddie doesn’t go to fancy places— it’s just not his kind of scene. And it’s not like the event you’ve brought him to tonight is, like, Buckingham Palace tier, but everyone here looks like a million bucks and up, and Eddie’s not quite sure he’s up to that standard.

He would be more worried if you weren’t clinging to him like a koala bear and keeping him in light conversation.

You introduced Eddie to a few of your industry friends, and one or two of them even remembered Eddie from the films he’d done with you, which, Eddie doesn’t know why, but his head grew three times bigger in size from that. And for the most part, you keep to Eddie’s side, pointing out different people from across the room and telling him the lore behind them and whatnot as you share a plate of snacks.

And you love grapes, apparently, because Eddie’s had to get up and refill on them about three times now. “Do you want more?” Eddie asks when he realizes you’re almost done. You glance at him with a small smile as you nod, “I’ll get it this time, though. I want to try some of the cheese.”

So, Eddie nods and keeps an eye on you until the crowd obstructs his view. He busies himself with watching the room, tries to see if he can pick out anyone from any pornos he’s watched before he realizes that’s fucking weird and cringes at himself for being a perv. He finishes his glass of champagne, which Eddie isn’t a champagne guy, but it was either that or whiskey, and Eddie would rather not get shitfaced tonight.

And what’s taking you so long? You’ve been gone for a while now, and Eddie had first thought you maybe made a quick stop at the restrooms, but it’s been more than enough time, and he misses you (as fucking sappy as that is), so he gets up and makes his way to the food bar.

He’s got his empty flute in one hand and the other in his pocket, brown eyes softly scanning the room as he walks. And then he spots you, near the food where you said you’d be, with some guy talking to you, but something isn’t right.

Eddie’s spent enough time with you now to be able to tell when you’re feeling uneasy just by the way you anxiously drag your nail against the length of your thumb, the way your eyes dart around, or the tense pull of your shoulders.

Your gaze lands on Eddie, and your eyes soften, and Eddie doesn’t even have to think twice before he walks over.

The man's back is facing Eddie, so he doesn’t see the curly-headed boy until he steps around and slinks an arm around your waist, pulling you close with a soft smile, “Been looking for you, sweets.” He presses a kiss to your forehead as you sink into him.

“Mm, just catching up with..a friend.”

Eddie doesn’t miss the pause. He looks over to the man you’d been talking to, and you take a breath, “Eddie, this is Chris, a coworker.” You introduce the man. And Eddie remembers that name; he thinks he remembers seeing it on the script of the last film you and Eddie did together— the one where you’d asked Eddie to take over because the other guy was an asshole.

Chris reaches out a hand, “Chris. You must be a good friend of hers?”

Eddie doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like that he doesn’t refer to you by your name, or the smug grin on his face, or the sly tone in his voice when he says it.

And Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, okay. He doesn’t know why the words fly out of his mouth or why he didn’t, like, think it through, but suddenly, Eddie’s introducing himself as your boyfriend. Which, Eddie is not your boyfriend. And you’re not his girlfriend.

Eddie would love to be your boyfriend, and he’d love for you to be his girlfriend, but— but you’re not. So, Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, but he does, and god, it’s comedic how the guy's face falls. Eddie can feel your gaze on him, and he panics a little because what if Eddie just crossed the line big time?

Chris’s gaze flickers to you, and his brows raise as you look at him, “So, I take it this is why you’re only doing solo content now?”

Which, fucking gross. That’s definitely none of this meathead guy's business! So what if you’re making solo content only? And why does he know, and why does he care? God, this guy’s a creep.

But also… why are you only doing solo content? Eddie can’t help but wonder. Did something happen? Was it this asshole's fault? Eddie will kill him if he has anything to do with it. You and Eddie have become so close; you tell each other everything about everything, so why didn’t you tell him about this? It’s not a big deal or whatever, but—

“Does it matter?” Shit, Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud.

You’re both looking at Eddie in shock, and Eddie just blinks and waits for an answer.

You take in a deep breath, arm squeezing around Eddie’s as you answer— since this guy can’t take a fucking hint, “Yeah, actually, it is. Just didn’t feel right.” You shrug.

The guy nods, pursing his lips together, “Fair enough. Well, if that ever changes, you know where to find me.” He winks before turning around and leaving. Eddie cringes, and he almost steps forward to say something, to tell him to fuck off somewhere, but your grip tightens around his arms, and Eddie understands that you just want the conversation to be over.

Eddie’s quickly turning his attention to you, though, when you press yourself into his side, “Thank you.” You sweetly say.

Eddie nods, a warm hand reaching up to squeeze your hand that's resting over his bicep, “Don’t sweat it, princess. That guy’s a douche.” And you huff, nodding your head, “Yeah. You definitely scared him, though. It was pretty hot.”

Eddie tries not to let that get to his head.

He fails.

The rest of the night goes well with fewer dickhead run-ins and more grapes, and Eddie is more than Elated when you say it’s time to go.

The ride home is pleasant, and you’ve been extra cuddly all night, so Eddie’s heart is practically the size of Texas when you bring his hand into your lap and slink your fingers together. You’re spending the night, so Eddie’s kind of excited to get in bed and snuggle until you both pass out— but then Eddie’s thrown in for a loop when you both get under his covers.

Banshee is busy in her bakery down at the foot of the bed, kneading little biscuits in preparation for her sleep, and you’re fresh-faced and wrapped in one of Eddie’s shirts when you look over at him with a teasing look, “So,” you start, “You’re my boyfriend.”

Eddie blinks at you, wishing the bed would just let him sink in and become one with the mattress. “Oh god,” He groans, pressing his hands to his face, “I’m sorry, it just came out! That guy was being a dick, and it was the first thing that I thought of, and— god, I’m sorry.” He drags his hands over his face and shoots you an empathetic look. “You can totally, like, kick me in the nuts.”

And Eddie kind of braces himself for you to chew him out or something; tell him he’s a weirdo, and he’ll never in a million years get to call himself your boyfriend because you’re way out of his league. But then you giggle.

And it’s not the teasing ‘get a load of this loser’ giggle— no, it’s your sweet, kind, and adoring giggle.

“No, no. I was… I was wondering when you would ask, actually.”

Eddie’s never turned his head so fast. He thinks he imagined you saying it, like, maybe he drank too much champagne even though he literally only had less than two full glasses the entire night. “Huh? I– w-what do you mean?” Eddie gapes. “Like… like, ask you to be my girlfriend?”

And you’re so cute as you shyly nod, glancing at Eddie with this expectant gaze.

“Shit, well uh, I-I wanted to ask you in like a bigger way. Like flowers and shit because I… well, I really like you, and it’s what you deserve and—”

You cut Eddie off with a laugh and scoot closer to him, and if Eddie’s heart beats any faster, he might die. “Eddie,” You lowly and softly say, holding his gaze. Eddie nods, eyes darting down to your lips as he holds his breath. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Shit, Eddie’s never said yes so quickly in his life.

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a/n: HELLOOO! if you have made it to the end of this awfully long baby i am so thankful and appreciative of you, these two are my babies so I hope you enjoyed them as much as I've enjoyed my time with them <3 as always, thank u for reading and being here, i love and appreciate any feedback, ILYSM MWAH <3

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cutie teeny taglist: @vol2eddie @paleidiot @hideoutside

#happy reading !!#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson au #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x y/n

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