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peterthepark · 2 years

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little witch

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ graphic smut, rough sex, outdoor/public sex, blowjobs, dirty talk, weed, parties, unprotected piv, creampie, squirting, orgasm denial, dom!eddie

summary: a slutty witch costume combined with eddie’s determination to live up to his devilish attire creates a night that both of you are sure to remember.

a/n: definitely going 2 hell for this one. enjoy! recommend listening to tear u apart by she wants revenge or this season of the witch song :)

‘It’s gonna be fun,’ they told him. ‘Why would we pass up an invitation to the coolest party of the year when we never get these opportunities anyways?’ they said.

Jeff and Gareth are fucking idiots. Eddie doesn’t fit in here. None of them do. They stick out like terribly sore thumbs, and it’s nearly comical how obviously misplaced they are amongst this adolescent swarm of boring costumes.

Eddie looks like he walked straight out of the D&D dungeon master’s guide: devil-like horns attached to a flimsy headband that he had stolen from little Erica Sinclair, a red cape tucked into the collar of his signature Hellfire t-shirt, because — of course — how could he ever go a day without it? All of this coupled with a leather jacket, distressed denim and dark liner smudged around his eyes.

What is he exactly? It’s hard to say. His best description is: Izzy Stradlin of Guns N’ Roses meets the baatezu from the Nine Hells of Baator.

Or simply put – a sexy, red gothic devil.

Hawkins High’s infamous Halloween party sits right on the edge of a woodsy Indiana forest, nothing but oddly cut jack-o-lanterns and wax candles decorating the tops of tattered picnic tables. Hard soil and autumn leaves crunch beneath Eddie’s combat boots as he nurses his third solo cup of the night, already seeking for something stronger when he sees Jeff and Gareth being chatted up by a couple eager girls from the debate team.

Goddamn, do they really have more game than him?

He winces, lips curling into a distasteful frown as he busies himself by the candy table and slips a purple lollipop into his mouth with raised brows. In the corner of the crowd, Eddie glances at a couple making out by the beer keg that seem to be quite literally jumping at each other’s bones in public. Boo. He groans in annoyance, looking over his shoulder to find a classic blonde-brunette combo eating each other’s faces just as passionately.

Must be fucking nice.

Yeah, no. He’s going for a walk. Fuck this party and fuck everyone here, including Jeff and Gareth.

Never liked Halloween anyways. Always been more of a Valentine’s Day kind-of-guy.

Eddie crushes his solo cup and chucks it onto a random table, ignoring the protests of his classmates when he displays no intention of stopping or apologizing as he cooly saunters past. The silver chains strung across his belt loops jingle whilst he takes swift strides into the forest; the ruckus of the party fades behind him with each firm step he takes, the prominent wrinkles in his forehead softening as his ears free from a looping mixtape of Thriller.

He continues suckling on his lollipop, a stormy purple staining his tongue as he ventures deeper into the forest and away from that godforsaken, amateur highschool party. Whatever that fucking was, he’s over it. Completely and utterly over it.

That’s when he stumbles onto a clearing in the middle of the woods, surrounded by looming trees circling an old picnic table and…

You. Alone.

Eddie comes to a halt as soon as he sees the faint flickering of orange. Heavy curses fall from your lips as you tend to the tightly-rolled blunt between your fingers, a flame failing to ignite as a result of the cheap Zippo lighter in your opposite hand.

“Goddammit… shit… motherfucking…” You grunt, hurling the lighter in Eddie’s direction. He ducks immediately, eyes bulging out of his head like deer-in-headlights when you finally lock stares. Your childish gaze bounces from the discarded lighter to Eddie’s face. “I… um…”

He definitely knows you, even under the darkness of a haunting midnight sky. Definitely. He’s instantly taken back to the fall semester of his (second attempt) of senior year, having had you in a previous class where he often wondered what the pretty girl’s name who sat in the front was.

And said pretty girl is blinking at him expectantly.

Anyday now. Anyday. Say something, fucker.

“Need, uh, a light?”

Eddie digs his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket, fumbling with the boxy metal before you’re nodding at him with curious eyes and a soft smile. He quickly meets you halfway, feeling his heartbeat stutter when your manicured fingers brush against his palm and your warmth lingers upon his skin.

He takes in the sight of the witch hat resting atop your head, a classic black one that slopes into a swirl at the tip. Your lips are blood-red, almost complimenting the shade of Eddie’s cape and devil horns. A short, raven-colored dress hugs your body perfectly, the flowing sleeves flaring out by your hands as you successfully ignite the joint hanging from your faint smirk.

“Thanks.” You mumble, taking a heavy drag with an appreciative hum before you’re handing back his lighter and sitting down on the wooden bench. He follows suit, whispering a resigned ‘No problem’ as he plops himself onto the opposite end and tosses his lollipop stick to the side. “Party sucked?”

“Yeah, always does.”

“Oh, that’s never good.”

A pause.

“I like your costume…”

“Your costume is…”

The sentences fill the silence simultaneously, causing sincere laughter to follow suit on both parts as you sneakily glance at each other with wide grins. You lean over, sticking out your smaller palm with outstretched fingers. “Alright, I’m Y/N.”

Y/N, he repeats to himself.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, gingerly enveloping his hand overs yours as he gives it a gentle squeeze. “And I’m—“

“Eddie.” You smile brightly, flicking the blunt against the edge of the table. “I know you. Hellfire himself, right?”

You know him. As if his stomach wasn’t churning with excitement already… you know him — not as the long-haired freak walking the hallways of Hawkins High, but as Eddie “Hellfire Himself” Munson. He can’t fight off the blood that rushes to his face; pink spreads across the bridge of his nose and cheeks as he catches your intent gaze accompanied by that enticing curl of your red lips.

“Yes, it is I… in the flesh.” He chuckles. “And Y/N,” Your name is sweet on his tongue, the name he’d finally come to learn after many months of pointless pining in history class back then. The name that he can’t help but play over and over again in his head, a melody of syllables too gentle for someone of his candor. He points at you, stressing each word with gaiety. “Miss top of the class, graduating senior president, is that right?”

You shrug casually. “In the flesh.”

He huffs in amusement, scratching his neck before he shamelessly watches you finger the thick layering of necklaces swooping into the fleshy valley of your breasts. You clear your throat, hiding your own pleased expression as his eyes helplessly bounce back up to your face with that boyish fear of having been caught looking at places he shouldn’t have been looking at.

Fuck, is it getting hot or is it just him? Awkwardly, he shrugs off his leather jacket, haphazardly laying it over the bench.

Okay, could Eddie seriously blame himself? He’s respectful. He is. Believe him when he says he loves women, and men. Yet it’s almost as if you’re letting him look, angling your hips towards him and parting your knees ever-so-slightly so that your short dress strategically rides up the expanse of your thighs. If you hike your leg up just a little bit higher, he’d see… fuck, he doesn’t know you like that. Stop it.

Does it matter, though?

“So, Eddie, what’s the reasoning behind…” You shift closer to his side of the table. Eddie’s gaze follows the way your fingers dart for the collar of his cape, thumb and forefinger rubbing the fabric purposefully. Your eyes lock, the corners of your lips tugging into a contagious line that Eddie can’t help but mirror. “... this bold choice of costume? A red devil is never good news.”

He wants to wipe that smirk clean off of your mouth. Maybe take some of your lipstick with it, too.

“I’m a good boy today, Y/N. Promise.” He smiles, swearing that he feels your body stiffen against him. “But I mean… it is Halloween, of course. Everyone’s on their worst behavior, pissing their own pants, ready to rob kids for candy…” If he hadn’t been so glued to the glittery shadow around your lids and the smudged mascara under your lower lashes, he wouldn’t have seen your not-so-subtle attempt at glancing at his lap. “... making out in… haunted places. You know, the usual.”

You squint. “Right.”

“Mhm.”

The bench creaks as you stand up, fingers tugging the length of your minidress back over your ass as you kick one boot in front of the other. Eddie remains frozen in his place, reddish leaves trailing past his line of sight while you lean yourself against a tall tree trunk.

You’re teasing him.

He doesn't even fully know you, and he’s already hoping for certain ways this could go.

If you wanted to play that game, you could’ve just asked.

“You know people say these woods are haunted?” Crossing your ankles, your newfound companion doesn’t tear his eyes off of your ripped fishnets, savouring your generous display of cleavage and gorgeous hips as you pull your blunt away from your lips with a hiss and wave it around. “Back in the 1700s, after the Salem witch trials… there were actually rumors that there had been some runaway witches in Hawkins. Didn’t turn out too well for them in the end.”

“Yeah? What happened?” You push off of the tree with the heel of your boot, slowly pacing your way back towards Eddie.

His thighs are spread apart widely, ringed hands drumming patiently against the tattoos on his forearms.

Fuck, he looks good.

“Whatever happens to all witches, I suppose.” You grin mischievously with enthusiastic eyes. “But I’ve always heard these parts are… full of spirits because of the… well, y’know.” A beat, then your knee is slowly pressing up against Eddie’s as you stare at the ground shyly with fluttering lashes. “Shame no one’s living up to Halloween tradition and making out — like you said — in… such a haunted place like this one.”

He exhales shakily, clenching his jaw when you curiously peer at him. “Most definitely.”

“I mean…” You giggle and turn your back to him, unable to see Eddie’s face contort into one of disappointment from the loss of physical contact. “I’m certain there’s an adorable, lovesick couple just bound to show up and fulfill…”

When you twirl around to teasingly look at Eddie, you nearly gasp out of surprise when you collide roughly with his chest. Your balance nearly gives way, but not before his pale hands grip onto your wrists and hold you upright. His knuckles are prominent, eyebrows pulled into a deep furrow and lips parted as his lust-blown pupils eagerly search yours.

He’s struggling.

And you think… this is finally it. Eddie Munson, the guy from the back of class who you’ve always kinda had a thing for, is gonna actually kiss you. Halloween night. 1986. Your peak.

But what he does next is almost as jarring as a kiss.

He carefully takes the blunt between your fingers, almost assessing the image of your lipstick stain on the end before he’s shamelessly putting his own mouth on it without hesitation. His eyes. His fucking eyes. They never leave yours, even when he inhales the joint deeply and quickly lets out an experienced exhale into your embarrassingly stunned face.

Whatever confidence you had going diminishes into a tangled ball of nothingness when Eddie holds the roll in front of your mouth, gaze half-lidded and tongue poking out from between his teeth.

“Open,” He says. And so you follow without protest, unblinking and suddenly submissive as he slips the joint back into its original place between your lips with a devilish chuckle. “Atta girl. Does what she’s told, doesn’t she?”

You gulp, only focusing on the taste of Eddie amongst the rolling paper. “Depends on who’s telling me.”

“Right, right. So, if I posed an idea… like well, fulfilling that very special tradition of… say, I don’t know, making out in a haunted place… just to make sure we’re really nailing the Halloween festivities here, little witch…” He humorously flicks at your hat, costumed horns bouncing while he begins to back you up against a tree. Eddie’s grin somehow widens even more, pearly-white canines on display as you slowly take a step back with each step he takes forward. “You definitely, definitely wouldn’t help me fulfill it, would you? Since it… after all, depends. And I’m sure the senior class president doesn’t take orders from… student delinquents like me.”

“Eddie…” You manage to breathe out, joint falling from your mouth as your back presses against the rough texture of tree bark.

“I mean, honestly, what are you doing all alone back here? Just… waiting for someone to stumble upon you and… what? What then, Y/N?” He laughs innocently, and you instinctively squeeze your thighs together as his fingers toy with the chains decorating his belt loops.

“Honestly?” You gaze up at him from beneath the black rim of your witch hat, mascara delicately framing the whites of your eyes. “Saw a tempting, red devil on the way here — thought he looked a little too lonely for a night like this one, especially when he just looked so good in such a simple costume. ‘Was hoping he’d find me… all alone, like you said.” You bite your lip. Eddie tilts his chin up and pins you with his eyes. “Was hoping that you’d find me all alone, and that I could… fuck, you looked bored at — at the party, and I figured you’d…”

“Come out and meet you…” Eddie finishes. You nod slowly.

“Halloween festivities, you know.”

He hums. “Right.” It’s silent for a good minute, until you feel Eddie’s hand ghost over your arm, trailing up your shoulder with such gentleness, you wouldn’t have even realized he had been touching you in the first place. “Well, I guess… if this place is haunted like you said, and if we’re the only two people out here…”

“Yeah?” Your voice comes out as a hushed whimper.

Eddie’s ears perk up at the sound. He pauses to catch his breath, desperately holding onto the remnants of his self-control.

“Then maybe, just maybe, we could always follow tradition. Is that… is that what you wanted, Y/N? For me to come out here just so we could make-out in the dark, away from the noise, tucked away deep in the forest where… no one can hear us? No matter how loud we’ll get?” A breathy moan escapes from the back of your throat, and Eddie realizes that he’s broken past whatever act you had going on. “That’s it, isn’t it? Hey, come on. Look at me, Y/N.” You raise your chin from your chest, meeting Eddie’s now softer eyes. “What do you want from me?”

He reaches for your hat, pulling it up and away from your face before his palms are resting against your cheeks. “Um, want you to…”

“To…” He spurs you on, stroking your skin with his thumbs.

In the shadows, Eddie’s face is so desperately close to yours that you can just smell the strong fragrance of his earthy cologne and the faint lingering taste of whatever he had been drinking.

All or nothing.

“To kiss me.” You swallow loudly, forcing the words out of your mouth. “Kiss me and… and don’t stop, please? Eddie?”

His eyes bore deep into yours, nothing but a lustful twinkle in his near-black pupils as he inhales deeply.

“Damn it, Y/N. All you had to do was fucking ask from the start.”

By the time the words finally leave him, Eddie’s lips are on you. It’s far from sweet, aching with a clandestine fervor as his mouth moves harshly against yours. Hot. Searing. Wet. Your fists are woven tightly amongst the cotton of his Hellfire shirt, and you kiss him helplessly with eyes clenched-shut, the sensation of his warm tongue keeping you in a trance.

Overpowering. Imperfect. Messy.

Yet, you want more of him.

You feel the soft tickle of his breath beneath your nose, fingers rustling through his hair as you cave into one another with unrestrained motion. Warmth blossoms in Eddie’s stomach as you lean back against the tree trunk to pull away, the fresh memory of your moans dancing against his pillowy lips while you stumble for air.

“Was that okay?” He whispers tenderly. You could almost burst out in laughter. How could his tone be so patient and friendly when his kiss had been nothing but wanton and needy? Slowly, a smile spreads across your cheeks, a weak nod following. “Can I do it again?”

“You can do anything you want.” You answer, brushing his hair away from his face before his hands drift down to your waist.

The action is suggestive, fingers leaving deep indents in the supple flesh of where hip-meets-thigh as he slips his knee between your legs. Then his mouth is on your body again. He’s more adventurous this second time around, letting his lips trail over your shoulder and the conch of your ear before he’s kissing his way down your outstretched throat — biting, licking, sucking.

He’s hard. Really hard.

“Fuck, Y/N…” His voice is whiny, nothing but a simple rasp filling the air as you sensually tend to his pale neck, teeth nibbling the skin until porcelain turns to a blooming red. “S-Sweetheart, hey… I don’t… fucking hell, don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t want to—“

“But I want to. I’m okay if you’re okay.”

“Shit, okay. Okay. I… fuck, I wasn’t expecting more than a kiss, but…” He moans embarrassingly loud when you tug at the curls of his hair, tilting his chin back so that you have more access to his throat. “Fuck, I hope you don’t think I’m like — like any of those assholes back there… just… looking for a quick fuck or anything….”

“Were you not?”

“Fine, maybe I was. Maybe I wanted to — to run into a… pretty girl like you… sitting alone out here, all dressed up with a shitty fucking lighter, by the way. Bet that was part of your plan too, huh? Reel me in and smoke that pathetic joint like you’re all tough?” Eddie cradles the back of your neck with his hand, whispering lewdly against your lips as he searches for another kiss. “God, you’re so hot. So hot.”

“You didn’t even k-know my name…”

“Shut it. I do now, and I want nothing more than — fuck, than to just say it over and over again until you get tired of hearing it.”

“Yeah?” You smirk against Eddie’s skin, glancing up at his beat-red face and the lopsided devil horns on his head before gingerly reaching up to toss them aside.

He’s a devil, alright.

Eddie nods eagerly, eyes cracking open when he feels your mouth leave him and the familiar clicking sound of his belt buckle. Holy fucking shit. “Oh, here? Like right here f-for real?” He gapes at you as you unbutton his jeans, slipping your hand into his pants to palm at the hard front of his boxers.

“Having second thoughts?”

“You’re… you’re fucking insane.” He chuckles in disbelief, groaning quietly when you rest your forehead against his shoulder and free his cock from his clothing. Glancing up at the sky, Eddie humorously whispers to himself. “Oh, crazy girls will just be the death of me.”

“Eddie, you’re so big…” You wrap your fingers around his swollen tip, moaning as you collect the pre-cum leaking from his slit. You pump him a couple times in your hand, grinning as Eddie’s face falls into the crook of your neck. “Dunno if it’ll fit me.”

“Mmm… oh, Y/N — fuck…”

“Feels good?” You lick at his earlobe, purring as you run your digits across the two veins on either side of the base.

Eddie’s weight against you is nearly crushing, but you can only pay attention to the feeling of his hard, heavy cock twitching in your grasp as you stroke him.

“Christ, feels amazing. Fuck, baby…” The pet name leaves him without hesitation. He chokes on his own moans, incoherent praises falling from his lips as he desperately splays his palm against the tree for leverage. His eyes follow the motion of you spitting into your hand, before you’re covering his dick in bubbly spit. “O-Oh, shit… that’s hot. Motherfuckin’ Ozzy… m’fuck, you’re jerking me off s-so well. God, I wonder how — wonder how tight you are…”

“Want you…” You confess, mewling in pleasure as his other palm kneads at your ass. “I bet you taste so good, Eddie.”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” He groans needily, breaths stuttering in his throat as you sink to your knees. Leaves crunch beneath your limbs, sharp twigs digging into your calves as Eddie watches you tug his jeans lower down his hips. “Listen, o-once you put your mouth on me… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

“Mmm, stop what?” You innocently bat your lashes at him, gently flicking your tongue against his reddened head.

“To stop fucking your throat.” Eddie’s mouth falls ajar as soon as he feels you take him in. “I just… crap, I can’t help it. Just no self-control… please, let me fuck it? Yeah? Is that okay?” He whimpers. “Oh, you’re such a good girl, Y/N. Giving me all I-I want… fuck, can’t wait to get my hands on you…” Spit dribbles from your chin as you gag around him, feeling his dick poke against the back of your throat while he places his hands on either side of your head. “Look at you, baby. On your knees in the middle of t-the fucking forest… patiently waiting to have your entire mouth stuffed… s’what good girls do, don’t they?”

You scratch at the tattoos on his thighs as he gives one hard thrust into your face, nearly doubling back from the sudden force. Breathe. Just breathe through it. His cock isn’t necessarily too thick, but the length — god, he could split you open.

Eight inches, curve angling to the left, you can literally feel him prodding and poking at the inside of your cheek. Your fingers are curling against his skin, pornographic sounds erupting from the both of you as Eddie guides your head up and down his dick.

“Oh… little witch,” He chuckles devilishly, wiping the tears away from your eyes as he gently inches his cock further into your mouth. Sadist. “Don’t cry, it’s supposed to feel good. You like this, don’t you? God, what would all our classmates say if they walked in on this right now?” You nearly yelp as he pushes himself deeper into you, your knees giving out from under you so that you’re sat upright against the tree. “The super intelligent, super hot, senior class president… getting her mouth f-fucked by the resident freak… oh, just imagine the drama.”

Your legs are crudely spread open, dress covered in dirt and leaves as Eddie continues thrusting into your throat. All you can smell is him. All you can think about is Eddie Munson. How embarrassingly satisfying this all feels — just as much for you as for him.

“Fuck, Y/N. Your mouth is just… Christ, you’re perfect, aren’t you? Perfect thing. Perfect throat. Probably with an even better pussy… the things I wanna do to you. F-Fuck’s sake, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep looking at me like that, sweetheart.” He quickly pulls away, and it’s absolutely pathetic how you instinctively chase after his cock with your tongue until he’s tugging you up onto your feet. “Pretty girl, oh, look at you… wish you could see how messy you look right now. So fucking hot, so fucking dirty, you are.”

“E-Eddie…” You whimper as his teeth pinch at your collarbones, marking the tops of your breasts until he’s grown feral at the sight of his hickies on your skin. His dick is hard against your thigh, and only then are you reminded of how your cunt is helplessly throbbing at the sight of it. “Please, I… please, need you inside m-me…”

His hand roughly grasps at your chin.

“Yeah? Aw, you’re a needy thing, aren’t you? Such a filthy mouth for a good little slut…” He chuckles, mirroring your pout as his grip tightens. “Maybe we should wash it out, hm? All this flattery is just getting to my head. Come on. Say, ah.”

“Ah…” You moan as he spits onto your tongue, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lips together before he’s pulling you in for another heated kiss. His hands are bruising, his fingers cruel, his touch burning. “Please, Eddie…”

“Please what?”

“Please touch my — my…”

He smirks lustfully, brushing the moisture away from your lashes. “Oh, your pussy? Anything for you, sweetheart.” You yelp as he suddenly turns you around, cock twitching against your clothed ass. He pushes against you, walking you over to the rickety picnic table until you’re bent over the edge. “Boutta treat you so well, Y/N. Just relax for me. Gonna put my fingers inside you, is that cool?” You nod wordlessly, splinters digging into your palms as Eddie flips up your dress, hissing at the sight of your exposed cunt. “No… no panties, huh? Seriously? Fuck, you’re gonna kill me. Such a pretty ass… pretty holes…” He groans, swiping his thumb over your clit. You jolt at the sensation, shoulders heaving as he quickly swirls it over your entrance. “You’re so wet and already so sensitive… s’driving me insane. How am I ever gonna last?”

You cry out when he pushes his middle finger into you, juices squelching around his rings as he slowly fucks the nimble digit in and out of your sopping pussy. “F-Fuck, Eddie… I… feels so g-good, baby.”

“Yeah? Baby, huh? Love hearing you talk me through it. Tell me, have you always fantasized getting fingered out here? That’s a little sick in the head, don’t you think? And they call me a freak…” You glance at him over your shoulder, moaning unapologetically as he adds another finger. “Mmm, alright, you’re getting a bit loud. Fuck, you want that party to catch us? Catch us making a mess of each other back here… making each other feel so, so good?”

You knew Eddie had a dark, dirty side to him. There was no way he didn't have one, especially when he’d come to school dressed like that — chains on display for girls and guys to gawk at, rings decorating his fingers like they were his favorite asset.

Yeah. He’s just as fucked in the head, maybe even more.

You’re just glad you get to be the one to experience it.

“I don’t care. Let them hear us… fuck — it’s just…. oh, god… your fingers are just… they fill me so well. Just imagine your… your cock inside me, just wrecking my cunt, until I can’t take it anymore.” Eddie grabs you by the throat, letting his hand fall to your breasts and stomach as you fuck yourself on his fingers. “Oh, please, please, please!”

“Are you gonna cum? God, you’re having so much fun right now, you can’t even speak. Answer me, baby.” He cooes, the tip of his cock pressing against the sore cheek of your ass.

You screw your eyes shut, zeroing in on the pulsing pressure in your cunt. “Y-Yes! If you keep — if you keep touching me like that, I’m gonna…”

“No, you aren’t. You’re not gonna cum for me just yet.”

“But…”

“Nu-uh, no, no cumming.” Eddie’s mouth hovers over your ear. “Good girls cum when they're supposed to. Don’t change up on me now, Y/N. You’ve been doing so well.”

“I’m s-sorry, I can’t… can’t hold it…” You let out a strangled grunt when his fingers dig into your pulse points, fully constricting your airway as he hooks an arm around your stomach and pulls you to his chest. “Eddie, please. Wanna — wanna cum for you, just this once, an exception…”

“An exception? Sweetheart, I don’t even know you.” His eyes nearly roll back into his skull when your ass desperately grinds against him, your hand coming to rest back on his thigh as he subconsciously rocks against your shivering frame. “Fuck, but I guess I-I can try to get to know you, make it worth my while… an exception, tonight only. S’okay, Y/N. You can cum for me. Cum all you want, as hard as you need to.”

As soon as your thighs quiver around his hand, he lets go of your throat, using his now-free one to circle over your clit. You hadn’t even realized he’d been using three fingers to fuck your cunt — shit, when did that ever happen?

His mouth is hot against the slope of your shoulder, mirroring your mewls as you come undone all over his rings and knuckles. The heavy silver drips with your juices, slick coating the soft heel of his palm and the shuddering tip of Eddie’s aching cock. Your face is glazed over, chest rising and falling deeply as you collapse over the edge of the table in pure bliss.

“Fuck… fuck, that was so… good…” Eddie turns you in your hands, hoisting you up on the surface and barely giving you time to recover before you feel something slip between your folds. “Oh!” His thick head splits you open, a satisfying sting running through your body as he bottoms out and molds himself against your front. “E-Eddie!”

“I’m sorry. I know, I know it’s a lot for you, sweetheart…” He cups his hand over your mouth, muffling your sobs as he stills inside you. “Feels good though, yeah? Fuck, I can feel you squeezin’ me — holy shit, baby. Is this what you wanted? Is this your — your definition of Halloween tradition… getting your pussy filled up with my cock? You love it. You fucking love it, I can tell. I just couldn’t wait to have you… and it’s everything I-I could’ve ever dreamed of.”

“S’big, s’too big, Eds…”

“Hey, I got you…” He whispers, cradling your jaw in his palm. His warm, big eyes meet yours, a comforting brown lulling you into a trance as he thumbs at your lip. He leans in to kiss you, mouth slow and patient against yours as you gasp into him. “Gonna t-take care of you, promise. You’re gonna look so… so fucking hot with my… cum just drippin’ out…”

Eddie jerks his cock into you, before thrusting the rest of his length inside without forewarning. You cry out, vision blurring as he picks your witch hat off of the empty bench and places it on your head. “There we go, little witch… scream all you want, cry all you want… they won’t h-hear you…” Eddie pants out, purring as you reach under his shirt and run your nails down his toned stomach. “Not when they’re — fuck, blasting that awful fucking music…

“E-Eddie! Holy f-fucking shit!”

“Oh, such a shame they won’t hear all the pretty noises we make together.”

Your legs wrap around his hips, boots digging into the fabric of his cape as he fucks you hard into the creaking table. He rests his forehead to yours, nudging your nose with a sudden and sweet tenderness that has your walls fluttering around his prick.

Eddie Munson is ruthlessly fucking you in the forest.

And he’s fucking you hard.

Your hat is falling into your face. His lean arms are the only thing keeping you upright, the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin and pornographic moans filling the woodsy atmosphere. His cock pounds into your g-spot over and over again, thrusts sloppy and amateur as Eddie rests your ankles onto his shoulders for better access to your cunt.

Sure, you got up to bad things on Halloween… but this? This certainly takes the cake.

It’s absolute filth — with his long hair sticking to your sweaty skin, the stench of wet soil fighting Eddie’s musky cologne, the slick between your thighs as you cum for a second time around his length, milking him to his very-much-needed orgasm.

You can’t tell if it’s a grunt or a sob or a moan, but Eddie buries the noises against your tender neck, hips bucking lazily as he finally releases his spill into your pussy. He stutters and pulsates inside you, the angry head of his cock throbbing as he comes down from his high.

“Jesus, M-Mary, and Ozzy…” Eddie sighs out, whimpering while you lay back against the table and wipe the runny mascara away from your eyes. His own eyeliner is smudged too — almost a little too racoon-y for his liking — but it doesn’t matter.

Doesn’t matter when his cum is seeping out of your cunt and onto the wooden tabletop beneath you. Doesn’t matter when he watches you physically shake from your orgasm and takes in the sight of your bloodied knees.

Definitely doesn’t matter when you glance down at him and give him the prettiest fucked-out smile he’s ever seen.

Yeah, that’s for sure staying ingrained in his head.

“Fucking hell.” You breathe out, biting the nail of your thumb as Eddie gently nudges his seed back into your pussy with his fingers, obviously distracted. “Hey.”

How could he make such a dirty act seem absolutely innocent?

He shyly returns the grin, pulling his boxers and jeans up before he’s wrestling with the chains around his belt buckle. “Hey, you.”

“Help me up?” You stick your palm out, mirroring the same manner of the handshake you had given him in your first twenty seconds of speaking to each other. Eddie effortlessly pulls you off of the table, keeping a cautious arm around your waist when your legs start to wobble beneath you. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You take note of the way his nose lingers by the top of your head, inhaling your scent with a sudden yearning that makes your heart quicken when you bump against his chest.

Awkward clearings of throats, shy double takes and silent gazes at each other as you fix your wild appearances. Eddie’s unsure of what to say — goodbye? Farewell? Thank you? See you again?

God, would it be so lame if he wanted the last option?

But you beat him to it, syllables nervously strung together as you toy with his devil-horn headband in your hands. “Well, you, um, definitely lived up to tradition.”

“Did I now? Honestly just wondering how no one heard us.”

“Come on, it’s Halloween night in the middle of a haunted forest.” You blink up at him, fixing the rim of your witch hat as he peers down at you. “Have you ever seen a horror movie? You never go towards the screaming. It’s like the number one, all-time logical rule.”

Eddie waves a hand around, laughing comfortably at your presence of lightheartedness. “Oh, yeah. Never. For sure.” He huffs, glancing at his shoes before locking onto your soft eyes. His brain haywires at the sight of your doting expression, a contrast to the filthy-mouthed girl he had just been dealing with earlier. “Never.”

Snap out of it.

You clear your throat, dusting the front of your dress off as Eddie squares his shoulders and straightens his back. “So… then… I guess…”

He points at the dirt path leading to the party. “Right…”

“I’ll…”

“See you around?” He coughs out in a hopeful tone.

You don’t answer, just slowly stride past him with crunchy footsteps and a youthful smirk.

Then you’re suddenly turning on your heels and barrelling back to him, a warm hand cupping his jaw as you press a chaste kiss to his cheekbone. Eddie savors the moment, refusing to shut his eyes when you reach up on your tippy-toes and slip his horned headband back onto his mess of curls.

He looks at you as if you’ve just killed him. “You’re really something, you know that?”

Your stomach flutters. “Look, I enjoyed… tonight. And I… if ever you… you wanted to continue tradition…”

“Yeah?” He raises a brow.

“I mean, like… it doesn’t have to be yearly and it doesn’t have to be Halloween, but I…” You take a deep breath, letting your fingers trail down his jaw before your hand falls limp at your side. “I enjoyed. That’s it. And whenever you feel a bit… festive…” You exhale loudly, glancing away as Eddie tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Just come looking for me.”

You’re being absolutely serious with him.

“Okay.”

“Good.” You turn back and make a beeline for the party, unable to hide the blossoming smile on your face when you hear the familiar hymn of Eddie’s voice abruptly calling out your name. “Yes?”

A glimmering object is tossed in your direction, landing in your palms as you instinctively reach out to catch it.

His lighter.

“Keep it. It’s all yours.”

Somehow, your grin widens even more. “I’ll see you around, then.”

Maybe Eddie Munson is a Halloween kind-of-guy. So, fuck Valentine’s, because he could get used to this. Used to you. Either way, he’s glad that he’s still got more game than Jeff and Gareth — not that he seriously doubted it in the first place, but the assurance is there.

Turns out the sexy, red gothic devil worked out for him in the end, anyways.

“See you around, little witch.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things oneshot

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bougiebutchbinch · 4 months

Text

horrid little brainworm

Frenchie is still green at the start of the Kraken era.

He isn't, by the end.

But back then, when it all begins - when he isn't used to the sting of kohl-mixed sweat dripping into his eyes - he makes mistakes. Lots of them. Simple little things - fluffing a knot in the rigging that has their sail unfurling midway through the dogwatch, goods left unstowed to roll with the list of their ship.

Most of the time, Izzy yells himself hoarse for five minutes, then shows Frenchie how to fix it, interspersing his lecture with expletives. Whatever. That's fine. Let the little man scream - he's not the scariest thing aboard anymore.

Never was, really.

But then Blackbeard (Ed? The Kraken?) stomps out of his cabin, hair a black thundercloud, and snarls 'which one of you men is responsible for that fucking mop', pointing to some cleaning equipment Frenchie forgot to pack away.

And everything goes still, as if they're becalmed.

[CW: whipping, abuse, non-explicit mentions of Frenchie's past locked-box traumas]

No one says Frenchie's name - not even Izzy. He just ducks his chin and refuses to look his captain in the eye. But the eyes of every other crewmember jump guiltily to Frenchie, at least once - and Blackbeard is too smart to miss such a tell.

"A ship needs discipline," he says. "Isn't that what you always tell me, Iz?"

"I'll attend to it," says Izzy, voice scratchier than ever. Frenchie knows this is a bad fucking situation - memories battering against the inside of his locked box, trying to get out - but somehow he can't feel fear. Can't really feel anything.

"With the cat," says Blackbeard. "Give the culprit fifteen. Really make the lesson stick."

Ah. There's the fear.

Frenchie's breath stifles itself halfway up his throat, as screams sneak through the keyhole of his box, along with the crack of a whip -

No. No, no, no. He can't. Not again, he can't -

Izzy glances up. Frenchie expects him to grin, all vindictive sadism - but whatever he sees on Frenchie's face has his mouth pulling into a tight line.

"Yes, sir," he says, though Frenchie barely hears over the dull roar of his heart.

He casts his gaze about, looking for an escape. Over the side? They're too far from land, but fuck, if it isn't tempting -

Jim fondles their knives, glaring mutinously at Blackbeard's back as he returns to his cabin. They don't spring after him (though Frenchie selfishly wishes they would). They're well aware - as is everyone - that right now, with Blackbeard black-eyed and bloodthirsty, they'd lose.

Izzy swallows. Shuts his eyes. Then calls for Fang to fetch the cat.

Frenchie loses time then. Scarcely a blink passes before Fang reappears above the deck, the strings of the knotted whip scraping the floor like the tentacles of a shrunken sea-monster.

They're flaky with rusty residue. Old, dried blood.

Frenchie's fingers twitch in the chords of the first song his Ma taught him. No rituals or superstitions will save him. Nothing will. Because his old crew are marooned, almost certainly dead, and his new crew are - with the exception of Fang and Jim and Ivan - fucking monsters.

He's going to be whipped (again). He's going to shred open all those old scars. The box is going to open, and -

Oh, God. Oh God. Fifteen lashes is survivable (Frenchie knows, he knows) but he's still not sure if anything of himself will emerge from the other side.

He's still frozen, staring at the whip held in Fang's big hands, flat out like he's presenting it to Izzy. Only... Izzy doesn't take it.

No, Izzy moves to stand in front of the mast. Walking stiff, with a bit of a limp. While Frenchie's reeling, struggling to process what's happening, he yanks off his shirt. And - fuck, his back is almost as ugly a sight as Frenchie knows his own would be, if he could bear to study it in a mirror.

A few of the crew draw shocked inhales. Most don't look surprised.

Frenchie is one of the latter group. Sound travels, on a ship.

"Um," says Fang, cat dangling limp. "Boss?"

Izzy grabs the hawsers wrapped around the mainmast. Heaves a deep breath. Rests his forehead against the wood.

"You heard the captain," he croaks. "Fifteen lashes."

Fang's eyes are moist - though they are more often than not, nowadays. "Boss - "

"The captain wants the culprit disciplined," Izzy says. His muscles flex beneath their coating of scars. Bracing himself, Frenchie's mind supplies. For the oncoming pain. Not that any amount of tensing is ever enough. "First mate's responsible for maintaining a tidy deck."

This turn of events finally settles into Frenchie's bones. The whip's not for him, thank everything. His key slides gratefully into the lock of his box and turns, ensuring it's shut tight.

Still, sickness churns in his guts. Last week, sleep eluded him. He'd intended to skulk above decks and breathe the sea air to clear his head. He never made it - because who should stagger out of the captain's cabin, so dead-eyed he didn't even notice Frenchie lurking in the shadows of the galley door, but the Revenge's thrice-cursed angry gremlin of a first mate?

Izzy hadn't looked much like a gremlin then, though. Doesn't now, either. Just looks. Tired. And old. And bruised to shit beneath his shirt, and not all of those lash marks are old, weathered scars, and -

Frenchie's fingers twitch more rapidly, pressing through their imaginary chord sequence.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit -

"Fifteen lashes," Izzy reminds Fang. "If you can't do it, anyone else is free to step up. I'm sure there'll be fucking volunteers."

Frenchie eyes Jim. They and Izzy aren't exactly friends - not when Frenchie has heard them mumble a word that sounds horrifically close to 'Oluwande' in their sleep.

But Jim stays right where they are. Hand on the hilt of a knife. Ivan emulates, and, well, Frenchie's feet have damn near put down roots. He couldn't move from this spot if he was ordered to.

Fang's tears well over, and his hand shakes on the whip handle to the point where Frenchie thinks he might drop it.

A clash from the great cabin has them all jumping - all but Izzy, who rests his cheek on the mast like it's a particularly splintery pillow, eyes drifting shut. Blackbeard barges back out, sousing the air with body odour and smoke and self-hatred and whatever the fuck else he's been marinating in.

"What's the fucking wait?" he demands. "I expected way more screams by now." He halts, frowning at the sight of Izzy, stood where Frenchie ought to be (because fuck, he shouldn't have left that mop and bucket out; how many times has Izzy told him - ). For a moment, the harsh line of his brows crumples on itself in something that could be mistaken for regret. But then that dark sneer crawls onto his lips, the one with which the whole crew is becoming familiar. "Can't pick who gets the privilege, eh? Well, lucky for the lot of you, that's what a captain's for."

He stalks forwards, feline-graceful. Frenchie scuttles from his path. When Blackbeard snatches the whip from Fang (not seeming to notice his whimper, his flinch) Frenchie fully anticipates that he'll turn on Izzy, not him.

He certainly doesn't expect Blackbeard to smile, cold and white as a toenail moon, and thrust the whip towards him, hilt first.

"Oh, no." Frenchie raises both hands in surrender. "No, no, no. I couldn't. Awful with a whip, me. Wouldn't, um..." There's the noise of it again, slithering out through the keyhole of his box. The swish. The crack. The scream. "Wouldn't be able to strike hard enough," he stutters. "No upper body strength, yeah."

Blackbeard doesn't approach Frenchie. Just keeps the whip held out towards him, like the accusative finger of a god.

"You give him fifteen," he says, gently. "And make each one count. Or I give him fifty."

Against the mast, Izzy makes a sound - not quite a whimper. Worse; it's far too much like relief. His hands don't shake, but only because they grip the hawser tight as rigor mortis.

Fifty can kill. Has killed before. Frenchie's seen it.

But Blackbeard doesn't want Izzy dead, right? Who would he torture then?

Blackbeard's blank, lifeless eyes pour into Frenchie's.

Who indeed?

Fuck. Frenchie swallows dry. He tells himself it's for self-preservation that he unsticks his boots from the deck and shuffles forth to take the whip. Not for Izzy. Not like he likes the angry little prick. Man's vicious as a cat and thrice as cursed.

Maybe, if Frenchie tells himself that, it'll make this memory easier to lock away with all the rest.

"Ready?" he asks Izzy, softer than he intends. Izzy twists over his scarred shoulder. He looks at Frenchie - really looks at him - for what feels like the first time. Not even glancing to his left, where the Kraken lurks.

Frenchie can't decipher his expression. Pity, for whatever made him offer himself up in Frenchie's place? Frustration, that Frenchie prevented Blackbeard from whipping him into the grave? Misery and fear - no, that's far too sane for a guy like Izzy.

Izzy turns back to the mast.

"Give me your worst," he says.

Frenchie breathes in, breathes out, and obeys.

#ouizzy #ofmd frenchie #ofmd izzy #izzy hands #ed teach born on a beach #israel hands #ofmd ed #edward teach #blackbeard #my fic #bbb creates #our flag means death #ofmd fanfic #frenchie #ofmd jim #jim jimenez

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