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littlexdeaths · 2 days

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precious - e.m.

y2k eddie munson x girly reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: oral (fem receiving), fingering, spitting, eddie is a menace… but a cute one.

opposites attract masterlist

word count: 1k

a/n: another repost from my opposites attract series. i missed our feral, goblin boyfriend. so i hope you all enjoy xx.

He’s been in between your thighs for the better part of an hour, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers now long forgotten in the background.

You had gotten Eddie the box set earlier that day as a surprise gift. So of course, your boyfriend wanted to spend the whole day having a movie marathon. And you were more than happy to oblige.

But the only problem was you.

You in your short pleated skirt and pink top that seemed to leave very little to the imagination. You were driving him absolutely crazy, despite not meaning to.

The brunette somehow managed to make it through the first film without caving. But each time you shifted positions, your cotton candy perfume would engulf his senses completely. Reminding him how sweet you were, and just how bad he’d missed tasting you.

So could you blame him for being too distracted to appreciate the gift?

After popping the second film in the dvd player, you joined him back on the sofa. The darkness of the room concealing the boner he’s been struggling with for the past three hours.

So when his hand started drifting up your bare thigh, you didn’t think anything of it. That is until his fingers began tracing the outline of your panties, snapping the elastic against your skin.

His head dips, lips grazing against the shell of your ear.

“We wants it, we needs it…”

Eddie’s voice had dropped an octave, gravely as he did his best impression of the creepy, crawly creature from the film.

You lightly smack his shoulder as he starts laughing, the sound filling the small room. But once he sees the look on your face he settles, nuzzling his face into the skin of your neck.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let me try that again,” he hums as his lips trail further down to your collarbone, nipping lightly at your skin.

A small gasp leaves you as he begins sucking, tingles shooting straight to your core.

“Wanna taste you, doll… can I?” He asks, his voice just as deep as before— but the silliness of the previous moment is gone.

Only desperation laces his tone as his fingers slip underneath your panties. The male groans at the wetness he finds, the sound leaving you a little breathless.

“Please,” you whine, lips jutting out in a small pout.

That’s the only answer he needs before he’s detaching himself from you. Grinning mischievously as he slides off the sofa, working himself between your thighs. Your panties are removed almost haphazardly, making you giggle at his eagerness.

Eddie quickly tosses your legs over his shoulders, diving in immediately. Despite how eager he seemed, he slowly dragged his tongue through your soaked folds. Your boyfriend wanted to take his time, to savor each and every drop you were giving him.

Flash forward to almost an hour later, your fingers are tangled in his dark curls as he continues to lap at your overly sensitive cunt. Eddie was being a tease, getting you closer and closer to the edge before slowing down again.

It was his turn to drive you absolutely crazy. While simultaneously turning you into a needy mess under his skillful tongue. He suddenly pulls back for a moment, the glow from the tv highlighting the juices smeared across his chin.

The male gathers some of it on his fingers, eagerly sucking the digits into his mouth with a deep growl.

“Mmm, my precious.”

Before you have time to scold him he’s back between your thighs, a crazed cackle leaves him as he sucks harshly on your clit. Eddie eagerly slips those same fingers that were just in his mouth, back inside you. He curls them up to brush against your sweet spot, causing you to cry out as he increases his pace.

Any semblance of taking things slow is now thrown out the window, as he licks and sucks at you like a starved animal. Your fingers find their way back into his hair, nails digging into his scalp.

“That’s it, such a good. fucking. girl.” He growls each word pointedly, thrusting his fingers in tandem with his vulgarity.

Your walls clench harder around the digits due to his praise, greedily grinding your hips down against them. A whimper escapes you as he leans back, spitting onto your already soaked pussy. But he doesn’t give you much time to process as his tongue begins to mix his salvia with your slick.

He slides a third finger into your tight heat, the sounds of your arousal now over powering the film still playing on the television. Your body is buzzing as your thighs begin to tremble around his head.

“Squeezing me so tight, baby, fuck. You gonna cum for me?” His voice is muffled as he puts more pressure on your swollen clit.

And in that moment, you can’t find the words to answer him— only a high pitched moan leaves your lips.

Eddie chuckles against you, the vibrations bring you that much closer to the edge. Your hips begin to buck up wildly, desperate for that promise of release.

But your boyfriend is quick to force them back down with his free hand. Preventing any further squirming as he drills his fingers into your needy cunt, taking everything he’s giving you in stride.

“Gimme all your cum, sweetheart,” he groans deeply, finding yourself unable to hold back anymore.

After being edged for the better part of an hour, your body convulses as you finally fall over that precipice. Crying out his name repeatedly as he continues to work you through the most intense orgasm he’s ever given you.

Your body suddenly slumps against the sofa, completely spent. A soft whine leaves your lips as you tug on his disheveled curls to lift his head. His dark eyes lock with your half lidded ones, that mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Eddie gladly crawls his way up your body to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on his tongue, your juices now smeared across your chin.

You can feel the sticky, warm denim of his jeans pressing against your thigh. The sudden realization has you giggling into his mouth.

“Mmm,” he hums, “Precious is pleased?”

#the freak writes 🫧#my series: opposites attract 🫧#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #y2k!eddie munson x girly reader #y2k!eddie munson #early 2000s!eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader

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urhoneycombwitch · 3 days

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your ideas on dm eddie!!!!?????

like i need more of him being in charge and reader just is like no no

replying to this with another anon

18+ mdni

he would be so easily corruptible. like one session you all have to stop mid-game (it’s been 4 hours but everyone got so lost in the storytelling!!) to get the kids home before curfew. and it was just getting good, too- the knight’s brigade with you as their commander, riding on proud horseback into the rumored-to-be-dragon-infested-forest.

and later that night, after you’ve carpooled everyone to their respective homes, you settle in at Eddie’s for a movie.

but it’s not five minutes in until you’ve got a hand under the band of Eddie’s sweats, fist slick around his cock. you’re biting at that hotspot behind his ear and he’s trying to be good, keeping his hips down even though he’s longing to just fuck up into your tight hand.

Eddie lets out a little whine when you thumb at his slit- and then your voice is low at his ear, murmuring, “no dragons in that forest, right baby?”

he can’t be faulted for not answering right away, ‘cuz your other hand has slipped to cup his balls and your thumb is pressing into indecent places-

“h-what?” Eddie pants, stomach flexing, using real effort to stave off coming. “no dragon… where?”

“in the forest, baby,” you coo, patient in tone but speeding up your jacking-off rhythm.

his cock throbs in response. Eddie moans.

you sink a lovebite into the dip of his shoulder before you continue, saccharine- “gonna make it real easy on me and my knights tomorrow, right?”

and he didn’t have a choice, goddammit, you’d jacked him right up against a wall, he had to strangle out a “yes” so that you wouldn’t stop your pretty hands from moving.

“come.” as soon as you whisper the command at him he’s gone, spilling thick ropes of pearly white into his sweatpants, letting his hips jerk forward as you coax the last of his spend with a squeezing upwards twist.

his head lolls against the back of the couch, chest heaving, bright spots of pink in his cheeks. “vixen. witch. you’re a sorceress.”

“nope.” you pop the p before sucking the mess from your fingers into your mouth, Eddie watching with lust-blown pupils. “I’m just a knight with a slut for a DM.”

#sub!eddie #eddie munson x reader #lu’s anons #eddie munson #e.m. thots from lu #eddie munson smut

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jimraisedmeup · 1 day

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TICK // 0.1 Eddie Munson

☾

Synopsis: what did your parents think of you? did they worry what strangers on the street might perceive? did they wake in a cold sweat, unable to sleep over fears of their community whispering behind their backs? did bile rise in their throats as they smelled sweat, cigarettes, and fornication on their eldest daughter?

good. clutch those fucking pearls.

"that Buckley girl is going to hell, what a waste of life."

(While this prologue takes place in Season 4 of Stranger Things, the majority of TICK will be set in the years prior, cause I mean for the love of all that is holy, Eddie deserves a backstory)

Rating: Overall this is an explicit slow-ish burn, but each chapter will be labeled accordingly!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!OC (Robin's older sister)

A/N: I posted this a couple years ago on Wattpad, took it down because I was in a terrible place in my life. Of course, being the sadistic goblin that I am, here you go... that haunting year of my life actually spawned something beautiful. 21 chapters of TICK are already written out, ready to be revised & reborn. I am open to comments/suggestions/requests.

☾ TICK // 0.1 - prologue

☾

Robin sighed, rubbing her left temple and looking around the video store.

"Guys… my sister might know where Eddie is hiding."

Dustin raised an eyebrow as Max scoffed, hand on her hip.

"Since when do you have a sister?"

Exasperatedly, Robin grabbed one of the phones and handed it to Max. "Since forever,” the brunette explained with a grimace. “She graduated last year. But she won't help us if I call her. One of you better do it. She isn't… she's a very private person."

Drumming his fingers on the countertop, Dustin pressed Robin. "And why exactly do you think your sister knows where Eddie is?"

“Umm…” Robin’s voice reduced to a mumble as she coughed out the last bit: “he's her... ex… boyfriend?”

Two pairs of young, wide eyes stared at her. “What?”

"They kinda used to date, or whatever. A couple years ago."

Max snatched the phone from her, annoyed with the wasted time. "Just give me her number. I doubt she's that bad, if she fell from the same tree as you."

Frantic, Robin's hands were in the air. "That's the thing! I swear she was actually raised by wolves or something."

"Just dial, Robin!"

The phone rang three times as Robin and Dustin stared at Max in anticipation.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this… uh… Ms. Buckley?"

You hesitated, suddenly feeling feral and defensive, as an instant layer of sweat formed on your palm that was holding the phone.

"Might be. This better be a damn good reason to bother me in the middle of a perfectly good Saturday."

Max felt a little intimidated by the tone in your voice. "Well, I was wondering if you had seen or heard from Eddie Munson recently?"

On the other end of the line, you snorted rudely at Max's question.

"Why? Does he want his virginity back?"

☾

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddiemunson #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #eddie munson slow burn #eddie x you #eddie munson x you

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munsonsmixtapes · 3 days

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Better Late Than Never

Pairing: Eddie x fem!reader

Summary: a bathroom counter make out with your husband, Eddie

word count: 1,509

cw: none!

The bathroom counter was cluttered with various makeup products and brushes that you had been using to get ready for the night. You were always so caught up in perfecting your looks that you barely even noticed when you had made such a mess until it was time to clean up. Maybe it was unfair to the person who you shared the bathroom with, but he hardly minded.

Eddie, your husband, was sitting on the counter next to your sink, watching you like he always insisted on doing any time you got ready. He claimed to find the whole process fascinating, loving the techniques you used to apply everything. He was always there to give you feedback and hype you up no matter how crazy or weird of a look you were doing. He was your number one fan no matter what.

You grabbed your eyeliner pencil that had been sitting on the counter next to Eddie and gave him a smile as you did so. The smile was returned, love clear in his eyes. He reached for your hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it before letting you have it back.

You applied the eyeliner to your upper and lower lash lines then pulled down your bottom lid to line your waterline. Eddie always found that part particularly fascinating; how it always seemed to make the whole thing come together. Especially when it all smudged after a full day of wearing it.

Maybe he liked it so much because he wished he could wear it. He wanted to, and had even wanted to ask you to help him apply it, but he could never get the guts. He had recited his vows to you in front of a whole church full of people, but couldn’t ask for a little liner? Why did it scare him so much?

You turned to him and he hadn’t realized that he had been so close until he noticed that your noses were almost touching. You could see him eyeing the pencil in your hand and knew exactly what he was wanting. You weren’t sure why he wouldn’t just come out and say it. You wouldn't have judged him. In fact, you thought that men wearing eyeliner was hot.

“Do you want some, honey?” You asked, and he just nodded.

“Please?” He asked and you moved to stand in between his legs. He grabbed hold of your waist and you took the eyeliner and slowly lifted it up to his left eye, giving him a chance to back out if he wanted to.

“Close your eyes,” You instructed and he obeyed, closing his eyes. You slowly and gently lined the top lid, rubbing it with your finger to give it the smoky look. You thought that would look the best with his eye shape and color. You then lined the bottom lid, doing the exact same thing before moving to the other eye, trying your best to make them look somewhat even.

“Waterline too?” You asked and he just furrowed his eyebrows. He wasn't up to date on the makeup terminology so he honestly had no idea what you were talking about. “Here,” you pointed to the spot on yourself and he nodded enthusiastically.

You lowered his bottom eyelid and moved as quickly as possible since it was his first time and you knew it could feel uncomfortable. You then lined his other eye then pulled back to examine your work, nodding to yourself in approval. You grabbed your mirror from your makeup bag and handed it to Eddie so he could see for himself before moving out of the way so he could get a better look.

He let out a gasp at his reflection, moving the mirror every which way to see it at different angles, his mouth agape. He couldn’t believe how good he looked, how hot. He knew that you were good at doing makeup, but you had truly outdone yourself. You made him look like the rockstars he had always looked up to, the ones he aspired to be just like. Now that he had a little taste, he was going to have to ask you to do it for him everyday.

“Darling,” he gasped again. “I look hot.” He set the mirror aside so he could see you again and beckoned you forward with his pointer finger. You stepped between his legs once again and he rested his hands on your waist, pulling you closer before wrapping his arms around you.

“I agree,” you nodded. “But I always think you’re hot.”

“Babe, do you have a crush on me?” He teased and you just rolled your eyes.

“Eddie,” you chuckled. “We’re literally married.”

“Just answer the question, y/n.” He pulled you closer to him, his lips right by your ear.

“Yes, Eds, I have a crush on you.” Sometimes he was so ridiculous, but you couldn’t help but love him. He made it so easy.

“Don’t say that too loud, my wife might hear you,” he whispered, making goosebumps rise on your arms. “Now give me some sugar.”

You pressed your lips to his in a quick peck and tried to move away, but his arms only wrapped around you tighter. You let out a laugh at how childish he was acting. He didn’t play when it came to your kisses. If he had it his way, he would have kissed you forever.

“Eddie,” you laughed. “We have to finish getting ready.”

“One kiss and I’ll let you go.” You knew there was no getting out of it, but you didn’t mind. Not at all.

“Needy,” you replied, leaning into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands rubbed along your back as his face inched towards yours.

“Very.” His lips slotted between yours in a gentle kiss which was typical to expect when he had asked. Those kinds of kisses were always filled with so much love, as if he was trying to show you exactly how he felt with his lips.

His arms tightened around you as he licked into your mouth. You let out a laugh as you pulled away, Eddie trying to chase your lips as you did so.

“Eddie,” you chuckled. “We’re going to be late.” You both were supposed to be at Robin’s in twenty minutes for her birthday party and now you were definitely going to be late. She shouldn’t have been surprised, though. This was very like you and Eddie since you had become a couple all those years ago.

You had become the kind of couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. But only behind closed doors. When in public, the most you would do was hold hands. Over time, your entire friend group had become aware of your inability to be able to keep your hands to yourselves and made fun of you for it. It had become a joke between all of them and you had let them laugh because it had been true, after all.

“So?” He pressed another kiss to your lips. “Everyone already assumes we’re going to be late anyway. Why not take advantage?” Another kiss, this one lingering.

“Eddie, we can’t fuck right now,” you rolled your eyes.

“No one said anything about fucking, darling. I just want some kisses. Can you do that for your hubby?”

“If you never refer to yourself as my hubby ever again.”

“Consider it a deal, sugar.” He pulled you in for another kiss, taking no time to swipe his tongue along your bottom lip. You opened your mouth, letting him inside. His tongue roamed around, roughly scraping against yours. His legs wrapped around your waist, causing the two of you to be chest to chest.

Eddie leaned into you, his hands moving down your back only to go up your shirt and underneath your bra. He lifted your shirt over your head, setting it next to him before removing his own. His lips pressed to your neck then moved down to your shoulder, moving the strap of your bra to give him more access.

“So pretty,” he mumbled against your shoulder. “So so pretty.”

“You’re the pretty one,” you replied and his lips moved back up to yours.

“Let’s agree that we’re both pretty, okay?” You supposed you could agree to that. Although, you liked having the little argument about who was prettier. He was always going to win that competition.

“Sounds good,” you replied, moving your hands to his hair, pressing your lips to his once more. Your fingers pressed into his scalp as you licked into his mouth and he let out a moan as you grabbed a fistful of his hair.

“So good, baby,” he whined, his legs wrapping tighter around your waist. You backed away and he removed his legs from you. He then leapt off the counter and you took him by the hand to lead him to your shared bedroom. You were so going to be late to the party.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut

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succubusmunson · 3 days

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thinking about how eddie can spend hours between your thighs, eating you out until you’re cumming over and over again. he doesn’t care how sensitive you are or how’re you’re trying to push him away (even though you can always take more). you’re he’s good girl, he makes sure you take whatever he gives.

and all for his pleasure only.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic

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undead-supernova · 2 days

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Masterlist / 18+

Part 1 - Boring

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

plot: eddie runs into you unexpectedly and you think it's time to have that date a little early

contains: eddie lacking confidence, confident!reader, get to know Eddie and the reader a little better, making out, kids this is a bit more than pg-13 I'll tell you that much without spoiling it

note: sorry guys, I'm not done with this. maybe far from it. they have a dynamic unlike any other and I'm here for it.

wc: 4k

The library was maybe the last place Eddie wanted to be at one in the afternoon on a Tuesday. It was always overcrowded, riddled with students running around with coffee from the adjoining Starbucks.

But Eddie needed a new book, having told himself that rereading The Hobbit the third time this semester was…unnecessary. Plus, his English professor told him that “we can only enact change ourselves.”

Maybe it was a sign. Because as Eddie passed the large glass windows, he saw you sitting at one of the booths.

You looked different from every Saturday night. No makeup, hardly any jewelry except for a thin gold necklace and several rings. An oversized t-shirt and, from his vantage point, you were wearing a pleated skirt. He even noticed that your high-top Converse were placed next to you, mismatched patterned socks adorning your feet.

And, fuck, Eddie couldn’t help the excitement rising inside him. It should’ve embarrassed him when he started jogging towards the front door, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. All he could think about was the sound of your voice and your eyes and your touch and your kiss.

He slowed his pace as he walked past the printers and computers and found your head down in some textbook, blissfully unaware.

“Working hard or hardly working?” he asked.

And when you looked up and smiled, he could’ve sworn his heart swelled and burst like a goddamn balloon.

“Oh my gosh, hi!” you exclaimed, jumping up to give him a hug. “What the fuck are you doing here!”

It was only for a few seconds, but he couldn’t resist breathing in your intoxicating perfume and memorizing the feel of you. The curve of your back, the soft fabric of your sweatshirt scratching against his calloused fingertips.

And as you sat back down, he realized quickly why your mere touch was so alluring. It was a reminder that Saturday had been real and, on this grueling Tuesday, you still cared about his existence. You still noticed him.

“I was coming to look for something new to read,” he answered, trying to figure out what to do with his hands and failing. “What about you?”

Eddie couldn’t decipher your now raised eyebrow, watching as you lifted your pointer finger. “Sit down,” you nearly demanded, eyes flickering from him to the booth. His heart hammered in his chest as he complied, eyeing your finger following his movements.

It was despicable how easy it was for you to get him to do whatever you wanted. Even just fucking sitting down. But he loved it. Every. Fucking. Second.

“I was in the stacks looking at the archives,” you explained. “But everyone in my class took them already.” You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Such bitches.”

“How rude,” Eddie said, all teasing with an amused smile.

He could tell you liked it, biting your lip slightly before playing along. “I know, it’s offensive.”

There was something he noticed in your expression, placing your lip back between your teeth as you scanned him up and down. Eddie was unable to keep a smile off his face, overwhelmed by the attention you gave him. Like he was a meal, but something to be savored rather than merely devoured.

He couldn’t help it when he returned the sentiment, glancing down at your skirt that was riding further and further up your thighs. It wasn’t the time to think about you like that, spread wide for him as he got on all fours. Having you barking commands at him to do it properly, rewarding him with endless praise once you deemed it good enough.

Your thighs parted just a bit more, head tilting to the side as you gave him a smirk. As if you knew exactly where his thoughts were and wanted him to keep going. And, wow, were you two really just eye-fucking each other in the library?

“Want some coffee?” he asked, trying to distract himself. Practically flinching, pulling himself back from the table. “I was gonna head to Starbucks afterwards.”

The sexual tension broke at the question and he watched as you fiddled with your pen. But you didn’t flounder like he did. He wondered if you ever could.

“Yeah, I’d love to. I have to finish something up but—”

“Oh, I’ll go by myself,” he offered.

“You sure?” you asked, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, no biggie,” he assured you, standing up.

Expression turning a bit sheepish, you said, “I will warn you… My order is complicated.”

He shrugged. “Hit me.”

And the order wasn’t complicated, per se. Eddie just wanted to know how the hell had you come up with a “dirty iced chai with oat milk and two pumps of cinnamon dolce”. Regardless, Eddie tucked that into his Notes app for later. If there was a later.

After grabbing himself a large black coffee and the concoction you'd asked for, he made his way back over to you. Rounding the corner, he noticed the way you moved back and forth between a book and your laptop, sighing and mumbling something to yourself. But as if you could sense him, you turned and watched him approach, a smile appearing on your lips.

“Oh, a Venti, huh?” you teased, making grabbing motions at him anyways.

He shrugged, sitting back down. “You deserve it.”

“You know what? You’re right.” You took it from his hand, taking a long sip. “I hate Starbucks coffee,” you said, licking your lips. “It’s awful. But this is the best thing on the menu, so thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Eddie hoped you couldn’t see him blush. "I hate it, too. It's just the only thing we got."

“God, I know. Also, I can Venmo you or—"

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, waving you away.

“Okay,” you conceded, not bothering to argue further. Just took another sip and sat back. Glanced out the window before back at him. “Wanna go on that date today?”

“Today?” he asked, nearly gobsmacked.

Nervousness ran along his limbs, not fully prepared to be with you. Alone. Just the two of you. It’d taken him hours to go to bed after dropping you off the other night. Any time he thought he was done masturbating, it just came with another round. Like a goddamn creep.

“Why not?”

“Aren’t you doing research?” he asked, feeling his face grow hot.

And if you noticed, you didn’t say anything about it.

“Oh my god, I would rather die than look at this shit any longer. I’ve been here since eight.” You paused before throwing a hand over your face. “Unless you’re busy. Sorry I didn’t ask first.”

“No, no. I’m free,” he lied, deciding at that moment to skip his class. He’d catch up on Algebra with his tutor—it’s not like he paid attention anyways. That damn tutor was the only reason he understood a fraction of it. Pun absolutely intended.

And he swore you nearly jumped up, grabbing your shoes and shoving them on before packing up your backpack, the weight of it starting to look daunting. Book after book, plus your laptop and pencil case and…

Without thought, Eddie grabbed it for you, slinging it over his shoulder. Fuck, it was heavy. “Here, I got it.”

You stared up at him, clearly shocked. “Oh, you sure?”

But Eddie gave you a smile and gestured towards the window with his head. “Yeah, come on. I’ll drive.”

By all accounts, Eddie was actually…sweet. It was nearly sickening how sweet he could be, carrying your backpack for you and opening the car door (despite it being a stalker van). Asking what music you liked to listen to—everything, was the answer. And you didn’t just like every genre, you loved it— Fiddling with the air conditioning and telling you to change it if you get too hot or too cold. Asking if his music was too loud, asking how you were doing now, away from your books.

You were starting to find him ridiculously intriguing, unsure how to take his kindness. It wasn’t a bad thing by any means. You just…weren’t used to a man being so considerate of your feelings.

It wasn’t like you didn’t think you deserved it—that was obvious every time a man got a little too close for comfort and you had to humiliate them.

But there was just something that felt new about Eddie. When he’d approached you at the party, you sized him up like every other guy shooting their shot. But he caught your eye immediately when he stumbled over his words. And when a jolt seized your veins at that first touch on his arm, you knew you were hooked.

You’d gone to bed that night with a smile on your face, softly licking along your lips to savor the lingering taste of Eddie’s mouth. It was tinged with beer, something you used to hate. Something you now loved, thoughts echoing one word:

New.

Eddie helped you out of the car once he’d parked, even insisting that you let him get it for you. It made you feel quite warm in the face, surprised by his assertion. Made you feel like a lady, something you hadn’t ever felt at the hands of a man.

As you moved through the museum, you were quiet, whispering now and then about certain art styles and their importance during their corresponding time periods. And you were glad that Eddie wasn’t a douchebag about noise level inside a museum.

He never interrupted, never poked fun at your intelligence. He’d even asked more questions, all hushed and contained, some even you didn’t know the answer to. Pocketing them for later to ask your professors.

But Eddie rarely gave up any information about himself, leaving you to tap his foot with yours and ask him questions. Every time, his face got hot and he murmured responses with a shrug, as if he didn’t think it was anything special.

How was it not? He was still undecided, having dreams of working on video games and helping direct the narratives in new and innovative ways to engage with the player more. You didn’t know much about video games, but you still listened. Still gave him the attention he’d given you. It wasn’t even hard—he was so animated once he got into something he was passionate about. It was endearing, actually.

You ended up sitting down on one of the benches together, staring at an abstract painting by an artist you’d never heard of.

“Do you like abstract?” you asked him, whispering despite the empty room.

Eddie shrugged, eyes trained on the swirling colors. “I think so? I mean, it’s cool to look at. I just don’t really know what I’m looking for. Or what I’m looking at, for that matter.”

That brought a smile to your face. His statement wasn’t judgmental or dismissive. It was…pensive. Contemplative.

“I think of it like music,” you said. “The different colors and movements are like different instruments. They’re all separate but they come together to make something magical.”

For emphasis, you leaned in closer to him, your face and shoulder fully pressed against him. Raised your arm to point at the sharp flicks of red hurling towards the top right of the canvas. You could’ve sworn you heard Eddie suck in a breath, having to suppress a smirk at the effect you had over him.

“That’s like a trumpet, bright and loud. Furious in nature but soaring off the page.” Then you pointed toward the royal blue splatters, more round than some of the other scattered pigments. “And this is like, oh, I don’t know. I guess, a trombone. Low and sultry. Rounded. Keeping everything together.”

Eddie turned his head, your noses nearly touching. You couldn’t help the shiver running down your neck at the tickling sensation you got from his hair. A smile you hadn’t seen before enveloped his face as you made eye contact.

“So, you’re saying it’s like jazz.”

A breathy laugh left your lips, finding yourself intimidated by his pointed gaze. By the way you could study the rich brown in his eyes, all bright and energized despite his calm demeanor. The stubble rising from his pores, all scratchy and wicked.

“Well, uh,” you murmured, surprised by your inability to form words. “It doesn’t have to be, but, um, I guess this one made me think of jazz. The way it kinda…” your voice trailed off as he seemingly leaned in further, his scent like smoke fogging your senses. “It’s not so rigid. It’s improv. It’s, um…”

“Varied?” he offered, his smile growing. “Unique?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Eddie let out a hum. “I think I get it now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.”

For once, you had to look away, back at the painting to try and control your breathing. There were flashes of things you wanted to do, both tender and wildly too inappropriate for the setting. Things you wanted beyond physicality, beyond the limits you’d always set for yourself.

And as if he could hear the pounding of your heart, his fingertips touched yours. Slowly weaved his fingers through the spaces left open. Took a piece of your heart with him.

Eddie might not be exactly forward with his actions, but he knew what he wanted. All you could do was squeeze his hand and hope that one day you’d get to see him in full bloom.

“Why do you do that thing?” you asked.

Eddie glanced over at you, one hand on the steering wheel. The other fiddled with a hole in his pants, needing something to grasp onto. His heart rate just started to slow down, giving him a chance to breathe.

There was just something about you that drove him mad.

“What thing?”

“Act like you’re not interesting.”

Sheepishly, Eddie shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know. I guess it’s ‘cause you’re way more interesting than me.”

“Bullshit,” you said sternly, a scoff leaving your lips.

“What!” he exclaimed, looking over at you again. “It’s true.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “You highly underestimate yourself.”

Eddie snorted. “I’m a stereotype.”

“Bullshit,” you repeated, starting to sound genuinely frustrated. “Who the hell told you that?”

He didn’t know where to start.

Being a loser wasn’t a big deal for him in high school. Grew up with his father’s reputation preceding him. Got through it the best he could with some awesome friends along the way. Finally graduated high school and raised his GPA enough to come here. It was simple. In his mind, he was simple.

But spending the latter half of summer, the one he dared never to speak of, without his friends and then coming here without anyone else… Well, he struggled to find anyone willing to be his friend. He tried. Really, he did. But it never came to fruition.

And what was more embarrassing than joining a D&D club before being told he didn’t belong within the first hour? Him, the DM of Hawkins, hell, Indiana, being told he didn’t belong. That he didn’t play right. That he just didn’t fit.

He spent so much time alone. It was starting to make him miss Hawkins, the nostalgia starting to kick in. Hawkins, the place he loathed. The place he wanted nothing to do with.

He was a nineteen-year-old Freshman with no friends and an undecided future.

His silence must’ve lasted longer than he thought because you pointed at the nearly empty Walmart parking lot and asked, “Actually, would you pull in for a sec?”

“Yeah, of course,” he responded, heading towards the very back row, far from any remaining cars. Giving the two of you privacy just in case you started to yell at him for being a loser or something. He didn’t know. You were just so unpredictable.

But once he parked, you were unbuckling your seatbelt and grabbing his chin. Squished the bottom of his cheeks in one hand as you pulled his face closer to yours. He must’ve stopped breathing, hands slipping from the steering wheel.

“You better start listening to me, Eddie,” you breathed, all low and sensual, moving your lips to barely graze his bottom lip. “I really don’t like you talking about yourself like that.”

Eddie could feel sweat collecting beneath his bangs as you continued your torture, raking your fingernails down his throat before wrapping your hand around it. He gasped, earning a small smile out of you.

“I don’t waste my time with boring people, as conceited as that sounds,” you continued, the left corner of your mouth lifting. Eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips, eyelashes fluttering with each micromovement. “But I never claimed to be the nicest person, did I?” Eddie still wouldn’t speak. He didn’t know if he could without moaning. “You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve met. And the nicest, which is probably more than I deserve. You’ve seen the way I treat other men.”

“They deserved it,” he whispered, feeling his cock twitch when your grip tightened. “Every one of them.”

“Yeah, they did,” you replied, raising the pitch of your voice. Like you were taunting him. “But you’re different, aren’t you?”

“I-I am?”

“You’re sweet,” you breathed, giving slow kisses to his cheeks. Giggling when you noticed the blood rushing into them so rapidly. “And you’re a real nice guy, you know that?”

“I, uh, I try to be,” he stumbled as you moved your lips past his jaw and against his ear. Went limp at the feeling of you biting the lobe, fanning your breath over it.

“You do such an excellent job,” you whispered. “So nice and kind and funny. You really get me going, Eddie. I didn’t think I’d be so affected by you.”

When you pulled back to face him, you chuckled. He couldn’t blame you. His eyes must’ve been popping out of his head, mouth agape at your pretty words. What was even more fucked up was how genuine you sounded, like you weren’t just saying these things to say them. You meant it.

“I thought about you a lot this weekend,” you said breathily, removing your hand from his neck to start coiling his hair around your finger.

“Me?”

“You,” you said with a nod.

He licked his lips. “W-what about me?”

“About how interesting you are. And not to get too vulgar,” you said with a giggle, all teasing and devilish. “But I couldn’t help but think about taking your cock down my throat.” Another giggle as you tapped your fingers along his collarbone. “Thought about what it looks like, if it’s half as pretty as you.”

Eddie couldn’t stop the way his cock strained against his jeans, the neverending praise overwhelming him. “T-thank you,” he responded, unable to suppress the whine that he’d tried to contain when your other hand began palming him over his jeans.

“You, um,” he tried to continue, taking a deep breath through his nose to keep his composure. “I-if you want, you can. Anytime. Any time.”

“It’d be so easy like this, you know,” you nearly purred. “To ride you, to leave you a blubbering mess and thanking me for taking care of you. I think you’d really, really like that.”

“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he groaned, fingers now reaching out to white-knuckle the steering wheel.

“Am I wrong?”

A tiny scoff left his lips as you nearly massaged his cock, knowing that if you didn’t stop soon, he was going to burst. “You already know the answer to that.”

“I want to hear it, Eddie.” You nipped his neck, causing him to jump a little. But you wouldn’t stop, whispering filthy words as you continued to mark him. “I want to hear you tell me how good it would feel for me to suck you dry.” He continued to nod, each word sending him further into the deep end. “Before getting you hard again, just ‘cause I can, and getting on top so I can milk you with my pussy.” He moaned at your vulgarity. “Which is dripping, by the way.”

Without any warning, Eddie was cumming, an explosive rush that had him twitching and jerking. Panting and dry mouthed. You didn’t remove your hand, merely chuckling and rubbing him through his jeans until he was able to breathe normally again.

Before Eddie could get the chance to apologize for his behavior, you were pulling him in with an agonizingly slow kiss, your fingers damp from the cum seeping through his jeans.

You tugged at his lower lip with your teeth before letting out a hum. Gazed up into his puppy dog eyes and said, “Good boy.”

After a few moments of Eddie being able to think clearly again, you found your eyes wandering around his console before settling on a pack of cigarettes.

“You smoke?” you asked, plucking them from the cupholder and shaking the box in front of his face.

He nodded, seemingly quiet despite what transpired. “Want one?”

“Absolutely,” you responded, quick to take two out and hand one over. Watched him roll the windows down. Even went so far as to light both cigarettes for you like a gentleman.

You knew he was still coming down from that high. It wasn’t like you could judge when the wetness collecting between your thighs was probably staining the carseat. It took everything in you not to beg him to take you right then and there. But you were a lady (of sorts) and as a lady, you were content with saving yourself for another day.

Besides, it was nice to see him so calm now. Like a weight had been lifted, if only for a moment. It was still a moment.

“Post-nut clarity cigarette,” you joked, taking a slow drag and glancing out at the afternoon sun.

“Was that…not embarrassing?”

That was when you realized what was happening.

“Are you kidding me? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” you said truthfully.

“I’m sure it’s totally hot,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Ah, yes. You supposed it was embarrassing for a guy to have creamed his pants without so much as a kiss. But that didn’t bother you at all. You knew it would be different once you were alone, edging him until he was begging you for more. Nothing would make you happier.

You ignored him. “You know, if you want us to go any further, you’re gonna have to earn it,” you said plainly, checking over your nails to make sure the paint hadn’t chipped too bad.

“How?”

“Once you learn to be nice to yourself.” You shrugged before glancing back over at his wide-eyed expression. “I know there’s something more to you than what you think of yourself. I saw it at the party and I’m seeing it now. You just have to see that, Eddie. That’s really all there is to it.”

Eddie’s lips seemed to form a pout before he took a few hearty puffs, the smoke billowing around you. Looked around. Looked down at his lap. Looked back up at you. Mumbled, “So I can’t, like, go down on you right now?”

A laugh surged out of you so quickly that you started coughing. You waved him away when his concern sounded, ending up laughing harder before you could contain yourself.

“As much as I’d love to give you the privilege of eating me out right now, I think it’s best to wait until you’ve shown some improvement.”

“So there’s a chance?” he asked.

You leaned back in towards his face, opening his mouth with your thumb. Taking another drag, you put your lips to his and blew the smoke into his mouth. Felt him breathe it in before letting it out through his nose.

You smirked. “If you’re desperate for a piece of me, you could always lap up what I left behind on your car seat.”

He groaned, taking a deep breath while rolling his eyes. “God, you’re a fucking menace.”

“Honey, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

as per usual, thanks to @strangergraphics for letting me use her dividers and looking over my work hehehe

#Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson/reader #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson/you #Eddie x you #Eddie x reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie Munson smut

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ghost-proofbaby · 2 days

Text

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER EIGHT: LOML

AND I'LL STILL SEE IT, UNTIL I DIE - YOU'RE THE LOSS OF MY LIFE.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, consumption of alcohol, (overly poetic) smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically unprotected sex even after the idiots discussed protection, minors dni

☆ WC: 3.9K+

☆ A/N: extremely sorry for the shortest chapter in this series yet. also, out of all the songs referenced for the title of chapters, this one might be the most on the nose. i kid you not, i cannot explain how perfectly loml encapsulates reader/sugar's emotions during this chapter. if you'd like the extra hurt, 10/10 recommends listening as you read. :)

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

“Can I kiss you, Sugar?”

You’ve made your fair share of dumb decisions in your life. Plenty of moments have slipped right between your fingers due to hesitation that you’d later regret, you have a catalog of embarrassing encounters to serve you a lifetime. You’ve said yes when your answer should have been a resounding no, you’ve made promises you knew were impossible to keep, and you’ve always had an unexplainable habit of digging yourself into graves that will surely bury you alive.

This moment is no different.

The correct reaction is to tell him no, to push him away and end the night here. You should leave before either of you make any mistakes and ruin whatever fragile thing resides between the two of you any further. There’s a million other options you should be taking, but at the end of the day, you still nod your head.

Not even a second later, Eddie’s lips are on yours, and it’s hard to call it a mistake when it’s the first time you’ve felt like you could properly breathe in two years.

He tastes like bourbon, and mistakes, and regret, and a youthful type of love impossible to grasp onto. A vague memory you never get to hold, but always learn to miss. When his hands travel slowly to your hips, you’re only pressing closer, deepening the kiss with the desperation of someone starved. Someone stained.

You were an idiot to think it wouldn’t end this way. You were in his apartment, and you were drunk. You were brimming with bad decisions. It was always going to end up this way.

Your knees somehow end up digging into the sofa cushions on either side of his hips, your recollection of how you climbed into his lap nonexistent. Had it been his doing, his own needy hands guiding you here? Or had it been you? You, with an ache that rang throughout your entire body, soothed only by sharing each of his breaths with him when he finally pulls back from the kiss.

“Are you sure you want thi-”

“Don’t ruin it,” you beg, silencing him as you look into those deep autumn eyes, memorizing rivets of soft auburn that never really changed. An ever changing kaleidoscope, but there were simply parts of Eddie he’d never be able to hide from you,to change, “Not yet. Please.”

You don’t know if you’ll want it come morning. You can’t estimate just how deeply the regret will burrow once it’s all said and done; you’re not in the mood to think sensibly. No hypotheticals, no curiosity for the future.

You just want him. Right here, right now. Far beyond just sex, and far beyond casual touches. But it’s the only way you can have him, the only way he can have you, for now.

His fingers are more skilled these days. More deft and nimble as they race up and down your sides, quickly undoing the button of your jeans and easily sneaking beneath your shirt. Two years could be two seconds with the way he still knows you and your body, knowing exactly where to apply more pressure as he plucks on every string beneath your skin that makes you sing out for him. Hums, gasps, moans – they all sort of blend together at some point, don’t they?

“I’ve missed you,” you swear you hear him mumble against the skin of your neck when his mouth begins to wander, “I’ve missed this.”

You convince yourself he didn’t say it just to avoid ripping yourself apart any further.

Instead, you busy your mouth with kissing him harder, faster, more desperately. You’re all but burying yourself in him. Your hips grinding against his, your lips swallowed in his, your hands finding themselves tangled in his hair.

You’re drunk enough that you convince yourself that this is it – this is home.

It feels natural to let him run you down this way. It’s instinctual as he takes his shirt off and your hands roam over bare skin that whispers with the ridges of paths you’ve traced before. You know that scar on his right hip from when he got his appendix removed as a child, you know that lightened patch of skin on his left thumb from when he’d managed to burn himself with a lighter while cutting class one day with you. You know him – so much better than you’d let yourself believe these last few weeks.

“Do you have a condom?” you pant, and you both pretend like your words are choked up from gasping to recover the air you’d offered to the kiss, and not the emotions rearing their ugly heads.

He does. Of course he does. He’s a rockstar now – he has women throwing themselves at him constantly. Of course he’s prepared.

It happens somewhere between him pulling the condom out of his wallet, and managing to pull his own shirt off. At some point in which you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, hips grinding down on his in sloppy circles, he lets out a low and drawn out moan. All your movements stutter, nearly halting, as that sound rings out around you. You swear, it echoes off the walls of your own head and not the eerily empty apartment.

You break as you gasp out, “Fuck, Eddie.”

Another dumb decision for the books. All it takes is you sighing his name for him to flip the entire script. Suddenly, you’re no longer straddling his lap, no longer biting his lip and gripping onto the back of the sofa for balance.

Your back collides with the cushions below and he hovers over you, kissing with more intent and purpose this time. Each press of his lips is followed by the nipping of teeth, desperately trying to mark you up along your chest, completely oblivious to the way he’s already left his stain.

You’re convinced if he presses his lips just hard enough, if he bares his teeth just sharp enough, he’ll see right through you. Your skin will become all but cellophane and he’ll see all those blooming violets and deep maroons still left behind in the shape of his mouth. He’ll see the way another has never followed these paths, not after him.

All the failed rebounds, all the failed distractions. There’s never been another person capable of taking your mind off of Eddie Munson. No one’s kiss ever made you bleed the way he’s capable, no one’s touch could ever erase the mark of his.

The wine still makes your head swim as your chin tilts to the roof, giving him all the room possible to paint whatever picture he’s vying for on your skin. You let him leave his physical mark; you let him leave a physical reminder of something to regret.

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?” his voice is a murmur that vibrates against your sternum, words not quite slurring, “Do you know how many times I swore-”

You don’t know – and you never find out what exactly he had sworn time and time again as the trill ringing of a cell phone shatters the entire atmosphere.

One moment, Eddie’s lips are painting portraits along your chest and neck, the acceptance of making a mistake settling deep into your bones. And the next, he’s lifting up, looking wildly towards his kitchen, where you’re sure that it’s his phone buzzing erratically on the counter.

“I-” he looks wildly between you and the distant phone, pupils blown out and lips swollen, “Fuck, I-”

All the air leaves your lungs.

There will be no mistakes tonight.

“Go answer it,” you whisper, deflating as you accept the interruption. The moment’s over, fading in between the lipstick marks on your wine glass and the glow of the lamps scattered throughout his living room, “It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. It’s written plainly across his face that this is the furthest thing from fine at this moment. But duty calls; his phone is ringing, your mind is buzzing, and the moment is simply gone.

It has to be fine. You have to be fine with it.

“I’ll be right back,” he swears as he lifts himself up off the couch, but you know he won’t be.

Your shirt is already back by the time he’s reached the counter, laptop already tucked safely back into your bag as he answers the call.

“Hello?” he asks, eyes flitting over to you as he watches you gather your things, picking up the wine glass that had been yours the entire night in order to carry it over to the sink he leans against the counter next to. A bit of chatter comes from over the line, and Eddie’s entire face twists, “Am I busy? Yeah, yeah – as a matter of fact, I am.”

Just as you sit the glass into the sink, you bring a hand to his bicep, letting it rest there selfishly. Feeling his bare skin one final time, drinking in the heat he radiates through your palm, giving yourself one last chance to memorize it.

You’re not busy, you mouth to him with a sad smile.

He’s not. Because there will be no mistakes tonight.

You go to pull your hand away, prepared to somehow call an Uber or taxi, but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist just as your skin slides from his. It’s not forceful, but simply firm. Clinging with a desperation you can’t recognize.

Stay, he mouths back, the person over the line clearly continuing to speak without Eddie paying them any mind.

You almost do. You falter and consider dropping your bag then and there. You nearly stay, wait out the phone call, sit pretty and patient until he returns to you just as he had promised.

But he had left you with a promise of later once before, and he hadn’t kept his promise then.

“Oh,” you whispered, disappointment gripping your lungs, “Oh, that’s fine! Go, they need you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. You missed hearing that in person, that soft laughter in the shell of your ear over inside jokes and one too many glasses of wine. “Rockstar duties and all. We’ll talk more later?”

Later had never found its way back to the two of you all those years ago – why would it now?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds,” you whisper, soft enough to guarantee whoever was on the other side of the phone call wouldn’t hear you. The fall of his face is almost enough to make you take back the words and swallow them back down.

“Wait-” he’s not whispering, almost as though he’s forgotten about the call entirely. You can hear the silence over the line, probably in confusion, as you walk away, “Wait- No- I-”

You motion to the phone still pressed to his ear and cheek, trying to remind him that someone else can hear.

He removes it and ends the call before you can protest.

“Eddie-” you start to scold, but he refuses to hear any of it.

“No, no,” he sounds as though he might be begging. And you can’t tell if he’s begging you to not reprimand him, or if he’s begging you to not leave, “I don’t care. It was just Matt, he can wait till morning.”

It doesn’t answer the question of what he wanted from you.

“It’s getting late, anyways,” you’re still trying to detect your escape route, the longer you spend in the aftermath making your chest tighten more and more.

You can’t do this.

You can’t stand in this room with him and pretend that it’s all okay. You can’t act as though the wine’s effects are slipping away from you and you can’t brush off the feeling of his lips across your chest. You have no patience left to act as though your lungs aren’t shriveling up in your chest, unable to get enough air when he’s too close all while being all too far away.

It would have been a mistake, and you’re both better for the interruption.

Eddie shakes his head, letting out a dry laugh, “We aren’t doing this again, Sugar. We aren’t going to just pretend that didn’t happen-”

“Why not?” you challenge him, “This… it’s better this way, Eddie. If we kept it up, we both would have regretted it, and it’d just be another mistake-”

“Who’s we?” he cuts you off.

We. You, me, both of us. We’d both regret it, wouldn’t we?

But you still didn’t regret kissing him. You still didn’t regret sitting in his lap and drinking him in, you still wouldn’t take back whatever moment was shared prior to the phone’s interruption.

All your regrets are spoken in future tense. All the mistakes are somewhere ahead of you, your mind running to things that haven’t happened yet.

How do you know if you’d regret it? How do you know if he’d regret it?

Your hold on your bag begins to loosen, “I- Both of us. We’d both regret it.”

“I wouldn’t regret it. I don’t think I could ever regret you.”

This is the part you walk away. You sling your bag onto your shoulder, you tell him to have a goodnight, and you leave. You’ll see him tomorrow, and you’ll pretend this conversation never happened.

Except you don’t.

Your bag falls to the ground, a muted crash that probably pisses off his downstairs neighbors. The toes of your shoes knock into the worn bag, kicking it to the side with more gentleness than you should be capable of right now. When he reaches out a hand to hold you, you take it.

You let him get his hot palms back on your body. You let his lips find their way back to yours.

You finally just let the mistake happen and take the chance on finding out if the regret is nothing more than shadows in the closet, make-believe once you turn the light back on.

The couch isn’t the destination this time. You’re almost sad that you don’t get to admire any of his decor as he drags you down the hallway, but you also doubt there’s even a sliver of the ghost of the man holding onto you in any of it. He’s not on the walls, he’s not in the pictures; he’s right in front of you, kissing you heavily and desperately, letting his feet stumble right over yours as he finally reaches blindly for the knob of the door behind you. He’s in the rings pressing into the skin of your hips and he’s in the wavering cologne that bursts from his sheets as he carefully drops you back on a bed far too large for one man.

He’s in the shadow hovering over you, he’s in the slide of his leg as he spreads your thighs to find home between them. He may not haunt this apartment, but he haunts you. Your body, your mind, your senses.

Always have, always will.

Alcohol isn’t clouding the moment anymore as each kiss is gentler, retracing the bruises already forming across your collar bones. He’s taking his time, enjoying himself, no longer rushing through the process of getting to know you again. The loss of your shirt and the unbuttoning of your jeans is done with shaking hands this time. Less sure, but far more determined.

Your own hands are steady, though, as you undress him. You’re sure. This is your mistake to make, your mistake to regret. And maybe he had a point – maybe it is impossible for either of you to regret each other. For all the tears shed and all the nights spent cursing his name, it’s never once crossed your tongue that you wanted to erase him. You think if someone were to try and take him, take all that you two had shared together from you, that they’d be met with white knuckles and deathly screams. A rancid animal foaming at the mouth, refusing to let go of the one thing it had ever managed to sink its claws into.

You’d forgotten just how well you know him.

It was beyond superficial scars and childhood stories. You still remember the exact pulse point that makes him moan out with just a brush of your mouth against it. You can still find that spot above his hips that spasm when your hands grip them, encouraging him to grind down onto you. You know his body, you know his past, you know his mind.

Words are no longer necessary as it finally happens.

Prayers of each other’s name, ignorance in the way this entire moment was becoming too gentle for two fools rekindling. A practiced dance you once only ever dreamt of swaying to with him.

You would have given him everything. You did give him everything. Your youth, your future, your aspirations, your daydreams of a glittering gem on your sacred finger and a list of baby names the two of you had argued over endlessly. All those things still belong to him, even now. Even as this new version of him hovers over you, lips trailing with purpose over your abdomen, making his way down to your core.

You can’t tell if he’s a stranger when he places a hot kiss over the cotton of your underwear. You can’t tell if you ever spent two years away from him as his hands hold down your hips when they buck in response.

“Eddie,” you beg, fingers lacing into his curls just as they had earlier, gripping onto him for dear life. You’re looking down at him between your thighs, refusing to blink on the off chance that he’ll simply vanish when you do, “Please.”

“Please what, Sugar?”

“Touch me,” you gasp out as his fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, colossus course against soft skin, “Kiss me, fuck me- I just-”

No further explanation is needed. Your wish is his command.

Your panties are tossed to the hardwood floor at the edge of the bed as if they always belonged there. His mouth ravishes you as if this was just a nightly routine between the two of you. As if he didn’t have to second think what pace you might prefer, or when to add the first finger. Or the second. He plays you beautifully, crooking his fingers and nipping at sensitive skins and nerves alike, listening to the way you only seem to remember his name. Like you don’t remember the sound of a dial tone instead of declarations of adoration, like you don’t remember the excuses for him denying you all his attention.

You wish you could just stay in this moment forever. Him, buried between your thighs. All hurt and all stains forgotten when he builds you up to the edge, when he murmurs against your clit about how pretty you look for him right now.

Cheap wine soaking Halloween costumes. Hazy rooms, smokey with youthful desires and incense. Dancing in an apartment filled with boxes not yet unpacked. Whispers of something being real. Late night trips to the gas station and all the pride in your eyes as you heard his song played on public radio for the first time. The terrible waiting, the messy kisses of more teeth than lips. A simple necklace adorned with a simple ring, burning with more promises than either can comprehend, still gathering dust at the bottom of your jewelry box to this day.

Just in case. Just in case he ever came back; just in case you ever returned.

By the time he’s climbing back up your body, you have one foot in the past, cleaving yourself in two as you cling to him like water.

“Look at you,” he whispers when his face is back above yours, lips still slick with you, “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You swear, for just a moment, his eyes are mirrors. And you can see that dazed look you wear, the face of a woman still trapped by her past. The face of someone who can’t let the dead stay buried. Someone you wouldn’t describe as beautiful, but Eddie would.

You should have left. You should be regretting this. You only pull him closer.

His boxers bunch at his ankles, your fingernails dig into his back. When you feel him press against you, the tip of his dick just barely tapping against your clit, your entire body tenses. This was it. This was the mistake you had taken responsibility for, this was the choice you’d decided was worth damnation. A simple slip up, a quick fall backwards, and you’ll be right back where you started two years ago.

“You still want this?” he sighs into your ear, clearly feeling the way you’d froze up.

Your breath catches for just a second. More memories, more images that cut straight through you. Every careless afternoon, every serene morning. Every haunted night.

“Yeah,” your entire body relaxes, muscle by muscle, “Yeah, I still want this.”

You mean more than just the sex.

The press of your heels into his lower back is all the encouragement he needs to finally push into you. The stretch burns, but it’s welcome all the same. Just an aftereffect of years of emptiness, of failing to ever find something that could make you feel as whole as he does.

The moan he lets out as he’s wrapped in your warmth sends shivers down your spine. You swear, laced in it, there lies a gasp of relief. A sigh of coming home after a long tour, the huff of an exhale just before he crosses the threshold of a front door and has you in his arms again.

You don’t know when the tears started.

But between his thrusts, between all his wanton groans and your own quivers of excitement, your cheeks turn wet.

“Then I say let it burn.”

You can’t tell if it’s sweat or his own tears seeping into your skin as your bodies press together harder, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

“I love you so goddamn much, it hurts. I can’t believe this is real.”

You find your hands tugging on the roots of his curls even harder as you try to tether yourself back to him, but it’s no use.

“When I get back, all I care about is you.”

It all comes crashing down on both of you as his face is buried in the crook of your neck and your thighs squeeze around his hips – all the love that was there, all the love that was lost. All the love that still remains.

“Something for you to always have as a reminder that I’ll come back to you. You’re it for me, sweetheart.”

He’d always warned you this would happen. That one day he’d come back to you. That he’d only ever come back for you.

It doesn’t matter how deep of scratches you leave across his back, or how many hickies he paints your skin with. There will never be enough bloodshed between the two of you to wash away the truth. It’s not a mistake, it’s not something to regret. You wish it was; you wish it were so simple. No, this moment was one thing and one thing only – inevitable.

They always did say that your life would flash before your eyes right before you die.

And flash it does – a lifetime of love that was had and love that will never come back to you – as Eddie brings you both to your graves from the most cursed of little deaths.

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#ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #maroon #this is not edited please don't come for me PLEASE #that phone call in the middle of it all is important btw <3 #truth be told i think this had also been my least favorite chapter to write #it gave me fucking hell

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deathbecomesthem · 21 hours

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Kiss the Cook 4 | 2.3K

linecook!Eddie Munson x server!reader

Summary: It's just you and Eddie working on a lazy Wednesday morning. Until an unexpected guest throws a wrench in the gears.

A/N: This might seem a little out of place in this current series, but it's an older piece I wrote many moons ago. Based on a mostly true Thanatos server experience.

As usual, you leave the cream colored coffee mug at the prep station next to the fruit cup that Eddie’s prepared for you. His back is still turned, he’s throwing down a case of bacon to fry off before opening. This time of the day, his clothes are clean and fresh and his hair is still damp from his morning shower. His hair is pulled up in a bun that sits a little higher than normal, and it gives you a good view of the fine hairs at the back of his neck. Little soft curls that cling to his skin just above the place where his shoulders work underneath his crisp white shirt.

The tattoo there has always been something that you’ve noticed, but you’ve never gotten the chance to really see it until now. It’s a sword, the hilt of which can barely be seen through the curls that rest at the nape of his long neck. The blade looks sharp enough to cut, and it reaches straight down his spine. You wonder about it, and hope there’s a day when you’ll get to see the tip of that blade, wherever it may be.

You’re thinking about reaching out to touch his neck. - let your fingertips feel the skin and hair - when he turns away from the grill and the meat that’s already begun to spit. He seems totally unaware of your gaze, even now with his profile in full view. You could already be sitting on the curb out back puffing through your pre-opening cigarette, but this is a rare thing getting to study him so intensely in a quiet moment.

“You gonna stand there and stare all morning, or do you wanna go smoke before this place turns into a zoo?” You can feel heat in your face immediately, and hope he doesn’t turn to look at how you’re reacting to his teasing. You were caught, but also, he was letting you look. Your stomach does a flip at the thought of it, and you wonder how long he’s known that you’ve been taking all of the sly glances you can.

“I was just waiting for you,” you spin on your heels and head towards the back door before Eddie can look at you, “whenever you’re done screwing around with your meat, I’ll be out here.” Eddie’s low giggle follows you through the back door. The 90 seconds between when you sit on the concrete and when Eddie opens the back door to join you is enough time to consider that he was flirting with you. Openly. That’s new. You think it’s new, anyway. Maybe you’ve just been missing it.

It’s with a heavy sigh that Eddie sits down next to you on the low to the ground curb, his long legs extended so his knees don’t sit up high under his chin. He’s long, like a stretched out cat dressed in his still clean black denim and cotton shirt. He’s close enough for you to smell the soap that still clings to his skin from his morning shower, and the deodorant he must have put on directly after.

“So. I’ve been thinking about something.” Eddie’s fumbling hands are reaching around in his apron pocket while a Camel dangles from his lips. You extend your green Bic, flame lit, to his cigarette. Eddie smiles around the paper filter, his eyes flick from you to the end of his cigarette where the cherry burns to life. “Thank you,” he whispers on an exhale, his full focus back to you.

“What have you been thinking about Eddie?” You push your shoulder against his. As always, it’s a way to connect your bodies in a mundane and friendly way. You think it might be your imagination, but you could swear you can feel his body heat through his and your own layer of clothing. He’s gotten shy now, eyes focused on the asphalt parking lot in front of him. His long fingers are twirling the lit cigarette around while you wait for his answer.

“Well,” the word comes out in a higher pitch than normal, he clears his throat, “well, I was thinking maybe we could go out sometimes. Just you and me, like uh -” he brings his eyes back to yours, gauging your reaction, “- I’m sorry, I’m shit at this. It’s ok if you say no, I don’t want it to be weird at work or anything.”

“I don’t know how anything could be weird when you haven’t actually said anything outside of wanting to go out. Sure, Ed, we can go out. We’re friends aren’t we?” You can’t hold back the snicker that laces your words. Eddie’s so cute, his cheeks are pink and his eyes are pleading. He looks like a boy instead of the 26 year old man that he is, and he’s begging you for mercy.

“You’re torturing me on purpose, and it’s not nice.” No, it’s not nice, but it’s having its intended effect. Eddie wants to take you on a date, and you can’t care that the words are too hard for him to say when his face is so close to your own. When his lips, oh he can definitely see that you’re looking at them, are so pretty. He’s close enough that you can see the stubble across his top lip. Fresh shave this morning, but the light of the sunrise is starting to make the tiny hairs sparkle.

“I’m sorry, Ed,” both of your cigarettes are burned to the filter, and you know it’s at least a couple of minutes past opening time. You can’t find it in yourself to care. You have a wild thought about asking him to flick work with you. To go for a long walk and hold hands. Your thoughts get wilder when you notice his eyes flick down to your mouth as if in question. Unconsciously doing the same thing your own eyes have been doing to Eddie’s lips. Are we going to kiss out here on this curb while the sun is still hiding behind the trees?

Your thought is answered and the moment is broken. The sound of a familiar voice mumbling a curse accompanied by a fist loudly knocking against glass. A quick glance at your watch tells you it’s 3 minutes past opening, and Jimmy is right on time as always. The retiree that sits at the corner of the counter for the first hour of the diner’s business, and has been doing so since the week of the grand opening 15 years ago, is ready for his morning’s coffee.

“Sorry, Jimmy, I’ll be up front in 30 seconds!” You shout around the corner of the building from your spot on the curb, neck craned in the direction of Jimmy’s grumbling before slapping your knees and standing up. You look down at Eddie and find that his gaze has returned to the tree line beyond the parking lot. He lets out a chuckle and pulls out another cigarette while you pat the top of his head in goodbye. By the time you get Jimmy's coffee and cruller, Eddie will be inside to fry up his eggs. You wonder, as you step back in through the metal door, whether the words between you and he will mean anything, or will be forgotten as the day moves forward.

–

You’re perched on a barstool at the counter, Jimmy is the only company you have when it happens. Eddie’s smoke break took longer than was reasonable, and you stepped out of your assigned role to make two sloppily fried over medium eggs for the old guy. You didn’t mind, you assumed this was just one of those mornings. Sometimes, Eddie is pensive. You only wished there was a way to relieve him of his duties for the day so he could get a real break.

The sound of the back door opening draws your attention towards the kitchen while your hands mindlessly pull out a knife, fork, and spoon to roll into the paper napkin in front of you. Immediately you realize something is wrong, because the familiar sounds of Eddie stomping are replaced with a choked off scream and - possibly the sound of a scuffle of some kind.

“What the hell -” before Jimmy can’t get out his thought, he too recognized that something was wrong in the small hallway that holds the back door and bathrooms, Eddie’s high pitched yelling freezes you in your spot. A split second later, your fear has you on your feet and sprinting towards the cacophony.

“Motherfucking son of a bitch!” Eddie hollers before throwing open the swinging kitchen door, narrowly missing your face. A small red blur passes in front of you before you catch sight of Eddie. He is standing in front of the men’s room door with his shirt pulled half over his head and his apron tangled in his arms. Your brain cannot make sense of the sounds and sights you’ve just experienced, and then you hear the voice of another man shouting at the opposite end of the restaurant.

“Christ Almighty!” Jimmy sounds less frantic than Eddie did a moment ago, but no less surprised. Your feet are moving again, letting the swinging door close on the disheveled line cook. Your mind is working to make sense of things when you round the corner to enter the dining room and find your foot skidding against something slick. A quick look down tells you it’s - what the fuck - bird shit.

There’s a bird loose in the restaurant. A bird. And the two men here are screaming messes.

You head back to the dining room and grab a broom before you make your way into the dining room to save an old man from the bird menace. The crashing of silverware tells you that things are not chill, and you’re ready for it. You think you’re ready for it until a flash of red feathers swoops down at your head as you remember to step over the spot of shit left on the linoleum.

“What the fuck.” Your attempt to bat the bird away from your head with the broom, it’s a cardinal - you can see it clearly now, results in you breaking a bulb in one of the hanging lamps that are throughout the dining room. Glass rains down on your shoulders, and you have at least enough sense to shake it off rather than use your fingers to brush at it. “Can birds have rabies?”

“No!” Jimmy answers your rhetorical question from the opposite end of the dining room. You see that his coffee mug and plate of eggs are spilled on the floor next to his abandoned barstool, “but this one is fucking possessed! I flew right at my head like it was out for blood!”

–

The battle of the bird vs. Eddie Munson lasted 2 hours. Casualties included one lightbulb, a glass coffee urn, a set of salt and pepper shakers, a ceramic coffee mug, a tray of donuts (bird shit), and the ceramic plate that held Jimmy’s poorly made over medium eggs. You and Eddie tried and failed to catch the terrified creature dozens of times before opening both the front and back doors and returning to the spot at the curb where Eddie almost managed to ask you out on a date before the chaos began. It took less an 5 minutes for Mr. Cardinal to find the exit, swooping down at Eddie’s head as a final “fuck you”.

“What did I do to deserve that bird’s rage?” Eddie’s hair is a mess, and you can’t help but wonder if he had managed to do something that has resulted in this avian vendetta. “I say we clean up and call this day a loss. Charlie can kiss my ass if he has a problem with it.”

“Charlie won’t care. We already lost breakfast to a bird.” Your words came out with a giggle. Eddie caught the itch of laughter. The post bird drama hysterics had you both hunched over in gasping laughter until the thought of your lost wages made your smile fade. “I’m gonna make Charlie pay me kitchen wages for today.”

Eddie hummed in agreement with the sentiment. You certainly deserve it, especially considering what it will take to get the bird shit out of your non-slip footwear’s sole. When you go to stand, finally deciding it was time to clean and get as far away from the war zone as possible, you’re stopped by a soft grasp of Eddie’s calloused hand on your forearm. You look at him and find his gaze firmly on yours, and not looking out past the tree line.

“How about we clean up and go out to lunch somewhere? My treat?” A battle well fought has given Eddie the nerve to ask the question he’s been wanting to ask for months. Even now, when he knows your answer, butterflies’ wings beat in his chest as the silence after his question is asked fills the air.

“Ok. But only if we can get some ice cream after.”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #linecook!eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson series #eddie munson au #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagines

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